| Logs |
2010 June 06
| When The Bough Breaks |
| Realms |
Retired
| Reality Fault |
General Info
 |
| Realms: Bough Logs |
Sixth Movement, Fourth Verse
The vast, echoing caverns beneath Mount Zion, the twisting passages and the titanic chasm, are still but for the sound of winds breezing through them, and, on one stone platform that overlooks a dark eternity, the soft sobs of a god wracked with barely-recovering madness. Hadad is curled up in Jareth's -- Lilith's arms, just no freed from the prison where, apparently, the Architect had made him the designated "Antichrist" for whatever apocalyptic melodrama he had planned in the future.
The volcano god leaves Baal to Lilith for the moment, looking at Inanna. "Why do you think they did this to him? And what does killing him gain the Architect?
Hephaestus speaks quietly, here...trying to be sensitive to the traumatized Baal.
Lilith rocks her body gently as if she were holding a child, fingers combing his hair back from his forehead. Her voice is crooning, as if Hadad cannot understand her words and only her tone, "If they had released him while he was mad, he would have laid the city waste..."
Pity shines in Inanna's eyes, and she nods once to Lilith's comment, "Exactly. Babylon would have fallen with no loss of angels." She looks upwards, her gaze growing stormy with anger, "What sort of father is so careless with his beloved children?! He does not deserve them!"
Mikal looks back up the hallway, then down the path they must take, and swears softly, "I am a fool. We should have freed him on the way back -- we must go down below the Nether, and he cannot survive that." She whirls to Raphael, her voice urgent and quiet, "Big brother, check up and down the path a small bit, please? See if there is a place we can tuck poor Baal for the moment, so we can take care of our mission below, then collect him as we return."
It takes some time for Hadad to calm himself, to stop weeping and to finally open his eyes, wearily. "So long," he murmurs. "So... damn... long...." Then he blinks, looking -- still a bit woozily -- at the four standing there. "Do my... do my eyes deceive me? Is it... is it really you? After all this time?"
Lilith smiles down at her step-son and kisses his forehead, murmuring, "I had thought you dead, child."
Inanna steps forward and kneels on the other side of Baal, opposite Lilith. She kisses her fingertips, then rests them lightly on the weeping god's forehead, then lips, then heart, murmuring softly as she does so, "Blessings and healing on your spirit, Baal Hadaad: may it learn once more to soar. Blessings and healing on your voice: may it always speak truth and sing praises. Blessings and healing on your heart: may it swell once more with joy." After that she smiles down at Lilith's stepson, saying more normally, "Welcome back, old friend."
Hephaestus looks compassionately down at Baal, seeing something of himself in the tormented son of El. "More or less. It is saddening that it has taken us this long, and so much suffering has occurred during our absence."
Raphael nods, and starts to go... but he hesitates. With a glance to Inanna, he takes a moment to *shlurp!* Hadad in the face, before scrambling off, giggling inwardly.
Baal Hadad gaacks! at the sloppy pseudo-canine lick. "Augh," he says, wiping his face. "He hasn't changed... still utterly no respect for anyone!" He says it in a greatly relieved tone, however. He looks up to Lilith, and sinks back into her embrace. "I had thought myself dead, Mother Lilith. And I had wished it to be so." With Inanna's blessing, he seems to calm enough to almost be fully at ease. THen he blinks again, sitting up sharply and looking around at the three mortals. "Wait," he says, dazed. "How... how can this be? I know you, I know your forms, I see your shapes, but you are... you are mortal. It... it worked, then?"
Inanna laughs, giving the quadruped a light, affectionate punch on the shoulder, "Get you gone, mischief-maker!" She turns and nods to Hadad, still smiling, "Aye, it worked."
Hephaestus smiles, looking at his family. "While we can't remember how...yes. We stayed in the cycle of life for many, many turnings. The Architect and his angels were clearly unknowing of our plan, and have already suffered defeats."
