Bough -- Logs

Angkor Wat remains quiet for the moment, with nothing moving except the leavs of plants moved by the wind. The occasional call of a jungle bird is heard -- actually, there's quite a bit more bird activity now. And as Mikal approaches the stairs leading up to the next tier, she notices, perched on one of the nondescript statues to either side of the stairs, a tiny littl eball of light brow fluff. It is some kind of long-tailed mouse, with very long toes, a large seed in it's forepaws that it worries over, nibbling and trying to crack. It is the first actual animal here in Angkor Wat that any of them have yet seen.

Mikal smiles, tucking her bow away and murmuring softly, "Aren't you a cute little thing?" She blinks, looking around as the bird calls register -- then she smiles at her friends, "Whatever it was in the stairwell, I think it's gone now. The birds are happy again."

The climbing mouse peers up at Mikal, blinking its tiny black eyes, and, apparently unthreatened, returns to nibbling the nut.

Norris huhs. "Well ,they're talkin', anyways. Can't verra well tell iffn' they's happy. Unless one'a you can use magics t ' tell?"

Mikal grins at that, whispering, "Eat well!" as she pads softly past the gerbil. She glances over her shoulder at Norris, smiling, "Actually, they're all likely pretty irritable, since I think they're all claiming territory. But it sounds nicer to say they're happy, you know?"

Norris huhs. "Claimin territory, really? They dun must be real mercurial about it, then. Seem like birds is always going from place to place."

Mikal grins at Norris as she pauses to search her pockets, "I guess so! I've not figure out how to talk to them, so I don't know for sure."

Jareth smiles at the little creature, and then listens to the birdcalls.

Mikal brightens as she finds some sunflower seeds at the bottom of her backpack. She cracks a few of them between her fingers, then gently lays them on the edge of the statue on which the little treemouse sits, breathing softly, "There you go! Enjoy!"

The tree mouse seems inordinately happy about the pre-cracked seeds, and it tucks the uncracked nut into it's cheek pouch and eagerly nibbles on the sunflower seed meat.

Mikal giggles softly, watching for a moment -- then grins over her shoulder at her friends and companions, "Let's go! We want to go inwards and downwards to the center, right?" She turns, drawing out her bow again to be careful and prepared, and starts padding along the stairs, glancing warily back and forth as she runs point.

Jareth is staying right where he's put, between his companions, which means he's following right along after Mikal.

Norris is no longer carrying his weapon openly, but he's enough of a wall all by himself, keeping Jareth safe.

The stairway is, like the others, arched, which lends a cool shade to the group as they head up the stairs to the second tier. Their footsteps echo on the stone seemingly very loud in their ears.

Thus it comes as a great surprise when they reach the top tier, to not only see the occasional small scampering mouse, but flocks of jungle birds. And, almost as if underneath all other sounds, the distinctive sound of human voices chanting low, harmonious mantras.

Norris huhs! "Look like we done got some residents."

Mikal raises an eyebrow, then turns to whisper to the rakshasa with them, "I thought you said this place was lost and abandoned?"

Vhibishasa looks a little floored. "Yes... that's what we thought! Nobody has been here in... in ages!"

Norris scratches his chin. "Well...they's chanting, so ah guess they's natives, an' not angels."

The group find themselves close to the central structure, now. The walls of the temple proper seem like they were raised most recently, yet the lush jungle ivy growing upon the stippled walls looks like it has has had decades if not centuries to climb up the sides. The grass is thick and green, and looking up, one can see flocks of both buzzards or condors and brilliantly-colored jungle birds flapping overhead.

Mikal grins at both men, then holds up her index finger to her lips in a shushing gesture. She tiptoes up the stairs, looking around searchingly for whomever is chanting. She can't help smiling at the rainbow colored birds -- they're as brilliantly beautiful as flying jewels.

It is not immediately clear where the chanting is coming from; if Mikal had to guess, it would be that it was from the temple itself.

Norris quiets up. It's what he does best.

Mikal continues inwards, heading for the temple and the... monks?

Jareth finds himself almost fascinated by the birds, but manages to keep himself from moving to greet some of them. And then he wonders: Why would he greet birds?

The group goes clockwise around the central temple, to what looks to be the front of the temple. There, the group finds open archways that shade the sun above yet are cool within, forming a sort of gallery. Orange linen hangs as windbreaks or banners, lending color to this place. The stairs lead downwards, away from the temple, into a more enclosed gallery and a series of cloisters, while leading upwards, it goes upward to the temple.

