Family and Caste

Outside the weather is lovely, a blue sky and a sun that offers its light to the world below. Enough for one to forget the chill wind that blows now and again to keep things cool as well as beautiful. Inside the Soldier's Defense however the world becomes bleak and unwelcoming. There's still too many hands about, but they've quickly become outnumbered by the sick. Too many sick. Most of them are plague victims now. With only a smattering of other cases like chocolate chips in a cookie.

Zeke is moving slowly through the throng, careful to avoid other people, but with his hood down so that it's easy to recognize him. Though in truth his signature black cloak makes him stand out just as much. To some he might look something like a specter of death. An agent of Vardama come to take away the souls of the departed waiting to go to their eternal rest. The shiny blue scales and oddly shaded iridescent green eyes mark him as something more mortal than that however.

And from the sunny day outside comes a tune, a cheerful yet somewhat mournful tune, that follows a wee Gobbo. Her dress, the smock discarded, is a bright blue, almost as deep as the sky above. A splash of colour in the bleakness of the hospital. She moves back and forth, bobbing up and down to the music, slapping her foot every so often to emphasize a place in the song. Acedia's dance moves her through the main rooms of the Defense, and in and out of more than a few smaller areas as well. The odd time someone comes at her, perhaps to get her to stop, or to play more quietly, she deftly spins away, using furniture and doorways as obstacles in their path.

Zeke turns toward the sound and stalls in his steps. He's staring at the woman playing the violin with wide eyes. The blue-scaled sith-makar looks both ways and then slightly at her to see if he's been noticed yet. Then he sidesteps, hurrying to the side so that their paths are not going to cross directly.

As he does this, someone brandishing a knife appears out of the woodwork. The person jumps out from in front of Zeke, past the now-frozen sith-makar and toward a bed holding a small boy who's mother sits beside him with puffy eyes. "Die plague-bearer!" The man yells the words loudly, and the mother acts immediately to protect the boy on the bed, leaping in front of the danger.

The music stops with a discordant sound, the bow dragged hastily across the strings. The Gobbo takes a deep breath, the fingers of her bow hand working in some pattern, and then draws the bow across the violin once again. The music that follows is otherwordly, to say the least. The taste of it is elven, but speaks of something deeper, older, as if from the bones of the world itself. Where before, eyes would follow and then dismiss Acedia and her music, for there is too much to do... now eyes are drawn to her. Compelled, even.

Enough, perhaps, to cause the assailant to pause. Distracted. Looking around, confused... what were they doing? Even the mother looks, from the corners of her eyes.

Zeke was frozen just for a second, trying to avoid the man who leaped out of the crowd to attack, but it was just a moment. Then seeing the man distracted the sith-makar moves forward quickly, his staff in hand cracking down firmly on the back of the man's head. The blow lands with a sharp crack. It's not enough to kill the man by any means, but the man does go down into a little puddle on the ground. "A hatchling!" Zeke says these words loudly and stares down at the unconscious attacker. "What were you doing attacking a /hatchling/?"

The Gobbo winces at the sound the staff-on-head action makes, and her music stops once more. "Tss.", she hisses thorugh her fangs, stomping over and unkindly thumping the man on the head with her foot, leaving it there for good measure. "Hush.", Acedia says to Zeke. "He's out cold. But I can answer. Fear. They are scared, Zeke, people are so scared of this plague. You know what fear does to people." She rubs at her face, accidentally thwaping herself in the forehead for doing so. "Oof. Anyway. If not fear, then this could be simply an escalation of what the Black Masks were doing. Nice swing, by the way."

"Ahhhh." Zeke says smartly, blinking at Acedia. "Peassce on your nessst Ascedia."

He looks between her and the body with little twitches of his tail. "Thisss one doess oness besst. Thisss one thinksss that fear isss no excussse to harm a hatchling." Zeke frowns even harder at the man on the floor, looking like thumping the man a second time is a tempting thought.

Acedia cants her head slightly. "Well o'course it's not an excuse." She shrugs and raises up a hand, wiggling it at him. "Easy now. Let's just get the guards here, and they can cart him off. But.. people do silly things when they are afraid. You have to admit that the plague situation is grim."

