Spirits of Wind and Wave
Log Info
- Title: Spirits of Wind and Wave
- Emitter: Zeke
- Place: Shoreline of Alexandria
High above in the sky, the sun is shining. It's warmth a gift to those below. In particular to one very lazy sith-makar. Well... lazy today. Normally Zeke would be extremely busy, but he was told quite forcibly to take a break and after the fight on the beach yesterday - when he'd fully intended to take a rest - he decided that while the beach was a good idea, a safer beach might be in order.
So here he is, sprawled out on the sand on his belly like any good sith-makar might well be. His armor and most of his clothing is neatly divested into a pile nearby. Close at hand in case he should have sudden need of it.
He wears then, only the short-cut pants that he almost always does, a pure white against his dark blue scales. Without his armor however, one can not help but notice the sith-makar himself. He's a muscular male, but he has an air of leanness to him. As though he's recently lost weight. His scales are a deep-ocean blue, darker toward his spine and his limbs but over-all the same color through-out. Save for his scars. Some of them look oddly purposeful. Small ones near his spine, his horns. Others are clearly not. Not-so-faint lines mark his body here and there. One particularly nasty-looking mark lies on his lower back several inches above his tail. It has an oddly surgical look to it.
Most notable however, are his crystal limbs. His left arm and left leg shine in the sun like little stars captured and given form on his body. The blue-scale lets out a soft sigh of satisfaction and burrows a little deeper into the warm, warm sand.
It's the call of the gulls that brings Cuemoni here. Her golden eyes are trained on the sky as her steps walk along the sands, regarding the sea-birds that ride on salt-tinted winds as the water laps at the shore. Her turquoise scales shine brilliantly in the light of the Dragonfather's sun, the angular marks of red paint that flank her eyes and adorn her body glistening in the light. She is dressed in her traditional hide armor, still refusing, it would seem, to find any manner of softskin fashion that might be adapted to her form.
Sometimes tradition is important--but there's also something to be said for simple ignorance, too.
It is with that in mind that it seems almost fitting that, until she's a few feet away from Zeke, she really doesn't seem to notice him. It's a little flicker of the golden eyes at first when she does, nictating when she recognizes who this is, as though there are many makari in Alexandria with beautiful crystalline limbs. She shifts a little as she looks down at him.
"Ay, this one did not mean to disturb your rest, Shaman," she rumbles apologetically. "This one came to the shores to leave offering to the local spirits of wind and water."
The sound of approaching footsteps causes one languid green eye to open warily then, seeing the female sith approaching he rolls a little in the sand; propping himself up on his flesh-and-blood arm. This offers a half-view of his chest. More ritualistic-looking scarring touches him here. In fact, it covers the whole of his chest though it is difficult to see the entire pattern with him still half laying down.
"Peasssce on your nessst Ssshaman." His voice is a low languid rumble; he's been resting peacefully it seems. "Thisss one doess not mean to interrupt your offeringsss; will not do ssso."
"You have not interrupted this one's offerings with your presence," Cuemoni responds. Her golden eyes observe him. Not in a way that is exploitative, but curious. Like she's trying to register if some of these marks are things she's observed from elsewhere in her visits to other tribes of Am'shere in recent memory.
She does something that maybe Zeke does not expect then. She lowers herself down to the ground, sitting on her knees and legs in a position that seems like it might hurt after some time, but allows her tail to curl out comfortably in the sand. "This one hopes you are enjoying the Dragonfather's blessings," she says. "It is a beautiful day."
Zeke sits up a little bit more, his tail moving lazily in the sand. Doing so reveals the rest of the marks. They are circles around his elbows, his wrists, his ankles, but the bulk of them are spread like little dots across his chest. His torso bears other scars as well, including one that disrupts the marks on his chest. "Thisss one isss."
He seems pleased with her remark, lifting his head skyward for a moment and thrumming lightly in appreciation for his deity's good light. The marks, are from a fairly obscure tribe, but Cuemoni might well recognize them since the tradition of them has been spreading of recent amongst the sith. They mark him as a warrior. A defender of the innocent. And most importantly, as a healer. Each mark on his chest is the mark of someone who's life he has saved. If the tally is correct... Many owe their lives to the blue-scale. Very many.
"Sssa. Thissss one isss tempted to ssswim; catch a fisssh and eat it." His lips twitch, his tail languidly swishes in pleasure at the thought. "Thisss one would welcome you to join when you have made your offeringsss."
