1. Beginning 2. Hatching 3. Weyrling 4. Guard 5. Craft 6. Apprentice 7. Journeyman 8. Master 9. Mentor 10. Crime 11. Punishment 12. Welcome!Taavetti and Gus 13. Home 14. ...what do we even do with all these tubers. neutral 15. Protection 16. Disaster 17. Miracle 18. A peaceful moment 19. Love 20. No other choice 21. Infirmary 22. Exile 23. I Love You 24. Hate 25. Revenge 26. Comfort 27. Peace 28. Orders 29. Forget 30. Loss 31. Found 32. Paradise 33. Victory 34. Sea 35. Dragon 36. Firelizard 37. Wher 38. Impression 39. Assignment 40. Aftermath 41. Feast 42. Celebration 43. Crush 44. Beyond Between 45. First date 46. Prank 47. Awkward 48. Hero Worship 49. Joy 50. Rest 51. Alone 52. Dark 53. Light 54. Memories 55. Innocence 56. Crackdust 57. Jealous 58. Friendship 59. Dance 60. Enemy 61. Betrayal 62. Confession 63. Pain 64. Reunion 65. Choices 66. Wish 67. Don't give up 68. Give up 69. Maturity 70. Childhood 71. Adulthood 72. Family 73. Alcohol 74. Hope 75. Between 76. Escape 77. Music 78. Life 79. Death 80. Puzzle 81. Glows 82. Sickness 83. Shard it! 84. Trapped 85. Warden's 86. Hopeless 87. Duty 88. Laughter 89. Fear 90. Too much klah 91. TogetherTaavetti and Gus 92. Rivals 93. Hunt 94. Jungle 95. One thing at a time 96. Silence 97. Those of the dark 98. First flight 99. Freedom 100. End
[short explanation: the idea is to write an entry for each of these themes. Feel free to steal the list, if you want. Some people say each entry should be under one hundred words, but I likes writing.]
Posted: Mon Dec 31, 2012 11:16 am
Welcome!
Welcome to Warden’s!
I’ve been here for some… what four or five turns now and on both sides of the bars, so I reckon I’ve got a pretty good view of everything that goes on. With this in mind, I’ve compiled a simple list of rules to obey:
Number one: never insult anyone who’s got control over your food supply. Even if they feed you, you don’t know if the meal that’s left the kitchen is the one you’ve got, if you get my drift. Two: Don’t make direct eye contact with any of the Healers. They’re like whers and take it as a challenge to their dominance. Three: Never say a Harper’s music is merely ‘nice’. As hilarious as it is to watch them huff and whine over how ‘nice’ doesn’t even begin to cover their artistic aesthetics, it never pays off. And, believe me, after a few hours of nothing but stone walls, you’ll want some entertainment. Four: Never compare anyone to a wher. Guards will just take it all personal and wherhandlers adore whers. We take it as a compliment, which means no matter how you’re trying to use the words (eg, as an insult or compliment), it never pans out. Five: All those people locked up in murderer’s block? Turns out they’re in there for a reason. Don’t let them out. No matter how sweetly they talk. Six: if, by chance, you are a new guard: we don’t have a dress code here, but it turns out nudity is not appropriate. Seven: neither are women’s underthings. Eight: I know, I’m shocked too. Nine: There’s also no official naked hour, despite my many requests. If you like, you can sign a petition. Ten: Whers are beautiful and mocking them is not a good idea. See, thing is, they speak Wher, but they listen in Human. Having your intestines chewed often offends. Eleven: Gus’ name is Gustav. Don’t argue with a large predatory murderbeast about what he likes to be called.
Just follow these rules, and you’ll probably end up just fine.
Taavi thought that being a prisoner was tough. And it was, don't get him wrong there. But there were worse things. At least as a prisoner you were all on the same side. Being a prisoner, on that side of the bars, gave you a very clear look at the world: there was this side and that side. Even if you hated the other guy in your cell, you were all on the same side, more or less. Taavi liked that mirror-clear simplicity. It made it easy to make friends.
Anyway, so long as you followed a few pretty simple rules, prison life wasn't horrible. It gave you a few meals a day for certain, a roof over your head and, if you were lucky, you might pick up a Craft or two.
It was being on the other side of the bars that was proving challenging.
Taavi splashed water over his face and examined his chin in the mirror before starting to shave very slowly. No need to rush into work. He was patrolling Gen Pop today. His heart didn't so much twinge as it did sink into a dark corner. His old home, if you could call such a place home. His old 'friends', if your definition of 'friend' was 'someone who never tried shanking him'.
