victory_road | [Closed] Taking the harm out of harmony

He will likely need that glass of mead, what with the fact that none other than Emet-Selch is sitting at the kitchen table, dressed in white button up shirt, a black waistcoat, and matching black pants. As usual, he is wearing his gloves, but upon his face is a pair of glasses as he seems to be looking over the newspaper, a barely touched cup of coffee before him.

He does not seem surprised at all by either of them walking in, one could even say he seems to expect them. Turning to another page of the paper, he doesn't so much as look up as they enter.

"Have you even tasted it yourself yet, Hythlodaeus? Or are you planning on making him your guinea pig?"

Edited 2020-09-03 05:46 (UTC)

Steven turns to look pointedly upward at Hythlodaeus, because what the fucking fuck?

"You owe me, Hythlo," he says under his breath.

“Yes, yes. You will find that I’m “good for it” as they say,” he says as he fishes some stemware from the cupboard.

“I’ve noticed that my dear friend has been... getting under your skin more as of late. So... today’s lesson, aside from the galaktabureko, will be in making genuine friends with a man you cannot stand. Which is fundamental in building a community! You two do have quite a bit in common and if we allow bygones to be bygones... I do believe I can mediate this to completion!”

He pulls the glass gallon jug from the fridge.

“And, no, I have not tasted it yet. Where ever is your sense of adventure?”

Edited 2020-09-03 05:57 (UTC)

"Mm. Must have lost it in the Sundering." Is Emet's short response as he continues to look over the paper. He knows what this is about, Hythlodaeus told him before hand, convinced him to give it a go. He has little hope for the prospect, but he cannot well deny Hythlodaeus, he supposes.

Taking his coffee in one hand he takes a drink of it, still not looking at either of them. Well, this is a warm start, isn't it?

Steven sighs in a way so that Hythlodaeus will know exactly how much he is suffering and then holds out his hand. "The mead, then, please--I'm going to need it. And you'll need to give me a moment to let work know I'll be using PTO today, since I doubt I'll be much use at the Tower with as much as I'm likely to need to get through this."

Hythlodaeus happily uncorks the mead and pours Steven a big boy glass.

“Very well!”

And then turns to Hades with a warm smile. He pours himself out a glass and takes a seat next to him, leaving the one to his right empty for Steven.

“Oh, lighten up, would you? We’re here to settle this and come together! He’s already got enough odd ideas about you as it is. We all only stand to gain.”

Once Hythlodaeus has sat down and started talking to him a bit more directly, he finally looks up from his paper. Having already placed his coffee down, he folds it down and in half to do so. After a moment to let that quirked brow, flat stare have its effect, he acquiesces. Not without a dramatic and exasperated sigh as he closes his newspaper, folding it up, and placing it down.

"Oooh very well." He did agree to this after all, and if it could make Steven stop getting his hackles up over nothing at all, it would duly serve everyone, he supposes. It does not mean he has to be happy about it, however, but he supposes one catches more flies with honey than vinegar...

"'Tis fortunate that I am not in a mood today, I suppose. Let us hope it stays that way, yes?"

Edited 2020-09-03 06:42 (UTC)

Steven, meanwhile, is busy calling up his work as the glass is put before him at the table. "... yes, of course. Actually, you could say I'm working on recruiting right now. You know the Tricky Bandits... oh yes, they were ours, except for the third, who was, mm, shall we say an independent ally? ... well, yes, he would be an asset for the company. I'm so glad you agree... I promise, I'll have it to you before noon tomorrow. All right then. Thank you. I owe you another one. ... 'til then."

He switches off the talk function of his pokegear and slips it back into his pocket. Takes the glass of mead and before anything else, takes a long sip.

"Well," he says. "That's taken care of."

“A great many things are possible with hope.” He gives him a wink as his attention shifts to Steven as he gets off the phone.

“What will you have by noon tomorrow, Steven?” He bats his eyelashes at him a couple times.

"Indeed."

Emet says a little flatly, but then likewise points his attention to Steven, his mouth quirking into a smirk. He doesn't comment, merely waits for Steven to answer the question as he takes another sip of his coffee. Watching the other man like a cat might its plaything.

"The final cut for part one of An Otherworld Tourist's View of Sinnoh," Steven says, with a shrug. "It's more or less in its final version already. I'll just need to review it one more time before I turn it in. Has Dirk shared any of the raw recordings with you two yet?"

It's easier just to ignore Hades for now and just mostly concentrate on his conversation with Hythlodaeus.

“He hasn’t, though we’ve only begun to be on easier speaking terms. Hades did explain Homestuck to me, which did help,” he says with absolutely no trace of irony.

“And Dirk did... Inform me of how my attire was being perceived. Ah, I did mean to ask you about an adjacent matter. What is the hanky code?”

