pandokofswamp

[pandokofswamp]

Yazi nodded. To him it seemed to make sense that he shouldn't tell people always when Zaya was being mean to him, she'd explained it to him in a way that made sense. He looked confused when Hastalik said he didn't have to do everything that his witch told him to. Obviously he knew that, and he didn't always do what Zaya told him to do, but when she wanted him to do something she explained why, and he didn't have the arguments against it.

"Not always," he agreed, thinking it was the right answer. He figured Zaya would agree with him on the answer too.

"It would be nice if she could hear you, else you'd just be talking to yourself." Which was odd, obviously. Though Yazi had seen many who spoke out loud while walking around the town as well, and they spoke with nobody, so it seemed to be something that two-footers just did.

His eyes grew a bit wider, and he nodded enthusiastically. "Yes, lets eat something!" Then remembering it was a festival, holiday-type of situation, he blinked. "What do you eat these days?" he asked. He looked surprised that Hastalik didn't know about the light show with the booms. It wasn't really a boom, more the crackling of fire. "Where they set wood on fire."

The pandok's own pride was evident but Hastalik did not fully fathom it. He didn't really have much he had ever been proud of though. Moments when perhaps he should have felt such a thing his family - his coven - crushed into guilt. Maybe it was why he didn't quite believe Yazi still. "So she doesn't want you telling people when she does things to you that you don't like?" he asked, since that seemed to have been what the man said. It didn't sound good, his instinct once more to try and keep the man away from this woman. "You don't have to do as she says."

Hastalik nodded his head. "It can be," he acknowledged of the cold, far less concerned with his brethren taking blankets to remain warm than he probably should have been. "I don't know," he responded as to whether or not his mother could hear him. "I hope so."

"We can go eat something," he offered, hoping he might be able to convince the other to stay away from his witch a little longer. "I'm not sure what you mean," Hastalik tried to think of light shows that exploded and could only think about the ships by the docks letting off canons.

[pandokofswamp]

Yazi nodded appreciatively. Only because sometimes he felt like Zaya was the one who made him better, who helped him to be more of a two-footer, to understand the world around him. At his heart, he was still a kid, even if he looked far older in this form. But Zaya always made sure that he knew that he was helping her too. It made him a lot more confident in that people just didn't understand him and Zaya, and that others were the odd ones.

He thought about it. Then shook his head. "I would like to be in the swamp after I die," he stated. "But I don't want you to be sad, so if you'd want to visit me while I merge with the swamp," - because Yazi had seen cemeteries and been told about them - "then I'd want you to visit me." He thought about it for a moment longer. "I think if I die when I'm old, I'll realise that I need to go back to the swamp." Like some instinct.

Zaya had a very nice way of explaining things, but maybe that was because Yazi knew the words she used and how she went about things, he nodded along and tried to envision it. His soul being passed from his body and given to Zaya. "Would I also get sick if I don't get gifted your soul?" he asked. He'd have no problems with his soul - something that Yazi understood but didn't really fit in his understanding of nature - being gifted to Zaya, as long as his body was in the swamp.

He thought about living without Zaya, and he didn't like that idea. "I don't think I'd mind if I died soon after you did," he stated. Death didn't scare him, but living without Zaya didn't make him feel nice. "Even if I were a Pandok after it happened."

He also turned to the food. Slightly frowning. "So you'd still be with me?" he asked. Confused by it as well.

Once sat Zaya offered him a nod. "It is important," she confirmed to him, hearing him reiterate what he was. It didn't bother her, it never bothered her. She wished she could explain to people more directly she wasn't the same as them too even if she looked it. Only Yazi really understood how hard it had been for both of them to adjust and how much having him as a two footer, as he put it, helped her get there. She seemed smarter than him only because she had more context for the form she was in, not because she actually was. "We make each other better as our souls," Zaya promised.

Bringing her water to her lips as he answered she took a small sip. "Is this what you would like for me to do when you die?" she asked, unconcerned this might imply any sort of oncoming death and doubting he would take it this way as typical people of this continent might. "Leave you in a swamp and stay away?"

