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[personal profile] justwantsafety
Dream: ☁ Douze (12)
Includes: Junkyard rules discussion, Harley establishes cluelessness about human reproduction, and "escargot".
Entry was posted: 7-21-2009

Entry: (cut text="In Which Abel Gets Thrown")

Abel was starting to memorize the ceiling.

Sixteen wooden beams, six fluorescent lights, wood on white. His mind idly registered laughter to his right side, but the hum produced by the lights was lulling him into a tranquil trance.

"By all means Abel, it's a beautiful ceiling," said a virile voice. His Commander leaned downward, offering Abel his hand. Abel took it, propping himself up, suddenly embarrassed at being caught not paying attention.

His Commander sighed. "What am I going to do with you? That's the third gi you've torn while practicing." Abel looked at his left sleeve... it was attached by two, three threads max. "Hm. Maybe we should stop. You're distracted today."
"I'm sorry," Abel apologized, bowing, keeping his sight towards the floor. "I--I don't know why I'm distracted, sir."
His Commander shook his head, annoyed. "I'm tired of throwing you. Either get your head together, go get another gi top and spar with me properly, or quit wasting my time."
That had been harsh. True, but harsh. It took all of Abel's self-control not to clench his fist and punch the paper screen door. He...he hated disappointing his Commander. He was angry, not at his Commander, but at himself.

"Listen, soldier...you have a lot of power. You're damn strong, stronger than me, but you also lack discipline. You go berserk and throw your limbs around. That's great for street brawls, not so much for CQC."
His Commander stepped forward, placing a hand on Abel shoulder. "So you can let me teach you what I know, or you can die like a dog in the battlefield."
Abel said nothing. Instead he walked over to a rack filled with uniforms, took out another gi top, shed off the torn top, put on the new top and walked back towards his Commander. He went into a neutral stance, arms to his side, palms open. He bowed once.

"Now don't let me throw you again, or you get laundry duty," his Commander joked while assuming the same stance and bowing.


Abel's black belt is hanging from his closet door. Abel stares at it, child-like pride in his eyes.

"...I've gotten better, Commander."




The thread between Harley and Abel that followed this entry:
Harley:
Better at... not getting... thrown?

*taking him a second to get what that's about*

...unarmed combat, right?



Abel:
Right. Judo Ethe objective is to immobilize the opponent through throws and grappling.



Harley:
Sounds kinda like how the Wolves liked to fight.



Abel:
The Wolves? ...a tribe, correct?



Harley:
Yeah. They were in Vishuddha, on the other side of my base at Svadhisthana, from Muladhara, where the Embryon were. The Wolf Tribe's color was white... they liked painting themselves as much as their uniforms, and fighting unarmed. Most of the time, my Tribe fought with the Embryon... but we'd get into it with the Wolves too, now and then. One thing I never quite got about them... was that whenever they took down my troops and didn't kill them, they'd take them prisoner....

*little frown* ...and when we traded and they were released... the Wolves'd taken care of whatever injuries mine might've had. *quiet* They must've treated them really well. Not sure why they didn't just kill mine, but they told me I could have them back if I gave them back their own troops instead of killing them. I mean... they could've killed them... but they treated their injuries and kept them fed and everything instead.



Abel:
They were noble fighters then.

...my platoon did the same, if orders allowed us to.



Harley:
Really? So that's... common, where you're from? Taking prisoners and healing them up?



Abel:
[ Nods ] Yes. There's laws governing how prisoners of war are treated. They must be fed, clothed and sheltered. We also abstain from torture.



Harley:
Huh.

The Temple never issued many directives, as far as I'm aware, about dealing with captives. Normally, the goal in battles is just to kill as many of the other Tribes' soldiers as... you end up killing. I mean, our goal was to take down the other Tribe Leaders... and if you kill another Leader, whatever's left of their Tribe becomes yours, so I guess it would make sense to try not to kill their troops.... *quiet, thinking this over -- yet another thing he'd never really considered, it looks like.*



Abel:
That sounds counterproductive. [ Pauses ] Your wars sound like the tribal and Medieval wars of my own world.

We try to avoid armed conflict as much as we can. It sounds ironic, coming from a merc, but we only killed when we absolutely had to.

