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Post by August Krasnow on Jan 18, 2010 5:37:07 GMT
Journal of August Krasnow: Day 17. In Esthar for Repairs.
”After find Lindblum quite caught up in the pandemonium with the appearance of that fascinating beast, it was decided that perhaps another port-of-call was in order. We took off after the beast upon its retreat, following it back from whence it came, but upon losing sight of it, we diverted to the next port. Esthar, being the advanced city that is is, seemed like the perfect alternate option, we can even make upgrades to the Hijrah’s engines while there. We’ve just arrived in Airdock, after having to convince air control we were friendly, and now I’m hoping I can spend a little time traveling the city. I hear the infrastructure here is second to none and its mechanical workings will be a great inspiration for my later works.”
August disembarks from the Hijrah, onto the Airdock, flanked by his trusted man servant Kane. Kane carried with him a black case, inside which housed the Eastern Star. Even in a city as safe as Esthar, August never felt too secure being far away from his trusty rifle and carrying it out in the open seemed impractical here, especially since he was unsure of local weapon ordnances. Normally, more advanced city-states relied on their own security and police forces for civil protection and frowned or outright banned the carrying of weapons in public. This, August felt, would be the proper medium. An innocent leather bound case, carried by a servant, hopefully would not draw any undue attention.
August decided to stroll through the streets, for now, take in the unique architecture and fascinating infrastructure. The glass like streets and skyways intrigued him most, curious as to their construction process that would allow them to maintain enough strength to hold weight and yet thin enough to not clutter the rest of the city like choking veins. The stroll leads him to a shopping district where peculiar kiosks catch August’s attention; he calls over Kane to see the device.
”Look here, Kane. I simply pay via credit for an item I see listed on the digital catalog and it is immediately sent to me, without ever having to actually go inside a store.” August presses an icon on the touch screen. “See, push of the finger! Fantastic.” He then curiously looks closer at the screen, then cringes in practical horror. “Oh, blah!” Spits out like the words were rancid food. “I think I just purchased a talking mounted fish…”
------------------------------------- Word Count: 429
They say, "Evil prevails when good men fail to act." What they ought to say is, "Evil prevails."
This was the third machine today! None of them seemed to be working - or at least, when he came around, they stopped! This time, he was certain that it would work - he was bound and determined to make sure of it! That was why, he was standing in line to the machine, as patiently as he could be, considering he was quite literally bouncing, tail going wild as he did so. He was trying to peek over their shoulders, to make sure the machine was working, and, considering the dialogue that went between the two of them, it was!
But alas, he heard the words he didn't want to hear.
"YOU BOUGHT FISHUMS?! NO!!" He wailed, practically collapsing on the ground, much to the horrified looks of those around them. Public place or not, he was certainly unashamed of how the situation might look. His signature weapon, the Spearshot, was now on the ground next to him, as he pouted, furiously.
"It's not fair! I wanted to get one for Headmaster Cid and all the machines were broken or stupid and that was supposed to be the last one." He was sorely tempted to assault them both with his most powerful pouty-face, as that typically got him what he wanted at the Garden - but usually only when the victim was female. He had some form of 'allure' or something that typically awarded him with anything from sweets to clothes to help with his homework and the like.
Chicks dig the tail!
It was then, of course, that he noted that the guy who had managed to swipe the very last 'Fishums the Singing and Dancing Fish' looked totally... inhuman! Not that he minded, as, of course, he wasn't quite as human as he had once thought, either. But still, he didn't look that crazy.
The last time he saw someone or something like this was at the dance - the boy-or-girl-thing that looked kind of like a mouse man and almost like this boy-or-girl-thing. He squinted his eyes close together, and peered up at him, tilting his head. "You're like a bunnyrabbit. And a mouse. But mostly a bunny." He said, his voice dropping down to barely above a whisper, as though he was certainly relaying this information to the man for the first time in his life.
No doubt, he would be confused, at first, now that his species had been revealed to him.
Asher popped up, seemingly forgetting about the 'Fishums', all smiles and cheer again. It was fully understood that he might be a little crazy, but now he was excited once more - tail literally wagging as he picked up his Spearshot in it's dexterous grasp. He sniffled at him, stepping ever so closer. "Hiya! I'm Asher. From Balamb! This is my first time in Esthar - have you ever been here before?" He asked, slipping in to conversation as though it weren't the most awkward possible moment ever.
And also as if there weren't a bigger man standing there.
He literally wiggled on his feet, so that his body seemed to loosen up. "Can you hop really high?" He asked, looking as though he were desperately hopeful for a positive answer.
Post by August Krasnow on Jan 18, 2010 8:59:15 GMT
The so called ‘Fishhums’ materializes through a dispensing slot beside the kiosk, to which August watches with profound curiosity as the object is summoned for him, the swirl of orange sparkly light and then, like out of thin air, it appears. Be it magic or technology, it still was a fascinating thing to behold for someone from a less advanced region such as August. This is just one of the many sights, August thinks to himself, that he will behold this day. Just then though, his analyzation of the device is suddenly interrupted by what sounds like the tantrum of some sort of child behind him. His ears perk up and then curiously takes a glance over his shoulder to see a monkey boy with weird hair and strange spear weapon. August takes the singing fish, handing it to Kane.
“Here, hold this.” He says, and then steps aside to let someone else use the kiosk, all the while watching the pouting boy. He normally wouldn’t give the child more then a passing glance, but in his tantrum, he said a key name that sparked his interest, ‘Headmaster Cid’. So, he continued to watch, hands folded behind his back, face expressionless towards the boys cries. A tantrum wasn’t going to get the kid his toy, least not without paying somehow, so for now, August just watched to see what it was that made this boy tick. He also noticed something else that was peculiar, the boy’s monkey tail. He knew immediately what that indicated, only one type of humanoid had monkey tails – they were now well documented.
When the boy popped back up and approached, Kane immediately stepped in. The burley, black suited and bald man puts himself immediately between Asher and August, until August interjects, pushing Kane aside. “It’s alright, Kane. He’s just a child, and a very astute one at that.” He says, shooting the genome a slight smile. “You are correct, young Asher. I am a bit of a ‘bunny-rabbit’ and ‘mouse’, but ‘rat’ would be a bit more accurate. I’m Verian and Burmecian, which is why I look so different then most people you have probably met. And you.” He nods, then graciously motions to Asher’s tail. “Are a Genome, correct? That tail somewhat gives you away.”
By this time, the scene had calmed and the rubber-neckers have gone back to their consumerist ways, leaving the three strange fellows to go about their personal business, alone. Not that there was much of crowd at this time, the shopping center was rather quiet except for the few people lining up to use the kiosk. August figured it wouldn’t hurt to stop for a little while and learn more about this Genome from the Garden. “And no, this is my first time here as well. I put my airship in for repairs and upgrades here; I am now just exploring the city. I have an invested interest in learning a little about Esthar’s technology, even from just an observational stand-point.” He then chuckles slightly. “And yes, Asher, I can jump quite high, if that is what you are asking. All Burmecian’s can.” He then laughs lightly, “Oh how rude of me, my name is Mr. Krasnow, August Krasnow.”
August then motions that the boy, Asher, should accompany him as he walks. “Please, let us talk more. If I heard you right, you are from Balamb Garden, correct? That is quite the prestigious school; Headmaster Cid’s reputation precedes him everywhere, even where I am from. So, Asher, does that mean you are already a SeeD, or still a student?” As August asks his few questions, he strolls casually through the shopping district till they are outside on one of the many skywalks, a blue translucent pedestrian bridge that snakes its way through a part of the city like wires in a machine. He takes a glance at Kane, who walks most reserved and cautious, his eyes never leaving the boy. He still holds onto the Fishums, clasped firmly in his grasp. “Kane, just throw that thing in with the Star. Don’t keep holding it like a fool.” August orders, which Kane simply obeys without objection to the insult. He raises the black case he’s been carrying, flipping it open then fumbles for a few moments, during which the Eastern Star rifle is exposed to anyone passing by with a curious interest. Once the novelty item is inside, he shuts it quickly and returns to carrying it normally.
“So, what brings you here, young Asher? Are you on an assignment or is this just a personal visit?” August asks of the boy, showing interest. “If you cannot tell me, I completely understand. We all have our little secrets.” He says the last sentence through a subtle little grin, his tail swaying lightly behind him, as if tickled with satisfaction.
------------------------------------- Word Count: 829 ((Heh, see I can do it too!))
When Kane made his appearance, he tilted his head, not even looking remotely nervous. A child his stature and size more or less should have at least flinched, or quavered, or took a step back - instead, he stood as defiantly as an island in the sea. Even when he completely interjected, Asher did nothing more than smile up to him, though the muscles in his legs tensed just enough for him to get ready to move should that man decide to do more than block his path.
