Owner	Pose
Jonathan Sims	It's early Friday morning when Jon returns to Hell's Kitchen. It's not his first time back in Manhattan since the angels left, but it's his first time /here/. He can sense the angels, in the Astral Plane, congregating. Preparing. The location of the sixth wellspring has been all but broadcast, and it's only a matter of time before they begin that final battle.     Jon comes with coffee and tiramisu this time, Sara Pezzini's aunt having made /so very much/ of the stuff while she was in hospital. Thermos and container of tiramisu both are kept in a messenger bag slung over his left shoulder; it's getting hard to carry things around without magic, and he doesn't really want to advertise his presence to the angels.     He clears the snow off the stage with a bit of fire magic and takes a moment to appreciate that it's easier than he thought it would be. He'd been terrified that losing Gaea's power would reduce him, but it seems he's learned a great deal during his time. He can't cast magic as far and wide as he could--but he has to wonder, how much gaea was truly bolstering him and how much she was just encouraging what he could already do. He sits down on the edge of the stage, pulls out his offerings and sets them down next to him, then sighs.     "Saint Uriel," he calls out, "I need to talk to you. This may be our last chance, before I die."
Chas Chandler	"A dangerous game, you mortals play" comes Uriel's voice from stage left, he is dressed like a 70s era greaser, his wings are barely an illumination of the air behind him. He looks at the offered food and shrugs, moving to sit down.     "You know our Commander is just on the other side of the barrier between worlds maybe 8 blocks from here, right?" he says and gestures to the south, where Michael is surely gathering his advance force. "I mean, surely you couldn't have missed the freaking -castle- that woman decided to spring up from the ground."     He waves a hand dismissively. "Nevermind. What makes you think that you dying is going to be an end to our working relationship, Jonathan? I mean, I'm in contact with all the previous Archivists even now. You dying won't stop us speaking to each other, even -if- yours wasn't a temporary state. But... what can I do for you?"     He eyes the food again and asks, "Oh? Is that Pezinni's tiramisu?" It shouldn't be surprising he is familiar with the family, angels and their great knowledge such as it were.
Jonathan Sims	"If Michael wants to come at me, he's welcome to," Jon says blandly. "What's he going to do, kill me? Dump me in another desert for forty days?" He quirks a brow.     "I want to be certain all my ducks are in a row before I /do/ die. That the Archive won't pass to Agnes, for one--that Phoebe's plan will work--and that I have whatever it is I need to fix the problem in the Underworld. Maybe get a sense of what the game is to become, on the other side of the barrier. Find out if it's you or Michael or sheer coincidence, setting me up to play out the story of Christ--Troia picked that one out, not me."     He sighs, and nudges the container over. "Or maybe I just had too much tiramisu and I wanted to offer you some. Git."
Chas Chandler	Uriel arches a brow. "Jonathan, patience" he says softly at Jon's invitation to the Commander of the Hosts. He pauses and considers the questions posed. "If Chandler's explanation of his daughter's plan is sound... then it should work" he says politely taking the fork and eating a bit of the tirimisu. "Lovely flavor profile, that..." he adds with a smile.     "It's going to put a great strain on Timothy, but if his lifestyle is any indication of his stress level, I doubt he will notice it too much" the archangel continues with a wry smile. "In short, as long as she does everything correctly in a timely manner... your daughter will be safe."
Jonathan Sims	Jon lets out a long sigh. "Good," he says. "It had better be--because if there's /any/ chance the Archive might go to Agnes, you're not going to like the consequences. I'll destroy the whole bloody thing before I force her to deal with that when she isn't ready." He regards Uriel directly, for a moment. "Just to be clear."     That said, he starts pouring coffee. "Alright, well, that's handled, then... and I presume whatever it is I'm supposed to do once I die is already... in the works? Being handled? I'll know what I need to do, when I need to do it?"
