abraxaslogs | Open | Closed July + August

[If they're lucky, it'll be the same general location. The other side of Solvunn could mean a great many places and a great deal of digging to go with it—then again, it would also serve to keep Claire busy. She might enjoy taking the longer route to discovery.

The detour to her home isn't a long one. An extra flap of his wings brings him to her kitchen, where he finds the notebook sitting on the table exactly where she said it'd be. He never snoops, except if she happens to be writing in her journal right in front of him, in which case leaning over her shoulder to blandly ask which man has caught her eye this week is all in good fun. He doesn't go through her things when she's not around. She's entitled to keep a few secrets since she's never given him reason to worry except with how little sleep she gets at times, and well. He has means to fix that.

Michael appears only moments after she's called for him, notebook in one hand and shovel in the other. He observes her in the hole with mild amusement.]

You've made quick work of this new excavation. Do you have notes to take, or would you like me to put this aside for now?

[ Claire's gotten so used to Michael being nearby; his droll comments always make her roll her eyes in good humor, but for the first time, she takes a moment to be glad he's still with her in Solvunn. She didn't do this enough for others before they were gone, and she's trying to be better about that, to not take anyone for granted, especially those who've been around as long or longer than she has.

When he arrives, she looks up at him before deciding now is as good a time for a break as any. Brushing her hands off, she shakes her head. ] I'm coming up, hold on.

[ The hole was dug with an awkward ramp on one side, and she hauls herself up, knowing she'll need Michael to take away some serious aches and pains once she wraps up. ]

And Nanaue is to thank for this one. He makes quick work, and stopped right where I needed him to. [ She can't have him go too far, lest the remaining cup be broken, but he did so much of the work for her. ] It's the only reason I'm this deep, but I'm beginning to think I need to go back about five feet and to the left. This is mostly debris, like broken plates and less ornate, smaller cups. I want to get a little closer to where I think the 'front' of the room would have been.

[As in all things, all Claire need do is ask. Michael is an abandoned tool craving for purpose and aiding a friend soothes him as much as it helps them. He sets the shovel down and extends his arm as she reaches the top of the ramp, offering a hand to keep her steady as she steps back onto level ground.]

I wondered. [Here and there, the earth bares indentations from distinctly manshark-sized fingers. Claire would need to be wearing twenty pairs of gloves to even come close.] His work is as quick as his attention span.

[Getting Nanaue to help is never hard. Getting him to stay on task for any significant length of time is another matter.

Michael allows her a moment to brush dirt from her garments and clean her hands, and then he's offering her the notebook she requested.]

Have you drawn any conclusions about the Solvunn locals of yore from what you've found thus far?

[ She thanks him for his assistance, then presses her hands to her hips, looking back out at her excavated land so far. ]

Well, Luna was large. I'm honestly a bit surprised based on what they have now. They cover an area I didn't anticipate before being pushed out. [ Claire walks him along the perimeter of the area she's in with him, and points out into the distance. ] I've found the most beadwork that way with the same type of wolf insignia. What I wonder is: why is so much of this in pieces? It's like a bomb went off and nothing survived except for that very lucky chalice.

[ A magical bomb? She glances at Michael; things have escalated to a point where it isn't outside the realm of possibility the Luna were forced out in a dramatic way. ]

[Michael follows along and shows appropriate interest in the places she points out, like a parent being shown their child's work after a long day in art class. This is of course real science she's doing rather than playing in a sandbox, but it charms him in a similar way nonetheless.

At the suggestion of a bomb he looks out over her excavation, as if the hole she's dug herself might have been the blast site. After a moment of thought he nods. It's certainly not outside the realm of possibility, but it may not be the only explanation.]

Is it known that they were forced out? War wouldn't surprise me, but given the area's history of tradition and ritual, perhaps it was ceremonial to dispose of broken items in this fashion.

[Seems a little silly to him to honour broken beads and vases with a burial, but he finds the concept of worshipping the old gods ridiculous. Maybe it seemed only natural to the people who used to live here.]

I don't know that they were forced. 'Gently' asked? That's part of the research that's been difficult, but I'm getting there. It's reminding me of the Native Americans being pushed out of their land bit by bit until what they have left is a single reservation.

[ Still, Michael has a point. It didn't at all have to be as dramatic as that. ] It could've been natural too. We've now seen firsthand that the weather can be violent.

[ She finally takes the notebook he brought with thanks, and pulls a pencil out of her hair which makes the curls fall down her back. Writing her thoughts, she murmurs to herself at first before speaking up. ]

I know where we're going next, if you really do feel like helping. Process of elimination means I'm fairly confident, and if I'm wrong, we'll know before dark.

