Am I Kin

Log Info

• Title: Am I Kin
  
• Characters: Harkashan, Eztli
  
• Location: Mictlan
  
• Summary: Harkashan and Eztli speak on the secret behind her 'voice' within a previous Telepathic connection.

With the constant movements between Alexandria and Am'shere - and the amount of times that somehow he keeps getting teleported back to Alexandria - Harkashan has been spending a lot more of his time around Mictlan. Especially with word of further projects to expand the purposes of Mictlan.

Right now, he's just coming back from gathering a bunch of herbs in the area. Things to trade at Am'shere for the Festival of Flowers. He looks like he's largely readied up in travel gear, and is adjusting the straps of his Swiftclaw in order to ensure it has a more comfortable ride.

He then looks around for a moment, like he's forgotten something. Kind of... zoning out for a moment. The kind of look people who travel with Harkashan have seen from time to time in sync with those markings on his body glowing ever so slightly.

Eztli was not a prominent fixture in Mictlan by any sense of the word, but she was not a complete stranger to the gathering area, having been seen around shaman Un'eth and Skielstregar, on occasions, and not turning down any chances for discussion

This day however found the small makari making one of their infrequent trips out to the village, though it was hard to tell at first glance. it almost looked like a deer was bobbing along through the forest, at least until it was clear that it was bled, not to mention the head and part of the front was charred black. Reaching one of the entrances to Mictlan, the small makari peeks out from under the load, and spies Harkashan, offering the cleric a wave. "Heya Hark, how's it going?" They greet cheerfully. "Someone trying to tell you something?"

It takes just a moment when he is addressed. A blink of those eyes. A moment where it seems like flames ripple from his maw before the Sith-makar's head tilts down... and down... and further down, until he can see past the felled body of a deer and onto the face of the small thing below it.

"Shaman Eztli - Peace upon your nest." He answers them for a moment, "Sorry, I did not recognize your voice for a moment." The Sith-makar apologizes for a moment, before nodding his head; "Yes. Though... I am unsure if it is 'telling', and more like... asking one to experience." His brow furrows in thought at this terminology, then puts down the bag he was holding this whole time and puts it on the floor.

"Do you require aid in carrying?" He then asks.

"Oh, right! Peace on your nest, shaman Harkashan, sorry, forgot to mention that." The small makari apologizes once she's able to crane her head up, so Harkashan didn't need to look down so much.

"Ah, well, I guess that makes more sense, memories from outside aren't usually sentient in that way." Eztli nods, tilting her head just a bit. "We've been through enough that I'd hope you recognize me, or is that outside force distracting you?" She wonders, hefting the deer again. "I wouldn't mind help if you're offering, the less it drags on the ground, the better, after all."

"It is nothing to apologize over." Harkashan rumbles, seeming confused that Eztli makes such a statement. Slowly blinking.

He then lowers his head. "Minor distraction. But it can make some memories stronger than others." Harkashan explains. "When we were telepathically connected a while ago, your voice sounded different. But, being a mind's connection, it's a memory that translated that such must be your true voice." He touches his chest as he explains this a bit, before touching himself with a bit of magic to raise his ability to carry...

And then lifts the deer and draws it over his shoulder with a lot less trouble than might otherwise be expected.

"Where are we taking this?" He asks.

"Well, if you say it's a minor distraction, I'll take your word for it. As long as it's not causing you any trouble." The small makari nods, only to freeze up on the spot, even while the deer was taken. The small makari blinks several times, before she comes to her senses.

"This is my voice, and this is me!" They chuckle unconvincingly. "I'm not sure where to take ut, where do the hunters take things they well, hunt?"

GAME: Harkashan rolls Sense Motive+2: (17)+19+2: 38

Harkashan looks down at the small little Makari as she freezes, considering those many blinking responses from her. He sees right through her of course. A Sith-makar's memory does not play tricks.

