Owner	Pose
Jonathan Sims	The weight of the emerald-encased jewel in Jon's pocket is heavy as he steps through the door hand-in-hand with Cael, back to the physical world. He makes sure the others are alright, that they'll get home okay, with particular worry on his face for Phoebe. He doesn't like the emotions he's picking up from the teenager these days.     But then it's just the two of them. Between both Cael and Phoebe's reactions to Jon's admission, he doesn't feel like going all the way home just yet. So he suggests they visit the tree in Central Park, and they stop to grab a 6-pack at a bodega along the way. Other than those suggestions, Jon's quiet, contemplative. Trying to ignore the weight of the jewel in his pocket.     It's cold and dark by the time they reach the tree, and Jon conjures up a glowing crystal to provide light so he can actually look at it more clearly. "You slept here while I was gone?" he asks, frowning slightly. "It's... so /cold/."
Cael Becker	"I mean... slept is the wrong connotation," Cael answers, looking at the tree with a contemplative look on her features. "But I //stayed// here for a while. I visited it. I... did doze off a few times. And yes, it was cold." They weren't exactly fond memories, but she doesn't shy away from them.     "When you handed yourself over to Michael, I was told you'd be returned here on 'Tuesday morning.' I assumed he meant dawn but- technically it could have been any time after midnight, and I didn't want any chance that you'd return here and not- ...find someone waiting for you. That would have been awful. And then, after you died, I- ... I didn't know where else to go to feel close to you. So I came here again, and stayed that night. ...I didn't really feel the cold, I think."     Freeing her hand from Jon, she offers him a beer, and opens one of her own. She could definitely use a drink as well.
Jonathan Sims	"I'm sorry I've been gone so much," Jon says softly, taking the beer but not opening it just yet. The glowing crystal he lets hover in the air, radiating light and a faint amount of warmth. "I don't... I didn't mean to worry you, with what I said back there."     He pauses, and frowns. "Well, no, that's not... I knew it /would/ worry you. It worries me. That's why I mentioned it. But it's not like I'm /planning/ to run off and help Michael, it's just..."     The frown deepens as he stares at the tree. "He stopped me, and offered a jewel. A Silmaril. I don't know how much you know about that? They held the last light of the Two Trees of Valinor, the last pure light in the world. It's an apt metaphor, for something that holds a piece of Michael's own power. He asked me to join him, to help him... guide the universe."
Cael Becker	"I know," Cael answers quietly. She stands with her shoulder gently touching Jon's arm - but she doesn't lean into him anymore than that. The combat fatigues are covering the bruises that pepper much of a her body after the fight.     "A Silmaril?" It seems she doesn't know much about them at all. She listens for a moment before adding, "What does that mean exactly? Guide the universe?" She shakes her head then adds, "I'm glad you told me. I'm glad you didn't keep something like this from me." Because that would hurt worse - far worse.     "I have worries as well. About this pendant, but I made a promise to myself - and I asked you to make a promise as well."
Jonathan Sims	"The Silmarils are... okay, you know how everyone coveted the One Ring, but possessing it would ultimately destroy you? It's sort of like that, except..." Jon frowns, and finally opens his beer. "Tolkien was rather enamored of a concept called 'sub-creation,' which is to say that God created everything and all creativity anyone does after that is just... fracturing the pure light of the original Creation. So you get these... repetitions of ideas and people, but as less and less powerful reflections."     He takes a swig of beer. "Morgoth, or Melkor, was the original Dark Lord--though he was /actually/ originally... essentially an archangel. One of the elves created these jewels, the Silmaril, that held the light of the Two Trees--the trees that gave off /all/ light in the world. After the Trees were destroyed, the last flower of one became the moon and the last fruit of the other became the sun. But that light was polluted by the poison of this horrible spider-demon, so the last /pure/ light in the world was in the Silmarils."     A sigh. "The thing was that possessing those jewels, putting them in his crown, made the elf that created them jealous and paranoid. Sort of a... metaphor, you know? Not to hoard the fruits of one's creations, because ultimately the creative spark comes from God, not you." He holds up a hand. "I'm not saying I /agree/... I'm saying that's the metaphor, at least so far as most Tolkien scholars agree."     He shakes his head. "Anyway, Morgoth kills people and steals the Silmarils and it leads to wars and strife and bad things. Same idea as the One Ring, ultimately--possessing this object will harm you, greed for it will lead to strife, and so on."     He glances aside at her, smiling wryly. "I don't have to be a telepath to guess what you're thinking. 'Jon, what the /fuck/ does this have to do with you and Michael guiding the universe? Get to the fucking point.'"     He smirks, briefly, and then says, "...The point is that Michael is casting himself... oddly, in these vignettes. He infused the Silmaril he offered with his /own/ power--and then cast himself as one who /stole/ that power. Morgoth could not touch the Silmarils, they burned him as unworthy, but Michael held one in his hand. Morgoth was never the leader of the Ainur the way that Michael is the leader of the archangels--Melkor was far more a Satan figure, bored with the song of creation and always seeking to cause it to be discordant. Michael should probably be Manwe, their leader... but he's /forced/ to portray himself as the villain. It's..." He trails off, frowning, and shakes his head.
