instinctively , a sudden step back is taken , blood smearing as arms withdraw and rusted leg dragging cruelly against craved stone floor , less it lifts the limb and risks the chance of it’s knees buckling under it’s own weight . it’s whole form shuffles about to follow the general’s gait and thickly , nigh audibly , skekTek swallows ─── suddenly , in that instant , ACUTELY AWARE of being the center of attention ; finding the sensation to bring forth a sense of bareness , with no way to hide any minute twitch or fumble , a skin - deep discomfort that subconsciously draws hunched posture further inward . although there is truth to his words , and a logical mind such as it’s own cannot even dream of denying that . the stores of gelfling vliya run lower and lower by the day , even with the strict law in place that only their khrokon MAY INDULGE IN IT’S BLISS . there’s an irrational moment where the scientist theorizes that perhaps that is all skekUng came there for , to drink his fill of the nectar . it would not be the first time a skeksis came sticking their beaks in it’s cabinets , hiding their intentions under the guise of mutual benefit , and will not be the last … though skekNa is one it holds no true concerns over , he is far too unimaginative to have ambitions of his own .
but it needn’t stew in it’s paranoia for long , a much more concrete fear is implanted once the garthim - master lays his true ambitions bare .
❝ you can’t just say things like that ! ❞ skekTek half snaps half hisses , tone blunt . instinctively , it’s head snaps to face the central archway , AS IF SKEKSO HIMSELF would be looming there in all his imperial might , or perhaps another courtier who has such aspirations , for the scientist is not stupid enough to believe that there are not those who vie for the throne besides this brute , and it is not stupid enough to be surprised that he himself aspires to rule . they are all power - hungry in their own ways . another step back , head lowering / fidgety gaze now flitting from wall to wall , anywhere but meeting skekUng’s own . ❝ and don’t think me a fool , kenikosh ; anyone can make a claim such as that , but when have you shown even an iota of interest in my studies before ? ❞
but , that does not mean that the prospect is not … enticing . in all of it’s ambitions , the seat presently belonging to the chamberlain never once crossed it’s mind . it wouldn’t mind seeing the damned thing tipped over , sending him sprawling of course ( literally and figuratively . ) it’s goals simply pertained to the gain of respect , recognition , but to actually hold rank ?
it doesn’t trust the garthim - master , never fully will , but when it finally works up the nerve to meet his eyes again albeit briefly , a glint there says it all : ‘ keep talking . ’
skekUng, at first, fears that he had prodded a festering wound too quickly and too deep, and a brief spark of anger ignites in his own chest at the thought that skekSo would have wanted him to become like this, groveling at his feet and looking over his shoulder with a flinch at every vaguely emperor-shaped shadow. of course, the garthim-kherron will never admit just how much skekSo has indeed dug his way underneath his skin. how he’s taught himself to sleep with eyes half-open and to map out all escape routes before fully entering a room.
in a former life, back when their Khrokon had a clear head and keen ears, perhaps he would have heeded skekTek’s warning and bit his tongue, out of fear of being held down to face skekZok’s knives. but skekSo is naught more than a rotting corpse now, and the rest of the court are fairing little better what with this shortage of vliya. on the other hand, hundreds of trine in exile has left him free from the castle’s vices and has kept him strong.
no doubt if haakskeekah were to be proclaimed, he could test his metal against the stone and stand triumphant while skekSo crumbled like a leaf being trampled underfoot.
however, soon skekUng views that welcoming glimmer of intrigue in it’s remaining eye, and, fighting a smirk, he continues. “i was exiled. i could’ve hardly sent letters,” he reminds, “but my memory serves me well, nosharikh. you’re not consumed by frivolity or even an obsession with vliya. that’s why i’ve come to you rather than the others. besides, they are practically useless. they don’t have your mind. they’re too accustomed to being waited upon.”
he eyes the multitude of cages, spurs clicking against the stone floor as he continues to circle the laboratory table. “but not you. and not me. we’ve always had to claw and fight for what we deserve. as emperor, i’d merely be making sure that we never need do so again. i’d take the throne from a tekka we both despise, and the new wave of garthim would supply us with plenty of vliya. and as my right hand, well, you’d be welcome to any of it, as well as gain the respect and recognition you deserve for all your hard work.”
he glances at skekTek out of his periphery. “won’t that be sweet? finally getting something skekSo’s robbed you of?” he knows he cannot wait to taste it, to sit upon the throne and watch the being who has always acted so high and mighty crawl and beg for clemency. it was what should have been from the beginning. they were a fool to let an elder lead them--
jaw clenches, and he wills the memories to fade back into oblivion. no need to think about that. best let mysteries that reek of pain lie.
