Exchanges

[Thomas]

In the first game, Thomas didn't really have to try very hard. He paid attention, sure; Zilrud was a novice but not a fool. A smart beginner could be a devious opponent and Thomas was aware that when it came to games of strategy, he was no master.

This round was going better. Zilrud had been learning, watching how he moved, how to mount a defense, learning to avoid obvious traps and how to guard his position. He surprised Thomas a few times, made him puzzle over his moves once or twice. He found himself staring at the board sometimes, unsure of the best move forward.

"I knew you were clever," Thomas said, leaning his head on the orkhai's shoulder. "I knew you'd pick this up like it was nothing."

That thought made him proud even if the rapid rate of improvement meant that his briefly-enjoyed status as the superior player would be more fleeting than he'd projected. He didn't mind, though. Losing could be as fun as winning, as long as the winner was gracious and the game flowed easily. Really, this was all in the service of getting to know one another and passing the time.

"Promise me that when you become a checkers champion you won't forget your humble teacher," he added, clearly kidding.

Still, with all the improvement Zilrud had made, Thomas was still ahead. It was just less of a rout this time. Zilrud had picked up on the strategy of leaving his last row in reserve to prevent Thomas from kinging himself in the early game, though, which prevented him from tearing through the board as he had in the first round. He made his move, and then decided to risk asking Zilrud a question about his past.

"When you were young, growing up in Rokhan. Did you go to school? Was there school, or did you learn about the world some other way?"

[Zilrud]

Zilrud had been trying to put as much of what he was experiencing with the gameplay to memory, or at least the motions of it. What it meant to have a piece becoming a King or different routes one could take to try and get a piece to the other side of the board. He had also learned the basics of leaving a line of defense in his wake if he could afford it. Luckily enough for the Orkhai, it had worked for the time being. The question that had been asked, though, had caught him off guard, and it took him a moment to contemplate his move and the answer he would give his human counterpart. Placing the piece back down, he thought twice about the movement he was about to move and tilted his head to glance down toward Thomas. "Where I grew up, Orkhai only learned one thing from the moment they could stand: how to fight and kill."

Lifting the piece he would move before, he placed the checker back down in a new spot and grunted as he thought about giving up more. "When I was learning to fight, I learned about the world of man, or at least what the old Orkhai thought of man. Man was only good for one thing when I was young, and that was for food." The hand that had been in and out of Thomas' hair lifted from its resting point and slid to the back of his own head, where he gave it a scratch. "I learned about the world as it was meant for those of Rokhan to learn. But my mentor, when it came to Divide, helped me learn more about the world and how everything is interconnected. Not only were humans good for meat, but they also traded with us or were slaves. But Orkhai usually wants to fight one another, especially if they are from outside of a family or clan. Non-Orkhai who entered Rokhan's borders without anything to trade or sell were either killed, eaten, or..." He shrugged his shoulder and looked over to Thomas with a smirk. "Or fucked since anything, not an Orkhai, would be exotic." Sometimes Orkhai would take sexual gratification as a trade-off, which meant many non-Orkhai survived if they gave in to the lustier Orkhai. Gods help those wanting to enjoy an Orkhai, which led to a different path.

Clearing his throat, he looked back to the board. "I learned more about culture outside of Rokhan here, in Lorien." Not everyone that came across his path during his servitude was terrible. Still, they definitely were overshadowed by the sheer amount of terribleness that would be done to someone with fewer rights than even a dirty street rat who could at least prove they were of Lorien's people. "Fighting, Divide, and... Physical things are what I was taught." He paused and looked over the top of Thomas' head. "...One thing I learned in Lorien was how to read and speak the language. Even if it is cruel, the world has a lot to teach, as long as you know where to look." Offering a tusk-filled smirk, he patted Thomas' head and ruffled his hair. "What of you, Little One? What kind of school did you learn from?"

