| Logs |
2008 October 19
| When The Bough Breaks |
| Realms |
Retired
| Reality Fault |
General Info
 |
| Realms: Bough Logs |
First Movement, Third Verse
Armaros sighs quietly as Raphael scampers off after Mikal. "You had best attend to Mikal, Norris," he says quietly, collapsing in on himself. "It would be better if you do so than I."
Norris looks unhappy, but cannot disagree. "Reckon yur right, Mr. Amaraos." He looks at the woods a little doubtfully. "Think ah need muh hammer?" he queries, not worrying about catching up with Mikal. Long legs, and all.
Armaros shakes his head, "There are a few smaller animals here but nothing large. The extensive forests are on the other side of the Palace." He stats to tiredly tidy up, taking up the food tray and flute and starting to bring them and the chair back inside.
Norris hates the emotional state he is leaving Armaros in...but his primary duty and loyalty is to Mikal. Besides that, hurt feelings can be mended after he's attended to Mikal. He sets after his two and four-legged friends at a jog.
Raphael scampers much like any other very large, dangerous predator: i.e. not very well. The big raptor-wolf's smooth, gliding run is slow enough for Norris to keep up, and he glances over his shoulder once or twice until he's sure Norris is staying with him well enough. After that he turns his focus to following Mikal's convoluted trail; she's clearly tangled it to make it a bit difficult for followers. Soon thereafter the two catch up with Mikal when she leans from behind a tree and waves to them, "Hist! Over here!"
Mikal gives Raphael a hug about his thick-furred neck, then smiles a bit shakily at Norris, "Are you all right?"
Norris looks uncertainly at Mikal, and then back towards Armaros's dissapearing figure. "Well, ah'll admit there wuz a moment when ah thought ah wuz gonna have to stop Armaros from gettin stupid-drunk in self-reecrimmination, but other than that..." he replied dubiously, still not understanding how Mikal ever thought the old man might be dangerous.
Mikal gives Norris a confused look, "What? What do you mean?"
Mikal is pacing along slowly through the woods, following a faint trail and looking around with interest as she talks.
Norris tilts his head. "Whut do yew mean? He wuzsn't gonna hurt enny of us." he replies in self-assurance.
Mikal tilts her head puzzledly at Norris, "What do I mean? I meant are you all right. Um... are you sure you're all right? You seem to be talking in circles?"
Norris pauses before speaking again, clearly muddled. "Ah guess ah just don understand why you might think I'd be not aright?" he explains. He thought he understood, but maybe he didn't.
Mikal says, "Well, Armaros talkedabout how dangerous Powers were when they were prideful and how they shattered worlds! So when he snapped at me and seemed to be getting angry, I thought it best to get out of there fast. Fortunately he seemed angry just with me, so I figured it would be all right to let you and Raphael follow at your own speed." She looks curious, "What happened?""
Norris nods slowly. "He looked sad. Ashamed of hisself. Suggested ah look out fer yew and started cleanin' up." He then adds, "Ah don think he's dangerous. Not lak yew say. Ah heard Myddrin talk 'bout him...Mr. Armaros wuz angry at Myddrin because he thought th' wizard had hurt us by takin' us int' this place. Ah don' think Mr. Armaros woul' hurt a fly, let alone us, whether r' not he issa Power."
Mikal frowns, thinking hard as she pads silently along the almost invisible pathway she sees. She moves with the easy relaxation of someone at home, weaving through trees and underbrush with unwitting grace. Finally she says slowly, "The people here we've met so far... they scare me, Norris. They're all so... so..." she frowns thoughtfully again, searching for words, and finally says almost incredulously, "fragile! I've never met people who fall apart quite so quickly when you ask them difficult questions, or aren't completely happy with them. Have you?" Her glance up at Norris is puzzled as she adds, "It's almost like... like they need us so badly, and have pinned all their hopes on us so completely, that the faintest hint of things not going the way they'd hoped makes them utterly sure they're completely doomed, you know?"
Norris opens his mouth to reply and then closes it as he walks along beside his friend. He is quiet, and troubled by his lack of a response...or rather, a counter to Mikal's words, to assure her that it is not so. But none comes immediately.
Mikal seems perfectly fine with walking in silence while Norris thinks; she's used to being alone but for Raphael, after all.
"Mebbe you's right, Mikal." Norris finally ventures after the better part of a minute. "But there also might be there's a reason f'r it."
Mikal gives Norris a bright-eyed, curious look, "Like what?"
Norris gestures, as if it helps him think. "Wal...there aint many folks what'r fighting th' battle left...either the people or th' immortals, lak th' Anansi. Once upon a time, war among th' immortals caused the world t' be prey to wasps. An when they tried t' recruit people t help, they weren't nice about it. Kept em here, forced them t' help. An by all acounts, things got worse, again cause o' their behavior. Now, those that r' left are tryin' to do things differently, fer one last ditch attempt t' do things right...an it's still not goin smooth, see? Wouldna you be frustrated?" he says slowly, but with growing confidence as the idea grows in his big head.
