Wife Me, Knife Me

[Kadarus]

Season of Fall, Day 12
Pig's Foot Tavern
Private, Tag: Render

The people in Sunberth didn't seem to like him. The glares and spitting had seemed to begin happening after his rather anticlimactic forfeit in the cage at Tall Johnny's. The crowd had cried, screamed, and gambled on blood, and what they'd gotten was one very miffed wingless zith beating very briefly on a kelvic who hadn't backed his running mouth. Oh, how they'd booed and hissed, despite feasting their eyes on her ample, deliciously rounded curves, and the blood that had come from the bouncer of the casino, who now stuck out like a fat tick on a starving dog. Thanks to Astoiredea, he had to wear a facemask everywhere, because his skin terminated in a ragged ridge of shiny, hard scar tissue, displaying his gruesome tobacco stained gums and teeth.

So it was slightly refreshing, the attitude that he got from Merv, the bartender at the Pig's Foot. The hulking man had growled his angry greeting at him, given him a mug of beer for a half a miza, then turned and gave the exact same welcome to the next scumbag that drug himself onto the barstool next to Kadarus. Unable to help himself, the hunter had given a little smile of amusement, then took a swig of his drink. Instantly, his stomach grumbled in protest as the brew passed over his tongue; when he lowered the mug, he scowled at it's sharp, bitter flavor, and when he burped, he tasted a faint hint of....soap.

It would be a liar or a fool to claim they'd come to Sunberth for the good cuisine and drink. The one plate of food he'd chanced to try had been given to him cold. The gravy that the beef had been dressed in was discolored, and beginning to congeal. The bread was a hard crust, spotted with gray. People came to Sunberth for a reason though, and it was something, at the moment, he both appreciated and cursed. While he enjoyed not being hassled by guards about carrying his sword in plain sight (honestly, where else was he supposed to keep it?), those same guards were absent to keep some prick from digging a dagger into his back. He was sure someone among the dozens that had watched the fight wanted to - though, who knows? Perhaps none of them lost any money. From what he'd heard, Astoiredea had been at the Casino for a while, making messes in the cage often. Still, he kept his ears pricked and alert as he used the other half of his miza to get Merv to refill his mug.

A couple of hours passed in grim silence as he drank down another four beers. He was surprised to realize he was feeling a little fuzzy; the Sunberth brew had a little more kick to it than he judged, he supposed. Waving a very annoyed looking Merv over again, he laid down two mizas with his thumb, making them click sharply on the counter, then jabbed at the ceiling. "Yeh, screw off," the giant of a man growled, sweeping the money into one huge ham fisted paw, and trudged off. With a grunt, Kadarus rose off the bar stool, carrying his mug - it was cheap ceramic, and would surely be collected in the morning, anyway - and made the long climb up the staircase. His shoulders just barely squeezed between the walls; either Merv had someone else tend to the upstairs, or he had to walk sideways up the narrow steps. The hunter chuckled quietly to himself.

At the top of the landing, he turned and walked down the hallway. Perhaps he was just being paranoid, but vacant or not, he didn't want the room at the top of the steps. It felt to him, like asking for a knife in your heart. Instead, he chose the fourth door on the left, and cursed as the knob didn't budge. Taking another drink of his beer, Kadarus reached to the right, and was pleased when the knob turned, and the door opened. The rooms were barely wider than the staircase. Squeezing inside, he shut the door and locked it, finishing off his drink and setting the mug on the floor. The room was completely undecorated. A stand with a half melted candle by the bed. When he sat down on the mattress, he winced a bit; it was too firm, and rather lumpy. Shrugging, he stripped down to his pants and belt, setting his clothes aside in neat piles.

The blanket was moth eaten and stank slightly of mold. It didn't matter to him. He crawled under it, and lay there for a while, in his usual position; legs straight, arms at his side. He could feel his throwing knives, cold insurance on his waist, and for some time he laid there, tracing the edges of the ones he could reach, until finally finally he fell into light, dreamless sleep.

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There was really no one who could deny her. When the night fell and she came to call there was nothing amiss from the woman, it took but a look, to the barkeeps, and the bouncers, a shake of head, or a pause. It was clear to all whom she sought. And she found him, with hardly a glance, his scent lingered here, and a look to the keep, offered little tells until she neared.

