Shamaness or Historian

The Fire crackles hotly, and the hallowed air of Mictlan protects those who wish to avoid the fading year's chill. Iuitl can be found seated before the fire, gazing into the dancing embers in thought. She stares into it intently as if searching for something among the coals and sticks and ash. Her feathers occasionally sway as the warm air billows from the flames. A raven sits on her shoulder, eyes closed, apparently asleep.

The sound of little feet draws near, numerous little feet. The horde of younglings, a multi-coloured collection of scaled and feathered Sith, flows around the solitary and stationary, feathered fire searcher. A few pause to peer curiously at Iuitl, before moving to catch up with the others. "He is around somewhere.", one of the voices say as the horde disappears into the distance.

It falls quiet for a time, before a coppery-scaled Sith settles down a pace away from the feather'd one. "Peace... on your nesst.", he intones quietly, sounding slightly strained of breath.

The black-scale seemingly doesn't look up from her introspection, but a twitch of her tail indicates she's aware they're nearby. They know better than to interrupt her meditations. She's not shy about clicking her teeth at them and making scary noises. When the coppered one appears, she lifts her head, and then cranes her view to search for the children in the vicinity. Then back up to him.

"Hatchling duty?" she speaks up in her raspy tone that befits her faux-sickly appearance. "Peace. I am trying to divine something from the Flame. Answers evade my eyes. Sit with me? Maybe the flame abhors solitude."

The coppery one's expression is one of mirth. Humour.

"Not hatchling duty. Necesssarily. They have learned that one travelss to Alexandria, and returnss with tassty experiencess. One hass tried insstilling patience. One hass, thuss far, been only modesstly successsful."

Geir shifts about, settling in a more comfortable position on his side. His tail thwaps the ground once, and then lays still, the tip curled slightly upwards.

"The ansswers are often evassive. One will sit and join in contemplation."

"I have... questions." She seems to be deliberate about her speech patterns, going painfully slow sometimes and purposefully clipping the hissing noises. It can seem halting and awkward.

Iuitl thumbs the haft of the longspear on her lap, looking down at it with lidded eyes. "I am not a formal Shaman. Not ... initiated, proven. I have wandered much, lost in purpose. I was hoping the fire would give me an answer about what I should do. That the secrets of my blood would arise from the light and tell me." She makes an animated gesture to the flames, which crackle enigmatically before her.

"I could never find my Memory among the flames. Have you ever tried?"

"Questionss are universsal, one hass found in travel." The copper-scale draws a lengthy breath, and lets it out slowly.

"You sshould not feel.. any less a shaman. To be proven is ssimply to experience life's eventss. Trust yoursself and do. In time, you shall find that people will come to you. To seek advice. As sshaman."

Geir's expression has turned increasingly contemplative and he blinks. "Tssa. One.. I, have found Memory in battle. The fires of battle have illuminated.. shined a light on that which we all seek. Meditating on the fire has brought me peace, at timess, but not ansswers. This is not to say that you cannot or will not, however."

In his reply, Iuitl finds a surprise. She blinks owlishly and cocks her head. "'Fires of battle'... it is not just the Flames, then? Is there a story to that you could tell? What did you see? Feel?"

She leans in, deeply interested, mouth open the way a young Sith's would be. Her Raven cracks open an eye, and then puffs up his feathers and tucks his face under a wing.

They say that the eyes are the window to the soul, and the copper-scale's eyes are full of different expressions. Geir huffs after a length of silence.

"You ask much. Forgive me."

He shifts in position, sitting upright, his tail curving about, and resting at the side of his leg as he moves to sit cross-legged... Somewhat of an achievement in metal armor.

"I have lived over a hundred Summers, having seen and done much in this time. One.. I.. have some shame in this, and moments of fleeting valour, and honour. I have been broken, and raised up again. The story is ... terrible." There is some pain, there, in his countenance.

"I was, for a time, a ssslave. Owned. By a wealthy lord in Charn. I will not dwell on or impart knowledge of that time. Suffice it to say, when numerous Sith attempted escape and ssucceeded, the guards were made to pay. With our flessh. And minds. And souls. It was then I decided to stand up straight. Fight. I used their weapons against them. And when I believed the end was near... She came to me. The Death-Singing Dragon.

