The Reckless and the Wild

but  ,  no  ,  it  can  never  be  a  hunger  so  simple  .  the  general  seems  to  suddenly  be  capable  of  voicing  its  own  thoughts  ,  or  precisely  what  the  scientist  yearned  to  hear   (   and  still  does  ,  though  it  has  found  itself  more  content  the  more  it  is  left  to  it’s  picking  and  cutting   :   untouched  .   )   it’s  as  if  it’s  tongue  were  his  .  it  hurts  ,  in  a  tight  ,  clenching  type  of  way  ,  to  hear  all  that  has  transpired  across  the  trine  voiced  so  clearly  by  another  ,  but  the  vindication  also  promised  like  cold  poultice  on  weeping  burn  .  scientist’s  mind  briefly  flits  to  the  matter  of  if  his  goals  turn  rotten  ,  but  it’s  not  so  blind  as  to  not  see  how  lack  of  exposure  to  thra’s  broken  heart  has  allowed  waters  of  time  to  pass  by  with  much  less  weathering  than  within  castle  walls  .  skekSo  is  dying  .  skekTek  can’t  say  it  ,  for  fear  of  being  lashed  or  brutally  humiliated  is  too  strong  ,  but  anyone  could  know  that  .  surely  skekUng  must  see  .  it  wants  to  think  he  does  .

there  is  a  reason  ,  one  never  outwardly  spoken  ,  why  the  chamberlain  had  garnered  it’s  allyship  oh  so  easily  .

sheepishly  ,  the  scientist  lifts  it’s  head  ,  presses  one  of  those  fidgeting  hands  palm   -   flat  against  desk  as  to  take  another  ,  shaky  step  forward  this  time  ,  scrutinizing  in  the  way  it’s  eye  narrowed  .  but  a  sudden  SMALL  BURST  OF  NERVES  turn  it’s  gaze  to  the  contained  animals  the  general  had  been  observing  ,  confused  by  the  sudden  appearance  of  a  skeksis  not  often  seen  in  the  central  chamber  .   ❝   saw  your  chance  and  took  it  ,  did  you  ?   ❞

        so, he’s caught with proverbially red hands. such does not perturb him. a smirk merely emerges at the nosharikh’s astute observation. loyalty is a virtue, but so too is intelligence; one needs both in order to survive within the court’s high ranks. although exiled for hundreds of trine, skekUng saw that same old kill-or-be-killed cycle of viciousness the moment he walked into the throne room-- vultures don’t lose their nature once they’ve aged. 

“i’m not that patient,” he responds wryly. “you’re alone, and the illness is worsening. why not now?” 

but although he is baying for their khrokon’s death, can almost feel the weight of the scepter in his hand, he is not so foolish as to rush things. he knows that skekSil will want to gain power, claiming that he has the true claim as skekSo’s right hand. the ritual-master, too, might want to throw in his lot-- the sadomasochistic archimandrite. no, skekUng knows that he will have to be cunning, and a part of that meant not re-opening too many wounds or illuminating too many darkened corners. skekTek has good reason to distrust authority, and his new title of garthim-kherron has not endeared him to it. time and finesse is required. 

he is willing to wait. 

skekUng straightens. “well, i’ll not steal you away from your work for much longer. we can discuss garthim modifications later, as well as my offer.” he briefly inclines his proud head, a surprising gesture of respect from one whose pulse races and fangs clench every time he must kowtow to the ailing khrokon for a report. but skekTek is a potential ally. 

and he yet remembers the sound of laughter, of respect and admiration, of resting against another’s shoulder as she ranted about phonology or something else he couldn’t fathom. there are yet people that can be trusted 

for this, at least. 

“kalinikhta, skekTek.” 

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--

for skekUng

“Haakskeekah.”

(A chatter bubbles up, can the newcomer, or arguably, the outcast, even demand such a thing? skekHdax is still three-quarters his size, but already strong. Nearby, skekSept in his raggedy clothes in wincing.)

        the hallowed ekhen-hash erupts in sundry gasps, exclamations, and murmured wonderings, until the skeksis khrokon snarls and leaps up from his throne. lips peel back to reveal yellowed fangs, and red eyes flash with indignation at this exile’s bold claim. a haakskeekah? from a remnant of beings that should never have come there? oh, don’t make him laugh. 

