(no subject)
Day 4: Snowflake (wc: 2275)
it's 3pm and i still had no idea what to write. i felt like snowflake was too obvious to write something about rinji and i remembered what one of ricky's lessons for alex was gonna be. the real scene will have to be changed especially since this is written in alex's pov but whatever.
"You ever read in your books that saying about snowflakes: everyone is an individual and shit?"
"There's this really good book," Alex's face lit up. "One of the characters says, 'You are not a beautiful and unique snowflake. You are the same decaying organic--'"
"Yes, exactly," Ricky interrupted. Alex hated being interrupted, but continued listening. "You can't be unique. You have blend in as much as possible, look like every other poor bastard in the outlands. No one should remember you or what you look like, and especially your name. You shouldn't wear that necklace."
Alex felt insulted as he looked down at the scorpion around his neck. "What about you? You have all those tattoos."
"A bad choice from when I was young and stupid. If I could get them removed, I would. Why do you think I wear long sleeves in this heat?"
"Okay," Alex agreed, but he still felt attacked. He didn't want to blend in with anyone. His father had tried to beat the pack mentality into him - literally and figuratively - all his life.
"I'm not saying you have to become boring and unremarkable. You just can't look it. Or act it when in the cities. You can't just go off on strangers about Caesar."
"He said he was Greek!" Alex protested. "He pronounced it wrong. And so did you." Alex attempted to hide the last bit behind taking a sip of his drink.
Ricky rubbed his eyes in emphasized frustration before continuing. "People are gonna remember the kid talking like a history buff with a scorpion necklace. I think it's great that you're not ashamed of what you are. That's not my point. What if some Rangers are trying to track you down?"
"We never stay in one place for too long anyway."
"Look, I know the outlands seem so big to you right now, but it's a lot of nothing, and there aren't that many people; only a few in our line of work. Don't you think it pisses the Rangers off that we make money off the things they outlaw?"
Alex smiled inwardly at Ricky's use of 'our'. "I guess. I thought you said they rarely leave the safe zone?"
"Unless they have a reason. Word gets around to the wrong people you're selling gasoline, alcohol, guns? They'll find you."
"But that's not all you sell." Alex wasn't trying to argue, and he understood Ricky's point. He was taking his necklace off, but he couldn't stop himself from wanting to debate. "I watched you sell a deformed doll to an old lady."
"I like to call myself a mechanic, but I'm just a scavenger, a really shitty merchant. I scavenge cars because I know them, I know what's valuable and I know how to fix what's broken. But I sell whatever I can find. There are things that anyone will pay for; things everyone needs. To the right person - that doll might was priceless.”
Alex scrunched his nose. "It didn't even have a head."
"Imagine that old woman lost her family in the cataclysms. Her daughter was only four. She spends her life collecting dolls because every time she holds one, for just a minute, she can pretend that none of it ever happened. How many dolls do you think there are left in the world, Alex?"
"I don't know. There aren't any toy shops in San Angelo. They 'promote imagination'." He finger quoted and rolled his eyes.
"That means there aren't any toys in the outlands, except for what you can find from the old world. It's probably one of the only dolls left that isn't crudely sewn from ratty blankets."
"So we could sell dolls and the Rangers would leave us alone?"
"No, that doll was a piece of shit." He laughed at Alex's confused expression. "I'm just trying to make a point. Things are worth what people will pay for them. You can't judge a find by whether you would pay for it or not. You also can't judge them for what they are. A gold tooth won't sell because it's a tooth - it'll sell because it's made of gold.”
"How am I supposed to guess what kind of weird things people are going to buy?"
"You get to know them, preferably without them having any idea who you are. You're fond of quotes. Ever heard, 'quick to listen, slow to speak'?"
"Uh... isn't that from the bible?"
"Yes, it is.” Alex didn't miss the way he rubbed his wrist, right where he knew the cross was stained onto his skin. "People either gather in outposts or hide away from the world. Either way they spend their life chasing things, and most of them are more than willing to pay a little extra to not have to walk around the desert to find them. Material possessions are how they cope with the world being the way it is."
"I hate the way the world is."
"Do you? Why?"
"Don't you know anything about the way the world used to be?"
Ricky shrugged. "I was six when it happened. I don't remember much besides fear."
