Bough -- Logs

In one of the few lulls in camp life, Ravana searches out Mikal, making certain that Jareth is busy elsewhere. Having seen the pair of them together, he has begun to have some idea of just how strong the affection between them is.

He finds her by the little stream, leaning against the relaxedly snoozing Raphael. She's singing softly to her half-brother, carefully checking her bow and arrows as she does so. The two of them look up at the big rakshasa simultaneously, almost as if the same sense alerted them both. Raphael yawns, baring his teeth-filled maw, and settles down to snooze again; Mikal hesitates, then smiles uncertainly, "Um... hello? I, uh, hope I wasn't annoying anyone w-with the singing?"

Ravana smiles down at the girl and chuckles, eyes twinkling, "Indeed not, Ninshubur. Your voice is pleasing. And your Wolf is very lucky to have such an affectionate companion."

Mikal looks faintly relieved, "Oh, um, g-good." She rests a hand on Raphael -- she has to crane very far back to look up at the big man's face from where she's sitting on the ground -- and adds quietly, "He's my half-brother. How could I not?"

Mikal blinks, thinking for a moment, then looks up at Ravana again, "D-do you and your brother ever do things together? W-why were you fighting each other, before?"

Ravana crouches down so that Mikal doesn't have to look up quite so far up. "We do not do much together. We have had a somewhat contentious relationship and have not always agreed. And I would rather not speak of such stressful times."

Mikal nods hastily, flushing and looking down at the arrow in her hands, "I, I -- er, s-sorry, Ravana Lord."

Ravana shakes his head and smiles, "Don't worry yourself about it, Ninshubur. I have something to cheer us both."

Mikal blinks, looking up in some surprise, "Wh-what?" She's not damp now, so the shirt doesn't cling quite so... assiduously. Sitting cross-legged on the grass, though, she's still showing quite a bit of thigh.

Ravana's eyes do wander a bit, "Just something outside the camp. Not far. A safe, short journey."

Mikal thinks a bit, then says shyly, "I... if it's outside the encampment I should get dressed, yes? But my, um, my pantaloons are s-still wet?"

The rakshasa chuckles and his eyes wander a bit more obviously this time, "It would, perhaps, be wise. Or you could simply go astride my shoulders. I'm quite fast, you know."

Mikal nibbles absently on her lower lip, thinking -- then she lights up, "Oh! You'd be a tiger again?"

Ravana laughs and reaches to pat Mikal's bare knee, "Indeed. You'd enjoy it."

Mikal grins a bit sheepishly, brushing her curling hair back behind one ear, "I, um, well... yes. I mean, your tiger form is really pretty." She scrambles quickly to her feet, gathering up her weaponry and gorytus and looking around thoughtfully. "Hm... if I'm riding, will there be any walking once there? I mean, do I need boots?"

Mikal buckles on her gorytus, then tugs on the edge of the shirt so it doesn't hike up too high.

Ravana chuckles and murmurs, "Only on the softest of ground, lovely one." He stretches out and that same strange, wonderful sight ensues. Soon, the enormous tiger stands before Mikal and Raphael, ruff proudly fluffed and tail lashing happily. The rakshasa isn't about to admit he's making excuses for this form change, "Perhaps as we go, you can tell me of yourself, Ninshubur."

Mikal flushes slightly at the compliment, and happily steps forward to run her fingers almost dreamily through the thick, soft undercoat. "Mmm? Um... not much to tell, really. Er... well, do you mean of Ninshubur, or of Rabbit? I'm still in the process of remembering Ninshubur, I'm afraid." She hesitates, then adds softly, "And, um, Rabbit... Rabbit's not very -- uh, I'm not v-very interesting, I'm afraid..." She sighs, leaning forward and swarming easily up onto the huge tiger's back. She's easily distracted once there. Not only does the fur under her feel wonderfully warm and slightly scratchy, but she has to take a moment to carefully tuck the shirt under her rear.

Ravana's large eyes half-close as Mikal runs her hands through his fur and he rubs his chin against her shoulder, tail lazily flicking back and forth. "I would hear of Rabbit, I believe. Of Ninshubur, I know stories. I wonder, however, how Ninshubur came to be Rabbit. And how Rabbit came to be so very fierce and yet so shy."

