Peace on your Nests
The lizardfolk colony of Mictlan lies far to the north of the softskin city, deep in the wilds and woods. Established by treaty by the Silver Empress with the humans, it is a temperate refuge from the lizard's harsh jungle home and warded by magic to hide it from casual sight and moderate the internal weather to the reptile's likings. Hot and humid, one striking feature dominates the encampment. The bones of Sufri'gan.
They live within his remains. A massive dragon, Sufri'gan spent his life to protect his smaller, weaker kin against an encroaching army. Respect is paid, in appellation and supplication, to his great white bones which arch upwards to the sky like a hollow mountain. His long spine curves through the settlement, coiled protectively around it like a snake protecting her eggs.
It is most appropriate that the nesting grounds of the lizardfolk, the sith'makar, lie in the shadow of his great pelvis. A fortress within a refuge, the grounds are surrounded by a palisade of living trees within which lies the mastaba of the nest mothers. A hollow pyramid with a flat top, it is the 'House of Memory' where bloodlines and life goes on and comes into being. Between the sacred and the sky lie the brilliant bones that gave everything to ensure a future. He is remembered. He is revered.
He fades into the background with the distraction of more immediate concerns. The gravid females grow large, achieving an unwieldy size where even the most graceful is burdened and off-balance. As their bellies swell, their minds change, synapses shorting and re-pathing to focus them on their impending task. Make the next peoples. It will be physically and mentally exhausting, and the wheat must separate from the chaff. The 'egg-brain' phenomenon is well known, if not fully understood.
The impending nest-mothers will become sharper, more aggressive, more attentive to threats and more protective of their own. They will become more like themselves, with minor branches of interest pruned and reactions heightened. They will respond faster than maiden females, their rationality, their emotional quotient, their instincts all heightening. They observe, they orient, they decide, they act much swifter than before. Dithering on decisions is a luxury that will be abandoned. Their patience, clearly, decreases.
"Where is it? It's supposed to be here. Now! This one ordered early, paid the courier." Cozamalotl, or 'Zama', whines. The stringy, brass scale Lore-Keeper shouts at the clouds, supporting herself on the mastaba doorway.
"You have enough books!" Xochicotzin, 'Xochi', snaps back, sitting ungainly on her nest, a wood and stone affair that forms a shallow bowl she easily fills. The muscular red scale started with little patience and now has none, for anything. "Your whole book is nests!"
"Peace. Nest Mothers. An Egg-Watcher will check, Zama. Now, back to your nest." Nahuatl, the nest-mother to the nest-mothers, takes the brass Lore-Keeper back. To a nest that is an inverted hut, made of shelves facing out as the walls and roof, each packed with tomes. It's a mini-library all within reach of the waddling Zama; once she's tucked inside amongst the bookstacks. This takes some coaxing.
"This one will." Xochi surges off her nest, flowing towards the door like an inevitable boulder rolling down hill.
"Xochi, you are not Egg-Watcher now, you are Nest-mother to be. Tayanna, go. Yaotl, guide Xochi back to her nest. Cryo, stay put." Nahuatl says, her voice ever patient. Controlled. She's seen it all, many years, many generations. The rumour is she's older than the Empress, and the verdigris that grows inward from the edges of her scales adds substance to this. She carries the weight of years better than her charges carry the weight of their eggs.
"This one wasn't going anywere." Cryosanthia, 'Cryo', says. A white-scaled Speaker who has a platform nest, one of twigs and vines on a small wooden deck. Graceful and gleaming, she's seated with a carnation-scale youngling who leans against her side and fiddles with a screwdriver and some device.
"You left to do diplomatic games a week before you are due. This one doubts you fully comprehend. Your eggs need you here more than the world does." Nahuatl says, a firm admonishment with a firmer stare. The two match eyes.
"They are still inside this one," Cryo points out the obvious.
"Yes. They need you here. Expecting. Not galavanting. Practice the stance." The elder orders. The prompts the white-scale to nudge her youngling, who gathers her things and climbs a rope that hangs in empty space above Cryo's nest. Reaching the top, Little Fang, 'Lily', vanishes as she enters an invisible, otherworldly space. A perch where she can look down on her Ssassa, and watch her holding a low crouch as long as possible. Or not, as the case may be, with the young kobold's interest turning to her other mechanical projects.
"S'okay girl, betchya I can hold it longer'n you." Braelnoir, a silver-haired human mercenary, and an oddity among the lizard women grins at Cryo, dropping into a horse-riding stance with a taunting grin. "You're on," the white scale accepts the challenge. Xochi, not to be out-done by a mere Speaker and her softskin scale-sister rises into a low crouch. "This one shows you both!"
All three now compete in a meaningless exercise for kudos.