Mikal blinks up at Norris, "Who told you all that, Nor?"
Norris looks back at his friend. "Just goin by whut Mr. Armaros said. An Mr. Mryddin, a lil. Lots a little pieces, from all they's been tellin us, comin t'gether int' a whole. Lak spokes offa wheel."
Mikal adds with the aplomb of the young, "Sure -- but I wouldn't have been dumb from the very beginning. I thought everyone knows you train animals better with kindness than-" She cuts off, her expression troubled as she remembers some of the... less patient farming folk, and how they treat their livestock. She's silent for a few moments... then simply shakes her head once. She can't make things better for the poor animals, any more than she can for the people that were captured and imprisoned here previously. She looks back at Norris and nods seriously, "All right. Still, if you want to train animals you don't lose your temper with them because years ago your dog bit you, you know?"
Norris listens, nodding slowly in response. "But they aint people, Mikal. They's different. An maybe in their difference they wus..." he gestures again. "Prideful? Mebbe? Plus...iffn you can think tea int' existence, how much yew think these folk ever have t' do things th' hard way, lak we grew up doin?"
Mikal grins cheerfully up at Norris, "I meant people like us were the animals, Norris!" She adds, waving a hand forward, "Look, there it is -- the Palace! Let's go see what kinds of people there are there too, shall we? After all, the sooner we fix whatever we can, the sooner we can go home, right?" A little sadly she adds, "Not really much forest here... just a little grove."
Norris seems reluctant. "Yew think we should really be wanderin' off, without ah guide? Ah mean...we's visitors n' all. An if we're animals, lak yew say, then ah wouldn't care t' have some strangers leash us an put us inna cage over a misunderstandin."
Mikal grins cheerfully at Norris, "It's a... what's the word -- an example? A symbol? It's not the real thing, silly!" She breaks into a trot with one hand resting on Raphael's powerful neck, the big raptor wolf glancing up with lolling tongue as she laughs with him. She glances over her shoulder at Norris, face alight with excitement, "Well, come on then! Don't you like exploring, Norris? This is the best exploring ever -- no one from our village has ever been here before!"
Norris returns his friend's smile half-heartedly. He is not much of an explorer at all...he joined the monster hunters because he wanted to be useful, because he wanted to protect others. And now he is here without his hammer or even all of his friends together, exploring a place that is very different from his home. He hesitates in indecision, not wanting to quash Mikal's excitement, but worried about what lays beyond. And then he remembers what she said to him...that she would be strong for him, if he would be strong for her. "So finally he nods, even if it is with trepidation. "Aright. Ahm with you."
Raphael comes to a sudden halt, glancing off to one side with a snort. Mikal stands there too for a moment, as if she were listening intently to something... then she brightens, "Oh! Yes, please, bring him along too!" The big raptor-wolf darts off into the sparse copes of trees, and Mikal turns to Norris, happily informing him that Raphael's scented Jareth is finally up and wandering around. "Let's take him along, shall we?"
Norris seems more than a little relieved at the news...it assuages at least part of his concern. "By all means, yess'm."
A few moments later Jareth becomes visible between the trees, being amusedly nudged along by Raphael.
Mikal darts over to give Jareth a quick hug, "What good timing, Jareth! Norris and Raph and I were just going exploring -- want to come along?"
Jareth hugs Mikal back and drops a brief kiss on the top of her head, "Of course I want to come along." He snorts, "I thought for a bit that I'd lost you guys, despite all the reassurances."
Mikal starts to laugh -- then goes pale for a second. Her hands tighten on Jareth's shirt for a moment and she says a bit shakily, "No! Absolutely not, Jareth. I promise I'll come back to you all, even if we vanish for a bit in dreams."
At Jareth's expression from Mikal's outburst, Norris lays a massive paw on the other young man's shoulder. "Issa long story." he commiserates.
Jareth blinks a little and keeps hugging Mikal. He's seen her skittishness before and knows the best way to deal with it is to be calm and still for her, "Of course you will. We all will. I'm certain of that now."
Mikal takes a deep breath, then smiles up at Jareth more calmly. After that she tugs gently at both young men, "Come on! Let's go explore." She turns and darts off with Raphael, moving at a swift walk or a slow jog through the trees. Her path will effectively weave through the trees to circle the Palace as much as she can -- like a wary animal, she's checking out her intended target from cover before emerging to where she can be seen.
Circling the palace from the grove means coming around the front of castle from the side, still from relative cover, and very quickly the two see that there is a wide -- nay, wild -- diversity of people here, or at least what they assume are people. The vast majority of the people seem to come in one of two general styles; both are generally light of build, and with slightly but noticably pointed ears.
