| Logs |
2010 May 16
| When The Bough Breaks |
| Realms |
Retired
| Reality Fault |
General Info
 |
| Realms: Bough Logs |
Sixth Movement, Second Verse
To any outside observer -- say, from a few hundred feet up in the air, or perhaps from one of the lower tiers of Mount Zion, it looks at if the Mirrorward-most corner of Babylon's Silks Quarter is alive with light and life. It's hard to tell where the light comes from; but the music is clearly from the hundreds of drummers who have converged on this spot. And the dancers seem to be from all over Babylon. In raiments that harken to Babylon and Rome and Constantinople and Paris and Hollywood and Harajuku, all manner of people have come, attracted by the drum-dances that rose from some of the first mortal civilizations. And even two angels have been caught and entranced, agents of the Architect who had been sent to break seven seals which sit in the labyrinth beneath the Basilica of St. George. Angels whom the four intrepid once-gods, now-mortals have managed to stymie.
The wild, raucous, tribal beat thuds into the stone streets, echoing off the buildings of granite and marble and steel and glass. Banners of bright crimson, the colors of blood and the dawn, have appeared as if out of nowhere, draped from those buildings as if to clothe the revelers in scarlet silks. The primal dance-drums have drawn the attention of hundreds of the Quarter's inhabitants, for the moment overshadowing the perpetual carnivale that rings the heart of the quarter.
Mikal laughs delightedly, a part of her keenly aware of how joy -- proper joy in its most sensual nature -- is awakening the ancient city. She takes a few unwitting skipping/dancing steps as she weaves smoothly through the entranced and dancing crowd, drawing her packbrothers behind her as they head towards the Basilica.
Norris feels the disconnect between himself and his past-selves, at the moment. The young smith was never very comfortable with large gatherings and joyful merrymaking, and tended to be a wallflower. The elder Hephaestus was also not much of a carouser for similar reasons, but also because he tended to be very single-minded. But awake in him are the memories of many other people he was: an italian noble, a gypsy fiddler, a hippie craftswoman, and many others, to whom the colors, the dancing, the excitement appeals, and makes him want to abandon duty, and join the excitement. Sadly, they are smaller voices in him, and he steadfastly leads Jareth with Mikal from the throng.
The drumming is thunderous, and only the most alert amongst the revelers might notice that there is a sort of counter-beat starting. It isn't nearly as noticable, and it's somewhat hard to dance to, but most of the dancers ignore it. The unsettled rumbling of thunder from the lower peaks of Mount Zion do, after all, have the tone of a grumpy neighbor who is grumbling about loud music being played by the downstairs tenants. The group notices it, mostly because they are actively trying to move away from the tribal dance party that they instigated and which has now taken on a life of its own.
Mikal frowns thoughtfully over her shoulder, then speeds up a bit. While this is slowing the angels down, they will eventually snap out of it -- and likely whomever does the breaking up of the party will figure out the why of the party too. Still, the city has never been one to tamely submit to outside forces, either in history or in dream; Mikal trusts it to keep things in joyous turmoil for a while still at least. That interval is the time the little group should use to figure out what exactly is hidden behind those seven seals -- could it be Yeshua, perhaps? Something else? Mikal doesn't know, but she's going to find out -- and if it can help them against the Architect's forces, she's going to do her best to either use it so, or (if it is sapient) persuade it to do so!
Norris, already having his blood pumping to the beat, looks with some irritation at the noises from above. "Hush you, old curmudgeon! At least some of yours know the Dance of Life! A whole city of people are happier than worship of you could ever make them!" he yells at the sky, but hardly heard over the tumult.
Mikal laughs delightedly over her shoulder at Norris!
The angel that Jareth kisses looks like you could knock him over with a feather -- every tell about him says that he would gladly lay down his sceptreship to be with Jareth. "Who... who are you?" he manages to shout out over the gloriously cacophonous drumming and the sounds of the thronging, dancing crowd.
Jareth smiles beatifically at the angel, "I am joy! And life! You know me! You remember me! In the farthest whispers of your mind, it is my voice calling you to dance and to sing!" He touches the angel's face, "You could have that again. I can give it to you." He may be overstating things a bit, but right now, the soul of the goddess has him and he wants to welcome this frightened one home.
