Star Witness

Lupecyll-Atlon home, early evening

The weather is cool, with a gentle cutting breeze that has worked its way past Zeke's winter cloak and the clothes beneath to chill his flesh. It's an unpleasant part of the cooler months, which Zeke knows well and can do little about. He has, for this evening, discarded his armor, but even his more casual clothing is less than usual for a sith-makar. Namely in that there's quite a lot of layers involved.

He has given Cuemoni his right claw (the flesh-and-blood one), to hold. So it's the left that he lifts to knock politely on the door to Telamon's home. Once, his kin had called this place his residence, but now it belongs to the shaman. Times change, and so too has he changed from those times. He knows that Telamon should be expecting them, so he only knocks a few careful times and then steps back somewhat; the better to be observed from the inside.

Cuemoni's also dressed for the cool weather, although the cold compared to Am'shere clearly sent the druid looking for clothes that she's not entirely used to in a quick frenzy. Warm wools of varying colors cling to her, the heavy wool cloak doing her a small service in that it hides the unconventional mish-mash of colors underneath. "This one hopes that the Shaman lets us in soon," she says.

Golden eyes turn to look at Zeke. "This one does not want you to catch cold." Instead of complaining for her own freezing state, it is Zeke's that she is worried for.

The door is quite stout, made of well crafted wood carved with images of stars and ravens. And after a moment, the lock clicks, and it opens smoothly. Inside stands an elegant-looking half-sil, his platinum hair cascading down to his shoulders, dressed in a simple linen tunic and woolen trousers with house shoes on. "Ah, Zeke, it's good to see you! And you must be Cuemoni -- please, come in, come in." He backs up to let the two makari step inside.

The house is warm, blessedly so, with a good stone foundation laid with carpets to soften the harsh lines. Here and there are pots, with plants growing out of them, flowering vines that twine up along the walls and supports in complete disregard for the coming winter, their faint fragrance like a blessing.

As they enter, the half-elf offers a deep bow to Cuemoni. "I am called Telamon Lupecyll-Atlon. It is a pleasure to meet you."

"Thisss one will be well." Zeke offers comfortingly to Cuemoni, his tail touching hers in brief. Then, the door opens and Zeke enters as soon as is polite to do so, entering the at once - nope. It's not familiar at all. The sith-makar tilts his head at the interior of the home that he steps into. So much has changed that it is entirely remarkable to him that this is even the same residence as the one that Seldan once lived in. It's not just the potted plants growing all out of season. There's... a lot to take in actually. His nose quivers with unfamiliar scents and his green eyes scour the unfamiliar room for what he once knew.

After a long moment he shakes himself, a little shudder chasing the cold from his bones. It is much more comfortable in the interior than it had been outside. Yet, he does not discard his cloak - he doesn't know where it goes now. Instead he shifts his tail softly in pleasure at Telamon's polite greeting to Cuemoni, and allows the female to introduce herself.

Cuemoni also gives a scenting of the house when they step inside. It's _green_. The flowers, the plants, that should be dying or dead if they were outside... They are in full bloom here. Why? How?

Golden eyes turn onto Telamon, and then Cuemoni gives her own bow to Telamon, still holding onto Zeke's claw. "It is a pleasure to meet you as well," she says. "This one is called Cuemoni, Shaman of the Xiuhcoatl tribe and Zeke's companion." Her tail gives a pleased little rattle for being able to say the last with a sense of pride.

"This one is curious--is the Shaman Telamon also a druid? There are many plants and flowers that are alive in this house. This one does not see such a thing in places outside of the spirits' favor or where those who speak and work with spirits have made the effort and the offerings."

There's something about guests that just brings out Telamon's cheerfulness. Helpfully, he shows the couple where the cloaks are hung, before leading them into the living room proper.

