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Cel’s family was not well liked.
Well, okay, that was probably an overgeneralization. It was more accurate to say that their parents were not well liked, which naturally meant that them and their siblings were also not quite liked.
They still had friends, of course. Newn had been very lucky to not see the Very Bad Thing that Dad had done in front of everyone, which meant that she didn’t have many issues with them. Which was good! Cel really didn’t want to lose their best friend because of something that they didn’t even do.
For the most part, Starry’s friends still seemed to hang out with him, too. They always traveled in a little pack, Cel knew, with their little brother at the helm of whatever mischief they could come up with for the day. He was careful not to do anything too terrible, but the youngest of the trio definitely knew how to cause a bit of a ruckus.
Cel suspected that he took advantage of his inability to hear indignant shrieks aimed at him. Honestly, the aftermath of his little pranks were always the funniest part.
Today, though, neither of them really had any intentions of doing anything special. Starry had tuckered himself out well the day before with his friends, and Cel was just itching to get their hands on one of the sweets they sold down in the Pro Layer. As always, Starry was bribed quite easily into coming with them simply with the promise of getting one for himself, which led to now.
Their legs admittedly already ached from the jumping, and Starry probably didn’t feel a whole lot better, but both kids were led on by the promise of their favorite sweet treats and so they continued without complaint. Occasionally, they would exchange silent words, Starry’s ears flicking along with the movement of his hands to accentuate certain movements or words.
When they caught what sounded like the tail end of a greeting, Cel’s ears instinctively twitched in the direction of the conversation, and tuned in entirely once they heard the mention of the Parkour God. They stopped abruptly, ears perking up.
They knew that Dad wasn’t well liked these days, and it was more than likely that this conversation was not intended to be a positive one. And yet, Cel couldn’t quite push down their spike of curiosity.
Cel’s plan had been to catch the shop owner right as they started setting up their stock for the day, knowing that that would mean that the pastries were fresh and still warm from the oven. That meant that, at the moment, most of the Pro Layer was largely deserted save for a scattered few players here and there that were too focused on opening to notice the two young children wandering among them. With a mischievous grin, Cel grabbed Starry’s skinny wrist and tugged him behind a canvas tarp separating the neighboring stall from its storage area. The boy gave a short yelp of protest, but he followed along nonetheless. Cel double-checked to make sure they were appropriately hidden before settling down.
It was fairly dark, though Cel had expected it to be. It made it a bit more difficult to explain to their brother why they had dragged him back here, though, a feat that had to be done primarily by letting his hands graze over theirs through the signs.
‘Eavesdropping,’ they explained silently and quickly. Starry grinned wide, eyes sparkling.
They were a bit closer to the conversing players there, their voices muffled through tarp and fabric but audible when they focused.
“…called it. I shoulda put money onnit like Asher did.”
“I mean, it was obvious, man.”
Cel shifted the tarp around them, just enough to see through the cracks and into the neighboring shop. There were two players, two men, both occupied with opening up their shop for the day. There was a small spike of unease in their chest at the familiar scene- it hadn’t been too long ago when two male Pros had tried to kidnap them and use them for ransom- but the knowledge that Nebby was barely a call away was enough to soothe Cel into keeping their position. Starry shuffled closer, trying to get a peak of what was going on. Cel instinctively translated for him to the best of their ability.
“What other reason would the Angel of Death end up Parkour Champion? That kinda thing don’t happen unless someone is sucking off someone else. And considering how much Seawatt kisses the Parkour God’s ass, you gotta know he’s open to that sorta deal.” The younger man gave a harsh, sardonic chuckle.
“Heh. If giving someone a good blow s’all you need to become Parkour Champion, I’d’ve been the most powerful player in Parkour Civilization years ago. Seawatt’s gotta have some dirt on them.”
Cel didn’t quite understand what the players were saying. They understood the words, yes, but not what they meant in the context that was being used. They furrowed their brow, shooting their little brother a confused glance as they finished the translation. He gave a shrug.
What they did understand, though, was the tone they were using. Dripping with sarcasm and malice. Oozing with clear dislike for the players they were talking about.
“Betcha anything Seawatt beats those kids,” the younger man said suddenly.
“Nah, man. Ya’ hear the way the Parkour God talked to the oldest girl? They’re all beating on them. I’d bet a stack of glass blocks on it.”
Celeste found themself physically flinching back at the accusations, and the half-amused, casual way with which they were thrown out. None of their parents had ever hurt them! Not like that! They had to force themself not to speak out now, to jump out from the tarp and yell at these rude players until they stopped talking about their parents in that way.
