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Post by enchilada on May 6, 2019 22:21:19 GMT
Waterdeep was so... whatever.
Honeybun had been keeping herself busy. She had approximately two interests: things she thought were cool, and research. Of course, in complete and utter balance. Like, perfectly balanced — as all things should be.
And by that, it was sort of an 80-20 split, leaning towards having fun.
She was still incredibly studious, of course, and what time she did put in, she always made it count. But she also messed around when she wasn’t working. It was hard to focus, sometimes. Honey was... trying. She was trying so hard! But there was just so much chaos and anarchy, even in a city full of guards and other law-type people. It was definitely more exciting to look out the window than focus on her spells, on her study.
It was all well and good trying to learn about her life, but what was the point if she wasn’t really living it? Right? Gone were the days of nibbling hay and lettuce and spinach in a tiny hutch and waiting to be trimmed! Now, she got to do things on her own time, and, like she’d said, her own time was gonna be rad.
Honey held her dulcimer tight in one hand, with the other, she held a small knife, just the kind of size to slip under your sleeve, if you were that way inclined. To wear sleeves, that is, not to slip a weapon somewhere unseen. She assumed everybody did that.
Her instrument was flipped over, in her lap. She was gently carving into the body, really working the knife as carefully as possible. A new skull. It looked pretty sick already, but it could definitely look cooler. When she was satisfied with her new addition, she stood up from the street, where she’d tucked against a wall. She thought, maybe, she could see if there was a tavern in need of some absolutely sick new beats. If there was, maybe she could pocket a few coins, but she wasn’t so concerned with that as with having a bit of fun. She slung the instrument into her bag, and pulled the brim of her hat down, low. Then she carefully, in a very practiced manner, tiptoed off, arms crossed.
Tavern! Lights! People! It was only the early evening, maybe mid evening, she wasn’t checking, but everyone needed a warm up, right? She poked her head in, nodded, and headed up to the bar. Honey needed a warm up herself.
“Could you fill a shot glass with wine? Don’t ask.”
She only needed just a little. Plus, she was pretty sure if she had much more, she would die. But it smelled so good...
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Post by moralhazard on May 7, 2019 2:57:54 GMT
It had been a painful, miserable sort of day. The night before had stretched long into the morning. Nothing had happened - just a series of drunken idiots belching in her face and making threats, but never going far enough to be thrown out.
Kara had gotten home so late it was nearly early, and had been asleep for no more than a few moments before the entire top floor of the Bird’s Rest seemed to erupt in a fight. She had rushed upstairs, but it was just a brawl, two drunk men slugging each other and - Kara had turned and walked away, gone back to her bedroll and covered her head and failed to sleep through it.
An afternoon guard shift had been no better. Dhaunmyr had sent a note saying he couldn’t make training, but not even the satisfaction of a few hours practice had taken the edge off her mood.
Kara wanted - she wanted a drink.
She had chosen a tavern that was new to her, and walked in planning to order a dwarven ale and drink it alone. She’d drank alone plenty of times in Everlund. Nothing wrong with it.
Kara sat down at the bar, too wrapped up in her thoughts to notice what was around her. Nothing wrong with drinking alone.
So why did she feel so... lonely?
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Post by enchilada on May 7, 2019 13:22:31 GMT
Honeybun had already clambered onto the stool, but she had to sort of — wriggle around until she got comfortable. Then she recieved her tiny glass, with a smile, or an approximation of one. It wasn’t the most comfortable in the world, the pulling of muscles. It wasn’t natural. But she tried, and she only tried when she had to. She felt her request was worthy.
Then she looked up — aha! Glaive woman. She was a respectable woman, and she definitely had a name, she just had to try to... remember it. Huh.
Either way, she seemed kinda glum. That wasn’t great.
Honey jumped a few stools down, and gently nudged her head against Kara’s arm. She had to wiggle around to get comfy yet again. It was kind of annoying but she wanted to sit with someone. Drinking alone was... well it wasn’t fun. But Honeybun didn’t have that many friends, if any friends at all, just colleagues.