The house has changed substantially from when Seldan resided here, though the bones of the original home are still visible. The living area is larger now, as is the attached kitchen, and a flight of stairs leads up to the new second floor. Everywhere there are small potted plants, and flowers, and the living room ceiling is a fanciful fresco of a night sky adorned with friendly faeries and white ravens. A pair of makari-style padded stools have been placed side by side, across a table from a comfortable chair, and on the table is a platter holding a loaf of fresh bread, jars of honey, butter, and mustard, as well as a large bowl containing a variety of fresh fruit.

"I am not," Telamon replies with aplomb -- and a twinkle in his dark eyes. "But I have fey friends who enjoy growing things, and my wife adores it as well." Another tray, carrying a teapot and three mugs, comes floating in on its own before settling down on the table, the scent of lavender-mint wafting from it. "Please, sit down, and make yourself comfortable."

Zeke helpfully hangs his cloak up where directed, offering to do the same for Cuemoni before he follows Telamon's lead into the main living space. If he looks very hard, there is a sense of familiarity to the place but... The ceiling catches his attention for the moment, bemused by the playful fairies and flying birds.

After the moment's hesitation however he slowly and carefully lowers himself to the stool that has been provided. He emits a soft sigh as the smell of tea wafts into the room and pleasure lights in his green eyes as he gratefully accepts a cup. This is lifted to his nose where he scents it happily, noting no unusual herbs or otherwise offensive odors. He lowers it untried and offers a look that he hopes conveys his appreciation to the other man.

"Sssa. Thisss one isss very grateful for the invitation to your home Telamon." He does glance briefly toward the freshly baked bread and offerings of fruit, but does not move toward them.

There's a reluctant noise that leaves Cuemoni the moment that Telamon mentions fey. If there are fey afoot... Then either this Shaman Telamon that Zeke has met is very powerful and knows what he is doing, or he is a fool who is messing with forces beyond his knowing. She hopes, for the Shaman's sake, that he is well-aware.

But she turns her attention to the offered tea as she sits on her own stool--grateful it is not a softskin chair that she does not have to carefully negotiate with--and she scents the refreshments, as well. "An interesting scent," Cuemoni declares after scenting the tea. "This one is happy to be here in your home and to enjoy your hospitality."

She moves to take some bread and fruit. One might notice that she takes a bit more than is strictly needed for one person. Not so much to be impolite, but she, herself, grazes on what's offered slowly and in a methodical sort of approach.

Telamon takes the seat opposite the couple, lifting his cup and taking a sip. "My wife's favorite," he explains. "I find it soothing as well. When you plan to ford unknown waters, it's good to have your wits about you." The half-sil sorcerer smirks, "The old saw about 'in wine there is truth' is a load of -- well, you get the idea."

"Before we begin, would you be more comfortable speaking in Tradespeak, or," and his words shift smoothly, "the tongue of the honored ones? This one assures you he is fluent in both, and only wishes for clarity in our dealings." <Draconic> Telamon seems perfectly at ease, and his starry eyes flick from Zeke to Cuemoni and back, studying them.

Zeke blinks at Telamon's blending of draconic and trade-speak. He considers the question for a moment and glances at Cuemoni. "Thisss one... Thisss one isss comfortable in the language usssed mossst commonly here, but thisss one doess know that thisss one hass an accent. If thissss one isss better underssstood otherwisse?"

He rarely these days mistakes one word for another or forgets the proper word, though at times euphemisms can go a bit over his head. Zeke reaches out for a fruit that is still quite whole, but when his fingers brush against Cuemoni's he retreats the hand without taking anything at all. "Thisss one can ssshare wordsss in either."

Cuemoni offers a small comforting sound to Zeke when he reaches out for the fruit, as though to say, through the way of sith-makar rumbles and murmurs, that she has it covered; he doesn't need to do anything that he does not want to do. "This one is comfortable with either one," Cuemoni states. "The common language of trade or the common language of the People are both well with this one. The spirits answer to both."

Then she adds, "I will speak in whatever tongue Zeke wishes." It is for his comfort that she does many things.

