| Logs |
2009 November 01
| When The Bough Breaks |
| Realms |
Retired
| Reality Fault |
General Info
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| Realms: Bough Logs |
Fifth Movement, Ninth Verse
Shortly after Armaros arrives, he has a brief meeting of introduction with Moroniel -- now Moroni -- which goes pleasantly, though Moroni insists that Armaros rest after the long trip, at least to take a nap, before they sit down with heads together. This strikes Armaros as a good idea, as he is indeed tired from the trip, and it allows the mortals the chance to see how Janiel is doing.
Several of the angels have been separated from their comrades, the reasons given being medical attention or questioning... which considering the rout that the angelic host just experienced, would yield little if any good information, so the questioning is really little more than a short debriefing, name and rank, before being returned to the others. Most of the angels are too weary to attempt escape, or wounded, or demoralized. Many are attempting to try and make sense of what happened.
The tent Janiel is in -- conspicuously surrounded by a ring of salt like all of the tents with angels within them -- is much like any of the others that have angels within them, except Janiel is alone, and is meditating quietly while lying prone on a mat, the better to let the wings heal instead of lying on them. He does, however, perk up attentively when the mortals arrive, and he attempts to sit up. "Oh! H-hello, I hadn't expected... visitors, while here...."
Jareth smiles and makes a "down" motion with his hands, "Don't rise, Janiel. You need to heal. We can speak while you do that."
Norris smiles kindly at the sceptre, feeling generally far more genial and positive after his passionate conversation with Mikal. "Yuh still in a lotta pain, there?" he queries sympathetically. "Rabbit an I did best we could."
Mikal checks with whomever is taking the Name-Rank-Serial Number information -- she wants to compare it to the list of angels for which they have True Names, so she asks if she may have a list of the captured once it is compiled, please? After that she follows the others, glancing around curiously and wondering how the rakshasa and Ravana, and the Mazikim are doing.
Jareth settles to the ground beside Janiel, resting a hand on the angel's shoulder with gentle pressure to get him to stay down.
The chief interrogator -- a grizzled raksasha lady who looks like she can go from grandmother to drill-instructor in nothing flat -- is quite cheerful towards Mikal, and is more than happy to provide her with a prisoner list.
Janiel complies, looking a little relieved as he lies back down; a faint sheen of sweat had appeared on his brow when he tried to stand. "Not a lot of pain, no," he says. Then, "Well, only when I move. I appreciate what you did for me, thank you. I would likely have not been able to fly again had you not properly splinted my wings."
Mikal thanks the rakshasa with warm relief. In her current mental state she can't help eyeing the woman thoughtfully -- part of her thinks this formidable woman would make an outstanding priestess!
Mikal very, very gently strokes the tips of some of the gleaming white feathers, then smiles ruefully at Janiel, "It was a quick job, but I did my best. I hope it suffices for you. How long does it take your people to heal?"
Norris shakes his head. "That be a durn shame, too." He smiles a little. "Wonder sometime what it'd be like to fly."
Janiel says, "Not long. We are somewhat hardy, and normally if not killed outright, we heal fairly quick. I should not fly for at least two months, however.
Jareth smiles and moves to actually lie down beside Janiel, eyes a little tight as he realizes how much pain the angel must be in. And all for his convictions and the sake of a vow. He rests on his side, so he can more easily look at the angel, "I'm glad my pack was able to help you."
Norris rubs his hands. "We's glad to help. Sorry you had to get hurt inna first place, too. Bad bit a' business, allaway around."
Mikal studies the angel's face, the slight sheen of sweat on his skin, and the tightness from pain that's around his eyes... then she murmurs softly, "Guys... Janiel knows we wish him well now. We can talk more to him later, though, all right? Right now I think he needs his rest."
When Mikal says that, Janiel says quickly, "Wait... wait, please. There's one thing I needed to tell you...."
Mikal pauses, giving Jareth a long, thoughtful look... then adds slowly, "Unless... there is more we can do for him?" She turns her steady gaze on the angel, her expression inquiring.
Jareth reaches to stroke the angel's back gently, just wanting to soothe the poor sceptre, "Then speak, friend."
