Nathaniel was sitting in Wilwarin Inn, down in the ground level. Rather than being slumped over the counter as usual, he was sitting at one of the tables near the fire. It was a long and oaken table, and its darkly pitched wood seemed to fade into the surroundings. It was miserable outside, with a rainstorm full throttle and darkness peering in through the windows. The Wilwarin was in full throttle however, so the booms of thunder and crackles of lightening were lost on the patrons. Cheering, shouting, and more than a few giddy laughs drifted across the room as if they were a pleasant odour. Torches and candles lit the area well, placed high on the walls or the center of tables, where they could be safe from any bumbling drunks. The warm oranges were nothing compared to the encompassing bright whites streaking across the sky like dragons, but they tried. As far as the drunks were concerned, it also apparently worked as a fair substitute.

The ex-Captain didn't number amongst the ranks of the drunks; at least, not tonight. Tonight he was entirely sober, drinking a mixture of mead that was generously dosed with honey. Though not uncommon for the beverage, it was almost enough to erase the alcohol all together. A shame his liver disagreed, but then, everyone was a critic, weren't they?

Nathaniel found himself drinking it slowly, at any rate. A half-eaten plate of food was sat in front of him, the remains of a greasy slab of roasted pork and roasted potatoes donning it. It wasn't the cleanest plate in the world, and a few times he'd convinced himself the hair he pulled off was from his person, though how that was possible he knew not. Nathaniel's mind was elsewhere though, and the poor food was shuffled to the furthermost regions of his awareness. Right now his eyes were keenly locked on the door, waiting like a predator of the Taurerosa Rainforest. Any minute now, he would come through that door. Though what he would do when he saw the other he knew not. Would he approach the other, or let sleeping dogs lie? Would he look like the man he knew, or would age have twisted him?

There was always that voice in the back of his mind reminding him that this could be some cruel joke, of course.

Nathaniel had been thinking back on it though, considering everything that had transpired and all the evidence. There were things no other man knew -- couldn't know. Locations, dates, people. The secrets of making mutes sing and dead men talk, of the mundane existence on ships spent spewing over the side for hours at a time. Of bodies merging perfectly, of warm lips tasting of sweet cinnamon and hushed whispers between closed doors. His history was tangled up with the young lad, a boy only three years his junior and yet infinitely his student. The boy had taken to him like a student takes to their mentor, eager to learn what wisdom there might be. Perhaps it had been their personalities, or simply Nathaniel's appearance -- he had a penchant for looking older than he was, and had always been tall with broad shoulders, but somehow he'd been able to adopt the role of teacher. And oh, the things he'd had to teach Gustav.

They had their skirmishes, of course. The periods where they refused to talk to the other, sickened by the very thought of looking at one another. Those times their voices would carry long into the night, as sharp as their steel and as bruising as any blow. Other times they were close, sharing fond memories of a life before battle and even family. Of course, like Nathaniel Gustav had shared the ideal of a world wrought into perfection with a singular force governing. Back then he had been more timid, not as quick to lash out and begrudgingly accepting the rules of authority and dominance of others. Later, when he had turned to Skertin as his only ally, the young man had questioned his motives and sloppy work. Showing him the true way of things hadn't been difficult, even if it had taken some convincing.

And then... then he had lost his First Lieutenant. Somewhere between the walls of being disgraced and exiled he had lost track of his dear Skertin, and upon his return found nothing of him. The information he had sought out did not exist, and even the rats of the alleys didn't skree the name of Skertin Gustav. When that failed, Nathaniel tried to find his old friend through appearance, but that, too, came to nothing. Though the nobles in his network shared his opinions, they were far too seedy to be the old ally. So he had given up on him, assuming he was either taken in on charges and executed, or fled to some other, distant part of Ea to preach his ways. That had been the end of his search on the man he'd cared so much for.

Yet here he was, expecting him to arrive any time now. Why? For the past month and a half he'd been receiving things. Everything from a parcel containing a dagger with an engraved symbol he knew all too well, to a letter written and spoken with things no other could know. At first Nathaniel had thought it a threat. Perhaps the murderer of Gustav, come to take his life as well. But over time he grew to realize that it was quite possibly the man he'd given up on, the student he wanted so dearly. For weeks he had tried to catch the stranger delivering the items, though every time he missed it. When he approached the inn keeper, the man had kindly informed him that he was far too busy to remember who brought what where. With a few extra gold, he was able to jog just when they returned. The man said he could recall nothing else though, and Rystoff was wary to give coin if it would inspire the man to lies for wealth.

And so, here he was, sitting and waiting. His plate was half finished, the food long since cold, and outside the rain hammered against the building as if it may topple it. A few times he wondered if the messenger might not avoid coming on such a poor condition, but Nathaniel knew he would hate himself more if he went to bed and awoke to find that he had just missed the man. Contemplatively he lifted his fork, nudging some of the spiced potatoes with it as he waited. And waited. And waited.

The air of revelry and warmth was quite the opposite outside. There was hardly a soul foolish, or driven, enough to be wandering in the storm this night. Rain that pelted you, drenching your clothing and leeching heat away faster than one thought possible. It'd been more or less miserable the entire week, but tonight was the climax of the weather pattern. And naturally, demanding drama, was the night that the watching and waiting ended. Nothing special had been accomplished, she simply couldn't take the waiting anymore!

Clambering out of the alleyway, trying to avoid the heaviest fountains of rainwater, her lips curled slightly in a smile. This watery situation was much like that little incident further up north with a quiet little village. The scar on...that was on her left side had been well earned by the crude blade of an orc. The fighting had been horridly sloppy and confusing from the heavy rainfall turning the battlefield into a mud bog and concealing the enemy's movement. If she remembered right, she actually caught a cold that night. Which might, irritatingly, happen again.

