Adapted by Eric Alfred Burns

("This owes much to both Jo Hart's write-up in Superiors 3, and Jo's Heretical write-up of a Fallen Blandine." - EAB)

Fighting her war in the Vale of Dreams, ranging from Hades to confront the Angels of her lost love, Blandine is a frightening contradiction - the champion of hope whose presence echoes no hope. The embodiment of love who wears the wounds of love like badges of honor. Never speaking, her message remains clear, and of all her Servitors, only Blandine can be said to never, ever rest.

The Cherub Archangel of Dreams never takes Cherubic form, instead always appearing as a beautiful, fragile woman of modest build and archaic dress - dress that changes from moment to moment - with milk white skin, and the purest of eyes (whose color also changes from moment to moment), her hair black as midnight and cascading to her hips, and within its black depths one can see the faint twinkle of stars, forming constellations that can bewitch for hours, if the Quiet Mistress will allow.

She communicates with her followers, her allies and humanity through dreams, never moving from the Dream Fastness she has built from the cold stone of Hades. Through metaphor and imagery she makes her wishes known -- which always means there is the chance of misinterpretation, and Blandine takes failure very personally. She takes everything very personally.

And yet, her Servitors -- including the bright Menunim, her Messengers of Hope even now -- love her with a fierceness that borders on obsession. To even speak ill of the Quiet Mistress is to invite a savage backhand from a Malakite of Dreams if you're lucky, and the destruction of hope in your loved ones if you're not.

Blandine still clings to the idea of the higher realms and ideas being metaphoric, not actual. To show the truth of such matters is not to inspire but cow, and she will not endure that. Therefore, any who take Celestial Form on the Corporeal Realm will take Dissonance, unless it is because they were slain Corporeally. However, her Servitors may use Celestial Songs on the Corporeal Realm. It is also dissonant to cause a dreamer's dreamscape to move into the realms of Fear, and a Servitor must use any means necessary to prevent this. If that means seducing the sleeper or encouraging their basest desires, then that's what it means.

Blandine attunes her Servitors to specific types of dreams. While in the Marches (on either side), the Angels of Dreams may make a Perception roll to see the kinds of dreams they're attuned to, and may use the CD as a bonus to enter those dreams and shape them. In the Corporeal Realm, they may use their natural Attunement to recognize those whose hopes and dreams reflect their type, and use the CD as a bonus to Dream Walk with them. Finally, if they enter a dreamscape of someone not reflecting their attuned type of dreams, they may make a Will based roll, and add the CD to any attempt to Dream Shape their dream to reflect the Servitor's Attunement.

There is nothing that says the Angel only finds positive dreams (or dreamers) with their Attunement, or that they have to sculpt dreams that reflect the best of humanity, naturally. Driving away Fear is the most important thing.

Note that this does not mean two Angels might not see the same dreamer as reflecting their Attunement. A man who dreams of discovering he is the true King of England by right of lineage is both dreaming of legitimacy (the province of the Seraphim) and Ambition (a Malakite's purview). That dream can then move on into Escapism, Vengeance, Acceptance, Transformation or all the rest...

Seraphim

The Most Holy of Blandine are attracted to the Truth, as all Seraphim are. Therefore, Blandine's Seraphim are attuned to dreams of Legitimacy - the quest for truth on the part of investigators of all stripes, the desire to have one's own dreams proven to be true, and the like. At the same time, Blandine's Seraphim also are attuned to - and encourage - dreams of being proven right at the expense of others. The scientist seeking the Unified Field Theory and the White Supremacist both dream of a kind of Legitimacy, after all....

Blandine's Cherubim are attuned to dreams of Acceptance. From the nervous lover who dreams of taking out his dream girl to the actor who dreams of getting the perfect part, the Cherubim of Dreams can sense the dreams of those who fear rejection and crave affirmation. There is no restriction on this - the pedophile who dreams of a community where young boys are available without censure will attract a Cherub as easily as the young black boy who dreams of a world without racism.

As swift and as energetic as any Wheel, the Ofanim of Dreams are attuned to Escapism! The driving urge and hope to be free, either of a specific situation (imprisonment, a dead end job, a loveless marriage) or of a general condition (the mundane world, a drab society, the ennui of the soul). Blandine's Wheels drive the engine of escape - either dreams of breaking free from their current situation or true escapist fantasies (which sometimes fuel Ethereals - certainly, Ofanim of Dreams promote flying with Superman, striving with Heracles or sleeping with Aphrodite where possible...). From dreams of Death Row Pardons to dreams of committing adultery with the boss's secretary, the Ofanim of Dreams are there.

