Ah Faruk my refined Thin Man, future name Asherah. The right is a possible future look if she goes under the knife one last time to look less male and have repressed Viper traits show through some more. Also less frowning/annoyed looks!
I think when I initially created her I may have been watching some DC cartoons and saw Ra’s al Ghul and the face just stuck for her ever since then. Just gave her that perfect elder of her den and wise ambassador look.
Not something I expected to write tonight, but the writing bug works in strange ways.
A little glimpse of how Zhang and Faruk/Asherah became friends after their initial meeting. And Faruk/Asherah being a bit crafty on finding someone to talk to.
Don’t think I need warnings for anything. Maybe mild language. And cigarettes.
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Crisp air and cool rain. A steady downpour of rain pitter pattered against the ground and foliage. It blanketed the area, dark clouds stretching for miles. And Zhang was enjoying it. Top side, leaning on a railing in one of the hidden alcoves of XCOM mountain base.
His eyes scanned the landscape, taking in the sights. Gray and pale brown rocks, many trees, and the remains of a few crashed UFOs covered in vines. Though fog covered almost all of it. Heavy fog of two kinds. The one caused by the rain and the other was from that psionic haze that permeated the area. Their security blanket thanks to the sacrifices of a few of their psions when the base was attacked years ago.
Zhang drummed his fingers against the railing as he continued to look on. He took in a deep breath and sharply exhaled. Refreshing. The fresh air was a needed change from being inside the underground complex. Especially the explosives workshop that was practically his quarters at this point. He needed some time away from it. Give his hands, and back, a break from constructing IEDS. He also wasn’t in the mood to train anyone. Whether it be weapons training or psionic training.
“Miles…” He grumbled under his breath as he wrinkled his nose. Still had the smell of smoldering wires stuck in there. Had them to thank. An old XCOM operative that found them a week ago. They showed some promising skill in constructing IEDS. If only their work ethic matched. Zhang was about ready to beat them with his cane if they blew up another supply of Elerium. That stuff was scarce and a pain to get from ADVENT.
“Argh…” A grunt slipped from his lips. He had another reason to be topside. His right knee. Always felt terrible when it was rainy weather and somehow being underground made it worse. A hand went down and gave the twitching muscles a rub, in-between the open spots of the leg brace he wore. The injury that finally took him off of active duty.
“Tch.” He hated thinking about it. But it was only a matter of time before an injury took him out of the game or he got killed. Or his age. Didn’t like thinking about that one too. At least they had enough MELD to repair it, but not enough to bring it back to 100%. Could have been much worse if they didn’t have any of that miracle substance.
“All those who could do surgery were busy that day. And really… could have lost my leg entirely with how badly the muscles tore and the shots I took.”
He wouldn’t forget that day. Especially the searing pain and how badly mangled his leg looked. He sighed.
“Wonder if we get our hands on any more of that MELD… can they fully fix my leg?” A thought that occasionally crossed his mind. Even if the others still barred him from active duty, he would love not having to use a cane or wear a leg brace. Something to dream about.
He let his eyes wander as he enjoyed the rain.
“Hm?”
Until he felt a presence by him. Something near his face. Who was it? He didn’t hear the door open. Didn’t have his psionics active to detect who it was. Liked to give people their privacy since most of the blocking collars were busted or harvested for parts. And he didn’t care to wear one.
He turned his head slightly to see what was there. A hand. But not human. Though partially obscured by a sleeve, there were scales on their wrist. They probably continuing up their arms. But the hand was holding something. A pack of cigarettes. A silver and white box with gold lettering. Though the fingers obscured the letters so he could make out the branding.
Which Thin Man is this?
Thin Man. Thin Men and Vipers. The newest additions to join their remnant. Such an unlikely addition to their resistance group, especially with how fiercely loyal they were. But the one leading this group of defectors no longer trusted the Elders and wanted to give the resistance a hand. And they sure did when they saved him and his scavenging group when a black market was ambushed by ADVENT. They made quick work of those soldiers and got them out of there before the second wave came. Ever since, they had been slowly integrating into the remnants of the Asian branch of XCOM with mixed results. Some just didn’t trust them. He was somewhere in the middle.
