Drumming

Log Info

• Title: Drumming
• Emitter: Cryosanthia
• Characters: Cryosanthia, Svarshan, Ezil, Arisha
• Place: W02: Mictlan
• Time: Monday, February 10, 2020, 10:10 PM
• Summary: Cryosanthia has spend the day in Mictlan, practicing drumming with the other Speakers. It's clear this effort is to take her mind off things, when she seeks out Svarshan to speak with him and her friend Ezil, arrives with some concerns. The pair had been involved in a demonic battle the evening earlier, and while victorious, it was hard won. Arisha is interested in the story behind the giant Dragon Bones, arrives at the same time and joins the conversation providing her perspective as one of the Grey Lady's Inquisitors. Svarshan keeps things low-key, but desires a discrete discussion later about details of what they have seen and his experience in killing demons will be shared.

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Located within the Deep Woods, and hours past Wilderness Pointe, in the heart of its northern woods, bones frame this hollowed-out space. Massive and heavy, they reach towards the sky, meeting--almost--in the center like great and worn stalagmites. Or giant teeth. After a few seconds--it's quickly evident that this is a space carved from a dragon's bones. A very, very large...dragon's bones. The air smells of ash, brimstone, and earth. Underneath the apex of the bones lie the workings of a central Fire.

The grounds are run by shamans of the sith-makar, and the sacred space dedicated to the Death Singing Dragon, one of their names for the goddess, Vardama. There are always a number of them about, from a mixture of tribes. Formally, the sith use it to sing the souls of their dead back to the land of Wing and Flame, and celebrate the Memory of Blood. It was here that brave heroes stood, and vanquished the ashen warriors of old, thereby freeing the land from Thul's curse. Informally, it is a gathering place.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-  Appearing, in Order  -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
Cryosanthia  6'7"     245 Lb     Sith-Makar        Female    A dashingly tall, lithe white lizardgirl with tattoos.                     
Svarshan     6'4"     307 Lb     Sith'makar        Male      Demons: Another name for spicy BBQ                                        
Arisha       5'0"     120 Lb     Shadow Elf        Female    Dark skinned elf with white hair                                           
Ezil         5'11"    175 Lb     Human             Male      An armored man with dark skin, and grey-blonde hair.                       
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It's evening in Mictlan, and events have progressed as they usually do. The sith-makar have a rhythm for things and one day can be much like the other. The tasks occuring at the same time, with the contents and context differing.

Today's different context has been drumming, lots of drumming. The Speakers have been doing some training and focusing on percussive instruments, so a lot of working with their tails, rattles, chimes, bells and proper drums. And one of those young speakers participating in training is the palescale, Cryosanthia.

It's finally finished up, and she's exhausted. Somehow she thought this would be easier than dancing. She knew it would be harder than singing, but that also turned out to be harder than she was expecting. So, same time, same place, different devastating undertaking. Now is the time where she wanders about, aching and looking for food.

Outside of Mictlan's centre are the caste-houses. It's from the direction of shaman-house that the warrior emerges. Svarshan ambles on four legs, an easy gait that stops at Mictlan's edge. There, he pauses, and stretches. A full-on body stretch from all fours, a reptile rising to greet the sun with his hands pressed in front of him, and his muzzle raised. Downward sith-makar!

"NRNNNNNNNNGGG--ahhh!"

He stops, mid-stretch. Then, relaxes and heads on and into Mictlan. He smells of herbs and other things. Shaman-paint marks his hide. Marks of purification, cleansing, blessing. As the drums slow, he tilts his head in a lazy way.

At the edge of Mictlan, is a partially cloaked figure observing it all. She doesn't seem too intent upon interrupting the 'party', or giving any sort of corrections, but she does watch...with a smile upon her face. Only her left arm is covered by a cloak, and her left eye is covered in an eye patch. She lets out a breath as the drumming slows down.....and she walks around the dancing Sith makar towards the bones of the dragon.....and near the ceremonial fire....

Ezil comes through the barrier, icy rain and the weather having glued his cloak against his form before crossing in to this sanctuary. He seems to have traveled hard on foot. He drips, eyes roaming over Mictlan as if in search, raising a hand to tug back his hood. The same hand then offers a wide wave. "Hello!" he calls in the Faring Ways, drawing attention to himself, but following with, "Peace be upon your nests. I seek the White-One, Cryosanthia." not having spotted her, but announcing his entrance while standing near where he crossed the barrier.

