This World or the Next

[Orkamaat]

Dromund Kaas
Ruined Temple


The air was heavy and stale, the sky was nowhere to be seen, and the underbrush seemed to be doing its damnedest to trip him up at every opportunity. Were he a few thousand years younger, Orkamaat might have flown into a rage right then and there, razing a swath through the jungle in front of him in a rare display of power.

His stature, thin and rangy, with bones protruding even in places where they shouldn't, belied the great strength that lay in those muscles and ligaments, however torn and mangled they appeared at first glance. The priest hadn't looked at himself in a mirror that reached farther than his shoulders for centuries, or, rather, ever since his body had been subject to the gentle hands of Shapers.

It was the only event in recent memory that had any sort of negative emotion attached to it whatsoever, and even that was borne not out of physical distress, but out of his worry about how the changes should impact his physiology and metabolism. The first few decades after being turned into the half-living monstrosity he was now had been spent furiously researching and monitoring his functions in fear of his body failing him one day, bringing a premature end to his hunt for knowledge.

And it was exactly this… noble goal that had brought the anzat into this humid netherhole today, and it was what sustained him as he pushed through the rampant flora of Dromund Kaas. Few planets could boast a history as rich as this one, but the wars that had transpired upon its surface were of little interest to the priest; no, it was the tracks of learned men that he was following, those few erudites who had done something worthwhile here between one battle and the next.

Naturally, they were damn hard to find.


[member="Khaleel Malvern"]

 

[Arage Bao]

[member="Orkamaat"]

[SIZE=10.6666666666667px]Dromund Kaas. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=10.6666666666667px]Capital of the Sith throughout the ages, and a place that held [/SIZE][SIZE=10.6666666666667px]knowledge[/SIZE][SIZE=10.6666666666667px] in spades if you knew exactly where to look. Some worlds - such as Korriban and Ziost, had been excavated into oblivion throughout the many ages that they had existed, but there was a difference with Kaas. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=10.6666666666667px]A difference that worked to his operations’ favor.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=10.6666666666667px]The difference was really simple, all the other worlds hadn’t experienced an Ice Age that had literally left the world without inhabitants and under the care of the Mandalorians. It was a perfect place for his people to explore artifacts of old, knowledge was valuable and Khaleel was not a man who wouldn’t take advantage of such a fact.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=10.6666666666667px]The weight of his body made the ancient old floor creak, this specific temple had been discovered by his men a few days ago and Khal had decided to come and explore it himself. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=10.6666666666667px]Sometimes it’s better to do things yourself, when ya needed ‘em done the right way.[/SIZE]

 

[Orkamaat]

His efforts had finally brought him through the thicket and into a small swath of lower underbrush, a redoubt amidst the ever-grasping vines. He let his old eyes soak in the peaceful quietude of the place, the wild beasts driven away from its pulsing dark aura, telling all but the most foolish of creatures to steer clear of the ancient structure.

Not him.

He smiled, still in the deep green shades of the canopy overhead, making nary a sound as he slipped between the trees, his thin frame masquerading him as little more than another swaying stalk in the myriad of colorful greenery spilling from the woods and into the dell.

The smile disappeared fast enough, for his fiery eyes soon spied a pair of figures guarding the entrance he'd been looking for, inadvertently giving away its location. That quickly became the least of Orkamaat's problems, however, for it was clearly apparent from the situation that someone had arrived to the ruin before him. How… inconvenient.

The duo of watchdogs had been obscured by the overreaching dark presence of the temple, their small presence in the Other completely drowned out by the signature of the destitute building they were protecting. An unfortunate delay, but nothing the priest couldn't deal with.

With one last glance to the twin guardians, the anzat slunk back into the shadows of the forest behind him, circling around to the widow he'd seen on the other side. With a quick dash, the thin man cleared the expanse of open field between the treeline and the sloping dark walls of the edifice, launching himself at the opening higher up with force one would never ascribe to his wiry stature. Spider-like digits grasped the ledge, tendons standing out at the backs of his hands as he upheld his negligible weight for a moment, pulling up and forward only a moment later.

