Snek
Boop the snoot, you get the shoot
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Futuristic The Predestiny Query
- Thread starter Snek
- Start date
Snek
Boop the snoot, you get the shoot
Chapter 0: Breaking and Entering
"It was the weirdest thing, really.
You were just walking down the sidewalk, heading somewhere important, but a strange thing caught your eye...
A multicolored, neon butterfly.
Not just any ordinary butterfly with patterns, or even having semblance to being from Earth. No, this thing was flashing and pulsating with color, as if its patience for each new color expired after the first millisecond. Normally, such a sight would probably either hurt ones eyes, induce seizures, or perhaps both. But your eyes don't hurt. And you don't have epilepsy that you know of. So instead you gaze at the butterfly as it flutters about, its wings beating at the air as it feebly attempts to communicate to you.
But of course, you don't speak butterfly, and never have, so you opt to continue your slack-jawed ogling at the strange insect, completely forgetting whatever silly, insignificant thing it was that you were on your way to do.
The insect begins to make its departure, and you find yourself following it off the sidewalk and into the nearby woods that fringe the street. Why you would ever chase a butterfly in your right mind, you have absolutely no clue, but hell, that's what you're doing, and you suppose you might as well go through with it now that you've got yourself stumbling through foliage and branches, trying to keep up with a psychedelic butterfly.
It leads you into a grove.
Odd. You've been through these woods as a kid, but you never noticed something obvious like a grove with a large pond in the middle of it. The butterfly seems to be heading for a strange door across the pond from you. Looks like this is the end of the line. There's no way to go around the edge of the pond, and the door seems to be at the end of a tunnel that extends out across the water. What kind of an idiot put that there, you think, being unable to access such an entrance, but, although you do not know, that is exactly why it was put there. But the door beckons, offering excitement and mystery and that freaking butterfly.
So you opt to perhaps wade across the pond to the door, and hope that it isn't too deep. But when your foot comes down to plunge into the water, it instead meet the pond as a solid surface.
You certainly did not see this coming.
You decide that this is probably a dream, and has been since you saw that butterfly, and so you don't hesitate or question anything as you stroll across the pond's surface and approach the strange, transparent door that seems to invite you. Beyond the glass pane of the door, there is only a tunnel with beige wallpaper and wood-panel flooring that leads into darkness. Oh, right, and the butterfly. You're not sure how you forgot about him. You arbitrarily decide the butterfly is male. Whatever the case, it is fluttering around in the tunnel, enticing you to no end.
You would certainly enter, if only there was a doorknob. Or a handle. Or a door at all. Upon closer inspection, the supposed "door" is actually just a pane of glass, like a window. Your desire to catch that goddamned butterfly and your hesitation to break glass (that probably leads somewhere bad anyways) clash, and, as was destined, the butterfly proved too much of a temptation to resist. You plunge your foot into the window as hard as you can muster. It shatters without much fanfare (or noise, strangely), and you walk down the corridor after the fluorescent insect.
You walk for a while. Longer than you expected, for sure. After about ten minutes you enter darkness, and you walk in darkness (save for the eye-searing light of the butterfly) for another half an hour before you see anything interesting.
You exit the tunnel into a room.
It's a very cozy looking room. It has all white furniture, simplistic and neatly organized about the room. There are a few sofas arranged around a small coffee table. Arranged on the table are some boxes that appear to be some kind of board games, but they have names you've never heard of. There are a few other coffee tables, set with small bowls that are filled with various unrecognizable types of candy. Two of the four walls are transparent, and look out onto an unbelievable view...
The entire Universe. Well, at least what you imagine it looks like. You are partially correct, but you are not aware that this view is actually much more broad. Gazing out into the cosmos, you begin to contemplate your own existence. Why are you here? Where did the butterfly go? What is this place? What did you eat to have this dream? Where can you get more of it?
In the opposite corner of the room, there sits a pedestal next to a very large, luxurious-looking chair. On the pedestal lies an open book, and the letters on its pages glow a soft green. You slowly come to realize that you are reading a book that details exactly what you had done from the moment you were walking down that sidewalk and saw the butterfly, complete with color images of the grove, the room you are now in, and others. Every sentence speaks directly to you, as if the owner knew you would be reading it, which, naturally, he did with 100% accuracy. Reading the book makes you slightly angry. How can a book tell you what to do? You won't let a silly book tell you what you're about to do! But of course you come to the realization that it's not telling you what to do, it's dictating what you will do. Upon reaching this sentence, you are also realizing that the book has been self-referencing quite a bit, and that makes you a bit lightheaded and confused. You read over the entire text one more time, and then collapse into the chair out of mental exhaustion.
You believe you have seen it all, now. But that, of course, is the precise moment when you stop reading, look up, and notice me."
~
Why hello, visitor. I was expecting you. I don't get visitors often, sadly, but when I do, it is often quite enjoyable, because they are usually here to play a game with me for their soul. Yes, we play those games on the table. They are indeed very fun, but can be tricky to learn.
Would you care for some candy? Help yourself to as much as you like from those bowls on the tables there. I always keep such delights stocked in case I ever have visitors, because I am an excellent host. Perhaps you would like a warm drink? Or a cold one? I have any drink you could ever want, whether it be hot or cold, alcoholic or not, bubbly or smooth, real or completely from your imagination.
No? Suit yourself. Why are you here? I suppose that's like asking why does your Earth sun come up, or why does your Earth rain fall? It was simply meant to happen, and couldn't possibly have been stopped. Ah, yes, I sent my assistant, the butterfly, to fetch you. His name is Andromeda, but I suppose that is a bit long for you to say every time you want to say it, so if you like, you may refer to him as Andrew the Butterfly.
Well, where is a bit of a restrictive way of wording your question. In here, we are separated from the usual continuity of spacetime. That way I am free to watch over all of reality. This is my job; I am the Vigil of the Multiverse. I keep things in line and make sure nothing goes wrong, at least not too wrong. Things are destined to go wrong, and in some universes, meant to, but nothing must ever damage the whole.
Speaking of which, I must apologize for the appalling gouge in my suit. It is unbecoming of such a host, but there was unfortunately little I could do. If you peruse the spectacular view from those walls over there, you might see a similar gash. My dapper suit is made from the finest fabric of spacetime there is. Although, regrettably, I am not a tailor, and so I employed some assistance in fixing the rip and sewing it up.
You see, I am not only an experienced Vigil, a talented board game virtuoso, master strategist, knower of Past, Future, and Everything In-Between, and an accomplished painter, but I am also a proud father of eight. My children are currently off fixing spacetime for me, and have been for some time, but they will return shortly. They are loyal children, and would never dream of being late for supper, especially when I am cooking. Would you like to hear their story? They are truly remarkable individuals, and I believe you will find their adventures so far to be quite engaging. That is why you are here, is it not? To find excitement? To listen to a good story in peace and humor a fabulous host? Of course it is. Because that is what the book says, and the book is never, ever wrong.
Go on, flip to page one. The book will dictate everything in words, and I will follow suit vocally. It is always helpful to hear a story and see it in front of you as well, I find.
