| Logs |
2009 June 08
| When The Bough Breaks |
| Realms |
Retired
| Reality Fault |
General Info
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| Realms: Bough Logs |
Fourth Movement, First Solo
After leaving the rakshasa and being shown to their quarters, Jareth lures Mikal into a private space to have some time alone enjoying their new relationship. He's not really aware that part of him is wanting to remind Mikal that he's her mate and wanting it to be fresh in her mind when the leader of the rakshasa comes to take her on the hunt. They have had just enough time to get themselves back together again when Ravana arrives, calling out quietly as he nears, as if not wishing to startle the mortals.Mikal hugs Jareth happily, whispering, "Have fun learning how to use that vajra thing, okay? If it works well for you, maybe we can get the one in Angkor Wat for you -- and that way you'll have a good distance weapon too, so you don't have to fight up close!"
Jareth smiles tenderly and kisses Mikal's temple, "Be safe, lapin. It would be good for me to be able to stay back, I know. I'm not skilled enough to be close up."
Mikal sighs happily, hugging tightly as she nuzzles Jareth -- she so loves the way he smells! -then giggles and adds, "Hey, I need to stay at a distance too -- there's no dishonor in that! And after we've hunted, maybe I'll have a nice skin for you or something. Oh! Also, don't forget: the rakshasa lord wants to talk to you at some point." With bemused amusement she adds, "Not sure why -- well, maybe he wants to compare notes on how to make mortal women happy or something? -but whatever!" She giggles, then pushes her bangs out of her face and gathers up her bow and pack, almost skipping out, "Hello! Is it time for our hunt?"
Ravana smiles at Mikal and bows, taking her hand to kiss her fingertips, "Indeed, Ninshubur. It is time for our hunt. Our quarry will be leopard tonight. The herd animals will be settling to rest and will not be much fun." His lips curl slightly as he catches her mate's scent, but does not chuckle. The fact that Jareth feels the need to mark her so tells Ravana much about the much-younger man. He stands and says, "I thought I might take the form of the tiger for the hunt. Will you be able to keep up, little rabbit?"
Mikal thinks about that, then steps back enough so she can look up without craning her neck. She says honestly, "I don't know, rakshasa lord. I don't doubt Wolf can, though." She thinks about it a moment, then grins, "We'll see, I guess!" She adds in explanation, "I don't know how thick or thin your woods are, compared to the one where I grew up."
Ravana chuckles and says, "Should you perhaps hunt astride one or the other of us, then?"
Mikal blinks startledly -- then looks quite intrigued, "I -- I never... wow! Would you mind? That'd be awful fun!"
Ravana's laugh is somewhat throaty, "I would be honored if Wolf would not be offended."
Mikal hastily makes sure her gorytus is covered and buckled down securely against her left side -- then beams excitedly up at the huge rakshasa, "If you don't mind, I'd love to! I'm ready when you are!" Raphael snorts in quiet amusement -- he knows how much Mikal loves being around animals instead of people.
Mikal grins cheerfully at the big raptor wolf, then adds to Ravana, "Oh, he's always telling me I'm too slow... and when I tease him about not being able to climb trees, he huffily reminds me he's not a monkey."
Mikal adds, "We work well together. His tracking nose and teeth, and my tracking eyes and arrows."
The lord of the rakshasa grins and the grin is very close to feral. "Neither am I, but I can climb trees. Even in my four-footed form." The laugh that comes then changes into a roar as Ravana's body shifts and twists, sprouting the lush striped pelt. He crouches, putting himself low enough to the ground for Mikal to be able to climb aboard his back.
Mikal looks a bit taken aback at the roar, but with Raphael standing next to her she's not afraid. She watches interestedly, remembering a heartbeat after the big tiger has crouched that she's supposed to mount up. She laughs delightedly at that, taking a moment to will her clothes to change -- and then she scrambles lightly up onto the massive tiger's back. Unwittingly she wriggles happily once she's in place, running her hands with pleasure through the thick, glossy, healthy coat -- then she leans flat over the massive shoulders and wraps her arms as far as they'll go around the heavily muscled neck, "All ready!"
Mikal is once more in her usual light decorated leather vest, boots, and arm bands, with loose linen britches tucked into the boots. Since it's so warm here she's mentally ditched the long-sleeved tunic -- and no one has yet told her she might want to make the light vest a bit more form fitting.
Ravana lets Mikal get herself settled, pleased that she is seeming less and less concerned about contact with him. Pushing up to his full quadrupedal heigh, the rakshasa shakes himself just a little to see how firmly seated Mikal is. They are going to be moving through rough territory, after all, and he doesn't want her to fall off too easily. Once he's satisfied, the monstrous tiger's muscles bunch and he leaps away, running toward the edge of the camp fast enough to make Raphael have to work to keep up.
The easy-going raptor wolf rolls his eyes amusedly -- what is it about males around Mikal lately feeling like they have to prove themselves so much? -but simply shakes his shaggy mane into place, then enjoyably stretches his legs as he gallops along after the tiger. He hasn't had a chance to do this in way too long, as far as he's concerned -- this feels wonderful!
Mikal gives a small, delighted squeak at the feel of all the power moving so smoothly and swiftly under her! She just clings for a bit... but eventually the sheer pleasure of the moment seduces her, and she sighs happily, running one hand along the thick, slightly coarse fur. To her this is almost a dream come true -- she can take a tiger along on hunts that her conscience wouldn't allow her to take Iron Antlers to.
After leaving the camp, the terrain becomes thickly wooded and lush, more jungle than forest, with plants and vines covering both the ground and the trunks of the trees. Some of the trees are enormous and some are oddly shaped, with bulging trunks or leaves shaped differently than Mikal and Raphael are used to. There are sounds all around of small animals, though many of them go silent in the wake of the tiger, the raptor-wolf and the woman.
(OOC) Mikal says, "G'night, Waya! Thank you so much! :)" (OOC) Jareth says, "Yay!" Raphael gallops easily along in the tiger's wake -- being a big male that's having way too much fun, Ravana's scent is astonishingly easy to follow. Mikal is simply enjoying the ride at this point, nearly awash in intense enjoyment of the moment: her eyes are sparkling and she's glowing with happiness. Eventually, though, something occurs to her, and she murmurs to the big tiger she's astride, "If the rakshasa are allergic to wood, how do you safely move through a forest, please?"
