The Bad Samaritan (private)

[Duvalyon Hellebore]

Duvalyon looked squarely at Abashai. His expression made no pretense. He respected the human’s intelligence enough for that.

“I am saving my sister.”

Why else did a Symenestra travel into the garish lit world? If Melia was to live on, he needed to bring her back a surrogate. She swore she’d have a child, even if it killed her in the process.
Humans died in childbirth all the time, what was one more for Melia’s sake?

“If I recall, Benshiras would do much for their ‘tent’. So you might understand.”

The Symenestra’s burgundy eyes suddenly turned sharp and shrewd, like he had finally found a place for his hooks. Duvalyon spoke slowly.

“But you’re not in Eyktol. Are you?” Duvalyon’s lip curled with a certain amount of scorn.
“Have you left your family?”

Duvalyon’s lip curled with a certain amount of scorn. Prodigal sons, nephews, brothers, they were contemptible things, unaware of the power in the connection of blood. As much as he disliked his father, it was the one Viratas bound to him, so Duvalyon would honor him as long as the god demanded.

It was ironic, but the monster’s expression was fringed in disgust.

[Duvalyon Hellebore]

Duvalyon looked squarely at Abashai. His expression made no pretense. He respected the human’s intelligence enough for that.

“I am saving my sister.”

Why else did a Symenestra travel into the garish lit world? If Melia was to live on, he needed to bring her back a surrogate. She swore she’d have a child, even if it killed her in the process.
Humans died in childbirth all the time, what was one more for Melia’s sake?

“If I recall, Benshiras would do much for their ‘tent’. So you might understand.”

The Symenestra’s burgundy eyes suddenly turned sharp and shrewd, like he had finally found a place for his hooks. Duvalyon spoke slowly.

“But you’re not in Eyktol. Are you?”
His gray lip curled with a certain amount of scorn.
“Have you left your family?”

Prodigal sons, nephews, brothers, they were contemptible things, unaware of the power in the connection of blood. As much as he disliked his father, it was the one Viratas bound to him, so Duvalyon would honor him as long as the god demanded.

It was ironic, but the monster’s expression was fringed in disgust.

[Abashai]

Abashai's eyes laid sternly on the Symenestra. He knew little of their kind, but he understood the repulsive intent of Duvalyon's search among humans. The girl in his arms moaned and swooned a bit, and the Benshira righted her, whispering more soothing words in her ear. Duvalyon's barbed statements caused Abashais' head to snap down at the Symenestra and his glare to fix on the spider's unnerving eyes. The human's antagonist could see his poignant jab had struck a nerve. the insinuation was of course true, the Symenestra clever enough to find a chink in the Benshira's mental armor. The digust in Duvalyon's eyes angering Abashai. How could the Symenestra compare his family to Abashai's? The truth was, the desert man did not want to acknowledge the fact that they could in fact have anything in common, that this creature could share a love of family that he himself no longer knew, and that the blood-sucker could have anything to judge against him. "My reasons for leaving Eyktol are my own, Spider." His eyes shifted uncomfortably back to the dirt road ahead. However, his interest had been piqued, and the next question was out before he realized he had asked it. His eyes still on the road, Shai spoke, his tone still cold. "Tell me about this sister."

[Duvalyon Hellebore]

Duvalyon was taken aback by Abashai’s relatively friendly question, despite the cold tone that phrased it. No one asked about his family. No human cared to. Granted, most his human interactions involved deceit and violence. Hardly a setting for thoughtful inquiry. Perhaps he would have been more sympathetic if they were curious. He was “moral” enough to feel some guilt. He’d let that one student traipse off, even though she was perfectly fit.

Yet this guilt made his cruelty all the more poignant. When he occasionally remembered the surrogates were creatures similar to his sister, it was all the more wicked that he could still harvest them. A Symenestra had priorities. “Us” would always overrule “them”.

