Scars And Tattoos

It is around dusk in the stone shelter the pair share, up here in the remote reaches of the Redridge. Thankfully, it is both cooler and somewhat drier this far up than down closer to the city, and even in the height of summer, the temperature within the shelter itself is quite comfortable, with a little help from a fire in the hearth that has burned low, its embers still quite visible. There's a kettle hanging over it, casting shadows against the back wall, but the fire is low enough that it is unlikely to be hot. The room is quiet, and his cot is occupied.

The eyes and nose of a makari reveal within the dim light of the shelter that Seldan is present. His armor is on its rack, Reunion and Guiding Star in their rack next to it. His cot itself has an occupant, but it is a scent that hangs in the air that reveals the situation most clearly - a scent at once musty, floral, and medicinal that is familiar to Zeke. The tea he uses when he has been working magic heavily, and at no other time.

Zeke enters the shelter with more of a pep in his step than is usual for the sith-makar. He notes immediately the subtle. The darkness of the room. The lowness of the fire. The herbal scent of the room. He slips into the room as quietly as he can, not wishing to disturb Seldan at rest and closes the door with equal care.

He smells no blood or injury immediately, but that doesn't necessarily mean that Seldan is unharmed. The paladin has proven that he is more than capable of repairing himself... Recently in a way most troubling. Zeke slips toward the fire and considers warming the fire a bit for a meal or more tea, but ends up merely sitting near it listening carefully to the sound of Seldan's breathing. Trying to determine if he's awake or not.

Movement from the cot at once says that the paladin, if he was not awake before, is now. He turns his head and starts to push up on one elbow. "Who goes?" The lilting voice holds a rasp of weariness, and something else. Seldan is not entirely happy, which jives with the other clues.

"It isss only thisss one kin." Zeke replies in a low rumble, a quiet voice that is set at a pitch and tone to not disturb someone who might in fact have a headache. "Would you like thisss one to leave you in peasssce?" If requested, he will leave their shared domicile, though it is their home together, it is not a space that he wishes to intrude upon.

Relief surges through Seldan, and the figure in the cot drops back down to its original position. "Nay, for this is your home as well," he replies. "Build the fire, does it please you to do so." A headache is nearly certain, from the sound, but it sounds like it's been worse. "It is well to see you, and I would ask forgiveness, that I come not to you. The journey was - difficult."

The sith-makar relaxes somewhat to see Seldan relax. Then, given permission to build the fire he does so, stoking it if not to the fullness of its capacity enough to make tea and perhaps a bit of food. Slowly, very slowly, Zeke has begun to trust the food in this small space of theirs. To trust that it is not magically 'replaced' while he is sleeping or otherwise indisposed from watching over it. It's been a long effort, and some days he can not bear that trust, but today he can.

He pulls together enough things for a meal; a simple stew, but he pulls out a few herbs that he knows are both tasty and good for those who are suffering exhaustion. "There isss no-thing to forgive. You are here and that isss enough. Are you hungry?"

Seeing Zeke cook for himself from what is around is always good news for Seldan, who is aware of Zeke's food issues, but today, the willingness only half-registers, and as the fire glow begins to brighten the room, he covers his eyes with his arm, without complaint, thinking about the question posed. "I - believe so. I should eat, lightly at the least. It is - for the best, do I not attempt magic just now." _You're on your own with the cooking_ the unspoken meaning hangs.

Zeke quietly sets about setting up the tea and the food. It's nothing special really, but he knows how to manage a basic meal at least. He keeps his little eye-flicks toward Seldan to the minimum and then when he has finished the preparations and everything simply needs to cook he looks at the other man. "Do you wissssh to ssshare wordsss kin? You ssseem to have a lot on your mind."

The figure on the cot has not moved the entire time Zeke has worked, seemingly content to let Zeke work in peace. The arm has not moved, continuing to cover his eyes, a signal of absolute trust that Seldan gives to few. When the question is asked, he breathes once, deeply, and lets it out. "I but consider that which I have learned, and permit the tea to do its work," he replies. "Today did I do battle with a kyton-forged weapon, and wrest from its grasp the mind of the man who wielded it. Pain demons, some name them, and its work - bears not speaking of, and yet did it remind me why it is that I yet fight."