He swishes his tail a bit, and swats it on the ground, but then adjusts his shoulder under the deer and rumbles; "Apologies. I did not mean to stir painful thoughts." As a way to let he know he knows she's lying, but that he will not pry if she means to hide this side of her.

He then motions in the directions of the butchers' and remarks; "The Hunters oft are the ones in charge of hunting, as well as the butchering. One need but follow the scent of food." He explains as he begins to approach a different side of Mictlan.

Eztli sighs, and the small makari shakes her head. "No, it's alright." They admit after a moment, the thump against the ground shaking them out of whatever moment they were in. "My past is pretty painful, but now is alright, I guess." She agrees.

"I guess the hunters would be in charge of managing hunted food, it makes sense. I don't know where that is, but thank you for showing me the way."

Harkashan tilts his head as she admits something there. A painful past. Harkashan leads her quietly to the Hunters. It's not the first time he's picked up on strangeness around her. It reminds him of Aelwyn a bit. Such unfamiliarity with their customs. And those two are not the only ones.

He follows the 'smell' to the side where people are communally cooking. There's spits and broths and stews being made in a communal manner. People donating food, spices, and other things. And the ones overseeing the cooking combining those things in ways that would taste good.

Harkashan helps pass on the deer, and rumbles; "This Shaman slew this deer and brings it to you." Followed by the Hunter at the station making for a bow to Eztli. "Thank you Shaman. This one thanksss you."

It's clear Harkashan is dealing with this first, but he intends to talk to her about her past soon when they're more clear from others.

Once the small makari manages to catch the smell, she's quick to follow behind to the area in question. Good food had a way of lifting one's spirits, and Eztlis's tail swayed behind them for some time. At least, until they reached the cooking area.

"Oh, you're very welcome, Hunter." They reply with a touch of uncertainty. "I'm sorry some of the front is unusable, I didn't have anything else to catch it with."

"Thank you for helping to carry it, Harkashan." She adds with a nod and smile to the shaman.

"Do not worry." The Hunter answers. "There is plenty of usable meat on this one." They bid to her, before nodding at the two of them.

Harkashan uses that moment to turn and bid him a fair evening, and motions for Eztli to follow. He finds a more secluded spot near his Swiftclaw, and settles down on one of the stones gathered near a small fire.

"Do you wish to tell your tale?" He then asks her, offering a shift of his hands to suggest he could always cast Telepathy once more to hide their voices.

"Okay! That's good at least. Thank you for taking care of it, I hope it helps." Eztli nods back, before rather quickly following along with Harkashan, and flopping on to ont of the rocks.

"Please, no telepathy, at least not now. I don't mind if you need it while working, though." She waves away, recognizing some of the movements. The small makari taps one of their horns, and sighs. "I guess I should tell you, Harkashan, but I just want to ask first, am I one of the people, like they say?" She asks, more directed at the fire, which flickers over the various brass scales of the sorceress.

"You are a Shaman." Harkashan answers Eztli. "And you are Kin. So, you are of the People." To him, it is such a simple matter. "Even if you do not come from Am'shere. You are as much of the people as Aelwyn is." He rumbles, showing his knowledge of some of Aelwyn's heritage as well.

"Caste is oft most important to our people. As long as you move amongst them and protect them like they are your own, they you are of theirs." Harkashan furthers. "And you have protected me and mine many times." He adds to that qualification.

He tilts his head as he finishes speaking these words, before asking; "Do you wish to foster a deeper bond with the Sith-makar of the eggland?"

Eztli turns to Harkashan and listens, for quite some time. The small makari's tail was still, and finally, she nods. "I want to understand myself, and understand the makari as a whole." She answers a bit vaguely.

"Of course, I'm happy to help my friends and allies. And all the makari I met here seem like good people." She nods, glancing back to the fire. "But what if I'm not kin?" She asks then.

