(no subject)

[swordmaid-saint.livejournal.com]

Date: July 30
Status: Public
Setting: Entryway, Corridors
Summary: Joan arrives.


Joan knocked wearily on the manor door. When no one answered, she dragged it open and walked in. She supposed she should go find that Adam boy and get a room, but she felt too ennervated at the moment. With all the misdirections, protections, and illusions surrounding the manor, she had been going in circles around it for weeks.

Is it this hard for everyone to get into? she wondered, or just people who are officially bound to fight? She laughed to herself. Maybe I should have called in a reservation, she thought sardonicly.

She slumped to the ground inside the doorway and leaned against the wall. She would get up and get herself situated in a minute. For the moment, however, she had reached her destination, and she could finally take a bit of rest.
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[demon-mictain.livejournal.com]

Uriel was not currently in the lobby, Mictain noted. Ah, well, it didn't matter. It wasn't like he was truly looking for her; rather, he was wandering around, being too bored of sitting in his room to do anything else. Of course, he wouldn't have exactly protested if he'd got the opportunity to talk with Uriel. Maybe he could have made her slip something that could be useful in the quest of finding out what exactly had happened between her and Pestilence.

However, somebody else was indeed there. Somebody with brown hair, green eyes, and a definitely female appearance. Somebody he knew very well but hadn't expected to ever see again.

Walking closer, he then looked down at the apparently exhausted being. A bit hesitant -- since he had no idea how she would react to him -- he asked, "Jeanine? What are you doing here?"

[swordmaid-saint.livejournal.com]

Joan looked up, startled by the use of her original name.

It was Michael.

A streak of red glared in his blond hair, and some indescribable, fundamental difference in the way he carried himself proclaimed the change he had borne, but he was still her Michael. No longer tired, she surged to her feet, stood on tiptoe, and threw her arms around his neck, hugging him tightly.

"Michael! Oh my gosh, I've heard so many different stories - I'm so glad you're okay - I thought you'd been banished - well thank God I didn't have to search in Hell for you -"

She stopped and stepped back, blushing.

"Sorry I'm babbling. I was just worried about you." She paused, not sure how he would take the news.

"I'm kind of your replacement," she muttered, looking away, hands unconsciously clasped behind her back, feet apart, in the soldier's stance Michael had taught her.

[demon-mictain.livejournal.com]

Whatever reaction Mictain might have expected, it wasn't this. A bit bewildered, she let her hug him, vaguely relieved that she didn't seem to be against him.

"I was indeed banished, for a time," he said. "However, I got close to death and Adam allowed me back to be healed. I then managed to convince him that I'd reconsidered my attitude and wouldn't cause any further trouble. Which is actually true as far as I am concerned. If you'd come a couple of months earlier, however, I wouldn't have been here to be found."

He raised an eyebrow as she blushed. "You? Worried about me? I'm surprised. I would have rather thought you would hate me now for what I've become."

Replacement? That sounded interesting. "What do you mean by replacement?" he asked. "You're no more an angel than you were before, but... Are you the new Captain?" A grin spread onto his face. To think that Jeanine was leading the angels who would have let her rot in Hell... Oh, if this wasn't precious.

[swordmaid-saint.livejournal.com]

"Yep," she replied proudly, glad he wasn't mad at her for taking his place.
"Commander with all the tassels. And it's all thanks to your training you know."

She gave him an 'oh, please' look. "I demons for making my existence EVEN MORE PAINFUL THAN HELL USUALLY IS OUT OF SPITE -" she stopped shouting and took a deep breath, forcing herself to be calm. "But you weren't a demon than and I don't think you're particularly fond of even now." The calm started to settle in.

"You didn't desert me when I was damned, and I'm certainly not going to abandon you." No matter what your other friends did, she thought angrily. She kept her face clear and her expression amiable; revenge on her own side was not something she could pursue right now.

"Anyway, I just got here, and I need to find a room, or the manager - antichrist, right? weird. anyway - any help in navigation would be appreciated." She grinned, remembering the time when, after the three saints hadfirst come to her, she'd tried to escape her angelic visitations by running away from home and Michael had found her hopelessly lost in the marsh outside Doremy.

[demon-mictain.livejournal.com]

"Well, it's nice to know at least somebody is still on my side," Mictain said, smirking a bit. "And no, I'm not fond of demons even now. Myself excluded, of course.

"As for room, the manager, or navigation help, the front desk should be the best place to look for any of those. Only, Uriel isn't there right now -- she's the one minding it at daytime --, so you may have to wait for a while."

Just then, however, he noticed a familiar form entering the lobby. "Ah. There she is."

[bipolar-uriel.livejournal.com]

Morning sickness was gone by now -- something she was extremely grateful for -- but her need for bathroom breaks had just increased. Although the baby often moved by now, at least some part of it seemed to always be pressing against her bladder. Thus, Uriel was now returning to the lobby, hoping nobody had been looking for her at the time.

