Forever Home renovated Chapter 1
The city was cold, and quiet save for the crunching of boots on asphalt. With a bag slung over one shoulder, in addition to the backpack, a man trudged forwards. His dirty face was streaked with blazing patches of clear skin. One flood, one flood was all it took, and his future was gone.
Just one more misfortune in a line of many. He’d practically grown up in an apocalypse. The many scars that littered his body under his baggy shirt and pants were enough to indicate such. It used to be he travelled with other people. First his parents. Then a close friend and his family.
For a while, things looked up. He even had someone. He rubbed his face. He couldn’t think about her right now. Not so soon after. The river flooded. Now he was alone. He’d never been alone in his life. At least the rain let up for now. Though he was aware of the flashes of lightning in the distance.
The lone man struggled through a hole in a relatively stable building. It looked like it had been a grocery store. It was picked clean now, and only served as shelter for the evening. Just in time too, another thunder clap sounded from the deep, overcast skies above.
He wanted to eat, but his stomach wouldn’t allow it. Too upset to really chance anything more than water. Even then, he was scarce on that. With a huff, he settled behind what had been the counter of the store. There was an open space under the physical cash drawer. Something that had also been picked clean indicating looting during the early days.
It was that empty space he made his bed in. Bags tied to him, and curled around anything of value. He took a breath, and let his eyes shut. It had been a bad day. A very bad day. So when the ground started shaking, he knew he was in for more of the same.
Quietly, he listened closely to the sounds. It was either a jötun, or a very loud ogre. Both were terrible to encounter. They started arriving four years after the disaster. Right after the other things. Ogres, Jötuns, even actual dragons started tearing apart houses and kidnapping people. Worse yet, they were frighteningly effective at it.
He held perfectly still. Silent as a mouse. Yet even that wasn’t enough. The wall exploded inwards, and was pried apart with frightening precision. He collected his things, and bolted. The damn thing must have watched him enter the building.
He got as far as over the counter, before large fingers entangled around himself and his things. He struggled, kicked, and bit. Finally, he screamed. As loud as he could, at the top of his lungs. A warning to any potential survivor nearby. He counted himself as doomed when he was unceremoniously shoved in a sort of wooden crate.
It was only large enough for him to stand. His affects were squished snugly against his stomach and back. There was an acrid smell that lingered in the wood’s surface, soaked in. He continued screaming until the lid was shut, and his voice was muffled. He was alone, aside from the monstrosity that had captured him. And now they travelled in some direction he could hardly make out.
At least the box had air holes. He slammed his head into the wall, and screamed again. This time in rage. It would be the first of many boxes he’d occupied in the next three months.
It was done. His perfection. His magnum opus. He’d had a table custom made with a high wall, able to sustain a small garden, and still prevent escapes. One wall jutted forwards, with a series of compartments and framed off with glass. These were made up to look like a dwelling. Complete with water pump, and shallow basin for the equivalent size.
For an enclosure, this was pretty much the best he could make. It took up a large section of his kitchen. As that was where he spent the most time anyways. He’d positioned a chair near it, and charts to keep track of the little thing’s health. Under the enclosure’s main area was a water tank, that could be easily removed if need be. As well there were drawers for everything he might need.
Keeping a micro climate was second nature to him. Thus it only made sense he started something like this for a tiny pet. They took up only the space of a palm. Much like elves, or merfolk. Yet they made up for it in bold personalities, and a habit of terraforming and modifying their environment in ways neither of the previously mentioned species did.
Yet, they didn’t appear to speak any known language. If at all. They hardly had any defences for the monsters and beasts that were native to the area. Finally, their native environment looked to be destroyed. It was a given that the larger races had to intervene. Especially the elementals.
Most large folk kept them as pets. Although, they were apparently spirited, they were easy to care for and safer than elves. What confused the forest giant the most, was the lack of information available. No spells for animal speech were attempted, no effort given to understand. He decided to take on the task. Step one, was to actually get the subject of study.
The giant settled onto a chair, and wrote the date into the journal. [Leaving to pick up subject now. Looking for adult or sub-adult male.] With that, he threw his jacket on, and left the house. He trodded down the flagstone path, idly looking over the tops of his most mature trees. They hardly made it past his elbow, but they were still young. The forest before him was much more dense, and reached eye level.