A scowling jaw rose as the diminutive woman neared, but she needed no guide to follow this scent as she climbed the stairs and softly padded down the hall. Her hand hovered over the door knob before her palm closed over the knob. It was locked. How amusing. It did not stay that way for long. The Zith closed the door softly behind her, the edge of her cloak closed within the door to keep it closed now.

The familiar form lay sleeping in his bed, smelling of sweat, blood, and alcohol. It was not the way she envisioned their reunion, yet then again she had not a clue of alcohol until this year. It made her hunting easier that much she could be thankful for, and sent wakeful sleeper into a tumbling abyss. It was such a dangerous thing in a place like this. One had no idea the creatures that prowled the night lit halls.

The coverings were drawn aside as the Zith neared the bedside and from her lightly furred shoulders her cloak fluttered to the ground. From her arms she slid off the red fabric that covered the essentials the sheep preferred. There she stood with no human trappings as she normally would, her nakedness was hardly a shameful thing until that year, but for a night it would be perfection. Her hands moved
With care, the knives not missed but of little importance as flesh were exposed.

Warmth spread with a surprisingly pink tongue before pale lips closed over flesh, she paused eyes upon the sleeping form as a groan fled his lips and her own released before slowly, a slender form stole across mattress and the male it held. It was an old skill, well practiced and enjoyed. At least, once upon a time, it had been. Pleasuring her Kadarus, receiving his pleasure as well. It was time to set aside whatever meat feud the Kelvic held for her, to return back to the times of before. They fell apart, but they could make a new start.


Her body while willing, for a moment almost felt unable, before moisture to slicken flesh met. Her lips were gentle upon his neck and ear, desire mingled with affection brought playful kisses as the male roused and her body moved more deliberately. Her free hand dropped away the last knife to the rented room floor as lips pressed to the vital, sensual place upon his neck.

[Kadarus]

An hour, five minutes, a quarter of an hour; Kadarus had no idea how long he had been dozing, but he knew it had not been long; he could still feel the waqrm daze of beer clouding his mind. The hunter groaned, his mind rapidly coming back to the land of the waking, vaguely aware that someone was hitting him - repeatedly. But there was no pain, or the feel of fresh, hot, flowing blood, the exact opposite, in fact. Nearly every muscle in his body tensed, and he heard a little gasp. In the dark of the run down room of the Pig's Foot tavern, a wolf snarled, angry at the intrusion, despite the pleasure threatening to to steal the breath from his throat.

One of his hands stole to his waist, searching for one of the knives. They were all but useless in close combat against another armed foe, but against an intruder, shoved into the neck, it would work fine. But he felt nothing but his own bare waist, unsurprised to feel his fingers brush against a warm thigh. Finally, his gold eyes snapped open, his lips peeled back from his strange, bestial teeth.

At first, for a slight, drunken moment, he thought the small form above him was another prostitute from the town, who had taken the key from Merv to give out her services for coin without need for questions or offers. But then, his inhuman eyes grew used to the dark, and the woman drew away from his neck to look into his face. Immediately he sat up, pushing her back into a sitting position. "Astoiredea?! What are you - ngh - what are you doing here?! Get the -" One of the zith's soft hands slapped over his mouth, and the other upon his chest, pushing him back down to the bed.

He couldn't help but feel some anger; after all, it reminded him too much of that final year in the colony, when he had denied her everytime she'd come to him. Her answer was one full of loud noises and violence, often beating his head off the ground in order to daze him. But this time, she'd managed to catch him drunk, careless. His first instinct was to fight her off, push her away, as he shoved his palms against her stomach. Instead of stopping, she laid her hands gently beside his neck, then set her thumb claws against his throat in warning. Astoiredea merely smiled in response as he began to growl angrily...such a familiar sound.

