Iluiyotl iuixochimeh
Log Info
- Title: Iluiyotl iuixochimeh
- Organizer: Harkashan
- Place: Akochilistli Kuauhtla, Am'shere
A few hours by Swiftclaw away from the Portal, around and within the local Am'shere community of Akochilistli Kuauhtla, there is life and festivities in the air. The jungle forest normally loud with animal sound, thunderlizard roars, and a cacophany of birds, is being outdone by loud drums and rapt reptile celebration.
Many Sith-makar have lined up within the main pathway leading up to the Ziggurat central to this place. There's whole groups of them settled together on the lava-vent heated stones that riddle so much of this community, enjoying more warmth within the heat. Where-as less bronzed Sith-makar are enjoying the sun-warmed roofs and tents lining the place.
The smell of intense spices and baked goods is in the air everywhere. Houses are being used as small little shops to attract merchants from outside of town, as well as trading with Sith-makar who have traveled from miles away. The smell of cinnamon and tall fried dough is available in one pocket of the street, while in another pocket there's a large rack of spiced corn covered with a white creamy sauce, lime, cheese and spicy red powder.
Walking around isn't impossible. But there are enough bodies around that it's important to look down and try and not step on tails. The occassional tail-touch by Sith-makar and forward friendliness is notable, that could be a bit harder to deal with for those who shy physical contact and larger groups.
There's a group of Prowling Dragon Shamans on the roofs right now, using ritualistic illusion spells to make petals of flowers drift down from the skies. Larger shops all are celebrating the Flower Festival by placing Euakaxitl - large wooden 'plaques' covered in flowers - against the sides of their buildings: their patterns beautiful and often depicting dragons or other culturally important emblems through immaculate arrangement of flowers, bones, and cups of spices.
Right now, everyone is waiting for the Parade, meaning that the 'center' of the main road is being cleared out. A few warriors patroling the area to make sure groups don't get in the way of what comes next. Keepers and Speakers are on corners of the streets, on slightly raised pedestals, explaining the history and importance of this celebration to outsiders. Notably, there are also Shamans moving around, doing random checks on peoples' health for some reason, but they are being subtle about it.
Welcome to Akochilistli Kuauhtla, celebrating Iluiyotl iuixochimeh - the Flower Festival. Music, the smell of food, and flowers are in the air.
Seyardu was a bit embarrassed to admit that she had never actually been to Iluiyotl iuixochimeh. She had heard of the festival, but for various reasons never actually found herself going to it.
Still, when Sjach invited her to go, it caused the cleric to reconsider. The smaller silverscale had found a seat off the edge of one of a large stone to see over the crowd, where they were chewing thoughtfully on a long stick of pastry, letting their tail sway behind them. Seyardu had little more than a medium length leather skirt on, decorated with a pattern of vines and flowers punched into the material. and a carved bone scrimshaw on a necklace around their neck, with their silver scales polished to a mirror sheen.
Still, they didn't look completely at ease. There was a glance to a rather large black scaled makari who was at one of the nearby buildings, this one still armed and armored.
It was not a familiar feeling to be surrounded by so many of his Kin - but celebrations and parades? Aelwyn was nothing but familiar with them. His quietly smouldering glaive was held high - and only thing visible of the short makari - as he meandered and occasionally stepped through the crowd, sharp teeth glinting with the excitement of the crowd. Occasionally, he'd brush those tails just to share a word with an interesting looking sith.
The ruddy Dragoon was wearing half of a toga; embroidered with yellow flowers, it had a simple repeating pattern to it; but the silk flowed down one side, leaving the other exposed to the elements. The garb was held down by few thin leather straps, holding up his bronze shoulder pad. Beyond that - flowers. Yellow and red flowers, of course. His mane of quills had several of them pinned in a cascading fashion.
"Tch, this one would enjoy watching that tail thump in time," Aelwyn rumbles to one of the makari, before he spins about. "In the light of the night." He gives a grim looking grin, before spinning around and brushing through a group of makari, not at all hindered by the conversation he briefly interrupted.
Cuemoni, Shaman of the Xiuhcoatl tribe, is here with all the marks of her people painted in red on her scales. The turquoise-scale has found a quieter pocket of Akochilistli Kuauhtla where she and the blue-scaled companion by her side, wearing red symbols that match Cuemoni's on his head-scales, are able to watch the Parade when it happens.
"This one will not let anything happen to you, Zeke," Cuemoni rumbles. And then her golden eyes latch onto the illusory flower petals that drift down. "Perhaps we may be able to go to the shops. Not for food, but for craftsmanship. Spices that cannot be found back in the softskin city. Things of that nature."
She offers a claw to Zeke for him to take, her golden eyes darting over to him. Her tail wiggles a little in anticipation.
Among the many colorful Sith-Makar bodies, there are a few soft-skins who seem to have made their way here as well. Some may be individuals curious about the Sith culture, looking distinctly foreign in their Alexandrian attire.
Rune, on the other hand, is dressed as if festivities like these are second nature to her. She has a simple halter-top and loincloth which are decorated with flowers on the shoulders and hip. A few smokey gray scales are visible on her thighs, arms neck, likely the effect of some sort of magic. The full length of her tattoo is on display sa well, extending from her cheek, across her torso, and down to her thigh. Colorful blumes are tied into her her hair, which is a distinctly different shade of white at the tips.
At the moment, the half-sil seems to be digging into one of the fried dough pastries, obviously enjoying herself.
Zeke, the blue-scale sith-makar known for his healing talents alongside his unique crystalline arm and leg, is present for once not in a healing capacity. Instead he is here to enjoy the festival more than anything. It has in fact been quite some time since he attended such, and... if he is totally honest, it is a lot more than he remembers it being. More people, more scents, more people.
Everyone is excited, and his space has been correspondingly taken up. It should have been easy to get caught up in the joy of the moment, but Zeke finds himself uncomfortable with the level of closeness that he finds himself encompassed by.
