12280/15 Fears: The Heart of the Spiritual

15 Fears: The Heart of the Spiritual
Date of Scene:	01 August 2022
Location:	The Astral Plane
Synopsis:	Jon manages to escape Hell and finds himself deep within the Astral. A chance meeting with a fairy princess and a ship that travels the river of imagination gives him a way to start his trek home.
Cast of Characters:	Jonathan Sims, Chas Chandler

---

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    While it would surely be amusing to recount the various ways the demons of the Second Circle of Hell try to seduce the Archivist, it would be repetitive in some places and far from PG-rated in others. Suffice it to say--they try, with varying degrees of subtlety, and as time goes on Jon starts to exaggerate his obliviousness, playing into the antics in the matter of a high farce. Nothing ever really works, but at least he and Mammon are able to have some good laughs after the fact.

    He /does/ use the time to talk, and work through his traumas, and if demons are not necessarily the most /compassionate/ sorts, there's a certain usefulness to 'why does that even bother you?' The fact that all of those who /forced/ themselves on others are in lower circles--in the Seventh, particularly--does a lot to help him feel better. What was done to him wasn't about /sex/ so much as /violence/. Power and control. It helps him categorize the experience, and the pain.

    But then a year has come and gone, and Jon sets out on the journey beyond the Gates of Hell, carrying supplies given by grateful admirers from Mammon's Court. (That he /has/ grateful admirers is--weird, but he's getting used to the idea.) Limbo is surprisingly empty, housing not those who went unbaptized, but merely those who paid no more than lip service to their faith without performing any other sins great enough to warrant time within the Circles. What it amounts to for those wandering the plain is that they have to decide whether or not they believe, and thus wind up somewhere else.

    It takes him a day. or two to cross, and then he's in the dark wood. The butterfly that's been appearing to him periodically shows up again to guide him through, and within another day he's on the other side of the wood, standing on a slope down to the banks of a river that disappears downstream into an impossible distance--but upstream, very clearly tumbles down from a mountain that rises tall above all around it, a mountain covered in the domes and spires of a shining city.

    They can /feel/ the difference as they leave the wood, the subtle shift that tells them that they're in the Astral Plane. For a moment, they focus on the Archive--but find that it's still vaguely cut off. They pull their staff off their belt, raise their arms, try to open a portal--but no such luck.

    "Fine," they huff. "/Fine/. Whoever it is that's forcing me to go the long way--I have strenuous objections and will have /stern/ words for you should we ever meet. Ass." Another huff. "But, alright. Where to, then?" They actually look around for that blue butterfly.

Chas Chandler has posed:
    The blue butterfly is nowhere to be seen. But their eyes do catch on a butterfly. Or more importantly a pair of butterfly wings. They flutter in silver and gold on the back of a youthful looking firl in a flowery white gown. She's flying and apprears to be in some distress, waving her hands frantically at something shrouded by the mists of the great river. "Wait!" she calls. "Wait for me!"

    It's not the blue butterfly, but who says that Jon's guide has to be blue anyway? The symbolism is similar enough that he might feel a draw, a tug, to aid the girl in her plight, if he can. A gust of wind disperses the fog on the riverbank and Jon can see the object of her quest. A boat is just leaving a dock. It's relatively small, only a single mast and not terribly deep in the hold but it is a ship. It might not be only the girl who needs to catch it.

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    The butterfly may not be blue, but if those wings are the only ones in view, there's not much harm in following. Besides, he's seen glimpses of a river from the walls of the Velvet Room before--who's to say this isn't the same river? Going downstream might well help him get home.

    "I'll stop the boat!" he calls as he launches himself into the air. He can fly far faster than her, his own wings meant for much harsher conditions and faster movement than that of a butterfly. Plus, he moves mostly by speed of will. So it is that he /zooms/ on past the butterfly-winged girl, darting down the bank toward the boat and banking hard before coming to a halt within view of whoever's at the tiller.

    "You've got a passenger trying to catch up!" he says. "Well. I'm presuming you /take/ passengers. What's the cost for a trip downriver?"

Chas Chandler has posed:
    The Captain, is an ethereal looking creature in 17th century garb. He looks up at the flying Jon. "The price? For you? One dream." He looks over the side and calls out a command to the creature manning the sails, a hulking man in similar garb but fit more for a deckhand of that era. The ogre of a man pulls on a cord that reels the sails and the Captain turns the till over to slow the ship enough to allow the young girl to make it to the deck after a few moments.

    She's out of breath and heaving but she looks up at the Captain and nods. "Thank you, Captain. I apologize for my tardiness. I was delayed by business in the city." Jon can feel the hint of a lie in the words even if not an outright falsification. There was more to her delay than just whatever business she had in the city.

    The Captain inclines his head. "No worry, lass. And it's not me you should thank." He nods to the hovering Jon. "If this man hadn't alerted me I would've gone on down river and you'd no chance of catching up. Speaking of, you wanting passage or planning on flying wherever you're going?" he asks the hovering Jon.

