I WAS TOLD SO I BELIEVED / val

[bubblegum]

[WANDERER]

[align=center][div style="width: 500px; text-align: justify; font-family: arial; font-size: 9.5pt; line-height: 1.4;letter-spacing:.1px"]Truth be told, Val doesn't know enough about this world to make up a story like that. Hell, when he showed up at the end of the tracks, he hadn't even known where he was or what they were like. All he's familiar with is the idea of this — a group of people living together to take care of each other. That was simple enough, wasn't it? Except their interests all conflicted, they all just kept bumping edges with each other. He understands and then he doesn't, because the life he'd lived was messy and not everyone got along, but they never hurt each other. Not too badly. Butch and his friends said some things that cut deep, and Amata had ended up crying once or twice. It was cruel, the sort of things kids do. Sometimes they'd ended up knocking around a room and snarling at each other, Val's teeth tugging at the collie's ear or snapping at his nose. But that was it. That was the worst thing that happened to him.

The people out here... they torture each other, kill each other. Butch is walking around The Pitt with a collar around his throat because — because why? He doesn't get it, he never will. That doesn't mean he can't be sympathetic towards what these people go through. just that he can't make sense of it. Part of him wants to let go of the anger that burrowed underneath his skin at the way they spoke to him. Disbelief was to be expected, and he'd stumbled into some political mess he didn't know shit about. Of course they were going to be hostile. He just — Val's having trouble coming to terms with their ideas about him. That someone could hate so blindly, it didn't sit right with him. (Here he is, feeling that same indiscriminate anger. It's hypocritical, he knows.)

Val tries to calm himself by working on his bag again. It's lighter without the book and the stuff he'd left with Pip, a bit easier to organize. The stuff he doesn't use often goes in the bottom, and some of the stuff that won't break. Jars on top, with the herbs as padding. Bandages above everything else, since it's what he uses the most. Simple stuff that keeps his paws busy and his head clear. It works for a while, everything laid out in front of him. Then he hears a voice, and his tense mind doesn't register the softness to her speech at first. "Am I not far enough away yet?" Val snaps, turning around to search for the person who spoke. He sounds more tired than angry at this point, though there's still a sharp edge. "I'll — keep walking in a bit. Give me a sec."

[bubblegum]

[WANDERER]

[align=center][div style="width: 500px; text-align: justify; font-family: arial; font-size: 9.5pt; line-height: 1.4;letter-spacing:.1px"]As soon as she speaks again, Val himself is trying not to apologize. Some of his tension leaves with an unsteady exhale, golden eyes drifting closed for just a second. It wasn't even that her words gave away any sort of motivation. Whether she was here to kill him or hug him, she'd softly asked where he was. Everything got to him more than he wanted to, through all the speeches about professionalism his dad gave him and he gave himself. His tongue clicks against the back of his teeth as he calms down again. Though her words alone do little to soothe the bitterness he feels and will continue to feel, his expression softens. Like he'd said, he's not unsympathetic. But he's not — something, he doesn't know yet. "There's a difference between taking care of each other and hurting everyone else." It's easy to stop trusting the world, to hate all of them. Val's at the edge of that now and unsure if he can reel himself back in, but he's trying. It could be hypocritical of him to ask anyone else to do what he so clearly struggles with, but his failures are his own.

There's been a lot of that lately. Hypocritical mistakes and inexcusable selfishness. He's pretty sure it would just be best for him to stop talking about what's right or wrong in this world. They're all gonna die anyway, right? The dog swallows down the rest of what's on his mind and smiles, for all that something so unsure could be worth. "But I get it. No hard feelings. Just make sure the kid's alright, yeah?" Pip hasn't fully left his mind, and he doubts that the young canine ever will, but... not many people did. Hell, he still worries about Amata. "And for whatever it matters — sorry for what happened to you." It wasn't his doing and he won't feel guilty for it, but at the end of the day their issues at the border came down to a miscommunication, she just didn't deserve to be dragged back through those memories, whatever they were.

After a few more seconds of quiet fiddling to collect his thoughts, his satchel is better arranged again. His face has softened with thought. Though he's still covered in dirt and now his cheek is a little bit scorched (he tries not to think about who took the brunt of that), slowly relaxing shoulders gives the shepherd a more open appearance. "Thanks for the offer, but 'm not gonna ask you to put yourself in danger like that. We'll figure it out." That's a lie, it's already been almost a month with him there trying to think that through. Butch's been there longer. Val chews on his tongue and stares at his paws, torn between rescinding his denial and just heading off before he said something he'd regret. "'Sides, 'all it takes are two roaming ears for your plans to go out the window'," he quotes Feliks bitterly, not quite meaning to say that he doesn't trust her, but with the way everyone had talked about him, well... trust refused goes both ways, at least for the moment.

"I'm Val, though. You don't have to call me sir." She didn't seem too much younger than him, anyway. Or, rather, he didn't feel old enough to be "sir".