He turned his head further to see who it was. It was the elder of that group of defectors. A former ADVENT ambassador, still dressed in those regal clothes. Though any symbol of the Elders had been torn out. Den mother is what the others in her group called her. Her. Still something he and the rest were wrapping their heads around. Even with the den mother answering some of those questions. Just led to more questions. Why did the Elders modified your kind to look more human? Better yet… Why did the Elders restrict your species to just females? He still heard some asking those questions.
So what was she doing here? Offering him cigarettes? Oddly specific… and he had been craving a good smoke. Had been ages since he last lit one.
He just looked at her with a brow raised. Studying that scowl fixed on her face and icy stare. She always wore a serious face. He learned that was her resting face. She wasn’t always angry, though some in her group, especially her children, liked to test her patience as they tried to integrate. And then some of XCOM liked to test her. Heard she broke a few arms of a few antagonizers. Served them right.
Her expression never changed as she shook her hand, moving her fingers to reveal a second pack of cigarettes. The second was a pale yellow box. And the brands. Zhang eyed them. Zhongnanhai and Jin Ling. Oddly specific. Just the two brands he had been craving. Had he heard his conversations with his friends?
“A bribe?” He let out a huffed chuckle. But he couldn’t help but eye the packs. Temptation.
“A thank you.” She answered, shaking her hand again. “One of my daughters overheard you’ve been craving these two brands for a long time. So she’s been hunting for them when she helps your people scavenge.”
A thank you? That got another huffed chuckle out of him. Really? He wondered why for a moment, but quickly remembered he somewhat vouched for her and her group when they made it back to the base. Barely stopped a fight from breaking out right then and there. He took the packs from her.
They were still wrapped in plastic. How fresh were they? How good would they taste? He shook his head and chuckled. Why think about that? Probably been years since the manufacturing date, unless these were freshly produced contraband for the black markets. Such a lucrative business with the amount of ‘contraband’ ADVENT banned.
But that taste…. He could deal with it if they were stale. He just wanted to satisfy that taste. Which one to open? He fiddled with each pack, studying them. His eyes fell onto the silver and white pack. That familiar writing of his homeland long destroyed.
Zhongnanhai for now. He nodded as he slipped the other into his pocket. Memories from the old days. And old life. Tinker’s favorite and his too. Had the old man to blame, and he missed him. He’d try the Jin Ling’s later. Had someone to blame for those too; Old Eastern European contacts for weapons smuggling. Hopefully, they were the higher quality kind.
He unwrapped the pack and popped it open. The familiar smell of tobacco and herbs tickled his nose. Smooth. So far, so good. He plucked one out and popped it in his mouth. Tasted fine so far. Now he just needed a lighter and… he didn’t have a ligh—
KLK… KLK… KLK, FWOOSH!
He looked back over at her, and now that hand of hers held a lit lighter. Looked like this Thin Man planned for everything. He leaned over and lit the cigarette. A few puffs and a blow. Smooth taste, a little stale. A few seconds later, he coughed. Coughed a few times to be exact. It had been awhile… But he didn’t care as he took another drag. It satisfied that craving.
He turned his attention back to the rain and his cigarette. Minutes passed by. And the thunder finally rolled in. But… she was still there. He could sense her presence. Maybe she wanted to talk? A high possibility. He was one of the least hostile people in the base towards her and the others, and only could count a few others on one hand that would chat with them.
“I think I should be thanking you.” He broke the silence as he looked over at her. She was leaning on the railing, watching the rain. “If you and your people were a few minutes late to that ambush, well…” He stopped, took a drag, and exhaled. “My group and I would be in some ADVENT prison being interrogated… or dead.”
“I think our mutual ‘friend’ set that up so it would happen like that.” She shook her head. “Prove my den and I’s disloyalty to the Elders. Not exactly how I wanted to find you XCOM people…”
“Right. Him.” He shook his head and chuckled. A contact inside of ADVENT. Good man. But he — and a few others — chewed his ear off as soon as he got the chance. A good way to quickly build trust, he said. Bullshit. What the hell was he thinking?
“Hopefully, he doesn’t plan on sending more defectors to your XCOM like that again.” She said. He nodded.
“Knowing him… he just may.” He had a few doubts.
The silence came back for a bit.
“So… what’s your name?” He asked. Better to ask now than never. “Didn’t quite catch it during that mess… and still haven’t caught it.”
