Tanning Her Hide
Log Info
- Title: Tanning her Hide
- Emitter: Cryosanthia
- Characters: Cryosanthia, Merek
- Place: W02: Mictlan
- Time: Sunday, August 16, 2020, 2:37 AM
- Summary: Cryosanthia is tanning some leather and speaking with one of her ancestors at Mictlan when Merek is escorted to her presence by one of the sanctuary guards. He has come by to check on her, and has a present. At first the present offends her, but then she decides it would be nice and asks him to put it in a tree as the tanning process has left her rather gorey and gamey. They talk about recent happenings, of which there are few, and Cryosanthia instructs Merek on his story telling. She tells him it makes work for his audience if he introduces a topic then expects them to ask about it, and that he should provide all the relevant details. Essentially, headline less. She also suggests he erase his memories of being tortured in Hell, because there is no value in them. Merek says they corrected his path, and do have some, which Cryo accepts and then suggests he always view them in that way so they stop bringing him down. They discus flight, and plays, and then go their separate ways.
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Located within the Deep Woods, and hours past Wilderness Pointe, in the heart of its northern woods, bones frame this hollowed-out space. Massive and heavy, they reach towards the sky, meeting--almost--in the center like great and worn stalagmites. Or giant teeth. After a few seconds--it's quickly evident that this is a space carved from a dragon's bones. A very, very large...dragon's bones. The air smells of ash, brimstone, and earth. Underneath the apex of the bones lie the workings of a central Fire.
The grounds are run by shamans of the sith-makar, and the sacred space dedicated to the Death Singing Dragon, one of their names for the goddess, Vardama. There are always a number of them about, from a mixture of tribes. Formally, the sith use it to sing the souls of their dead back to the land of Wing and Flame, and celebrate the Memory of Blood. It was here that brave heroes stood, and vanquished the ashen warriors of old, thereby freeing the land from Thul's curse. Informally, it is a gathering place.
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"Cryo, you're gouging too deep. Less pressure on the knife."
The whitescale looks at the sith-makar beside her, dropping her hands and the scraping tool between her legs. She's squatting down, resting her weight on her tail as is the other sith. Her instructor is an older woman, mesomorphic with heavy scale plates, strong shoulders. The build of a Crafter-Caste with a lot of experience. A striking contrast to the longer, leaner and elegant form of Cryosanthia, although they do have a certain similarity in horns.
"You said to make sure I got all the muscle and fat, that it would cause problems otherwise."
The other sith lays her hand on the whitescale's knee, "Your warrior instincts are not helping you here. The blade should be angled to slide, not catch and cut. Like body surfing the rapids, turn yourself to deflect off the rocks."
"This one is not Warrior-caste, but understands." She raises the scraper to the stretched out skin in front of her. A lighter touch, a shallower angle. A lot less material peels from the inside but still falls to the wet pile beneath the frame. Cryo's feet are bare, no boots, her scales dusty and dirty from the work and walking.
"That's better." The two sith go silent, one working, one watching. The only sounds are the scraping of the blade and the noises in the forest. The occasional heavy breath from exertion. The smell surrounds, it is strongly scented work, permeating everywhere. Finally, the one teaching says, "That looks ready. You can start working the brains in. Each creature has enough brains to tan its entire hide, fortuitously."
Cryo looks beside her, "That's odd. A proportional thing? A size of skin needs a size of brain to monitor it?"
The other sith shrugs, a quiet chuckle, no words.
"How was it discovered that brains would work for curing?" Cryo keeps up her questions.
Once again, the other sith chuckles. No shrug, and words, "The story goes, younglings playing knocked over a kettle of brain stew onto a hide, then fought with the hide, twisting and whipping and pulling on it. The leather became quite soft and subtle."
Cryo nods, listening, "That's true, or a story?"
"Everything is a story." The elder sith-makar answers, "Some are more made up than others."
There is an interruption. A female Warrior-caste leads a human visitor. The Warrior wears heavy armour, which has a dark green-ish hue that blends well with her verdant scales. She also has the humourless demeanor most of Mictlan's guards possess. "Cryosanthia. This one is your responsibility. Make sure he leaves when he has finished visiting with you."
