Dragonrider of the Sands
Log Info
- Title: Dragonrider of the Sands
- Characters: Harkashan, Aelwyn
- Location: Jungles of Am'shere - Akochilistli Kuauhtla
- Summary: Harkashan speaks with Aelwyn to figure out what he wishes to do in the future, and where he comes from.
~Morning in Akochilistli Kuauhtla~
Calls. Cries. Tempting, pleading, haggling. All of these things, once so familiar. Yet, so strange, to be standing in the jungles of Am'shere at last.
And squinting orange eyes at the assortment of carved rings. Aelwyn shifts his weight as he gives his teeth a slow and steady click, trying to peer at one of the ring in particular. "The coin is no good." He rumbles by himself, as the other makari across the spread of goods waits patiently for the far shorter sith-makari to make up his mind.
The orange pupils shift towards the merchant, sitting down crosslegged on his flat seat; a rectangular piece of wood raised on legs. "And one is not interested in flask of fire?" Nope. "... a ring is a hefty trade." Breathing in deep, Aelwyn crosses his arms and looks down at the spread again.
"How was he so fluent in this?" He quietly rumbles by himself; in a particularly thick makari accent.
"How was whom so fluent in this?" It isn't the first, nor the last time that Harkashan would find his way to Aelwyn. Touching his shoulder and leaning down a bit. Shadow and light both touching over Aelwyn's scales as Harkashan looks closer. The lively gleam of his lava-like patterns standing out as he looks at the carved rings.
"Looking to make a trade, are you? Hmm, in the Softskin lands, it is easier. They tell you how much coin they desire, and you give them that much for the trade. Here, you must first learn what the trader finds important." He looks at the merchant seated before him.
"You can guess, in the hopes of finding the answer. Or... at the risk of being put at a disadvantage, you could just... /ask/." There is a reason the Sith-makar are so socially active. This is just one of them. Even something as simple as initiating a trade means to make a bond between two people.
The smaller, runtier sith-makar looks up at Harkashan, snapped out of his contemplation. For a moment, he ponders answersing, but then his lips twist open. It was a little forced. "Tch, someone this used to travel with. Desires and wishes, lured behind a smokescreen of anger, and pleasure, all in a hidden play." The draconian takes in a deep breath; his voice having lost a lot of its accent, even if it was obviously foreign to Am'shere.
The merchant simply keeps staring calmly, as the ruddy scaled-sith slides his hand down along his mane of quills. "This one did not assume to bring much in the way of trade beyond coin. And a ring for a ring -" A hefty click from his teeth.
"If Lava had not bid for this one's body already, this one would have suggested bodily work instead." The sith-makar rumbles and moves to playfully bump at the larger male's hip with his side. "How is the injury?"
"You can always return to this trade when you have gathered something worth trading for." Harkashan answers Aelwyn. "A merchant is not a warrior. So... perhaps consider what you can bring to this merchant, that they cannot bring themselves." Shifting his head a bit. He's referring to trophies. There are a great deal of dangerous beasts in the jungles around here after all.
Harkashan then erects his posture fully, and pats Aelwyn's shoulder. A tilt of his head. "A bid for your body? Do you speak of my need for you in this up and coming conflict?" He inquires. Uncertain, it would seem. Still, he bumps his hip back to Aelwyn's.
"My injury is slowly healing. Scales do not grow back as fast as they did when I was but a hatchling, but they will regrow at decent speed." He expresses to him, not about to expose his wound to him here in the market.
"Walk with me." Harkashan then remarks, starting to step along the road.
"What is your Caste, Aelwyn?" He asks. "Where do you Belong?"
Aelwyn spreads his hands. "If this were in the city, this one would have plenty. Yet, this one did not prepare." The draconian responds and then lets out a firm click of his teeth. He absolutely no idea that Harkashan was referring to trophies from Am'shere, specifically.
Looking up at Harkashan, the small and very ruddy sith-makar slides his hand down on his hip. "Perhaps," He replies, lips sliding away from his sharp teeth. "If that is the need that Hotstone has." His tail moves to lightly slide against the Deathsinger's, before he lightly taps at the other's ankle.
"This one is glad," The Dragoon bows his head. "A wound from a dream - even with the thousand tales brought to flesh, there is always something beyond, unknown and unfamiliar." A tilt is given to Harkashan at the remark, but Aelwyn gladly picks up his glaive and walks after the taller sith.