“You may call me Faruk. Faruk Vosk.” She looked at him. Though there was a slight sneer as she repeated her name. Like she hated it. “And what shall I call you? Your people mostly use your ‘callsigns’ when us aliens move about.” And it would be a long time before that dropped. “But I’ve heard three names associated with you.” Her nails clacked against the railing. “Chilong. Zhang. Shaojie. Which is it?”
“Hm…” What to tell her? Be as secretive as the others or more open? “Call me, Shaojie.” More open. She did save his life.
“Mhm.” She nodded. She looked back at the rain. “So… Shaojie…. What are your thoughts about me and my den?”
Ah, that. “Truthfully? Mixed.”
“Mhm.” Seemed as if she was expecting that. “Doubt our defection? Change of allegiance?”
“Partially.” He still his suspicions, even with what their contact shared. But he couldn’t judge too harshly. He defected from the Triad. “From what you’ve told us, and from what our contact on the inside has said, you Vipers are some of the most loyal servants of the Elders.” And he had ripped the information from a few leftover Thin Men and Vipers they had captured.
“We are.” She couldn’t deny that. “Had ever right to be.” Had. That caught his attention.
“Something made you change your mind, didn’t it?”
“Various… invasions… I have taken part in during my lifetime. Then the subjugation of your species. The lies told of how the war started and more lies once ‘peace’ was obtained.” She explained. “And things that have happened to me and my den… my children.” There was a crack in her voice. But that face of hers never changed; even as tears formed. Was that mask starting to crack?
“Hm.”
He tapped his cigarette against the railing. Letting the ashes be swept away by the wind. What to say? Perhaps she wanted to talk about that. Why she was here. Sought him out and made a ‘thank you’ offering.
“Hmpf.” Crafty. That infiltrator side of her was still at work. And the offering was working, as he was now in the mood to listen.
“I take it,” he turned around, resting his back against the railing, “even the most loyal are not free from the Elders’ cruelty?”
“We… we were not.” A few tears had fallen.
“Talk.” He was a bit blunt, but it was time to cut to the chase. A few subdued chuckles escaped her lips.
“Where do I even start?”
Faruk decided she would tell him about her transformation. Possibly the beginning of all her doubts. Something she had volunteered. And the Elders saw that her old age and wisdom would be a boon for infiltration. It was a bargain, if not a strong hope that would save her den, her children, from such a fate. But it did not. Oh, it did not. Such a cruel twist of fate for her and a few of them. Changed just like her. Goaded into volunteering when they did not have to. That day broke her. She no longer viewed the Elders in the same golden light.
And her work only furthered a growing distaste. Elevated to the role of an ambassador once her job as an infiltrator was done. Lies. Just constant lies. Though that was the norm for the Elders. And the humans ate it up, wanting to live in a blissful ignorance the Elders were saving them from themselves. If only they knew the truth. Every single last human was a potential test subject. Humanity held something the Elders were after.
A few hours passed as she kept talking and the rain kept pouring. Zhang noticed that her posture relaxed and face softened as she went on and on. Seemed like she needed to talk. And somehow she kept her composure as she told him what she was comfortable sharing.
“That’s why… that’s why I’ve defected and taken my den with me.” She wrapped up her story. “I can no longer trust the Elders. They are no longer the same ones I knew ages ago.”
“Hm.” A lot to digest, but it was all believable. Several things matched up with what their contact had shared and then from what he and the other psions pulled from the minds of the captured. He’d probably hear more of these stories in the future.
“Hm.” He tapped the ash off of his latest cigarette. He already had gone through five. He’d save the rest for another day.
“Hm.” More stories. He contemplated something. An idea to toy with. An idea inspired by an old friend. Akemi. He missed her and the others. “If you need to talk again, sometime in the future, you know where to find me.”
“Mhm. That workshop.” She nodded. She looked at him, in a way still surprised he stayed and listened to her. “Thank you for listening to an old snake ramble.”
“We all need to ramble time from time.” Though he still liked to keep to himself, he had a few he had grown close to and freely talked about his past with them. “And I can relate with defection.”
“You do?”