Soon though, the courage found him to sit up again, shrugging aside her warning. But instead of struggling to throw her off now, he wrapped his arms around her body, pulling her in close to him. His fingers brushed against the snarled recess of her scar upon her back, and he felt her tense before his hand rose to weave itself into her blood red hair. The hunter pressed his face against her neck, forgetting his fear of bonding, forgetting his hate of her kind. One of her hands found the back of his neck, touching the scar she'd carved there almost half a decade ago. The zith tipped her head back, and he kissed her throat.

Moments later, the lips drew back for a moment from her fur, and he kissed her ear, his hot breath a gasp upon the lobe. Then, his hand locked down upon her hair as his teeth found the rise of her shoulder, muffling the cry from his throat.

They were misfits, the broken, the unwanted, needing each other's warmth in the night - something he had been denying for a handful of years.

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He gave over to her, to them, and for a moment they were whole. For a moment, they were one. And there was forgotten bliss and safety.


Dark eyes looked out from her makeshift cave of bed coverings as she watched the Kelvic don his clothing once again. Morning had came in a cry of pain, and while the curtains had thankfully be drawn the Zith female could not truly venture out to the room without squinting, so upon the bed she remained, watching as the male wordlessly dressed.
He did not return to her side, did not look to her, speak to her, but looked to the wall as clothing was pulled back upon his body covering the new marks of their passions.

The scene was too familiar, as was the sensation that again the Kelvic would not return again. It would not be her leaving, returning to an empty room, but staying behind to never have him return. It was a strange feeling she felt rarely. When her brother fell, when the old Tomas slave passed, when the kelvic first left. It was such a consuming feeling. Like a wounded feeling to the chest, or being lost alone in the night sky.

“Which do you like better, Master or Wife?” The words were softly spoken although the curiosity that rode upon the air with them was genuine; it was a human habit she picked up before the pair had met, to fill the silences between them at times, with questions. A tell to her own uncertain emotions.

"Neither! Are you insane? Passing acquaintance will work...master is something I will call no one, woman or man, anymore. I broke my bonds. I freed myself. And wife...well, you're not. I don't know what kind of odd human customs you've been looking upon, but there's no reason to be thinking of calling yourself that, Astoiredea."

“You bear my mark, we have exchanged ‘rings’, you have been my mate in all ways that matter for a countless number of seasons.” The voice from the blanket sounded, affronted from the male’s tone and with little shifting the lightly furred had slid to the sun lit room, and the glint of metal shone more brightly in the day, than it had the night before in the dark, or even in the cage, although it had been there then, and days longer.

"That's not how it works, Astoiredea. There are ceremonies involved, witnesses, holy men...besides; I didn't leave that ring for...for marriage." Kadarus frowned, worry kneading slight lines across his brow. He had mostly forgotten about that little piece of scrap that had made his fingers bleed so badly, trying to shape it. "Just giving a ring isn't how the process works. I think. Human practices are confusing. I think they call that engagement. And both parties have to consent, to that."

“You have consented in leaving the ring, yes? And, I consent, so, we are now engaged? How does it differ from being married, or you simply being my mate as before? Witness’ we have plenty, the entire colony has witnessed us, and knew well you were my chosen.”

"And the ceremonies? Holy men?"

“The blood alone I have spilt shall be our ceremony and for two godless beings we have no need of holy men. How ever tasty they now sound.”

Kadarus groaned; he'd forgotten how difficult it was to talk to her about anything sensible. She was too much a creature of instinct. The only way to truly reach her was to be blunt, but doing so now would probably have her claws in his stomach.

"Argh...whatever then, whatever pacifies you. Gods, you're impossible. I have to go buy a few things. I'll be back later."

Dark eyes regarded Kadarus as the figure fell silent for a moment beneath the blanket fingers worried the ring. Sleep beckoned her in these daylight hours, but this was far from her comfort, and too well lit, but there was nothing she could do. Like there was nothing she could do to keep the male within the room with her. He said he would return, so he would, but still that longing came to keep him near.

“I will wait.” Her voice finally replied as the door behind him began to shut.

[Kadarus]

Muttering, Kadarus struggled down the death trap of a staircase, trying in what felt like vain to settle his hat upon his head. When he stepped into the lower level of the Pig's Foot, he was only mildly surprised to see every soul from the night before there. Many had collapsed on top of their tables or the counter, dark stains trickling down their pants. While not completely a man of restraint - the night prior was evidence enough of that - the hunter had never allowed himself to get so drunk and sloppy that he didn't care that he was pissing himself.