Hadad rubs his forehead, taking slow breaths. "I'm glad. I'm.. very, very glad. Maybe... maybe it can all be turned around, at last. I... I don't imagine any of you know how long it's been, do you? How long I've been in there?"
Lilith says simply, "Too long." One hand is starting to move over Hadad's body, searching to see if he has any injuries.
Norris shakes his head. "Do you remember the assault on Polaris? How it ended? Because if not...you might have been in there since then."
Hadad makes no move to move Lilith's hands away; she finds no injuries on his body, only the lingering traces of madness fading. "I remember... a flock of the six-winged beasts that blotted out the sky. Overpowered. They held me and took me back to Zion while the rest of their number laid waste to Polaris.... After that, I don't remember much. Only anger, and rage.... when I got out of this vault I was going to go forth across the Dreamtime and the Waking and conquer it all, and raise up an empire that would deny the Architect and spit in his face....."
Inanna says crisply, "That is the past, child, and redolent of madness -- the Architect's contagious insanity. It is time to make a new future! Are you able to walk? Is your hold on your mind strong enough yet?"
Lilith shakes her head slowly, "That... that is not wht you were, beloved child."
Hadad makes a quiet sound. "I... I think so, Queen Inanna, yes. Where are we?" He stands, slowly and a little shakily. "I know it wasn't me, Stepmother," he murmurs. "But... it's what I wanted to do, after seeing what he did. I.. could never understand how you could just accept the role Father had made for you after the Babylonian Captivity." He shakes his head. "But now I see what he wanted me to do. To be his damnable Antichrist that provides justification for him to enforce his will in the Waking!"
Lilith smirks slightly and says, "I did not accept it, child. If I had, I would not have been trying to find a way to stop him." Now that Hadad is safe, Lilith is starting to fade back into the bard.
Inanna nods approvingly, gently stroking the young god's back as he rises, "Well perceived, yes. Loki searches out a hiding place for you until we return -- we must still complete our mission lower down, through the Nether, and you may not accompany us there."
Hadad smiles wanly to Jareth-Lilith, then blinks to Inanna. "What? Down to the Nether? Why, and how-- no, wait... you are mortal, and can enter the Nether." He arches a brow. "Intriguing...."
Norris considers the matter of protecting Hadad. "I cannot shape a redoubt to protect him...there will likely be the same problem as before, with this place trying to retain it's shape. But perhaps I can build him protection through more mundane means."
Hadad asks, "Where are we, anyway? Underground, certainly, but what is above us?"
Inanna nods approvingly to Hephaestus, "Excellent. Once Loki has found a likely spot, it would be wonderful if your skills could help hide him." She steps out of the little alcove and glances around for Raphael, checking to see if he's returned yet.
Lilith smiles wryly and looks at the ceiling overhead, "A basilica. Honouring a saint for El-Amon-Re."
Raphal scampers down the trail leading back the way they came. He didn't really find a place to hide, but he does remind Inanna of the side-path that seemed to be quite well-hidden that she spotted.
Hadad frowns, and looks around. "Hell of a basilica," he murmurs.
Hephaestus goes to the donkey, chuckling dryly. "These are the catacombs beneath, Lord Hadad." He takes out a sturdy crowbar as he considers the puzzle.
Inanna considers, then nods, "It will have to do -- and it has the added benefit of allowing Hadaad a safe way out should we not return in a timely fashion." She turns to the others, "Come! We must hurry and conceal Baal safely before the Architect's deceived puppets get that far, then continue on our way downbelow." She ties the donkey's tether to a rock outcropping that's safely away from the precipice, patting the burro gently and crooning a calming blessing to him before she whirls and heads up the trail again at a jogtrot.
Hadad nods, a touch warily. Then he blinks, and follows along after Inanna when Jareth-Lilith do so.
Raphael also suggests that perhaps Saladin might help, as he pads quickly up the trail.
