Chapter Text
Changbai flopped onto his bed.
“Oh my moons, my back…”
The bedsprings creaked as the full weight of his pale body was thrown onto the twin-sized mattress.
“… fuuuuck, dude…”
Changbai struggled to fully stretch out his back.
All that piano practice hadn’t exactly had the greatest effect on the health of his spine.
Changbai groaned as he felt the familiar onset of pain that came from relaxing your back after a long period of tension, before it slowly started to subside as he was able to relax further.
He revelled slightly in the momentary sensation of relief that finally resting had brought him, before immediately reaching over towards his bedside table to grab his phone.
After all, what better way was there to spend a restful evening than a couple of hours of screen time?
Changbai laid on the right side of his body — his favourite position to do so — and positioned his arm just rightly so for maximum scrolling potential.
He then pressed a thumbpad against the phone’s touch sensor and unlocked the device.
A red notification badge perched itself pronouncedly along the corner of Rapigraph’s app icon.
Changbai promptly tapped on it to open it up.
10 accounts you follow added to their story for the first time in a while.
Rapigraph was probably one of the most popular social media apps these days, especially common among the younger, school-age generation such as Changbai and his peers.
Not that older dragons didn’t use it, of course, but it seemed especially suited to cater to the thing that adolescents are most concerned with:
Comparison.
Likes, story views, follower counts, close friends lists — all manner of numbers by which to measure one’s own social success, with an entire system of etiquette about what you should and shouldn’t do in certain situations surrounding each one.
For example:
Like the post of a close friend that tagged you by your personal handle? Mandatory.
Like the post of a close friend that didn’t tag you because there were no photos of you? Expected, but not mandatory.
Like the post of a close friend that didn’t tag you even though there were photos of you in the post? No way (in fact, that probably warranted a possible passive-aggressive DM).
And that wasn’t even accounting for whether they tagged your main or your spam account, or “Frapi,” as some would call it.
Changbai, though, mostly preferred to stay away from all that social drama.
Instead, he mostly opted to simply have enough of an online presence to seem relatively normal, without actually needing to care too much about what kind of an image or appearance he maintained on social media.
And in accordance with that, Changbai had only a few actual permanent posts up on his account at the moment.
All of them were to celebrate something actually significant, rather than being frivolous in nature (that was reserved for Frapis, after all).
And in each post, very few of the uploaded photos actually featured Changbai’s own appearance.
It wasn’t like Changbai considered himself ugly, or anything like that, but it wasn’t like he wanted to exactly broadcast himself (or his life in general) for the entire Rapigraph user base to potentially see, either.
Again, he preferred just to stay away from any kind of social norms that he had the potential of violating, and just not post enough to need to think about them at all.
Thus, his Rapigraph posts in general, and especially the ones that actually had photos of himself in them, were few and very far between.
See 10 unviewed stories from following
Changbai first tapped on the story of the Jade Mountain Academy’s dedicated Rapigraph account.
Contrary to its official name and profile picture, the JMA Rapi was actually managed by the social media arm of the student council, since none of the founders could be bothered to learn all the sometimes-unlearnable intricacies of making posts that actually appealed to adolescents.
The account was still verified and all that, though, so it did still officially represent the Academy as an institution.
An announcement to students (very important!!):
Please advise your family to send NON-PERISHABLE food items to the mailing centre ONLY!!!
Thank you for your cooperation! :)
Ah.
The story was quite simple, using nothing but the default Rapigraph font in a few text fields layered atop an abstract patterned background.
It did get its job done as an announcement succinctly and precisely, though, which was quite respectable.
And at least it didn’t contain any typos, like the Headmistress’s own announcements tended to do.
Changbai wondered whether Barracuda had ever managed to convince his family to stop sending raw food before swiping away to view the next story.
The next one was from Ostrich, who was actually rather active in as far as posting on Rapigraph was concerned.
Again, she was a rather popular dragon, so it made sense that she would be.
HELP IMPOVERISHED COMMUNITIES IN THE SOUTHERN DESERTS
Donate using this link!
The Southern Sands Foundation ->
@southernsandsofficial
This story was a repost of another account’s post, evidenced by the original poster’s handle being included in the bottom corner of Ostrich’s own story.
It didn’t exactly seem like something Ostrich herself would write, anyway.
Sure, she was obviously quite politically proactive, at least social media-wise, but it had still obviously come from some sort of organisation specifically dedicated to helping those communities they were asking for donations on behalf of.
