"I'm not lyin' ta myself."
Chachanji's blows fell quick and unfocused on the striking dummy, still dwelling heavily upon what Mahana Mana had been saying back in the Quicksand. Just thinking about how she had insulted his Doman heritage - one of the few who even knew of such thanks to a slip of his tongue during his first couple suns within the Jewel. Back then, it had been a pair of strangers - a Roegadyn and a Miqo'te - that had come to his aid. He had been without their help this time, and had somehow managed to overcome his nervousness when confronted by her.
"It has feelin's!" he had stated, speaking of a Carbuncle that had been the target of the female Lalafell's ire. She had flippantly told its owner to dismiss it, as if it was no more than a thing. That had been what had started the argument, and led to the exchange that would set Chachan over the edge. "If'n it's made from a part'a his personality, then his feelin's are in it. So it has feelin's."
"They are imitations of feelings," she had countered flatly. "Not real ones."
"'n how're they any less real?" She had actually provided a few solid reasons, but Chachanji was just being childishly indignant at this point. He simply refused to let a "meanie" like Mahana be in the right about anything. "I bet ya don't think Gran ain't got no feelin's neither."
"... Well, I guess they are more real than what remains of your country. However..."
That lingering nervousness that had gripped him, that childish petulance that had led to this argument, all of it had quickly been replaced with anger at those words. The unfeeling manner to which she described the razing of Doma, her continued persistence that he was lying to himself about... something that she would never straight up name. It had caused something to snap within him and brought out a childish fury that he hadn't given voice to since he got into that argument with his father way back when. He decried her as a bully, a jerk, a meanie who used harsh words to hurt others for her own amusement. The fact that she didn't even seem to react or care about his immature outbursts just upset him further.
Ultimately, he had cut his losses and stomped out like a child who had been sent to his room. He had used the excuse of talking Gran for his afternoon walk to get away from the frustrating Lalafell female and her entourage, and had been true to his word. He did indeed take the little baby behemoth outside the walls of Ul'dah, past the collection of ramshackle tents, and down to the riverbed for their post-run cooldown and play. Yet, Chachanji continued to replay the argument over and over in his mind, kicking angrily at the water rather than playfully splashing as he normally would.
When he finally realized that splashing around in the river wasn't helping, he sullenly made his way back to the city. He trudged his way back into the Quicksand, his narrowed violet eyes actively scanning for Mahana, his childish glare daring her to still be there so that he could shout at her some more. For better or for worse, he failed to catch sight of her, and thus made his angry little march back to his room in the Hourglass with little issue.
He still couldn't settle down, though, and that's how he ended up here in the Gladiator's Guild, beating up a defenseless training dummy in order to get his anger out. Again and again, his self-forged blade clanged against the dummy's motionless form, the sound merging with the other sounds of training around him. His face was scrunched, his cheeks flushed so that his freckles looked all the more prominent against his lightly tanned skin, and seemed to be desperately trying to hold back tears.
"You do realize that Doma was razed by the Garleans, yes?"
Of course he knew. He slapped sloppily at the training dummy some more. He was there when they refugees had come to Ul'dah seeking sanctuary, had seen his parents and his older sister along with the rest of them. Hell, he had almost gotten dragged off with them when the city turned them away at the gates. It had only been Ms. Momodi's insistence that he had been there beforehand, and as an adventurer no less, that had kept him from being shipped off to Mor Dhona like the rest.
"And you no longer have anything to return to."
"Doma is gone. Your family may be fine here as refugees, but it is gone."
A harsh screech of metal on metal pierced the normal din of the Gladiator's Guild. Chachanji had slammed his shield against the unwitting training dummy, dragging it back off only to bring it back around and bash at it again. A few of the closer gladiators winced at the sound, moving away to resume their training where the noise would assault their ears less.
She was wrong! he silently seethed. Doma still lived! As long as its people endured, as long as his family was alive, there was still a Doma - and there was still a place he could go home to.
"Then you're not only stubborn, but a fool too..."
"I. Am. NOT!" Each word was punctuated by another clash of either shield or blade against the stalwart form set in front of him. The others in the Guild were just glad he wasn't causing that scraping sound anymore. "I'm NOT!"
"Go on, be offended. People mean little to me," she had stated calmly, with a slight shrug to her shoulders. "If you want kind, loving people, go to Gridania."
Maybe he would! he thought bitterly as he cut a minor gash into the side of the dummy. He had gone there for some training in the ways of Conjury at the behest of Ms. Artemis and her friends. He had arrived in time to behold a celebration for Nophica, and enjoyed music and stories in the grass by the Botanist's Guild. Deep down, though, he knew doing that would just make her the victor - that she had succeeded in chasing out the "lowly, homeless Doman." And his childish heart just couldn't allow that.
"I'm sorry again." There hadn't been even a modicum of empathy or kindness in that statement, it was merely the precursor to a backhanded comment. "That the truth is offensive to you."
"She's wrong! She's wrong, she's wrong, she's WRONG!" It was a mantra to him at this point as he continued his directionless assault. He had shouted things back at her then - belittling her words, calling her a bully and a jerk once again, challenging her to hide behind her concept of "truth" again. Instead, she made as if she hadn't even been paying attention, and that had just infuriated him further. It was then he had fled, that he had made his egress that had ended up where he was now: venting bodily on a training dummy.
"I'm not a fool!"
Crash!
"I'm NOT stubborn!"
Clang!
"Doma is NOT gone!"
Bang!
"I... I still have a home."
Thud.
His shield smacked dully against the dummy, followed by the young Lalafell leaning weakly into it. He stayed there for a while, motionless against the training dummy beyond an occasional shudder. If one could make it out over the sounds of the other gladiators that had long since returned to their own training, one might have heard the muffled sound of sobbing.