“Let’s just say, my old bosses, before XCOM, got their hands on an alien artifact.” He shook his head. Still wondered where they got the thing. “The Elders weren’t too happy about that. And I didn’t like how my bosses were taking a variety of bidders for such a dangerous item, especially with an invasion happening above our heads.” The things people would do for money.
“Oh?” That had her interested. Something about those details faintly tickled an old memory. “Do tell.”
He closed his eyes and chuckled. Then told her his story of defection and integration into XCOM. What a hell of a time that was.
Still have Thin Men and Vipers on my mind, so I wanted to write about my girl Asherah. This is before she finds a new name for herself.
She’s opening up to my human Torn, telling a little bit about her old loyalty to the Elders before that all changed when she started questioning things. Little insights to things that will eventually appear in my other fics. And I really need to get back into a drawing mood and do portraits of several of these characters.
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“We were loyal… I was loyal… We had a reason to be.”
Or was that something that she told herself? She wasn’t so sure anymore. Especially with her long, modified life. The mere thought of that made a deep hiss come from within her throat.
“The Elders helped my species. It was genuine what They did. I’ve seen what They stopped. Such a pointless war.” There was a warmness to her words even though she shook her head. Just as the space fairing years of her species were looking bright, they had run into some trouble. “But some species just want to fight no matter what the circumstances are. They want power.”
“They stopped and repelled that war. We owed Them our lives. They didn’t have to show such kindness, but they did and continued to do so.”
A chuckle escaped her lips. A pained one at that. “They nurtured us, caused our world and ones we colonized to flourish. And return we pledged our lives to Them.”
“Such a golden age.”
But now, but now what she questioned what she saw. Questioned what she knew. All that recorded history… was it true? The prosperity was still continuing around the time she was born and she remembering that time. The memories were so vivid. There was great joy and peace. But was that all a lie? Were her memories truly her own?
“But now… But now…” A sharp hiss came from her; scales on her neck flared up and out. “I question all of that, after witnessing what has happened to your species… what has happened to so many species that have come before your kind.”
How so much weighed heavily on her mind. How she hated her one high status amongst the Upper Echelon. Was it truly necessary to strike humanity first to test the capabilities of a species? She knew the Elders’ time was growing short, but in doing so, they’ve destroyed so many humans, so much diversity they could have studied.
She cast a glance to her side, to the human she was talking to. Someone she could call a friend in this resistance group she had joined. Torn was his name. A man with a messy mop of black and brown hair lazily pulled back into a bun. A man riddled with scars he proudly showed to the world. Scars that were hard for her not to stare at. He earned many of the scars during the invasion; her kind was the source of most of the lasting marks. With how severe some were, he should have been dead. Yet, somehow, he was still kicking.
“The venom clouds…”
She studied his face again. It was rare when she didn’t. The right half of his face was a mix of black and pink, riddled with burn scars and divots. Barely any hints of his original tawny skin existed on that side. He told her he got that from getting hit point blank by the poisonous venom spit.
“Was a hell of a trip and burned like the dickens. Hotter than cat piss!” He gave a hearty laugh when he told her that story one day. That odd American Southern twang and idioms she had come to learn, mixed with a hint of Thai accent. There was still much to learn about these humans.
Her eyes followed the scar down this his neck. More Several bite marks littered his neck. Close encounters with her modified brethren; Thin Men the humans so lovingly called them. For them to resort to biting, they had to be desperate to get away. Then there was a deep divot of a scar so close to the center of his neck. Rumors said that one came from tangoing with a Chryssalid. It sank a fang into his neck, but he caved its chest in with a well-placed blast from his scatter laser before it could do more damage.
“Insane.” She couldn’t imagine a human purposefully getting close to one of those slavering beasts. The risk to fight one so close. But there had to be a reason. He wasn’t crazy. Well… that crazy.
“Wonder how immune he is to my kind’s venoms and poisons now? How immune is he to those savage beasts’ venom?” The thought always crossed her mind whenever she studied his scars.
“But it seems he got too cocky one day and lost his arm to one of my ‘unmodified’ brethren.” Possibly the greatest scar Torn had, though now it had been replaced by a cybernetic one. She had seen the recorded video of Torn’s group raiding an ADVENT outpost. This one had a Viper running the place. She didn’t take their intrusion lightly.
