Stern Talking

Lower Trades, Afternoon

The overcast days seem to be in the past for now, but still the chilly gale of wind remains, fair skies bathing the streets of the markets with much needed sun. While merchantilism goes on around, one pair at a bench seem to be locked in a heated conversation. Well, one shiny silverscaled makari, and a talking halberd. The latter is basking on the bench, the other sitting on the ground.

"What is there to talk about, hatchling?" the weapon metallically growls.

"Much. Thisss that you are doing, it isss not working," Skiel implores. "We need to work together, and thisss one accomidatesss much for you, but you needsss to as well."

The halberd turns slightly towards Skielstregar. "What do you mean? Here was have His Radiance. We should go to His templ-"

"We are barred from the plaza for now because of you...!" Skiel hisses.

"Minor laws that are not meant for us," Malefic deigns.

The silverscale scowls. "Thisss one cares not if you are an ant or a might dragon, we are in sssoftskin landsss, we go by softssskin rulesss...!"

The weapon doesn't have a reply, their jagged maw going shut and thinning out. Skiel harrumphs, crossing his arms and leaning against the bench.

Step step. Then a ruddy scaled sith-makar appears, with a flaming glaive - and a hand on his hip. Even with the chilly wind, and the warm looking cloak, one took the time to part it enough to tilt one's hip to the side, and place a hand on the hip in a questioning fashion.

"Silver," Aelwyn rumbles with his lips spread out in a wide grin. "This one admits never seeing one get so temperamental." Glance to the skies, then back down. "Especially in this weather." He was holding something off a red rope over his shoulder - an expensive looking small box.

"Quarrel?" The Dragoon then asks, tilting his weight to the other side.

Skiel doesn't look up, face in his hand. But he inhales at the greeting to get confirmation. "Dragoon Aelwyn," the Warrior greets. He rubs his temples. "Sssa. Usually they enjoy thisss but..." A sigh. "Yesss-"

"No," Malefic answers. "I am trying to implore that some things are trivial to the hatchling."

"Mal. Ef. Ic." Skiel huffs.

He shakes his head, looking up at Aelwyn. "What isss you have?" he asks, glancing to the box.

"Hatchling Silver." Aelwyn clicks his teeth, before he glances up at his glaive. Flickering his mouth, he quiets the flames down, before laying his glaive - carefully at a distance - on the bench by Malefic. "Trivialities can hide most deadly complexities, this one has found."

That said, he drops down besides Skielstregar with the box in lap. "This one is deathly curious to know what the quarrel is about." After a moment of being like that, he quietly gets back up against the edge of the bench.

"Tch, this box?" The said box is raised slightly. "How about one shares the story behind this... situation and this one will share his?"

Skiel quietly groans at being called a hatchling once more. "Sssa, thisss one agrees." Malefic turns towards the glaive as its laid down nearby them, almost in an assessing manner before- rolling a bit away to keep as much distance from them as possible on the bench.

"Too warm," Malefic complains.

The silverscale pulls his knees in. "Fair trade." A plume filled sigh escapes him. "It isss not one instance, but ssserveral instances. Thisss one accommodates much for Malefic; making sssure they can feel the sunrise, join in prayer at leassst once a day, ssset them up in high placesss on occasion. Thessse thingsss are not intrusive too much, but /demanding/ they fulfilled with little bending for thisss one isss causssing problemsss. Such asss yessseterday, we have been... fined? Fined. For tressspasssing because Malefic climbed on top of the Temple Dissstrict's grand fountain to try and pierce the clouds."

"I was so close!" Malefic amends. "I've done it before!"

Skiel just glares.

Aelwyn stares blankly, then slowly spreads his lips apart. "... this one understands Silver's predicament - but this one cannot either help but to empathize with the desire to pierce the skies." His warm glaive continues to radiate its remnant heat. It was a nice glaive. Didn't complain about the cold.

"Yet one has to agree to a barter, does one not? If one only gives, what is there left to give?" The draconian asks, "That is how it feels to this one."

Skiel lulls his head back in defeat as Malefic grins. "See! Dragoon Aelwyn understands, hatchling!" it joyfully growls. "To pierce the clouds, to see nothing but the endless expanse of His Radiance... ahh..."

The silverscale chuffs. "Ssa, Aelwyn hasss point, Malefic. We barter, yet thisss one gets nothing in return?"

The grin shifts to a straight line. "I gave everything already," it snips at Skielstregar. "My devotion to the Dragonfather. My body to the Deathsinger to bring me to Him. But I am not with Him. I am with you. Stuck in this piece of metal. Forgive me for wanting an iota of /something/ of my forgotten past."

The silverscale sighs, conflicted. "Sssorry."

Aelwyn puts his hand on the large makari's shoulder, and then leans around to look at the halberd. "And one shall claim it through the body of one who holds them closest? One shall deserve it for nothing?" He clicks his teeth in annoyance. "The past is not today. Those lost are not here. Silver is as much as Malefic is here today, and their worth is in what is now, and what will be."

A pause, and then he clicks his teeth. "At least do not make Silver pay fines. That is simply rude." He turns around and pats the silver-scaled makari on the shoulder again. "This one can see it has been difficult for one."

