Yeah. Our city - their city, we're just the dirt under their nails. Piltover. City of Progress. The topside is exactly what it sounds like, clean, fresh air, scientists with their heads up their asses.
I'm from the undercity. Fissure folk, with barely any clean water and people who can't make ends meet. Home sweet home.
[ i forgot she was holding a poro in this thread so she'll let it go for now, though it doesn't go far it just flops out at her feet and starts snoring. ]
[ yeah, that feels familiar. like walking through the back alleys of grand trad - yet, the best meals he ever had, the best time he's ever had has been spent in the dingy hushed honeybee. it's frustrating to hear that kind of social stratification occurs everywhere, if not surprising. ]
Sounds like an awful 'city of progress', if the progress' on the backs of the people who live there.
[ the undercity really is like if you took sunshade row and put it underground. like if you took the paripus problem, and put it out of sight. ]
That's always how it is. It's how it's always been - I grew up knowing that I was less than any of them. [ she says, with a touch of fury to her voice. she shoves her hands in her jacket pocket, glancing away. ]
... You're a noble, right? You'd be a topsider.
[ like just... in social standing? that's where he'd be. but she doesn't say this like she thinks he's the enemy, she says it in the sort of way where - she'd want to trust he'd try to fix things. hesitantly. like she's been burned before. ]
[ yeah. man - hearing that grinds his gears but he can't say it's surprising, either. prejudice and despair are the norm, but it burns strohl now as much as it always has, if not more now that he's spending his time traveling with will. ]
My parents always taught me that nobility is not about having status or being better. It's about the fact that if you've been granted some sort of privilege by society, you ought to use it to help people. Not just your friends, or your cronies, or your sycophants - people, your people. It is a responsibility.
[ he's made a similar point before, reiterated now. nobility is a sacred duty. noblesse oblige. ]
I don't stand for a society like what your topsiders do. Euchronia's no different - I watched a man use his last words to scorn Will, say he couldn't bear to be saved by an elda. It's ridiculous. [ he's getting a little heated again, as usual - the awful soldier as much as the paripus in the mines, miserable, used as bait. it makes his stomach churn. ] But, we're going to make it different.
[ she watches him for a moment, and she feels it - she knows that anger, too. she's felt that anger since she was a little girl, and it's cooped up, now, it's curled in her chest like a heavy little ball. but. ]
You know, you say that, and I believe you, a little.
[ dangerous. that's dangerous, because she's been burned before. recently. so, so recently, right before she got here. we're doing this to make things better. join up with me, and you'll see. vi rolls her shoulders. ]
I knew someone who thought the same as you. She rejected the desk job her mother got her to be out on the streets, hands on. But she lost it. Whatever good she thought she was going to do went out the window and into the gutter when her mother got caught in the crossfire.
If the gunk under your shoes, the lowest of the scum, the people you're trying to save, killed your captain? Would you still believe in what you were trying to do?
I've never considered anyone the gunk under my shoes.
[ never once. but, he knows what she's saying, and he gives its due weight.
in the future, he'll face the horrors of horrors - he'll face will transformed into a monster, and he'll face it with fear and regret it for the rest of his life. in the split second, strohl will return to himself, but that split second of doubt will rattle him - though not enough to send him crashing down. for now, though, he considers what could happen, if someone gutted will in the middle of the street.
there's a long, thoughtful silence. and eventually, slowly, strohl says: ]
I wouldn't stop believing in it. I'd be furious - course I'd be furious. Beyond it. I'm sure I'd lose my temper - I'm not going to pretend that I'd handle it with only kindness and grace in the very moment, no matter how much I'd like to.
But...the actions of one person don't determine the behaviour of many. Good or bad. If I were to blame a whole group of people for one action, I'd be no better than any of the bastards I've met on our way. That was their choice to make, their consequence to face, not the people's.
