+- Discovery Gaming Community (https://discoverygc.com/forums)
+-- Forum: Role-Playing (https://discoverygc.com/forums/forumdisplay.php?fid=9)
+--- Forum: Stories and Biographies (https://discoverygc.com/forums/forumdisplay.php?fid=56)
+--- Thread: What Men May Do, What We May See (/showthread.php?tid=38392)
What Men May Do, What We May See - Silver.2 - 04-16-2010
In the gloomy dark of space, one may find many secrets. He knew this well. He knew that there would always be things no-one could ever see. Things not meant to be revealed, not ever. The vacuum just swept it away from their eyes, leaving it frail as a snowflake.
So easy it was, to simply add another secret to the dark. So easy to simply conceal it. And so, he did. For his resolve, he fashioned his hatred into form.
"Jack!" She said, with a warm smile. "Come look, by the flowers! See what I found..." She darted off, past the meadows, his footsteps behind her.
"Crux..." The woman strode in, looking at the man's form with a quiet calm about her. "...I see it continues, then. I see you haven't considered my thought." He sighed, turning to her. "No, Gladyss, I haven't. And I won't." She was taken aback by it, but then composed herself, quietly sitting by in a sliding chair. Their eyes were affixed to the room in front of her.
He came upon a small pond, not 20 feet across. Various little fish darted about in it's shallow water, a dim light shining off of their scales. He smiled at the sight - it was beautiful, in it's utter natural form. His sister dipped a stick in the water, casting shimmering ripples across the still water.
It was his end, and his beginning. His Alpha and Omega. What may be his tomb, yet also his final savior. He sighed once more as another piece fell into place, bonded together and left to be one and it's own. Left...to be a single creation.
He sat by her, gazing at the fish, their images distorted by the cascading ripples. "Cynthia," He said "it's so wonderful. How did you find this?" She smiled again, instantly spreading the gesture to himself. "Luck..." she said, with a slight chuckle "Just me, wandering." They both chuckled.
It was almost depressing, seeing it come together, piece by piece. It was as though each signified a loss, from his past. All of it coming together, to become the manifestation of his existence. Or perhaps...a new one.
The lights shined brightly on the white tile, furnishing the inside of the lobby. She sat waiting, amongst the vagrants, the thugs, the poor. The attendant was clicking off names now and again, calling them up. "Cynthia Selkner." The woman said. She stood up, her knees shaking slightly.
He flipped open the locket around his neck, studying the pictures. One was of a young girl, a stylized lettering stating "Cynthia" above, and "Sister" below. The next appeared to be Crux himself - or, whatever he was, before - with the word "Brother" printed below. The Name was illegible; seemingly scratched away.
the woman looked her over, checking the picture on her clipboard. "So...wife?" Cynthia shook her head "Sister, Ma'am. May I please, please see Jack, now?" The woman scoffed. "Oh, you won't be seeing him, 'ol girl, not for a long time."
He could feel the sting of tears behind his eyes, yet didn't let them come out. He didn't know why he mourned for this girl, why her death meant so much to him. But that word - "Sister - burned in his mind, blocking his thoughts whenever he dared to lay idle. Always drawn there. He didn't know how it could possibly do this to him...but it did.
She clutched the letter in her hand, watching as more and more tears stained it's thin script. She didn't want to believe that last line - but there it was, clear as day. She looked one more time:
"Patient Jack Selkner died during intensive surgical treatment, in an attempt to alleviate his mental ailments. Funeral services will be held if and when the required autopsy is completed."
The javelin was just then affixed - a long, slender blade, conical, beautiful. The glint reflected in his eyes, as the mechanical arm progressed with it's task.
She was still holding the letter as she boarded the transport. Such a hulking thing - massive, carrying almost a hundred passengers aboard. With a few steps, she added herself to those hundred, choosing a seat looking out into space.
He sat down, running his hands ever so lightly along the console panel. The glass provided an image of the buttons, switches, and wires, their image cast onto it's thin plane. It looked as though a dance, a parallel.
The starscape seemed so small from her view. So beautiful, the image only marred by the reflection of people in the window, along with her own, tear-streaked face. It was like they were actors, amongst that starscape, playing out a silent, unending play.
The robotic arms pulled away, revealing the parts to his ending. The helmet stared back at him, as if intent on what was to come. He pulled the locket of his neck, grasping a rivet gun in his other hand. His eyes drifted towards a cavity on the plating, with a small plate lying near it. That was where it shall lie.
A klaxon suddenly sounded, sending the passengers into a panic. Men were rushing past, trying to get into the escape pods, towards the back. It was a wall of people, rolling over such a small, narrow path. She couldn't move...she couldn't get out...
The locket was placed inside, the plate pulled up in front.
She saw a few men fall, blood flowing from them. The crowd pulled back, to reveal a dark, soulless figure.
As he pulled up the gun, tears flowed forward. He could no longer stop them.
As she seized up with fear, he saw his eyes look towards her, his blade drawn up.
One rivet...two...
It drew closer...
Three
Closer...
He clenched his teeth, the last bump from the gun signifying the final piece was put into place. His last memory, entombed forever in his creation. A creation which would, in the end, become his shield. And his tomb.
She drew a last breath as the blade dug into her neck, smothering her scream. As she fell to the ground, she felt the locket fall to her side. As it opened, she saw Jack's face, the name she had dashed so angrily. As her vision clouded, she began to cry, once more. It was really, truly, the end.
What Men May Do, What We May See - Silver.2 - 04-16-2010
Who could be blamed, as to what had happened? Many, reasoned Crux. Those who had twisted him, those who had changed him. Killers, sinners, gluttons, beurocrats...so many. But, what did it really matter?
A small salvage ship floated among the wreckage, sifting through this cold, metal tomb. It would would need to be pulled away, in any case. As an arm bounced off a panel, something shimmered
All that could be blamed was his persistence. The very fact that he's clung onto himself all of this time. That his spirit has not been broken. As he turned away from the metal form, he glanced to the woman. She let out a sigh.
He simply found it on his doorstep - figuratively. It was an anonymous package, no return adress, or lcation. Just the locket, some kind of report, and a letter.
"You've already given up what may remain of your humanity, Crux" She said, as he passed back into the room. "You've already given enough. But what is this? Some kind of solace?" He clenched his teeth. "No, Crux, that is simply an illusion. A vessel to comprehend something that you can no longer see." With that she walked out of the room.
The letter was simple, short...
"Maybe this will help"
-An old friend