Are we still friends?
Log Info
- Title: Are we still friends?
- Emitter: Zeke
- Characters: Cryosanthia, Seldan, Zeke, Faranmidahn
- Place: A10: Temple of Daeus
- Time: Wednesday, April 01, 2020, 1:35 PM
- Summary: Cryosanthia is resting, but still seems not quite herself. This has taken a toll on Zeke, who even with light duties is unable to rest because of the thoughts on his mind. Seldan arrives, and Cryosanthia asks him three things. First, that he come to her sometime smelling of battle, in the hopes it will remind her of something in the Shard tower, secondly, if they are still friends, and for permission to speak to his sword. Seldan agrees, affirms his friendship with Cryosanthia, and then she tells the ancestors in the blade that she forgives them ahead of time, should they be used against her. That it's the nature of weapons to be used. Zeke objects strongly to Cryo's words, and the ancestors mostly chide Seldan about his love life, which opens the topic up to Cryosanthia. She deeply enjoys teasing the paladin, and promises to help him with continuing his line, although her suggestions are more appropriate for the Crimson pen. Faranmidahn arrives, and they all discuss the possibility Cryo remembers cleaning the tower enough to describe its layout. Seldan departs, still giving the white sith some strange glances, and once he is gone she breaks down. She explains to her mate and her friend, the lucht who has seen so much of her trauma, up close, how she's barely able to control her emotions and is still distraught over attacking Menel. Under questioning, Zeke raises the possibility that Cryo came to see him as her own, a foundling nestling she adopted, so desperate she was for company and contact. Cryo agrees this might be true. Zeke offers to heal her, and she accepts, saying she's willing as long as Zeke won't be injured, but her mate carefully walked around the question. The blue-scale casts Acquire Affliction, and whatever was on Cryo's mind passes to him. Cryo now fully appreciates why everyone was treating her, as she sees her strange affectations in her mate. It worries her. Despite her and Faran's best efforts, they are unable to determine what spell effects are going on, and more experienced casters seem obvlious to anything being amiss. Zeke departs, does not return, and Cryo remembers a plan she was developing while under the influence. Zeke may be attempting to take Menel's life now. The two depart to intervene.
-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=<* 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.
-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- Appearing, in Order -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= Cryosanthia 6'9" 267 Lb Sith-Makar Female A dashingly tall, elegant white-scaled lizard woman. Zeke 6'8" 239 Lb Sith-Makar Male A blue-scaled sith-makar in shadowy robes Seldan 5'11" 187 Lb Human Male Red-blonde Eldanar man wearing Eluna's colors and symbol. Faranmidahn 3'3" 35 Lb Halfling Female Albino Lucht woman in black leather armor with a BIG spider -=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=
The room is quiet. If one listens carefully it's possible to hear the temple activities occuring beyond it. The sounds of worship, the movements of the clergy. It has a rhythm.
Cryosanthia is listening to the Temple's rhythm. She lies on her bed, staring up at the ceiling, her breathing regular and her eyes open. They have their typical lack of expression, glittery and cold. It's a very symetrical pose, the sort of 'death's repose' of the carvings on coffin lids. She waits as time passes.
The door to the room opens quietly, the lack of conversation with the guard on the other side gives away who it is before the door actually opens revealing the familiar form of the blue-scaled sith who has been caring for Cryosanthia. He takes in her - for a sith - uncomfortable posture with an ever-worried expression and then fiddles with the kettle; prepairing tea. With this little task done he moves further into the room. "Peassce on your nessst. Did you ressst well?"
Cryosanthia mouths something wordlessly at the ceiling, then sits up and turns on the bed, so her legs are over the side and her tail across it. She looks at Zeke eagerly and her tail thumps a little, just once. She is pleased to see him, even if all her expressions are on their lowest setting. "This one did."
She looks at her cihuaa more closesly, and shrinks a little in her posture. "You still look worried. This is my fault. Are you getting enough rest?"
Zeke observes her carefully, as a healer might a paitent exhibiting odd behaviors, but with more care in his expression than most doctors would show toward their patients. His tail gives a little wag behind him, betraying his own pleasure at seeing her upright, but it's a muted movement with worry to cloud it. "You ssshow many sssignsss that you were far from the People for very long. Thisss worriessss thisss one." He glances down, a soft waft of embarassment coming off of him. "Thisss one did not resst well. Too many thoughtsss."
Booted footsteps sound down the hallway, a sound that is doubtless familiar to both of them, and one not accompanied by the sounds of armor. The footsteps stop outside the door, and there's a sharp rap on the door. Scenting for identity, if sound is not enough, says that the figure outside is Seldan.
Very few scent cues are coming off the white-scaled sith-makar, and her body language seems quite alien at times, proving Zeke's observations. He would have noticed she wipes herself down with her Cheat gloves several times a day, what seems to be an unconscious habit. It's very automatic, and for any sith, makes her seem wrong. While a personal scent and strong emotions aren't expected at all times, there's always a hint of something. Cryosanthia rarely smells of anything, making her seem like a statue that moves. Something there, but not _there_.
"I expect that's so. I'm not sure what to do about it. Some things seem more comfortable than they should be. Some things I have to think to do, and it feels like... lying." Cryo says. She looks at the door, hearing the arrival beyond, sits up a little more. Watches for it to open, expectantly, like watching for prey.
Obviously, she does smell of things when interacting with her mate or her friends, but when she's left on her own it mostly goes away.
"Sssaa." Zeke offers peaceably to Cryosanthia, watching her prey-ready posture with concern. He stands up from his stool and moves toward the door, shielding it with his body as he opens it; scenting the air as he does so and relaxing. "Ssseldan. Peassce on your nessst."
The blue-scaled sith moves aside to grant the other entry, then closes the door behind him. Rather than returning to his seat Zeke returns to the tea pot which is just beginning to boil. It'll be a few more moments, but he stands ready by it. "Thissss one knowsss you had quessstionsss for Cryossanthia, ssso sssent you a messsage when thiss one knew ssshe would wake."
"Peace on your nest as well." Seldan does not precisely smile, but he does incline his head, seemingly at least mostly relaxed. "You have my thanks for that, although I would not press her unduly." He enters and closes the door behind him, quietly. "Did you both rest well?" He seems to have done so, for he is once again composed and fully present. He is simply dressed, with no armor and only robe and holy symbol over shirt and trousers, but a sith familiar with human scent may catch recent heavy work in his scent.
Cryosanthia wriggles forward, so she's perched on the edge of the bed. This keeps her far from the door. She watches Zeke, her body language whispering , I'm glad you're here. I'm hunting, my love. I have a thing I must do. An eagerness, anticipation.