“ishkhriosh me,” he growls, punctuating his words by slamming his sceptre down onto the stone floor. “you would dare challenge me? you are not a part of this court. you have no title. you have no right.” 

while  the  garthim   -   kherron  may  have  a  distaste  for  the  slick  and  warm  gore,  skekTek  clearly  does  not   ;   arms  fold  neatly  over  one  another  ,  propping  it’s  weight  and  offering  the  straining  leg  replacement  a  reprieve  as  emaciated  form  craned  across  the  desk  .  his  title  of  metallurgist  is  certainly  one  well  earned  ,  it  can  give  the  lout  that  ,  but  suspicion  lashes  against  the  skeksis’  moldering  gut  and  sends  heat  down  it’s  spine  .    ❝   are  we  helping  each  other  ,  or  am  i  helping  you  ?  do  you  not  hold  credit  for  the  beasts  ,  are  these  not  your  materials  ?   ❞   it’s  a  brilliant  idea  ,  truthfully  ,  and  the  scientist  feels  a  touch  giddy  at  the  prospect  ,  but  narrowed  eye  and  the  slight  uptick  in  the  rushing  of  discolored  blood   (   seen  through  chrome  tubes   )   says  it  all  .  the  image  is  clear  and  visceral  ,  more  sweat  and  precious  time  will  be  poured  into  the  cobbled   -   together  soldiers  under  the  guise  of  collaboration  ,  and  it  will  ultimately  have  the  proverbial  carpet  ripped  from  ‘neath  it’s  feet  and  it’s  much  less  proverbial  work  put  entirely  to  skekUng’s  name  .  IT  PAINS  THEM  ,  IT  ISN’T  FAIR  .

❝  what  would  i  reap  from  any  fraternization  with  you  ?    ❞   his  amusement  isn’t  lost  on  them  ,  in  fact  ,  it  needles   ───   nigh  taunts  .

        keen eyes, ones that hold far more intelligence than the others would ever give them credit for, study the nosharikh’s budding excitement at the prospect of a new project, only for it to wilt and sour into something that he knows all too well. suspicion, particularly over one’s motives. there is a reason he has remained outside of the castle’s clutches, aside from the obvious exile. most of the court members are over-indulgent, saccharine liars who would sooner stab him in the back that be reasoned with. skekTek, however, seems different. for one, they both have a common object of loathing. and two, both of them wish to be known. he might have his eyes firmly set on skekSo’s royal chair, but as for the scientist-- 

his head tilts upward appraisingly. “you’re not a fool, skekTek, and neither am I. we’d be helping each other. better designed garthim means more vliya. more vliya means a placated, if still sickly, khrokon. that means a continued quiet before a coming storm.” 

not wishing to remain by such wanton gore, and truthfully a bit unnerved by what he can see of the tubing in skekTek’s neck, he circles the table, fixing his gaze on the stone floor beneath him, but sensitive wings still test the air in case a sneak attack should come. call it a force of habit. 

but  ,  it's  far  less  costly  to  roll  one's  eye  and  work  their  jaw  than  voice  any  doubt  .  the  emperor  commanded  ,  and  i  obeyed  ───  a  sick  sentiment  ,  but  one  that  can  be  understood  meticulously  within  rakhash's  walls  .

❝   the  garthim  ?   ❞   is  what's  inquired  instead  ,  accompanied  by  an  amused  snort  of  it's  own  as  mismatched  gaze  flits  back  to  the  squalling  mammal  strapped  atop  the  work  desk  .  the  very  concept  of  skekUng  valuing  the  toil  of  the  laboratory  is  not  easy  to  swallow  ,  too  bitter   -   tasting  .  is  the  scientist  truly  supposed  to  believe  that  ?  it  wants  to  ,  of  course  ,  but  that  does  not  mean  the  elixirist  can  ,  nor  that  it  should   /   to  let  your  iron   -   clad  guard  rest  for  even  a  moment  is  to  once  again  welcome  the  brunt  of  the  imperial  scepter  .   ❝   the  garthim  are  amalgamations  ,  that  i  am  confident  you  know  of  .  to  ameliorate  the  carapace  would  require  grafting  your  metals  to  the  organic  structure  and  accommodating  to  the  ligaments  i  have  had  to  rebuild  .  you  can  not  put  too  much  weight  on  them  .   ❞ 

the  arathim  legs  took  up  the  majority  of  the  project  ,  particularly  the  process  of  dismantling  the  segments  and  creating  new  limbs  entirely  .  the  brutes  are  sturdy  ,  but  without  what  is  needed  to  right  themselves  if  they  were  to  fall  .  connective  tissue  ,  once  harvested  from  gruenaks  now  synthesized  ,  requires  aid  from  machinery  .  it  is  growing  flimsier  the  farther  skekTek  stretches  the  genetic  material  .  they  will  need  a  replacement  soon  .   ❝   also  ,  if  you  were  to  fix  your  eyes  to  my  station  ,  you  will  see  that  i  am  exceptionally  busy  !   ❞

oh  ───  but  not  for  long  .  blood  is  pooling  ,  the  scientist's  attention  drifted  here  and  there  .  the  gored  little  thing  won't  last  much  longer  .  WHAT  A  WASTE  .

