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Xenophobia

The beginning was always romantic, in a Romeo and Juliet scenario. There was a look across a room that smoldered between two individuals and wiped all thoughts but each other from their minds, or an act of kindness on the streets from a stranger, or a case of mistaken identity in an unexpected situation. In general, when two parties from opposing sides of a feud or a war fell in love, it was a passionate occurrence that preceded the discovery of one anthers' identities.

This was hardly the case for Conis and Wiper. They met the night that the feud between their people ended, and they knew at a glance that they were not the same people. But it was a night of celebration, a feud had just ended, and an alliance had just begun. What better a situation to fall in love?

Once the beginnings of romance struck them, however—incited by a mere teasing comment from Brom—as in most Romeo and Juliet scenarios, the flame of love was quick to ignite and spread. Within a week, Wiper had kissed Conis; within a month, they were engaged.

After falling in love is generally where the Romeo and Juliet types encounter obstacles from their enviroments.

In this respect, too, Wiper and Conis deviated from the norm—when they announced their intended union, all of Skypeia rejoiced, for their marriage would be the first embodiment of this newly forged friendship.

Their wedding was a glorious affair in the ruins of Upper Yard, accompanied by a bonfire, the likes of which had not been seen since the departure of the Straw Hats. The two communities had agreed upon an innovative ceremony which incorporated elements of traditional weddings from both cultures. They dressed in Skypeian clothing but were married seated at a fire in the Shandian manner; they recited the traditional vows from both cultures; a reception was held afterwards as was the norm for Skypeians, and both Shandian and Skypeian food was served.

The newly wedded couple, on this day, had eyes for no one but each other, and none present could imagine how it could possibly go wrong.

A week after the wedding, Conis was seen storming out of her hut, across the Vars and all the way back to Angel Island to her father's house. Some cocked their eyebrows curiously, and some chuckled. Conis herself was too ashamed to tell her father why she and her husband had fought, and went home within the hour.

A month later, Wiper was the one to storm out and retreat to the home of his village's chief. The chief attempted to question him, but Wiper only glared and sat in the corner. Conis arrived at the entrance soon after and looked at her husband beseechingly—and Wiper followed her home without a word.

But by the third month of the couple's marriage, the curiosity and the chuckles were gone. Either Conis or Wiper was storming out of that hut almost weekly, and neither ever offered a decent explanation for their behavior.

It was in the sixth month that Conis finally ran out of the hut in tears, straight to her father's home, where everything spilled from her lips. "I don't understand him at all, father!" the girl sobbed. "He would rather go into the bushes than use the bathroom, and he brushes his teeth with a twig rather than a tooth brush, and he smokes so much that I'd swear he's going to die before he's thirty—but I could learn to deal with all that! But then I try to talk about things, and he says, 'why? This is the way I live," like I'm the one who has to do all the adjusting. I always go back to him, father! Me! When he goes off, he doesn't return until I come and find him! Not once has he ever come for me, even that time when I stayed away for three days! Yet when he leaves, I can do nothing for a week and he still won't come home!"

Pagaya reached out, concerned, to try and comfort his daughter, but she shook off his hand—there was more.

"Father, we fight about anything and everything. I can't even make dinner normally—first we argue about what to cook. Then we argue about how to cook what we've decided to cook. And then, when the food is finished, we argue about how to eat it. Because I've tried, father, I've tried eating everything with my fingers the way he does, but he's barely tried using silverware once. And I'd like to feel like I'm having a civilized dinner a few times a month, because sometimes I feel like I may as well have married a gorilla! We can't even communicate—I say one thing, and he interprets it another way. Sometimes I don't know what he means by the things he says either. Sometimes I don't know how to react—like every so often, when he makes a generalization about how terrible Skypeians are, I try so hard to smile and brush it off, but you can't imagine how it hurts! To be insulted for being what I am, and by my own husband! And I'm supposed to love him for all my life, and I wish I weren't saying this!"

Conis collapsed to her knees in sobs. Pagaya stroked her back gently, and said, calmly, "You were raised differently, Conis-san. You must realize this. We always knew that there would be adjustments to make. Have you ever spoken to Wiper-san about these things that you just told me?"

Conis shook her head and buried her face in her hands. "Of course not. Weren't you listening? He never comes for me, father. Not once. The moment I say something like this, he would throw me away for a more suitable woman. A Shandian woman. Father, I have to prove that I can do this—I have to."

Pagaya shook his head, though Conis could not see that. "Conis-san, marriage is not about proving yourself, or appeasing your partner because you're terrified of being left behind. Marriage is a step to take when you've overcome all those fears and insecurities, and know that you belong together—and that your partner feels the same."

Conis looked up at her father, and Pagaya's heart broke. "Then, father, perhaps Wiper-san and I weren't meant to wed."

Pagaya tried to make her see that this wasn't the case, but Conis seemed to have made up her mind.

When Conis returned home that evening, Wiper was seated on the floor munching on a whole boiled potato. Normally, Conis would berate him for not even attempting to make himself a well-rounded meal, and set about making him something else to eat.

Today, she simply sat down facing him, knowing that she would lose her nerve to do this if she did not.

"Wiper-san," said Conis.

"Conis," Wiper replied around a large mouthful of potato. Conis shuddered inwardly.

"This isn't working, and we both know it."

Conis' words made Wiper freeze in place. His jaw stopped chewing, his eyes shot to Conis and widened, and his entire body tensed, as if he had just been threatened and was preparing to defend himself from an ambush.

"We can't get along about the remotest things—we argue about where and how and what to eat and sleep and dress everyday. We don't have remotely similar ideas of manners, and our tastes are entirely different. We have nothing in common, so we can't talk unless we're arguing. One of us leaves at least once a week…and I'm the only one who's ever tried to fix that. We've been married for half a year, and not even that first week was remotely what a marriage should be."

There was a silence.

"Are you suggesting a divorce?" asked Wiper, and something blazed in his eyes.

"Yes," said Conis, and a second later her cheek was throbbing. When she registered that Wiper had actually hit her, her eyes turned to steel and she stood and turned to leave.

Wiper waited all week. Conis did not return, and in her place he received the divorce papers, already signed by Conis.

Wiper signed them and had them delivered.

That was the last anyone—Shandian or Skypeian—saw of the great Shandian warrior.