(no subject)

[swords-love-me.livejournal.com]

Date: July 6 2000, morning
Status: Semi-Private (War, Uriel, at least) - Completed
Setting: War’s Room, then Front Desk
Summary: War, worried about her nukes, tells Uriel about the window.


War let out a battle-cry in frustration, and sat down on the bed. Somewhere in the world, a scouting light aircraft that wasn’t designed for it shot forward, breaking the sound barrier, and tore itself apart in a ball of flame. She sighed. There just wasn’t space in her room anymore for all of the pretties. She decided that maybe it was time to put the nukes, at least, in those metal cupboards down in that basement room.

She was about to gather them up into her duffel bags, pulling them from under the bed and out of the wardrobe, when she stopped, and thought: how was it she’d found that room in the first place? There was a broken window up by the ceiling in there now, and the nukes weren’t going to be too happy if the room got flooded next time it rained. Grimacing lightly, she tossed the warheads onto the bed, and headed down stairs to the lobby.

Approaching the front desk, she leant on the counter and looked at the woman sitting behind it. She didn’t recognise her, but figured she must be working for the Manor.

“Morning, lady,” she greeted her. War tended to be on the abrupt side of polite. “I’ve come to report a breakage. One of the basement windows is smashed out, and it needs fixing. Can you ask someone to sort it out?”

Comments

[bipolar-uriel.livejournal.com]

Uriel looked at the woman talking to her. She of course recognized War. Trying to ignore the slightly embarrassing memories of the snowball fight (and pushing aside the threatening feeling of mania those memories stirred up) she smiled and nodded. "I'll see that it gets fixed," she said.

After a moment's hesitation, she added, "It's nice to see you're here again. You wouldn't be responsible for that... well... disturbance yesterday, would you?"

[swords-love-me.livejournal.com]

If she had been anyone else, she would have had the grace to look somewhat discomfitted.

However, being War, she turned her orange eyes on the woman and said brusquely, "Thanks. Can you let me know when it's done?"

She paused, and looked at her quizzically. "It's good to be back. And if you're talking about the aeronautical fireworks, then yes, actually." Her gaze challenged her to find a problem with this. "Who're you, though?"

War wasn't used to people apparently knowing who she was when she didn't know who they were. It was a complete reversal of the usual situation.

[bipolar-uriel.livejournal.com]

"I kind of thought it was you," Uriel commented lightly. "There aren't many people around here who would cause quite as remarkable a show."

Didn't War recognize her? Or -- oh, of course. "Oh, I'm sorry." Uriel suddenly realized the mistake she'd made. "We met before -- in the snowball fight, unless my memory fails me. And it hasn't done so in the last six millennia, so..."

She smiled. "I am Uriel. The archangel, if you recall. I was quite a bit taller the last time we met. And somewhat less female."

[swords-love-me.livejournal.com]

War kept her face blank, but inside her head her thoughts were raging. Uriel? Archangel Uriel was a woman? Well, woman-shaped, anyway, she thought wryly, mentally looking herself up and down. Things had clearly changed while she’d been keeping herself to herself, and globe-trotting from war-zone to another. On the other hand, she’d seen most of the people she knew around, even if she hadn’t got involved in things going on at the Manor, so maybe Uriel had been keeping himself – herself, now, she supposed – below ground a fair bit.

“Well, you certainly have changed a bit,” she said, with a twist of her mouth that could have been a wry smile, if you’d looked closely[1]. “Like you say, a fair bit smaller than I remember. You’d probably have more luck hiding behind snow forts now, though.”

She suddenly remembered what Mictain had said to her back in February, when she’d gone to fetch him from St. James’s Park (http://community.livejournal.com/outside_omens/4992.html?thread=24704#t24704). "It's Uriel. He's - from what I've managed to figure out, he's not exactly right in the head. Or more like completely nuts, absolutely crazy, fucked up beyond any measure. And he has a tendency to go for self-destructive behaviour when things aren't going his way, too..." Maybe best to tread carefully. Or try, at least, given her usual standards. Violence – War was one thing, but this…

She tilted her head. “How long have you been working at the reception, though? Everything OK?”

---------

[1] Given it was War, though, you probably wouldn’t have wanted to (at least without warning), if you wanted all your bones intact afterwards

[bipolar-uriel.livejournal.com]

"Hiding behind them? Wouldn't melting them down be more like it?" Uriel grinned a bit, then shrugged. "I've never relied much on physical strength, so it gives me a certain advantage in a fight. You wouldn't believe how many people don't expect a woman to carry weapons." This excuse would hopefully be one that War approved of, at least enough so to prevent any further questions.

The next question surprised her a bit. It disturbed her a little that she actually had to make an effort to appear calm -- back before she'd arrived to the Manor she had always looked calm, even expressionless. Well, aside from any episodes, anyway.

"I'm as fine as I can be in a place like this," she replied, shrugging. "I've only been working here for a few days now. They needed somebody to tend the front desk, I needed something to do. It was quite simple as to what could be a possible resolution to the problem."

[swords-love-me.livejournal.com]

War laughed. "Yeah, there've been a fair few times when suitors in bars haven't expected the leggy redhead to have flick-knives strapped to her wrists."

As she said "flick-knives", however, her mood sobered, and more so when she heard Uriel's response to her last question. She knew that Uriel wasn't OK, even by the standards of this place - she trusted Mictain enough to know that he hadn't been lying to her when he'd told her about Uriel - and yet Uriel was lying to her. Not the sort of thing you shout around, I guess, she thought grimly.

It made sense, though, that Uriel took the chance to have something to do when that chance came up. Who knew - maybe it had already helped her settle down. She seemed calm enough at the moment, though, so maybe things were different. War decided she wasn't going to pry, and would let things lie, at least for as long as they seemed to be OK.

"Well, I'm glad you've got something to do - must be nice getting to talk to everyone as they pass through. Let me know about that window, though, won't you - I've got plans, and they don't involve that room getting flooded."

No need to go telling everyone all her plans, she thought. Even the worst generals knew that.

[bipolar-uriel.livejournal.com]

"Oh, you needn't worry. I'll make sure it's fixed by tomorrow. Then you can go on with whatever plans you have." She could go and miracle the window fixed around lunch. No need to bother anybody else about it.

"I wouldn't know about suitors in bars," she then said -- after all, she'd only been in a bar once, and even that one time she had known exactly who she was looking for, and left soon. "Bothersome brothers are easy enough to surprise, though." She flicked a dagger from her sleeve into her hand to demonstrate this point.

[swords-love-me.livejournal.com]

Good, thought War. She'd shift the nukes tomorrow afternoon.

She wasn't surprised when Uriel flicked the dagger out from under her sleeve: War tended to be more surprised at people who didn't carry weapons, even nowadays. Didn't people realise the place wasn't safe with her influence around? She was, however, vaguely impressed at the small woman, though she couldn't help but be haunted by Mictain's words. What if the dagger wasn't just for self-protection..?

Brushing the thought aside - after all, Uriel did seem perfectly well-adjusted - she looked round the lobby and said, "Well, I guess I'd best get on. The longbow strings need packing away in more oilcloth. See you around, I guess."

[bipolar-uriel.livejournal.com]

Uriel nodded. "See you," she said, only the tiniest bit awkward. She didn't really know what to say when parting with people who weren't angels. Her customary 'May the Presence be with you' really didn't work with anybody but the other angels, and perhaps a few neutral people. And the number of angels seemed to get smaller all the time.