#aitim

[semitenko]

some little guys :) (ft @starsknice and @sylveanh's ocs)

[notebookundermydesk]

Had seen before on Aitim thread list. Going through some tabs ran into the old Amenta threads list (which I’d been meaning to look at again but hadn’t actually done yet) and discovered the other character(s) involved were native versions, so, not needing to orient to a new world etc. Clicked on it and discovered it was also four pages! So, read.

‘Jinx’ and Jewel seem to have some things in common, which is - reassuring/helpful/good for me to see.

Much oh dear.

Aitim is such a *particular* character.

"Most people would be better off blue, even ones not at all suited to it." (Aitim)

Well that’s a particular thing to say

"I would like a very uninteresting life, personally.” (Aitim)

Would you

Cool character things! Cool bodyguard person! Eep reds.

[notebookundermydesk]

Aitim Neli: "I assume you can force me, but you're going to have to."

I like this sentence

[notebookundermydesk]

So I was going to etc and do this all in order and stuff (which is usually my brain’s cover for that actually won’t happen but) but 

"I don't think you can tell the difference between losing on purpose or losing by accident. And you could say I'd best not lose at all, but - what odds does that market give? Seventy percent? If you're going to try to make me jump for seventy percent chances then I'll miss one inside two years and may as well tell Telkam to get cozy in exile now. That's not how this works. Specific, bounded, defined favors, those you can have without giving me the slightest picture of the kind of man you are or the kind of things you might be expected to want. Subtle things, complicated things, things that even the best politician will fail at sometimes - in other words, anything really valuable - those things you won't get until you learn the game you're playing, and figure out what it means to you to win it. You want me to crawl around on the floor, you have it. You want to rule Anitam? Not so much."

-in color, https://glowfic.com/replies/508326#reply-508326

I don’t understand maybe 70% of this, but I’m uh, going to have an orgasm.

(not actually, and apologies to the authors if inappropriate expression of wow-ness).

*keeps reading* (and the whisper to Kan about Telkam earlier) oh my god Aitim oh my god Aitim.

[notebookundermydesk]

Speaking of Tanalo but on a different topic, did it cross his mind that Aitim might have decided to um, arrange an accident for him so to speak instead of... other things? Did he have like, protection against that or did he just not think of it? Or is that not a thing in this verse?

(Also, am I correct or incorrect in figuring that Aitim would, if it was reasonably possible and the threat was higher?)

[notebookundermydesk]

Aitim Neli (lintamande): " - I don't think he's on the hunt for a victim, but a bit of a controlling bent and some 'I made you I own you' stuff, yeah. I would marry him to be blue, expect I could steer him away from it, but I wouldn't recommend it."

Isel (lintamande): "You want to be blue badly enough to marry some controlling guy who might get abusive?"

Aitim Neli (lintamande): "...obviously?"

-are we out of the woods yet, https://www.glowfic.com/replies/524661#reply-524661

...Well there’s an au I um. Have interest in.

[notebookundermydesk]

Well guess who did the thing (it was me).

Er, lintamande said fanfic of her things is fine, I think that would could as permission?

Can be considered a (’au in the sense of the characters are in a different world/situation’) fanfic of in color specifically, kind of.

World with a like-reds-in-some-respects group of people set-up which has differences in various other ways. Among them the not-reds have a ‘royal family’ of sorts which is used by the main government as a kind of interfacing unit.

(In conclusion I have weird kinks.)

cw mentions of death, very brief mentions of torture.

He wonders sometimes what it might be like to do logistics with regular constraints. So-and-so much resources, so-and-so much need, such-and-such people. Not the other constant circumscriptions - work distributed as it can be without anyone appearing idle too much; readiness to take on elevated load without impression that they need more work. Or less people. Needs satisfied as they can be without anyone appearing too rich, too complacent, without impression of surplus (real surplus there never is. The two, he learned early, are not the same.) Born in a different universe to a different people, he supposes he might know. But these are his people and so this is his work.

The summons comes while he is in what he calls his office. Much of the time there is no reason for his appearance in person (which is, altogether, preferable to the times when there is). News that his family does not answer for personally might be delivered as electronically as the summons. But, of course, it is not. He always works such that he can leave at moment’s notice. Such that a successor could make use of it, if he disappears, such that someone in the interim could make use of it, if he disappears in the more time-limited sense.