"I did," Cryo says, looking over at the blue-scale, "Zeke, did not. For... obvious reasons. I had three things I wished to ask, Seldan."
Her nostrils flare, she perks up where she's sitting, "Oh! You guessed one of them. Nice."
Zeke stands by the tea pot and watches the pair carefully. Mostly Cryosanthia. "Thisss one hasss too much on the mind for even the need of ressst to offer ressspite." He shakes his head but waves off the thought. "Thisss one hopesss that you found the night ssso however. Thisss one thinksss... that we mussst do what we mussst do here. Even if that meansss pressing."
"You may find peace in the Dragonfather, where the night does not offer surcease," Seldan suggests, gently, watching Zeke for a response. Only then does he turn to Cryosanthia, studying her instead, taking in the emptiness in her bearing, even without being able to read sith-makar emotional cues. "What would you of me, Cryosanthia?"
"I wanted you to work out really hard, get quite male human stinky, so I could sniff and see if I remembered something. You'd have to be close, so I could dive right in." Cryo says brightly, holding up her hand in a 'stop' gesture. "But stay there for now. I thought..."
She exhales, inhales strongly. She is trying to scent him across the room, or perhaps Zeke, or the tea, but she remains on the bed. "I thought since home is out of time, I left after Menel escaped but was there before he was grown, that perhaps... I'm still there. We're both still there. A version of me, a younger me. That I might remember encountering you in it, if you were battle scented. Although I'm far more likely to remember... a few days ago. But if a younger me is there... that would mean the assault failed. Unless I could be pulled out, which seems paradoxical... It was a thought."
She pulls her head back, at attention, intent and scentless. "I wanted to ask: Are we still friends? I fear I've broken it."
Zeke bows his head to Seldan, acknowledging his wisdom. There was peace in that which sleep knew not. Then he turns to pour the tea, a calming, warm-tasting brew which he hopes will settle all here. A touch of something in Cryosanthia's to help with memory. He is no alchemist, but he has a doctor's way with herbs. With this done he offers first Seldan some tea, then moves deeper into the room to settle a second cup on the stand at Cryosanthia's side. The blue-scaled sith doesn't sit, but he watches Cryosanthia as she speaks and his eye ridges lower in concentration.
Seldan takes his tea, but at the first request, he flushes sharply, as if embarrassed at first. He grows thoughtful, though, as the explanation continues, and takes a stool perhaps an armspan from the bed, perhaps a bit less, and seats himself. "You would have me simulate as I am upon a battlefield, that perhaps a battlefield might trigger your memory?" The question is asked slowly, consideringly. "It may be that I can do so, though it will take more than heavy work to achieve such. I know of servants of the Nightmare active near Alexandros, and it may well be that I will find myself crossing swords with them, that I might set a restless soul free." His allusion to problems that aren't the Fae Queen may be new to either or both of them, but he takes a sip of his tea as if unaware. "I shall be working in the coming days, I assure you, and what you ask may well be possible. But, I would have others with me when I do so, if that is acceptable."
"As to the last, you have not broken anything. I still regard you as a friend, even were it not so that to end a friendship over the interference of evil in a mind would serve Her purposes. Fear me not."
Cryosanthia takes her tea, setting the saucer on her lap, and takes a long sip of it. She sighs happily, the flavour and warmth are nice. She holds the cup delicately, then sets it down. There is very little extraneous motion to her, her tailtip wiggles slightly from side to side on the bed behind her when he approaches and sits closer. One wiggle. She keeps facing him, focused, reading his body cues as he responds. She smells pleased, a faint hint, "Thanks. For the friendship."
She blinks, nodding, "The Nightmare servant battle sounds like it could serve. To trigger, yes. The other scents shouldn't interfere, I hope. It's a bit of a long shot to start with. Good luck in that quest."
Cryo takes another sip of her tea, draining the cup, then setting it and the saucer on the bed beside her. Both hands are placed in her lap. "Last question, then you may ask yours. Might I address your sword?"
With their questions ensuing Zeke lapses into silence, but it is the silence of listening with great care. He watches them, their mouths moving, their bodylanguage. He scents the air for their scents to tell him more about what they are feeling as they speak to one another. The sith finally sits down, moving slowly but eventually sitting close to Cryosanthia. Closer perhaps to her than he does sit to anyone else. Close enough that they might touch.
Seldan's body language presents much as it did the previous evening, although humans do not have the scent cues that the sith-makar do. More settled, perhaps, and reminiscent of encountering him after Eluna's evensong. Cautious, but not closed, not that impassivity that he often displays when upset or displeased. Puzzlement, perhaps, at Cryosanthia's convoluted explanation, in the way he sips his tea, the way that suggests one giving themselves time to think.
When she asks to speak to the sword, though, he blinks, then nods and sets the teacup on the floor next to him. "I still have yet to name the blade, but one has not yet come to me. Sunguard, prepare your ears. I will not harm her, upon my immortal soul and upon the blade of my fathers." With that, he draws the sword at his left hip and holds it horizontally across his left palm, resting both on his knees so that she may see the blade clearly.
It is more than she has seen previously, rippling with gold/silver/white deep within the metal as he touches it. The simple design is augmented with clear and blue gemstones set into the hilt.
"Fallia, Kanian. Tisa, Golain. I am in need of your wisdom," he calls, quietly, and the response is immediate, but unlike usual, the irascible old man is not the first to speak. Instead, it is the nasal older woman. "What ..." She pauses. "Seldan, explain."
Cryosanthia sees Zeke move closer, and she reaches out, halting her hand so he can take it on his own, understanding of his fear of contact. Her body cues when she looks at him are warm, I'm glad you're here, I feel safe seeing you, I am happy. Those fade when she watches Seldan, turning more tense. She's stressed, she's hunting, she's hopeful and she's sad, I am approaching a swamp. I don't know the dangers and it is a difficult path.
And so into battle. Her posture straightens, more formal and more reserved. Her scent cues vanish. Cryosanthia leans towards the sword on Seldan's lap. "Fallia, Tisa, Gollain, Kanian, others who stay silent, I fear my fantasy where Seldan joins you and centuries from now I can still talk to him, will not come to pass. I'm not sure if the situation has been fully explained to you, but I know you overhear some. You can seen how I've changed. I've seen Seldan draw in readiness. Events may be such that he will have to take extreme measures to stop me and you will taste my blood. To the extent that you can feel emotions in that hard element, please don't. I understand that you are a weapon, and will be weilded by those who must do what needs be done. I forgive you. I'm sorry. It will be my fault, not Seldan's."
