Arizona Nova
17-01-2007, 15:41
.:ooc:. Hello world! It’s been a while since I’ve done some serious roleplaying, specifically of the story bent. I’ve been wrestling out this particular episode in my mind for a while now, and it finally hit the “best by” date around 1 A.M. GMT+1, 12-1-07, and I just had to get it down right then. It finally fleshes out a bit the Arizona Novanian wing of Christianity, the Church of Saint Paul, as well as the back-story behind Anikar. I think – hope – that it represents the best and most refined of my writing so far, broadened as it has been by absorption of many fictions from many genres and honed by many English courses.
The RP is Closed, and please don’t say “OMG EVILPRIMITIVECHURCH I DECLARE TEH WAR." Comments and constructive criticism are, however, welcome. Enjoy!
“Science has done little insofar as it has given things more names.”
~Anikar, Former Empress of Arizona Nova
***
The snow was falling hard and thick as Cardinal Simon Anchares made his way through the blizzard to the imposing castle on the crags above. The venerable-looking fortress was actually the Ondataru-bound residence of the former Empress, Anikar herself. Her disappearance and subsequent reappearance enveloping the Wrath of the Great Carnivore, the attack by Fate and Julius upon Arizona Nova, had left many mystified and baffled. Dark stories grew up around her; or more than usual, at least, each more hideous than the last. Simon was not interested in wive’s tales and hearsay. He was a Cardinal within the great Church of Saint Paul, the oldest and most powerful extension of even more ancient Terran Christianity in Arizona Nova, if not the known universe. His robes – traveling robes, mind you, the ceremonial stuff would be useless against the cold – while still lightly ornamented, were still heavy and practical enough to shield against the cold and sleet. By the time he got to the great oaken doors (Terran Oak even, an exorbitant luxury), he was covered in a layer of snow and frost, his brown robes turned white. Simon went over the mission in his head as the Blessed had given to him: to ascertain exactly the descent and species of Anikar.
***
“What? What use is this information, your Holiness?” he had replied. His voice echoed in the marble halls.
From his throne the aged Blessed fixed his wizened stare on the Cardinal. His beardless face wore thousands of lines, for he had lived hundreds of years. He had received treatments to extend his life greatly, and could have done them indefinitely, but had recently decided to stop them, so that he may finally join in eternal communion with the Oversentient. The Blessed gathered his thoughts for a moment, deliberately and carefully, as was his wont.
“I have heard, much things, about this Anikar,” he said slowly and proudly, as if the Empress had been some upstart heretic or the like. “Odd things. Rumors of parentage… that is not normal, among men, or elves, or anything.” The Blessed shuddered a little at the last – which was odd. Little moved this old rock of a man.
“Odd parentage?” repeated the Cardinal.
“Rumors,” continued the Blessed, “that she is not of this world, or any. Some say…” – the Cardinal looked slowly about, as if afraid the walls had ears and would screech the report of his next words to Heaven – “that she is a demon.” He shuddered once more, moved by some ancient memory. “Others, that she is a, extra-dimensional.” He stickily mouthed the last two words, as if the notion was infinitely more outlandish than the first. “Like the Balroggans,” he said with a lazy wave of his hand, as if speaking to a child.
The Cardinal nodded patiently. “I see, your Holiness,” he obediently replied. “If she is of… non-mortal heritage, she would be a, bogey, to Mother Church.”
At this the Blessed looked wistfully at the Cardinal. “Now Cardinal Anchares, let us not be so, hasty. The greatest threat she could possibly, at the moment, present to Mother Church is to our Truth.”
“The Dogma?” asked Cardinal Anchares, unsure.
“Yes, to the Dogma. If she somehow revealed her heritage to the people, perhaps through some mighty sign, she might persuade the people of lies about the Church, or about the Truth.”
“An Anti-christ,” breathed the Cardinal.
“Si,” curtly replied the Blessed.
“What must be done, your Holiness?”
“You, my dear son, Cardinal Anchares, my right hand in this life, you must go to her in her great fortress upon Ondataru. You must seek her out, and you must, find out her intent.”
The Cardinal was taken aback. “Find out her intent? That is all?”
“Yes,” said the Blessed. “That is all that can be allowed. And, do not bring the Holy Water or… exorcism equipment either.”
