Owner Pose
Jonathan Sims     After seeing Cael and Bear off, Jon decides to take a walk. He'd warned Martin he might be returning to Grand Central a little late, so he figures he has some time. It's not often, of late, that he gets an opportunity to walk and think, and right now... he /needs/ the chance to be alone. To think through what's happening to him, what his purpose is, what he's fighting for. Figure out his own heart.

    This is because of Troia, in a lot of ways. The conversations they've been having, the discussions about why they're fighting and what they're fighting for. If they're fighting for Gaea, for the Great Mother... well, Neith is a goddess of war, but not war as a first resort. She is also a goddess of weaving, of childbirth, of fate and wisdom, river and water--and the cosmos and all in it. Perhaps she's not the true, original creator, but Jon still thinks of her as prime above all others. Maybe the Presence provided the power, maybe Michael shaped the universe, but Gaea is the one that gave it life. Without life, what point is there to anything? Without minds to wonder, hearts to love, the universe is empty and barren, and there's no point to it at all.

    The sky darkens into the depths of night, crisp and cold and clear. Jon pulls the SHIELD-issued jacket tighter about him and turns into the trees, under whose shade some heat might be trapped. It's darker there, but he doesn't bother pulling out his phone to light his way, letting his eyes adjust to the night. He listens to the forest, to the rhythm of things moving about in the darkness, barely heard beyond the dusting of snow on the ground.
Michael Demiurgos     After the second or third step something about the depth of trees fades. Instead of the relatively recently planted oak, poplar, maple and beech the trees change into something older. Far older. Ancient even.

    The largest of the oaks turn into towering monstrosities that could might rival the skyscrapers of downtown in their vastness the boughs disappearing into a haze of mist far above. Their roots are tangled masses that could double as walls to government buildings in thickness and height. The cold also evaporates into something more humid, thick and almost muggy in climate. Birds and other things call and sound their life in the canopy high above their sounds echoing over each other in a cacophanous chorus.

    The roots of the trees form something of a barriered path, overgrown with moss but definitely leading somewhere. Despite it being night, there is the hint of bright light up ahead a lit clearing perhaps? Whatever it is, it should be clear to Jon that he's not in Rockefeller State Park anymore, that is for certain.
Jonathan Sims     Jon's steps falter for just a moment when he realizes that the trees about him have changed. The mugginess of the air, the bird calls... he looks around with a brief frown, confusion flickering across his features.

    Then he smiles, slightly, and presses forward. He can't be certain what this is, or where he is, but there's no sense of danger to it all. If anything, he feels himself relaxing, knots in his shoulders loosening.

    He starts to hum softly to himself as he presses on toward the light. "Nature Boy." Why that's what comes to mind is hard to say. Perhaps it's the last lines of the song, given what's going on and who he was just with:

    ~/The greatest thing you'll ever learn/~
    ~/Is just to love and be loved in return/~
Michael Demiurgos     The path indeed leads to a clearing. An open plain with a single massive tree in the center; larger than any other tree... ever. The sight of it gives enough name to it in Jon's mind.

    Yggdrasil.

    Animals in sizes much larger than any counterpart on earth mill about in the clearing. Rabits the size of cars. Foxes the size of big-rigs. Wild boars that look more like rhinocerouses. They scuttle and continue without showing any trace of concern or fear to the Archivist as he walks into the clearing.

    There is also a woman there. Even seeing her once before now doesn't make her beauty any less stunning. Gaea kneels before one of the large roots of the giant tree. Her hands, covered in dark soil stains run over the body of the root and there is the flash of green energy pouring from her into the tree. "There. There. You will be well. Let this take the pain away and relax..." she says to the root before rising and dusting off her hands. She turns to regard the Archivist with a soft but pleasant smile as if she expected him.
Jonathan Sims     Jon's humming breaks off as he approaches the clearing, and then the Tree. There's no way /not/ to capitalize it, in his mind. This is /the/ Tree, and he gapes openly as he walks toward it, looking around--actually turning around as he walks, to get a good view of the entire clearing.

