Do as the Softskins Do

Log Info

• Title: Do as the Softskins Do

• Emitter: Cuemoni

• Characters: Aelwyn, Cuemoni, Skielstregar, Un'eth

• Place: Colosseum District

• Summary: Cuemoni is trying to navigate the perils of ordering food from softskins when Skielstregar appears. He offers to help her as the raven-shaped Un'eth arrives and then reveals herself. Aelwyn stops by and leaves quickly, as well, and eventually, the makari all get their fill of food.

Colosseum District, late morning.

The fresh spring air is light today, the warmth of Daeus's rays and the green of the foliage throughout Alexandria serving as reminders that it is a time for renewal, a time for all the world to come out of hiding and to bloom again. Here in the Colosseum District, outside of the arena, it's a little quiet, with most people inside of the arena rather than outside.

Cuemoni, the turquoise-scaled sith, is out and about today, symbols and lines painted on her face as always. She huffs a little as she stops at a vendor that is selling what appears to be long sticks of meat.

But she stares at the food stall worker with golden eyes as he serves other customers. She's learned to give everyone a fairly wide berth, perhaps on account of her tail or just her large size in general. But she looks--and smells--nervous. About what, exactly? Who knows.

Most are inside the arena, that much is true! Though, one figure is attempting to leave, light from the Sun Lord causing a scattering of reflections to dance across the tunnel-like entrance. Attempting. They're blocked by a trio of rough and tumble mercenaries. "Oi. Shiny. Yer last bout was mid. We's puttin' on a show, not snappin' a finger an' ending it."

Aloof, or, perhaps, uncaring of the situation, the massive silverscale stands up straighter. "Ssssome showsss are ssshort." He does pause, sniff the air, then simply reaches down and pushes them all to the side gently.

"Ey ey ey we ain't don-"

"Triflesss..." Skielstregar rumbles, ambling past them to inspect that DELICIOUS scent! The silverscale approaches, cracked halberd in one hand, and his hand fishing into his bag for coin in another. He inhales again, but this time picks up... nervous? He looks about- "Ah! Ssshaman Cuemoni! Peassse on your nessst!" he happily greet. "Are you... okay?"

As Skielstregar approaches and announces his presence, Cuemoni seems to relax a little, but is still nervous-smelling. "Warrior Skielstregar," she says, "peace on your nest. This one is..."

Golden eyes dart back at the food stall. Cuemoni's turquoise-scaled tail thumps the ground. "This one is trying to order the food according to the custom of the softskins. This one has been getting by with gestures and nods, and then the exchange of currency, but this one does not know the polite protocol or words. This one feels very foolish."

Skielstregar tilts his head to the side, curious of what is the issue before- a bemused scent cuts through the subtle despair that surrounds him. "Sssuch resspect!" he rumbles warmly, tail thudding against the ground once before swaying.

"Thisss one had to learn asss well, it isss very ssstrange. Sssa, sssoftskinsss are not asss..." he rolls a hand. "... they care lesss for cussstomsss and jussst wisssh to have the coin and give thing away fasssst. Thisss one can ssshow?"

The cracked halberd is carefully slid into the frog on his back, the axehead peeking over his shoulder.

Meat. Delicious meat. The mounting of meat upon sticks only makes it that much more convenient to snack upon... and bipeds, scaled or softskins, are not the only ones that enjoy food. So it is that a curious and/or hungry corvid descends to get a better view (and possibly access) to the source of wondrous smells.

The tiny raven dives and flares with wingflaps to alight upon the nearest convenient high point with a good view of the stall. This just happens to be Skielstregar's head.

Cuemoni regards Skielstregar with golden eyes that study him. She seems almost bemused by his words. "This one does not understand," she replies. "Do the softskins not place importance on rituals? Hospitality is important--"

And then a raven lands on Skielstregar's head. Some individuals in Alexandria would be celebrating this momentous occasion. For Cuemoni, however, this results in a rumble in her throat and an aversion of her eyes as she kneels to the ground on one knee. "Ay! A wind spirit. Noble one, this one and her friend come here into your lands with no intentions of evil."

And then Cuemoni's stomach rumbles. Cuemoni's golden eyes nictate.