And they weren't exactly happy with Taavi's switching sides.
Taavi ran the blade under the water to clean it. Another swathe of stubble vanished under the blade as he tried to avoid looking his reflection in the eye. Look, it was the only way he could survive, wasn't it? He couldn't exactly go and get a job outside the prison, nor could he survive inside, so becoming a guard made sense at the time. But that sort of thing didn't sit well with a certain kind of mind, the type that divided the world into Us vs. Them. That sort of mind wasn't interested in mere survival; it was interested in surviving the right way, by living by their rules. Or dying by them, of course.
The other guards weren't any better. Shards, a lot of them still thought of Taavi as Taavi-the-prisoner, not Taavi-the-guard-with-the-murderbeast.
“It must be like being a wher,” Taavi said out loud, since he was physically incapable of staying quiet for more than five minutes at a time. It was as though he was afraid the universe might not notice him if he spoke. Or, worse, that it was paying very close attention at all times. Gus, still lying on the pile of sacks that served as his nest, blinked without interest.
“It's like... everyone's waiting for a wher to snap. Don't trust the whers, because they're just one step away from killing everyone. I mean, of course you are, Gus. But that doesn't mean everyone else is.” Ok, so the metaphor really fell apart to the point where Taavi didn't even remember what it was a metter for. Whatever a 'metter' even was. He splashed more water on his face again, trying to enjoy the last few moments of peace he'd have all day.
“It wouldn't be so bad if they at least tried to make sure I didn't overhear 'em,” he commented. But he always heard them.
Traitor
That was to be expected, he supposed.
What wasn't so expected were the more sexual remarks.
Ready to bend over for just anyone, isn't he? Naw, I reckon he spends his time on his back. How loud do you think he moans for the Warden?
“s**t!” A bead of blood rose up where the blade knicked Taavi's skin. Just let his attention and his hand waver once and look what happened. He hissed as he splashed water on the minor cut. s**t, the tiny ones always hurt the most. Like all the pain of a larger wound was concentrated into a smaller area. Being friends with Vit was... well, it was good. It was fun.
Too bad it looked much worse to the inmates. Some of the other guards too.
Gus rumbled, a noise like rocks rubbing together. kill-protect-mine... he sent. The taste of blood flooded Taavi's mouth, another gift of the bond. Was it like that for all wherhandlers, or was he just lucky, he wondered.
“No,” he said firmly. “There's nothing wrong with just talking. You can't kill everyone who gossips.”
Because Gustav pulled his lips back and displayed his teeth, his expression was probably technically a smile. Pleasure pulsated through the bond. The blood taste increased and, despite having nothing in his mouth, Taavi felt the crunch of a bone between his teeth. “That wasn't a challenge!” he snapped. “I mean you just shouldn't kill everyone who gossips. Now if someone takes a knife to me, then you can kill 'em.”
Shards... it wasn't easy to explain complicated things to a wher, especially to a wher who had a very, very simple view of the world: there was Gustav, Taavi, and then Everyone Else. In Gus' mind, everyone else lived on mere sufferance that would end the second they bothered his handler. Then they would die in suffering.
“You're not exactly on Trustworthy Street either, Gus. They don't trust you any more than they trust me. Shards, they probably trust me just a bit more than you, simply because I don't try to bite through all my problems.” And Taavi didn't take a twisted delight in killing like Gus did.
The 'murderbeast' more than earned his name when a prisoner escaped. Or, rather, tried to. Gus didn't understand the concept of wounding someone and letting them live.
He understood killing.
He understood that very well.
Gus never chased anyone. He simply followed until they fell down, half mad and half dead from terror and exhaustion and he rose like a primeval beast from the deep and ended it.
He loved every second of killing.
The gigantic wher lumbered over to Taavi and put his massive head on his handler's knees, like a dog.
“It's just you and me, Gus. Always will be, I suppose,” Taavi murmured, scratching the wher's eye ridges. “You watch my back, and I'll watch yours. Maybe we'll even get out of here someday.”
The words held as much hope as a morgue blanket. There was no getting out of Warden's. It accepted everyone with open arms but when that big door closed, it was always closed. Now there was a metaphor for you. Welp. Couldn't sit around moping all day. Dabbing at his face one last time, Taavi whirled a hat onto his head and smiled at the mirror, head held high.
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