Closed Coming Home (Scorn)

[Massacre]

. . Coming Home . . Timestamp: 7th of Winter, 512 AV Location: Sea of Grass It had been nearly two seasons, maybe more, Massacre had lost count. Things all looked the same in the Spires, regardless of what season it was. Massacre had grown tired of living with the large and peaceful ape creatures. The Zith colony that lived near the Spires was not to his liking, though he did enjoy the company of fellow Zith, but Massacre found himself craving the wild once more. He was growing soft and weak in the safety of Human and Jamoura cities. It was not his way. And among the colony, he was not the leader, and Massacre did not like that either. There were many rules, both with the Zith, and with the Jamoura. And he did not like any of it. At some point early in the fall Massacre decided he was done with it. Spreading his wings, he set out into the tall forest and went back the way he came. He knew to go the other way around would take him to the great mountains, and then the jungle where he had lost the remaining members of this tribe long ago, and Massacre desired neither of those places. The mountains were cold, and he wanted nothing to do with the jungle. So Massacre went back the way he came, passing out of Taldera and into Sylira, both names he knew nothing of, and continued south along the coast. He knew where he was heading, to the great Sea of Grass where he was born, and he knew the way well. Massacre's tribe had followed the path many times, both while he led them, and before. It was good to migrate once more, and by the time winter had arrived, Massacre found himself in familiar lands.. or as familiar as anyone could be with the Sea of Grass. He might have arrived sooner, but the Zith was weighed down by.. civilized things. His sword and bow, which he had carried for many years, but also gold for which he had little use, and a few other items including a unique set of arrows he picked up in the Spires. There was a part of him that was disgusted with himself, though he would not admit it. Massacre had always been a wild Zith, but after the loss of his tribe and years of living alone he found himself seeking the comfort of civilization more and more often. When the great storm swept across the land at the beginning of spring the wilderness became too dangerous for him to survive by himself, and Massacre fled to the nearest human settlement. Sunberth, it was called. There he joined a band of mercenaries, a half-assed attempt to find himself some sort of colony, and he traveled with those mercenaries back into the wild and across the land to the Jamouran city known as the Spires. There he aided the strange ape people in reclaiming their home, but in doing so he again grew more and more comfortable. In exchange for his claws, they offered him shelter, and food. And Massacre grew softer still. The journey back to the Sea of Grass was not overly hard, Massacre was still fit enough to survive, and he knew the safest routes. He did not encounter any trouble along the way, and made it home safe and sound. After that he sought out a place of relative safety. There were many tunnels beneath the tall grass, though finding the entrances was rarely easy. Massacre would not be so lucky as to find such a den the first day of his return, so instead he settled for a pair of large boulders, taller than he was, surrounded as always by the tall grass. They were more to use as a landmark than to provide any sort of shelter. He just needed some place to stash his things while he went out to find something to eat. The Zith would worry about shelter later. Luckily, the Sea of Grass was full of edible creatures ripe for the picking. And more luckily, Massacre did not spot any glassbeaks in the area. There were few things that the Zith truly feared, but to face a glassbeak alone was to face death. He would have to make sure that when he slept he remained alert, jumping at any sound, just in case. Until he found a hole the glassbeak could not follow him into, he would not be safe. The Zith wasn't overly concerned about Drykas, they were loud to his Zith ears and he would easily hear them coming long before they found him. Gliding along, it did not take the Zith long to spot something worth eating. The deer was grazing, along with its mate, from some grass near a small tree. It's ears were not perked up, which meant it did not suspect any danger. Neither of them did, and Massacre could tell they would be easy picking. What he didn't notice was the other Zith.. but that would come later. Massacre circled back around, intending to swoop down from on high. His wings folded back and he went into a dive. The deer’s ears perked in alarm, and Massacre snarled, realizing he would have to chase it. The deer ran, but it wouldn't be Massacre who caught it.

[Scorn]

