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No one ever made it more than a few steps into an Izarite temple without being approached by a priest, but given the way he looked by that hour of the morning, Shook couldn’t blame them for being particularly on the ball. He was still in a tailored suit, at least, and had made sure his hair was still slicked back with the aid of his pocket comb and the tin of Sly’s Gentleman’s Cream he always carried—plus a judicious use of his reflection in store windows—but after the night he’d had, he was unshaven, hollow-eyed from lack of sleep, and teetering on his feet. As such, he didn’t even make it fully in the door before a priestess materialized seemingly out of nowhere and gently took him by the arm.
“Welcome,” she said in a soft tone, leading him to the side out of the doorway. “This is a safe place; you can rest here. We’ll take good care of you. What’s your name?”
“Uh…call me Jerry,” he stammered, embarrassingly unprepared for that simple question. With, by this point, Syrinx and her bullshit Inquisition doubtless added to the list of people hunting for his head, which already included the Sisterhood and the Guild, neither his full name nor his tag were safe things to throw around. Of course, in the last couple of years he’d almost never had to interact with the general public, except briefly and in passing, and usually Kheshiri had handled that.
“Jerry,” the woman said, smiling up at him warmly as though she were genuinely delighted to make his scruffy acquaintance. His customary annoyance at the two-faced trickiness of women in general started to well up, but he deliberately pushed it away. She was Izarite, after all; the expression was probably genuine. They were a bunch of feather-headed nutbars, but it was impossible to hate them for it. “I’m Nakhi, and I’m so glad you came. Come sit with me for a moment, and let’s talk.”
“Yeah, about that.” He planted his feet, causing her also to stop, still with a light grip on his arm. “I’m not lookin’ for the usual run of TLC, here. Who’s in charge of this temple?”
Nakhi looked quizzically up at him, stepping closer. “Brother Lokoru is the head priest, but he’s usually not up at this time of morning. We keep unconventional hours here, as you may have heard. But I’ll be more than glad to help you with anything, Jerry. Whatever’s going on, I can tell it has you under a lot of pressure. You’re in exactly the right place to have that turmoil relieved. That is what we do in Izara’s name, after all.”
She gave him that warm, gentle smile again, and he noted she was actually sort of pretty. Not a woman he’d have looked twice at on the street, but Izarites had a way about them; something about that relentless kindness of theirs was irresistibly attractive regardless of what they looked like.
“Thank, doll,” he said, gently extricating his arm from her grip. “Look, I know you got a job to do and I’m sure you’re good at it, but I’m gonna have to pass on having that turmoil relieved. I’m still using it. Can you maybe answer a couple questions about Izarite business in Ninkabi?”
“Well…it depends on the questions,” the priestess replied, her expression growing concerned. Exactly like a nurse whose patient wouldn’t take their medicine. “Obviously, we place a high value on privacy here. I would never repeat anything you shared with me in confidence, and I can’t betray any other guest’s confidence to you, either. But the cult itself doesn’t have many secrets. I meant what I said, Jerry: if there’s anything I can do to help you, then that’s what I’m here for. Are you in some kind of trouble?”
Omnu’s balls, was he in some kind of trouble. Nothing she could actually help with, though, and trying would likely just land him in hot water with the Church or one of the Pantheon cults with which he was already having problems.
“If there was some higher-up in town,” he said, evading the question, “some big important Izarite personnel from the capital, and they were being discreet and didn’t want their presence known, what’d be my best chance of meetin’ up with ’em?”
Nakhi blinked twice. “I’m…not sure I understand the question, Jerry. If somebody important were here and specifically wanted to avoid being known or seeing anyone, then it sounds like you couldn’t meet them. And I probably couldn’t, either, for that matter. I’m definitely not aware of anybody like that being in Ninkabi.”
“And if you were, you couldn’t tell the likes of me, anyway. Well, it was worth a try. Thanks anyway.”
“Are you looking for someone in particular, Jerry?” she asked. “We just don’t have a lot of celebrities or important officials within the Brethren. I can’t think of anybody who might match your description other than High Priestess Delaine or Bishop Snowe, and they’re both in Tiraas.”
