multiversallogs | (no subject)

"I've not been turned into a human." Shrieky replied, but without any real ire in his tone, "I was made to grow legs, and my gills stopped working, but neither of those qualities are human exclusive." He's aware that it's not really an answer to Jae's question, but that one's... a little complicated, if he's perfectly honest.

He takes a few steps out into the water, and waits for it to roll in over his feet and ankles letting the still sensitive skin acclimatize to the temperature before dashing in deeper. It's cold. Colder than the river had been. Colder than the moat had ever felt.

"I've not talked to anyone about it." He confessed, edging forward a little further, "This probably sounds strange, but... did you ever miss something, but at the same time, really desperately not want it back?"

If Jae was someone else, he might talk about human privilege, here, but he isn't so he won't; he doesn't want to not look human, either.

He thinks for a little while before answering. As he does, he rolls up his white yoga pants to his knees, careful. "Yes," he admits, and then stands back up. "It's always very bittersweet."

Shrieky leans down to roll up his own trouser legs, mimicking Jae's movement. "That's how I feel about it. It's like... if you spent your life, not being able to see, so your hearing became incredibly strong, and well attuned? Then one day, you woke up, and suddenly you could see everything, but your special hearing was gone. I miss it greatly, but I would never give up what I got in exchange."

Fabric protected from the water, Shrieky takes a few more steps, letting the water rise up to his calves.

"I understand." And he does; Jae's had enough experiences in small degrees (and one large one) to equate it. Still, he thinks it's awfully unfair that this man has had his entire species toyed with. You'd think there'd be someone in Baedal who could figure out a button to turn it on and off. (He thinks again of the number he got from Hellsing he's supposed to call, somewhat guilty.)

Jae digs his toes into wet sand, and watches as... neon turquoise sand crabs? ... dig into the sand as well. ... Okay. Vaguely alarmed, he moves one foot.

Anyway.

"There could be worse places to experience life above water. You get stuff from a million worlds."

Shrieky nods, taking a few more steps out. A neon turquoise sand crab skitters over one of his feet, and he glances over his shoulder, shooting Jae a loose little smile, "I do like it here. I don't want you to think that I'm unhappy at all, because I'm not."

He's still smiling when he looks back down, shifting up onto his toes, as a particularly high wave creeps up towards his knees, "I know that people don't take the pamphlet seriously, and I assume that it makes sense not to believe it, but what I heard from it, I thought was good. About being lucky to have been brought here. Being chosen. I would like to believe those things."

"I'm sure there's plenty of people who believe it. Maybe even the people who wrote it."

People are born here, people put a lot of heart and soul into Baedal even before that; someone loved it enough, over five hundred years ago, to name it after a sacred Korean city. He can't ignore that.

"To some of us, though, we've been kidnapped from our homes and lives. I don't hate it here. But there's a lot I miss."

And the looming reality of being trapped doesn't help.

"I understand that." In the very first conversation he'd had here with Narcissa, she'd made it clear that she felt great grief about being removed from her home. There's still a small part of him that finds it ironic to hear about how upsetting humans find having been kidnapped, but he's getting better at hiding that part of him. This is why, when he turns to face Jae directly, he looks genuinely sympathetic.

"Was it very different where you came from? What kind of things do you miss?"

Well, it's certainly not only humans that are ticked off at being kidnapped.

"The city I lived in is bigger than this. The technology is more advanced. I could travel to other cities and countries, and I did. I miss my co-workers, my career, my neighbor and her cat. I miss my family."

That last bit is quieter. It's not like he was speaking to him - he'd let them believe he'd died, years ago - but somehow now that the option to ever contact them again has been removed, the choice torn away even if he'd never take it, is just so much worse.

There's an unkind little urge in Shrieky's stomach, which hovers somewhere between jealousy, vindictiveness and guilt. Jae just named a lot of things that sounded extremely nice and that it was very normal and understandable for him to miss. It just so happened that there was literally no reason why Jae should have been allowed to have those things in the first place!

...Unless you counted the fact that he was clearly an extremely good person who was entitled to be happy, and that was where the guilt came in.

"I'm sorry." Thankfully, the feeling that carries through to Shrieky's voice is regret, "That sounds like... a great deal of things to lose, in exchange for something which I'm sure is less valuable."

"I don't know yet."

The edges of the waves only touch his feet briefly before they recede; he doesn't feel like going out much further, though he does crouch down to get a closer look at the colorful little crabs darting into the sand as the water brings them up.

"Maybe I'm here for a reason. I don't want to squander that. But it's been hard so far."

"People have been being brought here for centuries," Shrieky points out, "If you're here for a reason, it might not become an obvious one until a hundred years from now."

On the surface, that doesn't sound like the most inspiring of insights, so he decides to expand upon it, "...What I mean is, I don't think you should worry about squandering anything. Even if you are here for a reason, it's not as if you were consulted before being brought here, or as if you owe any kind of fealty to destiny, or any other force that sees fit to estrange you from your life and family."

He sloshes back through the water, out onto the shore, and begins the process of shedding his sweat pants and t-shirt. He might not be planning on going out deep into the water, but he kind of wants to sit down in the shallows.

"I think," he continues, muffled briefly by the fabric of his t-shirt, "That you should just do what you want, and do what seems like a good idea at the time, and try to be happy. And if you can't be happy, then don't be." Now freed from the garments, he looks back to Jae, "You don't owe that to anyone either."

You're going to get pneumonia, he thinks, in Shrieky's direction, but doesn't say it. He knows it'd be derailing; even something as simple as 'just wait and see and don't stress out over it' would require acknowledging his issues. Even to set them aside, it seems like too daunting of a task.

It should say something that a guy who can't walk down stairs is right about something of this magnitude. It should say (scream, yell, blast from a boombox into his face) that Jae is DOING IT WRONG. But that's the problem with suppressed trauma. It doesn't adhere to logic.

"You're probably right." He's totally right. Maybe Jae will actually call that Hellsing guy tonight.

(Nope.)

Shrieky paces a few feet out, deep enough into the water that it laps at his knees, then he drops down into a crouch so that it rises up to his chin. This feels nice, being submerged again.

"I think I am. Perhaps it becomes easier to live here if you don't put so much pressure on yourself?"

He wades his arms through the water slightly, maintaining his balance.

"Some pressure is okay. It can be motivating."

Otherwise, what if he got complacent or apathetic, and had to stay in the Spatters, or the Inn? Eff that. Jae would rather be stressed out and employed. He wouldn't have his apartment without being overly paranoid, either.

A little crab is floundering around near his foot, so Jae pushes some sand on it. There.

"There's something for everyone here, at least."

"Can it? I never really noticed."

Living in a moat has never left Shrieky with too many options for upward mobility, so pressure has never seemed like a particularly useful tool in his arsenal of things to feel.

"Maybe if you just separated the things which you can do something about, from the things that you can't do anything about, and only pressured yourself in a practical way, that would be better?"

He leans forward, letting the water splash up over his lips and shoulders, before lifting his face up again, "So what is it you do here? Do you have employment?"

"Well, that's what everybody tries to do, really." But some pressures come from outside forces, and... Jae's already getting a headache. He refused to go back to an academic lifestyle for a reason.

"I do. I work in a couple of clubs, and at a radio station. I have an apartment. I worked hard so that I could be out on my own as soon as possible." ... Immediately, really; Jae spent a couple of days without a roof over his head, but he hadn't slept for the first few days he was in Baedal, so. "Do you like it at the Inn?"