Though, when the man was pushed aside, that grin only became wider. He loved the compliment about being astute, because... well, it wasn't one he got very often. Something about being bubble-headed and too cheerful made him something other than astute, in most people's books. He was a strong fighter, an excellent markman, and quick-witted... sometimes. It just wasn't his strong suite, being a social individual. He was too kind, too outgoing, too naive, and far too cheerful to be a spy or anything like that.
He was a front-line SeeD, that was for certain. His bravery had just spoken for him.
Still, he didn't know bunny-rats could exist! And so, having confirmed his suspicion, he wiggled merrily, tail slipping down so that it could slide around his weapon, drawing it up to hang behind him. It wasn't a violent gesture - rather, it was just the way he held it. That much was obvious. "I like your ears." He nodded, sharply, and then again when he asked if he was a genome.
"Yup! I know my tail isn't sneaky anymore - though, I didn't know for a long while - no one in the Garden had ever really messed with Genomes before, and I guess my brain's just wonky 'cause I don't really remember anythin' for I went to Spira a couple years back."
He hopped, all on his own, as if determined to prove just how high he could jump - which was pretty impressive, considering. Granted, it probably wasn't as high as a Burmecian or a Viera could go - still, he just liked hopping. Though, he paused in his bouncing, when he began to explain why he was here. August had an Airship! That was such an amazing thing - he smiled at that. "I love the Airships! Whoever invented them had to be a genius." For his first, non-over-the-top statement in a long while, he did pretty well!
At his insistence, Asher started following him, taking a couple of bonus steps every so often to catch up. He was easily distracted, though he never stopped listening. There were lights here, and things that shone in ways he hadn't originally thought. Like, a glow, more than a sparkle. Esthar really was kind of beautiful, in it's own right - it wasn't quite as open as Balamb, but it was still quite... amazing.
His eyes flicked to the box as it opened, and he practically drooled all over himself. It was one of the most beautiful rifles he'd ever seen in his life. Galbadia Garden was the one that focused on Marksmen and their usual style of sniperism, and so it wasn't unusual that he didn't get to see many rifles. In fact, Balamb didn't host any guns currently, other than Gunblades - or in his case, Spearshot.
"Wow. That's so..." He wriggled, his tail end practically vibrating now. "I haven't seen a rifle like that ever! My Spearshot's rifle is cool but it's only so good with shooting when it's not in rifle mode... Oh! it's got a rifle mode and everything, and I use that to get far off stuff, but most of the time I use it like a gunblade does. Are you a gunner?"
He wrapped his arms around his back toying with his tail a little, as was his usual thing to do when he wasn't thinking about it.
"I passed my Exams a little while back - I'm a full fledged SeeD! But I'm not here on business, though - I'm actually stoppin' here on my way back to Balamb 'cause my original airship got crashed in to a monster-face, and the one I'm on now is a lot smaller. I'm headin' home from Lindle...bum. Lindblum." He nodded, sharply. It was so weird, having been there with that giant monster thing. Still!
He tugged himself forward along the skybridge, occasionally pausing to kneel a bit, poking at the translucent road. It seemed to be entirely made of energy of some sort, lines that he couldn't quite understand. He wanted to know, more than anything else. Curiosity enveloped him more often than he liked to let on. Noting that the two might accidentally leave him behind, he pounced forward, trotting to catch up.
He pouted a little bit, as he kept alongside them.
"Though... it's just amazing. I was in Alexandria 'fore here, and it's like... they're totally backwards. I don't get how a place on the same world can be so different from another. Like, it was creepy and they only used regular boats and stuff." He shrugged, at that, as he kept pace.
"So... where are you from? I've never heard of where the Burmy-sands and the Veeras come from." He spun about, so that he was walking backwards next to them, with just as much ease as if he were walking forward, as well. He peeked at Kane again, doing his best to try and pretend the guy wasn't even there - after all, he was silent, and hadn't spoken up yet. He was obviously a bodyguard, and he carried himself with enough force that he could no doubt hold his own in a fight.
Nevertheless, he couldn't stop his eyes from occasionally flicking back to that case he carried, knowing full and well the contents within. He could only wonder - a guy like that didn't use a rifle. No, he seemed more the martial artist, like that weird tattoo-face guy Zell, or maybe a pikesman. Something big and heavy, or forceful. Not something swift and deadly.
If all you focused on was gunnery, you rarely became adept enough at physical skills to look like that.
Tail wagging gently, he peered at August. "He's kind of creepy." He gestured, with a slight nod in Kane's direction.
[/blockquote][/blockquote] ( Word Count: 1128 Thread Word Count: 1696 )
Post by August Krasnow on Jan 19, 2010 0:33:50 GMT
August listened to the boy speak, ears attentive to his every word as if fascinated by what Asher had to say. It seemed that August was being consumed by the boy’s world of words, hanging onto them with every fiber, he truly appeared interested. He took Asher’s compliment about his ears gleefully, with a sincere smile. “Thank you, though they are a bit silly.” He joked, then nodded as Asher spoke a little of his Genome heritage. “Well, it is a proud legacy the Genomes have, breaking from their original purpose to finally live. Quite noble.”
After Kane had opened up the case carrying the Eastern Star and seeing Asher becoming awestruck by catching a glimpse of the blunderbuss style ray-rifle, August could help but feeling a little smug. He prized his creation like how a father may feel towards his offspring, a creation from his very soul, the hallmark of a life’s work. He waited till the boy had finished his explanation of his own weapon before he spoke again. “That’s because, Young Asher, there exists no other rifle like that in the world. I created it, a product of years of sweat and toil.” August pauses for a moment to observe the road around them, it was fairly clear of traffic. He wouldn’t want the weapon spotted by the wrong hands, such a design could be quite valuable to certain people. “Kane, it is quiet here, bring out the rifle for him to get a better look at. It is only fair to show a fellow marksman.”
Kane nods, as he always does without a word, his giant frame lifting the case back up once more to rest in his hefty arms. He unlocks the case, flipping it open, upon which August approaches and reaches inside. What he brings out is a peculiar weapon, now better seen in the light. It is comprised of a finely polished and uniquely crafted dark wood stock that gives the impression of a whale’s fluke or an odd bird’s wing at the butt end and waves to up and down along the trigger assembly to the heart of the rifle. Resting upon this odd stock is an assortment of peculiar doodads, triggers, switches and levers lined with fuses, coils, tiny tanks, and an assortment of other odds and ends. Its trigger guard is long and extended down which appears to have the purpose to catching and blocking melee weapons. The barrel extends out to form a flared muzzle made of separated coils with a very peculiar device that rests in the center of it. It’s clear that the rifle is not like a normal rifle, which no indication that it takes standard cartridge rounds.
August takes the rifle in his hands, spread across his grip so that Asher can clearly see the unique properties of the gun. It seems other worldly, featuring both a fantastic advancement with the rustic charm of a begotten age. “I call it the Eastern Star; it uses a combination of Mist and some ‘secret’ components to generate wave oscillation. In layman’s terms, it’s a ray gun with variable properties allowing the user to configure the shot to meet specific needs. And it doesn’t suffer from the same shortcomings standard firearms and their solid projectiles have when dealing with armor, natural or not. The only problem is that it can overheat if not properly monitored during use – but isn’t that the problem with all types of firearms.” He replaces the Star back into its case and Kane then shuts it quickly.
“So,” August says, looking to Asher’s own weapon, the Spearshot. “That is a type of gunblade, you say? I’ve seen cane guns before and gunblades but never one that appeared seemingly both. The Garden certainly must be branching out on its gunblade designs. Good too hear; many of their earlier models were more novelty than practicality.” Continuing with their stroll, passing between high rises made of glass and light that catch August’s attention as much as they are with Asher. The city felt out of place with the rest of the world, as if it existed in place light-years ahead of the rest of Gaia, like caught in some space-time rift or that time outside the city moved at a slower rate, progression through the ages at a snails pace compared.
“So, you were in Lindblum? I take it SeeDs were called in to deal with that creature that emerged from the ocean? That is where I just arrived from, I had originally intended to put in at their airship yards yet found the city under attack. The Hijrah, my airship, ended up assisting in the resistance – though a part of me regrets that I couldn’t have studied the creature longer. It was a fascinating specimen, I’m curious to know of its true origin.” The conversation then seems to quickly change to a discussion of the variance in technology from region to region, country to country. August chuckles at the boy’s confusion in the matter. “It is because many of the nation-states prefer to keep their technology to themselves; it helps establish deterrence from attack. Take for instance of Esthar here, who in their right mind from one of the less advanced regions would dare assault the nation-state? They’d be foolish unless they possessed magic that evens the playing field, and that type of power is only in the hands of the very few or lost.”