“Nah, don’t worry about it,” he said, forcing a grin. “Sorry to waste your time, sister. Have a good one.”
He turned to go, but she reached out and caught his arm again. Anger surged; he did not appreciate being grabbed.
“Are you sure you won’t stay and talk for a while?” Nakhi asked, her voice as tender as a doting mother’s. “Whatever else is going on, Jerry, it’s obvious you could do with some rest, and probably a hot meal. We can provide both. And even if you weren’t looking to unburden yourself, I bet you’d be amazed at the difference it can make.”
Fucking whore, exactly like all the rest of them, looking to ferret out whatever secrets she could exploit. Izarites were supposedly empathic as a gift of their goddess; she had to be aware of how angry she was making him, but there was no sign on her face of any concern. As if to prove she was operating on some hidden agenda…
Breathe. Let it go.
Everyone is absolutely out for themselves, Sweet’s advice whispered in his memory, but you have to put yourself in their perspective, think about what they want. People are social animals, Thumper. You’d be amazed how many of their selfish agendas will actually impel them to do nice things for others and except nothing in return.
She was an Izarite. This was her hidden agenda. Losing his cool over this was his own weakness, exactly the thing his teachers had tried to get him past, and Kheshiri had worked so hard to exacerbate. It was past time he paid due honor to the men who’d been actually trying to help him.
“I appreciate it, honey,” he said, once more removing her hand from his arm as gently as he could. She didn’t resist, giving him no reason to handle her at all roughly. He patted her hand once before letting it go. “You’re a sweetheart, but you don’t have what I need. Take care, now.”
Shook turned and strode back outside into the sunlight before she could try again to dissuade him, not slowing his steps to a more typical walking pace until he had rounded the temple’s corner and was pacing down its length on the sidewalk.
It wasn’t much of a play, but it was the best he could think of on short notice. It was pretty clear that going back to the Inquisition wasn’t an option. With Kheshiri run off and the Jackal himself evidently having snapped under the pressure of his own scheme, to say nothing of that rabid loon Syrinx now holding the reins, he had to face the fact that this entire keep-tabs-on-the-Archpope plan had gone belly up without producing any results.
That pretty much left him with Khadizroth as the only person to turn to. He already knew it was within K’s power to locate him in the city, and didn’t know why he hadn’t yet done so, though he could think of several possibilities. The least dismal was that the dragon was just too preoccupied keeping Syrinx from burning Ninkabi the fuck down to come looking; it was also possible he knew Shook had spent the night with the Wreath and assumed the worst about him. That left him with one, more slender hope.
Khadizroth was of the opinion that Snowe was a much cleverer operator than she let on, and Shook respected his opinion highly. She’d pretty much have to be, anyway, to have come out here in order to put Syrinx down—itself a worthy goal in his view. He was gambling that she was sufficiently on the ball to make sure she’d be informed of interesting developments in whatever city she was in. Such as a scruffy person matching his description sniffing around for her at Izarite temples, for example.
He pulled out the pamphlet he’d acquired at a small Universal Church chapel, which gave the addresses of all the temples of Izara in Ninkabi, double-checking the next on the list. Yep, he was heading the right way, at least if his recollection of the street layout was solid.
Now there wasn’t much left but to hope Snowe found his trail before the Inquisition, the Guild, or the Avenists did. Or the Wreath. Or the Jackal, since the gods only knew what that demented fuck was up to right now and given his personality, killing off his former allies was an ample likelihood. Or this mysterious necromantic cult of Justinian’s, since that was evidently a real thing and was actually up to big trouble in this city.
Nothing could ever be easy, could it.
It was her own fault for leaving Kheshiri unsupervised for five minutes, Natchua reflected when she returned to the kitchen to find everyone assembled and the whole group in the process of exploding.
The entire story was obvious at a glance. The bit players had carefully removed themselves to three corners of the room: the three hobgoblins huddled together with their heads down in one, Sherwin in another watching the unfolding show as avidly as a theater patron during the fight scene, while Xyraadi perched daintily on a stool near the fireplace, sipping tea from a cracked mug with the aloof aspect of someone who wanted something to occupy her hands and mouth a lot more than she wanted tea.
