10227/Visit From a Vampire

Visit From a Vampire
Date of Scene:	09 February 2022
Location:	Martin and Jon's Suite
Synopsis:	Lydia comes to visit Jon after his ordeal. They talk about love and death and what's to come.
Cast of Characters:	Jonathan Sims, Lydia Dietrich

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Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon has been on a schedule that actually matches up with Lydia's, ironically enough. He'd been asleep during the day and awake all night, during his time in the desert, and he'd been terribly tired when he arrived back in New York at dawn. So now he's awake at odd hours, though that isn't really terrible. Martin's often up late too, working graveyard shift as an EMT, so it's meant that he and Martin can sleep together in the bed through the day for once.

    When Lydia comes to visit, Martin's at work and Cael's in the bed, and Jon's gently extracted himself to go sit in the living room. Partly because he's going to have a visitor, but partly just to have a little time alone, to brood. So whenever she comes to the Triskelion, down into the windowless Basement to knock on the door, he'll be up and ready to answer.

Lydia Dietrich has posed:
    This is the first time Lydia has been to the Triskelion, and she had to admit that she was a little nervous about it. It wasn't too long ago that SHIELD would arrest her on sight simply for being a member of the Brotherhood. But, she was assured that she wouldn't have any problems getting in since she is /also/ a member of Justice League dark and that Martin and Jon would vouch for her.

    She makes her way to the door and gives it a knock. When opened she gives Jon a concerned smile. "Hey, Jon. How're you holding up?" She lifts a plain paper bag, "I made you some banana nut muffins."

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon smiles as he opens the door. It's a wan smile, and he still looks thin and pale and drawn. He's been cleaned up, however, no longer smelling of dried blood. "Come on in," he says, thinking Lydia has to be invited. "Martin's out and Cael's asleep. And I'm... mmm. I've been better."

    The mezuzah on the door speaks louder than words that there is a practicing Jew in the household, and further in there's a small altar with incense and statues of Thoth and Ma'at and Anubis. Other than those signs of interfaith living, there's bookshelves filled with both books and knick-knacks, knitted and crocheted blankets and pillows on the furniture, and the smell hanging in the air of people who use a lot of spices in their cooking regularly--cardamom and cumin most prevalent, with a persistent undercurrent of tea. They drink a /lot/ of tea. There are also a lot of plants, pretty much everywhere, hanging from hooks or sitting along the tops of the bookshelves.

    Jon takes the bag from Lydia as he leads her toward the living room and says, "Would you like anything? I... well, I could /try/ to make tea, I suppose, but I can't vouch for my ability to do much of anything just now." He /does/ look awfully weak.

Lydia Dietrich has posed:
    "I appreciate the offer, but I think you're better off resting," Lydia says as she makes her way into the apartment. "I could make the tea, though, if you like. Just point to where everything is and I'll get it going."

    "You look better than you did the other day. I can't imagine what it was that Michael put you through." She makes her way through the living room and into the kitchen, "Were you able to get through to him at all?"

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    "It's in the kitchen, on the counter," Jon says. "Martin makes so much tea he doesn't bother putting it away." He says it in a half-exasperated, half-fond tone. "And Michael... no, not really." He sighs as he goes to stand in the kitchen doorway. "/He/ got through to /me/, actually. Made me see a lot of things about myself that I'd been hiding or denying." He moves to try to shift the bag to his other hand--but he doesn't /have/ the other hand. Making a noise of frustration, he puts the bag on the counter and runs his hand through his hair.

    "He gave me forty lashes--healed me up halfway through--and removed my arm. Then gave me his statement, and showed me the world he wants to make." He sighs. "Then, when I rejected that world, because it was false... he dumped me into a desert and left me alone there for forty days. He's big on the Biblical numbers, it seems."

    The kitchen is neatly put together and clearly sees regular use. There is indeed an entire area for tea-making on the counter, with an electric kettle and several varieties of loose leaf, all imported and most from Harney & Sons. There's also several types of herbal teas, and a pot, and strainers, and mugs. Even the sugar bowl sits there; all that's missing is cream, which is presumably in the fridge.

