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People, as Varka came to notice, were way too easy to deceive. They’d accept everything as long as it fit even vaguely into their own expectations. He could only speculate about the cause of such self-deception, but he assumed that most people simply didn’t bother to look for the truth when there was an acceptable alternative that was way easier to swallow.
It was the only explanation why someone like Kyryll Chudomirovich Flins passed as a human being.
Humanity, so Varka believed, must be willingly blind. And deaf.
The first thing he noticed was the fact that, even though Flins ate and drank, it seemed to be irrelevant what exactly it was he consumed. Varka had witnessed how a little stone in Flins’ food was swallowed without hesitation. To test his theory, Varka used to smuggle nails and other stuff into Flins’ food. He never seemed to notice. Once he even put petroleum into his water and it didn’t coax a grimace out of Flins. This was Varka’s proof that Flins either had no sense of smell and taste altogether or it didn’t matter at all what he consumed. (Further proof would be his habit of feeding food into his lantern instead of eating it, when he thought nobody was looking).
But his weird eating habits weren’t all. Sometimes, when one was to take a closer look, they’d notice that Flins’ limbs didn’t always move as they should. Especially his hands tended to lose their place in hectic situations and stick out at odd angles. Just short moments, but they were there.
For a wile Varka made a sport of noticing all the little slips in Flins’ masquerade. His play of pretense was good , impressive even, if one took into consideration, that, as Varka came to find out, Flins’ was actually a fae who lived in his lantern. The level of artistry it took to fake a human body and move it like a puppet was remarkable. He couldn’t be bothered to think of every little detail like the fact that humans had to sleep and required food and water in regular intervals or that they sometimes needed a bath. And that they’d start smelling if they didn’t get one.
Seriously, it was borderline comical to watch Flins play to be human. To watch him take an example from the people surrounding him to hone his deception to perfection.
But sometimes he took an example of the wrong things and applied it in the wrong situation too. That at least was Varka’s explanation for the rather… interesting noises Flins made while they climbed up a wall of stone on their way to Piramida.
It probably was supposed to suggest that Flins was exercising hard. Varka had to bite down hard on his lips to prevent himself from laughing every time Flins let out a pant mostly slightly at the wrong time. Exercise indeed.
With a last, hard pant, Flins pulled himself over the edge and dropped down in the grass. Varka followed right after him. “Out of breath?,” he asked.
Flins blinked. Then he nodded regally. “I’ll be good in a moment,” he stated. With a short delay he started to breathe harder as if he remembered that he had to sell his story.
Varka grinned. He couldn’t help himself.
“Something funny?,” asked Flins.
Varka shook his head.
Flins frowned at him. “What is it?”
Varka caved. “Your performance is quite impressive”, he said.
Flins lifted an eyebrow. “But?”
“But…”, Varka bit his lip to keep his laughter in, “while climbing up this particular mountain you sound as if you’re about to reach a different kind of peak.”
Flins stared at him.
Varka stared back. Flins did know about sex, didn’t he? If he had to give the guy The Talk, then he’d probably die of suppressed laughter.
“Something is wrong with my noises?,” asked Flins. The innocence in his eyes was disarming.
“Yes, dear”, said Varka.
Flins thought for a moment. Then he let out the most indecent pant Varka ever heard while looking at him with a completely straight face.
Varka choked on his own spit.
“This one?”, Flins asked.
Varka nodded and tried to breathe normally.
“If that’s the wrong noise – what sound am I to make then?” He tried a slightly less lewd gasp.
Varka ground his teeth together while his mind supplied him with a flood of images how he’d draw this kind of noises from the pretty lightkeeper. He took a deep breath. This was dangerous territory. “How about you just breathe normally?,” he suggested in a desperate attempt to steer back into safe waters.
Flins let out a normal breath and then looked at Varka for approval.
Varka nodded and got up lest this conversation continue. “Come on, let’s go”, he said and held his hand out to Flins.
Flins grabbed it and let himself be pulled to his feet. For a moment he looked Varka into the eyes as if looking for something. Then he let go and turned around – with a gentle, low pant that almost made Varka jump out of his skin.
Flins let out a giggle and briskly walked away.
Varka stood there, rooted to the spot, and stared after him. What did just happen?