realityshifted | (no subject)

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d•n•angel (d1) argentine

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[Argentine is crouching on stone pillar which he's brought with him. He was resting, just thinking, and decided to sit here in the hopes of running into someone. The snow, however, has taken him off guard and he tips his head up to look at the sky.]

...Is there art dreaming somewhere? [He reaches up a gloved hand to catch some snow.] How strange.

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[You gotta love Shakespeare; intricacy ahoy!]

'Tis said that humankind grows closest to the Lord through prayer and blood; yet grandness as this presents a second [She pauses and reaches out with a hand; catching a snowflake more through luck than anything else] ...This doth not feel of art.

[He catches another snowflake as well and looks closely at it.]

I believe you're right. It would feel differently if it were art. But this snow is still unnatural.

From the lights above; they dost not appear without cause- a strange days night when they come [She frowns deeply; still examining her snowflake- even as it slowly melts from her body heat] ...I sense that thou hast not watched this fall afore?

[He turns his attention back to her.]

Speaking abstractly, I have seen the snow fall. But I have not experienced it myself. The outside world is still new to me.

[She nods, looking rather thoughtful] Many doth not want the true world; palaces art sweeter.

Aye, yet I didst mean upon this land.

[He bows slightly.] My apologies. I haven't seen snow here nor there.

Nay, 'tis my fault- I wast not clear on the matter.

...Snow doth not commonly come from starshine.

No, it does not. I wondered if it was art, because only in art could something like this be so easily possible.

[She gives him a odd little frown for a few seconds and then glances at the sky again] Hm, perhaps this ist art, perhaps it doth all be art- 'Tis a strangeness but not a ending [She tilts her head slightly; still staring up at the sky] ...It doth not burn mine flesh, thou?

[He looks up as well.] I feel nothing. It seems that here, magic is what allows all to work.

Magic? [She seems to consider that for a few seconds; looking perhaps just a little wary- since witches and wizards and things that go "boo!" in the night are still regarded as Very Bad Things in her time] ...Perhaps, there be signs of bedevilment.

Though...enchantment is often a positive word, I think.

Nay, all trappings are devil touched.

But do you think the devil could touch something as beautiful as this snow? or perhaps beauty itself is his work...

I wouldst not guess the devils playgrounds. [A pause as she settles her cloak around her and frowns] beauty doth hide darkness, the rose hides the thorn and the thorn hides the rose- fate demands.

You are right, Maiden. Beauty often comes at a price, for the creator or for the beholder.

Aye... Little beauty has virtue; truth demands my speech.

And your speech is beautiful itself as I have heard it.

Speech 'Twill bring many ruin; didst not the serpent tempt Eve?

But did not God tempt first? Though words are responsible in both cases.

The lord works in mysterious ways; by heaven's holy night I know it. His words doth have purpose- even if they seem plain.

Have you experience in that matter?

No, but I know it. 'Tis truth from books and 'tis truth from mouths.

Could those things not lie?

[She considers that for a second and then her eyes dart away; up into the sky] ...nay.

...If't not the work of diablo then whom could it be? The purity of snow doth suggest dreaming.

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