Conall - The corruptive friend part 1 (8/24)

[21:50] Conall stalks over to Ohtli then goes to sprawl, leaning on her side.

"How was Ohtli's fight?"
(Conall Revels)
[21:55] The Drakan doesn't respond at first. She eyes Conall icily from her periphery, stooping to use the fountain's water to clean the blood from her face. A tender wound, she prods it and examines its severity in the reflection of the pool.

"...Good," Ohtli replies laconically, flinching. Stretching the skin of her face causes her pain and her speech comes out little better than a slurred mumble. Now that she's washed the blood from her eye properly she can see again. A silver lining after a decidedly dark encounter.
(Ohtli)

[21:59] Acknowledgement of the icy look seemed lacking, Conall's face not changing from the ever so jagged smile. Half-lidded eyes looked towards the blood that had gathered, and prodded at. A pair of fingers lodge themselves in the stones of the path and crawling out from the dirt comes a blue tree. The beat of mother nature soothes the pain of injuries.

"Is glad Ohtli is good. Is not looking best. Can be going to store and bringing Ohtli of ointments if in of pain."
(Conall Revels)

[22:05] The tree is a familiar and soothing presence. She works her jaw and finds the immediate pain dulled. Speech is less of a problem in the ambient glow of druidic magic.

"I can afford it. I've got a little saved up. Just point me at it," she mumbles, busying herself with cleaning off the blood.

"...You like owning people, huh?"

The words are unmistakably cool.
(Ohtli)
[22:10] He slovenly sprawls on the ground, closing his half lidded eyes and pointing his face to the darkening night sky.

"Are certain? Conall would not mind of retrieving ointment for Ohtli. Would be of wanting to make sure she is ok. Not hurting." His hand fumbles with a twig stuck in matted brown hair. His tongue flicked over the edges of his jagged teeth.

"Is indescribable feeling. Crushing that are of harming Gehenna, that are of harming spirits. Conall is of enjoying that, reveling in taking trophies of combat.

Is Ohtli not same? Is Ohtli not wanting to make those against serpent hurt?"
(Conall Revels)

[22:18] Ohtli runs her tongue pensively over her teeth, staring down into the water. She looms over the pools surface with her hands resting on the stone edge of the fountain. His questions make her consider a part of her that she tends to try and ignore. Or bury.

"...Of course I want to fight those who oppose the Serpent. I want to defeat them. They've made us suffer, but..."

A finger traces the long, torn line in her face. It's going to make for a grand scar, a different kind of trophy, a remembrance of survival. -That- is something to be proud of.

"People aren't trophies, Con. Feathers, weapons, armor, sure. Not people. Making them slaves doesn't undo what they did. Even if it might feel good."

Even that minor concession makes her fall silent again.
(Ohtli)

[22:27] Wordlessly, Conall sat up. His bark-like hand would move, the tips of wooden nails almost resting near her hand. Before he grabs it, it falls slack at his side, and he look at Ohtli. He leans closer to her, his words instead quietly cooed to her ear.

"Ohtli is knowing of what Conall feels. To fight those who are hurting of spirits. To be defeating of them. To be making of them hurt for drawing weapons, for blooding of."

Only once he starts talking does he gain confidence. The bark-like hands come to rest on the Drakanite's shoulders.

"Feathers, weapons, armor, all are things that are making of good trophies. But Ohtli. Is not remembering of homeland? Is not remembering how of building cities, of making labor? Tribes capture other tribes. You capture foes. And you use them, or you sacrifice them.

Is way of Gehenna. Would Ohtli be preferring if Conall only sacrifices? If Conall is only of taking lives now? Will do it for her. Will wear feathers of black and red."

One hand moved to his sack. when it returns, he moves the object into Ohtli's view. A pair of blackish-purplish feathers.

"Did beat big bird. Took feathers as trophies."
(Conall Revels)

[22:37] He speaks and she listens, her face shifting as she absorbs his words and thinks.

"I won't need slaves to build my temple. I'll build it with my own two hands if I have too," she mumbles defiantly. Just because he may have had a point didn't make her like it any more though.

Ohtli tenses at first when the Dryad puts his hands at her shoulder, then eases as he continues to speak. He starts to make concessions of his own.

"It doesn't feel right to make slaves like that. Take prisoners, take sacrifices or kill them, but no man or beast should be a slave. No animal alive does that that I know of."