Her hand, waiting for Zeke's starts trembling, her other one clenches against itself, her pupils get a little wider and she breathes very carefully."
There is a nod to Seldan as the weapon is bared. The revealed blade sings a soft song into the air, a whisper of breath and then it speaks. It is not Seldan who answers though, and while Zeke was reassured by the man's promise that he would not harm Cryosanthia, /her/ words drive a wedge into Zeke. He grasps her hand with his crystal claw, and holds it tightly, pulls her back from the blade and gives it a short look as though it might itself leap forward to do her harm without Seldan's asscent. "Ssssa!" A harsh breath of denial. "Think not sssuch thingsss! Ssseldan will not harm you, he hasss promisssed sssuch and he isss a man of hisss word. Thisss one will keep you ssafe. This one will!"
Zeke is leaning forward, his tail straight out behind him, an explanation mark of intensity. He moves his other hand, his real claw toward Seldan, motioning for the man to put his blade away. It seems he has more to say but the words defy him. Leave him with his jaw open, teeth clasped on nothing.
For once, there is utter silence from the blade, but Seldan's expression suggests that there is silent communication, at least at some level. "We have no interest in harming you, Cryosanthia, unless you have become a demon in the last week, but ... it has been our hope that Seldan would pass us down to his descendants."
"If he has any." There's the irascible old man's voice. "If he keeps noodling around with that wizard boy, we might all be disappointed. When are you going to find yourself a girl and make babies?"
A gruff, middle-aged man's voice with a distinct khazadi sound to it chimes in. "I'm afraid I have to agree with Kanian here. You have to find yourself a wife." An indistinct chorus of agreement rises from that statement, and Seldan flushes deeply, setting the naked blade gently on the floor and not touching it before burying his face in his hand. The skin the pair can see is turning quite pink.
"Why, Kanian?" inserts the deeper, younger female voice. "It isn't as if you made any to be proud of. Besides, we're getting off track here." Amid the resultant argument, Tisa speaks up. "Cryosanthia, so long as you don't start willingly targeting innocent people, he won't hurt you. Eluna forbids it, and he wouldn't think to do so anyway. There are ways to stop you without killing you."
Cryo is tugged away by Zeke. She grips his hand tightly as well, Her eyes return to normal, her body and scent cues deferring to the blue-scale. She smells ready and grateful that he is protecting her, with a hint of confusion. She hisses, she is here, "Sssssssaaa." He is calming her, even though she is agitated.
Her confused scent grows, and grows, the more the sword speaks. Suddenly it all makes sense! Crimson Pen to the rescue. Her surprise scents are genuine and her eyes glitter, then she smells quite amused and eager. "Like Mikilos and Kol? You like booooooys? Oh ho, oh, Oh! And that explains the comment about my clothes! It's Malik? Of course, it has to be Malik! Weeeelllll, there's hope! One of you could turn female for the task, Nels the goblin managed it. Or... OOoooooooo, a love triangle! Yes. So many possibilities. I'll help you wooo, I've already offered to be Cryano de Perenath for Mikilos!"
Cryo's tail is waggling and she's bouncing on the spot, it's slightly girlish for how she is, but still a welcome sign of life. She's so distracted by the possibilites she almost forgets the other replies. "Thank you Tisa. I don't want to, but I worry now my plan failed. That I brought back nothing useful but a head full of Her nonsense and spent decades washing walls. I don't know what's going to happen."
Someone outside, one of the guards in all likelihood, finds something worth saying to someone... Another shorter, even abrupt, statement is made after a pause. There is a murmur of something soft and light, when the guard repeats his previous statement more firmly. While still soft, whatever voice replies is less light, and so it begins again...
There is a moment of sheer confusion from Zeke, who is after all... sith-makar. He does not understand the reason why Seldan is slowly turning pink. Black yes, but pink? He peers down at the man, listening to the conversation and then suddennly and without warning smells strongly of embarassment. Gently he releases Cryosanthia's hand, letting out a soft rumble. "Isss it a ssstrange thing among sssoft-ssskinsss to be attracted to other malesss?" He looks at Cryosanthia in curiosity. This /must/ be a soft-skin thing that he does not understand. He shakes his head and then tilts his head toward the sound coming beyond the door.
Quietly he steps to the entryway. Then, blocking the room with his body he opens the door and looks outside. "Peasssce. How may thisss one help?"
Cryosanthia, also appears to be enjoying the chromatic effects occuring on Seldan's skin. She has a wide, opened mouth grin, and her teeth have gotten a lot sharper over the years it would seem. She makes a jaunty sway from side to side as Zeke goes to the door, calling after him. "It's unusual but not uncommon. Not strange. Infrequent enough to have inspired a whole genre of fiction and plays. Exploring the possibilities."
Cryo gazes at Seldan, clearly considering possibilities, "You go into battle together, don't you? And you're the healer! Have you ever had to cradle him after a bad encounter, healing spells almost spent, 'Don't worry my love! I have you!' Malik was held in his arms, he gazed up at his manly chin! This one will be busy tonight! Zeke, you must get me a notebook!"
By now, Seldan is beyond words. Far more than he had bargained for - or wished for - is now in the open, and every line of the paladin's form. face buried in hands, wishes desperately for a portable hole, that he might crawl into it and pull it in after him. No such hole is forthcoming, however, and the chorus from the sword at his feet has not really abated. Tisa, however, seems to be the voice of practicality in the crowd. "It sounds like something went very badly sideways on you, Cryosanthia ..." She stops as Cryosanthia goes on, and there's a small sigh from the sword. "Seldan, pull yourself together. Who cares what this lot think? It isn't as if you're shaming the family, or as if it hasn't happened before. We have more important things to do than discuss your preferences in bedmates."
Beyond the door, it seems the guard is in the middle of a debate on matters of entrance with a tiny fluffy lucht clad in roughspun, sand colored silk, as well as her typical Traveller's knife, strapped to a thigh, and the longblade hanging from the belt on the other side. She looks rather piqued, but the guard turns as the door opens, "Oh, ah, this child wishes to see you." To be fair, it's a young guard.
The c-word obviously gets her hackles up, "I'm older than you are! Pillock!" A shake of her head and Faran tries to smile again, "Hello, Zeke, how are you.... today?" tailing off in some bewilderment as she leans to one side to see what's going on -behind- Zeke at Cryo's words. All of her own just... fell out of her head. Watch your step.
