| Logs |
2011 January 09
| When The Bough Breaks |
| Realms |
Retired
| Reality Fault |
General Info
 |
| Realms: Bough Logs |
Seventh Movement, Fourth Verse
The harsh, dark winter weather surrounding what had once been Neuschwabenland is not as wickedly cold as it was before, but it is still cold, and the wind brings with it a chill kiss. Azrael remains within the circle of salt. In answer to Inanna's question, he shakes his head. "It is not so simple. He has the authority of the Architect. He may not have created me, but he speaks with the authority of the one who created me.
Inanna is silent for a long moment, thinking. Finally she muses, "Does the Metatron actually speak with the authority of the Architect... if it has potentially imprisoned and assumed the Architect's power and position?"
Azrael says, "He has always spoken with that authority." He sighs and grigs the sides of his head. "You are asking me to go against every instinct I have, every fiber of my being. To betray the right hand of the Architect...."
Hephaestus listens to them both, to the answer the Throne gives. He wonders about how much agency, how much free will angels have...although it's true, more than one has all but defected to their side. Made a choice, to give the lost gods succor. But this is Azrael, and he is not like the others. Too, too invested in the one that gave him purpose and life.
Norris juts his chin at the despondent Throne. "And what if you yourself were betrayed, Azrael? What if the Architect was betrayed by the Metatron? What then?"
Azrael looks away. "What if he was not? No... no, you are right. There is a simple way of finding out the truth. I will ask the other high-ranking angels to demand for us an audience with the Architect." He does not seem comfortable with the prospect, however.
Inanna sighs, then smiles a small smile as she shrugs and murmurs coolly, "Azrael Throne of the Architect and Metatron's Dupe, you have agreed to leave Raven Throne of Death alone. If you were questioned by the Metatron concerning where you'd been today, what would you tell him?"
Azrael says, "If I am questioned... you have used my True Name. I cannot answer that question.
Inanna's cool smile doesn't waver, "I would say you can, actually. I would say you will answer that question only to the Architect himself... and that would give you a smooth introduction into demanding an audience with him, don't you think?"
Hephaestus looks at Innana ruefully. "I never thought I'd wish angels could lie." He looks askance at Raph. "I don't suppose you could teach him?"
The raptorwolf is sitting next to Inanna, watching silently. At Hephaestus' question Raphael doesn't look over at the young man -- but he does apparently suddenly have a terrible itch he must scratch with one hind foot! It clearly requires all his concentration, and his other hind leg thumps slightly as he scratches with great vigor and enthusiasm.
Azrael considers Inanna's words, carefully. "I see... that... that could work well. Yes. Yes, that is how I will answer it!"
The blonde-bearded smith god just rolls his eyes good-naturedly, and is glad that Inanna has things well in hand. He wouldn't have thought of that tactic. "And how will you inform us of what you discover, please?"
Inanna's expression is, for a fraction of an instant, quietly relieved -- then she beams at the angel, "Excellent! I'm so glad we could help! So, you have agreed not to harm us, nor to hunt Raven, and we've agreed we have common cause. Is there anything you have questions about?" She does not mention her relief that they will not have to either permanently incarcerate or kill the foolishly dutiful angel.
Azrael takes in a slow breath. "I swear on my True Name to not harm you, nor to hunt Raven anymore. I... I would like to ask...' He pauses. "Will you assume your full deific natures? Or remain demigods?
"Or should I not ask?"
Inanna sighs and smiles ruefully again, "You may certainly ask, child... but I cannot answer truthfully past 'We do not yet know.'"
Azrael nods. "It is well.
Norris does not quite struggle with the question...he has exchanged much with the smith god's soul in him, and found that the two of them are not so dissimilar...not now that Norris is coming into is own, especially. Perhaps it was because he was mortal for so long hismelf, before ever becoming a god. But he feels no need to share this with Azrael...his pack, perhaps, but not in front of this one.
Azrael lets out a breath. "What is to be done now?
Inanna rises to her feet once more, her personal aura flaring about her again. Her wings shimmer and snap open behind her as she steps forward, deliberately crossing the line of salt. Her eyes are the wind-tossed gray of the gathering thunderstorm, and she raises a hand to gently touch Azrael's cheek, intoning, "Lilith is not currently here, but she would offer you blessings and consolation, Azrael Architect's Throne. Know she wishes you well, and her heart aches for a time when she is reunited with her long-lost beloved."
