| Logs |
2009 February 01
| When The Bough Breaks |
| Realms |
Retired
| Reality Fault |
General Info
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| Realms: Bough Logs |
Second Movement, Third Verse
The stay at Alexandria is relatively brief. Ataraxos has gathered what foodstuffs he needs that Mikal can't hunt for, and he has once again pointed out the path. The route they take runs along a river valley whose soil grows increasingly darker and more fertile the further along they go, and Ataraxos explains that it will lead right to Thebes.
The journey takes another couple of days, and Ataraxos does navigate them around a few nether-squalls; though they won't harm the mortals, they won't exactly make him comfortable. The detours do not take long at all, though, so they are barely noticed by the group.
The trip is almost over, as they crest the top of a hill and look down into the valley. Buildings of sandstone and pink granite bake in the sun, all brightly colored and embellished. Gold appears to decorate more than a few of the larger and more elaborate buildings. Pillars and obelisks are in great abundance, and boats with curved prows and stems glide across the wide river. It is a bustling city, but open to the meagre breezes which run through the valley. The trees here, too, are unlike any the group has seen before, with broad leaves high up on the trunks and rushes of reeds crowding the banks of the river. In all, it looks quite a bit more exotic than even the Winter Palace.
Mikal looks out into the bustling valley, her eyes wide with wonder. "Ooooh... how strange! Who are we supposed to give the papers to again? Do they live in the city? Do you think they'd be willing to come out to see us instead of our having to go in?"
Ataraxos says, "I believe the Alfar have a liason or consulate here, and I'm afraid it would be in the city."
After they leave the scene of the attempted hold up, Tomas takes Mikal aside. "Please be careful on who you tell about our connection to the Winter Palace. We don't know whose side they are on, or who they might tell. For all we know the tengu are Mordred's best friends from his old home town, or the bandits are now looking for one of Mordred's patrols to sell us out."
Mikal sighs softly... then squares her shoulders. "All right. We said we'd do this."
Norris just smiles a little at Mikal's barrage of questions. He's absently glad it didn't get that much hotter: even he can only take so much heat, in his armor. And he absently realized then, that he hadn't brought any other clothing with him. Well, fortunately he's used to the armor, so he's not that uncomfortable. Still, he should see to that at some point.
Mikal blinks at Tomas... then thinks for a bit. She nods, looking chagrinned, "You're right, Tomas. I'm sorry. I won't do it again."
Norris pat's Mikal's shoulder, now that he's more or less at the same height as her, what with horses. "T'll be aright, MIkal. Y'll see."
Mikal nods a bit grimly as she stares out over the city. She'd been rather pleased with the warmer weather, and is in a light sleeveless shift and breeches currently. Thinking about heading into the city, though, makes her turn around abruptly and start rootling through her backpack for her hooded cloak. She can duck into that, at least.
Approaching the city is simple enough, and the city seems much more spread out as they get closer. The streets are broad, and besides many of the houses have large open-air portions. Many of the pillars of residences have wide curtains of billowing muslin draped between them to add color and somewhat control the flow of air into and out of the homes. The people are most definitely not like what the group is used to; though human in appearance, they are not mortals, and both their jewelry -- gold and brass and with bright primary colors -- and their clothing -- almost universally a nigh-shameless translucent muslin -- and even the kohl and other colors used as cosmetics are so very different than what the sleepy town of Staunton had exposure to.
There are no thronging crowds, though every is apparently busy in some manner, mostly agriculture and architecture. There are a great many statues, especially of cats. One in particular is noteworthy, a large statue of a cat laying down on it's belly but with head perked up alertly, except it's odd in that the head is that of a man. The oddest thought runs through the mortals: For some reason, they get the impression that there should be no nose on that man-headed cat statue.
Mikal stares around her with her mouth agape, utterly astonished!
Norris is looking at the architecture and statuary. Trying very hard to, at least. Although he can be as admiring of a pleasing symmetrical shape as the next man, he is thoroughly unprepared for the outlandish garb worn by the natives. He knows his face is flaming, but does nothing to attract attention to it...or the fact that he keeps looking sidelong at some of the more attractive women passing by.
Jareth walks though the streets and manages, just barely, not to gape. He is, after all, an appreciator of the female form and he's never seen it quite so openly displayed before. Only the fact that he's keeping a hand on Iron Antlers most of the time keeps him from simply wandering aimlessly.
