Creation of Ash
Log Info
- Title: Creation of Ash
- Emitter/GM: Cuemoni
- Place: Caverns of Xiuhcoatl, Amantli, Am'shere
The entrance to the caverns of Xiuhcoatl are marked with several symbols etched deep into stones that surround the hole that goes into the earth, symbols that match many of the ones painted onto Cuemoni's scales. It is the first sight that the trio sees when Telamon's teleport resolves itself. Cuemoni sways a little, holding onto her Cihuaa for a moment a little tighter than she normally might.
"This one... may never get used to teleporting," she says, nausea in her scent and in her voice. But she recovers somewhat quickly. "But this one is ready to begin what needs doing before Yaonemitl can return from the hunt. His spear will likely inform him and he will return early as soon as we enter the caverns."
To Telamon, teleportation is literally as natural as walking. "If it helps, my cihuaa gets a little queasy about it, as well as a couple of my friends." He tilts his head. "I should've asked if that spear gave Yaonemitl any other tricks. Ah well. Guess I'll find out soon enough."
The disguised sorcerer taps his chin. "You two go on ahead. I'll follow, and keep out any unwanted guests until we get this sorted out. If you need me, call for me." He pauses, considering. "If you do call me in, I'll be discarding my disguise. I don't think approaching this spirit under a false face would be a good idea."
Zeke gently offers a little extra assistance to Cuemoni when she holds onto him for support. He is growing. Not only to allow such a casual touch, but to return it as well. Not so long ago, the mere thought that such would be a possibility for him would have been laughable. The blue-scale gently twines their tails together for a moment. "Thisss one thought sssuch oncse asss well Cuemoni. But one can grow usssed to a great many unpleasssant thingsss given time."
He waits for her to steady herself, but only just before beginning to lead the way inside. they have no time for the wasting. "Let usss be quick then. Thisss one hasss no doubt that Yaonemitl will come to sstop usss, but let him come too late, and at a time of our benefit."
Telamon's words draw his gaze and he shakes his head slowly. "We can not leave you behind Telamon. We have need of you, remember. You musst aid in the trial and sceremony to come. Sshed your illusssion, and walk with ussss."
Cuemoni's golden eyes regard Zeke with all the affection in her heart when he supports her and twines their tails together, if but for a moment. "It is true," she says. "Shaman Telamon, you are needed for the ceremony that is to come."
She follows Zeke inside, and once they have gone further than a few feet into the dark and damp cave--for the cave is certainly quite damp--there is the sound of water dripping and landing into more water, perhaps from somewhere further into the cave where there might be a greater body of water? But the group continues in relative darkness...
Until they come into view of a chamber. Inside the chamber, there are two ever-burning torches on stone pillars, where a somewhat small pool of water rests in a perfectly circular shape. Carved and shined obsidian surrounds the pool, resulting in the reflections of all things present in the chamber. A door awaits on the other side of the pool, also carved from the black stone that surrounds the pool.
Cuemoni stops just at the threshold into the chamber. She looks at Zeke and Telamon. "The Dragonfather said there is to be a trial," she says. "It may be this. This one is ready. Shaman Telamon, if you could block off our path before we enter?"
"Ah yes," Telamon comments with a wry smile. "There is that. Forth, then." As he steps forward, the appearance of Citlaltic seems to flake away from him in hexagonal pieces, dissolving to release the elegantly-dressed half-sil. Shorn of his illusion, Tel follows the pair onward.
As they pass into the chamber, Telamon is already half turning at Cuemoni's request. "Depending on how perceptive he is, Yaonemitl might be able to push through this, but I doubt it." He crooks his fingers, and begins to chant softly, gesturing and leaving trails of ghostly black energy. Gathering and weaving them, before they uncoil, filling the entrance to the cavern with a wall of blackened iron.
"And if he does, well, I do have other options."
GAME: Telamon casts Shades. Caster Level: 20 DC: 29
Zeke nods politely to Telamon. "Every moment of hesssitation isss to our advantage." He says, his tone grateful for the presence of the shaman in this moment. He moves to the door, and when the spell is cast and placed he looks into Cuemoni's eyes. The trial lies before them, but if the trial is in loving her, then it is no trial at all. He moves forward into the next chamber, toward the pool and the door beyond it.
The moment that Zeke enters the chamber, there's a churning from the pool, the waters within shivering--as two large serpents emerge from it, looking down at Zeke with strange eyes. One has a silver eye and a golden eye, and the one next to it has a golden eye and a silver eye. It's as though they are either twins or serpents made with the intention of being a pair.
