Lorrin
Walking away from the human … I should name it. Indeed. Though I can’t get over his reaction to seeing me. Fear, shock, disgust. Seeing those emotions run through his eyes, even across his face, hurt. I don’t understand why. That other human looking creature, though he didn’t smell like a human, gave me a good excuse to leave.
But then … he does need a name. Hmm … the word weak in my native language is ladarii. Yes, that’s what I’ll call him. Ladarii. Right, where was I? Yes, then Ladarii came over to confront me and ask me to be his friend?! Couldn’t he see the hurt in my eyes? Could he see that his reaction to my face had offended me?
Sighing, I pick up a dish and inspect it as I think. What else would I have expected from a human? Even if they’re not Rakshan, they still look at me like I’m a freak. Maybe I am. Snake-Children should just stick together. Over the thousands of years since Narianess the Great, the first Rakshan to traverse the whole planet and introduce everyone, opening up the Trade Route, and changing civilisation permanently, humans have still regarded the other races with contempt and disgust.
The dish I’m holding isn’t poisoned, though I know there is an element in it that might be deadly to another creature. As I eat, sitting in the corner, I watch the creatures. The humans are swarming a large cooked bird. I think the word ‘turkey’ was yelled out. I can’t be too sure with these humans.
Once again, Ladarii walks over to me. There’s something about him that clashes with my personality. Maybe it’s the lack of fear, and the way we both stand tall, even when someone is talking down to us, no matter the situation. There are many qualities about Ladarii I like, for example the no fear thing. But he’s a human. How can I be friends with a human?
“Back for round three?” I hiss.
He shakes his head in wonder and sits down beside me. His eyes are a little red and misty as though he’d been crying. I give him a curious look before picking at my dish. It’s a small platter of seafood. Some of the dead things on my plate aren’t Rakshan, but they taste divine.
“What are you eating?” He asks.
“Seafood,” I study something that tastes like squid, though I’d say it’s been marinated in something. “Try some.” I hold the half eaten ring out to Ladarii to try.
He looks at me like I’m crazy. “Um … you just bit that,” he says, regarding the food with a cold gaze.
I roll my eyes. “Want to be my friend? You have to trust me,” I say. He looks about ready to say something, so I start talking again. “I know that’s difficult to do … and yes, asking you to trust me is a big feat. But … I’ll tell you something about myself. Where I’m from, humans hate my kind. I’m used to being scorned at, racist comments hurtled my way. I’m used to looks of fear, disgust and contempt plain on the humans that walk passed me. That’s why I wear the hood all the time. So you can see why I don’t trust you. I know in saying it’s because you’re a human is racist, but Ladarii, to get my trust, you need to trust me.”
He stares at me for a long time before taking the food from my hand and eating it, a very sceptical expression on his face. But as he eats, I can see he enjoys the taste of the seafood. I continue to eat, watching him out of the corner of my eye. It must be my fangs. Snake fangs are … well sometimes they’re larger than normal. And unlucky me, I was born with large fangs. I do love my fangs, though, and it makes me happier to know that they’re bigger than my brother’s. Who is five years my senior mind you.
“You called me La … um … what did you call me before?” Ladarii tilts his head to the side.
I find myself slightly ashamed for the name now. “Ladarii. It’s a word in my native tongue,” I explain. “I didn’t know your name. What is it, by the way?”
“Gunnar,” he holds out his hand to me, like that other man had done. A curious thing, these humans do.
I stare at his hand, not sure what to do with it. “I’m Lorrin. Um … may I ask a question, Gunnar?” I look at him and smile.
He nods, retracting his hand. “Go for it,” he says.
“Why do you humans hold your hands out like that when introducing yourself?” I can’t help the amused smile that spreads across my face as he stares at me in shock.
“You don’t know? Aliens are so weird,” he shakes his head. “You’re supposed to shake it.”
“I’m not an alien!” I bite out. “I’m a …” I swallow, unaccustomed to the level of hurt the word caused. “So you shake the hand?” I say instead of continuing what I was going to say.
He nods, holding it out to me. I grab it and he shakes my hand up and down. He has warm hands, the skin rough and callused. My guess is that he knows a full day of hard work. In fact, a lifetime of hard work. I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s a skilled fighter. He stares down at my hand and smiles.
“What?” I ask.
“I had a feeling you were a good fighter,” he says with amusement.
I smirk. “I’d demonstrate my skill with my scimitars, but I don’t want to scare the other humans,” he chuckles with me. “Now, would you like to help me find the way out …” I feel like saying “friend” but that’d be offensive to him. The way he said the word before made it clear to me. “Gunnar?”
He nods. “Finish your food first. You need to keep up your strength,” he indicates the dish still half eaten in my lap.
“What are you, my mother?” I growl, and he laughs. I find myself chuckling. “Eh, I can last a while on a half-full stomach. Living on the streets does that.”
We share a knowing smile and stand up. “Where to look first?” Gunnar asks.
“The most unexpected place of all! The roof!” I exclaim.
Gunnar shakes his head. “Fine, the roof it is,” he mutters.
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