…or, How To Make Sure Someone Is Not Married To A Human, Elf, Or Dwarf
Violet had gotten up and left at some point while we were at breakfast. The next time I saw her, she was coming out of her room when I answered Marlot’s knock. She’d put on a big loose black top and a black broom skirt. This was a token effort towards modesty. It was obvious she wasn’t wearing a bra, and not just because there were no straps.
“Yeah, I’m going ranger, top and bottom,” she said, grabbing the sides of her skirt like she was going to curtsy. “The whole ‘sense of freedom’ thing is kind of addicting.”
“But if you’re addicted to it, how are you free?” Marlot asked.
“Because I picked it,” Violet said. “It’s my addiction and nobody else’s.”
“If you had somebody else’s addiction, how would you ever know?” Marlot asked.
“I don’t know,” Violet said. “I might catch on when I keep reaching for their pipe.”
She had a black hoodie, but she wasn’t putting it on.
“Case you get cold?” I asked.
“Or I need armor,” she said.
“You might want to bring your weapon, too,” I said. “There will probably be campus guards around.”
“Oh, yeah,” Violet said, and she stuck a hand back through the door to catch a dagger with purple jewels stuck in the wavy blade.
“Have you worn that before?” I asked.
“I have a couple of different ones,” she said. “I don’t always bring one.” She shrugged. “If I don’t feel a monster coming, it’s probably not something you can fight with weapons. Or it’s undead, and I can kill it with fire.”
“Unless it’s the kind of monster that writes tickets for not having weapons,” I said.
“You can’t spend your whole life doing things because you’re afraid of getting caught,” Violet said.
“I heard it’s a twenty-five silver fine,” I said.
“It actually goes all the way up to the shiny yellow silver,” Marlot said.
“Yeah, but they’re not going to give anybody that for the first time,” Violet said. She shrugged. “And if they do? I don’t got it, so fuck ‘em anyway.”
“I think you have the orientation of fuckery inverted there,” Marlot said.
“Yeah, if you’ve got outstanding fines they won’t let you register for next semester,” I said.
“Look,” Violet said, holding up the curved dagger. “Weapon right here. I haven’t been fined yet. Anyway, I’m not the only one on the floor who lets that rule slide sometimes, and I don’t see anybody selling their bodies on the street to pay their piles of tickets.”
“Kira’s been approached by three different guards,” Marlot said. “She’s started wearing her ID on a lanyard around her neck so she doesn’t have to dig it out every time.”
“Yeah, that’s Kira,” Violet said. “She’s got problems I don’t. I feel bad about it, but how am I supposed to be properly guilty over my white human privilege if I never even cash in the benefits?”
“She’s got something there,” Marlot said to me. “I mean, the points do expire if you don’t use them. That’s why I ended up here. I had enough on my card either for a university education or a winged pony.”
“I use up most of mine being a delicate blossom and not being beaten into the pavement for it,” Violet said. “But I’ve got at least enough for a couple circles of protection from consequence.”
“We don’t think you’re a delicate blossom, Violet,” I said. The denial was automatic. Also, stupid.
“Yeah,” she said, drawing it out. “‘What you think’ is pretty much the worst thing to try to lie to me about. The whole ‘I can’t detect truth, only what you’re thinking’ thing kind of doesn’t work out in your favor there.”
We headed out and across campus. Violet wasn’t used to Marlot’s pace and kept walking ahead and then looping back. By the time we got to the bridge, Violet was as frustrated with Marlot as the ladle jockey from the cafeteria.
Marlot was pointedly oblivious to this. Maybe she was pacing herself, but she wasn’t usually so slow so early in the day.
“Oh, look!” Violet said when we were halfway across. She pointed at the treeline, where a blue dragon—Claude, the Skarean Blue, if they didn’t have another one of that breed—had just broken into view.
The blue dragon wheeled up towards the sky, straightened its long neck and let out a huge blast of lightning. The bridge rattled with the boom of the thunderclap that followed. We were still recovering from that when a fork of lightning arched across the sky, jumping among the feeble, fluffy cloud cover, answering the boom with a long rumble. I wondered how they’d done that for a second, then realized Claude and his rider seemed just as surprised by it. He wheeled over on his side and she lost her grip on his reins for a second.
“Whoa,” I said.
“Yeah, that’s cool,” Violet said.
“She almost fell,” I said. The dragon did a couple of tight loops in the air and then started to descend again. “Or lost control. I’m guessing they’re strapped into the harness pretty tight.”
“What?”
“Didn’t look like that second burst came from the dragon,” Marlot said. “The greater dragons have a natural affinity for their own elements and can set up effects like that, but I don’t think the little ones can do that.”
Marlot picked up the pace after that and we made it there a few minutes later. I’d never gone to the agronomy area. Between the signs, the crowd, and the fucking dragons, it wasn’t hard to find the right place anyway.
