| Logs |
2009 October 18
| When The Bough Breaks |
| Realms |
Retired
| Reality Fault |
General Info
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| Realms: Bough Logs |
Fifth Movement, Seventh Verse
The afternoon following the battle is somberness giving way to the post-battle euphoria. Without being too morbid, Vhibishana points out, those who were not going to survive their wounds have passed on and the brief initial mourning for siblings and cousins has begun. Many are starting to feel that a celebration of their victory in the next day or so is in order, but for once -- again as Vhibishana points out -- for once Ravana is not quick to start the victory celebrations. He has decreed that it be delayed for a day. This will also see Tawhaki arrive during the celebration, which is appropriate and convenient for all involved.
By that afternoon, not many of the wounded are back on their feet, but most are stable and quite, quite eager to become mobile again, to the point where Ravana has had to give specific orders that they remain. He gives those orders with a gleam in his eye, however; this is apparently nothing new to the raksasha.
Norris took the first opportunity to meet with someone at the Rakshasa armory and entreat them for time at the forge. He is bursting with ideas and creativity, and craves to make himself a new metal armor that will help him to better defend his pack. When asked, he comments to Mikal that he will serve best whatever she thinks is wisest...he is happy to go in search of information, but boosting morale is also important.
As befits the last redoubt of the Raksasha, the forges rival those of the Winter Palace, in variety if not in size. Located in a cave bored into Mount Meru, there are a dozen forges and a score of anvils, and the place rings with the hammering of armor and weapons being repaired. Several of the forges are hot enough to handle steel, some of which is mined from deeper within Mount Meru itself; this high-carbon steel is considered sacred, however Suryakini has no problem gifting Norris with an ingot which will alloy well with the more typical carbon steel that is available in much greater amounts in the smithy."
Polearms and swords would normally fill the racks here, but what is there now are repaired weapons and weapons awaiting repair, and the same for the lamellar, scale, and banded armor that is also being repaired. The whitesmithing work is done in another cave, in part because the blacksmithy is hot and oppressive; the floor is strewn with straw to ensure footing, and to cut down on the chance of random fires that would be hard to put out with mats. The air is filled with the smell of coal fires, hot metal, and singed fur. Some of the tools are a little odd, made for the backwards Raksasha hand, but Norris seems to have no problem at all with them. After a time, it's almost as if he is comfortably familiar with the smithy already.
When Jareth blinks back into the rakshasa encampment and finds that Mikal is sequestered with Ravana, he smiles to himself and moves around the camp, finding places that he can be useful. He's feeling a bit spread thin and heartsick and throws himself into the efforts to help the wounded and give peace to those that will not recover.
Time passes Norris as if Apollo's horses were replaced with cheetahs. He completely loses track of the hours as he basks in the heat of the forge. Being that he doesn't get hungry or tired, he completely forgets to stop unless someone interrupts him...
Norris has been working steadily for a long time now; he's lost track of time, at least until he feels a Raksasha hand batting him lightly on the shoulder. (Because the hands are backwards, patting his shoulder is not easily doable.) It is Suryakini, with a square of cloth folded in such a way as to hold a small loaf of bread, a wedge of cheese, strips of jerked beef, and some fruit. "Hoy, Bear! I've seen some mortals work for a long time on the anvil, but you're like a man possessed! Come on, have some food and take a breather, step back and have a look at your work."
Norris huhwhus? Oh. Time, right, that thing that happens that's linear. Ow. Wait, he just realized something. He may not get hungry, or get tired, but he can still get sore! And man his legs ache. "Oh. Yuh. Thanks, ladysmith. Was, uh...very focused." It was like this the time he was whitesmithing. His daughter Harmonia's wedding gift, a silver amulet. Aphrodite had to very determinedly get his attention doing something very distracting before he realized he'd been working on it for nearly two days straight. He smiles thankfully to Surya, and gazes to see what he's come up with in his crafting haze.