The Barons respect honor, as all Malakim do. But their Attunement is to Ambition. The driving ambition of a holy cause. The hunger to advance in the workplace. The megalomaniacal drive to take over the world itself (some say a Malakite of Dreams acted as Hitler's personal bodyguard, only to have Roosevelt's own Malakite of Dreams - promoting the cause of destroying Nazism - strike his brother down). The Barons do not apologize for the dreams of conquest they help inspire - after all, Rome was a shining example of a Dream given form, or so they say. Then again, the Gauls (or the British, or the Germanic peoples...) might disagree...

The Powers of Dreams, passionately devoted to Dreams as a whole (as all Powers are), are the ones tasked with nurturing dreams of Vengeance. The revenge against a rival, against an oppressor, against a wrong (real or perceived) is a powerful motivator, and is strongly able to drive out fear. By encouraging these dreams of Revenge, the Elohim can promote Dreams over Fear. Naturally, the dark side of these dreams is obvious - but it's worth noting that Vengeance can also be Justice, and the Powers nurse those dreams as well.

Kyriotates of Dreams are happier than many of their Choir-mates, as their duties often let them travel within the dreamscapes of others and (naturally) the Marches and the Vale itself. This means that rather than spending a lot of time Corporeally (corrupting all they touch), they can exist within the dreams of humanity, working to help without causing pain. Their Attunement is for Transformation - the overweight man who dreams of becoming thin, the meek girl who dreams of becoming an amazon. Of course, more radical transformations are covered as well, including the desperate dreams of the special to become mundane.

The cheer and optimism of the Lilim - along with Blandine's quiet affection for Lilith herself - have led to a good number of the Charismatics joining Blandine's service and helping to drive away Fear. Blandine grants her Lilim an attunement to dreams of Desire - the yearning for things (or people) not had. This often manifests as materialism or sexuality, naturally enough, but any true yearning can draw a Lilim in. The bright spirit of the Lilim usually means they work to channel their dreamers' desires towards love and the desire for good things... but of course, there are many desires that Lilim never discuss after the dream.

Perhaps because they are the closest to humanity and the furthest from the divine, Blandine has attuned her Mercurians to dreams of Sensation. Tactile dreams, dreams of smell, dreams of intense sound... all of these fall into the Mercurians' realm. On the positive side, this attunes Mercurians to dreams of artists, musicians, poets and even fiction writers and playwrights as they experience the worlds they create in their dreams. Of course, there are less artistic sensual dreams they can be drawn to as well.

Blandine does still have her Messengers of Hope, and while they have many duties, some still protect Dreamers, the same as always. Blandine attunes her Menunim to dreams of Faith - faith in God, faith in one's family and friends, faith in one's self, faith in Santa Claus, or what have you. It's all one for the Messengers. One advantage this gives them is finding pessimists who have 'faith' that the worst possible results will happen (creating a kind of Fear and moving them to the Heavenly side of the Vale) and giving them a chance to pull them back to Blandine's side of the Marches.

As per p. 110 of the Core Rules.

Once, Blandine's Servitors only shaped dreams when it was necessary, content to let Dreamers feel their way through and experience a dreamer's dreamscape without imposing upon it, and allowing her Servitors to Sing the Ethereal and Celestial Songs of Dreams if they needed to do more. This is no longer true. Now, Blandine's Servitors are the masters of Dreamscapes, and may exert their will upon them as needed.

Treat possessing this attunement like possessing both the Ethereal and Celestial Songs of Dreams. They cost no Essence to invoke, and the Angel may add their Will to their Ethereal Forces to determine their target number to either alter the dreamer's skill rolls or to change their dream materially. Further, they may use this Attunement to make the dreamer identify them with the subject of their dream, even if they don't look like it. (A Lilim might make a dreamer believe she is his dead wife, for example, even though she doesn't look like the dead mortal -- the dreamer 'just knows' it's her.) The dreamer may resist with a Will Roll.

This is an extremely powerful Attunement in one's Dreamscape - a reflection of Blandine's policy of rescuing dreamers from Fear by any means necessary. Many Servitors use it judiciously, but an increasing number use the Dreamscapes of mortals as personal playgrounds, and at least one Servitor of Dreams has constructed his own ideal mate out of a Dreamer's dreams, convincing the dreamer to feed the fragment enough Essence to become an Ethereal itself. Blandine punishes those who too egregiously abuse dreamers this way, though these punishments grow less and less common while abuses are on the rise.

These Servitors can, with a touch either of a sleeping person's body or entering a person's Dreamscape in the Marches, ensure the person remembers his significant dreams in the morning.

With a Will Roll, these Angels can render an unresisting person to sleep instantly. This is a particularly restorative sleep, lasting (7-CD) hours, but the person awakens as if they've had all the sleep they need. The sleeper will dream, and is a candidate for the Dream Walking Attunement. If used against an unwilling target, the target may resist with a Will roll, the sleep only lasts (CD x 10) minutes, and is not particularly restful - but the sleeper dreams immediately.