"I hope I do not intrude." Ezil says quickly, a small smile suddenly on his lips. "It is a holy place, and I would not bother you long."

The dancing speakers break up, going their various ways. One of them, the white-scale female, is obviously dragging her tail.

That roar! Cryosanthia's head whips around. Svarshan! She's been looking for him. Her tail stops dragging and her step becomes more perky, energy returning from the universe. She alters course and heads towards the great drake.

That voice! "This one is here, Blessed Follower of the Stars, come." She waves, once, her arm heavy, and continues on her course towards Svarshan.

The muzzle goes up, the eyes observe. Arisha--and then Ezil. Two softskins. In response, the warrior has begun to move--and then well, words? Warrior is hailed? The head goes up and he continues more directly, abandoning the faux-lazy amble around the other side of Mictlan.

Which would have indirectly, more politely, taken him in front of the softskins.

No, he was hailed. Be direct about it. Not indirect. Svarshan comes to a halt near the pale scale, and offers a, "Peasse to your nest," he says. He then casts a quiet, if friendly look towards Arisha. A more thoughtful one towards Ezil. Towards Ezil he leans forward, nostrils flaring momentarily.

Arisha turns her head towards Svarshan, giving him a slight smile and a nod of her head. At least, before she notices Ezil. Ezil is given a hard stare for a long few seconds before she finally blinks and works her way forward towards Svarshan. Once she gets close, she inclines her head to him. "Greetings Sunblade. You are well, I hope."

Ezil smells of spice, and flowers... and if that nose is keen, burnt flesh. It seems upon a close inspection the man still has seen some combat recently, his armor's paint having been blistered and torn from the plates. "Yeah, that's never scary." he says with a flat tone, though his smile doesn't seem to fade. "I am Ezil. All-Friend, and follower of Telmentar. I was worried about your kin." not flinching, but it is clear there might be some unease about Svarshan's close proximity. He doesn't move, or head towards Cryosanthia, but continues to stand there. Arisha earns a flare of his brows and a dip of his head. No words, just small motions.

Cryosanthia has not called out to Svarshan with words, though in all other ways her communications are loud. Her scent is strong, layered of fear, excitement, ash, death, blood and fire. Her motions exhausted, but even in that muted form lingers tremble of frustration and and anger. Her breathing, too deep, too much trying to calm and center herself. She doesn't reply to the greeting he offers, instead coming close to one of his forelegs and brushing against it and lingering, the way a youngling finds its mother.

She looks in Ezil's direction and waves for him to come closer, nodding her head. She hasn't noticed Arisha, but does when she draws near and simply watches.

Svarshan sets back on his haunches. His shoulders relax deliberately, the muscles relax, with claws settled against Mictlan's earth. "Peasse to you both. One is well, in the way of the ssoftskin way of asking," he says, warmly. The air around feels warmer then, more confident. A feeling of kinship and welcome. He tilts his muzzle to the side, and presses a heavy shoulder back against the speaker-caste's leg, briefly. Then, looks towards Ezil.

A subtle /push/ and that same-sense extends outwards. Warmth. Light. Bravery. "Hearth-Dragon," he says. The words are slow, and warm. "Peasse to you. This one is Svarshan, of the warrior-caste. Sservice to the Empress," he says, and pauses. A faint--glint. A light sense of humor at the edge of the eye. "This means one resspects the Treati."

Arisha looks to Ezil and really seems to look at him now....given giving a smile, even wider now that Svarshan is abusing his auras. "Nice to meet you, Ezil....Sentinel, I do believe I'm right about what they're called." She then places her right hand upon her chest. "Executor Arisha, follower of the Grey Lady. I believe the Sith-Makar called her 'The Death Singing Dragon." She then looks to Svarshan for correction. "It is why I am here, actually. I was looking at the dragon skeleton that is here....and trying to figure out who it might have been."

Ezil pauses and leans fairly far sideways to peer at Cryosanthia, then as he stands tall again he speaks softly. "She called you Sunblade, but aren't you sworn to the stars?" he asks, the aura seeming to cause him confusion. It's Arisha who gets his next words, blanching a bit as she calls him 'Sentinel'. "I call myself, Ezil. I do happen to be a blessed-swordsman, but I am not part of the Temple.... I follow Telmentar, and let her guide." Yes, the Paladin does not like fancy titles. He is still nervous, but then he shrugs. "Is it's name not truly known, Executor?" pointing to Cryosanthia and moving that way with slow steps. "We can continue this discussion, but I was hoping we could take it that way?"

