Tletepetl

Log Info

• Title: Tletepetl

• Characters: Rune, Skielstregar, Ravenstongue
• DM: Harkashan

• Place: Am'shere - Wuja Docar

• Summary: Harkashan's family is ready to explain to him, his ties to the being known as Thirku - and its involvement throughout the ages. He, and a small close group of friends, are invited to sit with Nasir and learn of a far off history.

Wuja Docar, the name of both a mountainous dormant volcano, and the community at its base. With a forked hill-shape coming off of it, with said Sith-makar community hugged against the base of the mountain, it holds a rather unusual spot within Am'shere. So far to the west, that there's quite a few local tribes that do not recognize Tradespeak so well.

There's a bit of a hubub near the mouth of the mountain right now. Its beautiful colorful walls and strings on display, Harkashan is waiting at the entrance. Standing before him, a small Sith-makar. Shorter than Rune. Green of scales, wearing colored feathers along her neck, and a few covering cloths below the waist.

Harkashan in turn, is wearing similar clothing. A few ribbons of color hanging on his horns, and scraps of clothing that wrap around him in a more aesthetic and ritualistic sense than what one might consider 'clothing'. Golds and reds and blacks of his scales contrasting against quiet blues and greens and yellows.

Those who are coming to learn more of Harkashan's ties, have been invited to wear similar garb, or to paint their skin, in preparations for entering Wuja Docar - which is revered as almost a bit of a 'holy site' to those of this village.

Standing not far, but likely a few steps back from Harkashan and his nest-mother, is Rune. The half-elf stands in contrast, yet again, to these other two. Knowledgable, at least in part, to many Makari traditions, she is wearing a simple wrap around her chest and a matching loincloth, both in a mottled pattern of blues. From her short hair, a number of ribbons in blues, grays, and blacks dangle back behind her ears.

The side of her body not already decorated with tattoos is painted with the markings of the warrior caste, and she seems to carry nothing in the way of weaponry, despite most knowing that she tends to always have something hidden /somewhere/. The only thing that sets her appart, of course, is her shoes. Makari don't tend to wear them, and despite attempts to blend them in with a bit of splashed fabric paint, they still do speak more of the world of Alexandros than of Am'shere.

For now, Rune is quiet and respectful to the weight of the situation, though that doesn't mean that she is any less fidgety than normal. She's already toying with one of the lose ribbons, running it between her fingers.

It left Skielstregar with a minor bit of surprise despite all indication that he would be invited. And wanting to put a good foot forward to overcome the issues from before, he does everything he can. Even if it may make him uncomfortable.

Approaching the mouth of the mountain was that of a shiny, muscular, metallic sight. Several silver chains that connect to dangling glass figurines of dragons sway from his horns, softly clanking, along with several ribbons tied among them of golds, whites, and greys.

Along his face, neck, and arms is gold draconic runes, depicting the sun and its warmth. Along with a matching loincloth of gold and brown. Though one stark difference is... his chest is bared, with a several gold runes going over his torso. The scales there too are shiny, save for a nasty, old, greyed scar that spans several handwidths on his sternum.

He bows his head on arrival, fingers fidgeting as well as he turns slightly to- oh. The rest of the ribbons that were offered to him were on his tail. Tied off and clashing heavily with the motif. "Peace on your nests," he rumbles quietly.

Cor'lana is here, but far more nervously than one might expect her to be. She'd made the mistake of mentioning to Ocuir that she wanted to be respectful and participate in a way that would be enthusiastically received, given that she was invited here as a friend... Which means that she's wearing black markings that trail all over her arms and her legs, coming up to wreathe around the markings on her chest and nesting delicately around the curuchuil on her left hand. The markings even go up her neck and face, ending in two feathers underneath Cor'lana's violet eyes, and her long dark hair has been braided into two identical braids intertwined with blue and violet ribbons. She wears wrappings around her upper chest and a loose white skirt that goes down to her ankles at the longest part, slashed open in the middle to allow for greater airflow and movement.

Which is to say it's a bit more revealing than what she's used to, and a lot more intricate than she was expecting. Pothy's on her shoulder, too, and the bird has received some similar markings, 'painted' onto his feathers with something like crushed berries. He looks quite happy to be here.

"This is lovely," Cor'lana manages after a moment to her friends. "I'm really... really honored to be here. I mean it."

