Veth isn’t sure that she’ll ever stop flinching when strangers look at her.
Will she ever stop expecting fear or scorn in their eyes? Will she ever stop feeling like she needs to explain herself? Will she ever be able to accept a smile from a stranger, kindness from a stranger, with the knowledge that if she had green skin they most likely wouldn’t be nearly as kind?
Her people are special, they looked at her in her green and her mask and her bandages and they fell in love with her but she doesn’t pretend that the rest of the world could do that. She doesn’t pretend that the young man working the ice cream stand would give her a wink and a free extra scoop if she had all her extra teeth and long pointed ears. She doesn’t pretend that the old woman whose handkerchief she returned when she saw it drop to the ground would have rewarded her with a piece of gold instead of a scream and a smack with her cane.
How do normal people know that they're really, truly loved?
How do they go through life believing that their people love them when they haven’t seen their husband give them tender looks even though they’re not the person he married anymore? How do they know they’re really part of a family until someone kisses their goblin head and holds their hand, claws and all, and tells them ‘Hey, no matter what, I’m on your side’ while looking directly into their wide, yellow eyes? How do they know someone would miss them when they’re gone until they’ve seen someone cry over a dead goblin girl with a stupid, made-up name?
How do they know true friendship until they’ve had Jester come in the first morning after changing back like nothing was different and braiding their hair like normal without pause?
How do they know true companionship until they’ve heard Caduceus say “Nott, I mean- I mean Veth. I suppose I mean Veth… Do you want me to say Veth? Okay, then, Veth it is,” and then transition without another misstep?
How do they know the feeling of being truly protected until they see Beau instinctually step between them and a stranger, then apologize under her breath when she realized it wasn’t necessary for them to hide anymore?
How do they know true compassion until Yasha comes to the ship with a flower she found and tells her “It reminded me of you because it is green on the outside and bright pink on the inside. Well, pink like love, not like blood, although there is that inside you also but that wasn’t… Nevermind.”
How do they know true kinship until they find Fjord asleep in a chair below deck after having spent the evening adjusting the grip of her weapons to fit her new, slightly larger hands without her having to ask?
How do they know true love until they’ve sat beside Caleb as he read and had him idly run his fingers over their wider shoulders as a quiet reminder that he was there for her?
She almost feels sorry for them all sometimes, all those people out there who never got to be Nott The Brave. Those sorry fucks don’t even know what they’re missing.
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