Mikal finishes carefully arranging her long tunic, then lays flat along the big tiger's massive shoulders, wrapping her arms as far as she can around the muscular neck. She laughs in soft rue, "Oh, it's just around people that I don't know what to do and I start stuttering and all. Out in the forest I'm fine -- that's where I feel at home, you know?"

Mikal rests her cheek against the thick fur as she thinks a bit, then adds, "It's easy to be fierce when you're defending what you love."

Ravana mmms and starts off at a pace that can only be described a prowl, slinking along as low to the ground as such an enormous creature can get. His ears are swiveling, listening to Mikal and to the surroundings as best he can. This information, he soaks in as he moves them out of the camp and up the slope behind it.

Mikal sighs and relaxes a bit, enjoying the lithely graceful movements of the big cat under her. She murmurs peacefully, "Always feels so nice -- the way you move as a tiger..." then falls silent for a bit, considering the remaining question. Finally she softly adds, "I don't -- I'm not really sure how I came to be Ninshubur, Ravana Lord. I'm sorry, I don't really know how to answer that one, you know? I just... well... it's just sometimes I dream of the city, and of Her temple..." she sighs wistfully, then adds, "I stopped the priests of Anu there. One of them was mad, I think -- eaten up alive with anger, and the Architect promised him power if he'd deceive his fellow priests and murder the priestesses." More quietly she adds, "I'm really glad Wolf and I were there... or, um... well, I don't know if we really were or not, actually. It's..." she sighs again, "It's confusing."

Ravana's voice is almost gentle, "It is a strange life, mortals lead. Having so many worlds to juggle. So many lives. One after another until you have reached enlightenment. We rakshasa have only one existence."

Mikal sighs quietly, leaning her head so she can see ahead somewhat as the big tiger pads smoothly along, and still rest her cheek against the sleek fur, "Do you... well, do you ever dream when you sleep?"

As they speak, the rakshasa with his leather-clad paws, slowly climbs through the lush foliage of the jungle. A short journey is apparently rather relative to him.

Ravana moves as if Mikal weighs nothing as he threads through the trees. He is preternaturally agile when it comes to avoiding actually brushing the trunks of the trees and other woody plans. Eventually, the break out of the thick canopy onto a ledge. It seems to have been formed when part of the mountain simply sheared away, leaving a drop below them and a clear view of the valley and plateau before them.

Mikal is feeling rather drifty or dreamy, even though she's not tired and doesn't need to sleep. Musingly she adds, "If immortals dream... is that a form of reincarnation?" She blinks, sitting up enough to rest her elbows on the tiger's broad shoulders, so she can look up over his head and between the rounded ears. Her voice is soft, "Oooh... so many stars in the sky!"

Ravana settles onto his stomach on the edge of the precipice. It is shaded enough by the trees that the stone is covered in a lush growth of moss and other ground cover. The starts that can be seen look like enormous jewels in the sky and the moon lights up the valley below in shades of grey and purple.

Mikal slides carefully off the big tiger's back, moving with caution since she can't see perfectly. She eases forward to settle next to Ravana's head, one small hand resting on his powerful neck. Were she with Raphael she'd wriggle into a comfy spot between his front legs, leaning against his chest -- but she doesn't quite feel she knows Ravana well enough to take such liberties with him.

Ravana rumbles, "If you grow cold, Rabbit, please don't hesitate to warm yourself against my chest." His eyes are strangely alien in this form, though to someone as used to animals as Mikal, the amber color and huge iris may be comforting. "I am glad you appreciate the loveliness of this. It is a place I often come to think on hard decisions."

Mikal whispers hesitantly, "May I? I -- I would like that...?" She'll cautiously slide to between Ravana's front paws, then carefully re-settle the shirt so it's not hiked up too much again. She curls up against the tiger's warmth, then falls silent for a long moment, just drinking in the cool, peacefully moonlit scene. Her voice is dreamy again as she whispers, "It's so beautiful here..." as she leans back against the big, thickly furred chest.

(Log stopped Wed Jun 10 1909 10:47 PM by "Mikal" at "Bough Soundstage" OOC)

(OOC) Thu Jun 11 1909 07:02 PM by "Mikal" at "Bough Soundstage" (OOC)

Mikal is absently stroking the fur along one powerful foreleg as she rests against the rakshasa lord, staring contentedly out over the gorgeous nighttime, starlit view.