Delicately, he picked his way through the thick woods, and arrived at a massive copper structure. Two spires crackled with magical energy, a permanent teleportation spell was carved into the flagstone between them. Any charge they picked up from thunderstorms, kept the magic fed.
He passed through them easily enough, and landed in the city of the colossus. The city smelled of sulphur, and was made of molten rock. It’s citizens sparked and crackled as they moved. Living fire made flesh. It was one of the few giant settlements. Most giants lived solitary lives, only meeting their neighbours once or twice a decade. Unless they were close friends. The city of Colossus was the only one that held shops, and businesses that specialized in giants.
Dragons often visited as well. Rarely did they purchase anything, but they sold plenty. Iron, and raw gemstones were a popular market from such creatures, and the treasure they were paid added to the hoards they grew. Two of which were arguing over who brought the finest of silks that day, and if it was worth selling or commissioning to be made into something.
The giant ignored them, as he entered a small store, labelled as a pet shop. When he entered, a young stone giant perked up. His marble like skin polished, and shined as he forced a fake smile, that fell to shock and awe as he spoke. “Welcome to Missy’s miraculous pets. How may I- I KNOW YOU!” He jabbed a finger at the forest giant. “William Heart!”
The man sighed. In the three months after his capture, he grew a rough beard that itched. His hair had matted and his muscular structure had weakened slightly. He’d gone from survival to existence. No longer did he strive to live and breath every day. He was fed regularly, and water was provided. He’d gone through a month of what he assumed was a quarantine period, and was brought to a large room. Everything provided free of charge.
Yet he was more isolated from the others. In quarantine he could see, speak to and even touch other people, albeit through wire bars. Then he was brought to this place. He could hear other people. If he shouted he could even speak to them. There wasn’t much to say though. Besides the occasional plan or theory shouted across the massive room.
They’d deduced that they were in some form of shop. Whether it was a pet shop or grocery store was up for debate. Though he personally leaned towards the idea of a pet shop. Grocery stores didn’t tend to separate the lobsters. The debate never went too far though. They’d lose their voices before long.
There were sounds of other animals as well. Strange shrieks, neighs and yowls. So many live animals was also not typical of grocery stores. The kicker would be if there was pet supplies as well. Which couldn’t be seen from their vantage point. They’d have to be able to see more of the store to really tell.
During one of the ‘screaming nights’ as he affectionately called them, a plan had been hatched to end the debate. Lead by his neighbour. A woman by the name of Mary-grace. She’d been brought in a day after him. In that time, she bit two of the workers. It had been her who proposed a plan to call out what was happening to the next person who sold.
The human community had mostly agreed that the next person to be sold would yell one word when being rung up. Pet, or food. Then as new people were brought in, the ones who remained would fill them in. This plan had been shouted from across the room late at night. Not everyone agreed, they reasoned ignorance was bliss. The others tried to convince the out-layers, but he decided it was their right.
At least if they were in a pet shop there wouldn’t be some horrific death after. Then again, it would also mean he was the equivalent of a hamster. He supposed he’d always wondered how a gerbil felt. With that in mind, he watched idly as a mother and daughter meandered around the store. At least he assumed they were mother and daughter. He was both horrified and mesmerized as blazing creatures shopped about.
They crackled like molten lava, cooled to dark, ashy colours. Fire only rose from them when excited. Their skin hissed softly as they moved. The child practically was aflame as she dashed ahead of her mother. He’d seen many of them, both when a free man, and now. Yet they never ceased to confuse him.
He was perplexed by the fact that their skin didn’t burn anything they touched. Even living creatures were safe in their grasp. Jötun came in so many kinds. From sheer ice, to solid stone, yet he felt most endangered by the flaming ones. Thus this pair made him the most nervous as they perused his side of the store.
He discovered he hated Jötun children during his time for sale. The constant faces pressed far too close, or the tapping on the glass was enough. Their shrill calling and presumed baby talking was more the reason. Thus he was highly uncomfortable that this blazing girl was scampering about. She was tapping on his glass now. He curled himself away, and took to sheltering behind a sort of privacy screen in front of a grate. Otherwise known as the bathroom.
He still kept his eye on her through a small peek hole in his privacy screen. The mother’s face entered the view of his enclosure. She commented something to the child, and received a shake of the head. He was confident they wouldn’t be picking him today. Instead, they looked at another cage, the child bounced on her feet and started to cheer. An employee sidled his way up to the duo. Someone had been selected.
