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Post by ®Hawkpath® on Aug 2, 2021 0:56:30 GMT -5
Sal didn’t know how much Zuko had, but he was noble, wasn’t he? He had to have more than this. It didn’t mean a thing that he traveled light. That was just being smart, not an actual indication of how rich you were. “I heard you the first time,” he snapped, scowling at Zuko, though it was hard to tell with the mask on. His eye made his feelings fairly clear, even if the rest of his expression was lost. He stared at the wall, jaw clenched. Zuko was right, of course. He hadn’t bought more than the bread Zuko was currently holding. He should have. He knew he should have…he was hungry, as he always was, and who was going to stop him? Wouldn’t it be smart to use all the money on food that would keep, in case someone tried to take it back? “Shut up,” he ordered, but it came out just a little more flustered than he’d wanted it to. Zuko was getting to him, a little. He couldn’t let that happen. He looked at the boy, eye narrowed. “I think I’ve survived this long without your help, haven’t I? What’s it to you? Just shut up and eat your bread.”
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strider
No mourners, no funerals
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Post by strider on Aug 2, 2021 1:06:40 GMT -5
Zuko hadn’t meant to tell Sal how he should live his life, but it just didn’t make sense to him at all. If you had extra money, why would you use it to sustain someone else, someone you didn’t like, instead of buying food for yourself? Zuko knew what it was like to go hungry, now. He knew the pain of skipping meals, and he knew what it felt like when every meal felt like a stolen treasure. If Zuko had any extra gold, he would have indulged a little bit. He would have purchased something sweet and savored it all by himself. He would have… well, he wouldn’t have bought bread for a stranger who was dedicated to chasing him everywhere all night long. Someone who wanted to kill what he thought of as hope. Zuko could see why Sal hated him, even if Zuko was aware that it was all a misunderstanding. Sal would likely have been more than willing to give up the Survivor’s location if he knew just how much damage the Survivor could cause. But Zuko couldn’t change Sal’s mind about that. Not alone. “I just think it’s dumb of you to buy me bread when you have extra money at your disposal,” Zuko replied, crossing his arms for a long moment before he glanced down at the bread he was holding. Fine. Zuko ripped off a chunk, deliberately tossing the larger half at Sal. It would have been amusing if it hit him in the face, but that wasn’t the point. The point was that Sal needed to eat. Zuko still wasn’t sure why he cared. Perhaps it was only because Sal had just saved his life.
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Post by ®Hawkpath® on Aug 2, 2021 1:21:56 GMT -5
Sal knew that the questions Zuko had about his decision were reasonable, which was why they were so much harder for him to simply ignore. He knew how desperate the search for food could be…and he ran from Zuko every night, too, which just made him hungrier. Why hadn’t he gotten himself food too? He was willing enough to scam Zuko and take his money, obviously. And he knew he needed to take all the food he could get. Maybe he just didn’t know how to deal with the fact that Zuko was currently fairly helpless, and in his care. He was used to his punches not hurting, so he’d never needed to pull them. Steal from a nobleman; they’re mildly inconvenienced and you’re alive. That was how it worked. But Zuko wasn’t in that position right now. Sal’s actions made a difference here. He didn’t care, he told himself. Zuko deserved to feel the consequences of his choices. He at least knew it wasn’t pity that had made him choose as he had…he had no pity for this boy. No respect either, but that was a different matter. He caught the chunk on instinct, then looked at it, startled. That…he hadn’t seen coming. Why? Why would Zuko bother trying to make sure he had food? Why not ler his own poor decisions weaken him? He looked back at Zuko, eye searching. He was half tempted to be petty and save it for later, but…he was hungry. He shook his head a little and turned away, heading for the corner, where he’d hopefully have enough privacy to remove his mask.
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strider
No mourners, no funerals
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Post by strider on Aug 2, 2021 1:32:59 GMT -5
If Zuko were honest with himself, he wasn’t entirely certain that he knew why he had tossed Sal the bread. He tried to convince himself that it was because Sal wouldn’t do much good to him if he was dead, but it was a flimsy excuse. If Sal had to skip one meal, he wouldn’t die. He might be mildly inconvenienced, he might even get a little bit weaker… but he wouldn’t die. There was no excuse for Zuko to make sure he was fed other than the fact that it was what Iroh would do. Iroh would also make sure that Sal had tea, but Zuko didn’t really know how to make tea, and he doubted Sal had the right ingredients anyway. He didn’t really want to start a pot burning anyway. That seemed like a good way to get himself and Sal hurt, if he did it wrong. Zuko didn’t know how to think of himself anymore. He tried to avoid it, because it had been a while since he had been a nobleman. He was noble by blood. He was fighting tooth and nail to reclaim his rightful place and take back his honor. When it had been stripped of him, he had assumed that it meant that there were no honorable Skaa, that living among them would make his situation worse with his honor. He didn’t think he was honorable, yet – he couldn’t be until Ozai gave him his honor back – but he had met plenty of honorable Skaa, though he never would have told them to their faces. It didn’t matter if they were honorable or not. They were still Skaa. They were still beneath him. Although… Zuko felt slightly more akin to them than he did the girls he had grown up with. “You know you can just tell me to cover my eyes,” Zuko said after a long moment, arms crossing after taking another bite of bread. “I won’t look. You can probably even make sure I won’t look. You don’t just have to stand in a corner like you’re something shameful.” There was a tiny bit of accusation in the words, though Zuko did his best to hide it.