Merek takes the time to put on his best dark attire, which is adjusted about him, with the beltcape that is adjusted about the waist, his felt hat upon him. When he's escorted by, he would nod a bit to the guard, "I appreciate it." A little incline, then he takes the hat to place it to the side. His hair looks a little bit messy, while he has a thick stubble on his features.
He does look a little bit different, with his gaze being a bit luminescent, "Cryo, it's nice to see you about." He smiles a bit, though he still looks distant like he often does. There's a greeting with an incline.
"Merek! Hello!" Cryosanthia looks over in surprise. She's currently crouched in front of a skin, stretched across a frame. It appears to be something like a doe's. The hair has been removed and the inside, which is the part she's currently working, also has been cleaned. Nearby is a bucket full of a pastey white-ish grey mixture. She isn't wearing much, a loin-cloth which leaves her chest unusually bare. Her boots, AnyGarment Sleeves, gloves and even her haversack don't appear to be nearby. Also unusual. She's spattered from the wet-work, all along her front, her hands especially gory. The skin stinks, the bucket, she does also, even to a human nose. "This one would hug, but is dirty. What brings you here?"
Merek does look to Cryo, noting the fact that some of the equipment which she keeps is not worn. The man thinks about it, then he answers, "Nice to see ya too. I don't mind, in any case. I came to check up on you, since I can travel a lot easier. I also probably will be checking in on a few people." The man seems to consider, "I was brought in on a mission, and it took me to the influence of the Negative Energy Plane. Because of that, I've mostly been... Not adventuring."
There's a look to the skin, and to all of the work that the sith'makar was doing, "You seem to be doing well." He nods a bit, while he takes a moment to offer what looks to be a pack to the woman. "It's a plush, I made it. Is a sith'makar, it emulates the scales, so it should be peaceful to nap with if you like." There's a nod in thought.
"This one leaves you two," The dark green Warrior-caste sith announces, thumping her tail, turning and departing. She walks away with heavy steps, each one making her armour clunk.
"This one is not a youngling, Merek. The things wrong with me will not be solved by gifts." Cryo stares at the pack. The mention of dolls recalls the tea party Acedia threw for Zeke. He had a plush of Svarshan, and of Seldan. The sith's scent changes, she inhales sharply, the hide-in-progress overwhelming her long nose. Would it help her? If not, eggs are still planned for the future. A youngling might treasure having such a toy.
The thought follows, perhaps Merek needs to create something too. This is part of his process. She relaxes, smiles, "It is a kind thought Merek. This one is dirty, so I cannot handle it now. Place it in the tree and when I have completed the task I will put it among my things. Thank you."
"The Negative Energy plane does not sound enjoyable. You should refuse such things, if it turns out the mission is poorly detailed. Turn away, no need to endure more trauma for mere coin."
"I know, apologies about that, I figured you might like it. It's not of anyone in particular though should match you in tone," Merek admits, while he takes a moment to think about it. "Well, it was at the point we were already in. We still managed to fight the shade of a Lich," he states. There's a look to the whole of the place, "I am mostly keeping to the gardens, while making new items for folk."
Cryosanthia nods, her thoughts centering on the mention of a lich. Another immortal, as undeath is a kind of immortality. Another being obviously missing a piece. "This one does not know the difference between a shade of a lich, and a lich, but is happy you defeated it."
She turns, switching the frame to a horizontal position. She taps at the skin, ensuring it is still stretched tight, "This one will have to keep working as we talk. The speed is unclear, but delays likely do not help." She pours some of the paste into a globe in the centre, spreads it with a brush, painting out in all directions.
She's unclear what the next step entails, beyond working the brains into the hide. She slaps at the surface. The doe-skin vibrates like a drum, spraying the coating and splashing it all up her front. She blinks to clear her eyes, exhales hard to clear her nose. Thank the Silver Empress her mouth was still closed. "That... was a mistake."
Merek watches while the doe skin is worked by Cryo, then he blinks a bit when that comes up from that swing. "Ah, don't mind at all. Anything new?" he asks, looking to the woman, then he nods a bit. "It's nice to find work to do, I usually keep to things I like to do." A look to the place while he inhales, then he sweeps a bit of that hair along back. "I am thinking about building a new place, maybe changing up the place I already use."
"There is little new, "Cryosanthia says, switching to pressing the paste onto the hide, squeezing and pinching it, working inch by inch. She does this with a lack of confidence, waiting for a better idea to occur, "The people do not change quickly. Suggestions for a building or to change the landscape are not appreciated. The fishermen and Taverns inside Alexandria continue as they have, before the plague, through the plague, after. If they were affliced, they are pleased, otherwise it was someone else's problem and they did not care or notice."
