RP:Bow of the Cherubim
Summary: Something rare and miraculous happens at the hands of Bastion and Raven gets that annoying feeling to help out.
Sins Abated
As you enter this area, you are immediately overwhelmed by the absolute silence. Even the wind does not make a sound as it gently passes through the blades of grass. A large statue of fine ivory rests at the far end of this grassy cliff. The statue stands at the edge of the cliff, depicting an almost angelic looking Avian woman. Her wings are spread outwards and her hand extended, with the most compassionate of expressions. Whatever evil you may have done, you feel as if this woman is forgiving you for them. A small, golden dish is embedded in the platform of the statue - to accept offerings or prayers.
Bastion needed time to reflect, after the events in Larket. It was going to be hard to reestablish himself, so that he could heal without worrying about violence. He'd gone to the bards guild to reflect on the situation, while listening to some soothing music. After a while, he'd found himself wandering about, even going so far as to play his ocarina. He'd never played anything melancholy, it never really suited his mood. But he was reflective, even a bit pensive, trying to figure this out. He'd walked fearlessly, wingless, over a bridge of glass, watching the world below, fully knowing what would happen should he fall. Eventaully, he came to a place that was... different. Silent. He lowered his ocarina, respectful of the quiet, and watched the avian statue, as a few avians gave offerings, some in tears. There was an avian woman in front of him in a shawl, face veiled. When she rose and turned, he looked up at her tall form, and she stared back, then broke out crying. He could tell, she was mourning the loss of a child... one whom he must remind her of. He walked to her, and held up his hand to her. She looked at him in confusion, then lowered her hand to his. He turned her hand over in his own, and put his palm down on hers. When he removed his hand, there was a pink petal in hers, and he gave her a somber smile. She cried harder, falling to her knees, and he gave her a hug. There was healing in crying, something he'd always known. The avian statue shimmered, behind the pair.
Raven Cadenza was learning quite a bit of this new life she’s apparently lived. She doesn’t even remember Brennia, the one she leached off for over a hundred and thirty years, but it is so odd that she still feels like she’s two hundred and at the same time she does feel properly three hundred years old. It’s an odd sensation, really, feeling like there was lost time, but there wasn’t and eventually teal hued eyes travel back to Corvo who was asking her if she was still listening, “yes.” Her velvety alto timbre answered simply, but boy was Corvo boring. She gets it, she will continue to be this Brennia lady until some election has won because if she doesn’t then the college will be lost and her home. She feels attached to both for some reason and agrees to go along. The six foot two avian, now tattooless(mostly), accompanied by a small detail of secret service protectors. Corvo was instructing Raven that she needs to address these families who were distantly affected by the tragedies of Larket and some fellow avians; simple enough. She put on a sympathetic expression under the cover of a parasol, like most avians are - to keep away from the sun’s rays, and held out a gloved hand to some along with a soft and kind tone to her voice, “I am sorry for your loss.” Some even give the woman hug which set the secret protection on edge a little, but nothing nefarious on this day. She looks down at Bastion with a soft smile, “merry meet,” Corvo leans in to whisper to remind her and she adds, “... Bastion.” Eventually her teal hued gaze finds the statue behind him and she stares in wonder for a small moment, “all is well?” This woman seemed different, but not at the same time.
Bastion wasn't terribly observant sometimes, in spite of his miraculous eyes, but he could see immediately that this wasn't Brennia. Still, he was sworn to Truth. If she dressed in disguise, she trusted him in confidance to preserve that secret, especially since it was Brennia she was standing in for. Considering her detail of guards, it was obvious that this was the case. Politics... Bastion had seen too much violence born of the complexities of Violence. He kissed the woman's cheek, and she his, before she ventured towards the bridge of glass, walking instead of flying. Bastion looked to 'Brennia', with a soft smile. "Headmistress. A good day to you. There is much sorrow this day. I can no longer freely enter Larket to help the dispossessed, the victimized." And he was still nursing broken bones." An avian man came by, an old priest, and he looked at Bastion and Brennia sternly. "Your pardon. We will have silence, in this place. None are exempt from this." He looked more sternly over Bastion, who merely responded with a soft, sad smile, and nodded his head. He would not break this rule again. He approached the statue, and knelt, pulling out a small pouch. He poured a small bit of incense, and drew a flint and tinder, striking it until it was lit, and offering a prayer with the incense. The statue shimmered yet again, a few avians lurking around the grounds murmering about it.