Hm? No, you can hold the book. I already know every word and letter, always have and always will, technically speaking. No, you can hold it and I will recite its words. Don't worry, despite its impressive mass, the tome is actually quite light in terms of weight.
Yes, you may sit in the big chair. For I am a good host, as you certainly know, and I always give my guests the best seats. After all, what is a good story without a comfortable place to read it in?
Ahem...now, let's see. We will start, I believe, at the beginning...
~
I look out into the vast Multiverse, perusing the damage.
"Unsettling, I must say..." I mutter to myself, fully aware that my power alone is not enough to fix this wound. I have known this was going to happen, and I have also known that my solution would be inevitable. I would need some help.
Paintings from my less-experienced parts of my painting career pass me by as I stroll through my house to a room I have never used, and would never use again after the first time. I pass by my kitchen, my study, the garage, and the nine bedrooms of my house, until I finally arrive in the chamber. It is dark, and so I switch on the light. There is no dust or impurities on anything, because my house is always as clean as one of your metaphorical human whistles. The only things in the room are the bucket of Void that I will need for the molding, the panel on the floor to accommodate the weight of their singularity-esque mass once they are molded, and the table with all of their Artifacts on it.
I close the door, although it is unnecessary, I do it arbitrarily to set myself in the working mood. This will take me many eons, at least eight, and an open door will only tempt me to leave before the job is done.
I reach into the bucket, full to the brim with Void, and pull out a handful. Some drips onto the floor and onto my suit. This is fine, the stuff is fairly easy to clean out. I brush the breast of my suit and wick away some of the stray Void, and I place the clump in my hand onto the panel. It heaves under the weight of all that Nothing, but it holds. I knew it would, but thank goodness anyways. I manipulate the clump of Void from a safe distance, shaping and manipulating, demanding and gently suggesting, pulverizing it and caressing it, until it's reached the desired shape, and then I release the potential energy with a flick of the wrist.
The room becomes bright enough to blind the Multiverse (good thing I had the door closed, eh?), and then out of that clump of Nothing comes a great deal of Something. I mold that Something with masterful dexterity, and after not too long, my first child stands in front of me.
She is female, and for whatever reason, her form, upon creation, seemed to silently insist that it be clad in blue. Peculiar, but there is little else about her that is not straightforward. Her hair is white, and somewhat shorter to keep it out of her eyes and out of her way. She will grow to be quite the busybee, as you humans say, and will take kindly to powerful authority. She will not understand the seemingly pointless and time-wasting mental faculties and habits of some of her brothers and sisters, but she will come to recognize them as useful allies.
She stands at attention off by the side of the room, where she is not in my way, and awaits instruction. I wish all of my children were that obedient.
I repeat the process a second time.
My second child, and first son, is a leader at heart. He is quick-witted, and will have one of your human silver tongues, as you say. He prefers not to get his hands dirty, unlike his older sister, but he can, and gladly will, employ others to act in his stead. Charisma and charm are a natural part of who he is, though none of the children will know who they are until they receive their Artifacts. Sometimes he will get selfish and will attempt to manipulate others for his own gain, but time will teach him that people do not often take kindly to being used as puppets.
He approaches me, and attempts to bargain with me for input in the creation of his remaining siblings. Amusing, but I send him to stand by his sister. He does so grudgingly, and almost immediately begins engaging in a second bargaining session with his sister. I wish all of my children were that clever.
I repeat the process a third time.
The third child, following the pattern, is female. Most of the Something that made up her form during her creation went to her mind, and so her mind is the most developed and powerful aspect of her being. She is very curious about the world around her, and strives to learn. She will actively search for the truth herself, showing proficiency in problem-solving and deductive reasoning. Sating her hunger for knowledge will be difficult as she grows, and nothing will escape the scope of her mental capacity. She will sometimes get ahead of herself in her excitement for finding the answers, but she will learn that true knowledge only comes with patience and dedication.
She watches me closely as I prepare her next brother for creation, and asks me what the bucket is full of, when did I obtain it, and what is it made of. I smile and send her over to her siblings, but from where she stands, she continues to watch me work with a contemplative gaze. I wish all of my children were that curious.
I (finish) repeating the process a fourth time.
The fourth child, a male of course, is much like his sister, the third. He is curious, but instead of material facts and knowledge, instead he seeks skills and trades. He can easily ascertain how things work, and will find new ways to make those things work more efficiently. He, as you humans say, rolls with the punches, and can adapt himself to new situations. He is a very fast learner. Although sometimes my fourth child will often be perturbed by the flaws and disorder he perceives among his siblings, he will eventually realize that chaos is a necessary (and inevitable) part of order.
He watches me closely as I prepare the fifth child, and as I begin to mold, he tugs my sleeve and politely asks to assist in the creation process. He claims that he watched me very closely and is sure that he can recreate the process. Considering that he asked politely, unlike his older brother, and that his talents are more suited to the task, I offer to let him assist me in the manipulation after I place the Void on the panel. He excitedly accepts. I knew fully well that his "assistance" would wind up tampering with the boy/girl pattern, resulting in a boy instead of a girl, as well as a flaw in the sibling's creation, and I knew that even if I had done it myself, paradox space would have assured that the boy came out incomplete as intended.
My fourth child frowns when he notices his flawed technique and incomplete sibling. He trudges sadly over by his older brothers and sisters, and elects to watch me in order to perfect his technique, standing shoulder to shoulder with the third child as they both study me. I wish all of my children were that productive.
I turn my attention to my fifth child.
My fifth child is warm-hearted, and cares deeply for the feelings and healthiness of his siblings and almost anyone around him. He will do his best to help his siblings, and will know in his heart the best way to complement their strengths and weaknesses in order to lift them up, figuratively speaking. He will only act in violence to protect his loved ones. He may sometimes be blinded by his optimism, and may misplace his trust, but it wouldn't be long before he figured out that people's actions revealed their intentions better than their words.
Unfortunately, as mentioned, he is physically incomplete. His left arm is missing completely. Fortunately, I came prepared with a solution. Thrusting my arm into the Void once more, I quickly fashion for him a functional artificial arm and secure it in place on his left shoulder. He tests the arm out, smiles, and gives me a passionate embrace, thanking me. I smile and politely direct him towards his brothers and sisters.
He notices my second child, the clever one, bargaining with the obedient one, and the fifth child comes to his sister's defense, scolding his older brother's conniving ways. I wish all of my children were that loyal.
I repeat the process a sixth time.
The resulting flash is nearly thrice as bright as those of her previous five siblings. Good heavens.
My sixth child is eager to please, and is joyous and...well, bright, to say the least. The boy/girl pattern seems to reinstate itself, as she is a girl. She likes to help people, like her brother the fifth, but her methods are much different. Instead of helping with words, she helps instead with actions. She sings and dances and puts on a show, and brings happiness to everyone around her. But, even though she will initially be scared to fail, she will find that mistakes are lessons, not defeats; every faulty step in the spotlight is followed by one of twofold beauty.
She notices her siblings looking at her, giggles, and does a little dance for their amusement. Most of her siblings smile and clap, but my fourth child protests that her dance is distracting him from watching my procedure. She does a little bow and joins them over on the side of the room. I wish all of my children were that cheerful.
