Star Wars Roleplay: Chaos

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The Spider and the Chiss

Blue lids shuttered to conceal burning orange eyes. The kiss, one given without request, was followed by an escape. It was overwhelming, to be so alone and feel so...appreciated. He recalled a time on Selvaris, how the Shapers did nothing but mock him as they tore him to pieces. And afterwards, he remembered the Warriors - treating him as a leper and outcast. Such a holy and righteous group, they couldn't be wrong. Yet here, with a being he didn't know or understand, he felt a fleeting presence of care with an unexpected grasp and tenderness. And as she pushed the book back to him, the momentum knocked the wind out of him.

Statuesque and stone, he froze as she pulled away, hand cupped where her face used to be as the book rested against his chest. Could he give something to someone, after being told he had no purpose besides to take? To endure pain, to cause it, that was all he had known. But she offered something more and were there emotions to feel, he was sure they would have surfaced. But sincerity doesn't come easy to those who can only recall it. And so he understood the situation in which it should have occurred, appreciating the shadow it cast, without ever seeing the light that formed it. But even in the shadows, vulnerability was a hard thing to kick.

"Would you guide me, Eske?" He searched her eyes, wondering if it was all just a joke, another cruel experiment by the Yuuzhan Vong. Was this another level to surpass, to approach the numbness of existing with the callousness that they so often displayed? "I...I am lost."

[member="Eske"]
 
"I will," she said in reply, tone gentle as though speaking to a babe, "come," delicate fingers reached towards him to take with his own, "come with me."

High above the ruins of Erudol the moons of Byss continued their silent, ceaseless journey across the sky. A wind picked up from the west, carrying with it the scent of man and his economy. The planet had gone quite for some time, the Arachneri had noted many a moon ago, and though the fleeting curiousity of why had gripped her then it was no more a pressing matter to her than was the quandary of a blackjay bird to a fish. Man and his cities and governance had for so long been a distant haze on the horizon to her.

Here in Erudol there was only time. What one did with it was entirely up to them.

The chamber she lead him to stood at the belly of the citadel - something that once in ages past had stood as a library hall. Three stories high, the walls climbed from floor to ceiling lined by shelves for tomes and books and datacrons alike. The vaulted arches of alabaster marble had long since crumbled to the ground and the years of weathering were quite evident. Bare shelves and a lack of debris were evidence still that Eske, in her tenure as caretaker of the ruin, had done well to salvage what she could. A raised flat of marble column containing a Scribe's tools showed that Eske had been hard at work transcribing the withering pages to new tomes of her own making.

"All that I keep here is yours to indulge in, though I am afraid the datacrons are inaccessible without an operative power grid - my only lament of this lifestyle," this said with a faint smile as she left Maalik's side to approach a glass case of datacrons, stroking a loving hand along the tarnished silver fittings.

"Can you read?" posed not with judgement but with earnest curiosity.

[member="Atham'aali'kema"]
 
Urgent, yet soft. The clutch of his hand was the most direct interpretation of guidance that he could imagine, a body numb and incapable of fighting it. Even the thought of being uncomfortable didn't come easy, though he would be hard pressed to experience such a sensation. He had been broken so many times, far beyond recognition, to even understand the notions of a comfort zone.

His eyes fell to the ground, the click and clack of her movement was soothing and rhythmic, a tempo that Maalik desired to understand. A gait entirely foreign, he would have been fixed if not for the grand gesture of the library to which she delivered. Sconces, burning candles, and braziers led the path as they entered. Large, full, he felt the years dawn on him as he investigated not only the shelving, but the chipping and dilapidation.

"I have no interest in datacrons..." He paused, mentally biting his tongue as he resolved the inner dialogue. Baby steps. "My shaping has born within me an unrestrained hatred for technology. I bare with it when I must but the headaches..." He looked back towards the shelf, walking down the columns. The pain, it will subside. Fingers found the grooves within the motley of red and yellow and brown and black bindings. Woven embroidery, hand crafted coverings, embossed lettering. He smiled at the feeling, it was comforting, if that was the sensation that spurned the raise edges of his skin. A sense of deja vu, as if to be calm and at ease was such a rare event, he could recall each experience.

"I once could read quite well..." he closed his eyes, reaching out with his fingers, as if hanging ornaments upon a tree. "The images are there but it is blurry, hazey...I can't make it out. To take sounds and make symbols, letters...they took that from me."

