"I would like to stay here..." Again, he wondered, at least until Fakir decided to stand. "You won't step on me, would you? You're very tall." A minor worry, for the most part he trusted the centaur to notice him if he did stand up halfway through the night. It could've been his hair or the end of his tail, was Mesut hard to see in the dark with his kind of body, he wondered? "It must be impossible to step on y-" He paused suddenly, scrunching his head back down with a frown, remembering the wagon incident. "I meant from below..." So in a way, it was possible to 'step' on Fakir, he thought. But he had made that mistake already, and wholly wished not to repeat it. Some of that guilt seeping back into his features the more he remembered that angered face and strong voice the horse trotted down that hillside with.<br/><br/>On the topic of rituals and monks, he mused. ".... I don't know, what would count as unorganized. Two suddenly mating? I know that can be a great surprise, it would cause the humans to have a panic and spend a lot of time planning. Mostly, I think we're traded back and forth, to see if any of us are fond of one another." Well, so he heard. Mesut never saw the hustle and bustle of planning accomodations for a new pair and possible arrival himself, he was still a little young to be experienced in the stages of temple life. "They do the same for unruly one, though." Something he had more knowledge of. One of their group of nagas had been such, older, and bitter. Mesut remembered despite his hate of him, still asking if he would be alright, the priest telling him he had simply been delivered to a place where communication would come more easily.<br/><br/>He turned again, stilled for a minute, then pulled himself over Fakir's haunches, falling off the other side and curving around his front to set himself on his legs, back stretched out as he looked up at the underside of the centaur's face curiously. "Do you not like them?" He cocked his head to a side, running fingers and claws lightly over where both of Fakir's halves met. He was strange, some of his parts ran into eachother like any natural creature, the hair down his body grew thicker, his mane touched his spine, but still, strange. "Humans, I mean... You speak... hmm.... Not ill, but not fondly of them." Another oddity, though only to him, Fakir looked strong, like some of the outsiders that visited the temple carrying heavy gifts or temple supplies, leading mules and small wagons filled with goods. The humans in the temple themselves were... modest, he wondered if that were the right word for it. Modest in size, in bulk. "I don't have a problem with it so much... not anymore at least. I think, maybe, if I grew up next to men like those from before, I would also not like humans very much."<br/><br/>Mesut lay there, eyes wandering, hands curious, it was obvious he was still getting to know things, even so simple as what Fakir was. "You have a herd, then. How small do those like you get? How big? Are you really big compared to most..? Do you have as many shapes and sizes as humans do?" The questions poured out. He didn't imagine they got much larger. With nagas, he was rather average, though they hadn't much range when it came to their bodies... Perhaps, that was due to all living together under the same conditions. "Do the others have their own colors? Or are all of you the same." Another field where their own were indistinguishable. At least the nagas that Mesut had grown up with, there were subtle differences in hues, in markings, but together they appeared still as mass of stripes and spots, like knotted string.