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breezeshadowTitle: Salve
Genre: Fantasy
The Troops: Nur <3
Status: Complete, but very rough
Rating: PG for ridiculous
Summary: Pets are good for your mental health. Even if you're a vampire and she's a chicken.
Prompt: Chicken
Author's Notes: This is ridiculous. xD
--
I love the funny looks people give me.
You get them a lot when you're not a human in Welen. The government has put a pretty hefty effort into their "Humans are the only awesome thing" policy, and between the descrimination laws, anti-descrimination laws, immigration laws, and anti-immigration laws, it has gotten to the point where all we can say is "This government has no freaking clue what it's doing, and you know what, we're going to be okay with that because that's all we can do."
Or that's my policy anyway. I think politicians have a different opinion. I wouldn't know; I don't believe in politicians. In that I refuse to believe they really exist.
Between that and my looks, I could make a pretty tidy profit off of people if I charged them for funny looks. Vampires aren't really known for their walking around in the daylight, considering we tend to catch on fire when we do that. But I discovered these beautiful things called robes, and if you wrap yourself in them until people can barely see you, suddenly you aren't combustible anymore. My personal favourite is this dark blue one, with silver sparkling thread that gives the affect of glittering stars. The hood its pale silver like the moon, and let's face it, it goes well with my blue eyes.
You can still tell I'm not human in this; I'm short, I don't walk like I'm used to this concept of "legs and arms" versus "just legs", and my furry and thus protected tail sticks out so it can provide me with balance. Also my wings will spread out something and rustle the robe; supposedly the fabric could handle it if I stretched them out completely, but I don't feel like ruining it in a test run.
So I drape myself in this until my snout just meets the wide hood, and off I go. I'm always a little nervous stepping out -- instincts are powerful things, memories even more so. But I just need to breathe a few times, and tap into my telepathy, realize how easily I could teleport away -- and just hold up my robed arm and remind myself that see, no burning.
Some days it doesn't work and then I flee back indoors and bitch with other vampires who also failed the Daylight is Okay test. But most days once I'm out there and grinning at random confused humans, I'm fine.
That day, I wasn't entirely okay with it.
Oh I pretended I was. Pretending is easy. You just smile and nod and block out your mind. You don't have to put that much effort into it around humans -- most of them don't have strong latent telepathy, and a small lock keeps them from seeing something you'd rather keep hidden. And that day, I was hiding fear.
This was weird to me. You see, I thought I had gotten over this. Yes, humans attacked me. Humans almost killed me. But humans also saved my ass. Humans nursed me back to health, worked through my crippling emotional crash, and got me back to mostly functional. Humans in this country employed me, gave me my food, and were some of my best friends. Humans were pretty okay.
That day humans were frightening threats. That day, humans were what they had been that morning -- the enemy, a horrifying enemy skulking in the daylight, ropes in their hands and hate in their minds.
Which was pretty stupid, because I knew, logically, that most of the humans on the street were either viewing me with curiosity, general disinterest, or fear -- more than one was nervous of me, of what I would do. Maybe one or two humans looked at me with distaste, but as far as my mind was concerned, that was good enough.
I needed a distraction. Otherwise I felt like I would start screaming and curl into a ball trying to teleport. It's not a good way to make friends.
Heading to the shopping district when I was terrified of humans wasn't the wisest decision, I knew, so I turned down toward the backalleys. There were some shops there -- less fresh bartered goods, more things you had to really want to look for them. And then, I knew, there was the pet shop.
Not the usual pet shop. That one bartered in public, with dogs that could demonstrated right in the public how polite, strong, or intelligent they were. If you wanted a dog, you went to the market. If you wanted a useful, resourceful cat, you went to the market. If you wanted something completely absurd that wasn't useful but hell it was fun to talk about, you went into the alleys and picked up a rat from the corner.
For anything else, it was rumoured, this place had it. Owned by a farmer, they said, who took animals no good for slaughter and instead of throwing them away, gave them to the public. And for some reason, I really wanted to just be surrounded by animals.
So I found it and entered. And almost stepped on a chicken.
It glared at me in return and fluttered off.
Oh it was on. I slipped back my hood and delivered my best "You should know better than to have been there, you foolish animal" stare, making sure it could feel my disapproval. It usually got dogs cowering within five seconds.
The chicken ignored me. I tried harder. It ruffled its feathers and looked at me tiredly.
"She's a stubborn one."