Alex wasn't buying it. He knew Ricky better than that. "You're one of the few people I've met outside the city who can read. Fluently, I mean, not just recognizing common words to get by, you know letters. Why don't you read more?"
"You're avoiding questions again."
"I just mean... books taught me all about the way things used to be. There used to be so much freedom and happiness. You could go where you wanted when you wanted to, for any reason or none at all. Now there are the Rangers, who, because they control all of the guns and the bombs, they get to fence off their land, enforce their own selfish rules, and kill anyone who doesn't like it."
"Not that I don't agree with part of your assessment," Ricky pointedly lowered his voice and leaned in, hoping Alex would understand that he had gotten a little too loud in his heated rant. "But the Rangers rule the city zone with fear and nothing else. They don't have the most guns; they don't even have the biggest guns. If they had bombs bigger than grenades - which they don't - they would be using them. You're smarter than most people, Alex, and I don't think you realize it - not because you doubt your intelligence, but because you overestimate everyone else's. The Rangers tell the population that they're the only thing standing between them and the big bad world outside of the zone, and they believe it without question. Most people will do anything to not have to face their fear of the unknown, and if that means living their lives like a caged animal... sadly, they're willing to do it, and fucking thank the Rangers for caging them."
"You sound like my father."
"The Ravagers downfall isn't their outlook. It's their method."
"Can't take the city by force?"
"That you can't fear people into supporting you when they're already controlled by it. Most Ravagers don't really believe in the cause anyway. Their leaders - your father - they do. They really want to change the world, for one reason or another. But the majority of them, the ones who actually do all the work? They just want to belong, or to be promised a steady diet." He shrugged. "Or to kill and rape and steal and get away with it. Takes all kinds."
"You sound like you're preaching from experience. You sympathize with the Watchers?"
"I sympathize with myself and Rosa." Ricky pointed his mug towards Alex. "And now you. I just want to be left alone. I'm one of the few people who don't want to change the world. I like it the way it is. The Rangers can herd their cattle inside of their gates if they want. We both got out - if anyone else truly wanted to it wouldn't be so hard for them. The Ravagers and the Watchers can kill themselves off trying to prove who is right. I just want to make money and play with my cars."
"That can't be all you want in the world."
"Aspirations are dangerous when they're ambitious. That's how the Ravagers and the Watchers were formed. The way I see it: there isn't much in the world for anyone; don't waste your time looking for it."
"That's really sad..." Alex felt for Ricky. It wasn't pity exactly, but he didn't want his friend to be so jaded.
"It's enlightening. You can enjoy the little things when you're not waiting for big ones that never happen."
"But don't you want... I don't know, a family?"
"I had a family once. It didn't work out."
"Oh my god! With Rosa? I knew she was your wife!"
"Yes, with Rosa. No, she's not my wife."
"Your girlfriend."
"It isn't like that anymore."
"What happened?"
"Didn't work out."
He knew Ricky's tone was dangerous, but that little tidbit was far too much for his curiosity. Besides, Ricky owed him, in so many ways.
"Come ooon," he whined, "You can't just drop hints and then not tell me. I told you all about my dad and my family."
Ricky just stared at him for a long time. At first Alex thought he was trying to intimidate him into changing his mind, and he crossed his eyes and giggled. When there was no response, the gravity of the situation hit him, and he felt guilty. He waited, and when Ricky finally continued, the look on his face was awful; it was hard for him to look at. Alex took another drink, at a loss for anything to say or do.
"I was part of the Watchers once."
"I knew that, too."
"Shut up, no you didn't." He did though, the night he met him. Ricky was really bad at fooling him, when he seemed to make a living out of doing it to others. Ricky took another long drink, to prepare himself or to stall, Alex wasn't sure.
"I was Catholic, too. I wasn't saved or anything dramatic like that. My whole family had been, so I was, too. It wasn't really something I questioned or even thought about. Rosa still makes fun of me for it."
"She wasn't religious?"
"She's always been an atheist; 'God doesn't exist because he would never let a world like this exist,' she'd always say. It's something we could never agree on. For her sake I kind of hope he doesn't. I think she'd shoot him in the face."
Alex smiled at the thought of it. "I think she would, too."
"That's why I was drawn to the Watchers. They preached his words and hated the way the Rangers ran things as much as I did. They wanted - they still want - to remake the world in his name. Honestly, they're the best option out there. They're not nearly as savage as the Ravagers and they don't want power and control like the Rangers. For the most part, they really do want to make the world a better place."