The angel looks dumbfounded, barely able to comprehend the enormity of what Jareth is saying except as it slowly sinks into him. If anything this leaves him even more incapable of coherent thought. "You... here? But... but how...?"
Jareth laughs and touches the angel's forehead with his fingertips, "Because even El Amon Re knows that without diversity, we die. Because, even in the holy books as he has corrupted them, he created man and woman in his image. Man and woman, dear one. You know this in the very core of yourself."
The angel is trembling now, from the heady, colliding mix of emotions of arousal and ecstatic revelation -- and who's to say the two aren't the same in an angel? or any other creature? Hands shaking, he reaches up to take Jareth's hand. "I... once, yes, I did, I did know it...!"
The laughter from Jareth is ringing and joyous as the angel reaches for him. Some tiny bit of him is whispering that he should be very careful, but compassion has often outweighed both the goddess' and the bard's good sense. "Then you can know it again! Remember how it felt! We were not so cruel as to set you up for failure, dear one. Who are you, that I can find you again when I need you? Or when you need me?"
The ange;;s eyes widen, and he gets that shy/excited/terrified look that some young mortals get when approaching someone of the appropriate gender for the first time... or the forty-seventh time. "Na... N-nathaniel...," he stammers out.
Something lights up Jareth's eyes and he says, "Would you come with us, Nathaniel? Do you want to remember what it was like before? You know things are not as they should be. If you didn't, you couldn't hear us the way you do."
Nathaniel's eyes widen even more, and he looks just about to say, far too quickly, 'yes'... when there is a peal of thunder overhead, noticable even through the thunder of the drumming. His head snaps upward, as if in terror at being found with his hand in the cookie jar. "I... I shouldn't! But... but I want...."
Jareth lays his fingers over Nathaniel's lips and whispers, "Shh. You needn't fear, Nathaniel. You want things to be right again. You want there to be joy again."
The angel -- perhaps none of them needed to have much more emotional maturity than an older teenager -- nods shakily at Jareth's question; the touch of the fingertips to his lips does seem to calm him, or at least put him into even more of a virtual trance state.
Jareth whispers, "Come with us, Nathaniel. Help us make things joyous again." He leans in close enough to kiss the angel again, but doesn't, just letting his breath brush over Nathaniel's skin. And then he turns, looking for his pack, his mate and his companion.
Mikal approaches swiftly with Norris in tow, swaying reflexively through the crowd like a dancer. Her storm-gray eyes are bright and fierce as she spots who stands with Jareth, and for a moment her gaze flashes like lightning -- then she notices the tranced expression of the angel and she relaxes slightly.
Mikal stands next to Jareth, her eyes narrowed as she stares up at the taller angel. She is a tiny woman, but Inanna shimmers within her like electricity, lifting her hair into a shining corona around her bright face. Her voice is low and rolling, carrying easily over the sound of the crowd to the angel, "He is yours, my sister?"
Jareth smiles, eyes going back to Nathaniel, "If he wishes to be."
Implicit in the phrase is freedom. Lilith would not force the angel to come with her. She would simply invite and welcome.
Mikal nods once, her gaze not leaving the angel as she addresses it -- not unkindly, "Speak then: who do you follow?"
Norris has nothing to say: he trusts in Jareth to make good decisions, and the darkness in his heart in regards to El Amon's minions has lessened since the battle alongside the rakshasa, and the recovery of the artifacts left behind by the goddesses. And he has no reason to hate or mistrust this one angel. Janiel himself was a good soul.
The angel looks between the two -- to his eyes, they are clearly goddesses, and Norris a god. If the angel could speak his mind right now it would probably be, 'I'm so confused.' But his mind is awash and aflame, and all he can do is blurt out, "You! I follow you!"
Another titanic peal of thunder from on high, and somewhere over the ululating, dancing throng they can hear a plaintive voice calling out, "Nathaniel! Nathaniel, where are you?!"
Nathaniel's eyes widen. "Joachiel," he breathes. "We were... oh goddess!" He breaks down, at last collapsing under the emotional weight, grasping Jareth's about the knees. "Forgive us! F-forgive us, we... he wants to release the Horsemen! We were but his mesengers, without voition of our own, please, forgive us, forgive us!"
Norris is frozen by the angel's statement. He look at Mikal, his worst fear confirmed. "He is mad." he whispers.
