Teja son of Tagila (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
ostro_goth) wrote2007-12-26 03:41 am
ostro_goth) wrote2007-12-26 03:41 am
OOM: Nativity in Ravenna, remembered
Whistling in the dark to bring the sun back, the faun had said.
That is basically how Teja would explain that holiday as well. He has never minded one way or the other about the winter solstice. He truly hates the summer solstice, though; but by its very nature, it is six months away from now. And if this strange afterlife keeps him here so long, he'll find a quiet corner to hide and grieve by himself while everybody else celebrates; he always did it that way, apart from the last year of his life, when the day marked the disastrous battle that cost Totila's life and left the unspeakable mess of the dissolving realm to Teja.
Summer solstice now would mark the day on which two of the dearest people in Teja's life died:- many, many years apart.
Compared to this, Teja has no particular opinion or memory about the winter solstice. It never truly made much of an impression on him. There was rest on those days, people celebrated this or that and might drag him along if they were able to lay hand on him and haul him out of hiding. 'You must come and feast with the men' or 'The king absolutely expects you at his table tonight' or 'People won't understand if you're not in church with the others' were the common arguments that Teja never bothered to fight much. Winter solstice never deserved his dislike that much.
For the people in this place, the midwinter festival seems to be more important, even, than the full moon that coincides with it. Teja is very aware of it this night as he is lying on the big fur rug in front of his own fireplace, in his room, and the moon is shining right into his window. He will not venture out tonight, or next night, though. He has learned his lesson.
There had been a full moon in the sky also, he remembered, that one year when the midwinter festival had found him in Ravenna, under the uneasy non-peace of King Witichis' reign. Was that the time when he'd refused the title of dux, or had that been another year? In any case, he remembered Totila pushing him from the room and declaring he had to come with 'us all' (whoever that happened to be, in that particular year; Totila was rather gregarious at times) to the Nativity service at the Arian church of Christ Our Saviour directly by the royal palace; and Teja was already being swept along by an occasional elbow in his ribs before he could even think of a reason not to that would not entail a discussion.
Totila had that sort of effect.
Aligern had been in that group of younger nobles that were walking the few steps to that church, Teja remembered; he'd shrugged at his be-Totilaed cousin with a grin. Knowing and understanding more of Teja's sad history than anybody else had never meant that Aligern would take all of Teja's dark moods completely as seriously and tragically as Teja himself. Had it been the summer solstice, Aligern would have quietly, deftly extracted Teja and made sure he was left alone; but now, there was no reason he shouldn't tag along with everybody else, was there?
It never got truly cold here by the sea; but cold enough, in the north of Italy, that in midwinter, the breath of the men talking on the way to church would show in clouds of steam in the crisp night air, and the warm cloaks were in use. The palace showed traces of the destruction during the fighting that had taken place here recently; it had never been in such a state during the reign of King Theodoric.
There were many men and women about, even their children, with torches; but the native Ravennates, Roman citizens of orthodox Christian belief, would calmly cold-shoulder the Gothic invaders as they went about their own business, to their own churches. The citizens of Ravenna were odd people, living behind strong gates and high walls, going about their business and tolerating their barbaric rulers as long as they kept to their own palaces, churches, baths and houses and brought good business to the city. They would unflinchingly swindle any man not of their own, and never volunteer an answer to anything when their was a chance they could watch the barbarians flail in their ignorance, unsmilingly, grimly amused.
Open hostility was rare, though, and the little girl with the dark curls that stuck out her tongue at the passing, chatting Gothic nobles in their rich cloaks, was admonished in a hiss from the cloaked grown-up that hurried her along, on separate ways.
Lights were blazing from the open door of the church, and a subdued babble of voices speaking Gothic swept Teja inside. Some of the soldiers, craftsmen, farmers among the Goths turned their heads and let the young nobles through; but basically, all free Goths were equal, and so curiosity won over respect, in many cases. "... Duke Totila of Dacia, and the dark one must be..." Teja heard the middle of a conversation between two excited young women as Totila pushed him through the crowd, then hauled on his elbow sharply to prevent him from retreating behind one of the columns that supported the wall with the famous mosaics.
Up there, King Theodoric was looking out forever from the portico of the very palace that they had left just now, more tidily and orderly than it was now, with some of his family beside him under other porticoes. Of those, none survived barring Mataswintha, the current queen. Yes, Teja now remembered which year it would have been, as there was that red-haired, grim and icy Amalung queen beside Witichis; he led her along the aisle that the assembled Goths opened down the middle of the church. The enmity between them was almost palpable to those that knew about it; but it wasn't public knowledge, and there was a quiet 'Ahhh' among the people that turned their heads in admiration, mostly, for Mataswintha, grand-daughter of Great Theodoric.
