Dragons, Dystopians, and Denial

Elias let out a quick "ha!" laugh, and then lifted the bowl up to his lips, drinking the rest of the soupy broth and letting it warm his insides. He let out a satisfied sigh, setting the empty bowl on his lap and then relaxed, leaning back on the tree.

"Okay, tell me the funniest thing that ever happened to you," he said. "No broken fingernails can distract me."

Jerica smiled at him but suddenly felt tense. Funny things didn't really happen to her. She was usually either training -- which wasn't fun -- or getting yelled at -- which was even less fun -- or with Rek or Akeno. And that was either chatting or sex, which was fun, but not funny.

And then, she remembered the funniest thing she'd ever done.

"Heh, so." She smirked wickedly. "Levin and Biryn are quite possibly the most self-centered and least patient men in the entire universe."

And it usually ended badly for her.

"And there was this time when I was like, I don't know, maybe ten years old? Something like that. And we were having a meal and Levin was in a bad mood, and once of the serving boys accidentally dropped some food in his lap, so Levin ordered the guards to chop the boy's hand off for punishment."

She finished off her food and set the bowl next to her, pulling her legs up to her chest.

"Which is of course ridiculous, so I argued with him about it. The boy was no older than I was at the time. So I pointed out that he was just a kid. And then Biryn went 'You're a kid too and somehow you manage to resist dumping food in people's' laps."

She wrapped her arms around her legs, still so pleased with herself even this many years after the fact.

"So I went 'OOPS' and flipped one of the bowls across the table, and 'OOPS!' and flipped my plate into Biryn's lap." She laughed a bit as she remembered how pissed he had been. "I got in so much trouble, but it was worth it to see the luck on his face... and because they got so mad at me they forgot about the serving boy."

Elias listened patiently, his smile growing wider and wider with each passing sentence, until finally, he was grinning.

"That's hilarious," he reaffirmed with a hearty laugh. "I bet the serving boy sneaked away and was glad you did that." He paused in thought. "Wait, didn't you mention this to me before? This seems familiar."

"I dunno." Jerica stretched out, laying back on the ground to stare up at the stars. "But rum makes me not know a lotta things. So it's possible."

Elias nodded, deciding to drop it. He wasn't really positive that happened, anyways. His memory was always fuzzy at best.

"Is that why you drink?" he asked. "To forget?"

"Try to," she agreed sleepily, closing her eyes. "At least dull the memories a bit. I have to drink a lot to actually forget anything. But at least when my head is humming like this I can't quite remember what they looked like."

Elias hummed this over, realizing too late that his usual filter was slipping. Jerica lived a traumatic life, and he wondered if there was something big that she hadn't told him yet. He'd like to make sure he'd remember that, if she wanted to share.

"What do you try the forget the most?" he asked.

"The physician," she whispered, pulling her arms tight around her abdomen. She didn't give nearly as good of hugs as Elias did. Her mind's eye flicked back to that scene before she could shake it away. "I swear to the gods, I never meant to hurt him."

Suddenly the mood shifted, and all traces of smiles and grins were lost. Elias solemnly leaned his head back against the tree, one leg extended and one leg bent with his elbow propped on top. He gazed up at the sky, getting lost in the stars.

"You were eight years old," he said softly.

“What kind of monster murders someone when they’re only eight?” Jerica’s chest was tight, voice barely so soft she wasn’t sure he heard.

If they weren't talking about a heavy subject, Elias may not have heard Jerica. But he was doing his best to pay attention, and he tried to deeply empathize with her.

"The kind of monster that took control of your body," he said gently. "It wasn't your fault. You had no control."

"No one was in control of me." She wrapped her arms tighter around herself. "They weren't. I wasn't... and apparently, when I lose control, I murder people."

Elias sat up straighter and looked at Jerica, giving her his full attention. It happened when she lost control. He understood.

"It's not your fault," he said, trying to empathize even in a drunken state. "I know. It's still not your fault. You can't blame yourself for it."

“I was the one who did it, whether I like it or not.” She closed her eyes, wishing with everything within her that that wasn’t the case. But it was. And no amount of wishing would change that.

"You can't change the past. Just... learn from it," Elias responded quickly, although he wasn't sure if he was trying to convince her or himself. "I mean... it's terrible that happened. But is wasn't you. You know?"