White-Flower, You are Here. Now

Log Info

• Title: White-Flower, You are Here. Now
• Emitter: Cryosanthia
• Characters: Faranmidahn, Ezil, Cryosanthia
• Place: A10: Temple of Daeus
• Time: Monday, March 30, 2020, 1:13 AM
• Summary: The New Old Me. Faranmidahn and Ezil come to visit Cryosanthia at the Temple where she is resting. She is pleased to see them, although Ezil is angry at what transpired in his absence, and Faranmidahn is deeply distraught. The little lucht feels overlooked and inconsequential after the events in Fernwood, and that she betrayed her friend. Cryosanthia explains the secrets she kept, regarding her experiences and fears. In particular her capture, and the experiments done on her in Charnath before she came to Alexandria. Their recent mission into Charnath after Gilead's Horn, had brought all that back for her in a bad way when she entered the sacrificial slave pit and saw all her people there. Cryosanthia expresses that it's not inconceivable that her feelings of worthless and fear were enough to make her attack her biggest one, a powerful wizard. This doubt seems incompatible with the time with Salina, and her sense of accomplishment. Ezil is nearly inconsolable and wants revenge, and Cryosanthia does her best to sooth both of them, carrying the small knight in a dance, then hug-squishing her against the larger one, while throat-singing a comforting warble. Faran feels a small hope that the Cryo she knew isn't gone, only buried under layers, and that with the right digging she will be her old self once more.

-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=<* A10: Temple of Daeus *>=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-

The temple of the Sun Lord glitters golden beneath the same. Rather than walls, the majority of the temple is composed of what appears at first blush to be a raised round platform made of one of the largest slabs of marble likely in existence. Columns rise into the air as if to hold some massive ceiling, though instead of a normal ceiling, one finds the deep blue sky, studded by a disconcertingly close canopy of bright stars. One should not worry, however, as the rain never falls, and the wind never blows on this particular temple, but for a gentle breeze, whatever the weather outside may be.

Despite the austerity of the columns, warmth suffuses the grounds. A grand, marble statue of the Shining Knight stands a the center, a hand outstretched in benediction. Beside Him, the statue of Althea, their hands clasped in love. The central position of the temple to the others gives view to all of their children, and the two look upon one another with the solemnity of love that has been the center of so many tales and legends.

Masterfully designed mana lamps provide further soft, golden lightning where needed, their pedestals carved in the form of the Dragons of Light, over which Daeus is said to have dominion in His form of Draco Solis. Majesty, justice, and welcome suffuse the temple grounds. Around the central temple are a series of smaller buildings, each with a simple function and form. One houses the sacred book depicting some of the earliest known translations of the Laws of Light, which pilgrims from near and far come to visit. Another houses the well-appointed quarters of the Sunguards, and among all the ground bristle the Sunblades.

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-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-  Appearing, in Order  -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
Faranmidahn  3'3"     35 Lb      Halfling          Female    Albino Lucht woman in black leather armor with a BIG spider
Ezil         5'11"    175 Lb     Human             Male      An armored man with dark skin, and grey-blonde hair.
Cryosanthia  6'9"     267 Lb     Sith-Makar        Female    A dashingly tall, elegant white-scaled lizard woman.
-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=

It's another night. The walk was quiet and the normally chipper young Lucht seemed weary and somewhat withdrawn. After encountering Ezil in the outer district after basking in the warmth of Gilead's horn, in the hope of rekindling something, she had informed him that Cryo had been brought her to recover from the aftermaths of a magic test gone terribly awry. And so, after making nice with the temple priests, and still bereft of her armor, the albino knocks at the chamber door, "Cryosanthia, are you awake?"

Ezil waits for an answer too, his plate mostly hidden by his cloak, a helmet carried carefully under his right arm as he looks to Faramidahn with a quirked brow. "You sure she's here? I hadn't heard anything happened to her." asking quietly, shifting on his feet and looking away. "I go shopping for a couple days, and the world just.... tilts."

There is no response. Typically when Zeke is present, he will answer and intervene. This does not happen. However, Cryosanthia rarely goes out unless she has a purpose, and that has been absent since her return. So, she's in there. Silent.