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strider
No mourners, no funerals
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Post by strider on Aug 2, 2021 2:22:15 GMT -5
Orpheus had been intimidated by the doctor, though he had been treated kindly. They had been thorough, though they had suggested he needed to take as much time to rest as possible. Orpheus was Skaa, though he didn’t mention that. He had no time to rest. He had to work here, and then he had to go home and make sure that Mr. Hermes was alright, and then, if he wanted any time to himself, he would have to take his beaten up guitar and find someplace to play where he wouldn’t be bothering any of the nobility. It was cruel, in his mind, the way they were interested in his music, pulled in by it until they realized he was the one producing it. At that point they would spit in his direction and turn around, disgusted that they had ever shown any interest at all. It was as though his art had value until they realized it was produced by a Skaa, and then it was less than worthless. Sometimes, he didn’t even play when he went out. He just rehearsal without playing, fingers hovering over the strings, mouth forming shapes, but no words. The point was, Orpheus barely had enough time to sleep during the day. He couldn’t rest as much as the doctor said he should, especially if he wanted to keep his job here. That was imperative to him. Not only did Lord Wammy pay well, but neither he nor L had turned out to be cruel as of yet. This was the safest job Orpheus could imagine any Skaa capable of having. He knew he would get used to it too quickly… he knew he wouldn’t be able to take a job after this that would put his life in constant danger. Which meant he had to keep himself employed here. The only jobs that paid well were offered by nobility. Nobility were cruel – any job that paid well would lead to pain down the line. He couldn’t lose this job. He just… couldn’t. “I feel… alright,” Orpheus said after a moment, staring at the ceiling. He didn’t want to admit to the headache that was still frizzing at the edges of his vision.
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Post by ®Hawkpath® on Aug 2, 2021 13:41:18 GMT -5
Sal didn’t know what to make of where they were now. When he’d begun, he’d known it was a dangerous game to play. Zuko had no reason to be gentle with a Skaa boy who happened to carry in his head just what he needed. Zuko had no reason to do anything but hurt him, if he were ever caught. And he had been hurt…but it had been his own desperate attempt to free himself that had done it. He’d been sure he was going to die, sure there was nothing at all he could do. He’d tried to stay useful. He’d tried to seem crackable, but uncracked. Zuko could still have killed him. Or at least hurt him…he said he hadn’t had the resources to take him prisoner, but Sal found that hard to believe, since he both owned nothing and currently had a prisoner. As for honor, Sal had never thought he had any. Honor wasn’t for the desperate, after all, it was for the ones who could afford it, like everything else. Sal didn’t have the time or the resources to be honorable. He had to settle for alive. Then Zuko spoke and he lost his train of thought once again. He turned sharply, staring at Zuko. It was true that he could probably just blindfold Zuko. He didn’t trust him not to look on his own, obviously. Why would he do that? He had no reason to do Sal any favors. Something shameful. That hit harder than Zuko probably knew. He flinched before he could stop himself, taking a small step back, then stopping, because he didn’t want to prove him right. “Don’t talk about things you don’t understand,” he told him once he got his voice to work again, though it was much lower than it had been. He knew Zuko was right about this, too, but…it was easier not to think about it. “What kind of nobleman are you, anyway? Why do you care?”
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strider
No mourners, no funerals
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Post by strider on Aug 2, 2021 18:51:54 GMT -5
Zuko didn’t know how long Sal intended to keep him here. It seemed… unlikely that it was for a long time, unless he wanted to use Zuko for ransom… even with the money Sal had stolen, it wasn’t as though an extra mouth was cheap to feed. For a brief moment, Zuko had considered taking Sal captive, but he barely had enough resources to survive himself, let alone enough to keep someone else alive. And the last thing he wanted to do was accidentally starve Sal and make his chances of getting information out of him even lower. He just… he didn’t know what Sal’s game plan was here. Frankly, he wasn’t entirely certain there was a game plan, which was a mildly unnerving thought. If Sal was playing this by ear, then the slightest thing could set him off. The slightest thing might make him change his mind and decide to kill Zuko instead of keeping him alive for… well, whatever reason he was keeping him alive. “Things I don’t understand?” Zuko asked after a long moment, something hard in his voice. “There are two reasons someone might cover their face. The first reason is because they don’t want anyone to know who they are. If that were the case, then you wouldn’t eat while I’m awake at all, would you? Because there’s a chance that I would see, and even a glimpse might be enough to recognize you in a lineup or something. Also… you’re not really a big-shot criminal – no offense. There’s no reason to hide who you are. Which means…” Zuko trailed off, using his tied hands to gesture to his own scarred face. “So what, exactly don’t I understand? Why shouldn’t I care?” He wasn’t saying he saw himself in Sal. That was a lie. He was just… he was pointing out that there was a similarity between them. Zuko’s scar – his shriveled ear, his half-blind eye, the warped and darked tissue covering half his face – would be enough to hide, if he decided he was ashamed of it.
