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Realms: Bough Logs

Intermezzo: Opus Polaris

It is as the three are sleepily nestled in their tent, contentedly drowsing in the warm afterglow, that things change again, subtly and slowly, but not immediately noticable. Norris notices it first -- they are not in the pavillion anymore. They are not even in the raksasha camp anymore, let alone the trail to Angkor Wat.

They stand upon a broad platform, circular and made from blue-veined white marble and inlaid with gold. Six pillars stand around the platform, with arches between them; the top is open to the starry sky. Through one of the arches a set of stairs leads downward to a broad plaza. The plaza is huge, littered with statuary, trees and bushes and other greenry, fountains, and mosaic tiling. In the heart of the circular plaza stands a great marble rostrum, an open-topped dome; a pillar of light rises from the center of the rostrum.

The plaza is surrounded by other platforms, nooks, gardens, and other features. The most noticable are the six massive gates, equidistant from each other surrounding the rostrum. Even from here the group can see the gates, as they are reached by broad, high flights of stairs. Each is similar, but is built differently: they are huge, with a pair of massive doors set between the gateway pillars, and currently all the doors are open; one is apparently made from living wood. Clockwise from the wood gate are: a gate made from white granite; one made from sandstone; one made from rich red or orange stone; one made from jade and red wood; and one made from gold.

After taking in their surroundings, the group realizes, as one, where they are: Polaris, in the great, glorious days before the Godswar.

Norris is in a white tunic, albeit one that is a bit the worse for wear, surmounted by an elaborate leathern apron. After a moment he realizes that one sandaled foot does not seem to be working the way it should.

Mikal is clothed in as she has seen herself as Ninshubur.

Jareth is dressed slightly strangely. In overall style he appears to be clothed similarly to Mikal, except that Mikal's clothing is older and more ancient in comparison -- he is not entirely sure why that is. In addition, he seems to be "done up" in the manner of a courtesan.

Yet somehow, as they look at each other, for the time being at least they do not see 'mortals,' yet neither do they see aethyrs.

Mikal looks around puzzledly, wondering where Raphael is. She looks down, checking to see if her gorytus is slung on her left hip where it belongs.

Jareth stands up slowly, looking around in puzzlement. It takes him a moment to realize that the clothes he's wearing are a woman's clothing and that his face is made up with cosmetics. Being a fairly pretty young man, it's actually somewhat of a becoming look on him, but he can't remember ever having worn anything that wasn't a male's clothing. So why does he feel so strangely comfortable like this?

Mikal whews softly in relief at sight of her gorytus, then continues looking around in slight perplexity. Finally she leans to whisper, "Jareth? Um... why are you dressed like a girl?" She grins, adding softly, "Not that it doesn't look beautiful on you, but... er, I wondered?"

Norris rises to a sitting position, quietly regarding Mikal and Jareth. There is an odd disconnect, where he understands what he sees, and at the same time doesn't understand. Given what was revealed to him, at the moment of orgasmic connect, his garb is just what it should be. So is the fact that he, and his friends, seem to be 'other'... no longer mortal. What is not explained is the why. "Spect it's got sommat t' do with who we wuz." he answers Mikal's query.

Mikal glances at Norris, then tilts her head to regard Jareth with interested curiosity, "Qadisha?"

Jareth looks down at himself and smooths his hands down the front of his clothing, shrugging with a lopsided smile. In these clothes and with the cosmetics, he could quite likely pass as female if he put a little effort into it. A lovely female, even, "Lilith, I think, ma coeur."

Norris doesn't recognize the name, and he goes to stand, regarding himself. "Dun think we remember that life yet, Rabbit. Shame, but ya plays the hand yer dealt." His brow is knit as he looks at himself in the reflection of a pool of water at a nearby fountain. "Hephaestus." he murmurs to himself. The name doesn't fit, to him. Sure, the greek deity was a builder and a forger, same as him. But it makes him feel like he should be more than he is. And he doesn't feel that way, even if he no longer scans himself as mortal. Memories come to him, of the few tales of Hephaestus there are, and it does not set him at ease.

Mikal brightens slightly, stepping over to rest one hand lightly on Jareth's chest; the other reaches up to lightly trace the smooth curve of his lips. Mikal grins as she murmurs, "That's very cool, mon beau chat! Did you know in some of the very young stories, Lilith was Inanna's handmaiden?" She smiles over her shoulder at Norris, "Which life, Norr?"

Norris looks back at Mikal. "One where I'm a greek demigod." he says tonelessly. "That sound right t' yew? Don't, t' me." He looks like a confused puppy.

Jareth smiles down at Mikal and strokes her cheek, "And there are other stories, too." He looks over at Norris and motions with his head, arching a brow to Mikal before he moves to put a hand on Norris' shoulder, "Poor Bear."

Mikal smiles, turning to patter lightfootedly over to Norris. She puts her arms around his waist for as far as she can reach, murmuring reassuringly, "Don't worry so, little brother. Do I look like the Queen of the East to you?"

Jareth's lips twitch. "I shan't ask what I look like to you, Norris. But... you look the same to me. Physically."

Norris is calmed by the touch of his friends, right enough, his large hards carressing Mikal's hands lightly. "Well...dunno what th' Queen o' the East is, but ya coul' be a Queen, right enou'." he murmurs, smiling lightly.

Mikal giggles at Jareth, peeking sideways at him from under her bangs. She laughs softly at Norris's words, resting her chin on his chest as she looks up at him, "And you could easily be the consumate blacksmith, to me, Bear!" She adds cheerfully, "The planet Venus -- the Morning Star!"

Norris takes a closer look at Jareth. "Ya look like ya belong in a stage show." he rumbles, honest and earnest. "Best guess ah kin make, anyways." he drawls, squeezing the hand on his shoulder.

Jareth finds himself petting Norris' hair, just because it's a soothing type of gesture, "We already knew we weren't normal mortals. Raven told me as much."

Mikal shakes her head gravely, "No, Norris, not a stage show. He's not pretending to be what he's dressed as. I'm starting to believe he's genuinely a qadish of some sort, actually... and they're sacred."

Norris does not blink as his hair is petted. "Sure, right enou'! Ya got a point there. Problem is, ahm not just a smith anneh more. Ah got stories all tied up wi th' name, and they aint all nice-like." He leans into Jareth's touch, oddly drawn to the lovely man, looking far more feminine in this garb. "Hope the same aint true wi' yew."

Jareth shrugs, his smile a little wry, "Oh, there are stories about Lilith that are far, far from laudatory." He raises his chin and says, not really sure where the words come from, "But I think mostly they're just jealous." A ringing laugh follows that and he says, "But no one is all good, dear friend. We all have our faults."

It appears to be night here, with the stars in the sky in unfamiliar constellations. Should one peer over the edge of Polaris, far, far below they may espy the Mirror. It is beautiful and placid like an ocean by moonlight, and there is not a single spider-wasp web to be seen.

Norris nods a little. "Well, there's the problem, idnit? Who's tellin th' story. And fact is, we donno if the stories is true, is partly, true, or iffn' th' stories is what make th' man. We still donno how gods is actually made." He seems calm on the surface, but the more he thinks, the more that comes to him. The time that Hephaestus tried to rape Athena. His revenge on and the denial of his Mother, Hera. His cuckoldry by Aphrodite, and the dark actions he took when he discovered his wife's infidelity. "There's flaws, an then there's flaws, Cat. Only comfort ah take is that ah know who ah is. Whoever ah wus, aint who ah is."

Mikal smiles quietly, listening to her friends and studying the big gates. She wonders what's through them, and as she stands with her friends she tilts her head to peer through the closest one, trying to see whatever is beyond it.

Norris Looks at Mikal an Jareth. "Kin someone splain what a quadisha is, tho?"

Mikal grins cheerfully up at Norris, "Sure! Technically the qadishim are the sacred priestesses of Astarte. They have their roots in the worship of Inanna, though, where it was recognized that the holy sexual rites were bringers of civilization."

Jareth's smile changes, eyes twinkling, "Ninshubur is a quadisha. A priestess. One who brought the blessings of Mikal's lady Innana through the holy rites of lovemaking. Like she did for both you and I, Norris. And as for who you were, who you are... even wicked men and women may repent and spend their lives in the pursuit of worthy goals. Strength can be turned to torture or to aiding others."