The pair of feathers enters her vision. For now it's a pleasant enough diversion. She reaches a hand up to try and touch the no doubt hard-won trophies and feel along their edges.

"Good ones. I bet he didn't want to give those up."
(Ohtli)

[22:43] "Are not 'needed'. But would help Ohtli in making temple faster. Would help Ohtli in praising the spirits at temple faster. Is not what she wants?"

Conall's hands rest on her shoulders, and he leans on her ever so slightly. Cooed gentle words continuing to be whispered into her ears.

"So should then? Conall should be of slaughtering our foes? No mercy spared, no quarter? Should be made into sacrifices for spirits, blood to be shed on the temple? Can be fine with that. Is also use for people. No more kept alive.. Khiiii..

Nito did not want to be of giving up feathers. But was defeated. Took from him. Was of good trophy.. But is wondering.

Why? Why is Ohtli not wanting slaves? Does she not enjoy working with others?.. Is owning not of feeling good?"
(Conall Revels)

[22:55] There's something between his tone, gentle and soft, that doesn't quite match the subject matter. Cruelty, possession, a clear lack of mercy. He asks a lot of questions, ones that she's tried very hard not to think about or consider. The Drakan's struggled to keep that subject matter at arm's length.

"I want to praise the spirits, I want to serve Quetzalcoatl, but...I don't think that's the way to do it," she mumbles. It would be faster though. Certainly the more expedient route. But the easier route was not always the true one. She pauses, takes a deep breath, then answers the Dryad's next sibilant query.

"Our enemies should be given a chance at mercy. At least one. They should be given one chance to see that they're wrong. Then if they don't?...Then if they don't, they should sustain the spirits.

"It's not that I don't enjoy working with others. I do, but I enjoy working with them as equals. If those hands don't believe in honoring the spirits and Quetzalcoatl they might taint the purpose of the temple."
(Ohtli)
[22:56] Ohtli asks, "Besides...haven't you said it yourself, Con? When we go back to dust, what we own doesn't matter. Does it?"
[23:03] He moves, his lips away from her ear and instead finding a spot on the Drakan's forehead. A small kiss above her eyes, gentle despite the jaggedness of the teeth beyond his lips. It only lasts a second.

"Is not understanding. Is wanting to praise spirit. Is wanting to praise Serpent. Is good goals. And more confusing.

Enemies given chance at mercy? Is that not what slavery is? A chance to prove themselves to spirits, a chance to become warriors of Gehenna by slaying foes of Spirits? If only of sacrificing, brings honor to spirits. But is not chance for them to live. For slaves?

Slavery is mercy."

He draws away from Ohtli, looking back.

"And do not of understanding either. If they are of killing Gehennans? If they are of harming natural world? Are not of equals. Are beneath." He starts down the path.

"Will be back. Ointment is not far." He placed a bit of food on the fountain near Ohtli. "If needing to eat, can eat too."
(Conall Revels)

[23:08] Ohtli's eyes close as the dryad presses a kiss, albeit a brief one, to her forehead. Between it and the presence of the tree, still likely aglow behind her, she eases a step further.

That was not something she'd thought of. Slavery as a chance to work off a debt, or to prove themselves worthy. It's not something she had considered...a mercy in its own right. The thought makes her brow furrow.

She is forced to consider an unpleasant subject, but one that might not be without merit.

"...You're half right, Con. But then that's less about owning and having trophies," is her stinted reply.

"Paying a debt and proving something? That's...different."

All the same she takes the food from him and nibbles the edges, frowning. Far be it for her to seem like an ingrate.

"Tell me how much it is when you get back, and I can pay you what it's worth."
(Ohtli)
[23:14] It did not take long. Conall moved to the edge of the village. He moved back. A blue vial was cradled in hand. He returned, standing next to Ohtli. His hands rest on her shoulders.

"Conall is right. Slavery is mercy. Is chance for them to prove of themselves to spirits. Is chance to appeal for harm caused to world. Is good. Is not matter what Conall feels from it. Is not about from own enjoyment.

Is paying of debt. Is proving of something. Is one and same.

And in end? As Ohtli was saying; All will be becoming of dust. Is no judgement for what of doing, what of done, and how one is reveling."

He retrieved a vial from his sack, holding the ointment to her.

"For Ohtli? Is free."
(Conall Revels)

[23:20] The uninjured half of Ohtli's face quirks up into a smile for the dryad. His hands weren't unwelcome on her shoulders. Neither was the offer of medicine. There is still some lingering doubt in her expression, but it can be voiced another time.