Cael Becker	"I'm also thinking 'Tolkien scholars? The fuck?' if that's helpful at all," Cael supplies with a quirk of her lips, before taking another sip of her beer.     She lets out a sigh then adds quietly, "Forced? He's //been a villain.// Maybe not in the same way as in these stories you're talking about. But in a very real, concrete way. He tortured us. He killed you - he meant to kill me. He tried to unmake the world. What do you call that if not a villain?" she points out.
Jonathan Sims	"He's been an antagonist. But irredeemably evil?" Jon shakes his head. "Up until recently, he's been a /child/ throwing a tantrum. Now that he's matured, become capable of growth and change... he's not torturing or killing people. He's just... testing us."     He takes another drink of beer. "He... said something to me, back there, that got me thinking. He said... 'I am bound /as always/ by belief. I have been painted the villain by those of the world and thus I must obey their dreams here in this land.'"     He frowns. "It's... it's not supposed to /be/ like this, Cael. /He's/ not supposed to be like this. I mean... do you know why Martin won't come fight the angels? Why Lydia's been having so much trouble with this?" A pause, and then, "Michael is the /guardian of Israel./ He's supposed to /defend/ humanity. He's supposed to be the champion of the Jewish people, at the very least. And even if you toss that out the window... he created this world, he's supposed to be guiding it, protecting it, that's... that's the thing I need to make him see, and he's /almost/ seen it, it's just... he wants help."     He bites his lip. "It's not that I want to help him, Cael. It's... gods, this is hard to explain. I can't... I don't..." He makes a noise of frustration. "What if that's how I can get him to give up the Demiurgic Force? And what if I /can/ help? I'm an avatar of balance and order now... I fixed the universe... what if I can... keep fixing it?"
Cael Becker	"...and it's not just Michael, in this equation, that worries me," Cael answers in a quiet voice, her gaze going from staring up at the tree, to staring down at its roots.     "What happens to you, if you say yes to that? If you accept that power, and that responisibility. What time will you have, then, for the people who love you? You're already an Avatar of Ma'at - how much would this change you, too? Would you still even be Jonathan Sims anymore, really? And how long does that go on? Doesn't seem like something you do for a short time. Would you even be mortal anymore?     "...and am I just being selfish to have these worries?" she asks quietly.     "I can't help but feel that this is... wrong. That it feels wrong. I don't trust it, Jon."
Jonathan Sims	"I didn't say I was going to do it, Cael," Jon replies with a frown. "I know every reason I shouldn't. What he did to Caitlin is right on the top of the list--can I even trust him? And then there's... he tortured you, he tortured me, he /killed/ me... not to mention, yes, all of that. It would mean leaving behind everything I came back to life for."     He shakes his head. "The thing is... I /do/ know all of that. So if I ever decide to accept his offer... then either something's majorly changed, or I've weighed the pros and cons and decided it's the best move anyway. But... it's not. I /know/ it's not. I spoke in Ma'at's voice when I rejected him. This is not the way."     He looks down at the beer. "But... we both know I'm not always the best at... seeing the way clearly. And we both know Michael's good at getting into people's heads."     His hands tremble for a moment, on the beer can. What is he not saying?