Muttering an obscenity or three she pressed herself against the wall of one building and shook off her cap. It wasn't anything meant for battle, but it was a trimmed down hat to prevent the sun from being in one's eyes but keeping a full field of vision. The rain was dumped from the small pockets it had made in the worn-soft material before she slapped it onto her head of white hair.

She'd tucked it into her coat, making it a little uncomfortable but better than having sopping wet hair. Less noticeable as well. Not that having violet eyes was normal by any long-shot. which in and of itself was a reason she'd spent over a month with this ruse. She was terrified of Nathaniel's reaction to the changes wrought by that foul little creature. That incident had seated his resolve to burn them all to dust into an unshakable tenant, but at the cost of her once beautiful humanity.

Now what was she?

In-human, a monster, a freak. A woman, barely of the age of puberty if her guesses were right. Without signs of her condition reversing or at least giving her the dignity of aging. Things that might drive a man without a true cause crazy, but not him. Nathaniel was adamant about not wasting resources, and as flawed and twisted as she'd become, she could still be useful to their cause. Even at the expense of her life, after all, what was left anymore? Things would never be the same, and only a fool would hope so.

Taking a deep breath in front of the door, she reached for the door handle and grasped the cold iron. She could turn away, vanish like he had before. She could find a cure! Or at least fix her gender or something. After all, magic had done other legendary things in the past. What if he vanished before she got that though? Or was killed?

"Out of the way kid."

She was shoved aside and nearly toppled into the water-filled streets, but managed to latch onto the man's arm and steady herself for a moment. He shook hard and told her to let go, in an unpleasant fashion. Being of the size she was, her physical capacities weren't quite on par, normally. Feeling a slightly euphoric rush as her curse spread along her limbs, she pressed back with her improved strength and sent him off balance and stumbling.

"Cock-bite" she uttered with a sneer before swinging the door wide open, blinking a few times in the changing light and rush of heat. Someone yelled at her to shut the door from letting out the heat. Responding with only a mutter that one could guess contained foul-language, she shook her dark grey longcoat and hat free of rain after shutting the door on the man who went to enter.

Looking around with a bored expression, filled with annoyance, the violet eyes beheld nothing of real importance. This wasn't a place of scum, but it wasn't a dining hall of the well-to-do either. Her slitted pupils narrowed as her eyes softened when seeing Nate. Their eyes locked and her gaze broke as she looked down to the left, it was habitual. She never could quite meet his gaze for so long. It always bothered her but she'd cover it up with a laugh or hand gesture.

Walking across the bar's room towards him, she didn't hesitate to pull out a chair to his right and sit at the table. The flames from the fire played with the shadows cast by locks of her silver-white hair and hat. Was that what she'd be reduced to? A creature skulking about, only half-seen in the shadows?

"Hello...Captain."

Nathaniel felt his attention growing thin, and his face held all the signs of weariness. The potatoes he'd been prodding had turned to mush, and now he was simply playing with it. If someone had been brave enough they might have told him not to play with it, no doubt with some smart quip, but none of the patrons here were foolish enough. Though Rystoff didn't go out of his way to look for fights within here, he by no means backed down from them either. Usually the drunkards in this place were decent fare for him drunk, but with him sober it'd take little effort on his part. Even the most inebriated knew the sharp sting of his eyes, the hard set of his lips.

The door opened, and suddenly he perked up. Inwardly he cursed himself for such a childish display, but he couldn't help himself. Nathaniel's back straightened, his shoulders raised and he looked to the door with hopeful eyes. In response, a small woman entered -- short enough he had to lower his vision, in fact, for the man he expected was taller. Normally he would have dismissed her and looked back, but the look she gave him sent a shudder down his spine. Quickly the girl looked away, and he sneered to himself silently. Stupid child. She shouldn't be allowed in here. While his vision was on the door, waiting yet again for his old comrade, he found his attention shocked. By the same girl, no less.

She strode towards him, and he fixed her with the best glare he could as she drew close. Something caught his attention as the fire touched her though; her manner of dress -- so similar, so tangible. But how could she possible know Him? It would be foolish to think Skertin had the only type of clothing; the man hadn't been much of a tailor so he doubted the clothing was custom made. Incredulously, she didn't waver in his glare, in fact she took no time in drawing a seat for herself. Nathaniel's anger boiled down to confusion, and he stared unsurely at her.

"Hello... Captain." Nathaniel tilted his head at the name. Spoken so simply, so easily. Clearly this woman was trained. He shifted in his seat, straightening a little and drawing his legs close. "Though I appreciate the gesture, believe me, I do," He eyed her down with an expression that said anything but. His smile practically tracked tears of revulsion. "If I want company for the night, I will personally seek you out. I am busy and have no intentions of sharing my room tonight. I'm waiting for someone." Nathaniel looked away, down to his side, drawing out a few coins. "There, if you are so desperate. Go... buy yourself a drink, or the like."

That said, he shifted and looked to the door, ignoring her entirely. He fully expected her to get the hint and leave. Some part of him marvelled at how young the girl was, and consequently how desperate she must be, but it was only a small part of him that was ignored and silenced. The door might open any moment to reveal the Lieutenant, and he intended to be fully prepared. Mechanically he closed his gold pouch, shifting in his chair. Obviously he knew not the irony of his casual dismissal of the young woman, though there was a chance he would learn of his blunder sooner rather than later.

Come, Gustav. It is not like you to be caught in the rain...

There was obvious hostility, but what did he expect? A teary-eyed reunion at first sight? More likely to receive a sword in the gut if Nate was irritated and thought she was impersonating Gustav and let anger get the better of him. That'd be an amusing end, dying while trying to convince their friend that she was actually Gustav. It was annoying to be on the receiving end of this treatment, but not in a "Oh so this is how it feels?"-fashion, but in the sense that his weakness was preventing victory.