The king and queen were followed by chanting priests that walked to the front of the church and started going about their priestly business, which was protracted. Singing in Latin or Greek was easier to ignore than in Gothic, so Teja was unable to completely fade them out and look at the mosaics, reading the names of all the martyrs and virgins that paraded the walls, their stories partially obscure or apocryphal, but well-known to most of the Arian Goths in the church. This was put an end to by a nudge from Totila, whose sense of propriety seemed to be offended by his friend paying more attention to the gold-clad virgin saints on the mosaics, visibly craning his neck, than to the priests and acolytes that were now parading with a thickly smoking censer.
The next nudge was to make him sing ('Everybody knows you can!') when all joined in the hymn; and the next one was about a detail ('We sing the third verse of the Te Deum as well now, a gesture of goodwill!') that Teja understood, but cared nothing about. Men had died for that silliness about the Trinity, which Teja did not believe in anyway, no matter whether they were of the same substance, or the son created by the father, or whatever it was that year. Teja felt no sympathy or respect for such petty controversies among priests that involved many men better employed with the real troubles of the world.
Totila nudged him again ('Don't look so fierce, they're just priests, not assassins!'), and then the Nativity service was over, and after the king and queen had gone, everybody attempted to leave the church at once. In the press, Teja managed to be accidentally separated from Totila, Aligern and the rest, made his own way back to the lodging where palace officials had put him, and sat on a garden wall, listening to people making merry, and singing, from afar.
There had been a cat, Teja remembered, that came walking along the wall in the light of the full moon, found its way barred by a human, finally tried to climb over said human, and ended up in his lap for much of the night, until it grew too cold even for Teja.
Cats are, and always had been, much preferable to priests, Teja thinks, looking up at the full moon now, in this strange little place of an afterlife, this veritable nithinghejm.
It holds more cats than priests, which serves to recommend it.-
That is basically how Teja would explain that holiday as well. He has never minded one way or the other about the winter solstice. He truly hates the summer solstice, though; but by its very nature, it is six months away from now. And if this strange afterlife keeps him here so long, he'll find a quiet corner to hide and grieve by himself while everybody else celebrates; he always did it that way, apart from the last year of his life, when the day marked the disastrous battle that cost Totila's life and left the unspeakable mess of the dissolving realm to Teja.
Summer solstice now would mark the day on which two of the dearest people in Teja's life died:- many, many years apart.
Compared to this, Teja has no particular opinion or memory about the winter solstice. It never truly made much of an impression on him. There was rest on those days, people celebrated this or that and might drag him along if they were able to lay hand on him and haul him out of hiding. 'You must come and feast with the men' or 'The king absolutely expects you at his table tonight' or 'People won't understand if you're not in church with the others' were the common arguments that Teja never bothered to fight much. Winter solstice never deserved his dislike that much.
For the people in this place, the midwinter festival seems to be more important, even, than the full moon that coincides with it. Teja is very aware of it this night as he is lying on the big fur rug in front of his own fireplace, in his room, and the moon is shining right into his window. He will not venture out tonight, or next night, though. He has learned his lesson.
There had been a full moon in the sky also, he remembered, that one year when the midwinter festival had found him in Ravenna, under the uneasy non-peace of King Witichis' reign. Was that the time when he'd refused the title of dux, or had that been another year? In any case, he remembered Totila pushing him from the room and declaring he had to come with 'us all' (whoever that happened to be, in that particular year; Totila was rather gregarious at times) to the Nativity service at the Arian church of Christ Our Saviour directly by the royal palace; and Teja was already being swept along by an occasional elbow in his ribs before he could even think of a reason not to that would not entail a discussion.
Totila had that sort of effect.
Aligern had been in that group of younger nobles that were walking the few steps to that church, Teja remembered; he'd shrugged at his be-Totilaed cousin with a grin. Knowing and understanding more of Teja's sad history than anybody else had never meant that Aligern would take all of Teja's dark moods completely as seriously and tragically as Teja himself. Had it been the summer solstice, Aligern would have quietly, deftly extracted Teja and made sure he was left alone; but now, there was no reason he shouldn't tag along with everybody else, was there?
It never got truly cold here by the sea; but cold enough, in the north of Italy, that in midwinter, the breath of the men talking on the way to church would show in clouds of steam in the crisp night air, and the warm cloaks were in use. The palace showed traces of the destruction during the fighting that had taken place here recently; it had never been in such a state during the reign of King Theodoric.