One group of them appears to have fair skin and golden blonde hair; their clothing appears to be light and airy in bright colors, sometimes bordering on the translucent but generally opaque. The ones who are armored, wear armor that is generally of silver- or gold-colored chainmail, with the occasional white-enameled plate or white brigandine.
THe other general group of these "elves" are of jet black skin and darker colors of hair. Their eyes are slightly larger, but pale, and they tend to wear slightly arker clothing; in particular they seem to favor their eyes, shading them with hoods or visors. In addition, where the lighter-hued elves tend to dress rather regally, these ones are more utilitarian and rough-and-tumble, though still of excellent quality; many of them seem to wear -- with pride -- the aprons of masons or smiths.
The elves all seem to be getting along; they talk, in pairs and in groops, with apparently no bias to one or the other. And there are some other beings besides, not as numerous as the elves, less recognizable but as different from the elves as the elves are to the three. Of these people, no one thing seems to identify them with each other, other than having one head, two arms, and two legs and being recognizably 'people.' Beyond that, there is a dizzying variety of colors and clothing amongst them.
Jareth flashes Norris a grin and says, "You can tell me the story later." He manages to appear to be casually strolling along as he follows the half-feral girl.
Mikal is in awe, stopping often to exclaim in soft wonder and stare quietly. "I've never seen anything like this before! Have you guys?" Raphael snorts, unimpressed, and she grins, ruffling his ears for a moment before going back to her astonished staring.
Norris, fortunately, is in excellent physical conditioning, so is not at all out of breath when he catches up with Mikal and Raph. While the expression he has on seeing these very different kinds of 'people' is not the wonder and awe of Mikal, he does look around at them dumbly, with interest in what they're about...particularly the ones that dress like smiths.
Jareth is grinning like a madman. He couldn't have dreamed something this amazing. The thought makes him laugh and he flashes his smile at Norris, saying, "It's like being in a story, isn't it? All we need is a damsel in distress and a kingdom to save... but we've got one of those already."
The Winter Palace itself is made from white gypsum, with seams between the stones that would make any stoneworker envious. It soars to a seemingly impossible height, an from the highest spires there are at least three large banners visible: a white-and-gold one, a black-and-silver one, and one in autumnal colors at the very highest of the spires. The palace is laid out in a complex pattern, seemingly at random and with flying buttresses and soaring columns. Much of the iconography implies winter scenes, with snow and ice, though the weather at the moment is like a day in late spring where there is just a hint of a nipping chill in the air.
Mikal giggles at Jareth, glancing over her shoulder for a moment, then looking back at the fantastic palace. After 20 minutes or so of carefully skulking around and fascinated staring, Mikal whispers to the others, "Do you suppose they know we're here?"
Thus far, nobody seems to have taken notice of the three; or if they have, they're going to or from some sort of appointments or important business.
Jareth stage-whispers back, "We could ask the next one to pass by if he noticed us before we spoke to him."
Norris is busy studying some of the mosaics laid into the walls, admiring the craftsmanship. "Iffn they are, doesn't seem they care that much." he murmurs.
Mikal giggles again in spite of herself, giving Jareth a light punch in the shoulder, "You're silly!" She takes a deep breath, then cheerfully adds, "Let's sneak out and see what the grounds are like!" Glancing around carefully, she picks a spot and a moment where no one seems to be around -- then flits out swiftly with Raphael to settle into cover by some decorative shrubberies. From there she peeks around with bright-eyed interest, much like a nosy but feral kitten.
Norris watches Mikal's skulking figure dumbly from behind. "How's she think ahm conna sneak? Pick up a big ass rock an hide behind it as ah go?" he queries of Jareth. Indeed, he's not *that* clumsy, but he is...well, large.
The big raptor-wolf doesn't bother hiding, although he does tend to stick close to larger objects, sniffing around them curiously.
Jareth moseys along after her. He's looking around with frank interest. Norris' sally makes him throw his head back and laugh, "You u could walk behind me and I'll dazzle people with me unspeakable charms."
There's a hastily stifled giggle from the shrubberies!
Norris seems to take Jareth's offer in stride, as if he was serious. "Worth a try, ah spose."
While Mikal bounds neatly and quickly and with a mininum of fuss into the shrubberies, Norris and Jareth both try to be stealthy but it's pretty clear that they don't do so well, considering that more than a few people happen to glance their way. Nobody stops, however, as they seem to be quite busy.
When he sees he's been noticed, Jareth winks at one of the elves and waves cheefully. And then promptly discontinues stealth.
Norris is not so blind as to notice that people do see him. "This is silleh." he notes, and as Jareth seems to have realized that himself, stops trying to look like he's skulking.