Scorn was tired, and hungry. Not to mention lost, but that at least was nothing new. It had been three seasons since her sister was taken by the wild storm, and Scorn was no closer to finding her, but that would never stop her from looking. Still, she had left her colony behind to search, and aside from a brief stint in a human city that made no sense, she had been entirely alone. She longed for her twin's companionship, but until she found Scourge, she would be willing to settle for any Zith. She was tired because she was still weighed down by what she carried. When she left, her father made her take hundreds of small rocks with her, "human money" he'd called it. He seemed to think they might be able to protect and care for her in lieu of a proper colony, but mostly they were just heavy. Still, she did not dare abandon them in case he was right. Her father usually was. If she was any judge, she should be nearing home by now, but though the landscape was grassy and flat much like her homeland, she smelled nothing that even hinted that her family had once been near here. What she did smell was food. Not bothering to stash her possessions, she soared higher to get a better view without potentially spooking the animal. It was a grasseater, one of the docile beasts who only knew how to eat and run. Not Scorn's favorite meal, but she was too hungry to be picky just now. She was about to descend on her prey, when something spooked it and it bolted. Scorn looked around, furious to see what had chased away her kill. If it was another predator, maybe she could eat that instead. But no, she quickly spotted the other Zith, clumsily scaring away the only source of food around. She was too angry to be glad to see another of her kind, and when he gave chase, she couldn't take it anymore. She was too tired, hungry, and lost to let someone else take the only half-way decent kill for miles around. The deer zig-zagged, so Scorn wasn't able to judge where it would be to make a dive for it. Grumbling to herself, she dove int he general direction the deer was going, but pulled up before she got too close to the ground. Ignoring the strange Zith, Scorn flapped as hard as she could to catch up to the fleeing creature. She thought her strength would give out, but she was so close, so she put forth one last burst of speed and sunk her claws into the thing's haunches. It kept running, even more terrified, but Scorn clung to it with both hands and feet. Not wanting to wait for the beast to tire, she reached down with one foot and sliced through the muscles in the back of its knee. This slowed the deer down enough for Scorn to claw her way up its back and slit its throat. She began gorging herself instantly, pulling bloody flesh from the deer's neck and gulping it down. She only remembered the other Zith when he came close enough to potentially steal her food. She paused, glaring up at him, blood dripping and bits of flesh dangling from her mouth. She said nothing, waiting to see whether she would have to defend her kill.

[Massacre]

Massacre was stunned by the appearance of another Zith, and more importantly, another Zith who happened to swoop down and steal his kill. A number of emotions ran through his mind in a matter of ticks as he stood watching the Zith kill his prey, surprise and anger foremost among them. He only paused for a moment, but it was long enough for Scorn to begin gorging on the deer that should have been his. No matter that he was the one who failed to notice the competition. No matter that he was the one who startled his prey and failed to catch it in time. All that mattered was that she had stolen it from him, and that he could not let stand. Massacre snarled as he charged at the female Zith, his wings kicking up dust as they lifted him off the ground lending speed to his attack. While Massacre may have grown soft from his time in civilization, he was still a competent fighter, and like all Zith he rarely held anything back. He wasn't really aiming to kill her, though, but just to teach her a lesson for stealing his prey. If she didn't manage to get away from him he would tackle Scorn to the ground, his sharp claws digging into her arms as he bit and slashed and attempted to assert his dominance. He could tell just by looking at her that she was younger, much younger, than he was and that meant that he was rightfully in charge. He also knew that in his own youth, he could have cared less how old his elders were if they got into an altercation, and Massacre knew the only way to teach a Zith a lesson was to force them to learn. The deer belonged to Massacre, as far as he was concerned, even if she had been the one to kill it and if she wanted to share in the kill she would have to wait her turn. The other deer was long gone. It might have been smarter to go after it instead, and leave the Zith to her business.. but Massacre wasn't thinking clearly. He was angry, hungry, and busy trying to prove he was still at the top of his game. The other deer was nowhere to be found in his thoughts.

[Scorn]

When the Zith charged, Scorn started to flap her wings, but she was torn between escape and defending her kill. Her indecision made her too slow to avoid the older Zith's wrath. She tried her best to defense herself from his attacks, trying to protect her more vital face and stomach with less vital limbs, but his skill was unbelievable. She'd never met anyone capable of this degree of brutality. Despite being in fear for her life, part of her was impressed. Not impressed enough to just hand over her kill, however. She understood the concept of sharing food of course; you didn't let your colony-mates go hungry just because you were luckier in the hunt than they. But she had never understood why the elders should get first pick of the meat. If it was her kill, she should get to eat it when she chose! Preferably while it was still warm and the blood gushed in delicious rivulets down her chin... Needless to say this attitude had gotten her into trouble in the past, and the only thing that had saved her from a harsh punishment was that the elder was loathe to seriously injure his own offspring. That, and her sister had almost always backed her up... The pang of lonliness was followed closely by a new rush of determination. Scorn soon came to the conclusion that if she did not do something quickly, her life could be in very real danger, and she'd never find her sister if she died here. She had an inkling of what was upsetting the older Zith, and so she decided that the best solution was to politely and rationaly explain her point of view in hopes that they could come to a mututal understandingm, "I saw it first! It's not my fault you're too stupid and slow to catch your own prey!" She wasn't sure exactly what sort of reaction he would have to such a line, but at worst she hoped he'd be distracted long enough for her to get away. She pulled up her knee and kick-clawed him in the stomach, wriggling backwards to get out from under him, clawing her way up his torso, not trying to avoid his face if it was still in the way. As soon as she had the slightest freedom, she flapped her wings, hard. She got high enough into the air that she would be able to take off, and if he made even the slightest move toward her, she would back away an equal distance. She was loath to leave her kill when she'd only had a few mouthfuls, but eat-now-and-die was slightly less efficient than live-and-eat-later.