August watched Asher in his goofy backwards walk; the boy certainly was peculiar for a SeeD. If it wasn’t for the unusual gunblade and the fact he was so sure of himself, August would hardly believe anything the boy said. “I am from Treno, it is in Alexandria. A city that exists under a perpetual state of twilight, though that is not the native land of Burmecians or Verians.” He goes onto explain in a few details about Burmecia and Clyera, then mentions that Verians are a rather scattered race with no real single home that he knew of. He really didn’t get into too much detail, opting to just give a brief explanation, this wasn’t a classroom setting and he wasn’t in the mood to talk an entire history lesson.
When Asher brought up Kane as he curiously peered at the filing cabinet like man that followed August around like a faithful dog, he couldn’t help but to laugh lightly. “Ah, yes, Kane is a bit creepy. It is his job to be.” Just then, as August spoke, Kane shot Asher a very troubling and wide, crocodile grin. Clearly he was trying to unnerve the boy, especially when he cracks the knuckles in his one free hand. August assures Asher to pay him no attention; he only bites on August’s command. “So how much longer are you staying, Asher? I imagine you must report back to the Garden soon, else you’ll be AWOL? I’ll admit I don’t know the proceedings of Balamb as well as I should, but I’d imagine.”
Kane clears his throat, trying for August’s attention. He was clearly trying to get August moving, it has been several hours since they went on their trek into the city and perhaps they should be returning soon, but for August, it wasn’t time yet. He waves Kane off. “A little more time will not hinder us,” He assures. “The ship will wait for me, remember? Enjoy, lighten up a little. We’re not in some hostile territory, you can relax. I assure you, if Asher or anybody, even Laguna himself, should try and kidnap or assassinate me or, then you can say, ‘I told you so’. But until then, relax.” He looks to Asher, slight roll in his eyes. ”Sometimes he takes his job a little too seriously, wouldn’t you agree.”
------------------------------------- Word Count: 1342 ((Not the greatest, sorry.))
It took him a fair... thirty to forty seconds even after the incredible rifle was put away to even pretend he was paying attention. Not only was it a rifle, it had buttons. EVERYWHERE. He had no idea what the hell he could accomplish with it, but he was terribly excited. Granted, he wasn't going to ask to use it - that would just be weird. No one's gun was going to be as useful in someone else's hands, and he would feel almost like he was betraying his. It was his partner, and he wasn't about to let anyone use it but him. August probably felt the same.
"I dunno if the Garden designed it or not - I've had it as far back as I can remember, even before I went to the Garden. My friend Odion said it was just mine, and that I'd had it for years. But I can't really remember that. There's a lot of jumblies in my brain, and I just get a lot of weird broken pictures when I try to think back that far." Which no doubt sounded like a fool's way of stating they had amnesia, though, even now, he furrowed his brow as he tried to come up with another way to explain it. "I can only remember back to the first time I went to Spira. Or at least I think it was the first time I went to Spira." He laughed absently, unashamedly.
Nevertheless, the train of thought faded without him, still grasping at the last remaining threads of his imagination.
He shook his head a little bit, at the question about his reasons for being in Lindblum. "Honestly, I dunno! It was actually kind of lucky I was there, I was headin' back from a mission just outside Lindblum. Then, like I said, some crazy lady crashed my airship in to that giant thing. I stabbed it right in the eye." He said, proudly. "I teleported to the top of it's head, and just..." He made a sharp jabbing motion, though it was ultimately futile, considering his weapon was still in his tail's grasp.
Flicking his tail absently, he all but bounced. He was proud of himself, he'd handled the situation very well - the giant thing, and the creatures it spawned - he'd made them in to mincemeat! Though, not delicious by any stretch of the imagination, it was still an effective way to get rid of the things.
He just leaned backwards, resuming his original backwards trek as he watched them. "I dunno much about war. SeeDs get involved 'cause we get hired, not 'cause we pick sides. I don't really like the idea of war - so I guess if one place having better stuff makes war less likely, then it's a good thing. Though, what happens if they get greedy? Then someone else calls us to help take'm down."
His thoughts drifted to the current situation with Galbadia. He knew through other channels that there was a million different uprisings there, and that there were resistance factions vying to get aid from the Garden. He personally hadn't been there to assist yet, and he kind of hoped he didn't have to. It was then that August agreed with him about Kane, who proceeded to try his intimidation routine for the second time again.
Asher almost fell backwards, he was laughing so hard. It took him a few seconds, almost a full minute, to compose himself again, fully working to brush away the tears that had accumulated in his eyes. He loved getting to laugh like that - only really funny things ever sent him on to fits of exuberance and giggles like this. As he caught his breath, neatly keeping himself from stumbling in to someone else, or even Kane or August themselves, he shook his head.
"We don't usually get in trouble unless we don't at least send a report. Then, usually, the Garden dispatches a rescue team. The rescue teams though, sometimes turn out to be capture teams. But don't worry! I sent my report. But I'm gonna be way later than my scheduled arrival date 'cause the of the whole thing at Lindblum and now this stop here. We were supposed to leave like a day and a half ago and we're still here for some stupid reason. But I guess it's better to fix whatever's wrong than to have the thing explode when we're up in the air. Still." He stuck his tongue out, as if he were massively exasperated about the whole thing.
"Headmaster Cid understands that sometimes we get caught off guard by stuff, or distracted. After every mission we usually get a day or so downtime anyways. But I think he'll be happy once I come back and give him the lindblum report, too!"
Arms slipped behind his back, as he kept pace. "Are you a pilot, or is it just your ship? Either way, it must be neat. You can go wherever you want, right?" He couldn't imagine having his own airship - he'd probably turn in to that crazy lady and crash it in to some monster.
Or the ground. Either way!
Wriggling a bit, he started hopping backwards. "It's okay! It's good to be serious about your job most of the time! I'm not gonna assassinate ya, though, not from right up close. And I know better than to get too close to a target, 'cause then you can get all emotionally attached and stuff. I wouldn't want to kill a friend, that would be pretty bad, and I'd feel like an absolutely horrible person." Nodding gently, he smiled a little.
Of course, he'd just said emotion, which, didn't traditionally go along with the Genomes - what with their usual lack of souls and all.
[/blockquote][/blockquote] ( Word Count: 1032 Thread Word Count: 2728 )
Post by August Krasnow on Jan 21, 2010 8:30:06 GMT
“You know, you’re a rather lively Genome.” August remarks, analyzing the boy with a inquisitive eye. Though it may not be completely obvious to Asher what August was doing, studying the boy, finding out everything he could about this most peculiar species, it was more then apparent that August was overly curious. “And yes, I can understand if such thoughts are a bit jumbled for you, a Genome’s past is always a complex enigma. Now, just don’t go opening up any hidden Pandora’s box trapped in the cobwebs of your mind and trigger something that would so change such a lively boy into something like the rest of us, the sordid little lot. And Spira, lovely place to vacation, that is, if you don’t mind all the ‘mumbo-jumbo’ religious nonsense from the Yevon crowd there. And that actually brings me to something I’ve been curious about.”
August’s personality changes, just slightly, hinting away from the friendly face to a more serious one – a business demeanor. “You say that you don’t know much of war, yet you are SeeD? That puzzles me, because, you see.” August begins speaking with his hands more, jousting out words with twirls of his wrists instead of keeping them locked tight on the small of his back. “Isn’t that what the Garden’s thrive on? Without war, there would be no practical need for SeeDs, regardless of which side is right or wrong – nothing is that black and white in the world anyway.” He explicates. “SeeD’s are mercenaries, hired guns, which shift the balance of warfare from the simple notion of social and political Darwinism to that of greed itself. Those who can pay, pays to win. That must make you feel something? Allegiance or not, what if you are brought in for the ‘wrong’ side to your moral compass. Quite a quandary you’d have then. Think about that, and do yourself a favor and go out of your way to understand war. It’ll make your life easier in the end.”
He turns away then and ushers for Kane and Asher to follow normally; he slowly begins heading towards the Airdocks, as indicated by the directional signs. He demeanor returns back to the friendlier side, as when he first met Asher. “I can fly, but that would take me away from my work in the laboratory. I have a captain then, so I am free to work on personal projects – much like the rifle you saw. I’m a tinkerer, if you will.” He then smiles and nods as Asher assures him that he is not an assassin. “And by that statement alone, I know you’re not an assassin.” He laughs lightly to himself. “The mark of a great assassin is getting point-blank to their target; therefore there is no room for doubt that their ‘mark’ is dispatched. Only the amateurs or novices attempt attacks at a distance because the closer you get, the more likely you are to be exposed before you can finish your work.” He then dismisses that notion, as if to forget it and change the subject. “Asher, where is your ship, if it is your time to report back I can accompany you to the gangway if you so wish?”
------------------------------------------ Word Count: 556
They say, "Evil prevails when good men fail to act." What they ought to say is, "Evil prevails."
He was a little stumped, that much was obvious by his expression. He wasn't much of a person that did deep thinking - he was practically incapable of it. Not that Asher was stupid, by any stretch of the imagination, but he was inexperienced and naive, which did not make it easy for him to bring forward frontal logic. Combined with his constant cheer and outgoing nature, it was next to impossible to have a serious conversation with him. He was lively for that reason, and a multitude of others - but that was the most obvious one to note in this situation.
