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Post by Zsasilda the Solitary on Mar 27, 2014 10:34:18 GMT
- - Masquerade, a mask of steel; winding life onto the reel - -
My name is Uri.
Just that?
Yes, mistress.
Weird.
Perhaps.
Despite all of her preparation, Zsasilda the Solitary had still been thrown by this sudden presence inside her own. They'd warned her, of course, before they put her out. Local swelling, some numbness, etc etc. And then a growing feeling of discomfort and discombobulation as the virus multiplied and spread throughout her body. The latter had proved impossible to prepare for. Here was someone, or something, who suddenly knew everything about her. It could tell if she was sad, even when she tried to hide it from those around her. It would know every violent thought or impulse which crossed her mind. Everything.
Now they were talking to each other, but it felt strange and she dared not close her eyes. The disconcerting feeling that somebody was in the room with her got worse whenever she did, and she kept wanting to glance around and find some visual on which to focus. Only, this voice was coming from inside her brain. There would never be a visual, and never again would she know the pleasure of being perfectly alone. The realisation crashed over her in a sudden great wave of sorrow.
Mistress?
Go away.
Of course.
I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that...
Zsasilda supposed that it was getting used to things too. She could still feel it there at times, even though the voice had gone silent. She wondered what it was like, being the voice. Being the OAI, she meant. Her OAI.
She took a few deep breaths, focussing on the visible world around her as she did. It was night-time, hence most of the other Promethaen were already long gone from this corridor. There were no windows, but not that there was much to see anyway. Just stars, maybe a planet. Same as always.
Who had named it? Did it have a gender? A sense of self? Curiousity welled up and, whilst the minor knew that it could read her thoughts, she felt it appropriate to address it directly. It felt more natural. She would rather not be constantly reminded of how fully a part of her this thing was.
Uri, are you there? She asked, feeling admittedly somewhat foolish.
Yes, mistress.
How...areyouhere-whereareyou-how are you?
I am...well, thank you, mistress.
I mean, they've shown me the diagrams, but what does it look like to you?
I have the use of your eyes, mistress.
She shut them without thinking, then mentally chided herself and turned her gaze upward towards the patterned ceiling.
And it is all new to you?
All of it, mistress.
Do you have a favourite colour?
I haven't thought about it.
Mine is blue. Can you see inside my head, though? That's what I was really meaning before.
It doesn't exactly work like that. Didn't they explain it to you before they introduced us, mistress?
What an understatement. But yes, they did teach me all about it. Not so much about your perspective, though. Just about how it would affect me. There were lots of diagrams, and we had scientists come and speak to us as well. I wasn't sure how I felt about having an OAI, but some of my comrades-toldmeencouragedmeharassedme-convinced me it would be useful. In any case, I knew I wouldn't advance very far through the ranks without one. Apparently some of the older versions didn't always work as intended. But now, they are very safe and incidents are extremely rare.
I can attest to this, mistress. You realise, however, that I am not exactly the most modern strain? I was chosen for you because we share similarly stable natures.
That's another thing: how do you even have a personality?
I am not sure I am the right being to ask about that. They don't tell me these things, you know. But I am almost certain that there will be some scientist who could enlighten you somewhat in that regard
Zsasilda sighed, nodding to a major she barely knew as he retired to his quarters for the night. All things considered, things were not as bad as they might have been. One of her comrades had nearly fainted after the operation. At least Zsasilda had managed to keep her dignity long enough to find a quiet place, where she'd proceeded to silently melt down for quite some time. Not her proudest moment, but at least only her and Uri had been there to witness it.
It's just us now then, Uri. She said.
I will make life much easier for you, you will see. You don't have to be nervous, mistress.
She smiled, touching a paw to the side of her head, imagining that her new companion sat before her as a shimmering golden Promethaen. Perhaps it could sense this image, she wasn't fully sure. At least it would know that she was thinking about it. Perhaps this could be her visual for it, warm and reassuring. Sure beat choosing a pulsar Promethaen, anyway.
I think we can be friends, Uri.
That would be nice, mistress.
Now come on, we should probably get some rest. I'll show you my room.
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Inspiration: I DUNNO RUBBISH. Might not even be canon, could possibly edit or scrap or whatevz.
Notes: I just like Zsasi and Uri talking kay.
Table made by Opal.
- - And playing back now, the scenes that you looked away from - - |
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Post by Zsasilda the Solitary on Jun 19, 2014 11:40:27 GMT
- - Masquerade, a mask of steel; winding life onto the reel - - Zsasilda rested her head against her forelegs and closed her tired eyes.