At this, the Cardinal registered even greater shock. “But your Holiness, if she is an agent of the Evil One…”
“Then there will be a time for Christian armies to throw her down, in that case, later. You are but one man… if she has the power that I think she has… she will completely destroy you with a thought, and that if you are lucky.” The Blessed’s demeanor grew serious and grim, his speech direct and penetrating. “Remember you well what the Sons of Chaos did to the elves of Arenumberg and their worlds? It will be as the greatest mercy, in comparison to what she could do to you, if she serves the Evil One, Grandfather of All Chaos.”
“I understand fully, your Holiness,” said the Cardinal. It was his turn to shudder. He had exorcised demons before, years ago; he carried the terrible memories still. This, however, could be real, terrible power. A demon incarnate… the greatest nightmare of a priest of the Anikari Rite.
“Go in peace, serve the Lord,” said the Blessed, looking deeply into the Cardinal’s eyes as he performed the Sign of the Cross to seal the benediction. “And, be safe,” he added.
The Cardinal bowed low and turned to the door, walking as one about to face the lions.
***
The Cardinal drew close to the heavy wooden panels of the door. He spied a small intercom, seamlessly integrated into the masonry of the doorway, and pressed the button. A moment later a female voice – one universally known among the Arizona Novanians, a voice hard, authoritative, and sly, of one who hatched byzantine plots and negotiated power like a sailing ship the seas, the voice of this mysterious former Empress, Anikar.
“Hm, now who is it that comes knocking on my door on such an inhospitable day as this? A duke, a captain, a bishop… or a Cardinal?”
A chill ran down Simon’s back. It was Anikar’s wont to be very well informed – how, nobody knew.
“Yes,” he said, his teeth chattering slightly – only half from cold – “it is I, Cardinal Simon Anchares of the Church of Saint Paul the Apostle. I have come at the bidding of his Ble…”
“Good Cardinal, save your speeches for inside. I shall open the door now.”
The heavy wooden doors in front of the Cardinal began to recede and disappear into the doorway, and mechanically the Cardinal walked inside, one part of him urging him in to escape the cold, the other part screaming to get back out, to avoid whatever lay within.
The grand entrance hall was dimly lit, but as the Cardinal’s eyes adjusted to the gloom, he made out many humanoid shapes – his skittish nerves first imagined fiends, but as his rational mind took back the reins, the shades were revealed to be nothing more than empty armor suits. As if spiteful at being reprimanded, that wilder part of his imagination grimly reminded him – demons need not possess just the living, either… any living shape will do. He shuddered and walked on into the hall. In a moment he espied a light at the other end, and soon the visage of the cause of his quest appeared before him. As young, tall and graceful as ever, Anikar made her way toward the Cardinal, clad in a simple dressing gown, something amazingly humble for a former absolute and ageless head of state, peacefully and, strangely, legally deposed. As she approached, she inspired no great lust in the Cardinal, being someone built lithely, neither enticingly voluptuous nor grossly muscle-bound, but nonetheless he quickly uttered the Prayer for Warding of the Spirit anyway. The least succubus could play such tricks with their forms, after all.
“Good evening, Cardinal,” she said, in a voice crisp and clear. “Now, come along with me to the inner chambers so we might warm you up a bit. The journey has doubtless been long and cold for you.”
“Yes indeed,” said the Cardinal uneasily. “My taxi driver would not go past the outer wall, after all, and it was a long walk.”
She smiled knowingly. “Now, is it my fault if everyone around me is superstitious about a harmless woman, even though she chooses an imposing residence?”
“It may not be only the residence, however, that pricks their fears,” said the Cardinal delicately.
“Oh? And what does the Good Cardinal suggest, hm?” said Anikar baldly, as one who knew the answer to the question before asking it, but nonetheless relished the asking.
“That,” he said almost haggardly, “Is what I am here about. Many tales surround you of late, and I am here to ascertain the truth for the Truth of Truths, for Mother Church.”
Anikar smiled widely, revealing myriad dazzling teeth. “For Mother Church? You Christians are a cagey bunch. What is it now? Am I the Anti-christ, or some lost descendent of some refugees of Gomorrah here to multiply their sins again, or the sister of Judas, condemned to walk the Earth and all the earths for eternity?” She shook her head, and fixed her gaze at some point in the ceiling, then upon Cardinal Anchares again. “You especially are cagey. Don’t think I didn’t see you, fearfully peering about in the entry hall, or as you came slinking up the hill. I grow tired unto sickness of all this stupid fear, and especially from someone of your stature.” She narrowed her eyes and leaned closer to the Cardinal, and spoke softly but clearly. “And if you think you might meet your end here, you had better do it with your head held high, eyes bright, and singing praises, no?”