Still, he started from the beginning. "Beis - my brother - says I'm weird for a Genome." He giggled at that, because he thought Beis was pretty weird for a person - after all, he was very quiet, and always seemed confused by the few things that came easy for Asher - compassion and cheer and sadness. All of the rashes of emotion that Asher felt all the time always seemed so outlandish to Beis. Still, he didn't know why. "I don't know why he says that - I think I'm pretty okay! I mean, yeah, I'm uppidee, but that's not a bad thing." He nodded, rather content with his own personality, regardless of how 'strange' it might appear to others.
He was still a few steps ahead of them, walking backwards, with that cheerful grin and wag of his tail. He made a squishing sound with his cheeks, and shrugged. "I don't know what aligion is, so I dunno why it's mumbo-jumbo. But Spira's always nice, 'cept for that big monster thing."
His brows furrowed. That big monster thing held something in his heart - a deep rooted fear that he couldn't shake or understand. He just knew he never wanted to meet it face to face.
Even though something else, deep inside him, really wanted to stab it right in the eye.
When the conversation started to shift, August began to get a bit more serious, which compelled Asher to try and pay a bit closer attention. He had a habit of letting himself get distracted, and considering how August began carrying himself, he realized it was time to at least pretend he understood whatever it was he was going to say.
He resumed his topic, involving war and politics, and all the things that Asher had a hard time grasping. He spoke of the need for SeeDs - as just weapons, or perhaps as political foci, being used even against their morality.
"We~ll... I don't know war very well 'cause I've never been involved in one yet. All of my missions so far haven't been in any wars, though I know Galbadia Garden is all caught in the middle of one. But... I dunno how you mean, though. People pay 'cause they need help, not 'cause they're greedy. And I'll help whoever needs it. Missions and getting sent out just means that the Garden got the call for help. Sure, there's money involved, but that's all part of it. I don't really pay attention to what everyone is sayin'. I mean..."
He started to think, the little cogs and wheels in his mind working.
"I... I think I do understand. Like... if someone paid the Garden to send help in a war against the other Genomes, and they sent me..." He gulped, and visibly greened a little bit at the idea. He didn't know the Genomes very well, but it would feel like he was lifting his blade to his family. What if he was called to fight Beis? He gritted his teeth, all of a sudden starting to look rather nervous with this line of conversation. The thinking was... it was scary. He'd never thought about having to question his orders before - he just followed them out because that's what he was supposed to do.
It made him bite his lip, almost too hard. It actually hurt. Before he realized it, he could taste a little blood - his silence was grating on his mind and forcing him down a much darker path than he'd originally intended. He had to shake his head - he was trying to shake the thoughts right out of his brain. They were dangerous.
He'd even come to a complete stop in his meanderings, a feat which no other person had ever been able to stop. His tail was still, and his eyes were troubled.
"I don't wanna know war." He murmured, shaking his head, hard.
"I... uh... I don't know. But I don't think my ship is leavin' for at least another day or two. I was s'posed to get a call, and that hasn't happened yet." The subject change was a small comfort, but a well accepted one - he did not like thinking about war.
But it was there, painted in a picture that he hadn't even been aware he could look at. The Garden trained them to be fighters... but the odds of them always fighting for the good thing was very low. His own views of good and bad were still muddled, certainly - he had learned that hurting people was bad, and stealing was bad, whereas helping people was good. Curing them was good.
Where did that change from good to bad? Why weren't things so black and white? At least if they were black and white, he knew where he was supposed to stand. Before today, he always thought the Garden was always right, 'cause that's who he lived with, who his family was.
Was it possible that he could be wrong? That they - his teachers, mentors, friends, and fellow SeeDs... could be mistaken?
"I don't feel so good." He murred, holding a hand to his stomach. He'd eaten already, and he hadn't had any milk...
What was this new feeling that felt like something warm, and wet, and pulsing in his stomach? He didn't like it. Not one bit.
[/blockquote][/blockquote] ( Word Count: 1054 Thread Word Count: 3782 )
Post by August Krasnow on Jan 29, 2010 8:30:46 GMT
The pain in the genome filled August with some dark, twisted delight that bubbled just under the surface of his friendly face. A sick, twisted he truly was hidden behind a mask of charm and friendship. An outward gentleman, while a sick sadist that only the bored and wealthy can breed lurked in the dark corners of this man’s tainted soul. Though he showed no outward pleasure in making the boy squirm horribly under the weight of existential collapse, he revealed in it secretly, eating it up like fine food. As the sickness rose inside Asher, the pleasure rose with it inside August. Why would he taunt the boy’s notion of the world, making him question the Garden’s mission? What did he gain in it other then self satisfaction, what delight would he take, but his mind ticked with a brooding agenda.
“Asher, are you quite alright? Something wrong with your stomach, suddenly?” He asked, his voice feigning sincere concern. “Here, come with me. I have some tea on board that should make you feel better. I insist.” He commands, it was clear he wasn’t going to take ‘no’ as an answer, be it out of concern or the simple fact that as a noble, no one says ‘no’ to him if they are not as equals. He softly places his open hand upon the boys back, ushering him to come along.
Asher is ushered, not forcefully but sternly, like an insistent friend trying to move a drunken companion along for their own safety and benefit. “I can show you my lab, if you’re interested and the many wonders and curiosities aboard my vessel.” He mentions casually as they walk towards the end of the airdock. They pass many impressive and elegant vessels and some not so elegant service vessels till they arrive in front of the Hijrah. It’s a smaller vessel, appears quick and light but sporting a lavish design that projects wealth from its glistening polished surface. It has several balconies and wind decks and combines modern design with a ‘Victorian’ elegance. Much like a sparrow painted of white and black with highlights of red and natural polished wood. “This way Asher, if you would please.”
Trapped now with Kane behind him and August before him, offering a friendly hand aboard the gangway leading up to the vessel, there is little recourse Asher can take to object and considering how hospitable August has been appearing, why would he? Up the gangway to the quarterdeck where they are greeted by one of the crew dressed in white. “My friend here is ill.” August mentions to the crewman. “Bring some hot tea to the lounge, don’t dally.” The crewman nods and immediately departs through a nearby wooden door. “Kane, the case?” He asks, offering his hand out to take the black case from the imposing man. Kane hands it off to him, and then is waved away by August. He departs down the weather deck and disappears with a left turn into a, outboard passageway.
“Asher, this way.” August says as he leads the boy inside the vessel, shutting the door behind them. It almost sounds if the door snaps locked as they continue down the hall. Inside, the vessel is just a ornate as the outside, lined with fine polished woods and soft lights and sweet smells and carpeted halls. “If my curious observation about the Garden has upset you, then please accept my apologies. I meant it in no harm.” He off-handedly mentions as he opens a door leading into a lavishly decorated room. It smells faintly sweet, like opium but not overpowering. Several bookshelves line the room, filled with old tomes and volumes of undeterminable origins, backed agianst odd curiosities of a peculiar sort. Some strange and terrifying in their foreign appearance, odd things in jars filled with a preservative. Those stand in line with old artifacts from ancient cultures, fetishes to gods long forgotten, and various skulls of creatures unknown – fiends long since hunted to extinction. In the center of the room are two cushy chairs flanking a dark oak coffee table where upon rests a silver tray that has a steaming pot of tea and two cups beside it, along with all the fixings needed. “Please, sit, rest up my friend.” He motions for the genome to take a seat and partake in the tea he has prepared. The black tea has a strong smell, rich and full bodied, made from fine leaves that fill the room with its rich, steamy aroma.
“So, you have a brother. Is Beis a SeeD as well?” He asks, setting the case carrying the Eastern Star down, before he goes to casually scan through the books on one shelf, a single finger sliding along their spines. “I never realized that Genome’s had family or is it not in blood? Ah, here it is.” He exclaims as he pulls out a single book from the shelf and sets it down on the table beside the tea. The cover reads in the common tongue: Contemporary Warfare Theory – Just War Ethics in the Modern World.
“There, it is yours. Consider it a gift to help you on your way to understanding all aspects of warfare. I’m surprised it wasn’t required reading at the Garden, but… I’m sure Master Cid has made a particular curriculum that bests suits a basic understanding of the focus of the Garden. Who am I to question such a prestigious organization as that? So, how is the tea, do you like it? I find it quite settling myself, it’s a special blend picked from-” He flutters his hand, thinking of the word. “Oh what does it matter, some far away land.” He chuckles as he takes a seat, crossing his right leg over his left then resting his hands on his knee. “Oh, that reminds me; you mentioned earlier about the ‘big monster thing’, I assume you mean Sin? I have been meaning to study that manifestation of all the ills and woes of Yevon society – I have a rudimentary theory that it may be a product of Yevon itself, used to keep the people there in line. Like exploiting the concept of a hellish afterlife or a ploy of heavenly reward to keep men placid, just taken to an extreme.” He yammers on about his theory, taking pot shots at organized religion along the way – obviously he has some sort of personal agenda against the concept, though it is unclear why. He then changes the subject, “Feeling better yet?”
