GOATS

[blackgoat]

"Do you have children?"

The voice seemed to come before the lady, as if the question summoned her, rather than was actually spoken.

Small, demure in appearance, lovely in a way that quickly extended itself into the realm of disquieting. She seemed doll like, unliving and not quite made of flesh.

Little hands resting on a heavily pregnant belly, the woman draped in heavy Victorian dresses of stone grays, off whites and dull sky blues, with that porcelain skin and wild snow white hair, she'd almost look like she was trying to blend into the snow.

"If you do not, do you want them?"

Ah, so it was her speaking, the voice soft and sweet, if... off, in an odd way. A tone that crept up the spine and settled into the neck and base of the skull, like cold fingers pressed against the nape.

Comments

[blackgoat]

Oh she can feel it. There's really no thoughts for those who were sterile. Offering the chance to create was always on the table, let it never be said she was without power, after all.

"Ah... your young are born... blank, as I recall." Not much inside a human infants head, it had to be taught. "It requires shaping, you are not born formed." Unlike her own children, all born with unfathomable intelligence and incredible size.

"My own do not require such tutelage. I am curious, however, as to what 'wrong things' may be, for your kind."

[lovesuwithknives]

Azwel sets the chair upright, dusts the chips off it, and sits, thinking. He's suddenly tired, as though all this delving into his own emotions instead of others' has taxed his energy.

His usual manic smile and theatrical tone are gone and in their place is... a kind of melancholy.

"Oh, so many things most of society would object to, at least where I'm from. To value knowledge instead of religion, thought instead of belief. To always question authority, to do what is right instead of what is nice, to work toward the greater good regardless of present societal whims." A beat where he gives a half-smile. "And to always tread carefully around astral fissures."

[blackgoat]

"You speak as if they are not wrong." Simple, short.

"I ask again: were you given the chance and ability, would you take it? Or does the morality of society direct your choices?"

[lovesuwithknives]

Azwel pauses in a whirl of thought. He knows he walks a delicate line with a being this powerful. He knows she's leading his thoughts in a specific direction. He knows those words were deliberately chosen.

And yet... those words do cause the rebel in him to stir. And they bring up visions of his work continuing, of another generation of brilliance or, at least, diligence in the fight to save humanity from itself. He can actually imagine himself a father.

"I..." He swallows, hard. "Yes," he breathes. "I would."

[blackgoat]

A smile crosses her face, though it seems not to warm her at all. It never reaches the eyes, the expression almost artificial.

"Then, so I shall bless you.

Give me time, child. I will restore you in time."

[lovesuwithknives]

Child. He hasn't been called that in a long, long time. A tiny stab of nostalgia prods him.

Moreover, that tense sensation leaves him and the blood is no longer rushing in his ears.

"Time," he murmurs, still entranced. "Of course." A beat. "What can I do to thank you?"

A dangerous question, to be sure.