Edited (whoops pressed post too soon on accident lol [when u edit your edit reason, lol]) 2024-07-22 15:30 (UTC)

[Michael makes a hum of understanding at the comparison. The only part that would surprise him is that a society like Solvunn, so similar to the werewolves and seemingly still on good terms, would be the ones to push them out. If it'd been a hostile takeover, he'd expect it to be the work of the Free Cities and their advanced technology or the controlling Thorne.]

Difficult to imagine what the situation at the time might have been with an object like the Singularity in play.

[He hasn't been here long enough to know if its reactivity has patterns over the decades, or over the centuries. There was that shared eight hundred year-long experience, of course, but how much of it had been real?

Michael glances over at Claire as she starts taking notes. She could have asked him to bring another pencil, too, he thinks.]

Do I seem like the type of person to make an insincere offer?

[What else are friends for if not for keeping you company? Of course he's game to help out at the next dig site.]

What do you plan to do with all these artifacts you've been unearthing?

[ At the time of asking, the pencil was out of sight, out of mind. Whoops. But she writes what she needs to and then puts the pencil back into place, putting her hair back up. ]

I don't know that you can be insincere at all. [ She laughs via an exhale through her nose, then tucks her notebook back into her pocket. Then, she presses her hands to her hips and glances down at the tarp of bits and bobs that are meaningless for now. She nods down at them and explains. ] I'll clean this all, then categorize all of it into what I can down to color and texture. If the council gives permission to do more, then who knows, things might come together.

[ She begins picking up tools, then hands over a shovel and a pick to Michael. ] And for the chalices, the Council has already agreed to give them back to the Luna, where they belong.

[Next time she pulls it free, he won't bother waiting for her to ask. There'll be a flutter, a current of air, and a second pencil on offer.

For now, he accepts the tools she hands his way, examining their condition while she cleans up the site. They're all in a serviceable state, to his eyes. He can see why the digging went faster with Nanaue's beast-sized hands though.]

No museum display? [That's not a serious suggestion. Better to give it back than to risk provoking the Lunae. She's got her notes for reference, anyway.] At least tell me you'll be writing a paper on your findings.

[Still teasing, but he does think it'd be an activity a scientifically-inclined mind like hers would enjoy. He'll even offer to peer review it for her.

Tools in hand, he moves over to the pile of miscellaneous broken beads and pottery sherds.]

Is there a particular way you want this all stored?

If the people of Luna decide to display or donate, that's completely up to them. [ His idea of a paper doesn't fall on deaf ears, but she does make a face. ] I always did hate the paperwork side of everything. Even work at the hospital. Time writing out words could be time spent saving lives.

[ Though there's really no such excuse here and now. ] I'll consider it, but I'm not sure who else will actually deeply care other than you and the Council. [ His question about storage makes her think there are times she wishes she could bring a bit of the 20th century to Solvunn, but instead, she simply has to get creative. ]

I don't have anything to regulate the temperature and humidity, so the best place is going to be the house in boxes I've already prepared. Some of it will get used for a special gift for Nanaue. I'm making a shark mosaic for him, he loved finding all of these pieces and arranging them.

[ Any small pieces that aren't all that discernable from rubble will come in handy after all. But that's for later, and she pulls the long tarp over the objects and weighs it down. ]

Alright. Let's go and find a hopefully intact second werewolf chalice.

You don't like to see your thoughts placed in concrete order?

[Michael's tone gives away that he does. He's always appreciated the finality of the written word—genuinely written in stone, when it was important enough. Thoughts can be changeable. A stone tablet is not.

She's probably right there isn't much of an audience for it here in Solvunn though. Too many animals to tend to and fields to be watered. Alas.

His wings flick behind him, silent and as unseen as always. He's a clean as you go sort of person and he doesn't like the idea of leaving pieces out to box later. This is her project however, not his, so he leaves it be. Character growth.]

I didn't take you for an artist, Claire. You'll have to show me your plans for this mosaic.

[He follows along as she leads the way to the next dig site, tools in hand.]

Oh, I do. But that doesn't mean I enjoy the task of doing it. It isn't like being in my garden. There, I work hard and sweat and ache at the end of it, but I love it, I feel like I'm constantly in motion. But if you told me I had to write a two page report at the end of every day about each vegetable's hardiness, I'd never stop groaning about it.

[ It's a flaw, what can she say. But she does understand the importance and so she always gets it done. Eventually.

At his artist comment she snorts, leading the way and glancing over at him. ]

I'm not, but I helped with plenty of school arts and crafts, play costumes and scenery. And Nanaue really thought he was bringing the goods, I can't let him down now. He really does want to help, and I had the idea when I realized we had more colored pebbles on our hands than anything else. I think he'll get a kick out of it, so to speak.

