[ONESHOT] hiraeth

hiraeth

There were at least five hundred people in the room. They all chatted, danced on the quite slippery dance floor, ate, drank, and mingled at an alarming volume. It was a fucking cacophony of noise. The music either pulsed through the floor or was insanely high-pitched. Dresses shimmered and flowed elegantly in the light while bland tuxedos tried to keep their crisp lines.

Flowers and plants decorated all they could, trying to distract the people from the plain white walls and marble floor. The arched glass doors to the balcony were open, letting in a nice breeze.

Some called it paradise. Most honored social event of the year. A ticket to greatness-

"Ezra!"

They took in a sharp breath and looked over at Xisuma. Under the purple-tinted glasses were rather scared eyes of the same shade.

"Yes?" Ezra managed to ask, lightly flapping their cardinal wings once.

Xisuma sighed and smoothed the black tux with no wrinkles, "You were just staring. Everything good?"

"Well, besides being a mutated clone of you, synthetically a hybrid, raised in shitty conditions, and forced to be at this thing every year like none of that happened...yes. It's quite loud here. If you can see, Evelyn has already fainted." Ezra pointed over to the small owl-hybrid being carried away by a friend. "What about you?"

"I can't hear all this...high-pitched stuff so I'm good. But you know that you still do have to go in, right?"

"Yes, yes." Ezra sighed and straightened up, setting their shoulders back slightly. They adjusted the waist on their flowing red dress so it was aligned properly and tucked in their wings slightly. Making a quick check that no strand of white hair or cardinal feather was out of place in their elaborate hairdo, they put on a wide smile. "Smile and wave, brother!"

Xisuma fixed his yellow bowtie (there hadn't been any problems with it) and put an identical smile on, "Smile and wave!"

They walked across the hall separating them from the ballroom, entering the fray. Instantly, Ezra's mask of perfection flickered as the noises got much louder. They pat Xisuma on the shoulder before walking off, making sure to grab a champagne glass on the way. They'd need many more to get through the night.

As they talked with rich folk and supposed investors of Watcher Facility, people would brush back the light curtain of hair Ezra still had down and touch the burnt-in words on their neck. Ezra Void, AMAB, cardinal, #826B. Name, sex, hybrid genes, subject number. Then they'd compliment them or simply run a hand along their wings. Like any reasonable person, they hated it. But rules dictated that they had practically no bodily autonomy that night.

Subjects whispered to each other about who to avoid and what to say to some. Notes would've been better but the only thing most knew how to write were their names. Not the letters of them, just what the symbols look like and in what order. Ezra rescued many fellow bird-hybrids from the touches and noise as they did the same.

To mark the halfway point of the night, there was a performance. A different order was chosen each time and this year was order Passeriformes. Ezra and their fellow songbirds stood on a large stage with various wind and string instruments. One of them (Grian Charleston, AMAB, painted bunting, #921) stood in the front with a microphone, to sing a melody. Ezra was happy to be standing off to the side with their ocarina. With a low count from Grian, they started the heavily rehearsed piece. Some sort of love song, so they're told. It's five minutes long. The crowd is dead silent the whole time. But when the melody is finished and they all take a bow, they're louder than ever before. Ezra sees other subjects grab each other's hands for safety and struggle to keep the perfect smile on. As soon as they were allowed to leave, Ezra walked off the stage and went outside.