| Logs |
2009 April 23
| When The Bough Breaks |
| Realms |
Retired
| Reality Fault |
General Info
 |
| Realms: Bough Logs |
Third Movement, First Solo
Mikal has a few minutes of free-thought time to herself, finding herself perched on a log in a deep forest. It seems to be one of the further areas of the Winter Palace, perhaps deosil from it, since there's a touch of greenery here and there as if spring is just about to burst from the snow. Raphael is amusing himself by terrorizing the local fauna.
Mikal grins in quiet affection, watching from where she's neatly and warmly curled up -- arms about her knees and well wrapped in her nice, new, decorated and quilted jacket. Idly she murmurs, "Bow, do you have a name?"
The bow replies [tt]"The world was too young for me to have a proper name when I was made. In later times I became known as the Bow of Utnapishtim, for it has been said that that one bore me for a time."[/tt]
Mikal considers that for a bit. The odd factoid comes to her mind: she can't call it Utnapishtim, since that would be like calling the Frankenstein's monster by the name of his loved and hated creator. She wonders if the bow has emotion, then remembers the oddly... flat feeling of mental connection with it. As she recognized then, it has no true ego or intelligence. She feels sorry for the bow for a moment, then realizes maybe that's actually a kindness. She would not like being stuck in such a form, with such a destiny, after all, and she knows few who'd thrive under such conditions. Still, she tests gently, to see if her conclusions are correct, "Would you like a name?" If it has no ego, it won't care. If it's developing ego, or does have ego... it will care, possibly intensely.
The bow pauses for a moment. [tt]"If you wish to call me by a different sobriquet than 'bow,' I will accept it."[/tt]
Mikal smiles faintly, shrugging off her pack so she can see the bow. She runs her fingers gently over the reinforced wooden recurve that she knows is completely illusory, "Do you care?"
The bow hesitates for a bit longer. [tt]"I... do not know. I... think I would like to be known as something other than the 'Bow of SOMEONE.'"[/tt]
Mikal looks a bit surprised -- that was unexpected! Huh. Sounds like the bow might be developing a personality! She considers silently for a moment whether this is something she should encourage or not... but the answer is never really in doubt for long. Mikal's never been one to be able to turn away from someone truly in need -- she wouldn't have been a monster hunter if she could -- and so she simply mentally readjusts a bit, so smoothly she doesn't even realize she's done it: the bow is like a young thing that needs help being raised properly. Very well, she'll give it what help she can, so it 'grows up' strong and healthy. "All right then. We need to pick a name for you. Do you have any preferences? What was your native tongue?"
[tt]"When I was borne by the tribe of Abel, my native tongue was Harappan."[/tt]
Mikal murmurs softly, "Harappan. Hm. All right, would you like a name in that tongue? Do you have a preference on what to be called? It's going to be your name, so it should be one you like, after all."
[tt]"While I would appreciate a name in the Harappan tongue, there are none left who speak it, even in the Dreamtime. And so I would ask for a name in your language, as you are the first who has asked me for my name. I give to you the honor of naming me."[/tt]
Mikal smiles, "All right. I accept, and thank you! Let me think..."
Mikal is silent for a moment, then murmurs thoughtfully, "You are curved, like trees in the wind, like the changing moon, like the rainbow in the sky... and so I think I will name you Papaios, after the deity of sky and wind for the equestrian nomads with whom we occasionally traded. They were fierce, proud women, and they carried bows that looked like you." She grins shyly, "How's that?"
[tt]"That is well. Thank you. I think Papaios would have been pleased."[/tt]
Mikal beams, gently and thoughtfully stroking the apparent wood grain of the bow as she considers. Finally she says slowly, "Papaios... if you can recognize that I'm mortal, can you also recognize whether your target is mortal or not? Or just a deer, or whatever?"
The bow answers, [tt]"Yes, I can identify a being as being a mortal or an aethyr or a figment of the dreamtime, like an animal. I can also determine if a being is a Throne, a Sceptre, or a lesser aethyr.
[/tt]
Mikal says, "Good, that helps." She's silent a moment, then carefully asks, "Have you... been shot at, or shot at, all of those types of entities before?"
The bow replies -- actually a touch wryly -- [tt]"Yes, and yes. Though my experience at being shot at Thrones is minimal."[/tt]
Mikal brightens, "Oh, fantastic! So you know how much awen was in each shot, yes? -and whether it was successful or not? Can you teach me that, please?"
The bow replies, [tt]"I can attempt to. Please note that when I was shot at the Throne of Death, that was the one time I was shot at a Throne, and my wielder at the time did not know Raven was actually a Throne, only that she was an aethyr."[/tt]
Mikal looks surprised, "Was this your previous wielder? Why was he shooting at Raven?"
[tt]"He was startled by her appearance after a fight. He did not realize at the time what form the Throne of Death took and so did not recognize her."[/tt]
Mikal nods slowly, "I... understand. Clearly she was not slain. Was she harmed at all? Did she retaliate?"
[tt]"He missed. But she would not have been harmed. He did not allocate any awen to that shot. And she knew he was surprised and startled and did not retaliate."[/tt]
Mikal nods in faint relief, "That's good. All right, so let's practice, if you're willing?" She pulls the bow out of the gorytus, then listens for a bit and grins... then aims at a tree trunk in the opposite direction of where she can catch the occasional, happy, faint yodel. "Do I just mime pulling the bowstring? Will you make an arrow for me, or what?"
