https://tinyurl.com/ufdk43p

[magnetite_plz]

A trail of strange, unidentifiable red petals winds through the plaza this cold day in the Nexus. Not a heap of them, but enough small bits of brilliant red to pop out amid the snow and dreary ground to leave a distinct marking of something or someone passing through.

The trail leads anyone following it to Nike, currently brushing more of those petals out of her impossibly long golden tresses, her brow furrowed in concentration. It's more of an emotion than her countenance normally belies. She startles to see anyone approaching her and drops her hands from her hair quickly. Scrambles for a long piece of red and white cloth she's got folded into her pack.

"Apologies. I did have queries for the populace today." Her fingers grip and cinch the fabric between them, slowly working their ways down the length of the cloth. She fidgets with it while she addresses anyone who will listen.

"Why do people choose partners based on mere attraction? Out of dozens of qualifying attributes, why should something so unimportant have a disproportionate weight to the equation? The choice could be made based on compatibility of skills, or a mutually sought after goal or..." Nike trails off and with a sudden forceful flick of her wrist bunches up the fabric in her hands to flop against her thighs in clear frustration. The demon clearly does not understand and it's eating at her.

"Why do you do this?"

Comments

[magnetite_plz]

"Of another world, an Outsider, and yet welcomed by the sentience of your found home." Nike does not know how covetous she sounds of this story. The gaps in the back of her robes are soon filled by impossibly white plumage as her wings manifest and stretch out to their full height.

She is an Outsider to the world she serves, too. A creature untouched by the Traveler. Could she ever be accepted so totally by the world she has sworn service to? A humble low tier demon such as herself? A servant and nothing more?

"That is a fortunate story. Yours is....a unique case, I think."

[skeksisheretic]

"I think Thra needed our help - somebody needed to tell the Gelflings what they have to do to set things right. Bringing us together was part of that." skekGra the Conqueror, once the most ruthless of all Skeksis behind only Emperor skekSo himself, was an odd choice, but Thra works in strange ways.

He notices the wings, and nods in recognition. He's talked to angels before, though he's not sure whether this creature is one.

"We think so, too. None of the other Skeksis or Mystics want to be one again. Skeksis fear death above all else, both of body and of mind. Mystics are too passive. They only refused us. The Skeksis attacked us."

[magnetite_plz]

"Not only welcomed, but Chosen." Nike aches with this sickly feeling inside of her. She has never wanted something so much before but felt so cheated to be without it. The cloth slips from her fingers as they tremble.

"But you survived. You did as you were bidden to do by Thra."

[skeksisheretic]

"Yes, we did! Though I got this little trinket out of it." The Skeksis gestures to the nail in his head. "We had to go to the desert, but somebody did finally get the message we left and found us there."

To be honest, for all he liked his house at the Circle of the Suns, the change of scenery is welcome for skekGra.

[magnetite_plz]

"You were wounded in the process?" An injury or even a death in the doing of such a thing wouldn't be too harsh a price to pay for Nike. Why is she not worthy? Why can't she belong as this creature does in his new home?

She hurts. Everything hurts inside of her. Because the truth is obvious. She is not worthy. Her story will never be like this. But it is still so much better than the one that would have been written if she had stayed in her own realm. She should be grateful. She should be content.

So why...?

"I'm...happy for you. Both of you."

[skeksisheretic]

"The other Skeksis...well...they didn't take so kindly to our ideas. They beat us, and they banished us. The Mystics rejected us, but they didn't hurt us - violence isn't in their nature." As long as skekGra has lived, he only knew one Mystic, urVa the Archer, who's willing to use violence when it's necessary.

And as much as the Heretic has come to despise violence, he has to admit there are times when it's necessary - some people can't or won't be reasoned with. He just prefers to leave it to others. He's shed enough blood in his time, and has decided no more.

skekGra doesn't seem too badly affected by his experience now - it was a long time ago and nothing can be done at this point. However, the nail in his head and the binding around his secondary arms suggest exactly what happened.

"Thank you! We're happy to be together."

[magnetite_plz]

She must not speak. Even if Nike tried, right now, what would she say? Words to express the gouging hurt she carries inside of her do not exist. At least, so far as she is concerned. The demon covets everything about the life story that has been shared with her.

It feels as though there is poison in that story seeping into her.

Nike lets go of the cloth she'd been bunching against her thighs and lets it fall into a pool of fabric at the ground. She is a demon. She is a servant. She knows her place.

"I shouldn't linger here." The words drag out of her mouth. "With my queries advised I should..return to my post."