A Swiftclaw Needs Love

It's a fairly busy day in the temple district in spite of the surprisingly dour weather. There are gray clouds in the sky blotting out the sun, and in spite of that fact it's unusually warm and humid. People walk about to and fro, most of them coming or going to the temples but there's some through traffic heading north or toward the bridge. One person is not making their way through the district. There is a sith-makar in dark robes sitting on one of the benches which he has - miraculously - to himself. His tail flicks behind him as he watches the crowd go by, his tail giving away that he has blue scales, but his robes hide just about everything else about him.

There is also a loud individual moving through the disrtict. Someone shouting something. As it grows closer it becomes more intelligible as "NUTS!" Then again, "NUTS WHERE ARE YOU!!??" It continues to go on and it isn't long before the three foot tall Gobber woman shouting at the top of her lungs is visible. People are clearly annoyed with her as she moves through the divine district, but she ignores them all completely until she happens to stop near that sith-makar and make her way over to pull herself up onto the bench. It really is an invasion of personal space, too.

"I don't know where he went. Nuts was just gone when I got back from lunch and I followed his trail as far as I could but he just won't answer! Someone must have stolen him. They'll probably use him for spare parts in some terrible experiment and I'll never see him again!" Zinth just goes on, not seeming to care that she's rambling at a complete stranger.

There's a distinct moment of discomfort from the sith-makar, but... not from his new companion. He tries to eek over a little bit, but there's nowhere to go unless he wants to end up butt-first on the ground. So he holds himself stiffly instead, swallowing loudly and his tail flicking madly behind him like it might be having a siezure though he looks fine himself. "Ahem." He makes the sound as politely as he can. "Um... What isss a... Nutsss?"

His words are heavily accented and tells clearly that he's spent most of his time in Am'shere, the home of his people. It also is tinted heavily with the discomfort that his tail shows though... such things are difficult for the softskin races to tell. "If you find it quickly enough, perhapsss it will be alright. Have you ssssearched the templessss?"

Obviously oblivious to the discomfort of the sith-makar, Zinth moves with him as he scoots down the bench. It's like a small dog taking away a big dog's bed. "Nuts! He...it...I don't know what gender Nuts identifies as. He's a machine. And doesn't talk. I've never asked, but I will when I find hi-errr, Nuts again." The Gobber turns and holds up her hands to show the size, about a foot and a half long and a foot high from the dimensions she tries to convey, "Nuts is my invention. I just started so it's really small, but eventually I'll make a real one. I suppose it's more of a prototype! Looks like a puppy." Smiling up at the much larger person, she adds, "It's super cute. And shoots out lasers and fire and bombs, too!"

Flick-flick goes Zeke's tail to no avail. He has nowhere else to go, and it would be far too rude for his tastes to actually just stand up and leave. His eyes nictate, but the hood of his cloak covers that for the most part. Most people don't bother looking beneath it to see his green eyes in any case, and this particular one hasn't noticed any of his other nervous ticks so... "A... metal dog?" Zeke finally manages to speak, but he can not imagine such a contraption so he only manages to sound nervous and confused. "Oh my. You sssshould find it and quickly if it isss ssso dangeroussss."

The angle that Zinth has doesn't exactly make it easy to see Zeke's face at all. It's mostly darkness, hood and the lower part of the face if any at all. Her runs a hand through her hair and pushes up her goggles a little bit more as they slip. "I haven't looked in the temples, though. Do you think they'd mind me looking? I mean, he doesn't listen well. I think I might have crossed some of his auditory processing wires." Huffing a little bit, Zinth notes, "He's really a clockwork dog. Not really alive. And he can't fire those things off! I have to do it for him, but I'm worried he's scared or stolen." Scrambling up so she can stand at a little bit more to eye-level with Zeke, she states, "My name is Zinth. You probably don't like talking to strangers, so now I'm not a stranger!" Maybe she noticed something.

Zeke stills like a snake in the grass. That kind of stillness that only lizards have. It's all totally instinctual and he blinks slowly down at Zinth. "Peasssse on your nesssst." The words come out slowly and carefully. Measured. "Thisss one issss Zeke."

His own name comes out oddly accented, as if the z is some other letter entirely. He doesn't move, doesn't breathe beyond those words.

