Bough -- Logs

Hadn't they already come back from dream-France? Hadn't they already crossed the peak of Mount Meru? Even so, it seems reasonably natural for them to be here, again, at the Raksasha encampment in their lean-to tent.

Mikal stretches in lazy contentment, then curls back up against Jareth. She's not sure why, but he always makes her feel so wonderfully strange -- like there's a part of her she can't remember, but he can.

Ravana has been carefully judging his time to speak with Mikal about the yoni puja. None of the rakshasa are sculptors and finding a statue of Radha might take quite a while with the complications of battle with the angel, so the Lord of the Rakshasa has decided to ask Ninshubur to serve as the living embodiment of the goddess.

In the course of judging his timing carefully, he has found himself very aware of just what Mikal and Jareth are doing.

Mikal is a hunter at heart, and at some point she raises her head alertly, listening carefully and turning slowly back and forth... then she whispers to Raphael, [Is someone stalking around out there, Raph?]

Mikal quietly draws her bow close, trying not to wake her lovely mate.

Ravana is on his next circuit by the open-sided pavilion being shared by the mortals and notices that the sounds are no longer whimpers and whispers, but soft breathing and the occasional rustle. He doesn't even realize that he's been moving at a nearly-silent tigerish stalk, or that he's faded back as if he doesn't want to be seen. As he moves toward the pavilion, his expression is intent and quite serious

Mikal nocks an arrow and waits silently, aiming at the faint sounds she's catching. As the sounds seem to head for the entrance, she indicates Raphael should slide to one side of the entrance -- and she draws the bow.

Ravana scratches at the door of the tent, nostrils flaring a little. In this form, he can't actually smell the sex, but his imagination is quite good. He's leaning toward the silk fabric waiting for an answer.

At Mikal's whispered mental nudge, Raphael twitches back the entrance panel with one paw-hand, ready to leap on whomever comes through. Mikal is aiming directly at the person at the opening, and Ravana can see her blink, then without lowering the bow, say perplexedly, "Ravana Lord, why were you stalking around our pavilion?"

Ravana's broad brown eyes blink as the pavilion door is pulled aside. His eyes are supernaturally quick to adjust to the dimness and he's greeted with the sight of a tangle-haired hutress-goddess with her weapon at the ready, guarding her peacefully nude and sprawled mate. The scent of lovemaking is in the air and the rakshasa's mind has no problem putting that together with the sounds form earlier to equal a rather lovely picture. As a consequence, his voice is a little growly as it comes out, "I was waiting until you and your mate were not occupied to ask a boon."

Mikal considers that for a moment... then grins, lowering her bow, "It must be quite the boon, if you've been stalking the pavilion for a while!" She carefully puts the arrow and bow back into the gorytus, then rises, casually flipping a silken sheet over her shoulders and one arm in an impromptu covering. She paces out with Raphael, seeming somehow utterly sure Ravana will make room for her to exit.

Ravana does make room for Mikal to exit the pavilion, but not too much room. She won't have to squeeze past, but her sheet may brush against him. The rakshasa follows after her until they're far enough away from the pavilion to not wake Jareth, "We have been planning the puja that are proper for the blessing we have been given."

Mikal brushes her wild-curled hair back out of her face and nods relaxedly, "Is it ready? I would like to attend, but we should probably bathe first." The golden silk sheet swirls loosely about her small body, one edge lying over Ravana's feet. Mikal's smile up at the very tall rakshasa is curiously, sweetly relaxed, the sheet billowing slightly in the breeze, then rather clearly outlining the girl as it presses against her.

The smile forms slowly on Ravana's lips as Mikal asks her question, "Bathing first would be quite proper, but it's not yet. We have been casting about for a proper representation of Radha. None of us are gifted with the skill of a sculptor and trying to procure a statue would be a long process and this should be done soon."

Mikal nods gravely as she listens, absently brushing one errand curl behind her ear again.

Ravana smiles, "So, the most fitting thing would be to have a living representation of the yoni for the puja."

Mikal thinks about that for a bit, frowning as she curls the strand of hair around her finger... then she nods decisively, looking back up at the rakshasa, "That sounds quite reasonable. You'll need either someone you've not had sex with, or for whom you hold great respect, of course, as well as their being as mature and ascended as you can find." She smiles again, her eyes bright with interest, "Who did you have in mind? Your wife?"

Ravana smiles and reaches to tuck another strand behind Mikal's ear, voice still a little low and rumbly, "She is not here. Nor will she be for quite some time. I have been thinking on who it would be best to ask and the only name that kept coming to mind was yours, Ninshubur."

Mikal looks a bit startled, "Me?!" As she thinks about that, the wind teases the sheet into flaring out and baring one pale side. Still considering, she flips the sheet back over her shoulder, startlingly casual about how much was momentarily revealed, and leaving her thigh bared. She looks back up at Ravana, her expression considering, "Cat and Wolf are also invited to attend, if I accept your invitation to fill this position for you?"

Ravana is doing his best to keep his concentration on the question at hand, but the flash of lovely skin is distracting and he has to think a moment to parse the question, "Of course they are welcome to attend, lovely one. They are your pack and part of this."

Mikal nods and smiles, relaxing. She leans to casually pick a flower from a bush growing next to the pavilion entrance, and appreciatively sniffs it as she murmurs, "So, what would I be required to do, please?" She smiles up at Ravana again. her eyes sparkly with happiness as she holds the flower in the hand she's also holding up the sheet with against her small breasts.

Ravana says, "You would represent the sacred female. You would be nude and your yoni would be annointed with several fluids that would be mixed to be sacred libations for those present." His smile stays quite naturally in place, "If it is full Tantra, there would be careful worship of your yoni as well. But that is only if you are comfortable with such a thing."

Mikal frowns thoughtfully, considering. "This does not sound too far off from the sacred act itself. What would careful worship entail, please?"

