Bough -- Logs

Virgil stretches out, and the three notice perhaps for the first time that he has a fine leathern harness crisscrossing his neck and chest. "Climb on," he says comfortably, "and hold on. If you fall off, do not worry, you won't go anywhere, and I'll turn around and pick you up."

Mikal's eyes get huge at the concept of falling off being nothing to worry about -- then she glances out at the nothing, remembering how they'd floated or drifted or something to get here. A little timidly she follows the two boys, murmuring to Raphael, "Maybe we should put you in the center, Raph? Can you hang on with your jaws?"

The raptor-wolf looks a touch dubious, looking at his paws briefly, but is willing to try, even if it means holding on with his jaws.

Norris considers. "Ah should get on last, t' help y'all into your seats, mebbe."

Mikal tends to shy abruptly away and behind someone else when Virgil looks at her, and she's a little tentative about touching him... but once she sees Raphael needs a bit of help, she carefully clambers over to do so. She sits next to Raphael once he settles, putting an arm about him in an attempt to help him stay firmly on the lizard-thing's back.

Myrddin clambers onto Virgil's back as well, and through it all Virgil waits patiently, seemingly without any rush at all.

Jareth clambers up on Virgil's back, looking a little shellshocked. He does, however, make sure to try and stay near Mikal, knowing how skittish the girl is.There's white showing all around his eyes.

Mikal gives Jareth a weak smile -- she's not far from panicking herself currently either.

One people are settled, Virgil glances back over them, then -- very carefully -- unfolds his wings, and starts to lift himself off the spider-wasps's carcass. With two pairs of wings, the motion is remarkably smooth, and very shortly, with just a hint of motion and wind, the Ophid is winging swiftly through the void, away from the sphere that Myrddin called their 'dreamscape,' and defly evading the huge strands of the web.

Mikal gasps, hastily turning her head to bury her face in Raphael's mane. Her hands go white-knuckled, where they're clenched on the leather straps.

Jareth can't turn away. The horrible nightmarish quality is still something new to him and the part of him that can't help but want to learn keeps his eyes open and watching.

Norris, fortunately, has some experience riding...and even though he's never ridden an Ophid, some of the priciples, at least, are the same. he holds on with his legs, and braces Jareth in back. Regardless of Virgil's assurances, falling off is something best to be avoided, if only for the nuisance factor. He is a thoughtful lad.

The spider's web seems virtually endless, though the huge silk threads are far apart enough that Virgil has no problems navigating them. Bit by bit they begin to thin, until the four-winged dragon is clear of them, and the only thing before them is the inky blackness with a scattering of points of light, and of course the endless still grey ocean far below them. Virgil's wings beat a bit stronger now, and if the ripples on the water are any indication he is now going at a terrifying pace, but there is no resitance to their flight whatsoever, and only a kiss of breeze over them.

Mikal slowly relaxes as nothing horrible happens this time, and eventually peers nervously through Raphael's mane, watching their surroundings cautiously.

Mikal looks down puzzledly at the water below, then whispers to Jareth, "Is that... what an ocean looks like?"

Jareth's horror slowly turns to just awe as they emerge into a clear space and what they see around them is like flying over a lake on a still, starry night. He had been wondering the same thing and grins his broad, rogueish grin at her, "I don't know. I've never been more than ten miles from the village! Isn't it beautiful now?" He glances over his shoulder and grins at Norris, "Isn't it? Beautiful and amazing?"

Mikal considers that question, then says cautiously, "Maybe... right now. If n-nothing gets h-h-horrible again!"

It isn't very long at all, then, that far ahead what looks like a horizon might be appearing - a thin glittering line that seems to stretch out to the left and right until it too disappears into the distance. But as they close upon it, they see that it is nothing less than... a wall, a wall stretching forth to eternity. Virgil begins to bank and turn slowly, apparently his intent being to fly parallel to the wall, though it is still approaching, and seemingly taking forever to do so.

The reason why is soon clear. Without anything to reference it to, the wall just grows bigger and bigger and bigger; finally, though, they see where the wall meets the ocean below, and the top of it. And at this range they can see that the wall is simply huge. Without being able to see any surface features, the wall glitters faintly with dark green sparkles, like smooth gypsum. The walls seem to be the size of mountains, titanic and invulnerable. If one were religious, one might think that these, then, would be the walls of Heaven itself behind which the One guided his charges.

Shortly Virgil is streaking at a rapid velocity along the wall, and from here there is the suggestion that the wall curves inward; if it were a circle, it would be impossibly huge to estimate it's size, let alone the size of the ocean that it encloses.

Norris considers. "Donno. Certainly aint nivver seen nothin like it...but just cause it's diffrent, don't make it pretty." he drawls. "Tis pretty sparkly, tho."

Myrddin asks them, "How are you now? Not getting vertigo, I hope?"

Norris blinks at Myrddin. "Gettin whut, now?"

Mikal is staring in open-mouthed awe at the wall, leaning against Raphael and with her head tilting back as she tries to see the top of it.

Myrddin blinks. "Vertigo. Uh... motion-sickness, queasiness... no, I suppose not...

Norris looks sheepish. "Sorreh, just never heard th' word before...naw, I'm feelin alrights, fer someone whuts been seeing world-eatin insects and whatnot." he responds after a moment.

Jareth grins, "He's asking if you need to throw up, Norris." He's got one hand on the harness, the other resting on Mikal's back, the wall is bigger than anything he's ever seen. This dreamscape is beautiful to him. "Is this what it's supposed to be, Myrddin? All this space and beauty and.... what's that word? The one that means what something might be?"

Mikal glances back a bit blankly at Norris and Myrddin, and nods once in agreement with the bigger boty.

Mikal whispers, "Potential?"

Norris himself, is very quiet. He's not really scared, or awed, by any of this...just feeling numb. Maybe it's because he's having a hard time understanding all of this. Or maybe it's because he knows he can't understand, and jsut accepts it. He never really thought about the bigger picture, the larger questions. Life, the universe, everything. He wsa always focused on the moment, trying to be the best he could, do the best he could from day to day. Forced into this alien world, nothing has changed on that front. All he wants to do is be there for the people that matter to him, whatever that entails.

Myrddin nods at Jareth's question. "Yes. This is all as it should be. That is the wall between the Mirror and the rest of the Dreamtime. It protects the dreamers of the Waking from, well, everything else. And the other way around, as well."

Mikal murmurs in soft awe, "Does it ever end?"

Myrddin opens his mouth, pauses, then says, "Without drawing you into a discussion of geometry, Mikal, yes, it does. It is a great circular wall around the Mirror, and there are four points where it is interrupted. One of those is our destination. Look, there, ahead!"

Far ahead, there is an.. irregularity... upon the wall. It is at first hard to make it out. But as they streak closer, and Virgil begins to slow, they can see that it is nothing less than a promontory, a short peninsula, that reaches out into the 'Mirror,' and upon which is built a castle of white gypsum of seemingly the same scale as the wall is built upon. it glitters and flashes, almost seemingly made from silver, catching the sourceless light in a magnificent display of light.

At the same time it is spotted, the sky in fact starts to lighten, starting to take on a faint bluish tinge, sweeping from twilight and edging on to the vibrant blue of early morning.

Mikal whispers in awe, "A fairy castle! Should we not eat or drink here?"

Jareth catches his breath in awe as well. He grins at Mikal, glad she asked the question. "You could fit the whole village in there plus some!"

Norris looks dumbly at it. "Ahm not hungreh, tell ya that right now."

Myddrin chuckles softly. "Fairy castle, indeed. But you need not worry about food or drink here. You are not the visitors to these places that there were in past ages. You see before you the great Winter Palace of Dream, where the courts of Alfheim are held in these troubled times.

Mikal leans back nervously against Jareth and Raphael. "Umm... this is the safe place?!"

Myrddin nods. "Oh, yes. Very safe."

Virgil looses a little altitude, as the castle looms large above them. Then, swiftly, he angles upward, sweeping over the peninsula's cliff face. Streaking by against the cliff face, the group catches fleeting glimpses of figures mining and smithing in caves and along paths set into the face of the peninsula. Then a few moments later they burst over the side of the castle grounds, revealing the expansive plaza and collonades and the multitude of baroque buildings, as Virgil slowly orbits around the grounds. The three have heard stories of the grand capitol and the palaces of the Kingdom of Eagles; this seems to live up to them, if not exceed them.

Mikal firmly reminds herself: if this is safety, then no matter how terrifying its denizens appear to her, she probably shouldn't shoot them. She blinks back over her shoulder at Myrddin's reassurance, then looks forward again. Her soft murmur probably isn't audible to anyone but Raphael and maybe Jareth, "Dear lord... we're doomed."

As Virgil swoops upwards, Mikal makes a startled half-squeak, half-scream, and clutches in sudden panic at the leather straps. She's wide-eyed and panting by the time they land, too frightened to even yell at Virgil for scaring her yet again.

Norris blinks a little as he absorbes what's said. "Why is it a castle of dream? Is there a King of Dreaming here, or sommat?" he queries.

Jareth's arm drapes over Mikal's back and hugs her carefully. He's a little breathless himself and feels his heart racing, partially from fear and partially from excitement.

Myrddin shakes his head. "Not a king. Mara Sith is the Throne of Dream, and it is to her that the twin realms of Alfheim have sworn support to. The two leaders of Alfheim are her consorts now, and are thrones in their own right."

He pronounces the name 'Mara Sith' with an even more unusual accent than how he normally speaks, something with a hint of brogue.

Jareth listens with fascination to to Myrddin's explanation, tucking the information away in his brain. There's so much to know.

