Tending Kin

Light rain continues over Mictlan as evening wears on into night. Many of the shamans are preparing to re-sanctify the bones that lay beneath the surface of the dirt and grass here after the day's events. Away from the center, though, a house of sticks and grass has been erected, and it was here that the injured were taken. Zeke has drawn much of the attention, on a pallet on the far side of the room, and rests now, but Seldan remains awake on his own pallet on the other side of the room, covered in a rough blanket and his cloak, his armor and gear set aside for the moment. Still ashen pale, with the black on his neck visible in the dimness of the room against his skin, he does not look good at _all_, and has been largely silent.

Some are wounded. Some are fallen. Some are busy tending to the aftermath. Some are simply ... lost. Tlanexhuani is no shaman, no healer. Not his village, not his tribe. As for kin... the bluescale knows not who is kin any longer. Avoiding interfering with the healers before, and to keep out from under the shamans now, he steps quietly (as much as he can) into the hut. He looks first to Zeke and then to Zeke's kin as his hunched form compresses to find a spot within that is not in the way.

It seems that the kin, at least, is awake, for the pale blue eyes follow Tlan as he enters, and there is clear recognition there. No effort is made to sit upright, but he does shift a little on the pallet. The shamans are mostly outside, the healers mostly with Zeke, and there is room enough by the human's pallet.

The glint of eyes in the light is noted, or the shifting heard. As well, the space around is not so busy. The other (other) bluescale shifts nearer the kin's pallet. He regards Seldan again, tongue flicking out to the side of his maw and curling to taste, or maybe catch words before he speaks quietly. "You are Zeke's kin. Healers tend? Do you thirst? Hunger? This one is not healer... but could fetch... clean..." claws clasp at air briefly "Be not useless."

A swift shake of the head from the man on the pallet, and the eyes, and face turn towards Tlan. He seems not unfamiliar with the sith-makar, nor uncomfortable. "I will clean - later. The armor - cleans itself." Again, the voice is very hoarse, very unlike the light, easy tones that he had spoken in when he had traveled here with them. "Tell me - of yourself."

It is something. Maybe even enough. He settles down into a semi-comfortable sit with the rustling of leather across scales and light creaking of knees. His spear remains outside, as this is a healing hut, so claws go to the wall to aid in the lowering. "This one is Tlenexhuani, Crafter caste. Come through portal seeking Kin. Did not know what would find..." his snout drifts to Zeke, then eyes, only, flick momentarily to the doorway before both return to Seldan. "Did not imagine this."

The human on the cot seems to be having trouble speaking, and seems disinclined to move from the neck down, but seems alert enough, focused, and listening, for he inclines his head in a gesture that suggests understanding. "You are not to blame. She turned to - Bauglir." He continues to regard the sith-makar above him, steadily and without apparent fear. "Kin - will live. Long - story."

Tlanexhuani's tail flicks, and he rises up somewhat from his sitting; enough to rock to knees, upon which he shuffles to cotside rather than vicinity. A waterskin is shifted from his side and lifted slightly above Seldan for serving without need to move. Offered, with a questioning look and tilt of head. "Wet throat? This one share words, spare yours?"

He observes as he continues. "Shaman strong. Dragonfather strong. Shaman of the Dragonfather strongest." He does not, will not, cannot argue Seldan's assurance. "Sssa, this one not turn her, yet she turned. This one helped raise her. Must think... if raised different, better, would not have left. Would not have turned." There is not so much judgement there as a sadness.

An inclined head suggests assent, and Seldan opens his mouth just a little to receive water. He is silent, listening carefully to the words offered without immediate response. When Tlanexhuani is done, though, his eyes lower, and sadness colors him. "Two brothers. One - spat on Father's blade and turned away. The other - served the Light, but not as - father would have him." He swallows hard, and the gesture quite clearly hurts. "Raising is - not all. Will also."

Tlanexhuani may not be a healer, but he is patient and observant in tending and dispensing. "Ssa. Younglings willfull. Are own self. Own choice. Nest-father, nest-mother, clutchmates not always like choices. Does not make not kin, not make not care for." He is not keen on all softskin expressions, though the lowering of eyes may be enough. "But you know of this," he presumes. A breath is exhaled. "Cannot tend youngling for all time. Now this one tend kin this one can tend."

Seldan nods, slowly, without lifting his head from the pillow, and closes his mouth, raising a hand when he has had enough. Swallowing is quite clearly unpleasant, and he does not take much. "She - answers for her crimes," he manages after a moment of silence, in which the wince is clear. "Not - yours to bear. She - chose."

He lets out a breath. "You are - nest-watcher?"

Tlanexhuani lowers the skin, but keeps it near at-claw. "Ssa. This one was. Egg-tender. Nest-watcher. Hatchling-tamer. Youngling-chaser." A bit of extra hiss adds some brightness, even mirth to this, and his chest swells some as well. Briefly, yet after the dimming and deflating, some morsel of that uplift remains. "This one first clutch. Of one. Non-" a pause "-she was second clutch of one, many seasons later. Was first egg this one watched. This one not cunning hunter, not skilled warrior, not shaman... This one found caste as watcher."

Seldan's gaze is steady, sober as he listens, and when Tlanexhuani is done, he nods, a gesture that seems unusual or uncomfortable to him. "Important," he points out. "You - know Zeke? Speak - of him."

It may be wholly unsurprising that Tlanex's eyes flick to the resting shaman. "This one only knew him as egg, before. His nest-mother laid him, then soon left. No warning. No word. Now, this one seek to know him. One day be worthy as kin." His snout dips low to Seldan. "Asss you, Best Among Softskins. This one is glad he found kin when he knew none."

Seldan's head also turns towards the resting figure on the pallet on the other side of the hut, and he blinks a few times before turning his head back to look up at Tlanex. "You - defended him. That - is much," he manages, then reaches up to rub gingerly at his throat. "I - would rest," he adds, wearily. "Forgive me."

"As did you," not that Seldan needs informed. "Rest. Heal. This one keep watch." Of all the many things he cannot do well, watching over kin is not among them.