In which there is curry

Zapolklnex nods. "Well, whether you believe the council lies or not," he starts, seated with a mug, speaking to the much larger Kaj, "we diverged from the rest long ago. We live separately, we have a separate culture. Our names won't sound the same as theirs. It's a wonder we even speak the same language at this point."

Kaj nods and falls silent, "Much to consider, Zapolklnex, but I will not be surprised if your parent--or whomever does the naming in your culture--was not a fan of the Sith-Makar...perhaps there is a Sith-Makar near by we can ask for an opinion?"

As if summoned by the conversation, which he certainly was not, Zeke enters the bar and peers around briefly, his tail twitching slightly behind him. He makes his way through the people with great care to keep the staff in his right hand and his tail to himself while also keeping his cloak firmly tucked about his body. The cloak does well to hide Zeke's left arm, but less to hide his left leg the toe of which peeks out when he takes each step. It glitters darkly in the dim lighting seeming to be made of some kind of crystalline structure. At last he arrives at the bar, leaving as much space between himself and the others there as he can. "Thissss one would like ssssome curry, if you pleasssse."

Zapolklnex looks up at Kaj. "Well, I'm not sure the opinion of a Sith will explain the nuances of Mul'niessa culture and language, but fair enough. Where I am from there is nothing unusual or distinctive about my name. Only my refusal to obey the Shadow Council."

If Zeke had ears to twitch they might have at the sound of the conversation that he overhears. Green eyes flicker over toward the pair that are seated not terribly far away from where he is standing and he settles his scales about himself like a bird ruffling feathers. It's a uncomfortable movement. He is a large figure, even for a sith-makar, but he does well to keep his presence unobtrusive, and he tries to make it more so now, green eyes firmly on the person accepting his order.

Zapolklnex was just speaking with an extremely large person, but he's still noticing the also-quite-large Zeke after a moment. Looking over, he takes a long drink from his mug, considering. Looking for signs of whether Zeke was listening, and giving a nod.

Green eyes flicker back over to the pair and yes, that too gives away the fact that Zeke has unintentionally listened in on the conversation. His tail flicks uncomfortably behind him and he grasps his staff perhaps more firmly than he aught to for the health of the wood. For anyone that knows even the least bit about sith-makar he veritably screams a combination of guilt, and discomfort. He knows he's been noticed because he can /feel/ the mulniessa's eyes on him and finally he breaks down, ducking his head and looking at the floor as he turns toward the pair. "Thisssss one apologizessss. Thisss one did not mean to over-hear."

Zapolklnex shrugs and takes another drink. "You heard words spoken publicly, in a public place. Come. Sit. Say what was on your mind."

The blue-scaled sith eyes the seat offered but doesn't move to take it. Instead he stays where he is and looks perhaps even more uncomfortable now than he had before. "Thissss one did not mean to interrupt your conversssation. It would be... rude." He glances away toward the barkeep as if hoping that the food he had just ordered was already on its way, but of course it isn't.

Zapolklnex shrugs and gestures to where the departed Kaj was. "Kaj, as he called himself, had to leave. You have interrupted nothing. He suggested my name, Zapolklnex, sounds like one of yours. I suggested it was coincidence, but was he correct?"

It's a question that Zeke doesn't expect and he takes a moment to consider it. "Thisss one would agree that it issss a coincidence. Ssssuch thingsss can sssound sssimilar to thossse that do not ssspeak the languagesss they come from. Namessss in draconic are not the ssssame asss thossss in ssssildanari however."

Zapolklnex nods. "It is true, but the names we use underground are not the same kinds of names that are used above ground by the others. We have diverged in appearance, in culture, and apparently in names as well. That said, I must find a place to sleep, as I have just arrived from Veyshan." He then rises, and heads out.

The door opens to admit a little snow, and a short Sith-makar. Their scales are a warm copper hue, which contrasts with the dull grey armor and cloak the Sith wears. They pause just after shutting the door, peering out from their helm. After a slow glance around, their posture changes, becoming a bit taller and in a more forward leaning position. Their hand drops to their belt, within easy reach of the blade sheathed there.

Zeke watches the mulniessa leave with clear relief, and watches them pass by the sith-makar that is just coming inside. Zeke of course instantly recognizes the other sith in spite of their armor. Relief turning to pleasure Zeke lifts his hand to Geir, and motions the other sith to join him. "Geir. Peasssce on your nesssst." His words are warm and welcoming.

