# The First Song "Look at that one, there." Mother says, pointing towards a beggar slumped against the alleyway. Upon approaching, Zamir wrinkles their nose and snorts. "He smells utterly repulsive," they state dispassionately. "This whole place is vile." How long will they have to scrub their scales after this? "Most have a similar reaction during their first time in the city. You will get over it." Mother responds. The illusion of the human woman she wears points again. "Now focus. Look at the man. What do you see?" Zamir reluctantly slithers closer and stares at the sleeping beggar, trying to come up with some sort of answer. He looks human, filthy, and wears tattered clothing. The texture of his face mirrors that of older purebloods. "He is... old?" Mother strikes Zamir and hisses. "Your lack of ambition is unbefitting of leadership. How can he benefit you? He is destitute, defeated, worthless. You could get him to do anything with the promise of sustenance. Nobody would notice his absence, he'd have purpose as a broodguard." "I see." Zamir concedes. Mother is always disappointed by their lack of initiative. Why can't they say the right things? How could they ever be Mothers successor if they remain so indolent? How does a Yuan-Ti manifest ambition? "You will learn," she says flatly. "Come." "Yes, Mother." They state, then obey. The moment they're gone, the man carefully sits up and opens his eyes. "...Fuckin' wackos." --- The two disguised Yuan-Ti Abominations slither deeper into the city, appearing no different from your average human. They weave around overcrowded bazaars, rancid pubs, temples to undeserving gods, and humanoid stench. Unfortunately, Mother eventually leads Zamir to a public square packed with rowdy onlookers. A man donning a ridiculous outfit stands in the center, elevated by a large crate. He's holding some sort of wooden... something? It has wires and a hole. Zamir flinches hard as the crowd suddenly screams at the man. What did he do? "Thank you, thank you!" The man cheers with outstretched arms. "I didn't expect such a lovely crowd! I might actually afford a room tonight!" So the screaming is praise? The crowds hollering mercifully settles as the man grasps his wooden contraption. "My next song is named after my dearly departed wife, Jeanny. I'll never stop loving you, my sweet." The man takes a breath. Then his fingers start to flutter. He plucks the wires along his tool, creating warm tones which somehow perfectly fit together. The audience is utterly enraptured. The man begins speaking, but his pitch is modulated in such a way that it compliments the resonance of the wires. He speaks about his wife, and how much he loved her. He speaks about the pain of losing her. He speaks about his journey through the depths of misery and alcoholism. He ponders whether love is worth the price of loss, but ultimately concludes that love is what he lives for. Finally, he speaks about how he'll keep on living because she wanted him to be happy. "This man truly loved and grieved for his wife," Mother observes, "and that is an exploitable weakness. What a fool to confess it to an entire crowd." She looks to her child, and her eyes bulge in shock; Zamir was crying. Zamir had never heard something so beautiful. A strange occurrence, as beauty wasn't something they ever thought about. It unearthed something deep inside that they didn't even know was there. It flooded their very being, filling their emptiness. For the briefest moment they felt whole. But it was too much! They burst from the pressure. Their face felt hot, breathing quickened, eyes watering. What sorcery is this? This tale is so upsetting! How could the man live without Jeanny? How!? Mother slaps them hard, then slaps them again. They recoil and whimper. "What is wrong with you?" She coldly demands. "No child of mine is this weak. We are leaving. Now." She drags them away with no room for debate. Zamir mutely complies as they try to manage the turmoil within. Neither of them speak until they return to the hidden tunnels and dispel their disguises. By then, the foreign sensations had faded away. "I... I don't understand what overcame me." Zamir admits. Mother glares at Zamir for a long moment. "You are not ready for the surface. There is weakness within you that will be purged. Do *not* flaunt it again. Do *not* discuss this with anyone else. We will fix you." "But I don't-" *Smack!* "Do not humiliate me." She spits. Zamir quietly nods, as inquiry would only lead to further provocation. Mother cooly slithers away, knowing Zamir will follow. Which they do. --- Zamir couldn't stop thinking about what happened. There was an emptiness within them they hadn't even known was there. A burden they didn't know they've always carried until that brief moment of actualization. Yes, it had overwhelmed them, but was that worse than nothing at all? Zamir wanted more. Something deep inside wanted to claw its way out, but didn't yet have the strength. It needed a conduit, and those sounds were the key. They wanted to hear them again. They *needed* to. *Is this what ambition feels like?