The background of the story was an image of some sort of refugee camp or other informal community, which had been set up somewhere in the deserts of the Sand Kingdom.
Presumably the southern ones, if Changbai had to guess.
Clearly, the dragons there were suffering materially, and had probably had to move there in order to escape some sort of violence or other difficult conditions in their ancestral lands and villages.
Changbai’s emotional reaction to such scenes of abject dragon plight had mostly been numbed over the years, though, just because there were so many pictures of them out there on the Internet, with an equal number of calls to donate to some cause that would help those dragons to boot.
He didn’t exactly have any money to give right now, anyway, since his parents didn’t actually give him an allowance (his mother told him that paying for his campus meal plan was an allowance enough).
It also wasn’t like he had the time to really go out and find a job, either.
And so, just like so many other privileged, globally-speaking-quite-affluent little dragonets in his same position, he simply swiped away in order to view the next story.
After a few more stories of various miscellaneous affairs in various other dragons’ lives (including 2 more reposts by Pronghorn and Barracuda of the same Southern Sands donation request), Changbai eventually arrived at the 9th and 10th stories on the list.
Alba and Ermine.
The other 2 IceWings who were both original to Jade Mountain’s initial enrollment roster, and also actually still attending the Academy.
After all, the whole situation with Prince Winter and his sister, the royal formerly known as Princess Icicle, had ultimately left a considerable dent in the school’s original IceWing population.
In spite of their shared heritage, though, Changbai had never really become friends with either Alba or Ermine, and he also happened not to share very many classes with either one.
But, still, they at least followed each other on Rapigraph nonetheless.
Changbai opened Alba’s story first, solely because it was the one that happened to appear first.
“Reports of apparent bigotry are now on the rise as a new meaning is attributed to a once-innocuous hand gesture. On Warble, IceWing users across Pyrrhia are crying foul as a so-called ‘symbolic dog whistle’ is beginning to gain popularity among NightWing ethnonationalist circles.”
This story was also a repost from another account, but this time the original post was a reel, or a short video that Rapi users could create or upload at their discretion.
This one seemed to be a clip from a SkyWing news broadcast, one whose parent outlet was particularly known internationally for being a relatively apolitical and reliable source of information.
The presenter stared at the camera as she spoke, her ever-stoic expression only serving to underscore that specific, exaggerated TV-news-esque rising and falling of tone, and a crisp, practised articulation.
“The lunar salute, a somewhat widespread NightWing hand sign where the signer cups their claws and holds them together to form the shape of a circle, has conventionally been known as a sign of respect, as it symbolises the noble and powerful nature of the moons they are meant to portray.”
Wait, what?
Changbai immediately sat up completely straight from the position he was laying in, then gave a yelp of pain as some muscle stretched in his back.
He slowly laid himself back down onto his bed as a troubled expression immediately began to cloud his face.
“However, the salute has recently taken on a much darker meaning: that of NightWing supremacy over other tribes, especially in the context of the longstanding history of prejudice between themselves and the IceWing tribe. NightWing tribal ultranationalists have begun to display the symbol and several of its alternate forms at neo-Darkstalkerist political rallies, as well as made heavy use of its virtual form, shown here, on social media as a discreet signal to others who share their supremacist beliefs.”
A large, bold pair of ( ) parentheses faded into contrast, on the background screen behind the presenter.
“While some argue that these extremists, in spite of representing a non-insignificant portion of the overall NightWing population, have simply appropriated the lunar salute — suggesting that the gesture has not actually lost its original, non-racist meaning — others disagree, stating that the very association of the salute with NightWing nationalism is enough to justify banning its exhibition from public spaces entirely. It doesn’t help that the nationalists themselves claim that this has actually always been the true meaning of the gesture, referencing controversial interpretations of traditional origin myths stating that the moon goddesses designated NightWings as ‘the sacred tribe.’”
Changbai slowly felt his jaw drop lower and lower as the presenter droned on.
“No matter what you might think of the real meaning of the salute, however, it is undeniable that this growing minority of NightWing supremacist voices will leave the true intentions of any future users of the gesture ever in-question, with IceWings in particular being warned by many to stay alert and aware of any potential dog whistles or other signals of discrimination. After all, as many anti-racist pundits on Warble will tell you, it’s often those with seemingly the kindest intentions that make for the most effectively subversive hatred.”