Cael Becker	"I know. I know you didn't. Do you think I'd be even a fraction this... calm and coherent if I thought-" She shakes her head helplessly. "I'm still not well, that'll take a lot more time. And just the thought that this is even - that you'd consider it, that it worries you..." It's a lot.     She looks back to Jon again, studying him before asking softly. "How do I help you? If this isn't something you want to do - if you're afraid this is something he'll //make// you do- how do I protect you from that? Because you know I'd do just about anything."
Jonathan Sims	"Figure out how to ward my dreams?" It slips out like it's something Jon didn't intend to say aloud; he blinks and makes a face, like he'd rather take back the words. He takes another swig of beer and then hunches his shoulders, looking away from her.     After a moment, he says, "He came into my dreams Tuesday night, after Lydia's party." There's no point in trying to keep it from her any longer. "It was... a nightmare, of... of... failing at the labyrinth. G'mork killed everyone in front of me. Injured me so I couldn't move, then /ate/ you, all of you, while I had to watch. It threatened to... keep me alive, to /toy/ with me." He shudders. "Michael 'rescued' me, took me away, cleaned my wounds. Then he laid out his case for why we'd work well together. Laying the groundwork for today, I suppose."     He frowns down at the ground, eyes darting back and forth. "What if he's already getting to me? I... I can't be a liability, Cael, I have to /stop/ him."
Cael Becker	"Your dreams?" Cael repeats quietly, concern - perhaps even a bit of fear leaking into her voice. "Jon?"     She listens to his explination, shifting her grip on her beer so she can take hold of his hand again, watching his face for every little hint at his thoughts. "Were you having a nightmare - and he used it as his opportunity? Or did he //give// you that dream? Does he have to torture you in your sleep now, too?" she asks in an angry voice.     "I... I wish I knew how to keep hm out. Maybe one of the others would - Lydia? Or Phoebe?"     "Or maybe there's a way to join our dreams? So at least he couldn't come at you when you're alone. So there'd be someone else there - to support you. To help you stay... yourself."
Jonathan Sims	"I honestly don't know whether it was my own nightmare or not," Jon says. "It's... the sort of thing I dream about, sometimes. Everything going wrong, everyone dying, me... left alone, at the end, the only survivor." He chuckles weakly. "I mean, story of my life, you know? Hardly surprising. But... I don't know."     His grip on the beer can tightens. "If... if we /joined/ our dreams... he'd just use you against me, Cael. That... that was the worst... in that moment, thinking you were /dead/, I thought... well, joining with Michael might let me bring you back. If something happened to you..." He has to stop, because he's about to crush the beer can. He downs the last of what's in the can instead.     He shakes his head, then. "You heard Phoebe. I... how can I... tell people this is happening? They need to trust me... and I know, I know, I should ask for help, but... /can/ they help me? Can anyone... keep Michael fucking Demiurgos out of my dreams when he's /living/ on the Astral Plane just now? If I spread it around, that he's invading my dreams, and nobody can help... what then?"
Cael Becker	"I have dreams like that, too. I felt alone for a long time. It's weird getting used to-... knowing that isn't true anymore."     She lets out a sigh then adds, "Trust that people care about you, and that they've got your back. Trust that it's okay to ask for help. And if any of them give you shit for you doing the right thing? Then I will fucking have words with them," she asserts firmly.     "Because honestly - how much will they trust you if they find out you've been keeping this to yourself?"
Jonathan Sims	"I know," Jon says. "I know. I just... I keep figuring they'll think... 'oh, Jon has /another/ problem' or 'oh, Jon's just power-hungry' or 'why did we ever trust /him/?'" He shakes his head. "I... I don't know, maybe he's already... put something in my head. Making me... paranoid."     He peers over at Cael. "Gods, I... I can't be /this/ paranoid on my own, can I? I'm... I'm not /this/ bad, right? Was I this bad, before I died?" He swallows. "Sometimes... sometimes I... what came before, sometimes it seems... hazy."
Cael Becker	Cael leans into Jon - ignoring the protests of bruised muscles, as she tries to drive away his worries and concern s with her very prescence. "You went through shit," Cael reminds him gently. "It's okay to be feeling... angry. And scared. And - yeah. Paranoid. So - no, I don't think it was as bad before, but it can get better again. And please... trust me. Trust Martin - and trust your friends. We care about you. We want to help."