Maybe they would’ve, if the near-kidnapping thing hadn’t happened. As it was, they stayed put, ears flat and mouth set in an angry scowl.
“You know what they say. All kids deserve a parent, but not every parent deserves a kid.”
“Gonna be honest, man. Not sure how much that applies here.”
“Why’s that, huh?”
“‘Cause, didya actually look at those kids? Honestly, that’s the kind of thing that the old Parkour God and Champion wouldn’t let slide.” The player who was speaking- the older of the two- let out a grunt of effort as he lifted a heavy box. Cel felt their ears burning. Starry tugged on their sleeve meaningfully as Cel’s translations slowly stopped. They hesitated for a long moment, unsure of whether they should even tell him what was being said.
Ultimately, they decided to tell him. They were in this together. Even if they were hating their decision to eavesdrop more and more by the minute.
“Especially the boy,” he continued. “I dunno what’s wrong with him, but there’s something. My cousin ran into him once- said he don’t speak a word. Just stares at you like he don’t understand a word you say.”
“Hey, ain’t their fault they got stuck with those three.”
“S’like the universe itself telling you that it’s a rotten relationship. When I was a kid, we didn’t waste our time and resources on the useless ones. If we found any kids that acted like that, we woulda just thrown them to the void and not thought about it again.” The man scoffed. “It ain’t natural, keeping things like that alive. We slaughter most of ‘em beasts for food, not raise ‘em as kids.”
“If he can parkour, I don’t see the problem,” the younger one said, and Cel couldn’t help but beg him to speak more. It was clear that he didn’t quite agree with his companion, and unless they wanted to get both themself and Starry in serious trouble, they needed to stay out of sight.
“The problem is that it ain’t right. What kinda life can a retard like that live? Better off dead, I’d say. Not just the boy, either. You see just how unnatural they were all looking?”
Again, another term that Cel wasn’t familiar with, but one that had a distinctly foul feeling to it. It might’ve been something they had heard in passing and been told was bad, or it could’ve been the simple way it was said. Like it was more than just a word or even an insult. There was some kind of weight, heavy and angry and hateful.
Cel’s ears flattened instinctively and they shuffled back.
Did players really think this was about them? And about someone like Starry… how could anyone even dislike him, let alone feel so negative to use a word like that and say that he was better off dead?
Starry was kind and silly and mischievous! He liked to pull little pranks and poke things with sticks. He liked to get into Father’s paints and mix them all up until all the colors turned brown and murky. He was just as good at parkour as the rest of them. Heck, Cel would even argue that he was better than them, despite being younger!
They just couldn’t even begin to understand. These players didn’t even know their family. Cel had never seen them before. They didn’t know either of their names. They were just making… baseless assumptions about something they didn’t know anything about.
Starry looked confused when Cel spelled out an approximation of the word, determined not to leave him out of any of it. He repeated it, spelling the word letter by letter and tipping his head as if hoping they would be able to explain what it was supposed to mean. Cel shook their head. ‘I don’t know,’ they said. ‘But he sounded really angry saying it.’
The younger man didn’t say anything in response. He didn’t agree, or give any indication of what exactly his companion had said, but he didn’t protest either. Didn’t defend them. Cel sank, just a bit. Why did they expect him to? He didn’t know them. He was just… one of two guys, gossiping about the Parkour God’s family.
“The world’s gotten too soft. We used to care so much more about talent and skill, and now everyone acts like there ain’t no reason to even be good at parkour. The Layers are a mess, with the Noobs constantly dirtying our shops and leaving their filth everywhere. The Parkour God cares too much about his boy toys to actually fix anything. And now we gotta act like everything’s all fine, all peachy and perfect? The Hell has Parkour Civilization come to?”
The two players continued to talk, and Cel continued to listen, even as their words grew sharper and sharper with every insult levied at them. Their ears had flattened entirely to their skull, a deep, thrumming rage burning behind their ribs the longer they listened. At some point, Starry let out a low, angry growl, a sound that Cel wasn’t even aware that he could make until that moment.
There were a million things said, none of which Cel really wanted to hear but subjected themself to anyway. Further discussions about their parents hurting them, sly remarks about the nature of their relationship, harsh commentary on Cel and their siblings. The ruder of the two men kept using that same word, the one that Cel and Starry were both unfamiliar with, and every single time Cel felt more and more like they were being pinned beneath a spotlight. Too exposed, too vulnerable. They let their hand rest on Starry’s shoulder during a lull in the conversation, squeezing it softly.
The boy, for the most part, seemed less affected by the whole conversation than Cel was. Rather, he kept glancing over at his older sibling, lips twisted into a frown, emerald eyes glittering with clear concern for the way that they were reacting to it.
