17th Cylus 718
Brightly lit office. Big, overly long wooden table. Two women sitting on opposite ends:
One short and brown-haired and plump and looking down intensely at what seemed to be a very, very long checklist like it was the most important thing in the world.
The other tall and uncomfortable and looking like she wanted to be anywhere else but couldn’t. She tugged at her bunned, black hair uncomfortably like it was the first time she had tried it that way.
Both dressed like they were men applying for a scribe’s job, take or give an extra bowtie.
“Do you think your experience matches the needs of this job, Miss O’Connor?”
“No.” Fiona answered honestly and with more than a touch of incredulity. “No, I do not and anyone who gives you an affirmative on that question is either a liar, insane, or started life as an orphan wreathed in the charred ashes of his doomed hometown.”
“A yes or no would suffice,” the woman henceforth to be known as the recruiter said curtly, not even looking up at her checklist - not that she needed to. Her tone a glare unto itself and more than sufficient to convey dismissal.
“No,” she said. This was going well. This was going very well. “I mean, yes. Yes, I’ve worked with some violent, unruly animals before, although this is clearly a step up from that kind of responsibility-”
“Thank you, that’s enough.” More scribbling, more writing in checkboxes; it was too far to see whether it was a tick or a cross when it came to those. “On to our next question: can you elaborate on some of these violent, unruly animals you have claimed to handle?”
“I was just about to-” she bit her tongue. “I’ve worked with Jacadons. You know, Jacadons. Steam-spitting flying lizards that turn to stone when they die. Native to some foreign land where the rulers bang their siblings, I believe. Guess a weird land breeds weird creatures-”
“I know what they are. Please continue with your point.”
“-There was a big one in his own exhibit at the southside of the menagerie. Mean. Very mean. He bit off the hand of one of the other keepers and scald more than one of senior ones. Knew how to get him soft though. Hands out, stand straight, never turn your back to him - triggers the prey drive. Don’t touch him on the facial scutes and always, always be prepared to keep your distance. I sat with him about a house away when he was sloughing once; showed him I wasn’t a threat when he was shedding the old away and I think we’ve established more of a trust since then.”
More scribbling. She couldn’t tell whether she had overshared or presented herself as too casual, too reliant on her own ways to follow proper protocol in how to handle these exotic beasts. Should she have regurgitated the generic way one should have handled Jacadon? Sprout off some egg handling techniques she had never ever done or some kind of crap about how to tend to a dying, near-petrified Jacadon because crap knows these things lived long enough that nobody had ever seen one die of old age. It could have been forever for all she knew.
“Any other experiences with dangerous beasts you would like to share-”
“I-”
“Before we continue, I would like to say that when I say we’re looking for dangerous experiences, we do mean dangerous experiences. A scalv oddity would go far in this apprisal but what we’re looking for,” she finally made eye contact with her. Her eyes were green and sharp. “Gauntrel beasts.”
“Meaning?”
“The creatures that the Lotharro wage war against,” she said. “Creatures that transcend the animal and go straight into what we call monsters. Few menageries would house such a beast, I get it, but you’ve been in quite a few-”
“My last posting had an Albion.”
The recruiter sat up just a bit straighter. Just a tiny bit. “Describe your relevant experience with the beast please.”
She wondered how much of the truth she should tell the recruiter and how much she should hide.
“I was junior keeper to Albion Roost, the star enclosure of the East Etzori menagerie. Understudy to senior keeper Jalaris. I helped draft the plans for the beast’s exhibit. 3000 square feet. Told them it wasn’t enough. Jalaris told them it wasn’t enough. Couldn’t be helped. That was all they could afford. ‘Enough for the King Crocs’ they said. ‘Gonna be good enough for the flyer too’ they hollered. But a crowned croc moves like a snail even in the hotter months; it’s a slab of meat on a sandy bank.” She tapped her fingers irritably, as if she was pissed off all over again.
No: still. Still pissed off.
“Go on.” The recruiter said. She was still scribbling away at the piece of paper, but she was looking at her now.
“Albions needed to move, needed to soar, needed to fly. 3000 wasn’t enough. Couldn’t even set up aerial netting; they fire off crystal-grade shards that will tear all but the toughest netting. The one that arrived at the menagerie was… the horns had grown in, long and hard. Boss said it was about 5; an adolescent halfway to full maturity. It looked bad when it came in: shards were dull, teeth was blunted when we checked, coat was missing in a few areas. Not good at all. Probably got it from some poacher on their way out of Ulthadria.”
She took a deep breath, staring up at the ceiling before returning eye contact with the recruiter. She wondered how much more she should say - but decided to push on anyway. She rather not get the new job than suffer another abuse of this caliber yet again.
“Wouldn’t eat a thing. Threw a goat carcass in, threw boar, threw rabbit, chicken, sheep - no acceptance from the beast there. Heard they ate some veggies too so we tried that. Carrots? No. Cabbages? No. Tried fruits. Apple, orange, dragonfruit - all rejected. They said it was picky. Said it needed life prey so we dropped a live cow in. Lowered it in from the top to get it to rip and tear it - no response either.”