    He approaches Gaea slowly, almost shyly, stops a little ways from her. She called him--or came to him?--that much he knows. Why now, he can't say for certain, though he has suspicions. He stares at her for a moment and then abruptly drops to one knee, bowing his head. It seems the thing to do.
Michael Demiurgos     Gaea waves a hand. "None of that. Get up," she says with a soft laugh as she bends down to lift the man from his kneel. The touch of her shows just how much her frame, diminuitive as it is now, hides her strength. That unearthly physical beauty masks the strength that made the mountains rise and the oceans recede.

    "This isn't as formal a meeting as our last encounter. There is little need to stand on ceremony when we are well and truly alone in this place; a meeting of my mind and yours." She smiles again and looks him over. "You're conflicted" she says as her expression sobers some. It's not a question. "What troubles you, my Champion?"
Jonathan Sims     Jon's face flushes darker as he stands, and rubs at the back of his neck. "Ahh. Well. I /am/ your Champion, it seemed... appropriate. I don't... really know what to... it's not as if you've ever come to me before. I've only spoken to you once, and that was at the behest of others."

    He frowns, considering his words. "I... am /always/ conflicted..." A pause, and he laughs. "I don't know how to address you. 'My Lady'? 'Your Worship'? Nothing seems quite... apt. But, ahh... well. I /haven't/ had much guidance. I... I figure you must be unhappy with me. That I'm not... doing this properly."
Michael Demiurgos     Gaea laughs. "Has it occured to you that my name might be appropriate?" she says with a tilt of her head. "I am Gaea. Calling me a Lady would be rather foolish. I am anything but a Lady as the Mother of All. Your Worship is a bit too stuffy for my liking. I am worshiped by many, but it's all through different aspects. The Themyscrians get closest to outright worship of me directly."

    She gives him an arched brow. "What makes you think I am unhappy with you? Quite the opposite. What you did in dealing with my wayward child and the raging fury that is Zarathos was rather appropriate. Even if it did take both you and Troia to bring him down from his ire. His flames do burn rather hot in this endeavor, a pity."
Jonathan Sims     "Well... because..." Jon frowns, and shifts from foot to foot. "Because I... well... because I messed up," he blurts. "Because I've been doing everything wrong, and you haven't appeared to me, you've barely told me /anything/. But Caitlin's... well... she's got all this power, and Michael /appeared/ to her, and I figured you must not like how I'm... going about this whole... Champion business."

    He sighs, and then mutters, "Besides, /that/ was mostly Troia. Barely listened to me at all in the moment." He flushes and looks away, aware he's being petulant.
Michael Demiurgos     Gaea frowns. "Michael broke the rules or well... modified them, I suppose, is more accurate. I should've been more observant." She makes a somewhat embarrassed expression before adding. "He's been thinking about what to give his chosen one for eons, while I am still thinking on what I can give you. I have ideas, but they will have to wait."

    He moves forward and leans into his view. "Stop that." she says plainly. "You're better than that. No need to be childish about what you have done. I chose you didn't I? Are you saying that -I- am a failure in choosing the wrong Champion? Hm?"
Jonathan Sims     "I..." Jon blinks rapidly. "Actually, I rather thought you got... stuck with me. I mean... I was going to ask. Because it... it seems strange. Why... /me/? Of all people..." He gestures vaguely. "As you say, the Themyscirans worship you almost directly. Why not an Amazon? Wonder Woman, or Troia? Why not your own daughter, Meggan? Why..."

    He hunches his shoulders, clearly expecting more reprimands for what he's about to say. "I'm untrained. I'm new at this hero business. Without the bracer, without the Archivist, I... I'm scared. I freeze. I mess up, all the time. I don't know my own heart." He laughs. "I was in love with Cael for /weeks/ and I barely even thought of her as a /friend/! I keep making foolish decisions. I... I'm sorry I'm not... worthy, I just..."
Michael Demiurgos     Gaea laughs again. "Is that what you think?" she asks sounding surprised. "Jonathan... I chose you. There was no 'stuck with' about it." She moves forward and slides an arm into Jon's hooking him with her. "Walk with me." Again there's no question in her mind that he will do as she says.

    She leads him to a stream bed and walks along it, surprisingly (or perhaps not) the bubbles of the stream rolling over the rocks blends with her tone of voice perfectly. "When things escalated and I was notified of the situation, I took an interest in a number of individuals. This is true. But it wasn't so much that you walked into a role I set up it was that you stepped forward and made yourself known." She smiles up at him as she walks. "When you put yourself forward in that alley and declared your defiance at Michael's actions... that's when I knew it was you I wanted and you I chose."