If someone killed Will, it'd be mine and the others duty to carry things on the way he'd want it to be. It's what we've done since we started for the Prince, anyhow.
it's a little hard for her to believe, but it isn't fair for her to pick at it. she's not even interested in doing that. vi's no saint. if she was in that situation, there's no way she'd handle it well, and - well, honestly? she'd probably do exactly the same as strohl, and that's why it's a good answer. because it's human, because it's sticking to a principle that you believe in, even when you know your emotions would get in the way.
so vi sucks in a deep breath, and reaches over for him, ruffling his hair, and then pulling him in. she bonks her forehead against his, resting that hand against the back of his head. ]
Keep that.
[ all of that. everything you just said. ]
Hold onto that, even if it kills you. It's important.
oh. he's about to reach up and swat at the hands ruffling at his hair, but the sudden gesture stops him, hands hovering sort of comically in midair at first, cheeks turning a little pink. it takes a second for him to get his bearings, but after that initial beat, he reaches up and sets a hand against the back of her shoulderblades, steadying.
... ]
I will. [ that much he knows. muttered: ] It probably will kill me. Can't think of a better way to die, though.
[ DON'T JOKE ABOUT THIS!!!! (only it's so not a joke but he survives the weekend unlike someone so you know). ]
Thanks, Vi. [ said a little softer, a little more seriously. the promise he made surges deep like a pilot light. ] ...Sorry, that someone wavered on you.
she stays there for a bit. for all the tough guy persona that she puts up, for as rough and rude as she can be, she is touchstarved in the worst way. it's nice, to have someone return the favor. to not feel like she's going to get stabbed in the back by just existing. when he jokes, she snorts, and finally lets go of him, easing back with a sort of tired look on her face. ]
There's plenty of better ways. [ to die, she means, making a face at him. but... as for the rest, she shoves her hands back into her pockets. ]
Sure. Knew her about as long as I've known you, so don't go changing on me.
[ it's been a little longer, maybe, but the sentiment is there. she bonds quick. ]
[ there are not plenty of better ways dying nobly is the only way to go? that is his life goal baby because that's really healthy
anyway. the tired look doesn't go unnoticed, and neither does the face - he snorts a little and jostles his shoulder into hers before she gets too far, with a little weight behind it. for the sassy face. ]
Not planning on it. Same goes for you, though - I've a feeling that won't be an issue. [ he's got a good sense for people. always has. ] Long as you quit calling me a goat.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
Yeah. Our city - their city, we're just the dirt under their nails. Piltover. City of Progress. The topside is exactly what it sounds like, clean, fresh air, scientists with their heads up their asses.
I'm from the undercity. Fissure folk, with barely any clean water and people who can't make ends meet. Home sweet home.
[ i forgot she was holding a poro in this thread so she'll let it go for now, though it doesn't go far it just flops out at her feet and starts snoring. ]
no subject
Sounds like an awful 'city of progress', if the progress' on the backs of the people who live there.
[ derisive as hell ]
no subject
That's always how it is. It's how it's always been - I grew up knowing that I was less than any of them. [ she says, with a touch of fury to her voice. she shoves her hands in her jacket pocket, glancing away. ]
... You're a noble, right? You'd be a topsider.
[ like just... in social standing? that's where he'd be. but she doesn't say this like she thinks he's the enemy, she says it in the sort of way where - she'd want to trust he'd try to fix things. hesitantly. like she's been burned before. ]
no subject
[ yeah. man - hearing that grinds his gears but he can't say it's surprising, either. prejudice and despair are the norm, but it burns strohl now as much as it always has, if not more now that he's spending his time traveling with will. ]
My parents always taught me that nobility is not about having status or being better. It's about the fact that if you've been granted some sort of privilege by society, you ought to use it to help people. Not just your friends, or your cronies, or your sycophants - people, your people. It is a responsibility.
[ he's made a similar point before, reiterated now. nobility is a sacred duty. noblesse oblige. ]
I don't stand for a society like what your topsiders do. Euchronia's no different - I watched a man use his last words to scorn Will, say he couldn't bear to be saved by an elda. It's ridiculous. [ he's getting a little heated again, as usual - the awful soldier as much as the paripus in the mines, miserable, used as bait. it makes his stomach churn. ] But, we're going to make it different.
no subject
You know, you say that, and I believe you, a little.