"Peas on my nest.." Zinth murmurs to herself, then she brightens and exclaims, "Peace on your nest, too!" She's not measured. At all. It's full bore constantly. "Nice to meet you. I don't know that I've really talked with one of your kind before! I live in Gobberton and have stayed there most of my life. Now I'm out on my own and making it big!" Like losing her main project.

"Were you busy or something? Am I interrupting you?" She finally asks, reaching out to put a tiny hand on Zeke's shoulder if he doesn't move or stop her. "I mean, I can leave you alone and go search the temples for poor little Nuts."

Zeke moves. He moves like lightning; skittering off his seat and falling entirely off the bench in a lump on the ground. His fall sends his cloak askew, flashing his artificial limbs for the world to see. Both his left arm and leg are made of the most beautiful clear crystal. Every inch of them is lovely to the eye. Not unlike his carefully coifed scales in fact, but people rarely notice carefully maintained scales. "Ahhhhh!"

The blue-scaled sith quickly tries to disentangle himself from the ground, but his body moves in little jerky motions that make it harder for him to get upright. Landing on one's tail does tend to set one off-balance after all!

The quick movement makes Zinth let out a little cry of surprise and her hands snap up to shield her face and body as best she can. She obviously expects some kind of physical attack! Yet after a moment of no pain and the sounds that are made by Zeke, she starts to straighten and look at the creature. "Oh. My. Gods." She murmurs quietly, "You are SO beautiful!" Immediately, her impulse seems to be to go down to Zeke to help, but she stops herself and as her brows knit together she asks, "Do you want any help? I'm sorry if I did something I shouldn't have." Her hands wring together slowly, anxious.

"Thisss one issss fine!" The sith-makar rolls over onto his side and then carefully, slowly gets to his feet. Once there he blinks at Zinth. Blinks again. This is made obvious by the fact that his hood has fallen down as well, revealing his green eyes and the three long dark horns that arc over his head. He cuts a striking figure especially given his height and the breadth of his shoulders. Zeke is not the sort of sith-makar that can easily hide himself, but the dark cloak does wonders for that. "B-beautiful? Thisss one issss.... Not beautiful." His tail gives a little flick behind him and it seems for the moment at least that he's forgotten to hide himself behind his cloak.

"Okay..." Zinth notes, not sounding like she really believes Zeke at the moment, but what can she do? She's all of three feet tall and weights as much as half his tail most likely. She does look up in awe at the sith-makar, then her eyes widen at his claim. "What are you talking about? Those scales are stunning! And the crystal...whatever that is...Ohmygods!" Huffing, she folds her arms across her lower abdomen, "If I knew how to get that effect I'd have Nuts looking just like that stuff! And if I could do detail to add scales that looked like yours?! I'd be covering my Titan armor in them because they look -amazing-!" And at that she throws her hands up in the air unable to control herself any longer.

Zeke's mouth opens and then just kind of hangs there. She mentions his crystal limbs though and he ducks his head, quickly draws his cloak around himself and looks around as though seeking to see if anyone has noticed. Only her it seems. He doesn't relax though, standing by the bench with his tail still for the moment. "Thissss one... thankssss your complementssss. Thisss one..." One might think he has /never/ been complemented before. He shifts his weight subtly and looks at her with the sides of his eyes. "It... doessss not bother you?"

The response she gets that time makes her gentle face absolutely bloom with a smile, her ears dipping a bit. "You're welcome! Positivity! Look for beauty in all things! And really, -you- make it easy to see." She insists. "Why would it bother me? If I lost a limb I'd try to replace it with something, but mine would be mechanical and not as gorgeous as yours." Offering that genuine smile, Zinth asks, holding out a hand, "Friends?" Apparently Nuts is forgotten for now.

The blue-scaled sith swishes his tail once. "It bothers sssome." He says this uncomfortably, eyes darting away and then back again. Then those green orbs flicker down to her hand and his tail gives a little flick at the end. Swish, and flick. "Ssssince we are friendssss; thissss one doesss not touch."

Zeke admits this easily, as if it should be matter of fact to everyone. He does nod his head very low however, offering a short swish of his tail to boot. "You remind thisss one of another friend. Sssshe too, issss very nice to thisss one."

"Not me!" Zinth reiterates, though when there is a point made about not touching, she snatches her hand back. "Since we are friends, I will not touch you." There's a promise made and a faint nod of her head as if she were reaffirming that to herself.