Norris starts doing math in his head...fortunately for him, it's simple math. "So, there's four breaks in th' wall. Does that mean four castles? A castle fer summer an spring and autumn, just like fer winter?"

Myrddin nods to Norris. "Yes. It has been many epochs since the Spring and Summer Palaces were last used, and the courts moved to the Winter Palace shortly after the war broke the cosmos and the spider-wasps came....."

Virgil finally banks a little, to bring them closer to an outlying area of the grounds, where a small grove stands. In the heart of the grove stands a small, elegant and neat bungalow or cottage, and Virgil rumbles in amusement, "Hah! There's Armaros's home. I imagine he would be glad to meet our guests."

Raphael is starting to growl -- a low-level indicator of his distress not only with flying, but also with the sudden and unpleasant mental jolts of sheer terror he's been getting repeatedly (if unwittingly) from Mikal.

Norris's brow knits. "Wait, more'n one? Aint just one huge wasp we're dealing with, there's a whole buncha them? Th' One preserve us."

Mikal buries her face in Raphael's mane again, clinging to him and trying not to cry.

Virgil carefully and surprisingly gently lowers himself to the ground outside the grove. Now that they aren't flying around madly, it's like a pleasant day near the village: Blue sky, gentle breeze that flaps the banners in the air, a faint touch of chill to the air to suggest, but not insist upon, winter. Virgil has landed on what looks like a white gypsum courtyard or wide path, but right before them the path gives way to the shady grove, within which is the cottage apparently made from wood. It is open-faced, and a man with remarkably dark skin and wearing layered white muslin robes is jut emerging, looking curious as he approaches the Ophid.

Myrddin sighs, "And, here we are," he says, slipping from Virgil's back to settle his feet on the ground.

Norris slides down next, and starts helpnig his friends off Virgil's back, starting with the very uncomfortable looking Raph.

Mikal and Raphael nearly explode away from the four-winged creature! Mikal's legs give out on her and she staggers, collapsing and rolling for a moment before she comes up again, still doggedly heading for cover. The big raptor-wolf pauses only long enough, when she falls, to grab an arm in his massive jaws and nearly drag her along with him.

Norris blinks. "Mikal, Raph, wait a minute, what's wrong?" he calls after them, torn between helping her and helping Jareth down first.

Jareth slides down off Virgil and calls out, "Mikal! Wait! Please!" He knows, though he couldn't tell you how, that Myrddin is trustworthy.

The man blinks at the charging pair, and sidesteps them. "Whups!" he says in a richly accented tenor. He glances to Myrddin and Virgil, a touch rebukingly. "Wait here, you two," he says to the Ophid and the man, before going along with Jareth and Norris.

Norris follows with Jareth, his long legs taking him in large strides...he could easily catch up with them, but the only problem is he wouldn't know what to do if he did. He looks helplessly at Jareth, hoping the other boy has some idea.

Mikal nearly dives into the very welcome shade of the trees. She ends up scrambling between several of them before she finally flops at the foot of one of the trees, her back pressed to it and panting nervously. Raphael gives a small, unhappy yowl, pressing close against Mikal and watching behind them, where the flying creature and all the other incomprehensibly strange things are.

Jareth crouches down in front of Mikal and Raph when they get close to the tree, smiling a little, "Hey now, I thought we'd been working on that shyness thing?"

Mikal gets her breath back relatively quickly... but that doesn't really help much with the realization that every place she's ever been, everyone she's ever known... is gone. She gives Jareth a huge-eyed, desolate look -- then flings her arms about his neck and bursts into tears.

The dark-skinned man steps quietly after the group, looking with worry at the vrying forester, though he remains somewhat back from them for the moment, his hands tucked quietly within the sleeves of his robes.

Jareth wraps his arms around the girl and makes gentle shushing sounds as one would to a distraught baby. One hand strokes her back and he reaches out to her silently, wondering what best to do for her.

Jareth strokes Mikal's back, murmuring, "I'm right here. Norris is here. We're all here. You're safe. The people here are good people. I can feel it." Having her breakd own has drained the teasing out of him.

Norris watches Jareth and Mikal for a bit, looking quietly sad...but he trusts in the natural calming power of Jareth, and doesn't want to smother his friend. So instead he walks up to the quiet darkskinned man. "Ahm sorreh, sir. But ahm sure yew can unnerstand that we aint exactly feelin right at home here, what with monster wasps and gigundous walls an all that."

Mikal clings to Jareth and cries herself out. It doesn't take as long as last time: she hasn't got the energy for it, and what Jareth is saying does eventually penetrate her fog of misery. She eventually ends up sniffly and droopy, nearly collapsed against Jareth and Raphael, who has taken the opportunity to press close against her, making small unhappy murfling noises as he noses her. Mikal gives Raphael a slightly watery smile, hugging him with one arm, then whispers a bit hopelessly to Jareth, "Could it maybe be a really bad shared nightmare we're having, Jareth? Maybe we could all wake up at home? Maybe?"

The man nods, placing a hand on Norris's shoulder. "It is not an easy thing to come forth from a dreamscape and see the reflection of the spider-wasps in the Mirror."

He looks at Mikal's words, and looks simply nothing more than sad and understanding.

Norris nods in hearty agreement...and then his head tilts like a confused pup. "This may seem a strange question, sirrah...but do ah know yew? Yer face seems sommat familiar..."

Jareth smiles a little bit, "Maybe, Mikal. Maybe. But just in case it's not, we need to make sure we keep our wits about us, yes? Have you ever wanted to go exploring? Think of it like that. Remember the storyteller that came through? Remember the stories he told? About rescuing princesses and saving kingdoms?"

Mikal thinks a moment, rubbing her face with the back of her sleeve. After a moment she nods to Jareth's question, adding unhappily, "But if it's like that... how come they never tell the part of the story where the hero loses their home forever?"

Jareth grins at her, a big impish grin and says, "We're not losing our home, Mikal! We're saving it! It's not an adventure if someone's not in peril!"

Mikal looks unhappily at Jareth, "I... don't see that, but if you say so." She looks down at her lap for a moment, then sighs gustily. "Well... if we're supposed to save our home, can we do it quick, so we can go back?"

The man arches a brow to Norris, then smiles widely and gently. "That may very well be so, but we have not met in person, no."

He looks to Mikal, then says quietly to Norris, "When she is ready, please, bring her to the cottage. I will make some tea for you all. And chase away Myrddin. I am sure he has business with the Courts as it is."

Norris's brow knits, clearly not getting it. "if yew say so, sir..." he murmurs. Tea might help. Tea is normal.

Jareth is still hugging Mikal and kisses the top of her head, "The quicker we fix it, the quicker we can go home, yes." He looks at NOrris and the other man, smiling, "And maybe someplace for her to rest?"

Norris does a visual check on his friends and then goes over to the lingering Virgil and Myrddin. "Ah don't mean t' be ungrateful from yew saving me an mine from th' Khidra...but that other fella over there says somethin about Courts and bizness with em. Yew know what he means, ah hope?"

The man steps away from the small scene, making his way back to the cottage, pausing and nodding to Jareth, smiling kindly.

When Norris gets there, the man has already had short, curt words for Myrddin, before heading into tthe cottage. Virgil himself has stretched out lazily, curled around and beneath one of the trees that's heavy with large fruit and is eyeing the fruit a touch hungrily. Myrddin for his part, nods to Norris. "Aye, I do. I need to let the seneschal know that you four have arrived." He sounds very subdued. "But I will tell them that you will present yourselves in your own time. You need not hurry; they will understand. And you are in good hands with Armaros."

Mikal sighs and nods, still too emotionally shaken up to realize precisely what's going on. She hauls herself to her feet, swaying a moment, then straightens determinedly. "All right. We're monster hunters. I don't know how we're going to affect something the si-ss-ss..." She cuts off, realizing she's not quite ready yet to deal with the entire horrific concept of spider wasps, and hastily amends, "-so! Uh... so... so we should talk to someone about how to slay monsters here, r-right?"

Jareth smiles, keeping his arm around Mikal, "Yes. I'm sure they can help us learn that." He thinks for a moment and says, "You believe me when I say we can trust them, right?"

Mikal is quite willing to lean a bit against Jareth, and to keep a hand on Raphael -- it's a tacit reassurance the two of them won't simply disappear on her. She looks up at Jareth a bit worriedly, "Can we? Can you scent them like Raphael or something?"

Norris knows that there's more going on here than he understands. He hazards a guess. "Is yew in trouble fer helping us, sirrah?" he queries Myrddin.

Myrddin makes a quiet sound, shifing his staff to his other hand. "Not as such, no. But I could have handled it better. Armaros is a gentle one, and he greatly dislikes seeing mortals in any sort of hurt. Please excuse me, though. I think Armaros is right that if I am not present, that would be less reason for Mikal to be reminded of what I have done to you all."

Jareth wiggles his nose at her and says, "It's not so much smell as a feeling I get. They've got good in their hearts for us." What's left out is that this same sort of feeling is how he often knows who's going to be amenable to his advances.

Mikal blinks, deeply startled, "Jareth! You pu-" She hastily cuts off her words, glancing around nervously to make sure none of the strangers are close -- then she rises up on her tiptoes to whisper in Jareth's ear, "You put good in their hearts?! Isn't that a bit... well... um, pushy?"

Norris reaches out and touches this man he has only recently met in unusual empathy. Well, perhaps unusual for others. It's quite natural for Norris. "Yew's just a man, sirrah. Normal in all the usual ways. It's this world what's hurting Mikal. Besides at...ifn you didn't take us here, we'd possibly be dead from khidra, and that yew don't recover from, hey?"

Myrddin inclines his head to Norris in gratitude. "Well. I am sure Armaros will make her comfortable. He has that way with mortals. Thank you, Norris. I will see you all again soon, I hope."

