|Saint Michael the Archangel | Dt. Michael Angel (the_sacred_fire) wrote in nevermore_logs,|
@ 2010-11-29 08:30:00
|Entry tags:||clio, michael|
Who: Clio and Michael
What: Researchy Mcresearch. Or how to avoid your problems
When: Monday afternoon
No classes today, and Vercingetorix was being entertained by Central Park. She'd given him plenty of warning about the States and save for adjusting as well as she imagined a hundred year old Gaul to adjust he seemed to take everything in stride.
At least he understood her desire to be alone for a little while. With Ate rearing her ugly head she'd near gone into a panic attack and nothing was better at helping her ignore her problems then drowning herself in research. It wasn't the healthiest way but there was no psychiatrist alive who wouldn't put her in an institution if she said 'the goddess of Ruin tortured me'.
Her current guest understood, but with a language barrier little could be done. Besides she'd promised him she'd tell his story, and for that she needed information. He was the best source but did not know everything, and only knew the customs of his own tribe. If she was to bring an interest in Gauls back she had to start with the overall view first. She always started big, then narrowed in on the true focus.
If anything it would be great material for her classes.
However her problem was that she found just about everything fascinating. While she'd begun research on Gaulish tribes she'd wandered off into different sections and now had a table piled with books on everything she wasn't too familiar with.
And then, here was the reason she'd long since blocked Wikipedia on her computer. It just didn't end well.
With Sebastian watching over Patrick, it was a chance to Michael to escape his apartment as well. As much as Michael appreciated having his brother there, and as much as he liked watching over Saint Patrick to make sure nothing else happened to him, Michael didn't like being cooped up inside either.
It was often a library where Michael escaped to think or spend time alone. Even with the wisdom of ages, it was still fascinating to be informed by the wisdom of others. It was a side of him people rarely saw, and that was alright with him. He could be the gruff and action-ready general to them, and the quiet and thoughtful angel to no one but himself.
Michael had a particular mission on his mind today, however. And while he was on his way to the history section to see if he could find any information on Saint Patrick, he felt the presence of another immortal. And while Michael desired solitude, that action-ready part of him was never truly silenced. He had to see who it was he was sharing the library with today, just to make sure it wasn't someone he would have to keep an eye on.
Who he found was not a threatening demon or some kind of hell succubus, which made Michael feel better. He waited to see if the woman would acknowledge him at all.
And she did, after only five minutes. The feeling of immortal was pretty obvious, and she could only keep her curiosity dimmed for so long. She looked up with a smile and pushed her glasses off.
She didn't need them but they made her feel smarter, and they'd become a part of her, as close as her trumpet or scrolls. She raised a hand in greeting as she studied this being. Not a man, just shaped like one. Old, but she couldn't say how old unless she got more info. And missing something about himself that would make the set complete.
And not Greek, which suited her just fine. She could recite her families stories without issue. It was the ones she didn't know that intrigued her.
With a smile she crossed her arms and motioned to the chair in front of her. Talking loudly was incredibly rude in a library and these places were like a second home to her, places were history was still looked upon fondly, and so she'd never dare.
Michael inclined his head and he moved to sit in front of the woman as she had indicated. "Hello," he said quietly, his voice almost reverent in this house of learning. "My name is Michael. I'm sorry if I am disturbing you."
The name sounded familiar, but then everything did. She folded her hands under her chin, looking at him with a look of 'I know you, but not from where'.
Smiling she shrugged, "if you were I'd have gone on ignoring you." She kept her voice quiet, not wanting to disturb anyone. She set the glasses down and smiled. "Clio. Not the car." She grinned then glanced over him, "parts of you are missing, like it's not complete and I can't figure out why. Indulge my curiosity and then tell me how I can help you."
Interesting. Michael liked that she was straightforward, since that was a trait he often showcased and for some reason it tended to put people off. He had never understood it. "Hello, Clio. I think you'll find that the parts of me which are missing, are my wings," he said, at almost a whisper. "I'm Saint Michael the Archangel. And how can you help me? Do you work here?"
She grinned, enjoying the discovery, "that's it then." She almost went above a whisper then bit her lip. "There's about a million question I want to ask. Christian culture and the myths are so interesting and complex. Older then I think everyone says they are, and have been changed. Popular dogma isn't at all anywhere near to the old dogma. There's even rumors, albeit internet ones, that the original Lord's Prayer was originally for both Father and Mother, that the creator wasn't just male, which doesn't make much sense at all."