“What are you drinking?” She reached down and pulled her tiny cup towards her, and took a little sip. “More importantly, what are you doing?”
Honey wasn’t the best at reading emotions, reading people, but like... she seemed badly off? Maybe? Maybe Honeybun could help, somehow. She wasn’t sure entirely how, but there had to be a way? Right? It wasn’t cool to be in a bad mood.
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Post by moralhazard on May 7, 2019 13:36:17 GMT
Something - furry - brushed against her arm. Kara felt a rush of fear and panic through her. She had lost track of her surroundings. She had no idea who was next to her, who - what - might be -
Kara’s hand was reaching to shove away whoever had dared to touch her in the same moment as she turned. If Honeybun had been taller, and perhaps broader, Kara wouldn’t have been able to stop herself.
As it was, her hand hovered awkwardly in the air above and slightly to the side of the rabbit. Honeybun. Kara stared down at her. The adrenaline pulsing through her faded, and she pulled her hand back, abruptly ashamed. She hadn’t struck the small creature, but the intent had been in her. If she had paid better attention - if she had been more vigilant - such a thing would not have happened.
Kara glanced back to the mug on the counter before her, still full. The foam at the top was disintegrating; the ale wasn’t warm yet, but it would be if she didn’t actually drink it soon. So far all Kara had done was stare at it.
“Ale,” Kara paused. “Dwarven ale,” she clarified. Hadn’t she learned early in Waterdeep that the two weren’t the same here? She had been lucky they had even had a decent one. Most places had something they called dwarven ale, but... she hadn’t tasted it, yet, but the color, consistency and smell were promising.
What was she doing? Kara frowned, feeling like she didn’t understand the question. “Drinking,” she answered. She wrapped a small hand around the handle of the mug, and held there, the closest she’d gotten to an actual drink yet. Alone. Her mind filled in the rest of the answer. It was an unpleasant one. Drinking alone. Again, when she had told herself she wouldn’t do it, when she hadn’t succumbed to it since early on in her days as a Freewolf.
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Post by enchilada on May 7, 2019 13:57:38 GMT
Honeybun tried to smile at Kara. Two smiles, so close in proximity. “Yeah, I can see that.” She raised the glass to her mouth, just about managing a little sip. It was warm, but strong, at least for her. She put it down again, and she stopped trying to contort her face.
She leaned her head in her hands for a minute, then asked again, “You in a mood? Yeah, I think I can relate to that.” Honeybun didn’t wait for Kara to answer, the words were enough for her to confirm what she’d hypothesised.
Then, she sighed. A mood. Honey, really, didn’t have anything to be in any kind of mood about, but she still sort of... felt them. She supposed it was the quality of life. Work was prioritised over everything, and there was not so much of a sense of community anymore. Not that she’d really experienced that in her life, either. She was born to be a pet, and she’d lived as one. She didn’t know what it was like in the warrens, in the wild. Dangerous, risky, but probably more satisfying than worrying about things with words and understanding.
Living off of instincts sounded so much more fulfilling... and why?
Honey didn’t need to turn her head to see Kara, so she didn’t. But she still saw. she still watched. “What’s spun your long face?” She narrowed her eyes, “Is it some human kind of trouble?”
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Post by moralhazard on May 7, 2019 14:08:53 GMT
Honeybun made a sort of odd motion with her face that resembled a smile, revealing her large front teeth. Kara glanced at her, then back to the mug, not sure what to make of it.
A mood? Was she in a mood? Kara thought it over. She wasn’t hungry. She had eaten twice that day, some food after waking up and again during her guard shift. She was tired, but she had slept some; she’d had worse days. Perhaps Honeybun was right. Perhaps there was no reason for her to be feeling this way. It was an odd thought.
Kara blinked at Honeybun. Her... long face? Human trouble? “Is rabbit trouble different?” Kara asked. She lifted the mug and took a sip of ale, not overthinking it this time. It was rich and dark and pleasant, very strong. She savored the sharp, bread-like taste.
