The Next Day

[hecu_marine]

It's the day after arriving in the village. The trolls' hunt was successful, the reaction spectacular. Jecinaldo met with each of the Americans separately and then had an extended sit-down with Mari, of which Mari does not particularly intend to speak. Other discussions were had and other things were handled, and ultimately everything was set up to happen the next day.

When you have the better part of a Satere-Mawe village gathered around the town's common meeting area to see five young men pass the ant rite for the twenty-fourth time, there's a certain anticipatory atmosphere to the event. It's only mildly disrupted by the pointing and murmuring caused by two non-Brazilian white people and two Alternian trolls making their way up to the place.

This is gonna get interesting.

Comments

[donthidemycigs]

Village life starts early. It's a routine Dr. Grace Augustine is already conditioned to, so during the hours leading up to the ant rite she's making the best use of her time by interacting with the rest of the village. It's been a long time since she was a bright-eyed college kid soaking in everything about the Kaingang, Sateré-Mawé, and Baniwa (longer than she'd ever admit; Grace is just a particularly mature thirty years of age, and anyone who contests that deserves the lesson in self-preservation they'll get). There's a lot she's let slip her mind, and things are different in this Earth and time than in hers. It's all worth studying.

But there's only so much she can collect samples of, and as interesting as the stories the elders are relating are, there's no way in hell she's going to miss the chance to support Shephard. By "support", of course we mean sit and laugh while he gets the shit stung out of him. She'll keep the sarcastic comments to a minimum, but only because she wouldn't want to disrespect the Mawe or their customs, and the boys who are going through the rite with him deserve her consideration.

Still, she beams a "Good luck" at him. If she were younger (than a very mature thirty years old), she'd be right there beside him. But her hands are too precious to her right now to risk the ill effects of the bullet ant poison.

Let's face it, she's more up for partaking in the local narcotic than any public flagellation.

[hecu_marine]

Shephard's been doing his own preparations since a little before dawn anyway. Under normal circumstances back home he'd've been going out for a run with a backpack full of rocks, possibly with his gas mask strapped to his face, but this isn't his territory and he doesn't know the trails, so he's not about to do something stupid. That freed up a nice chunk of time for him to sit with the village's shaman and discuss exactly what was going to happen. (Apparently some of the outsiders who came to the village to escape the Combine thought some kind of vision quest was going to be involved, which... was not the point at all.)

So now that it's actually time he's more or less as ready as he's going to get. Predictably, he sticks out like a sore thumb, between being the wrong size, color, age, and so on; somewhat less predictably, he's wearing a pair of denim cutoff shorts, and still has his elbow length black glove on his right arm. Some of the younger men wave in his direction as he steps into the open space and removes his shoes; he waves back.

Mari, for his part, is hanging back with Grace and the trolls. "This should be interesting," he murmurs.

[donthidemycigs]

Grace heartily agrees. "There's a song from Earth history that I damn well wish I could play for the occasion."

Which song? It should be noted that she hasn't stopped sniggering since first meeting back up with Shephard and seeing those denim cutoffs. Further clues present themselves when she shouts, "Hey, Shephard! Don't forget to do your little turn on the catwalk."

This may be the only time in history you can see Grace Augustine shake her tush. Unless Shep brings those cutoffs back to the bar with him. Then it will become customary, along with every playing of I'm Too Sexy. Wouldn't Trudy be amused.

[hecu_marine]

Shephard just rolls his eyes; it's not even worth dusting off his vocabulary at this point. "I got my reasons," he calls back, and points to where the shaman and his assistant are coming in with the gloves for the young men. There's one pair that... doesn't really look very much like gloves at all.

"Ants ain't stupid enough to bite metal, so they made me boots instead."

[donthidemycigs]

"Still, you could have gone with shorts," she says. "But I respect your fashion choices. It says there's a man who doesn't give a fuck what anybody thinks. And it just emphasizes how damn old you are compared to me."

He could remark on the college tee she's wearing, but chances are high she'd just ignore him.

[hecu_marine]

"Use what you got, ma'am. Ain't like nobody's gon' be payin' attention to nothin' but the dancing nohow." He glances over at the trolls. "You two doin' all right? They're gonna bring out the drum next."

[nepetaleijon]

"We're good!" Nepeta beams, waving from where she's sitting with Kanaya. "Just waiting to s33 the fun."

Yes. Fun.

[hecu_marine]

Shephard grins crookedly. "I ain't been around here long enough to learn their dance moves," he allows. "So they told me, I wanna do this, I got to keep up a real good rhythm on the drum instead for them to dance to."

Sure enough, one of the other village men comes out with a reasonably lap-sized drum for Shephard to work with. Not like he's going to be able to brace it between his knees with the ant boots on, after all.

[bloodyvirgo]

Kanaya shoots Shephard an encouraging smile.

"We're Sure You'll Do Wonderfully, Shephard."

[hecu_marine]

"That's the general plan," says Shephard. "Any of y'all got anything else to say, best you say it now, 'cause I don't git to talk once I git the signal to start."

[donthidemycigs]

Grace puts that toothy grin away just long enough to hold up her hands in surrender, and zip her mouth shut. Judging by the glint in her eye, that zipper won't stay shut very long, but it's the thought that counts.

Hey, after they start, he'll probably need something to focus on. The jackass must have silver balls, too.

[hecu_marine]

He nods and experimentally taps on the drum just to make sure it's got the right sound; then he looks over to the shaman and nods again. Time for the boots, just as soon as they get the gloves on the young men. And time for him to start pounding away on the drum, because until this rite is over this is the only way he gets to let the pain out. Fortunately, he comes from a long tradition of drummers given over to truly epic solos.

He might not have silver balls, but he's got metal in his soul. That ought to count for something.