Telamon's eyes are thoughtful. "Tradespeak then. It's interesting you speak of the spirits answering, Cuemoni. It's been my thought that in most cases, such entities respond to one's intent, not one's words. Which is... an important distinction." He offers Zeke a reassuring smile. "I've spent time with my friend Skiel. If I can handle his speech, I can handle yours."

"To continue a conversation Zeke and I had a short time ago... I have offered to help guide him, and you as well, Cuemoni, in your burgeoning relationship. I grant my experiences are not the same... but even different viewpoints can offer wisdom." He takes a sip of tea. "So. Where to begin?"

A small note of embarrassment rises from Zeke at Cuemoni's comforting noises, but he passes the female a warm look. When Telamon determines the language of their conversation, Zeke nods his acceptance here, sipping the tea and finding it pleasantly refreshing in flavor. He ignores a corresponding response in his stomach that causes a gentle growling noise which he feverently hopes is not notable to outsiders.

As to where to begin... In truth Zeke has not the faintest idea. It is in his nature then to defer to others on the matter. Namely, since Cuemoni is both his companion, and female... He looks to her.

In truth, Cuemoni had been brought here by Zeke. It was an offer given to Zeke by Telamon to come here and discuss their relationship. And when Zeke looks to her to begin... For a moment, she feels somewhat anxious about where to even begin. Where to go. What to say.

"This one wants to begin by saying that this one feels very strongly and warmly for Zeke," she says, golden eyes turning to Zeke. "This one has been gladdened for the time we have spent together, and the things we have done together. It is a beautiful thing to be together, to have someone that this one cares for. This one is very, very thankful that this one's feelings were returned."

"And that is a good start." Telamon's smile is warm, as if it could banish the chill from outside all by its own. "To experience feelings, to know those feelings are returned... think of it as a garden. But newly tilled -- what seeds will you plant?" He steeples his fingers. "I admit I am not as conversant in how makari deal with such relationships. For me, with Lana, it was as if she was the missing piece I didn't even realize I lacked."

His eyes flick to Zeke, but he doesn't comment on the noise, instead continuing, "I would offer that the first step is to devote yourself to honesty. There are things that may only pass between you and your mate, your cihuaa -- but they -must- be passed. Do not hide anything." A pause, then a crooked smile. "An exception may be made for Yule gifts, but that's it."

Zeke's response to Cuemoni's words is to veritably glow. He beams at her, a softness in his gaze that is surely reserved for her. "Thisss one isss glad of you at thisss onesss ssside asss well Cuemoni. To sssay sssuch, isss a good beginning thisss one thinksss."

Telamon's words cause a slow nod from Zeke. "Thisss one believesss that honesssty issss good. Though... thisss one at timessss findsss ssharing wordsss difficult. Thisss one doess not want to offend, or to caussse... trouble. Thisss one doesss not wisssh to caussse disssturbance."

Cuemoni's golden eyes are gentle things when Zeke speaks on finding the sharing of words difficult. A gentle hum comes from within her, another comforting noise, as her tail goes closer to Zeke's, seeking him out and being close to his, but not yet seeking to curl around his. "This one understands your difficulty," she says to Zeke, "as this one is careful as well in speaking to you. But only because this one seeks never to distress. Your comfort is the most important. This one remembers your honored kin Seldan's words--that not all have been kind in the past--and so, this one has allowed you to set the pace of our walk together. This one does not demand companionship to abide by this one's sense of progression."

Her voice is softer. "It is important to this one that you are only made happy by this one's presence. To do anything else would bring this one great sorrow."

Telamon's gaze sharpens a touch. "I do not think you are capable of offending Cuemoni, Zeke. I doubt you can offend me. Open your heart to her, and cast out your fear." Yes, a rebuke, but a mild one. His stare shifts to Cuemoni now.

"It is good you've met with Sir Seldan. There are many good people in the city, but I would always take heed of his words." Tel sets his cup down. "Your task will be a difficult one, Cuemoni, for as you say, there have been those who have treated Zeke ill in the past. He needs you, for in truth I think he is hurt and has never healed properly. Not in flesh, but," he taps the place over his heart, "here."

