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I have no desire to harm you, don't worry. And it's Noriko. Ashida Noriko. [ She waits patiently for the coughing to subside, and when he wobbles she reaches out a hand, ready to steady him or break his collapse if need be. He has a crutch, yes, but she doesn't know which way he'll fall and if it will be useful. ] Why don't you sit? There's no particular reason to stand just to talk.

As for the other... I come from a place where people do not merely look down on us. It's not just that we are considered to be less intelligent, less, physically capable, less than perfect, or even standard. We are thought less than worthy of living, of existing. There is no mistaking the aim of the people who do not like us: they want us all dead. They have tried to ensure that happens. For some of us, they have succeeded.

Death while trying to convince someone to change an opinion only results in death: your own, usually. I do not want to die.

[Like a little wild animal, Viktor won't so easily be touched by a somebody who's virtually a stranger]

[...sit...? Ahhhh. YES.]

Mhm. 'Make yourself indispensable to them, so that they won't kill you. And. Never. Talk back.' My parents tried to teach me so."

[Sigh.]

"But I talk back to topsiders, sometimes, still. Though I did make myself a little important. But not like that. I have other goals."

[Viktor sits down.]

[ Noriko shakes her head vehemently at that, drawing back her hand as she watches him sit, and kneels herself across from him, elegant and compact through she can pop back up to her feet as readily as anything. ] I will not beg to be allowed my existence. That is not a life.

I will not ask permission to take up my own space.

[scoffs, but fairly lightly, and then, utters] You were born in a large bed, weren't you, Miss? One surely covered with soft blankets?

But somebody who isn't has to either murder for one, or steal one, or sell one's body for one, or sell one's organs for one, or tinker and make some things, some new things, to get to buy one. That is the truth of the world, for this universe and for all other universes if any other exist, I am sure.

You had to sell something - no, you did not have to ask for permission, I have never asked for permission, only tried to give birth to as many fruits of my intellect as I could when I was a child and later a teenager for a time - as a teenager, I never stayed long with all the fruits of intellect's labour that I made, I always sold them - and my parents were always in awe, because I've never sold my body and I never will. So they called me independent, resolute, free, their beloved little scientist - and it made me proud. And they bought for me an Academy uniform. Topside Academy's uniform. When I first put it on and looked in a mirror, I momentarily became a god in my own eyes.

That, ehh, God thing - I can never share that fragment of thoughts with any Piltie - because even the best of the best of them would NOT understand. God? For some very basics? They wouldn't get it. They don't know they are gods. Well, no, not very good ones - they are, over half of them, petty, cruel, negligent, insoquential, stupid gods of idiocy, but-- they would not get it. Though sometimes, one can find some pearls among the topsiders, shockingly, or some emeralds. Heh.
[Viktor gives a small smile, that quickly falls, back to neutral expression.
He hasn't raised his voice here, not much any time, not once.
As if any voice raising was forbidden by some beautiful heavens above or acid stinking raging hells below. Or as if he was a calm man, always. Either or or both... who can tell...? hmmm?]

No, don't beg to exist. I can see you never had to miss. Glad to hear that. Truly, eh, glad, I don't wish my people's fate on anyone, miss, uhhh, trust in that, at least, I happen not to be a devil incarnate. Though some will beg to differ. Because they feel threatened by, uh, my brain.
[heh]

[cough. blood. into hand. Blood that he WON'T show her, as that would, in his put-together chiseled and cared for mind, put a dent in everything he's said to her. There would have to be a modicum of trust, first, for him to offer the sight of this blood freely without anybody forcing his hand]

[cough. cough. cough.]

Edited 2025-03-26 06:29 (UTC)

I was born to a family who professed to love me, yes. Until they didn't. And I have had to sell many things to survive, lest you think otherwise.

Do you need help? The coughing is getting worse.

Ah, I apologise. You are who you are and, not knowing you, I musn't I assume falsely.

... is it? No, not so much. This is a 'on a good day' version. And, hm, do you have a fear of blood? If so, I shall endavour to take my disease elsewhere.

[Viktor looks ready to walk or wobble away.]

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