Her rubbing is especially vigorous, the frame creaks as she pushes. She seems a little larger, stronger. "Her corruption retreats, the Felwood's grows into the vacated areas in most spots, retreats in others. Her influence on me remains unchanged. Scars are scars."
"A new place suits you. We all need a new place."
Merek nods a bit to Cryosanthia while he thinks about that. "The place could use expansion. I assisted in building an encampment for sith'makar we freed from slavers. I think with enough work it's possible," he states, then he crosses his arms a bit, "Thanks, anyway the Inns are doing well, I'm trying to assist new people in the city when I'm not in study." Cryo stops with her hands deep in the goo on the skin, "I should check on that town we helped when we recaptured Gilead's Horn. Perhaps they... no. Easier to hire someone, than go."
She loosens one of the bindings on the frame, allowing her to roll and squeeze the skin more easily. She works it, attempting to get the brains absorbed.
"Yes, well, it will expand when it expands." She says, somewhat dismissively, "It is good you are assisting people. What are you helping them with?"
"Ah, mostly with finding a bit of lodging and where the places are in the city," Merek mentions, while he takes a moment to watch Cryo's work. The man seems to content in thinking, "I've learned new magic, mainly it makes traveling a lot easier." "I have to flip this, it's going to go all over." The spattered sith warns, and flipping the frame goes as described. She does it slowly, so there's only small arcs of droplets away from it, followed by steady drips on the ground as she puts the remaining amount of the brain-mixture on the other side. "Maybe I was supposed to squish it all in the bucket?"
"We looked around at a lot of places. There are a bunch of places to stay in Alexandria. Easiest to find something you could remodel, it is unlikely exactly what you want would exist. If you are looking only for a room, there is a great selection. This one would share thoughts, but what this one was looking for is unlikely to match your needs."
Cryosanthia squeezes the leather again, trying to get it to take up the paste. She ends up pushing from both sides, the skin trapped between her palms. Her hands and forearms are covered up to her elbows, the smell has not improved. "Travel Magic sounds nice. You could get away."
Merek keeps watching while Cryo keeps working, not minding. The man takes the time to consider, his arms beginning to cross while he speaks. "Might be a bit different, though I wouldn't mind interesting environments." The man nods a bit, making space while he manages to keep from the frame. "Either way, a sanctuary would be a bit intreresting. A friend told me about a nice island which I can use."
"Uh-huh," Cryosanthia says, listening but focused on her work. She flips the frame back, so the inside is up and lays it on the ground. She takes a few stakes and pushes them in at the corners so it is pegged and held by the frame. Taking the bucket, she shakes what is left in it onto the skin, then gets some rocks and uses them to rub and grind it in.
"You don't have to introduce a topic then wait for me to ask 'oh what is it?'. If you have some interesting enviroments you want to talk about, go right into talking about them. If you want to talk about the nice island, say how it is, I don't want to have to ask is it near, is it far, warm, with cliffs, sandy beaches or stone. Are there fruits, feral pigs, shipwrecks nearby to go diving and see?"
She leaves some of the stones lying on the skin, picks up another couple, kneels so she can get the weight of her torso behind, and pushes on the rocks with her palms. "There's a nice waterfall nearby. I like it alot. There's an easy trail. Eighty years ago when I was afraid of wizards and you all surprised me at the stables, that's when I found it, when I was running through the forest to get away from you all. It was winter, and cold, and clear. The water stabbed like tiny needles up under each of my scales. I could lie in the pond, stare up at the water cascading down, the distorted lights of the stars. Take heavy breaths full of water. I felt safe, secure. This one took Zeke there, and he... liked it I guess. It didn't seem to make as much an impression on him, as me."
Cryo sits back on her heels and tail, looking over, her arms covered in goop. She looks very primitive in only a loin cloth, and the blue lines through her scales are very visible. She stares, expression impassive, eyes like hard sapphires, "Now you know all about the nice waterfall and didn't have to ask me why it's nice."
Merek nods a bit while he seems to think about it, "Well, I will keep that in mind." A look to the place, "Either way I might like to look at that waterfall a little."