This was interesting and important information, that she knew. The history of her race, the explanation of how they'd come to be where they were today- and, sad to say, a topic on which her knowledge was less than satisfactory. She was more knowledgeable by far about science and magic, but she supposed that was just the natural result of her schooling. It wasn't that history bored her: in fact, provided you ignored some of the longer political rambles, it could be quite fascinating. Even so, today she just couldn't concentrate.
A week until her hatchday. A week until she came of age, and received her Calling. She would be an adult then, a fully recognised member of society. People would finally acknowledge her brilliance...though hopefully from a distance, with clouds and offerings of sweet food. She would like that. She would like that very much.
Zsasilda had spent a lot of time thinking about what she would like her Calling to be. She quite liked "the Erudite", but it wouldn't do to take the name of such an influential family. "The Inquisitive" would do nicely, but it was a little...meh. She wanted something powerful sounding, something dynamic, something which would command attention. Hopefully, whoever ended up choosing her name would be more creative than she.
The young Promethaen returned to her reading, but it was hard to stay focussed. Every time a new name cropped up, she couldn't help but wonder how it would suit her. After checking that she was thoroughly alone (and why wouldn't she be? Most sane Promethaen were long retired by this time of night); Zsasilda even tried saying a few aloud to see how they would suit.
"Zsasilda the Dignified. Zsasilda the Informer. Zsasilda the Astute."
Eh, that last one had belonged to a Promethaen who then went on to kill his children and betray his race; so perhaps not. In any case, none of those names particularly appealed to her. Why couldn't she have been born an Erudite? A name like that, with all its history, commanded attention. Although, did she really want attention? In writing, of course she did; but in the form of lots of Promethaen actually coming up to and commending her? Perhaps not. At least, not too many at once. But it would be nice to have people look at her with respect, she supposed, more often than they actually did.
What did she want, really? If her Calling was to reflect her path...to have a lot of influence, that much she was sure of, though it was not really the most admirable goal. To be knowledgeable, perhaps a chronicler of some kind. Zsasilda the Chronicler? That had a nice ring to it, she supposed...though it probably wouldn't be a good idea to set her path so deeply in stone.
At last, Zsasilda accepted that she was probably not going to get any more reading done that night. It would be time to wake up in five hours and, even though she had slept well the previous night, the Promethaen estimated that she should at least try to get a good four hours of rest, if she wanted to function at an acceptable level the following day.
Rising, she left the library through a side door (thankfully, she'd managed to get her own access code after pestering the librarian enough); and struck out towards home. Only a week until she came of age. Only a week left of nobody caring what she thought, or if she said anything stupid. Even so, she looked forward to it- to receiving her Calling.. It was one of the great events in any Promethaen's life, and she knew she would remember that day forever. With any luck, her forever would be a long time.
Tags:
Inspiration:
Notes: AWFUL I EDIT LATER, PROMISE.
Table made by Opal.
- - And playing back now, the scenes that you looked away from - - |
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Post by Zsasilda the Solitary on Jun 30, 2014 8:31:53 GMT
- - Masquerade, a mask of steel; winding life onto the reel - - Dear Journal,
My thoughts and his are difficult to separate as of late. I will write the thoughts as they come, an outlet, an inability to still your thoughts and allow me to speak, because I've always been alone, because your head is where you feel safe, because I am the Solitary.
I try to picture him as a golden Promethaen, but he tells me things calm be calm this is normal you don't have to be but I am overwhelmed, it tingles and I feel him moving about my body but that will pass but the thoughts are there and he tells me things that nobody could speak aloud.
I have two weeks to adjust or they will consider removing him no but I do not want that I do not want to die but I can't cope with having this other being inside my mind, perhaps I don't like it either, perhaps I no but I was here first but I was but I had no choice.
Sometimes I can think and talk and then sometimes I can't hear anything over him I am alive so am I we are one but there are two of us I can administer a sedative, I can calm you down yes do it and go away.
Go away go away go away go away go away go away go away go away go away go away go away go away go away go away go away go away away go away away awayaway
I think you gave me toomuch. I am tired yes this good you you sleep you will feel better. I want you to go. I cannot go.
I am tired. So am I. I can't write anymore. Goodnight.
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Inspiration: Dealing with having somebody right there in your head.
Notes:
Table made by Opal.
- - And playing back now, the scenes that you looked away from - - |
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