Harkashan can't help but let out an appreciative sound as Rune steps up beside himself, looking down at the small half-elf with a sweet rumble in his breath. Reaching out for a moment, touching just the back of the finger of his index-finger - leaning it against her hip for a moment. No words, just a show of affection and appreciation. One that Nasir of course doesn't miss. But she speaks not of it - instead just smiling at the two of them.

"Peace upon your nest." Nasir answers Skielstregar, as he approaches. Appreciatively taking some time to look at the wonderful golden markings so visible on him. "The Dragonfather is with us today, it would appear." She rumbles to Skiel with wise eyes. "May your strength as a Warrior not be needed today." She then adds. "And instead, your strength as a Brother to Shaman Harkashan."

And the intricacy on Ravenstongue's body and cloth does not go unnoticed either. "I see Ocuir got a hold of you." She simply declares without a shred of doubt in her eyes, bemused as she gazes upon Ravenstongue's body. She may be older than Harkashan by multiple generations, but of all of them, she is still young at heart.

"Please." She then remarks. "Thank you all for coming. What I am looking to reveal may... change your view of our people. Of the egg-parents of Shaman Harkashan. Of me, and Inhelk. I bid of you, patience, and a listening ear, and a listening heart."

Then, she turns, and she begins to walk inside.

Harkashan looks to Rune and the others, letting out a bit of a rumbling questioning noise, before he begins to move first. Slow in his pace, making sure the others walk 'with him' rather than 'behind him'. As a family, rather than people following him.

Entering the caves, colors quickly grow. Old paintings across the walls, lit by torches. Various displays of dragons, volcanoes, and a people fleeing. Other paintings of the various 'Gods' of the Sith-makar. Drawing deeper, until they enter a chamber off to the side of the halls. A door opened by Nasir, waiting for them to enter.

Within, hotstones are ready to be seated upon. Cloths laid out on them to offer a cushion for the Half-Sil. It feels a bit like a sauna here, but there's a pink-ish misty color to the air. Multiple subtle scents of something... herb-like. There's also multiple pitchers filled with cold water next to each

Nasir moves to sit down on one of the many hotrocks, and waits for the rest to join her. Watching as Harkashan takes position next to her.

The subtle signs of appreciation are enough to draw a hint of color to Rune's cheeks, but she is also quick to give him a little nudge of that same hip, as if trying to make sure that Harkashan is focused on the moment rather than on her attire.

However, it's impossible not to have her own eyes catch the beautiful tapestry that is now Ravesntongue. "Wow..." She murmurs, sounding bemused. "Ocuir out did herself. Too bad Telamon isn't here to see this." Rune muses, "Then again, I'm not sure you would have gotten out of the guest house if that were the case." A wink is offered towards the other half-elf.

Then, the amusement quiets as Nasir speaks and Rune schools her expression back into one that is more serious and respectful. Her eyes glance between the various members, giving a nod to Skielstregar as well before she falls into place with the rest of the group as they enter.

And here is where Rune's fascination with stories may very well have her falling ever so slightly behind at points. Her eyes are drawn to the depictions on the cave walls, perhaps even spending a moment to bow her head to the imagery of the Fate Spinner, Eluna. Then, there is a quick and quiet movement of her feet to catch up with the others.

When they finally arrive, Rune takes a place on the other side of Harkashan, her head tilted with obvious curiosity.

Skielstregar takes a moment to look over his friends-- and is that Shaman Ravens? He waves happily. But his attention shifts quickly to Nasir, his multi-ribboned tail smacking the ground in appreciation. "Thank you, Shaman Nasir," he beams in his native tongue. "This one will support their Brother as best they can."

And then he's fidgeting with and arm across his chest. "... this one will do their best, Shaman. This one is in hardly any position to judge. They will have patience."

And then he follows beside Harkashan, his wide tail swaying wide to reassuringly smack against the lavascale's. He slows as they enter the cave, his gait careful and measured, not wanting to stumble into anything on the walls as he inspects the walls in idle curiosity. Especially on the Dragonfather.

The silverscale takes a seat on a hot stone, him hugging his tail to avoid it from flailing about the place. Settling in, he deeply inhales the herb scent.