Down the bar, Merv spied him over his ugly hooked nose and stomped across the floor, looking extremely irritated at the lateness of the kelvic's awakening. Kadarus paused, dug two more miza out of his pocket, and dropped them into the titanic, bear like palm that was shoved into his face. He imagined that whether he was renting the room for Astoiredea to sleep in, or still leaving, the tender would have force him to give up another two peices, anyway.

"Hey! Hey! What was all that commotion last night, eh?" Scowling the hunter looked around the tavern, badly lit with grimy sunbeams through unwashed windows - then finally looked down, at the Pycon jabbing her little clay fist into his ankle. "You dog. It's about time, too, I was about to take your money and just buy you a bunch of whores. You can be so bitchy. I bet you're a regular ray of sunshine now, eh?"

"Where the fust have you been?" His tone was sharp and annoyed; it bothered him that Finn knew what he'd done last night, and if he got it out of her that she'd somehow climbed up to the window and spied on them, he'd stomp her into a clay pancake.Without invitation, Finn climbed his pantleg, scaled the side and back of his jacket, then came to rest on his shoulder with a releived little sigh.

"Oh, down here, playing cards, trying to get drunk."

"You don't have a stomach. Or blood to carry the alcohol," Kadarus reminded her shortly. He knew a few things on the race of little animated statues, thanks to his companion, but he didn't care to know much. He knew they didn't need to eat, breathe, or sleep, though he knew they could get pregnant, which was a topic he never cared to discuss with her, considering how tastefully she'd most likely approach it. Turning from Merv, Kadarus began to walk towards the tavern's door, trying to remember where the stores were in Sunberth.

"So, who is she?"

"It's a long story," he replied, fidgeting with his hat again.

"You told me a long story, when you were gonna die under that tree. You didn't mention any wingless Zith wives though!"

"Wife? She's not my damned wife!"

"I happened to spy that cruddy ring on her finger, Kadarus. Only you'd be dumb enough to think that was a good thing to give to someone." The hunter said nothing in reply, but in the agitated manner that he threw the door open, Finn knew to shut up.
_____

Kadarus stood for a moment at the door of his - their - room, staring at the frame. Specifically, he was looking at broken, clawed chunks of wood that Astoiredea had torn from it to get at the lock. It rang so loudly of something she would do; if there was a problem, or an obstacle in her path, she'd bludgeon, bite, slash, and gouge whatever it was until it was destroyed or bleeding at the side of her path. It was slightly worrying that, even part animal that he was, she behaved more upon her instincts, was a simpler creature. With a sigh, hed opened the door and stepped inside.

Just as when he left, she was wrapped in a cocoon of blankets and bedsheets, far from the sun that stung her eyes so badly. Again, like in the cage, he felt that annoying, soft stir in his heart; she was so much like a child, in her ways, and some absurd, stupid part of him still wanted to sheild her from the barbs of the world. The hidden blades in his new cloak clinked together quietly as he moved, and the fur of the new hide mail at his throat was only slightly uncomfortable; part of him had a thrill of it, reminding him of the fur that covered his entire body, in his other self. The hat he'd once wore evbery was given away on a whim to scrawnt man in rags.

Setting his hands on the edge of the bed, the hunter lowered himself to the floor, and in a little peephole of her makeshift, musty blanket cave, he could see her hair; darker it seemed now, in the dimness of the room. Kadarus pulled away an edge of the blankets, and she flinched away immediately, her eyes closed. "Hey. Wake up. I've got something for you. She groaned, then stirred a bit beneath, rustling the mass of cloth loudly, and yawned, not opening her eyes. From his pocket, he produced a pair of snow guards; opaque, glass goggles, with a slit cut in the center of the lenses. They weren't the most practical of solutions, but they were the only thing he could find. He set them on the bed near her.

"These ought to keep you from walking into walls in the daylight hours."