[Thomas]

Thomas was darkly fascinated by the stark, brutal picture of his young life that Zilrud painted. Rokhan, or at least his clan within it, seemed like a chaotic place. Thomas knew, though, that for all of its violence, it was also home to many brave and noble people. For one thing, he was seated next to a shining example. For another, if they were truly a nation of lawless rabble rousers, they would have been routed by Grisic, but they hadn't been. They were more clever and more cooperative than Zilrud was letting on.

This led him to contemplate his opponent's defensive strategy. Was there a deadly trap lying in wait among the pieces? He didn't think so, but he wasn't sure, so he endeavored to play a bit more cautiously for the next few moves until he got a sense of Zilrud's grasp of the strategy during round two.

"I went to school, yes. It was required by law, actually, and since I grew up in an orphanage funded by the state, the orphanage didn't get their money if we didn't show up, so Miss Hannegan -- that was the head of the orphanage -- forced us to go to school every day and told us that if we didn't we were stealing bread out of our own mouths. Then someone would mutter something about how we were never given bread and she'd smack them with whatever she had in her hand at the time."

"The idea was to educate us and make us fit for employment for the betterment of the Empire. In reality, most of the people I grew up with became domestic servants or longshoremen or factory workers. I suppose having an educated underclass can be helpful, though. It's nice to have a cook who can do sums or a longshoremen who can read a manifest. It means that the wealthy can focus on their true passion of doing fuck all." Thomas stopped, embarrassed.

The intimacy of the conversation, the anonymity of being close to someone he cared for but not facing them, and the distraction of the game was proving an able lubricant. If they were having tea at home, he never would have said that.

He shook his head.

"I feel ridiculous trying to complain to you about my childhood. Yours sounds quite stark and brutal. If you'll permit me to do so for just a moment, though, I will say: from the earliest times that I can remember, I was alone. Not everyone in the orphanage was alone. Some people made bonds, people that became like brothers or cousins or dear friends. I didn't, though, not until I was much older, and only with one other boy. Then, he, ah."

"He wanted more than our station would provide for us," Thomas said at last. He wasn't sure he was up to explaining trade unions to Zilrud, not at this juncture. "He tried to foment a bit of a rebellion to get it. I helped him do it, because I loved him, and I believed we could do it if we worked together. And it got him killed."

"It was a valuable lesson, I think, in staying where you're put, and not making too much noise. In not wanting too much."

He captured two of Zilrud's pieces in a double jump.

"It's why I think I have such an affinity for strength, both physical and mental. It's hard for me to be brave. People like you remind me that I should try."

[Zilrud]

He did not say it often, but Zilrud enjoyed hearing about the differences between how he as an Orkhai grew up or experienced something and hearing how Thomas, an orphaned human experienced the same idea, just in a different fashion. As his counterpart explained the concept of schooling and why the orphans were all pushed toward it, Zilrud was contemplating his next move. Jumping to one of Thomas's pieces, taking it, he paused for a moment when Thomas broke his typical 'character' and not only swore but meant it as part of the conversation. The Orkhai's hand paused, and the green male arched a brow and looked to Thomas, who seemed to realize what he had just done. It was honestly rather adorable or so thought Zilrud, that not only was Thomas trying to remedy his expletive, but then he went on to say how it was ridiculous to compare both of their upbringings.

The larger of the two allowed the other to finish speaking before his hand slid up and gripped into Thomas' hair, tightening his grip on the quite soft brown hair and flexing his bicep and forearm. Pulling back and turning his clenched fist in Thomas's hair, he pulled the other's head back and turned it so, even though it was gripped, his head was pulled against the bulk of Zilrud's' arm and forced to look up into his red eyes as he looked down toward Thomas. "Don't do that. Don't compare our childhoods. To compare them is to think the other one was less meaningful." As his words came to an end, there was a rumbling growl deep in his throat.

"I am sorry about your friend. And you are not alone, not anymore. I will not let you be." Leaning in, there was a slight brushing of his lips against Thomas' before his hand released the other's hair, and he looked down, realizing two of his pieces had been taken; his eyes twitched here and there as he looked to his line of defense and moved a single piece out to stand alone.