I might look like this, but it doesn't mean I enjoyed fighting and killing. [ Sadly ] It's just...the only thing I'm good at.



Harley:
No it's not. You're good at a lot of stuff. Like... making food, and sewing things!

...

But... um... how is what counterproductive, exactly?



Abel:
Harley, that's not that impressive in my world.

[ Pauses ] The Tribes were fighting to reach Nirvana, correct? In my world 'Nirvana' is a state of perfect peace. You cannot be at peace if you kill people. That's what makes it counterproductive.



Harley:
How is it not? No one did that kind of stuff where I'm from....

Well, it-- *pauses, trying to figure out what to say, exactly* It's where whatever you want is supposed to be. So it's a reward, and it doesn't make sense to give the prize to the losers in the war, so if you lose the war, of course you wouldn't go to Nirvana. I mean, otherwise, what's the point in winning? And... peace is just when there's no war, right? So we'd have that anyways, since we we'd already have won, so there wouldn't be a reason to kill anyone any more.

....

Right?



Abel:
It's quite common in my world. [ Non-committal sound ]

So it's not 'Heaven', as the place one goes to after death that is eternally peaceful, but a place where one gets what is desired most? [ Confused ]

'Killing for peace' is ironic because killing perpetuates and is the opposite of peace, violence. So that's what I meant when I said, "That's counterproductive."



Harley:
Really?

It's-- well, it's--

...

If you kill another Tribe's Leader, you don't keep fighting that Tribe. By the Junkyard Law, the victor takes over what they've conquered.... and there's no reason to kill off troops who're then yours. So since Serph and the Embryon killed me, back in the Junkyard... whatever of my men that were left, that they didn't eat... *pausing at that; not a happy memory or idea there at all, but he tries putting that aside for the explanation* ....they'd fall under his command, and he'd have my base and territory, as well.

So, the last Tribe Leader left is.... everyone who didn't get killed is in their Tribe. So there's no one else to be at war with, and no one else to kill... so then there would be peace, right?

And then that one Tribe that's left, they get to go up the Karma Temple's tower, to where Nirvana is. It's... somewhere other than the Junkyard, but you get to it through the tower top, somehow. The Dissemination Machine... is... uh... the Temple's interface, basically. And it said that we were all supposed to be trying to get there. But the tower wouldn't open until the war was won, and... um.... *here his explanation falls apart; he never gave the reasons behind things much thought. He merely accepted that these things were. Question them? Drones don't question, don't ask why, they just follow the orders they're given....*



Abel:
Now that sounds more like my world. Once we defeat our enemies' leaders we let them be, more often than not turning them into allies, helping them rebuild whatever we or they wrecked as a token of the new-formed alliance.

[ Thinks for a while ] So you guys had no choice.

...and what, Harley? [ Politely ] If you can't explain it, I understand.



Harley:
*nods* When there's only one Tribe left, they have everyone, and all the territories. And you don't destroy what's yours. It wouldn't make any sense to.

It's the way it's always been. All the Tribes were against each other, because everyone wanted to go to Nirvana, and that was the only way to get the tower open, to leave the Junkyard and go there. Get rid of the other Tribes, and....

*pauses*

I lost.

So I guess my Tribe won't be going....

*another pause, frowning more to himself* ...except if what's left of my troops keep going to whomever conquered, then by the time someone wins....

*sigh* God, I wish I could just ask the Dissemination Machine. I'm sure that'd be in its database. Would be the sure way to find out, anyway.



Abel:
It bothers you that much, huh? Not the fact that you lost, but the uncertainty of whether your friends made it to Nirvana.

[ A small smile ] That's noble. I'm sure you were a great Leader.



Harley:
*tries to smile, but it's a sad one* Well... no... not really. I lost a lot of troops... especially those last times. My comrades -- the ones I kept closest -- I don't think any of them made it. It was either at the explosion site, or when the Embryon came into my base, but I'm... pretty sure all my officers are gone. I'm... not too sure if I would call the rest of them friends. I didn't work directly with them much... *small shrug*

*quieter* I still hope they made it. Even if I did let my Tribe down by losing the war...



Abel:
It's the fact that you still hope they made it that makes you a good leader. I've served under officers that could care less if I died, since I was a merc and 'expendable'.