Mikal gets a funny, slightly uncomfortable look on her face after a while, as they continue riding through the city after Ataraxos' lead. She has the oddest feeling... and it's not just the sphinx that should be noseless that's bothering her. There are a number of things that seem sort of... wrong to her! For that matter, how did she know the man-cat is called a sphynx? She frowns, noticing a number of the icons where she feels like there should be some sort of disk or sun symbol there. But in every case, the disk has been lost -- cracked or broken off, or cleared away entirely, or erased from paintings. In some of them she can still see where the disk should have been mounted, in fact! She frowns, pausing in front of a humanoid statue with space between its curving horns, and murmurs softly, "Guys? Is it just me or... shouldn't there be a disc up there, between the horns?"
Tomas looks where Mikal points and shrugs. "I don't think I've ever seen anything like that."
Jareth pauses and drags his attention where Mikal is pointing, tipping his head to the side and squinting a little bit, digging through the stories in his head.
Norris uhs? "Whut?" There's a delayed reaction as he takes a moment to reprocess what Mikal said, and then squints in the sun at what Mikal points out.
Norris looks at his friend uncertainly. "Mebbe? Ah donno...get a gen'ral sense in mah gut y' might be right but...what's th' sun s'posed t' mean, yew thin, that it's not there anymore?"
It's not terribly noticable, but Mikal points out in particular what looks to be a symbol over an archway. Much like the medallion that Jareth saw at Captain Wilmarth's booth at the Snowcrest bazzarr, there is a scarab with broad wings... and then there's a blank space, and then there's a pair of horns, as if there should be something disk-shaped in that space, but it's been removed or broken or erased.
Mikal blinks confusedly at Norris... then her eyes widen, "Ohhh... so if it was taken down, that might be because of something bad?" She frowns a bit nervously, "M-maybe... maybe w-we shouldn't ask..."
Tomas says, "Asking about it might draw attention to us, which I don't think we want to do. Again it might just be local politics."
Ataraxos mms? and looks where everyone's looking. "Oh, yes. There used to be a solar disk there. The people of Thebes removed that from their symbols after the Godswar. Apparently it is a symbol of a god they believe to be the Architect.
Norris grimaces. "oh. That...splains a lot, yeah."
Mikal nods worrriedly at Tomas -- then blinks at Ataraxos, "Th-the sun?! How can -- I mean, well... er... um, y'know, never mind..." She nervously pulls the hood of her cloak up, hunching her shoulders a bit as she adds softly, "A-are we there yet?"
Tomas looks at Norris. "What does it explain? Who was the Architect? Did they stop believing in him?"
Jareth says slowly, "The Captain. Wilmarch... she had a necklace that had a beetle. And there were horns and there definitely was a disc on it."
Norris clears his throat. "It wuz before yew arrived, Tomas. One of the folk we met explained a few things whut happened before th' wasps came."
Tomas says, "Oh."
Norris says, "There wuz a god what was worshipped in many places inside th' Mirror...well, not a god, zactly. One of the aelfar, r' the non-mortal folk like them."
Tomas says, "This was the Architect?"
Norris says, "Yeah. He wuz powerful. An'...he wuz making trouble. Wantin' all mortal folk t' worship him. So others... tried t' stop him. Lead to a war...Godswar, like A'traxos say. Only thing is...th' war left a lotta folk weakened...an that's when th' wasps moved in."
Ataraxos says, "It is admittedly a confusing story, in part because there are not many, if any, recorded histories from before the Godswar. Only myths and less-than-myths.
Jareth shakes his head a little and says, "Stories, they're strange. They don't stay hidden. Someone always knows the story."
Tomas shrugs. It doesn't seem to matter much to their current goals, so he dismisses it from his mind.
Norris grimaces. "Somone knows *A* story, Jareth. Doan mean it's aright. But there c'd be truth innere. Thing is...not sure it matter much now."
Jareth shakes his head, brows drawing together, "No. Someone always knows the real story."
Tomas turns to Ataraxos. "Where do we go from here?"
Ataraxos continues, "Come, I'll take you to the consulate. And then we'll see if we can get some tamatim mashwiya./I> It's really very good."
Norris blinks. "How kin yew be so sure? The folks what knew might aredy been dead."