[member="Eske"]
 
"The great cancer of modern day society," Eske echoed the man, eight red eyes looking upon the case with baleful recognition of all the things technology had done for civilization and all the things it had destroyed, "it is a fascinating luxury of the intelligent creature. But tomes..."

Tchtchtchtchtchtchtch.....

A pleasing chorus of clicks sounded as the Arachneri glided across the hall, forward legs lifting to touch upon the book stacks with the same delicacy they might pick a flower.

"Ageless," she cooed, drawing gentle black fingers across the spines, "saturated by the heart and soul of their authors. Ah, but to read is to let them live again..." her massive figure lifted off the floor soundlessly as she climbed the walls before crossing to a massive vertical web crafted between the collums that gave her free access to all three levels of the library.

"They took a great deal from you," soft, pitying words, "and I would see it given back."

First with a child's book from a small collection found within the rooms. A tale of a fearless Treasure Hunter to reawaken the mind and rekindle the memories of a skill stolen. She read the book aloud for him without ever having to see the pages for Eske's mind was not one to be so easily tampered with nor had her memory ever failed her. She knew every word, and remembered every page, and she recited them for him with the panache of a stage actress, allowing him to follow in the book on his own.

[member="Atham'aali'kema"]
 
He smiled at the idea of her returning the things, stripped away like muscle and flesh flayed from the body. For all he knew, the world existed in a state of growth caused by intense pain. What he was taught likely coincided with such dimensions and concepts, brain stripped clean amidst the agony of a body torn to pieces just to be built up again. He wanted the thing back that she spoke of, though he hardly knew what he would do with it. Knowledge for the sake of knowledge, he struggled with the concept.

As she handed him the book, she opted towards the idea of acting it out. He smiled as she began, though only politely, as he didn't understand the concept at first. Once her showmanship took over, her enunciation and finesse, it clicked for him and he looked towards the book. Finger pressed hard into the thick pages, he followed along. Each spoken word received a set of symbols, each pause in words received and empty space on the page. That made sense to him as he bobbed his head in tempo.

Smiling, this was a memory he would value. He didn't know why, but as she moved about and graced him with the click clack of her movement, along with he disposition sort of thematic, he felt an odd weight lift from his stomach. Like he lost 10 lbs, he felt less impacted by the woes of his former life and the life he now lived. Suddenly, with a squint, symbols turned into letters, the building blocks he knew would lead to words if he just continued to follow along.

Pressing hard into the page and turning, he perked up. "Eske..." He looked towards her curiously. "Have you ever written any books? You seem naturally talented towards presentation and story telling." It didn't occur to him that he might be interrupting her. Between the concentration needed for the process and the idea of retaining a question, spontaneous questions were key. Otherwise, he might forget.

[member="Eske"]
 
"Have I?" the inflection of her tone was both with amusement and surprise at his question. A question of his own volition, no less, not prompted by the influence of a conversation. This was progress, or so she liked to believe, and how quickly it had come about.

"Journals," the Arachneri offered, "documentations of my dalliance throughout the stars, disclosing definitive details of dangerous dances and deadly degenerates."

Six lower eyes drew thin in a curled smirk as her forked tongue flicked at the air. The taste of recognition was ripe, delectable. "Merely a codification for the exceptional experiences of the far systems, meant only to stand as a legacy for when my spirit passes and the withered husk of my mortal coil turns to ash in the wind."

A shadow fell over [member="Atham'aali'kema"] as Eske descended on a drop thread from her web behind him. Four long white forelimbs enveloped his position, encircling the man like a cage as she slowly lowered her bare human torso at his back. Two ivory arms looped forward over his shoulders, presenting a new tome for him to take - red leather bindings aged and worn.

"My first, of Kashyyyk, my home planet," she spoke in his ear, the tepid warmth of her closeness nearly as strange as the clicking dialect of fangs over her words.
 
He didn't move to follow her movements, his senses beyond sight were enough to understand her position behind him. The ambient heat billowing from her bare chest, she might as well have been a radiator in a place so drafty. Her arms wrapped around him as he listened to her speak, words meticulously strung together in such clicking symphony. He felt odd as she spoke about her passing, such an ancient being making her way from this world. For Maalik, death was a certainty and one sought. But for Eske, he couldn't help but feel that the ideal should be foreign to her. Removed, time never ceasing such knowledge and experience. Otherwise, what was the point of learning and becoming something if it could be merely swept away in an instance. For someone like Eske, the fragility of life seemed almost unfair.

