Content notes: internalized ableism
That day set the pattern for the coming days.
During the day they were back to work on the walls. On some days, the gruff-one and tall Lefeng stayed home, so the work went quicker. Kyawtchais thought ey could feel the family weaving itself together even as the walls rose around them. Seeing their progress, thoughtful-Kolchais excused emself halfway through the third day to arrange the next delivery of supplies.
Kyawtchais stayed for dinner each night. As promised, before dinner ey took some time to teach Chestef to spin. While the spindle turned and the fiber twisted (and untwisted) the family talked. Small things mostly, but often partway through the meal someone would ask a question or share a memory that sent them down a sharing-current and they would end the night sharing things that were too painful to speak of during the day.
Eventually, talk of the past led to talk of the future. What trade would their family take up?
“We’re all so different,” Lefeng said one night. “It’s a strength on the trail, but a challenge here.”
It was true enough, Kyawtchais knew. They needed a trade all the parents could take part in. Better if it’s something the grandparents could help with until there are more kids to take care of. But they didn’t share any skills. Lefeng spent most of eir life learning the wilderness, even Kyawtchais understood that few of eir skills would be useful in the city. And those that were often physical skills. Running, for instance, or chopping wood. Some families specialized in those things — many of them. That was part of the problem. They needed something the council would consider valuable, not something repeated multiple times throughout the city.
Worse, Kolchais’ illness meant ey could not handle any work that required a lot of moving around. Fine work ey could do, and ey had joined Kyawtchais’ spinning lessons after the first few days. But the town didn’t need another spinning family. Kyawtchais’ family wasn’t the only spinning family and many of the other textile-focused families also spun on the side. Thanks to eir messenger-family’s neglect, Kolchais had few skills to bring to a family, though ey knew the city and was good at problem solving.
It was a puzzle, one Kyawtchais enjoyed. Like the patient-focused-joy of untangling knotted yarn. Not everyone felt the same.
Kolchais became more depressed with each trade they rejected. It wasn’t long before ey was pointing out the many trades they /could/ do — if Kolchais wasn’t there.
Lefeng and the grandparents tried to reassure and support Kolchais, but Kyawtchais noticed that their words only helped for a short time before Kolchais was again speaking poorly of emself.
Kyawtchais went home early one day, to sit and spin and think. The other SilentSpinners gave em space. Partly through understanding Kyawtchais and how ey was. Partly that ey wasn’t fully part of the family anymore. Ey had already had one foot in a new current when the ColorworkWeavers died and never entirely returned. Now ey was leaving again, neither gone nor part of the family.
Sometimes it was awkward and uncomfortable. On this day it was a relief. As the thread twisted, ey pulled out eir memory of every conversation about Kolchais’ skills to find the flaw in the reasoning.
It didn’t take long. Like most knots, pulling the right string made it fall apart.
The next evening that Kolchais despaired of being able to contribute, Kyawtchais told em to stop being silly. “Whatever trade this family goes into, you have a skill to offer. You are a good bargainer. Better than many who spend every day at the market.”
Kolchais shrugged morosely. “That’s helpful for getting food and things, but doesn’t contribute to a trade.”
Kyawtchais flicked eir fingers, saying “wallowing-stop.” Then continued with mouth-speech. “You will need to bargain for supplies. For how much this family is paid. For space in the market to sell your goods.”
Eir eyes brightening, Chotaikytsai nodded. “Ey is right. I took part in some of the bargains with eir family. A good bargainer can make or break a family.”
Kolchais took a deep breath and nodded. “Alright. You really think I’m that good?”
“If Kyawtchais says so, none of us are going to doubt it,” the gruff-one said.
“It’s not just bargains,” tall-Lefeng added. “A family needs more than just a trade. It needs someone to handle discussions with other families, to negotiate marriages for the children. In this blasted city, someone needs to track the money, and… and we’re going to need to have our own tokens, aren’t we? Death and stillness!”
Kolchais smiled a bit, “A family needs a protector. And someone who knows how to cook without poisoning us.”
Kyawtchais wasn’t sure but thought Lefeng’s expression would be embarrassed. “Fine,” Lefeng threw a bit of kindling at the wise-one. “Yes, someone needs to be watching out for you soft city-folk. And no, I won’t do any more cooking. But I don’t want to hear any more about you not having anything to contribute.”
Kyawtchais hand-speaks eir agreement.
“Alright.” Kolchais sat up straighter. “But that doesn’t get us any closer to finding a trade for this family.”
“It does,” Kyawtchais said, “Because you will no longer feel outside the current.”
“Be quiet,” Kolchais tossed the kindling at Kyawtchais, “If I can’t wallow anymore you can at least not rub my nose in it.”
Later that night, when Kyawtchais said goodnight to return to the SilentSpinners, the small-one walked em to the gate. “Thank you,” ey said. Ey held out eir hands. After a moment, Kyawtchais remembered the gesture meant an offer for a hug.
Kyawtchais stepped into the small-ones arms and returned the hug. “You know I will welcome you as my child. I am Chotaikytsai.”
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