Reunion to Remember

Sleet and freezing rain fall from the sky, but the fires of Mictlan are warm nonetheless and life goes on for those that call this region home. Mostly, the individuals of this area are sith-makar. Those of many scale-colors wander around to various tasks. Tending the ever-present fires being one of these things, but not the only one. Among those making food is one of these as well, and it is among the food-makers that there is a blue-scaled female directing the others to their tasks more than she is tending the food itself. She huffs and looks skyward, but continues on in her task undaunted by the weather - like many others.

Of the many makari that live in mictlan, one of them is decently well known. At least, for their incredibly shiny scales and their ever present deliveries of firewood. Clad in nothing more than a tunic and pants, he drags a load of firewood around to various food-makers. A halberd, ominous, is strapped over his back, but he happily gives wood to those still tending to flame.

He eventually gets to the blue-scaled female. "Food tender," he rumbles warmly. "Thisss one ssstill hasss firewood. Have you know any otherssss that are of need?"

One more makes his way onto the grounds, the bronze-clad blue moving slowly, even tentatively. The land is unfamiliar to this one has he is upon it, with eyes and nostrils shifting from one individual to another as they take in what is another unfamiliar fact: many makari. He comes to a stop, leaning upon the spear used as walking staff, pausing to take deep breaths. Taking in the scents of the land, a brief rest, or both?

Among various forms of the Sith-makar, making up a rainbow of colorations, there is at least one individual who stands out as most distinctly not belonging. The Half-sil is often utilized as a messenger, due to having certain skillsets that aid her on the road. This is what seems to have brought her to Mictlan at the moment. Unfortunately, the weather certainly has her looking more than a little sodden, though her cloak offers some measure of protection from the elements. Strangely, she seems quite at home amongst the Makari, enough so to approach right up to where the food is being prepared.

"Sorry to interrupt, I can see you're busy." Rune unslings her pack and digs out a box with fine wax sealing along the edges, obviously meant to keep out weather just like this. She casts a glance towards the firewood-bearer, showing an apologetic dip of her head before looking back to the blue-scaled individual before her. "I've got a delivery from the city. I was told to deliver it to the cook." The box has the markings from one of the spice vendors in Alexandria.

"Nonantziné." Offers the female sith to Skielstregar politely, but perhaps a bit firmly. "Thiss onesss fire could usse sssome tending, but the othersss are well enough for now. Sstay a while and warm yoursself."

Only once she has completed the welcoming of Skiel to her fire does the female turn her attention on the half-elf. She seems to take the other in for a moment before she offers a reply. "Thisss one will accept it. Would you care for sssome food while you are here?" Though her words are polite enough, but something about her seems... discomforting. As if her words and manner do not quite reflect the truth.

"Nonantziné," Skielstregar repeats, bowing his head. "Very well!" Ready to accept his role, he crouches down to his haunches, grabbing at handfuls of firewood on his makeshift sled to help stoke the flame the bluescale was tending to.

The interruption gets him to blink in surprise. It wasn't uncommon for a softskin to be here, but it was still one that was notable. "Sssha, you sseem drenched, food and fire will do you well."

He peers off as the spice is exchanged, and spies a bronze-clad bluescale a ways away. He raises a large hand, and beckons them over. They look positively exhausted!

There is something to the scents on the air that almost seems familiar to the recently-arrived blue as he inhales. Enough so that he can even hear words carried in the pattering of sleet... A moment later, the pattering is joined by a clattering of splints against scales as he turns abruptly towards one of the cookfires and rapidly approaches those present at it. The spear is still held as a stave, yet he does not utilize it so heavily in his rush.

He comes to a halt, eyes and snout lingering on the blue before flicking to the others and back. His tail goes rather still behind him as he repeats ... confirms... asks? "Nona?"

With confirmation that she has the right person, Rune hands over the box of spices. Once the job is complete, she crouches and pulls her pack closed again. There is a slight tilt of her head, something very subtle, perhaps picking up on that manner in the female's words, but Rune seems not to delve further into it. Business is business.

Instead, she pulls her pack back up onto one shoulder, turning her attention towards Skielstregar instead, "One of the risks of the job, I'm afraid. I wouldn't want to impose too much, but I won't say no to a bit of warming by the fire. Maybe ride things out until the weather breaks for a few hours." The Half-sil has a relatively open expression, offering an appreciative smile. Then, her attention is briefly caught by the sound of splint against scales, a curious expression thrown towards the other Makari.