Ravana replies, "It is not easy!
Mikal giggles a bit in spite of herself at the amusing candidness of the huge tiger's reply.
Ravana replies, with surprising clarity, "It is not easy! A splinter is much worse for us than for mortals. So we must be very, very careful. Gloves are always worn, even over our claws, as are boots. So we are very careful overall, and we do not take a forest or a jungle blindly."
Mikal frowns, thinking... then leans out a bit, her hands firmly clenched in the heavy neck fur, so she can see the huge paws flashing back and forth below her. She doesn't remember booties on the tiger previously... is he really wearing some? And if so... how do they stay on the tiger paws?
Mikal's eyes widen as she notices the little leather straps about the thick ankles, holding the little leather booties on. She sits up startledly, swaying easily with the bounding gallop, as she thinks about that. How... silly looking! How... easy to fall off, too -- and the claws -- do they shred the leather? The rakshasa can't leave holes in the booties for the claws to emerge, though -- wood bits could get through those... but then... she shakes her head exasperatedly, her voice perplexed, "What sort of deity hits you with a curse like that?! That's like making you allergic to -- to water, or to air!"
Ravana says, "One that does not want us to become too powerful, I imagine. And I cannot say I blame them for that...."
Mikal says, "Yes, but how are you supposed to effectively defend against angels when something as -- as pervasive as wood is anathema to you?!" She sighs exasperatedly, leaning forward on the rakshasa's neck as she murmurs, "Well, at least salt is easy for you all to carry. You do all carry salt all the time, yes?"
Ravana's reply is almost apologetic, "We ran out, and the angels manage to foil our attempts at regaining a new source."
Mikal sits up in shock again, her voice uncharacteristically almost raised at the depth of her dismay, "What?!" She shakes her fistfuls of the thick fur -- if he's anything like the horses, raptor wolf, and fey stag she knows, he won't be hurt by it -- and snaps irritably, "This cannot be allowed to stand!"
Ravana replies, "I agree, Ninshubur, it is intolerable. Still, that is the way war goes, and we fight back as well as we can."
Mikal mutters irritably, and Raphael grins over the link. He's still a short distance away, since a) he's not worried about his half-sister's safety currently, while she's astride the biggest predator in this jungle, and b) he sees no reason to wear himself out so some silly male can puff himself up and prance around Raph's little sister going 'look at me, aren't I fine and fast and wonderful?!' Mikal abruptly blushes hotly and falls silent at that thought from her half-brother, flattening herself on the tiger's back again. Her voice is its usual soft tone as she asks, "So where are we headed, please? To the flat plain where most of the battles are initiated, or to the possible ambush forest?" She considers a moment, then hopefully adds, "May we go to the palace of Krishna too? I -- I would love to see that as well, if, um, if there's time?"
Ravana laughs, the sound growly and rough, "Another time! When I have had time to prepare. I came out tonight for hunting!" With that, the rakshasa whips around an ancient tree, head coming up, "And I think I scent good quarry!" He may not have been telling the literal truth about smelling a quarry, because he slides to a stop near another tree carefully snuffling at scratch marks up along the bark of it, slowly raising his head to look up through the branches.
Mikal pulls her bow reflexively at the comment about quarry, an arrow lying nocked across it but not yet drawn. She glances around thoughtfully, then slips easily off the huge tiger, padding silently over to examine the almost miniscule tracks that lead to the tree itself. If she were a sneaky tree climber, she sure wouldn't come down the way she went up... so her cautious, careful gaze is aimed a bit further out, towards the surrounding trees whose branches mesh with this one's, where they soar up through the incredibly thick underbrush. Hm... hunting again. She stays within a long leap of the tiger, making sure she checks overhead and behind as well -- her old habits are coming back hard and fast, and that pleases her internally.
The rakshasa's voice is low, "He's not here now, but there has been a leopard here, many times...." There's a happy sound in his voice, excitement rising through the words and he lowers his head, examining the surrounding forest floor for signs of the leopard coming to ground much further out along the branches of the tree.
The rakshasa watches the girl searching for sign around the tree and his enormous amber eyes glint. She looks much more at-home and much more relaxed than when he first approached her. He lowers his enormous shaggy head and snuffles carefully near the ground, whiskers twitching as he starts to spiral out from the tree.
Mikal frowns thoughtfully, passing on to Raphael, [I need the freshest scent you can find, big brother. I'm guessing leopard must smell something like tiger, but the picture I get in my head of what 'leopard' is says it's slightly smaller than me, weight-wise, but a lot more muscular and sharp-ended!] The big raptor-wolf snuffs slowly around through the underbrush surrounding the likely trees Mikal points out to him, as she stands upright to cover him, arrow nocked and ready but not yet drawn.
She brightens and trots over when he gives a small "whurf!" at some likely scent, bending down to check the pug marks to confirm as he stands guard over her. Soon thereafter the two of them are slowly and carefully following the tracks she's found. In the riotous growth of the jungle, scent dissipates far faster than tracks.
She turns at one point to make a small, carrying bird call towards Ravana. If the big tiger glances her way, she silently tilts her head in a 'this way!' gesture -- then goes back to tracking with the big raptor wolf stalking along warily next to her.
The big tiger keeps his head raised, eyes scanning the trees under which they walk, knowing his vision is better than Mikal's right now and that soon it will be much better than hers. From time to time, Ravana glances ahead of himself to make sure he's still following the stealthy, well-matched mortals.
The leopard's tracks grow fresher as they move and the light dims. Seen from afar, the strange trio would seem almost ghostly, so little noise do they make. From time to time, there are the sounds of night birds or the chitter of some small mammal. As they pass beneath the first branches of an enormous and ancient tree, there's yowling snarl and a rustle of branches as a heavy body drops down toward Mikal.
Raphael's growling thought of, [There!] is almost Mikal's only warning, and she throws herself sideways, rolling to smoothly bring up the bow and fire directly towards where Raphael is almost lunging up to meet the hard-muscled body hurtling down towards him.
Ravana roars as there's a flurry of action in front of him. The monstrous cat stretches and shudders, the human shape of the rakshasa rising up in its place.