Ravana rubs his chin against Mikal's head and shoulders, chuffing quietly for a moment, and then rumbles, voice quiet, "You must have a very strange idea of us, Ninshubur."

Mikal giggles at the chin rubs, quite aware he's marking her -- and rather flattered he considers her someone worth being "pack" with. She reaches up to scritch with her agile (and much smaller) fingers through the thick fur to that spot on the chin that cats can't ever quite reach to keep clean, shifting to kneel between his forepaws so she can do so more easily. Compared to the big tiger, she's diminutive, but she fearlessly nuzzles against his head as she scritches, grinning teasingly as she rests her small chin on the broad end of his nose and stares into the beautiful, big, glowing amber eyes, "How do you mean, please?"

Ravana raises his head and makes a sound of pleasure as Mikal scritches beneath his enormous chin, ears and tail flicking lazily. He lowers his head a little, amused at the diminutive human's mimicking of the marking behavior, "We speak of war and destruction and of preservation in the same breath."

Mikal giggles again, inordinately pleased he doesn't seem to mind her touching him so, and lets herself slide back down to settle against his chest again once she's rubbed his chin and ruff a bit -- that's really as far as she can easily reach, considering how huge he is. She sighs happily, nestling back into the warm, thick fur as she looks back out over the valley below again, and murmurs relaxedly, "We as in you and I? Or as in you and your people, please?"

Ravana settles down a bit as Mikal settles between his outstretched front legs, "My people."

Mikal hmms quietly, considering that as she goes back to absently stroking the fur on one foreleg. After a while she speaks softly, "I don't know if I have strange ideas about you and yours, Ravana Lord. You are unique to me. I've got memories of the snake people as wisewomen, shamans, and healers without compare; and I'd heard of rakshasa before... but never met one. I admit I find the entire concept of sceptres a bit odd -- it seems cruel to me to create a race of immortals, and then make them so fragile! -and sometimes I find you confusing -- all of you, not just rakshasa. I mean, why do you need to sleep and eat, but we don't? Does that mean if I met you in the dream worlds, I'd need to eat and sleep, and you wouldn't? And is it confusing for you, dealing with us? I wonder how the passage of time must seem to you -- will you turn around one day and be surprised I'm centuried dead, or what, you know?"

Ravana seems to be considering the questions, large amber eyes blinking slowly, perhaps a little sleepy. "We sleep and we eat because that is what is expected of living beings. You are dreaming yourself here. In dreams, you can decide to change things. But I am not dreaming. I am of the dream."

Mikal blinks at that, her eyes widening at a sudden internal revelation. She remains silent where she's cuddled up under the big rakshasa's head, though, listening in fascination.

Ravana chuckles quietly, "And I would be shocked to turn around one day and find you have been centuries dead. And I would mourn the passing of the life of Rabbit, but I would celebrate the fact that you will be born again to an even more wondrous life. You mortals, you have such beautiful facets. Life after life, working off your karma and living as so many different people. I will only ever be one thing. I shall be Ravana, Lord of the Rakshasa. You, however, you have already been so many things. You have been Ninshubur, vizier of Inanna. You are now Rabbit, lover of Cat. Imagine what other amazing things you shall be."

Mikal grins up at the underside of Ravana's chin from where she's settled, "But do you have to stay where you are, if you wish to live more lives? Surely the battle between rakshasa and angels will not last for ever, and then you can go a-wandering if you wanted, yes?" She reaches out impetuously with both hands, trying to draw one huge, leather-clad paw into her lap, "Who knows? You might find all kinds of wondrous adventures out there!"

Ravana lets the paw be lifted, though he doesn't make it actually easy, eyes twinkling as Mkal has to work to lift the heavy extremity, "Mmmm... even after the Architect has been thwarted, I will still be this same person. Even if I wished to go elsewhere, I would be the same me inside my head."

Mikal grunts with the effort, then snorts amusedly and slaps her palm down lightly on the big forearm, "Tease! See if I try to be nice to you and let you stretch your toes out next time!" She giggles, starting to unlace the leather straps on the little bootie as she adds, "But how can you be the same as you learn more from life? I've been in the same head -- mine -- for all my childhood, but I'm different now than I was then, after all. Don't sceptres have free will?" She frowns, considering that, then amends darkly, "Well, the ones that don't serve the Architect, I mean?"

