derogation | (no subject)

(no subject)

[Zachry had, as he tended to do ever since Sloosha's, found himself once more sitting perched atop one of the oceanfront cliffs a handful of miles out from the valley. It were no real fault of his own, nor entirely to blame on the goats- just a kind of instinctual kenning, and he found himself working high and removed from the rest of his tribe.

The spot had met his approval some time ago anyway; he could see Kona warbands if they came close by, could hear them. He could see if Prescients came scavvin for bits of Old Un junk what littered the island.

And that's where he was looking now. His eyes cast out over the waters surrounding Ha-why, zoning in and out, letting his mind wander.]

(AS I SET THIS BEFORE HIS STORY EVEN STARTS PROPER, IN THE SPACE BETWEEN SLOOSHA'S AND THE ACTUAL START OF THINGS GOIN' DOWN. It seems the easiest place to begin practicing.)

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[And out pops Christopher.]

Hello! Would you like to be friends?

[Zachry is startled out of his little fugue by an unfamiliar, close voice. With alacrity he draws his spiker, his hand wrapped around the handle- almost overeager for self-defense. But he holds it to where it isn't easily seen yet. And with the motion, he has turned to look somewhat behind him and over his shoulder.]

Wha- be startlin' a bro, sayin' your howzits that way...

[Mild suspicion. Nobody ever came around when he was here 'cept Catkin or Rose anymore. And something off about this bro.]

[What gave him away, the bloody sclera or the mouth full of fangs?]

Hm, has the language changed? My, oh my, oh me! I can't quite tell, you see. I've been so far from humans for so long that I don't know a thing of them anymore. It breaks my heart, for I love humans almost as much as I love Mother Nature herself.

[Those are things he's now indeed noticed- and as Christopher talks, Zachry is hit with a terrible sinking feeling. Oh no. He swallows and sheathes his spiker.]

You kin o' Ol' Georgie?

[He doesn't stand though, and his expression slowly shifts to a sort of pathetic resignation.]

I cogg you. You 'nother devil come'n'cussin' up my life, yay? I ain't so stupid, tho. You ain't gotta spin no yarnin' 'bout lovin' nobody. Wha'chu want?

[pause. blink. blink.]

I don't think Master Huey created any of us named George...

[Zachry shifts on the stone he's sitting on so he doesn't have to stare over his shoulder, his shoulders slumping. But even then, his brows furrow.]

...But you a devil. You should know him truesome. Mebbe- he got a dif'rent name for you? His true-true name. Not what Valleysmen cogg him.

[What is his life that he is sitting here talking with a devil? Zachry wonders about his life sometimes. But it's his lot, consorting with all kindsa devils and demons. No harm talking. Just talking.]

Ah... hm... I know! [Christopher claps his hands together.] What did he look like?

[Describing one devil to another.]

He a fangy eyed sort. Skin greener n' all the grass'n'trees on alla Ha-why. Got clothes made o' skins'n'feathers.

[Zachry nods to himself, fairly certain he's described the important visual parts of Ol Georgie. He's very familiar with them, after all.]

S'why I knowed you'n'him were kin. You got your dif'rences, yay, but I seen that samesome fangy look to you.

Welllllll, I can't think of anyone by that appearance... but perhaps Old Man Huey made someone new while I wasn't around.

Huey?

[Look at this amazing one word tag.]

Huey is the one who created me.

[And no elaboration.]

[yeah Christopher you are doing GREAT explaining things to this poor dude]

[It's not like Zachry is explaining anything better. But some things seem to have an intuitiveness to them, and with Christopher being a devil, and him saying he was created, there is only one line of thought.]

Don't know that God. Valleysmen don't cogg lotta b'liefs other tribes got... I heard o' a lotta Gods o' the i'land, but don't know o' un called Huey. You anotha tribe's pers'nal devil, wanderin' out here, then?

[Christopher tends to think of Huey as Godlike, so he doesn't fight that point.] I don't think I belong to anybody in particular, so... no? Is the job of devil already taken up here? Alas! I'll be out of work.

I already got a devil.

[It's a vain attempt at asserting control in his life. A minor rebellion in a way. A 'hey NO you CAN'T do what you want'. It's probably not all that convincing or filled with conviction.]

An' so does my tribe. Bet you could find youself somethin' out in Honokaa, tho. Some other stoned soul or soon t'be stoned.

I don't support people who consume drugs. It's an ugly habit.

[Yes.]

[He stares, his expression slowly shifting to confusion.]

What?

Narcotics poison the mind, you see.

Wha...? Nar-cah-tics?

[He pronounces the word with a stiffness to each syllable: the sound of someone parroting a word they don't know and have never heard.]

[Christopher's head tilts, hair falling over his face.] You seem to be all right. I'll accept you as you are.

I don't think I'm gettin' your meanin'?

That reminds me! You never told me your name. I'm Christopher.

Zachry. [Zachry pauses, looking down for a minute, then back up.] So what be bringin' a devil down from Mauna Sol? I assumin' you ain't here for me, seein' as you din't know my name.

Bored. There isn't a lot to do anymore. I'm booooooooooooooored. [He has to drag the word out so Zachry knows how bored he is.]

Go fug 'round with the Kona, then. Bet they'd like the comp'ny. Bet they don't even have a devil o' they own. Pro'lly view theyselves as good 'nuff.

[He licks his teeth in thought.]

Bet you could get 'em all t'warrin' 'midst theyselves.

Hmm, are they another little village? I could get them to kill each other... But why leave out the chance to have fun for myself?

Whole tribe. Gotta lot o' territory out on the westerly side o' the i'land. They have a likin' to come 'round this side t'do they huntin'n'slavin'.

[Zachry begins to roll the button on his necklace between his fingers.]
Don't you be bargainin' youself, Zachry. You're mine, mem'ry that.
...Figure a devil like you might enjoy givin' 'em some trouble. An' ain't nobody gonna miss a few Kona gone missin'. Or gone dyin'.

[More curious, he watches Zachry toy with the button.] Do you want them all dead?

[Disbelief. Curious. A little bit of shame gnawing at the back of his head at considering this but oh, the Kona have been a blight on him and his people.]

You can do that?

Can't be too much trouble. They're only human, after all.

[Zachry nods.]

There's a lot o' 'em, tho. Hole westly side o' the i'land just 'bout covered in Kona. Not sayin' that I be doubtin' you, more like. Sayin' t'ain't an easy task, yeah?

Welllllll...

[Christopher flops onto the grass.]

What's the fun in doing something easy?

S'plenty o' fun doin' sumthin' easy. But if you're int'rested in hard work [Zachry gestures one hand over to the west.] s'all yours. Ev'rythin' on the other side o' Mauna Sol, yay, that's where you can find Kona by the hun'reds. Mebbe mil'yuns. Ain't so suresome 'bout the number.

Will you be my friend if I kill them?

I -

[He hesitates. He doesn't want to be friends with a devil, not remotely, but Zachry is, ultimately, a man with a strong sense of his own self-preservation by whatever means necessary. So there's the conflict. Say yes and clearly keep his own hide in one piece while losing moral ground? Say no and keep the moral ground while possibly paying for it in other ways? Tough choice.]

I'll think 'bout it. If you true kill off the Kona, an' they stop raidin'n'killin' over on this side o' i'land, yay, I will give it some thought.

All right. [Christopher gets to his feet.] We'll meet again.

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