| Logs |
2010 July 11
| When The Bough Breaks |
| Realms |
Retired
| Reality Fault |
General Info
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| Realms: Bough Logs |
Intermezzo: Babylon's Own Reprise
The groups' stay as mortals in the Dreamtime has always been punctuated with the occasional timeless, misplaced moment. Sometimes they are 'flashbacks' to times that they remember in their past Waking lives. Sometimes they are like lucid dreams of those memories. And sometimes they are displacements, even sometimes in the middle of chaotic and tense situations, where there is a moment someplace else, somewhen else, in the Dreamtime.Even as they approach the walls of the Temples Quarter, the true heart of Babylon, Norris and Jareth find themselves at the periphery of the powerfully primal drum-dancing that Jareth-Lilith induced, and which the inhabitants of the Silks Quarter -- and Babylon herself -- answered. Even now they see the thronging crowds, hear the drum beats that quicken the pulse and the heart, feel the energy that seems to rush out over them in sheets as the red banners unfurl themselves out of nothing to bless the dancers as they heed the most ancient call to ecstatic communion with each other and the world -- and the City of Cities -- around them. They are, though, far enough that they do not fall again under its sway, or perhaps they already did which is why they are not drawn to the stamping feet and the bodies that writhe against each other in almost serpentine ways.
Jareth blinks for a moment. 'I should be used to this by now,' he thinks, 'but it always takes me by surprise.' That thought is immediately followed by a moment of awe as he recognizes what he's seeing and his jaw drops, "I did this?" He doesn't even realize he's speaking out loud.
Norris smiles warmly, and his hand snakes into Jareth's own. "You troublemaker, you." he says, in an impish tone of voice that feels strange coming from the quiet, serious, stalwart smith. And then he's tugging at Jareth almost playfully., pulling him towards the others. "Come along. See the horrible mess you made. The Architect must be horribly dissapointed with all these people full of the joy you brought to them." The glee in the big man's eyes is almost comical.
Jareth snorts laughter and lets himself be pulled along, though he's goggling at the thing he triggered off. He also grins at Norris' back. He knows the stolid smith has a fun-loving streak in him, and it's nice to see it come out. He also knows that it doesn't pay to worry about what else mgiht be happening now. The Dreamtime seems to have its own ideas about where they should be sometimes.
Norris changes between one moment and the next...or maybe the moment that the two of them were pulled into changed him first. He's no longer wearing his cumbersome armor, instead only a free flowing colorful garment that the people of Lemnos once wore. Norris has been changing, slowly, but if anything, it seems that accepting Hephaestus into himself has done the young man some good. He leads Jareth into the throng of bodies, joining the tumult though never letting go of the young bard's hand. "We had revelrys like these! And she always insisted I attend, though I could not dance!" he says over the noise...suddenly pressing a goblet of something red into Jareth's hand.
Seen from without, that is, from the outside rather than instigating it, the thronging crowd that gathered to dance tribally to the drums whose players seem to multiply as more and more people join... the crowd is a cross-section of humanity from the earliest cultures to what Norris and Jareth recognize as the 'modern' era; if there are any from beyond that time, they do not stand out as such. Diving into the dancing, ululating crowd is as much a sensual act as anything, as everyone presses against everyone else: some simply because it's crowded, others because there is something that sings to their spirits here, that urges them to dance as if one body and one heavy, thumping pulse. The mass of dancers is one body, and the drums are its heart.
Jareth feels the beat of his heart speeding up, blood pulsing along with the drums. And he feels safe. With the terrors that have come at them since leaving Staunton, the bard would have been dead... truly dead... long since if it had not been for the huntress and the smith. He trusts these people with his life and his very soul, and he loves seeing it when the two of them are able to revel in joy. He laughs and pulls off his shirt again, looping it through his belt to leave his torso bare again. What a story!
