Completed [Temple of Viratas] An Alternative Method

[Scorn]

90th Fall, 513 Scorn had been miserable lately, and Scourge could tell. Scorn was used to expressing her moods through violence, but she was in an environment where that was a disadvantageous course of action...which of course only contributed to her misery. Scourge has assimilated to Kalinor's culture much better than her grey twin, and she suggested Scorn might try the native's way of making themselves feel better. From what Scorn could tell, this involved going to an enclosure where their "god" lived. She had been told that Viratas, the god of Blood, would answer her "prayers" which were apparently like what you do when you want to ask for help or something. Scorn approached the large pool of blood with a skeptical frown. So this was "Viratas"? Doubtfully, she started speaking, somewhat awkwardly. She spoke in her native tongue; something this important was too good for the slave tongue. She did not thing the Zith had a word for Viratas, but she made due combining "blood" with their word for the Great Rending, the thing that had brought Zith into existence. "Great Blood, I need help. I want to go home, to be with family, to be among Zith. But I cannot leave my sister here, and she won't leave because she's afraid of being alone. She won't make the journey back home, even if I'm with her. How do I make her see that we have to be among our own kind?" She waited for a moment, almost expecting an answer. When, predictably, none came, she scoffed and growled, "This is stupid." She turned to leave, even more irritated than before.

[Aranta]

Aranta was cautiously exploring this new city-- one that one of the spider-people had told him was called 'Kalinor'-- when he approached what he had been informed was the temple, which, as far as he could figure, was where the spider-people went to tell their wishes to a pool of blood. How a pool of blood could grant one's wishes, Aranta had no idea, but he was curious. And a curious Zith always satisfies his curiosity.

As he approached the pool, Aranta could hear someone speaking in his native tongue. His ears perked up, and he followed the sound until he came within sight of another Zith-- a female. "Hello," he greeted, stepping forward.

[Viridae Kabre]

The day had been long, to say the least. Viridae had spent the majority of it tracking a cougar, and at the end of the line, the beast was long dead, being picked at by ravens. The sky overhead began to shed tears, and at that point, Viridae had decided to return home.

The entire walk, he could not pull his mind from his dream. From Viratas, scolding his lack of gratitude. The signs were not good. Had he forgotten to give thanks to the god of his people? Was he not fulfilling his God's desires?

Upon reaching the temple, Viridae's head was already spinning with questions, repentance, and an opening to be forgiven. But entering the temple, he heard a sound unfamiliar to him. It almost sounded like....birds? Bats? No. He knew exactly what it was. The same sound he had heard at the Mascarade. Zithanesse.

Although he had shed his bow and armor on the way home and pulled on his hunting jacket, Viridae still had his knife on him, and he hoped that was enough. As he rounded a wall of delicately fluttering silk, he crouched and slowly approached and alter, kneeling behind it to watch the Zith more closely. This place was sacred to his people. And although he had no problem with the Zith being in the city, this place was sacred. The pool they knelt before was composed of the blood of HIS ancestors, NOT theirs.

[Scorn]

Scorn flinched upon realizing that her foolishness had been observed, but when she saw that it was a strange Zith who found her first, she froze, unsure what to make of this new development. It seemed... odd, that she should be wishing for more Zith and have a new one appear before her eyes. Suspicious almost. Was this one real, or a trick being played on her, taunting her desperation? She eyes the newcomer suspiciously. He smelled Zith-ish... "Where did you come from?" she asked, half-demanding. She could hardly dare to hope that there might be a colony nearby. So far, the Zith she'd met here were alone, separated from their colonies for one traumatic reason or another. It seemed only the lost and alone were desperate enough to seek shelter and companionship among these...stick creatures. Scorn tried not to dwell on how far into despair she herself had fallen. A soft sound nearby briefly caught her attention, but from the scent it was only one of the stick men. This one she vaguely recognized. Laute was friendly with it, so it seemed unlikely to be an immediate threat. And Laute had gotten...uppity last time she'd threatened a slave of his, so she decided to just ignore the encroaching presence.

[Viridae Kabre]

Viridae inched closer to the pool and closed his eyes, as he pulled his knife from its thigh holster. Slowly he rose his left arm over the pool and held it level with the surface, drawing his sleeve up a little so as to expose his forearm.

"Moz seh krevas dav'ene" He said, snapping his eyes open and fixing them suspiciously on Scorn. He recognized her form to be distinctly feminine, but still wasn't sure which of the two she was. It didn't matter really.

With his eyes still fixated on her, Viridae ran the blade down the side of his upper forearm, and felt hot blood rush in a spiral down his arms, dripping from the tips of his black claws into the pool.