I jumped nearly out of my robes, wings suddenly snapping out -- to its credit, the fabric stretched as promise, and an entire set of constellations in silvery needlework spread out, faint under the lanterns of the shop. So that's why they wanted me to spread my wings so badly when I bought it. I'd have to thank them when I wasn't busy trying not to bark and cackle at a shop owner; the latter in particular tended to unsettle humans awfully fast.
"Sorry, sorry." The middle-aged man held up his hands, calloused and rough, smiling without showing teeth and meeting my gaze, though with a rather sleepy expression. "Didn't mean to scare you."
I met his gaze without blinking, and then it clicked in my brain -- eye contact. Most humans avoided eye contact when they realized they had startled something. Or they stared in shock, as if that helped. This guy looked like he was barely staying awake, but I could feel the energy coming from him.
He knew vampires. Quite well, in fact. You found out about the little eye contact details either with a vampire friend, or the unfortunate way, when you stare at a pissed vampire and suddenly it's barking and swatting at you. It turns out humans don't like being smacked, even if they are being idiots.
I folded my wings down, smiling as best I could. "It's fine."
"Can I help you with something?" The human did not come out from behind the desk, leaving the heavy wooden object between us; a relief. He couldn't easily lift that, but I could, if he threatened me. Pin him and run, my brain whispered.
"I want a pet." I knelt down on the floor and clucked at the stubborn chicken; she did not even acknowledge my presence. "A small pet. Easy to care for."
"I have a few hedgehogs here." the man walked over to a wooden cage that he patted gently. "Couple of geckos, a few snakes. And way too many chickens."
He did have an infestation on his hands in that regard; I couldn't help but chuckle through my nervousness. "Yeah I'm not sure I could walk over to pay for anything. What the hell happened?"
"Very enthusiastic roosters." And we both laughed at that, my shoulders finally relaxing as the farmer shook his head. "I have never had this many chickens born before. Maybe I should blame the hens instead."
"They produce the eggs. I'd blame them." I stepped delicately over the hordes of feathers, approaching the stubborn little beast that was still pretending to ignore me. Pretending, I knew, because I could feel her distaste toward me, a new thing in her midst, and one she suspected may eat her. "How old is this one?"
"One year. The chicks usually go fast but, well, you can probably see why no one wants her." The farmer chuckled again, leaning over the desk to stare at the chicken. "She is like this to everyone. Wants only me, gets madly jealous of anyone else."
She was, as I considered it, a large hen -- sleek black, ticked grey feathers, solidly built. The small comb on her head was a rich red, and her eyes a rich amber. A lovely bird, overall -- with the attitude to match, of course.
"Come on, you, I know you're keeping an eye on me." I knelt down and held out my hand -- even pulled back my robe so the beast could see that I held nothing, and even had my claws withdrawn like a polite vampire should. "Come on, come here."
The chicken glanced at me, shifting her position. Oh, she was curious, but not necessarily in a good way.
So I teleported grain into my hand.
Let me tell you: never do that when surrounded by more than a dozen chickens. I didn't get to just meet the stubborn chicken. I got meet all of them.
Eventually the farmer was beside me guffawing, having pulled me up from the mob as he spread out more grain to distract them. I leaned against the desk, looking at the little peck marks all over my robe and the little tufts of fur missing from my tail -- and just laughed, brushing feathers from my robe, shaking off, trying to find whatever dignity I had just sacrificed to a pile of birds.
And then I saw who had flown onto the desk and was staring at me.
"Oh sure, I have to go and embarrass myself and then I'm worthy? Hm?" I met the chicken's cool gaze. She didn't look away. "You are the worst prey animal ever."
Then I reached out and she let me pet her. Even clucked a bit and shifted just a tiny bit more in my direction. Had to be knocked off of my high horse before I was worthy to a chicken. I figured I was okay with that.
"So how much?" I kept my eyes on the chicken. Just in case she changed her mind.
"A silver should cover it, and help cleaning this mess." In an instant I had the mess of grain and feathers gone; I'd explain the pile on the couch at home to Rose May later. The farmer chuckled softly as I teleported a silver coin into his hand. "Excellent doing business with you guys, as always."
I smiled as I picked up the chicken, letting her feel how calm and unthreatening and cheerful I was; she didn't struggle. "How many of us have come around?"
"Enough for me to know that you guys really like the weird animals." The farmer grinned and then nodded at me. "Have a good day. No returns, now."
"Of course." And then I took the chicken and I home the best way: by teleporting back.
We landed on the couch to Rose May staring at us, blinking, her bag still slung over her shoulders.
"So what's her name?"
And that's when I knew I'd be all right. Because when your human housemate doesn't even ask why you teleported a chicken, a bunch of feathers, and grain onto the couch, you know you've found an okay species.