The big cat drops atop Raphael, having missed the smaller target and landed on her fuzzy brother instead. His claws were out, using his weight and gravity to drive himself into the raptor-wolf.
Years of mental connection to his half-sister are clearly aiding the big raptor wolf -- Raphael does a weirdly athletic sway sideways, and the big cat can't get any purchase on his slightly scaly hide whatsoever!
Mikal wastes no time -- the bow is up and the arrow flying towards the entangled, snarling, snapping, writhing pile of animals before Raph even has a chance to attack.
The arrow flies true, as both Raph and Mikal knew it would, missing the big raptor wolf completely. The leopard appears to abruptly sprout fletchings from its ribcage, and it screams and falls away from Raphael's back.
The big raptor wolf whirls with surprising smoothness, following the falling cat as he lunges forward with fanged jaws agape and claws spread.
His jaws close on the leopard's throat, and Mikal relaxes a bit, standing to aim more carefully for a covering shot -- she's never seen anything survive her half-brother tearing their throat out.
Ravana steps in, eyes and teeth flashing in the low light. He draws his knife and reverses it, aiming the heavy jeweled pommel for the leopard's head.
Once it is down, he peels the glove off his right hand and smearing his fingers through the blood matting the leopard's pelt, voice still tigerishly growly, "A fine, fine quarry indeed!"
Mikal holds the nocked arrow steady, aiming at the leopard until Raph shakes his head fiercely once, then drops the body and glances back at her over his shoulder. She sighs softly in relief, lowering the bow -- then grins at Raphael, "Well done! All right, perimeter check!" The two of them vanish into the underbrush, making sure the leopard has no backup waiting to attack.
As Mikal and Raphael move out to check the perimeter, Ravana goes to one knee beside the leopard, murmuring, "You put up a good fight, little brother, but not good enough... and isn't she a fine huntress?" The sharp knife whose pommel dealt the small but final blow to the dying cat flashes as the rakshasa begins to skin their quarry.
Mikal does not notice anything untoward; the leopard apparently was hunting alone. Raphael, on the other hand, seems distracted, glancing up into the trees, coming off as somewhat nervous.
Mikal thinks silently to him, [What?] as she warily draws and nocks another arrow.
Raphael responds that he isn't too sure, as he's edging back to Ravana. The raptor-wolf is looking up into the trees. It's nothing he can yet put a finger on.
Mikal nods and follows silently, whispering over the link for them to bracket the rakshasa while still out of sight, as they wait and try to figure out what it is that's triggering the big raptor wolf's instincts.
It is as Ravana is skinning the leopard, that Raphael's ears perk, and he mentally shouts looking upward.
Looking up, stooping from a terriffic height, wings almost completely enfolded around it and giving almost a hawk's keen, a six-winged angel is plummetting towards them from the sky, lance pointed at Ravana....
Mikal drops the arrow she has, whipping out a salt-encrusted one and firing, even as she calls, "Knock him away, Raph!" The big raptor wolf charges out of the underbrush, head down and muscles bunched as he rushes past the rakshasa. He grabs an arm in his mouth, yanking with all his power.
The keening screech of a stooping hawk becomes a choked scream of rage as the salt-encrusted arrow sweeps against the angel's flank and through a wing. Though the arrow itself did no damage, it left salt in it's wake, rendering at least one wing, temporarilly at least, useless... making the angel plummet uncontrollably towards the ground.
Mikal pulls another salted arrow, murmuring softly, "Papaios, can you stop an angel sceptre without destroying the entire surroundings?"
Ravana shouts in surprise as Raphael leaps at him, tumbling him to the ground. The rakshasa has to twist rather acrobatically in order to avoid both tree roots and his own knife.
Mikal whews in mental relief to the raptor wolf, [Good save, big brother!]
The bow considers for a moment, then answers, [Not in a single shot. With additional awen, however, I can create a projectile which will burst into a cloud of salt.]
Mikal murmurs to the bow, [Do you have enough awen to do so now?] as she nocks the next arrow.
The bow replies, [Yes.]
Mikal whews softly, "Excellent," then steps forward slightly so she can see the angel crash into the ground.
The angel manages to not quite Mikal dashes swiftly after it, bow at the ready and making a soft bird call so Raphael can orient in on her.
The short-haired angel is just starting to pick itself up -- two wings are clearly broken -- when it half-senses Mikal enering the brush after it. With a scowl, it whirls, pointing the pennon-tipped lance at her, though not in striking range of her just yet.
Mikal comes to a halt, bow aimed, and murmurs calmly, "You really don't want to attack me, angel." She waits for Ravana to arrive, not entirely sure what to do with a damaged angel!
Ravana rolls to his feet with a roar of anger and surprise. The rakshasa's face is twisted in fury and frustration as he moves to follow Mikal and the plummeting angel. There is no shortage of broken branches and other dangers for the otherwise powerful and fearless rakshasa. As he moves, he draws his own weapon.
Mikal can practically feel the angry rakshasa behind her, and she knows he's arriving soon. Thoughtfully she says, "If you answer quickly -- what would you swap for your life?"
Raphael's soft mental growl lets Mikal know he's circling around to behind the angel.
The angel blinks, then glares. "Nothing I would give to you!" and he lunges with the lance.
Mikal whispers, "Now, Papaios," as she fires.
The bow unleashes a hissing arrow, the sound of sand shifting or salt pouring. Leaving a faintly glittering trail the arrow leaps from the bow and with a whump! it bursts into a cloud of glittering salt right in front of the angel. With a cry, the angeloi stumbles, salt coating its eyes and getting into it's wounds. Fortunately Raphael trips the angel before the wildly-swung diamond tip of the lance strikes Mikal. The angel is not having a good time of it, thrashing on the ground in pain as it tries to flail with the lance.
Mikal frowns down at the angel, drawing another arrow and nocking it. If Ravana doesn't kill the sceptre, she's going to have to do so -- it's clearly in agony. [Pull back, Raph -- don't get hurt.]
Ravana's entrance is rather less dramatic than the angel's, being as careful as he must around the wood. His demeanor, however, is no less furious and there seems to be actually an aura of menace around him. In his hand is his talwar, the curved blade gleaming even in the low light. Stalking toward the angel, he moves to slap the diamond-tipped lance to the side.