Mikal adds relaxedly as she continues to peer curiously through the gate, "Right, what Cat said. It's female: qadisha, plural: qadishim. A qadish is a male one." Curiously she adds, "You know, these gates look like they're almost half a mile across. Am I the only one curious as to what's past them?"

Norris huhs, focusing his attention on Jareth, touching him curiously...not intimately, but certainly with an odd affection. "Why's yew look like that, though? Is it sommat t' do with yew servin' Lilith? Makin yerself more female t' unlock th' divine female in yew?"

Mikal chuckles, "That is what they did, yes." She blinks suddenly, giving Jareth an anxious look, "Er... you didn't take the extreme route to be a qadish, did you, lover? No castration or anything?"

Norris uhs? at Mikal's query. "Well... ahd say there's a might many things ah been curious about. But gates that size, sure. Hope yew aint hopin ah kin open em, tho. Mah strength do have limits."

Mikal gives Norris a confused look, then points at the gates, "Norr, look at them. They're all already open."

Jareth leans over and, without thinking, hugs Norris from behind, "Don't fret yourself so. I know you. And you are kind." He chuckles and shrugs, "Norris, I am as much Lilith as you are Hephaestus. So, the clothes reflect that." After a moment, he adds, "They're realy rather comfortable..." And then he laughs, eyes sparkling, "No, little love. I'm quite intact." Standing, he moves to look down into the plaza, "Shall we explore, then? Have a peek to see what we might see through them?"

Norris ohs, and looks abashed. "Sorreh, guess I was...mah head's kinda full. An yeah, we should find out what's what round here. Caint expect answers by stayin in one place. Move forward. Strive, seek, find, an all that."

Mikal looks relieved at Jareth's reply! She beams, giving him a quick hug, then almost skipping in a circle around her two packmates, "All right! Which shall we explore first?" She pauses, adding confusedly, "And... I wonder where Raphael is?" A bit anxiously she adds, "I hope he's all right..."

Norris pats Mikal's shoulder. "E' prolly is. But this mebbe echoing back t' a time when yew an he wuzn't t'gether."

Jareth says, "I suspect that, wherever your brother is, he is taking very good care of himself."

Mikal hmms thoughtfully, murmuring under her breath, "Wood, granite, sandstone, topaz, gold... ooh, the jade and red wood one is pretty! Pity Okori's not here."

Mikal gives Jareth a faintly anxious smile, nodding... then looks back at the gates. She frowns, tilting her head... then murmurs slowly, "Yggdrasil, Olympus... could that be Zion? Hm... maybe Uluru... that one's got to be Fuji..."

Jareth gazes out over the plaza, letting his eyes slide over the gates, wondering if he recognizes any of them.

Jareth murmurs, "One likely leads to Babylon." There's a strange ache in his chest at the mention of that name, a mixture of wistful nostalgia and betrayal.

Norris follows MIkal's gaze. "Why yew think they go t' all the mountains around the Mirror? Is is cuz the mountains is all sacred redoubts? Or is the face there there's gates there is the reason they made them the homes of th' gods and they's followers an allies?"

The massive rostrum in the center of the plaza is a wide, open-aired dome, though it is not possible to look into it from here. There appear to be a number of archways that lead into it. The pillar of light rising from it's center serves as a kind of beacon. Also, voices can be heard from there, rising a little.

Jareth blinks and says, "I think... perhaps we should go see what is causing those voices to get louder. One does not normally raise one's voice if one is not upset."

Mikal looks more carefully, "All right, let's see. If Yggdrasil is-" she cuts off, glancing back at Jareth, then smiles, "My guess is that the wooden one leads to Yggdrasil. Um... white granite for Olympus, sandstone for Uluru, jade and red wood for Fujisama, and that leaves... the topaz and the gold one. Er... if it's actually topaz? Maybe that one's Uluru, and the sandstone is Zion?" She nods to Jareth and starts cheerfully skipping towards the rostrum, adding over her shoulder, "Which would make gold Meru's gateway!"

Norris follows his friends, just listening...though at Jareth's comment about angry people, he overtakes the two of them, feelnig the need to lead the way. Or rather, be between his friends and angry people.

Jareth has a moment's curiousity, wondering how they look to other people. Do his lover and his friend look as they do to him because he knows them? Would they look differently to another person?

Entering the rostrum, the group are immediately taken by the great table set in the center of it. Upon the table is what looks like some kind of map, but of where or what is not entirely clear; the impression one gets when looking upon it is that it is a map of everything.

Surrounding the table are dozens of beings the likes of which they have never seen before and yet who seem to be as familiar as old friends... or old enemies. They are not mortals nor aethyrs; in a moment of realization, the group realizes that the beings they see -- and they themselves -- are gods.

There is an argument going on. A vast, heated argument. There is shouting, and going back-and-forth, and quite cross words. The gist of the argument seems to be how best to deal with El-Amon-Re, the Father-God of Mount Zion.

"We must destroy him before he becomes more powerful!" one shouts; he is in a tunic and toga not unlike that Norris wears, but he bears a massive red sword that seems too large even for two hands; yet he carries it upon his shoulder easily. The sword seems familiar to Norris, somehow. "Already the aspects of him which were named as other gods are subsumed into that of the Desert King."

Mikal murmurs softly, "Ares. Always the hothead." She looks around for the female deities, wondering if the males have already shouldered them aside.

"Would you have us destroy the mortals who are bringing about this change?" another asks; she is inutterably beautiful, wearing clothing reminiscent of the raksasha, but she is not a raksasha; jewelry and silk adorn her dusky-hued frame, and a red bindi is upon her forhead. "It is not their fault; they know not what they do. Rather than destroy El-Amon-Re, is there not something more we can do?"

Mikal is also watching for reactions to their entrance.

It takes Norris a moment to recognize the one with the sword, and then Mikal beats him to the punch. He wonders if he should hate the man. He decides not to. Whatever beef Hephaestus had with Ares, it is not his to shoulder. But then, if the man should choose to be boorish...well, he'd deal with that when the time comes.

Mikal smiles slowly, watching that woman, and a small part of her wants to bow politely and ask if her performance while standing in for Radha was acceptable.

The other deities seem not to have yet noticed the group. And that's the sudden interesting realization: The three are suddenly recognize what it is they are seeing about themselves: they look at the deities, and they know they are gods. They look at each other, and they know they are, too.

Mikal gets a suddenly perplexed look at that realization. She struggles with how to verbalize it -- then finally leans over to whisper to Jareth, "Mon chat beau, how can I be a goddess... when I feel so timid sometimes?"

Jareth feels a stab of sadness at the talk of destroying the Architect and he steps forward, holding his breath. What might have come about differently if these here gathered had been able to do just that. His mouth was opening to say something when Mikal spoke and he smiles gently down at her, "Because you are proud, my love, not arrogant."

Mikal frowns thoughtfully, considering that statement as she continues to look around the room, carefully noting who growling assent when Ares speaks -- and who nods when Radha does.

Norris looks at Mikal. "Also might not be an accurate remembering. We's ourselves in our minds, but coming upon a palce in history where we was different, then."

Mikal nods slowly to Norris, still reflexively noting potential allies -- and enemies.

Most of the gods seem to be, not strongly divided, but still considering carefully what to do; none appear to be as hotheaded as Ares, which is somewhat surprising.

Norris steps forward, in front of his friends, testing the responses of the other gods...will they act as they did? Will he respond as he did in the past? He does not make his presence any more known than the others, though.

Mikal looks faintly relieved at that. Her next visual sweep is for angels. Or any other known members of the Zionist pantheon. No angels are present. In fact, no sceptres are present. And there is none whom Mikal might recognize immediately as allied to the Architect. She frowns thoughtfully at that, stepping up beside her packmates. She studies the table with open fascination, gathering up all the information she can... although a small part of her murmurs, "Gathering like this, metaphorically behind his back, is not going to reassure El-Amon-Re, and will make it harder to negotiate cooperatively with him."