Mikal shakes her head in fierce negation, "No, my brother -- he is only now realizing the extent of his forced service." There is pity in her voice, but a moment later she speaks gently to the angel, "You must choose now, Nathaniel: do you return to your previous master? Or will you come with us, and cleave to joy and love and balance between woman and man?"
Jareth lays his hands on Nathaniel's head, voice gentle, "There is nothing to forgive if you do not take this horrible step. Follow us. Help us in the healing, sweet gift. You and your brother can come." He smiles at Mikal, "He has chosen alredy, my heart. He comes with us."
Norris shakes his head. He did not mean the angel. He meant Uriel, or El-Amon, or whoever would sanction such an act.
Mikal nods to Jareth, her flashing gaze fierce again as she scans for the other angel. Her voice is calm, however, as she says, "Nathaniel, do you believe Joachiel would choose to follow the Eastern Star also?" Without thinking about it she uses Lilith's most ancient name -- the one by which Inanna knew her.
Norris looks at the sky with concern...he is now antsy. Even if Inanna and Lilith manage to subvert El-Amon's angels, the stakes being what they are, he wants to find the seals.
Still trembling, still weeping from the overload of emotions, Nathaniel replies, "I.. I don't know. I do not know him... that well...."
Mikal nods silently at that, turning to Norris and Jareth, "Bring him, and hurry, please. We must find the mujahedeen."
Jareth is stroking Nathaniel's hair gently, comforting him. "Come with us, Nathaniel. If Joachiel comes upon us, we will offer him the same choice. For now, we must go."
Nathaniel nods, shakily, as he stands, fumbling a little and moving to keep up with the group."
Mikal enjoys the beauty of the rejoicing city around her, but a small part of her is still musing as she weaves and skips and dances through the crowd, leading her companions on. As far as she knows, the Four Horsemen were sheer christian apocalyptic fervor and nothing more. They have no basis in earlier religions; they are part of no natural cycle. The touch of Inanna within Mikal is outraged -- how dare El-Amon-Re create such an unnatural thing! It is no better than his idea of perfection: a stagnant garden with all its trapped creatures within frozen into an endless, childish dependency.
Jareth takes Nathaniel's hand, wanting to make sure the smitten, ecstatic and terrified angel is reassured.
Mikal's eyes narrow and she frowns with determination -- if they can possibly heal or turn the nature of the poor horsemen, then Inanna will certainly do her best to do so! A darker part of her growls, and the warrior within her stands ready, should the horsemen prove obdurate -- to do whatever is necessary to save the city.
Norris, himself, is wondering of the power of the Horsemen...surely they could not be more powerful than the gods themselves. Of course, they are not gods as they were. If it can be at all avoided, they must not get into a battle with these monsters of desctruction.
Mikal glances back and forth sharply as the little group nearly scampers across the bridge back to the other side of the river. She's searching for both her half-brother and the mujahedeen, with the burro and tools they promised.
The group makes their way past the edges of the dance party, finally free from it. That entire corner of the Silks Quarter is one solid, dancing crowd. Moments after they get out of the dancing crowd, there is a titanic clap of thunder, a flash of lightning, and rain begins to come down on Babylon. It seems to do little for the dancers, though, since silk and muslin and cotton tend to become... much, much more interesting when wet.
The group -- plus one angel -- are making their way to Emily's public house, Mirrorward of the large ampitheater. It is easy to find, and looks relatively plain and unassuming; a burro is in a side alley, being watched by Alfonso. He stands as the group approaches, looking a little awestruck. "THey are speaking of the dances that made the Architect weep tears of anger," he says, gesturing upward to the rain. "Was that your doing?" He looks curiously at Nathaniel. "Who is your new friend?"
Jareth's eyes are sparkling, "I know this city and her people. They have always loved to dance." He still has Nathaniel's hand, "This is Nathaniel."
Norris makes a snort of irritation at the comment on 'tears of irritation' and takes a moment apart from the others, to strip off wet clothes, and change into his padding and armor.
Mikal quickly hugs Raphael, then takes the burro's lead, gently stroking its nose as she speaks swift and sure, "Nathaniel is going with you, Alfonso. Tell Saladin Nathaniel needs to be taken to Armaros as quickly as possible -- he will know how to help and care for Nathaniel."
Mikal smiles at Jareth as she adds, "'Know'? More than that, little sister -- the city knows and remembers you, and loves you still."
