The Dark Remains Dark

Log Info

• Title: The Dark Remains Dark

• Emitter: Harkashan

• Characters: Harkashan, Aelwyn, Skielstregar

• Place: Wuja Docar, Am'shere

• Summary: Aelwyn meets some of Harkashan's family, and Skielstregar shares some words with them.

On the road back from Prion Prison, Harkashan insisted on going past his parents' community. After all, they were at risk as well if this all got worse. Luckily, it isn't too much out of the way from their travels, and allows them a place to rest for the night in safety.

The village is quiet, aside from the constant calls of the animals beyond its walls. The looming massive volcano that changed the landscape around the village itself looms over it - protecting it.

Harkashan has already gone to sleep, having had a lot to deal with after talking with his parents. But there are always some in these communities that do not sleep so easily.

Kyfe, the more serpentine black scaled one is on watch at the walls, staring out. But this time, she is not alone. The enormous bulk that is the warrior-leader of the community is standing watch with her. Inhelk, the 8'2" father of Harkashan, is staring out from a small post at the edge of the wall. Watchful for any sounds or presence that may threaten his kin.

There would have been little complaints from the short and ruddy sith-makar about taking a detour - when one travels, it is the constant flow of sights that keeps one walking. And having something else to think about sounded a completely refreshing concept.

Still, one does not sleep easy in the wake of that lava filled nightmare.

With his beribboned glaive over his shoulder, he spent his time looking for a convenient spot to practise; but inevitably, he finds himself staring at the excessively and needlessly large makari. "The dark remains dark?" He asks, flashing his teeth.

It was a wish at this point to get any sleep. Skielstregar couldn't find any rest as the experiences of Prion Prison were a looping mess in his head.

So the silverscale ambles out into village, bereft of anything save for a modest pair of brown pants, the nasty, grey death-scar on his chest on display. He shifts his attention to the gate, half expecting his sparring partner to be there, but instead it was Inhelk and- right. He needs to speak with Kyfe. At least Aelwyn was still his chipper self.

Skiel joins the trio, offering an honest yet tired greeting, "Peace on your nest."

"The dark remains dark, and very much alive." Inhelk answers. His heavy voice feeling like it could make the ground tremble. His head slowly turning to look at the small ruddy Sith-makar. His colorations are almost the inversion of Harkashan. Largely black, with red highlights here and there.

He sizes Aelwyn up for a bit, considering him, before looking back out to the forest itself.

When Skiel approaches, Kyfe remarks; "Peaccce upon yourrrr nessst." With that serpentine lisp, not even facing him. Having noticed his approach before he made himself known.

"Peace upon your nest, Warrior." Inhelk chimes in just a bit later.

Kyfe finally turns, looking to Skielstregar. Taking a moment of time to look at him, her tongue flitting out now and again, until she decides; "Do you require ssssleeping-grasssss?"

"Are not all nights the activity that sun merely prepares for?" Aelwyn does not mind being sized up - he even flexes up his short body, making sure his agile body flexes just so. Especially with a bow of his head towards Kyfe.

Then the shiny mound of scales approaches, and he bows his head. "Silver," He greets. "Or does one require a blade to kiss?" Twirl twirl the smouldering glaive.

Skielstregar can't help but quietly chuckle at the darkness. "Sssa. As long as the dark stays dark, we haven't any worries," he says in his native tongue. He looks at Aelwyn, bowing his head before shaking it at both Kyfe and Aelwyn, especially the latter's antics. "No, sleeping grass is not needed, nor blade cuddling. Perhaps just night air."

He looks between the three of them before clearing his throat. "Have you three had the pleasure of meeting? This is Dragoon Aelwyn. Aelwyn, this is Warrior Inhelk-" he gestures to broadly to the massive redscale- "-and Warrior Kyfe-" the hand falls to the serpentine blackscale.