Mikal looks up in sudden shock, her wide-eyed gaze flashing to regard the sky around the open rostrum, "Are we all here?! Do we apparently ask him to attack us, all gathered into one spot?"

Jareth shakes his head and says, "Going to him openly would not reassure him, either. Something has clouded his eyes."

Mikal murmurs quietly to Jareth, "True -- but there is a difference between fruitlessly attempting to persuade, and apparently conspiring behind his back -- especially to a paranoid."

One of the gods -- a sharp-eyed one, with dark brown skin, and wearing denim overalls and a oil-stained white shirt -- spots Norris, and beams a dazzling smile. "Ah! Hephaestus, you've come!" He walks around the table, reaching to clasp Norris's hands like a brother. "We were wondering where you were." He looks over to Mikal and Jareth, and his smile falters a little. "And of course, Inanna, Queen of Heaven... but it is surprising that the Lady Lilith is here."

There is only a little muted consternation at that. The gods seem more curious at Jareth than outright hostile; even Ares merely arches an intrigued brow.

In answer to Mikal's words, one speaks from the other side of the table. He is a younger man, wearing a white robe under Mesopotamian armor, and wearing a sword hung from his sash. "The Architect has already squirreled himself away in Mount Zion, Queen Inanna," he says. "While he may prepare to war upon us, the battle would not -- cannot -- be waged here. We are safe here, to meet and plan. But at the same time we are not able to enact any plans against him while we remain here."

The skies, as the man says, remain perfectly clear, with no hint of any six-winged buzzards.

Mikal puts an arm around Jareth, not really sure why Lilith would not be welcome when someone in dirty clothes is.

Jareth examines the young man in the armor and then says, "What news do we have of the last attempt to persuade him? Who here has spoken to him most recently?"

Mikal whispers to Jareth, "Marduk, I think? And I think they believe you of Zion now."

Norris peers at the one with the oil-stained shirt and the denim coveralls, looking oddly modern. Who is this one supposed to be? He tries to intuitively divine it as he merely nods to the others gathered. "You know I am a man of few words. I encouraged those to come with me who would have more to say." he murmurs. It then clicks to him: the one who offers his hand is Ogun, one of the Loa, and of a bent same as his own, of smithy and fire, but also of politics and war. He takes the hand firmly.

Ogun's handclasp with Norris is firm, and he gives a smile and a nod, before turning back to the assembly.

Mikal frowns, not pleased at how this is going. She stares at the map intently for several minutes to gather that information, even as she ponders where all the goddesses are. She feels funny, like she's lying -- she's Ninshubur, not Inanna! ...isn't she?

The man runs a hand through his tight-curled hair, sighing. "It was... unsuccessful. He barely acknowledged I was there but for a venomous gaze he reserves for his family or former lovers. I am sure you and Lucifer both know that gaze, and having experienced it, I sympathize. Then Metatron firmly ushered me out, with the aid of Father's lapdogs Michael, Uriel, Raphael, and Gabriel."

Mikal's head jerks up reflexively at the name "Raphael" -- then she realizes it cannot be "her" Raphael. She sighs and goes back to reviewing the map. She wants that information for later.

Jareth shakes his head and says to Mikal, "Those that are of Zion have very little love for me. To them, I am evil and temptation. They are forcing the love and gentleness out of him and trying to mold the mortals to the god rather than the god giving the mortals what they need in their own place." Jareth isn't entirely sure where those thoughts came from.

He also isn't sure who "they" are.

Mikal shakes her head slowly. She knows the Desert King is supposed to have eliminated all the deities on Polaris. How did he bypass that stricture? She murmurs softly in reply, "I'm glad they didn't manage to force the love and gentleness out of you, mon chat."

Another speaks, then, this one also golden-haired but of fierce eye, wearing warm robes and carrying a heavy-bladed sword at her belt, nods. "He did ill to cast you out so long ago, Lilith. He broke his hearth -- and his heart -- in doing so."

There is another man who comes forward, this one much more recognizable to Mikal, armored and with a finely-braided beard and khol-lined eyes. Enki clasps his hands in formal salute to her, then says warmly, "I am glad you came, sister. These are ill times. We are not certain what plans or even thoughts are fomenting in El-Amon-Re's mind."

In some part of his mind, Jareth is glad his wondering about how they appear ahs been answered. These people see them as Lilith, Innana and Hephaestus. Not three mortals.

Mikal beams, her eyes lighting up, "Uncle!" She returns the formal salute, then cheerfully throws herself into a hug with him! It's as she's still hugging that she blinks -- what is she doing?!

Norris is taken aback as well...but then he shrugs it off. *He's* not going to argue with Mikal being less skittish around strangers!

Enki laughs softly, embracing Inanna -- no, Mikal, warmly. "Ah, I was wondering if you would greet me as you once did! Mischievous lass! If you could steal the maes from me, then I should have been certain that you could evade any six-winged insect that El would think of sending!"

Mikal straightens up a bit nervously, hastily adding, "Have you no clever plans for us, uncle?" She grins teasingly, "You were always our tricksy one, after all!" She has to concentrate for a moment to not give a squeak of dismay at how physically close this man is to her. Part of her says he's her beloved uncle who helped save her from the Underworld -- but another part says he's a creepy looking stranger!

Mikal giggles in spite of herself at his reply -- she remembers now why he's her favorite uncle.

Enki shakes his head sadly. "No, no clever plans this time. There is one here, though, who claims that it is actually you three who have the cunning plan, this time."

Mikal looks around interestedly, leaning against her uncle still, "Indeed? Who would that be?" She glances back at Enki, a mischievous grin on her face, "'Steal'?! Why, uncle -- you gave the holy me to me -- as you well know!"

Jareth steps toward the map, letting his eyes slide over it and then up again to loo karound at the gathered gods, wondering the same thing.

Norris looks at Ares, and Ogun. "I am not a man of war. I think those here know this." I would support it, if it were the only way...but I am not entirely convinced of it. Nor am I sure we would win such a war. But war is not the wellspring of my wisdom. What do those of you say that know it, and eat and breathe it? Is it truly a solution?"

Ares, Ogun, and a somewhat ragged, one-eyed man carrying a spear all exchange looks, then turn as one to what can only be described as a radiant, blue-skinned man in gold armor, who carries the curved shortbow of Mount Meru. He considers, then shakes his head. "No," he says at last. "It would not accomplish what we need. To war on even one god would tear apart Heaven, to say nothing of the mortals whom it would affect. No, marching against Mount Zion is not the answer."

"So, what then?" The one who asks the question quietly is a vaguely bird-like man who also wears a toga, bearing several scrolls; winged sandals are upon his feet. "We surrender to the inevitable? Does it not come down to 'fight' or 'die?'"

Mikal shakes her head, "No. Do not create false binaries, please." Her voice is gentle; she's worried, not remonstrating.

Hermes-Thoth bows his head to Mikal. "You are correct, Inanna. I apologize; worry is the enemy of every scholar."

Mikal smiles at him, then gently nudges Enki, whispering, "Who, uncle?"

Jareth smiles as he recognizes the man of the lovely blue skin, making him a courtesy, "Just so, Krishna."

Mikal studies Krishna's bow with avid interest, wondering if that's the one she now carries.

Norris shakes his head. "If we cannot speak to Him, and be heard, can we instead speak to those he does listen to? Or do they toe the line, and offer no dissent?"

Mikal glances inquiringly at Jareth, wondering if he knows, as she murmurs, "My guess is the latter, Hephaestus."

Mikal wonders idly why Norris is emphasizing 'Him' in that way... it's not like the Desert King is any more or less glorious than any other deity here.

Lord Krishna inclines his head to Jareth, smiling humbly.

Enki is about to speak, when a voice says, "The Queen of Heaven of mighty Uruk is right. There are always more choices than those two." The one who speaks has been separate from the others; his clothing is thematically similar to that of the fierce-eyed woman, but in rich, firey red hues. He is lounging against the table, with his back to the assembly. Now he turns to them. "There are always alternatives to fighting and dying." At closer glance, he appears quite androgynous... and yet also somewhat wolflike.

The recognition is almost a blow to Mikal. This is Raphael.

The one-eyed man with the spear sighs a little. "Oh ye of riddles, blood-brother," he says. "Speak plainly, Lokei."

