Twinflame

"The challenge more than anything." K'ile stepped back from what he was doing and dropped into a crouch. He couldn't actually cook anything until Xha'li arrived, and he wasn't going to leave the Elder alone to chase after the kid. SO he just leveled himself off to K'deiki and looked over at her. "If I'd known the tribe had become so complacent about the Nunh, I would've started fighting K'yohko for the title a long time ago. I'd never have won, but I'd have fought for the sake of it."

"I didn't mean to say that you were. Uhm." Where was that Xha'li with those coals? It was going to start getting cold outside soon, and K'ile wanted to be done well before the huntresses returned. "The feast won't be as good as it would've been. But it's been a long time since we've had a feast. Nobody's going to complain about bellies full of good meat."

"Uhm." K'ile reached up and tugged on one ear. He got salt in his hair, though, and so shook his head fiercely, ear flicking. This gave him a headache, which he cringed against subtly. Finally, he turned wincing eyes back on the elder. He hoped he never grew that old. "I'm talking about teaching the children. Role models. They don't have any good ones."

Keeping his face inclined, K'ile Tia was still for a time. Perhaps he was wondering if the Elder was going to crumble in her attempt to sit down. Perhaps he was trying to discern her purpose in approaching him. He was not worried. Of all the Elders, she was the least likely to Exile him on a whim. Perhaps he put too much weight on the Elder's movements. Maybe she was just enjoying the cooler, wetter air of their new home. "At least one man in this tribe should show some interest in the young." K'ile turned back to the salt and wrinkled his nose at it. "They deserve better than they're getting."

K'ile stood up straight from the rack of sticks he'd been setting up over the cooking vessel. His eyes saw K'deiki, but he didn't trust them immediately. The concussion was still playing with his senses, and without his scent of smell, his initial reaction was one of confusion. He couldn't recall the last time an Elder had approached him out among the tents. K'ile glanced outside the tent, into the night, seeking some sign of Xha'li with the coals that K'ile needed in order to begin cooking, but he saw no sign of the man. Ears askew, K'ile returned a vexed gaze to the Elder. Then he inclined his head to her in respect. "K'deiki. I'm not sure what..." He heard the woman's words clearly, but couldn't discern their meaning.

The meat was going to spoil soon. What of it had not been eaten on the trip. That made K'ile's stomach turn. He understood needing to wait on the feast, and needing to initiate the first hunt on the first night. But half of the food he'd brought for the tribe's feat was gone now, and the rest was sitting unused. He'd done everything right, securing the feast, the blessing of a female, but the tribe seemed suddenly uninterested in having anyone challenge the Nunh. K'ile wasn't old enough to be too bitter over it; after all, he did not want to become a Nunh for himself. All of this was for the tribe. Moreso, it was for K'luha. But if the tribe kept this up, being a Nunh would mean nothing. There would be no lovers, no fathers, no families, no heart of strength in the tribe. And K'ile cared about that. So he ignored everything and cooked. He stirred the salt and ignored the way the white dust of it stung his senses, blocking out every smell until he'd be luck if he could tell old meat from new. It didn't matter. He was going to cook everything. He didn't even care if he did a good job. He'd light the bonfire and cook the feast and dare the tribe to ignore his challenge then. The tent that stored the food was no larger than a living tent for a small family; they'd never had enough food to need a bigger one. K'ile set all the boxes of meat open next to the salt and a broad ceramic vessel that would hold the coals that were brought to him.

It was a good thing K'ile had saved some of his venom for K'yohko, as the man seemed to be looking for it. When the Nunh brushed between K'ile and Xha'li, K'ile's glare followed the man, noting the giant Miqo'te's gaze and having little patience for it. "Just being rude." When K'yohko's gaze lingered, K'ile frowned. "Oh, yeah, I'll get you back later. Hey, if you're not busy being completely infertile tonight, maybe you can come help us cook the feast for the ceremony where I kick your ass!" The Nunh was probably already gone before K'ile said most of that. K'ile simmered silently until Xha'li spoke. Then K'ile groaned and rolled his eyes. "You're not gonna clutz this up and ruin it, are you, Xha'li?" The Tia didn't wait for an answer, however, before he began to walk towards the storage tent that sat very near to the center of the camp. "Just come on. There's going to be plenty of fire for cooking, so if you're going to burn your tail, do me a favor and cut it off before coming inside." He reached just inside the flap for an empty ceramic urn, large enough that it was awkward to move but not so heavy that he couldn't swing it into the open with one arm. He set it on the sand by his feet. "Then go fill this thing with coals from the bonfire. Hot ones."