"Thisss one isss well enough Faranmidahn." Zeke knows her well enough as Cryosanthia's friend and from their previous interactions and so he opens the door for her, stepping backwards and taking in the sight of Seldan... Seldan looks like he is trying to disappear and that is something which Zeke is intimately aware of. He closes the door behind Faranmidahn and forgets to offer her tea because tending to the other man is more important than niceities. So he coughs. Draws attention to himself as he never does. "Thisss one thinksss that there isss enough of that dissscusssion. Yessss?" He remembers the tea abruptly and also Faranmidahn. "Look Cryossanthia, sssomeone iss here to ssee you. Would you like sssome tea Faranmidahn?"
GAME: Seldan rolls will: (15)+22: 37
"Yes, Zeke, yes. All right. This one shall refrain, for now." The white-scale sith says, still sounding very amused and a little ominious in her use of 'for now'. Her opened mouth grin is directed at Seldan, and slowly she brings back her composure.
"Faran! Come here!" Cryosanthia beckons to the lucht with happy delight, whipping her tail up to bounce herself onto the bed. The bed is not down with this, she is a powerful sith, so it makes its own ominous noises. "Sit on my lap, or beside? This one would hug you. I don't want to disrespect you but it would be a comfort"
"Tisa, I've spent a long time in the service of the fae queen that wishes to destroy Alexandria. I hoped I might outsmart her, that she would think a sith so beneath her as to be incapable of that, but I have very little memory of my time there. The one who does recall and was with me there also, I tried to kill on sight. I can't explain why. So she may have won and I wasted my years being a lizard maid."
Seldan's face remains buried, but his hands at least drop when Tisa speaks. The voices by now have started to subside, with Seldan's silence, and he finally looks up and straightens when Zeke speaks. "Of course, Sunguard. I would ask your forgiveness for interrupting the task at hand." He's still quite an interesting color, but he picks up the blade at his feet and sheathes it swiftly and decisively, the rasp and thunk of leather and metal. "Faranmidahn, it is a pleasure to see you again," he greets the lucht, pulling what shreds of his dignity he has left almost visibly around him.
Faranmidahn follows Zeke inside, working her headparts into organizing what the the door opened to into a format she can assign relative context to, distracted enough that she doesnt' seem to be aware that the guard is even there, anymore. Pillock. Kind of aware. As the door closes she bows deeply to the gathered, "Ahhh.... hello...?" It's a start. Maybe?
Ahem... Faran smiles to Zeke with a, "That would be wonderful, thank you, Zeke." To Seldan she bows once more with a, "And you, Sir Seldan." with a little smile, though there's something in her eyes, something uncertain. Not the look of judgement, as the look of the judged. At last, she turns to Cryo and gives a bigger smile, not wanting to impair her recovery any more than she already has with her own personal foibles, and with a fond, "Of course, Cryo!" she manages to get... most of the way across the room before this new revelation fully enters her ears, but, as it does she ducks down into her hair, trying to regain her composure, intent on giving her timescarred friend only light. She had thought there was more to it... but again her own magics failed her, unless it was some other form of influence? Even as she shuffles that failure with the others, with the betrayal, she reaches up to her friend.
Zeke calmly pours tea for Faranmidahn, holding the cup in hand as she moves toward Cryosanthia. He can not help the way his tail grow still, his eyes watchful. There is concern there, that Cryosanthia will... but it's unthinkable really. There has to be hope. So he sways his tail at Seldan and nods to the man. "There issss nothing to forgive." There is something in Zeke's bearing that says he understands more than he is saying. Something that he keeps to himself for now. He moves further into the room, reminds Seldan with a motion about his own tea and settles himself near to where he had been sitting before though he doesn't take a seat.
As the lucht approaches, Cryo automatically raises her hands and they move through an elegant, well practiced gesture. It's before Faran is close to her. The symbols, her Cryo-dragoneye, on the backs of the gloves glow softly indicating a spell activated. The sith-makar stares at her hands for a moment. "Prestidigitation." Faran isn't a fae, but she is female, smaller than the sith, known to her and far enough away she wouldn't be able to smell her with normal senses.
Cryosanthia thinks about this for a moment, while Faran crosses the remaining distance and picks her up when she gets close. She sets her on her lap, wraps her arms around, and leans down to rest her heavy head on Faran's. "You know, if I was cleaning the place over and over I'd probably develop a routine and it might be rote. If I imagined I was there hard enough and started cleaning I might go all the way through it. That probably isn't useful though, right? You know what the inside looks like."
Cryo seems relaxed and non-threatening, even to a non-sith. If one squints the eyes, the cartoonish impression is of a dragon holding a knight plush.
Reminded of his tea, Seldan leans over and picks it up, wrapping a hand around the cup as he drinks. He watches Cryosanthia cuddle the lucht like a teddy bear, but it is her words that catch his attention. "I am given to understand that each iteration may be different. It may be that your knowledge is useful." He pulls himself together, still, with sips of tea, but he seems to be settling back down and refocusing. "I would hear of who else you might remember from the tower."
Faranmidahn accepts her tea as it's offered her, "Thank you, Zeke." she smiles up to him, once she's settled in the Sith's arms, hunting silks soft if somewhat rougher than her arming dress. She cradles the cup in the palm of her hand, relying on her personal abjurations to ward off the discomforting heat, as the other curls to alight on the scales of the arm around her. The musings prompt her observation, "There would be things that you would clean certain ways, or avoid altogether if they were trapped. That could indeed be as Seldan says."
Zeke finally sits down carefully picking up his tea and holding it close to himself. It's gone a bit cold in the intervening time, but that doesn't seem to bother him as he grows quiet again. The thoughtful sith seems to relax somewhat seeing Cryosanthia behaving normally with her friend. It's good. "Thisss one would be curiousss to know if it isss sso. But more curiousss isss what you do remember. People. Plasscess. Sssmellsss. Feelingsss. Mossst important perhapsss isss what you remember of Menel. If he isss a threat to thisss missstresss or if you remember him sssso fondly, then it isss important the relationssship you had with him. We may be able to ussse it to... to sstop you from harming him in the future."
"Oh! I didn't even think of traps. Thanks Faran." Cryo wobbles her head from side to side, rubbing the top of the lucht's. She seems indifferent to any heat on her arm, and looks to Seldan. "That's the thing. I don't. I remember beings, male and female, not faces. Like... the stage hands in a play or people in dreams. Someone there but not important enough to remember. If I visited people who were cured, who have her mark, maaaybe something would spark?"
At the mention of Menel, a lot of her comfort goes away. Nothing replaces it, no worrying scents or body language, she simply acquires the sensation of being an object again. "I saw him, in a vision, while Seldan and I were... struggling. A flash. He called me 'Sasa'..."