She spoke of Kashyyyk and he felt her embrace for the proximity, human torso pressing against Chiss back, as he felt a shiver run down the armored spine and body. Looking down at the book, he heard her speak of Kashyyyk. "I said I had never been to Kashyyyk..." he spoke, placing his hand on hers over the cover, opening the book. His other moved forward, fingers pressed against beautiful symbols he didn't understand. "But part of my indoctrination told of great defeat. The wookiees crushed by the Yuuzhan Vong some years ago. A fight for the One Sith, a victory for them." He looked over his shoulder and tilted his head. "Eske, tell me about your home planet. So that I may follow along."

[member="Eske"]
 
"If it is true," Eske hushed her voice, eyes momentarily drifting off towards the bare window frames that faced the west and the seat of power for the Sith at the capital, "then it is a defeat I do not know of. I left Kashyyyk many years ago."

Strange to think of the place under arrest--for Eske was not a backwards thinking creature. Not in the respect of emotional attachment. She was a creature of the here, the now. The then was simply a story only meant to be remembered, revisited.

There was not here and therefore had no range of causality upon her existence in so far as she was concerned. The ability of humans to fret over everything but what was present and pertinent often left her at a loss for words. It was something she came to understand as the direct reason for their short lifespans, for their fragility. But nothing lasted forever...

The hand upon her own drew her attention back and the Arachneri did smile to herself some. He stood so rigid there, like a statue of flesh and bone and compressed memories. Eske leaned to meet his gaze, crimson eyes glowing softly like eight somber lanturns. Her smile lingered, lethal fangs peeking from behind soft lips, "Of course, dear Maalik," the other hand lifted to stroke along his cheek bone, blackened fingers traipsed the line of his jaw.

She began to recite the words upon the paper, tone level this time to match the rhythm of the story held within. The story of her life, as it were.

[member="Atham'aali'kema"]
 
He listened intently, moved by the touch against the stone of his flesh. Pain removed, except for what he held deep within, concluded the loss of pleasure as well. It was said that the Yuuzhan Vong didn't experience things the same as all others. No true appreciation for taste, for art, for love or life. Well, they loved life, to the point of hatred for anything that wasn't, as they deemed, life. Such dogmas were hammered into his mind, reminding him that what he came from was so deep beneath the heel of where he was going, that he was hardly worthy the transition. But if he was born from their intent, as the world they painted would suggest, then why did he tremble beneath her gaze. The warmth of her breath so close to him, the scrape of her fingers across etched flesh. Torn apart of the sake of it, she mended it with every expression and gesticulation.

Had he been lied to, had the Shapers painted a false picture, a hidden door covered by carpet only to open with heavy footstep. He couldn't logic it out, the purpose of it all, but what thoughts were committed to it were soon swept away with the mannerisms of the creature before him and the words she uttered. A rich history of Myyydril Caverns and Shadowlands, trees that reached across the sky and beasts that fought in ritual for survival. Symbols became words as her breath drew knowledge across the pages, her movements distracting just enough to steadily dislodge indoctrination.

Squinting, he turned another page, wondering with such rich history, what would pull this magnificently gentle creature from her home. He would interrupt her again, to pull her enactment back to a personal engagement, with a curious tilt of his head. "Your home holds a portion of your heart. Why did you leave it?"

[member="Eske"]
 
"Home?" she said with strange delicacy, "Home..." the word hummed through her vocal chords with a deep resonance.

"It is a strange manner of many sentients to think that home can only be found in a singular location in time and space. Home is but a word used to define a place of living, yet many would argue, insist that it means more. It, in all it's conjured hallow glory, must mean more because we have so little. Home is where safety and family reside. Where comfort is found. Where love is made and lost. Where the mind is free to rest, to roam."

"Human perceptions of home that are as alien to me as I am to them."

"Home is where the heart is...that is what they say, yes?" Eske had rounded to his side and moved to take hold of the man's hand that currently pressed against the pages. She placed it just above her right breast where he would feel the strange alien beat of not one, but two hearts, the secondary located within her arachnid half but still pulsing strong enough to feel there, "They are here. They are wherever I am. Home is wherever I wish it to be."