Janiel swallows, then says, quietly. "When mustering us for the attack, we did not expect Uriel to lead it. But after he announced that he was leading the attack... I was close by, heard him speak to two angels, who were not known to me. He said unto them, 'Go quietly unto Babylon, should we not return, and go unto it's depths, yea, as deep beneath the city as the Silks Quarter is deep in vice, and find the vault with seven seals and marked with the sign of the LORD. If it is indeed there, deep beneath the city of the harlot, return here with knowledge of it, and Michael shall storm the city, that city of iniquity that is a blight upon this holy mount, and break the seals there.'
"I do not know what he thinks might be there, but I can... I can only imagine it isn't... intended to be good."
Mikal raises a thoughtful eyebrow at that, then looks inquiringly at the others, "Shall we talk about that elsewhere, so Janiel can sleep? Or is there more we can do for him?" She makes quiet mental notes about this supposed vault. Could this be something like where Vishnu sleeps? Definitely worth looking into later -- and asking Jareth about, in case it's something Lilith remembers.
Norris is considering this himself, wondering, and also revulsed but Uriel's casual desire to raze a city. "Nothin more I kin do. Not a doctor, just a fella what paid attention to the herbalist woman in town...
Mikal smiles at Norris, "No worries. We can go find Ravana for the next things we're supposed to do today." She glances inquiringly at Jareth, not wishing to hurry her heartsick lover. If being here with Janiel helps him, Mikal certainly isn't going to hurry Jareth away.
Jareth reaches out, fingers gently touching the splinted wings as he speaks quietly, "You have sacrificed so much for what you wanted to be Truth, Janiel... and you have offered us help and information..." He is obvious pained at the shape the angel is in and the deep wish he has to ease the suffering comes through, trickling from his fingers as he touches the wounded pinions. He himself does not realize what he's doing until the expression on Janiel's face changes to one of awed surprise.
Mikal raises an eyebrow, silently impressed at what she's seeing. She's careful to remain still and silent, although she nods once, smiling faintly, when Raphael comments startledly, [Whoa! Are you seeing that too, little sister?]
Janiel's wings twitch a little, and the angel's breath catches as he moves them , very timidly, again. "They.. they no longer hurt," he breathes, "I... I am still weak, but... they feel as if I have been healing for weeks...!"
Mikal's smile broadens, and she beams proudly at Jareth, "You are amazing, mon chat! How do you feel?"
Jareth blinks, looking at his own hand as if he had never seen it before.
Norris stares at Jareth, and then at those twitching wings, and then back at Jareth. "Well day-um. Look like something deep awakening in you, Cat. You got the touch." he murmurs, impressed.
Mikal steps over to gently and reassuringly stroke Jareth's hair. She knows the first discovery of amazing things can be wildly disconcerting, after all.
Jareth's mouth moves and nothing comes out. And then he abruptly sits up, reaching for Janiel's leg, flashing a brief, stunned smile at his mate and his friend.
Mikal grins proudly at Jareth again, but adds cautioningly, "Don't wear yourself out, Cat. Be careful, yes?"
Norris speaks up. "Doan push yourself too hard, Cat. Only do it iffn ya can..." he cautions carefully. He says it almost on top of Mikal, and looks ruefully at her.
Mikal giggles and flashes a grin at Norris.
Jareth is either not hearing his lovers or just too caught up in what he's just discovered to say anything about it. Beneath Jareth's hands, he can feel the bone knitting, properly and the way it should. It's not a complete heal, but much of the worst trauma has been healed; fortunately the bone was already seated properly.
Jareth's voice is unusually tense and cracks a little as he asks the sceptre, "How is the pain?" He seems almost to be vibrating with the excitement of this discovery and his thoughts are tumbling fast. This is a way he can be useful to his pack on this dangerous path!
Mikal goes back to reassuringly stroking Jareth's hair, a bit worried at how tense the young man seems.
Jareth reaches up with the hand that's not still resting on Janiel to take Mikal's hand and press a kiss into the palm of her hand.
Janiel's voice is a little stronger now, though still filled with wonder. "It's... it's mostly gone. I'm just a little bit sore, now, but... not in any pain...."
Norris squeezes Jareth's shoulder. "How you feel? Givin of yerself to heal, coul' be debilitatin'. You okay?"
Mikal murmurs softly, "Blessings on you, angel. Rest now; we will leave you in peace and talk more later." She wants to get Jareth out of here, to check him over and make sure he's all right, "Bear, could you help Cat, please, if he needs it? We should go."