Jareth blinks and shakes his head, "No! I don't make them feel anything. I just know what's already in there."

Norris nods firmly. "Ah reckon you got the right of it. Oh! An ahm sorry about runnin ya down, earlier." he drawls sheepishly.

Mikal's eyes widen as she stares in astonishment up at Jareth, "Really?! Huh!" She thinks a moment, then grabs Jareth's shoulder to rise up on tiptoes and whisper excitedly, "That sounds sort of like what I can do!" She smiles a touch uncertainly at Jareth, not sure how he'll take that.

Myrddin smiles amusedly. "It's fine. I should have watched where I was gating into. But now I do need to get to the Courts. Please, excuse me."

Norris bids farewell, and then looks over at the lazy Virgil, and looks where he's looking. "Sir, thank yew for a smooth, uh...ver-tee-go-less ride. Yew wants me to get you an apple?"

Jareth pauses, looking down at Mikel, surprised but intrigued. He wants to ask more, but he glances toward where the others are. Seriously, he says, "I want to hear about that. I want to know about it, but I think the others are waiting for us." After a moment of thought, "How's Raph taking it?"

Mikal sighs in sudden relief that Jareth's not weirded out by her ability, throwing her arms around him in a tight hug and resting her head against his chest for a moment. Her voice is quiet as she murmurs, "I'm so glad you and Norris and Raphael are here too! He doesn't like it either, but he knows pack comes first too."

Virgil says, "Think nothing of it. And no need, thank you. I'm merely considering which one is ripe enough to pluck...." He seems quite content to be contemplating the large fruit hanging from the tree above him."

Mikal straightens up after a moment and smiles up at Jareth, taking his hand, "You're right. Let's go talk to them." She rests a hand on Raphael as the big raptor-wolf falls in next to her.

Jareth puts on a warm smile and leads the girl and her odd brother to where the others stand near the tree.

Mikal ends up keeping Jareth slightly between her and the reposing aphid-thing (she's still confused as to how something that large could be an aphid, though), and studies their surroundings curiously. Her voice is soft and uncertain, "Um... so... do we go into the house, or wait here, or what?"

Norris turns as he hears his friends approaching. "Hey, ya'll. Everything all fixed?" he queries hopefully, looking at Mikal. "Our travelling friend left, an we're supposed to go have tea in th' cottage." he explains, almost in perfect timing to Mikal's query.

Mikal says, "Oh." She looks around again, then nods, "Inside, all right." She sort of casually keeps the others between her and the flying monster, and heads for the little house, tapping lightly on the door, "Um, h-hello? Anybody home?""

Norris nudges Jareth, and makes a little querying thumbs up gesture to him, as if asking if he helped Mikal out.

Within the cottage, there is a remarkable panoply of smells -- incense and spices, wood and plants, and it feels cozy and warm. The walls are a dark mahogany, but there is plenty of light within, as well as a fire-pit against one wall. A curtained-off area is in the back, with the curtains being made from elaborate beadwork. Besides several shelves with books, scrolls, and even a few clay tablets -- none in any language the group recognizes -- there are several large wooden shields; these shields are oval, an carved from single pieces of wood and are elaborately decorated.

The man, Armaros, is near the fireplace, setting a kettle over the fire. He looks up as Mikal calls to the house, and stands, beaming to her. "Ah, welcome, welcome! Come in, please," he says, placing his hands together and bowing in a gesture that is both formal and casual.

Jareth nods to Norris, giving him a reassuring smile. There's too much to explain at the moment.

Mikal blinks at the man, standing confusedly in the doorway. "You -- I -- d-do I know you?"

Norris, fortunately, seems to be satisfied with his friend's nod, as he refocuses on Armaros. He inhales, and does seem comforted by the smells, which seem reminicent of the herbalists hut he'd visited on occasion.

Mikal says, "Er, I mean have we met?" She blushes, belatedly remembering her manners, "Sir?"

Armaros smiles gently, shaking his head. "No, we have not met. But a very long time ago, before the war, it was my greatest of joys to aid and help mortals. What familiarity you have for me is a... a spiritual remnant of that, a memory at best. But I am very pleased to make your acquaintance now. My name is Armaros."

Mikal blinks, staring at the ground as she slowly digesting that startling information... then she looks up, "Are you an elf?"

Jareth steps forward, offering his hand, "I'm Jareth."

Mikal hastily steps inside and to the side, as Raphael gives her an impatient nudge to get out of the doorway!

Norris makes room for the wolf as well, and closes the door behind them. "Ahm Norris, sir. And the four-legged fella - since he aint really able t' introduce himself - is Raph."

Mikal says, "Ah, r-right!" She hastily fumbles for Raphael, brushing his mane back a bit, "This is Raphael, right. Um, and I'm M-m-mikal."

Armaros gives a soft, kind chuckle. "No, I am not. I am... similar to them. My tribe has had many names: Grigorim, Prometheoi, Anansi." He shakes Jareth's hand comfortably, a pleasant shaking without any attempt at a crushing grip. He gestures to a circle of cushions set before the fireplace. "Please, please, sit and be at ease! My home is yours. The tea will be ready shortly."

Mikal watches the man wide-eyed as she slowly sinks onto a cushion before the fireplace. Raphael settles comfortably behind her with a small sighing snort of relaxation, curling around her enough that she can lean back against him and he can get his ears rubbed.

Jareth settles on one side of Miakl, trusting Norris to settle on the other side, keeping her surrounded by her pack.

Norris nods. "Ease. Ease is good." he murmurs, taking his place on Mikal's right without being prompted...without even thinking about it, to be honest. This was a smart idea. It'll be easier to keep everyone comfortable in a normal looking house, regardless of what's actually outside.

Mikal flashes a quick, relieved smile at both boys when they sit next to her, then leans to whisper to them, "Do either of you have any idea what he's talking about? Is this like calling the lizard monster an aphid?"

Norris shakes his head. "Most folks ah know only gots one name. Nivver met no one who had more'n one. Must be a whole thing with people here."

Mikal nods perplexedly, "Do you suppose they're just... confused, or something?"

For a few minutes, Armaros fusses with the tea, setting out several wooden cups and pouring the brew into them. This is not tea with which they are familiar with, as there are still bits of the carefully-rushed leaves within the steaming liquid. But it is aromatic and soothing, with a "polite" scent that is neither overpowering nor weak. He sets the kettle beside the fire, as he offers a cup to each of his guests. "And I imagine," he says, "that what I said made about as much sense as if I were to say I was the Emcee of Koozbain....."

Mikal straightens up abruptly, flushing with embarrassment -- did the guy hear them?! Did he take offense?

Jareth takes his cup and smiles, "I figure its like one person calling it fleabane and another one calling it daisy dogbane. Just depends who you ask."

Norris sniffs the tea curiously. "Beggin yer pardon, but ahm not sure names matter that much. Mebbe you's could just be trying t' expand on whut Myrddin was sayin about what he thinks we kin do here about..." He looks at Mikal sidelong. "...stuff."

Mikal is staring a bit dubiously into her tea. After a few sniffs she takes a careful sip... then sighs and relaxes a bit. She leans to whisper to Raphael, "Want some tea, Raph?"

Armaros laughs happily "Oh, yes, indeed!" He settles onto a cushion with a sigh. "Ahh. Let me see if I may clarify, then, Norris....

"Many epochs ago, before the war, I and my fellow Anansi taught mortals a number of things to help them in their worlds. Ever since that time, those of us who have survived have sought nothing more than to help mortals as best as we may, in whatever way we can. And so this is what I do. I remain here at the Winter Palace, to help those dreaming mortals who come here."

Norris sips at his tea as he listens politely. "How d' they usually come here, sir? Ah mean, izzit like with us and Myrddin?"

Armaros's expression darkens in pain a little. "Sadly, yes. Myrddin and others try to be gentle but there is little to prepare someone for what greets them when they emerge from their dreamscapes.

"But... here at least, they may recuperate, ask questions and receive answers, and learn more about the Dreamtime."

Raphael gives a relaxedly amused snort, and Mikal smiles, stroking his ears gently, "All right. Just checking, pack-brother." She continues stroking the contented raptor-wolf's ears as she sips her tea, starting finally to calm down.

Norris nods thoughtfully. "Does it happen often? Ah mean...Myrddin made it sound like there aint as many people what are fighting against, uh... the bad guys. Like every folk yew kin get iz important."

Mikal blinks at a sudden thought, "Did he come for us specifically? Or did he mean to get someone else before the khidra attacked him?" She frowns, then adds with the bluntness of the tired, "Does he annoy everyone he meets? We'd never seen khidra packing before like that!"

Jareth snorts, almost spraying tea out his nose and then laughs aloud when he's wiped his mouth dry.

Mikal blinks startledly at Jareth! -then flushes again as she realizes what she said. She stammers to the man, "I, uh, I d-d-didn't m-m-mean to be -- to be rude, sir!"

Jareth winks at Mikal, stage-whispering, "Sometimes rude is just another word for truthful."

Armaros takes a sip of his tea, nodding. "Mm. There are some, yes, but their numbers are few. You see, unlike aethyrs such as myself, mortals are strong dreamers, and have the potential for great power in the Dreamtime. There are reasons for this, of course. But there are so few mortals here now." He blinks at Mikal's outburst, then bursts out laughing. "No, no, you were not being rude! Oh, my. Myrddin does indeed have that effect on everyone and everything he meets, I fear. You say that animals packed nearby him which did not pack before?"

Mikal blinks at the laughter, clutching her teacup nervously... then looks relieved. At the query she nods mutely, eyes still wide.