I repeat the process a seventh time.
I molded my seventh child with a slightly larger clump of Void than the others, and as a result, he feels a deeper connection to the multiverse around him. He is deep, complex, and trusts his intuition to lead him down the right path. He is prone to asking questions, like his sister the third, but instead of asking What and When, he asks Why and How. The seventh is quite the dreamer, and has profound aspirations to be the best he can be, to reach the limits of his potential. Despite his overwhelming desire to resist being tied down and held back, the universe will reveal that freedom always comes at a price.
He looks around the room, and fixates his attention on the ceiling, instantly deciding that, as his first achievement, he will climb the wall and touch the upper limits of the room. He attempts to scramble up the wall, without much success, until his sister the third averts her attention from me to her brother's antics. She makes a comment about the futility of such an attempt, and my seventh child vows that one day he will touch that ceiling if it kills him. I wish all of my children were that ambitious.
I repeat the molding for an eighth and final time, and, weary from eons of effort, I sit on the floor and admire my youngest child.
She is insightful and creative, and has a deep appreciation for the beauty of the world around her. She is somewhat impartial to violence, and is completely content to sit and imagine pictures in her head, admire her environment, or just plain relax. She likes to assert her individuality, much like her ambitious brother the seventh, and will often deviate from her siblings' tendencies and do things her own way. Her creative talents are best applied through art, like my painting, which she found an appreciation for from her first few moments of life.
My eighth child notices Andrew the Butterfly fluttering into the room, and she smiles and follows him around. The two are already good friends. The eighth child sure seems to have a fascination to creatures of flight. She notices the bucket of Void and spends a good while staring into it at the nothing, evidently mesmerized by its beauty. I give her permission to draw pictures with it, if she so desires, and her face brightens and she carries the bucket over to the far wall, where she begins to draw basic sketches of her siblings on the wall, dipping her fingers in Void every so often to replenish the volume of her strokes. The portrait of my seventh child is noticeably more detailed and elegant than the rest, and my first child scoffs at the silly drawing. My eighth child pouts and draws various humorous additions to the portrait of my first child. I wish all of my children were that creative.
And, with my task completed, all that was left was to give them their artifacts and send them on their journey.
~
Eh? Ah, yes, you want me to use a different point of view. You wish to know what the children are thinking, because after all, the story would be more interesting if we got their points of view, correct? Very well. I suppose I can accommodate. We left off in the...in the creation room, that's right...I'm sure I can imitate their voices well enough to make this point of view convincing enough.
*Ahem* Here goes...
~
"It was the weirdest thing, really.
You were just walking down the sidewalk, heading somewhere important, but a strange thing caught your eye...
A multicolored, neon butterfly.
Not just any ordinary butterfly with patterns, or even having semblance to being from Earth. No, this thing was flashing and pulsating with color, as if its patience for each new color expired after the first millisecond. Normally, such a sight would probably either hurt ones eyes, induce seizures, or perhaps both. But your eyes don't hurt. And you don't have epilepsy that you know of. So instead you gaze at the butterfly as it flutters about, its wings beating at the air as it feebly attempts to communicate to you.
But of course, you don't speak butterfly, and never have, so you opt to continue your slack-jawed ogling at the strange insect, completely forgetting whatever silly, insignificant thing it was that you were on your way to do.
The insect begins to make its departure, and you find yourself following it off the sidewalk and into the nearby woods that fringe the street. Why you would ever chase a butterfly in your right mind, you have absolutely no clue, but hell, that's what you're doing, and you suppose you might as well go through with it now that you've got yourself stumbling through foliage and branches, trying to keep up with a psychedelic butterfly.
It leads you into a grove.
Odd. You've been through these woods as a kid, but you never noticed something obvious like a grove with a large pond in the middle of it. The butterfly seems to be heading for a strange door across the pond from you. Looks like this is the end of the line. There's no way to go around the edge of the pond, and the door seems to be at the end of a tunnel that extends out across the water. What kind of an idiot put that there, you think, being unable to access such an entrance, but, although you do not know, that is exactly why it was put there. But the door beckons, offering excitement and mystery and that freaking butterfly.
So you opt to perhaps wade across the pond to the door, and hope that it isn't too deep. But when your foot comes down to plunge into the water, it instead meet the pond as a solid surface.
You certainly did not see this coming.
You decide that this is probably a dream, and has been since you saw that butterfly, and so you don't hesitate or question anything as you stroll across the pond's surface and approach the strange, transparent door that seems to invite you. Beyond the glass pane of the door, there is only a tunnel with beige wallpaper and wood-panel flooring that leads into darkness. Oh, right, and the butterfly. You're not sure how you forgot about him. You arbitrarily decide the butterfly is male. Whatever the case, it is fluttering around in the tunnel, enticing you to no end.
You would certainly enter, if only there was a doorknob. Or a handle. Or a door at all. Upon closer inspection, the supposed "door" is actually just a pane of glass, like a window. Your desire to catch that goddamned butterfly and your hesitation to break glass (that probably leads somewhere bad anyways) clash, and, as was destined, the butterfly proved too much of a temptation to resist. You plunge your foot into the window as hard as you can muster. It shatters without much fanfare (or noise, strangely), and you walk down the corridor after the fluorescent insect.
You walk for a while. Longer than you expected, for sure. After about ten minutes you enter darkness, and you walk in darkness (save for the eye-searing light of the butterfly) for another half an hour before you see anything interesting.
You exit the tunnel into a room.
It's a very cozy looking room. It has all white furniture, simplistic and neatly organized about the room. There are a few sofas arranged around a small coffee table. Arranged on the table are some boxes that appear to be some kind of board games, but they have names you've never heard of. There are a few other coffee tables, set with small bowls that are filled with various unrecognizable types of candy. Two of the four walls are transparent, and look out onto an unbelievable view...
The entire Universe. Well, at least what you imagine it looks like. You are partially correct, but you are not aware that this view is actually much more broad. Gazing out into the cosmos, you begin to contemplate your own existence. Why are you here? Where did the butterfly go? What is this place? What did you eat to have this dream? Where can you get more of it?
In the opposite corner of the room, there sits a pedestal next to a very large, luxurious-looking chair. On the pedestal lies an open book, and the letters on its pages glow a soft green. You slowly come to realize that you are reading a book that details exactly what you had done from the moment you were walking down that sidewalk and saw the butterfly, complete with color images of the grove, the room you are now in, and others. Every sentence speaks directly to you, as if the owner knew you would be reading it, which, naturally, he did with 100% accuracy. Reading the book makes you slightly angry. How can a book tell you what to do? You won't let a silly book tell you what you're about to do! But of course you come to the realization that it's not telling you what to do, it's dictating what you will do. Upon reaching this sentence, you are also realizing that the book has been self-referencing quite a bit, and that makes you a bit lightheaded and confused. You read over the entire text one more time, and then collapse into the chair out of mental exhaustion.
You believe you have seen it all, now. But that, of course, is the precise moment when you stop reading, look up, and notice me."