Ravana chuckles softly and says, "Touching with the hands and mouth. Stimulation and caresses. Possibly consummation of the sacred act, but that is not required." His voice leaves it obvious that though it is not required, it would be quite welcome.

Mikal nods slowly, studying the flower she's holding. After a moment she looks up at Ravana, beaming sunnily as she tucks the scarlet blossom behind one ear, "All right, I would be happy to be of such assistance!"

Ravana's expression shows his pleasure at her acceptance much more clearly than his surprise, "It will be tomorrow evening at sundown, Ninshubur."

The wind runs teasing fingers through her hair, sending strands trailing over her pale front, just above her breasts, and she brushes it back casually as she nods, "That is good; I'll have enough time to bathe." She pauses at a sudden, worrisome thought, "Oh, wait -- I can pick some flowers, but I don't have any makeup or jewelry with me! Do you have some I might borrow, to do justice to Radharani's puja?"

Ravana nods. He himself is bare from the waist up and wearing the sort of long skirt-like kilt that he seems to favor when in camp, "Such things can most definitely be provided, lovely one."

Mikal looks relieved, "Excellent. If I'm remembering correctly, even when nude a proper lady wears her makeup and jewelry, yes? I would not embarrass anyone there accidentally, especially during a holy ritual." She smiles with quiet happiness up at Ravana again, adding, "Tomorrow, then -- around noon? Are there any women in camp who can help me prepare, so I'm sure to do it correctly?"

Ravana's smile has grown quite wide to show his teeth, "You have learned well. Yes, the jewelry and makeup would be worn during the puja. There are some few of my followers that could assist you. I have two in mind."

Mikal looks pleased, although she's a bit curious as to why he's baring his teeth. "Excellent! Thank you; I know it's supposed to be quite ornate." Politely she adds, "Is there anything else we can help you with?"

The lord of the rakshasa bows and salaams to Mikal, "No, this is quite generous of you, Ninshubur. You have our thanks."

Mikal smiles and bows her head in return, then politely bids adieu to him before she turns and heads back into the tent. The breeze brushes Mikal's hair aside again, and the winding sheet gives Ravana a clear view of her entire back, down to the dimples at the top of her rear.

Mikal pads silently into the pavilion through the entrance Raphael holds open for her with his body. He glances over his shoulder at the big rakshasa, his long tongue lolling out in amusement -- then he too vanishes inside, pulling the silken entryway closed behind him.

Ravana lets his gaze linger quite appreciatively as the wind ripples the sheet and sends her hair flowing out. And then he fades back into the camp, intent on searching out the women that will help Mikal in her preparations.

Mikal drops the sheet unconcernedly as she goes to curl up next to Jareth again. She's got until noon tomorrow... maybe she can draw her lovely mate for some more of that wonderful loving he does, that makes her feel so light-headed?

Jareth turns out to be more than willing to be drawn into lovemaking. Mikal's increasing eagerness and openness is rather intoxicating to him.

Mikal has been feeling curiously... almost dizzy with her beloved! It's as she's lying panting softly with him, some time later, that she mentions Ravana's visit, and explains what he wants from her, "He needs someone to sit in for the Yonipuja, someone appropriate. Will you come too, with Raph, so I don't feel alone?"

Jareth is a bit somnolent as Mikal explains Ravana's request and he does his very best not to set his jaw against the concept. Mikal seems comfortable with it and seems to know what it entails, so he breathes very carefully until the jealous spasm passes and says, "Of coures, ma petite, I wouldn't miss it for the world."

Mikal sighs happily, "Oh, good! I'm asking especially because, if I understand correctly, for it to be really strong they'll need someone to use their hands and mouth in worship as well -- maybe even to help me perform the sacred act itself." She grins with shy pleasure at Jareth from behind her tousled bangs, adding softly, "I, um... I'd be awful honored if you'd be willing to do that for me, please?"

Jareth's brows nearly disappear into his bangs and he says, "Worship... with hands and mouth... Sweet love, does that mean what it sounds like it means? With witnesses?"

Mikal nods calmly, "That part, yes. If I'm remembering correctly, the fluids are important." She explains the ceremony, then adds cheerfully as she stretches luxuriantly next to Jareth, "but the actual sacred sex? That's holy; it imparts the me, the gifts of civilization from my Lady. That should be private, you know?" Firmly she add, "Or at least that's the way I was taught, and I'm going to follow that!"

Jareth is unconscious in his stroking of Mikal's hair, and he relaxes a little bit. The idea of sex with someone watching doesn't particularly bother him, but some part of him is still quite possessive of his lovemaking with Mikal, "Keeping to that might be the best idea, yes..." He frowns a bit, "Do I have to prepare in some way?"

Mikal nods relaxedly, "Bathe, taking particular care in the purity of your thoughts and your body. Dress as finely as you wish, wear flowers in respect to Krishna since you will be standing in for him symbolically..." She thinks a bit, then smiles with that same contented sweetness, "Pray to he and his Lady, to help you be a worthy icon for him? That's what I'll be doing."

Mikal tangles her fingers in Jareth's soft hair as she happily adds, "Although I cannot imagine how you couldn't be worthy, considering how loving you are."

Jareth smiles and nuzzles against Mikal's hand, "I will do my very best, mon lapin."

Mikal adds wryly, "A lot of this will depend on how comfortable I feel. If the ritual doesn't feel right to me, I'm going to have to cut it short, and you won't get to participate... but we won't feel stared at either, you know? So you probably shouldn't mention you're willing to do this until I ask you to, if that's all right, mon beau chat, please."

The hours until noon pass as quietly as can be expected in a camp that's on a permanent war footing. Food is brought for the mortals, though the rakshasa know it is not needed. They still wish to offer the hospitality of it. Jareth agrees to not mention his participation in any outright way. However, he asks questions about proper offerings for the puja, one of the younger braves goes with him to find flowers and other things. When noon comes, two of the younger female rakshasa and one who looks as if she has been around for quite a long time, come to Mikal with the jewelry and make-up she will be wearing. The elder is carrying a pot of a greenish paste and several fine-tipped metal styli.