It was just in front of the hall door, opposite the external door through which Natchua and Melaxyna emerged, that the real drama was playing out. Jonathan and Hesthri faced each other across the gap, he with his fists clenched and apparently on the verge of lunging at her, she just looking resigned. Natchua was in no way worried about that; aside from Hesthri’s physical invulnerability, she knew Jonathan Arquin would never get any closer than that to striking someone he cared about, especially a woman. That it had gone this far was a testament not only to how upset he was, but how suddenly the provocation must have come on, clearly before his prized self-control had a chance to re-assert itself.
And between them, just far enough back in the doorway not to obstruct their view of each other, Kheshiri looked confused and worried, glancing back and forth as if this outcome were a complete surprise to her. Given who and what she was, that was unlikely to be fooling anyone. It was certainly not fooling Natchua, who could read the malicious glee coursing through her aura like a newspaper headline.
Well, Mel had warned her Kheshiri’s campaign would begin with deliberately making a nuisance of herself.
“Oh dear,” Kheshiri said worriedly, wringing her hands. “Should…I not have said anything? I’m sorry, I don’t know all the history here…”
Jonathan tore his eyes from Hesthri to turn an incredulously furious stare upon Natchua. “Is this true?”
“Is what…” He physically swelled, and she broke off, shaking her head. “No, Jonathan, I am not being disingenuous. I’m pretty sure I know what this is about, but since the rogue succubus obviously started it, I’m not willing to assume.”
“That’s what this is about,” Hesthri said quietly. “And yes, Jonathan, it’s true.”
Amazingly, he managed to puff up even further, his face flushing almost crimson with the pressure of not lashing out. At least he managed to keep it strictly verbal.
“What is wrong with you?” he roared, addressing himself to the ceiling.
Natchua chose to assume, regardless, that it was directed at her.
“Well, if I knew the full answer to that, I’d already be at work fixing it, now wouldn’t I?” she asked wearily. “Nothing you don’t already know about, really. And I did try to warn you.”
“Nothing is wrong with me,” Hesthri said, her voice still soft. “Not now that I’m with you, and safe from my former mistress, and able to help Gabriel. All of it thanks to Natchua. What’s more,” she added in a firmer tone, stepping forward to compel his attention, “a lot less is wrong with Natchua than either she or you thinks, and none of it able to be addressed by carrying on this way. This isn’t how I wanted to you find out, obviously, but I was also not going to hide it from you, Jonathan. Since this is how it’s begun, though, let’s talk about it.”
“You want to talk.” He clutched his head for a moment, fingers clenching into bloodless claws. “…no. This is more shit than I can deal with.”
“Jonathan,” Hesthri said urgently as he rounded on Kheshiri. “Please, you can’t—”
“Later,” he snapped, not looking at her. “I can’t even look at you right now. Get out of the way!” he roared at Kheshiri, who quailed backward, still blocking the door.
The nigh-hysterical mirth roiling in her aura rose to such a pitch that Natchua was honestly impressed she managed to keep acting, but indeed she did, quivering and stammering and giving a very good impression of a woman too panicked by the sight of the man cornering her even to flee.
Natchua wasn’t sure what would result from the succubus continuing to antagonize Jonathan right now, but was not about to indulge her. A simple extension of her will caused the shadows to flicker and gather, sweeping Kheshiri away to stand at the opposite side of the room, well out of his path.
“Jonathan,” Hesthri said as he stomped out down the corridor toward the ruined great hall. She only spoke his name, though, not raising her voice or trying to call him back.
“Mistress, I’m so sorry,” Kheshiri burbled frantically, “I didn’t realize—”
“Silence,” Natchua ordered with neither emphasis nor inflection. “I’ll deal with you in a moment. Melaxyna, would you please go make sure Jonathan doesn’t do anything…unwise?”
“He will not,” Hesthri stated, turning to her. “And he definitely doesn’t want to be hovered over. Just let him calm down on his own time.”
