#oc fig

Fig was constantly checking their watch, knowing their mother would expect them home soon for dinner. Still, they weren’t quite ready to leave the scrapyard, as there were still so many marvelous finds to be had. Plus there weren’t that many risks, as the sentry that usually guarded this yard had switched over to the other one he was in charge of for the day. Still it was best to be cautious, because if they were caught it would be at least five years in jail. It was stupid, but that was the case with most laws.

Pulling something out of the rubble, Fig realized that they had discovered a whole robot. Their eyes started to widen a bit, they quickly stuffed it in their bag o’ junk as they called it, and started making their way to their hideout.

Fig had been walking for five minutes before the pin like pain in their legs became sharper. Pulling out their bag, they rummaged through it a bit, before pulling something that looked like a weird 3D cube out. Pressing a button a wonky, uneven, walker appeared, made out of mostly metal and each side was a bit uneven. However, the seat was made out of sanded down wood, as they didn't have leather to make it more comfortable yet. While it was still a work in progress, they used it when they could because it did make their life easier. Regretfully though, they couldn't use it often, as not even their family knew it existed, and Fig knew it would be an awkward conversation to have. So they had gotten used to using it on the tough forest terrain, still working on making it better to go over roots and other various obstacles.

Naking it to their hideout, Fig quickly looked over the robot; using the little magic they knew to look at any spots they couldn’t easily get to. They were looking for any alarms or trackers even though the sentries would’t notice nor think to track a discarded robot, because if Fig set off the alarm they would have to move their hideout again. Which was not ideal, especially with all the stuff this place held, and how long it had taken them to build it here.

Getting rid of the devices was easy enough, they would just go back to the junkyard and destroy them on their way home. The sentries would think that the rest of the scraps had destroyed the thing.

Sighing, Fig glazed longingly at their hideout, before they pressed a button and their walker became a cube again. They started heading back the way they came, putting on their gas mask, just in case the sentries spotted them on the way back. While they were part changeling and could therefore change some of their facial features, because they weren't a full changeling, they couldn't do much with it.

After disposing of the trackers, Fig went a bit away, taking off their gas mask and hid behind a tree to take a five minute walking break.

*************************

Fig ate silently as they listened to the chaos, that was their family, surround them. Getting back home had been a journey and a half without their walker, but it was important that they put it away for things, in order to stay safe. After all if the sentries found out about it, they would most certainly be screwed. Looking outside through a window, they realized it was sunset, and they couldn’t help but be amazed at how pretty it was, even though it came by every night. It was stunning, always changing, and yet its beauty never seemed to fade, and Fig was certain that they had the best sunsets in the kingdom. Jarolend, their friend that they talked to when they could, agreed.

Still, Fig wanted to explore, they wanted to see the world. But it wasn’t safe to, not since they’re a changeling. Changelings have been viewed as one of the worse races, since before the infamous war, however that war had just made things worse.

The official narrative was that, changelings, orcs, drow, goblins, and dragons rose up in opposition to the other races. That their greed and lust for money and power drove them to their demise, that they committed unspeakable crimes, that they were evil. And everyone was just supposed to accept that, even the races that this rhetoric effected.

However, Fig had been doing research of their own, looking through their ancestors’ journals to see what it was really like back then. They were grateful that their mother kept the journals, although they were slightly less grateful that these journals were on the top shelf of her bedroom. That made it harder for Fig to look through them, and they knew their mom didn't want them looking through the journals. But Fig had always been rather curious, and they just couldn't accept the narrative that they were bad. That they were here to take someone else's place and steal their livelihood, that they were evil like the textbooks said. It helped that the town was inhabited by other unprivliged races, it helped that the elders assured them when they were kids that it was the world that was wrong. But it sucked, the culture that was stripped from all of them, in fear that they would rise up, that they would revolt against unfair laws. So almost no one in town was allowed to practice magic. That didn’t stop Fig, though they practiced in secret. Still, they wished they were able to do more, and be more free. But they couldn’t, so in public they conformed to the rules set out for them. Have a set look, and don’t change it; hair stays the same, eyes stay the same, nails stay the same. Nothing changes. And they couldn’t help but feel that’s how society was anyways, stagnant, hopeless and resistant to change. And they hated it. But that’s what their tinkering was for, it was fun to do and a fuck you to the government. It wasn’t something that did something technically, but it felt good, especially when Fig felt helpless to do anything to change the world.

“-ig! Fig!” Their head snapped up to greet their mother’s voice.

“Yeah?”

“Are you okay honey? You’ve just been poking at your food all night.”

“Yeah mom, I'm alright, just wish I could visit Jarolend more often."

Fig hated lying, it always meant that it was just one more thing they couldn't share with their family. But if anyone knew that they were stealing from the scraps, well it wouldn't be pleasant if someone found out.

"I know. Maybe when you have your own money..."

"I've been trying to find someplace to work! But you know how hard it is!"

"I know, I know. Still, if you do manage to get the funds to visit your friend tell her I said hi!"

"I'll tell em."

Their mother might still be getting used to their friend’s new pronouns, as ey had come out close to when ey had left, but it still sucked that Fig had to be the one to correct her. That it felt like for all their mom’s trying, she never really got it. Despite being a changeling, and the concept of gender being fluid, that she thought the only options were girl and boy. Sometimes, it felt like while you could be either, you couldn’t be both at the same time or neither. Which isolated Fig even more as they were trying to figure themselves out. But they knew their mother didn’t mean to, and that she’s trying, so they tried not to hold it against her.