And that welcome warmth! Cryosanthia is soothed, and stays close to bask. On a level amused with herself as she should like the cold. Home, and safe. Her tail slowly metronomes, each sweep a touch on Svarshan's foreleg. He's still here. She forms a pleasant smile on her face and dips her nose towards Arisha. Her words are also slow and deferential, "Peace be upon your nest. This one is Cryosanthia, Speaker-Caste, Service to the Empress."

Ezil get an arguably less-friendly grin, as her mouth looks significantly more maw-like and shows off all her teeth, but he would be familiar with her making faces and recognize this is one of her more playful teasing ones, "Hey you, you didn't have to come. Sure. Which way?"

The inquisitor's question makes her pause, "There is a name." She doesn't elaborate further.

"...it is a good sstory," Svarshan says to Arisha, warmly. The warrior-caste settles onto his haunches, with his arms folded in front of him. The eyes are half-way open and a trail of smoke curls, lazily, from the side of his muzzle.

A lizard, sunning itself on a rock.

He quiets then, and looks towards the softskins. Just...there. Presumably the other-caste will use words. He trusts them to make the situation make...sense. What does warrior-caste do, one might as well have asked aloud. Though, it comes across indirectly; the shift of scale. The flick, repositioning of the muscles along the side of the tail.

The auras push outwards, again. Warm. "One is ssworn to the Dragonfather. ...where did you hear the sstars?" he asks.

Arisha says, "I know there is a name, but I would like to know more of it, if anyone knows. And I wanted to see some community things when I came here as well." She then looks to everyone, but Svarshan last. "It's time I stopped lashing out at everyone and tried to help them.""

Ezil sighs at Svarshan, eyeing him for a moment more as he asks his question. "I don't know, but being tied to the Dragonfather means you are tied in ways to Telmentar. One guides the day, the other guides the night. It might be that you feel familiar because of it." he offers, but he does not know how to describe what he feels emanating from the Sith-Makar. It is new to him. Arisha gets a glance, her abrupt words just earning a nod and a half-smile.

To Cryosanthia, Ezil takes two more slow steps, speaking softer. "You left as soon as we got back from.... well. 'The Incident'. I felt something might be wrong, so I came." yes, that's about all to his explanation about being here.

Cryosanthia doesn't appear to want to move however. The way she curls down into a small crouching ball so she can lean against Svarshan's side and foreleg is a big indication. Her tail curls across her shins, then tucks in behind her. She gazes up at where Ezil stands, simply looking. Her eyes wide and pale, watching, without betraying anything. She seems about to speak several times, then closes her mouth wordlessly. Blinking, eyes closed, she pats the ground beside her then holds out her hand. Leaving it held in the air.

Her answers are for Arisha, although they come with a small shake of her head. "This one knows. This one forgot. This one can't tell. The Lady Grey had her eye on this one twice last night and much has fled this one's mind. Another time, this one could put on a guided show, but Mictlan is to be a safe nest for Hatchling and younglings and not casual spectacle."

"the Incident?" Arisha says pointedly. "What happened?" She says before looking to Cryosanthia. "If the Grey Lady were to come for you.....you would have answered her call by now. If it is not your time....it is not your time." Arisha says before putting her hand on Cryo's shoulder. "Believe me. I believed I should have been dead many many times, but....when she comes for you....it will not be to wrest you painfully, from your body. It will simply feel like you're taking a comfortable sleep, and rejoining your friends." She then smiles to her....anot pulls back the hood of her cloak...revealing she's a Mul'niessa....with an eye patch over her left eye. "Even me......One who is not normally wanted in most circles."

The warrior-caste tilts his head to the side. He begins to answer Arisha--and then the other softskin moves. He moves as well--slowly, yet, somehow, swift enough to interpose himself. Quietly, comfortably. Not threatening, no. Just.../there/.

"Warrior-caste protects," he says, deliberately calm tones. "This place is ssafe, it will be made ssafe. There is no darkness here, in their auras." He looks up towards Ezil, the expression quiet. One might say warm, towards the softskin--the claws are tucked away, and underneath. The teeth covered and ne'er risked exposed.

"The Dragonfather honors the Hearthmother," he says, companionably, to Ezil. To the pale scale: "One knows Arisha, sspeaker," he says in that same, warm voice. "Perhaps sspeaker--prone to dramatics. Much like a keeper," he says and the lids lower and a sort of chuckle, rumble starts in the back of a throat. A puff of smoke as he resettles on the earth.