Tongues flicker out from their mouths as they look down at Zeke, then at Cuemoni, who walks in after Zeke, and then Telamon. When they do speak, it is not with their mouths, but rather a pair of disembodied voices that seem to resound through the room.
"Tletlalia has sent us." It is impossible to tell which one is saying this. "Only those who are of righteous heart may pass through our flames unharmed. State your intention and then we shall bathe you in our fire. Xiuhcoatl must not be disturbed by the wicked; He is resting for a purpose that our Lady has intended for many cycles."
Telamon stares fearlessly up at the serpents, his starry eyes glimmering. "I greet you, in the name of Ni'essa Sky-Singer, the Dreaming Dragon, whom men call Eluna. We seek audience and counsel with Xiuhcoatl, and so we must endure your trial. Do what you must." His calm face is only betrayed by the tiniest twitching in his fingertips.
Zeke nods respectfully to the serpents. "Thisss one, and thiss onesss Cihuaa ssseek to roussse Xiuhcoatl from hisss ssslumber for the good of all. Thisss ssshaman comes with to aid usss. We ssstand ready to fasce any and all trialssss." The blue-scale is utterly calm and without a trace of concern or unease.
Cuemoni observes the serpents with their odd-colored eyes, golden eyes meeting silver-gold and gold-silver, and then, she speaks after Zeke does. "This one is Cuemoni, Shaman of the Xiuhcoatl tribe," she says, "and this one seeks to awaken the mighty spirit from his slumber, that this one's tribe may be saved from destruction and that... this one might right a wrong that has been committed."
The serpents stare at everyone impartially for a moment, tongues flickering out again, and then the voice speaks. "It is time to put the words to the truth."
One serpent turns and opens their maw, bathing the other half of the chamber where the stone door lies in waiting in flame. Despite the fact there should be nothing to keep the flame alive... It is there. "Go forward. Pass into the flame and be deemed righteous, or pass into the flame and perish."
Telamon takes a deep breath. Focusing. If the fires only burn the righteous, then... well, does he have anything to fear? He wraps himself in knowledge and memory, of the deeds done, lives saved, and the blessing his goddess has given. And then, with a calm, relentless step, he strides toward the flames, refusing to give an inch. He has sworn his assistance to Zeke and Cuemoni; he will not falter now.
Zeke offers a slight amount of pressure through his hand to Cuemoni. To reassure her. He has faith, as he has from the first day that he uttered his oaths to the Dragonfather. Faith that had endured every trial he has ever faced. He doesn't hesitate to follow Telamon, doesn't wait to see what fate befalls the shaman because he knows as sure as he is breathing that the flames will not kill him.
For all he has come to grips with the fate of Zalgiman Joaki, Telamon still regrets what happened. That the man's soul is at peace does not change that knowledge, that thought that Tel should've done more. And so he sees the man's face in the flames... and then his eyes slip past, to see Cor'lana, his life, his love, on the other side. Thought to action, and he steps forward, through the flames, blinking as he arrives at the door untouched.
The flames offer him not fire, but a thought. A great regret that he holds in the most secret places of his heart. A regret, of not being capable of being loved. Not being enough, for those whom he wanted to love him. Who were supposed to love him. His mother. His first cihuaa. His mate. His kin. His greatest regret in life has always been that he could not reach those whom were meant to love him. Yet in that regret he looks forward and finds Cuemoni there. The moment that she'd said she loved him. Wanted him as her cihuaa. Wanted to be a part of his soul. His greatest joy is in her touch, her presence. He moves toward her without hesitation, because his regret is in the past and his joy is with him, waiting for him in the future; and no regret can keep him.
Cuemoni is the last to follow through the flames. It's odd, really. She is, in some ways, a spirit akin to that of fire, yet the moment she knows she could well be consumed by the flames... It inspires a moment of hesitation.
And then Zeke goes into the flame.
"This one will be judged," she murmurs as she goes into the flame. And for her, regret takes on the shape of her elder, Chimalxochitl--how the elderly woman had told her in her very last words to go. Cuemoni should have stayed. She sees Chimalxochitl in the flames and she wants to shed tears of sorrow, but the heat is so intense.
