Post by sesquipedalian on Feb 5, 2012 8:58:18 GMT 10
Title: Humanity
Prompt: 61: Odd man out
Rating: G
Summary: Daine struggles with being half. Set around WM/WS.
She wasn’t quite normal. She knew this, and accepted this, and was a little proud of it. But she still heard the talk from the Tortallans, man or woman, courtier or peasant. Freak, they said. Strange. Unnatural. Wild.
Daine couldn’t help but agree. She wasn’t quite like the rest of them. And that, in itself, afforded a sense of self-importance, of invincibility. She was the only one of her kind.
And yet, because of that, she couldn’t help but feel a little helpless.
It wasn’t the sort of helpless the damsel in distress felt in the minstrel show. She did not wish and would never have that sort of manufactured helplessness, the kind that you didn’t do anything about and caused you to sit around contemplating your helplessness. It was the sort of helplessness that made you feel vulnerable and weak, and then beat you to a pulp with your weakness and your vulnerability, laughing at your attempts to free yourself.
She still thought in terms of her pack sometimes, and she had never really mastered speech. Occasionally she could only hope that the expression she was displaying was the human one, and not the wolf one. At these moments she pretended that if she said everything right, if she acted mundanely, she’d be out of the helplessness again, but she knew she was lying to herself.
She’d never really been out of it, not around humans. There was something frightening and unpleasant about that. Like there was something wrong with her, eating up her soul, controlling her, making her strange, unnatural. Wild. Harmful.
This came up with Numair once, and she’d rather liked his response.
He’d greeted her by putting a hand on her shoulder, and, instinctively, she’d growled a greeting at him.
“Nice to see you too, Daine,” he replied, smiling, and although he pretended that everything was regular, she knew she’d done something wrong.
“Sorry,” she said immediately, ducking her head down in embarrassment, like a normal girl. “Still adjusting, I guess.”
“Nothing to be ashamed of,” he said kindly.
“Of course not,” she said, trying to smile as well.
“Daine. Look at me,” Numair commanded, but like almost everything about Numair, there was a blunt edge.
She met his eyes, and now they were serious.
“There’s nothing wrong with acting differently from other people. There is something wrong with thinking that means something. And don’t shake it off this time Daine, because I’ve seen you do this before. You shouldn’t think less of yourself just because others think less of you for being yourself.”
“I don’t,” she protested.
“Daine--” he began, and she cut him off.
“I just feel different,” she confessed, and then she could say it all. “They call me a freak, and they’re right. And I don’t mind that they’re right, but I’m just the only freak, the only girl with so much wild magic. It’s frightening. I feel as if I am not in control of myself.”
He put a comforting arm around her shoulders. “There’s no one quite like you, is there? No one you can share experiences with, no one who's been down as far as you. You’re not human, but you’re not People, either.”
Slowly, she nodded.
“You are a freak,” he said stoutly. “But do you know who else is?”
"Girls who pretend to be boys and learn how to use a sword instead of a needle. Barons who have all the knife scars of a criminal in the bowels of the city. Queens who look perfect and lovely but are so vocal in politics, so courageous in fighting, that they are called the Peerless. Black robe mages as well,” he added.
“Daine, there is no one quite like you. There is no one quite like anyone. And that’s one of the great things about people. They are all unique. Your flaws make you make your good qualities: your big heart, your intelligence, your hardiness. Everyone, at their core, is alone. They just pretend they aren’t. So you say you can’t control yourself? I’ll let you in on a big human secret: no one can. Humans look controlled and civilised, and they do it out of habit, out of choice. Acting like everyone else makes you think that you are not alone, and that makes you feel like you have the power of everyone, and that makes you think you have control over yourself.”
"They say that control—civilisation—is what divides humans from People, and it is. But it’s not as big a gap as it seems. You’re part People and part human, magelet. You’re a little less civilised. You may not act in precisely the same way as everyone else does. But how important is that, in the end?”
"Everyone’s on their own when it comes to knowing who they are. But it doesn’t mean they have to be on their own in everything,” he finished, and gave her a reassuring squeeze.
She wasn’t quite normal, but there was nothing like friends to stop her worrying about it.
