An Outsider — Roleplayer Guild

The House 

”Nice entrance, princess.”

	A dry, sardonic voice came from the darkened corner of the room, where a quick look revealed a black-haired boy slouched on a sofa, eating a candy bar. Nike couldn’t be sure, but she suspected the man may have been being sarcastic. Sarcasm wasn’t an alien concept to her, she had used it herself a few times – the Greeks had invented it, after all – but it’s use was far less prevalent on Themyscira, where people where far more open with one another, and less prone to back-biting and snideness, and so she struggled to identify it in American culture, where it seemed to be second nature to everyone. She eventually decided to accept the comment at face value, if for no other reason than to honour her sister’s wishes that she make friends here.

“Thank you.” She stated unironically, though struggled to force any true cheeriness into her smile. The man hadn’t introduced himself, and she was hesitant to ask him his name. Thankfully she was saved the task of having to make awkward small talk with the man-with-no-name by the entrance of another woman – thank the Gods – accompanied by a blonde man she named as Julien. At least, Nike thought to herself, that’s one person’s name I know now. Does nobody in man’s world introduce themselves?

	Name withheld or not, the other girls offer was enticing. She had worked up quite the appetite travelling here all the way from Washington, though Nike wasn’t sure what hastag was supposed to mean. Was it a kind of spoken punctuation that she was unfamiliar with? She would have asked for clarification, but the nameless woman and dark-haired watcher in the shadows chose that moment to have a war of words. Nike grunted in annoyance as they traded barbs. This time she could identify the sarcasm. The people here were such children, she decided. If they truly had a problem with one another then they should settle it in the Court of Swords, like warriors.

	She decided to leave the two to their bickering, and venture further into the domicile on her own, when a tall, skinny boy moved in her direction, making a disparaging comment about her attire instead of begging her pardon for so rudely pushing his way past her. 

	Diana had found that if it would have been a task of Herculean proportions if she was to try and teach her sister everything about living in the America in the short time they had together. Too much to tell, too little time. She’d gotten the basics out of the way of course, the things Nike needed to know so as to avoid attracting too much attention to herself in this modern world, things like commercialism, the republican party, and the taboo upon public displays of affection, and societies fixation upon celebrity. After that they had focused on those issues Diana was passionate about. One issue in particular, and one that she felt was incredibly damaging to individuals in a supposedly enlightened age of humanity, was body shaming. 

Now that had been a foreign concept to the young Amazonian. Criticizing one’s own appearance, or even worse, somebody else’s, was even more bizarre than the concept of ‘money’. If one wished their body to be fitter, or leaner, then they could just exercise or eat well, but all Amazonian’s were taught to love themselves for who they were. And yet here, where the people masqueraded as civilised, they humiliated one another for the crime of having physical imperfections, a crime that no one save the Gods were innocent of. Nike had concluded that her sister was correct, that this issue was worth being passionate about, as its power was insidious, seemingly such a small, insubstantial thing that caused so much damage. Young girls having harmful surgeries to change their faces or bodies, painful and damaging fad diets, destroying good people’s confidence, potentially even leading to cases of suicide.  

	So, to come to this place, this hall of heroes, and have one of those supposed sentinels of good attempt to ‘body shame’ her? Well, this she would not stand for. 

	Her bag of belongs got dropped in a pile at her feet, but before they had even hit the ground her hand shot out, gripping the boy by the shoulder in a titan-like grip, and hauling him back. With a wrench she twisted him around to face her. Mere inches separated them, their noses near touching, though no onlooker would mistake this for a romantic interlude, such was the controlled fury painted across Nike’s countenance.

“Listen here worm.” she snarled, teeth grit like an angry dog. “I am Nike, daughter of Herakles, Princess of the Amazons, Champion of the Olympians, and I shall not be talked down to by the likes of you!” She stabbed a finger into his chest, the power behind that small movement enough to stagger a full grown man. “If I ever hear you try and make another feel anything other than pride in their body, then I shall personally ruin yours, to such a state that the sight of your broken form will haunt the nightmares of all those with the misfortune to look upon you.”

“Moreover, in the future, when you have something to say to someone, you look them in the eye when you say it. You might have no respect for yourself, but you will show respect for those around you.” She held his eye contact for a moment, daring him to defy her, to challenge her, to give her an excuse to do … well, to do something violent. No excuse was forthcoming, however. Mores the pity.

“Do not make me repeat this message, for next time I will be disinclined to waste my words upon the likes of you again, and be more tempted to allow my sword to do the talking.” She released her grip upon the big-mouthed fool, sending him stumbling back through the door that he had been trying to escape through after his initial, poorly thought out comment. 

	Nike grabbed her bag and entered the building proper, frowning slightly as the other woman joined her in berating the abusive male, though also insulted him for his looks. Hypocrisy like that was rife in Man’s World, but it was concerning to see that it had also infected her sisters who had been raised there. She had hoped that they would know better.

“Do not lower yourself to his level -” She admonished, but before she could continue she was interrupted by another male, thought this one was polite enough to offer his name, and had the sense to treat her as a person, rather than an object. Nike was momentarily interested by the easy fluidity of his movements as he moved. A warrior, she decided, her interest piqued.

“Well met, friend Rev. I am Nike, of the Amazons.” She bowed her head to him slightly, though the smaller girl intervened one more, wrapping her arms around Nike, and dragging her away. Again she repeated the hashtag statement, leaving the princess as confused as ever.

“I don’t know. You might be right. I wouldn’t know. ’Hashtag’ boys are still somewhat of an anomaly for me. And I have no idea what this hashtag is. I am hungry though.” She offered the smaller girl a bemused smile, and allowed herself to be dragged in the direction of the kitchen. “Join us for luncheon, Rev?” She called over her shoulder. 

	They were stopped on the way by yet another male – they sure were prolific here, were where all the female heroes? – who seemed to be enquiring about what activities the group was up to. His interests left something to be desired though.

“Diana and I deal harshly with most troublemakers. Just this morning I gave one a violent concussion after he crashed a car into me.” Nike responded absently, still more concerned with finding somewhere to get something to eat than dealing with a would-be ne'er-do-well. He couldn’t be all that serious, she told herself, otherwise he wouldn’t be here. “We currently search for vittles’. Perhaps you should join us, and hope that sates your desire for misadventure. I’d hate to be forced to concuss a new team mate on my first day.” … No matter how many of them seemed to be going out of their way to stress her nerves.
An Outsider Member

A Glorious Failure

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