Dead Man Walking

Temple District, Midday

The city is suffused in a blanket of grey and cold, the aftermath of a snowfall layered on the streets and buildings, a dull blob in the sky doing its best to keep illuminated. But really, just succeeds in making a sleepy environ.

However, the Temple district never truly sleeps, some sermon always ongoing, the streets scraped free of snow from either groundskeepers or foot traffic. Snowbanks pushed aside are a ripe source of enjoyment for the kids that plow through, being climbed on, slid down, used for ammo in a makeshift snowball fight.

One pile is left abandoned a gang of children after they were finished building... something. A bit crumbles away, revealing a smattering of a shiny silver scaled head poking out of a mound. Eyes flutter open. "... w... wuh?"

Skielstregar fell asleep on a bench and has been buried. "... mmmm...." he rumbles happily, looking like he'll fall back asleep.

From the Temple of Daeus comes a sith-makar of that deity. He is a familiar sight in this region, though perhaps slightly more so inside the actual temple than out here. Bundled up somewhat against the cold, Zeke is notably lacking a cloak to cover himself with. This is notable mostly because the sith seems uncomfortable with the chill, rubbing his crystal claw over his dark blue scales.

He heads toward the snow pile that is Skielstregar with the intent of using the bench, a small basket in his claw which tells a story of some sort of meal break, but he stops short when he realizes - rather belatedly - that there is someone already occupying it. Uncertain of who it is initially he scents the air. "Peasssse on your nessst." Zeke offers politely and with no small curiosity. "Ssskielssstregar?"

Mmmm. Nice... cold... it's like a weighted blanket! Skiel sinks a bit into the snow before-

"... mmmrh?" He stirs, sniffing once. Twice. Blink. The whole pile cracks and crumbles to his ankles as Skielstregar suddenly sits upright. Ice and snow stick to him in odd places, the worst being an icicle dangling from his lower jaw. "S-SShaman Zeke!" he stammers, sitting upright in his simple tunic and pants, hands on his knees. "Peassse on your nesst!"

A glance to the basket. "It isss morning breakfasst?" he scratches his head. "Thisss one lossst track of time."

In fact, Zeke looks at the sky himself upon the question of which meal he is eating, clearly a little unsure himself of the time. "Yessss, it ssseemssss ssso. Thisss one hasss been at odd hourssss, ssso mealsss come when they do, regardlesss of the time." He shifts his tail with some amusement, half-lifting the basket somewhat and nodding to the bench that Skielstregar has cleared by sitting up. "May thisss one join you? Thisss one will ssshare the meal?"

"Yess, of coursss!" Skiel readily agrees, hopping off the bench and plunging a hand into the snow briefly to pull out a familiar, not-stuck-on-top-of-a-gazeebo halberd. He rests it against a nearby wall before his tail does a few large sweeps on the bench and ground, clearing the rest of the snow away. "Pleassse, sssit, Ssshaman."

Taking a seat on one half, he quizzically looks to the bluescale. "Erm, if thisss one may asssk, what hasss you up ssso late?"

Zeke nods politely to Skielstregar, moving around the other male to join him on the bench. The halberd gets a quick glance before he's sitting down slowly. Carefully. Once he's seated he begins opening his basket, rumbling a little as he does so thoughtfully. "Thisss one had been helping out at the Temple to the Dragonfather, a few daysss passst, one wasss brought to thisss onesss care." He pulls out a filet of fish and lacking other utensils, breaks it in half with his claws offering half to the silver-scale at his side. "Thisss one wasss not sssure they would make it, but they live, and are recovering. Thisss one hass been at their bed-ssside."

There's a twitch of an arm, almost looking as if Skiel was going to reflexively offer a limb to help Zeke sit, but he holds himself back. There's a look of concern, but a sigh of relief escapes the silverscale. "That isss good," he rumbles, looking to the fish. "Oh! Thank you Ssshaman for the meal," he bows his head, taking the portion between two fingers and-

Chomp. It's all gone! "An excellent breakfassst," he grins, tail swooping behind him. A hand cleans his face off, and he resumes, "Thisss one isss glad you were able to keep them from seeing the Deathsssinger, Ssshaman. It'sss never a fun undeavor to hear their song, dessspite how sssoothing it may be sssometimesss."