The look he gave her while giving her patronizing words shook her deeply. It hurt as much as a sword wound, worse because the cold pain couldn't be removed like steel. The sarcasm that dripped from his tongue irritated her, it was difficult to try and make him understand! She had the memories, but little means of proving such things. And if Nathaniel got paranoid enough, he might start blatantly accusing her of things she couldn't disprove. Which might result in an "interrogation.".

She picked up one of the coins, talking as though it seemed to it than Nathaniel. Give her a sword and a crew of soldiers and she'd take on a dragon, but just put her in an awkward situation with Nathaniel and all her courage vanished. she was running off of apathetic hopes, whatever happened would happen, at least she tried.

holding up a coin in front of one eye, the other reflected the light of the flickering flames before going back to the inhuman slit. such a cosmetic alteration, but a revolting one. "You were mentally shaped many times in my service on the City Watch with you, I was...physically shaped, quite unwilling, during my evasion when the rebellion failed."

She didn't hesitate, instead chose to press with questions. Perhaps let her statement simmer inside of him and plant the seeds of revelation. "What're you doing in a place like this Captain? What happened after the riot? We were...a bit distracted evading capture in the wilds to enter Lomedor and find out for ourselves."

Right now she was at least associated with his group, to a degree of which she'd be in his inner core. the other rioters hadn't killed a squad, or two, of City Watch. Granted he might call her a lair and slap her in a bough of fury. She might've become stronger and faster than him in this time, but even if she was she wouldn't stop him. She wouldn't even fight back if he got violent, just try to evade and explain the situation.

Oh, the joys of confusion.

Nathaniel paused when he heard her voice, shoulders slumping slightly as he begrudgingly turned his attention back to her. Does she want more coin? This is ridiculous! She should be out in the streets begging if she is so desperate as to-- And then he stopped. His thoughts simply, ceased along that train of thought. The door faded to sight, and instead in came this young woman who barely looked over fifteen. With silken white hair the colour of sacrificial mares, and eyes as vibrant a violet as the dying sky, as the sun sets. She didn't look right, in fact she looked downright demonic. Her eyes weren't helping that at all, his attention drawn to them by the fire burning nearby.

Yet... her words held something to them. Perhaps it was how her words of a City Watch slipped so simply from her lips, or how comfortable she seemed. No, not comfortable. Familiar. Frowning, he shifted so that his full body faced her entirely. Indeed her words did inspire some of his own, though he bit his lip and bade her to continue. Nathaniel was curious, now. Was this a game, some sort of ruse? A dare she had been put up to by her friends?

But no, her words held too much conviction in them. The way she so easily deferred to him as Captain...

A name yelled during the night, one he had to hush. Then, hours later, he would ask why Gustav called him such, promising the stars above and offering his name. Though on occasion the might other call him by his last name, it was difficult to pry the name Nathaniel out. Even harder was grinding out the habit of calling him Captain. Then again, it wasn't as if the title didn't have a nice ring to it. He figured for all the perfection the other exuded, it was only fair he'd have a few flaws. That, and, well, he'd never mistake him for another. Not with the way he spoke the name, the way the letters formed in his mouth and the sound carried. No, there would be no way to mistake his Lieutenant. What pleasure that had given him under silk sheets and in dark rooms.

So now...now Nathaniel was pulled. Carefully he eyed the patrons around, then leaned forward to speak to the 'girl'. "What do you know," Nathaniel's voice dropped low now, dangerous. Warning of the danger a misstep might cost. "Of my time on the City Watch?" He had paid good time and money to have that forgotten, erased from the history books. There were still those who knew, but they were far and few in between. Most importantly, they made sure not to outright ask him about it. But if this was who he thought it was... If what the other spoke was truth, then...

It was only fair to ask one more question. "...Gustav?" An onslaught of fear touched him, the terror of making a fool of himself. Humiliating himself before the other. What if she didn't know of the name; what if this was just a coincidence? What if... What if? Too many what ifs! The only thing he knew for sure was that this stranger had successfully drawn his attention away from the door and onto her form. Dark blue eyes met slitted purple ones, refusing to yield and trying to probe the depths for the answers he sought.

She was winning, her objective was within her grasp. Her situation had become more tenuous though, but that was how all battles were. You were closest to defeat when turning the tide and grabbing for that win. Nathaniel's attention had been grabbed and yanked in, and all that was needed were a few choice words.

Fumbling for a response, she was taken back as Nathaniel leaned in and spoke that one word. Just a name, nothing more. That name carried such weight with how he spoke it, she'd probably be slightly less impacted than if struck by a warhammer. Which had happened once, bloody crazy ogre tried attacking the captain over the issue of who got the most kills that day.

Her heart was hammering a lightning beat in her small chest. Her eyes wavered for a moment as she felt his breath on him, bringing back a rush of enjoyable memories, but each laced with that dread that such a thing would never exist again. Not with the way she was now. so close, did she dare steal just a moment of that attention she so desired, craved, needed?

She remembered them very well. Watching them while the captain slumbered and she would stay awake. Unable to sleep partly from the sounds outside, and partly from fear of an elf sneaking into the tent to murder him. People were so peaceful when asleep, beautiful, angelic even. Quite the opposite of she was now, the by-product of some demonic energy and unholy ripping of the fabric of reality.

With but a slight imitation, she emt Nathaniel's leaning with her own, for a quick and brief kiss before pulling back. It wasn't the same, but she was greedy and wanted that moment. If she were too die, she'd be mroe content now at having at least touched him one last time.

Without blinking, she responded in a quiet tone, but no less echoing a yearning and hint of fear that was evident in wrinkles around Nathaniel's eyes. "Yes Rhystoff."