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Post by ®Hawkpath® on Aug 2, 2021 19:20:44 GMT -5
Ransom hadn’t really occurred to Sal as an option. Maybe it should have. But the truth was that he didn’t trust his ability to keep from ending up dead if he called that sort of attention to himself. It wouldn’t be personal, he was sure. But no nobleman was going to stand for a simple Skaa boy having the guts to try and make them do anything at all. He was only one person. If they sent people after him, he’d have no chance of fighting them off. He didn’t even think they’d listen if he threatened to kill Zuko…he may have been noble, but he was also one kid, and pride had always seemed to matter more than anyone else’s life. So he didn’t have a game plan. He didn’t know what he was going to do. This was dangerous, and he couldn’t keep it up for long…even with Zuko’s funds, he could barely keep himself fed, and he didn’t think for a moment he could pull off feeding a second mouth for very long. This was temporary. He had to listen to Zuko, though part of him wanted to just walk away. He could just…leave the room. Was it really that obvious? His hand moved of its own accord, reaching up to touch his mask, right where he knew the scar split his lip, exposing his teeth. Then, as though angry with himself, he dropped it and dropped his gaze. What was he supposed to say when Zuko was right? “You don’t know a thing about me, nobleman,” he said finally, addressing the floor. His tone was hard and tension made it almost harsh, but he didn’t raise his voice. “And trying to get in my head won’t make me talk.”
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strider
No mourners, no funerals
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Post by strider on Aug 2, 2021 23:51:38 GMT -5
Zuko didn’t know what he was intending here. He didn’t really care whether Sal liked him or hated him. He didn’t really care if this conversation ended well. It wasn’t even really a conversation, was it? It was just… Zuko knowing what it was like to feel like he had to hide. It was Zuko knowing that shame that came with showing your face to the world when that face didn’t seem quite human anymore. It was the feeling of knowing that people were always going to be staring, that nobody was going to ask what happened because it wasn’t ‘polite,’ but that somewhere in the back of their head, they were always going to be thinking about how you must have done something to deserve it. Bad things like destroyed faces didn’t happen to good people who did their jobs well and made sure to always watch out for themselves. Destroyed faces happened to people who misbehaved. They happened to people who got in the way and weren’t careful. It made it easier that way to pretend like such a tragedy could never befall a normal person. Zuko knew that wasn’t the case. He also knew he had deserved his scar. He had to wear it and live with the shame of it. “You know,” Zuko replied sharply, crossing his arms as best he could with his hands still tied together. The attempt wasn’t very successful. “Maybe I wasn’t trying to get in your head. Maybe I was trying to be genuine, but you can’t believe I’m capable of it, can you?” Perhaps the division between Skaa and noblemen was just as stark for the Skaa as it was for the nobility. The nobility didn’t see the Skaa as people, but… in truth, the Skaa didn’t see the nobility as people, either. They just saw them as cruel beasts, killing anything that inconvenienced them. The nobility were like monsters. The Skaa were like animals. Zuko was uniquely situated to see them both as human. Unfortunately, he knew how cruel humans could be.
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Post by ®Hawkpath® on Aug 3, 2021 18:23:36 GMT -5
Sal didn’t know why he was even bothering to answer Zuko. He could just as well ignore him until he figured out that conversation with the enemy just wasn’t going to happen and stopped trying. He looked at Zuko, and for the first time, he let himself take in the scar. It had been easy enough not to let himself notice it. Easy to ignore it, because what did it matter? It didn’t change who Zuko was or what he was trying to do. It didn’t change Sal’s job. Burning, most likely. Severe…and focused. Worse around the eye…was Zuko half blind too? Sal wouldn’t know. It wasn’t like it had ever stopped him if he was. Just like it had never stopped Sal. He was probably at least half deaf, judging by the look of that ear. That was one thing Sal had to admit he’d never contended with. He didn’t doubt Zuko had adjusted, though…people always did. Had Zuko ever thought about covering his face? Had he ever tried it? If he had…why had he stopped? Sal shook the thought off, angry he’d had it in the first place, though he couldn’t decide whether that was because he didn’t want to be thinking about Zuko’s life or because he didn’t think Zuko should cover his face if he hadn’t chosen to. He stared at Zuko, eyes narrowed. Did he not believe Zuko could be genuine because he was noble? Did he think they were as inhuman as they thought he was? Two sides in a war, both convinced the others weren’t people. He guessed that was how the Survivor thought of it…and could he claim he was any different? But not here. Not now. He didn’t think Zuko could be genuine because he couldn’t remember the last time he’d met someone who was. The nobleman lied and killed on a whim, uncaring of the consequences, because there were none. The Skaa did the same, only they did it because they were desperate. He was firmly and eternally on the side of the latter, but that didn’t mean he’d have trusted them for a second. He let out a low, frustrated sigh. It wasn’t like he had anything better to do with his time. And maybe…just maybe…he had been alone long enough that even a conversation with the enemy was hard to resist. He stalked back over to Zuko and sat down on the floor, out of reach of any attacks but close enough to read the other boy’s expressions. “Alright. You win,” he told him, unable to keep the exasperation out of his voice. Or the touch of sarcasm. “I’m listening. Why do you think I wear a mask? Why do you care?”