Cor'lana, of course, flushes at Rune's remarks, and it's very at odds with the portrait of Cor'lana that's been painted (or more accurately, a woman named Lor'cana) in certain volumes of the Crimson Pen, that's suggested that the half-sil woman is incredibly comfortable with herself. "Y-Yeah," she eeks out after a moment. This is a woman who has disintegrated a man for killing her husband, and yet she acts far removed from that fact.

This is underscored by Pothy giving a dramatic sigh and leaning into Cor'lana's ear. "Chin up, sunshine!" he says in the voice of a very robust and energetic woman, mimicked from somewhere else. Cor'lana just nods quietly and her eyes are drawn to the cave walls like Rune's, but she takes care to not get lost. These are not her lands--and it would be rude to her hosts as a guest to make them have to retrieve her.

"I try my best not to judge anyone," Cor'lana murmurs in reply to Nasir's words. She knows better than anyone to not arrive to certain conclusions.

Harkashan shares a tail-thwap with Skielstregar, smiling at his brother. There's a bit of worry in his eyes however. After all, there's another entity within his heart. One he doesn't truly know and understand yet.

Once everyone is seated and comfortable, Nasir breathes out a white mist from her nose, which joins with the pink mist in the air. Her hands lifting, as some of the garment she is wearing 'shivers' a bit in response to it all. A bit of magic erupting throughout the place. Red lines in the walls, previously invisible, come to glow ever so faintly. There's a subtle 'intoxicating' element to the scent.

As an image begins to spring up within the room, made of white and pink mist. Coalescing into the shape of a group of houses. "Hundreds of years ago, before the Awakening, Wuja Docar stood in this very same place." Followed by the smoke moving, showing a smaller volcano. The houses of that community further away from the volcano.

Nasir takes a moment, taking in a breath, then breathing out again. More mist joins in.

The smoke then changes, dispersing the previous images, showing a young Ocuir, looking after various Sith-makar. Then worried as she looks to the side, followed by massive serpents rearing up from the woods, and coming towards the community. Sith-makar run. Many of them being crushed easily.

Images of eggs cracking. Of people surviving, as the serpents slither away.

Where there are stories, there are those who are entranced by them, drawn to listen and hang on every word and image. Since a very young age, Rune has been this person, the one to listen with rapt attention. In fact, it's one of the only times that the half-sil can ever be seen sitting perfectly still. The only movement at all seems to come from the rise and fall of her chest and the slight shift of the air around them touching the ribbons in her hair.

Taking in those slow breaths, she can almost feel the way the magic of this location starts to activate. A magic that is far beyond her understanding, but yet still fascinating none the less. Her eyes follow the red lines, eventually finding their way back towards Nasir as she begins to speak.

Then, the half-elf's blue eyes stare into the images being played out in front of them. Normally, stories drove the mind's eye, but in this case, these were like witnessing a hazy version of events as if they happened before them through the mists of time.

However, her awe is also joined by a look of dismay, drawing her lips into a flat line and her ears slightly downward at the sight of the dark fate that beheld the Sith-Makar of this earlier age.

Skielstregar gives a lingering look to Harkashan. He chuffs and nudges his brother one more time before parting to sit at his own seat.

Soon his gaze shoots upwards to the red lines, magic pulsing through the space.Jagged maw opening and clicking shut as images begin to appear. Skiel shifts a bit to rest his chin on his tail, his expression saddened briefly, but glad to see the People making a come back.

The images tug at burned and half eaten memories. His mind wandered to his own tribe, and what little of it he could recall. He shakes his head. Focus. "... that is why we do not name young until after their first year," he explains quietly to the two softskins. "Am'shere is harsh."

Cor'lana has taken a seat next to Rune on account of the fact that their hotstones have been cushioned, and like Rune, she herself seems enthralled, although there's something analytical in the violet eyes, as though she's trying to discern the precise magic behind what's happening here in addition to following the presentation.

Sadness falls in her eyes as she listens to Skielstregar's explanation. To have young, and to not know if they will live until a year in... Such a thing is so painful to Cor'lana. The sith-makar hold a greater collective sadness than she could have ever realized. "I didn't know," she murmurs.

Pothy nuzzles lovingly into Cor'lana's hair, to keep her at ease, but otherwise, he pays attention.

The story in the mists of times proceed. Sith-Makar keep moving. Surviving. Roaming the area around the volcano. Generations pass. Some of them survive, are stronger. Splits in the tribe, as some depart - refusing to remain in the area.

