ladyfirestarter: (Tet Corporation)
[personal profile] ladyfirestarter
It's a Tuesday afternoon early in June of 2009 in New York City, Keystone Rose.

Date: 2009-06-09 02:54 am (UTC)
thisfatefulhour: (See it well)
From: [personal profile] thisfatefulhour
Since Charlie's been up and about, Charles has been showing Zillah New York City, as well as he can with an experience gap of more than twenty years. Some things are the same: Central Park, its lawns and its statues, is a favorite, an oasis of relative calm for Zillah and familiarity for Charles.

Today, Charlie has been meeting with the people at Tet. She ought to be done soon, so Charles and Zillah are making their leisurely way to the Tet building.

There's a little park along the way that catches Charles' eye, with a fountain and a statue of something.

Date: 2009-06-09 03:13 am (UTC)
thisfatefulhour: (A small solemn smile)
From: [personal profile] thisfatefulhour
Someone wrote something on the sidewalk in chalk, but the passing of many feet has worn most of it into indecipherable smudges. Charles thinks he can make out the word MIND on one square, and RTH on another.

The statue is a turtle, he can see now. It's a little incongruous for a park, but it -- feels right.

(He's starting to smile, without even noticing.)

Date: 2009-06-09 03:27 am (UTC)
thisfatefulhour: (Smiley)
From: [personal profile] thisfatefulhour
Charles grins.

"Hello," he echoes, solemn but smiling.

Date: 2009-06-09 03:43 am (UTC)
thisfatefulhour: (Old Eyes)
From: [personal profile] thisfatefulhour
Charles laughs softly.

"You're very clever, young man, very clever." He reaches out, mirroring Zillah, and brushes the shell. "But it's turtles all the way down."

Date: 2009-06-09 03:50 am (UTC)
thisfatefulhour: (Hmm.)
From: [personal profile] thisfatefulhour
He smiles, pats the turtle's head, and turns with her.

Just past the fountain, though, he slows, cocking his head.

From here, you can just barely hear something.

Date: 2009-06-09 04:14 am (UTC)
thisfatefulhour: (Old Eyes)
From: [personal profile] thisfatefulhour
Charles is still, and silent, wordless.
Let the wilderness and the cities thereof lift up their voice ...
I have long time holden my peace; I have been still, and refrained myself ...

Then sing. Sing to keep yourself awake.

After a minute, he squeezes her hand and whispers, "Come on," barely more than a breath.

Date: 2009-06-09 04:52 am (UTC)
thisfatefulhour: (Patrick's Rune)
From: [personal profile] thisfatefulhour
The lobby of the Tet corporation building is tiled in gleaming pink marble. There's little traffic, for the time of day. Afternoon light is slanting through the high windows, painting specks of dust golden and casting long shadows.

In the center of the lobby, cordoned off by velvet ropes, is a small indoor garden, mostly consisting of ferns and dwarf palms.

In the center of the garden is a rose.

Date: 2009-06-09 05:09 am (UTC)
thisfatefulhour: (Patrick's Rune)
From: [personal profile] thisfatefulhour
The rose -- the rose sings.

As they get closer, Charles' expression is becoming one of joy so strong it's almost pain. His hand is very tight around Zillah's.

Someone whose name means more joy once told Charles that roses burn with a purifying flame. This is a little like that. A little.

Date: 2009-06-10 12:15 am (UTC)
thisfatefulhour: (Patrick's Rune)
From: [personal profile] thisfatefulhour
To Charles' eyes, the plaque reads Good over evil is God's will ever. His gaze only skims over it before returning to the rose.

And the rose sings

(lords of todash, lords of over
lords of where and lords of when)


like a thousand choirs, like a unicorn

(all the roads that lead the rover
come from here, and back again)


as the galaxies and worlds spinning in it dance like farandolae.

This, it says, is real.

May wonders never cease.

(say alleluia, say amen)

Date: 2009-06-10 12:33 am (UTC)
thisfatefulhour: (A small solemn smile)
From: [personal profile] thisfatefulhour
He squeezes back, automatically, and that simple little gesture of connection makes his own tears start to overflow.

"Who?"

Date: 2009-06-10 05:20 am (UTC)
thisfatefulhour: (A small solemn smile)
From: [personal profile] thisfatefulhour
Charles doesn't understand.

It doesn't matter. Zillah's joy is one more note in the song; that's what matters.

Date: 2009-06-11 03:35 am (UTC)
thisfatefulhour: (Hmm.)
From: [personal profile] thisfatefulhour
Wordless assent.

Date: 2009-06-11 04:40 am (UTC)
thisfatefulhour: (Patrick's Rune)
From: [personal profile] thisfatefulhour
Surprise, from Charles, and an echoing image: a tanned boy with black hair and dark eyes, with Charles' face beneath.

There's so much in the kythe, and some of it is wonderful and a great deal of it is terrifying, and the end of it is this -- standing here, where a friend stood, before the rose's music

(that lovingness joins the music of the spheres)

and within it.

Date: 2009-06-12 03:02 am (UTC)
thisfatefulhour: (A small solemn smile)
From: [personal profile] thisfatefulhour
Charles looks up, finally -- blinks, laughs, and rubs a hand over his cheeks.

"Zillah."

Date: 2009-06-12 03:26 am (UTC)
thisfatefulhour: (Smiley)
From: [personal profile] thisfatefulhour
He squeezes her hand gently.

"Let us go and make our visit."

They turn to join Charlie, leaving the rose.

But it's not something that ever leaves you.

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