Mortal Beings are not Forever ((PAFP, Advanced))

In this world death wasn’t the same as it was in others. To put it simply everything could live forever if undisturbed. Animals only died if hunted, humans only died if killed. Sickness was the second biggest killer in the world.
But it took fewer lives every year then the Morte took in a day.

Morte were essentially angels of death, grim reapers, whatever you wanted to call them. They were created by a higher being that none knew beyond the Morte. Their only knowledge was to follow orders, like machines.
And like machines Morte were soulless.

Only beings with a soul had free will, the ability to think on their own. The ability to feel pain and the ability to think and make decisions. All humans and animals had souls, no matter what stories may say. It was impossible for a human to be born without a soul; if they ever had then they were dead. They’d never had consciousness and the Morte took them away as soon as possible.
Without a soul it was impossible to be counted as human, or anything like it. Beings without souls imply followed orders and never made mention of it.
They were like machines, ones who did nothing that could be considered sidetracking.

While it was impossible to be born without a soul if human it was possible to give a soulless being, like a Morte, a soul. It was ill advised though, as a being made to kill it wouldn’t do well for them to have emotions like regret or guilt.

But machines could be flawed. If something went wrong, someone refusing to give up their life like is intended, then the Morte essentially shut down. They didn’t know what to do when someone went against their code.
But a being with a soul could think beyond that, if something went against what should happen they simply adapted, changed their strategy.

The first Morte to have a soul ha gotten too close to humans and refused to do its duty. It was put down immediately.
The second, however, was brought up the same way as any other Morte, had been taught to fight off emotions and only do what was needed.
This one got a name, Irko.

The thing about Morte is that they never looked human, not completely. They had a human shape, sure but they also looked like animals. Some had dog-ears that stood too high, a muzzle of a cat, a humanized rat body.
Irko had feathers. His hair, long and silver down to the mid back, was dotted with bright feathers. They were practically just other pieces of hair to him.
The feathers also dotted his body, though were usually hidden by clothing. They lay up his arms and down his legs, they dotted all over.

People had begun to realize what the silver feathers meant. They often fell from the Morte’s hair and people learnt that that meant the Morte was in their home town/city/village.
The feathers fell and people were scared.

Missions were simple, given a list of who’s life was finished and he took a small group to deal with it. Irko rarely did anything himself, he was only there to make sure the rest didn’t falter from some unseen problem.
Like today, a man had refused to just let them do their job, so with a flick of his wrist Irko set the man ablaze.
Magic as much simpler then brute force to him.

On the return journey silver feathers fluttered behind them as they walked. It wasn’t an uncommon sight; people simply knew to keep away now.

The tall cliffs that wall parallel to them were hardly worth a thought, until a sight caught the violet-eyed Morte. The second he stopped so did the rest behind him. He was allowed to do what he wished as long as he completed his task.
With a wave of his hand he signaled the others to continue home as he walked from the path.

In a small dug out side of the cliff a human lay with a hand pressed to their side. They were injured.
With silent steps the tall creature only stopped when in front of the bleeding human. They’d completed the list so no human should be left to take, but this one was sure to die if nothing happened.

Crouching down to their level, a few feathers fluttering around them, Irko only faintly noticed their glare.
“You do not seem in the best health. Would you like some help?” They knew who he was, that look proved it.

((Ahhhhh, sorry for the length. Do not track to not reply.
You can just jump in, with whatever kind of character you want, friend!
I’m happy to answer any questions you may have! I hope you have fun!))

((Thanks for even showing interest friend! But no, the Morte do not live among the humans, they just sort of go where they're needed or find a place and never leave until commanded.
Don't even worry about inactivity. Science fair sounds pretty sweet, we don't do those here. I hope you do well!
I have seen it, but it was a long time ago, I barely remember anything but the basics of the show. It was a pretty good show, too bad I haven't re-watched it))

((Not a problem at all!
Well that sucks, I hope it goes over well, not to stressful and all that. Not too fun when stress it gripping you.
Don’t even worry, I’m the same, sometimes I just cant shut up about some stupid show I’m watching.))

Irko wasn’t keen on blood. Not because of the smell, or the way it looked or even how it felt. He hated it because it stained. Morte weren’t vicious, yes they took lives but they always did it in the calmest nature they god. Ignoring when they were tested and Irko set people ablaze.
They took away life of people their master deemed ended. People who were counted as living too long. Most deaths were clean and quick. A snap of the neck, a quick heart stopping shock or something of the like.

Morte weren’t programmed to cause unneeded harm. Irko could only do it, not that he did, because he had a soul.

Blood stained the skin of the other Morte, most of them, if given a human face, were pale like porcelain dolls. Hollow like one too. They cared little for the way blood could splatter over their pretty little faces.
Irko wasn’t keen on being drenched in blood, a disgusting thought.