Raven quirked her brow. That was odd, to not be allowed in a place to help people? She was just about to ask about it when they were shushed and maybe the old Raven would give him a piece of her mind, but Corvo’s gentle touch on her elbow kept her cool while leading her to an area where it was more acceptable to have a conversation. She would wait for Bastion to wonder over with them and curiosity gets the better of her, but she still seems to not even care or second glance at this horns, “who aren’t you allowed in Larket?” The dark wings seem calmer and more strict in their movements as if they are a figurative wall to her true self. Not letting people in, Raven was always good at that.
Bastion looked up at Raven with a sad little smile. "I defended a witch against an angry mob." He almost died, too. "Luckily, no one was hurt." He was still in bandages, still had broken bones. But the situation had the potential for a very dark turn. Bastion was holding something, and there were avians staring at him, and starting to talk. Not whisper, talk. With increasing volume. "I found this bow on the statue. Something told me to take it, I'm not sure why. Isn't it pretty though?" It was a bow out of avian myth, the story passed down from many thousands of years ago. An avian boy named Cherub had lost his wings, and instead of bemoaning his fate, had spent his life helping others, filled with love and joy. So moved was a master fletcher and bow maker, that he made him an enchanted bow, that would give him wings so long as there was yet joy in his heart, and would do no harm, for the boy insisted that he'd never fire an arrow that would harm. Thus was the legend of the Bow of the Cherubim, a boy who's story was told to encourage avian children to behave in song and story for generations. The bow was pink wood with black distress, the shape of a pair of beautiful lips, shot through with intricate, dark black runes. "Hey, look headmistress. When you draw it, it makes pretty arrows." He was so careless, enjoying the new toy, with its arrows of bright pink ligiht, shimmering just as the statue had. Avians were screaming and pointing now, the old avian who'd shushed them was marching their way, looking furious.
Raven watched with a soft smirk and really she nor Brennia would know what the bow meant because they are from Vere, it is what ‘de Vere’ means, but all she knew is that Bastion was having fun and his smile was pure enjoyment. Corvo on the other hand peeped the young man holding the bow of legend and his grey eyes widened, “where did you get -that-?” He wasn’t about to touch it though - it’s not his right. He mumbles a curse word when the old Avian was huffing his way over and Raven stepped up to put herself between him and Bation, “is there something -else- we can help with?” Where Brennia was a charmer, Raven was obviously strong and confident which can be intimidating to some. She unbuttoned the blazer and nested her hands in the curve of her waist, “what rules are we breaking now?” Teal eyes slightly narrow in a way that could make a man feel cold to the core and that rich velvety timbre lowers for just him to hear, “mind yourself… This is -my- guild member.” A threat without the actual words.
Bastion saw what was going on, and blinked at all the staring people, especially the caretaker. "He isn't avian! That is... that is a relic of OUR people! Have you no shame?!" He was obviously intimidated, and stepping back. He knew who she was, and the fact that she had an escort with her, well. "You're an outsider, as much as he! What do you know or care for our traditions, for our history?" Bastion had a very concerned look on his features, but another avian spoke up. "The bow selects its wielder. Since the days of Cherubim, only one other wielded it. He was avian, though..." Most didn't seem to think that Bastion should wield this bow. The caretaker was turning purple in the face. "Four hundred years I have cared for this thrice cursed shrine, and it gives an artifact of our people to some goat-bastard brat?" He rushed Bastion, who stood apart from Brennia and her guard. Bastion was fast, but he was sworn to peace... he could not fight until struck. The avian's wings beat the air, and he closed the distance in a leap, grabbing the bow. Bastion did not let go, and the much taller, stronger avian flung him with a mighty pull, jumping with the use of his wings, and tossing Bastion off the edge of the platform, into the open space beyond. Bastion felt butterflies in his stomach as the world lurched, and began to fall away from him.