Genre: Fantasy
The Troops: Nur <3
Status: Complete, but very rough
Rating: PG for ridiculous
Summary: Pets are good for your mental health. Even if you're a vampire and she's a chicken.
Prompt: Chicken
Author's Notes: This is ridiculous. xD
--
I love the funny looks people give me.
You get them a lot when you're not a human in Welen. The government has put a pretty hefty effort into their "Humans are the only awesome thing" policy, and between the descrimination laws, anti-descrimination laws, immigration laws, and anti-immigration laws, it has gotten to the point where all we can say is "This government has no freaking clue what it's doing, and you know what, we're going to be okay with that because that's all we can do."
Or that's my policy anyway. I think politicians have a different opinion. I wouldn't know; I don't believe in politicians. In that I refuse to believe they really exist.
Between that and my looks, I could make a pretty tidy profit off of people if I charged them for funny looks. Vampires aren't really known for their walking around in the daylight, considering we tend to catch on fire when we do that. But I discovered these beautiful things called robes, and if you wrap yourself in them until people can barely see you, suddenly you aren't combustible anymore. My personal favourite is this dark blue one, with silver sparkling thread that gives the affect of glittering stars. The hood its pale silver like the moon, and let's face it, it goes well with my blue eyes.
You can still tell I'm not human in this; I'm short, I don't walk like I'm used to this concept of "legs and arms" versus "just legs", and my furry and thus protected tail sticks out so it can provide me with balance. Also my wings will spread out something and rustle the robe; supposedly the fabric could handle it if I stretched them out completely, but I don't feel like ruining it in a test run.
So I drape myself in this until my snout just meets the wide hood, and off I go. I'm always a little nervous stepping out -- instincts are powerful things, memories even more so. But I just need to breathe a few times, and tap into my telepathy, realize how easily I could teleport away -- and just hold up my robed arm and remind myself that see, no burning.
Some days it doesn't work and then I flee back indoors and bitch with other vampires who also failed the Daylight is Okay test. But most days once I'm out there and grinning at random confused humans, I'm fine.
That day, I wasn't entirely okay with it.
Oh I pretended I was. Pretending is easy. You just smile and nod and block out your mind. You don't have to put that much effort into it around humans -- most of them don't have strong latent telepathy, and a small lock keeps them from seeing something you'd rather keep hidden. And that day, I was hiding fear.
This was weird to me. You see, I thought I had gotten over this. Yes, humans attacked me. Humans almost killed me. But humans also saved my ass. Humans nursed me back to health, worked through my crippling emotional crash, and got me back to mostly functional. Humans in this country employed me, gave me my food, and were some of my best friends. Humans were pretty okay.
That day humans were frightening threats. That day, humans were what they had been that morning -- the enemy, a horrifying enemy skulking in the daylight, ropes in their hands and hate in their minds.
Which was pretty stupid, because I knew, logically, that most of the humans on the street were either viewing me with curiosity, general disinterest, or fear -- more than one was nervous of me, of what I would do. Maybe one or two humans looked at me with distaste, but as far as my mind was concerned, that was good enough.
I needed a distraction. Otherwise I felt like I would start screaming and curl into a ball trying to teleport. It's not a good way to make friends.
Heading to the shopping district when I was terrified of humans wasn't the wisest decision, I knew, so I turned down toward the backalleys. There were some shops there -- less fresh bartered goods, more things you had to really want to look for them. And then, I knew, there was the pet shop.
Not the usual pet shop. That one bartered in public, with dogs that could demonstrated right in the public how polite, strong, or intelligent they were. If you wanted a dog, you went to the market. If you wanted a useful, resourceful cat, you went to the market. If you wanted something completely absurd that wasn't useful but hell it was fun to talk about, you went into the alleys and picked up a rat from the corner.
For anything else, it was rumoured, this place had it. Owned by a farmer, they said, who took animals no good for slaughter and instead of throwing them away, gave them to the public. And for some reason, I really wanted to just be surrounded by animals.
So I found it and entered. And almost stepped on a chicken.
It glared at me in return and fluttered off.
Oh it was on. I slipped back my hood and delivered my best "You should know better than to have been there, you foolish animal" stare, making sure it could feel my disapproval. It usually got dogs cowering within five seconds.
The chicken ignored me. I tried harder. It ruffled its feathers and looked at me tiredly.
"She's a stubborn one."
I jumped nearly out of my robes, wings suddenly snapping out -- to its credit, the fabric stretched as promise, and an entire set of constellations in silvery needlework spread out, faint under the lanterns of the shop. So that's why they wanted me to spread my wings so badly when I bought it. I'd have to thank them when I wasn't busy trying not to bark and cackle at a shop owner; the latter in particular tended to unsettle humans awfully fast.
