He doesn’t want to be here, but where to go?
The sea doesn’t seem big enough, he can swim to the bottom and back up again; he can discover all of its secrets, if he so chooses, and learn the name of each fish and creature that calls its depths home. The sky can only carry him so far—space, space means darkness and cold. It’s vast and empty, possibly endless; but there are no voices there, no warmth; not a single happy place to be found. He could sail off to the sun and burn up—that would surely cure his boredom, but he doesn’t want to die; it’s not a natural thing to want to die. He experienced that feeling, once.
Never again.
But then.
Maybe it isn’t boredom.
Maybe he’s lonely.
He has friends, sort of, sure; but they’re only a means to pass the time.
That’s all they have ever been.
There’s women, he can have his fair share of those—but there’s no reward in it, it’s not like coming home and having your whole day made at ‘hello.’ It’s not like curling up under the moon and counting the stars. It’s not soft kisses and tight hugs, or having them memorize and mention your favorite things simply because they love them—simply because it reminds them of you. He understands that now. He knows what made Quark ache and Nocturnal run; he knows why Else chose Caius, he knows what Dominion had with her family.
He knows.
It doesn’t hurt, it just makes him wonder—makes him feel as vast and empty as space.
--
Spring hasn’t quite taken hold yet; no children, no flowers, just bare trees and frost; gray cloudy days and bitter cold nights. He cannot sleep, sleep promises nightmares filled with scalpels and blood and the crunching of bones; so he walks, he leaves his little daughter safe in her den and checks the perimeter like a good soldier. His breath billows up like puffs of smoke, his footsteps are marked by soft crunches—branches rattle, a couple of deer scramble ahead, but besides that there doesn’t seem to be a sound for miles. Tarnished never stops to wonder why; that’s just how it is tonight, that’s just how it’s supposed to be. And he doesn’t mind.
It’s better than screaming.
[It's... bad.]
The sea doesn’t seem big enough, he can swim to the bottom and back up again; he can discover all of its secrets, if he so chooses, and learn the name of each fish and creature that calls its depths home. The sky can only carry him so far—space, space means darkness and cold. It’s vast and empty, possibly endless; but there are no voices there, no warmth; not a single happy place to be found. He could sail off to the sun and burn up—that would surely cure his boredom, but he doesn’t want to die; it’s not a natural thing to want to die. He experienced that feeling, once.
Never again.
But then.
Maybe it isn’t boredom.
Maybe he’s lonely.
He has friends, sort of, sure; but they’re only a means to pass the time.
That’s all they have ever been.
There’s women, he can have his fair share of those—but there’s no reward in it, it’s not like coming home and having your whole day made at ‘hello.’ It’s not like curling up under the moon and counting the stars. It’s not soft kisses and tight hugs, or having them memorize and mention your favorite things simply because they love them—simply because it reminds them of you. He understands that now. He knows what made Quark ache and Nocturnal run; he knows why Else chose Caius, he knows what Dominion had with her family.
He knows.
It doesn’t hurt, it just makes him wonder—makes him feel as vast and empty as space.
--
Spring hasn’t quite taken hold yet; no children, no flowers, just bare trees and frost; gray cloudy days and bitter cold nights. He cannot sleep, sleep promises nightmares filled with scalpels and blood and the crunching of bones; so he walks, he leaves his little daughter safe in her den and checks the perimeter like a good soldier. His breath billows up like puffs of smoke, his footsteps are marked by soft crunches—branches rattle, a couple of deer scramble ahead, but besides that there doesn’t seem to be a sound for miles. Tarnished never stops to wonder why; that’s just how it is tonight, that’s just how it’s supposed to be. And he doesn’t mind.
It’s better than screaming.
[It's... bad.]
equus mutatio, immortality, disease manipulation, trait immunity