[ Luckily, they don't have too far to go, and she can already see the edge of where she'd marked. ] He has a baby seal now, have you seen that?

[Michael nods. He understands the problem acutely now, even if it's not what Claire intended to say.]

I understand. You don't like to be sedentary. Perhaps you'd enjoy it more if you wrote as you gardened, or had someone to take down your thoughts for you.

[As much as he likes the security of seeing his words set in stone, Michael too would rather have his hands busy with a task. Doing the writing had never really been his job, anyway. Heaven did have scribes.

He nods at her thoughts on Nanaue. Though he doesn't think the manshark's memory is robust enough to ever get caught up on details like not being rewarded for his assistance—as long as he has fun, nothing else seems to matter—it's never a bad idea to encourage his good deeds. Michael has seen what Nanaue's less pleasant side is like.]

I have. 'Baby', as he calls it. I knew a man who called his car the same.

[Still knows him, technically. He guesses Dean gets the same comfort from being in his car that Nanaue and others get from holding the little seal. He wonders if Claire has experienced Baby's peculiar ability yet.]

Have you—held it?

[ Their friendship has evolved to Michael understanding her, understanding what she's trying to say, even if she doesn't get all the way there in the end. Somehow, he's come to know her and how her mind works better than anyone else on the planet. She's never had a friend like him before, and it means something to her. Not that she knows how to express it. ]

You mean have someone write my every thought aloud? I could never make someone suffer like that, it'd be ramblings about weed knots and cross-pollination rates. How utterly boring for this imaginary being.

[ Seriously, she can't imagine the fun in that, and it isn't as if she won't ever get the boring things done, just that...she might complain about them a little before she does. But now she's distracted, and her head tilts ever so slightly as they speak about Baby. ]

Men and vehicles is an obsession I've never understood. But as for Baby, I have not held it. The way you say that makes me a bit glad I haven't while unaware. [ She's actually glad for the head's up and looks at Michael warily. ] What is it, exactly, that the seal can do?

[It's an odd but easy friendship they have. Michael never saw himself spending time with humans; Claire probably never pictured herself friends with an angel. Yet, he understands and feels understood better than he did among most of his siblings.]

Dull to you, but surely of interest to someone.

[One of his siblings might have been happy to do it. Angels tend to adore the natural world in a logical, scientific sort of way.

The obsession with vehicles isn't one he understands either. They can't do for him anything that he can't do for himself, and even that not as well as he can. He's occupied the body of a man long enough he thinks he'd see the appeal if there were one for him, but one never knows. Maybe enough time spent around those from the Free Cities will have him lamenting the presence of goat carts over cars.

At her question, he frowns. He can't be certain the experience is universal but it's worth issuing a warning nonetheless. He would have appreciated one.]

It seems to have the ability to placate those who hold it. [A defence mechanism, perhaps?] It made me feel calmer than I have in a long time. It wasn't painful, or even necessarily unpleasant, but I don't care to be compelled to feel a certain way by outside forces.

[Especially if it happens to be drawing its power from an old god.]

Oh. I don't know what I expected, but that wasn't it. [ She has to pause to think about that, to wonder how she feels about something changing her demeanor. 'Calm' doesn't sound so bad, but against her will? ] I don't know how I feel about that yet. I've never been compelled or controlled, so I've nothing to compare it to. I might just have to find Nanaue tomorrow and ask to see Baby, feel it for myself.

[ The thought crosses her mind that it means letting in old magic, not realizing her thought is along the same line as Michael's as she begins marching forward again. ] Wait, where did Baby come from exactly? Nanaue never explained.

[ They eventually make their way to the right spot, and with tools redistributed, they're able to get to work. She never did assume she would be working with, let alone friends with, an angel, but here they are together, an unlikely but easy duo. ]

It seems to stop as soon as you let go of it, but do let me know if you'd like to have backup while you investigate the effect.

[He'll give her exactly five minutes to hold the seal before intervening.]

Xeimer, apparently. I didn't pry further and I'm not sure Nanaue would have the capacity to explain if I did.

[He's assuming Baby either walked out of the sea towards him, manifested at a shrine, or turned up inside Nanaue's barn. If the process by which the little seal was more involved than that, or if Xeimer had a physical hand in it—well, some things are better left unsaid.

When they arrive at their destination, Michael sets down the extra tools for fine detail work and starts shovelling as Claire delineates the dig site. He never pictured himself doing manual labour in human form any more than Claire imagined being friends with an archangel. The future has held many unexpected twists, not all of them pleasant, but at least he has once again found good company to pass the time with.]