Ezil looks to Svarshan with a soft sigh, stepping back then. "I mean no harm. I am worried for the White-One." his hand gesturing to Cryosanthia as he gives up trying to check on her. "We were set upon by demons. A mission the Explorer's Guild asked us upon, but because of the nature of it, the Sunguards kept the secret too long. We were ambushed in a cart, and... it was a wild time." he explains, looking to Arisha, and then back to Svarshan. "The fires, and taint had taken our party hard, but we prevailed. Barely." trying to be as honest as he can. "I have some information to share with my friend, but I was worried because the night was rough on her. It was rough on all of us."

There's a moment of undisguised, irrational fear when Cryosanthia gets a good look at Arisha. Svarshan would feel her whole body go rigid beside her and detect the scent change. Ezil might recognize one of her 'not good' stillnesses. It quickly passes, she pushes it down before Svarshan's light chastisment. His words encourage her to try and keep it down.

"Yes, we," she gestures at Ezil, explaining for Arisha, "We fought a great demon. This one..." She shrugs. Her armour like Ezil's, shows signs of fire damage, as well as being sliced nearly in half and repaired with a few pieces of leather slapped on, "Fought fine, it was fine. I stabbed, I hit, I didn't flee. It was fine. The demon read minds. Read mine. I'm afraid to even think of it now."

"I'm tired Ezil, I've been drumming all day. You don't have a tail. I've been tail-slapping the ground all day in 3/4 time, and hitting a kick-drum on the off beats, and trying to synchronize the symbols. There's so much, I don't know where to start. He was with me when I got the cup."

Arisha listens to the story...and her remaining eye opens a little bit wider. Rather than ask questions, she steps closer to Cryosanthia.....and begins examining her. Not just her scales, but her armor....then Ezil's. This is not cursory either. Then she begins asking questions. "What did it look like?"

The warrior-caste tilts his head to the side. For a moment, the sleepiness receeds--and Svarshan looks at Ezil. Really, REALLY looks at Ezil. ...and then shifts, opening space where the softskin might draw nearer.

He looks to the other scaled, then. As she speaks--subtle shifts of muscle, of tension. He lowers his muzzle to the earth, across his arms instead of speaking at first--instead of words, immediately. Thinking, reflective. Quiet.

"...it iss never pleasant, a demon'ss powers. What wass found, cannot be unfound. But, a known sstrength can be made into a weakness, sspeaker. ... The cup has been hidden. It will be ssealed in lead, and purified with prayer, divine waters, and ritual." The words are still quiet, still--calm. Warm. He keeps his body language quiet. Warm. Quiet.

Ezil looks to Arisha with a sideways glance, eyes watching her intently. "Ezil is the All-Friend." he says, as if that explains something, though he offers a shrug as her reveal of race doesn't phase him, other than a stolen look or two. Svarshan gets a firm nod. "Good. Cryosanthia had said as much, and I expect no less. I have come to mistrust some who are working on this business with the Shard Tower. I am glad we didn't hand it over. Though I may have found those I seek, they do not seem prepared as much as I would have hoped. I feel lost, Warrior."

To Arisha, he finally explains. "As for the demon... it was rather large, and had wings. Blood that burned like fire, and called forth fireballs as it were a mage at a cookout. I can't explain it in words. I have only faced lesser of its kin till now."

"That is what it looked like, with a wicked blade." Cryosanthia says, and the evidence is under those unskilled repairs. The force to cut that deep in one blow would have moved anyone and a lot of scales are missing underneath. She holds up her hand, pausing, looking directly at Svarshan, asking simply, "Mikilos, Safe?" A lot of context going unvoiced.

She leans against the great drake, breathing slowly. "This one can put last night's events in order. We were called to the Temple of Daeus, took a cart into Redridge, were delayed by the minions and found their demon lord, yet another one, attempting to prevent the ritual to destroy a book. The slain Deusites, were his victims. The battle was fierce. We eventually prevailed." Having highlighted the stages of the evening, she returns to them and fills in more details, who did what, critical words said. As much as she claimed her mind was wiped clean, little escapes her summary narration.

Talking, seems to help, whatever overwound spring in her relaxing as she dives into the Speaker's role.

A tension--through the muscle. The warrior concentrates, and makes it relax. Easy, easy the muscle, the body language. "...You are brave, and sstrong, to have fassed the Tyrant'ss Children."