Stop selling yourself short. I would have loved to serve under you.



Harley:
What? Why? I lost. My men were slaughtered. That's not.... *can't even come up with how to properly protest this*



Abel:
I rather die with a leader like you than someone who sees me as expendable.



Harley:
But.... I lost.

*not getting this*

You'd rather be killed under a Leader who died trying to win and get everyone there, than whomever actually won?

Winning and taking your Tribe to Nirvana was the whole point of the war. Everyone was trying to get their Tribe to Nirvana.



Abel:
I rather die under a leader who cared about me than win under a leader who sees me as expendable and takes all the glory for himself.



Harley:
....

*still not getting this*

....

What's glory?

*because that somehow seems important to the point Abel's trying to make to him. Maybe if he got that, he'd understand this better?*



Abel:
Glory is honor, renown for what you have done.



Harley:
So it's... reputation?

...

*scratches his head a little* ...I don't think anyone really cared much about that. I mean, there was the Tribe rankings -- whose was bigger, and... efficiency scores and stuff, but that's not really.... *at a loss as to how to explain that*



Abel:
Yes.

I understand, but I had to uphold the honor of my fellow mercs. Honor, loyalty, a sense of duty...those are the best traits a soldier can display.



Harley:
But I thought--

...

So it's not that you can do your assignments the best, and keep from getting killed? *still trying to figure this out* I'd always ranked my men on efficiency... as long as they'd survive to stay in the ranks. They always did their jobs as long as they could, so... *well, there goes the "sense of duty" ranking, right?*

*see, now he's wondering if he was doing it wrong -- but he's not sure how to grade the other things Abel listed there. Besides, how do you rank "follows orders without question" when they all follow orders as well as they're able?*



Abel:
No, that's important too. You were doing the right thing.



Harley:
But you just said that the other things were... uh...



Abel:
They're both important.



Harley:
....

So I got it half right?



Abel:
No, you got it right. A Commander has to take every soldier's strength into account, and how that can help the platoon.



Harley:
But that's how everyone-- *pause, trying to figure out what he's even trying to say.*

...

If a Leader didn't pick the best of his men for his officers, so they'd stand the greatest chance of winning, then they were setting their Tribe up for failure. The point was for the best of the best -- the strongest Tribe -- to win the war and reach Nirvana.

But you would've wanted to be in my Tribe then, because... I did what I could to try to make sure my Tribe made it to Nirvana? Just like everyone else did? I mean... it's what Lupa and Varin did too. And Mick and Jinana and Serph... only, Jinana and Serph are here too, so they probably didn't make it more than I did, right? *oh, how little he knows.* But if Varin won, because his Tribe was the highest-ranked anyway... and he did the same thing, trying to get his there... you wouldn't rather have been with him?



Abel:
Believe it or not there's tons of 'leaders' in my world that forget that.

Being a leader is more than just strategy. Being a good leader is...like being a brother, or a father.

No, I would have rather been with you.



Harley:
But all my men were--

...I'd want you to make it through alive, not end up eaten with everyone else. And if you'd been in my Tribe, you'd...

...

*still not getting why Abel would've wanted to be on his team, given what happened. The arguments don't quite seem to add up, somehow.*

What's a... brother?



Abel:
That doesn't matter anymore.

[ Looks down ] A male sibling, a boy who shares the same parents as you.

That is in the traditional sense.



Harley:
....

And parents are...?



Abel:
A mother and father, either one who gives birth to or one who nurtures and raises a child.



Harley: (note: he was thinking of berths, which are kind of shelf-like beds, bunk-like. Yay homophones?)
I haven't seen anything with any of those labels in the Vendor supply lists. I'm pretty sure we just call the beds... beds. Or bunks.

Unless you're talking about giving space?



Abel:
[ Blinks a couple of times, wide-eyed ]

No, no, they're not items, they're people. A man and a woman, as a matter of fact, who birthed you and raise you.



Harley:
...

I don't get it. What do you mean?



Abel:
Parents are the humans who give you birth, who created you.

...you didn't know that humans came from other humans, correct?



Harley:
But they don't. They come from--

From....

Outside the bases.

...

...I think. *never really looked into it*



Abel:
In my world humans create other humans. It's called 'giving birth', and...the woman does it.