She hesitated… hesitated just long enough for the recruiter’s eyes to narrow a little, but she pushed forward. She’ve never articulated the entire story before and it was both weird and breath of relief to finally put her anger to words.
“Finally found something it liked. It was-”
“Yes, I remember now. That was a tragic accident-”
“Let me finish. I need to finish. Jalaris had sedated the beast and was cleaning out the pen when… we never dealt with such a thing before, we didn’t know, didn’t know the dosage. Thought what was twice as much to knock out a Sorh Khal would suffice. It wasn’t. The creature tore him before he could even turn and broke free into the menagerie. Broke into the grazer section and started slaughtering all the herbies. Menagerie never survived the scandal. East Etzori was done”
“What happened to the Albion?”
She looked straight into the recruiter’s face when she said: “I killed it.”
She shrugged. She wanted to look away, to look at anything else, but looking away now would be a sign of defeat. Not to the recruiter but to herself. To endorse the idea that she did anything wrong at all.
Because she didn’t.
“Beast came to us broken. Should have put it down straight away. End of story. You wanna hire a zookeeper who kills precious menagerie assets, friend?”
“I think not,” the recruiter replied without missing a beat. “So it’s probably good that you aren’t being interviewed for the position of the West Lysoria Menegarie, Miss O’Connor.”
What. “If this is some kind of joke-”
“It’s not. The job you will be doing will require a similar set of skills. The assets you will be managing are… I wouldn’t call them unintelligent but they are unique in the way they process the world. Your stories have been verified; you have the skillset to handle exotic beasts, the understanding and, for lack of a better word, empathy for their needs and their continued survivability in captivity. Where this job differs… is that your charges will be, for some part, out in the open. Taking care of them is a step up from what you’re used to.”
“In what way?”
“The enclosures are big, some of them city-sized. I understand you have some small brushes with the supernatural, and this… this is no small brush. If you say yes, your life will change. You will care for creatures beyond your ken. This is no easy decision. You may return with your answer a fortnight hence, so think very carefully because this is a lifetime commitment. The pay is good. It’s why you’re here but-”
“I’m in.” No other menagerie would accept her after her stunt anyway. What did she have to lose? Everything about this job sounded right up her alley anyway. “I’m so in.”
“Very well then.” The recruiter leaned back onto her chair. “What do you know of the Hunter’s Dream?”
Brightly lit office. Big, overly long wooden table. Two women sitting on opposite ends:
One short and brown-haired and plump and looking down intensely at what seemed to be a very, very long checklist like it was the most important thing in the world.
The other tall and uncomfortable and looking like she wanted to be anywhere else but couldn’t. She tugged at her bunned, black hair uncomfortably like it was the first time she had tried it that way.
Both dressed like they were men applying for a scribe’s job, take or give an extra bowtie.
“Do you think your experience matches the needs of this job, Miss O’Connor?”
“No.” Fiona answered honestly and with more than a touch of incredulity. “No, I do not and anyone who gives you an affirmative on that question is either a liar, insane, or started life as an orphan wreathed in the charred ashes of his doomed hometown.”
“A yes or no would suffice,” the woman henceforth to be known as the recruiter said curtly, not even looking up at her checklist - not that she needed to. Her tone a glare unto itself and more than sufficient to convey dismissal.
“No,” she said. This was going well. This was going very well. “I mean, yes. Yes, I’ve worked with some violent, unruly animals before, although this is clearly a step up from that kind of responsibility-”
“Thank you, that’s enough.” More scribbling, more writing in checkboxes; it was too far to see whether it was a tick or a cross when it came to those. “On to our next question: can you elaborate on some of these violent, unruly animals you have claimed to handle?”
“I was just about to-” she bit her tongue. “I’ve worked with Jacadons. You know, Jacadons. Steam-spitting flying lizards that turn to stone when they die. Native to some foreign land where the rulers bang their siblings, I believe. Guess a weird land breeds weird creatures-”
“I know what they are. Please continue with your point.”
“-There was a big one in his own exhibit at the southside of the menagerie. Mean. Very mean. He bit off the hand of one of the other keepers and scald more than one of senior ones. Knew how to get him soft though. Hands out, stand straight, never turn your back to him - triggers the prey drive. Don’t touch him on the facial scutes and always, always be prepared to keep your distance. I sat with him about a house away when he was sloughing once; showed him I wasn’t a threat when he was shedding the old away and I think we’ve established more of a trust since then.”
More scribbling. She couldn’t tell whether she had overshared or presented herself as too casual, too reliant on her own ways to follow proper protocol in how to handle these exotic beasts. Should she have regurgitated the generic way one should have handled Jacadon? Sprout off some egg handling techniques she had never ever done or some kind of crap about how to tend to a dying, near-petrified Jacadon because crap knows these things lived long enough that nobody had ever seen one die of old age. It could have been forever for all she knew.
