Chapter Thirteen

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Small pebbles of stone hung precariously from the lip of his death state hole, deep respiration focused upon the stones. Adjusting slightly letting out a deep exhalation, free from their confinement, the pebbles cascaded down onto the lids which protected his onyx orbs.

Waking abruptly, Pligal shook his head allowing the pebbles to relinquish their grasp upon the deep grooves near his orbs. Feeling heavy, his throat still thick with the deathstate's remnants caked upon each other, altering his respiration. Clearing his throat, Pligal blinked to observe his surroundings. As the putrid fog dissipated, confusion swelled within him as he allowed his orbs to refocus upon the well-lit area he sat. The odoriferous stench which penetrated his breath holes previously inundating the patcher's den now replaced by earthy scents. The life fluid permeating his hole as well as the liberal cloth covering his progenitor organ vanished.

His bindings no longer carried the stains of injured legionnaires who may or may not have vanquished their injuries. A new hide, dark green in color, encased him. Confused, he listened for the cacophony of groans and curses that never came. Lifting his head, he peered around with clear orbs.

Astonished, he observed his surroundings carefully. Stone over stone encased them. Similar to the Seeress' domicile, fashioned to be permanent, Pligal's mouth gaped as he turned to absorb every nuance of his new location.

Carefully, he moved to sit up. Expecting excruciating pain to greet him, he witnessed minor annoyance. The annoyance of scales inflamed from a hard cycle's training. Gingerly, Pligal touched his thorax. Again, nothing met his caress. Leaning to the side, he tested his mobility further, a piercing pain caused him to wince slightly as he let in a sharp inhalation of air.

"Ah, there you are an old companion." Pligal thought to his pain.

"Be mindful young brute!" A high voice admonished.

Quickly, he turned his gaze toward the new sound. His old companion, once again, greeted him as pain flooded his neck and shoulders.

"Ugh, again he does it!" The Eron said to itself. Its voice contained an air of amusement at the spectacle in front of them played itself out.

After Pligal softened his jaw consciously in response to the throngs of pain emanating through him. Opening his orbs, once more, he saw the figure of a slim eron before him. Its scales dark, yet brilliantly outlined, each swarthy scale highlighted with golden streams of color contained a low frequency of beaming bioluminescence. The unmistakable patterns of a female eron. Vastly distinct in pattern and color from the males, their light stayed focused upon their whole being. Not the tumultuous flickering the males radiated. With elegance, regality, and great control of their bodies, these female characteristics embodied the stark contrast of female and the more feral male erons.

Understanding a female stood in his presence, Pligal quickly covered the hide which surrounded his member. Training by other males caused him to forget the modesty, which the rest of his kin, fortunate enough to not be selected for the legion, held true. Each Eron mandated from on high to cover most of their scales at all times in the presence of a female. Only those who contained the ability to contain the eggs of their kind were permitted to dress with a moderate amount of scales visible. In order to gain power over the brutish males who sought to build upon their legacy.

However, the female erons contained full control over their kith and kin as well as the clans. Only the seywaw, the females, held head eron status of each clan. Electing a zes, the male eron, who would be the Baron for their own sect. Thus, their power instilled control over the zes who sought to dominate their fairer seywaw. With this power, the seywaw became the seekers of fertility, only choosing the zes who held great potential for birthing more seywaw.

Unnerved this seywaw eron stood in close proximity, his conditioning to be modest alerted him of danger. His bioluminescence flickered violently, shooting around wildly, his orbs sought the comfort of another zes who could distract the anxiety of his current predicament.

Discovering Dorn nearby, on his side, he saw his thorax expand and contract. Soothing death state noises emanated from him. His panic subsided as he realized he was not alone with this seywaw. Normalizing his breath, he saw two more seywaw tending to others, who originated from the patcher's tent, nearby.

"Ah, so this is where we were brought."