See, had Hades not been made aware of the fact that Steven was aware of Homestuck, he'd be bothered by the casual way that Hythlodaeus drops that. But he is aware, and so he isn't. He still watches, however, to gauge Steven's own reaction to the news that not only Hythlodaeus knows, but he himself does.

After all, he's pretty confident that Dirk did not tell Steven that he allowed Hades to read his tome, nor told him more details about such.

The latter question, however, gets an eye-roll from him, but he places his coffee back down, cupping his face with his hand as he rests it there, his elbow likewise resting on the tabletop. This will open up an interesting discussion all the same, he supposes, and so he waits and watches.

Steven sneaks a darting glance at Hades, taking the moment to imagine him in grey face paint, with a candy-corn headband, and has to cover up the urge to crack up at that mental image by taking another sip of mead. Emet-Selch, Homestuck Evangelist--what a terrible, yet somehow hilarious thought.

"Did he?" Steven comments finally, once he can keep a straight face. "I can't imagine it's a very coherent narrative, second-hand like that."

He sets his glass down and laces his fingers together. "The hanky code," Steven says, putting on his Radio Voice without hesitation, "was a form of signaling used in gay clubs, in order for men with congruent sexual kinks and desires to find each other. Each kink was assigned a color of handkerchief, to be worn tucked in to the back pocket or waistband. Common ones include black for sadomasochism, grey for bondage, light blue for oral sex, dark blue for anal sex, red for fisting, purple for piercing, green for prostitution, orange to indicate anything goes... I'm sure you can imagine what brown and yellow are used for."

He leans back in his chair. "The placement of the handkerchiefs indicates whether one wishes to be the active or passive partner in such an encounter. Worn to the left denotes giving, worn to the right denotes receiving. Of course, due to the rise of hook-up apps, the hanky code has mostly gone out of style. These days, most people just list their kinks in their Grindr--or Gravlr--profiles. But for its time, it was quite useful. I myself would sometimes affect a right-worn light blue, in my much younger days."

“Hades is well aware of what I will or won’t understand. Surely it was tailored to some degree for my benefit... Yet the tale centered mostly around his young companion.”

Woe to the ever shifting sands of culture and fashion.

But Hythlodaeus ever is a keen listener. “...And did it yield results? My, my, Hades! Imagine if we had such a thing in the Akadaemia.”

He realizes then, that he still isn’t sure how old Steven is. What he does know is Jack’s age and the frequency of mortals to take a partner of similar age.

“...twenty, thirty years ago?” He asks, his guesses getting... better, at least.

...Well, that was certainly not a mental image he ever wanted, both blessed and cursed by this limitless imagination of his. Naturally, his mind has locked the colors and their meanings away within it, and with that last bit that Steven admitted to, well...the recoil of disgust is instant, but fortunately his hand covers some of it.

Though, with Hythlodaeus' addition to the whole thing, he offers him a flat stare, letting him ramble out the bit about Steven's age, clearly not knowing it. And they claim to be friends? Well, whatever.

"And where, pray tell, would we put them? It is not as if our robes had back pockets." He counters, but then glances at Steven. "I would wager no more than twenty years ago. You have not quite hit forty, yes?"

"Not quite, no," Steven says, coolly.

"It did have results," he tells Hythlodaeus, turning his body towards him. "And so did switching it to the opposite pocket. And you, Hythlo—" (and there's a note of amusement in his voice, softening the accusation) "—you asked me about it hoping I'd go into lecture mode, didn't you? It worked."

He takes another, smaller sip of mead. "I'd think as long as your robes had belts or could be belted, a hankie code could be improvised," he muses.

“I think if we wore belts over our robes, Lahabrea would have hauled us to his office by them for a scolding!” Hythlodaeus laughs and takes a sip of his drink.

“Fascinating, really... Though I do imagine Amaurotines would have appreciated such a coding system... Even if the most appropriate place, the baths, it would have been difficult to... We should have color coded the towels!” He drops his fist into his other hand, then shakes his head.

“Ah, but this is not quite the heart of the issue. Come, let us sort our misunderstandings. Steven, Hades is among the kindest and most hard-working men I know dealt insurmountable difficulties by fate. Though forced to tie off his own love and empathy for the sake of his people and masking himself to protect his soul, he is still reachable.”

“Hades, Steven has made true strides. His appetite for learning and self-improvement as well as love of the arts would have made him right at home in Amaurot. I dare say you two would have been fast friends! You must forgive his errors of youth, improper mentorship, and support preceding my intervention.”

As both Steven and Hythlodaeus begin to talk, Hades turns his attention back to his coffee. Seemingly ignoring the discussion, though he does solemnly nod about the bit with Lahabrea, though the thought of the man fills him with a mixture of emotions. None playing upon his face as he sips his coffee some more.