Mikal looks up towards the chanting... then down towards where they'd been told the information would be hidden. She considers for a moment... then heads silently upwards. If someone lives here, she and her friends should ask permission before taking anything.

Norris huhs as he takes a closer look at the linen. "Look new. Smell new too." he comments quietly to the others. I think they really do dun live here."

The impressions Jareth got before are stronger here. Thicker and more clear. His eyes follow them, scanning through the galleries and then to the stairs. Though he's not sure why, he keeps his voice down, "There's been a lot of movement up the stairs."

Jareth has a thought and looks at the rakshasa, "Do you reconize the chants? I don't speak the language."

Vhibishasa nods quietly. "It's a mantra of prayer. Buddhist, I believe. A mantra of those who are pursuing enlightenment in an ascetic temple.

As Mikal climbs up the stairs, the deep, rich chorus of the mantra seems to grow louder, and yet it is not deafening. Finally, she reaches the top of the stairs, seeing the four sunken cloisters and the central structure The halls, however, are empty. There is no indicator of who is chanting.

Mikal blinks startledly, looking around in wonder. Who's doing the chanting, if there's no one here? She steps cautiously into the temple, her head turning alertly from side to side as she pads through the temple, listening and looking.

She sees no people at all. As she walks further into the temple, the mantra seems to welcome her; it does not press upon her mind, being less of an unignorable cacophony and more of an audible blanket that is lightly draped across her shoulders. The others, as they reach the top of the stairway, experience the same feeling.

Mikal finally stops in the absolute center of the temple, looking around in awed wonder. She stares up at the arching cupola above her, she turns to each of the many directions, she listens to the beautiful chanting... then she whispers softly, "H-helloo...?"

The chanting slowly stills at Mikal's words -- it does not fully go away, but it does quiet a little, enough that she can hear someone's bare feet on the stone. After a few moments, a young man, with shaven head, wearing orange and saffron robes, steps from behind a pillar. He smiles quietly to the group, dazzling white teeth framed by his dusky skin. "Hello. Please be welcome to Angkor Wat."

Mikal's storm-gray eyes are wide in shock and amazement, "Er... th-thank you? Why... how can we h-hear... but not see you?!"

Norris eyes the monk carefully. He's understandably wary. The last monk seemed nice enough too, but it was proven out they could only trust him so far. And what with the no-see-um going on...

The monk inclines his head. "I am but one among the many here. As the youngest, it fell to me to welcome the new arrivals. The other monks are focussed on their prayers. Please do not take offense if I am the only one to greet you at this time."

Jareth is a little startled at the appearance of the young man in the robe and for a moment, he's not sure if he's seeing a ghost of one of the scores of monks that chanted in this place, imprinting the stones with their words and the energy of their reverence.

Mikal nods silently, eyes still wide as she waits for an answer to her question.

Jareth can't help reaching forward. He intends to touch the young monk's hand, or perhaps his robe.

Mikal whispers to Raphael, [Does he have a scent, Raph? Is he real?] A moment later her astonished gaze swivels to Raphael, and she uncertainly adds, [Er... or, um... sh-should I call you Loki instead?]

Norris clears his throat. "Well...dun expect we need ta meet y'all. But mebbe you can dun help us, all by yer lonesome." He looks to one side and then the other, making sure there are no evil statues creeping up on them.

Raphael's nose twitches, and he notes that he does, indeed, appear to be real! Then again, he adds warily, the Maraist priest also scented real, once he manifested, at least. And, he notes wryly, he's most familiar, if that makes sense, with being called 'Raphael,' at least as much as Mikal is familiar with being 'Mikal.' So 'Raphael' fits well.

The monk smiles serenely to Jareth, actually moving to touch Jareth's hand when he reaches forward. "You would be surprised at how often visitors do that." He looks to Mikal. "The other monks are not visible because their essences, their souls, so to speak, are devoted entirely to prayer. Perhaps the best way to put it, is that, so focussed on no-desire and no-body are they at the moment, that they have no bodies in the usual sense of the Dreamtime."

He looks to Norris, inclining his head. "I will of course do what I can for you. Come, though. While it will not disturb the monks in prayer, perhaps we should confer in the Gallery of One Thousand Buddhas. It would be more polite."

Mikal nods in slightly dazed relief to Raphael, [Uhh... okay]. She nods again, this time to the monk, and follows him.

Norris gestures to Jareth. Even if He was once Lilith, a far more potent worthy than himself, he's still determined to keep the far more fragile goatheard between himself and Mikal.

