[Can’t Opt Out]

Xavier wasn’t like Porsq’ha or Cheska, with their ability to dig into minds… kinda. Cheska wasn’t there yet, but Xavier thought that one day she might? He’d overheard Mōra'sa's mommies talking about it once, whispering in that language of theirs that Xavier wasn’t supposed to know but knew even better than Mōra’sa.

He was good at picking up skills and knowledge just by watching and listening.

Not the point. The fact that Mōra’sa’s mommies had heard from Fräthk that Cheska’s irregular deviation wasn’t fully manifested yet wasn’t even the point. It was a digression, which Izurial’buran always said were good things. They helped people get to know one another. They showed where a person’s mind went—those little things they were reminded of as life went by and while having conversations.

The point was that Xavier couldn’t dig into minds, but he was skilled at people watching. There were little things people did that, once you knew what to look for, that you could see. From there, you could guess at what they were feeling and figure out how to behave in order to get a certain reaction out of them

Cravena’gushan clenched her hands when she was holding back her words—and if she was really, really holding back her words, the muscles in her jaw would tense. Xavier didn’t think these were strange things because he’d seen over people do them as well—Renton’buraf did both as well, and Xavier had seen other captives who shifted in and out of their floor do it too. Cravena’gushan was just angry soooo much, so it was super, super obvious that she did these things.

A lot of the time, Izurial’buran had been responsible for telling him and Porsq’ha about the hard things that they would probably experience during their lives as captive. He hid it well, but Xavier had always been able to tell that Izurial’buran hated that he had to tell them those things. It wasn’t that he was uncomfortable with what he had to say itself—sex, Izurial’buran had once said, was something all silverstrains had to get comfortable with really early.

“It’s better that we understand the reality of the world,” he had said, pulling Xavier closer into him while Porsq’ha stared off into the distance. It didn’t really take a lot to realize that Porsq’ha had already experienced sex, if whatever terrible thing the older boy had experienced could be called sex. Izurial’buran had given it a million different words at one point, trying to give Porsq’ha some way to describe what had happened to him that he felt appropriate.

“Some people,” the silverstrain had said carefully, running his fingers through Porsq’ha’s hair after he had finally broken and cried his pain into Izurial’buran’s lap, “like to call themselves survivors. They survived something terrible that happened to them and continue on, but that idea can be so… toxic because, in my experience, many of those people like to demand that other people also use the same words—that they also view themselves as something positive, as something that came out the other side and survived. It’s okay to not feel like you survived what happened to you. It’s okay to feel like a victim. Whatever words you choose to describe what happened to you, in regards to every terrible and good thing that has ever happened to you, is something only you can decide. Never let anyone tell you the way you view yourself and your life are incorrect, just because it doesn’t match up with how they have come to view their own experiences and the person they have become.”

“What are you, Izurial’buran?” Xavier had asked from where he had climbed into Porsq’ha’s back—but only with his permission! Porsq’ha generally didn’t like people touching him without permission, but he’d been okay with Olivier'burat—Xavier had decided he would call Olivier’burat Olivier’burat until he was told he couldn’t.

Since he might never see Olivier’burat or anyone else he loved and trusted again, that might never happen. Xavier hoped they would see each other again, but as he stood there beside Mōra’sa’s mommies, his fingers brushing over the aethermark Olivier’burat’s silverstrain friend had accidentally left on him… he wasn’t sure if they would ever meet again.

Over the chatter and laughter of Mōra'sa's mommies, Izurial’buran’s voice floated through him mind, telling him that, from his perspective, all of them were still victims—they were captives, so they were still in the process of being victims.

“That doesn’t mean we can’t be other things,” the older man had added, a million more words slipping out of his mouth, and Izurial’buran knew soooo many languages from all the nights he had spent with people from other nations because Fräthk had given the silverstrain to them for the night. Izurial’buran said he only knew a few fluently, but both when giving Porsq’ha words to describe the terrible things that had happened to him and when giving them more words to describe the positive things they could be while still being victims and captives, Izurial’buran had given them words in lots of different languages, carefully explaining all the tiny differences in each word that was the same and not all at once.

Rebels.

Heroes.

Saviours.

Caretakers.

Children.

Friends.

Xavier liked the idea that he could be his own hero—there were a few words in other languages that were really specific to people who saved themselves. He liked that he could be someone else’s hero even more, and maybe he had been that for Olivier’burat? It felt like Olivier’burat had needed to be saved, when Mōra’sa’s mommy attacked him.

