Knocking Sense
Log Info
- Title: Knocking Sense
- Emitter: Zeke
- Characters: Zeke, Seldan, Cryosanthia
- Place: A10: Temple of Daeus
- Time: Friday, April 10, 2020, 4:02 PM
- Summary: Seldan reluctantly travels to Mictlan and finds Zeke, who is tending to patients and has changed his robes. The blue-scale sith is worried first that the paladin is here to arrest him, but Seldan explains that would not be true justice, the one behind the crimes remains unpunished. He explains that Zeke needs to knock sense into Cryosanthia, who now seems to hate him. They discuss how few want to tackle the plauge. As tea is being poured, Cryosanthia arrives. She declares her love for Zeke and apologizes to Seldan, then expresses that her emotional state has been completely overwhelming and she regrets many things not done, because of waiting for them at the Temple, and how even her grief is confusing as well as overwhelming, due to her missing memories. Zeke confirms he needs to atone for his deeds, but has hope that the Dragonfather has not abandonned him, because of a dream of winter turning to spring. He then asks that Seldan be his brother, and properly witness to Cryosanthia being his cihuaa and actually names her so for the first time. Cryo immediately has a growing list of guests, but wishes to take Zeke off and show him a private waterfall.
-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-<* W02: Mictlan *>-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-
Located within the Deep Woods, and hours past Wilderness Pointe, in the heart of its northern woods, bones frame this hollowed-out space. Massive and heavy, they reach towards the sky, meeting--almost--in the center like great and worn stalagmites. Or giant teeth. After a few seconds--it's quickly evident that this is a space carved from a dragon's bones. A very, very large...dragon's bones. The air smells of ash, brimstone, and earth. Underneath the apex of the bones lie the workings of a central Fire.
The grounds are run by shamans of the sith-makar, and the sacred space dedicated to the Death Singing Dragon, one of their names for the goddess, Vardama. There are always a number of them about, from a mixture of tribes. Formally, the sith use it to sing the souls of their dead back to the land of Wing and Flame, and celebrate the Memory of Blood. It was here that brave heroes stood, and vanquished the ashen warriors of old, thereby freeing the land from Thul's curse. Informally, it is a gathering place.
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-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- Appearing, in Order -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= Zeke 6'8" 239 Lb Sith-Makar Male A blue-scaled sith-makar in white Daeus vestments Seldan 5'11" 187 Lb Human Male Ginger-blonde human in armor wearing Eluna's symbol. Cryosanthia 6'9" 267 Lb Sith-Makar Female A dashingly tall, elegant white-scaled lizard woman. -=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=
At first glance it's easy to overlook Zeke, or rather to not recognize him for himself. The blue-scaled sith is where one might expect to find a healer. Among those sick and injured. There has been a recent influx of rescued slaves from Charneth, and Zeke tends to those among them who need aid. He sits beside one of the more grievously injured and wraps the unconscious sith's body with bandages.
The reason that the blue-scale sith does not look like himself is the white robes he wears, marked with the symbol of Daeus's sunburst clearly. It is a far cry from the dark vestments that the sith normally wears, but those sith who direct others here insist that this sith is indeed him. Surely his six black horns and blue scales marked with their old scars mark him as being himself.
For nothing less would Seldan have ventured to Mictlan. His manner has been uncertain since setting foot within its confines, his greetings to those who approach him diffident and respectful, although he keeps his own counsel on why he does so. He follows the hunters and guards to this place, and nods his appreciation. "Thank you," he tells them quietly, but remains out of the way, simply watching Zeke work. In the middle of tending a patient is not the time to disrupt the concentration of the healer, and well he knows it. So, he waits.
It's a bit of a wait, for Zeke is ever attentive to his patients, even checking the other sith for signs of a fever once his work is done before finally turning away. He freezes though, at the sight of Seldan standing there waiting for him. For a moment the sith does not move, then slowly and with care he does. Striding forward to meet the paladin, he nods low initially, then meets Seldan's gaze with his own. "Peasssce on your nesst." He straightens slightly. "Have you come to arresssst thisss one Ssseldan?"