Cryosanthia goes from speaking normally to choking on the word. She trembles, and Faran is experiencing an increasingly tighter hug. Cryo's breathing becomes forced. Her eyes pulse, she smells unpleasant, ashamed and sad. "... a knickname, I'd never heard before. He seemed happy to see me both in this vision and in person. Like he was mine, a friend, a comfort. Company. Vulnerable. I don't remember. I don't... I don't..." She leans her head back stares at the ceiling and closes her eyes. She concentrates, on trying to find anything she can hold onto, pull back to her consciousness.
Seldan's tea is also cooling rapidly, but he says nothing of that either, though Zeke's remark leaves him watching Cryosanthia's reaction very, very closely. "I would ask the same question of him, and more. I had thought to seek him out, when he is again permitted visitors." Although the remark is directed at Zeke, it is Cryosanthia that he watches, and it is clear that he does not like what he sees. "I saw that vision, although I know not how it came to be. But ... I cannot stay long, I was sent on an errand and stopped upon my return. If you will forgive me..." He finishes the tea and sets it on the sideboard that Zeke uses, cleaning it with a swift spell. "I would speak of this later, but I have been already overlong. Peace be upon your nests." He swiftly takes himself out of the room, closing the door behind him.
"Or delicate control... things? Like crystal sygils or something?" Faran notes, smiling up at Cryo as she's nuzzled. Then the other traits of the conversation bring her a bit of a pause, "Mister Menel? I met him shortly after I came here..." She waves after Seldan as he leaves, but, she sobers quickly, imagining that's who she attacked, but there is some comfort if only in that her friend 'tried' to kill him. She sighs into her teacup as she tips it to her lips, but almost wheezes as the arms around her suddenly tighten, though she does blink and nearly spills her tea over them both, but she ducks down into her hair again and tries to bear out the pressure. She instead reaches up her tiny hand, fingers curled, and agains tries to scracth along her scales as she had, before.
Zeke rises to bid Seldan farewell, following the man to the door and making sure that it shuts behind him. With that taken care of Zeke picks up the tea pot and brings it over to Cryosanthia and his own tea cups so that they can be refreshed, then set aside for later use. Yet, it's clear that Cryosantha's words startle him from the way that his tail lashes behind him just once. "He called you asss a hatchling might. You sssay you felt protective of him. Perahpsss sso far from the People you adopted him? It isss not unheard of." Unususal to treat the soft-skined races so, but not entirely unheard of. There are some who taken by the slavers at critical points in their lives formed strong bonds with those not sith-makar and even considered them kin.
"Do not pusssh yourssself too hard. But... If he wasss ass a hatchling to you, then thossse are sstrong insstinctsss among the People. Oness that might be able to overcome whatever thoughtsss that were plassced in your mind. There are thingssss which we might do to help you remember." Zeke nods.
The little touch helps, a scratch on the scales, a small human hand... or a regular sized halfling hand. The sith-makar responds, the quiet comforting thrum rising in her throat. Zeke can hear it, Cryo is singing it at a low volume, intended only for her nestlings, but it carries enough. The lucht hears it clearly, feels it, vibrations through her body, and once more she is being carefully held, not crushed.
"I wish he would not look at me so. I'm trying to control my emotions. I can only be so stoic. Menel was, my only comfort. I might have done what you say. I feel like I'm the worst nest-mother ever. That I tried to kill my hatchlings. I'm having... I'm having... a hard time, fitting it all together."
"I would remember Zeke, I want to. I don't want to be this thing no one trusts. This failure!" Her voice crackles again, her pupils widen as she looks at the blue-scale, pleading and she smells of anguish. The little hand keeps scratching on her scales. Be calm for the little one. Protect the little one.
She exhales and her head lies heavy on the Faran, the emotions past again. Her voice normal, with control. "Seldan said I shamed my ancestors too. That hurt more than the punch in the nose."
Faranmidahn keeps her face down, hiding discomfort and shame in her expression at least from Cryo's angle, at least that is the intent. Her hand, compartively feeble, lacking proper claws likely isn't making enough of an impression to carry through the scales, but she keeps trying to soothe her friend, whom now bears her particular sin as well. There's so much...! With the cry of Cryosanthia's being an untrusted failure, a ripple of... something happens and the teacup in the little Luchts hand abruptly shatters, dropping the cooling, if still quite warm, tea into her fetlocks and her anguished face comes up with a breathless, "NO!" and she tries to work her way loose, "..not..!" she pants, "...true..!"
Where he stands uncertainly Zeke's shoulder's drop, and he moves slowly, to bend down and pick up the shattered pieces of tea cup. The blue-scaled sith is very careful with them, his eyes low and his posture the one of someone feeling defeated. When all the pieces are in hand he sets them on the stool that Seldan vacated. "Thisss one. Thiss one can not bear to sssee you ssso. Thisss one... one ssshould never harm onesss own kin. Thisss one can not imagine the pain of being forssced to."
Zeke reaches out, as he never does, with his crystal claw and meets Cryosanthia's eyes. "Thisss one isss willing to take the burden for you. Thisss one may be able to take what ssshe did from your mind and make it go away. If you will trusst thisss one to do ssso."
Cryosanthia takes his hand. She holds it and squeezes it. Faran is held tightly, a one armed hug. "I couldn't stop! I couldn't. I saw it all, smelt, felt, his skin tearing! I've been hot blooded, but this wasn't. It was so cold. So empty, everything in me screaming stop. Unable! Calling. Somebody come! Somebody. Save my baby. Seldan! I was so fast. If he wasnt there..."
She starts to moan again, the sound of a mother in despair. She's shaking, her breath coming in gasps and her eyes so wide and black. She holds tight, to Zeke, to Faran, to her mate and her friend. Fights for self control. Inhales, holding the breath, she gets the lid on her emotions. Her panic subsides, fast, very fast, down to where she's almost expressionless again.
"Please Zeke, I trust you, of course. As long as it won't hurt you. I don't want to hurt you. I would not forgive myself a second time."
Faranmidahn hugs Cryo as tightly as she can, eyes misty as more and more of the sith's agony is laid bare. She looks to Zeek, the crystal limb and she mouths the word, 'No.' Then nods to his other side, mouthing, 'Let her feel youuuu', her eyes pleading, hoping he understands. Not knowing in the least the things in the blue sith's psyche that she does -not-. The gamble made, she brings her now unladen hand up to circle the palescale's neck in her awkward hug, deepbreath, "No... that is Sally's sin, not yours." She doesn't say 'my sin' for the ears of anyone but her inner demons, but they exult, regardless.