Jonathan Sims	"Michael killed me," Jon says with a frown. "He... he /killed/ me, and that... I can't... I can't explain how it... I want to understand him, I /need/ to understand him. Everything he does to hurt me just... draws me in. Like, I don't know, if I can... defeat him with kindness then I win? I negate the whole... torture and death thing?"     A pause. "Or maybe I'm just... obsessed with the man that killed me and sublimating my anger and fear, because killing him back is nigh-impossible."     He shudders, and closes his eyes, and wraps his arm around Cael. "I'm not okay," he whispers. "I'm /really/ not okay. I know I smile and banter and I'm not bedridden and bitter, but... I /died/, and I'm back, and I'm... becoming something, and I don't know what. I don't know half of what I can do, and I became Ma'at's avatar for a /reason/, and... and I'm still scared you'll leave if I get too... weird. Gods, I thought I was over this."
Cael Becker	As Jon wraps his arm around her, and pulls her in close - Cael winces at even the slightest of pressure. though she doesn't draw attention to it. Bruised flesh would heal - but Jon needed her now, and that was more important to her.     "Ay... Mariposa," she murmurs quietly. "We knew you were going to change. I'm not going to turn my back on you - not just because you need me, but because I still love you. Because I still need you, too. I wish I could take these fears away. I wish there was a way to make things easier - but I know there's no magic fix. I'll be there beside you, though, whenever I can. Alright?"
Jonathan Sims	"Yes, yes, I even have the wings," Jon murmurs. He peers down at Cael. "Would you still love me if I /really/ became a monster? Got a bird head, or taloned feet? Eyes all over my body?" He smirks; he doesn't have the wings right now, of course.     After a moment, the smirk fades to a frown. "You're hurting," he says softly. "Why didn't you tell me? Here..." He takes his beer can and fills it with magical water, then offers it to her. "Go on," he says. "It'll help. I promise."
Cael Becker	"Depends on your heart," Cael counters - without any hesitation."I fell in love with //who// you are. That's what I was afraid would change. But we got on that damned boat, and you gave me a wry little smile, and- it was still you, and that's all I cared about. That's all I've ever cared about. I've told you that before, Jon," she says quietly, but fervently. "You're in pain, but you're still you."     As he points out her own pain she explains with a simple, "Bruises heal. It didn't seem that important." She accepts the can though, and starts to drink from it without questioning.
Jonathan Sims	"Pain is neither noble nor a good teacher," Jon says with irritation. "Pain is a /warning/. Something is wrong, and it needs fixing. Yes, bruises heal, but that's no reason to endure the pain when I can provide an analgesic."     It might not heal the bruises as quickly as applying the water directly would, but /drinking/ the water is refreshing, and soothing, and washes away some of the pain.     He stares up at the tree. "I can feel Her here. Gaea. I know She loves me, and She doesn't want to sacrifice me to win this game. But... I keep comparing this to a chess game, and there's an excellent checkmate position where the Queen's sacrificed so the Bishops can hit the opposing King. I was thinking about that because I knew I was going to die. But in chess you don't /kill/ pieces. You /capture/ them."     He shakes his head. "Maybe I'm overthinking things. I'm probably overthinking things. Maybe we should go home and watch something to get my mind off all of this. If... you want to, I mean."
Cael Becker	"Is that how you heard me - you think? Did //she// send my words to you? My thoughts?" Cael asks in a quiet voice. "I still don't really understand why it worked, or why I decided- why I thought this was the best place to go to be near to you, but- I don't know. I'm just glad it worked." She finishes off the water, listening to Jon talk about chess before she adds, "We're going to get through this you know. The worst is behind us, and the long road of healing is ahead - but we're going to be alright. Because we have each other. ...and Martin, and Agnes. And Alis, and Sara and Bear."     Then she adds in a wry tone, "If Sherlock can sit through a Mets game, I suppose I can sit through another episode of Elementary without crawling out of my skin."
Jonathan Sims	"It saved me, you coming here. Whatever happened, it worked." Jon peers at Cael for a moment before leaning down to give her a kiss, lingering despite the cold.     Then he turns away, preparing to head toward the Triskelion. "If you don't like it, you don't /have/ to watch it," he points out. "We could watch one of those racing movies, what are they, Fast and Furious? Why are they furious? Do they not like the cars?"