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Post by ®Hawkpath® on Aug 3, 2021 21:08:11 GMT -5
L knew that Orpheus’ life was complicated, much more than his own. He knew that, for Orpheus, this wasn’t a simple matter of making himself rest when he would rather be doing other things. For Orpheus, even if he wanted to rest, he might not be able to. He could lose his job…Watari could fire him, and as he’d pointed out. l wouldn’t be able to undo it. He wasn’t the master of the house. He was technically Orpheus’ master, but that had limits when he was up against someone who outranked him. He’d come up with a couple options, but since they concerned Orpheus, he wanted to run them by him too, and get his opinions and any other ideas he might have. This was a problem. L was good at solving problems. Was it wrong that he was actually a bit excited to have somerhing this interesting to do? He wasn’t intending to enjoy what was a matter of life for Orpheus…or possibly him, if Watari was right…but his brain ached to solve things, and this was complex enough to draw him in. He approached and knelt next to Orpheus, peering at his eyes for any sign of improvement. He knew better now what to watch for, the doctor had told him the details, so he had a better sense of how well Orpheus was actually doing. “That’s vague,” he noted, sitting back a little. He was tempted to check his temperature, but the doctor hadn’t mentioned it as a symptom, so he didn’t see the point. “Are you in any pain?” He added, tapping his lip thoughtfully as he studied him. “More specifically, does your head hurt?”
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strider
No mourners, no funerals
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Post by strider on Aug 3, 2021 21:49:50 GMT -5
Zuko wished he knew why he cared. He wished he had a solid, easy way to articulate it to Sal. He wished he could just say that he didn’t believe there was all that much difference between Skaa and nobles, that he wished they could all be equal, and that he would fight his father with the Survivor to ensure they were. He had never said that he wanted the Survivor dead, had he? That was just the assumption that Sal had made, because why else would a nobleman be after the Survivor of Hathsin? In a different world, Sal would be wrong. In a different world, Zuko would be free to be as angry as he wanted to be about injustice. About everything the Skaa faced that nobles didn’t have to. But it was more complicated than that. And there was a part of him that was always going to believe his father when he said that people needed leadership, otherwise they would devolve into chaos. It didn’t matter in Zuko’s eyes if the people who came to chaos were Skaa or nobles. In either case, it would be unnecessary blood shed when Zuko could have done something to stop it by trusting his father. By being the kind of ruler his empire could look up to. He was a prince. He wasn’t just some random noble who happened to think he was special. “I think you wear a mask to hide something about your face,” Zuko said after a moment, shifting so that Sal could only see the unscarred portion of his own face. He doubted Sal would state, but he hated drawing attention to the scar. He hid it when he could, just… not as thoroughly as Sal did, perhaps. He didn’t have the luxury of a mask. “I think it’s something that you’re ashamed of. Or something that you were ashamed of, once. And you got comfortable having something to cover it. And… I think you’re probably afraid of what people will think when they see what lies underneath. I think you’re afraid that you’ll be reduced to whatever it is you look like, that people won’t look past it. And you’re probably right. There will be people who only see you as whatever you’re hiding. There are people who only see me as the scar, and I hate it, but…” he trailed off, shoulders hunching as he realized he had shared more than he had meant to. It seemed the pain of falling and the relief of waking up had freed his tongue a little more than he was prepared for. He took in a deep breath, looking over at Sal for a long moment. “As for why I care… it doesn’t matter. Maybe I don’t care. Maybe I just… maybe I just know how it feels.”
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Transgender
strider
No mourners, no funerals
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Post by strider on Aug 3, 2021 22:22:40 GMT -5
Orpheus didn’t want to tell L the truth. He knew what the doctor had said, he knew he needed to keep resting, especially if his head hurt. He knew he needed to be taking care of himself, but the thing was… taking care of himself was a foreign concept. He wasn’t really sure how to do it, or how to do it well. He was just used to surviving, whatever that meant on any given day. Today, it meant making sure that he had the right answer to L’s questions. The answer that would enable him to get back to work sooner, not necessarily the answer that was true. It was a difficult line to traverse, especially since Orpheus wasn’t good at lying in the slightest. “Yes, I… I didn’t mean to be vague. Apologies, Master L.” Orpheus dipped his head, still trying to keep up the respect he had been told to show for L. Part of him wondered what the nobility had ever done to deserve respect, but… L wasn’t really part of that. There had once been two categories in Orpheus’ head: Skaa and Noble. Now there was a third category, and inside were L, Lord Wammy, and the doctor who had aided them. They were nobles who seemed to be kind, even to Skaa. They were nobles who were aware of the part that they were supposed to play, but who refused to play it anyway. Nobles who were stronger than Orpheus would have given them credit for. “I… my head still hurts a little bit,” Orpheus admitted, closing his eyes against the light. The light was aggravating his head, but the last thing he wanted was for L to plunge them into a pitch dark room. It would feel too much like capture that way.
