Camrad_RIP: переводы

→...Huh. I never thought of it like this, but I have MacGuffins for parents. That’s kinda awesome.

→I once asked Zian how strong he would have to be before he’d act to save innocents from the Purge, but he didn’t answer and just walked away. Now, I understand why. It’s not the Purge I’m fighting against, nor is it inequality, slavery, or any other hot button issue. If my goal is to change the world for the better, then my enemy becomes the Emperor and Imperial Clan themselves, the true ruling elite who propagate and enable all of the above and will undoubtedly resist any efforts to change.

→As for the other thing, since using Chi is based on Visualization and Intent, I can assume Heavenly Energy is the same way, so how can I expect a turtle, Divine or otherwise, to know I need my Spiritual Self fixed and then go about fixing it? Even if he wields the Energy of the Heavens, the concept is several magnitudes too complex for most people much less a hyper intelligent animal, but I’m still a little irked he won’t wave his turtle arms and put me back together again. Lastly, even though I have no proof, I’m almost certain Blobby dumped me for him, and if anyone might know how to repair a broken Core or keep my Spiritual Weapons from crumbling apart at a touch, it’d be a quasi-sentient droplet of Heavenly Water.

→Another point of contention which has been gnawing away at me is how he is probably the most powerful being living in the citadel, yet he gives zero fucks about my plight. Logically, I shouldn’t hold this against him because... well, he’s a turtle. What does he know about politics, warfare, or Healing? Animals fight only when forced to, and even as powerful as he is, Pong Pong’s first instinct is to flee. He wouldn’t even fight against Lei Gong to save himself until my Aura tricked him out from the depths of the Azure Sea, so I shouldn’t resent him for not coming to my rescue in Sinuji.

→While she’s grown more lax about letting me out of her sight, she still insists on following me to all my meetings with Imperial Scions even though I haven’t given her any Chi Tea for months now. It makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside to know she likes me for me and not just for Chi Tea, but I still haven’t figured out how she knows when it’s dangerous and she needs to tag along. As for Pong Pong, either he doesn’t know, or he doesn’t care, and is all too happy to stay behind and sleep. Maybe it’s because he’s smarter and has lived longer than the rest, but I get the feeling Pong Pong sees our relationship as a transaction more than anything else. I provide the shrimp, safety, and scritches, and in return, he poops in a pan.

→Dressed in black Death Corps armour, the former Royal Guardian grimaces as I call his name, but the expression disappears as he straightens to full attention. “This slave once bore this name,” he says, his voice monotone and eyes betraying his bitter outrage, “But no more. For crimes unbefitting of an Imperial Scion, this slave was sentenced to serve in the Death Corps and has yet to receive his designation.”

→Adorable as this all is, I can’t help harbouring reservations about my tiny turtle friend, because I’m not sure that’s what he is. A friend, not a turtle, because the shell kinda gives it away. While I’m happy to keep his Martial Prowess a secret, I’m a little miffed he’s never shown me any love like Ping Ping does.

→Making an effort not to stop and cry, I settle in beside Dad while Mom looks me over from head to toe. “Did you sleep well?” she asks, her eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Are you feeling any discomfort? Should I send for Taduk? I would not put it past the Legate to dose you with something unsavoury or deal with you in some other underhanded manner.”

→I’m not even sure if he meant for me to learn about the power of his poop, or if he just enjoys watching me clean up after him.

→Moving slowly so he doesn’t think I’m trying to grab him, I rub Pong Pong’s head in greeting. “Hey there little guy,” I whisper, mostly because I’d feel silly speaking out loud. “You sleep good?” While he doesn’t understand Common, Pong Pong responds with a big yawn before wagging his butt side to side in appreciation for the early morning scritches. Despite having been a part of the family for over half a year, the beautiful yellow markings on his smooth, green shell still blow me away, as the intricate designs look more fitting on a piece of expensive jewellery than a living creature. It’s almost hypnotic watching the striking patterns move back and forth while Pong Pong dances in place, his eyes closed and mouth open in sheer bliss as I work my massage magic. All animals love scritches, it’s a universal truth which no creature can escape from, and if I were to call myself the second best scritcher under Heaven, then no one would dare claim to be first.