But she sees Zeke in the flames next: the joy she had not expected to find when she came from Am'shere to the land of the softskins. Her heart had grown to fit all of the care she had come to feel for him. She had not expected to ever feel the way she does for him. A Cihuaa is a beautiful thing, a wonderful thing--and her Cihuaa is a beautiful Cihuaa, a wonderful Cihuaa.
She emerges from the flames by the door, and she looks at Zeke with those golden eyes... And her tail goes to intertwine around his. "Cihuaa," she murmurs, before she looks at Telamon. "Friend."
But the tender moment is short-lived by the distant sound of shouting. Not yet made it through the cave, but it sounds like perhaps there might be someone by the mouth of the cave. "Go forth," the serpents say beyond the flames from which the trio came. "We will guard Xiuhcoatl, as is our purpose."
Telamon exhales, flicking a perhaps mildly irritated glance at the guardians before dismissing the thoughts. "I think we need to hurry," he says. With that, he pushes the door open, striding inside. But he does give Cuemoni a crooked grin, eyes twinkling. "Indeed. Friend. Can never have too many of those."
As the trio enters, he remarks, "He's probably wondering who put the wall up right about now. And complaining about it, loudly, judging from the noise."
Zeke gives Cuemoni the look that her words deserve. His eyes filled with his deep and abiding affection for her. He takes her claw again and nods respectfully to the serpents. "Cihuaa." His voice is softly touched with emotion, and he leads her after Telamon into the adjoining room. "Then we mussst go, asss quickly asss we are able."
Cuemoni gladly goes with Zeke, claw-in-claw, as they enter past the doors and... There's stairs. They go down, down, down, into the earth, and there's a moment where one might wonder if the stairs do ever end.
But then finally, there's an end to the stairs... and an open entrance into another chamber, this one quite a bit bigger than the last. The reason for it is apparent as the trio gets right into the entry-way of the chamber. There's a giant pool, carved from more obsidian, which should be filled with water... But it isn't.
It is instead filled with a massive serpent. Turquoise scales gleam in the light of the torches that are placed around the chamber in more stone pillars. Brilliant blue and red feathers jut out along the serpent's spine, and the serpent's awe-inspiring form is only made all the more awe-inspiring when one sights the slender wings that jut out from the serpent's form, alternating in blue and red feathers. The head of the brilliant creature itself is adorned with a 'mane' of these feathers, although it might be more accurate to call it a crown.
"Xiuhcoatl," Cuemoni breathes in astonishment, before kneeling to the floor in reverence. "This one..." Another breath. "This one greets the patron spirit of the tribe: Xiuhcoatl, mighty spirit, mighty water, mighty flame."
There's a small rumble from within the beast...
"Is it time?" The voice resounds through the chamber, a deep and masculine voice. "Alas, I cannot wake until the ceremony of matrimony is completed. Tletlalia's terms were quite strict on that subject."
Telamon blinks three times. "Well," he murmurs. "I guess I should've expected this. Alright then, let's get this moving..."
He takes a deep breath. "My lord Xiuhcoatl, I greet you in the name of the Dreaming Dragon, whom I know as Ni'essa Sky-Singer. I am called Telamon Lupecyll-Atlon. I bring before you Zeke of Alexandria, and Cuemoni of your tribe, to be bound together in blessed matrimony. What say you, my lord?"
Zeke does not complain about the stairs, but he is not a youngling anymore. The place where his left leg joins to his body is a deep, solid ache that grinds with each step after a certain point. And yet there are still more stairs. He pushes himself to keep moving forward at the same pace, and he feels a small tinge of amusement at his own envy of Telamon and Cuemoni with their younger forms. That amusement allows him to acknowledge that his own has always been this way. As with everything else in this, this is a trial. So he offers not a single word of complaint.
Cuemoni kneels before the great and beautiful creature that is the spirit who protects her people. It is not an easy thing to follow her. It would have been easier to go to only one knee, but he is too tired now and he can not. There's a small pop in his hip-joint as he manages to reach the ground to kneel as he should to offer his own reverence to this great protective spirit. He repeats Cuemoni's words, trusting that they are the proper offering to this being. "Xiuhcoatl, thissss one greetsss the patron sssspirit of the tribe: Xiuhcoatl, mighty sssspirit, mighty water, mighty flame."
There's another rumble that comes from within Xiuhcoatl, and while the serpent's eyes are closed... There is a sense that somehow, he might be watching the trio.
"Zeke and Cuemoni." The words are said like Xiuhcoatl is giving them a try-on first. "Yes. You will do."