And then, the reel ended, and Changbai was thrown back to the Rapigraph UI’s default user homepage.
…
Changbai stared at his screen for just a moment, before slowly moving to open Ermine’s story.
It was the same repost of the same reel, from the same news broadcast’s official Rapigraph account, though it was actually cropped a bit differently from before.
Despite this slight change in visuals, however, Changbai still found that this sense of utter dumbfoundedness continued to linger.
And so he again continued to stare at his screen, processing this 1 minute and 22 seconds’ worth of new information.
…
Eventually, though, he managed to snap out of it, and immediately flopped back flat onto his back as he was embroiled in thought.
So this entire time, the salute he’d just been so recently introduced to was actually a hate symbol??
And against IceWings, who were his own tribe??
And nobody had bothered to tell him?!
What the fuck, man?!
Changbai immediately remembered the initial lakeside conversation with Fearless, where he had first learned about the supposed respectful meaning of this foreign gesture.
How it had supposedly been a friendly, interesting exchange of cross-cultural dialogue.
“It’s a symbol of worth and honour in our culture.”
And soon after, the indescribable mix of emotions that constituted betrayal radiated out, from his heart to the pits of his stomach.
What a load of fucking bullshit that explanation was!
Had everything about that relay race been nothing more than a façade??
Changbai had done practically every single thing about that interaction right — accommodated her clawmate’s wishes, acted perfectly willing to cooperate with her, even risked triggering his own condition just so that Fearless could have a little bit more of a fair chance in their competition.
And what had Fearless done in return?
Been fake as fuck, that was what, and introduced him to a gesture she knew he wouldn’t have the context around as a symbol of their supposed “friendship” and “mutual respect.”
Oh, moons, he should have fucking known…
Even though it had happened a while ago by now, Changbai now felt a hot blush rising to his cheeks and ears as he realised that he’d probably been embarrassing himself hardcore by acknowledging and reciprocating Fearless’s usage of the lunar salute.
In fact, knowing her, that had probably been the point — just to see Changbai humiliate himself, showing respect for and imitating a racist dog whistle against his own tribe like a damned idiot who didn’t know any better.
Which, in this instance, maybe he was.
Changbai then suddenly remembered his mother’s words to him in their video call the day before.
“Their tribe are experts at spinning lies. Horrible, horrible lies, that will convince you until they end up stabbing you in the back.”
Horrible, horrible lies…
“And even if you don’t feel any reason to hate them, remember that they all still hate us.”
Was that… all really true?
Just the day before, Changbai had dismissed pretty much everything his mother had told him as nothing more than obviously racist, propaganda nonsense.
And well, even now, it still wasn’t like he believed most of the more bigoted stuff Khingan said.
After all, it wasn’t like the right answer to bigotry was gonna be more bigotry, right?
At the same time, though, remembering all that openness he’d just been starting to feel towards NightWings, and how that had immediately just retroactively blown up in his face…
And especially someone like Fearless, who had just a year ago been part of the effort to exterminate his own entire tribe?
It just…
It made him feel kinda stupid, was all.
Stupid, and highkey kinda angry, too.
As much as Fearless as at himself for his own stupidity.
Like, somehow, he’d let his guard down, when it was really his own responsibility to have learned from the last time.
“Their tribe are experts at spinning lies. Horrible, horrible lies…”
…
Well, the jokes were on Fearless, since now, Changbai knew better.
He knew better than to ever allow himself to fall into that false sense of optimism again.
He knew better than to believe that he, somebody so utterly unexceptional, could ever be some embodiment of idealistic, progressive social justice or change.
He knew better than to ever make the mistake of trusting another dragon so openly like that again.
Honestly, it wasn’t even really about the lunar salute anymore — he just couldn’t let himself get betrayed like that ever again, and, well, statistically, who was most likely to want to betray an IceWing like him?
Changbai would show Fearless what being “culturally aware” really meant.
And so, with a newfound vigour driving his still-hurting heart, Changbai rose fiercely from upon his mattress, and jumped down to the floor in preparation for a confident walk-
“OW!”
Changbai yelped as the knots of his muscles suddenly radiated pain.
A familiar one, at that, the kind that he should probably have been wary of with how long he’d been sitting in that awkward, hunched-over-the-phone-screen position.
Changbai groaned and sucked air through his teeth painfully, rubbing at the spot along his calf that was still clenching itself involuntarily.
“Fuck, dude, I hate cramps…”