Jareth has faded physically back to the slender male body, but much of the grace is the same.
Inanna murmurs, "Excellent idea," to the raptor-wolf, then passes on the information over her shoulder to Baal as they head upwards, with Raphael scouting swiftly ahead to make sure they do not run back into the bewitched Swiss Guard.
The smith continues to take the rear guard, studying Hadad from behind, as if worried he might collapse.
Hadad looks quite surpised at Jareth's form, an as he goes with the group upward, he asks quietly, "How... how does it feel?" To Hephaestus-Norris, Hadad looks a little tired and worn, but more from hammering at the vault, and emotional overload, door than exhaustion.
Jareth looks over his shoulder at Hadad with a smile. It's not quite a grin. "It feels... rather exciting sometimes. The sure knowledge that you will die someday makes you want to live more fully."
Hadad winces a little, and can't bring himself to make reply.
Eventually, they reach the fork in the path -- from this direction, it's still not obvious but it's easier to spot than when coming down -- and head up it. It veers off dramatically, and heads upward sharply. The air gets somewhat more moist.
Norris studies the walls that lead into the semi-secret passage. "This would take too long to dig out. We'll have to rely on the difficulty to even see the passage, here." he muses.
Inanna nods to Hephaestus, patting the big smith lightly on the arm, "Do not concern yourself, my friend -- sometimes subtlety is our friend!" She grins up at him, then turns to Hadaad. Quickly she explains: he should stay silent and out of sight, up the hidden trail a bit, and just rest and recover. He should wait for the group to return to him, not answering any hails or coming down to see who any passing lights are. If the group does not return in about 36 hours, then he should follow the trail out, head on out into the city, and look for Saladin in the Scholars' section of the city -- he can be trusted to help.
Hadad nods, clasping the forarms of his once-fellow-and-future gods, wishing them luck as he goes up side-passage.
Inanna wishes the Architect's disinherited son blessings and good fortune -- then turns and trots swiftly back down the trail. Her voice is soft, "Come, we must hurry!"
Norris is only too happy to pick up the pace...he briefly considers trying to do something to impede the guards following them, but that would only get in their way of coming back, as well. So he merely focuses on the journey ahead.
Mikal pauses long enough to untie the burro's lead, then hands it to Jareth once more. After that she steps to the fore again, falling into the same order-of-go they'd followed previously. They head downwards... ever down.
The path back downward from the stone platform seems almost surreal from that point. The place becomes something like a maze, but the group, having remembered to include chalk in the burro's packs, makes markings and notes to keep track of their path. They pass through small caverns with the ruins and detrius of what must be countless iterations of the Architect's religion in the Waking, Dreamtime echoes whoch have been put here to never be forgotten, yet not quite remembered either.
The most remarkable and dramatic one that gives them pause is what looks like a massive temple, in good condition yet at the same time heavy with dust and age. It is easy to look in through the wide doors; the tabernacle curtain has been rent asunder, but whatever it concealed is long gone.
Inanna pauses at that one, her gaze weary as she looks within. When she glances over at Lilith/Jareth there is pity in her eyes... but she does not linger, instead turning and heading grimly onwards.
Hephaestus can't help but arch his brow...someone dared to steal from beneath the Basilica? or maybe it was just moved elsewhere for safety.
The trail of broken monuments, buildings, and statuary continues. Finally, in one small, lonely cavern, lit by the flickering orange light of the Nether through a passage just ahead, is a single broken stone altar with a pair of broken wooden poles.
Through the passage, the trail angles downward steeply, as if down into a pool of orange water. But the group is well familiar with the Nether and what it looks like. From this point on, none who are not mortal may go any further.
Silent tears trail down Inanna's cheeks as she runs a hand slowly, almost forlornly, down one of the broken poles.
Hephaestus considers. "We should tie up the donkey, leave him with some food..." He looks at Inanna. "What is wrong?"
