10211/Path of Glory: Carry Each Other's Burdens

Path of Glory: Carry Each Other's Burdens
Date of Scene:	19 February 2022
Location:	Holy Ghost Church
Synopsis:	Post-Winterhold retreat. Jon Simms and Lady Death are dead. Phoebe offers to heal Cael's burns. Red Robin is temporarily holding the Archives and Cael's sword for her.
Cast of Characters:	Phoebe Beacon, Cael Becker, Tim Drake

---

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
Brothers, if anyone is caught in any transgression, you who are spiritual should restore him in a spirit of gentleness. Keep watch on yourself, lest you too be tempted. Bear one another's burdens, and so fulfill the law of Christ. For if anyone thinks he is something, when he is nothing, he deceives himself. But let each one test his own work, and then his reason to boast will be in himself alone and not in his neighbor. For each will have to bear his own load.

    Their work was done here. Jon has passed and gone to the arms of either an uncaring or forgiving Presence. Lady Death has suffered and passed from her own veil.

    The mental overlay on Tim Drake was holding and strong; the slight adjustments made by Sandalphon ensured Phoebe did not have to use her failsafe -- to both her relief and chagrin in turns.

    And Phoebe held her gloved pinky finger, crooked against Cael Becker's.

    "We go regardless. We'll find a way, I promise." she whispers quietly.

Cael Becker has posed:
    "Lady Death is gone," Cael says a bit flatly, before pulling her hand back, touch it to her chest. Touch ellicits pain, which is a good thing. Third degree burns don't hurt - because the nerves have been destroyed. "She gave me something, put it in my chest. Energy Arcane. It's- there's an emptiness there. It's gone."
    She pulls her hand away, only to wrap both arms tightly around the empty SHIELD tactical gear she's pulled towards herself. She knew this was coming. She'd tried to prepare herself for it, at the same time that she'd prepared Jon.
    She'd clearly succeeded at the one, and failed at the other, as the tears streaking desperately down her cheeks attest.

Tim Drake has posed:
    This is no longer Red Robin's war. As soon as the it had moved on from the mortal plane it became the war of gods and magicians, and yet here he is, a mortal among it all. Without the adrenaline surging through his system it's all the more evident in his posture, awkwardly closed off as he stands apart.

    Waiting in the wings, for Phoebe.

    He looks on as the castle, once the domain of a Hell Lord they fought beside, now gone on to... whatever comes next. Tim doesn't ask himself those kinds of questions, usually, and even now with the specter of death all around them, he resists the urge to start pondering mortality and the existence of an afterlife. Instead he crosses his arms over his chest and keeps his eyes politely averted.

    If he's having any issues with the Archive now being in his head, well, he hasn't mentioned.

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    "Cael, listen to me." Phoebe states quietly:

    "No one is ever truly gone. The energy that we are made of, from the beginning of existence when The Presence willed it into being still circles. We are made from the same elements as the stars, and lit with the lights of Creation, which is why we can affect things so *strongly* where the Angels cannot."

    Phoebe, eighteen years old, the victim of so many things robbed from her, tries to console Cael.

    She can still feel Tim at the back of her mind, the ward she placed on him fading with the power of the Archives behind it. She looks back to Tim a moment, over her shoulder, and then she reaches up to remove her domino entirely, tucking into its little pocket as she pushes down her hood, showing the blood streaks and ashy spots on her skin between murdered Seraphs and burned notes to ensure the enemies could not undo her work so easily to preserve Jon's powers for his return.

    "Magic itself is just convincing the other parts of the universe that what you're saying is the Truth. Everything from the ability to light a fire from fingertips --" she begins, and she offers her hands, palm up. Her fingertips glow in the friendly, warm rosy-gold that her magic is stained -- the same power of the light that the Angels themselves use, but softer. The color of dawn and new beginnings rather than the blinding brilliance of Michael.

    "-- to my gift of restoration, are all rebellous cries out against the universe to Get Our Way. You and I both know that the only two universal truths that cannot be altered are what we have experienced tonight -- Death, and Love. And you cannot kill either one. Death is ever present, and what you feel right now, in your chest, filling your ribs and overflowing your bones?"

    She swallows a lump in her throat "... that pain of grief, is love persevering."

Cael Becker has posed:
    Cael listens to Phoebe in silence, the only sound from her the raggid way she breathes as she kneels on the ground, hunched over the clothes she hugs to her chest, with the black-hued wings from her armor folded at her back. She doesn't offer any immediate response as her mind whirls, and she struggles to make sense of the pain she feels.
    She thought she was ready. She thought she'd be strong enough for this - but she can't help but feel like it's a test that she's failed, and failed badly.
    In the end, though, she doesn't comment on anything Phoebe says - doesn't acknowledge any comfort that was offered - she instead asks, "It worked, didn't it? The spell? Agnes is alright, at least? Jon would want- it was important to him." That Agnes be alright.

Tim Drake has posed:
    From where he remains several feet away, all Red Robin has to say to Cael's question is: "It worked."