“I agree,” Natchua replied. “Which is why I asked Melaxyna, whose presence he won’t detect if she doesn’t wish it. I trust Jonathan, but I’ve never seen him that angry, and the woods around Veilgrad are not safe even by the standards of woods in general.”
Hesthri nodded at that, as did Melaxyna, pausing only to squeeze Natchua’s shoulder once. She slipped across the room, diverting momentarily to the corner to peck Sherwin on the cheek, then departed silently into the hallway, fading to invisibility as she went.
“Xyraadi,” Natchua said, turning to the khelminash, with a deep bow of her head, “this is more menial than the work you’re used to, I know, but can I ask you to supervise the horogki’s work today?”
“Pas de probleme,” Xyraadi assured her, rising smoothly and setting her cup on the mantle. “After helping Mortimer in Second Chances, I fancy I have acquired a knack for administration.”
“Oh, uh, about that, boss lady,” Pizzicato squeaked. Natchua turned to find her hunched as if expecting to be kicked; Glissando and Staccato were actually trying to hide behind her. “We, uh, sorta need some quality time with Mr. Moneybags, here. We gotta see about orderin’ some stuff to work with—stone, lumber, glass, tools, nails an’ shit. Cleanup’s well and good and a lotta that rubble is reusable but not even we can rebuild a house outta good intentions and slobber.”
“That’s Lord Moneybags, actually,” Natchua corrected her, smiling in spite of herself.
“Hey, just Sherwin’s fine,” he demurred. “The House of Moneybags doesn’t stand on formality. What’s left of it. And anyway, uh, I don’t really know what to tell you. I have my lawyers arrange for my supplies and stuff. If I need something in particular that’s not on the regular delivery I have them order it. If you just write down what you need…”
“I can certainly attend to that myself,” Xyraadi said, smiling. “If you girls will just tell me what you need, I shall arrange a full list for Sherwin to deliver to his steward.”
“Oh,” Pizzicato croaked, looking less than reassured. “Well, then. Great. Okay.”
“Is there a problem?” Natchua asked.
All three of them suddenly straightened up, frantically waving. “No, no! No problem! Everything’s fine and dandy!”
“There is not a problem,” Hesthri interjected, “but I see why they would fear otherwise. Girls,” she went on more gently, turning to the hobgoblins, “Xyraadi is not like the other khelminash. She fled from their cities and from Hell itself to come here and live free of them. I have found her to be kind and entirely reasonable; she won’t treat you the way the mistresses back home did. Right?” she added, turning a pointed look on Xyraadi.
“Oh, absolutement,” Xyraadi agreed hastily. “I apologize, ladies, for failing to consider your perspective. I, of all people! No, we are all five of us exiles from the same nightmare, are we not? And good riddance to it. I see no reason we cannot all be friends; it is not a hard thing to treat one another with a little basic respect.”
“Xyraadi has my trust as well,” Natchua added, seeing that the three hobs looked less than convinced. It would likely take time and exposure to bring them around; she just needed to apply a little encouragement to get them started. “But if anyone here has any problem with anyone else, you bring it right to me and I will take care of it. Okay? You’re not slaves here. It’s not possible for you to leave and roam this plane, I’m afraid, but if you wanted to go back to where you came from, I’ll arrange it.”
That prompted another round of frantic demurrals, and Hesthri winced.
“I’m sorry,” Natchua said ruefully, “that sounded like a threat, didn’t it? I promise it wasn’t. Don’t worry, girls, I’m not going to banish you unless you ask me to. I just mean, this is a small community and we need to get along. So long as everybody pulls their weight, I will make sure you’re treated as well as I can reasonably arrange. Fair?”
“Come, why don’t you show me what you have done so far?” Xyraadi suggested, smiling at the quailing hobgoblins and gesturing toward the door. “I would be delighted to hear your plans for the ongoing repairs.”
“Hes,” Natchua said, “would you mind going along? Not that I think they need more supervision, but they might feel better with you there.”
“Not at all. In fact, I’d be grateful to have something to do with myself right now.” She gave Natchua a warm smile before gently shepherding the still-uncertain horogki toward the great hall.
