Fowlhunter [GL]

The next time, Ennanis brought a basket with her. It was a collection of breads, pastries and pretzels, leftovers from a bakery. Under the cover of night it was fairly easy to smuggle inside the sunprisons. She hid it under her oversized Warden robes so that other inmates and the other guards would not see her—them not paying any attention to her made it easier— and she only revealed it once she was by a familiar straw-haired prisoner. She dropped it just outside the cell so the girl could reach through the bars to grab it. Luckily, the girl’s bony arms could fit through them.

She really was concerningly thin. Last Ennais checked, sun injury wasn’t supposed to take the meat from your bones. She had probably always been that way, even before imprisonment.

“Can I have some water too? My throat’s too dry to swallow anything,” Chime said.

Ennanis hesitated for a moment, then unscrewed her personal canteen of water on her belt and offered it to her. Chime guzzled it hungrily, then began to work on the food.

“I feel like a dog,” Chime remarked as she practically inhaled the breads, “but I don’t care. Keep feeding me.”

“Don’t eat so fast,” Ennanis’ face creased, “it can’t be good for you to start eating suddenly after a long period of going cold turkey.”

“Girl,” Chime gestured around them, crumbs flying from her mouth, “none of this is good for me. Anyway, the sun’s supposed to keep me alive, right?” Saying that, she stuffed a bagel down her throat, chomping noisily.

“Whatever. Your end of the deal,” Ennanis reminded her.

“Yeah, yeah, your Royal Seriousness,” Chime smacked her lips. “Let me eat my breakfast, lunch, and dinner, and you can break down what you’ve been doing to make friends so I can tell you exactly what you’re going wrong.”

Ennanis started to talk. By the end of it Chime was astounded.

“Sweet Prometheus,” she breathed in horror.

“What?”

“You’re doing everything wrong.”

Ennanis took on the disposition of a kicked puppy. “It can’t be that bad…”

“You know, I assumed you were so short with me because you were being cautious,” Chime said. “Now I realise that it was sheer social ineptitude.”

“Rub it in, why don’t you,” Ennanis scrubbed over her own face, trying not to think about how depressing it was that a sooty criminal in the Cascan sunprisons had more friends than her. “So tell me. What do I do?”

Chime put down her glutinous ricecake for a second and began to consider the angel before her. The girl normally had an absent, cheerful expression, her eyes almost dreamlike, but Ennanis felt her skin prickle when she really stared at her, observing her. It reminded her of the very first day when Chime had reached out to her, out of all the Wardens there. Something told Ennanis that, below all that inane chatter, lurked a frightening perceptiveness.

"Making shallow connections isn't all that hard. Since you seem to fuck up everything when you use words,” she ignored Ennanis’ disgruntled glance, “maybe you should try speaking through actions," she mused.

"Like what?"

"Like gifts. People aren’t so different from dogs. You give them some chocolate or whatever, and soon you'll have them eating out of your hand."

"Is that what's happening right now?" Ennanis gazed pointedly at the baked goods at Chime's feet.

"No, that's different. This is transactional," Chime sucked the fruit preserve out of a bun. "Friendship means doing nice things for people without asking for anything in return."

"Then what's the point?"

Chime sighed. "The point is friendship. That's what you get in return. Good company. Someone to turn to, in crisis and in joy."

"And me giving them chocolates is supposed to do that?"

"That's the first step, my young friendmaker. Baby steps," Chime insisted. "Your comrades hate your guts. Right now, we're trying to coax them into feeling somewhat neutral about you."

"Great," Ennanis droned. "I guess I can do that. Buy chocolates."

"You do that," Chime agreed. "But first-" and then she sat up, rearranging her garb spilling on the floor. Her face had taken on a look of seriousness.

"But first. You have to show others that you actually want friends, in order to make them. Not for the sake of an assignment from your mentor. No trick in the book will help you overcome that," she insisted. "People can be confusing, but also simple creatures. Show sincerity and persistence, and at least some will return it. Ennanis, sincerity and persistence are two of your few strengths. I implore you to use them."

"......" Ennanis paused. "I'll try."