Azrael closes his eyes, bowing his head. "Thank you, all you," he says quietly.
The goddess gestures, and a small puff of wind gently parts the line of salt, "Go in peace, angel. May our next meeting be in better circumstances."
Norris just folds his arms and nods quietly. It would seem their work is done here, and he is eager to be away.
Azrael nods, and takes in a breath. THen he is gone, disappearing in a brief column of white flame. The flame has barely died down when a snow=white bird is fluttering down from the dark sky, alighting on the ground and in the same motion becoming Raven.
Inanna smiles and nods politely to the bird-woman; her voice is only a little teasingly wry, "I would have expected a black bird, actually. How are you, Raven Throne of Death?" She starts neatly sweeping up the salt, since it's far too rare to waste.
Hephaestus was about to relax...and then Raven shows, and he straightens. Being the only one of the group that had not yet met the lady. Indeed, he understands it is she, that it could be no one else. Particularly since he remembers seeing her, a lifetime ago, back on their first mission.
Raven smiled quietly, inclining her head. "I am well, Inanna, Queen of Heaven; and greetings to you, Hephaestus, Smith of Olympus, and Loki, Lord of Fire." She spreads her hands to indicate the circle where Azrael had been held. "Thank you... for this."
The goddess straightens, the salt carefully replaced in the small pouch, and chuckles quietly, "It is Lilith herself -- or rather, Jareth, the young man she is melded with -- whom you should really thank, I think. He was quite taken with your kindness. Still, we are happy to pass on your thanks to him, and we are glad we could help."
Hephaestus folds his arms behind his back, inclining his head appreciatively at her greetings. "We are glad, at least, that you are well, and now freed from the tiresome chore of staying ahead of pursuing angels. Maybe this will start putting things back into balance."
Raven's smile widens a little. "I will, as soon as I can. Now that I can operate freely, I need not hide, and I may find him when he is here and thank him." She nods to Hephaestus. "Yes. Things will return to balance as far as the transmigration of souls goes.
Inanna murmurs quietly, "Excellent. Next step: Jericho."
Hephaestus shrinks, then, his beard shrinking back into his face, as he becomes 'merely' Norris again. "Good luck to you, Throne of Death. For ourselves, we have another long journey ahead of us." he offers.
Raven nods. "So I am given to understand. Things are moving quickly. You should know that the Archi-- that the forces of Mount Zion are moving out into the rest of the Dreamtime, attempting to hold by force what mere fear of the Architect and Metatron could not."
Norris purses his lips, and looks at the Queen of Heaven. "That's certainly no good, but nothin' we can do about that in the short term, that others would not be able to do better."
Inanna raises a thoughtful eyebrow as she moves to mount up on Iron Antlers again, carefully unwrapping and freeing the little gryphkits now the danger is over, "Indeed? Interesting. I would guess there will be some consternation and confusion when Azrael returns... which will be to our benefit, I do not doubt."
Raven nods, then ducks her head in a bow. "We will meet again, before the end. I must go now to attend to the dead and the dying, but I will return, at the very least to speak with Jareth-Lilith." With that, she becomes again the white raven, and flitters off into he darkness.
Inanna waves to the raven, then grins as the gryphkits come boiling excitedly out of the saddlebag. She croons to Lazuli as the kit swings excitedly from one of the fey stag's antlers, squeaking happily at her, and laughs at their antics. To Raphael, who is cheerfully tossing his head to give Jareth's kit a bouncy ride, she adds, "Your turn now, elder brother, aye?"
The trip back to Yggdrasil takes several days, as expected. And it is only a little easier returning than it was departing. But in time they see the titanic branches of the Worlds-Ash rising high into the sky, and it is two days after that they reach the winding root that reached out into the Wyld. Half a day later they have rounded the ash, and have come again upon the small, crude shrines to the departed gods.
Mikal is back to being her smaller, meeker self, so when they reach the small shrines she waits until no one is there to dismount and approach. She stands with an arm about the raptorwolf's shoulders as they study the shrines for a long moment... then the small woman glances to Raphael, "I want to do some reverence here, big brother. Is there anything in particular you'd like to see?"
