Gratitude the Second

In most of Alexandria, it is somewhere between chilly and positively freezing, so late in the fall, and here in the park is no different. A gusty breeze rattles the leaves on the trees, adding more leaves to the carpet at every turn and creating more work for the volunteers who tend this place. They are at work now, here and there, but they are only one or two, and few others venture here on a fair but chilly day.

Seldan stands alone in the middle of the path, ignoring his cloak whipping in a gust of wind. A leather satchel is at his feet, but he has his head bowed, his hands together in an expression of focus and meditation with the silver pendant on his neck sandwiched between them.

"S'cold." The tiny voice comes from underneath a large, fuzzy hat. A ushanaka--those being one of the trends, these days. But, large and fuzzy enough that it covers at least the bum of the creature trying to hide underneath it. A two-year old, by the looks of things.

"Hsst. It is cold, but you are. Brave. And they will be happy to sshare words."

"..." the tiny one does its best to duck beneath the hat, though it's just a touch too big. At the sight of the softskin, it scurries around the adult's shoulders. Pitter-pitter of tiny claws.

"Peasse to you, warrior."

As the adult and baby sith-makar watch, the steel pendant between the softskin's hands begins to glow, a lovely moonlight-silver, and as Seldan finishes the brief prayer he's speaking, the glow races out from that point between his hands, to momentarily cover him, head to foot, in that silvery glow. As soon as it touches all of him, it vanishes, and his shoulders relax. A familiar spell to the adult, no doubt, the one that shields from heat and cold alike.

Only then does he turn, and his smile visibly brightens. "Peace be upon your nest, and good morn to you," he greets, eyes on the little one hiding beneath the hat. "I am glad to see you - and, I have something for you, and for your little one."

The small one peers around the adult. Its eyes are wide, wide, and the tail flicks arond the adult's shoulders. "Iss ssafe?" it asks, and after a moment, the adult reaches up. "It iss. Ssafe." Svarshan gently takes the small one's legs and lifts them.

Settles them onto the stones.

Only to have them yelp, and hop back onto his boots.

Well.

"It iss. Cold," Svarshan says warmly to Seldan, by way of explanation. "Not used to the weather but they are. Learning. You have mastered the rock-warming prayer?" he asks then, voice picking up, as one might with a favorite topic.

Seldan's laugh is quiet, acknowledging of truth. "One among the eaglefolk teaches me to fly, and invoking the wings tears my clothing," he admits, clearly sympathetic as he watches the little one yelp in the cold. "I would be lost without that particular blessing." He leans down to the satchel at his feet, and rummages in it for a moment. "I ... had not gotten a chance to properly thank you for your help ... earlier. Without it, I would not be able to hunt." An oblique reference to his current quest.

From the satchel, he pulls a paper package, and unwraps it to reveal a pair of yellow fruits, slightly wrinkled but sound, and shaped in such a way that if one were to cut it cross-wise, the cross-section would be shaped like a star. "On my travel yesterday, I came across a merchant selling these, and thought of you and your little ones." He offers the fruits to Svarshan.

The small one looks to the adult, and then reaches out. Just...tosses the hand out there. Grabby claws. Gimmie! Gimmie gimmie!

Svarshan reaches down, then lifts them up so they might reach the tasty things. "One is glad," he says all the while. "...a sstar?" he asks then. And looks to the small one. Gives them a light shake. "Ssa. Did you hear? Hold the fruit up after you. Bite into it. It will look like a sstar."

The fruit is reached for with wide eyes.

"One is glad you are able to. Hunt. ...but any assistance was the. Dragonfather's to. Give. ...though one regretss. Many of the prayers did not. Find the purchasse they ssought. It was the driving-away of magics that finally devoured the. Plague." A pause. Lower, warm: "And perhapss a sstronger version of the prayer than is usually. Written."

The fruits are mildly sweet, with a firm flesh, and the promised shape will readily appear if the child bites into it. Seldan lets the little one take the fruit, then watches, his smile broadening at its fascination, eyes warm and light with genuine appreciation. Only the mention of the plague draws his attention back to the adult, and he flushes lightly with embarrassment. The smile fades, too. "I am only grateful that it worked," he says, more seriously. "And that you were willing to try. It is not evil, and yet, the evil that it creates is beyond measure." A set, determined expression, and he drops his voice, ensuring that the child is distracted with the fruit before speaking. "Its creator managed to touch the Source. To create new things, to give them life. The plague is the result, from what I have been able to learn."

Sweet juices drip down the tiny muzzle, as the child bites into the fruit. As it reaches for a second, the adult reaches over, and taps the arm.

"It iss sstar," he says.

The child looks at it, and thumps its tail. Then, bites into the fruit, voraciously.

"...that is troubling," Svarshan says to Seldan, then. "...perhaps the libraries of Navos may know of a ssimilar tale. One has not...worked with their clergy in ssome time. Yet. ...they may remember."

Seldan nods slowly. "The Father of Time." He uses the Myrrish name for Navos, but that is not unusual. His eyes are still on the child as it messily enjoys the fruits brought, but his mind is not. "I shall seek them out. One of their faithful is known to me ... but lies severely injured." He shakes his head regretfully. "I should see her, though I would hope to see her on her feet soon."

"One regrets their injury and hopes. The causse of it lies beneath their claws," Svarshan replies, voice low. He looks to say more, but seems a loss for words. Words.

He reaches for the small one, who slips out of his grip, instead. And holds its claws up to Seldan, miming, "More?"

Sticky, juice-covered claws.

The older reptile chokes, and hisses. And has to clear his throat. "This one does not know if he has. Any more. You sshould ssay. Thank you."

"Perhaps not hers, but I mean to find it beneath mine, if the gods are kind." There is steel in that, but Seldan's attention is arrested instead by the little one, and he simply laughs, the sound bright and clear, squatting until he is on the child's level. "I do not, but you are quite the mess, little one." He is about to raise a hand, but something stops him, and he looks up. "I can clean him quickly, if you do not object."

Another laugh. "With this one's thanks. But, they musst learn. We are on the way to the. Posst Office," Svarshan says. And lifts the small, wide-eyed and sticky thing. At some point, a person ceases to notice these things.

There's a...well. That piece of pie crust has probably been on his cloak for some time.

Svarshan. Probably needs a bath.

Or at least his cloak.

As the child is lifted, Seldan stands again, and draws a simple and quick gesture in the air, then speaks a word. That done, he raises that same hand, and sticky child and pie crust alike melt away as if they had never been. Life is much simpler with Prestidigitation. There is still laughter in his eyes, something that Svarshan has seldom seen since this whole plague thing came up, and he seems genuinely relaxed. "Very well. Peace, and not sticky, be on your nest. I should go as well. It is good to have seen you."