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A voice called to her, pulling her towards the eyes slowly opened to see a familiar face, Kadarus had returned, and came with gift. An object was placed just outside of her makeshift cave and a lithe hand quickly pulled it within the darkness. It was hard to touch, her fingers brushed over the edges and cord before quickly bringing it to her lips.

She sniffed the object, the touch was too hard, the taste unappealing, and the smell revolting, and it was rejected from the shelter, rolling back out upon the mattress.

“That is not food.”

Beneath the sheets the woman rolled back over with another yawn braving the light to sit upright for a moment, “It is too early, come back to sleep.” Clawed hands reached for the Kelvic as the cover covered woman neared the bed edge letting it drape over the male. Her touch was gentle as lingering, her sleepy kiss hovered upon his lips as fingers gently traced over sensitive skin. She pulled back, she had no idea what that object was he brought her, and her curiosity would pique for it, later, but now, he had returned, and the woman simply wanted her mate to return to sleep with her. She was gentle, almost sweet when not pushed to tested, when locked away from the rest of the world private cavern that was hers.

Her hands pulled lightly releasing as Kadarus stood and hands rose to the clasp of his cloak. She moved back beneath the blanket shifting as the body bedded down, her body climbing back upon his, the smaller figure laid her head upon his chest eyes drifting shut at the familiar sound of a strong beat beneath her ear and familiar scent that held too much in the ways of joys and pains to simply be released.

“When does an engagement become a marriage?”

"I don't know," Kadarus replied slowly, staring up at the water stained ceiling, feeling a bit annoyed upon the realization that he was drowsy. While he would perhaps not admit it even upon the pain of death, there was a certain amount of comfort and security that Astoiredea brought back to his world, though he still preferred his usual sleepless four days and nights before an eventual collapse from exhaustion. The kelvic's eyelids fluttered, and his voice was thick and careful. "I never cared to delve into the customs of people. Or ceremonies. I'm not the person to ask."

"Then how are we not married? It is, exasperating." There was silence for a a moment, the woman rubbing her face to the chest she laid upon with a soft sigh. The concept, frustrating to the sleepy mind, not all her thoughts were so easy to put to words, while a life with the Kelvic and Tomas improved her common, there was something missing from learning the language and living its meanings.

Truthfully to be a mate and to be married sounded far similar to each other yet now, it was complicated. All knew Kadarus was hers, her property, her lover, her mate. And that honestly was enough for the Zith. But he sought to claim her in human fashion and she accepted and did try to understand, truely she did. To do her part as his. Human were so difficult.

"Just...stop worrying about it, Render." He knew he was being blunt, and a little unfair to her, though he hoped the little term of affection, dredged up from their youth, would soften it. He only understood the ways of the world just slightly better than she did, and it was a tiring to him to explain everything as his day to day life was. His body would break down and die from this newly added facet of stress, if she kept on about it. With barely a conscious thought behind it, one of his arms wove around her body and came to rest upon her back, his fingers laying lightly across her painful scar. "Forget the ring, and the state of our affairs...I want to know what happened to your wings. And if you killed whoever did it to you, if it wasn't an accident."

Her body relaxed and at peace went ridged at the stray brush of fingers, it took her a moment of silence to try and soften her body upon his once more, even then it was not the same as it was before. The pads of her fingers touched upon his shirt, and her body shifted upon his as if seeking a more comfortable position although that hardly was the case.

“They are gone.”The words were simply, quietly said and for another moment there was silence as the zith nuzzled her face to the kelvic’s chest.

“I worried he would find you before I could, it was very hard to lay there and try to heal knowing you were hurt and alone, and being hunted without knowing.

It was not a accident though, at least the first one. The other… I took. I could not bare to break it again and have it heal wrong again. It hurt so much already. It felt worse, it was slower and my own hand had to do the damage.”

Kadarus' face became grim then, the contentment and drowsiness fleeing from it. He knew that the Zith had come hunting for him, after he'd managed to escape, bleeding, exhausted, perhaps dying, but he hadn't known one had been singled out - aside from her. She didn't go into much detail, whether it was because the memory was still painful, or whether she was too tired to divulge, he couldn't say. He didn't press the matter, either. She was a woman of extremes; loving, harmless, and doting, as she was now, or cold, wrathful, and bloodthirsty, as she had been in the cage.