Ogun says to Norris, "If you mean his angels and saints... yes, we have tried. Some have broken away from him, and have vowed to be neutral; El-Amon-Re has not deigned to speak of them again, dismissing them with barely a word. Only Lucifer and his Mazikin have sworn to outright fight his once-lover.

Mikal stares in astonishment, "Raph?!"

Jareth murmurs quietly, "Armaros..."

Norris shakes his head. "Then perhaps there is someone the Architect will listen to. Perhaps there is a war to be raged, but not one of blades and blood. Perhaps this conflict can be won with ideas, through the minds of mortals. Is it not this that El-Amon-Re cares about most?" He struggles to think of the Architect as something other than the god of the mortal Norris that he became, to not give the Architect the power that offers him.

Mikal is still staring at Loki, and she takes Jareth's arm, pointing, "No, it's Raphael, not Armaros -- look, Cat!"

Mikal has no idea what consternation her assertion might cause -- she's simply shocked and surprised.

Jareth blinks at MIkal, not even sure what she's talking about at first. His thought was of those that broke from the Architect. He follows her pointing finger and murmurs back, "That name is not welcome here, ma coeur. Perhaps you should use the name Odinn used."

Jareth blinks again, wondering how he knew that name. He shakes his head at Norris, "I still... I wonder if it is even El-Amon-Re who is waging this war. There was once compassion and love in him. The stories that speak of it are old, but they are not forgotten."

Mikal says, "What?" She looks around, then realizes she might be causing trouble for this person, who certainly doesn't deserve it, "Oh! Your pardon -- Lokei, of course." She starts to speak again, then pauses, frowning perplexedly. Why did she and Raphael end up with the names they have? Michael and Raphael... almost a salute to the Desert King, in a way? Her voice is soft, trailing off as she thinks very hard, "I -- I wonder..."

Mikal's mind is racing, analyzing possible tactics: to name herself and her half-brother so would certainly keep the Desert King's minions from focusing on them. Who would suspect someone named after the imposter, after all? But that leads naturally to the obvious question: why would they be hiding? And why would Lokei be aiding her so?

Norris sighs. "The only ones that could tell us this do not know, or are not talking. Unless those that are sneakier among us can ferret it out..." he asides to Lilith. Jareth. He still looks like Jareth to the smith. Maybe he is a divine avatar?

Lokei doesn't seem to notice Mikal blurting out 'Raph.' At Norris's words, he points to the young man in armor and robe. "The Architect wouldn't listen to his one-time-son, Lord Hadad. He would not listen to the bhodisattvas his other son brought forward. I'm fairly certain he won't listen to anyone else." He smiles --wolfishly, as it happens. "However, said other son has given me some idea of what might be done here."

The blue-eyed and sultry woman who spoke earlier, Aphrodite, says to Jareth, "Lady Lilith, you speak what many of us have considered. That El-Amon-Re is not in complete control of his actions. He was stern but compassionate, as the Lady Astarte could attest to were she here."

"I shall attest to that," Baal Hadad, Lord Hadad, says. "Father was once not unkind. Now, though... it is as if he cared not to recognize me."

Mikal wonders who the 'other son' is.

A few of the gods at the table seem surprised, however, at the outburst of Mikal, mostly scribe and knowledge-deities. Thrice-great Hermes-Thoth and Artemis both in particular both arch a brow at that, seeming to take mental notes.

Lokei leans on the table, looking a touch conspirational -- to Jareth, it's clear that the trickster is something of a showperson. "But first," Lokei says, leaning on the table with a glitter in hir eye, "I will ask of all here a geis, to not speak of this to any other beyond Polaris, least of all he whom we conspire against, El-Amon-Re"

"And you know of conspiring, do you not, my two-spirit brother?" This from a red-haired man with full beard, a huge hammer in his hands. "But very well. Though mischievous and oftimes wicked you may be, I will so swear." The others -- some reluctantly -- follow suit.

Mikal murmurs thoughtfully, "Who administers this geas, please?"

Lokei looks expectantly and hopefully to Mikal, Norris, and Jareth. "Each to ourselves. I know you lot wouldn't trust me with such... responsibility. Or power. So each to yourselves. But before all here as witnesses, the assembled gods of the Armistice Deos."

Mikal thinks a bit, then carefully lays the geas: Inanna will not speak of Lokei's plan to anyone who is beyond Polaris now.

Norris is remembered of the ritual he did for Mikal, as his hand goes to an iron knife at his belt...he cuts a small gash into his hand, and squeezes till the blood trickles forth. "By metal and fire, I swear not to divulge these conversations to any beyond this place." he murmurs, loud enough for all to hear. And then he cuts a strip from his shirt and bandages his hand.

Jareth is torn on this question, but knows from what he has seen, years hence, that is is perhaps best. He lays the geas for Lilith herself.

Mikal is quietly relieved no one has called her on her careful phrasing. She wants a bit of wiggle room though -- especially when dealing with another Trickster. She loves her uncle, but she's also very careful when it comes to promises around him. She'll be even moreso for another, stranger Trickster.

Lokei looks to another who has been separate for the arguing. This one has long hair, and broad shoulders, and a curled beard. His clothing is a simple white burial robe, though hung from the red sash at his waist is a shortsword. The man notices Lokei looking at him, and frowns.

"You are the Dying God! You are Tammuz, Osiris, Adonais, Joshua! You have died as a mortal before!"

"Symbolically. Never as a mortal. Except for that last time and there's a reason I asked Father why he had forsaken me."

"My point is, you have died as a mortal. That's very important."

"You seem fixated on my dying. I dislike this plan already."

Mikal's eyes widen, and she murmurs softly, "Iesu Kristos?!"

Mikal sighs softly -- crap! She'd wondered if the White Christ would soften the Desert King... but it looks like the answer is no.

The man in the burial shroud looks to Mikal, and spreads his hands in a slight bow in greeting. "Lady Inanna. Please, just 'Joshua.' I do not feel terribly 'Anointed.'"

Mikal grins wryly, nodding in courteous greeting, "My apologies."

Norris does not follow what is going on, at first, and when he finally discerns it, his eyes widen, but he controls his reaction. "Say on, Lokei. What does Joshua's death have to do with your plan?"

Mikal tilts her head thoughtfully -- she'd thought it was Yeshua, actually. Wasn't Joshua a mortal worshipper of the Desert King? Hm... did he feel the Desert King had abandoned him at some point? She tries to remember the stories, despite them not really being one of her areas of knowledge. She hopes so, actually... that would mean they could still try with the White Christ to soften the Desert King's harsh, unpleasant rigidity.

Jareth smiles gently at Joshua, "We all have doubts."

Lokei continues, "Which is why this is important. Here is my proposal, O ye gods of Polaris.

"Of us all, Joshua is the only one -- thus far, the only one permitted -- to have experienced death."

"It's not pleasant," Joshua says, "in fact it's rather scarring."

"That being said, after speaking with him at length, I have learned something: It is only on the far shores of Hades that any of us may learn the true heritage of a soul's reincarnations. And even then, we may only learn such information if the Thrones of Death deign to give us that information.

"When Joshua died as a mortal, his father -- El-Amon-Re -- could not follow. Literally, the Architect lost track of his own son. For a deity who has become as virtually omniscient as any of us can hope for, Joshua had to be led out of Hades by another, before his Father saw him again.

"This tells me something, and some of the craftier amongst you may be seeing it already. The Architect and his Faiths of the Book have taken mortal thought so thoroughly, only the gods of Mounts Meru and Mount Fuji can oppose them... and even then their resistance weakens by the year. We cannot hope to defeat the Desert King of Mount Zion in an all-out war. But neither should we lie down and surrender and subsume ourselves into the Nether. No! Some of us can hide. We can hide within the Wheel of Kharma."

It is Radha who speaks first, "But the Wheel of Kharma is for mortals alone. Only they may experience the cycle of reincarnation."

Lokei nods. "This is true. Some of us must become mortal, then."

"Is that even possible?"

In answer, Lokei simply points to Joshua, who looks like he'd very much like to sink through the floor at that attention.

Mikal smiles in rueful sympathy at the poor deity.