Nathaniel was taken back at the kiss, confused even. Here was his Gustav, his Lieutenant, but at the same time it was a young girl with demon eyes and white hair. Her physical appearance seemed to mock the once noble appearance of Skertin, and silently Nathaniel entered a pact to not only see about curing it, but also thoroughly repaying whoever had been responsible. As for the kiss; though he didn't lean in, he most certainly did not pull away either. He watched those soft feminine features as she leaned in, searching for some part of his friend. He found it in the mannerisms, but not the flesh.

How disappointing. When the kiss ended, which was actually rather soon (Skertin always had been shy, he reminded himself, and it only made sense that in this form he'd be even more so), and as soon as they were a decent length a part Nathaniel leaned back partially. The confirmation of the other, of him, her, or it -- whatever the right term was, gripped his being. For a moment he felt like a rabbit, caught in the twisting talons of a hawk. Then air filtered into his lungs, the organs resumed working, and no oppressive force was crushing him.

"Gustav..." Nathaniel's voice was still quiet, but held with it an affectionate note. When he rose his hand and swung the palm at her it was not quite so affectionate however. He didn't bother waiting to ensure it connected, and the gesture tore his voice into malice as well. "Where in Morring have you been?? Have you any idea the lengths I went to searching for you?? Trying to find any information I could?? They said you were dead! And now, now of all times, you come crawling out of the sewers like a filthy rat?!"

He rose sharply, though the chair was still behind him and he was still leaning over the table. "You've a lot of gall if you expect I'd welcome you back with open arms. After everything that has happened, all the changes... Only to learn my best man was hiding in some forest?!?" This viciousness wasn't actually that unusual, not in terms of how he treated the other. Though Nathaniel could be given to charming moments, perhaps even kind ones, he was just as easily pulled into violent tantrums and screaming fits. One argument had led to him loosing his voice, the whole of a week spent with a grating and hushed whisper. How he'd appalled that.

"You abandoned me, Skertin. Only two men remained. Two men I can't even recall the names of! And you know why, Mr. Gustav?" The name was hissed slowly, with unusual emphasis on each word. "Because they were slaughtered like sow! Executed, while I survived!" Nathaniel drew back from the table, standing up straight. He could choose to leave now. Abandon this mess and never see the mockery of a face before him. Cling to the memories he'd had.

But no. This was too much-- too far. This demon had tainted the name of Skertin, and now s/he was going to get an earful. Like a massive beast on the prowl he moved along the side of table and towards Gustav, speaking the entire time. "You fled, and you let yourself become tainted. What else should I do, but end your existence now? Why let a man live if I cannot be assured he will have my back?" A grin touched him, but it was dark and seemed more like a frown somehow. "No, not a man. A woman. And a demon one at that. Will you sew clothing, Gustav? Or perhaps your intentions are to bake for an army??" He gestured violently to the bar keeper. "I hear they're in need of good waitresses."

And then he turned sharply on Gustav, his back to the female as he started to walk away. It was amazing what one would do in the heat of a violent temper. Though, certainly, he would live to regret it if he continued on the path. Such was the power of Gustav; he could confuse Nathaniel so easily that one moment he was revered as a savior and the next he was a spited devil. Sometimes in the span of a single sentence.

As he leaned back, it was like watching the calm before the storm. she could backpedal, or rise to meet this coming conflict, but it wasn't the time nor circumstance for that. It'd be better if Nathaniel vented and got out his frustration now than say, through a pillow smothering a week later.

The hand rose, gracefully and powerful. Like a maestro conducting an orchestra, sure of itself, fluid but also unyielding. The smack was a solid one, and she was a bit surprised herself at the force in it, turning her head to the side, but still her inhuman gaze was locked with his.

The sounds of the other patrons faded, whether they'd actually quieted down at this spectacle or had simply been tuned out, she didn't know. The coin she was holding clattered to the table, seemingly deafeningly as it bounced a few times and landed. The now free hand touched her cheek that was warm to the touched and red from the impact. Likewise her other was burning with a shame

I'm sorry...

She couldn't utter the phrase, knowing full well it'd just infuriate Nathaniel more so. Instead she sat still, watching him and taking his yelling without recoiling in fear. It was just about the only thing she could do, to turn away was to prove that his fears of weakness were well founded, to get angry would just add fuel to this fire. She couldn't let it just burn out though, she needed to prove that only her flesh was different.

"I did not abandon you." Her voice was calm, but raised so as to be heard without being lost in the yelling. "It was you who taught us to not waste resources. We attempted a break through to free you, but failed. Rather than attempt to butcher the entire City Watch, we instead chose to withdraw to consolidate our forces for a later strike. We thought you'd been executed a long time ago actually Captain."

As Nathaniel stood up, it was only a bad thing. Things were escalating. To rise would be to challenge, to sit would be to submit. Neither seemed very good. so instead, she simply scuffed the chair on the floor to face him. Meeting his aggression, but neither asking for a fight or rolling over and dying.

His jaw tightened at Nathaniel's accusations. blaming him for the misfortune that befell him. Had Nate change more from the last time? Very likely. Maybe inhuman was inhuman, without any use. That was an idea, she did not like. Not to preserve her existence, but she knew she could be useful in combat still! Nathaniel's views on women be damned, he wouldn't submit to such a humiliating position!

Standing, to the point of almost leaping, Skertin was glaring at the Captain. sometimes he went a little too far. "Captain you know Lothdamned well I wouldn't have asked for this! And don't doubt for a second that my capabilities have diminished in my little isolation from civilization while you've been living here in a city as a civilian!" He was emphasizing each point by pointing with her hand, soft and delicate but powerful and erratic.

She paused for but a moment as a wry grin came across her, it wasn't at all a time to be smiling or amused, but this seemed like old times when they'd bicker to the point of actually drawing weapons. They'd both changed, more ways than one, but were in essence the same people. "You're just scared of a girl doing better than you."