'Fffft'. There's a snort from Itzpapalotl, 'Papalotl', a bronze scale Crafter, whose short and wide physique is reminiscent of dwarven proportions and seems perfectly suited for a pot-belly of impending offspring. She's in her own squat, a constructive one that makes her kilt ride low in the back and exposes more cracks around her tail than it should. She's hammering, a rhythmic sticatto, making adjustments to her nest. What started as a wooden platform expanded with levers and more levers, to adjust height, tilt, slide compartments and bins in and out. It rises to a standing position, can lie flat the ground and seems more workbench than bed. "This one has eliminated the need."
Papalotl has constructed a three beam seat that supports her to mid thigh on both legs, with another to drape her tail over, leaving an unobstructed space directly beneath her. She perches smugly on it, gazing at the other three women.
"You will lose balance during the throes. Your weight is needed to brace and spread you." Nahualt says, gently critizing.
"Right! Straps. This one will add straps." Papalotl says, undeterred and eagerly pulling out leatherworking supplies.
The elderly copper scale sighs and shakes her head. She will learn.
"No book." Tayanna returns in a bounding run. A green scaled and muscular Egg-Watcher, she moves with an ease and speed the expectant mothers have long left behind. There's a howl of anguish from the bookshelf in response to her news. Secretly, Tayanna passes a wrapped package to her partner Yaotl with an eye-ridge waggle. There are few opportunities to safely tease the nest-mothers, the ones that can be taken are. The green scale looks past the black scale to glance at Cryo, Braelnoir and Xochi, "Endurance test?"
"Yes." Yaotl steps past, heading for the stacks as Tayanna grins widely then drops herself in front of Xochi to go nose to nose with her, green scale to red. It's a silent and explicit challenge as she tucks in her arms and mimics the breathing exercises the nesting mothers have also. This prompts a low growl from her em-burdened friend, to which she responds, "Her Egg-watcher competes, now yours does too."
Brae' slips a sly grin at Yaotl. About time they noticed that.
Accurate, but not appeasing.
Most Egg-Watchers don't have a direct relationship with the nest-mothers-to-be. They are the all female, Warrior-Caste who have dedicated themselves to guarding the nests, hatchlings, nestlings and younglings of the Sith'Makar. In all cases they are former Nest-Mothers who suffered some tragedy, a loss of eggs and offspring, that nearly broke them. The Egg-Watcher training reforges them as protectors who understand how deep the despair can go, and who will put their lives on the line to save other women from a similar fate. The training doesn't make them nice; it does make them effective.
Almost all cases. Cryosanthia was trained as one despite never being a Nest-mother, because of her extreme distress from the tortures of the Queen of Endless Winter. The white-scale dragged her scale-sister down with her, Braelnoir's similar emotional composition from her upbringing and loss exacerbated by their shared experiences. And a similar soul was recognized in Aryia, the mute mul'niessa and former slave of Charn. Softskin Egg-Watchers are unprecedented, but the Speaker's prestige and their experience was enough to sway the scales.
Typically, the Egg Watchers mind the entire nesting grounds and don't dote on individual Nest-Mothers. There are many, gathering for each nesting season and spending a significant amount of time being present so the Nest-Mothers-to-be can become familiar and comfortable with their scents. A necessary practice for a species that relies on a lot of non-verbal cues and body language. In their anxious states, the unexpected can be alarming. The Nest-mothers-to-be need time to adjust to their protectors, who are largely strangers.
They needed a lot of time for Aryia. The mul'niessa, the shadow elves, are not liked by the lizardfolk. They commonly take the lizards as slaves, treat them as animals. A shadow-elf ex-slave is almost incomprehensible as a concept and a new experience they don't need on their plate. It was an uncomfortable one for Aryia as well, as the sith'makar weren't respectful of her personal space and their apparent need to constantly sniff her was irritating. Very irritating.
"This one will forgive you for that, as I don't think you meant it." Cryosanthia said, rubbing at her snout as blood trickles from her nostrils. She had ignored Aryia's 'don't sniff me' sign, to embrace the mul'niessa and inhale her scent. Her voice is even, and firm, very firm. Her fighting stance thrown off by her gravid posture, but she's still ready to throw down. "This one thought we were stronger friends. You do not realize that I feel relief when I smell you, my muscles relaxing. I feel safe. Felt. This one apologizes but I need you over there, for now."
She points somewhere distant.
Egg-watchers Tayanna and Yaotl find Aryia soon after and explain in more direct terms that if the shadow-elf can't avoid punching the Nest-Mothers she needs to go. Go push around the hovering males if she must, but it is comfort, dump out, and Egg-Watchers are the ring surrounding the Clutch-Mothers, who surround the Nest-Mothers. In softskin terms, they are the 'Strict Aunts' to the Clutch-Mothers' 'Fun Aunts' and it's time to auntie up. She has to just take it. Find someone or tree and work it off, they'll fight her if she wants.
With the clear indication it would not be a fair fight and they'll give her enough of a beatdown to make their point. The threats are outside the palisade, not inside, and the Nest-Mothers get worse when they're exhausted by their hatchlings. Focus. Recognize when a time out is necessary, come back when the moment has passed. "If you never come back, that's fine," Yaotl the black-scale advises, "better than losing control and accidentally killing a hatchling."