Like an eel, Orkamaat disappeared through the window, slipping down the other side and into the low light of the room. Avoiding the ray of light with a swift step to the side, the anzat pressed himself bodily against the cool stone of the temple — how curious, that it maintained such a low temperature despite the sun above — and then continued onward on his path through the ruin, making a point of reaching out through the Memories permeating this place, using his innate senses to try and peel out the others surely stalking these chambers.

He was a hunter, after all, and even though he'd managed to rein in his natural bloodlust a long time ago, Orkamaat was, deep down, still a beast made for killing; if the situation called for it, he would make use of his intrinsic skills.


[member="Khaleel Malvern"]

 

[Arage Bao]

[member="Orkamaat"]

[SIZE=10.6666666666667px]The Galaxy was a strange place. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=10.6666666666667px]Few people really realized that these days though, most of them thought everything could be calculated, that all the possibilities were already narrowed down towards the very basic variables. But there were people who knew [/SIZE][SIZE=10.6666666666667px]better[/SIZE][SIZE=10.6666666666667px], who realized that the life, that the Galaxy they lived in wasn’t as quantifiable as you would assume at first glance.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=10.6666666666667px]It was a small percentage to be sure, but on a galactic-scale it were still hundreds of thousands - if not millions of sentients whose eyes had been opened to the [/SIZE][SIZE=10.6666666666667px]truth[/SIZE][SIZE=10.6666666666667px].[/SIZE]

[SIZE=10.6666666666667px]A strange and scary place to live in sometimes.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=10.6666666666667px]Perhaps Khal knew this fact better than most, his time in the Nether had given him a certain [/SIZE][SIZE=10.6666666666667px]view[/SIZE][SIZE=10.6666666666667px] on the world that few others could share - even those that had their eyes opened. Because there was a difference between reading about things, about [/SIZE][SIZE=10.6666666666667px]believing[/SIZE][SIZE=10.6666666666667px] them to be true… and actually walking it.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=10.6666666666667px]Even as the Underlord walked here amidst the history of a dead civilization something inside of him, a coiled entity shivered slightly.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=10.6666666666667px]“Home… Kally, that’s what you feel.”[/SIZE]

[SIZE=10.6666666666667px]His hand gingerly brushed a wall, feeling the [/SIZE][SIZE=10.6666666666667px]Other [/SIZE][SIZE=10.6666666666667px]touch his skin back. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=10.6666666666667px]Few people were as honored as they were.[/SIZE]

 

[Orkamaat]

The Galaxy was, indeed, a strange place.

To ghost against an entity so disparate from its physique was… a rare pleasure. Then again, Orkamaat himself was a living incarnation of that very concept. There was a sleeping power in those broken bones, an inconceivable strength in that mangled flesh… and nobody quite realized it was there until it was too late; and by then, his long, bony fingers were already cradling their head in a lover's grasp, showing them the Universe even as their energy was repurposed, put to better use in search of a greater goal.

The same fate would befall those who would seek to impede his hunt for knowledge, and if he was to stumble on such individuals in this very temple, Ork would not hesitate to strike. In his experience, people like the guards posted outside rarely had motives that reached beyond a lust for profit — and such was surely to be found in ancient temples — but the anzat held little love for their type. They were the very worst the Galaxy had to offer, living from one payment to the next, blowing what little they made on women and booze.

Despite the many ups and downs of a myriad different civilisations he had witnessed in his comparatively long existence, he had yet to see one that did not, in the end, succumb to its own debauchery. In one way or another, it was corruption and greed that always saw them plummet into the abyss of oblivion.

The best he could do was salvage what little they had learned before their fall and hope that the combined knowledge of a trillion people across a billlion of generations would finally be enough.


[member="Khaleel Malvern"]

 

[Arage Bao]

[member="Orkamaat"]

[SIZE=10.6666666666667px]We aren’t alone, Kally.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=10.6666666666667px]Khal halted his movements, his posture slightly relaxed and head tilted to the side. Almost as if he was listening to [/SIZE][SIZE=10.6666666666667px]something[/SIZE][SIZE=10.6666666666667px], something that was out of sync with the rest of the environment… something that would clarify the statement made earlier.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=10.6666666666667px]There was something buzzing against the backdrop of the temple itself, something [/SIZE][SIZE=10.6666666666667px]ancient[/SIZE][SIZE=10.6666666666667px] and that made him wonder just a little bit.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=10.6666666666667px]But he couldn’t pinpoint the location, which meant that worrying about it right now wasn’t in his best interest. Perhaps it would pop up sometime later, or perhaps it would go away on its own accord, but worrying wouldn’t change anything right there and then.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=10.6666666666667px]So he kept on walking with a little hum accompanying him.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=10.6666666666667px]Following the path of history to the [/SIZE][SIZE=10.6666666666667px]heart[/SIZE][SIZE=10.6666666666667px] of the building.[/SIZE]