"You ssshould sstay here with him then. Thisss one will get the guard." Zeke starts to step away from her, his green eyes already on the exit.

She blinks at him a few times, her mouth opening and closing. "Er. Uhm. Okay." She swallows and takes up a defensive position, her bare foot still on the unconscious man's head. "Are you okay?", she asks of the mother protecting her child.

Zeke quickly steps away, hurring toward the exit as quickly as he can.

The mother of the child nods a little bit, coming out of her daze and staring down at the man who tried to hurt her son with an angry expression. "I'm fine, but I hope he wont be!"

It doesn't take long for the city guard to arrive, gladly taking the man into custody and thanking Acedia for bringing him down. They don't mention Zeke's assistance at all, and the sith-makar does not return with them.

Acedia nods slowly at the guards, looking a little embarrassed. "Erm, the Sith who came to tell you of this man, where did he go?" She runs a hand through her hair. "He's needed here so... point me in the right direction and I shall go to fetch him. And thank you for your hard work. I know it's rough keeping things safe in the city, with the plague running around the city."

The guard she speaks to looks at her with interest. "He hurried back here as soon as he could. Barely gave us much information really. Just that a man attacked the kid and that you stopped him." The guard thinks for a moment. "I think I saw him rushing toward the other side of the hospital."

The Gobbo offers the guard a curtsey, and rushes off in a swirl of blue. "Zeke?", she can be heard in a faux whisper. "Where are you?" The little blue whirlwind wends its way through the Soldier's Defense.

It doesn't really take very long to find the sith-makar. He's a conspicuous presence in his black cloak and being nearly seven feet tall. He stands now near a big pot of boiling water which he is stirring bedclothes into. One at a time adding each cloth carefully and stirring them into the pot with a big stick. He clearly hasn't spotted Acedia just yet.

Acedia slowly approaches him, and at a short distance away, she crosses her arms. "Why did you tell the guards I took the man down?", she says in a scratchy voice."

Zeke jumps a little at the sound of a voice behind him, and with shoulders slightly hunched turns toward Acedia. Seeing her his shoulders slump even more and he offers her a gentle sith-makar smile. One that flashes more teeth than it should and mimics the human expression that sith-makar really can't make. "Becausse you did." He nods low to her.

She bares her teeth at him. "I did not, you are the one who knocked him cold in one swipe of your staff. I cannot possibly do that. I am small and scrawny. All I did was distract him." She huffs at the man, "Don't make fun of me."

"Thisss one isss not. If you had not done ass you did, thisss one would not have been able to sstop him. Thisss one firmly believess that you could have done that too given a chance." He blinks at her slowly and then glances toward his pot of sheets.

"But without your staff, he might have succeeded in his foul deed. I cannot and refuse to take all of the credit for such a thing." The Gobbo stomps to his side, her eyes barely able to look over the edge of the pot. "Annnd you're doing my job too." Acedia rubs her cheek and looks down at her feet. "And you just left me there."

Zeke shrugs as if credit for this is nothing to him. No concern at all his posture says. "Thiss one isss doing what can be done to help." There's... some evasion in his words. Though it's hard to place. He takes a small step backwards and to the side as she gets closer. Cautious. "Thisss one iss ssorry."

The Gobbo huffs, still staring at the floor. "Just explain it to me." She pulls at a lock of her hair, fussing with it. "Why did you do this? Why leave me there wondering?"

The sith-makar looks away from her, tail flicking. "Thisss one..." Zeke huffs out a breath. "Thiss one did not know that you would be wondering."

"Is it really that difficult to tell that I care about you? Even a little?", Acedia wonders.

"Thisss one doess not undersstand. Why do you care about thisss one? Why thisss..." He trails off and clicks his jaw shut, not saying the rest of that sentence, but its clear that he's agitated. His tail flicking from one way to the other.

"I care because it seems that you care about me. You kept wanting to get me out of the hospital, to protect me. I thought that it was... nice. Despite my being upset." The Gobbo looks away, and crosses her arms. "You have been working so hard to fight the plague. And seeing Kruulvog die was a shock. Life is so fragile. So... so you need to care for the people in your life while they are there. You blink and you could lose them."