"You owe it to nobody to be brave. You are brave in your own way and will be brave when your own code of honor demands it. Kind of like now. You said people think it silly you think these helpers." Zilrud did not wholly understand the Hollows, but he knew Thomas cared for them to a degree. "You are standing up for thi-... Those who can not stand up for themselves." Zilrud even went as far as correcting himself by referring to them as 'things.'

"You are a good person, Little One. And patient."

After a couple more moves, Zilrud would capture a couple more pieces, which was better than he had done the game before, but he was still unsure if he would win, but he was going to give it his best attempt.

[Thomas]

Zilrud surprised him, again and again, both on the board and in general. He had been paying attention in round one, sure, and he was intelligent. Thomas had considered both of those things as givens.

What surprised him, though, was to watch Zilrud experiment with tactics and stratagems that Thomas himself had not shown him. Checkers was a reasonably simple game, but it made Thomas wonder how well Zilrud would do with chess. There was more to learn, and it was fiddlier. Perhaps he'd get irritated by the regimented nature of what each piece could do, or the speed of the game. Perhaps he'd take well to it, though. Thomas had taken Zilrud for a warrior, a skilled one, but a warrior. Now he was wondering if Zilrud had been on track to be more of a warlord before he'd been taken from his native land.

The rest was just, well. It was nice. Thomas' eyes prickled briefly, but he years of practice kept that particular display of emotion at bay. He was not about to make things awkward by crying.

"It's nice to be understood," is all he said in response. "And rarer than you'd perhaps imagine."

He made his move and sized up the board. He was in a better position, but Zilrud could come back from it. He wondered if Zilrud would agree on that assessment or if the orkhai thought he was just playing through to the end. The next few moves would be critical in securing a win or loss. Maybe tipping his hand in that way would make this a bit more fun.

"If you win, what are we doing next?"

[Zilrud]

Zilrud may have seemed like someone who was straightforward and did not have many things up his proverbial sleeve. However simple he may have seemed to many, there was definitely something beneath the surface when it came to the Orkhai. Nothing else really needed to be said about Thomas and his childhood, and the reaction, or, stifled or not, was enough for Zilrud to know that Thomas had listened to him, and that was enough for the older Ork. The words were enough to help Zilrud realize he had been aiming in the right direction with some of his words. He did not need to say anything, so instead, the same hand that had balled a handful of Thomas' hair gently patted fingers against the other's head as his other hand moved another piece. Having moved another piece out, he looked over to Thomas as he already had an answer waiting.

"Eat. I'm hungry."

Zilrud was hungry; he had been thinking of the food that Thomas had said they brought along to hold them over during the trip. He thought Thomas could use a break from educating and entertaining the sizeable green man. "And if you win?" Asking the question, Zilrud's red eyes slid back over the gameboard, taking in the various squares and looking at the pieces that had been removed from play and then at those that remained. It was an exciting game, chess. He was better at fighting, but this was something that could at least pass the time and help him focus his mind. "Did you bring any of those sweet things you have with your tea?" He asked this mainly because tea had been one of his favorite times. Thomas stopped doing whatever Lordly work he had to do, and they would sometimes have tea together when Wendall was not around.

More particularly, Thomas had tea and relaxed while Zilrud ate sweet things and grunted questionable noises after every other bite, crumbs, or no crumbs to adorn his lips. It wasn't blood-dripping meat, but he had found that the little sweet things and not-so-sweet things had been something he'd come to enjoy. Tea, he did not care much for. He would much have rather had a bottle of ale or some other Orkish alcohol someone would probably be akin to some fermented fluid. Tea was just a little too refined for his Orkhai tastebuds.

[Thomas]

Thomas' lips quirked.

"Oh, if I win, we'll play again. And we'll keep playing until you win or I tire of checkers, and I'm rather fond of checkers, so that could take some time." He said archly.

