paixaorpg | Too many creations [Active]

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Too many creations [Active]

Character(s): Duma, anyone
Content: An Angel appers, lost, confused and depressed.
Setting: Muspelheim Gate
Time: Midday, week 27
Warnings: None

Duma was lost. He had come through the gate that had been created in every plane by Lucifer, but he had not ended up where he expected to be. He had not ended up anywhere he recognised at all.
Duma had followed Lucifer through the gate... He had followed Lucifer. Duma let his head drop. He may have been millenia too late, but he was finally fallen. Although, maybe fallen wasn't the right word. Stepped back was a better word, stepped back and let Remiel do what he had wanted all along, to be ruler of Hell, to redeem lost souls though punishment and pain.
Duma had grown his flowers and not spoken to Remiel and sided with Lucifer and left.

Now he did not know where he was. He fancied that he might be in Lucifer's creation, in which case he had a feeling he would die rather quickly. But were that the case, where was the Lightbringer himself? The building in front of him reminded Duma of the tales he had heard of Faerie. And the Gates reminded him both of Hell, and of Heaven. The flames belonged to Hell, but the golden colour brought back images of the Silver City, of silence and contemplation, of kneeling with Raphael and learning about pain and healing and making things grow.
A sad smile flickered to Duma's face.

He decided to walk to the gate, almost ready to try the Hell-Key in the lock, before it became obvious to him it wouldn't fit.
A man behind the counter asked him his name, and merely sighed when Duma didn't answer. Instead he handed the angel a journal and waved him through. Duma took the strange device. 'Perhaps' the thought 'This is another kind of key.'

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It was odd for Yorda to wander the city these days, so afraid was she of being found by Urd, but she had felt cooped up in the hospital and had decided to go for a walk. If she saw Urd, Genie or Belldandy, she would simply run away and hide until the danger passed. But lost in thought as the princess was, there was no missing the strange being over at the gate. She drew near to him, curious and cautious, looking at him silently for the moment.

He had birds' wings, and that only made the girl even more curious.

Duma investigated the key he had been given, but save opening and closing it, he could not understand how to make it work. He had not been on the earth plane, but the voices of souls of the damned had spoken about things like this. He had tried not to listen to them.

Open, close. Open. Close.

He might have continued like this for a long time, had he not become aware he was being watched. He looked up to see an elfin girl, much like the Fae who had come as representatives to the Silver City. He gave her a tentative smile.

Yorda drew closer at the strange being's smile and smiled brightly back, relieved that he didn't seem to want to harm her. She looked curiously at his journal, remembering how she hadn't known what to do with it when she came - perhaps that was what the stranger was trying to figure out. "Who are you?" she asked, stepping quite near to him (though not too close; thankfully, Yorda had learned something about personal space during her time here). "What are you doing?"

Duma flapped his wings, looking concerned. He did not speak. He was duty bound to never speak, but without Remiel to speak for him, how would he communicate? He could send his thoughts, but he felt that was almost a kind of cheating, and it took so much energy. Still, they would know how to get back. Where the gate was. What this place was.

He opened the key to the girl, and showed it to her, making his confusion plain on his face.

Yorda stepped closer to look at the journal and nodded. At first, she hadn't known how to use it, either; she'd merely thought it was a pretty thing - useless, but pretty nonetheless. She opened her own journal and showed him how to use it, demonstrating how to type with it. "It is a journal," she explained to him. "It is used to communicate with the people who have been brought here." She smiled at him, glad she could help someone; usually, it was she who ended up being helped, not the other way around.

Duma looked on as it was demonstrated how to use the key, though he was slightly disappointed it wasn't actually a key to unlock a door. Looking at the journal, he thought of what he could use it for, but he worried.
Biting his lip, he typed in DOES IT MAKE NOISE? then I AM DUMA, ANGEL OF YAHWEH

Without pressing the enter key he showed it to the elf girl, blinking at her.

Yorda read the angel's message. "It can make noise," she replied. "People speak through it sometimes, and sound comes out." She used voice posts more often than not, these days, especially since she didn't slip into her native tongue very much anymore. She smiled at him. "It is nice to meet you, Duma. I am Yorda." She pondered the other words for a moment, her brow creasing in confusion. "What is an angel? And what is Yahweh?" She didn't recognize any of those words.

Fastidiously hitting the backspace key, Duma struggled. He had never explained what, or who. It simply was. Eventually he typed in another message, though it took him a long time.

