Harriet + Rhys: Talking About Nothing

[suddenly_science]

Who: Harriet and Rhys
When: Friday
Where: Bastan
Before/After: After Lera gives Harriet some advice
Warnings: Teen crushes



Asking after the Ahura after the battles usually led one to Bastan's walls. The druids' defenses were still overgrowing the stone, and before they could rebuild, the plants had to go.

Mages and spellswords could burn away at the vines while berserkers and paladins could hack at them the old fashioned way. Used to the heights of the Undertow, Rhys scaled the walls to tear away what had taken root at the top. He yanked another plant out by the roots, one of many, when he heard someone cry out.

One of Pelusa's trees, mistaken for druid work, was now relentlessly pelting the offending spellsword with acorns. He was pushed to the edge, tipped, and fell. Rhys dove after him without a second thought.

One hand caught the spellsword's arm as both fell. The other reached for a vine, clawing at it, but unable to get hold. Rhys ripped his sword free and stabbed into the wall, cutting across vines and roots on the way down. The friction barely slowed them. He looked to the rapidly approaching ground and prepared plan C: hurricane fury, aimed down.

The air of the strike drove a hole into the ground and funneled back up out of it with enough pressure to work as a poor man's levitation. It didn't make a graceful drop, but it made a survivable one-- for a berserker. Rhys made sure his body hit the ground first, bounced once, and lost hold of the spellsword, tumbling in the opposite direction. Paladins were already swarming in, and Rhys let out a sigh of relief when he saw the spellsword conscious and unharmed.

He felt the warmth of a heal spell over him while the healer grabbed him to help him to his feet. There was some murmuring and chattering questioning if everyone was okay, and needing to stop until they had a plan for the tree, but only, "The Khshathra is here to see you," was one Rhys himself could act on.

Rhys looked over the healers for Nyx. He gave them a nod and pushed past to greet her with a half raise of his arm, expression cautious in case she had some kind of dire news.


Harriet was still not remotely used to the fact that the Ahura was a frigging superhero. She had seen his amazing feats through various screens, but never like this. Unmediated! In person! And rather terrifyingly out of the blue! She gaped as he and the spellsword plummeted toward certain (death? ohgod) only to be saved by the Ahura improvising a special technique to slow his descent. She didn't miss how he turned in the air to spare the spellsword the brunt of the impact, and the way he checked on his charge after the landing to see if his savioring had been successful.

Yeah, pretty much like he was Spiderman or something.

WAS THIS JUST A DAY IN THE LIFE OF RHYS ELENA!? WHAT THE FUCK!

She was pulled out of her daze as she realized she was being announced. Uh oh, that wasn't good. She reached out uselessly to try to stop it.

Oh my goodness you guys don't say THE KHSHATHRA IS HERE TO SEE YOU when the Khshathra is drunk, that makes it sound like super formal guild leader business. Which it most decidedly was not.

Okay though, she could do this. She felt bold and friendly and was probably reasonably in charge of her faculties enough to carry on a conversation. Probably.

She grinned too-widely and waved back at him.

"That was like a scene out of a movie!" she gushed.

Smooooooooth.

Any thought that Nyx could be here to report something alarming was promptly kicked aside. There was a half second's worth of being stunned by how cheerful she was, and a little stunned by how automatically he expected to be getting bad news.

It only lasted as long as it took for her words to catch up to him, and in particular, the tone she said it in. It really wasn't anything worth that. Rhys felt a dull heat in his cheeks, but was confident it wasn't anything more than a weak pinkness. He shook his head, one hand to the back of his neck and the other waving to brush the comment aside.

His phone-- right. He searched the pouches on his belt and unrolled it from its padding, hoping he hadn't landed directly on it in the fall. Luck had his phone's side again.

Did you need anything?


She leaned in, just a TAD bit unsteady on her feet, to inspect the screen.

"Nope, I am here to talk about inconsequential things!"