"..." Svarshan looks up, that same, quiet movement. "Mikilos triess. He is a wizard, and yet, he triess. Trusst him, but keep in your heart that he may fasse temptation. That he doess not think as the People do."

... he pauses again, thinking, turning over one thought and then the next. "One has notes," he says, low voiced. "...we will sshare words, and one will listen. One will sshare what ones knows of fassing this type of creature."

"You may sstay here for a time, and we will sshare words. One will make thiss place ssafe. And the grasse of the Dragonfather will ssee these wounds healed."

"Whomever kept you alive did a very good job of it." Arisha says looking at Cryo's chest. She makes it a point to say that she was kept alive. "I would give that deity something as a thank you for them healing you. Your scales will return in time, I think., but this will be a scar if someone doesn't take care of it." She then looks to Ezil. "And you have some nasty burns as well.....Hopefully you found out what this wretch's name was, or have something it wants. you'll like face him again."

Ezil shakes his head, sighing once more. "I have too many demons I want to slay already. His name would be on a waiting list. I want the Duke, but I doubt I could scratch Eclavdran at all. Though, he's not the one behind this assault." his glance falling to Cryosanthia. "I have reason to believe the Sunguard was part of The Iron Book, and we were being used without being told of their plot. As we found.... demons can read minds, and their secrets were for naught." furrowing his brow, and shaking his head. "Hugh told me a bit, but I don't know what the Vanguard knows, or how to get in touch with her. I was putting some faith in The Iron Book, hoping they could help me find answers, but... I don't think they know much more than I at this point. There are demons everywhere."

"I will. I am. They are looking at it. They know I am vain about my scales and it will be taken care of. So much of the tapestry has been ruined. On the plus side, I found a whole lot loose inside my armour so I'll pick out a nice one for you Ezil." Cryosanthia said, listening to Arisha's advice.

The 'demon's everywhere' comment fishes a thought to the surface, "I have lost track, there were two, perhaps three others in Eclavdran's service? And I met an Egalrin, who had met a small demon at the temples. I don't recall much more. I have lost count, completely, from heresey and eyewitness. And your 'guest', bothers me greatly. We should resolve that. Also bothered that none who knew anything last night would provide names, of the mages responsible or whom they were dealing with."

Arisha listens quietly...as she pours a bit of water over Ezil's burns. The water cools, at least a little.....but what's more alarming is that fact that Arisha's other arm comes out from under the shoulder cloak. It is completely black, like ebony black. it's warm, but not a natural warmth like her right hand. "The names will ahve to come later. Your first priority is to relax...both of you."

Ezil looks to that arm, an eyebrow raising as Arisha tends to his wound. "Is that artifice? Magic?" he asks as he does not listen too well on this relaxing, but does seem to settle a bit. "Every one of your kind I have come across has left me asking questions. Each on different." his tone dripping, and letting out a breath. "You really don't have to fuss over my wounds. I will heal in time, and I... thought it not worth trouble."

Cryosanthia gets his half-smile, but at the mention of his 'guest' he looks away and nods once again. "I know, but Mikilos is missing for the moment, but.... a demon? At the Temple? That's dicey, White-One. Many could see it there. It's why I have kept the guest away."

"Zeke has limbs similar, though his are sapphire crystal." Cryosanthia offers, "Zeke is a blue-scale, very knowledgeable. He is researching this task also. And Ezil, let her take care of you."

She shakes her head, "Mikilos is missing? When did this happen?"

She sighs and leans back against Svarshan's comforting, unyielding form, "I am relaxed, I can feel the space between every vertibrae from my tailtip to my head. I can barely lift my arms. I shall be pain tomorrow."

"You shall be fine tomorrow. It's simply called 'being sore'. you'll get past it." Arisha says softly before she looks to the skeleton. "I shall continue my research here later. I'm sure the Sunguards and Sunblades will need to look into your demons in more detail. Just be careful who you speak to." She says before moving towards the skeleton again. "Rest well when you sleep."

Svarshan listens quietly, as a warrior does.

Ezil nods his head, going quiet for a brief moment and looking around Mictlan. His question goes unanswered, but he looks back, and raises a hand to Arisha, calling lightly after her. "Thank you, Executor." and then turning to focus on Cryosanthia. "He has, and rumors say he's in quarantine for the plague." sighing a third time this night. "It means my guest is staying a bit longer if it's true."