        another snort escapes the garthim-kherron as he eyes the butchery on the laboratory slab. busy indeed. it looks more like a venting of frustrations or worse, a detached, sadistic curiosity of how far it can push the thing, than any true research. skekUng idly wonders what their khrokon will think if he reports that the nosharikh is wielding it’s knowledge in all the wrong areas, but ah, such is only an idle thought. he knows that threats won’t work on it. it’s already received such from skekSo, in abundance. he needs a different tactic entirely. 

perhaps, showing an interest despite his overall ignorance will be beneficial. 

“you could try augmenting them with machinery, like your arm or leg. and i know of metals that will be light yet sturdy. a magnesium and chromium alloy. my under-armor is made of such-- so were the sidkhta shayfa.” 

skekUng’s thoughts wander, and he very nearly rests a hand against the gore-covered table, before catching himself and crossing his arms, claws content to tap against a forearm. 

“i’m no scientist. i don’t have the time nor the patience for this work, but there’s no reason we can’t help each other, especially if it means succeeding in both our arenas.” something akin to amusement glimmers in his red eyes. “it’ll get skekSo off of our backs, at any rate.” 

3. Who is your favourite Skeksis?

Oh, come on. That is so hard to pick! But if I had to choose, I’d have to say skekSa. She’s a lesbian pirate that openly defied the Emperor, had the respect of an entire gelfling clan behind her, and aged like fine wine. 

I don’t know about y’all, but skekSa can get it. 

12. Which Skeksis do you hate the most?

 to think that he would meet this particular skeksis. the other half of urLm, who he had been told was partially his biological parent. urSkeks did not seem to have parents, in the same way that skeksis did not. so he had no expectations for the other skeksis. 

  at the mention of the Scroll-keeper, skekLi’s gaze turned towards the older skeksis. his form trembled and his eyes started to water.  his bottom lip quivered and he sank down to the ground. 

  “ Y-yes… I kn-know… “ he stammered between sobs. this was shameful. he should not cry in front of a higher-ranked skeksis like this. “ He let the Ritual ma-” his broke down into sobs and incoherent noises. the memories of what happened while the Scroll-keeper just stood there and watched would surely haunt him forever. 

 after a while he spoke again, peeking up at the other between his arms.  fear twinkled in his watery eyes.  “…A-Are you going…t-to bring me back? “ 

        at the very mention of skekZok’s title, the metallurgist bristled, beetle-like wings subconsciously flaring. a growl welled in his throat. yes, he had figured as much. a creature as obnoxious as the satirist surely couldn’t have escaped the chance to receive a punishment from the ritual-master. from what he recalled of skekSo the last time he visited the castle, when he presented his swords for the trial-stone, the emperor was haughty and quick to dispose of anything he viewed as a pest. 

including skekUng, for all intents and purposes. 

he masked the twinges of sympathy in his chest with more brusque words. “and why the fuck would i do that? skekSo can choke on his wine for all i care. now stop that! i hate your whimpering.” 

        “do you honestly think that ‘Mama’ loves you? the scroll-keeper doesn’t give a shit. he let the emperor banish you for being an inconvenience. you think he’d really give up his precious position for you?” 

skekUng roughly sighed through his nose. were his words truthful? but of course. the metallurgist-- for he refused to recognize skekSo’s meaningless promotion of spy-master-- was not like the members of the inner court. he craved power, but he was not about to snivel and whine and lie like skekSil to get it. his manner was coarse, his speech blunt, but there was perhaps a tinge of regret when he saw the other skeksis’ features crumble. 

by thra, they’d put the boy through the ringer. when they crossed each other by chance near the mountains, he was fidgety, reeking of fear, with bones that nearly jutted through his skin. so much for skekOk ‘shielding’ him from the horrors of the world. oh no, skekUng suspected he’d experienced more horrors in the castle than he himself could have borne. 

the satirist, unfortunately, didn’t seem to inherit his defiance or courage.