Welcome to Gaia! ::

It was a night like any other. A faint drizzle had left the streets shining with reflected city lights, and steaming somewhat from the remnants of the day’s remarkable heat. The air had cooled considerably, leaving a tangy moistness in the air that felt like a faint sprits upon exiting any building. The temperate atmosphere was pleasant at worst and romantic at best, but the hustle and bustle of the city overwrote most of its pleasantries with the daily routine of Alternia.

Another night, another walk in New Hemisect City. However, for young Ganyma, this was no ordinary night. The troll wandered down a familiar street – and in its familiarity was an odd sense of the unknown. It wasn’t like Strochio to send him down the same street twice in one week – particularly one that he knew very well, and a popular main vein of New Hemisect to boot. Perhaps more strange, was no exercise – no twist. Strochio walked alongside his charge with vigilance, keeping a close distance but not pressuring the boy in any way. Strochio even held the bags from their trip to the grocery. Ganyma had wondered what scavenger hunt or long, lonely road he would be marching down alone when he left his hive with Strochio following suit. When he didn’t leave him, and when the two took the same roads and visited the same stores and rest stops, he couldn’t help but feel a pit of unease for a reason he couldn’t explain.

“This is what independence gets you.” Strochio thought, looming behind Ganyma. The boy had done well by him this sweep. His charge may have been a bumbling fool, but Strochio could recognize a glimmer of independence in him yet. While the appearance of his normal exercises was not present, this break was still a test. It was time to see if the child could pass.

“Mmm…” mumbled Ganyma. He looked around at the familiar storefronts, and back at his lusus. “Are you gettin’ hungry? I’m gettin’ hungry… If you wanna stop.”

Ganyma was tender with his words. With Strochio, every statement was asking for permission. And today, Ganyma was sure that his lusus could suddenly lose his niceness streak. However, the great ostrich was receptive. With an audible snort, the bird swiveled his head around, as if to say “Pick something and try me.”

Ganyma lit up. He got to choose? He got to choose! He whirled around, his eyes catching on a pastel-colored café on the far side of the road. It always looked beautiful and quaint, with fluffy pastries in the windows and little round tables to boot. Strochio sighed inwardly at his apparent choice, but eventually complied. The two were on their way.

There was a soft chime as the door opened and the young troll entered. Ganyma looked around with wonder, stepping into a world of soft, silky smells. There was a huge menu on the wall filled with names that the child didn't recognize. He deduced that some of them were drinks.

Smiling, Ganyma turned around to muse about the variety and the wafting scents to Strochio, but he had disappeared from behind him. He could vaguely see -- and now hear -- his lusus outside. He was crowing at some pigeons on the roof and near the streets, unwilling to step in to assist his charge in such a frivolous act of self-indulgence.

Ganyma didn't seem to notice. Strochio just wasn't hungry! He shrugged, still pleased by the friendly atmosphere of the cafe. The line proceeded in front of him -- soon he'd be in front. Ganyma analyzed the menu with a renewed sense of urgency. The new, unfamiliar beverage names swam in his mind. What was this? Imperial Nuttermug Elerniam Blend? Was that even legal? The troll shuffled forward another customer and a greenblood who looked to be as young as he stepped to the front. With a flourish and an inspiring aura of social grace, the boy ordered and purchased one of those flustersome beverages and a tasty looking pastry. He was then out the door.

Ganyma couldn't help but be envious of the boy, but was mostly impressed. So refined! He fit right in here. He really had a control of it. The tealblood thought in wonder of how he might be taught by the boy. He could learn to be refined. If he was all refined and whatnot, he could definitely get by! Better than get by! He could be rich! Or be a big important person! Strochio would be happy with that.

Ganyma looked out the window and spotted his lusus, who had calmed down a great deal and now sat dourly on the sidewalk like a scaly feather duster.

"What do you want?"

Oh no. It was time to order. Ganyma had done nothing but muse about the impossible nature of the menu. He froze, his eyes wide open and looking somewhere between the barbarista's forehead and the menu. His focus caught on the sweet treats, to the left of the beverages and pastries. The first thing he saw was --

"VANILLA"

Ganyma blurted out his order and slammed some beetles abruptly on the table, nearly damaging them. His other hand was pointing directly behind the barbarista, causing him to start as though the child had pulled a gun on him. After a moment of registration, he returned to bemusement.

"Uh--okay."

Ganyma took a lengthy gulp. Soon he found himself with a scoop of frozen udderbeast product, hand still shaking. You know what? This was good. Ganyma thought himself pretty good at making snap decisions. He smiled and headed out the door.

The tealblood hopped on each cobblestone, throwing his arms out with each leap towards the awning. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted the lump of his lusus squatted near the entrance to the café, and turned to smile broadly at him.