Clearly, he did not mean it. If Zilrud wanted to stop, he need only say the word. Thomas was not in the business of actually forcing Zilrud to do anything. Cajoling him, sure. Convincing him, perhaps, but actual twisting of those powerful Orkhai wrists? He wouldn't dream of it.

He was fairly certain he was poised to win for the second time, but this had been an actual bout. The first one had just been a practice match while Zilrud mastered the basics. Perhaps that bore repeating aloud.

"This is our first real match, and even then, it barely counts. I learned this game when I was a child, and you learned it today. It's not a fair match up, although I suppose few match ups in life are."

He trailed off for a bit, unsure of what exactly he wanted to say. Getting off the topics of the past seemed good. He had no business thinking this much about his own, and he doubted that Zilrud enjoyed strolling down memory lane, either. Still, thoughts of his childhood and adolescence must have colored the path his thoughts were walking on nevertheless, because he surprised himself with his next question:

"Do you think much of fairness? Or, I suppose I tip my hand by phrasing the question this way. What do you think of fairness, as a concept?" He paused. "I suppose that's rather vague. What I mean is: do you think life is fair, or that it should be? Is fairness something that really exists in the world? Should we be striving for it?"

He was a bit embarrassed that he'd said it in such a plainspoken way, but now that the question had been posed, he was curious to hear Zilrud's answer. Brown eyes met red in a glance askance.

[Zilrud]

Zilrud’s first thought was the next game of checkers. He was certain that Thomas was going to win the particular game that they were playing. His gaze was wandering over the pieces to see if there was any salvaging, or at least how much damage Zilrud could inflict on Thomas’ pieces. As he was formulating his plan, his brow rose as he looked to the other, thinking about the generational gap between their times of learning about checkers.

“A match is a match. Do not diminish your win.”

As their turns continued, he would take a few moments to attempt to see if there was some form of salvaging the match, but it seemed that Zilrud was going to be the one to lose the match, but at least he took a few pieces of Thomas’ in the process. Just as he was contemplating a move, he paused his movement when the questions were posed to him.

Thomas seemed to have a penchant for asking questions at the most opportune or inopportune times depending on the vantage point. And although many might seem perturbed at the topic of the question or the timing of the questions, Zilrud often found himself intrigued with the type of questions that Thomas tended to ask.

Though… What did Zilrud think of fairness?

“If you had asked me that question when I was your age, I would have said fairness is for the weak. The strong work to having the advantage, and the weak get what they get.”

Picking up a piece, he lifted it, turning the piece over between his fingers, flipping it this way or that between his fingers before he made a move.

“Fairness is a point of view that I did not learn more of until I was in Lorien. Life is not fair.”

He paused for a moment and contemplated his next actions. Looking across the carriage’s inside, the Orkhai took in a large breath, letting it out through his nose. With the muscular arm draped around Thomas’s shoulders, he reached down and took up Thomas’ hand into his own, thinking how to expand upon what he had said, the pad of his thumb tracing over the veins seen in the back of Thomas’ hand.

“I do not believe in fairness and how you put it. I believe in honor. In battle, there is honor in how you fight and how you treat your opponent. One side will win, one side will lose. An honorable warrior will consider all things, where a warrior who has no honor thinks only of himself.” Turning Thomas’ hand over in his own, his thumb slid into the palm of the other’s hand, tracing the creases in it as he spoke.

“I think you should strive for what you want. If fairness is what you want, then fight for fairness in the world. If you want honor, learn what it means to have your own code of honor.” When those red eyes met brown, Zilrud’s thumb paused its movements in the center of his palm. “Be Thomas. He is…”

Zilrud’s voice trailed off as he looked down at the checkerboard.

“…soft.”

It was the same thing he had said since he had first met Thomas. Thomas being soft had evolved since he had first met the human, and Thomas being soft was perhaps the biggest compliment Zilrud could afford him because Thomas being soft was more complex and had a deeper meaning to the Orkhai than most mathematical equations.

