an unknown region of space

The only good thing about the desert, as far as Aithne is concerned, is that it isn't bone-chillingly cold. 

Well, that - and the bones.

Sand stretches in every direction, speckled and spotted with skeletons of varying shapes and sizes. Aithne leans over the railing of the skyship, bundled in warmer clothing than she suspects she will need in Hak Etme, if only for the altitude of the trip. Keen dark eyes spot this skeleton and that, tracing the lines of what she imagines were once dragons or horses or any manner of other creature, wondering if it was the heat that got to them or if there's something else about the desert that she should be wary of.

Either way, she doesn't move until the skyship docks, and then she disembarks, keeping an eye out for Colt Winchester. She's met Colt once before, she thinks, although she'd been tagging along with Thalassa that time and hadn't bothered much with pleasantries. An oversight, perhaps, given that she is hoping for diplomacy now - but she'd been helpful in building that port, hadn't she? Maybe that will have earned her some goodwill.

Spotting the marshal amongst the people gathered - more than she's expected to see here, in truth, though still not many - Aithne skips her way over, offering a playful salute to the region's leader. "Hi, Colt!" she chirps, flashing a fanged grin. "Thanks for meeting with me."

Aithne Murphy

Colt

Cold nights, a sleight of hand
No trace of innocence, long gone, long gone
I've been tangled up, I've been wrangling up heathens
I've been double-cupped neck-up in the deep end

She's pulled away from her current planning session, her and the two men at her side, one of whom is Wyatt, jotting down notes on paper while surveying the expanse around them. It's not too far from the skyport, or from the shrine, which had been intentional for telling Aithne to come here.

The bright voice draws her attention over, and Colt flashes her a smile. She resumes for a moment with the men, finishing up with a nod and a tap on the paper before it gets rolled up and Wyatt and the other fellow move away, back towards the skyship direction.

"Aithne," Colt greets, testing the shape of the name off paper more than anything else. Recognition flickers there, recalling the Ancient Thalassa had brought with her to the port. "I didn't realize it was you when you wrote, you're more than welcome." Colt's the sort to scratch someone's back if they scratch hers, and given how itchy she's been setting up the desert, she'll take most hand readily right now.

"Walk with me," she encourages with a motion of her hand, waiting to fall in line beside the Ancient as she leads her towards Ludo and Mort's shrine. "Your request is an interesting one, I admit. Tell me more about your vision." That she also wants a Dygra shrine here is not something she's willing to reveal, jjust yet, playing her cards a little close to the vest until she gets a handle on it all.

They all know it's the wrong road
But they still go, they still go
Fucking long days getting longer
And the dark days getting darker

Her name rolls easily off Colt's tongue, and the girl flashes a bright, fanged smile at the recognition behind the greeting. "I guess I forgot to introduce myself before," she admits, though there's no shame in it; she seems almost pleased by the surprise, this little piece of chaos she's unintentionally sown.

As she falls into step beside the marshal, her gaze flickers towards the shrine they're approaching. If she'd not been an Ancient, perhaps she'd have followed Ludo - from what she's heard from Melita, it seems like just the kind of deity that would provide the unique entertainment that she's always searching for. But, alas, she has chosen a different life, and she's proud to serve Dygra in return for the freedom to do as she wishes.

"Well," she says, returning her beaming gaze to Colt's face. "I'm an acolyte of Dygra, so spreading the word about her is sort of a part of my job." Of course, there are many ways to accomplish that - and building a shrine here is just the beginning. "I was thinking about trying to put a shrine here before I heard you were the new marshal - congrats, by the way - because it's nice and warm, and everything out here likes to try to kill people, and it just feels like the kind of chaos that Dygra worshipers would enjoy. You know, trying not to die while making an offering."

Shrugging, she tilts her head, dark horns flashing in the light. "But then I heard about you taking over, and of course the last thing I'd want to do is cause any sort of diplomatic incident. So I was thinking, having a shrine here could help, shall we say, entice people to come out here. And more people means more money. They have to stay somewhere and buy supplies from someone, after all." She raises her brows at Colt and waits; this is not, of course, her primary motivation - she couldn't care less whether the desert regions sinks or swims - but she's not above appealing to the new leader with rationale that would benefit her region.

Aithne Murphy

Colt

Cold nights, a sleight of hand
No trace of innocence, long gone, long gone
I've been tangled up, I've been wrangling up heathens
I've been double-cupped neck-up in the deep end

With a memory that slips easily on names and stumbles occasionally around faces, Colt thinks no more of the fact that they both failed to properly meet when they actually first met. "No better time than the present," she reassures with a smile as they start to walk and the details fan out on the table between them.

Brows rise with fresh consideration and a thoughtful noise vibrates in the back of Colt's throat as her words unfold slowly. "An acolyte." Saying it aloud helps Colt keep it as much as it allows her to properly appraise it. "A life steeped in devotion, married to the divine," she's evaluating the weight of such a rank as she glances alongside her to Aithne, trying to measure the young woman (although one can never tell with Ancients) with the heaviness of such commitment. "And, to chaos." Lest she forget this is not just an acolyte, but one devoted to Dygra, who oversees the inevitable lack of structure in the universe. It's quite the opposite to all of Colt's careful plans and the rules of nature she adheres to, however brutal they can be. There's a predictability to the survival of the fittest and the wheel of predator and prey, scavenger and detritivore.

Colt's appraisal does not delay, and she nods in a certain understanding, because she has also been wed to her job since a young age. If anything, it increases her esteem for the woman beside her, the first of many marks of approval as Aithne continues with a sensible explanation and thorough reasoning, one that aligns with her own in many ways. She's more amused than genuinely flattered by the congratulations of her role, but Aithne delivers it with enough ease that Colt doesn't find herself choking on the praise as she normally might, however obvious the sprinkling of it is.

"You've given this a lot of thought," she remarks as they draw to a halt before the Ludo and Mort shrine. "That's good," she assures, hands slipping into her pockets, withdrawing some lemondrop candies which she crouches down to put on the shrine. "It's no easy task, building a new shrine, so it should only be undertaken by someone committed, and with good reason to add another way to call up to the gods." From her other pocket, she withdraws a bit of braided horse hair, the remains of one who passed recently that she hopes Mort will keep company. She presses a kiss into the braid before laying it on the shrine, releasing one deep sigh before rising to her feet again.

"I appreciate your thoughtfulness, and I agree with you. I think a Dygra shrine would be well-suited here." Slowly, Colt reaches into her boot and pulls out a pack of cigarettes and matches. She taps one out, slides it to her lips, and strikes a flame to the tip. "I have plans for building more things out here," she murmurs, nodding into the distance from where they'd come. "S'why I put the skyport out here, rather than closer to the main town." She inhales on the lit stick as she returns the packs to her boot. "You can put the Dygra shrine anywhere but Suvahasi, but I'd recommend out here. I expect many people'll be looking to get their prayers answered here, and I'd rather ensure they survive their devout visits. Can't wring too much profit off a body." Smoke curls out of her mouth as she talks, drifting up and away.

They all know it's the wrong road
But they still go, they still go
Fucking long days getting longer
And the dark days getting darker