Lydia Dietrich has posed:
    Lydia checks the kettle to make sure it has water in it then plugs it in, setting it to boil. "Was removing your arm his idea of 'eye for an eye?'" she asks browsing the different types of tea, trying to decide what they should have. "Any preferences?"

    "What kind of world would he have made?" She tries to imagine what it possibly could but but just can't. "When we had him bound at the Laughing Magician he mentioned that he would remake it with a little less free will. Have a muffin," she says with a grin. "They're fresh."

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    "It was," Jon says wryly. "He seems big into Old Testament style judgement--and I say that deliberately, because the God of the Torah is /not/ the same as the Christian idea of the Old Testament God, I'm aware of that. I suspect he's still being affected by human beliefs, somehow." He sighs, and pulls a muffin out of the bag. He takes a slow bite, because he's still getting used to have anything like a proper amount of food.

    "It was... it said a lot about him, actually. It made me realize that he doesn't want to restrict free will because he wants control--it's that he's giving us what he thinks we want, because it's what /he/ wants. It was a world where there's no war, no prejudice, but still... challenges to overcome. Natural disasters, accidents. I didn't have my arm there, and Cael was a... she did search and rescue. Everyone /knew/ God existed, and there was no real religion? It was more just... God exists, and people would speculate on the /idea/ of, say, evil, but evil didn't exist either. But there were few doctors, no therapists. I was a philosophy professor." He smirks and shakes his head.

    "Our daughter was alive. Lyra. She and Agnes both lived with us... and Agnes' mother was still alive, too. And my parents. It... it was hard to... leave." He frowns down at the muffin. "But it was a lie. Lyra's dead. And a new universe would still be flawed."

Lydia Dietrich has posed:
    Lydia scowls as she selects one of the teas to try. A nice green tea blend. Lavender jasmine. She tries to imagine the world as Jon describes it. Not perfect but idyllic. "I wonder what I would have been doing in that world," she muses. "Maybe I would have actually gotten a teaching job. They probably paid teachers a living wage there."

    She waits patiently for the kettle to boil, scooping the tea into infusers. "But I wouldn't have met Mystique," she concludes, "and all the supernatural books that I loved growing up would have never been written. Everything would be okay but just that. Okay. Bland."

    Her expression turns into a scowl. "It was unfair of him to use your loved ones against you, though. Classic villain move, though. Our world isn't perfect, but its imperfections is what makes it beautiful."

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    "I imagine he'd offer you a world where you could be with Mystique without all of the turmoil and pain the Brotherhood's had to go through," Jon notes. "But... ultimately none of us would exist, not as we are. I exist, to some degree, because of the Archive, and the Archive wouldn't be /needed/ in that world. You wouldn't be Jewish, because there wasn't really religion at all..." He shakes his head. "It was an image of what he /thinks/ it would be like. He doesn't actually know any more than we do."

    He sighs. "He... wasn't using them against me, though, that's the thing. He thought I'd be happy. And... and I /was/. I... how many times have I wished for one more day, one more /hour/ with Lyra? For a chance to say goodbye, and I'm sorry? I... gods, it was so tempting, to stay. But I could hear Cael, at the tree, and Martin praying for me. And I knew it... wasn't true."

    He frowns down at the muffin. "He's terribly alone, Lydia. God turned Their back on him and the other archangels... to focus on us. On mortals." He snorts, and shakes his head. "Or, that's how Michael sees it. He's like a child that's been abandoned. He did everything right, and his creation's still falling apart, and he's... /desperate/ for someone to come in and tell him what to do. How to fix it all. The trouble is that he doesn't see any of /us/ as enough of an authority to actually tell him what to do."

Lydia Dietrich has posed:
    Lydia watches Jon sadly. "It takes a measure of strength to turn away from something like that for the truth. A lesser man would have stayed." The kettle is finished boiling the water so she pours it into the teapot and sets the infuser in it.

    "Did They?" she asks, quietly. "Did They abandon the angels in favor of us? Does God really care one way or another about these kinds of things?" She studies her feet for a moment. "I think God is too big to care. I think it's like.... each universe is like a cell in God's body. Sure you care about your body as a whole, but you don't worry about each individual cell. And the people aren't cells. They're the mitochondria. Most of the time you don't even /think/ about them."