Jareth smiles fondly at the young man in the burial shroud, reaching to take Mikal's hand.

Mikal smiles up at Jareth, then murmurs quietly to Lokei, "If we do this, we should not develop the plan completely here. There will be those who may even break a geas if pushed far enough."

Lokei nods, beaming. "Indeed, Lady Inanna, indeed. Where do you suggest?"

Mikal thinks a bit, then simply says, "Let the mortal immortals do it."

Norris's brow knits, and he scowls. "I do not understand. How does this help us. If there is useful knowledge that comes from dying and be reborn, surely Joshua would already have it. And what you suggest is akin to hiding among the sheep, but provides no benefit save from being invisible to the Architect. What would we do once we are mortal?"

Mikal murmurs in a quiet aside to Norris, "Defeat the Architect, of course. He likely will not defend against what he cannot see, after all."

Jareth's hand tightens on Mikal's. He speaks up, "Even in death, El-Amon-Re's servants will look for mortals. His angel of Death prowls there, between the mortals and the Eternal Shores, seeking to snatch away choice."

Lokei beams to Norris. "It is not what we learn from Hades, but rather that we disappear into the Wheel. Whatever might come, he will not find us, and then we lie in wait. There will come a time when we can come forth, then, and then get to the bottom of what is going on with the Architect, and resolve it, solve it, fix the problem! It will not be with waging war, we know that now. It will be something subtler. But to pursue that subtle goal, we must ourselves become subtle...."

Mikal adds to Lokei, "Who did you have in mind?" She frowns, thinking, then adds slowly, "Whomever it is, they should not swiftly escape the Wheel of Karma... since I suspect it may take them a whiles to discover their destinies. There should be several, too... so even if one or two are discovered and slain, others may continue to try."

Lokei nods to Mikal. "You are as always wise, Lady Inanna. Yes, there must be several. I cannot, in whatever conscience I have, present such an audacious plan and not participate. So I will volunteer to walk upon the Wheel." Then sie nods to Jareth. "Yes. Azriel is the Architect's death-dog." He grins wolfishly again. "But I think there are more who will help us first." He calls out, "Thrones of Death, attend to Polaris!"

From seemingly nowhere, the Thrones of Death step forward. Tall, black-skinned and jackal-headed Anubis; half-beautiful Hela, one side of her body simply blank white; dark-robbed Pluto, red face hidden by the folds of his hood; night-skinned and warm and welcoming Hine-nui-te-po; ancient mud-formed Mot; dark and cold yet yearning Ereshkigal; simple and gentle Izanami; elegantly-dressed Papa Ghede; also black-skinned and wild-eyed Kali; even lithe, little Raven, taking her place amongst her tutors. And there are others, remaining shadowy and somewhat indistinct.

Norris's expression is dry, looking at Mikal. "Yes, but defeat him how, Inanna. Lokei offers a quarter of a solution...being beyond his sight is helpful. But not unless we have options to pursue. It feels cowardly, to merely escape the Architect's wrath...but, perhaps there is no easy answer. And perhaps we will not have time to find a way now, and must see to it that there are those who will continue this struggle at all." He looks rueful. "When all you have is a hammer, every problem looks like a nail." he quotha, to no one in particular.

Mikal's eyes reflect a mix of pain and pity, and she bows her head courteously to Ereshkigal. "Greetings, my sister. How fares the Bull in your realms?" She blinks as it suddenly registers: her husband Dumuzi / Tammuz, also known as the Bull... is also Joshua! Her startled gaze goes to Joshua, searching a bit wistfully for signs of her big, gentle, slow husband. Curiously, she realizes there's more of what she remembers of Dumuzi in Norris -- Joshua now simply reminds her most strongly of the White Christ.

Mikal's gaze is dragged slowly to Norris, and she blinks, "Your pardon?" A moment later his words register, "Oh. No, that was what I was referring to previously, Hephaestus -- to allow those who're actually incarnating as mortals to conceive the plan, so it cannot be accidentally dropped where the Zionists can find it." She looks back at Lokei, adding, "You're a Trickster, but not a strategist. You need a warrior in your group."

Mikal's eyes narrow thoughtfully, "And one of the Desert King's former family -- you'll need their insight into his thinking."

Mikal glances around the gathered deities, and frowns, "And they should not all be men!"

Ogun and a few other smith-gods recognize the adage Norris speaks, and there is some shared, likewise rueful, humor in that. Lokei also laughs, but he says in answer to Norris, "It does seem cowardly, yes. I am the first to recognize and acknowledge it. But isn't it better to lie in wait and ambush the foe? I know some of my warful kin would disagree, particularly by half-brother Thor-Donner." The big, red-beared man with the hammer nods, puffing up his chest. "But striking 'honorably' in open war as the Pandava did against the Kauravas, will not win for the mortals any destiny they deserve, other than the monolithic domination of the Architect."

Lokei looks consideringly at Mikal/Innana. "Mmm. So we would. As well as one skilled at putting thing back together, repairing what is broken, forging things anew...." He looks hopefully at Hephaestus-- er, Norris.

Radha beams at Mikal's words. "Indeed not. Though I think Lokei has already taken your words as being that of the warrior who volunteers, Queen Inanna."

Norris ahs! "You are wise, Inanna. Of course, it should be so." he agrees. And then he gets this look on his face, like a marvelous idea has occurred to him. "It should be you, Queen! You should be the warrior. Surely none her doubt your skill and your tactical mind." He utterly misses the look Lokei gives him, though. Even speaking in full sentences and not with folksy tongue, he still seems slow of thought.

Mikal gives Radha a raised eyebrow -- then turns to Lokei and gives him an even frostier raised eyebrow! "You presume for me, Trickster?!"

Mikal gives Norris an exasperatedly amused look -- then glares back at Lokei. She may be physically tiny, but her power far transcends her chosen corporeal form.

Norris tsks. "Oh, leave it be, Inanna. It is his way, to goad your ire. It is still a good idea. And it was yours, that a warrior should lead the way. I can think of no better than you."

Mikal neither answers that, nor looks away from Lokei.

Hephaestus/Norris was not intending to snub Ares. But the way he says it, one cannot help but notice his approval of one outside of his own pantheon, that shares his bent.

Mikal has no intention of being treated like a disposeable pawn. She folds her arms and continues to coldly study Lokei, waiting for a reply that satisfies her.

Lokei blinks, then gets what is undoubtedly a look Thor-Donner knows all too well -- the wan, shaky grin that at the same time tries to project good humor while also asking, 'Please don't kill me.' "I would never presume for you, Queen Inanna! I assure you!" He becomes fully serious again, and there is the hint of his ferociously cunning mind. "But my thinking is thus: Yours is one of the most ancient of faiths. The Architect and the Metatron, and his archangels, will be strategizing against those gods of Mount Meru and Mount Fuji; he would not think to look after any who came from the peoples of ancient Mesopotamia. It is for that reason, likewise, that Wotan-Odinn and Ares would not be suitable. You, as the warrior, would be perfect."

"I would swear, Lokei," Wotan-Odinn says carefully, "that is the first time I have ever heard you speak completely guilessly."

Lokei sighs. "Believe it or not, brother, I do care about the mortals. It is why I gave them fire. They deserve better than the Architect's monolithy."

Mikal snaps icily, "He is not without guile even now. Can you not see it, Wotan? He is your brother, after all."

Wotan studied Lokei carefully. "He always is with guile, Lady Inanna," he says carefully. "But this time his guile is directed at El-Amon-Re. There are reasons I still call him 'blood brother' and have not cast him forth. This is one of them: guile is a useful weapon against one's foe, and in this case I believe he is directed at the one who threatens us all."

Lokei takes a deep breath, then walks quietly around the table towards Mikal.

Mikal steps slowly over to Lokei, radiating anger. She stops and looks up at the lanky deity, her eyes glowing as icy as the stars themselves, and says quietly, "Riddle me this, Trickster: why should I trust you?"

Without looking away from Lokei, the Queen of Heaven raises her voice enough that Wotan can hear her musical tones easily, "Just as there is more than fight or flight in regards to the Desert King, so too do I believe there can be guile within guile. How do you know your blood-brother has not volunteered so easily because he intends to simply hide until others resolve this issue?"