~
Why hello, visitor. I was expecting you. I don't get visitors often, sadly, but when I do, it is often quite enjoyable, because they are usually here to play a game with me for their soul. Yes, we play those games on the table. They are indeed very fun, but can be tricky to learn.
Would you care for some candy? Help yourself to as much as you like from those bowls on the tables there. I always keep such delights stocked in case I ever have visitors, because I am an excellent host. Perhaps you would like a warm drink? Or a cold one? I have any drink you could ever want, whether it be hot or cold, alcoholic or not, bubbly or smooth, real or completely from your imagination.
No? Suit yourself. Why are you here? I suppose that's like asking why does your Earth sun come up, or why does your Earth rain fall? It was simply meant to happen, and couldn't possibly have been stopped. Ah, yes, I sent my assistant, the butterfly, to fetch you. His name is Andromeda, but I suppose that is a bit long for you to say every time you want to say it, so if you like, you may refer to him as Andrew the Butterfly.
Well, where is a bit of a restrictive way of wording your question. In here, we are separated from the usual continuity of spacetime. That way I am free to watch over all of reality. This is my job; I am the Vigil of the Multiverse. I keep things in line and make sure nothing goes wrong, at least not too wrong. Things are destined to go wrong, and in some universes, meant to, but nothing must ever damage the whole.
Speaking of which, I must apologize for the appalling gouge in my suit. It is unbecoming of such a host, but there was unfortunately little I could do. If you peruse the spectacular view from those walls over there, you might see a similar gash. My dapper suit is made from the finest fabric of spacetime there is. Although, regrettably, I am not a tailor, and so I employed some assistance in fixing the rip and sewing it up.
You see, I am not only an experienced Vigil, a talented board game virtuoso, master strategist, knower of Past, Future, and Everything In-Between, and an accomplished painter, but I am also a proud father of eight. My children are currently off fixing spacetime for me, and have been for some time, but they will return shortly. They are loyal children, and would never dream of being late for supper, especially when I am cooking. Would you like to hear their story? They are truly remarkable individuals, and I believe you will find their adventures so far to be quite engaging. That is why you are here, is it not? To find excitement? To listen to a good story in peace and humor a fabulous host? Of course it is. Because that is what the book says, and the book is never, ever wrong.
Go on, flip to page one. The book will dictate everything in words, and I will follow suit vocally. It is always helpful to hear a story and see it in front of you as well, I find.
Hm? No, you can hold the book. I already know every word and letter, always have and always will, technically speaking. No, you can hold it and I will recite its words. Don't worry, despite its impressive mass, the tome is actually quite light in terms of weight.
Yes, you may sit in the big chair. For I am a good host, as you certainly know, and I always give my guests the best seats. After all, what is a good story without a comfortable place to read it in?
Ahem...now, let's see. We will start, I believe, at the beginning...
~
I look out into the vast Multiverse, perusing the damage.
"Unsettling, I must say..." I mutter to myself, fully aware that my power alone is not enough to fix this wound. I have known this was going to happen, and I have also known that my solution would be inevitable. I would need some help.
Paintings from my less-experienced parts of my painting career pass me by as I stroll through my house to a room I have never used, and would never use again after the first time. I pass by my kitchen, my study, the garage, and the nine bedrooms of my house, until I finally arrive in the chamber. It is dark, and so I switch on the light. There is no dust or impurities on anything, because my house is always as clean as one of your metaphorical human whistles. The only things in the room are the bucket of Void that I will need for the molding, the panel on the floor to accommodate the weight of their singularity-esque mass once they are molded, and the table with all of their Artifacts on it.
I close the door, although it is unnecessary, I do it arbitrarily to set myself in the working mood. This will take me many eons, at least eight, and an open door will only tempt me to leave before the job is done.
I reach into the bucket, full to the brim with Void, and pull out a handful. Some drips onto the floor and onto my suit. This is fine, the stuff is fairly easy to clean out. I brush the breast of my suit and wick away some of the stray Void, and I place the clump in my hand onto the panel. It heaves under the weight of all that Nothing, but it holds. I knew it would, but thank goodness anyways. I manipulate the clump of Void from a safe distance, shaping and manipulating, demanding and gently suggesting, pulverizing it and caressing it, until it's reached the desired shape, and then I release the potential energy with a flick of the wrist.
The room becomes bright enough to blind the Multiverse (good thing I had the door closed, eh?), and then out of that clump of Nothing comes a great deal of Something. I mold that Something with masterful dexterity, and after not too long, my first child stands in front of me.
She is female, and for whatever reason, her form, upon creation, seemed to silently insist that it be clad in blue. Peculiar, but there is little else about her that is not straightforward. Her hair is white, and somewhat shorter to keep it out of her eyes and out of her way. She will grow to be quite the busybee, as you humans say, and will take kindly to powerful authority. She will not understand the seemingly pointless and time-wasting mental faculties and habits of some of her brothers and sisters, but she will come to recognize them as useful allies.
She stands at attention off by the side of the room, where she is not in my way, and awaits instruction. I wish all of my children were that obedient.
I repeat the process a second time.
My second child, and first son, is a leader at heart. He is quick-witted, and will have one of your human silver tongues, as you say. He prefers not to get his hands dirty, unlike his older sister, but he can, and gladly will, employ others to act in his stead. Charisma and charm are a natural part of who he is, though none of the children will know who they are until they receive their Artifacts. Sometimes he will get selfish and will attempt to manipulate others for his own gain, but time will teach him that people do not often take kindly to being used as puppets.
He approaches me, and attempts to bargain with me for input in the creation of his remaining siblings. Amusing, but I send him to stand by his sister. He does so grudgingly, and almost immediately begins engaging in a second bargaining session with his sister. I wish all of my children were that clever.
I repeat the process a third time.
The third child, following the pattern, is female. Most of the Something that made up her form during her creation went to her mind, and so her mind is the most developed and powerful aspect of her being. She is very curious about the world around her, and strives to learn. She will actively search for the truth herself, showing proficiency in problem-solving and deductive reasoning. Sating her hunger for knowledge will be difficult as she grows, and nothing will escape the scope of her mental capacity. She will sometimes get ahead of herself in her excitement for finding the answers, but she will learn that true knowledge only comes with patience and dedication.
She watches me closely as I prepare her next brother for creation, and asks me what the bucket is full of, when did I obtain it, and what is it made of. I smile and send her over to her siblings, but from where she stands, she continues to watch me work with a contemplative gaze. I wish all of my children were that curious.
I (finish) repeating the process a fourth time.
The fourth child, a male of course, is much like his sister, the third. He is curious, but instead of material facts and knowledge, instead he seeks skills and trades. He can easily ascertain how things work, and will find new ways to make those things work more efficiently. He, as you humans say, rolls with the punches, and can adapt himself to new situations. He is a very fast learner. Although sometimes my fourth child will often be perturbed by the flaws and disorder he perceives among his siblings, he will eventually realize that chaos is a necessary (and inevitable) part of order.