"I hope hope it is a good thing." Zinth comments as she moves to the other side of the bench and sits down again, giving Zeke plenty of room of his bench. "We should always be nice to one another. Being mean gets no one anywhere." Well, that's not exactly true, but maybe she's just naive. "Sorry I touched you, Zeke. I didn't know. I can be kind of handsy."

With Zinith seated Zeke's tail gives another little swish, a much different movement than the flick which happens mostly at the tip. She sits down, and he politely joins her though he sits down much more slowly. Careful not to flash his crystal limbs though it's more than that. "It issss a very good thing. Ascedia... Thisss one met her a lot like you, and ssshe issss one of my bessst friendsss now. Almosst kin."

He seems thoughtful a moment and then looks down at Zinth. "Thissss one forgivessss. You did not know. Thissss one thinksss that it issss a sssoftssskin thing to be sssso... handssssy." An unfamiliar word which Zeke says carefully.

"Then I hope I get to meet her sometime. I like good people." Of course, she doesn't really know Zeke to tell if he's good, but he doesn't seem mean or bad so far! "If I can find Nuts I'll introduce him to you. You might not like him, though. He can be a little annoying." She muses, glancing around the district a little hoping she might see him. "So your people don't like to be touched? Is there a reason why? I find it comforting to get a hug. Or...you know, like be close to someone I really like."

"Perhapsss thisss one will introduce you. Though your pathsss are likely to meet in any cassse." He nodss once and considers the loss of her pet. He of course has no idea where it might be found. "Thisss one can help you sssearch the templesss. Thisss one issss... A ssservant of the Dragonfather."

Her final question leaves him stymied a long moment, looking down at his hidden legs rather than anywhere else. "It issss not the People. It isss thisss one. This one issss... Maksur." It's a name, or has the sound of one, but also it sounds like a word. Like it has meaning. In draconic it does.

"That'd be great!" Zinth exclaims, almost looking like she's going to bounce out of her seat. "We might find him. I don't know. I can always make another one and name it Bolts. I have the schematics." At the mention of the Dragonfather and the Maksur term, her head tilts a bit and ears perk forward a bit more. "I'm not very familiar with the Dragonfather. And what does Maksur mean?"

"The Dragonfather isss how the People call... Daeus." He says the name hesitantly, but nods afterwards to himself. "Maksur... it issss thisss onesss true name. The word ussssed to call by the one that gave thisss one life. It means... broken in our tongue." Zeke is looking far away at the people passsing by. "Thisss one wasss born with-out limbs, and sssso was named Maskurwarayuslih. Broken beyond repair."

Listening intently, those large ears are angled towards Zeke without wavering and the rings and metal in them shine. "Wow.." She murmurs quietly, "So you like totally showed them, huh?! You're totally not broken now and I'd say are even better. Yep, totally." She nods to herself more than anyone else and there'd likely be no changing her mind given her previous comments.

"Ssa! Girl--" Laughing, the sith'makar reaches up and grasps the giant head. It belongs to a large raptor--a swiftclaw--ten feet or more in height. The swift wears barding and bosal, and shakes her head as her companion grabs it.

Svarshan grips, holding gently tight as the swift attempts to tug away. Tug, tug, tug! and on the third he lets go. Her head goes high and she pauses. Pauses as the great eyes narrow. She looks away. This indignity never happened.

EVER. The two have an air of old friends, and old companions, a mount and rider who've been together for some time. Svarshan looks to her with a smile, and then looks over. A slow blink. Another slow blink at the sight of the gobber and sith-makar. The inner lids flicker.

Zeke can not help but stare down at Zinth. He blinks several times before looking out across the space where people are moving to and fro. His tail swishes and flicks in turns. He isn't sure how to explain. "Thissss one thanksss you again for your kind wordsss." Yes, definately looking away. Away and noticing Svarshan standing there looking at them. Suddenly his tail stills and he looks again like a lizard freezing on a branch. He makes an odd sound in the back of his throat and nods finally to the other sith-makar. "Peasssse on your nessst Sssvarssshan." Had the other sith /heard/?

