Re: Watercolor Wonder
Posted: Sat Mar 31, 2018 6:58 pm
Confusion inside him, a strange feeling, but not unfamiliar. For a moment it was all overlapping; the meeting of them all, the questions of right now, the decision to seek that other and form a bond that came before any of it.
What could he mean, to ask if it was why he was called? Called? His bonded hadn't called to him, hadn't summoned him. That wasn't how it worked; it wasn't how any of this worked. Born of magic, born of ether, stepping forth as himself in full, that was the way of it. He'd taken some time, first, established himself as himself; learned some lessons in the making of who he was, who he is.
Then he'd chosen to bond. Not a popular choice, amongst some, but it seemed logical to him. Power and security, strength and safety, for the price of establishing a link; not much different than having a non-Serian as part of your circle, he had thought. Oh, it was different from that, yes, much more different to have someone that was tasked with your care. In a circle the bonds were shared, and there were perhaps those two that were supposed to see to the health of the circle as a whole, but it wasn't at all the same as this sort of belonging.
All of which didn't begin to touch his ease with causing harm. That was simply a part of who he was; nothing to do with his coming, with his choices. You could always find out how the various fleshes reacted, but beyond that there were simply times where something just needed to die.
Sometimes it was simple. Sometimes, things merely escalated. And in other instances it was a callous lack of patience. Plasma was missing a vital part of empathy, the ability to actually care if someone got hurt.
It didn't mean he was careless, of course; one need only reference his caution with the plasma overflow up to this point to see that. For him it was the equivalency of showing caution while walking with someone past a pool of acid, only to turn around and smack them hard enough to break their neck because they were a nuisance.
It was his modus operandi.
But then protection, also a new concept, also strange to him. He was supposed to protect, supposed to watch out for those that needed it; but protective was not a natural part of him. Possession could be, perhaps. He had never tried before, but it seemed to be the basis that the Warrior in their group operated upon. It was not so much a matter of caring, with that one, but of claiming.
Plasma understood claiming.
And he would certainly harm any that sought to harm the one he most wished to claim, the one that everyone got a secret little smile about; she would resist, would take convincing. Far too independent to simply agree, too fierce to be tamed. He would have to work for it; he had no doubt at all that he would manage.
Causing harm was already easy for him, but for her it would be easier still, as reflexive as breathing and given about as much thought.
But the words for all this would be hard to come by, hard to impress upon those that could not so casually destroy. It was a fundamental difference, something that may be beyond their ability to process.
Or perhaps not. There seemed not to be any fear, at least. Perhaps he was underestimating them.
Could be dangerous, to underestimate a thing.
If you're trying to ask if that's the motivation that drives me, he said, his gaze falling heavily on the stallion that had been first to speak, then the answer is no. My drive is power. It seemed likely that this is what the other had intended to ask; he had spoke of purpose, after all. And in truth, the vague curiosity on the various reactions to his element were focused solely on strengthening his knowledge, his abilities. He knew, for instance, that for some species even plasma was most effective when focused between the weak points between their scaled armor. That had been quite the interesting lesson. And one he counted as successful, as it ended with no true harm to himself.
He'd not stopped once to consider the toll he had taken on the population of the species; luckily there was a chance at recovery, as he hadn't completely wiped them out, but the very concept of such consideration had not once occurred to him.
And yes, he continued, turning that burnt-brown gaze to Reverie, I suppose I do. He would destroy something attacking the more breakable of his bondherd just as easily as anything else, so in that manner at least he protected. Normally it would be to end the distraction of such irritating noises; and normally, both the attacker and intended victim would be charred crispy. Distinguishing between the two wouldn't be too much of an inconvenience, he supposed.
As long as the intended victim promptly shut up and left afterwards.
You are silent, he observed, shifting his gaze to Lace once more. Strange creature, he kept thinking it, nothing that he could decipher in the way her brain worked. Failed experiment, with her. He accounted the other two as being a success; he'd learned a few things, enough to reach the ability to converse. In his own way, at least. The words could be so hard to find, at times, the right ones that would explain in full those things that seemed obvious to him. Others had difficulty making leaps through logic, he had found; connect each and every star, or the constellations were just so many sparks in the sky. If you are weary, perhaps you might rest.