The Vardaman visibly relaxes upon hearing a familiar voice and catching sight of a familiar face. The copper-scale strides over to Zeke's spot, removing his helm as he settles onto a chair. The helm is set upon one of the empty chairs nearby. "Zeke! Peace on your nesst. How have you fared so far this Winter?" Geir's expression is warm and pleasing, in contrast to the weather and rough crowd.

"Thissss one hass faired well enough. Thisss one hass been very busssy though." Zeke sighs regretfully, and pulls out a chair, turning it so that it could be sat upon. He moves with great care, settling his cloak about himself once he is seated to better hide what he does not want seen. "How have you faired?"

"One hass shouldered the burden without complaint. Though the thought of rough living hass... much lesss appeal. The sstink of the city is preferrable to the cold. Ssnow iss an interessting conundrum." Geir rumbles in his throat, and raises a hand to rub at his brow ridges. "One hass disscovered that one musst eat more lesst one losess weight."

"Have you no plasce to sstay?" Zeke leans forward slightly in concern. "Thisss one hasss been living at the Ssssoldier'ss Defenssse, and thisss one isss scertain that they would welcome you if you were to volenteer sssome of your time there. Or you could sssimply ssstay in my quartersss." He ducks his head somewhat and leans his staff against the table. "Thissss one hardly sssseemsss to ussse them that isss."

Geir's expression brightens further, and he holds up a clawed finger to summon one of the servers. "Two hot apple sciderss, pleasse." The woman nods and heads off, while the Coper-scale focuses their attention back to Zeke. "I can afford lodgingss here in the city, but I have been sstaying at the Temple. But one could enjoy more of your company if one stayed with you at the Defense."

"Thisss one could do with the company asss well. Between errandsss for the hunter-cassste staying at the Defenssse, and tending the ill it sseemsss ass if all thisss one sseeesss isss the ssick." Zeke lifts his head somewhat. "Not that thisss one isss complaining, but it would be good to have you clossse."

The Copper-scale seems to shrink slightly, ducking their head down a little like Zeke had done moments earlier. "One would tolerate one'ss company? Even in such closse proxsimity?" There's a slightly movement behind Geir as his tail practically thrashes at the air as it sways from side to side. The serving woman returns then, placing two mugs on their table. They give off the slightest puffs of steam, and the coppery one wraps a hand around the mug closest to him. "Mmmmm.", he rumbles.

Zeke's tail gives a gentle sway that's not at all like his usual twitching, something that more indicates pleasure than the discomfort that he's usually in with social situations. He accepts his cup of hot cider and uses it as an opportunity to look down rather than at Geir. It seems that they are both avoiding actually /looking/ at one another. Yet, Zeke's eyes do peer up now and again, flickering to catch the sight of Geir's tail and his ducked head. "If you would tolerate thisss onesss, thisss one would be more than pleasssed to have you."

Geir looks up, catching Zeke glancing over, and he nods slowly. "Jusst sso, it iss decided." The Copper-scale pauses to take a long sip of the hot cider. "Mmhmmm. One doess appreciate the ssoftskins penchant for making all manner of drink. But. One would bunk at your quarterss."

The blue-scaled sith's tail ceases to move for a moment in surprise, then sways once and curls around the chair that he is sitting in. "Thissss one appreciatesss the penchant asss well..." His words somewhat trail off and he seems somewhat at a loss for what to say. "When we have finisshed our drinksss, thisss one will sssshow you to the quartersss, ssso that you know where they are; if you have the time for sssuch."

A rumble turns into a hearty chuckle. "One hass time, it sseems, perhapss more time than yoursself." Another long sip of the cider is had, and he sets it aside for the moment. "One recallss you being... bolder. In your youth."

Zeke blinks and looks up. "Bolder? Thisss one thinksss you remember wrongly, thisss one hasss become... far more bold in recent daysss." He peers at Geir. "What are you remembering of thisss one that makessss you think of boldnesssss?"

The Copper-scale chuckles once more. "One meanss when it comess to otherss in your life. You were not..." Geir pauses and seems to contemplate something. "Sshy."

Zeke goes still and stares at Geir. "Thisss one... did not think you would have noticed sssuch a thing. Thisss one hassss not had many otherssss." It was complicated and difficult. Things which Geir already knew and understood.

Geir snorts, his facial expression full of mirth. He pauses though, exhaling slowly, forcing the laughter to subside.