He redresses - not so roughly that it is disrespectful, not so well that the ‘royal family’ will be said to be getting above themselves. Ties his hair up in its net; leaves a message for whatever person is on duty to spread it to the others (It’s Kiala. Her wife is pregnant and there’s a shortage of equipment… He draws up redistributions in his head, clears it. Walks through the door and across the street and into the tunnel.)

The room on the other side is empty. He stops on his side of the barrier, and bows, and remains that way. Between this and chastisement for keeping someone waiting, this is preferable. It is half an hour before the other door opens.

Someone in district 5 robbed a supply warehouse. They are gracious enough to show him some of the evidence, enough that it is likely no scapegoating mistake, this day. Small mercies, in some sense. They want the thief, of course. The story, for assurance. Any collaborators. He has half of a day. He gives his enumerated apologies and thanks them for their wisdom and forbearance and attempts to determine if pleas are likely to be productive (with this event and these people they are not. He does not voice any.)

Kan is waiting for him by the car. The news must have gone out by other channels, while he was receiving it. “I think they’ll take just the thief if we can find them,” he says without preamble. Kan nods, starts pulling up plans while they sit in the car. He leans against him without comment on it, takes a moment with his forehead against his husband’s shoulder. This too, he’s learned by now.

He wonders sometimes what investigation is like under regular constraints. Except when doing it; then he might wonder if it is still this excruciating. More than half his family has asked him by now, in their own ways, if he could delegate, maybe. A few more he has headed off before they could ask, or suggest. And his hair may be red but he is a prince and he does not say that he would like nothing better, would trade out lashes and snapped fingers without regret. (It is a weakness, but it will not serve his people more to be dishonest to himself about it.) He cannot. He does not have protection to offer his people. No presumption of innocence, no assurance that next time he will have half a day for this work again, that the next thief won’t be the storekeeper’s second cousin and pleas will still be useless and they won’t have to turn someone over still.

To sort the guilty from the innocent, when there are guilty, to sort whatever else might need sorting and can be sorted - that is what he can give them. So he does.

The first woman to sit across the table from him is lying. “He was going to die,” she says. ”He was sick and we had the money like it fucking matters.” (That part is true.) And she grits her teeth and has tears in her eyes and looks down and sideways at the table corner, and she is lying. (I wish you’d come to us, he does not say. We would have tried, we might have organized… Because it is not the time, not at all. Because he cannot promise that there would have been anything.)

“Was it your brother?” It’s less than an instant that her eyes dart up, widen. “If you want to die for him, you can. We won’t stop you. But I need to know.”

Afterwards, Kan comes in. Will talk her through the rest of it - turning-over, and transport, and interrogation if it’s bothered with. And the last part doesn’t usually need instructions, but some people have questions. (Yes we can have your cousin-in-law come for the body. Yes, we can send someone else instead, if you prefer. Non-violent crimes is bullet, back of the head. They say it doesn’t hurt much.)

He goes to talk to the brother. The brother, and his wife, and the parents, and a look at the not-dead grandchild. If the other death cannot be turned away, an interfamily feud might still be. Is worth averting, still. (That one, he thinks, he might have been born into knowing). He’s back in time to watch Kan leave the building. (The other car will leave the building also, later. He knows what it looks like; it doesn’t matter very much, if he watches).

He walks through the tunnel again, ten hours after leaving it. (Too long and they might be impatient. Too short and they will think he does not need the time, next time.) Bows, gives his report. No conspiracy, no collaboration. One thief. Selfish. He is sorry. They are sorry. They are grateful.

After, he wanders through the district. Stops at houses, smiles at elders in their seats, at children in the street. What do you need, what can we do, did your husband make her that dress, will you be dancing at the Turning again. (Tomorrow he will walk through district 5.)

Kan meets him again at their door. Familiar glances, words not needed for it again. Maybe someday. If we talk enough, if we know everyone enough. Head things off before they happen. It is, he thinks, as Kan knows he thinks, about as possible as supplying a dozen medical stations with supply kits for half that many. When it is a good day. But he is a prince and these are their people. So of course they work

He goes back to the office, and the distribution plans on the desk wait.  His phone got its courtesy note. Perfunctory interrogation, no surprises, it’s done. He sits back at the table and draws the papers to himself again.

[notebookundermydesk]

Timothy Laurence Way: "Whoever holds that council seat. So there's currently one person in charge, that makes our lives easier."

Me: *literally jumps up and down* Aitim!