Zaya nodded, still holding her cup of water. "When people of my region pass someone harvests our aura and gifts it to our 'familiar' or the same in reverse," Zaya explained. "It is hard to live without our paired soul. If you were to pass and someone could not gift me your aura I would likely not survive very long." It sounded rather dramatic, or perhaps romantic to some, but she had seen other's experience it, when their soulbonded being died far from their connection. It wasn't simply sorrow, it was like being tied to something festering, the decay of death polluting the other being. "I would become very sick, and probably follow you to the grave."

It only occurred to her as she said this how badly it could go for Yazi if she was to pass before him. "Hopefully some witch could fathom how to help you if I died first, but you would be returned to pandok," she offered, so he at least did not worry about being stuck in his current form.

Placing her drink down she looked up at the food laid out for the spirits or ghosts or whatever was assumed to potentially be coming. "Once our aura is passed on our bodies are unimportant, we would be removed in whatever way makes the most sense. Sometimes it is easier to be thrown to sea, sometimes buried or burned. Our auras are ourselves, so if you had mine, you would be the part of me people wished to honour or remember. You would be what they give food to."

[pandokofswamp]

Yazi nodded with great excitement. He certainly thought scales were one of the most important things on a Pandok - or on any creature though some did not have scales at all. He also had feathers, and now in other forms he had any type of covering: fur, skin, scales, feathers, and so forth. But scales were what showed if a Pandok was healthy, the biggest Pandok had the best scales. And Yazi believed he saw a difference in the healthiness of his scales when Zaya had taken care of his skin in two-footer form. Maybe he was wrong, but he didn’t care, because he thought he could see the difference, and that was the most important. “Yes!” he agreed. 

“That’s important right? I hear people talk about that all the time, like… when they find someone they spend their life with that that person should make them a better person. Or Pandok.” He added Pandok because he was of course still a Pandok. Always a Pandok first. Familiar second. And then whatever Zaya wanted him to be next.

Yazi stood behind Zaya, looking around while she ordered, then following to the table and sitting down with his long two-footer legs, knowing he needed them to sit normally because he wouldn’t be able to sit as a Pandok. And Zaya poured them both water, which he gladly accepted because he was thirsty after the walk. As he drank he thought about the question. He hadn’t really heard a lot of stories about his own kind dying. Pandoks were family creatures until they reached a certain age, then they’d go off on their own. Hunt, live, start a family, and then back to hunting and living. 

“Not really,” he said. “Pandoks usually go off on their own to die somewhere. And it’s a very distinct smell, so we stay away from the body as well until it has properly merged back with the swamp.” This was totally normal, of course. And while it was sad, it was also very much part of life. Though Yazi did not wish to die until he was very old. “Do you?” he asked.

Zaya nodded at Yazi's assertion that mortals should ask. He was right, at least for himself. For some it was easy to discern from feeling but for other's not so much. Zaya certainly knew that the way Yazi spoke and smiled could present something other than what he meant but in the end asking offered the most clarity. "I am," she agreed of her own talents.

The scales on him were odd in other forms, mostly anything covered in feathers or fur but on his two footer form it was not so bad. They offered complimentary colouring to the soft brown of his humanoid skin, the shifting scales in their pretty colour that showed what he truly was. "You picked me so you would have nicer scales?" she laughed, not to tease but because it would not shock her if for Yazi's soul it had been so simple as someone who would care for him, since that's what, in her mind, it represented. "Ai, Yazi, you are right," she assured him. "We picked each other so we could be our best."

Zaya nodded, though he simply said lamb, no indicator of what on it, she knew he meant what he'd had last and stepped towards the wooden counter, most in the establishment sat on various rugs on the floor, ceramic dishes filled with food shared amongst groups. There were a few low wooden tables with pillows, mostly customers with accents aligning to Withermore seemed to have taken to them, obviously not as accustomed to the dining as those from Cheridi or even Crirtha. There were still many open spaces and stairs that lead to a secondary level with even more. It took Zaya only a few moments to ask for a few different things before she handed over some gold pieces and was told she could sit and the food would be brought to them.

A smaller rug of deep reds and oranges was where Zaya took a seat, someone bringing a metal jug of water to them with two cups on a small tray, sitting it on the ground. Zaya offered Yazi a smile as she began to pour them each a cup. "Do pandoks do anything when one of you dies?" Zaya asked him.