"You sure sound like you still sympathize."
"I wasn't anyone special. I never even met Blanco. I wasn't cajun, either, so I couldn't understand half of them."
"Why didn't you just learn French?"
"It's just not something I'm good at. My mother only spoke Spanish to me, and I've known Rosa my entire life. Still, I'm only passable at Spanish.”
"What happened with the Watchers?"
"The Ravagers in the outlands are so different from yours. They're not smart or methodical. They kill what they want, when they want, for the reasons they want, or for none at all. They're nomadic and they live in tents. They paint themselves like they're proud of it, they wear the skins of animals because they are animals. They want everyone to die."
"I know all of this. I'm a Ravager, remember? Even if we work differently we're all still connected."
"You're not. Don't ever say that, and you better not think it, either."
Alex blushed. He wanted to tell Ricky how how much it meant to hear him say that. But this wasn't about him. "Anyway, you're changing the subject."
"I'm not. I just needed to preface that... my squad raided a camp. It's not that hard for the Watchers when they can actually find them, you know, since the Watchers have the upside of technology. Some of the clans won't even use guns." More alcohol. "We didn't let any of them survive. There was no reason to not at least take the children, let them grow up as one of us. But those were our orders. Some Christians, right?"
"I don't suppose you've ever read about the Spanish Inquisition, Ricky."
"I don't even want to know what that means. Anyway, when we had prepared the bodies, you know, shot in the heart, impaling the heads-" He paused at Alex's reaction to that sentence. Alex didn't need to be reminded how the Watchers "honored" their dead. Ricky looked down at his empty glass as if to accuse it of being the one lacking tact. "We realized that the clan leader and his council hadn't even been there."
"Did you find them?"
"No... I never did." Ricky suddenly looked sick.
"None of this explains how you broke up with Rosa."
"You should know better than anyone, Alex. They're dogs. Once they have your scent they don't stop, especially if you just killed their children."
"So they found you?"
"Sort of. They found Rosa and our son."
SO ALEX THAT'S WHY YOU NEED TO BLEND IN
GOSH
it's 3pm and i still had no idea what to write. i felt like snowflake was too obvious to write something about rinji and i remembered what one of ricky's lessons for alex was gonna be. the real scene will have to be changed especially since this is written in alex's pov but whatever.
"You ever read in your books that saying about snowflakes: everyone is an individual and shit?"
"There's this really good book," Alex's face lit up. "One of the characters says, 'You are not a beautiful and unique snowflake. You are the same decaying organic--'"
"Yes, exactly," Ricky interrupted. Alex hated being interrupted, but continued listening. "You can't be unique. You have blend in as much as possible, look like every other poor bastard in the outlands. No one should remember you or what you look like, and especially your name. You shouldn't wear that necklace."
Alex felt insulted as he looked down at the scorpion around his neck. "What about you? You have all those tattoos."
"A bad choice from when I was young and stupid. If I could get them removed, I would. Why do you think I wear long sleeves in this heat?"
"Okay," Alex agreed, but he still felt attacked. He didn't want to blend in with anyone. His father had tried to beat the pack mentality into him - literally and figuratively - all his life.
"I'm not saying you have to become boring and unremarkable. You just can't look it. Or act it when in the cities. You can't just go off on strangers about Caesar."
"He said he was Greek!" Alex protested. "He pronounced it wrong. And so did you." Alex attempted to hide the last bit behind taking a sip of his drink.
Ricky rubbed his eyes in emphasized frustration before continuing. "People are gonna remember the kid talking like a history buff with a scorpion necklace. I think it's great that you're not ashamed of what you are. That's not my point. What if some Rangers are trying to track you down?"
"We never stay in one place for too long anyway."
"Look, I know the outlands seem so big to you right now, but it's a lot of nothing, and there aren't that many people; only a few in our line of work. Don't you think it pisses the Rangers off that we make money off the things they outlaw?"
Alex smiled inwardly at Ricky's use of 'our'. "I guess. I thought you said they rarely leave the safe zone?"
"Unless they have a reason. Word gets around to the wrong people you're selling gasoline, alcohol, guns? They'll find you."