A low thrum echoes out of Zeke. He can not, and would not have stopped the sound if he could have. It's meant to calm her. There is peace here the sound says. Faranmidahn mouths soft words to him, and though he understands. Lays his other hand on top of the one clasping his crystal one. His skin /crawls/ with the feeling of touching someone else. Fear lances through him, but he shoves it down into a little ball. She is in pain. He must do as a healer's duty is and heal her pain.
"Thisss one mussst do what one can. Though it caussse thissss one pain or not. Let thisss one." Zeke needs her permission. He could not do anything without it; would not. "Thisss one will find sssomeone to heal what isss done. For now, thisss one would do what can be done."
The weight on her neck, the right size, the right amount. The touch on her hand, the smell of her mate, his sounds. Cryosanthia is soothed, she can let go, the need to fight the pressure of her emotions dissipates. She breathes, she holds them both. She nods.
"I don't know Sally... Faran. I don't understand, but thank you."
She looks at Zeke, and nods. "Please... as long as it's safe, for you. I'd rather be locked away or die, thank harm you."
"I would do.. anything that needs done to help you." the little female says, starting toward Cryo, though the last comes to Zeke, her eyes grateful. While she can be a comfort to her friend (friends, if she ever realizes what she's ignorantly just done to Zeke), she yearns to be able to more proactively assist. She gives a weak chuckle, a rueful smile, "I'll not risk her name, beloved friend." she says softly.
"Sssshe meansss the missstresss of the Sshard tower." Zeke supplies helpfully, his gaze not quite meeting Cryosanthia's now. "There isss ssome rissk to thisss one, but if it comess to that..." He nods to the cabinet beside the bed. "Take thisss onesss money from the drawer there, and call the Dragonfather's sservantss to thisss room. Have them Heal thisss one. That ssshould sssuffisce." Now he looks up. "Let thisss one do thisss."
Cryosanthia nods, to both Zeke and Faranmidahn. She laughs, "Oh, right. Mistress Salina or She. Sally never crossed my mind. Salina would NOT allow it." She chuckles again afterwards, shaking her head.
Disentangling from the lucht, Cryo tries to kneel before her, but she can't get low enough without is seeming absurd, so she puts Faran on the bed. This allows her to look up to her. "On your knight's honour, Faran. Promise me, promise me you'll do whatever it takes to get me down if I start hurting Zeke. I don't know what will happen. I don't know what will do. Please. I need you too, be ready."
She waits, for the lucht knights answer. As she does, she holds up her hands, "this is deliberate, give me a moment." Her hands turn into claws. She stares at them, almost bewitched. Faran has seen them, Cryo knows them all to well, Zeke may not have. She holds them for what seems only a short time, but is so long when the blood is flying.
"There, I should not be able to manifest them again for the rest of the day. Tell me what to do Zeke, be it lie down, sit, stand. I am ready. Faran, be ready."
"Good!" Faran says with something like triumph in her eyes, spiteful, sure, petty, yes, but oh so-so sweet. She starts to look to Zeke on his words and nods, "If you are certain, I... I will." Then, suddenly, she is on the bed looking -down- at Cryo and at the start of her request, the invocation of her knight's honor she flinches as if the sith tried to slap her head off. The is still for a moment, two, threatening to breed more before glitting rose eyes turn back toward her and she partially unsheaths her longsword a few inches for the second time and, with a wince, closes her hand around the blade, "I am... disgraced, but I swear, I will do as you ask." and she holds up the hand, cut across the palm. Blood oath. That made, she moves to hope down to do as Zeke has bidden, taking up the money and moving toward the door, drawing it up and looking up at the guard, "Zeke has called for some skilled priests, I'll forgive you if you run and get some. Swiftly."
Zeke rises carefully to his feet, his hands still holding Cryosanthia's hand. He has her permission and now all that needs done is... He reaches inside himself and speaks in his heart words of devotion to the Dragonfather. They come out of his mouth quiet but firm. "Dragonfather, thisss one assskss that you heal thisss one of the woundsss in her mind." He clutches her claw in his own and spills the spell out between them. It is a complicated spell. One that does not quiete... heal. Instead it causes those who are injured to give their injuries over to the one casting the spell. So, Zeke means to take the affliction of mind away from Cryosanthia...
And place it upon himself.
GAME: Zeke casts Accept Affliction. Caster Level: 11 DC: 15 GAME: Cryosanthia rolls spellcraft: Trained Use Only: 0 GAME: Faranmidahn rolls spellcraft: (13)+7: 20
Cryosanthia sits, watching Zeke, her hand relaxed in his grip. She watches with interest as he prays the devotion, then works the spell. It's complex and intriguing, but if she has any knowledge of spellcraft it is locked away. Her free hand goes through a quick motion, one she doesn't understand. An instinctive counterspell perhaps. The sensation that something isn't right, starts to grow.
"Faran, what are you doing over there? That's only necessary if I attack and..."
Oh no! "Zeke! What does that spell do? What are you doing?" She attempts to pull her hand away.
Faranmidahn's expression, forcibly sedate despite the lingering smarting to her ego in the guard's earlier faux pas erodes in openmouthed horror as she gasps, 'Gods, he couldn't be-!' then THRUSTS the bag into the guards hand, 'NOW! Before it's too late!' she screams desperately, 'He's taking her trauma to himself! MOVE, DAMN YOU!' and she rushes back into the chamber. <unknown>
For once, Zeke doesn't listen. Doesn't obey the female when she tries to take her hand away. He holds tightly to her until the spell is cast and then, only then does his hand fall from hers. For a moment his eyes cloud over something impossible to discern passing through him. His tail straightens, his body tenses. Then he relaxes, relaxes and blinks lanugidly. Slowly. To Cryosanthia he smells... off. Calmer than he should be after touching her. He blinks and then looks at Cryosanthia. "Ssssaa. How do you feel?"
"Zeke? What did you do?" She's staring, her head darting from side to side, sniffing. Something smells wrong. What's wrong with her mate? What's wrong with me? What was wrong with me? Cryo shakes her head, she heard Faran's words. "I feel normal, I feel anxious. I feel the same! I still don't remember anything and... less distraught over ... the events with Menel?"
Cryosanthia takes Zeke's crystal hand, holding it. "Oh Zeke no, I thought you were casting some sort of dispell... You have it now? How do you get rid of it..?"
Cryo starts laughing, not cruel or mean, more a gallows humor or a battlefield futility, "Do you just keep passing it along, A Trauma Hot Potatoe? Oh Scales! Those healers coming don't know what they're in for."