[pandokofswamp]

“She was very proud,” Yazi said, tutting out his chin. He was proud as well, mostly because Zaya had said it. And he’d of course dropped the dead mice right at her feat, like a good furball would. He thought for a moment on the word mean. What did it mean to him. “Hmmm, to do something that another person might not like.” Did that make Zaya mean, in a way yes. But mostly because Yazi didn’t like to be a two-footers, even though he understood that it might be saver for him to be one at times. 

“Graveyard?” He frowned. “Like where they put dead bodies? I always thought those places were very cold. Do they bring enough blankets?” Yazi was always much colder in his two-footer form than when he was a Pandok. As a Pandok he barely noticed. “Oh that’s sad.” Yazi didn’t know if two-footer mothers stuck with their children after birth. He’d been taught and raised by both parents, because his father had made sure he became a good hunter, and his mother had looked after all of them until they were big enough to fly. “Can she hear you?” he asked. 

He hummed. “Eat things,” he decided. “I think that’s what I’ll do, and look at things.” Stare was more like it. He found it fascinating, even if he didn’t have any clue what was happening. “I like the light shows. With the booms.”

"She turned you into a furball?" he asked, presuming he meant cat. Hastalik didn't think it sounded too awful. He'd like to be a cat sometime. Would make sneaking around easier. "You caught the mice? That's good, hopefully she was nice after that."

Hastalik frowned, much as the man's witch had imagined, the male witch before him got the wrong impression about his words. He too having been told he was not meant to tell people when his family was 'mean.' He'd have offered the other a bed, some place to run to, but he had nowhere to offer and in his experience running did little good. "What does the word 'mean' represent to you?" he asked instead.

"My coven uses this time of year to replenish our strength," Hastalik answered, unsure how much of his coven's beliefs he should share. An apocalyptic death diety tended to scare people off. "Some sleep in the graveyard surrounding our temple. Other's offer themselves to the spirits for use. We do a great many things but I tend to avoid as much of it as I can. I visit my mother's grave," he admitted, not that it was really her grave so much as a grave he had decided was hers when he was little because it had the prettiest tree over it. "Tell her of myself. I never met her." Maybe she didn't care to know any of it...

"Anything you intend to do?" Hastalik asked, mostly to be polite because he was slightly concerned the man's answer would involve some cruelty from his witch.

[pandokofswamp]

Yazi nodded, he understood that. "Yes, that makes sense," he said. Even if he didn't like that people didn't ask, he thought it would be easier to just avoid those people than to have to ask it or - even worse - notice it before it happened. "You dance very good, so it makes sense that people want to dance with you, but I think two-footers should ask." Animals didn't dance... or well, not in the same way as two-footers did. He'd been a bird once and seen the dancing some birds did. Realising that now, however, shed even more light on the situation. No, it would be best if he danced just with Zaya.

He never lied about his feelings, and he also never suggested he might have other expectations. He would however say things a certain way in the hopes he could become a Pandok again. Even if he could only talk with Zaya as a two-footer, he did miss his own skin at times. Often. If he could, he'd be the two forms at the same time. Talk with Zaya and be a Pandok.

Yazi set out his jaw, proudly. He'd been an adolescent Pandok, not big, but Zaya calling him big meant something. And he was very proud of his scales and his wings. In any form he was in, some of the scales remained, somewhere on him, a hint at his original form. "Yes," he agreed. He was a Pandok through and through, but any creature wanted to be flattered, and the fact that Zaya recognised him as a handsome Pandok meant more than he could put into words.

"Maybe that's why I choose you, because you make my skin look better, not as good as your skin. Your skin looks much more healthy and shining."

The curry place smelled wonderful, and one day Yazi would ask if he could be a cat while they were here, to really enjoy the smells. At the question, he paused for a moment. He never could remember the names of dishes, he could remember how it smelled, tasted, and looked. But he remembered the good dish he'd had last. "Lamb!" he exclaimed.

"For some people it doesn't matter if you have me," she insisted. Either through a grayer morality, or, in the case of some, because multiple partners or openess was what suited them. To Zaya it was less about a concern for monogamy as it was that it seemed arduous to try and seek others who could not compete with the bond she had magically formed with him. It would only cause drama and distress, neither of which she was interested in. She liked an easy life with the soul she had bound herself to through, what she believed, was predestined. "So they won't ask because they don't care. You have to make sure you don't end up in other huts, just as I won't invite other's to live in ours."