Jareth is still smiling a little giddily and he leans over to kiss Janiel's temple, "Rest. Recover. Thank you..." He moves to stand up, concentrating on it with more care than normal.
Mikal holds the tentflap open, waiting for the others.
Norris can see that Jareth's moving slower, and provides friendly support to his friend as they duck under Mikal's help-open tentflap.
Norris says, "Shoulda known you'd become a healer, prettyboy. You got that kinda heart."
Mikal grins at her packbrothers, then hastily leads them to their tent, "Let's make sure he's all right before we go on with the other things we've got planned for the day, all right?"
Jareth grins up at Norris and then straightens up slightly. He's not feeling physically dizzy, just sort of ecstatically stunned at the appearance of this gift. He reaches for Mikal's hand, "I'm fine, mon amour! A little tired is all!"
Mikal looks worriedly up into Jareth's face, her free hand gently cupping Jareth's cheek, "You're sure, lover?"
Jareth is grinning broadly enough to show every tooth in his mouth and the expression of worry and sadness that's been lurking around his eyes is completely banished for the moment, "I healed him, mon lapin!" There's awe there and he wraps his arms around Mikal, pulling her in so he can kiss her, pouring the excitement and joy of this new discovery into it.
Norris chuckles a little at the two of them fussing over the bard. "We should give him some air, Rabbit, annat. Gonna smother him with all our caring."
Mikal squeaks startledly at the hug, but responds gamely to the unexpected kiss -- her arms slip about Jareth's neck and she stands on tiptoes to reach him, returning the kiss eagerly. It does her heart joy to see Jareth his happy self again!
Norris stiffles a chuckle, watching the two of them together, so gleeful and cute.
Jareth grins at Mikal when the kiss breaks and turns to Norris, wrapping his arms around the big smith to hug him tightly, sunny smile turned upward, "I'm not smothing, Bear. Believe me."
Mikal giggles happily, leaning against both men and hugging them about the waist. She sighs in quiet relief as well. She'd been worried about Jareth.
Norris is only a little surprised by the hug, and touches his forehead to Jareth's fondly. "Well, dun glad t' hear it, then." he purrs, kissing the young man's cheek. There aren't many nicer things than a three-way embrace.
Jareth chuckles and returns the quick kiss on the corner of Norris' mouth. He takes a deep breath and says, "We shouldn't waste time with me sitting around right now... I'm fine. I'm no more tired than a good brisk run..."
As the three are hugging each other, there is a call raised up from the sentries, heralding an approach.
Norris grins. "Donno. Spendin time up close with y'all aint so..." he's cut off by the call, and looks up curiously.
Mikal looks up alertly -- then whirls to the others and says urgently, "That must be the Uluru representative! Quick, we should clean up and look nice for when Ravana Lord introduces us to him -- he said Tawhaki would want to meet us specifically. The battle may bring Uluru actively to our side in this conflict!"
Norris uhs. "Durn. An my new armor aint fully done yet." He tugs at his clothes. "Durn it, ah need to get somethin' nicer t' wear."
Jareth nods and looks down at himself, then starts tugging his tunic off, grinning, "We could just get Rabbit to dress us, like she did when we all needed warmer coats."
Mikal grins and shakes her head, "Sillies. We can all dress ourselves! We all have the ability, remember?"
Norris ohs. "Yuh. Fergot about that."
Mikal grabs one hand of each man, hustling them towards the little stream, "A quick rinse-down won't hurt, though, so we're clean!"
Jareth slings his shirt over his bare shoulder and follows the girl with a grin, still floating on the cloud of the newly discovered gift, mind racing with the possibilities of it.
Norris lets himself be tugged, of course. It takes him a little imagining on something nice to wear. Getting done up like da Vinci's student, he feels, would be a little too much frippery. But a little water and some assistance from his friends, and he remodels his plain tunic and breeches into something slightly more ornate. He keeps the brass buckle that is marked with his personal sigil, the branching oak tree. His tunic is now openfaced, and far more colorful, with some lovely red and brown earth-tones, soft fabric with some sheen to it. His breeches made of a similarly comfortable material. And some comfortable high-topped boots instead of his normal work shoes.
Mikal simply slips into priestess-wear -- it's not as dramatic as Inana's outfit, but still formal enough to meet a powerful spirit, she hopes.