[Thomas]

"I think you should strive for what you want."

What did he want, exactly?

Thomas spent a lot of time thinking about what other people wanted, or what he'd always felt denied. He did not spend all that much time thinking about what he wanted. Maybe it was fairness. A more just world was a lofty ideal, though, and one he had a hard time even articulating. What would a more just world look like? Beyond life being less hard for the downtrodden, he wasn't sure, and even that was a simple enough thing to want but an impossibly complex thing to enact.

He made the next few moves decisively. He'd been wondering if Zilrud would best him, and had wanted to give the man a chance to do so, but that sentence changed his mind. He wiped the board of Zilrud's pieces, albeit not in such a rout as had happened in the first round. He won, but not without cost.

"I changed my mind. I don't want to play another round right away."

He looked over at Zilrud expectantly, waiting for a rise of the green eyebrow or a rejoinder, but none immediately came.

Thomas tossed the board onto the the other padded bench of the carriage, then got up in a crouch, clambering onto Zilrud's lap and facing him. He looked up into the red eyes who were looking at him with an emotion Thomas couldn't quite describe. It was safe to say, though, that this was not completely unwelcome, or best case scenario he'd be on the other bench and worst case scenario his torso would be in one location and his head in another.

"I want you to kiss me," he said.

A just world couldn't be created in a carriage, but a kiss was within the realm of possibility.

[Zilrud]

There was an abruptness to Thomas' action. The red gaze lingered on the checkerboard after each move, watching with each step; no matter how hard he tried, Thomas still had the upper hand. When Zilrud's final piece was taken from him, he watched it removed from play and followed the piece until the whole board disappeared. Only then did the Orkhai register that Thomas was not interested in playing another round in rapid succession, but instead, he found the other moving to sit in his lap and look him in the eye. It was bold for Thomas to do, typically, Zilrud initiated any contact, but he had been trying to behave. He was actively trying to do it whenever Thomas' honor and Lordly reputation were at stake. However, at that moment, they were alone in the carriage, and Zilrud showed no outward surprise other than the final raising of a brow in question at the other's actions.

Once more, Zilrud took a deep breath and let it out through his nose, only this time it was not for thinking or relieving some form of internalized stress. This intake of breath and exhalation, in particular, was to inhale the scent of the other sitting in his lap, looking into his eyes. Zilrud's eyes usually held a hardness to them, which Thomas (hopefully) had concluded did not always speak for the Orkhai's emotions... Even if he looked like a grouch or ready to snap someone in half the majority of the time.

The Orkhai's red eyes searched Thomas' browns before lingering on them after letting it be known that Thomas wanted the Orkhai to kiss him. Naturally, Zilrud would not give in automatically. It was not necessarily a defiant streak; it was more or less the larger of the pair was assessing the situation, something he tended to do more often than just acting rashly; it was a skill he developed between his captivity in Lorien and growing older. Zilrud was not in the business of denying himself a pleasure he wanted as well. Lifting the same hand that had been stroking a finger and thumb along Thomas' hand, the Orkhai gently took Thomas' face in his hand, letting the thicker, larger thumb rest on the human's higher cheekbone as his fingers curled around behind the other's head. He pulled Thomas closer until his handsome counterpart was pressed against the bulky wall of muscle. Leaning his head closer, careful of his tusks, the Orkhai pressed the green, purplish lips against Thomas' own. His free hand gripped one of Thomas' thighs and pulled him closer and more firmly in the seat on his lap, if possible. In that silence, Zilrud kissed Thomas. The kiss, as always, was never a light peck; Zilrud enjoyed kissing, especially kissing Thomas. So for a longer than a polite moment, the Orkhai's mouth pressed in a rhythmic embrace against the other's. Holding Thomas close,

He was not outwardly displaying it, but inwardly, Zilrud smiled into that kiss. He was pretty happy when Thomas was affectionate. It reminded him of a few things that always lightened the Orkhai's heart.