The little burro's small hooves clatter slightly on the stone floor, causing Inanna to flinch slightly and close her eyes, turning her face away from the damaged altar. Her voice is a quiet whisper, "The poles... Asherah's trees, formerly my reed gateposts. There was a time when Asherah was El's Sophia... when he loved her truly... when he could still love." She rubs the back of one hand over her cheek, then straightens, her voice thin but stronger, "That was in the past; it is different now. Come, we must continue."
Hephaestus does not know what to say to that, but is sure that Inanna can feel his compassion. "Aye."
Entering the Nether is pretty much as it was in the past -- the faint sensation of water without it being actually wet, and stepping into the boundary between the "normal" Dreamtime and the Nether does not offer much resistance. There is one difference, however: Their god-natures begin to dissolve as they step into the Nether, not reasserting themselves unless they step out of the Nether again.
Mikal blinks a bit startledly several minutes later -- then blushes hotly as she realizes just how... how, um, impetuously she's been behaving! She ducks her head a bit, hoping no one noticed... and doggedly continues trying to be a good point-scout.
It doesn't occur to the nervous, shy young girl... but she's just effectively passed through one of the gates to the Underworld, after having to set aside a symbol of her power.
Norris keeps right on walking, even as his form ripples, and returns to normal. He does not feel so bemused himself...finally allowing his divine spirit to come forth was almost a relief at the time, showing him he had no reason to fear the mighty earth deity. And Hephaestus goes quietly back inside the young smith's self, confident that Norris can handle things.
The descent into the Nether is otherwise like the last time they did this; once through the boundary layer, it is easy to pass through. Everything is cast in a faint orange light, which allows for easy visibility. Their passage is also seemingly easier, the steps easier to find, the footing surer. There are fewer artifacts here, almost none, and what is here seems more like memorials or remains from other mortal travelers.
As they descend further, however, they start to feel a faint stirring in their minds, distant but present. Snippets, perhaps, or whispers of their Waking lives.
As Jareth follows Mikal, much like Lilith at one time would have stayed with Inanna, he hears the voices of the past lives, male and female. For a moment, he is a small, freckled woman with audacious red hair and a figure that's a little too plump for the "flapper" fashion that's sprung up in the time around prohibition. She's pouring a clear liquid from a crystal decanter as she leans in to say something to a young man that's trying hard to hold onto his proper manners.
The goatherd's lips twitch and he remembers the flamboyant thrill of running a speakeasy, but before he has time to dwell, he is in France, looking up at a statue of himself as Lilith and feeling an obscure pride even as he escorts a young lady to a quieter part of the formal gardens.
Ashana-he is walking with his war party. Once, he was a simple craftsman, making jewlery and adorments for leathers and tipi, and peace pipes. Now the white man invades his lands, and he asked his tribe's war leader to school him in the ways of the bow and the spear, to protect his home, his wife, his children. He is confused at one point...the armor he wears is made of some strange material, harder than flint or bone. Is it this 'metal' the whites used? The heavy club he keeps strapped to his back seems to be made of the same. But it is no matter. The tools will serve, and he will do his duty to the tribe.
Mikal pauses, feeling something like a cool breeze down her spine. That was... unpleasant! She frowns, focusing very carefully on the here and now. She's leading here, the first line of defense for her pack! She cannot let them down.
The moment passes for the group, as they reach what seems the bottom of the trail, and the cavern opens up before them.
The first impression anyone has if more or less of Hell.
The floor of the cavern is mottled -- stone paths wend their way through pools and rivers of red-cool lava. Waves of heat rise from the floor, casting wavering patterns in the air. The orange light of the Nether does not help the image. The air is breathable, just slightly unpleasantly warm.