"But that's not all you sell." Alex wasn't trying to argue, and he understood Ricky's point. He was taking his necklace off, but he couldn't stop himself from wanting to debate. "I watched you sell a deformed doll to an old lady."
"I like to call myself a mechanic, but I'm just a scavenger, a really shitty merchant. I scavenge cars because I know them, I know what's valuable and I know how to fix what's broken. But I sell whatever I can find. There are things that anyone will pay for; things everyone needs. To the right person - that doll might was priceless.”
Alex scrunched his nose. "It didn't even have a head."
"Imagine that old woman lost her family in the cataclysms. Her daughter was only four. She spends her life collecting dolls because every time she holds one, for just a minute, she can pretend that none of it ever happened. How many dolls do you think there are left in the world, Alex?"
"I don't know. There aren't any toy shops in San Angelo. They 'promote imagination'." He finger quoted and rolled his eyes.
"That means there aren't any toys in the outlands, except for what you can find from the old world. It's probably one of the only dolls left that isn't crudely sewn from ratty blankets."
"So we could sell dolls and the Rangers would leave us alone?"
"No, that doll was a piece of shit." He laughed at Alex's confused expression. "I'm just trying to make a point. Things are worth what people will pay for them. You can't judge a find by whether you would pay for it or not. You also can't judge them for what they are. A gold tooth won't sell because it's a tooth - it'll sell because it's made of gold.”
"How am I supposed to guess what kind of weird things people are going to buy?"
"You get to know them, preferably without them having any idea who you are. You're fond of quotes. Ever heard, 'quick to listen, slow to speak'?"
"Uh... isn't that from the bible?"
"Yes, it is.” Alex didn't miss the way he rubbed his wrist, right where he knew the cross was stained onto his skin. "People either gather in outposts or hide away from the world. Either way they spend their life chasing things, and most of them are more than willing to pay a little extra to not have to walk around the desert to find them. Material possessions are how they cope with the world being the way it is."
"I hate the way the world is."
"Do you? Why?"
"Don't you know anything about the way the world used to be?"
Ricky shrugged. "I was six when it happened. I don't remember much besides fear."
Alex wasn't buying it. He knew Ricky better than that. "You're one of the few people I've met outside the city who can read. Fluently, I mean, not just recognizing common words to get by, you know letters. Why don't you read more?"
"You're avoiding questions again."
"I just mean... books taught me all about the way things used to be. There used to be so much freedom and happiness. You could go where you wanted when you wanted to, for any reason or none at all. Now there are the Rangers, who, because they control all of the guns and the bombs, they get to fence off their land, enforce their own selfish rules, and kill anyone who doesn't like it."
"Not that I don't agree with part of your assessment," Ricky pointedly lowered his voice and leaned in, hoping Alex would understand that he had gotten a little too loud in his heated rant. "But the Rangers rule the city zone with fear and nothing else. They don't have the most guns; they don't even have the biggest guns. If they had bombs bigger than grenades - which they don't - they would be using them. You're smarter than most people, Alex, and I don't think you realize it - not because you doubt your intelligence, but because you overestimate everyone else's. The Rangers tell the population that they're the only thing standing between them and the big bad world outside of the zone, and they believe it without question. Most people will do anything to not have to face their fear of the unknown, and if that means living their lives like a caged animal... sadly, they're willing to do it, and fucking thank the Rangers for caging them."
"You sound like my father."
"The Ravagers downfall isn't their outlook. It's their method."
"Can't take the city by force?"
"That you can't fear people into supporting you when they're already controlled by it. Most Ravagers don't really believe in the cause anyway. Their leaders - your father - they do. They really want to change the world, for one reason or another. But the majority of them, the ones who actually do all the work? They just want to belong, or to be promised a steady diet." He shrugged. "Or to kill and rape and steal and get away with it. Takes all kinds."
"You sound like you're preaching from experience. You sympathize with the Watchers?"
"I sympathize with myself and Rosa." Ricky pointed his mug towards Alex. "And now you. I just want to be left alone. I'm one of the few people who don't want to change the world. I like it the way it is. The Rangers can herd their cattle inside of their gates if they want. We both got out - if anyone else truly wanted to it wouldn't be so hard for them. The Ravagers and the Watchers can kill themselves off trying to prove who is right. I just want to make money and play with my cars."
"That can't be all you want in the world."