The sound of the chair moving as Skertin leapt up made Nathaniel turn sharply, and quickly he'd spun on his heel to hear what she had to say. His words were almost enough to inspire the other to draw his blade, though he forced himself to keep that need down until he'd heard the other out. He'd rather this not end in a bloodshed; he liked his clothing unblemished and it was a decent repayment for what Gustav had been. An effective way to sever ties.

Every jerk of her hand made him tense though, the flinches wrought not from fear but anger. A growing urge to be done with this. Nathaniel mostly steadied it, instead keeping his eyes narrowed and lips curled up into a sneer. A civilian?! He knows nothing! Gustav was brave to say his skills had not wavered in the time away, especially given the new form he inhabited. After all, Nathaniel could very easily put that to the test by summoning the whole of the bar to attack. Even if she was as powerful as last time, her height and their numbers would be a stinging reminder of failure.

His hands clenched as her words faded, and he prepared to respond with his own barrage of insults and snarls. However, the upward curl on the delicate face made him pause, and instead he stared in confusion. The boiling rage in him died away, the burner turned off and the fire extinguished. It was hard to be mad and confused at the same time, and so instead he stared at her, dumb-founded. After a moment even his shoulders relaxed, and he stood a little straighter.

"You're just scared of a girl doing better than you."

You're just scared of a girl doing better than you. The words echoed in his skull. Were she anyone, anyone else, he would have brandished his blade in fury and cut off her head without a moment's hesitation. Instead he moved towards her slowly, the wooden floor creaking under every step he took before, finally, he stood a few inches from her. The height difference meant he had to look more or less directly down at this close of a gesture, but he didn't care. Nathaniel's eyes were dark, searching, his lips still wearing that scowl.

Then, like a slow tide in the morning's rays, it fell into a frown. "I missed you, my Lieutenant." A smile curled his lips, though it was faint and any other would deny it having existed. "No one quite infuriates me as much as you." Nathaniel might have drawn him into a hug were it the old comrade from days past, ignoring the social revulsion at such a public display. However, times had indeed changed, and his dear Gustav was a short young woman-- girl, who he'd have difficulty hugging at best. So instead he set his hand on her shoulder; a large one, no less, and squeezed it firmly in substitution.

Then he turned from the other, taking his seat once again at the table. "Come, Gustav. What has led you to seeking me out, hm?" Nathaniel smirked. "I daresay it isn't my looks." Carefully he began to collect the coins he'd placed on the table, including the stray that had attempted to flee from the quarrel. With precision brought on by years of practice he replaced them in his pouch, then again looked to Gustav expectantly. He wouldn't beg, or ask. He expected the other to all but read his mind; to know he was expected to sit right back down and speak with Nathaniel, as if the argument had never occurred. "You still have that zesty spark, I see."

Well, perhaps he didn't want to ignore the argument altogether. But the previous hostilities were certainly tossed to the wind, in light of the current situation. This was so typical; a vicious fight that lasted a short moment, and then simple friendship and a patching of it. Rare was it their fights actually led to drawn out separation, though he could recall at least a few times he'd gone a day without speaking to the other. Such was the drama of life, really.

She had felt herself foolishly getting dangerously irritated, the subtle sense of her physique changing under the skin and become hardened and condensing muscle to make her stronger, in a reflection of Nathaniel's hatred. Despite this however, and even having removed her attention from repressing her curse to argue in a heated state, nothing happened. Odd, most defiantly. Nathaniel had an air of suppression perhaps? On the surface, there was turmoil and confusion, but inside, deep inside her mental state, she was calm. Or at least complacent. It made sense in a way, the relief at just confronting Nathaniel and being in his presence. Like a Mother's warm embrace

There was a moment of hesitation as Nathaniel approached. The flinty eyes were quite unreadable, and she couldn't tell quite what he was feeling. It was like trying and guessing what was what in a potion, it never turned out to be correct. And then there was that melting away of disgust and hate on his face and emotions.

"No one quite infuriates me as much as you."

"That's my job Captain, the other rookies don't have the guts to pester you. So I get shafted with being the Raku's advocate. And make a joke about being hen-pecked by me, I swear I'll gut you with my own hands."

Skertin was only joking, her tone sounded serious, but she never really did vary her pitch. Always drove people new to her crazy when (s)he would talk to them off duty. Jokes wasn't her strong point. She almost gave a true smile, but tried suppressing it in order to appreciate the levity of the situation. Which only resulted in a moderately comical face twitch. He laid a heavy hand on her shoulder, and a slight rippling sensation coursed through her body. It was nice, considering what'd she'd become, this was a monumental outpouring of affection.

"I daresay it isn't my looks."

Skertin had taken a seat after Nathaniel sat. That tradition was as much apart of Skertin as was his name. You can take the man out oft he military, but not the military out of the man. Of course Robyn also took the man out of this now-woman, so perhaps it wasn't entirely true.

"I wasn't quite inspired enough to continue the good fight. Not without your ugly mug as our poster man."

She was giving him the same half-smirk, rarely did she ever smile. It was about as common as usage of Nathaniel's first name. Unless of course they'd pulled off a decisive maneuver and were about to initiate the mop-up phase of battle. Her eyes were tracking his deft hands, her gaze distant as she thought about a few other uses for those swift and powerful hands.

snapping awake at the clinking of coins she paused for a second to recollect her thoughts, "Er...actually I've been searching for awhile now. It took me a good chunk of time to locate you, thanks to the size of the city. And...I was more than a little nervous over my reception for obvious reasons..." There was a brief, contemplative pause before she tried dismissing further dwelling on the subject, "I noticed something awful. What happened to our time Captain? All I see when I look around is half-breed, half-breed, half-breed, elf, elf, elf. Was humanity enslaved while I was away!?"

