25th Zi'da, 716
22nd Break
Socializing: The act of interacting with individuals.22nd Break
Finding a definition for the word was not complicated. However, understanding and performing are two different concepts, which, quite frequently, did not relate to the other in any sort of way. One could wield a sword a hundred different ways, and yet not because of that said individual understood what he was doing. A conversation, or any basic social interaction for that matter, could be branded in the same category. Submissive personalities combined with low self-esteem probably lacked the necessary tools to satisfy their social demands, and yet for certain are aware of what the concept stands for. A cow, a bear, or a fish –primitive animals without apparent capacity of logical thought – knew not what socializing meant, yet they communicate and interact with each other nonetheless.
For Kovic, both cases were true, and were able to be applied to his being. He alone had deciphered the meaning of the word, and the action it described, throughout logic and experience, and much like an animal, he was able to transmit and interact with his environment. However, those interactions lacked depth. A male opens his mouth and speaks to his peer, and those words, Kovic thought, escaped from deep inside him. A sentiment, an inner being. A combination of different patterns of thinking, feeling, and behaving. When Kovic spoke, he did not felt that depth within his words. He spoke without purpose, and communicated only what matched with his peer’s requirements. Most times, he felt like a bad quality copy of those individuals he surrounded himself with. A hollow mimic that never quite managed to understand any concept fully, nor perform said concept correctly.
Kovic snickered, his hand patting his co-worker eagerly. It had been a long and exhausting trial of work, the group of lumberjacks now finding solace and comfort in the half-finished mugs of ale, and the smoking pipes they held in their bearded features. The job was hard and long, and large part of the day was spent commuting in wagons towards the nearest forestation zones. Kovic disliked manual labor, as it made him feel even hungrier, yet this particular employment offered him warm clothing, a bunk in the barracks, and two meals a day. For the moment, and whilst he looked for someone else to latch onto – hoping to satisfy his basic needs without the need of actual labor –, Kovic did not complain.
The mood of the quartet of workers was calm and quiet, yet the manly bravado of testosterone and facial hair resurfaced every now and then. Comments about sexual intents destined towards female pedestrians were common amongst them, just as much as complaining about the work conditions –something that, apparently, was common in every part of the world – and gossiping about a wide variety of topics. Kovic remained quiet most of the times, instead pretending he was too tired to socially engage with his co-workers. Whenever he did interact with them, mandatorily doing so every so often to maintain his façade, he did so in the form of laughs, chuckles, and scoffs, along with occasional eye contact.
The streets were cold, and the occasional ocean breeze punished the bulking males by sending intense shivers down their spines. In a stubborn attempt to salvage what remained of the day, desperately trying to avoid the sad procession towards bunks and beds, towards ungrateful wives or unsatisfying realities, the men remained outside, valiantly defying logic and healthy habits. Or stupidly, if Kovic could voice his honest opinion. Unlike his patrons, he did not leisure in smoking a pipe – a habit he found rather bizarre – or found comfort in the bitter contents of their tankards. Alas, his Ether Lure was active, flaring at medium intensity in hopes of alluring one of the males. Every man, woman, or child could offer something to Kovic, and he felt no guilt in taking advantage from it. Eventually, they would be reduced to his puppets.
The largest lumberjack’s arm unwrapped the tankard, and pointed towards the voluminous rear of a fleeting female.
“I’d gladly drain my cock inside her sewage. HA!” he exclaimed.
The group chuckled, as usual.
Kovic chuckled too, and rose his tankard to his lips. He pretended to drink. Before he could realize it, the leader of the group was staring at him. Kovic detected the suspicion and skepticism in his eyes.
“Why are you laughing?” asked the so-called leader. “You didn’t even look at her.”
“I didn’t need to,” replied Kovic, immediately. Another moment of improvisation. Assuming the identity of a sexual jock that belonged within the group wasn’t hard. The guidelines were as follow; proclaim coitus as the only activity one wished to practice, hide one’s insecurity below muscle-mass and stiff poise, assess female’s worth by the characteristics of breasts, rears, and general sex appeal, and display a depth of character of a victim struck by blunt force trauma. By far one of the easiest acts one could assume. “I saw her baggy tits and looked away!” explained Kovic, following the statement with an obnoxiously loud chuckle.
The group chuckled, as usual.
Kovic looked away, and once again rose the tankard to his lips, pretending to drink once more. His hopes of seducing the leader, whom showed signs of inverted sexual preferences, were being frustratingly annoying.
Alas, this is what socializing felt like.