| Logs |
2008 October 28
| When The Bough Breaks |
| Realms |
Retired
| Reality Fault |
General Info
 |
| Realms: Bough Logs |
First Movement, First Solo
The stag pads cautiously but quite proudly now to the lodge, being careful not to toss his head too much with the young mortal upon his back. Several foresters are watching the approach, including Delling, and all are visibly impressed and approving.
Mikal beams and waves, calling forward to them, "Hello! Can we get a nice warm hat for Norris? Do you have any extras, by any chance?"
Mikal realizes with a touch of surprise that she got Raphael's name immediately -- but she doesn't have anything yet for the fey-stag! She murmurs quietly to the stag, patting one shoulder, "What's your name, handsome?"
Delling raises his hand in greeting. "Certainly! We can give him a hat, sure." He smiles to the fey-stag. "Well! When I showed you the tracks and spoor I didn't expect you to find one and befriend it! Wonderfully done, Mikal, only the best rangers have ever done so! You've a talent for this sort of thing, it seems."
The fey-stag doesn't himself have a name, it seems. Some of his herd have sometimes commented on how well his rack has withstood the test of time and fights, so he tends to be called 'Iron-antlers' or similar.
Mikal brightens at Delling's comment, "R-really? Oh, th-thank you!" She shyly adds, "He, um, I think his name is something like Iron Antlers? B-but he's n-not... well... I mean, why do you all call his species a fey stag? He hasn't tried to chat much with me, after all? I mean, n-not like Raphael or N-norris or anyone, you know?"
Delling considers. "He's a creature of dream, yes, but the fey-stags aren't aethyrs. Or mortals. At that, though, they're smarter than 'normal' animals." He blinks. "And you learned his name? That's... Mikal, that's very impressive, even for a mortal. Usually the stag-riders spend scores of days trying to commune with stags."
Mikal starts to hunch her shoulders a touch nervously -- she's not used to being stared at by a bunch of folks, without it being a bad thing! "Umm... s-so he's an im-m-mortal? I, um, I'm not sure I got his name absolutely right, though -- I'm sorry!"
Delling smiles, starting to reach up to touch Iron-antler's mane, but he holds back a moment. "May I touch him? And yes, he's effectively immortal, just not an aethyr. Still, he's a handsome one! And apaprently trusts you enough!"
Mikal says, "Um, I -- I d-don't know?" She whispers to the fey-stag, "Is it all right if Delling touches you, Iron Antlers?"
Iron-antler tosses his head a little, eyeing the elf a little dubiously. Then he lets Mikal know he'll deign the elf to touch him. Proud? Him?
Mikal smiles faintly, gently scritching the stag's withers as she says to the aelf, "He says he'll let you t-touch him, D-delling." Curiously, the stag's confidence is rather calming to her; she can be gone in a flash now, she knows, if she wishes to escape something.
Delling smiles to Mikal, and looks to the stag. "Thank you, Iron-antlers." He reaches up to gently touch the stag's man, looking a little dreamy. "Ah," he says quietly. "I've tracked them many times, but I've never actually gotten this close to one!"
Mikal adds consideringly, "I... I think he likes oats, Delling."
Delling ohs! and nods, beaming. "Give me a moment, then. We keep a supply on hand." He goes inside to retrieve the oats.
Mikal grins, whispering to the stag to follow the nice elf -- Delling's going to get some oats for Iron Antlers!
Delling heads into the lodge, then turns, blinking, as he hears the stag's heavy hooved steps on the wood of the lodge. He considers for a moment, then grins, "Well, that's not something we see every day here," he comments, then gestures. "Over in the tavern is where we keep the food, I believe.
Mikal nods, quietly passing that information on to the stag as well. She looks over her shoulder, checking -- how's Raphael doing? He just ate, right? He's not hungry again yet?
Raphael had eaten not long ago so he's not hungry' he's still keeping his distance from the stag even as Iron-antlers steps gracefully and regally into the tavern. The other foresters there who had not yet seen Mikal and the stag are quite surprised and openly curiously watching. There seems to be more foresters present than there were a few hours ago.
Mikal blinks at the number of foresters there -- did time slip past her or something? She hadn't realized it had gotten so late. She pulls up her hood and hunches her shoulders a bit again, waving once a bit nervously, "Um... hi..." After that, unless someone comes up to her, she just keeps her gaze fixed on the midpoint of Iron Antler's head, between the huge, spreading rack, and rides where the fey-stag wishes to go.