"Am'shere was far more harsh, before the Awakening. For we did not yet learn properly." Nasir remarks as Skielstregar speaks up. "We did not understand the world yet." Lowering her head in similar sadness when Ravenstongue speaks as well.

As a dragon is displayed, coming into the world of the area around the volcano. Changing shape into a Sith-makar, hugging, holding an egg, nurturing, then, turning back into a dragon again and flying off towards the volcano, and disappearing...

The Sith-makar child grows up, and then the serpents come once more. A great fight. One serpent defeated, but, the child becomes broken in the battle, and dies.

Another display, the dragon returning. Another offspring. Two offspring. Powerful warriors crash against the serpents. A victory... then, crushed under the weight of the threat once more. But the community grows just a bit under what little they are afforded. But the dragon never returns.

Then, Inhelk, born to Ocuir. And not long after, Nasir. Hatching from eggs amidst a terrible storm. As a serpent, far larger than the last ones, appears. Showing Ocuir grabbing the two small ones - Nasir and Inhelk, and running off with them. The community behind them, broken.

"That year had been especially bad. There was nobody left of Ocuir's generation. She did her best to protect me and Inhelk. But... there was nothing left beyond a few others."

"I think Harsh is an understatement." Rune whispers, the first time her voice has interrupted the story, it seems. If there is one thing that gets to her, it has always been children struggling and suffering and there is so much of that playing out in front of her. Generations of Makari, their hatchlings, their people, all barely managing to make an existence here.

And then, the dragon. Her brows furrow at first, wondering if this is real or if it is simply folklore. The being that has its claws in Harkashan may very well be some sort of dragon, but those creatures were more myth than reality, these days.

Then... Harkshan's family. The flight from danger as children has her body tense, despite the fact that she knows they would survive. This pain runs deep, though, enough so that she doesn't quite rein herself in and reaches a hand out to lay against the lava-scaled Makari's arm.

Skielstregar bows his head. "Sssa, it is," he adds sadly to Rune before falling silent to watch the images play out. Scaled brows shoot up at the sight of the dragon, even just the image of one sparks a reverence in his frame. Watching intently.

He finds himself leaning forward, dead gaze locked on the images. Fighting. Death. Fighting. Death. Fighting. Fleeing. His shoulders lax. A good choice to run. "It is a difficult choice to run, but not all battles need be fought," the Warrior intones, instinctively feeling a blood-deep sadness of this history.

More death, more fire, and Cor'lana remains still, still as can be, like she feels if she moves than somehow it will all be ruined. That the course of history might somehow change if she even breathes. And then Nasir speaks again. The pain of knowing what the sith-makar who had so enthusiastically welcomed her and decorated her despite her softskin nature as she would any other member of her people had endured...

Cor'lana finds herself moved to tears. Little things that well up within her eyes. But she tries to keep her little breaths so quiet. Tries not to bother anyone with the fact she is so sorrowed.

Harkashan reaches back out to Rune. This is all history he'd only been vaguely aware of. He'd heard tales from Nasir about how their people went through great hardship, and that the volcano was their home and their protector. But he had never truly understood just /how/ harsh things had been before. He shifts his hand, inviting Rune into his. His tail touching to Skielstregar.

Nasir pauses for a moment, taking a deep breath... then...

Mist once more. An image of Inhelk and Nasir, sitting before Ocuir. Holding hands in the same way that Rune and Harkashan are right now. Their tails curled together. Listening to tales from Ocuir - show mist within mist. Telling the same tale. But this time, it has Nasir pointing at the dragon flying towards the Volcano, then pointing outside of a small cave towards the volcano on the horizon.

"We took a chance on vague tales of the Dragon-Amongst-Kin. Of Ocuir's witness. After all, the first child the Dragon had... was her own. And this was Our Land." She explains. "So we walked..." Showing her people moving back towards the volcano. Slowly growing taller. Fighting battles. Settling, resettling. Avoiding the Serpents...

Until arriving at the mouth of the volcano, where they create a great fire, and begin to dance around it. And in that moment, as if compelled by the vision before them, a word slips towards their lips. Like this 'true understanding' of a presence being displayed. It is not forced from their tongues. But it lays there, at the edge. As within the mists, something red starts to come 'forward'. A dragon's head showing against the volcano made of mist. A sight that might instill a measure of fear.