“My sister is a kind, accomplished, young Symenestra,” there was a touch of true pride in this.
“She is recently married to a man that is good, but doesn’t deserve her. But as a brother, I likely think only some Alvina worthy of her, a wealthy one at that.”

He frowned as he remembered all the traits she had that worried him: the illness, the readiness to forgive, the qualms over surrogates.

Duvalyon stopped, obviously keeping important facts to himself. He should not have spoken at all. What would this human understand of family? They ran from home as soon as their legs would carry them for no other reason apart from boredom.

He clicked his claws together in mild agitation, a quick reminder of his monstrous traits.

Duvalyon jutted his chin at the malingering girl, “Melia is worth a dozen of these rude creatures.”

In response, the girl receded further into Abashai’s chest.

“Do you have any one you care about, Benshira? A person so dear, you’d kill a hundred men to keep them breathing? Perhaps if you did, you’d understand what it is my people feel for sisters and daughters.”

Duvalyon smirked obviously enjoying his speech.

“Why, we love our children more before they even breathe than some humans do after years of fellowship. I can’t tell you the amount of cast-aways I have seen. As if you all didn’t know how precious blood is.”

[Abashai]

Abashai's bright eyes shifted down to the Widow. Duvalyon spoke like any other man, and had the Benshiran not been looking at the pale, lanky, fanged being, one could believe a human or Chaktawe or Akalak was speaking. There was affection and pride in the Symenestra's voice as as he spoke of his sister. Family was important to Duvalyon, that much became apparent. But Duvalyon was not human, he preyed upon them. In the end, the Spider's goal was to find a hapless girl to enslave as a borrowed womb, condemned to bear his sister's Widow child and die a gruesome death. The Symenestra's disdain for humans was punctuated by his comment about the girl in his arms. Abashai's face twisted to an angry scowl and he instinctively wrapped one arm tighter around the girl pressed against his chest in fear. Arrogant Widow. Would he be doing his kind a favor, Shai thought, if he slew the Symenestra right here from the back of this horse? Maybe. If he let Duvalyon go, the Spider would find his surrogate, and an innocent would die to bring another one of his kind into the world. It would have been easy, if Duvalyon would just stop talking. The more the Sym spoke, the less of a monster he became. Curiosity had won out, for rarely did any human have such an opportunity to probe the mind and heart of one of these deadly beings. "Yes, I have someone I would kill to defend, kill without remorse to my last drop of blood...to defend. But she would not ask me to kill an innocent, not even one, to save her. Even if I considered it, she would not let me. She knows the cycle of life, better even than I. She is a killer, she knows when its time to die, you die and Dira takes you." The Benshiran swallowed hard. His comment was a bit hypocritical. Both he and Nya should have died in the battle with the Ebonstryfe in the Colbalts. But Rhysol intervened, and Dira did not take their souls that day. Abashai shifted uncomfortably in his saddle. He did not like to ponder that scenario, one where he would have to choose whether to kill an innocent to save Nya, the most beloved person in his life. The Benshiran could not truly answer what he would do. "Arrogant words from a people who harvest another race like cattle. You do not want to see us as loving those you take from us, because then you would know what monsters you are. You hide in your holes and reap what humans have striven and bled and died for. Cowards. Parasites. We love our own enough to rise from the ashes of a cataclysm to rebuild our civilization, to risk much to give our loved ones a better life. We are an imperfect race for sure, and there is evil among us. But there is much love and sacrifice for others among us too. I do not know this child I hold, but I love my kind enough to risk my life to defend her from you." Abashai's eyes held Duvalyon's deep red gaze for a moment before huffing and looking up to the road ahead.

[Duvalyon Hellebore]

Duvalyon was startled by the Benshira's heated reply. The Symenestra shouldn't have been, he had been goading Abashai for the last few minutes.

The more impassioned Abashai became the less agitated the Symenestra looked. Rather it seemed he digested Abashai's discomfort, finding some sort of sustenance in it. By the time the Benshira was looking at the road ahead, Duvalyon was smug.