"Aspirations are dangerous when they're ambitious. That's how the Ravagers and the Watchers were formed. The way I see it: there isn't much in the world for anyone; don't waste your time looking for it."
"That's really sad..." Alex felt for Ricky. It wasn't pity exactly, but he didn't want his friend to be so jaded.
"It's enlightening. You can enjoy the little things when you're not waiting for big ones that never happen."
"But don't you want... I don't know, a family?"
"I had a family once. It didn't work out."
"Oh my god! With Rosa? I knew she was your wife!"
"Yes, with Rosa. No, she's not my wife."
"Your girlfriend."
"It isn't like that anymore."
"What happened?"
"Didn't work out."
He knew Ricky's tone was dangerous, but that little tidbit was far too much for his curiosity. Besides, Ricky owed him, in so many ways.
"Come ooon," he whined, "You can't just drop hints and then not tell me. I told you all about my dad and my family."
Ricky just stared at him for a long time. At first Alex thought he was trying to intimidate him into changing his mind, and he crossed his eyes and giggled. When there was no response, the gravity of the situation hit him, and he felt guilty. He waited, and when Ricky finally continued, the look on his face was awful; it was hard for him to look at. Alex took another drink, at a loss for anything to say or do.
"I was part of the Watchers once."
"I knew that, too."
"Shut up, no you didn't." He did though, the night he met him. Ricky was really bad at fooling him, when he seemed to make a living out of doing it to others. Ricky took another long drink, to prepare himself or to stall, Alex wasn't sure.
"I was Catholic, too. I wasn't saved or anything dramatic like that. My whole family had been, so I was, too. It wasn't really something I questioned or even thought about. Rosa still makes fun of me for it."
"She wasn't religious?"
"She's always been an atheist; 'God doesn't exist because he would never let a world like this exist,' she'd always say. It's something we could never agree on. For her sake I kind of hope he doesn't. I think she'd shoot him in the face."
Alex smiled at the thought of it. "I think she would, too."
"That's why I was drawn to the Watchers. They preached his words and hated the way the Rangers ran things as much as I did. They wanted - they still want - to remake the world in his name. Honestly, they're the best option out there. They're not nearly as savage as the Ravagers and they don't want power and control like the Rangers. For the most part, they really do want to make the world a better place."
"You sure sound like you still sympathize."
"I wasn't anyone special. I never even met Blanco. I wasn't cajun, either, so I couldn't understand half of them."
"Why didn't you just learn French?"
"It's just not something I'm good at. My mother only spoke Spanish to me, and I've known Rosa my entire life. Still, I'm only passable at Spanish.”
"What happened with the Watchers?"
"The Ravagers in the outlands are so different from yours. They're not smart or methodical. They kill what they want, when they want, for the reasons they want, or for none at all. They're nomadic and they live in tents. They paint themselves like they're proud of it, they wear the skins of animals because they are animals. They want everyone to die."
"I know all of this. I'm a Ravager, remember? Even if we work differently we're all still connected."
"You're not. Don't ever say that, and you better not think it, either."
Alex blushed. He wanted to tell Ricky how how much it meant to hear him say that. But this wasn't about him. "Anyway, you're changing the subject."
"I'm not. I just needed to preface that... my squad raided a camp. It's not that hard for the Watchers when they can actually find them, you know, since the Watchers have the upside of technology. Some of the clans won't even use guns." More alcohol. "We didn't let any of them survive. There was no reason to not at least take the children, let them grow up as one of us. But those were our orders. Some Christians, right?"
"I don't suppose you've ever read about the Spanish Inquisition, Ricky."
"I don't even want to know what that means. Anyway, when we had prepared the bodies, you know, shot in the heart, impaling the heads-" He paused at Alex's reaction to that sentence. Alex didn't need to be reminded how the Watchers "honored" their dead. Ricky looked down at his empty glass as if to accuse it of being the one lacking tact. "We realized that the clan leader and his council hadn't even been there."
"Did you find them?"
"No... I never did." Ricky suddenly looked sick.
"None of this explains how you broke up with Rosa."
"You should know better than anyone, Alex. They're dogs. Once they have your scent they don't stop, especially if you just killed their children."
"So they found you?"
"Sort of. They found Rosa and our son."
SO ALEX THAT'S WHY YOU NEED TO BLEND IN
GOSH