Mikal murmurs quietly, "I tried reasoning with him, but he was not impressed with me. Perhaps he will deal with you instead, Ravana Lord?" She casually makes sure the angel knows what he's facing.
THe angel is actively flailing around too much for Raphael to get a good hold on the lance.
The big raptor wolf snorts discontentedly, then leaps gracefully out of the way. Mikal grins at him, her voice affectionate, "Opportunist. Let Ravana Lord deal with him, silly. He won't even really talk to us!"
Ravana stays out of the path of the waving lance, avoiding the wooden shaft of it and smiling tightly as he watches the pain of the angel and realizes that he knows the downed sceptre. "Moroni! Drop the weapon, lapdog of the Architect!" The lord of the Rakshasa is holding himself to his full, over-aweing height, talwar held at the ready. He even looks a little cocky.
Mikal raises an amused eyebrow and takes careful aim. It's when folks get cocky that they get hurt, in her experience.
The angel, Moroni, is panting a bit, managing to come to his knees, eyes still squeezed shut from the salt in them, his voice tight from his salted wounds. "N-never!" he rasps out. "I'll die before taking orders from you, pagan!"
Mikal murmurs gently, "Then take a suggestion from me: you are worth more to your deity alive, are you not? Don't rush so eagerly to death."
Ravana snorts in derision and and holds out his left hand, holding his thick leather glove, "Ninshubur, would you be so kind as to help me get this on?" The other hand still holds the talwar steady, the rakshasa's stance almost nonchalant. Still, cocky or not, he does not take his eyes off the angel or sheathe his weapon.
Mikal looks unhappy for a moment, but then sighs and decides to trust the big rakshasa can indeed cover the both of them. She beckons to Ravana to move from where his voice just was, shifting her position silently as well. After that she'll carefully set the bow and arrow where she can quickly snatch them up again, then reach out to help Ravana get his glove on.
Moroni wavers a little unsteadily -- still, he turns to 'face' the direction Ravana is speaking in. "The... the Architect is my life. His will is my life!"
Ravana takes a careful and near-silent step to the right of his previous position and holds his hand as still as he can for Mikal, not speaking again until the protective glove is on that hand. After that, he begins to shift forward, voice a low hiss, "The Architect is mad and he will drag you all into insanity with him."
Mikal swiftly scoops up her bow and arrow again, pity on her face. Softly she says, "That is tragic. Have you truly no will of your own, sceptre?"
Moroni is starting to blink his eyes clear, though it's clearly painful; whatever passes for adrenaline in sceptres is clearly present in spades. "He is not! He... he made us! He made mortals what they are! He made me! I... owe... him!"
Mikal murmurs, "He didn't make me, and I'm mortal. Have you not served him faithfully long enough? What sort of deity seizes your will and uses you as cannon fodder?"
Ravana stands very still, watching the unsteady wavering of the diamond-tipped lance, eyes slitted. His voice is low, "I serve the memory of Lord Krishna, but I serve him out of choice, Moroni. I do not serve his memory and the good of the mortals out of some misguided sense of duty to a god that would damn me for having a thought of my own!" The tears running down the angel's cheeks are tinged with blood from the injury caused by the salt. Moroni is trying very hard to center on Ravana's voice, but his mind is fuzzy with the pain inflicted by Mikal's devastating salt attacks, "His will be done!" The angel lunges clumsily, missing Ravana's side by half a foot and putting the shaft of his lance within grabbing distance of the rakshasa's gloved hand.
Mikal shakes her head silently as the angel apparently doesn't even hear her. She murmurs softly to the rakshasa, "He's suffering, Ravana Lord, and he apparently can't even conceive of having a will of his own. Please, either heal him or kill him cleanly?"
Ravana doesn't glance toward Mikal, but he does move rather like lightning, as one must do when handling something deadly. The gloved hand strikes down and wraps around the lance, the rakshasa pivoting hard and fast on one foot as the other whips around and up, striking the wounded angel in the temple. The impact is solid and snaps Moroni's head to the side. After a frozen moment of shock, the angelic sceptre slithers bonelessly to the ground at Ravana's feet. The rakshasa is holding the pennon-emblazoned lance out to his side, "We will take him back to camp. My chirurgeons will see to him."
Mikal sighs softly in relief, cautiously lowering the bow but keeping her gaze on the angel, "Thank you." A moment later she adds, "Wolf, perimeter check?" She smiles a little ruefully up at the rakshasa, then vanishes into the underbrush again with the raptor wolf.
Ravana nods to Mikal, eyes flat. He drives the but of the lance into the ground and crouches over the unconscious angel, carefully sweeping the salt off his face. His movements are stiff, backed as they are by outrage and anger at the attack. The check of the perimeter yields only the half-skinned leopard.
Raphael sneezes, then gives Mikal a reproachful look. She winces in amused rue, whispering, "I'm sorry! I didn't mean to get the salt in your face too, Raph! Go guard Ravana, okay? I'll check around."
Mikal lets Raphael know she's with the leopard, and drags it (with some effort) under cover before she continues the messy job of skinning it. She figures Ravana will be done with the angel long before she's done, but Raphael can keep watach for the both of them. She's quite pleased, actually, about the hunt -- she hopes Ravana will let her keep the skin so she can gift it to her sweetheart -- but a bit sad about the poor angel.
After checking Moroni carefully and divesting him of any other wooden items, Ravana hoists the angel over his shoulders like a man carrying a sheep and picks up the sceptre's lance in his gloved hand. He re-sheathes his tulwar and returns to the site of the leopard's death. The rakshasa's face is set and unreadable.
Mikal glances up at the sound of the rakshasa's approaching tread, then blinks and looks a bit worried, "Er... i-is everything... all right?"
Ravana's voice is a bit flat, "This creature once meant something. He was a being of inspiration, twisted though the inspiration might have been, and the Architect has made him into something he was not meant to be. It angers me."
Mikal doesn't know how to answer that, so she simply ducks her head and hastily finishes the skinning and preparing of the hide. Once she's rolled it neatly up she whispers softly, "Done. D-do you take the carcass as well?"