Pligal grinned slightly as he ruminated of Queyan. The old zes who did not betray his oath. Again, he adjusted as a small pebble, sized of one of his talons, struck him in his head. A sharp pain soon followed as the high voice sharpened, more venomously.

"Move again and I'll find a larger boulder to strike you!" The seywaw ordered him.

Her voice demanding respect, Pligal carefully glanced in her direction as a hatchling would gaze at his matriarch. Moving closer to him, now fully illuminated by the plasma beams surrounding his carefully dug hole, he watched her menacing posture beckon him to surrender. His orbs widened as he gazed upon her. Although appearing she as if she would pummel him, at any moment, Pligal could not ignore her beauty.

Marveling as his orbs moved around the hide containing her body, holding her slim abdomen and hugged her thorax. His pain subsided as he was caught examining this gorgeous creature before him. His light synced to his heart, throbbing, pulsing after every beat.

Easing her features, she cautiously watched him. His reticence vanished as it was replaced with adoration. The talons that formerly covered his member, now clung tightly to the edge of the hole, tensely piercing the tangerine soil as his light beamed.

Knowingly, she inquired, "Why do you gaze upon me in that manner legionnaire?"

Her light began to fade slightly as it flushed her face scales. Pligal, blinked relinquishing his hold upon the pit. Ashamed, he looked away.

"Calm yourself." He discussed to himself. "You know what being a legionnaire means." Sadness wreathed his thoughts as his orbs, dropped toward the tangerine soil. "Loneliness." He whispered aloud full of sorrow.

Her orbs became slits as she gazed upon the altered visage of this creature before her. "What was that?" She asked curiously. Her voice now quiet, soothing.

The pain returned to him as he ruminated upon his thoughts. Legionnaires became Legionnaires through bondage. The misfortune of being born the seventh zes of the family. As the family lost them, the legionnaire also lost their future. Forever, under the service of the Baron, forever, pawns to his whim. Never would they create their own brood. Never could they experience their pleasure of watching their youth emerge from their shells.

"Nothing," Pligal said heavily.

His words pulsed through his breath. The onyx orbs relishing the image of this seywaw before him, now held tightly shut as the pain flooded his body. Intertwining with his battered body, the agony of his torment rose, anew.

Quickly, the seywaw grabbed a flagon from a nearby pedestal. Rushing to his side, she cupped the back of his head gently as she pressed the lip of the bottle to his mouth. Turning his mouth to avoid the drink before gazing upon her once more. So close to him, he marveled at the intricacies of her ebony scales.

Shaking away his feelings, he said, "What are you doing?"

Annoyed, she commanded, "Drink", as she firmly pressed the flagon again to his mouth.

Glancing at her sternness, Pligal acquiesced to her touch. Filling his mouth, he tasted pure crimson. The bitter taste filling the used sangre he grew accustomed to was no more, in its place, the soothing sweet flavor shocked his tongue. Drinking deeply, emitting an involuntary moan as the powerful fluid filled him, he tightened his orbs to deeply live in the moment of ingesting the crimson. His tongue moved over his sharp teeth as they lapped up the remnants the delicious fluid.

For many moments, he sat in the hole breathing deeply to the warmness in his abdomen. The fire igniting within him. Stitching flame mingled with his bioessence as the fluid worked to undo the damage of his body. Here, he witnessed the creature of his death state.

Carefully, they observed one another from a distance. Her soft hide wreathed around her. With no scales present, Pligal stood perplexed at her visage. A pink membrane encasing her with small mounds etched to her thorax, in the center, darker pink circles. A tuff of fibers formed between her legs as the same color fibers fell from her crown, a confusing creature, indeed. Carefully, she marveled at his body as well. Pligal moved to speak, but only pictures above his presented themselves. The pressure of his air to form syllables did not greet him.

Carefully, he watched as his thoughts etched above his head. The being before him squinted her orbs. Creases formed around her visage. Pictures formed above her. Not script, but images of her with her appendages making an unknown gesture.

