Blood, Pain and Undeath

The TarRaCe Bathouse - Evening

It's early in the night where the dining room next door is a bustling with patrons, to-go orders and dine ins taking much of the staff's attention. Spring has the place slammed.

Even the bathhouse itself sees more patrons than usual, the public pool in the center awash (pun intended). Most folk congregate in their cliques, but said cliques close as another figure slooowly enters the waters. A massive silver scaled sith-makar, clad in simple pants and a shirt, treads carefully to not scratch the flooring before lowers himself.

The water level noticeably rises, sloshing out of the pool to get recaptures in the drains. He murmurs some apologies, waving a scarred arm to allay worries in his little corner.

Which, said little corner becomes its own little sheet of ice on the surface.

The Goblin appears from the lady's side, having arrived in furs, and now resplendent in a one-piece, black bathing suit. She eyes the crowd in the main pool, frowning ever so slightly. A floating mosh-pit, as far as little people go. Her grin returns as she cannot help but notice Skiel, alone in a crowd. Her bare feet make no sound as she sneaks up behind him. But surprising him is not her intent, as she puts a bare foot down on the little sheet of ice. She keeps most of her weight over the floor, but tests with just enough to see how much that ice can take.

That little layer of ice is akin to the top of a frosted mug of ale. It breaks easily, a piece drifting off, only to melt away from the warm waters.

Skielstregar contently rumbles, vibrating and breaking the ice as he shifts some to sink further in- up to his neck. He samples the air, glances around at the crowd as there was some hint of familiarity, but simply shrugs it off and closes his eyes. Murder was, after all, directly behind him.

Murder seems disappointed that the ice is so flimsy, and sneaks away. "Skiel!", she calls, returning to sit on the edge of the pool near him, and dunk her feet in. A soft sigh escapes her. Who doesn't like warm water?#r

The closer one was to him in the waters, the less warmth the pool provided. Skiel opens his eyes once more. Blinks. "Ah. Warrior Murder. Thisss one thought they smelled someone familiar, but there isss many scentsss here, ssso they were not sssure," he smiles- as one can with wicked, unnatural teeth. "Peassse on your nessst. How isss?"

She slips into the water then, to lay back and float there next to Skielstregar. "You don't have to be formal with me, Skiel, just call me Murder. Or Mur, even, if that's easier. Erm... I am not upsetting you by calling you Skiel, am I?"

Her hands wiggle back and forth beside her, as she works to keep herself in his general vicinity. Murder lowers her voice. "I'm doing alright. I've not run into any uhm, you know, the ones running around, killing game? Also heard a few things on what's happening."

Skiel shakes his head. "No, thisss one isss not being formal, thisss one givesss titlesss to thossse they ressspect," he explains, him gesticulating. Water freezes on his scales, but melts quickly in the warm air, making tiny bits of ice get flung about. "Thisss one prefersss to be called what isss easssiest. Thisss one knowsss their name isss hard on sssoftskinss tongue."

He tilts his head to the side. "Oh? Thisss one isss glad to hear you are doing well, but what isss it that you have heard? Thisss one hasss not found any other prey lurking about. Thisss one thinksss they have dispersssed."

The Gobbo moves closer, floating over his lap, allowing her to lower her voice further. An odd expression is present on her face momentarily. "You give me a title because you respect me?" A hand pats his shoulder lightly. "I'd like to know how I managed that.", she says with a laugh. "Not a reaction I get, usually. I'm uh what they call a little shit." Murder spins around in a circle, grinning up at him. "You may be right on that, them having dispersed. Tlanexhuani hasn't encountered any, nor Harkashan, last I heard from them. Loads of dead game, though."

Skiel glances down without moving, a brow quirking. "Thisss one triesss to ressspect many people, they only give what they think fitsss in title," he answers. "Thisss one doesss not think you are asss sssuch."

He bobs his head. "Sssa. That sssounds correct. Some dead game, but no prey. Thisss one thinksss they will starve themssselvesss out or get lossst in the woodsss without seeking aid from the Sky Dancing Dragon."