Armaros shakes his head, smiling quietly. "Yes. Myrddin was once a priest of nature, and most animals -- even dream animals -- find themselves drawn to him out of curiosity and agitation. It does not surprise me that normally solitary hunters became... irritable with so many of their kin in close proximity to him.

"But he did not go to your dreamscape specifically to find you. Or rather, he does not 'routinely' go forth to draw people from their dreamscapes. Normally he merely explores, but... he has a habit of getting into trouble."

Mikal sighs, relaxing a little at finally discovering the reason behind the khidras' anomalous behavior. She's relieved -- this means the khidra pack won't threaten the village. Then she blinks, feeling the quick sting of tears -- the village which... is... just a mental mirage, apparently... she still doesn't quite understand that, but she takes a deep breath and pushes the horrible thought firmly aside. She's here, now, with her pack, and they're all safe and sound. She smiles a bit shakily down at Raphael's head resting on her thigh now, giving her a soulful gaze, and thinks to him, Don't worry, Raphael, I'm remembering your advice about living in the here and now.

Norris listens without talking for a bit, rubbing his chin on the edge of the tea cup. "What would happen if a dream animal came here, Sir Armaros?" he queries suddenly.

Armaros considers, and looks curiously at Raphael. "Most dream animals," he says slowly, "are just aspects of the dream. They would normally not exist outside of their dreamscape. Which tells me that there's something quite special about your Raphael here."

Jareth listens to the story and grins at Norris' insight. The boy doesn't trust himself enough and the goat herd is glad to hear him putting himself forward.

Mikal looks up at that, then says with quiet but firm pride, "Of course! He's my brother. Er, half brother."

Armaros considers for a moment, then nods -- it is more acceptance of that fact than Mikal ever expected from anyone. "Indeed. And he may very well be more than that, if he emerged from the dreamscape with you."

Jareth leans forward a little. This sounds like it could be importan. And more exciting than that, it could be interesting.

Norris nods, and then looks at Mikal with satisfaction. "So...mebbe Raph is another dreamer, just in a different body?" he drawls, hazarding another guess, feeling rather pleased with himself.

Mikal smiles, stroking Raphael's ears again, "It wouldn't surprise me. He's the best pack-brother a girl could ask for." She blinks interestedly at Norris, "Oh! I hadn't thought of that."

Armaros nods, smiling. "He might very well be. How did you come by his companionship, Mikal?"

Norris blushes. "Just dream logic, Mikal. We aint always ourselves in dreams." he drawls. And then his head tilts. "Might be we look nothin' like ourselves in th' supposed real world we dream t' escape."

Mikal says, "I..." she pauses, considering and glancing down at Raphael, "How did we... oh, right, thanks." She looks up again, "He got driven from his territory by an unusual white coated khidra, and was starving when we met. He'd gotten tangled up in one of my traps." She adds with a small, far-away smile, "When we saw each other... we just knew, you know?"

Jareth thinks about that one, leaning back on his elbows and asking, "So, the people we know are real?"

Armaros nods, a touch solemnly to Norris. "Indeed, yes. For now, it is best not to be too concerned with that, but to keep it in mind. These are the masks you wear in the Dreamtime." He looks to Mikal, listening thoughtfully and nodding. "Mmmm." He smiles. "It is a lovely story, Mikal. And I've little doubt that you did indeed, know."

He looks to Jareth, nodding. "Oh, yes. The people you knew in your dreamscape were other mortals dreaming the same dream as you."

Mikal looks a touch confused, "We look different, but we're all people? Except when we're not, and we're special animals like Raphael?"

Armaros considers for a moment. "Have you ever had a dream where you were not... yourself? Where you dreamed you were someone else entirely, with different memories?"

Norris looks at Mikal. "Might be more'n that, Mikal. Just because there's wun kinda exception , doesn't men that th' only one. Like with language...losta exception there."

Jareth laughs, "Only every night."

Norris's brow knits. "All the exceptions with words hurt mah head sometimes."

Mikal gives Norris a confused look, "What?"

Armaros nods a little. "In a dreamscape, when one is killed, one does not die, but takes up a different mask." He looks with renewed curiosity at Raphael. "It is entirely possible that you are, indeed, in some way related to Raphael's soul."

Norris gestures. "Ahm just sayin...Raph is different than you an me. Maybe there's dreamers what are even different from him, yannow? That aint animals r' people atall?"

Mikal is starting to look like she's getting a headache, and her voice rises in sudden anxiety, "Are you telling me monsters dream? That we might be killing people when we kill monsters?!"

Jareth immediately slides an arm around Mikal's shoulders, "I don't think so."

Mikal shudders, leaning against Jareth and turning her face into him as she whispers, "Are you sh-sure, Jareth? Please be sure!"

Armaros holds up his hands. "I do not know, Mikal. I would need to examine the dreamscape. But from what you have told me, the monsters are... different. ALmost not native to your dreamscape. And not every dream-animal is a souled mortal." He indicates Raphael. "Only some.

"And in a dreamscape, nobody truly dies. But," he says quickly," that is different when you are outside a dreamscape."

Jareth murmurs to Mikal, "Listen to him. The monsters aren't right. They don't fit. They're wrong. Raph isn't wrong, he's just a raptor-wolf."

Mikal sighs and relaxes slightly at that... then gives Armaros a faintly haunted look, "B-but I d-d-don't dream like you said -- I'm always there and watching, ev-even when I'm the main person in the dream too!"

Armaros says, "Not everyone dreams such a dream, Mikal. Please, do not be concerned. Dreams, like the Dreamtime, come from within our hearts. And I know of none, even we Anansi, who knew entirely what goes on inside the mortal heart!"

Norris looks a little confused at first, but his mind seems to hone in on Armaros's last comment. They're not dreaming now...which means if they die, they die for real. He doesn't look happy about that, but for Mikal's sake, decides not to bring it up. It's not like it matter that much...they risked death, being monster hunters. They're just in a different place now, fighting different monsters.

Mikal takes a deep breath and nods slowly to Armaros, then has a bit more tea.

Jareth is also considdering the death comment and, for similar reasons, doesn't say anything about it at the moment. He does ask, however, "Could those spider things be sending the monsters?"

Mikal shivers, then looks up with a grim expression, "And are they the monsters we're supposed to kill?" She hesitates, then adds confusedly, "Wait... you've been alive how long? And the elves, and all? Why haven't you all killed the dream monsters? Compared to all you magical folks, what good are we?"

Norris finishes his tea, staying quiet for a moment, letting others ask questions while his mind processes all this. It's troubling, yes. But it's also relieving in a way...if what Armaros suggests is true, the people they care about arent in real danger where they are...and maybe here, they can help fix things. Maybe. His head is filled with doubt, but if he just stands by his friends, he's sure they can put their heads together with the smart people of this place and tell him what he needs to smash.

The ersatz goat herd gives Mikal a squeeze for asking good questions and grins at Norris, getting very close to his usual cocky, confident expression. To Armaros, he says, "I want to know... if the spider-wasps eat our world, doesn't that just mean the people wake up somewhere else?"

Armaros folds his hands, looking grimly thoughtful. "I do not know. I have not heard of other dreamscapes with such monsters, so I would need to see them for myself. I do not believe Myrddin was paying quite so much attention as to be able to determine that himself. That or he was being chased too energetically."

Armaros looks to Mikal, and smiles gently. "What good are you? My dear Mikal, nothing is more powerful in the dreamtime than a mortal dreamer. We aethyrs are but custodians, caretakers; even the powers among us have only what power that mortals give them. You are powerful because of your belief and your ability to dream lucidly and change your dreams.

"This is because the Dreamtime is where you came from. All mortals, everywhere, once, long ago, came into being here in the Dreamtime."

Norris looks blankly at Armaros...now the old man has really gone over his head.

Armaros nods to the door, as if indicating everything beyond it. "Somewhere out there is the place mortals first walked, first talked, first saw the Light of Wisdom, first raised their hand against the Architect, and first met we Anansi. Somewhere out there is your birthright, the garden you grew up in. Gan Eden."

After a few moments, he looks to Jareth. "Unfortunately, the spider-wasps exist in the Waking. While the dreamer may 'die' in the dreamscape, the Architect bound you to your waking bodies too well. If the body dies, the soul goes on to Sheol.

Mikal is starting to look as blank as Norris.

Mikal says, "Um... so... what good are we, please?"

Jareth speaks slowly, "I think he's saying... they live here, but they can't change things here, and we can."

Mikal says plaintively to Jareth, "But he hasn't said how yet, Jareth!"

Mikal says, "He's j-just... just told us a strange fairy tale that I don't understand so far!"

Armaros looks again to Mikal. "You are good, Mikal, because unlike us, you can change the very fabric of the Dreamtime by your will alone. If you go into the mines below the palace, you will see the scartalfar hamering away in the mines and at the forges. You... can think something into being. You probably couldn't dream a vast, flying airship into being right away, but in time you could. And there are countless other things. that you can do simply with enough conviction and desire."

Mikal gives Armaros a very dubious look... then looks down at her now-cooled and mostly empty teacup. "I wish I had more hot tea, then." She stares down at the cup expectantly.

Jareth thinks about that for a second and opens his hand, looking down at his palm. 'Something easy, he thinks. Something small. A bluebird's feather.' He concentrates on his palm, imagining the feather as closely as he can, brow furrowing with the concentration of it.

Norris blinks...Armaros's words strike a chord, about forges in the castle. "Ah don't think it's like that, fellas. Ah had to be *taught* how to shape metal. How to work it with m' hammer. Mebbe it's something we can do, but we'd haveta be taught first."

Armaros arches a brow, "It does take some training," he warns gently, but does lean back to watch.