The great tail of the beautiful feathered serpent shakes a little, and then two cloaks appear in front of Zeke and Cuemoni. The cloak that is in front of Zeke looks almost like it is made of water, translucently blue and touched at the ends by the crescent-foam of waves. The cloak in front of Cuemoni looks like it is made of phoenix feathers, gleaming and burning at the tips of each plume. Both are fastened at the neck by chains as gold as Cuemoni's eyes.
"Tletlalia and I are engaged to be married." Xiuhcoatl's voice is rather matter-of-fact about this. "It is an arrangement many cycles in the making. But she is a spirit of the volcano, and were I to approach her now, without love in my heart... We would create walls of ash and cooled land, walls that would separate us instead of bringing us together. Thus, we must have two individuals willing to harbor us for a time... At the price of binding them to each other. We hoped we would find two individuals--one of my people, and one from beyond--who would model for us love, that we might grow to love each other as they do."
Cuemoni looks up, golden eyes blinking. "The cloaks... They are you and Tletlalia?"
"Yes." Xiuhcoatl's voice is gentle. "Should you be willing, Zeke and Cuemoni... Decide which cloak you are willing to wear. Telamon, you must be the one to place the cloak upon them. After that, you will be given the words to recite to begin the ceremony."
Zeke looks at the two cloaks, and in truth he knows not which is he. Yet... He feels that amusement again. Amusement at himself for being uncertain for even a second. He has always been the calm, the water trying to fit itself into the shape necessary for love. A shape he never needed to alter because in any shape, he was himself. He looks at Cuemoni, and knows that she is the fire. The flame of desire and the heat of love. His tail snakes closer to her own and he knows that there is no question. "Thisss one isss water. And you, thisss onesss flame." It is not a question, because this is merely the truth of them.
Cuemoni's eyes are filled with love again as Zeke speaks. It is indeed their truth, and she nods emphatically to the words. "It is true," she says. "This one is fire, and you are the water that inspires calm in this one's heart."
She doesn't rise right away. In some way, it doesn't feel right to--not until Telamon puts the cloak on her. "Go ahead, Shaman Telamon," she says gently. "This one is ready to receive the cloak of Tletlalia's flame."
The half-elf nods, and smoothly goes to collect the cloak of fire... draping it over Cuemoni's shoulders first. Then Telamon collects the cool cloak of water, and turns to place it over Zeke's shoulders as well. His starry eyes shine with light, as he takes his place before the two.
"We are ready, lord Xiuhcoatl," he says in a calm voice. "Let us begin."
As the cloak is laid across his shoulders, Zeke feels a familiar sense of false calm lay itself over him. The sensation is so familiar that he instinctively relaxes into it. It is not totally the same as offering himself to be a voice for the Dragonfather, but it is not so unalike it either. He breathes out and remains where he is, waiting patiently for the moment when the ceremony will truly begin.
When Cuemoni feels the cloak of fire on her shoulders, she feels strength and conviction burning with her. Bravery. Boldness. Yet like Zeke, she does not rise.
Until Xiuhcoatl's voice speaks again. "We will begin. Telamon you will repeat the following. 'Rise, Zeke, who harbors Xiuhcoatl, spirit of the water, and Cuemoni, who harbors Tletlalia, spirit of the volcano.' Then you will motion for Zeke and Cuemoni to take hands. You will then ask them--us--if we consent to be joined as equals. Then you will ask if we understand that the bond that is to be formed is eternal. Once they--we--say yes, they--we--must open their--our--hands and throw the ashes that form inside the hands into the empty pool where I slumber. One final act will be conducted by the result of the ashes--and the ceremony will be complete."
Telamon takes a deep breath. His eyes flick to the doorway. Making sure no one comes through, before he begins.
"Rise, Zeke, who harbors Xiuhcotal, spirit of the water, and Cuemoni, who harbors Tletlalia, spirit of the volcano." Tel's voice rises and falls, sonorous and steady. He gestures for Zeke and Cuemoni to clasp hands, before he continues.
Zeke's bodily pain takes a back seat to the needs of the moment. Besides, kneeling for some time has eased some of the discomfort. He does as he is bid, rising to his feet. Without thinking and without hesitation he offers his claw to Cuemoni. Zeke has done so, so many times that it is almost a habit, a fact that fills him with the smallest edge of joy. He has worked hard to reach this point. The point where someone is such a comfort to him that it is simply natural to reach for them. He doesn't need Telamon's words, would have offered that hand in any instance, and that means the world to him.
