Work Text:
Jupiter had been invited by his ’work friends’ to go out when they’d finished their work. It was a very fun job to Jupiter, looking at plants and using new, big machines from the cities in the south that ended up me advanced. No one really knew why, only that they were allies of almost everyone with power in fear that they would develop machinery far too complex to fight with magic and blades.
They met at a local tavern, the small group of coworkers that worked together almost every day. They sat down around a wooden table, beneath the orange glow of a flickering lantern. One of the members on the team had invited two of his friends to join them. Jupiter had never met them, but they couldn’t be too bad. Could they?
When it came to buying drinks, all of them agreed on mead. This particular tavern was known for the high quality of it’s drinks.
On of the new people, a larger avian with green feathers, sneered. “Shouldn’t you be buying milk, Jupiter? I didn’t think pathetic girls would drink something so… adventurous.”
Upon hearing that, Jupiter froze halfway through his animated conversation about the mould he found growing on some discarded scraps. “What?” Was all he could possibly manage to say. “I’m not- I- What?” He stumbled over his words, wanting to confront the man, yet not wanting to out himself even more.
The other man, a similar sized avian with dark blue feathers snickered along with him. “Oh, c’mon. You don’t sound like a guy, you don’t look like one either. Anyway, your friend here told us you weren’t a real bloke anyway.” He grinned, shoving his elbow into the side of the human scientist that bought them here. The one that Jupiter trusted enough to come out to.
The bright coloured avian couldn’t reply. He felt far too many emotions. Anger. Embarrassment. Betrayal. A deep, gnawing need to scream at his so called friend.
”I swear I didn’t mean it like that-!” The human tried to convince Jupiter, who was now string blankly at him. “I told them so they were careful with what they said- Not so they could-“ they fumbled with their own words. ”Out.” He said between gritted teeth to he larger avians who left with smirks on their faces.
Despite staring blankly, Jupiter’s mind whirled like a raging hurricane. On top of the emotions, everything began to feel too much.
The muttering of his friends. The chatter of the tavern. The old structure groaning slightly in the wind. The flickering light, once soft and now beating down like torrential rainfall. Every. Little. Movement.
”I’m leaving.” Jupiter huffed abruptly, picking up his bag and his wooden cane and quickly striding between tables, to the door and onto the muddy path that led deep into the jungle. To his home that he had relied on his entire life.
He slowed his pace as he got further away, his gait slightly uneven, and took time to admire the forest. The birds sang in a chorus of tunes, each noise meaning something in a language that only avians can understand. Marks stood on the ground and in trees, signs of other inhabitants and travellers. Warnings and advice on the paths and life in the dark floor of the forest.
Nearby, he could hear a stream. He remembered going there when he was younger. He would spend hours there, playing and laughing. They wee adults now, but they still visited the place together. When they weren’t busy with work and responsibilities. Something Jupiter had a very love-hate relationship with.
He decided to pass through the trees, their bases thick and rough with centuries of growing alongside the people of the forest.
He crouched down beside the flowing water, placing his hand into the shifting stream. The cold, freezing but not yet unwelcome, immediately grasped his clawed fingers like the teeth of a ravenous viper. The cold water was a stark contrast to the constant heat of between the giant trees and vibrant shrubs. Leaning forward, he gazed at his reflection.
He looked at his messy hair, a colour that looked as if it was supposed to be golden like the sun but darkened. A lot like the forest floor, covered by the top layer of trees. His skin is rather pale (admittedly from spending most of his time inside like a vampire) but it still had the warm colour of golden sand. Jupiter remembered his fathers’ describing it like that to him at least. He didn’t particularly like sand. He’d often been told he was a crybaby or too sensitive for not liking the loud noises in the hearts of kingdoms of the feel of certain materials against his skin. The avian shook his head, knowing his thoughts were straying.
He looked deeper at his face, looking at the nape of his lips, the curve of his nose, the shape of his eyes. They reminded him too much of a little girl. Her name was Venus and she was seen as a strange child. She would refuse to follow the rules of their society, much to her fathers’ amusement. And then she grew up into someone completely different.
That someone was staring back at Jupiter, his face distorted by the rush of the water.
The man sighed, setting the wooden cane down, designs of vines and birds covering its stick. He shakily sat down amidst the water-softened rocks and stayed there for what might have been minutes or hours. Thinking.
He was a man. He knew he was and no one had thought anything different. Not until then. Even if he told himself they wouldn’t have known if the human stayed silent, his brain was convinced that something gave it away. And he spent hours examining every inch of himself, inside and out, to try and find the problem in hopes that he could tear it away and no one would know who he used to be.