I AM AN ANGEL. I AM THE CUSTODIAN OF SILENCE. I MAY NOT MAKE NOISE. YAHWEH HAS GIVEN ME SILENCE. YAHWEH IS THE LORD.

Duma felt a certain level of distress having to explain this, as it meant he was indeed in a creation not his own, that the gate had led him somewhere he did not want to go and that he was alone here.

Yorda waited, silent and patient while Duma typed his message. She read it once he handed the journal back, her nose wrinkling at all the things she did not know. It frustrated her, sometimes, to realize how very little she knew, even after all the learning she'd done after coming here. "What is a custodian?" she asked, somewhat shyly as she knew that not everybody appreciated being asked question after question. "And what is a lord?" She handed the journal back, looking at him expectantly.

Duma's eyes washed with tears, as he knew he must hae offended Yahweh greatly, to be sent away to a place where they did not know him, where he could not be in the love of the Name anymore.

CUSTODIAN MEANS KEEPER OR GUARD. THAT IS ALL I SHOULD TELL.

He handed the journal back, not looking at Yorda

Yorda looked at Duma, shocked. Why was he so sad? The princess stepped closer to him, distressed. Had she been the cause of his sorrow? "Please do not be sad," she begged him, tears filling her own eyes as she tenderly brushed Duma's tears away. "I am sorry. I do not know very much." She read the journal, nodding, and handed it back. "I lived away from the outside world until I came here, and my mother did not explain very much to me." She felt terrible, explaining it in such a manner, but her mother had stressed that her only purpose was to serve as her vessel - why would she need to learn, if she was only going to be subsumed?

Duma allowed his tears to run their course, not knowing any shame in them, and he mimicked Yorda's action and brought one hand up to wipe away her tears.

Eventually he typed into his journal - I MADE A DECISION THAT HAS LEFT ME HERE. I AM LOST AND FALLEN. THAT CAUSES ME SADNESS. NOT YOU.

Duma remembered Remiel's fury, and he shut his eyes to the memory. It was not the words he had used, to send Duma away, it was the silence in his eyes, the bitterness.

ARE YOU A FAERIE?

Yorda held Duma's hand as it brushed against her face, grateful for the comfort, and continued to wipe his tears away until they were finished. She read the words once again and decided not to ask what his decision was. Her time here had not only taught her when not to ask questions, but which ones to avoid altogether. She looked back up at him, giving the journal back once again, and blinked up at him. "I am a shadow," she told him. "What is a faerie?"

Duma allowed himself a sad smile, although he was pleased he would not have to humiliate himself further in front of Queen Titania, he became more aware that he was not in any creation he knew of. It pained him, but still, he knew other Angels who had gone missing - Perhaps they were here.

A FAERIE IS DIFFERENT. WHAT IS A SHADOW?

Yorda tilted her head to one side as she absorbed the information. "Then perhaps I am a faerie," she told her strange companion, "for I am different from everyone else I have met." She lowered her eyes for a moment, not liking to show her shadow self to anyone - but she had shown it to Neirenn once; surely this would be alright. The princess closed her eyes and allowed her form to shift. Slowly, the light she emitted drew back into her body as inky particles drifted off of her as her form was consumed in darkness.

"This is what I am," she explained, her voice having taken on an odd, echoing quality.

Duma looked on with a calm look on his face, unworried by the change in Yorda. True, it was unlike anything he had seen, but it did not look demonic. He had seen beings made up of the dark, but none that could be made up of dark and light at the same time, at least not physically.

Duma nodded. He thought that her form was pretty, but he did not touch it, fearing the darkness.

Yorda, still in her shadow form, took his hand, relieved by the utter lack of fear in his expression. "Do not worry," she told him. "I will not hurt you." She wasn't her mother, and she certainly wasn't like the mindless shadows who had attempted to abduct her repeatedly in the castle (at least, once the boy had let her out of her cage). She smiled at Duma, although he couldn't see it, pleased that she seemed to have found a new friend.

Duma sighed and smiled, knowing that she probably couldn't hurt him anyway. Although, this far away from the Silver City... Well he would have to conduct certain experiments when he knew he was alone.
He typed another message to show her, becoming more adept with the keyboard.

I AM NOT WORRIED. DO YOU PREFER THE DARK OR THE LIGHT?

Reassured at his message, Yorda allowed the darkness to drift away from her and changed back to her normal form. She didn't like turning into that if she didn't have to, but so far, it didn't seem to be bad. Maybe there really was nothing to fear from turning into shadow. "I like the light better," she told him, "but I do not think the darkness is always bad." She wasn't bad, after all - at least, she didn't think so. Maybe others would think differently, but she had yet to encounter someone who did.