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    "I am... becoming an avatar of Ma'at," Jon says softly, watching Lydia make the tea. "I proved myself to her, with that. I'm finding it harder and harder to lie, or to let lies stand. I used to be able to accept people's self-deceptions and now I just... get frustrated about it." He shakes his head. "It would've happened regardless, evidently, she chose me a long time ago. This all just... accelerated the process."

    He huffs out a long breath. "Generally speaking? That's how it is, so far as I can tell. I... I /saw/ the Presence, through Michael's eyes. They're... /so/ big. But... but They're also..." He chews on his lip. "We are God. You and I are God. This room is God, this /planet/ is..." He shakes his head. "And yet, we're not? We're... part of it, but separate. So it's like... you and I, caring about each other, that's... God caring about Themself, but..."

    He stops, and makes a noise of frustration. "Ugh! It's /so/ hard to explain. And it's entirely possible I don't even have it right. But the thing of it is that Michael is... Michael is God's /child/, directly. Michael was created to be a companion to God, and then Lucifer, and then the other archangels, if I'm understanding correctly. It was only later than Michael--or multiple Michaels, I suppose?--was given the task of creating a universe, with Lucifer. And they were mostly left to their own devices. When Lucifer rebelled... Michael had to strike down his beloved brother, and take the Demiurgic Force from him. Michael has /far/ too much power. And then, well... and then the universe is flawed, and Michael doesn't know /why/. He keeps trying to fix the problem, and it keeps coming back. And the Presence, God... isn't giving him /any/ help. Isn't paying attention, at all."

    He shakes his head. "The thing is... God /used/ to pay direct attention to Michael. That's why Michael was originally created. To be a sounding board for God's ideas. It's quite literally like a parent deciding they're bored of being a parent and ignoring their child. Michael feels abandoned and betrayed /by God/, and yet he's still doing what he thinks he's supposed to do."

Lydia Dietrich has posed:
    "Mmm," Lydia grunts thoughtfully. She checks the tea, and finding it acceptable pours them both a cup. "An avatar of Ma'at. I seem to be surrounding myself with avatars. You, Phoebe, Meggan." She holds her cup, cupping it with both her hands to savor it's warmth. It's the same ritual as always. Hold the cup. Breathe in its scent. Take a sip. "The power you all wield is staggering if you think about it. At times I'm envious," she admits. "But then I think about the responsibilities that come with it and the price that must be paid and I think I'm okay with where I'm at."

    "I get what you're saying. I think Buddhism is like that?" She shakes her head. "Regardless, for me, the God that I grew up with, that I learned about in the Torah doesn't exist. I don't know how I can stay religious after that. At least, not in the traditional way." She studies the tea in the cup, watching the tiny little particulates float amongst the brown liquid. "I'm probably going to start worshipping Isis. She's something I can understand, somebody I vibe with. We're on the same wavelength. It's like..." She looks up and tosses some of her hair out of her eyes. "She /has/ a wavelength, whereas God is /all/ wavelengths."

    She listens as Jon explains Michael's experience as best as he can parse it, pursing her lips thoughtfully. "Michael has a purpose, and he's staying true to it. I feel... bad for him." She lets out a little laugh, "I know I'm not supposed to feel bad for the being who took your arm, tortured your lover and is threatening to erase existence as we know it. But I do." She lets out a little sigh, recalling Gabriel's words to her. "Compassion and balance..."

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon blinks and tilts his head. "What are Phoebe and Meggan avatars of? I mean... well, I suspect Phoebe is an avatar of Heka, in a way, but it's not... mmm. Not /quite/ the same. This is more Ma'at and me directly... her imbuing me with her power, merging into me. It's... well, honestly, it's a little strange, she hasn't had an avatar since before the Pharoahs."

    He puts down the muffin to take the cup of tea. "It's a lot like Buddhism, what I'm trying to explain, yes. Or maybe Hindu thought. Which isn't incompatible with my own religion, really. Gaea and the gods of Egypt, they're just... lower on the cosmological scale, and therefore more able to pay attention to us."