Mikal is looking into her tea cup. She blinks -- and the cup is full, with nice piping hot tea. And in front of his face, a bluebird's feather drifts down from the rafters of the cottage to land neatly in his lap. Armaros's mouth widens into a quiet smile.

Mikal gives a startled squeak, nearly spilling her tea in surprise!

Norris blinks.... "or mebbe you can."

Jareth doesn't squeal, but he does grin so brightly that his face seems like it might split in two. He picks up the feather and twirls it around by the shaft, "Well, well. That's got some interesting implications."

Mikal sniffs carefully, then takes a cautious sip... then beams, "Oh, it's good!" She gets a suddenly suspicious look as she glances at Armaros, "Is it just a dream? Will it go away in a bit, and I'll be left with an empty stomach?"

Armaros nods solemnly to Jareth, but with a smile. "The implications are enormous. But... that is not something I could do." He looks to Mikal. "Yes, it is a dream, but it will satisfy you and sate you."

Mikal looks confused, "So... it will go away, or not?"

Jareth grins at Mikal and says, "I think that's a no. It won't go away."

Mikal nods slowly to Jareth, her eyes a little wide as she studies the bluebird feather. She reaches out to brush it delicately with a gentle finger, murmuring, "Pretty..." then suddenly yawns hugely! She blinks at that, then adds, "Um... can we sleep some?"

Mikal looks suddenly stricken, "Oh no! What happens if we dream here!?"

Armaros says reassuringly, "Nothing. Should your waking body rouse itself in it's slumber you will disappear here; but when the body returns to dreaming, you will appear here again. Myddrin said that this happened to one of your number, actually." He looks to Norris.

Mikal says wistfully, "Can we dream of being home, safe and sound?"

Jareth grins and tucks the feather into Mikal's hair.

Mikal blinks at that, giving Jareth a startled glance -- then grins shyly and blushes, looking away as she murmurs, "Th-thanks, J-jareth," to him.

Norris blinks. "Whut? I mean...huh?" he says intelligently.

Armaros considers for a moment, then shakes his head sadly. "I am sorry, Mikal, but while you may dream of your home while here, doing that will not bring you back to the dreamscape you came from. It will just be a memory of your home."

Mikal gives Norris a confused look, "What?" She nods to Armaros, somehow not surprised. Still a touch wistfully, she adds, "Memories can be nice, though..."

Norris tries to parse what was said. "So...I woke up...and that's why everyone dissapeared? Why don't I remember waking up, then?"

Mikal gives Norris another startled look, "Wait, what?!"

Armaros smiles gently to Mikal, nodding. "Yes. They can be. Much was lost in the war, and I treasure what memories I still have from that time before." He looks to Norris, then Mikal. "Myrddin said that he had to go back for your friend.

Mikal stares wide-eyed at Norris, "You vanished while we were hunting the khidra -- because you woke UP?!" Her eyes get, if anything, even wider as she stares in horror at Armaros, "You mean they could all vanish on my any second?!"

Norris grimaces at Mikal. "Ahm not sure I get it either, Mikal. But there wuz this moment when we wuz all together, and then the next moment, ah wuz alone. An Mr. Armaros is saying that th' real me 'woke' up, annat's why ah dissapeared." He looks at the dark man. "Did ah get dat right?"

Mikal's hands are suddenly white-knuckled on the teacup, and the tea inside is beginning to slosh slightly as she starts shaking.

Armaros says, gently but firmly, that if any of them fall asleep and 'disappear,' they will absolutely return. Norris, after all, came back.

Mikal takes a few quick, gasping breaths, her eyes wide and bright with fear -- then she turns abruptly, one hand latching onto Norris. Her voice is tight and worried, "Promise you'll come back! Promise?"

Armaros says, smiling gently, "Even if he would promise otherwise, which I am certain he would not, he would be coming back. You all have had a long and likely stressful day. Some rest might help you to ground yourselves."

Mikal blinks a few times at Armaros, thinking about that... then slowly her white-knuckled grip on Norris' shirt loosens -- although she doesn't quite release yet. "All of us? Me too? If any of us disappear, we will come back here? And it's because someone somewhere else wakes up, not that we're losing connection here or running away or anything?"

Armaros nods, folding his hands upon his belly. "Exactly. All four of you. You generally re-manifest in the same place you 'disconnected' from. And you would only disconnect when someone somewhere else -- your waking selves -- wakes up or rouses from their sleep for a moment. There is nothing that I know of in the Dreamtime that can force you to 'disconnect.'"

Mikal nods slowly, thinking about that. Eventually she releases Norris' shirt, blushing and muttering an apology. She gives Raphael a very tight hug, causing the big raptor wolf to cough softly and wriggle, then give her cheek a slurp after she releases. She finishes her tea -- still somewhat amazed that it appeared out of nowhere! -then looks at Armaros, "So, um... w-w-what now, sir?"

Armaros says, "I would suggest you rest. Meditate or sleep -- sleep here in the dreamtime provides a good way to recouperate, and think upon things. Even though the dream body does not need to sleep, the simulation of it is comforting to the soul."

Mikal nods slowly again, then glances at her companions a bit shyly, "Could we, um... s-s-stay together, please?"

The other two -- three, counting Raphael -- agree, and curled up together on one of Armaros's cushions, they find themselves drifting off to sleep.

Mikal's sleep is deep and dream-free, and in time she awakens refreshed and grounded. Raphael wakens almost immediately as soon as she does, but Jareth and Norris are still sprawled out and sleeping. Armaros is not in sight. From outside the cottage's front door, there is the sound of a wooden low-toned flute being played, in a slow, calming melody that doesn't seem to be melancholy.

Mikal sits up a bit fast, but then sighs softly and relaxes a little as she realizes her pack are all still here with her. She lays back, her head resting on Raphael's barrel and one hand coming up to idly stroke his ears as she listens to the flute music. She murmurs softly, [How do you feel, Raph? Everything all right for you too?]

Raph gives a large-mouthed yawn, and then looks at Mikal with tongue lolling out of his mouth, looking to be quite content.

Mikal grins at Raph, having to tilt her head almost upside down to do so! After that she just lies there for a bit, thinking. If she and her friends can think things into being, then they obviously need to think the bad things away from here. But if it were easy, any people like them would do, surely? So that means there's either something special about her and her pack... or the bad things are so huge that the immortals here just keep bringing in new mortals to do the thinking-away, because it only works for a short while.

Mikal hms quietly to herself. But... if the thinking makes things happen, then couldn't she sort of just think her pack into being better at the thinking?

Mikal winds one finger lazily in Raphael's mane, pondering. Is time the same here as it is where she's used to being? Clearly there was at least one dead bad thing, and from what she'd gathered there was more than one live one. So... are mortals from the attacked dreamsphere necessary to thought-defend that sphere? Hm... maybe that's it?

Mikal glances at her companions, wondering why them? Why not the adult monster hunters? Surely the more experienced individuals would be better at this? As she ponders this, Raphael gives a long-suffering sigh, and she laughs softly, whispering, "All right, all right, I'll go ask someone and not pester you any more with my thoughts!"

Mikal grins, rising very carefully so she doesn't awaken her companions. She hesitates a moment irresolutely, not wanting them to worry about her having vanished... then she sets her backpack down where it can be quickly seen. There! That should let them know she's near. After that she pads almost silently to the door of the little hut and peers outside, one hand resting on Raph's neck when he paces up next to her (claws clicking slightly on the wooden floor), and nudges his head out past her so he can see outside too.

Armaros is seated in front of the cottage, siting on an ancient wooden chair; it is he who is playing the flute.

Mikal glances around, suddenly hungry. Can she see any food? There is a tray of light breakfast scones, cheese, and sweetfruits atop the counter, apparently set out by Aramaros earlier. She brightens -- then hms and looks around a bit more for something for Raphael. Maybe a nice plump rabbit or turkey for him to gobble down? A little looking does reveal a fairly recent -- but not offensively aromatic -- carcass of a creature that... looks like it could have been a rabbit.

Mikal grins happily at Raphael, holding it up questioningly -- smell good?

Raph sniffles at the carcass, then looks quite happily ready to have at it.

Mikal beams, handing it to him to carry outside, then picks up the tray, carrying it out behind Raphael. She moves silently, setting the tray down on a stump near the strange man playing the flute, then taking a few pieces of the nibblies for herself. She settles with her back comfortably braced against the contentedly gnawing raptor wolf, taking small bites of her food as she listens raptly to the flute. She's never heard one played with any skill before -- this is far different from the squeaky toys the shepherds sometimes craft and play.

The flute is large, and has a deep, resonant sound. After several minutes of playing, Mikal gets the impression that the music is somehow familiar, but she's certainly never heard it before.

Mikal tilts her head thoughtfully, trying to place the music as she nibbles on her (surprisingly tasty) scone. She likes the food here so far -- she rarely bothers spending a lot of time on her own meals, so this is a pleasant change for her.

After another minute or so of the song, it comes to an end, and Armaros turns to Mikal, smiling quietly. "Did you sleep well, Mikal?"

Mikal goes still for a moment, her stormy eyes wide as those of a fox kit that's been spotted and is unsure whether it should flee or not. Finally, carefully, she nods once, watching Armaros carefully. A moment later she adds softly, "Food's g-good. Thanks."

Armaros inclines his head. "You're very welcome. I had guessed you would need food when you awoke!"

Mikal smiles faintly, then hesitates, considering a bit. "So, um... c-can I ask... um... ask a few questions? Please?"

Armaros sets the flute in his lap, smiling easily. "Please, ask whatever you wish. There is no question that I would think to be rude."

