[Flashback] The start of a beautiful friendship (Massacre)

[Scratch]

Scratch noticed the hunting party almost as soon as the Zith, and had a similar reaction, though her desire to fight was irrationally trumped by a fear of how much trouble she would be in with her mother. Fortunately, she realized the mixed blessing of the Akalak's presence. They would make sure her brother got home safely, which would allow her to focus her attention on her original goal (before her brother had interrupted) of learning about the Zith.

She reached down to grab her brother's collar and said to him, "If you tell anyone that I'm out here, I'll tell mother you put yourself in unnecessary danger." Knowing how their mother felt about the children's safety, that threat ought to keep him quiet, at least for a while. She shoved him in the direction of the approaching Akalak group, and turned to give the Zith a quick nod.

She prepared to run as fast as she could in the opposite direction, trusting her injured brother to buy her the necessary time to escape. To her surprise, before she could get anywhere, she felt herself being lifted off the ground. She tried to get used to the dizzying sensation of flying, but she couldn't keep her heart from racing at the exhilaration and adrenaline of narrowly and spectacularly escaping certain death. The experience was marred only by the mild discomfort of something hard digging onto her thigh...

When they landed, Scratch turned and tried to step back, but he wouldn't let go. Now that her brother was in safe hands, she grinned mischievously and added a term to their agreement, "I'll lend you my mind in return for yours. I've never had anyone teach me to be a proper Zith. I think it's time I learned, don't you?" Judging from the lust in his eyes, the Zith wouldn't be answering anytime soon. Scratch found she didn't mind; it felt good to be desired for her body, as opposed to being feared and hated or being seen as little more than a sack in which to deposit offspring. Also, she found herself really quite attracted to this man, as demonstrated by the unfamiliar sensations of her body responding to him.

[Massacre]

It wasn't hard for Massacre to carry the girl. For one she was very light, and second it was a favored tactic of his to swoop down and snatch his prey off the ground only to let then fall to their deaths after he had ascended to a considerable height. Usually his prey was struggling as well, so the fact that she was being still made it all the easier for him. Even with all that, Massacre couldn't carry the extra weight forever. He was mostly just trying to escape the sight of the akalaks, and put as much distance between himself and the hunters as possible. Eventually they did land, amidst a small stand of trees, and that was the first time either of them spoke since they had taken flight. Judging from the way she spoke and the fact that she hadn't moved away, Massacre assumed she wasn't going to oppose his advances either. She wanted a lesson? It was time for her first. Massacre's hands moved up from their position around her waist until his clawed fingers lightly cupped her breasts. "Okay," he whispered, "I'll teach you. ..first lesson." The tips of his fingers pressed into the fabric of her shirt between the mounds of her chest, and Scratch felt the tiny pinpricks as his claws poked her skin. "Zith don't wear clothes." Massacre's claws tore open the fabric of her shirt, tossing it aside in shreds, and probably leaving scratches on her skin as well. The lower half of her attire was quickly disposed of.as well, and Massacre wasted no time in moving on to the next lesson. Though the lesson was unintentional, Scratch would learn that the Zith lovemaking experience was a far more passionate, and far more dangerous affair than the way other races made love. As soon as the clothes were out of the way Massacre shoved her face first toward the nearest tree and quickly pushed his way inside her. As always, that first warm enveloping feeling was almost excruciating in its ecstasy, and Massacre gripped her waste with clawed hands as he pushed in and out. They didn't stay that way for long, as Massacre liked to keep the experience fresh, and soon enough he spun her around to face her. Massacre's lips pressed to hers as his claws raked her back, leaving thin lines of passion that left a trail of blood to mingle with her fur. The whole experience was probably unlike anything Scratch had ever had, as the couple seemed to wrestle as much as have sex. Zith love affairs often left one another covered in bloody scratches, but the pain mingled with pleasure and only served to heighten the experience. The moment Scratch started to "fight back" and add her own claws and teeth to the mix, the experience skyrocketed again. Massacre did not slow until he was fully spent, and even then he still tried to go on just for the love of the moment. When finally they did stop they found themselves on the ground covered in grass and dirt. Massacre stayed still only a moment before sitting up, wiping some of the dirt from his face. "Mmm.. its been a while for me. That was.. good." Massacre felt awkward. Usually when he was done, he either fell asleep with his mate, or they both went on to do other things. This time he was going to have to stay and talk. Since she had already given him one thing he wanted, he figured it probably best to let her ask her questions first. "So.... What did you want to know about the Zith?"