A Master of the Night has +2 to any roll made while walking the Marches, and +1 to any roll made in the Corporeal Realm between sundown and sunrise.

In general, Blandine is distant. Her concerns are focused on the dreams of humanity and - more importantly - the defeat of Fear. This takes her away from most normal contact she has with the others. However, she does have some relations with her fellows. She appreciates and works with Eli and Raphael, whose goals and methods reflect Blandine's more than most. She also has noticed that Baal is protective of her and -some say coyly - accepts his assistance and returns it. And Blandine apparently feels some affection for Lilith, who not only freed the Exiles from their imprisonment but did so with a Tether to Dreams, which in turn brought Blandine back from her furthest edge.

Blandine is annoyed at some of the rougher treatment Ogiel and Uriel have given the Marches as they fight their covert war - though her 'hostility' is mild, it does exist. But it doesn't compare with her antipathy for most of the Host. She isn't directly hostile to Uriel mostly because he values her input (or that of her aides, at least) and works with her as much as he works with anyone, though his methods are damaging. Ogiel, on the other hand, has been alone and dispassionate for so long that he runs roughshod over the Near Marches when he sweeps through, often terrifying Dreamers (and sending them to Beleth's side). Indeed, one of Ogiel's known tricks is to have Servitors use the Song of Dreams to enter a Dreamscape, horrify the dreamer within, and ride their Dreamscape into the lands of Fear, where they emerge and strike. Blandine despises this.

Among the Host, Blandine seems to still resonate with her child Gebbeleth, who in turn seems to covertly support her as much as he can (or so he says). Israfel she seems to have some sympathy for, though she doesn't actively support her. The rest are unworthy of her friendship and she would destroy them if she could - with Andrealphus earning a special place of wrath. After all, Lucifer broke apart the first love of them all, yet Andrealphus stayed with Lucifer after the Revolution. That betrayal is second only to Beleth's, in Blandine's mind.

Among the Outcasts and other Archangels, Blandine has few official opinions. White Star [Encrypted until the White Star write-up, but consider it positive], of course. Gabriel still inspires Blandine - which may be why Blandine didn't contest a Gabrielite gaining the new Word of Hope, in replacement of Blandine's beloved Emmanuel. And Blandine appreciates and understands Mariel -- Blandine never, ever wants to forget what has happened.

Exiles

Allied: None

Associated: Baal, Eli, Lilith, Raphael

Neutral: All others except....

Hostile: Ogiel

Host

Allied: None

Associated: Gebbeleth

Neutral: Israfel

Hostile: All others except...

Enemy: Andrealphus, Beleth, Lucifer

Other

Associated: Gabriel, Mariel, White Star

: Sleep for four hours without visiting the Realm of Fear.

: Successfully help a person overcome a fear permanently. (+2 Essence)

+1 A handwritten lullaby

+2 A sleeping potion or sleeping pills

+3 A first edition of "On The Interpretation of Dreams"

+4 A bed in which an Angel of the Host slept while visiting the Marches.

+5 One person peacefully sleeping in a Car, Train or Plane.

+6 90 people sleeping in a room, none of whom are dreaming of Fear.

+8 Being within Blandine's Receiving Hall in the Dream Fastness.

Before the War, before Lucifer, before the pain... Blandine was the perfect Cherub.

She loved and cherished all she met. She protected all those who needed protection. She followed her duties in the Marches and in the hearts of men without complaint, each day toiling without worry. And in Beleth, she had found her other half, the completion of her soul. Beleth needed her and loved her, and Blandine needed and loved Beleth in return.

Lucifer played upon Beleth's fears, causing the two to separate - causing a rift between the first lovers. Causing the poison of jealousy to spread in Blandine's mind, and causing Beleth to stand with him at the War.

And Lucifer won. But to Beleth's horror, Blandine did not join Lucifer. In a way, she did not join the Exiles either. With the death of Michael, with the voluntary exile of Yves, and most of all, with Beleth herself willing to raise arms against her... Blandine broke.

It is said that the Heart of a Superior is its shining Cathedral. The Cathedral of Dreams - that shining tower that Blandine and Beleth made together - cracked apart and lay in ruins, forever shattered. The unyielding Optimism of Blandine - whose province is eternally Dreams, hope, the belief that the world can be a better place - shattered within her as her lover killed some of her beloved Menunim, including one child the two had made together. She followed Yves into exile, never speaking a word, but each step that carried her away from Heaven broke more of her soul, and when she entered Hades with the others her spiritual isolation was complete. As she stepped through the gates of Hades, Baal could hear her whisper "night has fallen, and the nightmare has begun," very quietly.

These were the last words Blandine has spoken, even to today. Even her Servitors often refer to her as "The Quiet Lady" or "Quiet Mistress."

