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10-13-2013, 06:46 PM
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Ulrik the Engineer
Ulrik lifted his bronze gaze from the body of a repaired wolf (with a tail this time) only to see a long lost friend (?) make his way up the path. The Engineer had not expected d'Artagnan to return. His fallen body in the Dragon's Throat had looked less than... comfortable, to say the least. He had almost expected the bay doctor to either be dead or imprisoned somewhere, but most likely dead. So, to see this similar minded friend (?) crest the hill brought emotions to his black soul that were almost happy. Almost. So close. Not quite there. Perhaps he was not the best one to come speaking to d'Artagnan at this time. What he was feeling was something that Ulrik could never understand. His entire life was his work, and he could never feel separated from it. No higher or lesser rank would ever satisfy the need in his soul to create these machines, to be called The Engineer, to be the architect of nature itself in this unnatural way. The title of crafter or mechanic was not bestowed upon him by anyone before he bestowed it upon himself, and to say that he was married to his work implied that he could be divorced from it - and that was terribly far from the truth. He was his work, in every way. To cut it from his being would be to rip out the majority of his soul and mind. Did that make him shallow? One dimensional? In a way, yes. But within this single dimension was a well cut, multi-faceted diamond which encompassed every normal emotion, beautiful dream, and beating, tender heart. To access the child inside was to go through the machine, navigate the wiring to the CPU. Ulrik knew none of this, none of his inner workings. He was ignorant to his own soul and so incredibly sensitive to the outside world. Ulrik left his machine and picked up a trot toward the doctor, limping slightly on his scabbed front, right leg. The thick hair of his mane, tail, beard and chest were startlingly clean, and he looked slightly less like the disheveled scientist and more like an upstanding citizen. Oh how looks could be deceiving. "d'Artagnan!" he called, approaching in a pleasant way with the adolescent Kirchoff padding along behind on over-sized paws. The younger hellhound sniffed the air at the other of his kind, standing close to the idiot engineer. "We never got to finish our... ah... project that Mauja brought to us long ago," he said, the deep, graveled tones of his voice almost sad. He was, of course, referring to that equine mare Mauja had convinced to come home with him; Ulrik had plans, but alas, foiled. "Maybe we could try again?" he asked, wanting to fuse machine and flesh but knowing he could not do so without the doctor's valuable knowledge and skills. Then, he furrowed his brows. "Are you all right? I have not seen you in... well... in a while." Smooth, Ulrik. Kirchoff sighed in boredom and cast a glance at his bondmate that called him hopeless before wandering in the direction of food. Rats tended to burrow near the trees.... |