Mikal watches with almost breathless interest to see what the folks here do. She's a bit surprised at the almost total non-reaction. Hm... could Armeros be that different from these folks?
Norris does move closer to one group of people, however, clearly curious as to what folks could be talking about. People seem to be awful calm what with world eating spider-wasps, and all.
The elf -- a slender fighter-type, apparently, to judge by the mail and the elaborate curved sword -- looks confused as if wondering if they know Jareth, but he waves as he continues on with his business.
From their vantage point, they can see the front of the castle a bit better. There is a massive arched gate, and the numbers of people in the plaza don't do justice to the numbers who are thronged within the archway, talking, walking, or passing through. There are at least a dozen guards arrayed beside the gates to either side, wielding elaborate halberds or spears.
Norris maneuvers a little closer to one group; the conversation is relatively calm, but there is an underlying tension in their words.
"I understand that Mordred is on the move," one says, one of the light-elves, a merchant or artisan by her robes. "The Grand General has sent out scouting parties, and dispatched an emissary to the Sphinx."
"I would hope so," her companion, one of the dark-elves, replies. He is a smith, by the look of his leather apron; but it is virtually immaculate, and the tools at his belt are of extremely high quality and of no materials Norris has every seen. "But yes, this is not welcome news. Blasted nihilist...."
"Do you think he'll come here?"
"Where else will he go? He wants to shatter the Mirror, the Nether take him, and it's not like he can go to one of the other three palaces or breach the wall in between."
Mikal's eyes widen -- a sphynx?! How wonderful! She wonders what a Mordred is, though.
To Norris's eye, the dark-elf's tools are most definitely blacksmithing tools, and cunningly made; no mere iron implements are these. He doesn't get it but he thinks one of the smaller shaping hammers actually has a gold head, which makes no sense considering how soft gold is.
Jareth, encouraged by the return of the wave, trots toward the elf that waved back, calling out, "Pardon me! Do you have a second?"
Mikal blinks startledly at Jareth's boldness, then whispers in Raphael's mind, [Stay near him, please Raph, in case the stranger is hostile?] She wriggles a bit to see better, in case Jareth needs back up.
The soldier pauses, not quite coming to a halt in military style but stoping to turn to Jareth. "Certes," she says in a polite tone. "What can I do for you, squire?" Her accent is strange, certainly hard to explain: a number of down-tones at the ends of words accompanied by an almost musical quality.
Norris is distracted at first, in fascination at both the craftsmanship and the incongruity of the tools the dark skinned elf carries. He's heard tales of steel from travellers, but even his Master did not know the secret to its making. But this would seem to be something completely else that even steel. And then the other things he ehars starts to sink in, and his brow knits in worry...some of these terms are alien, but others fit in with the bits and pieces he'd collected from listening to Armaros. So there is worry, even among this seeming tableau of calm and normalcy.
The goatherd is still grinning, "You've got a wonderful voice, you know? Anyway, we're a bit new here and things are a little confusing. Is there anywhere we ought to avoid in the palace? Or anything you'd recommend we definitely see?"
The soldier arches a brow at the compliment, and smiles quietly. "Ah, new here. That's a touch apparent. Well, then, welcome to the Winter Palace. There's naught you should directly avoid, other than going outside the gates. It's the Wyrd beyond, and fair dangerous. If you're new you should go see Armaros, he's fond of mortals and would be better able to give you the lay of the land, but if you're asking me, you should see the Thrones Court at some point."
Norris looks over and notices Jareth making contact with another...not surprising, considering the man's gregariousness. For himself, he's slower to ingraciate himself with neighbors and known people, much less with strangers. But his curiosity is killing him. "Excuse me please, sirrah." he says to the elf, sounding apologetic for interrupting the conversation. "Is that hammer really made of gold? An if it is, is it magic gold?"
Mikal listens and watches her more gregarious companions with a sort of awed astonishment -- she could never walk up to someone like that! At the news about the Wyrd and the Thrones Court she looks fascinated; she loves visiting new places.
Jareth chuckles, "We've met Armaros already. And Myrddhin. And his flying friend. What exactly is the Thrones Court?"
Both elves look at Norris curiously; the dark elf starts to ask, "What kind of--"
"Pietr," the light-elf says easily, "be gentle. He's mortal, I thnk. I think I saw Virgil fly in with him and a few others just after Turning."
"Pietr" blinks, then relaxes, smiling a bit. "Ah, I see. Then in answer to your question, yes, it is gold, made fast with awen and enchanted, and thus used only for certain shapings. It was a gift to me from my master, the blacksmith Halldora the Thunderhammer."
Meanwhile, the soldier smiles wryly, nodding. "Ah, Myrddin. An unusual sort, that one. As for the Thrones Court, it is where the Thrones of Dream hold court: Mara Sith, Freyr, and Elbrecht."
