08-20-2020, 12:06 AM
Armande ignored Phillip's down turning lips. He was still young. Smart, yes. Charismatic, definitely. Driven, to his core. And he didn't hold it against him. It was something he had only recently come to fully appreciate. Titles were meaningless. Who you were inside mattered most. Respect mattered, of course. But his identity and self esteem was not tied up in his being Regus of the Atharim and all the affectations that went with it. Phillip would learn that, eventually.
Instead it was his connection to the fabric of the universe, that...he paused, trying to find the word, thinking back to his vision of Rowan and Valeriya and himself together on the beach, reality becoming some sort of warp and woof of some energy or force, a tapestry. The threads had come away and all three of them together had been woven into a new pattern of things.
Indeed, pattern was the exact and proper term. Their lives were part of a pattern, shaped in some way by a great force or intelligence. That lens gave a whole new frame of meaning to his life- from his birth destined to be the foe and enemy of Apollyon, Nikolai Brandon. All that happened in his life had shaped him, an arrow knocked, aimed, and loosed. Valeriya, heir to Rasputin, the Eye, hidden and vouchsafed underground 140 years ago, prepared for her ascent. And Rowan, The Bottom of the Cup a beacon to which they were called, only for Valeriya to find her other half, the other Eye. The two of them the single Eye of Fate.
All three of them, woven and shaped and written into a pattern. Lesser men might chafe at the idea. But Armande strangely felt secure and in control despite the seemingly opposite situation. Knowing his destiny gave him confidence and peace. Realizing that he had not been set to a task without any aid, that he was not only up to the task by his own estimation, but quite simply because reality had chosen him personally...in that lay the greatest of trust. No one could claim greater.
What was 'Regus' next to that?
He smiled at Phillip, the affection genuine despite the correction. He very much saw himself in the man. That did not mean he would not be hard on him, though. It would be a sign of disrespect to not expect the best this man was capable of. To himself and to Phillip.
To his credit, the Pope did not take the bait regarding station. He knew what was important. Armande nodded, pleased. "The Naval of the World." He did not expect the term to mean anything to Phillip, having come from the reindeer skin map. He included their location- or rather, where they would be by this evening- in the transmission. Lake Baikal had been merely the stopping point. Accounting for geographic changes of millenia- and this map was old, despite the skin only being less than two centuries in age, it bearing signs that it had been copied repeatedly. The language was ancient and unknown to him, though once again, the pattern had given them what they needed. Valeriya was familiar with it, at least terms that were apparently ritual oriented.- Accounting for those changes in geography seemed to indicate they were headed somewhere east. Siberia, maybe. It fit what he knew of Rasputin.
"The time left is reduced. But Fate has not left us weaponless. We have been chosen to find the key to save mankind." Melodramatic, he knew. But not any less true for all of that.
Instead it was his connection to the fabric of the universe, that...he paused, trying to find the word, thinking back to his vision of Rowan and Valeriya and himself together on the beach, reality becoming some sort of warp and woof of some energy or force, a tapestry. The threads had come away and all three of them together had been woven into a new pattern of things.
Indeed, pattern was the exact and proper term. Their lives were part of a pattern, shaped in some way by a great force or intelligence. That lens gave a whole new frame of meaning to his life- from his birth destined to be the foe and enemy of Apollyon, Nikolai Brandon. All that happened in his life had shaped him, an arrow knocked, aimed, and loosed. Valeriya, heir to Rasputin, the Eye, hidden and vouchsafed underground 140 years ago, prepared for her ascent. And Rowan, The Bottom of the Cup a beacon to which they were called, only for Valeriya to find her other half, the other Eye. The two of them the single Eye of Fate.
All three of them, woven and shaped and written into a pattern. Lesser men might chafe at the idea. But Armande strangely felt secure and in control despite the seemingly opposite situation. Knowing his destiny gave him confidence and peace. Realizing that he had not been set to a task without any aid, that he was not only up to the task by his own estimation, but quite simply because reality had chosen him personally...in that lay the greatest of trust. No one could claim greater.
What was 'Regus' next to that?
He smiled at Phillip, the affection genuine despite the correction. He very much saw himself in the man. That did not mean he would not be hard on him, though. It would be a sign of disrespect to not expect the best this man was capable of. To himself and to Phillip.
To his credit, the Pope did not take the bait regarding station. He knew what was important. Armande nodded, pleased. "The Naval of the World." He did not expect the term to mean anything to Phillip, having come from the reindeer skin map. He included their location- or rather, where they would be by this evening- in the transmission. Lake Baikal had been merely the stopping point. Accounting for geographic changes of millenia- and this map was old, despite the skin only being less than two centuries in age, it bearing signs that it had been copied repeatedly. The language was ancient and unknown to him, though once again, the pattern had given them what they needed. Valeriya was familiar with it, at least terms that were apparently ritual oriented.- Accounting for those changes in geography seemed to indicate they were headed somewhere east. Siberia, maybe. It fit what he knew of Rasputin.
"The time left is reduced. But Fate has not left us weaponless. We have been chosen to find the key to save mankind." Melodramatic, he knew. But not any less true for all of that.