Norris eats, and talks. And then he picks up the mace he was gifted. "This was given to me for a reason." he suddenly says to Suryva, his voice solem. "I know this now. The ghost saw this in me, before I even knew it myself."
Suryakini mms, examinig the mace. "It's well-made," she notes. "There aren't many, if any, left that are like it. What is it you think the ghost saw in you?"
Norris has indeed been busy as the time has sped by. His work is excellent, and it is clearly, undoubtedly his work: A Grecian carapace breastplate. Steel, which his Greeks did not often, if at all, work with. While not yet wrought with the fittings that it should, it is definitely a good base, one of his better works.
Suryakini huhs softly as she looks over Norris's work with him, chewing on her decidedly more carnivorous lunch. "Very nice work, I'd say. I haven't seen Olympian armor in kalpas, but I'd say it's sturdier than most of the bronze carapaces I've seen. Good mix of hard and soft steel, too. How much armor have you made in the past, Bear?"
Norris looks amazed...the main piece is close to done, except for the ornamentation. All that's left are the armplates, greaves, and the straps to go with it. "This is the finest piece I have made...in a very long time." he says softly, marvelling at the work. He was the one that forged the Aegis for Athena...the tales said that it was made from the head of the Medusa. The tales could not have been more wrong, and the shield was instead made in rememberance of the triune Goddess that Athene once was, before the usurper came. He touches the burnished steel, and tears come to his eyes. It is a little while longer before he puts his work aside and eats.
Suryakini nods softly. "Vengeance is a dark road. You've only need to ask any number of Raksasha. In kalpas past, vengeance fueled many a glorious war, but I don't think we've the luxury of blood fueds these days. Which doesn't mean you can't hit them over the head a good one when you get a chance, even in passing."
Norris's eyes get dark. "This isn't about a blood feud. I didn't start this war. I wanted to build, to love, to live with my growing family. El Amon changed that. He's the one that wanted it all." His jaw gets an unfamiliar set. "One of his said that to everything there is a season. A time to build, and a time to break down. I have been a builder for many times. But I forget, that I have also been a destroyer, whether I intended to or not." He trails off. "I am become death, destroyer of worlds." he whispers.
"Who I am is a builder. But lest I forget, I am also something that never was before. I am a warrior. And this is a true weapon, not a tool, like my hammer. And it will be used to its purpose.
"I will find out the truth."
Suryakini is silent at that, for a very long moment, before gently placing an arm across Norris's shoulder; it feels a little odd with the hand the way it is. "Those are the words of Lord Krishna to Prince Arjuna, in telling the prince how he was to do his duty and wage war as a kshatriya should. 'Kalo Asmi Loka-ksaya-krit Pravardho, Lokan Samartum iha Pravattah.' And with that, Lord Krishna showed the prince that he, too, was a creature of duty. You are mortal, Bear. That sort of weight doesn't have to be on your shoulders." Unspoken, though, is the silent, "Does it?" that she appends to her statement.
Norris shakes his head. "I cannot let that vengeance consume me. But I cannot ignore it, either. Blood calls to blood. Actions have consequences. And when I find out the fates of my mother and my wife, I shall have to remind the one responsible of that."
Suryakini remains a little in awe and quietly respectful while Norris is lost in his thoughts, then as they eat she lets conversation trend towards lighter and more technical topics.
Norris seems now, far less like Norris, and far more the god, Hephaestus. He has been speaking in folksy tongue less and less, these days. And his eyes look intensely at Suryakini. "El-Amon and his angels are everyone's responsibility, Smith Suryakini. It is the responsibility of all to resist tyranny, not simply those that have been ordered to it by Krishna. If the duty weighs on me, it is because it weighs on us all. We have all lost to this war, in large and small ways. El-Amon would surely kill or bludgeon me into submission as well, the same as my old family. Same as my new one." His eyes flash like burning coals. "I am iron, and I am steel, and I will not bend or break to his will."
