circumitus: Take control of me and wipe away my fears... (i'm a broken doll; you're the puppeteer)
Reybama ([personal profile] circumitus) wrote 2013-09-30 12:25 am (UTC)

yet each man kills the thing he loves

They say that today marks the genesis of great things to come.

To the creators, the vessel is a creation, now a woman fabricated out of metal, coils, and flesh. To her greatest admirer, a man calls her a goddess of gold and ember.

She lives in the Glass House, which is more of a cell within the solid halls, deep within Niflheim. Here she is sentenced to chains and no sun. All they do here is watch her.

No one has ever touched her before. No one comes near her, or talks directly to her. When she hears them speak, it is always amongst themselves.

She sits in her cell watching monitors flip through images of the outside world, and wonders what it must be like out there. Is there life beyond the Glass House? Is there freedom?

The vessel never knew freedom, if such a thing exists. Liberty is dying in a world where freedom meant so little.

More doctors would come. They all look the same with their blank faces and shallow tones. They are all numbers, texts, bodies in black forms and fluid shapes.

After they leave, she recalls a man’s shadow standing outside of the House, often telling her things.

“‘Yet each man kills the thing he loves.’”

Every night he visits to tell her a story or a poem.

She falls asleep before he finishes most of them.

One night, when she is awake, the same admirer comes to visit later than usual. His hand presses to the observatory glass as he always does when he venerate her, as if trying to reach in through the solid barrier built between them.

“I have always loved stories. Ever since I was a boy, I had a particular fondness for the legend of the salamander, the creature that devours the flames that burn it. Some would say that if you doused yourself in the blood of one of these monsters, you could walk through fire yourself.” He looks to her with those colorless eyes of his that she saw in everyone.

In that moment, she sees something in the man that she has seen in herself. Something that is hungry.

“But you are not a mere legend, are you? When I first saw you, after hearing what you did to your brother, it makes me wonder... what would happen to one if one were to douse in your blood? It would be a more productive alternative.

“If not for your makers, you would have long since been long disposed under the director’s orders. When your father lost faith, however, I stood by your mother.

“You should thank me.”


(It rages. It gnarls. It hungers.)

“There is something purifying about fire, wouldn’t you agree, salamander?”

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