Seldan straightens as Zeke approaches him, his demeanor very different from the one he normally wears in Alexandria. The diffidence recalls his first days in Alexandria more than the man he has become, but neither does he flinch, and there is more than a little reserve in the bearing. He does, however, smile, at least fleetingly. "By what right and what law may I do such a thing, Zeke?" he answers, keeping his voice low out of respect for the sleeping. His hands do not move from where they rest. "I stand in a land that is not mine, and even in Alexandria, such an act is beyond my authority," he points out. "No, I know the truth of the matter as well as any and better than most. There is no justice to be had in punishing a crime, does the one who ordered the crime go free."
Zeke takes in Seldan's stance and finally relaxes slightly, though in relaxing he seems slightly troubled. He inclines his head once more, acknowledging the other's words. "There isss much truth in your wordssss Ssseldan. Come, let usss away from the resssting sssick. Thisss one will make you tea and give you welcome by the firesss of the People." Zeke motions for Seldan to follow him a short distance away to an empty, smaller fire and a waiting tea pot. Zeke attends to it with familiar motions of their association, and as always pouring tea seems to calm the sith-makar. Eventually, he has a cup to offer the paladin, and one for himself besides. "If you have not come for jussstice though, then thisss one isss ssurprisssed to sssee you. Have you... have you not heard that Menel is dead?"
Seldan follows obediently to the fires, looking around him with great interest, as in one who has never been here before. When tea is offered, though, he shakes his head, and although he takes the cup, he does not drink from it, seating himself slowly. "I was present when he was slain." The words are quiet, flat, cool. "I do not approve of what was done," he goes on, quietly, directly, simply, and behind the reserved, careful words, in the deep sadness in his eyes, there is real pain, and real grief, and real anger. But, it is all held in check, tightly controlled. "But I also know who demanded that you do it, that you could not resist, and I believe that I know why. I know what She is trying to do, and I will not have it. I will not find justice here. I will find revenge here, but I did not come for revenge. Justice for his death, and the deaths of countless others, will I find in a tower in the land of ice."
"No, I came here because your cihuaa needs some sense knocked back into her." -There's- the anger. He's upset at Cryosanthia? "Because I repay my debts. And because I shall not permit her to win, with her wiles and deception."
The blue-scaled sith looks away at the mention of Menel's death. "Thisss one underssstandsss. It was... a horrible thing. The only gladnesss in thisss onesss heart isss that Cryossanthia doesss not now know the pain of having ssslain her fosssterling. Thisss one hass nothing but regret now that he isss gone, thiss one can hardly imagine that thisss one wanted him dead at all." He lets out a soft mournful sound and shakes his head.
"You are wissse beyond your yearssss Sseldan. It took much for thisss one to realissse that blaming the onessss sself for thisss can not undo it, and can not end the one who created the sssicknesss that thisss one took from Cryosssanthia." His is the bearing of someone who has if not totally come to terms with their own place in the universe, then one who has glimpsed it and is /coming/ to terms. "Thisss one... sssent her a letter. Do you know if ssshe hasss read it? Isss ssshe well?"
"I know little," Seldan answers, although he ducks his head with pleasure at the compliment. "She will only just talk to me, and then only when she must. I cannot but wonder if..." He sighs. "I am fairly certain that she now hates me, and I cannot say why. She continues to pursue the work against the plague, but is cold and uncaring. Were I so wise as you say, perhaps I would know what to think."
He pushes a lock of hair away from his eyes, the Myrrish lilt rippling with white-hot steel. "In truth, I know but one thing, for good or ill. I did not leave my blood on the floor of Draco Solis' holy temple, or find myself marked black beneath His light, that She be allowed to use people as playthings without answering for it. That much only do I know for certain."
Zeke holds his cup in his claw and exhales slowly. "Thisss one hasss promisssed not to approch her if ssshe choosssess not to forgive thisss one. Ssshe hasss a right not to. Perhapsss ssshe growsss cold asss a defenssse from her heart which hasss led her ssso asstray asss to even for a time to chossse one sssuch asss thisss one." Zeke exhales, clearly saddened by the thought that the female might choose to not be with him. "You would know her choice by if ssshe wearssss my favor."
The blue-scale looks at Seldan. "You bear many ssscarsss for the battlesss you have fought Ssseldan, you do not ssseem... yoursself either of late. Thisss battle grows wearrisssome thisss one knowsss, and ssso we mussst attend to the demonsss of our mindss if we are to fight thossse in the flesssh."
