[Open] And Did the Countenance Divine

[graveling]

Who: Angel and You
What: Properly priesting, or trying to at least
When: July
Where: Yes!
Warning(s): None yet

1. I will not cease from mental fight [Temple Matters]
With Degas on his sabbatical, Angel is taking on the full mantle of Priest of the Mothers. He’s wearing the brown robes of a priest and the green stole with braided knotwork patterns similar to Celtic designs along it, even though doing so makes him feel a little like a child in their father’s shoes.

Still, he’s here if you need guidance or blessing, trying to fill the role.


2. Nor shall my sword sleep in my hand [Milk and Honey]
As he’s trying to fill the role of full-time priest, Angel’s still in his robes as he brings products from Kasprak farm into town. Vegetables and fruits, eggs and goat’s milk. And, of course, honey, in small glass jars all with a wax stamp on top–a bee with a pair of stylized feathered wings.

He’s visiting stores and restaurants, but if you catch him on the carriage Arcadia’s pulling, you might get tossed a ripe tomato or offered a melon. There’s plenty to go around.


3. Till we have built Jerusalem [A Day Off]
Sometimes, it’s all a bit much. Angel occasionally runs away from his duties. Never on days when there are services planned, never when he’s scheduled for something. But when restlessness strikes, Angel’s feet take him to the wild parts of the island. Paradesium, Lockwood Forest near Elsie’s Tree, and even nosing around the cave near Tawny Beach, though it’s been caved in since he and River had their adventure. He isn’t wearing his robes, he hasn’t combed his hair, he might be up a tree or sitting on a rock, and he surely isn’t expecting company.

But still, if you approach, there’s a sheepish little nod and a wave.


4. In England's green and pleasant land [Wildcard]
[find me on discord at darkersolstice to plot]

Comments

[abhorrently]

She doesn't bite.

Her forehead is warm - she's overheated from all the exertion. His touch is a cool balm, and all she does is breathe. Listen to the quiet, she hears Daisy's voice saying. So she does, literal as it might be, on the floor and full of pain. But quiet in abundance. It'll take more energy than she has at the moment to feel humiliated by the whole ordeal, yet it will come.

[graveling]

Seconds pass.

Minutes pass.

His voice rumbles out of him like distant peals of thunder. “You with me again?” As if she’d done nothing more than fainted or had an epileptic seizure.

[abhorrently]

"...yeah. I'm here."

Soft, strained, as if all the fighting had scraped her throat raw, and not just her wrists. Neck and jaw hurting from being clenched, from all the strain. If Fever could teleport, she'd roll her body just like this into the hot springs, to soak out the aches.

No request to get up, to be untied. That's out of her hands at present. She's still trying to process what just happened - that she can remember all of it. It's not hazy. That choking, searing feeling around her heart was absent. Something was different, this time.

[graveling]

"I'm going to get off you. Nothing sudden, now. We're going to be slow and careful about this." He moves off to the side that allows her to see him, the look in his eyes soft with lingering concern for her well-being. "There we go."

[abhorrently]

It takes her a second to focus on him again, trying to connect the sight to the absence of pressure on her back. Thoughts coming back in, careful ones. Just breathing, steady and slow. There's something like guilt in her expression, and she can't hold his eyes for too long. This isn't how she wants to be seen.

"Are you hurt?"

It's important to ask.

[graveling]

“Nope, not at all. You tried to bite me, but I overpowered you. And the words didn’t hurt either, so don’t start worrying about that. You are hurt, or at least hurting. I can spare a Healing Word or Cure Wounds for the chafing on your wrists, and I have a supply of the special honey, too. If you want to try some of that for the not-wrists.”

He’s still tasking, in the manner of a working dog, instead of being done with her now.

[abhorrently]

"Okay. What makes it special honey?"

Medicine in her pocket, she remembers that. There's a pill box there - it'll work, when she can get to it. That'll alleviate her head. Simple thoughts, logical ones. Breathe in, shift, and the farthest she can get is just to roll onto her side instead of her stomach.

Why hasn't he left? Why hasn't he pulled away, now that the threat is past?

[graveling]

“The flowers that the bees make it from are a special gift from Serranai. It tends to help people relax a little. Like, it definitely wouldn’t have prevented this, but it might help you recover.”

He’s bracing for her to be mad he didn’t try it up front anyway. It’s less a curative, more a gentle comfort.

[abhorrently]

"Not a sedative, then."