This human, they weren’t on the list. They weren’t meant to die as far as he could tell. Their list for the day had been completed. Their master never over looked anything, so why leave a human bleeding out on their path home?

With only the tilt of his head the Morte didn’t respond to her words, though the small look he gave her showed he understood her words. That was more then anyone could say when talking to one of them.
Magic was something he was well versed in; again only beings with a soul could use it. Magic came from the soul; emotions were needed to cast a spell.

Leaning over her a bit, to inspect the damage that had been caused, Irko cared little for the way his hair fell over his eyes. Seeing was just one sense after all, it wouldn’t be hard to figure it out without it.
While force wasn’t his way he did grip her bloodied hand with his own pale ones, the way he held it showed he really wasn’t keen to touch it, and moved it away.

Flicking his hair back behind his shoulder he gripped one of the loose feathers in his hair and yanked it out. For a moment he held it between his fingers, this girl better appreciate what he was doing.
Soon the bright silver was engulfed in a bright flame, a flame that stayed steady in the Morte’s hand.

The accent she had, a traveller? The people of the closest town didn’t share the tone. Orr maybe she was from that town, a foreigner. All completely possible.
Irko knew he could think freely, if this is what he wanted to do he could do it. But why? Helping her was completely illogical. He’d get nothing from it.

“If I were here to take your soul,” his eyes only flicked to her once as the flame got brighter, “why would I have asked if you needed assistance?” He seemed unaffected by the way she had spat.
“You were not part of the list,” he mentions as the flame grows larger, “and from what I gather, beings with souls often feel sympathy, or the want and need to help others.”

The way he spoke really showed how he’d grown. Indeed the voice of a man, sure a bit feminine, but it was cold, in the same way the Morte always were. He did he job and that was all that was really needed.

With a small flick of his wrist the burning fire disappeared into his hand. For a moment he said nothing before he reopened his fist and the flame was replaced with a light.
His magic was mostly for offense, fire and the like, but in case of emergency he had been taught the basics of healing spells.

A blue feather fell from his palm when he moved his hand to her wound. A feather burned by fire reborn into blue. In a way Irko found it horribly poetic what his powers could do.
But the cold look didn’t portray this.

His pale hand pressed to her bloody side, his eyes narrowing slightly at the horrible feel between his fingers. He’d have to fix that later. It was a bad wound, so it didn’t disappear quickly like small cuts could.
“Would you mind telling me how you got this?” Irko questioned, eyes never once leaving the slowly closing wound.

((Haha, thanks, friend. Same here, I’m always willing to listen to a rant or two.))

Humans confused Irko in the oddest ways. Indeed they had free will, being soulful beings, but they used that free will in odd ways. Attacking each other with words and weapons, stealing, lying, and cheating. It was all off to him, why waist a finite life with such stupid and terrible actions?

Because of this humans couldn’t trust each other, nor did they trust things they assumed they would never understand. She didn’t trust him, for instance, she tensed and seemed to want to leave. Emotionless or not he was sure the other dolls would be able to sense this sort of discomfort.
To Irko it mattered little, he knew that he’d rather a long discomfort to be healed rather then be comfortable but dying.
Though, in a way, wasn’t what the Morte did the same? Making people feel one or the other before their inevitable death.
Maybe if he understood humans better he’d be able to say if that was sad or not.

Laughter, she was laughing? How odd, but the tone, he recognized that tone, it showed that she wasn’t really on his side when it came to truths. Irko could only hum, in question or otherwise was up for debate.
“That would be cruel, yes? Cruelty is not what the Morte were made for, that is why collections are done as neatly as possible.” He knew the way he spoke seemed contradictory to what he’d said, cruelty and neatness, but he wasn’t sure how to inflict emotion into words.
“Besides,” Irko gave her a small glance, something odd flickering around, “Morte aren’t programmed to do such things.”

Irko liked his hair; it was soft and had a lovely colour. Length was hardly an issue, he liked that it curled around his back, or fell over his face in a lovely manner. The only thing he didn’t like was the way the feathers worked. Indeed he lost a lot of them, they grew quicker then they fell after all, but every one he lost he could feel. If it wasn’t completely dead then it’d still hold some of his magic. That simply meant that it could be quite the danger if someone decided to pick it up.

With a hum, kinder then the ones before it, Irko pulled his head to look at her better. Not saying anything for a moment he thought, he understood humans well enough on a surface level but anything beyond the knowledge of a meaning was lost on him.
“Human’s truly are the best use of a soul, I suppose. Quite the wide range of emotions and wishes, hmm?” Turning back to his work he seemed to hardly notice the way more feathers fell from his hair.
“’Creatures with souls.” He laughed lightly, shaking his head to remove the hair from his face. “Such as you and I?”