Jareth turns to Nathaniel and says, "Nathaneil, if I need to call you, whisper to me the name I would use." His eyes twinkle at Mikal's assurance.
Nathaniel looks a little hurt at how quickly he is being shuffled off, but at Jareth's question, he takes in a breath, biting his lip, and glancing around. Then, quietly, as if whispering to who one hopes to be anew lover, he gives Jareth his True Name. Poor boy is smitten six ways to Sunday and boy, does he know it.
Jareth smiles at Nathaniel and whispers back, "I will see you again, my gift. You will not be forgotten or abandoned. Do you believe me?" Jareth's body language is inviting and sensual. He hasn't made any promises with his words, but he promises much with the way his eyes lay on the angel.
Nathaniel takes in a breath again, then nods quickly, beaming shyly to jareth. "I.. I believe you!" he says.
Norris returns to the others, garbed in shining steel, his eyes set, and his bearing proud as he fastens the strap on his helm. "I'm ready." he comments, before watching Jareth and the angel with amusement.
Nathaniel blinks, stepping to stand beside Alfonso. "You're... you're going into the labyrinth?" he asks, dunbfounded.
Norris looks at Nathaniel coolly. "We are. We cannot stand by while the Architect decides to give this world over to fire and sword and plague."
Jareth says, "We're trying to fix things, Nathaniel. And that is one of the steps. Will Joachiel try to break the seals without you?"
Nathaniel shakes his head. "I don't know, I don't... I don't know! I don't think he will, he'll probably try to head back up the mountain and tell them he... he lost... lost me...."
Jareth reaches for Nathaniel's hands, "He didn't lose you. You found us. And yourself."
Nathaniel blushes -- rather adorably, actually -- when Jareth takes his hands.
Mikal smiles in warm, silent approval at Norris's garb.
Mikal thinks a moment, then smiles again -- they're heading into the Underworld. She should dress suitably also. For now, though, she gently touches Jareth's arm, "We must go, Eastern Star. Nathaniel is safer here, on the surface." To the angel she says, "Be resolute and of good faith, Nathaniel, and trust Armaros. We will return."
Norris feels Mikal's eyes, turns to look at her, and his face mirrors Nathaniel's a little...perhaps remembering her words when he was caught up in the energy of the crowd, and Jareth's dance. "Just being pragmatic." he rumbles, the leather of his gauntlets creaking, freshly oiled.
Mikal grins and winks at Norris, then turns to head towards the Basilica, leading the burro quickly along after her. She murmurs silently, [Raph, would you tailgate us please?]
Jareth brushes a last kiss over Nathaniel's cheek.
Nathaniel nods, shakily, trying to smile bravely, looking like he could dance on water with Jareth's almost-kiss.
Raphael nods mentally to Mikal, already looking about and behind them alertly. [Any chance we might see Joachiel following?]
Mikal murmurs to Raphael, [Not if he's searching primarily for Nathaniel. Frankly, I'm surprised he recovered as fast as he did -- he was the one I did not have to urge to love again. But if he's determined to perform the mission more than to find his companion, then yes, we might see him.]
Norris takes the initiative to take the lead: if Raph is following, and they aren't bothering trying to be sneaky, then he's the best person to be the vanguard.
The group make their way across the bridge over the Euphrates. The rain is not heavy but neither is is just a drizzle. From the sound of it, it seems like the dance party has died down only a little; there is still a glow cast into the rain-filled sky over that portion of the Silks Quarter, light which reflects off of the scores of streamers of incense and brazier-smoke rising from the Temples Quarter.
Mikal patters along with the little burro behind Norris, singing softly as she goes. The language is very ancient; she's singing the beginning of the praise poem titled Inanna's Descent into the Underworld. After a moment of concentration she tries reaching into one voluminous sleeve for something.
Jareth is still feeling positively ecstatic and he takes Mikal by the hand, trying to whirl her into a dip and a kiss. "You were magnificent." His eyes flick up toward Norris with some impishness.
Norris clanks along in the rain, eyes moving left and right as he is tensed and ready for action...perhaps he is over-heightened, but with the anger of the Architect literally raining down on them, he keep his vigilance, seeming like all but a stalwart knight.
Mikal blinks startledly, then laughs and returns the kiss with passion and grace! When Jareth straightens with her, she's dressed very differently!