Zeke nods in seeming understanding, turns slightly and stirrs the pot to keep the cloth from settling for too long. It also keeps the pot from boiling over. "Thisss one undersstandss thisss, but thisss one..." He hesitates here, and glances toward her. Shakes his head. "Thisss one..." The sith-makar shuts his jaw and starts pulling the bedclothes out as quickly as he can. Piling them up beside the pot.

The Gobbo takes up a pair of tongs, and pulls the bedclothes apart, and as they begin to cool, she starts wringing them out. Acedia remains quiet, though the angle of her ears says she is listening intently.

However, Zeke says nothing more. He pulls all of the clothes out and with that done, quietly begins to take the ones that are rung out so that he can fold them. His large frame means that it's easy for him to fold the sheets into much smaller squares without needing aid from someone else. So they work in a sort of weighted silence, full of unsaid words and as far apart physically as Zeke can make them and still work with her in a reasonable way. It feels as though there is more than physical distance between them.

"So. Please finish what you were going to say.", the Gobbo says quietly, helping fold sheets as best she can, once she has wrung the water from all of them.

With the sheets wrung out, and Acedia folding the last of them Zeke stacks them and begins to pick them up. Hot fresh, clean towels to be taken to to the patients. All of it done with his right hand alone. It seems that a lifetime of practice can make anyone good at a task. "Thisss one would rather not. Thiss one hass patientss to attend to."

Acedia's expression takes on a tinge of annoyance, and the last, folded bed sheet is tossed upwards at him. Temporarily blocking his view of her, and a good portion of the room, until he catches it. If he does. In the few moments of time she has, she rushes forward, and aims a kick at Zeke's shin. "Stop leaving your thoughts hanging!", she growls. "Have an honest conversation with me, for once!"

Zeke startles back away from the towel, dropping the rest in an attempt to get the one that's flying at him. He manages to bat it down, but not before he's kicked in the shin. The pain startles a sound out of him. He drops backwards and seeing Acedia flinches even further away from the woman with a low noise emitting from him. It's hard to say if the sound is fearful or defensive. Perhaps a bit of both, but his posture is certainly the pose of someone waiting to be struck again. Hunched shoulders, body lowered, head down. One claw slightly raised to protect the vulnerable portions of his body. But not the left. It hangs at his side visible now like his artificial leg.

The Gobbo simply stands there, looking at him, breathing noisily through her nose. And then slowly settles to her knees. "I'm sorry.", she says softly. "I should not have done that. Forgive a stupid Gobbo?"

Zeke shuffles back away from Acedia. "Thissss issss why." He looks at her with a hurt expression. "You keep doing thessse thingsssss!" He shuffles back further away from her, leaving tossed towels between them.

The sith-makar slowly, very slowly and cautiously backs away from Acedia. He watches her like she might come back and attack her again. "If thisss wasss the firsst time thisssss one might believe the sssorry." His accent is deepening. "Now you attack thisss one. Thisss iss not ssorry."

Acedia cants her head slightly. "I've never attacked you before.", she says slowly. "This is the first time I've done that."

Zeke is quite distant from her now, and slowly regaining his stature. "Thisss isss not true."

She stares at him. "When have I attacked you before?" Acedia blinks several times.

"Thissss touching! Alwaysss with the touching!" He's irritated now, vibrating with it, sad with it, terrified with it. This boldness. This uncertainty if he should be doing this at all. Zeke backs away a little further.

The Gobbo blinks again and looks down. "I'm sorry for that too. I know you hate it." She rubs at her cheeks. "It's something softskins do. I can't help it."

Zeke is silent, stepping back away from her and shaking his head. He clearly doesn't know what to say. There's only a few towels in his hand still, but he doesn't seem to mind the ones he spilled before. Doesn't really seem aware of them.

Acedia lets out a low breath. "I'll go then, and I won't come back, so you don't have to worry about me." She turns and hobbles towards the doorway.