Chachanji's blows fell quick and unfocused on the striking dummy, still dwelling heavily upon what Mahana Mana had been saying back in the Quicksand. Just thinking about how she had insulted his Doman heritage - one of the few who even knew of such thanks to a slip of his tongue during his first couple suns within the Jewel. Back then, it had been a pair of strangers - a Roegadyn and a Miqo'te - that had come to his aid. He had been without their help this time, and had somehow managed to overcome his nervousness when confronted by her.
"It has feelin's!" he had stated, speaking of a Carbuncle that had been the target of the female Lalafell's ire. She had flippantly told its owner to dismiss it, as if it was no more than a thing. That had been what had started the argument, and led to the exchange that would set Chachan over the edge. "If'n it's made from a part'a his personality, then his feelin's are in it. So it has feelin's."
"They are imitations of feelings," she had countered flatly. "Not real ones."
"'n how're they any less real?" She had actually provided a few solid reasons, but Chachanji was just being childishly indignant at this point. He simply refused to let a "meanie" like Mahana be in the right about anything. "I bet ya don't think Gran ain't got no feelin's neither."
"... Well, I guess they are more real than what remains of your country. However..."
That lingering nervousness that had gripped him, that childish petulance that had led to this argument, all of it had quickly been replaced with anger at those words. The unfeeling manner to which she described the razing of Doma, her continued persistence that he was lying to himself about... something that she would never straight up name. It had caused something to snap within him and brought out a childish fury that he hadn't given voice to since he got into that argument with his father way back when. He decried her as a bully, a jerk, a meanie who used harsh words to hurt others for her own amusement. The fact that she didn't even seem to react or care about his immature outbursts just upset him further.
Ultimately, he had cut his losses and stomped out like a child who had been sent to his room. He had used the excuse of talking Gran for his afternoon walk to get away from the frustrating Lalafell female and her entourage, and had been true to his word. He did indeed take the little baby behemoth outside the walls of Ul'dah, past the collection of ramshackle tents, and down to the riverbed for their post-run cooldown and play. Yet, Chachanji continued to replay the argument over and over in his mind, kicking angrily at the water rather than playfully splashing as he normally would.
When he finally realized that splashing around in the river wasn't helping, he sullenly made his way back to the city. He trudged his way back into the Quicksand, his narrowed violet eyes actively scanning for Mahana, his childish glare daring her to still be there so that he could shout at her some more. For better or for worse, he failed to catch sight of her, and thus made his angry little march back to his room in the Hourglass with little issue.
He still couldn't settle down, though, and that's how he ended up here in the Gladiator's Guild, beating up a defenseless training dummy in order to get his anger out. Again and again, his self-forged blade clanged against the dummy's motionless form, the sound merging with the other sounds of training around him. His face was scrunched, his cheeks flushed so that his freckles looked all the more prominent against his lightly tanned skin, and seemed to be desperately trying to hold back tears.
"You do realize that Doma was razed by the Garleans, yes?"
Of course he knew. He slapped sloppily at the training dummy some more. He was there when they refugees had come to Ul'dah seeking sanctuary, had seen his parents and his older sister along with the rest of them. Hell, he had almost gotten dragged off with them when the city turned them away at the gates. It had only been Ms. Momodi's insistence that he had been there beforehand, and as an adventurer no less, that had kept him from being shipped off to Mor Dhona like the rest.
"And you no longer have anything to return to."
"Doma is gone. Your family may be fine here as refugees, but it is gone."
A harsh screech of metal on metal pierced the normal din of the Gladiator's Guild. Chachanji had slammed his shield against the unwitting training dummy, dragging it back off only to bring it back around and bash at it again. A few of the closer gladiators winced at the sound, moving away to resume their training where the noise would assault their ears less.
She was wrong! he silently seethed. Doma still lived! As long as its people endured, as long as his family was alive, there was still a Doma - and there was still a place he could go home to.
"Then you're not only stubborn, but a fool too..."
"I. Am. NOT!" Each word was punctuated by another clash of either shield or blade against the stalwart form set in front of him. The others in the Guild were just glad he wasn't causing that scraping sound anymore. "I'm NOT!"
"Go on, be offended. People mean little to me," she had stated calmly, with a slight shrug to her shoulders. "If you want kind, loving people, go to Gridania."
Maybe he would! he thought bitterly as he cut a minor gash into the side of the dummy. He had gone there for some training in the ways of Conjury at the behest of Ms. Artemis and her friends. He had arrived in time to behold a celebration for Nophica, and enjoyed music and stories in the grass by the Botanist's Guild. Deep down, though, he knew doing that would just make her the victor - that she had succeeded in chasing out the "lowly, homeless Doman." And his childish heart just couldn't allow that.
"I'm sorry again." There hadn't been even a modicum of empathy or kindness in that statement, it was merely the precursor to a backhanded comment. "That the truth is offensive to you."
"She's wrong! She's wrong, she's wrong, she's WRONG!" It was a mantra to him at this point as he continued his directionless assault. He had shouted things back at her then - belittling her words, calling her a bully and a jerk once again, challenging her to hide behind her concept of "truth" again. Instead, she made as if she hadn't even been paying attention, and that had just infuriated him further. It was then he had fled, that he had made his egress that had ended up where he was now: venting bodily on a training dummy.
"I'm not a fool!"
Crash!
"I'm NOT stubborn!"
Clang!
"Doma is NOT gone!"
Bang!
"I... I still have a home."
Thud.
His shield smacked dully against the dummy, followed by the young Lalafell leaning weakly into it. He stayed there for a while, motionless against the training dummy beyond an occasional shudder. If one could make it out over the sounds of the other gladiators that had long since returned to their own training, one might have heard the muffled sound of sobbing.
