Jul 16 00:36:40 105 PA

From Chronicles

The current game time is: Thu Jul 16 00:36:40 105 PA.

Desmond is settled at the base of one of the many trees that scatter the park, at the edge of an open space of grass. The sun is just starting to peek over the rim of the horizon, tossing soft light over everything. Dim to most, but Desmond's eyes cut through it easily. .Laid against his knee is his sketchpad, one hand steadying it while the other makes slow, careful sweeps over it with his pencil. Before him, perhaps a dozen meters away, a strange bird-like beast forages about the ground, blissfully ignoring the big male as he slowly attempts to render its likeness. His brow is furrowed deeply in focus, following the creature's movements between bouts of plying pencil to paper. The majority of his attention flitting between bird and drawing, though his ears remain perked for nearby sounds.

Some people cannot turn off their natural instinct to keep to the shadows, and their natural awareness of oppertune bits of cover. Even when they are on something so much as an exploratory stroll. The Assassian is on one of these strolls, learning the lay of the land as much as anything else. Perhaps he should be unarmored... but the mask of Rath'tklan for him is as comfortable as his own skin, and he is not breaking any laws. He moves along quietly, using the odd staff that he carries much like a walking stick -- until he catches sight of Desmond. Turning, he approaches the felid quite silently -- not that he is deliberatly attempting to sneak up on him; drawing up beside him and planting the base of the staff into the ground to lean on it. "Desmond." He emits. "Friend of Kesslan. Clanless. I am told that you would have been upset, had you not the chance to speak with me."

Desmond does not start at the sudden noise, but there is a tensing. The subtle taut snap of muscle that readies itself instinctually to be used when a moment of uncertainty rears. THe pencil stills in the same moment, but a breath after that reaction, the tone and content of the words he hears starts to filter in, even as his head turns. Seeing who has come, Desmond relaxes. Though his natural expression, that of a firm, stoic mask lingers in the immediate, his more expressive eyes betray a subtle tint of curiosity. He takes a deliberate moment to consider the words given and his possible response to them before speaking, his voice rolling forth as a deep, basso profundo with a slight roll to his 'r's. "Upset.. that my have been true, but I do not recall a precise upset that lingers still. Some concerns, but that is more a lack of knowledge than a true worry. Truth be told, I am eager to speak to you.. or your comrades or your elder." He shifts his posture, sitting a bit straighter, legs still crossed, the sketchpad casually flipped closed, concealing the slightly malformed sketch he'd been working on before. "Kesslan has spoken to you of me, I assume. What upsets has he spoken to you about?"

Relaxing somewhat, the armored one descends to a sitting position; folding his staff across his lap and peering out into the park itself. "Many challenges this world will offer. At first, I expected there would be no purpose for one without caste... but the more I open my eyes, the more I see that I will be all right." The mask is impassive, prohibiting one to see his face but there is a long pause and a few murmured words. "The Elder, and the other two have left already. I am to remain behind, for . . . reasons." There is the faintest bit of irritation audible in the assassin's voice and then silence. "I have not asked him details of you, in truth. Your companionship with him is not my business. I only know whom you are, and that myself and those with me were a curiosity to you. Your friend is much torn, much confused. Knows not where he belongs now, of this world or his kind's. Have to figure that out for himself, you or I cannot tell him where he belongs."

Desmond lets his eyes shift towards the staff casually, considering the alien device briefly as the other feline settles. So too does he listen intently to the words given to him. Examination of the staff left off for steady attention to the mask. Afterward, he speaks on one aspect at once, without much pause. "Kesslan is torn, yes. But I and she who I shall bond with soon offer to him some belonging. What we can, though I doubt it matches the belonging one would find amongst their own people." A pause, then he admits. "I am curious of the ways of his and your people. Of traditions and ways that you share. To understand what is, to me, hard to truly grasp."

The staff is a very technological thing. Almost six feet long, with energy emitters at both ends. The top seems to be more focused, though. It's really hard to say. But Rath'tklan holds it like it means something to him. "I am not one to ask of our customs. For many reasons. I am casteless, afterall. I play no role in Pantheran society, short of duties no others will accept. The dishonorable; but necessary." He works his fingertips absently over a series of controls on the staff, a mystifying pattern of buttons and a trigger -- though nothing seems to happen. "I fear, that our friend Kesslan is going to be used by his own people. He will return a Hero -- the lost one who found help. But then what is left for him, in the restoration? He has become attached to this world; the Atorians have taken everything from him in the other. A person stuck between both worlds, and I do not envy him."

A frown comes to the big male as Rath speaks. His eyes expressing his troubled thought mutely as he mulls what is stated. "I do not anticipate that he would linger on his world for the reason of his detachment form his people. Yet here he is not without friends and allies. Those who care deeply about him, including myself. While I do not know his true thoughts on such things, I have little doubt that he will find happiness of a sort here. Better still if some means can be found to control the radiation within him." Despite his concerned expression, the belief he holds in these things rings firmly within his deep voice. "Think you he will not find such as that?"

