[We started RPing on a forum so I no longer have a date for this, but we seem to be going at a rate of one-or-two-posts each per-day, so I'll just update this every ten posts or so.]
Riley, fortunately for Sey, did not hear the muttered comments. Rather than stare back, he looked away nonchalantly, seemingly ignorant of Sey's confusion. He cocked his head and stared intently at Tad as he tried to put an image to the description. A 'real big guy' who could traumatize a mudokon this badly?... Suddenly, he seemed to realize something, turning his head down but keeping his glowering eyes on Tad. "That guy's gone," he said, his tone one that forbid questioning. "Finally caught the prick shovin' a mud inter a grinder. Ferget he existed. Now, wait fer that smartass savage over there ta finish the mess 'e made, then take over." Apparently he had drawn the conclusion that Seydas was a fresh native capture, and he was no quicker to acknowledge that fact than to insult him for it.
Epsi could do no more than to continue his own scrubbing venture, possibly helping with the mess so that Tad wouldn't have to deal with Riley anymore, after all, the poor guy was a nervous wreck and he certainly didn't want a suicide on his concience. He scrubbed even faster, hoping to get as much ground covered in one day as he possibly could, so that there might be the slight off-chance there would be less to do tomorrow. He didn't keep his hopes up, however as someone was bound to destroy all his hard work. He silently grieved for the clean floors that would soon be made dirty again, and then was reminded of Tad and realised he didn't have it nearly that bad.
Tad flinched at the mental imagery of a Mud being thrown into the grinder, suppressing a whimper with the palm of his hand. Well, at least that horrible Slig was gone... But he had become the least of his problems. He was, after all, still facing an entire lifetime of servitude. He'd actually liked that squeaky guy, as far as Sligs went, but the twitchy little thing hadn't seemed too fond of him... "O-Okay," he said timidly, slapping his hands together decisively and cringing at the noise it made. "... T-Thank you, sir... I'll... I'll work extra hard, th-thank you..."
Seydas's expression went neutral at Riley's comment. He did not appreciate being referred to as a savage, but "smartass," as a number of his tribe members would tell him were they here right now, was probably right on the mark. It was not something he would deny, though he felt that in better times, "blunt" was a little more accurate. He paused to wring blood out of the rag and continued cleaning the rest of his own mess, a tiny bit more slowly but more thoroughly in turn. He didn't want to be TOO obviously wasting time, but if one of them was getting a break out of this, he figured he'd milk it for Tad's sake - poor guy. Secretly, though, he was disappointed in himself. That part of him felt that going for the small victories already meant he might as well give up. He whistled a quiet tribal work melody while scrubbing into a particularly reluctant spot, vowing to look for better opportunities. He just hoped he would find one before he had lost the will to take advantage of it. Or before he had gotten himself maimed or shot for burning the wrong slig, of course...
Epsi heard something about a Mud being shoved into a grinder, and all of a sudden felt rather ill. Yet he continued working, watching the newcomer whistle, and he knew the worst was about to happen, after all, no one was allowed to whistle, yet the tune seemed so comforting he almost forgot to smack him upside the head, which he did.
"Don't whistle, the Sligs'll beatcha. I learned that the hard way," he whispered, quickly getting back to work. There wasn't much else to do in this block but scrub, since all the lever pulling jobs were taken.
Riley took a long-awaited drag from his cigarette, pacing away from the mud as he exhaled. When was the last time a mudokon had thanked him? It had never happened, and it shouldn't have been happening, especially not with a mud this badly abused. "Whatever ye..." he started, then stopped himself. 'Whatever you want' was much too lenient... "Yeh, whatever, just get this shi t cleaned up." Rather than scold the whistling mud or at least ask it to stop, Riley actually ignored it, or perhaps even... enjoyed it? The chikachikachika of his steps came to a halt once he reached a few paces away, and he stared ahead motionlessly, covertly listening to the tune with intent.
