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It’d been a week or so since Isabeau (and everyone else) discovered that Siffrin was, well… not a human. In retrospect, certain things made sense now! Like Siffrin refusing to bathe with everyone else yet always being clean, the near uncanny way they seemed almost too fast to notice people and Sadnesses, Isabeau’s own mysteriously self-refilling portions of food…
And them always offering to be the one to watch Bonbon if people wanted to go drinking, such as tonight.
The bar was noisy, but not overwhelming. Loud enough to talk without being overheard, but not so much that you’d have to shout. Isabeau and Odile were tucked into a little booth in the corner. Usually they were both the type to sit at the bar itself, but he had something he wanted to ask that required some amount of privacy, Siffrin being gone, and a bit of liquid courage. Even as the alcohol started to warm his cheeks, he could still feel the urge to just run. This was, at best, insensitive, at worst outright racist… speciest? Point was, this wasn’t going to be comfortable at best, but he needed to know.
He needed to know before he could go any further. Needed to know before he maybe did something he couldn’t take back.
“Hey… M’dame?” Isabeau said. He threw back a shot of something particularly strong. No wine savoring tonight!
“Yes?” Odile said, sipping her own drink.
Say it. Say it now before you chicken out again. “Do spirits have free will?”
The look of sheer bafflement would’ve been hilarious in any other context, but right now? Isabeau was pretty sure he’d majorly stepped in it.
Odile let out a long sigh and massaged the bridge of her nose. “I need more alcohol for this.” She took a trip to the bar just long enough for Isabeau to start muttering swears under his breath and almost commit to just hiding under the table. Apparently it must’ve shown on his face because Odile laughed, tugging him to sit back up properly.
“Isabeau, any particular reason you’re wanting to discuss in depth philosophy at a bar? Might it be related to why you’re making an old woman walk to get her alcohol?”
“Oh, crab, sorry M’dame! We can-”
“Oh hush, I’m only teasing you.” She clinked her glass against Isabeau’s and took a drink. “Aaaaah… hits the spot. Is this about Siffrin then?”
Isabeau flinched from how quickly she’d brought it up.
“I see. You really are hopeless, aren’t you?”
Hmmm, maybe this was a bad idea for even MORE reasons than he thought! Reasons such as he might just die of shame on the spot. Or get teased forever. He tried to answer, but only a tea kettle sound came out.
“Hit the nail on the head, I see.” Odile took another long sip, never breaking eye contact with him. She was smirking at him! “Well, you’ve started pretty broad, and afraid philosophy isn’t my field of research. Care to be more specific?”
Oh boy. Why did this feel worse, actually? His heart was hammering in his chest, and even the encroaching haze of alcohol couldn’t seem to slow it. Not that he’d had much, didn’t want to be too drunk for this…
“Can… can spirits, um. Love?”
Odile looked thoroughly unimpressed. “Gems alive, yes , Isabeau. Yes they can.”
“But, like! I, um, haven’t met many spirits except Sadnesses. Maybe a ghost or two? All of them seem pretty, uh, brainless? Or just doing their one thing forever and ever? I mean, I’m a Defender. It’s, like, not my whole job, but part of my job is helping those things pass on, y’know?” He gestured to knuckles he only realized afterwards he wasn’t currently wearing.
Like all their equipment, his were crafted in some way or another to help deal with Sadnesses, though they still worked in the normal way as well. Big, friendly guy like him, he channeled some cheering through his! Can’t be a Sadness if you’re being punched happy!
Odile nodded slowly. “No, that’s right. Vaugaurdians don’t have many spirits around, do you? Or ghosts for that matter.”
“Well, yeah! Can’t just let ‘em stagnate. Gotta move on and reincarnate.”
“Can’t say I agree, but to each their own,” Odile said, taking another sip of her drink. “But what, exactly, is the issue here? Siffrin clearly isn’t mindless.”
“Yeah, but, like…” Oh he knew he was about to sound even stupider than most people assumed he was. “Don’t spirits, like, just do their one thing? Aren’t they, like, stagnant?”