He watches me closely as I prepare the fifth child, and as I begin to mold, he tugs my sleeve and politely asks to assist in the creation process. He claims that he watched me very closely and is sure that he can recreate the process. Considering that he asked politely, unlike his older brother, and that his talents are more suited to the task, I offer to let him assist me in the manipulation after I place the Void on the panel. He excitedly accepts. I knew fully well that his "assistance" would wind up tampering with the boy/girl pattern, resulting in a boy instead of a girl, as well as a flaw in the sibling's creation, and I knew that even if I had done it myself, paradox space would have assured that the boy came out incomplete as intended.
My fourth child frowns when he notices his flawed technique and incomplete sibling. He trudges sadly over by his older brothers and sisters, and elects to watch me in order to perfect his technique, standing shoulder to shoulder with the third child as they both study me. I wish all of my children were that productive.
I turn my attention to my fifth child.
My fifth child is warm-hearted, and cares deeply for the feelings and healthiness of his siblings and almost anyone around him. He will do his best to help his siblings, and will know in his heart the best way to complement their strengths and weaknesses in order to lift them up, figuratively speaking. He will only act in violence to protect his loved ones. He may sometimes be blinded by his optimism, and may misplace his trust, but it wouldn't be long before he figured out that people's actions revealed their intentions better than their words.
Unfortunately, as mentioned, he is physically incomplete. His left arm is missing completely. Fortunately, I came prepared with a solution. Thrusting my arm into the Void once more, I quickly fashion for him a functional artificial arm and secure it in place on his left shoulder. He tests the arm out, smiles, and gives me a passionate embrace, thanking me. I smile and politely direct him towards his brothers and sisters.
He notices my second child, the clever one, bargaining with the obedient one, and the fifth child comes to his sister's defense, scolding his older brother's conniving ways. I wish all of my children were that loyal.
I repeat the process a sixth time.
The resulting flash is nearly thrice as bright as those of her previous five siblings. Good heavens.
My sixth child is eager to please, and is joyous and...well, bright, to say the least. The boy/girl pattern seems to reinstate itself, as she is a girl. She likes to help people, like her brother the fifth, but her methods are much different. Instead of helping with words, she helps instead with actions. She sings and dances and puts on a show, and brings happiness to everyone around her. But, even though she will initially be scared to fail, she will find that mistakes are lessons, not defeats; every faulty step in the spotlight is followed by one of twofold beauty.
She notices her siblings looking at her, giggles, and does a little dance for their amusement. Most of her siblings smile and clap, but my fourth child protests that her dance is distracting him from watching my procedure. She does a little bow and joins them over on the side of the room. I wish all of my children were that cheerful.
I repeat the process a seventh time.
I molded my seventh child with a slightly larger clump of Void than the others, and as a result, he feels a deeper connection to the multiverse around him. He is deep, complex, and trusts his intuition to lead him down the right path. He is prone to asking questions, like his sister the third, but instead of asking What and When, he asks Why and How. The seventh is quite the dreamer, and has profound aspirations to be the best he can be, to reach the limits of his potential. Despite his overwhelming desire to resist being tied down and held back, the universe will reveal that freedom always comes at a price.
He looks around the room, and fixates his attention on the ceiling, instantly deciding that, as his first achievement, he will climb the wall and touch the upper limits of the room. He attempts to scramble up the wall, without much success, until his sister the third averts her attention from me to her brother's antics. She makes a comment about the futility of such an attempt, and my seventh child vows that one day he will touch that ceiling if it kills him. I wish all of my children were that ambitious.
I repeat the molding for an eighth and final time, and, weary from eons of effort, I sit on the floor and admire my youngest child.
She is insightful and creative, and has a deep appreciation for the beauty of the world around her. She is somewhat impartial to violence, and is completely content to sit and imagine pictures in her head, admire her environment, or just plain relax. She likes to assert her individuality, much like her ambitious brother the seventh, and will often deviate from her siblings' tendencies and do things her own way. Her creative talents are best applied through art, like my painting, which she found an appreciation for from her first few moments of life.
My eighth child notices Andrew the Butterfly fluttering into the room, and she smiles and follows him around. The two are already good friends. The eighth child sure seems to have a fascination to creatures of flight. She notices the bucket of Void and spends a good while staring into it at the nothing, evidently mesmerized by its beauty. I give her permission to draw pictures with it, if she so desires, and her face brightens and she carries the bucket over to the far wall, where she begins to draw basic sketches of her siblings on the wall, dipping her fingers in Void every so often to replenish the volume of her strokes. The portrait of my seventh child is noticeably more detailed and elegant than the rest, and my first child scoffs at the silly drawing. My eighth child pouts and draws various humorous additions to the portrait of my first child. I wish all of my children were that creative.
And, with my task completed, all that was left was to give them their artifacts and send them on their journey.
~
Eh? Ah, yes, you want me to use a different point of view. You wish to know what the children are thinking, because after all, the story would be more interesting if we got their points of view, correct? Very well. I suppose I can accommodate. We left off in the...in the creation room, that's right...I'm sure I can imitate their voices well enough to make this point of view convincing enough.
*Ahem* Here goes...
~
Nostradomuas
New Member
"Heh, well I got to say you are pretty good at drawing", says the fifth child; praising his sibling for her excellent skills. He then walks up to her by the wall and has a closer inspection of the funny characters drawn there.
Peaceswore
Hurts too much, I'm done.
The first child rolled her eyes as she watched the eighth paint, purposely adding ridiculous things to the first portrait. Though she found it time wasting the first remained in her spot, and waited. She was rather interested in the conversation the second was having with her. But soon turned her head and faced her father, hoping she would be given something to do.
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Syrrus
Wishful bard
After he was done helping his creator and father he would step back and upon stepping back he couldn't help himself, he tried so very hard not too but he couldn't help himself. He blinked and looked upon the creations around him as if he knew them even if he in fact did not. He frowned then as his eyes fell upon every single one of them, slowly and carefully he would study their appearance and sometimes annoyance would bubble upon inside him but he didn't know why. Something felt off and wrong, it wasn't until his eyes fell upon one of the males that he had to double take and like a reflex too quick for him to notice he stepped backwards as if what he had seen shocked him beyond reason.
"Why do you look so... wrong?!" He couldn't help that the volume of his voice kept chancing either. Even though he knew it was his own fault, he still couldn't help but feel awfully annoyed and insulted. His eyes had fallen upon the male with only one arm. It disturbed and disgusted him on a personal level, almost as if the man's very existence was an insult to him. He had to focus far too hard to be able to look away and as his eyes then fell upon one of the younger females and what she was doing to the wall he almost wanted to pull his hair out. What was going on and why did he feel the way he did?
He would look down upon the ground, try and catch his reflection in the floor. He caught a silhouette, a shadow which moved when he did. He studied it closely. He didn't need to see the detail it wasn't important at this state. His silhouette, his shape looked perfect. He spun around, quickly at first with his arms stretch out, looking at the shadow doing the exact same, following his movement like a puppet. A lovely, perfect and wonderful little puppet. He then decided he had enough courage to look back up at the others, letting his arms fall relaxed against his sides again.
