Conversation Space IV.

[powersthatbe]

The small room is painted a dark beige, with stained wood paneling on the lower half, and lush burgundy carpeting. The ceiling, however, is cracked and bowed, sagging alarmingly, occasionally shedding chips of plaster. Wrought-iron lamp-posts in the corners suspend pale, wan globes of light, and between them along the walls run rows of painted sunflowers, all turned towards the center of the room as if listening attentively. A jutting spire of granite rises from the floor on a diagonal, its flattened top sporting a cracked wineglass from which the wine (a white) slowly spatters teardrops across the plinth. And there is no chair, but a therapist’s couch, blue with gold trim, and ornate scrollwork on the legs, beside which the fluted horn of a phonograph player pipes music into the room, quiet enough to just be background ambience.

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[ayiyiyi]

By now, Xena had been expecting this. There were few Travellers left on the Unmarked side, after all. She'd known this would be coming soon.

"So who do I have the honour of speaking with?" she says, as she steps around the spire, her eyes quickly taking in her surroundings, her ears listening to the music in the background.

[callmemeibe]

"Your new patron," answers a voice from behind Xena.

The voice that speaks is a dark-skinned figure in blinding white, large feathered wings currently curled to rest behind their back. They carry only a curved ram's horn trumpet. They sit on the plinth's diagonal edge, seemingly content despite the obvious unpleasantness of the granite.

"You may call me Penuel."

[ayiyiyi]

"Penuel," she says, with a nod. There's no hostility as she looks at the Arcanum; just an impassive watchfulness. This may be her new 'patron', but Xena will be the judge of whether this is a patron she wishes to follow.

"I've had a patron before," she says, her voice almost light and casual. "Ares, the god of war." She steps forward, looking the Arcanum straight in the eye. "It didn't work out so well," she adds dryly.

[callmemeibe]

"I am not Ares," they answer simply, before adding, "It is not a choice made lightly. You have been... well-studied."

[ayiyiyi]

"Good, because I won't be what Ares wants me to be. Not anymore," she says. "So tell me, Penual. Why should I accept you as my patron? Who will you want me to be? If you've studied me well, you should know that I won't fight for a cause that isn't right."

The old Xena would have fought for power, and glory, and death itself. But she wasn't the old Xena any more.

[callmemeibe]

The angel actually looks confused for a moment. "I do not wish that. I wish you to be as you currently are."

They shift the ram's horn in their hands, before adding, "My cause is Salvation. Redemption.

Judgment."

[ayiyiyi]

For just an instant, Xena's stoic mask wavers, and a wave of complex emotion breaks thought.

Redemption.

She hadn't expected this. She'd expected something akin to the Olympians; gods who's very being reflected, and embodied, the very make up of the world...but who were at the same time capable of petty selfishness and cruelty.

"You have studied me well," she says, her voice thick. "I've committed terrible crimes. Evils that I can't erase, no matter how much good I do. And that darkness is still within me, as much as I wish I could deny it. I long for redemption with all of my being, but I know that it will take me the rest of my life, and more."

[callmemeibe]

"You seem so certain," answers the angel, frowning slightly. "I chose you because you are one of the few worthy of my absolution. I do not care a whit for your past outside Liminal Space, except when it affects Synodiporia." They pause, briefly, before adding with some thought, "Do not misunderstand; your gods, or whatever passes for them, will judge your crimes. Your reckoning will be with them, not with me."

[ayiyiyi]

"I care," she says, her jaw firm and resolved. "My past is a part of me. I am not absolved of it just because I am far from home."

But she leans back then, looking at Penuel. She appears casual, but there's a watchful glint in those eyes, a careful consideration. "What fate awaits those who are not worthy?"

[callmemeibe]

"It is a part of you, yes; but I am not the one to assess it. I only judge your actions in Liminal Space and its loci."

The being considers it for a moment, shifting the trumpet in their hands. "It entirely depends on who is declared the victor. If I win, I will decide the fate of wicked Cabalists, and leave you and the rest of my Chosen to decide the fate those unworthy of my mark will receive."

[ayiyiyi]

"I see," she says, revealing nothing of her thoughts in her eyes. "So who are the wicked Cabalists, and what fate do you have in mind for them?"

[callmemeibe]

They fall silent for a moment, reflecting. "There are several I consider wicked, whom I shall punish accordingly. The Antisticides will be dealt with according to their mores. The Exploiters will be banned from the next cycle of Synodiporia."

[ayiyiyi]

"That's quite a lot of punishing you have planned," Xena observes.

[callmemeibe]

"There are several of our number whom I believe should be punished for their crimes," they answer simply, shrugging their shoulders a little. It is clear they are uncomfortable with being casual, but attempting on Xena's behalf.