The Cardinal jumped back a pace, his eyes wide with horror. “Wha-at? What did you just say?”
But she was normal, as if the last moment had not even happened. “Hm? I was saying, I grow tired of all this fear, that is all,” she said with a smile. “Now,” she said turning around, “To the inner chambers?” The Cardinal thought he caught the faintest spark of playful cruelty in her eyes – she was toying with him, toying with his mind and senses! He felt a singularly strong urge to run forth from this damned place with all speed, but again his rational mind put the lash to his desperation. He had a mission from the Blessed, and even unto his own death, he would see if fulfilled.
“Yes,” he said more strongly and resolved. To the inner chambers.”
He followed her as she made her way through the many twisting corridors and branching paths, deep into the heart of the fortress. She deftly maneuvered the passageways, and at a surprising speed, for it was all the Cardinal could do to keep up. He once feared he lost her in a dark intersection, and almost began to wail, for here he could not go forward or back without getting lost, and then she reappeared in some other entrance, the same predator glee sparkling in her eyes. Good God, her eyes! They were the entrance to the soul, and her soul was deep and peerless, as perilous as these tunnels to the unwary. The Cardinal consigned himself to doom, and in his head struggled to remember the specific wording for the Last Rites should he need be deliver them unto himself – he hoped he would have sanity enough to do so! Finally, they came unto the inner chambers. He followed her through its open door, and craned his neck, marveling at the shelves. Stories of books, with ladders great and small striding them! The walls too contained volumes in legion, the left and right forming a great concave surface of spines, their edges farthest from the door terminating in a great fireplace, in which a fire crackled merrily away, feasting upon a dinner of more common Ondatarun birch, and between them and the fire were perched a number of sumptuous pieces of furniture, clad in fine gleaming leather.
“These…books,” he gasped out stupidly, “You have read them?”
She looked appraisingly at the collection, as if uncertain herself of the answer. “Yes. Not here, of course, and not more than once each. This is my little scion of the lost Tyrion Archive from hallowed Arizona Prime. Don’t look so dumbfounded, Cardinal – the ages I live are long, and quite boring when the senses are untapped. Books are among the best agents I have found for this; unlike pictures, which you take all at once, or eating and animal lust, which ends far too quickly, a good long book or books engage the mind for appreciable stretches, and even long after it has been read. Factor in the interconnections and references, the history and context, and really their potential is infinite. They are the one thing humanity has done that I find really impressive.”
“Humanity,” he repeated. “You talk as a bemused outsider,” said the Cardinal warily.
“Do I?” she asked almost coyly, fixing the Cardinal with her knowing stare.
“Yes. You know why I am here then.”
“So, Mother Church has finally guessed at the former Empress’s deep dark secret, has she? Or does she know the truth, or Truth, or does she only think she does? Enlighten me, Cardinal.”
“Mother Church,” he said with a small measure of exasperation in his voice, “Has only postulated a guess, as dark as it is light. But so great is the mere possibility of that darkness, that I have been dispatched to discern truth for Truth.”
“I see,” she said. “Would it interest Mother Church for me to fully regurgitate my theological leanings then?” She turned away from him, looking toward the fire, her form silhouetted in it.
“Uh, your what?” said the Cardinal, taken aback. Those not mortal would not have “theological leanings;” even the demons feared God incarnate!
“I know of no other term simple enough for your simian intellects to understand,” she said, her voice taking on a hard edge.
“Oh.” He swallowed.
“I tire of this.” She turned her head to the side, and suddenly he saw – her eyes! Glowing, shimmering the lightest blue, brighter than the fire! Only for a moment though, then they were as they were.
“Ah. Mother Church is worried I shall make an Anti-christ of myself. Mother Church does not know where I swing in the God-Satan polarity. Mother Church wishes that I promise against the former, and emulate Michael in the latter.”
The Cardinal fell to his knees in awe and fear. “Yes,” he hoarsely whispered. “This is what the church desires.”