He studied them once more, his eyes instantly skipping his brother with only one arm, doing it on impulse as if trying to protect his mind from the presence of such disfigure. He also skipped to look at the younger girl who was drawing upon the wall, that wasn't by reflex though but because it made his head hurt and it also made him wish he could leap out and scream. He did that skip by own strong will.
"Why do you look so... wrong?!" He couldn't help that the volume of his voice kept chancing either. Even though he knew it was his own fault, he still couldn't help but feel awfully annoyed and insulted. His eyes had fallen upon the male with only one arm. It disturbed and disgusted him on a personal level, almost as if the man's very existence was an insult to him. He had to focus far too hard to be able to look away and as his eyes then fell upon one of the younger females and what she was doing to the wall he almost wanted to pull his hair out. What was going on and why did he feel the way he did?
He would look down upon the ground, try and catch his reflection in the floor. He caught a silhouette, a shadow which moved when he did. He studied it closely. He didn't need to see the detail it wasn't important at this state. His silhouette, his shape looked perfect. He spun around, quickly at first with his arms stretch out, looking at the shadow doing the exact same, following his movement like a puppet. A lovely, perfect and wonderful little puppet. He then decided he had enough courage to look back up at the others, letting his arms fall relaxed against his sides again.
He studied them once more, his eyes instantly skipping his brother with only one arm, doing it on impulse as if trying to protect his mind from the presence of such disfigure. He also skipped to look at the younger girl who was drawing upon the wall, that wasn't by reflex though but because it made his head hurt and it also made him wish he could leap out and scream. He did that skip by own strong will.
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Snek
Boop the snoot, you get the shoot
The seventh child watched in amazement as his badass of a father made a circular, flick-of-the-wrist motion, lifting the eighth child's Void painting off of the wall and creating a rectangular surface to frame it in.
"This belongs in a suitable place for easy viewing. A masterpiece," says the father, snapping his fingers and making the picture vanish. "I have posted it on the refrigerator in the kitchen." The seventh child tugs his father's sleeve.
"Father, can you pick me up? If you lift me high enough, maybe I can reach the ceiling and prove my sister wrong!"
Father shakes his head. "That, you must accomplish on your own. But you will soon find the task easier to achieve than you thought." The Vigil walks away as he approaches the fourth child to scold him for his appalling manners. His brother is not 'wrong', and keep in mind that the imperfection is his fault.
The seventh child decides to approach the eighth. Her painting was pretty good, for a finger-painting made out of Void. He stands by her and looks up at Andrew. "What a fascinating creature. I envy his flight, how free he must feel! He could touch that ceiling anytime he wanted..."
@Varie
"This belongs in a suitable place for easy viewing. A masterpiece," says the father, snapping his fingers and making the picture vanish. "I have posted it on the refrigerator in the kitchen." The seventh child tugs his father's sleeve.
"Father, can you pick me up? If you lift me high enough, maybe I can reach the ceiling and prove my sister wrong!"
Father shakes his head. "That, you must accomplish on your own. But you will soon find the task easier to achieve than you thought." The Vigil walks away as he approaches the fourth child to scold him for his appalling manners. His brother is not 'wrong', and keep in mind that the imperfection is his fault.
The seventh child decides to approach the eighth. Her painting was pretty good, for a finger-painting made out of Void. He stands by her and looks up at Andrew. "What a fascinating creature. I envy his flight, how free he must feel! He could touch that ceiling anytime he wanted..."
@Varie
AcornEye02
The Coolest Cat
The third child studied her brothers and sisters, analyzing their every move. She had already started deducing the ones that are intelligent from the ones that aren't. She found one or two of them completely barbaric in their ways. Why is her sister wasting precious void on painting? And why is our father letting her? She then started to ponder how they came to be, how they were created. She coudn't find any logic in it at all. She then blurted out rather loudly, "Why are we here?!" The other siblings stared at her, she had obiously said that louder than intended but, it got their attention. She then looked right into the eyes of her father.
@The Villian King
@The Villian King
Nostradomuas
New Member
The fifth child looked over at his sister and began to wonder this as well so he walked up to their creator and said, "She does prove a point. Why have you created us?"
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Tictacguy123
Breath of Fresh Air
The second child, the oldest male, continued to try and make deals with his siblings. "I can assist you with reaching the ceiling" he told the seventh. "For a price, of course. No task can be accomplished for free." These deal makings were second nature, despite the protests from the fifth. It wasn't as if he was forcing their hands. They were free to make their own choices naturally. He was only offering them assistance. Convincing assistance, sure, but assistance. The fifth would have to learn to deal with that, one way or another.
"Father, you should have allowed me to work with you on the others. Look at what happened. The boy doesn't have an entire arm because of my younger brother." He crossed his arms and leaned against the wall that the seventh had initially attempted scrambling up. The room was full of unorganized heathens of children. His older sister, the first child, was an exception, and he appreciated that. It was one less person that would aggravate him.
He did have to admit, he was curious as to why he had been brought into being like the others. He turned his attention to his father, waiting for an answer along with the others.
@The Villain King
"Father, you should have allowed me to work with you on the others. Look at what happened. The boy doesn't have an entire arm because of my younger brother." He crossed his arms and leaned against the wall that the seventh had initially attempted scrambling up. The room was full of unorganized heathens of children. His older sister, the first child, was an exception, and he appreciated that. It was one less person that would aggravate him.
He did have to admit, he was curious as to why he had been brought into being like the others. He turned his attention to his father, waiting for an answer along with the others.
@The Villain King
Nico
Care Bears... prepare to stare!
The sixth child bounced on her toes as she watched her siblings mull about. She moved forward when her siblings asked their father. "Maybe he was lonely and wanted us for company!" she chirped. It was a funny thing she said that even though she had no idea what her father was like. She knew he was powerful of sorts but, why where they really there?
Snek
Boop the snoot, you get the shoot
The Vigil chuckles and picks up his jubilant sixth child, putting her on his right shoulder, and then doing the same for his eager seventh child who was desperate to be up somewhere elevated from the ground, putting him on his left shoulder.
"Well, that is true, little one, I was indeed very lonely," the father starts, addressing his sixth child, and then looking at the rest, "but there is a much more important reason. But to understand this reason, first there is something I must give each of you." With the two children still sitting on his shoulder, the Vigil walks over to the table cluttered with seemingly random objects. A hammer. A ring. An intricate crown. An intriguing eyepiece. A rather unsettling censer. A very brightly-colored cloak. A pair of bracers. An intriguing amulet.
"These are your Artifacts, and you must each take one. They will greatly assist you on the journey you will soon take, and each of them is imbued with a Destiny that will define you as an individual, in your mind and in your heart. Along with your Destiny, they will also each provide unique and great powers that help you learn how to fully utilize your strengths, as well as how to deal with your weaknesses."
The Vigil, of course, knew exactly which Artifact they would each take, as it had been etched into spacetime since even his own creation. Predetermined outcomes are quite difficult to avoid, but in this case, there isn't much reason to attempt to avoid one in the first place, especially when it would only cause a doomed timeline.