His neighbour screamed beside him. He never saw her face but he knew she was a fireball herself. So of course it would be her that had to be selected. Wouldn’t it? He felt his heart pang with guilt. If he hadn’t hid, maybe she’d be there another day. Even if that meant he wouldn’t.
She cried out for help, but there wasn’t really anything he could do. So he just rested his head on the wall behind him. She was pried from her cage by a worker, and shoved in a box. The mother and daughter conversed lightly as they went. The child looked a little saddened by the screaming and crying from the crate in her hands. He hoped she knew the weight of what she’d done. Taken a whole person for herself.
Mary-grace was carted around a far off section of the store. She yelled from across the building as loud as she could. The man started to show himself more as the pair returned to the counter. They had objects but he couldn’t see what they were. Mary-grace was silent during the ring up. Then shouted as loud as her lungs could bring about. “PET! They’re Se-” She was cut off as she was taken out the door.
Pet. Well that explained things. He’d suspected it all along, but now he was vindicated. The noisy food tray that screeched with every drag, the water bottle that you had to press a bead in the middle to drink from. The isolation. Oh god the isolation. He could see other people but couldn’t touch or talk to. The crates he was transported in. The glass wall and wire back of his cage. Now he knew why.
He thought it would be a comfort to know. Instead there was a wash of unhampered emotion. There was rage, there was hurt, and terror. What was going to happen to him if he didn’t sell? What was going to happen if he did? He slammed his palm against Mary-grace’s wall. Then punched it for good measure. Every day he’d felt mocked, and humiliated. Every day some new, horrific face would peer in at him, or tap the glass. He gave himself time to breath, and circled the room slowly.
There was chaos outside his enclosure as everyone else dealt with the same feelings he was. He heard people screaming. Some arguments about whether or not it was better to know. It was all overwhelming and loud. He found a good comfortable corner, on his bedding, and curled up around himself. When the bell chimed again, everyone fell silent. Then the cashier yelled.
The giant let out a strained laugh. “Well, my friends call me Bear.” He deflected. Only one person really still called him William. With that, he held up his carrier. “I’m here to adopt.”
The cashier bounded from behind his counter and led the man to the different cages. Though he started at animals like horses and such. When Bear started for the little critters the young man followed along. “Oh! Are you interested in a speaking companion? We have elves.” Someone from the elf section cursed loudly.
“No, I’m more interested in these little fellows. What are we calling them now?” He crouched before the first enclosure he saw. A female was flattening herself against the back wall, and searching for an escape. He grimaced.
“Oh, well we’ve been calling them Scamps. Though that’s more of a nickname. See someone you like?” The young man was eager to please, staring at Bear with adoration. The older giant stood, and paced slowly.
“Not yet, but I do have something in mind. I’m looking for a male. Preferably one who’s used to the goings on around here and know where food and water come from. Who’s been here the longest?” He stared around the room. There were no enclosures near the ground, everything had to be at eye level. The younger man slapped his hands together and lead Bear to a single enclosure.
“Easily this fellow. He tends to hide or frighten easily. He was found in a little nest. Took the whole thing with him. He’s not a big fan of loud noises, and hides any time he sees children. Well, he hides whenever he’s unhappy. Which is often.” The teller sighed. “So he’s been here for two months. He’s the last of his batch.”
The scene melted Bear’s heart. The scamp was curled in around himself, and refusing to make eye contact. He sat atop a nest made of old, ratty material. He’d sported a small beard and shaggy hair of a light brown colour. He’d probably require grooming, but for now, he just had to get out of that store. “Yep. He’s the one. How much?”
The cashier scooted off to start the process of ringing him up. This left Bear with his hand on the glass. The little fellow noticed him, and lurched back. “I guess you’re coming home with me little guy. What should we call you?”
The large, hairy face outside his enclosure was an unwelcome sight. Though the creature’s eyes crinkled with a warm smile, the black hair and beard almost drowned out anything else. There were flecks of green crawling up the creatures cheeks and temples like vines.
Something wasn’t right. This new intruder wasn’t looking around at everyone else. He wasn’t going back and forth. He wasn’t moving on. The man’s stomach dropped. The cashier had returned, and reached for the latch on the front of his cage. It had been locked, but he knew they could open from the front.