"Yes. This one is here Faranmidahn. A moment. Is someone with you?" It sounds like her, a little huskier. Perhaps she has a cold.

Faranmidahn pauses, murmuring a rueful, "Faran...." but nods, likely to her own benefit as the door is closed, "I have Ezil with me, may... may we enter?" She takes a deep breath awaiting the answer and is obviously trying to perk herself up.

Ezil furrows his brow as he hears the familiar voice, nodding at something. "It is, Ezil." he says louder, a bit more clearly as a small glance is flashed to Faran, shrugging. "Like I said. World tilted I guess."

"Ezil?" There is excitement in that voice. The door is thrown open. The paladin is embraced.

For someone of the Vast familiar with fractured time, the experience of encountering a loved one, rapidly aged, is a startling experience but also somewhat common. It happens, perhaps not a direct family member, but everyone knows someone that knows someone. It might be a little more shocking in Alexandria, which such things are rare, even if one accepts the possibility.

The first impression is Cryo is larger. She grew into her name. Cryosanthia is taller, heavier, stronger in both her physical presence, power, and scent, all of which overwhelm the paladin when she embraces him. "Blessed Follower of the Stars, I've missed you."

Faranmidahn gets carried away by the door but is spared injury by the door forming a triangle with the wall. The portal is allowed to swing some way back on it's own before the little woman steps out from behind to see how this goes... for both of them, idling wringing her hands.

Ezil looks after Faranmidahn, seeing her swept away, but before he can speak... Cryosanthia is on him. "I...wh..." stunned now as he doesn't understand what he's seeing. "What happened?!" he gets out, returning that hug, but then reaching to pull the door away from his smaller friend. "I.. I was gone three to four days. You look.... YEARS, older." that gain of weight and power noticed. "Did you fall into a door from The Vast?" his attention scattered at this revelation.

Her voice is deeper. She has large, sweeping horns. Her keratin crest is full, she has larger scales on her eye ridges, and patches about on elbows, knees. Even her scales look thicker. All animal species have stages, features that let one recognize juvenile, young adult, adult, and so on, and even to a human with only a few sith friends, the differences are dramatic. She passed a plateu. She wears what seems to be a practial wizards robe as well, layered to move with her, decorated with small patterns which on close inspection are snowflakes.

Cryosanthia releases Ezil and smiles, shaking her head. "Come in, sit. I will make tea." She turns and strides across the room like she owns it. Her tail low. Her movements are minimal and the robes have a way of making her seem to glide. "I grew old Ezil, in the service of the Fae Queen, Salina. A lot has happened in those four days, so long ago."

The white-scaled sith-woman turns with a tray and a few glasses, "iced tea, let it steep a while longer." She sets the tray down.

Faranmidahn watches in silence, lowering her chin some in turn but she doesn't move, not yet. It's as the train moves inside that she finally deigns to follow, feet lifting only enough that the fluff shrouding them whispers along the stone with each step.

"Shit..." is all Ezil says at first, following Cryosanthia into the room as he looks back to Faranmidahn with a sympathetic glance. "Forgive me for the words I am about to say. They won't be very Althean." tuning back to his now much more 'mature' friend. "So Salina, and Kol did this? I heard you had aged, but this is.... DAMNIT!." a bit angry, but not anyone in the room. "How long did they keep you? Clearly the Shard Tower can do what we were told! Time travel?!" his mind a a bit blown as he looks for a seat, his helmet set aside, but he winds up just pacing.

All the while, Ezil keeps tossing a glance at Cryo, eyes searching and taking in those changed features. "I don't even know what to say." though a plan is formulating in his mind.

"Faranmidahn, come in also, please. You are welcome, always. I will ask for a taller chair so feel moreso. You will have to make do with a wrong-sized one for now." Cryosanthia says pleasantly. She is minimal in all her motions, they seem very efficient, very controlled. She wears her white-scale gloves, and remarkably, the gold mind-shielding ring.

She leans forward, looking directly into the paladin's face. There are a lot more features to her face now, everywhere. "I stayed Ezil, by choice. Decades. Kol was a factor, but not in the way you think and my home does indeed Time Travel. Former home."

