"Those other people are usually the ones I'd be hunting." He tells him, and starts dragging the pig back to the Enclosure entrance. "Pigs are for Christmastime and feasts after Lent."
"Fat Tuesday? I mean, Lent is...it's Lent. It's dark and you're hungry and you can't eat or drink what you want. I'm not so observant as I once was. But back before people were starving to death, you fasted for half the year and Lent's the most important and longest fast of that year. "
He gives him a weird look. It's like explaining to a child why the sun rises in the morning.
"Religious observation. Jesus Christ did it so now his observers follow in his footsteps. We're supposed to be...I don't know, refraining from physical pleasures of the earth. We're denying what's tempting to us for something more powerful: God's grace, or forgiveness or whatever. There's like four priests on this tub and I'm not one of them; I can't give you better answers than that."
"We should observe it this year." Trevor doesn't sound particularly religious about it so Lark needn't be either. They can get some other meaning from it.
"I think I'll pass." He says, and hauls the pig over the threshold into the Barge proper. "But feel free to starve yourself for whatever reason you want."
"Honestly the celebration is getting to live another day." Trevor exhales, smiling a little. "Anything else could be considered excessive. Fuck, now I'm talking like Alucard."
"Celebrations break up the monotony here. I suspect that's why they existed in your time, too." He gives him a sage look. "There's more to life than just surviving through the night."
"There hasn't been much celebrating in the last year or so." He counters. "Been a shit time for everyone. I don't think anyone feels much like celebrating - there's monotony and then there's outright tragedy. Feels different."
"Well, here your survival is guaranteed." Or very nearly guaranteed, anyway. "So you get to examine what you want besides 'just to wake up breathing'."
Trevor feels like shit. He had hoped that Lark might have volunteered to lift the curse himself but that doesn't seem to be happening and he's too proud (and tired) to beg.
"It's not that. I can fight in self-fucking defense, which is useless. I can't defend someone else. According to the fucker who put the thing on me, I'm supposed to 'call for help'. Like that's ever worked in the history of human-fucking-kind."
Bitter now, he waits for Lark to unlock the kitchen doors.
He opens the door and holds it for Trevor. "I'm not your warden which means I can't lift it. But if I was your warden, I'd ask you how far back your idea of 'defense' goes. Would you kill someone over something they might do?"
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"Those other people are usually the ones I'd be hunting." He tells him, and starts dragging the pig back to the Enclosure entrance. "Pigs are for Christmastime and feasts after Lent."
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"Fat Tuesday? I mean, Lent is...it's Lent. It's dark and you're hungry and you can't eat or drink what you want. I'm not so observant as I once was. But back before people were starving to death, you fasted for half the year and Lent's the most important and longest fast of that year. "
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"What's the purpose behind the fast?"
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"Religious observation. Jesus Christ did it so now his observers follow in his footsteps. We're supposed to be...I don't know, refraining from physical pleasures of the earth. We're denying what's tempting to us for something more powerful: God's grace, or forgiveness or whatever. There's like four priests on this tub and I'm not one of them; I can't give you better answers than that."
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"You're only saying that because you have to cook all the food for this lot. With Lent you eat one meal a day for forty days."
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"I don't know. Not much one for celebrating. Anyway, that's months off."
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"There hasn't been much celebrating in the last year or so." He counters. "Been a shit time for everyone. I don't think anyone feels much like celebrating - there's monotony and then there's outright tragedy. Feels different."
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"But if I had to be stuck sharing a ship with someone who hunts my kind, I don't hate that it's you."
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"What a final moment for the ancestral clan."
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"It's not that. I can fight in self-fucking defense, which is useless. I can't defend someone else. According to the fucker who put the thing on me, I'm supposed to 'call for help'. Like that's ever worked in the history of human-fucking-kind."
Bitter now, he waits for Lark to unlock the kitchen doors.
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