[Scratch]

After Scratch's clothes were shredded (she knew she'd have to replace them somehow), she barely had time to make sure that the amulet around her neck was still secure before she was shoved against a tree. Her first instinct was to balk, but the sudden shock of penetration distracted her. At first, all she could do was claw the tree in front of her (though the fact that her claws were damaging anything was proof enough that she had given up control of her actions).

By the time he turned her to face him, Scratch's instincts had taken over. She kissed him back fiercely, mirroring his actions, learning from him. His claws felt amazing; it felt like he was scratching an itch she didn't know she'd had. She responded by digging a deep, long gash down his back. She quickly grew bored of standing so she hooked her leg around his to trip him while pushing off from the tree, sending them both tumbling to the ground.

The rolled around on the ground, each fighting for dominance, neither holding it for long. When she was on top, she thrust her hips to meet his, and arched her back with pleasure. When he forced her onto her back, she would bite his shoulder until she once more gained the upper hand. By the time the Zith was finished, part of Scratch wanted to keep going, but she realized that she was completely exhausted. She lay on the ground breathing heavily for several moments.

When she sat up, she had a moment of panic when she noticed that her amulet was missing, but she soon noticed it a few feet away on the ground. The cord had been severed, unsurprisingly. She tied it around her neck once more before sitting down next to the Zith man.

When he asked his question, Scratch glanced over at him and picked a twig out of his hair before answering. "Everything. All I know about my father's people is what my mother told me. I don't even know my own language." While talking, she had been fiddling with the twig, shaving the bark off with her claws until the tiny stick was completely destroyed. Then she lifted her dark blue eyes to meet his and asked, "What is your name? What do I call you?"

[Massacre]

Massacre's response came in the form of a strange, low, subsonic rumbling trill that was unlike anything Scratch had ever heard before. Well, except for the things Massacre had said earlier. The Zith knew she likely couldn't duplicate the noise without some practice, if she ever could at all, but if he was going to take her under his wing then he wanted to start things off right. Oddly enough, the almost tender moment didn't put him off at all. It was, perhaps, Massacre's mind telling him this was the closest thing to a tribe he had had in a very long time. Massacre responded in common next. "My name is that, as well as my scent, and the sound of my voice. Among our own kind we don't really use names. We take names so the slaves have something to call us. I am called Massacre." Massacre leaned in, a hand reaching up to caress the woman's shoulder, and he breathed in the scent of her. It was a strangely tender moment, but Massacre was doing it for a reason. He was learning Scratch's name, her real name. "I know you now, your scent, your voice. What you are called doesn't really matter.. but I would like to know it. What are you called?" The Zith paused to stretch as he waited for her to answer, his arms extending high over his head and his wings spreading out wide behind his back. The tingling feeling as his muscles were stretched out was refreshing, despite the burn from his scratches as they were pulled taut. After he was done he started to speak more. "We live in tribes. Some small, some big. My tribe was always moving. We never stayed in one place for long. Some tribes capture slaves, but we rarely did since we were always on the move. The tribes are led by elders. I was an elder, the youngest ever in my tribe. All the others were killed, and I was all that was left to take their place." Massacre paused and turned to look Scratch in the eyes. He wasn't the best with words, common wasn't exactly his first language and he rarely used it, but he was coming to the important part of the story. Massacre wanted to make sure Scratch understood that importance. He wanted to make sure she understood how wrong she was for living where she did. "They were killed by akalaks. All the elders and most of my tribe.. massacred." Massacre's mind drifted back to that moment, so many years ago. He was no stranger to death, but to see his entire tribe slaughtered for no reason.. and his mate, the only Zith he had ever loved. All of them dead but for a handful, it was not a memory he was fond of recalling, but for some reason Massacre thought it was important that Scratch understand. Perhaps she reminded him of his lost love, Arri, or maybe it was just his instincts as the elder Zith, but she needed to understand the truth. "Zith do not hate the akalak.. not at first. We hunt them, yes, but we hunt anything that is food. We might even enslave them for a time, but again that is usually for food. Your akalaks, they hunt us for nothing! They don't eat us, they just leave us to rot. They hunt us for fun, to call themselves adults. We don't do that. Hunting is fun, but we do it to survive. Your brother is no different. He will hunt us, and kill us, and he will hate us. If you want to be a Zith, then you cannot be with them."