"... But this one came here with intentions to feed," she weakly admits.

Skielstregar chuckles, a rolling sound in his chest. "They do, but on different thingssss, time and place. Here isss busssy, so the ritualsss are very, very sssshort. Mossst give isss just a thank you and be on their day. Here, let thisss one-

The shiny silverscale suddenly ceases moving and talking, one foot in front of the other, tail out and rigid. Dead eyes snick upward. "... thisss one isss not a perch, little one."

His halbred seems to slide up in its frog, the crack in it splitting slightly before the makari absentmindedly reaches over his shoulder to shove it back down. "Sssaa. The birdssss here are usssed to the sssoftskinsss, they are much more bold," he concludes. Glances to Cuemoni. "... but no intentionsss to feed upon you, Raven." He makes no move to remove the bird just yet.

The raven studies Cuemoni's reaction, head tilting in curiosity. That is, until the halberd moves, causing a head turn and hop to face it. Peer at it. Wings rustle lightly until the siverscale re-sheathes the weapon.

Then comes another hop, to Skielstregar's snout: further from the hungry, hungry halberd and nearer the hungry bluescale. Another moment of peering, before beak opens.

"Rissse, young one. Respect is good, but will not fill your belly." The corvid's head then rotates around to peer at its silverscale perch. "Fetch that one meat, and feed that" the bird eyes the weapon "before it bites someone. Plus one for me, and yourself." Then the snoot receives a sharp, but not injurious, peck before the raven hops back to Skielstregar's head. Possibly to supervise.

Cuemoni's stance is still respectful even as she rises from the ground, averting her gaze even still. "This one will do as you command, noble spirit," she says, her tail twitching. "This one will... acquire the meal. Or... attempt to."

Her golden eyes peer at Skielstregar. There's a silent plea for help in those reptilian eyes!

There is a sudden onset of a plethora of emotions from the silverscale. So much so that constant undercurrent of death and despair seems to be whisked away. Surprise. Reverence. Joy. And then- "S-Shaman Un'eth...!" -a tiny bit of the despair is back?

It's like a titan being hit in the jaw. A simple peck makes the entire Warrior flinch like a well-timed fake out. It didn't hurt, but he rubs the poked spot like it was hit with a slap of a thousand nest-mother palms. "U-Uh, no, Malefic will not bite sssomeone, ssshe getsss tesssty when sssomeone isss too clossse. But ssshe will behave.

He glances over his shoulder.

The crack in the halberd is closed, but curves into a jagged smile.

He huffs, then turns to see- golden pleading eyes! He rights himself. "Sssa. Let usss get food."

He strides forward towards the stall, be a shining example! "Peassse on your nesssst!" he greets warmly. "Thissss one wasss wondering how large one order isssss? And how many coinssss?"

A ruddy sight of a sith was particularly upbeat today; glaive with red ribbons bopping up and above the heads of the crowd. Mostly, Aelwyn was glad that he could peel open his scarf and feel a bit of the warm sunshine on his scales. Blessed spring, the promise of summer, the-

There is a pause in his step, as Aelwyn tilts his head, looking at the familiar silver spectacle. More interestingly, he sees the commotion from afar. With casual set of steps, he moves to stand behind Skielstregar - promptly giving the other's tail a light whip from his own. "Silver." The short sith says, then looks over the other he does not recognize, "Stranger." He bows his head. Finally, he looks up at the corvid for a long time. Finally, his orange eyes turn towards Skielstregar. "This one feels Silver is gathers ever more curious strangers around him every time this one sees him."

Cuemoni's golden eyes nictate again as she realizes that the raven is being addressed by a shaman. She spreads her hands as she dips her head in a bow, followed by a thump of the tail on the ground. "Shaman," she intones. "Peace upon your nest. This one is Cuemoni, Shaman of the Xiuhcoatl."

The introduction appears to have also been given for the sake of the other new arrival, as she looks at the red-ribboned glaive that Aelwyn wears. "This one is curious, but curious for knowledge," she states almost firmly. "Such as--"

The grumble of the stomach comes from her again, and she dips her head in shame. "Such as acquiring the food." She watches Skielstregar step forward to order, learning from him.