Delling gathers the oats and a large bowl on a stand which seems fitted for stags, and carefully sets it up for Iron-antlers. "Why so shy, Mikal?" he asks cheerfully. "Being a stag-rider can be quite exhilerating, I understand! I've only seen a squadron of them once, and it was quite breathtaking."
Mikal says, "A sk-squadron?!" She swallows, flushing with embarrassment at the way her voice squeaked just there, and adds sheepishly, "I d-d-don't know what it's like really yet, um... w-we came b-back in case our friends had woken up again already, y-y-you know?"
Delling smiles, and nods, "They're among the elite of the Courts. Ah, you're friends. They will be back -- they always are -- their waking selves are probably just being restless in their sleep."
Mikal nods slowly, her fingers running through Iron Antler's mane in an absent (and curiously self-reassuring) caress, "A-all right... um... Iron Antlers will be here if I wake up, r-right? I mean, the poor guy won't be dragged away to a strange place that's not right for him, will he?"
Mikal adds slowly, "And... if he's an immortal, I shouldn't take him into the nether-storm, right? I... I d-don't want him to be hurt...?"
Delling considers. "Well, I don't know if he'll stay with you, he might wander off if he's not stabled, and getting a fey-stag to want to be stabled takes some time. But he won't disappear if you rouse in your sleep.
"As for the nethersquall... no, unfortnately, they avoid nethersqualls, as well, and can get hurt in them. Only mortals can walk into a nethersquall as if it wasn't there.
Mikal nods quietly, her shoulders slumping a little, "A-all right... I'll let him go once we're all aw-w-wake again." She sighs softly, stroking the shaggy mane as she shyly confides, "I-I'd hoped we could stay together, like a team or something, b-but I d-don't want him to have to stay in a stable -- I don't like indoors either, after all -- and I d-d-don't want him hurt because of me."
Delling smiles and nods. "For what it's worth, fey-stags have long memories. If you come back and look for him, I think he'll be just as pleased to see you. After all, I do believe he's already scarfed down all the oats...."
Mikal brightens a bit, "Y-you think so? That'd be so nice..." She lays down on the stag's back, wrapping her arms about the powerful neck as far as she can reach, and laying her cheek against the thick mane, "He feels nice. Not as close as Raphael, my half-brother, but... still very nice, you know?"
Delling nods, still smiling. "Not having ridden a stag -- or been this close to one! -- I can only agree."
Mikal murmurs from where she's lying, her fingers scritching relaxedly through the stag's heavy mane, "So... what does the squadron do?"
Delling makes a quiet sound. "They're cavalry for when we have to march out into the Wyrd. They also are messengers and scouts. Usualy the first word we have when something goes wrong is when a stag-rider comes galloping into the Plaza of Songs."
Mikal says, "You keep all your stag riders in the Wyrd, then?"
"Oh, no. They all remain on this side of the wall when they're not on missions."
Mikal realizes Iron Antlers has finished eating, so she slides off his back and scouts around for some brushes or hoofpicks she can borrow, to help her new friend feel nice.
Mikal glances back at Delling curiously, "Where are they all then?"
Mikal considers, then adds bemusedly, "How many are in a squadron?"
"There's a stable -- a nice large and comfortable one -- and their runnign-grounds behind the Artisan's Guild. And there are twelve in a squadron. Last I heard there were only three squadrons. Of them only one was fitted for heavy barding.
Delling beams, "Oh, of course. We get stag riders here fairly often, so we keep some. Just... not to brush him in the tavern, please?"
Mikal brightens, nearly pouncing on the old dandy brush she finds, then turning triumphantly back to Iron Antlers, "Let's go outside, handsome, and I'll give you a nice, thorough brushing, all right?" As the tiny girl walks outside with the huge stag, she smiles over her shoulder at Delling, "That's a lot of people and stags! How do you feed them all on this tiny plot of land?"
Delling follows her out. "It's not really that tiny. Plus there are other little plots along the wall, widdershins towards the Autumn Grove, where we raise oats and other grains."
Mikal considers what she knows about animals, then hesitantly adds, "But... all the deer? I mean... how many stags is that? Th-they're not ordinarily the types to sh-share territory or herds, y-y-you know?" She hopes Delling's not annoyed with her for effectively disagreeing with him, but she's quite confused as to how there can be about 40 or 50 stags in so little space. "U-unless m-maybe some of them are d-d-doe riders?"