“I got the thing!” Ganyma yelped.

His lusus looked upon the child with little warmth. The child had spent his hard-earned pocket change on a dessert, no less. He should have known that giving the child a choice would end this way. He would learn nothing.

Ganyma skipped along, his treat threatening to drip down his already sticky fingers. There was the boy from the café – he hovered for a moment, remembering his ideas from the café to ask him for tips, and managed to flash a smile.

From behind them and looking increasingly monstrous, Strochio had begun to hiss. It was a low noise, but an increasingly intolerant signal of hostility that the charge would regret to ignore – or be unconscious of.

On a whim (he was doing rather well at that today), Ganyma turned on his heel and fully faced the boy, ready for conversation.

“Hell-OH!” He yelped. The momentum of his turn made the perilously drippy dessert slip off of its cone. He flailed about, putting out a hand, but couldn’t make it in time. With a plop, the scoop squashed against the pavement.

The hiss wavered. A layer of warbling accented the warning sound.

Ganyma frowned, clearly distressed. His only choice, and it was on the ground. He forgot about the boy momentarily and let out a cry of anguish, looking from his empty cone to the lost confection now melting and collecting the top crust of impenetrable dust and grime of New Hemisect City. Behind him, Strochio stretched to a standing position, his legs the only moving part of his hefty mass.

The troll was a little bleary-eyed, his mood soured instantly. He looked up at last to make eye contact with the greenblood, embarrassed and suddenly self-aware. “I—I… I dropped it,” he blurted. Ganyma’s cheeks turned bright teal. He could feel an odd thrumming that could have either been his lusus, now advancing, or the sinking of his pump biscuit deep in his chest.

“I’m s-sorry – I didn’t get any on you, did I?”

Ganyma wiped his eyes, keeping his frustration at bay. He peered to the ground to inspect the other boy’s feet – fortunately, the range of the dessert had missed his fine quality shoes by inches. A rather fortuitous stroke of luck.

“R-really?” Ganyma hesitated. He looked through bleary eyes at the greenblood while wiping away teal residue from his cheeks. Young Ganyma wouldn’t think to turn down charity. And that was his error that night.

The boy took the envelope in one hand gently, smiling with weak gratitude. Behind him, the haunting thrumming had reached its peak. Strochio was not amused.

Needy, useless fool.

Ganyma wilted under the familiar silhouette of his lusus. He whirled, trying to gesticulate to the ground and back to Strochio in explanation: “Strochio, I didn’t mean to– He was just –“

A muscular leg struck the boy across the upper torso. He lost his items in the process of holding his arms up to protect himself, and they fell together in a neat sugary pile. Ganyma’s eyes welled back up. That his gracious new acquaintance would see him like this was one thing, but for once, Ganyma understood Strochio’s attack. Direct response to a threat: not a threat of kindness, per se, but that of dependence. Ganyma was weak. He’d always be weak if he didn’t fight for himself. The young troll winced upon the ground next to the café as Strochio’s leg poised itself against the ground, and soon was met with a slashing claw near his face. He screamed.

“Stop it!” Ganyma picked himself up off of the ground, eyes overflowing. Strochio twisted his neck back and hissed.

You crave pity. You think you can fight back?

The ostrich struck like a venomous snake, shearing the side of his charge’s head with his sharp beak. He rapped once – twice – straight into his scalp with chaotic precision, so ferociously that the flailing of the troll seemed petty and useless, like movements of a ragdoll. Ganyma nearly fell over again, finding himself unable to balance.

“Stop!”

Another snap of the neck and a strike – the right side of Ganyma’s head received all of the slashes, his left hand covering the rest spattered with the fine mist of his blood that began to trickle down his scalp. Ganyma began to back away. The hive was not home. He wanted to run, though. Somewhere he could go. But where could he? Strochio had trained him to know the city – fear the city. Nothing is safe, nothing to be trusted. He couldn't make it on his own. So he was dependent. At the end of the night, he’d be back with Strochio.

“P-please!”

Just as I thought.

The ostrich whipped across Ganyma one last time. His hair was matted with the abuse, precise wounds wet and clumped under his no longer fuzzy down. “I’m s-sorry…” Ganyma murmured. He could barely squeeze the words out between hyperventilating wheezes. He was only vaguely aware of the patrons of the café, who had stopped their nightly meals to stare at the lesson in discipline being dealt to the child. But he was very aware of the greenblood. He was sorry. He was so sorry.

Strochio clacked his bloody beak together and turned the child around. With a thick kick to his back, Ganyma was forced to walk. If Ganyma made it back to the hive without passing out, he wouldn’t have to walk home alone. That would be a good lesson on independence.