[Cita/Mike] - get thee hence
Who:
Cita
Michaela
When: Saturday, September 3rd, after this
Where: The Citadel
Rating & Warnings: PG, Mike is angry and Cita is vengeful
Demoted =(
It was with a heavy heart that Cita flagged down an Initiate and asked him to bring Cancellarius Michaela to him. The boy had nodded with wide-eyes and a flushed face, then nearly tripped on his oversized robes as he hurried off. Leaning against the doorway, the sight brought Cita some ounce of comfort, a tiny, affectionate smile playing on his lips, but it soon dropped back into a thoughtful frown. The reason for Michaela's summon was nothing to celebrate. He feared that she would be walking out of these halls in the same manner Avith had done not an hour ago. He knew, of course, that she would, and yet he couldn't help but hope that she would understand and embrace him with new-found faith.
He returned to the inside of his room and sat at the window, resuming his position as he'd been when Avith had arrived, and waited.
Oh, summoned by "Cita." Mike was not pleased. She had a feeling she knew what this was going to be about; it was no secret she was unhappy with the situation at the Citadel. Anybody could tell by the way she looked at him, the way she--the loudest of the Cancellari--sat silently in their council meetings.
When he summoned her, she summoned her anger. Soon after he had sent the initiate out to find her, she stormed into his room. "You called for me?" she asked, making no attempt to hide her feelings, as she stepped through the door she'd thrown open.
There was a myriad of feelings driving her. She didn't want to sit through any lecture this false god would give. She didn't want to listen to him explain why Isvelle had been killed, or hear him say anything about Isvelle at all. She didn't want to hear him tell her that she wasn't faithful because she didn't buy his lies. This conversation could go nowhere good with her starting off in the place she did.
The door slammed against the wall with a bang, but he didn't flinch. Her anger was remarkable -- he could feel it storming through the halls before she'd entered the room. Now that she was in close proximity to him, he could feel the stubbornness and loathing in her heart.
Unfortunate.
"You were chosen for your exceptional faith and ability to protect," he said, turning his neck to look straight at her. "The latter remains. Where has the first gone?"
"My faith?" Her eyebrows rose, fire in her tone. "You want to know where my faith went? It's right fucking here." She tapped her heart with her whole hand. "My faith in Cita has never wavered. But you--" she jabbed a finger at him, "--are not Cita."
There was nothing additional he may have gained by probing her thoughts; Mike spoke her mind, and right now she held none of it back.
She spoke what she believed to be the truth-- he could sense as much without any shred of doubt. It was incredibly frustrating to be told by those who called themselves believers that their faith had not gone askew. It was as plain as day that they had misplaced it and yet they adamantly refused to accept this simple fact. Their denial was mind-boggling, and his inability to comprehend how they could possibly be so blind showed in the disapproving frown on his lips.
There was nothing he would do for it. If she did not want to believe in him, then so be it. He would never force anyone -- they had their choices to make.
"Remove your robe, Michaela. You are unworthy of your title."
That was it, then? Being stripped of her Cancellarius title by something that only had authority because the rest of the Civitates were too blinded by their need to be right to realize the truth? Fine. So be it.
"Fine by me." She tore off her Cancellarius cloak, balled it up, and flung it to his feet. "I want nothing to do with you, and nothing to do with a congregation too blind to realize the hypocrisy in killing Others while holding one up as their god."
His eyes flashed angrily, and in that second the wall struck out like living liquid to deliver a blow to the side of Mike's face.
"Your arrogance is shameful, Michaela," he said, blue eyes narrowed icily. His tone was no longer gently disappointed, but cold, firm and dangerous. "I will accept your choice to fall away, but I will not tolerate a blatant disregard for who I am in my own house."
Disgusting. That such a person would dare to consider herself a Cancellarius and insult the god she was supposed to serve with the same tongue -- the gall of humans would never cease to amaze him. Again, he wondered if he had been mistaken in thinking they were ready for his arrival.
Perhaps he was here to straighten them out once and for all.
Others and unbelievers alike had to be purged from his midst.
Still, as he inhaled deeply, allowing the ire Mike had summoned in him to dissipate with his breath, Cita knew that he was a merciful god. The Citadel swam lazily to his feet and remained there, a warning to Mike that it would be best to do as he said. "Leave now, and your impudence will be overlooked."
Mike had been well-known during her time in the Guard for her ability to take a punch. It depended on two things: knowing the hit was coming, and it being delivered by nothing harder than flesh and bone. The wall lashed out so suddenly, struck her so forcefully, that it knocked her to the ground.
She lay sprawled there for a moment, trying to collect her wits through the blackness that danced across her vision. She stared up at him, stunned.
If anything, she thought, it was proof that he wasn't the Cita the Epistles told of. Where was his gentleness, his kindness, his forgiveness? Where was his mercy? This was not the benevolent god of the Epistles. This was the angry, vengeful god of the doomsayers.
He only felt anger for being called an Other because it was a truth he refused to acknowledge.
She shoved herself to her feet, slowly but surely picking herself up from the floor. She rubbed the back of her hand below her lip, rubbing away a trickle of blood from a cut the sudden blow had opened up when the inside of her cheek met her teeth.
There was plenty she wanted to say, a thousand parting blows to throw back, but she was wise enough to know that this Other would not let her get up the second time. Without another word, or any further acknowledgement, she turned and strode out of the room, and out of the Citadel.