Zinth seems to find Zeke a bit hard to understand given the way she looks at him. The freezing and subtle body movements are foreign to her, but it seems to just roll right off of her. She glances over to where Zeke's gaze goes and her hands dart up to cover her mouth. Clearly she's in awe of the swiftclaw. "I'm gonna make one of those out of metal." She whispers, though it's more of a loud hiss the way she says it. Svarshan is totally ignored.

"Peasse to you both," the sith-makar says, warmly. Svarshan reaches up as though to grab the switfclaw's head again--and she jerks away, looking offended that he might DARE, DARE such a gesture! There is a snort. There is a look-away, a lifting of chin.

"Peasse to you," he says again. "Svarshan, of the warrior-caste. Honor to the Ssilver Empress and. The Dragonfather." With that line, he names his allegiance--to Daeus, and the Silver Empress of Am'shere. Such things might be familiar to folk who'd delt with the sith-makar. Or not. "One heard the. Hands of Ithildin are sseeking to address the. Plague. ...are you of them, sshaman?" he asks of Zeke, though the body language does not leave out the gobber.

Zeke slowly, slowly begins to warm again, to ease up from the freezing. It's a work in progress. He considers the other sith's question seriously. "Thisss one isss not with the Handssss of Ithildin." There is something there in those words, but then. Svarshan knows something of the facts around Zeke. "But thisss one fightsss the plague ass bessst as thisss one can. Perhapssss. Perhapssss, thissss one will work with them yesss?

What? Is someone talking? Zinth slips off the bench she was sitting on and starts to walk towards Svarshan and the swiftclaw. "What is your name?" The Gobber asks, eyes wide as she comes up closer and closer to the creature. There's no sign of any kind of personal space or even self preservation at all. She's all of three feet tall and would make for nothing more than a quick snack to be sure. Even so, Zinth clearly has it in her mind that she wants to pet the large raptor-like creature. "You are such a pretty one...I bet you're proud...does this guy feed you enough? Do you need a snack?" Hopefully not a Gobber.

"The word iss that. They are traveling to old plasses. Ssome ressearch to address the plague," Svarshan offers. The words are rough, but warm--slow from an old injury of some kind. "That iss what one hass heard," he says to Zeke. He glances over at the gobber as the other approaches, though does not seem to mind. Rather--comfort, strength, seems to radiate nearby.

The swiftclaw tilts her head away as though she does not see the gobber, though she /does/ glance that way. She might turn slightly, so the sunlight catches her scales. This close, there are bits of silver and gold mixed with the green. *preen*

The blue-scaled sith nods to Svarshan's words, considering. "Thisss isss what thisss one hass heard asss well. They have other methodsss which have not been tried yet. Thingsss which may aid usss. Have you heard Ssvarssshan, that the hunter-caste comess to Alexandria asss well. The Sssilver Empressss, ssshe hasss ssent much aid here; to ssstop the plague." He doesn't seem quite as pleased about the situation as the words make him sound.

The Gobber's world seems to revolve around the magnificent creature with Svarshan. "My name is Zinth." She tells the swiftclaw, marveling over the scales as they glitter. "Oh my..So pretty! I bet you'd like a snack, right?" She reaches into a pocket and pulls out something that smells like meat, but is more like goblin prepared jerky of some sort. There's no telling if it's even edible, but it smells a bit spicy. And was just sitting in her pocket?

The swift looks. The head Turns. The body Follows, and the swiftclaw leans down, with her massive head, and...delicately nibbles at the treat. Nibbles. She permits petting. Permits. Perhaps turns her head just-so so the sunlight catches it. So that glitter happens.

Glitter just happens, sometimes!

Svarshan looks to Zeke, and goes quiet a moment in surprise. "...One had not," he says at length. "Sshaman, thiss is. Good news! Do you know when they. Might arrive?"

Again Zeke hesitates, but Svarshan's words make his tail swish in agreement. "Thissss isss good news, thiss one will be glad of whatever aid they can lend in healing the sssick, or perhapsss ssseeking out the White Tower which hassss eluded usss." He carefully gathers his cloak about himself. "Thisss one hasss heard that they will arrive very sshortly. Within the next week or ssso. Thisss one... The one that gave thisss one life comesss with them."