These players had no idea who they even were. They only knew their family by reputation. Cel had certainly never seen them before, so it wasn’t too out of the realm of possibility that the players had only ever seen Cel and their siblings on that stage, and not before or since. And yet, they still seemed to act like they knew everything about them! Especially the older of them- the rude player, who kept bulldozing over his companion’s half-hearted protests without even considering them. They made these claims like they were fact.
Cel couldn’t help but feel terribly conflicted on top of everything else. Wouldn’t a good child burst out and defend their family? Wouldn’t a good sibling protest such terrible claims about their brother and sister? How could they just sit here and listen to these players insult Nebby and Starry like this?
There were also a lot of things that they learned that day.
They had always known, somewhere deep down, that their parents weren’t always the most loved people in the world. Some players still saw Dad as a Noob and considered him inherently bad because of that, despite the fact that he was as far removed from a Noob as someone could be. Some players insulted him and called him terrible names just because of his love for Father and Papa.
There were claims being thrown around that Papa had only been given the position of Parkour Champion all those years ago because of that relationship, even though he hadn’t been Parkour Champion since Starry was born over six years ago. That he was evil, violent, murderous. That his claws were used to brand their children and scare them into silence, when Cel knew better than anyone that his claws had only ever been used to brush through hair and fur with such gentleness that it tickled.
Other than the kids themselves, the rumors about Father were the worst, and usually included the most words that the duo didn’t recognize. There were names thrown around, proclamations of their loving Father being nothing more than a slut, a manipulative whore, downright evil, vile, violent, abusive. Both of the men seemed to be in agreement that Cel and their siblings were abused, actually, with nothing but Nebby and Dad’s argument on stage as evidence behind that claim.
Hadn’t they seen that argument, though? Dad never once raised a hand at her. He didn’t hurt her or even push her aside. He had been angry, yes, but it had only been with his words.
(Then again… perhaps the lack of evidence wasn’t taken into account considering the circumstances of that argument. Dad covered in blood, gore, trembling with rage, eyes cold and unfamiliar and Nebby sounding so, so angry-)
It wasn’t just those two players either, they learned. As Cel listened in, careful to keep Starry in the loop as much as possible despite how much the words shook them down to the core, there would occasionally be the voice of another player chiming in. Players coming by to check out the wares that the two men were selling and overhearing the conversation, adding in their own thoughts and theories.
“Oh man, Seawatt? Yeah, everyone knew that he and that one Champion were screwing around. I don’t think I ever saw him without his neck covered in hickeys. Guy can’t resist sleeping with his boss, you know?”
“Nah, the Angel of Death killed more players than all the Pros combined. I refuse to believe he’s suddenly nice now after all this time. That’s a man who enjoys violence, no matter the player. Makes you wonder why the boy never talks.”
“You’re right about that. The old Parkour God wouldn’t have let any of this slide. I swear, we’re just supposed to accept anyone now? What’s even the use of letting someone live if they can’t even talk? I can’t tell if the current one is too soft ‘cause of those messed up kids of his, or if he’s really just that stupid. They say he was a Noob, after all. Wouldn’t surprise me if he was still just as useless as any other Noob, no matter what boots he wears. Once a Noob, always a Noob.”
“The Parkour God’s always been easy to manipulate. He helped Seawatt before, didn’t he? Makes sense that he’d fall for it again. Guy wouldn’t know his own ass from a hole in the ground.”
“Where exactly did those kids come from, anyway? They’re all guys. They had to have done some sick shit to make those three look like them. Can’t think of any way that’d be possible without some sort of mutilation or experimentation. Sounds right up Seawatt’s alley, anyway.”
“Wouldn’t be surprised either. There’s clearly something wrong with them. I can’t explain it- they just look unnatural. Like they shouldn’t exist.”
Cel felt sick.
‘C-e-l?’ Starry asked. There was a lull in the conversation now, the first one in at least a full hour, as a group of players right outside the dimly lit storage area haggled over the prices on something that the men were selling. ‘You okay?’
They didn’t know how to respond. What exactly to say. It would be a lie to say that they were alright. But at the same time, they were supposed to be the older sibling here. When Nebby wasn’t with them, it was Cel that was supposed to make sure nothing bad happened to Starry.
Yet… they were the one to bring him down here. And the one to make him hide with them. Parkour God, Cel had really done nothing but screw up today, huh?
‘Just… don’t understand,’ they said after a moment and a staunch refusal to really answer Starry’s question. ‘Why do they hate them so much? Why do they hate us so much?’ Their hands shook.