Startled out of his steel by the unexpected words, Seldan almost takes a sip of tea to cover it, but refrains, and sets the tea on the ground next to him. "I cannot say that I would know such a favor, for I do not know your people so well as all that. But ... what mean you, I do not seem myself? Does something trouble you?"
"Thisss one worriesss yesss. That you are taking too much of thisss trouble on your back alone. That it will be a burden to crack your ssshouldersss." Zeke leans toward Seldan, his green eyes full of deep thoughts. "Thissss one doesss not worry that you are comprimisssed, not that, but thisss one doesss think that you have made yoursself known to the missstresss, and that ssshe will ssseek you out to give you greater burdensss to bear."
A horse was not in the cards for Cryosanthia. Getting to Mictlan as fast as she could would have involved running there. She walks into a place she hasn't seen, or smelt, in decades. This hits her on a level she wasn't expecting, so many scents, and she's attempting to pick out one. She finally determines that Zeke is there, and where he is, and approaches.
"If I do not, then who will?" The pair are sitting in the gathering place, before one of the fires. Zeke has tea in hand; Seldan's rests on the ground at his feet, untouched, and the two talk quietly. There is something diffident, reserved about Seldan's bearing here, that is very, very different from his usual quiet confidence in Alexandria. "There is but one of my fellow Silver Guard who have offered assistance, and she seems to be focused upon Eclavdran. That do I leave to her, for her expertise is greater than mine. Most either are infected, fear to be infected, or simply do not listen to what they are told." He adds a sigh, "I have not spoken of it before, but my own mother is also infected, and has taken a turn for the worse of late. I do what I can for her, but I must see this through. By no other means can I truly save her."
"We will help you asss we can Sseldan. Thisss one, if you will allow one sssuch ass thisss one to be of sservice." Zeke thrums low in his throat. "That your nessst-mother isss ill, thisss one isss sssorry to hear. Thisss one knowsss that ssuch relationssshipsss are very clossse among thossse who are not of the People. It mussst be hard for you to sssee her ssso. Perhapsss thisss one could sssee to her? Thisss one knowsss much of the plague, and may be able to eassse her sssymptomsss sssomewhat."
There is a familiar scent in the air suddenly and Zeke's head lifts to find the source, suddenly stiffening at the sight of the female he both expected and did not expect to see. His green eyes roam over her form with what is clear concern before he ever turns his gaze to her wrist were her sleeves hide the answer he seeks. "Cryosssanthia." He rises to his feet.
"Zeke! I love you." Cryosanthia says, coming up to him. Her scent is strong, since she's been running, it's mostly one of exhertion and confusion. That has overwhelmed and washed away other scents, which seem to be for every possible thing she could feel. Even that, adds to her confused scent. She stops in front of him, moves to embrace, stops the gesture and stands in her spot. She exhales.
"Seldan, it is clear to me you don't understand any of my emotions. I'm not angry that were unable to save Menel, you had to be lucky every time and we only had to be lucky once."
"I'm angry at myself for waiting at the Temple of Daeus as I was told and relying on others to handle problems I've caused. Faran said I should have been searching for you, Zeke, not her. I was hoping both of you would come to me instead of leaving me to figure things out and get out of myself on my own."
Before Seldan can answer or give Zeke any details, there is Cryosanthia, and suddenly, for a brief span of breaths, Seldan looks like he's been struck across the face. He is silent, watching the tableau for the space of several breaths while replies considered and discarded flit one by one behind his eyes. "Luck had nothing to do with his death," he finally chooses quietly. "Foolishness on my part did. Still, your words are kind, and I thank you." He says nothing more on the matter, an impassive reserve stealing over the diffidence in his bearing.
It clearly troubles Zeke; Seldan's expression, and his words bow Zeke's head. "Indeed, it wasss not luck, nor your foolisshnesss Sseldan. It wasss thisss oness doing. Thiss onesss effortssss. There isss but one to blame besssidesss thisss one. And that isss not Sseldan, nor Cryosssanthia." Zeke's words are firm and then he is meeting Cryosanthia's eyes with his own bright green ones. "Thisss one could /not/ go to you Cryossanthia. Not without knowing if ssseeing thisss one would only hurt you more. Thisss one hasss heard that you have not been well, and thisss one isss ssorry for that. Thisss one would beg you forgive Ssseldan the sssame, for you have not been your-sself either thesse passst daysss."