Though there's not much in the way of the food to be had, particularly with it split between them, Zeke is much slower at eating his. While he certainly could have chomped it down in one bite, he takes his time and eats it in a few, chewing slowly and nodding to Skeilstregars words. "Thisss one iss glad alssso. It is not alwayssss sso."

He finishes his fish and pulls out of the basket one very small apple. With a twist and a snap he breaks the apple in half. It makes a sharp noise when he does so and he eyes Skeilstregar with one green eye. It's clear that he is considering saying something, and that what comes out of him is not what he might have said otherwise. "Would you like thissss asss well?" He offers half the apple.

Skielstregar rumbles warmly, him taking a glance to Zeke. "Yesss, fisssh isss good. They like it a lot. And bacon."

A singular, dead silver eye meets green briefly before he looks off towards the temple of Daeus. "Ah. Thisss one will passs, you are busy, need the energy. Thank you."

A beat. "Isss there sssomething you wissh to asssk, Ssshaman? Thisss one hasss many thingsss to asssk as well, but they do not wisssh to tire you. Asssk away."

The blue-scale looks at the two pieces of apple in his claws and delicately eats them. First one half, then the other. "Thisss one hasss a quessstion yesss, but thisss one musst think perhapsss a bit more on how to assk it." Zeke swishes his tail at the other male, indicating his amusement with himself. "Ssshare wordss with thisss one Sskielssstreagar. Thisss one iss would welcome them."

Skiel bobs his head. "Very well," the silverscale rumbles, tail flicking back. He rubs his jaw, finding the lone icicle and breaking it off. "Hmm..." the silverscale ponders, using the icicle to scrape between his fangs before tossing it aside.

He turns to Zeke, folding his hands in his lap. "Ssso. Erm. Thisss one hasss not run into many kin that follow the Dragonfather and hisss brilliance. They were going to asssk you in Mictlan, but thisss one was..." A glance to the sky. "... a bit... difficult to approach. And you were busy."

Back to Zeke. "The Father isss strong with you. Thisss one wondersss how sssuch relationship ssstarted."

The question makes Zeke blink, but he doesn't seem to mind it at all. For a moment there's the distant gaze of memory in his green eyes and then he turns them on Skielstregar. "Thisss one wasss very lossst when thisss one left the nessst. Thisss one wassss not then ass you sssee thisss one now." He lays a claw on his crystal arm and looks at the limb fondly for a moment. "Thisss one wassss bereft of limbsss, thisss one sssaw ssself asss broken. And then one day thisss one came to a temple."

The blue-scale touches the symbol of Daeus that hangs from his neck and he lifts his crystal limb so that the other male might see it better. It shimmers in the light. "Thesssse were there. Two limbsss made of crysstal. Ass if they were made for thisss one. Waiting. Thisss one had never imagined being... whole. You mussst imagine thisss one very much younger Ssskeilsstregar. Eager to earn wholeness. Thisss one did not know then that wholeness doess not come from having limbsss."

He lowers his claw and shifts his tail. "But that, isss another sstory."

Skielstregar looks down to the crystal limb, him ducking a bit to get a better look as such an inspection is offered. Cautiously, he reaches a digit out to give a crystal forearm a poke. "... wow. Sssuch a gift from the Dragonfather," he rumbles in barely-muted awe. "For a younger you, thisss one can underssstand. Thisss one iss still young. They still yearn to be whole, but that isss long passt. If thisss one wasss in your possition, they too might have been with the Father like you," he laughs quietly."

The silverscale bobs his head. "Another ssstory for another time," Skiel chuffs. "Do they get cold? Your leg and arm? Thisss one knowss these landsss are not like Am'sshere, the cold isss strange for many kin."

His tail slowly flicks from side to side. "... thisss one lovesss the cold."

Zeke allows the poke, nodding to Skeilstreagar's words. The limbs _are_ a gift, and he has never been less than held in awe of them himself. "They do not get cold, or warm. They do not... feel asss flesssh and blood doesss, but thisss one would not change them even if thisss one would be given real onesss." He looks at the snow and huffs an amused noise. "Thisss one hasss little fondnesss for the cold, but it isss very different from Am'ssshere yesss?"

The blue-scale chuckles a little bit and looks at Skeilstregar. "Thisss one will asssk now. Thisss one... hasss noticed that you sssome-timesss sseem..." Zeke seeks the word out that is the right one. "Nervousss around thisss one. Thisss one hopesss that thisss one hasss not offended?"