I can't help it, I'm curious. I've never been...made to feel something like that. Unless it counts, the odd glimpse of the future. I loved Jon then over centuries, I love him now, but I'm quite sure only the scenario was forced.

[ She knows what she feels, and she can't think about it, whether or not some other higher echelon of being moved them like chess pieces. In any case, they have things to dig up, and they fall into a good rhythm together.

It seems she hardly has to say anything, mostly point or float a few words, and Michael seems to know. It's exactly the sort of work she likes: partnering with someone to accomplish a task, but in companionable silence, conversation when necessary or when there's something interesting to say.

When they're actually in the process of digging, Claire lets herself get a little excited, whens he spots some of the same flooring patterns from the first chalice's location. ]

I think we're onto something here, Michael, the Council was right, and we're close.

I don't believe it was engineered to that degree. We lacked some of our memories, but our actions were still our own.

[At least, he thinks they were. Michael would prefer to think he'd notice if he were being influenced to that degree. What would be the point of being so heavy-handed with creatures possessing free will instead of just making unthinking servants to play out whatever scenario pleased them, anyway?

(It does not occur to him how similar the gods manipulating them here would be to what Heaven did to arrange the Apocalypse back home.)

Michael is usually the one listening instead of filling the silence. Speaking only when he had to preserved the gravity of his commands. If Michael had something to say, it was serious; the Host listened. Digging in mostly-silence with company suits him just fine.

When she spots something worthy of attention, he sets aside the large shovel and joins her.]

You found tiles like these at the other site, didn't you? [He remembers seeing them in the pile for later sorting and maybe mosaic-making.] You're already planning to use some of this on a gift for Nanaue. Have you considered decorating your home with any of it?

[With a bit of scrubbing, there's part of a new kitchen floor right there.]

[ Claire agrees with him, and that's enough for her to believe they're both correct. Their emotions, their feelings, were their own. She's kneeling down, examining the tiles when Michael says something that never really occurred to her. Brushing some of the dirt away, the colors are dulled but she can tell there's color underneath. ]

That's not a bad idea. A backsplash in the kitchen at the very least, if there aren't enough tiles in good condition for flooring. Nice thinking, Michael. Were you an interior decorator in a past life?

[ She knows why that's a silly question to ask, of everyone, Micahel, but she thinks she's funny. ] Alright, our excavation includes these tiles now, but the focus is still any sort of container for liquid.

[ Either they'll find an abundance of cutlery and realize this is a dining hall, or they'll find the chalice, perhaps another piece or two, and she'll have found some sort of ritual chamber. It's exciting to her, regardless. ]

Mechanic and pre-med student, actually. [Past vessels count as past lives, right? Michael also happens to think he's funny.] But I've had plenty of practice setting the inn right.

[Gabriel had left him with quite a bit to undo, even accounting for the one room he'd left untouched. The garish floral patterns are almost enough to give even an archangel a headache.

He settles in her side of the hole at a comfortable distance away, digging at the ground more carefully now with what is definitely just a common garden trowel someone lent to the cause and not any kind of specialized archaeological tool. For a little while, there's more companionable silence and the sound of little wet piles of earth being moved around, birdsong and cicadas buzzing from somewhere above. Eventually there's a clink as his trowel meets something solid.

Michael uncovers the cup carefully, following the unyielding outline with the trowel. Soon he's able to work it free of the earth and clear it off with a brush enough to see the design. The side facing him depicts a pair of wolves standing on their back feet, embracing or perhaps dancing; when he flips it over, the wolves are now horizontal, head to tail in an arrangement that would have Gabriel saying nice.

He hands it to Claire with the latter side facing up.]

Ceremonial or everyday drinkware, do you suppose?

Really? [ Claire looks at him and can't help herself, she goes for the rest of the joke. ] I would've flirted. Pre-med and mechanical? A young Claire Beauchamp would've swooned.

[ She laughs and then they continue, using her magic every now and then to carefully reposition roots. But that 'clink' is a sound that sends a rush through her, just like it has since she was a little girl out in desserts or deep in jungles at her uncle's side. All of her attention goes to helping Michael and once he hands the cup to her, she carefully brushes away a bit of dirt. Tilting her head, she suddenly lets out a bark of laughter, then grins. ]

Fertility ritual room. Michael, these rooms were for either used for sex around a specific time of the month, or blessings. Perhaps both?

[ She loves this, it's probably the best she feels outside of saving a life in an O.R. and she rushes to hand the object back to him so she can sit right there and begin scribbling in her notebook. ]

Of course, we still need to find the other matching chalice, but this is fantastic.

Open | Closed July + August

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