Mikal nods cautiously. "All right. So, uhmm... so..." Once she's been given permission to ask, it only takes a few seconds for the questions to come pouring nervously out, "so why us? How d-did Merlyn find us? If all we have to do is think things, why haven't you gotten someone else to think the bad things away already? Or why don't they just think themselves better at it so they can think harder? Is there something special about us in particular? Why can't you all think the things away? What happens to us once the bad things are gone? Can we die here? If we think at the bad things, will they notice us and try to hurt us? Is time different here than at home? Is there any way to communicate with our other non-dreaming selves? Do you need mortals from the attacked dreamsphere to defend that sphere? Why not the more experienced adult monster hunters from home, instead of us apprentices? What, uh..." she blinks, realizing maybe she should take a breath and let the poor man answer!

Armaros laughs merilly at the deluge of questions. "I shall attempt to answer them all! It is my understanding that Maerlyn -- or Myrddin, as he is taking to be called again, it seems the name 'Merlin' brings him some unpleasant memories -- found you mostly by accident. He did not set out to bring back mortal dreamers. As you doubtless noticed, it is a traumatic thing to go through, and we must be careful how we do that to, and... we must be careful not to do it too often. The Architect would notice, and would not be pleased.

"The problem with thinking things away is that the spider-wasps exist in the waking world. What you saw in the Mirror is but their reflection. Much as how none here could simply 'think' you or your friends away. To attack a spider-wasp from the Dreamtime, one must bring to bear the strength of your soul and the force of your will -- to the soul in the Dreamtime, it is as if going to war. But I can guarantee to you, that it takes much more than small groups of soldiers to destroy a spider-wasp.

"Which brings me to the next question: Yes, you can die here. If any have returned from Sheol, none but Raven can say for certain.

"There are no ways I know of to communicate with your non-dreaming selves. You are a soul wearing a mask, and the soul does not like it's mask removed from it. To do so is traumatic, and it would cause no end of emotional anguish. It may even kill you.

"And time flows at roughly the same pace here and in your dreamscape. What it does not match to at all well is time flowing in the waking world. We are given to believe that, over time, time here has begun to progress faster than in the Waking, which is not how it once was.

"As for defending a dreamscape, no, one does not specifically need mortals from that dreamscape to defend it against the spider-wasps. It helps within the dreamscape, since the 'natives' know their way around, but it is not necessary to combat the spider-wasps from within the dreamscape. You see, the dreamscape acts as a... 'protective' shell, preventing other dreamscapes from impinging upon one another. I say 'protective' reservedly, because the Architect had other intents when he causes mortal dreams to form those shells.

Mikal blinks thoughtfully, nibbling on her scone as she listens. Eventually she asks, "But, um, who's the architect? Why not ask them to fix things? What's Sheol and who's Raven? And are you saying there really are monsters that size and shape in the waking place? How do we survive there, if so?"

Armaros considers for a moment. "Let me answer those questions in reverse, if I may.

"I do not know if the mortal mind can truly comprehend just what the spider-wasps look like in the Waking. Or even how they function. They are... immense on a scale you can only barely comprehend, and they exist in spaces that are at right angles to reality. They move amongst the dark angles of time and space, and are not made of matter as you or I might think of it. I am sorry, there is no better way to explain them.

"As for how your waking selves survive... I do not know. I have never been to such a world. A world that is being devoured by the spider-wasps is... not well. Entropy increases. Things break down. Wood rots, fire flickers, water becomes turbid, air becomes stale. The complex threads that make up Life begin to unravel.

"Sheol is the afterlife, the place souls go after they have died. The barrier between life and death, between here and Sheol, is managed by the Thrones of Death. Right now, the only surviving throne of Death is here at the Winter Palace, and her name is Raven."

Mikal frowns slightly, thinking, "So... Sheol is being devoured by the spider-wasps? That's why it's messed up? Why not just ask this Winter Raven to fix things then?"

Armaros shakes his head. "No, Sheol is not being so devoured. Only the world-shards you saw in the Mirror. Sheol is... well. I have not been there. But to go there, you must die. I would not recommend a visit there! Raven would not guarantee a return trip."

Mikal hms. "How many spider-wasps are there?"

Armaros shakes his head. "Many. Fewer than there are world-shards yet, but still, many. With each world they devour, another is born, you see. There could be as few as a dozen. Or as many as a thousand.

Mikal blinks, her heart sinking a bit. Her plaintive voice quavers slightly, "A-and the architect? Why won't they fix things? Why is the Raven letting everything be destroyed?"

Armaros's expression darkens. "Ah. The Architect....

"Imagine if you can a pride so great, a hubris so all-consuming, that to prove that he was right in his ideas, he would take all the soul-stuff, all the unborn and unformed souls of a world, and craft for them a world which was inherently... unstable. Water erodes stone, stars burn out, living beings age and must die only to be reincarnated to do it all again, wars are fought and the defeated slain, and pain... pain and suffering are seen by him to be worthwhile to foster.

"Saklas long ago created this universe, and in so doing created aethyrs and mortals alike. Aethyrs to be the wardens and teachers, and mortals... to be honest, I do not know what he intended for you. But I do know that when I and my siblings saw the Light, and saw the suffering he intended for mortals, we Anansi renounced it, and instead sought to help mortals as best as we could.

"And now, after all is said and done, Saklas sits, brooding, somewhere in the cosmos, in his Dark Tower. I do not know where he is, and I do not know what he is doing. All I know is that he is doing nothing we can see to resist the coming of the spider-wasps."

Mikal says timidly, "B-b-but, but... but how is stagnation better th-than, than water eroding stone, or growing up so you can have b-babies yourself, or... or killing the weak mercifully so you can eat and b-be s-s-strong?" She looks like she'd like to hide behind the little piece of scone she's holding in both hands before her, adding, "Um... if -- if you d-don't mind me asking, sir? Please?"

Armaros gently puts his hand on Mikal's shoulder. "Because it is by the Architect's own design that such things are necessary. Here in the Dreamtime we have a hint of how things could have been. There is no need to bind souls to base matter, no need to bring about pain and suffering. You rebel against the idea of a world without such because it is all you have known in your dreamscape, in the Waking, and in all of your past lives. And it is base matter, the Waking, which makes decay inevitable."

Mikal doesn't quite flinch when the larger man puts a hand on her, although she does look slightly panicked for a moment, and Raphael looks up abruptly with a snort, bloody-jawed from his eating. When nothing bad happens immediately, though, the twosome look slightly less sharply alert, and the big raptor-wolf busily goes back to devouring the last bits of the rabbity-looking thing. Mikal opens her mouth to say something -- then nervously decides not to ask the Anansi (she thinks?) what's wrong with hunting and growing. She can't really explain herself why she thinks it's a good thing, to be honest.

Armaros removes his hand. "I apologize, I did not mean to startle you."

Mikal smiles weakly up at the man, not sure why she was so discommoded. Maybe it's because she's starting to grasp that this simple looking man is... something much, much larger and more powerful? She's not sure yet what she thinks of that. She finishes off her scone, then whispers quietly, "Can I, um, can Raphael and I... can we go hunting here?"

"Of course you may. There are animals and such which are part of the dreamscape which it will not harm anyone if you hunt. In fact the Courts will sometimes, when things are at peace, engage in falconry. Many hunters who travel out beyond the palace and the walls practice their skills here."

Mikal looks puzzled, "Wait... if we can hunt here... doesn't that imply change is part of how things could have been?"

He shakes his head. "Not entirely. Because the Dreamtime is a product of the Waking, just as much as the Waking is a product of the Dreamtime. The Dreamtime has been moulded and shaped by mortal dreamers over countless epochs. Even Gan Eden is but a shadow of how things could have been. Saklas did his crafting far too well, I fear. I cannot describe the world as it might have been without his imperfections."

Mikal gives the man a slightly blank look, then simply nods once -- she doesn't get it at all, but she understands that he can't explain some concepts. "So, um, so are we supposed to be... er, what are we here for, please?"

Armaros lets out a breath. "Well. You are here because circumstance and chance has brought you here. But I do not fully believe in coincidence. You are mortal dreamers, and strong ones. I believe that you will be able to help us against the spider-wasps and those who would seek to profit from the chaos and destruction they are spreading."

He hesitates. "However, if you wish to return to your dreamscape, I would not -- could not -- deny you that. I know all too well how strong the call of home can be."

Mikal nods confusedly, then shakes her head, "Wait, who would want to help them?"

Armaros sighs. "There are some -- mortals and aethyrs alike -- who for whatever reason are aiding he cause of the Aqal, even indirectly. Some are nihilists, who see the destruction of this imperfect world, even with the life it teems with, to be good and noble. Some believe that destroying that which the spider-wasps are feeding off of, will make them die off. Some are simply annihilists, who are weary and tired and sick. Some are misinterpreting old doctrines that say the world is an illusion. There are yet others who have their own reasons.

"Fortunately these are not terribly common. There are enough of them to be concerned, but there is no sickness of existentialism spreading throughout the Dreamtime."

Mikal shakes her head again, bemused, "I, um, why do you keep using different names all the time? I mean, no wonder it's hard to explain if you aren't ever sure of what things are called...?"

"What names are confusing you, Mikal?"

Mikal takes a deep breath, gamely trying to answer, "W-well, there's the thrones and the immortals and the Raven and the Winter Court... th-there's the Prometheans and the Anansi and the aethyrs, and there's the dreamtime and the ganeeden and the dreamscapes and the akkal, um..." She gives the man a slightly plaintive look, "Even Myrddin gave three or five names! Can't anyone make up their minds here?"

Armaros gently places his hand on Mikal's shoulder again. "For what it is worth, I understand. May I explain why there appear to be so many names for everything?"

