Catching Breath
Elsewhere, Time Indeterminate
"Up!" the word bursts from your lips almost without meaning to, for once not the least curious to linger.
What have I done? The question bounces around your brain like a stone bouncing down a spiral stair and nothing Usum says can take away the mounting dread. Deathknights, able to parry a Sword of the Cross with their bare hands, disarm a knight by sheer skill, master essence and bestride the elements. All in service to that thing...
So the world rushes past, at the speed of the wind, barely able to constrain yourself not to run faster than the others can keep up with, trying to escape not just the place but the deed.
Stop. I'm not a kid running out of the house so I don't have to show a bad report card. Breath ragged you focus on the rough texture of the stone under your hand, some kind of basalt maybe, if rock classifications mean anything down here. The path up to the angel's tomb is still long fathoms and hours away, if either could be said to be in this place, but the ocean below is just as distant, a stop upon the steps, a place liminal.
The sound of something small and light being set down draws your eye, Lydia putting down Aakebushu. You stare.
"What? He has small legs and you were going fast."
"I really should be keeping a scoreboard for times like this," Tiffany mutters.
"How can you... Why are you so calm about right now?" Some small part of you hopes the once-Fallen has some secret insight about what you just did, a way to return the shards of darkness to their secret tomb.
"Well... do you want me to sugarcoat this? Normally I wouldn't ask, just do it, but you're good enough to notice."
That is a weird compliment to be getting, admittedly, but it clearly is a compliment so you take it as such. "Give it to me straight."
"Hand a human a cosmic prybar and set them loose on the foundations of existence
eventually something important is going to come loose, to my mind it was only a matter of what and when. I guessed that something might happen, though I could hardly speak up given what I am and how I came to be. All that said you
must to blame someone feel free to make it the...
messenger with whom you spoke." Even as she flips her hair with offhanded elegance as if she wasn't just running up steps for the last while, she avoids Uriel's name.
"No, I have free will and... so do will they, the black sun children." The realization is new but solid as the stone beneath your feet. Once are they Chosen that they may evermore Choose. Exaltations were made for men to use as they see fit.
"Well there you go, Heaven can't be that upset with you can they?"
"Should
you be giving advice on this?" Lydia asks, almost in spite of herself. No sooner had she finished the question that she worried she had overstepped, but Tiffany waves her off.
"I have been giving advice for millennia, young one. True all the people bar one I gave it to came to bad ends, but it's not because I was ever bad at it, it's because I was malicious."
"Malicious... bad... aren't those the same thing?" Lamentations of the Void asks, looking between you with honest befuddlement.
"One is doing harm by accident, the other with intent," Tiffany says, frowns. "How much power do you have over the... what do you call them? Buds? Hyphae? Drones?"
If one had expected some kind deflection fit for a being of old secrets one would be thoroughly dissuaded of the notion. As far as you can tell Aakebushu sees little reason not to speak truth: "They are less than me and more than me, they wear the faces of the dead. Without me they are dust, without them I am blind. Can I see the sun now?"
There's a beat of silence as you internalize the question before asking. "If you step beyond the veil as you are what happens?"
Rain of blood? Locust plague? Zombie horde? All of them seem disturbingly possible, though it might just be you feeling shaken from down below.
"I... don't know but if
bad things happen I will step back and it will no longer be bad." The grey-skinned corpse-child then sketches an X in front of his chest with the tips of his fingers, funerary wrappings butn and flesh sizzles, but he doesn't seem bothered. "Cross my heart."
What do you reply?
[] Agree, you promised to help him make a change, this is a step on that path
[] Refuse, you need to get to someone with scrying capabilities, the Senior Council, maybe Mab, you have to find them, the four
[] Write in
OOC: Incidentally this is worth a lot of XP.