It would destroy a sith'makar female. A shadow elf softskin might be made of sterner stuff.
Get it under control, is the lesson. One Nest-Mother-to-be that doesn't require much is Metztli, 'Just Metztli is fine', a young gold scale crafter that had the unique experience of being a statue much like the ones she makes. Caught by cultists, petrified, taken to Charn and rescued by Aryia and her friends, Metztli would have nested in the spring-time if it weren't for that experience. She's a sweet, undemanding, woman who absolutely adores Aryia and seems to lack any of the random demands of her sisters. She regally presides over her nest, which is neat and traditional, and places decorum above all else. While the Crafter-caste is usually associated with the practical, solid creations of the sith'makar, Metztli concentrates on the elegant and beautiful. Her work is to add joy in every day items and she delights in the mul'niessa's company and quiet.
The other side of the comfort coin, the 'fun aunties' - the clutch-mothers, aren't as present before the lay day and all tend to have a tie to a specific nest-mother, even if raising the younglings is a shared duty. They assist in a direct fashion, lying on the nest when the nest-mother needs a sanity break, inspecting the hatchlings, helping as they grow to nestling and then venture out as fragile softscales.
Cryosanthia has several, the oddest being the lucht Knight of Spiders, Faranmidahn. A fluffy little woman with big hair and gemstones as extra eyes on her forehead, the albino halfing is Cryo's other softskin scale-sister kin and one she embraces a lot. Faranmidahn also suffered the machinations of the Queen of Endless Winter, and they recovered together with the unexpected catalyst of Little Fang. The whitescale looked to her small-sized friend for insights into a world she doesn't occupy, one where most of the people tower and being 'right-sized' means standing as tall as a human's waist. Sir Faranmidah, along with her mother, Professor Serrendine, have served as a combination of Egg-Watch and Clutch-Mother for the kobold, and the two scaled girls, Cryo and Lily, have become their surrogate big family that the halflings are known for.
Faranmidahn happily endures the friendly closeness of her scale-sister and brings a levity to the mastaba. Her use of the reduce person spell, running around as a tiny version of herself, confounds the predator and protective instincts of the lizard folk and makes her an intriguing object to watch and a welcome visitor to every nest.
"This one inquires, is it embarrassing to be in a nest? Would you consider doing so when this one lays on it?" Zama asks, her voice drifting out of her book-fort. They are out of sight, not out of hearing. In the large area of shared nests, privacy is pretended more than afforded.
"Yeah, Cryo already asked, to check her temperature. It's ok." Faranmidahn answers, that personal space abandoned long ago. She's seen a lot of the sith'makar, Cryo in particular, but also had her arm broken when another stepped on her. She's used to being underfoot and unnoticed. Underbelly is likely the same thing.
The Professor Serrendine is also present and assisting, in a much more aloof and reserved manner, gravitating towards those who wish a discussion. Papalotl asks for her assistance and produces some right-sized furniture for the luchts, their collaboration creating some interesting results.
An unexpected presence is Hetzakoatl, a white scaled warrior that Cryo made the acquaintance of in Alexandria's theatre district. Reserved and distant, it took some pleading to get her here. The woman is heavily scarred and does not wish share, even in the forced intimacy of the nesting grounds. She is well known in Mictlan, a resident of many years. Cryo asked Hetzakoatl to be her clutch-mother for the simple reason of their shared scale colour. Sith'makar eggs do not need to be incubated by matching scale colours, but the superstition remains. As Cryosanthia is naturally cooler than most, she can't shake the belief that someone of a similar heritage would have an advantage. As a Speaker-Caste with some standing and fame, her persistence and appeal to duty won reluctant agreement.
Vaera, the tall, dark red hunter with the prosthetic leg was also asked. Cryo wasn't sure, given the other woman's history whether she would show. The white scale's need, and the opportunity to educate Lily in firearms use drew her, and unexpectedly, Xochi did also. The surly red-scale seemed in need of a friend and if scale colour and the temperature of her eggs weren't a concern, their matching temperaments were magnetic. They clicked. Vaera's carvings, on her leg and her gift to Lily, also were of interest to Papalotl and Metztli whose common crafts intersected in the artistic woodwork.
"You can sit on this one's eggs anytime!" Xochi offers, making it sound weirder than it should. This is politely ignored by all.
Shaman Un'eth is a welcome presence, even if she appears as a dire wolf most of the time. Specifically invited by Grand Nest-Mother Nahuatl, she will act as assistant mid-wife, provide mundane medical and magical assistance, and odd, inscrutable advice. The ebon-scaled sith'makar spreads her time among all the nest-mothers-to-be, there as tribal duty and for her connection to Cryo and her friends.
Seyardu, Hearthguard and follower of the Nest Mother to All the Stars, is all but demanded to be there. A healer, an adventurer, friend of several present, the silverscale's self assurance and directness is appreciated and desired. This is better received by the metallics than the chromatics, but all welcome her presence. Althea's blessings and miracles are anticipated and always needed. It helps that she's good friends with Aryia and Braelnoir; although Nahuatl gently requests them all to keep the adventuring discussions to a minimum. In order that some, the whitescale hint-hint, doesn't come up even more reasons to leave the grounds.