Skertin's voice had dropped in volume a little, not desiring to be heard by the other patrons too much. Hate speech tended to irritate people, especially drunks.

Nathaniel finished putting the items away, listening. There were still some jagged edges to that voice, one that had avoided fading into the obscurity of feminine mannerisms. It pleased him, though he would have been more pleased with the real voice of Gustav. This body's vocal chords clearly weren't the same, and it was an issue he'd like to address. All the attitude of his lieutenant, and nothing else. Perhaps this was some sordid test, to see how shallow his feelings were for the other man?

He didn't respond to the comment of posters, didn't need to. A sly smirk caught his own expression, and he knew Gustav well enough to know the other might wear such, even in as public a place as this. The two knew each other inside and out, and it was what saved them so many times -- or it had saved Nathaniel, at least. Many times he had been able to get no words out to Gustav, and still the other operated as if he had. Sometimes he had thought Gustav had known what he wanted before even he was certain, though such boyish fantasies were better left unspoken and he usually dismissed them. The two were in sync, that was all that mattered.

"Yes, the city has fallen to quite the state." Nathaniel muttered gloomily, though seemed to catch himself before a breath of a sigh could escape. Straightening, he glanced around suspiciously. Then he leaned in close -- closer than he would have if the other had been in his usual form, Nathaniel noted with irritation, and spoke in a low tone. "That's not to say there aren't those who enjoy the state. Already I have things working, processing... A few strong allies that will bring a war to shake the halls of the Vala." He leaned back, a wicked gleam in his eyes. "I don't care to speak of it often, but... I'm sure we could find something. Behind every strong army is a strong cook." He smirked at his own playful taunt, the gesture doubling to lessen the serious air about them. Not because he didn't like it serious; because there were those present who needed to believe they were drunks talking, with no real plans.

Better the snake in the grass than the dragon in the open. Though if everything went as planned, they'd be the latter soon enough.

"There is a private place we can go, if you'd rather not be surrounded by this lot. Unless you'd rather get something to e--" A loud screech sounded overhead, and he glanced up to spot an agitated Snow Drake swooping over. Nathaniel tilted his head faintly, as if curious, though that darkly pleasant attitude he was upholding didn't falter. A few other drunks looked up at it, others ignoring it entirely. The animal paid them no heed, simply landing on the table and hissing at Skertin. Nathaniel merely grasped it by the scruff of its neck, pulling it off the table.

"That would be the other thing I should inform you of." The creature continued to fluff its wings out and swing its pair of tails, though the gesture wasn't as obvious now that it was on someone's lap. Leaning close, Nathaniel breathed more of his plan. "We were out-numbered last time, and many other species have talents that take more effort than is worth to burst through. My intentions are to harvest those of half blood, ones with some civility still in them. We can use them like dogs, sick them on their own kind. If they lose, we're one less of their kind. If they win, we have an expendable mutt. When they outlive their usefulness, we finish their reign as well. It prevents human casualties, and even allows us to strike some of them while they suspect nothing."

Nathaniel drew back, stroking the soft fur of Jakabok. It hissed softly, still watching Gustav with a lack of trust. "This one isn't terribly bright, but he's quite loyal. Imagine; the carrier falcons of our enemies intercepted and devoured, their messages brought to us so that we know what they plan in advance." The nails of the snow drake clacked as it brought its wings together, curling up. It continued to hiss faintly, a single yellow eye locked on Gustav warily. Jakabok was terribly territorial, which was something Nathaniel didn't mention. At the moment, the animal was trying to decide the best way to kill and eat Skertin. It'd gotten up to method 132.

"Well, Lieutenant? What do you think?" Idly he fed what scraps of roast meat remained on the plate to the bird, who tore and lashed at them as if they were still living. Practice for the oo-man. Nathaniel watched Gustav intently, eager to hear the opinion of one so valued. Though he'd spoken to many in the absence of the other, none of them had been as interesting, nor had he trusted their thoughts so much. True, the alliance with Tithdaeron was a fierce one on Nathaniel's side. But that didn't mean he trusted the elemental anymore than he could throw a dragon.

Anika! The thought occurred like a bolt of lightening striking a tree. Did he tell Skertin of her, too? How would the other react; would he understand it was merely business? Though he would tolerate no less, he knew the other was cunning enough to get Anika while she slumbered. Things had gotten terribly complicated, it seemed. For now, Nathaniel said nothing; he waited for Skertin's answer, listening faintly to the sound of tearing meat.

There was that tinge of defeatism in Nathaniel's voice. He was covering it up pretty well, and more than likely refused to accept it. Reality was very much different, Skertin was almost certain his generation wouldn't see the glorious war come to an end, maybe not even start. It would be future generations who would enjoy the pure-human existence of the New World, not monsters who worked to craft it like herself. That's where true devotion was proven. When one would fight and die for a cause, knowing full well that they would not live to see their cause fulfilled even if they lived to a ripe old age. That Nathaniel had continued planning, preparing, and looking forward to this despite horrendous setbacks wasn't a miracle. It was to be expected of course!

She gave a slightly amused grunt at the cooking comment. Truth be told she actually enjoyed cooking. Something about the art of taking all these unrelated things and combining them to make something exquisite, much like planning an operation. Only instead of ingredients you have soldiers, weapons instead of spices, and bloodshed in the place of a fireplace. He had no talent for the few times he tried, typically only having the skills necessary to make food in the wild. His views on women stopped him from even asking a true cook on how to do it, let alone help her. So he'd typically just watch, occasionally jotting down the names of various things in short order around the kitchen. If you're going to eat, might as well enjoy it.