Zeke's tail slips around to gently touch Cuemoni's tail. It is very much a comforting and self-comforting gesture. "Asss Telamon ssssaysss, if thisss one can not offend, then thisss one wissshess for you to be able to ssspeak openly with thisss one too. It isss true, that thisss one hass had many hardssshipsss, many thingsss are difficult for thisss one... But they are no lesss exissstant for the lack of sssharing wordss."

He remembers well the teachings of the Dragonfather, that the fear within ones own self is a thing to be conquered, and Telamon has the right of this. So many times in his life he has lived in fear. Struggled with his own sense of weakness. To hear Telamon speak of him so, it is an embarrassing thing, but he can not deny the truth of it. "Thisss one, mussst begin with trussst." He looks at Cuemoni and holds his right claw out to her. "Thissss one requessstsss a fruit."

Cuemoni's golden eyes nictate when Zeke makes the polite request. It's a truth that she has accepted readily since the day she learned that Zeke was particular about food preparation: their meals must be provided by Zeke or made in cooperation with him. It was never a problem after that.

But to be asked for a fruit...

She doesn't make the mistake of letting out a pleased noise for the request. She doesn't want to bait him into something that may turn out, in the act of exchange, to be too much for him, and increase his disappointment in himself all the more for letting her down. It's a tentative little thing, then, that she takes the fruit that she has portioned for herself and holds it out for Zeke to take. "You may have it," she says.

Telamon's expression is sedate, relaxed, a small smile on his lips. It's taking all his discipline though to keep from jumping up and down and cheering. Indeed, only the sparkle of starlight in his eyes might suggest he is a -bit- happier about this development.

"Precisely. No relationship can survive without trust. But in trust one finds -strength-. You no longer face the stones and arrows of life alone. The blows will still come, but you weather them together." Absently, his fingers trace the curious feather-wreath marking on the back of his left hand.

Zeke accepts the apple from Cuemoni, the firm fruit a light weight in his hand. It is unbitten, unsliced, a simple fruit in all regards. He reminds himself, as the sweet scent of it approaches his maw, that Telamon is a friend. That it is not tainted in any way simply because he does not know of where it comes from. Surely not the market given the season. No tree he knows of gives birth to fruit this late in the season. This line of thought quickly gives birth to anxiety, but the apple surely _smells_ like an apple.

There is a litany in his mind that this is real. That this is a real apple. That it is not fake. Flashes of half-baked thoughts float along the back portions of his mind, painting a mosaic of hated fear.

He eats the apple.

It is of course, delicious and sweet. It is not something other than what it seemed to be. The taste only serves to deepen his hunger, his stomach awakening to the slight bit of food with waves of ravenousness. He closes his eyes briefly, suppressing the demand from within. Dreams of things that he has not eaten in... years.

Meat, how he longs for meat. Beef, pork, the more exotic tastes of Am'shere. He's subsisted on venison - rarely - and fish for so long that even chicken is a luxury. Baked and fried and flavored with herbs. Grilled with vegetables. Eggs. He can't remember the last time he had an egg. His stomach growls, dissatisfied and fear chokes on the back of his throat. He stinks of it. Can not hide it or the longing that joins it.

He opens his eyes and realizes all of the sudden that he has accidentally broken Telamon's tea cup with his crystal claw. "Thissss one isss sssorry." He whispers, the broken shards of cup can not harm this part of him, but he has damaged the cup, and that is unforgivable.

Cuemoni cannot reassure Zeke, really, that it's okay. The teacup is Telamon's property. But it is... also just a teacup. "It can be replaced," Cuemoni says gently. "Are you alright? Are you hurt?"

Her tail curls just a little at the tip around Zeke's, a hug in of itself. "This one is very proud of you," she says just as softly as before. "You did something very brave. This one..."

Her voice is emotional, warbling a little on her next words. "This one is happy to be worthy of trust," she says with a realization. That it means the world to her that he is willing to give her trust. That he did something that he would not ordinarily do for her sake. It feels like watching a flower bloom in her hands because of her own magic did for the first time. Beautiful. Astonishing.

