OOC: This happens right before Claud leaves for Thyferra
There were expectations of men and women of his station, Claudias said, when asked where he was going. "Drop the flowery political talk for a second and answer me, Claud!" His brother had snapped at him on the landing pad. "We put on these little performances for procedure-- I won't hear you talking to me like you talk to those fat fucks in the assembly!" Andronikas Tannaras had commanded.
"Y-you wouldn't understand why I was going, even if I t-t-told you." The younger brother had answered. At that, his brother had scoffed. "Deus allbeing, you sound like my daughters now! What, are you going to see some concert for some band I don't like? Maybe you're about to join Junia on one of her little degenerate trysts to that club of hers?!" He'd angrily replied. "And y-you're throwing a t-tantrum over your g-grown brother, an ambassador, traveling offworld. If you have a p-problem with me doing my j-job, you ought to go ahead and replace me! Maybe J-Julias will have time between his rendezvous with his whores."
The venom with which Claudias had answered his brother had stunned him for a moment, but his face shriveled in anger when he finally got over himself. "YOU THINK THIS IS ABOUT YOUR JOB?!" The aristocrat roared, and for a moment, Claud saw their father's rage in his eyes, and heard him in his voice. "You're headed to a kriffing WARZONE, CLAUD! It'd be bad enough if it were smacked on some world those fucking sorcerers were busy killing each other over, but you're about to travel to a world infested with a bunch of filthy xeno bugs! What tha kriff does this have to do with your JOB?!" Andronikas shouted, confusion and concern bleeding through the anger and frustration.
"What, you think if you'd been on Ruusan you'd have been able to talk those things down? Don't tell me you think this was your fault-- and even if it were, there's nothing obligating you to travel to some refugee infested rimworld." The lord had added. Claudias' fingers gripped hard around his cane-- he hadn't felt guilt over what was happening, for he wasn't naive or self-centered enough to think he alone was responsible. "Maybe you think you'll fight those things? See how long you last, thwacking at one with your cane before it gores you to pieces. See how well that peashooter you haven't fired in what, five years does against one?"
No, Andronikas' words had cut as deep as they had for different reasons. Reasons buried deep, reasons that went back to both of their youths. In the days when Claudias was always under the shadow of his father, who scrutinized and insulted every mistake he made, every flaw he had-- from such things as spelling errors in his writing, to the way spit occasionally drooled from his mouth. It had been Andy who'd reassured him, every night, that these faults were not his own-- that in fact, they were hardly faults at all. "Dad always says we all have our place in the lord's design... he just doesn't realize you're as special and important as all of us are."
It hadn't been especially good advice, and it hadn't stopped him from internalizing his father's words-- but it had been a welcome reprieve, and it had helped to bandage old wounds-- wounds that Andronikas reopened with every word.
"Not my responsibility?" Claudias replied coolly, cocking an eyebrow before he walked down the gangway of the shuttle, back to his brother. He'd always been so much smaller, so much shorter, yet even as he looked up at him, his presence felt just as massive as his far more handsome and well-built older sibling. "I sup-pose that's been your mantra s-since you t-took father's position, hasn't it? That, and everyone else w-with more than two c-crowns between their fing-g-gers." Claudias charged.
"Y-you're not responsible for the p-poor and starving you g-govern over, you're n-not responsible f-for keeping them safe, you're n-not responsible for keeping them housed, or f-fed." The Brentaalan spat, with a venom that had been building over years spent in the assembly, pleading with his colleagues to do something to help their people, when they chose, over and over, to do nothing.
"Ofc-course, they all need to obey you, and they all n-need to p-pay taxes to you, and n-none of them can insult you, or imp-p-ply that you're anything less than perfect. M-meanwhile you g-get to spend your days either b-brooding or p-partying, while they spend theirs w-working themselves into early ashtrays, j-just so they can put enough processed g-garbage they c-call food on their tables and p-pay rent in the hovels and b-boxes they call homes."
"B-but you take it a step f-further, don't you, brother? You don't even t-take responsibility for your own children. Y-your oldest s-son spends all his n-nights drinking and wh-whoring, while one of y-your daughters is a h-hobbyless, f-friendless, melancholic maid, while the other s-spends her days c-c-confined to her room reading about the president." He went on, the blistering rant not even close to finished. It took all his restraint not to name Saura and the babe she'd spoken of.
"They c-call you high Archon, but you d-don't lead. The servants call you m-master, but you don't rule. You th-think being a l-lord means you get to sit around and do n-nothing and receive p-praises and gifts." Claudias finished, panting heavily.
"There were expectation-n-ns men and women in our positions-- ones p-people like you have seemed to have f-forgotten." Claudias added, turning on his heels, walking up the gangway. "One of them b-being to protect the innocent-- another, to p-protect those you would call family." He went on.
"I m-might not have your strength, I might not be able to s-speak without stammering over every oth-ther word, but I at least have a spine." The Brentaalan declared, the shuttle doors closing behind him.