"This one is worried he will not stay contained, eating cold soup. That he reads your mind at night. That somehow, mere existance will tempt you. That younglings passing beneath his window might not be safe if he can reach low." Cryosanthia rambles, speculating, "This one worries about you. All have advised me that his presence is foolish. This one isn't arguing the past decisions, only that we move somehow move. None I've sought have said 'yes, this one banishes outsiders'. It is chasing bugs under rocks."

"I am not a cleric, and I do not understand the workings of the Temple, but I gave my word to see him home safe, and free of Eclavdran. He has not said anything, nor has his actions show him going against his word. However, I agree. He is dangerous, and I can't deny that." Ezil's words soft, speaking low so that the younglings should not hear. "They lie, and they cause harm and mischief wherever they go.... but you heard him wail, and beg as I did. He gave his word, and he upheld it. I am obligated to uphold mine. I don't know where Mikilos is, but he said he could do it without harm." shaking his head, seeming to be doing a lot of that this night. "I may of made a mistake, but I heard something more that scares me. Have you ever heard of 'The Wild Hunt'?"

Cryosanthia sounds simply weird, when she's using sith sentence structure with human elaboration and wordiness. Perhaps it's closest to how her thoughts occur, before she translates them. "Yes, I have, one of the servants of the Fae Queen. When Jorge described the horned man in the woods, I worried it might be him. Mikilos, described him during speculation. What worries you about him?"

Ezil shakes his head. "No, that... is correct, but I meant what happens when you break an oath made on the plane of spirits. There is a being called The Huntsman, and he comes for you. He will run you all night, and seeks to collect oath-breakers, and stuff them in his sack." The Paladin seems serious, something about it making him grow still. "You have a chance at life if you can appease him, and make for a good hunt, but I would not chance it. If this tale is true... I will keep my word. My oath is my life."

Svarshan remains relaxed and sprawled out, fulfilling the role the palescale seems to need right now, of a strong, protective presence. Through demeanor he is keeping things calm. There are other sith present, watching discretely from a distance. He does not want to scare them, or add to the upset folks would already feel at facing down a demon or devil. An aura of security surrounds him, and despite his casual body language he is intently concentrating on keeping things appearing low-key.

"Oh I would make it an entertaining hunt. I would put bells on my hips and play the entire forest as my giant drumkit, then at the end turn tail on him with a limeric so sharp he would fall into two pieces." The white-scaled sith hisses a low laugh, then she peers at her friend, "Is this another end you saw in the visions, or are your dreams become corrupted with this?"

Ezil looks up to Cryosanthia, shaking his head. "It was a warning from someone when I told them about the oath. It's a real thing, not of the mirrors." trying to smile, but it does seem he's being deadly serious. "He has walked this realm apparently, and tried to take oath-breakers."

Cryosanthia leans over, across her folded legs and stretches out an arm while she supports herself with the other. She taps the banded male in various spots, head tilted as she listens intently to the sound of the little plates. They're all very similar in sound, but a few have different enough sounds as to be distinctive. After a couple minutes of this exploratory effort, she poises her hand, then plays Ezil's banded mail like a xylophone. Kink, plink, ding, pling, dit, dak, di di, klun. "Take me along when he comes for you. It'll be more entertaining."

Ezil smirks at first, but soon he's laughing as the Sith-Makar plays, waving her off after a moment. "I get what you're meaning. Though I simple can't lose my grace by breaking my word. A promise is a promise, and Telmentar sees all." he says with a wink. "Whatever happens, I will do what must be done, but I know many think I was foolish. When I am not, people complain. When I am... people complain. It's simply life at this point."

"It is, yes it is too." Cryosanthia sits back against Svarshan, who seems to have basked himself to sleep, and then adjusts once more. Seemingly snake-like, coils, stretches and bends and ends in position lying mostly on the ground that looks like it should be uncomfortable but apparently isn't. "This one will stay here with Svarshan and perhaps talk, perhaps be silent. It is a dark walk to the Wayfarer inn, and there is no tent it would be appropriate to put you in, but you would be undisturbed should you sleep right there on the ground. Respect for Svarshan might even keep younglings distant. Tomorrow, I drum, and perhaps we might find other things out, but the night is done."

Ezil takes his cloak, shifting and setting himself on the ground. The man really doesn't seem to know how to relax, but he does take that advice and moves to undo his banded mail. "I will sleep then, and will talk more in the morning. Svarshan has questions, and I will answer." taking time to undo his plates and buckles, but resting he does eventually.