Jareth shrugs to Norris and grins to Ataraxos, "Ahh. Another new thing!" Turning back to Norris, he says, "The words might be different, but the true story is out there. YOu just have to know how and where to look."
Norris looks doubtful at his friend's simple faith, but doesn't argue.
The consulate is on the other side of the city, through a number of broad boulevards. The streets bustle a little bit but there is more than enough room for the stag and the horses. SHortly, then, they come to a low building that has a number of very out-of-place runes carved into an obelisk beside the door. The runes match those the group has seen at the Winter Palace.
Tomas checks around to make sure no one is paying us any attention before we go in.
Mikal glances at the runes as she's slipping off Iron Antlers' back and following the others into the consulate -- then she goes still in shock, staring at the runes wide-eyed!
Mikal says, "G-g-g-guys? Uh... a-am I th-the only one who can ac-c-c-chuly read these?!"
Jareth turns to examine the runes, tilting his head to the side and examining them to see if anything about them looks familiar.
Tomas looks at the runes. He steps back and tilts his head, first to the left and then to the right. "Well, I can't make heads or tails out of it. It looks familiar, though. What do you think they say."
Mikal says, "Uhhh... Alfar house welcome and be at home?"
Norris huhwhuts? "Yew kin read sommat? Cool!" He doesn't seem bothered by this: it's just one of the many ways in which Mikal is awesome.
Mikal blinks at Norris, her voice uncertain, "Uhhh... I g-guess so...?!"
Norris smiles! "Now that yew kin read, we kin go back t' th' library in Alexandria, an yew kin tell us stories."
Mikal's eyes widen even more, "Oooooh... you're right, Norr!" She brightens, throwing her arms happily around her larger companion, "How exciting!"
Norris beams. Happy is better than scared. So he quite contentedly scoops Mikal into his arms and turns around in place with her in a bobbing sorta of dance. "Yes, tis. Leastways, it's nicer t' think about it that way, yeah?"
Mikal laughs delightedly, eyes shining -- she loves hearing the stories Jareth tells. The prospect of being able to read them to her friends as well is wonderful!
Jareth clears his throat and says, "You know... if you could show me. Reading, that is..."
Mikal beams at Jareth, then bounces happily over to the runes, "Uh-huh! Look, Jarr -- see? This is alfar, and this means hall or steading or house, and this is a welcoming symbol, and this symbolizes joining a family line or house! See?"
Norris starts dragging Mikal around on a sort of zig zag rampage, asking her what some different bunches of runes say, and marvelling at the answer, even it's something as simple as 'Pull to Open'. A lot of people look at them oddly.
Mikal giggles happily, and translates those she can for him. She's quite exuberant -- this is exciting for her!
Tomas looks askance at his companions. "We are trying to avoid attracting attention, aren't we?"
Norris ponders. "Are we?"
Mikal nods thoughtfully to Tomas, "Good point!" From that point on she translates for Norris with her voice lowered... although she does tend to occasionally bounce excitedly on her toes as she does so.
Norris looks at Mikal. "Check an see if there's wanted posters tellin folks to look out for a pretty girl what loves animals an can suddenly read, hey?"
Mikal laughs and cheerfully looks around for any such signs. It doesn't quite register what Norris is telling her -- she's not entirely familiar with all the concepts he just mentioned, after all.
Mikal happily replies to Norris, "Nope! Don't see any. So, should we all go in now?"
Tomas says, "Is this where we are supposed to go, Ataraxos?"
Ataraxos nods, "This is the place! The Alfar consulate."
Tomas looks at the others. "Let's go in before everybody and their dog is watching us."
Norris looks dissapointed. "Aright."
Mikal laughs again, holding the door open for Raphael, "All right!" She almost skips into the consulate, looking around excitedly.
Jareth chuckles and says, "I don't think we fit in, anyway. Tomas. We're wearing the wrong clothes by far."
Tomas says, "I don't want to fit in, but we can try to attract as little attention as possible."
Jareth gets distracted again as he mentions the clothes.
Inside, it is cool, dark, and not nearly as humid. The stonework is all very bright colors and the windows all have dark curtains, letting in very little direct light while still permitting a breeze to waft through the corridors. It is a single room, with a stairway leading down to presumably more secure rooms, but up here there is just a few desks.
