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Not for the first time, Jega and Escharum were the sole survivors of a battle. Bodies of enemy and ally alike were strewn across the battlefield in various states - no other signs of life and nothing else left to entertain them. They signaled for pick-up, but still would have to wait for a ship.
At some point, they realized the only way to reliably pass the time would be to fill the air with their voices. Idle chatter about the battle and the area around them lead into casual conversation. One of the topics they landed on in the flow was their respective youths.
"None of my uncles and grandfathers in the clan were blademasters," Jega said, as he explained the 'ai of his name. "I went to a war college in the years before my enlistment. Learned from seasoned masters and warriors in between tours techniques that my relatives could have never known. And then I got better at the blade than even them."
Jega would not admit, though, that the stories Escharum shared easily topped a majority of his. The elderly Jiralhanae had lived a life without the Covenant - a feat no one else Jega knew could boast. He knew the original meanings of all the Jiralhanae traditions and customs, not the bastardized and coded adaptations they'd had to undergo to survive Covenant zealotry. He shared details of Jiralhanae life and childhood that Jega had never heard before, given the animosity usually between their species. Jega imagined that some of what he had said Escharum would've heard before - some fellow Sangheili liked to brag and flaunt species-superiority.
Every last Sangheili that'd joined them for this battle had fallen, while Escharum remained the only survivor at Jega's side. That was all he needed to pass judgement on who was superior or not, and it had little to do regarding species.
"I still remember the day vividly, even after all these years," Escharum said, reaching the end of his tale about when the Jiralhanae warred with the Covenant. "When my deskalo stomped my foot and forced me to take part in the communal howl. The chieftain issued it as a show of loyalty to the Prophets - to root out those still eager to fight, and save some of the pride of those that wanted the surrender. Later, we argued - a rarity, given how a Jiralhanae must never question their deskalo. But as always, I must admit his wisdom was strong. He warned me that there are fights you win, and fights you survive in order to win later. The Jiralhanae were not a match for the Covenant at that time. But he promised me, as long as those like us bided our time, the Jiralhanae would reclaim their freedom. When he fell in battle, my resolve to see his prophecy through tripled.
"And then I laid eyes on the cub that eventually became Atriox, and I knew. He was the one. I just had to make sure he wasn't dragged into the foolishness like most of our kin."
They were undoubtedly "trapped" on this battlefield until transport arrived, yet the excuse for such intimate conversation made Jega extremely patient when he otherwise would not be.
And perhaps a little disappointed when, just as Escharum was starting a humorous story from his youth regarding a lack of control of pheromones, the transport finally revealed itself in the sky and the old Jiralhanae shut up. They both slipped back into the polished armor of War Chief and Blademaster, no indication present of what they did when not perceived by others.