She sounded proud of herself. And determined. And... possibly like she'd been given some kind of Rhys-cheering mission by someone else, which she basically had.

Rhys smiled, but wryly. He couldn't guess which one of them might have tried to put Nyx up to this. Maybe it was her own idea. His low spirits were not the secret Rhys wanted them to be.

Inconsequential things, huh? He wasn't going to be able to say no to such forthright sincerity. Not that he had anything left to do for the moment, and there was still a dull sting across Rhys' back, not quite painful, but threatening to be if he pushed it.

Rhys motioned for Nyx to follow him, leading her back into the camp and away from the background noise of the walls. There were still no supplies at his tent that allowed him to remotely be a proper host. He wasn't about to insult her with an offer of war rations. But it was quieter, and there was a cot and some supply boxes to sit on. With a general motion, he tried to gesture she could have the run of the place, then undid the straps of his weapons to put them aside.


Harriet followed after him, walking the careful walk of one for whom things have become a little wobbly. When they reached his tent, she gratefully plonked herself on the nearest box. Were the boxes actually for sitting? Drunk Harriet didn't give a shit. They were now!

But now that they were settled, she had to actually come up with something to talk about. Come on, godbrain, this is what you're for! Literally ANYTHING AT ALL would fit the ridiculously broad criteria she had set, so she just had to pick something. Pick something! Or they'd stare at one another for all eternity.

She hummed to herself, looking around, looking down....

Shoes?

Shoes.

Okay whatever, GO.

"Isn't it kind of tragic how Zenderael has super awesome magic to fix almost every problem you can think of but everyone is walking around in uncomfortable shoes?"

Rhys used his foot to kick a supply box into place for him to sit on so they were across from one another. Already he wished he had something to lean on, but the canvas of the tent wouldn't hold. He leaned forward instead until Nyx spoke up.

Shoes.

He couldn't help grinning and crossed his leg so his ankle was resting over his knee. There were no shoes on his feet, just bandages in their place. After he typed on his phone, he flipped it around for Nyx to see.

Berserkers have a solution to your problem.

Maybe not the perfect solution.


Harriet made a face that showed what she thought of his foot wraps.

"That is so not a solution. Don't you step on all the rocks? And sticks? And every sharp thing everyone ever dropped."

Harriet could barely make it to the end of her driveway to get the mail in socks. Living your life shoeless was just unthinkable.

He thought that might be the reaction, so his smile didn't wane as he set his foot back to the floor. Rhys shrugged in response and nodded.

But better balance and grip.
And it's easier to feel the vibrations of a moving opponent.

The disadvantages were probably greatly offset by the natural benefits that came with being a berserker.


"But rocks Spinel!" She heaved a great sigh, hanging her head exaggeratedly. How long had Spinel been subjecting himself to unpleasant underfoot objects 24/7 for a slight hypothetical battle advantage? She thought (probably unreasonably, since this was a berserker cultural norm) that she was beginning to see the side of Spinel that had worried Ashtaroth.

Well. You know, this, and the using himself as a human shield to protect that spellsword when they fell off the wall earlier.

Cool, yes. But also... dangerous. Was heroism sustainable in real life?

"Do shoes really keep you from balancing as well as you do without them?"

Rhys wasn't unaware of some of his reputation. In just being the Ahura he was assumed to lust for battle and to make mundane sacrifices for combat advantages. Even friends who had known him in Fall City now assumed violence was to be his primary method of communication.

So he did, just a little, tease and play within that idea.

He smiled again, but more softly.

Marginally. The truth is I ruined what I came in.
The Undertow didn't have anything else.
I got used to it.


"Do you need me to make you supershoes?" she asked, half-kidding. "I can add it to my queue."

She held up a finger. "Your friend Ashtaroth told me to look after you, so if that means shoe-ing you..." she frowned. "You know, I don't think I was supposed to repeat that."


Rhys brought his hand over his mouth, trying to hide a smile. Ashtaroth. Was that who put Nyx up to this? He would never have guessed they knew each other.