Ravana looks at the carcass of the leopard and says, "If your Wolf can carry it, it can be used for food. It should not be wasted. The beast was a noble one, but simply outclassed by a huntress as fine as yourself, Ninshubur." Though the words are a little flirtatious, the rakshasa's voice doesn't hold the teasing tone it sometimes does when speaking to Mikal.
Mikal nods silently and unrolls the hide, using that to keep the blood off Raphael's back as she lays the carcass over his broad shoulders. She ties it down so it won't flop around, then draws her bow and nocks an arrow, trotting out to run point for the little group.
Mikal follows the rakshasa's trail back. He was making no effort to hide his tracks -- alpha predators often don't, she knows -- so it should be easy. As she goes, she wonders silently about how this trip went. She doesn't know the angel, but she is a bit surprised there was no comment at all from the rakshasa about Raphael and she effectively saving his life.
As they are making their way back to the camp, Ravana's voice comes from the rear of the little group, "I owe you and Wolf my thanks, Ninshubur." The tone is subdued and the words are a little forced, as if the rakshasa is not used to saying such things.
Mikal pauses to turn and smile, stepping to one side out of the underbrush so he can see her. "You'd have done the same for us. Would it be remiss of me to ask you if -- if maybe later we could go visit the places you said we could see today?" Her voice is hopeful -- she'd really like to make sure she's made all the good tactical suggestions she can for the rakshasa before leaving, after all. By this point she's feeling more like a young peer than a cute girl he's trying to bed, which helps her relax around him.
Ravana looks at Mikal, his face more solemn than she has seen it since first encountering the lord of the rakshasa, "I have made a promise, Ninshubur. You will see those places, though it may be delayed by Moroni's idiocy."
Mikal brightens, murmuring, "Thank you!" She glances at the limp angel, then back at the rakshasa, adding, "What, um... what was he like? Before? You said you knew him?"
Ravana's face relaxes slightly, though his smile is a little melancholy, "In one of the worlds of the Dreamtime, Moroni inspired a religion." As they walk, Ravana tells the story of Moroni's inspiration of a mortal con man and the religion that came of it.
Mikal listens quietly, even though most of her attention on running point. She's not sure why, but it's important to her to hear Ravana's voice getting more animation in it as he talks off his pain. When they get back to the rakshasa encampment it's full dark, and she's quite relieved -- tracking through a jungle at night, even on the tracks of a massive animal that made no effort to hide at all, is not easy!
By the time they arrive at the camp, Ravana has either regained his normal cockiness and animation or is doing an extremely good job of counterfeiting such. The reappearance of their leader with an injured angel causes shock and celebration and some confusion when Ravana announced that Moroni is to be given over to the chirugeons and then put into confinement. The rakshasa leader even hand-picks the guards to stand over the angel. The leopard carcass is given over to the cooks and Ravana asks Mikal if she would accept the skin as a trophy of a wondrous hunt and her extraordinary skill. This is done in front of quite a few of the rakshasa, another way of underscoring the importance of mortals in general and these in particular.
Mikal smiles shyly and nods, thanking the rakshasa. She makes no mention of how the angel was captured, however -- that's Ravana's business, not hers. She intends to finish prepping the skin, then go looking for the rest of her pack to tell them the whole story; she's actually quite proud of how alert Raphael was, and how they saved the rakshasa.
Jareth is waiting up for Mikal and Ravana's return from the hunt. When the to-do starts up, he follows the shouting and noise to where Ravana, Mikal and Raphael are surrounded by rakshasa with the leopard and the angel. He stays on the edges of things until the crowd starts dispersing.
Mikal brightens at sight of her packmate, gratefully darting over to him as soon as she can politely do so. Her voice is soft but very happy as she hugs him carefully, trying not to get blood on him, "Cat! Boy am I happy to see you -- got such a nifty story for you!"
Jareth tries to hide his sigh of relief at seeing that Mikal and Raphael seem unharmed and unchanged. He wraps his arms around the girl for a hug and says, "Be glad to hear it, lapin."
Mikal beams up at him shyly, "Really? Oh, good. I was worried you'd be upset about us hunting, maybe." She holds up what looks like a messy, bloody, unprepared skin, and proudly adds, "This is for you!"
Jareth blinks slowly, caught flat-footed and trying to figure out a way to react to the strange gift. Mikal's obvious pride in it finally decides him and he says, "Thank you, my little love... what is it?"
Mikal beams again, bouncing lightly on her toes, "A leopard skin! I'm going to prepare it and make it nice and soft for you, so we can make something nice from it for you!" She lays the heavy, messy thing over one shoulder, unself-consciously wipes her hand off down her pantaloons, then takes Jareth's hand and heads for someplace within the nighttime encampment that has both running water and some light. Once there she'll unroll the leopard skin on the ground and start spreading the leopard brains over it to prepare it, and she chatters in happy excitement the whole time, "Maybe a nice jacket? Or Norris could use it to decorate your armor? It was a great hunt -- Ravana Lord changed into a tiger and let me ride and went just galloping along! Fast as fast can -- and then we stopped to tracked a leopard at a regular scrape it seemed to use and Raph and I found the tracks and followed and Ravana Lord was following us and then the leopard dropped right out of a tree at us!
But I rolled and shot because Wolf warned me and roared and it landed on him but he shook it off without a lick of damage! -and then after I shot he bit, and then Ravana Lord conked it on the head..." Her eyes are shining with excitement as she works busily while talking, clearly sharing something that's very precious to her with Jareth.
Jareth settles down with Mikal, grinning broadly as she tells the story with such obvious enthusiasm and elan. He's not overly squeamish, but the use of the brains on the gift she intends to give him are something he has to think quite a lot about. Still, his heart is soaring from watching Mikal's joy and excitement.
Mikal finishes spreading the brains on the inside of the hide as she tells the hunting story, which leads quite naturally into the story of the angel's attack. As she cheerfully gives that story also, she rolls the hide up and looks around for something like a bucket, so she can submerge the hide in water for 24 hours. Conveniently, she finds one, and she starts washing up in the little stream as she talks, casually stripping out of her clothing as she does so. Raphael is nearby, calmly licking his paws clean, and he's not warned her that anyone is coming close, so it doesn't occur to her to worry -- and she does need to get all this tacky blood off her too, after all.