She turned back toward him, looking down at the form now buckled before her, eyes full of contempt and disgust – but not, the dumbstruck cleric noted, malice.
“Have you read Genesis, Cardinal?” she asked sardonically. “Do not answer, because I’m going to explain it anyway.”
She strode over to a nearby shelf, and barely even looking to check, plucked out a tome, and flipped it open in her one palm, while flipping a few pages with the other. Her finger paused not far in.
“Genesis 6:1-4: When men began to increase in number upon the earth and daughters were born to them, the sons of God saw that the daughters of men were beautiful, and they married any of them they chose. Then the Lord said, “My Spirit will not contend with man forever, for he is mortal; his days will be a hundred and twenty years.”
The Nephilim were on the earth in those days – and also afterward – when the sons of God went to the daughters of men and had children by them. They were the heroes of old, men of reknown.”
She deftly shut the book and put her other hand back down by her side in one fluid movement, staring imperiously at the prostrate Cardinal.
“You… you are Nephilim?” he offered weakly.
At this her eyes flew wide in anger, and she threw the tome at him. The room betrayed a row rumble, as if some volcano far beneath slept unquietly.
“Idiot!” she screamed. “Would you copulate with a sheep? With a rat? Nephilim! Bastard children whose destruction was well-deserved!”
The Cardinal, now lying on his side with the great tome next to him, looked up into the snarling face of the former Empress with a sly smile plastered on his face.
“So you are, after all, no part mortal?”
Anikar’s demeanor cooled, white-hot hate gleaming in her eyes burning in an otherwise frosty countenance. “A clever ruse, Cardinal. I am now doubly sorry for underestimating you. How much have you guessed at?”
Taking up the tome, the Cardinal got up and motioned to the couches, and he and she both took a seat, opposite each other. He cradled the tome upon his legs, carefully and gently, rubbing the battered cover. Anikar merely crossed her legs, and cradled her chin in her hand, carefully looking the Cardinal over, her eyes flickering from anger to curiosity even to a sort of shame. Here was a mortal worthy of her ken; Anithraldur she loved for his blunt honesty and loyalty, but here was one who was crafty and keen, Moriarty to Holmes, or vice versa.
He opened back up to the passage. “I’ve only guessed at what I’ve said, really. The incidents in the passages you picked were but one possibility I was entertaining; my prostrate squeaking was genuine dumbfounded-ness. There is a story untold here, I imagine?”
“Yes,” she said, as if suddenly tired, her eyes turning inward. “As old as the bones of Terra.”
The RP is Closed, and please don’t say “OMG EVILPRIMITIVECHURCH I DECLARE TEH WAR." Comments and constructive criticism are, however, welcome. Enjoy!
“Science has done little insofar as it has given things more names.”
~Anikar, Former Empress of Arizona Nova
***
The snow was falling hard and thick as Cardinal Simon Anchares made his way through the blizzard to the imposing castle on the crags above. The venerable-looking fortress was actually the Ondataru-bound residence of the former Empress, Anikar herself. Her disappearance and subsequent reappearance enveloping the Wrath of the Great Carnivore, the attack by Fate and Julius upon Arizona Nova, had left many mystified and baffled. Dark stories grew up around her; or more than usual, at least, each more hideous than the last. Simon was not interested in wive’s tales and hearsay. He was a Cardinal within the great Church of Saint Paul, the oldest and most powerful extension of even more ancient Terran Christianity in Arizona Nova, if not the known universe. His robes – traveling robes, mind you, the ceremonial stuff would be useless against the cold – while still lightly ornamented, were still heavy and practical enough to shield against the cold and sleet. By the time he got to the great oaken doors (Terran Oak even, an exorbitant luxury), he was covered in a layer of snow and frost, his brown robes turned white. Simon went over the mission in his head as the Blessed had given to him: to ascertain exactly the descent and species of Anikar.
***
“What? What use is this information, your Holiness?” he had replied. His voice echoed in the marble halls.
From his throne the aged Blessed fixed his wizened stare on the Cardinal. His beardless face wore thousands of lines, for he had lived hundreds of years. He had received treatments to extend his life greatly, and could have done them indefinitely, but had recently decided to stop them, so that he may finally join in eternal communion with the Oversentient. The Blessed gathered his thoughts for a moment, deliberately and carefully, as was his wont.