Chas Chandler	Uriel's face is -mostly- impassive at Jon's threat. Though the man has interacted with the archangel enough to recognize there is a slight amount of apprehension at the notion of the Archive being destroyed. "Your determination to see your child safe is noted, Jonathan." he says in answer to the threat.     That business out of the way he turns to the next matter of order. "Things, as far as I am aware, are being prepared, yes" he says. "Your encounter with the creature you must deal with in the desert was no accident. She was testing you. Seeing if you were even worty of her time" the Light of God explains.     "From what I hear, you made a positive impression and so she has agreed to let you fix her digestive issue" he replies. "And I have faith that you will figure out the solution to the problem when faced with it directly. Yes. You will have everything you need, that much is already apparent."
Jonathan Sims	Jon blinks at him slowly, very nearly letting the coffee spill. He stops pouring, and shoves the little thermos cup over at Uriel, taking a long drink of coffee straight from the thermos himself.     "She... was testing me? She's agreed to... let us fix her?" He raises a brow. "I... don't suppose that means we won't have to... I don't know, wrestle a crocodile-lion-hippopotamus hybrid?" He sighs, and shakes his head.     "Have I mentioned how much I hate this whole business? Just... the whole bloody lot of it, up and down. Your brother took my /arm/. For good! And doesn't even see that that isn't..." He frowns, and looks away.     "It isn't /fair/," he mutters, obviously upset.
Chas Chandler	Uriel's expression is not unsympathetic. "You're right. It isn't fair. But a child who is first biten by a fly is likely to find and kill the fly with over indulgence if given the means and the opportunity. My brother is very much like a child and you delivered him his first injury... ever." He sighs and looks at the missing appendage. "His overeager retaliation, while regretable is hardly to be entirely unexpected."     He moves on. "As for Ammit. Yes, she was testing you. But don't think her agreement is a replacement for anything resembling pacifism. She is a wild and unchained creature of destruction that even our kind treat with significant respect. She will fight you and whoever you bring to help you with the repairs and she won't be subdued with anything resembling ease." He fixes Jon with a steady gaze, even as the fork enters his mouth once more. "Do not, under any circumstances underestimate her. And see that your allies in the endeavor understand the same."
Jonathan Sims	"/Regrettable/? Is that all you can...?" Jon shakes his head, sharply. "There's no bloody point," he mutters. "It's not like you can change it, now. I just..."     He stares at the wreckage of the Laughing Magician. "I'm angry," he says. "I'm... so angry, and in so much pain, and I don't know if I can... let that go, in time to... do things right. To get my heart weighed. I want to retaliate, /so/ badly, but I don't want to... continue this stupid cycle." He shakes his head, sharply. "And it's not even... yes, it's the arm, but it's also..."     His face crumples. "I reached out to comfort him... and he /hit/ me. I keep... I reach out to people. I try to help them. And they... they lash out. They hurt me. I can't... how do I keep... helping people, when all I'm getting for it is pain and ridicule... or at best, indifference? How... how can I /die/ for a world that's so /cruel/ to people that just want to help?"
Chas Chandler	Uriel's fork pauses while in his mouth and he looks at Jon. "Mortals are truly dangerous indeed," he says softly as he withdraws the fork. "Now you're talking like my brother" he replies with a sad smile. "But, where you and him differ is in the hesitation. You at least want to help people, despite the negative impact you're getting from it. He simply wants to wash it away completely. Small scale versus large scale, I suppose."     He gives Jon that same sad smile. "Jonathan, that you even hesitate to ask that question proves that your heart is lighter than any feather that Ma'at produces to compare. You're compasionate even in the face of ridicule. You're willing to do this... even though you know it costs you your life." He sighs and finishes the tirimisu. "That is more than significant and you should know that is the case without me having to tell you."%
Jonathan Sims	Jon shakes his head. "Who says I'm willing? Haven't I asked, more than once, whether there's another way? Haven't I been trying to come back, been trying to figure out how to make it /temporary/, as you point out? What makes you think I'm willing to die? I don't want to die. If there was /any/ other way, I'd take it--and I'm /still/ trying to figure out if... if there's something, anything..."     He looks away. "What /choice/ do I have? None at all, because I have to die to fix things, and I have to die to become Ma'at's avatar, and..." He shakes his head. "It's not noble or compassionate or... significant. Not when I'm trying /so/ hard to cheat the game. I hate it. I hate every part of it. I hate you for putting me here, and Gaea for choosing me, and your brother for being such a blind stubborn /fool/."     His hand is clenched into a fist, and he glares out across the bar. "It's not /Michael/ that I'm agreeing with. It's Lady Death. Maybe we /should/ just destroy him once and for all and end this whole stupid charade. Maybe even if we /fix/ the universe, it'll be too flawed to go on, too... cruel to be worth saving." His jaw clenches.     "I know I'm being ridiculous," he grumbles, "but I think I'm allowed. I think you ought to know how badly I just want to... to walk away from all of this. You can't possibly need /me/ that badly. You cannot /possibly/ have laid all of this on the... fragile will of a single mortal."