Papaios says, almost eagerly, [tt]"Yes, certainly I am willing. And yes. If you hold me with the intention of firing, and reach to pull the bowstring if I had one, the bowstring and a normal arrow will form."[/tt]
Mikal looks pleased, "All right!" She lifts her arms, aims, and mimes drawing the bow. She's paying careful attention -- she wants to be completely familiar with the weight of the pull, the heft of the bow, and how much lift it gives the arrows it shoots. She holds the pose for a few heartbeats, carefully checking how everything feels... then releases, watching with exacting, narrowed gaze just how the aim on this thing is.
The bow feels light, and it feels like it's a standard weight of pull for a combat bow -- slightly lighter than a hunting bow. But the arrow flies straight and true as if it couldn't fly any better -- the arrows it creates are apparently perfect.
Mikal muses quietly, "Papaios, did that use any awen?"
The string forms as Papaios said it would, and though it twangs when released as a normal bowstring, Mikal does not feel the wind of it's movement against her forearm. The bow replies, [tt]"That was a normal shot. It did not use any awen. The amount of energy it used from my internal reservoirs was minimal."[/tt]
Mikal says, "All right, good." She's silent, thinking a bit, then lays the bow across her lap, "That's sufficient for, say, a deer, right? Or a mortal?"
[tt]"For a deer, yes. For a mortal... if you don't mind my saying, they need a little more to garauntee a take down in a single shot."[/tt]
Mikal nods thoughtfully again, her hands brushing in slow, absent strokes over the bow, unwittingly familiarizing herself with it, "Yes, that makes sense. Let me think... does an aethyr, lesser or otherwise, require awen? Or do you just manifest the arrow as wooden or iron or salt or whatever their weakness is?"
[tt]"A typical lesser aethyr will not require to be shot with an arrow created with awen in order to reasonably assure a takedown. Most are not as hardy as mortals. However, if you wish an arrow of a specific material, I can create one, at a cost of one grain of awen. Thus, an arrow of iron, or salt crystal, or flaming pitch, or... you get the idea."[/tt]
Mikal blinks, "Whoa, I didn't know there were entities here that have..." She pauses, considering, then amusedly notes, "Actually, I'd be more surprised to find something that wasn't susceptible to burning pitch!" She grins, "Fantastic -- that's good information to have. Is a lesser aethyr like, um... like the aelfar or the kitsune or goblins or whatever? Also, what's the difference between a Throne and a Sceptre, please?"
[tt]"That is correct. By 'lesser aethyr,' I mean any aethyr who is not a Throne or a Sceptre. That would include kitsune, samebito, alfar, kappa, goblins, and others.
[tt]"The bail will be better at explaining the differences, Mistress. I only know how to shoot at them. But the basic difference between a Throne and a Sceptre is that a Throne is a power in their own right -- such as the Throne of Dreams or the Throne of Death or the Throne of Love. A throne is a power approaching a god, but in a limited way. A Sceptre is the servant of a god, like an angel, or a rakshasa. They are moderately more powerful than lesser aethyrs.[/tt]
Mikal reflexively twitches to look nervously behind her at the term 'mistress.' It takes her a moment to realize both that the bow was addressing her -- and to register the other useful information it had just given her. She takes a breath, letting her heart slow down again -- the thought of someone sneaking up so silently behind her that she'd entirely missed it was quite unsettling! -then murmurs with a forced smile, "Um, j-just call me Mikal, please, Papaios?"
[tt]"As you wish, Mikal."[/tt]
Mikal sighs in relief, "Thanks." She's silent for a bit, pondering the new information... then she adds curiously, "Have you taken down a Sceptre, then?"
[tt]"Yes. It normally requires quite a bit of awen."[/tt] The bow explains, in brief, how much awen is needed for sceptres, stressing that this is for 'reasonable chances' for a takedown, barring some unforseen protection or sheer dumb luck on the part of the sceptre.
Mikal nods in silent fascination, listening intently, then thanks the bow for the information. Hesitantly she adds, "So... do you know if the Sceptres, say, can tell how much awen you have in an arrow? Or do they all look the same on the outside?"
[tt]"They cannot tell. Unless the arrow is physically (so to speak) different, such as flaming pitch or dripping acid or coated in ice, each arrow is the same as any other."[/tt]
Mikal looks faintly relieved, "Oh, good. Hm, what else... oh! Do the special arrows -- both physically and awen-enhanced -- do they fire any different from the regular ones?"
[tt]"Their performance is identical to a regular arrow."[/tt]
Mikal beams, "Fantastic! I think that answers all my questions and my worries then, Papaios!" She tilts her head, looking down at the bow and smiling, "So, do you have any questions? What do you want?"
The bow pauses for a moment. [tt]"I want to be useful, Mikal. I want to be used against a spider-wasp again."[/tt]
Mikal nods slowly, her smile fading away, "Me too, Papaios. I can't imagine living and not being useful -- that would be just as good as dead, to me." She pats the bow, her expression grim, "And trust me -- I intend to do my best, as regular as clockwork, to be someplace every one hundred days where we can be taken out to where the spider-wasps are, so we can kill another one."
[tt]"I look forward to that, Mikal."[/tt]
Mikal adds thoughtfully, "Can you count the passing of days, or are you just suddenly aware you're ready? If the former, it'll help us be more effective."
[tt]"I can inform you as to how much my quiver is full, and an estimate of how many days until my quiver is full."[/tt]
Mikal says, "Excellent, that's just what I need! Now the only other thing I need to know is how to get to the spider-wasps -- and then we're set!"
Mikal grins bleakly, "And I'm willing to bet the aelfar will be quite happy to help us get there."
The bow replies, [tt]"That I cannot help with."[/tt]
Mikal says, "That's all right." She grins, adding, "That's my chance to be useful, you know?"
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