“Most of the dolls don’t, well, none of them save me. You can only tell them to do so much and when something is out of their knowledge what can they do? A soul gives free will, the ability to think beyond orders.”
“They feel nothing over what they’ve done because they can’t. I can, I remember and I could feel. I’ve been raised as them, no need for emotions.” The way he said the final words were almost remorseful. It was like he regretted that.
In a way, maybe he did.

Fire never felt bad in his hands. While many saw horror and destruction in his palm what he saw was a light of rebirth, warmth and comfort. Indeed he understood that was not the thought of many, but he indeed saw it like that.

He smiled at her sarcasm, it was refreshing to see. He spent all his time with soulless dolls, finding a creature willing to have a spat at him was interesting.
“Indeed, yes, a list. Though I hardly like to think of it in such a horrible manner. The collection is not for fun, mind you, we do it because we must.” The light in his hand was cold. He’d always leant that healing magic was kind and warm.
Maybe being a Morte changed the properties of magic?

“You see collection as murder. But nothing should be allowed to live forever. Life has a limit, only a number of resources.” Shaking his head he tried to focus on talking rather then the cold heal in his hand.
“Humans die two ways, with us or by outside force. But an outside force doesn’t allow a human to be reborn. If we take a soul we wait for a long while before we return it to a new body.”
This time he didn’t seem to mind as the hair covered his eyes, he was more then happy to not see her eyes. “If I chose what I did I may not have chosen this.”

Irko thought for a moment, hand almost pausing. He honestly wasn’t sure who created the list; they just did their creators bidding with no questions asked.
“I am unsure of the exacts but I know that our creator has the most say on who is placed on it.” Maybe he shouldn’t be speaking this openly about it. Though if any other doll were there they’d simply say something like, ‘classified information.’
Irko was glad to have a soul.

His eyes flicked to her for a second when she gasped; almost thinking he’d cast the wrong spell upon his palm. But she seemed fine so he continued with little hesitance. He’d never had a wound this deep and it was never an issue to fix other Morte. Because they were simply thrown away on the wind.

Pulling back when he was done he didn’t interrupt her explanation. As always humans confused him with their need to harm each other. The tax of a soul, he supposed. He still wasn’t too keen for the blood that soaked his hand, he could clean it soon but that didn’t mean he was keen on it.
“Apologies for your situation.” He gave her a small nod, his clean hand resting on his knee, “Sometimes free will creates problems.” It was simply an offhanded note.

Moving his hand from his knee to his hair the Morte brushed through it lightly, sighing in what seemed like content. “Would you like any help home? It would not do well for someone only recently healed to be on their own.”

Pretty porcelain dolls, that’s all the other Morte were to him. They dangled on strings like puppets or sat and simply looked nice. He had indeed been raised around them and he would admit that sometimes it felt like they were made for little more then watching. Their eyes never held any emotion and it made him uneasy.
The only time it seemed like they were alive was when on a mission or when they watched him. Some turned their heads to watch him as he moved others only followed with their eyes until he was out of sight.

He assumed it was because they had to. Watch the one that could defect, watch the one that could feel and think.

One thing, another thing, he didn’t understand was the need for Morte to be animalistic. Sure he got off lucky with being a bird but there were Morte with faces of rats or hands like a dogs paw. Sure his feathers were used mostly for magic but they didn’t have souls, so they couldn’t use it.
Why then? Why make them less human? Make them something that humans would be more likely scared of?
Maybe it was simply to dehumanize them. They weren’t considered human in the least by most.

Being with a soul meant free will and thinking, pain and the like, but it also meant he understood. He understood on a very low level why humans were scared. He understood what they were doing was considered horrible in the eyes of humans. But Irko wasn’t so knowledgeable that he knew what to do, or why it impacted them so heavily. To him it was death, that was it.
But to humans it seemed to be an end. An end? Irko wasn’t sure why death was an end, maybe it was simply because he was a Morte, a being made for death, but he saw no reason to fear death.

Irko never questioned what he did, what reason would he have to do that? It was his life and he’d do his job. But sometimes he did wonder why they were doing it. Why do it this way?
It wasn’t his place to ask. He knew he was valuable in some sense, so he wouldn’t be scrapped immediately, but he could still be harshly punished for questioning something so simple. Their master was kind in most sense of the word, but he didn’t tolerate such things.

Was he guilty? Did he feel guilt? Irko didn’t know. He didn’t know what guilt felt like, but he knew it wasn’t something he was supposed to feel. He was only made to think beyond the others, not to question anything.
Would he still do it if he could feel? Could he feel? He’d spent so long trained not to feel anything so was he still capable of such a thing? He didn’t know.
Irko really didn’t know a lot when it all came down.