The one staring at him had a crate in hand. The human made a very clear decision that he was not going in that box. He bolted as soon as the first hand reached for him. He didn’t have much leeway to run, but he was going to deliberately make himself a problem.
As the clerk reached in again, he made a break for it. He skidded under the second attempt at a grab, and bolted from another hand coming for him. The clerk was using both hands to coral him, which he could easily slide under. His ‘wild’ days had given him plenty of practice ducking under and out of danger
The only thing he didn’t count on, was the water pipe. His head collided with it, and he was sure the sound it made was audible for even the jötun. He expected to hit the floor. Instead something warm, and broad lay beneath him. It didn’t take a genius to figure he’d fallen into one of their hands. He rolled to his stomach and bit down into the flesh below him.
He shook his head violently and tried to dislodge a chunk of the offending hand. He was satisfied when he started to taste iron. Until the fingers around him calmly closed, and pinned his upper half. Still grinding his teeth into the wound, he switched tactics and began flailing his legs. This was utterly useless as he was swooped upwards. Three months since his first capture, and the feeling of being lifted into the air was still disorienting.
It wasn’t the first time something picked him up like this. Though normally they’d restrain his whole body. He made an effort to keep his legs free, and forsook his plan to bite off a piece of his offender. He was starting to be lowered, he could feel it. His feet shot out either direction and wedged him outside the door way of the container.
Calmly, he was lifted again. He tried to re-wedge himself, only to have his legs gently swung counter clockwise. He couldn’t find the foothold afterwards. Despite his best efforts, he was in the box. He stamped about and screamed at the giant, kicking his container. When the hand returned, all his bravery dropped, and he slammed himself against the nearest corner, in the most troublesome place he could manage. His bedding was dropped inside with him. Including his backpack and from the day of his capture. He’d managed to keep that, at least.
The lid was closed, and he was carried around the store. There were shouts behind him, that he largely ignored. Instead, he turned about, and examined his surroundings. Desperately he tried to confirm or dispute Mary-grace’s opinion. First he had to figure out his transport. The walls were thin stone, polished and smooth. Air holes lined two sides, and if he put effort in, he could climb them.
There wasn’t much light, except for what was outside of the air holes. So he made use of what he had, and worked his way to look outside. From there, he could see where they were going. The rest of the ‘pet’ section of the store was filled with strange assortments of animals.
For one thing, there was a pen of horses in a set up more suited for guinea pigs. A large hut in the back of the enclosure made for a stable, and the animals more or less meandered about unbothered. Long desensitized to the massive creatures around them. He tried to make out patterns but saw nothing more than strange stripes on one.
Another cage, from his view, acted more like a fish tank. Much to his wonder and amazement, there were mermaids in there. Real, actual mermaids. They swam in circles and followed the giant as he walked. Unlike a fish tank, it was supplied with a large platform for his aquatic counterparts to climb up on.
Finally, he spotted a cage with an actual gryphon in it. From his section, the creatures were so far away. He could hear the other animals of course, but never actually saw them. He also caught sight of another kind of person in those separate cages. Slender, and pointed were the two words that came to mind. They glared at the Jötun as he passed them by.
Once all was said and done, he saw the other section of the store. Tools, water dishes, toys and strangely enough clothing were all hung on neat little racks. Things no future meal would be provided with from a grocer. His apparent master started sifting through some of the items. The man on the other hand, still had a duty to perform. While his master took his sweet time, he breathed in.
His voice was unpractised and hardly used outside of cursing out his caretakers or communicating with his fellows. Yet it still did the job. “I CAN CONFIRM! WE ARE BEING SOLD AS PETS. I REPEAT, PETS. WE ARE NOT THE ONLY ONES EITHER!” The creature buying him jerked at his sudden shouting. He gave a short nod, and let himself drop. Once the others started calling out that they’d heard him, he knew he had to rest.
Somehow, he doubted his troubles were going to end soon. It was best to take what respite he could get. He heard the cash register. Heard the sound of the door opening and closing. He even cued in to the sound of his new owner’s footsteps crunching on the road. The air wasn’t as fresh as he’d hoped. More like rotten eggs than fresh trees and flowers.
He tried to doze off when he heard Mary-grace yelling again. He sat up and listened to her words. He caught the tail end of another tyrade. “-Throw you in every pit of hell I can find!” Well at least she wasn’t taking such indignity lying down.