The corners of her mouth curl into a smile. "I should apologize, for leaving and making you feel so. It was impulsive and has upset everyone."

Faranmidahn spends a moment closing the door as the harsh language starts, being as quiet about it as possible. It takes her a second to turn back, but she does with a smile, "Thank you, Cryo." She looks about the chamber as she makes her way to one of the large chairs and unfastens her longsword to lean it against the furniture before she tries to climb into it, crossing her legs at the knee. She throws a furtive glance between the two, but, she doesn't have a clue what words to put forth, either.

"With how much shit I got for my pact with Jerboba, this.... this is insane!" Ezil throws out, looking back to Faranmidahn after she shut the door, and shaking his head at this situation. "Tell me the story at least? Because the plan I have right now isn't the smartest, but I would like to see something done." he says, not explaining what he means, but the man is known for brash decisions, and he has demonic connections. Some the Cryosanthia knows is tied to the Shard Tower. "Why would you stay? Why do this to yourself?" yes, the man wants some answers, but after a few more quick questions he begins to calm. A little. "I... I am sorry, but I need some answers White-One. This sounds like madness." his last words more just upset at what she's been through. Raising a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose, Ezil sighs. "Did you learn anything?"

"There is a lot to tell. I remember things, but they are dreamlike and hazy, with pieces missing. I remember feelings, scents, my body remembers a lot. Salina corrupted my memory quite often. I know several times I stepped into the tower, thinking I had seconds earlier left Fernwood, only to find notes I'd hidden. Perhaps she was curious to see 'Cryo's arrival', over and over, to see if I would do something different. Perhaps she felt I had developed in too bothersome a way. Perhaps I asked to forget. I'm not sure. She was unhappy I aged, this irritated her, as if it was a thing I could stop, but wouldn't." Cryosanthia explains. She smells like something. A sith would know. Occasionally her breath is visible in the air, it seems cooler close to her. There's a little modulation to her voice, but everything she says sounds very neutral and disinterested, apart from the earlier enthusiastic greeting. "I did. I've been informed there is one other who escaped with memories... ah... Seldan does not want it discussed. He seems to have this impression I tell everyone's secrets. I tease. My plan when I left was to stay as long as I could to find a way to remember things, do whatever she asked. She promised to let me stay until I wanted to return. Perhaps she finally determined what I was up to and sent me back. I have a hard time believing that, though."

The imposing sith woman exhales, and it sounds loud and animalistic compared to her very controlled tones. "I have a fear. Zeke has assurred me it is unnecessary. Kol, the Vampires of Veyshan, the experience with Gilead's Horn, that took me back to Charnath in a bad way."

"Doubt has crept back, that I was attacking a fear."

Faranmidahn's knees slowly draw up as the two talk as the Lucht maintains her silence. It's important now to understand, to guage what Cryo remembers and... what she feels, understands. That's what she tells herself. By the time the story comes back to the Horn of Gilead her eyes glitter amongst shadows, a small triangle of offwhite flesh not shrouded by the encompassing ivory and bone fluff of her hair.

"I don't forgive your choice. It irks me. It makes me mad." Ezil says, his words a bit harsh. It's only after that he speaks in a soft, and calm tone resembling his normal self. "I do understand... but I still think it foolish." admitting this with a hefty shake of his head, and finally finding a seat. "I suspect the journey for the Horn, and all that came of it would do that. I know Kol struck some fear into you I can't understand, but all this does is make me want to tear the tower down brick by brick." pausing after his words and sighing again. "If it's even made of brick! You know what I mean. This.... this is upsetting, and we need to end it. End whatever it is the Fae Queen is up too." letting his glance grow distant, mulling over what Cryosanthia said.

"I was young, my passions ran fast. I kept secrets." Cryosanthia explains. She pauses, takes up her tea, holds it delicately and takes a sip. A very precise motion, and she sets it down. Her tail is straight out behind her on the bed, hasn't moved, nor much have her legs. "I don't believe I ever told you in as many words. I was with a hunting expedition, checking on villages. We were captured. I was enslaved. My friends were tortured. I believe they died. I was experimented on, that's how I came by my magic. The blood of other sith, poison, and spells, forced into me. I was a spell book and a familiar. One day the magic worked for me. I plotted, I escaped, I killed her, freed who I could and fled. It was a lot like what we went through. I suspected I had open bindings carved into me, any wizard who saw them could snap their fingers and own me. This is why they terrified me so."