Zaya took him at his word as their hands swung together, Yazi was not one to hide how he felt. Sometimes she wondered if he did for her. Hid things so he might be pandok more often, but Zaya tried her best not to worry on those things. Surely he liked being two footer enough so he could interact with her? And understood it was easiest for him in this place.

"Yes, a bigger pandok," she agreed. Honestly she liked pandok better than 'dragon.' Either way she smiled at him, happy that he agreed. "Even though you were already so big, the biggest I have seen," she complimented, figuring she might feed his ego a little, keep their night a happy one. "The best most brilliant scales and wings with the most feathers. It's why you are so handsome like this, even with your wrinkles, my handsome Yazi."

A few people looked when they heard her describing him with traits he did not have but most looked on quickly. With all the 'were' beings that existed, who was to say he wasn't some sort of were-bird-lizard. They were far more concerned with their offerings, some on display in the window of the curry establishment they approached, a shelf covered in filled dishes, offerings to the spirits, a feast if there ever was one. "What are you hungry for, Yazi?" she asked, unsure if he would remember a specific dish or simply the colour of it and she would have to start guessing.

[pandokofswamp]

Yazi counted on Zaya for everything, he took everything she said as the truth, because he did know he was a Pandok and she was a two-footer by nature. He knew the way through any swamp, different animals, dangers to look out for, and how to hunt. But he didn't understand two-footer things. They were confusing when half of your life was spend on four feet, belly to the ground.

And Zaya explained things in a way that Yazi understood, that made sense. Not always of course, when she was agitated she might as easily confuse him, but it was almost impossible that he got confused by her. While the world out there confused him constantly. "So they would think I don't already have you," he decided. "And that I am still free to live in someone else's hut? Why don't they just ask that, instead of assuming?"

He shrugged and kept on swinging. "I don't know, just checking," he suggested.

The town was different, a holiday was what they'd said at the bar. Yazi had asked if that meant there was more food, and he'd not been wrong. He might be a two-footer, but he could still smell well. And he smelled so much out there. "Yes," he agreed. He didn't know how, but he did. He didn't understand Zaya's magic, but he did think they were connected. He probably didn't pick her consciously, but he knew the shift that had happened, how he'd become a dragon from a Pandok wasn't something that just was done to him. He'd allowed it to happen.

"I picked you when you made me a bigger pandok so I could chase the hunters away."

When she had first made Yazi human in appearance she had not expected the frequency with which he asked her what things meant or what they were. The connection that her coven held with their soulbonded beings was known, beings capable of it were almost expecting it. Yazi had not, hadn't known the potential inside him. Just known what he was and was happy as such. With time Zaya had become ready, often admitting in this strange continent that she did not know. This, however, she did.

"Because they will think...," Zaya paused, trying to find a word or a phrasing that would make sense to Yazi. He was not stupid, she did not think that, but his mind was more literal. If she insisted dancing with people would mean they thought he liked them he would insist he did like some of them, because 'like' held one meaning in his mind, unaffected by tone or situation. "You want to be with them as often as you are with me. Some things attractive people do or say make people think that being wants to be with them always. You only want to be with me always." A statement, not a question.

Her gesture did not lessen as they spoke, arms swinging back and forth with volume, bringing him such happiness it infected her own expression, pulling deep into her cheeks, as well as her step, that began to bounce slightly. "Of course, why would you be mine and I not be yours, Yazi?" she asked him back, the lights of the town close now.

For Zaya his behaviour did not seem 'childish.' Instead the world here seemed too serious, too broken and pained, so much so they had lost the joy of simple things. Often Zaya wished she could bring Yazi back home with her, so he could see he was not alone. That other bonded pairs were like them, enjoyed jumping into lakes from high rocks, lounging in the light of the sun for hours, dancing by the firelight. It was not so simple as to return though, so Zaya made do, focusing her happiness on her companion.

"You picked me, you just don't know how because this continent is strange," she insisted, slowing the swinging of their arms as they entered the town so they did not knock anything, instead drawing their grasp against the knit brown skirt she wore, caramel skin seen through small holes. "I picked you and you picked me back. You feel this, yes? Inside?" Zaya asked as strangers began passing them. She presumed some part of him, even a part that he may not understand, could surely tell.

