| Logs |
2010 July 18
| When The Bough Breaks |
| Realms |
Retired
| Reality Fault |
General Info
 |
| Realms: Bough Logs |
Sixth Movement, Eighth Verse
Then, as if nothing at all happened to them, the great bronze doors of the Adad gate are opening up before the mortals, leading the way into the Temples Quarter, the spiritual heart of Babylon.
And it isn't exactly quiet here, either. There aren't thronging crowds like in the docks of the Scholar's Quarter, but there are more than a few crowds here, mostly in what used to be the traditional marketplace of Babylon; few are mortals, and those that are seem to be dreamers from the heyday of the city. There is not the bustle and cacophony that there is in the Silks Quarter, but there is more than a little activity.
Even, it seems, the temples are -- somewhat -- active, though not as much as they might be. Thin streamers of incense rise from them; it is not hard to remember the night before, in the wild dancing of the drums that Jareth-Lilith brought forth, when the incense rose like streams of smoke from the Quarter. But today, it is much more sedate.
Jareth feels his heart and breath quicken as he enters the Temples Quarter, nostrils flaring at the familiar scents. Unexpectedly, tears spring to his eyes.
A warm breeze blows through the Quarter, carrying with it the smell of the incense and the herbs and cooking in the marketplace. Hadad is straightening a little, looking somewhat less worn and tired. "I... I feel better," he says quietly. "Like I... know myself a little better." He looks around. "Where are we?"
Jareth reaches out to take Hadad's hand without even thinking about it. "We're in the Temples Quarter. We came through your gate. Take a deep breath."
Norris looks at Hadad sharply, looking pleased at his reaction even as he walks carefully around studying the activity and the buildings, and keeping alert.
Baal Hadad squeezes Jareth-Lilith's hand, taking in a deep breath, and looking around a little wondrously. "I remember this place," he says quietly. "I remember riding here through this gate to the... to my temple. I had a temple here, long ago. Before I went to Canaan and was given the title of 'Ba'al.'"
Jareth nods and looks around, eyes scanning the buildings, "Perhaps it is still here."
Norris looks curious. "Should we see if it is? Would that help?" he queries.
Hadad nods shakily. "Yes. Yes, that would be good, I think! I... I can feel whatever the Architect's worshippers want me to be a lot less, now...."
Jareth catches sight of the statues and grins, heart skipping a beat. Even if he didn't have ghost-memories through Lilith of her step-son's temple, the statues to the northeast of the Adad Gate give it away, "There!"
The great bronze doors close behind them with a quiet yet thunderous sound, and at that instant all the weariness, all the weight, all the bustle of Babylon under Zion goes away. It's like the Temples Quarter is its own little pocket universe; even Mount Zion is no longer visible from within the walls.
To the northeast of the Adad gate stands a smallish zigguraut. There is a great statue outside it's courtyard, standing before its steps as if beckoning visitors and worshippers. Despite the very Mesopotamian beard and conical hat, it is clearly Hadad.
Norris nods agreeably, brightening...and then his brow knits. "Wait, is this a good idea? Wouldn't this be a little like hiding the Holy Grail in a dishware shop run by Sir Galahad?" he queries. He considers. "Well, this might work out okay...Babylon is still a neutral city that the Architect or whoever is loath to lay siege to unless they have no other options. Let us bring you to your place of power, my friend, and see if we can't find you a comfortable basement to stay in," he suggests to Hadad.
Jareth reaches up and touches the back of Hadad's head with a little smile, as if making sure that the unwieldy hat isn't still in place.
Mikal pads silently and somewhat behind the others with Raphael trotting just ahead of her. She's looking back and forth with the bright-eyed interest of a tourist checking out how her home has changed in the years since she's been gone.
The statue indicates the temple over the low buildings along the street leading from Adad's gate. It doesn't take long, though, to turn onto the street that leads straight to the temple of Hadad. It is a soaring ziggurat, like the other buildings of Babylon made from a pale orange-beige sandstone, and in the form of a stepped pyramid. At the top of the three-story edifice is a bower of stone, open at the top and sides, upon which is the altar to Adad, the god of storms.
The ziggurat stands in the center of a courtyard, and a processional way leads from the edge of the courtyard the mortals stand at, lined with stone poles or thin pillars. Around the edge of the courtyard are what would be the storehouses and priests' quarters. Banners hang from the buildings, but the air is still, and no incense rises from the top of the zigguraut.