Telamon makes a small gesture. There's a whisper in the air -- of something unseen, intangible, but there all the same. The shards of the teacup are gently removed from Zeke's crystal claw, and float away into the kitchen. "I'll see if we can fix it later. A friend of mine once told me about the practice of arvulgingelt, mending something so that it is more beautiful." That same unseen servant returns with a towel, and mops up any stray splashes of tea. "But even if it can't be fixed... a teacup is a small price to pay in return for your trust -- both in me, and in Cuemoni." Soon, a new teacup comes floating in, and sets down on the table again.

"You do not have to discuss the nature of your... hm. Edicts? Anathema? Taboos? I admit I'm not sure how to express myself on this, which is terribly embarrassing for a diplomat. But I would add that even if you do not discuss it with me, you -must- discuss it with your cihuaa."

Zeke takes a breath, grateful beyond words to both Telamon and Cuemoni for their understanding. For their lack of judgement for his lack of self-control in destroying the small tea cup. As simple as magic, Telamon cleans up the remains and brings a new one, though Zeke dares not touch it yet. "No." He says softly. "Thisss one mussst sshare wordsss. You are owed that much through friendsssship Telamon, and you Cuemoni, asss thisss onesss companion."

It takes only a fraction of his self-control to quiet the hunger that he has stirred within himself. It has become... easy. "Thisss one wasss held for a very long time by a fae creature, who wasss fasscinated by the Forgotten." He looks at Telamon, not entirely sure if the other knows how such are made, but then remembers that Telamon is friends with Skielstregar. If they are close, then Telamon is likely at least somewhat knowledgeable about the subject.

"Sssshe captured thisss onesss friend, and forced thisss one to go with-out food. Tried to forsce thisss one to feed..." He clenches his jaw for a moment on the unpleasant memory. "Thisss one _refusssed_. Thisss one ssstarved. Thisss one could not reach the Dragonfather, but thisss one had faith. Thisss one would not become Forgotten. Ssshe usssed her magic to make thisss onesss friend look, sssmell... like other thingsss. Tried to trick thisss one into feeding."

Zeke blinks and oddly, his hunger now makes it easier to speak of such things. The knowledge that he has not fallen. Has never. "Thisss one wasss not descieved. But... thisss one fearsss desception. Fearsss that the passsage of time isss an illusssion and that thisss one will feed and... Become Forgotten."

It is a terrible admission.

The reason _why_ Zeke does not eat his food is... It's clear that Cuemoni had not expected this to be the reason why. No one could. It was a horrible thing. An abomination of the cruelest degree in terms of things that could happen to anyone--least of all anyone that Cuemoni thought to be as gentle and as wonderful as Zeke.

Her heart aches for him. Her claw reaches out for him, that he might hold it and derive comfort for it, but still she does not demand his touch, does not grab his claw in her own. "This one's heart aches for you," she says. "That you have endured such hardship and such darkness. That you have lived with this for so long--this one... This one imagines it was such a hard thing to keep secret from this one. But this one understands. It is hard to divulge the pain of the heart and the soul. Trust must be earned."

And... she'd earned that trust. A part of her aches for knowing that. That she has done only that which she considered to be right by Zeke, that she has considered his happiness in all things--he has come to trust her. How few people has Zeke come to trust in such a way because they did not give him the kindness and warmth that he gave to others so freely as a servant of the Dragonfather?

Golden eyes nictate. They well with tears. "This one will always stand by you," she says. "This one will stay by you. This one will always endeavor to speak truth so that you may continue to trust in this one." She cannot do anything about the perception of time. But she can, at least, promise to stay with him throughout Time. As long as he will have her.

Telamon's reaction is different, but no less heartfelt. His eyes blaze suddenly, and for a moment he's not the kindly, charming half-sil who offered the couple tea and refreshments as well as advice on their burgeoning relationship. He is the sorcerer, the archmage, and what was done to Zeke offends him.

