WE BECOME THOUGHTLESS

thirty-seven | old bodies

Tris prodded at his food with the disinterested turn of his head. His stomach rumbled. "This does not look like fruit."

A peal of laughter slipped from the boy sitting next to him, who ripped at his piece of food with his teeth. He chewed for a moment before spitting out the pip. "It's been left out under the sun for a few days now, I think. Still tastes good."

Tris' eyebrows shot up, and he turned his whole body to face him properly, lifting an apple with too-waxy skin and a chunk ripped out from its side. "Seb, some of these look like rat brains. Like an animal coughed up its brain and left it to rot in our fruit basket!"

The boy – Seb – slapped him lightly on his shoulder and gave a little shake. "Relax, they'll be refilled in a few days, and you might wanna give it a try before you start getting judgemental. Advena don't get to be picky."

Tris turned back, muttering something about the kitchens and how the Aldine's were picky enough for the lot of them, and pulled his lips back to take a small, miniscule bite of his apple. The skin broke beneath his teeth. A full body shudder passed over him, and he threw the fruit into the dirt, losing his appetite despite having worked all day under the hot sun.

Seb sighed. "Pick that back up and eat it. You're getting too skinny."

"Yeah, well guess what the Lady Fabia said to me the other day?"

This time he rolled his eyes, taking one big bite out of his dried plum before tossing it further into the field. The pair were sat over the two steps leading into the kitchen behind them, and before them stretched a clearing of dirt, before fading into the northeast wheat field. The entire manor was cast in a golden evening glow. Tris loved this time of day.

"I don't want to hear about what the Lady said. She just likes to mess with people's heads, especially new advena." Seb tutted, still chewing.

Tris exhaled loudly. "But she talked to me! Are they supposed to do that?"

Seb didn't look at him, but leaned in to rest his chin against a loose fist. His knees were pulled up near his chest. "They do what they want. The rest of them think its endearing that the Lady would stoop to talking to us, as if we're not even part of their household."

Tris reeled back and paused, watching his friend with a head leaned back to rest against the doorframe. "I've never heard anyone talk about them like that before."

"Oh, I'm sure they'll be dragging me away to be cleansed any minute now," Seb laughed, but there was an edge to his voice that made Tris shiver, and he couldn't help but wonder whether he really meant it. Would they do that?

Of course they would. Tris had seen the Aldines hire mindrenderers and send them in for less than petty conversation among their advena. Once, they'd pulled a woman from her bed in the middle of the night for singing the day before, scared that it'd been a song from whatever place she'd come from, fearful that she'd become some mindless barbarian overnight and slaughter them all in their beds.

Tris shifted uneasily and rubbed his hands together. They were rough from working the sickle all day, sweating under the abrasive sun. His skin had darkened since he'd first arrived, and a great number of sun-kissed speckles had collected over his shoulders and face. When he looked at them, he thought of the stars – a constellation of his own, spread across the map of his skin.

"Yes, well," he said, clearing his throat. "She said that I looked good, so whatever I'm doing must be working."

Seb laughed. "Walk me through this; when could she have possibly told you that?"