And there the merchant remains, calmly waiting for the next customer.
The question gets him off guard, and he glances over. "This one is a Dragoon; the one who dances with fire." He clicks his teeth in amusement. "Yet this one feels that will not be a satisfying answer here, amongst Kin."
"Quickclaw talons, Thunderlizard teeth, drake hides." Harkashan lists off for Aelwyn's purposes. "A ring, I suspect, a tooth or a talon will be enough. For a Crafty Sith-makar could trade it for more by binding it with rope."
Harkashan looks at that lizard hand touching his hip for a moment, and nods at Aelwyn. "You are welcome to remain close." He answers him simply. But, even in saying this, as always, Harkashan permits things up to a point. His tail touching that of Aelwyn's.
"There are a many Castes amongst my Kin. But I fear I do not know what it means to be one who dances with fire." He motions outwards. There are many fires here, some of the Sith-makar dancing. "All Sith-makar dance with fire." He explains to Aelwyn.
"The great Fires that burn in Am'shere are revered. We dance around them. We eat around them."
"Then how can Lava be confused?" The Dragoon asks. And stay close he did; he did very much enjoy watching the larger makari by his side. Even the extra heat was welcome. It was always welcome.
The draconian's tail makes a little whipping motion at the ground and he stops, looking up at Harkashan. He gestures at the jungles around them. "There is a sense of familiarity, here. Yet these lands are so alien, and foreign. It is unsettling and comforting." He lets out a little hmmh, before moving to bump his elbow against the taller male's side, again.
"Ever seen a fire rage across the endless sands of a desert?" The draconian asks, twisting his lips. "Has Lava been caressed by the flames, their licks growling across one's scales, waiting to be touched, eager to be held?"
The glaive is raised over Aelwyn's shoulders and he leans back, tilting his hip. "The molten heat, sliding across this one's scales." He lets out an amused rumble. "This one does not consider fire holy; for then he would have to worship a lover." Flash of his teeth.
The Dragoon leans back slowly on his backfoot. "This one feels that this is important to Hotstone."
Harkashan answers Aewlyn's question on confusion with a ponderous growly 'hrrrm', not answering the question. Instead, as Aelwyn stops, he stops with him and looks at the jungles being motioned at.
"This is your home, and the home of your ancestors." Harkashan answers Aelwyn. "We, the Children of the Flame, know this home to be the place given to us by the Silver one. The blood and flame within your veins recognize this place as your home." He explains to him with a certainty in his words, looking at Aelwyn. "But you grew up far away from home. So you do not know much of this yet." He remarks.
Butting his hands at his hips, he listens as Aelwyn speaks of fires raging over sands. "Sands are not well known to me." He simply answers. "But I have been caressed by flames many a times." Not following where Aelwyn is going with this.
"You need not consider the flames Holy. Your nature understands their importance well enough." He tries to impress on Aelwyn. Wouldn't be a <flame> dancer if the fire was not important to Aelwyn in some way after all.
"I think... this is important to you, Aelwyn. You wish for a place to be useful, for belonging, do you not?" He asks. "A natural instinct of the Sith-makar. To huddle together for warmth, for companionship. We work in Castes, in the same way that the Softskins cling to family."
Harkashan pauses for a moment, before asking; "Or am I wrong? I was thinking, it might be good for you to have a Caste that you feel, you can call home. Where you can go at any time, and find purpose. Warmth, companionship. I do not wish to push this upon you. But I wish to make sure that, if I read you right, I open the way for you."
Home. Aelwyn's demeanor changes, visibly; all that casual spark. The Dragoon walks back down along the path; before he turns and gives Harkashan's side another friendly bump with his tail; his tail sways behind him as he continues walking along the road with his rolling gait. "This one had a caste, if this one speaks the same words." The draconian says; turning to gesture behind him somewhere towards the Portal.
"Beyond the sea." There is a deep breath as he looks up at the sky for a moment. "The skies here feel familiar. Perhaps right." The short runt looks over his shoulder, a slow smile creeping up at his face. "Yet in many ways, it is not. Like the caravan of the troupe, where this one always knew who to return to."