The remaining Clutch-Mothers are connected to the other nest-mothers-to-be, and while pleasantly friendly they don't have much in common and keep to the friends. Some are Nest-mothers who laid in the previous season, and have nestlings large enough they can take longer excursions. This gives them a chance to re-live their more tranquil, expecting days, and reassure the Nest Mothers to be that the effort won't be that bad, but it will be as rough as they can imagine.
Encouraging words!
Outside, literally outside the palisade, are the males who have an interest. Foremost is Tenoc who mounts almost daily expeditions into Am'shere and Alexandria, to return with consoling mangos, chocolate, apple fritters and warm murmurings that anything *else* that can be thought of will be provided. All are graciously accepted by the egg-watchers, and some of the weight gain of the Nest-Mothers can be attributed to his efforts and not their eggs. Except in Cryo's case, where he's responsible for both.
He brings foodstuffs and gifts and all the things vital and critical and potentially needed. Classic frantic-nervous-manic father syndrome. Cryo frequently comes out to talk with him, until Nahuatl calls her back, whereupon Lily replaces her and shows the male her latest carvings and the things she's created.
The little kobold is both proud of her big sister status, and needy for attention. The sith'makar traditions are quite different from kobold ones. She takes to spending a lot of time in Cryo's nest or the space above it, to stay close to her Ssassa and a place that feels like the cave she grew up in.
She also suggests eating a lot of bugs, which Tenoc is only too happy to provide.
Male sith aren't generally allowed inside the palisade and the mastaba unless all the females are used to them. They also have to be trained not to step on eggs and hatchlings. Eggs are easier, they don't do a lot of suddenly running underfoot. Panicked hatchlings and energetic nestling are another story.
Tenoc will definitely practice that. Enough that he is allowed in, to embrace Cryo with warm, firm hugs. And, when she gets ripe, give mangos. "This one knows, but all in good time dear heart. When you feel it is time and ready, then-- squyee!" Tenoc chortles! Adores. Cryosanthia chrrrrrrs happily!
Shaman Geir is a short, copper-scaled male that is always welcome, even as a servant of the Death Singing Dragon. There will be eggs that don't make it, hatchlings that find the world to be too much. This is the accepted wisdom, even if one previous hatching in Mictlan was successful beyond all hopes it would be foolish to expect a repeat. The Lady Greyscales comes for all, and some much too soon, and her follower will be there to do his best to tell her, give them a little more time.
Rocky and Boaz, Cryo's clutch-mates, bolster her confidence more than anything. Of the same village, the same egg laying as the whitescale, they are able to untwist her out of the rabbit holes and eddy currents she sticks herself in. Family, the oldest family, they know her origins the best and while their paths have diverged through life they are there for her. Rocky, Pebble Stone, is a solid granite scaled warrior that outweighs all. Silent, stoic, sometimes all Cryo needs is a rock to lean against and he's there to be that.
He's waited by the river, death holds no fear for him and this confidence helps his skittish little sister in her moments of doubt.
Boaz, beautiful Boaz, the golden scale sith male with the silver arm and the bronze leg, has suffered as intensely if not as long as the whitescale. Almost lost in the insanity of the forgotten, his senses returned at the cost of an arm and a leg. The mindless rage remains, burning within as a controlled fire that he can tap into at will. His shimmering metal limbs reflect and enhance the gleam of his gold scales, calling to mind the mother of all chromatics.
He's there for his beautiful sister, as proud as a brother can be.
Hunter Sjach, 'Silence', a lithe emerald and charcoal male, has not had much interaction with Cryosanthia beyond their initial meetings. He finds Mictlan too crowded, even with the relatively light sith'makar population. They have shared secrets, his of the tribes that destroyed his, and she, her many troubles. He provides food, and once, a distant well-wish.
One who has been asked to stay distant and wishes not to be, is a tarnished bronze scale with fangs and empty eyes. Skielstregar, a towering sith'makar strikes fear into even the lizard folk. He carries the aura of death, the moldering scales and the unsettling presence of the Forgotten, the insane cannibal lizard folk who empower themselves by eating the like-flesh and fall to corruption as it twists their brains. Skielstregar teeters on the edge, driven there by the shadow elf slavers, holding onto his sanity with bloody claws and fury.
He wants to help the Nest Mothers to be, bringing firewood, other needed supplies, which are accepted with great reluctance by the Egg-Watchers.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry." Cryosanthia has come out to meet him, escorted by Braelnoir. The whitescale heavily fans her nose, casting magic to clear the rotting male's scent. "This one knows you are safe, that your intentions are good. It's your scent, the sight of you, the way you move, it pulls terror in me, makes me want to fight because I can't flee. It's too much, for all of us, Skielstregar. When this one is not..." she glides her hand around her bulged belly, "... as round as an airship gasbag, this one will trade time and words with you. This one is sorry, I'm sorry."