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Post by enchilada on May 7, 2019 14:19:30 GMT
Honeybun shrugged. You really had to define things to be able to compare and contrast them, and she didn’t know how to define human trouble.
“Well, rabbit trouble, for me, is like, who am I supposed to be, I guess? That’s what troubles me most, it’s why I work how I do. I guess human trouble could be the same. Especially if you’re in a place like Waterdeep. I am lead to believe that most people here aren’t from here, or it seems that way, anyway. And if you’re not from here, where are you from? That’s rhetorical. In my example, I don’t know where I’m from. Am I from where I was born? Where I became a grand assistant to a grand stage magician? Am I from where I learned language? I don’t know.”
She shrugged again. She really didn’t know. Honeybun wished she knew, but she couldn’t research that. Was Waterdeep home to anyone? Was there a reason for it not to be? So many questions, and definitely not enough time to answer them.
“Is human trouble like that? Identity? Although, you’ve always got culture to fall back on.” Honeybun stretched up, and glanced into Kara’s mug. “Or, not.”
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Post by moralhazard on May 7, 2019 14:29:37 GMT
Kara had suspected it the last time they met. Now, she thought, it was confirmed.
The rabbit was smarter than she was.
Kara puzzled over why that struck her as odd. There were many out there bigger than her who thought they ought to be stronger. Kara knew better. Usually, before long, so did they. So why was it she had assumed that a rabbit wouldn’t be a... a philosopher? Kara wasn’t sure.
She hoped all rabbits weren’t secretly like this and only held back by language. From what Honeybun was saying she didn’t think so.
“For some,” Kara agreed. Identity. Who were you, what were you supposed to do? She thought of Dhaunmyr. He was open about such conflicts - he wasn’t human but she put him in the same bucket, somehow. She knew he wasn’t the only one.
Kara didn’t worry about such things. She knew who she was.
There was a pause, as Kara tried to figure out what Honeybun meant. Was it that she, a human, was drinking dwarven ale? Kara glanced down at it as well, then back at the rabbit. Honeybun was drinking wine. Which was more strange?
What was human trouble? Identity, for some. For others - for Kara, in this moment - a lack of belonging. Was belonging just identity but on a smaller scale?
Kara’s head ached, and she rubbed it, then took another sip of her ale. Better to leave this one to someone smarter,
“Is belonging identity?” Kara asked.
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Post by enchilada on May 7, 2019 16:40:03 GMT
Honeybun was quiet for a moment. She didn’t have an immediate response. All she knew was her brief observations, two years of them, or thereabouts. That was a hard question to answer, sort of a chicken or the egg kind, Honey thought, did you belong due to your identity? Or was your identity shaped by who you belonged with? How did you belong if you had no identity?
She thought she had an answer for Kara — “Yes. No. Both. You belong to the group of people who like dwarven ale, you belong to the group of people who fight with glaives, you belong to the group of people who are human. But you can narrow that down, even. So, we see that you are suddenly lots of tiny pieces. You are not just... Kara who came from here and experienced this and did that, because you are a big fleshbag of things that don’t necessarily mesh together. So we stop looking for someone exactly like ourselves, and we can look for people who have some qualities, but not all. You will never find someone exactly like you.”
Honey wanted to Ieave a pause there, she needed to figure out her thoughts again, but she also thought that Kara needed to think through these things too.
“So, let’s say you begin to make friends with people who have one or two interests in common with you, maybe a shared experience. Then, we say that is the group with which we belong. But you only belong with these people because you have fractions of identity in common. At the same time, this identity that we create, is changed by the group we belong inside. For example, an inside joke, unique shared experiences, different outlooks on life rubbing off on you.
“And we take these things. We learn from each other. Our identity warps and changes. So, really, rather than asking ‘is belonging identity’, we ask, where did you start? Who do you belong with? Did you find common ground after you met of circumstance, or did you decide to belong together out of shared interest, experience, and identity? If it’s the latter, then that’s your identity, that’s how you belong, and you will continue to flourish down that path as long as you let people come and belong with you, and let people leave, and let yourself grow. If it’s the former, well, you probably need to work with that. Find something between yourselves that creates identity, maybe find a way to belong in a larger group. And, if you have colleagues separately, in their own bubbles, that’s the first thing to pop. Have a party, dude. I’m down to rock out to get the mood goin’ if you need.”
