[Introduction] He Who Dwells Upon the Mountain, Guardian of Hearts,

[death_dawg]

The police had called in a pick-up late that evening: a would-be storm-chaser taking a video camera out to film the thunderstorm that had hit the area, who'd gotten himself struck by lightning

Comments

[pandora_antioch]

Much later at night, there will be a vampire in the library. Pandora is working on a translation of the Res Publica, from Latin, to Quenya - something she'd like to give Celebrimbor as a wedding present.

She's thoughtful, though, and frowning as she works, mostly because of that conversation she's had with Light. But maybe she can feel... something. Something on the rise. Much has gone on, of late - a vampire attack, Saetan's disappearance... and she has a feeling of foreboding which she can't place.

But of course, that doesn't mean that Anubis himself can't find her, on the contrary.

Wasn't she dedicated to Isis, once?

[death_dawg]

He's sniffing about the house and he's found his way to the library. This is more Ibis's domain than his, but he's not above finding a good book to read. Perhaps he will find some of Ibis's books here.

Which is when he spies the young woman at work, a young woman with a most peculiar scent. Some of it makes him think of Isis, who spread her wings many years ago. But the rest is...different.

"Don't let me disturb you, though I was looking for something to read," he says.

[pandora_antioch]

Pandora can feel something different about this one. He is ancient, maybe more so than Akasha and Enkil, even. She raises her eyes from her book, slowly.

Egyptian. She can tell by the looks of him, by his gait, by his smell, by everything in this man.

Immortal. In the way he moves, the way he is dressed, his easy confidence in a strange and new place.

Interesting.

"I believe you just did," she replies, simply. "As long as I am no longer writing, were you looking for something in particular?"

[death_dawg]

He's likely at least as old as the earliest Pharaohs, though death is at least as old as the universe itself. How long he's inhabited this particular body is anyone's guess (possibly at least since the date of the one fully human image of his inner self -- Do gods take their forms from human ideas, or do they inspire humans to shape certain images of them?).

"I was looking for several volumes that might look like nineteenth century ledgers? The contents are handwritten in a very neat hand, the kind that used to be called copperplate," he says.

[pandora_antioch]

"That is quite a generic description," Pandora says patiently. "This is by far one of the best stocked libraries I've ever been to - I assume you might come across quite a few volumes which fit this description, Mr....?"

[death_dawg]

"Call me Jacquel," he replies. "But the books I speak of...they might, at first glance seem to be collections of folktales or myths, told from the view of the folk who crossed paths with the gods they believed in."

[pandora_antioch]

Interesting - and not something Pandora has given much thought to, this past century.

That makes her mind go back to Antioch, to her dedication to Isis, to the whispering dreams.

To Akasha and Enkil. Those Who Must Be Kept.

"I'm afraid it is not a section I am familiar with," she apologizes politely. "But perhaps if you were to look in the theology section..."

[death_dawg]

"Good place to start, though I wouldn't fault the librarian if they filed it away with the fantasy or the folklore," he says, glancing at the stacks. "The place I came from wasn't the best place for gods: they'd lost sight of what they were supposed to do, or the folk that believed in them lost sight of them and wandered off to strange gods."

[pandora_antioch]

"Times have changed," Pandora says slowly. "There was a time when gods were powerful and their followers honored them with blood, dance, worship and dedication."

There is, very definitely a message in the way she speaks.

[death_dawg]

"You speak as though you remember those days," he observes. "Used to be that the priests would put on the mask of the jackal as they offered the prayers of the dead during the embalming process. Now, the dead are preserved to benefit the living, instead of helping keep the body intact so the soul could find it easily."

[pandora_antioch]

Oh, she remembers them indeed - though she was not in Egypt at the time. "Followers of the Mother were drenched in blood as a rite of passage," Pandora says, thinking quietly. "But there was no-one to see - in the old rites, or the new."

Once, she believed that Akasha was Isis made flesh. She knows better now.

[death_dawg]

"You were one of the daughters of Isis, in a later time?" he says, half an observation, half a question. "She took you beneath her wings?"

[pandora_antioch]

Pandora nods, she's not.. so surprised. "I was dedicated in Antioch," she says slowly.

"It was a long time ago."

[death_dawg]

"But not so long as I can remember," he says. "You are young compared to some." It's not a judgment, merely an assessment.

[pandora_antioch]

And you are not undead, Pandora doesn't say.

"Who are you, my lord?" Her tone is uncharacteristically respectful.

[death_dawg]

"I am He Who Dwells on the Mountain, the Guardian of Hearts and Keeper of the Divine Booth. I am the Foremost Among the Westerners," he says, reciting his names quietly. "You might know me as Hermanubis: they called me that in your time...."