[Massacre]

Squabbles between Zith were often short and brutal, and a Zith's mood could change as quickly as suddenly as the weather. Scorn struggled to get out from beneath Massacre, and Massacre struggled to keep her pinned down, neither of them holding anything back. It was not in their nature to hold back, but Scorn's words did manage to distract the older Zith for just a moment. When she spoke he paused, and there was a flash of something in his eyes, a moment of recollection, perhaps before the struggle resumed once more. It had been some time since Massacre had heard his own language. Even the Zith of the Spires often spoke in languages other than his native tongue, at least those few he had interacted with, since he usually met them when they were in the Jamoura camp and not out on their own. The words did distract him momentarily, and had they not been in the middle of a fight, they might have brought a smile to his lips. The young were always defiant. Massacre could remember himself at Scorn's age, and he was no different. What surprised him most of all, however, was the kick to the stomach. His distraction gave her the perfect opportunity, and Massacre was shoved back by the force of the blow, giving Scorn enough time to get out from under him and into the air. Massacre did not pursue her, and as was his nature, his mood shifted suddenly. The anger he felt before was replaced with curiosity, now that the source of his anger was out of reach and on the retreat, and Massacre wasn't ready to let her go just yet. His wings, which were tense and ready to lift him upward in pursuit, suddenly relaxed, and the rest of his body followed suit. Massacre eyed the other Zith curiously for a moment, then glanced at the deer, then back at her. He'd won the fight, in his eyes. It was she who was retreating, not he, and that was enough. He didn't want her to go, though. She was a Zith, she could possibly lead him to other Zith, and even if she couldn't he did not want to part company with another Zith. She was young, spirited, and had managed to steal his prey right from under his wings. Now that the fight was over, Massacre had a chance to be impressed. "We share then," Massacre said, the words on his lips tasting so sweet, since they were in his own language. In his eyes, sharing was not conceding to her in any way. It was keeping her there, which was what he wanted.. assuming she agreed. He moved over to the deer, taking a side opposite from where Scorn had already begun feeding, then dropped down and tore out a chunk for himself. The taste was sweet, and had the strong, familiar taste of the grasslands to it. It was a taste he missed, having lived elsewhere for so long, and even if deer wasn't his favorite meal it was the best he'd had in some time. Massacre made sure to keep an eye on Scorn, but his body was not tense, and he showed no signs of aggression. He would not react in any way if she chose to join him in the meal. Of course if she tried to attack him again, he would be ready for it.

[Scorn]

The instant it was clear that the older Zith did not intend to kill her, Scorn descended upon the carcass once more. Part of her was annoyed that he was still taking part of the kill even though he hadn't done anything. But she could hardly fight him off, and half a deer was a better meal than none. Still, she ate rapidly, shoving the bloody flesh down her throat, racing to get to the choicest bits before he could. It was only when the only meat left was scraps and her belly was starting to hurt that she slowed down. Now that her hunger had been addressed, her exhaustion hit her full force. She wanted to find a safe patch of grass and just curl up... But she couldn't be sure it was safe. That older Zith... he was still here, and as much as she wanted to trust him, he wasn't her family. She couldn't be sure he would watch out for her. She suddenly missed her sister more than ever. Scorn stared at Massacre with wary blue eyes, trying to persuade her tired limbs to flee if he proved dangerous. But at the same time, she had not seen another Zith since she'd left her colony, and she found herself craving the company. She opened her mouth to offer a civil greeting, "Next time kill your own meal instead of stealing mine."

[Massacre]

Massacre gorged himself on the deer, eating just as quickly and hungrily as Scorn was. He did notice that she went after the best parts first, and it was a bit of a competition between the two to see who could get what before the other. Luckily it did not turn into another all out brawl, but Massacre was intent on keeping the blue-eyed Zith there with him. He too was tired and ready to find a place to curl up for the coming day, but he wouldn't give in to sleep while his curiosity was focused on Scorn. He was already licking the last bits of blood and scraps off his claws and the fur of his hands when Scorn finally spoke up, accusing him of stealing her kill. His eyes locked with hers for just a moment, and then he glanced down at what was left of the deer and shrugged. "Next time defend it better." Massacre didn't want to fight anymore. That was the best response he could come up with, especially considering the civility of her own greeting. Massacre did not know anything about social niceties. He said what he thought, and if he wasn't thinking, he didn't say anything. Luckily, there were thoughts running through his head at that moment, otherwise it might have been a one sided conversation. "Where is your colony? Are they close by? I want to see them."