Jareth smiles as the monk reaches out and he laughs, clasping the young man's hand. He's starting to relax a bit.

The monk leads the group down the stairs again; the chanting fades as if into the distance, but somehow it seems to cling around the young monk like a not at all unpleasant scent. He leads them down into the gallery they saw before, and while he does not disappear, he does seem to be visibly older when he turns to face the group, in the gallery. There are -- if his words are correct -- a thousand statues of the Buhdda here, in niches and small shrines, all subtley or not-so-subtly different.

Besides his visible change in age from a young man to a wizend sage, and his robes loosing some of their vibrancy of color, he is most assuredly the same man. "As I said," he says pleasantly, his voice a bit weathered from age, "the other monks would not be concerned, but I felt it would be most polite to not speak where they were praying."

Mikal blinks startledly, "Y-you... you got old!"

Mikal manages to recover her dropped jaw and adds, "How'd you do that?!"

The man looks surprised at Mikal's outburst, then he ohs! and smiles quietly. "It is the nature of Angkor Wat in the Dreamtime," he says gently and reassuringly. "The heart of it is the temple, and those who come here to devote themselves to achieving the enlightenment as spoken of by the Buddha, to achieving Nirvana, we are affected by it. I am not old, you see, at least, not 'old' as some may call it. Age is an illusion. The body is an illusion. Desire is an illusion. This, at least, is how we relate to the universe."

Mikal blinks a bit confusedly, but nods with determination, trying to understand, "So you... so you could look like a baby too?"

Jareth tips his head to the side, blinking as the monk explains his change.

Mikal looks around, then adds slowly, "Or... or nothing at all?"

The monk laughs. "I imagine I could, if I were so inclined! As it is, here in the Gallery, I appear as I did when I first came to Angkor Wat. Above us, in the temple, the body, or at least the image of the body, is unhindered by the illusions of age." He sighs, self-amusedly. "To be honest, the wiles and ways of the Dreamtime are things that we have meditated on for many years. And I see that I am being rather confusing and dissembling." He gestures to one end of the gallery; a low table with a rather crude clay teapot sits there, but the tea smells quite lovely. "Come. I will speak less confusingly. Tea can be quite wonderful for grounding one's self, and I would be pleased if you would join me. You have come a long way, as it is."

Norris blinks himself, looking like a confused dog again. When it's explained, it's not clear that he follows, though he's doing his best. At mention of tea, though, he gets wary again. The monk of Mara offered tea too. Tea is no longer the save haven of all people good.

Mikal nods perplexedly, following the monk to settle cross-legged by the low table. She looks around confusedly; had this been here before?

Jareth smiles, feelin a weight he wasn't aware of lifting from his shoulders. This man is being perfectly honest and he really is apologizing for dissembling, "Just because we don't know how to listen to your words doesn't mean you're speaking badly."

She hadn't noticed the table, but where it had been was not easy to see from where she had been standing with the monk.

The monk pours out the tea into small cups that look like they're as thin as eggshells. "Even so," he says cheerfully, "it is not polite to speak in koans to those who do not expect them. My name is Tok Pham. As I said, I am the youngest monk to come here to Angkor Wat. I came here not long after the Godswar, in fact, and my first clear thought after the chaos of that time is standing at the front gate of this place. Like many others, I came here seeking solace, and freedom from the universe that the Architect has crafted for us."

Mikal shivers slightly, and not just at the horror that must have been the Godswar. How many millennia ago had that war been? And yet she can feel the monk is mortal. How has he done this?

Norris leans forward, fingertips steepled. "The Architect's arm is long, Tok Pham. We come here hoping for information and tools we can use against him, before there is no one left to stop him."

Pham takes a sip of his tea. "Ah. I see. I will say that you are the first to have come here since the Godswar who have not sought to be monks. But we are ascetics, seeking to break free from the wheel of kharma. What help could we be against the Architect?"

Jareth says, "There are stories... information here that we need."

Mikal says, "The rakshasa tell us you have scrolls in your temple -- scrolls with information like the True Names of angels, and how to stop the Aqal, and how to bring back the gods and stop El-Amun-Re." She glances to Jareth and adds, "And a weapon.""

Jareth smiles wryly at mention of the weapon.

The monk looks markedly surprised at that, and he glances at Vhibishasa. "Indeed?" he says quietly. "I have been told that there are depths to Angkor Wat, vaults which contain information predating the Godswar and contemporary to it. I do not know how to reach those depths, however."