Right away, I spotted Claude, because he was rearing up on his hind legs and flapping his wings. I was sure it was him now. Not only could I see him more distinctly, but I recognized Margaret, the slim human woman who’d ridden him in the show, among the people trying to calm him down. She wasn’t dressed for dragonriding, though.
“Look sharp,” Marlot said, pulling my elbow. “It’s da fuzz.”
Downfield, a dozen guards had surrounded a towering tall blonde woman with strong features and a stone spear taller than she was. She was about twice a human’s height. Her hair was up in a bun, held in place by a metal headpiece. I’d call it a tiara, but it wasn’t that dainty. It was an iron circlet, with a design like turrets jutting up from a castle wall. She wore a chain shirt that was something between a tunic and a dress, the bottom hanging below her knee and slitted up the sides to mid-thigh. It was cinched at her broad waist with a leather belt bearing a wolf’s head buckle. The “hems” of the mail garment were lined with white cloth somehow, making it look more like clothes than armor.
They didn’t have their weapons out, but they didn’t need them. She looked like she was going to die of embarrassment on the spot. Her hand was over her mouth. Giant tears were streaming down her face.
“Oh, man,” Violet said. “I kinda wanna go over and, I don’t know. Hug her leg?”
“Wonder what they’re on her for,” I said.
“Just a guess, but probably not for a weapon check,” Marlot said. “Very pretty ogre, or very short giant?”
“Probably a half-giant,” I said.
“There are fair giants,” Marlot said. “She could be a full-blooded one.”
“She’s a little short for that,” I said. “She’s tall, but giants are usually giant.”
“Some people are shorter than others,” she said.
“People who are giants aren’t,” I said.
“So, every giant is taller than every other giant now?” Marlot said.
“Every giant is taller than that,” I said.
While we argued, a pretty half-elf dressed in tight leather and with unusually chestnut colored hair had come over to resolve whatever was going on. The guards seemed reluctant to disperse. I got the feeling they didn’t want to let the giantish woman go, but weren’t eager to take her on. Odds were they’d expected a different reaction than weeping and mortification.
The half-elf reached up and took her by the hand, and led her to the enclosure where a team of handlers was at work calming the grounded Claude. When he’d settled down, the half-elf climbed through the fence and beckoned the taller woman to lay her spear down and come over. Hesitantly, she did so. Under the rider’s guidance, she reached out and touched the base of his neck, then stroked along his spine.
“Oh, that’s freaking adorable,” Violet said as Claude responded to the touch.
“Which one?” Marlot asked.
“Both of them,” Violet said. “The cute is inextricably bound between them.”
“I bet she had something to do with the cloudburst that spooked him,” I said.
“Yeah, you think?” Marlot said.
“Yeah, that thought totally hadn’t occurred to either one of us,” Violet said. “I wonder where Barley is?”
“Ordinarily I’d say look for the crowd,” I said. “But I don’t think she’s the biggest draw here.”
I could see at least five paddocks set up with full-sized lesser dragons in them. Near where we were, there was also a small stage where eight mostly human singers were dressed up in blue robes and crowns. They looked like students. A sign on an easel said they were the Mad Regals, and advertised their next performance at the T. M. Lazar Center for the Bardic Arts back on main campus. Yep. Students.
Further down, there was a puppet show, and jugglers and mummers were making the rounds. Professor Bryony had called it a fair, but I hadn’t expected all the sideshows. I wondered how many of the performers were also bardic students taking advantage of the crowd drawn by the dragons to earn some credit. It was hard to believe the dragons weren’t enough of a draw on their own.
The mockdragons were all over the place, being taken around with handlers or tethered to perches. A force cage—biggest one I’d ever seen—had been conjured between two barns, and a flock of them flew around freely inside it.
“I’m gonna go find her and say hi,” Violet said.
“I’ll come with,” I said.
“Uh, I kind of wanted to talk to her about the room situation,” Violet said. “Since Temperance is definitely looking for other habitation, and Barley would really like a place that’s her own. Could you give me a few minutes to talk to her by myself?”
“Something you don’t want to talk about in front of everybody?” I said.
“I think she’d prefer it, for the just-roommates portion of it,” Violet said.
“Ah,” I said.
“But you know, you’ll be welcome to come over and bone her any time,” Violet said. “Boy sex gets boring. You seriously need more pussy in your sex life.”
“I’ll take that under advisement,” I said.
Violet turned and headed off, craning her neck to see over the crowd as she bounced along, her feet barely touching the ground and her whole body floating more than you’d expect a body to.
“I’m going to find a bathroom and say bye,” Marlot said. “Wanna come with me instead?”
“I want to go check out the big blues,” I said.
“You mean those big blue eyes, of course,” Marlot said. “Go for it. She ought to be worth at least eight notches in your bedpost, by volume.”