For a long couple of moments, he sits there, his expression ominous. Then, gradually, his expression clears again, and he takes a deep breath. "I... apologize. I had quietly made inquiries at the Temple, you know -- I'd noticed a couple things, and I didn't want to offend by trying to offer something you couldn't, wouldn't be able to eat." He takes a deep breath. "You honor me with your trust, Zeke. I swear to you, by Ni'essa Sky-Singer and the Highest, Eli, I will never deceive you. I will be constant as the Guiding Star in this."

Cuemoni's claw is taken. Her presence, from her gentle scent - however distressed - to her gentle touch are a balm. Even Telamon's rage for a moment, a sharp spiky scent that draws Zeke's gaze to the shaman who is normally so peaceful, is a reminder that he is in the present moment. Telamon's anger is not directed at him, but at the Other. He finds that he is both surprised, and grateful that his friend should feel such things on his behalf. "Thisss one... isss ssso grateful for you both."

"When thisss one lassst ssshared sssuch wordsss... Thisss onesss cihuaa..." He pauses for a moment, his scent becoming bitterly sad. "Ssshe insssissted that thisss one ssseek absssolution. That thisss one might have failed to remember, ssslipped and eatten that which isss forbidden to all of the People." In truth, her lack of faith in him had stung more in his heart than even the torment of being uncertain of his own mind.

Yet here in this moment there is no such lack of faith in him, only steadfast resolution to stand by him, to be honest and trustworthy companions. He is overcome with gratitude for that fact. As Seldan had known his need such a long time ago, and merely taken him fishing, now these two see his need and merely offer their oaths to be steadfast. "Thisss one isss grateful, and thisss one will _try_, thisss one will try very hard to give the trussst that you both dessserve."

Something within Cuemoni breaks at the revelation that the woman that Zeke had called cihuaa had told Zeke such a thing. To doubt her mate. To doubt someone that had so clearly stayed the course, had refused that which would make him Forgotten even in the absence of other food--to doubt someone who called her cihuaa...

"She did not deserve you, Zeke."

The words finally leave Cuemoni like wildfire, like the flames that Cuemoni has always been comfortable with. "She did not deserve you. To be named cihuaa is to trust always in your mate. To care for them unconditionally. To demand you to atone for that which you did not do--it is unforgivable. The trust breaks for a good reason then. If this one were to do such a thing with the spirits, this one would be abandoned harshly. If this one were to do such a thing with other people, this one would be disowned as a friend and whispered about in rumor. Both for _good reason_."

Tears fall from Cuemoni's golden eyes. "This one... This one wanted to ask if this one could call you cihuaa, but abstained in the memory that you had one once. But this one..." She wrestles with herself for a moment longer. "This one cannot abide the memory of a cruel woman who did not deserve such a title. Not for this one's beloved Zeke. Not for... this one's love."

Her claw in Zeke's hand trembles. "This one loves you, Zeke," she says softly. As plain as day. No hiding it. It is out in the open like it is to be bathed in the Dragonfather's light.

Telamon can't tell what angers him more: that some fey creature might toy with Zeke like this, or that Zeke's prior relationship had imploded so dramatically. He takes another deep breath, and signals for the tea cups to be refilled so he can collect his thoughts for a moment.

"Cuemoni speaks truth. And love. I will not make your decisions for you, my friend," His lips curl up slightly. "But I do think you'd be wise to accept both. You have endured much -- I think you two would be good for each other."

Zeke is absolutely startled to hear Cuemoni's words. To say that one did not deserve _him_? The doubts of self swim large in his mind, but there is this quiet voice which is Telamon's, which reminds him softly. _Others do not see you as you see yourself_. To have others have faith in him, it lifts him up. To hear those words, soothes the burn and sting of those memories.

But there is more.

"Thisss one," He hesitates for a moment, but this is the time of telling of truths. He must be honest with them now, or never. "Thisss one hasss alwaysss sseeen the ssself ass lessser. Unworthy."