Describing all this provokes no reaction in her, almost as if it is another's story, or often repeated. A detail from a time long ago. "Am'shere sent me to Alexandria, because I was upset enough they believed I would be chased, and safer here. However here, I found a mages everywhere, vampires, mul'niessa that openly speak of their worship of Taara. You know I enjoyed the Crimson Pen, stories of women attempting to change a bad person. Was my solution to being afraid of being captured, to simply ask for it instead? I doubt this motivation, but so many things went wrong that week, she was an escape."

"And it's stone. Here feels like home, so I think it's stone."

Terror. Terror and rage. Faran knows what she saw that night... she knew after some thought on the way back from that mission. She.... had no idea of how deep it went. How much... how much her friend must have feared... have feared her, for her own magic. No words come, still. Her gaze draws inward, the choice... could have happened anytime the scenario came up, the hounds nipping at Cryo's psyche... Gods... the scenario only came about... it only happened then, because... Almost silence, and naught visible but hair as the lucht buries her face in her knees.

Ezil is quiet for a long moment, letting that part of the tale sink in, and looking to the floor after a time. "I don't feel fears like that. I'm... shielded by my auras and divine gifts. I forgot that others still do." his words low, solemn as his breathing become staggered, trying to grasp with the upset Cryosanthia must of felt, or had been dealing with. "I don't blame you for wanting to escape, but.... that was trading one prison for another, White-One. I... what did you get from it?" Upset, clearly as he looks up to the Sith-Makar. "You look like you were gone for more than my lifetime, and that's not something I can take lightly. I want to try and undo this... but I don't know if we can. If..." looking away again as he had heard bits and pieces, but not the full tale of things. "You have friends... we care. Lots." not knowing what to say once again.

Cryosanthia turns her head and observes Faranmidahn. She doesn't blink, her breathing is regular. It seems a disinterested curiousity to her. She watches, to see what happens next, and then her tail twitches. Her disciplined posture breaks, her head ducking down so she looks across at the lucht. "Faranmidahn. You are suffering. Come here, I want to show you something."

She holds out her hand.

The sith woman glances Ezil's way, "There's nothing to undo Ezil, I aged. A human lifetime, you would have seen my like this at your end, had we done it together. I have three and a half centuries more, I'm still young for a sith. My memories of the time, I want to remember, I think, but going back... going back. Would you be five years old again? For more than an afternoon? What is hard is, I know this is me, but my memory is only clear up until the day I stepped out of the Fernwood with her, and stepped back. I know I am this, but my thoughts, how I was, the pain? I processed it long ago, it's strange to have only it again."

There is a little twitch, then a weak, tight, "F-faran....." a pause, a sniff, "M-my f-friends call me.. Faran....!" she says in a thick voice as a seam in the fluffstack appears to reveal her miserable expression. She clenches her eyes shut and slowly unfolds to slip down from the chair. Her confidence, such as it is, wavers as she feels the stone under her feet and she looks away for a moment, then as if drawn by geas, she starts to cross the room to her now ancient friend, and friend she's failed an utterly she couldn't have imagined mere days ago.

Ezil lets those two have their moment to share comfort, growing quiet once more as he moves to undo his gauntlets. He's making himself more comfortable, his thoughts still racing as he looks to watch them for a moment, looking away again. "Well, as much as I want to be part of that. My anger has taken a good hold." his mind latching on to other things. "I suspect I need to talk to Zeke or Seldan, but this can't keep happening to people, but now that it has hit my home... I don't think I can stop until it's done." his bare hand pressing against his chestplate when he speaks those last words. "Some things a tsuran can let go, but when they hit you inside.... action must be taken."

"Oh Faran no..." And it sounds like Cryo, enough, with one's eyes closed, to forget for a second. She glides off the bed, her robe moving like wings and swoops and envelopes the lucht, picking her up, holding her against her chest with her head against her scaley neck, allowing the assuring weight of her head to press on Farans. Her arms are wrapped around, solid barriers. "Listen."