[pandokofswamp]

Yazi frowned, not understanding. "What's to diagnose? Is it like an illness? Are you ill?" He studied the other, who had decided to walk beside him. The Pandok hoped he wouldn't have to gently sway him into directions, because he still didn't understand the difference between left and right. "I will go first then, have my wound treated, and then you can have the doctor's attention all to yourself," he decided firmly.

"I think for a while," Yazi said - having no real concept of time other than what Zaya told him. "I left my swamp when I was this high," he said, holding a hand to about his chest. He'd been eleven when Zaya had saved him. He was technically only twenty-one, even if he looked far older. Time was an odd thing. "And we travelled around until I was fully grown, and then we settled here."

The other's words gave him pause. Not on this kind of skin - what did that mean? It was something to file away in the meantime, not entirely knowing how to ask without seeming like he was prying too hard. But he had a witch... could humans be familiars? Or was he some sort of shapechanger? Tennyson stepped forward, but the other walked in front and he let him. The bright light was giving him a bit of a headache and he almost didn't hear the other's words.

"Mortally w-" He stopped, taking a breath. "We can say yours is a bit more pressing shall we? What's wrong with me might take some time to diagnose." Tennyson didn't want to have to follow, so he picked up the pace to walk side by side. "How long have you lived here?" Maybe he knew more about where to go than Tennyson did.

[pandokofswamp]

Yazi considered the question truly, his mind going back to that day trying to remember if Zaya had told him to do anything - and anything he didn't want to do. There were certainly a lot of things he didn't want to do. He made a face. "She turned me into a furball and told me to chase away the mice!" That was it. Though he'd done it with pride, while also thinking he could've done just as great a job as a Pandok. Even if he didn't fit everywhere in the hut in his normal shape. "I was very successful at that."

"She says I'm not supposed to tell you when she isn't nice, because she doesn't like how people take the word 'mean', I think. Language is weird," he noted. "What are you doing for the festivities thingies?"

Hastalik looked up from his drink. He hadn't actually had any of it. Mostly the witch ordered beer to seem like he was the same as everyone else but he did not like to compromise his mind. The weaker it was, the easier it was for his Uncle to get inside it and make changes. Not that he could stop them really, but, at least sober, he could know that things had been changed, remember that things had maybe been different at some point than the way he recalled them.

"Oh," Hastalik let out as he slowly began to recall the man's face. He'd been injured when they met and Hastalik had walked him to a witch he was not sure he rightly should have. The way the...well, he was sure he'd called himself something that was not a man - The way the being had described the witch had not seemed like a good place for Hastalik to take him.

Pushing the drink away from himself, unconcerned with the festivities around them he nodded. The Anhci coven celebrated the month privately, as was their way, and Hastalik was forbade from enjoying the festivities of others even if he wished he could...so he might see his mother.

"I'm glad you made it the rest of the way safely yourself," he acknowledged. "Your witch was...nice to you? She didn't make you do anything did she?" Hastalik asked.

[pandokofswamp]

@lxwlers

Yazi still smelled of swamp water and fireworks. Both not necessarily related though in his situation, they might as well be. He couldn't have figured that someone would use the swamps as a place to test out fireworks for a celebration later in the year. Certainly he didn't even know what fireworks were, and thought they were just colourful arrows.

After Zaya had changed him back, he'd been fidgety. A two-footer again, he'd declared he'd go into the city and get food for their stocks. He carried a basket now as he walked around, smelled terrible, and his hair was slightly sizzled. He ended up standing in a queue somewhere - he had no idea for what - and frowning. "Have you ever seen colourful arrows that explode?" he asked.

[pandokofswamp]

Yazi wasn't sure what the ‘wrong impression’ was, but he nodded regardless. It was easy to believe everything that Zaya said. After all, she’d plucked him from the swamp and understood the world better than he did. He didn't understand the two footer world at all, so many weird things happened. Zaya did seem to understand the two footer world better, though he was glad that at times they were both at a loss. That was good. He didn’t want to be at a loss by himself all the time. 