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    "I think I can spare a dream," Jon says with a bright smile. He goes ahead and alights on the deck, looking around the boat and then focusing on the Captain. He bows slightly. "Thank you for the help. I... honestly have no idea how far I have to go," he admits.

    Then he turns to look to the girl. "It's no trouble to help out--it's good I happened along when I did. I am Jonathan Sims, the Archivist." Another slight bow. "Where are you bound?"

    He reaches back to pull off his backpack, looking around for somewhere to sit. He's been walking for a few days, some rest will be nice.

Chas Chandler has posed:
    There are a few benches set along the deck of the ship and a small number of other passengers as well. All look to be animal-like in some way. Fauns, centaurs, even a minotaur is among their number. The girl looks around and notes an empty bench, gesturing for the pair to take a rest on it. "I am called Lily by the people of the Great City, Jonathan Sims the Archivist. A pleasure to make your acquaintence." She chuckles. "I only wish it were under less distressing circumstances."

    Once settled, her wings disappear as she sits phasing into dusting of golden and silver glitter that floats away on the wake of the ship. "I am heading downriver. Where I stop... we will have to see. Fortune guides my steps on this trip. Yourself? I don't think I've seen you in the Great City before. I would expect someone of such color to stand out rather dramatically in there."

    She may look only slightly older than his daughter, but something about her bearing and speech place her as older than thirteen or fourteen. Much older.

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    "Just 'Jon' is fine. Or 'Archivist.'" Jon smiles as he settles on the bench, dismissing his own wings in a faint puff of teal light. "I've never been to the Great City. I didn't even know it existed. I'm a mortal--well." A pause. "I suppose I /was/ a mortal. I'm the avatar of the goddess Ma'at. I just got out of a journey through Hell. Dante-style, though I went in the opposite direction." He grins for a moment.

    "I'm heading home. It's been... years." There's wistfulness in his tone, pain. "I... I /should/ be able to just go to the Archive, or make a portal, but something--or someone--seems to have decided I need to take the long way home." He sighs, and shakes his head.

    "Do you live in the Great City, then? Striking out to find your fortune?" A chuckle. "Or are you also heading home? Or somewhere else entirely?"

Chas Chandler has posed:
    The girl watches and listens as Jon explains his situation. When he is done she nods in understanding. "The Italian was aware but had to cope with things and ideas he could not truly understand and needed to fit his own dogma" she replies in a soft but confident tone. "It was likely enough to drive him insane, but his work allowed people a glimpse into things that few mortals get a chance to truly see... at least with a sane mind. A cautionary tale that."

    She blinks at Jon. "Ma'at has not had an avatar is some time... you must be very honored. The Archive?" she asks, blinking at him some more. "The repository for all collected human knowledge passed down from parent to child since the inception of civilization? You are the current... Archivist. Oh! I did not put it together." She smiles pleased. "The honor then is mine."

    She pauses before answering his questions. "I... am heading home. I went to look into something that is my responsibility--or the responsibility of my master--in the City. But I had to collect something before I would be allowed to return. Now that I have it, I can return with my head high."

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    "I am /the/ Archivist," Jon replies with an easy smile. "There will not be another. I've... sort of claimed it for myself. I'm not going to age, and in the unlikely event that something kills me, I'll probably just re-form. As you say, Ma'at hasn't had an avatar for some time, and there is a /great/ deal to do, to put the universe in proper balance. So rather than my daughter or any other descendants having the coin flip chance of surviving the first six months that all Archivists have had... I claimed it for myself, forever."

    A pause. "There's more to it than that, of course, which has to do with alternate universes and soul resonance, but... that's the core of the reasoning."

    He glances toward the city, expression curious. "As I said, I've never heard of the City. What is it like? And what were you looking in on there?" He chuckles. "Forgive my prying; I'm a terribly curious person, much of the time. Don't feel compelled to answer anything you don't wish to answer."

Chas Chandler has posed:
    The girl peers at Jon curiously for a long moment. "I suppose it wouldn't hurt for information on the city to go to the Archive, especially if that is only going to ever be you from now on." She looks back at the mountain growing more distant as the ship travels its course.

    "The City is the beating heart of the Astral plane. I am not sure anyone lives there, permenantly but its population is the Dreamers, the great and noble among the Faerie Courts, and gods and spirits great and small who can no longer walk the lands of those who worship them." She pauses for a moment, then continues. "The source of the river we run is as a wellspring in the heart of the City called the Font of Inspiration. It is the psychic manifestation of the imagination. From the city, and flows down through it to cascade down the mountain into this," she gestures to the river around them.

    "The Great River, that travels the width and breadth of the astral. It is pure imagination. Pure creativity. Pure will. Without it the spiritual world would fade away and humanity would drift into banal mundanity. No more magic. No more gods. No more point to living."