------------------------------ Word Count: 1107 Exp: 110.7
There was a haze in his head, it made him squirm and whimper even more than he had begun to. It was much like a puppy's unhappiness, as if he were being threatened with a newspaper. The worst part, he wasn't even aware of it, mostly - he had no idea what was going on inside his mind. All he could do was replay the words that had been said thusfar - he tried desperately to wipe them from his mind, and it was simply not working. Why was it he had to remember this, when everything else in his past was so convoluted and broken that he couldn't even look past a certain point in his life?
"But... I..." His protests were weak and feeble, barely even willing to be called protests, as August started leading the boy to his ship, a hand on his shoulder, gently, but firmly, guiding him the direction that August wanted to go. He didn't even notice his weapon dragging along behind him, his usually dancing tail remaining somewhat drooped and limp.
People cleared the way for them, whether because of the giant that was not too far off, or because Asher genuinely looked to be in some kind of trouble, which made the journey that much easier.
What if you are placed on the wrong side? What if they want you to kill Beis? Or Squall, or Marie? What if someone pays... His mind was reeling as he walked up the gangplank and on to the Hijrah proper He didn't know what exactly was going on - normally he'd be quite enamoured with the ship... for now, he barely even recognized the click of the door behind them, sealing them within it's confines.
All too soon, he was surrounded by the heady scents of the room - fire, and opiates, though he had no word for it. It only served to increase the mental fog that was his mind trying desperately to parce itself back into usable order.
As he was seated, he was fervently shaking his head, trying to break free of the spell the words had unintentionally - or at least, unwittingly - cast on him.
"N...no. It's fine... I just... I've never thought about... about that before..." He murmured his response, at least showing that he had not gone completely comatose, even if he was having a difficult time working the whole thing out. One hand never left his stomach, as he finally peered up, the scent of the tea filling the room, adding to the cloying pressure the place gave him.
August was quite obviously rich - pampered being the inappropriate term. He wasn't entirely certain what one would do if they were this rich... but August used his time wisely, it would seem.
"Beis... no, he's not a SeeD. I just... I just found out that we were brothers when we met a little while back. 'cause... my memories are all messed up and stuff. So... wait... what do you mean, you didn't know genomes could have family? Why wouldn't it be blood?" He asked, uncertainly, not having partaken of the tea just yet.
The book was held, now, which unfortunately meant his stomach lost the pressure he'd found was quite a constant for him. His legs no longer felt quite as weak, and his mind was at least trying to react, now. Trained eyes were finally taking in the room, trying to analyze and understand potential threats or problems... all the things one was trained to do as a SeeD. But even those basic skills were beginning to elude him.
Regardless, he looked down to the book. A book on War - one he'd never so much as heard of. No doubt, he would be forcing himself to study and learn a very new subject... one he was not too thrilled with.
But was that really such a bad thing? Learning what the Garden was truly training them for... it was no doubt a good thing in the long run. Biting his lip absently, he let his eyes fall down to the book. He wasn't entirely certain about the whole 'Sin' thing - nor was he too certain about Yevon of Religion in general, as he'd never actively participated in either.
He finally brought the tea to his lips, letting the powerful liquid touch his tongue. It was warm, but it didn't burn his lips or anything... and it didn't taste terrible, as most teas tended to do. It still wasn't milk, mind you, but it was certainly the most interesting flavour of tea he'd ever had.
Still, all he took was a sip. He was afraid of vomiting here. It wasn't even a physical sickness... merely a mental one, brought on by this awkward form of anguish.
Looking back to August, he tried to smile, lying as he did so. "Yeah... your ship is wonderful." He muttered, though there was a note of sincerity in his voice.
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“Really now?” August responds to Asher’s statement about never thinking back on something as important as to his purpose as a SeeD in this every increasing in complexity world. He looked to Asher, showing a sign of concern; his eyes are soft in their gaze, but glistening with something sinister – like a wolf in sheep’s clothing. “Well, suppose late is better then never. You cannot stay oblivious to the world forever, young Asher. A SeeD such as you should know this; it will assuredly keep you alive a lot longer – not that it should be any real problem for you. Genomes, such a curious race.”
While Asher spoke of Beis, August listened with perked ears standing at attention, while his hands were busily stuffing something black and pasty, tar-like, into a long, slanted pipe, like a cigar pipe but with a longer stem and a pipe-bowl. The stem appears to be made of some-sort of bone, etched with a peculiar though indistinctive design. On the table, he brings out a tiny oil-lamp of sorts; lights it then places the pipe-bowl over the chimney of the oil-lamp and lets it sit for a moment as Asher asks his curious question. “Don’t tell me you don’t even know that?” August asks, puzzled about the common fact that Genomes were originally created, no more then a puppet given the breath of life. August then chuckles lightly to himself as he lifts the pipe from the lamp. “You really are an oblivious one, Asher. I think that’s why I like you.” He brings the pipe’s stem to his lips and inhales – holding the vapors inside. “The innocence is refreshing.” He exhales a stream of sweet smelling vaporous smoke bellow out of his nose and muzzle. His face immediately appears to relax, like in a meditation, his ears slack and fold back lazily. His whole body appears to go slack as well, like overcome by a spell induced by the smoke he inhales. Even Asher should be able to feel a little light headed from the vapor.
For a brief moment, August appears lost in some spacey place – absent in mind but present in body. It only lasts for a brief moment, the vacant gaze in his eyes disappearing, replaced with coherency once more. “Ahh… wonderful. Asher…” His words for strung out and notably sleepy. “Here is… the most important lessen about… war. Now listen carefully… in such a world of conflict, like ours, a world of victims… and executioners, it is the job of thinking people, like you, not to be on the side of the executioners.” He closes his eyes and breathes in deep. When he opens his eyes again, he appears back to a more normal self, as Asher knew him.
“Yes, sorry, what were you saying?” August asks, eyes curiously alert once more. “Oh, the ship, yes yes. My father designed it for work related trips. It’s not exactly to my taste but I just haven’t had the time to update the drapes.” He sets the pipe back onto it’s lamp to let it heat up once again. “She serves me well, though I imagine she’s not nearly to the scale of airships you must be accustomed too being in SeeD. Military craft are truly a sight to behold, artistic in their functionality and lethality.” He takes up the pipe again, but before he brings it to his lips, he looks to Asher. “Ah, how rude of me, do you wish to try? It’s quite good at clearing the mind and is invariably sweet to the taste.” He offers it with a smile and a nod. “Don’t feel obligated, but it will relax you better then the tea and together, well you’ll be feeling like you are floating atop of the world.”
By now, strangely, Asher should start feeling a strange tingling in his body. Something brought out by the tea, it makes him slightly loopy - mind loose in a mild chemical haze. Not terribly unpleasent but definitely influential.
[/size]
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He let out a little 'mrr' of sorts, as the smoke began to fill the room with it's heady scent. Another subtle sip of the tea, and indeed, his stomach was settling. But that wasn't the only thing - his mind was settling. Slowing down, the cogs and wheels not turning so quickly. This, in most circumstances wouldn't be a problem - in him, it was allowing him to analyze his thoughts much more clearly. Sluggishly, perhaps, but much more clearly than if they had been racing all on their own, far out of his grasp, as they tended to do.
He tilted his head a bit, shaking his head. He just didn't understand. "Not a problem for me? Mrr... No more than anyone else... I think..." The chair was subtly more relaxing than he'd originally anticipated he might be. After all.. it was a strange place, a strange surrounding... a strange host. There were undercurrents that he couldn't quite pick up.
It was the statement of an executioner that made him quirk his brows, uncertainly.
"I... I don't mean to be so 'blivious. Just... my head... it doesn't work like other heads. Tha's why I'm dif'rent, Beis says.... Beis says I feel stuff he doesn't. I don' really get it."
He listened intently to the conversation - or at least, as intently as he could - about the ship. His father... another word he only knew by proxy, not by association. A word that held such strange symbols and meanings and colors, both in his dreams and out. Another aspect of his life he distinctly wished he could understand a little more thoroughly. Still - what a legacy to leave behind? The ship was amazing, even by SeeD standards - It wasn't a warship, which was quite possibly what added to it's appeal. Not to mention the cruiselike feel it had to it.
Still, the next question wasn't a personal one. It was another favor, meant to make Asher feel better.
It was obvious he was uncertain, but also, by the fact that his mind was just a tad muddled, that the thought that it might be bad for him didn't connect with anything. It searched desperately for a receptor as his hand snaked out, gently accepting the pipe. He'd never smoked before, but the theory was relatively sound - and he'd just seen August do it!