The tea begins to bubble and Zeke pulls it off before it can begin to actually whistle. The tea will be a little cooler, but they don't need it pipping hot in this weather anyways. He pours the water into two cups and portions out the herbs to steep. Nothing medicinal goes into the tea - Seldan's likely had enough of that. But mint and fruit flavors will perk his appetite and soothe his stomach at the same time.

The sith-makar then stirs the food and pulls it off as well, dishing out equal portions of the food to each of them. He brings Seldan's portions to his cot, rather than expecting the man to leave his bed and join Zeke near the warm hearth.

"Ssssa. Here. Thisss one hasss heard of sssuch creaturesss, thisss one iss glad you were able to bessst a weapon made to do their bidding and free sssome-one of that control." He shifts his tail warmly, low and slow. "The world isss a better plasce to have you in it."

Slowly and with an effort, Seldan sits upright in the cot, reaching to take tea and stew, one with each hand. The stew he sets aside next to the cot to cool a little, but the tea he takes in both hands, sipping carefully. "My thanks - a good choice." He stares down into the cup from which he'd sipped a moment past. "I - aid where I may," he murmurs. "It remains to destroy it, but I have learned how that might be done. An endeavor worth the cost, that none other may be harmed by that thing."

"The place - was a slaughterhouse. A torture chamber. Why this man - possibly an associate of the Griever - might put such a weapon in the hand of any man - I know not, but this much is clear - it was given with knowledge and intent."

Once Seldan is situated with his supply of tea and stew, Zeke migrates back to his own, bringing them closer to the cot and sitting on the floor nearby. Like Seldan he sets his stew aside and breathes in the aroma of the tea before sipping it. "Dessstroying it isss good. Divining the Griever's purpose... may be more difficult than that. It sssseemsss to thisss one that you wressstled greately with thiss creation. Are you well?"

Seldan takes another long pull of his tea before answering. "Weary," he answers. "The attempt to dispel the bond placed me in a direct battle of wills with it, and in it was I shown some of its deeds. I was able to force the dispel, break the bond, but the effort - was not lightly done. Gladly did I do so, and the price is small for what was achieved."

Zeke watches his kin drink his tea and frowns with his eyes and with his brows. There's that flicker of worry that's almost always there. That Seldan cares for himself so little that any price he pays in body or mind is secondary to the achievement of having defeated something evil. Yet such was their way.

"That sssoundsss difficult. Thisss one isss glad to ssee you returned... Would it help to sshare wordsss of what you sssaw? Wasss any of it ussseful information?"

Another slow pull of the tea gives Seldan time to consider his next words, but in the end, he shakes his head slowly. "Of more help were the words of the man I freed, heavy though his burden is. The visions I saw were of the memories of a torture knife that enjoyed its work." A shudder ripples down his spine. "The man was given the knife as an alternative to being sold into slavery. He fell unconscious ere I could learn all of its giver, but I have, at the least, a description. The knife, it seems, was hidden in Maugrim's vaults in Charn, a place to which the Griever may well have gained access."

This news makes Zeke grow still. "The Griever hasss accesss to thessse plasscesss?" His worry thickens his accent and he rumbles worriedly in his chest. "Thisss one can not imagine what he might find there... The artifactsss that might have been taken, or which were created and plassced there."

"So it seems. The man is dangerous in the extreme, kin, and with utmost caution do I work to oppose him, for he must never see me coming, ere the blade is at his throat." Finally, Seldan sets the near-empty teacup aside, and picks up his bowl of stew and spoon. "Why would he target the faithful of the Tempter, though? For it was clear that they were his target. The man said but - "to burn away all the lies". The Griever is a figure from history - a revolutionary of a conquered people - but - can his grudge span centuries?"

Zeke doesn't know the answer to Seldan's questions. "Perhapsss the sservantsss of the Falsssse Hope are defying him? Trying to keep him from gaining power?" It seems mildly unlikely, but it's the best explanation that he has. "Though, the Falsssse Hope... isss the deity of liesss. Ssshe may insssult hisss... sssight?" He finally offers a half shrug and picks up his stew.

Silence from Seldan is palpable, and he spoons up a mouthful of stew, blowing on it gently to cool it. "It is in my mind that there is yet more to learn. I have my suspicions-" He takes a first, careful bite of the stew. "It seems assured that they defy him, for he is a threat to their power, and yet -" Silence falls again, and this time stretches out a long time, while he takes another bite of stew and chews both it and his words. He seems in no hurry to eat.