"A fine speech. I don't doubt it from you." Abashai couldn't tell if he was being mocked or admired.

"But I am glad there are enough people unlike you to make our endeavors feasible. Men who would spatter brains for a horse."

Duvalyon turned towards the path and opened his arms like an orator.
"Give us your poor, your wretched, those brutish creatures cursing the dawn."

The mildly aggrandized tone dropped to the murmur of casual conversation.

"If you were truly clever, you'd let us buy the prisoners. Can't say I haven't tried to snatch a few from a rude gallow's death. But hangmen have bizarre scruples."

His hand waved dismissively at the girl pressing into Abashai.
"You can keep that one, though. She's a bit peakish. No need to be defensive."

There was a brief quiet, a soothing balm to the walk.

"You're wrong, though Benshira."

For a rare moment, Duvalyon lost all pretense of mocking, and his burgundy eyes were vises.

"In the dark, all creatures are cowards and predators. In our place, you would act the same. We are what we are, and none should be astonished at any evil, for most are deserved."

Duvalyon challenged him further.

"As for you and your dear one, you would only kill the guilty?"

His mouth twisted into a macabre smile on the last word.

"Who are you and your dear thing to say who is innocent and who is not? I only designate between mine and yours. Innocence is not for me to decide. Taking a nasty piece of work would ease my conscience, not absolve it."

[Abashai]

Abashai, his gaze still fixed on the road ahead and the woods that lined it, restrained from grimacing at Duvalyon's remarks. Instead, he rode in silence, allowing the arrogant Widow to speak his mind. The Benshiran's dark-maned head turned a time or two to look down at the Symenestra with a purposefully blank gaze, his free hand caressing the head of the wounded and frightened child in his lap. Duvalyon was intelligent, and his arguments, when viewed purely on logic, were more accurate than Abashai would like them to be. "Human, or sentient, nature is a complex thing. So easy to skew and manipulate to justify one's deeds. I am not a fool, Symenestra. You do me a disservice by assuming I kill so easily. It is true, we are all driven by a basic need to survive. In your example, you assume killing another for a horse is excessive. Where I come from, and in the grasslands of Cyphrus, a horse could mean the difference between living and dying. But in the end, we all have our justifications." Shai glanced down at Duvalyon again. "But are there no absolute truths? I believe in them, I serve a god who espouses them." The Benshiran paused, realizing the concessions his next words represented. "Prisoners, guilty in the sense of our laws, may very well be worthy of the fate your people would offer them." "You ask if I would kill who I deemed innocent for the one I love..." The Benshiran glanced down the narrow, rutted path before them, ..."I hope I never have to make that choice." A sudden thought emerged in Abashai's mind. At the end of this journey, what would he do? Knowing what Duvalyon was, what he was seeking, could he let him go? If he did, would some innocent die? The Benshiran looked away uncomfortably. He had no qualms about killing. But to kill even this Symenestra in cold blood did not sit well in his spirit. He longed for Nya, she would not hesitate to kill him. In fact, were she here, the Spider would already be dead.

[Duvalyon Hellebore]

“You are fortunate in that you may never have to,” Duvalyon answered quietly.

“My god is a good one for our people. He asks both respect for life…” he nodded towards the girl, reminding the Benshira of his initial act of kindness.
“…And the willingness to take it to ensure more may thrive.”

The Symenestra’s gait hastened as he grew less meditative.
“Yours is a god of faithfulness, yes? He may not be inclined towards me, but I have made offerings in his temple for my mother.”

Duvalyon promptly silenced himself on the subject. Though the comment was not designed to agitate (unlike the bulk of what he said), it was a dangerous exercise to remind an armed human of common ancestry.

“Mina! Mina!”

The shouts were long but faint, and made the girl startle where she sat.

“It’s my brother! But he sounds so far away.”
Though her voice was hoarse, she tried to answer, “Mikka! Here! Mikka!”

An answering cry came, but the distance made the words unintelligible. The Symenestra frowned.