Irko tilted his head as she touched the healed wound, did she not trust that it was okay? He wasn’t sure. He didn’t bring it up, no real reason to. He hadn’t gotten rid of it completely; there was still a faint scar where it was. He was sure she could probably still feel it that was the trouble with healing magic performed by someone not made for it.
Yes it healed but there always was the possibility of scars and soreness. She didn’t seem to be in pain so maybe she hadn’t gotten the soreness. But he was made for offense so…

The sky was a nice colour tonight, he thought. Twilight always had such a nice sky, not that he got to appreciate it much. Maybe it was just the more animal like side that liked the sky, being a bird and all, but it always looked lovely. The air always felt nice against his skin and it usually brought quite a calming stage with it.
Irko assumed it was calm; he wasn’t sure what counted as being calm.

Nodding slowly at her acceptance of his offer Irko actually looked confused by her second set of words. Why was she thanking him? This didn’t seem like the sort of thing to be thanked for.
“Indeed, I’ll be content to lend a hand.” For a moment he didn’t say anything, making a face that showed he was thinking. “You needn’t thank me. You say it as if it was something I could have done by choice. But is it not simply right to help someone who is injured? No thought really needed.”
Irko couldn’t understand humans, they were odd. Their souls must have been different to his if this is how they reacted to such a situation.

Following her lead the silver haired Morte pushed himself to stand. He was a bit hesitant to touch his hair with bloodied hands but he did so anyway, trying very hard not to stain the pristine feathers. He wouldn’t do anything unless she asked or she was struggling, so for now he decided that he’d let her try to walk on her own.
If the blood beneath them was anything to go by then she had lost quite the bit and would probably still be a bit weak. Humans needed their blood after all.

“A name?” What an odd thing to ask. “Indeed I do.” Nodding at her introduction he bowed lightly, the same way he did for his master. “It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Evaleen. I am Irko.” Pulling himself from the bow he stood tall again.
“It’d be best to get moving, the night doesn’t always promise kind things.”
Gesturing for her to follow he began to walk, steps just as quiet as before. “Are you alright to walk?”

((Ah, yeah. I am, but I’m getting better rather quickly. Thanks for the kind words!))

Was it right for him to have a view of a race and world that he technically didn’t belong to? Was it right to judge humans for things they do when he hardly understood their motives? Maybe not, but then again, humans did the same thing to each other, didn’t they?
Was he really much different when it came down to things?
Or was he simply thinking of things in an idealistic and childish way? It was hard to tell when he was given such limited knowledge of most things.

Her question, more so a statement, caught him almost off guard. Naïve? Probably, yet he still felt as though it wasn’t right to hear. Truths must be spoken in harsher tones sometimes he found.
Again his head tilted back and forth, as if it would help him understand. In some ways it did, it helped him size up his assumptions and sort his thoughts out.
Then again he did the same sort of thing with his feathered hair. Splaying his fingers through the silvery locks in a form to calm himself and let the thoughts run wild.

“I suppose you are correct, though I’d also guess that humans have less of an idea about themselves as some?” The way he phrased it was odd but the look he gave her helped communicate his meaning.
“Humans preach the want of happiness and equality, yet they fight harder when they want that peace…” Humming lightly once more he looked back to his hair. “I suppose it simply comes from everyone having a different view of peace, yes? The only way for ones view to be superior is to destroy all that are against it…”

Her name was nice, he supposed, as nice as a name could be. He understood the use for names, it gave people individuality, and made them easier to find. Besides, it’s easy to call for a name then wonder for hours to look for your friend, yes?

“I suppose it can be a pleasure for the both of us.” Again his head was tilted, but the small smile on his face gave it a bit more character then a simple tilt. It was both wrong and right to call him a child. He had the mannerisms and knowledge of an adult, but the understanding and naivety of a child. Both a good and bad balance.
Considering he was a Morte how childlike could you call him? Not to long ago he’d had a man dead at his feet. Though not knowing he was a Morte ‘killed a man’ wouldn’t be someone’s first thought of him.
Maybe ‘rich boy’.

Nodding slowly the Morte turned to walk. “Do not be afraid to ask for help, if I have yet to fully heal you I will try once more to help.” No matter the terrain Irko always found ease in walking, whether it be up or down or straight ahead. It wasn’t hard to keep ones balance when they had the ability of a bird, light steps and quick movement.
If he were to fall he was certain he’d catch himself long before he hit the ground.

As if guiding her the feathers that fell from his hair as he walked made a trail behind him. Maybe it wouldn’t do well for his feathers to be trailing away from a pool of blood but he didn’t like to think of those negative points.
Besides, he wasn’t the only bird to have silver feathers. Maybe they’d assume a bird of prey caught something. If only being wishful.