    He smiles at Lydia, a little sadly. "Honestly... so do I. Feel bad for Michael, I mean. I even offered him comfort, after he gave me his statement." He frowns. "He... hit me, in response. He didn't want my comfort, or my pity. He's throwing a tantrum, and I always feel a little bad for children throwing tantrums. They're overwhelmed, they don't know how to get what they want in the proper way--or they're dealing with not getting what they want at all. But that doesn't mean you just let them scream or give them something dangerous."

Lydia Dietrich has posed:
    "Phoebe and Meggan aren't necessarily an avatar of /whom/ but of /what/. Phoebe's the Light, and Meggan is... nature, I think? That doesn't feel quite right, but it's close."

    Lydia nods in agreement. "Lower on the cosmological scale. Exactly." She bites her lower lip, dragging it against a retracted fang. "This isn't to say that I'm going to stop being Jewish. I don't think I could do that even if I wanted to. It's as much a culture and ethnicity as it is a religion. Though, if I were to do this, I /would/ be breaking the second commandment."

    She suddenly bursts out laughing as a thought occurs to her. "Michael needs a time out!"

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    "I mean, I didn't stop being English just because I left England. I didn't stop being English just because I call myself a New Yorker now, either. Identity is a complicated thing." Jon sighs, takes a sip of tea.

    Then he smirks. "I /did/ tell Michael I'm going to sit him down in a corner and teach him to express his anger properly. Gaea chose a parent more than anything else. The question is what it will take for him to /listen/ to me."

    He swirls the tea around in the mug a bit. "Isis is a good choice, though. I'm not as close to her as to others, but she's... kind, and strong. I'm glad she gave you the information you needed, for this whole... Duat business."

Lydia Dietrich has posed:
    "It is at that," Lydia says. "Having said that I don't know if I'm going to keep kosher." She lets out a little chuckle, "though the question of whether or not subsisting on human blood is kosher to begin with is a theological debate. Maybe I'll try a bacon double cheeseburger," she muses with amusement. "Or chicken carbonara." She lets out a sigh, though. "I only wish I could enjoy them the same way as if I were human."

    She contemplates, for a moment, how to get a being, who is perhaps the second most powerful being in the universe, to listen to a mere mortal. "Listen to what he wants, and try to appeal to that, I would think," she ventures. I don't know. I've only dealt with children who's had temper tantrums, not adults, much less archangels."

    The mention of Isis brings her hand to the ankh pendant that always hangs around her neck. "I'm glad she did, too. We would have been lost without it. I just wish that there was some way to perform the ritual without having to eat a live beetle."

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    "I have," Jon says. "I did. I think it's more about... positioning? Like, Michael doesn't listen to me because he doesn't respect me, because I'm... not in the right position? And I think whatever I'm going through is going to... change that. I hope so, anyway. I don't know how else this... works."

    He frowns, and takes a drink of the tea, then picks up the muffin again and nibbles at it. "I've been really focused on food lately. Bacon double cheeseburger sounds lovely, as does chicken carbonara." A pause. "I ate some insects, while I was in the desert. Beetles, even. They're not too bad, really--but, then, being /really/ hungry is the best sauce, as they say."

Lydia Dietrich has posed:
    Lydia takes another delicate sip of her tea and nods. "That makes sense," she says. "He'll need to see you coming from a position of authority of some kind." She lets out a little frustrated huff, "I really wish they could just /tell us/ what it is that we're supposed to be doing instead of just running around blindly making it up as we go along."

    "I know what you mean," she says. "Blood is... euphoric for me. After I drained myself for the ritual blood was my /everything/." She winces, "They had to pry me off of three people before I had the sanity enough to keep my hunger in check. You're lucky that you don't turn into a ravening monster when you're starved."

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    "Actually, people get... weird about food when they're starving. It starts to consume your every thought, you do weird little rituals for all the food you /do/ eat. It's a well-documented phenomenon in people who have eating disorders, or people on restricted diets due to injury or illness." Jon shakes his head. "And then on top of that, eating too much too fast can lead to electrolyte imbalance that can kill people. I'm still happier, almost, to be /eating/ than to be home with my family, but because I can't just eat whatever I want yet I'm still... obsessing over everything I /want/ to eat. It makes sense--you get hungry, and your body pushes you to get food however you can. Same for a normal human as for a vampire."