For a thousand years or more, the Archangel of Dreams was cut off from the Marches and from the dreams of mankind. And while she was gone, the Angels of Fear took her role - spreading through the night and the dreamscapes they found, forever trying to fulfill their appointed roles - the spreading of consequence, using dreams to frighten people into correct behavior. It made humanity safer and more reverent, but after a time the night became fearsome indeed. In the meantime, Blandine sat alone, often crying for loves that are lost, often crying for the love she felt that had no form, and never, ever speaking.

When Lilith freed the Exiles while the Symphony began to unravel, Blandine could feel the new openings, even deep within Hades, like a light breeze stirring her hair from the new open doorways. And while she was still broken within, still she looked up, and out... and realized that the very first Tether Lilith had been able to open had come from a driving hope that the Exiles could still save the Symphony. A hope buried deep within humanity that they could still rise above themselves: a dream of a better, happier world. The first Tether, breaking free the Exiles and returning them to Earth and mankind, was a Tether to Dreams. And Blandine responded to that hope. Some say she created her first new Menunite since the War that same day - a child of great comfort to her. It is known that her Servitors began to slip out into the Marches, and slip into the Dreamscapes of Man, and began fanning the embers of Hope, of Dreams beyond Fear.

But it was different. Once, Blandine's Servitors only encouraged Dreams that lifted the spirit high. Now, they sought to bring any dreams that moved away from fear, giving Blandine a beachhead in the Marches. Some Mercurians of Dreams became adept at dreams of pleasure. Some Elohim of Dreams became experts at encouraging Dreams of Revenge. Some Ofanim became well able to craft dreams of escape - escaping judgement, escaping one's doom, escaping consequences... and the Malakim of Dreams, cold and hard, were experts at building dreams of inner nobility. The dreams, it's said, of megalomaniacs.

And Blandine stepped into the Marches herself, her Celestial Form still human, though her hair was black as night - and had stars twinkling within its depths - and her eyes were mournful. She wore a beautiful gown of mourning, heartstoppingly lovely as she made her way to a point across from the beautiful Tower of Fear. And there, with her hands and the cold stone of Hades, she began to build. All alone, sweat pouring from her, she lifted a darkly beautiful tower - a tower of war. A tower with few windows beyond arrow slits: a tower of gleaming obsidian and darkly veined marble. More beautiful than any save the Tower of Fear itself Blandine's Dream Fastness rose, until it equaled the height of Beleth's Tower.

It's said that every moment that Blandine toiled, alone, to build her Fastness, Beleth watched from her Tower's highest balcony. Watched and waited, hoping against her own fear of rejection that Blandine would turn and see her, that she could wave, could send some signal... some way to reconcile, to meet Blandine halfway...

But Blandine never looked. Not until the Fastness was complete, at least. And if she looked then, she did not respond. She returned inside, and from her Fastness she now pursues her own private War against the Host.

Though she never, ever speaks.

Blandine is in quiet mourning most of the time. While it isn't unknown for her eyes to light up in amusement, that amusement is usually leavened by quiet pain.

But her pain is not active. She bears her wounds in dignity and silently toils to free Mankind of Fear. Her sullen disposition and obsessive compulsion to deny the shrinking Marches to Beleth entirely bespeaks her slipping into the Cherubim-Djinn side of her Choir. It is whispered - very quietly - that Blandine, the shining Angel of Dreams and Scion of Hope, is herself not dreaming or hoping any longer... she is merely existing, and working as hard as she possibly can at all hours.

<Sidebar>

Before the Revolution, the first Menunite - Emmanuel - was also the Angel of Hope. He followed Blandine into Exile, and there died before Hades was ever opened by Lilith. For a long, long time the Word of Hope lay fallow, even as Hope itself has.

Now, the chief Servitor of Gabriel, Soldekai, is the Angel of Hope. It was thought by the Exile's Council that Blandine would object - after all, Hope has traditionally fallen under the bailiwick of Dreams, not Fire. But Blandine neither complained nor offered a new Servitor to compete for the Word. It is as if she could not bring herself to name a replacement for her first Messenger of Hope.

The Menunim, however, are both hurt and angry that one not of their own Choir has been granted the Word that once epitomized them. So few Menunim have Words to begin with, and for a Malakite - even one as honored as Soldekai - to hold the Word of Hope which defines them as a Choir itself is painful. Some whisper that it is a reflection on them - that the Exiles do not trust the Menunim with an important Word after the War. Malakim in general are not kind to Menunim - they are better than humans, but barely considered Angels, some say. And yet, a Malakite has the Word of Hope, not a Menunite.

Some feel the growing disaffection among the Menunim - and their growing affinity with despair as well as hope - is a reflection of this Choir-wide loss of morale.

Blandine could allay their fears with a word, of course. But Blandine as always does not speak, and her most fragile children grow colder with every passing day.