Zeke reaches out toward her, but he still doesn't know what to say. Doesn't know how to explain things that have been in the dark for too long. Doesn't know how to say anything in the face of... He's still afraid of her, and it should be laughable considering everything, but somehow its not. It's not because there's reason behind it that he hasn't shared. It hovers there in the air between them and he chokes on it. Makes a low rumbling noise like a cough. "Ascedia..."

The Gobbo gives a bit of a start at hearing her name, and stops in the doorway. "Just tell me.", she says softly. "Nothing can change if you hold in." Acedia slowly turns around in place, and leans against the doorjamb. "I'll listen. I won't judge. And I would like to earn your forgiveness."

"Sssome thingss, sssome thingss sshould not be ssaid." Zeke's hand falls to clutch at his cloak, to cover once more the limbs he so rarely shows. There's something there. Something in that habitual movement that comforts him. "Thissss one, thisss one will forgive you. Jussst /try/ not to do thesse things? Pleassse."

She takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly, blinking and rubbing at her eyes. "I'll go then. You can do the work they need of you without having to worry about me. Take care. I hope you are successful in beating the plague and curing the sick." Acedia slowly turns and slips out of the room.

Going after her seems wrong. It seems exactly the wrong thing to do to him. Yet his feet carry him forward a step. One and then two and he's at the door. Staring at her back and not knowing what to do with himself. She's close enough to touch but its something he can't do. He can't reach out. Doesn't know /how/. He feels terrible, but there's weight there tying him down. "Ascedia. Do not go becaussse of me."

"But unless you can face your demons, you will be scared of me." She hadn't got far, and stops once more. "You cannot do your work if you are looking over your shoulder, wondering if I'll attack you again." Her shoulders slump a little. "So I have to leave. You are needed here."

A tall darkly robed and blue-scaled sith-makar stands before the washroom holding a few towels and looking like he's utterly forlorn. His tail is low, almost curled around his feet as best it can. He looks toward the small goblin woman known as Acedia who's looking at him with tear-ladened eyes and he does not know what to say to her. Doesn't know what to say about his demons and the fact that she is... right. The nearly-seven foot tall figure begins to curl in on himself, head lowering. "Perhaps... it isss thisss one that sshould go. Perhapsss coming here; to Alexandria wass the wrong choisce."

"DON'T YOU DARE!", the Gobbo snarls. Though almost immediately she slaps a hand over her mouth, looking around and seemingly embarrassed for having yelled. "Alexandria was the right choice. They need you here. Nowhere else needs the light of Daues right now more than Alexandria. And YOU need Alexandria too. Admit it. You need to be needed. You need to do good work. You have that, here." Acedia gestures at the Soldier's Defense. "What you don't need is me. Someone taller can collect towels and bedsheets easier than I can, certainly. And they'll be more respectful."

...and that. That brings him up short. The heavyscale sith-makar looks up from the entryway. He's quiet, quiet at the goings-on. His look goes to the scaled, first--because of course it does. Then, to the gobber.

"Warrior-caste is here," he says, voice low and warm. "This place iss ssafe." And, nothing after that. No peace to the nest, no anything else. He looks at the two of them with warmth, and then turns briefly to a nearby priest. It appears a passing conversation, not one that may last too long--but a needed one.

Zeke startles back away from Acedia again, still half-afraid of her. It shows too, his fear. She tells him to stay and he starts shaking his head, slowly at first but with slightly more force. Finally he stops and realizes abruptly that their conversation - namely her yell - has drawn attention. His green eyes scan the faces looking toward them and his hand clutches again at his cloak. Struggling to keep it as closed as possible. Svarshan's words are met with nervousness, an uncertain look. "Thisss plassce issss not sssafe. Thissss one sssshould go."

Acedia huffs and shakes her head at Zeke. "I said I would leave so that you do not have to." The anger present moments ago melts away, and she turns to leave, bouncing face-first off of Svarshan and ending up on her behind, starting up at the tall Sith.

"Peasse to you. Thiss one is warrior-caste and. Of sservice to the Dragonfather." And a wall. A scaley wall. Svarshan leans down, scenting quietly. Smoke puffs from his muzzle, faintly. Just barely there. "Peasse to you. Both. One was passing here on the way to the. Temples. One heard--there wass..." he starts to say, and then looks around.