If something happened to Olivier’burat… it felt like bad things would happen.

“Where is he?” one of Mōra'sa's mommies said—the mean one. They were both mean, but the one who attacked Olivier’burat was always a bit meaner. Mōra'sa's nice mommy was mean with words. Mōra'sa's mean mommy was mean with both words and fists. Words were waaaaay easier to ignore than fists—Xavier knew the words they said were stupid, after all.

Their words used to affect him—and he was still really good at faking that their words were getting to him because the one time he’d made it clear that they could say anything to him and he wouldn’t care had been bad enough that he’d been removed from their care for a few days, while his injuries healed. Then, he’d gone back and known to pretend their words sliced him up just as much as Mōra'sa's mean mommy’s fists left bruises.

Xavier wasn’t sure, but he thought Porsq’ha had done something to make sure their words didn’t affect him. Some people didn’t like Porsq’ha doing things to their minds, but Xavier didn’t really get it. For him, Porsq’ha had only even done good things, making his life better.

Hopefully, Porsq’ha was okay. At least he hadn’t been there when Mōra'sa's mommies had shown up. They would have hurt Porsq’ha, all to make sure they could get him back to Fräthk. Porsq’ha was so valuable and so kind. Olivier’burat had been willing to die for Xavier, and he thought Porsq’ha—who was his friend, and almost like an older brother to him—would be as well.

All Mōra'sa's mommies would have needed to do was threaten him and Porsq’ha would have cooperated. Xavier was glad it was only him being handed back to Fräthk, and he was trying really hard not to be afraid.

Unless other people had been caught as well—and he really hoped they hadn’t been—he was going to be put somewhere where he knew no one. Izurial’buran had made sure both he and Porsq’ha knew that, while their lives were still terrible, they were slightly safer where they were. No one in their holding cells liked little kids. Mōra'sa's mommies were mean to him, but at least they didn’t touch him like that.

The man they wanted to give him over to did like little kids and he had a really powerful irregular deviation. According to Cordk’buran, that was the only reason Prex was kept around: he was so powerful that lots of people were willing to overlook his proclivities. Not everyone, though! Vtraní, one of the few times they had met, had told him that Prex was always avoiding them because he knew that Vtraní would definitely kill him.

“It’s why I never keep a set schedule of which holding cell I go to,” they had said, giving him and Porsq’ha a bit of candy before they slipped back upstairs. “If he never knows which holding cell I’ll be at, or how long I’ll be there, he can’t come in and take advantage of one of you children.”

“But that means he takes other kids from the streets,” Porsq’ha had said, Vtraní humming in agreement.

“Yes, and that is terrible.” Huffing what Izurial’buran called a humorous laugh, Vtraní had added, “If the Drinarna of the city were actually doing their jobs, they would have hunted down that piece of garbage a long time ago.”

Later, Porsq’ha had told him that Vtraní hadn’t told them the worst bit: they were pretty sure that some of the Drinarna who worked for Fräthk actually handed kids over to Prex. Since his abilities didn’t work that well on Vtraní, Porsq’ha had only been able to say that there had been a taste of something in Vtraní’s mind that, combined with how much Izurial’buran and Vtraní had made sure they knew never to trust any Drinarna, they were actually being really terrible.

Xavier was always listening, and when he and Porsq’ha were allowed to spend time together, he learned about a lot of the things the older boy had learned from the minds of everyone he came into contact with—other captives and their guards, mostly, since he wasn’t allowed outside anymore. All that listening and learning meant he knew that the Drinarna were really bad, and it seemed like some of them were letting lots of criminals go unpunished and letting cases go unsolved, all so that interest in Fräthk’s operations could be pushed under other, more important cases.

A bunch of kids going missing and then being found murdered? That was a big and very distracting case.

Xavier knew Prex wouldn’t kill him—he was too valuable—but that didn’t mean he wasn’t scared, even if he was trying so hard not to show it.

“What should I do… if I’m ever… given to someone like that?” he had once asked Izurial’buran. His weight had shifted from side to side. Porsq’ha hadn’t been with them that time because Porsq’ha didn’t need to hear whether whatever he had done when someone had hurt him had been good or bad, right or totally wrong.

Of course, Izurial’buran had told him that was a difficult thing to answer.