Your secret is safe with me.
But I can manage shoelessly.
Are they really that bad?

He glanced to her feet, curious. The few times he wanted to look less like a berserker he had worn them, uncomfortable, but blamed it on his new habits.


Harriet looked down with him, to the black shoes showing from beneath the hem of her robes. They were some of the least visually impressive shoes ever, lacking a heel or any stylistic features, but they were comfy.

"They're French," she said. "I tried proper Saftan shoes but after a few days I wanted to saw my feet off. Back when I spent most of my time at a school desk I could manage a four-inch heel, though."

Old Harriet had found triumph in odd places.

At least that meant a solution existed for discomfort without having to rely on the invention of alchemist supershoes.

Rhys glanced over his own essentially leather outfit with fur trim and bare arms. A lot of who they were had to change. He barely remembered it now, or even thought of it, but Nyx hadn't arrived so long ago.

He looked more concerned now, expression barely a frown. Have you been adjusting okay?

Rhys almost added aside from the war, but realized there was no possible aside. She landed right in it.


Harriet's brows knitted, as she realized she'd referred to the past semester of school as 'back when,' despite the fact that she hadn't even missed a day of the new semester, yet. She'd scarcely begun to act as Khshathra, but coping with it meant committing herself to it, which meant accepting her new lifestyle as a permanent change that would go on and on for decades.

"It's like camp," she answered. "You cram a shit ton of stuff into each day and you're far away from home and trying to learn new skills. Except you can never go back to your old life again, so I guess in that sense it's more like college. But I've never been to college so it's like camp."

She smiled uneasily, trying to think of how to wrap that up in a prettier package.

"I live in a palace," she reminded him, gravely, leaning Spinelwards like she was imparting a secret.

Instinctively, Rhys leaned in a little like there would be some dark secret, then half-smiled at its reveal.

But how does it compare to a tree? He was half-joking, but wasn't sure he could imagine being comfortable in a royal palace. Unless it was a tree palace. But the closest Rhys had gotten to any of the other guild territories was the paladin HQ, and that hadn't come with passage to Omid's throne room.

Don't be afraid to ask for help, he added, a few spaces below. It was overwhelming for all of them, but Rhys had been lucky, in a sense. As much to learn, but less to leave behind.


"I'll probably take you up on that sooner than you think," Harriet said. She was almost embarrassed by the notion that Spinel could think she wouldn't ask for help if she needed it. Godbrain or not, Harriet was a person who looked after herself. For an incapable, useless Harriet, that made her a drain on others, because she went after what she needed and didn't repay anyone who helped her get it. But with the capacity to invent and help, things might be different. Maybe she could look out for everyone, herself included.

YEAHHH.

That thought was way more exciting than it should have been, thanks to the inebriation.

But just as suddenly, SHAME AND MISERY. Rhys's tree! His treee!

"We need to fix the Undertow so I can see your tree," she said. "All the formulas have been crap, so far. I don't know what that spell is made of!"

He was glad to hear her say it. There was a time Nyx mentioned keeping quiet because she thought Rhys was busy. He was, but he never wanted to be so busy he couldn't help the other guild leaders. Or his friends. There might be times it would have to come to that. There already had been. But he would keep fighting against the notion.

That was getting ahead. With the Undertow, Rhys was the one who needed help, and difficult as it would be to ask his friends to deal with his mistakes, he was beginning to realize he would have to ask his enemies.

Rhys smiled weakly regardless. Let it not be said he didn't try.

Thanks for trying.
I know it can't be easy.

To emphasize it, he signed thank you with one hand while showing her the phone message with the other.


Harriet nodded. "We'll get it figured out soon,"

The positive moment was interrupted by her face screwing up.

"Fuck," she announced. "We started talking about important stuff."

She wracked her brain.

"What do you think of snails?"