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Post by ®Hawkpath® on Aug 3, 2021 22:29:53 GMT -5
Ironically enough, it was possible Zuko believed more in the world the Survivor was aiming to create than Sal did. A world where noblemen and Skaa weren’t divided, where they were equals…that was the goal, wasn’t it? Or was it to wipe out the nobility completely? On bitter days, when Sal was too cold and hungry to give anyone the benefit of the doubt, he thought maybe those things were one and the same. He wondered whether it was even worth the effort of trying to make them all get along…and he wondered if it was fair to the Skaa to even give them the chance. After all they’d done, the pain they’d inflicted, maybe it was too late for them to try and make up. Maybe too much blood had been spilled for a peaceful resolution. Sal wasn’t much for vengeance. He just thought maybe they were past words now. He didn’t interrupt, just listened quietly, very aware of the mask, though he often forgot it was even there. It was just…part of him. As natural a face as any other could have been. He assumed everyone else would think he was just trying to be anonymous…he had never expected anyone to guess at it being anything else. He had never expected Zuko of all people to guess it was anything at all. He considered him. He didn’t know what to say to that, really. He didn’t feel sorry for himself for not having the face he’d been born with anymore. He was still alive, wasn’t he? He didn’t have any right to complain about a few scars. There wasn’t a person in this world that didn’t have scars of some kind. Was he ashamed of it? He knew he had been once. Now…it was hard to tell what was a feeling, and what was a memory of one. He tossed the bread back and forth between his hands. “Even if you’re right,” he said finally. “And I do have something to hide…” He didn’t know where he’d been going with that. He fell silent for a moment, then tried again. “You don’t seem like you don’t care, that’s all.”
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Transgender
strider
No mourners, no funerals
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Post by strider on Aug 3, 2021 22:59:59 GMT -5
Zuko didn’t know if everyone could be equal, he just knew that they couldn’t be left to rule themselves. That was how more blood was shed. That was how someone like the Survivor started killing the nobility, and only stirring up the nobility so that they killed each other. Eventually, once the nobility was gone, the Skaa would start killing each other, too. Zuko didn’t know if he believed for sure that humanity’s natural state was war, he just knew he didn’t want to be responsible for the downfall of the world as he knew it. He knew he couldn’t risk that. It was… complicated, though. He didn’t know what to believe, for certain. He just knew what he had been told, and he knew what he had seen. The two didn’t seem to match together, but he tried to tape over the gaps and ignore them to the best of his ability. He would be able to examine it all… eventually. Not yet. He’d be able to give it all conscious thought when he was back home. With any luck, that would be soon. It didn’t matter, what he was thinking. What mattered was wat Sal was saying. What Sal was saying about whatever it was he thought he had to hide. What Sal was saying about Zuko. “I never said you had anything to hide,” Zuko said sharply, eyes narrowing as he looked at Sal. “I just implied that you think you do. Whatever you’re hiding, it’s not because you need to in order to live, unless… you can’t actually breathe without it. But I don’t think that’s the case. Point is… you don’t technically need it. Point is, you shouldn’t have to wear it unless you’re absolutely certain you want to.” Zuko didn’t know what he would do, in Sal’s position. He didn’t know if he would wear a mask to make sure nobody saw the scar, or if he would go on as he did now, letting it be everyone’s first impression, letting it define him in every conversation he had. It would be nice, to know that some people didn’t know about it. It would be nice, to not bear the mark of his fathers’ wrath (and judgement, he reminded himself), on his face. It hadn’t been cruelty. It had been justice. The punishment was warranted, otherwise he wouldn’t have done it. “I don’t know if I care or not,” Zuko said after a moment, shaking his head. “I just… if I had the chance to hide my face, I’d want to be sure I’m doing it for the right reasons. Not just because I’m ashamed.”
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Post by ®Hawkpath® on Aug 4, 2021 0:00:37 GMT -5
Spook didn’t think the street kids were really good or bad. At least…not collectively. He’d met bloodthirsty kids before, cruel kids who’d kill as soon as any nobleman would. Having been a kid at the time himself, he hadn’t ever considered taking their age into account. He didn’t know how old they’d been. He didn’t know how old he’d been either, actually. He hadn’t interacted with adults enough to know he wasn’t one. Now, he knew better. Now, he knew he was young, and so was Wylan. It didn’t change much. But it did make him think every once in a while that it was possible not everything that had happened to him was his fault after all. Looking at Wylan…Spook didn’t have any doubt in his mind that he was Skaa. Nobility just weren’t that dirty, ever, unless they were dead. He didn’t think Kelsier would have any objection to an extra pair of hands, and he liked Wylan. He knew the chances of him staying alive were much, much higher if he ended up on Kelsier’s crew. He hadn’t ever offered it before. But then…it wasn’t like he really talked to anyone on the street. They were skittish, just like he was. What you got when you put too shy kids in the same room was a whole lot of silence. No one had any reason to talk to anyone else, unless they had something you wanted, and then you either stole it or you risked trying to trade for it. “The Survivor is nice,” he told him, eyes earnest as he searched Wylan’s prettier ones. “Nicer than almost anyone else I’ve ever met. He wouldn’t turn you away. He didn’t turn me away, after all.” If he let Spook in, the boy figured, he’d let anyone in.