Mikal smiles, welcoming them into the pavilion, "Hello! I've bathed, so I'm ready for whatever you need." She knows a large part of the rituals of preparation with the women is the simple, friendly socializing. Somewhat to her surprise, she finds she's looking forward to that! She hopes the rakshasa women are friendly too.

The younger women are positively chatty for rakshasa and the older one has seen many rituals and has a warmly nostalgic way of speaking about them. The younger females help with the jewelry and the draping of the cloth that will decorate Mikal as she represents the goddess. They ask permission to darken her hair with a stain they promise will wash out... eventually.

Mikal laughs and cheerfully gives permission -- she's never had black hair before, so this should be fun! She almost trances out during the multiple hours necessary for the application of the henna, and she's astonished and admiring of the beauty of the patterns when they're done, complimenting the painter. She also patiently holds still for the makeup: kohl to darken around her eyes, rouge to flush her lips and cheeks, and the many glittering little bindis that arch in smooth curves over her eyebrows.

The stain is joined by an oil to smooth and scent her hair. When they are done, she smells sweetly of sandalwood and patchouli and her golden-from-the-sun skin is decorated lavishly. One of the rakshasa girls is almost wistful about Mikal's lack of a nostril piercing and puts away an ornate piece of jewelry meant to adorn just such a thing. At the end, the older woman drapes the beautifuly embroidered and batiked veil over Mikal's head and the three of them bow their way out, letting her know they will return to escort her.

Mikal thanks them with genuine happiness, then settles peacefully in place to pray to her own Lady of Greatest Heart: that she be an acceptable participant in the YoniPuja, and that Inanna bless her vizier's efforts on both her part, and that of Radharani.

The hours between noon and sunset pass quietly and calmly. Jareth checks in with Mikal only once, not wanting to disturb her meditations. He himself spends his time by the stream, finding the water calming. As the day turns toward sunset, the two young rakshasa that helped Mikal prepare come to get her.

Mikal rises with careful grace, her eye shining with quiet happiness. Seeing Jareth has made her feel rather lovely inside, and she feels strongly her Lady is with her in this. Now she will do her best to be an acceptable embodiment of the transcendant Supreme Goddess of this mountain's pantheon; she's very much in a different mindset than she would be as Mikal. Her hips sway smoothly as she walks, and the little bells on her glittering decorations chime and jingle harmoniously as she paces silently between her much taller companions. Her eyes are heavy-lidded and her face serene as she sings softly to herself, internally: Krishna, as a man loved by many fickle women, will always come back to the pure divine love of Radha who, by worshipping him, makes him God... and today she walks as Radha for her beloved.

The young rakshasa lead Mikal to a bower that has been prepared with the camp's statue of Krishna. The statue of the god has been garlanded with flowers and offerings of food and salt are heaped before him. Beside Krishna is a bed of cushions and blossoms. There is a pavilion over the statue and the three sides are closed, the third is currently open but it can be easily closed. Most of the camp is gathered.

Ravana is there as well. The lord of the rakshasa is dressed in all of his finery as well, gold and rich fabrics draping his body, though his chest and stomach are still bare. There are murmurs of awe at the appearance of the, to the rakshasa, tiny mortal woman in her role as Radha.

Mikal pauses, taking a deep breath at sight of the tent and the small multitude gathered there. She'd thought perhaps such an intimate ritual might be conducted with fewer than everyone present... but now she thinks about it, she supposes her chastisement of Ravana back at the clearing would naturally cause such a reaction. In a way it's due to her that they're all here... so she straightens and works on keeping a serene demeanor. She does look around, though, for Raphael and Jareth -- she wants them close!

Jareth and Raphael are at hand, indeed. Jareth has had to concentrate rather carefully, but he is dressed in clothes that are nearly as ornamental as Ravana's. He remembered what the lord of the rakshasa wore when he made the announcement of the change in their curse and copied much of it. He is wearing one of the odd skirt-like garments and is dressed only in jewels and gold from the waist up. The smile of joy that lights up his face when he sees Mikal looks like it might show every one of his teeth it's so broad.

Mikal's eyes also light up at sight of her sweetheart, and she holds out her small, henna-decorated hands to both her packmates. If they'll join her, she walks up with them, holding Jareth's hand and the other hand resting on Raphael's flower-bedecked mane.

Jareth is more than happy to take Mikal's hand and walk with her. Ravana, seeing this, tips his head just slightly. He had made no mention of Jareth or Raphael participating in the puja and had indeed meant to take the role of Krishna himself. Still, he presses his palms together and bows low to Mikal, murmuring a greeting.

Mikal smiles shyly at all the rakshasa present, her face aglow with happiness. She pauses before the little pavilion to return the bow to Ravana. When she straightens her voice is soft, and she is unwittingly imitating the classic version of Radha as perfect, shy young woman of 16 when she asks, "If I may, I would ask your patience with my inexperience, and your guidance on how I should properly behave?" She doesn't want to assume, and simply hop into the little nest of cushions next to Krishna... she's pretty sure she should perform puja for Krishna as well, and she wants to be sure her beloved packmates are close as well -- especially with this many eyes watching! She hopes Ravana takes a moment to instruct them all in proper thoughts on the ritual too; the thought of that much salaciousness directed at her is a bit unnerving.

Ravana murmurs, "We will offer puja to Lord Krishna and then you will recline on the bed of flowers for the puja to Radha to be performed."

Mikal nods with a bit of relief. She smiles up at the rakshasi, "Would you assist me in disrobing, please, when it is time?"

Mikal isn't sure precisely why, but Ravana is starting to feel... surprisingly... large for some reason! Almost like he's looming or something; she feels a faint sense of pressure building inside her, like she's missing something important and she can't tell what. An odd sense like that makes her want to keep those she trusts close -- or even just feels faintly comfortable with currently.