[member="Atham'aali'kema"]
 
Her interpretation of home fascinated him, if such a being could feel the weight of intrigue. It was of particular interest to him because he felt the presence of limbo bear down on him, torn between two worlds and glued clumsily together. He had no home, in his own interpretation of such things, but for how she explained it, he could learn to accept something else. He could learn to appreciate that where he resided, that was his place as well. That his home was of his own volition, his own choosing.

Pulling his hand up to her bare chest, he followed her eyes and watched her full lips move. But the thud of her heart beats against his palm invigorated life where he had never known it, drowning out all other sounds. Or maybe he had, and she was forcing him to remember, to recall a life thrown away by someone else. Her flesh was warm against his palm, his fingers tapping against her chest to the rhythm of her dual hearts. His fingers drifted down her chest as he lifted himself up, pressing his ear against the beat in a lazy hug. His fingers dropped, pressing against her stomach, as he closed his eyes and wondered if this was what home felt like.

It was soothing, the rise of her chest and the warmth of a body that fought against the cold. Opening his eyes, book of Kashyyyk resting against the seat he once found comfort in, he looked down towards the arachnid portion of her body while entranced by the harmony of her life. She seemed so aware and he felt as a child should in her presence, wondering aimlessly through a world he didn't understand. Even taken to the sudden change in his thoughts, the ability to read slowly reclaiming a portion of his mind, he understood her for the wealthy being she was. And how poor he felt now, beckoned by the chronic charity and hospitality. "Are all of your species as beautiful as you?" He whispered, still overwhelmed by the revelation of the dynamic nature of home. He wasn't even sure he understood beauty but when he thought of her, he thought of that word.

[member="Eske"]
 
Lips pulled taught into a bare, sanguine smile.

This proximity, this closeness, this freedom of touch was reserved for a select group of beings. Mates, first and foremost, whose encounters were brief in the long span of her life, creating a boiling of internal instinct the moment Maalik closed the distance. It fought equally with another rivaling desire.

Prey.

The scent of skin and flesh brewed a hunger within her. How long since her last meal? Since the very first hum of activity on her web the need to hunt, kill, feast, had been a domineering process of her thoughts. But something changed back in the study. Foremost, Maalik was not a human - his scent was different, his aura foreign, and even the feel of his skin gave her pause. While these things did not quell the creature's instincts, it had redirected the flow of interest.

Intrigue truly was the best distraction.

This intrigue had grown a new web of thought - engendered a curious sense of care, of concern. Maalik's child-like understanding of life relit the flame of maternal response that had since long gone out.

To say that Eske was at an impasse with herself would be correct. The Arachneri stood quite still in his embrace, calmly watching over him with near fierce intensity. Feed. Mate. Nurture. The strongest of carnal desires waged war within her, simmering profoundly beneath her stoic, reserved surface. Those four white forelimbs that had encircled Maalik slowly drew backwards, curling upwards, tightly rearing back as if in indecision of what they were supposed to be doing.

"Are all of your species as beautiful as you?"

Black fingers reached to the side of his face and coiled back through the man's hair, kneading at his scalp with a gentle firmness. Her other hand slowly passed along his shoulders and back, curiously perusing the feel of the armored ridges in his skin.

"I hope so, sweet Maalik," Eske said in return, implying that she truly could not say. She'd met very few of her own kind in her entire life.

Her desire to feast waned.

[member="Atham'aali'kema"]
 
He wasn't exactly force sensitive, though he had his senses developed in a way to mimic it. Coded to give the appearance of a Jedi, his world seemed set upon the notion that he was everything a Jedi could be but absent the crutch of the force. He complied with that sentiment, his hatred for the Jedi was sporadic at best and paled in comparison to that of the Chiss. His own species, he lingered in the realm of misguidance. But for Eske, he could sense the turmoil of her mind with the sputtering of her dynamic and dual heart beat. Like constant palpitations, he felt her reel through emotions he didn't understand until words were spoken in response to his question.

Misguided, unknowing, his hands drifted to her ribs. As they moved back and forth with her breath, his hands followed along her flesh, as he lifted himself away from her chest. Taking in the whole view of her body, part humanoid and part arachnid, he shook his head in disbelief as he looked up towards the many magnificent moving menageries of molten marigold. "Can hope do such things?" He questioned, intricately aware of each slit that hid her perception behind them. "Make such impossible things, possible?"

He had never met another of her kind and he had never truly experienced the universe, not in the way that she had. But without affirmation, he would presume that such a well traveled being held doubt. And for the doubt she carried, Maalik might as well have transformed that into certainty. He was a child and he knew nothing of art or beauty, but where the void was left where such things once existed, he filled it with the being that now stood before him.

