In which they talk the same language

It's another beautiful day out, warm and fair with only a few clouds to dot the sky with their fluffy whiteness. In spite of this weather there is a black-cloaked individual making their way through the market district. This individual is notable for a few reasons, all of which join together to make it impossible for him to do anything but stand out. Firstly there is the dark robes and cloak which amid the spring-clad others in the market district gives him his first strike. Secondly is his height, even hunched slightly one can not hide a nearly seven foot tall frame. Not unless one was hiding amid a crowd of orcs.

Zeke moves through the people carefully and with a watchful eye. Thankfully the time of day means that the market is not at its busiest hour - or else he would not be here at all - but there's still enough people that he has need of being careful. Then he stops at a spice seller and peers down at the owner of the establishment. "Thisss one isss looking for sssalt. Do you have sssalt cubes?"

Hetzakoatl stands out, also, for her red robes and the fact that she is taller still than Zeke. Her own interests in spices is likely different from Zeke's, currently, but she is drawn closer to the blue-scaled Sith in time to hear his request. "Peace on your nesst.", she intones quietly. "Ssa if he does not have salt cubes, the merchant over there, with the green banners, does." She gestures with a clawed finger to the merchant in question.

A little unsettled by the appearance of the other sith-makar Zeke takes a small step away and flicks his tail slightly. This is the only symptom he shows however, offering her a polite nod that makes it seem like he's only making space for her at the counter. "Peasssce on your nessst." His green eyes flicker across to the merchant that she directs him toward and nods. "Thisss one offerss thanksss for your advisce."

"Wait! I sell salt!" The merchant looks a little distressed, pulling out a bag of salt cubes and showing them to Zeke whom bobs his head at the poor merchant. The merchant glances at Hetzakoatl out of the corner of his eye, clearly perturbed at the thought that she might have lost him a customer.

The white-scale Sith peers at the merchant a moment, her nictitating eyelids closing for a few long moments. "Well.", she says slowly, glancing to Zeke. "As long as he offerss ssaid ssalt for the ssame price." She coughs wetly for a few moments, and slowly backs away. "I ssuppose I should let you sshop. Ssorry to have disturbed you."

The merchant in question gives Hetzakoatl an afronted look before setting the salt cubes down for Zeke's perusal. "Thisss one will take the bag. Yesss, the whole bag." This last part is said to the surprised look on the merchant's face at the idea of Zeke buying a bag of salt cubes. The sith-makar exchanges coin for the bag and turns toward Hetzakoatl as she's leaving. "Thisss one offerss thankss again." He nods to her, more a bow than a nod and not a terribly common gesture for a sith though it has the air of one that's been well practiced. He moves to continue on his way and realizes abruptly that they are both headed in the same direction. "Thisss one... thisss one is headed back to the Arcanist's Guild."

Hetzakoatl offers the merchant a nod of the head, before looking to Zeke as they walk along. "To use the salt in ssome experiemnt?", she wonders of the (slightly) shorter Sith. "I was considering returning to Mictlan. But I am curiouss... May I know what it is you will do with the ssalt?"

"Mikilosss ussess ssalt in hisss treatment." Zeke glances around, somewhat unwilling to say too much in such a public space. If the masses knew of a partial cure... Mikilos would likely have hundreds massed outside his doorway. "Chay hasss been eatting it raw to sssee if it doesss good on itss own."

She glances at Zeke, her eyes very slightly wider. "Jusst sso, good newss this is. Only partial?" Hetzakoatl taps a claw against her lip. "I ssuppose this is progresss. I had heard that Chay had managed to contract the plague, this is true?"

Worry tightens around Zeke's eyes as he nods. Chay has the plague. He tries not to think about it, but it is constantly on his mind darkening his brow with concern. "Lesss a cure, more a.... thing which ssubduesss it." He does not know the tradespeak word for what he means so he does his best with the ones he has. His is a voice better suited to the draconic language than to the more common one of the land. "Thisss one hasss been focusssing of late on thisss vampire however. Identifying him may mean identifying the sssource."

"Do you require assissstance?", she wonders, ducking her head low as she switches to draconic. "Where is Chay, currently? In one of the hosspitals? Can you take me to him?" <draconic>

The transition into draconic is seamless to Zeke, and when he's speaking it, it's clear how much more naturally it comes to him than that other. There's no trace of an accent here, as if his years of speaking tradespeach has not affected it at all. "Chay is in the dungeons of Arcanist's Guild." He glances toward the other sith-makar, hesitancy in his steps. "If you could look into this vampire more, that would be helpful. Very helpful." <draconic>

"Take me to him, then? Let me learn what there is to know and then I can be helpful.", the white-scale says gently. "And how are you doing, in all of this, Zeke?" Her pace quickens slightly, towards the Arcanist's Guild. <draconic>

Her gate quickens and she begins to outpace the blue-scaled sith who makes no such effort even when she begins to pull ahead of him. He continues at his own slow dogged pace winding through the people. "This one is fine." He seems to have slipped into draconic now and remains stuck there. Also, his words are clearly a lie. <draconic>

Hetzakoatl looks over her shoulder, and comes to a stop, waiting for the blue-scale to catch up. "Better that you ssay nothing at all than lie, Zeke.", she says softly in Draconic. "Everything ssays to me that you are not fine. Your possture, the quiver in your voice, the sslow pace you set. Even wanting me to leave."<draconic>

Made aware of his slowness Zeke picks up the pace a little, but it seems to make him less comfortable. A fact which is made clear in spite of the fact that he is standing straighter. Her criticism it seems are taken immediately to heart, but he's tense now from the tip of his muzzle to the end of his tail which quivers slightly. "This one is sorry." He offers the apology quietly but loudly enough to be heard over the pulse of people around them. <draconic>