Starry pouted and squinted in anger. ‘Cause they’re stupid!’ He responded passionately. ‘They don’t know anything.’ He stuck out his tongue in clear disgust. ‘D-u-m-m-i-e-s, not worth our time.’
They really weren’t worth Cel or Starry’s time; they knew that. But they still couldn’t really bring themself to leave at this point. They had already heard too much, felt too much of that burning hatred and disgust. They looked down at their hands, the fingers trembling at the tips.
Was there something… wrong with them? They had never thought so. Nebby and Starry looked perfectly normal! Sure, Nebby had big ears and Starry had his fangs and Cel their patchy fur that still stubbornly grew from their cheeks and face, but that wasn’t too out of the ordinary! Many players had features like that!
Was it just because of who their parents were? Was it because of how they came to be? Was it because of what Dad had done on that stage? What is because of something they did?
Maybe Cel had said or done something. Maybe they had said or done something that was just… just so awful that everyone immediately thought that they were just raised wrong. Maybe they were raised wrong, if they didn’t know what it was they had done. Surely something who was raised correctly would know if they had messed up that badly, right?
But what about their siblings? Nebby, yes, but mostly the way they talked about Starry. He hadn’t done anything wrong! There wasn’t anything wrong with him, either. He could communicate just as well as anyone else- heck, sometimes he communicated better than anyone else! It wasn’t his fault that other players were too stupid to understand the way he talked! And anyone with a functioning brain would know that he didn’t just stare because he was stupid or dumb or whatever other words they wanted to use. He stared because so many players refused to talk to him in a way he could understand, and so he had to find his own ways. He was really good at reading lips!
They just- they didn’t know him. They didn’t know just how strong he was, or how smart he was, or how silly and fun and bright he was. They didn’t know just how hard he tried to live like anyone else, to not make others have to account for his deafness, to just survive. They only saw these incomplete images of their family and assumed the worst.
Why was it so easy for them to jump to such awful conclusions based on things they had no context for? Sure, the events on that stage were scary, but they had been done as Dad’s way of protecting them. Showing just how far he would go to punish those who wronged his children. Dad loved them. Dad and- and Papa and Father- they loved them so much, and Cel knew it. Nebby knew it. Starry knew it.
Why couldn’t these people see that, too?
‘C-e-l,’ Starry said again, nudging them to get their attention. Cel’s ear flicked in his direction, but they couldn’t tear their eyes away from the direction of the other shop, where those men were still selling their wares and chattering about a million different things they definitely knew nothing about.
They pressed their lips shut, fighting against twin instincts to confront them and to run. Maybe only cowards ran from being insulted like this, but Cel just- they just couldn’t take it.
‘Let’s just go home,’ Cel said, their signs shaky and honestly probably barely legible, but Starry only nodded in agreement. He grabbed their hand and tugged them towards the opposite side of the storage. They didn’t protest, only stopping to make sure no one was looking before slipping out unseen, Starry in tow.
There were no more words between them, and the reason they had come down here in the first place had been forgotten long ago.
…
“Father?”
Celeste had been silent for quite some time after coming home. They hadn’t responded to a single word that had been aimed at them, either verbal or through signing. They couldn’t really bring themself to. Every movement seemed to make their heart ache, like those players’ words earlier were a thorn in their chest, that dug deeper and deeper every single time they so much as breathed. They hadn’t wanted to bring it up at all, at first, still grappling with the idea that they were overreacting by being so hurt by the whole ordeal, but they couldn’t hold it in any longer. The silence was killing them. Their head filled it with angry voices and sharp, mean words. Their fingers stung from how long they had been picking at them as they tried to gain the courage to speak up.
It was just them and Father in the kitchen at the moment. Father was cooking dinner while they watched from afar, trying to let the sound of pans clinging together and sizzling take their mind off of everything. Instead, it only seemed to fester more.
“What’s up, Pancake?” Father said, and it was clear that he was trying to keep his voice casual. Cel wasn’t quite tricked. He had been glancing at them the entire time, brow furrowed as if trying to figure something out. Plus, it wasn’t often that they used that nickname anymore, adopted when Cel was so young they couldn’t even really remember the context behind it. Their best guess was that it was just his way of trying to soothe whatever was making them so anxious without directly calling it out.
“What…” They swallowed, taking a moment to trace the wood grain of the table with one stubby claw. “What do you do when… someone hates you for something you didn’t do? Or… or something you did do, but just didn’t know was wrong?”