“Mary!” He shouted. His owner jerked again. He took no heed of it, and simply watched out the air holes of his carrier. He could see her arm sticking out of the box she’d been shoved in. The giants were standing so close to one another now. He could almost see her. They didn’t even have to yell so loud now.
“Richter?!” It occurred to him he’d hardly heard his own name in a while. A giddy laugh bubbled up from him as he tried to stick his arm out to wave. The air holes weren’t quite large enough. She on the other hand waved vigorously. “What the hell? When did you get sold off?”
“Right after you. Look. I don’t know if we’ll ever talk again after this. So thanks for being a good neighbour while you were one. And thanks for clearing up the store’s concerns.” He had to leave her with something positive. Something good to remember. Though he was worried for her safety.
She was silent a moment. Then she spoke again. “Don’t freaking give up alright? We’re not dead. And we’re not dying. So don’t give up!” He let that hit. The Jötun mother and his master shared a laugh, and just like that, they were separated again.
Richter sat back in his carrier, and sighed. Last words were never easy. He’d said plenty more than he should have in his life time. He slid to the floor, and rolled onto his side. Whatever happened, happened. She told him not to give up. He wanted to believe that was an option. Yet the concept of giving up was loose at best. What would giving up even look like?
Would it be better to fight with every last breath, and risk angering his master? Or would it be better to be sweet until he could find a moment to escape? Was escape even a viable option? The thoughts were too heavy, he let them exhaust him to sleep.
Bear sat down at his kitchen table. He brought the journal with him, and opened the lid of the box. His little fellow was curled up asleep. None the wiser to the peering gaze above him. He sighed and began sketching. He took in the matted hair, and rough beard. He’d probably need to provide the little fellow with a bath at some point. For now, he’d take him to the sink. After a wash and a change, he’d probably feel pretty good. But that was a problem for another time. For now, it was probably best to put in the small comforts.
With a sigh, Bear began placing the last bits and bobs in the large enclosure. He slid open the top pane of glass in what was meant to be a sleeping chamber. With love and care, he painted the back wall with stars. Hand sewn the pillow that made up the flooring, and added some feather pillows for the sake of it. He set the clothing there, and closed the tinted glass.
The next part was recreation. He placed those in the room at the bottom floor. He’d arranged it so the feeding zone was under the sleeping area. The recreation zone was across the hall from there, and the bathroom area was across from the feeding area. He’d have liked to have it away from both rooms, but the small ones didn’t care for their waste to be near their food.
Next on the docket, was removing the little thing from his carrier. With the scars of the recent struggle still pink on Bear’s hand, he chose a much safer approach. He gripped a soft towel, and stuck his hand in the carrier. The creature woke with an alarmed scream.
As it turned out, he could still bite through the towel. Hard too. Bear let off a long suffering sigh. He worked with many a small animal. This was nothing new. With one hand, he lowered a glass bowl to the water pump. He had to set the little fellow down while he used both hands to draw water into the bowl.
In that time, the little rat made a dash for it. Bear watched him idly. There wasn’t really any place to go. When the little one saw the edge of the counter, he backed away and broke for another place. Once again, he was stopped. This time by the daunting sight of the breadbox.
Bear took that time to warm the water slightly with a sealed spell. A magical marvel in his opinion. Some just carved the spell on a stone, and it was there for later. Like an enchanted sword, only for utility purposes. Soon the water was a comfortable temperature. Much safer than heating it on the stove.
He took the hot spell, contained in a ball of crystal and placed it in a safe container. “Well. You’re going to bite me bloody again. We both know it.” He looked at the little creature, who was only now looking at the bowl. He glared at the giant, and backed away slowly. There was hardly enough water to cover the whole creature. He had to know he wasn’t at risk of drowning.
So when Bear set out the towel and soap, he was less than surprised to see the little thing trying to escape. Again. “I suppose you’ve had a bath before then.” He plucked the creature up by his shirt, and received a series of angry snarls and yaps. “Sure doesn’t look like it though.”
Now, how was he going to work around the clothing? Should he even try? Elves hated being bathed, it was considered more humane to allow them to do the work themselves. They were also speaking creatures though. Something Bear could never keep. That was an actual person just being dragged into the house. Despite their crimes, it felt unfair.
