Edge Cases

Jerome sat next to Kestel.

He'd taken to visiting the head researcher of the dungeon team every few days, just to see if he was doing better. Ever since he'd learned about what happened to him at the dungeon — His own men turning against him the moment he hesitated to report back, wanting to first ensure the safety of his men...

Harold and the others had left, last he'd heard. They were worried about Kestel, too, but none of them were really aligned to anything related to healing and recovery. Like Derivan's team, they'd left to investigate something, and were hoping to acquire the crystals needed to heal Kestel while they were away.

They had their own problems, he understood. He noticed it out of the corners of his eyes, when they thought no one else was looking. The way they'd reach out to scratch an imaginary itch and then flinch. The way they'd fold their arms, and then wince slightly when the weight of it was different — when their bones didn't catch in quite the same way their arms once did.

"The Guild still keeps making me take those stupid classes," Jerome said to Kestel. The scientist, of course, didn't respond; he was either asleep or pretending to be asleep, but he still wasn't quite there. He wasn't even sure why he was talking to Kestel about his problems, but he continued anyway. He'd found a certain comfort in being able to speak to someone without judgement. "And now I keep noticing things I didn't notice before. It sucks. I wanna go back to not noticing."

Kestel still didn't respond, and Jerome took this as encouragement to continue. "You know what I would've done before? I would've just told them to suck it up. Or I would've said that being a skeleton is fuckin' cool, and I wish I could be a skeleton, and why don't they appreciate having status immunities and elemental immunities and not needing to sleep..."

"And you know, the more time I spend with people that aren't in my own fucking bubble, the more I realize this isn't just a fucking game?" Jerome looked down at Kestel, and he felt frustration burn in his voice for a moment. He'd had his moment with Kestel. He'd met the guy, back when he was negotiating for access to the dungeon himself, going behind the Guildmaster's back to do so.

He'd been kind of a dick to him then, too. He'd said something about how he'd find everything they needed in the dungeon, and they wouldn't need other delvers, and how trying to study a dungeon was stupid, anyway; they should just delve it for the loot and be done with it.

It was weird how different that version of himself felt, even though it had been only a few months ago. Spending more time with people had a way of doing that to you, maybe.

"I thought of this as just a game, because it looks like games back on Earth, and you people — fuck, not 'you people', just — the people that are here, whatever — you don't act like the people back on Earth. And I never thought to visit the fucking hospital, or look at any of the fucking orphanages back in Anderstahl, and I didn't even fucking talk to people except when I wanted something from them."

"And now I have, and it sucks! And a part of me wants to go back to that, because I didn't fucking feel like shit all the time back then, and that makes me feel even more like a piece of shit. And the worst part is that I know I'm taking all the wrong lessons from this. Everyone around me is so goddamn fucking understanding all the time, and I just want someone to be angry at me."

Maybe it wasn't fair to dump on Kestel like this. It wasn't like the lizardkin had any choice in the matter, but... it wasn't like he could hear him, either.

"Why?"

Nevermind. Kestel had woken up, at some point, and could hear him. The lizardkin was just staring at him with a placidly interested sort of look on his face, and somehow that made Jerome even more angry.

Not at Kestel. Just at himself. He'd never invested any effort into skills needed to heal, or else he might have been able to do something about this. Everything had gone exactly as he wanted. He'd gotten rich. He'd gotten rare skills. Granted, the 'rich' part hadn't gone exactly the way he'd envisioned — somehow he hadn't considered that gold might not be intrinsically valuable, when he'd pledged himself to the God of Gold — but he'd still gotten there eventually.

And the whole time, he'd still been pissed at everyone around him. He'd still wanted more. The few flashes of pleasure he ever got was from gain, whatever form that gain took, and that vanished in a matter of moments. Replaced by a desire for more still.

More strength, more wealth, more prestige.

Some of that, he was aware, came from the nature of the geas placed upon him — a feedback loop in his mind, telling him he was deserving of more. A feedback loop placed upon him in an effort to help him become more confident.

...So many things had gone wrong.

He didn't really want to go back. He hated being like this, and he spouted off about it sometimes, but he wouldn't go back. He couldn't. Knowing what he did now, going back would be a betrayal of all the progress he'd made—

"Why?" Kestel repeated again, and Jerome flinched slightly. He'd almost forgotten the lizardkin was there.

"...I don't know," Jerome answered after the moment it took him to even remember the context of the question. Why did he want someone to be angry at him? "I guess I feel like I deserve it."

"Why?" Kestel asked him again.

"I hurt a lot of people," Jerome said. "I didn't mean to, but I did. And it feels like I'm not getting punished for it, and I feel like I should be."

"Why?"

Jerome was beginning to sense a trend, here. But he answered anyway. "It's just how I've thought about things for a long time," he said quietly. "You do something bad, you get punished. Actions have consequences, and all that. You shouldn't be able to just get away with it."

"Why?"

It was like talking to a broken— no. Jerome stopped himself before the thought finished, almost snarling at himself before he saw the way Kestel began to flinch back. Don't dehumanize, he thought to himself, and then he managed a wry smile at the irony of the statement, which coaxed Kestel into relaxing again.

'Dehumanize' wasn't a very applicable word, here. But it was the closest one he had.

"We punish people so they don't repeat their actions, I guess," Jerome said. He'd never really thought this deeply on the matter before; he'd long since learned to stop asking 'why'.