The two meet halfway around the table. Up close, it is impossible to not see Lokei as embodying male and female at once, and his wolflike features are even more pronounced; in fact, it would be hard to not imagine him with drooped ears and tail at the moment. "I do not recommend you trust me, Queen Inanna, for I have given you no reason to do so." He raises his voice so that all present can hear. "One of the greatest mysteries," he says, "that we have amongst ourselves is why Wotan-Odinn took me as his blood-brother!"

Wotan goes still. "Lokei, what are you--"

"If this is what it takes the earn the trust of the others, then I must, brother.

"Long, long ago, not at all long after mortals Fell to the Waking... here were giants in the earth in those days. Titans, jotunn, nephilim, qingim... their names are as legion as we gods ourselves are." He pauses. "I was one of them. But not merely a jotunn who survived the wars between gods and titan. In those days Odinn and I fought, yes. But in those days... in those days my form was female. And Odinn and I became lovers."

At this point Wotan-Odinn looks unhappy, but not ashamed, at least. Lokei continues. "As time passed, the worship of mortals urged me towards masculinity, and raised in me a mischievous bent. To honor our past, and yet also to hold me against harming he and his, at the urging of his wife Frigg he claimed me as his blood brother.

"It was Frigg herself who said, what was done in the ancient past should not be spoken of in front of others, and that ancient matters should always remain hidden. But this I must tell you now, to cast aside thoughts of guile between us, that I might earn your trust." He clasps his hands together, going to one knee before Mikal. "As Wotan once so long ago bound us together against my good behavior as blood-brother, so to do I offer myself to you, O Queen of heaven, as your blood-brother, to give you power o'er me whilst we walk the Wheel."

He adds after a moment, still holding the pose, and quietly, "As brother, not as lover, I swear to you, Queen Inanna. To presume to offer myself as lover to you would be insulting, and I do not wish to insult you now or ever. I have seen your righteous fury, and I would not wish to receive it."

Mikal was actually starting to bristle, her hair flaring out like thunderclouds from beneath her stepped-horn helmet and her fiery eyes literally throwing sparks, until Lokei's last addendum -- and that causes her to quietly sigh, her fists unclenching and her arms relaxing to her sides. She's silent for a long moment, studying the Trickster, before she lifts her head and turns to call easily to Wotan, "He is your blood-brother, Gallows God. Was it worth it?"

Norris personally seems quite flabbergasted, at first. But that, perhaps, is more the mortal Norris than Hephaestus. After all, the Greek pantheon has done no less odd things in its history.

Most of the gods look like their jaws would be hitting the table. For his part, Wotan-Odinn looks to Lokei, and a faint smile crosses his bleak countenance. "Yes," he says at last. "It was, Lady Inanna. I would not have traded it for anything."

Mikal nods courteously, "Thank you." She turns back to Lokei, reaching out to lay one small hand over his clasped ones, "I accept your offer, if you will allow me to state the conditions I wish for. Is that acceptable?" Her storm-gray eyes narrow in thought even as she speaks -- she's going to be asking several people to trust this deity as well, after all. She needs to be able to say beyond the shadow of a doubt that he is trustworthy.

Lokei nods, looking steadily and seriously up at Mikal. "Yes. That is acceptable. State your conditions, O Queen."

Norris is of many minds in regards to Inanna's intensity. In the end, though, he decides he is glad of it. She has indeed the fine tactical mind he credited her with.

Mikal speaks slowly and carefully, making sure her words do not accidentally change meaning when translated to another language, "I would have you bind yourself to me, Lokei, so we are always reborn near to each other and can find each other easily. I would have you choose to always be reborn as either my peer or my subordinate, but never as my superior, so your loyalty lies of your own accord with me -- and so I may state without reservation you are indeed trustworthy. I would have you further embody the true spirit of this agreement rather than the simple words, since we may well be moving through myriad lives and cultures together.

"In return I swear to you this: I shall always of my own accord treat you as family, and extend my hand in protection over you while you are at my side." She thinks a moment longer, then nods slowly, "So I wish it. Would you add anything to this agreement, Lokei Wotansbrodir?""

Lokei says seriously, "I do not know if I can choose to reincarnate in such a manner..." He looks inquiringly at the nearest of the Thrones of Death, which is Ereshkigal.

"It is possible," she says in a sepulchural and somehow... empty voice. "We will ensure it if need be."

Obviously not displeased by this, Lokei nods and looks to Mikal. "I will agree to your terms, and I have nothing else to add. So long as we both pursue the goal of breaking the stranglehold and madness of the Architect, I will be content."

Mikal nods more briskly this time, "Excellent -- I will gladly agree so." She draws her shortsword with her right hand, taking one of Lokei's hands in her left, and closes his hand and hers about the sharp-edged bronze sword, giving a short, quick yank. Her face retains her quiet, faint smile as the blade bites, her cool gray eyes on Lokei's face.

Lokei winces a little bit at the cut, but otherwise makes no movement away, holding Mikal's gaze. As their blood mingles, the rest of Polaris seems to stand very far away, and Lokei smiles quietly. "I've never had any regrets doing this, Little Sister," he says, his voice no longer quite matching the cadence and speech of Lokei.

Mikal smiles at the lanky, wolfish man kneeling in front of her, her left hand tightly clasping his right to help the blood both to mingle, and to heal swiftly, "Nor I, big brother. I wish I could remember all our shared lives, though -- I would thank you properly for your assistance in all of them." Her smile gets wry as she adds, "I... I fear I did not make it easy for you in some of them."

Lokei -- Raphael -- smiles warmly. "Same here. I'm only just starting to remember bits and pieces of it. It's worth fighting for, though, believe me. We both enjoyed the bazaar in Tehran so much...."

Mikal blinks in sudden interest, "Tehran?! Oh, I don't remember that one yet! Can you remind me?" She laughs suddenly, adding, "Do you remember Mongolia? Oh, or Iceland?! Surely you remember there, considering it was one of your original homes?"

He laughs, standing now. "Only vaguely, I'm afraid! I remember it was damn cold!" He -- Lokei/Raphael -- smiles to Mikal. "I don't remember much, and... to be honest, right now I'm still more 'Raphael' than 'Lokei.' But I'm very comfortable with that, actually. Remembering too much... it seems to give me a bit of a headache."

Jareth smiles wryly, "It's always difficult, remembering the things that you did before you were you."

Mikal looks a bit worried, sheathing her sword after wiping it clean, then stepping forward and raising a hand to gently brush the messy hair back from Lokei-Raphael's face, "A headache? That... surely that's not good?"

Raphael grins lopsidedly. "It's not like it's a migrane. I think it's just my psyche telling me to not think too much, that it'll all come to me in time. Just like it has for all of you.

Mikal hms thoughtfully, stepping back and regarding the Trickster carefully. Her eyes are still a bit worried, but she doesn't push it, instead simply saying, "So... do we remember making any plans at all regarding our goals? Or was this something we were going to do once we got together again?"

Raphael sits against the table; somewhere along the line, the other gods are... not frozen in tableau, but simply outside the conversation the once and future mortals are having.. "I'm... honestly not sure," he says, rubbing his chin. "We knew we couldn't face him directly, and we also knew that as mortals we wouldn't be arousing as much suspicion if we were looking for a way to overcome the Architect, as we would if we were still gods."

Jareth lets his (her?) eyes slide around the table, looking at each of the faces, each of them well-known and unfamiliar. Joshua, especially, he watches. And as Mikal speaks with her brother, Jareth makes his way around the table and takes the sad young man's hand in both of his, making sure to meet the dark, sad eyes, "One day, I want to have time to speak, you and I, about the Shores and what visiting them teaches you."

Mikal glances at the table of deities, then smiles and tilts her head, "My pack brothers, shall we move away from here to someplace secluded, and talk more on this?"

Joshua, looking exhausted nevertheless seems to regain a little strength as he takes Jareth's/Lilith's hands in his. "I would be pleased to, Lady Lilith," he says gently. "Father did too great a disservice to you in casting you out first from Gan Eden and then Mount Zion."