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Transgender
strider
No mourners, no funerals
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Post by strider on Aug 4, 2021 0:07:30 GMT -5
Turning Spook away seemed like something very different from turning Wylan away. Even discounting the whole noble business, the fact was that in growing up on the streets, Spook simply had more skills that would be worthwhile to the Survivor and his crew. And even if he didn’t already know how to read, he could be taught. Wylan was just… unteachable. The letters blurred, refused to sort themselves out and make sense in his head. It wasn’t for lack of trying, it was just that he wasn’t smart enough to read. If he wasn’t smart enough to read, why would he be considered smart enough to be part of the Survivor’s crew? That was Wylan’s main concern. It didn’t even really occur to him that anyone might connect him with his father. They looked similar, of course, but Wylan had so thoroughly divorced his father from his thoughts that the reminder of him was more of a jolt than anything else. For others, it would be their first thought when they saw him. Whether that made him a target or a potential ally was anybody’s guess. “I believe you,” Wylan said after a long moment, searching Spook’s gaze. “At least that he’s nice. I’d… I’d like to try to help him. I’d like to try to help you, even if I’m not very useful. He wasn’t even an Allomancer. Did the Survivor even associate with non-Allomancers now that he was Mistborn? Was Spook an Allomancer? It seemed a little bit too personal to ask, so Wylan just stood where he was, trying to read through Spook’s expression. “I’m in,” he said eventually, any doubt gone from his voice. He was waiting on Spook to lead the way.
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Post by ®Hawkpath® on Aug 4, 2021 3:01:48 GMT -5
L paused, glancing down at Orpheus, forgetting to check for symptoms for a moment as he focused on his expression instead. “I told you, you really don’t need to call me that,” he murmured finally, though he didn’t feel optimistic that he would be heeded. It seemed Orpheus had a very rigid idea of what was necessary and what wasn’t. L couldn’t entirely blame him for that - he probably blamed him a little more than he should have, but in his defense, he didn’t know the circumstances very well - but it did mean he was going to be called “Master L” a lot longer than he was really comfortable with. He liked his name. Adding a title ruined it a little for him. At least it wasn’t an overly pretentious title. It was technically accurate. He would prefer to be that than have everyone know him as the Lord Ruler. That was just repetitive, not to mention unnecessary, as he made his status as both lord and ruler very clear. Even he was aware that this sort of thought was best left to wander safely inside his head, not out of it. “How many fingers is this?” He asked instead, holding up two fingers a bit above Orpheus’ face.
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Transgender
strider
No mourners, no funerals
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Post by strider on Aug 4, 2021 3:18:55 GMT -5
Orpheus searched L’s gaze for a long second, half tempted to just call him ‘L’ in response. It was going to take a while for him to feel comfortable doing so. It may never happen if he got fired before L managed to wear him down. Before L managed to prove (without threatening), that it really was not only okay but also preferable for Orpheus to drop the honorific. If it were anyone else, Orpheus would have been convinced it was a test. It didn’t seem to be a test, though. L seemed genuine about it. The risk was the possibility of Watari (Lord Wammy, rather. He needed to curb that mistake as well unless he wanted to accidentally call him Watari) finding out that Orpheus wasn’t being formal in the slightest. Lord Wammy seemed kind, but he also seemed strict. He seemed traditionalist in the way that many noblemen chose to be. Perhaps lighter on the hating Skaa part of the doctrine. “I would rather not… take the risks involved with choosing to use just your name. Even if you do not see it as disrespectful… even if I don’t… evidently it still is.” And then L was holding a hand out in front of his face and Orpheus’ eyes widened. “Four…?” he asked, voice quiet as he answered. The answer didn’t seem accurate, but… Orpheus let out a soft sigh, letting L be the judge of that instead of himself.
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Post by ®Hawkpath® on Aug 5, 2021 20:59:39 GMT -5
L gave a small sigh, shaking his head a little. He couldn’t make Orpheus use his name, of course. He could technically order him to, probably, but he hadn’t yet given any orders and he found he didn’t really want to start now. Besides, apparently there were risks. He didn’t see what they were…unless Orpheus was worried about the same things Watari seemed to be? Was use of his name only another way they could be put in danger? He didn’t like the idea of danger he hadn’t been aware of. And yet, it seemed to be everywhere. He let it drop for the moment. He wasn’t going to give up, though. He didn’t see how it could be that dangerous in the safety of their home. He lowered his fingers, shaking his head a little. “You have double vision,” he informed him. “The doctor said you might. That settles it, you can’t get back to work until you’re better. You’ll have to get home, of course…unless I find a way to hide you here, but I assume your father would worry if you didn’t make it back, and I’d hate to make him think something had happened to you…although technically I suppose he wouldn’t be incorrect.”