Suryakini looks surprised and more than a bit taken aback, but she swallows, and nods. "Y-yes, Sir. I mean, Bear. I mean, Sir. And we will not cease until Lord Ravana says our duty to Lord Krishna has completed." She bows her head, saluting. "The forge is yours, you have but to ask and it will be made ready for you."
Norris nods to Suryakini, and it is only because he is caught up in the fervor of the moment, in the creature he was, that he doesn't realize that he has scared the rakshasa. "Thank you for your hospitality, Smith." He rumbles, starting to rise...and then he relizes his legs feel strange, and he eyes them carefully, trying to rise to his feet.
Norris does not need a moment to understand what had happened...he remembers now, what it was like, to have legs that felt like this. Hephasetus's legs were like that. Twisted. Crippled. He could walk, and stand, and move, but not as easily or athletically as others. And it seemed that in this time of creation, in this time of remembering, he was becoming more like the god he was. And as Norris comes back to himself, gets that curious look on his face, he does not know if that transformation was assurance...or warning.
Norris finds, briefly, that his legs appear to not be shaped quite the way they should be when he tries to stand. But as he focusses, becomes more 'Norris' again, he seems able to work the kinks out of his legs, and they feel better; like recovering from a charley horse of some kind.
Noting Jareth's expression, though, Norris remembers they haven't given Jareth the good news. "Mebbe we should visit our wounded friend?" he suggests to Mikal.
Mikal spent a lovely and languid night with Ravana. The next morning she pulls on the short tunic she was wearing the previous day and goes with Ravana to meet with and encourage the wounded -- she figures a pretty girl in a short outfit will be a nice pick-me-up! She also smiles at Jareth and suggests he definitely work at the forges -- she knows he'll learn a lot and it will benefit the pack greatly. When she and the rakshasa lord come across Vibhishana, she quietly asks him if he has a moment to perhaps talk with Cat? She's worried about her packmate; he seems quite heartsick still.
Mikal is relieved when they come across Jareth as well -- she gives him a tight hug, whispering, "How are you feeling, love?"
Jareth smiles and wraps his arms around his lovely little mate, kissing her forehead just over her third eye. He shakes his head with a shrug, "There's a lot of pain just now, and I find that I'm frustrated that I can't do much to help it. Just to distract from it."
Mikal smiles, nuzzling against Jareth as she murmurs, "I have some good news for you, I think, love -- Janiel's here! He's got a broken wing and a broken leg, but he's all right. He's with the other angels so they don't suspect him." She blinks at a sudden thought, then whirls around, still holding Jareth's hand, "Ravana Lord, I have a thought?" She glances around to make sure no one else is close before she stands on tiptoes to whisper to them both, "Let's release Janiel as soon as possible, so he can talk to the deserter angels!" She considers thoughtfully, "Is there a way to heal him more quickly than usual?" She grins, adding, "We might even let the other angels know he died in interrogation, if he wishes to disappear thoroughly?"
Raphael is quite intently and almost obviously being Mikal's protective brother, quite aware as he is of the effect the short tunic has on people -- including raksasha -- of the appropriate inclination. Ravana, however, give serious consideration to Mikal's request. "It might work in our favor," he muses out loud. "Especially if we are in the process of forming an actual coalition. Unfortunately, at least one of his wings is broken, and he has other injuries that will keep him in bed for some time. If you wish to meet with him, however, I can arrange that easilly.
Jareth says, "I would like that very much, Ravanna."
Mikal glances over at Jareth and smiles, "Do you want time alone with him, love?"
Jareth thinks about that for a long while and says, "I think not, love." He smiles crookedly, "I think I'm going to need a little moral support. I feel somehow that we got him hurt."
