>>5566362Olu’s grin shrinks a little, the mirth leaving his eyes.
“We are generally sterilized, though,” he notes. “Jaz and I… Well, nevermind.”
You consider inquiring further but… No. Another time. Instead, you internalize what he tells you of the game of veiled courtly affection, of compliments and poems, songs and flowers, gifts of gold and various scents, and of subtle innuendo. To your surprise, the ritual of the ‘casual date’ does not seem prevalent in the Southlands… But his observations on flirtations (illicit and otherwise) among the aristocracy of the dark-skinned humans will likely prove applicable to their lighter, cold-adapted cousins as well. You thank him for it, and dismiss him as well.
As you go to take some torpor of your own, though, you find an unpleasant surprise.
“So THAT is the game, then, is it?”
It seems that your third party-member is a skilled spy indeed—he fooled even you, slowing heartbeat and breathing to mimic torpor while listening in. The old Dragonblooded One is now sitting upright, looking at you with a look of unmistakable disgust—even hatred.
“You mean to fornicate with one of the apes?”
“It is… Complicated. But sanctioned.”
“Ha. I doubt it very much, So-Called-Dragonborn.”
You hesitate before replying, finally saying: “So the Chaplain DID tell you of my… Genesis.”
“Oh, yes,” the old Infiltrator laughs bitterly. “He TOLD me, Fraudulent One. He told me before he ever told you.”
“For what purpose?” you demand.
He does not answer.
“Well,” you hiss, “I suppose there is no need to ask why you have had such an insubordinate attitude towards me throughout the last day-and-a-half, is there?”
“No,” he agrees. “What is this—some deranged vanity-project? Some mission of sentimentality, or selfish desire, at the risk of the entire Great Conspiracy? What are you PLAYING at, Degenerate?”
“I told you,” you repeat. “It is sanctioned—”
“HA.”
You close your mouth, and narrow your eyes.
“I do not know what you have done to bend the Chaplain to your whims, but I recognize well the pattern of behaviour,” the Dragonblooded One says, his human visage scrunched into an expression of pain and loathing. “You are just like your mother.”