Rest was beginning to sound appealing. It had been a full day.
Perhaps we all might rest, soon.
What could he mean, to ask if it was why he was called? Called? His bonded hadn't called to him, hadn't summoned him. That wasn't how it worked; it wasn't how any of this worked. Born of magic, born of ether, stepping forth as himself in full, that was the way of it. He'd taken some time, first, established himself as himself; learned some lessons in the making of who he was, who he is.
Then he'd chosen to bond. Not a popular choice, amongst some, but it seemed logical to him. Power and security, strength and safety, for the price of establishing a link; not much different than having a non-Serian as part of your circle, he had thought. Oh, it was different from that, yes, much more different to have someone that was tasked with your care. In a circle the bonds were shared, and there were perhaps those two that were supposed to see to the health of the circle as a whole, but it wasn't at all the same as this sort of belonging.
All of which didn't begin to touch his ease with causing harm. That was simply a part of who he was; nothing to do with his coming, with his choices. You could always find out how the various fleshes reacted, but beyond that there were simply times where something just needed to die.
Sometimes it was simple. Sometimes, things merely escalated. And in other instances it was a callous lack of patience. Plasma was missing a vital part of empathy, the ability to actually care if someone got hurt.
It didn't mean he was careless, of course; one need only reference his caution with the plasma overflow up to this point to see that. For him it was the equivalency of showing caution while walking with someone past a pool of acid, only to turn around and smack them hard enough to break their neck because they were a nuisance.
It was his modus operandi.
But then protection, also a new concept, also strange to him. He was supposed to protect, supposed to watch out for those that needed it; but protective was not a natural part of him. Possession could be, perhaps. He had never tried before, but it seemed to be the basis that the Warrior in their group operated upon. It was not so much a matter of caring, with that one, but of claiming.
Plasma understood claiming.
And he would certainly harm any that sought to harm the one he most wished to claim, the one that everyone got a secret little smile about; she would resist, would take convincing. Far too independent to simply agree, too fierce to be tamed. He would have to work for it; he had no doubt at all that he would manage.
Causing harm was already easy for him, but for her it would be easier still, as reflexive as breathing and given about as much thought.
But the words for all this would be hard to come by, hard to impress upon those that could not so casually destroy. It was a fundamental difference, something that may be beyond their ability to process.
Or perhaps not. There seemed not to be any fear, at least. Perhaps he was underestimating them.
Could be dangerous, to underestimate a thing.
If you're trying to ask if that's the motivation that drives me, he said, his gaze falling heavily on the stallion that had been first to speak, then the answer is no. My drive is power. It seemed likely that this is what the other had intended to ask; he had spoke of purpose, after all. And in truth, the vague curiosity on the various reactions to his element were focused solely on strengthening his knowledge, his abilities. He knew, for instance, that for some species even plasma was most effective when focused between the weak points between their scaled armor. That had been quite the interesting lesson. And one he counted as successful, as it ended with no true harm to himself.
He'd not stopped once to consider the toll he had taken on the population of the species; luckily there was a chance at recovery, as he hadn't completely wiped them out, but the very concept of such consideration had not once occurred to him.
And yes, he continued, turning that burnt-brown gaze to Reverie, I suppose I do. He would destroy something attacking the more breakable of his bondherd just as easily as anything else, so in that manner at least he protected. Normally it would be to end the distraction of such irritating noises; and normally, both the attacker and intended victim would be charred crispy. Distinguishing between the two wouldn't be too much of an inconvenience, he supposed.
As long as the intended victim promptly shut up and left afterwards.
You are silent, he observed, shifting his gaze to Lace once more. Strange creature, he kept thinking it, nothing that he could decipher in the way her brain worked. Failed experiment, with her. He accounted the other two as being a success; he'd learned a few things, enough to reach the ability to converse. In his own way, at least. The words could be so hard to find, at times, the right ones that would explain in full those things that seemed obvious to him. Others had difficulty making leaps through logic, he had found; connect each and every star, or the constellations were just so many sparks in the sky. If you are weary, perhaps you might rest.
Rest was beginning to sound appealing. It had been a full day.
Perhaps we all might rest, soon.