"There is more I would learn of the Griever's tale, that I might understand. No deception is possible with such a one, and thus will it not serve me to seek to use it against him."

Zeke blinks as Seldan tries his stew and he follows suit. His efforts involve a lot less blowing on the food however. When one's maw is built for the expulsion of lightning one does not require much in the way of blowing on hot things. "Thisss one isss not good at desscpetionsss. Better to do what he will not expect - attack him directly." Zeke huffs a sigh. "Thisss one isss uncertain how long we can allow him to gain more power. Every day he hasss more followersss. More under hisss fingersss."

Seldan lowers his eyes, and sets his stew aside, dropping his hands into his lap. "As always, you have the right of in, kin. We can delay this little more, but - it may now be that he is not the only threat we face. I must learn what I may of this lackey of his - if indeed it was such a lackey, and not the warlord himself." He props his knees up, resting elbows on them, and rubs at his temples gently with both hands.

Instantly Zeke lets the conversation drop away when he sees Seldan rubbing his temples, setting aside his food and looking at the other man worriedly. "Thisss one isss sssorry. We have been sssharing wordsss and you are ssstill not well. Would you like to ressst?"

"Nay, kin. I am well enough, for little enough have I seen of you these past two seasons, and it is good to share words again." Seldan continues to rub his temples, though, carefully, his eyes closed. "You make a fine stew. Will you still travel with me on this journey, or do your duties keep you here?"

Zeke's tail swishes once. "Thisss one isss with you Sseldan. Thisss one will come unlesss sssome great dissstresss keepsss me from your ssside." He ducks his head and eats another bite of his stew. "Thisss one getsss better at cooking. It isss practice. You have taught thisss one good lesssonsss... And it _isss_ good to ssshare wordss."

Seldan continues to rub at his temples, as one who should rest and either cannot or will not do so. "I am glad for that. I am no great cook, but do I not do so, Malik will cook something terrible." A long, slow sigh. "I would have you journey with me, and there is much that I would share."

The blue-scale lets out a little low rumble. "Isss there sssome-thing that you are not telling thisss one? Sssome-thing which troubless you?" Zeke is not the best reader of people, but with Seldan, he tries.

Seldan shakes his head, a slow and careful gesture. "Nay. I am weary only, and grateful it is no worse than that. It is as well that Alexandria has quieted in the past two moons, for -"

His hands drop, and his gaze drops to the stone by his feet. "Too few things do I understand. Did we not think that, as we grew in power, that we would have the answers?" A ghost of a smile. "And yet is it not so. I know little more than I did as a stripling new-sworn to Her service."

Zeke laughs a little, very gently. More a chuckle than anything. "Thiss one alwaysss thought that eldersss had all the ansswersss, but thisss one hass grown old and learned that no amount of age givesss usss the wissssdom we ssseek. We mussst keep learning. Thisss one isss glad of it; it keepssss thisss one feeling young." He blinks at Seldan, smiling and thinking that he's known the man for many of both their years. Time has moved oddly for them for it to be so, but it is true. They've lived a life-time as kin.

Seldan snorts quietly, a sound of amusement. "And yet is it I who feels as though they have lived a lifetime already. Well do I know that you have lived far, far more than I, and shall. We humans are short-lived folk."

He stays in that same staring pose for a moment more, eyes on the stone floor by his feet, then looks up. "I am blessed to call you kin, and friend. It is not in my mind that my family will welcome me with open arms, even do we restore that house. I honor my elders, and yet-"

Zeke can not imagine his life without Seldan in it. Without his kin. To his eyes, Seldan has lived far longer than any soft-skin should. The world without him in it doesn't seem real. He supposes that it won't until that day comes. "It isss thisss onesss honor Sseldan. That we have ssshared ssso much of time together. The Dragonfather hass gifted to me a life with you in it for a very long time." He feels his tail shifting slowly. "Thisss one knowsss that your family isss important to you, that your eldersss are; and that you honor them isss good. But..."