She retreats, leaving him dejected. Will any ever fully accept him? His sister, Seyardu has, and others profess to, but when their instincts come calling they push him away. The promise of inclusive family dangles just out of reach, offered, then yanked back. His head drops, he slinks away. There is more wood to chop, whether they need it or not.
Galidor, the glimmering goldenscale, gallant male of many titles passes by at least once to wish well in many, many words. He is entertaining, each title a story that the increasingly stir-crazy females demand as a distraction. Not a bard by trade, he finds himself filling the role supplemented with Cryo's impromptu assistance. Neither a bard is she, but her self indulgent streak is wide and if she stands beside a gold-scale, she can pretend the reflected colour is her own.
A bonified bard, Jinks, makes an appearance but employs few barding skills. Instead, he is teamed up with Faranmidahn, her mother, and Lily to be shrunken in size and hastened so they can assist the Egg-Watchers with training the new ones, and interested males, in how not to step on the nestlings. Largely, this involves trying to be stepped on.
Success! He's stepped on, as is Faranmidahn and Lily. Professor Serrendine isn't, as she's less vigorous in the scurrying and goes for more subtle psyche-outs where she endeavors to get the 'adults' to trip themselves.
There are no broken bones. At least no large ones. Healers are on hand.
Sabina was distant and despondent when she visited. The former proprietress of the TarRaCe seemed lost without her coyote half-mask. Her expressions wandered, as if she didn't know what to do with them, or had fallen out of habit in controlling them. In many was she was more naked than if she had removed her clothes. The priestess of the laughing god wasn't laughing anymore, and there was nothing to pin it on.
Excepting of course the banishment of her otherworldly lover. Could that be it? Estranged through no fault of their own, the two were forced apart and while both are getting on with their lives, is there much living when you are living apart and don't wish to be? Cryo had promised to help her establish a new spa, build a new building, but there was only so much time and the weight on the whitescale was building and soon she would be laying out the consequences of choices she made months ago.
Much like Sabina is. The two women embrace and part, promising promises that will be harder to keep as obligations pull them in different directions. Cryosanthia returns to her nest, and Sabina goes... wherever she goes now that she's homeless.
Morgan, a half elf with all the sylvan on the pixie side, flew into Mictlan seeking her sometimes girlfriend, Braelnoir. She's interested in Cryosanthia also, even if she doesn't approve of her whole 'reproducing' thing. "I brought you an amulet of protection."
She holds out a lapis lazui in a platinum setting, on chain that was as tall as she was.
"That's long for a necklace, isn't it?" Cryo asked, tilting her head to the left. Her neck is long and sinuous, but not nearly enough for the offered chain, "that will hang to my navel."
"Silly, it's for lower," Morgan said, encircling the lizard woman's hips and fastening the clasp over her tail ridge. The pendant does hang lower. The pixie-elf, half, examines the placement then pats Cryo's pregnant belly, "See? So this doesn't happen again."
"This one planned this," Mostly, she stammers, "this one isn't in season all the time, it happens less and less. This one had a duty to the people." Plus, I wanted it, "I wanted it."
"You'll thank me later," Morgan said, with the assurance of a witch laying a curse. "Bye. I need to find Brea and kiss her where she doesn't have an amulet."
She floated off into another part of the encampment, Cryo watching her go then pulling the chain around her hip for examination. It is a beautiful present, white and blue, matching her scales. Cryosanthia tucks it into her chest for safe keeping. And later.
An actual elf, Mikilos, came to wish his friend well and was a welcome sight. One of the few people the snow lizard trusted, he was her mentor and an inspiration. More than most, he understood her, the lingering damage from her trails, and let her broken moments pass without comment or fuss. Cryo fully expects to know him for centuries, and while a mage in his tall tower with a dragon in the basement is something of a cliche, he was such a mage and she could be such a dragon, sometimes.
"Thank you Mikilos," Cryo embraced the smaller man firmly and awkwardly. He had family, through a cousin, so familiar contact wasn't foreign, and he weathered being held by a reptile a foot taller and two hundred pounds heavier quite well. She let go before he became a too-comfortable hot-rock.
"You'll be ok. I'll help." Mikilos said, the offer itself bringing her peace.
Her remaining visitors were also mages, and human. Cesran, the Archmage, one of the defenders and a longtime foe of foes of magic flew in on his magic carpet. His brought assurances that everything was under control, even if it wasn't. He wasn't allowed into the nesting grounds, but his staff was.
His other staff, Ral-Sara, a dragon-headed staff carved from living wood and endowed with intelligence. She, in as much as an object can be she, was very popular among the nest-mothers-to-be. Dragons are endlessly fascinating for the lizard folk, claimed as distant progenitors, and once it was known she wasn't an imprisoned soul, everyone wanted to hold Ral-Sara. She was passed around, nest to nest, her creation story told and re-told. Zama didn't want to let her go, and finally the Egg-Watchers had to gently remove the staff from the book-fort so that Cesran could depart.
