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ULRIK the ENGINEER
So easily emotions absorbed rationality in all of their hatred and love. Infatuation and desire clouded reason, leaving the heart open for breaking and the body open for betrayal. Similarly, hate dulled the senses in a useful but foolish way – disallowing for logical assessment of others separate from prejudice. Ulrik rarely let such emotions control him, and he was a master for seeing things simply as they were. That was not to say that he was not troubled, angry, or sad, but he compartmentalized to the point where he completely lacked humanity. Objectivity came with a cool pride, an icy stare vacant and void of self until he became the very machines he created. Today was not one of those times. Today he allowed himself to foolishly feel, and what he felt was conflict. He had no reason to care about this foolish, petty mare who was too weak to overcome all of his forces. He had no reason to be inspired by her strange and crafty beauty. He had no reason to hate her for blaming him for her own people’s sins. In fact, he should ignore her all together. Who was he to change a mind so stubborn and entrenched in such foolish notions and self-pity? But yet he stood before her, waiting to be judged. He stood with a relatively open heart, knowing that he would get stabbed and left to die. Ulrik was stupid for doing this, he knew. But, no logic could turn his hooves now as he stared into white, unseeing eyes. It was as if they looked through his very soul – that color (or lack of color). Maybe that was why he stared so. What would she find beneath his layers – if there were any? Would she judge him and find him a simple engineer, heartless and iron like his creations. Or would she find a spark of redemption, buried deep beneath the abuse and deaths? Part of it was pride. Testing himself. He would stand firm before the gaze of her judgment and smirk into her prejudice, daring her to bury herself deeper into a hole. So many outcomes. Which would she choose? Ulrik watched her carefully, bronze eyes tracing her body for subtle signs of unspoken words. He could guess only a few from the flaring of nostrils and the turn of her gaze. And so he spoke – honestly and truthfully. He was not here to taunt her, and somewhere, he cared. She said she would be fine, but that sounded like a lie told to comfort one’s self before a solid break. He didn't believe her at all. Essetia could lie to herself all she wanted, but he would not be lied to – not so easily. Thus, he stood, unmoving and not acknowledging. Then, she scoffed – a poorly constructed and desperate barb at his attempt at kindness. Perhaps that emerged from her own pride and anger, not wanting him, of all the creatures on this earth, to be the one beside her now. Ulrik might had stripped her of her power by taking her to the Basin and keeping her from war, so it would make sense that she had to try one more time to bash her bloodied fists against the fortress of his will. Ulrik lifted one corner of his mouth, but light did not touch his eyes. “Deceptive?” he asked. “I did not deceive you. What I said about my home was honest. The war was not ours, but from the Edge. We supported our allies efficiently and excellently as is our way in the north.” The Engineer cocked his head to the side – the gesture unnaturally innocent. “In what ways have I lied to you?” he asked honestly, curious as to what she perceived to be false. There was always truth in lies… “I could not tell you why I am here. I am still working that out myself. But…” he trailed, obviously uncomfortable with the subject. He stiffened; seemingly growing in size as he defiantly lifted his neck as if to deny his own emotions. “I know what it feels like to lose everything, and I know that being alone with your loss only amplifies the grief.” The stallion frowned. “Hate is only cathartic for so long.” Pausing, he looked at the ground, uprooting a small amount of metal. There, he created a small, mechanical bird. The little, metal sparrow had not the power to fly, but it jumped around, mimicking the behavior of birds while flitting around on the ground. He watched his own creation move around, not sure what to say – not now. |
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