Faranmidahn isn't entirely sure what she -expected- Zeke's spell to end with. Her own awareness of what's happened to her friend is horrifying to the little sorceress, but the worst is she she's sure she only knows snippets, glimpses of only the latest traumas. Also, a being so powerful, so set on her secrets would undoubtedly be able to put traps on her controls. There, honestly, is a not-small part of her mind that though Zeke might explode. The somewhat sedate apparant aftermant is more confusedly troubling than comforting, and so she brings up her right hand, edging out of sight and begins to whisper in her tongue....
Zeke seems... fine. He tilts his head at Cryosanthia. "Thissss one did not think that disspel would work. You were in a plassce that did not allow magic to work, and yet you did what you did. Thisss one will not allow thisss to passs to ssomeone elssse." He shakes his head, moves back from Cryosanthia and looks at her seriously. "Thisss one will not allow another to bear thisss burden. It isss enough that you carried it for a time. Thisss one will be fine."
Cryosanthia now feels like everyone after her return must have. Her friend before her, her Mate! Is influenced, corrupted, damaged in some devious, twisted way by the fae Queen. "It could be anything, it could be part of her plan!"
A very confused, intricate, nonsensical plan. More likely that's Cryo's paranoia. "Are you sure, how can you be sure, anything could happen. Will you be safe around others, will they? Did you forget the last century of your life? Can you remember your spells? What did it do, how will you be fine? How long, I'll stay with you!"
Faranmidahn's eyes take to their pink light, edging warily to try and keep out of direct observation in case Zeke's new burden objects to being peeked at, but requires his awareness of it to act upon. The spell cast, her hand opens toward Cryo in a kind of halting gesture, then slowly drifts downward. She can only pray the meaning is clear, while the other hand extends out the door in a beckoning gesture should the priests be coming as requested, the lucht not daring to look away, though she didn't expect quite the initial results. She wants to reassure Zeke, she wants to reassure Cryo, but until she knows more for sure, she has to make like a hole in the air. As she's recently been assured by Ezil, Luchts have a tendency to become just that. Infuriating, but usefull.
"Peassssce Cryosssanthia." Zeke breathes the words. "Thisss one thought that one would need to be Healed. That the sssickness in your mind would caussse thisss one pain or to lasssh out, but thisss one isss well." There are others, others and Zeke - should - be watching them cautiously. Should be aware of them and moving away, but he does not. He reaches out and touches her on the shoulder. A careless gesture that bespeaks something /wrong/. But he moves toward the other priests to calm them and assure them that he is well and that Faran had summoned them perhaps a bit premtively.
Cryosanthia stares. Zeke fears to touch her, and while the contact is welcome she knows something is wrong. She moves around in front of him, walking backwards, shaking her head, "No, Zeke, I felt the same way. I still feel the same way. There was nothing until it happened, then it was there. They should check you, examine you for... I don't know. It may not have worked right, I might still not be cured and still unsafe, you might be now as well. You should be watched at all times, it could be dangerous if you're alone. Please my cihuaa, let them look at you. This is wiley and dangerous."
Faranmidahn's eyes, still glowing with her divination spell active, hold to both sith and she hrm's softly, not sure what the indications truly mean, but intending to continue her feeble studies. Oh, hey, the priests are here, "Sirs, there is some sort of magic at play upon both. Zeke invoked Accept Affliction, and it seems to have worked, but there are lingering energies between them... We need better eyes than mine on this, please."
Zeke wags his tail at Cryosanthia. "Thisss one will have you Healed. To be sscertain." This to comfort her as he moves to encounter the group of priests. One does not see Zeke often among his fellow priests, but he seems at ease with them, easing their concern and sending many on their way. One approches Cryosanthia at his request, an offer of money passing between them so that she can be healed as promised. Zeke then shuffles more of them out of the room, the priest that heals Cryosanthia is the last to go.
One younger priest lingers by Faranmidahn, looking at her. "What are you doing? You said something about needing help? Priest Zeke and his friend seem fine, but if you need something..." He trails off meaningfully.
Cryosanthia guides Zeke to a bed, moving first and attempting to get him to follow. Pulling a stool for herself, to sit in front of him. A quick worried glance towards Faran, meaningful in the way her nose moves from the lucht, to the priest, to the blue-scaled sith, whom she fixes her eyes one, trying to draw his focus.
"Please, my cihuaa, listen to me. I know a lot of my habits since I returned worried you. I think that's all they were, habits because She liked them, or because I was mirroring her. Not some... geas to hide her in my mind, like a copy of her. But maybe it was. I don't know, whatever it was you'll go about your daily business until it happens. I like these clothes I'm wearing, when I move with power it's because I want to, and I think of what power looks like, and that is Her, it's not something making me. I can stop anytime, but the cell, what happened in the cell, that was me and it wasn't me. I can't explain but if you have it now, it's dangerous."
Cryo is talking more to talk, to keep her mate in position so the other priest can examine him, than to make sense. Her babble is an attempt to make sense, but it's also like trying to see the inside of the eye from the eye.
The lucht doesn't tear her eyes away from the pair, "Yes, your grace I do." she says softly, "I'm still trying to study the magic energies at work here, the spell manifests in my eyes. I fear there may be something guiding Zeke's actions." She swallows, "I summoned the priests at his request, before he began the spell. I had feared a more physical outcome, but this may worse. If not you, then someone well versed must examine him, I haven't been schooled very long... and my eyes are getting tired."
GAME: Faranmidahn casts Detect Magic. Caster Level: 2 DC: 14
With a soft sigh, Zeke allows himself to be moved, to sit on the bed as if he has need of it. He listens to Cryosanthia with a soft swaying to his tail as if her words amuse him somewhat. Really though, he seems to be watching Faranmidahn talk to the priest more than he's listening to Cryosanthia. "Thisss one underssstandsss, but thisss one iss sscertain that you are well. The power of the Dragonfather is greater than that of ssssome fae. Thisss one will grant you that ssshe might be powerful, but the Dragonfather iss more ssso. Yesss?" He wags his tail again, trying to comfort her with his words. Reassure her.
The priest looks at Faranmidahn. "Alright, I'll look him over." Smoothly the young man moves in, standing close to Cryosanthia and then physically looking Zeke over. When the priest finds nothing out of the ordinary he starts to touch Zeke, but the sith moves back and gives him a hard look that makes the priest take his hands back. "Sorry, right, forgot about the touching thing. Um... He looks fine. There's a lingering magical aura on him, but he looks healthy."