Raphael is more and more thoughtful as they approach Yggdrasil, and he replies to Mikal that he would like -- no, he needs to see Asgard. He needs to see what remains of it after what could possibly have been Ragnarok, or if not the Norse end of the gods, then whatever transpired there. He looks up at the tree. It's going to be a heck of a climb, though...
Mikal smiles at her big foster-brother, "No, it won't. I can fly us up there." She's silent for a moment, thinking, then adds slowly, "Plus... it is the nature of your pantheon to cycle, I seem to remember. They'll be back... even if in slightly different forms."
Norris doesn't seem to mind the idea of a climb! Hephaestus, maybe, would not have fun...but Norris relishes the idea of climbing a tree that could actually support his weight. Mostly, he was just all about climbing cliffs and such. "Do you think it's wise to change form though, Rabbit? I mean, where everyone can see?"
Mikal glances over at Norris, then around them, "Good point, Bear. Hmm... well, we could move around to the less well-traveled side first?"
Norris indicates Raph. "I bet he knows the best way to go, or at least, a covert spot for you to change. Myself, I'm eager to see what climbing the Tree of Life is like. I bet that's an experience."
Mikal smiles ruefully, "I'd like to take the time to climb it too... but we still have work to do. If we take too long, what will the angels accomplish, at least as far as holding terrain due to terror?"
Norris hmms. "Good point. SHouldn't be selfish." He looks at Raph, curious what he thinks...though sadly, only Mikal will be able to hear it."
Raphael is comfortable either way -- thought 'comfortable' isn't the right word. He knows he owes it to his blood-brother and lover, no matter how cruel Odinn was, and to the Aesir and Vanir who took him in albeit reluctantly. He's just dreading what will be found there and his natural inclination is to avoid it altogether.
Mikal quietly relays that to Norris, then nods to the raptor-wolf, "All right, we'll take a quick flight up there, then. First let's take a bit of time to clean up the shrines, pay due reverence, and make sure Iron Antlers and the horses are someplace safe."
She puts her words into action: she scouts around for a nice little grassy vale someplace close, with a small stream running through it, and leaves Iron Antlers and the ponies comfortably ensconced there. Then she takes some water and prayerfully cleans the shrines with Norris' help, if he wishes. While they do that, Raphael goes hunting, returning with a plump rabbit in his jaws.
Norris helps care for the mounts, then, and also makes sure his armor is secured...it's unlikely they'd need it up there, and it would only add unnecessary weight to the trip. He eagerly joins Mikal in tending the shrines as well, taking pleasure in simple acts of respect.
Mikal thanks Raphael for the sacrifice, carefully and respectfully sprinkling the blood over shrine and the three of them in the manner Raphael directs her to. Once that's done she, Raphael, and Norris sit and share a flask of ale together, singing their adventures so far as they reminisce together. Mikal and Raphael (with Mikal's help in the speaking parts) swear an oath to the Wyrd to do their best to continue setting things a-right here, for both Pack and Universe. Mikal blinks a bit owlishly at Norris -- the ale is affecting her a bit -- and asks: would he like to swear too?
The pilgrims who made their way to the shrines are a moderately diverse bunch. Some are from earlier ages, when the Church was just starting to edge out the Old Norske faith. Some are modern pagans or Astaru. Some are of other denominations. But most seem a little surprised at the lithe girl and the burly young man who go from shrine to shrine carefully cleaning the them. By the time the light fades and it is evening, the two score shrines are all somewhat cleaner and in better condition.
Norris takes a moment to ask first about the Wyrd, as there is no synonymous concept in his world. He wonders, then, if Frigg had seen this downfall, and how she could have faced it, knowing her death would come. But then, death comes to all, and he's sure they met it bravely. So he answers that he is more than happy to do so, though he views it more as a symbol of unity with his family. Glad, he supposes, that he himself cannot see his own fate.
The little Pack sits together as it grows darker -- or as dark as it gets here -- and finally the flask is empty and the little modified sumbel is completed. Mikal rises to her feet, stretching and yawning, then lays the empty flask at the altar's foot. She smiles at her friends, spreading her arms, "It is quiet now, and we are alone. Shall we fly?"
