Chapter Text
Biology of the Earth - Introduction
In this world, which functions as a well-oiled machine does, everyone has a place.
Watchers: who shape the world but can not shape the people,
Listeners: who guide the people in their worlds,
Speakers: who communicate in their places of worship.
The people who were not of the gods were the Deviants, who throughout history, would intermingle with the gods, eventually becoming as diverse, and more than the ancient gods were. They were able to shape the world and guide each other and communicate freely by all sorts of means. With the Deviants fast filling the roles of the ancients, the gods began to fade, one by one, into the people similar to Deviants, with much diminished powers. All of them faded, except for one branch of the Watchers, who became the High Watchers.
Another divide between the Deviants and the Gods was their wings. Until the lines between gods and Deviants began to blur, only the gods had wings. After a long time, Deviants developed their own. As of the last century, Watchers had the wings of birds, Speakers had the wings of dragons, Listeners had the wings of insects, and Deviants had a wide range, including the mix and match of wing types. Many Deviants would forever be flightless, from genetic injuries or lack of wings at birth. No substitution for wings has ever been made. Deviants are weaker and less intelligent than the descendants of gods-
Martyn shut the book and shoved it back under his bed, hearing it thunk against the wall with a spike of hateful joy. It was too self-centered for a sane person’s taste, or anyone who didn’t want to be yelled at in the streets. He stood, stretching. The antennae curling from his eyebrows seemed to be more unfurled today. That was a good thing; it meant he was reaching maturity and would be able to interact with the other species as an adult would, according to the elites in Listener culture. Today would be his first banquet, which was for another treaty with the Deviants over trade routes. Martyn knew it would be boring as all get out, but his family needed him to be there.
He looked in the mirror. Same clothes as yesterday would do. Martyn put on a bow tie, to humor the solemnity of the event. He didn’t care.
Next, he spread his wings to admire their span. The iridescent yellow would contrast perfectly with his lime and camo green bomber jacket. He wasn't too vain, at least not as much as many other Listeners, but Martyn needed to look, at the very least, presentable. Satisfied, the Listener straightened his bowtie and left his room.
He lived in the library, now that his own family shunned him for not living up to their legacy or whatever. Just because he had a slim chance of marrying into the “true” royal line didn’t mean he had to take it. Martyn’s real dream would benefit the Listeners more: Being an explorer. Helping Deviants, like the Watchers and Listeners and Speakers did long ago. He has big dreams, ones that weren't able to get done via meeting of every nation known to anyone.
Eventually, he made his way out of the sprawling library (Listeners were the most intelligent species, of course) and onto the landing docks. Martyn secured his many pockets shut and spread his wings before taking off in the direction of the stronghold. His parents were probably there or on their way already. Not like they cared enough to ask if he was ready.
Listeners and Deviants lived in the Overworld, Speakers had, for some reason or another, been driven off into the Nether. Or they chose to live there for some reason. Everyone, except Deviants, had originated in the End. Only the Watchers stayed, to hone their power. At least that's what Martyn had gleaned from the textbook before it became too insufferable.
As Martyn landed before the stronghold’s entrance, he stumbled over someone’s boot and fell.
“Sorry ‘bout that,” the person said. They sounded less than eager to apologize. Looking up, Martyn saw a butterfly-like Deviant about his own age, dressed in what was probably formal Mezalean attire. As Martyn stared up at the Mezalean, they began to speak again.
“Actually, I take that back. Why did you almost land on the prince of Mezalea?” he demanded.
Martyn looked around theatrically. ‘I don’t see a prince,” he snapped, hoping to push the kid’s buttons. If this stuck up jerk got to be rude, then so would Martyn.
The royal seemed to swell in anger. “You Listeners are dumber than you look. And you look pretty dumb. Ha!” The prince stalked back over to his superiors, convinced that he had destroyed Martyn's ego. Martyn continued on his way, his advanced hearing allowing him to hear the annoying prince laughing longer than necessary.
After exactly zero wrong turns, Martyn entered the portal room. A few more Deviants and a handful of Speakers and Listeners were still there, waiting. Martyn was late. Embarrassed, he entered the End and hurried over to the meeting tower.
His parents were there, judging him already. “You’re late,” his mother complained. His father didn’t even acknowledge his presence.
“Stay here and watch the meeting, like the Elves,” his mother ordered.
So, Martyn sat. He fiddled with his belt. When he was handed a stemmed glass of water, Martyn blew bubbles in it through a hollow stem he'd brought from the overworld.