Cuemoni's claw, when she takes Zeke's in her own, is warm, warmer than it normally is even when they fall asleep by the fireplace in their home out, curled up together in a pile of blankets, pillows, and warmth. Her golden eyes seem to possess a fire in them that dances within the warm metal color. Tletlalia seeks to understand love--and it is her love for Zeke that shines in her eyes. She is ready.
GAME: Telamon rolls perception: (18)+33: 51 GAME: Cuemoni rolls Perception: (19)+8: 27 GAME: Zeke rolls Perception: (10)+9: 19 GAME: Telamon casts Wall of Force/Quicken. Caster Level: 20 DC: 28
With the smoothness that comes from experience and power, Telamon casually murmurs a swift spell, and a field of hexagons shimmers across the doorway before fading. Without missing a beat, he continues the ceremony.
"Do you consent to be joined as equals?" Telamon's voice rings out. He doesn't expect them to say no, but the forms must be observed. Tradition does have its own value, after all.
"Yessss." Zeke says the word without hesitation or pretense. He knows not why Telamon speaks his spell, his eyes, his ears, his whole self is dedicated to Cuemoni. Nothing else in this world exists save for her. He had said it once and meant it. To share their selves with one another is the greatest honor that he can imagine. Up there with being chosen by the Dragonfather in the first place. He feels now as he had then. Filled with a warmth that is indescribable in words.
"Yes," Cuemoni responds in kind. She means it so wholly and without any pausing on her part, just like her Cihuaa. She focuses on him, her Cihuaa with his blue scales that remind her of water, his green eyes like the earth that is nourished by the water, his crystal claw that bears a transparency to them like water so often does.
Yet she cannot help but perceive the more obvious sounds that come from the direction of the long and winding stairway. Another shout, frantic steps--steps so frantic that they must be quickened by magic. "Cuemoni!" Yaonemitl bellows, who has somehow survived Tletlalia's flames. It will be a little time before he can reach the bottom of the stairs.
And with the wall of force in place, Yaonemitl will not be able to disrupt the ceremony. Telamon, therefore, moves things along. "Do you understand that this bond is eternal?" he asks calmly. Almost there. Once they say yes, they'll throw the ashes into the pool. After that, well...
They'll just have to wing it.
"Yes." Zeke wants that, to have Cuemoni's love not only in the measure of the years that he can offer her, but in the thought that in the life offered to him after that he might be with her there as well. Having lived more than three hundred and forty years without any love save that of his god. He is just selfish enough, to want them both. He lets Cuemoni direct their claws.
"Yes," Cuemoni says gently. And there comes something from their claws--a feeling of something... Warm, very warm, like a candle put to the scales. She looks down and takes her hand from Zeke, revealing ashes in her claw, still hot and burning down, despite the fact there had not been anything within their hands to burn--except, perhaps, their love for each other. Her tail intertwines around his as she looks toward the empty pool that Xiuhcoatl dwells in.
She tosses in the ashes.
Xiuhcoatl's eyes open. They are a beautiful golden color, like Cuemoni's but so much more. The pool fills with water rapidly to meet the ashes as they descend in the air, and where they make contact, steam rises up. Except the water... moves, and the steam continues to rise as the ashes incorporate into the aquatic embrace of Xiuhcoatl's pool. The water rises from the pool, but it darkens and morphs into a new shape that rapidly cools and becomes solid.
A sith-makar leaves the pool, scales of gray like the color of the ash that had hit Xiuhcoatl's water. This new makari moves gracefully, and yet, the one more looks at them... It is apparent that their scales are not merely just scales. There is a pattern that dances along the grooves of their scales. It looks like the crystal of Zeke's blessed limbs, like the scales had once been shattered but were put back together in the artful repair of crystal. Something that is more beautiful because it had once broken.
The sith-makar's eyes open. Golden eyes, but they're iridescent in a way that makes them seem almost green when they move. "I am the child of Tletlalia and Xiuhcoatl," they say. "I am that which repairs what has once been broken. I am Cuanextli, the ash that will restore the land."
The sith-makar raises its claws. "Come to me, Mother and Father of my Heart, and I will complete the bond begun by the Mother and Father of my Divine Soul."
Yaonemitl's anguished scream is louder as he finally makes contact with the wall of force that keeps him at bay. "CUEMONI!" The sound of metal and fury striking against an immovable wall rings out.