Norris looks curious. "Are you strong enough to fly us both?
Mikal takes a deep breath... then her eyes flash as her perfect lips curve in a smile at the burly young man. "I am a goddess!"
Norris flushes. "I'm just saying!" he replies, holding up his hands. Hephaestus is a god, but even he has twisted legs, meaning there are some things Norris does better.
Mikal laughs softly, her hair flaring out behind her on an errant breeze, and wings unfold from her slender body. She offers a hand to Norris and wraps an arm about Raphael, the wind rising as she does so... then, with powerful, heavy wing-beats, she rises into the air.
Norris takes the offered hand confidently, though he does eep a little and tries not to kick as he now stands on empty air. He's just not a flier.
Inanna's flight is smooth and effortless seeming as she rises steadily higher on the powerful winds. She follows Raphael's quietly yodeled directions as she heads up the immense, mountainous tree.
The branches become thick and twining, knotted together into impassable barriers that can nevertheless be flown around. They do become impossible to see through, and so it is with sudden surprise that they reach what looks like a massive plateau of wood, with soil and grass upon it, as if it were a field. The ruins of a massive hall within what was once a wooden wall-fort, now burned to stumps, dominate the center of the plain. At the sight of it, Raph gives a strangled half-yelp.
Inanna murmurs softly, "Remember, buildings can be rebuild, dear brother." She glances around, adding, "Should we land here, Laufeyarson?"
Norris stares in wonder. "COuld this be Fólkvangr, and that Sessrúmnir in the distance?" he murmurs. He took the time to learn of Freyja, if the aftermath of finding the remains of the Lady, the Huntress, and the mighty steed Sleipnir.
Raphael makes a sound of agreement with Mikal, but she can feel his growing anguish as they near the hall of what appears to be Asgard.
Mikal lands, but pauses long enough to hug Raphael tightly before they head towards the building remains. She looks around silently, pain in her expression. If her Pack allows it, she's holding tightly to Norris' hand and has her other hand buried in Raphael's rough mane.
Norris never minds holding Mikal's hand, and squeezes it in understanding. "Would you visit what remains of your family if you could?" he queries, of the proud, sad Queen.
Mikal is silent for a long moment, staring down at the burned wooden shards... then she slowly nods once.
Norris kisses Mikal's forehead. "Then we'll make a point of it." he assures. Regarding the wreckage of the hall solemnly.
Mikal blinks, then hugs Norris tightly, her face pressed against his chest. After a moment she smiles a bit shakily up at him, tears in her eyes, and whispers, "Thank you, big brother."
Norris tsks and wipes the tears away, comforting her as she did him, not that long ago. And he encourages her towards the hall, bravely, to see what remains.
Mikal sighs and smiles again at Norris' kindness. She gives him another quick hug, then heads resolutely to the hall with her Pack. Pacing slowly and carefully through the ruins, she wonders if Raphael knows where to look for any of the ancient treasures. "I wonder what the angels did with the Norse weapons, as their wielders fell?"
Norris's brow knits. "Surely, they wouldn't have taken them as trophies, would they? That seems unangelic."
Mikal murmurs sadly, "No idea, big brother."
The angels did not seem interested in the hall itself, but the fighting did a great deal of damage to it. The main hall is arrayed in the standard Norse fashion, with a V-shaped table at the head of which is a wooden throne. The throne is unmistakable, even though a ragged gouge has been cut in it from the blow of a lance or sword -- most likely a flaming sword, based on the scorched edges of the gouge. The throne has a pair of perches at it's back, and a cracked helmet with a plate of steel covering where one eye would be sits lopsidedly on the seat of the chair.
On the far left of the hall -- on the throne's right -- there are the unmistakable impact craters and large chunks clobbered out of the wall and pillars, from immensely powerful hammer strikes. A broken horn is on the ground near the largest of the craters.
Mikal steps lightly over to the horn, carefully and gently picking it up. "Gjallarhorn?"
Norris huhs, touching the old throne..and then picking up the helm. Bringing it to Raph solemnly.
Raph looks at both artefacts, and whimpers softly in affirmation.
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