Ravana smiles, just a smile not a leer, and agrees to help. He then stands and offers his hand to lead her to the statue of Krishna. There are ten vessels, five on either side of the statue. The rakshasa's voice is soft as he explains what is expected. In front of the actual statue of Krishna is a Shiva linga, an upright stone set into a basin with a spout.

In quiet tones, he explains that each of the sacred liquids is to be poured over the linga to be empowered. They will each pour into a clean vessel and once the linga puja is finished, those same sacred fluids will be used in the yoni puja, mixed together and given to the rakshasa to allow them to share the blessing and power of the ritual.

The vessels contain yoghurt, water, honey, milk and almond oil.

Mikal nods slowly, listening carefully as she glances back and forth at the various vessels being shown to her. She so wishes to do this absolutely correctly! -both for the deities, and the gathered rakshasa. She checks, her voice also very soft, to make sure she has the order correct, and at Ravana's nod she beams up at him in sunny relief! She looks gravely back at the statue then, taking a moment to gather herself... then she draws one of the blossoms from her wreathes and pulls the petals, tossing them on the statue reverently. Singing a soft prayer half to herself for love and guidance, she carefully follows the directions given to her by Ravana: she slowly and carefully pours each of the sacred liquids over the lingam into the clean vesel provided for each.

Mikal prays internally the courtesies she would extend ordinarily to Inanna are suitable for Radha's symbol to offer to her Krishna as well.

Ravana and Jareth stand back and to Mikal's sides, seeming like a reverent guard over her as she consecrates the sacred fluids one after the other. Jareth follows Ravana's cues in bowing low, hands pressed together right in front of his chest.

Mikal carefully sets down the last of the vessels once she's done, then smiles and turns to face Ravana and Jareth, "It is done. I pray Krishna Lord accepts and sanctifies the offering." She bows in return to them, then waits, her expression serene, for guidance from Ravana again. Now the ceremony has begun, she feels much less pressured -- almost as if she's growing or blossoming, in fact. It's a curiously pleasant sensation.

Ravana steps forward and bows again to Mikal and murmurs, "It is time for you to recline." His large hands reach forward to carefully lift the dupatta from her head.

Mikal nods calmly, tilting her small face up towards Ravana so it's easier for him to remove the embroidered, decorated silken veil. Once he's lifted it up and away from her, she holds out a hand to Jareth, smiling at him and murmuring, "A hand so I move gracefully, please?" With his assistance she steps carefully up and into the comfortable little pile of cushions and blossoms. She beams at him as she releases his hand, then glances inquiringly at Ravana, to make sure she's in the right place and settled correctly so all the sacred fluids can be collected as they are poured.

Mikal feels curiously right just now, despite being no longer covered in any clothing whatsoever. At the sweet and well-remembered chiming of her jewelry she has to remind herself: at the request of Inanna, she is here for the Radha Rani -- not for her Lady of Greatest Heart. She unwittingly hums one of the prayer songs she's sung so many times, as she carefully shifts and settles herself, taking a moment to brush back her long, flower-bedecked, now-dark hair so it falls in somewhat tidy curls down her back. Another moment to make sure none of the anklets or bracelets are uncomfortable, and everything is lying in glittering elegance against her bare, decorated skin... then she sighs in soft pleasure and smiles to herself. She's ready; she closes her eyes and prays silently that Radha accepts her earnest offering of her self for this puja. Her eyes are almost dreamy when she opens them again, and she can smell the sweet scent of incense and almonds as she smiles at Ravana, murmuring, "I am ready, lord of ra

"I am ready, lord of rakshasas. Please, continue?"

When Mikal opens her eyes again, it is to see an awed Jareth and an even more awed Ravana. The young mortal moves carefully out of the way, knowing that the room will be needed, but he stays close enough that he can answer a summons from Mikal. Ravana steps forward and kneels before Mikal. There is something about him at the moment that is magnetic and it would be easy to forget that there are other people present at the ritual. The rakshasa are nearly silent.

Mikal blushes faintly, her eyes bright at how beautiful her lovely mate is, and her delighted smile follows him as he steps back. When Ravana moves forward before her, her gaze turns to him and she smiles again, although she unwittingly offers him more the demeanor offered to a dear friend than to a lover.

Ravana's hands are gentle as they help Mikal shift just a little bit more and his voice is pleasant and relaxing, rhythmic as he chants prayers to Krishna and Radharani in his native tongue. The cadence and tone are much different than the tongue spoken in Staunton and even different than the other languages Mikal has heard or knows. The rakshasa caresses Mikal reverently, touching the crown of her head, her forehead, her throat, between her breasts over her navel and then carefully her yoni and perineum. Careful handfuls of flowers are scattered over the nude young woman and only then does he lift the first earthen vessel.

Mikal feels incredibly right just now. Her expression remains peaceful; she's well into being half-tranced by the time Ravana picks up the vessel, her body relaxed and a wonderfully expectant internal sensation suffusing her.

Ravana is still singing his prayers as he raises the first vessel and begins to carefully pour the libation over Mikal's yoni, letting the thin yoghurt trickle over her sacred vessel. The careful positioning of her body lets it trickle directly into the larger vessel set there to collect the offerings as they are energized by contact with the representation of the goddess. Sanctifying them with the linga was only the first step, and as with nature, both god and goddess are needed, but the final synthesis of ritual comes from the goddess. The liquid is slightly cool as it touches the girl's skin. Ravana whispers to her that it represents the element of Earth.

Mikal nods slowly, her doe-eyed expression dreamily relaxed as she gazes almost sightlessly out over the gathered rakshasa. She's looking mostly within, meditating on the Goddess and singing internally of the joy of the dance of life which all women know.