“We could be at this all day.”

Before much more could be said, Duvalyon began to remove his shoes.

“I’ll look above from a tree while you shout at each other. Viratas-will there isn’t a Balicani brooding in it.”

Simple as that, the Sym picked what he deemed the tallest nearby tree and began the visually disconcerting process of climbing it.

[Abashai]

As the unlikely companions made their way along the dirty road, along with their young charge, the hint of open land could be glimpsed at a distance in the few breaks in the thick foliage. So he was a devout....man. The Benshiran did not know much of Veritas, other than that he was a bloody god, though some say he honored the preservation fo blood as much as the spilling. The Symenestra continued to attempt to draw similarities between his kind and the humans, an effort Abashai had resisted at first. But Duvalyon had proven to be nothing like the Symenestra that populated the menacing stories told by evening fires. Abashai's countenance had softened as he found no reason to accuse the Spider of the monstrosities he had expected. But his back straightened and his visage turned dour as the Sym confessed to have offered devotions to the Holy One. His own beloved Yahal, god of his people, who had plucked him from the sands of his home and lead him to these temperate lands, to Nya, and to the Task. The fact surprised him, impressed him, and in a small way offended him. His eyes lowered to look at the hand wrapped around the girl, opening it to reveal Yahal's mark embedded in his palm, then his steely blue-green gaze dropped down to the being walking beside him. "Have you?" His gaze returned to the road ahead. "It is true, he is a faithful god, who honors faithfulness." But would his Lord honor the offerings of the Symenestra? Abashai wanted to believe he would not. Any response was cut short by a cry in the distance. At the sound of the name, the child in Abashai's arms stirred suddenly, and he had to shift to keep hold of her. Again he looked at the Symenestra. Apparently the girl's family was near, or at least one of them. The Benshiran had thought to trot ahead to close in on the voice more quickly, but decided against it, not wishing to undo the work Dulvayon had done to mend her wounds. Before he realized what the Spider was doing, Duvalyon had shed his shoes and was clambering up a tall tree. The sight was unnerving, as the man scaled the trunk in a manner that was less human and more arachnid. As much ground as the Symenestra had made in convincing Abashai of their similarities, watching Hellebore ascend the tree reminded him he was still not a human. Nevertheless, the Spider had given the desert man much to think about. Shai brought Sus to a halt, looking up as Duvalyon as he disappeared into the leafy canopy. "So, what do you see?"

[Duvalyon Hellebore]

Duvalyon yelled down a curt answer to the Benshira’s question, “Tree-tops.” A few branches shook as the Sym descended a fraction. “Go to the Northwest,” he shouted downward, “I see him.” Surprisingly, Duvalyon was rather helpful. Even daring to make enough noise to garner attention (a thing most Widows avoided like the plague). “Here Mikka! Here!” Well then, he’d done his good deed for the day. Time to crawl back down . Gods, he hated getting sap on his fingers. Oh for Kalinor, safe, dim and smooth. As he returned to the ground, he realized his chances of getting anything in return for his skill with catgut was growing slim. Pity, Syliras was expensive and indisposed to being hospitable to his sort. It was just one step in the larger journey, though. Only a fool would try to seize anyone under the vigilance of Syliras’s shiniest. No, the stone city was a place to bide time and watch for travelers passing through. It was when wanderers were miles down the road that you struck. By the way Abashai’s light eyes occasionally fixed on him during their conversation, Duvalyon surmised getting out with his head attached might be his only reward. His needling other races was an unfortunate compulsion. They were reluctant to recognize their own beastly natures, but so quick to look outward with derision. He enjoyed watching them squirm on uncomfortable ideas. Once on the ground, Duvalyon followed after Abashai and the girl. While the meeting was no longer something to gain anything from, there were still a few finer points about her injuries he had to cover. If he went through all the trouble of saving the sow, he didn’t want some ignorant mud farmer undoing his effort through shoddy care. OOCTake a turn writing the npcs for the reunion .