Completion. Benediction. It's a fascinating display, very different from anything Telamon's seen. And yet... there are traces, things he recognizes. The melding of patterns on Cuanextli, the mixing of elements. These are things he's seen before.
But it appears his work is at an end, at least for this part of the task. And so, as Cuanextli reaches out to take the hands of Zeke and Cuemoni, the half-elf turns his face to Yaonemitl, flailing at the wall of force.
"Yaonemitl," he says in a cold voice. "Liar. Blasphemer. Defiler. Murderer. I name you all these. In the name of Ni'essa Sky-Singer, whose gift of prophecy you tried to profane, I curse you. She sees you, Yaonemitl. I see you." His voice reverberates ominously. "Face me. Flee from me. There will be no escape from Her judgement."
Zeke looks at Cuemoni. A child born of their heart is not an expected result, and for the first time, even with the divine and the willingness of his own being... he hesitates. He hesitates out of love. He looks at Cuemoni and knows that he can not, will not, move forward without her.
Cuemoni has always been clear, that she does not wish to have nestlings of her own. Even now, he remembers this. This may be not a child born of her body, but Cuanextli is still in part theirs, and he will not move to lay claim to it without her fullest consent. Even if it means their death. Even if it means the death of all those in the tribe. The death of all those who rely upon these spirits for their protection. So this must be her choice. The first step must be hers.
When she walks forward, if she walks forward, he will be with her every step. No matter the choice she makes.
It is clear, from the widening of Cuemoni's golden eyes, that she takes in Cuanextli's appearance and registers it much the same as Zeke does. A child that is... born of their heart, if not of body.
Yet she takes a breath. The emotion that is in her voice is a mixture of so many things. "This one does not understand. You are... Our child?"
"Partially," Cuanextli responds. "To be formed, I required a mortal vessel that would be born of you carrying the mantles of Tletlalia and Xiuhcoatl. I have four parents: the spirits Tletlalia and Xiuhcoatl, who formed my soul, and the Shamans Cuemoni and Zeke." Their hands are still held out. "I understand that it is upsetting, but you are not responsible for caring for me and raising me. I am formed already of my parents' hearts and souls, born for a specific purpose."
After a moment, Cuemoni nods gently, looking at Zeke. "It's okay," she says as she reaches out to take Cuanextli's hand. "This one loves you. And... This one loves the child we have helped to make."
Yaonemitl, however, does not back down from the wall of force, screaming in frustration. "That was meant to be our child!" he howls. "This one does not fear you, softskin pretender! This one will claim what this one was intended to do!"
The warmth of the voices behind him stir Telamon's heart, and he treasures them, letting them fill him with resolve. But now he has business to tend to. His dark eyes glow with distant starlight as he regards the howling, frustrated Yaonemitl.
"You will do nothing of the sort, murderer." Telamon's face is a mask of ice. There's no hate there. No, it's just contempt for this creature. "To gain Cuemoni, you would have to get past Zeke. And before you get to Zeke... you will have to face me." His hair is starting to lift around his face, waving around. "I offer you one last chance to flee. Then I will deal with you myself."
There is no hesitation in Zeke at all beyond concern for Cuemoni's heart. That this child exists is to him a thing he had never thought to ask for. Both his child and not. Born of his love for Cuemoni, and the hope of a future better than the one that they exist in now. He takes that hand gently, and nods his head low to the figure of ash. Yellow-green eyes. So like hers. So like his. "Thisss one wantssss only for you to know... that thisss one will never forget thisss gift. Thisss gift of you. Thisss gift of union. Thisss one isss grateful."
As Cuanextli takes the hands given, the gray-scaled figure nods gently to Zeke's words. "I will, in turn, always be grateful for what you have done," Cuanextli says. "I would not exist without two mortals who took on the mantles of my parents--the both of you."
Then Cuanextli begins.
- "I am the ash of the land that burns,
- I am the ash of the water's churn;
- I am creation and destruction:
- I am rebirth's induction."
The gray-colored sith-makar begins to glow. The cloaks disappear from Zeke and Cuemoni's shoulders, but they leave marks where they had clasped around both makari's bodies. Intricate symbols like the ones that Cuemoni paints onto her head every day, but these are the color of ash.
"Forever now you are linked," Cuanextli intones, "and forever now I am empowered to renew the land." Then, they let go of Cuemoni and Zeke's hands.