No matter how ill intent the dark night brought he was sure he could describe in many ways how beautiful it was. Maybe it was just his soul yearning for some sort of emotion but he was certain what he felt was awe. Was it wrong to keep a soul from feeling? A soul was meant to grant feeling and thought, so stopping it from doing that could be bad right?
Irko chose to not dwell on it.

The stars though, they always had an amazing shimmer, always looked ready to light the sky for those without a roof over their head. The others were dolls; the lights of the sky meant nothing beyond a brief navigation. One star meant so-and-so and they’d be off. It was sad they never got much of a chance to watch things; from the night to the day it was work and travel.

The cold air was also brilliant, he preferred the cold to the heat, not that he could tell much of a difference. No matter the temperature he was expected to do his work all the same. But Irko did find he enjoyed places that were cold, or even snowed, much more then the hotter places.

Stopping at the end of the path he turned back to look at her, that owl-like tilt to his head back once more. Maybe if she didn’t know better she could confuse his bright violet eyes for some kind preying night bird.
“Are you alright? It doesn’t seem all too far now, Evaleen.” Turning his head as if to direct her attention he waited for her to catch up. “Hardly a troublesome walk I assume.”

((hey now, don’t even worry about it. I get what you mean; it’s been a bit hectic for me too. School can be a drag at time. But basketballs cool, hope you’re doing well with it!))

Right and wrong were such odd thoughts, who was to say what was wrong and what was right? Indeed it deepened on ones upbringing but what could be counted as right or wrong by all. To some what he’d done may be considered right, he assumed it was, but to others they may see it as going out of his way, doing something that really meant nothing.
Maybe it was worth nothing, she’d die one day. More then likely he’d be the one to come and take her soul. Would they remember each other then? Would it be right to do such a thing?

These thoughts really made him wonder, never once did he think what he did was wrong. But when he thought it over in such a way he wasn’t certain it was entirely right either. Maybe there wasn’t any real balance to what he did, it was just a cycle after all, one that had to continue.

Irko was a bird, visually pretty and fairly free with his life. But he was as fragile as one, he’d seen other Morte break bones and they’d been put down without a second thought. They were animals; some would never recover from such an injury.
Were his bones as easily broken as a birds?
Was he as replicable as the others?
He assumed he was. Nothing but his soul made him nay different.

“That is good, it would not do you well to be straining yourself on such terrain.” Following the direction she pointed to the Morte blinked slowly. Indeed they weren’t too far but he wasn’t too keen on the walk. He didn’t know the area well enough to know what to watch out for. More so for her sake then his own.
“Alright, be sure to speak up if you are having any troubles, Evaleen.” Was it worry? No he didn’t think it was. He wasn’t supposed to feel worry. It was just common sense to be wary, right?
Though he knew wariness to come from fear rather then someone’s injury. Again he only knew of such a thing by watching the people, they always looked wary when they spotted the group.

The rest of the walk she was in the lead, the best bet he was sure. The land was both familiar and foreign. He’d probably been around the area before, one time or another, but never had he taken in anything. The place seemed nice enough; plants or other things didn’t overcrowd it. No manmade structures to distrust the natural peace. It was truly a nice thing.
Maybe it was a dull thought, to think a simple thing like this as nice. Maybe he needed to learn what counted as dull.

Irko had never entered a town without others, never been a need to, so it was an odd experience to be in such a place with only her. What would he say when he returned home? They may not question him, he’d spent days away before, as long as he got his job done he was free to do as he wished.
He was thankful that he could see, despite how little there was to see. For him it was odd to feel a peace over a settlement when he was around. It put him on edge.
His eyes only glanced to her when she crouched, his mind preferring the look of the nice little town. It gave a very peaceful vibe, though he was unsure how truthful that was. Maybe this town was full of drunks and warring men. Or maybe he could be right in his assumption, the people kind enough and their places peaceful. Was that a naïve thought?
Tensing up at the loud creak Irko let his head turn back to her, obviously not likening the loud sound. For one it was simply unpleasant and secondly who knows what people would look out to wonder what the noise was.

He didn’t move from his place outside, quite liking the cold air on his skin. Though he couldn’t help but be painfully aware of the dried blood on his hands and in his hair. The way the strands stuck together felt disgusting, like thick clumps that he could feel. He counted himself lucky for not having wet blood dry, which felt horrible.
Last time he had stuff like this in his hair he had to cut it out. His hair was essentially the only thing that was his, so he was terribly crushed to have to cut it.

When she spoke Irko hummed lightly and turned his gaze back to her. Again she thanked him despite his multiple denials. It was a human thing, he supposed, they were the most stubborn creatures he’d ever met.
“It was not a problem, my pleasure really.” That’s what he eventually came to, knowing there was no point in refuting her thanks. He still found it unneeded.