"Children, such as one wass, are information ssponges. One ssaw. One noticed. One... did not approach you, to avoid... your leaving." The Copper-scale runs a finger along the scaled ridge that bisects his facial features. "One did not mean to put you on the sspot, jusst now. But ninety ssome odd yearss ago, you would have assked one with the expectation of one's acceptance, not the fear of one'ss refusal."

Zeke glances downwards, to his cup of hot cider and considers his words before speaking. "One would not have been you, Geir."

The Copper-scale nods. "One meanss you would have assked with confidence, if you had assked. Hmm." He distracts himself momentarily with another sip of cider. "How are your dutiess at the Defensse coming along?"

There's a moment of silence for the conversation that they are leaving behind before Zeke responds to Geir's question, and he considers it before he finally rolls his right shoulder in a half-shrug. "The ssssame ass it hasss been unfortunately. Little hass changed with the plague, and with the work that goess on at the Defensssce. Ssstill, thisss one findsss that... thissss isss more thisss onesss calling than one espected. They have put me in charge of the other priesssts, though thissss one sstill ansswersss to a few."

"One hearss that the quesst to end thiss sicknesss continuess.", Geir says softly, eyeing Zeke curiously. "One iss willing to assissst. Though, iss it not dangerouss to use magic around plague victimss?"

"It isss indeed. There are other thingss that one can do however, to eassse the ssymptomsss. A medicinial application made by Mikilosss which sssslowss the advanacement of the sssicknesss. Tending to the sssymptomsss themselvesss and keeping the patient far from magic." Zeke nods to himself mostly checking the list off in his head.

"One wisshes to be useful, sso it is good that there are sstill wayss to ssooth the ssick.", Geir says with a nod. He reaches to take up the mug once more, and he drains down the remaining cider in one go. Setting the mug aside, he looks pleased. "Have you had wordss with Chay, lately?"

"This one hasss not. Isss he well?" Zeke asks the question with curious interest, finishing the last of his own drink and sighing happily when his curry is finally brought to him.

It's subtle, but the coppery-one sniffs lightly when the curry arrives. "One is reminded one should eat.", Geir says with a chuckle, managing to stop the server in time to place an order for his own large portion of curry. "One hass not, one hass not crosssed pathss with Chay in ssome time."

Zeke's eye ridges lower somewhat and he seems disturbed by the thought that neither of them have seen Chay of late. "He isss likely busssy asss well, but it would be good to sssseek him out and ssee that it iss ssso." His tail gives a short swish and a light of wry amusement flickers into his green eyes. "If only we had the time to do ssso."

"One will keep an eye out for him.", Geir offers. "And one will passs on your dessire to exchange wordss. One will point him toward the Ssoldier'ss Defensse." The Copper-scale settles back in the seat a bit more comfortably. "One hass misssed your company."

"Thissss one hasss misssed yourss asss well." Zeke meets Geir's gaze briefly, and the exchange last longer than it usually does for Zeke in any case. He rubbs his claws over the table-top. "Though it sssseemsss perhapsss thisss onesss sssocial ssskillss are declining asss the yearsss passs asss well." He rumbles with light amusement and shakes his head. "Thisss one hardly knowsss what to talk of other than work."

Geir's expression grows thoughtful, and he nods slowly. "One will help sslowly pull you from your sshell.", he says softly, quietly enough for only Zeke to hear over the din of the Pub. "Perhapss you could sshow one your quarterss? A new topic to focuss on could help, yess?" Then the coppery-Sith's curry arrives. "Oh. After our meal, then?", he says with a gesture Zeke's curry.

Zeke's tail gives a swish. "Perhaps, we can eat there inssstead? Thisss one hass an appreciation for privacy." Again, a fact which Geir could easily guess. Zeke rises from his seat and picks up his curry murmuring to the waitress his solemn promise to bring the bowl back. It's not as though this is terribly unusual. The bowls are simple affairs in any case lest a fight break out or one of the patrons steals one.

The Copper-scale pulls free several silvery coins from a small pouch on his belt, offering them to the serving woman. Who seems a least a little mollified as two of the Pub's bowls are about to go missing. For a time, at least. "One agreess that it iss a good idea.", Geir says with an amused expression. "Lead on."

Zeke does indeed lead on, taking Geir out of the warmth of the tavern and into the much colder streets of Alexandria. They had much to discuss, and it would come easier Zeke knew, when they were alone.

-End