Skiel pokes his own forearm, as if comparing the two. "Thisss one would not either. They are a part of you, and are very shiny!" he grins. "Ah. Yesss, mosst kin do not like it, very different from the warmth of Am'sshere. Thankfully there are many placess to get warm? Thisss one is jussst glad they get to experience sleeping in the snow."

So it's not an uncommon occurrence then.

The question rendered makes Skielstregar blink, then subtly glance away. "... erm. No, you... you have not, Ssshaman Zeke. Thisss one.. erm."

He fidgets with his hands. Takes a breath. "Thisss one jussst wisshes to make a good impression..!" Skielstregar admits, words spilling out of his frozen maw. "You- um- thiss one... wantsss to be a good Sunblade. And ssseeing another kin be blessed by Him fillsss thiss one with determination! Thiss one, um, hass had many difficulties with sssuch thingsss, but thisss one hopess one day for, um, your guidance? Maybe. If thiss one issn't... overstepping? They're overstepping."

His face slowly has been gaining a frost, a few icicles forming on his maw.

Zeke chuckles again, trying to put the other male at ease. "Thisss one would be well pleassed to offer guidance Ssskielsstreagr! That isss thisss onesss purpossse. To heal, and to help. There iss no over-ssstepping in thisss. Thisss one isss sshaman-cassste. It isss good." He shifts his tail back and forth, emitting a calming scent for the silver-scale.

Skielstregar ducks his head, letting out a tight sigh. "Okay, that isss- that isss good," he rumbles in after-nerves. The calming feeling helps, but it mingles with latent nerves from the silverscale. "Thisss one is glad that you wisssh to help."

He cycles a breath. "Thiss one ssspoke with Sshaman Andelena a while back. She isss wise. Thisss one is... trying to understand bessst serve Him without... feeling Him," he mentions, tone growing quieter to a bassy whisper. "It isss.... hard. To know... what to do?"

"Ssshaman Andelena isss a good healer thisss one thinksss." Zeke replies, nodding. He carefully repacks his basket with the cloth that had been holding everything in place and settles his claws - mismatched as they are in his lap. "It isss not alwaysss easssy to know the will of the Dragonfather, but you are a Ssssunguard yesss?"

Zeke tilts his head. "Do you not feel Hisss light when you heal another? Have you not asssked a ssshaman to commune with Him on your behalf?" He glances downward. "Thissss one would be willing to offer sssuch aid Ssskeilssstregar. Thisss one hass done sssuch before."

The line of questioning makes Skiel grow anxious. "... t... thisss one cannot heal another, Ssshaman Zeke. Thiss one... wass a Ssunblade. They sstill try to live like one, but they are not."

He curls his claws, looking pointedly at the ground. "... Ssshaman Zeke. It... humbless thisss one that you offer sssuch to thisss one. They would accept, however; isss not a secret what thisss one isss."

He tries to look at Zeke. Tries. But dead eyes settle past the Shaman. "Thisss one isssn't... exactly alive. But not exactly dead. Doesss... doesss thisss one nervousssness make sense?"

The blue-scale blinks, certainly noticing Skielstregar's nervousness, but not understanding the cause. The fact that the other is - or was - a sunguard who can no longer heal is news to him, and the idea that the other male is... somehow dead makes even less sense. "Thisss one sssensssesss a ssstory here. One that thisss one hasss no knowledge of. What you sssay ssshould be imposssible, but thisss one doessss not doubt you. Thussss... Will you sssshare wordsss with thisss one? Explain how it isss that one can be dead, but not dead?" Zeke remains ever-calm, but he is clearly concerned for Skeilstregar's reaction to his offer.

Skielstregar watches Zeke for a moment before turning towards the center of the plaza, hands wrapping in his lap and tail curling around a leg. "... thisss one will ssshare. But... pleassse underssstand sssuch thingsss are in the passst. And will be in the passst."

A beat. A breath. "Thisss one wass a Sunblade. Fledgling, Warrior caste for their tribe. Thisss one's memoriesss are hazy of the time. They remember His light. The warmth."

The silverscale's eyes open in a half lid, distant. "... sssoftskinss came. Wretched Charn. Take thisss one. Turn thisss one into-"

Caught up in his story, he almost forgets he's speaking with kin. But his words stop hard. "-a monster," he resumes, choosing his words carefully. "They died. Then woke up not dead. They do not remember much from... that time. Perhapsss for the bessst."

