"If her people are the ancestors of my people, I would certainly take some solace from that. It is something I will have have to investigate at some point."

The idea of demons with the ability to be good, or at least not forced by their nature to be evil, was certainly an interesting one, and one that had the potential to change a lot. But her mind was very quickly distracted by Sirona's explanation of her armor. Malati's eyes went as wide as saucers as the angel demonstrated how her magical armor worked. She nodded slowly as Sirona explained how the armor could move to better protect her, and would even repair itself. "That's amazing. You could even make it move so you have greater range of motion."

When Sirona summoned a blade and shield from her gauntlets, Malati gave a bit of a brief gasp, half in surprise and half from pure excitement. "That is amazing!" she exclaimed again. "Not only can you use that to surprise your enemies, but you also don't have to carry around a shield and sword if you don't want to." Malati chuckled a bit as she shrugged to wiggle Windsong slightly. "I have to admit, carrying around even a shorter version of a glaive can be cumbersome from time to time. But I know what you mean about 'coming in handy more than you care to admit.'"

Malati carefully unslung her weapon from where it lay strapped to her back. "I've had to put Windsong to her intended use far more times than I care to remember." She looked at the weapon her mother had given her, a mix of adoration and disappointment on her face for that brief moment. "The worst part is that I love to fight. The way I was trained, fighting is like meditation in a lot of ways. You drop into the correct mindset, and your weapon, and even your opponent, are almost extensions of yourself. Everything but you, your weapon, your opponent, and their weapon drops away. But most of the time when I get to fight with Windsong, it's because life and death are on the line." With one more look of adoration and disappointment, Malati placed her weapon back over her shoulder. "And when you're fighting for a life, it kinda ruins that meditative state…for me at least."

As Malati asked Sirona about her tattoos, she was surprised to see the angel's cheeks redden. She wondered if she had said something that she should not have, she really hadn't intended to embarrass her. Her tattoos were just so amazing! Is it embarrassing to have someone fawn over your tattoos? she thought, trying to puzzle it out. But before she could follow that train of thought for much longer, the angel complimented her work and the tiefling couldn't keep the huge grin from her face. "Thanks! I had to practice a lot," she chuckled a bit, "I have more than a couple other ones that did not come out nearly so well."

She smiled again as the angel moved her magical armor, that would never be anything less than interesting, to show off more of her tattoos, but the smile faded somewhat as Sirona explained some of her past. Waking up with only the barest memories of your past must have been extremely frustrating, to put it mildly. And here she was, asking about her past like it was nothing. Isn't that basically the same thing that had happened when Sirona asked about her horn? And Sirona was answering without any reservation.

"Oh, there's nothing to be sorry about Sirona! I didn't realize, I'm sorry if I brought up something too personal. If it is any consolation, whoever did them is really talented."  Malati thought for a moment as they continued their walk around the tree. Sirona had shared something really personal, and Malati had avoided sharing something really personal. Was that fair?

"Uh…so, Sirona," she said hesitantly, "I asked you something really personal, and you answered." As she spoke Malati could feel her voice growing steadier, and surer about this. "You asked about my horn and scar earlier, and I'd like to tell you what happened." She smiled, and surprised herself when she genuinely felt confident about this. "I want to tell you what happened. If you're still interested that is. Don't wanna bore you with a story you're not interested it."

”I can to a point, it still has its own limitations in range of movement and they aren’t much more than my own really. It just makes it easier is all.” Sirona replied as she showed the shield and blade that were built into her armour for back up use. ”The shield can only take so much punishment before the magic fizzles and needs to recharge, and the blade is shorter than my normal blade. They’re handy back ups though, not things I’d want to fight with all the time, not without more training and a stronger gem for the shield.” She explained. ”I can see that about the glaive, it is a long weapon indeed, still, one I have no practice in using either. There are times I’d like to sheath my blade on my back, but alas, wings won’t let that happen, even the space between I need open so I can flap them.” Sirona shrugged, resigned to that issue at this point, she couldn’t change the facts about her body so she had to learn to live with them.

Sirona watched Malati handle her weapon and smiled. ”Is that was a weapon passed down, Malati?” Sirona asked carefully as she listened to Malati explain her love of fighting. ”I tend to use violence as a last resort if I can help it, but often I found people would rather fight then talk.” She sighed. ”So I am happy that you were one to talk, Malati.” Sirona smiled.

The talk of their respective tattoos came up and Sirona’s cheeks turned red since she didn’t know what hers meant. She praised Malati’s work first since the Tiefling had said she had done her own, and she had done well in Sirona’s opinion. She explained that she didn’t know what her work meant nor who did it and gave some of her background as well to Malati. ”No no, you don’t need to be sorry, Malati. And thank you.” The latter was for her compliment towards the work done itself.