[ Am I seriously going to have this talk with Harley? ]



Harley: (Abel's getting Harley's "whaaaaat?" look a lot here....)
...how do they do that?

...none of mine could even make a new limb.



Abel:
....



Abel:
...do you really want to know?



Harley:
Well, if they can make whole new people, then it should be pretty easy to just make new parts, too, right? Or... maybe that's just something women where you're from can do? Because I never heard of anyone in the Junkyard doing that.

Wait, if you know how it's done, does that mean you could-- wait, why do only females do it?



Abel:
Harley, it doesn't work like that. Women...

[ Pauses. What would be the simplest way to explain this...

...there isn't one, is there?
]

Women...get pregnant, and for about nine months they carry a baby, a small human. After nine months they give birth to the baby, and yes, only woman can do this.



Harley:
So they... carry it around and then give it room?

Where do they get pregnant from? I've never heard of one of that in the Vendor lists either.



Abel:
In their uterus, yes.

[ Awkward silence ] Men. Men get women pregnant.



Harley:
....

But where do you get it? *still thinks it's an item or something, apparently*



Abel: (Naomi, from the MGS games. She's a doctor.)
[ Places a hand on his face, trying to drive down this furious blush ]

It's not an item, it's...it's...why is Naomi not here? She could explain it.

It's a process.



Harley:
*wondering why Abel's turning so pink. This isn't a good sign, is it. And Abel's wellbeing definitely comes before any explanations he might be trying to give!*

....are you okay?



Abel:
I'm fine. It's just...a bit hard to explain.

I'm trying to remember how it was explained to me.

[ Or maybe that's not such a good idea ]



Harley:
Are you sure? You're--

*wait. wait wait. there's something else associated with turning pink too, isn't there. Dangit, what was it?*

*....oh yeah.*

Did I... say something wrong?



Abel:
[ Shakes his head ] No, none at all. It's just...

...hm.



Harley:
..."hm?"

*going to wait for Abel to say something else*



Abel:
I'm sorry, I'm really bad at explaining these things.



Harley:
It's okay, I'm not the best at explaining things either, sometimes.



Abel:
My Commander explained it to me, and then he gave me a book about it. I ignored what the mercs said about it for the most part.



Harley:
....a book about how to make people? *still not entirely sure if he's got this right* Or is it just about what pregnant is?



Abel:
The whole process behind it, including pregnancy.

[ Awkward pause ] I'm sorry, it's...it's harder to explain than I thought.



Harley:
Oh.

...

Where'd he get a book about making people?



Abel:
The library.



Harley:
Oh.

*lil pause again*

And a library's somewhere with a whole lot of books, isn't it? *wondering how he knows that*



Abel:
[ Nods ] Yes.



Harley:
....what else is there books about, in a library? *yay for wandering thought processes?*



Abel:
Lots of things. Nature, animals, people, history... [ Visibly at ease again ]



Harley:
Really?

So it's... kind of like the Dissemination Machine's databases, only... books, instead of the Machine for an interface?



Abel:
Yes. It's a database, of sorts, but things are written in books rather than a computer.



Harley:
...

Can we go check it out sometime?



Abel:
We can go today, if you want. I need to find out a couple of things myself.



Harley:
Really? Like what? *asking just to ask*



Abel:
Like how to raise escargot. I found someone who can cook them.



Harley:
...

What's an escargot?

*cooking = food = whatever it is, it must be really good?*



Abel:
Edible snails.



Harley:
*you knew this was coming.*

What's a snail?



Abel:
A snail is a mollusk, an animal. It looks like...

... [ Awkward pause ]

Hold on. [ Reaches for a piece and paper and searches for a pencil. Scribbles something in the piece of paper ] Looks like this.

[ Shows him the piece of paper ]




Harley:
*never seen anything like that before.*

...where do those come from?



Abel:
Outside. They like moist areas. You can find them in forests as well.



Harley:
...

How big are they?



Abel:
[ Holds his thumb and index about two centimeters and a half apart ] About this big.

Two and a half centimeters, or an inch.



Harley:
*thinking thinking.... click!*

Are those what you were eating in that other dream a while ago?



Abel:
Yes. They're good with garlic and butter.