Father’s shoulders stiffened, just a fraction. He glanced towards them again, eyes glittering with something that Cel couldn’t quite distinguish. The smell of cooking meat wafted into the air as whatever he was in the process of making sizzled on the skillet. “Where did that come from?” He asked gently. “Did something happen, Cel?”
They gave a soft sigh and looked away, hunched miserably into themself. Father turned down the heat on the stove and turned his full attention towards them.
“What happened?” He pressed.
“I dunno…” They said, voice wobbly. “There were just these players we overheard earlier today. They were saying just… a lot of really mean things about us.”
Father’s eyes narrowed, and Cel could see the way he seemed to be fighting back his emotions. His cheek always twitched in a specific way when he did that, like he was grinding his back teeth and trying to be discreet about it. “Like what?”
Cel wrapped their arms around themself. They hadn’t really been able to get the whole thing out of their head, no matter how hard they tried.
“They were saying stuff about you guys a lot. Calling you names and saying you hurt us,” they said in a low, meek voice. The words weren’t their own, but they still felt almost evil to say. As if simply repeating them would make it seem like they agreed. Their voice dropped to a mere whisper as they continued. “And… they said that me and Nebby and Starry shouldn’t be alive and that we’re freaks and better off dead. Especially Starry. They said- um- that he was weird and unnatural and a retard-“
“Hey-“ Father’s voice turned cold and stiff. Cel immediately shut their mouth, eyes wide. Father’s hands clenched at his robes, knuckles paling with the strain as he squeezed his eyes shut and breathed. Each inhale was slow and deliberate, carefully counted out and measured. “Parkour God,” he muttered under his breath. “Okay. Parkour God- okay. Cel, first, I want to make this clear. That word is not okay to say. About anyone.”
Cel pinned their ears back, guilt bubbling in their chest. So they were right about it. “Sorry,” they murmured. “That’s what they said though. I promise!”
“I believe you,” Father said. “I’m not mad at you, Pancake. You didn’t know before, and now you do.” He ran a hand through his hair and let out a harsh breath. Cel could almost see the way he was holding himself back from saying or doing something. They could see the gears turning in his head, words failing.
“If it’s such a bad word, though… why did they say that about Starry?” They pressed after a moment.
“Because people suck, Cel,” Father replied with a harsh snort of derision. “Because it’s a hell of a lot easier to hate than it is to understand.” He sighed, then reached out one hand to gently cradle their cheek. “Things were… different, before you three came along. Before your Papa was Champion and your Dad was Parkour God. There was an… idea of what a perfect player should look like. Anyone who didn’t fit that image that was made into a Noob and left for dead. For a long time, that was the standard.”
“But why?” They asked with a faint quiver to their voice. “Whats wrong with being different?”
“At the time, we thought it was right,” Father responded carefully. “We were raised to believe that, and so we did. Hell, I thought and acted the same way. It wasn’t until… well, it wasn’t until your Dad that I started to realize just how awful that way of thinking was. Your Papa was the same. Not every player is willing to change their views overnight. It took an entire death and respawn for me to see.” He shook his head. “I want you to understand, Cel, that you and your siblings have done nothing wrong. You don’t have to live up to some sort of image of ‘normal’. You are perfect just the way you are.”
“Is…” They paused, trying to come up with a way to ask the question without seeming rude themself. “Is… something wrong with Starry? That makes people think so many bad things about him specifically?”
Father said nothing for a long, quiet moment. He closed his eyes and ran a hand down his face with a heavy exhale.
“Celeste,” he murmured. “Starry has a disability. You know this.”
Cel’s eyebrows creased and they opened their mouth to respond, but Father pushed forward before they could.
“And I want to reiterate that there’s nothing wrong with that. He isn’t wrong just because he was born different. To you and your sister, living with someone like Starry is so normal you don’t even recognize how strange it is to others. I see the way you two always start signing when he’s in the room, regardless of whether he’s part of the conversation. That’s normal to you. And I’m so thankful to know that you two have adapted so well to living in such a way. But…” Father paced back and forth, hands clasped and eyes narrowed as he searched for words. “Most players aren’t used to interacting with someone who isn’t like them. They’re used to every player being a specific way, so when they see something or- someone- that interrupts that… it’s easier to hate them than it is to change your whole way of thinking. Change is scary, Cel. And to many of these players, they see Starry living and being happy and it feels like change. It’s going to take more than one generation for players to feel comfortable with those who were born like Starry.”
“But there’s nothing wrong with him!” Cel protested. “Why do they care if he talks differently?”
Father’s pacing stuttered, then faltered. He heaved another sigh, then turned his gaze up to stiffly meet his child’s gaze. “Because we used to cull players like Starry, Celeste.”
