10538/Path of Glory: Lead Us To Reason

Path of Glory: Lead Us To Reason
Date of Scene:	22 March 2022
Location:	Jon's Dreamscape
Synopsis:	Michael's attempt to manipulate Jon through his dreams is foiled by the assistance of Cael. They end up teleporting to the Astral location of the Archive and, faced with Jon at the height of his power... Michael retreats.
Cast of Characters:	Michael Demiurgos, Jonathan Sims, Cael Becker

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Michael Demiurgos has posed:
    Almost as soon as Jon and Cael fall into unconsciousness they find themselves in the cooridors of the mansion they just dispelled. The hallway is that same gaudy tritone orange that they can remember. A glance out a nearby window tells them they are on the ground floor of the hotel. The carpet is a bit more plush here than it was on the upper floors.

    Before them is a polished set of double doors. Above the doors is a gold plaque with fancy script reading 'The Gold Room.' There is an audible click and the doors swing open permitting the pair to enter the room. "Welcome my esteemed guest....s?" comes Michael's voice.

    The question and uncertainty in the archangel's voice is immediate. He did not anticipate Cael's presence here. He sighs and shakes his head but lets it go. He is standing behind a polished bar near to the door wearing a black tuxedo. He wears it well, but that's not surprising given what he is. There is a scar at his hairline. What looks like it might've been a deep cut or gash has healed over on the right side from somewhere in his hair to the middle of his forehead.

    "I saw my brother's handiwork on you earlier. I should've known that meant that you were linked." He shakes his head. "This does not need to be so difficult, Jonathan. Dismiss her and we can resume our discussions. They were going rather well last time."

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    "You /killed/ me last time, as I recall," Jon spits, glaring at Michael. He's in the rust-colored turtleneck sweater and jeans that he'd been wearing before they went into the Astral Plane. There's no sign of Ma'at's influence whatsoever--which might be precisely the idea behind Michael attacking him now, when he's vulnerable and unable to access Ma'at's power.

    He grips Cael's hand, and goes on, "Besides, what you did today... you tried to obliterate my friend with the Demiurgic Force. You almost killed Cael. Why do you think I'm /ever/ going to /willingly/ agree to work with you when you keep hurting the people I care about?"

    He does not step into the room, and will try to keep Cael from going in if she makes any move to do so. He's not walking into Michael's trap, not yet.

Cael Becker has posed:
    As the pair appear in the hotel corridors, Cael looks around without recognition at the building they find themselves in. Were they- on their vacation? That must be it. They'd gone on their ski vacation. Martin was off with Agnes - building a snow man? That felt about right. Giving Jon a smile, she reaches out to take his hand - just before the doors open, and that voice rings out.
    At the sound of the voice, she can feel her heart sink into her stomach, but she can't really figure out why - until she sees the man in his suit. "You..." she says coldly.
    "What're you doing here? Why would I ever leave Jon with you?" she growls out, as she indeed takes a step towards him, her free hand balling into a fist - only to be brought up short by Jon's unwavering grip on her hand.

Michael Demiurgos has posed:
    "I did nothing of permanence, Jonathan" Michael replies. "You were made whole after. And my retaliations against your friends were designed that they could escape or survive whatever pain would be inflicted. I knew that Terrance would be able to escape the blast I sent him and Cael has endured far worse under the aegis of Scathach. The flames would've hurt her but she would survive. Both were defensive measures."

    He frowns and looks as Cael is held fast by Jon. "I just want to do what bartenders do best. I want to talk. To give you... both of you if I must... a chance to relieve your burdens and find some measure of peace here in this fine establishment." He gestures to the seats before them. "Why don't you both come and take a break. I'm not going to hurt you here." He gestures at his tuxedo and chuckles. "Not like this at least."

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    "That's not the point! You always miss the bloody /point/! You /killed/ me with a weapon that eradicated my body and should have shunted my soul straight back to the Presence, how am I supposed to trust you're /not/ using lethal force every bloody time?" Jon continues to glare at Michael for a long moment, until something clicks in his head.

    He looks over at Cael. "It's a dream, love," he says firmly. "You're dreaming. We were just in the Astral Plane, and Ma'at used most of the power we share to dispel Michael's illusion and heal you. I have to recharge after that, so we both fell asleep on the couch in my living room. This is why you asked Sandalphon to join us, to protect me from Michael."