 

[Orkamaat]

Drip drip drip goes the song of the water skipping against the ancient epitome of masonry, and his ears, honed by the sound of silence only the Void can produce, would hear every little trickle. Somewhere in the building, a steady — if small — stream of the vivacious, life-giving liquid was happily rolling down the cool stone of the temple, meandering along the funnels in the smooth black rock until it hit the floor.

Following this sound, for water followed gravity, and that, inevitably, lead to the core. As always, nothing but the very gist of the matter would satisfy that hole in his chest that sought more, forever and always, spurring him on even when everything else in the Universe seemed to stand still.

It was this inner momentum that pushed Orkamaat to slip down the corridors, his pace swift, yet soft, like the gait one might expect from a feline predator. True to his hunter's nature, the anzat stalked along the maze running the length and depth of the ruins with utmost care, his sense turned ever outward. Now that he had tasted of the essece of the other, the priest would have considerably less trouble finding it again, and again, and again, until he could gaze upon its visage with his own fiery eyes.


[member="Khaleel Malvern"]

 

[Arage Bao]

[SIZE=10.6666666666667px]In contrast to [member="Orkamaat"] and his predatory approach, Khaleel was not striding proudly through the temple complex with intent in his walk, but there was a hidden strength in that too. What kind of man walks casually through a ruined temple while knowing that something was stalking him, while the Darkside kept humming about around them?[/SIZE]

[SIZE=10.6666666666667px]What kind of man did that take?[/SIZE]

[SIZE=10.6666666666667px]Probably a man sick with insanity. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=10.6666666666667px]Finally the Underlord reached the inner-sanctum of the temple, his steps echoing across more than one reality - ripples of what was and what [/SIZE][SIZE=10.6666666666667px]could[/SIZE][SIZE=10.6666666666667px] be.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=10.6666666666667px]That’s what happened when you came to a focal point of the [/SIZE][SIZE=10.6666666666667px]Other[/SIZE][SIZE=10.6666666666667px], probabilities started to merge into each other and move alongside, anything and everything could happen at the same time. One could say that a whole new realm opened up, if only you were able to open your eyes and [/SIZE][SIZE=10.6666666666667px]see.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=10.6666666666667px]Beautiful.[/SIZE]

 

[Orkamaat]

However much the Underlord would like to flatter himself, the ancient creature was hardly stalking him; Orkamaat was, generally, a more stalky person. It was just the way he got around; it was in his blood, so to speak — or it would be, if he had blood in the first place — and so it would be how he would traverse the empty, long-abandoned halls of a temple whose name had been forgotten to the ebb and flow of time back when time and the priest were both still young.

With his other senses peeled, the anzat kept the odd essence always in his awareness even as he moved above it, their paths crossing more than once, yet they both kept out of sight. He couldn't help but wonder who it was that was so bravely walking down these corridors, their steps ringing across the ruined building with confidence and fearlessness.

How odd.

Still, speculation was left to those of lesser minds; he would seek him out and confront them, confront that which resided within them, and hopefully have a nice enough chat. After all, it wasn't every day that entities as old as them had a chance encounter in the jungles of Dromund Kaas, and Orkamaat, for all his transcendence of sentiment, longed — seldom, of course — to speak with someone who could grasp how that felt.

Sometimes, his state of mind wasn't even by choice; sometimes, Orkamaat felt that he was little more than an artifact of solidified time, a shard of space frozen even whilst the Galaxy kept moving on. Ever caught in the past, yet his step never faltered.

How odd, indeed.


[member="Khaleel Malvern"]

 

[Arage Bao]

[member="Orkamaat"]

There was something to be said about the growing silence. It was a creeping thing, a growing thing, from one moment to the other the little critters of the dark quiet down.