Inhelk considers Aelwyn when he flexes, before he turns away. Inhelk is a bit hard to read at times. What he thinks of the small one is hard to figure out. "Perhaps." He answers. Inhelk is a man of few words most of the time.

"There is plenty of air to be found within the jungles of our home." Kyfe remarks to Skielstregar a moment later.

At Skiel introducing Aelwyn though, Inhelk turns to look at the small one once more. "So, this is the one who wishes to ride a dragon?"

Tough crowd. Aelwyn leans back on his foot and clicks his tongue; but at least Silver was there. "Tch, night air only helps those who fill the air with ambition." The draconian rumbles, before he moves to lightly tap the silver scaled makari's ankles with his tail.

At the introductions, he bows his head. "Dark, Serpent." He greets in turn, before he straightens with a somewhat surprised look on his face. It melts into a grin soon. "The word travels, this one sees. What can one except from a singer of death, this one supposes?" He bows his head more deeply. "As a Dragoon, this one finds it his duty and ambition."

Skielstregar regards Inhelk momentarily, no entirely sure how to parse that answer. But he turns to Kyfe, a rumble churning in his chest. "Certainly. A lot of it. Though this one wouldn't mind the frigid air of winter back at the softskin lands."

He watches curiously at Inhelk's question, his large tail swaying back to thwack Aelwyn's tail in usual retort. A smile flits across his fanged visage. "This one thinks Aelwyn may have the scales to pull it off one day."

"Hrrm, yes. My son spoke highly of you and your ambitions." Inhelk answers, as he leans down a bit. Putting those massive arms on the edge of the wall and peering out deeper into the darkness. He doesn't turn to face Aelwyn. Something else seems to be on his mind.

"He seems to surround himself with strong warriors." His voice trails.

Kyfe chimes in; "He just hopes it is enough for the coming storm." She expresses. "He looked at the map you guys brought back. One of those places are in an active conflict with a large group of Charnites at the moment." She looks to Skielstregar.

"It may even be too much for this one to handle." She looks to Skiel. "The Charn have been constantly sieging it."

"You may /need/ a Dragon." Inhelk rumbles. "But have not the time to train to ride one."

"This one is taken," The Dragoon replies, with a flash of his teeth aimed at Skielstregar. Then at Kyfe. No? He takes in a deep breath and lets it out in a exhale. "This one likes to talk of his needs, but in this case it is not a matter of a need."

Clicking his teeth then, he tilts his head towards the side curiously. The ribbons flip over towards the side. "This one knows how to ride," He says, defensively. He in fact, knows how to ride a horse outside the stable. "But this one understands the time slips like the sand, each grain impossible to hold."

Turning his head towards Kyfe, "Is this where the war council is?"

Skiel sighs, a small cloud of frozen air rolling out of his nose as he crosses his arms. "Whatever storm is to come, this one will be there to stop these Charnites. Now not out of just the Dragonfather's will. But personal. They are the ones that did this to them." A raps a knuckle against one of the unnatural fangs. "Worry not, Warrior Inhelk. The dragon we need is the dragon within us." He pats the large makari's arm, Skiel one of the few that is tall enough to reach.

He gives a raise of a scaled brow to Aelwyn. "In time, wants can be met," he tries to reassure Aelwyn. "This one thinks there may not be time for a proper council, unfortunately."

Dead silver eyes spy Kyfe's glances. "... mmm. Warrior Kyfe. We need share words," he says stepping towards the blackscale.

"Softskin weak horse-mounts, or even our Swiftclaws compared to a dragon are unlike matters, in their entirety." Inhelk answers Aelwyn at the notion of Aelwyn knowing how to ride.

Kyfe shakes her head. "It's just a community." She answers Aelwyn in answer to matters of a war council, before glancing at Skielstregar as he reaches out to Inhelk.

The massive man does not retreat his arm. But he does turn to look down towards Skielstregar when he touches him. The cold unnatural feeling of Skielstregar almost violent against the heat of this man.

"Hrrrm..." Inhelk answers Skielstregar, then turns to look back out to the world beyond.