There is a sort of awed rumble in Cuemoni's chest as it registers with her what each of the marks means. Shaman, yes, but more beyond that. Warrior, defender, healer, savior of many. So many. But she doesn't remark on it right away.
"Would you like to join this one in offering?" she asks. "It is merely the act of saying words, offering praise and our good thoughts, and then letting the offering be taken by the waves. Anyone can do this--it pleases the spirits to know simply that they are thought of. Many make requests with offerings--but it is nice for the spirits to receive offerings without something asked for."
She gives him a rather toothy smile as she rises back up to her full height. "Or we can ask for fortune in catching a good fish."
Immediately the blue-scale rouses himself, getting slowly and carefully to his feet and giving his body a little shake. Most of the sand slips away, but he'll need to wipe himself down or go into the water if he wants to be free of it entirely. Still, he doesn't seem to mind. "Thisss one would be pleasssed to offer ssspiritsss of wind and ssea praissse and good thoughtssss. They are dessserving, and thisss one knowssss asss you do, how rarely thosse that work hard get the ssimple pleasssure of gratitude over requessst."
He swishes his tail again. "Thisss one will not even asssk for fisssh. If thiss one iss given one, thisss iss good, but thisss one will not asssk for it." He motions with his hand for her to lead by example.
Another happy rumble leaves Cuemoni as Zeke consents to the offering with her. Her tail wiggles slightly in obvious excitement, a thing that she cannot hide--nor would she. "It has been quite some time since this one has been able to offer to the spirits with another," she says. "This one's former teacher is ill and can do it no longer--and she resides in Am'shere with everyone else."
She reaches down into her belt and produces some small pebbles. "This one collected these further up by the shore," she explains. "This one does not like to leave offerings of things that do not belong in the waves. But things that the waves touch, but never fully grasp--this one likes to offer those."
Cuemoni gives half of the stones in her clawed hand to Zeke. Then she steps out closer to the waves, until they are lapping gently at her feet, her claws sinking ever-slightly with each pass of the gentle waves into the sand below. She doesn't mind. It's the land's way of reminding her that it's here too.
"Spirits of wind and wave, this one brings you a gift of the land as offering in gratitude and praise," she speaks aloud into the sea breeze. Her hand outstretched for the spirits of wind first to see the pebbles and take from them what they will. "This one is happy to be here in your presence and to walk here. This one hopes for a good bond."
Then, she leans down into the water and lets her pebbles sink. Some of them will come back immediately to shore, but the others will be taken into the waves.
Gratefully, Zeke accepts the stones from Cuemoni with his flesh-and-blood claw. He looks at them for a moment and then nods. It seems appropriate to offer to the water that which it wants, but lies just out of reach, and that which is also natural to it. Something that will not harm that which lives within it nor it itself. He follows her to the edge of the water, his own weight making him sink just a little more in the sand than she does. Just a little.
He waits for her to make her offering before he closes his own eyes, thinking this time of not the sun which is an easy connection for him, but of the wind; the water. "Sssa. Ssspirtsss, thisss one would alssso like to make a gift to you. An offering of gratitude and praisse for all that you have given to thisss one and sso many othersss."
Like her he holds out his claw with the claw, feeling the breeze tickle his claw and then opens his eyes so that he can carefully release the pebbles into the ocean. "Thisss one isss happy to be here in your presscense and to walk here. Thisss one hopesss for a good bond."
Cuemoni watches approvingly as Zeke makes his offering. There's an unquestionable joy in her gaze when he releases the pebbles into the ocean. For a long moment, she just enjoys this. Enjoys the feeling of serenity, the lapping of waves at the sand around her ankles and his, the feeling of two children of the Blood standing together.
"This is not so different than what you do for the Dragonfather, is it not?" she asks after a long moment. "This one would think one devoted to Him makes his own prayers and offerings. He has gifted you the ability to save many." An acknowledgement then of what she has learned from his markings.
Zeke is also enjoying the moment. The feeling of connection to the water and wind. To the sun and the land. As well as the connection to Cuemoni. Her question amuses him clearly and he nods once. "Yessss. Thissss isss very sssimilar. Thisss one ssharess tea with the Dragonfather every morning. Thisss one makesss sssmall offeringsss from mealsss. Thingsss that thisss one findss that may be pleasssing to Hisss eye. He hass granted me many giftsss for thessse sssmall devotions... but being able to help otherss isss the greatesst gift... Although the gift of thessse limbsss isss nearly ssso."