The night the dragon-staff visited would be told and re-told to their younglings for years after.
The other human mage was Merek. Nominally human, he has oft stated he has dragon in his bloodline, as well as that of the cursed necrotechnicians. Black scales on his wrist, an acrid, irritating scent to his breath and a black tech visor that is soul powered support these claims. He walks in, oblivious to the warriors trailing him and the Egg-Watchers arriving to stop him and nods when they are impossible ignore. Surrounded by scales, he takes out a cigarette, lights it, then seeks some place to exhale smoke that isn't in someone's face. "I'm looking for Cryo, I've got gifts for her and Lily."
"Oh, Merek, you shouldn't have." Cryo says, from the entrance to the palisade. He shouldn't have come, he shouldn't have brought gifts, he shouldn't have so many things. Involuntarily she rubs her left hand down her front, leaving it supporting herself. Her stance having a lot more of a forward lean to it.
"Cryo, you doing okay?"
The whitescale stares, "Merek, are you serious? I feel like a wineskin that's still fermenting. I have to pee every hour. In a few days I'm going to be responsible for six eggs and it'll be a lot harder since I can't walk around with them inside me. I've never done this before and I have no idea what to do, and even with help it's an adventure I don't feel prepared for. Are you even looking on this plane? Do you see me? This? Is that the kind of question you ask the females of your own species?"
"I apologize." The man nods, then awkwardly adjusts his beltcape. He stares at the reptile people surrounding him, and his friend. "You know how it is, with the..." he waves a hand, "... everything. I'm not good with people. I want you to be safe. I'm here for you, and Lily."
He holds out a box.
Cryosanthia exhales, closing her eyes and dipping her nose down. "Thanks Merek, for thinking of us. I'm sorry. It's a stressful time. I will... I do appreciate your efforts. You must go now, though, everyone is stinking." She takes the box. "After, this one will share words after."
After she lays, after her eggs hatch, after her nestlings have grown and left? Some after, it's not stated which one.
The man leaves.
Only a few days remain before their due date. The preparing, the digging, everything is made perfect and proper and right! Inside and out.
The laying ceremonies begin. First, the fires are built high. Simple but effective, the mudbrick mastaba is warded by its own quiet bonfire on top. The flat pyramid is illuminated by the flames and visible at a great distance. Torches are lit from within with a coal from the fire, then taken down the step-sides, and held in a symbolic, protective rings. Wards against evil spirits! Representing their watchful ancestors through smoke and calm fire. A ring augmented by the magic of the Shaman-Caste. A ring to remind the dragonbones of their duty.
Tenoc immediately goes into a tizzy bring carefully warmed stones from the great fire, rotating them as needed to keep things warm! And occasionally has bouts of reason where he and Lily allow whatever alone time Cryo needs. Hees! Tenoc is always careful. Much practice being still and stoic; he can give Staring Contest lessons. He is a safe male; he is allowed.
"Tenoc, it's not going to happen faster if you keep watching me." Cryo demurs, forehead pressed to his forehead, horns interlocking. She stands casually in his presence, for all his hurry and worried sense. Lily is by his knee, mimicking her Ssassa's hug, looking up at her and him. The whitescale grins, sharp teeth on display, "It might happen faster if you don't. This one must eat and sleep, and can't with you so busy. Be at peace Tenoc, the sun turns in the sky and so will I."
The great green male nuzzles back, "Sweet dreams when the time is right, m'Lady Whitescale!"
She giggles, and they part, eventually.
The time has come. The final ceremony before they lay their eggs starts. It begins with all the expectant nest-mothers climbing the mastaba. It has both symbolic and practical purposes. It symbolizes their strength, their endurance and that of their offspring. It is also a test, that they are well enough and the effort to get up the ziggurat step-sides will loosen and limber the pelvis.
"Cryo! You're not allowed to use your wings!", "Yeah, do you think you're better than us?", "How did you even get wings?"
"This one is older, does that make this one better?" The white scale asks.
"No, it means your eggs will get stuck." Zama giggles.
"What!"
"Cryo, they will not." Nahuatl reassures, "climb as the others do, without assistance."
Without the assistance of her wings. The assistance of the Clutch-Mothers is allowed, as the chosen brace their charges and help each to the top. There, the Nest-Mothers will light a torch. Some immediately hand it to their assistant, and commence the descent. Metztli, Zama, Papalotl do so, their partners carrying them and the light down.
Xochi, the warrior-redscale, is determined to make it down with her torch. If she's going to do it, then so is Cryo, and both slowly climb down as Braelnoir and Vaera give each other the look. Neither of the chromatics are willing to admit failure first, even though everyone knows that red scales are superior to white, so they struggle and are the last to arrive at their nests, long after the metallics have tucked themselves away.
The torch is passed, from the first circle to the second, the clutch mothers carrying the flickering light out of the mastaba to the edge of the palisade where they are met by the Egg-watchers. Torches are lit from these, and spread out in a circle, a living wall of guardian scales inside the wooden one.