K'ile watched the huntress's pink ears and tail recede into the sinking dusklight. If she was going to be a very good dancer, she'd have to get over her fear of burning herself and probably accept some callouses across her skin. K'ile could hold a coal in the palm of his hand if he really needed to. K'mih's skin needed to harden. But, that was something that came with age, no matter what one did. And if that was her only flaw, he was sure she would be fine. She already had the upper-body strength for it, thanks to that ax of hers. With a shrug at his own thoughts, K'ile turned to face Xha'li dead on, his ears turning limply on top of his head to face the outsider. "Ready to work?"

"Uh, yeah." K'ile rubbed at his head, trying to work out the headache like he mmight a cramp. The more it hurt now, the less it hurt later, right? Probably not. At least he'd gotten all his venom out with one quick, convenient bite at the outsider. Well, not all of his venom. He'd save some for K'yohko. He always saved some venom for K'yohko. "I promised the tribe a feast, and I don't like breaking promises. Cha'li's gonna help me cook and salt things." He looked around the tribe for any sign of K'luha or K'tahja. "I was going to have Tahj help, too, but I guess she hasn't warmed up to the idea of fire yet."

K'ile was still concussed. He hadn't healed between the beggining of the ritual to the end. So when K'iara pushed between them, he stumbled back a bit. K'ile had managed to watch K'mih's dance even through the sting of the firelight, but the pressure of a headache had built behind his eyes during the ritual. K'iara's push broke whatever dam had been containing it and let it flood around his skull, down the back of his neck and up into the tips of his ears. Not that he'd expect any mercy from K'iara. No, that's just how she was, and he liked her that way, but damn it. Still, the Tia only scowled at K'iara's receding tail for a moment before looking back at K'mih and trying to recover his smile. His ears wouldn't rise from where they'd retreated into his hair, but he managed to get his lips up at the corners. "Your energy was great, K'mih, and that's the most important thing. You and I need to start meeting up in the mornings before everyone else wakes up so I can teach you. Then once I get my stones back we an do some two-person dances. Ah, I really miss team-dances! They were so-" Li slapped his shoulder. The headache roiled against his skull, and K'ile cringed against it. The pain stole his smile again and made his tail shiver. And how lucky that Zhuzhu's kid was sticking around to absorb K'ile's rising frustration. "Yeah, Xha'li. Me and you have some work to do tonight. But if you call me 'Unc' again, I'll beat you up a little bit. Or a lot. I'll just start small and keep going until I decide I'm done."

Haha hey look that's me getting beat up by a zombie. My anger is well-captured. He's such a jerk! D:

"Don't be afraid of the fire. It won't burn you if you respect it." K'ile repeated the words he'd been told more than once by the other firedancers, back when there were other firedancers. He stepped back and moved the unlit staff in his own fingers, turning it fast enough that the air hissed around it. "Don't worry about skill, or rhythm, or your body. Just move the fire. First comes heat. Skill comes later." He spun his staff several times, then stopped it, and pointed with one end towards the bonfire. "Between the fire and the tribe, in that open place there."

Having positioned the bones, K'takka stepped back from the fire. She grinned at it, the wood honest and dry. Real wood that would crackle and shout, roaring in the voice of a lion to the sun in the same way a wolf howls to the moon. The old, dark woman stood like burnt wood in tanned leather, silver eyes gleaming from beneath the wiry brambles of her hair, and her claws shifted. She shook her wrist and the red stones clicked, flickering. Their power was not diminished from having given one of the stones to K'mih. They were still many, still powerful, the soulstones of the firedancers of the past. Her next part in this ritual was simple. Normally she would light the fire with a spark, but not today. Today, she shook her wrist, and the firedancing stones lit up. Shapes illuminated in the pile of wood, tracing the lines of bones she lain. The bones resting along the wood immolated, red heat lifting from them and tracing the shapes, giving them definition, taking shape. Plumes of fire lit on the two dozen shapes as they stirred, small birds with bodies of flame perched on the wood. Their heads turned about, looking at the Miqo'te gathered around them. Then they spread their wings, and spread their bodies, and flattened across the wood. They became the bonfire, sinking into the fiber of the wood and crackling across it. The flame dropped fast into the kindling, growing hot an instant later, and reaching high above the gathering. It crackled and spat, howling with the rush of eat. K'takka took a far step back, smiling up at it, chuckling at the ferocity of the fire she'd lit.