The dancer flashes his teeth and spreads his arms, as he starts to walk backwards. His toned body shifts from one side to the other, as he flicks his tongue at Harkashan in an obviously tempting motion. "Warmth and companionship; yes." His chest reverbates in amusement, as he turns back around; tail flicking behind him. "But the Castes here? This one is not certain. Barely, this one knows but few Kin who have seen these jungles. Did even this one's mother?"
There's a roll of his shoulders. "The skies feel here right. This one would greatly enjoy seeing them in flight." The Dragoon continues walking along, clicking his teeth with a tilt of his head; arms folded over his glaive.
Harkashan turns towards Aelwyn, continueing his pace with Aelwyn. "Tell me of your tales beyond the sea." He answers Aelwyn. Wandering with him, trying to learn more of the ruddy scaled one.
There's a little grumpy rumble from him as he spots that tongue-flick at him. Noticing how Aelwyn is avoiding speaking of the true root of it all. "I do not know if your Kin or your Mother saw these jungles. As Huian has told, there are those of my people beyond the seas. I am certain our Kin are in many a place." He answers Aelwyn.
He looks up at the skies for a moment, then looking back to Aelwyn.
"Tell me of your former Caste."
The steps slow down once again, then he quietly comes to a stop; the red ribbons slowly folding against his horns and glaive. Yes, he was avoiding talking about it. Especially after that. He turns his head and gives Harkashan a slow smile, and a steady gaze.
"... yes, I am aware." The thicker, more sing-song accent slips into his tongue as easily as it left. He steps closer towards the taller sith-makar and tilts his hip. "It is a different place. Just as crowded in the cities, as it is dead for the vast majority of the sands. Ruled by spirits as much as spirit, yet governed by what one can barter; and amidst it all, our troupe."
The Dragoon gives Harkashan a low rumbling grin. "This one has little interest in discussing it here on the road. Yet," He reaches up, and gives light fistbump at the taller sith's snout. "This one is willing to barter, in exchange, for the story behind those shimmering scales." He leans back, and he clicks his teeth. "And the recipe for that scale oil."
Harkashan tilts his head a bit as Aelwyn comes to a stop once more. Halting with him, and laying his hand to the pommel of his blade. Not to draw it, but because his hand rests rather easily there.
Listening, nodding as the sands are spoken of. Considering for a moment, if whence Aelwyn comes has to do with the Golden Sands. For, imagining what is being said, and mention of spirits, has him wondering...
Then, offer of a barter, as his snout is slightly booped. Harkashan touching over his snout, giving Aelwyn a strange look. What is it with all these people trying to touch his snout lately?
"I do not have the recipe. But I purchase them in Mictlan. I can point you to the merchant." He explains to Aelwyn. "As for my shimmering scales..."
Pause.
"I do not yet know. It is part of why I am here, in Am'shere. I wish to speak to some of the Keepers, to try and come to understand why I feel so different. Why I seem to be... awakening anew."
Aelwyn's lips twist open. "Tch, of course. This one has struggled to find oil for his scales in Alexandria - Goblintown is filled with creativity, but not much practicality." He leans away from his glaive and stretches out his body. "The winter was not kind to this one's scales." And indeed they were not - worn and weathered, looking as if ready to peel. The ruddy sith-makar obviously no idea how to deal with cold.
The Dragoon moves to bump against Harkashan, urging him to walk again. "Perhaps there is a less open space we can talk?" He asks, with a tilt of his head. "And this one is expected to be told exactly what does Lava mean by feeling of this awakening. This one hopes it has nothing to do with the nightmares?" He clicks his teeth. "Lava did not get hit by those thorns from Felwood?"
Harkashan moves on when the Dragoon moves. It doesn't take much to convince him to do so.
"No, this began before the Dreaming stole flesh from me." Harkashan answers the Dragoon, leading him further along, then steps off the path to head closer to the jungles. Aside from Hunters and Warriors, the Sith-makar do not travel too close to the jungles unless they have a need to. So, this allows Aelwyn and Harkashan to speak as desired - somewhere a bit more private.
It takes a bit of walking to get there though.
"The thorns did not touch me. No, I believe this was already happening after I returned from Am'shere here, into Alexandria. Perhaps it has to do with these... 'Ley Lines' that are spoken of."
"The leylines?" The ruddy sith-makar asks. "The Guild has told everyone to be in look out for them. For them and those... orbs." He seems to have particular distaste, growling as he says the word. "Tch." He glances off towards the side. "Fucking Felwood."
