Waking Dreams

Samuel Washburn always managed to wear his years well. Thinning, graying blond hair, his tanned face set with lines (from smiling too much, he always claimed), the skin pulled taut over his thin hands. The way he dressed, he looked like someone's grandfather... sometimes sweaters, sometimes a blazer over a white shirt, tie, corduroy slacks, loafers. Always muted colors like tan or brown or burgundy. Yet for all that he never stood out much, there was a kindly aura about him, his eyes inviting you to sit down and listen to what he had to say. Today it's a grey sweater-shirt with a black collar, and it makes Jason smile as he stands there in front of Mr. Washburn -- because it was a gift he gave the man before going away to college. "You've got to have a piece of clothing made in the last ten years," Jason had told his history teacher at the time.

Mr. Washburn smiles back at Jason, his eyes thoughtful and his graceful hands neatly folded before him, "So how are you liking college, Jason?"

Jason can't help but smile in return. "I like it okay; some interesting courses. None of the teachers are like you, though. They don't feel like they love what they're doing. So mostly it just feels like preparation for something bigger. Like being a teacher, like you," he replies casually. He never made a secret about his admiration for Mr. Washburn. When he was asked what he was going to major in, he'd said, "I don't know. But when I find out what it is, I'm going to teach it."

Mr. Washburn chuckles quietly, then asks, "What are you majoring in? Have you discovered what it is you want to teach?"

"Officially? I'm going for a Masters in English -- literature, really. But that doesn't cover it. They don't have a lesson plan for learning to teach critical thinking. That's what I really want to do." Jason asserts, putting his hands in his pockets. "Don't want a class of stenographers. I want to teach so that people ask questions, rather than learn answers." Even as he says the words, the irony comes to him... that was what he told Phyx -- that he wanted to learn the answers to what was going on.

Mr. Washburn nods slowly, resting his temple against his fingers as he contemplates a pencil in his other hand, tapping it slowly against his desk. Finally he glances up and asks, "How will you learn that, Jason? What is your plan?"

Jason grimaces. "I don't know... I didn't really have a plan," he murmurs, removing his hands from his pockets and crossing his arms over his chest. "I took classes that sounded like they might put me on that track. I took other classes to encourage myself to do the same. To think in a different way about something new." He gives his teacher a rueful look. "I'm in a different classroom now, though -- and the teacher doesn't announce when she's giving the tests. The things I'm learning now I can only learn by doing."

Mr. Washburn smiles again, his eyes faraway, "Ah, yes... the lovely half-succubus, and her supernatural friends." His gaze returns to Jason and he nods once, saying firmly, "Still, Jason, I would ask you to remember what you've learned to date as well. Be sure to give some thought to how you intend to accomplish your goals." A bell rings in the distance, and Mr. Washburn chuckles again, "Ah, me -- no rest for the wicked!" As young folks start filing into the classroom, the history teacher rises, standing behind his desk and offering his hand to Jason, "You need to go now, but we'll doubtless meet again. Take care of yourself, young man -- it was a pleasure to see you again!" He waves his other hand casually behind him, to where four doors stand in the wall, "Come back through here when you're done with the Cave of Self, to seek the elements external to your question. I'm sure class will be done by then."

Part of him is disappointed... but Jason understands Mr. Washburn's responsibility to his current crop of students. He can be patient. "Thank you, sir," he replies softly, and moves towards the doors... and he stands indecisive a moment, unsure which door to take to leave. "Forget about two roads diverging, I've got four," he mutters to himself.

Mr. Washburn glances over at Jason, then chuckles, waving towards the door by which Jason entered, "No, no, son... you have to finish examining your inner self first." Jason coughs, and then nods comprehension, turning back around and squirming past the young men and women still filing into the classroom.

The young people part, glancing incuriously at Jason, and a moment later he's through the door -- and back in the dirt cave. To his left and behind him are crumbled dirt and holes in the walls... above is the dark hole he fell down. In his hand is the softly humming staff, and to his left and in front of him are dirt walls. The one to his left, in fact, is starting to groan and creak, and the rootlets are quivering a bit. Jason doesn't even respond violently this time. "Cave of Self. Is there something inside me that thinks I need to be flagellated?" he murmurs as he raises the humming staff and hits the wall that's creaking. The wall explodes inwards in a small spray of dirt and rootlets... and once again, there's a small, dirty entrance to a dim cave or room beyond.

Jason sits casually atop his desk, facing the class. There's about twenty students all told, giving him a substantial audience, without being so large that he doesn't know each and everyone one of their names. This high school is the best he could hope for: relaxed enough that he doesn't have to wear constrictingly formal clothing, dressed only in a polo and tan slacks. Funded through endowment, so they can treat their teachers well and still offer a completely free education to the children. Not that he's worried about money; he's paid enough to be comfortable, and that's all he needs -- and the students... the students are the best part.

"When you are looking at a story that someone else has written, it's not enough to read the story. You have to read each word, each sentence, each paragraph, as if that little piece alone has a message," he tells the teenagers with a smile. "One of my teachers once told me when you're beginning to think critically about a story, the first thing you do is look at the first line, look at the last line, and look at the title -- and after reading each of them, write down the first question that comes to mind about each." He lifts a book off his desk. "Moby Dick... this is a book I presume you're all familiar with?" All the students nod or murmur agreement. Jason opens the book and reads the first line. "Call me Ishmael," he informs the students. "What question might we ask in response to reading that line?" The students look among each other for a moment, and then one hand raises, then five -- then ten, and more. Jason is content, just seeing those faces light up.

He calls on one. "If the narrator is telling us to 'call' him Ishmael, does that mean it's not his real name? And if so, why not?" says an eager blonde girl. Jason grins. "Excellent..." He's distracted momentarily as his phone vibrates. "Yes, Malcolm," as he points to a young man in the back, fishing out his phone and checking the screen. Diana has sent him a text message. He's still amazed he got her to learn how to do that -- but very likely it's another daily show of affection. He had to tell her a couple times not to actually call him in the middle of class. "Is there any significance behind the fact that Ishmael is a Biblical name?" Malcolm responds. Jason puts his phone back -- he'll read it later. "Is there indeed?" Jason responds with a grin.

A short while later there's a quiet tap on the door -- then a young man peers into the room, "Mr. Burke, there's a call for you in the office, please?"

Jason chuckles wryly. "One moment..." He picks up packets from his desk, and hands them to the people in the front row. "Take one and pass them back. These are excerpts from various novels and short stories. Take a look at them while I'm gone... when I come back, every single one of you better have at least one question about one of those excerpts, because you never know who I might call on! I'm unpredictable!" The class groans good-naturedly as he slips out the door, going to the office.

Once again, as Jason steps through the door, he finds himself in the little dimly lit pit. To his immediate left the wall creaks, root tendrils starting to quiver. The three holes he's been through so far are crumbly and a bit dusty. Jason blinks, and barely has time to digest what just happened when the wall creaks again. "Survey says... another door, but to who knows where..." he mutters, whacking the last wall with his staff.

The dirt wall crumbles, large clumps of dirt thudding to the ground at Jason's feet. Jason crawls through, and tumbles suddenly as the dirt once again collapses even more. He ends up rolling down a short incline, coming to a jarring halt against a large, carved stone or boulder. Perched on top of it is a nightmare -- a gaunt woman with tangled, dirty hair and jagged teeth. Her cheeks are sunken and her breath is fetid as she leans over him, hissing venomously, "One simple Mark... did you think it was a passport? Did you really think you were invulnerable, that you were a peer to such as us?!"

Jason instinctively recoils in response to the woman's visage: her ugly teeth, the stench coming from her maw. "I just... I just wanted to help!" he blurts in response to her words, holding the staff up protectively.

The woman screeches, slashing at the staff with a clawed hand -- does she have feathers or something hanging from her arms? Her insane, glowing eyes return to Jason and she hisses, "Excuses! Always excuses, always someone else's fault -- men are all the same! No matter -- you'll suffer the same fate you drew on your lovers with your carelessness, and I'll feed very well for a few more days!" She spreads her arms out -- no, they're actually ragged wings -- and crouches a bit, preparatory to leaping off the large stone onto Jason.

Jason doesn't understand -- the woman put him immediately on the defensive not just verbally but physically -- how could Mike and Diana be hurt? Or worse? They can't! But then it seems clear that she's about to attack him, and he moves to respond first with the only weapon he has at hand. "NO!" he cries out in fear, tinged with despair, as the staff swings at the feathered woman. The woman bounces up into the air in a sort of shuffling hop, aiming clawed talons at Jason -- but when he swings the staff at her she squawks startledly, and the claws close around it instead of Jason. Her weight causes her to fall clumsily across Jason, and he can see one ragged, filthy talon sinking into the wood of the staff held up before him. Staying here seems like a good way to get hurt!

Jason can't think straight... it's clearly a fight or flight response. On the one hand, there's no way he could beat her... on the other, if she really killed Mike and Diana, how could he let that go unremarked? But now she's on top of him, and that's too close for comfort. He shoves, trying to push the woman (harpy?) off of him while keeping hold of the staff -- when he notices the stone block he's lying against as carvings on it... the strange birdlike woman screeches as Jason shoves at her, tumbling unceremoniously off of him with a flutter of wings and a reeking gust of air. Then her hollow-cheeked face pops up from the dirty pile she landed in, and she hisses viciously, "I will feast on your entrails while you live, mortal!" Her eyes gleam with madness.

Jason doesn't have time to try and read the stone; he only looks long enough to assure himself it's not a gravestone, but rather looks like a rather ugly altar, stained with... no, not going to think about that. "Not going to get the chance..." he mutters as he gets to his feet, darting back the way he came. Only after he gets to his feet does he realize she still has a hold of his staff, but after a moment of tugging, and one savage jerk, it's his again and he flees pellmell back into the hole. Behind him, the harpy curses sulfurously at him, fumbling after him like a wounded animal... darting through the hole, Jason is once again tumbling into the original pit in the ground. He comes to a halt, panting slightly, against the wall through which he met Mr. Washburn. This time there are no creaking, groaning noises from the walls.