Mikal watches Jareth silently, wondering about pantheonic lineages. She remembers the sacred Anzu bird, dear to Inanna, and in some of the stories she also remembers the great honor shown to Lilith as Inanna's handmaid. She knows (from some past life, she supposes) Lilith had a bird of some sort associated with her when the Desert King got snippy about any feminine principles at all in his pantheon. Could that bird perhaps be a bastardized form of the sacred Anzu bird? And if so... can Lilith summon it at some point? That might be a very useful ally.

And what happened to Asherah and/or Sophia? Were they related to Inanna too originally? Could they help soften the Architect's rigidity? Mikal-Inanna frowns as she considers... what will the little group do? She can't off the top of her head see any chink in the cruel old deity's armor.

Raphael considers, then nods, "Yes, let's. There's... really only half-memories here."

Mikal paces slowly away from the table, raising a hand to rest it lightly on Lokei-Raphael's back, "Lead the way, big brother."

Jareth smiles up at Joshua, feeling a pang of sadness, knowing that is must pain the gentle young man-god to have been forsaken by his father. Impulsively, he kisses Joshua on the cheek, whispering quietly, "Never doubt your father loves you... even if he does not realize it himself every minute of every day." And then he reluctantly lets go of Joshua's hands, wishing there were more time, before moving to join Mikal and Raphael.

The group moves away from the table, and the gods, and even the room itself, begin to fade into the background Thus, shortly they find themselves under the starry sky and a leafy Eucalyptus tree, not far from the gate to Uluru.

Mikal looks around puzzledly, "Now this place does not look familiar to me at all. Why here, Raph? Er, pardon me -- Lokei?"

He grins. "Raph' does fine, little sister." He settles himself underneath the tree. I just thought it might be nice to lounge here. I remember -- vaguely -- meeting a shaman from Uluru here now and then. And it's a good place to sit and think."

Mikal nods and settles cross-legged under the tree -- although she can't help looking up curiously, wondering if the associated beasts of the various deities wander here as well. She'd love to see the sacred Anzu bird again, if so.

Jareth is starting to feel himself relaxing. The idea of being, in some distant past, no only a woman but a goddess of sorts... it does make sense in a way. He smiles at himself. It also explains his overwhelming adoration for women. He settles down with Raphael, carefully tucking his skirts around his legs.

In the branches of the tree is no bird, but she can spot the shimmering scales of a large snake, placidly resting, with scales seemingly of rainbow hues. And upon that rainbow skin are little glimmers of light, like stars.

Mikal blinks interestedly, rising to look more closely, "Is that... the Uluru Rainbow Snake? The one that ate the sisters?"

Jareth glances up and sees the serpent, reaching a fond hand up without thinking, remembering the lovely statue in the garden in france.

The snake lowers its head slowly and curiously, little tongue lashing out to taste the air around it.

Raphael peeks open his eyes. "I think so. I'm sorry, little sister, but that was always more of your interest than mine, I fear. If anyone would know, though, it would be you!"

Mikal nods thoughtfully, standing still and watching the serpent cautiously. She checks her hand to be sure she's not bleeding any more, since if she remembers the myths correctly, it was blood that drew the Rainbow Serpent to eat the two sisters -- one was giving birth at the time, and the other started menstruation in sympathetic magic. To Jareth-Lilith she murmurs quietly, "Is this your Edenic serpent, Jair, or do you not recognize it?"

Jareth smiles and stays with his hand upraised toward the serpent, "It's not my old friend, but it seems... similar. Related, maybe." His voice is soft as he murmurs, "Aren't you a lovely one."

The snake doesn't answer Jareth, but it does curl down slightly, a bit around her arm, looking at her as if curious.

Jareth is patient with the snake, sitting still. S/he is starting to see just why this decision was made and is glad of that. S/he is also very glad that the sneaking suspicion s/he'd had that violence would not work against the Architect is right.

Mikal raises an eyebrow at the snake, then smiles and shrugs, sitting down again. She looks over at Lokei and sighs in quiet worry, "So... do you remember any planning done already? If everyone is depending on us, then we must do something... but what?"

Jareth sounds slightly abstracted, "I believe we may need to actually speak to him. Not to this Metatron, but to the Architect himself."

Mikal looks over curiously, "How?"

The rainbow serpent certainly doesn't seem rushed, as it slides down from the trunk to wind it's way around Jareth's arm.

Raphael is watching interestedly. Meanwhile he says, "I remember some. Joshua may be a little... biased and unhappy with El-Amon-Re, but I still think it is possible to win him back to the fold. To do that, though, he needs to actually be convinced to do so." He grins a little to Jareth. "Yes, that's the other thing. I'm not entirely convinced that the Metatron is just El-Amon-Re's voice or avatar, you know?"

Mikal gives Raphael a perplexed look, "He who? Joshua or the Architect? And what do you mean regarding Metatron?"

Jareth continues to stay very still and is unconcerned about the snake, actually enjoying the dry, smooth feel of the rainbow scales as the serpent winds around the offered arm. "Joshua is a sad child whose father seems to have forgotten him after giving him a task too big for almost anyone to bear." S/he nods to Raphael, "It was only mortals that could not bear the direct sound of El-Amon-Re's unfiltered voice. There is no need for him to speak to us through a mediary."

Mikal looks even more perplexed, "Er... need I remind us all that currently we are mortal?"

"Sorry, the Architect, I mean. Joshua is very much opposed to his Father, but he, too, wants the Architect to be 'normal' again.

"As for the MetatronÉ I've thought about it a lot, and it's just damn strange that he's the only one who gives orders. Even if the Architect was distant, his Archangels would still have access to him."

Jareth wrinkles his nose and says, "I am sorry, beloved. I am a little unstuck in time. As mortals, we could not speak to the Architect. But in this ago-time... and even now, Moroni told his that he is not speaking to his angels."

Raphael's lips quirk in a smile. "Yes, that's kind of one of the problems with what we did. We're mortal now. However... what if that story is just a cover to explain why El-Amon-Re doesn't speak to anyone anymore?"

Mikal looks down at her bow, running her fingers along the smooth wood as she murmurs quietly, "Yes... poor Moroni..." She looks up at the others, curiously asking, "Does anyone know who the Metatron actually is? Where it came from? I mean, all the archangels have 'el' on the end of their names... but it doesn't. Why's that?"

Raphael sits up. "Not sure. The name itself is Hebrew, just like most of the angelic names. So it's either a different type of being or... well, something else altogether.

Mikal says, "Has anyone seen it? What does it look like? Has it been seen at the same time as the Architect?"

Jareth nods as Mikal asks questions of Raphael, letting his mind sort through things. This is still something that feels both odd and comfortable at the same time.

Raphael shakes his head. "I haven't, ever. Not when I was a god, and not when I was a mortal. At least, that I remember."

Mikal says, "Well, maybe that should be our first move: gathering information on the enemy." She smiles, "In the hopes, of course, that eventually they will not be the enemy any longer."

Mikal muses thoughtfully, "We should talk again with Moroni and Armaros, when he arrives for Moroni -- we should find out what they recall of the Architect and the Metatron."

Raphael nods to Mikal, sitting up. "Absolutely. That's probably a good place to start. Mm... when we're done at Mount Meru we should probbaly investigate closer to Mount Zion..."

Jareth's voice is different when he speaks again, a more feminine timbre to it, "I... I may have seen Metatron... perhaps. Before..." And suddenly there's a stab of sadness so deep that s/he doesn't even realize tears have sprung to his/her eyes, "Before he cast me out, there was a stranger. An angel who was not an angel." The other hand as moved to caress the rainbow serpent.

Raphael purses his lips. "Mm. That sounds about right. Metatron isn't like the other six-winged zealots. In fact I don't think he has wings at all, that I've been told. Then again, the Mazikin don't have wings, either."

Mikal frowns thoughtfully, "Could... could Metatron be a... a fraction, a sliver of Shekinah, the same way Joshua was a part of the Desert King? And in an effort to protect him, the sliver has warped over time?" She frowns again, muttering, "Which brings up the immediate question: where then is the Shekinah Herself?"

Raphael blinks. "If that's the case... then why would Metatron -- oh, warped over time. I... maybe? It's.. also possible that it's a feminine aspect of the Architect, as well. But as for where Shekhina might be... I don't have the answer to that. None of the gods do.