That all seemed fine and dandy to him. He carefully brought the tip to his lips, and inhaled, as deeply as he dared, his lungs almost immediately burning. He held it for a few seconds, before he began coughing - not a hacking cough, of the sickly... but the cough of someone who breathed in smoke and didn't know how to properly handle it.
He made to offer the pipe back to August, that feeling of headiness increasing by itself several times over. It was almost as if he watched his arm stretch forward to deliver it - or rather, that he was leaning back further than his body might normally permit. Quietly, he blinked a few times, trying to fight the sleepy feeling that rushed over his muscles, drawing him in to a warm embrace.
The genome was inexperienced, but his immortal body was relatively strong. He held on, but indeed, he could feel the most curious sensations that slipped through his body.
"Tell me... the things you mean. The things that are confusing me... you know them, don't you?" His head was bobbing softly, as though his neck had suddenly grown a little weaker. But he was right.
His thoughts were coming together, even if everything else about him was drifting apart. His tail lazily drifted around him, having apparently leaned the Spearshot against the chair next to him, without his awareness.
"No one tells me anything. Every'n... keeps their secrets 'bout me and I don't understand... 'nythin'." His word, too, though audible, were slightly thicker in accent. Was this normal?
He realized, of course, that this was less than safe - he couldn't defend himself properly if he had to. He couldn't protect his new friend August in this state.
"I feel so... strange. Like... there's things... that I should know..."
Though he did not notice, a few Pyreflies had begun to manifest behind him, a soft, multicolored illumination. Nothing more than a dancing show - but an example of how far gone his mind was, in some ways.
And an indicator of what made him so different in another.
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August watched carefully as the opiates take effect in Asher, analyzing his reactions like a scientist to a controlled study. He was unsure of the genomes reaction to the chemical properties of the drug, but from the looks of it, coupled with the hallucinogenic properties inside the tea leaves, Asher was soon in for a special trip. One of self-discovery for him and scientific endeavor for August, mutually they will learn something in that never ending pursuit for knowledge. When August saw the tail of this genome and his peculiar behavior, he knew he must study the boy – to unlock some secrets of the genomes and the immortality. What made them tick, how did they portray a sense of individuality, of the soul. Those were the questions August had about this boy – this unique doll.
“Yes, Asher, your head is very special.” August states through a toothy smile, hands gladly taking the expensive opium pipe from the boy’s grasp and setting it back on the lamp. “That is why I want to know you better, my friend.” He spoke softly, voice flowing like water from his mouth. To Asher, each word would seem like a profound truth spoken by the gods through the mouth of this mortal Burmecian. The room would pulsate, like inside a living creature, while Asher himself would feel more and more detached from the events happening around him – like watching a video-sphere, all mixed with a euphoric feeling consuming him. All stress washes away as his mind begins to awake.
“It is said, that of all the frictional resistances, the one that most retards mankind or truly, any kind’s movement is ignorance. Let me enlighten you, Asher.” He jostles for Asher’s attention, reaching to the boy’s cheek with a hand, turning his head so that their eyes can meet. “Look at my face, Asher. Stare into my eyes and let the feelings overcome you, do not fear it. Do not try to flee. Let it run its course.” August slowly takes the opium pipe from the lamp, brings it to his lips gently and breathes in softly and with a whisper lets the vapors flow out from his mouth, washing over Asher’s face like a punch of smoke.
Immediately, it hits Asher like a smack to the face and the already powerful effects are suddenly doubled. His vision blurs, the world around him swirls away and disappears and is soon replaced by a world of unique color and properties, as if he was just transported to a new plane of existence that shadows his own – the place appears awash in liquid, the way it moves and blurs without purpose or reason. Where once sat August, now sits a creature of an exceptional sort. Long and lanky and distinctly canine, with orange-red fur that carried with black and white highlights; its eyes are a fascinating shade of blue in one and orange in the other. It sits in the chair where once August sat, its long black furred and lanky legs crossed in a terribly awkward fashion that appears solely unnatural and uncomfortable for the beast.
“Asher, you hear me Asher?” The creature spoke, its words soothing, though its mouth never appears to move. “There’s much in this world you are unaware of, through truths and lies, the real world and the real you have been masked behind a cloak of falsities, swimming in a sea of denial.” The creature takes a breath from the opium pipe, the long stem resting between the digits of its raised paw. When it exhales, the colorful smoke swirls around before them, forming a strange window to revelation. The world of Terra appears, though only as August knows it from his readings on the subject. A strange blue world of light and glassy like earth, with strange structures jutting high into the sky like giant trees, there appears to be no end to the sky and no sign of earth below. Visions flutter across the vision, a great cataclysm indescribable, lines of suspended souls waiting for their return to life. An old man in black armor and a red pulsating orb buried in his chest, the soulless vessels of other Genomes, all these things fill the smoky vision. As the smoke fades, so does the vision, though he still remains in this strange world with that strange wolf-creature.
“That’s your world, Asher... Created, forged to for a purpose that never happened. Thrust into our world, you have lived in a fog since – do you deny this? Do my words ring true – you know this to be true, don't you. The truth hidden from you has come to the forefront. You were created with one purpose, you broke from that purpose and now you exist as something entirely else. A high powered mutant of some kind never even considered for mass production. You are special…”
The creature takes another inhale from the pipe, and exhales, the smoke revealing a new event. In the smoky swirls are depictions of war being waged, men against men, and killing over land and religion. There are SeeDs, ShinRa, Galbadian’s, soldiers from countries unknown, and creatures like demons dancing in a battle ridden fray. Destruction and chaos are the only sights to behold here, no hope, no love, just destruction. The distinctions between the good and bad side are blurred, with purpose, and neither side is shown positively. Black and white, good and evil, fail to exist in this vision.
“Our world, your new world, to which you have propagated under the pretense of helping. The cycle always continues, there are those who fight with it, fight against it, and live outside it. Which do you feel is your path now as SeeD?”
The vision fades once again, leaving Asher in the strange room. Assuredly, Asher’s head must be a flood of strange stimuli and thoughts. The world around him seemed so distantly real that it felt as much authentic as the one he left behind, what the canidae creature spoke must seem strangely prophetic yet peculiarly perverted. The distinct line between reality, truth and reason has quickly been erased and replaced by something entirely foreign and downright frightening.
“What do you make of it, these new learnings? Do you embrace them? Do you feel them to be false statements? Know that the opposite of a correct statement is a false statement. The opposite of a profound truth may well be another profound truth.” The increasingly bizarre canine creature tilts its head, cocking an ear up. “Now, help me understand something, Asher. What is the purpose of SeeD, what is the purpose of your existence? Why are you what you are, something so unique, so contradictory, what makes you special in a world of the mundane?”
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Eyes, heavy lidded still, flicked open, as he made that sound. He rocked, even in his curled position, as if he had no sense of balance. Tail waved, rising ever higher, as if flagging for some unknown reason.
His eyes snapped open. "I don't want to be a fake." He said, his voice losing that whispery, uncertain edge it had retained before. "My name is Asher, And I won't be a fake!" He shouted these words, and he had to fight to stand up, body wobbling uncertainly, legs jellylike beneath him.
Asher flopped back in the chair, whimpering softly, squeezing his eyes shut. "I'm not a fake..." He murmured, over and over. The fox had lied. It had to have been lying. Who would make people? And make them... incomplete? Just to house another's soul?
It was all wrong. He began to rock, gingerly, trying desperately to rein in his feelings. He felt like crying. He didn't know it, but he was crying.
The boy looked stunned, confused, hurt, all locked in a whirlwind of quiet, contented inebriation. His eyes were lidded, and though he was attentive, his mind was quite obviously stilted by whatever this was.
Nevertheless, things would continue to get trippy.
Those lights, dancing Pyreflies that were once the dead, and perhaps still were - continued to twinkle into existence, floating in from the Farplane and in to the world of the living, this boy providing a world of reception that perhaps no other being could attest to, save a Summoner of Yevon.
The Pyreflies began to slip ever closer to the boy, wrapping him in a coat of warmth and contentment, easing his mind in to a sleep that he had not been aware he needed.
As his body slumped, falling in to the throes of unconsciousness, it began to hover, rising quietly and without a rustle of clothes or tailfur. He paused, now a contented circle, curled up much like an infant might, his easy breathing evident that perhaps some of what he'd just experienced was far beyond him.
But the lights didn't stop there. They poured from him, small spheres of multicolored flame, that coalesced. One might assume that a Fiend were taking shape, having encountered him before, but there was a difference, this time. They did not burn together, and take a coherent, physical shape. No, as they wove a colorful tapestry of faux-life, the image they had become were infinitely less corporeal.
A boy, not like, and not unlike Asher, stood, staring at the fox. Staring at the Burmecian-Vieran. Staring at August. His hair, longer than Asher's, fell down to just beyond his knees, a straightened flow that billowed outward unnaturally, ignoring any gravitational dictations that might be made on physical people.