"Make yourssself comfortable." Offers the female, motioning to the flames. She even moves to get some food for the pair. She is stopped however by the shortening of her name. "Nonan-"

She starts to correct the individual moving toward her and then she stops herself and blinks twice at the male who is approaching. The bowl in her hands - thankfully empty - drops to the ground, and she reaches for him. "Ssssa! Isss that you?" The rest of what she says is in rushed draconic. "Uncle? It has been years! I forgot how much my son looks like you! Ah, it's good to see you again!"

Skielstregar rumbles a chuckle towards the half-sil. "Nonsenssse. Asss much asss the city hasss done for usss, it isss easssy to ssspare a bite and warmth. Safer to refreshed from bad weather. Don't want to get sssick now."

The bronze-clad bluescale gathers some attention from the shiny makari, a typical greeting dying on his maw as he looks between both azure hued kin. He blinks. Blinks again. Then starts to grin silly, his tail flicking to and fro behind him. "... remindsss thisss one of finding their sssister again..." he rumbles to himself, not wanting to interrupt a potential reunion.

If the crystal-tipped spear was ever truly a crutch, it is not so now. It is left to fall to the wayside as Tlanexhuani steps to his kin to clasp arms. "You have grown! How are- Your son?! How are you both?!" His eyes flit to the others. They are not ignored, but there is not yet room in his words for greetings as his eyes continue on in rapid search. "He is here? Has he chosen caste? Is this your new village? When did you arrive? What? When? Why?" There is not yet room in his words for the stampede of questions he begins to ask. When he pauses to breathe, he offers a quick, late, "Peace on your nests!" to the others lest he forget.

"Thank you." Rune offers in return, adjusting her pack briefly before chuckling at Skielstregar's comments. "I've already got a Makari who worries too much, I should be careful I don't gain more." Amusement lingers in her expression, at least until that sound of a clattering bowl and the string of rushed Draconic that follows.

Her movement towards the fire is halted mid-step, unable to quite draw her eyes away from the reunion. It is the sort of sight that is heartening. And yet, there is something sad in her eyes at that, but it doesn't reach the rest of her features, "It's always good to see reunions." Rune offers a smile to Tlanexhauni, "Peace to you."

Nonantziné offers a quick flick of her tail to Skielstregar. "He isss thisss onesss blood-brother! Uncle isss an... Affection. He isss much older than thisss one." She says this with light embarrassment that fades as her brother takes her arms and she leans into him. Then she laughs at his bevy of questions. "He isss all grown up now my kin. Thisss one hass not seen him in..."

Here she ducks her head, looking absolutely crushed. "My baby! He never comesss to visssit hiss mother! He hasss descided that he doesss not need thisss one. Thisss one hass tried to reach out but..." She sniffs and looks at the other blue-scale hopefully. "Perhapsss you could convince my Maksur to come home? To let me care for him?"

The shiny silverscale chuckles at the rapid fire questions, him having a similar time with his own reunion some time ago. While they sort that out, Skiel picks up the dropped bowl, grabs another, and gets some food sorted for himself and the half-sil.

He sits and offers it to her. "Here you go. Thisss one agrees. Reunionsss are nice."

"Peassse on your nessst," he offers back warmly, idly inhaling the meal. There is a quirk of the head. "Maksur..." he quietly repeats to himself. He himself has certainly felt as such many times. Skiel shakes his head. "Nonantziné, who isss your hatchling?" he asks, curiosity getting the better of him.

"This one is called Tlanexhauni," he offers to the others in more proper introduction as tailtip flicks happily behind. "Grown?! Ssa, many years..." He is pained by her shift in posture, scent, her lament. "You know he is well? Younglings are not young forever, Nona. Not always need mothers, or uncles..." There is a mild his of amusement, though it does not extend to all of his posture. At the mention of care, and the strange name, the bit of mirth fades and concern for kin returns. "...Maksur? He needs care? What is wrong?"

Something in the situation playing out before her seems to hit a bit too close to home for the Half-sil messenger. It only shows briefly in a tensing of her brows and a slight downward twitch of her ears beneath the hood. She quickly schools her expression, grateful for the distraction that Skiel offers by offering out the bowl of food.

"Mmm." She takes a seat close to the fire, leaving companionable distances between her and the others. It seems that she has some familiarity with Draconic, herself, as Rune lifts an eyebrow at the name, her expression curious.

"I'm called Rune." The Half-sil offers, though it is obvious that is not her full name by any means. "Don't mind me, you have more important matters to tend to."

