05.05.3014: From The Volkan Chantry
Summary: Victor goes to bring Devon back from the Volkan Chantry.
Date: 02 January, 2014
Related: None directly.
Devon Victor 

The Volkan Chantry, Lichen Plains, Primus
The sweltering heat and reddish glow of Volkan dissipates the moment one steps through the Ways. There is a faint coolness here accompanied by a stark dryness. The reddish hue of the industrialized city dissipates, replaced by warm orange and yellow of the lichen plains. The exterior of the chantry is a gleaming edifice of blackened metal with tall windows with an iridescent sheen. It is overlooks the grand expanse of the plains.

Inside the chanty, it is primarily a long, rectangular nave with soaring ceilings that curve into a smooth arch. There are narrow windows at the base of the arch that filters in light, illuminating the etchings in the dark metal which depict artistic whorls and geometric lines. There are rows and rows of pews with an aisle running down either side and through the middle. The floors are paved in high polished black marble that is accented by six radiating lines that emerge from the six statues that stand just behind the wide altar. Each statue represents one of the gods, with the three female faces to the left and the three male faces to the right with the Sage and Crone at the center. They are carved from polished white stone with metal accents.

05 May, 3014

In Volkan, the hour is late and the skies are dark with just stars and a hangnail moon for illumination. In the Chantry of Volkan, the sun is just beginning to set, sending fire across the clear horizon. The tall, narrrow windows are filled with this red and orange light. These hues nicely match those of the single occupant of the Chantry — a very pregnant woman of twenty-something, swathed in silks and leather. She stares up at the statues of the Six, rubbing a bit of velvet cloth between her fingers. There are fresh offerings at the feet of the Crone — unsurprising for the Grantham in the pews — but there is also a little something for the Mother.

Victor makes his slow way into the Chantry, touching his fingertips to lips and chest in the vertical sign of the Knight… and then after a moment, crossing his fingertips from shoulder to shoulder to make it the cross of the Father instead. His dark eyes find the ever-growing figure of his wife, and he turns his steps in that direction, moving over to rest a hand on her shoulder, then sliding it up to the back of her head, announcing his presence without interrupting her prayers with words.

Devon looks up at the touch to her shoulder and then the back of her head. She smiles up toward him in that reverent silence. Then she scoots down a bit so that he can join her in the pew. "I thought you were still on patrols," she says in a soft murmur. She turns her gaze up at the Knight. "I have already said my prayers for your safety… now I fear they are for naught." She starts to smile a bit broader before she stops fussing with the velvet, which appears to belong to a bag with the sigil of the Chantry embroidered on its exterior.

Victor rumbles a chuckle at the greeting, "Got me back, didn't it?" He settles down, plucking idly at a rather small bandage across one cheek, "How long you been here, Dee?" He leans back in the pew, leaving his fingertips in contact with the back of her skull and his arm slung along the back of the bench. "Didn't seem like you were sleepin' all that well. The little drake keepin' you up again?"

"I suppose it did," Devon murmurs to her husband, and she leans her head a bit back into his fingertips as if encouraging the pressure. Then she looks up toward the statues once more. "Dreams," she says after a heartbeat. She sighs as she slumps back a bit more into the pew. "More snow… more blood…" She shakes her head now. "And last night, I saw a giant ship that covered the entire sky of Volkan." She offers him a bit of a weary smile. "They jar me awake, and I think… they have been upsetting him." She brushes her hand down across her taut belly.

Victor smooths his fingers out across the back of her head to support the slumping lean of her head. "I think that would upset me." There's a bit of forced amusement to the words, and he smirks faintly. "Ice and snow are for the bears. Not drakes." There's a soft, musing sound, and he nods his head, "A giant ship. Like, one of those Hollolas ones? Or, in the sky, guess that means…" And then he stops, blinking and turning in the pew to face her, "'Him?' You checked?"

"It was… like an enormous ramship," Devon says, struggling to explain. "Though I have seen ships of the Hollolas as well." She hesitates a bit as he turns to face her, and she blinks in return. "Oh…" She then offers a small smile, and shakes her head. "No… just… a feeling." She rubs at her belly a bit, feeling a gentle kick of approval from within. Then she returns her pale gaze to the statue of the Mother. "I just wish I knew why these dreams are the way they are… snow could be anywhere… and this is the second time I have seen much in the way of blood."