Geir pauses at length, completely motionless, his eyes seeing .. something.

"It wass my end. But I was not yet finished, she said to me. I was to be in her service. And so. I, too, escaped that day."

Iuitl watches. She doesn't flinch away for even a moment. It's intense, like she's memorizing his words for later recounting, and it seems she may do so in a positive light the way she responds to it. She nods and gives him some silence to recover from touching the old wound, and for her to absorb the knowledge given.

"This is important to know..." She strokes her jaw in thought. "I have not been visited like this. It is an honor that She would come to you... but not an empty honor. You fought for it." She bashfully tilts her head and curls her tail. "You know this already..."

"Thank you." She nods to him, and reaches out to offer her hand in a brief gesture of community. If accepted, she'll give him a squeeze.

The copper-scale does indeed extend his hand to hers. "One is named Geir.", he says quietly. "It is pleasing to make your acquaintance."

"I am happy that you find it informative. Worth knowing. It iss pleassing to hear such."

"Iuitl, of the Tlanextic," she introduces. "Geir. I will remember your story. May I write it down? I will be making records for our people. The softskins are not the only ones that deserve a library of their stories."

She wiggles her tail tip in a cat-like excitement, waiting for his reply whether good or bad.

"Iuitl.", he says softly. "You may do so, if it pleasess you." His eyes stray to the wiggling tail tip, an expression of mirth on his face. "One would wissh to read such records, once you have them organized. Would you allow it?"

"Yes, yes, that is why they'll be made. All could view them and see the steps our blood has taken into the future," Iuitl says, passion welling up in her as she talks about this. "I must find a magic to record these stories easily, that will take time. It may be years before you see these records finally collected."

Geir strokes his cheek thoughtfully, and cants his head slightly.

'Are you assembling these records alone? One might suggest taking in others who might ease the burden. This is, of course, asssuming one has not thought of such already."

"Ah... Not many listen to me. But... I will seek others," Iuitl responds. She isn't a force of charisma but she doesn't seem abrasive either. "I will need to speak with the tribes and see if there are any that want to do such a thing. Knowledge collection is dull work."

"Jusst sso. I would offer assissstance, then." He offers a smile, with an appropriate amount of teeth. Approximately.

"It doess not have to be dull. You may find it to be much more exciting than you expected. You might need a few sstrong arms and thosse weighed down with spells and magical meanss."

Iuitl looks briefly surprised by this offer! She looks this helpful reptile over and nods briefly to him. "First, we will need to find more willing to help. There are others of our people in the region that could be pried away for a time for the purpose. Swiftclaws will be needed... then regular trips to Am'Shere to collect knowledge. Some tribes may not cooperate... the Teacher's influence is already drawing many away from this place."

Geir raises a hand gently, and nods slowly. "Our people are sstubborn and bound by habit and ritual, superstition and hierarchy. What you proposse will likely be your life'ss work, and likely, ssomeone will ssucced you and continue your work after your death."

"Let us proceed sslowly, at firsst. Gather knowledge of hidden placess, and of individualss. Write your sstory firsst. Sso others will know where thiss comes from. I will find you otherss to help you, and you can write their sstories too. Sssoon, you will see, otherss who come to you, unbidden."

"Yes. A Memory for us to hold in our hands..." Iuitl's tail is going MAD and she looks to be positively glowing with excitement. She seems to have discovered her purpose here. "Thank you...!" And like an excited, reverent iguana, she nods to him several times in quick jerks of her chin.

The copper-scale has that mirthful expression once more.

"I have but one requesst. Pleasse. Do not lose that excited feeling you have right now. It is ... hmm. What word? Beautiful? Hmm. Yesss. It is beautiful on you. Your excitement is... infectious." He chuckles deeply.

Iuitl's mouth clicks shut and she looks down and away. Embarrassment is clear. It's clear she's very young for an adult Sith-Makar in this moment. She doesn't take compliments well...!

She's very quiet. Her tail, though, makes brushy noises as it keeps wiggling.

Geir tries very hard to not chuckle. And succeeds. "One meant no teasing. It is refresshing to ssee such enthusiasm."

He makes a fist and bumps his chest, over his heart. "It givess me... Hope."