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rainbowfic2025-07-23 03:24 pm
paradoxcase) wrote in rainbowfic2025-07-23 03:24 pm
Dogwood Rose #5, Realgar #9 [The Fulcrum]
Name: Apologies
Story: The Fulcrum
Colors: Dogwood Rose #5: yellow: jealousy, Realgar #9: Escort
Styles and Supplies: Life Drawing, Graffiti (Disability Pride Month), Glue ("Stop trying to feel everyone else's emotions and focus on yours, Leo. Being empathetic is certainly laudable, but at some point you need to face the music and look in the mirror. Make a clear distinction between your needs and those of others. Express your feelings. Ask for help if you need it. Other people aren't mind readers. They probably have no idea what you're feeling."), Novelty Bead ("bend", given here)
Word Count: 1346
Rating: G
Warnings: None
Characters: Setsiana, Cyaru, Qhoroali, and the old man from earlier
Summary: Tensions are resolved in the wake of the attack.
Setsiana’s nerves were still on end, and they walked slowly, quickly falling behind the others. “I wanted to apologize to you,” said Cyaru.
Setsiana looked at him with some surprise. “For what?”
“For the way I’ve been treating you, the few times we’ve interacted. I’ve probably given you a terrible impression of myself.”
Setsiana shook her head. “I was part of an organization that was kidnapping and enslaving your people,” she said. “I get it.”
“Yeah,” he said, “that was part of it, definitely, but Qhoroali has explained a bit more about what your role in that organization was, and I believe that you were not responsible for any of it. And you were a victim of kidnapping yourself, and I wasn’t helping any. You could have turned us over to the priesthood, twice now, actually — first when we returned you, and now again to these priestesses who came here — and you didn’t. So I don’t bear any ill-will toward you about that, anymore. I believe you’re on our side in this.” He paused and they walked in silence for minute, but he opened and then closed his mouth several times, as if he had more to say, so she waited.
“The other part of it is very stupid,” he said, finally, “and I hope you can forgive me for it. Lise… she is constantly making jokes about priestesses, and how they are all sleeping with each other, you have to understand.”
Setsiana stiffened. “Because of me, you mean?”
“Not because of you. She’s been doing it for the whole time I’ve known her, long before we ever met you. Partly because they are our enemies, you know, but it’s also just her favorite joke. She has some in-joke about it with Qhoroali, too, because I gather Qhoroali used to be a priestess, or something near enough. I always got the feeling that there was some history there, some experience they’d had with each other, or some attraction, and if there had been, it would have been just from Lise’s side, because… well. That’s not my story to tell, so you’ll just have to take my word on that. It’s a little beside the point, because I was wrong about that. But I always wondered about her a little, you know?”
“She is not interested in women,” Setsiana said, her voice tight. “She’s just very good at pretending.”
He turned his head, and looked at her under the light of the street lamps. “I guess she has hurt you too, with her games,” he said. “To whatever extent I can, I apologize on her behalf.”
“I’ll wait until I hear it from her.”
Cyaru sighed. “Alright. But, as I was saying… after you came along, of course she was making jokes about you. And I saw how you looked at her… I thought— you’re both very pretty. I thought you might try to take her from me, and that she might go with you. One day she told me about how you had almost kissed her, and I finally said something to her, which in retrospect was something I should have done a long time ago, and she got very serious about it for once and cleared everything up, and I’m not worried about that anymore. But for a while, that was what I thought, and that’s part of why I was so hostile towards you. I was wrong, and I’m sorry.”
Setsiana walked in silence for a minute, and then said, “Alright. I can forgive you for that, and setting aside that whole second part, I believe you had a good reason to dislike me. But if Liselye wants my forgiveness, she’ll have to ask me herself.” She hesitated a moment. “I feel like I should apologize, too, actually. I had a knife with me for a while, and I was planning to stab you with it. I dreamed about it. The only reason I didn’t was that I couldn’t work up the nerve.”
“Yeah,” he said. “Qhoroali did tell me about that, and I can understand why you wanted to do that. I don’t bear you any ill-will for it.”
They were approaching the long building again, and several people were clustered at its entrance. One of them called out to Cyaru, and he sighed. “That’s my dad,” he said. “I suppose I have to go say hi to him. I think you should know… what the guy in there said about us isn’t entirely true. I mean, it’s true that the city folk tell lies about us, but some of the other things they say about us are true. It’s kind of like any small town, really — if you’re well-liked, everyone in the town is a real standup guy, and if you’re not, you have a different experience. There’s a reason I abandoned this timeline for yours, even though people are taught to hate us there. It doesn’t mean these people don’t deserve our help, it’s… just not that black and white.” He left her and went to the group near the doors.
Setsiana went back inside the building; it seemed like the safest place to be. Qhoroali was there, with her bandaged arm, talking to the old man, or rather, it seemed, he was yelling at her. Setsiana moved closer.