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Transgender
strider
No mourners, no funerals
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Post by strider on Aug 5, 2021 22:34:53 GMT -5
It was awfully kind of L to be worried about him, Orpheus knew, but it was also rather inconvenient. If he couldn’t work, then he couldn’t afford food. If he couldn’t afford food for either himself or Mr. Hermes… they might both die. It was food or rent, and they could barely keep up with rent. At least it kept a roof over their head, though, and made sure they didn’t end up on the streets to be picked off by noblemen with bad tempers. Their situation was far preferable to many, though it still hung in the balance. Orpheus had taken this job because he was desperate, and not even a week in he was likely going to get fired because his master’s son wouldn’t let him do his job properly. Of course, nobody would see it like that. They would just think that Orpheus wasn’t trying hard enough. “The assumption,” Orpheus replied quietly, “If I don’t make it back… is that I’m dead. It’s not an uncommon story. I…” he hesitated, then looked up at L. The simplest thing to do would be to have someone send a message to Mr. Hermes, but that wouldn’t be safe for anyone involved, especially since Oprheus was half certain that L would want to deliver it himself. “I’ll walk home tonight, it’s more than alright. And I’ll be ready to work again in the morning, I promise.”
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Post by ®Hawkpath® on Aug 6, 2021 0:00:49 GMT -5
L wasn’t intending to be irritating. He was just…concerned, and not sure how to help in a situation where he wasn’t allowed to do what needed to be done. He’d been told not to do the chores again tomorrow…at this point, he was beginning to think it might be time to just come clean about Orpheus’ injury. Watari was reasonable. Surely he would see the sense in letting Orpheus rest until he was better. He let L rest when he wasn’t well, didn’t he? He knew L and not Orpheus, fine, but that wasn’t any reason to show favoritism. He tensed a little. The idea of Orpheus walking home alone…it alarmed him. He could just picture Orpheus slipping and falling, unable to get up…lying in the street…maybe getting trampled, or robbed, or murdered… “That won’t work,” he said decidedly. “Concussions are serious, if you fell, you might not be able to rise again. And you can’t work tomorrow. You won’t heal if you don’t rest.” He considered Orpheus for a long moment. “Look…let me talk to Watari. If he knew the circumstances, I’m sure he’d help you. He’s very kind, and since he’s already paying you, I know he can continue to do so until you’re well again. We’ve survived this long without someone to clean the house, we can survive a while longer.”
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Transgender
strider
No mourners, no funerals
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Post by strider on Aug 6, 2021 0:11:21 GMT -5
“I don’t think you understand,” Orpheus murmured after a long moment, staring firmly at the ground. He didn’t know how to explain this, and he didn’t want to treat someone who could hurt him like he was stupid, but… but it was clear that L had little to no understanding of how the world actually worked for the Skaa. How could he? He had never experienced it. It just meant that what he was asking Orpheus to do, what he was considering a solution… it wasn’t going to be possible. It didn’t matter how understanding Watari was. No nobleman worth his salt would be willing to pay a servant who wasn’t doing any work. Particularly not a servant who was using up some of their resources by existing in the same building because he couldn’t make it all the way home. “It’s different for you than it is for the Skaa. When you get injured, you’re encouraged to rest. You’re encouraged to heal your body so that you can get better and do impressive things in the future. But… to the nobility, Skaa are only worth their immediate usefulness. If I can’t work, then my life is worth nothing to most noblemen. I might as well be put down like a horse who can’t carry wares anymore. I don’t have the luxury of healing. I will be working again tomorrow. Apologies for being frank, Master L.”
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Post by ®Hawkpath® on Aug 6, 2021 0:21:21 GMT -5
L narrowed his eyes a little. That was almost precisely what Watari had told him…he didn’t understand. He didn’t know what he was doing. Both people seemed sure they knew more than he did, and he couldn’t say for sure that they were actually wrong. The worst past was, they were also agreeing with each other. Watari wanted L to stop doing chores, and Orpheus wanted to start doing them. It was only L who seemed to see what should have been obvious: Orpheus was injured. The doctor had said he shouldn’t work. He needed rest. He could tell Orpheus was putting his foot down. Which left L with two distasteful options: he could try to order Orpheus to rest, or he could back off and allow him to do as he wished. Neither felt like the right thing to do, but he didn’t see another option. “Do you believe your life is worth nothing if you can’t work?” He asked quietly after a long moment, trying to catch Orpheus’ eye.
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Post by ®Hawkpath® on Aug 6, 2021 0:40:15 GMT -5
L pursed his lips, unsure how best to proceed. The truth was, he didn’t want to be responsible for this person’s death, if he didn’t stop him from working. If he let him go on believing that…that he had to, just because he wasn’t noble. He wanted to go to Watari, but at the same time, he wanted to handle this himself. He wanted…well. What he wanted was to not have to fight to make someone take care of themselves. What he wanted was to not think for even a second that Orpheus was right and Watari really wouldn’t allow him to rest. “I believe you have worth,” he said simply, sitting back in his heels to regard him. “Even if you can’t work. If you were…if you were a child alone in the world, I wouldn’t first ask how much you could give me before I took you in. If you were a nobleman sick at a ball. I wouldn’t wonder whether your father would pay me before I helped you find a chair. If you were a dog half dead from starvation, I wouldn’t weigh whether you could catch rats before I bought you food. Why would I treat you worse than I would any of those?”