This is made more by the fact that Zeke has dressed for the occasion. The male has dispensed with his usual clerical robes in favor of a more traditional outfit. This consists then of a heavy-looking beaded black and white skirt and a small mantle of similar color which falls just shy of his chest. The outfit bares Zeke's ritualistic scaring which is mostly on his chest to the other sith. It also reveals a number of other less ritualistic scars on his body. Tell-tail signs of a life lived. And of course his crystalline limbs. He also bears a few red marks on his face, thanks to the female at his side.
Zeke looks at Cuemoni uncertainly then nods and takes her claw in his own. "Sssa. Ssspicessses would be good. Thisss one could ussse sssome for the cooking." He is clearly nervous, and not particularly looking forward to going into the thrum of other sith-makar.
Harkashan too is in attendance. Flowers adorn his horns and the many chains hanging between them. He's left behind his heavier armor and instead wears... well... very little in the way of anything. Instead, he's adorned by intricate flower patterns drawn in pure white on his scales. There's some polite cloth drawn around his waist, but that's as far as clothing go for him at the moment, along with a tailbag with a bunch of flowers attached to them as well. Nothing is really left to the imagination.
He's walking with Rune, watching the wealth of his people in attendance. He'd never attended this particular celebration himself yet, much like Seyardu. And he feels a bit guilty for never having gone, even when he was stationed so close to the Portal in the much later years of his life in Am'shere.
"Hrrm, I think I recognize that one." He rumbles, as he motions towards Seyardu standing in her taller place, and moves to approach, passing by Aelwyn. Making momentary eye-contact, he smiles and touches tails to the small one, while continueing to move and then leaning on the large stone Seyardu has gotten herself situated on. "Peace upon your nest, Shaman."
If Seyardu had reservations about attending, Sjach's own were doubled- he had not returned to Am'shere since crossing the portal a couple of summers past, and his memories in the years previous to his departure were not of the warmth of community. But still, some impulse had driven him to make the suggestion, and he couldn't very well leave Seyardu alone after coaxing her to come.
He pads his way through the crowd, wearing a breachclout of tanned leather decorated with bones, fangs, feathers and shells. Sharp eyes peeled as he scans around, looking through the crowd. Little Flame is with here, somewhere, if no longer so little, but the adolescent swiftclaw is too unruly for the festival grounds proper, and has taken to the surrounding wild spaces to do some hunting- her energy uncontainable upon encountering the familiar scents of home.
Sjach does as best as he can to stay to the fringes of the crowd, clearly more accustomed to the sparser communities of hunting lodges and Mictlan than the throngs of the festival. He carries morsels of food in each hand, and just when it seems the press of the crowd threatens to consume him, he spies a ray of light amongst the press of bodies.
The spines running the length of him stand on end in a moment of recognition, and he braves the throng to slip through towards the seated Seyardu. "Sihaa. Have you waited long?" he asks when he's near enough, offering over one of the grilled corn cobs.
"The people will disperse more evenly when the parade is done," Cuemoni says gently to Zeke. "This one will take great care to find us a quieter place when the Parade is done. This one does not over-much like so many in one place, too--but if it is too much for you, please tell this one? So that this one can help find a way out to the quiet." Or, well, more quiet. If possible.
The wildfire druid, after all, knows that it's easier to build a great fire when you have many sticks close together. She rumbles softly. "This one will want to buy a flower wreath to wear if possible," she says. "Two of them if you will match this one. The flowers this one sees are beautiful. The red matches the painted symbols."
She gives sort of a pleased rumble as she looks to Zeke. "This one thinks you would look handsome with flowers." It's a playfully said thing.
There's a craning of heads and a cheer when some people spot a few Swiftclaws appear well down the edge of the 'main' path. A few Sith-makar moving to the front, clearing up room towards the shops.
Zeke and Cuemoni would have easier access for at least just a moment, to the stalls that are set out along the streets. Many of the spices are pre-powdered for this event, allowing for easier sales and a more colorful spread in particularly intricate patterns of pottery and bonework. But the non-powdered variety is also available to them. A particularly pure white Sith-makar with red eyes is heading one of the nearby stalls.
Finding someone selling flower wreaths is incredibly easy during the Flower Festival. In fact, there are some Sith-makar who are handing them out for free - though they are less colorful than the ones being sold at the various open shops.
Notably, it also opens up another stall that had been so heavily filled with throngs of Sith-makar that it's only now visible. They're making small 'patties' of maize, about the size of one's hand. They're cooking them and pressing them hard to a hotstone, and breathing their fiery dragon's breath beneath it at times to raise the temperature. Then pressing their hand on the dough to create a shallow pocket, filling it with pineapple, cheese, and just the smallest drizzle of white cream and an spicy cream, before handing more out.
The Swiftclaws, visible far down the street, are too far to get a good look at. But their slowed down movement is in part because of the massive 50+ kilos wooden palettes they carry. Each ridden by rider - together, the Euakaxitlakatl - a carrier of Euakaxitl. The ever important mode of transporting goods between various villages and communities in Am'shere.
What can be seen even at this distance, is that the Swiftclaws have beautiful bold colors on their scales. Each painted. Roaring at a distance as they walk their precious cargo towards the Ziggurat.
It was easy to get lost in the sea of bodies, flowers and fragrances - especially the spicy food - and there was a certain thrill in just letting the flow of people guide one along.
It might also be the case there was little other choice, being barely able to see past backs.
Which is why Aelwyn spins around, surprised when his tail gets touched at. A wide flash of his teeth spreads on his snout as he sees Harkashan pass him by. Sidling in after the flow, he lets the taller lava-scaled makari go and introduce himself to Seyardu - he instead sneaks up on Rune. "Both Twin and Lava are looking deliciously flowery," He rumbles in amusement, "Like a bouquet."
The other makari receive a respectful bow from the ruddy sith-makar, and a 'Nest of peace', in turn
GAME: Seyardu rolls perception: (8)+8: 16
The silver cleric took their gaze off of the black scaled hunter nearby, returning to enjoying their food and looking out at the sights and sounds. There's a surprised look, and a wave to Zeke, and another look around, a wave to Aelwyn before she sees Harkashan and Rune nearby. "Ah, shaman Harkashan and hunter Rune, or is it warrior? This one is unsure, but happy to see you both regardless." She greets. At first glance, much of her side was painted, but it was not actually, rather the green vines and blue flowers were a part of the scales themselves, creeping up the arm and onto their chest.
