The Moon is but a Star [Eridanus]

[Screech]

With the intent of a predator, Screech watched him for weaknesses. A stumble here, a flinch there, hesitation… she sought anything she could use. It gladdened her in a way that she had drawn first blood, as the pain could be a distraction should she need to fell him like the sick animal he could become. For some reason, however miniscule, his facial structure changed as he looked at her. Accustomed to the faces of humans in their many expressions, she saw this one as dislike, or doubt. It unsettled her, for he hadn’t worn that face even as he raised his fists at her. Was he doubting her strength? She expected him to take his weapons and attack her, beginning their dance and the demise of on, or even both, of them, for it would be assured that she would fight to the death rather than admit defeat and return to her colony disgraced. “What is a god? Some man you put atop of the others and worship?” This was a word faintly known to Screech, as she had heard slaves pray to their gods in their corrals. She didn’t understand the term then, and she didn’t understand it now. What did a creature need from a god anyway? “Don’t make up stories about the Rending, creature of the Moon.” Her voice came out in a low growl now. She felt he was mocking it, however loosely, for there was only one thing that could ravage the lands, and that was what had saved her kind from the dust and fires. She didn’t know of an Ivak, or of a Leth, but she knew of the Rending and would accept no slight upon it. And then he tensed as she had, almost like a furless mirror of her form. Was he mocking her actions? She had to be wary of him. Maybe he planned to attack her and drive the cold steel into her body while she clawed at him. She would not allow him to kill her so easily though, and she’d fly him to that moon that he worshipped and throw him to the ground with her. That would be a noble way to kill her prey.

[Eridanus]

"A man we put atop of others?" Eri began incredulously. Either she was trying to provoke a response from him or she really did not know. It was difficult really, to live on Mizahar long enough to be able to talk and walk and still not even know what gods were. The celestial beings may once be men, but now they were no longer, for they were infinite in their plans and thoughts as compared to even earth-bound immortals like him. "Some of us worship them, zith, not all. They are no mere men, for they are beings of unimaginable power. If one of them deigned to strike both of us down they can do it at their fancy."

He knew that rarely would the gods do so, for there were always more important jobs they had to fulfil. His own patron god Leth had to tend to making sure night arrives after Syna's shift ended, and even in his spare time he had his own goals and plans to enact and execute. He sincerely hoped that he was included in whatever plans Leth had made and was fulfilling it.

The zith seemed angry with him when he mentioned the Valterrian, and he believed that she, like all her brainwashed kin before her, treated the Valterrian quite differently from the rest. Perhaps, some people saw it as an opportunity to restart anew, and some - like the zith - saw it as the salvation of her race. Eri and most of his kin saw it as a tragedy, an unnecessarily holocaust due to the carelessness of mortals and gods alike. If there had been more oversight and unity among the celestials the apocalypse would not have happened.

"I may be a storyteller, zith, but I do not lie about the Valterrian, or this Rending as you call it. It is as it is, and because of it I was torn from my god on this cursed land," He remarked curtly, suppressing his feelings. Each may be entitled to his or her own opinion, and he was a proponent of free speech and freedom of expression. However, he did what he could to educate her, and if she so as much showed an inclination towards the Lethborn or the Moon God it was his duty to Leth to strike her down as an enemy of the moon. He was no fanatic, and he believed that everyone had the right to worship and follow their own gods. Unfortunately, as a child of the moon, even as a fallen one, his allegiance was with Leth and so Leth's enemies were his own as well. It was just how the way the world worked, or at least that was Eri's opinion of it.

He noted that despite showing signs of potential aggression, she still did not attacking and seemed to be waiting for something. Waiting for him to reveal something, whether it be nuggets of knowledge or sign of weakness. He was more inclined towards the former but never the latter, and he contented himself by just mirroring her moves, always making sure that he would never be caught unaware by a surprise attack. His thoughts were already waiting by the djed streams in his body, ready to draw upon his flux if needed should she suddenly attack. It was a terrible game of thinly veiled aggression, one where the line between words and fists was extremely thin where both parties danced in a potentially deadly game.