"Well, that is true, little one, I was indeed very lonely," the father starts, addressing his sixth child, and then looking at the rest, "but there is a much more important reason. But to understand this reason, first there is something I must give each of you." With the two children still sitting on his shoulder, the Vigil walks over to the table cluttered with seemingly random objects. A hammer. A ring. An intricate crown. An intriguing eyepiece. A rather unsettling censer. A very brightly-colored cloak. A pair of bracers. An intriguing amulet.
"These are your Artifacts, and you must each take one. They will greatly assist you on the journey you will soon take, and each of them is imbued with a Destiny that will define you as an individual, in your mind and in your heart. Along with your Destiny, they will also each provide unique and great powers that help you learn how to fully utilize your strengths, as well as how to deal with your weaknesses."
The Vigil, of course, knew exactly which Artifact they would each take, as it had been etched into spacetime since even his own creation. Predetermined outcomes are quite difficult to avoid, but in this case, there isn't much reason to attempt to avoid one in the first place, especially when it would only cause a doomed timeline.
Varie
New Member
The eighth child had a hard time coming down from her wide-eyed state of awe at the immediate environment around her. After taking some time to absorb her surroundings, she found herself fixated on a small and colorful moving object. It seemed to shake and that shaking allowed it to move about. It was a bit confusing to her, but she ignored the logic behind it and took to admiring and guessing its path.
However, not too long into this new adventure, the eighth child saw another object that seemed to call to her somehow. The moving object was quite marvelous, but the container near her father held something beyond comprehension. She immediately knew it was something that could never be explained fully. After staring at it for quite some time, her father gave her permission to use it. Highly excited, she immediately began to paint on the walls nearby.
"Heh, well I got to say you are pretty good at drawing." One of her siblings came to her and the praise was appreciated. However, her focus on the interaction was fleeting and though she didn't mean to be rude, only smiled in reply as she continued on.
A scoff pricked the eight child's ears as she briefly turned to see the source. Her eyes saw disapproval in her sibling who stood farthest away. Inwardly grinning, she returned to her first painting and started modifying it, elongating the nose, adding a hideous tail, and also providing plenty of additions to the face that suggested the need to groom extensively.
"What a fascinating creature. I envy his flight, how free he must feel! He could touch that ceiling anytime he wanted..." The eight child blushed a bit even though the sibling who said it wasn't addressing her in the admiration. She completely agreed with him and could only stare at the portrait of him that she secretly spent more time on. She meant to say something, but like with the sibling who spoke to her before this one, something made it hard for her to speak. Soon the reasonable period of reply passed and she decided to accomplish it next time. She resumed the task of painting herself, but at this point, found herself completely unsure how to proceed.
"Why are we here?!" One of the siblings blurted out. This sudden event saved her from the creative block she encountered and turning along with the others, focused on her father.
Their father chuckled and showed them a table on which objects lay. Glancing over the contents, the eight child found most of them quite interesting and quelled the urge to paint them in greater glory. She stood up and immediately went over, placing her hand on the amulet.
For the first time, she spoke.
"I want this one, Father."
However, not too long into this new adventure, the eighth child saw another object that seemed to call to her somehow. The moving object was quite marvelous, but the container near her father held something beyond comprehension. She immediately knew it was something that could never be explained fully. After staring at it for quite some time, her father gave her permission to use it. Highly excited, she immediately began to paint on the walls nearby.
"Heh, well I got to say you are pretty good at drawing." One of her siblings came to her and the praise was appreciated. However, her focus on the interaction was fleeting and though she didn't mean to be rude, only smiled in reply as she continued on.
A scoff pricked the eight child's ears as she briefly turned to see the source. Her eyes saw disapproval in her sibling who stood farthest away. Inwardly grinning, she returned to her first painting and started modifying it, elongating the nose, adding a hideous tail, and also providing plenty of additions to the face that suggested the need to groom extensively.
"What a fascinating creature. I envy his flight, how free he must feel! He could touch that ceiling anytime he wanted..." The eight child blushed a bit even though the sibling who said it wasn't addressing her in the admiration. She completely agreed with him and could only stare at the portrait of him that she secretly spent more time on. She meant to say something, but like with the sibling who spoke to her before this one, something made it hard for her to speak. Soon the reasonable period of reply passed and she decided to accomplish it next time. She resumed the task of painting herself, but at this point, found herself completely unsure how to proceed.
"Why are we here?!" One of the siblings blurted out. This sudden event saved her from the creative block she encountered and turning along with the others, focused on her father.
Their father chuckled and showed them a table on which objects lay. Glancing over the contents, the eight child found most of them quite interesting and quelled the urge to paint them in greater glory. She stood up and immediately went over, placing her hand on the amulet.
For the first time, she spoke.
"I want this one, Father."
Nostradomuas
New Member
The fifth child then quietly walked over to the table of obscure wonders and started lifting each item carefully in his one hand, examining each piece. He was quite perplexed at how skillfully each item was crafted and made. Not a single piece here had a flaw or imperfection and seemed to radiate pure energy. He then stumbled upon a very peculiar item and tried to lift it up. It was too much he could handle with his one arm and he fell backward with the item landing on top of him. "OOMPH!" All the force landed on his chest and had to squirm to get out from underneath the object. He sat back up after catching his breath and let out a little laugh and stood up and took another look at the item by lowering one of his lens on his head over his eye. It looked like a metal ball of sorts with small holes in the metal which looked like something was on the inside. It had a great chain connected to a rather sturdy handle like a hammers, but made of a precious looking metal. And for the next couple minutes he tried to helplessly pick up the artifact and place it back on to the table. He then looked hopefully, and embarrassingly, toward the other children for a helping "hand".
Syrrus
Wishful bard
After being scold by his father, he was kicking none existing dust with his left foot, hands on his back and eyes on the ground. He felt rather bad. Not because he had insulted one of his siblings but because it was his fault that he could insult him in the first place. He didn't mean to create something that wasn't... There it was again. He peered upwards. That word which tasted deliciously as he rolled it over his tongue. "Symmetric." He then looked down to realize that everyone's attention had been turned away from the messy wall - no matter how beautiful his sister could paint it still looked like a mess to him - and towards a table his father was standing next to. He didn't want to miss out on whatever was happening so he hurried up to the rest. Avoiding his fifth brother, by reflex and peering at the items without touching them, keeping his hands steadily on his back.
Snek
Boop the snoot, you get the shoot
The Vigil beamed at his children. Of course they weren't going to wind up in a doomed timeline, not a Vigil child, no sir. They followed the callings of paradox space like a predator follows the call to the hunt. He noticed his eighth child selecting the amulet, and walked over to her.
"And you may have that one, if you so desire it, little one," said the Vigil, addressing his artistic daughter. "Once you have each chosen an Artifact, I will disclose your respective Destinies, and then you will learn of why you were created. Here, young one, let me help you with that." He grasped the handle of the heavy wrecking-ball-esque censer and lifted it effortlessly onto the table.
The seventh child hops down from his father's shoulder, landing gracefully on the ground as he breaks his gaze from Andrew the Butterfly and focuses it on the strange objects lying on the table. They were all very intriguing, but the pair of bracers seemed to call him the strongest. He wasn't sure, but something deep inside him told him that these intriguing arm guards were meant to be his.