    He peers down at the muffin. "I had a few windfalls--oases where I was able to catch a bunch of fish and gather fruit. Toward the end, I'd lay out /all/ the food I had, and separate it into portions--the same size every time--and then put my current meal on a plantain leaf, and eat a bite at a time, very /very/ slowly, with a sip of water after each bite, to try to trick myself into believing I had more food than I did. As time went on I started chewing each bite seven times, because... I don't even remember why. I think I thought it was lucky?" He shakes his head. "I was skimming dehydration part of the time, too, so I was... not well."

    A pause. "I'm still not well, I suppose. But at least I can just... /eat/."

Lydia Dietrich has posed:
    "Really?" Lydia asks fascinated. "I didn't know. I mean, it makes a sort of sense that when you're body is starving that it kind of takes over your thought process to help you survive." She looks at her tea and scowls. It's lukewarm now. She hovers a hand over it and an amber glow surrounds it and soon steam starts wafting up from it again. "Still. You didn't become something so dangerous that they had to strap you down lest you'd feed on anybody within arms reach."

    She gives Jon a sympathetic smile. "Not well, no. But getting better, and recovering." She rests a hand on his good shoulder and gives it a squeeze. "Just hang in there. You'll make it."

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    "Just in time to die, eh?" Jon smirks, but there's a bitter undercurrent to his tone. Lydia was around for him and Cael yelling at each other; he's probably not doing nearly as well, emotionally, as he's letting on. Of course, he's also not directly pretending to be okay, so much as not spewing that bitterness and frustration at Lydia, since she /is/ visiting.

    "Who knows," he muses. "Maybe that'll just... jump me past all the need to deal with all of this and I'll be... fine, after." He shrugs. "After that, maybe all this won't seem so... bad."

    He frowns. "I gave a lot of thought to... I don't know. Giving up my practice, at least? I don't know that I can just quit being Archivist, as tempting as the thought of retiring from everything is beginning to sound. I'm /exhausted/, and it's not as if I've been doing this for very long."

Lydia Dietrich has posed:
    Lydia blows out a breath, "Yeah. Just in time for you to die. I wish there was another way. I really do. The best we can do is prepare you for it and be there and hope nothing goes wrong." She rubs the bridge of her nose as she mutters, "and there's /so/ much that can go wrong."

    "Coming back from the dead is no small thing," Lydia says, taking a sip of her tea. "It changes you. Sometimes for the better, sometimes for the worse, but whichever, the experience leaves its mark. I wish I could tell you what happened after I died, but... I don't remember anything. I know /something/ happened but..." she shakes her head. "At this point in time I wouldn't have put it past them for one of the archangels, Gabriel, maybe, to have been there to make sure I stuck around long enough to be turned." She lets out a bitter chuckle, "After all, they all set it up so that you had to die. Why couldn't they have set it up so I had to return as a vampire?"

    "This fight has taken a lot out of us," Lydia says gently. "You most of all. When this is done... when you're back and the universe is safe... you need to take a break. Spend time with your loved ones. /After/ that, think about your future."

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    "The thing is," Jon says slowly, "I don't think they had /me/ selected out ahead of time at all. Ma'at would have taken the chance whenever I got close to dying--she appeared to me when I was captured by the vampires and all--but the archangels? Aside from Uriel, they didn't know nor care about me until Gaea chose me... and She didn't choose me until early December. Uriel might have had plans for me as Archivist, but that's not... the same thing. Whatever those plans were, they might be moot, now."

    He regards Lydia thoughtfully for a moment. "But I know you've said you think your becoming a vampire was fated... so maybe your part to play in this was selected before mine. Or maybe not; I know the important thing in this business has been /choice/. Gaea tapped me because of choices I made; perhaps Gabriel tapped you because of choices /you/ made. I really don't know. I just know that... I know that the game was set up ahead of time but the /players/ weren't, aside from Michael. If that makes any sense. Like having a script but not having cast the parts yet."