Mikal takes a deep breath once they're all done -- even Raphael gets a quick brushing, which leaves him initially shocked and then hedonistically sprawled for more attention -- and smiles at her pack, "We ready? Let's head towards Ravana Lord's tent slowly, to give his people time to find us."
Norris smirks at Raphael's response to the brushing. "That the real reason you done decided to be Inanna's half brother, aint it." he comments to the wolf.
Jareth is careful about washing up and leaves his hair loose, letting it fall around his shoulders rather than pulling it back into its normal, careless ponytail. For a moment, he comes very close to wearing the flowing dress he has seen on himself as Lilith, but then he changes his mind. The trousers are loose-fitting silk of vibrant blue that matches his eyes and the short tunic is a lighter blue, embroidered and embellished with tiny beads of glistening jet and amber. Over that, he wears a sort of sleeveless open-fronted robe of red and black and yellow. The colors could easily clash, but they somehow do not. His feet are bare
Raphael glances at Norris, and for a moment his eyes are very, very old and tired... and then the raptor wolf rolls easily to his feet and bumps companionably against Mikal, his tongue lolling out.
Norris stares into those eyes, and suddenly feels guilty for making a joke. "Ahm sorreh Raph. Didna mean to make light."
The big raptor wolf tilts his head for a moment... then pads silently over and bumps gently against Norris too. After that he heads out the door, his raptor-like balancing tail waving slightly as he goes.
Jareth follows after the others, reaching for Mikal's hand again and pressing another kiss to her knuckles.
Mikal blushes faintly as she smiles up at Jareth, walking out relaxedly with him. She deliberately paces slowly, not sure how much time Ravana will want alone with the Ulurite.
The day has become slightly overcast, with layers of clouds here and there, and light streaming through them in patches. At first there is no sight of the arrivals; the trails to the mountain redoubt appear empty. But of course, to travel all the way from Uluru at any speed would require something faster than walking. And so from the clouds descends the long, sweeping hull of an airship, square reed sails fluttering as they catch the wind. Though at first glance crude, there are bright splashes of handpainted color upon it, in patterns both elegantly simple and vaguely esoteric, and the narrow craft is sturdy and capable.
At the prow of the airship, in a somewhat dramatic pose, stands a sceptre, one foot upon the stem, standing straight and tall. His skin is dark and his hair black in tight curls, windswept back, and a cloak of some hair or linen is draped over one shoulder. A neat and clean skirt of reed and linen is about his waist, and he is barefoot. He is not the only person on the airship, as can clearly be seen, but he could only be Tawhaki of Uluru.
Norris is only a little comforted. He has to wonder what it's like for the trickster, what he was like before. How this has got to be difficult for him, too. Loki's situation is as different as his is from Innana's, or Lilith's. He only knows the stories - maybe the old god is as lonely for the Aesir, even if they didn't get along so good. "Hey, looking good, Cat." he rumbles, relieved from his own thoughts as he notices the man's lush outfit.
Mikal stands still, turning her face up to watch the approaching ship. She smiles at sight of the sceptre, absently tucking a stray wisp of hair behind one ear in the rising wind. Hm... a sky ship... that'd be a swift way to travel. She wonders if Jareth knows how to contact the ship captain who so liked him -- the one with the lovely soft alpacas.
Jareth puts a hand over his chest, beaming at the majesty of the sight.
Norris studies the ship for a while...marvelous craftsmanship. He wonders if one of his lives was ever a shipwright. And then he takes stock of the sceptre, looking stately and broad shouldered and impressive. "He certainly do look impressive. Wonder what sorta fella he is."
Mikal murmurs quietly to her companions, "Do any of you know anything of this Tawhaki?"
Jareth thinks it over and has to shake his head slowly, "Not much, no."
Raphael shakes his head once as well.
Mikal nods quietly, turning slowly so she can continue to watch as the ship sails slowly overhead to the docking area, her gaze still following it. "Well, hopefully we'll find out more soon, and he'll be friendly." She sounds faintly distracted -- the sky ships are quite dramatic!
Norris un-uhs. "Know a little about Uluru, was a big ol' rock formation down Australia-way. Sacred to the aboriginal tribes of the area. Names I caint pronounce off the top of my head. Figger this fella's gotta be sommat related to that."