The cleric pauses, and noticeably sniffs at the air, turning around suddenly and hopping off the stone they were on. She is quick to take the hunter into a hug, rumbling happily. "Not too long at all, Sjach." She replies, turning back to the others and beaming after taking some of the corn. "And whatever time will always be worth the wait."
Zeke ducks his head, appreciating greatly Cuemoni's concern. He seems actually to take some strength from the fact that she is willing to go through such effort for him. The blue-scale lets her lead the way toward the flower vendors, though he is sure that they do not infringe upon the parade-space. He lets a low rumble of amusement pass through him and looks at Cuemoni with a trace of that infectious joy on his features. "Flowersss would be mossst appropriate."
Given the festival and the fact that his beaded 'skirt' and mantle are representative of the balance between life and death. "Thisss one would like to buy one for you." This is offered a bit bashfully on the part of the blue-scale. Zeke it seems is not terribly familiar with the art of being social. "Thisss one isss well enough for now."
Zeke is unwilling to seek out the less populated areas just yet. He wants to enjoy the festivities with Cuemoni as much as he is allowed.
Sjach holds the corn out and away at the hug, lest he accidentally smear sauce on her silver scales, but leans in for the hug all the same, his tail curling around to touch against hers given his hands aren;t able to properly reciprocate at the moment. After that, he glances up towards the other two nearby. "Peace on your nessts." he offers them both, along with a dip of his head in greeting. He stands close to Seyardu, now, "It is very busy." he observes as he looks around. "Thiss one... did not remember it being so busy. But, it was a long time ago. And his village was smaller." he muses.
The arrival of the swiftclaw procession draws his attention for a moment- though too far away for him to see clearly, he cranes his neck to look that way a moment, before turning back to his nearer companions,
There are many familiar faces among the gathered Sith-Makar, and many who Rune would also find unfamiliar. After the many trials facing Am'shere as of late, it is good that there is celebration.
"I am of the warrior caste, earned in battle against the Charneth." There is no offense at the mistake, however. Her smaller stature does lend more towards the role of a hunter. "It is good to see you again. Has there been any progress with the earlier discussions around Mictlan?" She asks, as that was the last time she had spoken to the Shaman in question.
Then, there is the a sneaking Aelwyn which causes Rune's ear to twitch, canting her head in his direction. "Well, it suits the occassion, right?" She raises a brow. "Though, I'll admit I do have a bit of an alterior motive. I need to gather some flowers for dye so this is not only a chance to celebrate with the Makari, but also to get some blue petals on the cheap."
Leave it to a rogue to be thinking about money. Then again, she seems to be thinking more about the pastry she is eating as she takes another bite of it.
Harkashan smiles down towards Aelwyn as he joins up with him, Rune, Seyardu and Sjach. "Like a bouquet?" He rumbles pleasantly, and bemusedly.
He then bows his head to Seyardu once more, touching his chest, while taking note of the intricate vine and flower work within her scales. He lets out an impressed chuff of a sound, before looking aside towards someone he does not yet know.
Sjach is notably quite tall, so he looks up just a bit before repeating; "Peace upon your nest." While he's being hugged by Seyardu. Then, touching his chest, he introduces himself; "Deathsinger Harkashan." Believing it polite to do so.
He then looks down at Rune for a moment and smiles as she introduces her Caste. He can't help but let his eyes wander to those unique scale patterns drawn upon her by magic. They make her look ever so interesting.
Then back to Sjach; "The celebration originated from here, I am lead to understand by the Keepers. So I believe that's why it's so big here." He offers.
Cuemoni's golden eyes nictate when Zeke offers to buy for her. It's her own turn to look bashful, her head ducking a little as her tail wiggles happily. "This one would be so happy to receive your kind gesture and gift," she replies. "The stalls here have so many things to offer. So many spices and beautiful flowers. It is a marvel."
Her golden eyes flicker about for a moment longer before she spots flower wreaths of perfect arrangement: blue and crimson. The blue is somewhere between her turquoise scales and Zeke's darker blue, and it clearly pleases her. "Zeke? Do you see these?" She points with an almost zealous excitement, a sort that's rarely ever seen on the more reserved druid--even if she is one of wildfire. "The blue is like ours!"
Aelwyn looks up at the very, very tall Makari - why do they grow so tall here? - and bows his head towards Sjach. "Tall," He greets.
Returning his attention to Harkashan and Rune, the Dragoon flicks his tail and leans onto his glaive. "Like a bouquet," He gestures, "Wrapped and twined together, would be like a explosion of flowers." He flicks his tail and touches the other's ankles. "This one finds the look very delectable." Tongue flickers out. "And this one thinks Lava should shed the burden of his armor more often."
The talk of the blue petals makes Aelwyn tilt his head back towards her. "Blue petals can be worth many coins in the right market," The draconian agrees, "But has she not become more Makari?" He eyes her up and down, trailing orange eyes on those scales. "A very pleasant look for her."
Then the Dragoon's attention is drawn to the swiftclaws and he tilts his hips towards the side, the sight making him sway his tail.
It is clear that Cuemoni's happiness pleases Zeke. His own tail swishing back and forth in a pleased but also reserved manner - one must be careful of knocking other's shins in happiness after all. Carefully he makes his way toward the stall that holds the flowers that Cuemoni has found pleasing to the eye and nods in agreement. He is pleased himself to note that the flowers are a color that is somewhat between the color of their scales and mixed with crimson not unlike that of the paint that Cuemoni used on her and his own self.
Green eyes peer at the flowers and he nods again, offering the stall owner some coins for the flowers. "Thisss one would like to purchassse thessse flowersss." He says in a low rumble.
Seyardu takes a bite of of the corn- quite literally, as the top quarter of cob is suddenly missing. "It has been some time since this one had roasted corn like this, it is still a wonder it is not so popular in Alexandria." The cleric chuckles. "Ah! There is a swiftclaw parade coming, yes? This one is looking forward to that quite a lot."