The streets of the Scholars Quarter are almost empty at this hour, especially in the northern part of the city. There are a few churches and temples here, but they are all overshadowed by the cross-shaped edifice, the fortress that is the Basilica of St. George, the slayer of dragons. The basilica, however, is virtually empty; most of the worship of El Amon Re in Babylon takes place more MIrrorward, in a section of the Scholars' Quarter closer to the Temples Quarter's royal palace and the airship docks. There are only a few fitfully-flickering oil lamps lit outside its tall, heavy, wooden doors.
Norris looks at his companions. "Should I knock, or should we just go on in?" he queries, brushing the rain from his helm.
It's just as well there are few people out in the street, as Mikal is strikingly and recognizeably dressed. Kohl attractively emphasizes her eyes, and there is a crown of curling horns on her head. She wears the full length, quilted dress, with one bared shoulder, of a priestess or goddess, and there is a breast-enhancing pectoral over her chest. Strings of carnelian and lapis beads lay about her throat and gold sparkles on her fingers and wrists. She raises the lapis lazuli rod and line of rulership, and commands, "Door, open!"
Norris blinks as he realizes how dramatically Mikal has changed, and looks back at the door, very curious to see if it will obey her command!
Jareth grins at Norris and steps up to take the big man's hands in his own, going up on his knees to kiss the smith as well, but not as fully as he would like, since they are about to enter the Basilica.
Norris is still surprised by Jareth's act, and is disspointed when it ends seconds later, his eyes full, distracted even from Inanna's elegant order. "You were glorious in the quarter." he whispers, squeezing Jareth's hands. "...and very distracting."
Absolutely nothing happens for several moments. Then, shortly, the door starts to crea-a-ak open; it appears to be exceedingly heavy and slow to open as one of the doors starts to swing inward a bit. After a moment, an old, virtually wizened priest carrying a lantern pokes his head out. "Who's knock-knock-knockin' on Heaven's door?" he asks in a cracking voice.
Norris turns to gaze on the venerable priest. "Forgive the late intrusion, elder. We have urgent business in the labyrinth below." he says, respectful of the man, if not of his god.
Mikal steps forward, her eyes bright and fierce, "Open up, doorman, open up! Open up, Neti, open up! I am with my beloveds and I want to come in."
Jareth grins at Norris and starts to say something to him when the door opens. He releases Norris' hands and takes a step back.
The priest blinks startledly, taking half a step back at Mikal's approach. "What! Your spirit's at war, girl! Back ye to the Temples' Quarter, this house of stone and light is not the place for you." He says is considerately, worriedly as opposed to derisively, as if he is concerned at Mikal's appearance there. His eyes flick to the other mortals with her. "But... soft me now. Is she well? Does she need sanctuary?"
Norris shakes his head, reluctantly having to turn his full attention to the priest instead of Jareth. "This is not a matter of your holy tenants, elder. There is strife and war abroad in the land, and we must repair to the depths of your temple. If you please. We would not cause further disruption, but we are in need."
Mikal simply paces forward, her head held high in majesty and her assurance and power flaring around her. "No, you are wrong, gatekeeper. This holy house is but a step on my path to the Underworld."
Raphael hastily grabs the donkey's leadrope and trots in after Mikal. He rolls his eyes in amusement at Norris.
The old priest, aged and a little hunched over, gapes as the people push through. "This is the Basilica of St. George! This is not the Temples Quarter! If you want I can give you directions to the Hanging Gardens! What in the name of God are you people doing here?!"
Mikal says, "You will direct us to the labyrinth, gatekeeper."
Jareth's eyes dance as he smiles at the priest, having gotten the feeling that the old man has a sense of humour, "Ahh, funny you should put it that way."
Norris feels irritation building in him...but when Jareth speaks, he decides to have the silver-tongued of their party speak. Eloquence is not his forte...and he would not unlimber the god-smith's anger on this aged priest without cause.
The old man bristles at Mikal's command. "Look here, miss! I will do no such thing! You come barging in here making a ruckus, making demands as if you own the place and without even the courtesy of a by-your-leave! Now I'm not going to do a blessed thing 'till you tell me just who in the heck y'all are!"
Jareth reaches out and lays a hand on Mikal's shoulder, gentle and quiet as he can, "We come, elder, to traverse the labyrinth."
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