"They whisked you off at the Temple of Eluna, Seldan, cured me and patted me on the tail and sent me back to the Temple of Daeus. Where I waited. I couldn't go near Menel, nor Zeke. I was not until this second sure I wouldn't attack you after Kol's instructions. I remember, wanting to. Faran told me Menel was safe, then I heard nothing. Days, nothing. Then your letter, then still nothing." Cryosanthia pulls back her sleeve, showing off the ribbon tied around her wrist. She looks at the blue-scale, "Where was I to be? I searched Alexandria. You knew where I was, I waited. I thought you had turned from the Dragonfather"
"I had ideas of what you might try, Zeke. I knew you would be smart. I knew Seldan needed my help. I waited to be asked, I guess. I don't know why I stayed at the temple. I thought you might even get your mother to do the deed, somehow, or have another prisoner or convince the sith guards to let you in. I should have been guarding the front of the Guild, but I waited, and nothing. No news. Even when I saw you, Seldan, no news. Perhaps it was obvious I knew, no need to tell. Poor Faran, I put her through so much, she's off with Fae now because she wished to drown herself with me in the river. This random elf, helping me in the library, gets through. This one apologizes it was too much shock. I felt too much. I did not trust myself to act while feeling all these things."
Cryosanthia exhales, "It hurts a lot Zeke, but it is not your fault, it is Hers, it is mine, for not being able to hold this in my mind either. I can't even manage the feelings still. I have a foundling! The foundling is grown! My offspring is dead, I have no memories to mourn! It's a confusing mass of pain."
By the time Cryosanthia is done speaking, Seldan wears the look of one standing before a withering drill sergeant or a scolding parent, his expression blank. The only words he speaks, very low, are simple but cryptic. "The reverse is more likely to be the case, though I dared not ask. Draco - the Dragonfather forbids such acts."
The paladin's words make Zeke grow very still indeed. It seems that it must be, in some small way, the way of the sith-makar to grow very cold and very still and very empty when something is wrong with them. For those words steal the life out of Zeke. He looks at no one, but rather clenches his right claw into the firm and well-woven fabric of the new robes he wears as if to steel himself.
Cryosanthia again moves towards Zeke, and again halts herself. He has gone still, cold, she is the opposite, like a pillar of fire with all sorts of scents wafting off her. One might almost expect the very air surrounding her to waver like a heat mirage. Sympathy, anger, confidence, power, grief, despair, resolve, determination, comfort. A protecting scent, one for readying for battle, that lets other sith knows she's afraid but this one won't break. A courage on an instinctive level. "Zeke, come back to me. We will resolve this, if it cannot be restored we will adapt, one lives with the wounds and the marks that make us."
The palescale faces Seldan, "His letter said ... things. I waited under the Dragons of Light. A cruel dare. I've been acting in ways that would cause passive pain."
Seldan's eyes lower as Zeke's movements say more than words ever could. "You would not know, Cryosanthia." From the visible deflation and shared pain written through his body language, Zeke just confirmed his worst fears. "If he would return to grace ... then he must dare the," he pauses briefly, "shamans of the Dragonfather. Confess his crimes and seek to atone for them." He looks up, and at Zeke, not at Cryosanthia. Not yet. "I would ask of you this much, Zeke. For it is as you say - She knows me now. She has seen my face, and I hers. I raised sword against her lackey before Daeus' altar. She will not forget, and I do not doubt that I shall be her next target. Stop me, Zeke. Whatever it takes, for if Eluna turns her face from me ... there can be no return."
Zeke shudders, drawing back to himself with aching slowness. He turns between them. "Thisss one ssseeksss sssuch even now." He swallows hoarsness in his throat. "But thisss one isss reminded that the Dragonfather chossse thisss one onsce. That it isss thisss one that failss to ssee the light, not He. Thisss one hasss had a visssion of the sssunlight turning winter to ssspring. Of the Great Dragon basking in the world of Light and thisss one knowss that there isss forgivenesss for thisss one."