Sherwin cleared his throat as Xyraadi followed them out. “Well! I guess I’ll, uh…”
“That’s okay, Sherwin, it’s your room, after all. Don’t put yourself out; I’ll just get the rest of this mess out of your hair. Come, Kheshiri.”
The sunlight wasn’t as glaring as it had once been; the actual shadow spell to protect her eyes from the brilliance hadn’t been part of the repertory of infernomacny Elilial had given her, but it had been easy enough to work out. She didn’t even need dark glasses anymore.
“Mistress, I apologize,” Kheshiri said demurely. “It seems I misread the situation and spoke out of turn. If any trouble has resulted—”
“Yes, I know,” Natchua interrupted in a disinterested tone. Narisian reserve didn’t exactly prepare her for this kind of playacting, but she made do by trying to channel the attitude she felt best fit her needs: Tellwyrn’s. One of Tellwyrn’s specific attitudes, in fact, the slightly irritated dismissal she showed to problems that were only just barely worth addressing. As if this pivotal conversation with this highly dangerous individual were a fleeting annoyance, beneath her attention. “You’ve only seen me using brute force to solve problems, so you assumed that was the only trick I had, and therefore assumed you’re smarter than I. And that was fine, while you were an unwanted stray I had to gather up. Now, however, I have a task for you, and so it’s time for you to learn some things.”
“Oh?” Kheshiri murmured. “I will be glad to serve you in any way I can, mistress.”
Her expression, now, was surprised and intrigued, and for once the emotion in her aura was exactly the same.
The thing was, Kheshiri absolutely was smarter than she, and had to at least suspect it. But if she thought Natchua was dim enough not to recognize the disparity in their scheming ability, she might relax her efforts enough to make a mistake. Plus, by taking a leaf out of Hesthri’s book and abruptly changing her entire demeanor every so often, apropos of nothing, she might stave off the succubus from getting a true handle on her actual personality.
Gods, this was going to be exhausting.
By the time early afternoon rolled around, Shook was seriously considering trying to catch a nap in an alley like some kind of bum. Keeping moving the whole day was exactly the exhausting icing his already exhausting cake did not need; after visiting every Izarite temple in Ninkabi to sow the necessary seeds of suspicion, he had carried on a gradual circuit of the city, pacing between the temples in the hope that anybody who came looking for him would be less likely to catch him unawares as long as he was moving. If he got the first look, he could meet up with Snowe or Vannae if it was one of them, or flee from anyone else. But gods, he was about ready to drop right where he stood. It wasn’t like this was his first all-nighter, but it also wasn’t as if he were as young as he’d once been.
And ultimately it didn’t even work. He was shambling along, too out of it even to register where he was going anymore, much less what was happening around him, when a luxury enchanted carriage driven by a man in nondescript livery pulled up to the curb alongside him.
One of its windows swung outward, and Branwen Snowe’s face appeared in the gap. “May I offer you a ride, Mr. Shook?”
He was too tired to hesitate or even upbraid himself for being snuck up on after all his preparations. He just turned toward the carriage and grasped the door handle, Snowe already retreating along the seat. Shook clambered in and slumped against its plush cushions, only belatedly remembering to pull the door shut.
“Gods, am I glad to see you, lady,” he said as the carriage pulled smoothly back into traffic. “How’d you find me?”
“Khadizroth has been instrumental in tracking you. I must say, though, your plan to draw my attention was impressively clever. I’ve already had several confused reports of your movements. I’d like to think that even without our dragon friend, I would have been sharp enough to locate you.”
She smiled, and it was even better than the smiles he’d been getting from Izarite priests all morning, for all that it had that same ineffably gentle Izarite quality to it. The difference, he figured, was that Branwen Snowe was also out and out gorgeous, and clearly worked at it. None of the others had worn cosmetics, or applied more to their hair than water and a comb. She looked like she was on the way to one of her book signings or public addresses. He’d known plenty of women like this; they always looked that way.
“So K’s with you,” he said wearily. “Good. Makes this a lot easier.”