Cael Becker has posed:
    "A dream," Cael repeats, her gaze locked onto Jon's - as her brain tries to puzzle it out, and break free of the spell that dreams place over an otherwise rational mind. "I asked Sandalphon- Uriel was there," she remarks as some of it starts to come back to her. "And we-" Her gaze flicks towards Michael.
    "I //finally// hit you with that fucking chair," she remarks - before pointing towards the bar. "There's more chairs in there. Maybe I'm not finished yet. Maybe if I keep beating him with fucking hellfire chairs every time he comes after you it'll finally get through his thick skull to leave you alone. You think we can make the chairs produce hellfire in here?"

Michael Demiurgos has posed:
    Michael's eyes glow golden for a moment and an aura of wrath pours off of him. "I would advise against such action, Cael. You managed your last attempt by luck and numbers... I will not allow the same mistake twice." The golden glow fades as does the aura of menace.

    "I am offering a talk... that is all" he says to Jon. "No trauma to you. No coersion. No more games, entertaining as they have been. Just a talk between two generals."

    He gestures to the chairs before the bar again, inviting the pair to sit. "It's rude to decline hospitality freely given, especially from one who holds such great power."

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon responds by summoning up his magical arm, just so he can flip Michael the bird without letting go of Cael's hand. "Come on, Cael," he says, turning away from the door. "We'll find a way out of--"

    Turning around merely puts the entrance to the bar in front of them again. "Oh come /on/. Quit with the bloody games, Michael. If we can't decline the invitation it's not freely accepted, is it?"

    A pause. "If you promise not to hurt /either/ of us... then I'll come and sit down. Otherwise, if you're planning to use Cael against me..."

Cael Becker has posed:
    "Do you think I hit a nerve?" Cael asks with a smirk. "Look. I messed up his pretty face. If we get him on the other side, though, we can at least even things up for him. Make it a little more symmetrical." She doesn't seem in the least perturbed by Michael, as she continues to glare at the heavenly being.
    "We don't treat with //children,// Michael. It's not worth our time."
    She turns to walk away with Jon - only to find themselves right back where they'd started, and she lets out a snort. "See? Real fucking mature. Proving the point."
    Leaning in towards Jon she adds, "At what point did he get the idea I have a problem with being rude? 'cuz... I hate to burst his fucking bubble, but he can sit and spin for all the shits I give."

Michael Demiurgos has posed:
    Michael eyes Cael. "Very well. If you refuse to see reason, then I rescind my offers. All of them." He fixes Jon with a hard glare and there is a high pitched whine in the air. And the air around Jon shudders. "Let us see if you can be rude to one you do not have a vendetta against. Let us see how you handle one who does not see reason."

    Jon's mind clouds and there is anger. Violent anger stoked within. That anger should be directed at Michael. It was directed at Michael, but there is a shifting in his mind. That anger suddenly turns to the woman at his side. A highlight reel plays in his head, bringing forth every domestic squabble they've had. Every time she's teased him or hit at his authority. Every time she's refused to fully commit to the life he offers. The reel highlights the negative and dims the positive before latching to that volitale, violent anger and pushing him to -act- on it.

    There's an audible snap in the air and suddenly Jon's glowing green hand his holding a fireman's axe. The perfect tool to put her in her place.

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    The trouble with Michael's tactic here is that it's predicated on the idea that Jon has any underlying anger at Cael. Maybe a little frustration and resentment, sure, but it's transitory and more than drowned out by love and appreciation. He finds the teasing endearing. He appreciates her questioning his authority. He respects her boundaries.

    Essentially, Michael's trying to make Jon fit the bill of an aggreived husband in the classic heterosexual mode when he's... anything but.

    He shakes his head, closes his eyes. "Stop that," he growls. "I'm not... I'm not going to hurt Cael. I don't /want/ to hurt Cael!" He drops her hand and steps away from her, shaking his head harder, like he's trying to dispel the anger.

Cael Becker has posed:
    "What the hell are you doing...?" Cael asks quietly - concern heavily lacing her tone. The question is meant for Michael, but her gaze is locked onto Jon.
    "What the hell are you doing to him?!" she asks furiously, turning to glare at Michael. "What is your fucking problem? You torture me. You torture him. You take his //arm//. You //kill// him - and it's still not enough? Why don't you just //stop//? Why don't you leave us alone? When are you going to realize that you get //nothing// by continuing to torment us? All we want is to be left in peace! Grow the fuck up already!" she rails at the ancient being - as she stands, quivering with rage just outside the door of the bar.
    God she wants to grab one of those chairs and take another swing at him.
    "Jon... It'll be okay. It'll be okay as long as we're together," she promises him.