"He? Hmm. Let him come then, now that I know he has been several paces behind me. I am more than ready and more than happy to give him his dues. I would have preferred to know I was being hunted, it makes it all the more enjoyable...when we find him, by our fate or his, we'll kill him together. And I will take his wings." Kadarus let sleep make his eyes heavy again, though slumber eluded him, for a short time more. Excitement had sped his heart beat up slightly; surely, she could feel it. His hand slowly stroked her back, giving comfort as he once had before.

"You don't need to worry over me. I'm not the stupid gawking boy you stole away to the colony, anymore."

"You are mine. That means I look after your care, your protection as it always has your pains are mine, your enemies, are mine. I would be a poor mate to not try and find you, to at least be at your side when danger is near. It just took longer." The woman shifted beneath the touch a mixture of the urged to protect her back and give into the sensation that drew out the good feelings and beckoned sleep nearer.

The sound of his heart beneath her ear, his touch upon her skin, his scent wrapped around her, brought piece even with the beams of light right outside, slumber stole back over the pair, and into it, she fell willingly.

[Kadarus]

As the sun began to set, Kadarus stirred at the salmon colored, gading light, blinking blearily at the slash of sun glaring in his eyes past the tattered curtains. Frowning, he squirmed out from beneath the still slumbering Zith, who had drooled ever so slightly and elegantly in her sleep on his chest. With an uncharacteristic good day's rest, the hunter found himself rather more level headed, missing that gentle, pleasant haze of nostalgia. Sliding to the edge of the lackluster tavern bed, he glanced back at her, digging into his pack for his tobbacco box. That lonely little stump branching from her shoulder blade twitched, almost rhythmically, and he felt an uncomfortable stab of guilt peirce his stomach like a knife of ice.

She had told him that he - whoever he was - had taken them, and from the remnants, had done so without care or mercy. Kadarus could only assume that somehow, he'd had a hand in her grounding, subtle push on the wheel of fate that had led to Astoiredea losing her badge of honor, her mark of vanity and pride. Now scowling, he pulled a wad of tobacco out of the box as soon as he found it, then dug into his pocket for a paper, which he found far easier. He struggled in vain to focus on the task, but failed miserably; he could only think of the nameless crippler, of her loss and shame.

As much time as he spent among the Zith, he knew what role vanity played in their society. The males fled in self imposed exile if scarred too badly, often rather than face their shame. Kadarus knew this, because once he had finished bludgeoning the male who had come for Astoiredea, and to relieve her of her little "pet", the Zith had lost most of his teeth, and the hunter had cut his face in several places. The Zith had wailed pitiously and annoyingly, hurting Kadarus' ears with his caterwauling until the hunter had finally reverted in his bloodlust to the massive wolf, and tore the thing's throat out, which he had presented to Asteroidea herself, a macabre mass of bloody gore. But the females...a male would rather have even a disfigured mate, than no mate at all, and that told volumes to him of the sleeping woman's trials and tribulations.

His cigarette lit, and slowly waking him up with the harsh, acrid smoke in his lungs, he got up, pulling on the vest of hide mail he'd bought, before trudging down into the tavern itself. Sitting down at the bar know felt quite a bit safer; anyone who tried to bury their grief and blade into his back would be noticed in plenty of time. Merv gave his usual disaffected, foul tempered greeting, glanced towards the stairs, then jabbed two fingers at the hunter. Kadarus shook his head, setting down only one miza. "Beer. Not staying another night," he all but muttered, and the tender growled something obscene and stomped away.

A moment later, he felt pressure at his elbow and glanced down to find Finn leaning against it. "All right. So. We ain't had a job in almost a week, Kadey boy. Now that you're done getting your rocks off, think we can move on?"

"I don't know." Merv slammed the mug down in front of him so hard that he wondered if the ceramic had cracked at all, watching emotionlessly as the dark swill sloshed over the lip and spilled down the sides. "It depends on Astoiredea," he added, before reaching out and taking the mug, enjoying a deep drink from it. Now that he knew he was being hunted, adding her to his travelling party seemed a logical decision enough; she was as much bait as he was, and he was eager to turn the game around on his puruer, and be waiting with sword in hand when the man caught up.