A vibration wells within her. A strong harmonic, a thrumming, a birdlike warble at incredibly low tones. Almost a purr. It surrounds the knight, and so close Cryo's scent is very strong, chasing away other sensations. She is protecting you, "We make this noise to calm our mates, assure our friends. We are there, you're not alone. I wish you had asked to come, if only to have company, but that would be selfish of me. You're safe Faran, I have only fond feelings for you, I must have had pleasant thoughts even thought I can't remember them."

"Ezil, I agree. Plans are in motion. I expect I will be involved, I'll want you there too."

Faranmidahn is engulfed, 'I'm sorry!' she cries, clinging to the sith fervently, 'I-I would have!' sniff, "I... I swear I would have!" 'I don't know why I didn't! I c-couldn't have let you go alone!' she wails, 'It's all my fault!' <halfling>

Ezil stands and looks to Faran with a soft glance, shaking his head at her words. "The fault lies with the ones who caused this, Faran. No one knew what would come of it... not even the White-One." his tone is soft, much like himself again, but there is something lingering in his tone. "I will do what is asked, but I will be part of this.... part of seeing to it ended. Telmentar's light will fond Kol in his darkness, and the Fae Queen will be usurped." his eyes on Cryosanthia. "I do not wish to be left behind again." his distancing from them noticeable, something there in his thoughts putting up a barrier he feels he must hold. "Lots of preparations will need to be made."

Cryosanthia rises up, holding Faranmidahn close, bundled against her chest, and dances with her. She sings, something strange and foreign coming from her mouth, that sounds like the forest and forever. Her thrumming continues at the same time, a different organ or set of vocal chords apparently, and her fingers wiggle. There is the sound of ice crystals and little bells. "You are forgiven. Faran, I love you, please. Be happy. I have returned. I have survived Salina. Nothing will be worse than her. I trusted my instincts, I believe I was right to."

The white-scale sith makar keeps dancing, casting the small musical sounds to go with her rumbling, and singing a few words. "It will be well. I have this impulse poke you in the butt to get back at you for using your lance on me that time, but I shall only say I'm thinking of doing that."

Faranmidahn's grip is desperate at first, guilty sobs with only sporadic words on her mother tongue as seasoning for some time. It's not hard to guess the gist of what she's saying as she's being comforted like a child, "I-I love you, too...!" Her grief cools, likely to a brooding simmer. She eventually can draw her face from Cryosanthia's chest to regard Ezil at his words, eyes seeking, backed by a grim promise. She turns her head back and lifts her chin. A loving squeeze and there is a lingering peck on the scales, "I'm... I'm here for you, Cryo..."

"I will leave you two." his gauntlets put into the satchel at his side, taking up his helmet, but pausing for a moment to talk. "There is much love for you, Cryosanthia. You know I feel it too, but now it's my turn to take some time alone. I need to think." though that isn't all his voice seems to suggest. His upset is not on the surface, not like some. When he spoke of home, he spoke of what it means to be part of the Tsurai. Home is what you keep inside yourself, and that was injured. Badly. "I will visit again soon... maybe bring the little sweet-sausages from the air-docks." smiling softly. "But for now I need to tend something."

"I was alone for a long time. Salina is a presence but is not company. I had the sleeves from Merek, my gloves, and the ring. The ring that pairs with yours. That's all I had to remember anyone with. For decades. Come here Ezil." Cryosanthia commands, holding out her arm towards him. The expression in her eyes is cold, passionless, they have always shown little of what's inside her. The thrumming in her throat breaks a little, as if she choked on the noise.

Faranmidahn curls her fingers and tries to scratch along Cryo's scales a little bit to try and soothe her in turn. She's right next to her neck, she couldn't -not- have heard that hitch in the sith's throat. Her feet wag a little bit in the air, toes flexing and curling as they are wont to do without ground beneath them overlong. She looks to Ezil, then to Cryo and back before she reaches a hand out to him.

