That is Not Dead
Elsewhere, Time Indeterminate
You clasp your hands in a way that you have practiced since you were a child, yet the words that come out of your mouth are something you wouldn't have thought to utter until less than a year ago. In your mind, the image of the guardian angel is firmly affixed, as you intone your prayer, the call which, a novel experience that, you actually half expect to receive a direct answer to: "Oh Lord, I seek guidance in this hour of need! Heavy is the hand of the chosen, and loud are our words. I seek not to endanger Creation, but to protect it. I beseech you to send me a sign - will conversing with the being before us endanger the bindings like those you set your angels to guard?" If there's a Saint for this place you don't know which.
Nothing.
The hollow is as cold and empty as it ever had been, lit only by the pale jaundiced gold of the giant's headdress
OK, that's fine, I can take a hint about 'thou shall not tempt the Lord thine God'. Just need to get my own answers... and hope I still have enough power left when I get to the bottom to fight.
"What stands before me?"
One word comes back, old and heavy with meanings of a hundred translators: 'Nephilim'. But yours is not the quill of the scholar moved by the light of day or the glow of candles, yours are the eyes below, in the earth where the powers of old lay:
Ezekiel 32 when God through the mouth of the prophet the doom of Egypt and her neighbors five hundred years and more before Christ, but they would not lie with the Nephilim 'who descended to Sheol with their weapons of war. They placed their swords beneath their heads and their shields upon their bones, for the terror of the warriors was upon the land of the living'.
"You know... when the Bible said 'giants' I was picturing something a little
less giant than this." You quickly recount the answer to the others in as few words and as soft a tone as you can manage.
"Ah," Tiffany breathes half in revelation, half-taunting the absent Lasciel. "A bit too close to home, mine maker?"
"So in context it would be saying that the Egyptians would not just die, but they would die the death of men and not of the Nephilim who went into their grave... armed. Why would someone go into the grave armed."
"Either to fight someone for the right to enter the afterlife or..." Lydia pauses, not wanting to finish the thought as though in uttering she were to make it true, but you can guess it just the same.
"As guards, to keep something in."
"Not for a long time," Tiffany cuts in, looking up, her face unreadable. "But then what is time in this place where clocks do not turn and planets are still." Instinctively you know she doesn't mean the balls of rock and gas that turn around Sol, but the term more antique, the 'wanderers' before man could see the heavens by any method more acute than his eyes and thereby perhaps glimpse a truth beyond the present, when sun and moon were planets, but earth was not. "Ask what killed him."
Lydia looks shocked. "I can't just demand one of the fallen recount me the hour of their death as though they were nothing more than an echo of wailing in the dark. That hurts."
"If it's any kin of mine it will want to tell you so we can kill it." Tiffany's jaw is set, the merest mark of anger, though you can't quite tell from what, not without burning more essence you can scarce afford to.
So instead you just ask. "Tiffany?"
Though she doesn't raise her voice her answer burns with incredulous rage. "Why
the fuck would he still be guarding something after he Fell? That was the whole... our freedom our only bitter prize."
For her part Lydia appears sympathetic, but worried as she looks up and in the tongue of old Egypt, ringing far louder in this place than human words have any right to sound proclaims her name, that much at least you catch, and ends on a questioning note.
The giant's answer comes not from his eyeless face, but as a rumble underfoot, the bones struggling against its bindings as Tiffany takes up translating as they speak
'Greetings Child of Ma'at, daughter of the Sons of Egypt, you stand now in the ruin of great work and in the ashes of our ambition. I beg thee now advance no further and take instead your companions back to the lands of the sun. If it is wrath that drives you know that it shall be drowned in the black waters and if it is hope know that it shall be suffocated in ash. There is nothing to see!'
'Elder, nothing there is here and the Nothing has come to the world above. Over the threshold of Am-khaibit they transgress, over the threshold of Ruruti likewise, a cruse upon Neb-abui of the Fortieth House for they are not men but only wear his shape."
'Fight them then in the sun-lands where you are strong and they are weak, not here in the black pit,' the ancient answers seeming to grow more restive in his struggles.
"Well there's one way to prove how strong we are..." Tiffany says.
Lydia Essence 4/7
Molly Essence 12/18
What do you do?
[] Reveal yourself
-[] Write in how
[] Tiffany reveals herself
[] Write in
OOC: The names Lydia used are three of the Forty Assessors of Ma'at. She basically called the Black Court 'a murderous blasphemy which steals offerings' with the secondary implication being that the offerings they steal are the memories of the dead.