K'ile tried to catch the short staff, but quick movement made his head hurt and his arm just dropped weakly. Afterward, however, he followed and plucked it off the ground, stomping out the sizzling weeds among which it had fallen. "I said it was going to catch on fire. You really need to get used to that, firedancer." He turned back towards K'mih, spun the burning staff in his fingers once, and held it out to her again. "Come on."

K'ile lead K'mih away from the other huntresses, out to the perimeter of the gathering. He whispered, "Sorry, but you're part of the ritual from now on. It's important." He produced two narrow shafts of wood, each about half the length of a spear. He placed on across K'mih's palm and wrapped her fingers around it, his hand warm and calloused on her thin fingers. K'ile's gaze was neutral, but his twitching ears, low against his hair, revealed a certain tenseness of emotion. "Give the staff a flick. Start the movement in your chest and let it roll down your should into your hand lake a shaken rope. Imagine the bead as flint sparking the tinder in your hand. The fire will flow to either end of the stick." K'ile, holding the other stick, imitated the gesture he had just described. He wore no beads, however, so the short staff he held did not light.

K'ile came at the gathering from a completely different side than K'tahjha and Xha'li did. He watched K'deiki absently as he filed himself in among the huntresses, looking at their faces but giving his full attention to a pair of pink ears which he approached. Touching K'mih lightly on the shoulder, he leaned down towards her to whisper beneath the ceremony, "Hey, you're the firedancer now. Come on. I need to teach you something real quick." He gestured towards the area behind the crowd. Among the Elders, K'takka moved her weary body boldly up to the edge of the piled firewood. It had been so long since they had been able to easily build such a fire. On a whim, everything assembled and ready to burn. She shook the string of bright stones on her wrist, and her fingers shook with age in response to the slight movement. The dryness of the wood was palpable. She could smell it. Her silver eyes could see it in the grains. She could predict the lines the fire would take depending on where it would light. K'takka took bones from her robe, thin, brittle shapes plucked from the Sagolii. The were the bones of clean birds, the kinds who built high nest and cared for their young, who did battle with the buzzards and the hawks to protect their homes. Rare birds in the Sagolii, but she'd seen more of them in this place. Good omens. "We offer all that remains of the bounty of the past, to honor the bounty of the future." K'takka proclaimed as she placed the bones along the grain of the wood. She continued placing the bones, her baggy clothes swaying about her thin frame. Unlike K'jhani, K'takka was decorated in gemestones and cold, wearing purples and blue obtained from Ul'dahn traders in days past.

Why was everyone being so weird? At least Xha'li had his feet on the ground. It was just cooking. Even K'luha could've helped with that if she didn't look two steps from dead. Still, she did take comfort from others when she needed it, and it seemed she was taking K'tahjha. "Eh, fine, fine." K'ile turned to walk past Xha'li, heading towards a different part of the camp. "Thanks. We'll need more help. Maybe I'll ask K'yohko to help me cook, eh?" He laughed at the joke, but his laughing hurt the base of his ears, so he stopped.

The Amal'jaa increased his complaints as Thal drove upward on the spike, but only a few more seconds passed before the beastman grew weak. His roars became ragged coughs and his claws pulled weakly at the dirt. After that, he would be still, and the mana in his body -- the aether resonating from the conflict between two living beings -- would be surrendered into the land around them. At least, the aether would have been surrendered, if not for an intervening magic...

It was perhaps lucky for Thal that the less observant of the two Amal'jaa was the one that had barred his path. This one had dragged his claws around the wall as he'd walked, and he had not listened to Thal's footsteps even as he heard them. When the spike pierced his back, sliding between his scales and into his flesh, the Amal'jaa pitched forward and landed on his face in the dirt. He was, however, still an Amal'jaa, and even with one lung pierced he let out a feral shout that echoed down the hallway in both directions. His tail and claws writhed then, much like the sand drake had when it had been impaled.

A blast of heat rushed on a wind from the southeast, the breath of some fresh volcano yawning as it emerged. It came with a distant cracking of stone, but the sound was so natural to the is place that only one of the two Amal'jaa noticed it. The observant one lifted his dark head, looking first at the sky and then at the other. He reached out and struck his companion in the shoulder, "The Bowl of Embers has opened. You get the Chah. I'll fetch the sacrifice." Before waiting for his answer, the Amal'jaa turned to walk south, towards the shadows. The one who had not noticed before glanced around for a few confused moments before rolling his large tail and responding in a wordless huff, spinning to head into the crag and disappearing there.