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Post by moralhazard on May 7, 2019 17:04:17 GMT
Kara blinked at the rabbit, looking down at the ale, then over at the glaive, then down at herself, which required a slightly steeper neck angle than the ale. She blinked, and slowly mouthed the term ‘fleshbag’ to herself, frowning slightly in concentration. That resonated, in a sense. She knew plenty of others who had survived the war, even some who had survived the occupation. They had survived the same thing, but they were not the same. She supposed.
So: she didn’t need to find those exactly like her to belong with them. Kara nodded, rather eventually accepting Honeybun’s philosophical premise, once she’d had time to work it over slightly in her mind.
Kara curled her hands around the mug of ale, listening intently to the rabbit as she continued. The discussion about how shared identity evolved as part of a group was a little more confusing, but she thought she understood it. She had become a guard because she cared about protecting people. She had that in common with many of the other trainees; that had brought them together. But become guards had also changed them. She wasn’t sure such words would ever have occurred to her, but she thought she understood them from Honeybun.
Did you find common ground after you met of circumstance, or did you decide to belong together? Kara was quiet, looking at Honeybun. Her eyes lowered. The words struck a chord in her. She had found common ground with many of those she had met here in Waterdeep – more than she might have expected. But… had she decided to belong with any of them? Had she decided to find a larger group? Kara felt an odd sensation of panic tighten in her chest at the thought of it – of being part of something greater again. Her hands tightened on the mug, and she gave her head a slight shake.
No. Kara wasn’t ready.
Maybe she wouldn’t be ever again.
Kara took a deep, slow breath, studying her ale again, and nodded, slowly. Not to anything in particular that Honeybun had said, but just in acknowledgement of her wisdom. It was like a particularly graceful spell, or a move with a weapon she couldn’t use (not that there were many of those). Kara couldn’t do it herself, but she could appreciate someone else’s mastery.
“Maybe later,” she said, finally, feeling Honeybun’s offer to play at her imaginary party required some response.
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Post by enchilada on May 7, 2019 17:40:08 GMT
“Fuck yeah, dude. It’ll be awesome.” Honey took another little sip from her glass. Kara seemed pretty cool. She wouldn’t have this conversation with most people, she, in honesty, kind of didn’t care enough to have it. She just thought Kara was... her talent with the glaive was impressive, and Honeybun hated to admit to being impressed by anyone, especially people that didn’t ‘get it’, but, hell, Kara got it.
Got what? It.
“So like, I spend so much time around people who are just like straight up losers, like wizards and stuff. They spend all day, every day, just reading books? So, I ask, hey, who wants to go for a drink? And none of them, like, want to? So, yeah. Like, studying is more important than fun or whatever, like, I guess if you wanna be that way but... boringgg. But at the same time, if I knew people to go out for drinks with? They’d, like, suck at conversations like this, y’know? And this kind of understanding is super important, especially when you spend your time at work trying to understand whatever you’re supposed to be, when you’re having a good time.” Honey had a definite shift in tone. She was talking less about her study of people, and more about her life, so that was definitely different. It’s hard to talk about yourself in a scholarly way, she thought, especially when you’re really not about that life.
“But you get that, so, you’re cool. I guess you got practical friends and more fun friends? I don’t really have fun friends. The people who are practical for me to know are too smart to kinda, get distracted by me, but it’s hard to just talk to people sometimes. Maybe I need to force my way into a situation. You got any ideas of stuff I can just shove my way into? I’m kinda like, two years old and don’t know anything about life.”
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Post by moralhazard on May 7, 2019 18:34:20 GMT
Kara took a longer drink of her dwarven ale this time. She needed it, after having a bunny eviscerate her masks and see straight to the core of her with unerring accuracy.
