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.
Zillah is looking about with the eager delight of a tourist, just now -- though she looks as fascinated by trees on the sidewalk and passing dogs as by the landmarks.
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.
Zillah's eyes light up and she tugs at his hand, pulling him closer to the turtle statue.
Once they're close enough, she reaches to pat its head as though it were one of the tiny dogs that passed them earlier. "Hello," she says to it happily.
"And worlds whirl beyond worlds," she murmurs, and the sound in her voice is something very close to awe, "immortal yonder collidingly absorbs eternal near."
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.
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.
To Zillah's eyes the words on it shift like the shape of a fountain, never the same words from second to second, always saying the same thing; it says
Good over evil, this is ever the will of God
and
Light over Dark, so sayeth the LORD always
and
Harmony over Discord, thus sings the Old Music
and the same thing in a dozen idioms and a dozen languages. And under it runs the song of the rose itself, which says yes and always and safe and loved in its uncountable voices; which says whatever sages say and fools, all's well.
It's not a story; it's not as linear as that, pouring out in a stream of image and memory and emotion. But the central image is clear -- River Tam's face, with a different face concealed underneath it: a dark young woman with purple hair and eyes.
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
No one takes much notice of them standing there. Not even today, with so much disarray still needing to be put into order, with anything out of the ordinary likely to be suspicious; the two strangers stand before the garden of the rose, lost (and found) in its song, and no one troubles them.
It's about twenty minutes before the elevator doors open, and Charlie comes out -- very slowly, and leaning heavily on Michael Copeland's arm.
Zillah doesn't look up, but she smiles. "She's here. I know it. Blessedness comes in the night and the day, and whither the wise heart knows."
(The rest of the line is as clear in Charles's mind as though she's spoken it aloud: And one has seen in the redness of wine / the Incorruptible Rose.)
She lifts her free hand, and gestures toward the elevator banks. "Oh, do not ask what is it."
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2009-06-09 02:54 am (UTC)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.
no subject
Date: 2009-06-09 03:01 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-06-09 03:13 am (UTC)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.)
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Date: 2009-06-09 03:22 am (UTC)Once they're close enough, she reaches to pat its head as though it were one of the tiny dogs that passed them earlier. "Hello," she says to it happily.
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Date: 2009-06-09 03:27 am (UTC)"Hello," he echoes, solemn but smiling.
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Date: 2009-06-09 03:33 am (UTC)"Ancient ones," she murmurs, "you carry the weight of the world on your backs."
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Date: 2009-06-09 03:43 am (UTC)"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."
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Date: 2009-06-09 03:46 am (UTC)Another lingering touch, and she draws away from the turtle statue, looking around to see where they're going next.
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Date: 2009-06-09 03:50 am (UTC)Just past the fountain, though, he slows, cocking his head.
From here, you can just barely hear something.
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Date: 2009-06-09 04:04 am (UTC)"And worlds whirl beyond worlds," she murmurs, and the sound in her voice is something very close to awe, "immortal yonder collidingly absorbs eternal near."
no subject
Date: 2009-06-09 04:14 am (UTC)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.
no subject
Date: 2009-06-09 04:19 am (UTC)Hand in hand, like children in a fairytale, the fair-haired young man and the dark-haired girl walk toward the doors of 2 Dag Hammarskjold Plaza.
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Date: 2009-06-09 04:52 am (UTC)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.
no subject
Date: 2009-06-09 04:55 am (UTC)(blue eyes, blue eyes have the sight)
and suddenly luminous with tears.
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Date: 2009-06-09 05:09 am (UTC)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.
no subject
Date: 2009-06-09 11:41 pm (UTC)To Zillah's eyes the words on it shift like the shape of a fountain, never the same words from second to second, always saying the same thing; it says
Good over evil, this is ever the will of God
and
Light over Dark, so sayeth the LORD always
and
Harmony over Discord, thus sings the Old Music
and the same thing in a dozen idioms and a dozen languages. And under it runs the song of the rose itself, which says yes and always and safe and loved in its uncountable voices; which says whatever sages say and fools, all's well.
Tears are sliding unnoticed down her face.
no subject
Date: 2009-06-10 12:15 am (UTC)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)
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Date: 2009-06-10 12:31 am (UTC)A sudden gasp, and fingers tightening on Charles's hand.
"She was here," whispers Zillah, her voice rising and cracking under one more burden of joy.
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Date: 2009-06-10 12:33 am (UTC)"Who?"
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Date: 2009-06-10 01:28 am (UTC)Her smile trembles, but no less with joy.
"Wish by spirit and if by yes. Shantih, shantih, shantih."
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Date: 2009-06-10 05:20 am (UTC)It doesn't matter. Zillah's joy is one more note in the song; that's what matters.
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Date: 2009-06-11 03:31 am (UTC)She doesn't take her eyes from the rose (who could?), but nonetheless she's turning to him.
I'd show you. Will you see?
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Date: 2009-06-11 03:35 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-06-11 04:04 am (UTC)(I know what you are)
(and yet a woman's powerful character / could keep a swallow to its first intent)
(I shall be good as new)
It's not a story; it's not as linear as that, pouring out in a stream of image and memory and emotion. But the central image is clear -- River Tam's face, with a different face concealed underneath it: a dark young woman with purple hair and eyes.
no subject
Date: 2009-06-11 04:40 am (UTC)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.
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Date: 2009-06-12 02:54 am (UTC)It's about twenty minutes before the elevator doors open, and Charlie comes out -- very slowly, and leaning heavily on Michael Copeland's arm.
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Date: 2009-06-12 03:02 am (UTC)"Zillah."
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Date: 2009-06-12 03:21 am (UTC)(The rest of the line is as clear in Charles's mind as though she's spoken it aloud: And one has seen in the redness of wine / the Incorruptible Rose.)
She lifts her free hand, and gestures toward the elevator banks. "Oh, do not ask what is it."
no subject
Date: 2009-06-12 03:26 am (UTC)"Let us go and make our visit."
They turn to join Charlie, leaving the rose.
But it's not something that ever leaves you.