He gestures, as he looks back at Harkashan. "The ley lines are changing, this one was told. The source of magic. Disappearing, shifting, corrupted or not. The last I heard nobody knew why." A flash of his teeth, and he nudges Harkashan on the side. "Perhaps until a certain glowing Lavastone arrived." There was obvious amusement in his voice.
Aelwyn looks around the jungle; curiosity naturally takes him over for a time, but eventually he settles to leaning against one of the trees. He puts down the glaive near him and languidly, stretches against the bark. "Hmmh. So Hotstone feels awakened, has pieces of flesh torn from him during his dreams, and now even leylines are involved?" He tilts his head, amusement continuing to play on his features. "No wonder he has no time to visit this one in the TarRaCe." A tail flick. "Will the answers be found here?"
"I do not believe I am important enough to be the cause of such revalation." Harkashan answers Aelwyn. He's hardly someone who has enough ego to consider himself some kind of fated servant to destiny and magic itself. Not to mention, it's well outside of the Death Singing Dragon's domains.
Harkashan moves to lean against a tree, across from Aelwyn. "I do not know if the Ley Lines are involved. It is merely a thought. There are many things in Alexandria and its surroundings, that are not here. THe magics of Ea are... vast and uncontrolled in many ways." He remarks.
He lifts his hand, looking at his scales. "Perhaps this is merely my ancestry seeking to speak to me. And... that is why I am here."
He nods his head. "I hope so. I hope answers will be here. But I do not know. It is a gameble I am taking." He pauses, then points.
"So speak to me of your Caste."
"This one desires to speak of Felwood. Yet - from what he heard in the Temple, this one feels maybe it is not the topic he should be discussing." The Dragoon takes in a deep breath, leaning his horns against the tree. "Or perhaps somethings should remain secrets, as this one thought."
Flicking his tail behind him, he continues to stare at Harkashan. Whilst he did enjoy the company; he couldn't help but to feel a rift between them. A rumble leaves his lips.
"The cities are endless, did Lava know?" The Dragoon asks, with a glance towards the skies. "My troupe carved the roads." He crosses his arms. "Where, I never knew. A new city was nothing short of a new life, as our carts spilled across the streets, the endless revelry seeming to last forever. People, companions, lovers..." A long sideways glance, as he lays his glaive down and looks upon the trees.
"... then tomorrow, the road calls. Another city awaits with only the skies to guide us."
A longer pause, and he lets out a long rolling rumble, voice more like a singsong instrument. "I was part of that troupe. That was my home, where I belonged. If I were lost, the troupe would bring me back. If I stepped too far, the troupe would be there." His hand lowers down and he makes gentle gesture; there's a quiet crack, and fire breaks out from his palm. "Am'shere felt like a dream. It still does." His hand moves; gesturing in the air, and the flames follow. "My Caste was of the fire, dance and the blade. And we would live as if to show those cities that tomorrow is too late." Fingers stretch out - and the fire responds, the flames coiling as if it were a hand laying atop his, moving to clutch his lovingly.
It was all trickery, of course. Clever manipulation of shifting winds. Surely.
"I yearn for the skies."
"I did not." Harkashan answers when Aelwyn speaks of the endless cities. Tilting his head a bit. Listening on the matters of his troupe. He doesn't miss that sideways glance in regards to livers, as the glaive is laid down.
"So you traveled a lot. Always moving. Amongst likeminded peers. Ehmm... entertainers?" He offers, thinking that is the word that Softskins use for that role.
"Blade dancer, Fire dancer. I understand now." Harkashan remarks, watching the gout of flame erupt near the ruddy one's fingers.
"You yearn for the skies? What does that mean?" A pause. "Wait, before we get to that... your troupe. What happened?" He draws away from the trees. He left that place. He came to Alexandria. He no longer travels all the time.
So, Harkashan approaches the Sith-makar before him and comes to stand besides him instead of standing across, and touches his shoulder once more. "Please, continue your story." Closer. So Aelwyn has someone to lean on.
Aelwyn continues to look at the skies; with the morning sun soon painting the skies. "Entertainers." He clicks his teeth and rolls a long gaze towards Harkashan, a tongue stretched out from between his teeth. "Though Hotstone should be careful about calling anyone just as an entertainer. Some of us felt far more strongly about our art."
