Slowly she turned her head to cock it at a slight angle, dark eyes narrowed as she looked down upon a familiar face. One that she didn’t rejoice in seeing. Her lips thinned for a moment before she offered a wry smile, “Aravas.” She too could play a game of politeness. Arlathan’s courts had taught her much, after all. Much that the shem’len barely emulated in their little courtly games. “You look as resplendent as ever.” For Hauen to be complimented in such a way: was it an honest phrase or was it pointing out that the only - insofar as Hauen knew - remaining plague victim remaining managed to look as terrible as the rest of them did, but no worse. Amusing.
She leaned against the wall near her, booted legs crossing, thumb hooked on a belt loop of her trousers. “It would appear that I could not swing a varterral without hitting someone I haven’t seen in ages.” Literal ages. Millenia, perhaps. “And suddenly they’re popping up as quick as humans breed.”
Aravas couldn’t help but notice the strain demonstrated in Hauen’s expressions, the stiffness of her movements. She knew she was not the most welcomed of guests. It stole the prior joy from her eyes and hit her with the brutal reminder of her past. Hauen was a close companion to a God, and Aravas, Atheris, so openly denounced them. But the days of their old gods were gone, and the tatters of that world must be a lesson to the new age.
❝ I can’t say I agree with such time frame, seeing that humans reproduce remarkably fast despite any unfortunate circumstances they find themselves in, but you must give our kind our due credit. We were a resilient people, we endured much during our time. It took much to rip our world apart, a force so great not even your Gods saw it coming. And while I am more than aware you do not wish to see me, you must realize we cannot sit and do nothing. ❞
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