A Worn Down Lizard
Focused on writing a letter of complaint to the current commander of the mercenary forces, Shekhar was apparently oblivious to everything around him. The scratching of his quill against the parchment stopped long enough only for him to dip it in the inkwell once more, his penmanship quick and efficient. It was also as controlled as his swordplay, the two so intertwined in his mind they might as well have been one. Which was appropriate, since he was having a battle of words play out over the strategy for holding the city.
He was concerned about the morale, and was suggesting a tactical retreat. Not without making the entire city a deathtrap for the enemy forces, and making it appear as if they were making yet another stand. Deception, as he kept insisting, was more important than honor in the current battle. Yet so many old fools insisted they show they were 'better'. The falcon didn't see how it mattered, if they lost they were dead, and the plan he proposed would inflict just as many casualties to their side as every battle up to this point. Except this time it would deliver a serious blow to Yirk's assault forces, and would make the warlord change his strategy and tactics in ways they desired.
In light of his frustration he still kept his strokes smooth, although he wasn't holding back in bluntness. He knew several of the holdouts to his plan personally, and the best way to get through to them was either be direct or flat out challenge them to a duel. Shekhar really wanted to avoid a duel, however tempting as it was. Spirits were too low, formal combat amongst the captains would sow more seeds of discontent and do nothing more than exacerbate the problem.
Finishing for now, Shekhar sighed in relief as he set his quill aside. Sealing his ink vial, he stood up from his stool. He turned around to see the door blocked by the large silhouette of a bear, in front of which stood the wolfess he had dealt with that morning.
"No quick movements birdie, or we'll kill everyone in this building."
Shekhar couldn't tell if it was a bluff or not, the wolfess was different than when he had seen her last. She wasn't a bored predator, this time she had a purpose about her. And something else was off, though he wasn't able to figure out what. "Get to the point. If you wanted to assassinate me you would have done so when I was writing. So I assume there is something you want to tell me, perhaps taunt me with."
Snarling, the wolfess slowly crept towards him. A simple dagger was in her hand, plain in its purpose. There was no need for an ornate weapon of death, after all. "I just like making my targets look me in the face before I kill them."
Lunging, the wolfess' appearance flickered for but a moment. It was enough for Shekhar to see exactly who was moving on him until the dagger was upon him at last.
Despite the forces on the horizon determined to capture and 'cleanse' the city he was in, Sunderfoot was calm. It all seemed silly to him. Yirk was a madman, certainly, and needed to be stopped. But it was not as if he threatened all of existence. In fact the common basilisk had no idea what Yirk was after, and didn't care all that much. He was just following Shekhar's lead. The falcon was in only a handful of people Sunderfoot would say he respected, and the only one he would follow into the depths of battle without question.
Bringing his pipe up to his mouth, he took a few small puffs off of it before letting his mind continue it's wandering. Fumes in the small room he sat in, the heavy scent of tobacco in the air. Dusty white trails blew out of his mouth and pipe, adding to the smell of the room. Only the scales covering were lighter than the vanishing shapes he blew out, making him out to be unwell. His left eye was permanently shut, the scars still visible, while his right eye socket didn't contain a true eye. It held a rough sliver of crystal suspended in a bubble of physical magic, giving the false impression of an eye. Blind but not, he could see as well as anyone, perhaps better in some instances. Light played no factor in how he viewed his surroundings, as everything emitted a unique glow.
His mind was still thinking on the odd tint the group they had passed by gave off. It wasn't the same as he was accustomed to seeing in the city, as it had traces of harsh determination with little to no fear, whereas he saw fear in everyone amongst the city. He would be lying if he didn't say he wasn't a bit afraid himself, which only made him more curious as to who that group was. The captain stopped them no doubt, since Krishna had lead the rest of the troop to the meeting. Even so, the basilisk wasn't so certain they had seen the last of that group. It mattered little at the moment, however, so the basilisk let himself be content in his alone time.
