Gamleon's Tail ~ Welcome to the worlds of : Within ~

  "Do you recall something about the difficulty that arises when one speaks when they should listen?"

"Indeed, I do," he replied with some surprise. "The reason you feel like you need to blow off so much steam is that your mind is too concerned with the past. It's better to just let it all go. Trust me. I'm trying hard to let a lot of things go." He rubbed his meaty paw hard into the sockets of his eyes, trying to push down the anger. "My servants tell me that you paid a visit to my manor house again, and I'm sure you did so knowing that I wouldn't be there. Did you find what you were looking for? Please tell me you did." He added, knowing Makerus would pick up on the idea that he wasn't welcome to keep prowling around there.

Makerus turned his face away, not saying anything. He pushed his hand at one of the many snakes on his head, one that he had warned far too many times about obstructing his peripheral vision. Then lied, saying, "An old helm, one that I thought for sure I had left there. I'm still looking for it, by the way." Tersely, with an implication of "I will go when and where I please and you have no secrets from me."

Mettion watched the many snakes move around uncomfortably on his head, overtly staring. He had often wondered what having a sensation like that must be like. He noticed one had recently been reduced to nothing more than a lifeless nub. It still slightly bled, with a layer of gleaming pus that dripped every so often as Makerus's speech became more impassioned. He felt sorry for him again, as he had many times. Trying not to let the surge of emotion and memories display or soften his eyes, he tried to completely relax, especially his face.

Makerus stood there in silence for a moment, watching him, twitching slightly and trying to read him.

"The helmet idea again, huh? Just cover em all up?"

" Sure, why not?"

Mettion thought carefully about how to proceed before offering, "They say Innestra could and did actually see out of many of them." He pointed directly at the eyes of the snake head closest to him, almost touching it. "For a long time now, they've been made to act as little more than antenna on bugs."

Makerus' hand itched for the axe. He stopped himself, snarled, and spat. "I would never ask for your pity, big kitty, and I don't want it now. Don't pretend that you know what this is like." He made a sad and desperate gesture towards his face and head, moving his scaly, scar-covered hand all about himself. His jaw opened wide, revealing his hideous fangs and darkly colored forked tongue.

"I'm glad I don't," he spat back, knowing it would sting. "But didn't you tell me once that you had some of them... I think you said they were the ones in the back there, that you had trained or worked with them, or whatever it was. I forget how you put it, but that you were able to see as they saw. Are you still working on that? Because it could definitely prove an advantage, if we could just...."

Makerus gave him one of his "oh, you will pay for that" whole-body replies—muscles rippling, shoulders rolling, all of it—before continuing. "Yes, the old eyes in the back of the head bit."

Mettion felt the tension and knew it would come to blows at any moment. He took his time breathing deeply and checking his footing. He checked the location of the weapons nearby, all the while briefly recalling a time when Makerus was severely ill and infected after being in one of his fits, lopping off many of the serpents that covered his skull. He had apparently passed out from either blood loss or pain before Mettion had been summoned to try and deal with the aftermath.

Neither said anything for an uncomfortable amount of time.

Makerus did not adjust his position strategically, or his distance from the axes. He opted instead for, "I thought you had some of the best Volerune working on it for me or with 'me' in mind especially."

"It would be no easy task to completely reconfigure you. You must know this by now. I can't get the essence of what is truly you into another form... and neither could they."

Makerus recoiled, ashamed and angered. "I think that's what you would say, even if you could. I've seen them clone every single individual part and build things that neither of us could ever imagine. If I had known you would be this much trouble, I would have squashed you on the day you came from the vat."

"You know, there are many days that I really wish you would have. Would've saved us both so much trouble. But then you would have to do all the things I do now. We both know that wouldn't work. Have you heard that one? A sailor there in Zyderia says it's better to deal with the devils you know than those you don't, or something along those lines. It's a common thread, and it's spreading. But it makes sense. Take one bully in this group of pickpockets off the street, and within the night, they'll be replaced by at least one, if not ten more."

"Oh, so you're gonna go back and do this again, the old idea of 'it's better us than someone else.' You're stalling," he wanted to add, but the words never left his lips.