    He does not elaborate. Instead, he takes a few steps closer to a nearby half-destroyed window. The distant sound of Castle Winterhaven continuing to crumble, its fantastical engineering and intricate brickwork falling to pieces without Lady Death's presence to hold it all together. "We should leave soon," he says, quietly.

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    "Red Robin is holding the Archives temporarily. Agnes is as safe as she can be." Phoebe confirms, with a little smile. "Winterhaven's retreating, and Red's right. I have to make sure he's not overstressing, Jon wants me to look after some things while he is away. And that would include you, Cael."

    Her gaze turns serious. "Do you want me to make it not hurt, just for a little while so you can sleep? We can drop you off with Sara, or to Martin's, or wherever you would like to rest at, but you *need* the rest."

Cael Becker has posed:
    Take the hurt away? How is that even possible? Cael's arms tighten around the bundle she holds to herself, and she shakes her head in response. "No..." Things like this should hurt. They're //supposed// to hurt. When you fail - especially when you fail the people you love - it should. "No. And Martin has enough. He has to- he needs to look after himself, and Agnes, he can't look after me, as well."
    And she can't face him. How could she face him?
    She forces herself to her feet, moving awkwardly with the bruising to her chest, and the bundle held in her arms. "I'll be alright," she asserts in a flat tone. "You should take care of yourself, and Red Robin."

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    Phoebe gives a flat-out, exhausted look, and summons her best no-nonsense voice:

    "Cael Becker, sit your ass down, I meant your injuries. I'm good, but my last attempt to fix a broken heart ended poorly."

Tim Drake has posed:
    When Cael tells Phoebe to take care of him, Tim glances over his shoulder. The mask hides the narrow-eyed look that accompanies it, so his lack of response could be read a multiple of ways.

    He returns to his casual perusal of the destruction of Lady Death's domain going on outside the window. If he bites the inside of his cheek to keep from snorting at Phoebe's attempt to sound 'no-nonsense' then making sure he keeps his attention focused away is just for the best. No one needs to know.

Cael Becker has posed:
    There's a faint huff of air from Cael as she's ordered to sit down - though it's hard to determine if it's amusement, or annoyance as she regards Phoebe, then looks down at her burned hands, which still clutch the bundle of Jon's clothes. She knows what Jon would urge - and even //order//. But he isn't here anymore.
    She can see the faint line of the flame tattoos across her hands. Tattoos she'd put there because her hands had been burned once before - and healed without leaving any mark of what she'd endured. And now she has a sword... that burns her hands. She lets out a breathy laugh without much humor in it.
    "My amulet with heal them. But can you take the sword, and keep it safe for me?"

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    "And your bruises?" Phoebe points out, though she lets the light fade from her hands as she leans back on her thighs, legs forming a W on the floor. She's beginning to feel all the armor she's wearing, and it all feels uncomfortably warm.

    "Where will you go to recover? I'm... not comfortable with you being alone tonight. But I think Red's going to want to get going as soon as possible for a little research and then probably... sleep. A lot of sleep. Medical Officer Mandated Sleep." she states, raising her voice a little bit to make *sure* Tim hears her.

Tim Drake has posed:
    Tim only clucks his tongue as he moves away from the window. His footsteps are still practiced silent as he bends down to pick up Cael's sword with his gloved hand, the other one bare and its magical inkword fading back into pale skin. "Let us know when you want it returned to you," he says. "In the meantime, it will be kept somewhere safe."

    Then he looks over at Phoebe, head canted slightly to the side. "We all need a good night's sleep."

    Definitely a lot of stress on that 'we' there.

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    "Medical overri-- actually yeah, no, we all need sleep." Phoebe admits.

Cael Becker has posed:
    "Amulet heals those too," Cael answers. That's the easy part of her response - as to the where she'll be? That seems to take her more time. She lapses into silence, before her gaze turns away from them, and towards Central Park. She stares in that direction for a while before finally answering softly, "I think I need to go to the tree. Then I'll go home."
    Her gaze returns to Phoebe as she adds, "I won't hurt myself. I'm the anchor. I promised Jon I'd come for him. I... promised." And she'll keep that promise, even if she has her doubts about how everything will turn out in the end.
    She has to try.
    Turning her head to Tim she adds, "You could always send it to me at the Triskelion. Or- well. I'll need it the next time we fight any of these fuckers. Whenever that'll be."

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    "I'll bring it with me. Until we open the astral, your only job is to find a focus, and hold onto it tightly." Phoebe states, and she hops up to her feet -- wobbles a little bit, but she breathes out.

    "We'll find a way to make it work, Cael."

Cael Becker has posed:
    Cael nods her head, looking between the pair as she adds quietly, "Thank you for protecting Agnes. You know how much that-" meant? Means? "...means to Jon. I'm sure he'll cook you a huge meal in gratitude, when- ...when we get him back." They still, can. ...can't they?
    Trying to force herself to believe that, she spreads her wings - and takes to the sky, moving through the still realtively-quiet city on her way to Central Park. To the tree. To the one place where, ridiculously or not, she feels closest to Jon in his absence.
    She'll talk to Lydia. They'll find a way to bring Jon back - whether or not they have Lady Death. There //has// to be a way. Right?
    ...right?