Mikal says very politely, "Honored monk, if we can find our way there, may we have the vahjra?" She hesitates, then adds, "I... I don't know how to find the information we need, though. Would it be all right to take the scrolls to Ravana Lord's people, so they could translate for us, if we promised to have them returned also?"

Pham looks very surprised, and he sets the teacup down. "I... I do not know quite how to answer that. It is not for me to decide, I believe. We shall have to confer with the other monks."

Mikal grins shyly, glancing sideways from under her bangs at her companions. She looks back at the monk, still smiling, "We'll wait."

Jareth sits up, "I would l like to go with you. I can see how your prayers have affected this place. I would love to see how it has been done. And I can tell you wish to help."

Pham nods, smiling as he stands. "Please do come, then. I do not believe this shall take long." He begins to walk up the stairs.

Jareth sets his cup down gently and stands to follow the monk. He is curious about the souls that have given this place so much of their energy and so much of their prayer.

Mikal blinks up at the monk, then hastily gulps down the rest of her tea before setting the fragile little cup carefully down, and rising. Once again she patters along after the monk.

This time, as they go behind the monk, they can see the transition to young-again-monk. It is subtle, as they go up the stairs, as the robes shift from old-but=well-mended, to crisp and vibrantly-colored. By the time they reach the top of the stairs, he is as they first saw him.

Mikal blinks, watching in fascination.

Jareth stores away this transition. He's seen so many wondrous things since they came here, but he hopes that the small miracles will never stop amazing him.

At the top of the stairs, the chanting is once again loud but not obnoxiously so. As he reaches the top of the stairs, Pham seems to whisper quietly in his native tongue, apparently to nobody in particular. Then the chanting begins to die away. And, one by one, as if stepping from hiding, not only in the cloisters but also atop the roofs, the other monks appear. There must be, easily, a hundred of them, all in the same saffron-orange robes, and all studying the new arrivals curiously and without rancor. One, who seems wizened even if he did not look to be middle-aged, who appears closed to the group, asks, "Pham has told us that you are seeking entry into the vaults below Angkor Wat?"

Jareth says, "We are. But only if it will not cause this holy place to be disturbed."

Mikal blinks, wide-eyed with amazement again as she looks around. A part of her wonders just how old these entities are. She stands on tiptoe, tugging gently on Vibhashana's sleeve to whisper to him, "How long ago was the Godswar, please?"

Norris is nodding and smiling casually to those gathered. Trying to look as friendly as he can manage, although that means he's grinning kind of goofily. "Heyall." he grunts.

Vhibishasa murmurs back to Mikal, shaking his head. "It's hard to tell. There's never been a proper accounting of the time since the Godswar. It was a very, very long time ago, though." He pauses. "Almost certainly longer than a mortal's lifetime."

THe monk nods, smiling quietly. "I am Sann Rainsey. Though I've been called the leader of the monks, I am only the oldest. I am gratified to hear you not wish to disturb this place, but we must ask, why is it you wish to enter the vaults?"

Jareth says, "We are trying, in our small way, to heal the Dreamtime. And to do that, we need the information in the scrolls we have been told reside here. "

Mikal gives the rakshasa a puzzled look. How could he say the Godswar happened "almost certainly" longer ago than a mortal's lifetime? Hadn't Armaros talked about it as happening at least millennia ago? She falls silent, confused and disturbed, and simply observes.

Norris looks between his friends...he suddenly wonders, then how in the world these folk would be able to trust them. They are outsiders, and we are asking for something sacred to them, something of profound value. Will hey be willing to give it to them on their say so? They don't know us from Adam. So to speak.

Sann looks consideringly at Jareth. "How are you attempting to heal it? That is to say, how can what is here possibly help?"

Mikal frowns thoughtfully to herself, remembering how weirdly malleable time is here. Then again... perhaps it really is hard to tell how long it's truly been. Her memory tells her she moved back and forth from the rakshasa realm, to Paris, to the rakshasa again, and then to here -- then back for the nights of the puja... she shakes her head confusedly, although this time there's a faint smile on her face.

Mikal looks up at the head monk, repeating what she said before, "The rakshasa tell us you have scrolls in your temple with information like the True Names of angels, and how to stop the Aqal, and how to bring back the gods and stop El-Amun-Re. That... and there's a vahjra."

Jareth smiles at Sann, "Our first step is to heal the sickness in the mind of El-Amon-Re. And after that, to drive back the Aqal that are threatening all the levels of being. You may not even know what you have here, but there are texts that could help us to do all of that." He grins at Mikal with affection in his eyes, "And we have been told there is a vajra here that could be of some use."

