ππππ ππππππ’ πππππππ ππ: @aloofyadrift You're All Dressed Up, Caste Appropriate Formal Attire For Your Evaluation. Its Tight, It's Hot, And It Itches. You Hadn't Worn It In A Sweep, But Not Even You Could Get Away With Casual Fittings For Such An Occasion, Lest You Get Chewed Out At The Least By The Evaluation And Recruitment Officer. he's Sitting Before You At A Desk. There Is No Chair On Your Side, So You Stand At Your Best Approximation Of "at Attention", Anxiously Waiting As He Reads Over Your Reports Of Your Doings Since The Last Evaluation. his Expression Changes Little As He Reads Through Your Writings, Save For A Growing Weariness In His Eyes, Betraying Disappointment But Not Surprise. Occasionally His Eyes Shift To You, Just For A Moment, Before Returning To The Papers. "remira... Why Did You Even Come? To Waste My Time? Have You Resolved To Punish Me With Guilt, For Having To Evaluate Someone Of Your Station With So Little To Show For It?" a Sigh, As He Closes His Eyes And Puts His Head In His Hands. Stress Evident In His Voice With Every Word. "you Know I Can't Just Pretend You Don't Exist. Someone Of Your... Of Your Pedigree, Such Big Shoes To Fill, And It's Like You're Not Even Trying. This Isn't Behavior Fitting Of Your Caste. Zero Trolls Culled, Zero Under Your Command, No Staff, No Projects, And Don't Think I Haven't Heard The Rumors. Pairing With... With Rusties?" He Spits With Potent Revulsion Into The Waste Bin Beside The Desk. he Looks You Dead In The Eye, Searching For Any Sign Of Shame, The Rightful Shame You Should Be Feeling For Being The Most True Icon Of Failure Your Caste Could Hope To Produce. And He Finds It In The Pained Look You Return To Him, The Tears Welling Up, Your Breath Becoming Shaky. You Think, For A Moment, He Will Grant You At Least Sympathy. He Does Not. his Brow Burrows, His Voice Raises Ever So Slightly, Shaking In Frustration. "do You Have Any Idea How This Reflects On Me? I Sponsored You, I Found Your Storied Bloodline Connections, I Put You In The Position To Take Anything You Wanted, If You Just Had The Globes To Grab For It. And You've Made Me Look Like A Fool, With Your Prancing About On Land, Mating With The Gutterbloods, Making Us All Look Like Jokes." his Fist Pounds At The Table And He Escalates To A Yell. "you Fucked Me, Remira. I Gave Up Countless Opportunities To Try And Shape You Up Into The Woman You Should Be. And You Have The Gall To Stand Here In Front Of Me, Hand Me These... Nothing Reports And Act Like You Aren't The Most Sorry Excuse For A Violet Ever Hatched?" he Pauses For A Response. You Try To Formulate One. An Excuse. An 'i'm Sorry'. Anything. But The Only Thing That Escapes Your Lips Is A Single Sob, As Tears Flow Down Your Face. There's Nothing To Say That Could Salvage You From Your Own Mess. So You Say Nothing, And Wait For Your Final Judgement. when He Realizes You Have Nothing To Defend Yourself With, His Voice Comes Out Again, Quiet, Cold. "get The Fuck Out Of My Office. You Have Few Sweeps Still Before Your Final, Mandatory Evaluation Comes. I Will Not Be There. Get Your Worthless Scales Into Gear By Then, Or You Might Face Some Real Consequences. We're Done Here." what Happened After Was A Blur. You Were Ushered Out, Still Crying Through The Halls As Your Castemates Watched Wordlessly. Not One Offered Sympathy, Nor Even The Catharsis Of Derision. Simply Icy Glares As They Waited For You To Be Out Of Their Space, And No Longer Their Problem. once You Found Your Lusus, A Massive Kindly Manta, You Found Refuge Into The Pocket Strapped Underneath One Of Her Fins, And Slept The Remainder Of The Night And The Day After, Drifting On The Waves. #cw-casteism #suggestive culture. πΌπππππ’ πππ β β β β β β β β β β β β β
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