"Isn't this the second one you've given me for free?" she asks, gingerly taking the phial. With broad smears she works the ointment into the long gash on her face.

A more vain creature would have quailed at the notion of such a scar in their future. Ohtli welcomes it. For now? The medicine eases its lingering pain.

"Thanks, Con...As always."
(Ohtli)
[23:26] A jagged welcoming smile is given to Ohtli. The half lidded eyes take her face in. He seems to notice her doubt.

"Ohtli seems of worried. Conall will of calm it.. Is sure if Ohtli takes slave once, sees what is about.. Will not hate it. Will understand it. May even like it."

Fingers drum on her shoulders and he bobs his head, a small cackle.

"Is second ointment. Is not bad. If Ohtli of needing ointment, Conall will bring for her. If Ohtli of needing wood, Conall will bring for her. Or stone, or anything else. Conall of helping Ohtli.

Is thing Conall wants to do." A small leaning in towards her was had.
(Conall Revels)

[23:32] Ohtli shakes her head, but the denial is gentle.

"I've got plenty else to worry about before I go worrying about that," she replies. The dryad leans towards her, even if only partly, and one of her wings stretches to its full span. The feathered limb lightly shrouds him.

"You've done a lot to help me. More than most. It would be a dishonor if I didn't help you too. All you have to do is say the word, Con."
(Ohtli)
[23:36] "Are always many things to worry about. If spending every moment worrying, right moment will never come." Conall says, half-lidded looking at the fountain. The tone almost seemed like he was talking about something else entirely. The wing stretched out, shrouded him. He is caught offguard, but does not jump, leaning into the wing a little more.

"Isssssssssssss fine. Conall of wanting to help Ohtli. Is thing Conall is happy to do. Could go of hunting together if Ohtli wanting to help Conall. Would not be minding of company."
(Conall Revels)
[23:40] The dryad's wisdom is given more silent consideration. The wing brushes his opposite shoulder with the tips of its feathers and makes a tidy little shelter over his head.

"Might have gotten my face torn open, but I've still got my sword-arm. If you want company, I'll go with you."
(Ohtli)
[23:44] Behind them, the bark of a small tree begins to manifest from the stones, growing upwards. Conall leaned against the wood, and looked to Ohtli, smiling as the wing brushes against them, and makes a shelter while the wood makes small seats for them both.

"Could be of waiting a bit. Not wanting Ohtli to be getting of to ohurt before hunting. But will hunt with her. And will revel and celebrate with her."
(Conall Revels)
[23:46] Ohtli turns her head to watch Conall's woodshaping efforts, taking a seat on the bench after it forms.

"Now. Later. Doesn't matter. But if you want a big hunt it might be a little better to wait," she admits with a frown.

"Rather not have you hold back on my account. Wouldn't be right."
(Ohtli)
[23:49] He sits behind Ohtli, sprawling slovenly next to her. He jaggedly smiles.

"Time is mattering little, but Ohtli is right. Can be of wainting for her to heal fully. Is not wanting scar to hurt more." He looks at her frown. His bark like hand comes to her unhurt cheek. He strokes it.

"Is not a worry. Ohtli should not be using too much time to be of worrying. Life is better without it."
(Conall Revels)

[23:55] Now that she's seated her wings fold neatly behind her. Ohtli huffs softly at the dryad's remark, but his touch goes unrebuked.

"It'll make for a good trophy, even if it hurts. I'm a warrior. It won't stop me. At least it was a good fight," she admits. "I'll try not to worry about hunting at least. There's still the temple that needs work."

Some of his 'stop worrying so much' message goes right over her head. Not all, but most.
(Ohtli)
[23:59] He bobs his head.

"Of good trophy, yes. Even when of becoming good trophy, is not wanting it to hurt of all time. Must be giving of time to set in, finalize. Then scar is becoming of prize, of trophy." He smiled jaggedly.

"Conall should be taking of trophies too. Captured of one this time, but did little. Of taking jawbone of foe next time? Khiiii." He cackles then he bobs his head. He leans close to Ohtli, only inches between their faces.

"Should be trying not to of worrying. Should be of celebrating. Of enjoying building temple, of working on temple, of hunting. Not of worrying of it. Ohtliiiiiiiiiiiiiii."
(Conall Revels)