A stern but quiet cough got his attention. One of the Elves, around his age, shot him a glare. Martyn smiled sweetly back. The kid rolled his eyes, unamused. Such a stuck up guy, but some people are like that, Martyn decided.
As a short fanfare declared the arrival of the High Watchers, everyone stood up and applauded. Except for Martyn. He slipped under the long table and sat under it. Under the table was very nice. Once there were legs back under it, though, the table would become cramped again. But from there, he saw a small hand beckoning him. Martyn crawled in the direction of the hand. As the applause stilled, Martyn was pulled out from under the table by a variety of children. One of them was short with a smug expression. Martyn had an unfortunate reminder of the Mezalean from earlier, but this was a Watcher fledgeling. The kid looked over the outfit Martyn had on, including the now-crumpled bow tie.
“You’re not dressed for a party,” the kid remarked.
Martyn took a look at the kid’s outfit: a red knit sweater and shorts cinched above his twig-thin bird legs. “Neither are you,” he shot back.
The Watcher’s face split into a grin. He held out his hand. “Ah, you bested me. I'm Grian,” he said expectantly.
Martyn supplied his name.
“Cool, cool. These guys are my friends: Pearl, Scar, and Mumbo,” Grian said.
All three of them waved in turn.
Mumbo was a Speaker with short blond hair beginning to change to black, Pearl was a Listener with copious mood scales, and Scar might have been a Watcher, based on his green wings.
“Why don't you come along with us instead of being boring like Scott?” Pearl suggested, gesturing to the young Elf who had glared at Martyn earlier.
Pearl led him to the other children, who were around Martyn’s age, and they introduced themselves. Among them were two other Listeners. Everyone in the group seemed to get along well, as if Martyn was the only royal who didn’t go to councils. Pearl seemed barely old enough to fly and she still went! She must not have been from the same Listener branch as Martyn, then.
Grian hung out with a few Watchers and Speakers himself, seeming to be familiar with a couple of Speakers in particular, including Mumbo. They all seemed to know each other.A lot of the other Speakers and Deviants were building what turned out to be a scale model trebuchet, which they claimed would be able to launch TNT. Then, Martyn was handed over to Scar, who was best described as a handful.
“Scar, even though you just met Martyn, you two should hang out,” Grian stated. Scar had his wings flared out now. They were much smaller than Grian’s and mottled mossy green. He, as his name suggested, was covered in scars ranging from small cuts to burns to entire chunks of skin gouged off his arms. His small wings were miraculously in pristine condition.
“Hi,” Martyn mumbled. Scar started up a friendly conversation, and they chatted for a little while before a certain someone entered their area.
“Joel! Glad you could make it!” Grian flitted over to the Mezalian prince.
Joel scowled. “I would have been here earlier if some Listener hadn’t stomped on me until I was unable to walk,” he fibbed.
Grian didn't seem to believe him, if his bored expression was anything to go off of.
Martyn’s head snapped up. “Oh really? You wanna know what it’s like to get beaten up by a Listener? Being a doormat or whatever you claim will be nothing against what I’m-”
Someone put a steady hand on his shoulder.
“Get off me, Impulse,” Martyn hissed. He unfurled one of his wings, letting it push the Speaker away.
Impulse fell backwards surprisingly easily, and no one came forward to restrain them again. They must have wanted a fight.
Now able to get to the point, Martyn launched himself at Joel.
For either good or bad, the prince put up a good fight. Martyn took a few hits from Joel, but Joel blocked most of the punches Martyn made.
“Had enough yet, butterfly?” Joel sneered after a particularly devastating punch to Martyn’s gut.
Martyn staggered back, but flicked open his wings and boosted himself in the air, landing on the Mezalean’s chest. Joel just lay there, looking angry. Martyn leaned down.
“Look how fate plays out. Looks like this ‘being a doormat’ is your job now,” Martyn laughed to himself. Joel scowled but was unable to retaliate.
“Alright, alright. Break it up, you two. This meeting was supposed to be sacred,” A new person entered the tower.
Guiltily, Martyn stepped away from Joel.
Joel similarly didn’t want to pick a fight again and took a giant step away.
“Scott! Glad you could make it outta boring land!” Grian walked over and extended his hand. Scott slowly reached out and took it elegantly.
“It’s a pleasure,” he said.
To Martyn, Scott seemed like no fun at all. At least everyone else was on the same flight path for once. Especially as he flounced perfectly back to the adults at the council.
Another Deviant stepped forward. “Looks like Scott forgot to introduce his less-than-perfect big brother,” he said. Most of the crowd looked on, confused. Scott scowled. Scar gave a polite wave.
