Crimson

Chapter Thirteen

Small pebbles of stone hung precariously from the lip of his death state hole, deep respiration focused upon the stones. Adjusting slightly letting out a deep exhalation, free from their confinement, the pebbles cascaded down onto the lids which protected his onyx orbs.

Waking abruptly, Pligal shook his head allowing the pebbles to relinquish their grasp upon the deep grooves near his orbs. Feeling heavy, his throat still thick with the deathstate's remnants caked upon each other, altering his respiration. Clearing his throat, Pligal blinked to observe his surroundings. As the putrid fog dissipated, confusion swelled within him as he allowed his orbs to refocus upon the well-lit area he sat. The odoriferous stench which penetrated his breath holes previously inundating the patcher's den now replaced by earthy scents. The life fluid permeating his hole as well as the liberal cloth covering his progenitor organ vanished.

His bindings no longer carried the stains of injured legionnaires who may or may not have vanquished their injuries. A new hide, dark green in color, encased him. Confused, he listened for the cacophony of groans and curses that never came. Lifting his head, he peered around with clear orbs.

Astonished, he observed his surroundings carefully. Stone over stone encased them. Similar to the Seeress' domicile, fashioned to be permanent, Pligal's mouth gaped as he turned to absorb every nuance of his new location.

Carefully, he moved to sit up. Expecting excruciating pain to greet him, he witnessed minor annoyance. The annoyance of scales inflamed from a hard cycle's training. Gingerly, Pligal touched his thorax. Again, nothing met his caress. Leaning to the side, he tested his mobility further, a piercing pain caused him to wince slightly as he let in a sharp inhalation of air.

"Ah, there you are an old companion." Pligal thought to his pain.

"Be mindful young brute!" A high voice admonished.

Quickly, he turned his gaze toward the new sound. His old companion, once again, greeted him as pain flooded his neck and shoulders.

"Ugh, again he does it!" The Eron said to itself. Its voice contained an air of amusement at the spectacle in front of them played itself out.

After Pligal softened his jaw consciously in response to the throngs of pain emanating through him. Opening his orbs, once more, he saw the figure of a slim eron before him. Its scales dark, yet brilliantly outlined, each swarthy scale highlighted with golden streams of color contained a low frequency of beaming bioluminescence. The unmistakable patterns of a female eron. Vastly distinct in pattern and color from the males, their light stayed focused upon their whole being. Not the tumultuous flickering the males radiated. With elegance, regality, and great control of their bodies, these female characteristics embodied the stark contrast of female and the more feral male erons.

Understanding a female stood in his presence, Pligal quickly covered the hide which surrounded his member. Training by other males caused him to forget the modesty, which the rest of his kin, fortunate enough to not be selected for the legion, held true. Each Eron mandated from on high to cover most of their scales at all times in the presence of a female. Only those who contained the ability to contain the eggs of their kind were permitted to dress with a moderate amount of scales visible. In order to gain power over the brutish males who sought to build upon their legacy.

However, the female erons contained full control over their kith and kin as well as the clans. Only the seywaw, the females, held head eron status of each clan. Electing a zes, the male eron, who would be the Baron for their own sect. Thus, their power instilled control over the zes who sought to dominate their fairer seywaw. With this power, the seywaw became the seekers of fertility, only choosing the zes who held great potential for birthing more seywaw.