The next vessel is honey and it has been warmed just enough to flow easily. The warmth of it after the chill of the yoghurt is pleasant and has a focusing effect on the senses, partially because of the way some of it still clings to the skin in amber drops like jewels. Ravana's low voice whispers that it represents Fire.

Mikal draws in her breath slowly and deeply, starting to feel a strong internal tingle, like energy rising up her body from the touch of Fire's element. Her hands close, then open again, and her bracelets chime musically as she exhales; she feels almost as if she should be breathing out steam.

Mikal says, "****EDITOR: Earth, water, fire, air -- in that order."

The second vessel is sweet, pure water, washing away the traces of yoghurt and thinning it. Ravana sings the prayer for it in a language that Mikal can understand, whispering of the way that water ties all living things together and how life comes from water in the mother.

Mikal shivers slightly with pleasure, oddly reminded of birth and sensuality as he sings. She rests one hand for a moment on him, to balance herself at the curiously dizzy sensation she gets at those thoughts. It's a little like being with Jareth -- no, wait: she's trying to manifest Radha. Yes, that's right; she's seeking to be ever-attractive to her all-attractive lover. Her serene face warms in an affectionate smile.

Editor: Then honey.

Fourth, Ravana takes up the vessel of rich goat's milk and pours it over Mikal's yoni to flow between her thighs and into the vessel beneath her. He uses it to wash away a little of the honey, enough so that she will not be messily sticky, and tells her how it was taken from a mother goat just before the ceremony and that is why it is still a little warm. It represents Air and the way that knowledge is passed from mother to child.

When Mikal touches him, Ravana raises his head to smile at her. It is an inviting and warm smile, intimate and has that curious mixture of hunger and awe that she has seen in Jareth's face just before lovemaking.

Mikal shudders again, tilting her face up towards the sky. The pavilion's embroidered silken roof is above, but she feels like she can feel the sun pouring love down upon her bare skin... does Radha feel like this before Krishna's awed gaze? She remembers with a pang of longing being the spiritual mirror of her Queen of Heaven; she remembers feeling like this when she went to her lovers, her anklets jingling and the bells on her hip sash chiming, their eyes wide with the same emotion she can see before her... an almost confusing tumble of images whirl through her mind, and she suddenly remembers the taste and scent of power, and that her love brings the sacred, civilizing me to men...

Last of all, Ravana lifts a vessel smaller than the rest. This one holds sweet almond oil and he pours it reverently over Mikal's yoni to mix with the other fluids, leaving her skin gleaming softly, mimicking very closely the image of a woman very ready for her lover. He whispers that it represents the Aethyr, the unknown and unknowable, that which is the undefinable spark of soul, of humanity.

Mikal breathes deeply again; this time her exhalation is a softly reverent purr of sound. Her eyes are heavy-lidded again, and her hands clench once again as she unwittingly recapitulates Radha's impatience for the return of her Beloved.

Mikal's dreamy gaze searches for her Beloved; she knows he's close -- she can almost feel him, taste his skin! She languidly turns one hand palm up as her head slowly turns in her quest.

Once the last dribble of oil has poured into the large vessel, Ravana bows his head and quite reverently places a kiss on Mikal's yoni. It's not like the kisses Jareth has bestowed there, there is no teasing flicker of tongue, but it is a warm and intimate touch and his mustache brushes her skin lightly before he raises his head and stands, holding the admixtured fluids. The two rakshasi that helped Mikal bathe and dress step forward and one takes the vessel while the other carries an ornate ladle.

The two rakshasi seem only to be stirring the five sacred fluids carefully, mixing them together so that they are a whole rather than simply five things in one pot.

Mikal shivers again, a soft, purring growl coming to her lips. She feels almost as if she's shivering a mantle of mental fur over her shoulders, or a sensual magnetism perhaps... she wants her Beloved, and soon -- and if they wish to partake of her holy fluids, they'd better not make her wait too long. This lovely, odd tingling sensation is no longer confined to her lower body, like it is while making love with her sweetheart. Instead it feels oddly as if she's filling with some indefineable liquid, rising in slow, powerful tides... she doesn't know what will happen when she overflows, but she does know she feels weirdly, pleasantly hollow -- as if she too were a sacred vessel.

At the shiver, Ravana's hands gently shift Mikal's thighs and his fingers move to caress her petals, eyes raising to her face to see her reaction to his touch.

Jareth's eyes are almost glazed and he stands with one hand on Raphael's mane. He hasn't moved forward yet because it doesn't seem proper.

It's clear when Mikal spots Jareth -- her eyes blaze in sudden brightness, as if a fire roared up within her. She laughs softly, glowing with joy and holding out one small, henna-patterned hand to him. Her languid gaze is drawn to the touch on her thighs, and she smiles lazily when she sees Ravana there. She gently rests the fingertips of her free hand on his lips, murmuring in a soft, low voice that's practically purring with joyous pleasure, "Thank you, rakshasa lord, for your guidance. My Beloved and I will do our best to give you the sacred fluids you have requested."

Ravana's eyes darken for just a moment as the part of him that has been behaving as best he can is nearly overwhelmed by the moment and proximity to the lovely mortal woman. The thought of how it would break his oath (and lose him his heads!) allows him to bow his head and stand gracefully as he realizes that it will be Jareth and not himself joining with her. "Our thanks, lovely Ninshubur..." He steps aside, letting her mate move to join her upon the blossom-covered bed.

Mikal smiles up at him with quiet happiness -- then her gaze turns to Jareth again, and the fire of her desire for her Beloved flares brightly once more in her joyous opening of her arms to him.

Jareth steps forward, eyes bright and joyous at being beckoned forward. He pauses and bows to Ravana, murmuring sincere thanks to the rakshasa and finding taht he was not at all jealous of the intimate touch or the kiss at the conclusion of the ritual. Ravana's smile in return is wry, but he yields and lets Jareth pass before letting down the fourth side of the pavilion to give the mortal lovers privacy.

