55th of Frost, 120
"I can't," spoke the realized rathor with a shake of his head. "Ever since th' ceremony, I just..." He trailed off in thought, then shook his head. "Well, yew kno'," he offered a gesture of his claws to the pale Sil'norai, who watched him with curiosity while he explained his plight. In response, she tilted her head, relaying confusion. Evidently, she didn't know. "Well, I 'ad t' drink they'a blood, an'... Well, I can't get the taste off m' tongue. All I smell is 'at copper-y warmth when I'm wiv 'em," he continued more in-depth, "I just dunno 'ow much longa' I can stop m'self..."
"So you'd rather just leave? Right here and now?" Despite the softness of her tone, Arkash felt a distinct harshness in her words. It wasn't the sort of aggressive scolding she'd have given him before his transformation into her botchling, but he could tell she was disappointed.
Hesitantly, he nodded.
"No," the cardinal replied flatly. "You need to learn to control yourself, Arkash. Indulgence will be the death of you." She was right, but it still frustrated him to no end when people didn't do as he said. At his silence, she tilted her head. "Unless there's some other reason that you wish to return to Lorien for?"
Arkash was quiet for a spell, reflecting on the decisions he'd come to in the days prior. "There is," he answered cautiously, "but I dun't want yew gettin' th' wrong idea," he continued.
"Elaborate," the Cardinal commanded. Arkash sighed exasperatedly, only to earn a quirk of her brow.
"I wanna buy m' way into th' Savant caste," he explained with a bow of his head.
Fayeth immediately smiled with a furrow of her brow and leaned back a little as his words hit. "...You're serious?" She asked as if to test him, then began to laugh. A little at first, then a lot. She wiped tears from her eyes as she uncontrollably shook at the weight of her laugh.
"Stop laughin', Fay," He spoke with a flat brow, clearly unamused.
"I can't....!" She returned and held her stomach with one hand while the other wiped tears from her eyes. "That's up there with the most ridiculous things I've heard this year. And trust me, it's been a long year." Her laughing slowed, and she breathed to compose herself. "Arkash... You're wanted dead in half of Lorien," she reminded. "You're the figurehead of the revolution that saw Catherine Florent killed. Your face is all over Breven and Nivenhain alike; She was a Ravenlow."
"One of," he answered sternly, and at once began to change. His neoalt blood boiled as he underwent the transformation to his humanoid form, and his clothes loosened in parts. Fayeth reeled a little at the sight of his bones shifting beneath his skin, but didn't otherwise react until the transformation was complete. "No one's seen this faece befaw," he spoke with a flex of his human fingers, then lowered his furred coif to brush his dark hair from his tan complexion.
"...You know, I forgot you could do that once you got your ceremony," the cardinal cleared her throat, then squinted as she looked over his features, then crawled a little closer to poke and prod at his skin, testing to see if it was real or not. "....How does it feel?"
A simple bat of his hand pushed her hands off his face and he curled his nose in irritation. "Well that's just annoyin'," he answered. "And I fucking haet it, I'm not even gonna lie. My tongue's huge, my teeth's all stubby, m'nose is always fuckin' clogged and these ears are just..." he reached up to cup the sides of his head and squeezed gently. "...So fuckin' sensitive, y'know?" There were some things he appreciated, but all he had was complaints. "I haet sweatin', I miss m' tail, I haet slippin' on everythin' 'cuz o' m' lack o' claws. I haet havin' fur on m' chest 'n' legs, and don't even get me started on m' innards becoming outards."
Fayeth held up a hand to stop there. It was plenty obvious he could complain all day about his transformation, and she didn't want to know all the details. "Okay. First of all, never mention the latter again. Second, don't call your body-hair fur, and third; I think you just need to get used to it. You know, most living things on Atharen have to deal with all those problems and they still make it big and live decent lives." With that, she nodded and continued with her interrogation. "Question is, why do you want to become a savant?"
Arkash nodded at her advice, then breathed out with a sigh. "I realized m' purpose," he explained. "Not many rath do, not even when they's old and deathly, but I've figured out wot mine is." Fayeth tilted her head and Arkash went on to elaborate before she could ask him to. "Bring true freedom to Lorien," he explained with a bow of his head. "Abolish the Celebrant 'n' Argent. Tear down th' castes, erase tyranny and oppression... best way to do that is from the inside."
Fayeth rose a brow, apparently suspicious. Arkash continued.
"Think about it; I could start a minin' business, branch off into creatin' hollows. I can worm m'way into the knight'ood, even into Celebrant status an' establish a base of powa' while doin' th' revolution in m' true form," he told. "Once I'm inside, an I see all th' inna'-workin's o' the knight'ood an' th' nobility, we'll be able t' destroy 'em wiv greata' ease; we'll know 'ey weak points," he paused then as Fayeth lifted a hand to cut him off.
"Is this an attempt to grab power, Arkash?" She asked with a turn of her hand. "Will you use the revolution to destroy your political rivals in some conquest for the position of Lorien's top dog?" She asked with a flex of her brow, oh-so direct.
Arkash paused at the suggestion, then scoffed. "Fayeth, no," he returned with an annoyed furrow to his brow. "I haet Lorien more than anyone; everythin' in me; every fiba' of my bein' wan's t' see th' houses collapse. If I could just kick over Ravenlow's castle and turn th' cities to rubble ova'night, I would. But Fayeth," he started and exhaled. "Shit's not 'at easy. We need a solid plan, a direction of attack. We can' just convince everyone to revolt against every liege of every house and put their lives on the line for oua' cause."
The dranoch rose her brow at that, then leaned back to sit while she thought. Arkash watched as she did, and furrowed his brow to focus on her. "You understand how dangerous such a move would be, don't you? If you're discovered, you'll certainly be killed."
Arkash shook his head. "The Argent'll teach me t' fight; I'll work hard like I always 'ave," he explained. "If I'm discova'd, I'll escape. And, we've always got the revolution, too."
With that, Fayeth shook her head. "Alright..." She conceded. "We'll talk with Asmodei about it more when we get home, and I definitely need to think about it. For now, why don't you go ahead and say your farewells to the Boydds? We'll leave tonight."
Arkash sighed; the Silnorai was awfully closed-minded, even at the best of times. Convincing her to do something outside of her ideals was near-enough impossible. A shake of his head relayed his frustration. What was more? She expected him to return to the kinship despite his concerns. "Fine," he accepted, then pushed to his feet before he began to transform back into his scalie self.
The natural warmth that his humanoid form had was certainly helpful; it allowed him to stay out in the cold almost indefinitely, but it also meant that the stink of human sweat would follow him everywhere. Sure enough, the smell would be almost unnoticeable to humans, but among his kind, especially himself, it was almost unbearable.
Once the transformation was complete, he loosed a deep sigh and shook his head as he turned to proceed to the village. "We can't destroy a system of oppression on ideals alone, Fay," he called back to remind her of how foolish she sounded.
"Maybe not," she returned. "But without our standards, what are we?" Arkash paused to look back at her, misty yellow eyes trained on her expression as she too rose to her feet. "...We're just criminals, Arkash. If we act without morals and without values, we're no better than the leaders of this world, who lie, cheat, and backstab to achieve power."
Arkash thought for a moment, then shook his head as he turned his back on her and lifted his coif to cover his head. Such notions, to him, felt childish. They weren't grounded in reality, just fantasy. To make it anywhere in the world, up or down, one had to be prepared to sell their soul. Fortunately for Arkash, he believed he'd lost his long before they started the revolution. He had nothing to lose.