Jason is relieved by that -- he has enough wounds -- but he looks back through the hole he came warily, hoping the bird woman can't follow... the silence is almost palpable. There's a soft patter as a small clot of dirt falls and rolls down the little dirt pile by one of the cave holes. That's about it, though. There's not even enough light to see if there's dust in the air. Jason takes time to recover his breath, then. "Okay... hmm. Down the rabbit hole -- or dog hole. Four rooms. Cardinal directions, four is a sacred number. Balance." he mutters, trying to think. He gets his bearings, and then points at the first room. "Present... or rather, a would be present, if a different path was taken." Second. "Elements of past." Third. "Ah... future, sort of. A future to be wished," he murmurs. Then his eyes cast back to that fourth hole. "Which would make you what? A future of a different kind? One to fear?"

Jason nods to himself a moment. "Makes sense. Fear of the unknown, and there's much unknown here. Phyx, Beatrice, they all warned me... there are Supernaturals like that -- like her. Feeds on flesh, kills her prey. I keep looking for answers; I'm going to find her eventually, or someone like her. But that... that wasn't prescience. That was only fear. Fear is okay. But I can't let fear stop me. This is important. What I told Diana was right... we need to know. Can't just pull the blankets over our heads and let the rest of the world go hang." He looks around at the four holes. "Is that it? Why is this the Cave of Self? What about myself is in this cave?" The short staff hums quietly in Jason's hand, but aside from that and Jason's voice, the room is utterly quiet.

Jason finally looks at the staff itself. "And what are you supposed to be?" He finally takes a closer look at it, stroking the wood, touching the leaves, trying to see if there's anything remarkable about it -- aside from the humming, of course. The short staff seems to hum slightly more strongly for a moment as Jason touches it, but it still seems to be a rough-cut, short staff with the bark peeled off. It's a bit warm to the touch, and it hums. Past that... maybe he could tell more in better light. "Mr. Washburn said come back to him for answers anyway..." he muses, getting his bearings again and then going back through the second hole.

Crawling through the hole, Jason finds himself in a quiet, dim cave with four dark entrances in the far wall. Jason hunhs. "Not a classroom any more... but still four doors." he murmurs, disappointed there's no better light here. "Four doors, just like the Cave of Self. Cave of Self revealed four realities... what does this place have to show me?" he wonders aloud, looking at each of the entrances in turn. Then he hmphs. "Does it matter which I pick? Am I meant to go through each?" he says to the staff, not expecting an answer. It's still slightly warm in his hand, humming quietly... and nothing more.

Jason finally steps to the first entrance, and walks boldly into the darkness beyond. Diana looks up and smiles at Jason, her eyes heavy-lidded, "Well, hello there, sweetness. Mmm, just in time, too... starting to get hungry again. Are you ready for me?" She's lying languidly across her bed, and behind her Mike sleeps. There's the sound of the shower running as well, and... is that someone else sleeping on the bed as well? Diana pats the bed next to her, purring seductively, "Aren't you a sight for hungry eyes..."

Jason chuckles, his face pinkening in response. He's learned that when he expects Diana to be hungry, to undress first, or another set of clothes will be ruined -- and so he has. Except for something unusual... a bracelet or something like it on his wrist. He starts to look and then gets distracted... if Mike's over there, then who's in the shower? And who else is on the bed? "I feel like a buffet table..." he drawls amusedly, craning his head to see the other reclined form.

The silvery link bracelet jingles lightly on Jason's wrist, and a small, circular metal tag dangles in front of his eyes as he holds his wrist up before him. It's partly black, like a phase of the moon. Diana chuckles throatily, "Ah, you're so sweet -- I always enjoy your sense of humor." She crosses her wrists on the bed, resting her chin on them and watching Jason with a quietly amused smile. There's a curiously... crawling sensation at being so unwinkingly observed by those slitted golden eyes... Diana's tongue flicks out to lick her full red lips, and then she murmurs softly, "Come, pet... you made your choice. I've held up my end of the bargain: you are perfectly safe, wealthy, and cared for." She strokes the bed covering with a slowly sensuous gesture, purring, "Now... it is time for you to feed me again, luscious..."

Jason absently notices the chain on his wrist is like the ones Beatrice used. "You make it sound like I regret my choice," he drawls, swelling at the sight of her. "Feeding you is almost the best part..." he adds, indeed feeling safe, and eager, and more than ready -- and quickly losing interest in whoever else is present, having eyes only for Diana as he kneels on the bed, slowly 'serving' himself up onto the satin sheets in the familiar, if more luxurious, room above Dante's. He reaches up, running his fingers over Diana's now majestic, curved horns...

Diana chuckles lazily, rolling onto her side to watch Jason approach her. She leans her head a bit so he can rub around her horns, purring contentedly, her eyes still blissfully half lidded. "Mmm... I must confess I had my doubts initially, little treat... but you convinced me to stay home and grow up completely first. I'm glad I did; I've very much enjoyed this, and this way I'll have two or three more with you after Mike's been finished off, when we finally set out."

Jason is so lost in enjoyment of looking at Diana, touching her, that he's almost not listening to what she's saying, tingling in expectation of being with her again... and then her words cut through the fog. "Finished off? What is he finishing off?" he queries, confused.

Diana giggles, stroking one hand along Jason's side, "You're so funny! You know what I mean, silly -- I'll have eaten him all up, more than he can replenish, and he'll die. I've made him the same promise I make all of you, of course -- to drink the last of him up so he dies in my arms, in ecstasy." She smiles down at Jason, her full red lips curving gently around her fangs, "C'mere, luscious... I want to drink you up now."

Forget about the 'fog'... as she keeps talking, his fuzzy-headedness disappears entirely, replaced with a growing horror. "That's not... wait a minute..." he stammers, those lips for the first time looking menacing. He jerks back, trying to slip off the bed in fear.

Diana rolls back onto her front, watching Jason curiously with those unblinking golden eyes. "What's wrong, sweetmeat?" She grins, her tongue flicking out again for a second, "Are you having second thoughts again? Go on then... go angst a bit. When you realize it's easier with me you'll be back, and even tastier." She rolls back onto her back with a relaxed yawn, and her gorgeously glossy hair tumbles across the pillow, sliding silkily over the edge of the bed. She calls out, "Alan? Your turn, pet!" and there's a returning voice from the shower, eager and excited, "Already?! I'll be right there, lady!"

Jason stumbles back, one arm raised protectively against himself. "You're not Diana. Not the one I loved." he murmurs, not even bothering to look for his clothes, "and I would never court a quick death for an easy life." He backs out.

Jason stumbles back, but somehow his feet know precisely where to take him -- he smacks suddenly against a wall behind him, still upright. At the loud thud there's a startled male voice calling, "Jason? Is that you?" followed by a higher female voice, "I'll go check, love." Diana leans out the door with an inquiring look on her face. At sight of Jason she brightens, "Hello there, sweetheart!" A moment later she looks concerned, "Are you all right, lollipop? You look like you've seen a ghost again!"

Jason shakes his head, feeling clearly befuddled now. It's Diana... but not the Diana he just saw. She's dressed for one thing, in one of those anachronistic dresses of hers that looked like it comes from Medieval times. For another, her voice is noticeably different -- the way she calls him Lollipop... he no longer feels like a side of beef. "I'm, uh... okay. I think," he murmurs sheepishly, suddenly looking down at himself.

Diana smiles, stepping out next to Jason and sliding an arm about his shoulders, "Silly... you always stay up too late in those all-night wizard confabs. Come inside and tell Mike and I how things went. Did you have fun again? Do you just need some food, or to sleep some?" Looking down at himself, Jason realizes he's dressed as curiously archaically as Diana is -- in a nice, short, embroidered robe with long sleeves, belted at the waist, with loose, comfortable trousers tucked into decorated boots. Oddly, he really does feel a bit muzzy, as if he'd stayed up all night arguing vociferously with his peers.

Diana is murmuring comfortably to Jason as she gently guides him into the room she came out of, "If you'd rather, sweetheart, I can feed you some, too?" Mike looks up from where he's... doing something on what looks like a typewriter created by a steampunk ethos, complete with brass fixtures and a TV screen. He grins at Jason, pushing his glasses up his nose a bit, "Hey there, Aristotle. Couldn't resist the lure of teaching again, eh?" His voice is gently teasing, as if this is a nickname of long standing.

Jason is now more confused -- he knows Diana had clothes like these from Beatrice, but him? And what's this about wizards? -and then he's guided in to see Mike, and his contraption only makes him boggle. "You know me..." he dryly responds to Mike's smile, feeling the need to say something while his mind works. "Seek the elements external to your question," he mutters to himself. That's what Mr. Washburn had said. And the question was... what? Oh, right, who is he and what is he destined to become. "Clear as mud," he murmurs -- what he's seen so far seems to suggest he's stepping through alternate realities of his life. "What are you up to, Michael?" he queries, peering at his steampunk 'computer.'

Mike brightens, but before he can start explaining Diana smiles, murmuring, "Mike, darling... later, please? You know he'll just fall over asleep if we don't tuck him into bed." Mike looks a bit disappointed -- then chuckles quietly, "You're right, sweetheart; sorry." He grins at Jason excitedly, adding, "Later, I promise -- I think I've figured out the theory behind that last spell you created, lover!" Diana is gently guiding Jason to another door in the room, her hands warm on Jason's shoulders, "Come on, sweetheart... let's tuck you in and let you rest a bit." She pauses to open the door, then smiles at Jason as she waves him through, "Dream good dreams, lollipop!"

Jason is half about to ask 'what spell' when Diana ushers him off. He wonders about this... if this is his subconscious speaking, actualizing the things he's thought about in the back of his head. There's been more than one time he's been afraid of his ability to deal with the supernatural... if he were a wizard he might have the capacity to protect himself, rather than relying on Diana. "I guess that's up to my head, isn't it..." he responds ruefully to Di as he's thinking all this, going where she indicates. As the door closes behind Jason, he thinks he hears a voice murmuring, "What are your hopes and fears?"

The meeting was his idea. They never found the portal to the place the Supernaturals came from, but he met many, many of them along the way, and eventually gained their trust. They would all have to live in this world together: the sons and daughters of Adam, and the Sons and Daughters of Lilith. He was a bridge between those worlds, and he was convinced he could bring them together -- because things were changing, and the Supernaturals could no longer live in secret. Granted, some of the reasons why were his fault, but surely this was as it was meant to be? Yes, it was. His vision was not of an actual journey, where the drake would carry them all to a port. It was symbolic. He would bring them to safety by negotiating a peace. And where better to begin than the new Pope?