The Dragoon flicks his tail in amusement. He doesn't miss the warmth and the hand on his shoulder. Harkashan undoubtedly did not miss the heavy tension, either. "This one walked away." He stretches out with his hand. "It..." There's a moment of hesitation, almost as if he wasn't sure himself either - but it is all gone with a sudden burst of childish confidence. "A dragon. In the sky."
Yet that was not what Harkashan was asking, not exactly. So the heavy hand on his shoulder reminds him of all the decisions he has made. "I suppose," There's a bit of a rumble, evasive tilt of his head. "This one supposes they are still out there. Performing. From one city to another." He grips his bicep firmly; standing still, as if trapped.
"It is not a word I take in jest, or to diminish. Merely to show an understanding." Harkashan answers Aelwyn when he clicks his teeth and shows that long gaze at him.
"You stepped away because you saw a dragon in the sky, and wished to join it in flight?" He then asks Aelwyn. A rather short question, but he doesn't take his hand off of his shoulder.
Harkashan is not questioning Aelwyn's sanity, or thinking less of him for leaving the troupe and chasing a dragon. He just remains there, supportive. "Do you wish to fly alone?"
Aelwyn lets out an amused rumble, lifting his arm and wrapping it about Harkashan's. "This one jests. But if one has to ask if one is an entertainer, perhaps one has not been entertained." There is a bright flash of his teeth. "Fate worse than death." A brief pause. "Tch, at least to those who have not experienced it." He gives a brief pat.
The question makes Aelwyn shake his head. "This one cannot fly. Yet there was something in that statue, that felt right." He lets out a quiet hmmh, then another amused flash of his teeth; and a wiggle of his tongue. "Awakening, perhaps?" Languidly, he looks towards the sky; far more relaxed talking about this topic. As if it didn't matter what Harkashan thought of it.
"This one feels that he will ride a dragon one day."
"So, a Rider then." Harkashan rumbles. After all, the term 'Dragoon' is not one he is familiar with. "A Dragonrider, more precisely. But you desire to tame beasts, and ride them. Similar to Tetli. Hunter, Tamer..." Harkashan answers, sliding his arm a bit further around Aelwyn as he wraps his arm around Harkashan's.
"I am uncertain I can offer you such an experience whilst we are here. Dragons are... far and few in between. But perhaps a Drake will do for you on the short term?" He asks of Aelwyn, with a tilt of his head, while using his other hand to pat Aelwyn's chest.
"Tch, no, this one is not Rider, nor a Dragonrider." Aelwyn replies, moving to slide further against Harkashan and his hand. "Barely a tamer." Oh no. All that ruddy scale looking for warmth. "Though he has been teaching this one how to ride. Ever heard of the cavaliers?" He takes in a deep breath. "Lucius is a fine one."
Yet, with the offer - the larger sith-makar probably could not avoid feeling the sliding of the Dragoon's tail around his. And the tip, flipping in an agitated, excited manner. "This one would be in Lava's debt." There's an upward tilt of his head. "Which leads to the barter; what would Keeper wish from this one in return?"
"Not yet. But it is something he wishes to be. Rider - Cavalier - it is the same for our people. Just as a Knight is a Warrior." Harkashan explains to Aelwyn. "There are more precise Castes. But to have a name our people know - to bear the markings of one - will ensure you will get help making your dreams come true, Aelwyn." Harkashan tries to impart on the Sith-makar.
"And yes, I am familiar with Lucius. He is a fine warrior with that large lance of his." He adds, looking down as that tail slides around his. He curls his tail around Aelwyn's in answer, showing support.
Still, a shake of his head. "This is not a matter of trade or barter. I am merely seeking to ensure you have a home and a sense of belonging here." He explains.
Aelwyn rumbles, a genuine smile falling on his face as Lucius is talked of. "Tch. This was not aware cavaliers such as he did exist." He takes in a deep breath, "One should ask him of his family legend, sometime." A story that was nto his to tell.
The other sith-makar's explanation makes sense, the Dragoon has to agree. "Hmmh, yet titles and words carry power, Lava. Like secrets hold sway, a name can open doors and show a path that dust would cover." He bows his head. "It undoubtedly is the same here in Am'shere, so this one will carry the one Lava deems best."