The Gobber sucks in a breath when that large head leans down and is just so delicate and gentle with the trying of the offering. It almost looks like a religious experience for Zinth. Barely making a sound and reaching out to touch the swiftclaw in a manner that makes it clear that she understands that she is being given permission and it is not something to be taken for granted. Quietly and almost conspiratorially she whispers, "If you want to come live with me I'd polish your scales every day. I'd feed you the best things. I'd make you a harness that shoots lasers at the people you don't like. And bombs if you wanted. And I'd make sure you had the comfiest bed. And I'd hug you whenever you wanted!" As the treat disappears, she shifts it to the small of her hand to let the swiftclaw more easily claim it if desired.

"Hrmmm..." a deep hrrmm, a thoughtful hrrm. "Onsse the ssmall are of age. They go to casste, sshaman. Within your casste, no one elsse may lay claim." There is a sort of sorrow to it. A parent's sorrow--the gift and curse of caste, and children. Svarshan had had seven children of his own, once. He glances at the gobber, but seems distracted by the other conversation.

The swift however, does not. Her eyes light, and she *preeeeens*. She looks at her rider as though to say: Do you see? Do you see? This is the proper way. This is what is expected. I am mighty jungle princess, with golden scales and magnificent teef!

Zeke looks down, clearly embarrassed which those whom are sith-makar or know them can easily attest. He toys with the edge of his cloak, claw wrapped in it as though it is a security blanket. Perhaps it is. "Thissss... isss true. Thisss one hassss been thinking very much of late.... That thisss one ssshould join my cassste-mates. That thisss one ssshould..." It is complicated and not-complicated. It is clear that Zeke does not know how to do the thing that every sith-makar knows naturally. "Thisss one ssshould be a ssshaman after all." He straightens slightly.

"If you can ever escape, I live at.." The Gobber glances at Svarshan as if he were the enemy and whispers the location to the swiftclaw as if she knew where to go. Maybe she understands! "Plus, I am much lighter than him. I bet we could go as fast as the wind and outrun the lightning!" She continues to pet slowly and without hurry, then adds something else, "I'll be sure to keep food on me in case I see you again and you haven't managed to escape yet. Sorry I didn't have more."

"..." the warrior tilts his head to the side. Assurance, warmth pushes towards Zeke. "...one traveled yearss among the ssoftskins," he says at length. "Their company iss good but. ... ..." words. Svarshan is quiet for a time. Then, reaches up to press his claws to his chest. "Casste is /here/. And goess outwards. 'Family' iss the clossest tradesspeak will. Come. You are already sshaman. ...and when you meet them. The other sshamans will. Know and take you. In." The tail flicks, quietly and comes to rest on the earth. He looks to the gobber then, warmly.

Leans down. "Sshe will ssshare words next that. Sshe has never been fed."

The swiftclaw looks away, and huffs.

"Her name iss. Ssrassha. Sshe enjoys fissh in. Particular."

• HUFF*

The blue-scaled sith huffs out a breath, closes his eyes for a long moment, his head still down. Yet that hand draws his gaze to Svarshan's chest. Not further but it is more than before. His tail wraps around his leg and his own claw touches his chest. "Thisss one... thisss one knowsss." There was always that worry, that concern. That they will /not/ know or recognize him. That it has been too long and he is too old. These worries are there in his heart and though he does not speak them out loud he has before to this very sith and they hang in the air now between them. But he has changed. Because of kin. Because of... friends. "It ssshall be."

A glance is finally given to Svarshan that isn't almost hostile, but instead it's very surprised, "Ssrassha? They never feed you!?" She exclaims, clear and obvious horror starting to show in her features. "I...I can't! No! I'll be right back! Don't go anywhere you beautiful, magnificent… creature!" She doesn't even know what Ssrassha is as the Gobber runs off, likely to try and find some food.

Svarshan looks as the gobber runs off. Then, sends the swiftclaw a reproachful look. "You eat," he says to her, and she looks away. Sniffs. She does not, that says. She has never been fed.

Svarsan looks to Zeke then, and quiets. The auras push outwards. Strength, courage. "Ssa. Ssurely you. Believe me, Zeke," he says, mock-pleading with the other.

One can see Zeke straighten, can see his tail unwrap from around his legs, his head lift so that he can meet Svarshan's eyes once more. "Thisss one will do what thisss one can." It is not very much of a promise. Yet, it is far more than he has ever given before. "Thisss one will try." It will take as much courage as he has, and it will likely break him if it fails, but he will try.

-End