Ezil crosses to embrace the two, an arm around Cryosanthia as he dips and lets his breastplate crush the poor Faranmidahn for a moment to make sure he gets her too with his other arm. "White-Flower; pick up your pretty little head, as it will get easier, because your dreams are not dead. The road has both been both long and short, but you are here now." Pressing the side of his head against Cryosanthia's snoot, giving them both a firm hug and letting out a staggered breath. His tsuran accent bleeds into his words more when he's upset, but for once he is not trying to be proper in his way. "If only other eyes can see the souls I do when I look at you both. I see beauty and strength, but I see hurt too." a hand flashed from over Faran's head, showing the Sith-Makar his ring. "I am glad you had something to remember. A reason to come back."

There is life in her yet. At Faran's scratching she softens, a little, her muscles loose some tension. Cryo is on the cool side, her warmest hug isn't going to be all that warm, but she smells nice and sounds nice and there's a security to her weight.

When Ezil embraces her rumbling grows quite loud, and her tail thumps. The sith-makar greeting. Another of their signals used with their own, as Cryo considers Faran and Ezil to be. Her voice is even, without much inflection but not monotone. "Thank you. I remember leaving my marks everywhere so people would remember me, and I was the one to lose myself. I need you. So much is gone. It's hard. Blessed one."

She knows it's coming. She can tell by the angle of his arm that he's going a more direct route and so, as she is now between the two larger people, she exhales silently before the proverbial vice closes so she doesn't, can't make a sound of discomfort. Not now, not here. Her arm tightens some against Cryo, while the other rubs what are meant to be comforting circles against Ezil's back, though his protective vestments curtail that particular comfort in all likelihood. As the pressure releases, and she can surreptitiously draw a breath again, she says, "You found loving friends, Cryo.... I hope you get to meet all that you deserve."

Ezil scoffs at Faran, a fist suddenly in her wild hair, grinding lightly against her scalp. It's not enough to hurt, but the tsking sound Ezil makes almost makes him seem like he's one of the Faring Folk while making his point. "You too." having shifted in that embrace before he withdraws a step, his assault on the Lucht being over. "What do people not understand about, 'all-friend'?" his aura seeming to return with a small smirk. "You felt the hug. You felt the pain. You felt the comfort that came after. You are a cared for too." his glance then cast to Cryosanthia with a wink. "You have me. Always."

Cryosanthia thrums loudly, carefully hugging Ezil and trying to avoid squishing Faran. She is imposing but she is gentle, and she rubs her cheek back against the man as she moves to support the lucht. Then the embrace shifts and she is holding Faran again. When she speaks, she still has most of the expression planed off her words, they are all very monotone. "Thank you Ezil. Sometime soon I would like you to examine me, and tell me if I've become evil."

"Not now though, this one needs to rest again."

Faranmidahn squeaks in surprise as she is suddenly being noogied and she reaches up to return the gesture, alas her's most likely gets somewhere along the back of his skull, "You -do-run with us, don't you?" she giggles. Because most educated people know the Lucht Siuil invented the honored custom of the noogie. She sighs in soothed contentment, for the moment the negativity massaged back into the dark recesses for later, "May you meet your just friends as well, sir all-friend." Cryo's wording brings concern to her features but her magics are inssuficient for such discovery, and with the doubt cast just by the question, she doubts her words would offer much succor.

"I will check when you feel better." Ezil agrees, but the Paladin is already watching Cryo as she moves to rest. Faran's words and actions bring a smile though, dipping into her ministrations of the 'noogie'. "Some. Yes." he answers her with a warmth, watching the Sith-Makar still and nodding to himself. "Get some rest... and feel better, White-One." turning then to draw away toward the door, but pausing. "I didn't look too hard, but... did she leave her mark?" he has to ask before he goes.

Cryosanthia resumes dancing, swaying slowly back and forth, her tail involved now. Her deep kroooning continues as she works her way over to a chair. She sets Faranmidahn down, and re-orders her hair for her. She dances away, all very minimal compared to the things she used to do.

She sits on the bed, a bed strong enough to hold her weight. She nods, removing her left glove. "My casting hand, on the back. It was not desired by I've made peace with it. Not all marks are this obvious and concise, and as you now know, I had many other undesired ones before hers. It is what it is. This is me now. The new old me."