Duma was relieved. He too, preferred the light, although recently he was distressed and confused as to where the light was coming from. He remembered the Lightbringer before he fell, and now, afterward.

Duma began to look around and notice the domes and facades of the city. he felt strange, the way the roofs blocked the lights, there was no sky to fly into, no sun to see or not to see. Again he began to type.

NO, IT IS NOT ALWAYS BAD. I AM LEARNING THAT. WHAT IS THIS PLACE? WHERE ARE THE GARDENS?

That was a complicated question. "I do not know what this place is," came the answer. "It is called Paixao. Many people are drawn here, from many worlds." Yorda looked up at him, a little confused. "There is a park," she told Duma, showing him the map function on his journal and pointing out the Jogo da Crianca. "It is there, but the plants here are strange." Odd, metal trees with jeweled leaves and flowers, none of which grew. She knew that outside of the city, things grew, but for one reason or another, there were no natural plants within the city.

Many worlds. Many creations. More creations that had been dreamed of by everyone except the Endless. Creations that Lucifer could have gone to instead of starting up his own. Maybe if he had come here Amenadiel would still be alive and Duma would still be with Remiel.

Duma knew better than to ask the way out. He knew that if there was such a way, people would have left. He would wait until Yaweh summoned him back.

IS IT POSSIBLE THAT I COULD GROW MY FLOWERS? IS THERE SUCH A SPACE FOR THAT?

"I do not know if there is anything in here, but at least there is room outside of the city to grow your flowers," came the reply as Yorda pointed to the gate. "The guards may complain, but they will not stop you." Really, they didn't seem to mind that much, slight scolding aside. Yorda had been afraid at first, but she had learned to ignore them. "But I have seen nothing grow here." She hadn't seen anything like that, at least. "Maybe it is because no one has planted anything," she continued, looking thoughtful.

Duma looked peaceful at the statement that the only reason was no one else had tried. He knew how to make things grow, plants were silent and so he was kin with them. He would find seeds, and tend them, he would grow flowers to fight the loneliness that was blossoming inside of him.

He did not know anything about the city, but he assumed Yorda would. She reminded him of the funny fallen cherubs, innocent yet with enough knowlege about the working of the place they were in.

Duma offered her his hand, inclining his head to indicate that she might walk with him.

At the nod, Yorda felt better, much better. It had distressed her greatly when he had cried, and she did not want to leave him alone, especially with the obvious loneliness the angel seemed to carry about himself like a shroud. She gladly took his hand and nodded back, accepting the silent offer. Yorda knew nothing about growing plants, though she had delighted in the grass that grew on the island, and had loved the feeling of it beneath her, tickling her feet. Maybe Duma would allow her to learn from him, and help - she did so want to be useful, especially since everyone she had met had been so kind to her.

Duma began to walk southwest through the city, hoping not to get lost, but if he was at all anxious about being in unfamiliar territory he didn't show it. He surveyed the people of Paixao with long glances, noting that they looked much like wingless angels. With one hand holding Yorda's and one holding the journal-key, Duma was unable to touch any of the facades. So after briefly considering where about his person he might actually be able to store it, he put it down on the ground and walked on, stopping a few yards on to examine a clump of jeweled flowers.

Yorda wandered with Duma, perfectly content to let him lead. She lifted her face to the dome and smiled - even if there wasn't real sunlight in here, it was still nice. She picked up his journal when he set it down, carrying it with her own, and observed as he looked at the flowers. As much as she liked looking at them, she couldn't help but think real plants were much prettier than the false ones "growing" about the city.

Duma's face fell as he realised the flowers were imitations. He touched them a few times before returning to Yorda and extending a hand to take the journal-key back. It was difficult to store but no doubt he was given it for a reason.

After that, Duma stood and looked upwards, seemingly completely at a loss as to what to do or where to go.

Yorda gave the journal back and tugged gently on his hand, leading him towards. She didn't want to leave him alone, especially considering how sad he seemed, and maybe Mao would allow him to stay. Even if he didn't, Duma could at least remain in the hospital for a little while; it was a large building, and surely there was enough room. Besides, she had to help him. He was alone and clearly distressed about it, and even though she was off her island now, she still remembered how terrible the loneliness had been.

Duma obediently followed Yorda as she lead him, not fighting what seemed to be the worst punishment he was to suffer - Being alone in a place that did not grow things. Even when he had been in Hell he had not been alone, and Hell grew a vast amount of flora and fauna. True, aside from his own plants none of the flora or fauna was what one might call 'pleasant', rather it was usually closer to 'hideously deformed and may cause you intense suffering' but it was real, not an imitation of real things.