[Scratch]

Scratch's ignorance of what she considered her own language made her feel self-conscious, and she was determined to learn it as quickly as possible. She immediately tried imitating his Zith name, but her voice cracked a bit and the timing on some of the rumbles was off. When he leaned in to smell her, she followed his lead and delicately inhale the scent from his hair, trying to commit it to memory.

When he asked for her name, she bit her lip for a moment; she had no name in Zith that she knew. If her father had given her one, her mother had no way of teaching it to her. Finally, she simply said, "My mother calls me Scratch."

After that, she listend to his story intently, but when Massacre began talking about the akalaks, Scratch shifted uncomfortably. She was all too familiar with that moral dilemma; it was one she'd been struggling with her whole life. She wanted to believe that she could convince her brother not to hate Zith when he grew up, but even she had trouble believing she could counter the force of the entire Akalak culture.

When Massacre was finished, she responded in an agitated tone, "You think I don't know that? You think I don't hate every Akalak who has ever killed a Zith? You think I want my brother to become one of them, that I haven't tried to think of ways to stop him?" She stood up and began pacing back and forth, unable to sit still. She usually tried not to think about this mess, since there wasn't much she could do about it. But she had to find a way to explain this to Massacre, to make him understand.

She scratched her head and spoke slowly as her mind raced. "You can't know what it was like, growing up in a city full of them. The only reason I haven't been kill by now is because of my mother. In Riverfall, Akalaks hold all the power. The only was I could survive, was to play by their rules. My mother taught me how to not give them a reason to kill me. She also protected me by giving the Akalak what they wanted, namely my brother." Scratch stopped pacing and met Massacre's eyes. "My mother dedicated her life to making sure I would survive. And that is why I cannot leave Riverfall yet. I cannot leave my mother there alone." She waited for his reaction. As much as she resented the fact, she was not wholly Zith, and her city upbringing had left her with a much different impression of the world than the one Massacre held. She desperately wanted to believe that she had found an ally, but her instinct to survive was strong, and the rules for survival were different in a city.

[Massacre]

