Life Without Light

The wind has died down near sunset, and all is quiet in the mountain shelter that Seldan and Zeke share. A rustic thing it is, shaped to become part of the mountainside, with a few pillars inside to hold it up. The hearth and floor have been formed and finalized, and a few rugs and similar things have been brought in against the chill. Cots and blankets for two, and the beginnings of a rustic cottage setup are taking shape. The vent for the hearth has been tunneled through the side of the mountain, so that the smoke emerges in a different place than the actual residence.

This evening, a fire is blazing in the hearth, flooding the small space with warmth, and Seldan is sitting nearby, an iron pot of stew bubbling on the edge of the fire, a kettle hung from a hook over the fire. He sits on a simple wooden stool, a pile of branches about one finger thick each by his feet. His arms and armor are laid aside, and he sits now in only shirt and trousers and boots, using a long knife to sharpen each one of the branches into wickedly sharp points and take off knots and crooked ends.

There's a quiet knock on the door, and then a moment later Zeke enters. A gust of cold wind slips in with him, but he's quick to close the door behind himself. He is dressed as he ever seems to be in his cleric vestments, with his armor underneath. Some of Seldan's caution taken to heart in the sith-makar. He seems... weary, but that's not surprising given that he's been away from their shared abode for some time now.

"Peasssce on your nessst kin." He murmurs quietly, sniffing the room. His stomach gives a nearly silent rumble, and he ignores it though he does head toward the fireplace slowly. Holding out his flesh-and-blood claw toward it indicates that he is more seeking warmth than sustenance at the moment. Slowly, he sinks down into a seated position, relaxing by millimeters.

The voice is enough to make Seldan's head immediately snap up. "Peace on your nest, kin." The knife and the wood in his hand promptly hit the stone floor, and he stands, moving over to where Zeke's tea set is. He's learned by now. "That you return here says good things. Are you well?" A box, two cups, and the pot Seldan scoops up and brings towards the fire. "There is stew, that only I myself have touched."

That Zeke does not get his own tea set up, or even move to assist Seldan in doing so, says much of his state of mind, and yet what he says in response is perhaps even more indicative. "Thisss one doesss not wissh to eat." He offers quietly, both claws settled before him. Close enough to the fire for warmth, but not so close that he's baking himself. "How goesss your hunt?"

That is - not good. Seldan's expression goes stone sober, but he just nods and sets down the lot on the edge of the hearth. There appears to already be water heating, but with a murmured cantrip, he lowers the kettle to finish heating what is probably water within. Then, he turns towards Zeke, and mutely offers him the box. It is a box of tea, and the request, though unspoken, is clear enough. _Choose._

"I gird for war," he answers simply. "I was unaware that the Mourner was - is," he corrects himself, "friends with your patient. She has agreed to aid me, and I await her word that she has gathered her requirements for the scry. I mean to trap him in his lair, but first I must scout it and ensure that doing so will not attract other attention. I know not where this lair might be, and it would not do to have a bear come looking for dinner."

After a moments hesitation Zeke is lured by the faint scent of teas to looking at Seldan's offerings. He picks the most pungent of the teas. A mint and orange mix that is quite fresh. He retracts his claw after pointing to it, the scent of the teas making him feel more at home. More relaxed. He knows a fresh cup will do even more for him. "Thisss isss wisssdom Ssseldan. Thisss one apologizesss, thiss one left out much of the persssonal knowledge of thisss onesss patient to protect their privascy."

"I take no offense. The Mourner and Master Telamon spoke his name to me, but I did not pry, and have no desire to do so." Seldan takes the tea indicated and pours some into the pot, then sets tea and box aside and gestures again to the kettle. Mimicking the movements of moving and pouring, he draws the heated kettle off the fire turns his entire focus to pouring it into the pot, then returning it to its hook to keep warm. Zeke will know that this activity requires his undivided attention.

When the kettle is returned to its hook, and the tea is steeping, only then does he turn back to Zeke, sit down on the floor nearby cross-legged, and silently offer both hands.

Though Zeke watches Seldan attentively as the man goes about his task, he makes no move to assist, just... relaxing by inches. His acute sense of smell tells him that tea is being brewed, and this is good. Yet... He hesitates when Seldan offers his hands. Then two claws reach out, touching human flesh with gentleness and care. "Do you remember kin? When thisss one wasss newly returned, the pain that thisss one causssed you?" It's impossible for him to speak the memory without regret.