Back to the cleric, rogue and dragoon, the smaller makari nods. "Ah! Very well, warrior Rune. This one with me is Sjach, their cihuaa." They rumble happily, giving the hunter next to her another glance and bump of their tail. "This one's village was small, too small for such celebrations." She admits, with a shake of her head. "And when this one heard of it, all they thought about was the colors of flowers they could not see, not the sounds and smells and patterns they all make." They admit. "You will have to describe all the patterns woven into the flowers for me , Sjach, so I might enjoy them with you."
"Ssshe has a good eye for color." The merchant hisses pleasantly when Cuemoni spots the flower wreath, and uses their tail to lift it up towards her. Letting out a croon as they then reaches for a spot behind the stone they sit on, and lift up another wreath with very similar colors. "Could go for a pairrrr sssso you are matching."
At Zeke's prompting for purchase, they're given both a cost in silver, as well as being offered trade of goods if they prefer. Which would mean haggling of course.
The parade begins to get closer. Sith-makar hissing and roaring in excitement. Tails wagging and getting tangled here and there as the Swiftclaw parade finally gets closer.
Beautiful blues and whites and yellows and reds and purples. All the colors one could dye, they are present. Their bodies depicting dragons in flight made by skilled artisans, or the colors of various tribes. Rune might even spot one carrying the colors of the Wuja Docar tribe, ridden by a strong backed silver-and-black Sith-makar she might have seen before.
There's a few Swiftclaws that are more boldly colored than any others, which are not carrying Euakaxitl. Those listening to the Speakers nearby might come to understand that these are former Euakaxitlakatl who have retired as of this year, but are still to be celebrated for all of the duty they have done. And though their riders may still be young, those Swiftclaws are clearly of the older and weaker variety. No longer able to carry the heavy burdens, yet revered all the same.
Happily bedecked in a flower wreath once the cost is paid for, Cuemoni seems so pleasantly joyed with the fact that she and Zeke are wearing matching flowers. The near-constant warm hum in her chest and the happy wag of her tail prove it.
"The Swiftclaws are approaching!" she informs Zeke, her claw finding his again. "Do you wish to get closer, or stay here? This one is okay with either one. This one is simply enjoying getting to spend time with you, Zeke." Her golden eyes are practically sparkling with joy at this point. Her words are the truth of her feelings.
"Exactly. And I'd rather gather those discarded than have to spend out of my own pocket." The rogue offers a wink at that, looking around at the array of colorful flowers both worn and dangled upon various decorations. "As for the scales... it's a bit of an enchantment, courtosy of this." She lifts a small pendant at her throat, which seems to have the same smokey scales imbeded into it.
She leans in a bit, nudging Aelwyn's shoulder with her own. "It's good to see you enjoying the festivities. I havent' been to one of these festivals in well over a year." Not since the last time she had dwelled long-term in Am'shere."
At the introduction from Seyardu, Rune inclines her head briefly, then lifts it up, up, up to take in Sjach, "Then it is a pleasure to meet you. I'm Rune, Shaman Harkashan's Cihuaa." She motions to the lava-scaled Makari beside her.
"Sjach." the borzoi proportioned Sith-makar repeats after Seyardu- notably, no caste is given, which is unusual for Sith-makar introductions. But then, he seems a sith of few words in general. He dips his head to Seyardu, "Thiss one will do his best to paint them with his words." he tells Seyardu then.
As the procession is still to far to see well for the time being, anyway, his attention remains on those near him as introductions are passed around. He seems surprised a moment at Rune's introduction, or perhaps it is her use of the term, surprised but by no means upset. He simply dips his head once more to her, as he does with each of the introductions.
In response to Rune, he says, "It has been... sshhhaaa... perhapss thirty summers for this one." he admits as he glances around. "But as thiss one said, his village was smaller. We had no zigurrat. But some of us visited a nearby village, smaller than this place certainly, but larger than home." he says. His spines settle flat, and there's an element of wistfulness to his tone that even those less accustomed to the nuances of Sith-makar expression would be likely to note.
Zeke pays in silver for the pair of flower wreathes. He has no desire or interest in haggling - however much others seem to enjoy the occupation. He tangles the flowers about his black horns, making a makeshift crown upon his head and allowing him to scent the flowers easily. They have a pleasant smell.
But the siftclaws are approaching! He can't help the little swell of excitement that builds in him and he moves a half-step forward. "Sssa." He considers Cuemoni's question. "If you can sssee, then we ssshould ssstay here."
The truth is that he thinks personally that the hatchlings deserve their place in the front more than any other, and he has no wish to fight those that have not seen such a spectacle for their places when he has seen it before. Realizing he hasn't asked he turns toward Cuemoni. "Have you sseen the parade before?"
The question that Zeke asks causes Cuemoni to look thoughtful for a moment. "This one has been to celebrations of this festival before," Cuemoni replies. "But the parade is exciting every time. It is not celebrated in my tribe--so I have only seen it from traveling in Am'shere."
She gives him another happy wag of the tail. "This one can see from here. If it is more comfortable for you to stay here, this one would prefer to stay also. There are other sights worth watching, too, besides the parade."
Her voice is wry on that last one, golden eyes twinkling as she looks meaningfully at Zeke. "Such as the vision of this one's companion merry by the sights."
Harkashan lets out a pleasant croon at the explaination of Seyardu's relationship to Sjach. Bowing his head once more. "I believe the Alexandrians may need a 'Sith-makar quarter' in Alexandros to introduce our foods to them." He bids to Seyardu as an idea.
He then tilts his head a bit, taking note of Seyardu mentioning not being able to see the colors of flowers. But he's distracted by Aelwyn - touching his ankles. So, his tail touches his back. "Hmm, I have worn my armor for so many decades, it is strange to be without it sometimes." He explains to Aelwyn, before looking down to Rune.
As she mentions that word, his tail wraps around the bottom of her legs and he leans down to press the side of his muzzle against the side of her face. A show of affection. He can't exactly gnaw her horns, since she bears none. So this will have to do! He notices Sjach's surprise - much as he did with the lack of Caste in introduction - but he doesn't comment on it. That, and he's used to the latter, what with Aelwyn not doing so for instance. Either way, he rises back up with confidence on his expression.