Mikal makes a mental note: must visit the Thrones of Dreams! If anyone would know how to fix dreams, she'd think it would be them.
Jareth says, "I don't suppose you'd have leisure to show strangers around? If not now, perhaps later?"
The soldier shakes her head. "I'm afraid not, squire. I'm carrying a message to one of the outer towers outside the wall, and it isn't entirely safe for someone who does not expect what's out there."
Norris looks so pleased that his guess was even partly right. "Thank yew sir...just confused me some, seein gold onna shaping hammer." he replies gratefully. And just when folks think that's the end of the conversation, he gets that look on his face again, his head tilted like a querying dog. "How d' you hammer with thunder? Or is that held into a shape with magic too, mebbe?"
The artisan looks like she's stifling a giggle, while Pietr blinks, his smile frozen. "Ah. She is called that because she was the lead smith in crafting the Spear of Thunders, which is carried by one of the General's champions."
Jareth nods and says, "I'd love to hear your stories about it sometime... I'm Jareth." He's not exactly pouring on the chrm, but he is giving her one of his best smiles. It never hearts to put your best foot forward.
Norris looks very confused now. "So...th' spear's made of thunder, an not th' hammer?" he queries for clarification. What amazing smiths, that they can make weapons out of sound!
Pietr looks rather proud. "Oh, yes. There's not been anything made quite like it in... in...." He frowns a bit, glancing to the woman. "Well. I don't believe anything like it has been made since the Godswar. But I could be mistaken."
The soldier laughs, and inclines her head. "Captain Vigdis. Pleased to meet you Jareth. Have you been here long?" She doesn't seem to be in quite a huge rush just yet.
Raphael idly sniffs around near Jareth, then apparently decides there's no threat and wanders off, continuing to sniff curiously at everything.
Norris does look awed now. "Wow. Aint never heard of stuff made o' magic metal an thunder. Yew must have some amazin' smiths here, sirrah. Ah hope one day ahm half as good as y'all." he murmurs. "'E wuzn't kidding about th' forges in th' castle, seems to be."
Jareth nods, "The pleasure's mine. We've been here... You know, I'm not sure how long we've been here. Time seems a little strange and I sort of wandered off for a while. How long do you expect your errand to take? Armaros is a nice guy, but I'd like to hear about this place from someone that's intimately involved in it."
Mikal wonders thoughtfully if there are other raptor-wolves around here, since no one's reacted to Raphael. That would be a good thing for sneaking around, of course. Then again, maybe the shapeshifters change so much that any shape is accepted. That'd be even better for sneaking, she thinks with relief!
The elf artisan looks quite amused as Pietr seems to increase twice his size in pride. "As a mortal, I'm sure you will, but you'd of course be welcome to see how the dokkalfar work the forges below the Palace."
The soldier looks thoughtful. "Ah, the passage of time. I will not be back until the next Turning. However, if you go into the Palace proper and ask for seneschal Brehon Rowan, she will be able to help you, I believe. At the very least she can find someone other than Armaros to help you." She frowns a little. "Has Armaros treated you well? Usually he's so good with mortals."
Norris blinks. "Par'n me, sirrah...dokkalfar?" he queries, so apologetic for not recognizing local parlance. While he doesn't look exactly like a lost puppy, he does have this manner about him like...how can you hate this friendly, clueless fellow?
The gregarous herder nods, "Armaros was great, but he seems to have spooked one of my companions. From no fault of his own, mind you." He offers his hand, "Thank you for chatting with me. I hope I see you again." The smile this time is a warm and quite inviting one."
Vijdis blinks. "Spooked? Ah. I'm terribly sorry for you. Normally he's very even-tempered. But he is a sensitive aethyr. The Godswar did not leave him unscarred."
Meanwhile Pietr looks confused again before he nods to himself. "Oh, yes, new arrival. I am sorry. I am a dokkalfar. My companion here is Magus Reflinde, and is a ljosalfar.
Mikal slides up behind Norris, leaning against him and peering out from behind him as she whispers, "Dark elf and light elf, Norris."
Jareth nods and chuckles, "He was very even-tempered. Mikal is just a little taken off-guard right now."
Norris is relieved when Mikal explains that, as he was just about to ask if the term referred to profession of the whole...long ears thing. "Thankee...ma'am." he drawls to her, surprisingly relaxed enoguh to make jokes with her again.
Norris looks back at the two elves regarding him. "Can a fella just go down to see th' forges, ma'am and sirrah? Or do one haveta have special permission, like?"
Mikal blushes, holding onto the back of Norris' shirt with one hand and pulling back enough that the two elves can only see one storm-gray eye peeking shyly out at them. "J-just... just Mikal's fine, Nor!"