“Yeah, uh, not my type,” I said. “I don’t go for women who require native guides, sturdy rope, and favorable weather conditions to mount.”
“Oh, you’re funny when you’re racist,” Marlot said.
“That wasn’t racism,” I said. “That was a tall joke.”
“Whatever, it cost you fifty privilege points either way,” she said, and she started stumping away towards one of the more modern-looking farm buildings, ignoring the portable johns that had been set up at the edge of the event.
The giant-like woman had moved on by this point. It would have been interesting to learn more about her—including her actual race—but it seemed creepy to follow her, as easy as it would have been. I headed for Claude instead.
He was at ease now, walking in a circle in his paddock, his wings folded up on his back. They’d removed the tack and the half-elven rider was nowhere in sight. Margaret seemed to be the “face” for the exhibit. She was smiling and chatting with folks, who were giving his enclosure a wider berth than any of the other dragons except for the red, Magestrix.
Getting closer, I noticed all the little details that hadn’t been apparent watching him perched on stage. The spur protrusions on his legs. The way his toes hooked upward to keep his talons from dragging on the ground when he walked. The way the scales on the top side of him glittered in the sun and had striations of differing shades, while the ones underneath were a dull and uniform sky blue.
His eyes were worth noticing. People drew dragons with eyes like cats or snakes. I’d figured that was about what they looked like. It turned out a dragon’s eye was like a dragon’s eye. There wasn’t anything else like it. Claude’s were blue on the outside, fading towards white in the center, with jagged diagonal pupils.
I walked right up to the fence. There were signs warning against climbing over or sticking limbs through without a handler’s permission, but nothing saying to keep back. Glowing stones laying on the ground inside the oval of the temporary structure described a smaller oval, which the dragon didn’t seem to be able or inclined to step over.
My boldness got Margaret’s attention.
“Ave!” she said. “Hail! Hello! Welcome!”
“Ave,” I replied. The use of a draconian greeting was a little corny, but whatever.
“Are you interested in dragons?” she asked.
“Yeah, I saw him at the show in Enwich,” I said. “Claude, right?”
“Yes. He’s registered as Tiberius Claudius,” she said. “But somehow he’s not quite regal enough to pull it off, so we call him Claude.”
“That’s cute,” I said. “I wouldn’t be the one to tell a dragon he’s not regal, though.”
She had a slight elven cadence to her speech, not surprising since there were so many elves and elfbloods in the group. Since they worked with animals that lived for hundreds of years, that wasn’t surprising.
“Yes, well, after dealing with Magestrix and Her Imperial Highness all day, Claude’s nonsense is so transparent,” she said.
“Magestrix is the red, isn’t she?” I asked. I didn’t have to ask who Her Imperial Highness was. They’d had so much pride in Vera, the Imperial Blue, respectfully named after the Empress. She’d expect me to know who she was talking about.
“Yes,” she said, smiling. “You paid attention or did your homework. I’m—”
“Margaret,” I said, holding out my hand. “I’m James. That’s, uh, my human name. Among my grandfather’s people, I’m Iamos Toxotes.”
Okay. Total cheeseball. I admit it. This was a woman, though. Not a girl. Not a “college woman”. A grown woman, who worked with dragons. She had a few lines on her face, but her body was holding up pretty well. I’d seen her in black leather, and she didn’t look too bad in the elven-inspired vest and dress she was wearing.
I wasn’t going to get anywhere with her in a single afternoon while she was working, but it didn’t hurt anything to get a little flirt on, see how far I could go. She didn’t have a wedding band or a torc. If the chains around her waist meant something, it wasn’t a human or elven marriage symbol, or a dwarven one I’d heard about.
“Wow,” she said. “Many people remember the dragons’ names, but very few pay any attention to the riders.”
“Well, I figure you’re not just there on his back to balance out the load or whatever,” I said. “How come you’re not riding him today?”
“Today is about public relations as much as anything,” she said. “These magnificent beasts can’t speak for themselves, so we must speak for them. I’m Claude’s primary rider, so I am the one who speaks for him.”
“I think that’s really noble,” I said.
“Dragons were the original inhabitants of the world,” she said. “They were old when elves were new. Sages say that there will still be dragons when the last races of people have died out.”
“I’ve heard that,” I said. “But doesn’t a line like that make conservation a hard sell?”
She laughed.
“Conserving dragons is already a ‘hard sell’,” she said. “The dragons who will outlive elves and men don’t need much protection, it’s true. But just as with creatures of later orders of creation, there are high dragons and there are low dragons. It’s the low ones we are concerned about. The time when shepherds lived in fear of a winged shadow are gone. Now the shepherds grab enchanted crossbows, or their pastures are protected by wards that prevent flying over them at any height, cutting the dragons off from more land than just their own.”
“How bad is it?” I asked.