“Crushed two of your comrades to death and managed to get a solid hold on your arm after nearly breaking your back.” What happened next wasn’t pretty, but she had grown desensitized by the violence. The Viper had a solid grip on Torn before whipping around and slamming him into the side of the building. He got a few broken ribs from that. As she loosened her grip on his chest, her tail coiled around his left arm, became a crushing vice; twisting and breaking bone before she forcefully pulled back, ripping the arm out or the shoulder.
“You should have died that day, but those those bombs your surviving friends planted. And somehow your survived the blast.”
She wondered if this man had some guardian over him, keeping him alive through all the things he had been through.
“Somehow you still have that eye.” She really questioned how that survived the venom, but he could have received a new one by then. His resistance group had access to adequate tech to do so.
Feeling eyes on him, Torn turned his head towards her. Their eyes meet. A plain face for a few seconds before he slowly grinned. He knew why she was looking. Wrinkled his nose in return, a slight hiss came forth. She was still unsure of the human.
Torn. Such a strange name for a human. Had to be a callsign or nickname. A rather fitting one because of his appearance. Sometimes it was hard deciphering what was one’s real name in this group, but she was figuring things out.
But this human was… interesting to her, even as she still tried to gauge him. It surprised her he bothered to talk to her or her children and den mates since they were “accepted” by this resistance group. Learning the origins of several of his scars, she expected him to loathe her kind. Yet he barely treated them with suspicion. Still strange she could call him a friend.
Perhaps it was because the group’s psionics saying she, her children, and den mates had no ulterior motives; no active implants could be detected. Perhaps another bonus may have been the important operatives they saved a few days earlier. She was still unsure.
“XCOM.” She muttered under her breath. She still couldn’t believe she had turned to their side now. She once hunted them during the invasion and partially during her tenure as an ambassador. How things could change.
“Gonna continue your story, Faruk?” Torn asked.
She closed her eyes. Trying her best to hold back a hiss, but one slipped through as her nostrils flared. Faruk. How she was starting to hate that name. The whole identity that came with it. But she couldn’t remember her original name. No. Couldn’t stand to hear it anymore. That wasn’t her anymore. She didn’t deserve to be called that either. It was sacrificed when she volunteered to be an infiltrator and then further locked away after the war, as her role was not finished.
“Sorry,” she apologized for the hiss, “yes… my story.”
Where did I stop? Yes, I remember.
“I’ve come to question Their kindness as I remember what has happened to my kind.” Though she was born far after the initial contact with the Elders, it was still a time of prosperity during her life. But was witness to a great tragedy during her time. A great purge.
“Remember ya mentioning somethang about there being little to no males of your species, right?”
“Yes. There was a purge. Totted as them stopping a ‘mad’ uprising and then a way to ‘better’ our species genetics.”
“Sounds more like eugenics and wanting control over ya’ll.”
“Yes… yes…” She was coming to terms with that idea. “But perhaps… we had the more benevolent ones that found us before Their other brethren took over. Yes… maybe that.”
“Benevolent Elders?” Torn snorted at such an idea. “Sure there ain’t a screw I in your head?” He emphasized by twirling a finger by the side of his head.
Faruk chuckled, covering her mouth with her hand. The things humans would say. “Yes, Benevolent. There are ones that aren’t cruel. But it seems such few still exist.”
“Sure…” Torn nodded slowly with a raised brow. “I’ll believe that when hellfire and stars rain down from the sky and the oceans turn to blood.”
She raised a brow at that. “Mm hm.” Such a strange thing to say.
There was silence for some time. Faruk returning to her thoughts. Questioning so many of her memories. Torn was enjoying the sunset.
“So…” Torn spoke, yet trailed off as his gaze was focused on the sunset. A subtle orange glow illuminated the sky with reds and purples. The purples slightly enchained by the faint psionic energy permeating the region. “Got any regrets becoming what yer are now?”
“Regrets?” She muttered. A question that burned deep within her. “Do I regret it?” Head turn and and slightly pained scoff. “I don’t know how to answer that.” She shook her head. “I don’t know.”
“Old programing causing conflicts? Faint senses of loyalty?” He asked, tapping the back of his head.