Pietr half-leans a bit to the side to spot Mikal, and blinks a little, then smiles genuinely, bowing a little. "A pleasure to make your acquaintence, Mikal." The magus, inordinately amused, also bows politely. Pietr looks to Norris. "I would suggest asking to have the seneschal's staff arrange it first, -- I beg your pardon, Nor, was it? It can be a little dangerous down there. I am sure that you as a smith know this, but I would suggest going with someone first."
Vijdis nods a litle. "Yes, I can imagine that it's very disconcerting. I do hope he's all right" She glances past him, smiling a little. "Or her, I should say. Are those your companions speaking with Pietr and Reflinde?"
Mikal doesn't quite flinch back behind Norris' broad back; she manages a tiny, polite nod to the two strangers. Norris can feel her grip on his shirt tighten with nervousness, but she does hold her ground.
Jareth glances over his shoulder to confirm it, then nods, "That would be them. The shy one's MIkal. The big one's Norris. The furry one's Raphael."
Mikal takes a quick breath, then adds, "N-norris! It -- it's Norris, not Nor!" She adds softly, "Sorry, Norris."
Vijdis gives a soft laugh. "She's cute. I hope she gets used to the Palace soon." Her smile warms, almost matching his, as she shakes Jareth's hand, "I look forward to seeing you soon... Jareth, was it? Please excuse me. I really do have to go to the outer tower."
Meanshile, as Raphael sniffles along, he is garnering not a small bit of attention. Another robed elf -- this one a dokkalfar -- is apparently attempting to have a conversation with him, to which Raphael is watching him quite curiously.
Norris smiles at the two elves. "Don't worry none about t' hiding huntress. SHe's protective of me." he assures the others at her outburst, trying to bow back a little at these polite folks. "An yeah, that do make sense...don' even have muh apron, though ah spose th' armor protect from sparks well 'nough. So where does a fella find this yere seneschal staff, hey?"
Jareth nods and gives Vijdis' hand a final squeeze before letting go, "Safe journey, Captain." He nods and aunters over toward his friends, whistling to himself.
Norris reaches back and squeezes Mikal's shoulder with affection and reassurance.
Pietr blinks, looking at Norris's tunic as if for the first time and the armor that is barely concealed under the armor. He frowns a little, leaning forward to sniff a bit.
Mikal blushes again at Norris' comment, internally relieved he doesn't seem to mind her being there. She pats his hand lightly, pleased -- then glances over at Raphael's curiosity. At sight of the dokkaelfar she covers her grin with one small hand. She hesitates, debating losing the safety of Norris' solidity... then decides she and Raph can always dive for cover if necessary. She steps over lightly, her wide eyes cautiously wary, and puts her arms about Raphael's neck, unwittingly keeping him between her and the elf. Her voice is soft, and she can't quite meet the elf's eyes as she murmurs, "Raphael can't talk, but he says you smell nice."
Mikal wishes she had her cloak with her, so she could pull her hood up. She brightens at the sudden remembrance of what she'd done with the tea, and concentrates for a moment: she'd like her cloak here on her, please!
Mikal looks chagrined as nothing happens, then leans her face into Raphael's mane. She's too spooked by all the new folks, she knows -- that must be it. She never was good at focusing when scared by people, as her daddy always told her.
Mikal hopes the dokkaelfar doesn't laugh at her and Raphael. Umm... maybe they should just sneak away.
Jareth heads for Mikal, since Norris usually does well on his own.
Mikal feels that she could almost, almost get it... but for some reason she can't focus enough. Perhaps it's the way the dokkalfar is smiling to her with those odd yet open pale eyes. He bows politely to her. "I was wondering how I might converse with him, but a more welcome intermediary I could not have hoped for. Magus Skallagrimson, at your service, Miss...?"
Pietr blinks. "Ah. Iron, then? Cold iron?"
Mikal stutters inadvertently at the direct comment to her, "M-m-m-mmmm-" She takes a deep breath, her eyes widening nervously, and stares fixedly at Raphael's mane. Her voice comes out in an embarrassing squeak, "Mmmikal!" which causes her to blush and cover her mouth again.
Mikal starts to lean nervously away from the courteous aelfar despite herself.
Skallagrimson seems to take no notice of Mikal's nervousness. "A pleasure to meet you Mikal. And this is Raphael, you said?" He seems to say that as if one would be asking after a relative or friend, rather than a pet of some kind.
Jareth lays a hand on Mikal's back when he gets close, wanting to reassure her.
Mikal nods several times for emphasis to Magnus, not quite trusting herself to speak again. At the unexpected touch on her back she jumps and squeaks startledly again, whirling to see what's behind her -- then she turns bright red and looks down, "S-s-sorry, Jareth."
Pietr looks mildly relieved. "Ah, my apologies. I thought I had smelled iron upon you. Iron and we do not do well together. Though dokkalfar can mine it and work it, it has dolorous effects upon alfar when we are struck with it."
