PM to join [Slag Heap Fire] Night on the Town

[Jessor Yellowmoss]

53rd of Summer, 515 AV

Jessor laughed loudly, her hands waving about and nearly spilling her drink in the process. No one seemed to mind though. After all, they were just as piss-drunk as she was.

It had been far too long since she had gotten a night out on the town. She had been stressed, working far too hard, far too long, and far too often to enjoy herself at all. Hannah of Killroy's Kennels was working her dead, and despite the girl's fiery nature, Jessor had gone along with it. After all, she did love her job most days.

But tonight, work was the farthest thing from her mind. She was drinking like she had never had a drink in her life and gambling away as though she were the best gambler in all of Sunberth.

"Two Golds!" She declared, throwing in her ante and picking up the dice. The others matched her price, and the girl shook the dice vigorously to the sound of chanting drunks. She threw them up in the air with bravado, letting them come down in a shower of dice. They landed all over, and everyone scrambled to read them.

"Two!" Came the voice of one man off to her left.

"Five!" Said another- this one to her right.

"Six!" Called a woman.

I thought we were playing craps. Isn't there only two dice? Just as Jessor was about to voice her thoughts, something caught her eye over by the slag heap fire. She squinted in confusion at the figure and nudged the nearest fellow.

"You see that?"

"What?" He asked. "I'm not falling for that trick again."

"No really! There someone...flyin'."

The man's eyes widened as he caught sight of the figure. He called out to the others with rising urgency in his voice. "Hey! Do y'all see that too?"

[Slaughter]

53rd of Spring, 22nd Bell, 515AV The Slag Heap Fire Each flap of Slaughter's wings resounded through the forest canopy, carrying him across the night sky. The hurried rhythm of his wingbeat was due to his excitement and hope, for, after being disappointed in Nyka by the underwhelming sight of the Sebakem, he was looking forward to seeing the city in the east that sat on the tip of Mizahar. Although he knew that the ocean would look no different, the Zith hoped that maybe finding this easternmost point would help settle his curiosity and fill his soul a little more. So Slaughter bolted through the sky, wings working furiously as he skimmed the leaves of the woods below. His belongings on his back slowed him down somewhat, but he was willing to push himself a little harder now that he was so close to his goal. However, something quickly snatched Slaughter's attention away from his thoughts. In the distance a massive hill rose out of the ground, blanketed in nightfall. Normally Slaughter would be unable to see such a thing, but there was a unique feature about this hill that remedied that: it was on fire. Not ablaze, but even at this distance the Zith could see the smoldering light within its massive girth. Red and orange embers in the distance, all blurring together even to the eyes of a Zith, caught Slaughter's interest almost immediately. What on earth could it possibly be? With very little deliberation, the Zith flapped twice mightily and changed direction slightly, angling southward so that he would be carried toward the massive bonfire. Within chimes he arrived, and what he saw fascinated him. It really was a giant burning hill. Veins of smoldering ember crisscrossed and ran along the surface of the grainy lump, broken up by the frequent wide gulf of scorching slag that lit the hill up in patches. Very little smoke rose up to cloud Slaughter's senses, but even from this height he could feel the heat of the blazing pile rise and lift him up slightly higher into the night sky. Never before had the Zith seen anything like this, so of course he wished to investigate it further. Tucking his wings in to his back, Slaughter brought his head down and dove gently in a spiraling manner around the heap, spreading his wings at the last moment to slow his descent to a gentle landing. Once his feet touched the ground, he gripped with his claws and anchored himself to kill the forward momentum he bore when flying. Shaking himself, the Zith then folded his wings behind him in a cape-like manner, turning to face the burning slag heap with ignited interest.

[Jessor Yellowmoss]

Black as a crow, large as a man, and frightening as a storm was the creature to Jessor. He flew in circles as a vulture might swoop down upon its prey. He landed feet-first, with his claws digging deep into the earth to stop himself. His eyes were a gently glowing amber, giving off all the right impressions of a predatory monster.

Jessor found herself shocked into silence. Sure, she had seen Zith before. But they had always been in hiding, begging, or swiftly travelling past her in the night. Never had they been so bold, and so outright predatory as this one.