He tilts his head. "You mean to say, you are not Sith-makar, though you look and seem like one?" Harkashan asks Eztli with a tilt of his head. "Perhaps, kobold in disguise?" He rumbles warmly, closing his eyes for a moment, and then opening them again. Giving her a chance to explain.

Eztli says, “No, not a kobold, I've met some, and I don't think I look too much like them." She answers quickly with a fair bit of certainty, only for it to cumble away just as quickly. "I'm, I don't know. I think I'm a sith-makar."

The small makari reaches to poke at the fire with one finger, completely unphased as the flames envelop it for a moment. "You know Rune better than I do. I was wondering if she was always a half elf, since she has a lot of quirks like a sith-makar might have, but that might be learned." She begins to explain. "The reason being, well, I um, I died." She finishes flatly. "I used to be an elf, is what I mean."”

Harkashan rumbles, lowering his head when Eztli is not, in fact, a kobold. Just a very small Sith-makar. He's listening, patiently, and without judgment.

Watching her toy with the flames. A nod of understanding when she speaks of Rune - and whether or not she was always a half-elf. But when she explains that she died and used to be an elf, there's a crease of his lips.

"I know of this magic. Resurrection, but reborn as something else, yes?" He asks of Eztli. "Rune has, as far as I am aware, always been an half-elf. But she finds more comfort in the structure of the Sith-makar. A place where she can find family more easily." He explains. "At least, that is what I think she finds here. It would be best to ask her if you wish to know for certain." He remarks.

"Do you find more comfort amongst our Kin?"

"I don't know for certain, but I think it's something like that." Eztli answers, accompanied by a long shudder. "I try not to think about that too much. Dying, and coming back. I don't know if it was someone who passed by, or some latent magic of my own, but I came back like this. The circumstances weren't-, well, it wasn't a peaceful death. I'm from dragonier, the place that got overrun by undead."

Eztli nods once at the explanation. "Ah, I just thought her situation might have been similar to mine. But I'm glad she is comfortable here, and comfortable with you." The small makari replies, with just a hint of a less dour tone returning. "I'm not sure, though. It hasn't been that long, and I'm still finding myself. I don't know if I'm more comfortable among them or not."

"Death is... rarely peaceful in these times." Harkashan rumbles. There aren't many of his own people who make it to their eldest of ages without trouble. When she mentions Dragonier, he quiets a bit. He's not as familiar with that place. But as a Deathsinger, a place that is overrun by undead does raise his bristles a bit. Or in this case, makes his tail splat against the ground a bit.

"Well, take your time finding out. I've found that such spells, granted by the Gods, oft alter one's perception and understanding of the world. They do not perform such miracles without reason." He remarks, motioning one hand a bit. He's leaving the topic of Rune stand for now, but he did smile a bit when she mentioned Rune's comfort around him as well.

"Certainly, many Sith-makar might be jealous of your Dragon's Breath. And I will not presume a notion that there are not some Sith-makar who might not count you as 'true kin'. But many others welcome Rune as if they were Kin... and she has a few less scales than your average Sith-makar. To be Kin is more than one's Birthright, I think."

"Yes, it has been hard, getting used to everything. Being well, different to so many other races, but not entirely." The small makari nods slowly, chuckling just a bit. "You see things so differently, you smell things differently, you well, you have a tail, and scales, and everything else."

"That may be true I guess, but I want to accept what I am now. It felt so isolating ending up like this, I never even saw a sith-makar before being one myself. But if Rune can be welcome, if shaman Un'eth is welcome, I guess I could find a place too, right?"

Harkashan nods his head once more. "I cannot say I understand what it is like..." Squint. Think. "Standing in your sandals." Was it sandals? It was some kind of footwear. "But..." He shifts his body a bit...

And a set of wings suddenly burst out. Half scaled, half feather-like. Strange almost alien like wings, neither angelic nor draconic. Like something in between. He shifts them a bit, motioning them.

"But I can at least reach a minor understanding thanks to certain magics that have affected my throughout the years." He explains, as his wings move down to lay over his shoulders. Gleaming and glowing a bit within the sun.