Victor nods his head slowly, "So, symbolism, not something straight forward and easy." Wry amusement flickers in his voice, and he turns his body a bit, drawing her head toward his shoulder lightly, "I'll leave the symbols and themes to you, Dee. Just let me know when you find something for me to hit. 'Cause there's been a lot of blood already, and there's gonna be a lot more." He's silent for a thoughtful moment, then draws his head back slightly, "Second time? What happened after the first time?"

That head of fire-colored hair rests easily on the large shelf of her husband's shoulder. His bodily warmth and faint musky smell are two things she has grown so accustomed to that she almost misses them when they are absent. Devon intakes a deep breath, straightening up slightly at his question. "Rains of blood that brought about fresh grasses and flowers… I believe it was that… life comes from the bloodied fields we sow." She shivers a bit as if a chill has swept through the chantry. "This time feels different, Victor… blood is all there is."

Victor drops his free hand down to rest on her burgeoning abdomen a moment, "Life from the bloodied fields." The shiver causes him to frown a bit more, "Then we'll have to work to make sure it's mostly their blood, not ours." As ever, pragmatism rules the day, "I've been pondering trying to get in to see that big fucker that cracked in my head. See if there's anything to learn from their Elites. Maybe there's something there that can help with the blood and the ice and all that." His lips pull back from his teeth just a bit, "Hell, Fifth World's all ice and snow, maybe we'll be takin' a trip out there for a bit of payback."

"Don't," Devon says in a hush toward her husband. "Don't go see it." She ducks her head a bit, playing with the velvet satchel once more. "There is nothing else to gain from talking to them. How far did you really get with the Soldier?" She glances up toward him now, her eyes holding a bit of weary guilt. "And what do you think you could get from, from… I heard what it did, Victor." She then starts to rub at her belly once more, feeling the tension build as a bit of stress gathers around her shoulders.

Victor frowns at the hushed response, tilting his head back a little to study her with an inch or two more of distance. "I learned a lot about the Soldier. How to piss them off, how to anticipate some of their responses." His hand settles back on her skull, rubbing gently, "I won't go if you don't want. But what the Elite did, it wasn't that off. Only thing I'd do different is I would've waited until I had a chance to kill a couple more or to get out too."

Devon averts her eyes after a moment, and she offers a faint nod of her chin. There is a thoughtful quiet from the young Khourni wife, her gaze lifting to meet the stone stare of the Crone once more. A wordless prayer is offered, and then she turns to her husband once more. Her hand slides across his smooth pate by ways of his cheek, drawing him close so that she may press her lips to his in a gentle, affectionate expression. "I know you would," she murmurs to him.

Victor starts to lean over toward her as she murmurs, and then she turns to him, and his lips curve upward against hers. He returns the gentle kiss, then straightens up again, "So. You have dinner yet? Or did you come here straight from work like the doc told you not to?" Tilting his head up, he presses his lips to her forehead, then sits back in the pew, "'Cause the closer you get, the less you get to ignore those instructions."

"I ignored them," Devon confesses quietly, leaning her forehead into his lips. Then she lifts her chin so that she can smile easily up at him. "But… I imagine you are going to see about taking me to that little barbeque walk-up down in the commercial district." Her brows arch over her pale eyes, her expression becoming gentler. "Perhaps even a touch of ice cream?"

A slow laugh builds up from Victor's chest, "You're the pregnant lady. You get to choose what you eat. I just follow along and pick up the tab." Okay, so technically Jevon picks up the tab. Rising from the pew, he reaches down to help her to her feet, "Barbecue and ice cream, comin' right up." He grunts theatrically, "Damn, that's gonna be a big fuckin' baby, isn't it?"

"Oh, shut up," Devon says good-naturedly as she gets to her feet, breathing out a heavy sigh as she feels the weight return to her limbs. She breathes out a sigh as she settles back into her gait, waddling a bit up the aisle until her husband can step up beside her. "I was talking to Ashleigh and Beden," she murmurs, and then hesitates. "And Flint." She lifts her gaze up to him. "Have you thought of names yet?"

Victor settles in alongside Devon as they make their way up the aisle, resting his arm on her shoulder and his hand at the back of her neck. "How'd that go?" Then the question follows, and he grunts softly, "Nope. Figured it'd come to us at the right time. You know, when there was a screaming little kid in your arms." Chuckling again, he shrugs his broad shoulders, "Might not have been the smartest plan in the world."

Devon is quiet for a long moment as she walks alongside her husband toward the shimmering Ways portal that fills the doorway of the chantry. "Perhaps so," she finally agrees with a bit of a gentle smile. "And… it went okay. Everything will be okay." She then rests her head against his shoulder gently before she turns her focus to the Ways once more. "Lets go eat."

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