"I believe the Swiftclaws are here." He them rumbles, hearing the speakers talk of them. And noticing them, he leans down... and grabs Rune by the hips - placing himself in front of her first - and lifts her up onto his shoulders. Careful to maneuver his head down so he doesn't prod her with his horns. Giving her a taller spot to look at the parade from.
"Ah! Yes! This one apologizes, Rune." The small cleric speaks up suddenly with a shake of her head, and another glance to a nearby large makari that seemed to have their attention again for a moment. "Work has not begun, this one still needs to speak to the Alexandria councils to discuss their proposition. This one was also hoping to speak to botanists here, and see if stone could be sourced locally." She answers.
"This one appreciates it, Sjach." She rumbles happily, but further statements make her pause, and the silverscale holds him close with one arm. "This one hopes you will still find it enjoyable." Seyardu states softly. "The swiftclaws are coming, yes?" Seyardu considers, chuckling a bit as Rune is lifted onto Harkashan's shoulders. "This one was about to suggest the same, if you would not mind, Sjach?"
"Tch, perhaps this one should get into business with her, with those keen eyes of hers. Then again, merchants seem to attract all the trouble." Aelwyn rumbles, flashing his teeth at her. When his shoulder is bumped, he responds in kind by giving her calves a light slap from his tail.
"Ah, festivities... something this one has not seen enough in the city. It is good," The draconian lets out, then inhales, expanding his chest and he lifts up his hand, "To feel excitement in the air!" He lets out a long breath afterwards. He tilts his head then towards the elf. "Troupe's arrival was always was a cause of celebration."
The Dragoon was trying to up to his tiptoes to see all the colored swiftclaws; his rapidly moving tail could not hide his excitement too well. "They really do look like dragons." He lets out a tut as Rune gets the best seat; so instead he moves to bump his hips against Harkashan's. "Careful with the blue petal, Lava."
Then the small sith-makar is off to find a back to half lean, half climb against.
Zeke draws Cuemoni a little bit closer. "Thisss one did not know thisss oness tribe, but wass welcomed by many later. You are right, the parade... the fessstival, isss alwaysss unique every time. Thisss one isss pleasssed to ssshare thisss one with you." He seems made shy by her comment about watching him be merry and yet he ducks his head toward her. "Sssa. To sssee you pleasssed isss pleasssure."
He holds her hand gently and yet with a little strength so that they can not be parted as the swiftclaws grow closer and closer. It is nice to have something like this to share with her. It is nice... to have something like this to take joy in. Too often does he forget joy.
Many more colors follow. Swiftclaw after Swiftclaw passing through at a stable but plodding pace. There's some traditional Euakaxitlakatl that follow in between some of the Swiftclaws. Strong and sturdy Sith-makar of various colors carrying single Euakaxitl on their backs, hands on the straps, backs slightly belt to distribute the weight, their tails lifted but close to the ground for balance. Bold, grinning. As much as the Swiftclaws help carry them, there is always a need for the manual labor to go the last bit of distance, or get them up where a Swiftclaw may not be able to reach so easily.
There's more patterns abound. Ones showing the Prowling Dragon are more common now. There's a few slender Sith-makar wielding spears and blades that are dancing and 'patrolling' at the sides of some of the Swiftclaws. Using colorful paints on their blades to make their blade twirls look like blooming flowers! Euakaxitlakatl do not travel alone in the dangerous jungle of Am'shere. And their Warrior guards are also celebrated.
Some of them use special techniques to send pearls of water into the air they cut or whirlwind with their blades, creating sprays of rainbow beneath the bold Am'shere sun! A mesmerizing display that no doubt might make someone like Aelwyn yearn for days of old.
A Shaman ends up approaching the area near Cuemoni and Zeke for a moment. Bowing to a small group of Sith-makar from outside first; "Peace upon your nests." Before talking to them for a bit, and casting Detect Disease on them, before smiling and thanking them for their time, and proceeding onwards.
Soon, there's a larger set of Swiftclaws in a row, walking in a more intricate pattern. Using multiple palettes of flowers that, when viewed straight on, show the long body of the Prowling Dragon moving through the jungle. Taller Sith-makar holding up logs with flowers, in front and behind the Swiftclaws, making it seem like the Prowling Dragon is 'prowling' through the Jungles of Am'shere, amidst many colorful flowers. This display gets a particular amount of celebration from people. With some hatchlings quickly having to be secured by elder Sith-makar before they can run into the streets due to their excitement at all the colors and movement.
Sjach turns and flashes his teeth at Seyardu, "How could this one not enjoy themself, with you at hiss side." he retorts. At the suggestion he lift her up, he nods, momentarily rueful that someone else had the idea first. He turns and drops to a knee, so that Seyardu can climb atop his less broad shoulders. When she is so positioned, one of his hands comes up to hold her steady and he rises up to grant her a commanding view over the heads of the crowd. His tail swishes back and forth absently behind him.
"Is it the greenhouse you two speak of?" He asks rune and Seyardu, then, his eye swivelling to look over towards the woman on Harkashan's shoulders. "Thiss one... has mixed sentimentss about that. Bringing some of Am'shere to Alexandria is good but... all things in nature have their place. This one mislikes how the peoples of the city bend the animals and the plants to suit. To be soft bodied and without cunning." he explains.
But then the swiftclaws are coming, and his attention goes to them. "This one has the color of mangrove waters and embers. Is its pattern clear to you? Like creeping vines." he speaks up to Seyardu, "This one can try to get closer, if you wish." he adds a moment later- although moving closer means pressing through the crowd again, and the tip of his tail flicks in mild agitation at the thought.
Cuemoni's warm to the touch, and she rumbles happily as she's drawn a little closer to her companion. "This one wishes you to know that this one feels the same way," she says, a little more quietly--something she can get away with since she's closer to Zeke now. "This one is happy to see you happy."
Then the swiftclaws come, and Cuemoni's obviously enthralled, her tail wiggling in such excitement that, at one point, it swings a little too widely. Her tail ends up around Zeke's in a bit of a tangle, and Cuemoni's eye nictate.