Prompt: 61: Odd man out
Rating: G
Summary: Daine struggles with being half. Set around WM/WS.
She wasn’t quite normal. She knew this, and accepted this, and was a little proud of it. But she still heard the talk from the Tortallans, man or woman, courtier or peasant. Freak, they said. Strange. Unnatural. Wild.
Daine couldn’t help but agree. She wasn’t quite like the rest of them. And that, in itself, afforded a sense of self-importance, of invincibility. She was the only one of her kind.
And yet, because of that, she couldn’t help but feel a little helpless.
It wasn’t the sort of helpless the damsel in distress felt in the minstrel show. She did not wish and would never have that sort of manufactured helplessness, the kind that you didn’t do anything about and caused you to sit around contemplating your helplessness. It was the sort of helplessness that made you feel vulnerable and weak, and then beat you to a pulp with your weakness and your vulnerability, laughing at your attempts to free yourself.
She still thought in terms of her pack sometimes, and she had never really mastered speech. Occasionally she could only hope that the expression she was displaying was the human one, and not the wolf one. At these moments she pretended that if she said everything right, if she acted mundanely, she’d be out of the helplessness again, but she knew she was lying to herself.
She’d never really been out of it, not around humans. There was something frightening and unpleasant about that. Like there was something wrong with her, eating up her soul, controlling her, making her strange, unnatural. Wild. Harmful.
This came up with Numair once, and she’d rather liked his response.
He’d greeted her by putting a hand on her shoulder, and, instinctively, she’d growled a greeting at him.
“Nice to see you too, Daine,” he replied, smiling, and although he pretended that everything was regular, she knew she’d done something wrong.
“Sorry,” she said immediately, ducking her head down in embarrassment, like a normal girl. “Still adjusting, I guess.”
“Nothing to be ashamed of,” he said kindly.
“Of course not,” she said, trying to smile as well.
“Daine. Look at me,” Numair commanded, but like almost everything about Numair, there was a blunt edge.
She met his eyes, and now they were serious.
“There’s nothing wrong with acting differently from other people. There is something wrong with thinking that means something. And don’t shake it off this time Daine, because I’ve seen you do this before. You shouldn’t think less of yourself just because others think less of you for being yourself.”
“I don’t,” she protested.
“Daine--” he began, and she cut him off.
“I just feel different,” she confessed, and then she could say it all. “They call me a freak, and they’re right. And I don’t mind that they’re right, but I’m just the only freak, the only girl with so much wild magic. It’s frightening. I feel as if I am not in control of myself.”
He put a comforting arm around her shoulders. “There’s no one quite like you, is there? No one you can share experiences with, no one who's been down as far as you. You’re not human, but you’re not People, either.”
Slowly, she nodded.
“You are a freak,” he said stoutly. “But do you know who else is?”
"Girls who pretend to be boys and learn how to use a sword instead of a needle. Barons who have all the knife scars of a criminal in the bowels of the city. Queens who look perfect and lovely but are so vocal in politics, so courageous in fighting, that they are called the Peerless. Black robe mages as well,” he added.
“Daine, there is no one quite like you. There is no one quite like anyone. And that’s one of the great things about people. They are all unique. Your flaws make you make your good qualities: your big heart, your intelligence, your hardiness. Everyone, at their core, is alone. They just pretend they aren’t. So you say you can’t control yourself? I’ll let you in on a big human secret: no one can. Humans look controlled and civilised, and they do it out of habit, out of choice. Acting like everyone else makes you think that you are not alone, and that makes you feel like you have the power of everyone, and that makes you think you have control over yourself.”
"They say that control—civilisation—is what divides humans from People, and it is. But it’s not as big a gap as it seems. You’re part People and part human, magelet. You’re a little less civilised. You may not act in precisely the same way as everyone else does. But how important is that, in the end?”
"Everyone’s on their own when it comes to knowing who they are. But it doesn’t mean they have to be on their own in everything,” he finished, and gave her a reassuring squeeze.
She wasn’t quite normal, but there was nothing like friends to stop her worrying about it.
Maybe once we'd have seen it during Smackdown!