Cryosanthia stands, holding her arms out to the side so the solution drips away from her and onto the stretched skin. She is still, her head returning to stare at her work. Something about her posture is different, the woman appears shorter, perhaps due to the way she is hunched. Her highlight scales are glowing faintly, all the thin blue lines traced on her are lit, giving her a faint halo that obscures her form.
With her simple clothing, the mess of her work, a crafter's stance, she seems older. Far older than her century of years, and somehow more primitive, a call-back to an earlier age of the sith-makar.
"Six to eight hours in the sun to let the solution work, then six to eight hours immersed, then the stretching. This one shall leave it until Lady Brightscales looks down, then use the stream." She snorts at a thought, "The water's extras shall assist the process. You will attend to assist? Ok."
The white-scale lizard woman straightends up, she flicks her hands again. There is no glow to her, and her ankles are high, her neck long, the bouncy whiplash has returned to Cryosanthia's spine. She looks over at the man. "Oh, Merek, you're still here? What was... yes. This one shall show you the waterfall, perhaps. Also, Braelnoir needs your assistance. There is a man, a human Bard, who is abusing the Charm Person spell and taking girls on adventures. She's found herself succumbing to the spell in his presence. There is also something going on with the Druids, but they will not tell. You missed a Midsummer's Night celebration at Wilderness Pointe. Elly and Kami were hosting. It seems so long ago, when we rescued her from the Vampires. We talked... about things this one still thinks about."
It does take a moment, while Merek watches Cryo begin to slide into that mindset, waiting before he will nod a bit. Once the woman seems to recover enough, he offers a light hand to the sith'makar on the shoulder, "Yes, I remember that, and... It would be nice to see a celebration. You know where you are, Cryo?" he asks. There's a calm to that husky drawl of a voice. Even for all of his own issues of what he's been through, he tries to be there for the sith.
The man then thinks about it, "Show me the waterfall?" he asks, taking a moment to think about it. "You know, I took up making a few maps, while coloring them, it makes me feel nicer. I will keep in mind all of that, I want people to be safe." There's a look to Mictlan, "You are doing well in finding relaxation in the homeland?"
"I'm in Mictlan, not Am'shere." The white lizard woman looks at Merek's hand on her shoulder. She pats it, then lifts it off. "Of course I know where I am. And the nice waterfall I was talking about earlier. It's a ways a way and I don't think I'll go today. Sometime."
She looks at her hands, which are still gorey, "Ah... sorry. This one should have cleaned up first." She turns around on the spot a few times, looking in different directions.
Merek seems to think about it, and looks to the sith'makar, while he begins to debate if she needs assistance. He then figures she would want to work through this, nodding a bit and waiting for her to find a right direction. "Fair, Mictlan not Am'shere. I can fly for miles a day, it's nice that I don't need airships, though of course that means a lot of personal thought put into it."
"Oh, your wings work better now? Wouldn't that be very tiring?" Cryosanthia looks at Merek, looking him over. She's still holding her arms out to her sides. She flicks them, attempting to shake off some of the fluids on them. "I think I would still want to ride an airship for long distances. Congratulations on that new ability."
"I don't even need wings, just magic," Merek mentions, "I have greater magic along with me," would be what he offers, while he takes a moment to look to those arms, then back to the sith'makar. With a look to Cryosanthia, he nods a bit, then walks up into an escort position so that he can follow along. "You can still use that cleaning spell, right?"
"Yes. Well no." Cryosanthia says, "I could never cast that spell, it was in my whitescale gloves. They are in my bag, along with all my other things. Except the ring, I gave that back."
She holds out her hands, fingers spread. The ring finger on her right hand has a noticeable divot where a ring should be. Where a ring has been, for a long, long time. "I need to wash off enough to put on the gloves so I can properly clean up. Don't worry about it Merek, I'll be fine. Were there other things you wanted to talk about?"
Merek looks to that finger, while he seems to think about Cryo's words to him, then he nods. "I mostly wanted to make sure you and all the folk in Mictlan were doing alright. I admit, I'm trying to... Keep away from the city. Be it work as a cleric, to work as an adventurer, I can't seem to get away from what I went through." The man scratches along his face to that thick stubble with a little bit of a sigh. "Anyway, I'm just dealing with a lot."