However, when Hythlodaeus segues into the crux of the matter, he does offer them both an idle glance. Though, it hardens a bit at Hythlodaeus as he explains Hades in such a way. While honest, he still is not fond of the idea of Steven getting to know more about him, for he does not trust loose-lipped Steven to keep such information to himself.

Not that he truly thinks ill can come from it, but privacy is something he values.

Setting his coffee down, nearly done as it is, he looks to them both more fully. Eyebrows raised curiously as Hythlodaeus explains Steven's bit, his gaze falling to the man in question as he seems to be appraising him physically for Hythlodaeus' observations.

"Has he now." He says simply, though there's that nasally tone of judgment behind his words. "I must forgive naught. Whether I do or not is another matter entirely. Regardless, it is not such personal acts against me that has colored my view of him, though it has indeed hand a hand in shaping them, but that beyond these distinct violent acts."

"I admit, you have surprised me at times, but a few moments and acts to the contrary of an otherwise static set of behaviors is not enough to change my judgment." He says, rather resolute. Looking to Hythlodaeus now, he tilts his head a little curiously as he gestures with his hand. "So then, what has he done to change yours, Hythlodaeus?"

There is a tenseness that's returned to the way Steven holds himself in Hades' presence, even as the mead and conversation with his friend had previously eased it somewhat.

"Perhaps if I were an Amaurotine, we might have been," he says finally, remembering that brief twelve hours in which he'd actually liked Hades, before Hades had made it clear that Steven was no more of a person to him than he'd been to anyone he'd done day labor for in the two months following their escape. "But we all know that I'm not, nor ever will be. I'm a member of a primitive people, after all--" His mouth twists bitterly. "--and he's admitted himself what he does to my kind."

Edited 2020-09-03 18:28 (UTC)

Hythlodaeus places a hand on each of theirs and looks between them. He takes a slow, prompting breath before he starts.

"Hades, I've watched his internal struggle. His... Shifts in perception about himself and others. Which is difficult to do with a mind wired as his is. Though I remind him greatly of his keeper, he has overcome this and accepted me as one of his people."

He then turns to Steven. "He is wearing a costume, Steven. Craving little else but peaceful days and warm companionship, he takes no pleasure in the bloodier aspects of his duty."

"Though it cannot undo what he has done, in your eyes. We have reached our first sticking point. You are not repulsed by violence, even on a large scale. You would not be marrying Jack if that were the case. Pray help me understand. Why do you think you couldn't be counted among Hades' people?"

Steven takes a sip of the mead to steady himself.

"You're right," he says. "Violence, even on a large scale, doesn't repulse me. It isn't bragging of subjugation that bothers me so much as that he bragged of doing it to primitive people. That's the kind of phrase that sets off warning bells in my head. Because I am from a 'primitive people,' Hythlodaeus. I don't just mean as a mortal. I mean that among mortals."

He snorts. "Primitive! My ancestors were the first people on Earth to institute compulsory education. They were great engineers and doctors--they built artificial islands to grow food on, they did surgeries with scalpels made of volcanic glass--you must understand, Hythlodaeus, their city, Tenochtitlan, was quite literally the most marvelous and grand city in the world at the time of the Spanish conquest. But they didn't have iron or bronze and the Spanish did. And the Spanish brought with them diseases that the Mexica, my ancestors, had no immunity to. They laid siege to the city and a thousand Mexica died for every Spaniard."

Steven sighs and rubs his temple. "But it doesn't matter that the Mexica were the furthest thing from primitive, because history is written by the victors and in my world, the victors were the Spanish and the English and just-- Europeans in general. They figured out the trick of long ocean voyages and proceeded to steal everything they could grab--and because everyone was dying from the germs they brought with them, the English, French, and Spanish basically managed to grab hold of the entire continent. Even though there had been people living there for thousands of years, it didn't matter because they were 'primitives.'

"And so you get people like me. Mostly descended from indigenous Mexicans, but with some Europeans thrown in. Most of my grandparents were born in Mexico and immigrated to the country due north when they were young. My parents were born in America. My sister and I were born in America... but somehow we're not considered to be 'real Americans' the way that people descended from the Europeans are."

Steven takes a sip of mead before continuing. He needs it. "What you need to understand is that in America no one who looks like me or Tyler or Dirk or Connie--and certainly no one darker skinned--are considered to be 'real Americans' in the way that people who look like him or like Armin or Jack would be. What you need to understand is that although my parents have money and I have an education, which did a lot to smooth the way for me... I'm still considered to be an inferior back home by a surprising number of people who look like him. After I escaped from Arcadia, with no money and no legal identity, with plenty of those people assuming I'd recently slipped over the border? It was even worse."