Norris drinks from a cup offered him, some of the liquid spilling down the corners of his mouth...if it was alcoholic, he could not tell, already getting more than a little drunk on the vibe. "I can dance now. I am no longer hampered by injury or guilt... I can dance, and so can you, my brother." he rumbles in almost a purr, pulling the now shirtless Jareth against him, sliding his hand up into the young man's hair. There is seemingly many forces at work here: whatever this moment it, it is more than just Norris or Hephaestus in the eyes of the broad shouldered smith. "She would want me to be happy." he murmurs to Jareth, almost nuzzling his face. "Are you?"
Jareth happily drinks the crimson wine handed to him by Norris, though he doesn't spill it down himself. He is surprised by Norris' sweet aggression and drops the cup without a second thought. As Jareth, he is still not used to the attraction that flares up between himself and his male companion, but he does enjoy it. His hands reach up and rest on Norris' shoulders as he laughs, pupils dilating with the pulsebeat drumming and the rush of his blood, "Oh, yes. I am... Very happy..." He's letting himself start to move with the rhythm of the music, hips leading because drums settle into this hips and thighs naturally.
The drums seem to last forever; the eternal, endless rhythms the drummers are hammering out have no beginning and no end, just as they should. The heaviest are the massive taiko drums that seem to beat one's heart all their own, but even the lighter drums provide their own guidance for the feet and the body and the hands.
The crowd throngs around them, all thought of hame gone; Norris is rubbing elbows with a Hollywood diva in satin gown to one side, and a man with a grass skirt and headdress, with fronds tied to his ankles and wrists and clad in a grass-woven cape, to his other; behind Jareth are a troupe of clubbers, the back of one androgynous rubber-dressed person pressing against his own back. And all around are more of the same, and yet none are at all the same.
Norris could not explain the change in him...normally, he is held back by doubt, not wanting to presume or make his packmates uncomfortable. He wants to be more fully one with them, and that includes the intimacy that for the most part, was wholely between Mikal and Jareth. His connections between himself and them, are far more tenuous, even with his acceptance of Innana's give of Me, and the time on the balcony in Italy, during the festival. This is the first time that there has been an appropriate moment, and the smith seizes it as much as he's seized Jareth himself, moving with him to the heart beat of Babylon. But then, of course, as is common with chaos of this nature, they are separated, and for a while, this is well as well. He wants to share his joy with everyone!
The young bard closes his eyes, letting himself get caught up in the sheer ensuality of the moment. He almost feels synesthetic, tasting the music, breathing in the caress of latex and skin against his own bare back. When Norris gets pulled away from him, Jareth realizes that he wants the smith close to him again. There is a young woman dressed in a cotton-gauze skirt and peasant blouse with honest-to-goodness flowers in her hair and round, purple-lensed eyeglasses that hands him a daisy and receives a kiss from him in return.
The press of bodies and the laughter, joy and dancing all around is tugging at Jareth's goddess-nature, pulling it more to the fore. And while Jareth may have little idea how to react to attraction to a male, Lilith is quite comfortable with it.
There is no 'typical' dance that any of the revellers do; no 'standard move.' The flapper is as likely to be stomping her feet in the style of the Plains native Americans as the Hopi. And there are others besides, those who are not so much dancing as they are letting the energy of the dancing flow through them; the woman who gave Jareth the daisy is but one.
When Jareth is able to see the smith again, Norris seems to be getting a little carried away. While not being as wild as the God of Wine's maenads, he appears to be showing off a little overmuch. With a touch, he turns one woman's plain smock into a crimson, layered dress worthy of a gypsy dancer. Another man's tabard becomes white silk trousers and a glittering golden jacket. One woman who wore a ball gown now dances in something that looking like nothing but a chemise made of jewels.
He laughs and slides through the crowd as easily as a fish through water and slides his arms around Norris from behind, laughter throaty and amused, "You're showing off, dearheart. Let them make their own finery." He lets one hand slide down the front of Norris' hip and the other up to rest in the center of his chest, tapping gently in the tempo of his own pulse.