A dokkalfar is standing near the doorway, looking over a scroll; he is dressed in the local manner, which leaves little to modestly for the black-skinned dokkalfar. But he doesn't seem to mind, as the group enters and he looks up with a patient smile. "Welcome," he says. "What can I do for you?"
Mikal beams and waves shyly from behind Raphael, then glances at her friends.
Jareth steps forward, smiling at the dokkalfar, "We've been sent with some information for the consul. From the Palace."
The dokkalfar ahs, and nods, "Just a moment while I get hold of her." He steps towards the staircase, heading downstairs.
Tomas says, "You may want to get the scroll out of your backpack, Mikal."
Mikal nods to Tomas and hastily shrugs out of her backpack, resting it on Raphael's back as she paws through it. She beams, "Aha!" as she produces a small handful of scrolls, all neatly tied together with a ribbon and sealed with wax. "Here we go!" Raphael gives her an amusedly long-suffering glance.
Jareth chuckles and moves to takes the scrolls from Mikal if she wants to hand them over, "I'll give them to the consul if you want, so you don't have to talk if you don't want.
Mikal looks suddenly worried, and hastily hands the scrolls to Jareth, nodding, "Umm... y-yeah."
Another dokkalfar -- this time female -- comes up the stairs, followed by the the male. "Ah, you must be the couriers from the Palace," she says, easily but rapidly. "Thank you for making the trip out here. Our friends in the city court were getting a little anxious. What news might you have about Mordred?"
Mikal sidles surreptitiously behind her larger companions.
Tomas says, "Nothing that isn't in the scrolls. He hadn't attacked before we left."
Jareth hands over the papers, bowing to the dokkalfar consul and moving to take her hand. If she lets him, he'll kiss her hand, "Mordred's army seems to have retreated, but it's an uneasy time wondering what he's doing."
This seems to make the dokkalfar arch a brow, unable to keep a touch of purple from coloring her cheeks. "Ah... I mean, I see. Yes, I can imagine it is. Well, hopefully these documents will let us convince our friends in Thebes to provide some assistance.
Tomas says, "His first attempt to take the palace by trickery was foiled, so it looks like he will have to resort to a coup de main, unless he plans to settle in to a siege."
Jareth grins warmly at the consul and says, "It would be a blessing if it does, lady. Most definitely. Do you have news to send back to the palace perhaps? Or other errands that might need doing?" He arches a brow in return. He's at least not gauche enough to be openly staring.
Mikal is staring open-mouthed at the consul, peering out from behind Norris's reassuringly sturdy and large bulk. She's never seen so little clothing on someone, up close! She wonders a bit bemusedly if she could re-create those clothes... then more pragmatically, if they'd stand up to use.
Norris is content to be quiet and act as Mikal's shield for the moment...Tomas and Jareth are doing a fine job of representing the group. Or flirting with the clerk. Whichever.
She nods to Tomas. "That's good, at least. The gatehouse has not yet fallen to an outside foe." She considers for a moment. "If you may wait a day or two I am sure there will be news that could stand to be taken back to the Palace by you."
The male, the consul's assistant, clears his throat a little. "The Jericho issue, madam?"
She glances at him then nods. "Ah, yes. I do not know if you know of the town of Jericho. It is a few days from here, at the base of Mount Zion. During the Godswar it became a... haven, a refuge, for mortals in the Dreamtime. We were discussing last Dawn that it would be good to see if Mordred has been recruiting there. Does this sound like something you might be interested in?
Jareth's brows go up. That certainly sounds interesting. It also sounds like it might be important. Dangerous. Exciting, perhaps. He says, "It may be, but we would have to have time to consult together in private."
Mikal scowls worriedly at the thought of yet more poor mortals being tricked by Mordred. That distracts her, for the moment, from clothing experiments -- she'll have to go someplace private, later, to try that out.
Norris's brow knits. Jericho. Another of those names that sound weirdly familar. "Why that place in particular, hey? Ah mean...fer the refugin, annat?"
Tomas says, "Far from the trouble? Big walls? If they haven't come tumbling down."
Mikal blinks confusedly at Tomas... then grins, wondering if he's remembered how to read too.
Norris clearly doesn't get it. "Okee."