“…cull?” They repeated faintly. Father’s pacing resumed, more intense this time. “Father, what… what does that mean?”
“How much do you know about The Evil Champion, Cel?”
The Evil Champion? Cel thought for a moment, their face scrunching in consideration. They had certainly heard the name- title?- before, but they realized now they weren’t really familiar with what it meant. Who they were.
“Um… I don’t know a whole lot.”
“He was the Champion before your Dad. Before Papa. And he had… a lot of ideas about what the world should be like. He wanted the world to be what he considered perfect, so if someone wasn’t his idea of that… well, he’d get rid of them.”
Cel’s ears flattened. They had an idea where this was going, and they didn’t like it at all.
“The ones that just weren’t good enough at parkour, we’d send to the Noob Layer. A… lot of bad things happened down there. Not a lot of people got out.”
“Dad was a Noob, wasn’t he?”
“…yeah. He was. And that’s one of the reasons he’s so amazing, too. He survived when nobody expected him to, just like your little brother. But if someone spawned in and they weren’t… perfect… we were told not to even bother to send them to the Noob Layer. We would delete their files on the spot. If we suspected anything was wrong with their joints, their heads, their vision, their… hearing… we were to kill them. So as to not taint his perfect world.”
Cel shrunk back, dark fur bristling on their cheeks as they gazed at their Father. He looked distraught, pacing with his eyes firmly on the ground and away from his middle child.
“‘We’?” They echoed quietly.
Father nodded slowly. He raised a knuckle to his teeth. “Yes. I… helped him.”
“So… so you would kill people like Starry just for being different?”
It was painfully obvious that Father did not want to respond. He was biting down on his knuckle so hard that Cel could see the skin turning red around it with irritation.
“Yes. I did. And… and that’s why I know the views that some players have about you three. I used to believe the same things myself. Your Papa, too. We… weren’t good people in our younger days, Cel. And it was scary to change. Terrifying. Few things will scare a player more than learning that everything they once believed they knew is wrong. So it’s easier just to hate what they don’t understand. Hate will always be easier than love.”
Cel picked at their fingers, shrunken into themself as best as they could. They couldn’t imagine… their own parents acting in such a way. How could they? How could anyone?
Then again… Cel had learned a lot about their parents recently. Things that were better off being hidden forever. Was this just another one of those things? The secrets that Father and Papa held from them?
“Did…” they started, voice wobbly. “Did Papa hurt people, too?”
“He worked under the Evil Champion as well,” Father murmured. “It wasn’t his fault, Cel. He did what he had to to survive. And that is one of the reasons why we are so, so thankful to your Dad. He saved us. He helped us to understand that our way of thinking was wrong. After all, we had been raised to believe that Noobs were filthy, useless, less than nothing… and then he showed up, and he was a Noob, and he was amazing. He wasn’t any different from them. He wasn’t special. He was just a Noob who had had enough, and forced fate to bow to him.”
“Then… why do players say that he’s a bad person? Because of Starry?”
Did he hurt a lot of people, too? I thought the stage was the first time, but…
“It’s… kind of the opposite actually,” Father said with a wry scowl. “Cel, the thing is…” Father shook his head again. He took a moment to check on the cooking meat, grimaced slightly at it, then carefully flipped it over in the skillet. The faint scent of burnt meat wafted into the air. “No matter what happens. No matter what anyone does or says or is. No matter what, you and your siblings will always be our kids. Everyone knows that, now. And that means that the players that hate us… well… they think it’s okay to hate you guys as well, just because you’re ours.”
“But we didn’t even do anything!” They protested.
“You didn’t,” he agreed. “But when you can’t reasonably get revenge on someone, you go for the next best thing. Since your Dad is the Parkour God, they see us two as too powerful to hurt. So… they go for the next best thing.” He lowered his head. “…you.”
“Why…?” Cel pressed. Their mind was swirling with all the information Father was giving them, but there were still such massive pieces missing that they couldn’t quite get the full picture. Like a puzzle missing all of its edge pieces. They couldn’t tell how far it was supposed to stretch, how big the puzzle was supposed to be.
“…because people lost family to the Evil Champion. To the Parkour Villain. They lost family and they wanted revenge, and they’re so blinded by that anger and hatred that they start doing things they normally wouldn’t do. They know what EMF and I have done, but since they can’t hurt us, they want a proxy to hate instead. And you guys just…” he gave a single, unhappy huff. “You guys just look so damn much like us that it’s easy to pretend you are us. Grief and anger aren’t logical emotions. They make you do things that everyone else sees as evil. And you justify it to yourself, over and over again, that you’re right, that it’s everyone else that is wrong. And by the time you realize you are the one in the wrong, it’s so late that you can’t turn back. You can’t take back all the harm you caused. You can’t suddenly become a less hateful person overnight, either. It takes time. Love. And it’s hard to do. It’s easier just to stay that hateful person.