Rath'tklan shakes his head slowly. "No. Regardless of what he says, as soon as the oppertunity is presented Kesslan will want to go home to fight. And his people will embrace him, because they need a Hero. They need someone whom they can look to. But, what happens after the fighting is done and it is time to stop shooting and turn to more peaceful matters? Like so many 'heroes' I fear he may be forgotten and left behind, and then because he is not here, where he has begun to build a life..." He shrugs his shoulders in a very human gesture. "In the end, Kesslan is going to have to choose between his race, or his friends and I do not envy him that decision either. I think he will eventually make a decision, but it will not be easy. If I were him, I would remain here. Home is where you have reason to be, where you are comfortable."

Desmond muses the words quietly, considering them with a subtle shrewdness of expression. "I agree, he will want to fight. It is his nature.. his calling. But one can never truly predict what will be. You say he will be abandoned.. this us possible. But as in all things, the answer is not set to stone before it has spoken. Still, I would prefer he return here, if only because I favor his presence. So too does Aimee." Another thought crosses his mind then, one he mulls briefly without sharing. Instead, his attention fixes more intently on Rath. "And you? What is your calling? I can tell you do not wish to be here."

The Assasin shifts to one side. "You are correct in that. I do not wish to be here. However, I will adapt; I will leave this world more skilled than I came. As to my purpose here... I was asked to remain behind by the Elder for a purpose. More, I cannot say. Though, he feels there is practacality as in his own words, every Atorian within fifty parsecs is looking for me. But that is nothing new." There is almost the sense of the creature smirking beneath the mask at the idea of being caught. Bold? Perhaps. "My calling is death, for a cause. Every noble purpose; every good organization, every well-meant cause can benifet from one who is not restrained to ethics and so-called honor, and who is willing to do what measures are necessary for the greater good." Rath'tklan fingers his staff, thoughtfully. "If, for example, one being is to accept personal Dishonor.... or a hundred beings accept it, is such a thing not worth it to give a race their freedom back?"

Desmond considers Rath thoughtfully as he speaks and after as he responds steadily. "It seems you and I, in a sense, hold a similar calling.. though I am no longer beholden to the word of others for who shall see death before my blades," he rumbles, tone thoughtful. "No cause do I hold, save for those of my choosing." There is another moment before he states, "Kesslan has told me already that there are things that have been spoken of that are not to be revealed. That I do not mind. When I was excluded, I expected as much would be the case. But I wonder.. are you here to aid Kesslan in the new focus of his mission.. to gain contacts and expand his reach in this place? It is curious.. you speak much as he does on matters of the greater good."

"Nor am I. I choose what causes I pursue; and how I wish to assist." Of course, he doesn't need to say how he typically assists. "I am here less to aid Kesslan specifically as I am to aid his people, though both are obviously intertwined. Most Pantherns believe as well as we do, that for the greater good some sacrifices must be made -- we are merely a pair of those who have willingly made such sacrifices." He pauses, optics of his armor gently glowing as he looks across the park at some distant object. "And what of you? Why are you here?"

Desmond muses just how to answer that question, a space of silence stretching out for several moments before he speaks again. "At first, this place was a brief stopover. Those who did dictate my path before I had left behind. But I had only what I could carry away. Poor weaponry, minimal armor and no supplies or money to ensure my survival. So too, I was unsure what path I did wish to take now that my destiny was my own." He pauses then, considering for a flicker before he rumbles, "My intent was to gather what I required here. To prepare and determine where I might go to find.. what I required. I found it here. Thus I remain."

Rath'tklan muses that as well, seeming comfortable with letting silence flow. It is a minute or so almost, before the assassin speaks anew. "A situation that I have found myself in, before. And it only goes to renforce my core belief: Home is where you feel comfortable, and where you have a purpose. It isn't bound by such things as race, or place of birth. Home is something that you make; and what you make it." He rises, and lifting his staff to his shoulder nods slightly. "Good Evening, Desmond."

Rath'tklan muses that as well, seeming comfortable with letting silence flow. It is a minute or so almost, before the assassin speaks anew. "A situation that I have found myself in, before. And it only goes to renforce my core belief: Home is where you feel comfortable, and where you have a purpose. It isn't bound by such things as race, or place of birth. Home is something that you make; and what you make it." He rises, and lifting his staff to his shoulder nods slightly. "Good Morning, Desmond."

"Your words hold some wisdom," Desmond replies as the other feline stands. He, himself, remains sitting for the time being. Considering Rath for a moment before he queries, "You lodge in Kesslan's abode, yes? If so, know that I too live in the same area as he. In the abode marked 8. You may visit me there in the future, if you would have words and would seek me directly. When I am there, of course. There is little doubt I will have words to share with you in the future."Tags:desmond, rath'tklan