Faranmidahn rides out the dance, taking no small comfort in the sign, another sign that maybe the sith she knew... just the other day, wasn't gone forever. It just... takes the right digging... maybe that can be enough. One day, maybe that can be enough, but the little Lucht is driven anew. Mend. Defend. Avenge. As she is set down, she repeats the soft kiss to her friend's scales before she draws back and looks at her longsword. she can be Cryo's friend... she was still a friend after so many decades. She takes up the weapon with a gentle, "Rest well, Cryo, I'll drop by soon." and she turns to join Ezil on his way out, latching the weapon to her belt. Maybe she's still worthy of being a Knight.

"It is you, and I accept it. I just thought to see it myself." Ezil notes, opening the door for Faranmidahn as he smiles once more. "I'll bring a treat next time I come by." moving to leave the Sith-Makar for the evening. "Get some sleep for now." making to be on his way, drawing the portal shut as he waits for it to latch before he speaks to Faranmidahn. "How in the hells will I find cold iron?"

The white-scaled sith-makar woman stares at the door once it has closed. She waits, as if expecting someone to come in. Perhaps she has years of practice at waiting like this, for the door to open and Salina to be there. Perhaps she is lost in a waking dream, looking within, grasping at phantoms. After a timeless time, she reclines herself on the bed, straightens herself out on her back, stares at the ceiling and falls asleep.

Cryosanthia, Old and New

Cryosanthia Age 21
Cryosanthia is a tall, lithe lizardgirl with flamboyant mannerisms and a flashy style. Her scales are a bright, snow white, complimented by her frills and keratin-scale 'hair' which are the pale blue found in glacial ice. This gleaming tapestry is marred by dark tattoos gouged in her hide, green-black in colouration, which at times have a dark glow. Her snout is long and tapers elegantly. Her legs and tail are likewise graceful, despite being a significant portion of her size and mass. She seems light on her talons and energetic, head glancing quick from side to side. Her eyes are bright and like her frills, the palest of blues with a dramatic slit pupil.

Cryosanthia's clothes are a simple kit of kilted leather armour in white. It is close fitting enough to seem a part of her, but it lacks the lustre of her scales having instead a dull finish. She has sandals that leave her talons free, as well as a hat that is hanging to the back as often as it is on her head. A long blue feather is tucked into the woven band. Finally, she wears a cloak, likewise fashioned from white leather but with a satin interior that matches her eyes. It gleams when the light catches it right. Belted to her hip she has a rapier, a couple of pouches, and a tiny bag on a thong around her long neck.

Cryosanthia Age 101
For those who have known her, Cryo is older, much older. Gone is the light on her feet, heavy in the fray, whimsical lizard girl. There is no trace of the fading youngling features which betrayed her youth, her lithe build, her playful exagerated expressions. She looks like her mother might, bigger overall with larger horns, more scale plates, a stronger keratin crest and fearsome talons. Even her gory tattoos have vanished. The Cryo you knew is gone. In a seeming instant.

For those who meet her afresh, Cryosanthia is an elegant sith-makar woman in the first year of her second century. She radiates confidence, a deep power from within. Her scales are a brilliant white, highlighted by ones which are the palest of glacial blues. These pale scales trace out the scars she used to bear, her hide is restored. She bears two fantastic patterns of these, one on her chest, the other completely covering her back from crest to tailtip. When the light hits right, one sees the dragon within. Her bearing is intense, her motions minimal grace. Two horns sweep back from her brow. Her eyes are like glittering saphhire gems, and when she blinks her eyelids have the glacial blue to them as well. She wears a white layered robe, cut for her species, with shimmering blue piping, highlights and whorls. She carries no weapons, and still keeps a tiny bag close to her heart.

For those who know the story, Cryo has been changed, physically and fundamentally by her experiences. She is a lifetime older, but a human lifetime. Still young for a sith-makar, she has centuries to go. Cryosanthia grew into herself under the fae Queen and is the only one to return with memories. These are, sadly, disrupted and Cryo struggles to reconnect with herself, her body, and friends she hasn't seen in decades. Alien at times even to the sith-makar, her heritage is written on her scales, along with her spells.

Cryosanthia, Speaker of the Sith-Makar.