They knew what was coming- they felt it instinctively, it was in their very nature to be able to sense when a confrontation between two large beasts was coming... otherwise they wouldn't be able to hide or flee in the face of it. Otherwise they would risk the chance of being caught in the middle of it, stampeded by beings that were so far above them, that even trying to relate to their sentience was a task that led to madness.

An ant could not comprehend a human, could it?

It was much the same here, but the stakes were only higher. Khaleel Malvern, they marked him Underlord these days. The man who had taken the Ravens and the remnants of the Black Sun, before forging them into something of real consequence. An entity in the criminal underworld that people feared, that people wished to join and be protected by.

They called it the Exchange.

But today was not a day of the Exchange, it was not a day for the Underlord or any other names the criminal villainy called him by, no, today was not a day of petty crime. Today was the day of understanding, to learn and master and study that which had been tethered to him all those years ago- a decade... though it felt longer.

He's here. The voice whispered at the back of his head and Khal nodded. At this point he had left his coat behind, the shirt unbuttoned and discarded next to him. His body was in constant motion; not the physical kind, but the spiritual one with markings moving and twisting and contorting behind his skin in thick expressions.

He was kneeling before a wall. The wall. It, too, carried markings. Though these did not move, so much as they glowed- shone in the shimmering dark and beckoned.

Khal knew what this was, the whisper had trusted its secret with him.

I know. Malvern whispered back, while waiting for the Anzati to progress into the sanctum proper.

 

[Orkamaat]

Soft-spoken, and light of feet. The beast was already here, in all his understated glory. Meat sought to flee from its bony tethers, but the Priest contained himself by sheer will. Anzat and Vong vying with each other, making every day a wicked struggle to rule his insubordinate flesh.

But not his mind. His mind always was, and would be, his own. When he’d only set foot on the humid planet, his thoughts were already here. Light-years ahead of a tired body, a vessel far outworn its welcome. Someday soon, he might find another.

“What are you doing here, Otherbeast?”

With a clear voice, a thin figure addressed the kneeling man. What a picture they must make. What a vessel he might make.

A critical, flame-colored eye scrutinized the prostrate silhouette against the glowing wall. He was young, and strong. His seed had kissed the womb of [member="Loxa Visl"], but his mind had not kissed hers, not like Orkamaat had. Untainted.

The shimmering creature clinging to his back was fat, and spoiled, leering at the Priest with its cold, cold sockets. Like looking straight into Netherworld.

Do you need help in returning home?

For the first time, the follower of Balagoth gestured towards the morphing mural, glinting in the dark. Few were those that could read the ever-changing symbols, and fewer still were those among them who could do so and not go mad.

[member="Khaleel Malvern"]

 

[Arage Bao]

[member="Orkamaat"]

It was almost unnatural how the man cocker his head. Too abrupt, too clinical and random, like there was somethint ushering him on but that something wasn't yet completely confident in its direction. There was a wry amusement in the air, you could almost taste it in the air. It tasted of... cinnamon and just a mild slice of weary patience.

"Need? No." It was his voice, but it was warmer. More comfortable now than it ever was before, but when you had an onlooker who approached your range of age... well, things were easier, more understood and less prone to mistakes of pride.

"Want? Undoubtedly."

The man, the walker, he reached out towards the glyphs and the closer his tips came, the brighter the lights shone. Then his skin touched the dusty 'crete and the softening hum of light dimmed for a moment or so.

"I haven't walked amidst my kind for relative ages..." For time was truly relative for those like them. A century could unfold itself in the span of a whisper, whilst a mere second would span and expand itself to an eternity. It all depended on the perspectives of those onlookers, in his humble experience. "Would you care to join us? The experience will be most enlightening, truly."

 

[Orkamaat]

He made to smile, but there wasn’t much skin left to stretch over those exhausted bones. As the light from the glyphs grew brighter, so did the flesh peel away. Mortality and years rushed in, punch-gut. If he had breath in his lungs, it would’ve rushed out harsh and fast.

“Indubitably. I’ve been here before.”

And it was here, already. Much like the meat and the sinew, the temple was melting away. The rock, sturdy and ancient, swept into the darkness in a whirlwind of debris. The Netherworld reached out with greedy claws, and everything eroded in its grasp. Even the Endless.