"You will," Chime affirmed, patting her stomach as she leaned back against the cell wall. The basket had been eaten clean; she licked her fingers of crumbs. "And while you're at it, I want something with meat in it next time. Pork rib noodles."

~~~

The insulting thing about Chime's advice was that it actually worked.

Staggering through the bunker doorway with a box of cocoa treats hadn't been magic, but it was close enough. After being met the first few times with confusion and surprise, what Ennanis couldn't express in words was ultimately expressed through the near-universal language of sugar. It helped that Ennanis knew chocolate—they'd been good chocolates. One week she would bring the kind made from Fenlin jungle cacoa. Another week, she'd bring some from coastal Archizoun, the kind poured into the shape of seashells, all intricate ridges and butter-smooth perfection. Soon, her comrades' smiles when they called to her seemed a little less forced. It was something.

Ennanis provided Chime with updates on the situation. Each time, the wheat-haired girl would pull a chunk of satay meat, or twist an apple strudel with her teeth, and prod her in the right direction.

"Sit with someone at lunch," Chime talked munchily. "Skip the big groups, go for one or two of your comrades first. Easier to handle.”

"Okay..."

"Yeah. And like. When you're talking, try not to criticise too much,” she said. "People like hearing nice things about themselves… obviously. Also, you're not there to be their in-charge, you want to be a friend. So search deep inside your stony heart for something you find positive about the other person, and tell them that. No, that's not bootsucking. That's called being a source of support."

Ennanis grimaced. "I still feel like I always say the wrong thing anyway.”

"Hey. Don't worry your fuschia head. Not everyone is going to be a match for your glorious personality, but trust me," Chime nodded, "the right ones will stick around. Give it time, and your best shot."

After numerous stilted conversations, Ennanis finally obtained one semblance of an acquaintance: Sabira Beneste. She was very popular and talkative. All her chatter had made Ennanis feel crowded at first, but Chime encouraged her to stick around, if only to learn from her.

Fast forward a month, Sabira came up to her after drills.

"Nana! Nana!" she gushed—according to Chime, botching other people's names was apparently a sign of affection, so Ennanis let it stand uncorrected. "Thanks so much for the spicy Kancha chocolates you bought last time~! They really woke me up in the morning, better than nectar. Even if they burn holes through my tongue." She fanned her own mouth, then smiled. "Hey, if you don't mind, do you want to join me and my friends for tea this afternoon?"

No, I want to stay in the Cascan gardens and become one with the potted plants, Ennanis' inner voice said. "Sure," was what she answered, because Chime had promised to bludgeon her with a fried breadstick if she refused invitations out.

Sabira's slit-blue eyes sparkled. "Okie! I'll see you there, then!”

They met in Sugarette Inn, a cosy coffeehouse with low ceilings and oak furniture. They had many locations across the undercloud, and this one was in Wataron. Today it served pillowy chiffon cakes, some flavoured with grassy pandan, some zesty carrot, some moist banana, filling the space with their light fragrances.

"Sit down, sit down," Sabira urged.

When Sabira said her friends would be coming Ennanis was wary, because of what Chime had said about big groups, but fortunately there were only three others with them at the table. Two were girls Sabira’s age, both sergeants.

“Kikko Apple,” one introduced herself, an angel with light-green hair and a bright smile.

“Lila Perennia,” the other said, this with lilac hair and a pointier face.

The third was a boy, a cadet with blue hair who looked much younger than the others. He glanced eagerly Ennanis’ way the moment she sat down.

“I’m Ulysses,” the boy cadet said instantly. “Commander Zoleil, I’ve heard so much about you.”

“How old are you again?” Ennanis asked.

“Thirteen, ma’am,” Ulysses saluted.

“No clan?”

“No, but I believe I have what it takes to be a Zoleil!” Ulysses raised his chin high.

At this outlandish, sudden declaration, the girls laughed.

“The way you say that sounds like a marriage proposal, Ulysses,” Sabira teased. At that remark, the boy’s face flushed.

Ennanis chewed away at her pudding. “I’m afraid I have no such tastes in men,” she said.

“Ah,” Sabira’s brows raised. “Oh. Okay. That’s fine. He’s much too young anyway, it’s just a joke.”

“Miss Nana, I didn’t know you were interested in romance at all,” Kikko chuckled nervously. “Um. You just always seem so…” she twirled her finger, “aloof, I guess.”

“Mm-hm,” Lila nodded along. “You always seem to ignore everyone. It’s like you don’t care about any of us. Sometimes, it’s really hurtful, you know?”

Ennanis’ grip on her spoon tightened. The instinct to get up and leave throbbed within her, but to do so now would be to undo hard-earned weeks of progress. So she suppressed the urge and thought about Chime’s words: sincerity and persistence. She set her spoon down.

“I… am sorry,” she said at last. “It was not my intention to be dismissive. I’m merely… not good at talking to people. If I have hurt any of you, then I sincerely apologise. I have never understood what to say, when to say things…” Her gaze was fixed on the dish in front of her. She was afraid to look up and see their faces—it was a strange feeling; when had Ennanis Zoleil ever been afraid? She didn’t dare lift her head, which suddenly felt as heavy as an anvil, but her words squeezed on in a trickle: “...It is difficult for me. But now, something made me realise I want to learn. I really, really…

“Want to be friends with all of you.”

It was no lie. She honestly, desperately, wanted to be part of that world, to have people she could smile and laugh with, to have people she could treasure and be treasured by—the way that Amanita had shown her.

A lengthy moment of silence. Mentally, Ennanis began to calculate the amount of time it would take to dash to the cashier, pay for her share, and make for the nearest cave to hide herself in for the next century.

Before she could do any of that, though, she felt a light hand upon her shoulder.

“Nana,” Sabira breathed, bright as citrus. “Of course we can be friends.”

"So that's why?" Lila stuttered in disbelief. "We thought... I mean, some others thought you hated us."

"That's not true," Ennanis murmured. Well, there were many times people pissed her off, made her feel alienated, or straight up baffled her. But she had never hated people. The very reason she had fought her entire life to become a stronger fighter, a better leader, was because she wished to serve people. No matter how easy it was for her to give into loathing, the angel Ennanis would never hate people.

The sound of a nose being loudly blown punctured the air.

“This is so touching,” Kikko sobbed. “Eat some more cake. Eat more cake,” and the angel pushed her plates towards her.

“Nobody wants your half-eaten cake, Kiki, you’re disgusting,” Sabira teased lightly, pushed Kikko’s plates back. She glanced at Ennanis, smiling. “Let's hang out more often, shall we? What's your favourite dessert? I'll get it for you.”

“But what for?”

“Huh? To celebrate the occasion, of course. Of us being friends.”

Lila and Kikko nodded along. Even Ulysses nodded eagerly, his wings fluttering, his gaze full of admiration. It was easy to forget that some of these angels were not just sucking up to her; some genuinely looked up to her.

Ennanis’ lips twitched upwards.

“Thank you,” she said. Words she had never gotten to say to Amanita. “I’d like a tiramisu.”