He looks at Telamon gratefully, and then back to Cuemoni. "Thisss one hasss a good friend, who hasss sshared wordsss of wisssdom, that thisss one isss not ssseen by othersss with the eyesss that thisss one hasss. That it isss posssible, that what thisss one ssseess ass flawed and lacking, that othersss might find... good. Thisss one could sssay many thingsss. That thisss one isss old. That thisss one isss flawed. That thisss onesss form isss undessirable."

He holds her claw gently and reaches out with his crystal one to wipe away her tears. He has never been able to shed tears of his own. Zeke has been without them his whole life. "But what thisss one _wantsss_ isss to sssay yesss. That thisss one holdsss the deepessst of affectionsss in thiss onesss heart for you Cuemoni. That thisss one... asss Telamon hasss put it, had a hole in thisss oness own ssself, which you are fitted neatly into. That thisss one issss joyed to ssee you in every day that we ssshare."

He wraps his tail around hers gently. "If thisss one can not offer you all the yearsss that you dessserve of happinesss, then thisss one would not deny you a moment longer in waiting for thisss one. If thisss one isss flawed, than thisss one will try to fix thessse flawsss like Telamon's cup, broken, but beautiful still. If thisss onesss form isss disspleassing, then thisss one will turn thessse eyesss to yoursss inssstead, and in that reflection find the ssself that _you_ love."

Zeke has, in his whole life, never said so many words as this, but every one, is true.

The tears flow down Cuemoni's turquoise scales, only to be brushed away by Zeke's claws, and she feels everything that she can possibly feel within her body for him. She's so saddened for him, that he has seen himself--sees himself--as lesser. That he's flawed. But his words of love and care bring her the joy that he so clearly has for her.

Her tail grows even closer to his. It is a mercy of the sith-makar form that, in this way, they can embrace without embracing as the softskins do.

"This one views you as perfect," she says, "because you are you--you are the person this one loves." It is as simple as that. "For the rest of the time that this one has with you--this one loves you and will love you, and this one will call you cihuaa." Her words are so gentle, but no less true, for they are a vow. "This one..."

A little noise comes from within her, of excitement, of joy, of awe. "This one has a cihuaa, and he is named Zeke."

Zeke beams at Cuemoni, and utters in the wake something utterly important to them both. "Thisss one hasss a cihuaa, and her name isss Cuemoni." His green eyes flicker to Telamon. "You are witnesss."

Wait... is this suddenly a sith-makar wedding? In Telamon's living room?

Telamon seems perfectly pleased by the way things have turned out, but then the specific intonations catch his ear. Wait, what? Isn't there... his mouth opens to say something, but then his brain catches up and he closes his mouth again. His expression becomes faintly abstracted, before he takes a long sip of tea. "Ah... I admit I wasn't familiar with specific customs about cihuaa. Although I guess fitting Cuemoni for a wedding dress might present certain challenges."

Yes, he's teasing a touch, but it's his nature. Tel nods to Zeke. "I am witness. Two trees, growing together, let none put you asunder."

He pauses, and then looks bemused. "Though now I wonder if I should've laid out a larger spread than just bread, fruit, and tea..."

Zeke chuffs lightly at Telamon's words, but his eyes are on his cihuaa. He knows that she knows what he's thinking now, because the scent of it is quietly thickening in the air. He drops his head a little abashed and then squeezes her hand and tail gently with his own. "Thissss isss enough. Thisss isss more than enough."

Cuemoni has much the same coming from her, that only Zeke can really discern--softskins typically lack the meaningful scenting qualities that the makari do have. Her golden eyes nictate, before they gain a glint of something playful, and she leans in to briefly, gently, and sweetly rub her cheek against his. A little sith-makar kiss.

She pulls back and looks at Telamon with golden eyes. "This one has seen the wedding dresses that softskins wear," she says, amused. "This one is not interested in such ceremony or pageantry. This one is content with cihuaa and with friend-witness."

Then Cuemoni squeezes back Zeke's hand in her own, returning the affectionate gesture. "This one loves you, Zeke," she says again, softly, as a reminder to her cihuaa even though she'd said it a moment before.

