among her own kind

[she_sells_seashells]

Shell Bell finds Milliways once when she is eighteen. She has been there for two days now, setting up her sign ten minutes out of every waking hour, wiping down tables for her quarters in the staff area, eating buttery potatoes (she has been told that this is a complete nutrient package, for humans). Her wand is holding a bun of hair in place on the back of her head. Her shells are stashed safely in her room; she's budgeting carefully and she'll pay her tab when she leaves.

No one's talked to her due to the sign yet. They don't always. She sets it up anyway, like clockwork, so everyone gets the chance.

Comments

[she_sells_seashells]

"Okay. Unless you're bored and wanna switch places I'll make another excursion, then."

[sicaria]

"I am not bored."

[she_sells_seashells]

"Good," says Bell cheerily, and off she goes in search of someone else she hasn't talked to yet. Who's shown up in the past hour?

[pythbox]

Well, there's that girl sitting at the bar who's a little older than Bell, bears a passing resemblance to her actually, and has an impressive and incongruous war hammer hanging from a braided leather belt around her waist. The rest of her outfit is pure twenty-first-century Earth, but those two things look like they came out of a century rather earlier than that one.

[she_sells_seashells]

Shell Bell squints at her. She doesn't think this is an alternate, but maybe they're related or something - she's never met anyone who claimed to be related to one of her, either. No, probably this is just someone who happens to be pale and brunette. "Hi," she says, sitting next to her. "I'm Shell Bell. Panem, Earth, year 72 by our count, something else by everyone else's. Who're you?"

[pythbox]

"Darcy," she says, with a friendly smile. "New Mexico, Earth, 2011. What's up?"

[she_sells_seashells]

"Nice to meet you, Darcy! My life back home is actually pretty dull" (so far; and Bell doesn't like to bring up 'please give me stuff' this early) "so I just talk to everyone when I get here to compensate. Your hammer is nifty. Doesn't look like the sort you build houses with."

[pythbox]

"My hammer is the niftiest," she says, patting it fondly. "It's magic, and from space."

[she_sells_seashells]

"I like both magic and space! Tell me all about it," says Bell.

It looks like the sort of thing that is not mass-produced. Especially if being "from space" is a relevant property. But its details could suggest things about what else there might be to be had.

[pythbox]

"It flies and shoots lightning," Darcy says smugly. "And it has a cool name I totally can't pronounce, but it doesn't mind if I call it Mewtwo."

[she_sells_seashells]

This reference does not register at all with Shell Bell. "It flies around? By itself? It can mind things?"

[pythbox]

"Technically not by itself," she says. "But yeah, there's like... a very, very small number of people who can pick it up. And giving it a dumb nickname didn't take me off the list, so I think I'm good."

[she_sells_seashells]

"Do you let people try to pick it up if they ask nicely?" Bell asks.

[pythbox]

"All the time," she says, grinning. "But not off Bar, 'cause that would be mean."

[she_sells_seashells]

"Is it staggeringly heavy to everyone else, including Bar, or something?"

[pythbox]

"She says it's uncomfortable," Darcy says with a shrug. "And if I put it down on her and something happened to me, it'd be stuck there until another hero came along."

[she_sells_seashells]

"That's fair," says Bell. "Heroes? That's the criterion?"

[pythbox]

"Kiiiind of?" says Darcy. "To be totally honest, I'm still not sure exactly how it works. Like, there's plenty of heroes who can't pick it up. But if somebody can pick it up, they're definitely a hero."

[she_sells_seashells]

"So you... do heroing," Bell says.

Maybe they can just outsource the whole thing? Or parts of it?

"Lots of heroing?"

Ulterior motive is creeping into her voice now.

[pythbox]

"I'm kind of a trainee hero?" she says. "It's complicated. There was this huge fire-breathing robot, and my buddy's" (she pats the hammer) "old wielder couldn't lift it anymore, and I could, so I kicked the robot's ass, because what else do you do, right? But I'm not actually a trained warrior" (the word seems a little uncomfortable on her, like she can't figure out how it's supposed to fit) "or anything. So if something comes up that seriously needs a bolt of lightning to the ass, I'll get it done, but I'm not gonna go looking for trouble until I'm sure I can handle it. You know?"

[she_sells_seashells]

"Oh," says Bell. "You're sure about that? I... live in a pretty shitty world."

[pythbox]

Darcy looks warily intrigued.

"...What kind of shitty are we talking, here?"

[she_sells_seashells]

"The part that gets most people's attention is the fact that, annually, two dozen disadvantaged teenagers are forced into an arena with some combination of environmental hazards, genetically engineered animals, and other variously lethal props to fight to the death on national television," says Bell. "But more people - including more kids - tend to die of various other problems related to economic inequality and the side effects of totalitarianism. The only reason I look reasonably well-nourished is because I have been coming to Milliways since I was six and trading byproducts from the job I've been working since age eight for nonperishables to bring home with me. The only reason I didn't have to try my luck on the TV show is because my District has a system to train selected kids for the games and arranges for them to volunteer and spare whoever gets picked in the lottery."

[pythbox]

"Holy shit," says Darcy. Without her quite meaning to, her right hand drops to the hammer. She deliberately unwraps her fingers from the handle and flattens them against her leg.

"Okay, so that is really shitty," she says, "but I think it might be a little above my pay grade. I mean, there's all these epic poems where the lone hero goes up against the army of whatever-the-fuck, but in reality the lone hero had an army of his own and half of them died. I hate to say this, but I might have to give you a rain check at least until I graduate from lady warrior school and maybe until I can bring some friends."

[she_sells_seashells]

"I'm currently planning to overthrow it in a guerrilla warfare slash terrorism campaign with two people who won their Games and whatever magical or technological trinkets we can beg, borrow, barter, or buy here."