“Bad,” she said. “There are only six Imperial Blue Dragons in the wild, for instance, and they were reintroduced by breeding programs in the last few decades. I’ll be dead and gone before any of them produce eggs. The Skareans—my Claude’s line—are doing a bit better. There are a few hundred of them. We don’t have numbers on the Northern Mountain Reds. Their remoteness may have sheltered them from the predation their cousins have suffered, but we don’t know. Reds suffer the most attacks, because they are so visible and because their fire breath is seen as uncommonly dangerous. You’ll notice Trixie doesn’t have quite the same audience as HIH does.”
“Trixie?”
“Magestrix,” she said. “Which is silly, since she’s a great big pussycat. Vera is the least domesticated of any of our performing dragons. When Claude gets spooky, the danger is his thrashing tail or flailing neck will strike somebody, but Vera would just plain attack were she set off similarly and not restrained. But Imperial Blues are so pretty, so everybody just crowds around.”
“Ah,” I said, and I scratched off my plan to offer to show her my tattoo. “What set him off, exactly?”
I hoped for at least a clue about the oversized woman’s heritage. Storm giant seemed the obvious choice, but as I recalled they were the largest race of fair giants. It would probably take more than one human ancestor to drag one down to ten or eleven feet.
“You didn’t see?” she asked.
“I just got here,” I said.
“Oh, it was just an overexcited student trying to say ‘hello’,” Margaret said. “I think she was as frightened as he was.”
“You sound surprised,” I said.
“Is that odd?” she asked. “I suppose you’re used to thinking of people being afraid of dragons, not the other way around, but they are like any other creature. They can be curious about the unknown and they can be startled by the unexpected, the same as any animal—or person.”
“I guess that makes sense,” I said. “So, are you stuck here all day?”
“I do get breaks,” she said. “But I mostly spend them here. Claude’s my big baby. Of course, he is a baby who was born more than two centuries before I was, but he’s still a baby all the same.”
“I was going to go get a pop or something,” I said. “Would you like some? Or lemonade or something?”
“You’re very kind,” she said. “But I have a water bottle. Thank you.”
“Oh, okay,” I said.
It didn’t seem like there was any graceful way to stick around after that, since I’d just said I was going to get a drink. I’d head back her way later, after getting something to drink and catching up with Violet and Barley.
Right up until the point she’d shut me down, it had gone pretty well.
” Right up until the point she’d shut me down, it had gone pretty well.”
Isn’t that how it always goes? damn teases lol
Just out of curiosity do you have a game being made for this?
If not, I’m a game design student and would love the chance to try and make one.. shoot me an e-mail if your interested or even want a game based off your world
Huh, no or not many yet…
Poor Pala, seriously. I like the way that the Dragons are described, though.
Shouldn’t “I’ll be gone and gone” be “long and gone”?
But nice info on dragons.
When the Mad Regals
Play madrigals they really
Do go for baroque
Cunning Linguistics:
Margaritis is a Greek
(Elf) name that means “pearl”
There are only six
Imperial Blue Dragons
In the wild—for now
I am confused, Unikhell. Jamie was coming on to a woman who gave no indication of interest or invitation — so his attentions were likely unwanted, and he knew it but was doing it anyway. Further, he was (to be honest) rude enough to do so in a format where she was required by her job to be pleasant to everyone who came by, i.e. she was on the job. That she shut him down politely is an indication to me of her courtesy — and she did so gracefully enough that it took two readings for me to figure out the likely point where Jamie decided he’d been shut down.
And yet you seem to have categorized the woman as a “damn tease,” rather than the intrusive man as the damn unwanted annoyance he actually was. Perhaps you could explain your reasoning to me?
Collie: I think the more likely answer is just that Jamie was dense. I don’t think she “teased” at all. She was just chattering and being friendly. It was Iamos that read everything in to it. Oversexed is right. Ultimately it came across as a typical male attitude. “Oh, it’s a good looking woman, I am flirting, she digs me!” Er… however the hell they get to that.
If anything, Iamos is starting to sound like Iaison.
Claude kind of reminds me of Saphira in Eragon.
Doesn’t the “lol” after “damn teases” indicate sarcasm or at least a kidding tone?
I fully agree that Jamie was a little nuts to think that this beautiful woman who rides a dragon would be interested in a college boy like he is. She probably sees so many others like him that she has no desire to get to know any one of them closely.
Jamie isn’t a very good flirt. He never even tried to get her talking about what excites *her*. Heck, “When did you first think about becoming a dragonrider?” would do, and be interesting to boot.
Yeah, I know he’s a fictional character. I just can’t stand to see people missing out on interesting sex due to bad conversational skills.
Although maybe Jamie’s got all the action he deserves at this point anyway. He’s socially nicer than Mack, but hasn’t shown nearly the will to help, or study, or improve, or face down fears.