“I have heard, much things, about this Anikar,” he said slowly and proudly, as if the Empress had been some upstart heretic or the like. “Odd things. Rumors of parentage… that is not normal, among men, or elves, or anything.” The Blessed shuddered a little at the last – which was odd. Little moved this old rock of a man.
“Odd parentage?” repeated the Cardinal.
“Rumors,” continued the Blessed, “that she is not of this world, or any. Some say…” – the Cardinal looked slowly about, as if afraid the walls had ears and would screech the report of his next words to Heaven – “that she is a demon.” He shuddered once more, moved by some ancient memory. “Others, that she is a, extra-dimensional.” He stickily mouthed the last two words, as if the notion was infinitely more outlandish than the first. “Like the Balroggans,” he said with a lazy wave of his hand, as if speaking to a child.
The Cardinal nodded patiently. “I see, your Holiness,” he obediently replied. “If she is of… non-mortal heritage, she would be a, bogey, to Mother Church.”
At this the Blessed looked wistfully at the Cardinal. “Now Cardinal Anchares, let us not be so, hasty. The greatest threat she could possibly, at the moment, present to Mother Church is to our Truth.”
“The Dogma?” asked Cardinal Anchares, unsure.
“Yes, to the Dogma. If she somehow revealed her heritage to the people, perhaps through some mighty sign, she might persuade the people of lies about the Church, or about the Truth.”
“An Anti-christ,” breathed the Cardinal.
“Si,” curtly replied the Blessed.
“What must be done, your Holiness?”
“You, my dear son, Cardinal Anchares, my right hand in this life, you must go to her in her great fortress upon Ondataru. You must seek her out, and you must, find out her intent.”
The Cardinal was taken aback. “Find out her intent? That is all?”
“Yes,” said the Blessed. “That is all that can be allowed. And, do not bring the Holy Water or… exorcism equipment either.”
At this, the Cardinal registered even greater shock. “But your Holiness, if she is an agent of the Evil One…”
“Then there will be a time for Christian armies to throw her down, in that case, later. You are but one man… if she has the power that I think she has… she will completely destroy you with a thought, and that if you are lucky.” The Blessed’s demeanor grew serious and grim, his speech direct and penetrating. “Remember you well what the Sons of Chaos did to the elves of Arenumberg and their worlds? It will be as the greatest mercy, in comparison to what she could do to you, if she serves the Evil One, Grandfather of All Chaos.”
“I understand fully, your Holiness,” said the Cardinal. It was his turn to shudder. He had exorcised demons before, years ago; he carried the terrible memories still. This, however, could be real, terrible power. A demon incarnate… the greatest nightmare of a priest of the Anikari Rite.
“Go in peace, serve the Lord,” said the Blessed, looking deeply into the Cardinal’s eyes as he performed the Sign of the Cross to seal the benediction. “And, be safe,” he added.
The Cardinal bowed low and turned to the door, walking as one about to face the lions.
***
The Cardinal drew close to the heavy wooden panels of the door. He spied a small intercom, seamlessly integrated into the masonry of the doorway, and pressed the button. A moment later a female voice – one universally known among the Arizona Novanians, a voice hard, authoritative, and sly, of one who hatched byzantine plots and negotiated power like a sailing ship the seas, the voice of this mysterious former Empress, Anikar.
“Hm, now who is it that comes knocking on my door on such an inhospitable day as this? A duke, a captain, a bishop… or a Cardinal?”
A chill ran down Simon’s back. It was Anikar’s wont to be very well informed – how, nobody knew.
“Yes,” he said, his teeth chattering slightly – only half from cold – “it is I, Cardinal Simon Anchares of the Church of Saint Paul the Apostle. I have come at the bidding of his Ble…”
“Good Cardinal, save your speeches for inside. I shall open the door now.”
The heavy wooden doors in front of the Cardinal began to recede and disappear into the doorway, and mechanically the Cardinal walked inside, one part of him urging him in to escape the cold, the other part screaming to get back out, to avoid whatever lay within.
