{ ᴀ s ʜ ᴇ ɴ . }

                    r i s e                              from the                                         a s h e s .

█ ▌◤  They watched the Guardian closely through the scope of their wire rifle, following her every movement as she wandered around the skeletons of aircraft. Ixalaris was crouched comfortably out of sight atop a ridge, tucked beneath the low-hanging branches of an evergreen. A favorite sniping location for the Eliksni - though they were not on the hunt. Not this time. Instead, they merely observed. This Lightbearer appeared to be searching for something, and the thief wanted to know what it was. Anything the Guardians sought was something valuable, without a doubt. Thus, Ixalaris had decided they would have it instead. Curious that her bearing was so docile compared to others of her ilk... especially in these lands, with Eliksni constantly on patrol. Guardians had great fun hunting them - Ixalaris had watched on in disgust many times. But there was nothing they could do to stop the slaughter without revealing themself, and likely adding to the body count in the end. The few encounters they'd had with the Lightbearers was more than enough for one lifetime. However, fate had a funny way of twisting things. It was a faint rustling behind them that had Ixalaris sharply swing their rifle around. They almost wish they hadn't - dead centered in their scope was the hideous face of a Hive Knight. Swiftly lowering the rifle to get their limited eyesight focused on the immediate area, Ixalaris held back the hiss threatening to whisper from their lips. Any sound would give away their location. Little did they realize that it was already far too late. Dead things leapt upon them before they even had a chance to rest their hands on the hilts of their shock blades. A loud snarl tearing from their throat, Ixalaris struggled to pry a Thrall from their shoulder plate, but two more were clawing at their feet. If the Thrall’s aim was to get the thief to stagger backward and gracelessly tumble down the cliffside, they succeeded. Kneeling at the base of the small ridge, dust and dead leaves settled around Ixalaris as their eyes squinted shut, forcing the pain to dull itself. Loud, shuddering breaths passed through their mask, shock blades dug deep into the ground. Ash piles lay around them, last remnants of the Thrall, before drifting silently away on the icy Cosmodrome breeze. A variety of Eliksni curses quietly flowing from Ixalaris's mouth, the thief slowly rose to their feet and jerked their shock blades out of the ground. With a rough shake of their head and roll of their shoulders, Ixalaris's eyes cracked open -- Only to catch sight of the Guardian, and realize with no small amount of dread that she was an unacceptably short distance away.

█ ▌◤  Under normal circumstances, Ixalaris would have sneered at the mere notion of stepping aboard an unfamiliar Kell's Ketch, under the guise of a business proposition or not. It was good that Skolas was mindful enough to have a good number of Eliksni with stellar negotiating skills under his command, else the party that had managed to contact Ixalaris never would have gotten them to agree to this meeting. The thief supposed it wasn't all bad that an individual such as the one sitting before them had thought their skill valuable enough to personally request their audience. Unlike the vast number of mercenaries for hire that wandered the system, Ixalaris did not readily sell their services. It was upon learning the identity of their potential employer that had piqued the thief's interest. Surely the Kell of Kells had enough incentive to keep Ixalaris around for at least a short while. Pleasantries aside, Ixalaris felt their mouth curl into an amused smirk. “Flattery was the intention. I'm glad I succeeded. However, I'd wager the chances of any form of bow happening again are slim at best.” Frame relaxing a touch, the Eliksni casually took a few steps around the vast open space. The manner with which they were conducting themself was incredibly bold, but Ixalaris had little care or concern for standing on ceremony as of late - and Skolas seemed to realize this. Finding that they had drifted to the side of the room, Ixalaris leaned their back against the wall, secondaries crossing over their waist as a primary hand thoughtfully ran over their mask. Eyes had settled back on Skolas before they continued speaking. “Mm, 'honor' is relative,” was their simple response. Thievery may not have been considered a particularly respectable career path by the majority of the populace, but if serving oneself and their own best interests in the name of maintaining their freedom was considered dishonorable, so be it. “That aside, I suppose it's my turn to claim flattery. Evidently, my reputation has reached some lofty heights.” Chuckling quietly, a rough and guttural sound, Ixalaris fell silent as Skolas continued speaking. It was the explanation they'd been waiting for, why they had been summoned. Their eyes flicker slightly in the dim light of the room, and the silence begins to weigh heavy as Ixalaris considers. When they finally speak again, their head tilts slightly, a low grumbling beginning to bubble from their throat. “So, you would willingly have a thief stationed aboard your vessel? That's new.” A short pause, eyes narrowing slightly. “The 'expense' of others doesn't concern me - I have my own to worry about. However --” Ixalaris holds up a primary hand in the hopes of abating a hasty (and potentially acidic) response from Skolas before they continue. “Wasting your resources means less pay for me. With my location compromised, and your terms sounding fair, I will remain aboard your Ketch. For now, at least. Just a fair warning: if your crew continues to show any form of contempt toward me, there will be... complications.” It's not so much a threat as it is a promise. Ixalaris may have been branded deserter and thief, and grown quite comfortable with their new way of life - but the Wolves would do well to remember that 'Baron' came before that. Demeanor suddenly shifting into a far lighter one, Ixalaris kicked off from the wall and made their way back into the center of the space, secondary hands wringing in anticipation. The contract had been accepted. Let the games begin. “These 'plans' you intend to have me be a part of. If you would be so kind to share, I would like to know what you have in mind so far. I may be able to lend some strategic assistance, especially if it involves the employment of stealth tactics.”

█ ▌◤  How this one had managed to find them was beyond Ixalaris, but their capacity to display irritation and aggression in response to the situation had been rendered inept. Though wire rifle remained in hand, it was angled downward, and Ixalaris was staring intently at the individual standing before them. He was so utterly foreign that Ixalaris felt far more curiosity than wariness. A dangerous move, to lower caution like this... but whoever this was, he was clearly not human, nor Eliksni, nor anything Ixalaris had ever seen before. A low warning growl sounded from the back of their throat, followed by slight fidgeting. Did... did he even speak their language? “Hrm... you realize I was busy, right? Who are you?” A moment's pause, a series of low guttural noises. By the Old Spirits, if he understood human speech better than their native tongue, this would be a difficult conversation indeed. And not just because Ixalaris could hardly speak it... using human speech left a sour taste in their mouth. “...You talk Eliksni? Or this?”

"Heh. I never thought I would find myself bowing again. Though, you are far more deserving of it than the last Kell I lowered my head to."