“Any other experiences with dangerous beasts you would like to share-”
“I-”
“Before we continue, I would like to say that when I say we’re looking for dangerous experiences, we do mean dangerous experiences. A scalv oddity would go far in this apprisal but what we’re looking for,” she finally made eye contact with her. Her eyes were green and sharp. “Gauntrel beasts.”
“Meaning?”
“The creatures that the Lotharro wage war against,” she said. “Creatures that transcend the animal and go straight into what we call monsters. Few menageries would house such a beast, I get it, but you’ve been in quite a few-”
“My last posting had an Albion.”
The recruiter sat up just a bit straighter. Just a tiny bit. “Describe your relevant experience with the beast please.”
She wondered how much of the truth she should tell the recruiter and how much she should hide.
“I was junior keeper to Albion Roost, the star enclosure of the East Etzori menagerie. Understudy to senior keeper Jalaris. I helped draft the plans for the beast’s exhibit. 3000 square feet. Told them it wasn’t enough. Jalaris told them it wasn’t enough. Couldn’t be helped. That was all they could afford. ‘Enough for the King Crocs’ they said. ‘Gonna be good enough for the flyer too’ they hollered. But a crowned croc moves like a snail even in the hotter months; it’s a slab of meat on a sandy bank.” She tapped her fingers irritably, as if she was pissed off all over again.
No: still. Still pissed off.
“Go on.” The recruiter said. She was still scribbling away at the piece of paper, but she was looking at her now.
“Albions needed to move, needed to soar, needed to fly. 3000 wasn’t enough. Couldn’t even set up aerial netting; they fire off crystal-grade shards that will tear all but the toughest netting. The one that arrived at the menagerie was… the horns had grown in, long and hard. Boss said it was about 5; an adolescent halfway to full maturity. It looked bad when it came in: shards were dull, teeth was blunted when we checked, coat was missing in a few areas. Not good at all. Probably got it from some poacher on their way out of Ulthadria.”
She took a deep breath, staring up at the ceiling before returning eye contact with the recruiter. She wondered how much more she should say - but decided to push on anyway. She rather not get the new job than suffer another abuse of this caliber yet again.
“Wouldn’t eat a thing. Threw a goat carcass in, threw boar, threw rabbit, chicken, sheep - no acceptance from the beast there. Heard they ate some veggies too so we tried that. Carrots? No. Cabbages? No. Tried fruits. Apple, orange, dragonfruit - all rejected. They said it was picky. Said it needed life prey so we dropped a live cow in. Lowered it in from the top to get it to rip and tear it - no response either.”
She hesitated… hesitated just long enough for the recruiter’s eyes to narrow a little, but she pushed forward. She’ve never articulated the entire story before and it was both weird and breath of relief to finally put her anger to words.
“Finally found something it liked. It was-”
“Yes, I remember now. That was a tragic accident-”
“Let me finish. I need to finish. Jalaris had sedated the beast and was cleaning out the pen when… we never dealt with such a thing before, we didn’t know, didn’t know the dosage. Thought what was twice as much to knock out a Sorh Khal would suffice. It wasn’t. The creature tore him before he could even turn and broke free into the menagerie. Broke into the grazer section and started slaughtering all the herbies. Menagerie never survived the scandal. East Etzori was done”
“What happened to the Albion?”
She looked straight into the recruiter’s face when she said: “I killed it.”
She shrugged. She wanted to look away, to look at anything else, but looking away now would be a sign of defeat. Not to the recruiter but to herself. To endorse the idea that she did anything wrong at all.
Because she didn’t.
“Beast came to us broken. Should have put it down straight away. End of story. You wanna hire a zookeeper who kills precious menagerie assets, friend?”
“I think not,” the recruiter replied without missing a beat. “So it’s probably good that you aren’t being interviewed for the position of the West Lysoria Menegarie, Miss O’Connor.”
What. “If this is some kind of joke-”
“It’s not. The job you will be doing will require a similar set of skills. The assets you will be managing are… I wouldn’t call them unintelligent but they are unique in the way they process the world. Your stories have been verified; you have the skillset to handle exotic beasts, the understanding and, for lack of a better word, empathy for their needs and their continued survivability in captivity. Where this job differs… is that your charges will be, for some part, out in the open. Taking care of them is a step up from what you’re used to.”
“In what way?”
“The enclosures are big, some of them city-sized. I understand you have some small brushes with the supernatural, and this… this is no small brush. If you say yes, your life will change. You will care for creatures beyond your ken. This is no easy decision. You may return with your answer a fortnight hence, so think very carefully because this is a lifetime commitment. The pay is good. It’s why you’re here but-”
“I’m in.” No other menagerie would accept her after her stunt anyway. What did she have to lose? Everything about this job sounded right up her alley anyway. “I’m so in.”
“Very well then.” The recruiter leaned back onto her chair. “What do you know of the Hunter’s Dream?”