“I say this in your language so you understand me,” the old man was shouting, in QuCheanya, “You are supposed to be helping, but you come here and bring these kidnappers, these slavers, down on us. We haven’t seen them for years, and now suddenly they are back again, because of you.”
Qhoroali seemed frozen, tensed and frightened, with her hands clutched up near the sides of her face, and Setsiana realized it was the volume of his voice — she wanted to cover her ears, but thought it would be rude. She stepped up beside Qhoroali and addressed the old man. “I’m sorry,” she said. “This is all my fault. I was told that priestesses came here to kidnap young women who wandered alone without weapons, and then I stupidly went and wandered alone and without weapons. I should have known better, and I apologize for bringing them down on you. Please let us know what we can do to make up for it.”
The old man turned to her, and his face softened into something more sad, and tired. “It’s alright, I don’t actually need anything more from you. You’re not used to the procedures here; we should have stopped and reminded you. There was no harm done, and the systems we had in place to protect against this sort of thing worked. I’m sorry for yelling. It’s just… we’ve had such a good record of keeping them away. And the fact that they came and attacked a visitor, to whom we should be extending our hospitality, who was here to help us— it’s kind of embarrassing, to be honest. I should be yelling at myself, really.”
“It shouldn’t be your job to protect me,” Setsiana said. “This shouldn’t be happening to you in the first place.”
The old man gave her a wordless nod of acknowledgment and moved off to speak with someone else. Qhoroali watched him go. “How did you know what to say to him?” she asked.
Setsiana shrugged. “It usually works to just apologize — most people find it really hard to stay angry at someone who’s apologizing.”
“Yeah, I understand that, usually,” said Qhoroali. “But when he was yelling… I can’t think to figure out what would help, through that. It’s so loud. I can’t put my thoughts together like you did, in the moment.”
“I’m sorry I caused this trouble and it set him off on you,” said Setsiana. “It was a dumb thing to do.”
Qhoroali shook her head. “I should be able to do this,” she said. “This shouldn’t be a problem for me. You can handle it, and so can everyone else, so I should be able to, too.” She stalked back to the entrance to the building, presumably in search of Cyaru.
Story: The Fulcrum
Colors: Dogwood Rose #5: yellow: jealousy, Realgar #9: Escort
Styles and Supplies: Life Drawing, Graffiti (Disability Pride Month), Glue ("Stop trying to feel everyone else's emotions and focus on yours, Leo. Being empathetic is certainly laudable, but at some point you need to face the music and look in the mirror. Make a clear distinction between your needs and those of others. Express your feelings. Ask for help if you need it. Other people aren't mind readers. They probably have no idea what you're feeling."), Novelty Bead ("bend", given here)
Word Count: 1346
Rating: G
Warnings: None
Characters: Setsiana, Cyaru, Qhoroali, and the old man from earlier
Summary: Tensions are resolved in the wake of the attack.
Setsiana’s nerves were still on end, and they walked slowly, quickly falling behind the others. “I wanted to apologize to you,” said Cyaru.
Setsiana looked at him with some surprise. “For what?”
“For the way I’ve been treating you, the few times we’ve interacted. I’ve probably given you a terrible impression of myself.”
Setsiana shook her head. “I was part of an organization that was kidnapping and enslaving your people,” she said. “I get it.”
“Yeah,” he said, “that was part of it, definitely, but Qhoroali has explained a bit more about what your role in that organization was, and I believe that you were not responsible for any of it. And you were a victim of kidnapping yourself, and I wasn’t helping any. You could have turned us over to the priesthood, twice now, actually — first when we returned you, and now again to these priestesses who came here — and you didn’t. So I don’t bear any ill-will toward you about that, anymore. I believe you’re on our side in this.” He paused and they walked in silence for minute, but he opened and then closed his mouth several times, as if he had more to say, so she waited.
“The other part of it is very stupid,” he said, finally, “and I hope you can forgive me for it. Lise… she is constantly making jokes about priestesses, and how they are all sleeping with each other, you have to understand.”
Setsiana stiffened. “Because of me, you mean?”
“Not because of you. She’s been doing it for the whole time I’ve known her, long before we ever met you. Partly because they are our enemies, you know, but it’s also just her favorite joke. She has some in-joke about it with Qhoroali, too, because I gather Qhoroali used to be a priestess, or something near enough. I always got the feeling that there was some history there, some experience they’d had with each other, or some attraction, and if there had been, it would have been just from Lise’s side, because… well. That’s not my story to tell, so you’ll just have to take my word on that. It’s a little beside the point, because I was wrong about that. But I always wondered about her a little, you know?”
“She is not interested in women,” Setsiana said, her voice tight. “She’s just very good at pretending.”