"Well, there's only a small herd here in this forest. The larger herds are out in the Wyrd. And I suppose I should have said stag-and-doe riders. Interestingly, the does generally prefer male riders, and the stags female ones. But there are plenty of exceptions. Besides... it works out, and sometimes that's just how it is in the Dreamtime."
Mikal looks relieved, "Oh, all right!" As she puts her back into currying Iron Antlers' thick fur, trying to work out the dust and dirt and dead hair, she happily adds, "That makes sense!" Brushing the huge stag is amazingly satisfying -- a bit like helping Raphael with his coat, in fact. She beams, humming contentedly to herself as she scrubs through the mats while the big stag grazes. At Raphael's amused snort she grins at him, "You're next, you know! If we're going into the Wyrd, I want everyone all nice and clean!" Raphael gives her another amused snort, and she blinks, "Uh... I don't know, actually!" She looks at Delling, still grooming, "Are there places for just normal mortals to clean up here too?"
"Oh, you mean like baths? Sure there are. We've a bath here in the lodge. There are some larger and more well-apportioned ones in the Plaza. Some private, most not-so-private. It's sometimes a communal thing.
Mikal blinks at that thought, then hastily adds, "I, uh, that's all right, I w-won't get in the way there!"
Delling smiles easilly. "It's fine. Some mortals prefer it, some don't.
Mikal nods in quiet relief that she won't have to be quite so... exposed! She doesn't know any of these people that well, and the thought of being naked in front of them all (even if they're all naked too)... well, it makes her toes curl! -in a very uncomfortable way. She continues briskly grooming the contented and lazily grazing stag.
After a while she whispers nervously, "S-so, Delling... um... have you ever seen a sp-p-pider wasp... killed?"
Delling makes a quiet sound. "No, I never have. Not directly anyway. I was with a followup group that visited a dreamscape which had been attacked by a spider-wasp, though, and the spider-wasp was killed earlier. They were recovering.
Mikal gives Delling a worried glance, "D-d-did they get better?"
Delling says, "Oh, yes. They're getting better. I mean, without the spiderwasp to keep injecting venom, they're doing fine."
Mikal nods slowly, considering that. She finishes currying and searches for a dandy brush, then starts using it with short, brisk strokes to whisk off all the dead hair and dirt she'd worked loose before. As she does so she softly adds, "That... that's not the real problem though, is it? Th-there shouldn't be separate dreamscapes when everything is fine, right? It should all be one p-place?"
Delling is quiet for a moment. "Ideally?" he asks quietly. "No. There shouldn't be separate dreamscapes. There should be one dreamscape, one Waking world."
Mikal sighs unhappily, considering that unpleasant news as she finishes brushing Iron Antlers as clean as she can. Once she's done she pulls her short utility knife and (with a bit of explanation to the fey-stag) she picks up his feet, one cloven hoof at a time, to pick clean. When she's done she whews softly, leaning against his shoulder and catching her breath... then she says to Delling, "All right. So is this the one dreamscape where everything should be, and the one waking world is that way, past the mirror?" She points in the general direction of the Mirror as she speaks.
Delling thinks. "Pretty much. Ideally, there shouldn't be barriers like the 'obsidian stone' you saw around your dreamscape."
Mikal gives Delling a puzzled look as she's moving towards Raphael, brushes in hand, "Obsidian barriers? What do you mean?"
"Do you remember when you first got out of your dreamscape? It was like this big, giant wall of black stone?"
Mikal shakes her head slowly, her expression confused, "I... no?" She looks at Raphael puzzledly, "Did you see that, Raph?"
Delling mms quietly. "Well. You'll probably look out into the Mirror again at some point, and see the dreamscapes. To us here in the Dreamtime, they look like they're encased in these big spheres of black stone. They shouldn't be that way."
Mikal blinks startledly, straightening from where she'd knelt next to the reclining Raphael to brush him, "See them?! Wait, I thought the mirror was just... just sort of silvery gray? Are you saying it changes?"
"No, I mean, the dreamscapes appear that way. They float above the Mirror."
Mikal says, "Above...?!" She looks utterly confused, "Wait, I... are we below the mirror then?" A bit plaintively she adds, "W-w-why does nothing make sense here?!"
Delling thinks for a moment, then beams. "Ah. I have an idea. Come on inside, there's a picture somewhere in the Lodge. Oh, and Iron-Antlers can come too!"
Mikal blinks again, considering that carefully... then slowly gets to her feet. Almost warily she says, "Um, a-all right..." She keeps one hand buried in the big fey-stag's mane, the other reassuringly closed in Raphael's; having her friends close at her side helps her feel more solid and real in this incredibly fantastical and confusing place.