Mikal smiles, murmuring, "Your temple awaits your return, lord. Time to bring it and your people back to life and hope."
Norris is starting to like this idea less. If there were still people here, worshippers, priests, anyone, Hadad would have people to help him stay hidden. Or at the very least, not be alone. "Assuming there are people.." he rumbles, moving away from the others and trying to find signs of life.
Hadad swallows. "I... I don't know what waits me there," he says, nervously.
Jareth says, "Would you like us to check first?"
Hadad nods once, "Yes.... yes, please."
Mikal says firmly, "Well, now is the time to find out." She strides forward, her head held imperiously high, down the processional way. She cries out loudly, "What is this? What poor greeting is offered to visitors to this temple!"
There is no apparent answer to Mikal's call. A faint breeze stirs the banners.
Jareth hangs back with Hadad. Not only is he the least competent fighter, he is the one whose deific self knows Hadad best.
Mikal calmly heads for the nearest building, intending to fling open doors and see who or what is about.
Raphael gives a chuffing laugh, then hastily trots after Mikal so she at least has some backup.
Norris wasn't trying to be *that* abrupt...but also follows in her wake.
Mikal is searching for, at best, people -- and at worst, something flammable.
As Mikal heads inward, with Norris following, Hadad comes along, more to stay with them than anything. The faint smell of sage incense wafts among them.
The nearest building is clean and tidy... and empty. A freshening breeze makes the drapes over the window dance inward. Other than the drapes and a handful of placemats which appear to be woven reeds, there is nothing immediately flammable.
Jareth follows since Hadad is coming with them. His brows draw together, "This... feels like people are still here. If it's abandoned, where's the dust?"
Norris rubs his forhead. "Maybe ghosts live here, like in Angkor Wat? Or maybe there's just a very, very quiet ceremony going on somewhere. Or maybe they all went out to buy bread, and they'll be back later.
Norris points. "You know what?W e should probably check out the ziggurat. That's where Hadad's people ar emost likely to be, if they're *all* not here."
Mikal glances around thoughtfully, then says simply, "They come. I don't know how, but the place seems to be coming to life. Feel the change in the breeze?" She gathers up a handful of placemats for now, then continues going around the buildings. To Norris she says, "I will, but first we should have sacrifice."
Norris uhwhuh? "I'm sorry? Why?"
The scent of sage is getting stronger, as is the breeze. As they stop outside the small home, a ram's horn is blown from the top of the zigguraut, though nobody seems to be there.
With that sound, the entire Temple Quarter seems to go still.
Mikal glances amusedly over her shoulder at Norris as she heads for the next building, "This is the home of a god. Coming empty-handed is rude..." She goes still, glancing up at the top of the ziggurat -- then she looks at Hadad, curious as to how the noise will speak to him.
Hadad looks like you could knock him over with a feather, his face a mixture of recognition and bewilderment. "That's... that's the call to the priesthood," he says quietly. "They would... come out from their dwellings around the courtyard, preparing for the processional, to head upward to the top of the zigguraut." He rubs his head. "I know why I know this, but it's been so long... first as Ba'al Hadad and then as the Antikristos...
Norris looks at Jareth. "What did they sacrifice to Hadad? Will we have to hunt something, or would purchased livestock do okay?"
Norris can't remember, himself, if anyone sacrificed animals to Hephaestus. Likely not: it was works of craft that did the most honor to the smith god.
Jareth feels Lilith smiling through him and he says, "Your true nature, whispering through, stepson." To Norris' question, he says, "I think that something purchased could work. But we have to purchase it with something that has real value for us."
Mikal holds up the placemats to Norris, murmuring quietly, "Fire. Hold on -- let's see what he thinks should come next."
Hadad frowns, his brow creasing in thought. "I think... the first sacrifice was incense. Bowls of it, at the top of the zigguraut, to induce me to open up my gate above to let the rain come forth."
Jareth lets his eyes move to the top of the structure, hoping that smoke is going to begin rising, "Then we should check the top of the temple."
Mikal thinks a moment, then asks, "Where did your priesthood store your incense?"