“Looks like I’ll have to introduce myself,” he muttered. Sweeping into a bow, he spoke his title in a boasting voice. “I am Prince Xornoth, of Rivendell, and heir to the throne.”
“Sweet! I’m Grian, and these guys are…”
Martyn tuned Grian out as he walked over to the balcony overlooking the End.
“Why is it called the End if all life came from here?” Martyn wondered aloud.
Jimmy silently crept up and took a position next to Martyn. The Listener with amber orange wings looked far into the black distance of the End, then spoke “It’s because so many battles were fought here, for life. So many types of life were destroyed, leaving Watchers, Listeners, and Speakers. Everything else was slain,”
“Except for the Deviants,” Martyn added.
Jimmy nodded. “They were spared, as they had only discovered the End, not spawned from,”
Martyn sat quietly. It was unlike Jimmy to be so… religious. Jimmy was only like this when he was brooding. The thought made him uncomfortable; Martyn got up and headed back to the adult meeting.
All of them were standing up and shouting. Martyn could pretty easily tell who was who from meeting their children.
Joel’s parents and Xornoth’s parents were arguing with Martyn’s own.
“Well, how are we supposed to get the roots to your sky kingdom!” Joel’s father roared, green wings outstretched angrily. His wife nodded.
Most of the others continued arguing, and Martyn stood quietly. Eventually and upsettingly, he was noticed.
“Oh, Martyn. Glad you could finally make it,” his mother oozed. “I thought I told you to stay here, and not with those bad influences.”
Martyn could feel color rising to the flecks on his cheeks. “Most of them are older than me,” he pointed out, “and I wasn’t the one arguing over tree roots,”
His father stepped over, wings spread regally even though he was only a minor monarch. “I saw you fighting that Mezalean boy,” he pointed out.
Now it was the Mezalean king’s turn to step over. “He antagonized Joel even before we made it to the meeting,”
All the royals were arguing again, but it was now over what offense that Martyn ‘committed’ that was the worst.
“He’s wearing that hideous explorer outfit!”
“This is his first council, there should have been an attempt!”
“I just don’t like him.”
“He’s only ten!” Grian yelled. The Watcher fledgeling had come over to watch the commotion. His wings were beginning to flare out, a warning.
“Well, I was already to sign treaties at five, he’s not special,” Scott’s father muttered, flicking an ear.
Martyn’s mother turned to face the crowd. The scales on her cheeks were flesh colored, not showing any emotion. “So, I would like you to be a vote of judgement, since all of us gathered here have some knowledge of my son. On this day, guided by the Watchers, Listeners, and Speakers above, I am now banishing my son, Martyn. He will be unable to seek refuge in the kingdom of the Listeners as long as I or his father are alive,” his mother made a shooing motion in Martyn’s direction. “The new heir to our position will be the orphaned royal, currently a servant, by the name of James.”
Jimmy staggered from the balcony, looking shocked. Scar gave him a little nudge and he walked over to Martyn’s family, which would now function without him.
“You are no longer welcome at this meeting,” someone who might have been Grian’s father snapped.
Martyn left without saying a word. The world seemed to be spinning and slowly blurring into infinitesimal noise and light.
Back down the pillars, and before stepping into the portal down, Impulse caught up to Martyn and grabbed his arm.
“Why don’t you come to the Nether with us, and be an explorer? There’s always new stuff being discovered there,” he offered.
Martyn considered for a moment, then smiled. “Wouldn’t mind leaving the Overworld for a while, too. I’ll go,”
The rest of the children descended the pillar to say their goodbyes.
“If you ever need me, I’ll be in some position of power in the Hermit Territory,” Scar said, much too confidently for the situation or any kind of foresight.
Grian stepped up next to Scar. “Yeah, I’ll be goin’ with, I think, after I become a High Watcher.” Grian also spoke with a finality, as if he would just happen to do everything he wanted right the first time.
Pearl didn’t say anything, just looked sad. Xornoth shook Martyn’s hand and said he’d ‘see him around’ or something. Even Joel managed to look upset.
“I bet Jimmy wanted to say good-bye, but couldn’t,” Grian said. Martyn didn't mention Jimmy's earlier mood swing.
Impulse put a hand on Martyn’s shoulder. “Time to go?” he asked.
“Yeah,” Martyn whispered back. The two stepped into the portal, transporting them back to the stronghold. Martyn didn’t look back in a metaphorical sense, but he did glance queasily over his shoulder at the portal before he took off after Impulse, starting his new life.