[Screech]

Screech did not like the thought that some witch-man could cast her down like she were nothing. That was degrading, and insult to her and her ancestors. She would have to teach these gods to fear the Zith and their mighty claws and then make the little walking races submit to them everywhere. Perhaps, though, it would be wise to get the help of her colony and take the gods down. Screech flicked her eyes back to the horned man who fancied himself the child of one of these beings, realising she was growling and slowly lowering the tenor of her voice until it could have been a quiet, rumbling purr of discontent. His words had obviously unsettled the Zith, and she was already plotting what to do in order to get rid of these things he called “beings of unimagineable power”. As she had received a considerable amount of information from the man, she wondered now what to do with him, and to him. Would he taste the same as a regular human? Could she fashion those horns into knifes, or a very stiff bow somehow? Her nose wrinkled and she considered the shimmering coils for any sign that they were like the horns of mountain goats. The colour of course, was all wrong, but surely once he died and went to whatever god he’d say ruled death, his horns would be easy to break from his skull. She could imagine the sounds of his bones cracking now, the feeling of the tension in his body being released as he shattered underneath her and his blood pooled around him in a wonderful halo of life. Screech shivered in pleasure and returned her full attention to the man, narrowing her coal eyes and cockuing her head at him. She wondered what he would do should she attack. Slowly, a smile curved her dark lips and she started a slow gait towards him, hoping to cause him to step backwards in order to keep his distance. He did seem very knowledgeable about her race, and his defense seemed to have incorporated the offense of whatever colony had taken him. Perhaps, what she needed was to act differently. Her teeth bared in what she had interpreted on the face of her brothers and sisters as animalistic and intimidating, she crouched, giving the impression that she was going to attack him. She would watch him with interest though and keep her approach, hopefully backing him into an alley where he would be blind in the dark or into a corner her would be weak and trapped against. “So does your god also have horns, child-of-moon?” She growled softly. She was pretty much beyond caring what his reply would be. If his god did have horns, it wouldn’t matter now. He would never see him again once she assured she was feasting on the marrow in his bones. “Why do you have horns? What is the purpose of them?”

[Eridanus]

Eri found the zith slowly approaching him, and his combat experience told him that she was trying to force him against a corner, to invade his personal space, to intimidate. Her very expression was proof of it, and Leth knows how many times he had seen this expression used on him when he was tortured while enslaved. It was a gait he knew too well, and instead of backing away he stepped slightly to the back but also to the side. This would allow him to be facing her side, and force her to face him again if she did not want him to gain a tactical advantage should push come to shove. If she approached him again he would step back and side again, and thus depending on the zith's intelligence she would find that their dance would become one of him now circling her, and the tables have turned from just now when she was circling him. It was a clever use of tactics and one that an experienced combatant can use to unknowingly change the tides of battle much to his opponent's detriment.

He found her eyeing him quite disconcertingly, and he had the urge to either draw his blades or the wicked looking assassin's dagger hidden within his robes, forcing himself to do neither. There was no point at instantly degenerating this situation and somehow there was something morbid yet fascinating about the dangerous game that they were playing.

Eri found himself slightly disconcerted at her question, though he was sure she did not mean it to be so for it was borne of curiosity. For him, it merely reminded him of his past in the Ukalas, and the almost universal veil of partial amnesia that seemed to affect all ethaefals frustrated him.

"I... cannot remember, zith," He admitted, "I do not know why my horns exist. Perhaps it is a sign of Leth's own form? Perhaps it is a sign of our divinity? I seek these questions myself."

It was an honest reply and Eri was as curious, probably more so than the zith in discovering why. He had not really focused on the question of why he had horns, but with the predator's question he realized that it might be a plausible approach to investigate his condition. It might have to do with why his race were the only ones with horns. A soul would not have horns, and regardless of previous race every ethaefal inevitably ended up with horns. It would definitely be worth it to find out why. He was slightly glad that he had went into an attack straight away for this zith had inadvertently provided him with an additional avenue for research.

He did not allow these thoughts to cloud his mind, for he was quite aware of his current dangerous situation. She seemed to be a pretty good muse, and so he resisted from attacking, trying to prolong the conversation as long as he could to see what new realizations she could unwittingly prod him towards.