I’d like to see a bolder side of him, if there is one. But maybe this is all the Jamie there is. In which case, no, he doesn’t deserve sexual reward points from the universe.
Baaaaa!
First, let me check the encyclopedia. Ah, yes: Tiberius Claudius Caesar Augustus Germanicus or Emperor Claudius I, star of I, Claudius. Somehow, Claude comes across as a much nicer character than his namesake.
Yes, Jamie should have kept the subject on dragons. One question that he could have asked would be the one about stroking Claude. The thing with Pala might have been a one-off, but they might let people in, one at a time and under close supervision, to pet the more even-tempered of the dragons. Not that the punters would have been up for it, with everyone stood a wary distance from the fence.
Of course, Jamie knew that he was unlikely to get anywhere with Margaret (is that a Maggie Thatcher reference, what with the blue?), and so wasn’t hugely disappointed. He’d probably get a lot further with Marcello, when he visits Vera’s pen, but the game there would be a completely different one.
I don’t see her as teasing. She was polite and friendly while they were talking her business, even though he was probably displaying come-on signs, then politely and tactfully said no when he tried to move onto relationship-forming. That sort of thing probably happens a lot, and she tries to deal with it as best she can. It will probably go in a similar fashion if Jamie returns for a second sally. No harm will come of it.
Jamie doesn’t describe Margaret’s chains in detail, but they probably don’t resemble a goblin marriage girdle (leather, with three loops of iron chain joined with a lock). Jamie should have noticed the lock if it were there.
Anyway, a nice enough start to the fair. Have fun, Jamie.
“…their pastures are protected by wards that prevent flying over them at any height, cutting the dragons’ off from more land than just their own.”
If you’re cutting something off the dragons then I hope you have a very long knife. Perhaps just excising the apostrophe would be safer…
This was just overflowing with dragons and win and giants and awesome.
Enjoyin’ the MOAR!
@ Greenwood Goat:
My feeling is that if it was a Margaret Thatcher reference, Jaime wouldn’t have gotten anywhere near her, given that she probly wouldn’t look good enough for him to even consider it.
@Andy, #14
I’m still trying to figure out how Margaret Thatcher is an ug-o. Not that you’re necessarily saying that — I can see Jamie turning down a lot of nice looking women because his standards are higher and seem very select. But I keep hearing about Mdme. Thatcher being bad looking. I’m not British — or Canadian, for that matter — so maybe there’s a component of personality that taints her looks for those sections that doesn’t affect me, but from what I’ve seen, she looks passably nice. I wouldn’t consider her hot-to-trot or anything like that, but she seems decent looking for her age. What’s up, Brits?
@k4hl4n:
I’m not British, but I think it’s a matter of the terms they have her framed in, in their minds. Decades ago she was already an old battle axe and “The Iron Lady” and other names besides. If you think about somebody in those terms, it’s going to affect how you view them.
How many Americans do you hear going, “I think Hillary Clinton is a shrill harpy, but man, her looks have held up pretty well, considering?”
@1 (Unikhell):
Uh, right. Because any woman who is remotely friendly or civil to any man is obviously trying to signify that she wants him, and if she doesn’t then follow through and have sex with him at the very first opportunity, she’s a tease.
And of course, if she isn’t friendly or civil, then she’s a bitch. And if she does have sex with him, she’s a slut.
Have I got all the options covered?
That’s actually really sad that people are still at the “bounty” stage of dealing with predators… I’d like to see if this sort of fair causes farmers and ranchers to drop the ceiling on their wards. At least some people are trying to change the way the world views lesser dragons. I hope they are successful.
No, I’m not a bleeding heart animal lover, I’m a practical one, and I’m a hunter as well. I just really dislike seeing animals displaced by human (or any race, in this world) expansion.
@Everyone
I think the ‘lol’ at the end signifies that Unikell’s comments were of the ‘tongue in cheek’ variety.
@Miss Lynx.
No. According to traditional mysognist lore, she can also be a lesbian, although this is commonly combined with one of the more traditional phrases. For example, if she is a hot lesbian, she is a lesbian slut.
I’ve never been sure of the code myself, which is why I have to call my hands names.
@Lynx:
The secret here is that men realize that lust makes them do stupid things, and it’s easier to blame the women for whom they lust than blame their own biochemistry.
So yes, men can always find a nasty name to call a woman they desire, because they’re always a little upset that they can so easily *desire* someone they don’t even like or admire.
You’re right that the namecalling is disgusting and sometimes even evil. I just think it’s fascinating that a lot of men’s stupidity about women and sex comes out of men’s own subconscious recognition that lust can make them stupid.
Hoo-boy! Maggie Thatcher was never considered particularly comely in the UK, and was in her mid fifties by the time she became Prime Minister. If anything, her appearance improved during her period in this office, as teams of highly-paid PR and image consultants worked hard to fill in the holes and plaster over the cracks. Many of her colleagues recall being awestruck by her, but this might have been more of a power thing. She certainly looks regal in most of her later portraits, probably also reflecting an inner desire to be queen (her occasional adoption of the royal “we” was never down to a slip of the tongue IMHO).