At the loud screech she didn't jump, but had visibly backed up in her chair, hand clenching the table a bit too tight. If it wasn't for the loud noise from the snow drake, someone might have heard the wood stressing and noticed the splinters around her gloved hand. Calming down a little at the sudden surprise from the animal, she pulled herself closer to the table with a low growl in response to her hiss. She was still a bit jumpy, especially after a good week or so with little rest.

"That's an idea...but I wouldn't want to throw away lives like that at the end just because they became less useful. Even in death they should be used to further the cause. Even if it's something as simple as becoming martyrs to be remembered later on in life..."

She would, and happily, slit the throat of a half-breed without hesitation if asked to. To kill former and valued comrades was a different story. she wouldn't hesitate to do so, but wouldn't enjoy it either. She'd be more than content if they were given a decent burial and a memorial of some sort. Honor the dead in how they helped living. Nathaniel was right though. Half-breeds gave them access to abilities humans didn't have, and their filthy blood could be washed from the New World once the glorious war was over, much like the drake.They should be remembered, even if vile though.

"It'd also be a challenge to convince most of them to hunt down the other half of their blood. And any infiltration risks betrayal of us by them. A useful idea...but we'd need some form of assurances that they'd operate to an efficient degree."

There was a slight squealing growl from her stomach and she held a hand to her clenching organ. with a slight "heh" she looked up, not really embarrassed as a real lady would be, just annoyed and amused at the need for food.

"You know...I might take you up on that offer for something to eat..."

If Nathaniel saw Skertin's reaction to Jakabok, he made no mention of such. In fact, he didn't even seem to notice the noise she made. The creature, on the other hand, took great delight in hissing softly. The effect of such a noise was a sneer it pulled off, which was thoroughly unpleasant to look at. Nathaniel took no time in gripping the beak shut in one hand, silencing the creature. He didn't even look to it, merely remained fixed on Skertin as if it weren't happening at all.

Her comment about letting the pawns be remembered fondly made him frown, though. Nathaniel might have even sneered, were she not who she was. Unfortunately, the comment brought back memories like a tidal wave upon the docks at Port Adune. One of the few things the two didn't have in common, that labeled them from different families. While Nathaniel wanted all other races eradicated, Skertin had wanted a proud and strong nation. Though they usually went hand in hand, it was times like these the differences made themselves known.

Jakabok made a wheezing noise through his nose, as if to remind Nathaniel he was still holding the beak shut. Nathaniel released it in a somewhat unsure manner. "It could give them the wrong idea, if we did so. Our methods might come into question. There is no such thing as a good half breed; they're just remarkable liars, given their blood. If we treated them as we do human soldiers, how would any know our intent? No. Those who truly seek to rid themselves of tainted blood might be considered, but I certainly shan't mourn the passing of some half dragon."

The snow drake on his lap chirped, and he smirked faintly. "Or snow drake."

The soft rumble that came from Gustav had originally been mistaken for a cat. Nathaniel rose an eyebrow, somewhat confused. Then when he placed his hand over his stomach and spoke, Nathaniel managed to gain some insight. Putting on a pleasant smile, he nodded. "Alright. Is there something you want in particular? The potatoes aren't bad, though the meat could be better."

Nathaniel resisted the urge to sigh contentedly. Despite the form, despite the serious discussion... it was good to have Gustav back. Someone he could trust with his life, and who could expect the same in return. Sure this new form bothered him, but as soon as they had it cured he'd be happy to embrace the other once more. So far the taint didn't seem to have affected his rationality either, and that too was a good sign. Nathaniel was still going to act fast to deal with the form though, just to be safe.

Which brought to mind another thought. How best to deal with the Anika situation. They were bound to encounter one another sooner or later, and he thought that if it was by fate it just might prove problematic. So, with a soft sigh, he leaned forward. "Skertin, there's something I should tell you about. Something that arose in your absence. Of course, you're going to have to promise me not to make a spectacle about it, or cause any problems..."

Nathaniel waited for the other's confirmation, silent for moments if need be. Then he continued. "There is a woman with the ability to see into the future. I want her for my army. However, she's.... well, she isn't quite willing to kill. Yet. So I and Tithdaeron -- another ally of mine, strong, robust. This woman and I, Anika is her name... we're somewhat... involved. She can be ruled by her heart and that is where her weakness lies, and it has afforded me a great ability, one that aids tremendously. She believes that I love her,"

He reached across the table, grasping Skertin's chin at first roughly, then slowly it loosened to a gentle hold. Carefully he ran his thumb over the smooth, soft flesh. It wasn't what he remembered. Locking eyes with the other, he continued, "It isn't true, my little Lieutenant. But I need her to think it so. If you meet her, you shan't discourage her nor play lover," Once more his grip grew strong, rough, his eyes going just as hard. "Am I understood?"

Nathaniel may have loved his Skertin Gustav, but a good refresher of who was boss never hurt.

Jakabok bothered her. It reminded her of a puppy, an ugly one who could probably tear out her throat. an attention grubbing pair of leather boots none the less. True, it was foolish to be jealous of a creature like that, but come on! That's no fair, Nathaniel probably only had it for a couple weeks and that thing is treating his lap like a VIP zone. She'd show him otherwise later, even if it involved throttling him.

"I see...I wouldn't have tears for the useless, but those who die believing in our cause and achieve some sort of heroics were the ones I'd like recognized as having overcome the taint of their muddled blood to help humanity."

They were more or less on the same page, just different parts of said page. It was true she was a die-hard Nationalist, and her primary educator and Nathaniel saw to it to influence it with a strong sense of racism against the inhumans who "despoiled his proud nation from what it could be." Granted, this view caused friction early on, especially when there were a few unscrupulous moment of executing citizens she thought were quite loyal and useful to the future Empire. Nathaniel however, was quite persuasive.

