[Semi-Open] Eating Crow

Who: Cerrit Agrupnin and People that Should Know
What: Little Talks about a Big Deal
When: Backdated late August up until Dahlia's Gala
Where: Wherever Talks Happen
Warning(s): None yet

Cerrit's secret has been eating at him, and now it's time to let it out. If you work closely with him as an Enforcer or a member of the militia, or if you're good friends with Cerrit and you don't know about his deal with Aster yet, sometime in late August (post-Blight) or early September he's going to invite you for a private conversation.

The means may vary, the context may vary, but he has some things he needs to say.

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Cerrit decides to risk his dignity for the sake of humor, just to see Edgar's reaction.

"Until you need to wipe your ass."

Edgar's reaction is all that could be hoped for; he snorts with startled laughter, enough to nearly fumble the knife. (Only nearly, though; he's careful.)

"Not gonna ask how that works."

"Differently than humans." There's a wry laugh of his own. "Most of the time, I work hard to be civilized and as close to 'standard' humanoids as possible. You've caught me out when I'm following my instincts, instead."

"Ah, 'civilized.' 'S overrated, if you ask me."

(He's not joking, really. Too many times hearing the term civilized reserved for people who weren't him or anyone he knew.)

"Even when the alternative is not being taken seriously?"

The question is somehow not sharp, not pointed at all. There's an honest curiosity toward Edgar's viewpoint, and something vaguely sullen and defensive in the aftertaste. Eisfuura were rare in cities, and even rarer in Avalir, and his brethren living in mountain tribes...perhaps they were happier for their freedoms from things like parties and dress uniforms. Perhaps not.

Edgar shrugs, and there's maybe a touch of similar defensive sullenness under the flippancy of his answer. "Never figured they'd take us seriously anyway. Don't know about you."

"For me...they did. For years, so long as I dressed right, talked right, acted right. If I'd failed to live up to expectations, if I hadn't pulled off the act..." He's only ever really talked about this to Watson, before. He doesn't know why he's opening up now. Except, he does, just a little.

"This would never have been acceptable, back there. Any of this."

Edgar looks up at him from the messy butchering work, his face thoughtful.

"What's 'back there' then, for you?"

"The city of Avalir. It floated above the surface of the world, powered by magic. It was a center of enlightenment and culture. But my people were originally mountain-dwellers, in small communities of hunters, not...not the people who made Avalir possible."

"Avalir," he repeats. It sounds pretty. He wonders what it means.

"Did all your people go there, or just you?"

"Not all. Just a few families who thought they'd get more out of being part of 'society'. It was my parents who immigrated, not me."

He sounds so very neutral about their choice.

"Huh." He frowns back down at their work, focusing on it.

And adds, after a few moments: "Couldn't do that where I came from."

"Yeah? Is that something you want to talk about?" Look, he isn't going to force Edgar to talk about it, but it sounds like it's something weighing on his mind.

"I dunno."

A few moments of quiet work.

"It was a train." He sounds a little weary; this clearly isn't the first time he's told this to anyone. "They have those where you come from, or no?"

"No, not really. I've ridden on the trolley here, though. I understand the basic concept."

Though he's still a lot confused on how a train could be a place. Clearly it's not nearly as sensible as a floating fucking city.

"So when I was just a baby," his hands still moving as he speaks, continuing to work, "the whole world froze. And everything died except what was on this one big long train, running round the world. Din't happen all at once, and there was time for more people to get on. So if you had a first-class ticket, you were in the Front and got the best of everything. Economy ticket, you were in the middle and you got to work. And if you got on by lottery, you were in the Tail and you were nothing, is what. That was us."

Some say the world will end in fire,
Some say in ice.

Cerrit's eyes widen and his beak gapes as he hears this. It's...almost the exact opposite of his world, with Rau'shan and Ka'Mort being released to bathe the continent in fire, as everyone who could escape Avalir did in ships. Loquatius had ensured, with his trickery, that it wasn't only the rich and powerful who made it off, but Cerrit couldn't be certain what the future would hold for anyone from his home--or on the ground. Fire and ruin, for certain.

"Oh. I'm sorry."

He shrugs. "The ones at the Front, they told us everyone was in their rightful preordained position. So you didn't get to pick up and move to the Front, cause if you were in the Tail that's where you belonged."

Finished with the current part, he sits back on his heels. "There's a lot that was way fuckin worse, but it all came back to that in the end. Keep your place."

"It's a load of bullshit. I'm sure you don't need me to say that for you, but it is."

Cerrit turns the carcass, so they can work on the next section, shaking his head.

"And it's a lie that people tell in every world. Probably in this one at large, too."

Edgar nods at bullshit. No, he doesn't need anyone else to say it, but it's good to hear it echoed.

"Yeah, probably." He scrubs one wrist across his forehead, careful with the knife, and starts in on the next section. "Like even where you were, fancy floating city and that, they let your parents in but only if you acted like them, yeah? Like you'd always been there."

"Yes. Exactly. Here's the first place I've gotten to say 'fuck this, I'm going hunting' whenever I want. Where I don't need to live up to standards someone else set."

A pause. "You're getting close to the heart. Mind if I eat that raw?"

Edgar glances up, swiping absently at a smear of blood on his cheek, and grins.

"Enjoy it, man."

"I'd share if you wanted, but most humans don't do raw meat, even as fresh as this." The offer is open, though. He dislodges it from the ribcage, breaking a few of the bones with his beak to do so.

He shakes his head. "Thanks, but you have it. You said it's your favorite, after all, only fair."

"If you insist." He pauses just a moment longer before, well...it's not that he sheds the polite person act, he hasn't been wearing it while they talk. But he does let himself show even more of his feral ancestry, digging in with beak and talons.

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hate_gettin_older - 2024-10-20 03:13 (UTC) - Expand

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