Jareth nods and watches Mikal's face as she watches the ship, smiling a little.
Mikal shakes her head slowly, still watching, "Not according to Ravana Lord. He said Uluru was riddled with caves and tunnels and became a place of refuge for those who had no place else to go... but that it's also a bit dangerous. There's apparently at least one tunnel that drops all the way to the Nether..." She wonders a bit that none of the rakshasa have been sent to guide them to Ravana's tent -- or to someplace else to wait while Ravana greets and welcomes Tawhaki.
The skyship circles once, as a raksasha apparently skilled in this art uses a pair of iron-shafted torches to signal how the vessel should approach. The skyship comes down, neatly coming about to lay-to off a platform which may have once actually served skyships. Almost as soon as the gangplank has been lowered, Tawhaki is on the platform, being greeted by Ravanna and Vhibishana.
Along with Tawhaki, disembarking from the airship are six aethyrs, but ones unlike any they have seen before. Though their bodies are human, and simply seem to be wearing masks and costume, they are clearly not mortal, and the masks and decoration lend them both a very earthy and yet very unearthly appearance and air.
"Those would be the kachinas," a voice nearby comments to them. It is Beatrice, the dream-serpent, apparently fresh from her feast considering the crisp scent of citrus on her breath. "I have not seen them outside of Uluru since the Godswar.""
After the initial greeting, Vhibishana looks around, brightening as he catches sight of the mortals. With a gesture, he and Ravana walk down from the platform with Tuwhaki and towards them.
Mikal's eyes widen at Beatrice's words, and she absently raises a hand to stroke the end of the dream-serpent's long nose, murmuring, "Thank you, Beatrice, for that information. Do you know anything of Tawhaki?"
Jareth smiles at Beatrice and then turns to look at the kachinas, examining the fantastical masks.
Mikal stands straight and proud with her packmates and the dream-serpent, even though she's tiny next to them.
Norris grins at the giant serpent, one of the few creatures that can make him feel small. He raises a hand in greeting when Vhibishana hails them, but waits for entorage to come to them as he perks an ear, curious what the dream-serpent knows.
Jareth is still holding Mikal's hand and is beaming brightly as they wait for the brothers and their guests.
Beatrice seems to like that, as she rubs her snout a little on Mikal's hand. "Mmm. He is a demigod who has every right to be proud, and yet he is not. Much was taken away from him that he had to win back by hard work, and he has often hunted the tulpas on the borders of the Deep Wyld. It keeps him on the move and out of general sight, and he seems to prefer it that way. Even so, many around Uluru give thanks to him." She lowers her voice. "This may not need be said, but the time will come to prove yourselves worthy of mutual respect for each other -- and he knows he must earn it from you, and he will look forward to that challenge. In the meantime, he has little patience for grandiose words and empty praise, at least as much as I suspect you to."
Mikal turns her fascinated gaze from the approaching party and nods gravely to Beatrice, "Yes. Thank you. After this meeting is over, I would like to talk to you, please, to find out if there anything we can do to be helpful to you."
Norris looks wry. "We really at that point yet? Where we done deserve respect from demigods?" He glances at Mikal and smiles. "Well, Mikal, mebbe, when she done stuck a nasty thorn in Uriel's paw."
Mikal smiles faintly up at Norris, then turns her gaze back on the approaching entities. She doesn't know where the information comes from, but she murmurs softly half under her breath, "Oh, good... no Koshari. He's dangerous." Equally softly she adds, "I wonder if those are really costumes..."
Norris huhwhats? "Koshari?"
Mikal frowns slightly, "He... I think he's one of the kachinas. There are more than just these six." She hesitates, then adds in quiet pain, "Or at least I think there were. I don't know now. He was their disciplinarian trickster, I think?" She adds sadly, "That's all I know of them, though. He had an outfit with black and white stripes, like a prisoner." She hesitates again, then adds, "Not -- not sure what culture, though."
Norris huhs. "Makes sense why they'd parley with rakshasa, then. They're of a type."
Shortly, then, the party has arrived at the mortals, Beatrice has slunk stealthily into the background where she is most comfortable. Tuwhaki seems not to have heard the conversation, or if he has he gives no sign of it. Ravanna introduces them. "And these four... are the mortals who helped us -- no, who were critical in helping us to weather the angelic attack of which you heard, and who drove off Uriel." He introduces their names in turn, and Tuwhaki salutes each one in turn. He is surprisingly, up close, not at all much taller than they are; the silent kachinas are taller, it seems, not counting their headdresses.