Chas Chandler	"To have free will is to attempt to subvert the game, Jonathan" Uriel replies. "And while I don't fault you for trying to see another way out of this... some things are, at least subtly, preordained. Destined. But your at least asking the right questions..." he says with a slight grin. "So that's something."     He listens and then nods. "She is one that even I don't understand and I know more of her place in this than even she does. But, whether the universe continues isn't really the end goal is it?" he asks. "That you and the others living in this universe are free to decide that fate on your own... -that- is the true end game."     He sighs and nods. "Of course you're allowed some meaure of ridiculousness, Jonathan" he answers and then gives the man an empty look. "Who else would you think I should have laid this on if -not- the 'fragile will of a single mortal?'"
Jonathan Sims	"More than one? Some kind of... I don't know... backup?" Jon shakes his head. "I know we've had this discussion, I just... I don't know. I don't understand, and that... bothers me. And you of all people should understand /why/ it bothers me." He gives Uriel a glare. The Archivist /needs/ to understand, after all. Is driven to understand.     Then he sighs. "/Will/ I understand, eventually? Why I have to die, what the purpose of this whole game is? Because... I think I can manage it all, if I know I'll understand eventually."     He eyes Uriel. "And Troia did bring up a good point--is it mere coincidence, that Michael has me playing out sacrifice and coming back after three days, forty days in the desert, all that kind of thing? /Is/ it coincidence?"
Chas Chandler	Uriel nods. "You will understand it. Towards the end probably" he says. "At least, that is the hope. I trust you are smart enough to figure it out after enough hints and pieces fall into place."     He makes a face at the comparison. "My brother is a great many things. Domineering, aggressive, ignorant of his true Purpose, and vindicitive. On top of all those things... he's a romantic." He sighs. "The journey of the Rabbi is a very... great journey and one we all know too well. To model you, his adversary in such a way is only natural for one whose imagination is... stunted."     Uriel gives Jon a sad expression. "We are not, any of us, a very imaginative species. It comes with who and what we are."
Jonathan Sims	Jon eyes Uriel for a long moment. "I'm sorry," he says finally. "I feel badly for you. Imagination is a wondrous thing. But I suppose it would be dangerous in beings that have such power, hmm? And... perhaps... not really necessary."     He frowns. "...What /is/ his true Purpose, then? Is it what I've guessed at already, that he should be... caretaking and guarding the universe, not running about trying to fight battles? Or is there something else going on?"
Chas Chandler	"You have the gist of it there" Uriel replies. "He is a custodian. His job is to see that the universe remains in good working order to see that threats that would overtake it are not allowed to... and to see that repairs are made when necessary behind the scenes and early enough that they do not grow out of hand."     He sighs. "You've spoken to him about a way back but he is... too stubborn and too headstrong to see it. I think that without a more direct approach, from a hand even mighter than yours, he won't see reason."     He frowns at Jon. "Perhaps once you return, you will be able to get through to him. Or at least devise a way that someone with the word of Our Father on their lips and in their voice might be able to get him to sit still enough to listen."