"Ah! Th-this one apologizes!" She's bashful now, pulling her tail away. "This one didn't mean to touch without permission!"
The nuzzle against her cheek is met warmly as Rune leans into it, her hand reaching up to lightly scratch at lava-colored scales. Then, her eyes turn to Seyardu as she nods her head, "If there's anything we can help with, please let us know. I don't exactly have any 'pull', but I do know of at least one Makari who could help with gathering lumber or other supplies." She's likely speaking of Skielstregar.
There is a momentary squeak of sound from Rune as she is hefted up onto Harkashan's shoulders, giving her a better vantage point to be able to see over the far taller Makari. She balances herself a little with one hand, placing it against one of his horns carefully. "The view is definitely better from up here."
She looks down to Aelwyn then, offering a slightly sheepish expression. She knows very well just how much trouble he may be having seeing over the shoulders of giants. However, she is soon caught up by the wonder of the sight before her, eyes enchanted by the swiftclaws and their display.
That is, until Sjach speaks and Rune looks towards him. "I don't think there is any intention of trying to bring the creatures of Am'shere into Alexandros. In fact, we've fought back against that more often than not." She explains with a shake of her head, "It was only a suggestion of a way of helping those who now call Mictlan their home, to retain parts of their culture. If that idea is not well received, so be it. There were plenty of others offered up."
"The rock is warm, Aelwyn, and you will get an excellent view from up there." Seyardu suggests to the dragoon before she is suddenly lifted up. Seyardu settles onto the hunter's shoulders with a happy, if subdued, swish of her tail, so as to not throw things off balance.
It sounds beautiful Sjach, this one can see some of the patterns contrasting like you say." The cleric rumbles happily. The looks down, and runs one hand down the various spines with a shake of her head, and a happy smile. "This is a good spot, especially since you are more comfortable at this distance."
"It is not my desire to tame the plants, yes." She agrees to Rune. "Which is why this one wishes to preserve the old ways as much as possible, and discuss with those in am'shere how best to do so."
Harkashan lays his hands over Rune's upper legs to help root her in place while allowing her movement of her legs. Watching the parade, he can't help but smile. A moment to see his culture again, thriving en masse. Celebrations like these were not possible for many years of his life, due to the constant threat of the Charnites, until they got pushed out during the initial two waves.
"I believe I'll be able to handle the blue petal." Harkashan rumbles, assuming Aelwyn means Rune. "I do not think I could carry too." He then apologizes to the short one, glad that Seyardu offers an alternative.
Sjach tilts head back slightly at the touch of Seyardu's hand, but he's snapped out of it after a few moments to respond to Rune once more. "No, it is only a concern. Thiss one welcomes it, but this one is cautious." he explains. "It will be good. Thiss one only hopes that the plants of home keep their barbs and poisons, that the young ones know to respect them. And this one has spoken with Seyardu about it, and knows that this is how it will be." he continues. "And yes, Alexandria and The Peoples of the gate are good. They do not brooke poaching." he says- which Seyardu if not the others will know is a somewhat begrudging admission, given his attitude towards the city not so long ago.
"Tch, this one is not that short he cannot see just fine, Silver Shaman!" The Dragoon calls out; and indeed, soon he wasn't. Wedging his glaive hard onto the ground, he then leaps up; balancing his arms on the haft of his weapon. Monmentarily, he raises his legs in the air, arms holding onto his glaive whose heat was touching his horns...
... then his toga falls over his face. The dangers of wearing flappy clothing. Finally, with his legs twisting in the air, he brings himself down to lean onto the weapon with his legs, using his weight as a counterbalance. It was a really rickety looking pose - but on the other hand, at least he could see better, holding onto the blade of his glaive. The others get a swish from his tail. "Tch, next time Lava. This one is owed a lift by those strong arms for hoisting that armor out of the chasm."
The parade proceeds further and deeper. There are not many displays as intricate as the Prowling Dragon that had come by. But there are more performers a bit further back along the line. Notably, and somewhat uniquely, the Sith-makar are not alone. There are a few Ko-Jodakh in attendance. Many riding unadorned Swiftclaws, while carrying colorful flower-covered 'poles' with ribbons at the top. Smaller Ko-Jodakh doing small tricks at the top of these poles and sprinkling flowers from baskets, while carried by the more powerful Ko-jodakh riders.
While the Ko-jodakh do not share the most peaceful relationship with the Sith-makar, they do share one thing in particular. And that is their reverence and relationship with the Swiftclaw. And in preparation for the Swiftclaw Races that will come later in the evenings, the Ko-jodakh racers are showing their strength and presence as part of the parade. And, on this day, their presence is celebrated. For it is a day that their bonds can become stronger.
For this is a celebration of history, and work. And the Ko-jodakh once stood side by side with the Sith-makar and Nar-Sektoth against the Charn.
GAME: Seyardu rolls perception: (14)+8: 22
Zeke finds his tail tangled with Cuemoni, and though his initial instinct is worry... it's less upset than it is almost a touch of amusement. "Sssaaaa." He offers, touching her arm and then gently moving to detangle their tails gently. "Thisss one doess not mind." He doesn't. This pleases him too.
Once it would have bothered him a great deal more, he touches her chin, just under her red stripe. Relishing the lack of fear there. "You have not harmed thissss one." He offers these words of reassurance with warmth.
"This one is always happy to have your support and trust, Sjach. Just as this one is happy to have your support to see some of what you share today." Seyardu rumbles amusedly, letting her tail swish against the hunters back and frills. The cleric watches Aelwyn for a moment and chuckles at his antics. "It takes quite a bit of balance to do that, it is impressive." They state, only to sniff at the air again, their tail stilling some. There's a small, low noise of concern, not at the riders coming next, but for the hunter below her she is even more aware of suddenly.
"Are you alright, Sjach?" She asks, looking down with matching concern and wrapping her tail around their chest.
As he spots a Ko-jodakh rider, there is a palpable change in Sjach. Seyardu will feel it- his mucles tense into tight springs in his shoulders, his posture lowers, tail held out and steady to balance against him. His hand goes to the back of his breachclout, where the only weapon he had brought with him- his simple obsidian knife- is tucked. His mouth curls into a snarl, his spines bristle, and the translucent nictating inner eyelids blink across his eyes while they remain fixed on him. "Tchk." he clucks in open contempt. "What are the clutch-crushing, water-blooded <<animals>> doing here?" he hisses.