Rhys smiled sheepishly that time. It was difficult for any discussion not to drift back to something important. There was only so much that could really be ignored before--

Nyx what. Her question was sudden and random enough to catch Rhys off guard as he blinked back at her for a few beats.

What kind of question was that? Well. An inconsequential one...

Rhys reddened a little as he used his thumb to text out his response. They're cute.

She asked.


She peered at his message, then nodded her satisfaction with the answer. There had been only one correct reply to the question and it was Spinel's good fortune that he had found it.

"I THINK SO TOO," she replied with intensity. "The goopiest bugs are underappreciated. Snails, slugs, possibly worms. Their unthreatening but uncompromising weirdness gives them charm. And it's not like they can sting you."

And their wiggly faces. He put his fingers up under his mouth and wiggled them in a mimicry of snail tentacles when she looked up from the message.

Rhys let out half a silent laugh and stayed red, but smiled genuinely. Subject change critical hit! It was difficult to think of being the Ahura alongside of finding gastropods adorable, and Nyx's own enthusiasm swept away any lingering thoughts of the Undertow. Rhys couldn't disagree with her. He was still faintly smiling when he made his next message.

Too many people dismiss them as gross. I don't get it.

A favorite of yours?


"Yes, although I like exoskeletons too. Scorpions, spiders, and their ilk are awesome so long as they aren't actually anywhere near me, Khshathrabot excepted. They are badasses, like the rock stars of the insect world."

Now it was her turn to redden WHY DID SHE SAY ROCK STARS.

"Centipedes too! All the little legs. Excellently creepy."

Luckily for Harriet, Rhys was past the point of caring half as much about any rock star implications as he used to. It slipped right by him without notice.

He was a little surprised Nyx had such strong feelings about the creepy crawly world, if from a healthy distance. Rhys had been in enough arguments about not crushing spiders so he could let them safely back outside to feel like it was a minority opinion. He grinned a little the more she went on about them.

Until they coil around their eggs.
Then they're too cute to be creepy.


"I didn't know about the coiling," she said. "That's very good to know."

She didn't know what she could possibly do with that information but there was probably some way to use it for science. Somehow.

She considered, a moment.

"Ladybugs. Overhyped?"


He wondered how much of her constructs resembled or would resemble bugs. It wasn't a bad motif. Not at all.

Rhys considered it a moment himself before shaking his head and putting his follow up explanation on his phone.

Only because they're easy to identify.
They're compact beetles.

He paused, and gave a few line breaks to help express the pause.

But I still prefer hercules beetles.


"Beetles have never captured my imagination, but I am willing to hear you out," Harriet said.

Rhys was aghast! It was a purposely exaggeration on his part, complete with gaping and a flinch back, but the smile at the end of it made it clear it was more in jest than true offense.

They have horns!

As if that was all there was to it. Rhys left the message there as a buffer while seriously-not-so-seriously considering his task at representing beetle-kind. Scarabs! Hadn't she seen them? Rhys was at a terrible disadvantage. He could not adequately describe the awesome way their hidden wings unfolded from their armored bodies as he gestured it out.

Only gestures, then, if he had to chose one. Rhys held out his fist and pointed to it. It was now a beetle. His other hand sat flat on top as the beetle's armor, then his 'beetle' got up on its fingers legs and crawled across his thigh. Dramatically-- or, well, not-- Rhys split the fingers of his hand on top and the beetle took to imagination flight as his fingers fluttered.

It was quite possibly not the most impressive demonstration.


This hand-beetle Spinel was doing was suddenly the most amazing and hilarious thing in the history of the universe. She watched with rapt attention until he got to the fluttering, which her mind decided was the punchline, and she hooted with laughter at him.

Oh, not mean laughter, Spinel. Promise.

No, Nyx! Laughter was the opposite of awe for beetles! Rhys tried to keep it together, watching her with his hands still in the air. The absurdity of it combined with Nyx's laughter made him crack. He tried to resist a smile, but one hand fell helplessly to his leg and the other tried-- and failed-- to cover his reddening face as he laughed into it.