The interested males are allowed to the entrance, taking flame from the third circle and surrounding the palisade from the outside, creating a fourth ring of light. Friends can take a torch as well, to make scattered points in the darkness. The circles of light grow stronger as they grow smaller, from the sky it seems much like a target.
All of Mictlan knows, it has begun. Outsiders must be kept away.
A final feast is prepared. The nest-mothers-to-be are to eat as much as they are able, to become over-full and food drunk and finally sleep. The nutritious coma taking them. Unconscious, they sleep for up to three days, and awaken to a pressure and in need of relief. Relieving themselves, washing clean with warm water, does not give respite to the sensation. The pressure builds, the laying commences.
It is a loud and long process, undignified, often painful. The lizard-folk are blessed in that their eggs are not as traumatizing or as large as human, or other softskin babies. They do have more of them, however, and it requires an endurance and a high tolerance for pain.
Xochi, warrior caste, weathered it the best and wanted to be off her nest as soon as she was finished. Before she was finished, insisting her task complete despite Nahuatl counter-insisting she had one more egg remaining. It took the combined persuasive abilities of the grand nest-mother, Tayanna, Yaotl, and Vaera, to get the reluctant red-scale back on her nest so she could finish.
Metztli, by contrast, was graceful perfection depositing her entire clutch with hardly any noise or fuss. Aryia, on hand to assist her, was distracted by the commotion at the other nests and by the time her attention returned, the golden-scaled lady had finished her task and was tidying up. Nahuatl did little more than pass by, and Metztli's assisting clutch-mother was barely troubled either. She made it look easy.
"The library is closed! I'm not coming out! You're not coming in!" Zama... has difficulty. Her laying started out easily enough, despite her long and stringy build she has egg-laying hips and was not inconvenienced. The brass-scale was having such an easy time, she insisted on documenting what was happening to her, both writing in her journal and calling out various changes, achievements and milestones.
Much to every other nest-mother's annoyance. "WE KNOW! What do you think we're doing!"
Then, she went silent in her book-fort nest. Nahuatl and the assisting Clutch-Mother went inside, and stayed. There were pained noises, some whimpering, consoling words. The Shamans Un'eth and Seyardu were called for, vanishing also, their miracles necessary. Zama endured, pulling through, her eggs survived, though 'the library' had an eerie aura that lingered long after.
Papalotl had a mixed experience. She kept working on her nest, right up to the end. She added straps to the supports, sanded and contoured them to her legs and tail. Stained the wood. Even after the last meal, heavy and sluggish and feeling like she might explode from being so full of eggs and food, she fought off sleep to make more adjustments. She had to be helped into her nest, screwdriver in hand, and told to rest. A command her body obeyed, dragging her mind along with it.
Lily helpfully completed her modifications, the little kobold braced in a stance and using both hands to turn the screwdriver, lashing her little pink tail for extra leverage.
Once Papalotl awoke three days later, she strapped herself in and went to work. The nest functioned as designed, although it was clear that relying on mechanical assistance made it rougher than it could have been, had she worked on herself instead. Finally done, she let herself hang from the bindings until her assistant and Lily got her out.
Lily's excitement grew, starting with the fire ceremony and then the feast. The kobold had helped with eggs and mothers in her nest, but this was all fascinatingly new. During the three days of waiting, she spent her time with her aunties, Braelnoir, Faranmidahn and Serendine, and substitute aunty Aryias-ays. They all had little to do but watch and wait for the gravid females to wake up. The Egg-Watchers gave a final briefing of what to expect, the Clutch-Mother's provided their other side of the pancake.
Lily and Vaera worked on carvings, and the pink kobold would often run out to show them to Tenoc, still waiting anxiously outside. Ever ready to provide a needful thing, should the need arise.
When the laying started, the kobold stuck by her Ssassa. Until Nahuatl sent her out to wait with Tenoc; there were some things she shouldn't see. Sith'makar eggs would be frighteningly large compared to kobold ones, and the sounds of nest-mothers in effort and distress, in particular her own, would be traumatizing. Tenoc was tasked with keeping the squirm 'bold at a safe distance no matter how she felt about it.
Faran stayed with Cryo throughout it all, a great comfort and assistance. The little halfling had already seen far too much, as halflings do, and more experiences would be added. She has the smallest, strongest hands present. They are needed.
"Prom...! Promise you'll... ah... never... ah... speak of this!"
"My oath as a Knight, no one will ever hear of this from me!" The fluffy knight promises, consigning her experiences to the scratch-pad part of her memory all halflings have for the sights they see when they are half as tall as others.
Cryosanthia's delivery went well, no pain too intense, no stretch too straining. Her dance experience assisting in a similar way to Xochi's fight training. Like Xochi, the white-scale wouldn't stay on her nest. She'd leave between each egg, to wander and check on the others, say encouraging words, try to slip out of the palisade to speak to Tenoc and Lily and get gently turned back around by Braelnoir or Aryia. She has more important things to do than socialize, but she was going to fit that in regardless. It seemed part of her process, to relax her, with the motion helping.
