[As monsters do, Calathea's precious babies - and Bass's ascendants - are all out to get each other as much as everyone else.
(But she isn't a monster, not the kind he knows. There's no extra voice screaming inside her head because the insides were eaten and the mind trapped in its own body, infected with black oil and an insatiable hunger.)
Still - it wouldn't be the first time hybrid siblings tried to emulate their inhuman parents.]
Oh, that's really strange.
[A small emphasis on the adverb, eyes narrowed and lips only slightly quirked.]
[ Not a monster, no, not really. Not in any technical sense, at least. But perhaps it's not dissimilar in any case: children trying to emulate the ways of inhuman parents. In a world where a pound of flesh is quite literally a pound and quite literally flesh, the Saints have given new meaning to 'consolidating power' within the family (if she ever fell, Philomela wouldn't be the first sibling to be eaten).
[ She's never really thought about it before. Brothers are strange because Philomela has plenty, but there are no sisters, only her. In a way, that makes her strange, too.
[He's eaten at least one hybrid, either accidentally (there is little discrimination to be made when hunger hits you) or because they attacked him first. They're bound to be his family, there isn't really any way around it, but it's not something he really thinks about.]
[ She straightens, her eyes (up until this point girlish and bemused) suddenly finding a sharpness — not quite animal but not quite innocent. A presence that comes with declaring her own name (it's a source of shame and strength in her world; you do not fuck with a Saint or they'll buy up your debt just so that they can eat you). ]
Philomela. [ The highest houses have rules as to what they can name their children. She doesn't need to say 'Saint'. Theirs is the only family allowed a Philomela. (They cut out of her tongue and cut off her hands. Mother thought she was being clever; she thought I'd never survive.) ]
Philomela. [He nods for briefly, brows pinched at the mention of the mother in the girl's thoughts. It keeps him quiet for a while longer, wondering - otherwise the name doesn't produce any signs of recognition in his eyes.] I'm Bass.
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Which part?
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All parts.
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(But she isn't a monster, not the kind he knows. There's no extra voice screaming inside her head because the insides were eaten and the mind trapped in its own body, infected with black oil and an insatiable hunger.)
Still - it wouldn't be the first time hybrid siblings tried to emulate their inhuman parents.]
Oh, that's really strange.
[A small emphasis on the adverb, eyes narrowed and lips only slightly quirked.]
So what would you change?
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She smiles, genuinely amused. ]
I'd make them like me better.
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Do they think you're strange?
[There's no weight in his tone and no second intentions added to a raspy voice. Just curiosity.]
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She shrugs. ] I guess so. We don't talk a lot.
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[But what do you know, Bass...]
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Talking just makes some people stranger.
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Losing interest is a bad idea. Getting used to it— [ She shrugs. The jury's still out on that option. (She likes the third option better.) ]
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What's the third option?
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You make them go away.
[ (And eat them.) ]
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Your name.
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Philomela. [ The highest houses have rules as to what they can name their children. She doesn't need to say 'Saint'. Theirs is the only family allowed a Philomela. (They cut out of her tongue and cut off her hands. Mother thought she was being clever; she thought I'd never survive.) ]
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