“Okay,” he decided. Though he wouldn’t be Yazi if he also didn’t question everything constantly. “Why?” Being with Zaya was easy, she did things for him and she explained things that he didn’t understand. Most of all when he thought something was really weird, she’d voice her agreement. Yazi believed, whether without reason or with, that he could not exist without Zaya. That if she died, he’d die too. And that did not make him sad, because that just made sense. 

The Pandok grinned when Zaya also began to swing her arm, making theirs go far up and far back. He nodded more because he felt like he should - since his attention was mostly on their arms - than that he agreed completely. He didn’t think he would dance with other people, because they wouldn’t dance like Zaya danced. The swinging arms made him happy. “I’m your Yazi,” he agreed. “You’re my Zaya?” He sounded like a kid, but Yazi didn’t care. He liked puddles, running around, and swimming. He might be looking like a man, but he was definitely a Pandok.

"Good," Zaya said when Yazi admitted he did not like dancing with other people. Presuming he meant people other than her, rather than with a partner generally. "You shouldn't dance with anyone else, they will get the wrong impression," Zaya insisted, and she would have got a sour face hearing he had liked dancing with other people and did so regularly when she was not around.

Letting him swing their hands Zaya cast her eyes to him, the young man - despite what his appearance might say of his age - having warmed such a sweet place in her heart. Maybe it was his aura, the one she saw surrounding him as she did everyone else, the softness of it, the lack of complication. Or maybe it was because she knew back home it was not uncommon for bonded souls to find their way to one another, a side affect of the connection perhaps. More over still maybe it was simply because he was the only one who seemed unbothered by her bluntness.

"You should dance only with me," she told him, swinging their hands with him, dramatic long swings that caught the cooling night wind as they neared the lit lantern lights of Destarin. "And I should dance only with you," she promised, though a half promise because if he did dance with someone else she would do so to show him how badly it hurt. "You are my Yazi."

[pandokofswamp]

@hastalikanhci

Yazi understood that this was some kind of holiday period, there were a lot of things happening that he didn’t completely understand - people in masks… kind of scary. Walking around Destarin, or walking home, he saw things that suggested some kind of collective activities. Also it was a lot, and he kept on forgetting half of it, even if people at the bar liked to tell him all about it. Technically he was from Withermore, but he wasn’t a regular citizen, at least not that he thought he was. 

His head was spinning with information about bonfires and hiding from ghosts, when he got back from his break for the after lunch-slump. The bar was quiet, though not empty. He saw Hastalik and moved his glass-cleaning duty to that part of the bar. “Hi, I came home alright that day you helped me.” Had to be said.

[pandokofswamp]

Tum se kiran dhoop ki, tum se siyah rat hai...

[pandokofswamp]

Yazi loved living in the woods. All the times they had been forced to take shelter or refuge in cities and crowded places had meant he could not be more than perhaps a cat or a bird or a two-footer. When in the forest, Yazi believed he could be anything Zaya dreamt up he could be. And sure, those were very few choices, and some he hadn’t liked all that much. He’d once been a horse, but his scales had still been present on his body, and it had been an odd look. He’d been a bear, which had about the same problem, and he had been constantly hungry. 

He loved being creatures that were scaly. Though not lizards. But he knew Zaya liked it when he was soft and cuddly as well, so he did not make a fuss when she turned him into a cat. Though he’d become fussy at some point. 

Yazi shook his head. “I don’t like dancing with other people, they step on my toes or yell at me because I step on their toes.” Which was to say: he’d tried it. Mostly when people suggested they ‘teach’ him, expecting him to be at least a bit good at dancing. But their dancing was different from dancing with Zaya. He swung their hands a bit, enjoying the wind brushing between them.

The pandok's own hand in this form squeezed hers and Zaya started to lead them out of the small hut. It was easier out in the woods. She could turn him into whatever she liked more easily than if they lived directly in the town itself, not to mention there were less people to be nosey, to get into their business and ask about things. Still it meant it was always a relatively time consuming act to go to town. At the very least the districts were on the edges of things, so Ashharren wasn't near so far a walk as it was to the docks.