Once they are alone in the pavilion save for the statue of Krishna, Jareth goes to his beloved and leans over her, cupping Mikal's face in both hands. He kisses her and whispers, "My sweet golden goddess, love of my heart..." his voice is hoarse and he feels like his heart is in his throat.

Mikal whispers softly to Jareth, as she welcomes him with the gentle kiss, "Your sacred exaltation is an exact expression of your consciousness, my Beloved. Come to me?" After that she expresses herself with the heartfelt sincerity of touch and glance and soft sounds, rather than words.

Jareth remembers quite clearly that worship with hands and with mouth was mentioned and when Mikal whispers for him to come to her, the young man kneels and kisses the tops of her feet. And then he smiles up at her with love and desire in his face and proceeds with sweet touch and hungry kisses to worship and adore the goddess in his lover. Though he's trembling with passion, he doesn't move to sate himself.

Mikal shivers blissfully again, her shoulders rolling with the strange restlessness energy surging and churning inside her. Her head is thrown back in growing rapture, and the small, joyous sounds coming unheeded from her parted lips are like birdsong at dawn. The fingers of one hand tangle lightly in Jareth's soft hair as his sweet kisses rise up her trembling body, and she slowly draws him closer.

At her urging, he tugs the skirt-like garment off and slides up along Mikal's body, whispering his own prayers and praise of her sweetness and strength. When he is over her, positioned so that his mouth is hovering over hers, his lingam brushing lightly over her yoni, he whispers his love to her and carefully slides himself into her.

Mikal groans in languid sensual ecstasy, her head tossed back and her eyes closed as her body arches up to meet his. Her arms twine about his neck, and a few delicious strokes later, she pulls herself up to him, whispering that he should sit up and pull her into his lap so they are heart to heart.

Jareth does as she whispers, sitting up and pulling her into his lap, cradling her close against his own body. His eyes are exultant and he whispers to her in French, reverting to it as he loses himself in the worship.

To the young bard, it feels as if he is holding living light in his arms and his heart is racing with it.

Mikal dreamily wraps herself around him, nearly purring with pleasure at his soft, heartfelt tones even if she can't understand the words. She falls easily into the shift and sway of the most ancient, sacred dance, crooning joy back to him in return as she shares impassioned embraces, their hair loosened in the pleasant sensual arts, teasing to madness with fervent kisses and the dance of love. His mouth is ambrosia to her as she savors his lips, his skin, his mouth; she incites him with her shyly knowing smile as he clasps her close in his arms, pressed to his chest; he is ravished by her love as she drops limp as a liana into his arms, stilled by rapture, at the moment love's work is complete.

The sweet dance of love and passion, worship and joy is intoxicating and Jareth finds that he is not reaching for that point of physical ecstasy but of spiritual climax. The overwhelming moment of sensation and spiritual ecstasy comes with an unexpected lagniappe: as Mikal succumbs to the worship and the eager touch of her lover, the energy of the universe and a gift is passed through her to be bestowed upon her lover. One of the sacred 'me' is passed into Jareth's soul and mind.

As they hold one another, Jareth realizes that he now holds knowledge that he did not before. His voice has always been pleasant, but now he opens his mouth and he sings softly to Mikal, a song of awe and adoration and the voice that comes from him sounds as if it came from the dawn of the universe, touching the heart.

Mikal is both exhausted and elated! To parts of her, this is what sacred sex is, what she is supposed to embody and share. She feels full to bursting with ecstasy as well as dizzy with joy, and she laughs aloud in rapture. She strokes Jareth with delight, her fingers tracing the dear planes and curves of his face, his hair, his throat, his body; then she sighs in quiet bliss and lays her head on his chest, murmuring softly, "I love you so much, my beloved."

Jareth uses one hand to smooth Mikal's hair, love throbbing in his voice as he answers, "You live in my heart, beloved." He nuzzles into her throat, laying kisses there as he tries to catch his breath.

The young bard, is feeling as if his mind is utterly full, his body still trembling with the physical pleasure as he tries to cope with the spiritual and mental ecstasy of having something so large channeled into him through the joining with his lover.

Mikal is brimming with euphoria -- she's not ever felt so right in her life before as Mikal! She giggles softly, feeling somewhat drunken on pleasure, and whispers to Jareth, "We shou- we should give the vessel to Ravana Lord, so they can make the libation, yes? I think tha's the next step?"

Jareth's eyes look like they're black, the pupils are so dilated. He brushes Mikal's hair back and kisses her carefully, as if he's trying hard to remember how to do it properly, "Mmm... yes... libations."

Mikal happily returns the kiss, easily distracted at this moment. She sighs contentedly, stroking one small hand over his chest as she hums softly to herself, and it takes a few minutes for her to realize they're still seated over the wide bowl. She blinks a bit owlishly down at it, then giggles quietly again, nuzzling against Jareth's chest, "Gotta move, sweet chat, if we're gonna give the bowl back to the rashaks- rasash- darnit!" She giggles tipsily again, then adds, "Uhh... the tiger-people, yes!"

Jareth nods and smiles slowly, "Yes, little love... but we need to be careful not to move too much..."

Mikal thinks about that, then nods, "Good point!" She considers a bit more -- only slightly distracted by playing with Jareth's hair -- then adds cheerfully, "I'll move and you stay still, okay?" She shifts slightly so she's carefully kneeling over Jareth's lap, then adds, "Can you shift out from under now?" As she looks at Jareth's face she beams, murmuring softly, "You've got light in you! Did you receive one of the holy me, lovely chat?"

Jareth smiles very much like a cat, one that's gotten into the cream, and leans in to nip gently at Mikal's bottom lip, "We'll speak of that soon, beloved.." He carefully moves himself from beneath Mikal, reluctant to part from her.