→Divine Turtle he may be, but he has the personality of a spoiled six-year-old, which would be cute if he didn’t also have the power to rearrange my bones without so much as lifting a finger.

→Putting the guesswork aside, I hug Mama Bun close and kiss her head, seeking comfort in her presence as she finds comfort in mine. Though she stirs in her sleep, it’s not enough to wake her up, so utterly relaxed in my presence and trusting me to keep her safe. Unlike Mama Bun, Pong Pong is suspicious by nature and pokes his head out of her fur to see what all the fuss is about, but after glaring about this way and that, he decides it’s safe to come out and start the day. After doing a few turtle stretches on the bed, he turns his gaze to me and waves a leg in my direction, which is his way of telling me to pick him up.

→Wait... what if he wants the Bekhai to rebel so he can sacrifice our fifteen-thousand soldiers to unite millions of others behind him?

→“His motives matter not.” Drawing himself up to full height, Dad pats himself on the chest. “I care little for matters of politics, but your health and happiness are of paramount importance. Motivations aside, the Legate’s gift has allowed my son to wake before noon and lessened his pain, so what price would be too high to pay?”

→Hmm. I never really noticed it before today, but I am just super depressing without drugs...

→Not by the shell, which is a big no no because only Mama Bun is allowed to hold him tight. I have yet to earn this privilege, so I offer him the palm of my hand and wait for him to climb on of his own free will, while resisting the urge to close it tight as a joke. He’s a very particular turtle with picky tastes, but I suppose if anyone has the right to be finicky, it’d be Pong Pong.

→Thanks to the pudding, I had the best night’s sleep I’ve had in years, and now that I’m awake, I feel good. Damn good, as in the absence of crippling agony good. Don’t get me wrong, everything still hurts, but in an ‘aching bones and sore muscles’ sort of way, instead of ‘Oh my God, get me my drugs or kill me now’ thing. My head is clear, my breathing easy, and it doesn’t feel like the atmosphere is trying to crush me into a meat paste, which is pleasant and all, but the better I feel, the more suspicious I am. The magic elixir wasn’t cheap and couldn’t have been easy to procure, so what’s the Legate’s game? I sincerely doubt he did all this out of the goodness of his heart, which means he expects something in return for his investment, but what? I don’t believe he did it to secure the goodwill of the people, or rather, it can’t be all he’s after, so there has to be more.

→If I could, I’d take whatever was in that pudding, cram it into a syringe, and inject it straight into my veins. I bet this is how Mama Bun feels when eating Spiritual Plants, and it lends confidence towards my future, because with unlimited Spiritual Plants thanks to Pong Pong’s poop, it’s only a matter of time before I figure out something comparable to the Legate’s restorative elixir.

→Luckily, our meeting last night went better than expected, though I wasn’t exactly in the right frame of mind to think things through until now. I went into that meeting ready to argue my case against Yang Jixing, but the second I stepped into the room, I was side-tracked by the delicious aroma of sweet tofu pudding and cane sugar syrup with a hint of spicy ginger. I’ve had tofu pudding before, and it’s delicious, but I’ve never tasted anything as wonderful as the eight bowls I ate last night. Whatever special ingredients the Legate added made the tofu pudding irresistible to my nutrient starved body, and now I’m worried I’ll never enjoy eating anything else ever again. If it wasn’t for Luo-Luo warning me to ease off, I might’ve gotten real snippy with the Legate after he refused to sell me the recipe, which would’ve been an unimaginably stupid thing to do.

→Take the Legate for example. On the surface, he is an approachable and magnanimous man with gorgeous features, perfect teeth, and a magnetic personality, but underneath all the smiles and kind words lies a man driven by costs and benefits. Every time we’ve met, he brings up the things he’s done for me and the expectations he holds, because he isn’t trying to win my loyalty, but aiming to buy my freedom. He doesn’t want a partner, or even a subordinate; he wants a tool to use, a weapon to wield, and a slave in everything but name, which is a status I will not accept.