The consul nods. "Of course. I wouldn't as you do to anything without you having the chance to consult together. Oh... forgive my manners, I was so eager to get the papers from you! My name is Swanlinde. My assistant here is Tyrr.
Jareth nods and introduces his companions, including Raphael as if it is completely normal to be including a quadruped.
Tomas says, "What do we do if we find he has been recruiting in Jericho? Come back and tell you? Burn town to the ground? "
Mikal gives a small, dismayed squeak, "Tomas! No!"
Norris huhs. "Swanlinde. Pretty name." he murmurs more to himself, ignoring the fact that the image that somes to mind - of a graceful white bird - is something he never saw in Stanton.
Norris blinks at Tomas. "Hey now. No need fer random burnin, annat."
Tomas looks at Mikal. "Why not? These people are trying to destroy everyone I know and care about. I don't have any reason to spare them."
The consul blinks, then decides that Tomas is joking; she smiles quietly. "No, coming back and telling us would be best. If that's the case, that Mordred is actively recruiting there, then we can hopefully convince the Theban army to help secure Jericho against his activities. It's symbolic, too -- Jericho is one of the oldest commnunities in the Dreamtime."
Mikal blinks at Tomas... then carefully sidles back so Norris is between her and Tomas as well. Her voice is tiny, "You sound like the surreal captain of Mordred's army, Tomas."
Jareth's lips purse slightly and he says to Tomas, "Can't save someone you've roasted."
Tomas says, "Why would I want to save them? They are the enemy."
Jareth feels his temper flare slightly, but says, "They're mortal, Tomas. They're just as prone to stupidity as any of us." He takes a deep breath and then says to the consul, "We'll... talk... and then we'll come back with an answer."
Mikal peers warily out at Tomas, adding softly to Jareth's comment, "If I convert my enemy to my friend, we're both stronger."
The consul glances between the group. At Jareth's comment, she nods, "Certainly. Please feel free to make use of the consulate's facilities. One of us will be here."
Norris's brow knits. "Recruit'n also aint th' same as bein on th' same side. Once they's soldiers...well, that's one thin. But shouldn't be just burnin folk what'r scared an easy t' trick."
Jareth puts his smile back on and says, "Can you point us to somewhere we may be able to refresh ourselves?"
Swanlinde nods, "Of course. There's a small hostel down the street which we've vetted and cleared. Tell them that I will cover your stay while you decide, we have an arrangement with them." She gives directions to the hostel.
Mikal slips out hastily, heading for where the fey-stag grazes calmly. She gives him a nervous hug around the neck.
Norris gestures. "Lets be on our ways, then. No need t' be arguin in fronta folks. Thankee, miss."
Jareth nods, smiling, "Our thanks for the hospitality, Swanlinde. We will see you soon, we hope."
The hostel is comfortable -- warm, of course, but the interior is dark and cool. The upper floors are open to the beeze, with muslin curtains. There are a number of beds in curtained-off areas, and a commons area with a large table; a number of shelled fruits -- dates and the like -- are there, as well as fresh platters of a kind of spiced rice. Also, as the group notices, cats are given completely free reign; there are at least two or three in the hostel room where the group meets, none of which look like they're about to give up their perches or sunbeams. They aren't eating food on the table, though; the hostel owners have kept food out for them.
Norris hmms at the random cats around. "Raph...yew behave yerself, hey? We's guests...an they...wall...live here, ah guess." he comments to the wolf.
Jareth is unaccustomedly solemn as they make their way to the hostel and get settled in.
Mikal leads the horses around back with the big fey-stag, looking to see if there's a barn. She lets her friends know she'll be back in a bit.
Tomas orders a whiskey and settles himself at a table.
The cats' hair stands a bit on end as they look at the raptor-wolf, but there is no way in the name of Bast that they're going to let themselves be chased off. They were here first.
The barn attached to the hostel is more than happy to take care of the mounts, particularly the stag, the likes of which they don't often see this far out. They ask Mikal a few questions as to what special arrangements should be made for the stag.
Norris sits and drinks only fruit juice as he waits for his friends, carefully watching the standoff between Raph and cats.
Mikal keeps one hand on Iron Antlers' reassuringly steady shoulder as she shyly answers. Once that's taken care of she nearly scampers off, heading for the safety of her pack again! She's distracted by the many cats, pausing to crouch down to pet some of them, crooning happily to them. When she finally walks in, she's got a small, tail-waving herd of kitties trotting along with her -- one she keeps pausing and scritching, which slows her way down.
