[The Wolf's Cave] Monsters and Men [Laute]

[Ifran]

"Not entirely, no," he agreed. "Something else, but not entirely." His words twisted like a Dhani whore on silk sheets, not lying, but obfuscating the truth like it was a game of cat and mouse. He was sure the Zith would not like being a mouse to his cat, but he certainly wasn't going to play mouse to anyone. "Close to Xy," he mused, "which is to say close to some secret place on the Cyphrus prairie. Far from home, aren't you? What do you seek in Alvadas?" It was an honest question, even if he was attempting to tease information out of the monster of a man. The city of illusion seemed to subtle, to sophisticated a place for a creature that was more beast than civilized sentient. All the same, he was sure that Zith could be fun in the proper setting.

[Laute]

Laute didn't like the games of subterfuge that men played, the lies and deceits they mixed with the truth. There was no point to them and he saw no reason to play this game any longer. Simmering inside, the start of rage grew within him. It was starting simply--just mere annoyance but with time that could change.

As it is, he closed his eyes for a moment, trying to calm the the beast. It wouldn't do to show it within human settlements. As it was, he couldn't tame it fully, and an echo of irritation escaped through his voice. "What do you do?"

At the man's question, another swell of rage occurred at this uneven exchange.

Laute wouldn't lie, but perhaps he would pick up a thing or two from this man and only reveal the basics of what he was doing, only the partial truth. "Searching." He paused, realizing he could throw the question back, and the beginnings of a smile flickered across his face. "And you are far too--what are you doing here?"

[Ifran]

"I fight and sing for people's amusement," he said, simply enough. "And I am also searching. For knowledge. For power. For people." This was also as clear as he could be without explicating the complex power structure of Ahnatep and how he intended to return at some point and climb as high as he could, even to marry the Pressorah if luck and scheming should have it. The clever words of before were set aside; it was obvious the Zith liked them not at all and Ifran would rather speak to him for a few more minutes than not at all. He smiled back at the Zith's teeth-baring. One could like a Zith for their bluntness as well as the cunning.

[Laute]

An entertainer. It made sense, when Laute considered the way the man carried himself. His explanation was missing something, he knew, but he didn't care to know it. Curiosity satisfied, he turned his attention to the other occupants in the room, the other strange people that came for the night. Scents floated across the room--some strangely damp, others of smoke and burnt meat. Beneath them, he could sense other things--freshly-unearthed minerals, salty oceans, wild plains.

This city he wouldn't mind exploring for a while.

His slave was still sitting quietly beside him, his bag secure in her arms.

Keep her-- Laute blocked out the rest of the memory, it was not something he wanted to examine tonight. It was enough to remember he had to take care of her and that as most humans, she would probably be hungry by now.

Turning to his...conversational partner, he supposed, he asked, "What is there to order here?"

[Ifran]

Ifran was perfectly comfortable in stillness, much of his training rooted in it. He took the opportunity to observe the Zith while his attention was elsewhere, to observe the slave and the relationship between her master and herself, and to observe those around them as he had done before Laute sat beside him. "Mostly carnivorous fare," he promised, "considering the tastes of the majority of the clientèle. Simple fare, but filling. The fripperies are set aside for more civilized locales. "Don't worry," he said to the slave. "They will cook it for you."

[Laute]

Simple food, Laute had found, was always just that: simple. Some tasted better than others, but there was no complexity in design, in the method. Nothing to puzzle over when imitating. He could guess how it was cooked simply by smelling.

However weary of the fare he was, he knew at least tonight he would order it once more. His slave still needed to be fed and the day's journey was a rough one, without much time for proper hunting.

A slight movement drew his attention once more to his companion. Fluidly, each arm moved, despite the awkward angles, despite the lack of space. From one motion to the other, with no pause, no second guessing.

Aditi was used to her master's random jumps in thought but the stranger had no such luck. Without pause, Laute shifted his wings slightly, his arm stretching out. The dark fur gleamed in the light, his claws almost hidden in shadow.

"Can you use all of them equally?" Most humans, he knew, had a bias, but that was with two arms, not six. There was a sport he recalled seeing at a bar near a port, sailors dominating the scene as they waited for their ship to finish loading. A popular past time, especially between the stronger men, and it was something he wouldn't mind trying six times tonight. "Arm-wrestle?"

[Ifran]

"In theory, yes," he said, each arm moving slightly in turn as if he were testing the veracity of that statement. "But certain arms are better than others for different things, yet a train them all as equally as possible. One never knows which will be needed for what skill." His lips quirked a smile as he leaned forward, an elbow to the table and a hand taking the clawed one offered without fear. "Why not?"

[Laute]

There was no hesitation in the man's grip, only confidence, and Laute felt a grudging respect. There were few humans that would so easily take his hand. Even Aditi, for whatever experiences she had with his brother, still tensed when they were alone.

Clenching his hand over the man's--and through his fur, he could feel the man's heat, his warmth spreading over his own hand. Could feel the few callouses, most of his skin more smooth to the touch, flakes of skin like grains of sand minutely falling off. Gripping it, he waited for the count in before pushing fiercely.

Muscles straining, he felt the challenging power surging against his own. He should, Laute knew, conserve his strength. He only had two arms, his opponent had six. The call, though, sang through his blood, too strong to resist, and he gave a feral grin as he kept at it.

[Ifran]

Ifran was hardly human, as the multiple sets of arms might attest. If asked, he would say that the Eypharians were descendants of gods as well as men, even if the river god in question remained only in the Ukalas, his river long since diverted and dried up. Once the count was counted, he put all his might into the contest. He would not respect the Zith for doing any less, and knew the Zith would feel the same about him. They were both strong, but their musculature was different; his made room for all his arms, the Zith for wings; both were different from mere humans. His teeth were grit with an intense sort of smile, the baring of teeth between predators, and so they were mirrored in that too. Now it merely remained to see who would be the victor; who the alpha male, and who the subservient.

[Laute]

A tough contest--he relished it. The small beads of sweat that rolled down the man's arm, Laute's own sweat damping his fur until it was a shade darker than normal. It was a sticky, hot sensation, the mixture of the scent and their own energy. Careful with his claws for it would not do to accidentally destroy his opponent's arms, Laute pressed on, his grip firm.

This was harder than he expected, for each of his arms there were three to compete against. Alternating between both arms, he held fast against his opponent. As they approached the last two matches, his expression was more strained, his arms sorer.

This man was stronger than he expected and deserved credit. Still, Laute was a hunter by trade and these grievances were minor things. Used to pain, he ignored it until they finished the match.