He turned to face the glowing embers of the Slag Heap Fire, illuminating his dark black fur and wide wings for all to see. A few of the gathered grew uncomfortable, mumbling that they needed to leave, for whatever excuse they could come up with. Others grew defensive, unsheathing knives or hidden weapons of all kinds. Still others looked curious, afraid, or in shock; Jessor experienced all three emotions at once.

Curiousity won out, however, and after a moment of silent terror, she found her feet moving, wandering closer to the creature. As she approached, she slowly felt her bold personality warming up again.

"Ay, you! Zith! What're you doin' here? You know you're interruptin' a nice night of game, don'tcha?"

[Slaughter]

Despite its enormity, the burning hill did not emit all that much heat, or at least not as much as Slaughter had been expecting. Since it was the size of a large bonfire, the Zith had expected it to be as hot as one, though he was sure that he still did not want to touch the veins of flame along the lump's surface. As curious as Slaughter was, he did not want to singe his fur on such a trivial interest. Though he would have much liked to observe the burning hill for a few moments longer before continuing on his way, the Zith found his thoughts interrupted by the braying of some animal behind him. His head turned to observe whatever it was that wanted his attention and found it to be a woman of curious appearance. A spray of hair erupted from the bun atop her head, with two wide blue eyes crowning a round (Slaughter was tempted to think chubby) face, and her clothes a gaudy green that certainly wasn't going to help her camouflage very well. Such an unusual appearance marked her almost immediately as a target for hunting in Slaughter's mind. Now, now, Slaughter thought to himself. You're near a city now. It wouldn't do to go pissing off the locals, lest they send out someone to kill you. Again. Looking behind the woman, the Zith noticed that she was not the only one who took an interest in his arrival. Many others looked at him from a gathered group of citizens, all divided into various different reactions based on fear, interest and caution. The temptation to eat the woman in front of him waned considerably, replaced with a slight respect for her courage. Out of all the people present, she alone - or perhaps she was merely the first - to muster up enough grit to approach his foreboding visage. He mentally applauded her, though his thoughts began to wonder whether or not he could frighten her. Oh right, she had asked him a question. Honestly, Slaughter did not much care for the pastimes of those who were of no concern to him, but out of the slight respect the woman had earned from him he fought his reactionary urge to simply fly off. "I don't much care for what I am interrupting," Slaughter said, completely neglecting to convey that interrupting the humans was not his intent. "There was something interesting here, and I came to inspect it. I'm not hungry enough to eat any of you currently, so feel free to go back to playing your game if you like. Or bare your fangs at me if that is your wish, it makes no difference to me."

[Jessor Yellowmoss]

The Zith's words brushed Jessor exactly the wrong way. His disdain and uncaring tone made the hair on the back of her neck stand up in a bestial manner. Her lip tugged upward on one side, creating an image of disgust at the idea of further interactions with this creature.

It could have been the cold ale in her stomach. It could have been that the warmth of the glowing embers on her face was comforting. It could have been pure stupidity. It could have been anything. But whatever it was, even though she wanted nothing more than to turn her back and return to her drink and game, Jessor found herself opening her mouth to talk again.

"Don't pretend yer all high an mighty here, Mister. You cain't scare me off. I'll 'bare my fangs' at you if I damn-well please." Jessor began venomously,"And you know what else? Yer as deep in this shyke-hole as the rest of us now. Trust me, I wanted to travel the world, and now I'm here. I'm stuck here, just like everybody else. So what is it, huh? Why are you here? And tell me the real, whole truth, none of this distant 'I'm too good for Sunberth' attitude."

