“So… what are the other three types of people?”
Emilia and Hyr turned as one to look at Zyrex, the hy Lwyn having been caught up in his mind for the last thirty or so minutes. During that time, they had continued climbing the stairs, Hyr explaining bits about how the Northern Tribes had changed in the last few decades, allowing Emilia to occasionally correct their grammar or wording on things.
On a whole, the syn had a good grasp of Baalphorian, but there had been a few times when Hyr hadn’t been able to get their point across, eventually having to explain what they meant in Brylish. Unfortunately, the concepts they had been trying to explain were beyond her knowledge of the language—which aside from not having used it in a decade had always been more focused on combat and general use, not in-depth discussions of social issues.
The two of them had spent some time laughing as they tried to discuss how the northern population was split on whether several classes on life skills should be segregated by gender or not, Hyr inadvertently telling her the classes were split by whether someone had a cock or a hole for a cock. This was neither what they meant—northern culture wasn’t so binary—nor the proper way to describe male and female anatomy in either language.
Despite his silence, Zyrex had tripped when Emilia pointed out that—with rare exceptions involving serious injury or illness—nearly everyone, regardless of gender, had a butthole and a mouth. Given the bright red that had flushed over both of their faces, neither had contemplated the exact intricacies of sex—not that that was surprising. Sex just… was in the north. Emilia wasn’t even sure how to explain it, or the exact reasons behind their seeming disinterest in sex for anything other than procreation. She had wanted to ask—still wanted to, really. She didn’t think either of her companions would appreciate the question—not in front of one another, anyways.
Conversations about mistranslations aside, they had eventually reached their destined city level, Hyr and her peeking through the {Blood Glass} and pointing at the aether as they followed its path. Still, Zyrex was silent, although he had sent Hyr the same odd looks she herself occasionally sent the syn, when she caught them watching her with a strange expression. Whatever was causing Hyr to look at her like that, they weren’t volunteering, and their threesome moved on.
They went through several battles, Zyrex still not saying anything, not even a thank you when Hyr passed him their newest blood weapon, a bracelet that expanded into a spinning blade that would circle the user’s wrist. It seemed both great for close combat—especially considering how unassuming it was when not in use—and dangerous: one wrong move, one good push, and the arm of the user could collide with their own body and slice!
Both Emilia and Hyr had been glad to hand it over to the hy. Let his moody ass be the one to slice itself open.
Regardless of all that, Emilia thought her and the syn’s surprise was warranted when the little hy finally deemed to speak with them again. Really, she was trying not to hold his silence against him—it wasn’t every day your world view was challenged with so much raw anger and violence—but even her patience was being rubbed by his refusal to do anything but mull over his thoughts and haphazardly follow in their shadows… not that this world had shadows, for the most part.
⸂Well, there’s the other side…⸃ Emilia started as they continued walking, winding their way back down the building through a central column. It seemed a bit silly to go up so far, just to be taken back down, but if that’s the way the {Blood Glass} and aether were telling them to go…
Emilia didn’t sigh as she hopped down another step. When had she become the type of person who actually believed this the universe can see the future crap? Even just within the confines of this raid, it was weird.
Better to just not think about all the ways she’d changed these last few weeks.
⸂There are the people who want to integrate everyone into a melting pot. I don’t think there are that many people who believe we should open all borders and try to make all our cultures magically work together—⸃
In front of her, Hyr snorted. “That would not work. We are too different, and our difference are beautifully incompatible. Could you imagine the Dionese forgoing their homes? Our people setting down roots so strong our families a thousand years from now will live in the same abode?”
⸂Dion is really good at setting down roots,⸃ Emilia laughed, thinking of her own experiences with their often unbending culture and beliefs.
She had often prided herself on being open and malleable, able to integrate herself into cultures with little effort. Around the time she’d ended up in Dion, as a teenager, she’d realized that could only happen when she was allowed to push and question. If her unending questions of but why do you do it like this? were met with because and no real explanation… Well, her time in Dion, with their ancient traditions that had no beginning, no end, had been marred with annoyed teachers.
Dionese students did not ask questions.
Emilia was a terrible Dionese student.
In a wonderful turn of events, she’d left her mark on a few of her classmates, if their stories about being chastised by their teachers for letting the foreign girl corrupt them were any indication.
It was funny, in some ways. Dion certainly had some customs she wasn’t a fan of, but few had been so terrible that she had questioned them in a malicious, hateful way. Usually, she had just wanted to know how a certain custom had come to be, why some of the specific details—and Dionese customs had thousands of specifics that had to be done perfectly—were the way they were.
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Didn’t matter. Students still weren’t meant to ask, and she never had learned why people wore seven layers on the Third Day of Harrowing, five on the Fourth, ten on the Fifth. Either no one knew, or it was some secret for only select eyes. Regardless, she wasn’t supposed to ask and even five decades on it still bothered her!
⸂The few people I’ve come across who are that insistent we can all become one are… a little deranged,⸃ Emilia continued, thinking of the one Astrapan teacher who had only lasted a few months before being fired for trying to recruit his students to some organization that gave total cult vibes. ⸂In reality, most don’t seem like they actually want to combine all our cultures together. That’s what they say, but it's more that they’re serious fans of certain cultures and want to spread that culture through the world, erasing all the cultures they don’t like.⸃
“I suppose they think that if people experience those cultures, they will allow them to replace their own…” Hyr said softly, the quiet contemplations of a student.