"...one heard there wass a great. Sscar in. Alessandria, our greatesst. Ally."

"Peasse to you, and on your nessst." Zeke's accent is very thick at the moment, his eyes settling on the other sit-makar. "There issss a plague. Have you not heard?" It seems like such a great and terrible thing that all the world should know of it though that is clearly not the case. Zeke's eyes flicker toward Acedia and... he looks vaguely afraid of the little goblin every time he looks at her.

The Gobbo does take note of that look in Zeke's eyes, and looks to Svarshan. "Scar?" She blinks and slowly stands. "I uh.." Acedia points to Zeke then. "He's working hard at removing the plague. He's very important to the work being done, but he wants to leave. 'Cause I hurt him. Can you convince him to stay, while I go... so that he can complete his work?" With that said, the wee woman begins to move around Svarshan, towards the exit.

"One has been hunting the. Demons, sshaman. Alessandria has...there are many Scars," the warrior-caste says, and lowers his head. "Everyone is. Needed. ..." The last ends with a kind of question but not-question, for a sith-makar is careful about asking another sith-makar about their health. So Svarshan looks to the gobber in quiet question, and then to Zeke. "He does. Not sseem to wish you to. Go."

Zeke ducks his head toward Svarshan, clearly agreeing with the other sith-makar about the fact that Alexandria faces many dangers. How to... "Thisss one isss. Thinking of leaving." Zeke looks at Acedia and shakes his head. "Thisss one isss. You sssaw hunter-casste. You ssaw what thisss one isss. Thisss one doess not wissh ssuch a one as thiss one isss to causse hardsship here. Ascedia sshould remain here."

Acedia pauses once more and looks to Svarshan. "He's scared of me. How will he work if I am here? And if he leaves, the plague will consume us all." She looks to Zeke. "I saw you knock out someone who was planning to murder a helpless boy, simply because he was sick from the plague. Why do you think this would cause hardship?"

"...."

The warrior-caste stops, and licks his muzzle. He tries again. "...hrnnn. One only knows thiss because of ...Sandy would call me. A dumb old lizard," he says. The warrior's muzzle twitches, warmly. "...do you know why the People form caste. And tribe?" he asks the gobber. He looks briefly, quietly to Zeke, and then keeps his focus on Acedia.

In truth Zeke is glad for the lack of attention. Moreso that those around them are slowly going back to their own business. There's much to be done here after all. He shuffles the towels he's holding so that he can keep his cloak pinned more easily and watches Svarshan talk to the goblin woman.

The Gobbo shakes her head. "No. I do not." She blinks up at Svarshan. "Is it connected to why you're all so tall?" Acedia slowly takes a step away from Svarshan, which incidentally takes her a step closer to the exit. Which she eyes for a moment, licks her lips and peers back up at Svarshan.

"...because we do not do well. Alone. ...from what this one understands of the. Shaman he has been alone a. Long time."

"A sith-makar without caste. Without tribe, is as scarred as the most desperate sslave among the. Charn. ...one without casste, without tribe...is without place, which is caste, and without family. Which is tribe. He..." The warrior exhales. Smoke comes with it, and he looks across at Zeke for a long moment, before turning back. "...cannot heal. The sshaman does not even. Have caste."

"If ...he cannot find family among the People. He must find it in other plasses. Or he will remain as he. Is."

The words bring Zeke's head down. "Thisss one triesss." He looks up hopefully. "Thisss one... Thiss one has kin in Chay?"

His tail is as low as it could go. If he could make himself disappear he would. If he had tears to give... But he does not. He has nothing but this broken posture to convey his lack of understanding. His inability to fix what time has broken in him. What was taken, and has never found a way back to him. "Thiss one isss ssorry. Thissss one.... Hass walked alone for perhapss too long. Thisss one doess not know how to..." He does not know how to be a part of a family. Does not know how to /not/ to be alone. In the end... His throat works, bobbing up and down. "Thisss isss why thisss one sshould go. Thisss one isss too broken to remain."