"Yes. The lingering magic aura, that's what concerns me." Cryosanthia says, "We've been trying to get an answer on that for days. Please, decades. Faran can't comprehend what we see, I'm even less experienced, every wiser mage or cleric we've asked ends up distracted and it never is done. Look at him please, see what that aura is doing."
She doesn't look away to talk to the priest, she remains focused on her mate, smelling, watching, listening with her body. Of course, all her bodies signals are of concern. "Zeke, my love, I agree the dragon father is more powerful, but the spell moves not destroys. I may be free but it may be on you, with unknown interactions. Please, indulge me, a short observation, how long do magical auras linger? It should not have to last longer than that. I will not be worried, if someone confirms what Faran sees."
GAME: Faranmidahn rolls spellcraft: (4)+7: 11
Faranmidahn looks about ready to cry, "I know there's an aura... just the one, your grace... I... i can't tell what it is, please.... " Perhaps in fatigue, perhaps in defeat, the little sorcersss slumps against the wall and slides down to the floor.
"Magic lingersss for sssome time. Thisss one doesss not mind the obssservation. Ssso long asss thisss one isss not touched." Zeke glances at the priest and gives him another short look for good measure. "Do not be sssso conscerned Cryosssnathia. Thisss one isss well. There isss peassce here."
Yet when Faranmidahn falls against the wall he shakes off Cryosanthia's concern and goes to the little warrior. "Ssssee, we have pusshed her too far. Thisss isss all unnecessary!" He moves in close, trying to discern if there is anything wrong with her.
GAME: Faranmidahn rolls spellcraft: (19)+7: 26
"Examine my mate, he agreed." Cryosanthia tells the young priest, very quietly, but her body movements, the look, are clear, it's a command. One from a worried spouse. She moves past him to crouch beside Faran, "It's Ok, it's Ok." She's speaking more to Zeke than to her friend.
"I'm sorry to push you, and this one apologizes for insulting your honour. I'm not sure what I asked wrong, it was only out of grave concern. Please, forgive me."
As she's approached, with Zeke's shadow shrouding her, she looks up, eyes alight, eyes staring up into the blue sith's face.... as she had the slime that was devouring her and there is a sweat at her brow, holding the spell, but when she recognizes it, she exhales in a gasp and her eyes return to their usual moist shimmer, her hands lifting to gently try and cradle the blue sith's face between her palms as she likely would Cryo were the oppurtunity there, "No.... my mind... I think I sprained it, Zeke. It's... what's left of your Accept affliction... forgive me.. I had to be sure, my friend." She swallows, voice drawn and she looks to Cryosanthia, "It was me, Cryo... I accepted you as my charge, but... when Sally came... I didn't escort you as I promised... an oathbreaker... a betrayer.... could never be a Knight."
Zeke goes very still as he is touched, a quiver of motion sliding along his spine to his tail which falls silent and still behind him. He seems not to breathe, but the usual fear that would be assosiated with such is... not in the air. He pulls back finally from Faranmidahn, nodding to her. "Thisss one will go and find a... more experianssced healer to aid you. You did what you could Faranmidahn. None can asssk more than that." He draws back entirely and flicks his tail at the other priest who follows him out of the room. To observe him it seems as requested.
Cryosanthia stares as her mate leaves, stares at the priest following, the door. Closing. She stares at the closed door. "Things got worse and I don't know how. He would have flinched, or there be a fear scent, there was none. Only we know what happened, I can't be trusted and you are overlooked and unheeded."
She's still staring, her eyes turn towards the knight, dishonoured. The white-scaled sith-makar shakes her head. "I don't understand what just happened. I don't understand what happened before. You would not have survived the years Faran. We might not have. I needed to go alone, and I came back... and as everyone keeps saying, I was unharmed and there is nothing unusual."
Except... eyes unblinking, staring at the door again. The evidence suggests otherwise.
Faranmidahn's hands hang in the air for a moment as Zeke straightens, "No, that's now what-!" but... they're gone and she sighs with the door closing. She turns a grave smile toward Cryosanthia and reaches out to touch her face, gathering her feet, "But I would have been with you... like I promised to be. It shouldn't even have have been a question, but... I failed you." She steps forward and, as she may never have the height advantage, she takes the time to cradle the palescale's head in her arms, resting her cheek against her head, "We need to make someone see. Something -is- very wrong, but.. " 'But' has already been stated, succinctly.
"You haven't. You won't. I..." Cryosanthia rubs her head against Faran, enjoing behind held. She has big horns and other scaley bits up there which weren't before. All contribute to a weight and solid mass. "I... had an idea..."
"To go check on Menel... when no one was watching me, and see if the sith guards would let me in to see him. I... am wanting to go there now, to warn them about Zeke, but... that may just be a different version of the same feeling. That I'm willing to speak of it to you, might... mean... not? If so... this may occur to Zeke too, and a healer knows the best ways to injure."
Cryo gazes at her friend, "I will need you, in either case. We should warn them, and one of us will need to be stopped and that will fall to you."
Faranmidahn looks to her friend, another light touch of the lips to her scales, mindful of the horns as she's rather partial to her eyes and releases her, "Of course." The 'plan' gives her concerns, "Are you sure that's a good idea? I see the reasoning, but if the guards are familiar with what happened before... should I go in your stead, to warn them?" She lowers her eyes, "They don't know me, but..."
Cryosanthia brushes Faran's back, "They'll listen to me. I'm sure. The human guards wouldn't, the sith ones will. Perhaps I shouldn't come all the way in, but I should make sure you get in."
The Lucht nods and smiles wryly, "Ezil'll never let me hear the end of this." she expects, but nods, looking up to her friend, "Let's do it."
Cryosanthia stands, she nods. She has everything she needs, has owned, for a lifetime. It will do, and they take it away at the door anyhow. "Torrent is nearby? We should be able to arrive before Zeke, unless he has taken a carriage. I would say this is empty worry, but I'm sure, it's not. I think I can manage the run. We do always seem to end up in a chase, don't we?"
Cryo moves swiftly to the door, opening it, nodding to the guard outside. "You may come or not, we're going for a walk. After you Faran."
She waves the lucht past and they go down the hall.
Faranmidahn seems troubled, but she pats a pouch on her swordbelt, "My Rose can summon him, but it takes a a few seconds to work." As they start on their way out she nods, "It does... and... Cryo? I'm really sorry about the lance, I really am... and that you've been hurt so often. But... knowing it happened, that you can still laugh... is inspiring. I'm proud to be at your side."
"It's ok Faran, it didn't hurt that much. I like teasing you about it." The sith winks, "maybe for the rest of your life."
A roll of rose eyes, "Should I live so long..."