And so [member="Khaleel Malvern"], his demon, and the wretched Priest were dragged through. The howling winds quieted, and the trio stood now on a tapestry of stars. Stretching every which way, far as his fiery eyes could see.

The vestibule. How quaint.

“Ages, indeed. We seem to have stopped a ways short.” If Orkamaat meant to offend the Other, his voice remained neutral for it. With the perennial grin of a skull, he offered his long carpals to the curious pair.

“Walk with me?”

This time, expression did bleed into his words. Amusement, and knowing.

 

[Arage Bao]

[member="Orkamaat"]

Hoarse laughter like wind rattling against broken teeth came.

And went.

Yet the mouth did not move to accommodate such sound. There was the iron-willed patience forged by millenia behind the knees bending and stretching to stand. Their footsteps, as light and careful and silent as they were, made small indents into then space beneath it. Little ripples, little waves and little stars ushering forward every step taken. One must walk with clarity of thought and patience in the Antechamber, this the walker and his companion knew intently.

"Many things are like... hmm... how is it they say? Riding a speeder?" Brows inadvertently furrowed in thought for a moment to contemplate the sentence. "Sadly, this is not."

They walked. They were cautious for many reasons, chief of them the presence of others. Entities that dwarfed them to ants, even with all their experience and years. He could see them, then, some were sleeping right undernewth them. To step forlorn and with contempt was to risk waking them.

"How are They who sprung from my seed and She who carried, well, I presume? "

 

[Orkamaat]

“No,” he acquiesced with a rueful shake of the head. “It is not.” How could it be, really? The passage between worlds and realities was no simple matter, regardless of how many times one had successfully completed the perilous journey. It was a path riddled with treacherous traps, bottomless holes in the thin and frail fabric that tethered everything together. Even for entities as experienced as the Walker and the Priest, a single misstep could result in an eternity in limbo.

Orkamaat grew rigid at the thought of his worst fear. If that fate ever befell him, he would be doomed to never reconcile with that which he sought his whole life. After nameless millennia of exploration and wonder, of promises and whispers of peace, he would be caged mere breaths away from his goal.

That was true suffering. To never know Balagoth.

Twisting his neck to an unnatural degree, the wretched man regarded his unlikely travelling companion. “They evolve with each passing day. Others fear the void of space, but our offspring embrace it. Thrive in it.”

Orkamaat smiled, an expression truly alien to the sickly parchment of his skin. A bit further, and it might rip and crack. “The Child-prophet will soon grow bloated of her vessel, I fear.” Though ‘soon’ was, perhaps, a different measure of time to him and [member="Khaleel Malvern"].

“But enough of this idle chatter,” he lifted his voice and straightened his hunching, spiked back. “We should proceed.”

It was unwise to dally in these gray worlds for too long. Things best left slumbering might grow restless with their presence.

 

[Arage Bao]

[member="Orkamaat"]

A nod followed - it wasn't born out of satisfaction or pleasure, simply acceptance of the fact. In truth he cared little if they succeeded or not, they either would or would not.

It affected him little.

"Yes, let's." They walked and walked, until Malvern suddenly halted in his tracks. For a moment he did nothing, just stand there with a raised eyebrow that was raised a touch too much. Until he turned on his heels and faced the left most side of their path, there was nothing there, but the stars in the distance... or was there?

"I don't remember this." His hand reached out and mist started to lazily drift upwards from which they were standing on. It drifted and raised itself, until it suddenly just disappeared. "Do you see what I see?"

A doorway, but to where? It seemed so familiar to him.

 

[Orkamaat]

The song of annihilation colored the air around them as the pair strode purposefully into nowhere. For a new visitor to the realm, the lack of sensory feedback would have been disconcerting. There was no cold to bite the flesh, no smells to thrill the palate. No sounds of their heavy steps to echo in their ears. This was a place between places, with no laws or rules to govern its limits.

Orkamaat had long suspected that organs yet undeveloped would allow proper interaction with the tasteless limbo. Even the strokes of the Other failed to enlighten the Priest, purely because they were everywhere.