That was a matter he had no interest in thinking about though. The little fellow struggled out of his shirt while Bear was distracted, and landed himself in the bowl quite by accident. It was a wonder he wasn’t injured. Though Bear picked him up to be sure. The creature lay limply in his hand, with a glare. In a very person like way, he through his hands up.
The bath went rather simple after that. The little thing hardly fought, though he did keep biting at Bear’s hands every time he got too close. It was decided that an actual bathing setup was needed for the little fellow. They were reportedly clean creatures, so if provided with tools, he’d probably just wash himself. Bear made a point to note that in his journal.
With a spare set of clothing set down, Bear started to search for a cup. He found an old tin mug and it would have to do. He was tired of being bit for his efforts. Some things needed time. He thought of the little fellow like a wild grizzley, only smaller.
Thus the best solution wasn’t to brute force affection on his pet. Instead, he offered the mug down by the bath. There was no hesitation when the little beast crawled in. Apparently eager to be out of the water.
“I’m still going to have to dry you. You do realize this right?” The creature popped it’s head out of the mug as he was lifted to the table. There was a sense of cuteness somewhere in there. Curiosity was clear in the beady little eyes. Though it quickly turned to hate and rage as Bear lifted the towel.
He screamed bloody, indignant murder as he was towelled off. In this time, whilst ignoring the multiple bites and punches to his fingers, Bear thought of a name. “Skippy? No. Nibbles? More like Chomper.” He pondered these things, and once the pet was thoroughly dry, he let him be with the fresh clothes.
“Maybe we should call you Spirit. You’ve sure got a lot of it.” He glanced at the ruffled creature on his counter top. Now he wished it did speak. Possibly a spell of beast speech, but that would require touching him again. Something that was clearly stressful.
There was a bark from the counter. The little beast was dressed, and irrate. “Right. Ready to go to your house?” He smiled, yet the little thing still glared at him. Still, he begrudgingly climbed into the mug once it was offered. The fact that his new pet comfortably sat at the bottom was honestly adorable. Bear took him slowly to his new home.
A bath. An actual bath. He hadn’t had one since before his capture. Unless you counted nearly drowning in a river. His dignity might have been stripped, along with his clothing, but he was clean. His hair was still matted, and his beard still itched, but he was washed. If he could get to his backpack, he’d had a razor in there that could take care of the rest.
Had he pulled it any time before, when he was in quarantine or the store, there was a good chance he’d have lost it. Not that it was more than a shaving razor. He had to chuckle at himself, travelling in a tin mug had to be one of the strangest experiences he’d had. Though he had to fold his legs to fit, he was at least able to sit somewhat comfortably. He dared not stand up and look over the edge again. The earlier view had been terrifying.
It was still a little strange, but far better than being in someone’s hand. He’d take it. The debate in his mind of how to act from here on out still warred. Fleeing the situation wasn’t really an option from so high up. Perhaps if he was stuffed in a hamster ball. However, if this man was willing to carry him in a teacup to avoid being bit, he probably wasn’t going to be handled any time soon.
Richter found himself swooping low as his new master set him on a grassy field. He didn’t dare to hope that freedom was at the end of this ride, but the idea of walking on grass was pleasant enough. Maybe things were looking up. He crawled out of the teacup on all fours until his hands touched grass. Then, he stepped out into the high walls of his newest enclosure.
From his perspective, it was a dollhouse on a table. A table that happened to be planted with berry bushes, and grass. There were high walls, and a tree across from the house. There was a small tamped down section that made for a path. It looped about and returned to the house section. If it could be called that.
The building was mostly made of glass on one wall. With four square rooms at the top and bottom. Each had a small divot in the middle. Those were probably able to be moved in some way, like a door. The bottom half of the enclosure was clear. The top left room was tinted purple. Only one wall was completely opaque and couldn’t be seen through. He could guess the nature of that room.
Richter sighed. His suspicions about the access hatches were confirmed when the top of one wall was pulled neatly to the side, and his bedding was placed within. That must have been his bedroom then. Meanwhile his master babbled. On and on he continued until something finally clicked. He’d make a suggestion, and reject it. He was naming Richter.
Richter scoffed. He’d have to figure out his position on the big guy quickly. Was he even alright with being renamed? He needed time to think. Time he just wasn’t getting. With a huff, he made his way to the house. He supposed it wasn’t really worth trying to fight for a name he couldn’t even articulate to the monstrosity.
