passive dormitories
dentis 17, 2708 - late evening
dentis 17, 2708 - late evening
But now, as they stared at him incredulously from across the room, his confidence faltered.
Neither boy had spoken to him all that much since he'd been placed in their dorm, both good friends with the other already and Lars suspected that was why they didn't see conversation with him as a necessity. He'd never minded it; he'd only been with them for about a year so far, and well, he'd never been very good at making conversation (or friends) himself, so he figured it was only normal not to speak. No, he didn't mind. He'd learned much in his six years of servitude, but the ways of the other gated passives still eluded him; even among servants, there were groups and standards and social rules, and he imagined he just didn't know all of them yet.
Jamie was the first to speak up. Lars had learned that this, too, was normal, and that the dark-haired boy was quite talkative when others were around. He was sitting at the edge of the bed farthest from Lars, nearest to the hearth, while Bennett sat at the end with his legs pulled up on the mattress, crossed beneath him. Lars felt vulnerable, or perhaps that wasn't the right word, but he felt open, or shy, or something similar as he sat by himself on his own bed, back against the wall, his knees pulled up to his chest. His hands were cold in the darker side of the room, arms wrapped tightly about his legs, chin resting on his knees.
"Wait - what did you say?" it sounded genuine, as if the boy really hadn't heard him. Had he really only whispered it? He supposed he didn't often raise his voice, and certainly could have neglected to do so now.
"I'm... pretty sure he told you to shut your head, Jamie."
"Oh, no - I didn't say that!" he heard it now, the quietness - it made his every word come out as little more than a murmur, as if the passive simply couldn't speak at a volume any louder. Was that what he always sounded like? Did it annoy everyone else as it seemed to annoy his roommates? Even as Jamie smiled, he knew it for its animosity, and he could feel the warmth blossom at the back of his neck and across the tops of his shoulders. He'd have pulled his knees closer in to his chest if only they weren't straining tight against him already.
They don't like me. That's why they haven't talked to me.
Of course they don't like you.
"What? Who just -"
"Calm down," whined Jamie, the servant's head falling back in exaggerated exasperation, "we're just joking with you, Lars. You know what a joke is, right?"
"I -" he blinked in some attempt to simply blink the strange voice away, as if that had ever worked with any other loud noises. Regardless of his methods, there was only silence, and his eyebrows drew together in confusion. That had just been... nothing. Or... his imagination. Not that he'd ever had much of one, but everyone had an imagination, right? His just chose to make itself known in odd circumstances.
"Uh, right. Yes, I know what a joke is," the blonde forced a small laugh, but it was enough to convince the other boys that the problem was solved. Clearly if he was getting along with them, then his request needn't be honored - and as always, Jamie and Bennett turned back to each other, and continued with their conversations and laughs and jokes. None of it made any sense to him, and he didn't make any attempts to understand, having been pushed from inclusion as soon as they'd thought him agreeable enough.
That was alright. It didn't bother him. Nothing ever did, and that was how things were meant to stay - there was no use in starting conflict with anyone other little things, even if he'd spent far too many days out of the year practically asleep on his feet because of their late-night chats. They were all condemned to the same fate, to the same university, to the same issues, and Lars had never felt it necessary to make things harder for anyone else.
He had always been peaceful, and quiet, and everything else a proper passive was meant to be. If he had his way, he always would be, and he'd remain unaffected by the actions and words of those around him. Lars couldn't be the perfect galdor, but he could be the perfect servant.
Oh gods, do you actually believe that? You seem like you believe it, and that's making me sad.
"What the clocking hell-" Lars scrambled against his mattress, pushing himself up on his elbows, eyes darting wildly about the darkness. His roommates had succumbed to sleep maybe half an hour ago, but he still hadn't found rest himself, and he knew that there was only maybe another house before he was meant to be on his way to the laundries.
Can you stop talking out loud?
"I - where are -"
You're going to wake them up, stop talking.
"Oh gods, are you - is this in my head?"
You really are as moony as they say you are, aren't you? Of course I'm in your fucking head, Lars, do you see me standing anywhere?
Not another word escaped his mouth, though it was left slightly open, the passive's eyes fixed on the door. If he'd been confused before, then he didn't even know what to call what he was feeling now. It was - it didn't make any sense. He was overtired, and exhausted, and he'd heard talk of the odd servant here and there going moony and -
Gods, stop it. You're so annoying.
What, he shook his head, eyes closing briefly as he considered just how strange it was, what is going on? What are you? Why are you in my head?
Thank you. Now we can finally have a productive conversation. And just to clarify -
I'm not in your head, Lars, you're in mine.
I've got a request, too.
It wasn't too early, but far too soon that he began to stir; if he'd gotten more than an hour or two of sleep he'd be surprised, but it mattered little now. He was meant to be getting up and going, and lying in bed contemplating the exact time he'd spent there didn't do him any good. Lars pushed the covers to the side, sitting up slowly so as not to see the room spin, and ran a hand through his hair to hopefully calm the short blonde locks. If his mattress wasn't quite so creaky, perhaps it wouldn't have awoken the passive in the bed closest to his - blue eyes flicked down to the head on the pillow as it moved, and watched as Bennett returned to the waking world. His roommate didn't make any move to get up yet, but he did offer a nod of greeting to the blonde as he got out of his own bed.
"Where're you heading this early?"
Lars glanced to the door, pulling on his button-up blue shirt in the meantime, and looked back to Bennett while his fingers fumbled with said buttons.
"He's just going to the laundries."
He didn't mention the fact that he did this every morning, or that Bennett had asked him that same question more than once (and more than twice), because it didn't matter. Because no conversation mattered, because nothing mattered, because none of it ever would.
The passive offered a half-wave as he crossed the room to the door, though his eyes looked only ahead. They seemed even then to sit slightly off-balance, slightly out of focus, slightly glazed over, as if he was looking through everything and everyone and not seeing anything at all.