Jareth soon starts to be more fascinated by the story than by the rather gruesome preparations for the skin, which is quite gorgeous when it's rolled out. The girl stripping off her clothes so casually brings a different sort of grin to his face and he leans back on his elbows to watch. Strangely, the fact that she's rather bloody doesn't dampen his enjoyment. The fact, however, that she was so close to an angry angel gives him a jolt, "Your bow... it seems it's quite... needful."
Mikal glances puzzledly over her shoulder at Jareth, "Pardon? How do you mean? I thought Papaios behaved quite well?"
Jareth shakes his head, "Maybe I misspoke. It seems quite useful. It's something we need."
Mikal is splashing cool water over her pale skin, kneeling by the edge of the water and leaning over it so the droplets splash musically back into the little stream. She grins ruefully at Jareth, pushing her hair out of her face, "I think so! I've been both watching and shooting really carefully -- and both the rakshasa and the angels are really hard to hit! One at least one occasion I know my aim was perfect -- but the arrow still seemed to sort of skitter off the angel's skin. If it hadn't had salt on it, I'm not sure I would have harmed the angel whatsoever, you know?"
Jareth nods slowly, "Like their skin is armor itself?" He considers this and says slowly, "SOmething like a vajra would be useful against a creature like that."
Mikal pauses, sitting up and thinking about that carefully as the water droplets trail lazily down her skin. Finally she says slowly, "I... I'm not sure. Maybe it's just how incredibly agile they are?"
Jareth chews on his bottom lip, eyes squinting thoughtfully, "But if your arrow hit, wouldn't have bit in, even if they were agile?"
Mikal grins over her bare shoulder at Jareth again, then turns and scoops up water in her cupped hands again, splashing it over her face. She laughs at the pleasant sensations, then says cheerfully, "Not if they dodged in time, I don't think! What do you think?"
Jareth jumps a little guiltily as Mikal asks what he thinks, clearing his throat and trying to play back the last few words in his head. The washing is getting rather distracting. "Ahh... I don't know enough about battle, I suppose, my love."
Mikal sighs happily as she splashes water up along her arms, making sure no blood splatters are left, and replies, "Well, that's my guess. I don't really want to try experimenting, since I don't want to hurt an innocent bystander, but from what I can spot in the heat of battle... that's it, you know?"
Jareth stands up and shrugs out of his own shirt, walking toward Mikal, "Maybe the angel will tell us some of those things."
Mikal nods thoughtfully, pausing to look up at Jareth, "I'm hoping so. I wonder too why Ravana Lord didn't kill him? I think it's nice he didn't, but everyone keeps saying the rakshasa are so fierce and dangerous -- I was surprised he didn't!" She tilts her head and grins happily as Jareth approaches, adding, "Do you need washing too?" She pulls her pantaloons over and starts rinsing them out thoroughly as well, beaming, "Let me get my stuff clean, and I'll help you wash if you want?"
Jareth's brows up and he grins widely, "I wouldn't object to being washed by you, sweetling, but I was going to offer you my shirt, since yours is going to be wet and sticky." He strokes Mikal's head and says, "Maybe he was trying to impress you?"
Mikal blinks perplexedly -- then grins shyly, "Aww, that's nice, Jair -- thank you!" She pulls on the large (for her) shirt, rolling the sleeves up and pausing a moment to hold a handful of the cloth up to her face. She inhales happily, then adds, "Mmm... smells like you." The linen clings to her body somewhat revealingly.
She continues busily rinsing out her clothes and laying them out to dry as she answers Jareth, "You think Ravana Lord spared the angel Moroni so I'd think well of him? I don't know, although... well, he looked sort of stern and sad, you know? Not really... not like he was hoping I was watching, if that makes sense?"
Jareth clears his throat, pauses and clears his throat again. And then he quite abruptly sweeps Mikal into his arms and kisses her quite hungrily and thoroughly. And then he tries to disentangle himself and contemplate Mikal's explanation, "Strange. I... don't know him. I don't think I understand him." He purses his lips, biting back the rest of his thought.
Mikal squeaks a bit startledly at being grabbed, her eyes widening -- then gives a small, "oh!" as she's kissed! It only takes a heartbeat or two before she's avidly wrapping herself around Jareth in return, eagerly giving as well as she receives -- her second, "oh!" is a touch disappointed as Jareth tries to disentangle. She doesn't really help much with that, although she won't stop him; she really likes how he feels against her skin.
She nuzzles wistfully against Jareth's shoulder, then murmurs a bit confusedly, "Who...? Oh, Ravana Lord? Me either, really. What do you think of him?"
Jareth struggles a bit with his libido, stroking Mikal's hair as he does so, "I think... that..." He sighs and admits it, "I think I'm a little jealous of him, mon lapin. It is not a feeling I am used to, and I don't like it. But he seems to be a well-respected and powerful man."
Mikal almost purrs contentedly, wriggling a bit closer as Jareth strokes her so nicely. At his words she giggles softly, "His generals all flatten their ears to him, that's true!" Curiously she adds, "Why jealous, though? Do you want to be able to turn into a tiger too?" With a shy grins she whispers, "I know I'd like to -- his fur is so thick and soft and brilliant!" She adds thoughtfully, "It was a bit strange, though. He has this beautiful, powerful tiger form... but when we were hunting, as soon as we found the leopard he paused to change back to human form! I wonder why?"
Jareth smiles wryly at Mikal's dreamy assessment of the tiger-form of the rakshasa lord, "No, I'm jealous because of the way he looks at you. And because he is so powerful and well-respected. And I'm just a bard. Or I want to be." He considers that little tidbit of information, brows drawing together again as he shakes his head, "I couldn't say, love. I'm... neither a hunter nor a rakshasa."
Mikal blinks curiously, sitting up and asking interestedly, "How does he look at me?" She smiles, gently touching one small fingertip to the tip of Jareth's nose as she contentedly adds, "You're not just a bard, mon, um... mon kitten?" She laughs, shaking her head, and water droplets trail off her hair onto Jareth's bare skin as she grins, "What's cat in French, please? I want to say you're my bard, my cat!"