He coughs and meets Seldan's gaze. "Thisss one hasss faith Ssseldan. Thisss one /mussst/ have faith. Thisss one came to Mictlan to die in ssshame for what thiss on did, but the Death Singing Dragon did not find thisss one; it wassss the Light. Thisss one ssswearsss Sseldan. Thisss one would kill you rather than have you feel the world devoid of that light, but thisss one believesss in uss."
His look includes Cryosanthia now. "Thisss one believess in ussss. Thisss one believesss that our sssacrificessss will be the sstumbling block upon which the missstresss fallss. Thisss one believesss that ssshe will never undersssstand what makess usss sstrong. Our tiessss that bind and make usss work together when ssshe sssendss usss to fight one-another. Sshe would never underssstand the mersscy thisss one begged of Ssseldan, or the one that thisss one would give him. Would never underssstand the choisce that led thisss one to ensssure Cryossanthia would not be a nesst-mother killing her hatchling." His voice cracks, and he sits down.
"Thissss one believesss that thisss missstresss mussst truly be the cold that thisss one ssaw, and that our painsss, our trialsss, will mean sssomething in the undoing of her." Zeke must, because anything else is too painful to bear.
Cryosanthia doesn't trust herself to speak. She can't understand the fall from grace Seldan describes, the sacrifice Zeke made to save her. Even as she holds her own injuries she knows the others bear ones as bad, in a different way. Her mate the most, but even Seldan must be tortured by the loss of his good friend at the claws of his other friends. Anguish, everywhere.
She sinks down, kneeling on the ground in front of Zeke. "Thank you, for what you took from me, what you did to save me. And I'm sorry Seldan, you have been a good friend, more than I deserve."
"You are right, in your faith Zeke. I wish this one could say for sure, she remembers, but it is clear from the ruins She leaves. She does not understand. She has driven even a vampire insane, turned a demon to generous bargains. This is a purity of coldness unprecedented, the worst of winter. Spring will come, I have faith in that. I'm sorry that at my worst I resemble her, this can only wound you more. After what you were willing to take on for me, for my stupid impulses and gambles."
Seldan nods soberly at Zeke's statement that he's already working on it. "If it comes to that, I would have you kill me ere I am forsworn. But I, too, choose to have faith that it will not come to that, for you have the right of it. For she does not understand, and it is why she acts as she does. She would own and control all, and does not understand how that may be achieved." Finally, for the first time since she arrived, Seldan actually turns his head to look at Cryosanthia. "Not so, for I would be a friend to all who would stand against Her, and yet have you stood by me as well." Again, he hesitates, things considered and discarded behind his eyes. "I am grateful that you came for Zeke. I did not think you would."
The blue-scaled sith looks up and echoes Seldan's sentiment. "Thisss one did not think you would come either. Thisss one did not truly believe that you could forgive thisss one sssomething ssso wicked." He wags his tail slowly from side to side and touches her wrist with his crystal claw. "You have chosssen thisss one again, and though thisss one will alwaysss feel unworthy of that choisssce... thisss one will endevor to be asss worthy of you ass thiss one endevorsss to be worthy of the Dragonfather."
There is a soft clearing of Zeke's throat and the sith turns toward Seldan. "Ssseldan, it isss cusstom among the People to have sssomeone witness cihuaa; the binding of two together. You are not one of the People, but thisss one would call you kin jussst the sssame. If you would be kin to one sssuch asss thisss one; and be thisss onesss kin for the cihuaa."
"I choose when I read the letter. I wore the ribbon, I searched, I waited. I was coming and I was paralyzed. Everything froze and kept me in myself. I did not trust myself to feel. I love you Zeke, I need to tell you this more, and I know... how hard it is to forgive yourself. I still... struggle, with all I've done, not done, done slowly. I know you both must." Cryosanthia turns her hand over, taking Zeke's claw, her tail also wagging. "You are worthy Zeke, you are beautiful, there is a strength in you that you don't know. You endure so much, you have taken blows far worse than physical."
Cryo looks upwards at Seldan, and nods, "This one would have you witness, yes, our binding together."
The white-scale sith gazes up at her blue-scale mate. A long look that drinks in the sight of him. She inhales, her nostrils flaring, and is calm again. She tilts her head, with a small, sly smile, then looks sideways at Seldan, "Though if you can touch me now Zeke, and mean what I think you do, this witnessing might be more than he wishes to see."