Soon she was done. Soon they were all done. Metztli was the first to finish, Zama the last. It wasn't a race but it was a marathon, each having a unique and terrifying experience that was same as their ancestors before them. Cryo laid six eggs, the others a similar number. She curled up around her clutch, they all did, now proper Nest-Mothers, exhausted and looking like deflated balloons.
It was a long day, for all. All finally through it, nothing more to do but take a much needed rest. The words, the cries, the pleading, the encouragements, the happy gasps, the cacophony and chaos.
"It is complete!" Nahuatl announces, "Congratulations, new mothers. You bring forth the next generation, you have done well. Your task does not end here, but starts here. Your minds will take over from your bodies being pushed. For now, rest!"
"Get 'im Sparky," Cryosanthia says, her left hand flickering through strange and graceful gestures. A Speaker to the last, she signals the end also. A pale blue glow tracing along her scales, out to her fingertips and becomes a tiny flame-dragon. It bobs its body once in a lizardy push-up, then shoots up into the sky. A zig-zag path and a whizzing scream marking the tiny dragon's passage. It explodes high above the nesting grounds, filling the sky with fireworks. Flickering embers spreading out in a wide canopy, drifting down and illuminating the bones of Sufri'gan. He lies curled protectively over Mictlan, as the mothers do in theirs. Silence, in the night. Finally, the greeting comes true.
Peace on your Nests.
Dramatis Personae
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= Grand Nest Mother -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= Nahuatl Sith-Makar Female A copper-scaled, elderly, grand dame, Nest-Mother mother. -=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--= -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= Nest Mothers =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= Cryosanthia 6'9" 291 Lb Sith-Makar Female A dashing, elegant white-scaled lizard woman, gravid. Xochicotzin, 'Xochi' Sith-Makar Female A red-scaled, mesomorphic, Egg-Watcher, gravid. Cozamalotl, 'Zama' Sith-Makar Female A brass-scaled, stringy, Lore-Keeper, gravid. Itzpapalotl, 'Papalotl' Sith-Makar Female A bronze-scaled, squat, Crafter, gravid. Metztli Sith-Makar Female A gold-scaled, graceful, Crafter, gravid. -=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--= -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= Clutch Mothers =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= Faranmidahn 3'3" 35 Lb Halfling Female Albino Lucht woman. Knight of Spiders. So, SO Fluffy. Hetzakoatl 6'10" 301 Lb Sith-Makar Female A heavily scarred, whitescale warrior. Vaera 7'0" 262 Lb Sith-Makar Female A tall, dark red Makari with a wooden leg. Un'eth 6'2" 275 Lb Sith-Makar Female An ebon-scaled female Sith-makar. Seyardu 5'6" 150 Lb Sith-Makar Female A friendly silver sith-makar with a perpetual squint. Serrendine 3'0 32 Lb Halfling Female Faran's mother, Lily's aunty, Professor. -=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--= -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= Egg Watchers =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= Tayanna Sith-Makar Female A green-scaled, muscular, Egg-Watcher, patient. Yaotl Sith-Makar Female A black-scaled, sturdy, Egg-Watcher, very patient. Braelnoir 5'11" 146 Lb Human Female A tall, pale Acanian woman, branded in silver. Aryia 4'8" 110 Lb Shadow Elf Female A heavily scarred mul with a resolved look about her. -=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--= -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= Littlest Big Sister -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= Little Fang, 'Lily' Kobold Female A crafty and creative, pinkscale youngling, Cryo's daughter. -=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--= -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= Interested Males -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= Tenoc 7'0" 280 Lb Sith-Makar Male Tall, green-scaled Sith'Makar hunter Geir 5'8" 200 Lb Sith-Makar Male A short, copper-scaled Sith-makar. Rocky 6'8" 460 Lb Sith-Makar Male A grey Sith in armor, bit like a statue. Boaz 7'0" 292 Lb Sith-Makar Male Golden Sith with silver arm and bronze leg. Sjach 7'0" 268 Lb Sith-Makar Male Lithe emerald and charcoal sith male. Skielstregar 7'2" 330 Lb Sith-Makar Male A tarnished bronze scale with fangs and empty eyes. Galidor 6'9" 265 Lb Sith-Makar Male Sith-makar with golden claws. -=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--= -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= SoftSkin Friends -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= Jinks 3'4" 39 Lb Gnome Male A gnomish fellow in fancy garb and jewelry. Sabina 5'4" 130 Lb Human Female Tsuran woman of dark hair and green eyes Morgan 4'10" 79 Lb Half-Elf Female Short pixy like half elf with fair skin Mikilos 6'8" 180 Lb Dawn Elf Male Tall male dawn elf, rosey blonde and handsome. Cesran 6'1" 185 Lb Human Male A tall dark-skinned man Merek 5'10" 215 Lb Human Male A black-haired, dusky male with golden eyes. -=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=