    He smiles. "I'm taking a break. Cael's been rather insistent. A ski trip, evidently? Not /precisely/ what I'd choose, but it /does/ hit the requirements for everyone involved. Something action-oriented to do, plenty of chance to sit by a warm fire and talk, good food, good views. And admittedly it's been a while since I went to Europe. Not since, oh lord... standard uni backpacking trips? We really do that, you know, just swan off to Europe on holiday." He smirks.

Lydia Dietrich has posed:
    "I see." Lydia says, shaking her head. "You're far more in the loop than I am. The archangels tell you what's going on. I just got a pep talk and a vague vision that I misinterpreted." She sighs and sets her mug down on the counter. "What happened to me wasn't done through any choices that I had made. It would have happened /regardless/ of what I had done. I was targeted because I'm the last known heir of a three thousand year old vampire Pharaoh and not because of anything that I had /done/."

    She shrugs. "Whatever. Regardless of why, it's done now."

    That hangs in the air for a moment before she changes gears. "Mystique and I are going to go out to Paris, I think. Or someplace equally romantic. Spend some quality time with each other. This whole thing have eaten up our whole lives that we need a chance to just be... us for a while without any pressure."

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    "Uriel tells me what's going on because he agreed to spy for me," Jon says with a shrug. "I call for him from time to time and get information. You probably could too, if you wanted... but admittedly I don't know how much any of them would tell you, because I don't know how much any of them /know/ aside from Uriel. He's the one with the plan."

    He hesitates, then adds, "Your vision... it was /really/ important, you know. /You/ defeated Michael... it was just that the Metatron did something Uriel didn't expect. Without your Seal, we couldn't have gotten the angels to leave Manhattan. I would have tried turning myself over, as a last, desperate gambit, but it wouldn't have worked, I know that now. So even if it didn't do precisely what you thought it would, it /did/ work, and it /did/ save us. I'm... really very grateful. All I did was convince Michael to wrest control back from Metatron, and bargain for the key that will let us travel to the Astral Plane to finish this. And we'll be in a /much/ better position, once we're there. Michael can manipulate the place, but so can we... and we're /far/ more imaginative than he is."

    He smiles. "Paris is lovely. I went there with my first girlfriend, attempting that sort of romantic holiday." He smirks. "It... didn't exactly work out, but that's because /we/ didn't work. I can vouch that it's a beautiful city, though."

    A sigh. "I want to take Agnes to Quito at Midsummer, it's the highest city in the world so on that day it's the closest to the sun you can get. I think she'd like that. Wouldn't have enough action for Cael, though we /did/ fight the ghost of a conquistador while we were there."

Lydia Dietrich has posed:
    "I think, on some level, Michael /wants/ us to win," Lydia muses. "Maybe not consciously, mind you, but I think part of him wants us to succeed because that would prove that his creation wasn't as flawed as he thinks it was. Otherwise, why give us this chance?" She sets her mug down and folds her arms, giving Jon something of a wry grin, "I'm sure that if he wanted to, he could probably suss out that he's got a spy, and that same part of him is being willfully ignorant." She shrugs, "Or I may be giving him too much credit. Despite the many horrible things that he's done, for some reason I have a hard time seeing him as the bad guy. Terribly misguided, sure. But not /bad/ per se."

    Onto the subject of Paris, "I think one night I'm going to sneak out and fly Mystique to the top of the Eiffel Tower. I've taking her flying before around New York, and she loved it. I think going around Paris in the air would be romantic."

    She's silent as Jon explains where he's going to take Agnes. "God. I wish I could see that. I mean, I /could/ but I'd be miserable." The sadness in her voice is palpable.

    "When this is done," she says, "When this is over and we've got breathing room and after we've taken our respective vacations, I'm going to hold a ceremony where I do a ritualistic burning of the past. I need to... let go of things that I'm still clinging onto. Like the sun. I need to move on. You're invited to participate."

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon listens quietly, nodding to Lydia's comment about Michael and murmuring, "I don't know if 'bad guys' really exist, if I'm being honest. Not... irredeemable ones, at any rate." Smiles about Paris. And then, finally, sets down the muffin and takes a step or two to reach out and take Lydia's hand and clasp it firmly.

    "I would be honored to be there for your ceremony," he says. "Letting go is... hard, but often necessary. You died, but you're still alive... and little pieces of people die every day. Accepting that, moving on, it's... well. As a therapist, I approve. And like I said, as your friend I would be honored to participate."

