In Which there is Love

Protected, as always, from the changes in temperature and snow of the Winter months, one yet cannot miss the changes of the season. The trees have shed their leaves, and are laid bare for the coming months, while the whistling of wind brings the promise of Winter's cold and blustery storms.

Inside the hallowed space protected by the ancient's bones, a certain copper-scale Sith methodically chops wood. Protected by Mictlan's warmth, he wears but a comfortable wrap, showing off both smooth orange scales, and deep scarring across his chest and back.

WHACK. Another log is split in twain, each piece adding to a growing pile on either side of a large stump used to hold the logs level. Geir deftly snatches up the next wooden victim, and lines up another chop.

Newly come to Mictlan, Zeke is contrarily dressed for the winter weather. A heavy robe of white covering his frame as well as a pair of pants meant to accommodate the legs of a sith-makar as well as a long waving tail. It flick-flicks behind him, betraying his nervousness as much as his scent to the other sith who are nearby. The blue-scale makes his way slowly but determinedly toward Geir, but stops several feet away to watch him work. Seemingly unwilling to interrupt.

A few more logs meet their fate of being chopped down for firewood, a few big enough to require a few whacks. But his posture does change as Zeke approaches, a certain tension, of realization. He nods once. "Peace on your nesst.", he rumbles cheerfully.

Geir's expression is one of good humour as he turns about to face Zeke, the axe going from useful tool to a thing to be leaned on in one fluid motion. "You have been travelling.", the copper-scale surmises. "Are you sstaying for a time?"

"Peasssce on your nessst." Offers Zeke in return, automatically, but with a trace of warmth added to it. He seems pleased to see Geir as well. "Thisss one hasss been traveling, but there isss much to do thessse daysss. Thisss one can not ssstay for too long, but thisss one heard that you were here and did not want to misss a chansce to sssee you."

The corners of his mouth curl upwards minutely, a small habit likely brought on by the plethora of soft-skins living in and around the area, and from his travels to Alexandria. Stepping forward, Geir offers his hand. "It is good to ssee you once more, Zeke. How... how are you faring? Thiss one has often wondered how.. how it came to be that you yet live, and how you have navigated the fog and maze the tower.. and those in it.. put into your mind." The copper-scale's voice and expression drop. "This one missed you terribly. And venting anger on deserving people did nothing to fill the void left behind. Thiss one was sshocked at the suddenness of your return." Zeke takes Geir's hand gently, shifting his tail in amusement at the softskin gesture of welcome. It seems that they have both of them been much affected by the presence of softskins around them. "Thisss one doesss well. Though..." His eyes darken somewhat and he sighs. "Thisss one issss not wholly sssure at timesss that thisss one isss entirely recovered. Though..."

He looks up, expression softening and his demenor relaxing. "Thisss one isss glad to sssee you again. Thisss one misssed you asss well. Thisss one ssshould have mentioned leaving, but the need to go wasss presssing and... Thisss one did not wisssh to worry you."

A flash of anger briefly washes over Geir's expression, and the copper-scale inhales and exhales deeply. "Thiss one would take you out of this place, and away from those who would press and manipulate you. Thiss one had a plan. But there wass always ssomething else more pressing."

"This one iss pained. Thiss one followed you, in his young life. Thiss one bled with you. For you." The scales along his ridgeline begin to slowly stand on end, starting at his nose and extending along his head, and down his back.

"How could you think that thiss one would not worry in your prolonged abscennnccce?" The last word morphs into an extended hiss, complete with an acrid smell, and plume of smoke trailing from Geir's nostrils.

For the most part, Zeke can say nothing, but when Geir's anger raises its head, Zeke bows his own and looks at the earth rather than his old companion. "Thisss one... Thought for ssso long that it wasss not posssible that othersss would care for thisss one. That thisss one wasss... broken." He is too large a sith to make himself disappear, but he can make himself small. That is something he is good at. "Thisss one did not feel that thisss one desserved sssuch thingsss. Not even the feelingsss that thisss one had. Thisss one could not imagine that they would be returned."

It takes all of Zeke's willpower to lift his eyes again. To look at Geir. "Thisss one hasss learned rescently otherwissse. That thisss one... might be desserving."

The anger veers quickly into sadness, and Geir shakes his head. "Not might. Iss. You are deserving." The copper-scale slowly approaches, a hand reaching out for the crystalline side of the blue-scale, as if to grasp the shoulder.