Jareth chuckles and murmurs, "Mon chat... it means, my cat." The trail of droplets cause some goosebumps and Jareth works at keeping his voice steady as he says, "He looks at you like he would very much like to be your lover. I know that look. I've felt it on my face."
Mikal beams and nods, "Mon chat!" She giggles, leaning to rest her forehead against Jareth's, and whispers, "Will you be mon chat?"
Jareth smiles and kisses Mikal's nose, "I've been your cat for a long while now, little love." He hugs her tightly for a moment and takes a deep breath. His nature is urging him to make love to her, even though it has not been so long since they did just that, perhaps his jealousy peeking through, "Should we go back? Do you want to speak with Ravana about the angel?"
Mikal giggles and blushes at the kiss, wriggling happily as she hugs Jareth. At his query she nods, "I do, yes, please!" She scrambles lithely to her feet as she adds, "You know, I think you're right about him looking at me funny, although I don't know if it's because he wants to be my lover. Tell you what!" She takes his hand and pulls gently, urging Jareth to his feet, "He did say he wanted to talk to you, remember? Why don't you come along?"
Jareth smiles and curls his fingers with Mikal's, "Perhaps we should get other clothes for you..."
Mikal looks down at the shirt she's wearing, pulling it out and away from her body with her free hand. She laughs, "Why? It's almost mid-thigh length on me!" She grins up at Jareth once he's standing, her eyes shining, "If I were in Norris's shirt, it'd be like a dress!"
She takes a few happy skipping steps, trying to pull Jareth along with her, "C'mon! Let's go see if Ravana Lord's free to talk, okay?"
Jareth smirks and slides his hand down along Mikal's sides and hips, tugging her to a stop, "And it clings to you like a second skin, mon lapin. I want to devour you myself, and I would feel more comfortable if you wore something less distracting if we're going to speak to Ravana." He takes a deep breath and makes himself say, "But it is your choice."
Mikal brightens excitedly, "You like how this looks?! Really? I want to wear this then, please?" She is a bit flushed as she leans against Jareth and adds shyly, "I, um... I like wearing things you like, you know?"
Jareth chuckles and shakes his head in resignation. This was not the result he had in mind, but he'll go along with it. Sliding one arm around Mikal, he walks with her in the direction of the main camp and Ravana's tent. The confession makes him smile, heart warming, "You'll have to tell me what you like for me to wear, then, so I can return the favor."
Mikal is blushing again as she grins up at Jareth, "I like you with your clothes on and off -- you move like you like your body, you know?"
Jareth laughs at that, grinning broadly, "I do like my body. It works the way it should and it's pleasant to live in it." He's got his arm perhaps a little more tighty around Mikal than he means to as they look for the rakshasa.
Mikal cheerfully slides her arm about his waist as well, leaning into him as his arm tightens. She feels really wonderful -- she's not just clean, and with a lovely gift for her sweetheart that he seems to like, and no one she was with got hurt on the hunt... she's also apparently really pleasing Jareth with wearing his clothes! She wonders if it's just his shirt, or whether he'd like her in his pants too.
She feels deliciously tingly and warm as she calls softly, "Hallo, the pavilion? Is Ravana Lord free to speak to visitors?"
The pavillion flap is pulled open by the female raksasha general who had bowed to Mikal at the unfortunate strategy session. "Please, enter. The Lord is discussing what to do with the prisoner."
Mikal beams, "Oh, hello! -er, and thank you!" She nods her head politely to the general, then slips into the tent, looking around curiously to see who all is there.
The pavillion isn't as filled as it was earlier that day, when Ravana announced their support. This time it seems to be less a strategy session and more of an ersatz, "Now that we have him, what do we DO with him?" and "The care and feeding of angels," session.
Ravana is, though, as always in the center of it all, but the discussion this time is a lot more animated, as there's also a lot of side conversations and discussions.
That all changes when Mikal and Jareth enter. First one head turns, then does a double take, then several more, then many more, and shortly the entire pavilion is silent with lots of the raksasha -- and Lord Ravana -- more or less dumbstruck by the sight of Miakl's not-quite-dressed-ness.
Jareth clears his throat a bit and says, "I apologize if we're interrupting." He is also garnering looks, not a few from apparently male raksasha, but many from the females.
Mikal is beaming as she enters, glancing around interestedly and with her lips parted to whisper something to Jareth -- but at the piercing regard of every rakshasa there she blinks startledly, straightening and going a bit pale... then she hastily slips behind Jareth.
Ravana clears his throat. "Not at all, my young friends," he says expansively. "Come in, come in. What may we do for you?" It's clear that while he is definitely including both Mikal and Jareth in his welcome, he also ahs eyes only for her.
Jareth reaches back with both hands to make sure he's holding onto Mikal, "We had some questions. Or, well, Mikal had some questions, and I am along because I was ever curious."
Mikal peeks only half her face cautiously out from behind Jareth, warily checking to see if all the huge predators, yeesh!! ...are still staring at them.
The raksasha seem to realize they're staring, and do their best to resume their prior conversations. Really.
Mikal closes one small hand around one of Jareth's, holding tight as she whispers, "M-maybe we can s-s-sit b-by the back w-wall, Cat?" She's already planning -- as soon as the rakshasa aren't looking directly at them, it should be safe to sneak out under the canvas wall of the tent!
Jareth smiles, more a twitch of the lips than anything. Mikal's reaction has calmed his nerves and jealousy a little bit. "Thank you for your welcome, Lord Ravana." He leads Mikal over to the seat indicated by the rakshasa, settling himself in it and gently urging Mikal to sit down between his feet, where she'll be close to him, but can see.
Mikal makes a small dismayed noise as they get seated right in the middle of everyone, but doesn't say anything else.
Jareth wraps his arms carefully around Mikal's shoulders as he leans down to speak close to her ear, "Do you want to leave, my love? We could try to find a time when Ravana is alone?"
Mikal hesitates, glancing around nervously... then she looks up and nods several times to Jareth. She's not sure she'd dare question the rakshasa lord in front of everyone right now, and she's also not sure if Ravana wanted to talk to Jareth privately or not.
Jareth nods and starts to rise, murmuring, "We seem to have interrupted something. We just wished to speak with Ravana."