Norris lets out a sound that is most like the purr of a kitten, feeling the beautiful man's hands on him, his heart beating faster even as he moves slower, savoring the moment with Jareth. "It won't last, anyway, it's not a true crafting...but today, in this moment, I wanted everyone to feel as beautiful as they are." he rumbles. He turns after a handful of moments, facing his well-loved packmate as his own large arms slide over the bard, feeling the line of his back, basking in the perfection of his upturned face. "Everyone deserves to feel the divinity inside, to feel powerful." he whispers as he strokes Jareth's cheek. And then a doubt creeps into the smith's expression...he wants it so badly, to kiss Jareth, to give in to the tumult of emotion that washes over him, but he would not force himself on his two-spirited brother so.
Jareth barely waits for Norris to stop speaking before he slides himself up along the smith's body, hands resting on either side of his face, and kisses him. The sensations are different. The scents are different. Jareth is used to the soft skins and warm, lush curves of female bodies under his hands. Having the muscled planes of Norris there instead is odd, but far from unpleasant. And he can sense the smith's hesitation and knows it for what it is. He gives as much reassurance as he can with the kiss, letting passion and pleasant sensations pour through him.
As Jareth, he is used to being the aggressor, but a whisper from Lilith urges him to rein in after a moment, giving Norris the chance to respond.
While fragments of memories and urges of the hedonistic Count Melzi are what give Norris the confidence to kiss his packbrother, he is still not prepared for how sweet Jareth lips taste...and it's not just the fruit wine. Norris hugs Jareth to him, shivering even though this is what he has wanted for so very long. The dancing and music all around them become merely background noise, as everything is Jareth's lush lips and his soft body cradled against him. When he finally stops, gasping for air, and the noise around them gets louder, he is red-faced, but entirely too happy. "Would you join me?" he whispers, throatily, with Hephaestus's voice as much as Norris's.
Norris indicates what seems to be a fest hall of some kind with his eyes, his heart in his throat.
Jareth's eyes are laughing as much as his voice, "Join you? But I'm right here with you!" The bard's body is soft only in comparison to Norris'. The skin is that of someone that has not had to labor over a forge, but the body is slender with firm muscles under the skin. And he still moves slightly with the drumbeat heart of the city, feeling as if he can sense every being dancing out their joy.
Norris makes an embarassed sound, then, and some of his confidence dribbles away. He's not exactly practiced at this, not the way Jareth is with the many maids of Stanton, or Lilith with her myriad lovers. And between Hephaestus and Aphrodite, it's clear who took the responsibility for encouraging intimacy. "I mean...inside. Alone." he explains, as he slides his hand up Jareth's chest with implication, his other hand slipped down and cupping the bard's backside.
The goddess smiles out of Jareth's eyes and his voice is gentle as he says, "It is always best to be clear in your requests, my friend, my dear one." A teasing grin flashes across his face, "If you don't ask, you may not receive..." He lets his body lean against Norris' front for a moment, feeling the press of bodies around them, "If you wish to be out of the press of the crowd, I'll go with you. I can feel my city's joy all through me."
Norris scowls at the playful Jareth, but he cannot deny the wisdom in his words. He leads the bard inside, and arranges for a private room, but one with attendant luxuries. Once there, Norris removes his own top garment, and encourages Jareth to sit as he plucks up a phial of scented oil with one hand, and a fresh grape with the other. He offers the sweet treat to Jareth's lips before uncorking the phial - if there's one thing he learned as a god, it was how to pamper his wife, and some things likely translate well to either sex. "May I give you a massage?"
Jareth lets himself be led inside the hall, smiling all the while. Half the time, his eyes aren't even open, letting himself be led and knowing that Norris won't let him come to harm. It's unexpectedly luxurious, that trust, and he lets it wash over him. He takes the grape, careful to let his teeth graze skin for a moment as he does. To the question, he says, "I think I'd enjoy that." With the lazy grace and self-assurance of the cat whose name he has been using, he stretches out and rolls onto his stomach, crossing his arms so he can pillow his head on them.