</Sidebar>

Blandine is still, however, a Cherub, and she treats her Servitors like a mother treats her children. She is firm, but there is always a feeling of care in her actions. However, as she doesn't ever speak, but instead conveys her will through metaphors and woven dreams, her instructions are often subject to interpretation rather than being specific. This can be frustrating to her Servitors, though she only rarely gets angry at some misinterpretation of her wishes.

No one knows why Blandine never speaks. At first, it was assumed that she was simply trying to recover, as all the Exiles were. After thousands upon thousands of years, however, it's not enough to say she's in mourning. Some have advanced she has some kind of Discord, born of her warring against the lover she is still attuned to. Others say that she was badly hurt in the War, and never recovered. Still others say she is trying to perpetually remind Beleth of what she once was. And some few of her most optimistic Servitors say that she can't speak, because she wishes for so much today, and to speak a wish aloud means it won't come true.

Be that as it may, Blandine is an implacable enemy of the Host. Their rebellion offends her and pains her, and their continued support of Lucifer and Beleth means she can't ever possibly reconcile with them.

<Sidebar>

Blandine is in many ways more alone than any other angel. She once had the greatest of all loves, but had that love betray her out of insecurity, fear, and belief in the traitor to God himself. That hurt, badly, and that pain is still within Blandine.

It expresses itself in sometimes mercurial moods, as Blandine suddenly with throw herself into some new task or relationship or connection. Every so often, for example, Blandine will slip into a Dreamscape she declares sacrosanct - no other Servitor of Dreams may enter it, and may whatever God remains take pity on the Servitor of Fear who tries.

For a period of time - decades, sometimes, or mere minutes - Blandine will live within the dreams of a mortal. As his lover, his helpmeet, his partner... always mute, but the dreamer expects nothing else. Some say Blandine has killed some of her dream lovers, out of passion or jealousy - especially if they find a lover in the real world. Others say she stays only so long as they have no Corporeal love, and flits away if they do. Still others say she draws mortal lovers into her concubine's dreamscape... it's impossible to tell.

During these times, Blandine is harder to contact than normal - but she seems happier than normal too. When they end, there is always that much more wistfulness to the Quiet Mistress, as she stares into the sky, the stars in her hair glistening.

</Sidebar>

Blandine's Servitors are passionately committed to Blandine's cause, which could be described as 'encouraging dreams' but is more accurately described as 'denying humanity to Fear.' Blandine wants to strip away Beleth's power base until she can eliminate her erstwhile lover from the Marches entirely. Once the entire Vale is Dreams, she can work on repairing the damage, but for now it's war, and her former lover's insecurities mean Blandine's winning it.

The primary mission is to lead dreamers away from Fear. This means that Blandine's Servitors in the Marches are not just protecting Dreamscapes, but actively orienting them towards Blandine's side of the Marches by any means necessary. Several Servitors, in the name of moving away from Fear, will indulge or inflame a dreamer's other vices, for example.

<Sidebar>

This is the name for one of the more infamous 'guildhalls' within Blandine's control. Largely used by Mercurians and Lilim to store their Hearts and as a home, it is the unofficial headquarters for the so-called 'Red Light Dreams.' Specializing in erotic and lustful dreams, these Angels seek to drive away fear through raw sensuality. Their leader is Marou, a Mercurian Master of the Night who once served Andrealphus but was disheartened with Love when Andrealphus let Blandine walk away and did not follow.

Marou and the rest of the Red Light Dreams believe they're serving the cause better than most. They're appealing to the most human of instincts, after all, and encouraging an active and powerful fantasy life in lieu of being afraid of such things. "It's always good to enjoy your work," as their motto says. "So long as no one gets scared."

Servitors of Purity are outraged at the Brothel and other places like it, but Blandine's Servitors counter that anything that reduces the power of Holy Fear weakens the religion that Lucifer controls - and the power of an enemy. Baal is supportive - a legitimate tactic is a legitimate tactic, after all.

</sidebar>

Most of Blandine's Servitors work in the Ethereal Realm almost exclusively. With the ongoing reduction of the Marches, this often puts them in Beleth's territory, as well as putting them alongside the forces of Uriel and Ogiel - who in the Blandinites' opinion take entirely too corporeal a view of Ethereal works. They have some highly positive contact with the Ethereals of the Far Marches (in part because they work against the religions that take Essence away from the Ethereals, and in part because Blandine's Servitors are often responsible for new Dream Fragments being created.)

So long as they continue to drive away Fear and promote Dreams (of any stripe), Blandine tends to give her Servitors a free rein. This has led to some problems in the past. One or two of her less savory Servitors have taken to 'cultivating' Dreamscapes, using their Dream Shaping attunement to create fiefdoms inside the imaginations of humanity. (One Servitor actually managed to create an Ethereal mate this way, then went renegade with her and the pair now seek to funnel essence to her. The Malakim of Dreams have declared a hunt against them.) It's hard to remember the original, overriding goal of Dreams - to inspire humanity to reach beyond their grasp, and become something greater than they are - when confronted by Blandine's distance, the need to defeat Fear by any means necessary, and overwhelming temptation to enjoy one's self in the dreams of others... or just do the minimum to keep them away from Beleth. Some maintain nobility against the night. Others...

