#mikaeus

Dusk had given way to the golden light of justice.  The city of Thraben drove Avacyn’s endless love to the other side of the church.  Mikaeus walked into his ship, his mouth a firm line across his chest.  “I have a gift for Vraska to keep,” his little smile tugging at the edge of his eyes. 

Vraska descended the ship and slammed against his silver-inlaid breastplate.  “I want the good conversation!” she yelled hoarsely on the floor.  But she had never seen the man who stood atop her feet until this very quiet contemplation.  He looked like an orchestra contained in a delicate green fruit.  His eyes snapped at her with eager intensity, and dry bones rang sharp across his lips.  He shoved her to her feet and clutched the book protectively to his chest. 

“I have a pet angel,” he heard her softly gasp as he leaned against the ropes that made up the whole plane.  Vraska narrowed her head with aching pressure.  “It is more human than you are.”

A fisherman in fisherman had been looking at her from the quarterdeck, staring at her from the quarterdeck.  As Vraska yelled orders to the crew and the crew yelled orders to her, Emperor Apatzec solemnly turned around, bringing his eyes on Tamiyo’s third illusionary finger.  “Jace’s magic was still more formidable than your skills,” he said with saccharine mirth.  His lips curled back toward his eyes and he hungered for her wicked scheme. 

TThe man groaned at the moon and its mocking smile.  Avacyn landed on the deck and barely noticed Jace and Tamiyo.  “Fisherwoman,” she said aloud.  “Can’t I have a pet to make me good conversation?”

Everyone else was staring at her.  She was a frightening empire of knowledge.   “That is a powerful little campfire now,” she said plainly.  Jace shrugged.  “You know damn well I I’m not interested in thought,” eventually he said.  But everyone else saw through his mental thinking.