Malati then surprised her by saying that she would indeed tell the story about her broken horn. Sirona would admit to curiosity, but she hadn’t forgotten the way Malati had reacted when first questioned about the subject. Sirona turned to face Malati fully. ”I won’t lie, I am curious. But only tell if you’re truly comfortable, Malati, ok?” She cautioned, but would listen closely if Malati ultimately decided to explain what had happened.

Malati smiled as she and the angel spoke of weapons and armor. It had been a long time since she’d gotten the chance to talk about these kinds of things. “My mom, she’s the one who taught me about weapons,” Malati said to explain why she was suddenly talking about her mother, “always used to lament that she couldn’t do a side draw. She loved the biggest weapons,” she explained as she spread out her hands as wide as they could go, as if trying to demonstrate their size. “And big weapons don’t do well with a side draw. They’ve gotta be worn on the back. Useful for keeping out of the way, but with a side draw you can draw and attack all at once.” Malati smiled and gave a shrug with sent her own stored weapon wiggling against her back again. “Or so she said. I never had much talent for longswords or the like.”

The tiefling turned the angel’s words over in her head as she finished the series of strikes and spins with her weapon and put it away again. Was Windsong passed down? “Probably not in the way that you mean, Sirona. My mom gave it to me, but I think she had it custom made. Or she bought it from someone…I know we had to go into town to get it, but I wasn’t with her when she picked it up so I don’t really know.” Now that she was thinking about it, she didn’t know much about who’d made Windsong or where it had come from. It was possible it had belonged to her mother all along, but if that was the case surely she would have said something about that when she’d given it to Malati? “Well, even if Windsong wasn’t passed down before, maybe I’ll start that tradition if I ever have a kid,” she said with a chuckle. Kids were not something she wanted any time soon, but she did like the idea of Windsong becoming a family heirloom with a storied history. And of course, a storied history would require good stories.

“My mom did give me this weapon though, and taught me how to use it. But she wasn’t the one who taught me how to treat fighting like meditation. That was….that was someone else.” Placing Windsong along her back once again, Malati frowned a bit. Would memories of Jyeir ever not cause her to frown? Probably not.

She nodded in complete agreement when Sirona said that violence was a last resort for her. “Yeah, I’m glad too. Like I said, I hate hurting people, I just like the fighting part. Maybe I need to find a tournament or sparring partner or something. That way I can fight, and not have to really hurt anyone.” That was something to think about, she’d have to keep an ear to the ground for that kind of thing.

With the conversation about tattoos coming to a close, Malati rolled her sleeves back up. She was glad that Sirona didn’t mind talking about this personal part of her life, but it did make her think about her own unwillingness to do the same. As soon as she offered to tell her story to the angel, Malati knew it was the right thing to do. The story still hurt her, and she was still ashamed of it though she knew she shouldn’t be. And while she was nervous about telling the story, she knew she had to do it. More than that, she wanted to. 

“I can’t say I’m comfortable telling this,” she said with a weak, but genuine chuckle. “But I know I want to do this. It’s tough because I haven’t told it to anyone yet, despite it happening….like, Gods, two years ago?” Malati took a breath and thought for a moment, covering the action by taking Windsong from her back again and using it as a walking stick, “So when I was 16 my mom and I went into the nearby….hmmmm wait, maybe that’s not the place to start? Sorry,” she laughed. “Like I said, I haven’t told this before, still trying to figure out where to start.” Then Malati did something she had not done in a long time, she ran through the events in her head.

She wiped away a tear before it could fall from her eye. Could be a worse start, she thought as she made sure no further tears would fall. None came. “So when I was 16 I was sent to train with a woman who lived near my mother and I…near relatively speaking. We lived in the Highlands, so near in this case was a full day’s hike. I won’t go into why right now, though I can later if you’d like, that’s a bit of a better story. But I was sent to train and live with her because it was decided that I needed more discipline, and this woman, Jyeir, was a monk. I don’t think she was a monk the way your monks were monks. She lived alone in the woods, and was really good at focusing and meditation, that sort of thing.”