Jonathan Sims	Jon frowns at Uriel... "Perhaps? You think? Isn't that the point of all of this? A Champion, to make him see reason? To defeat him and become worthy for him to listen to? If not me, then who? I'd welcome the help, but unless it's one of the others already involved... I'll admit I'll be more than a little frustrated, at this point, if I've been made to suffer and /die/ just to... what, set someone else up to succeed? Why aren't /they/ here dealing with all of this, then?"     He tilts his head. "Or are you being vague on purpose?"
Chas Chandler	It's Uriel's turn to glower and he does it with -feeling- behind it. There is a terrible pressure in the glare of the Archangel. "I am being vague because I don't know, Jonathan" he says and a rumble of thunder echoes his words.     "None of this makes sense anymore. I thought perhaps after losing his ability to create his vision of New Israel on Manhattan, he would stop. But he hasn't." He gestures out to the area beyond the ruins of the bar. "He continues to stage his troops for a raid on a foe he has no hope of winning against, for what? Pride?" He shakes his head. "There isn't pride in him... not on this scale. As far as the great machine of the universe is concerned, he's still doing what he is supposed to do... in the most dramatic and overwroght way he can, but nonetheless it is there. He has not Fallen and so he is not outside his purpose."     He sighs and a great deal of the pressure lets up. "And now there is a framework of a stairway at the base of that tree that Lydia managed to create. What it's there for? I don't know. Not yet. It's not tangible, and it can't be interacted with yet... but it's there." He shakes his head. "What I'm trying to say is that I don't know. I want you to be the one to make him see reason in the end. I want you to manage to get him to sit still long enough and -look- at what he is doing wrong... but I don't know. Even if he realizes his problem and manages to understand what he can do to fix it? Let it go. Let mortals and near mortals govern the world that they live it... will -even that- get him to stop this madness?"
Jonathan Sims	Jon stares at Uriel for a long, long moment. Then he laughs. "You... you don't /know/? All this time, all this planning... and things are happening that /you/ don't know about?" He shakes his head. "Well, surely if I haven't /died/ yet then your entire plan hasn't come to fruition yet, hmm?"     He keeps laughing. Shakes his head. "Do you remember when it was pointed out that maybe mortals aren't the ones getting the lesson here?" He quirks a brow at Uriel. "What do you have to learn, oh Great Watcher? What lesson might there be for /you/ in all of this? Might be worth thinking about."     Jon shakes his head. "I can tell you why he stages his troops... because /the game isn't over/. He's not going to /forfeit/, not yet. Maybe he's thinking of battling me to a draw at the least, but no, I doubt that. He still hopes to /win/. And if he doesn't... then he's going to force /me/ into making a proper checkmate. It's only /sporting/."     There's no bitterness in his tone there, at all. He's grinning, actually. "You wanted a game, Saint Uriel. You /have/ a game. A proper one, now, where the players know the stakes and have faced each other down. I should have met with him before he invaded Manhattan, but I was..." He shakes his head. "Stubborn. Foolish. And in far, far too much pain. Raphael's gift worked too late, and the others around me... mmm. Well. No matter. What's done is done."     He sighs, expression sobering. "One last thing... Saint Uriel... do you actually know what your brother wants? His /actual/ goal here?" His expression is curious. "Or are you guessing, much as I was before?"
Chas Chandler	Uriel shakes his head. "I don't. Aside from the Reclaimation that he continues to harp on about, I can't hazard a guess as to his true motivation." He looks out at the dark streets. There are still many who have not returned to Manhattan, either because their homes were damaged or because of fear that the battle is only on pause and not truly over for them. He turns to Jon.     "Do you? Did your time in his presence give you some true insight? Were you able to fully understand at least that much now that you have his statement?" He arches a pale brow at the Archivist, even in his own haughtiness there is humility and worry. Uncertainty at this one point.