Mikal starts slightly again, "Uh!" then gives a quick, nervous nod, "Um, s-s-sure?" She's relieved the man isn't angry at her asking so many questions.

Armaros smiles gently, and nods. "Remember when I said the Dreamtime is moulded by mortal thought? There have been many, many mortal cultures and civilizations. All have different names for the same things. So to some mortals, my siblings and I were called 'Prometheoi.' To others, we were Anansi.

"But there are a few things that are constant. There are two broad types of beings, Mikal. There are mortals -- like you, Raphael, and your companions. You were born in the Waking, you eventually age and die, and in time reincarnate. Then there are aethyrs, like myself. We live in the Dreamtime. We are eternal, but we have been moulded by epochs of mortal ideas and thought. Not so much anymore, but we have changed over time, slightly. We do not die, though we can be harmed and rendered incapacitated, for a time or permanently."

Mikal nods slowly, listening.

"'Aqal' is the name for the spider-wasps, and it comes from an ancient word meaning 'destroyer.'

"You are in the Dreamtime now. It is the realm of ideas, of concepts, of spirit, and, of course, dreams." He points back across the grey ocean. "Out there, that is the Mirror. It is what is between the Waking and the Dreamtime. What is in the Waking is reflected into the Dreamtime, and what is in the Dreamtime is reflected in the Waking. It is in the Waking that your physical bodies are.

"As for Myrddin," he starts to say, then hesitates. "Well. I should not speak for him. He has lived many lives and had many names, and some lives he has preferred over others. Some have caused him great pain. I imagine he rattled off all those names just in case you recognized any of them, but that would not be likely. He is a good man, though, Mikal. He is merely trying to make right the errors of his past. And like many mortals who have lived as long as he has, he feels there is much he must make up for."

Norris did not know exactly when he awoke. For a time, in the space between sleeping and waking, he thought, perhaps, this whole altercation with khidra and Myrddin and spider-wasps was, itself a dream. It would be easier if it was. And when he awakens next to the sleeping Jareth, he thinks, perhaps, it was only that. After all, the house still looks like any other house. But then he picking himself up and wanders outside, where he sees Mikal and Armaros talking...for a long time, he says nothing, just listening.

Norris thinks, in response to Armaros's words about Myrddin...this seems to fit well with the sense he got about the man, with his manner and the way he carried himself around Norris and his friends. But as the man so wisely says...it's Myrddin's story to tell, or not. And then he finally does speak up. "Y'haven't said where all th' other people are, fightin this war..." he ventures, not giving thought to the grim notion in his mind...that maybe there aren't that many left at all, and that's part of why things have gotten so bad.

Armaros looks up, and smiles to Norris. "Ah, good morning, Norris. Mikal has some food out here for you, if you wish some." His expression fades a little. "As for other fighters... there are not that many. As I said, the Architect... he does not like mortals taken out of their world-shards and dreamscapes. He reacts violently if it happens too often. And besides... many worlds have already fallen to the spider-wasps.

Norris comes over to be close to Mikal, giving her a reassuring squeeze. "This yere Archeetect sounds like lak a real charmer." he murmurs dryly, getting just the bad answer he expected, but staying strong and steadfast for the sake of his friend.

Mikal is half speaking to herself as she ponders things, although Norris gets a bright, relieved smile from her when he emerges, and she'll reach a hand up to draw him down next to her. "So, um... so if we dove through the waters of the mirror we'd be in... in the waking? We'd be able to see what you say are our 'real' bodies?" She shakes her head, "I d-don't mind Myrddin -- I j-just didn't know what to make of him, you know?"

Mikal flinches slightly at the news of the Architect being annoyed, saying in a small voice, "S-so... s-s-so we have to watch out for him as well as the spiders?"

Armaros considers. "Perhaps. It would be difficult to perceive the Waking as you are now. the soul was never meant to exist in the Waking as it exists in the Dreamtime. You might catch glimpses of the Waking. Or you might simply wake up."

At mention of the Architect in such tones, he smiles gently to Mikal. "And do not fear the Architect, Mikal. He would have made his displeasure known well before now."

Mikal gives a small, gusty sigh of relief, leaning into Norris' sturdiness for comfort. "Oh. Uh -- uh, g-good then... yes?" She takes a deep breath, then adds worriedly, "So can we... is there something we can do to help our world dream shard scape whatever thingie?"

Norris squeezes Mikal's shoulder. "Well, ah spect we might haveta go somewhere to train first, yeah? Ah mean...makin tea and birds feathers is neat n' all...but don't spect that do much to bring down spider-wasps, annat."

Mikal confesses in a small, fearful rush, "Oh, Norris... I don't see what we can do at all to stop things that eat entire worlds!" She shivers, pressing up against him and Raphael as if she were cold.

Armaros smiles gently. "Training here is typical of mortals. As for fighting the spider-wasps.... Well. I have heard of rumors of ways to destroy them. Some have been killed with weapons that predate the war. There may be others outside the walls who have more knowledge regarding them."

Mikal wails quietly, "Th-then why are we here?!"

Norris hugs Mikal firmly. "Not sure that matter' much, Mikal. We're here now...and we gots ta do what we gots ta do. Just lak we did when they tol us to be monster hunters. Lak ah said before...all tis is different kinda monster. What we doin' aint changed, only th' place an th' battlefield." He looks at her seriously. "Sides...better t' act than do nothin', now that we know, hey?"

Armaros's smile disappears. "Mikal. I do not have an answer as to why you are here. But as I said, I do not believe in coincidence. The sapling eventually grows into the mighty redwood. Everyone must start from somewhere."

Mikal gives Norris a shaky nod, although her eyes are getting bright with tears again, then looks at Armaros. She's trying to casually cling to Norris, without being too obvious about it, as she quavers to the immortal, "S-s-s-so we, so w-we n-need to find out why we're here first then? How d-do we do that, please?"

Armaros says gently, "I would begin by speaking to whomever you can here. There are those who are more skilled in the subtle arts than I am."

Mikal says, "W-what are th-the subtle arts?"

Norris is quiet for the moment, simply providing stability for his friend...though to be honest, he's not coming up with much in the way of questions, either.

"Magic, religion, soothsaying, those sorts of things. I fear I am only passingly familiar with them myself."

Mikal looks puzzled, "I don't -- why would we -- I mean, if it's our -- our thoughts that affect the -- that affect here, why would we talk to magicians? W-wouldn't we want to do like N-norris said and puh-practice thinking hard more?"

Norris considers. "Ah think...it's about method, Mikal."

Mikal says, "W-what?"

Norris tries to explain what he sees clearly in his head. "Yew could try t forge a sword, in yer haid, fer example. But maybe that's real hard. Cause yew know what a sword looks lak, but not how it's made. Might be that thinkin aint enuff...yew need to learn the ways to think usin methods what's already proven. Like forging t' make a sword, or cuttin an sawin and hammerin t' make a house."

Armaros says patiently, "Because dream-weaving is not the only thing that can be done in the Dreamtime, and it cannot do everything."

Mikal says, "Oh."

Mikal shivers slightly, then glances at Raphael and says a little wistfully, "Could I... could I change my shape?"

Armaros considers thoughtfully for a long few moments. "Eventually... yes, I'm sure you could. But it would not be easy."

Norris blinks at his friend's question. "Why would yew wanna do that, Mikal?" he queries.

Mikal smiles with slightly wistful affection at Raphael, who's busily licking clean his clawed paw-hands and his chops after his slightly messy meal. She murmurs softly, "I always wanted t-to be... to be as strong and confident as the big folks, Norris..." she turns to look at the large young man, adding, "Like Raphael and you. You all never seem afraid."

Armaros adds, "There are some in the Courts who make sport of changing their shape, and are quite good at it. You may wish to ask them." He pauses, then adds, "But you should be... somewhat prepared to be startled. I get the impression that, while not prudish, your upbringing has not been one of decadence, and some of the more skilled shapechangers of the Courts are, shall we say politely... just that sort of people."

Mikal blinks at Armaros, her confusion utterly unfeigned, "What sort of people?"

Armaros purses his lips, "The kind of people who... shapechange for personal enjoyment or pleasure. Mind you, I am not saying it is a bad thing, it just may... startle you, somewhat."

Mikal looks more confused, "B-but, but isn't that what I want too? T-to shapech-change to f-f-feel better?"

Norris blinks at Mikal, and cant help but look flustered. "Caint really help the strong part, Mikal. Always been strong whether ah wanted to or not. An as fer afraid...ah do get scared, sometimes. Mostly when ah worry about yew....r' about Jareth, after he's been upta mischief, and someone gets a lil too mad..." He trails off, not sure how to go on about that. Already, it seems like that life no longer has meaning...no more keeping Jareth safe from angry fathers. No more sharing a fire and listening to Mikal go on about the adventures she and Raph had together. Even when they were monster hunters, it was simply an outgrowth of an extant life. Now it's all different. ALl they have to ground themselves is each other.

Mikal closes her hands tightly around Norris' arms, where he's wrapped them about her, and says a little shakily, "Y-y-you g-get scared too, Norris?" She sounds like she's unsure whether to laugh or cry for a moment -- then she reaches up and touches his cheek, "D-don't be scared. You're my rock, Nor. If you want, I'll t-t-t -- I'll try to be a rock for you too?"

Armaros says gently, "Mikal... let me first say that you do not need to shapechange to be strong. Even if you turned yourself into the spitting image of a worldstalker dire wolf, it is who you are that matters more. You can be as strong as you need to be, just by being yourself.

"As for the 'recreational' shapechangers, well... ah, I presume (and hope) that your parents spoke with you about love and sex?

Norris Seems embarassed by her touch...but he doesn't shy away, and only smiles at Mikal. "We'll always be 'ere for each other, Mikal. That won't never change." he promises.