“Yes, it will be good to have everyone’s information in the same room,” she agreed. “I gather you must have had a very interesting night. And Khadizroth will be able to update you on events within Basra’s Inquisition since you slipped out.”
Shook grunted. “I bet Syrinx is about ready to chew her fuckin’ foot off.”
“She was close to that point before all this started.”
Despite the fatigue, he studied her face closely. “I guess that’s the best news you’ve had all week, right? You must really hate the bitch to go to all this trouble.”
Snowe sighed very softly, turning her blue eyes to the passing scenery outside the window. “Even if I were inclined toward hate…no. That seems like an emotion for enemies. Other people. Basra Syrinx is just a mad, deadly thing which has run amok for far too long. All I feel is pity for those she has harmed, and…remorse. This summer I stood in the Grand Cathedral while the paladin of her own faith demanded she be brought to justice, and heard the fellow Bishop whose opinion I respect the most point out something which has stayed with me ever since: all those of us who tolerated Basra because she was politically useful, even knowing what a monster she is, are complicit in her crimes. Her destruction is redemption, to me. That’s all.”
“I can respect that,” he said, nodding and letting his eyes close of their own accord. Shook was just too bone-weary to dissemble; that actually was a sentiment to which he could relate. “Oh…right. You’d best not bring me to whatever safe house you’re using, Bishop. Among the shit I need to bring everybody up to speed on, I spent the night with the Black fuckin’ Wreath. I’d bet my left nut they’re still tracking me. They damn sure can, and they’d be pretty stupid not to.”
“I see,” she said, turning back to him with her eyebrows raised. “Well… Thank you for the warning, but we must go where we are going regardless. That is where Khadizroth awaits us. After that, however, I’m confident he can erase any trace the warlocks can lay upon you, and my own roots in this city are shallow. We can move to a new, safer location easily enough.”
He just nodded. Sounded like good sense.
“I’m proud of you, Mr. Shook,” she said quietly.
He opened his eyes. “Excuse me?”
“I know nothing except what I cannot help but sense,” Snowe said, again giving him that Izarite smile. “But it is…familiar to me. You are a man struggling with inner demons, and slowly but surely, rising above them. Forgive my presumption; I just wanted you to know that I honor the effort.”
Shook stared at her for a moment. It seemed that this was the sort of thing that usually made him angry. Right at that moment, though, he just didn’t have the energy.
He leaned his head against the window and let his eyes drift shut again.
34 thoughts on “15 – 38”
Nice work, Jerry!
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This was an excellent chapter. Thumper and Bacchus both got some very Well done character development and I look forward to seeing whether they can become decent, functioning members of society. Honestly, I’m curious to whether or not Shook is capable of not being an ass.
Also, I just had a really bad evening and reassignment chapter helped a lot, so thank you.
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Sorry meant Natchua. I always forget to check for auto correct
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Can’t believe I’m saying this, but… good for Shook! As much as I hate the moronic nature of his misogyny, he’s at least working on fixing his shit.
On another note, seriously, Hesthri? I was fine when I thought Jonathan was in on your plans, but failing to run them by him is not only relationally iffy, but just generally moronic when you know there are succubi about waiting for an emotion to pounce on. Natchua’s plans are too important and dangerous to endanger by giving anyone a reason to lose their temper, justified or not.
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Yeah its a big mess up in a situation where non can be afforded. While impulsive actions can be somewhat understood accounting where she has grown up it doesn’t make it ok at all….
Eh, I’m actually with Hesthri on this one. Take a decisive action because it needs to be done, work with the people affected, make sure they know that the goal is important and better for everyone.
Like she said, this wasn’t the way she wanted things to come to light, but the overall plan makes sense. She knows Jonathan well enough that I’d believe she could anticipate his reaction here.
Natchua doesn’t just need to get laid, she needs love and affection. Jonathan is the best source for that, but even without being upset by Natchua using him what are the chances he does anything with her when it could hurt Hesthri? The man is in a very awkward position of loving two women and bit wanting to hurt either, while also being reasonably mad at one of them.