The moment is utterly ruined, though, by Cryosanthia's last remark, for me turns bright pink at the intimation. "I," he coughs, "....is it the custom to do so before witnesses?"
Zeke holds out his crystal claw to Seldan, in a rare show of willingness to touch. To offer this hand to the man who is his kin now. It is a rare thing the bond of kin, and a nearly unheard of thing for a sith-makar to offer it to one not of the People. Zeke however, has always been... different, and he is glad then that his cihuaa is willing to endure this continuing strangeness of his; and even more to embrace it. Her words make the blue-scaled sith reek of embarrassment, but he wags his tail at her in a fond manner. "Perhapsss after we are properly bound and in privacy cihuaa." It is the first time he has called her such out loud, but it's clear that the word fits comfortably in his mouth. He gives Seldan another wag of his tail, and a quick-flash of teeth. "No, kin. Only my cihuaa's wicked humor. Thisss one believesss that in thisss our kindss have sssimilar agreementsss."
He looks at Cryosanthia and lets out a bark of laughter suddenly. "Thisss one isss not going to tell him otherwissse!" Zeke can not help the amusement that spills out of his maw at the idea of leaving poor Seldan with the impression that he would have to witness /that/!
"I tease Seldan. Scents and tents give much away. It is polite custom to 'ignore' what is obviously known in those instances. You turn colours and this always amuses me, it is a joke." Cryosanthia bounces in her crouch, staying low, wobbling her head a little. "I had a thing I wish to show you, my cihuaa. A pool. Closer to Alexandria than here."
Still perhaps just a little discomfited by the teasing, Seldan laughs a little, although he is still a little pink as he reaches to take the crystal claw Zeke offers. "Very well," he offers, clearly relieved. "Yes, humans do the same. One can tell, but it is politely ignored and confined to private spaces." He coughs again, and clearly not knowing the customs, looks to the two of them to lead.
Zeke warmly takes his hand back in good time, noticing the man's discomfort and giving Cryosanthia a reproachful look that is a little too amused to be serious. Still, he takes the time to comfort the paladin. "Come, there isss time yet, and Cryossanthia will wisssh to inform her kin. Thisss one would be glad to sssee what you choossse to sshow thisss one cihuaa." Zeke nearly thumps his tail, moving to put away tea cups which have been largely unused.
Cryosanthia rises, holding on to Zeke's hand. She nods, "This one would invite Faran, and Braelnoir, Ezil and Elly, and oh the list grows so easily. Thank you Seldan, for telling me where to find Zeke. I'm sorry still I did not receive you well."
Her tail sways, her step is light, she starts to lead, "It is a walk. I found it one night, a pool under a waterfall. You can look up and see the water crashing down. It is loud and cool and peaceful, a wonderful place to swim. I hope you will enjoy the experience and it is nice to look at even if one does not."
Boy did matters change swiftly, and yet ... greatly for the better. Seldan smiles, some measure of weight lifted from his own shoulders. "I am pleased that you made use of the information," he answers Cryosanthia quietly. "I would have your forgiveness, for surmising that you hated me, when no such thing was true." He politely ignores the teacups as they are cleared away. "What manner of things are appropriate to show in such cases? Forgive me, for I know but little of your customs, and I see now that I shall learn swiftly. Shall it be something of myself, or ... other things? Places, people?"
"Thisss one will explain ssuch to you, but there isss little you need know in truth. Sssuch thingssss are sssimple becaussse bondsss mussst needsss be sssecret for sssome of our People, or be done quickly." Zeke speaks gently as he finishes his work and after a moment of being led by Cryosanthia lowers his voice to Seldan. "Kin, would you be kind enough to fetch sssome repasst and bring it back to thisss plasce? Thisss one will explain all after thisss one returns. Thisss one thinksss that perhapsss Cryossanthia'ss place isss bessst obssserved with two?" His tail wags behind him, and he lets himself be carried off by her with a little wave to the paladin who he hopes does not mind being left behind... for a time.