Mikal adds quietly, "Some time when you feel ready too, Cat, you might want to talk some with Ravana Lord about the Mazikim. I thought you'd be the most likely to know something of them?" She glances back up at the very tall rakshasa and gravely adds, "What I want to know is this: first, what happened to the guards that were around the shield mechanism? and second, how did the angels get to Marchorius to make the offer? I fear it could not have occurred until after the Mazikim became your allies... which makes me wonder, because you'd said they were all staying within the encampment. So... who is the traitor or slack guard within your ranks, honored lord, that let Marchorius out and in again?"
Mikal hugs Jareth gently, "We did not, mon chat beau. It was the dangers of war. But I understand how you come to feel that way, I think, and if you'll let me I'd be quite glad to be your moral support?"
Jareth nods and then smiles to Ravanna, "Thank you for all you have done."
Ravana scowls. "I do not yet know all the details. Some of the guards were killed. Vhibishana does suspect that he had assistance from some of the other Mazikim or raksasha, as much as it pains me to say it, and I am reluctant to start a purge of some sort. It will have to be handled quietly, and I am still considering the best way to approach this.
"As for how the Angels contacted him... it could have been any time, if he had assistance. In hindsight it seems that 'the enemy of my enemy is my enemy's enemy, nothing more and nothing less.'" He smiles quietly to Jareth. "Thank you. You have nothing to thank me for. On the contrary, it is you four who helped to carry the day. Or the evening, as the case is."
Mikal considers gravely for a few heartbeats, then looks up again at the two taller men, "Do you have a few men you suspect in particular, Ravana Lord? If you do, I have a way to perhaps determine guilt?"
Ravana considers, then glances around. "A few. We are a cunning lot at heart -- warriors, yes, but of course we enjoyed our games of wile and treachery with the gods in the before time. I suspect a few who may have perhaps not fully grasped the enormity of our duty to Lord Krishna, and who seek trickery for it's own sake. But aside from having Vhibishana have his agents keep watch on them, I do not know what to do. There is scarce little proof to bring to bear on any of them." He looks curiously at Mikal. "What do you propose?
Norris is quite thoroughly home, and o'erwhelmed by Surya's kind gift. He spends a good amount of time just testing a bit of his new ingot with steel, and being wel pleased with the results. Before long he's shaping, pounding, and working a breastplate into shape, sweating in the heat and feeling quite thoroughly at peace with himself. For now.
Mikal considers for a few moments, absently stroking her fingers over Jareth's hand that she's holding... then she looks up with a mischievous grin, "A trap, honored lord -- a sort of spider's web!"
Mikal says, "But it can wait until you've narrowed down your suspected to somewhere between ten and twenty, for most efficaciousness, I think."
Ravana smiles wryly. "Yes, the current list between Vhibishana and I tops off at about fifty names. We will work on shortening that list. A trap, eh? That should work well. I definitely would like to hear more, but first, we will work on making that list shorter."
Mikal smiles up at the rakshasa lord, her eyes sparkling, "Let me know when you are ready, then, Ravana Lord. For now, shall we go talk of the Mazikim?" She glances a bit worriedly at Jareth, adding, "Do you feel up for that, love?"
Jareth chuckles quietly and says, "Intrigue should take my mind off the wounded, I believe."
Mikal beams up at Jareth, hugging him gently, then smiling at Ravana, "Lead the way, honored lord?"
Ravana nods, and gestures, leading the three to a part of the redoubt that still has a fairly strong guard presence. The Mazikim are within the large tent here, keeping themselves amused and/or distracted -- not quite prisoners, but certainly not given the free reign of the camp.
As they enter, Asmodeus rises smoothly from the low desk he has been reading a scroll upon. "Lord Ravana, Rabbit and Cat and Wolf," he greets solemnly.
Ravana inclines his head. "Lord Asmodeus," he says, then turns to look at Jareth, brow raised in invitation to begin.
Mikal nods politely to the leader of the Mazikim, then glances curiously around at the others. She's still holding Jareth's hand, and resting her free hand on the back of Raphael's heavily-maned neck.