Diana took more convincing than the others. Their initial envoy would include many of the obvious but less imposing Supernaturals: the Satyr, Philip, the Djinn, the Rakshasa, the Unicorn, and Croaker -- and one other. He insisted that Diana and Mike stay with the others: "It's going to be difficult enough as it is, Di," he said soothingly. "You represent the Devil, to them. I chose all the others because they come from other mythologies than that of the Catholic faith. Besides, I need you to look after Mike and to keep some of the others calm. You're made for that," he assured. Diana had pouted, but nodded. "Bring her back safe," she said, more softly.

Jason only smiled. "Trust me," he assured.

The good news is it was easier to obtain an audience with the Pope and the College of Cardinals than he'd hoped. Parading down one of the main streets in Rome sitting astride the Unicorn was a step in the right direction. He chose well his party members, as they were also the least violent, and perhaps the most loyal believers in the Seer. The press showed up not long after, and he held a press conference right there, announcing his desire to speak with Pope Benedict XVI and the Cardinals. He told them of the Children of Lilith (as he decided to call them) and of his desire 'to finally come to terms with the crimes of the past on both sides, so that humans and supernaturals can live together in harmony'. From there they moved to the walls of Vatican City, and essentially camped out at its gates -- or to be more specific, to one side, not wanting to cause problems by blocking traffic. A representative came to them in the early morning of the next day, claiming the College would see them.

Jason smiled. Everything was falling into place. He was heartened by the responses so far. There was some fear present in the faces of the onlookers as he and his 'negotiating party' moved through the streets of Vatican City, into St. Peter's Square, to the Apostolic Palace. But there was also awe and curiosity. He dismounted the Unicorn at the steps, and then went to Philip's side, to help down his 'secret weapon,' currently concealed in a brown robe with a large hood, not unlike a monk's -- and in they went, to the great chamber where the Pope and his Cardinals sat. Sadly, the press could not join them inside, but this didn't bother Jason. This performance was meant for the men in power, and not everyone at large.

As he made his entreaty to the Cardinals, he was heartened by the looks on their faces. He did not expect wholehearted acceptance from them, but there was bemusement, and concern, and these men were clearly not dismissing his words. "Gentlemen all, I can understand your reticence. You all know well the difficulty in apologizing for mistakes made in the past. But I tell you now that mistakes were made on both sides, and as you yourselves know... to err is human! To forgive, divine!" He then encouraged the robed figure to his side. "Let me show you what forgiveness and love, and the casting aside of fear, can bring!" With that, he undid the robe and revealed... his daughter, Shar, who looked as human as the rest of them, except that from that perfect, milky forehead, there were the tiny buds of what would surely eventually become horns.

The gathered men gasp in shock at this union of mortal and supernatural. The silence is thick enough to walk on as the Cardinals stare at Jason's offspring -- and then one dares to speak. "Devil child! She is the Anti-Christ!"

Pride becomes horror, and Jason suddenly sees he has overplayed this hand. The expression on the faces of the gathered holy men is not longer one of worry and consideration, but of revulsion and fear. Along the link he can feel Diana snap to attention, sensing his change in mood -- and then someone tugs on a bell pull, and the room suddenly fills with soldiers, with the Swiss Guard, armed to the teeth. The hackles of the Seer's companions rise, and even Croaker looks deadly and menacing. The ground has given way beneath Jason's feet. No restoration to order seems possible now, as the seconds tick by. He speaks, and his words are drowned out by the ensuing cacophony as the soldiers open fire...

The vicious spitting rattle of machinegun fire echoes in Jason's head -- no! No, not possible, no, he'd never do that -- he didn't do that! He knows he didn't... and yet the dark rumble comes again, continuing, and he can feel himself being shaken by the -- by the... what is he being shaken by? A third time that deep, almost frightening sound comes, but this time Jason registers more clearly -- isn't that thunder? Half awake, he looks up and sees a face blurry over him. It appears to be speaking, in fact, "Seer? Seer, are you awake? You have more folks come to speak with you?"

A hand finds purchase on the limb shaking him. Soft. Not the hand -- what he's gripping; very furry arm. The hand itself... not that impressive. The skin is tight across the bone, liver spotted, but for all that, his grip is still strong. It takes Jason a moment to realize the hand is his. And as his eyes refocus, he sees the old eyes of Croaker staring down at him. No, not Croaker... Asterius. Jason insisted a long time ago that he stop using that silly name, and instead use the proper name he had been given, long ago. "Who is it this time, old friend," comes a voice Jason barely recognizes as his.

The old minotaur smiles, the wrinkles around his large, still-surprisingly expressive eyes making his bovine face seem warmer. "Visitors, Seer, for you. Shall I send them away, or will you speak with them?"

Jason seems to consider the situation as he pulls his body upright. His body does not seem frail, but it is still very old, and he shivers once he is free of the warm covers. He moved long ago to the mountainous wilderness in Vermont specifically to get away from the hustle and bustle of humanity. "They came all this way, Asterius. They dared to climb the mountain. I think I will greet them and take of their measure. Anyone who makes the effort is at least worth a moment of my time," he finally asserts querulously. In the back of his head he is amazed he has lived this long.

The big minotaur surreptitiously helps brace the older man as Jason sits up -- then nods his heavy head once, "I'll show them in then. Before I go, do you need anything, Seer?"

Jason smiles. "Make tea for us all, my friend. They must be cold. I know I am." He rises and goes to the hook where his robe hangs, putting it on, and then his slippers as well. Shuffling slowly out to the sitting room, he eases into a padded chair by the fire to warm himself.

The old bull man was smiling when he left Jason's room... but as he escorts the visitors in he seems much more stern, almost forbidding. There's two women and one man, all looking to be in their late 20's. They're all dressed in warm clothes, though Croaker clearly already took their coats and boots. The three murmur to each other as they stare at him, awed and maybe afraid to approach. Jason finally turns his head and smiles to them. "If you came here to talk to me, a good way to start would be introductions," he tells them in a stronger voice, now. "You, of course, already know who I am."

Finally the leader of the three, an Amazonian black woman, comes forward. "I am Nadia... this is Dean, and Shae. And you are... you are the Oracle?" Jason smiles. "Is that what they're calling me now. Should I then command you to 'know thyself'?" The response of the others tells him worlds... they actually recognize the reference to Delphi, and chuckle, being put at greater ease. Jason nods. "Very well... I am the Oracle, then. And you have questions," he murmurs. It's a statement, not a question.

Nadia looks at the others uncertainly. "We... we don't want to be a bother. We didn't... we thought you'd be... I mean, like the Others. Eternally young -- immortal," she finally says. Jason shakes his head, and further protest dies in her throat. "You have questions. I think sometimes the only reason I am still here is to guide others. But I came here, because only those that were willing to work for the answers would be worthy of them. You have made it here, and you stand before me. Please, sit and ask what you will. It will... please me, to be of service," he intones, his eyes bright as he stares at them.

The door opens again, then startlingly seems to grow, large and dark -- or is Jason shrinking? Someone's calling him, and he can smell the scent of freshly turned dirt. Curiously it's an oddly... encouraging scent, like spring and growing things, and he's enveloped in the door -- no, he flies through it, the rippling robe shed like an old skin. He can suddenly hear more clearly, although his vision has darkened -- it's a clear, happy barking calling him forward. Jason can't help but smile as the air caresses his hurtling body... the journey has not been the most fun, but it has been thought-provoking... besides, in the face of that joyful bark, he can't be mad at the pit bull for bringing him here.

He can see the white shape bounding along before him, occasionally turning to yarf! happily over its shoulder at him, as if urging him to hurry it up! Curiously, they appear to still be underground -- the pit bull practically dives into a hole, wriggling and scrabbling for a moment -- then popping out of sight! And with that, Jason realizes -- he's entirely in the dark. "Crap." He scratches his chin a moment... and then feels around in front of him, trying to find the hole the dog crawled through.

Feeling along the walls as he walks, Jason stubs his bare toes on something, and ow!s aloud -- then blinks and reaches down curiously as he tries to find whatever it is he found with his toes first. There's something... longish, like a rough wooden bat, perhaps... except the wood isn't at all smoothed, and the ends are splintered. There appears to be something metal next to it, too. Something of twisting wire, apparently. Jason hrmps. It's not the staff; the staff was smooth. He crouches down and takes the wood in one hand... and feels gently for the wire with the other, not gripping it, just touching it lightly. The wire thing is sort of finished feeling, doubling back on itself. It seems flexible, too. Jason follows the wire with his fingertips, to see if it touches the wood. "What is this thing?" he mutters.

It's not touching the wood. In fact, Jason vaguely recalls reading about... what were they called -- sparkers? You snapped the ends together, and they were steel tipped, and rasped across something... something that made a spark. Yes! That's what the wood's shape feels like, too -- either a classic Tarot club, or a torch. Jason's brow knits. "Okay, couldn't they have just given me a Maglite or something?" he mutters. His hands feel over the wood, trying to figure out which end would be lit... and then he feels for both ends of the 'sparker' and tries to light the wood.

The sparker works just fine -- Jason can see them each fly off, sharply brilliant in the darkness. Unfortunately the wood doesn't seem to want to light. It's as if there's nothing there to act like kindling... like cloth, or oil, or somesuch. Jason humphs, then checks to see if he's dressed. The way things have been going... no, he's still in his little white kilt or skirt. Well, it was white when he started... he can feel a few tattered edges, now that he thinks about it. Jason is not surprised, considering. He takes hold of one of the tattered edges; tries to tear off a couple strips. The cloth tears easily, actually -- he can feel it ripping all the way through the waistline, in fact. Jason groans. "Well... at least there's no one around to see," he murmurs, as he destroys his only clothing. But he now wraps the remains of his kilt around the wood, and tries to light that instead with the sparker.

It takes a little work... the first time makes a little flame. Then he tries again, and makes another -- and then a third. In seconds, he has light... not that impressive to start, but perhaps it will be more so. He takes hold of the other end, and lifts it slowly, trying to illuminate where he is. The torch gutters and smokes, and Jason has to be careful not to shake it or it sheds bits of burning cloth on him. However, he rapidly gets the hang of it and manages a long, slow look around himself.