Ravana huffs laughter and shifts his paw so that it's more easy for Mikal to get the leathern mitten off his enormous paw. "I will always have the thoughts of who I am. I cannot change my past. You, however, will have the chance to start over each life. One after the next."

Mikal whews slightly as the big tiger actually helps moving his massive paws around! She grins, settling back once his forepaws are bare -- although she can't resist brushing her fingers ever so lightly and ticklishly over the sensitive hairs between the pads on one paw!

Ravana's eyes go almost completely closed as Mikal brushes the hair between his enormous toes, haunches wriggling slightly in pleasure.

Mikal blinks as he's not ticklish at all! -then grins at his pleased reaction and can't resist doing it again. She knows how good it feels, after a long day of hiking and climbing and hunting, to rinse off her hot, tired feet and give them a good massage, after all. She cheerfully starts rubbing her fingers gently along the pads and between them, contentedly exploring this new and fascinating paw type -- she's never been able to play with a live big cat before, after all! Musingly, after several moments of doing so, she murmurs, "So does it ever get... well... lonely? I mean, if you're always the rakshasa lord... I mean, your pack style is really different than what I'm used to. It looks like you have to actually fight to stay alpha sometimes. Is that lonely?"

Ravana wriggles the toes of his front paw as Mikal massages it. His haunches are starting to wriggle a little more obviously as she does that, "It doesn't get lonely too often, Ninshubur. There is too much to do to get lonely. As for fighting, there is not as much as you would think. I am far and away the most poweful."

Mikal can't see the growing, ah... enthusiasm of the haunches behind her, so she placidly continues what she's doing. "Well, I guess that's a relief -- having to fight people you like to lead would be a real problem, I'd think!" She's silent for a bit, letting her mind drift as she massages... then she tilts her head back to look directly up at the massive head over her. Her voice is soft as she says, "So... what happens to Moroni now? Is that the difficult decision you have tonight?"

Ravana mmms and lowers his head to gently nosebump Mikal's hair, just barely stopping himself from lapping her with his oversized, sandpapery tongue. "Mmm... yes. Taking prisoners is not our normal mode. Glorious, bloody and deadly battle is how the rakshasa make war. But I am as much scholar as warrior and the urges battle within me."

Mikal smiles and reaches up to gently pat his nose with one small hand before she continues rubbing his paws where they're curled around her. She considers for a bit, then says thoughtfully, "Well, you said yourself you speak of war and destruction, and preservation, in the same breath, so I don't see anything wrong with that. I mean, given the option I'd rather not kill things too. Don't get me wrong: I love the challenge and danger and excitement of a good hunt... but I killed monsters because they were unnatural and wrong and would have eaten us all given half a chance. I kill things on hunts when we, or folks I'm trying to help, need to eat. I try to make sure my kills are as quick and clean as I can make them. So... yeah, I can see why you'd feel both inside you." She considers a bit more, then adds slowly, "So... if we're blessed, Moroni will break free of the Architect's hold on him, and that will make it easy. But... what if he won't change? If he can't? What then?"

Ravana's voice is quiet and low, "If he will not change, then he may have to be put to death. We would not be able to keep a prisoner safe and secured for the length of this war."

Mikal nods quietly, still calmly massaging as she speaks, "I know. I thought about it on the walk back, and I realized you didn't have a lot of options. Obviously I hope it doesn't come to that, and if worst comes to worst, I hope you'll let us try to talk to Armaros and see if he can do anything, but... well," she tilts her head back to look up at him again, adding gravely, "if it helps any... I understand."

Ravana nuzzles his cheek-ruffs against the girl that's massaging his enormous paws, "Your sympathy is much appreciated." The tiger raises his head and yawns, baring a truly startling number of very large teeth. "I apologize, Ninshubur, but as you mentioned. We must sleep."

Mikal laughs softly, reaching back for the little leather booties and starting to lace them back into place, "That's fine." With shy pleasure she adds, "I, um... I really enjoyed this -- thank you. It's beautiful, and so are you, and you're warm, and... and..." she ducks her head, flushing as she mutters, "w-well... it w-was really nice. Thank you."