"Go at your pace from before and I sshall make do.", she says gently. "And tell me of your burdenss. Let me lighten them a little? It is ssomething I sshould do for my fellow kin." She taps a finger against her chin. <draconic>

Again, obediently Zeke slows his pace, going exactly the same speed that he had been going before she had instructed him otherwise. Slowing down however does not seem to put him at ease. His green eyes watch her intently, but never rest on her own gaze. Instead he studies her gate, her claws. Watches her body moving as if he might record them down later. "We are not kin." It's gentle but firm. "This one... does not make words lightly, and does not know you very well." <draconic>

The white-scale Sith follows alongside Zeke, seemingly unaware of his eyes on her. "I mean kin in the general sense. We are both Sith-Makar, in a place somewhat alien compared to where we are from." Hetzakoatl looks to him then. "You, perhaps, have more experience in this world than I, but we are closer together than compared to the ssoftskin racess." She nods slowly to him, understanding in her eyes. "I would hold what words you would share close to my heart. I will not betray you." <draconic>

Zeke is clearly uncomfortable, walking beside her but far enough that were she to reach out he could easily evade her reach. There is something between them more than air however. All from his side of course. A distance that remains as yet unbreached. "This one does not understand why you wish to share words. You are aware of my defects, what could make you want to do this?" <draconic>

"I do not see them as defectss.", Hetzakoatl says softly. "I could sshow you the sscars I bear, where thingss were sstolen from me... which is why I empathize with you. Why I cough. Why I cannot bear young. Why I hide my tail." She eyes him closely, looking at where his hidden limbs might be. "I imagine that you feel sshame. I know sshame. It is like a sshackle, issn't it?" <draconic>

The blue-scaled sith /feels/ that look and more tightly grasps his cloak about himself. Checks without looking down to make sure that he is not uncovered somehow. His tail is ridged and tucked low around his body. It hugs him as though it might well disappear as well. "These things were taken from you. Stolen as you say. It is not your fault." He does not answer her question about shame. No, he wears it too clearly like a bell around his neck. Always there and chiming with every step." <draconic>

She is silent for a number of steps. "It soundss to me that you are implying that you willingly traded your limbss away. Am I correct in thinking so? I would be curiouss to know how you came to have your limbs replaced by constructss, either way. But I will not pussh you for the explaining." Hetzakoatl nods to him, slowly. "Jusst sso. Sstolen from me. Not my fault. Yet none line up to choose me for anything women are chosen for. The looks of pity shown to me. The feeling that I sshould have had the decency to die insstead of survive." <draconic>

Zeke can say nothing, echoing the silence that she made at his words with one of his own. "This one is sorry that you feel this way. You survived, and that is a good thing. this one can not speak for others, but it is so whether they think it or not. Survival is the way of the People." He nods as though to himself, but it is to her. <draconic>

Hetzakoatl eyes him curiously, and a gurgling sound can be heard in her throat. A light mist puffs out from one corner of her mouth, and she again coughs wetly. "Indeed. We have both survived and this is, indeed, a good thing. Despite what others may or may not think." She lets out a low breath, and another cough, before continuing. "You are free of the plague, yes?" <draconic>

Her words seem to somewhat go over him rather than through him. He does not nod as he perhaps should. He simply carries on walking slowly with his body hunched over and his tail wrapped around himself. "Yes. This one is free of the plague still." Almost it sounds regretful. <draconic>

The white-scale lets out a snort, and thumps the ground with her staff. "Is Chay in there alone? With you running errands for him while he... studies? Presumably without the ill effects of the plague? Hmm. The dungeons?" <draconic>

"Acedia is with him. A goblin bard whom has the plague as well." He steps slightly further away from Hetzakoatl. "This one is running errands yes. So that they feel better." Zeke nods to her. <draconic>

The white-scale eyes him as he steps further away. "I suppose, then, that I shall let you carry out what tasks you must attend to. So that you can do so without fear. Perhaps I may be of service later." Hetzakoatl turns then, and begins walking a different path. <draconic>

Zeke blinks as Hetzakoatl steps away to go another direction and sort of peers after her in confusion. "This one goes to the Arcanist's Guild. Were you not coming with this one to see Chay?" <draconic>

She comes to a stop, and turns in place. "While you may not trust me to share words with, you could try trusting me not to attack or strike you. I am aware, now, of your condition. I did not know, before. I am not going to harm you. Nor touch you, unbidden. You need not jump when I thump with my staff. I am unable to do so with my tail." <draconic>

Now at last Zeke looks away from her, or lets his eyes slide away from her though he remains able to watch her from the corner of his eyes. He is glad that they are in a more quiet place now. Fewer people to hear such things. "This one... can not help such reactions." He spreads his one claw out, somehow managing to convey the act of spreading them both with only one visible. "They come unbidden." <draconic>

"Ah.", she says, managing to look embarrassed. "I shall do what I can to minimize my unbidden noises, then." She slowly moves back to his side, at least, no closer than she was before. Another puff of mist escapes her lips, followed by her coughing at length. "Let us continue on, then." <draconic>

Zeke accepts this with a bare nod, carrying forward in what has suddenly become a comfortable silence. There is still a sort of hunch to his shoulders, his tail is still wrapped about his body, but these seem minor reactions now, and not ones necessarily due to her presence at his side. In this manner, companionably, they make their way at Zeke's slow and doged pace to the Arcanist's Guild.

-End