There were many men and women about, even their children, with torches; but the native Ravennates, Roman citizens of orthodox Christian belief, would calmly cold-shoulder the Gothic invaders as they went about their own business, to their own churches. The citizens of Ravenna were odd people, living behind strong gates and high walls, going about their business and tolerating their barbaric rulers as long as they kept to their own palaces, churches, baths and houses and brought good business to the city. They would unflinchingly swindle any man not of their own, and never volunteer an answer to anything when their was a chance they could watch the barbarians flail in their ignorance, unsmilingly, grimly amused.
Open hostility was rare, though, and the little girl with the dark curls that stuck out her tongue at the passing, chatting Gothic nobles in their rich cloaks, was admonished in a hiss from the cloaked grown-up that hurried her along, on separate ways.
Lights were blazing from the open door of the church, and a subdued babble of voices speaking Gothic swept Teja inside. Some of the soldiers, craftsmen, farmers among the Goths turned their heads and let the young nobles through; but basically, all free Goths were equal, and so curiosity won over respect, in many cases. "... Duke Totila of Dacia, and the dark one must be..." Teja heard the middle of a conversation between two excited young women as Totila pushed him through the crowd, then hauled on his elbow sharply to prevent him from retreating behind one of the columns that supported the wall with the famous mosaics.
Up there, King Theodoric was looking out forever from the portico of the very palace that they had left just now, more tidily and orderly than it was now, with some of his family beside him under other porticoes. Of those, none survived barring Mataswintha, the current queen. Yes, Teja now remembered which year it would have been, as there was that red-haired, grim and icy Amalung queen beside Witichis; he led her along the aisle that the assembled Goths opened down the middle of the church. The enmity between them was almost palpable to those that knew about it; but it wasn't public knowledge, and there was a quiet 'Ahhh' among the people that turned their heads in admiration, mostly, for Mataswintha, grand-daughter of Great Theodoric.
The king and queen were followed by chanting priests that walked to the front of the church and started going about their priestly business, which was protracted. Singing in Latin or Greek was easier to ignore than in Gothic, so Teja was unable to completely fade them out and look at the mosaics, reading the names of all the martyrs and virgins that paraded the walls, their stories partially obscure or apocryphal, but well-known to most of the Arian Goths in the church. This was put an end to by a nudge from Totila, whose sense of propriety seemed to be offended by his friend paying more attention to the gold-clad virgin saints on the mosaics, visibly craning his neck, than to the priests and acolytes that were now parading with a thickly smoking censer.
The next nudge was to make him sing ('Everybody knows you can!') when all joined in the hymn; and the next one was about a detail ('We sing the third verse of the Te Deum as well now, a gesture of goodwill!') that Teja understood, but cared nothing about. Men had died for that silliness about the Trinity, which Teja did not believe in anyway, no matter whether they were of the same substance, or the son created by the father, or whatever it was that year. Teja felt no sympathy or respect for such petty controversies among priests that involved many men better employed with the real troubles of the world.
Totila nudged him again ('Don't look so fierce, they're just priests, not assassins!'), and then the Nativity service was over, and after the king and queen had gone, everybody attempted to leave the church at once. In the press, Teja managed to be accidentally separated from Totila, Aligern and the rest, made his own way back to the lodging where palace officials had put him, and sat on a garden wall, listening to people making merry, and singing, from afar.
There had been a cat, Teja remembered, that came walking along the wall in the light of the full moon, found its way barred by a human, finally tried to climb over said human, and ended up in his lap for much of the night, until it grew too cold even for Teja.
Cats are, and always had been, much preferable to priests, Teja thinks, looking up at the full moon now, in this strange little place of an afterlife, this veritable nithinghejm.
It holds more cats than priests, which serves to recommend it.-
no subject
And you might combine the coldness and the heartsickness -- coldness while he does it, heartsickness afterwards? Or he could coldly do something else, earlier in the story?
Hannibal Lecter is retired, as a character -- he's no longer being played, and he can't be re-apped by somebody else. Should anybody try and app him from 'Hannibal Rising' (which I haven't read yet!), that might be possible, with the agreement of Chips (Hannibal-mun; one of the few male Milliwaysers), but I think it's unlikely.-
So, for Teja to go off the rails and unfold his whole coldly destructive aspect, I will most likely have to find him plot in somebody else's world, where he can go and slaughter an entire whatever because he sees the necessity for it.
As for Toki and his band: they're from a animated cartoon that parodies Heavy Metal music, called Metalocalypse. Funny thing is -- the fictional band has released an actual album which is doing rather well. And yes, talking via IM to Toki- (and Pickles-)mun, I get the impression that keeping up that manner of speech needs some practice...]]