Unfortunately, she wouldn't get away with it so easily. There was indeed somebody new there -- as well as somebody she had seen before. Both of them were people she hadn't exactly looked forward to meeting.

Joan. Michael's firmest supporter through thick and thin, never failing to speak in his defence even when others criticized his deeds. And, judging by what she saw, Joan wasn't about to desert Mictain, either. The saint probably hated her more than anyone.

Still, Uriel ran a hand over her belly in a subconsciously protective gesture -- her t-shirt for the day stated, 'Ask first, then touch'* -- and walked towards them, forcing herself to smile.

"Welcome, Joan," she said. "Can I help you in any way?"

---
*This was quite pointless, as the only one that far who was interested in touching her belly was Loki and he didn't bother to ask, but she didn't really care.

[swordmaid-saint.livejournal.com]

The Severer. Polite, petite, and unmistakably pregnant.

Wow, thought Joan, I really have been out of the loop. Stupid tournament. More importantly, when did that happen?

Joan had no intention of saying anything so insensitive, if for no better reason than a distinct fear of being drafted for babycare duties if she brought the subject up. Revelations and revolutions she could handle; children scared her.

She considered the small angel in front of her. She had Felled Michael, after all. Then again, Joan certainly knew how impossible it was to get out of a task once the Almighty gets it into His head to appoint you to it. And Uriel had been Michael's friend for centuries before Joan's birth. Of course, if she'd abandoned him, that made it even worse, but they seemed to be on decent sppeaking terms, at least...

Well. She would reserve judgement on the Severer.

"I plan on staying here for a while. I suppose I'll need a room, and if anyone wants to fill me in on the ground rules around here, I'd be grateful."

[bipolar-uriel.livejournal.com]

Uriel smiled, relieved that Joan apparently didn't hate her. Yet, anyway. Heading for the front desk, she began looking at her papers for a free room for Joan.

"The rules are quite simple," she said. "Don't hurt anyone and don't destroy anything you can't fix. Aside from that, there aren't rules, really. Just stand the people around you and don't cause trouble. If you fight too much, you'll get kicked out."

She looked at the paper in her hands. "Would you like a room next to Mictain's?" she asked, figuring the saint would say yes.

[swordmaid-saint.livejournal.com]

"Um."

Joan adored Michael, really she did, but -

He had been her commanding officer. It was like rooming next to her mother. Except that Isabelle Romee had never whacked her on the behind with the flat of a sword as a lesson to move faster. Or appearred blazing with righteous fire when one of her corporals kissed her drunk. Not that Michael was likely to act like a chaperone now but...

"I rather think we might be a bad combination, if we aren't supposed to break things. I've missed interacting with other-" sane "humans after so long Up There, maybe you could put me near some of them?"

[bipolar-uriel.livejournal.com]

Uriel shrugged, a bit surprised but not letting it bother her. "However you'd like it. There are quite a few humans on the third floor, so you should have no trouble finding them there."

A glance at another paper told her that there was a room free relatively close to her own. "If it doesn't bother you to live two doors from my room, here's one room you could have," she said. "Should you agree to it, just sign here. Mictain can surely show you the way there."

She smiled, trying to show that she had no ill intention.

[swordmaid-saint.livejournal.com]

Joan frowned slightly, reading over the paper Uriel had had indicated. It seemed innocuous enough, just an agreement to abide by the rules Uriel had mentioned and that her right to remain in the mansion would be forfeit if she broke them. Still, she hesitated. Joan didn't like signing things. She'd been forced to sign a confession of heresy during her farcical trial at Rouens. She'd recanted, and this was hardly the same thing, but she didn't have to like it.

But she did have to do it. Orders were orders, after all. Bite the bit, Jeanie, she reprimanded herself sternly. Are you going to let Michael see you go squeamish over something as insignificant as a rent contract in the face of duty?

She suppressed a grimace and signed her real, French name, though she'd intended to just write Joan of Arc.

"It's fine," she added to the anxious angel, wondering why she seemed so nervous. What was an Archangel the level of the Severer worried about?

Maybe it was a pregnancy thing. Thank God for making me a soldier, Joan thought fervently.

[bipolar-uriel.livejournal.com]

Uriel was surprised to see Joan hesitating about signing the paper. Really, what did she have to nervous about? As the saint did do it at last, though, she smiled, even more so as she heard Joan's simple reassurance.

"Sometimes, I wonder whether anything is fine anymore," she said in return, though. "Other times I decide nothing ever was."

She would have been surprised to know Joan's thoughts, however. After all, she did consider herself a warrior, and that hadn't stopped her from getting pregnant. She didn't know what Joan was thinking, though, and thus there was no further surprise or confusion to be seen on her face.

Uriel looked at the demon now, trying to hide her still-present fear. Once, she could have hidden almost any emotion. Now, it seemed it was impossible.

"The way there should be easy enough," she said. "Two doors to the right from my room. I trust you can guide her there?"

In return, Mictain smirked, cocking his head to one side. "I'll try not to get us both lost," he said.