He's not in the same place he started -- that's for sure. The tunnel isn't dirt any more -- it's low, dank, and of cold stone. He has to hunch his shoulders slightly to keep from brushing his head against the ceiling, and he's pretty sure the tunnel isn't any wider than maybe 3 feet across. Further, he seems to be in a dead end, with the tunnel stretching into darkness before him... there's a soft, almost sinister whisper of moving air, but aside from the crackle of the fire, that's it. In fact... he suspects the torch may not last too tremendously long either, now he thinks about it. Jason sighs. "I'm starting to get frustrated by the dog," he informs the torch. "And I also have to stop talking to inanimate objects."

Jason bends down, trying to find the hole that the dog supposedly crawled out before disappearing, while there's still light to see. There doesn't appear to be any hole nearby. It's not clear, in fact, how the dog could have wriggled through stone anyway. Jason hnhs, looking back. Even though he came that way, it's a dead end. Which doesn't surprise him that much, considering the circumstances, but... "Okay, so... onward, then," he murmurs, making his way carefully, trying to make the torch last and trying not to hit his head...

Jason walks forward carefully, the guttering torch a vivid reminder of the darkness pressing in all around him. The dank air is chilly against his bare skin, and the cold stone is a bit damp underfoot. He seems to walk for a very long time through the darkness. Finally the fading torch, which has been guttering and spitting fitfully for some time now... dies out.

"Great. I'm in an unknown cave -- naked, cold, dark," he says to the torch -- or to be more precise, the burnt stick. "On top of all that, maybe I could get a cold." He drops the torch, feels along the walls to help him get his bearings, and keeps going.

Nothing. The cave does not end. There is no light showing the way out. He's moving slowly, not just because it's cramped quarters, but because he doesn't feel like poking his eye out on a stalactite... not that there would be one in this cave, but who knows? The lack of light is already wrecking havoc on his unprotected body: bruised feet and toes, smacking his head on the ceiling. He has no idea how long it is, aching and tired, that he makes his way through the tunnel -- then he just falls to his knees, needing a moment to rest... and when he lifts his head, he blinks. Maybe he's just lightheaded from the herbs, or exertion, but he could swear he sees a small dot of light. After staring at it for a handful of seconds, he lurches into motion again, crawling towards it.

It seems to take forever, and his knees are getting bruised and painful... when he thinks he hears something too. Something... heavy? Something behind him. Jason boggles at what could be behind him. He doesn't bother to turn and look -- there's no light to see. So he just stops and listens, trying to figure out what it might be. The sound goes silent. Jason hmms. If it stops when he does, then at least it's not a huge boulder rolling towards him, Indiana Jones style. He starts moving again, but tilts his head to the side to keep listening for if it sounds like footsteps, or rolling, or stone sliding against stone.

The sound begins again. It's a sort of padding noise... but for some reason Jason gets the feeling it would have to be a very large something to have such a long stride?

Jason purses his lips. Stopping and confronting whatever it is would not be helpful, in his condition. It likely bears him no harm, seeing as it could have him for lunch right now. So he keeps going, a steady pace, trying not to wear himself out before getting out of the tunnel...

The padding continues, although it's nowhere as steady as he is. Sometimes it seems to pause a while... sometimes there's a soft gust of warm air from behind him which sounds disturbingly like quiet, almost malicious laughter. It's when the padding starts circling to his left that it registers -- how could anything circle in a tunnel?!

Jason must be getting tired, and dizzy. "Shut up," he says thickly at the laughter, irritated and pausing to breathe, taking a moment to rest aching muscles and feed his lungs. Then he starts crawling again, pulling himself closer to the light... if he's getting closer. "Not giving up," he murmurs thickly, drool escaping down his lower lip. The padding seems to be drawing slowly closer. On the other hand, the light does seem to be getting brighter as well. It looks... vaguely like a light bulb off in the distance? Jason has nothing witty to say in response to this revelation. He's saving all his energy for moving forward, barely putting together coherent thought as his muscles strain and tremble, stone digging into his hands and knees as he crawls along. At least like this he's not hitting his head any more.

And then... he's there. He can see the light bulb -- a simple light on a plain wooden door, standing alone there in the darkness. Curiously enough, being close to the light seems to energize him as well; he feels more human, and able to stand and walk again, despite his bruised knees and palms. In fact... where's the tunnel? Jason looks perplexed as he rises, rubbing his aching muscles and trying to figure out what happened as he looks around, then more closely at the door.

It's... a door. It looks like a regular nice wooden front door for someone's house. There's a door handle, and a little window in the upper half of the door, and the little light is gleaming brightly through it. It's standing there... in the middle of dark absolute nothing. Jason chuckles wryly. "Okay, sure... remove all options except to go through the door by ditching the cave," he murmurs, wiping his mouth. He grips the handle... but then stops and considers. He lets the handle go, and knocks instead.

The only sound is the knocking... and the quiet padding noise drawing closer from off to the left. Jason shrugs. "Just trying to be polite..." he murmurs, grabbing the handle and giving a tug.

The door rattles slightly. Jason groans, and tries pushing instead. The door swings easily inwards. Past it Jason can see... a tunnel. This one, at least, is warmer and better lit. Jason stares dumbly at the tunnel, with a merry little light bulb set into the rock, burning away. "Christ. More tunnel? Someone's got a sadistic sense of humor." He steps through, though, looking to either side.

The light bulb is actually more a dim glow than 'merry,' per se. The tunnel goes off to the left and right past the door, curving gently inwards as if it were part of a large circle. The floor is made up of unevenly laid stones or bricks, which will take a bit of focus to walk on without stubbing a toe or tripping. The walls are obviously unfinished -- the lathes can be seen through the spackling, and the bracing wooden joists are occasionally visible as well, extending partway out into the tunnel and holding things up sturdily overhead. The light bulb casts a little pool of visibility where Jason stands in the doorway... and behind Jason is the empty darkness. Actually, it's not that empty -- Jason can hear a soft, guttural cough out in the darkness, and the slow padding has turned into a heavy thunder as the thing, whatever it is, dashes forward.

Jason urks at the sound and reacts instinctively... that's no simple cough, like someone clearing their throat. Phyx made that noise when she was hunting. He grabs the door and swings it shut... the door clicks neatly shut, like a well-made front door... then a second later there's a heavy thud against it, causing it to rattle noticeably in its frame. A few bits of spackle flake away from the wall next to the frame, but aside from that and a low, heavy growl there's nothing else. Jason ahems. "Yes, yes, sorry, I can't stay... my granny's on fire, see..." he replies, backing away from the door. Sphynxes don't have hands... but this is not necessarily a sphinx -- and even if it is, some cats have learned how to open doors. He dashes down the corridor to the left.

Jason winces before taking half a dozen steps, having caught his foot on one of the brick slabs. "Fuck, ow, fuck, ow, who designed this tunnel..." he groans, hopping along a little, trying to keep going. The tunnel continues to arc gently around to Jason's right in a large circle. The puddle of light from the doorway eventually fades... but off in the distance it appears there's another puddle of light... from another light bulb perhaps? The floor's trickier in the dim spots in the middle, and that's where Jason tripped.

Jason limps along now in a jerky gaited hobble, tilting his injured foot up and away from the slabs, putting distance between himself and the door... there are no more sounds from the door -- in fact, Jason can't see it behind him any more. The air seems a touch cooler in the dimness between the light puddles, and the tunnel continues to curve gently to Jason's right. However, it's easy enough to reach the next pool of light... and to see it comes from a single naked bulb. It's screwed neatly into a standard white ceramic fixture, with a little pull chain hanging from it, just like the usual off-on tug-chain.

Jason stops curiously, staring at the fixture for a moment -- then he looks around, to see if there's anything else beside this odd bulb that's giving him the option to turn it off. He's very off balance now, with no idea what any of this is supposed to tell him, or to represent. The tunnel is in the same unfinished looking shape as when he first entered. It's almost as if Jason were in the crawlspace behind the walls of a house... except this 'crawl' space is large enough to walk easily in, and curves constantly to the right. It's about 3' wide, and maybe 8' high, above the sturdy ceiling joists. Jason scratches his chin; then, because he's the curious sort, makes sure he has a good grip on the pull chain, and gives it a tug. The chain obligingly descends and clicks in his hand -- and the light goes out. Darkness descends.

Jason looks around for a second to see if anything else happens. "Okay. I'm going to turn this light back on now. And I swear, if a monster appears when I do, I am going to knock all your teeth out before giving you indigestion. That's so Loony Tunes," he sternly informs the darkness -- then tugs the chain. There's another gentle, racheting click! -and once again there is light. The tunnel has not changed.

Jason huhs. "How odd. Okay. Moving on now." He once again starts down the corridor, walking gingerly -- seeing as he's not hearing any noises like doors being smashed in. The tunnel continues to curve gently towards Jason's right. The stone or brick floor remains a bit tricky to navigate... the walls remain rough, unfinished lathe-and-spackle... the large joists overhead are passed one after the other... and one after another Jason passes from pool of light to pool of light, each centered under another bare, simple light bulb.

Jason finally stops at one of those pools of light. "This is getting tedious. Plus, if this is really circular, I'm just going to end back up at the door," he murmurs thoughtfully. He turns to the right-hand wall and feels over it, wondering how sturdy it is -- but as he touches the spackle, something else occurs to him. He's been walking a while. He looks at the curve of the wall. If this really was circular, he should have already passed the door coming the other way. So... it's not a circle? It's a spiral? "This is damned confusing."

It occurs to Jason that if this is a spiral, it's the most subtle spiral ever. The curve hasn't changed whatsoever, in any direction... the tunnel simply continues to curve gently off to the right. Jason muses, "The Knossos labyrinth had a spiral aspect to it, but even that eventually turned and went back in the other direction." He starts walking again, counting off his paces to see how long this state of affairs continues. Jason counts his steps, passing from puddle of light to puddle of light...

Jason gets an idea, then. After counting how many paces there are between each pool of light, he stops and turns one light off. Then he keeps going, counting off paces. If it's a circle, then he will eventually come back to that same spot, which he'll know when he goes the requisite number of paces, and there is no light. And... so he does. Curiously, in the dim spaces between the lights, at one point he could swear he feels wood instead of stone... yet looking down, the stone is easily visible. But eventually he walks the full circle, and can see before him the darkness of the turned-off light. No door. No windows. Nothing but the unfinished wall on each side.