"This one wishess that he could find a way to.. balance the sscales. Those that have added to your missery must tasste... the pain they have inflicted. Including thiss one."

Zeke allows the touch, almost seeming to lean into it. He shakes his head at Geir. "Thisss one would never wisssh ill on you Geir. You have done no-thing to desserve sssuch. You have always been there for thisss one. Thisss one..." He hesitates here. "Would thank you for that."

GAME: Geir rolls sense motive: (11)+7: 18

The touch turns into support as Zeke leans a little, and the touch turns into an arm reaching around behind, becoming a one-armed hug. Geir gently tugs at Zeke, gesturing at the stump. "Let us ssit and have wordss, my old friend. Thiss one would ssee things mended between us. Nothing held back, yess?"

The blue-scale easily submits to the half-hug, seeming more comfortable with the closeness than he has ever been before. He follows Geir to the stump, and sits down slowly. His movements careful. "Thisss one doesss not hardly know where to begin Geir." He offers his words softly, looking around at the other places nearby. There are hearths here. Many of them. With younglings and hatchlings running about as their elders watch them while they huddle around the warmth. Even without the chill of winter here, the hearth is the center of all sith activity.

Even Geir's hearth is nearby, one tent out of many, but having been set long enough to almost be a permanent fixture.

"This one has always loved you.", the copper-scale says, scarcely louder than a whisper, seemingly a breath, but loud enough for Zeke to hear. "The day you left, and thiss one followed, that wass the start." Another waft of acrid smoke streams out of his nostrils, before he coughs and waves it away. "Firsst it wass in hope of friendship. Kinship. A ssense of adventure not found in thiss one's tiny hamlet." A chuckle, a rumbling deep in his throat follows.

"Later it wass in hope of love. Ssomething others of our kind might have deemed unnatural. Not everyone. But certainly thosse closesst to us, yes? Your... no, she does not desserve to be called anything polite..."

Zeke looks at Geir and he simply ceases to move. Not to breath, not for anything. Then, quite suddenly, he is hugging Geir with both arms. Holding him. Pressing him tightly to himself. There's no hope of avoiding it. "Thisss one hassss alssso. You have been in thisss onesss heart the whole time." He makes a soft sound of joyful sadness and presses Geir tighter to himself. He is a swell of emotion that can not be expressed in word or sound. He pulls back his expression tight with the need to explain everything, but there aren't _words_.

"Thisss one... thisss one isss ssso sssorry, to not sssay it before now."

Geir makes a surprised noise at the sudden hugging, perhaps due to the suddenness of it, or the fact that it is almost alien to Zeke’s normal attitude and behaviour. Too prim and proper, or fearful of the merest touch.

"Thiss one... susspected such. But, alas, thiss one wass at times too awkward, and at otherss, something consspired to sseparate us."

"There iss alsso the matter of yourss and Cryo's c... c.." He snorts then, letting loose another huff of smoke. For the next few moments, he simply exists in the embrace.

At length, he shakes his head. "An apology iss not neccesssary. There are many thingss for which we might owe apologies to each other, but not thiss."

At length, Zeke releases Geir, perhaps realizing that he has strayed from what might be socially acceptable. He shakes his head. "Thisss one felt resssponsssible for Cryosssanthia. For ssso long." He sighs and shakes his head. "Ssshe needed thisss one, and being accepted by sssome-one wasss all that thisss one could hope for at that time. Thisss one did not feel dessserving of..."

He looks at Geir, touching the other male lightly on the cheek with his flesh-and-blood fingers. "You. You are young and vital. You are beautiful and thisss one isss... Ssstill learning to accept thisss onessss ssself. It feelsss sselfisssh to asssk you to accept any part of thisss one."

The copper-scale looks slightly taken aback, or perhaps it is embarrassment.

Letting out a huff of breath through his nostrils, Geir gives Zeke the slightest nudge with a shoulder. "Thiss one has never thought of himself as beautiful. Perhapss, just sso, an image of a sstrong, and wisse, Sith-makar. Rugged, or imposing, when fully armored and prepared for the worsst." Another rumble from his throat can be heard, the corners of his mouth curling upwards lightly. "But beautiful? Thiss one believes it iss the wrong word to desscribe him."

A coppery hand reaches up to gently take the blue one upon his cheek, and squeezes lightly. "One sshould not feel that one is sselfish for asking for what one wishess to have. The worsst thing that one might expect iss... iss that the feelings are not mutual. Thiss one, sshould he have rejected you, would have alwayss done sso gently. With humility and dignity."

