milliways_bar | (no subject)

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The door to Milliways opens, and someone steps in, carefully shutting the door after. At first, all anyone could tell is that this...person is tall, wearing what looks like dark pants and a white shirt, and is covered with a thin rime of frost. Dark brown eyes blink, carefully taking in the surroundings.

One hand scrapes up and over face and hair, then joined by the other, slowly brushing off the ice.

Ambriel steps forward, winding through the tables and chairs to stand in front of the observation window, and places one hand against the glass. The angel stares out at the end of the universe with an indecipherable expression.

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Ambriel's getting a weird look again.

"Yoma don't change their nature."

"We half-yoma have a human mind still in charge. That's all. Our enemies aren't interested in other choices."

The issue is actually a bit more complicated than Clare realizes, but she won't learn that fact for a while yet.

"Samuel Winchester," Michael says, after a long moment of thought.

"Demon-touched, though not lost. Not yet."

The planes of her face settle into sharp lines.

"God grant he may never be."

"I shall be cautious," Ambriel assures her. "And anything else?"

The window was not a surprise, but Ambriel would prefer not to find something else like that without warning.

"Cautious but kind," Michael allows, voice only halfway to dry. "He is very easily put on the defensive, particularly by our kind."

And in other news --

"There are rules here. Three of them. No violence in the bar proper, no nudity or sexual behavior in the public areas, and no outside business. Hence the dislike of smiting. Among other pursuits."

It is best to begin with clarity, where any form of clarity is possible.

"I would not assume to know them better than you." A name can only tell you so much. And demons aren't much for redemption.

Most of him wants to snap 'yes. Go away, you don't know, and frankly, you can't.'

But the only thing waiting for him in solitude is the same memories he spends time with the rest of the year.

"... Can't say I'm good company." He says, because he just can't bring himself to beg to not be left alone.

In this case, clarity is very helpful. "I should not have difficulty adhering to them."

If Michael can manage it with Fallen and demon-touched running around, Ambriel can too.

...probably.

"Should you prove intransigent -- not that I find that likely -- there is a Security force. They've arrested angels before. And gods, too."

It's kind of funny, or so the quirk of Michael's mouth suggests. Even if it fades quickly.

"I am starting to believe that I should find very little surprising, here."

Those who can arrest gods must be interesting.

"I can't say it doesn't help."

Oh, how true that is.

Sensible. Clare accepts that.

However: "What are your enemies like?"

Partly so she'll know if any of them come to the bar.

Partly because apparently, mercy works for them, at least some of the time.

And partly just because Clare is curious.

"Sometimes any company is better than none," Ambriel offers, serene.

The angel has no problem with sitting in a chair in an interesting place and being quiet. Not after the flight to get here.

"It varies. Agents of chaos can sometimes be reasoned with. Sentient life makes its own Choice, and it must be allowed to with minimal interference. Evil deeds can be forgiven, if forgiveness is sincerely requested. Entropy is the force opposite of life, and can only be delayed." Here, Ambriel gestures to Exhibit A, the observation window.

The angel fights many enemies, both literal and metaphorical.

"It is," Elrond agrees gravely. "Many of us have names that show this respect. My own name means Vault of Stars, my king was named Radiant Star, and so on."

"What brings you to Milliways?" Finding out why everyone comes here will likely be almost as interesting as hearing about all the worlds.

"Or perhaps a better question is why you stay. I understand coming here is sometimes an accident."

"You didn't say you were desperate, sweetheart." Perhaps in another time, another place, that'd have a snarkily almost-seductive edge. Especially if he'd come in from earlier in the night, with his Capitol mask firmly in place.

But now, it just sound curious. Tired, but curious.

"I'm not," Ambriel says, almost meditative.

Yeah, sorry, apparently that's all he's gonna get.

Elrond thinks it over. Carefully.

At last, he answers, "I buy time I think. I will have to leave my home soon but coming here I stretch the time till the final goodbye."

It's definitely enough. He scratches the back of his neck, and mentally curses out the fractured rainbows scattering through his vision for the nth time.

"Yeah, guess you're right on that one." If it's a competition of desperation, the odds are not in his favor.

"A worthy cause. Why must you leave?" Elrond seems...well, not distinctly or obviously sad. Perhaps a little melancholy. What is stopping him from staying?

Clare listens to this carefully, although only about half of it makes sense to her.

Neither her training nor her personality have given her much inclination to be philosophical, so she doesn't have a lot of background for this kind of thing. 'Evil' to her is illustrated by actions both immediate and gory.

She follows Ambriel's gesture to the window, but she's not totally sure what that has to do with enemies. A general metaphorical statement?

After a moment: "I suppose it's different for us."

"We don't harm humans, no matter what evils they may have committed. It's an ironclad rule of our organization. We exist to kill yoma, and they don't care about forgiveness or repentance."

"Our time is over. The Fourth Age is upon us and it will be the Age of Men. I shall travel West to our old lands and be reunited with my wife again and for that I am happy. But I built my home and it pains me to leave it."

There's a pause.

"My daughter will stay behind. My sons have yet to decide."

There's definitely pain in that.

"My sympathies. It is never easy to leave those you love behind. Will you and your daughter meet again?"

And it sympathy, or empathy, that Ambriel is showing, with an intense and direct gaze.

"I have fought some who are the same," Ambriel says.

The angel never wants to kill. But sometimes it is necessary.

Clare accepts this proof that Ambriel lives in a comprehensible world with equanimity.

Yep.

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