Acedia stares at Svarshan for a time, her ears drooping. "Can't you give him a caste? Adopt him into your family?", she wonders of him, her facial expression dipping well into sadness. The Goblin looks to Zeke and shakes her head again. "You are not too broken. Quit beating on yourself." She looks back to Svarshan. "Make him stay."

"...if. ...if you ask a ssith-makar about another. They will describe them. By how their heart iss. Warrior. Protector. Sshaman. Caretaker-of-the-sspirit. ...caste iss Place. It is grounding. Tribe is Family." The scarred warrior exhales. Quiet smoke. "Thiss is built into every. Ssith-makar."

"His heart hass caste. He is afraid to lissten to it. ...but look how he acts. Shaman-casste radiates from. Him. ...and you ask a lot of words of. This warrior," he says, adding this last with self-depreciating humor.

"We would take him in. His place is ready. ...we do not turn him away." The warrior takes in a breath. Holds it. Svarshan looks across to Zeke, at the gobber's prodding. "You are not turned away, sshaman. Others have come to us, with sscars as great. When you have plasse and family. Sslowly. You find your feet. There is always room at our Fire," he says, and then looks to the gobber, briefly: shared: but Zeke may not have the strength to, not yet. So, quietly, "Even if he does not come. Home. Working /here/ is. Like acting as caste. It will give him. Place. If not the rest." Somehow the so-sad sith manages to look embarrassed. He looks away from Svarshan. In his heart he knows that Svarshan is right. That this place, that being a healer has filled some part of him long denied. It hasn't fixed his problems; certainly not all of them by any means. Yet it has been a beginning. He is not... strong enough yet. Zeke nods once, an acknowledgement of what he knows is true. The People have always been there, like a bright shining light that he does not know how to reach. "Thisss one isss grateful of your wordsss hunter-caste. You were right. You have made thisss a ssafe plasce. Thisss one hasss been foolissh to think it dangerousss. To think Ascedia dangerousss."

He bows his head in apology to them both. "Thisss one iss sssorry again. Thisss one will try harder to be..." To be.

The Gobbo reaches up to take one of Svarshan's hands into her own, and squeezes. And smiles. "Thank you." She lets go and moves towards Zeke. Stopping a comfortable distance away and sitting upon the ground. "I am sorry for the trouble I have caused. I am a rude little Goblin. But... If you go, I go. If you stay, I stay. Deal?"

"A ssecret. ...he could not leave here as long as. It needs him. His heart will not let him. ...this is how much we are driven by. Caste," Svarshan says. He leans down, his words for the gobber's great ears alone. He then looks up to the other scaled, and thumps his tail. Rises, straightening as much as the slope-frame of his people will allow. "Perhaps in temper," he responds warmly to the other scaled. Another thump of tail, and a look to Acedia--to show he's pulling her tail. Maybe. And, he does not seem to mind the hand-squeeze. The warrior seems...somewhat rock-like. Comfortable.

This too calms him. That she is sitting down, that there's no one watching now but them that are talking. The world passes them by and he slowly becomes less hunched over. More certain of himself and the choice he's made. He bobs his head to Acedia. "Thisss onne will sstay." He knows that this means she will stay also. "It isss a deal." He bobs his head to Svarshan. "Thisss one owess you thanksss, and perhapssss... wordsss. Thiss one hasss been told to sspeak with you. Perhapss thosse that have sssaid ssuch thingss are right. You are wisse hunter-casste."

Acedia keeps her eyes low. "Am I forgiven?", she asks quietly of Zeke, before looking at Svarshan. "Maybe my temper is a bit much.", she offers softly. The Gobbo slowly stands. "Do you sleep here now, Zeke, or do you go to the Temple?"

"...my oldest friend. Has a great temper," Svarshan replies low-voiced and warm, and a thump-side of the tail. The equivalent of a shrug. "Warrior-caste." ...then, as though that one word explained the world. And perhaps, for him, it does.

He looks to the two of them, quiet a while. "...this one sshould sshare words. With other warriors. To enssure--" he says, and waves his claws towards the rest of the room. Protect.

Zeke nods to Acedia. "Yesss. Come, there isss work to do." He waves to Svarshan, certain that they will have words soon. For now there are people to heal; those that need his aid. Need both of their aid.

-End