* It wasn't difficult to sneak out. Nobody really expected disobedient behavior from Zamir, and Mother hadn't told anyone anything. Unfortunately, Zamir didn't know Mother's illusion spell, so they stayed hidden in the city sewers. The wretched, rancid sewers full of filth. But they plowed through, more determined than they've ever been. For hours they trudged through shit hoping to overhear those beautiful sounds again. Eventually, Zamir heard them. It sounded like a woman this time, and without an audience's screams. She was speaking about her desire to partake in various activities with someone next to a river. It was rather poetic in ways Zamir didn't quite grasp. She frequently interrupted her words to give thanks to unseen passersby, or curse when she played a blatantly discordant note. The man Zamir heard first was certainly superior. The smell of shit was also quite overbearing. But it was enough. The imperfections gave her voice it's own beauty. A vulnerability overpowered by courage; she didn't let it stop her. Maybe Zamir wanted that? Is it okay to not be enough? The foreign sensations were creeping back in. They unconsciously sway to the patterns in the sound, and eventually the tears start to flow. Zamir sobs, then wails. It came in waves, and they had no control over it. It felt horrible, yet it felt so good. But then the music stopped. "Hey, do you hear crying down there?" "...Hells! Hey kid, you alright!?" "Help me with the grate!" Zamir slithers away as fast as they can. By the time they slow, the inexplicable feelings yet again elude them. --- It's called music, apparently. Humanoids do it to channel their feelings. Some even use it for spellcasting! It makes sense; it feels so powerful. Could Zamir wield this power too? It's been weeks, and they haven't been caught yet. But they've been getting glares, something must be off. Zamir does feels different. A tiny piece of each performance has become a part of them. Brief sparks of emotion sprinkle Zamir's life even without music now; nowhere near the intensity felt during song, but it's something. Zamir knows what they're doing is wrong—at least, according to Mother. Yuan-Ti are above feelings. They make you gullible, frivolous, *weak*. But is ambition not a feeling? Isn't that what Mother wants? The more they contemplate it, the more it doesn't make sense! Zamir was lost in thought as they snuck away again. They'd overheard some humanoids gossiping about a grand concert today. Hopefully heading out earlier will secure a better view. But as Zamir exits the tunnels, Mother's voice cuts through their musings. "What do you think you're doing? Did you really think I wouldn't notice your skulking about?" She spits. Zamir spins around, eyes wide. What do they do? What can they say? After a tense moment, Zamir coldly responds. "I'm going to the city." Mother narrows her eyes. "Do not cower behind ambiguity. Spit it out." "I'm going to a concert. I wish to hear more music." Zamir answers. Mother slowly nods, she already knew. "You seek to indulge in emotion. In weakness. *Fool!*" She suddenly darts forward and readies her claws to slash at Zamir. But Zamir catches her hand, staring defiantly. "Mother." Zamir states. "I have found my ambition." Mother's brow furrows. She whips back her hand and glares Zamir down for a long time. There's an undeniable fire to their gaze that she's never seen before. She's waited so long for this. But this isn't right. "This is not ambition. This is debauchery. *Disgusting.* Do not embarrass yourself. Point your ambition elsewhere." She demands, but Zamir does not budge. "No. There is nowhere else to point it. I'm going." They say, and turn to leave. "You bring shame to yourself, to me, to your people. If you do this, I will not let you return. You will be banished." *That* shakes Zamir. Banished? Mother would really do that? Zamir freezes as doubt momentarily floods them. Can they even survive without her? Is Mother right? She usually is. Wouldn't it be safer to just go home and forget all this? Mother sees the resolve drain from Zamir's posture. Good. For once, shes happy to see Zamir's subservience creep back in. Everything would go back to normal. But those hopes are quickly dashed. There was no going back. Zamir couldn't just ignore the emptiness now that they knew it was there. Was a life of constant denial even worth living? This is the *one thing* Zamir has ever felt passionate about—felt *anything* about really, were they going to squander it? "Okay then." Zamir says, unable to keep their voice from shaking. Mother recoils in horror. She didn't think this confrontation could be the last time she'd see her child. "Listen to reason. You won't survive out there, they hate us. You are powerless without me. We can fix you. Everything will be okay." Something clicks in Zamir's brain as they watch Mother's final plea. They hiss in disgust. "I will wield this power instead of living in denial. Goodbye, Mother." Zamir hums a magic tune, and their body dons a human disguise. They walk away without looking back. Mother coldly stares as her child leaves for good. She slaps herself *hard*, then descends back into the tunnels.