[Slaughter]

It was clear the moment the words left Slaughter's mouth that they grated against the woman's ears. Curious as to why, he decided to linger a while longer to observe this woman and how she reacted to his composure. This was, after all, one of those rare instances where he was able to interact with a civilized race without the person wanting to kill him for some unspecified reason. And the reaction he received was quite indignant. Part of it was in response to his words, part of it seemed to be in response to his very being. It wasn't much, but it was a start. But first, she had asked another question, and Slaughter intended to answer to satisfy both her curiosity and his. "The reason I'm here is a long story, but to give you a short answer I want to see the easternmost point of Mizahar. I didn't come to this city - Sunberth? - specifically, it just happened to be here while I was flying east. Since I don't know a thing about it, I can't think that I'm too good for it." Rolling his shoulders, Slaughter tried to tease out the cricks in his bones. It was a common motion he did when he intended to fly soon. Although he didn't want to leave just yet, he saw little reason to remain much longer other than to satisfy his mild curiosity about this young woman. "Please believe me, though, that had I wanted to frighten you off my approach would have been very different," Slaughter continued, looking down slightly so that he could meet the woman's eyes. His blinks were few and far between. "To begin with, I would have been circling around for a while longer, and directly over your little game. Then I would make a sharp descent as if to snatch one of you and carry you off, only to pretend to miss and return to the sky. This would scare those of you who're easily frightened, such as those who've already left. As for the rest, I would figure that out as I went along." The Zith wasn't quite sure what he was trying to accomplish with his explanation. Perhaps it was his feeble attempt at showing the young woman that he had no ill intent for these people, at least not yet. It was far from a reassurance, though. "How is it you've come to be stuck here?" Slaughter asked, curious as to this point in particular. The idea of being unable to travel anywhere confused him. "Are there people who will kill you if you leave? Is there something in the way? I know you can't fly, but surely there's nothing stopping you from just riding out into the woods."

[Jessor Yellowmoss]

Jessor would have laughed at his simple, naive words, had she not thought the same each and every day. She knew it was ridiculous to let such a thing hold her here, but there was simply no way she could leave.

"Money, Mister." She said tautly, "Money's keepin' me here. Or rather, the lack of it.

"Now, I'm not dumb. I know there's jobs elsewhere, but after getting so used to stealing for a living, I'm not so sure I could fit in anywhere else. Besides, this job pays, and it pays well. Not enough for me to go buyin' a house, but enough that my tent don't have holes in it, and that's enough for me.

My momma might not be proud if she knew what I was doin', but if she knew I was doin' it for my own good, I think she'd be okay with it, ya see?"

After barring her heart to the stranger, Jessor found a bit of her fire was extinguished. Her rage had turned to mere distrust, her disgust turned to sympathy. His explanations of his actions might have seemed strange to her, sure, but how many times had she slipped into Pavi, only to have people stare at her as though she were Zith? The realization hit her hard. He was an outsider, just like her.

Unable to completely soften up, Jessor tried to express this sentiment as best she could without seeming as though she were giving in.

"I don't suppose your momma's happy about what you're doin', is she?"

[Slaughter]

Now, Slaughter wasn't exactly a brilliant mind, but this woman had blatantly confessed knowing of other ways to earn income at other cities. At that point, the Zith found it odd to be scapegoating money as the reason for her not leaving. He didn't think of it as anything to be shameful of, especially since so many people were perfectly happy doing things for no other reason than routine and familiarity. Shyke, he himself liked to use a bow in his hunts simply because he'd gotten used to that method. While it was true that there were plenty of advantages to using a bow, that wasn't his reason for using it. Perhaps this would be something worth returning to, this desire to assign the woman's sense of being trapped to circumstance rather than habit. Slaughter had seen it before in a few others of all races, not thinking of habit as a sufficient reason to be doing something. This was a fact he thought about pointing out to the woman. "Oh yes, my mother is absolutely broken up about my intent," Slaughter chuckled, his fangs gleaming in the light of the burning hill, flames dancing in his eyes. He had a unique sense of humor. "She doesn't have anything in particular to do with my curiosity," the Zith resumed, serious now. "My brood-mother isn't proud or ashamed of my choices, she just understands I'm an animal following impulses. I guess she would want me settle down in some colony, but there's nothing urgent about it. We Zith won't be in danger of dying out anytime soon." Slaughter shrugged. "The answer I guess is I think my brood-mother thinks fondly of me from home back in Kalea, but she's got a dozen other brood-children to occupy her mind plus a colony to be part of. I doubt she spares much thought for me, except to wonder whether I've achieved my goal." Memories of their farewell began to surface in Slaughter's mind. It wasn't a particularly heart-wrenching or joyous moment, but it did leave the brood-son with a good lasting impression of his brood-mother. She wished him well, assured him that the colony and their brood specifically would do well, and in return he assured her that he would remember and always be striving to fulfill his curiosity like any true Zith. Both left with good impressions, or so was Slaughter's perception. For now, the Zith had a different female before him. "You should be more honest with yourself," he said, returning to the earlier subject he'd been pondering. Slaughter looked up at the sky from which he descended, in the general direction from which he came. Even with the burning hill's brightness lit up the night, the sky was still filled with a sea of stars. "You yourself admitted that you know of other jobs that can be done elsewhere, so it's clearly not money keeping you here. You're here, in your own words, because you're used to stealing and are unsure you could fit into anything else. There's no shame in that, nothing wrong with doing what you're used to. But if there's something else you want to do, then you should probably take some time to try it." Looking back down at her, the Zith's ember-filled eyes glowed into her own. "That's how I found myself heading this way. Born in Kalea, all I was used to and comfortable doing was hunting with my colony. But I was consumed with the desire to see the other ocean, this one in the east, and so I parted with my colony to pursue that desire. If you've a desire to travel, like you claimed, then you might one day decide that desire is worth taking a risk. "However, if you think about it for some time and still find yourself wanting to stay here with what you're comfortable doing, you might want to consider again what your current desire truly is."