Jareth squeezes Mikal's hand and then steps forward, smiling the slightly sad smile that's been on his face rather a lot the last day, "Greetings, Asmodeus. How fare you and yours in the aftermath of the slaughter?"
The surviving Mazikim begin to gather behind and around Asmodeus. The old devil purses his lips. "Andramalech was injured somewhat, but he survived. Two of our number were killed by massed angels, their passing is mourned but they died as they had dearly hoped they would. And of course, there is Marcharios...."
Jareth nods, some of his melancholy slipping away, to be replaced by stern disapproval, "Yes, there is that one."
Asmodeus pauses, as if taken aback by Jareth's tone. "Yes," he says at last. "His disposition we have left in the hands of Lord Ravana. We are... dismayed and unhappy that he would turn coat to the Architect."
Jareth shakes his head, "But not surprised?" There is something so familiar about these sceptres that makes a part of Jareth's brain itch. He takes several breaths and says, "And do you think he was alone in his treachery?"
Mikal silently studies the Mazikim behind Asmodeus as Jareth speaks, searching for interesting reactions.
The Mazikim behind Asmodeus have a variety of expressions, none of which seem to be irritation or insult or anger the questioning. Most seem to be angrily embarrassed at Macharios's actions, sullen in their unhappiness at that one's betrayal. At Jareth's question, however, there is a rising rumble of denial and oath-swearing, which calms only when Asmodeus half-turns and holds up a hand. Turning back to Jareth, he says simply. "Surprised, yes, though not as much as I perhaps should be. I have many emotions over his betrayal, and it was not expected. Even so, he had been offered the chance to return to the legions of Heaven before, and was betrayed. Of all of us, his was the greatest yearning to be amongst the Host again. I had thought that his bitterness and anger at being rejected and betrayed before overwhelmed any hope he had of trying to go back to them. And I believe he was indeed working alone.”
Mikal blinks, quite frankly astonished at the apparently dull-witted demon's gullibility. Rejected and betrayed repeatedly?! She shakes her head slowly in silent rue. Poor thing.
Jareth shakes his head and there's a moment where a mind other than Jareth's whispers about how it hurt to be ejected from the presence of the Light of Heaven. His irritation ebbs a little and tears sting his eyes, "If he was working alone, how was he approached?"
Asmodeus shakes his head. "I do not know. I can only suspect that he slipped out of camp one night, and summoned or called to an angel he once knew. I am sure interrogation will tell you which.”
Mikal tilts her head thoughtfully, making a few mental notes. One, it appears Asmodeus no longer cares about Marcharios' fate... and two, she has no intention of letting that interrogation happen anywhere near Jareth!
The goddess that Jareth once was whispers in the back of his mind, murmuring to him that he can extract a promise from Asmodeus, one that the old devil will not be able to break without serious harm to himself. When that voice awakens, Asmodeus can see something stirring behind Jareth's eyes, the heady scents of Babylon seeming to lay on the young bard's skin.
Jareth's voice has echoes of the Aum in it as he says to Asmodeus, "Your people will swear to you, lawyer, and you will swear to me that your people will never again betray the rakshasa, and you will swear that you will vouch for their loyalty. It will be on your head."
Mikal's eyebrows shoot right up at that, and she stares in surprise at Jareth for a moment... then a slow smile crosses her lips as she murmurs mentally to Raphael, [Well, well, well... the Lady awakens!]
Asmodeus blinks, looking like you could knock him over with a feather. Adramelech's jaw actually drops, and he murmurs something disbelieving in Assyrian. Meanwhile, Asmodeus is -- barely -- recovered, and he says, a touch shakily, "Yes, La-- er, Cat. Sir." Almost automatically he turns to the others. "So swear! Immediately, each of you!" The old devil clearly does not want whatever sword of Damocles that has been set on him to have any excuse to drop, and he still has some clout with his own. With only some hesitation -- Adramelech with no hesitation at all -- each of the surviving Mazikim swear to never betray the Raksasha.