No, Jamie would not have liked her. Iason would have liked her even less. And they were fortunate enough not to have lived under her government. She would be so envious of the elves, being able “to go on and on and on” as she desired to. *sigh* Where is an elven assassin when you need one?
- ‘When Margaret Thatcher dies, I shall go and jump up and down on her grave.’
- ‘I won’t. I can’t stand long queues.’
(anon)
As to Margaret Thatcher’s attractiveness, here is a link to a picture taken in 1951.
http://cache.jezebel.com/assets/images/jezebel/2008/06/margaret_thatcher_wedding.jpg
I apologize for it not being a hyperlink, but I am unfamiliar with the coding.
Well, color me special…. All that was needed to make it a hyperlink was to type it our properly.
@Haedron, #23
I don’t know if that was supposed to be a case-in-point for the good- or the bad-looking opinion, but she looks kind of cute, actually. Like, if I saw a girl who looked like that on T.V., I’d be like, “Hm, she’s not bad-looking.” I’m calling it political b.s. that she’s supposedly ugly. It’d be like me saying Sarah Palin is ugly ’cause I’m not fond of her politically — stupid. Palin’s not bad-looking. She’s actually kind of pretty. Her looks aren’t why I dislike her politically. Poor Margaret Thatcher, having her looks critiqued based on politics.
@Smith, Les: It’s true a LOL usually indicates an attempt at humor, but honestly, blaming women for men wanting to treat them like tradable commodities isn’t funny.
@Greenwood Goat: It’s also likely true no physical harm will come, in the story, of Jamie’s clumsy attempt to seduce Margaret. The point, at least for me, isn’t whether or not physical damage was done, though. It’s that Margaret shouldn’t have to put up with careless and horny male college students acting like she’s nothing more than a potentially available sex toy — especially when she’s at work and thus can’t give him the verbal drubbing such unacceptable behavior truly deserves.
That’s why I carefully stipulated no physical harm, above. Having a concept of one’s Self as deserving of both respect and dignity is part of what I consider a healthy psyche. It’s exhausting to have to put up with years of constant, inconsiderate mental poking by horny boys, and I consider that mental harm. That sort of behavior should not be acceptable for rational adults.
@LetsSee: I’m not sure I agree Jamie is being dense. He knows he’s not going to succeed with her and that she’s at work, yet he still treats her like a sexual experiment rather than another sapient being worthy of respect and courtesy. He even critiques her body and carefully checks to see if she’s married (i.e. “taken” by another male) before he starts deliberately pushing her:
Sounds like he knows precisely what he’s doing.
@LetsSee, Miss Lynx, DKS, re men who don’t get their sexual way calling women names: the impression I’d gotten was the name-calling was due to the men in question behaving like bratty, antisocial children who aren’t immediately getting what they want — so they throw a temper tantrum and blame the woman. Unfortunately, it also seems a lot of current societies buy into that sort of spoiled male petulance, to the extent that the name-calling (and worse) sexually slurs women if they do and if they don’t.
um, i don’t think that jamie is engaging in any horrific, misogynistic behavior here. he flirted with a woman, after checking to see that she wasn’t wearing by her own choice any tokens that would indicate her utter lack of receptiveness to advances (signs of marriage.)
after having ruled out the most obvious signs of an automatic no, he proceeds to politely, if somewhat clumsily, engage her in conversation. when he does make a play, she shuts him down and he walks away.
if Margaret is so disgusted by the potential attentions of college kids, she could always wear a fake wedding ring, or a virgin priestess’s sign, or something. she doesn’t seem offended, just uninterested.
so i reread the exchange. and not only was Jamie polite, he didn’t ask her a single nosy personal question that would be in any way inappropriate until he asked if he could get her a drink.
so while the one commenter was being a dick, i think the feminist rage directed at Jamie for somehow treating her as a sex toy doesn’t have any basis.
@An elf girl:
You go, girl!
@an elf girl: I’m not sure where you get “feminist rage” from my commentary, nor why you apparently seem to think being a feminist will automatically equate to rage. I’m not sure, either, why it’s the woman’s responsibility to lie, in order to keep horny college boys from bothering her — rather than her simply being treated with basic courtesy. You are, of course, entitled to your opinion.
For myself, I was trying to point out how lopsided social standards are, in regards to gender-based expectations of courteous treatment. I’d have to say you’ve helped prove my point, so for that: thank you.
@Collie
Who dares wins, if you don’t try you won’t succeed.
No harm in trying (Iamie i mean).
It’s not the woman’s responsibility to lie, it’s simply a conveniance.