Tadelesh paused as the Slig hesitated, his skin's blue color actually fading into a lighter shade for a moment. Was he... About to say something nice? He'd stopped himself, but the feeling was there, and the Mud had managed to fill in the blanks. Of course, Tad didn't smile; he said nothing, simply wringing his hands and watching the Slig walk away with his head tilted slightly to the side. Was it even possible for those things to be... "nice?" He didn't want to doubt, but he didn't want to judge... He turned to face Seydas, suddenly aware of the whistling above his own thoughts, and he stared blankly before joining into the song, whistling another part to the same tune in a much more subdued manner. He knew that song...
Slowly, he padded his way over to the other Muds once more, the soft patter of his feet matching the beat of their song in an almost obsessively perfected manner. Maybe the other Mud would want to whistle with them...?
Seydas had been idly expecting to receive some kind of abuse for the whistling, but not from the older mud. To him, this was a melody of home - sure, it had a rhythm suitable to keeping oneself busy, but to him it always evoked images of the rest of his tribe simply living their lives and making themselves mutually useful in whatever way suited them. Building things, tending their gardens, gathering food, even cleaning was far more dignified in that setting than this one.
All things considered, he couldn't help but be a little offended at the implications of the smack and the well-meaning advice. After all, Seydas had just given that slig a verbal smackdown and received a physical one in return; he knew as well as Epsi did that he should not be allowed, especially not ten seconds later, to have un-crushed spirits. He paused after the smack to let the sad mud carry the chorus a moment, keeping his voice very low with the slightest smile. "My thoughts exactly...friend. Interesting." He flashed a glance at the older mud, and started back into the tune in time for the next verse, subtly louder, letting himself feel the rhythm with the help of Tad's accompaniment. The noise of his scrubs fell percussively in time between those padding footsteps, creating an emphasis on certain notes and adding an almost jubilant bounce to the song. It made him work like crazy, destroying his preciously useful mess with a nigh-surgical efficiency. Not only did the rhythm demand it of him, but it would all be worth it to see what Riley would do now. He tried not to glance up from his work too much during the song, but the threat of missing any visible result of this whistle-test was far greater to him now than the threat of physical harm.
Riley's cigarette was forgotten for the moment, left idle between two of the four fingers in one hand. The other hand twitched ever-so-slightly with the rhythm of the pattering feet. Sometimes it was noticeable, other times not, and sometimes he curled his hand into a gentle fist and released it in failing attempts to remind himself to keep still. Never had he heard a tune like this one... He supposed it could only be the work of native mudokons, and as such he didn't care that his most-loathed slave on the block had initiated it. His back was kept to them, but his head had lowered slightly, and the glowering of his mask appeared to dim a bit. He was as relaxed as a standing slig could be, and it was becoming increasingly difficult for him to remain motionless before this song. With the most subtle movements he could manage, he nodded his head and twitched his hand in time. The motions may well have been undetectable to anyone not looking for them, but they were definitely there. It was all he could do...
Epsi slapped his head, there wasn't much else he could do, after all, if they started getting slapped around, it wasn't his fault, he warned them. He continued scrubbing, but eventually the song started getting to him, he began to whistle, but very softly, and his own tune stood out against the others, since he had not whistled since he was a grub. The raspy dissonance of the stressed mud's soon faded into harmony. Licking his lips, he was soon able to whistle better. It still did not effect how he scrubbed, since that was still as monotonous as ever, but he began to think of things he never thought of before, of strange places and strange faces. This frightened him, so he abruptly stopped, then continued, clearing his mind. It was a wonder he hadn't turned to the brew by now.
Tad's whistling was rather subdued and sad, but as Seydas addressed him, his breath caught. ... What had he said...? "... F-Friend?" Tadelesh echoed, and his eyes watered. He hadn't heard that word in so long... He repeated it to cement it in his mind. "Friend..." He looked at Seydas with twitching lips that appeared to be attempting a smile, then abruptly abandoned the motion and resumed his whistling. Now they had a three-part harmony, even though the white-feathered Mud had been a little off at first. It was beautiful... He could remember being in his village, whistling and working, being happy, hearing his friends - he'd had so many then! - calling to him... He rubbed at his eyes with the back of his arm, and the word bounced around his mind.
Friend... Friend...
He had made a friend...
__________________
|