"It what?!" The Pycon screeched, staggering away from his arm in all her little theatric glory. "Are you fusting crazy, mutt? What could we possibly need her for?!"

"Think of it as a two for one. We'll get bigger, higher paying jobs with two heads than we would have with just one. We could use the help. And she's told me there is someone following in my path." He gave that information easily, without lie and as blunt as he usually did, and the Pycon groaned, turning around and collapsing to the counter, leaning against his elbow. Kadarus set his mug down, and drew in another deep lungful of the vitalizing, sharp smoke.

"You gotta be kidding...and where she, eh? We got a lot to work out with this deal, then."

"Still sleeping. Should be awake, soon," he replied quietly, turning his eyes topwards the staircase in expectation.

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The steps were light upon the stairs as the figure walked with easy sway that could easily be marked as ‘come hither’ although one knew simply, that was how she walked. She walked with passion, made eyes turn to her, spoke usually with confidence that made you believe what she said, even if you never seen what she spoke of.

If she had been human, she still would have been a man-eater, but as a Zith, she was a man eater.

The zith cleaned the fur of her fingers with a pink tongue cleaning away the crimson drops before forgoing the cleaning ritual as she neared the bar, the kelvic and his tiny clay companion. She did not look to Merv as a cup was slammed upon the counter, it was nothing but water but it made more sense when the zith dipped her fingers into the waters.

She smelled of blood not faintly but much, death as well, and beneath that the warm mingled scents of her own, kade and the slightly molded bed. Red smears painted around her mouth, and as faint as they were being washed away with wet fingers.

“It was very thoughtful of you to send me breakfast in bed. Even gave it a blade, it was very sweet of you Kadarus. A warm up and breakfast.

It seems you are not very popular, darling.” The sweet words gave way to a more serious tone that confirmed that the zith female truly was not as simple as she sometimes behaved.

“If you said you were just going to the bar, I would have stayed upstairs to enjoy my meal a bit longer. I hate to eat and run. Now it’s probably cold.” Her tone had lightened towards the end again as she sat upon the stool.

The cloak Astoirdea carried over her elbow was clean of fresh blood and shaken out before being put around her shoulders and smoothed into place around her obscuring sight of the nubile body.

“Now, it is night, what is this?” the ringed hand rose from within the cloak placing the snow goggles upon the counter gently. While she gave the pycon a curious look, and her nose flared scenting the creature and the familiar scent the clay being carried, aside that Finn was ignored for the moment for the curiosity of her gift.

[Kadarus]

Kadarus watched her silently with weary, guarded eyes, unm,oving as she walked behind him, then took a place on the stool next to him. As the tender banged a new cup down on the counter, he threw his head back and downed the last of his beer, shoving the mug forward, and jabbed a finger at the other miza. Merv grabbed the cup and stormed away, pissed off that he was making money. The hunter's nostrils flared as he sniffed the air; he smelled her, an old, familiar scent, one of pain and pleasure intertwined like their fates were, but he also smelled the blood, far stronger than anyone else in the Pig's Foot. He looked towards the cup of water, now tinted pink, then tipped his head back, his aureate eyes dancing with mild, gruesome curiosity.

"I'm not popular anywhere, Astoiredea," he said in an absent, dead-pan tone, still staring at the ceiling. He couldn't help but wonder what unlucky fool had kicked open the door; perhaps a vexed gambler who had lost money on him that night at Tall Johnny's? Or...the thought of it being a vengeful, lipless Scarface brought a rare smile to his face. The man had been a smartass, intending to feed the hot blooded kelvic newcomer to the flesh eating monster in the basement - not knowing how very familiar to the two beasts were, to the point where the cute little flesh eater casually tossed out the word, marriage. The smile even persisted as he entertained the thought of advising her to ask Merv to roast her "breakfast", but he knew she liked her meals raw and bloody, screaming and kicking to the end.