[member="Eske"]
 
"No," Eske replied softly, simply, two sets of her eyes drawing closed as his hands drifted again, "hope cannot do that, but it can raise those who believe in it well enough above the strife of sentience."

The Arachneri leant down until her own face sat mere inches before his, hands drawn from his figure to move down to his own where they rested against her ribs, "But of the few of my kind that I have known, each was beautiful in its own way. My mother liked to sing and her voice was like silk; my first mate studied the stars and knew each one of them on a map by heart; my second was a scientist that helped craft inoculations against disease; one of my children is an architect and designs breathtaking buildings across the galaxy..."

Hwwwwwwwooooooooo-aaaaaaaaahhhh.

The sound of rushing air from her booklungs, she'd stopped breathing with her human body to still the sensation of his hands there. Her forelimbs slowly unfurled, planting themselves forward around him again, the staccato of her heartbeats quelled.

"I have no reason not to hope or not to believe that the rest of us are beautiful as well."

[member="Atham'aali'kema"]
 
His fingers crawled up her flesh as she approached, her words and breath carried a wind that flowed through noisy arachnid lungs. But for the noise it made, he couldn't seem to hear it over her words. Chewing on the sounds, swallowing hard, his fingers found her throat and the vibrations of the sounds. With each word spoken through her full lips, his fingers felt the mosaic of it's vibrations across her skin. One hand above her heart, one over her vocal chords, learning for every step he took along with her. Hand in hand, he tilted his head to the side as he made no attempt to move towards or away from her. Perfectly content with her free form gesticulations, he merely spoke.

"I am no singer. I don't know the stars, I'm no scientist and I am no builder..." He said plainly, the discussion uncovering a form of self-criticism that went beyond hatred. He was a warrior through and through, not much more could be said of him. But was there beauty in that? The Yuuzhan Vong would say so, in their own non-artistic way, but he didn't care about their opinions. "Is there hope for me then, as well?"

[member="Eske"]
 
Tchtchtchtchtchtchtch-

The clicking sounded as his hand found her throat. Louder, more intense. The Arachneri was statuesque.

Hhwwooooooooaaaaa-aaaaaaaaaaaahhhh.

Eight eyes stared, unblinkingly, taking in the honed flesh before her. She could see his own pulse, see it, the line of his veins as evident to her as if someone had drawn a map in deep red upon his figure. Eske could taste the drip of her own venom upon her tongue, felt the coiling of primal instincts. She very suddenly drew in a long, deep breath through her nostrils, inhaling the Chiss' scent with a growing hunger.

Black fingers suddenly curled around those at her chest and neck, an impossible strength kept from harming the man by sheer will of control. A terrible fate abated by the keening of his tone.

"Indeed there is, sweet Maalik," she moved finally, the release of tension brought about by a formal decision to end this encounter early. Eske eased forward, plump lips pressing at the corner of his eye where she planted a kiss at his temple, "of this I am certain." She pulled his hands from her figure and within them planted the Kashyyyk journal, passed to her by one of her arachnid legs with great delicacy.

"I must hunt now. The hour is ripe," standing now at her full height, Eske slowly ascended her drop line, back legs reeling her bulk upwards with fluid grace, "stay or go, you are welcome here."

[member="Atham'aali'kema"]
 
He gripped the book within his fingers, the press of her lips against his temple sudden and brief. It was an odd feeling, remembering the sort of expression but not fully recalling it. He smiled as she spoke and lifted herself away from his grip.

"Yes..." He searched his own mind for an expression that seemed appropriate at the offer. "Thank you."

Was this his home? Was it where her heart resided, perhaps where his rested? She left him with more questions than the numerous answers she provided. Sage creature guiding a child through the darkened tunnel that was his current perception. He leaned back, sitting down in the chair, as he studied the book and it's symbols. Maybe she would share her feast with him, maybe not.

[member="Eske"]
 
No feast would be shared. As Maalik would learn much later on after Eske's return following a full sun rise and set, her quarries were tainted with the very potent venom of her kind. For any other than a Venoarch to partake would most certainly end in death. The certainty of course was not her own, but a verbal assurance as warning. She did not want for him to test his fate against what she had seen fell creatures twice his size.