Massacre took her outburst in stride. He could understand her dedication to family, it was a trait all Zith had, passionately loyal to those of their blood and tribe. Massacre would gladly have died to protect his family, and almost did many times, but in the end he had lost them all. Perhaps he didn't truly understand her situation, but in his eyes she was missing one very important thing. She could just take her family and leave. Massacre didn't say it though. He did understand the desire to stay in one place. His tribe had been nomadic, but over the years he often thought of what it would be like to settle down and carve out a permanent territory. Or to go and live among the Zith of Xy or Din. Massacre had never been to those places, though he had heard of them from other Zith, and the thought always intrigued him. If Massacre could carve out his own such place and establish a permanent tribe... the thought was beautiful to him. Massacre was silent for a long time. It was clear that this girl, the person who was half a Zith, was not going to leave her tribe just because Massacre said that she should. Perhaps he could convince her over time, or he could just keep her and never let her return. She certainly had her benefits, and though the idea was tempting to the Zith, Massacre didn't break his promises. Where the trait had come from was uncertain, but even Massacre who was a "mindless" Zith had his own sense of honor. He didn't break his promises, and he told Scratch he would take her back. There was no point in trying to convince her to stay, and so there was no reason to talk about the subject either. "You want to stay with your family and protect them. Zith always protect their family.." Massacre paused as his thoughts once again drifted to that of his tribe. He had failed to protect them, led them into death actually because he was arrogant and thought he knew better than the previous elders. There were places his tribe simply did not go, and Massacre had seen that only as weakness. He wanted to prove that he could lead them better. Everyone was gone. Shaking his head the Zith switched his train of thought. It was his turn to ask some questions. "I have actually been to two cities before, after my tribe... One a city of giant furry men and trees as tall as the sky. The city itself was in the sky. The other was next to the sea, a city made out of stone and protected by men in metal clothing. They were very confusing places. The first, they didn't mind me. Actually, they invited me in. They tried to teach me about these little flat, shiny rocks they called Mizas. They said that I had to know about those if I wanted to eat or find somewhere to sleep, but I got frustrated and left. The other city let me in, but they weren't helpful at all. None of the humans liked me, and I was driven out of the city for killing one who insulted me. There are just too many rules, I can't understand them all. But I want to know, because there are things from cities that I know are good. Like my bow and sword, and there is enough food to have fed my tribe for years. But to get it you need the flat rocks. I remember some of the slaves had those rocks, the Mizas. They always got mad when we threw them away. I need to learn why, and how, these cities are so good. If I can learn that, maybe I can start a new tribe and make it better."

[Scratch]

Scratch knew a little about the other cities in Mizahar, so she was able to partially identify the places Massacre described. She was pretty sure the first one described the Spires, but she was having trouble placing the city of stone with men clad in metal. Maybe Syliras?

At Massacre's request to learn how cities work, Scratch was struck once more by how utterly different their worlds were. She opened her mouth to try to explain, but no words came out. How do you explain things you've been assuming your whole life? As her mind tried and failed to encompass the task of explaining all of civilization to the Zith, she gave up and settled on his simpler question first. Money.

She sat down again, glad that he had at least given her a respite from moral dilemmas. She grabbed her head in her claws as she wracked her brain for the words that might make him understand. "Mizas are coins. Money. I left mine at home, or I would show you. Maybe I can bring them next time," she added in an aside, assuming already that this would not be her only encounter with Massacre. "You use them to buy things, like food. You...exchange Mizas for things you want, or need. Because they are valuable. Then, you get Mizas by getting a job. That is, you do work, something that somebody else wants done, and they pay you for it, by giving you Mizas." She raised her head and looked Massacre in the eyes, wondering if she was making any sense to him. "Mizas which you can then use to buy food and things."

She then closed her eyes and thought further about how to explain the purpose of civilization to Massacre, her hair becoming hopelessly tangled from all the furious scratching. His main complaint had been too many rules. So, what was the purpose of the rules? What did the rules offer people that the wilds didn't have? "I think the reason there are cities is because the rules make them safer. It's pretty easy to not die in a city, as long as you follow the rules. Out here, in order to survive, you have to be strong, so that you can defeat the things that want to eat you. But in the city, there are so many people who all follow the same rules, you can't possibly become strong enough to defeat them all. So the way you survive is by not making them angry enough to want to kill you, and by following their rules."