He turned his head, and looked at her under the light of the street lamps. “I guess she has hurt you too, with her games,” he said. “To whatever extent I can, I apologize on her behalf.”
“I’ll wait until I hear it from her.”
Cyaru sighed. “Alright. But, as I was saying… after you came along, of course she was making jokes about you. And I saw how you looked at her… I thought— you’re both very pretty. I thought you might try to take her from me, and that she might go with you. One day she told me about how you had almost kissed her, and I finally said something to her, which in retrospect was something I should have done a long time ago, and she got very serious about it for once and cleared everything up, and I’m not worried about that anymore. But for a while, that was what I thought, and that’s part of why I was so hostile towards you. I was wrong, and I’m sorry.”
Setsiana walked in silence for a minute, and then said, “Alright. I can forgive you for that, and setting aside that whole second part, I believe you had a good reason to dislike me. But if Liselye wants my forgiveness, she’ll have to ask me herself.” She hesitated a moment. “I feel like I should apologize, too, actually. I had a knife with me for a while, and I was planning to stab you with it. I dreamed about it. The only reason I didn’t was that I couldn’t work up the nerve.”
“Yeah,” he said. “Qhoroali did tell me about that, and I can understand why you wanted to do that. I don’t bear you any ill-will for it.”
They were approaching the long building again, and several people were clustered at its entrance. One of them called out to Cyaru, and he sighed. “That’s my dad,” he said. “I suppose I have to go say hi to him. I think you should know… what the guy in there said about us isn’t entirely true. I mean, it’s true that the city folk tell lies about us, but some of the other things they say about us are true. It’s kind of like any small town, really — if you’re well-liked, everyone in the town is a real standup guy, and if you’re not, you have a different experience. There’s a reason I abandoned this timeline for yours, even though people are taught to hate us there. It doesn’t mean these people don’t deserve our help, it’s… just not that black and white.” He left her and went to the group near the doors.
Setsiana went back inside the building; it seemed like the safest place to be. Qhoroali was there, with her bandaged arm, talking to the old man, or rather, it seemed, he was yelling at her. Setsiana moved closer.
“I say this in your language so you understand me,” the old man was shouting, in QuCheanya, “You are supposed to be helping, but you come here and bring these kidnappers, these slavers, down on us. We haven’t seen them for years, and now suddenly they are back again, because of you.”
Qhoroali seemed frozen, tensed and frightened, with her hands clutched up near the sides of her face, and Setsiana realized it was the volume of his voice — she wanted to cover her ears, but thought it would be rude. She stepped up beside Qhoroali and addressed the old man. “I’m sorry,” she said. “This is all my fault. I was told that priestesses came here to kidnap young women who wandered alone without weapons, and then I stupidly went and wandered alone and without weapons. I should have known better, and I apologize for bringing them down on you. Please let us know what we can do to make up for it.”
The old man turned to her, and his face softened into something more sad, and tired. “It’s alright, I don’t actually need anything more from you. You’re not used to the procedures here; we should have stopped and reminded you. There was no harm done, and the systems we had in place to protect against this sort of thing worked. I’m sorry for yelling. It’s just… we’ve had such a good record of keeping them away. And the fact that they came and attacked a visitor, to whom we should be extending our hospitality, who was here to help us— it’s kind of embarrassing, to be honest. I should be yelling at myself, really.”
“It shouldn’t be your job to protect me,” Setsiana said. “This shouldn’t be happening to you in the first place.”
The old man gave her a wordless nod of acknowledgment and moved off to speak with someone else. Qhoroali watched him go. “How did you know what to say to him?” she asked.
Setsiana shrugged. “It usually works to just apologize — most people find it really hard to stay angry at someone who’s apologizing.”
“Yeah, I understand that, usually,” said Qhoroali. “But when he was yelling… I can’t think to figure out what would help, through that. It’s so loud. I can’t put my thoughts together like you did, in the moment.”
“I’m sorry I caused this trouble and it set him off on you,” said Setsiana. “It was a dumb thing to do.”
Qhoroali shook her head. “I should be able to do this,” she said. “This shouldn’t be a problem for me. You can handle it, and so can everyone else, so I should be able to, too.” She stalked back to the entrance to the building, presumably in search of Cyaru.
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Thanks for reading! Some of this I actually added into this scene only after I started posting here, to use the dogwood rose prompt, but I think it suits the character dynamics and ties into some backstories that are going to become relevant a long time from now.
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With Qhoroali, it's less about whether there is someone willing to help, and more about whether she thinks she deserves the help. But there will be a resolution to this eventually.
I'm interested to see if you eventually think Liselye has been redeemed, although that stuff is not for a long while yet.
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1. http://a1pictures.blogspot.com/2013/06/wat-sampran-thailand.html
2. http://25.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_lz9pre4z851qcv2z3o2_250.gif
3. train whistle