As though summoned by thought of any one of the Pig's Foot Customers thinking of bothering him again, Merv appeared before him as the Zith stood off her chair. This time, when the tender slammed down the mug, the handle finally snapped off. He scowled at it, took his miza, then tossed the hunk of ceramic away. Kadarus reached for his broken mug, and paused momentarily as Astoiredea set her gift on the counter, interested in it, now that she was fully awake. "You BOUGHT her something?!" Finn screeched, stomping around on the copuntertop, gesturing wildly at the goggles. "Weren't you just bitching that we had no money?! Is that a new cloak?!" Sighing, the hunter turned his full attention to the Zith, turning his entire body on the stool and away from the pycon.

"I'd have figured you'd have broken it already. You were rarely ever careful with the gifts I gave you. Remember the necklace I made you with sinew, teeth, and the little crystals I scraped off the colony walls? Hmm...they're the only thing I could find that would do the job. They're called snow guards. They'll work well enough to keep the light out of your eyes..." Finn sprinted around the long stretch of Kadarus' arm, stopped, struck what she considered a dynamic pose, and jabbed a tiny, tiny finger at Astoiredea.

"Hey! Hey, you, with the tits and the claws! You ain't gettin' my sleep spot in the tent!"

"You don't sleep," The hunter reminded her, giving her a disapproving, angry look. Finn ignored it, strode under Astoiredea, and leaned against the cup of tainted water, crossing her arms over her chest. Slowly, the clay of her left hand shifted into a wide tablet, detailed with unrecognizable runes, her fingers one with the strange thing. "Don't, Render." He knew what was going through the woman's mind, and he was quick to stop it. "Don't mash, rip, or bite her. If it wasn't for her, I'd have died after running from the colony. Astoiredea, this is Finn. Finn, Astoiredea." The Pycon merely nodded in agreement, her face clearly aggravated in its near human details.

"Astoiredea. I'm leaving Sunberth, soon. I haven't found any work around here, despite its reputation for needing moral less swords. I bought you the snow guards because...I want to know if you're stayiong here, or coming with us."

[Render]

The zith was mildly curious to the whole matter when the little creature that smelled of much began shouting and gesturing towards her gift. The curiosity the woman began to focus upon the little creature was shifted to Kadarus as his body turned towards her.

“It was not my fault it broke, but it served a good death, tangling up claws and giving an excellent opening. I believe I showed well my gratitude shortly after, Kadarus.” The lips curved lightly, the memory of the rage of the broken gift had been lost in the pride of claws rending hot flesh. Shortly after that victory the female had very well displayed her gratitude, even going as far to tell her mate the victory to be his.
Her eyes drifted to the snow guards as the kelvic spoke; they would protect her eyes from the light. It was a curious gesture, and a most sensible of gifts. The little woman again spoke, pointing this time at Astoiredea, her voice grating to sensitive ears and uncommon growing annoyance made the small creature, curious. It smelled of muck and mud but spoke and moved around very lively, it would be curious to see what lay within the little woman, or more so, how did she taste.

Her thoughts were obvious to one who knew, as such the Kadarus spoke swiftly drawing her attention away from the little figure, even proclaiming its name. And introductions made. How well he knew his mate, and while away of the handling, maneuvering from then and the night before, at the moment it was nothing but confirmation to the Zith. She spoke Fin’s name softly testing the name upon her lips before leaning closer to the Kelvic as he spoke. She didn’t touch him, just smelled. It did not look too strange the female’s body shifted closer to the man’s, it had been one of the things that first drew the kelvic to the zith, amid the stink of bodies and fear, his scent called her, and even over the years as it changed, it only grew more appealing. It changed to not mean simply him, but them, hers, and much more.

Her face had drifted close to the kelvics’ throat before she sat back sharply looking at the man before as his words registered. He was asking her to come away with him. In his way, but all the same. It was amusing, did he not expect his mate to stay by his side even after when she said the night before. It was more surprising he wanted her beside him, or at least did not try to flee.

And yet…

“"People do not like me Kadarus, you may be the fringe of their world, but I am their nightmare, made helpless and alone. Here, no rocks are thrown or men with swords and armor chase. They are very hard to peel from their metal shells when you are outnumbered and on the ground with them. Here, I have a place to sleep, and can eat, what I eat. But I will follow you, but, like you, I am not very popular. Disliked even."