    She turns to look downriver for a time her eyes distant. "My master has a vested interest in the continued flow of the Wellspring. I was ensuring that his interests were unimpeded," she focuses back to Jon and smiles. "They were and currently there was nothing -there- to worry about."

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon listens with eyes slowly growing wider. "That sounds... terribly important," he says, looking out over the river's expanse. "So what you're saying is... this river's watershed is the whole of the Astral Plane?" He laughs, a little breathlessly. "Certainly puts the Amazon to shame, let alone the Nile."

    Their eyes track upriver, back toward the City. For a moment, they seriously consider getting off the boat, heading upriver, and exploring that city. A detour, yes, a delay in getting home, but--

    "Great Dreamers, Faerie Lords, gods and spirits..." There's a kind of longing in his voice. "It must be a marvelous place." But he has to get home. He promised. Still, his eyes don't pull away, drawn to such a fascinating place like magnets.

Chas Chandler has posed:
    "The Astral is much larger than either the South American or the African river basins, Archivist" Lily replies. "It's only natural that the source of its fertility be proportionally as large. But to confirm your suspicion. It is terribly important, thus my task on ensuring it's continued purity."

    She again looks at the City and then to Jon. "As intriguing as it could be, you did say you were going home? Correct? I imagine there are those who are waiting for you? Friends? Loved ones? Allies?"

    To further interrupt Jon's thoughts the ethereal captain approaches them. "I'm here to collect payments from you both. As I told the Archivist" How he knows who Jon is is unclear, but he does. "Price is one dream."

    Lily nods and closes her eyes. She extends a closed fist and then opens it. On her palm in a small shimmering dot. "The dream of girl who wanted to sing forever" she says offering it to the captain. He grunts and takes the shimmering dot. "And you?" he says to the Archivist gruffly.

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    "I suppose it'd be better to bring them to see this with me," Jon says softly. "I mean--it's not like it's /going/ anywhere, right?" Still, there's an undeniable pull from something deep within the Archivist, a pull to explore, and see--and, perhaps, join those gods and spirits in a place where he more rightly fits, now, than the mortal world.

    But he does, indeed, have friends and loved ones waiting for him. So he tears his gaze away from the retreating City, and turns to the Captain. He considers a moment, closes his eyes, then wills a memory of a dream into his fist. He offers out his own shimmering dot and says, "A dream of the Bayt al-Hikmah, the House of Wisdom. Not originally mine, but a powerful dream nonetheless. Acceptable?" He raises his brows at the man.

    It's a dream of the first real statement Jonathan Sims ever took as Archivist, after all. Even if it was from a demon. Maybe all the more powerful, for that.

Chas Chandler has posed:
    The Captain grunts and stuffs both motes into a pouch at his hip. "It'll do" he says before nodding to each of them and heading off toward other passengers. Lily keeps her eyes on the Archivist for a moment and smiles. "That was a very wealthy dream you offered" she says. Something in her expression might tell him that he's earned a measure of her respect for it.

    They lapse into quiet conversation for a time, the moments of silence punctuated by the slow rush of water across the hull of the ship. The day passes peacefully, the ship makes a few stops along the way and passengers come and go.

    On the fourth stop Lily stands. "This is where we part ways, Archivist. I do hope to see you again, it has been a pleasure conversing with you." She extends a hand to them with a polite smile. After exchanging handshakes she departs the vessel and it sets sail once more. After a few more minutes of sail the Captain approaches Jon once more.

    "We're going to be heading downriver for a stretch after the next stop" he says to Jon. "You can depart there if you want but you're welcome to stay on overnight, your payment's good enough for that. But it's your choice."

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon seems happy to talk to Lily, sharing details of his passage through Hell, questioning her about her life and time in the City. He may not get all the answers he wants, but all in all it's a much more pleasant time than he's had in, well... years.

    When she leaves, he shakes her hand with a bright smile and then settles back, looking contemplative. When the Captain comes up to him, he looks up and considers for a moment. "I'll go as far as the payment'll take me. I suspect I have... quite a ways to go." From the 'heart' of the Astral all the way to the waking world? That's a long journey indeed.

    As the Captain walks off, Jon frowns thoughtfully. He's had a desire building since he exited Hell--to record what he's experiencing. He doesn't have a tape recorder, and even if he could easily summon one up here on the Astral plane, he's afraid that he doesn't understand the inner workings of the whole thing well enough to ensure that they remain solid and real on going to the material world.

    After a moment, they smile, and conjure up a leather-bound journal and a fountain pen--one that will never need more ink. Pen in their left hand, journal balanced on their knee, they begin to write down an account of their experiences.

    'Statement of Jonathan Sims, on a conversation with Annabelle Cane on the nature of betrayal and friendship, held in the dark between universes and while crossing Cocytus.'