"Thirku." Harkashan rumbles.

For much of her time in Wuja Docar, Rune had kept her distance to avoid complications with Harkashan's family. Her own past making it difficult for her to open up to more than the found family that she had found in those like Skielstregar and Cor'lana and so many others. Yet, at this moment when Harkashan opens his hand, she slips her fingers between his, unwilling to let him face this past, his past, without that support.

Family be damned. They can either accept her, or not.

Then, she turns her eyes back to Nasir, watching this more recent tale play out in the shifting mist and smoke of the room. Once more, her brows furrow. Understanding that this was the founding, or re-founding of the settlement and the start of their lives here.

"So... the dragon is sort of your settlement's patron?"

Skiel's tail slips out of his embrace, the large trunk of a thing sliding over to touch and rest against Harkashan's. And a hand reaches over to pat Cor'lana on the shoulder. A nice chill against the heat of the place.

But once more, his attention is drawn back to the mists. The Warrior's head tilts to the side. It was interesting to see their oral tradition at play, with Inhelk and Nasir being told this very same tale. Fascinating. Watching the People move with longsighted purpose. And it is achieved.

And then a crimson silhouetted hue of a draconic being. His maw mouths it after Harkashan. Thirku. Rune comes to a conclusion that Skiel is slow to connect the dots, him looking to Nasir for some sort of confirmation.

Skielstregar's little pat on the shoulder earns him a grateful little look from Cor'lana, and the sorceress moves to dry her tears. When Rune asks the question, however, it perks her up, and there's now finally something in those eyes besides sorrow.

It's realization.

"Of course," she says softly. "It's like... Grandfather and I. How he's always watched over our family..."

She stares at Thirku's image. She doesn't seem terribly afraid. If anything, she seems utterly fascinated. A curiosity like a much smaller bird going to approach a lion.

"Not... quite like a watchful being like that." Nassir answers Rune and Ravenstongue. "They are not so well natured, not like a guardian..."

Another breath, blowing her fumes to the air. The Volcano rumbles, as the dragon's head seems to grow larger against the volcano. There's clearly a sense of not remembering reality as well. That this was an event that was so much 'larger than life' to the Unawakened Sith-makar, they did not even quite understand what was happening yet.

At the same time, the large snakes approach once more - summoned by the rumbling of the Volcano. So, the Sith-makar dance hard. Bolder. Crying up to the skies.

THIRKU! THIRKU! ASTAHII SVAUST UCLAR THIRKU!

"We asked for strong children, and to free us from the plague of these great serpents. And in return, they wished but one thing..."

The Volcano splashes. Bursting red light. Volume rising.

Those here hear the demand ring from the air. The 'Memory' held onto, so string, that it echoes even in this moment. Draconic in nature, but they understand as if it were spoken to them in person.

PROMISE ME ONE OF YOUR CHILDREN, AND I WILL GIVE YOU WHAT YOU DESIRE.

They see, as the Sith-makar look amongst eachother, then mouth the answer.

"We promised."

Followed by the volcano erupting. Flowing. The red glow within the chamber grows. The heat growing intense.

Harkashan's grip on Rune's hand firms up. Nasir looking between the two. Smiling. But there's an apologetic nature to her. After all, they are learning why Harkashan is having so much trouble...

As the volcano in the mists erupts further. Flowing. Forming a 'fork' as it flows down. Around the dancing people. As it flows, melting the Serpents that approach. Melting their nests. Devasting, then... destroying them. Woods burning. The jungle burning. Chaos erupting. Heat flaring...

But when it is all over.

"We were free from the Serpents. But, in return, we shackled one of our own."

She looks to Harkashan, whose expression is... hard to read in that moment.

The confirmation that this being is not a benevlent guardian in the same way that Cor'lana's Grandfather is, leaves a soft sigh of resignation from the half-elf. Shaking her head, the motion moves a few strands of hair across Rune's brow, a few ribbons trailing over her bare shoulder.

Her eyes turn back to the tale being played out before them, watching the call for protection and the pleas of the people who have seen so much death and destruction. She can't really fault them for seeking help from a being that is, at least to them, similar to a god.