[Screech]

It unnerved her that he would start circling her, and to go against her instinct to step back, she spread her wings slightly more, tensed as though to pounce, and growled low in her throat at him. Her fur bristled as she instinctively raged at the man, slowly stepping forward and twisting around to continue facing him. She was ready to jump at him and proceed with eating, but this dance was so alluring. It was almost like fighting one of the snakes of the desert in that they seemed to like movement before a fight as well. “Do you charge other rams when you fight for mates, maybe?” For that was what life was for them, as far as she observed. Humans fighting humans for mates like two charging rams thundering at eachother and fighting over a single female with all the violence one could expect of savages. Her eyes narrowed as he seemed to become more considerable, in a way. He seemed to find her fascinating, when she didn’t view him as the same, and it was this that spurred her to change tactic as well and move alike to him, stepping forward and to the side and coming very near to him with every step. If he got close enough, she would swing, her curved claws reaching for his belly and hoping to gut him with the intitial strike. She noted that she would need to harm his strong arm, so he couldn’t use a sword against her, and she snarled at him as she stepped closer. Civilisation was merely a disguise for their violence. They were on the brink of fighting, of tearing eachother apart, and Screech was finding herself amused enough to continue the charade of talking. She knew that he knew she would soon be cracking his bones and tearing him apart and this excited her enough to get her adrenaline pumping. “Do all of you look like this?” She said quietly, in an almost human voice, belying the humanity with her next growl and another step to continue the graceful dance they had started.

[Eridanus]

Eri unconsciously nodded with appreciation as the zith found out pretty early that she was being circled, and she adapted her movements so that she would approach him as well. It seemed that she was trying to close the gap between them, but wanted to do so in as subtle a way as possible rather than rushing him straight. He perceived it as a challenge, and he sought to lengthen this dance as long as he could just for curiosity's sake. He responded by side-stepping before moving back further while stepping in the opposite side. As she would be turning her body to face where she thought he would be, his movement in the opposite direction would take her longer to adjust her body towards his new position, allowing him more leeway to step to her side again, allowing him to continue circling her but at a greater distance because of the adjustments in his patterns. He was quite content to keep the distance greater and so this would create a larger buffer of space between them.

"I suppose humans do, but my kind have no need for companionship. We have no wants, no desires, no frailties, no addictions. We have but only one goal, or at least I know I do, which is to return to Ukalas to be by Leth's side once more," He replied. He had met too little ethaefals to paint an accurate picture of his kind, but what he said was what he knew about himself. Unlike his mortal form, his celestial body had no need for sustenance, no need for companionship, no mortal and physical desires whatsoever unless he mentally allowed it via passion.

He feinted a direction and nimbly stepped in the opposite direction again, forcing the zith to continue being circled as he avoided her approach. This time, he decided to throw questions at her to see if she would answer, and he said, "We all look different zith. Just like how your kind looks different. Do you get fought over by ziths?" He knew some things about his former masters, but it would be interesting to learn more. He was hoping the next question might throw her off-course, and he brought the conversation back to their previous topic, "What does your kind think about the Rending then?" He said, adopting their lingo regarding the Valterrian. "What is your version of truth?"

[Screech]

