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There is laughter outside the temple. Iron Lords new and old are gathered in the courtyard-like front, scattered and in groups. There are swift Risen doing somersaults and knife tricks, scholarly ones defying the world's gravity, and those of brains and brawn testing their might against each other in the snow. It's a quite a show, to say the least.
A keen eye for competition surveys the clamor of Iron Lords. The others ignore the dormant Warlord's gaze as he sits and observes from afar, an expressionless totem watching over the recess. Shaxx is less bored than he is amused as he keeps a close eye on the organization of such an obscure event--if there is any. He isn't witnessing a fully-fledged skirmish, but a preparation of some sort.
The rigid Warlord startles slightly as he's joined by an Iron Lady who's all too familiar by now.
"A little different than one-on-one combat, yeah?" Efrideet says, crossing her legs at Shaxx's side.
He nods. Much different than the usual trial by fist he's been accustomed to. "What's all this? Recreation?"
A part if him feels a fool as Efrideet laughs at his inquiry.
"They're prepping for the Iron Banner, the monthly competition meant to test our Light through combat. It's a tradition of the Iron Lords."
Efrideet's cadence holds pride and respect that Shaxx admires as he nods again slowly. "Iron Banner," he repeats. He thinks of all the months that have gone by without his notice of this competition. It's a shame, he thinks, that it's somehow passed over his head. There's nothing more thrilling than a chance to prove oneself in such a way.
Any worries of his questions being foolish go off the side of the mountain. "Is there a winner?" In a secluded region of his heart, there's a glimmer of excitement for such an idea.
"It depends," Efrideet says. "Either it's every Lord for themself or a single team comes out victorious. Though I, personally, think that simply partaking in it and giving your Light a chance to grow and strengthen is a victory by itself."
Shaxx continues to watch the Risen as he mulls over her words. The importance of the Light stands true within Efrideet. One cannot survive simply with only their fists, nor just their Light. The two are complimentary of each other. Despite her youth, the Lady carries a particular wisdom that's he's grown fond of.
Efrideet's gaze follows his as she looks out onto the courtyard. "You could join in on the fun, if you wanted."
Shaxx laughs at that. "A disruption is the last thing they need. I'll do fine observing."
"Very well. Bunch of kiddies, anyway." Efrideet's sentance is almost cut short as a stray knife pierces another Lightbearer at the base of an armored throat. Shaxx winces and Efrideet coughs. There are times when he forgets that not all Risen have had their share of the fight.
The Iron Banner burrows itself a reserved space in Shaxx's mind. The concept of a battleground, an arena even, focused on strengthening each other has crossed his mind many times over the decades. The only problem is the difference of mind and the lack of unity across the territories. But if there could be comradery...
He would have to spectate during the next competition.
A light breeze blows. Shaxx's attention is taken from the courtyard to the weary sound at his side and he turns to see the white furs shifting as Efrideet stretches.
"Anyway," she yawns, patting his arm, "I'm going to get some rest while I can." Shaxx tracks her as she stands. "You're more than welcome to join me."
The Lord hesitates. "I wouldn't want to disturb you, Efrideet." Efrideet tilts her head. Her mind hasn't changed despite such a strongly backed counterargument.
"I wouldn't mind a little company." The Lady's head flicks to her side briefly. "Up to you. You know where my quarters are."
The faceplate of her helmet lingers in his direction for a delicate moment before she departs for the chambers beneath the mountain. Shaxx sees her nod and he stands, an anchor dropping in his chest when Saladin comes into view. As the Wolf greets him the thoughts of competition and rest fight for vacancy in his head. He's doing his best to listen to Saladin, but a thought forms that is far too comfortable, given the time. He glances to the hall.
A quick lie-down couldn't hurt, could it?
-
Saladin's words are disregarded as Shaxx makes his way through the temple. Amid the Warlord's curiosity for the event and the information that was presented to him, those ideas don't concern him right now. He's thinking of something less intensive.