Zeke huffs an amused noise. "Perhapsss you do not sssee beauty there, but thisss one doesss." He chuckles. "Thisss one... Thisss one expected that you would reject thissss one... today. Thisss one came here to finally ssay thessse thingss to you."

He is so pleased to find that Geir feels similarly to him, that he can hardly stop his tail from shifting back and forth behind him. To stop the warmth that lingers in his bones. "Then to hear you sssay that you feel sssuch for thisss one... It isss an unexpected pleasssrue."

"This one thinkss as much of you as you do of him. Thiss one has alwayss admired the deepness of your blue." Geir's eyes note the swishing tail, the grin creeping further from the corners. His own tail rests almost upon the ground, the tip curling and uncurling, much like a large cat's.

"And the sstrength that could be found in you. Of conviction. Of being able to move forward. Surprissing people with your sstrength." His expression falls slowly.

"But what now? Of us? Between us, what can exisst? What are your dutiess?"

Zeke is clearly embarrassed by the complements. Such are not the usual for him, and he does not quite know what to do with such things. He curls his tail around his own leg and considers Geir's question instead. "Thisss one wissshesss to have you in thisss onesss life Geir. Alwaysss hasss, and likely alwaysss will. Thisss onesss hass duty to the Dragonfather; that will alwaysss remain, thisss one hass duty to thisss onesss kin... but." He looks into Geir's eyes. "Thiss one hasss a duty equally to love. It isss a gift of the Dragonfather, and thisss one would no longer abandon it."

"Are you still bound to Cryossanthia?", Geir says softly, almost more a breath than words. "Thiss one... doess not wissh to make your life difficult, if you and she are still... you know." Both coppery hands now hold that one blue one. His expression brightens once again. "Thiss one is still bound to the Deathdragon, he is her servant. But even she might smile to see one happy, yess?"

"Thisss one isss not bound to her." Zeke says with certainty. "We have parted waysss and there remainsss not-thing more between usss." It was a complicated relationship that Zeke shared with Cryosanthia, but it was gone now. He wished the female well, but... he could no longer abide her as a presence in his life. Had not seen or spoken to her in months. "Thisss one truly believesss that love isss a gift of our godsss Geir. That we both feel thisss way, and for one another... that isss a gift."

"This one musst be honest.", the copper-scale says softly. "Thiss one found comfort in another, as it seemed you had found Cryosanthia. And when you set out, on your own, thiss one took great comfort in her. Thiss did not change thiss one's feelingss for you."

He takes a lengthy breath, and lets it out slowly. "Thiss one hass not sseen her in ssome time, and knows not where sshe hass gone. It iss like... you leaving, all over again. Insside."

Zeke takes Geir's hands gently in his own. Crystal and flesh. It doesn't seem to matter anymore. "Thisss one underssstandsss. Thisss one doess not mind that you found comfort in the armsss of another. Thisss one isss sssorry to have left, and to have left a pain in you." He squeezes Geir's hands. "Thisss one would heal that hurt by being here for you now; if you will allow."

"Hmm, jusst sso.", Geir intones. "The ssoftsskins have an odd ssaying, one which this one hass only jusst understood. 'You only hurt the ones you love.'. Ssomething one might think odd, and yet, it iss exactly what we have done, iss it not?" The copper-scale slowly rises, and once again cups Zeke's hands in his. His hand then slides down the blue-scale's real arm, grasping at the forearm. "Let us attend to my duties, and then take a meal together. We can sspeak have more words, catch each other up in our livess. Perhaps... not share too much of my bed together, but at leasst sshare warmth, yess?"

Zeke can only nods soft sad agreement to Geir's words of wisdom. They have indeed hurt one another, him moreso than Geir. Yet they have a path forward, and that is all that can be asked. "Thisss one likesss the sssound of that, yessss." He wags his tail behind him, allowing Geir to draw him up. They both have things in their lives to attend to, but Zeke had hope now. Hope that both of them would find a lightening in their lives with the other more fully in it.

Another rumble sounds deep in Geir's throat. "Jusst sso!" He stoops and retrieves a piece of chopped wood, which he offers to Zeke. "Thiss one was ready to replenish the fuel for the People's campfires. Afterwards, dinner will seem amazing no matter what dish it iss." It does not take long for the copper-scale to fill the blue-scales arms with firewood.

-End