"Anything cooked!" was the immediate response. Her eyes had taken on a slightly different sheen of hunger, her mouth unconsciously hanging open in the promise of heated sustenance. Living a couple weeks off of rock-hard bread and salted pork had been a bit more than miserable. especially since taverns charged for food and the City Watch yelled at you for starting campfires in houses. She left it up to Nathaniel to acquire this food, not quite certain how things worked in this establishment.

She was already looking around for silverware of some fashion, as if the food was here. She might have stuck a fork into Jakabok and try some Drake, but something seemed a little unwise about that decision. The subtle shifting of shadows and her attention shifted back to her right where Nathaniel had moved in closer to speak. His demand for a promise was a little unsettling, the last time that'd happen had been when Nathaniel had convinced her to let him pursue some reckless plan, that ultimately got him arrested and her in this situation. Whatever it was, it wasn't good.

She took a deep breath, reclined against the chair, settling in the folds of her large coat. Her hands formed a steeple, almost a mockery of a prayer. There was a slight pause as she closed her eyes, focused herself and suppressed the feelings she was picking up on, a mixture of worry and irritation. Clearing her mental slate, as best as she could with hunger gnawing on her stomach, she looked back at Nathaniel in a serene state.

"Of course Captain, I will not dishonor you."

There was a silent dread building up inside her as he explained about this Anika and Tithdaeron. She was half-expecting, half-denying the situation as she imagined it when Nathaniel confirmed it.she bristled up at the word involved. Her whole figure went stiff-like in the chair, causing her to hunch slightly forward in the chair as her knuckles went a ghostly white from the increased pressure applied b her figners against themselves.

Why?

There was a swift motion, and before she knew it he was clutching her face slightly. It felt nice, a reminder of old days gone by. While it wouldn't be the same as it was before, perhaps this twisted flesh made things more...natural? As his grip loosened, she could feel his hot breath just caressing her face and her eyes locked with his. How she ached for his embrace. such a silly and undeserving desire, but she wanted it. Wanted to slit Anika's throat to have him all to herself. that was not what the Captain wanted, so that was not what the he would receive.

"Yes Captain, orders received and confirmed, but...what does that make us then?"

The basic meaning of that question was what to behave like around Anika, but she was also asking about earlier. Would she jsut be liquidated and written off as another statistic at the close of the war? She didn't want to be, but would rather know her fate was already sealed and that it was best to make herself useful in this life if not the next.

Nathaniel smiled. That charming, perfect smile the revealed teeth of a strong heritage and lack of poor foods. It was a smile that said a thousand things at once. As a comfort, as a warning, as an implication. He leaned in close to Skertin, as if to steal another breathless kiss, but paused at the last moment. Instead, he carefully slipped what strands of hair may have fallen loose behind her ears, tracing her jawline lightly. It was not the masculine one he wanted.

"I think you know, my little Lieutenant, just what precisely you and I are." Nathaniel slid his larger hands onto hers, clasping them close. It was an implication, a promise. Of all the stars above and world below. Many summers had brought the same promise, and he had tried to accomplish it as best a mortal man may. Usually, he failed to hear the other complain. Then again, these times were different. Certainly such treatment could not be taken in public.

So, slowly, and with great regret, he slowly leaned back and away from Skertin, letting her hands slide from his. Nathaniel's hands, ever desperate for the warmth, took to stroking the wing of still-grumbling Jakabok. A frown settled on his lips, eyes still on his former comrade. "But we can't. Not while you are like that... You understand, of course? And as for Anika..." He paused, genuinely considering it. The girl was more or less innocent; killing her would serve no purpose except to slice his own thighs. "Perhaps... we might claim, you are my sister's daughter? Amelia's child?" Nathaniel had no such sister, but that wasnt what was important here.

"Let me fetch you some food, yes? I'll return shortly." Nathaniel set Jakabk onto the chair, who deftly used his large feet and tails to clamber to the top of the chair. Nathaniel looked to the drake, then to Skertin. Giving a nod that might have been to anyone or thing, he turned and strode over to the counter. The bar here was not unlike a pub, and leaving an order with the bar tender meant he'd grab whatever waitress he saw. With the right amount of money. It took little convincing once he'd opened his pouch, the Inn Keeper accepting it and promising to get the waitress to drop something off that was warm and decent.

In the mean time, Jakabok sat upon his perch and glared at Gustav. Small tendrils of wispy frost drifted from his feet, the breath of cold air not unlike a hundred escaping souls. As it traveled down the chair it hardened though, and slowly the wood was taking on ice. The farthest areas were starting to tint a blue colour, promising a similar reaction. Yet the snow drake remained fixed on the friend of his master, occasionally clicking his beak at her or blinking his golden eyes. Method 569 had just been reached, and he hoped to breach into the four digit mark before the night was over. Apparently the sentiments between the two were the same.

Returning, Nathaniel pulled the chair out and then sat down, letting Jakabok step off the chair and onto his shoulder. The chair gave a groan, the wood expanding as it warmed once more. The busy atmosphere, coupled with open flames everywhere, made short work of the ice and frost. If it was currently having an effect on the human holding the beast, he made no signs of it. Instead he smiled at Gustav. "A waitress should fetch you something when its cooked. It takes a while, but... it ensures it's fresh, yes?"

Shifting, he leaned over the table somewhat, intrigue entering his eyes. Once again he felt a boyish charm come over him, the results of a childhood friend appearing. "So, Gustav. Surely you must have an interesting tale than wandering about? What have you been doing, hm?" He smirked faintly. "Besides acquiring an atrocious fashion sense, of course." Jakabok's eyes closed, the animal apparently tuning the pair out now that it couldn't actively glare and sneer. Internally, it was still devising methods. Nasty little beast, it truly was. No wonder Nathaniel loved the thing.