Miracle for a New Age
30th of December 2006 A.D.
Tiffany MacNeil, in memory Lasciel Angel of the True Host, in form Incarnate of Flesh and Longing, in aspiration not quite sure, had a problem... well she had a lot of problems: a hateful mother, an indifferent Maker and a wizard companion whom she occasionally still had the urge to grab by the collar and shake until he finally saw what was in front of his nose. But—she shook up the French braid to make sure it would hold together— to even begin to solve any of them she needed power. So, floral dress check, enough cheap 'crystal' charms to set up a a street booth in New Delhi, double check, 'all natural fiber sustainable shoes' that were probably made in a sweatshop—
deep sigh— also check.
In the first heady days after her incarnation Tiffany had thought of targeting a church, the sort that handled pans and snakes with equal fervor, promised miracles even as they divested the desperate of their savings. show them what
real miracles looked like, but as entertaining as that might have been to flex against, good sense prevailed. To strike at the truly hollow, the utterly heartless she'd have to go for the big boys and if some televangelist with five Rolex watches, four luxury cars, three mansions, two mistresses and a private jet got shown up in front of his congregation he would go on TV to bleat about it, it would get her noticed when she was already
on notice. On the other hand if she went small time, someone just starting to walk the wide and winding two faced road of the false preacher it might get her noticed with unfriendly eyes Up Above. She shivered and not from the cold wind blowing in the dusty curtains.
Harry should really get some more color in here, maybe red and black trim.
The demon-invested phone rang once on the table, then it started to play, automatically. "Hi, Tiffany, are you feeling OK today?" The voice at the other end was soft and fuzzy, like a half unraveled blanket for the soul.
"Yeah Chelsy, I have a good feeling about this. It think you are right about the stars leading the way," Tiffany answered, making herself sound younger and more vulnerable. It had not been hard at all to spin a sob story about how she was always 'different' growing up, able to feel people's pain emotionally and physically as well as fix it. Much like a bar of granola left in the back of the pantry for the last forty years New Age Spiritualism had never really gone away, maybe a bit crumbly around the edges, a little dry and stale on the tongue, but what it lacked in terms of fervor, most of the times at least, it made up for in syncretism.
In Chelsy's case that was the belief that some people had achieved 'kensho' and could therefore overcome 'maia', the illusion of the world, never mind that she was mixing and matching words from various distinct traditions to produce a system of belief ultimately more akin to the Cathari or other medieval gnostics than anything you would find in East or Southeast Asia. What mattered was that she was a chiropractor with a flourishing practice, a modest following online and at least one patient with stage four cancer.
***
The apartment, unlike other places of its sort made no attempt to feel like a medical practice. It smelled pleasantly of lavender and mint, most open surfaces covered in green, broad leaves and carefully cultivated vines.
The ninth floor Hanging Gardens of Chicago, Tiffany thought with more whimsy than scorn. There were worse places to spend one's time if it was about to be cut short. No sooner had the thought passed though her mind that she saw the boy, wan and wide-eyed the sweater hanging off him awkwardly, the sheer physicality of death struck her. He had a few months left in him. The woman sitting next to him who introduced herself as Mrs Ford, knew it as well as Tiffany did, she knew her son would not see another Christmas. Part of her was already mourning him, clear as daylight behind those dark brown eyes.
"Miss Chelsy said you could do something about the pain," the boy's voice was flat with disbelief, resignation. Children were a lot better at picking up cues around them than most of their elders gave them credit for.
The woman herself nodded encouragingly. Chelsy had a very encouraging sort of face, round and warm, the lines softening it further until she looked like what an animator might draw as the grandmother in Red Riding Hood. That probably had as much of a part in her success as skill in her chosen profession.
"I'll try, I've done it before, but it's been a while..." Not technically untrue depending on one's definition of 'I' and technically true was the talk of auras and resonances and healing energies so that when she laid her hands on the boy's shoulders and...
Recalled onto Flesh its True and hale self
No spell was cast, no words of power spoken, the universe answered the hand of one who had been among its stewards, a memory made real by faith, her own in purpose enduring.
Eyes snapped suddenly, an end to pain, by instinct known, an end to suffering. "W..what?" the child asked.
"I'm going to need you to send me good vibrations so I can help other people," the once-demon whispered. With the small nod that followed there was a sound-that-was-no sound for her alone to hear: a bell sublime, a cosmic wheel clicking, faith flowing like clear water, like the light of the sun after a long, hard winter.
"I feel better, it doesn't hurt Mom..." the boy started, but Tiffany reached out and without sound spoke:
"Careful, she didn't feel it, she's not going to believe just like that, you are going to have some blood tests done."
The child made a face, he didn't like needles, but even that couldn't stop the smile for long. Tiffany gave a bit more advice, mostly to do with diet and sleep schedules, things any doctor would have said, just to round off the 'consultation'. The doctors would just write this off as the cancer entering remission, practically unheard of in his situation, but not utterly beyond the pale. She had taken care not to make this look too much like a miracle to the inquisitive mortal eye, just another statistical anomaly. Anonymity would be his shield against any dark things who might come knocking, that and the fact that curses flow very poorly uphill.
Chelsy was effusive of her wisdom and 'enlightenment', mere admiration paling before the rush of faith, but useful just the same. A good start.
OOC: A look at how Tiffany is planning to get her Faith regen while flying under the radar.