Inside the lodge, in one of the classrooms, Delling is searching through one of the piles of tomes. "Where, where, where wh-- Ah! Here we go....
Delling sets the large book on the table, opening it up to a particular page. The two-page spread is gorgeous, in rich colors that don't seem to have faded with any age at all. As Delling explains, in the center of the page is a large, circular surface; that, he says, is the Mirror. Above the mirror, floating in the Dreamtime, are the many dreamscapes of the worlds; below the mirror, is the Waking, where all the worlds are. Surrounding the Mirror on the Dreamtime=side is the wall, and at four points of the wall are the fey enclaves: the Spring, Summer, Autumn, and Winter Palaces. And outside the wall is the Wyrd.
"So the Mirror is called the way it is," he says, "because it reflects the Waking into the Dreamtime, and the Dreamtime into the Waking."
Mikal studies the picture book with interest, then curiously asks, "So what's the -- the weird place? Does it surround the waking as well as the dreaming places?"
Delling starts to answer, then pauses, blinking. "You know... I honestly don't know. I've never even thought about that until now."
Mikal reaches out with a grubby but cautious finger towards the brilliant artwork -- then realizes how dirty her hands are after grooming. She sheepishly tucks her hands behind her, carefully not touching anything. She smiles shyly up at Delling, oddly relieved to not be the only person who doesn't get everything here.
Mikal adds after a moment, "So we're above the mirror? How do you know that? Couldn't we be below it too, but just not realize it?"
Mikal says, "And... how do we get all the dreamscapes back into one? Do they have to be crashed together or something? Or..." she frowns at a revolting thought, but the naturalist in her makes her verbalize it, "-is it that the spider-wasps are part of the natural order, sort of, and they're getting rid of the -- the extra young spawned that wouldn't survive anyways since there's not enough food?""
He smiles. "We could be, but it's just easier for us aethyrs to view it this way." At her further questions, he grows a bit sober. "Well, what happened to the world wasn't anything natural. After the Godswar, the Architect got angry, and he split the one world up into many little worlds. He wanted time to think over what the next step in 'mortal development' would be." He sounds unhappy and a little sarcastic at the Architect's decisions. "But while he's been thinking... that's when the spider-wasps came.
"So don't worry, Mikal. The spider-wasps are doing what they're doing out of instinct, but that doesn't mean that they're supposed to be doing this to us."
Mikal looks a bit relieved at that, giving a gusty sigh. She studies the drawing for a bit more, then adds softly, "So... so things are just as jumbled up on the other side of the mirror then? They're all split into bunches of, um, lots of different worlds too?"
Mikal looks worried, "Are there spider wasps on their side of the mirror too? How do we know all this? Can aethyrs go to the other side or something?"
Mikal gives Delling a startled look, "You're an aethyr? I thought you were one of the aelfar?"
"Yes, the Architect didn't just split off the mortals' dreamscape. He split mortals up and put them on countless different worlds. Well, the big spider-wasps that you saw is their reflection in the Dreamtime. They exist, physically, in the waking, but their reflections are what we see in the Dreamtime. But even though those are only reflections, we can still harm them and kill them from here."
He smiles shyly. "Yes, I'm considered an aethyr. But there are a lot of different types of aethyrs. The aelfar are a type of aethyr but we're not as powerful as some others. And I daresay that mortals are, overall, more powerful than us."
Mikal shudders at the thought of the spider wasps in the other realm, feeling some pity for the poor mortals who are stuck with that reality -- then she blinks up at Delling, "Us? More powerful? How can that be? All the legends are about how astonishing your folk all are!"
Delling smiles quietly. "Well. Truth be told, aelfar were a bit more powerful before the Godswar. And there was a time, long before then, when we could cross the Mirror into the Waking. But... we can't, anymore."
Mikal's voice is frankly dubious, "Why would you want to, if there are real spider wasps there?"
"There weren't always spider-wasps, Mikal. Long ago, once upon a time, we could go to the mortals, interact with them. Sometimes, just sometimes, we could make things... interesting, for them, when their lives had become bland and grey. The ljosalfar tried to inspire, to instill feelings of hope and triumph and the urge to go that one little step further. The dokkalfar also tried to inspire: inspire caution, healthy fear, that there were things they couldn't see, the wariness to be careful of where that step went. Both of us tried to open peoples' eyes that there were wider vistas before them, things just beyond their sight...."