He squeezed Yorda's hand, but did not smile.

The hospital, where Yorda had been staying with Mao, was a few miles away, and while Yorda wouldn't have minded the walk at all, she didn't know if Duma was tired or not. Perhaps it was best to err on the side of caution. She led him to the train station and smiled at him as she handed some of the jeweled leaves over in order to pay for tickets. If he was indeed tired, he could get some rest on the way.

[ooc: Sorry, RL exploded a bit in the last couple of days.]

Duma looked intesnsely confused at the rattly old train that came into view. It immediately reminded him of the machines he'd seen harvesting pain in Hell, so immediately he braced himself for some kind of horrible experience. He hunched his wings around him as he stepped on, not taking much notice of the currency that Yorda had used.

When it turned out that the train did not have any malicious intentions, nor was it crushingly painful to ride, Duma relaxed slightly and tried to sit down on a human bench without getting his wings in the way. It was awkward, but he managed it.

Now where was he going?

[OOC: No problems, Christmastime tends to do that.]

Yorda squeezed the angel's hand reassuringly as they got on. Why was he afraid of the train? It made odd noises, but it was harmless. She looked up at him, worrying until she saw him relax and sat down next to him. "Are you alright?" she asked him, still concerned for his well-being. She wasn't about to leave him alone in this strange place, especially considering the strange dread still gnawing at the pit of her own stomach. She lowered her head and closed her eyes to rest a bit before they reached their destination.

As Yorda closed her eyes, and the train continued not to cause Duma excruciating pain, he gently moved closer to her and, awkwardly stretched out one wing to shield Yorda with. The pinfeathers caucght on the seat and he winced a little, but Duma soon settled, save for a hint of worry that Yorda could fall asleep and Duma would not know how to get her home.

Although the princess rested, she didn't fall asleep, and once she realized they were nearly at their destination she stood and smiled at Duma, taking his hand in order to lead him off the train and to the hospital. Truth be told, she worried a little about Mao's reaction; she didn't know if he considered the hospital his domain - but surely, with so much room, there was room. And if not, Yorda could take Duma somewhere else, hopefully where he would be safe.

[ooc: Woo-hoo! No more holiday rush! \o/]

Duma by now was thoroughly confused. Although happy to let Yorda lead him wherever she wanted to end up, he was utterly lost in this new place, and did not have any reference from the air to help him understand it. Trains, winding alleys and no sun to mark the directions meant his head spun with The places she could be taking him. Being lost was a new sensation, and certainly not one he enjoyed.

"I will take you to a place where you can stay," Yorda told him as she continued to lead. The hospital, ominous as it looked, was peaceful on the inside. The princess hadn't been troubled there - which was what she had feared, at first. She didn't know if anyone else was there at the moment, but at the least she knew they would return later. She turned to her companion once they were in the lobby and smiled, gesturing to indicate that they had reached their destination.

Duma looked around, not at all worried by it's ominous appearance, he was used to buildings that were both old, and large.
Duma picked up his journal once more, and began to type a message WHAT IS THIS PLACE CALLED?

"This place is St. Destino Hospital," came the reply. "I am staying here with Mao." Yorda smiled at him. "There is plenty of room here." She stepped further into the building, looking for any sign of Mao. Seeing none, she frowned a little. "I do not think he is here right now." She brushed his lack of presence off, however; it was unlikely Urd would find her here. And if she did, Yorda would run and hide; even as afraid as she was of her right now, she didn't want to use violence.

A hospital. That was good. Duma had talent at healing, nothing like the Archangel he'd learned it from, of course, but enough to make a difference. He didn't recognise the Saint named though - Destino, perhaps it was one of the disciples of Gabriel.

Duma noticed Yorda was uneasy at being alone, he tried to communicate that he was here, and he could protect her from anything bad that might try and hurt her. He squeezed her hand again.

Noticing Duma's worry about her, Yorda smiled and returned the squeeze. "I am alright," she informed him, turning to lead him through the halls. She would simply have to place him in a room adjacent to hers for the time being; surely someone was bound to drop by sooner or later, and she wanted to have the angel settled and comfortable, especially given how distressed he had been earlier. Given rest and time, the adjustment to his new, strange situation could be made easier.

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Too many creations [Active]

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Oops, hey, we're learning

<3

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Okay, Im still really failing at this... srrysrrysrry :S

No problem, it happens!

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