In her mind’s eye Malati could still picture her old mentor’s face, always serene despite whatever was going on around her. “Anyways, she taught me discipline and meditation and focus, and how to apply those to fighting.” She couldn’t help but laugh at that. “Sorry, I got sent to her cuz, in short, I was fighting when I shouldn’t be, and then I got trained to fight better.” She smiled and shook her head, clearing the humorous irony from her mind so she could continue. “She was my mentor for those years, and taught me so much. She was….” Malati’s voice trailed off as she grasped for a word or phrase to explain. From the way Sirona had reacted to the idea of demons and humans having children, and her description of the giggling and touching trees, Malati suspected the angel wasn’t fond of discussions of sexuality, at least not with strangers. Malati didn't blame here there. So she was not going to tell Sirona that Jyeir and she had become romantic. But lying and saying she was like a sister or parent felt entirely inappropriate, they’d shared a bed after all.
She cleared her throat, “She was like family.” This was the truth, just not all of it. “And then she betrayed me. She was…I don’t know, it all happened so fast I still don’t have all the details. But she was…,” again, Malati grasped for a word, “bound to something. Something dark and evil, and she wanted to bind me to it so she might be free of its control. She was taking me to some, ritual I guess when I figured it out. We struggled and fought. She took Windsong from me, and tried to kill me.” Her eyes glanced to the weapon in her hand, the blade covered in two kinds of blood that she knew weren’t actually there anymore.

Malati reached up with her free hand to touch her horn. “She stuck me with it, right here. The blow should have killed me. Windsong is razor sharp and, despite the thin blade, incredibly strong. Maybe it’s because she’s lighter than most glaives, or maybe my horn took the brunt of the blow. But either way, I am sure the blow should have killed me. So I played dead, and when she came to check on me, I grabbed my weapon and took it back, surprising her. She wanted me dead, and I had a moment’s advantage. She was my mentor, so she was better than I was, stronger. I had to take advantage of the one thing I had, surprise. So I did, and I killed her.” 

Another tear fell from her eye, which she hastily wiped away as she watched the angel's face for any hint of what she might be thinking now that the story was told.

Ah, her mom taught her how to wield the weapon, that was rather beautiful in Sirona’s mind. To have a mother pass down something to her daughter was an amazing thing, and it kind of ached Sirona’s heart at the same time. But she kept that from her face. ”I have tried larger weapons as well, but I have always comes back to sword and shield, it’s what, I guess, I am best trained in using.” Sirona added and smiled at Malati’s saying of possibly starting the tradition of handing down the weapons to her kids, if she ever had them. ”I think that would be a wonderful tradition to start, Malati, keeps the history of your family alive, reminds the next generations where they came from.”

They agreed on fighting being their last resort if they could help it, that was good. ”Well, I can’t say I know of any tournaments right now, but, I can spar with you any time if you want, Malati.” Sirona offered, liking that idea and hoping that Malati would as well. To pit their different styles against each other would be fun and a good learning experience for both as well.

Malati went onto tell the story of her broken horn and, as a result, more of her past. Sirona listened in silence the whole time, Sirona was a great listener, patient and never let her mind wonder away, rarely interrupting. She never cut in as Malati spoke however. When Malati was finished, Sirona didn’t say anything for a few moments, instead she moved closer to Malati and went to wrap her arms around the tiefling and draw her in for a tight hug. If Malati didn’t push away Sirona would hold her close for a moment and even open her wings and wrap them around as well. ”Killing is never easy for those of us that use it as a last resort. You were defending yourself, Malati, it’s a hard memory, I know, but you made the only choice you could.” Sirona spoke softly. ”Betrayal is a horrible thing, she made her choice but you were stronger in the end.” Breaking the hug, a thing that Sirona wasn’t squirmy with in this context, it Malati didn’t break it before that, Sirona smiled to Malati. ”You are alive, you are with your family, the Gods are watching over you, Malati.” She thought a moment. ”Scars do not form on the dead, scars mean we survived. This scar,” She reached up and gently ran her fingers across the broken horn and smiled to Malati. ”is your proof of your survival. It’s a hard lesson and memory, but one that, I believe, you should still wear pride, not shame. There is no shame in surviving.” Sirona finished, hoping that her words would help.

Malati beamed brightly when Sirona offered to be a sparring partner. Since her and Jyeir’s….falling out, Malati had only had a chance to use her hard earned talents with Windsong when life and death were on the line. Despite all the awful parts of her time with her old mentor, she had missed the quick training combat they’d had. So the angel’s offer to spar was a very welcome one, and Malati had never fought someone wearing full plate, it would be an interesting challenge.