In the near distance, is what at first looks like a city but actually a large building. Black smooth basalt, polished to a mirror sheen, rises from the jumble of granite that forms the foundation for the edifice, and red opaque glass is inlayed into the stone. The main building is shaped like a narrow, slender onion, bulging a bit about a quarter of the way up and curving upward to a narrow peak; the great red windows form curving highlights, and petals of basalt-and-glass are wrapped around the structure. Surrounding it are smaller structures, some onion-shaped and others more conventional. The whole looks unplesantly like a medium-sized cross-shaped cathedral, except it looks almsot grown, or at least all the sharp corners smoothed down.
This... this must be Enoch-Nod.
Mikal looks around a bit bemusedly, "Umm... Raph? M-maybe you should go first, big brother, since you're better with f-fire? And, uh, I'm not sure wh-where to look for the part of M-m-metatron's name?"
As the Oglala warrior comes face to face with this grim looking edifice, the memory of that life fades, and the smith is once again himself. Norris looks around at the lava, feeling the heat, and wonders if Hephaestus would like this place, being elementally tied to the volcano. "That is not a place made with love." he asserts.
The big raptor-wolf bumps companionably against the nervous girl, padding forward to lead. His long claws click lightly on the stone floor as he heads for the big building.
The path Raphael leads them down towards the red-and-black cathedral soon reaches what looks like an island of volcanic glass, ground up like coarse sand. They stand at the gates leading into the city; the black basalt has been worn down and the gates stay open; the pillars supporting the black iron gates once had writing on them but most of it is faded; all that can be made out on them now is the faded, dulled writing that says, in part: 'Justice moved my lofty maker: the divine Power, the supreme Wisdom and the primal Love made me....'
Mikal looks up at the writing for a long, silent moment... then simply shakes her head and pads silently on in. Her shoulders are tight with unhappy tension.
Norris doesn't recognize the words. "What is that from? Who is the writer?"
Mikal murmurs dully, "The Inferno. Dante. It's twisting the bible."
Passing through he gate, the cathedral and its complex seems preternaturally quiet -- not entirely still, but quiet. There isn't a lot of movement right now that they can see. Ahead of them, the doors to the cathedral itself also stand slightly ajar, the great black stone doors elaborately carved. And yet, as they draw closer, the group thinks they can hear quiet choral singing from within. The singing itself is not at all unpleasant.
Norris ahs. And then looks at Mikal again. "Is that good, or bad? I mean...the bible isn't exactly a very nice book."
Jareth murmurs, "Abandon hope..."
Mikal takes a breath, then whispers, "Through me is the way into the woeful city; through me is the way into eternal woe; through me is the way among the lost people. Justice moved my lofty maker: the divine Power, the supreme Wisdom and the primal Love made me. Before me were no things created, unless eternal, and I eternal last. Abandon all hope, ye who enter here!"
Jareth shivers, "The Gates of Hell."
Mikal looks back at Norris, her gaze haunted, "It... just is, Norr. This is the Architect's place of punishment." As she turns to face forward and continue walking, she adds quietly, "He was... disturbingly imaginative..."
She pauses as Raphael turns and bumps her hard with a shoulder. She looks at him confusedly for a moment... then nods, "Good point." She straightens deliberately, her shoulders going back and her chin rising, "It would behoove us to leave behind us every fear and every cowardice. We, after all, still have understanding of what is truly good." She takes a deep breath -- then strides firmly after Raphael.
Norris is not afraid. Confused, and sad, but not afraid. He continues to hold the rear, even as he looks carefully around, protecting his pack.
The doors part silently as they enter the cathedral. Inside, it is more of the black basalt and red glass, and the sharp corners are smoothed, but it is otherwise similar to any other cathedral. The singing comes from the choiry along the side of the longer stretch of the cross-shaped floorplan; all twelve singers are mortal, in black religious vestments of various, but simple, types; though there is no white to be seen, rather a shade of dark red where there would be white. At the center of the cathedral, where the 'arms' of the cross meet in the floorplan, there is an altar, bare but for some candles and a large, obsidian, baroque cross (not a crucifix.) But before the altar is what looks like a smooth-edged casket or coffin, that looks about as sealed as such a thing can be.