[Massacre]

Massacre listened to everything Scratch said, about Mizas and cities both, and just shook his head. It was the same thing the Jamoura tried to explain to him. He still didn't understand why the coins were valuable, but it seemed that he would never find that out so perhaps dropping the issue would be best. All he really needed to know was that Mizas got you stuff, and to get them you had to do stuff. Or... Massacre could just take them from people. That seemed much easier than working for someone, and definitely more his style. Massacre didn't like the idea of working for someone. That was the job of slaves. As far as the explanation Scratch gave about rules and cities, Massacre understood the basic concept well enough. Even the Zith had rules, whatever the elders decided they should be, but cities had rules about everything! There were rules about where you can sleep, what you can say, whether or not you are wearing clothing, killing, everything! Did there really need to be a rule about everything you did? But then again, cities were successful and tribes were small and had a hard life. From what Massacre had heard, the Zith city of Xy had adopted many things from their slaves, and they were very successful. Massacre had often considered visiting the castle, but he had no idea where exactly it was. Massacre couldn't imagine what it would be like to live permanently in a place as rigid as that. He didn't know how Scratch could stand it. Everyone in those cities might as well just be slaves. But, perhaps that was the key. Somebody had to make the rules, didn't they? Just like an elder did? Which meant all the people who followed them were just slaves. Was that the key to success? To make slaves out of everyone. Massacre didn't like the thought of enslaving his fellow Zith, but perhaps there was a lesson in there somewhere? Of course there was probably more to it than that. Simply having slaves didn't make you successful. Slaves tried to escape, slaves fought back, yet the people Massacre encountered in his limited experience within the cities all seemed more than happy to serve. They wanted to be slaves. But why? How did you make someone want to be a slave? The intricacies of city politics were beyond Massacre's comprehension at that time, despite his sharp mind. But he would learn, and he would lead his tribe into greatness. "Tell me more. I want to know everything! Tell me about your life. What work do you do?" OOCBleh, this is a kind of lame post. I couldn't think of what to say.

[Scratch]

OOCHint: If you do some of your thinking out-loud, I can respond to it, rather than being forced have Scratch ignore the majority of your post. =)

Scratch was already stressed from trying to explain civilization in terms Massacre would understand. When his reaction was to pester her with more questions, she snapped. "ENOUGH! Stop making me think! I am tired of thinking!" With that, she tackled Massacre, using the element of surprise to knock him onto his back. Laying on top of him, she looked into his eyes and said with a grin, "Now YOU teach me something fun!" She ignored the mild discomfort of her amulet pressed between their chests, but that was easier for her since most of the jagged edges were on Massacre's side at the moment.

[Massacre]

Massacre was surprised when she tackled him and pinned him to the ground. One moment they were talking about cities and the next she was on top of him, her pointy amulet stabbing him in the chest. "Now YOU teach me something fun." Fun.. fun.. what did Massacre think was fun? Well, there was sex. That was fun. But they already did that, and it would be at least another fifteen chimes before Massacre was ready for that again. Then there was fighting. Massacre loved to fight, but they had already done that as well. The only other thing Massacre could really think of that would be considered fun was hunting. But that would take some time, and Scratch couldn't fly. Massacre usually preferred to hunt by air, and he didn't know how long he could carry her, so if they hunted it would probably have to be by ground. Massacre flipped them over so that he was on top instead, staring down at Scratch. Casually he reached for her amulet, holding it off her chest as he ran a clawed finger over it and examined it. He didn't rip it off or anything, just looked it over curiously. He seemed like he was about to question her about it, his mouth opened slightly, but then he dropped it and hopped to his feet, offering Scratch a hand to help her up. "I can think of something fun to do." Massacre walked over to his weapons and tucked them up against a tree. It wasn't exactly a great hiding spot, but it would do. "Let's go find somebody to eat." Massacre turned back to Scratch, trying to gauge her reaction. He said somebody, not something, or some animal, or some food, but somebody. A person. There were always Drykas and Akalak running around the grasslands, they just had to find some that were sleeping and steal one in the night. Massacre figured he could fly for that long. He didn't always eat people, in fact it was a rarity because animals were easier, but she wanted to learn what it was like to be a Zith, and Zith ate people. Offering his hand to Scratch once more, he spread his wings wide, and waited to see what she would do.