Taking a few more puffs off of his pipe, Sunderfoot's warning spells went off in his head. Instead of panicking he calmly snuffed out his pipe, setting the crafted wood by his bag. He was in an old lookout point in what was once a guard tower in the market that now served as a field hospital. It was all but abandoned, and he had taken a liking to sitting in the top most portion. The entrance was obscured in the haste of setting up the makeshift stations down below, and he had simply obscured it some more. But someone had managed to find it, by mundane means as far as he could tell, so the basilisk wasn't particularly concerned. Picking up one of his axes from next to his bag, Sunderfoot waited patiently. Laying the weapon across his lap and remaining in cross-legged position he faced the trapdoor.
The wood was thrown upward, a wolfess climbing up and into the room shakily. She was so absorbed in thoughts she didn't notice someone else might be present, despite the heavy smell of tobacco, until she turned and saw Sunderfoot with one hand holding his pipe as the other lay on his axe. Startled she stumbled and fell flat on her rear, the basilisk chuckling in amusement.
"Are you alright?" He asked politely enough, his voice surprisingly clear despite his species and appearance. The tints he saw on the wolfess made it clear she was recovering from injuries that had been life threatening at one point.
"Yes, yes. I just... I wasn't expecting you to- are you okay?"
Grinning, he set his axe aside and stood up in one smooth motion. "I get that a lot." Moving towards her, his body swaying with each step, Sunderfoot held out a scaly hand. She took it reluctantly, and once she was on her feet again he stepped back a few paces. "So, why are you here, hm? Only my captain knows where I run off to, most of the time at least, and he isn't inclined to send mundane messengers. Let alone ones who are still on the mend."
"I'm just trying to find a safe place to relax. Would mind a bit of company? You seem capable... And rather attractive, in an odd way. The good sort of odd, that is."
Smirking, Sunderfoot was deeply amused by how well the wolfess was handling herself around him, all things considered. Few people could keep eye contact with him, and she hadn't broken it once. From what he could tell she had issues dealing with people in general, something he could understand. The admitting flirting, however, he could live without. That part of life never appealed to him. "If you get to be blatant, I'll be as well. I'm not on the market." Slinking back to the place he had been sitting, the basilisk lowered himself easily.
"Ouch. Can't blame me for trying, though. Still not like I can do anything strenuous for a some time. And its old habit, I guess." Lowering herself to the ground, the wolfess hugged her knees to her chest. Thoughts raced across her mind and the tints around her. One he hadn't noticed dominated all others. Grief, a very overwhelming loss.
It sobered Sunderfoot quickly. An emotion he knew well- it was one that haunted him far too often. There were no words he knew that had soothed his pain, but company helped dull the ache in him. Perhaps it would with the wolfess before him. "I don't mean to intrude, or stir up a mood I know all too well, but who did you lose? The grief on you, in you, is fresh."
The wolfess looked at him, and the flare of tints he saw was impossible to read. It wasn't uncommon, a myriad of emotions at once blurred them together in a swirling mass with no discernable color. Her response was slow and careful. "His name was Yasen. My corporal, and... More than that. He died protecting us as far as we can tell. We don't know who killed him, or who nearly killed us. I-I never took our relationship seriously, but now that he is gone I can't stop thinking about him."
Sunderfoot nodded, his mood somber. He held his pipe, despite it being unlit, and stared into the small carvings in the wood. "Regret, that is the enemy you face now. It is very potent, and can destroy the memories of those you grieve. Grieving is hard but a part of life. Regret can help, but it can destroy. Or worse. There is a story behind all things, including this cursed eye and my white scales. Yours is not as far along as mine. Words aren't much, but it is the most this worn down lizard can offer right now. Ngh, you don't want to listen to me relive memories."
"It beats being alone," The wolfess whispered, her voice hoarse. Sunderfoot knew she had been crying for some time. Yet he had not expected her to show strength to this degree- then again she wasn't worn down with experience as he was. And if she was, well, obviously this stranger was a stronger person than he could ever hope to be.
So the common basilisk stood up and walked to her. Wordlessly he handed her a swatch of clean cloth to wipe the tears away, and sat a few feet from her. "'The only shame that can come from crying is not to do so when you need it.' A very strange dragon once said that to me. But I feel he was most certainly correct. But what do I know, I'm just a burnt out lizard caught up in a war that isn't my own."
A silence fell between them, somewhat awkward but not painfully so.