Michael Demiurgos has posed:
    Michael's mouth curves into a smile at Cael's words. "You think I torment him?" he asks. "No. I do nothing of the sort. I offer him what he cannot have here what he needs to be whole. I offer him relevancy. Very well, Jonathan. I see that attempting to fit you into the box set for this metaphor is unlikely. Then do not hurt her. Hurt me in her stead..."

    Suddenly, to Jon's eyes, Cael is no longer at his side. Michael is there. Cael is behind the bar and glass case springs forth around her, the lid snapping shut over her head. The Michael at his side speaks to him. "Shall we race? Destroy me soon enough... and she lives. Otherwise..."

    Water starts to fill the cage Cael is trapped in, rising steadily up. The fire axe is still in Jon's hand magical hand.

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon blinks as Cael and Michael appear to switch places. The door Michael has into his mind is such that he believes the illusion to be true; he has no reason to doubt it, to figure Michael's simply creating an illusion. He's convinced that Cael really is over in that glass case, with water rising around her. But he doesn't raise the fire axe against Michael. As furious as he is, that doesn't solve the actual problem.

    Instead, he bolts into the bar and tries to use the axe to destroy the glass. When it bounces off with a clang he growls in frustration and tries again, then tosses the axe aside and tries summoning sheer force to slam it into the glass. No good.

    Of course, the glass isn't even /there/ for him to be trying to break, is the problem. To Cael it probably looks like he's trying to attack Michael but hitting a shield.

Cael Becker has posed:
    "YES!" Cael answers Michael forcefully. "You TORMENT him! Like Jeffrey Dahmer with a puppy! How do you not see that? How can you not see the pain you cause him? How to continue to think yourself justified? Righteous? After all the pain, suffering, and death?" She can't help but - briefly - picture poor Amit. It was wrong. It was all so wrong.
    And then Jon flies off the handle in a way that- well. Seems more her style. "Jon?" she asks in concern, following him into the room slowly and cautiously. "What's going on, Jon?"

Michael Demiurgos has posed:
    The doors to The Gold Room close behind Cael locking them in the grand ballroom with Michael and whatever other things lurk in the facimile of the haunted resort. "That will not save her, Jon" Michael says. "Or is that you're too close to accepting my offer to raise a hand against me?" he asks. To Jon it appears as if Michael is approaching him slowly and the archangel draws a blade; the metal whispering against the sheathe as it is freed.

    The water continues to rise and Cael's face registers panic. She starts to hammer against the glass, her words are silenced on the inside of the case that may be her tomb if nothing is done against her captor. "And what if I strike you down? Destroy you and her in this place? I will raise you, you serve a great purpose in my design. But her... if she dies here... she will remain. Locked forever in this dream, locked away from her body for all time. If that happens to her, will you still refuse to raise your hand against me?"

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    "If dying in a dream were actually that bad, I'd already have that problem!" Jon retorts, backing off from trying to attack the glass case directly. "Why do you want me /fight/ you? Why...? None of this makes sense. Nothing you're doing makes any /sense/."

    He takes a step back, away from the glass case (and thus Michael), and shakes his head. "This is my dream. This is /my/ dream. I can control things, here. I can..." He can't reach out to Ma'at, but maybe he can reach out to the Archive...?

    He stares at what he thinks is Cael, earnestly. "This is a dream, love," he says. "It's not real, you said that yourself. Try to imagine a... a diving helmet or something, or try to imagine the water away, I'm going to try to get help. You can't really drown."

    Then he closes his eyes and reaches out, trying to find his connection to the Archive.

Cael Becker has posed:
    "...love?" Cael repeats as she stops in place, her gaze going to Michael, and then back to Jon. He wasn't falling in love with Michael - no. He thought she was //there.// Or maybe that Martin was? And that they were drowning. "Jon... I'm //here,//" Cael says quietly, but firmly. "Ay, Mariposa..."
    And just saying those words gives her an idea. If this is dream-stuff... she can change it, right? Affect it? She takes a deep breath, letting it out slowly, and tries to created a pair of butterflies - blue and teal wings, with golden bodies. One rests on Jon's hand - the other on her own hand, until they fly towards each other, flutter around each other, and then return to where they started.
    That was the notion, anyways. And even if it worked - would Jon understand it?
    "I'm right here, Mariposa."