-End
Dramatis Personae
-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=- Appearing -=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=- Zeke A blue-scaled sith-makar in white Daeus vestments Seldan Ginger-blonde human in armor wearing Eluna's symbol. Cryosanthia A dashingly tall, elegant white-scaled lizard woman. -=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-- Objects =--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-
Zeke
This sith-makar has scales of a deep blue color, a touch dark particularly toward the extremities but still very clearly blue. Six large sweeping horns adorn Zeke’s head, the forward two are more vertical but those after the first set follow the shape of Zeke’s head with a little sway. There are small scars around the base of each horn, as well as around each claw. Their source seems to be self-inflicted and nearly decorative rather than caused by combat however.
Zeke wears a chain shirt mostly hidden under layers of robes in shades of white and light gray, and is usually hooded in a cloak of the same color. The robes are sheared short just around the hips and cover a pair of white kapri-style pants slit up the side of the leg and tied with a thick midnight-blue string. Zeke also wears an odd arm-slip up the arm that is not made of crystal.
Had that not been mentioned before? Both the left arm and leg of this sith-makar are made of a beautiful crystal that gleams brightly. The arm is bare from the shoulder down for the convenience of getting it in and out of clothing.
Seldan
There is something about him, if one is human.
It is not easy to pin down exactly what, though. He is not the biggest man, despite a warrior's physique, just shy of six feet tall with a frame more closely resembling that of a gymnast than that of a brawler. Fair as a spring day, with hair equally balanced between ginger and blonde that is grown out of a military cut to fall in his eyes if not disciplined. Ice-blue eyes with blonde lashes hold wisdom and kindness, set into features that are even, straight, and strong. But - in certain lights, and at certain times, humans might almost see in this Eldanar man a glimpse of what a warrior of the Millennium Kingdom might once have looked like.
The warrior theme is carried again in the full platemail that he wears, its finish not a bright polish so much as a shimmer that recalls moonlight when under bright light, and quiescence in shadow. Over the platemail hangs an open, sleeveless robe of midnight-blue with moon-silvery edging and celestial symbols and creatures picked out in silver thread adorning it, and a steel pendant bearing the symbol of a crescent and sphere. A set of gold bracers, depicting celestial symbols that match the symbols on the robe, encircle his wrists.
He wears multiple belts, one of ornate silver links, another a beaten leather affair with attachments for weapons. A longsword hangs from this, from a sheath on his left hip with an ornately-carved pommel and a guard designed in an ancient style, and a much newer-looking heavy mace on his right hip. A belt pouch completes the contents of the leather belt, and a sturdy cloak over all in midnight blue bears the crescent-and-sphere of Eluna picked out in a mosaic of thousands of tiny silver crystals on the back. A simple, unadorned cloak pin holds it in place. Over his back, the top of an elkhorn, wood, and steel longbow is visible, along with a quiver of arrows made of red leather and trimmed in white fur.
Cryosanthia
For those who have known her, Cryo is older, much older. Gone is the light on her feet, heavy in the fray, whimsical lizard girl. There is no trace of the fading youngling features which betrayed her youth, her lithe build, her playful exagerated expressions. She looks like her mother might, bigger overall with larger horns, more scale plates, a stronger keratin crest and fearsome talons. Even her gory tattoos have vanished. The Cryo you knew is gone. In a seeming instant.
For those who meet her afresh, Cryosanthia is an elegant sith-makar woman in the first year of her second century. She radiates confidence, a deep power from within. Her scales are a brilliant white, highlighted by ones which are the palest of glacial blues. These pale scales trace out the scars she used to bear, her hide is restored. She bears two fantastic patterns of these, one on her chest, the other completely covering her back from crest to tailtip. When the light hits right, one sees the dragon within. Her bearing is intense, her motions minimal grace. Two horns sweep back from her brow. Her eyes are like glittering saphhire gems, and when she blinks her eyelids have the glacial blue to them as well. She wears a white layered robe, cut for her species, with shimmering blue piping, highlights and whorls. She carries no weapons, and still keeps a tiny bag close to her heart.
For those who know the story, Cryo has been changed, physically and fundamentally by her experiences. She is a lifetime older, but a human lifetime. Still young for a sith-makar, she has centuries to go. Cryosanthia grew into herself under the fae Queen and is the only one to return with memories. These are, sadly, disrupted and Cryo struggles to reconnect with herself, her body, and friends she hasn't seen in decades. Alien at times even to the sith-makar, her heritage is written on her scales, along with her spells.
Cryosanthia, Speaker of the Sith-Makar.