She snorted, knowing exactly what he meant. “We didn’t have those kinds of implants.” One of the few things she was thankful for with how much the Elders deemed her species worthy. Fewer controlling implants compared to the rest under Their control. Instead, the Vipers were ‘gifted’ implants that granted enhancements. But she felt like some implants monitored what her kind, and could control them to an extent.
“But perhaps…” She raised her hand to her chin. A pair of fingers pulled at her moustache. Facial hair. Hair in general. Still a strange thing. “Yes, and no.”
“Yes, and no?” Torn cocked his head to the side. He crossed his arms and leaned towards her. “Oh, do tell me why, my scaley friend.”
She snorted at that. Half tempted to smack the smirk off of his face but she would let it slide. For now, she placed a free hand against his chest and pushed him back. He just laughed.
“It’s hard to put my thoughts together regarding the subject…” Fingers tightly twisted the mustache as her nose wrinkled. “Truthfully, anger boils inside of me for what they did to some of my children and my den mates after the sacrifice I had made.” Those thoughts were very clear.
She twisted the hairs tighter and tighter before finally letting go, head dropping as a heavy sigh came forth. “That promise… that agreement that was struck… The sacrifice I made, a risky one at that.” She shook her head.
Sometimes she wondered how she convinced her Masters to let herself volunteer for conversion when she learned of the plan to study this Earth. She was getting old and was best suited to running her den after a nasty injury during her service to Them. But perhaps They saw her age, and the wisdom that came with, as something useful. And then she had the gall to ask for her children to be exempt from the invasion. Perhaps that brazenness, not her lifelong loyalty, amused Them, so They agreed to the deal. How could she be so stupid?
“But it was pointless one, as They had the gall to go behind my back during the… invasion.”
“Ah.” Torn nodded along. “Out of the large lot of your kids and den mates, a good handful are them Thin Men like you.”
She nodded.
“Yeeeeeeaah.” He drew the word out as he leaned back against the wall. He smacked his lips a few times and shook his head. “I’d be mighty pissed too if someone dun did that to my kin.”
“Still can’t believe… They did it… How so much changed during my absence. Years I cannot get back.”
It felt like eons before she she saw them once again. Before she was allowed to see them, she under the knife again. For her exemplary service, the Elders were refining her form as a gift. But it was two-fold as They needed a few ‘ambassadors’ to quell the unease that permeated humanity after the invasion. The Thin Men perfectly fit that role, after further modification. They were accustomed to how humans acted, along with knowing the ins and outs of the surviving cultures. It would speed along the Elders securing the Earth with minor issue.
Yet, she could remember that day she saw her children and den mates again. So many emotions flowed that day.
“That day…” It was already hard for her children to see her in her new form after she first volunteered for the assignment. A strange spindly thing that lacked scales like them. It showed how masterful and terrifying the Elders’ hand could be.
Her refined form was met with roughly the same hesitancy once again when she finally saw her family once more. They were happy their mother was still alive, but she was still a strange-looking thing called a “human”. But now it looked like her “human” form reflected her age. Wrinkles and graying hair, and regal clothes that fit her status as a matriarch amongst her people, and new status as an ambassador.
“That day…” Her voice wavered for a moment. She hated that day. An already tearful reunion with her family became absolutely tragic. “They had changed a few of my den mates. A few of them died during the invasion. Doing what they were tasked to do.”
Thinking of it now, she felt so guilty she didn’t bargain for their lives that day. They were under her care; she was the matriarch of a few dens. But she was thinking of her children first. They came first. But even her bargain didn’t save them.
“I noticed a few of my children missing. At first I thought they were late. Each had their duties under those they served besides duties to the dens.” Her voice continued to waver. She brought a hand to her eyes, hiding the tears that were forming.
“But I noticed how everyone was behaving. There was a thickness to the air. A dread hanging low. No one wanted to tell me what was wrong.” How she wished she could go back and change things. “But I could tell something was wrong. Terribly wrong.”
How could I have been so trusting?
“Then they arrived… scents twisted. Forms cha-changed just like me.” She choked on her words as tears streamed down her face. Seeing her girls like that hurt her so much.
“Uh.” Torn eyes widened as he caught the streams running down her face. He had never seen her like that. “Faruck?”