And yet, the sacrifice they made is one that effects someone she cares about... someone she loves. Rune's eyes look to Harkashan, then back to Nasir, not moving her hand from the lava-scale's own, making sure he has that support. "So... what exactly does it mean to be shackled to the service of Thirku?" She asks, outright. "Other than him spacing out from time to time like his brain is off in another place entirely..."

Skielstregar's expression and scent shifts to a more concerned affair as Nasir doesn't exactly confirm it as a guardianship. And his large head shifts back to the mists.

Dead eyes nictate, him sitting more upright as events unfurl. Something old scratching the back of his head at tattered memories. Even he is shaken at the cries, the dancing. He can't put his finger on it at all why he feels this way. Perhaps he sees himself down there, doing exactly that. Pleading to a higher power to save them. It hits a little close to home. Or, something in his tainted blood hits close.

He flinches as the volcano rings, the voice booming. Lava erupting and flowing. And he's found lightly panting, each breath making puffs of frozen mist spill from his nostrils.

Still reeling, the best he can do at present is flick his tail over his brother's.

Cor'lana pauses only a moment in the conversation. Her eyes narrowing as she thinks.

And then her hand goes carefully to the curuchuil on her chest.

"But I was promised, too," Cor'lana says carefully. "To my Grandfather. He had an arrangement with my family--the firstborn's firstborn, when he comes calling, must come live with him in Quelynos. It is why the firstborns are all marked with the feather."

She looks to Harkashan. "Do your people know what happened truly to the one who was shackled? It was assumed by my father that my Grandfather was a monster, but--he wasn't. He _isn't_. Sometimes, these entities, they're... they're not all that dissimilar to us. Sometimes all they want is someone to love and care for and cherish."

Her voice grows soft, in the way that it is sometimes when she bursts into poetry, but this time, she does not flow smoothly into verse. Not yet.

Sometimes, things are not so simple. Not all beings are benevolent. Yet. When Nasir hears Rune's sigh, the woman whispers; "Do not be too upset. I do not believe it is a being who means evil either. It protected us, even if we did have to pay a great cost." The explains.

The first words from Harkashan are not to Nasir. Instead, he touches Skielstregar's shoulder, having noticed his breathing, and the pale mist. "Are you alright, Brother?" He asks of him, squeezing his fingers against his scales. Looking concerned for him.

The Shaman then looks forward, rumbling.

"It is not for me to judge the Old Ways. The Sith-makar are bound to Am'shere. We could have forsaken this place, fled from the Charnites. But we dug in and fought. Places we thought were not able to be retaken - we retook them. I cannot sit that I fault you for taking such measures to ensure all those sacrifices of the past were not wasted." He remarks to Nasir. His voice remaining even.

"But I echo Rune's concern. You say it may not be benevolent, but neither is it evil. So... what do they wish from me? Why..."

Nasir nods her head as Ravenstongue speaks. "I do not believe they are without love. Ocuir knew the Dragon-Amongst-Kin as a loving mate. Intense. Fiery. But when she saw them once-more, she saw less. And when we finally called them at the Volcano... they had changed. I will not guess at their reasons."

She turns back to Rune and Harkashan. "I believe you should ask them yourself, Harkashan." There's a sweet adoration in her eyes. Looking at her egg-child. "But Thirku is not unknown to the world beyond. Ocuir always said, most of all, the Dragon-Amongst-Kin wished to see the world. Not through their own eyes, not through their own deeds. But through that of others."

The reaction from Skielstregar draws Rune's gaze as well, but she is further away from him and can only offer a tilt of her head. Much of the memories of the Sith-Makar run deep.

For Cor'lana, her interactions with such beings have always been positive ones, filled with the love of family and the welcome of home. For Harkashan it had been strange lapses that had sometimes left Rune wondering if he was going to lose himself entirely. For Rune, it has been mystery, uncertainty, and sorrow. It seems that no two are remotely alike in that...

Still quiet, driven by her own thoughts and the weight of what they have learned, she looks to Harkashan, "Maybe it is something we need to ask Thirku." Worry lingers on her features, "And let it be known that they should take care. It won't do them much good if you fall in a fight because you space out at the wrong moment."

Skielstregar's frame is tense at being touched, but it's what gets him to come back to the present. The intoxicating scents and the imagery was doubly effective on makari. "This one is fine," he murmurs back to Harkashan, reaching up to squeeze the hand on his shoulder. "It was just... visceral, for this one. Like... agh, their memories... it is hard to explain, they need think on it..." The lava-scaled arm is given a reassuring pat before he's joining the conversation proper.

