Lorne (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
nomorekaraoke) wrote2009-01-22 11:03 pm
nomorekaraoke) wrote2009-01-22 11:03 pm
Entry tags:
Unstitching Time and Space
When human children grow up, they learn a few basic truths from their loved ones. Don't talk to strangers - a notion they seem to harbor deep in their darkest recesses even as very small children. Don't go out after dark. Always be good, or your bad deeds will come back to haunt you.
When Lord Vayan was a very young cub, he learned another set of basic truths. Praise Ahm. Family and home before yourself. Trust in the Will and the Word.
On this night of nights, almost exactly when the clock strikes twelve, all the lights go out in Central Park. The air grows heavy over the turtle pond, and within seconds it is covered in a thick layer of mist. Layer upon layer, the wisps of gray dance in the air as if to an otherworldly tune, and through it comes a small procession. At the very front, two flag bearers lead the way, their yellow eyes gleaming in the dark. They need no light to guide them on this night, their master has laid out their path in plain speech on many nights prior. He moves in their midst, tallest of them all, his eyes burning brightest, for he sees all things that they cannot. He knows the Word, and his Will is theirs to honor.
They move from pond to earth, the mist lingering, clinging to their bare feet and paws as they move through the park - beyond the castle - to their intended destination.
With poise and determination, they move as one to the statue of the King known as Jagiello.
"A King's honor, for the path set in motion," they murmur as one; their Master says nothing. Their chant is his boon. "For the door to open. For the Reunion.
"Ahm willing!" The flag bearers exclaim into the darkness, and their equals respond.
"Ahm's will be done!"
When Lord Vayan was a very young cub, he learned another set of basic truths. Praise Ahm. Family and home before yourself. Trust in the Will and the Word.
On this night of nights, almost exactly when the clock strikes twelve, all the lights go out in Central Park. The air grows heavy over the turtle pond, and within seconds it is covered in a thick layer of mist. Layer upon layer, the wisps of gray dance in the air as if to an otherworldly tune, and through it comes a small procession. At the very front, two flag bearers lead the way, their yellow eyes gleaming in the dark. They need no light to guide them on this night, their master has laid out their path in plain speech on many nights prior. He moves in their midst, tallest of them all, his eyes burning brightest, for he sees all things that they cannot. He knows the Word, and his Will is theirs to honor.
They move from pond to earth, the mist lingering, clinging to their bare feet and paws as they move through the park - beyond the castle - to their intended destination.
With poise and determination, they move as one to the statue of the King known as Jagiello.
"A King's honor, for the path set in motion," they murmur as one; their Master says nothing. Their chant is his boon. "For the door to open. For the Reunion.
"Ahm willing!" The flag bearers exclaim into the darkness, and their equals respond.
"Ahm's will be done!"
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"My enemies would spare no expenses to have my head," he muses. "I don't blame them. I shall spare none to keep it."
Letting go, he rises to his full height. The kit gloves are now officially off.
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For a moment Andrew's having trouble framing the question properly, and it's arguably an insolent question even without the added insult of speaking carelessly.
"The Champion would know more, if it pleases you, of the story that has led us to this night. Of those who seek your death, and their reasons." At the demon lord's narrow glance, he adds hastily "It need not, of course, be told this moment."
Or, um, at all, he has to stop himself from adding. Backing down might feel like the prudent thing to do, but showing throat to a Rrhayaowr demon is a bad idea.
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"And my business is not yours. Not quite yet." Which naturally implies that it might be in a future not too far away. Just not tonight. "You will of course avail yourselves to me should the need arise in future."
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"The Champion serves the Powers that Be," Andrew says evenly. "Should you have the need for his aid in future, it is at their will that he should come."
Half a beat.
"Ahm willing."
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His eyes wander from one after the other, meeting their looks. Only once this is done, does he incline his head to acknowledge the little firefly.
"Ahm willing."
"Ahm willing!"
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Instead he turns to Angel himself, and lowers his voice. "Okay, um. We want to stick around and see what else we can find out, or head back to HQ?" The significant glance he adds to that is, he hopes, enough to convey ...and see what else we can find out there?
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But he's come to rely on Andrew and Jonathan almost as much as he ever relied on Wesley in LA, and for the same basic practical reason: they tend to know what they're talking about.
"We'll go back," he says, quietly (and aware that the furry ears under those manes can probably hear him anyway). "Make our goodbyes, would you?"
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Once they're done, he speaks up. "You have my gratitude. All of you."
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As they emerge onto Fifth Avenue next to the Metropolitan Museum of Art, Angel says flatly "Okay. What are we looking for."
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Angel frowns fiercely at nothing in particular.
"And maybe why the Powers that Be wanted us to save him."