"Well, kind of a lot of dead game. I would be panicked, if it weren't for the fact that Alexandria grows lots of her own food." She floats a bit closer, to lightly prod his chest with a finger. "Your cold is pretty interesting in this warm water. Are you enjoying the heat?" Murder grins. "I think you are a fine warrior, and person. You had my respect back when your scales weren't as shiny."

Skiel bobs his head. "Sssa. Alexandria farm land issss vassst, and our hunting grounds for Mictlan and the Grove are large and protected. Thisss one helps with quite a lot of the protec-"

The large makari stops in a freeze. The tunic presses against his chest, a marring of grey showing through the fabric on his sternum. Only briefly, as he grabs her wrist with two fingers. "Do not. Touch there," he rumbles firmly, but quiet. Skiel lets that hang there for a moment before releasing the arm.

"Thisss one apologizes," he sighs, shaking his head. "They are glad they held your respect, but yesss, the warm waters are nice."

The hand is quickly retracted once released. "Sorry!", she says quickly, floating a little further away. "You don't need to apologize to me, you're well within your right to growl at me." Murder nods, "Yes, the farmlands, and the cattle.", she says softly. "The meat that the city runs on.".

Skiel is quiet for a moment. "Cease the cowering, Warrior Murder, it isss unbefitting upon you," he sighs, the previous topic abandoned for now. "Thisss one merely doesss not like it when othersss touch their chessst. It isss... where thisss one wasss slain once before."

"I knew that and yet I carelessly poked you there." She nods slightly, a momentary expression of sadness on her face. "That would explain the reaction."

She lays her head back, her hair spreading out in the water. "How are things going in Mictlan? I carried some wood there a while ago, and I donated a rabbit to the pot at the fire. Feels like it's nothing but a drop in the bucket. Not sure what more I can do."

Skielstregar quirks a brow. "How could you know? Thisss one goesss through much effort to conceal and protect what isss clearly thisss one's weak spot," he asks.

He stares for a beat. "Warrior Murder. You are not in trouble. Thisss one isss not a Ssspeaker but they can tell when sssomeone isss deflecting. Though, every little bit helpsss in Mictlan."

The Goblin submerges, bumping Skiel's leg as she returns to the surface. She rubs at the bald part of her head. "I don't like hurting my friends, that's all. I've suffered that, and I do not wish it visited upon you. Even if accidental." She moves to stand beside him, her chin barely out of the water. "Will take more food to them. Maybe my strength can be put to some use there."

Skielstregar bumps Murder back with his leg in return before she resurfaces, a chuff escaping him. "Thisss one doessn't either. /Esspecially/ thisss one, considering," he gestures to himself: fangs, eyes. "Accidentsss happen. Though for thisss one, accident can lead to sssomething much worse, ssso they take care not to."

He shrugs. "Have need of sssmall folk to get into placesss. Or bring sssmall game, or play with hatchlingsss. Much to do."

She considers him for some time, before hugging carefully at his arm. "You are forgiven in advance. I enjoy the rough play that we do, and I know that we make each other bleed. Maybe me more than you. But I don't begrudge you the bites or scratches. What happens, happens, and we make up afterwards, right? You honor me by treating me like I am your size."

She blinks and giggles then. "I have a friend named Svarshan, a Sith. A paladin. He once made the mistake of bringing a bag of baked goods to Mictlan. The younglings horded him, I had to help him escape."

Skielstregar accepts the hug with a pat of his large hand on a small head. "Accepted. Thisss one isss well aware they should not treat hulking sssize asss a measure of strength, asss there are more than one way to measssure sssuch a thing. But, erm, thisss one would not want to bite you. They care not if they are bit."

He chuckles at that. "Sssa. That sssoundsss right. They can be... very rambunctioousss."

The Goblin giggles lightly, and opens her tiny maw. She attempts to bite at his elbow, to little effect, a click of teeth on scale, the momentarily sticking of small tongue on frozen metal. It takes her a few moments to extricate her tongue, without ripping the top layer of skin from it. "Point taken!", she says with a snort. "As long as you do not go too nuts, I could probably survive a bite or two. I uh would need healing after, I'm pretty certain."

Murder snorts, nodding. "I admit that I laughed a lot as he ran around. I showed him the trick on how to escape."

