September 19th, 1999-Morning.

Once we had awakened I could tell that we were both unsure how to start the day. We had just begun a bit of 'how are you?' conversation when Arashiel poked her head in the door. She said that she was going to run some errands and, oh by the way, she had had a 'loomy' feeling and thought that she and the Painted Pot were being watched.
    Curious creature. She is full of contradictions and much harder to understand than Jael. As a servant of Michael should she not have remained at the Painted Pot to identify this feeling? Apparently there were more pressing items of business elsewhere. I have the most fervent belief that Arashiel thrives on being contrary . . . as a sort of re-essencing way of life. If this is the case, then she should be as powerful as an Archangel soon.
    No matter, I was more interested in Jael.
    "I'm mad, though not as mad as I was at three a.m."
    "I did a lot of thinking in the night. It was good time to think, really. I have felt all manner of emotions and come to many conclusions. Ultimately, I believe that I understand your actions, as much as I can . . . not having been a Cherub or a Creationer. I think I understand."
    Jael did nothing more than nod at that and I had the distinct feeling that the procedure I had gone through in the night, the neat segmenting of my emotions, had not taken place within her. I suspected she had a great deal more to say and was conflicted on what was right, both to say and within herself. Was she happy to be geased? Had she done it in haste and was she now regretting it? Or had she been planning it a while and knew it to be the right course of action. She was not forthcoming so I made my way downstairs to make coffee. I have noticed that Jael, like many of her kind, is quite attached to these rituals that mirror humanity. Useless, but they draw comfort from them perhaps.
    Coffee served, I made my way home.
    Found business, sweat, focus . . . purpose. All good for me and good for the world. It was relieving. I could draw some solace from the fact that this would always remain explicable, known. I began my class only to be interrupted a moment later.
    Ah . . . the Bright Lilim.
    Meridian, finding my walls stark and knowing of my recent painting attempts. I suppose that makes sense. She could offer no help for geas removal. I sent her on her way with thanks and returned to my exercises.
    My muscles aching, blood pumping . . . none of it could prevent me from thinking about the situation at hand. Jael was geased to the seneschal of the Nightmares tether in Manitou Springs. This woman had proven herself capable enough to assist in my interrogation. She was intelligent and cunning, that one. I could see it in her eyes, though not lacking the semblance of compassion when the appearance of it suited her needs. Nightmares . . . already visited upon myself and Arashiel as well. What would this servant of that heinous evil demand of Jael? Could she resist it? She says she can but can she really? If geas could be resisted what would their point be? There must be some catch, some compulsion to comply that is carried along tacitly through the connection. That could be bad for Jael in any number of ways. Eli said he was worried about her. Does he know something that we do not? Does Jael have something to fear from this seemingly innocent geas? I fear, knowing all that is infernal to be evil and nothing more, that no good were come of her generosity.
    I would remind myself that it is only due to my own weakness that she is in this predicament. But will that reminder help? I must try to put that behind me now and focus on what I can do for the present.
    What I CAN do for the present is return to the me I was. I have tried to help this group, function as a leader, spokesperson and guide. None have accepted me . . . in fact, all my efforts have been resisted with a vitriol unaccustomed. Jael said it was my delivery but I am beginning to believe more that it was due to the fact that I was trying to be something I am not. Who am I to try and herd a group of wild angels into coherence? I believe the best course of action, for now, will be to resume my former path. I have added a guide to assist me in its vagaries, which I am still happy for, but that will be it until I can come up with some sentience better suited to the task.
    In the afternoon the group arrived with Adrienne in voluntary lead. "The demon that killed the waitress is Arnu, the Demon of Dismemberment. He's looking for someone."
    Interesting that she should come to me with this information. I wonder where her allegiances are. That she came to me, at any rate, speaks of one purpose quite clearly. I will be expected to fight. That I can do.
    "As a Word-bound, we will not be able to take him ourselves," I pointed out to the assembled angels. No comment from any of them. With Jael before me and trying to be more cognizant of Adrienne's possible future for Matt, I asked the Lilim, "Is there anything we can do to help you?"
    "I might be abler to find him for you but if I do you had better all be there to take him."
    "We will be."
    And they left.
    Arashiel joined me in the evening so that I could show her the Song of her interest once more. She did not seem particularly out of sorts until she started spouting that she was bored.
    "I feel like we are waiting. I'm tired of waiting. We should make something happen. Now!"
    Curious. Since we are unprepared for any form of offensive Arashiel must be wanting to engage them, the enemy, in that state. To liven things up perhaps.
    "Perhaps we should head to the Painted Pot," was my only reply. Along the way I asked her what she thought we should do to precipitate events.
    Arashiel spoke of Adrienne, Arnu . . . various ideas. "I feel there's so much we need to know and instead we sit around and react!"
    Had I been a human at that moment I would probably have broken into hysterical laughter . . . laughter tinged with some amount of bitterness no doubt. How ironic that less than a week after I was saying the same thing Arashiel, who hardly spoke a word in support, should be mimicking the very phrases I so ineffectively used. The hypocrisy was galling. I would not participate in her desire to force a blood bath, not would I work to offer ideas that would only be ridiculed and tossed aside out of hand. So, as they chatted, I made a pot.
    My hopes for the evening were that Jael and Arashiel, freed up from having to conform to anything other than their pure, creation way of thinking, might come up with some sensible plan. No luck on that one. No, instead we went to the restaurant where Bob and the waitress had both worked. I felt this was a mistake . . . should Arnu be continuing a reign of terror upon Bob's former co-workers, this would be an inadvisable place to show ourselves. Were this not the case, we still knew that Arnu had been there of late. It was not wise to go there.
    I kept these thoughts to myself, however, and soon I was seated with Jael and debating what to eat. Mexican food, new to me, smelled quite pungent. I asked Jael what she thought I should eat.
    "I recommend you eat the Creationer."
    Oh! That brought an involuntary smile to my lips . . . a very happy and relieved and gratified and wonderful smile, though it was small. She would recover. I was beginning to wonder. She was not the happy, passionate Jael yet . . . but she would be. I was actually beginning to look forward to our meal and luxurious conversation.
    We were interrupted, however. Apparently Matt had stormed out of the restaurant. Arashiel, for some reason, felt that Arnu was nearby and had done this. Having nothing else to go on, we all left as quickly as possible. I remained, in sparrow form, to watch for Arnu by resonating all that left the restaurant. There was a chance that he would get out without my finding him since I could not cover both exits at once.
    As I was patiently awaiting the departure of all within, I went over the information that Arashiel had given us. That something had happened to Matt was almost certain. While prone to rash behavior, his actions are rarely angry in demeanor. That it was definitely Arnu was less clear. This could have been any Habbalah . . . one working with Arnu perhaps. Granted, if Arnu had a penchant for this place it could easily have been him again and the possibilities pointed to this outcome, I believe. But it is not certain.
    Ultimately, the night's dining was done and I had to return to the Board with no information. The curse of this group, paranoia, smote me full upon nearing my home. What if this place, like the Painted Pot, was also being watched? Not wanting to sleep and wary of whatever might be lurking, I moved continuously around the Board, resonating all. It was an active and pensive night.

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