Woven out its pulsing strands, this slice of existence lived and breathed on its own. Younger things would’ve called it the Force, but he’d never much cared for the word. It felt too violent for such a passive thing.

Making out a white door in a room painted wholly white was… difficult, but not impossible. Especially to eyes as keen as those of the Priest and the Walker.

Eyeing the demon and his host, Orkamaat calmly pushed a bony hand through one of the holes in his stomach. In the disquieting absence of any wet squelching, he retrieved one of the Vong outgrowths, slick with black tar. Still throbbing in the spider’s grasp, he lifted it closer to the dispersing mists, and squeezed.

The method was robust; barbaric, even. But it would still the transient gateway long enough that they could pass on through.

[member="Khaleel Malvern"]

 

[Arage Bao]

[member="Orkamaat"]

Now that was an unorthodox solution to their little problem.

An inclination of the head followed as a form of acknowledgement for the service provided. Piece by piece the knowledge was returning to him- something about the approximation of the void, the subtle shudder of movement under their feet and the presence of another ancient soul, that stirred old memories.

After Ork retracted his limb the walker walked the walk, one step forward, two steps forward, until his nose almost touched the shimmering vortex slowly seeping into this non-reality.

His index finger vanished in the shimmering. It was important to first test out where they were going, because otherwise they could appear anywhere. The stomach of primordial flying whale, an universe made out of eternal fire or the bedroom of one Ariadne during her time of feasting... none of them were safe environments to find yourself in.

"Oh... you will like this..." And then Malvern vanished into the shimmering.

Presumably Ork would follow suit and the first thing he would notice was the feeling of vast urbanization, but one unlike anything else.

 

[Orkamaat]

And notice he did. Oh, did he ever.

“Ah. It’s been a while.”

Now, at this juncture, the reader might stop and ask ‘Has this guy really been everywhere?’. Their voice will likely carry a tone of incredulousness, if not outright disbelief. Still, the author will offer but a sage nod. She will then produce the timeline chart for Orkamaat* and proceed to unfold it. Somewhere around page twenty, most skeptics will back off, deciding that the full harangue just isn’t worth it. But for the hardcore history nazis, there are also the drexl leather-bound lexicon (glossary included), a parchment map, and a compass. To help navigate the vast and oft frightening lands of forgotten annals, you understand.

The Priest cleared his throat and shoved the pulsating mass back into his stomach.

“Have you anything to trade?”

It wasn’t an official fee in the strictest sense. Any traveler to this nameless realm would receive the same advice, however: do not arrive empty-handed. The keepers of this slice of space were not among the kindest entities that haunted undead halls. Perceived slights could land the careless visitor in a thousand-year servitude to their whims.

Not exactly the ideal vacation. Orkamaat frowned as he leveled [member="Khaleel Malvern"] with a piercing stare. Of course, the Walker demon could have been planning on trading him. It was an option, and a plausible one at that. His kind weren’t exactly known for their trustworthiness.

The line of his lips thinned even further.

“I urge you against any… foolish entrepreneurial ventures, Walker.”

Every syllable uttered with perfect enunciation. That did not bode well for any who would attempt to cross him.


*Also known as the Priest, Tharakesh, Atra-Hassis, Chord of Misery, and to the most ancient of souls, Leaper demon.

 

[Arage Bao]

[member="Orkamaat"]

He breathed in. Heavily. The smoke and mist of the air was drenched in that particular fragrance that was exclusive to this place. It smelled of sickly sweet vinegar and bitter marmalade, a taste of tears was almost on his tongue already and they hadn't even sampled the finest cuisine on offer.

That was why this realm, nameless to most, but known to few, was his favorite.

You could find anything here, as long as you had something to buy it with in the first place. Which was exactly what was on Ork's mind right about now. Not surprising, of course, few if any truly had any faith or trust in those like him.

Complete deserved in most cases, he might add.

"Peace, Leaper." A gesture was made to follow him. They walked out of the thin ashy alleyway and entered the body of the 'city' almost instantaneously. A vehicle of sorts rushed them by- strange one, it trailed red liquid on the porous streets and while it had been too fast to get a proper look... it looked like it had been made out of flesh.

"I carry my payment with me always."

That same arm rose once again. Black marks running and coiling under his skin and you almost got the sense they were alive somehow.