The rakshasa raises each of his paws to let Mikal get the booties onto them. His ears flick and his tail swishes against the soft, moss-covered rock, "I am glad you have enjoyed seeing this place. And I am very glad you find the place and the company beautiful."

Mikal smiles shyly, glancing sideways up at the big tiger watching her. "I did. I do." She goes back to what she's doing, rising once she's done. Standing silently between the huge forepaws, in front of Ravana's head, she stares out at the valley below for a moment... then turns her gaze upwards to the sky above. The moon is big and full and delicious looking, and the Goddess's Milk flows across the sky in a rich, glowing profusion of beauty. Mikal's body language shifts subtly as she slowly draws in a breath, then speaks, her voice curiously dreamy, "Ravana Lord, rakshasa of the dream, you said... you also said in dreams I can decide to change things. Have you ever seen that happen?"

Ravana watches Mikal rise and gaze at the vista. He's careful not to disturb her and he answers her question in low tones, "I have seen mortals do wondrous things. What do you propose to do, little Rabbit?"

Mikal chuckles softly, turning with casually fluid grace unfettered by self consciousness, despite her short attire, "Ninshubur right now, I think. Let me see... I will need to focus a bit on my Lady if I'm going to try this. Is there a clearing nearby where I can dance?"

Ravana considers that carefully and says, "What is wrong with this clearing, Ninshubur? The ground is soft and the air is open.

Mikal glances around carefully, then grins, her eyes lighting up with enthusiasm, "Yes, I think you are correct, Ravana Lord -- this is a lovely place to dance to Her!"

Ravana shifts back from Mikal and the edge of the cliff, body shifting and shrinking (but only slightly) to turn into the human form of the Lord of the Rakshasa. His hands are gloved and he wears a long garment wrapped around his lower body. Above the waist, however, he is mostly bare except for golden decorations and a sash of some sort.

Mikal carefully unbuckles her gorytus and lays it aside, then tilts her head and regards the tall man thoughtfully for a few moments. If anything would say she's more Ninshubur than Mikal just now, it would be her current fearless assessment of Ravana in human form. She smiles, pointing at a thin golden bracelet on his wrist, "May I have that bracelet, please? We should exchange energy for energy, or it would be an unjust demand."

Ravana looks down at the heavy bracelet, considering, and then back at Ninshubur/Mikal. He nods and stands, stripping off the adornment and handing it to the young mortal woman, "And what demand do you plan to make that you need to make sacrifice?"

Mikal's eyes twinkle as she happily slips the bracelet onto her arm -- it's more of an armband for her -- and then she turns to walk with the easy, swaying grace of a dancer towards the middle of the clearing, loosening her hair and shaking it out so it tumbles in messy curls down her back. She grins over her shoulder at the rakshasa, "You may watch from there, Ravana rakshasa Lord... or you may come stand in the center and see!" She laughs -- an infectiously happy ripple of pleasure -- whirling lightly on her toes with her arms raised over her head, then comes to a halt, arms still outspread as she grins, "Decide now, though, please?"

Ravana's smile spreads quite widely and he stands up, striding to the center of the clearing before sitting down again, fully lotus, "I was simply trying to give you room, Ninshubur, but if I am to be invited..."

Mikal's smile becomes less exuberant and more serious as she adds, "Promise me also, please, you will return me safely to the encampment should this turn out to be too much for me?"

Ravana nods his head solemnly, "I vow it."

Mikal nods, a touch of relief in her smile -- then she turns her face up to the heavens. She takes a deep breath, closing her eyes and centering herself. She can feel the cool grass beneath her feet and the light brush of cloth against some of her skin -- and the thought that Jareth's love is wrapped around her warms her. The night breeze ruffles through her hair and flirts with the edge of the tunic she wears, but she barely feels its teasing caress over her skin; she's letting herself fall within herself: remembering Ninshubur, remembering her beautiful golden city and the temple home of her Lady... remembering glorious Inanna herself. The Queen of Heaven and Earth, the Queen of Love and War... images float up in Ninshubur's memory and she can feel the prickle of tears under her closed lids. She opens her eyes, the night stars blurry with her sudden pang of longing, and she turns that blind, grieving longing and love into a call, a reaching out... a dance of remembrance, need, and summoning.