One claw lifts to his chest, his flesh-and-blood one, and he seems to realize belatedly that he is not wearing the clothes that he usually would be. "Ahhh. Thisss one apologizesss. Thisss one wassss... basssking in the light of the Dragonfather."
Modesty is not a normal sith-makar thing. Not in most tribes, but Zeke displays it now.
To see modesty in Zeke confuses Cuemoni. There's a glint of it in her golden eyes, a bit of it in her smell even though the sea breeze makes such things harder to scent. "This one does not understand why you apologize," she replies gently. "It is good to warm the body in the warm times." For more than one reason that she does not have to tell a healer, one many times over her own measure at healing.
She quirks her head to one side. "This one hopes you do not feel shame over your body. It is a good body. It belongs to a friend and a good person. It has mighty scales that protect him, a good color like the deep of the waves." Here she gestures with her claws out to the sea, in the horizon where the waters darken in color. "This one also believes the limbs a gift, a beautiful one from the Dragonfather. A sign of the relationship you have with him. It is good."
Zeke ducks his head slightly, but his tail moves low and slow in pleasure, happiness. "Thisss one... Hasss been made aware that ssome do not find pleasssure in the sssight of thisss one. Ssso thisss one triess not to draw attention." He places his hand on his chest and offers a low bow of his head to Cuemoni. "Thisss one iss pleassed that it isss not ssome-thing that you find unsssightly."
The strange blue-scale glances back to where he had been laying in the sand and then toward the water. "Would you care to join thisss one in fissshing?" It's a tentative offer.
Cuemoni rumbles in her chest. "Ay," she says, in the way she does when she's exasperated or put out by something. "The words of others who do not know good when they see it. This one believes those who have said that of you are fools, Shaman. You are as you are. Perfect at being you."
Her tail flicks again in excitement, however. "This one would love to fish with you. Especially in the traditional way. This one has seen the softskins with their poles. It is amusing to watch them fall asleep and see the fish get away before they're even aware."
But before she goes further into the waves, she steps back out and begins to disrobe, herself. It reveals that there are more of the red symbols, painted all over the front of her body where she can reach. There are none on her back. She has a sturdy form, something that can withstand a bit of damage sent her way, a strength and grace to her movements. The hide armor gets tucked away somewhere that the waves won't lap at it while they're gone. "This one is ready," she says.
Zeke smells faintly embarrassed by her words, though the river-water makes the scent so subtle that it could easily be ignored. This is not the first time he has been reminded that the words of others should be dismissed more easily. But... A flicker of sorrow passes through him and he brushes it aside.
He waits for her, then heads into the water slowly. Taking each step with care until he can swim in the water. Then, without his armor to weigh him down, he becomes a graceful thing. No trace of the hesitation in movement that affects him on land is displayed here and now.
His tail lashes in excitement as he looks about for the fish that he knows call this area home. This then, is a joy. One worthy of more than the pebbles he had offered, but he of all people knows that the gods and spirits don't want much. Only a seat in the heart, and acknowledgment.
How strangely like people.
They swim together. Going to find a fish, something to feed them both. It's not long before they both find one each, able to catch them both. Over a shared meal of their two fish, Cuemoni regards Zeke with her golden eyes, sitting again in that pose that might hurt her legs if she stays there for too long. Her tail flicks in happiness.
"This one is happy to share this moment with you," she says. "It is always a good day when this one can spend time with you." Because he is good, and she wants him to know that. Wants him to know that a man who wears the marks of all he has saved cannot possibly be bad, wants him to know that the Dragonfather would not bless someone so who is bad. But she knows it is easier sometimes to let the spirits talk for her.
For the wind and the wave, they exist in the Dragonfather's light, too. They are kind to Zeke. The wind doesn't take away his meal and the waves brought him the fish to begin with.
She basks in the Dragonfather's light with him after that. She has nowhere else to be today, and even if she did, to happen across Zeke like so, to feel connected with him like so--she might have just pushed anything off to the side otherwise. With a wry thought, it occurs to her that the spirits, perhaps, in their own way, brought this meeting about.
There is the cusp of a realization of her heart then. Something that she will only know later when she returns to her dwelling. Something that she will know the name for later upon further reflection. There is something she feels for Zeke.
It makes her nervous.