Lydia Dietrich has posed:
    Lydia scowls. "I disagree. Speaking as a mutant /and/ a Jew, there are plenty of people out there that I would consider irredeemable. Many of the Nazis, the Magistrates, the people performing human experimentation on nonconsenting adults and children." There's a little growl in her voice, "I've /seen/ what these people can do, and they do it with a clear conscience. A quarter of my family tree was wiped out in World War II. Never again."

    She sighs, and reigns herself in, pinching the bridge of her nose. "But I think that there are more redeemable ones than not, and that in general, you should give people a chance." She looks up and chuckles, "I mean, look at who I'm engaged to."

    Lydia takes Jon's hand and clasps in her own and nods. "I'm kind of alive. They call it 'undeath' for a reason. Maybe we should call it realive instead?" she chuckles. "When I have a date I'll let you know. You're welcome to bring things you want to let go of too."

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    "Would any of those people have bothered /trying/ to be redeemed? I very much doubt it." Jon shakes his head. "Nor would you or anyone else have any obligation to forgive them if they actually tried to make amends. How much would one have to do, to balance the scales? Be reborn to an entire life of service, I would think. Perhaps multiple such rebirths. I suppose I just feel like that's what separates out true evil--not even a willingness to /try/ to fix anything, to /try/ to make amends. But that's what a person /does/, not who they /are/."

    He glances down at their hands. "I mean, I hardly speak in hypotheticals. All trace of my ancestry has been wiped from my name, from my voice. I needn't even go to Egypt or India to speak of atrocities my homeland carried out on my own ancestors; my father's mother was Irish. I have the memories of a long, long line of Archivists who... sometimes went along with terrible things, sometimes fought against them, but always had to bear witness. That's part of what we are. I carry the names and lives of the dead, so they will be remembered."

    He sighs. "I just mean... I've had to spend a lot of time defending the Justice League Dark lately. Pushing back against the idea that anyone who uses demonic power is inherently evil. Saying it's not the /source/ of the power, it's what you /do/ with that power. I've been thinking a lot about... whether I can ever forgive Michael, for what he's done. For what he's done to /me/, personally, as well as others. Thinking about good and evil. About whether it's ever right to condemn a soul to /eternal/ torment. I used to think it was better, that Ammit consumed those souls... but now? To not given them a chance to ever, /ever/ bring themselves back into balance? Eternity is a /very/ long time."

    A wry smile. "I'll think about it. I have to figure out what I need to let go of. I /want/ to say 'my anger at Michael' but some part of me thinks it's justified. I just... I'm so used to anger being... wrong, you know?"

Lydia Dietrich has posed:
    Lydia nods in agreement. "Yes, evil is what a person does. They may not start out as evil, but their sins accumulate and turns their hearts black. If you want to talk metaphysical, then yes, people /can/ be redeemed in the afterlife." She picks up her mug, and takes a sip of tea. "Jews don't really believe in a hell. At least not conventionally so. If anything, it'd be a kind of purgatory where souls go to work out and cleanse themselves of the sins that they've accumulated in life. For some... that will take a /very/ long time. No soul is consigned to eternal torment or oblivion, though."

    She chuckles, "I don't think I can give up that belief in favor of the Duat. I don't know," she says, watching her finger run along the edge of the mug. "I'm still conflicted over this faith thing. Maybe by the time this is done I'll have a clearer understanding of my own heart."

    She looks back up at Jon and shakes her head. "Anger can /absolutely/ be justified. /Especially/ anger against injustice," she says, the edge of anger in her voice. "And what Michael did to you was far from just. Taking your arm for what you did to his wing... forty lashes for... I don't even know what, and just /abandoning/ you in the desert. The punishment far outstrips the crime."

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    "That wasn't even the worst of it," Jon says with a frown. He pulls away, to pick up his tea; it's comforting, even just to hold the mug. "The world he showed me... my daughter was alive. Not Agnes, Lyra. Martin's daughter, really, but I adopted her. I... I had to walk away from her. From /all/ of them, but it was worst of all looking into Lyra's eyes and telling her she was dead. I comforted that girl when she had nightmares, I helped her with her homework, I made soup when she was sick... I held her when she died." He blinks away tears. "And I had to walk away from her, and it hurt worse than anything I've ever done in my life. It was like watching her die all over again."

