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Blandine has not attended Council since the Fall. But no one is surprised to see her now, sitting straight and regal in human seeming, the air around her lit with glittering, rainbow sparks. She speaks to no one, all her attention turned to the floor.
The floor is nearly empty, but for two. One, Dominic, is curled around the raised bench of Judgment, his massive coils obscured by midnight cloth, a multitude of eyes gleaming beneath the hood of his cloak. Stacks of files are arranged neatly at the edges of his cloak, like attendants ready to hold a wedding train. He faces the other, a human seeming clad in the rags of a madwoman, tattered and soiled like nothing else in Heaven. Her hair is grey and ragged, her exposed skin covered with deep furrows, her fingertips red with her own blood. Only the eyes, black and sunken in her shriveled face, held sanity, and that unblinking reality held more terror than any madness. Only Dominic and Blandine could continue to watch her without blinking. All others shifted, glanced away periodically to reassure themselves of the paradise around them.
"We are here to discuss the charges against the accused, and pass lawful Judgment upon them." Dominic's voice is a chime, cold and pure. He nods his head towards the woman on the floor, "You understand the charges against you?"
She smiles, baring shattered teeth. The sound of her voice is the howling of wind through a lonely canyon. "Sedition. Treason. Rebellion. Inciting others to rebellion. The creation of demons, the corruption of angels. The murder of celestials and humans. The breaking of human minds beyond all hope of repair. Leading mortals to damnation and the destruction of their souls." She laughs, and gentle Novalis flinches at the sound. "Your children are diligent at their duties, Dominic, but allow me to assure you that those folders hold not even the greatest fraction of my crimes. We could spend a thousand years simply listing them."
Unmoved, Dominic replies, "And how do you plead to the collected charges?"
"Guilty. Guilty, and guilty again. Guilty for as many as you name, and more that you don’t." She absently reaches up and drags a new furrow along her skin, hissing in satisfaction at the pain. "Pass sentence as you please. It will not be enough."
"It will be enough," Dominic corrects, the song of his voice both gentle and merciless. He does not wait for her reaction, but turns his hooded attention to the Seraphim Council, and the Superiors arrayed atop its highest tier like jewels in a crown. "The accused offers no defense. The judgment is guilty. The sentence is..." And, not unpredictably, chaos erupts.
Michael is the first to interrupt, slapping his thick tail against the railing and bellowing, "Hold on, here! This is as much a tactical matter as a legal one. You cannot seriously mean to squander the greatest tactical advantage we’ve had in millennia with your pedantic pronouncements! I demand a say in the sentencing! She should be remanded to my custody, or the Sword’s, for interrogation." There was a low murmur of agreement at this, cut off by Novalis' immediate rejoinder.
"Nonsense. Debriefing is, of course, necessary, but we have /never/ made it a policy to imprison the Redeemed...or, for that matter,” and here she turns an offended eye upon Dominic, "to try them for crimes committed while under the service of Hell. A service which she has willingly abandoned! She needs comfort, not condemnation!"
Marc called out a show of support for this point of view, joined by Christopher and Janus, the latter demanding that the entire proceedings be declared over and dealt with. Laurence finally entered the debate with a sharp reply that Dominic had dominion here, not Janus, "...and a good thing, too, else conflicts be resolved by musical chairs.” David remained silent, watching the back and forth of the argument with a thoughtful frown. Quarrelling quickly broke out among the lesser Word-bound and Council seraphim, the voices of the Superiors ringing out like bells above the chorus.
Dominic let it go on for a while, the hood of his cloak turning slowly this way and that, seeming to follow the different threads of argument without difficulty. His attention occasionally drifted towards the seat of Dreams, and the Lady who sat there. She seemed unmoved, possibly had not even noticed the outbursts at all, watching the woman on the floor with a fixed and yearning expression. When he was quite sure that she would say nothing, the tip of his tail emerged from the edge of the cloak, grasped his gavel, and slammed it down. A wave of silence swamped the Council chambers, robbing all but Archangels of speech. And even they fell silent after a moment, although not without glares all around.
When order was restored, Dominic spoke. "It is true," he nodded towards Flowers, "that we do not make it a policy to try the redeemed for their crimes as demons, although neither do we neglect to notice them. However, we face a situation like none other. The accused is—was—a Demon Prince, and one of the first to Fall. She is not a deluded soldier in this war, but a general. She cannot claim ignorance of God's will, or a lack of knowledge of the Truth of Heaven. She cannot claim influence of demonic resonance in her Fall, for she was persuaded by no demon, but an angel. She can claim no fear of those above her, for salvation was always right before her, and she knew the Truth of its existence. Her actions were willful, malicious, and premeditated. She created soldiers to fight the War. She swayed humanity to their damnation, and is directly responsible not only for the crimes she committed, but the crimes she caused to be committed. This is the Truth, and this court will not pardon her simply because she, at last, regrets. To do so would be to say that we place convenience," a look at Michael, seraphic eyes meeting without concession on either side, "over principle, and do her victims a great disservice besides. There must be punishment."