The two are not the only ones to have such an idea. Many of the buildings surrounding and within the reveling streets have their own dancing going on, but as one enters deeper into them, where the drumbeats are distant and only the largest drums can be heard -- and there are still many of these large, heavy drums that seem to have been carried in by teams of a dozen people. Many rooms and halls and porticos and balconies are filled with couples and triples and multiples who are taing a breather, enjoying the energy peripherally or giving in to whatever primal hungers the dancing has stirred.
Norris shows, over the next several minutes, that he has the kind of hands that is is good to have. While it's unlikely that Jareth has any particular knots of tension in his body, not after the successful foray into the depts of the Basilica and Enoch-Nod went as well as cold be expected. Yes, things were hairy for a time with Cain, and he knew it was hardest for Jareth, feeling the anguish of Lilith in him. But now that ugliness has been put behind him, and Norris is eager to bring the thoughts that have been brewing in his mind to life. Hands work the sandalwood oils into Jareth's muscles...shoulder, back, arms. And it is when the smith is working the small of Jareth's back that the young man might realize that, in fact, there is something clearly being...aroused, in Norris's mind. "Turn over." he whispers in Jareth's ear, then.
There is some surprise at how deft Norris' hands are, but then it slips away. Of course they are deft. He is a craftsman. Jareth makes little noises of pleasure from time to time and he smiles to himself at the hint of hoarseness in Norris' voice. The bard is a little vague as to how this might proceed, but he has a very clear idea of what it is that Norris is feeling. He knows it intimately from his own experience. What he's not entirely sure of is how those desires might be satisfied. Once Jareth rolls onto his back, he makes no move to hide his body's reactions to all the pleasant stimuli of touch and scent and sound. They had passed others resting or taking pleasure in one another, and that in itself is exciting.
For his own part, Norris knows very clearly what he wants, though he also knows from a certain italian noble that often, one cannot unlimber the whole menu of possible intimacies upon a new lover. It takes time and experience, never mind the trust that Jareth has already offered him. More than anything, he wants to please Jareth, to see that moment in his eyes when he gives himself completely over. When the lean man relaxes into the cushions, and Norris puts one large hand on his bare chest, carressing, he leans in not to kiss, but to whisper in his ear, offering certain...oral attentions. It's likely the easiest thing to accept, as it's something he's experienced before...just not from another man. He lifts his head back, awaiting Jareth's response with patient eyes.
The smile on Jareth's face is dreamy and he laughs again, gently, stroking his fingertips along the strong lines of jaw and cheekbone. It's a happy, purring sound and he's glad to give himself over to his friend's attentions, thinking muzzily that he might rather like to return them while the drums beat and the city dances to rhythms and patterns etched into the matter of history. He laughs again, unselfconscious as he pushes past the strangeness of the bodies involved and remembers what it is about lovemaking that he has always liked. The purely physical pleasure is good, but the connection is better. And what does it matter what shapes the bodies take?
It's a revelation that shifts something inside Jareth, eroding away some of the barriers that make the bard and the goddess two separate beings.
Norris is relieved at Jareth's acceptance of what he has to offer...and as one moment blends into the next, and pleasure is shared and bonds are deepened, something also heals deep inside the wounded smith god, missing his beloved wife. He will never forget the tempestuous woman that ensnared him with his first love, and he feels, though Jareth and Lilith, that she is there, now, smiling on the two friends turned packmates turned lovers. At the end, when the two are sated and happy, naked bodies slick with sweat as they take turns teasing with fruit, Norris feels he could take on Uriel all by himself. The only thing that would make this moment better would be to share it with Mikal...but that time will come soon enough.
Once that thought-shift takes place, it's easy for Jareth to fall into relaxation, pleasure and playfulness. He knows time is likely to slip on them again, and is happy that it stayed stable long enough for him to eagerly reflect some of Norris' desire and generosity. The bard/goddess has the same fleeting thoughts of his mate and lover, but is content to know that they are a family, and what will happen in the future cannot be worried over now.
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