Again his head tilted, blinking at her slowly. While he wasn’t inclined to agree to having things offered to him, he couldn’t help but be horrible aware of the way the blood felt between his hands. Besides, if he cleaned his hair here he wouldn’t need to return home until he was needed.
That thought alone sold him.
“I’d be appreciative,” for a moment he hesitated, unsure if he should speak again, “I thank you for your offer.” Bowing his head Irko looked away for a moment, visibly contemplating something.

“Would it be rude of me to ask a favour? While it is easy to clean blood from my hands it is quite difficult to clean it from my hair. If you wouldn’t mind could you possibly help me with this? The newer feathers are the biggest problem, really.”
It was true, with how the blood got onto even some of the higher parts of his hair, that he’d need assistance.
“Apologies for asking such a thing of you.”

In a way it was the weirdest and most normal thing he’d done. Being in her home was weird, he was a Morte, they didn’t usually enter a home unless absolutely necessary. Even then he hated doing it, their homes were supposed to be a safe place and they were disrupting that.
Though he wasn’t sure if hate was the right word, things like that were still very hard to understand. He k new he wasn’t keen on doing it but was hate the right emotion to link to it?

But it was also fairly normal in context. Two people being in ones home together were pretty normal for humans. In a human’s view it was probably the most normal thing he could have ever done. But for a Morte it was quite honestly one of the things that happened only in the rarest of times.
Was he really as naïve as she claimed he was?
Probably, he decided.

Biting his lip gently the Morte once again hesitated before doing what she said. He was made to follow orders, so why was stuff like this the bane of his existence?
Pushing that away he still felt extremely out of place in her home. For one thing he wasn’t the most normal looking thing, so he stood out quite a bit.

“Thank you, it truly helps.” Nodding his head slightly Irko glanced back at the closed door. He knew very little when it came to how humans reacted to most things, wouldn’t people be curious as to why she’d come home so late?
What if someone came to check on her? Or if someone else returned for the night? He was certain no one would be too keen on finding a Morte there, it’s not like they could pass him off as a foreigner.
Maybe a doll if he was especially still.

With an almost off sounding breath the Morte followed her as she’d instructed. He would admit that he was curious as to what her home looked like, it didn’t seem like something too interesting.
Returning her look when she glanced back at him the bird-like Morte tilted his head again. He knew he’d have to pick up the feathers that had fallen from his hair when they were done. The wash would probably knock even more of them out, they’d be wet and gross but they’d have to be moved.

Stopping when Eva entered the room Irko looked around from where he was, once more he didn’t do a thing without being given the okay first. Just something that had been drilled into him, doing something he hadn’t been given permission to do was worth a hefty punishment. Still made him freeze at the mere mention of one.

“Simple but nice, if I may say.” It was more elaborate then anything he had, anyway. His room was just a simple room with a place to sleep, nothing more was needed. Too many distractions could make it difficult to do his job; he got enough entertainment with the wildlife he got to see daily.
“Nice, indeed.” That was more of a mumble to himself then anything.

Again he watched her with the slight tilt to his head. He knew her clothes were bloodstained so they’d need to be washed, but he didn’t understand the need for setting out clothes early.
To be fair he was fairly clean of blood, save his hands and hair. But again he only really got two or so different clothes to wear. It was usually wash your clothes and body at the same time, maximize productivity and all that.

“Of course, thank you once more Evaleen.” Blinking slowly Irko watched her toss the bottle and catch it, what an odd thing to do.
“Ah…right.” He didn’t fully understand, when he washed his hair he was usually stuck just trying to scrub out anything that was in there by hand. This seemed more complicated then needed.

Sitting on the edge Irko looked to her again, but quickly averted his gaze as he tried to think of what he wanted to say. It was hard to articulate thoughts into speech, especially since she was the first real conversation he’d ever really had.
Animals weren’t the greatest at keeping up.

“I…I really appreciate it. It might not seem like much but, ah, my hair means a lot. I suppose I could say it’s like your technology. Not something that’s needed but something someone has anyway.” Pausing he caught himself, not wanting to be talking forever and ever. He wasn’t even sure she was really too keen to listen to him.
“I suppose what I’m trying to say is that my hair is my only luxury…” All other Morte had short hair.

Turning his head he let his cheek rest against the silver, watching the still feathers on the floor. He felt off about making a mess, he’d clean it, he promised himself that much. It’d be to make up for this.
“I’ll fix those up, when we’re done…” He mentioned, though it was pretty offhanded like he wasn’t certain he’d actually said it out loud.

Her assurance didn’t help much, he appreciated the gesture though. Irko wasn’t one to stop thinking about something just because it was dismissed. Being able to keep his mind up-to-date on what was happening was something that was needed. With a soul he had the same sort of memories as a human.
The other Morte could remember, if it could be called that, anything they were told to. But he had the ability to forget, and forgetting would land him in some pretty hot water if he wasn’t careful.