Raven deep down, was thoroughly irritated because this old man really just tired her had she been back on island Vere the dried up flying raisin wouldn’t have even walked over. “Excuse me? How can you be that old and be so narrow minded?” He made the mistake of calling him a goat bastard and Corvo had to hold Raven’s right arm back as she was about to clock the old man, but she at least got a foot out to trip in him up in his advances. She pulls sharply back from Corvo, “if you expect me to sit here and do nothi-“ she started in an elevated volume, but Corvo was faster than she was. He flew at the old man and pinned him down onto the ground while Raven watched Bastion soaring into the air. She stepped out from under the parasol being held up by a near guard and he protests, “Miss Smyth!” Damn the solar allergy, with brilliant force shes meeting Bastion in his downfall and catches him.
Bastion felt the world turn upside down, and then again as he fell, when 'Brennia' dove and caught him. He wondered if that was something the real Brennia would do... he also wondered whether he should more carefully consider how dangerous it was to be this high up. He clung to 'Brennia' for dear life, burying his face against her, and trying not to think about all the empty space around them, especially below.
Raven lands easy enough and places Bastion back on his feet, but wouldn’t leave his side until his legs were sturdy under him once more. One long slender finger points at the guard holding the parasol she was standing under in his hurry to get to her, “you. Stay here with him and I swear if you let anyone near him that means him harm I will…” we have decided to pan over to some nice flowers during Raven’s threat because this version of this woman is not all sunshine and butterflies like Brennia was. The guard’s eyes were wide and let Raven take the parasol with her on her way to Corvo and it sounds like she’s reallllly giving that caretaker a talking to. Jabbing her finger in his chest when referencing his actions probably saying something like, “and -you-, you need to be a pinnacle in this society as you are one of the oldest to remain in Scherezade.” Those striking eyes narrow, “maybe -you- need to get outside of Schezerade a bit more… There’s a whole world out there!” You cannot go around calling people goat-bastards and then she’s pointing towards Bastion, “just because the race doesn’t match, does not speak for the person within. Prophecies are not clear and in most cases not true. Now, if you cannot gather yourself enough to man up and apologize for your childish actions against that young man, who is at least twenty times younger than you - by.the.way, then I have half a mind to…” again, let's think about something else other than the horrendous threatening promise she is dealing that man as those plump lips tightened around her words which made them harsher. And, yeah, she has her finger all up in that guy's face. maybe there’s even a subtle bit of a head tilt from one side to the other.
Bastion let go of Raven when they were on land once more, though his heart thudded in his chest. He wanted to say thank you, but she was already rounding on the avian man Corvo had incapacitated, after his violent outburst. The man looked singularly unrepentant. His gaze at Raven was filled with fury and malice, and his gaze at Bastion was filled with disgust. Considering his situation, though, he was wise enough to avert his eyes and hold his tongue. Bastion held the bow in his hands, still. He wasn't sure why he hadn't let it go, or dropped it. It seemed to compel him to protect it. He looked between it and Raven, biting his lip. "Is it really ok for me to have this, headmistress? He is right. This is a relic of your people. I'm an outsider. Wouldn't it be better off in avian hands?"
Raven smiles down at Bastion and no matter how kind it seems it never really seemed to lessen the dullness in those teal eyes, “if you were able to lift it then it is okay.” She looked up at the small crowd that seemed to have gathered, “it is a relic that belonged to a being that happened to be avian. In no way does the prophecy say that the bearer is chosen by race, only by what lies within the heart.” She felt corny for saying it and masked those cynical emotions with a subtle shrug, “I think it is better off in the hands of one pure of heart - as the prophecy states.” A hand motions to the bridge of glass, “let’s retire to the college, yeah? There are some people there excited to learn of your specialized healing practices.” Of which she was just reminded of by Corvo.
Bastion saw that there were still those who disagreed. The avian's were a people of powerful pride, and that pride was wounded by an artifact representing the good of their own kind choosing one not of their race. Many took it as far more than a slight, but that wasn't all avians who viewed it as such, obviously. The headmistress disagreed. He looked to Raven, and nodded his head, moving in the direction she had indicated. To the college. Hopefully, he'd have a warm reception by his fellow students in song, and not too terribly many ballads about him claiming an avian bow of legend... he feared the possible inflamatory effect of as much.