Jareth grins down at Mikal, used to her skittishness... he actually finds it sort of cute. "It's OK." He smiles to the elf, "Sorry to interrupt."
Mikal blinks, remembering the elf, and darts behind Jareth.
Skallagrimson smiles kindly. "My apologies for startling you, Miss Mikal." He inclines his head to Jareth, still smiling pleasantly and taking a half-step back. "No worries at all. You are all new to the Palace?"
From behind Jareth, Mikal's head can be seen nodding again at the question. Her expression (although they can't see it) is quite rueful.
Jareth reaches back with one hand, looking to give MIkal a reassuring pat, "We are. We're doing a little exploring. We keep getting told we're terribly important and exciting. But I sot of see it the other way around."
Skallagrimson chuckles softly. "Yes, I can understand that. Is there aught that I might be able to clear up for you?"
Raphael snorts amusedly and relaxedly reclines, then starts absently grooming his clawed paw-hands, using them to groom around his furry ears and his large teeth.
Mikal whispers to Jareth, "Ask him how we get rid of the spider-wasps, please! What skills do we need to do that?"
Jareth chuckles and shifts a little, rather enjoying having Mikal presed up against his back, "Well, we're trying to figure out how to get rid of the world-eating big nasties. I'm hoping it's as easy as making feathers."
Norris blinks...he's been sniffed before, but usually by Raphael, never by another person. "Really? Yer allergic to iron? How strange." he murmurs, disturbed by the idea. "But ah spose it donna surprise me y' smelled it...s' a good think ah left m' maul back at th' cottage. Taint nice t' be givin' people y' just met rashes." he drawls to Pietr.
Mikal closes one hand on Jareth's belt for reassurance, peeking cautiously around him the same way she had with Norris. One stormy-grey eye studies the elf hopefully as she waits for his answer. Unwittingly one hand comes up to her head, and her fingers gently stroke the pretty feather Jareth gave her that's tucked behind her ear.
Pietr nods, "A bit 'allergic,' you could say, yes. A holdover from a long ago age." He grins at mention of 'rashes.' "Thank you for your consideration. AS I said, we do work it, but we take precautions."
Ulfhilde makes a bit of a face. "You can work it, Pietr, I can't."
Skallagrimson nods to Jareth, looking thoughful. "Mmmm. There have been a few campaigns fought against the spider-wasps. But they were difficult. The one I know of, mortals had to quest for something... oh, what was it called... a 'lotus with a thousand swords for petals.' Artifacts -- weapons -- dating back to before the Godswar. Apparently one of those is one way to deal with a spider-wasp. Terribly inelegant, but it gets the job done."
Mikal blinks at the odd weapon description, then murmurs shyly, "Wh-what's an elegant way, s-sir, please?"
Jareth arches his brows, groping behind himself for Mikal's hand, "A quest, huh? Any idea what sort of weapons like that might be skulking around for the taking?"
Mikal's small, calloused hand slips neatly into his, and behind him she smiles, relieved he's not irritated by her being there.
Norris scratches his chin, looking very interested. "Iffn yew donna like t' work iron, what d' yew use? Copper? Silver? More magic gold? Or sommat else? Ah spect taint many weapons forged o' thunder th' way yew wuz talkin' about it..."
Mikal wonders a bit bemusedly what an "elegant" weapon is. Some sort of magical golden sword with jewels in its hilt, perhaps?
Skallagrimson is still thoughtful. "Well, 'elegant' would be something that could kill a spider-wasp without a mucking great explosion. I am certain there are ways -- I know of four spider-wasps which were successfully killed before their eggs hatched, and of them only one was destroyed by a 'lotus with a thousand swords for petals....'
Pietr considers for a moment. "Mmm. Bronze, silver, electrum, glass, and various minerals, and certain steel alloys. Also less mundane materials like whitbronze, sungold, blacksilver, siva amukti--"
Skallagrimson glances around, then spots Pietr. "Ah! He might know. Pietr! Oh master of the forge and pounder of the anvil, Pietr!"
Pietr blinks and glances over, then rolls his eyes a bit. "Gah. Skallagrimson."
Ulflinde giggles softly. "Now, now, Pietr. Be nice to my brother."
Pietr says, "I try to. Constantly. He seems to be talking to your friends, Norris. Come, let's join them."
Mikal blinks, unsure what is meant by an explosion. Like a big splash, maybe?
Mikal's eyes widen at another realization: the light elf just called the dark elf brother?! She thinks about that for a moment, her head resting against Jareth's back... then she smiles slowly, relaxing a little. So she's not the only one with unusual relatives! That's nice.
Norris follows in Pietr's wake obediently, more than happy to continue the conversation among his friends. And then he gets that cockeyed look again. "Wait, y' forge glass? How do you hammer...oh, wait. Yer just talking about meltin it and blowing it int' shapes, lak ah's told about they do inna big cities?"