“It’s odd… Humans are very sociable yet just as many prefer to keep to themselves.” Brushing a hand through his hair in thought the Morte hummed. It was interesting, to say the least. Sure beings with souls were different but humans were the only ones who changed so drastically between each other.
“It’s a bit sad, I suppose, that some have to be intoxicated before they are willing to interact with others.” Such an odd concept, but one that was true enough.

He was a cautious being, he had to be. Morte weren’t welcome and he was the only one of them to feel things like pain. If someone got angry and tried to harm them then he was the one who had to be careful. If the others were harmed then most of the time they were simply thrown away.
If he was injured he didn’t know what they would do.
Irko couldn’t say he was comfortable here, there was always that looming fear –he assumed it was fear he felt- that she’d suddenly turn on him. It was a stupid thought but not an uncommon one.

Humans could lie, and quite well.

“You miss it then? Humans seem to like the comfort of the familiar, so you’re not from here?” She seemed to know the area well enough but the way she spoke held some sort of negativity. Maybe she had no choice? Maybe she simply didn’t like the people?
There were so many things that could be the reason for her feelings but he decided that he probably shouldn’t pry. Not any more then he already had, that is.

Blinking slowly Irko made no move to stop her, but he did jolt a bit when the warm water hit him. He always used cold water; it was all he was really allowed to sue. He could admit this was much more comfortable then anything else.
He wasn’t even sure heated water even existed at home; he knew everyone had to use cold water. He personally didn’t understand it.

“Ah… I’m really not supposed to speak so much.” He told her, unable to bring himself to actually look at her. “It’s simply something I find hard to comply with.”
Again he looked confused when she began soap up his hair. “What, if I may ask, are you doing?” It wasn’t bad, he didn’t mind, but he didn’t actually know what she was doing.

Irko trusted her enough, he trusted her enough to speak freely in front of her, but that didn’t mean he was completely keen on having whatever it was in his hair. He wouldn’t speak up about it but he was still a bit out of it, she helped him easily and without any real question about it.

He could feel the feathers being pulled from his hair but they were simply loose ones that he cared little for. The ones in his hair grew rapidly and they fell out just as quickly. It was the ones hidden under his clothes that took years to grow. Some of them were full feathers while others were only partly grown.
It was always weird, washing himself when all those feathers dotted him. Sometimes he accidently pulled one out, which hurt, or something got caught on his arms because of them.
“You needn’t be so gentle. The feathers in my hair grow quickly, if they fall out it isn’t a worry.” This was nice.

Usually stuff like this was done quickly so it usually hurt when he was done. He didn’t have time to sit there and soak his hair and gently brush it. Most often it was simply scrub and pull out whatever was in there and get out.

“Hmm? Oh, it’s very cold…” The way she asked it seemed a bitt off to him but he chose not to worry about it. Whether she actually wanted an answer or not he was going to give her one.
“Dark and cold, I suppose. I never really took much notice. Things don’t feel very alive there, if I’m honest. It’s like living in a dead world.” It was the easiest way to describe it. “Everything feels so…still.”

Irko had never really thought about his home often. To him it was mostly just a place he returned to, little more then that. It made sense why it was like that, though. Most of the inhabitants were Morte, so they had no way of knowing what their surroundings were like.

“I taught myself magic, being a bird means I have little in terms of defending myself from others. Primarily I know more offensive things, creating fire is one, the healing magic came from simple curiosity.” His head had tilted slightly as he spoke, trying to remember where he’d learnt how to use magic.
“I was never actually taught how to do magic, I simply learned from experimentation. I hadn’t meant to learn, it all simply worked in my favor.”

“Indeed, there are many different types of magic. From healing to more destructive ones there are all kinds. I could show you if you wish, when we are finished.” He wasn’t an expert on most kinds but he could use a few spells from them all at least.
“I could even teach you some if you wish, any being with a soul can use magic after all.”

“I am not allowed to read, it could give me bad ideas, at least, that is what I’m told.” He wasn’t certain how well he could even read, he knew he could read, but he didn’t know how well that was, or even how many things he could read.
“What is magic like in books?”

((I can see the connection. Though I assure you there was no real thought put into Irko when I made him, haha. He actually used to be a scrapped idea. That’s super cool though, I’m sure Irko appreciates you thinking of him. Haha.))

“Ah… You’re all so different. I’m not sure how some of you can keep up with it.” When you came from a place where all people around you were essentially the same it was hard being around creatures that were so different in such odd manners. All Morte seemed the same in every regard, save some looks, so knowing that there were things that had little or large differences made them seem so odd.
Irko wasn’t certain he could even fit into any human category. Yes he had some oddities, considering he was a Morte with a soul, but he wasn’t close enough to fall under any human categories.