[ dangerous. that's dangerous, because she's been burned before. recently. so, so recently, right before she got here. we're doing this to make things better. join up with me, and you'll see. vi rolls her shoulders. ]
I knew someone who thought the same as you. She rejected the desk job her mother got her to be out on the streets, hands on. But she lost it. Whatever good she thought she was going to do went out the window and into the gutter when her mother got caught in the crossfire.
If the gunk under your shoes, the lowest of the scum, the people you're trying to save, killed your captain? Would you still believe in what you were trying to do?
no subject
[ never once. but, he knows what she's saying, and he gives its due weight.
in the future, he'll face the horrors of horrors - he'll face will transformed into a monster, and he'll face it with fear and regret it for the rest of his life. in the split second, strohl will return to himself, but that split second of doubt will rattle him - though not enough to send him crashing down. for now, though, he considers what could happen, if someone gutted will in the middle of the street.
there's a long, thoughtful silence. and eventually, slowly, strohl says: ]
I wouldn't stop believing in it. I'd be furious - course I'd be furious. Beyond it. I'm sure I'd lose my temper - I'm not going to pretend that I'd handle it with only kindness and grace in the very moment, no matter how much I'd like to.
But...the actions of one person don't determine the behaviour of many. Good or bad. If I were to blame a whole group of people for one action, I'd be no better than any of the bastards I've met on our way. That was their choice to make, their consequence to face, not the people's.
If someone killed Will, it'd be mine and the others duty to carry things on the way he'd want it to be. It's what we've done since we started for the Prince, anyhow.
no subject
it's a little hard for her to believe, but it isn't fair for her to pick at it. she's not even interested in doing that. vi's no saint. if she was in that situation, there's no way she'd handle it well, and - well, honestly? she'd probably do exactly the same as strohl, and that's why it's a good answer. because it's human, because it's sticking to a principle that you believe in, even when you know your emotions would get in the way.
so vi sucks in a deep breath, and reaches over for him, ruffling his hair, and then pulling him in. she bonks her forehead against his, resting that hand against the back of his head. ]
Keep that.
[ all of that. everything you just said. ]
Hold onto that, even if it kills you. It's important.
no subject
oh. he's about to reach up and swat at the hands ruffling at his hair, but the sudden gesture stops him, hands hovering sort of comically in midair at first, cheeks turning a little pink. it takes a second for him to get his bearings, but after that initial beat, he reaches up and sets a hand against the back of her shoulderblades, steadying.
... ]
I will. [ that much he knows. muttered: ] It probably will kill me. Can't think of a better way to die, though.
[ DON'T JOKE ABOUT THIS!!!! (only it's so not a joke but he survives the weekend unlike someone so you know). ]
Thanks, Vi. [ said a little softer, a little more seriously. the promise he made surges deep like a pilot light. ] ...Sorry, that someone wavered on you.
no subject
she stays there for a bit. for all the tough guy persona that she puts up, for as rough and rude as she can be, she is touchstarved in the worst way. it's nice, to have someone return the favor. to not feel like she's going to get stabbed in the back by just existing. when he jokes, she snorts, and finally lets go of him, easing back with a sort of tired look on her face. ]
There's plenty of better ways. [ to die, she means, making a face at him. but... as for the rest, she shoves her hands back into her pockets. ]
Sure. Knew her about as long as I've known you, so don't go changing on me.
[ it's been a little longer, maybe, but the sentiment is there. she bonds quick. ]
no subject
anyway. the tired look doesn't go unnoticed, and neither does the face - he snorts a little and jostles his shoulder into hers before she gets too far, with a little weight behind it. for the sassy face. ]
Not planning on it. Same goes for you, though - I've a feeling that won't be an issue. [ he's got a good sense for people. always has. ] Long as you quit calling me a goat.
no subject
she takes the jostle easily enough, grinning a bit. it pushes that terrible mood out of her mind, at least. ]
No promises. [ she reserves the right to bully him. but also: ] Hey, come get something to eat with me. I'm starving.