Fallen Angel

Chapter 1.2

Joan had made her decision. She'd be damned if she'd let them take her wings, so there really was only one thing to do. Upon returning to the Vale, she set out to find both Gabriël and Michael. She had a feeling they would be together. If she knew Michael, which Joan believed she did, he had undoubtedly followed their discussion from up on his balcony and would want to question Gabriël about it. He always claimed he didn't use his sight unless an emergency arose, but Joan found that hard to believe. Somehow, the Lord Protector always knew what was going on where. The only thing deterring his sight was the privacy of one's home. Even he was not allowed to intrude on someone like that.
On her way to Michael's home, Joan passed the central plaza - the Agora. It was a place of gathering, foremost for the poets, singers, and musicians among them, yet all were, of course, welcome. For some strange reason, the actors needed an actual theatre. She was told it was a replica of the one where Shakespeare had opened his plays. It had never really interested her.

Joan came upon the winged lions guarding the entrance. Their heads turned to follow her movements as she walked by, but they did not attack. They knew she meant no harm. Still, she proceeded with caution. Those beasts could crush someone in the blink of an eye if they wanted to. Once she'd safely climbed the steps, she allowed herself to breathe again.
A shiver ran over her body as she entered the inner courtyard and caught the sun's reflection on the water in the pool as it clattered down from the fountain. She didn't enjoy coming to this place. In all those centuries, Joan had only been come to Michael's private home on invitation, which was just fine by her. From what she understood, the mansion on top of the hill was in the style of the Roman villas and was thus aptly named the Villa. She always wondered why he'd decided on that particular style, but it certainly reflected much of its owner. Cold and sparse of any decoration and colour, except for the occasional statue and curtain.
There was only one room Joan enjoyed visiting on these premises - the armoury. Michael had weapons of every age and every size, but only the ones used in honourable and 'gentlemen's combat', as he liked to say. No bombs or missiles, but all the swords and sabres ever made. Spears, various bows, daggers... He even had a pistol or two for duelling. Joan would never deny he was a good fighter, because he was certainly that. He trained daily, either with the army or on his own, constantly changing weapons to make sure he kept his skills up. If Michael would only listen to her...

"Joan. What brings you here?"

Michael stood at the top of the stairs, Gabriël just behind him. They both wore their regular clothing. Michael looked like a Roman Emperor, while Gabriël appeared more like one of those famous Greek gods she could never remember the names of. She shook her head and blinked a sudden intrusive thought away, forcing herself to remember why she was here.

"I was wondering if I could speak with you," she said. "Both of you?"

The two Archangels looked at each other. A streak of anxiety crossed Gabriël's face. His jaw stood clenched, and he was trying very hard not to meet Joan's gaze. Clearly, her previous assumption of Michael questioning Gabriël on her had been spot on.

"Certainly," said Michael then. "Come up; we will speak in the parlour."

Joan did as she was told and continued up the next flight of stairs. There were only two rooms Michael allowed people in, one being the war room on the left for any meetings with his generals and advisors, and the other a sort of presence chamber for those who requested an audience with him. This parlour hosted a couple of Roman beds surrounded by sheer draping and decorated with only a few pillows. Wine and fruit were already present on the small tables. Michael and Gabriël fit right into the decor, but as Joan was still dressed in her Earth clothing, she felt somewhat out of place. It was almost like she had travelled through time.

Follow protocol, she thought as she took a small tip of wine at Michael's invitation. And stay calm.

"So Joan, what is it you wish to say to us?" he inquired.