Well, their charges are rarely afraid, at least...

One can imagine the questioner, can't one? Drifting off to sleep one night - a Soldier or Sorcerer, knowing of the battle between Heaven and Hades. Knowing the legend of the most beautiful Angel of them all, rendered sad and silent by the cruelest of betrayals, clinging to... something, to survive and exist.

One can imagine that Soldier finding himself in dreams, and there sees the Quiet Mistress. With fumbling words, he asks... and there the dream shows him things he would never have expected...

Exiles

Baal: At the sound of Baal's name, Blandine turns her face aside, and draws a veil off of a table. Though it had laid flat before, one can see a bloody dagger on it now. The blood has spilled onto the grip, and when she lifts it, it slips, cutting her slightly. She has to grip it so tightly, to use it with so much blood on the handle, or else it becomes useless - or worse, a danger to her. She looks at her questioner, gripping the dagger, and lifts it up over her head. Reaching it for Heaven... and yet blood drips down, spattering her face and forcing her to look away...

David: Blandine's smile grows perhaps sadder, and she looks into a mirror. There can David be seen, immobile in his misery, and as you watch so you see Blandine immobile, her face perhaps white marble instead of flesh, the stars in her hair flecks of mica...

Dominique: Blandine and you walk down an endless hallway of windows. Through one window can a brutal rape be seen, and Blandine whips her scepter of six diamonds at it, shattering the glass and revealing black behind it, like a mirror, the scene ruined. But one diamond has a crack. You continue and see a lynching through another, and she strikes again, with another cracking. A poisoning, and she strikes it. The glass on the floor cuts both their feet, which seem to be bare. A corrupt politician. She smashes. A Prosecuting Attorney who throws the case for money. She smashes. Over and over again she breaks the windows and leaves them with only blackness, and the hallway grows darker and darker until finally the diamonds are like powder, the scepter is only good to be a club, and the last window - watching the death of an old man - falls to glass, leaving them in the darkness, with glass all around them and no shoes on their feet.

Eli: Blandine's mouth shifts into a smile, and she holds out a lipstick tube to you. Without knowing how or why, you lean forward and begin tracing it on her face - making clown patterns in bright, garish colors. Cheerful colors, and yet they're colorful tears. Bright lips that frown. And her naturally beautiful face becomes a mockery of greasepaint. She leans forward and kisses you, and the paint feels like the slime of a swamp, living and diseased.

Lilith: Blandine turns - a model's turn, her hair straighter, if still star-filled, her face amused, with sunglasses over her eyes. She wears fur coats, a black mini-dress, stockings - all the trappings. But her coat is held close with a padlock. She draws out a key chain, and pulls a bright key off, with a gem set within. Slipping it in the lock, she turns and the lock falls away, taking the key with it so she has one less. She slips off the coat, and one can see her necklace is locked on, too. Her dress's zipper is locked on. Her shoes have locks on them. Her sunglasses are locked. One by one she unlocks them, discarding them, the dress, leaving her in lingerie. The glasses, leaving her eyes to see, her shoes, leaving her feet to slide... her movements are sensual, but also show nervousness... until finally, she is bare, but for two locks. One is set inside her, over her heart. One is on a chastity belt that cuts her skin, it is so tight. And she holds up the key-chain, and only one remaining key gleams on it, her eyes framing it as the questioner watches.

Novalis: Blandine lifts a flower - a white rose. She grips it, hard, and the thorns bite into her hand. She smells it and smiles slightly, and offers the questioner to smell. It is sweet, and rich, and vibrant, and smells of love and springtime... as the petals stain red from the blood, the thorns drinking as Blandine clenches, spinning... and as each petal turns blood red in its entirety, she pulls the petal free, letting it trail to the floor. She does not speak, and yet you know the game... she loves me... she loves me not... she loves me... she loves me not... but how many petals remain, and how much more blood can be given to the rose before then, before it's too late...

Ogiel: As you and Blandine walk the corridors... of the Dream Fastness? Of your dreamscape? Of some other place? Who can tell... you can hear a rumbling. It does not seem to disturb Blandine, but she steps ahead of you slightly. You try to move to her side again, but she shakes her head, turning towards you... and a huge boulder tears past, rolling over her and crushing her to the floor. You can't move to help her as it rolls out of sight. Slowly, she pushes up on broken legs and arms, wavering and shivering, and dusting herself off despite the blood and broken skin. She holds herself erect again, and continues on, forcing herself not to acknowledge her limp. In the distance, the rumbling begins to pick up again...