Jareth squeezes Mikal's hand reassuringly and then reaches with his other hand to try and pull her arms around his waist. Easier to keep his own hands free that way.
Mikal is busy thinking, so it's easy for Jareth to encourage her to do that. She sighs softly, relaxing a little more and hugging Jareth -- he's warm and solid and doesn't seem to mind being clung to. The only other person she's known like that is her half-brother, Raphael. She reflexively wriggles a little closer, feeling much more comfortable.
As Pietr and the other ljosalf come over, Skallagrimson asks the dokkalfar smith, "Pietr, your master made that mucking great phallic symbol, didn't he?"
Pietr grimaces. "If you mean the Spear of Thunder, then yes. And I wouldn't let Captain Vijdis hear you call her favored weapon a 'phallic symbol.' What of it."
Skallagrimson ahs. "Well, you know weapons, then. Have you ever heard of how spider-wasps have been killed?"
Pietr gets an intrigued and thoughtful look. "Mmm. The Spear can deliver a finishing blow, but only during Cadence. And the spider-wasp has to be weakened enough by more conventional arms. Beyond that, I've heard of a circle of mages which takes an entire opus to build up enough energy to cast a spell that can destroy the mind of a spider-wasp."
Pietr's companion, ulflinde, nods, "Yes, I've a cousin in that circle."
Pietr nods, "Beyond that, there are other weapons besides that 'petard-with-the-too-long-name.'"
Skallagrimson says, correcting him, "'Lotus with a thousand swords for petals.'"
"Whatever. THere are others besides that but I'd be at a loss to name them. There'd be more information in the archives, I imagine, or in some of the caches in the Mirror or Wyld."
Mikal goes up on tiptoes to whisper next to Jareth's ear, "Ask what cadence is, Jareth! Please?"
Mikal says, "And a... an o-pus?"
Mikal adds in a sudden rush, "And ask about the mirror and the wild too -- I didn't realize they were... were... had holes in them you could store stuff in?"
Jareth's ears perk as he realizes the soldier he spoke with before seems to have some rank around here. He clears his throad and says, "What are cadences and opuses and so forth?"
Jareth grins and pets Mikal's hands, "And MIkal wants to know what the Mirror and the Wyld are."
Mikal ducks back behind Jareth's back with a nervous squeak, her arms starting to slide back so she can tuck herself up small behind her companion.
Ulflinde provides, "I'm sure time flows differently here than it does where you come from. There are eight 'hours' -- for want of a better term -- to a cycle. The moment one cycle goes into another is called Turning. Three cycles form a 'measure,' and seven measures form a phrase. Four phrases make a movement, and thirteen movements make an opus. The last cycle of an opus is called Cadence."
Skallagrimson laughs, and answers the second set of questions. "The Mirror is where the mortal dreamscapes are, where you came from. Before the Godswar, some mortals learned how to hide things in 'pockets' in the surface of the mirror, and we can reach those pockets from the Dreamtime.
"As for the Wyld, that is what lies outside the wall. Untamed, wonderous, magical... and a touch dangerous, getting more dangerous as one gets further from the wall. There are entire lost worlds far off in the wyld, but until they are found and paths made to them, they are little more than legends."
Jareth catches Mikal's wrists and keeps her hugged around him if she lets him.
Norris grins at Jareth. "Mebbe she shoul' just have her hand unner yer shirt, make like you's a dummy she talk through, lak that travellin performer we saw few weeks back..." he drawls, not unkindly as he notices what his friends are up to.
Mikal goes tensely still for a moment, shivering once... then goes bright red at Norris' comment and twitches nervously away from the little crowd of people, retreating to the nearest shrubberies.
Norris grimaces at his joke sends Mikal away. "Aw, MIkal, don' be skittish as a skwerl...didn't mean nothin..." he calls after her, not wanting to embarass her in front of strangers by bringing her back.
Ulflinde purses his lips. "A touch shy, is she?" she murmurs.
Mikal's voice trails back nervously from behind the greenery, "I um, I just, it uh... sorry!"
Jareth nods and grins, "Someone's got to balance me out."
Mikal crouches out of sight, biting her lip and wondering what she's doing. It's not like there's anywhere she can go... she needs to... to gather her courage together and... and go ba- er, at least listen and learn more!
Norris looks back at the others, embarassed for her sake. "Sorreh bout that, folks. Muh mouth doan always work at th' same time as m' brain. She might creep back iffn we give her privacy." he assures them in an undertone.
Mikal whispers to Raphael, [I wish you could ask questions for me, Raph. I want to know more about the Dream Thrones and the pockets in the wild and the mirror.] She sighs, wishing she were as brave as Norris and Jareth. It's scary how bold they are!
[Previous Log] [Index] [Next Log]