She wasn’t one to let her emotions show or get to her. Patient and well-restrained, with a hint of bluntness, was her nature. Correction. There was one emotion that she would sometimes let the get the best of her. Wraith. Never mess with her kin, especially her children, nor those she had come to trust in XCOM. Her expression would barely break from that stone-face they were all accustomed to.
“Eight of them… changed… forms twisted much like mine.” Looked like she didn’t hear him. “Learned two of them had died during the invasion. They weren’t supposed to be there.” She still wanted answers for that. “And then I saw him. My youngest son.” The runt of one of her last egg clutches before an injury led to her infertility. She let loose a wretched hiss of a wail when she saw him that day.
“Why him?” Out of her three sons, why did They choose him? She had a theory. He was a rather troublesome runt, getting his nose into things where it didn’t belong. Perhaps the Elders thought she wouldn’t mind the runt of her children becoming more useful and less troublesome.
“Why them? Why him?” Tears full force, Faruk fell to her knees. Eyes close tightly as she tried her best to hold back the emotions.
But she did mind. Oh, she did mind. Her heart truly broke that day. Her sacrifice was made in vain and her children still suffered. That day broke how she viewed the Elders. How could They treat a loyal servant so poorly?
“Gosh.” That was the only word Torn could muster once she finished and broke down. A rare time for that mask of her’s to crack.
He kneeled, reaching out to touch her shoulder, but before his fingers connected, he stopped. He remembered she didn’t exactly like anyone touching her unless she trusted them. Instead, he fetched a handkerchief from his pocket. “Here. For the tears.” He handed it to her.
One hand still covering her eyes, she blindly searched for what he was offering with her other. Once found, she quickly snatched the rough cloth.
“T-t-thank you.” She said in-between sniffles.
“My pleasure.”
It took a few minutes for Faruk to recompose herself. Fighting back memories in-between cleaning her face and sniffles. But the memories were strong. Getting back on her feet, she tossed the tear and snot stained handkerchief aside. But she refused to face Torn; almost embarrassed at herself for losing her composure like that.
“If ya don’t mind,” Torn carefully paused, trying to judge it was a right time to ask more questions, “I gotta ask—”
“I know if I told you to bite your blabbering tongue you would still talk.” She had a rough idea of what was running through his mind, since he had been asking questions about her past. She already opened a can of worms and was still in the mood to share. “So ask.”
“Guilty as charged, boss lady.” He grinned. She snorted at the nickname. “Anywho, given the chance… wouldcha want yer body back?” Though his brain had wrapped itself around what the Thin Men originally looked like, it was still crazy what the Elders did to make them look like humans. He still questioned why they went the unnecessary extra mile to make them look male. But he didn’t ask, fearing it may have been a sensitive subject. “Original body, scales, snake n’ all that jazz.”
“My old body back?”
A question that played far too many times in her mind. Her mind and brethren who felt like her.
“Do I want my old body back?” She repeated the question. She turned to face him once more. Eyes were bloodshot, but she had a curious look on her face. Eyes shifting to the side for a moment as she searched her thoughts.
“Again… not sure how to answer.” She tapped the side of her head a few times. “Brain and pathways have been edited in such a way for this to feel more ‘natural’ to me to cut down on conflicts to make infiltration more efficient and make me more of an ‘authentic’ human.”
“Right…”
“But,” Faruk paused, “who knows how long that will hold. Even with all They have done, I still experience disconnects. Old repressed memories of what I once was occasionally surface.”
There were moments when she would see her reflection in the mirror, she would see her old self. That always put her in a sour mood for the rest of the day. And led to many broken mirrors.
“Just disrupts how I function some days. Dysphoria one could say.”
“Huh, don’t want to imagine how bad that gets fer ya.”
“Somedays are better than others.”
She took a moment to look down at her hands. Scales. Sandy brown and tan scales with a hint of red. A former part of herself she could bring back after learning the Elders refinement wasn’t perfect.
“But to answer, yes. If was possible, I would like my old body back. I want it back.” She couldn’t deny that deep want, even if it was impossible to get her body back. “I do miss my old body. Same with my family and den mates.” She rolled up her sleeves and further examined her scales. So far, a consistent patch of scales went up to her elbow had grown in.
“Why we have out… ‘rituals’… to bring back old traits suppressed by the Elders. Helps cut back on the dysphoria.”