"You can speak your words." Kyfe then answers Skielstregar.

It was not a notion. It was the truth! "Hmmh, this one shall see the truth as it is given by the skies, this one is certain." Meanwhile, he flashes his teeth, moves to tap Skielstregar on the tip of his tail with his own. Atta boy.

"This one feels that the matters of dragons are close to the family," The ruddy sith then points out to the large hulking scales of dark. "Is Dark perhaps, driven by one as well?"

It's cold. It's stiff. Unnatural. But there's warmth in Skiel's expression and air. "It takes a certain amount of flair to ride a dragon, this one must admit, unlike horses and swiftclaws," he chuckles, nodding towards Aelwyn. "We'll see if the sky dumps them or not." Skiel gives a closed eye smiel at that quip.

He retreats the hand, patting it against his leg to get the chill back into it as he drifts towards Kyfe, casting a glance to Aelwyn about the talk of dragons. It wasn't his place to say anything, so his attention goes to his words. He holds the shade-touched Warrior gaze before rolling his shoulders. "This one must apologize. They do not wish to bring false hope for the past. To sow doubt. This one was, and still is to some extent, what our kin fears. But... this one died." He touches the nasty scar on his chest. "Died while being /that/. They do not know how they live, but it is of the Dragonfather's and Death Singing Dragon's intervention that they woke back up in the aftermath. Memories tattered and forgotten. They were not this silver, they were tarnished. The hunger and madness was just an arm's length away. This one is an outlier. This one is an exception."

He inhales after all of that. "So. If you have any questions, or... requests for insight. This one is open to share."

Inhelk glances to Aelwyn for a moment again, when talk of dragons are aimed at Inhelk. Skielstregar may remember why that topic is a bit... sensitive for Inhelk. "I am not driven by a Dragon. But I am bound by history of a promise to one." He answers Aelwyn in rather vague terms. There's a sense of lamentation and guilty as he states this.

Kyfe crosses her arms as Skielstregar begins to speak. Explaining his situation. Explaining his history and where he comes from. She is, surprisingly, easier to read than Inhelk for a Sith-makar. Her tail twitching. Lithe body adjusting as he speaks of madness and hope.

But just as he starts to ask for questions, she raises her hand and stops him. "Ssssstop. You do not have the ansssswerssss yoursssself. And ssssometimesss, it is bessst not to know. You arrrre an anomaly. That isss what musssst be known. But you are a friend to Harkasssshan. From hissss word, Brother to the Deathsinger. Ssssso, you are family." It seems like it is that simple.

Aelwyn tilts his head once more. "Hmm." Is he all that he suffices to say. There was enough gloom in the night for him to try and dredge up past ghosts.

Speaking of ghosts, the Dragoon glances over where Skielstregar was; and sliding a bit closer, he moves to tap the other's tail once more. "Be a good brother, Silver, lest the heat be led astray." Another flash of his teeth, before he bows his head towards the rest of the group. "This one shall find a fire to sing with." He turns around and starts heading off towards the dark of the night.

Skiel respectfully bows his head towards Inhelk. He understood the sensitivity. And it was not his place to speak of any of it without any graces. But he watches Kyfe. His tail hanging low, hands and arms spread low and wide. Showing vulnerability.

However, it does not stop his stymied expression, maw clacking shut at the hand being raised at him. What breaks him out of the freeze is a tap-tap on his tail. "This one- ah, uh, yes. This one will do what they can for their Brother," he stumbles in that bumbling awkward manner of typically finds himself in. "Peace on your nest, Aelwyn. Please do not sit too long in fires."

He turns back to Kyfe. Stares for a little bit before- he just breaks out into a full bellied laughter. "And here this one was ready to lay every little thing out to justify their existence," he grins. The terrors of the Prison abating just a tinge. "Very well. They'll keep their secrets," he finishes with a teasing twinge.