He falls silent a moment. "Thisss one doesss not know why you sseek approval from thossse who do not dessserve your presscensse. You tell thisss one, that thisss one ssshould turn asside from thossse feelingsss toward thissss onesss nesst-mother, but you do not do the sssame toward your own nesst-family."

"There are those who would welcome me, and those who will not, be I accepted or nay," Seldan returns, his gaze open and frank. "I would - honor and do right by those who came before me, but it is in my mind that there are those who shall not be swayed, and that the strife between those who will, and those who will not, will do but more damage. Still are you right. I would honor them, though hey care little for me."

The blue-scale is silent a long moment. This is a soft-skin thing, a thing that he only slightly understands due to the differences in their culture. He's lucky in some ways. His upbringing gives him a unique insight into Seldan's desire to be close to those that birthed him. "Ssseldan." He says the other males name slowly. "Do you know why thisss one bearsss ssscarsss?" He touches his chest. The other male has seen him without his clothes on. Knows that there are many, many small scars covering his chest. Scars that he has never really felt a need to explain. But they are self-inflicted wounds, not something made by another.

Distracted, Seldan blinks slowly, and straightens. "I have seen them, yes, but assumed it ritualistic in nature. That if you desired them gone, they would be so - and that did you desire me to know their tale, you would speak. Thus did I not desire to pry overmuch, and yet would I hear, were you willing to share." The tea and bowl of stew are largely forgotten next to him, the teacup nearly empty but only a few bites of the stew consumed.

Zeke nods. "Thisss one will ssshare wordsss." He takes a breath. "Each mark on thisss onesss chessst isss a mark of honor. Honor to the livesss that thisss one hasss ssaved." He points to his chest with his claw. "You are here. Thisss one hasss ssseen the markss on your ssskin. The markssss honoring your people. Thisss one doesss not know their meaning, that isss yoursss to ssshare or not. But among thisss onesss People, it isss to... give life back to thossse that are tied to usss. When you heal one, their life isss in your handsss. The sscarsss give that life back."

He wonders if he is explaining this well. "You owe nothing to thosse tied to you Ssseldan. Releasse them. Give them their own livessss. You will feel lighter for it; assss thisss one doesss."

For some time does Seldan consider those words in silence, looking down unconsciously at his own body in the darkness, but in the end, he slowly shakes his head. "I ... understand your meaning, and yet - it is in my mind that they will not so readily release me." He lets out a slow breath, knowing that Zeke is likely to think him insane. In truth is this a thing of which he has spoken to none. "The marks upon me - are not made by me, nor do I truly know whence they come," he explains slowly, as one searching for words. "I am - tied to my ancestors. Some do I know by name, others by sense of purpose or general feel. And they know me. Do I ask - at times can I call upon their wisdom, and they will answer. Reunion - is a different case, and yet not. I am part of a thing greater than myself, and yet severed from it, in some ways. These marks that I bear - some do a recognize, and some no, but in no case do I know their significance to me. It is a thing I had intended to study."

Zeke blinks at this and looks at Seldan and nods. "Thisss may be true. For sssome of the People, the ancessstorsss sspeak loudly indeed. Our blood, it sssingss to our passt and the memory of it can not be ignored. You ssshould do your resssearch. You ssshould learn your passst, for it ssshould not control you in the now. Perhapsss... You are chosssen by your ancessstorss Sseldan. Perhapsss they sssing in your blood."

"Of that, there can be little doubt. A thousand voices have I heard, at times." Seldan succumbs to a yawn, his eyes drifting back down to the floor. "It seems - a frivolous matter, when so many are in need of aid and darkness walks Ea, does it not? Indeed do I think that few would understand."

"They need not. Care for onesss sself is not alwaysss a thing underssstood by othersss, but it isss sstill necesssary. Here now, you are yawning. Iss that not the sssign of tirednessss? Thisss one isss keeping you up." Zeke's tail swishes in amusement and he begins to gather up their dinner things to be cleaned. Not by Seldan's magic. Not this time. He will do it by hand.

_Damn Zeke's inescapable logic._ Seldan's lips twitch upward at the corners into a faint smile, knowing full well that he is, as usual, right. "I - had not wished to ask, so seldom do I see you. Perhaps when this is done," he murmurs, another sudden thought darkening his tone. He lays back slowly, letting Zeke take his dishes and covering his eyes again with one arm. "Thank you, brother."

-End