One of Mikal's hands trails lightly along Jareth's skin; it's clear she doesn't want to lose contact with him either. She sighs happily, murmuring, "I think you did -- I'm not bursting with your energy, so you must've given it reverently, which means I can return it back to you with the me. If you'd just been lustful, you'd have given your energy upon release, but I wouldn't have been able to gift back to you, you know?" She waits a bit, kneeling over the bowl and whispering a soft prayer before she moves away from it.

Jareth moves to recline on the little flower-strewn pallet, smiling in dreamy pleasure at the sight of Mikal praying over the holy libation created in this ritual. "Mmmm... not purely lustful, no. I couldn't watch that ritual and have it be pure lust."

Mikal beams at Jareth once she's done with the prayer, her eyes shining in the dim light as she casually pushes her hair back out of her face. Her voice is softly reverent, "Thank you, love. I... it's reassuring to hear I still remember how to do this correctly." She rises slowly and carefully, as if she's not completely sure yet how to move her body, then stretches her arms over her head. After that she glances at Jareth and smiles, "Ready to come out with me, mon chat beau?" as she kneels and very carefully picks up the wide bowl full of liquids.

Jareth stretches languidly and reaches for the cloth he was wearing, winding it around his waist carefully and reaching to carefully twist Mikal's hair into a knot at the base of her skull, kissing the nape of her neck as he does so, "Yes, mon lapin."

Mikal grins, holding still with the wide bowl in her hands as her sweetheart tidies up her hair. After that she murmurs softly, "Can you hold back the entrance cloth, please?" Her eyes are carefully fixed on the bowl so she doesn't slosh anything out, and she's taking tiny, cautious steps.

Jareth is moving extremely carefully, eyes still almost black in their dilation. He feels as if his skin is no longer big enough to hold all of him and he wraps his arms around Mikal's waist, "Bide a moment, beloved..."

Mikal pauses carefully, glancing sideways at Jareth, "Mmm?"

Jareth holds Mikal back against his chest and closes his eyes, carefully lining his breathing up with hers, humming softly as if looking for the right note for a song.

Mikal smiles quietly, letting her head rest back against his chest as she cradles the big bowl in her arms.

As Mikal is leaning back against him, recreating the connection between them, the information that was fed into him the moment of ecstasy starts to integrate itself with his soul and mind. He has just enough time to mumble, "Falling..." before he collapses into a graceless heap behind Mikal.

Mikal gives a startled squeak, swaying precariously as she tries not to spill anything. She turns around, wondering what Jareth meant by that word -- and makes another startled squeak as she realizes he meant it literally! She hastily and carefully sets the bowl down in the little pile of cushions, then whisks back to kneel next to Jareth. Her eyes are wide with shock as she checks for his pulse... she sighs and sits back in relief when she realizes he's doing fine -- just unconscious. She carefully straightens out his limbs, slips a pillow under his feet, then brushes his hair gently out of his face, leaning to give him a gentle kiss. Her voice is soft, "Hang on, my sweet Cat. I'll get some help." She rises again, scooping up the bowl, and shoulders out past the silken hanging.

Mikal has been taking some fairly severe shocks herself as well, and so even though she's somewhat used to being a holy receptable for the civilizing me to be passed on to properly reverent lovers, she finds herself hit with a small wave of dizziness as she looks up -- and sees literally hundreds of wide, unwinking feline eyes staring at her. She blinks, swaying slightly and catching her shoulder against the little pavilion's corner pole so she too doesn't collapse. In her concern and worry, she has no idea how she currently appears: tiny and almost fragile seeming; her rebelliously wavy, ravens-wing black hair escaping in a lush tumble of wild curls down her back and over her shoulders; her kohl-accentuated eyes bright with carefully reined-in, fiercely surging energy that nearly sings and glows around her, shining through her henna-decorated skin and gleaming between her parted lips. The jewelry she wears glitters as well, but its glory is muted in her current almost luminously transcendant state.

A flood of images and knowledge fills Jareth's mind in one sweeping moment that seems to have been building up since the beginning of time. Knowledge -- instruments and music, from the dawn of mortal history. "You are the one we have waited for." The statue of the woman in the garden at Chateau de Cirey, but no mere statue now, eyes intent and burning and all-consuming. "We are the ones you have waited for all these lifetimes. Pave the way for us to heal the one we love, and who scorned us in the hour of greatest need." Another image, an apple, bright red and rich, and with unseen blades cut now four ways.

Then he sees a mighty city, rising up along the slopes of a mountain and yet it's own mountain as well, and before it a tower that reaches up too; high, so high, it seems to challenge Mount Zion itself. Here in a temple, the woman from the garden looks out at the thousands who build that tower, and a tear appears in her eye, a tear she defiantly wipes away as she looks away, not watching as the tower is brought down by lightning and angels. She walks once again into the depths of the temple, where she is adored and feared, praised and loathed.

And then again, he sees her, eyes flashing. "We are one, as your lover and her goddess are now one." Spreading her arms, light explodes behind her, engulfing her, taking her away from view... as the light coalesces and becomes a massive golden wheel, the Bhavacakra, with twelve spokes, turning ponderously and unstoppably... and somewhere in there, is the Lady, and Jareth, and the both of them. "There is yet two more: he who served the gods as a Throne, and he who served the gods by not serving them.

"Help them find themselves, and the path will be made clear. And in the meantime, make yourselves whole."

The wheel turns, on and on, never stopping, turning to the music of a thousand civilizations, all playing in Jareth's mind, until, bit by bit, they merge into one another, striking Jareth with the realization that all music is one. Ultimately, these thousands of notes become one, and it is a single mantra that seems to echo throughout eternity. "Aum.... Aum.... Aum...."

The echoes fade, and there is only the silence between the syllables of that one word. And then Jareth comes to.

The two young rakshasi step hurriedly forward, one taking the vessel from Mikal, the other moving to support the fragile-seeming mortal before she can slide to the ground.