Now he is reasonably mad at both of them, but long term this remixes the blocker of not wanting to hurt either one. If Hes and Natch are hooking up with each other than they pretty clearly wouldn’t mind Jonathan doing the same.
So as long as Jonathan can get over the emotional side of things there is no longer the practical issue of choosing one over the other to be concerned about. It might come off as a strange but if reasoning to Jonathan, and even to the readers, but I can see how it makes sense from a demonic point of view.
He’s better…but he’s still pretty bad. Remember how he acted with Jonathan, starting a fight over nothing, and threatening the teashop lady. That was only..what..yesterday morning? But Keshiri leaving has been a long overdue wakeup call to him.
Ugh, is Shook really getting a redemption arc?
Let’s not forget that he was a vile piece of shit who threatened to do unspeakable things to Prin before Kheshiri was even in the picture.
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People struggle with, and overcome, worse issues and impulses than he has suffered from within the story. An awful lot of what he suffers from can be fairly characterized as inadequate maturity too. Frankly, if you can’t imagine redemption and rehabilitation for (for instance) a forty year old neonazi, knuckle-dragging nitwit, then just give up on civilization because it’s already done.
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I like a good Shakespearan redemption arc. He fixes himself just enough to realize, as his crunchy, squishy, painful death occurs, that its all his fault, and that he deserves it.
Ain’t no tragedy quite like a Shakespearean tragedy (sorry, Kitt — your redemption-and-death arcs never quit managed to include quite so much “fine, yeah, sure; earned this laser-guided truck of fate about to hit me” with optional “bring it on”).
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It’s a really complicated feeling watching Shook ‘rise above’ his baser instincts, knowing simultaneously that it will make him a better person who does less harm to other *and* knowing that improvement along this path will plateau at a point that leaves him a sexist, vindictive, cruel abuser. After all, he had been above these baser instincts when we were introduced to him and he was still a monstrous person back then too.
Like … *he* is improving, personally, in ways which happen to bring his behavior more in line with the respect and self-control we expect from decent human beings. That’s good. But none of this represents nor will lead to any change in his values, which are still fundamentally abhorrent and dictate his bottom line. So even as I approve of the general process of improving oneself and am happy to see a sexist man being less so … there’s no actual satisfaction to be found in it. It’s a weird complicated feeling experience.
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We can always hope he comes to understand a bit more about how acting on his distrust and low expectations tends to make his view of humanity seem true, as others react to his words and actions motivated by these beliefs. It’s not like the idea of needing to extend some trust and respect to get any is an especially complicated lesson, and spending time with Izarites may be the thing that pushes him to grasp it.
I disagree with that. Remember, even before Kheshiri he was not at his best because he wasn’t listening to Sweet and, to a lesser extent, Webs. Now he’s had a wake up call, and I think it’s possible that he’ll not only get back to his old level of self control, but surpass it. Honestly, that isn’t a very high bar. Even that probably won’t lead him to becoming a feminist, but he might be tolerable.
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I’d like to agree with you here, but to quote one of the researchers responsible for our current understanding of abuse “abuse is a problem of values, not of psychology” -Lundy Bancroft.
An unstable person with anger problems who holds misogynistic entitlements is dangerous in a very visceral, immediate way. And we should all want to see such a person become less dangerous by gaining control over their anger. But, as it turns out, anger management therapy / practice doesn’t actually stop abusive behavior from such people. At all. (Literally ever, and that’s not an exaggeration). Because the problem isn’t that the abuser can’t control their anger, it’s *that they get angry* because of their misogynistic entitlements not being managed for them.
With a decent person with anger problems, the issue is everyday frustrations not having brakes. Install brakes, and the person returns to a normal level of frustration. With an abuser though, the problem they have isn’t anger management (or isn’t just that, in Shook’s case). The problem they have is that normal things make them angry. Basic cooperative decency, women interacting as equals, rejection of advances, disdain for misogynistic statements, these things will still piss Shook off. He will always be pissed off and that will dictate his bottom line.