Sann listens to both Mikal and Jareth for a few moments. "I see. We will allow it, but on one condition: That you share with us what it is you discover down there, and ask us first before you remove anything. Is this acceptable?"

Mikal smiles ruefully, shaking her head, "Um... we can't do anything useful with it. We can't read it. We were hoping either you or the rakshasa could translate it for us... but if you want the rakshasa to do that, we'll need to take the scrolls to them. But like I said to the other monk, if you want we'd be willing to promise they'd be returned?"

Mikal adds a bit worriedly, "Although... we'd really like to borrow the vajra for Jareth, so he has a good weapon too?"

Jareth leans in just slightly toward Sann, voice gentle, "We do not want to take anything that might harm the Dreamtime out from here, where it safe and contained. This world... all the worlds... need to be healthy and whole again. There are so many souls that could perish before they can reach their potential. And what you have here could be the path toward that healing."

Sann seems a little surprised at the mention of the vajra. He is about to comment, wen Jareth's words take him further by surprise. He blinks, then smiles quietly. "You speak my heart," he says. "Very well. We will permit it. We will await your safe return."

Jareth smiles his brightest smile and reaches to take the monk's hands in gratitude, "Thank you."

Mikal looks relieved, "Thank you so much, honorable one!" She bows politely, then beams at Jareth with relief.

Jareth pauses another moment, "When we have returned... if you would have the time, I would like to learn the chant we have been hearing. It is beautiful and echoes in this place like sounds from the heart of time."

Mikal smiles quietly at that comment, lightly brushing her fingertips along Jareth's back. She'd like to hear him sing this.

Sann smiles. "We will be glad to teach it to you. But it is not merely in the sounds of it that it's wonder lies, but in it's silences as well."

One by one, the monks have been disappearing, and the chant returning to audibility. Sann continues, "I would caution you only in that the vaults are ancient, and have not been opened since the Godswar. There may be... things there, some of which may be hostile to you. We would ask you to do no harm to them, if at all possible, but we understand that you will need to defend yourselves."

Mikal nods silently at that, her gaze slightly trepidatious as she glances around.

Jareth nods to Sann, "In the silences between the notes of any song are where the echoes of the holy Aum lie." He looks to his companions and leans back against Mikal's touch without realizing he's doing it, "I am less a warrior... my companions will need to make that promise if they can."

Norris tsks. "Aw, shucks. Don't need t' worry none about that. Ah'm a maker, not a destroyer. We'll figger something out." he assures.

Mikal smiles a bit worriedly up at Jareth, then nods again to the head monk. Her voice is soft, "I -- I always try to do my best not to hurt anyone, honorable."

Mikal hesitates, then adds, "B-but, um... I will kill things if they're trying to kill people I'm trying to protect." She looks embarrassedly down at her toes, scuffing one boot against the stone floor as she whispers, "Sorry... thought you ought to know..."

Sann gently places his hands on Mikal's shoulders, smiling serenely and kindly. "Little one, you've no need to apologize. We understand. One should defend one's self, if one seeks to do greater good. We would not wish to see you, or your companions, lost to the vaults. Do what you must, that you will have a care about it is enough for us."

Mikal blinks a bit startledly up at the monk when he touches her. She nods and drops her gaze again, her cheeks flushing as she does so.

Norris nods sagely. "Let's get this thing here done, then."

The monks have by now all disappeared, and Sann and Pham both nod, smiling to the other mortals. They too, step behind a corner or a pillar, the chanting swelling now. After a moment though, there is the rumble of stone-on-stone, and in the very center of the top tier, underneath the center dome, the floor is dropping downwards in sections, forming a steep spiral staircase that leads downward. A musty smell rises from those depths.

Mikal blinks, stepping cautiously over to peer down the stairs.

Norris is in awe of that bit of stonework metamorphosis. "Izzit magic? or somethin' mechanical?" he's murmuring. And then he taps Jareth on the shoulder. "Yew kind see magic, yeah? Was it?"

Jareth blinks at Norris and then grins, "Not entirely, no."

Mikal murmurs to her companions, "We're going to need torches." She steps cautiously onto the first step, examining the walls to see if there are any alcoves with torches ready in them. The monks must use this stairway often, after all.

Norris is already pulling torches from his pack. No need to bogart torches.

The stairway looks like it's been virtually never used. Nevertheless, the nooks set into the walls do have unlit torches, the tops wrapped with pitch-soaked cloth. These, plus the torches from Norris's pack, should be enough to keep the group lit.