"Have confidence. There are other Sith-makar who feel isolated and alien of their brood. Ones captured at young age by Charnites, such as Skielstregar. Those who come from different lands, such as Aelwyn. You are not alone. But if you put in the work, and live the life of Kin, others will recognize you more easily. And you will come to recognize yourself." He offers. "You have a place here. You need not 'find' a place."

"Shoes. Unless you're talking about my sandals." The small makari chuckles, raising one of her feet wrapped in the caligae-like straps and padding. "Not what you're talking about, though."

Only to be caught off guard by the wings that appeared. Eztli's eyes went a bit wide.

"Oh, those are incredible! Are the feathers supposed to be angelic, or are they makari? I don't know if I've seen any with feathers. Wings would take a lot of getting used to, I've been, I've done that before. Doesn't last long enough to do anything, but, enough to feel what that's like." The small makari enthuses, only to quiet down. "I didn't know what I was when I came back, I thought I was a monster or something. Un'eth helped me to feel welcome, and so did so many of my friends in Alexandria. I don't know if I could ever live entirely in a place like this, but it feels like a part of me, and I don't want to feel isolated, again."

The sorceress looks up, and hugs the shaman, before leaning back on the rock they were sitting on. "Thanks for making me feel welcome."

The Sith-makar are an affectionate sort. Or at least, they are very comfortable just being around one-another. So when Eztli gets all entheusiastic, Harkashan just smiles comfortably.

"Hrrrm, I think it's a mixing of what lies within me, and the Death Singing Dragon's touch." He explains, flexing this wings a bit so she can get a better look.

At her leaning forward, he lays his wing around her and hugs her right on back, touching tails.

"Gladly." He answers her.

"Right, I still need to talk to Rune about that, but I do understand that a bit. Always had a bit of dragon blood in me." The small makari muses, watching the wings for a moment, and nodding. "At least in my experience with such things, it's best not to push back too much. Accept things, get used to them, and understand them better as you go."

A long pause, and another laugh as she taps the tail back. "I just wish I saw things a bit clearer so I could have applied my own advice to other matters with myself." She continues laughing. "I hope I haven't kept you too long, but I appreciate it. You're, can I call you a friend, Harkashan? Because if I can, you're a good friend."

Harkashan rumbles a bemused sound; "I was already calling you friend." He answers Eztli as he begins to stand up, letting the wings disappear along with his hold on his magics for a moment. Letting them fade into the ether.

"I learned not to push back. But there is much to explore still about my... gifts, and my connection with the one known as Thirku." He then expresses to her. He then motions to his Swiftclaw.

"Either way, I shall depart now. You are welcome to travel along if you so wish." He offers.

"Well, good! I already figured, but I wanted to be certain. Sometimes it's hard to tell with people you go on adventures with often." Eztli nods, stretching out and getting to her feet, offering a hand that likely wouldn't get Harkashan that much farther up. "You'll figure it out, I'm sure. Just wish I could be more help with Thirku, but you're probably learning what you need to know."

"I wanted to drop off the food I caught, but I was planning on heading out anyways. Can your swiftclaw hold two people? I'm sure that I won't add on that much extra weight, anyways."

"I'm sure I could always use a hand." Harkashan answers Eztli, before motioning his hand towards the Hunters for dropping off any other food. "My Swiftclaw could carry you, I'm sure." He rumbles, and touches his hands behind his back. He will wait.

"Well, let me know if you ever need help with anything." The small makari smiles. "There's, well there's not a lot of us left, but Dragonier used to know a lot about dragon blood. So anything I can share, well it's better if the information isn't just gone forever, you know?"

Eztli looks at the swiftclaw, and patting it once on the flank before climbing up on top, a matter which was a bit undignified given their size. "Sorry about that, but thanks for putting up with me." She chuckles to the steed before she gives Harkashan a nod. "Ready to go!"