He gestured at her, vague and incomprehensible, in some attempt to explain himself or protest. He didn't even know himself, giving up just as quickly to lean back on his legs and laugh again.


"Okay, okay," Harriet said, when she caught her breath. "Beetles can be cool."

Because clearly, it was important. (But inconsequential!)

Rhys gave an all too heavy exaggerated sigh, ruined again by smiling. He was unconvinced that she was convinced, but it would have to be enough that she was willing to relent for him.

At least it wasn't grasshoppers.

And the flailing that would have inevitably been involved to mime its jumps.


"I'm glad we had this talk," Harriet told him. "It's good to know where a person stands on bugs."

She tapped her fingers on one knee, thoughtful. "Maybe we ought to gather the other guild leaders' perspectives on this."

A pause.

"I mean, the ones who wouldn't think we were crazy."

Rhys was glad too. If Nyx had come-- or been sent-- as a distraction, it was one that was working well.

He grinned at the suggestion.

So the Mazda and the Asha.
The Spenta already knows I'm crazy.

He looked at his phone, then back to Nyx, suddenly sobered, and gave another addition.

I never know which names to use.


"Mine are a mixed bag," Harriet said. "Lera is Lera, Gabe is Gabe, you're Spinel, and the Spenta is the Spenta." She counted them off with her fingers while she listed them.

"I feel like it would be weird switching to the Spenta's real name without permission and I'm not 100% sure we're on awesome terms just yet since I accidentally hit him with my car a little bit one time. Maybe after the eye we'll be cool."

Have a moment of being stared at, Nyx. He shakes his head and smiles. It sounds like water under the bridge. Ezra seems all right, at least?

I write in titles, but think in real names. Except yours. You're Nyx.
The Spenta likes some professionalism, I think.

Rhys understood the sentiment, but he knew most of the guild leaders on a personal level except for Lera, and she was free with her name and identity. Still, there sometimes wasn't much 'Rhys' left compared to the Ahura. He wondered how often Ezra felt the same.

Inconsequential things, he reminded himself.


"Comes of being internet friends," Harriet said. Heimdall had gradually become Duncan, but she didn't know if Spinel could become Rhys. Rhys was a ROCK STAR after all. He was sort of kind of a different person from the one she knew. Maybe the Ahura wasn't exactly Spinel either? It was hard getting a read off of someone through the internet. Like looking at a three-dimensional shape in two-dimensional space! In the real world, there were new... sides to discover.

Polygon Spinel was a mystery....

"We are three-dimensional Spinel and Nyx now," she told him, forgetting to fill him in on the context.

And so he was left without that not making much sense. Rhys was paused, forced to try and think that one over. He concluded she meant seeing each other in real, three-dimension space instead of usernames on a screen. (Close, but not quite the same depth of the sentiment.)

He nodded in agreement, smiling.

I'm glad we got to meet.
Sorry about the circumstances.


Harriet froze, reddening.

SPINEL DON'T USE ANIME LINES.

WHILE SMILING SOFTLY.

"Yes! Uhhhh. Uh."

She bolted up from her seat, whirling unintentionally, and reclaiming her balance with her hands up by her shoulders and her elbows out crooked. She looked down at herself, trying to decide how to explain what had just transpired.

"I have to go I think but we should talk more later and resolve the beetle issue conclusively, very important."

Wait what did he do? Rhys stared back at Nyx's hurried reaction blankly, wondering where his mistake was, or if there had been one. He double checked his phone message to make sure autocorrect hadn't turned his words into anything bizarre or potentially offensive.

Rhys ran his fingers through the hair on the back of his neck, still confused, but gave a stunned half-wave in farewell.


Harriet waved back meekly and called upon her inner assassin (she didn't have an inner assassin) to melt her into the shadows as she half-scurried, half-lurched out of sight.

A FINE MOMENT FOR THE KHSHATHRA INDEED.