The grand entrance hall was dimly lit, but as the Cardinal’s eyes adjusted to the gloom, he made out many humanoid shapes – his skittish nerves first imagined fiends, but as his rational mind took back the reins, the shades were revealed to be nothing more than empty armor suits. As if spiteful at being reprimanded, that wilder part of his imagination grimly reminded him – demons need not possess just the living, either… any living shape will do. He shuddered and walked on into the hall. In a moment he espied a light at the other end, and soon the visage of the cause of his quest appeared before him. As young, tall and graceful as ever, Anikar made her way toward the Cardinal, clad in a simple dressing gown, something amazingly humble for a former absolute and ageless head of state, peacefully and, strangely, legally deposed. As she approached, she inspired no great lust in the Cardinal, being someone built lithely, neither enticingly voluptuous nor grossly muscle-bound, but nonetheless he quickly uttered the Prayer for Warding of the Spirit anyway. The least succubus could play such tricks with their forms, after all.
“Good evening, Cardinal,” she said, in a voice crisp and clear. “Now, come along with me to the inner chambers so we might warm you up a bit. The journey has doubtless been long and cold for you.”
“Yes indeed,” said the Cardinal uneasily. “My taxi driver would not go past the outer wall, after all, and it was a long walk.”
She smiled knowingly. “Now, is it my fault if everyone around me is superstitious about a harmless woman, even though she chooses an imposing residence?”
“It may not be only the residence, however, that pricks their fears,” said the Cardinal delicately.
“Oh? And what does the Good Cardinal suggest, hm?” said Anikar baldly, as one who knew the answer to the question before asking it, but nonetheless relished the asking.
“That,” he said almost haggardly, “Is what I am here about. Many tales surround you of late, and I am here to ascertain the truth for the Truth of Truths, for Mother Church.”
Anikar smiled widely, revealing myriad dazzling teeth. “For Mother Church? You Christians are a cagey bunch. What is it now? Am I the Anti-christ, or some lost descendent of some refugees of Gomorrah here to multiply their sins again, or the sister of Judas, condemned to walk the Earth and all the earths for eternity?” She shook her head, and fixed her gaze at some point in the ceiling, then upon Cardinal Anchares again. “You especially are cagey. Don’t think I didn’t see you, fearfully peering about in the entry hall, or as you came slinking up the hill. I grow tired unto sickness of all this stupid fear, and especially from someone of your stature.” She narrowed her eyes and leaned closer to the Cardinal, and spoke softly but clearly. “And if you think you might meet your end here, you had better do it with your head held high, eyes bright, and singing praises, no?”
The Cardinal jumped back a pace, his eyes wide with horror. “Wha-at? What did you just say?”
But she was normal, as if the last moment had not even happened. “Hm? I was saying, I grow tired of all this fear, that is all,” she said with a smile. “Now,” she said turning around, “To the inner chambers?” The Cardinal thought he caught the faintest spark of playful cruelty in her eyes – she was toying with him, toying with his mind and senses! He felt a singularly strong urge to run forth from this damned place with all speed, but again his rational mind put the lash to his desperation. He had a mission from the Blessed, and even unto his own death, he would see if fulfilled.
“Yes,” he said more strongly and resolved. To the inner chambers.”
He followed her as she made her way through the many twisting corridors and branching paths, deep into the heart of the fortress. She deftly maneuvered the passageways, and at a surprising speed, for it was all the Cardinal could do to keep up. He once feared he lost her in a dark intersection, and almost began to wail, for here he could not go forward or back without getting lost, and then she reappeared in some other entrance, the same predator glee sparkling in her eyes. Good God, her eyes! They were the entrance to the soul, and her soul was deep and peerless, as perilous as these tunnels to the unwary. The Cardinal consigned himself to doom, and in his head struggled to remember the specific wording for the Last Rites should he need be deliver them unto himself – he hoped he would have sanity enough to do so! Finally, they came unto the inner chambers. He followed her through its open door, and craned his neck, marveling at the shelves. Stories of books, with ladders great and small striding them! The walls too contained volumes in legion, the left and right forming a great concave surface of spines, their edges farthest from the door terminating in a great fireplace, in which a fire crackled merrily away, feasting upon a dinner of more common Ondatarun birch, and between them and the fire were perched a number of sumptuous pieces of furniture, clad in fine gleaming leather.
“These…books,” he gasped out stupidly, “You have read them?”
