---
[GM]
"Uh . . ." says the vampire, a bit stunned. "Damien Morris . . . got
it, I'll tell Cozbi if I see him again.
[Jezreel's resonance: yes, he believes himself to be speaking truth, WHY?
Well, he feels crappy about lying to you, he feels bad for you, and he is
too scared of you Angels to say no . . .]
[Jezreel]
Still meeting his eyes, Jezreel simply says, "Thank you," as though she is
sure he will do her this favor...
[GM]
As Detective Ross leads the undead down the hall, the vampire's head
turns to catch a last glimpse of the child angel before he himself turns
a corner down the hall, and vanishes from sight.
[Jezreel]
Jezreel maintains her proud stance until the vampire is completely gone
from sight. Then her posture slumps. All the tears have dried now; she's
more or less beyond grief now. It's more the weariness that comes with
learning that the Universe doesn't always live up to your expectations. She
sighs once and stands looking for all the world like a lost child...
Kalamiel returns from her short conversation with the
undead man, still surprised at how fast things moved at times.
She notices Jezreel standing there and moves closer. "You haven't
had much experience with the 'other side', have you? It's rough,
especially if you know people there." She sits on a nearby bench
and waits patiently.
"No, ma'am," Jezreel says without hesitation. She meets your eyes
directly, though she does blush a little as she adds, "Only my father...
And that's been enough..."
"There's no shame in that, Jezreel. All of us, even enigmatic
Yves, was young once."
The young Seraph gives an ready grin at that, trying and failing to create
a mental picture to go with the thought.
Kalamiel gives a warm laugh that seems out of place
in the institutional corridors of the station. "And you don't have to
call me 'ma'am', unless you want me to call you 'most holy' all the
time."
Looking a bit embarrassed, Jezreel says, "No, thank you. I'll try and
remember... Sorry... It's just that Mother spent so much time trying to
teach me manners that sometimes it's hard to unlearn them now..."
[Kalamiel]
She smiles, "You don't unlearn good manners, you just
use a different set under different circumstances. Whenever
we're 'at work', I'll be very businesslike."
Jezreel nods and sighs. This echoes very strongly things that her mother
has told her about situational etiquette, but she despairs of ever really
understanding all the rules. "I'll try," she promises again solemnly.
Turning more sober, Kalamiel continues, "The Fallen hit different
choirs different ways, some of which can lead others to dissonance
of their souls. Elohim are hurt when ones they love Fall and this
clouds their objectivity and judgement. The ever-protective Cherubim
follow their attuned . . . even into the pit, itself. And Seraphim,"
she pauses, "Seraphim sometimes reject the Truth of what happened,
damning themselves in the process." She looks very, very sad for a
moment and then smiles at the young angel, "You are too sensible
to fall for a simple fate such as that, true?"
Jezreel nods solemnly. "I hope so, Kalamiel," she says, answering as
honestly as she can.
"When the Rebellion was new, we had no idea how easy it
was to Fall. These days we watch ourselves -- and each other! --
much more carefully. If you encounter your father, do not
forget you have friends as well."
The young Seraph smile. "I will," she promises. "Thank you."
She hesitates a moment and then confesses. "But I'm not giving up on him,
not yet. I still intend to Redeem him... Or at least try. He still loves
me," she explains. "That should be the key -- even Judgement agrees... at
least enough to let me try..." But even as she explains this, her eyes
look vaguely haunted.
Kalamiel squeezes her hand, "No one understands that better
than I. You _have_ to try, of course, just remember you are worthwhile
as well and don't lose yourself in the process."
Jezreel nods solemnly, taking your advice very seriously.
[Kalamiel]
She stretches and then
runs a hand through her hair, "If things were different, I'd say I
needed a
nap."
Confusion crosses Jezreel's expression here, though she does not actually ask.
Kalamiel chuckles softly, "It's been a somewhat trying day, and
it's late. People, some people, need sleep in these circumstances."
"Oh," Jezreel says, not quite feeling up to being eloquent. Then she
smiles and adds, "Thanks..."
[Kalamiel]
"As it is, though, I need to find a place to stay to maintain my
role. Does you mother need a gardener? I'm very good and I work
cheap."
"I don't think so," Jezreel says apologetically. "Our yard hardly
justifies occasional mowing, let alone a gardener. But I'm sure you're
welcome to stay for a while. Mom loves having company."
[Kalamiel]
She smiles, "Excellent. You'd be surprised at what can
be done with even the smallest of lawns. A friend of mine had
a very small one," she holds her hands about three feet apart,
"but it was still beautiful."
"That would be great," Jezreel says with real enthusiasm. "Would you
teach me?"
[Charybdis]
OOC: Fury? Are you there? Want to be social?
[Kalamiel]
"Certainly!" She beams, "Do you have a favorite
flower or plant? I tend toward roses, but you can have
nearly anything you want, really."
Jezreel shrugs. "I like the simple ones, I guess... Like buttercups and
daisies and honeysuckle... But I don't really know much about them... Other
than that they can be beautiful when the sunrise catches the morning dew
just right..."
Kalamiel chuckles, "Wildflowers are excellent, and their
cultivation is quite easy. The only significant effort is to place
them artfully . . . a meeting of nature and nurture."
Jezreel smiles at the thought.
[Kalamiel]
She grows
meditative for a moment, "People are wildflowers, I've always
thought."
The smile twists into confusion as you lose the literal minded Seraph with
your analogy. "Huh?" she asks.
[Chary]
OOC: Most 11 year olds would have trouble with that analogy -- at least
most of the ones at my school... So I figure an very non-worldly wise, 11
year old Seraph who takes everything as literal Truth would have to be
really confused...
The Malakite seems to understand her confusion, "Oh, not
literally, of course. But humans spread and grow and really need
very little to thrive. I've seen them come back from the most
horrible trials, stronger and more sure than ever, just as a field
will bloom after a wildfire has apparently swept all life away."
Jezreel nods as Kalamiel explains, smiling as understanding dawns. "Thank
you," she says, and you have the feeling that she means more for more than
just the explanation. "That's a lovely image."
Then deliberately working to extend the metaphor (with the heavy-handed
style of a child obviously trying to master a new skill), she says, "I hope
that Damien can be a wildflower then, sprouting up new faith after the
storm of my father's assault." She almost keeps the deep sadness and worry
from her expression.
[Charybdis]
OOC: You should see 8th graders try to slip a newly learned idiom into a
conversation or an essay... It can be very amusing to watch the beginnings
of figurative thought... :)
"That's the problem with the analogy, Jezreel. As a species,
wildflowers thrive, but individuals are quite fragile. This Damien, is
he sturdy? Or will he need help?"
[Meanwhile, elsewhere:
Damien: ZZZZZZzzzzzzzzzzzzzZZZZZZZZZzzzzzzzzzzzzzz
-Damien]
"I don't know," Jezreel says honestly. "I've only known him a few hours,
and we mostly talked computers... Until he told me about the raid at his
home." She pauses and thinks a moment. "He seemed pretty level-headed
during the crisis. He had enough sense to call me for help. But..." She
pauses again. "I don't suppose the Symphony would have guided me to him if
he didn't need help of some kind."