⸂That’s the sense I’ve always gotten. I think they lean into cultures that are more… closed, as well. A lot of people are a fan of The Core’s culture, for instance. They’ve only seen bits and pieces about it, and usually centuries removed from us. Doesn’t matter. They think the Core is cool. They can’t get in to visit, so they push for a single, continental government and culture, as though The Core would actually allow themselves to be forced into such a thing.⸃
There were a few, smaller Free Colonies who might welcome such a thing, but most Free Colonies and Baalphoria itself would never even entertain such a thing. Most of their governments leaned towards purist ideals rather than… whatever this sort of future vision would be. Openists? Openers? Freedomists?
Vaguely, Emilia wondered whether there was an official term or not. Unlike purists, who were somewhat organized—at least in Baalphoria—and constantly popping up in the news and research studies, those calling for more open borders and cultural exchanges were organized into smaller groups—sometimes only consisting of a handful of people—who rarely made the news. Perhaps, there was no need for a collective term for such people and their groups?
⸂Then,⸃ she continued, shaking off thoughts about how much groups like that could get away with, if no one were watching them, ⸂there are the groups in the middle. The people who aren’t really a fan of how things have ended up, but can’t be bothered to care about most of the changes that have occurred. Occasionally, they might complain about something—like public funds being used to support Free Coloniers who chose to stay in Baalphoria—but for the most part, they accept that change is inevitable.⸃
“I think many of our people are like that. They do not like how many things have become, but there is little they can do about it,” Hyr said as they pushed onto one of the floors, their eyes flashing through the area, searching for any signs of danger in the aether before pulling the {Blood Glass} up to their eye. They looked over the area again as they explained that different castes had different views on the changes in the world, and while those views could shift from tribe to tribe, the base education of the castes were often similar enough that views were similar. “Under the syna Gru, the synat became more accepting. Even now, we can see that the world has changed. There is no going back. We may hold to those beliefs we value the most, or we may fight and lose everything. There is no in between.”
Regardless of her views on the synat’s fortune-telling, Emilia found that somewhat… comforting. If the synat saw only a future where the most important beliefs of a society were held on to with iron fists, perhaps everyone could find a way to let their less important things go. Of course…
⸂Unfortunately, sometimes the worst traditions are the most important.⸃
“Yeah,” Zyrex agreed, this time shooting Hyr a look. “Sometimes the worst things are sacrosanct.”
Apparently, knowing he was in the company of people who were perfectly willing to be intolerant of certain beliefs had opened a door for the hy to disapprove of… of what? Some belief that Hyr had? A custom or belief the synat as a whole held?
The syn in question gave the hy Lwyn a long-suffering look. “So now you care to disagree with tradition?”
“It’s a stupid tradition.”
“It is my choice.”
“hy mordra’bu!”
Hyr didn’t roll their eyes at their friend’s outburst, but they looked like they wanted to. “hy’bu mordra’k. syn’pra hadra.”
Emilia… probably wasn’t meant to be listening to this, the northerners’ voices rising as they discussed some ritual Hyr would be partaking in soon—the ritual his friends were intent to take a vacation before, she assumed. Instead of sticking around, trying and failing not to eavesdrop, she contented herself with working her way down the winding hall, looking through the {Blood Glass} for the things that most pulled at her. Hyr—who, rather unsurprisingly, was a much better teacher than any of the local children—had explained that from a young age, sy—the first level within the synat—were taught to read the flavour of the aether. She still didn’t completely understand what that meant, but as she examined the world and the futures offered to her, she tried to breathe in… something.
Something extra.
Something she had never sensed before.
Despite spending so much of her life living and breathing the aethernet, creating skills to write over the fabric of it, accidentally ending up inside it, she’d never really just… existed with it, letting it seep into her. There were moments where she breathed the universe in, of course, especially when she grounded herself with it, the way the Blood Rain General had taught her so many decades ago.
That was similar, but not quite the same. Grounding with the universe as her guide was more… wide-ranging. It was reaching into the universe as a whole and letting it in, letting it take what she didn’t need or want away with it.
This was catching sight of a flicker across the aether’s surface—a scar, a scent, a shattering of light—and trying to pull it into her, trying to grasp hold of its ephemerality and demand it answer questions.
What are you?
What do you want?
What are you trying to tell me?
⸂That is rather violent.⸃
Emilia almost screamed as she spun—thankfully, she only sucked in a harsh breath—coming face to face with Carne, which, seriously!? Out of all the people she could have come across again, why did it have to be Carne and—
⸂What’s that?⸃
Emilia blinked at the small red orb Carne—or was it still Ash?—held out to her. It looked familiar, but she couldn’t quite place it.
⸂A gift.⸃
⸂From you?⸃
Carne didn’t sneer at her, which probably meant she was dealing with Ash, their eyes floating across the world, flickering to the {Blood Glass} in her hand, before sliding away, back in the direction of the northerners. ⸂From a boy—a teenager.⸃
Recollection shot through her. ⸂Kelly?⸃
The man hummed noncommittally as Hyr and Zyrex rounded a corner, their bodies radiating threat. ⸂You will need it.⸃ His head tilted as he examined Hyr. ⸂You should be gentler. The universe already has… mixed feelings towards you.⸃
Emilia blinked, and the man was gone, leaving her to reach out and grab the {Blood Marble}, created by the loss of Kelly’s arm, before it could hit the floor and shatter.
“Who the fuck was that?” Zyrex demanded, and honestly, did Emilia even really know?