"Ultimately, that's the goal, right? To retain as much Makari culture as possible for those who might dwell elsewhere." This, of course, is from the Half-sil partner of a Makari. In many ways, her understanding is limited by her experience.
Only a single other glance is given to Aelwyn as he deals with his wardrobe malfunction, obviously trying not to laugh.
Instead, her eyes follow the other creatures who join the parade festivities. They are not as familiar to her, so her head tilts slightly, obviously curious. Perhaps, they had not been part of one of the former festivals she attended, even.
"There... won't be any trouble, will there?" She asks, just before Sjach reacts. "I wouldn't have expected to see those... others here."
The bashfulness that Cuemoni experiences disappears when Zeke reassures her, and a rush of air leaves her like a little sigh. Her golden eyes flanked by red painted lines nictate in surprise when he touches her chin, and then they behold him more fully in realization that he is touching her. "This one's touch doesn't...?"
The golden eyes nictate again. And then a very, very pleased, happy noise leaves her. "This one simply did not want to upset you, Zeke," she says. "This one is very, very..."
It's hard for her to find the words. But she does. Her tail begins to flick again in excitement before its tip gently curls around the tip of Zeke's tail in a little embrace. "This one is overjoyed that you place such trust in this one," she says. "This one knows it means much for that to happen."
Cuemoni leans in a little closer to Zeke. The display of unity that passes by them seems an appropriate symbol for this moment. "This one trusts you as much," she says softly, gently--gently like the small lap of the waves at the shore where she'd begun to realize her feelings for him.
Harkashan glances aside when he spots that flash of black. And no doubt, there are other Sith-makar who are showing some discomfort when it comes to the presence of the Ko-jodakh. But it's also very clear why these Ko-jodakh are here.
It isn't to make fun, or to insist on their presence. But to find a shared connection with the Sith-makar. But the Ko-jodakh are dressed in flowerful clothes. They are here throwing flowers. They are celebrating with them, even if their Swiftclaws are not painted!
"These ones are not your enemy." Harkashan offers to Sjach.
He then glances 'up' a bit, though he can't easily make eyecontact with Rune. "Many Sith-makar have... troublesome history with the Ko-jodakh. We're not formerly at war. But there's occassional spats these days. It used to be far worse than things are now." He tries to explain. "No doubt some Speakers are trying to help solidify bonds."
Seyardu looks saddened, but not surprised, and the silver cleric rumbles again in concern, placing one hand supportively on Sjach's shoulder.
"This one, knows it is hard for you, Sjach." She states honestly, taking another glance at the riders. "But we must trust in the people and their judgement. not all makari are alike, and this one would hope not all ko-jodakh are alike. They are not those who did what they did to you, they are long gone."
Two sith amongst all the others. Zeke and Cuemoni aren't the only ones embracing as they watch the parade. For once, for perhaps the first time in a long time, the blue-scale feels normal. Like anyone else. Here he is amongst a crowd, touching another sith-makar. He thrums low in his chest the noise that a happy sith makes. He'd never imagined that he might have this much.
Zeke is unfamiliar as some are with those who are joining the parade who are not sith-makar themselves. They do not bother him, but he is curious, and as he looks around a little to see if others are surprised by their presence he notices Seyardu and those gathered around the shaman. "Cuemoni..." He rumbles the female's name. In particular the way that the unfamiliar male who is holding Seyardu on his shoulders is standing tells him that something unpleasant might be coming. So he gives Cuemoni a gentle warning tone.
Aelwyn rumbles and waves his hand at Seyardu. "This one is most grateful for the praise." It was a functional way of reaching height! Besides, his red toga was all in order now; benefits of loose flappy clothing.
"Tch, what is a good festivity if not with animosity?" The Dragoon rumbles, as he balances himself up on his glaive. "Though this one is surprised as well - usually they partake, but they do not really partake in spirit." Politics, in sense.
"They burn our homes and crush our unborn under heel. Take us by spear or sword or dagger by cover of night." Sjach offers his own interpretation of Harkashan's words to Rune. But while his fist grips the leather bound hilt of his dagger, he does not draw it- although it looks as though he might at any moment. There's a tense silence, before Seyardu's words sway him and he reluctantly releases his grip on the blade. And realizes that his fingers are digging into Seyardu's leg where he supported her, possibly uncomfortably, and he takes effort to relax that white-kuckled grip as well.
"Tchk, shaaa." he hisses more wordless sounds of disapproval. "This one will not cause trouble." he assures Seyardu, "But this one will watch for it. Remember the Nar-Sektoth, the boat." he reminds Seyardu then- one of their earliest outings together. His eyes remain fixed, unblinking save for the nictating membranes on the passing riders.
The Ko-jodakh portion of the parade eventually moves past without trouble. A few tense expressions from some Sith-makar. But the younger Hatchlings are all smiles and celebrating, catching the flowers that drift down and being impressed by the shows of strength. They do not notice the tension in the adults as much. And many Sith-makar no doubt hide their true thoughts in that moment, for the sake of that younger generation.
It is in their nature to look forward, and not cling to the past.
Following behind the Ko-jodakh is another series of Euakaxitlakatl Swiftclaws carrying more Euakaxitl on their bodies. The parade continues for a while, but are soon approaching upon the Ziggurat, where the stronger Sith-makar Euakaxitlakatl look to lift some of the Euakaxitl up the many steps of the Ziggurat, and lay them against the tallest spots.
With the Parade starting to end, the Sith-makar begin to spread out. Moving into the main road, and roam towards the forks of the road. This means less bodies in a small area, but a lot more movement. A good group of the Sith-makar moving towards the area for the races, while others are moving towards the ball-games that are typically held on the east side of the Ziggurat.
Of course, with the parade over, it also means a lot more throngs forming around the various shops.