And feminism does not equal rage, you sound pissed off, so=rage.
also since when does showing attraction=treated like a sex toy?
how in your world do people get dates, ‘cos the straightforward “You seem nice and i would like to date you” approach just never works.
@elfgirl: I agree that Jamie’s flirting was not rude, though it was both (a) unskilled and (b) shallow. I mean, she’s a dragonrider, and a relative expert on dragons, and you aren’t curious about that? Even though you were into dragons enough to get one tattooed alive on your back? C’mon, man.
This is why I like Mack better, even though Jamie’s much better behaved: Mack’s passionate for things that I respect. I don’t know what Jamie’s passionate about at all.
@ DKS
Besides Iason, you mean?
@26 Laughing Collie:
O-o-o-o-kay… I can see where you’re coming from. But it looks like you’re trying to deal in absolutes. If someone drags someone off the street and forces sex on them, that’s rape. If someone aggressively and repeatedly tries to persuade an unwilling someone to have sex, that’s sexual harassment. (And if someone persistently tries to mount and/or ride someone, that’s Iason.) Obviously, too much forcefulness or persistence is wrong. However, as you throttle back on the forcefulness, persistence, corniness, and anything else that could possibly upset an object of your affection or desire, the point will come where the engine will stall. If one person can’t even hint at their feelings toward another, if everyone must be spared the stress and indignity of having to say or indicate “no thanks”, then what are we supposed to do? How can one get permission or approval if the very act of asking or offering requires prior permission or approval?
I am going to resist the temptation to go off into speculative fiction here. Also, I realise that I have stepped out into a very big and well trodden minefield. But I will fear no detonations, for I walk tall and have about me a company of reasoning beings (that’s you lot, by the way >:=).
For sure, if you are a wonderful physical specimen, you will probably receive more amorous attention than you’d like. If you are a physically dismal specimen, you will probably receive less amorous attention than you’d like. In both cases, the givers of this affection will not be seeing the real person inside the corporeal body. What can be done about this?
Also, being at work, in a position where one must default to politeness, does modify the terrain, from both sides. The employee will not be able to leave their post, and will be restrained from coming across themselves, even if they wish to. In some cases, colleagues and superiors will come to their aid and shoo the pest away. In some cases, the job carries with it an enhanced ability to stop seducers and flatterers. A bouncer at a club, for instance, would be able to do more than just deliver a verbal drubbing. True, bothering people at work is generally not a good idea, and should be avoided. But that’s not the same as having to reject someone because you never see them outside work. By the Counter Divided anyone?
Finally, none of us are perfect, here or in tWoMU. Jamie expressed an interest to an elf woman several times his age and was closed down. Iason hit him with full-on seduction and locked a stag bracelet around his wrist. Violet has been making free with her subtle arts. And on Mack’s side, Ian’s opening line makes Jamie seem like Casanova, and Ian’s friends were even worse. We can all try to improve ourselves, and avoid serious transgressions against courtesy and our fellow people, but in the absence of an oracle of love and relationships, we can only do our best. And we can’t count on beginner’s luck.
So back to you. If what Jamie did was wrong, when is it right? How should one go about starting loving or sexual relationships? I think most of the classic etiquette books ignore the person themselves, and direct you to ask their parents, or get your parents to ask their parents. (Assuming your parents don’t already have someone else in mind.) Who knows, this could be the start of something wonderful… The Collie Code – how to approach relationships without treading on toes.
@Laughing Collie:
I just thought I should point out that while you present a valid point, nobody has yet mentioned that women are just as capable of doing the same thing to men and nobody ever seems to consider that when lamenting the misogeny and chauvinism that women have to put up with. How’s that for a double standard?
Or is it misogyny? Seems like that would be more likely but it doesn’t look right. Viva la English language!
LOL!! I love it! Y’all are just awesome people, I mean where else can you go to see such interesting commentary? The internet is amazing. Love the stories, and just hope to keep reading…
BYES!!!
P.S.:EEEEEEEEEEEEK!
Can I have one?
I found it interesting that the historical shepards didn’t have enchanted crossbows and wards available. I suppose mass production would come with civilization, but I wonder what they used before that.
Jamie was not being mysogenistic here, not even rude. He was just doing what many guys are doing ever day and that most women take for granted: He was using his caveman brain.
In my admittedly limited experience guys who come on to you are not interested in you as a person but in having sex with you. The getting to know you happens later for them. Which is why it takes us a few dates generally to decide if we like somebody enough to continue. (that and the fact that we like to see what is on offer before making our choice
)
This does not mean that all men are like that and it means even less that most (or at least many) do not grow out of it, but at the age of college everybody has done growing up, but has still quite some maturing to do.
Jamie attempt at flirting was transparent, and slightly inappropriate in so far that it was not a location that suggested she was there in any other than professional capactiy. But when has that ever stopped men from flirting with the secretary or the waitress at a bar? Flirting does not deserve a slapdown, verbal or literal, just the reaction that he got. Jamie is delusional if he thinks that she has any interest in him, especially now he made clear he is more interested in the rider than in the dragons or her conservationist cause.