Ravana sits, silent and observant, watching the change come over the girl. He is careful to keep his hands folded in his lap and his body as still as can be. No matter how lovely, this is ritual. Puja. Holy.

Mikal can hear the music coming closer, and she doesn't know if it's in her head or around her, and it doesn't matter: the deep, heavy, exciting drumming; the jingle and soft thrumming of the tamborines; the stamp and sway and beloved hum of the voices all raised in unison, singing praise and joy and love of their Lady. Ninshubur raises her voice as well in song, and as the scents tickle her nose she starts to dance: incense and dust, the beloved heat and sweat of many dancing together for the Lady's glory... her hips sway rhythmically as her arms describe sinuous, serpentine patterns. Her head tilts back in near ecstasy as she stamps and dances and swirls about the little clearing in the oldest of dances -- a dance of praise to the Goddess, rather than dancing for entertainment of an audience.

Mikal's desired goal is steady in her mind, even as she lets herself fall into the lovely ecstasy of rapturous movement in worship. The language she sings in is ancient, perhaps even older than Ravana himself, as she tells her Lady of her desire: to alleviate slightly the curse of the rakshasa! So long as they battle the angels for Krishna, she wishes Inanna to grant them the allergy to wood only if it has been deliberately modified into a weapon, and deliberately used as a weapon against them.

Somewhere, infinitely far from where Mikal stands, a single eye opens for the first time in eons.

The change is subtle, and cannot be seen or heard. It is a single pulse of some presence or touch, a sound of Creation that has no sound, more primal than even the holy Aum which was spoken even by some raksasha. For one brief moment, the constellations of the zodiac shift, and change slightly, becoming clearer in ways that only the Chaldeans would later remember, in ways that were familiar to those who first rose up the stones of ancient, hoary Uruk.

The pulse of not-sound leaps out, the epicenter within this clearing, and seems to stretch out past the borders of the Deep Wyld. The change it wroughts is not even noticable nor perceptible... but Mikal knows. For the first time in kalpas, as a raksasha might say, a prayer has been heard by a deity other than the Architect. Heard, and listened to, and granted.

Mikal's dance changes subtly at that wondrous, enlightened knowing, shifting from supplication and longing into joyous rapture. To hear and feel her Lady's presence after so long -- such a very long and arid time! -is a blissful gnosis the small woman had hoped for but not expected. She's utterly euphoric: her joyous laughter rippling like water; her tangled, curling mane of hair swirling out like a banner, then swinging in close to reveal intriguing glimpses of her shining eyes; her slender, small body moves with limber beauty in the beautiful, complicated, swaying steps and swirls and sways of the sacred dance of raks al sharqi. She pours out her energy, her faith and belief and love, into a reverent and fervent thanks to Inanna, her beloved Lady and the Queen of Love and War. She knows she's spending energy profligately -- and possibly dangerously -- but she also has faith in her current huge bodyguard, and so when her body starts to give out, she swirls inwards into the center of the circle, settling slowly to the grass next to the big rakshasa, panting and glowing with exhausted ecstasy. Her eyes glitter in the moonlight as she pants softly, utterly careless of the condition she's in, and she grins with almost manic joy, whispering, "It worked!" before she collapses unconscious, like a puppet whose strings have been cut.

Ravana catches Mikal easilly before she collapses. The delicious scent of her, mixed with her flittering clothing... all of it sings out to him. But the honor in obeying the stricture wins out (not to mention keeping his heads) and he simply lets her down gently onto the ground to rest. It is as he is carefully arranging her and himself, so that she might lie comfortably against a thick-furred tiger flank, that he winces and goes "ow!" softly. He holds up his paw, more curious than hurt, frowning at it in a way that only a tiger can frown, at the not-entirely-tiny splinter that has lodged itself into his pad. He blinks at it for a very long time, wondering why there aren't waves of burning pain sleeting through his paw and arm, and why there's just a dull throbbing of hurt.

Finally his eyes widen a little in understanding, and he looks at the unconscious/sleeping Ninshubur, cradled in the arc of the tiger. "Yes, Adorable One," he murmurs. "It worked indeed!"

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