Worth its Weight in Words

The sunset in the gardens provides for a spectacular view, one that Geir watches in silence. Settled in the somewhat secluded area where Cuemoni was first discovered, the copper-scale is stretched out on one side, watching the sky above.

"Why? After so many years... still finds a way to hide." The coppery tail raises up, and thumps the ground, the Sith's irritation sounding as a growl deep in his throat. A second thump follows the first, as he lets out a long, long breath.

Skielstregar, coming from the temples to the south, seems to have geared up to head out of the city. Armored up, with his breastplate and a beasthead strapped to his shoulder, ambles with his crack halberd acting akin to a walking stick.

The repeated thudding gets his attention, and he veers off to the secluded spot. He samples the air and- frustration? "... Deathsssinger Geir?" he calls out, approaching cautiously. "Peassse on your nessst. Isss all well?"

Geir attempts to act as if all is well and that he regularly sprawls himself out and mutter to himself in the gardens. In the dark, no less. In that he quickly stands and brushes himself off. "Oh, uh Skielstregar! Warrior. All is well. Mosstly." The copper-scale's tail curls back and forth behind him. "You sseem ready for a journey, yes?"

Skielstregar inhales once. Quirks his head to the side, then ambles closer. "Sssa. Back to Mictlan. Thiss one spendsss several daysss there and here."

A pause. "You left in worried hassste. Thisss one wisshes to believe Deathsssinger'sss words, however..." he trails off, rolling a hand.

The copper-scale shrugs his shoulders. "Yess, this one hidess it poorly. This one was surprised by the thought of Z... Zeke having more kin. Nice to know that he is not alone." He exhales slowly, reaching up to rub at his chest.

Skiel releases his weapon, the polearm standing upright on its own as he crosses his arms. Tail swaying low, with a soft clink of metal plates from the armor upon them. "Thisss one iss surprised to, but it isss a welcome sssurprise."

He looks around the space before resting on Geir. "Thisss one getsss the dissstinct feeling your flightinesss was not of joy," he points out flatly.

"You are perceptive, and correct.", Geir says, dryly. The standing polearm draws an arched eyeridge from the copper-scale. "It is both a long, and a short, story. There is a pain thiss one must bear. It is a familiar pain, one grows comfortable with it. But.. there are times when it frays the sensses."

Skiel gives a light sigh through his nose, twin plumes of frozen air spilling forth. "You needn't share what needn't be shared. Thisss one undersstandss."

He looks off in the direction Geir had scurried off to earlier in the day. "Though, it isss prone to raise questionsss when reacting asss sssuch."

Geir is quiet for a time, before nodding once. "This one hoped. Hoped to see him. This one does not wish to bother those who could fetch him." He reaches up to scratch his cheek lightly. "What do you know of the earthquake?"

Skielstregar is well with waiting for an answer, the time spent subtle leaning towards his polearm, which stays upright as he puts his weight against it. His scaled brows raise. "It is true many othersss have been seeking him. Had been. But thisss one feelsss asss if Ssshaman Zeke would ssspare time for the People, regardless."

The question gets his eyes to nictate. "... thisss one knows only what of othersss there told thisss one. Falssse Dragon follower dissrupt scared site. Craft Tlanexhuani wasss there to help with it. Any further information about it, thiss one apologizesss, musst asssk Crafter Tlanexhuani or Sshaman Zeke. It iss not their place to divulge more."

"Hmm. This one would not expose him to danger. Unwise. And this one would not let pride get the better of him. Nor want." Geir huffs, his tail thudding into the ground once more. "This one was there, that day. Missed getting injured out of pure luck. This one does not know the circumstances of how... a certain someone came to be in that place." He lets out a sigh, once more, before straightening. Becoming a little taller.

"This one will not dwell on thingss."

Skielstregar doesn't seem satisfied with that, his tail continuing its low sway. He samples the air once more. "Thisss one does not know either, but they had a bad feeling about that certain someone the entire time."

A pause. "No. It iss bessst to not dwell on what could not be changed. But it iss important for wordsss to be ssshared. And thisss one feelsss asss if you need to ssshare them with Ssshaman Zeke."

"You may be right.", Geir says softly. "Words will be shared. This one thinks it would only be a distraction, right now. As much as that painss this one to say that. It would be... selfissh of this one. Zeke would probably wissh to share words with this one alsso. But there are bigger thingss than two Ssiths with words that should be sshared."

Skielstregar shakes his head. "You ssspeak in contradictionsss. You say isss distraction, yet you sssay Zeke wissshes to share wordsss."

He looks up to the setting sun. Wistful. His weapon seems to have turned towards that direction as well. "The Dragonfather isss strong, but he also teachesss compassion. Wordsss, while they are jussst wordsss, can carry and help bigger burdenssss. Wait not the day for the time to come. Sseize your day. What helpsss you and sssettlesss your mind can make it easssier to settle otherssss," he relays in a rumble.

"Hard to believe you're not a sshaman.", Geir says, his expression mirthful. "Would you desire company on your return to Mictlan? Thiss one would return to assist with returning thingss to some semblance of normalcy."

At that, Skiel stoicism breaks, him belt a laugh. "Thisss one hasss just gone through much asss of late, and hasss come to realize what isss important."

He turns to face Geir. "Sssa. Thisss one is well with company. Thisss one will depart in the morning from the gatesss. Thiss one welcomesss your pressence."

"Then this one's pressence you will have. Are we walking, or does this one require a steed?" Geir's expression has improved already, the moping already gone. "You would do well as a shaman, this one was not jessting."

Skielstregar blinks at Geir, then rubs his neck. "Ah... no no. Thisss one hasss their handsss full asss Warrior. They do not heal. They do not speak to Ea. The Great Wrymsss do not lend blesssingsss. They do not think they would make a good Ssshaman. But Warrior, with wordss, can keep kin safe."

"Thisss one can acquire usss a ssteed."

"Indeed. However, you are wise, more so than jussst a warrior." Geir chuckles. "Bashful works well on your expression. And this one would offer, ssuggest even, that blessings take many forms, and magic is not always required for such."

The copper-scale gestures with a hand. "This one has walked the route many times, a steed isn't necessary, but can be helpful at moving things along."

Being called bashful just lends further ice to form on his cheeks. "... thisss one thankss you for your kind wordsss."

But then, he grins, picking up his weapon from its vigilant standstill. "... sssa, not always, but thisss one doesss have magicsss, nonetheless. They may not be blesssingsss nor Ea's gift, but it isss their own. They can make usss ssteedsss. Worry not."

"As this one thanks you for your words.", the copper-scale replies. Without the icy blush. "This one admitss that the spell does sound interesting, and most useful. But sadly, it is not a priesstly spell. Perhaps this one could dabble in other magics..."

-End Scene-