Harley:
*hmm. Butter. He knows what butter is. And garlic is that stuff in the cabinet, according to the label on that little itty tube container... thing. And snails are tiny and in moist places and taste good?*

...

*the garden is moist, isn't it? ....uh oh, he's got that Getting Ideas look.*

Okay....



Abel:
[ Eyebrow raise ]



Harley:
....is isn't hard to cook them, is it?



Abel:
I think they are fried, or at least that's what the sous chef said...

But I do know it can't just be any snail. There is a process behind eating escargot, I just don't know exactly what.

That's why I want to go to the library, to find out more about how to raise them, what I need, etcetera.



Harley:
So it's only certain snails, and it's fried? Like eggs and bacon are fried, right? So it's in the pan?

*simple enough. Just get the snail things that look like the ones in his dream, and cook them with butter and garlic in the pan, like he'd cook eggs and bacon. Only... not like he cooks eggs. These shouldn't be black.*



Abel:
[ Nods ] Yes.



Harley:
Okay, thanks. *gonna hang up -- he looks a little distracted now; Abel must've given him something to think about.*



Abel:
Umm, no problem?

[ Confused ]



Abel:
*calls back fifteen, maybe twenty minutes, something like that, later~*

Abel?



Abel:
Yes?



Harley:
They're really not that hard to cook... but I don't think they taste very good. This is one of those things like... coffee, isn't it? Some people like it, but it's sort of... uh.... *not sure how to put it*



Abel: (after a post or two of different reaction-icons while he makes sense of that statement)
Did...you just cook snails!? Snails from outside?

[ Runs to the kitchen ]



Harley:
*still in the kitchen, a fork in his hand... he didn't make a mess, at least? Used the itty frying pan and a small spatula, so all that's left is some butter and garlic in the pan, and a small lump, shell still on it, lying in the puddle... and one little brown-gray escapee crawling across the counter, away from the stovetop. ....only, the latter is a slug.*

Yeah, you said-- *pauses... oh hi there, Abel!* You said it was those specific ones from your dream, right? And these ones looked -just like- those, and I even found some that already didn't have those hard things on their backs. *eyes the one in the pan* Those hard things are kind of crunchy. No wonder you take them off.



Abel: (more icon-reactions: disbelief, rising alarm, a bit of what the crap. And then:)
Harley...you ate them, shells and all!?

[ OH MY GOD ]



Harley: (subject: @f @f @f <3)
Well, they were kind of hard to get out... but taking them off wasn't much better.

*eyes the two little shells sitting there on the counter, empty... pokes one with his fork* Maybe I should've used more garlic. *hmmmm. P:*




Abel: (subject: @f @f @f OMFG)
[ Oh my god, is that...a slug crawling on the counter!? ]

[ Grabs Harley by the shoulders, looking worried ] Are you okay!? Do you feel sick!?



Harley: (subject: @f @f @f XD)
*blinkblink. This, he was not expecting!*

I'm fine, why? What's "sick"?



Abel: (subject: @f @f @f MON DIEU)
[ Frantic ] Do you feel like throwing up!? My god, Harley, this is all my fault!



Harley: (subject: @f @f @f = yum?)
*so totally lost here, and now Abel's worrying him.*

No, I don't. I... what's wrong? I didn't throw up because of coffee, so why would I throw up because of these? They're just snails, and... you ate them too, that time. Didn't you say they were supposed to be good?



Abel: (subject: @f @f @f NOT LIKE THAT)
You can't eat them like this! They'll make you sick! [ Says nothing at Harley's comment. ]

[ Lightly shakes Harley ]



Harley: (subject: @f @f @f BUTBUT--!)
*not liking this -- Abel's worrying him.*

But-- you said they had to be fried and... and....

What's sick? *he knows it's not something positive, but it isn't quite coming to mind.*



Abel: (subject: @f @f @f B|)
Yes, but you have to prepare them first! Clean then! You can't just...pick snails from the garden and eat them!

[ Looks Harley over -- okay, he's not pale, and he doesn't seem like he wants to throw up ] Feeling bad, so bad you want to lie down, or throw up, or have a fever...you don't have a fever, right!? [ Hand on Harley's forehead ]



Harley: (subject: @f @f @f ._.;)
But I did clean them off!

*totally putting up with all of this -- no fever, of course.*

*quieter* Am I in trouble?