"You are Sith-makar. You are a Warrior. And you are of family. You do not owe anyone a justification for your existance." Inhelk answers Skielstregar without looking at him. "If you are a danger, then the danger will be dealt with. If you are friend, then you will be treated as a friend." He remarks, shifting his arms a bit more. Adjusting his tail.

"There are those who will see sorrow and their past in you." Kyfe adds to this. "There are those who will hate what you represent. But you do not owe them anything." It seems that Kyfe and her father, while very unlike in many things, still think similarly on other matters.

"Do what you can to protect your Kin and Community. Protect your caste. Live in the moment, Warrior. Do not become like the softskins and allow yourself to live in the past." Kyfe tries to impress on Skielstregar.

Aelwyn has left.

Skielstregar shakes his head, a rumbling chuckle in his chest. "This one would expect nothing less from kin," he agrees with Inhelk's remarks, tail thumping against the ground. But the hidden words underneath brought to light from Kyfe gets him to bow his head. "This one understands, Warrior Kyfe. This one has accepted this straddled position between kin and outcast."

He gives Kyfe a little squint, him hazarding reaching out to plop a deathly cold hand on her shoulder. "This one does, every day, to live in the now." His maw cracks open to a grin. "Besides- this one is learning that what we call Kin is changing. Give the softskins some credit. You would be surprised that we and them are both different in many ways yet oh so similar in others."

Kyfe allows Skielstregar to reach out. And when he touches her, he may notice... she feels cold. Cold in the same that Rune feels cold sometimes. Looking at him, right in the eyes with those almost mesmerizing eyes of hers when he touches her like that. Raising a hand and laying it onto his.

"The softskins we interact with, are traders, and Charnites." Kyfe answers Skielstregar, and then taps the back of his wrist to signal releasing her for the time being.

"So we understand that some are similar, yet some are different." She promises to him.

Something Inhelk rumbles at. "The girl at his side..."

"Rune." Kyfe reminds him.

"I know her name." Inhelk rumbles. "She is very alike to us."

Kyfe notes; "That means he likes her."

The absence of heat is noted, a silver scaled brow ticking up faintly as Skiel's gaze drops into mesmerizing eyes. He's drawn- briefly- before forcing himself to look elsewhere. Too many mind magics recently. His hand pulls off at the signal. "Sssa. Some are quite respectful and wish to learn our ways. And us, theirs."

Dead eyes flick to Inhelk. Kyfe. Inhelk. Kyfe. His throat bobs and nods along to Kyfe. "Mm... good. This one considers Warrior Rune kin," he says slowly. "She is very good at our dances and rituals."

Kyfe nods her head, and steps back and away from Skielstregar, before slithering a bit up the wall again and danging one leg over it. Sitting sideways on it and watching the outside.

"Ocuir ssssayssss there is much danger to you and your alliessss in the near future." She suddenly comments.

"Pleasssse look out for yoursssself, and your kin, Warrior." Kyfe remarks, before making a hand motion. "You musssst resssssst."

Skielstregar's tail sways wide as it seems like things went are going well. He hazards a peer over the wall, him getting on his tiptoes briefly to look out into the jungles beyond. His brows knit. "This one will heed Ocuir's warning and will do everything they can to keep themselves and others safe."

He squints into the darkness. "They will regret their atrocities tenfold," he growls, grip on the wall tensing. The faint sense of dread wafts from him, a drop of familiar black ichor dropping to the ground and vanishing in a waft.

He steps back, turning towards the village. "This one will. Thank you two for the words." A thought crosses him, and he looks up to Inhelk. "You are no longer alone in this. The Warriors brought here is just the tip of the spear. Warriors, Shamans, Lore-Keepers, Hunters. They may not be kin. They not know our ways. But they know what is right. They strived to defend Mictlan- holy dragon site in softskin lands- from undeath. They can strive to end this atrocity."

He smiles, thumps his tail hard on the ground, and thuds off towards sleeping arrangements. "Peace on your nests, Warriors."

-End Scene-