"That is an excellent question," she says, rocking back and flashing a brighter grin.
"The short answer is, not all of us do. The long answer would take a few millennia to show you. The in-between answer is that a little while after we discovered we weren't the only real people in existence, we realized each of us had unique advantages when facing off against the other powers. It's safest for the family if we keep each other around."
She bites her lip, then glances down. "But there are seventeen of us now when there should be twenty-one. And the odds suggest another one or two of us might die before the round is over, if we're not as hopeful, lucky, balanced, or traditional as it's possible for us to be. So we hope, and we balance, and we follow traditions - all in the name of enlightened self-interest."
He'll deal with the possible existential crisis of real versus fake people later.
"Wow, how thad for you," he drawled scathingly, while trying to keep his blood pusher from racing. "Who'th motht likely to die? Back home, we cull the weak. I'm not in a pothition to do any culling, but I take cultural interetht."
He'd never been in a position to cull. Kill in defense, yes, but even after he'd escaped slavery, he'd chosen to follow ideals that eschewed culling.
"Yeah, that one I'm taking a pass on, sport," she replies, shaking her head. "Even if I wanted to answer - and I don't - answering a question like that is against the rules, and I'm already on notice for a super slick piece of cheating earlier."
He tried not to show his disappointment too much. Guess he'd have to find out who was most and least likely to kick his ass in a fight the hard way....
"Shame on you." For getting caught, anyway. "What'd you do?"
He noted she seemed more forthcoming when her feats of intelligence were involved, or when he showed some of his. However, he was used to hiding his extraordinary abilities, partly because he might be hunted for them, and partly because of self-depreciation.
He looked at her warily. "What doeth that do? Delay whatever game you're playing? Or—" he frowned, thinking, "were you thtealing other Arcana'th property?"
The word "property" was bitter on his tongue, and a bit more fang showed for it.
"I had a goal no-one else was willing to stick their necks out for," she explained. "Usually we need concensus to go somewhere. I exploited a technicality."
She pouts a little. "They've closed that one since."
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"The short answer is, not all of us do. The long answer would take a few millennia to show you. The in-between answer is that a little while after we discovered we weren't the only real people in existence, we realized each of us had unique advantages when facing off against the other powers. It's safest for the family if we keep each other around."
She bites her lip, then glances down. "But there are seventeen of us now when there should be twenty-one. And the odds suggest another one or two of us might die before the round is over, if we're not as hopeful, lucky, balanced, or traditional as it's possible for us to be. So we hope, and we balance, and we follow traditions - all in the name of enlightened self-interest."
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"Wow, how thad for you," he drawled scathingly, while trying to keep his blood pusher from racing. "Who'th motht likely to die? Back home, we cull the weak. I'm not in a pothition to do any culling, but I take cultural interetht."
He'd never been in a position to cull. Kill in defense, yes, but even after he'd escaped slavery, he'd chosen to follow ideals that eschewed culling.
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"Shame on you." For getting caught, anyway. "What'd you do?"
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He looked at her warily. "What doeth that do? Delay whatever game you're playing? Or—" he frowned, thinking, "were you thtealing other Arcana'th property?"
The word "property" was bitter on his tongue, and a bit more fang showed for it.
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She pouts a little. "They've closed that one since."
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