It goes about as expected, though Skiel helps the trouble by dipping his elbow into the warm waters to help release. Though, he shakes his head. "The taste of blood drivesss thisss one crazy," he admits. "They have sworn it off. It won't be a bite or two, it would be a rending."

"Oh? What what trick would that be?"

She eyes him curiously. "Okay, I don't want to focus on it too much, because I guess that it would be uncomfortable. Are you able to answer a question on the blood thing, though?" Ball in his court. "Oh, hah, throw the bag in one direction, and run the other way. He still wanted to feed them, but once the younglings have horded up, you gotta dump it and run. They'll scoop everything up, and probably still go looking for you, so you gotta run."

"Mmm. That isss the correct courssse of action. Otherwissse they will bite and cling on," Skiel agrees before looking down at Murder. He shifts a bit, the waters sloshing some. "... it isss uncomfortable, but they can answer. Malefic tellsss thisss one they should be more... open about thisss side of them."

"Okay, not going to carry on about it. Just curious, does blood help you? Like, does it make you stronger, or heal you, or something?" She cants her head slightly. "And I wonder if it would do the same for me?"

Skiel stares at Murder. He reaches out, carefully holding her by the shoulders so that she can face him. "... Murder. What do undead crave mossst?" he asks.

He lets it hang. "Thisss one. Iss. Very. Very. Hungry. Alwaysss."

The Goblin stares up at him. "Oh." She rubs her cheek. "It is easy to forget that part of your nature." More cheek rubbing as they flush with embarrassment. "So never mind then. Uhm. Have you practiced at flying any? Or learned anything new about yourself?"

"It isss easssy to forget when they no long look akin to a rotting corpssse," Skiel nods, releasing the gobbo. "It wasss very hard to rein in during those timesss, but now, they have sserveral vicesss to help starve that hunger. Eating other food, for one, asss well asss prayer and letting loose in solitude."

He leans back. "Sssa. Thisss one flew sssome during the werewolf fight. Though, it wasss less 'flying' and more 'barreling into a bunch of enemies.' It worked either way. But uh... thisss one thinksss they can use the necromanciesss to bolssster their vitality? Safely, without getting into that state. Though, they have not flown since then, as flying isss... well, they have not had the chance to practice."

"I am glad that you're able to do that. I feel badly that you're stuck how you are, but you are doing very well despite it. But yes, you are very handsome with those shiny scales now. Even when you use magics that cause the inky ichor to come out, it doesn't strike me as undead. Simply a response to the magics you're using." The Gobbo nods to his talk of flying. "I would happily show you some tricks to make it easier, if you like."

Skiel sighs, eyes half lidding. He makes a motion, two fingers circling the air, a Daeusite gesture. "If they were not like thisss, they would have died a monssster. There isss no fixing thisss, even the Dragonfather sssaysss so. Or, at leasst, the hunger will never be rid."

The compliment gets him to blink. "... thank you. Thisss one isss very proud of their ssscales. But uh... they are a bit too shiny sssometimes, they have to cover up ssso they do not blind others."

"The black gunk isss necromancy, distilled. But uh, what kindsss of tricksss do you have in mind?"

"I really like the scales too. And there's a certain zen to making them shinier. It's like... In order to get an interesting skin, I'd have to get a tattoo or something, or maybe piercings. I think it'd be neat to have scales instead."

Murder smiles and shrugs lightly. "I was thinking I could first demonstrate by flying myself. If that doesn't work, I could sit on your back again, and give better input."

There is a quiet beat to the large makari. He clears his throat. "... thisss one mussst admit they use a lot of scale polish because they like the sparkle," he murmurs in a quiet tone. Face frosting a bit.

He shakes his head. "We ussse body paint often, or drill hole into hornss or dangle thingsss from hornsss to do the ssame thing. But. Ah. Perhapsss thisss one can watch you and try to copy."

Skiel dunks his head underwater briefly before remerging, a thin layer of ice on his face. "Buuuut. Thisss one will wait until they go back to the woodsss to do that. Thisss one iss here to relax. There are nicer thingsss to ponder. Sssuch asss..."

He scratches his chin. Ice scraping off. "... shoesss. Thisss one doess not understand them."