Jason groans. "Okay, so I am stuck in a circle," he mutters. "Bravo." He then stares at the stone blocks -- and wonders if he can pry one up. He crouches, trying to dig in his fingers to do exactly that... and quickly discovers the bricks are packed too tightly. Jason sighs and thinks for a bit, then he looks up, wondering if he can reach a crossbeam. Maybe he can get out through the ceiling? He could probably clamber up there, with a bit of effort. Jason turns the light back on, and studies the beam. Then, bending his legs, he makes a leap for it.

Jason groans and grunts as he hoists himself. He's glad he's in better shape than he was, or he'd never get up there. But finally he's on the beam... it's a big beam too, about six feet wide. He then reaches up and feels the ceiling, to see how sturdy that is. It's above him by about 3 or 4 feet, and of a rough and unfinished stone. Above the light like this, the stone is cool and shadowed. Curiously, this entire setup smacks of... of surreality, of dreams, even. It's as if ordinary means of thinking are not sufficient when they run smack up against the supernatural. Jason's brow knits, and he stares at the stone. Okay, so... doors don't just disappear. This is a dream. A quest. Whatever you want to call it. But what are the rules of quests, if natural laws don't apply? He chews on his lip. "Get out of the way," he snarls at the ceiling, looking expectantly at the stone.

There's a ripple in the shadow for a moment, as if the light bulb were swaying a bit -- and yet, it's absolutely still. Jason hmms, then closes his eyes. He pictures the door he saw earlier, in his mind. The cut of it, the way it looked in the light. The look and feel of the handle. "There will be a door here, in the ceiling, when I open my eyes," he says firmly to himself. "There will. I will open it and climb out." He opens his eyes.

Indeed, there's the door, lying flush with the ceiling. The little light bulb glows through the small window in the upper half of the door. It occurs to Jason, however, that the door is a bit out of current reach of any of the joists! His ability to place precisely seems to need a bit of work still. Jason still smiles. He doesn't even close his eyes this time as he stares at the 'floor' of the crossbeam. "Stepladder," he says.

A small A-frame ladder appears, maybe about 2 feet high. Jason chuckles and slowly climbs the ladder. He's not worried about falling. He's not going to -- he knows this. Standing on the next to last step, he grips the handle of the door and twists, pushing it open. Air and light rush in, fresh and dazzling. The wind ruffles Jason's hair playfully, and he looks up at the sky. It's a beautiful day! Jason chuckles and takes the last step, and climbs out of the hole. "And what's this supposed to show me, hmm? That anything I truly believe, I can make happen?" he queries at the sky, grinning his brains out. He looks down and smoothes his hands over a fresh shirt and a pair of jeans. He's tired of being naked. It has its place, but not right now.

The jeans are his most comfortable, well-worn pair, and he's wearing comfortable walking shoes also. Around him is the open sky, and he's standing on a small metal platform about 10' across, with a graceful wrought-iron railing circling it. On the side opposite from where he's come out is a little gate in the railing, with a small sign posted next to it. Posted on the sign are the words, "Mind your head."

Jason blinks at the non-sequitor sign, and looks up. Sky. Bright, beautiful, blue sky. Big, lovely, puffy clouds. Jason looks back down, and crouches next to the sign. "Mind my head on what?" he asks the sign -- this time expecting an answer.

As Jason looks down, he realizes there's something on the horizon which he can see. The sign does not answer, and the gate has no lock on it. Jason hmmphs. "So much for 'anything,'" he mutters, peering at what's on the horizon, opening the gate but not going through, just testing it.

The gate swings open easily. Past it is... open air. The drop is breath-taking -- there's nothing at all directly below the small metal platform Jason's standing on. It appears to be floating there, hundreds and hundreds of feet above the ground. Jason hmms. "Seems to me I should be minding my feet instead," he murmurs. He closes the gate. He feels more bemused than afraid. "Why would there be a gate that opens to nothing but a long drop. The railing, I get. But a gate? Is that meant to be some sort of polite gesture towards the suicidal?" He looks at the sign again, curious if it offers any insight.

The sign remains precisely as it was before. The gate clicks neatly closed. The wind whispers softly past... Jason still stands on the little metal platform. There doesn't appear to be a doorway down anymore, though... just some metal stairs going down with the metal railing continuing next to them. Jason hmms. "Okay, a way down -- that's helpful." He looks at the dot on the horizon again.

Actually, now he's looking Jason can tell this is not a dot on the horizon. Below him spreads... is that the earth? It looks somehow... different. Not exactly wrong bad really... but... wrong. Yes. It doesn't look like the earth from an airplane. Jason hmms. "Only way to find out for certain is to check it out," he muses. Going to the staircase, he grips the railing firmly as he starts down the steps, wondering what he'll find.

The stairs go down in a tight circle around a metal supporting pillar. As Jason's head starts to descend below the level of the platform, he has a sudden thought: what if travel to areas like this, in dream sequences, is one-way? What if he can't return here? Jason's brow creases. Then again, why would he want to return here? What exactly is there here for him to learn? He goes back up and studies the platform and the surrounding sky. All there seems to be is a cryptic sign and a gate inviting him to a long fall. The sky remains lovely and inviting. The platform is solid and steady under him. Behind him, the stairs lead down and out of sight. Below him is a land he's not really examined at all closely.

Jason's lips purse. If he's not meant to go down, then why is the staircase there? Matter of fact, why was that circular prison there? What does any of this mean? He tries to study the ground more seriously from his perch. The land below him lies far, far below -- it's hard to see clearly. He stares for a while, determinedly... and eventually it hits him that there's a pattern to what he's seeing. Over there to the north there lies a great sprawling icy swath, while to the south the land spreads out, narrowing at one point to almost nothing... then widening into yet more land, tipped in white again. Circling off to his right, which would seem to be eastwards, is a wide, shifting expanse of water -- then past it yet more landmasses, heaving upwards in geologic restlessness. To the west, however, the land ends fairly rapidly, leaving water -- everywhere there appears to be water in that direction!

Jason considers what he sees with a knit brow. It's odd, surely, but what has it told him? Not very much, that he can determine. Is there an arrow pointing from North to South? And if so, why? Jason stares at the land and water formation for a very long time. He knows there's some significance to it, but it's not quite catching in his head. Finally he sees it. Again, it takes some adjusting of his expectations, this being a dream and all. He understood more quickly than the rest that this is, in fact, still the Earth he knows. But the reason it looks so odd is that he's so high he can't see the entire continent he's supposedly 'above.' The other reason is that this image of the Earth... well, it's not round. It's flat. That gives him a turn.

Staring down at the dim terrain so very, very far below, eventually Jason notices something... odd. He's not sure, but there seem to be... little search lights or beacons moving around down there occasionally. It is, in fact, just as he's having that 'turn' at realizing the earth lies flat below him -- that he notices something else very strange -- there's at least one of the tiny spotlights down there that's turned upwards!

Jason just stares at the light, feeling very confused. While he's certainly capable of thinking outside the box, of abstract thought, his literal mind is having a hard time wrapping around the physical incongruity of what he's seeing. He pushes that aside, though: it doesn't appear to be helping. What is important is how does one interpret what he's seeing? The flat earth might be relatively simple to explain: in the mythic world, many cultures believed the earth was flat. Granted, there were some cultures that were disabused of that notion before the Age of Reason and Columbus, even before Eric the Red and Leif Erickson. Still, that would seem to be a logical explanation. But searchlights? Who is looking, and what are they looking for? He stares at the light a while longer, wondering if it's 'found' him.

The little spotlights aren't very common -- he can see no more than a handful of them, and it takes staring at a region for a while to notice them. There are a few in the landmass below him... at least one appears to be slowly surging through the Pacific Ocean off to his left... another handful are scattered across the various landmasses off to his right. It's as he's studying the one or two upward pointing ones that he notices... there's one pointing down as well -- and it's orienting from him. Jason is bemused a moment, seeing that he's giving off light. But once he accepts that, it makes his understanding of the other lights easy. "Other supernaturals," he murmurs thoughtfully. "I wonder what the one in the sea, is... a dragon, or the giant turtle that's supposed to be holding up the world? As he says that, the gate swings open with a small creak, then remains swaying gently in the slight wind.

Jason is comforted more now he has a better grip on things. Well, everything besides the sign that says 'watch your head'... the sign that gets his very attention when the gate swings open. "What do you want?" he queries the gate, coming back over to lock it instinctively... it's not as if there's a danger of anyone else falling over the edge, but still.

The neatly lettered sign next to the gate looks different; it now says, "Enjoy take off." Jason stares at the sign. "Take off... is there a jet somewhere around?" He looks bemusedly around him. The gate creaks gently in the wind.

Jason scratches his chin thoughtfully. Then, as a test, he closes his eyes and pictures himself hovering a foot above it -- then opens them and checks. He fights the impulse to wobble to regain his balance when he finds his mind has once again proven master of his environment. "Okay..." he mumbles, feeling a little sheepish. "I guess... stay confident and I'll fly like a bird..." It does not seem clear to him which way to go, at first -- and then, because the gate is there, he flies slowly in that direction, looking at the ground below -- as that would appear to be where all the action is.

The sensation is, if anything, even more dream-like... he drifts over to the gate, then past it. For a heart-stopping moment there's a sudden drop -- then, just before the urge to scream and flail hits, he swoops upwards on the wind, zooming almost effortlessly until he realizes he's just done a complete vertical circle -- and now he's spinning easily back towards the earth far below him. The wind whistles past his face, shaking his clothes and pasting his hair back from his face -- it's extraordinarily freeing! Jason doesn't quite giggle, but he does smile, letting the wind take him a little, but trying to keep bearing east as he glides through the air. He has a burning curiosity as to what he might find there, being that it might be a very long time before he's able to cross over to that side of the world. He wonders how many lights are present in the Eastern Hemisphere.

The little spotlights seem increasingly bright in the dimmer realms he's flying into, and he realizes the sun is setting in the west as he flies. Curiously, the spotlights seem to roughly cluster (as in there's more than a single spotlight in any huge distance) around two general areas of the flat earth. One of them is the area he was... the other appears to be... somewhere in the Indian subcontinent? Further east? Jason muses on that a while, thoughtful. He remembers reading somewhere that unlike most of the developed world -- where the predominant religions are still the monotheistic religions like Islam, Christianity, and Judaism -- much of India still holds onto Hinduism, with a complex pantheon composed of gods like Ganesha, Shiva, Kali. Perhaps in that part of the world, where the old ways are so very much alive, supernaturals have flocked there for sanctuary, because people there still respect their mythic creations? It's a fascinating thought. He dives ever closer.