Michael Demiurgos has posed:
    Michael laughs at Jon. "I want you to realize where you belong, Jonathan. Even in this, striking me down could save Cael and yet you refuse. Because you don't want to save her. You wish to rule this universe with me, don't you see?"

    The connection with Ma'at is weak here. Exerting her will as much as he did, -did- require a rest period. But the Archive. That is tied to his soul and is as intrisic to him as breathing. It's there and it's vast share of knowledge (and power) lies waiting for its curator.

    The butterflies do appear and, to Jon's eyes, one flutters around Michael's hand, unnoticed by the Archangel. The pair flutter forth and the message of Cael's voice flickers in Jon's ears, her words reach him. They sound distant and muffled but they are there and they come from the image of Michael himself where the butterfly rests on his sword hand undisturbed by the tightening of the fist around the hilt of the weapon.

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    "You've got it /backwards/," Jon snaps. "I want to save Cael, and all fighting you will do is extend your bloody game. I am /sick/ of your stupid game."

    He blinks and looks around in confusion as the butterflies catch his attention. He frowns, looking around, and stares at Michael for a long moment. Why is the butterfly on /him/? Why is Cael's voice coming to Jon from /him/...?

    He looks back at what appears to be Cael, panicking inside the glass case. He swallows, and then turns away, and walks toward 'Michael.' Every instinct in him screams that this is ridiculous, that Cael is going to /die/, but Michael's tricked him into thinking other things were real that weren't. "Why are you so insistent I attack you?" He answers his own question. "Because that's not you. That's /Cael/. You just... swapped images, in my mind."

    It's an effort of will for him to reach out and take 'Michael's' hands. He trembles in fear. What if he's wrong? What if this /is/ Michael, and he's leaving Cael to die...? This was the whole point, though, so he takes Cael's hands in his own. The real Cael.

    "Hold on, love. I'm not sure if this will work, but it's all I can think of." And then he reaches out, mentally, and yanks both himself and Cael toward the Archive. Will Michael come along with, since he's in Jon's dream? Hard to say. But hopefully they're about to find out.

Cael Becker has posed:
    Yes. He sees it - he understands. Relief fills Cael and she smiles at Jon, doing what comes naturally to her as he takes her hands. She squeezes his hands back, and leans into him, resting her head against his chest - fitting against him just as she should, rather than towering over him. "I'm right here," she murmurs to reassure him. "I'm fine. And I trust you."
    She trusts him intrinsically, as she simply holds on - her eyes closed.

Michael Demiurgos has posed:
    Michael's face falls into neutrality as Jon and Cael manage to puzzle out the deception. "This changes nothing you will stay here for all time if I to get you to turn away from--" His expression registers shock as he realizes what Jon is doing. "No. You cannot take us there."

    He starts to dismantle the dreamscape he's created, but it's too late and the trio vanish from The Gold Room. The absences of its creator causes the hotel, the room, and everything around it to fall apart. Dissapating into a field of dust, ash, and the raw material of Dreamspace.

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    As the illusion falls away, it's replaced not by dust and ash but by what might, at first glance, appear to be a library. They're in a huge open space with dark wood floors and tall bookshelves, light coming in through tall stained-glass windows. Though there /are/ books on the shelves, most of the space is taken by boxes of documents and manila envelopes. There's a sense that the space extends a /long/ way in all directions; a glance outside would show that they're at the top of a tall building in the center of a desert oasis.

    The open space they stand in is centered on a large statue of a woman that seems to shift between a few different configurations whenever it's looked at. At all times, she's wearing a red dress and jewelry that marks her as an Egyptian goddess. Sometimes she's wearing a green crown and holding a was-sceptre and ankh, others she's wearing the Red Crown of Lower Egypt; a glance away and back replaces the was-sceptre and ankh with a bow and arrow, and then another and she's holding the arrow nocked to the bow. Her facial features are impossible to make out, but her expression is both stern and loving.