Delling smiles quietly to Mikal. "Well. We tried, anyway. Sometimes we succeeded, sometimes we didn't. We were doing what we were meant to. After the Godswar, though, and the coming of the spider-wasps... well, the old enmities, our old work, didn't seem to matter as much as trying to help save the worlds. The dokkalfar proposed a 'truce' and the ljosalfar agreed, and here we are, today."
Mikal sounds surprised, "You were fighting? Why?"
"Well, there was never a lot of... friendliness... between the dokkalfar and the ljosalfar. We used to be separated in two separate courts -- the Seelie and the Unseelie, you might have heard of them. We both thought that the other viewed mortals as just a means to an end, as just something to exert our will upon. And we never believed the other when they tried to protest their innocence. THings changed with the Godswar, and suddenly we realized that we couldn't just keep bickering like we had been."
Mikal grins teasingly up at Delling, "So... were we? Mortals, I mean -- were we a means to your ends? And what were your ends?"
Delling laughs quietly. "No, you weren't, I promise! Some aelfar... they took to their interactions with mortals a bit more seriously than others. Some dokkalfar were very terrifying, and some ljosalfar.. well, they weren't exactly easy to get along with, either. But it worked out, mostly.
"You see, Mikal, mortals are special in a lot of ways, and not only because you can withstand nether-energies in the Dreamtime, and dream things into being and just 'make things happen' here. Mortals are infinitely creative, and every so often, say about once a day -- all that creative energy just wells up so much in the Waking that it bursts through the Mirror and washes across the dreamtime, like a vast wave of... of energy. Even mortals who are dreaming have these reserves of this energy. This energy is called awen. It's what keeps the Dreamtime alive and vibrant.
"I guess a person could say that it's in aethyrs' 'enlightened self-interest' to make sure mortals survive the spider-wasps. But I for one am fond of mortals. I like you, you're interesting and you're curious and you do the most amazing things like... like befriend a fey-stag the first day you're in the Winter Palace!"
Mikal looks interestedly perplexed at the concept of 'awen' -- but she blushes and ducks her head when she realizes she personally is being complimented! "Th-thanks...? I, um, didn't know it w-was amazing when I d-d-did it?" She studies her hands for a moment, twisting her fingers together a bit nervously, then adds in a rush, "S-so so what's th-this awen thingie? Have we -- has it happened yet while we were here? I, I hadn't felt anything yet?"
He smiles quietly at the change of subject. "Not yet, no. I don't know exactly when it's supposed to happen, but the clocktower on the castle is set to the awen tides." He considers for a moment, then pulls a small, copper coin from his pocket. It is circular, about a thumbnail's width in size, and has a triangular opening in the center of it. Set into the triangle is what looks like a small grain of sand, but which is a swirling, faintly luminescent blue and red in hue. "That little grain of sand?" he says, holding out the coin so she can see. "That's 'formed' awen. After an awen tide, sometimes you can find these grains here and there; if you take them to the treasury, they'll put a coin around them; it's usually easier to carry and count that way!"
Mikal blinks curiously at the coin, reaching out for it, "Wh-what do the grains do? They must be special...?" She adds bemusedly, "How do you spot them? They're so tiny!"
Delling nods, "They're very special. They're like a little piece of awen, and you can use it for all sorts of things. They're so useful they're used as currency. And they're a little uncommon, and hard to find, which is why they're used as money.
Mikal studies the tiny grain intently, turning the coin back and forth so she can see it better. She touches it with a cautious fingertip, wondering how it stays in the little triangle, as she asks, "So what do they do?" Touching the awen grain makes it flicker and shimmer a little, a soft, barely-heard tone being heard.
Mikal ooohs softly, then grins shyly as she hands it back, "Does it let you do stuff like you say mortals do here all the time?"
Delling smiles, accepting the coin. "Not really. But it does let us do some things. Magic things, like weapons and armor and the like, will disappear without being infused with awen. The little glitters of green light on the wall, and the glitter in the gypsum walls of the castle -- all those little sparkles are awen grains, which have been 'fixed' to them and make them permanent.
Mikal blinks startledly, then hastily reaches for her bow to reassure herself it's still there! She sighs in relief at feeling it, then puzzledly asks Delling, "So... everything here vanishes if it's not fixed with awen?"
Delling laughs softly. "Anything you brought with you has a touch of awen in it so it won't disappear at the turn of the day. But yes, if you dream something into being, it'll normally disappear at turning."
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