"You know that I hold no grudge. The fault was mine. I had felt it not my place to remove those who distressed you, and yet did none other do so." Seldan simply allows the sith-makar to hold his hands, without hesitation. "Fear me not. You may always do so, and does it happen again, it is a small burden only, and one readily remedied."

"Thisss one knowsss that now, though thisss one isss hopeful that in no way will thisss one ever bring you harm again." Zeke's voice is a gentle thing, and he closes his eyes briefly. Remembering other times, other places. "The blood and bread. Thisss one wasss sso afraid that thisss one had failed. Failed and eaten Kira. There were sssome that lacked faith in thisss one, thought that thisss one had become Forgotten. And thisss one could not _remember_."

Startled by the sudden outpouring, Seldan sits up more fully, allowing Zeke to hold his hands as he will. This is an anchor to the one who may as well be his brother, a bond wrought of mutual pain and mutual support, and never will he withdraw it, if he can avoid doing so. "Never did you fail. This do I know. I sorrow that others were - less than kind."

He lowers his eyes, remembering that day in the Draco Solis' Temple only too clearly. The chaos and utter lack of regard for the place as a place of healing. "It is in my mind that that one less lacked faith in you and more lacked good sense."

Zeke opens his eyes and lowers his head. "Thisss one doess not mean to burden you, for you bear enough already. Yet thisss one... isss full of memory thisss day. Full of dark thoughtsss that weigh the mind down and leaden the heart." He blinks, eyes nictating slowly. That odd double-blink of his which holds so many meanings. The sith sighs. "You and Malik sssaved thisss one. You and he sssaw thisss one floundering; refusing to eat, and took thisss one into the wildss where thisss one wasss sssafe. Thisss one will never forget the kindnesss of kin."

"You do not burden, Zeke. Never do you burden. Speak freely, for is this not what kin are for? To be there in one's need?" Seldan's tone settles into that even, steady patience, that sober consideration where his thoughts are his own, and where the floor is Zeke's should he desire it. "I did only what any who care would do, Zeke, for I have learned half of the secret that you and Malik share. That a journey back from such a place does not welcome dictation of what shall be, or what should be. There is only what was, what is, and what is needful. You walked a road that I knew not, and it was Mal who showed that way. That I could not tell you how to return to the road. I could only offer clues to help you find your own way."

"Thisss one never had kin until you Ssseldan. Thiss isss very unusssual for one of the People. Both to be with-out, and to have a soft-skin asss kin." His tail gives a rueful little flicker and he looks at Seldan fondly. "You did what wasss necessssary, what wasss good, and what wasss kind. Even now."

Zeke bows his head slightly again, looking at their joined hands. Seldan's soft flesh and his own dark blue scales. "Thisss one isss full of thoughtss of the Tower. Of the thingsss that thisss one can remember. Thisss one knowss that the sssource of thessse memoriesss isss born becaussse thisss one can bear them now, becaussse thiss one iss ssafe. Becaussse thiss one healssss one who bearsss sssuch sscarsss asss well."

"Then speak them now. All that you would tell. It was not my wish to pry, and I knew enough then to do what must be done. Then, it was enough." Seldan does not make any effort to pull away, but does look over at the tea. "Would you have tea, ere you begin?" he asks.

The blue-scale blinks, withdrawing his hands and nodding to Seldan. "Yesss. Tea sssoothesss thisss one, and if thisss one will be sssharing wordsss... thissss one may be in need of sssuch thingsss." He shakes his head. "Thiss one is old, to be wissshing you were one of the People, that we could ssshare blood and memory."

_I thought perhaps that would be so._ Seldan merely nods and turns to pour the tea into two cups, remembering all too clearly what happened when Zeke was in distress with no tea, and Seldan's hands in his. He would never _dream_ of saying so to Zeke, but that had been very painful, and he did not care to repeat the experience.

When the teacups are poured, Seldan offers one to Zeke and takes the other for himself. "That, I fear, I cannot do. I - do not presume further upon the generosity of the People." His eyes lower at that.

Zeke's tail swishes. Amusement at Seldan's words and appreciation of the tea. "Thank you." He replies, taking the tea carefully and holding it in both claws. He takes a deep breath of the scent. "It would be easssier. No need to remember, only to ssshare. Then you would know, sssee through thisss onesss eyesss. But perhapsss ssuch thingsss are better left unssseen."