The drake hunted through Zanr'ak in a more-or-less straight line. The roads curved around ramps and cliffs, ironworks and sites of unholy ritual where the power of Ifrit burned as a palpable volcanic breath. Zanr'ak was a city of tempered Aml'jaa and their sand drakes. From time to time, a Miqo'te in a linen robe could be seen, seemingly at work. They were not caged or shackled. They did not have to be. But they were slaves nonetheless. As the drake moved towards the eastern part of Zanr'ak, the sun began to fall below the horizon, and the great crags through shadows over one another. They rushed into a premature night, the fires of Ifrit lighting up dirt and stone. The air grew hotter the further west they went. The drake moved undeterred, untiring, towards a deep crag where a pair of Amal'jaa idled. They took notice of the drake as it approached, and though it did not acknowledge them and in fact looked like it was about to slip past them into the crag, one of them jammed a great metal spear through its neck. As the drake writhed and made hideous sounds, The Mal'jaa that had skewered it lifted it for the other to see. "Is it the same as the other two?" "The Scorpion's drake." The second guard huffed, shifting unpleasantly. "The Roh will kill us when he finds out we're killing his drakes, but what are we supposed to do? Just let them attack the Chah?" "This is no accident. Baoht knows that Shan'Gai Chah is to be tempered tonight." Lifting the drake on his spear as it still squirmed, he cast it into a dark corner where the corpses of two more waited. "The Rho has four drakes, so watch for the other and don't let it into the crag. If Baoht Zuqqa Roh does not come to challenge the Chah himself, then I say he is too weak a being to hold a grudge against us."

Baoth Zuqqa Roh pitched his head back and let out a roar. In response, the drake at his feet turned and ran once more towards Zunr'ak. The Amal'jaa dropped his glare to Thal. "My other drakes hunt Shan'Gai Chah. Now, that one does as well. Follow him to your quarry. Seek the one they attack. That will be how you know Shan'Gai Chah, whom you must slay. Do not fail."

Baoht Zuqqa Roh turned to glare out over the sands, watching the sun work its way downward. He was patient, as a hunter needed to be, even though this would ultimately not be his hunt. The child of Man claimed to be a hunter, but Baoht Zuqqa Roh doubted that his people hunted in a way that an Amal'jaa would recognize as hunting. K'aijeen remained stationary for a long time, with her arms crossed over her face. After some time in silence, after the sun crawled downward, she lifted her arms awkwardly to look under them. Thal was still present. The Amal'jaa was making him wait. The presence of the massive, dark being caused her to remain silent and still. She was afraid to move so much as her tail, though it did lift and fall once. Her throat seemed to have been ruined anew, though she knew the problem was more complicated than that. Pierced lungs, broken skull. She felt like a pile of balanced stones that was falling apart. She couldn't even yell at Thal, though she could feel some distant anger at him for agreeing to the Amal'jaa's conditions. A drake returned, dragging something indescribably pungent. It stand of Miqo'te and hellfire, blood and sweat and death and wicked magic. In application, it was just a burlap robe, but it seemed to have been torn fresh from the body of whomever had been wearing it. Baoht Zuqqa Roh growled at the drake when it appeared, and the animal approached him. The Amal'jaa snatched the robe from the drakes teeth and then turned towards the child of Man. "The so-called hunters of Forgotten Springs make good pets, once tempered. The fire of Lord Ifrit trains them so that they work for us and fight for us. They wear this."He tossed the robe towards Thal. "Put it on. You already smell of drakes and Amal'jaa blood. None will question your presence in Zanr'ak. You may even find weapons and arm yourself once within."

"Why would I elaborate?" Baoht Zuqqa Roh looked down on the child of Man, his expression a glare. "My plan will work. You will not like it. You will do it anyway. Provided my patience with your whining does not wear thin before my drakes return."

K'aijeen shivered where she was. She made a small, useless sound, that might have been a protest. Baoht Zuqqa Roh watched his Drake eat something from the cloth he'd protest, and then he put the bundle away. He huffed and growled at the drake, and it made a low, hungry sound in response before leaving toward Zunr'ak. When the other two arrived, he fed them from a different bundle, growling out them in kind before they took off as well. Then he rose and turned to look towards Zunr'ak as though he could watched whatever it was that they were doing. "We wait until my drakes return. It may take some time."