[Scorn]

Scorn wanted nothing more than to continue arguing about the kill, but she had nothing in response to the other Zith's flawless logic. Certainly, if they pitted skill against skill without any social conventions, she was as guilty of losing her kill as he was of taking it from her. Perhaps it was a good thing that Zith were capable of cooperating... maybe. It was true that she'd had to give up the tastier human meats ever since she started travelling alone... Luckily, the male changed the subject before Scorn was forced to concede the argument. Unluckily, the questions only made Scorn shift uncomfortably. "My colony... is somewhere. Sometimes they are near the big water, and sometimes they are near a place with many food-creatures that we can't attack because there are too many and they could kill us all so we pick them off when they leave in smaller numbers." She neglected to mention that she had no idea which direction to go to find her colony. She sniffed the air hopefully, even though she knew they were nowhere nearby. "They are...not around here." Talking about her colony was making her homesick, and thinking about going home only reminded her why she couldn't, not yet. She did not want to talk about her family anymore, so she turned the question back on him. "Where is your colony? Did they kick you out for being so useless?" She wasn't entirely sure why she felt the need to insult everyone she came across, but since it had been true of her for her whole life, she had long since stopped questioning the urge. She watched him with a frank curiosity, wondering how he would react to her as much as how he would answer her questions. A chilled winter breeze blew through Scorn's fur, and she shivered slightly before wrapping her wings tightly around herself. She missed the warmth of the Zith bodies of her family, but she shook off that thought. She was alone, and she just had to live without them for a while.

[Massacre]

Massacre listened quietly as Scorn talked about her colony. It was hard to tell, but they did not sound like a very large colony. He wondered what the dangerous animals might be, but he assumed they were Glassbeaks. The large birds were very dangerous, and trying to kill more than one at a time was suicide, even for a group of zith. The birds could jump very high, and were incredibly fast. Usually Massacre's colony avoided them, when possible, though there were a few occasions when some of the younger zith would try to hunt the birds to prove themselves to potential mates. When she asked about his own colony Massacre shook his head. Her insult was either ignored, or he simply did not notice. His mind drifted back to his colony, so long ago. The civilized people did not think Zith were capable of emotion, but they were terribly wrong. Zith experienced the full range of emotion, and often more passionately than any other race. Any time Massacre thought of his colony he was filled with sorrow and shame. "My colony is gone. We had grown, and the akalaks started hunting us. We killed many of them, but they came back again and again. We flew across the big water near their home.. but there were humans waiting for us on the other side." Massacre's mind flashed back to that day. He remembered his tribe being shot down out of the sky before they even had a chance to reach the shore. He remembered fighting on the ground and realizing he had no chance. His tribe was wiped out and there was nothing he could do about it. "They were different than normal humans. They shot us out of the sky, and when we tried to fight them, they tore us apart. Only a few of us escaped, but we went different ways, and I don't know what happened to them." Massacre finished cleaning the blood off his claws, falling silent for a bit. He was not really one for deep conversations and bonding, but she had asked about his colony, and he had answered. It had always been a sore subject for him. Once he was done he looked up at her once more. "If your colony is not here, where are you sleeping? All I could find was a big rock in tall grass."

[Scorn]

As soon as he uttered the first words, Scorn felt like she had received a blow to the heart. She hadn't seen her colony in a long time, but at least she had the knowledge that it was still out there, waiting for her to come back. To imagine a colony just being gone... she could not even fully imagine it. All she knew was that he was sad. Even if he did not act like it, she could feel it. Just imagining what she would feel like if that happened to her...and he must be feeling it a hundred times worse. (Not that it ever would; her father would never be foolish enough to endanger the colony. Despite the annoyance of many younger members of the colony, her father had always made sure they did not risk endangering the colony to the ones the slaves called "nights".) She listened quietly to his story, and when his eyes unfocused as he looked into the past, she found herself crawling toward him. As he finished his story, she leaned against him, offering the comfort of her presence in sympathy for his painful history. He asked her a question, signaling the end of his reminiscing, but she found she was too tired to move away, and too glad of the comfort of another Zith presence to give it up willingly. She reluctantly answered, "Most days I find a tree...but I haven't seen a tree all night. She shifted restlessly against him, trying to get comfortable. After a long pause, she finally said, "Maybe I will have to find a tall patch of grass, and curl up until I am small, and hope nothing stumbles across me."