Abel: (subject: @f @f @f :O)
[ Ignoring Harley's first statement. Hand still on forehead ] I...I don't think so.

[ And that was the strange part. Eating snails, shell and all and not getting sick? What ]



Harley: (subject: @f @f @f :3?)
...you don't think so?

*but Abel was all upset, and... and... he'd done something wrong, hadn't he?*

*finds himself eyeing that last little snail in the pan; something in the back of his mind's insisting he eat that one too. :|*



Abel: (subject: @f @f @f .3.)
[ Shakes his head ] No.



Harley: (subject: @f @f @f <3?)
....but you were all upset.

*try to ignore the snail. try to ignore the snail. try to ignore the snail. :|*



Abel: (subject: @f @f @f :D)
[ Looks at the last snail ] I suppose there's no...point in getting all worked up about it anymore. Just...try to tell me next time you cook escargot. I don't want you to get sick.



Harley: (subject: @f @f @f XD)
But I did wash them off really well....

*still not sure why this is a problem*

...

*absently scratches a lil at the back of his left hand, not bothering to look at it -- the Atma mark was getting faintly glowy, but fades away quickly enough. ....dangit. Must ignore that snail!*



Abel: (subject: @f @f @f XD)
That's probably why you're not getting a stomach ache then.

[ Then again people in his world ate other humans...maybe a couple of snail shells wouldn't be much ]

...so, you didn't like them?



Harley: (subject: @f @f @f ~)
I don't know. They're kind of... weird. Maybe I didn't put enough garlic on them.

*quiet a sec*

If you think they're good, maybe I didn't do it right, is all. Like how I keep cooking the eggs too much.



Abel: (subject: @f @f @f /o/)
No, it's alright. [ Starts idly cleaning around while he talks, catching the run-away slug in a plastic container ] They're an...acquired taste.



Harley: (subject: @f @f @f @f)
But... maybe I should try them if someone else cooks them first? I bet they'd be better then. *starts cleaning up too, taking the pan and...*

*...putting the empty pan in the sink, with the spatula and fork.*

...

*muffled little crunch crunch* ....



Abel: (subject: @f @f @f @f..........................f)
That might not be a bad idea...

Hey Harley, could you tell me where you found them? I'm probably going to have to raise snails.

[ At least some good came out of this ordeal ]



Harley: (subject: @f @f @f @f ................................................f)
...

*crunch crunch swallow*

Well, you said someplace moist, so I looked out in the back yard... I found these ones under the long grass by that wall. *points out the kitchen window to the spot*

....do you want me to find you some too?



Abel: (subject: @f @f @f @f)
[ Was that a crunch? ]

Yes, I'd like that.



Harley: (subject: @f @f @f @f)
*Yes. Yes it was.*

How many?

*getting out a plastic container and a lid for it... pauses to take a bit of shell out of his mouth and throw it away* Should I get the kind without shells too?



Abel: (subject: @f @f @f @f)
Just two for now, but not the kind without a shell -- those are slugs, and they're not edible.



Harley: (subject: @f @f @f ?)
They're not? But... *but he just had a couple of those too.*

They don't really taste much different. Are you sure?



Abel: (subject: @f @f @f ~)
I'm sure. I heard they have parasites and are poisonous.



Harley: (subject: @f @f @f ~)
*longish pause* ....even if you cook them first?



Abel: (subject: @f @f @f ~)
I would assume so.



Harley: (subject: @f @f @f ~)
....and you can tell if you ate something bad, when you feel bad after?



Abel: (subject: @f @f @f ~)
Yes. That's why I was worried about you.



Harley: (subject: @f @f @f ~)
...

I don't think those ones were bad, then.



Abel: (subject: @f @f @f ~)
Okay, but if you do feel bad, tell me.



Harley: (subject: @f @f @f ~)
*nods* I will.

*gonna go find some more of those snails now! ...and pauses before getting out the door*

....and you're sure you only want two snails?



Abel: (subject: @f @f @f ~)
Yes, two is fine.

[ No point in grabbing a bunch and then finding out they are not the edible kind ]



Harley: (subject: @f @f @f ~)
*nods again, gonna head out and do that~*
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Harley, Leader of the Vanguards

April 2015

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