When done, Asmodeus turns to Jareth, still looking a little dazed, and inclines his head, reciting the oath as well, adding, "I affirm before those present, that I vouch for these Mazikim's loyalty. You will find no betrayal from us.
For his part, Ravanna's jaw is dropped. His blinking is almost audible.
Mikal smiles up at Ravana, her eyes sparkling with repressed amusement. To her credit, her grin is only a little bit smug as she murmurs, "Will my lovely Cat's actions satisfy your concerns regarding the Mazikim, Ravana Lord?"
To Mikal's hearing, Adramelech murmured, "The voice of a god...? No... Goddess? It cannot be!"
Ravana manages to rouse himself, and he nods. "Ah... yes. Yes, that will be acceptable. More than acceptable."
Mikal grins at Adramelech, her teeth gleaming sharply as she answers in the same language, "And why not?" She steps forward and gently takes Jareth's hand, standing as tall as she can at her diminutive size and staring interestedly up at the looming Mazikim.
Jareth nods his head once, the ancient goddess still looking out of his eyes as he says, "I accept your promise, Mazikim. May you never break it."
Adramelech's yellow eyes flick to Mikal's, and the huge Mazikim demon looks about to say something. instead he clasps his hands before him, bowing his head discretely before Jareth and Mikal. When he straightens, Baal Andramelech's eyes are not topaz, but a rich pale brown.
None of the Mazikim seem to notice. For his part, Asmodeus, inclines his head to Jareth respectfully. "It shall be so, Lad-- er, Cat, I mean, forgive me. We shall not break it," he adds, half-glancing over his shoulder at the other Mazikim as if to emphasize to them that they had best not do anything to break their vows or they will answer to him first."
Jareth turns to Ravana, "And your people, Ravana?"
Mikal tilts her head thoughtfully, studying the demon's eyes as the others talk, trying to figure out what caused the change.
Ravana blinks a little at Jareth's sudden question. "Er... that is, yes, what of them?"
Mikal murmurs without looking away from the Mazikim she's studying, "Justice would require you make the same promise back to these people, surely?"
If Adramelech knows his eyes changed, he does not give any indicator of it, but he is standing tall, hands clasped behind his back, calmly -- more calmly than the mortals remember him being.
Ravana ahs! and nods, "Yes of course. Forgive me, please." He straightens, and utters the vow without hesitation, that he will not betray the Mazikim, nor will any under him do so.
Mikal waits until Ravana has finished speaking before she smiles at Baal Andramalech and murmurs, "Your eyes have changed. Have you remembered before -- when you were something greater?"
Mikal tilts her head and adds thoughtfully, "You're standing taller too."
Norris says, "The one who wielded it left behind a sister, that despaired at his death. Wanted me to use it, to avenge the one who was dead. I have also lost family, and something in me also cries out for vengeance."
Jareth nods to Ravana and says, "Thank you, Lord Ravana." He turns at Mikal's words and examines the Mazikim, head tipped as if he is trying to see something familiar.
Mikal smiles at Jareth, then waves a hand to indicate, "Look, they're not that yellow shade any more -- they're a really pretty brown." She adds politely to the entity, "You seem calmer too?"
Adramalech is acutely aware of the attention he is getting; Asmodeus has also turned and is studying the Mazikim once-god acutely. Adramalech shifts his stance a little, looking uncomfortable, and clasps his hands together in salute. "Please excuse me, if... if there is nothing more...." He hesitates just long enough to receive a confirmation of some sort from Jareth; his entire body language is screaming about wanting to get away.
Jareth presses his hands together in front of himself and bows to Adramalech, murmuring, "Go with our blessings, child."