He chose not to worry about that just then. If he had to answer to a different name, so be it. So long as it wasn’t something too demeaning. Too... Demeaning. His mind started to slow down. Was this his new life? The giant started to repeat one word. He listened idly to what would probably be his name from now on.
“Sahndey.” The giant spoke it proudly. Richter rolled the name over in his mind. Sah-day? San-day? No, that sounded off from what the giant was saying. Sandy? Was he really thinking of naming Richter SANDY? He scoffed. “My hair’s brown, not blonde.” He stormed out the door.
Was he going to be a pet? Fine. Was he going to like it? To be determined. Was he going to put up with a name like ‘Sandy’? Hell no. He had a name. A good one. Given to him by a good man. Sandy was what you called a golden retriever. He threw his hands up and shouted for the jötun’s attention.
The giant eyed him brightly. He jabbed a thumb to his chest. “RICHTER.” He announced at the top of his lungs. If this big bastard couldn’t understand, he’d be made to. Richter determined he’d disobey every order given to ‘Sandy’. Any trick or even call for attention. He was not going to be renamed.
His master tilted his head. “Sah-”
“No. RICHTER.” He barked back. He enunciated every letter of his name clearly. He wasn’t going to take this. Whatever happened after this, would happen. He was plucked up from his old life, dragged into a pet shop, bought, stripped naked and dunked in a bath. Though admittedly he probably would have had a much gentler introduction to the water if he didn’t struggle as much.
Even still. He lost his home. He lost his family. He lost his friends and the love of his life. He lost his freedom, and his dignity. He’d be god damned if he lost his identity as well. This one thing. He desperately wanted to keep at least this one little thing.
“Sahn...Rick?” There was a genuine attempt to understand. Confusion, and concentration creased the corners of his captor’s eyes.
“Rick-Tur.” Richter spoke slower. Clearer. The jötun leaned in closer. He watched every syllable.
“Richter?” The human threw his hands up and cheered. He just about danced on the spot. The giant leaned back in his chair, with a smile of his own. “Richter.”
His victory was clear. That, at least wouldn’t change. If the big fellow was willing to learn his name, then there was a chance this situation would be tolerable. There was a possibility of at least comfort, if not escape. “Ricky!” His master boomed in delight.
Richter let his shoulders slump. It was probably too much to ask that the stupid brute got it right away. The dumb bastard probably thought he was just making a fun noise. Something that made for a cute name. He’d have to take it in stride. Ricky worked for now. It could at least be considered a nickname. He’d yet to decide what he wanted to do, but it looked as though his relationship with his new master would be acceptable.
Though the human hardly expected to be surrounded by a large hand. He was cut off from his shelter. Was he going to be grabbed again? Picked up? Did he do something wrong? It didn’t track with the behaviour but neither did the sudden hand in his face.
Richter’s fight or flight instinct kicked in, and chose freeze. His body locked up against his will. The giant withdrew as though he’d been burned. The giant said something, he sounded panicked but honestly the human couldn’t comprehend it. Once his legs started moving again he bolted for the door, and fled up the stairs.
He locked himself in the bathroom, gasping for air. Scratch that acceptable comment. Tolerable, maybe. Perhaps that was an absent minded grab, or something else. There was still quite a lot to sort through. His master was already talking softly outside the shelter. And wasn’t that just the peaches on the cream? He had a ‘master’.
His hopes, dreams, and opportunities were stolen from him the moment he was captured and sold with him. There had been a physical, monetary price on his life. Someone actually paid that price other people put on him. Just took him home like a hamster. Adding to the indignity of it all, he was trying to be fine with it.
Richter dropped and let himself finally break. He had privacy for this at least. He took several deep breaths, and couldn’t hold himself together any longer. He screamed. He pulled at his own hair and let himself fall against the door he’d just locked.
His greatest victory in those past months, even before he was captured, was that he sort of got to keep his own name. Lucky him right? At least he got to keep that. At least he got to have some connection to a life that was always messed up by other forces. He folded in on himself and started to heave deep, near sobs. He had to calm himself before he did something stupid or made himself physically ill.
He took a breath, and slowly considered his situation. He had a shaving kit. It would be nice to feel more like himself. Reclaim that, at least. His master heard him screaming and banging about. He should probably show his face, before he caused concern. A shave, then a tour of the house. He could do those things, and settle himself in the process.
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