A Fated Meeting

[Laurie]

ellatole_greyseerer: -Agitation forced a breath from Ellatole's lungs as his feet beat out the steady cadence of his pace. He walked silently, glancing momentarily towards the moon, an eyebrow raising slowly as he continued forward. He remained slightly troubled by a recent vision he had had, still unable to comprehend the significance of it. A large white creature, humanoid in shape and form, though with the ears of a rabbit, had put on clothes and gotten in a flying device. Grotesque exaggerations of children with large heads had been playing a game of some sort, and they held a bowl of multi-colored rocks in various shapes. The 'rabbit' had taken the flying object and bombarded the children, sweeping down to attempt to grab their rocks, though at the last moment, the rabbit crashed, and missed the bowl
ellatole_greyseerer: The children then spoke to him. Something about children playing tricks….He glanced towards the moon once more, coming to a dead stop. Patiently, he waited where he stood, saying nothing. He was near now, and the path had but one fork left.-


celene_greyseerer: Celene emerged from her bath slowly, reddish hair hanging in threads down her bare back. It was odd, really. Bathing without the huge bulk of her wings to wash, to dry. She dried and dressed, wearing things that she would never have been able to wear the hinderance of wings. The hinderance of them. Celene pursed her lips as she wrapped a towel about her head, catching all of her long red hair up within it. A bit of blood colored the towel from her back, though she hadn't noticed. She knew it would never properly heal. The price she had to pay for knowledge. She stood for a moment by the window, her hands flat upon the sill as she eyed the grass beneath. She had a sudden compulsive need to lay within the damp grass, to walk barefoot through it.
celene_greyseerer: Her head tilted as she turned and stalked across the room and through the quiet halls. It was quiet, though the echos of the turmoil that had just ended still ran rampant. She had to walk. How inconvenient. She made it though, maroon beginning to pepper the back of her white long sleeved shirt as her feet touched the grass.


ellatole_greyseerer: -He waited silently where he stood, an eyebrow drifting up into a slight arch, before flattening out once more. The observer watched quietly, as The Prophet waited. The warrior was agitated. The other remained silent. Unseen and forgotten. At long last, The Observer spoke up. "Perhaps it is to tell you that children are not to be trusted. Perhaps children bait people, and quickly snatch away hope. You may be the rabbit," he mused to The Prophet, "And perhaps it was a warning that you should not trust the children of your family." He thought about this for a moment, and The Prophet responded, "No, it would not be that, for I would hardly liken myself to a rabbit, and nor would The Goddess. These were normal human children, and there was nothing spectacular about them,
ellatole_greyseerer: save for the rocks. Whatever it meant, it hinges on the rocks, because that was the focus. It is the significance of the rocks that eludes me, and from there we will discover the rest." He hesitated, then spoke to The Warrior. "Patience. She is coming."-


celene_greyseerer: Celene walked through the large yard. Soon, the dew had dappened her feet. The dew sparkled within her wet hair as she let the towel fall from her head to the ground beneath. She stopped before the Grove, eyes running across the tops of the trees, the leaves that waved in the slight wind. Soon. Yes, very soon. Red hair cascaded across her back as she shook her head, the heavy locks bumping the stitches that ran down her back in two stripes, the stitches that replaced the large white wings she had inherited from her mother. She stuck one hand in her pocket, the other grasping the bag that always hung at her side. It chafed against her back, wrasped against the stitches and sent a little burgeoning of red upon her shirt but she didn't seem to notice.
celene_greyseerer: The book whispered things to her as she walked as always. Honeyed whispers of the many things she could accomplish with her new found knowledge.


ellatole_greyseerer: -He stood in stony silence for the duration of many more moments, his arms rising to cross over his chest, his fingers drumming out the soft beat of waning patience. How much longer could he afford to wait for her? It was as though on cue he could hear footsteps in the distance. She was very close now. Very close. Agitation returned, though he suppressed it. His gaze shifted towards the direction of the noise, and he took a step closer. Or rather, he began to, before changing his mind, and taking great care to meticulously return his foot to the exact location it had been only moments before. He could not wait any longer. "You are late, wingless angel with a book that speaks. Come and meet me and delay me yet further in my travels. It has been seen already and accounted for.
ellatole_greyseerer: Your tardiness, however, is upsetting." He waited now, sure that she had heard him, his voice loud enough in the near-complete silence of the night's road. He said nothing, only waited, unmoving, and waiting for her approach. He could not deal with further delay. He did not wish to be late. (It was, after all, a very important date.)-


celene_greyseerer: Celene hadn't expected anyone about. She looked up and narrowed her eyes, the emerald green barely peeking through the black of her lashes. Had she seen him somewhere? It seemed she had, though she had been too deep within her feverish haze to remember. She was much better now, though the fever still clung to her. She was late? Late for a meeting with him? Who the hell was he, anyway? The book went silent for a long moment. She supposed he was a surprise to it, too and she smiled. She liked that he surprised the book. She played along with him, a smile twitching upward over her thin lips. "I'm terribly sorry. The bath was too tempting and Faith promised me a horrible death if I did not remove the stench from me."
celene_greyseerer: She walked toward him, not afraid to misalign the grass as he looked to. Or perhaps he was merely like that. Perfect, exacting.