A spotlight or two flashes in the African continent, and he thinks he notices a very few more scattered across the Northern Asian continent. There's a handful of them in a relatively small area, though, covering what he'd guess to be India, maybe parts of China? He's not real 'up' on the geography of the area, but the clustering effect is very much like the one on the North American continent. Jason focuses on India, trying to go faster. This would appear to be an opportunity, one he cannot pass up. While he's not entirely certain how far he can go in this dream world, or what he can learn -- much less where he's learning it from, being that this is the first time this quest has led him outside his own mind -- if there's a chance that supernaturals on the other side of the world can offer insight the ones he might meet in his own back yard can't, he must seize it. As he gets closer, he pays attention to those that appear to be in India, wondering how far apart they will be once he gets near enough to tell...

As Jason swoops curiously downwards, he notices there's actually one of the very rare spotlights on the continent which is aimed upwards. Even as he notices that it swings around, seemingly 'watching' his downward-turned spotlight. Jason had forgotten he was beaming like a big Batman signal. But, buoyed by the attention of that light, he dives towards it, relishing in the speed, in the wind whipping over his body. He grins madly: this is the only opportunity he will ever have to fly. Not even being carried by a winged Diana would compare to this.

As he gets nearer he realizes several things: first, this spotlight is probably more in China than in India. Second, it seems to be getting... a reddish tinge to it? And thirdly... he's going incredibly fast. He's starting to get really warm, in fact. Jason's brow knits. Is he somehow experiencing 're-entry' friction? It's not as if he's having trouble breathing. He tries to slow down, to see if that helps, but getting a worried look as he watches that light turn blood red... he realizes he's not actually slowing down. If anything, it feels somewhat like the spotlight is pulling him in more and more swiftly, and the reddish tinge is darkening around him. He can feel something huge, ancient, and powerful -- almost imperious -- demanding his presence. There's an almost... hungry feel to it... the heat is truly uncomfortable at this point.

Jason is alarmed, but trying not to panic... he should have guessed this. He was told not all supernaturals would greet him the same way. Plus, on a different continent, with different values, different peoples, different beliefs... there is perhaps a greater likelihood the creatures -- or even gods -- there might enjoy more power than some do in far more skeptical North America. He focuses, trying to fly not directly opposing whatever force is pulling him in -- which is to say up -- but instead back west and level, away from it.

Jason is almost shocked by how well the plan succeeds. Perhaps whatever it is was too overconfident, and he slipped right out of its grasp? Whatever it was, he zooms West, seeking distance without wanting to get too much higher... and at the same time, he tries to see if he can't dim the light he's giving off, to hide himself from view of that malevolent force... there's a fiery burst of anger beneath him, the spotlight swinging slowly about as he slips out of its illumination. Even as he notices that, though, there's a sudden gust of wind -- or something, which sends him tumbling madly, spinning giddily downwards -- or is it upwards? He's feeling rather disoriented, and it's quite dark... but he can hear faint barking ahead of him, and a dim, friendly light at the end of a long, dark tunnel...

Jason urghs at the change in venue... but then again, he's not disappointed from being rescued from whatever that was. He makes a promise to himself to never go there without some backup -- like maybe a dragon! -and a titan. And maybe the Midgard Serpent and Thor.

Jason tries to right himself... he's still not entirely certain if he's going up, down, or sideways, but he focuses on that light, and the barking of his happy canine guide. "What are you supposed to represent, boy? I know you're not Fenris..." There's a bone-jarring thud that resonates through Jason's body, and for a moment the light is disturbingly bright, causing him to squint. The big, angular, dirty-white face of his canine friend seems to be looming in on him... he blinks, his eyes watering as paws land on his front, and a familiar voice purrs happily, "You're awake! I can tell -- what did you see? Tell!" A long curl tickles his nose, and Phynx peers intently into his face from startlingly close!

Jason gahs! as Phyx suddenly looms large in his face, his hands lifting protectively -- and then he realizes who it is, and grins sheepishly. "I... rggh. Sorry. You didn't see? You breathed the same smoke as me..." he queries, squinting in the light.

The sphynx snorts amusedly, settling down so she's lying half across Jason's chest, "Silly boy. Why would I go on your dreamquest?"

Jason looks askance. "Curiosity. Or maybe you just thought interrogating me would be more fun..." he chuckles, relieved he's not crushed by the large sphynx. He looks around, wondering if the nameless bulldog is still there...

Phyx raises an eyebrow, then flexes her front paws, and several little pinpricks remind Jason to focus! "Ahem! Do you want interpretation or not, pretty toy?!" Jason erks, as he's also reminded he's still in just the skirt -- not that a shirt would protect against those claws. He begins at the beginning, skipping nothing, including his own thoughts about his insights about the Cave of Self, though his opinions of the events just after are far more sketchy, far less comprehending of what they represent -- then on to the journey in the cave, the strange beast stalking him; and then the tower, and the malevolent light trying to pull him in somewhere on the subcontinent. Phyx nods thoughtfully, listening to the events of the Cave of the Self, "Sounds like a good tarot spread for you, pretty. Excellent. Did you have any questions about it?"

Jason blinks bemusedly. "Tarot spread? What do you mean?" he queries, confused. He mulls over that a second... it's been a while since he did any tarot. The cave was four events, and the scenes after were also four. Aren't the simplest readings centered around four cards? Or is there one that has eight cards... "Are you talking about the past and future scenes, or the ones after? Or both?"

Phyx grins cheerfully down at Jason, her canines showing, "Symbolism exists in everything in dreamquests, pretty thing. Your underground cave, where you kept getting lashed with roots? What do you suppose that was? And the rod you held-" she grins again, licking her lips slowly before adding, "-didn't you catch that one, young page?"

Jason's brow knits. "I don't know. At the time I joked about self-flagellation... maybe it wasn't so far off the mark. And the rod... the suit of wands, maybe?" he queries uncertainly. "To be honest, I hadn't even thought of tarot as a possibility..."

Phyx chuckles, settling a bit more so she can rest her chin on her crossed front paws, on Jason's chest, "Silly boy. What are they teaching in schools nowadays?" In a startling change of subject, she adds cheerfully, "Are you hungry, pet?"

Jason snickers. "They're not teaching tarot, I'll tell you that... we're still a nation 'under God,' remember." He looks thoughtful, and then his stomach growls and he blinks. "Damn. I guess I am. How long has it been?"

Phyx raises her head, giving a purring call, and Jason realizes a few things. One, he's lying in a bed in a nice looking hotel room; two, the scent of something delicious precedes the entry of a small gaggle of cheerful pretty young people bearing food. The sphynx rises, stepping neatly over him to sit at the end of the bed, watching Jason unblinkingly. The tray of food is placed on the bedside table, and one of the boys smiles, "Do you need help eating, or would you rather feed yourself?"

Jason still looks a little fuzzy. "Uh... no, no, I can eat myself," he murmurs, embarrassed by the idea of someone else feeding him -- unless it's a sensual play with a lover, of course. He looks back at Phyx, bemused. "How long?" he queries again. "Surely not more than a day..."

Phyx chuckles quietly again, then purrs lazily, "Eat, pet. Talk when you get your strength back."

Jason barks a laugh. "No, no, please... I can talk and eat at the same time. Well... okay, not really, but you know what I mean. If you can interpret some of this, I want to know! Now, I mean... okay, maybe the second scene was the Magician, and the fourth was The Hermit, but I just get that from the imagery. What does it mean? And was the Cave of Self also part of the Tarot? What was that, the Wheel of Fortune?"

Phyx shakes her head slowly, smiling, "So dramatic. Pet, do you know the classic, easy tarot layout? It starts with two crossed cards, then four more around that -- recent past, distant past, best outcome, immediate future -- and then four more down the right-hand side, which culminate with the final outcome?"

Jason looks startled. "Wait, wait, backup... immediate future? You're kidding me! That thing with the dirty harpy witch is going to come true?" he protests.

Phyx tilts her head thoughtfully, "Do you want it to?"

Jason looks aghast. "No! In that scene, there was every evidence that I'd lead Mike and Diana to their deaths!"

Phyx smiles again, her slitted cat-eyes observing Jason thoughtfully, "Then don't you think a good dreamquest is an excellent wake-up call, sweet pet?"

Jason's brow knits. "I'm confused. You're suggesting that whole thing wasn't writ in stone; that something I do or don't do could lead to those events, or something like them? I don't suppose you can tell me what that is?"

Phyx tilts her head amusedly at Jason, "Sweet pet, do you truly want to give up your free will to me, for my instruction?"

Jason grimaces. "No, I don't... but how can I change something if I don't know what it is?" he murmurs. "What good does a dreamquest do if it shows me consequences, but no advice on how to change my fate? That leaves me in a worse state than before. Means I'm going to second guess everything I do."

Phyx laughs softly, "Ah, a materialist! You want everything clear and straightforward? Alas, dealing with supernaturals is, in and of itself, non-material." She smiles knowingly, "Tis called a dreamquest, little one -- not a mapquest!"

Jason sighs and scratches the back of his head. "Maybe I do like my equations linear, as it were. But there is an issue at stake. With any obstacle, I would proceed the same way I always have: asking for advice and assistance, using logic, common sense, and intuition. Being true to myself has been enormously helpful in seeing me through this mess. And now this ephemeral divination comes along, and suggests that might not be enough. It suggests that in spite of my best efforts, I'm going to fail if I keep on this journey. I'm not going to let that happen. I'm not going to knowingly walk into doom, with Diana and Mike's lives at stake. I'll stay here in Vegas or turn right back around and march back to California before I let that happen," he growls fervently.

Phyx rolls her eyes and sighs, then smiles amusedly at Jason again, "Always the worst possible interpretation too, eh?"

Jason's brow creases at Phyx's reaction. "What, you're suggesting it might not be as bad as it suggests? I'm trying to take this seriously. Wherever this divination came from, it's my position -- and yours too, from what you said -- that this should not be ignored. Are you just saying that it's something I'll have to face, but that isn't the end of the road?"

Phyx settles down comfortably, crossing her front paws, and murmurs firmly, "Eat. Talk later, oh extreme one."