"You been practicing your dancing, my strong pandok?" she asked him, fingers still interlaced with his own as they walked. They were together more often than she felt most other people were with their friends or companions but their work was still at different times. Yazi seemed busiest at night while Zaya busiest during the day. She loathed the nature of the place, of gold coins and work. It was hard not to see the appeal of just taking whatever they wanted, only convinced out of it because she did not want Yazi having to constantly fight off those they wronged. "Dancing with people at that tavern?"

[pandokofswamp]

Yazi nodded, because if Zaya said so then she meant it. Though of course he’d also said mean things about her to Hastalik, but he didn’t see them as mean: just the truth. He was much happier when she put him in his Pandok form as often as possible, though he also understood that it wasn’t completely possible. He could be himself in forests and swamps and open water, but in the town of Destarin he would draw too many eyes. 

He licked his lips at the thought of spiced sauce meats. While he would just as easily eat meat without spices, and even eat it raw, there was something to two footer food, they really did want to make things a bit better. When he was really hungry it didn’t matter, but when he was regular hungry it could be nice to eat as a human. Could be. Because Yazi wasn’t picky. But he liked the idea of going out and eating food he also liked. Because he always ordered the same thing. “I like spiced sauce meats,” he said. As if that had never been said or repeated before. 

His eyes shone. A chicken sounded good. Though a good price was of course not something that they might just walk into. Not that Yazi understood much of money. Everything he made he gave to Zaya because she understood it all better than him. “Chicken yes! I’d love some chicken, I hope they have good priced chicken. It will be good protein after dancing!” He squeezed Zaya’s hand a moment, both in excitement about the chicken, and to show he appreciated. Mostly out of excitement. 

Zaya did not like all the mean names in the language they now spoke. Hag. It seemed cruel and she did not want it associated with her when she was not all the things one was meant to have the traits of - even if maybe these traits were made up stereotypes. "It is okay, Yazi," she promised him, a soft touch of her free hand to the side of his face, to the dark hair that rested along the jaw he had in this humanoid shape she had him in. "You told him the right things because you are good," Zaya insisted, though she was always less inclined to such a complimentary nature when he annoyed her - or called her names.

"We might go to the place in Ashharren with the spiced sauce meats," she described of one of the curry places within the district. It had the best food she felt, because it had the most flavours that reminded her of home. Everything in Rochielles felt rather bland to her and though what was towards the North in Laras was comforting and warm, it did not compare taste wise for the girl who had grown up with a myriad of spices to her food.

"If we see a good price we can grab a chicken on the way home for when you are pandok," she offered, her giving mood in part because he had been so cuddly as a cat that day, part of her still wishing to wrap him up in her arms but accepting his fingers between her own, squeezing softly. He was her Yazi, so sweet when he wanted to be.

[pandokofswamp]

Yazi did not fight the compliment, instead he nodded, because yes: he did have wrinkles. He was also aware that Zaya’s creams had to be applied, so he applied them willingly. Instead he beamed. He thought he was a handsome Pandok, he had very good and strong scales, and his names were really sharp and good for getting at pray. Most of all he had a strong jaw, and sharp sight. To be said his two-footer form was alright, or handsome in Zaya’s eyes, made him feel proud as well. He thought looks were important to Zaya, so he also made sure they were important to him too. 

The Pandok bit his bottom lip, he had to agree that there were rude men, though he also said what he thought, so maybe he was rude too. But he wouldn’t call a witch a hag, if he was being fair. “Maybe,” he gave her some room in this argument. “I didn’t know hag was a bad thing,” he decided. “Though the description didn’t seem like something you might like,” he said with a frown. 

He took her hand. Yazi did not really understand all that two-footers did to be close to each other, but he also didn’t mind holding Zaya’s hand. She was soft, and she made sure he didn’t get left behind. She pulled him away from things that he wasn’t allowed to look at. “What food are we getting?” he asked, as he swung her hand once to the front and once to the back before settling between them.

When it came to attire, Zaya was not one to try and convince Yazi he needed to dress like the other men around town. All their leather and layers, she did not understand it remotely. It seemed so uncomfortable, even in the winter months it seemed like the styling of their warmth was not made for comfort. So when Yazi asked if he looked presentable in his linens and sandals she approved, he could have worn no shoes if not for the fact the various stone walkways around Destarin could hurt their feet. “Yes, you look handsome, my little pandok, even with all your wrinkles,” she responded, brushing her fingers over one of his shoulders as though removing lint, able to feel the strength of him beneath. Some aspects of what he was in his true form seemed to hold true in all others, his limbs strong - in Zaya's perspective - from how he ran as a pandok.