"Sorry, sorry." The middle-aged man held up his hands, calloused and rough, smiling without showing teeth and meeting my gaze, though with a rather sleepy expression. "Didn't mean to scare you."
I met his gaze without blinking, and then it clicked in my brain -- eye contact. Most humans avoided eye contact when they realized they had startled something. Or they stared in shock, as if that helped. This guy looked like he was barely staying awake, but I could feel the energy coming from him.
He knew vampires. Quite well, in fact. You found out about the little eye contact details either with a vampire friend, or the unfortunate way, when you stare at a pissed vampire and suddenly it's barking and swatting at you. It turns out humans don't like being smacked, even if they are being idiots.
I folded my wings down, smiling as best I could. "It's fine."
"Can I help you with something?" The human did not come out from behind the desk, leaving the heavy wooden object between us; a relief. He couldn't easily lift that, but I could, if he threatened me. Pin him and run, my brain whispered.
"I want a pet." I knelt down on the floor and clucked at the stubborn chicken; she did not even acknowledge my presence. "A small pet. Easy to care for."
"I have a few hedgehogs here." the man walked over to a wooden cage that he patted gently. "Couple of geckos, a few snakes. And way too many chickens."
He did have an infestation on his hands in that regard; I couldn't help but chuckle through my nervousness. "Yeah I'm not sure I could walk over to pay for anything. What the hell happened?"
"Very enthusiastic roosters." And we both laughed at that, my shoulders finally relaxing as the farmer shook his head. "I have never had this many chickens born before. Maybe I should blame the hens instead."
"They produce the eggs. I'd blame them." I stepped delicately over the hordes of feathers, approaching the stubborn little beast that was still pretending to ignore me. Pretending, I knew, because I could feel her distaste toward me, a new thing in her midst, and one she suspected may eat her. "How old is this one?"
"One year. The chicks usually go fast but, well, you can probably see why no one wants her." The farmer chuckled again, leaning over the desk to stare at the chicken. "She is like this to everyone. Wants only me, gets madly jealous of anyone else."
She was, as I considered it, a large hen -- sleek black, ticked grey feathers, solidly built. The small comb on her head was a rich red, and her eyes a rich amber. A lovely bird, overall -- with the attitude to match, of course.
"Come on, you, I know you're keeping an eye on me." I knelt down and held out my hand -- even pulled back my robe so the beast could see that I held nothing, and even had my claws withdrawn like a polite vampire should. "Come on, come here."
The chicken glanced at me, shifting her position. Oh, she was curious, but not necessarily in a good way.
So I teleported grain into my hand.
Let me tell you: never do that when surrounded by more than a dozen chickens. I didn't get to just meet the stubborn chicken. I got meet all of them.
Eventually the farmer was beside me guffawing, having pulled me up from the mob as he spread out more grain to distract them. I leaned against the desk, looking at the little peck marks all over my robe and the little tufts of fur missing from my tail -- and just laughed, brushing feathers from my robe, shaking off, trying to find whatever dignity I had just sacrificed to a pile of birds.
And then I saw who had flown onto the desk and was staring at me.
"Oh sure, I have to go and embarrass myself and then I'm worthy? Hm?" I met the chicken's cool gaze. She didn't look away. "You are the worst prey animal ever."
Then I reached out and she let me pet her. Even clucked a bit and shifted just a tiny bit more in my direction. Had to be knocked off of my high horse before I was worthy to a chicken. I figured I was okay with that.
"So how much?" I kept my eyes on the chicken. Just in case she changed her mind.
"A silver should cover it, and help cleaning this mess." In an instant I had the mess of grain and feathers gone; I'd explain the pile on the couch at home to Rose May later. The farmer chuckled softly as I teleported a silver coin into his hand. "Excellent doing business with you guys, as always."
I smiled as I picked up the chicken, letting her feel how calm and unthreatening and cheerful I was; she didn't struggle. "How many of us have come around?"
"Enough for me to know that you guys really like the weird animals." The farmer grinned and then nodded at me. "Have a good day. No returns, now."
"Of course." And then I took the chicken and I home the best way: by teleporting back.
We landed on the couch to Rose May staring at us, blinking, her bag still slung over her shoulders.
"So what's her name?"
And that's when I knew I'd be all right. Because when your human housemate doesn't even ask why you teleported a chicken, a bunch of feathers, and grain onto the couch, you know you've found an okay species.