“Hmm… yes and no,” Odile said. She swirled her drink in her hand, looking into it. “Their natures are different than ours, yes, but you could argue there’s some things about humans that are equally immutable, and some things equally common. I mean, we all have to eat and drink water. We’re generally social creatures, and we’re the only known animal species to regularly cook our food. Plus do you even know how many variations of fried bread exist? Or how many times humans separately invented some kind of pointy stick or another?”
“Well, when you put it like that…” It still didn’t answer the first question though. “But, like… can they love? The way people do?”
Odile chuckled. “Not even all people love the same ways. And for the record, there’s so much variance between subspecies of spirits that, well, unless he tells us what he is, I can’t even begin to answer that. Some spirits are metaphysically born of love in one form or another, some of lust, and others might be so far removed they wouldn’t understand the concept. Clearly Siffrin has a mind though, and seems more human than most…” she added with a grumble, “or at least is skilled at pretending he is.”
“And is that… bad?”
“Hard to say. Maybe. Most wouldn’t bother with it unless they’re a trickster of some sort…”
“Madame, don’t tell me you think they’re an assassin again…”
“It’s not off the table! But I doubt it. Besides, tricksters are, by their nature, tricky. Smarter and more rational than most. It would explain the love of puns and pranks. But they’re also well known for hating authority, and if the country’s frozen, not really anything to trick. No frustration to feed off of.”
“Spirits feed?”
Odile scrutinized him for a few very long seconds then sighed. “Gems alive, you’re not joking.” She finished off her drink and set it on the table. “Yes. Spirits eat. Somewhat. Not the same way we do, but have you heard the phrase, ‘Speak of the Evil?’ Spirits get stronger from attention, in one way or another. Tastes vary, of course. You can’t exactly made a Sadness so happy or relaxed that it gets stronger, after all. But you can usually tell what they’re trying to get from you based on how they act. If you like the taste of happiness, you’re more likely to try to please people, and if you thrive on anger, it does well to get on people’s nerves. Though, admittedly, that’s a fairly basic explanation, but I’m too tipsy to try to explain the full spectrum of ritual and intricacy and rules and metaphysical nonsense and the ways our thoughts shape their existence and vice versa.”
Oh… oh. That… hmm.
“So… the way people around them feel affects them?” Could his not-so-little crush force Siffrin to reciprocate? “So if I like him, then…”
“Isabeau.” She reached over and flicked his forehead. “Humans do that too. And dogs. And cats. You’re describing literally every somewhat social species ever.”
“Yeah, but I don’t want to MAKE him Change or do something if he doesn’t want to!”
“And you won’t. It’s, hmm… It’s a chicken or egg thing. Or Ouroboros, maybe. Does Ka Bue have more spirits because we revere them, or do we revere them because there’s so many? Do we think of kitsune as tricky because they are, or are they tricky because we think of them that way? Do helpful spirits help because we expect them to, or do we expect them to because they already do? Answer is, probably both. A self-reinforcing cycle that’ll keep going until something forces it to Change and adapt, and that’s much easier than you Vaugaurdians seem to think given that there’s a billion or so things that can happen.”
Isabeau nodded. That made sense! Not forcing something to change any more than life usually did, just helping build up what’s already there, right? At least it sounded like it.
“Thanks M’dame.”
“Of course. I might tease you mercilessly for this, but you can’t know what you weren’t told. Better to ask me than hurt yourself and Siffrin, yes? That said, wait another few weeks, will you? I’ve got a bet with Boniface.”
“M’DAME?!”
Odile laughed all too long as Isabeau fake-sobbed, face ever so red as he lamented until he, too, ended up laughing loud enough to bounce off the bar.
He still had more questions, but cornering Odile seemed rude! Besides… he wasn’t sure if he’d like the answers.
Coward.
The night was spent with a lot of laughs, and drinking just enough to temporarily forget all that lingering awkwardness and a good amount of what happened later.
And if later, after Isabeau stumbled into their room at the inn, gloved fingers threaded through his hair, sadly he wouldn’t remember that either.