He was wearing what appeared to be a nightgown, or sleep-shirt of some sort, and his eyes were not eyes. They were two of the brightest burning Pyreflies that had ever graced Gaia. They were intense, and had they been generating heat, someone might find themselves faced with a flame the likes of which they would not be prepared for.
Then, the boy-shadow looked up, and murmured something impossible to hear.
The Pyreflies responded, gently floating forward, around, filling the room with color and image.
//
"He is what I am, though he is also what you are. There was a moment, when we were together, but apart - a hundred lives, all coming in to one. We came to find this boy, and found him to be not like you. We found him empty. Heedless of the problems it might bring, we filled him with every thing that we are. We overfilled him, and broke him and we continued to fill him. We changed him until he, and we, became one. There was only a single moment to do what we did, and we did it. Now he suffers for it. The purpose for us as we are now? Do you truly wish to know that? We will hunt for it. We will survive. We will see the destruction of that which has made us this way and perhaps we will find peace. Together. The we as we are shall show this world many, many things, though not all will be what this world will wish for. We shall, once our strength is our own again, bring about others like us. There are others like this boy - empty. We shall fill them. You say his purpose was unfulfilled. We disagree. We are proof that he alone has succeeded."
Lengthy words from silent lips - the sound reverberated from the entirety of the room. Each lingering wisp acting as a speaker of sorts, as the creature - the Unsent spirit - spoke. Riddles, uncertainties. A hypocrisy, too, all rolled in to a spirit, and spouted forth for the enlightenment of August.
The spirit took a step back, body seemingly decomposing once more in to pyreflies that slipped in to the boy, ignoring the fact that skin was meant to keep things out. The last to go were the eyes - those last two Pyreflies that seemed to linger.
"This boy is unique, for he is the first of his kind. He has the powers of the living and the powers of the Far. But mark our words... He shall not be the last - nay, more shall rise. And he? He shall lead them. Though he does not know it. Yet."
This time, with the pyreflies gone, the words came straight from Asher's mouth, before the 'eyes' flickered and winked out of existence.
The sleeping boy - for indeed, through all his naivete, he was still just a boy - made soft little purring sounds that wouldn't be out of place in a cat, as his body was placed once more on the seat, as if laid by invisible hands.
//
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Post by August Krasnow on Feb 17, 2010 4:31:17 GMT
When the boy, Asher, awakes, he finds himself in a different room then the one he had left. It was smaller; a place that could easily induce claustrophobia for it seemed to have no windows and a single door leading out. Simple, compact and filled with all kinds of man-made curiosities that litter shelves, hang from the ceiling, and stacked high on a nearby work bench where there stands August, fiddling with some strange device. Asher himself awakes in a chair near the bench; his eyes would first be met with the bright artificial light of the room before regaining total focus. From the effects of the tea and that which he smoked, he would still feel woozy, as if he just floated up from some strange, wonderful dream – refreshed but temporarily confused. The waning memory of the strange orange wolf-fox thing from his chemical induced dreams is now just merely a faint recollection – just a glimpse that quickly fades from sight upon looking to where August stands.
August glances back quickly, his eye falling on Asher for just a moment before they return to their original focus on the work bench. “You’re awake. Hope you are feeling alright.” August says while sliding down welding goggles over his eyes. A burst of radiant white light erupts from a tiny torch in his hands followed by the faint smell of burning metal that fills the room with its noxious smell. “You’ve been out for a few hours; so I brought you to my lab to watch over you.” The light fades and smoke dissipates as August turns away from the work bench, flipping up the lenses of the goggles and pulling off the leather gloves adoring his hands, setting them down on the bench. “I hope you haven’t slept past your curfew – if you indeed have one. I will personally speak with your captain or staff officer if need be.”
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"Mmmrrr..." He whimpered, ever so cutely in his now fading drug-induced sleep. Twitching, gently, as he made those noises, he tried desperately to claw his way from the sleep-addled darkness of his mind. As he opened his eyes, the last fleeting visions of a red Fox danced away from his swimming vision. August's voice came as a clear reminder of himself and what had happened... his eyes shot open, and he all but darted from the chair, as if he were startled.
Eyes darted around uncertainly, as he fought to keep his lunch... or what was left of it, anyways. Those dreams... or had they been dreams? No, they had been real. So very real... that he'd had such a hard time convincing himself he was just losing what little bit of his mind he possessed.
Letting out a deep breath, he murmured a gentle apology, uncertainty lacing his tone of voice. He coughed a bit, as though his throat hurt - it felt raw, no doubt because he'd never smoked in his life before, and it left the insides of his chest feeling scratchy. Despite that, though, he got no alleviation from scratching his chest through the vest.
Noting his Spearshot against the wall, he at least felt a little more safe, knowing precisely where it was. LEtting out another deep breath, he looked back to August, though he had to keep his eyes slightly averted to keep from the brilliant light that he kept emitting from that torch.
"I... I'm sorry. Do you know... what happened?" He asked, softly. "I remember a fox. He told me stories... stories that were true..." That much, at least, he believed. His eyes would easily betray that to someone who was so capable of reading people as August had apparently been.
He was trying his hardest not to pout, but his lack of animation was certainly the equivalent. He bit his lip gently, watching August, as if hoping that the mouse-rabbit-man would be his current salvation. Save him from the thoughts that were now ravaging his very inner canvas... trying desperately to make him... understand? No, that was the wrong word.
TO make him quake. On the insides.
Wincing a little bit, he rubbed the back of his head. Yeah, that was starting to make him feel a little queasy, too. Headache, nausea... did he suddenly have the flu?
Either way, he wanted to cling to August... for support, for something.
So he did. He approached on wobbly legs, and all but fell in to him, wrapping arms around his waist as though he might very well use August for physical support as well as mental.
"He said I was a fake..." He murmured, his voice quiet, still, eyes starting to tear up. Everything felt so wrong right now.
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Post by August Krasnow on Feb 17, 2010 8:35:20 GMT
Hearing and seeing Asher in such a state, August, as if nearly automated, reaches for a string hanging from the ceiling and tugs softly on it. In the distance, the soft sound of a bell ringing is heard through the door and after a moment one of August’s assistant peaks in, a young man, no older then seventeen perhaps.
“Our guest has been a little ill, send for water” August commands with a passing glance to his help, paying him no more attention then need be. The door shuts as the servant departs, leaving the two alone for a short time longer. August takes one more passing glance to Asher before turning back to his work bench. “It’s quite alright, Asher. You wouldn’t be the first person to ever get ‘pipe’ sick. I could regale you with the horror of my first time using one. I spent the night on the floor with my head in the latrine – to say the least. You’re holding your own quite well, despite.” While Asher spills out his confused questions about the events that had transpired in the chemical induced trip, August toys around with an object on his work bench, only indication of his attention passed to Asher is a turned, upright ear twitching to the boys every word. When the boy grew silent again, August merely turned his ear away and focused on the object in his possession, being assembled on the bench. An awkward moment passed between them, as Asher gathered himself as best he could, rise to his feet while August worked. Then suddenly, taken by surprise, August feels something wrap around him, startling him from his fixation. August yelped out in surprise as Asher wrapped himself around the Burmecian from the side. August raised his arms up, as if fearful of touching the boy with his hands or perhaps out of surprise and concern from knocking the item on the bench away. Slowly, he lowered his right hand onto Asher’s head, ruffling lightly the boy’s hair, while his other hand quickly throws a small rag over the item on the bench then braces himself against the edge of the wooden table.
”A fox? With blue and orange eyes, perhaps?” He asks curiously, looking down to the boy. His expression was more of analytical then concern. “To me, it sounds like you saw a wolf, not a fox.” He explains. “You encountered, for a lack of a better explanation, a memory Loci, Asher. The properties that you smoked have a tendency to bring out parts of our psyche that we best wish to forget or are perhaps trapped within us. They are only for you to understand and analyze, much like a dream but far more profound.” Of course, he was purposefully skirting around the tea Asher had drank, the true source for his strange episode and the method for his plan. All Asher could tell by August expression was just a man, looking now both concerned and understanding, like a caring teacher – establishing a certain hierarchy of closeness. “Do you believe you are fake, Asher? Do you not breathe? Do you not feel? Do you not live? Here, I wish to show you something.” In a sudden strange change in his demeanor, August places both his hands on the boy’s shoulders, giving them a gentle squeeze, and then lightly pushes him away but still keeping him close so that he can move more easily.