"I am honored to meet you," he says, smiling and his black eyes matching the expression. He exudes warmth, apparently almost as fond of mortals as Amaros is. "To face the Hosts of Zion, is not a thing many mortals will do. Yet from all accounts, you did so proudly. May you be an inspiration to all of us here, and to those beyond the slopes of this mountain."
Mikal crosses her arms over her chest and bows politely as she's introduced, and rests a hand on Raphael's heavy mane when she straightens. She smiles back up at the taller man, "It is an honor to meet you and your companions as well, Tawhaki of Uluru."
Norris hems, and jsut gives a respectful nod to the proud warrior, feeling self-conscious and tongue-tied, and not at all up to responding to that kind of honorable conversation. Not when he's got a couple companions capable of far greater speaking weight and smoothness.
Tuwhaki's smile softens a bit. "I thank you. But I am here because of what you have done. The Host has been bloodied, and more still fall in their retreat, falling prey in their long journey back to Zion." His voice drops a little. "I admit to taking little joy to seeing their bodies strewn upon the landscape in the wake of their retreat. But it cannot be denied that the blow you struck will awaken and embolden others. We may be seeing the last Dawns of the Architect's dominance over the Dreamtime."
Mikal says, "I certainly hope so." She smiles up at Ravana, adding, "I hear there are even deserters! I would like to aid those however we can, and continue harrying the rest of the Host."
Jareth remembers, through his elation, something that Janiel told them, "You may wish to send scouts to Babylon... Uriel may have set something horrible in motion there."
Ravana nods, "Yes, we have passed on the word, and it is spreading through Vhibishana's spies: Angelic deserters will be given aid and safe passage. If they turn away from El Amon Re, then they will have nothing to fear from El Amon Re's enemies."
Tuwhaki nods to Mikal. "The kachinas will... try to do as you suggest." He hesitates a moment. "Their memories are long, but I will impress upon them the importance of allowing deserters to live."
Norris huhs at Tuwhaki's assessment. He doesn't contradict the man, but he does feel surprised at that optimistic assertion. From what it had seemed before, the Rakshasa were the last bulwark of organized and beliggerent resistance against the Architect. Could this one battle have made all the difference? Especially after the bloody Godswar, in which so many other warriors from so many other pantheons had fallen? Why? What has changed? Did their success and bloodying of Uriel's nose make that much of an impact? or is it more that El-Amon's forces were far more depleted after the Godswar, and one battle could make that much of a differences in both manpower and morale...
Mikal shakes her head to Jareth, whispering quietly, "Uriel said do that only if they didn't come back. Some of them will."
Tuwhaki tilts his head to the side a bit. "I don't know of anyone at Uluru who has agents in Babylon -- it is a little too close to the Architect's bastion -- but we have contacts we may be able to have reach there." He thinks for a moment, then shakes his head. "But it will take a long time, I fear."
Mikal wonders silently at Tawhaki's assessment of the kachinas, studying them curiously. Something in her nudges her -- isn't meeting their gaze disrespectful? She's not sure, so she visually examines them without staring into their eyes. Well... what she can see that look like eyes, at least. They're quite... alien, in some ways.
It is while they are talking with Tuwhaki that, at separate moments, the mortals realize that the kachinas are more or less perfectly silent. They also do not make the little fidgeting moves that a person at rest might, they do not look around, or clasp and unclasp their hands... they do not even seem to breathe, at least as any of the mortals can see or hear. Somewhat unsettling.
Norris looks at his friends. "There is, I wonder, no easy way to get there...no gate or passage or magic that could allow anyone to slip in there easily, let alone us...it sounded to us like something of grave import." he brings up, more as a general query to all that are present. "We were wondering, before, why is it that it sits so close to the Architect's bastion, and yet it is not his? Do you know, Tuwhaki, why that is?"
Mikal is silently certain, watching the kachina, that those are definitely not costumes. She murmurs softly to Raphael, [What do the kachina smell like, big brother? I think they're really the shapes we see -- that's not costumes on them.]