Honeybun was chatting again. Kara turned to look at her, listening intently. She nodded. Kara didn’t know many wizards – she respected clerics, some of whom did seem to spend a fair amount of time reading. To each their own, Kara supposed. Kara nodded at Honeybun’s assessment of studying as boring, though; she certainly wouldn’t want to spend a lot of time reading. She lost track of what Honeybun was saying somewhere in the middle, but picked back up at a question.
Practical friends and fun friends. Kara thought, and then nodded. She had a practical friend – Solstice – and a fun friend – Dhaunmyr. But Solstice could be fun as well, and Dhaunmyr could be – well – no. Dhaunmyr wasn’t very practical. What about Caim? Kara considered, deeply, then slotted him in as practical as well.
Kara rubbed at the shaved part of her hair, thinking deeply. She took another sip of ale to give herself time to think. What kind of stuff did she… do? Well, Kara liked fighting and Helm. So, she went to the Gathering, or to the training spaces she’d found for Helmites in the city. She squinted at Honeybun. She wasn’t sure if Honeybun would like the Gathering very much.
The instrument! The one with skulls and bats.
“Music?” Kara suggested.
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Post by enchilada on May 7, 2019 19:23:07 GMT
“Pff, yeahhh.”
Music.
Honeybun was good at it, but in a way people totally didn’t understand. Honeybun was a prodigy at playing various instruments, but certainly, most definitely, people just didn’t get what she was trying to do. She wanted to be subversive and push boundaries! But everyone wanted to hear the same three ballads on repeat about cool knights, sweet flips, big dragons. But Honey really — was not. About. That life.
“You don’t know what I play like, dude. It’s fuckin’ rad, but, it’s not like the garbage people wanna listen to these days. It’s real music. It’s raw. I hate that people can’t understand that.”
She shook her head.
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Post by moralhazard on May 7, 2019 21:09:33 GMT
Kara blinked at Honeybun. Real music…?
Kara had been reared on all the old ballads. It was a combination of the temple of Helm and the dwarven influence in Sundabar; she had grown up her entire life listening to softly mournful songs of battles fought, won or lost, of quests and treasures and maidens, usually with lengthy descriptions of gold (dwarves), duty (Helm) and weapons and armor (both dwarves and Helm).
Since coming to Waterdeep, she’d had broader exposure to different types of music. Some of it she liked, most of it she didn’t. Kara wasn’t… really a music person, not anymore. She rarely sought it out, and tended to tune it out when she did come across it.
All the same, Kara was curious. “… Would you play something for me?” Kara paused, and then added, politely. “Please?”
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Post by enchilada on May 7, 2019 22:00:44 GMT
Honey laughed. “You only had to ask!” She downed her drink, and stood up on her stool. It made... very little difference, other than freeing up her hands and arms, a little.
She definitely had her own way of playing the thing. Gentle? Slow? Carefully pulling at the chords? Weaving together a ‘nice’ thing to listen to? None of these would describe what Honey was doing. Her claws made sense to replace any kind of pick, they were stronger and longer than human nails, and she knew for a fact that she needed to keep them working or they’d get too long.
Just because it wasn’t ‘nice’, didn’t mean it was ‘bad’, just that it wasn’t the pretty, twinkly kind of noise that was in the public eye, or rather, ear. One thing, that she knew was lacking, was a thrashing set of drums, maybe a second main instrument, but she was bringing attention to what she could do, now, not what she could create all in. She’d experimented before, but people didn’t quite understand what she was going for... probably.
Some kind of anger? Desperation? Anguish? Not quite. She wanted to be loud, she wanted to be seen. Honeybun wanted intensity. She used to psych herself up, for her first few public performances, for her first few performances, full stop, when she could play better than she could talk. But the intensity came in harder with the first chord, if you kept it stored up inside rather than punching the wall.
Maybe you could see the emotion, there, if you wanted to, but Honeybun didn’t have those to say for herself, they were for everyone else to find in the music, if they wanted.
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