fandomhighdorms | The Rocky Bits, Tuesday Afternoon

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The Rocky Bits, Tuesday Afternoon

Arthur'd left a message to all about the change in location for today's drill, last week. He was in something of a better mood, although yesterday's spar with Lady Elspeth had knocked him back down to a normal grouch. At least he no longer looked like he was contemplating murdering his co-conspirator.

He didn't start speaking until he was fairly sure they'd gotten their haul of people for the day. "Today, we begin to work with our terrain," he announced, "And each other. You all have vastly different skills and powers at your disposal; now's the time to share them. You'll be venturing out to different defensible locations, spread over the seaside to your right," he nodded, "the Rocky Bits at your left," another nod, "And the ground you're standing on. Pick one, and set up a plan to make it defensible."

After a quick glance at Arthur, to make sure he had finished, Leto continued: "And after having made your own strategy for defense, some research will help you develop it. Find examples from various points in history of successfull defense of a geographic location similar to the one you chose and write a short report on your own conclusions."

[~~Wait for OCD!~~ OCD is up!]

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Leto noted that look, but he wasn't going to ask. Instead he grinned. "Planning your actions is essential, even if events don't follow your plans. What experience do you have?"

"Not dying," she said firmly.

"More specifically, three missions given to my brother and I by our family, and one surprise attack by, er, one of my father's cousins."

They'd hit him with the car. It hadn't been fun, and Uncle Henry hadn't exactly been pleased, but it had been effective enough.

That caught Leto's interest. "Are there internal struggles within your family?" he asked.

She nodded.

"My mother's family is kind of terrifying. Then again, so is my father's family. And they hate each other, but they're not technically allowed to fight each other.

"But both of them can try and kill my brother and I because no one knows exactly what we are."

What. She'd said what. She hadn't meant to, but that's what she'd said.

He smiled a little. "And you don't know yourself what you are?" he asked, giving her arm a gentle touch.

The 'what' had made him curious though, even if he didn't want it to be too obvious.

Her eyes went to his hand on her arm, but she didn't move or startle. She smiled a little before she lifted her head and breathed in.

"According to my mother's family, I'm a goddess."

They'd proclaimed her such, handed her her rose... and then they'd gone and separated her from her brother. She would never forget the difference between her father and her mother, or how their families were. Lucia had used the council to try and kill them; Beal had just come right out and tossed the twins around. She wasn't sure which one she hated more.

Mother tries to protect us. But Father doesn't lie to us.

"I'm not sure yet. I just think I'm myself. Fiona."

Edited 2009-05-12 16:40 (UTC)

Leto's father was worshipped as god on many worlds, as was his aunt to some extent, so the concept wasn't foreign to him. "And are you a goddess?" he asked, amused. "Of course, a definition might be required. As does Self."

Leto, with all the lives within him, found the latter harder to define.

Edited 2009-05-12 17:03 (UTC)

"Technically," she admitted.

She'd eaten the Apple of Immortality. Her mother was a goddess. Her father was a fallen angel. Thankfully, she was not well versed enough in popular culture or cultural understanding enough to realize just how strange that sounded.

"I'm not--" and she hated saying this "I'm not human, anyway."

This was Fandom, he shouldn't be surprised, but her answer intrigued Leto. "No? In what way do you differ from humans? My father once said that no separation exists between gods and men and that one blends easily into the other."

Muad'Dib had been talking about concepts though, not genetics.

She'd seen her father, complete with giant horns, goat's legs and hooves... It had only been for a flash, but it'd certainly made an impression.

"Does your father have to eat?" she asked quietly.

His father within him found this question extremely amusing. "He is dead," Leto replied. "Only the god and his legacy lives on."

She thought about how she'd felt for most of her life, thinking both parents were dead. A little part of her, a very small part, had preferred that. It'd meant more to dream about.

The reality had been somewhat jarring.

"I'm sorry. But in life, did he?"

"Oh, certainly. He was as human as I am," Leto replied.

"I don't. In fact, I can't."

She'd had a choice to make, between being tied to a box of chocolate or cutting out her own capacity to hunger and she'd made it, for good or ill. Of course, her aunt and her mother had only been able to give her another day of strength before she would have died, but they'd succeeded. She'd eaten the Golden Apple of Immortality.

And since then, everything was sawdust.

It wasn't that big of a problem until you realized how many social situations happened around food, how many bonding experiences, how many vital rituals used food as cement.

Fiona was painfully aware of this.

"I'm sorry," was the first thing that came into Leto's mind. He wasn't obsessed by food, but he knew well enough the importance of shared meals in most cultures throughout history. "But I assume your family share your condition, and so you are not alone?"

She shook her head.

Not so much.

"Just me. It was just an example."

She wouldn't use her mother for one. That was too personal by far.

"Then I truly am sorry," he replied. "Tell me, what gives someone reason to claim divinity where you're from?"

She seemed to possess an odd combination of innocence and experience.

She lifted her head, thinking of the rose stuffed in her bags back in the cabins.

"I was inducted into the Order of the Celestial Rose. It's as much a title as anything, in my family. A mark of distinction."

She didn't know much else when it came to religion as she'd been forbidden from learning it. Pagan, Christian, any. She had no cultural context for most of what she'd learned in the last month or so. It made things doubly confusing.

"I know there's more to it than that, but I wasn't allowed to read about it. Um, are you familiar with the Fates, maybe?"

They were the only ones she really knew about, the only members of her family she'd been able to identify. They'd gotten that far through the book they'd found in the basement.

"The Fates? Divine beings responsible for the destiny of mortals?" Leto did know about Greek mythology.

"Well," she said, somewhat uncomfortable in that he apparently knew more about his family than she did, "like that."

She didn't want to name any names. It just seemed... wrong. She wasn't even sure if this was wise, but she'd already jumped in headfirst and she wasn't about to go stepping back now. She'd just have to be more careful where she trod.

"You have prescient vision?" he asked quietly.

There was the question she didn't want to answer. After all, she wasn't looking. She'd seen her thread, seen her own death. Now, if she looked, she could see where the old thread had ended and the new thread latched on to continue the line.

She hated seeing it. And the sensations from further along the thread were so vague.

"It's not vision," she said carefully, "or not always. Sometimes it's sight, sometimes sound. Once it was the feel of bricks on my palms. The farther ahead you go, the harder it is to tell."

Leto tensed and looked away. No, it wasn't always vision. He had felt things too; his skin not quite his own. "And the paths become muddled? I... am sorry." He seemed to be saying that a lot.

She peered at him carefully, seeing him in a new light as he looked away.

"You do too, don't you?"

"My father did," he replied quickly, then added: "Perhaps."

[bedtime!]

The Rocky Bits, Tuesday Afternoon

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