Raphael: You walk through a library, and wonder for a moment if this was the Library, or a dream of it... Blandine lifts a book, leather bound, and opens it. The pages are blank, but she seems to read it, nodding slightly. She looks at you, and offers you the book. You take it, and the pages are still blank. You mention this, voice shaking in the silence, and her smile grows coyer.

Uriel: Blandine pauses, opening a door to an armory. She looks at the cold ironmongery within - all the weapons you could ever dream of. She steps forward, her gown slipping off her shoulders, and picks up a knife. She makes a small cut on her arm, and silver gleams beneath. She tears at it, her skin peeling away - leaving a silver suit of gleaming armor, black cloak behind like wings, her face displaced with a silver helm. She strides forward, through the weapons, and reaches a furnace. A crucible, perhaps. And she steps within, the silver shining, bringing hope... and the fires surround her and smelt at her, and when she steps out she is larger still, but the silver is gone, leaving black, horrible armor that still smolders. She reaches out and gently takes your hand, but her hand burns no matter how gently she touches, and you have to pull away, crying out.

Host

Andrealphus: Blandine walks into a courtyard where the leaves are bright and the blossoms have bloomed, the heady air of spring all around. And she smiles, brightly and sunnily and with more cheer than you have ever seen. And a man wearing black satin, head to toe, walks to her and touches her face with a rose. And Blandine closes her eyes and moves her head back, letting the black satin man touch her neck with the rose, and she rests her hands on a black, wrought iron fence. And there the man closes manacles onto her hands, her eyes still closed, her smile not yet wavering, and so locked he steps back, and draws out a black whip, metal studs along its length. And he whips out, tearing through her gown into her flesh and rending her, and she pitches forward, body twisting in agony even as she tries to force the smile to remain on her face, tries to pretend this is what she likes, pretend this isn't happening as he flogs more and more, skin and clothing falling off her until she's naked and beaten, and her eyes open and she sees angels on the other side of the fence, staring at her, some pointing, some laughing as the black satin man wraps a coil of the whip around her neck and begins to tighten the loop....

Beleth: When the name of the Archangel of Fear is mentioned, all seems to stop. All. The wind stops whistling. The clock stops ticking. The clouds stop moving in the sky. And Blandine looks at you. Looks. With eyes that seem to burn. Looks at you with a stare that you can't look away from. Looks. Her eyes like needles that pierce your skin. You try to look away, to mumble an apology, but she won't stop looking, and you can't do anything while she looks at you. You begin to hope she will kill you - destroy you. Do anything that meant those eyes wouldn't look at you any more. And then she looks away, and you wish she would turn back, but now she's walking on.

Beth: Blandine rolls her eyes.

Demogorgon: Blandine half smiles, amused, when Demogorgon's name is raised. She walks again, this time back inside, down a spiral staircase that leads to a room with a printing press within it. It is an old style press, with movable type set into it, and she pushes a button, causing a page to be printed. Reading it, one can see poetry, fiction - pure beauty encoded within the text. Smiling a bit more, she dumps out the slugs, all over the floor, and scoops them up, locking them back into the rack wherever they fall. She slaps down the press, and a page of gibberish, some letters turned upside down, no words or meaning at all slides out. She lifts the two printed pages, and arches an eyebrow.

Gebbeleth: With the mention of her son, the smile leaves Blandine's face, but she does not seem angry. Instead, she leads you outside, and moves towards a pathway. It is beginning to grow dark, you see, as you walk through forest, valley, hill and ravine. The darkness seems frightening as you climb a larger hillock, picking your way over stones and rough terrain. You can see some of the stones are perhaps the ruins of a castle. Perhaps. You struggle to keep up as she reaches the top, and slips a candle out from her sleeve, affixing it to the rock. Sundown is well underway as she lights the taper, letting the flame flicker for a moment, then grow strong. She turns, and is halfway down the mountain before you can follow. You struggle to keep up, afraid of being lost as the darkness surrounds and swallows you both, until finally you have only the stars in Blandine's hair to follow. Hours and hours later you reach the building again, and she takes you up a stone stairwell, winding up and up, until you reach the top of this turret. Stepping out onto a balcony, she gestures. And all those miles away, you can still see the tiny glimmer of candlelight in the darkness, at the top of the hill.

Iblis: Blandine snickers silently, and leads you back to the armory where she had walked through fire at Uriel's name. She walks to the crucible, which is now cold, and pulls free the waste-pot. Upending it, you can see scattered twists of silver striking the ground. They glisten beautifully on the floor, but are either soft or brittle to the touch, too fragile to be used.