She blinked, realizing she was doing a Clio thing and laughed, "sorry, and I'll forgive the fact you don't know me although it stings my pride. I don't work here no." She smirked, "the formal introduction is hello Saint Michael. I am Clio, Muse of History, one of the Nine and daughter of Zeus and Mnemosyne." She shrugged, "and you looked like you're looking for something so if it's just pointing you to a book I can do. It's that or continue listening to my rant and indulging in some rather bad nerdiness."
Ah, she was Greek. Michael knew some of the Greek pantheon, but it appeared he had much more to learn. And the thought pleased him. He would have something to read up on next time he visited. Or he might even be able to speak with her about it and he could fill her in on things from his point of view.
"I am very sorry for my ignorance, though I can assure you it will be short-lived. As for what I came looking for, one of my Saints in particular has been badly influenced by public perception." Just saying it made him wonder how Saint Nicholas and Saint Valentine were getting on. "Saint Patrick has changed a great deal over the years now that his feast day has simply become a day for people to celebrate some parts of Irish culture, such as drinking a lot and wearing green. I came to look into his past. Not for me, but to see what is available and how I can use it to help him."
While she had her moments of pride she wasn't as bad as her brothers, sisters, or aunts and uncles. And even if she was, she doubted she could hurt something like him.
"Don't worry about it. Just means you won't make faces when I go on forever." Her smile faded at his explanation and she went through her own databanks of knowledge. "Mortals will do that. We all get influenced in some ways. The old practices are long forgotten, and people will rather celebrate something nice, then something not so nice. I don't know what, if anything, there is besides snippets and general information no one truly cares about. The people like one aspect, and want to forget the other. But there are ways of helping him, and that's by offering mortals he knowledge of the other aspect. There's always people interested in that. Hell even I am." She blinked as she realized what she said. "And I curse a lot. But the problem is generating interest. My knowledge on your pantheon is very slim."
Michael was gracious enough to ignore the cursing because he was interested in what Clio was saying.
"I wouldn't mind telling you anything you wanted to know," Michael explained easily. "Could we actually change perception?"
Smiling she nodded, "deal." She frowned then pulled up two books with conflicting stories. "Yes. And no. Belief is what shapes us, what makes us the way we are. Look at your own myth. Your own Prophet. Historically we all know He was not born on Christmas day, that He did not have fair skin, and never sought to have anyone pray to Him. But belief is that all of that became true. Scholars still write about His life, attempt to judge what it was actually like, and on some levels it does get altered but not all of it."
She pointed to the stories. "It's a right and wrong debate. Nobody knows so we make the rest up. Both tales can be true in the end, both of them having a speck of truth in them yet being conflicting. In the case of your friend, yes you could find historians willing to write about who he used to be, and on some levels it would change him, but with stories that old the most you can hope for is a sort of middle ground." Smiling she closed the books, "people will still wear green and celebrate Saint Patrick's day. Now the question is why do you want to know?"
All of that made far too much sense to Michael, considering what he had seen of Patrick lately. The rest of them too, but Patrick and Sebastian in particular.
"Saint Patrick is...not who he once was. He says he can no longer remember his life. Perhaps even if public perception doesn't change much, it would help him to study that part of himself. Do you think? He has become...a personification of parades and alcoholism. He is not the saint he used to be."
Here, with Clio, Michael felt he could be much more blunt than with anyone in his own pantheon.
"And he doesn't want to be that being. But I don't think he doesn't know, it's there. Just buried." She frowned and thought. She'd never seen this happen before. She'd seen Gods overtaking parts of other Gods or entire ones at times.
Her fingers tapped against the table before she looked at him. "You know they say your God works in mysterious ways? I'm starting to believe that. Coincidences are lost one me. I believe in Fate, that people will always find us Nine if we're needed. It's our purpose." Smiling she slid him a piece of paper. "Write me his number, how to contact him. Oh do tell him about my offer. I'll talk to him, get information and then do what I do best. Inspire."
Michael smiled widely and he wrote down the information Clio asked him to. "I will do as you ask, and also believe He sent me here today to find you. Thank you, Clio." Michael pushed the piece of paper back to her. "I included my number as well so I can keep my end of the bargain."
She laughed, then quieted herself, "it's a way to look at it yeah. Nothing is coincidence."Smiling she took the piece of paper. "Don't thank me yet. I'm not what I used to be. When I was younger I could have snapped my fingers and a few poets, bards, and historians would have known me and been inspired. Now it takes a bit more legwork, and time." Taking on another project was a bit daunting, but it would help her keep her mind of things.
Smiling she looked to her books, "I'm sure I'll see you around Michael the Archangel. I still have questions."