With the amount of time spent listening to Saladin go on and on, practically trying to persuade him to become an Iron Lord, Shaxx is sure that Efrideet is already asleep. She sounded rather tired and her voice didn't carry it's usual spiritedness. Even though she obviously wanted to rest, she insisted on his company. It puzzles him as he continues down into the temple.
The idea of joining her isn't a risk, nor is it any form of distraction. He doesn't mind the idea, really. What draws his attention as he descends down stairs is how often she's in his head. Her laughter in that lively voice, her wits. He isn't ashamed to admit that he feels brighter when Efrideet is around, graced by an aura that is too wonderfully contagious. In the times when she isn't, his discouragement makes itself present, it's a lacking, almost. Sometimes he even misses her.
The thoughts in his mind are less appropriate for him than they are for a juvenile boy. He shakes them off. Why has he let his guard down? In a territory he still doesn't feel wholly welcome in he has allowed himself to develop bonds faster than ever...one might call it attachment, even.
Shaxx doesn't ask his Ghost for answers, but he feels unsolicited solutions pop into his head, anyway.
All these years on your own have made you lonesome.
Perhaps the Iron Lords are worthy of your companionship?
That woman has you by her finger, she is leading you on.
The Warlord huffs the wisps out of his ears. Neither wanted nor helpful. Why would it matter if he was being led on? A precaution, he supposes. Shaxx isn't as vocal with his little Light and does well to keep him safe and hidden. All silence is made up with his occasional--and often times irritating--suggestions that Shaxx doesn't protest against. At least he was given someone to talk to.
His arrival to the temple's quarters shoos off any stray Lords who are quick to reroute themselves with the illusion of purpose. Unintentional, but it clears a path for Shaxx to find Efrideet's door without catching eyes. Not that it's something to be worried about. He reminds himself that his journey down into the temple is not about his self-image regarding affiliations with the Iron Lady behind that door (though the thought is ever so potent as of late). There's a moment of second-guessing; would he be disturbing her, did she mean her invitation, but he shrugs it off and turns the door handle.
The rooms of the Iron Temple are not grand, but there's still space. Humble. And very low. Shaxx has to duck through the doorway and is so preoccupied with accommodating his size that it takes a moment for him to see Efrideet laying peacefully on the blankets.
The door closes with a gentle click. Immediately, a wave of calmness rushes through him at the sight of her in the low light and the soft breaths that fill the silence. So does a layer of vigilance, as no matter how many times he's visited her here it still feels like an intrusion of some sort.
He lays a light hand on her shoulder, knowing that standing there staring won't do him much good. Efrideet draws a breath at her soft-spoken name and turns to his faceplate with a dreary smile. She beckons with a small flick of her head for him to join her, and Shaxx blinks. If she's so inclined, he thinks, noticing that she has left a lot of space for him already.
His helmet rests on the wood of the nightstand and he tests the side of the bed with a knee, unsure if the frame will sustain his weight. It proves to be sturdy as he situates himself, though his ankles are far off the edge. It doesn't matter as the woman in front of him rolls to her other side to face him.
"Good to see you," she mutters, eyes closed. Shaxx brushes stray hair from her forehead. "Saladin bug you?"
Shaxx smiles, her arm coming over his at his side to guide it over her waist. He rests it over armorless leathers, and the curve along her back brings him a serenity that calms his nerves.
"Like you wouldn't believe," he teases as softly as possible. His smile deepens as hers appears and he catches a quick glimpse of emerald eyes.
"Tell me about it later?"
Shaxx nods, though Efrideet is already drifting off again. He will certainly offer words for open ears, but that will be for another time. For now, all he concerns himself with is holding her. The way she nests herself below his chin fills him with a certain pride to know she is comfortable while so close, and a newfound responsibility to keep her safe in her sleep finds his heart. There's a gentle ignition in his Light, a strengthening perhaps, as Efrideet moves closer. He knows that this is right.
His thoughts quiet as her breathing picks up a steady rhythm, and after a few moments of gratitude for where he is, he lets his own eyes fall shut.
All other tasks can wait.