    She shakes her head. "It's not about power or training or courage. Those are important but it's what's in here," she reaches over and taps at his chest, directly where his heart is, "that's important. And you have power here that colors everything you do in such vibrancy that you could move mountains with it if you so wished to." She gives him a sly grin. "I just wished you could see it as clearly as I can."
Jonathan Sims     Jon lets her hook his arm and walks along with her, listening to what she says with a slight frown. "Wait," he says. "Wait, all the way back at... the alley? Really?" He seems flabbergasted, and the frown slowly unravels as they walk.

    "I still don't know what power I have," he says softly. "Beyond... a desperate need to understand." He chuckles. "And a rather desperate need to please. And, well, my training and all of that, but..." He shrugs, as if shrugging that off as unimportant.

    He looks over at her. "Then why... why didn't you contact me until now? Was I going about this wrong? I don't... I don't know what I'm supposed to do in, this, besides die in the appointed time. I've been figuring I'm just... meant to be a martyr."
Michael Demiurgos     The beautiful woman shakes her head, her brown hair shimmering in the light of the glade. "I... have been thinking on how to go about it. My position in the Garden limits my ability to directly interact with my children. A number of things needed to come into alignment. Location, for one. Need, for another." She frowns and looks ahead. "And finally, purpose."

    She continues. "You supplied the location. It wouldn't hurt for Gaea's champion to walk in some more parks from time to time, you know." A glimpse to him shows her smile. "Need is obvious. Michael has moved in ways not even your informant could've guessed. Augmenting a mortal in such ways... it's unusual and far fetched but we have an idea of why now. And finally, purpose. You needed some guidance and -I- needed an opportunity to see you in a situation where you can be yourself and not bound by any ritual constraints or formalities."
Jonathan Sims     Jon flushes. "I... well, yes, that was rather the reason I asked Cael to meet at a park today. To experience nature more, to... be closer to you. I'm afraid most of the parks in Manhattan are... mmm... well, rather exposed. But I should... we used to go for walks, all the time. I should do that, more often."

    He frowns slightly. "Ritual constraints or formalities... do you mean this?" He pulls back the sleeve of the arm gaea's not holding, to show off the golden bracer he wears. "The Archivist. You... chose /me/, and not the Archivist, is... is what you're saying?"

    He hesitates. "I... I thought you chose me to die," he admits. "I thought that's why... because I offered myself as sacrifice. Because that's the role I'm aware I have in this. I thought you just... wanted someone who would be willing to die to save others."
Michael Demiurgos     Gaea shakes her head again. "That is Uriel's game, not mine. The angels and their eternal fascination with martyrdom. A waste if you ask me. I am a goddess of Life, Jonathan. Ask yourself why would a Life goddess choose someone to die? Even if it be for others." She gives him another smile.

    "No. My purpose for you is much more involved than that and not one I can give you details on, just yet." She gives him another sly look. "Needless to say, it will change the fundamental constraints of the universe you live in and hopefully, fix an oversight has been sorely lacking for some time." She winks at him, her long lashes making the motion hard to miss. "No pressure."
Jonathan Sims     Jon blinks at her rapidly and then laughs. "Oh, /thanks/," he says drily. "No pressure at /all/. 'Here, Jon, fix the universe... but we're not going to tell you what or why or how. Good luck!'" He shakes his head, but there's a good-natured smile, there.

    "You want me to live." There's relief in his voice. "I thought so, before, but... but I couldn't wrap my head around... you choosing me to die, but telling me to cheat. But you didn't. You chose me for... something else." He blinks, surprised to find tears in his eyes. "I... Great Mother, that's..." He laughs at having said that, and clears his throat. "That is a /relief/, I must say."

    And then he keeps laughing, and then he has to... /stop walking/, and stare around at the clearing around the great Tree, laughing and crying at the same time. "I... I thought... I was so certain..." He can't quite formulate the right words, somehow. The bitterness he'd felt, the sense of betrayal. The slow acceptance that all he was good for, cosmically, was... dying as a martyr.
Michael Demiurgos     Gaea turns to look up at him and takes his head in her hands. "I would never ask one of my children to die in such a way... she says directly, and wipes away the tears with her thumbs. "Suffer pain? Endure hardship? Certainly. But -never- would I ask you to make that sacrifice."