The warning that Zeke gives is enough to tell Cuemoni to keep a watchful golden eye out. She watches the Ko-jodakh pass... without trouble. And another sound like a sigh leaves her. "Peaceful waters and gentle hearth-fire," she says softly. It's a grateful saying for the fact that the levy of tension did not break, and that the dam of war did not spill over onto this parade.
As the parade spins to an end and others are moving, Cuemoni returns her attention to Zeke. She gives a happier rumble. "Where would you like to go?" she asks him. "To the stalls for spices now that the parade's done? To watch the races? Or... the ball-games?"
Her voice is bashful again as she admits, "This one enjoys the ball-games, but this one also knows that the time to find what one wants is earlier in the day rather than later. The ball-games can wait."
Leave it to Harkashan to play the diplomat in a tense situation. She seems far more apt to believe Sjach's telling of the situation. Her blue eyes follow the riders from her vantage point. "With the level of animosity that just rippled through most people here, I'd say keeping an eye on them would be in our best interest. If they don't start something, some of the others might."
As the parade is coming to an end, Rune touches one of Harkashan's horns before she slides down, landing easily on her feet. "I expect they'll behave for the time being, though. It's when it gets dark and people are deep in their cups that things have a tendency to go wrong." She reaches up to arrange a few of the flowers in her hair, looking momentarily worried.
Harkashan makes for a slow nod. He isn't going to try and erase Sjach's experience, and laments that such things continue to happen in the jungles. "You are right. We should be watchful. But there are Warriors in charge of peace tonight. This isn't something we should be concerning ourselves with unless we witness something happening ourselves." He bids to Rune.
He then kneels down to let Rune onto the ground, and turns to Aelwyn. "Very well. Next time, you get to ride my shoulders." He then offers to Aelwyn - before turning to Rune. "Shall I give you a few minutes to find all the blue flowers left behind by the parade before they all get trampled?"
Zeke nods to Cuemoni as the parade comes to an end and the sith begin to move about to go to different activities. He considers the options, and looks at her. "The ball-gamess are one of thisss onesss favorite activitess alssso." He seems pleased that they have such in common. "Thisss one thinksss... that the sspicesss will be here when they are done, and if not... we have not lossst much. Thisss one would rather misss the end of a game than the beginning." Indeed, leaving early meant that he could avoid the crowd leaving, and the crowd entering was always smaller after a fashion as people filtered in more slowly. Though if the games were close he was amenable to lingering a while in the stands so as to avoid the crowd that way.
"We can even sstay late, and avoid the crowdsss leaving sssso ass to not missss the endsss if you prefer. Either way, thissss one would like to go and watch them."
There's a pause in the silver cleric atop Sjach's shoulders, and they let out long puff of air. "This one will never forget Sjach, you know this." They state sadly. "Much as this one knows you will not forget what happened to you."
seyardu pats the shoulder again, moving her leg once it was no longer pinned down painfully. "This one has always been a hopeless optimist, but they wish things to be alright today. It is not a time for use to foster hatred, though the jungles always require wariness and respect."
Sjach breathes, slowly, and the tension begins to recede from his muscles, though he watches in silence as the last of the riders passes by. Finally he slowly lowers down, to let Seyardu off his shoulders as well. "Yess... this one admires that about you." he murmurs, turning to cup her face with one hand, and nuzzle against it with his cheek. "But this one will stand vigil with the warriors tonight". Not entirely willing to let go of this grudge.
"But for now, in light of day, we should try to enjoy the festival." he admits, breathing another uneasy sigh. His voice lowers, tinged with concern and embarrassment, speaking closely with Seyardu "Did this one hurt you? He did not mean to pinch."
Aelwyn slides off his glaive when the parade begins to pass them. Unbounded by energy, he glances after the group - the tension in the air was barely an afterthought to him. All that mattered was the liveliness off the moment - in both good and bad. Flavors of life.
The Dragoon turns his head towards Harkashan, to whom he steps over and bumps his hips against. "Tch, forget the shoulders, this one would much prefer being taught to ride. Firmly." He rumbles with a flick of his forked tongue. "And whom better than Hotstone?" Yes, to ride. Orange eyes were filled with mirth.
Turning towards the others, the short ruddy sith-makar makes a gesture with his hands. "There shan't be much trouble today - there never is in such a large moment of celebration. It would be unjust to the gods -" And more gravely, "- and be very rude to the hosts. Nothing angers those above the skies more." His tail thumps on the ground. His attention inevitably starts to slip after the swiftclaws and he clicks his teeth audibly. "Tch."
It's certainly something to consider--the ideal organization of the day, and what makes sense for them both. Cuemoni looks thoughtful for a long moment. It's true; this is not the only place in Am'shere where spices can be bought and purchased. And...
Her tail twitches excitedly at the thought of enjoying the ball-games with Zeke.
"Let us stay a little late and avoid the crowds," Cuemoni replies. The golden eyes regard her companion a little longer before she gives him a warm little rumble. Then, more shyly, she admits: "This one will not turn down a chance to stay with you, after all."
It's a little moment, but for them, it's more than little.
"Sounds like a plan, big-guy." Rune replies, peering through bodies as the Makari start to disburse. "I'll grab what I can and meet you at the races, alright?" With that, the sneaky little rogue starts to weave her way through the crowd, occassionally snatching up flowers and tucking them away. If nothing else, they would do little good to anyone trampled into the dirt. At least, in her care, they'd have a second purpose.
Seyardu takes a few steps off of Sjach's back, and quickly returns the nuzzling with an accompanying hug. "No, this one is fine, do not worry, Sjach." The cleric answers firmly, taking a step back, but keeping an arm around the hunter. "But you are right, if you are to stand vigil tonight, we must make the most of the day, yes? This one is always happy to spend time with you, and there is still much of the festival to enjoy. This one needs to find a gift for their brother, as well." They rumble happily.
"Where should we go next?" They wonder, taking a look at Rune and Aelwyn dispersing.
OOC
<OOC> Sjach forgot to mention in the pose, but he totally dropped his elote to go for his dagger :<
<OOC> Cuemoni says, "NOT THE ELOTE"
<OOC> Seyardu says, "nooo"
<OOC> Zeke ;.;
<OOC> Aelwyn says, "day ruined"