The female nods politely to Rune. "Peassce on your nesst." She offers smoothly in full greeting, and then looks at Skielstregar. "Hisss name isss Maksurwarayuslih, but thisss one called him sssimply Maksur. He isss... not well uncle."

Here she lets out a little concerned noise, a mournful sound. "He needsss hisss mother! They were right about our nessstss uncle. They were cursssed. My poor baby. He wass born with no limbsss on hisss left ssside! You can ssssee yesss? He needsss to be looked after! Needss thisss one to tend to him." She sounds desperate, clinging to her 'uncle' with her claws gently, and looking at Rune and Skiel for confirmation that her child needs her.

Skielstregar empathizes with Tlanexhauni on some of the fronts and aspects they bring forth. "Ah, thisss one isss Skielstregar, Warrior Cassste. Pleased to meet you all."

At that, the name and the condition, his brows furrow slightly in thought. "... everyone isss broken in sssome way," Skiel mentions slowly, him having quite the experience with being broken beyond repair. Something isn't ringing right for the silverscale. "Thiss... one knows ssseveral peoplesss without limb or eye, and they have overcome. You sssay they ssstill live? Grown up?"

Tlanexhuani cannot deny her clinging, nor her concerns, though the amount of unexpected incoming information is more than a little overwhelming. "Ssaaa..?" The yet-confused sway of his tail halts cold at mention of the nests, and he stiffens beneath her clutching. It lasts only briefly before he steps back from her claws. "This one... this one will find him!" An encouraging promise(?) as he backpedals and retrieves his spear to rush off to find the kin of concern. All with earnest zeal and haste. Perhaps too much so.

As the full name is offered up, Rune is unable to quite hide a slight wince. It's obvious, at that point that she is familiar with the language, though her relaxed posture among them suggests more familiarity with them as a people. It seems the girl was likely to simply quietly tend to her food, but then the pleading question is thrown their way and that gives her pause.

"Everyone is a little broken." She agrees with Skielstregar on that point, though the Half-sil doesn't pry into what burdens he might carry. Clearly she has her own. Instead, she looks to Nonantzine. "Everyone needs support of their family." She starts, seeming to chose words carefully. "But as we get older, what that support looks like sometimes has to change." The girl lifts her shoulders as if helpless to offer real advice, there. "I don't know your son, so I'm a poor source of advice, I'm afraid."

Nonantziné nods to Skielstregar. "A warrior?" She questions politely. "Perhapsss you would be willing to accompany Uncle to Alexandria? When he realizesss that he doesss not know where to look? Thisss one knowsss that thisss one'sss Maksur isss there. He looks very much like Uncle though perhapsss a bit ssmaller."

She's giving hopeful little wags of her tail as she watches her 'uncle' tear off, there's a sense of self-satisfaction about her. As if she's gotten something that she's been waiting a very long time for. She turns her attention to Rune and nods to the woman. "Thisss one merely wantssss to take care of him. Perhapsss take him back to Am'ssshere. Be a family again. Thisss one misssesss him. Even ssseeing him would make thiss one happy."

GAME: Skielstregar rolls intelligence: (1)+0: 1 (EPIC FAIL)

Skielstregar nods sharply at question. "Yess, Warrior casste. They take their duties seriously. This one will accompany Uncle to the city, can give them a ride." He finishes his bowl and rises slowly. There's a bob to Rune. "Thisss ones support Hass changed much during their time and... trialsss."

Something isn't clicking, it clear as he scratches his head. "Looksss like Uncle, sssmaller. Maybe missing limbsss. Blues scale. Hrm. Thisss one knowsss none missing limbs. Well, except their chuiaa, but they are red."

The silver scale gathers his things, unslinging his halberd to use as a walking stick. "They will assist. Thisss one knowsss full well what it isss like to missss family. Peassse on your nessst, ssstay warm!"

He ambles off into the night, a half formed gesture to summon a steed ready. He pauses. "Blue scale? Smaller? No limbs? This one knows of no broken blue scales. Hrm...." he mumbles to himself as he goes off to try and find Uncle.

"Actually, if you're heading back to the city, I might tag along." Rune pushes herself to her feet, shoveling the food down with as much speed and grace as she can manage. It is more speed than grace. "It's safer on the roads with a group." If nothing else, she can at least ride behind the Makari, they may just scare off any potential bandits on the way.

Nonantzine's words about her son seem to stab through some bit of her emotional shield, though. "If I see someone that fits your description, I'll let him know." Rune doesn't address more than that. She has her own experiences with parents and the overprotective blue-scale may have just brought those to the surface.

-End