GAME: Skielstregar rolls will: (19)+7: 26

Malefic growls. A metallic sounding thing that echoes deeper than it any right it should have. "Dwell in memories for a thousand years and then come back to tell me the same," it snips at Aelwyn. "Can you not feel the past with you at all times, kin? Your flame burns of beacons past. Just like Skielstregar's ice chills monoliths before. What is it with hatchlings these days? Growing soft-"

Skielstregar abruptly grabs Malefic, a small 'ack' cutting off their words as he grips the axehead shut with both hands. His snout touches the flat of the blade as he growls, ""You listen to me and you listen well. It is by His grace that you are still present in the realm today. Why are you here, why you are with this one, we do not know. It is not our place to know. But the now is now. Listen to Aelwyn. He is wise. If you used to be kin, then you /must/ accept words shared."

"I-" Malefic muffles out.

"Silence and dwell upon it. You are not a tyrant." The silverscale turns, and with one arm imbeds the axe-mouth into the wood of the bench. He huffs. <Draconic>

Then turns to Aelwyn, his frustration abating from the shoulder pats. "... sssorry for that. Yesss. It isss very rude to make thisss one pay... fines. Strange custom." A glance to the box in the lap. "Ssso what isss?"

Aelwyn was about to reply before the large makari suddenly grabs Malefic. And he takes the far safer option of leaning away - and making sure he doesn't get chomped during the middle of it at all.

"... boldly spoken." The draconian finally says, patting Skielstregar again. "This one is sure a mutual rhythm will be found." He flashes his teeth.

At the question, there's a bit of a pause - but ah, he relaxes instantly after, even if it was a bit excessive. "Look within." He says, carefully handing out the worn, but red ribbon covered box. "Tomorrow this one shall wear it again." He flashes his teeth.

Within the box laid a crimson mask of a dragon.

Skiel rubs his hands, kneading them. "We are in accord when fighting, but the day to day isss... difficult." He shakes his head, pushing that aside as he turns slightly to face his friend.

Curosity piqued, Skiel carefully takes the box, him gently using a single talon to nudge ribbons out of the way and to flip the latch open. The top opens. He peers in.

His scaled brows shoot up, surprise all in his scent. "Oh, wow, thisss looks very fancy! Isss thisss... a dance thing? Do you have more ssstepsss?" he asks, totally out of the loop.

Aelwyn's shoulders relax as Skielstregar gets excited - there was something comforting in it. His teeth spread open white and sharp. "It is, is it not? Imagine it with flames around it," He stretches his fingers out. "Taunting them like a real dragon." His tail makes excited movements.

The Dragoon then gets up on his feet and stretches his arms out, adopting a pause. "Naturally! How else is this supposed to awe his audience?" The ruddy sith-makar makes few steps, before leaning forward towards Skielstregar. "Though this one's to ask Silver keep the mask a secret for now. One would not want to spoil the audience from their surprise."

His friend growing elated feeds into itself with Skielstregar, the heart-on-his-sleeve silverscale grinning with his fanged maw as his tail drifts side to side under the bench. "Sssa! That will look quite good!" he agrees completely. "Thisss one can sssee it now with flamessss making it even more alive! They will be wowed."

His tail thumps the ground once. "Of courssse." The chest thuds closed, and is offered back. "They will not utter a word of it to otherssss. Thisss one wisshesss you well on your performance!"

Aelwyn grins widely. "This one thought so too. A dragon! Shrouded by flames! Flames for wings, flames for breath!" He stretches his arms above him, making a gesture as if to dive towards the sky.

Then slowly, he brings his arms down and sits besides Skielstregar again. "This one is grateful for the support and everything." A quiet exhale leaves him, and he tilts his head to look at the large silvery makari. "Perhaps one cannot be so harsh on Malefic; or perhaps one should be harsher; a flame only burns bright for a while. Then what remains of those glorious few moments?"

Skielstregar claps at the image, a low thrum of approval in his chest. "Most excellent, sssa!"

And then the excitement dies down. He sighs, though his spirits faring far better now. "Of course, thisss one supportsss their friendsss." His eyes nictate, glancing over at the embedded weapon who hasn't said a word, moved, or made any other notion of being anything other than a cracked weapon. "... thisss one thinksss Malefic needsss to learn they need not burn bright all of the time. Asss even the sssun can scour. What remainsss issss assshesss," he solemnly answers.

There is a long stare at the weapon, before Skiel reaches forth and gently tugs them free. Malefic has no words, save for a slight frown. "Their mind ssstirsss in disquiet. We may have ssstruck a nerve."

Again, no words.

Aelwyn glances towards Malefic - but then back towards Skielstregar. "Then while we recover, what of taking a stroll for something hot to eat?" He offers, picking up his own glaive from the bench. "This one's hunger has risen, and this one feels a walk would do us all good."

The draconian folds his arms around the polearm, and he glances at Malefic once again. "... though this one does feel sun should scour the earth a little more..." He rumbles, as he pulls the leather cloak more firmly around himself.

Skielstregar laughs at that. "Oh, thisss is perfect though, jusssst wait until the scouring dazzlesss the snow!" he enthuses, throwing an arm around Aelwyn as they start to stroll off. "Sssa, let usss get sssomething to eat, thisss one isss sstarving!"

Malefic has no comments. Save for a metallic sound that's akin to a defeated sigh.