His next phase confused her adequately. In hunting, and even catching slaves, she had not found prey that would feint their movements only to go in another direction. It took her a few chimes to catch on, by which time their dance had progressed several more steps, and she bristled in fury at the playing. He was getting farther and farther from her, but soon his back would be to a house again and she would have him cornered. She wished she’d thought to bring her bow on this excursion, for she could have set a few of those darts in his hide easily enough from the sky, where he couldn’t find her. Now, that was an idea. She should get up high and slam back down on to his body again, this time with the intent to either maim or render him unconscious. This frustrating game they were playing would end, then, and she would either drag him to Eyktol or eat him accordingly. Whichever one suited her after this. “What is the Ukalas?” She snarled next, immediately after his next string of words. She knew enough of humans and their mating as well as their weaknesses to find things like addictions and companionship useless topics. He wasn’t human, and so the information was not of his own race. She had to admit, the information he provided was readily fascinating. She could try and use it to her gain and destroy these gods where they stood. And then, his tactic changed again, and he addressed her as though she would answer. Did she get fought over by other Zith? What was th Rending? Did he seek to insult them and the true truth of the fire and wind that destroyed so much, but saved them? The least she could do was give him some comfort before he died and tell him of their own rise corresponding with his own fall. “We were like our prey, living in mud and sticks and crawling in the trees and dirt. We were weak, and then the Rending came, and the fire burned the trees and the wind blew our houses down, and we rose from the mud with wings and claws and fur and we had hunger in us for things we didn’t want before, so we wouldn’t rest.” She said, coldly and passionately. Despite her low growl, her fierce tone, she, like the rest of her kind, knew the Rending to be what saved them from being prey like the other humans walking around. They were chosen to be strong while the others were weak by the shadow-wing that gave them life. “Yes, horned man, I have been fought over, but I have also fought for others. We fight, and only the strongest may survive and pass on their strength.” She thought to tell him that, to her kind, he would look ugly, but even Zith knew the beauty of humans and their kin and used them for their pleasure. If he had truly been a slave, a colony of Zith must have had their fun with him before he escaped. The thought of his escape distracted her from this conversation-riddled battle and caused another low snarl to rip from her throat. She crouched, took two steps forward quickly to see how he would react, and then spread her wings wide and threw herself up into the air, straining her flight muscles to get high from him before he attacked. She wanted to rise out of sight, to utilise her fur’s colour and attack from the blackness of the night above and kill him in one good strike. She would have to see, however, what he would do.

[Eridanus]

Eri listened attentively as she revealed some information about her race and their version of the Valterrian, not analysing them but instead storing them in memory for him to peruse at a later time. He did not need his mind clouded when he was in an urgent situation like now, for there was always time to mull over what she said. Suddenly, she crouched, quickly rushing towards him and his heart nearly jumped out of his heart in excitement and fear at the inevitable battle. His mind was already ready to reach for his djed streams, and accordingly he started to flood his upper torso with the djed streams redirected from the rest of his body, enhancing his upper body strength and stamina. Accordingly, he raised his hands in a defensive manoeuvre, ready to block an attack and to respond with a kick to gain him some space before he drew his weapon.

Fortunately, she only took two steps forward, and lifted off into the air out of his range. He knew that she would not just leave and would be planning another attack from above for he had been hunted by her kind before. He did not draw his swords then, for it would slow down what he was going to do, and he quickly dissipated the abnormally gathered djed streams so that he could use it for what he wanted to do next. Looking around, he quickly found an abandoned warehouse nearby that was part of the confusing detour he took earlier, and began towards it, quickly muttering an incantation that brought him the effective imagery he needed to channel strength to his legs.

His speed suddenly quickened as his flux spell was completed, and his unnatural speed soon allowed him to reach the warehouse in no time, though he alternated his journey by leaping over obstacles and running in a zig-zag motion to prevent himself from being caught before he could enter the building. He leaped towards the building the minute he came within reach of the entry, though his augmented speed caused him to lift further off and away than he expected, forcing him to tumble when he landed to prevent unnecessary injury. Wounding oneself before fighting an enemy was highly embarrassing not to mention disadvantageous.

He recovered quickly from his acrobatic manoeuvre, spinning around towards the doorway while drawing his swords. The cold shriek of metal as the blades were released from their sheaths echoed throughout the empty building, and he tried to steady his breathing as he kept silent and unmoving, trying to detect if she had seen him enter the building.

He would slowly creep away from the doorway to the side of the building against the wall and into the darkness where the moon did not shine, effectively rendering him invisible to all unless they had night vision or if they saw him do so. He would force his wildly beating heart to calm down as he stared silently at the door with himself against the wall, ready to leap into an ambush from the side should the zith enter.

The ethaefal would not want to admit it, but the mixture of adrenaline and fear that now filled his body was the result of him feeling the thrill of the hunt, and though consciously he would not agree, every fibre of his body now screamed for blood and screamed for danger. It was a terrible game, where either side could be the hunter or hunted in any known moment, where the thin line between the two could easily shift without either side knowing.

The hunt had begun.