He looks around, looking a little chagrined. "I don't clearly remember... wait... over there," He points to a windowless building just east of the zigguraut. "In there. The postulants would bring it there before the first harvest.
Norris doesn't stand around on ceremony. "Meet you up there." He immediately goes to the building and starts rooting around for incense...very curious what they burned to honor Adad.
Mikal nods and briskly heads that way, calling over her shoulder, "Incense, got it!" She hopes to somehow activate more here by walking through the steps.
The building is low and the door fits well against the entryway; it is clearly meant to keep out as much moisture as possible.
Inside the building Norris opened up, it is cool and dark; baskets of salts absorb moisture. There are bushels of incense -- sage, it seems, or something like it -- here, awaiting use.
As well as a young priest.
He looks up at Norris, as he gathers a bushel of incense, but does not look perturbed. "Oh, hello!" he says. "We don't get many visitors here. It's been... quite a while." He is gathering a selection of the dried herbs into a bowl.
Mikal peeks under Norris's arm as she too arrives -- and looks immediately fiercely pleased, "Excellent! We need incense for Hadad's return, please, and as soon as possible?"
Norris opens his mouth in bemusement. And then closes it. "We're just here for the offering to Adad." he explains, which is completely the truth. "Can I help you with your burden?"
The young priest -- an aethyr -- peers under Norris's arm, smiling to Mikal. "That is what I'm doing, lady, yes. I'm sorry it took us so long to wake up." He nods to Norris, "If you would, sir, please. I am not sure how much incense the high priest will want.
Outside, the wind is picking up even more, and wisps of grey clouds are starting to drift overhead.
Norris assists the priest contentedly: while there's no reason to burn bushels of it - indeed, it would be a waste - he gathers more than a fair share of it, and starts hiking up the steps of the ziggurat. And he looks at Hadad critically. "We should get you nicer clothes." he comments.
Hadad looks bemused, looking around and looking a little lost. "Why don't I remember this more clearly?" he murmurs to nobody in particular. "I must have been receiving their worship for hundreds of years, both before and when Nebuchandezzar rebuilt the city..."
Mikal backs out and looks up, immensely pleased to see the storm -- Hadad's power -- rising. She steps to the side, letting others manage the logistics of sacrifice to awaken the deity completely, and proclaim his rightful return. She herself paces slowly around the ziggurat, her bow in hand as she checks the lay of the land for defense, and keeps a sharp eye out for the arrival of the angels.
Norris would slap Hadad on the shoulder in a friendly manner, but his arms are full of incence bushels. "Your head's been messed with for even longer than that, sirrah. I expect it will all come back to you quickly." Once at the top of the stairs, he looks inquiringly at the Aethyr for instructions on placement of the offering.
As yet, there is no sign of the six-winged creatures -- in fact Mikal finds it interesting that she has to even make an effort to see Mount Zion at all, as if this part of Babylon did quite well for thousands of years without that mountain looming over it. As she circles the zigguraut, she espies an older high priest in traditional, classical Babylonian garb -- from before Nebuchandezzar -- being helped out of one of the buildings by another younger priest.
Hadad shakes his head, "Believe me, I'm trying to not remember my time under the mountain."
The young priest, as he emerges from the building holding all the incense, gives a deep, respectful bow to Hadad, saying, "Please give us some time, O Adad, so that our lugal may properly welcome you." He glances over to the older high preist. "Ah! He comes now."
Norris is relieved that the acolyte takes the appearance of Hadad in stride, unlike the poor gatekeeper of the Basilica, which was quite flummoxed by the appearance of Inanna in all her regal power. "Take heart. You are strong here. There is no need to remember that part of your past...this is who you are." he says to Hadad firmly.
Meanwhile, another priest is seen ascending the steps of the zigguraut, carrying a ram's horn. The breeze is now very fresh now, winding its way through the streets. The other temples of the Quarter are silent, now, and no incense rises from them.
The old high priest has by now reached the group, while the young priest with the incense is carrying it up the steps. "We had thought you lost!" he says, with quavering voice. "We had thought you plunged into the Nether when your loss marked the beginning of the Godswar."
Hadad nods to Norris, still flummoxed.
Jareth feels himself relaxing, keeping a hand resting gently on Hadad's forearm. He blinks as he realizes something, "The other temples have stilled..."