There were expectations of men and women of his station, Claudias said, when asked where he was going. "Drop the flowery political talk for a second and answer me, Claud!" His brother had snapped at him on the landing pad. "We put on these little performances for procedure-- I won't hear you talking to me like you talk to those fat fucks in the assembly!" Andronikas Tannaras had commanded.
"Y-you wouldn't understand why I was going, even if I t-t-told you." The younger brother had answered. At that, his brother had scoffed. "Deus allbeing, you sound like my daughters now! What, are you going to see some concert for some band I don't like? Maybe you're about to join Junia on one of her little degenerate trysts to that club of hers?!" He'd angrily replied. "And y-you're throwing a t-tantrum over your g-grown brother, an ambassador, traveling offworld. If you have a p-problem with me doing my j-job, you ought to go ahead and replace me! Maybe J-Julias will have time between his rendezvous with his whores."
The venom with which Claudias had answered his brother had stunned him for a moment, but his face shriveled in anger when he finally got over himself. "YOU THINK THIS IS ABOUT YOUR JOB?!" The aristocrat roared, and for a moment, Claud saw their father's rage in his eyes, and heard him in his voice. "You're headed to a kriffing WARZONE, CLAUD! It'd be bad enough if it were smacked on some world those fucking sorcerers were busy killing each other over, but you're about to travel to a world infested with a bunch of filthy xeno bugs! What tha kriff does this have to do with your JOB?!" Andronikas shouted, confusion and concern bleeding through the anger and frustration.
"What, you think if you'd been on Ruusan you'd have been able to talk those things down? Don't tell me you think this was your fault-- and even if it were, there's nothing obligating you to travel to some refugee infested rimworld." The lord had added. Claudias' fingers gripped hard around his cane-- he hadn't felt guilt over what was happening, for he wasn't naive or self-centered enough to think he alone was responsible. "Maybe you think you'll fight those things? See how long you last, thwacking at one with your cane before it gores you to pieces. See how well that peashooter you haven't fired in what, five years does against one?"
No, Andronikas' words had cut as deep as they had for different reasons. Reasons buried deep, reasons that went back to both of their youths. In the days when Claudias was always under the shadow of his father, who scrutinized and insulted every mistake he made, every flaw he had-- from such things as spelling errors in his writing, to the way spit occasionally drooled from his mouth. It had been Andy who'd reassured him, every night, that these faults were not his own-- that in fact, they were hardly faults at all. "Dad always says we all have our place in the lord's design... he just doesn't realize you're as special and important as all of us are."
It hadn't been especially good advice, and it hadn't stopped him from internalizing his father's words-- but it had been a welcome reprieve, and it had helped to bandage old wounds-- wounds that Andronikas reopened with every word.
"Not my responsibility?" Claudias replied coolly, cocking an eyebrow before he walked down the gangway of the shuttle, back to his brother. He'd always been so much smaller, so much shorter, yet even as he looked up at him, his presence felt just as massive as his far more handsome and well-built older sibling. "I sup-pose that's been your mantra s-since you t-took father's position, hasn't it? That, and everyone else w-with more than two c-crowns between their fing-g-gers." Claudias charged.
"Y-you're not responsible for the p-poor and starving you g-govern over, you're n-not responsible f-for keeping them safe, you're n-not responsible for keeping them housed, or f-fed." The Brentaalan spat, with a venom that had been building over years spent in the assembly, pleading with his colleagues to do something to help their people, when they chose, over and over, to do nothing.
"Ofc-course, they all need to obey you, and they all n-need to p-pay taxes to you, and n-none of them can insult you, or imp-p-ply that you're anything less than perfect. M-meanwhile you g-get to spend your days either b-brooding or p-partying, while they spend theirs w-working themselves into early ashtrays, j-just so they can put enough processed g-garbage they c-call food on their tables and p-pay rent in the hovels and b-boxes they call homes."
"B-but you take it a step f-further, don't you, brother? You don't even t-take responsibility for your own children. Y-your oldest s-son spends all his n-nights drinking and wh-whoring, while one of y-your daughters is a h-hobbyless, f-friendless, melancholic maid, while the other s-spends her days c-c-confined to her room reading about the president." He went on, the blistering rant not even close to finished. It took all his restraint not to name Saura and the babe she'd spoken of.
"They c-call you high Archon, but you d-don't lead. The servants call you m-master, but you don't rule. You th-think being a l-lord means you get to sit around and do n-nothing and receive p-praises and gifts." Claudias finished, panting heavily.
"There were expectation-n-ns men and women in our positions-- ones p-people like you have seemed to have f-forgotten." Claudias added, turning on his heels, walking up the gangway. "One of them b-being to protect the innocent-- another, to p-protect those you would call family." He went on.
"I m-might not have your strength, I might not be able to s-speak without stammering over every oth-ther word, but I at least have a spine." The Brentaalan declared, the shuttle doors closing behind him.