    She pulls him down and presses up on her toes to place a soft kiss to his forehead. "Each and every one of you are too valuable to me for me to ask such a thing of you." She pauses and frowns. "But there is hardship ahead of you, Jonathan. I cannot save you from that. I can only prepare you and ensure you can survive that hardship with dignity and pride as my Champion."
Jonathan Sims     Jon swallows, blinking back tears, but manages a smile as she kisses his forehead. "Thank you," he says softly. "I... it's been... bothering me. Thank you. I know there's hardship ahead, and... I don't know if I'm ready. I don't know if I /can/ be ready. But I... I'll try."

    He takes a moment, takes a few long, deep breaths. Then he frowns down at her and asks, "What does that mean, then? To be your Champion? I mean... what can you /tell/ me? I don't... if I'm not merely meant to die, then... then what /does/ this mean? What are you expecting of me?"
Michael Demiurgos     Gaea smiles softly at Jon. "Only what I have asked of my children since the beginning of civilization. Unity." She sighs. "It's a hard thing to ask of them, I know. Diverse as they are in mind and body. To ask them to set that aside and look at the things they share. The things they can accomplish when together. But it's what my Champion must strive for. Unify the disparate threads and see that the weave that comes of it is strong and holds. At least long enough to get to the end of this gambit." She winks again. She knows what he's named his own plan at least.

    "It will be difficult. Such emnity and singular purpose has risen among my children... but it can be done. I know it can. I know you can be the loom that binds them. The hands that shape them into an instrument of defense. To stand strong against the onslaught of aggression that these beings from On High bring to you and to all things." She strokes his cheek. "Then at the moment that I have planned for you... make a decision. A single choice that will ensure that continued existence is valued over a senseless violent end. You will know it when it presents itself. I have the utmost faith in you, My Champion."
Jonathan Sims     Jon listens quietly, thoughtfully. "But not the choice to die," he murmurs. "Something else. Something I'll know when I see it." He sighs. "Well, that's... vague. But I'll remember." He chuckles. "I always do."

    He hesitates, then says, "Gaea... can I... can I ask... you said you were going to empower me, as Caitlin is empowered. Can you... spread that around to everyone fighting for you, instead? Maybe... maybe /less/ to each, but... if they have, I don't know, shields to protect them or... something, then... then fewer people will die."

    His eyes are very wide, and earnest, his expression a mixture of pain and hope. Every death hurts him as much as it hurts Her, after all.
Michael Demiurgos     Gaea sighs and pats Jon's cheek in an all too motherly manner. "Sadly child, that is beyond my scope in this. However, I can empower you in such ways that you will be able to give my blessings to others. Defense. Healing. And control over my works can be employed. All in due time. I will see that you are prepared to face Michael's Champion and eventually the Archangel himself, in whatever battleground you so choose." She smiles. "After all, not all confrontations have to be done with the point of a blade." She releases him and smiles. "I will be in touch, Jonathan. All you need is to find a place where I am present and think of me. I will find you as I can find all of my children."

    Then as if being pressed under a cold waterfall the vision of the Tree and the Garden fade returning Jon to the chill of the New York air and the strange silence of the snow covered wood. It seems as if Gaea has given her Champion what she feels he needs to proceed. It's now up to him to employ such knowledge and wisdom as he can.
Jonathan Sims     Jon gasps and shudders as the cold comes back to him, and grabs at his jacket, pulling it around himself. Shivering, he reaches for his phone. While he'd love to stay out here longer, it's dark and cold, and he really ought to be getting back to Manhattan, given that he's been gone for much of the day.

    He stops in the act of pulling up the text-messaging app, and leans down to pick up a single oak leaf. It's green in a way no fallen leaf should be, not in January, and it smells, ever-so-faintly, of the muggy warmth of Gaea's realm. He smiles, and very carefully tucks it away in his pocket. He'll have to preserve it somehow--if he even needs to.

    That done, he sends a text to the dispatch station, asking for a portal at his current location. He looks around once more as the portal appears, and murmurs, "Thank you." Then steps on through, back to Grand Central Station.