Mikal looks around a bit confusedly, swaying as she straightens with the helping hand. She knows Ravana should be out here somewhere, and she wants some assistance to move Jareth someplace safe, where he can recover in peace. "N-need... move Jareth..." She glances down in relief as she feels the familiar coarse, thick hair of Raphael's mane under her hand, and she braces herself against him as she searches more carefully for Ravana.

Ravana comes forward, his face an expression of concern. He carefully takes Mikal's hand to help her stand. "It is well, Mikal, we will take care of him," he says quietly.

BoughGM says, "EDITOR: Change 'Mikal' to 'Ninshubur'"

Mikal sighs in relief, leaning unwittingly on the huge rakshasa as she turns and points back at the little pavilion, "Quiet place. Uh..." she tries to think what's necessary, "Cool drink, sleep. Closest tent please?"

Ravana gestures, for one of the others to help carry Mikal/Ninshubur to the nearest tent. A pair of burly braves step forward to -- somewhat gently -- carry her.

Mikal is worriedly watching the little pavilion Jareth is in; she entirely misses Ravana's silent gesture over her head. As a consequence, when he releases her hand and someone else abruptly lays hands on her, she starts noticeably, straightening and glancing around with flashing eyes, her voice outraged, "Who dares...?" Curiously, out of a clear night sky there is a sudden crack of lightning close by, followed by a low, rolling growl of thunder.

The raksasha back off hastily, blinking their luminous eyes at Mikal, and looking, nervously, at Ravana for guidance. He holds up a hand to them, then clears her throat, asking quietly and respectfully, "Ninshubur... do you wish any aid?"

Mikal glances between the rakshasa and Ravana, still standing luminously tall despite her tiny size, belatedly realizing they were attempting to offer a courtesy. She nods slowly, trying to be gracious despite her worry for Jareth, "That would be quite considerate of you; thank you. Could you move J- Cat first, though, please? I am worried for him."

Ravana confers quietly with a few of the braves, then they nod, moving to take up the unconscious form of Jareth and take him someplace more comfortable.

The female raksashi move to carefully drape a linen robe upon Mikal's shoulders, and the raksasha move to take Jareth to the tent.

It's not until they're in the tent that Jareth stirs, one hand reaching into the air and grasping as if he's trying to hold onto something that's slipping out of his reach.

One of the braves almost reflexively takes Jareth's hand. "It is well, Cat," he growls softly. "We are taking you to a more comfortable place,"

Mikal waits until Jareth is carried out by the braves -- then she hastily follows, one hand reaching up to gently brush her lover's fine hair out of his face as he's carried. In her concern for Jareth she completely forgets everyone else there, as well as her nudity and the bowl of sacred fluids the two of them worked so hard to fill.

The Raksasha carefully carry Jareth to the pavillion given over to the mortals, while several others are bringing chilled lassi.

Mikal absently wraps the robe about herself, still trotting hastily after Jareth and the rakshasa.

Jareth takes the hand of the rakshasa and blinks owlishly at him, the sound of Aum is still resonating in his mind and he feels as if his entire body is vibrating along with that sound. He has a vague thought that that's what he was looking for when he was humming before... before what? Why is he being carried?

The raksashi manage to quite discretely replace the linen robe with the silk wrap onve they have retrieved it from the tent, going with the two mortals to the pavillion. Once there, Ravana hiself remains on guard outside, so that the two mortals may not be disturbed, and letting the three raksashi tend to them without interruption.

Mikal thanks the various tiger-folk for their assistance, then sighs and settles next to her lover as he's gently laid down. She smiles down at him, her speaking still slightly slurred from the amount of power she's currently carrying, "How y'feelin', sweet Cat?"

Mikal glances up at the rakshasi, curiously checking with them at a sudden thought: did they receive enough of the sacred liquids to prepare proper libations?

Jareth takes Mikal's hands and kisses her fingertips, then her palm, and then holds it over where his heart beats in his chest. He closes his eyes again, still smiling and listening to the Aum and the silences between the syllables. When he speaks, his voice is hushed and reverent, "I can feel the universe around me. I can hear it singing to me... I can hear her..." His voice trails off as the woman's words from his vision settle in. There is going to be much he must tell his companions. Again.

The leader of the small group of raksashi, Sritishasa, nods, smiling. "Yes, we did. We are grateful to you and your lover, Ninshubur. Do you feel strong enough to speak with Lord Ravana? He did not wish you disturbed until you were feeling strong enough to speak with others. It was his belief that the ritual, while a success, was tiring for you both.

Jareth is pushing himself up on his elbows and looking around with puzzlement on his face. He's still fuzzy on how they got from the flowered bower to here.

Mikal smiles at the rakshasi, murmuring, "Let me check," then looks down at Jareth just in time to hear her lover's soft words. Her eyes glow with happiness as she smiles at him, and with her free hand she brushes his hair back from his face, murmuring, "Who's she, my Cat? Radharani? Inanna of Greatest Heart? Someone else?" She's almost literally alight with happiness -- she can still grant the holy, civilizing me!

Jareth turns to Mikal and murmurs with joy ringing in his words, almost a song unto themselves, "She is Lilith."

Mikal blinks a bit startledly at Jareth, then murmurs with her lips curving into a small smile, "Now there's a name I haven't heard in a long time! How is she?" She remembers the rakshasi, turning to cheerfully add, "Not tiring -- just so much energy, you know? Hard to hold it all in!"

Mikal remembers the name as more a category of wind spirits -- the lilitu -- but she also vaguely recalls they had a leader. In later years, she thinks there was even a time the mortals saw Lilith as Inanna's right hand -- although that was rapidly usurped, if she's remembering correctly, by the followers of the Desert King projecting their fears of independent women upon her, and casting her as a demon in their pantheon.

Jareth smiles beatifically and laughs, reaching for Mikal's right hand. He holds it over his heart as he puts his own over Mikal's heart, voice gentle, "She is... speaking again."

(Log stopped Sun Jun 28 1909 06:30 PM by "BoughGM" at "Bough Soundstage" OOC)

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