"Should be it." The last bin of feed for both rookers is slid among the three, set by he and Thane…Ylyssus straightens his back and winces, "…Wish I had my old limberness back." The animals clack their brown and gray beaks over the large barrel of water, also set by Thane and he from the wagon now dismantled and in idlery at the eastern mouth of the caverns. Bright feathers spread above the rookers' high rostrums and golden eyes, in a contented fluff-out. Ylyssus touches up placement of a few boxes, stored away from the feed, then cups a rooker's head in his palms, "…This one here, is Ki'ana. The other, Tegal." The gold eye looks back at Thane from between the arms of Ylyssus, whose hands pet down the feathers.

"You are a challenger to Casnar for Braith," Thane says, "…Why does he have you working for him."

"He saved me. Couldn't help Braith," Ylyssus answers, no shyness about taking the question head-on. "While she was in Mohouni," his eyes to Thane's, "…We took care of each other…We took care of others, we did…I did things for her, she for me," he drops his gaze to the rooker's eye, which tilts upwards at him, "…We used each other…Eventually had feelings come into play. Never would I challenge Casnar…She chooses who she will be with…Will she always choose him?…" Ylyssus looks up, "…Remains to be seen."

Standing before each other, both quiet. The rookers make whistles through the beaks. It feels different standing there with someone else in love with Braith—to Thane, that is. "What's the story with you two." Both rookers raise heads, lift crown feathers in early response to Miranda's arrival. In her hands, two mugs filled with steaming water, tea pouches floating halfway submerged. "Not sure how either of you take your tea, or if you do at all," to Ylyssus, "…It's hot, fresh…Mint, Thane?" She passes a mug to him.

Ylyssus holds the mug she gives. "Thank you."

"How did you learn Common," she asks, standing beside Thane as she faces Ylyssus. Holding Thane's wrist to carry his mug to her lips before he can take it to his own, she sips the tea, "…Mmm." Garrus gives a loud curse as he waves claws…A dextro-packet has leaked on him, over by the fire with Grunt, who himself was heating his own meal, taken from private stock boxes out of the Ni S'pri. Bits of dextro-sauce on the face from Garrus's pressure-popped packet, the krogan looks a tad annoyed. Both rookers watch from the cave, drawn by noise, now by smell. Their hawkish eyes lock on Grunt's meal in his claws.

Grunt gives the nosy creatures mean stare-offs.

Ylyssus considers, "…I was raised in a place steeply engrossed towards making young Drells worldly…universal more accurately-puts it, I think."

"Merce'des."

"Casnar probably told you some of it."

"A few words." Miranda draws his eyes. "What can you share?"

"I will only discuss with you what you wish to know of Braith." Miranda and Thane lean forward to hear him—over the sudden growl from Grunt at the closing rookers. "I can speak of anything else but the cloth of my brotherhood."

"What do you remember of Braith, last you saw each other," Miranda asks, pursing her lips.

"Braith changed a great deal from when she arrived." Feeling the mug with his fingers, Ylyssus studies the structure and design in its surfaces, made from so many distances away—the thought of its origin fascinates the former th'ane. "Always strong of will." He remembers with fondness, "…Always knew what she wanted…Tried to kill herself, by taking caton to her back, under the act of protecting another Drellahna from the punishment…She asked me to teach her Rakhïken…We did so learn together, in so many ways," his voice softens. His tebris fills its valleys some—the call of carnal memories with Braith. She chose me over Dolatrafas…That was when we were mated for life…Little Behe cemented us, and when she was lost…

"Did Braith ever reveal she was a biotic," Miranda asks, "…Did you see her…manifestations…ever presented while you were with her?…You understand I mean her power that she purportedly uses to attack with now."

Ylyssus gives a gentle shake of his head, "…Braith…never indicated to me she had such power—that she was I'lorie…She did say often she was tougher than most Humans," he smiles, "…Other than her strange connection to the morthwyl, none knew she was capable of the magical energy…"

"Morthwyl…What Morthwyl," Thane asks.

"Morthwyls, denizens of the land returned Death to Life," he whispers, raising his eyes to them. "Led by one, the kylah—"

"A knight," Thane translates for Miranda, "…I've read the term in old training books…"

"A knight," Ylyssus says, "…by the name Cemal. Braith and he were, shall I say, in cooperation. He trained, protected, followed her everywhere, so she told me, and I believed. When she fought a champion of the double sabers in our plaza before the cottus in Mohouni one morning, I knew who had taught her…I asked her and she admitted it…Cemal is her kylah."

Thane raised an eyeridge. "Trained her with blades, you meant."

"Yes."

"Why did this Cemal help her," asks Miranda.

Ylyssus looks into the mug and thinks, "…She never knew why the morthwyls obeyed her…waited for her, she told me, like they were expecting something…Cemal was preparing for something…Aspah made her take his Behedins, his hunters, into Rakka, believing that whatever she caused for the morthwyls to not attack his favored hunters would be acceptable not to have to understand, so long as everyone returned alive and with bounty…"

"Aspah sent her into Rakka to ensure his hunters would not be harmed," Miranda asks for clarification and Ylyssus nods.

"They hunted terrible game there…I remember," Ylyssus's eyes grow distant and flicker with memories of the first hunt's return,

"…She comes unlike the others…Behe, not Braith Shepard…She is the wind, wild and calm…Black are the furs, the ashes, dark are the scars on her skin and inside where no eyes but hers and the morthwyl might see, if they care to look…She wears his blades over cords of leather, a hood Bromthas has sewn for her as her honorable gift from him…Knives and vials of venom in her garb…The young one, Dolatrafas, sniffs after her heat like a hound wuliton to mate…She is stronger, terrible and speaks in song, better than she was able to before she went to Rakka…Her gray eyes are sad and have seen things she will not utter to me…I lay with her and she clings to every throe, every breath is like her last…When I open my eyes, she watches me, and rarely does she close them but to sleep only when she exhausts herself on me…I smell nothing, but I can imagine the taste of the poison ash I remember from the mines…She leans into me at the fire and accompanies our fellow Sereptas to and from the quarters for until the Behedin call her to leave…I fear for her, I wonder if she is safe…She comes back and each time she brings more game, more lives of her Behedins unharmed, more weapons…She protects me now, whereas before it was I who protected her from everyone…Aspah uses me to control her…He is afraid she will understand the connection she has to Cemal and it will embolden her…It already has."

His pairs of eyelids flutter and Ylyssus comes from his trance to see them before him after his mental montage of memories of she who could not be beaten, his idol, his love, his confession, "…I knew she was in contact with Cemal of the morthwyls when I saw her fight Yvona Caratoda like him…He was teaching her, preparing her for something…Braith is indeed a special creature and precious," Ylyssus speaks reverently, "…Not because only I loved her, but because she was of Musaphat's Chosen."