66

--Enclave--

‘Sav was always the stronger one between us, he was forced to lead a different kind of life, though… After all he did, all he went through to earn a place in our world,’ Bahena had told her in the game. ‘They all still shunned him...’

A shiver ran down Dassah’s spine as she half-listened to the garule professor speak about sutak tribes. She watched him, talking about a situation that must have caused him pain as if it were normal for him. He made eye contact with all his students and called them by name. He stood calm, and steady, and comfortable in front of them, making them laugh every now and again, smiling when he saw they were uncomfortable, controlling the general atmosphere.

This was not a man who was defeated by the struggle he was born into. This was a man who had embraced it and made it his own.

And yet, his own words echoed through her mind as well:

‘It is worse for you, in a way, that you do not know what you are doing wrong, than it is for me to be at the receiving end of your apparent kindness… If you are going to hate me, I’d rather it be for who I was, than what I am.’

Dassah snorted. Of all the people on the enclave, how had she ended up in the middle of garuli sibling drama?

“Wait, so, Professor,” a student asked, drawing Dassah’s attention back to the class. “You mentioned about the expulsion of the sutak and now the creation of these tribes, but what happened to you? Did you live with one of the tribes after you… changed?” There was a general commotion of agreement as to the interest in this question.

Sul gave a sly, crooked grin that reminded her more of Ibraxis than the white and purple garule that she had met on the monorail. “I’m a bit of a unique case,” he told them. “And my experience will not help you on the mid-term.”

“Professor!” a few students protested, but he shook his head.

“Come on, Uncle Sav,” Miss Grimnar went, drawing Dassah’s attention very closely to the earar girl. Why does ‘Grimnar’ sound familiar? She wondered. “Just tell us a little bit!”

The garule’s eyes narrowed as he looked at her. “I have warned you about exploiting my friendship with your uncle in my class, brat,” he said, folding his arms.

She stuck her tongue out. “I don’t care about him,” Miss Grimnar said, waving. “And you already said that this didn’t have to do with the test!”

“Right, so —”

“From the cultural and societal standpoint, what was your first-hand experience as a sutak growing up in, and outside of, a traditional clan?” the young earar woman asked pointedly, holding a finger in the air.

Sul clicked his tongue and nodded at her. “You know, for a girl who hates her uncle so much, you sure do resemble him,” he growled, then looked around the room and sighed as a expression of victory grew on her face. He looked at his watch and nodded. “Fine. Five minutes,” he clicked off the holomonitor with it’s slides, and the students in the room leaned in with anticipation. Dassah could guess that he hadn’t spoken much about his past — but she could understand just from this one lecture alone that they had been waiting to hear his story for a while.

“I was born and raised a female alongside my sister and two brothers,” he started, taking a deep breath. “During our coming-of-age trials, there was an… incident that triggered my change,” he paused. Dassah tilted her head as she saw his posture grow tighter. “I should have died then, realistically — for many reasons. But I didn’t. I did fail my trials, though. I went back to my mother and explained to her what had happened. I knew, to some degree, what had occured. I was old enough to know not only what the change had meant, but what the repercussions would be if the clan found out,” he explained. “So, I left. And that’s the end.”

“Uncle Sav!” the earar girl protested.

But Sul shook his head.

Silence fell on the room. Dassah’s heart went out to him, but her curiosity got the better of her. “... You just… left on your own?” she asked. His eyes rose to hers with a twitch of his tail. “What about Bahena and the others?”

A smirk played about his lips as the look on his face seemed to ask ‘You care?’. “It was a rather simple choice, if you were me and saw what I saw,” he shrugged. “My mother was — is — a great woman who loved us. Me. Even after my change, she kept and taught me and made sure that I would be able to handle myself. She told me when I met her later that she had every intention of just keeping me and just letting me continue to be ‘female’, if I wanted to be. I couldn’t be male, of course, because of my appearance. I’ve always wondered if she already knew that I was sutak; she always treated me a bit differently than she treated Bahena. Bahena was raised to be a Matriarch. I was raised to survive. My brothers would often point out the different standards in protest, but she would snap at them if they questioned it. I’m not sure she ever told my father, either, until I was older and stronger and could reasonably tell the clans to screw off.”

“Can you tell a sutak from birth?” a student asked.

“Sometimes,” he shrugged. “But it really depends on the individual, or if the family has a history of sutak births. I have theories about this that I am not about to share with you guys. If my siblings caught wind of some of them I’d be in big trouble.”

The class laughed again, and he waved them away. “And your five minutes are up,” he told them. “Next week we will learn more about the Era of Encounters. Please make sure to do the reading in your datapacks - there may or may not be a quiz at the start of class based on the material. Get out of here.” Waving them away, he turned and started shuffling papers that were strewn about his desk.

The students gathered their things and started chatting amongst themselves. Dassah fumbled with her hands, picking at the skin around her finger nails. It had been a lot to take in — and she felt more foolish than ever.

“How’s your hand,” Sathuren asked looking up at her from the row of seats in front of her. With the different levels, they were actually face to face for once.

“It’s… fine,” Dassah said, more in reaction to the whirl of feelings and thoughts than the mark on her hand. She rubbed it absently as she looked around at the chaos of the students leaving the amphitheater.

“Well that’s convincing,” he said, raising a brow at her.

“Uncle Sav!” the earar girl grabbed his arm and looked up at him endearingly. “Can I have the whole story later?”

“No,” he told her, pushing her forehead. “You don’t get anything from me until you stop giving Grim a hard time.”

As the girl pouted at him, Dassah went, “Ah! Grimnar! You’re Grim’s... niece?”

The earar girl scowled. “How do you know him?”

“Shen,” Sathuren warned. “Go to your next class. We’ll talk later.”

“But —”

“Shen.”

Shen heard the very final tone in the garule professor’s voice and sighed. Picking up her bag, she sulked down toward the trail.

Sathuren sighed and shook his head. “Sorry about her,” he said with agitation, running a hand over his head and watching after her as she went. “She’s… young. Very young.”

Dassah snorted. “Runaway teenager?”

“Something like that,” he grunted. “Anyway. That’s Grim’s problem. I’m glad you came,” Sav looked her over. “I honestly didn’t think you would. I guess I should re-evaluate my opinion of you.”

“Does that mean you won’t PK me in TheirWorld again?” she asked, leaning in a bit.

He blinked, then laughed. “I’ll think about it,” he told her. “You’re headed back to the other complex now?” Dassah nodded. He shifted nervously for a bit, then said, “Do you mind if I head there with you? I generally head over there for a class after I finish with this one…”

Dassah tilted her head, realizing that him having classes in that building was probably why they had met on the monorail in the first place. Dassah bit her lips, trying to hide her smile as she nodded.

“Okay,” he nodded himself with a smirk of his own. “Let me go get my bag and we’ll walk over?”

“Okay,” she agreed. His tail wriggled a bit behind him as he tapped on the back of the chair and turned.

If there was one thing she had to admit, it was just how silly she was. Not just for her ignorance, but for being afraid of the garuli anymore than she was afraid of any other person. She and Sathuren and Bahena may have been different, but only as different as she and Stella were from each other.

There was also the hope that she could be forgiven by them — and largely, a realization that they already had. Now she just needed to let herself accept it.