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08-21-2015, 05:01 PM
They say we are what we are, but we don't have to be
He was grumpy.
He'd been collecting rocks. Desert rocks were pretty consistent: agate, sandstone, granite, quartz, shale. Boring things in a boring pile for the boring golem he would never build. He'd tried adding some treasures to spice things up. A couple pieces of flint, some rocks with long veins of copper in them, a couple good geodes, and a little bit of of the titanium that had begun flaking off his side. Boring. He'd found some malachite, but even that shiny green stone which usually delighted him so much wasn't enough to satisfy the boy, and he stared at the pile with growing frustration, blue feathers ruffling above his twitching tail.
It had seemed like such a good idea, building a golem for the Throat. He'd built a few prototypes but non had been quite right- that was ok, he'd figure it out, right? Ha. He was now what felt like thousands of models later, and still he couldn't settle on a design. Nothing was big enough, nothing was strong enough, nothing was fast or handsome or whole. Perhaps the problem was that he had such an indistinct idea of what exactly he wanted- or, perhaps, it was that he had too distinct an idea, too clear an image of towering bay and flaming wings and imposing eyes and distance. No, Zero didn't want to make a golem that was Gaucho. He wanted to make one that was better than Gaucho.
And that, it turned out, was an impossible task.
As he entered his second year of life Zero's feelings on his father had grown no kinder. If anything they were more inflamed as time wore on and his father's absence grew more pronounced, the uncomfortable void between them growing deeper, to the point where Zèklè's idea of Gaucho was entirely removed from the truth, self-created and surrounded by cruel illusions. Where the lightning bot idolized his mother he had begun now to revile his father, unjustly angry for a multitude of perceived injustices. He had too many other children to care about Zero. He had never loved Ampere. He had been disgusted by the missing wing, the boy was sure of it, an probably was ashamed of his damaged offspring. That's why he'd never claimed him, the way he claimed his other children.
He stomped, snorting angrily, tail feathers flared. Well, Zero would show them!
If he could just get this stupid goddamn golem to work!
"Talk?"
He'd been collecting rocks. Desert rocks were pretty consistent: agate, sandstone, granite, quartz, shale. Boring things in a boring pile for the boring golem he would never build. He'd tried adding some treasures to spice things up. A couple pieces of flint, some rocks with long veins of copper in them, a couple good geodes, and a little bit of of the titanium that had begun flaking off his side. Boring. He'd found some malachite, but even that shiny green stone which usually delighted him so much wasn't enough to satisfy the boy, and he stared at the pile with growing frustration, blue feathers ruffling above his twitching tail.
It had seemed like such a good idea, building a golem for the Throat. He'd built a few prototypes but non had been quite right- that was ok, he'd figure it out, right? Ha. He was now what felt like thousands of models later, and still he couldn't settle on a design. Nothing was big enough, nothing was strong enough, nothing was fast or handsome or whole. Perhaps the problem was that he had such an indistinct idea of what exactly he wanted- or, perhaps, it was that he had too distinct an idea, too clear an image of towering bay and flaming wings and imposing eyes and distance. No, Zero didn't want to make a golem that was Gaucho. He wanted to make one that was better than Gaucho.
And that, it turned out, was an impossible task.
As he entered his second year of life Zero's feelings on his father had grown no kinder. If anything they were more inflamed as time wore on and his father's absence grew more pronounced, the uncomfortable void between them growing deeper, to the point where Zèklè's idea of Gaucho was entirely removed from the truth, self-created and surrounded by cruel illusions. Where the lightning bot idolized his mother he had begun now to revile his father, unjustly angry for a multitude of perceived injustices. He had too many other children to care about Zero. He had never loved Ampere. He had been disgusted by the missing wing, the boy was sure of it, an probably was ashamed of his damaged offspring. That's why he'd never claimed him, the way he claimed his other children.
He stomped, snorting angrily, tail feathers flared. Well, Zero would show them!
If he could just get this stupid goddamn golem to work!
"Talk?"