    They arrive with Jon standing just beneath the statue, Michael almost literally pinned beneath the statue's gaze. Jon opens his eyes and peers at Michael, brought along with them. "Well, I didn't /quite/ intend to bring him, but maybe I can make him sit down and have a cup of tea and actually listen?"

Cael Becker has posed:
    As they appear in the space, Cael's attention is focused on Jon, lifting her head to look up into his eyes, concern etched in her gaze. "You okay?" she asks - quite certain that what he had just been seeing had been traumatic for him. She reaches up to touch his cheek, but when he seems calm, and well, she flashes him a brief smile, then turns her attention towards Michael.
    "We're offering him tea and hospitality?" she asks in a dry voice. "And I'm assuming you don't want me to put cyanide in it." Sitting down to tea with Michael is one of the LAST things she'd want to do.

Michael Demiurgos has posed:
    Michael looks around as he arrives in the center of the Archive and looks at the statue. "Very clever, Jonathan" he says derisively. "You wish to talk?" he looks at Jon for a moment and then back to to statue.

    There is the sense of him gathering power and then it just runs off of him like water through a strainer as something else intercedes to prevent him. "It would seem that here my power is limited to what you will, at least for the purposes of whether I am able to leave."

    He glances at Cael then and snorts. "Do not belittle yourself, Cael. I know you are not so dense to think that would actually hurt me. Even here, poisons and the like are of little effect on beings that need not process them."
    Again he regards the statue and then Jon. "I am at your leisure. You have my attention."

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon grins down at Cael and squeezes her hands, then looks up and steps forward.

    "So your power doesn't work all that well here. That's... interesting." He frowns. "No, Cael, I don't want to sit down to tea with him. If I'm being honest--and I do have to be--I'd rather like to challenge him to a duel, a /fair/ one, here where he can't employ any trickery or overpower me or try to control me. But... I don't know what good that would do, beyond satisfying my desire to show him up."

    He takes a long breath in, and then lets it out. "Besides, I doubt I'd get him to give up his power on the outcome of a duel. So maybe tea and hospitality, and a promise to actually /listen/. Or he leaves, and promises to stop fucking around with my head?"

Cael Becker has posed:
    There's a flicker of doubt across Cael's features. Michael wasn't the fighter that Uriel is - but he's no push over. Could Jon defeat him in a duel?
    She kinda doubted it, if she was being honest. But why say that out loud?
    "Look, it's not about actually harming you. I know I can't actually kill you. But do you think I'm going to stop hitting you with chairs, stabbing you with swords, slicing you with axes, and poisoning you?" Cael asks. "You got into my head. Twisted my thoughts around. Made me complicit in my own torture and murder. And then when that didn't work out the way I wanted - made me attack the man I love. How do you still not see how //wrong// that is?"

Michael Demiurgos has posed:
    Michael looks at Jon and then at Cael. "I have explained my points on what I did to you and the first casualties enough times to drive the point to insensibility. I will not repeat it further. It is clear we have different points on what is right and wrong. I am not an instrument for forgiveness and I have never claimed to be such."

    He sighs and then looks at Jon. "I had truly hoped that we could work together, Jonathan." His expression is truly sympathetic. "But it seems that that particular avenue is closed now. You have made your choice and if your terms are that I leave you to it... then so be it."

    Again his power swells and this time the strainer is not in place and with a burst of light and wind, the Archangel vanishes.

Cael Becker has posed:
    Cael lets out a snort. "Who said a word about fucking forgiveness, you ass? I'm saying you're still blind to just how //horrific// and disproportional what you did was. Get it through your thick, fucking- oh, and he's floucing.
    "GO AHEAD AND FLOUNCE! Fucking baby can't get what he wants - BOO FUCKING WHO!" She calls towards the distant ceiling.
    There is a ceiling in this place, right?
    It's only then that she turns, looking around at her surroundings and remarks, "So this is your archive? ... seems nice."

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    "He's not a baby anymore, love," Jon says. "He's more like an adolescent who's just starting to learn that he doesn't know everything and you have to compromise to get along." He sighs. "I fear I've just aged him up into every bully I ever dealt with in secondary."

    Then he flushes a little darker. "Oh... you like it? This is, umm... just the most recent level... it changes as you go down." He glances around. "I can't trust that he won't find some excuse to come bother /your/ dreams... or bother mine again... so I think dreaming ourselves here, for now, might be the best idea. We could... look around, maybe? I could teach you how to control your dreams."