Mikal is silent for a long moment... then looks up at the others with a curious expression, "Where... where is the Garden, now?"

Jareth blinks and looks at Mikal, "Eden?"

Mikal says, "We've all assumed the angels were placed about it to keep mortals out." She nods to Jareth, starting to look excited as she continues, "But... but what if it was just as important, say... to keep someone or something in?!"

Raphael is quiet for a moment. "I remember," he says slowly, "someone we were talking to -- Armaros, I think -- saying that Gan Eden is somewhere in the Deep Wyld."

Jareth catches his/her breath for a moment and says, "Should... do we have time, you think? Would it be wise?"

Mikal gets a wicked grin on her face, her eyes alight with mischief, "Really now! And what if there were a big attack on the angel stronghold at that time? I know Ravana Lord mentioned Michael Archangel turns up relatively frequently at Mt. Meru, and I think I remember him mentioning Gabriel Archangel also! So who's guarding Eden at that time with the flaming sword?" She smiles at Jareth, "Is it wise? Probably not -- but since when has battling apparently insurmountable odds appeared wise? Do we have time? All the time in the Dreamworld, I believe!"

Raphael considers Mikal's words. "Well... a 'fall' sometimes implies something left behind, as well as some sort of failure. Perhaps...." He blinks at the sudden planing.

Jareth grins at Mikal, eyes shining. S/he kisses the head of the rainbow serpent, "I remember Gan Eden very, very fondly. It would be remiss not to see what we can find in the seat of his creation, wouldn't it?"

Mikal grins mischievously again, "Where better to hide something like that, than in the Deep Wylde? We were already thinking of traveling the Deeps... why not do so to some good purpose?" She blinks, looking around suddenly as she adds in an entirely different tone of voice, "What happened to Tigernmus, I wonder?"

"That's a really good question," Raphael says. "I don't know. I don't think he wanted to stick around raksasha that could take him on."

Mikal blinks at Raphael bemusedly, "What? Take him on where?"

Jareth says, "Fight him. Perhaps kill him."

Raphael smirks a little. "Tigernmus strikes me as a bit of a macho guy...."

Mikal looks more confused, "Why would they kill him?! He was..." she blinks, suddenly remembering her first meeting with Tigernmus -- at a bar fight -- and says surprisedly, "...oh." She sighs softly, "Well, I hope we meet up with him again. He's the only person we know so far who's successfully traversed the Deep Wylde."

Mikal is silent for a moment, considering... then finally says, "Actually, the Metatron sounds more like a sliver of the Architect than of the Shekinah. Isn't it also known as the lesser YHWH or something too?" She absently plays with the end of one long braid as she considers, then slowly adds, "What if... what if he were in the Garden? Just hanging out with the Shekhinah or something, and left the Metatron out there to call him if anything went bad -- and with a simple command like, say, 'Protect my people!' -- well... I could see it sort of warping over time perhaps?"

Raphael frowns a little. "That'd be... well, I was going to say 'remarkably selfish' of him, but it's nothing more than what the Architect has done or been before, that we've seen.."

Mikal's gaze is far-away as she murmurs, "Would that isolate him from his archangels? That might do it, mightn't it? That was Moroni's complaint, after all... no speaking to the Architect himself any more." She brightens, sitting up and glowing with excitement, "That's it -- we need to talk to Moroni and Armaros again -- this time about the Metatron!"

Jareth says, "And they need to be together when we do it."

Mikal nods happily, "I think so! Also, if there's any writings on the Metatron that the rakshasa know of, we should ask to see those, don't you think?"

Raphael nods. "Agreed! As soon as we get back from Angkor Wat, we should do so. By then, Armaros should be at the raksasha encampment."

Mikal is silent for a long moment... then her eyes get very bright as she turns her gaze to Jareth-Lilith, "You... legend says you know the secret name of God, and that's why you could not be forced to return to Adamah, despite the threats of hundreds of your offspring dying every day! Do you remember?!"

Jareth nods, feeling somehow energized with the idea that there is another step along the path. Another idea of where to go.

Jareth blinks at Mikal, suprised at the question and immediately starting to dig around in his/her memory. It's Jareth's face still, but the makeup and the way s/he has been holding him/herself is different. Prouder, most straight-spined and graceful. "I did know..."

Mikal's eyes glow with excitement -- if anything could get them past an archangel and into the Garden, away from Metatron's reach, it'd surely be that ineffable Name!

Jareth murmurs, "He was my lover after all. And my beloved..." That feels strange for Jareth to say, but to Lilith it is the most normal thing in the world. And the saddest.

For a moment, the part that is Jareth imagines being cast off by Mikal and there is a sharp pain in his heart.

Mikal watches Jareth silently, feeling a small pang as it suddenly hits her: when this is all over... will Mikal be gone? Lost in Inanna or Ninshubur? Will Jareth forget her? She clasps her hands tightly in her lap and concentrates on taking slow, deep breaths so she doesn't interrupt Jareth-Lilith's searching of hir memories.

Eventually Lilith/Jareth shakes her head, "I'm so sorry, my love... no, I don't remember that. Not yet, anyway."

Mikal smiles a little shakily, finding that endearment absurdly reassuring. As she murmurs a quiet, "That's all right... it will doubtless come in good time," she also wonders how it is she feels like Inanna sometimes, and Ninshubur other times. Could it be because the lesser one was the spiritual mirror of the greater?

She takes a deep breath, sitting up straight again, "Well! We have a plan now, yes? So... shall we return to the rakshasa encampment? Or, um... at least try to?"

Jareth smiles, "I think we should return to our travels. To Ankor Wat." S/he stands slowly, reaching up to let the rainbow serpent climb back to its resting place.

Mikal studies the serpent's head carefully as it slithers away, checking for the trademark red gem she remembers being told is important. She's not surprised it's not there, but she does hope a bit frustratedly that they get a chance to talk to a lamia before they quit Mt. Meru.

The snake does not hesitate about returning to the tree, as the now-again mortals stand. Raphael grins to Mikal. "I can't say I'll be quite this coherent all the time, little sister. But maybe when this is all over we really can go back to Tehran, to that little cafe that had that great baklava."

Mikal beams shyly up at Raphael-Lokei, standing on tiptoes to gently touch his forehead, "When we are done, big brother, I promise I will heal your scars from the serpent -- because you will surely have earned that right by then!" She adds amusedly, "And perhaps we will not have to meet each other the same way again. Finding you for sale in the bazaar-" she shakes her head and rolls her eyes, "have you just figured out what a soft touch I am, or was that just bad fortune that you crossed the wrong person at the right time?"

Raphael laughs quietly. "That was Nineveh, wasn't it? Or Gomorrah? I'm pretty sure Tehran didn't have a slave market when we were there!" Then he smiles warmly to Mikal. "Thank you, little sister. You know... I'm starting to really see why the sceptres think of the lives of mortals as something wondrous. Once upon a time, we were gods, haughty, proud, stilted, formal, eyeing each other as rivals and with dislike... and now... it's like I'm a different person."

Jareth smiles as the sworn siblings recall some of their times together. S/he's starting to feel as if she's fading back into Jareth, settling back into the aspiring bard.

Mikal grins lazily up at Lokei, her body language subtly shifting as she murmurs amusedly, "Maybe you in your pantheon were like that -- but I was maid, mother, and crone! The mortals were my children, and I brought them the holy me. It's hard to separate oneself ideologically from them when they're so important to me."

Mikal considers a moment, then grins ruefully, "I think it was Gomorrah -- you were an outsider, and you insulted someone, didn't you?"

Rapahel snorts a little, smirking. "I have a feeling it wasn't the first time."

Mikal adds quietly, "That was some time before the Architect destroyed the place, of course."

He makes a quiet sound. "There's a lot of stories about the fall of Gomorrah, little sister. Only a few of them involve the Architect."

Mikal says, "Really?" She's silent a moment, then sighs quietly again, "I suppose that's a relief." She studies her hands for a moment... then looks up again and smiles determinedly, "Well! Shall we get moving?We have a long way yet to go, after all.

Raphael nods, smiling. "Yes. Angkor Wat is waiting, I imagine.';

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

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