“I had to go through that myself, you know. Back then… I genuinely thought that what I was doing was right. It made sense to me. Why wouldn’t we want a world without flaws?” Father turned his focus entirely onto the food, his face pinched as he poked at the skillet. “Then your Dad showed up, and then a lot of things happened… and in the end I just… was made to realize that the people were never what made Parkour Civilization flawed. Flaws were built into the very crust of it. Culling players that were deemed imperfect did nothing but rid the world of players who could’ve been the smartest, brightest, best people to ever exist. Your brother taught us that. Ah…” He shook his head. “Damn. When did I get so preachy? Maybe your parents have rubbed off on me too much.”
Cel cracked a small smile, despite everything.
“You are not responsible for the nasty things people say, Celeste,” Father continued in a soft voice. “The only person you can take responsibility for is yourself. People are gonna disappoint you. They’re going to hate you for reasons beyond your control. And… and I don’t want to have to say that. I don’t want to be the one that tells my daughter that she’s going to suffer just because people suck.”
Cel’s smile wavered. How hadn’t they realized that they hadn’t talked about that with their parents? Some part of them had just- assumed that since Nebby knew, everyone else would too.
They almost said something, but something made them hesitate. Nebby was okay with it, sure, but maybe Father wouldn’t be…
“But… it’s just… it’s just the truth. They’re going to talk shit because you’re my daughter, because you’re EMF’s, Evbo’s. They’re gonna make up lies and rumors because you have parents who love you, and not everyone does. They’re gonna say and do things to make themselves feel better because they can’t stand the idea of not hating someone. You have done nothing wrong. Starry hasn’t done anything wrong. As he grows up and people start to know him more, you’ll notice those kinds of words starting to fade. They just have to see that you guys are good people, and they’ll start to warm up. With time.”
Celeste hummed, quiet and unconvinced.
“And you know what?” Father asked with a smile. “You’ll never have to worry about any of that here. We already know that you are perfect. We love you enough to make up for all the players who wouldn’t know common decency if it bit them in the ass. Butt. Shit.” Father groaned. “Parkour God, you’d think I would’ve gotten better at not cursing in front of my kids after thirteen years, but alas…”
“So…” they said softly. “They don’t like us because they consider us… bad? Because of you guys?”
“…yeah. That’s… that’s exactly it.”
“…oh.”
They… needed to process this. The idea that no matter what they did, no matter who they were, they would end up being despised. And not even for anything they had done!
They shrunk into themself, arms curling around their chest as they tried to draw comfort from their own warmth. There was a nasty, bubbling feeling in their stomach, queasiness and sadness mixed into something sour and bitter. Father rested a hand on their head.
“I’m sorry, Pancake. You shouldn’t have to experience this. None of you should. Not because of us.”
They didn’t respond immediately, though they did close their eyes and lean into the touch. Father’s hands were not soft like Dad and Papa’s. They were rough and lined with calluses that caught in their hair as he petted it. And yet, there was a certain comfort to his brand of affection, just slightly rougher and more sturdy than their other parents.
“Father?”
“Mm?”
“I don’t understand,” they said softly. “Why did you do those bad things at all? ‘Specially if…”
If those bad things you did were so bad that your children would be hated just for being related to you? If you were knowingly hurting people? If you knew they were bad?
Father slumped his shoulders. “It doesn’t matter the reason. It wasn’t good enough of one in the end.” He gave his child a wry smile. “I was a pretty awful person before you kids came along. Before that… well, I didn’t think I would ever even have kids. Thought it was off the menu after I fell for your Dad and Papa. I intended for my bloodline to go out in a blaze of glory! And, well, now I’m sitting here burning dinner while trying to explain to my daughter how stupid I was. Don’t follow in my footsteps, Cel. Just ends with nothing but your kids getting bullied for things out of their control.” He gave a dejected sigh as he continued working on the stove. Cel’s nose wrinkled as the burning smell got stronger. “…and burning dinner. Damn. Dang. Child friendly variant of curse word.”
Cel let out a soft, breathy chuckle at Father’s words. They didn’t feel much better- actually, they kind of felt worse now that they knew that there was nothing they could do to stop this in the future- but at least they knew why it was happening now.