Further reading was to be had. Kashyyyk was a long journal that detailed the memories of her youth and ended with her departure as a captured specimen. The fate of her mother was left unknown.

When Maalik departed the sun was high, casting the lands in a saturated veil of lucid yellow.

He did not return for a month.

~~~~~~

That fateful night was a dark one. Erudol's silhouette sat in the stark black backdrop, the edges of stone faintly outlined by a thin crescent moon. Heavy clouds drifted through the skies, dumping intermittent deluges of thick rain drops for brief periods of time. Lightning speared the horizon in brilliant flickers. Thunder sang across the desolate expanse of bramble fields, echoing down down down into the depths of the old citadel.

Eske felt the reverberations of the air through the sensitive guard hairs coating her body. By the light of candelabras in the underground chambers of Erudol she hung suspended upsidedown from a low web, quill in hand scratching words across a blank canvas of paper. Her induction into the Archive Hall of Byss had been just over a week ago. With Master Archivist Terrano's blessing she now transcribed and translated old scrolls by hand and that is exactly what she was engrossed in when the vibrations of movement within her webs alerted her to a new arrival...

[member="Atham'aali'kema"]
 
The actions of Mindabaal had left him...cold. He watched in indifference at the horror of what occurred, the thick carpet of blood across the floor while maniacs simply persisted. Maniacs, that was a cruel word, he thought, as he trudged through the castle-like offerings of Erudol. That wasn't fair, or was it. He had seen the likes of Mythos and Ophidia, taking offering of life as if it was a passing fancy. Was that what was expected of him, to kill simply for the consequence that it might provide? He didn't know what wrong was but this concept felt dangerously close to it. How could this be the right path?

Closing molten orbs behind blue eye lids, he remembered the woman cut down near the table of pastries and unremarkable fruit punch. Nothing like sparkbee honey, the taste was unforgivable for it's sin. The sin of being easily forgotten. Thunder struck in the darkness of the planet, the slayer ship hummed it's usual tune, in fear of the coming storm. But Maalik couldn't be bothered by such prospect, moved instead towards guidance. He felt at odds with what he had seen, fear welling upwards from open holes in the armored flesh. Fear that he was the monster that the Legion Yun'do created all along, that whatever mission he was given would be one completed without a seconds thought. He didn't want to be a tool.

"Eske..." He said quietly as he entered, unaware of any defenses that might be erected. "I need you..." He stated such things plainly. In the month he was gone, he had grown immensely. Learning to read, developing an understanding of Kashyyyk and the world that had birthed the wondrous mind of Eske. Maalik was a changing individual, far more changing then he would have anticipated of himself. "I need your wisdom."

[member="Eske"]
 
His voice would not be heard over the din of rain and thunder - a sound lost amidst the tumult of Byss' ever roiling corruption. One deep reverberation within the chorus of distant, persistent rumblings. It was his movements that alerted her. The smallest of unsuspecting touches upon a web would lead to the Arachneri's abandonment of her project to pursue that which might provide abatement of future needs. Having hunted quite recently would not stop her from naturally inclined opportunism; after all, the bodies kept so well once saturated by her toxic venom and wrapped in a casing web.

Silence of Erudol beyond the angry storm reigned supreme. Eske moved like a ghost through her domain, using side passages and open tunnels to follow the distant vibrations of her web. Upon reaching a crossroads of sorts she paused, eight spindle-digits waiting patiently for a sign. A tickling on her web.

Then it happened.

Maalik walked straight into a trap.

With a single unwary step the floorboards beneath him hinged open, dropping the Vong-Chiss straight down into the level below where a massive wall-to-wall prey web hung suspended to catch him, impossibly strong and sticky. The more one thrashed and fought it, the more they became hopelessly entangled. Eske moved with vigorous purpose, arriving on the scene only a few short moments after, figure emerging from a dark, cavernous opening off within a corner and skating with blinding speed upside-down along the ceiling.

TCHTCHTCHTCHTCHTCHTCTCHTCHTCHTCH

She came to a pause above her perceived meal, muscles coiled and lips pulled to bare long, lethal fangs dripping with venom - yet that scent. The frenzied clicking suddenly stopped. Her beastial features softened to that face of porcelain placidity.

"Maalik?"

It was more difficult to tell with the thick humidity of the air, but a flash of lightning through glassless bay windows cast a stark illumination across his figure.

"Be still, dear naly, I will free you..."

[member="Atham'aali'kema"]
 

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