Israfel: Blandine plays a violin - the music of which dreams are made, perhaps heard in Mozart's dreams as he imagined that which he could never truly reproduce. There are echoes here of the Queen of the Night, certainly, and perhaps that makes sense. And yet... you begin to hear a sourness... the strings begin pulling too much at their pegs, the instrument beginning to go out of tune. But Blandine doesn't stop her playing. She plays harder, and faster, and louder, trying to replace with volume and enthusiasm what is lost in quality. The music is still excellent, but the longer it goes, the more out of tune it becomes, until no player's skill could possibly make the music palatable.

Jean: There is a spark of light that trails from the sky... not a thunderbolt, though. It's more like a snowflake that burns with lightning, crackling like a will o' the wisp. Blandine watches it drift down, and turns to look at you. Her eyes are mournful as she turns back, watching the thunderflake drift down, down into a small reflecting pool, where it flares and disappears....

Kobal: Blandine sighs, and closes her eyes, and perhaps there is a tear. She moves her arm, trailing the diaphanous fabric of her sleeve over your face. It tickles, and feels good, and seems to become a curtain, which is opened. And you can see a cliff. With a look, you know that to fall is to die. And there is a very carefully placed banana peel not three feet from the edge, right on the only path leading to the cliff.

Laurence: The word 'Laurence' leaves your lips, and Blandine jerks, dropping to her knees forward. You start, moving to help her, and she takes your hand gratefully. Buried in her back, down low, where the kidneys lie, is a perfect replica of a longsword, perhaps the size of a letter opener. The blood pours as Blandine manages to stand, reaching for it, but she can't seem to find it to pull it out. She staggers forward, trying to reach her desk, and you help her walk though it never occurs to you to pull the blade out of her. She falls forward, shivering, and her eyes close.

Lucifer: The name of the Lightbringer echoes all around you and Blandine both, and you look around. You are both within a small chapel, with an open skylight, and the sun is streaming inside. Blandine slips off her spectacles, though you hadn't noticed her having spectacles before, and cleans them with her gown's sleeve, walking forward. You can see the sunlight is right on the altar, and you can see an ant crawling. Blandine looks at you, and lifts her glasses into the light. You can see bubbles of brighter, focused light on the altar, and she angles the glasses, sharpening the focus on the light, until searing light consumes the ant, who struggles in the flames and dies... and in his death, you see the altar itself smolder, and the wood stain begin to smell of oil and creosote. As the altar begins to burn, Blandine drops the glasses and steps on them, then walks towards the doorway, heedless of the fire that's been started.

Marc: Blandine frowns a touch, and slips into a study with you. In front of you there is a heart, made from a lace doily, with a silhouette of a handsome man in profile upon it. Blandine looks sadly at it, then holds out her hand. You find yourself tearing a long strip from that heart, and handing it to you. She then slips out a silver dollar, handing it back. It is heavy - a real silver coin, and you put it down. You tear another strip, and get another coin. And so on, the two of you trading silver for long strips of heart, the silhouette becoming harder to recognize as parts are taken away, until finally she has all the ripped up pieces of lace and construction paper, now not a heart at all, and in front of you are thirty pieces of glistening silver.

Zadkiel: Blandine walks to the wall and lifts a large kite shield of gleaming silver from it. The edges of the shield are razor sharp and look cruel, as does the point on the bottom. She holds it before her and walks towards you, her eyes just peeking over the top. But while it protects her, it also encumbers her, and keeps her from looking down to her feet. You try to call out as she approaches a fold in the carpet, but too late - she trips, and falls forward. The shield's point is driven into the floor and holds fast, her body falling over

it, the top edge of the shield meeting her soft neck. Her body remains behind the shield as her head strikes the carpet in front of it, rolling so slowly, so slowly, until it stops at your feet, her eyes looking up, tears rolling from them.

Outcasts and Others

Gabriel: Blandine's hands clench the logs, loading them into the fireplace, the bitter cold wind flowing through the building's thousand cracks. She shivers, as do you, her gown so thin - like a nightdress - and not enough to warm her. It's so dark, but she has a candle, a candle to see to prepare the wood and open the flue, and she touches the candle to the kindling, which smolders. It smolders but isn't catching, and Blandine drops herself closer and breaths in deeply and blows, the kindling sparking and catching, and blows, fanning the new embers into flame, and blows, growing dizzy with the exertion but not stopping feeding the fire until it grows, and fills the room with heat and with light, perhaps burning Blandine slightly as she lies, exhausted, in front of it, but she does not complain, her eyes filling with tears and a desperately relieved smile on her face....

Mariel: You step through a door, losing sight of Blandine, and find yourself in a hall of mirrors, surrounded on all sides. Reflections upon reflections are everywhere, and you're astounded to see them, glistening on one side and then the next. And then you see a reflection of Blandine, and another and another, and you chase after them, but always find mirrors. More mirrors. Each more real looking than the last... and then your hands touch warmth, and she slips her arms around you, and crying you hold her. You have found her. And then you wake up.