Telamon shrugs lightly, and grins. "Some traditions are kept because they make things meaningful for the participants. But to each their own. I'm not going to argue with you about it." His eyes sparkle with good humor and kindness. "Well, Zeke, I didn't expect this but I offer congratulations anyways. So my next questions are: what will you do now -- I suspect you'll need a proper nest. Oh, and is there anything I can do to help? Wedding gift, announcement in the Tribune, messages to someone you need to apprise of this?"

He leans back in his chair. "After all, what's the point of having all these fun toys if I don't let my friends play with them now and then? Figuratively speaking, of course."

Zeke blinks at the small show of affection and then rumbles low in his throat. It's a distinct sound of approval and pleased sith-makar. Almost like a purr of a cat, but much deeper and more gravely sounding. "Thisss one lovesss you, Cuemoni." He responds back softly.

Telamon's query is a sound one and he thinks for a long moment. "Thisss one doess not desssire a nessst in Alexandria." It's clear that expressing what he wants is a novel, and somewhat difficult thing for him. "Nor in Mictlan. But thisss one wissshess to sshare more time with Cuemoni, and sssharing a nessst would be good." He looks at her for a possible solution.

When Zeke looks to her for a solution, Cuemoni gives a happy little rumble herself. "This one is happy wherever we may settle," she says gently. "Perhaps this one can settle and build a place outside of the city, within the Heartlands, for our nest. This one also has... a tribe in Am'shere, but..."

Now she looks and smells uncertain. "They will want to know why this one has no wish for hatchlings, now that this one has a cihuaa." It's clear that the idea, then, of returning to the Xiuhcoatl tribe with Zeke is not her idea of a happy time. "And your honored kin resides in Alexandros, no? This one would not take you away from him, Zeke."

"If I might interject," Telamon remarks politely, "Children are a great responsibility. One should not seek children until one is ready to care for them, to raise them as they deserve. It's a lot of work for us softskins; I can't imagine it's any less work for the makari."

He looks sympathetically at Cuemoni. "Expectations can be a heavy burden. I think she might have the right idea, Zeke. Build a home here in the Heartlands. There are places you can go that none will look at you more than twice." He smiles. "I admit I'm partial to the Mythwood, but then, that IS my homeland. But go where you and Cuemoni want to go."

The blue-scale gives Cuemoni a comforting look. "The Heartlandssss would be a good plassce. Out-ssside the scity." He gives her tail a comforting stroke with his own. "It isss none of their bussssinesssss if we have hatchlingsss or no in any cassse. And you know that thisss one will never presssure you to sssuch."

Indeed not, they've discussed such matters before, and he has no interest in asking her to do a thing that she feels unready for. "If we ressside sssome-where near, then Ssseldan will be able to vissit often, and your tribe will be unable to offer much ssspeculation or judgement."

Cuemoni seems gladdened by Zeke's agreement and his support, especially in the matter regarding her tribe and the pressure for hatchlings. She leans in and gives Zeke another tiny rub of the cheeks. "This one is gladdened by your words," she says. "Your understanding means the world to this one--always has, always will." And the spirits know that she strives to repay his understanding with her own.

"The Heartlands," she agrees then. Her tail cuddles close to his. "This one will begin a search for such a place in the morning. For now..."

She looks between Zeke and Telamon. "This one... would like to go elsewhere with cihuaa." There's something bashful in her statement and in her eyes, yet when she turns to look back at Zeke, there's clearly another look of pride and joy. "If there is nothing else to discuss."

Telamon arches his eyebrows. "Do let me know when you've set up shop, won't you? I'll try and arrange a housewarming gift. A new beginning is something to be cherished, after all." He sets his teacup down, nodding. "I imagine you two have some things to talk to about... and you don't need me offering any unsolicited advice on the matter." He can't help but offer a wry smile.

"So hopefully, I will see you both again. I am glad to have helped in this endeavor -- and I look forward to seeing what will come of it."