Kestel seemed to consider this for a long moment. Jerome almost thought the lizardkin had fallen back asleep, but then he spoke again, his voice contemplative. "Are you going to?"

"Am I going to what?" Jerome blinked a few times. "Like... repeat my actions? No. Heck no. I— Oh. I see your point."

Kestel cocked his head slightly; Jerome wasn't even sure if that was the point Kestel was trying to make, or if he was just asking questions. He had been getting better, or so the priests said, but there was no change in his status; he still had difficulty moving and speaking...

But that wasn't fair, he thought. Difficulty with those things didn't make Kestel any lesser. Taking longer to express his thoughts might be frustrating for him, and sad for the people that knew him, but it didn't make him not a person. He couldn't just assume Kestel was a child and asking questions for the sake of it.

Kestel just stared at him. "If I'm not going to repeat what I do anyway, then there's no purpose to the punishment, is that what you're saying?" Jerome asked, and Kestel nodded slightly at him. Jerome sighed.

"I guess that makes sense," he said, though he said it reluctantly. "I dunno. It doesn't feel right. I still feel like people should get punished."

"Why—" Kestel started, and Jerome held up a hand.

"No, I get it," he said, and to Jerome's surprise, Kestel managed a small grin at him. Maybe he was getting better. "I get what you're saying, and it makes sense. It just doesn't change how I feel about it. I want to come up with other reasons that it matters — like, if we punish people, it's going to deter other people from doing the same thing, right? Not everyone is going to be convinced by words."

"But no one's going to be repeating what I did." Jerome looked down and away for a moment. "And fuck, I'm sure there's other ways to deter people. I dunno. I've never really thought about it. Do we even want to deter people? Maybe deterring people isn't the best way to get people to not do things! There's too much stuff to think about." He threw his hands up in frustration. "I feel like this is for people smarter than me to think about."

Kestel took a moment to reply again, and Jerome just waited. "You're... thinking about it," he said eventually. "That is... more than most."

"Yeah, I guess," Jerome grumbled. "I don't like thinking about it. I'd like to go back to not thinking about it. I want a refund and to get off this thought train."

Another beat, and then Kestel chuckled. "Sorry," the lizardkin told him. "No... no refunds."

"Bah!" Jerome said.

But he found he was smiling.

They talked for a few more minutes before Kestel got too tired and had to go back to sleep — but before he did, he made Jerome promise to visit again. He liked having a young mind to guide, he said, and even though part of Jerome hated being called a 'young mind', much less the implication that he needed guidance, he'd agreed. He'd genuinely enjoyed spending time with the guy, after all.

He wasn't a 'young mind', though. That was patently ridiculous. Kestel couldn't have been, what, more than six years older than him? Maybe eight?

Bah.

Jerome got up from his seat and spared one more glance before he left the lizardkin's 'ward' — it was still just a set of curtains in the temple, although the curtains had been magically augmented and enchanted to give Kestel privacy and comfort. It was a service the other Elyran researchers had provided to all the wards once it became clear that the temple wasn't really equipped to hold anyone long-term, and it was something the priests all appreciated.

"All done?" Typhea asked him, and Jerome jumped.

"God," he said. "Don't scare me like that."

He wasn't sure how to feel about his elf companions, now. They were still the only elves he'd seen here — elves were more common around Anderstahl than they were here, apparently, though that didn't explain the complete lack of them — and he wasn't sure if they were actually comfortable here?

There was a lot of things he was questioning now that he hadn't questioned before. Like why they kept following him around after he had rescued them. At the time, he'd thought it made sense, but...

"My apologies," Typhea said, bowing her head slightly.

"Don't do that, either," Jerome said, feeling slightly uncomfortable. "Were you waiting on me for something?"

"No," Typhea said. "I was waiting in case I was needed."

"...Don't take this the wrong way, but don't you have your own things to do?" Jerome asked. "Jaila too, wherever she is."

"She is resting," Typhea said. "It is my shift."

Jerome felt a headache coming on. "You've been keeping shifts this entire time and I haven't noticed?"

"Do not take this the wrong way," Typhea said, this time with a faint smirk gracing her lips. "But you are not very observant."

"Please tell me this isn't a stupid life debt thing."

"Were that an actual part of our culture, we would be offended," Typhea informed him. "But it is not. You simply needed our protection, so we adopted you."

"I what?" Jerome asked blankly. "How have we never talked about this— Nevermind. I know the answer to that question. More importantly, what?"

"You attempted to save us and were poisoned in the process," Typhea explained to him. "Elven couples have a tradition. We will care for a person, if we choose to, and the person accepts. It is like parenting."

"You guys are a couple?" Jerome said blankly, and then the rest of his brain caught up. "Wait, did you guys adopt me? I feel like I should get some choice in that! I'm an adult!"

"Yes, you are," Typhea said to him, very patiently, like an adult would to a child. "And we did. You accepted. We explained it more than once, in fact, though I am unsure you listened..."

Jerome buried his face in his hands. "Oh my god."

"We can leave, if you wish," Typhea told him.

"No, I just... okay, please explain it to me again. I'm sorry I didn't pay attention the first time, I was a fucking idiot."

"I will look for Jaila, and we will explain it together. For the... twelfth time."

"Somehow the fact that you've been keeping track of that both doesn't surprise me and deeply horrifies me."