His eyes snapped to the other Zith, this one he had never seen before. Suddenly, he felt his heart lighten. How they must feel, alone in these tunnels. Many times Viridae had heard of how lonely harvests could be, in a city, isolated with limited numbers of your own kind.

"You must give an offering," He said quietly, looking back to Scorn. His common was thick coated in thick Symenos, and he tried to keep his tone even, and just above a whisper. "Not into the pool, but perhaps into a vial or a jar. Blood must be spilt. Nothing is free."

He looked away then, back to the pool, and prayed to Viratas in quiet and quick Symenos. After finishing, Viridae remained on his knees and studied the surface of the thick liquid, within held the prayers of many generations of his people. All that time ago, His people had turned to Viratas. And if they could do it, why not the Zith?

[Aranta]

Aranta studied the female Zith standing before him; her coloring was similar to his own, and she seemed... almost like she was nervous about something. "My colony is not far from here; it is just my family," he replied. "I came because I was curious about other people." He tilted his head to the side. "And you?" he asked. Before she could respond, however, one of the spider-people-- Symenestras, Aranta reminded himself-- stepped out and seemed to be explaining to them how the pool worked. Aranta watched as the Symenestra bled directly into the pool, murmuring what the Zith assumed to be a wish or prayer in Symenos, too quick for Aranta's feeble grasp on the language to translate. When the Symenestras was done, he stayed kneeling by the pool, and Aranta turned back towards the female Zith.

"Do you know what he was doing? I have not witnessed this ritual before." He waited for her answer, looking her steadily in the eye.

[Scorn]

Most of the stick-man's words did not make sense to Scorn, but what she understood was that their blood god wanted "blood spilt" before he was going to do anything for her. But if that meant intentionally injuring herself, they could forget it. That was purposeless and foolish. However... blood was not an uncommon sight among Zith. Zith spilled each other's blood all the time, either because they had a dispute, or just for practice or fun... This new Zith was rather convenient, considering. She did not know him at all, and fighting was one of the best ways to get to know someone new (her second-favorite method, in fact). Having practically received the blessing of the sitck man, she prepared to fight. Scorn gave the new Zith one high-pitched screech of warning before she lunged at him, swiping towards his chest with her claws.

[Aranta]

Aranta could almost see the other Zith's mind working, and he tensed, wondering what the new, determined look on her face meant. He soon had his answer.

Aranta let out a screech when the female turned on him, dodging to the side barely in time so that her claws caught his arm and not his chest. Anger flashed through him, and Aranta snarled, springing towards the female with his wings flared and his own claws outstretched. IN the back of his mind, he was dimly aware of the fact that the Symenestra was still in the chamber, and he almost worried that the spider-man would be offended, but that was quickly buried. He had been challenged, and he intended to meet the challenge.

[Viridae Kabre]

No. They couldn't be such simple minded creatures that they thought they could fight here, the sacred temple of his god. The resting place of his ancestors. Viridae did not know any Zithanese, but he tried his hand at it, imitating a sound he heard Scorn make at the mascarade to Laute then she was in distress...what was it? A screech...then a few clicks. He made the sound, clicks far slower than what they had done, and placed a hand on the chest of both Zith, straining to pull the creatures apart.

"Not here," he said in slowly in common, straining as they scratched his forearms. "Never here." He stood between the two, and ache building in his fragile and flexible bones. "My family rests here. Wouldn't want to wake them."

He circled to the pool and knelt at its side. He liked Zith, but incidents like this caused him to view them as children. They we're strong, and cunning, but they had the curiosity and innocence of children. And while most woukd over look it, Viridae would not. He enjoyed talking to them, and exchanging culture.

"Do your people not have a god?"

[Scorn]

The stick man was extremely foolish to get between two competing Zith. Angrily, she struck him across the face with the back of her hand. Then she recalled her earlier conclusion, and worrying about what Laute would think, she backed away. She frowned as he began making strange noises. Had she broken the stick man? Would Laute be annoyed? Then it began speaking in the slave tongue, and she relaxed. It was not broken after all, at least not permanently. She concentrated on his words: apparently his clan was sleeping here (an odd time of day to be sleeping), and he didn't want to face the wrath of his elders if he disturbed their slumber. Understandable, Scorn would allow. Still, she was annoyed that her spar had been interrupted. She would not feel settled until she'd had a chance to finish what she'd started. With a slight smirk she murmured to the new Zith, "The stick man fears his elders. Let us meet again in the sky, like Zith." But for now, the stick man was still talking. She frowned. There was that word again, the one she'd been unable to translate very well. "I do not understand 'god'. Explain."