She looked appraisingly at the collection, as if uncertain herself of the answer. “Yes. Not here, of course, and not more than once each. This is my little scion of the lost Tyrion Archive from hallowed Arizona Prime. Don’t look so dumbfounded, Cardinal – the ages I live are long, and quite boring when the senses are untapped. Books are among the best agents I have found for this; unlike pictures, which you take all at once, or eating and animal lust, which ends far too quickly, a good long book or books engage the mind for appreciable stretches, and even long after it has been read. Factor in the interconnections and references, the history and context, and really their potential is infinite. They are the one thing humanity has done that I find really impressive.”
“Humanity,” he repeated. “You talk as a bemused outsider,” said the Cardinal warily.
“Do I?” she asked almost coyly, fixing the Cardinal with her knowing stare.
“Yes. You know why I am here then.”
“So, Mother Church has finally guessed at the former Empress’s deep dark secret, has she? Or does she know the truth, or Truth, or does she only think she does? Enlighten me, Cardinal.”
“Mother Church,” he said with a small measure of exasperation in his voice, “Has only postulated a guess, as dark as it is light. But so great is the mere possibility of that darkness, that I have been dispatched to discern truth for Truth.”
“I see,” she said. “Would it interest Mother Church for me to fully regurgitate my theological leanings then?” She turned away from him, looking toward the fire, her form silhouetted in it.
“Uh, your what?” said the Cardinal, taken aback. Those not mortal would not have “theological leanings;” even the demons feared God incarnate!
“I know of no other term simple enough for your simian intellects to understand,” she said, her voice taking on a hard edge.
“Oh.” He swallowed.
“I tire of this.” She turned her head to the side, and suddenly he saw – her eyes! Glowing, shimmering the lightest blue, brighter than the fire! Only for a moment though, then they were as they were.
“Ah. Mother Church is worried I shall make an Anti-christ of myself. Mother Church does not know where I swing in the God-Satan polarity. Mother Church wishes that I promise against the former, and emulate Michael in the latter.”
The Cardinal fell to his knees in awe and fear. “Yes,” he hoarsely whispered. “This is what the church desires.”
She turned back toward him, looking down at the form now buckled before her, eyes full of contempt and disgust – but not, the dumbstruck cleric noted, malice.
“Have you read Genesis, Cardinal?” she asked sardonically. “Do not answer, because I’m going to explain it anyway.”
She strode over to a nearby shelf, and barely even looking to check, plucked out a tome, and flipped it open in her one palm, while flipping a few pages with the other. Her finger paused not far in.
“Genesis 6:1-4: When men began to increase in number upon the earth and daughters were born to them, the sons of God saw that the daughters of men were beautiful, and they married any of them they chose. Then the Lord said, “My Spirit will not contend with man forever, for he is mortal; his days will be a hundred and twenty years.”
The Nephilim were on the earth in those days – and also afterward – when the sons of God went to the daughters of men and had children by them. They were the heroes of old, men of reknown.”
She deftly shut the book and put her other hand back down by her side in one fluid movement, staring imperiously at the prostrate Cardinal.
“You… you are Nephilim?” he offered weakly.
At this her eyes flew wide in anger, and she threw the tome at him. The room betrayed a row rumble, as if some volcano far beneath slept unquietly.
“Idiot!” she screamed. “Would you copulate with a sheep? With a rat? Nephilim! Bastard children whose destruction was well-deserved!”
The Cardinal, now lying on his side with the great tome next to him, looked up into the snarling face of the former Empress with a sly smile plastered on his face.
“So you are, after all, no part mortal?”
Anikar’s demeanor cooled, white-hot hate gleaming in her eyes burning in an otherwise frosty countenance. “A clever ruse, Cardinal. I am now doubly sorry for underestimating you. How much have you guessed at?”
Taking up the tome, the Cardinal got up and motioned to the couches, and he and she both took a seat, opposite each other. He cradled the tome upon his legs, carefully and gently, rubbing the battered cover. Anikar merely crossed her legs, and cradled her chin in her hand, carefully looking the Cardinal over, her eyes flickering from anger to curiosity even to a sort of shame. Here was a mortal worthy of her ken; Anithraldur she loved for his blunt honesty and loyalty, but here was one who was crafty and keen, Moriarty to Holmes, or vice versa.
He opened back up to the passage. “I’ve only guessed at what I’ve said, really. The incidents in the passages you picked were but one possibility I was entertaining; my prostrate squeaking was genuine dumbfounded-ness. There is a story untold here, I imagine?”
“Yes,” she said, as if suddenly tired, her eyes turning inward. “As old as the bones of Terra.”