“My sweet Yazi,” she smiled broadly when he said she was pretty, even if he said it less as a compliment as much as a statement as akin to his hunger. Zaya was easily pleased by the pandok, his words perhaps not flowery as others in town might have their desires but far more honest. Of course, her smile became a frown when he said he would not get lost.

Shaking her head she grabbed their pouch of gold, not all they had but enough for an evening and that if it were stolen they’d be okay. “You bring home rude strays,” she insisted. “No more rude men, Yazi. You let people call me hag!” He had not specifically let Hastalik call her that but Zaya still hated it had been said. “Hold my hand,” she insisted, Zaya’s palm held out for him now that the pouch of coin was attached to her hip.

[pandokofswamp]

Recommendations? Yazi should be the last to recommend anyone anything because his go-to drink - when he wasn’t in two footer form - would always be swamp water. People really underestimated swamp water. Still, he’d been told the names of plenty of drinks and had picked a few that sounded the best before deciding he’d go with those if anyone ever asked. He’d had some alcohol, but it all gave him a burning feeling in his throat that he didn’t like. He didn’t understand that any two-footer would settle for that feeling. “We have new stocks of ale from a local brewery,” he stated. “And they also make a fruity drink that I forgot the name of.” Nailed it, best bartender. 

She hadn't meant to wander in, not really. But the night's prey had entered the tavern and she had followed to keep an eye on the man. Once she had the scent of her next victim (even if she couldn't really smell them like a predator), it was difficult for Lilim to give them up.

Thus she found herself being approached by the man, pulled up short for a moment at the question. The witch didn't often drink, and certainly not enough to have a preference for what she wanted to drink. "I don't really know. Do you have a recommendation? Not red wine though, it's too sour for me."

[pandokofswamp]

Yazi looked grumpy, while he didn’t want milk now, he did like milk. Even more as a cat for some reason, but he didn’t want to give Zaya more work with his skin. While he didn’t understand what people were so bothered about when it came to his skin and looking older, he believed Zaya when she said he did look older. In Pandok-culture though, looking older meant looking bigger and bulkier and stronger, so he did not mind as much as perhaps she thought he should. 

“Okay,” he said, sighing because he didn’t like wearing two-footer clothes. Or clothes at all. But his witch looked genuinely excited to go out and get food and see a show. His dancing abilities were pretty good for someone who’d spend half of their life as a four-footed crocodile. And there was the promise of being a Pandok and getting little scratches that worked especially well on someone like Yazi. He smiled and rushed to the closet where he kept some clothes neatly piled up - not folded. He got a linen shirt and some breezy pants and the sandals he so adored because they gave him access to the wind and mud and water. "Do I look presentable?"

He sped back wearing his assortment of things and shook his head. “You are very pretty and I am very hungry,” he stated. “I’m not going to get lost, I am perfectly capable of making my way through the town.” Though the bravado was somewhat overselling his actual capabilities. 

He ignored her demands for niceness and her assertion that he was lucky to have her. "Ai," she repeated, a sound that came from the back of her throat, a gently irritated acknowledgement, in this instance that he had said something that would cause more work for her. "Cats can't just drink milk, Yazi. Don't drink milk when you are a cat, you will get sick and look even older than you already do."

Still, Zaya stepped away from him and began to look through the cupboards for something to eat. They did not have much, food went bad quickly, especially when out in the woods. She did tend to grow the basics but she suspected, being pandok, he wanted something more substancial than spinach and strawberries.

"Go put on clothes, we will go eat in town," Zaya decided as she closed the cupboard. "We can get some food, see a show," she continued, her version of a show being observing one of the street performers around the town. "You can hold my hand while we walk so you do not get lost again, we don't need you bringing home strange silly witches who put ideas in your head that I am bad."

Zaya didn't think Yazi believed the silly boy who had told him she was a secret hag but she didn't like people thought it was okay to say about her either. "Dance with me, tell me I'm pretty, maybe once we get home you can be pandok and I will give you little scratches."