His gaze is somewhat distant and he takes a sip of the tea to steady himself. "Thisss one could ssspend the ressst of a life-time for one of your people telling the sstory, but that isss not necesssary. What bothersss thisss one mossst, isss not the pain, not the many ssscarsss that thisss one bearsss from it, but that thisss one could not..."

Zeke fails here, shuddering with remembrance. "Thisss one could not _feel_ the Dragonfather."

Seldan had taken his own teacup between his hands, folding his legs to sit cross-legged on the stome floor next to Zeke, just listening. He says nothing at all, lets Zeke talk as he will. At the last one, though, he indraws a breath at the very idea. "And yet you held. You never lost faith," he murmurs. "Indeed are you far stronger than I knew." He sits a moment, simply gazing at Zeke. "Truly are you a marvel."

Zeke ducks his head, embarrassed by Seldan's comments. "Thisss one lossst faith, but not in Him. In thiss one. Many timesss thisss one thought that thisss one had lossst Him, becaussse thisss one had fallen prey to sssome illusssion." His eyes tighten. "Being free of the tower made that worsse. Sssso many trying to forsce thisss one to eat. Ssso eager. They were all illusssionsss to thisss one. Thisss one fearsss that for a time, thisss one hated many of our alliesss."

The words fall on Seldan's ears like sharpened rocks, each one stinging the mind awake. Now. _Now_ Seldan fully understands, what had happened that day. Those days. He remembered all too well. Silently, he chastises himself. He should have been more forceful, but - that will not help Zeke now. Firmly, he forces that thought down into a dark corner of his mind for further grappling later.

There's nothing to say, though, not besides, "I cannot fault you for such hatred,” _knowing that._ He inclines his head. So many thoughts and comparisons in his mind, but none will help Zeke now. Zeke does not need his quandaries. Now is the time to listen.

"Sssuch emotionsss are difficult. Anger... it feelsss wrong, but it isss natural." Zeke sips his tea and shakes his head. "Thiss one... Will ussse thisss pain, thessse memoriesss Ssseldan. To make sssure that thisss onesss patient isss better cared for. The wisssdom you usssed, the tricksss of healing thisss one knowsss. It will _not_ happen again!"

Such vehemence from Zeke is an unusual thing, but still Seldan does not move, does not flinch, ruling himself with an iron fist to keep himself still. "Do you fear that your patient will become distressed and injure another?" The question is gentle.

Zeke calms himself, ever striving to be his usual calm self. Yet this is his kin, and he trusts that Seldan will understand if he... releases some of the emotions stirring to life inside himself at this unusual set of circumstances. "Him-ssself. He issss..." Zeke looksss for the word but can not find it. "Very badly hurt ssstill. Hiss woundss will never fully be healed. Thisss one thinksss him more likely to injure him-ssself than another, but either isss sstill posssible."

Seldan draws in a very slow breath, inclining his head in understanding. _That's even worse._ "Even so." Recalling the litany that Zeke had given him makes him seethe with fury once more, but it's a more muted seething. "There is none better than you to aid such a one, Zeke, for I know that you live with pain as well. Magic can only do so much."

"Indeed." Zeke looks at his tea cup. "Thisss one ssshould return to the patient, but thisss one mussst get sssome ressst firsst. Will you wake thisss one in a few hoursss?" He looks at Seldan hopefully.

"That shall I do. There is stew, should you change your mind in the matter of food. Forget not to care for yourself, Zeke, for where will your patient be, do you forget to eat and fall ill?" There is a very small smile that Seldan wears, a keen understanding that he is doing a thing that Zeke dislikes, and yet, it needs to be said. "I shall wake you. Finish your tea, and I shall put up the dishes."

Zeke nods, swishing his tail in amusement and fondness for his kin. He finishes the tea as he is bid. "Thisss one will eat upon waking. There isss... too much on the mind now, but it will be fressh when thiss one wakesss." He rises slowly to his feet and heads toward the sleeping area. "You are good kin Ssseldan. Thisss one isss grateful."

Seldan merely looks after Zeke as he goes, and for a moment, looks down at the stone, drawing in a deep breath or two. "I am ever at your back, Zeke. Rest well." He pushes himself to his feet and sets about gathering cups and pot, wrangling dishes, and with a quick spell cleaning all and setting it aside. The stew is set to be kept warm in the pot, and when all is done, he quietly returns to the pile of branches left forgotten by the stool.

He'll wake Zeke up eventually.

-End