A hand rises, and fingers curl into a fist. There's a tinge of black, ink-like ichor that seeps and drips from his hand. It smells foul. It smells like- "Necromancy, they think. Thisss one is alive because necromancy. They feel it constantly. Gnawing at the back of their head. Their mind."

Finally, he gains enough nerve to look at the bluescale. "Isss thiss one saved from corruption from the Deathsssinger? Isss thisss one'sss Light corrupted to be thisss way? Isss the Father speaking to thisss one in a different, dissstorted lensss? Or isss thiss one jussst... wrangling the reinsss of a monsssster sstill?"

The scent makes Zeke's snout curl, an unpleasant aroma and he sits very still. His scent gone. His eyes nictating with... something. It feels suddenly very cold to him. He is distant though he doesn't mean to be. "The Charneth?" He manages the question quietly, gently. His words are careful things. Like dancing through a field of swords. "Were you... Forgotten?"

The fearful word. The word that means lost. The word that is synonymous among the People with... monster. It means so much MORE to Zeke.

Skiel tries to find joy in confiding with Zeke, and he gets in return is... cold. The anxious feeling builds more, wafting off the ex-Sunblade. The makari turns slightly to not face Zeke, shoulders slumped and head dipped. This is what he was afraid of. But this was reality.

But if one was going to dance through a field of swords- "I wasss," he intones.

- one would have to accept getting impaled. "And ssstill am, sssomewhat," he croaks out. Letting the fact hang in the air.

As hard as this is for Zeke, for reasons that Skeilstregar does not know, can not know, he knows instinctively and fully how much more difficult this must be for the other male. He thrums low in his throat, a noise for comforting hatchlings yes, though neither of them are hatchlings anymore. "May... May thisss one touch you?" He asks gently, his flesh-and-blood claw lifting somewhat toward Skielstregar, but not - not ever - touching without permission.

Skielstregar takes a glance over his shoulder from the sound of comfort, him dry swallowing and nodding. He offers an arm. The insides of his forearm are scarred, like something large bit them again and again. But they're old, with no new fresh ones present.

The silverscale's flesh is cold. Understandable, given his scale hue, but its stiff. It's... wrong. And feeling for a pulse, one is there. But its slow. So, so slow.

Zeke reaches out and lays his claw on Skielstregar's arm. He offers comfort in this way, the thrumming, the touch of another of the People to give the other male solace. "Thisss one... wasss tesssted onsce. Thisss one did not become Forgotten, but thisss one _undersstandsss_." There's a deep ache in Zeke's green eyes, one that bespeaks a horror too fresh. A wound yet unhealed. "Thisss one would aid you. Asssk quesstionsss of the sservantss of the Dragonfather on your behalf. What-ever thisss one can do."

Skielstregar was half expecting some sort of clinical inspection, or perhaps a blessing that would turn out to harm. But comfort offered was a surprise. He looks to Zeke, dead eyes wide. "... you underssstand," he states quietly, more or less confirming the fact for himself.

A slow breath rolls through him, a plume of frozen air wafting off to the sky. "... thisss one would be grateful for your aid, Ssshaman Zeke. Thisss one... doesssn't think they can harbor hisss Light anymore, but... they ssstill wissh to ssserve in anyway they can."

Zeke nods. "Thisss one mussst return to the temple now, but thisss one will prepare prayersss for anssswersss, and when you are ready thisss one will asssk. Perhapssss you can not, but atonement for what one hasss done can go far, and the Dragonfather doess not ever truly turn hisss eyesss from usss. Thisss one can sssay with scertainty you are not dead Ssskeilstregar." The blue-scale rises to is feet slowly. "Thisss one hass felt your heart beat, thisss one hass heard you laugh, and ssshared your pain. You live, and while you live there isss hope."

Skielstregar's cautiously resumes swooping from side to side, making a dip in the snow behind him. "... thisss one would... would like that greatly, Ssshaman Zeke," he bows his head. "No, thisss one doesss not think the Father hasss turned away from thisss one. Perhapsss it is jusst... different now, iss all."

He sits up straighter. "... yesss. There isss hope! While they do not expect thisss one to be asss they once were, they perhapsss just wisssh for anssswersss. Who knowsss? Maybe He'sss ssstill with thisss one, and thisss one jusst doesssn't know it!"

He grins. A gnarly, fanged thing. "Peassse on your nessst Ssshaman, thank you for talking to thisss one!"

-End