Somewhere in the cathedral, there is the faint rattle of chains. The singing falters, but only for a single measure.
Mikal looks around bemusedly as she enters, whispering softly, "Wh-what made that noise?"
Norris does not give the singers a glance...he's far more curious about the casket, wondering who would be buried here. He goes right up and studies it with interest.
The singers do not seem to make any reaction to Norris as he goes up to the casket, though it is a long walk, and he can't help but notice their eyes following him. At the same time, Mikal's bow is vibrating softly in its gorytus.
Mikal whispers mentally to the bow, [What is it, Papaios?]
Papaios replies, [Something in this place speaks to me. I have never been here, but something of it reminds me of my first wielder.]
Norris reaches the casket. It is rather elaborate, almost baroque if it didn't look so curved and smooth-edged. And engraved on the red lid, near about chest-height, is a simple word inlaid in black: 'ABEL'
Norris grimaces. Even he gets this particular reference. "The first murder." he mumbles, shaking his head. He touches the lid. "Where's your brother, hey? Is he somewhere about, or does he wander the Dreamtime, somewhere, with the mark on his forehead?" He considers, briefly, trying to open himself to the coffin, but decides against it. There's no need to experience that particular event. Instead, he starts looking around for books, scrolls, or even words etched into stone.
Mikal glances over at Norris... then pads silently over. She rests a hand lightly on the top of the casket and sings a soft prayer for the poor murdered boy. Once she's done that she looks around, trying to figure out where the clanking chain sounds are coming from.
Without even really thinking about it, Jareth reaches out, feeling with his second sight to see if there is something here to lead them to the right path.
Jareth's second sight doesn't seem to pick out anything here, at least right away. Mikal, though, spots a figure in the dim corner of the sacristy, looking hunched-over and cloaked; it appears to be kneeling in prayer. The figure shifts a little, and the faint sound of clanking chain accompanies the movement.
Mikal patters quietly over to look at the person, wondering who this is. Whomever they are, they seem to spook the singers somewhat. She rests her hands on her knees as she leans over to study the person, staying well out of reach of a long lunging grab. Her voice is soft, "H-hello? Who are you, and why are you chained?"
The choir at least stills as Mikal addresses the figure. In the shadows of the sacristy, the figure straightens -- but only a little -- the chain clanking as if the person was startled. "You... you don't know?" The voice that comes back is quiet and soft and sounds as if every last iota of defiance has been beaten out of it. The figure stands (it is still hunched over) and shuffles into the slightly more well-lit area. As it enters the light, the group can see that it is clad in a ratty cloak made from a wool blanket; the clothing it wears is worn and torn, and the person's body has more than a few sores; he also doesn't smell entirely wholesome. The 'hood' of the makeshift cloak drapes almost over the person's eyes. "You really don't know?" he asks Mikal.
Mikal tilts her head to study the figure... there's pity in her eyes as she shakes her head, "No, I'm sorry I don't... but I'm more sorry that you've been hurt so. Who are you, please, if it doesn't hurt too much to talk with us?"
Norris peers at the raggedy man curiously as he comes over from his so far fruitless search.
The figure shrinks back a little. "Just... a little. My name... my name is Cain."
Mikal looks startled, "You? You're Cain? But... why are you chained? Weren't you supposed to be able to wander the Earth? Your god's mark on you was supposed to keep other mortals from raising their hands against you, right?"
Norris's eyes widen. So, Abel's brother is closer at hand than expected. But he is similarly perplexed as Mikal...why does he look and sound like this? How could anyone have beaten him so thoroughly, when that should have been forbidden by the Architect?
Jareth can't help but step forward, biting his bottom lip. His hand is already reaching out, "You're ill..." His smile is tight and tired, "And El-Amon-Re has not always kept his word."
[Previous Log] [Index] [Next Log]