There was a part of their mind that still burned with the knowledge of Father’s past treatment of players like Starry. If Starry had been born any earlier, would their parents have even bothered to keep him? Or would they consider him a lost cause? ‘Cull’ him, to retain that image of a perfect world. The thought brought tears to their eyes. How could a world be perfect if Starry wasn’t in it?
They couldn’t imagine a life without their little brother. While Cel was older, they had been so young when he was born that they didn’t even really remember what life was like before. He was such an integral part of their world that a life without him felt dull and bland. How could someone enjoy life without that cheeky grin of his, his little pranks, the way he would turn soft and concerned when someone was distressed instead of taking advantage of them? The idea that in the past, he would’ve been killed… by the hand of their own Father, nonetheless- they could barely come to terms with it.
A part of them had always known that their parents had pasts that they weren’t proud of. They hid those pasts like deep, dark secrets, but their kids caught on to more than they knew. They never knew the specifics but they saw the looks. They saw the signs.
“I suppose…” Father said after a moment. “I suppose we’ve hid our pasts from you three long enough.”
Cel perked up, eyes widened at the implication of what they were hearing. Was Father saying…?
“There’s nothing anyone can do to stop players from saying terrible things about us, but… maybe it would help if you were at least able to understand where those things were coming from. I… guess it’d be better if you heard it from us rather than from someone else.”
Cel said nothing, but not for lack of interest. There was a bubble of concern in their chest, that if they spoke now Father would suddenly take it all back. For so long they had wanted to know what had happened in their parents’ pasts. Nebby, Cel knew, was hiding a lot from her younger siblings, but she couldn’t always hide it all. Some of it still leaked down, no matter how hard she tried.
And that knowledge caused Nebby a lot of stress. It was obvious to anyone who knew her. A combination of knowing something was wrong, that something violent slumbered individually within their parents, without knowing exactly what- exactly how to defend against it- and her steadfast belief that she was solely responsible for her siblings’ safety. It was tearing their big sister to shreds.
To be honest, Cel hadn’t really realized how much everything was hurting Nebby until that moment in Ms. Ally’s bathroom. When even Nebby- steadfast, smart, strong Nebby- had been brought to such an extreme low that she couldn’t stop herself from lashing out, from crying, from screaming, from pleading for their Dad. Cel had been consumed with fear for just a moment, hands shakily cradling the wound that bled down their cheek, eyes warily watching their ever-sturdy older sister absolutely crumble under the weight of her responsibilities, but in the end, they could only think about how whatever Nebby was going through must’ve been so much worse.
Cel’s scratches were already almost healed. They might scar, but not deeply, Papa had said, and Father had agreed.
Cel would be fine. Nebby would not.
So maybe, maybe, if they could just answer the why of the situation, things would become easier.
“Please?” They asked in a small, soft voice.
“It’s not a happy story to tell,” Father said softly. “None of them are. We haven’t wanted to tell you guys because of that. Your Dad, especially.” He breathed in slowly. “We’ve never wanted you to view us as anything other than your parents. And… and no matter what happened in any of our pasts, we don’t want you to think that it means anything less of you. Or that you deserve the harassment some players think is acceptable.”
Cel clenched their hands into fists and pressed their lips together. They blinked and gazed back up at Father, eyes wide and innocent. “Is it that bad?” They whispered.
What they had already heard from Father was bad enough, but the way he was speaking made it sound like there was more. How could it get any worse than the knowledge that he used to hurt and kill players just like Starry, for seemingly not fitting into the image of a ‘perfect world’?
Cel felt their stomach twist in fear at the implications.
Father gave them a sad smile. “I’m afraid so, Pancake.”
They clenched their hands around the fabric of their top, frowning deeply. “I… I think we should all know.” Especially Nebby.
“Okay.” Father breathed out and nodded. “Okay. Yeah. Let me… let me talk to your Dad and Papa about it, okay?”
That nervous-sick feeling only got worse with the way that Father spoke, but they had no intention of backing out now. If not for their sake, then for Nebby’s. She deserved to know if nothing else.
They left the kitchen only feeling more disturbed than they had entered. Hearing terrible things said about their family had been bad enough, but there was almost something worse about the way that Father seemed to understand where those words had come from, and had only seemed upset that they were being levied at his children rather than himself… like it would’ve been justified otherwise. Like it was perfectly reasonable that people would think him a terrible, abusive monster. They couldn’t shake the feeling that it was more than just the lives that Father had helped to take. That there was something else, something almost worse, that had been the catalyst for such a strong hate in his people.
What kind of players did their parents used to be? How bad did their stories get, if they had been so afraid to tell them?
What had they done?
And… did Cel really want to know those stories?