@asterophile liked for a something!
Aelliana Moore has only been in Shi’Kahr for a week, but it is enough time. It is enough time to recognize that Raal was not unique in its bigotry — it is a shared vein, a riptide that sweeps, perhaps, all, into its current.
She has only been in Shi’Kahr for a week, but a week is long enough to gather looks from her classmates. They do not speak to her — they assess her and see, cleanly, obviously, outsider. She is slighter than them. Her ears are round, and her cheeks flush pink. Her bones are brittle, her limbs weaker. In every discernible way, she is different than they, and they note it with restrained hostility she has come to know as the only way others interact with her.
Mentor still has not told her why they moved, but if it was solace from prejudice, they have failed severely.
On the seventh day, after classes have concluded, she gathers her things to walk home, but does not make it to the school gates before she is thrown, an action as natural and unflinchingly delivered as though the boy doing it is used to such a thing. She has fallen to her hands and knees — bag yawning, books and PADD spilled around her. She keeps her head bowed, skin stinging, likely bleeding, heart ramming, racing as though to escape its cage — body stilled, awaiting the end of the violence; allowing it; perhaps, in some manner, believing to be deserving of it.
“You are two of a kind. You belong together.”
The words confound her, until her empathy catches back up to her, and she senses someone behind her. She glances, an action slow as to not incite more vitriol, and catches sight of green blood — a Vulcan, in a position somewhat similar to hers.
“Neither of you should be here.”
Neither of? Her eyes narrow in confusion, center again on the concrete beneath her. Green blood. Pointed ears, poking from cropped hair. How terrible...
How severe must his sin be to be likened to her?