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Transgender
strider
No mourners, no funerals
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Post by strider on Aug 6, 2021 0:49:36 GMT -5
L was, once again, the strangest nobleman Orpheus had ever seen. Granted, he hadn’t seen very many, but the ones he had… they were the sort that would sooner hit a Skaa than they would let them walk past. They were cruel, and they felt the need to remind everyone around them every second of every day that they were better. That they were noble, so they could do nearly whatever they wanted. It was the power, Orpheus had surmised. Power made people cruel. It hardened their hearts and taught them that they deserved the power they held. That anyone who didn’t have that power just didn’t try hard enough. That they were degenerates, deserving of punishment. L wasn’t like that. It was odd, Orpheus thought, speaking with a nobleman who seemed to value his life despite not really knowing him. If more nobles were like L, Orpheus thought, the world would be a much kinder place to exist in. But the nobility continued to be cruel, and there was nothing either of them could do about it. “You wouldn’t,” Orpheus replied after a long moment, searching L’s gaze. “But that’s what makes you very different from most of the other nobility I’ve seen. They’re only looking out for themselves. They wouldn’t feed a dog that was useless to them. They wouldn’t help someone at a ball unless they were certain they could get something out of it.”
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Post by ®Hawkpath® on Aug 6, 2021 21:50:02 GMT -5
“Not yet. I have time,” Kelsier replied, dipping his head. He had long ago decided that being told to shut up meant he was onto something. Or maybe it just meant he’d caught someone’s attention. Which…usually meant he was onto something. Still. He wasn’t going to make Nico say it if he didn’t want to. A lot of people here had escape plans in their head. Especially the earlier ones. The later ones, if they were still alive, had either stubbornly held onto their plans, terrified of ever using them, as they were all they had left and if they failed… Or they’d already given up and were as good as dead. Neither option was one Kelsier intended to pursue. He wasn’t going to be stuck here that long. And neither, he decided, was Nico. “Safety in numbers,” he replied, turning his attention back to Nico and raising an eyebrow. “If you’re alone, yes. They could probably kill you. Pretending to be a geode isn’t such a bad idea, but you don’t really want it to work - if it were me, I’d rather not be swallowed - but if you’re not alone…” He smiled a little. “Say I’m as stupid as you think I am. You just admitted yourself that if they attack you, you’re dead. And I did just save your life. So why not use me for your own advantage?”
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Transgender
strider
No mourners, no funerals
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Post by strider on Aug 7, 2021 0:27:49 GMT -5
Nico’s eyes narrowed. Kelsier was clever. More clever than Nico had given him credit for. He frowned, trying to figure out how to respond. Trying to figure out if there even was such a thing as a proper response in a situation like this. He knew that they were both likely going to die down here, but he didn’t like the idea of dying sooner rather than later. He would much, much rather die later. He shook the thought off, doing his best to just… keep breathing. It wasn’t as easy as it seemed. It wasn’t easy at all, actually. This wasn’t the sort of place you were designed to be able to stay calm in. The way this place worked was that it killed your soul. One that was gone, ti got to work killing your body, which was much easier without a soul there to protect it. “Geodes are pretty hard to find,” Nico replied after a long moment, his expression unreadable. “Nobody will be able to swallow me if I keep myself hidden enough. But if you find two geodes together… they’re easier to find that way. Larger numbers might protect you better, but it also makes you more of a target.” Nico knew he was already a bigger target than Kelsier. If he were honest with himself, it was Kelsier who would be in more danger because of Nico, not the other way around. “I didn’t… I didn’t mean stupid like that,” Nico managed after a long moment. “Naïve, perhaps. Idealistic, without a doubt. But you’re not stupid. If you were stupid, you wouldn’t actually be talking to me. You wouldn’t be trying to do… whatever it is you’re trying to do here.”
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Post by ®Hawkpath® on Aug 7, 2021 16:35:16 GMT -5
Sal didn’t think there was really much chance of them ever seeing eye to eye on any of these things. Zuko…he believed, Sal thought, that the Lord Ruler was right. He believed at the very least that the Survivor wasn’t. As long he thought that…they could talk about scarred faces all they wanted. There was no hope of this ending with them as anything but enemies. There wasn’t any harm in this, though…right? He wasn’t going to let Zuko manipulate him. He was just…giving in for now because Zuko didn’t seem to want to shut up, and he didn’t have anything to tie around his mouth. And also, he didn’t know how to properly tie something around someone’s mouth without potentially killing them by accident. He had no intention of killing Zuko, intentionally or otherwise. He gave a tiny sigh. “Look…let’s pretend for now that I believe you’re being genuine and not just trying to manipulate me into letting my guard down,” he said finally. “While we’re at it, let’s pretend you aren’t trying to destroy hope. Fine. You have a scar, too. You probably do know what it’s like, better than most people.” He leaned back, regarding Zuko. He could just take his mask off right here and now, and prove by Zuko’s flinch that he was right. But he didn’t. “For what it’s worth…I don’t think you should have to cover your face if you don’t want to,” he said finally, voice unexpectedly soft. “I don’t know what happened to you, or when it happened, but…I was four, and my mom died, so I didn’t really have a lot of…people around, I guess. My dad didn’t really know what to do. He wasn’t coping well, and…seeing me all…different…just kept reminding him that she was gone, I guess. It was a lot easier if it seemed like I decided on my own to wear it, and I just wanted him to be able to be in the same room as me again, so…” He shrugged, trying to sound casual. “I just got used to it after that. Figured out pretty quick that people react differently to a masked face, rather than a ruined one.”
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