Norris lights the torches and hands them off....and then is fascinatedly studying the stonework. "Flawless." he murmurs,

Mikal frowns thoughtfully, raising a torch. She murmurs softly to Raphael, "Stay to the rear, big brother. I'll go first, because if I have to shoot anything I'll have to toss the torch down -- and I don't want to set anyone on fire accidentally."

Mikal hands Jareth a torch as well, her smile rueful, "Can you be right behind me, please? I'll need the light if I do have to fire."

Norris shakes his head in wonder. "Can't imagine...you said it wasn't entirely magic? There must be some magic in here, to keep everything so smooth! Every piece perfectly fitted..."

Norris says, "What it would be like, to craft something of this magnitude!"

Mikal glances over, then smiles, "Time consuming."

Jareth takes the torch and grins at Mikal, "Always right behind you when you need me to be, love." To Norris he says, "They don't use it much, though..."

Norris can't help but laugh! "You're both right, I expect. And I suppose I should stop mooning over it... Come on, let's see what the monks are so worried about.."

Mikal beams up at Jareth, her eyes shining for a moment... then she grins at Norris and nods, "On my way!" She heads silently down the stairs, stepping cautiously and with her bow in her free hand.

It is remarkably dark down at the base of the spiral stairs. The only light, other than the Mikal's torch, comes from above. The room she finds herself in is circular, a few yards wider than the staircase itself. There are four archways in each of the cardinal directions, and each one leads to what looks like another spiral staircase that leads downward.

These staircases, however, seem to follow the curve of the room as they go down, rather than being tight spirals leading down.

Norris hnhs. "An archway for each of us. Course, not saying we should split up, or anything."

Mikal looks around thoughtfully, considering... then closes her eyes and prays for enlightenment. Which corridor will bring them to the scrolls they need to stop the Architect?

Mikal sighs when she receives no answer, looking around glumly. Finally she simply shrugs and chooses the entrance to the immediate right of the stairs by which they arrived. She mutters under her breath as she heads downwards.

Norris encourages Jareth to follow, while he brings up the rear.

The stairwell is not terribly steep, but it does seem to go on for a while. By Mikal's estimation, it makes almost a full turn, before the stairwell opens up into a large circular chamber.

Here, the cavernous room is dimly lit by what look like milky-white enclosed oil lamps, though the oil should have burned dry long ago. The other three stairways also come down through here, the steps going around about one-eighth of a turn -- leaving a comfortable amount of room between the slender pillars holding up the steps, and the end of the stairway immediately to widdershins of it. Beyond the stairs, the room is circular, made from elaborate stonework. Four corridors stretch out, for each of the cardinal directions.

In the center of the room, within the circle made by the stairways, stands a single, small pedistal, with a single, rolled-up scroll upon it.

Mikal carefully checks each of the corridors, peering cautiously down them as far as she can see with her torch, and asking Raphael if he can scent anything.

There is a quiet little snuffling sound near one of the corridor archways as Mikal peers in. A tiny, albino fox, eyes white with blindness, nose twitching madly, ears as large as a fennic's, is discretely investigating these new sounds.

Jareth looks around the room and moves toward the pedestal.

Mikal hastily puts her torch back before she realizes the fox is blind. After that she tucks the torch into a sconce, then kneels and pulls some jerky from her pack. Her voice is very soft and gentle, "Hello there, teeny tiny! Are you hungry? What do you find to eat down here, little one?"

Norris busies himself by studying the room and the various exits himself, wondering in wisdom can be found in inobvious places.

The fox cowers a little bit at the voice, but it isn't much louder than it's used to. And then it smells the jerky. It inches forward, nose twitching as it edges closer to the jerky, carefully giving it a lick, then another, then a few more, then a nibble.

As for what it eats, at the moment it seems to be eating jerky.

Mikal grins delightedly, gently setting the jerky down where the tiny fox-creature can nibble at it. She sits back on her heels, watching with an arm about Raphael's neck, keeping her voice calm and soft, "Isn't this little one a charmer? It makes me wonder, though... what does she eat down here? She's all white and blind, so she clearly doesn't go outside."

The albino fox is eating the jerky, with remarkably silence, or at least being very quiet about it. Even though blind, it does seem quiet alert to sounds, judging by the way her ears are turning this-way and that.

Raphael for his part, is cautiously sniffing the air, and he notes that the little albino fox is not the only animal down here.

Upon the pedistal, the bamboo scroll is neatly set, with a saffron ribbon tied around it.

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

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