Shook’s not on a path to become tolerable at this point. He’s on a path to become less volatile. He’s not gonna blow up at the Avenist soldier who can arrest him. But with vulnerable women whom harming won’t have consequences for Shook? Oh yeah he’ll hurt them. And if an Avenist soldier pisses him off, that rage won’t just go away, because it’s not minor frustration run away into rate, it’s real genuine rage. He’ll probably specifically look for someone vulnerable to take it out on. That’s not going to change.
(At least not without a different kind of growth we’ve yet to see in Shook).
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Like already mentioned, Shook becomming “better”, is in a way making him worse.
It is a mark of good writing when you are sort of rooting for a character that is a disgusting example of a human being.
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With Shook, all i am rooting for is him having a gruesome death.
Unfortunately, i may end up disappointed in this.
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Started wondering do we know what killed Laressa the pacafist hand of Avei?
I’d be fascinated to see if you can make me stop despising Shook. It rather seems from recent chapters like that’s what’s going to be attempted. But Shook becoming more competent at restraining his temper and otherwise acting more politely means zip if we can plainly see from his internal monologue that he’s an unapologetically misogynistic asshole… It actually makes it worse, that he’s becoming more effective at being awful. You don’t want people who suck to succeed. I can’t imagine a world where I root for Shook even the tiniest bit without seeing some proper REMORSE on his part first, and I feel like it would take a couple million pages to get his character to that point organically… But the Natchua storyline continues to intrigue, even though I still can’t stop thinking of nachos every time I see her name 😀
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holy shit i found her! I was smart enough to NOT tailgate the good professor.
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Dust to Dust, the first-ever The Gods Are Bastards fanfic, is now complete. You can read it here: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/11837734/1/Dust-to-Dust
slinks back into shadows
Hey, I found someone re-uploading your work on this website under a different title “Evil is Rising” without crediting you.
Hm. Thank you for catching that. I guess now I’ll find out how to deal with such incidents.
Theres a process on the site – content is collected from the Internet or posted by users. If your copyright is damaged, send an email to email@example.com and we will delete it immediately
@light novel translations . https://www.WuXiaLeague.com
I’d planned on a Friday chapter to continue working down the backlog, but at present that looks likely to be delayed if not canceled. I’m having a little trouble sorting out the events I need for the next chapter, but more disconcertingly, I appear to have a case of carpal tunnel. Skipping one update isn’t going to make much difference with that, but I’m deliberately laying off keyboard work for a bit and trying to both rest my wrist and be conscious of holding it in the right position. Unfortunately I don’t own a wrist brace and am not immediately aware of how to get one, but I’ll look into that.
In the US you can get a decent wrist brace at a CVS which is just a basic pharmacy, better than nothing, https://www.cvs.com/shop/futuro-adjustable-reversible-splint-wrist-brace-prodid-1660051
Seconding the brace idea. I have tendonitis in my right hand, which shows up when handwriting, not typing. My recommendation is to try it on in the store (just open up the box and try it on, put it back nicely if it doesn’t work) and get one with a piece of metal running underneath your arm and bending up to support the palm. Also, don’t be afraid to return it if it turns out it doesn’t work.
Sorry to hear that. Maybe consider using voice dictation? It’s not terrible these days.
…I’ve run out of story? Huh. I’ve been straight up binging this and I’m very happy about it. I also got both my boyfriends hooked on it, since we’re polyamorous nerds who like sharing new shinies. Given that background, I’m super happy with the Johnathan/Hesthri/Natchua triad, for all it isn’t starting off as good polyamory. To be fair to them, there’s only so much you can do when only one of three was planning on a relationship at all, you’re all on a doomed quest, two of you have a son slightly younger than the third, and someone like Kheshiri is poking at you. Hopefully they can communicate and build up some basic understandings of what each of them wants/needs, and work together to build something that works.
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Natchua doesn’t do anything the right way 😉
Welcome aboard, now you have to wait and speculate along with the rest of us 🙂
True. I think they’re doing splendidly, considering. At least all three have adult moments when it comes to approaching each other. Even flipping Natchua (although she’s still got a hell of a lot of hard graft to do, and generally needs push-starting).
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