Only now does Yaonemitl finally break through the wall of force, tears burning in the sith-makar's eyes. "No! No, no, no, no, no! You can't take this from me!" He makes the foolish mistake of charging at Telamon.
Telamon is rather impressed Yaonemitl was able to break through the wall; he's seen Aryia punch through his force effects but it takes time. But, sadly, he has chosen to do so, and to not take Telamon's mercy.
The stars and moon can be kind, but they can also be pitiless to those who scorn them.
There's a trace of sadness in Telamon's face, as he raises his hand to Yaonemitl. "Goodbye," he says calmly. And then he snaps his fingers, the sound reverberating... space itself rippling like water after a stone is dropped into it.
And then there is a great black void wrapping around Yaonemitl, a hole in reality that pulls him in. Beyond can be seen glimmering stars, and perhaps the curve of a planet. An angry scream, punctuated by the rush of wind -- and then silence, as the hole slams shut again after drawing Yaonemitl in.
Telamon shakes his head. "Such villainous nonsense."
Zeke is not capable of shedding tears, but this does not make him incapable of emotion. He watches their child withdraw, and he turns to Cuemoni, filled with that soft emotion. He feels a strange pressure in his face that he can not explain. A familiar welling of pressure in his chest. He loves her so much. There is nothing but her in this moment.
He hums to her, the reassurance, the love of her that is inside him. Incapable of words and he rubs his cheek against hers, draws her to himself. It is done, but the completion of their task doesn't make him love her less. Only more. Forever, eternally, more.
He closes his eyes, and he thinks the wetness on his face, must be hers.
Cuemoni, marked with the symbols of spirit-matrimony and harmony, looks at Zeke, and... The moment Zeke closes the distance to rub her cheek, she closes the distance some more and embraces him. It feels like Zeke is the other half of her soul now. To be apart from him feels hollow, feels incomplete.
There are tears. Whose they are doesn't matter because they belong to them both. "Zeke," she says softly.
Cuanextli hums a noise of approval to Telamon's swift action. "Good," the ashen makari says, before lumbering forward to the entrance of the room, where Yaonemitl had been before. He'd left behind the spear of Tletlalia, not taken on the cosmic journey that Telamon's just sent him on, and when Cuanextli takes it in one hand...
The spear burns away into flame. "It returns to its rightful home," Cuanextli says, before looking at the trio. "My spirit parents must be about their long-delayed honeymoon, but for now? I will work on restoring order to the tribe--and to ensure that, should your people build new nests, they will not be in vain."
Those golden-green eyes nictate. "The cycle is renewed and reforged. From fire comes ash. From ash comes life."
Telamon sighs. "Even though his sins were great, I would have spared him in the hope he would find redemption." He squares his shoulders. "But every soul is responsible for its own destiny."
Brushing his hands off a bit theatrically, he turns to smile at the newlyweds. "...Ah, a honeymoon. Well now, Zeke, Cuemoni, your offspring does have a point. And having traveled more than a bit, I can suggest several places if you are interested. Why don't we go get some tea, maybe a snack, and we can discuss it?"
His dark eyes sparkle with good humor. "After all, it should be something memorable, to look back on fondly -- and perhaps even revisit, when the time comes around again."
Zeke pulls away then, though not entirely. His arm is wrapped around Cuemoni. His claws twined with hers. His body close to those lovely scales which hold such life and luster. Zeke nods low to Telamon. Acknowledging his words, but his whole self is too entangled with thoughts of Cuemoni. "Yesss. Thiss one would like to sserve Cuemoni sssome tea, and to take her sssome-where nisce. Sssome-where warm, and good. Where sssshe will be happy."
Each step he takes is with her. From now on, his life will be as devoted to her, as it is to the Dragonfather. It could never be any other way.
Cuemoni's golden eyes sparkle with the offering of tea and Zeke's retained closeness. "This one would like that, Zeke," she says gently, "but only if the place makes you happy too."
That draws a rumbling laugh from Cuanextli. It's close to how Cuemoni laughs. "His happiness is your happiness, Mother," the ashen makar replies, "and your happiness is his happiness. Be well, the both of you."
The ash-bringer who will revitalize the tribe leaves, and Cuemoni stays there in Zeke's embrace. "This one would like to discuss the options?" she suggests. "There are many places in the world to go."
Her voice is only that of joy as she adds, "But we have time together yet to experience them all, Cihuaa."