He keeps his eyes on Hythlodaeus as he speaks. It's-- easier, somehow, if he can pretend he's only talking to Hythlodaeus--and the alcohol to loosen his tongue a little helps too.

"So I guess that's why. I mean, I know that you're from another world, with different racial politics than mine. And-- I know that he acts the way he does about me because I'm mortal, not Latino. And because when my head was fucked up with PTSD, I ended up conflating him with my Keeper, because Amaurotines are much too Fae-adjacent for comfort--I mean, that's why I did that exposure therapy with you--and I did some nasty things to him in the name of getting him before he could get me.

"It's just-- even taking all that away, even if I hadn't conflated him with El P, even if I hadn't pushed him down the stairs he should have been warned about or invaded his dream... I don't think there was ever a way for us to get along. Not really. I've been treated as an inferior by people who look like him enough in my life--I do not need more of it from him."

Edited 2020-09-03 23:11 (UTC)

Hades remains quiet as he listens, his eyes not quite on either of them, though for a moment when Hythlodaeus had touched his hand, it had fallen to it. Yet, now he's allowed his gaze to drift off elsewhere, but this did not mean he was not listening. If anything, he figures Steven might speak more freely if he wasn't staring him down, and so he didn't.

As he listens to Steven's explanation, part of him twists with disgust—not because of Steven's empathy towards his own people's plight, though the plight itself is pitiable enough—much rather that he does not abhor the act of subjugation itself. Nor violence—and that alone may not be damning, but knowing that full well Steven was willing to give into such a craving for it, that the admission sits poorly with him.

However, the explanation tells him a few things, and one such thing is that Steven is still stuck in his own perspective. That, while the circumstances of resources and differences of culture allowed one society to progress one way, and the other another, he still is not viewing this as the bigger scale thing that it is.

And so, he finally turns his gaze to Steven, cool and calm, much like his tone as he speaks.

"If I may—when you speak of those who bear resemblance to me in opposition of those who look like you, or Dirk, or Connie...are you implying there are those whom are like Garleans in your world?" As if to emphasize his point, he sits up a little more straight to remove his face from his hand so that he can gesture at the third eye adorning his forehead.

"I do know this world changes those whom enter it to take on the appearance of Hyur, but ere we go further into this, I would better understand the differences we are speaking of—since beyond the fae you have dealt with, it does not sound as though your world has its share of immortals. So then, what is the difference between Europeans and the Mexica? Let alone the others—these are all terms neither of us are familiar."

After all, the mortal races Hades is used to have...very distinct differences, and while there are even sub groups within those races, something as simple as skin color is hardly the measure in which discrimination is enacted. That, and with Steven's list, there's quite the variance in skin tone, even if he did mention darker-skinned people, that did not quite fit everyone he mentioned.

Edited 2020-09-03 23:44 (UTC)

Steven groans softly. "Oh god, right. You guys wouldn't just have humans or people who look like humans--like Hyur--in your world. You'd have the whole gamut. The word 'race' would have entirely different connotations. Okay. So. Biologically, very little difference between people back home would call 'races.' Some people of different heritage and ancestry have different, hm, predispositions towards certain medical issues and the darker toned skin someone has, the better it does for protecting them from the sun, but. But. That's it. But cosmetically, there's enough difference for people to care.

"In my world, when people talk about race, they mean... humans of certain heritages and ancestry, who look a certain way. It's entirely a social construct, but that doesn't matter, because people treat it like it's real. So people whose ancestors come from the European sub-continent, who're pale like you, and cosmetically resemble you rather than me or Tyler or Dirk or Connie-- those people are treated as their own race in my world. Specifically people of pure European descent, because it's very much based on purity.

"Basically-- anyone who isn't of pure European descent is often considered to be inferior to the people that are. Legally, we're not supposed to be anymore and there's a lot of younger people who don't believe that shit, but there's still plenty of people who do and you encounter a lot of them when you don't have a legal identity.

"You asked me the difference between Europeans and the Mexica-that-were? From a strictly biological and physiological standpoint, the difference is that Europeans look like you and the Mexica-that-were mostly look like me. That's it. And yes, it is as stupid as hell, but it's how things in my world work."

He grimaces, then takes a sip of mead.

Edited 2020-09-04 00:51 (UTC)

“...Forgive me, but this seems to be near random chance. He could have taken on the appearance of a man who looks like you.”

He gestures to his own face. “Even this... though it has changed little since I finished maturing—only because I haven’t bothered to change anything. Though I could.”

“... I suppose my point is that this... is not about that! Though that sounds both unimaginably stressful... and complex!”

Edited 2020-09-04 02:11 (UTC)

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject