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Updated: May 27, 2025
In the normal course of events, he somehow knew, he'd go elsewhere to wherever his self found most comfortable or fitting but for some reason he was supposed to remain here. Traiti took leave of a clanmate as they greeted a new one, by touching in his case, touching forehead and wounds as Hovan had, to show respect for one who had died in the Ordeal.
Hovan stood watching Steve's motionless struggle to remain conscious. He himself had been neither silent nor unmoving under the torment the man he sponsored was now enduring, and he felt deep pride in his clanmate. He'd seen nearly a hundred n'ruhar go through this, and Steve was doing very well. Yet . . . something was wrong.
"Ruhar, I don't know enough about Traiti ways to make an intelligent choice. I'll do whatever you recommend." Hovan stopped and turned toward the green-uniformed human. "Ruhar, you do me honor. Stay, then, with me." And, gently, he touched one hand, claws fully extended, to the side of Steve's throat. His claws were to protect, not to harm, his clanmate.
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