[Screech]

Screech approved of the man’s reflexes, feeling excitement hum through her, feral and joyous, as he prepared his defense. She was gone though, before they’d even made it close enough to touch, let alone fully tumble in a mess of claws, blood, fists, and dust. People would have found them in the dirt, and even if the people who found them would have gladly killed them both for their purses had they been human, Screech was a lone Zith and would have met her end sooner. In the air, she looked down upon him, finding that he had decided to run amusing. He seemed prone to flee, like the prey he was, and she liked that. It would have been better had he stayed and fought like a true warrior would have, but she couldn’t have everything she wanted when she wasn’t in the colony. That would just be so unfair to him. His speed, however, disgruntled Screech. He moved too fast, in such an unnatural way, that she wondered if it were his race that gave him that agility. If she ingested his body, and absorbed his blood, maybe she could be just like him and be as strong, fast, and beautiful. His god could quail then, and fear her might. She followed the moon-child, worried he would escape but unable to get a clear shot at him without maiming herself as he zig-zagged his way back and forth. She dived down, however, when she saw his destination and realised her mistake. He would escape her if she didn’t catch him, and he would have the advantage. It was with another ear-splitting shriek that she seemed to favour that she tipped herself into a dive and slammed down into the ground right after he fled past the door into the building, throwing up a cloud of dust and debris and immediately lurching out of the way. She paused, her chest heaving and her head cocked to the side, listening. She couldn’t have any knowledge of where her quarry was in the building, but she could listen, she could hear. His breathing rasped between his lips, loud enough for her despite his attempt to hurriedly soften it. She felt a low growl build into her chest, but held it back, her mind picking through hunting strategies she and her ilk had employed against their prey. Instinctual hunger for the man, the need to dominate the fight and bring him down like some buck, or horrible snake person, coursed through her. She was hunting now, and curiousity would only pause her for a few moments while she hungered for blood and thirsted for a kill. Slowly, she backed away from the door of the building, looking at it, judging its height and width without a thought for proper measurements. All she could think was “too short, too narrow”, but that hardly paused her. She would compensate, knowing that avoiding this would just mean she’d have to wait for when her prey decided to leave his cave or she walked in and was cut down. He had weapons, and she had only fists and claws. It would hurt to be cut by cold steel and she would not be clear-headed enough to attack with purpose, loosing herself to her blood-rage. Backing away from the building, Screech decided to employ the same strategy of her prey, starting forward at a run with her wings tucked in and darting into the building. Whether the man managed to cut her was up to his speed, for once in, injured or not, Screech would seek the darkest area and hunt him from the shadows where she was strongest, angrier and hungrier than before.

[Eridanus]

He heard a slam behind him just before he entered the warehouse, and as he quickly went into position he could feel his heart pounding painfully against his chest, for he knew that the zith was just outside. The silence was deafening, and he waited nervously as he prepared for the zith to rush in. If she did not and decided to wait for him, he was well-prepared to maintain this position throughout the night until Syna rose again. He also knew that the predators were nocturnal creatures and that he would be able to escape during the day.

His thoughts were cut short when he heard the pounding of steps, and he prepared to thrust his blades forward as the sound became louder. It seemed that his hunter was quite prepared to tangle in the dark with him, and he estimated the sound of the pounding. It was regular thuds against the ground as the zith built up momentum, and the moment he did not hear a successive thud on the ground he knew that the zith might have decided to leap into the building just like he did.

He jabbed both his blades forward into the doorway as he anticipated her movement, hopefully injuring her with one or both of his long swords. The momentum of her jump would bring her further back into the warehouse, and Eri did not like to fight when he could not see properly. Regardless if he drew blood or not he would take the short time given to him as the zith recovered from her rush to quickly head back out of the warehouse where the moonlight shone clearly.

Going out into the open would be advantageous this time for the door was the only way out for the zith unless she had some method of punching through the ceiling or walls of the warehouse. He highly doubted her ability to do so, but he kept his mind and senses open for such a possibility.

He would prepare again to deal more damage should she choose to come out through the door, and if she attempted to fly off again to strike from above he would deny her tactical advantage by entering the building. It was like morbid game of musical chairs. If she chose instead to engage him in the open space, it would be to his advantage for he clearly had a longer reach with his blades, and the experience gathered throughout the centuries on this mortal plane made him pretty deadly with his weapons.