“It is an odd world, I suppose…” He eventually murmured, happily settling into the more quite nature of their talk. He wasn’t too certain what made him speak with her; he never had the want to speak with other humans. He never once thought that the best conversation he could have would come from a human. It made sense though; two beings with a soul automatically had some sort of connection.
Still, it scared him. It wasn’t hard for him to speak with her, and he still had the fear that she would turn her back on him. He had that horrible fear that he’d be dead the second he fully relaxed to her.

“London? I think I may have been there before, but I don’t have much of a memory of it.” Forgetting was also a bit scary, how was he supposed to do his job if he could forget so easily?
“I remember it looked nice, but little else. If I’m thinking of the right place that is…” There were plenty of places that he’d been, though he had the habit of simply forgetting them not long after they left. There really wasn’t much of a reason to remember places.

“Oh? You must get lonely without them, or maybe not? I hear some humans care little for parental figures. What do they do that calls them away from their daughter?” Irko was certain humans liked being together, with their blood that is. Some humans made big events out of spending time with their family.
“Why are you not with them? Wouldn’t you be brought along? Learn the skills for the field?” Did people still do that? Train the youngest generation in their own work to keep the line going? Or was he thinking too far back?
A hard call to make…

Irko’s shoulders shifted lightly, his hair felt heavier and he wasn’t too certain what he should expect form this sort of thing. He was certain she wouldn’t do anything bad, so that was a small load off his mind. Instead of thinking too hard on it Irko simply twisted his thin fingers together, feeling the light feathers that lay there. They were small and almost impossible to see if one wasn’t looking for them.
But they were softer then his others and they sat more flatly against his skin so they were rarely a bother. When he felt a bit out of it he’d often run his fingers over the tops of his hands to calm down, in a similar manner he’d do so with his hair. Though his hair calmed him down significantly more.

“That’s a bit sad, but why, if it’s alright to ask, couldn’t you stay with her? You’re friends right?” Irko wasn’t certain on the bond of friendship. It had a lot of things that seemed like they wouldn’t work. And they had just as many things that were impossible by Morte standards.
Staying silent for a moment the Morte let his eyes wander over his hands, fingers twisting. “What is a friend?” He eventually asked, voice fairly quiet.

Blinking slowly at the answer he was given Irko nodded. It made sense, he reasoned, though he couldn’t say that from experience. Once more he rubbed the tips of his fingers over the flat feathers on his hands.
“We’re not allowed things like that at home.” He eventually responded, giving reason for his lack of knowledge.

It was nice, her fingers felt absolutely divine in his hair and he couldn’t find anything else to match this to. The only times he’d ever had another persons hands in his hair were when it was threatened to be cut off and the few times the humans had grasped and pulled it.
Long hair was a danger but he cared for it too much to get rid of it. It was his and he felt calmed by it.

“It is. If I knew less I may think time had gone still, it feels like nothing ever moves…” In a place where all life seemed as hollow and dead as a corpse Irko had always enjoyed the scenery of the world beyond. Plants had colour and the sky was bright.

Closing his eyes when his hair was rinsed Irko made a small noise, one that wasn’t quite content but not irritated. The showerhead was a lot stronger then simply using his hands to scrub his hair, it was all better then using his hands. When he’d asked this favor of her he’d never expected this, he simply wanted some held scrubbing his feathers clean of blood.
When the comb brushed through his hair Irko head tilted back slightly and a noise almost resembling a purr rumbled from his throat. It wasn’t quite a purr, it more resembled a bird song with the pitch but in general it was a purr.

He’d never been so relaxed in his life, he wasn’t tense nor was he ready to move if the option arose. He was content to sit there and let her do what she wished.

“Mmm,” her tone had risen, she seemed happy, “of course. It’s not hard, you’re a human with a soul so you already have an advantage over me.” He still wasn’t quite sure what pushed humans away from magic.
“I wouldn’t have offered if I wasn’t serious.” He was glad she was happy, he wouldn’t mind teaching her, if she was keen to learn.
“I’m not certain I’ll be a good teacher though.” Irko’s words were softer, not from being shy but from pure relaxation.

Shaking his head slightly at her words Irko didn’t see much of a problem. Indeed he may wish to but he followed his orders and rules. If he wasn’t to read then he wouldn’t. That wouldn’t stop him from wanting to know why they were so popular among humans. Biting his lip lightly he could feel the slight tug on his hair as she tried to work out a knot.
With her explanation Irko was quickly intrigued. It all sounded so odd but wonderful at the same time. It wasn’t something he’d be able to imagine but it seemed humans didn’t have that sort of problem.
“Ah…Really? Would… Would that be all right? If I were to accept your offer?”