“Riiiight, you guys little cuttin’ and moltn’ sessions.” Torn was witness to it once and found it strange. “You guys need to warn us when ya’ll doing that with what entails.” He shuddered. “And properly sign out the medical supplies.”
A soft chuckle came from her. “I’ll try to keep that in mind.”
“But even with that want,” a heavy sigh exited her lips, “truthfully, I don’t want to go back under the knife. Who knows what further modifications would do to me. I feel as though I’m beyond a threshold both my body and mind can handle.”
“I can understand that. Hated my surgery for my shiny arm.” Torn grimaced, remembering that day. Not enough anesthetics to numb the pain as the doctors worked. What didn’t help was his weird tolerance to the drugs, which required more than the usual amount to block pain for him. “Hate the continued tinkering. I swear Rita has it out fer me.”
“You do bother her a lot from what I’ve observed.”
“I’m just sharing the love!”
“Sharing headaches is more like it with how you pester and hover around her work area.”
“Yer just jealous of our unique friendship!”
“I would rather eat glass. If possible, still molten.”
Something about that statement made Torn break out into a fit of laugher, doubling over on himself. Perhaps it was the slight smirk that accompanied that stone-face of Faruk’s.
“Anywho,” Torn gothis laughing fit under control, “maybe things will get better fer ya’ll.
“One can dream.”
“Maybe searching for a new name could help out that process fer ya.”
“A new name?” Faruk’s brow raised. She eyed him carefully. Did he know how she felt about her name.
“Oh, don’tcha act all surprised. Pretty much everyone knows you hate that name now.” He said, rolling his eyes. “Hissn’, snortin’, and grimacen’ every other time it’s said.”
“Ah… right.” So he did know. Looked like she had been doing a horrible time hiding her feelings.
“Hey, yer my friend. I’m gonna help ya.” He smiled widely. “Whether ya like it or not.”
She shook her head, muttering under her breath. “There’s what Rita hates.” But there was something about Torn’s bullheadedness that was endearing.
Help her find a new name? A little chuckle came out as she shook her head. This human was a strange one.
“Maddening.” She wasn’t sure what to say to the offer.
“Hey.” Torn chuckled, shrugging innocently. “I’ve got books ya can pilfer through ‘em to find somethin’ suiting.”
“Thank you, Torn. I do mean it.” Maybe she would take up his offer. But limit his colorful input.
Pretty much how one of Asherah’s “daughters” annoys her. Note and for added hilarity, Asherah is a Thin Men. The refined type after the war. (Which shall be fun to talk about later.)
Asherah: *Having a very important discussion with another resistance member*
One of the middle daughters: *Slithers over and plops their head on top of Asherah* Mathair(mother), I’m bored.
Asherah: *Nearly falls over and clearly annoyed* And? Find something to do. Be with your sisters. Spar with someone
Daughter: *soon rubbing their chin against Asherah’s head because they like the texture* There’s nothing to do, they’re busy, and there no good sparring partners. Just squishy humans here.
Asherah: *trying to push her off * And? That’s never stopped you from bothering your sisters before. And? You just don’t like the no venom rule when sparring with the humans and others like them. Learn to adapt.
Daughter: They’re just– busy! *hisses and groans* That rule’s no fun! We have antivenom!
Asherah: That’s a finite resource and meant for battle treatments.
Daughter: *snooty hiss* Still no fun.
Asherah: *finally noticing her daughter has fully coiled around her* Oh. I see now. *letting out a sigh of defeat mixed with a hiss* You may stay but behave.
Person Asherah is talking to: *snickering* I think she just wants your attention and affection.
Asherah: Seems so. *scratching the daughter’s chin which gets a tail wiggle* Now, where were we?
Faruk/Asherah probably barely tolerated the Speaker. Just a clash of personalities. Had a random thought/daydream she had him on his knees, and tightly gripping his face, after the Speaker made a very poor comment or something. Thinking he paid a visit and noticed a few broken mirrors and made an offhand and slightly snarky comment about them. Sensitive topic for her.
And her nails are just tearing into his face as she brings her’s closer to his to tell him this:
“The Elders may have chosen you to be the speaker of this world, but remember… I outrank you in every aspect. You have a mind attached to that tongue; learn how to use it properly. Do not try me again.”