Mikal gently nudges Hadad, a wryly amused expression on her face. Her voice is low, "Greet your high priest, Storm Lord. He does you honor."
Norris feels a certain pleasure in this...not all the gods have passed on. They have brought one back to his people...surely there could be others! He hopes that there are. "They feel the return of one of the oldest ones." he suggests to Jareth...and then he blinks. The city, the city itself is Lilith's own. But if there is a temple to Hadad here... He motions Mikal urgently to one side.
Mikal swivels around as she also registers the complete silence of the other temples. She frowns, disturbed and wavering -- should she go check on her temple? A part of her pulls strongly that way; another part does not wish to leave her small Pack undefended.
Mikal nods sharply once to Norris, stepping aside with him. Her storm-gray eyes are still studying the sky and other temples as she murmurs softly to him, "Yes?"
"Is there a temple to Her, here, Rabbit? Can you feel it? Perhaps it can be roused in the same way. More forces to be marshalled against the angels, and to protect Hadad? We should check and see." Norris queries quietly.
Hadad blinks to Mikal, then blushes hotly when he realizes he hasn't yet. "Thank you," he says quietly to the mortals. "All of you. I can rest here, and... become what I was, and not what the Architect and his people wished me to be." He take sin a breath, then steps towards the high priest. "Honored lugal, thank you, for what you are doing for me here today, and for your faith in meÉ."
Mikal blinks up at Norris, "Her who, please?"
Norris smiles. "Sorry. I thought it would be obvious, but nothing is obvious when dealing with the many turns of the wheel inside us, let alone our divine partners. I mean Inanna."
Mikal stares at Norris for a moment, then smiles uncertainly, "Er... are you joking? There is a gate to her -- me -- here, and my temple lies, naturally, next to the royal abode. The rulers are the highest ranked in the priestly caste as well as the warrior, after all." She waves a hand towards the ancient lugal, "He's likely a brother or cousin to the current ruler. My Enheduanna will be the sister or daughter of that ruler." She shakes her head as she watches Hadad for a moment, then adds more softly, "He really needs to stop apologizing for everything. He is a god -- he needs to start acting like one! That is what his people want and need of him!"
Norris spreads his hands. "Forgive me, but my knowledge of Babylon is scant. Hephaestus barely had any temples of his own, save for the one in Athens that honored both he and the facet of Athena that had dominion over crafts." He looks interested. "Your temple is still tied to the active government of this place, then? Fascinating."
Mikal glances back at Norris, her fists on her hips. "Should be. Why?" She adds grimly, "I don't like that the other temples suddenly shut down, too. That's not natural."
Norris considers. "Maybe they didn't shut down. Maybe something else is going on." He looks out across the city for a moment, wondering if any activity at all is going on. "Maybe this moment, when Hadad returned, separated us from the rest of the city - from the rest of the Dreaming - for a short span. The way happens, sometimes, to us, when we are suddenly elsewhere."
Mikal's eyes narrow as she glances from the top of the ziggurat, where the incense is going to be lighted by the slowly ascending priests and Hadad... to the rest of the city. Her voice is quiet, "I hope you are correct."
Hadad and the lugal confer quietly, until the lugal has a preist who appeared out of nowhere -- like the others -- sound a gong. The procession for Hadad is much smaller than the one Mikal is familiar with -- there should be many preists, instead of the handful here, but it has been a long time. And it is a start. And it will be enough.
Hadad is with the procession, leading them, and with each step he takes up the zigguraut, he changes, bit by bit, from the Canaanite storm-god to the older Babylonian. He ages, too, appearing older, no longer the son of El' Elyon. Each step also brings the wind, and the sky becomes, bit by bit, more overcast.
And as he reaches the higher steps of the ziggurat, both Mikal and Jareth can hear -- faintly -- whispers on the wind. It is not easy to hear them, but a moment's concentration is all it takes to hear what those tiny, distant whispers are saying. Where are you, O glorious one? they both hear. Where are you, the one whom we adore? We await you, in Your house. We await you in stepped towers of stone, the kadeshim bearing the anointing oil, the thiribules burning. We await you, O Queen....
And at that moment, with Hadad atop the Zigguraut, thunder splits the sky, the wind roars through the courtyard and the banners are kicked up into the air, and the rain comes down in sheets from a sky that was clear barely minutes ago.
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