“Not just for predators who like to prey on little kids, but for every type of person who might try to hurt you… they’re all different? If we’re just thinking of those who would kidnap people for sexual reasons, there are those who want their victims afraid—it’s a power thing—others who are looking for a connection with the person they took—it’s…”

Izurial'buran had looked away, truly uncomfortable as he told him that some people truly just liked little kids and wanted to be with them, although he’d also told Xavier that once, he’d heard about a woman who just wanted to replace the child she lost kidnapping kids. As much as he had normalized conversations about both the good and terrible parts of sexuality, Izurial’buran hadn’t liked needing to have these conversations with children. So, he deflected a lot, adding bits of information and side stories into what he told them, so that everything he told them wouldn’t add up into being too much. Izurial’buran didn’t think having to tell them anything so sad and terrible was fair to them, as though Xavier and Porsq’ha hadn’t both realized that every silverstrain probably had to have these conversations pushed into them when they were far too young as well, even when they had mommies and daddies who loved them and would try their best to keep them safe.

The world, Xavier often thought, was a terrible place, and one day…

One day, he thought he would quite like to be a hero to people who needed a little help saving themselves—or just couldn’t save themselves! Izurial'buran had been very clear when they discussed words and how they could view themselves as anything that it was as okay to feel like you could save yourself as it was to feel like you couldn’t!

“Some people like to shame people who need help. It’s more of that toxic positivity. Be a survivor. Be your own hero. Well, some people aren’t in a place to do that, and putting people down for not having strength for something like that is a terrible thing. Don’t do it.”

So, one day, Xavier would like to help people who both could and couldn’t help themselves.

Right now, he thought himself both: he was both someone who needed a hero and someone who could work to protect himself.

Beside him, Mōra'sa's mommies continued to complain about how long it was taking for Prex to arrive, but Xavier could already feel him coming closer—and how had Mōra'sa's mommies not felt that power of his? It was so loud—impossible to ignore.

Yet, when the man’s gravelly voice cut through their complaints, snide and cruel and sending a shudder through Xavier’s entire body, both women started. Words of greeting floated between the three, and it didn’t escape his notice that they had pulled Mōra'sa under one of their coats, trying to keep Prex from even catching the smallest glimpse of her.

The man noticed, Xavier thought, as he stared at the man, willing himself not to cower or show his fear.

“Someone like Prex… from what I’ve heard, he is a bit of both. He likes kids, but he also enjoys when they fear him. I can’t tell you what the best option is, if you end up in his hands, but… but I can think of two possible plans. One: let yourself fear him, as it will make you some momentary toy that it no different than a child he could pick up anywhere. He can’t kill you without getting into trouble, so he will eventually give you back and find someone else,” Izurial had suggested leaving out the fact that when returned, it would be as a broken thing.

Unlike most of the kids Prex took from the city, he would survive with his life. That didn’t make it okay.

“The second thing you could consider doing is… not being afraid? Or, pretending not to be? I’ve seen how acting unafraid of people who like the fear can end with that person… not enjoying their time with their victim, but it can also lead to them being crueller, trying to break their victim. It can also result in… how do I put it…” Izurial'buran had been quiet for a long time, his fingers continuing to drag through Xavier’s hair, trying to loosen some of the worst mats. It hadn’t really worked, but Xavier liked the feel of fingers scratching his scalp, which was always so itchy.

Eventually, the silverstrain had found his words, explaining in a million words that, sometimes, predators were looking for a specific type of victim, but if the person was completely different, it might lead to frustration or to them seeing their victim as not a victim.

“I know it’s complicated, but, someone like Prex might be looking for the perfect victim who might not actually be afraid of him. There’s as much a chance that he won’t be able to do anything to you because you aren’t what he’s looking for as there is that he’ll try to force fear out of you, but he might also realize you’re different in a way he likes and that might… delay things? Give someone like Vtraní time to find you?” Izurial’buran had run his fingers through his own silver hair, annoyed because Xavier could tell he hated this.

There was no good answer to his question of what do I do? but Izurial'buran had tried his best. Staring down Prex, Xavier thought he understood how much the question had weighed on the silverstrain: the man was terrifying and Izurial’buran had been forced to give him advice that might keep him safe or might make everything soooo much worse for him, and there was no way either of them could know what reaction each path would lead him to.

Xavier would rather regret being brave, even if, as the man’s predatory eyes finally found his, all he wanted to do was run away and cry.

If later, it seemed like the man would try to break him, Xavier would let his fear out. Until then, he clamped her jaw tight and continued to stare the man down, every little twitch of Prex’s body pulling into Xavier’s mind, looking for anything he could use to keep himself save.