ellatole_greyseerer: -He waited for a count of ten, waiting for her to come into sight, in the stead of the simple noise that had defined her presence. Yes, he had been standing exactly where he should have been standing when he met her, and now he would see how things would develop. Quietly, he stepped forward, closing the distance between the two of them. "Yes, you are here to meet me, for if you were not here to meet me, you would not be here, and I would be elsewhere, therefore there remains only one explanation, and that is that you are here to meet me. Or to be met by me, I am unsure. But you are late. You should have arrived nearly a minute ago, and the timing must be exact. I shall have to walk faster, as a result," His voice carried no emotion, and left no room for debate, the words spoken in
ellatole_greyseerer: the staunch matter-of-fact method that fanaticism could incur. He watched her, his purple eyes burning with his fervor, a sigh finally crossing his lips. "Well. Introduce yourself."-


celene_greyseerer: She looked at him oddly, her eyes narrowing as her fingers tightened upon the book within the satchel. He had a prophetic sort of way of talking. It made her uneasy. Celene didn't much believe in prophecy. Your life was your life, whatever you made of it. For a moment though, she doubted the compulsion she had had to take a walk out onto the lawn. "I am Celene GreySeerer." Celene was a woman of science, of facts, of things she could see and hear and taste and touch. "And you are...?" She leaned forward slightly, strands of her wet hair slipping forward over her shoulder. She almost staggered forward with the absence of her wings to hold her back. She kept her feet though and somehow her coordination. If there was a purpose to this, as he intimated, then what was it exactly?
celene_greyseerer: Her book began to whisper again, asking mostly question, prodding her in a slightly less than honeyed tone of voice.

[Laurie]

ellatole_greyseerer: -He nodded his head slowly, recalling her, now as the foolish angel who had removed her own wings. Yes, he had been intended to meet her, he mused, for there was truly no other explanation. She spoke, and he nodded his agreement to her introduction. Then he was stymied for a moment. Her choice of words had been an odd one, though he attempted to make the most sense he could from it. "Indeed. I am." He remained silent for a moment, before finally breaking to speak. "I am Ellatole GreySeerer of the GreySeerer family, which you may have heard of." He watched her for another moment, waiting for her to speak, his own words dying as he concluded their formation. His eyes read anticipation as he waited for her to speak again. He had been told that he would meet her, though he knew not
ellatole_greyseerer: why, and assumed that she would reveal the reason to him.-


celene_greyseerer: Celene's brows twitched as the book continued it's barrage of questions. Her hand slipped from the satchel and she folded her arms beneath her breasts. Ellatole. She had mostly been away from the family affairs for a long while, here and there and back again for only short moments when a certain book was within the library that she needed. She gave no intimation that she knew who he was though whether she had or not, might be guessed. She smiled though and leaned back, her fingers wriggling within the dewy grass. The moon sparkled within her hair and she shook it again, water from her hair joining the dew upon the grass. "Ah yes, I've heard of the GreySeerer family, certainly. Though I haven't had the occasion to meet you officially."
celene_greyseerer: She stretched upward, the white pants lifting from their annoying slithering against the tops of her feet as she walked. "Where is it exactly that you're going to have to walk faster...to?"

[Forgotten]

Ellatole watched her silently for the span of many moments, his gaze both critical and approving. He stood in his exact location, impatience bringing tension to the features of his visage. It seemed a foolish question, one that did not require an answer, though if any angel was foolish enough to remove her own wings, it only made sense that she would ask foolish questions. "I am on my way to the grove, Wingless Angel." It was no insult, not as it rolled off of his tongue, but rather the name that he had selected for her. It was as she had been revealed to him, and it was what he had known her by before she had assigned to herself a different name. She was Celene GreySeerer, and part of his family, which now she chose to attempt to conceal from him, though he payed this little mind. It had been a small oversight that he had ignored the name she believed to be hers, and his mind's jumps had led back to her name. His shoulders rose and fell in a shrug as his gaze traced her movements. Calm and steady. His eyes looked hollow, his features a blank and emotionless mask, though deep within the violet iris of his eyes, a fire proclaimed vast intelligence and fervor. He was both perceptive and oblivious at once, a walking paradox. He lived in dual worlds, both very real, both very important. His meeting with this woman was an odd one, and he had interest in meeting this talking book. Perhaps the book sought a prophet, and the Wingless Angel had been too weak to fully comprehend the book's capabilities, nor had she been able to handle it.

For that matter, however, it was highly likely that The Prophet himself was not prepared to accept ownership of the book she carried. Let it be, he mused, his gaze still trailing the woman, his lips utterly motionless. She could keep the book as long as she could handle it, and if it was fated to come to him, he would accept it when he was ready. He did know, however, that on this day the prophecies had not bestowed upon him the book. We should observe her, however,, interjected the Watcher, speaking to The Prophet's mind, We will see what the book does to the bearer, and we will prepare for the day she has had enough of it, that we know what to expect. The Prophet gave these words thought, before The Warrior spoke, No, we should take it from her now, while she is so close. She is not ready, and she is weak. There will be no better opportunity than this before you. Let us take it, and I will endure the trials it puts us through, for I alone am the only one strong enough to bear it. The Other simply watched, silent and forgotten, her opinion kept to herself. At last The Prophet spoke to no one visible. "It has not yet been prophecied."