He shakes his head. Skiel has some trust in higher beings, but those are typically of the divine. And he had only seen brief moments of Harkashan's lapses. "Even so, intense fire can burn out and away many things..." he murmurs, staring at the space where the dragon was. His thoughts on Dragoon Aelwyn and his carefree attitude. "... be wary, Brother. But this one agrees, knowing more of this chaining is important."

"You should ask Thirku," Cor'lana says in agreement with Rune. "A conversation. That's what I did, effectively--when I didn't know everything about Grandfather, when he terrified me by sending birds to come after me, I went looking for information, and... I made a temporary place for him to cross from Quelynos into our world. So he could speak to me and I to him, and so we could define our boundaries, and come to understand each other better."

She reaches up and pets Pothy, who seems somewhat uneasy himself about the whole thing. "It's an arrangement, but that doesn't mean it has to be one-sided--and that doesn't mean it has to be the same after so many years. People change... Families change... and so do entities, too. They are not immune to the passing of time. Their hearts are hard for us to fathom, but they are not completely iron fortresses."

"I can help you with those." Harkashan rumbles to Skielstregar. "If you need help with unearthing those." Another soft squeeze to his Brother's shoulder, before he turns back to Rune. A slow nod.

"It's become lighter. Easier to handle." He admits. "I think they are learning how to work with me." He then lifts his hand and touches some of the markings visible to those around him. The subtle pulse of red glow amidst his scales.

Ravenstongue and Rune both basically tell him the same. Talk to them. Talk to Thirku. "I met it, once. It was... overwhelming. I wish to come to it with the right questions. To ask them, what it desires, how it feels... those are ones I can ask now." He rumbles.

He then looks to Nasir. "Thank you, Mother."

The short Sith-makar smiles back at him. "I'm sorry. And... thank you, Harkashan. You should listen to the young woman with you. She is wise, and clearly has a lot of experience around such things. Lean on them." Before looking to Rune.

"And lean in the one you love of course. As she leans on you." Before looking to Skielstregar. They had already shared words before all of this.

Rune can understand all too well the reluctance of wanting to face such a being once more, especially without knowing the right questions or the right way of dealing with them. Her own encounters had not been without trial. Trials that still need to be taken on, but that is something for another time.

"You have time. There's no need to rush." Rune confirms with a nod of her head. If nothing else, they now knew what had brought on this connection and what it might mean. It is better than the fear of the unknown.

And yet, when the eyes of Nasir fall on her, that faint blush forms again on her freckled cheeks. It is confirmation enough as she nods once. "This isn't something he'll have to face alone. He has many who stand beside him."

Skielstregar bobs his head once to Harkashan. "This one will take you up on that offer," he accepts, but doesn't extrapolate upon that as he listens about the burden placed on Harkashan. "If you need this one to keep you cool when talking to them, just let this one know," he quietly jokes, but affixes Harkashan with a steady look. Undertoning the 'if you need me, just ask'. "Warrior Rune speaks true. There is time.

There is, however, a glance to Rune. To Nasir. Harkashan. Rune. What were they conveying unspoken? He looks to Cor'lana for guidance. No, wait, that's Pothy.

Pothy....

The large silverscale's stomach rumbles loudly. A reminder of snack time.

Pothy stares at Skielstregar. He looks longingly at Skielstregar. Not in the sense that he intends to turn the silver sith-makar into a platinum buffet, but in that he understands Skielstregar's tummy-grumbles. It is such a long time to wait for food.

Cor'lana, however, has her eyes on her friends. Her allies, who have rode with her into battle, who have seen her husband die before her eyes and were there to give her their support in the aftermath of that horrible event. She knows what she must give.

"I will help you," she says, "as much as I possibly can. You are a friend, Harkashan--as are Rune and Skielstregar. Beloved allies, beloved friends. Do not let yourself falter and let us aid you and guide you into this ordeal."

She looks to Rune with a small smile. She'd meant it as much for her as much as she did for the Deathsinger. For, while the word 'kin' means that of blood, for the sorceress--she has also found it often to include that of people who have shed blood for each other. And that was worth acknowledging, too.