The ruddy sith-makar's tail continues sliding across its counter part; but then he slides around and leans against Lava up front, chest to chest. "No." He flatly, replies. "This understand it is different here across the sea - but this will find that insulting." He clicks his teeth.
"Keeper, name his price in a fair barter."
"You should." Harkashan agrees with Aelwyn. "Perhaps one day, you will leave behind just as fine a legend." He rumbles.
"For now, I would recommend Hunter or Warrior. We will find far more Riders when we go North to the Great Plains. Many, you will find on Quickclaws." Harkashan then adds, before putting a hand on Aelwyn's back and letting him lean on his chest.
"I am no Keeper. I am Shaman, or Speaker. The Keepers are of a very different sort." He warns Aelwyn first, before adding; "If you must have a prize... then this. On the first day you ride a Dragon, you will come to me and take me on this flight."
"This one already knows." The ruddy sith-makar replies. "The legend of the Owlknight." Aelwyn did not object to the hand over his back. "Then Warrior this one will be. And this one apologizes for the wrong name, Shaman."
His hands slide around and crosses them over the larger male's chest, leaning his own chin on them. He continues to look up; the red ribbons flowing down. Some were very worn, some were fresh; even the fancy ones from the dances were there.
"Hmmh." He finally replies, to the offer. "Lava is a hard person to read. Some say such things to just satisfy this one." He twists his lips, curling a corner from his mouth upwards. "Yet most of those are across the sea, in their desert cities, still bartering."
The straight pointing horns lean forward and he touches them against Harkashan's snout; or scales. "Then this one will take Harkashan for a ride in the skies."
"I am not familiar with the legend of the Owlknight." Harkashan admits to Aelwyn, until his hand starts to draw back from the runty Sith-makar's back. Playfully, he bites at one of those horns that gets close to his face, but he leaves it at that for now.
"I do not know what you are talking about though, when it comes to saying things to satisfy." He rumbles. He then slowly draws back a bit.
"But I am looking forward to a chance to ride through the skies with you, Aelwyn."
Aelwyn also starts to lean away, as Harkashan backs away. There's a low running rumble at the bite of his horns. "Why does everyone insist on doing that?" He rumbles, giving a flick of his head and then a flash of his teeth.
The Dragoon picks up his glaive and gestures. "Where this one comes from, a gift can be a deadly thing." He leans the polearm against his shoulder. "Therefore, people ask for nothings."
The draconian taps Harkashan's ankles with his tail. "It is insulting there, as if to say one has nothing worth asking for." He flicks his tongue out.
"Did this one satisfy Lava?"
"Because they are bitable." Harkashan answers. "And probably because the Sith-makar have a habit of biting the things they like." He adds to that, touching a hand to his hip and tilting his head to give him a most bemused look.
"Ah, I see. Yes. Gifts can be quite deadly." He then admits. "But I have little to fear amongst friends, now do I?" He asks.
At the note of satisfaction, Harkashan chuffs a bemused sound; "You have answered satisfactory." He tells him. "Let's head back to town, just in case anything shows up at the edges of the jungle."
"Tch," Aelwyn replies, looking like he enjoys the confused look on Harkashan's face. "When this one bites, you are doing something this one likes." He gives his tail a sway, rumbling in amusement. The smaller ruddy sith-makar naturally gravitates towards Harkashan's side - and he looks down, idly giving the taller makari's waist little tug and jerk, as if adjusting something.
"Hmmh. Satisfactory." Another hip bump, and sliding of his tail around the other's. "Perhaps next time this one will set Lava on fire." A row of teeth, as he starts to head towards the town.
"Whence we return to Mictlan, this one would wish to talk about Felwood," Aelwyn says, "But that miserable place can wait."
"We can talk next time about the Felwood. You need not wait for us to return to Mictlan to speak of this." Harkashan answers, after hip-bumping Aelwyn back.
"And I am glad to be Satisfactory for you." He then teases, before motioning his hand, turning his body, and with his tail a-sway, heading back to 'town' so to speak.
Aelwyn rumbles, "Tch, it will take more than one ride for that." The Dragoon responds with a low running rumble, though his tail also sways in amusement. "And this one feels there will be more pressing matters here than some miserable, haunted woods." A brief pause. "Hopefully." Ta-a-ail flick.