[Jessor Yellowmoss]

The Zith's words echoed repeatedly in Jessor's head, leaving her confused and upset for a long tick.
You might want to consider again what your current desire truly is.

She had always told herself that she was stuck in Sunberth. She couldn't leave. But perhaps this Zith had a point. She knew she could get work elsewhere. She knew that no one would mourn her leave. She knew that Sunberth was no good for her, and that she still wanted to see the world. Jessor wanted to experience life to the fullest. Wasn't that why she left Endrykas in the first place?

But even as these words flooded her mind, a stronger, louder, more stubborn voice conquered. It said that she was letting this Zith get to her mind. This disgusting creature was playing with her, and it needed to stop. And so, Jessor listened.

She took a step back.

And then another.

She kept stepping back until she was far enough that she nearly had to shout, and even then she leaned away from the Zith as though he were repelling her prescense. Her brow furrowed and her mouth twisted in anger and confusion.

"What are you talking about?" She growled. "I know exactly why I'm here- why I have to deal with creatures like you, and it is only because I have to. I promise you, I'm leaving Sunberth as soon as I get the chance, and you should too. It's a corrupted place, and it'll corrupt you too, if you aren't already."

And with that, Jessor turned her back to the smoldering flames of the Slag Heap and took one final step away from the Zith. She waited with closed eyes to see if he would reach out to her, and to see what he would say, but she barely expected to hear the deep, cold voice speak again.

[Slaughter]

It was difficult to describe, but Slaughter was vaguely aware of some drive within this woman, a fire much like his own internal flame that could be used to great effect. It was a shame to see it wasted on a false ambition though. Not that Slaughter disapproved of the stated dream, as it was very similar to his own, but he sensed from the lack of enthusiasm she put into her talk of travel that it was nothing more than a fairy tale she told people and even herself. Yet when Slaughter tried to unearth her true ambition, she seemed resistant, event violent to the idea. Judging by the strength of her reaction, it was not something she liked to give thought to. Which meant she had a long way to go until realizing her full potential, something that Slaughter was interested to see. Tonight, though, it seemed as if she had enough. Slaughter knew when further talk would be pointless, and this was one of those times. She was too stuck in her old thinking; she needed some time to ruminate on what Slaughter had said. Unfurling his wings, two black slabs blocking out the light of the fire behind him, Slaughter let the hot air begin to catch in the membrane and pushed himself off the ground, flapping into the air. Before he left, however, he circled once around the burning hill and then flew straight over where the woman had returned to her card game. He left her with only one ominous-seeming promise: "We will meet again." OOCSorry it's taken me so long to reply to this! If you want to hand the thread in for grading as is, go ahead! Or if you want one last reply, that's fine too! Either way, I'll leave it up to your discretion.