12-01-2020, 07:05 PM
Armande couldn't help the smile. Seeing the face of Patricus- even more than that of Theiss- felt like revisiting another life from long ago. The last time he had met with the Pontiff had been in his chambers more than an year ago. Though his war with Apollyon- indeed all the gods- predated that meeting, it felt like a different time and place. Things had seemed clearer, more simple. Black and white. But that wasn't reality And the world had gone through indescribable changes.
He had changed.
Indeed, he was not the same man he had been. He looked from Valeriya to Rowan and then back to Patricus. Had changed...and yet the truth was, he was more himself than ever before. Fate or a divine will the Renaissance sculptor chipping away with hammer and chisel, as if detritus and extraneity had been cut away to leave him whole and unencumbered, freeing him from the final cocoon that had been "Regus of the Atharim".
Freshly from his idyll in the below and birthed through the forest, he was now revealed to the man feeling the cold wind bite against his ears and neck, rifle his exposed hair.
Patricus was his usual self, a curious mixture of believer and agnostic, narcissist and altruist. There was no judgement in the evaluation. Armande appreciated his candor and lack of self deprecation. People were driven by self-interest in most cases, for various definitions of "self"- family, community, nation, religion and so forth. At least Patricus was honest about it. It made, he had discovered, dealing with the man far easier. His choice of the man as Pope had indeed turned out to exactly what was needed- for himself and, he supposed, for the Holy Church.
Armande nodded with a slight laugh. "Ever the one to eschew waiting, despite your robes and the traditions inherent to your position." He waved it off as if it were no matter. He was much the same. "As for mystery...yes it is one. Not Mystery in the theological sense, with a capital M. Yet perhaps all the more true for all of that." He paused and considered all three of them before going on. "All of us have been given visions and tasked with an purpose. To find a garden and the pillar that is at the center. The pillar has four faces that you may recognize from the writings of Ezekiel and John the Revelator." He stopped, as he knew what he was about to say was more opinion than anything born out in that vision. "What we do there will save the world as we know it."
The vision of himself and Apollyon burning together came to him. Whatever the cost, he would pay it.
He raised an eyebrow to Patricus. "These women- The Eyes of Fate- have seen it. I have seen it. As have you, or you'd not have dropped everything to come here. Am I wrong? What did you see?"
He had changed.
Indeed, he was not the same man he had been. He looked from Valeriya to Rowan and then back to Patricus. Had changed...and yet the truth was, he was more himself than ever before. Fate or a divine will the Renaissance sculptor chipping away with hammer and chisel, as if detritus and extraneity had been cut away to leave him whole and unencumbered, freeing him from the final cocoon that had been "Regus of the Atharim".
Freshly from his idyll in the below and birthed through the forest, he was now revealed to the man feeling the cold wind bite against his ears and neck, rifle his exposed hair.
Patricus was his usual self, a curious mixture of believer and agnostic, narcissist and altruist. There was no judgement in the evaluation. Armande appreciated his candor and lack of self deprecation. People were driven by self-interest in most cases, for various definitions of "self"- family, community, nation, religion and so forth. At least Patricus was honest about it. It made, he had discovered, dealing with the man far easier. His choice of the man as Pope had indeed turned out to exactly what was needed- for himself and, he supposed, for the Holy Church.
Armande nodded with a slight laugh. "Ever the one to eschew waiting, despite your robes and the traditions inherent to your position." He waved it off as if it were no matter. He was much the same. "As for mystery...yes it is one. Not Mystery in the theological sense, with a capital M. Yet perhaps all the more true for all of that." He paused and considered all three of them before going on. "All of us have been given visions and tasked with an purpose. To find a garden and the pillar that is at the center. The pillar has four faces that you may recognize from the writings of Ezekiel and John the Revelator." He stopped, as he knew what he was about to say was more opinion than anything born out in that vision. "What we do there will save the world as we know it."
The vision of himself and Apollyon burning together came to him. Whatever the cost, he would pay it.
He raised an eyebrow to Patricus. "These women- The Eyes of Fate- have seen it. I have seen it. As have you, or you'd not have dropped everything to come here. Am I wrong? What did you see?"