There's a clank of metal of tail against armored tail, Skiel flinching and turning around abruptly. There is a sound, like a rumbling growl of granite against stone from behind him. But Skiel hisses quietly to the weapon. "Malefic, cease." <Draconic>

He shakes his head (carefully, as to not dislodge the resting raven) before giving Aelwyn a nod. "Peassse on your nessst, Dragoon Aelwyn. These are no ssstrangersss, they are friendsss!" he grins warmly.

Speaking of! Duty! He turns back to the stall, ducking down some so he wasn't lording over them.

For the person running the stall, used to serving athletes and mercenaries, the quadro of makari didn't really bother them. "Five copper a stick," they answer in a bored manner before gesturing out to the sticks of meat on display. Certainly enough for a regular folk. Perhaps a bit sparse for sith-makar.

Skielstregar turns to Cuemoni. "Softskinsss use little coinsss for trade. Ten copperssss to a sssilver. Ten sssilver to a gold. Ten gold to a platinum."

Back to the stall, he stands up proud and pulls out three silver coins. "Thisss one will take eight! Two for each of usss!" Malefic makes a grindy sound, like clearing a throat. Skiel looks to his coin, counts on his fingers for a moment before quickly adding one more.

Aelwyn turns towards the Cuemoni with a curious tilt of his head, and then slowly bows his head. "Aelwyn, a Dragoon." He responds in kind. The Dragoon would have been content to watch the interaction otherwise - but the reaction he receives from Skielstregar makes his pupils widen for a second. His head tilts further around, causing the red ribbons to flop over. "Ever protective of Silver, this one sees." His eyes turn towards the aforementioned armored tail, then back towards the large silvery sith. Temptations.

Continuing to stand on the side as he lets the barter go on - but when he hears the eight pieces of meat being mentioned, he slowly steps forward and adds two of his own silver coins. After all, he did not believe in free meals - or he was just trying to trip Skielstregar up on his count. "Shaman has come from Am'shere, this one assumes? It seems as if plenty of people have traveled from those jungles this one hears so much of."

The raven assists with the selection, departing Skielstregar's cranium to snatch one of the purchased impaled meats. It might have taken more, but even one limits maximum airspeed velocity enough given lift-to-mass ratio. Rather than consume it, however, it flaps to hover briefly before Cuemoni. This occurs just long enough for the avian to ripple, form expanding and extending downard as if aided by gravity. Once feathers are replaced with scales and toes touch the ground, Un'eth retrieves the stick from her maw to offer it to Cuemoni. "Peace on your nest, Shaman. Eat, please, before you expire from hunger." The sway of her tail suggests there is no true concern, but one can never be too careful.

Cuemoni carefully takes the offered stick from Un'eth, bowing her head again in a show of respect for the fellow Shaman. "This one thanks you for your gift, Elder Shaman," she replies, and she pulls the meat off the stick into her maw.

Once she's finished her first bite, the golden eyes turn back to Aelwyn. "This one is from Am'shere, yes. This one has never met one who wears scales such as you who is not a part of the People--but this one is also new, and learning many things. Such as how to order food in softskin cities. This one thanks the Warrior Skielstregar for teaching."

There are now six coins. Skiel stares at it. Seemingly looking like he's doing complex arithmetic in his head, numbers flying all around. After far too long, he removes one coin, gives it back to Aelwyn, along with two sticks, and then puts one coin in his purse before handing four over And collecting the bounty. "Thank you!"

The stall keep gives a halfhearted wave. "Yeah. Thanks. Make room, alright? Crowd's going to come soon."

"Oh. Oh, sorry," Skiel murmbles before retreating back- a raven got one! He rumbles warmly as he sees the familiar black scale. To Aelwyn, he nods his head slowly. "Sssa. Malefic isss more... expressive now. And isss quite protective of thisss one'sss space. Ssshe isss learning to get usssed to it."

The halberd says nothing, but the crack on it turns downwards slightly like a frown.

He passes out the rest of the meal to others. Two sticks for everyone. "See, Sshaman Cuemoni, easssy!"