Nodding enthusiastically, the Tiefling quickly responded, “Yes! That would be great! Not now…this place,” Malati gestured widely to the strange and beautiful scenery of Horae, “is too special to disrupt it, even with something as fun as a spar. But I will for sure take you up on that offer someday soon!” She continued on silently for a few moments, observing the way the magic of the island allowed for all four seasons to exist at once, when something occurred to her and a frown worked its way on to her face. “Though, now that I think of it, I don’t know how to find you for that spar,” she chuckled a bit. “I am traveling around right now, but usually you can find me in Mamlak. There are a few people around who know me, so shouldn’t be too hard to find me there once I get back. There aren’t that many one-horned Tieflings with light glaives,” she added with a smile.

Malati did not add that the reason she was known in Mamlak was her habit of getting into trouble. Not that anything she did was immoral, but some of it was certainly illegal. Since her discovery of Jyeir’s true motives, Malati found her eyes were opened in a way they hadn’t been before. People in power, like Jyeir, tended to abuse those whom they had power over, like herself. Seeing the world with new eyes, Malati found herself helping those without power, and sometimes that meant upsetting people with it, people who sometimes wrote laws or enforced them. So finding someone who at least knew of her in Mamlak should not be difficult.

“But where might I find you? I get the sense that you’re a bit of a traveler too. Or am I wrong?”

It wasn’t long after this that Malati’s story came out. It poured from her mouth in fits and starts, and then in a constant stream until it, mostly, lay between the Tiefling and the Angel. With the story out of her mouth, Malati took in a stuttering breath to steady herself as she felt the pain, anger, sadness, and, most of all, the shame flood over her as if Jyeir’s bloodied body lay at her feet this very moment. While she had to wipe away a single tear, and steady herself with a breath, Malati was overall happy with the level of control and calm she’d achieved. 

She was by no means calm in this moment, but she was calmer than she had ever expected to be after telling that story. As she contemplated this small bit of progress she was shocked to feel Sirona’s arms and wing envelop her in a hug. At first the Tiefling’s body went rigid with surprise at the sudden gesture, but after a moment every bit of tension loosened and she wrapped her own arms around the angel. 

As Sirona said her peace and they released each other from their hug, Malati could not help but smile appreciatively. She had not said anything that she, herself, did not already know, but hearing them come from someone else was meaningful in a way that hearing them from herself was not. Malati reached up to run her fingers along her broken horn; it was a gesture that was very familiar to her, but now that Sirona had done it as well, it felt different, like it was a remembrance of her kind words rather just a nervous habit she’d developed.

“Thank you, Sirona. I…I know, but it’s good to hear it from someone else,” she said sincerely. “But,” she continued, surprising herself somewhat, “the pain, sadness, anger, guilt, all of that I can…I have adjusted to. I hate having to have done what I did, but you’re right I did what I had to to survive. What gets me, what I haven’t…,” Malati gestured broadly, unsure of what she was looking to convey at first. “You said I should wear pride, not shame. But the shame I feel isn’t that I killed her. She didn’t leave me a choice, I did not want to but I had to survive. No, I’m ashamed that I believed her, that I trusted her, that I loved her. I feel,” Malati took a breath in through clenched teeth, her fingers balled into a tight fist. “I feel like a fool. I should have known, I should never have fallen for her lies and tricks, but I did, I couldn’t see her for what she was…I still can’t, not completely.” Malati’s voice heated as she spoke, angry at herself for allowing herself to be tricked. A small voice in the back of her mind, reminded her that that is not exactly how it worked, but it was quiet and distant. 

Sirona smiled when Malati realized that they could have trouble finding each other. ”It might be easier then for me to find you in the city. I do wander the lands, coming from Onnen I am exploring Canelux at the moment and I plan to eventually travel to Parvpora and explore there as well. I don’t have any one place that I stay regularly, at least not in Canelux, I’ll have to come find you.” Sirona explained with a small smile.

Malati explained her story in detail and Sirona did what she could to help ease Malati. She felt Malati go rigid for a moment before that tension melted away. Sirona said her peace and she listened as Malati replied. Ah, that was where the guilt came from; from being tricked into believe in her mentor, unable to see the looming betrayal. Reaching out Sirona gently took Malati’s balled up fists into her own hands, even though she wore gauntlets, and looked to Malati’s eyes. ”But how could you have known? From what you told me she never displayed any signs of what was to come. You were sent to her to train with her, by others that you trusted, so it only follows that you would put your trust in her as well.” Sirona explained. ”It’s a tough learning experience, Malati, that’s for sure, and I can’t say I know how that kind of betrayal feels. But I can say that I believe you have grown because of it.”

She smiled. ”Don’t stop putting your trust in people, Malati, but do trust your instincts. They’ll keep you safe, keep your eyes and mind open. I’ve put my trust in you, Malati, I hope you can put your trust in me.”