Mikal looks relieved, not quite bouncing up to her feet! She grabs Jareth's hand and glances around nervously, already mapping out how to most safely and swiftly get to the pavilion's opening.
Ravana arches a brow, then speaks quietly to one of the advisors, before moving to walk with the mortals out of the pavillion. "Is everything well?" he asks quietly as he walks with them.
Mikal looks relieved as they're outside once more, not quite wrapping herself nervously around Jareth's arm on the far side from the pavilion. She nods a few times, staring wide-eyed up at Ravana, her damp hair curling in twisting tendrils along her cheeks and throat as she whispers, "They were all... staring so! Why were they all staring at us? Hadn't they eaten or anything?!"
Ravana blinks a bit, and looks at Jareth. "She's quite serious, is she?"
Jareth smiles a bit and shrugs to Ravana and then nods. He leans his head down to Mikal, "It's the shirt, mon lapin. They didn't want to eat you, they were thinking how lovely you looked."
Mikal gives the rakshasa lord a confused glance, then turns to look over her shoulder -- is he referring to someone else? She blinks up at Jareth, "The... they -- they were?" Her voice ends on a suddenly extremely self-conscious squeak, and she flushes bright red and turns her face into Jareth's shoulder. "S-sorry?!"
Jareth wraps his arms around Mikal, his expression tender as he kisses the top of her head, "No need to apologize, love. You do look rather lovely." He doesn't even seem aware that there were stares pointed at him as well.
Mikal hugs Jareth tightly, feeling simultaneously oddly mortified and oddly pleased. It takes her a bit to pull herself together enough to turn her head just enough that one stormy-gray eye can be seen glancing towards Ravana, and she adds softly, "If -- if you still w-want to talk to Ja- Cat, I guess I c-could c-come back later? Once it -- once it's a bit quieter?"
Jareth says, "I have a feeling it doesn't ever get very quiet around here."
Mikal gives Jareth a confused look, "But, but he managed to find an hour before where it was just him -- n-not him and a ton of hungry tigers!" She takes a deep breath, turning slightly so the rest of her face can be seen, and adds wistfully, "I-is that not possible now there's an angel in -- in the encampment?"
Jareth says, "Or maybe we just need to take a walk away from the generals."
Ravana smiles wryly, "I'm afraid you're both right. We've an angel in captivity. Things will not be terribly quiet for the time being. Moroni is not the least of the angels -- some say he was once second only to Gabriel -- but he has fallen far from his original rank. Even so, he is sure to be missed. And yet I find myself unwilling to simply release him. He could be a source of great intelligence... but how much better would it be to convince him to turn his back upon the Architect?"
Mikal nods slowly at that, then looks up at Jareth, "M-maybe you should talk to him, Cat! If anyone could ch-change his mind... maybe you could?"
Jareth nods slowly, "I could try..."
Mikal glances curiously up at the rakshasa, whispering softly, "Um... if you d-don't mind my asking, wh-why did you not kill him?"
Ravana folds his hands in front of him, thoughtfully. "Because... to be honest... I feel a little sorry for Moroni. His messages founded a religion all it's own, though it still held the Architect in highest esteem. He loved mortals in his own way, returning love for love. But throughout the Godswar, he was increasingly... marginalized. It was as if what he had done and the worshippers he had brought to the feet of the Architect no longer mattered. Moroni became almost a parody of himself.
"I will gladly engage in glorious battle with the highest and the least of the Architect's lapdogs, and will cheerfully give no quarter. But Moroniel... he was never, at heart, a godsworn warrior. He only wanted to do right by his work with mortals."
Mikal sighs softly, relaxing a little as the huge rakshasa talks. She ends up standing with her back to Jareth, leaning comfortably back against him as she looks up at Ravana and listens. When he's done she nods and murmurs quietly, "Poor angel. Can we talk to him, then?"
Jareth wraps his arms around Mikal comfortably, chin resting on her shoulder.
Mikal grins shyly, resting her hands on Jareth's arms and idly stroking one of them as she keeps watching Ravana.
Ravana continues, "To be one of the Mazikin... I will be honest, I would not wish Moroniel to be such. There is a vicious cunning to Asmodeus and Andramelech that I do not fully trust. Moroniel's only crime is that of the best of intentions. If you can convince him to turn his back on the Architect, I will see about finding someone who can help him find a new place for himself."
Mikal tilts her head confusedly, "Mazikin? Er... we didn't mention them at all, though... why not Armaros?"
Jareth murmurs close to Mikal's ear, "Just my thought, beloved."
Mikal beams proudly at that, unwittingly happily wriggling a bit in Jareth's arms.
Ravana smiles quietly. "I know you did not mention them. I was, however, and that is not a fate I would like to see thrust upon Moroniel. Armaros, however.... He is the Fallen in the Winter Palace, is he not? I have heard of him."
Jareth nods to Ravana, "He is. He is peaceful, for the most part. And helps the mortals when he can."
Mikal nods eagerly, "He loves mortals too, he said! Bet he could help?"
Ravana smiles. "That would be good for Moroniel, I think. Of course, the trick would be to convince him to turn from the mad Lord of Dust and Ash."
Mikal murmurs shyly, "Well... can we at least try? I mean, the worst that happens is he ignores us, like he did on the hunt, you know?"
Jareth smiles a bit, eyes twinkling, "I have been known to be passing eloquent."
Mikal grins proudly up at Jareth, nodding, "He is!"
Ravana says, "I would be honored if you would try -- both of you," he amends, to include Jareth at the young bard's comment.
Mikal looks surprised, "Me too? It's Cat who's the smooth talker, not me." She grins shyly again, going back to silently stroking Jareth's arm around her waist.
Jareth's smile slides toward lop-sided smirk for a moment as he realizes he's been added at the last moment. "If you can tell me what his passions are, I'll be happy to try and sway him."
Ravana nods to Jareth. "He was always a lover of music and song, but more than that he appreciated independent, strong-willed mortals. The kind who could take themselves and their families out into the desert and survive for weeks on end on their own. Again, stories and tales of mortals fascinated and enchanted him."
Jareth nods, thinking carefully on that. He has been soaking up quite a few stories and may have an idea where to start with Moroniel.
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