Aelwyn's lips twist into a grin as Skielstregar figures out his little trick, and he bows his head. "Gratitude." Malefic gets another glance, as he sees the crack shift - but those were questions he were to ask later. Instead, his attention is turned towards the other two sith he does not recognize. Especially the one that just turned... from a raven. "... Corvid." The Dragoon finally greets with a bow of his head. So many questions, so little time.

Turning his head towards Cuemoni, with a grin. "This one feels his scales are very unique, yes." The autumn colored sith-makar chunks down on his meat stick. "A city is just a jungle, paved in concrete and with beasts that hide in the alleys and smiles." His teeth glint with a split grin. "This one welcomes her - but if they were to visit TarRaCe, this one would be more than happy to teach her how to enjoy one's time in a tavern filled with warmth and food."

Gaze tilting over Silver and the others, he bows his head. "This one is pressed for time, but be at peace, this one is sure Silver will keep them away from trouble." With that, the ruddy draconian starts to head along towards the crowd, soon only his glaive visible above the crowd's heads.

Un'eth eyes the stall keep dubiously at a demand to make way for those who are not present (and might never be), but she takes a few steps aside. In part, this is to retrieve a stick from Skielstregar. "Also easy to hunt prey outside the softskin city," she points out to Cuemoni as her stick is eyed dubiously, "and get more meat." Still some is better than none, and she proceeds to pull off whole chunks to chew as a parting thump of tail is given towards the redscale. Lastly, her snout pivots to the silverscale. "Is it true? Do you keep others from trouble?"

Cuemoni looks back to the stall worker with a look of concern in her eyes. "This one asks all to wait," she says. "Before the group moves. This one must make important purchase."

She bravely goes to the food stall worker and... falteringly, but eventually, orders the food, just as Skielstregar showed her how. She returns with two more sticks, but she delicately wraps them into a strip of cloth that she draws from her bag and stows them away. "This one thought they would be a good meal for Shaman Zeke later," she states. "Healers need energy to do their work. This one would like for the Shaman to be fed."

And her stomach rumbles again, reminding her that she has her own meal to tuck into... So she does so. "This one would readily believe that the Warrior keeps others safe," she says, referring to Skielstregar.

Skielstregar gives a wave to Aelwyn as he departs, him nodding slowly. "Sssa, Aelwyn iss at the TarRaCe often, softssskin building that servesss food and hasss warmth bathsss."

He watches curiously as he goes, but he turns back to the conversation at hand. "Yess. It isss eassy to hunt outside the city, but sssometimesss getting to hunting groundsss takesss too long, easssier to do thisss ritual with otherssss to get food at timesss."

He thuds his tail against the stone ground with a clank like a cheer once she manages to fumble her way through the purchase. "That isss a good idea. Ssshaman Zeke needssss much energy. Good work!"

He blinks at Un'eth, then stands up straighter. "Sssa. Thisss one keepsss othersss from trouble," he states proudly. "Thiss one hasss done a lot sssince we lassst ssspoke, Shaman Un'eth. They are doing well, in many ways." Must be so, considering he's wearing a hydra head as a shoulder piece, holds himself up high, and his old typical timidness is just a shadow.

"Ssa, shamans must eat," Un'eth agrees with Cuemoni, eyeing her pointedly. She places both skewers perpendicular for her maw to close upon and strip both clean, then chews heartily. "Energy to see to others, as you do." Her tail thwimps the ground lightly in approval.

As for Skielstregar, she scrutinizes him discerningly and thoughtfully as she continues to chew; his posture, his decorations, his words. The skewers became impropmtu pointers of sticks, waggled at him. "This is good, Warrior Skielstregar. I would not want to knock your snout any shorter..." Again, bemused flick and sway of tail belie any real threat. Mostly. "We have not shared words for a long time. I did not know if the city still stood as it did..." Now a brief glance about them. "Here it is."

Cuemoni finishes off her first stick and moves on to the second, tearing off the meat... ravenously. But maybe not so raven-ously as Un'eth's raven shape might have done. When she finishes a bite, she replies, "This one understands, Shaman Un'eth. This one is motivated more by other people, and the spirits, than her own self. It is because of the state of this one's tribe that this one is here in this city at all."