Norris rubs his forehead. Mikal has taken to the cats. Which he doesn't mind, but he's now worried that Raph will take offense. Stags and foxes are one thing...cats are another.
Jareth just grins affectionately at Mikal's new companions. He has an image of her surounded by small woodland animals all looking at her in rapturous adoration.
Mikal cheerfully clambers up onto the bench next to Norris, "What're you drinking, Norr?"
Norris passes it over. "Sommat diffrent. They call it 'pineapple' juice."
Mikal's cat-harem has increased the number of cats in the room to seven. They now outnumber the mortals in the room, which seems to put them at ease. She scritches several kitties that bunt their heads demandingly against her, purring up a storm, and reaches for the drink with the other hand. She nearly snorts it out in startlement, coughing, then stares in astonishment at it, "The juice of the apple of a pine tree?! Sure tastes funny!" She licks her lips thoughtfully, murmuring, "Sweet, though..." and cautiousy tries another sip.
Norris folds his hands. "Ah think goin t' Jericho's not a bad idee. Iffn we find out whut Mordred's doin t' bring mortals t' his side, then we's might be able t' find a way t' cause...uh...dissen...dissen...we's might make folks unhappy, mebbe change sides, yeah?"
Mikal nodnods emphatically at Norris's words, peering over the edge of the large juice mug.
Jareth nods to Norris, leaning back on his elbows, "I agree. I just..." He shakes his head and looks at Tomas, "I'm sorry, Tomas, but their worlds are being eaten, too. They mightn't be bad so much as desperate. So we go to Jericho, find out if Mordred is recruiting, come back and tell the consul. Sounds useful."
Norris scratches his chin. "Mebbe we's kin even find out more stuff about that sorceress, r' if Mordred's hidin wasp killin' weapons, annat."
Mikal stares perplexedly at Tomas, "W-why do you keep trying to make people angry, Tomas?"
Tomas says, "If they are desperate, why are they not trying to stop the wasp-things?"
Mikal says, "How would you suggest they do so?"
Jareth says, "Because sometimes anybody stronger than you seems like a good idea if all the horrors are bigger than you, too. Who knows what Mordred promised them?"
Norris nods. "We's *want* t' fight the wasps, Tomas, an we dun know what t' do either. S'not lak it's easy."
Tomas says, "Whatever it takes. I'm no stronger than they are, and I don't know what to do either. But I am trying to find out. If they want to do nothing, they get no sympathy from me, but as long as they stay out of my way, I don't care."
Mikal leans away from Tomas, and says softly, "If you're going to go mad and start damaging people for no reason, I for one don't want to travel with you, Tomas."
Tomas says, "I'm not going mad. When I go mad, you will know it."
Mikal looks entirely unconvinced, but says nothing. She'll have another sip of the strange drink, then push it back to Norris, "Thank you, Norr. That was weirdly tasty."
Norris clears his throat. "Well, long as we's just goin t' find out infermation, no reason t' get int' any fights, annat. So, that's what we's do."
Mikal slides off the bench, looking a little uncomfortable, "Well! Um... right. So, me and Raph will go tell the consul -- see you all later!" She trots hastily out of the room.
Tomas orders another whiskey.
Jareth calls after Mikal and follows her.
Mikal slows slightly, glancing over her shoulder at Jareth. Raphael trots easily past as well.
The three go to the consul and let her know that they'll be undertaking the mission. Swanlinde seems pleased and appreciative, and confirms that she'll be glad to pay them for their services. In addition she seems flattered and receptive to Jareth's flirting, though as a diplomat she isn't easily charmed into intimacy; she does enjoy it, however, returning like for like. Ataraxos, when they return, agrees to show the group to Jericho, though he does seem a bit cautious about the trip.
Mikal curiously asks, "What's wrong with Jericho, Ataraxos?"
Back at the hotel, Tomas falls asleep in his chair.
Norris huhs. "Mebbe it's not Jericho what's wrong. Mebbe he's jus' worried about bein a satyr goin t' Jericho?"
Ataraxos shakes his head. "No, Norris, that's not it. Jericho is.... Well, how can I put this.