Mikal smiles a little shyly at Norris -- then when Armaros speaks she blinks and turns her head to him. At his question she shakes her head, "M-m-my m-m-m-mmm..." She cuts herself off with a gulp, then says very carefully and steadily, "I kn-know about mating, yes."

Norris blinks, looking at Armaros again, trying to catch up with what was being said. "What does shape-changin haveta do with sex, hey?" he queries, looking utterly perplexed. No imagination in this regard, he.

Armaros nods, and plunges forward, in part to distract Mikal. "Yes. Well. Ah... mating feels nice. It's enjoyable, even when the goal is not to produce young. Some people at the court have refined their shapechanging skills to enjoy sex in different and novel ways. I say this not to be a prude, but to let you know ahead of time that if you seek out their instruction in shapechanging, they might have... somewhat, uhm... startling examples of their skills."

Mikal tilts her head a bit curiously at Armaros -- she's a country girl, after all -- and inquires, "S-so you don't mate? Immort- er, aethyrs don't reproduce?"

Armaros shakes his head. "Oh, no. We... we CAN mate, but we do not reproduce. We cannot. Good heavens, Mikal, if we could reproduce as well as live forever? My, my. I daresay the spider-wasps wouldn't be a problem because there'd be so many of us that we'd simply have no room for them!"

Mikal looks more puzzled, "Wait. Does that mean... the spider-wasps are a natural occurrence because there are too many world dream scapes for the, uh... whatever here is called again?"

"Er... no. I was trying to make a joke. I apologize."

Norris blinks at this idea, that people might change shape to explore different ways of having sex...his face eventually turns beet red as he decides this is a topic for another, much later time. He'd barely been having success stealin time for a few kisses with a few of the curiouser and more bold girls in the village, thanks to Jareth's assistance. So he focuses on Armaros's divergent topic. "So there's never been any more of y'all than those what existed from the beginning of time? Or are more a you folks made other, less common ways?"

Mikal says, "Oh, okay." She glances back at Norris, not quite sure why he's changed colors, and blinks, "Whoa. That's a good question!"

Norris shrugs. "Ah get wunna those, every now an then." he drawls, playing it off, but curious at Armaros's answer.

Armaros looks a little sad. "There were many more at the very beginning. Between the turning of the ages, and the war... there are fewer now. Once my sibling Anansi and I numbered two hundred. Now I know of -- perhaps -- a dozen. Once there were many Thrones of Death, shepherding those who had died to Sheol, ensuring that the cycle of reincarnation continued. Now there is only Raven. Likewise, the Thrones of Life; only Aurora remains and nobody knows where she is."

Mikal grins at Norris' reply, leaning comfortably against him as she listens.

Norris looks... well, not aghast. But certainly troubled by this information. "So it's not just mortals yew's short on, then." he murmurs.

Mikal looks puzzled, "So... how do folks dying in all the dreamscapes go to..." She pauses, frowning thoughtfully, then amends, "Wait, is Sheol just for here?"

Armaros shakes his head to Norris, then looks confusedly to Mikal. "How do you mean?"

Mikal says, "W-well, how could, I mean, um... if there are multiple dreamscapes, and lots of folks in each of them, then doesn't that m-mean there are an awful lot of folks? A-and when we die in the d-dreamscapes, d-do we go to Sheol then? And here as well? And when we're really awake? S-so how could only one person, no matter how magical, keep track of all the folks aborning and dying?"

Mikal adds a bit wistfully, "S-s-sooo... the priests were wrong about the One? There is no heaven for us when we die?"

Armaros ahs, and says, "I do not understand how Raven does her work as the Throne of Death. Being a throne means being an embodiment of something primal, something... beyond most peoples' ken. I only know that she is at each person's death, and she takes them to Sheol. And it is to Sheol that any mortal goes, if they die outside their dreamscape or in the Waking. Within your dreamscape, your soul does not really die, it only takes on a different mask."

Armaros arches a brow. "And... could you elaborate on this 'One' you speak of?" The tone of his voice has changed to a slightly neutral tone.

Mikal glances hopefully at the young man she's curled up against, "Norris, can you tell him? I, um..." she looks a bit guilty, "slipped out during mass a lot..."

Norris grimaces. "Well, ah aint no preacher, but...the One is, uh..God, ah guess. E' watches over us, tells us what t' do an what not t' do. E' offers rewards after death ifn yer good...an it's pretty much strongly suggested that yew be good."

Armaros listens silently, holding his chin thoughtfully. After Norris explains, he nods slowly, then actually grimaces uncomfortably. "The One. It must be Elaldabaoth. To answer your question, Mikal, there is no 'heaven' as you were told, but there is an afterlife which is most definitely not fire and brimstone .... unless you make it that of yourself."

Mikal nods, listening silently, then shyly adds, "Th-the priest was nice."

Mikal gives Armaros a confused look, "If we can make a hell for ourselves, why can't we make a heaven too?"

Norris says, "So as an all seein, all knowin watcher up above, e's not that bad. Ah mean, caint really argue with th' merit o' bein good, hey?"

Armaros's expression becomes a little more gentle. "Of that I believe you, Mikal. I am glad to see that his clergy may be more gentle now than how they once were. And that is exactly what I mean. It is not a monolithic heaven, nor is it an all-consuming hell. The afterlife is what your soul will make of it. At least, as Raven tells me."

Mikal nods at Norris' words again. She's not sure why Armaros wants there to be no heaven, or what exactly Sheol is... but she's not sure she likes it much from what he's described of it.

Armaros takes a slow breath, and lets it out. "Yes. There is absolutely nothing wrong with being 'good' and living for others. I only wish... that Elaldabaoth had held stronger to that, in ages past."

Mikal stares bemusedly at Armaros, a small frown on her face. She says a bit flatly, "You're saying we're worshipping the Architect, aren't you... that we're praying to the bad things."

Norris blinks at Mikal, and has not made that connection...but then, MIkal always was mentally quick.

He shakes his head. "Not the Architect, no. But a power which...." He pauses, and considers his words carefully. "Long ago," he says slowly, "there were some aethyrs whom the Architect allowed to take a more leading role over mortals, to be stronger guides and teachers and leaders. These aethyrs became known as powers, and were worshipped as gods. In time, one became more predominant -- not because he was more powerful, but because there were more mortals who worshipped him zealously. This power was Elaldabaoth.

"But because so many mortals worshipped him, that meant that there were many, many ways in which he was worshipped. Do you remember my words, about how mortals could mould the dreamtime?"

Norris only nods, fascinated by this story.

Mikal frowns, thinking about that. "So... we were worshipping someone like you?"

Mikal says, "Did we make him stronger than all the others?"

Armaros nods. "Like me, in that he was an aethyr, but unlike me in that he had much more power over events in the Waking. And yes. Mortals made him stronger, but also contributed to what happened next. It was not mortals' fault entirely, however. At any time Elaldabaoth could have stepped back from being a power, could have more closely managed himself so as not to become... the way he did. But he did not. He had inherited the Architect's pride, and thought himself, truly, the greatest of the powers.

"Elaldabaoth became torn, confused, driven in wildly different directions. He managed to retain his consciousness, but at the cost of his stability. The war that Myddrin and I have spoken of.... It was the breaking point for Elaldabaoth. He waged war against all the other powers in the cosmos. Many powers fell to him and his servitors. The legacy of the Godswar is what you see in the Mirror now: one single world, sundered into countless smaller shards. Shards which were just the right size for the spider-wasps to devour.

Norris's brow knits. "So yew'r sayin it's this Ela....Elal...it's this yere god's fault that we's having th' problems we is now?"

Mikal studies Armaros gravely for several long, slow moments... then she puts a steadying hand on Raphael and Norris before she takes a quick breath and does one of the bravest things she's ever done: confronting someone she knows is a Power. "S-so you're telling us it's -- it's b-because of your Architect and your people's pride that we're in this predicament?" She takes another breath, straightening, and her voice is almost squeaky with nervousness as she adds, "And -- and you want us to f-f-f-f-ix y-your mistakes?!"

Armaros looks hurt and pained for the first time the group has known him, and also a touch angry. "My mistakes? My pride? I swallowed whatever pride I had when I saw the Light, Mikal, and we tried to convince Elaldabaoth that he was going down an ill path but he would not listen. I am only Anansi, I am not a power like him. We argued with the Architect, fought his archons, were cast out of the company of those whom he trusted, lived most of the Four Ages as outcasts and in hiding, trying to help mortals in any way we could, and you say that we are proud?"

Mikal blinks and folds instantly at Armaros' upset -- she literally gives a squeak of fright and throws herself backwards over the startled Raphael, rolling to her feet and behind a tree in the same movement.

Raphael bounces up with his hackles rising and a guttural growl rumbling in his chest, although he's glancing around a bit bemusedly for whatever threatened Mikal.

Armaros sighs, and shakes his head. "I am sorry, Mikal," he says wearily and exhausted. "The weight of four ages gave my words bite when I should have taken no offense."

Norris was too slow to respond to unfodling events with any kind of speed...but when Mikal backpedals so fast she is literally falling back behind her guardian, he stands firmly between them. "hey now, S'aright, hey? Just a misunderstanding, yeah?" he drawls hopefully, trying to encourage calm.

There's a faint, frightened panting -- then utter silence from Mikal, as she draws on her training to move stealthily. A few seconds later her voice, high with nervousness, calls softly, "I uh later yeah hunting!" Raphael glances around at Armaros, his hackles still up but not growling any more. He gives Norris a quick nudge, then heads at a determined trot into the trees.

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Last modified: 2008-Oct-04 19:17:18

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