Jason looks frustrated, but knows better than to press the issue with that tone in Phyx's voice. He's still confused: she asked if he wanted interpretation, and then refuses to interpret -- all because he's agitated. He doesn't understand. Thankfully, his belly is far more elemental, and loudly demands food. So he starts to eat. Phyx's eyes drift half-closed, and she purrs contentedly as Jason eats. Jason tries to relax as he eats. Whatever's going to happen, it's not happening now. 'Immediate future' is not that immediate. So, eat. As he does, he mulls over the other scenes to see if he can glean more insight, but it doesn't come to him. The archetypes in The Magician and The Hermit were clear, but the others were not so... they could be anything from number cards to face cards, aces, or even Trumps he's not familiar with. He also remembers Phyx called him 'page'... does that mean one of the two starting cards was the Page of Wands? Great, but he has no idea what that signifies. As he's eating he looks around, wondering if there's a bell or something. He needs a book or a computer.

Phyx murmurs, without opening her eyes at all, "What do you seek, pet?"

Jason hmmphs? as he looks up with his mouth full. "I need a book on the Rider-Waite Tarot. I want to look something up," he replies after he swallows.

Phyx tchs, "Silly child. You sit with an embodiment of Strength, and you want a book?!"

Jason is puzzled by that a moment, and then an inkling of memory touches him... in several tarot decks, including Rider-Waite, the Strength trump is signified by a lion, and sometimes a woman as well. He starts to argue, but then shuts up. She's only going to offer him her wisdom if he can quell his own fears. "Why am I the Page of Wands?" he asks calmly instead.

Phyx grins, her slitted golden eyes opening, "What does the Page signify?"

Jason looks rueful. "That's why I wanted the book. I don't know."

Phyx blinks -- then laughs, tossing her head back, "Oh, pet! Gracious, you weren't jesting. All right then." She grins mischievously, tilting her head at Jason, "But what do I get in return, sweet pet, for interpreting for you?"

Jason looks at Phyx. She's being a cat again, he thinks to himself, remembering Kira's reaction. "Hey now, I thought we'd already bargained and bartered for serviced rendered," he reminds the cat with an arch look. Having said that, he looks around. "Have someone get me a brush, and I'll comb your fur," he offers with a smile.

Phyx snorts amusedly, her tone dry, "You're going to do that anyways, pretty. You've still got over a week in my service."

Jason considers. "You breathed in the vapors too, Phyx. What happened to you? You interpret my experience, I'll interpret yours," he suggests.

Phyx sighs quietly, "You're avoiding, pet. I already told you I did not dreamquest." She rises, bounding lightly off the bed and pacing to the door. Over her shoulder she murmurs, "When you finish eating, come find me."

Jason blinks, confused. "I'm not trying to avoid, Phyx -- I misunderstood! I thought you just said you didn't participate in my dreamquest!" he protests. "It was meant to be a valid offer. We all need a prism to help us understand our own psyches."

Phyx glances amusedly over her shoulder, "Little one, how long do you think I've been doing this?"

Jason only concedes the point with an inclination of the head. He's not about to argue with an immortal creature that they might somehow be just as subject to the same mental foibles as humans -- especially if it's true. "What would you like me to do for you? I'm not sure what you want above and beyond the obvious," he queries instead.

Phyx actually pauses in her pacing towards the door, one front paw still curled upraised, to regard Jason with quiet wonder. Finally she says, "Child... you were on a dreamquest -- use your imagination!" She smiles... then slips out the door.

Jason rolls his eyes heavenward. "She can't just be a cat. She has to be a sphynx too," he murmurs around a mouthful of apple. But he sits and thinks, mulling over his food. He scratches his brow with an unpeeled banana, trying to give this serious thought. Something aside from the obvious; she said use his imagination. "Can't paint... can't sculpt." She also called him a materialist. "Something not material?"

Jason sits in silence for a time, trying to organize his thoughts. One of the first things that comes to mind is suddenly an explanation for why Phyx was so bemused at his aghast reaction earlier: he had forgotten that Tarot never actually foretells events. To be more specific, it tends to warn of dangers -- dangers as concepts even, not as people or sources. Now granted... the use of tarot in the old days, in the days of mythology -- maybe there was more of a mystical element to it. But in this day and age, tarot tends to depend far more on simple intuition. So it's fair to suggest his dreamquest was warning him more of concepts -- and dangers -- present in his own psyche. That's what Phyx had meant -- if the dreamquest has made him aware of a potential flaw, he can guard against it. It's an obstacle, not a certainty.

Another thing he remembers is one can usually tell the meaning of the number cards in tarot by the images on the cards; the face cards and Major Arcana not so much, but the number cards definitely. Which still doesn't help if he doesn't have a deck. Still, he dredges at his memory to try in fill in the holes. Readings have ten cards: two at start, then a set of four, then another set of four. One of the cards at start would seem to be Page of Wands, as Phyx had intimated. The other could be anything... perhaps the Four of Wands, because it was four wooden roots hitting him. Four of Swords, because they were hurting him -- or maybe something entirely different. The scene with Mr. Washburn... he guesses his old teacher was the Heirophant, since that card was supposed to symbolize a wise teacher. And of the last four, the Magician and the Hermit were evident, though he doesn't know what either mean in tarot.

As he mulls this all out, his thoughts turn again to Phyx, and how to approach her. The natural inclination he comes to is to perform for her. Sing a song, most likely. Surely he knows one that she would appreciate, one that could praise her. But as he goes down the list of songs he knows by heart, he finds none that he thinks would accurately depict her lyrically. Then a spark of inspiration hits him. Fumbling around, he manages to find a hotel pen and pad of paper and starts scribbling. The first half of the poem comes out quickly, and the second half he hems over, turning over several ideas in his head before putting it to paper. This is an expression of himself: he wants to get it right. He continues nibbles as he writes, until he's got something he's more or less satisfied with. He then starts looking around for clothing.

Another kilt is found by the bed, and -- unexpectedly -- there's also a laptop. Where he was going to immediately dash off, he suddenly finds himself with another useful tool. Seconds later, he's got a site he can use on the Tarot. First he looks up the Page of Wands, which delivers a great deal of useful information. The four base actions associated with the page: Be Creative, Be Enthusiastic, Be Confident, and Be Courageous, all of those are relevant both to him and to his situation. No question now why that's one of the starting cards.

It's then that he realizes he smells like sweat, and his hair is oily. Cats having sensitive noses and all, he figures he should bathe before going to Phyx. He takes a quick shower, and then wraps himself in clean towels before continuing his research. The Four of Wands and Swords don't seem to completely match his starting situation -- depending on what the starting point is. Is it before Diana, or right here and now? The concept in Four of Wands associating with Freedom -- more specifically, opening to new possibilities and claiming self determination -- that has the ring of truth to it. More thought is needed there. He briefly reviews some of the other major Arcana... the scene with the ugly harpy woman could be the Tower, the Moon, the Devil, or something else.

Things start to click, then. The part of the quest where he went to the Vatican -- that seems more like the Blasted Tower, what with connotations of being humbled, or experiencing a fall in both fortune and pride. That actually meshes well with the potential previous card, the Magician. That card is all about taking action, making an impact, focusing on a goal. The Tower would seem to be warning him of being too single-minded in that endeavor. It also may be that this fall is not entirely avoidable... a fall might surely pave the way for the Hermit, who in many ways is the opposite of the Magician. Instead of turning outward and affecting the world, the Hermit turns inward, seeking answers within, and offering guidance to others -- which is not an entirely good thing, either, as it can suggest 'withdrawing from the world.'

Jason sits for some time, looking at other cards and their meanings thoughtfully. It does occur to him at one point that perhaps he shouldn't focus too hard on identifying every card. It just so happens that his quest linked with the tarot -- if it did not, well, it would behoove him to merely interpret the scenes within what they told him in and of themselves, wouldn't it? Of course the scenes, just like the cards, can be ambiguous. The one with the vampiric Diana could be warning him against misunderstanding agreements, misunderstanding relationships, looking at the surface and not the deeper meaning... this is why he needs Phyx. But can Phyx even tell him that? Maybe that's not even the point. Maybe it's not an either/or. Maybe they all have relevance. The only problem is, if they all have relevance, then it gets to a point where the experience has told him nothing at all!

Jason quickly pushes beyond those thoughts, though. That way lies helplessness, and being overcome by fear. Clearly all he needs to do is approach Phyx the right way, and make it clear that all he wants is a nudge in the right direction. He can figure this out on his own. But, to use chess as a metaphor, he can't play the game if he doesn't even know how the pieces can move. He dresses then and, armed with his literary creation, goes out to try and find Phyx. Jason opens the door, seeing a nice suite beyond. There's a large and well-appointed desk, with an attractive girl working there. She looks up and smiles, "Hello there. Need anything?"

Jason blinks in startlement. He looks back into the room behind him. Yes, it's still a bedroom. Then he swivels his head back. "Uhm... the Lady?" he queries, as he realizes it's not actually an office space he's walked into -- just one woman at a desk inside a hotel room.

She's still smiling as she waves a hand towards the door, "Take the elevator down. She's in the Garden." As she turns back to her work she cheerfully adds, "Good luck!"

Jason smiles. "Naw. I don't want to use it all. Someone else might need it," he replies as he hops into the elevator, and looks for a button that says 'Garden,' or maybe G. There's a quiet chuckle from the girl. The elevator call buttons show only up or down buttons, but when Jason presses the down button an elevator quickly arrives. Inside the elevator there are only a few buttons, none of which contain floor numbers. There appear to be a matched set, though, which iconically indicate 'door open' and 'door closed.' It's as he's studying them that the sleek metal door starts to silently slide closed.

Jason is confused for a moment... there's a button for up, and one for down, along with the open/close buttons. No indication of what floor to stop on. But then he takes a bit of wisdom from his dreamquest: this elevator would not appear to function the same as normal ones, with direct input/output. So maybe there's some mental imaging involved. The woman said 'down', so he pushes the down button, with every expectation of ending up at the jungle. The gleaming doors continue to slide silently closed, and a moment later Jason can feel the elevator's controlled fall. After a while it slows, gently drawing to a halt, and the doors slide silently open. Jason can see the thick, steamy jungle before him, and the little path leading to the gazebo.