Moving to the bench, August reaches above to a little clockwork model of some flying creature, a tiny sparrow made of brass. Clearly exposed are gears, cogs, assortment of wheels and other items that are finely crafted and so purposefully jointed that the bird seems as if it could take flight out of August’s hand at any moment. August then kneels down before Asher, keeping his left arm outstretched and gripping the boys shoulder still in reassurance while holding up the clockwork sparrow. “Now, Asher, what does this appear to you? I imagine just a simple toy, or device, something fake. It’s nothing like a real sparrow is it? It’s all metal and shiny, not colorful and soft like a bird… but what happens then if we give it a name?” His eyes dart between the clockwork sparrow and Asher. “Let’s call the thing, Emily. Emily the sparrow… now does it still feel so fake? It has a name, just like anyone. Yet, she doesn’t move. She remains lifeless like a corpse, still seemingly fake but… what if suddenly we gave her –“ Removing his left arm from Asher’s shoulder, August makes a simple little motion of his hand at the clockwork sparrow and suddenly it springs to life, it’s metallic beak tweeting, heading turning and bobbing, and wings fluttering and flapping in August’s grip, as if it was trying to take flight. “Life. Suddenly, she doesn’t seem so fake anymore, now does she? She moves, she speaks, she gives off all the same appearances as something alive, yet she is still made of brass and gears – far too heavy to fly with all that, so she can’t be a real sparrow but then, you would be wrong once again.” He lightly tosses the clockwork sparrow into the air, and it take flight and flutters around the tiny room on its own accord. “Is Emily still so fake now that she can fly like any bird of feather? Oh, but you might say that she has no personality, no soul, an empty machine without a ghost, but what is is that ghost? Something we are born with, that only those things that are produced by the joining of male and female may be gifted with or is it something created when the empty vessel finally takes flight for the first time…” A warm smile spreads across as suddenly Emily the clockwork sparrow lands on Asher’s shoulder, bobbing along it as any bird might, giving a little tweet before taking flight once more then landing on a wooden rack, sitting patiently as she watches. “You just have to ask yourself, do you still think you are fake?”
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Eyes followed the Sparrow in it's haphazard flight, the clockwork creature even managing to chirrup almost perfectly. There was only the slightest hint of a metallic noise when it did, which was probably the only thing that could give it away. In flight, the toy did indeed become alive.
But the question still fell - was it real, just because it could mimic life? After all, hadn't Asher done the same thing? He could move and speak, hell, he could feel, couldn't he? But just because he could fake life didn't mean he was currently experiencing that sensation. After all... he couldn't age. He didn't have a soul... though he was a bit different. How long had he been a child? How long would he remain a child?
How long is forever, to a creature that can't age and die?
Asher bit his lip, as he outstretched a hand, grateful for the connection of a hand on his shoulder. The clockwork creature hopped from it's perch, flickering it's little wings as it did so, landing on his finger. Amusingly enough, as Asher turned his head to examine it more closely, so did the bird, mimicing his gesture almost perfectly.
He smiled softly at that, lifting the little bird up to his shoulder once more, where it took up a spot, 'singing' merrily, albeit quietly now.
Asher's gaze returned to August. His friend - the guy who wouldn't lie to him. Obviously... he knew about the Genomes. It was what he meant earlier... why Asher was so strange. Yet still, he persisted in trying to make Asher feel better about his current situation. Not problem, exactly... no, he was still alive. It was just a situation of defining that life.
He smiled wide at him, though his eyes still looked a little reddened. He had cried, though not too terribly much. It had just hurt so much, thinking that he wasn't real. That no matter what he did, he was just a vessel for a ghost that would never come. Letting out a little breath, he shook his head.
"I... don't think I'm fake." He replied quietly, his voice full of reassurance - mostly for himself. Saying it was easy. Believing it, though, was difficult - it was just up to him to determine whether or not it was even remotely possible. For now... he was convinced he was.
Still, this was bringing on a few more sad, sad thoughts. If he was made, he couldn't have a brother. Why, then had Beis lied to him? Beis knew all about the Genomes... he came from that Ball Brand place, where the rest of the Genomes lived. How could he not know this? And why did he deem it the best course of action to leave Asher in the dark about it?
He grimaced at that thought, knowing full and well he was going to have to have a conversation with him.
Possibly by force.
Shaking his head and shrugging his shoulders a bit, which caused the little sparrow to poke at his ear. He smirked a little bit - it didn't hurt, but it would be more than an adequate reminder.
"Thank you, August!" This time he gave him another hug. One of happiness! His tail swayed with much more vim and vigor, excitement evident in every fiber of his body once more. "I was scared." He added, before nodding. "But now I'm not."
At that point, though, his eyes shot open. "Ack! Hours?!" He teleported, completely forgetting he was holding dear August, who was going to accompany him on his little trip. They soundlessly popped back into existence in a flurry of Pyreflies, on top of the deck. His eyes were busily scanning the Airship docks, until a very crestfallen look touched his face.
"I missed my boat..." He murred, though this time, it wasn't true despair or unhappiness, just a distinct unhappiness with the situation. This was a problem - headmaster Cid wasn't going to buy him another Airship ticket, so that meant it was going to come out of his pocket.
The Pyreflies floated softly around the two of them, granting Asher a strange green aura - Reflect, if August was any good at spotting spells or spell effects.
Wrinkling his nose a bit, he pouted, flopping backwards on to his butt, leaving August standing there. "Blegh. I'm in trouble..."
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Post by August Krasnow on Feb 19, 2010 9:02:12 GMT
August stood flabbergasted at what just happened to him, suddenly he was in the heart of his ship, encased in a tiny room and now suddenly he stood on the upper weather deck under the twilight sky. He checked himself, patting his body over as to reassure himself that he was in one piece. He had never experienced teleportation before, only heard of it as theory and in the possession of only the most powerful of mages and sorcerers. Now to have witnessed it first hand, actually been subject to it, he recollected the experience with wonderment. This boy, this Genome, was something far too unique for its own good. Like the last of a dying species, this ‘creature’ was worth more then its weight in gold.
Once assure he was indeed whole, he turned his attention to the boy in despair. The floating of Pyreflies indicated an emotional response – or so August has gathered based on his earlier findings. They appear to be a type of auto-defense mechanism as they enveloped him with what must either be the spell Reflect or something similar, August didn’t feel it necessary to analyze that further for now, a more pressing situation was presenting itself. “I was afraid this might happen.” August mentioned, casually looking to the boy with a slight jaunt in his voice. “Since this is mostly my fault, then I must insist that I take you to Balamb, I can send word to the Garden of the situation and inform them you will be there shortly.” August suggests, trying to lighten the boy’s spirits. “I’ve wanted to speak with your Headmaster anyhow; this will give me a good excuse to do such. What do you say, Asher? Shall you travel with me?”
It wasn’t as if Asher really had any other options, trapped a distance away from Balamb and with the warring nations nearby it wasn’t exactly easy to travel unless you had a reason or money, which August had both of. His company’s name would easily gain him passage through or near war restricted territory. “You’ll be quite safe with me; this ship has a special ability to by-pass the troubles in Galbadia and Midgar. We’ll be back at Balamb before you know it. Infact, we may beat your vessel there.” He says with a playful smile.
Meanwhile, below decks, a servant arrived at August’s laboratory with the water as requested, only to find it empty. She curiously looks about with her head peaking from the door, calling a few ‘hellos?’ out, then gives up and walks away.
Asher seemed startled and surprised at August's offer. After all, it wasn't really his fault, Asher could have turned the smoke down, right? He'd allowed it to happen, too. Still, he smiled wide at the offer, and clapped his hands together. "That sounds amazing! Yes, yes! I really do wanna." He said, cheerfully, desperately nodding as though the offer might expire if he didn't take it up immediately.
He wrapped his arms behind his back, knuckles resting just above his tail, which was now eagerly wagging back and forth. All in all, this day was turning out even better as time passed. Sure, he had that scary dream - he found out the truth about Genomes, and that his brother had lied to him...
But he'd made a friend. A really good one, if he was any indicator.
Offering his hand he smiled. "C'mon... I'll take us back." He said, his voice laced with excitement. "Can you teach me how to fly an airship? Or build a rifle like yours! Or or or..." He started babbling absently, before reaching out and taking August's hand.
Again, he simply willed them to where they'd been before, bringing more Pyreflies as he did so.
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“Asher, you hear me Asher?” The creature spoke, its words soothing, though its mouth never appears to move. “There’s much in this world you are unaware of, through truths and lies, the real world and the real you have been masked behind a cloak of falsities, swimming in a sea of denial.” The creature takes a breath from the opium pipe, the long stem resting between the digits of its raised paw. When it exhales, the colorful smoke swirls around before them, forming a strange window to revelation. The world of Terra appears, though only as August knows it from his readings on the subject. A strange blue world of light and glassy like earth, with strange structures jutting high into the sky like giant trees, there appears to be no end to the sky and no sign of earth below. Visions flutter across the vision, a great cataclysm indescribable, lines of suspended souls waiting for their return to life. An old man in black armor and a red pulsating orb buried in his chest, the soulless vessels of other Genomes, all these things fill the smoky vision. As the smoke fades, so does the vision, though he still remains in this strange world with that strange wolf-creature.