Timestamp: 40th of Spring, 522 A.V. Cheenga Ruins
Tazrae shifted, having one leg stretched out in front of her and the other folded beneath her rump. She was wedged in the crook of a huge branch, using the trunk of that tree as a backrest while she stared up at the giant humanoid bat that was hanging upside down from a slightly higher branch studying her in an equally curious manner. They were overlooking the valley where the Cheenga Ruins rested.
“You are wearing two legs today instead of four. What changed?” Zethas asked her, blinking his overly large eyes and twitching his large ears back and forth.
“I was born like this. I used to be more this than the other.” She said simply. They’d been gathered here for a while now and it was just now that the words were beginning to pass between them. Zethas was a new friend, one that Tazrae was uncertain of. He was so strange, so alien, and yet from her first visit to the second visit to the third visit… he knew her. He’d never tried to attack, never threatened her, and had never done anything but offer council.
“It’s strange seeing you like this. I’m used to you roaming with the scarlet male and the other three females. You are striking in your darkness. But in this form, there is none of that remaining.” He said simply, flashing a quick peek of his fangs as he smiled. “This feels more… authentic to me.” He observed, studying her as they spoke.
Zethas was an odd creature. The first time they’d spoken, he’d explained that Mizahar wasn’t his original home but he liked it better than where he came from. And on the second visit, when he’d remembered her and greeted her by name, she’d asked him how he knew her and he’d simply told her that the Gods of Mizahar had no power over the likes of him because he came from a place where others held sway.
She’d called his bullshit on that one the first time she’d seen the Akajia marks on him. And he’d simply told her that The Goddess of Night and himself had an understanding. It was an unusual friendship, one that was slowly growing. She appreciated Zethas and his viewpoint on the world. He’d claimed this place as his own, this valley and its ruined sister towers. And he’d told her about what it had looked like before the Valterrian when the towers were still young.
Tazrae still didn’t know how old Zethas was. He marked time differently, or so he said, then in seasons and rotations of orbs around burning stars. Taz didn’t even pretend to understand what he meant by that, but she was drawn to him regardless. It had been a busy morning for her, and one that had spilled work over into the afternoon as well. And when she’d finally agreed to go running with the lounge she was an honorary member of, their path had naturally taken them to the ruins again. The scarlet male was irritated at her that she’d broken off from romping with them and sought Zethas out. But he’d lost interest in the argument the moment she’d changed her four legs for two and climbed into the canopy to find where the Mulgon was taking his rest.
He wasn’t hard to spot, now that she was learning his ways. And the climb up had been nothing to her, not with how often she’d been roaming around the jungle as an Ixam. But she’d come to talk to him about magic today, and she was hoping he had some insight. “Last time we spoke, you said you’d tell me about magic from your world. You said we followed too many rules here and that made our magics limited.” She added, prompting him since sometimes Zethas was vague at best. Though if questioned repeatedly, he’d usually relent and tell her.
“Djed in your world is so structured the way it is trained. In my world it’s vastly different, more freeform, though the techniques work in both places. Would you like to learn more?” Zethas asked.
Tazrae nodded thoughtfully. "Of course." She said with a smile even as the Mulgon dipped his head in agreement.
Words: 705