As he walks along he spots Phyx lying sprawled out on her back in the sunshine, utterly relaxed and apparently asleep. Jason tries not to giggle at the sight of Phyx being utterly cattish. He just stares at her for some time, before he remembers he was there for a reason. Jason clears his throat briefly, figuring it won't take much to get the audio attention of a cat, and brandishes his poem before starting to read:

Phyx twitches slightly, then yawns hugely, her front and hind feet stretching out forward and behind. As Jason speaks she opens her eyes slightly, raising one front paw and absorbedly licking it.

The lithe sphynx listens silently... then when Jason is done she rolls over lazily onto her side, a smile curling up her lips. She murmurs relaxedly, "Come here, lovely pet," patting the ground next to her with one paw. Jason obediently goes over and sits, his expression hopeful. She seems to have liked it. Phyx chuckles lazily, reaching up to draw Jason down next to her. She rests one forearm and her chin on him, purring contentedly, and he can catch her musky scent, warm in the sunshine. She simply lies there for a few minutes, then relaxedly licks his arm a few times before she purrs, "Lovely pet... did you write that for me?"

Jason blushes. "Yeah, I... I'm not really a poet. But the words just kind of came to me." he explains, and bites back an impulse to further disparage himself. One can be humble without being derogatory.

Phyx chuckles quietly again, purring with great pleasure. Finally, she murmurs, "Very, very sweet, lovely. So... you had some questions for me, mmm?"

Jason nods, trying to pick his first question carefully. "Do you think it would help me to know what cards you think every scene represents?"

Phyx is silent for a moment, then she muses thoughtfully, "Would you feel the need to interpret the cards literally, pet, if you knew them?"

Jason's brow knits. "I feel like I need some sort of help with some of the scenes. Some of them suggest at a specific card, but with no other indication of what the scene actually means. Some of them are intense, but ambiguous. I need some kind of starting place to begin. Could you at least start by explaining the placement of a ten card reading?"

Phyx makes a small, purring, "prrut?" noise, then murmurs a moment later, "How do you mean, pretty toy?"

Jason says, "I know that there are ten cards. What I don't know is why. What is each draw supposed to represent?"

"Ah!" Phyx is silent a moment, then lifts her paw and chin, nodding towards the little pedestal they played chess on. "Look for the compartment at the bottom, pretty. Bring me the silk bag you find in there. While considering your question, shuffle and draw."

Jason blinks... another reading? But he doesn't question. He goes to the pedestal, and withdraws the silk bag, bringing it back to Phyx. "I should open it?" he queries, remembering she doesn't have normal hands.

Phyx smiles, tilting her head at Jason, "Sit first, sweet pet." She rises, standing on all fours and waiting for him to seat himself. Jason sits immediately, wondering how this is going to work. The sphynx relaxedly steps over and settles across Jason's lap, still purring. "Now... think about your question that you asked for your dreamquest... while you're thinking about it, take out the cards, shuffle, and deal. You know the layout, yes?"

Jason's brow knits. "Uh... two crossed in center, four in a circle around... and then four underneath in a line?"

The sphynx shakes her head, then smiles, gesturing with a paw, "Follow my directions on the layout then, pet. First pull the Page of Wands and lay it down, then meditate and shuffle. Let me know when you're ready."

Jason removes the cards and leafs through for the Page, and pulls it out. Though he already knows what is on the deck from the Internet, it still makes him smile... the 'wand' is the same rough-cut stick that he held in his dream. Then he starts shuffling. It takes him a moment to remember the question, and when he does, the quest is put in more understandable relief. Some of the reading is meant to focus on what he is now, and some of it meant to suggest at the path his life will take, how he will grow. Jason closes his eyes as he shuffles, cutting the deck a couple times, and then holds it in his hand. "Okay."

The sphynx murmurs, "Your Present is the Page of Wands, as you see. Crossing you is your Immediate Challenge, which is both reversed and not reversed." She waves a paw below the Page of Wands, "Your Recent Past or Subconscious, depending on your mental state, goes here. To the left of you," she pats her paw lightly to the left of the central card, "is your Past, either distant or current. Above you is your Best Outcome or your Conscious mind -- again, depending on your mental state with your query. And finally, to the right of you," again her paw pats the ground lightly, this time to the right of the central card, "there is your Future, which is either immediate or soon to come, as you interpret it."

Jason places cards as Phyx directly, hardly seeing them till he has... but then he blinks at them. Immediate Challenge is Seven of Wands, recent past is Ace of Pentacles, distant past is King of Pentacles, Best outcome is King of Swords, and Future is Nine of Cups, reversed. That gives him pause, but it does, to some extent, make sense. Pentacles often represent wealth of some kind (that suit is sometimes called 'Coins' instead), which would fit with Diana going over her books. It would also fit with Mr. Washburn, whom he identified as successful -- maybe not wealthy, but still successful. King of Swords also seems to make sense, as the virtues of that King are ones that easily fit in with his concept of being a teacher. He wants to ask further, but holds his tongue till Phyx is done, not wanting to break up the flow as he wracks his brain, trying to remember those other two number cards.

Phyx lazily squirms a bit, adjusting Jason's lap to her comfort. She purrs for a few moments, alertly studying the cards, then nods once. "Very good, sweet morsel. Now the last four." She pats the ground lightly to the right of the cross-layout of cards, "In order, we will have the Factors Affecting the Situation or Querent; above that, the External Influences and Environment, above that, Hopes and Fears, and lastly, the Final Outcome. Lay them out, sweet, and let's have a look!" Jason lays out the last four: Eight of Pentacles reversed, The Empress, Ten of Cups reversed, and culminating in the Hermit. It's a relief to not get the Blasted Tower, but these cards are different than expected. He studies the layout, brow knitting. Phyx rest her chin on Jason's knee, her eyes going half closed as she purrs quietly.

Jason points at Immediate Challenge. "I should have seen this," he murmurs. "A wand is being used in defense against other wands, just like me against the roots. So the challenge is to... be aggressive?" he ponders. He taps his chin. "I didn't make any forward movement in the quest until I acted against the roots, struck back against the walls. This probably just means that in regards to what I'm facing, I can't be complacent. I have to take action, rather than just let anything be handed to me. Including the answer to my dreamquest." he murmurs, smirking ruefully.

Phyx chuckles quietly, not moving except to gently pat one of Jason's bare feet, "There you go, pet -- nicely started. Continue, please. And if you cannot remember what a card signifies, rest your fingers on it for a moment for enlightenment."

Jason nods thoughtfully. "The Ace... the ace is pretty straightforward. It embodies not only prosperity, but also trust. I decided to trust in Diana and her good faith, and was rewarded as a result. With her and Mike, I have a support system now. Well, but not just monetarily. I have friends, people to help me face the supernatural." He fingers King of Pentacles, forgetting its meaning, and frowning as it comes to him. "The King of Pentacles... I suppose as a simple representation, my old teacher came to me as a symbol of what I see as success. But that's just the outer layer. It's meant to signify distant past. Maybe me in the distant past, which would make its attributes make sense, in a regard. I was the reliable, supportive type, perhaps even enterprising in my way. But the King would seem to be more passive, just like me. He faces up to the commitments and promises that come to him, he supports the people that come to him, takes advantages of opportunities that come to him. That makes it the opposite, in some ways, from Seven of Wands. Which explains why the Seven is my challenge. I'm changing roles in order to face new and different difficulties."

Phyx purrs quietly, "Good boy. And before you go on... what do you learn from the King?"

Jason spends some time thinking about this. "I suppose it's meant to be reassuring? Indicative that I have the strength of character to face up to challenges because I have a firm base I'm building off of. Success means being true to this base. Not giving up, being responsible, keeping my promises."

Phyx nods approvingly, then purrs, "Continue!"

Jason hnhs. "Now the problem is, how do I translate the King of Swords in terms of Best Outcome? I can see where I would idealize the King's virtues, but this has to be more than just a fantasy 'what if.' Is Best outcome suggesting that by aspiring to these virtues I'll gain forward movement, or just that I think I will?" He mulls over that. "I certainly can't see how it would hurt. Learning how to negotiate with the supernatural will clearly require proper analysis, and the ability to articulate myself well." Phyx grins quietly, her eyes half closed again as she purrs.

Jason scratches his chin. "If this is the best outcome, then it would seem logical that creative thinking, negotiation, articulation, and encouraging both myself and others to just, ethical modes of thinking would assist me against obstacles," he muses. Then he focuses on the last card, the one he feared. "Nine of Cups is normally wish fulfillment, satisfaction. But it's reversed, so it means the opposite. Replacing satisfaction with despair, replacing wish fulfillment with crushing loss -- or maybe not. The scene I was shown was crushing, surely, but wish fulfillment isn't about what you need, it's about what you think you need."

Phyx nods in silent approval, "Misinterpretation of relationships can be crushingly costly, yes. Go on, pet."

Jason blinks. "Wait, you're referencing the next scene... so you're suggesting that the Factors and the Future are tied together? Hnn." He thinks about that for a moment, touching the Eight of Pentacles for enlightenment.

Phyx smiles enigmatically, "No, I referred to Nine Cups, pet."

The rush of information comes to him. The Eight references paying attention to detail, gaining knowledge -- but it's reversed. "But they are tied together," he murmurs. "Factors influencing the Querant suggest being unobservant or not understanding things. No, not just not knowing, but actively hampering one's knowledge."

Phyx beams, purring again as she pats Jason's foot lightly, "Good boy! Keep going, please."

Jason taps his lips rapidly. "Maybe there's something more to it than just loss. Those two cards together... the suggestion is self-delusion. I want things to be a certain way in order to fulfill my wishes. But there's something I'm not seeing in my desire to achieve a specific goal. And if I maintain this delusion, there could be bad ramifications."

Phyx murmurs thoughtfully, "What do you see, pet?"

Jason shakes his head. "I'm not sure. Maybe it ties back to the King of Swords. Maybe I think I can persuade all the other supernaturals around to my way of thinking, that I can make peace with them. Maybe I'm overconfident. That would relate to Hopes and Fears." He touches the card. "In that scene, my overwhelming assuredness of my own power, my own rightness led to catastrophe. The Ten of Cups is joy, peace, family -- but it's reversed. The scene suggested the destruction of all of those because of my arrogance. That's what I fear But it's more than fear. All these other cards suggest that if I'm not careful, I will actualize this." Phyx nods, smiling faintly.

Last modified: 2009-Mar-01 23:49:50

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