Jonathan Sims	"He misses his father," Jon says, quite simply. His expression is sad, and heavy.     He lets it sit there for a moment.     Finally, he says, "He's angry at God. He feels abandoned and alone. He's done everything right, followed every rule to the letter, and his creation is fatally flawed. He doesn't know why, and he's begged for help, and gotten no reply. He was the one who had to hunt down and punish your brother, and he's the one that's been left holding the bag--quite literally. He feels betrayed... and yet, he's not rebelling. He's doing what he thinks he's supposed to do."     He sighs, and shakes his head. "This is God's fault. Not Michael's. Your brother is a lonely child, who's been given far too much responsibility. He feels things he does not understand, he has /far/ too much power, and he's desperate for someone to come along and tell him what to do. People give what they need... and what has Michael been offering? A world where everyone knows God exists, and loves them, where there are struggles but ultimately everything is okay. A child's world, where your parents are infalliable and never leave you alone. Never die on you, and leave you to wonder why. What you did wrong. What was so /bloody/ important at the top of that ladder, in that operating room, that they /left/ you, alone in a world that doesn't make any sense."     Of course he understands Michael. What orphan wouldn't?
Chas Chandler	Uriel listens and is silent for a long moment. Then he lets out a long slow breath. "Then his pain is the same as all of ours and I'm not sure what there is to do to console him." He frowns and looks down. "Getting the attention of Our Father is... all but impossible save for our kind. He has abandoned us all to our own devices."     He looks at Jon and there is the same pain and in him that Jon saw in Michael. Only where Michael's is burning and constant, Uriel's is resigned and accepted. He's given up trying to get God's attention. He stopped trying a -very- long time ago.     "But that is why mortal's should be given the reigns. He listens to you... at least sometimes." He gives the man a wry smile. "He even managed to have a conversation with one of you only a week ago with Suriel's interjection, as is only proper. Something that we haven't seen happen in thosands of years."
Jonathan Sims	"Has it occurred to you that They're not worth your time?" Jon raises a brow. "I mean... They /are/, sure, They /exist/, They're... huge and grand and etcetera. They created you, and Michael created us, and so on, but... that's not what makes a parent. /Love/ is what makes a parent. Attention, and effort. I've seen the Presence, through Michael's eyes... and all that sight did was make me know that Gaea and Ma'at are worthy of my love and affection. Mere /existence/ does not make one worthy."     He reaches out, slowly, to place a hand on Uriel's arm. "You're worth more than that. You all are, even Michael. Maybe you're past the need for a parent... but you have your siblings. You have Gaea. You can create something better, something worthy of you." He smiles. "You created me, and my family. And... I appreciate that, more than I've let on."     He hesitates a moment, then actually leans in to /hug/ the angel. As weird as that might be.     Then he pulls back and frowns curiously. "Someone spoke to the Presence? Who? Why?"
Chas Chandler	Uriel is not as averse as Michael to being touched and wraps his arms around Jon in acceptance and return of the hug. "Perhaps you are right" he says with a smile. "But that is something to figure out -after- we succeed in this endeavor, isn't it?" he asks the man before him.     At Jon's question he chuckles. "It's not for me to say but I imagine you wll find out soon enough. What has transpired hasn't happened for some time and it's surprising that -that- one decided to ask for that honor. Given his track record." He shrugs and gives Jon a mischeivous, knowing grin.
Jonathan Sims	Jon rolls his eyes. "Git. I should've known you wouldn't /tell/ me." He shakes his head as he goes to re-cap the thermos and put it in his messenger bag, then picks up the container and puts it away as well.     "It's never too late or early to start figuring things out. I'm expanding my family in the middle of this endeavor, strange as that is. But it's working out."     He stands, and adjusts the bag over his shoulder. "I suppose I'll see you when it's time to deal with the final wellspring, yes?" He quirks a brow. "Will we have to fight? Michael says you're the only one who can best him hand-to-hand... that doesn't give me much hope for a duel between the two of us."
Chas Chandler	Uriel eyes Jon. "I will have to engage someone, yes. I have waited too long, not to engage without suspicion. Maybe it will be you, maybe it won't. But, my brother does not lie. I am the only one of our family who can best him in single combat."     He watches Jon for a moment. "I will think on what you have said. Maybe -that- is what I need to learn in this? That family is still not outside my own reach, all I need do is... take it."     He smiles. "Farewell, Jonathan. I will see you soon. Of that I am certain." There is a low rumble and the archangel of Light vanishes.