She tucks into the stick of meat again. "This one has not been hunting yet," Cuemoni says between bites. "Not beyond the softskin city. This one has been learning about the softskins and their ways of living. This one is not of these lands, and will never be of these lands like one who drew first breath here--but can be a gracious guest while in these lands, so that the softskins will continue to readily accept the People. Respect was what this one was taught above all."

In a similar fashion as to the ebon-scale, Skiel strips his skewers in one swoop, chews several times, then swallows it all in one gulp. A nice snack for a big guy. He rumbles a chuckle, mostly amused, faintly nervous. "Pleasse do not knock thisss one'sss snout." Though, he does settle his gaze on Un'eth. "Yesss. We need to ssshare wordsss. Much hasss happened. Mosstly good."

He regards Cuemoni, tail swaying as her words are relayed. "It isss worth learning their waysss. But it isss important to keep an open mind; they do not ressspect the spiritsss nor the land asss much as the People do. Sssomething we would sssee asss a sssslight isss the norm to them. And sssomething that isss normal to usss is a ssslight to them. Example, thisss one performed in the arena. Sssoftskinsss want sssshow. Thisss one ssshow with feat of ssstrength. Thisss one performed, but they did not like how long thisss one did not lassst."

He shrugs. "Their losss."

"Ssa, respect is good," Un'eth concurs again with Cuemoni, "even to softskin. Worthy softskin," she adds as caveat, lifting a single claw. "Respect them, do not rely on them. Not for food," she adds lightly. "Respect, do not trusst. Make them earn. Learn of their ways, do not forget your own. Respect of Ea, of spirits, always best. Lands do not matter. Spirits roam all the lands, and all the lands are Ea." She looks to Skielstregar and her head tilts. "What words would you share?"

Cuemoni nods to both makari as they offer her their opinions on the softskins, and she quickly finishes her second stick. Both are stowed away in her bag for later. "This one takes both sets of words close to the heart," she rumbles appreciatively. "This one has, so far, only met those of the People here for conversation--the softskins have not made much conversation yet."

Golden eyes lined with red paint meet Un'eth. "This one cannot and will never forget the ways of their tribe," she says. "This one may, in years to come, be all that is left. This one's scales speak of our guardian spirit's blessing on the tribe--and may be the last born with that blessing to live beyond the first year. Time will see."

She looks down to her bag. "This one should hurry over to the Temples to meet Shaman Zeke. This one does not want the meal to become cold."

"Very wissse, Ssshaman Un'eth, much better than thisss one could have put it," Skielstregar agrees with the summation. Though, he scratches his cheek with a talon, a slight glance given to the turquoise scale before answering. "Erm... thisss one isss better about... thingsss," he vaguely mentions before continuing on, "Helped sssoftskinsss and kin often. Alexandria asss well. Learn more about the Dragonfather, the Death Sssinging Dragon, and thisss one. Thisss one's weapon isss more like a perssson than a thing. The lissst isss long."

Said weapon's jagged smile as turned from a frown to a closed grin.

He turns to Cuemoni, giving a slight bow. "Thisss one iss glad you asssked for aid. Un'eth here isss very ressspected among the People. Sssshe may be able to help in ssssome manner. Moressso than thisss one. But, let ussss not keep you. Peassse on your nessst, Ssshaman Cuemoni of the Xiuhcoatl. May the ssspiritsss guide you."

Un'eth dips her snout to Cuemoni. "One blessed by the spirits can surely rekindle blessings for one's tribe." A firm snort of accent with this surety before she adds, less somberly, "After feeding other shaman. If you would know more of the spirits, the lands not in the city, we can share words in Mictlan, Cuemoni of the Xiuhcoatl. Peace on your nest."

Cuemoni thumps her tail against the ground again, and she offers Skielstregar and his weapon a stare that's a little long--but then she gives a sort of spread-armed bow again. "This one thanks you both. Shaman Un'eth, I will likely find you at Mictlan to learn more from your ways, as this one still has much to learn--very, very much to learn."

Golden eyes nictate, and then her tail wags happily. "Peace on your nests, Shaman Un'eth and Warrior Skielstregar," she offers, and she departs, heading in the direction that will take her to the Temple District.