    He sniffles, and shakes his head. "Sorry, it's just... ummm..." He takes a sip of the tea, letting tears fall since he doesn't have another hand to wipe them away with.

    He deliberately shifts topics, saying, "I quite obviously am abandoning other beliefs in favor of Duat. Though it's hardly incompatible... I think it's possible different people go different places? Which means Martin and I... aren't going to the same place." He sighs. "Nor Cael, I suppose. Hardly seems fair. Or maybe we all go through different mechanisms to get to the same place...?" He frowns a moment, considering that. Then shakes his head.

    "People have evidently been to Duat before, though, recently. Phoebe had her heart weighed. So I know it exists, and I serve the gods of Kemet, and... I've done my best to convince the world I'm a Pharoah so I can go the route of Ra and be reborn." He smirks. "I suppose we'll see if it worked. I have this theory that the Pharoahs--at least some of them--may have been something akin to what we might call superheroes. Not quite human yet not divine, a bridge between worlds... larger than life, defeating foes and unifying the land... I don't know that it fits /me/ precisely, but it's..." He huffs. "Well, I have to do /something/ to not just wind up in Heliopolis."

Lydia Dietrich has posed:
    When the tears start falling, Lydia silently steps up to Jon and embraces him. Her body may be cold, but the warmth of her love for him radiates from her. "I can't imagine how hard that must have been," she says. "That's just... cruel, and tortuous."

    She breaks the hug when Jon changes subjects, going back to leaning against the counter. She chuckles, "Hatshepsut was a mutant, so that leads some credence to your theory. She's able to absorb and mimic magical power, which is part of the reason why the Irappu wanted her. It feels... right that I'm following in her footsteps, some. I may not be a pharaoh, but I /am/ helping unite our peoples."

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon accepts the hug, and even manages to smile. Then he considers Lydia's words about Hatshepsut for a long moment. "Mutants, some of the last homo magi... both are human yet not, superior to normal humans--it's right there in the name, for mutants." He smirks briefly.

    Then, "I'd like to meet her some time, I think. Hatshepsut, I mean. Not to... unveil her truth to the world, per se, I'm just... /terribly/ curious."

    He shakes himself. "At any rate... I /think/ I'm on track to be... close enough? Agnes helps, with the power of Sekhmet, since she's Ra's daughter. I've led troops in battle, defeated my foes, united disparate peoples. That, and the fact that the Pharoah was the one who spoke ma'at--the closest thing she had to an avatar--/should/ be enough. I'm hoping. If it isn't..."

    He makes a face. "If it isn't, then once I'm in the Hall of Judgement and I've had my heart weighed, I'll just jump on the next passing barque and hightail it out of there." A grin. "Admittedly that was my initial plan."

Lydia Dietrich has posed:
    "I'll see what I can do," Lydia says with a chuckle. "I'm sure she'd be eager to meet with an avatar of Ma'at. She's kind, at least she is to me and my coven. She's strong. She has to be in order to survive three millennia and numerous assassination attempts. She's seen so much history it's..." she shakes her head. "Staggering."

    Lydia laughs, "Not if we throw you onto the barque first. We've got your back on this. Whatever you need we'll be there to make sure you come back."

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon nods. "First, though... we have to fix the universe. That's the most important part of all of this, whether or not I come back. Cael's been trying to get the other Champions on board, which I appreciate. I don't know that I'm up for... going out and visiting people, just yet."

    He sighs after finishing off his tea. "Which... admittedly, I'm... starting to get tired. I'm very glad you came, but I think I need..." A pause. "Another muffin, I think. Maybe some clotted cream. And then to rest, even if I don't sleep."

Lydia Dietrich has posed:
    Lydia nods, and pushes herself up off the counter. "I'll see myself out, then," she says gently. "And get some rest. There's still a lot of work to do, and we need to take care of ourselves during this downtime so that we can be at our best when the time comes for action."

    She leans forward and gives Jon another hug. "Have a good night." And on that note, she turns to leave.