"These bracers will be my choice," the child announced, slipping the relics onto his arms and admiring their beauty. He felt a strange new power flowing through him, but what exactly it was, he couldn't quite put into words...
"And you may have that one, if you so desire it, little one," said the Vigil, addressing his artistic daughter. "Once you have each chosen an Artifact, I will disclose your respective Destinies, and then you will learn of why you were created. Here, young one, let me help you with that." He grasped the handle of the heavy wrecking-ball-esque censer and lifted it effortlessly onto the table.
The seventh child hops down from his father's shoulder, landing gracefully on the ground as he breaks his gaze from Andrew the Butterfly and focuses it on the strange objects lying on the table. They were all very intriguing, but the pair of bracers seemed to call him the strongest. He wasn't sure, but something deep inside him told him that these intriguing arm guards were meant to be his.
"These bracers will be my choice," the child announced, slipping the relics onto his arms and admiring their beauty. He felt a strange new power flowing through him, but what exactly it was, he couldn't quite put into words...
Syrrus
Wishful bard
Not knowing what to think, the fourth child frowned slightly at the items in front of him. They were all taking one, which ever they felt the most interest in. He was staring at one piece for a rather long time himself. The eyepiece looked useful alright. He tilted his head, trying his best to look at it from every angle before grabbing it. He reached out his hand, holding it above the item silently, still frowning with his entire face. He curled his fingers around it and lift it close to his face, studying it with a skeptical look. He then nodded as if it was up to him to approve anything that his father had made and held the eyepiece gently against his chest. Without saying a word.
Nostradomuas
New Member
The fifth looked at the shiny censer and then he knew he had to conquer this heavy tool and said, "I think I'll try out this big ol' contraption here. It may be heavy, but I think I can handle it." He then grabs it again and with a big grunt and a heave he had it hanging over his shoulder and was testing its weight.
Peaceswore
Hurts too much, I'm done.
The first had locked her gaze on only a single item, she couldn't explain it nor cared much to think about it, but the item called for her full attention. When her father gave them permission to take an item she immediately grabbed the hammer. She held it in a firm yet gently grip as she tested out the weight by twirling it in her hands. After a few moments she was stratified with it and turned to face her father. "Father I wish for this one if that is allowed." She said, the hammer in hand and her eyes on her father, hoping she could keep the object that grabbed her attention.
Tictacguy123
Breath of Fresh Air
The second walked up to the table and examined the remaining items. All very amusing, and a shame that he couldn't simply take them all. However, he seemed drawn to one item in particular. A ring, sitting and shimmering, almost whispering to the cosmic child, reaching out and pulling him in. The temptation was too great, and he gave in, grabbing the ring and instantly sliding it into place on his hand.
"This one is mine" he siad definitively, as if the others were plotting to steal it. "Although they should all be mine,this one will be first." He stared at it, rotating his hand to reveal its true beauty. This was truly a beautiful artifact for what the second child believed to be the greatest of them all.
"This one is mine" he siad definitively, as if the others were plotting to steal it. "Although they should all be mine,this one will be first." He stared at it, rotating his hand to reveal its true beauty. This was truly a beautiful artifact for what the second child believed to be the greatest of them all.
Nostradomuas
New Member
"Tsk tsk that one needs to learn some manners," the fifth child thought as he carried the censer to a smaller table and laid it upon the table and pulled up a chair. When he took a seat he let out a sigh then smiled and looked down at the curious object. "Alright let's see how you tick!" And for the next 5 minutes he continued to study and look at ever nook an cranny this device held, but no matter how much he worked at it he had no idea what it did or how to use it. Then he looked at the fourth child then smiled and asked, "Hey you got those nifty goggles there, can you come take a gander on this thing and tell me what this doohickey does?"
Syrrus
Wishful bard
He had to didn't he? The fourth child slowly looked over at the one addressing him, the fifth. The one that he had messed up. He asked for aid, it was something that the fourth couldn't say no to and therefore he stepped away from the table and walked up to his brother, still holding his item close to his chest. "Goggles?" He looked down at the item in his hand and then up at the decorations on his head. Yes, it seemed like he had a pair. He walked a little closer and pointed at the thing of trouble, while peering at his brother. "This one?" He peered down and by using his item he had been given by his father he started to study it. "Oh. Interesting..." He mumbled, as he started to feel awfully excited. "I believe you put something in here, its perfectly sculpted to carry some sort of... liquid, no not liquid. Light?" He pointed towards the middle part of the item, after carefully lifting the top by pulling on one of the chains. He then mumbled something that sounded a lot like 'sorry'.
Nostradomuas
New Member
The fifth child definitely heard the fourth child say something at the end but decided to forget it. "So this thing uses light? Where am I supposed to get that and how am I supposed to use it," the fifth child asked, shrugging his shoulders, but only his right arm responded while his artificial left one just swung their in place. He then returned his attention back to the device and stared at it intently. "Thank you for the help, I really appreciate it" he said putting his hand on the fourth child's shoulder. And he sat back down to try to fathom the uses this item had.
Syrrus
Wishful bard
"Actually." The fourth twitched heavily when the fifth touched him. Almost bouncing up and down. "That's probably not it either. See these holes?" He pointed, deciding to attempt to explain his train of thought, which he couldn't stop even if he wanted to. "They're not big enough to let light shine through, nor to give enough oxygen for a flame to survive for very long. No, I would imagine... Yes, that has to be it!" He slammed his fist into his palm. "The holes are big enough to let smoke and possible incense out, perhaps that's what it's for? Though I can't say that it sound very useful to me." The child shrugged.
Nostradomuas
New Member
The fifth looked at the fourth in acknowledgement and looked back at the device on the table. "What possible use does burning incense do," he thought. So after when the fourth walked off back to his usual spot, the fifth then walked up to their father and looked up at him and asked, "So how do I use this thing? I'm glad for you letting me have this beautiful device, but i don't see how it can be of much use."
Snek
Boop the snoot, you get the shoot
((*cackles maniacally*))
The Vigil gave a silent, authoritative nod to his first child, approving of her choice. The mallet would indeed suit her well. The ring certainly looked rather spiffy on the finger of the second child, and a nod was given to him as well. He allowed the fourth to keep the eyepiece, which was meant for him in the first place, and he approved of the seventh's choice of his bracers. Those would certainly suit his demeanor.
He approached the fifth, who questioned the usefulness of such an object, and patted his head.
"All will be revealed in due time, child. But first, three of your siblings have yet to choose."
@Varie @AcornEye02 @Nico
The Vigil gave a silent, authoritative nod to his first child, approving of her choice. The mallet would indeed suit her well. The ring certainly looked rather spiffy on the finger of the second child, and a nod was given to him as well. He allowed the fourth to keep the eyepiece, which was meant for him in the first place, and he approved of the seventh's choice of his bracers. Those would certainly suit his demeanor.
He approached the fifth, who questioned the usefulness of such an object, and patted his head.
"All will be revealed in due time, child. But first, three of your siblings have yet to choose."
@Varie @AcornEye02 @Nico
