Their envy lead to isolation, an experience she was accustomed too, albeit from passive aggressive Vortians and not hardened soldiers, and her position in society had been anything but enviable; a squeaky wheel, a culmination of generations of bad blood. Rarely were Hal’s indiscretions addressed to her face by her own people; not unless they were some sort of authority. Vortians were famous for handling their issues quietly, sneakily, stoically, their strength and downfall (the Irkens had asked for the robot to become invisible, afterall).
Never ones to resort to physical violence, although they could bar her from different places, they could silently walk away from her wherever she sat; and of all the crimes she had committed, the one most grievous, spoken about in whispers, was the only one that wasn’t true.
‘That poor woman… the girl must have put her through hell, it’s no wonder-’
Hal would rather have been punched in the face.
She chuckled at what almost sounded like a joke from the purple tyrant, though she knew he was quite serious. Hal wondered if he would feel the same way if it had been him, not that anyone would dare.
“Yeah he was pretty mad…” she agreed, ice placed aside, it had become less soothing and more irritating. “Zim said you guys were soldiers with him.” she addressed matter of factly, hard to imagine them knowing each other for so long, “Ever been like, shot at? When did they find out you guys were gonna be super tall anyway?” before he could answer her litany, she spoke again, “Zim said he got shot at but… I dunno if I believe him.”
Purple understands something of the nature of ENVY. He’s often been the cause of it, while his own hands-on experiences have always been dredged up, hopefully unknowingly, by his co-ruler. It’s not quite as intense as it had been when they were newly-appointed soldiers, but a residue of ill-feelings still remain, more prominent after instances of juvenile squabbles or hasty disagreements.
Understanding Hal’s own familiarity with the emotion might escape him.
What would vortians ever have to envy? Maybe once upon a time. Before Miyuki’s death on the planet had broken the Irk-Vort peace treaty, there was more worth wanting so fervently.
The chuckle draws his attention back to her; he seems harmlessly confused. For a moment, he looks as if he might ask her what’s so funny before his very one-track mind is distracted by the questions she poses.
“...Thaaat’s true. We hatched during the same sidereal period. We all kind of spent, uh, most of our lives together? From nursery to training, so on---until he got BANISHED after the MESS he made on VORT.” He admits, eyes slanting just as they tend to when he’s thinking about Zim. His mouth remains open and face twisted into a sort of Zim-induced grimace until she finishes what she’s saying with that final comment, heavy in skepticism. Now, he struggles; his first inclination is to just answer honestly (Zim being shot at is funny, after all; he usually has little qualms about telling others about his ex-classmates’ failures), but he’s reluctant to confirm a claim made by him as truth.
“I mean, who hasn’t been shot at, right?”
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