They'd have needed something very strong, to keep this down. She can't be mad. She spent all the energy that would have been rage in his direction on herself, on trying to get away from him. She looks as bad as she feels, and there's no point in pretending otherwise.

"I'll try anything, really. Whatever might help."

He could feed her rat poison, and she'd still eat it after knowing what it was.

[graveling]

"I'll be back shortly."

And he is, he is. With tea and a little bread, and a knife to cut the cording from her hands, which he does carefully before healing the chafing in a soft display of golden holy light.

"I coulda grabbed that dagger you kept trying to go for. But that felt real rude."

[abhorrently]

With her hands free now, she carefully moves herself up back to sitting, watching him as he heals her. Instantly, the pain there is soothed away, and she slowly flexes her hands to stretch them. No lasting damage. She can do as she likes again, as long as she takes care with her movements.

Which translates right now into her reaching into her pocket to get a small box, and some of her headache medicine, swallowed down with the tea. That'll kick in soon enough.

"...If you'd done that, I think it would have made everything worse. So, thanks."

She might have torn her arms from their sockets trying to get it back. Touchstone, talisman, protection when she'd already given up her hands and thus her ability to cast.

[graveling]

"I meant for cutting you loose just now. I wouldn't have made the mistake of trying to grab it in the midst of things." Angel sits down beside her again, relaxing as much as his body may.

[abhorrently]

"Thank you."

The bread, she'll have to eat in very small bites, to make sure her body doesn't reject it. It's a wonder she didn't physically cough up bile, and kept it all metaphorical instead.

A moment passes, and her eyes flick to him, then away.

"...Sorry. For all of that."

It's an inadequate apology, but she's beginning to feel the self-consciousness start to grow. Sure, Angel already knew she was strange, and she doesn't fully hide that she's a wretched, terrible thing, but this feels like a wound's still open. Something where the right implement can still be shoved in and twisted. Her throat exposed. Say sorry. Bury it. Bury it so deep it suffocates.

[graveling]

"You only get the one. Apology, not instance of me helping you, I mean. I will do this a hundred, a thousand times, if it's what you need." He means it, too, even though he knows she's going to be as much of a bitch self-conscious about asking for help as Father Mulcahy is.

[abhorrently]

She's quiet for a bit afterwards, making herself eat a bit more bread as she tries to figure out what that statement makes her feel. Something murky, still full of the same stinging as the feeling of being vulnerable.

"I don't want to ask that of you."

It's not said to reject his words, but to express her own feelings.

"There are people that know, that I should have brought up to reach out to instead. Or I should have just...gone back to my apartment."

[graveling]

"Okay. You didn't, though. You told me what you needed, in the moment. I'm not sure if that was a matter of urgency, or not wanting to let anyone else know you were having a struggle."

[abhorrently]

"...urgency. At least, it felt like that. Like there was very little time before I was going to hurt you. I had it all in my head. What to do."

How to kill him, how many pieces to try to get his body in before the inevitable disappearance.

"And I wanted to do it so very, very much."

[graveling]

"You didn't, though," Angel repeats insistently. "You told me what you needed, in the moment. That matters."

[abhorrently]

"I don't know if that's enough."

It should have been more controlled, on her terms. She should have reached out to the others sooner, known this would happen. Her mind rifles through concepts, looking for the one that suits her emotions best. There's a number of them, under her ribs.

"Is it?"

[graveling]

He looks her dead in the eyes.

"Do you think your expectation that you're going to be at peak performance with skills instantly is because you don't remember the work you've put into learning to be as good as you are?"

[abhorrently]

Her head throbs still, and she looks at him with the same tired, blank expression she's wearing.

"This isn't like picking up a new weapon when you already have another. I need to have this in hand, if there's going to be anything like that community."

[graveling]

"If just knowing that was enough, you would have it in hand already. Instead, there's progress to make, steps before you get to where you want to be. And that's okay."

[abhorrently]

Fever exchanges the bread for the tea, sipping and willing for the honey to work in her body. There's a lot that batters itself around in the cage of her chest, and her eyes go to the cup, before they settle back on him.

"It's really all right?"

[graveling]

“Really-really. You have time to get where you want to be with yourself. You’re allowed to need that time.”

There’s an impish part of him that whispers to take some of the bread for himself. But he doesn’t need it. He isn’t hungry, not really. It’s some other drive that he is not sure how to fill.

[abhorrently]

The heat of the cup fills her hands, and she tilts her head back to rest against the wall.

"...I'm late for work. Undoubtedly."

Still, she's not stirring to get up.