Eri
@Greenwood Goat:
LOL!
Re flirting, you have a good point. Mostly I think bugging someone like that when they’re at work — or any place where they are constrained to remain polite, friendly, and receptive, even if they very much would rather not be — is highly inappropriate. More context on your reference to something called “By the Counter Divided,” please? Google is not helping — is that a book or TV show?
“The Collie Code”? You’re delightful! Thanks for your lighthearted approach.
I will admit I’m likely more harsh on Jamie in text (since I can see his thinking) than I would be in real life — and when I was in college the first time, the concept of excited horny boys was far less tiresome than I find it now.
@Trihan: Thank you for your polite agreement re my valid point. Re double standards, actually I’ve mentioned previously how distasteful I find both Iason’s and Violet’s lack of boundaries when it comes to Jamie. I’ll point out again here, however (to be fair) that I have very strong personal boundaries due to being an animal trainer for many years. As a consequence I’ve noticed over the years that I put up with far less than many other folks around me. Diff’rent strokes, I guess.
@Erianaiel: Thank you for your clear presentation of your viewpoint. I think we’ll have to politely agree to disagree, since I feel Jamie was indeed rude. However, backreading my previous entry, I’ll admit “verbal drubbing” is probably a bit much in reaction to Jamie’s thoughtlessness — personal life irritations intruded there, sorry
.
From the reading I’ve done, what is euphemistically called the “caveman brain” is usually nothing more than what Freud referred to as the focus on selfishness and instant self-gratification he labeled the Id. We expect mature adults to attempt to self-control their Ids via their Super-Egos, you know? -assuming you’re a Freudian, of course. I think I may be more of a Jungian.
@laughingcollie 30, i got “feminist rage” from the fact that your arguments were feminist, and that you seem ANGRY. and while i agree that women should not have to deal with jackassery at work, let me repeat- go re-read what jamie actually said, not what he was thinking.
he didn’t ask her any personal questions, he asked about the *dragon.* ya know, her work. he probably did it in a very friendly way. but he makes it a point to ask her only appropriate questions, until the single solitary overtly flirtatious comment, which she declines and he walks away from.
he wasn’t harassing, she wasn’t a victim. get over it.
Poor Pala.
Marlot and Violet seem like oil and water to me… Marlot knows Vi is manipulative, and Vi knows Marlot knows… I just don’t see them ever getting along. At least not with Jamie between them.
Jamie is apparently like eggs: he’s a great emulsifier.
As a guy, I know that I generally look for some sign that a woman is taken/married when checking them out. Even if I don’t have any intention of speaking to them, I do it. You just get into the habit. And in such a world as this, where it is obviously not odd for someone to be 42 and look 18, you’d probly get into the habit even quicker. Maybe Jamie did just have sex on the brain, maybe he wanted a date, or maybe he just wanted to flirt. I’m going to guess it was that third one, given that he says “I wasn’t going to get anywhere with her in a single afternoon while she was working, but it didn’t hurt anything to get a little flirt on, see how far I could go.” I’ll admit, I do the exact same thing and I actually AM taken. In my experience, it’s not necessarily a way of getting in someone’s pants, it’s also a way of judging your own attractiveness based on the other person’s response. Jamie knows he’s attractive to gay men and to elves that are hypersexual by human standards. He knows he’s attractive to an elf-obsessed girl, and attractive enough as fantasy fodder for the psychic. Finally, he knows he can get some from a nymph. He really doesn’t have any good way to tell if the average female finds him attractive, as none of the aforementioned are average females. Why not start here in a situation that he knows is likely to stay non-sexual?
@40 Laughing Collie:
I did have serious doubts about whether anyone would get that reference, but decided to put it in anyway.
By the Sword Divided was a BBC television series set during the English Civil War. It was broadcast during the early eighties, and I have no idea whether it was ever syndicated outside the UK (though it is available as a DVD box set). I also have no idea whether it featured any romance across the divide, or whether it was even any good, as I never actually watched it. However, the trailers were run frequently during prime time, and its harpsichord-based theme tune leapt to my mind the moment I thought of the reference.
@43, hah. i stand corrected re:LC. if that is jamie’s line of thought then yes, he is using her as a sex toy and he’s a dick to do it while she’s as work.
i was going under the assumption that is actually interested in her, and that the “not getting anywhere in a single afternoon” comment was simple resignation, not an excuse strategy.
based on the fact that what actually came out of his mouth wasn’t offensive.
Greenwood Goat @44,
I don’t remember the title but US Public television ran a BBC series set during the English Civil War around that time. Probably the same show. As I recall, the story line followed a family whose (just) grown children embraced opposite sides.