Tuwhaki nods, folding his arms. "There are a few reasons, Bear -- if I may call you by your name? Babylon exists on the slopes of Mount Zion because that is where the earliest complete canon of the Architect's dogma began."
Vhibishana nods. "The Babylonian Talmud."
Tuwhaki nods to the raksasha. "Yes. It exists there because it must exist there.
"It has not been conquered because even as it is the source of the Architect's monotheistic dogma, or at least the epicenter of it, it has a history and affiliations beyond even that. To some mortals Babylon became synonymous with licentiousness and hedonism, and to other mortals it was the heart of ancient religions who worshipped gods whom El Amon Re usurped, and to still others it is simply identified with things inherently against the teachings of the Architect. And so, he cannot ever completely raze Babylon, as much as he would want to: Mortal thought would simply raise it up again, simply because there must be a Babylon."
Vhibishana adds, "It also helps, that there are a number of strong mortals who reside in Babylon, and have made it quietly clear that they wish to defend it and keep it secure. For the time being, the Architect has ignored their words but neither has he attempted to put Babylon to the sword."
Raphael discretely sniffs the air; but he's been a little spooked by the kachinas ever since they got close. Not scared, he doesn't believe they pose a threat to them... but they are different. Ancient. [Do you remember the oldest of stories of the Fair Folk, little sister? The Kindly Ones? The Loas? The fey who were... somehow alien? They are not tricksters as Lokei once was. That is what I sense from them. And I do not doubt that there are others of their kind in Uluru.]
Mikal frowns thoughtfully, replying in kind, [The Kindly Ones were what was left after Apollo unjustly defanged the Erinyes, the Furies, big brother. I do not think they were fey?] She's silent a moment, considering, then adds quietly, [No, I think I understand. They are... I don't know how to say it. Drawn to, and then re-crafted slightly by the mortals' belief?] She adds slowly, [No wonder Tawhaki is unsure as to whether he can communicate effectively with them.]
Jareth wraps his arms around himself as Babylon is explained. He's still smiling, but not quite as much. He's nodding at the description of the strange city, though he only has Lilith's hazy memories of it.
Mikal leans slightly against Jareth, putting an arm about his waist and trying to be warm and comfortingly close. She worries for him.
Norris is captured and fascinated by Tuwhaki's explanation of the significance of Babylon. "If it is, in fact, a symbol of the power of the Architect, even in that it is the anathema to what he represents, it does seem very interesting that there might be something there that his angels would put the place to siege to aquire. Perhaps it is something of the Architect's hisself, or something that these worthies hold from him..." Or, alternately, some great weapon that even the Architect fears, but would use if there was no other choice, which would certainly be of circumstance if Uriel had perished in the onslaught on the rakshasa redoubt. Of course, at the time this was going on, no one knew of the four of them so it is, at the very least, nothing specifically tailored against the Pack.
Jareth nuzzles Mikal's hair almost instinctively and unwraps his arms to put one around her shoulders.
Norris looks at his friends. "This feels like a place I would be very interested to visit, even considering the danger involved."
Mikal smiles quietly up at Jareth, then glances at Norris, "Well, we should gather our power first, and let those who can harry the Host on its way back, don't you think?"
Mikal looks back at Tawhaki then, still smiling, "How can we help you, please?"
Norris nods. "No, I entirely agree...but I admit to a strong curiosity, is all." he drawls abashedly,
Raphael replies, [I am not certian, little sister. But you may be, in a disturbing sense, correct. It is like mortal thought gave masks to something incredibly primal and ancient.]
Mikal nods silently to Raphael, her expression rueful. She adds silently, [It is very odd, though, to realize parts of me are even more ancient than they. What does that say about me, about what and who I am?] She sighs quietly, her gaze thoughtful, [We can talk about this later -- it's fascinating. But now we need to focus.]
Raphael glances up at Mikal, and then gently leans against her. Tuwhaki seems to pick up on some message here, and he smiles quietly. "Lord Ravana has told me that there will be dinner tonight. If it is not an imposition upon him, I would eagerly listen to what stories you have of your travels during it."
Norris glances at Mikal. "Yuh, we definitely got some stories t' tell, annat." he grins. "It's been an inneresting time."
Mikal smiles and nods at that.
Jareth can't help but perk up a bit at the mention of stories, "And I have something that Ravana and his brother need to hear..."
Mikal grins up at Jareth a bit proudly.
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