The white sith-makar looks at him, her head nodding slowly. She exhales, crouches down and picks up some leaves and rubs them on her arms. She's heading off towards a stream, somewhat reluctantly. "This one knows Merek. I can't imagine what the Demon Duke did to you, from what I've seen and heard of his treatment of others. Have you found someone to talk to about it? I can't help you. I am not a cleric and even a cleric would strain."
She laughs grimly, "Prayers might work. You never know. I have thought though, perhaps you could get those memories erased. There are spells to drag whole towns to other planes and explode mountains, there must be one to forget terrible memories and trauma."
Cryo turns to face Merek, "Think it over. If there is nothing of value in them, no information, no secrets to weaken the Demon Duke, no true names. No other people, only demons. If it is just suffering, pain, taunting, why burden yourself with them? Remember being taken, remember the start of it, then remember being rescued. There is no reason to let Him live in your head."
"I've had my mind manipulated before I think, it's not that simple, that takes a piece of you, before you know it, you forgot all, it changes you. No more than... You can change what you know," Merek admits. "There is a lot I learned, about the way of the world. Besides, I was on a dark path until that. The... I would become what I was before he took me. At least this way, I keep my faith." The man looks then to Cryo.
Then he follows along while he places both hands to his pockets, "Besides, I have a way to keep that back, within a wall." There's a nod while he takes a lift of the hand of his, then thinks to it, "Waterfall."
"I'm surprised you shy away from something difficult, that isn't like you, but if it is too much to manage and you find some worth in the experience, then that is what you must build on. Every time your thoughts take you back, remember why you have decided to keep them. Their value in re-directing you to a better path." Cryosanthia says, coming upon a stream. She stares at it, then jumps in, and starts splashing water all over herself.
She turns her head away, "I wish you would not speak to me about them. Every time I saw the Demon Duke, I was helpless and useless, and a friend died. It makes me feel helpless, and useless, that I can't help you. I can't do a sscaless rotting thing around here without sssomeone stepping up to sshow me how much better they can do it, but counssseling and comforting you... no one."
Merek looks to the weather in thought, while he sniffs that air, then he looks to Cryosanthia proper, "... You're better than a lot of people," he admits, while he lifts up his shoulders. The man seems to think about it, while he takes a bit of water to wipe his face. "I'd like to take you to a play sometime, I know you like theatre. I'm not moving away from it." He sighs, then he takes the whole place into consideration, "You enjoying the work?" He motions back to what she was doing.
The sith stretches out and lies in the stream, although she seems reluctant to put her head underwater, yet does so anyways. It flows around her. She resembles a snowbank, stranded in the summer, "A play would be nice. The leather working is interesting. These are things that would be fine to do, yes."
Although for the moment, feeling the water wash over appears to be what she desires.
Merek looks to the water, seeming to think about it, then he leans next to it. He's content to be patient, while he takes a moment to lean back and look at the stars of the sky. "And watching the sky. That's... Always nice," he says, nodding a bit, while he takes a sheet of parchment which he begins to draw the constellations of Mictlan with.
GAME: Merek rolls craft/cartography: (10)+8: 18
Cryosanthia pushes herself up, water spraying everywhere. She stands, swishing her feet in the stream and wiping at herself, flicking the water off her scales. "Well, that's clean enough. This one will take you to the edge of Mictlan, then I must attend to some other things before I see to the hide again. Thank you for the visit and the present. I shall try to encounter you in Alexandria soon. I will go by the Flight Wright and see what is showing."
Merek nods a bit, while he begins to stand up, taking a moment to look to Cryo, "It's nice to see you. I should probably be back to what I was doing," he says, then he begins to follow along with the woman, "And we always will have a place for you in Alexandria if you want to adventure. I am thinking about taking up a few peaceful missions. Pretty fun to garden as well!"
"Gardening sounds nice." Cryo says, "I have an idea of something peaceful people can do."
She doesn't elaborate however, walking in silence towards the edge of the sanctuary. The barrier is not obvious, but long residents know by the subtle shift in the air and scents when they have passed beyond. The white sith looks around, there should be guardians, there likely are, out of sight. She makes a small curtsey.
"Thanks again for the present and your visit, Merek. Peace... and farewell."
Merek would look a bit perplexed by that wording, and nods a bit to Cryo, while he takes a moment to place the hat back on. "Thank you, and walk safe," he states, then he offers a wave while he walks along up into the night.