Suddenly, Pligal understood. This being knew how to communicate to him. However, she remained confused at the foreign script above him. He formed an image of his landscape, the brilliant soil flickering as the Terra God crested to lord over the landscape.

The being's mouth gaped as she witnessed the images this being displayed. As soon as it was over, she closed her eyes to display what she knew of her world. First, she displayed the globe spinning on its axis, marvelous blue and green. She moved to display what she saw in the media. The rolling hills of her land, the small mountains to her west and the much larger one's further west. Pligal absorbed everything as he watched each image flicker above her head.

Roughly, amidst gazing upon these images, he felt pulled backward. Violently, his head crashed against the stone encasing the room. Wincing as he placed a talon on the spot, no pain followed. His breathing quickened, deep exhalations followed by shallow inhalations.

"It'll pass", a dry voice creaked.

Pligal opened his orbs seeing he remained in the same room from earlier. Two more seywaw stood near his pit. Again, he covered himself for modesty. Looks of confusion dawned their scales. Glancing at one another, they passed quizzical glances.

"Do you know what happened?" The dry voice sounded again, belonging to an elderly seywaw. Regally, she stood with her talons clasped before her.

Pligal's head rung from the impact. With his orbs swimming, he responded through gritted teeth.

"No, please tell me."

The seywaw who tended to him started, "You froze after a long moan. You didn't move for many moments. I attempted to rouse you, but to no avail." She said gesturing towards the other seywaw, "That's when I asked them to come help. When you finally began to awake, you convulsed slightly, then hit your head there." She said pointing to the rock edifice. "How do you feel now?" She said full of concern.

"Like the Creator who pulled us from the acrid sea, I feel detached. Foreign." Pligal said musingly.

The seywaw glanced at each other sharing looks of concern.

"Do you feel any discomfort?" The younger seywaw stated.

His previous need to cover himself evaporated. Refocusing on his body, Pligal gingerly moved about. Testing his previous wound sites, he noticed strength replaced weakness. Healed and whole, once more, he adjusted himself in his pit to the cries of disdain among the seywaw. Ignoring their clamor, Pligal leaped out of his pit. Straddling it with his feet, he contorted his body to spring in between two of them. Once again standing on his lower talons, he scanned his body as nothing cried out. The seywaw scrambled to flee from Pligal's somersault. Their talons clacked upon the stone ground as they moved with determination.

"A-amazing!" Pligal stammered. "I feel even stronger than before."

Inspecting his scales carefully, he noticed his bioluminescence moved of its own accord. Weaving throughout his body, it worked to remake him. He stood in awe of this unfamiliar sight. His respiration increasing as he thought of his renewed possibilities.

"It'll pass, the raw sangre has that side effect." The dry-voiced seywaw stated.

"What other side effects does it have?" Pligal asked quietly ruminating upon his death state experience.

"I don't follow.", the younger seywaw said.

"Can people see things? Creatures not of this world?"

Their dark orbs shared silent messages, once more.

"Yes. It is true that images are seen. However, in all my cycles, I've never seen anyone stay in the trance state as long as you." The dry voice one came again.

"I need to see the Seeress," Pligal spoke to himself. "She could answer my questions." He thought.

"I'm Je." The dry-voiced seywaw stated. Pointing to the younger one who Pligal pined for and then another older seywaw, she said. "She is Sri and her name is Mec. We are your caregivers for the time being. Lord Queyan has mandated that you stay her until fully recuperated. At dark fall, he will return to see you. You have until then to visit the Seeress."

Astonished, Pligal stared at her. "H-how?"

"I'm many cycles old. Not dead to the nuances of speech." The old Je said in her dry voice.

Keeping his gaze upon her unblinkingly for many moments, his mouth gaped. Turning he attempted to find the exit to the building. Spotting the only hole in the structure, he sprinted passed the seywaw. Glancing briefly again at the beautiful Sri, the one who invigorated passion within him, Pligal returned to his purpose, finding the Seeress, discussing what plagued his visions.

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