Closed To the Breaking Point (Vyvian)

[Scorn]

83 Fall, 513, midnight Scorn's frustration with Kalinor had become such a constant thing she was almost used to it. She did not belong here, but she belonged with her sister, and Scorn couldn't make Scourge see what a terrible place this was. The only consolation Scorn had, aside from the few male Zith who were also in the area, was her slave. Vyvian was one of the stick people, and Scorn knew that if she could get him to accept her, then she would not feel so out-of-place. Unfortunately, such a task had proved trickier than she'd wanted to believe. He was willfully disobedient, and did not seem to have a high regard for his own survival, so the obvious strategies for disciplining him were not very effective. In a normal colony, she would just eat him for his uselessness, but... she had so few companions here in this strange place. The previous night, she had attempted (and failed) to acquire one of the snacks known as "kittens" which rumor had it were just being given away. When the stick man refused to give her one, she knew it must be because she was Zith, an outsider in his world. She believed that if she sent Vyvian, the two stick men would see each other as family and happily trade kitten-snacks. Then, if all went well, Vyvian would give her the snack and she would reward him for such good behavior. Her ,plans suffered a minor setback when she could not find him in the cave she had left him in. Following his scent, she eventually found him in one of the stick man dwellings. It was tight and cramped, like most of their enclosures, and she resented being forced to confine herself in such a space. As a result, she was not in a very good mood when she found Vyvian. "You!" she snapped. "You will get me a 'kitten'."

[Vyvian]

Vyvian's home was, in a phrase, chaotically organised. At first glance the place looked like a bomb hit it, yet after some seconds of adjustment one could see that some hideous vague patterns were around. Tools arranged in order of size, composition, sharpness; Clothes in colour order, sometimes softness order. The floors remained scrupulously clear, with the exception of his boots, inconvenient for a Symenestra, yet he was never seen without them. Vyvian raised his eyes, but not his head, from his handiwork. A small wooden carving of Sosicly's face. Sighing, he retreated further behind his fringe and cast the whittling knife and wood onto his perfect made bed. Raising himself to his full height, he looked down at Scorn. His impassive mask of a face stayed as motionless as ever. "If I give you any credit for intelligence, I know you wouldn't dare intimidate me here. I'm surrounded by my own kind and you can't even fly in here." he chuckled drily. "Heck, I've even got my flying claw of death in the corner." he gestured vaguely to the corner where a wooden frame held his crossbow. Vyvian's gaze drew distant and he seemed to stare straight through Scorn as he thought. "So.... what do you want this kitten for Scorn? You hardly need a companion and a kitten will get in the way." Sitting softly back down he picked up his knife again, closed his eyes and carried on his work.

[Scorn]

Scorn bristled. The implication that she needed to rely on such a tiny morsel of food for companionship would have made her laugh if Vyvian had not been standing right there to prove it was true. And the idea that there existed any place where he was not her slave was an arrogance she could not allow. She was too angry to even be worried about his flying claw machine. She had to show him that he belonged to her, and he couldn't pretend otherwise by hiding in his own little cave. She could not hurt him without risking the loss of a companion, a rare and precious thing in this desolate place, but she could hurt his treasured possessions. Perhaps if he saw how weak they were, he would come to his senses and return to Scorn's cave. With an awful screech, she attacked his possessions, swiping her claws across his carefully arranged knick-knacks, sending tools scattering in all directions. If he moved toward the crossbow, she moved to intercept him, and she shoved him back roughly. Not satisfied with the small-scale havoc, she went outside, to where his cave was hung with cloth for no discernible purpose. Angrily, she slashed at the soft material, shredding it until it was unrecognizable, scraps falling to the cavern floor below.

[Vyvian]

x

Vyvian glanced up, his hair flopping back. He opened his mouth, then closed it and sighed.

Shaking his head he knelt down and slowly started gathering the permanently broken things into one pile and replacing the merely misplaced items where they were. There seemed to be some sorrow in his soulless eyes.

"Scorn, you try to remind me all the time how I'm meant to be your slave, yet you insist on treating me like a Zith. I'm sure one of your uhm... 'equals' would have reacted accordingly and attacked you back, but you don't seem to realise I'm not a violent person like you." he looked down and paused, his arms freezing like stone.

"Well... I'm hardly a pacifist but personal ahh 'relationships' will never be solved with violence."

After checking his crossbow was intact briefly, closing his eyes and running his fingertips over its surface, he returned to his hammok and flopped into it.

"Neither am I a materialist Scorn, so destroying possessions means nothing to me, they are all creature comforts in some form or another, they just ward the bad feeling away from me. I don't need them, in the same way you don't need me, you just like having me around."

A satisfied smile whispered across his mouth as he glanced sideways at Scorn's slight form in the doorway.

x

[Scorn]

He just kept talking. Murmuring in that ugly slave language so quietly that lesser ears might not be able to hear him. Even with her superior hearing, she had trouble understanding his words. He a used complex, winding sort of way of speaking, and his meaning was largely lost on Scorn. She fell back on interpreting his meaning through his posture and tone of voice, both of which were disturbingly unmoved by her outburst. She had done as much damage to his lodging as she could, and she was feeling winded, more from the emotional outburst than the physical exertion. She stood in the doorway, panting. She was abruptly hit with a moment of clarity. She was trying to get a pathetic stick man to... it didn't matter. The problem was that she cared what the stick man did. What was Kalinor doing to her? She spared one last glare of disgust for Vyvian, before stepping off the edge of his home and plummeting downward. She spread her wings and glided below the city, into caves that smelled more of Zith.

[Vyvian]

OOC: ready to grade

[Poison]

Scorn:
Skills: Intimidation 1
Lores: -

Vyvian:
Skills: Rhetoric 1
Lores: -

Notes: The thread was rather short, and there wasn’t a lot happening, so you don’t get any Lores and only 1 XP each. I hope you aren’t disappointed. Scorn, your point in imtimidation is for what you did to Vyvian’s possessions. Vyvian, your point in rhetoric is for telling Scorn personal problems will never be solved with violence. If you think I missed a skill somehow, let me know!

Despite its shortness, the thread was very enjoyable. I love reading about Scorn and her „slave“ Vyvian.

Vyvian, as I already told you, please put your grading requests in the Kalinor Requests thread in the future!

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