The hood dropped again, to study the woman who stood without flinching. "And yet, it is also true that God has judged before I, and found the accused worthy of life. Execution would thus be unjust. Instead, the sentence passed shall be imprisonment, for a time not to be less than three hundred mortal years. During this time, a complete debriefing shall be done, as well as penance and prayer on the part of the prisoner. At the end of this time, there shall be a hearing to determine whether further imprisonment is warranted, or if there shall be a change of sentences. Visitation rights..."
"Most Just." The howl of her voice was now subdued, but still the anachronistic sound cut across Dominic’s voice, made him stop and lean closer. "I ask but one mercy."
"Yes?"
"Allow me no visitors but yourself. No other." A high, shocked murmur ran across the tiers of the Council, and many eyes turned upward without conscious volition, seeking Dreams. Dominic’s were among them, and of them all, he may have been the only one unsurprised to see that seat now empty.
The Archangel of Judgment sighed, bowing his head. "By the prisoner's own request, visitation is denied to all others but Judgment. So it is written, so it shall be." The gavel fell to the bench with the sound of a slamming door.
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Beleth is fascinating. I want to know why she Redeemed...
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That is to say, I am failing at words to express the love, here. I've been trying to be more clinical these days and give nice, good, concrete feedback, and I will, here, but I am deeply, madly in love with this fic. It's got all the inexorable logic that I want to see when Judgment is passing sentence, and it all makes sense - up to and including his reasons for still putting her on trial. And Blandine... well. The lack of description and reaction here is more telling than any sort of dramatic prose could be. All of the Superiors, actually, are spot-on here, from Michael to Novalis. They'd say exactly that, and sound just as reasonable and convinced of their rightness. (It is small and wicked of me, but Dominic's entirely Truthful little dig at Michael? [heart!] I admit my biases yes. ...and the bit with the musical chairs is just funny. Oh, Laurence. It's so true.)
That said, I also love the tone of this fic, and the descriptions. The repetitions of bells and chimes regarding voices is particularly striking and vivid. Beleth's description is chilling, especially "that unblinking reality held more terror than any madness." It would seem like it could be over the top, but it isn't - instead, it just reinforces the fact that these are Superiors - and, well, one former Superior.
I also love the final touch of mercy that Dominic does give her, and the fact that it really is a mercy. And I love the fact that Blandine isn't there.
There's probably more I could say, and about the second I get this done I'm sure I'll think of it, but in conclusion: [heart!] Please continue this series in whatever form or fashion if you feel so inclined, though it's perfectly wonderful as a stand-alone, too.
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And...it's a divisive judgment in a lot of ways, but it's /supposed/ to be. It's a damned difficult issue to deal with. On one hand, a Redeemed has been judged by God and found worthy of, at the very least, continued existence. Their repentence is sincere. On the other hand, this is a Prince. She is, in absolutely no manner, an innocent victim. Or a victim of any sort. She's the victimizer. She's done things beyond speaking, and encouraged those beneath her. She's corrupted souls by her very presence, and created souls which are twisted and broken from God's plan. However sincere the repentence may be, Dominic cannot allow those injuries done to be trivialized or forgotten.
And, of course, I hope that it's fairly clear from Beleth's descriptions, that she desires punishment. She doesn't believe that she can possibly make up for what she's done, and the atonement is as much for her benefit as it is for that of her victims.
Mostly, this series is going to try to explore some tricky issues of Judgment and Superior relations.
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Beleth's desire for punishment is crystalline, oh yes. (As, really, any Prince should be, should they Redeem.) The raking herself with her nails? Again with the creepy and the good. It also brings out the age of them, since it's evocative of the people who went around flaying themselves in penance for the world's sins at the turn of the millenium. (I forget their name.)
In which case, I'll be even happier, if that's possible, to see any more of it you want to write. *laughs*
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One question, though. I'm assuming, from your descriptions of Dominic and Michael, that you're portraying the various Celestials as being in their Celestial forms. Why, then, are Beleth and Blandine depicted as human? They're a Djinn and a Cherub, respectively; shouldn't they have animal forms?
Of course, once I've asked that, I can then turn around and argue with myself that Dominic and Michael are Seraphim, and thus would be pretty much obligated to show their true selves; any other Choirs wouldn't necessarily be under that restriction, and could theoretically present themselves however they saw fit. Was that your intention, or did you have something else in mind?
Another question: is there a reason behind the sudden change in tenses, from present to past, beginning in the tenth paragraph?
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And no, the tense change is just sloppy writing, I fear. It's a bad habit of mine.
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