"Jericho is old. So very old. It is more than just one of the earliest communities in the Dreamtime. It's the longest continually-inhabited city. It dates back to... to long before the Godswar. People have lived there since before they can remember. It is obviously not inherently dangerous, else it would not have been a sanctuary for mortals. But there is history in it's stones, long and ancient and unforgetting. That sort of place doesn't forget easily.
"I'm sorry, perhaps I'm just getting the legendary nature of the city get to me. As I said, Jericho has been inhabited for longer than any other place in the Dreamtime that I know of. Going there will be fine."
Mikal looks curiously at the satyr, "So... wasn't the gods' war a long, long time ago, though?"
Jareth can't help a little shine of excitement coming into his eyes. A place as old as that must have some fantastic stories.
"Oh, it was. But the Dreamtime existed long before then. And Jericho was there."
Norris's brow knits. "Mebbe it's safe enuff fer mortals...but not so much for those what aint. But y' dinna worreh, Ataraxos. We keeps ya safe." he assures.
Mikal says, "Um... all right." She's not sure why that's a bad thing, but who knows? She smiles and shrugs, "So... can we go now?"
Ataraxos glances around. "Well... I would like a night to rest in a bed, if I may. Only a few hours? We can leave as soon as Dawn comes?"
Mikal grins shyly, "Oh, um... sorry! Yes, of course."
Norris sighs contentedly. "Bed's good. I like beds." He smiles at Mikal. "We don't all have a soft wolf to snuggle with."
Jareth's lips twitch and he manages not to make a crack about the beds, though he does wonder about possibly finding someone to share his. And he carefully does not look in Mikal's direction as he thinks it.
Mikal beams at Norris, hugging Raphael's side, "He's very cuddly, yes!"
Norris can't help but laugh. "And do he think the same of you, Mikal?" he can't help but ask. Jareth loves to call her 'rabbit', but it doesn't come naturally to him.
Mikal blinks, thinking about that -- then grins at Raphael, "I don't know! Am I cuddly too, Raph?"
Raph gives a big yawn. Of course Mikal's cuddly. She scritches him. That makes her cuddly.
Mikal beams proudly at Raphael, then hugs him again! She cheerfully scritches him under the chin as she happily says, "He says yes, I am, because I give him scritchies!"
Norris waves a hand. "Well, thereyago. So, bedwards, to softness of various sorts."
Mikal laughs again, and cheerfully hugs Norris, "Sleep well then!" She grins, "You too, Ataraxos! We'll head off to Jericho tomorrow, all right?"
Norris smiles with satisfaction. "Spect a will."
Ataraxos nods, smiling quietly. "Thank you. Yes, I'll be all set to go on the morn."
Mikal thinks a bit, then heads out to the barn. She can make sure all the horses and her handsome stag are all cleaned up, fed, spoiled a little, and quite comfortable. She grins to herself, mentally adding that she can cuddle some kitties too, with Raphael!
The goatherd/bard grins over at the satyr and says, "You tired enough to sleep, or would you have it in you to talk and tell a couple of tales before sleep?" As he thinks about it and about the name Jericho, Jareth finds himself humming a song occasionally, a word or three along with it, "And the walls... come tumbling down... the walls..."
Norris strips out of his armor this time around...the padding qualifies enough as underclothes, he supposes. He eases onto his back, looking forward to resting on soft bedding. Eventually, however, he's interrupted by an enterprizing cat. She sniffs at him a bit, and then climbs on top of this odd giant two-legger. The novelty wears off, but the cat does decide that on top of a Norris is a fine place to sleep. The purring is soothing.
Mikal will curl up, many hours later, in the warm curve of her fey-stag's body. With Iron Antlers on one side and Raphael on the other, she feels safe and warm. The barn cats eventually creep in and settle on the nice warm stag as well.
Ataraxos smiles to Jareth, and in the quiet hostel, as night falls and firelight flickers throughout Thebes and the temperature drops, he tells the young goatherd/bard some of the stories of ancient, hoary Jericho, of the legendary beginnings of it, to the fabled walls which once stood around it, to whatever role it is rumored it played in the Godswar.
Jareth soaks up the stories and does his very, very best to make sure the satyr is able to get some rest. He also resigns himself to sleeping alone, even though it's not a happy prospect after all the lovely rather nicely displayed females he's seen today. He comforts himself with the new stories and slides off to sleep.
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