Mikal looks a bit surprised, and steps forward, "Wait, Cat, please?" She reaches up to gently touch the Mazikim's hands, "I apologize, Baal Andramalech. I did not mean to cause you discomfort. I thought this was a good change."
Adramalech looks about ready to evaporate, but at Mikal's words he freezes in place, and gives a bit of a start as she touches his hands. He says, quietly, and earnestly. "I understand, Lady, I just.... Much is happening, and... forgive me but I need time...." Asmodeus has been stonily silent throughout all this, with an utterly unreadable expression and body language.
Mikal nods and smiles, stepping back again to replicate Jareth's polite bow, "Thank you for your patience, then. Go, rest, reflect."
It is incredible that such a large, oddly-shaped creature can move quite so fast, but he does. Adramelech is absent almost even before anyone notices, the only remainder being the departing stomp of his titanic footsteps. When he is gone, Asmodeus asks in a calm voice, "What, may I ask, was that about?" Should anyone look at him, his eyes, too, have changed -- they are a dim, smouldering red. Still, though, Asmodeus's voice is calm and polite, and his posture is non-threatening. Very lawyer-like.
Mikal studies Asmodeus with interest as well, then glances at the other Mazikim -- has anyone else had their eye color change?
The other Mazikim look more or less a little bewildered at what is transpiring between the mortals and their leader. None of them seem to have changed in any noticable way.
Mikal says politely, "I am not entirely sure, Asmodeus Lord. However, here is what I know: Adramalech murmured in Assyrian, 'The voice of a god? No, goddess? It cannot be!' To which I replied in the same tongue, 'And why not?' At that point it appeared Adramalech suppressed an urge to say something, and simply bowed to me. When he straightened, his eyes were not longer that topaz color, but rather a pale brown."
Jareth murmurs, "Your own eyes have taken on an unusual hue."
Mikal adds ruefully, "If I have given offense, I truly apologize. I thought it a good sign, rather than cause for remorse or anguish." She nods to Jareth, "Yes, but I think his are due to upset?"
Asmodeus says, "Goddess, you say. I see. ...No. No, I do not see. It is a mystery. Only with the voice of a goddess couldst thou lay upon me and mine a geas of power, to cause me to break mitzvah and swear an oath -- an oath I have no intention of going back upon, I add. And yet it seems as if Adramelech has heard more than that voice." He takes in a deep, calming breath, closing his eyes; when he opens them again, they are normal, and he gives a slight smile. "Well. I should not be angry. Adramelech reawakening to his self as a god can only be a good thing, yes?"
Mikal looks a bit taken aback, "I... would think so, yes?" She adds hesitantly, "What, er... is mitzvah? Is it reparable?"
Asmodeus makes a quiet sound, bit by bit returning to the affable-if-slightly-threatening-family-lawyer way of carrying himself and speaking. "You could say it's a sort of geas, one that an aspect of El-Amon-Re imposed upon the first people to claim him as their one and only god. I am subject to mitzvah because I could not be expected to stand as accuser of mortals if I did not myself adhere to their laws, now could I? Ah," he sighs gustily, as he sits at the table again. "But it has been a long time since it has been enforced, and even longer since I was in the Architect's service. Still, geasa are like that, eh? You hold to them because you do not want whatever power holding it back to come down on you."
Mikal is silent a moment, studying the demon... then she says simply, "I do not understand, but I have clearly troubled you. I will withdraw, and leave you in peace." She looks up at Ravana, adding quietly, "We've still to talk to Marcharios, after all... and the angels."
Jareth steps close to Asmodeus and puts his hand on the devil's shoulder, voice gentle, "Even when he was sane, he understood that sometimes Mitzvah must be broken for the greater good."
Asmodeus blinks at Jareth, then the devil's eyes soften a little, and he smiles, patting Jareth's hand. "True. Very true. And we loved him for that mercy, once upon a time.
"I will ensure that no more unpleasant surprises arise from our ranks. Geas or not, I promise, we will not disappoint you."
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