Cita
Michaela
When: Saturday, September 3rd, after this
Where: The Citadel
Rating & Warnings: PG, Mike is angry and Cita is vengeful
Demoted =(
It was with a heavy heart that Cita flagged down an Initiate and asked him to bring Cancellarius Michaela to him. The boy had nodded with wide-eyes and a flushed face, then nearly tripped on his oversized robes as he hurried off. Leaning against the doorway, the sight brought Cita some ounce of comfort, a tiny, affectionate smile playing on his lips, but it soon dropped back into a thoughtful frown. The reason for Michaela's summon was nothing to celebrate. He feared that she would be walking out of these halls in the same manner Avith had done not an hour ago. He knew, of course, that she would, and yet he couldn't help but hope that she would understand and embrace him with new-found faith.
He returned to the inside of his room and sat at the window, resuming his position as he'd been when Avith had arrived, and waited.
Oh, summoned by "Cita." Mike was not pleased. She had a feeling she knew what this was going to be about; it was no secret she was unhappy with the situation at the Citadel. Anybody could tell by the way she looked at him, the way she--the loudest of the Cancellari--sat silently in their council meetings.
When he summoned her, she summoned her anger. Soon after he had sent the initiate out to find her, she stormed into his room. "You called for me?" she asked, making no attempt to hide her feelings, as she stepped through the door she'd thrown open.
There was a myriad of feelings driving her. She didn't want to sit through any lecture this false god would give. She didn't want to listen to him explain why Isvelle had been killed, or hear him say anything about Isvelle at all. She didn't want to hear him tell her that she wasn't faithful because she didn't buy his lies. This conversation could go nowhere good with her starting off in the place she did.
The door slammed against the wall with a bang, but he didn't flinch. Her anger was remarkable -- he could feel it storming through the halls before she'd entered the room. Now that she was in close proximity to him, he could feel the stubbornness and loathing in her heart.
Unfortunate.
"You were chosen for your exceptional faith and ability to protect," he said, turning his neck to look straight at her. "The latter remains. Where has the first gone?"
"My faith?" Her eyebrows rose, fire in her tone. "You want to know where my faith went? It's right fucking here." She tapped her heart with her whole hand. "My faith in Cita has never wavered. But you--" she jabbed a finger at him, "--are not Cita."
There was nothing additional he may have gained by probing her thoughts; Mike spoke her mind, and right now she held none of it back.
She spoke what she believed to be the truth-- he could sense as much without any shred of doubt. It was incredibly frustrating to be told by those who called themselves believers that their faith had not gone askew. It was as plain as day that they had misplaced it and yet they adamantly refused to accept this simple fact. Their denial was mind-boggling, and his inability to comprehend how they could possibly be so blind showed in the disapproving frown on his lips.
There was nothing he would do for it. If she did not want to believe in him, then so be it. He would never force anyone -- they had their choices to make.
"Remove your robe, Michaela. You are unworthy of your title."
That was it, then? Being stripped of her Cancellarius title by something that only had authority because the rest of the Civitates were too blinded by their need to be right to realize the truth? Fine. So be it.
"Fine by me." She tore off her Cancellarius cloak, balled it up, and flung it to his feet. "I want nothing to do with you, and nothing to do with a congregation too blind to realize the hypocrisy in killing Others while holding one up as their god."
His eyes flashed angrily, and in that second the wall struck out like living liquid to deliver a blow to the side of Mike's face.
"Your arrogance is shameful, Michaela," he said, blue eyes narrowed icily. His tone was no longer gently disappointed, but cold, firm and dangerous. "I will accept your choice to fall away, but I will not tolerate a blatant disregard for who I am in my own house."
Disgusting. That such a person would dare to consider herself a Cancellarius and insult the god she was supposed to serve with the same tongue -- the gall of humans would never cease to amaze him. Again, he wondered if he had been mistaken in thinking they were ready for his arrival.
Perhaps he was here to straighten them out once and for all.
Others and unbelievers alike had to be purged from his midst.
Still, as he inhaled deeply, allowing the ire Mike had summoned in him to dissipate with his breath, Cita knew that he was a merciful god. The Citadel swam lazily to his feet and remained there, a warning to Mike that it would be best to do as he said. "Leave now, and your impudence will be overlooked."
Mike had been well-known during her time in the Guard for her ability to take a punch. It depended on two things: knowing the hit was coming, and it being delivered by nothing harder than flesh and bone. The wall lashed out so suddenly, struck her so forcefully, that it knocked her to the ground.
She lay sprawled there for a moment, trying to collect her wits through the blackness that danced across her vision. She stared up at him, stunned.
If anything, she thought, it was proof that he wasn't the Cita the Epistles told of. Where was his gentleness, his kindness, his forgiveness? Where was his mercy? This was not the benevolent god of the Epistles. This was the angry, vengeful god of the doomsayers.
He only felt anger for being called an Other because it was a truth he refused to acknowledge.
She shoved herself to her feet, slowly but surely picking herself up from the floor. She rubbed the back of her hand below her lip, rubbing away a trickle of blood from a cut the sudden blow had opened up when the inside of her cheek met her teeth.
There was plenty she wanted to say, a thousand parting blows to throw back, but she was wise enough to know that this Other would not let her get up the second time. Without another word, or any further acknowledgement, she turned and strode out of the room, and out of the Citadel.