Re: The Battle Majestic (Round 3 - Oxbow Inc.)
08-17-2010, 01:26 PM
Originally posted on MSPA by Schazer.
If Sen hadn't been subjected to the routine paralysis during their transition from tropical island to undersea lab, perhaps he would've been a lot less savagely inconsolable than he was when his feet finally hit rock bottom, dropped off at the lowest, central point in the base.
The first thing the Tender did was let a long shudder pass down its entire form, culminating in a piercing scream. Sen charged about, tail-pod flailing at anything breakable (which, for the enraged beast, was sorely lacking in this industrial zone), talons smacking out, punching through windowglass and upending anything not nailed down. The Tender was, insofar as he was able, throwing a tantrum to rival the most petulant child. The reasons behind this completely irrational behaviour were complex - perhaps complex enough that they'd scrambled whatever qualified for a brain in the Tender and forced it into overdrive while it got its priorities sorted out.
Had Sen been able to rationalise his thoughts (though to be fair if that were possible the Tender would not have been gallumphing its noisy, destructive way around the construction site) they might've gone something like this.
One seed lost was tolerable. Inevitable, perhaps, even - that was surely the point of carrying multiple pods. A safeguard, to best ensure the investment which was the World Tree in Sen would in the end bear out. Sen could even tell that the World Tree in the Bubble Universe was doomed. It didn't make being torn from it any easier, but he could acknowledge in his botanic way that inevitability, and perhaps even contemplate for a moment on the concept of luck, and how it applied to him suddenly being in far more favourable climes.
This shift, previously a blessing, had just callously wrenched the creature from what should've been its resounding victory. Firestar was consigned to be the throne of a behemoth tree, whose roots would cross oceans and eventually strangle the planet. Sen had won, so much as it was possible for an organism to 'win' at a task as fundamentally biological as propogation of the species - he'd already envisioned the oceans, encroached as they were by sprawling roots, bathed in the amber dust of World Tree pollen. That Tree probably didn't need Sen's help.
But now, gods-knew how many galaxies or even dimensions away, as far as Sen was concerned there was a volcano with no guarantee that his efforts hadn't been wasted - and that assured victory soured into uncertainty was eating the Tender up. The disturbing lack of sunlight, too, wasn't alleviating the green beast's mood. He screeched a little louder and kicked over a stack of girders.
If Sen hadn't been subjected to the routine paralysis during their transition from tropical island to undersea lab, perhaps he would've been a lot less savagely inconsolable than he was when his feet finally hit rock bottom, dropped off at the lowest, central point in the base.
The first thing the Tender did was let a long shudder pass down its entire form, culminating in a piercing scream. Sen charged about, tail-pod flailing at anything breakable (which, for the enraged beast, was sorely lacking in this industrial zone), talons smacking out, punching through windowglass and upending anything not nailed down. The Tender was, insofar as he was able, throwing a tantrum to rival the most petulant child. The reasons behind this completely irrational behaviour were complex - perhaps complex enough that they'd scrambled whatever qualified for a brain in the Tender and forced it into overdrive while it got its priorities sorted out.
Had Sen been able to rationalise his thoughts (though to be fair if that were possible the Tender would not have been gallumphing its noisy, destructive way around the construction site) they might've gone something like this.
One seed lost was tolerable. Inevitable, perhaps, even - that was surely the point of carrying multiple pods. A safeguard, to best ensure the investment which was the World Tree in Sen would in the end bear out. Sen could even tell that the World Tree in the Bubble Universe was doomed. It didn't make being torn from it any easier, but he could acknowledge in his botanic way that inevitability, and perhaps even contemplate for a moment on the concept of luck, and how it applied to him suddenly being in far more favourable climes.
This shift, previously a blessing, had just callously wrenched the creature from what should've been its resounding victory. Firestar was consigned to be the throne of a behemoth tree, whose roots would cross oceans and eventually strangle the planet. Sen had won, so much as it was possible for an organism to 'win' at a task as fundamentally biological as propogation of the species - he'd already envisioned the oceans, encroached as they were by sprawling roots, bathed in the amber dust of World Tree pollen. That Tree probably didn't need Sen's help.
But now, gods-knew how many galaxies or even dimensions away, as far as Sen was concerned there was a volcano with no guarantee that his efforts hadn't been wasted - and that assured victory soured into uncertainty was eating the Tender up. The disturbing lack of sunlight, too, wasn't alleviating the green beast's mood. He screeched a little louder and kicked over a stack of girders.
peace to the unsung peace to the martyrs | i'm johnny rotten appleseed
clouds is shaky love | broke as hell but i got a bunch of ringtones
eyes blood red bruise aubergine | Sue took something now Sue doesn't sleep | saint average, day in the life of
woke up in the noon smelling doom and death | out the house, great outdoors
staying warm in arctic blizzard | that's my battle 'til I get inanimate | still up in the same clothes living like a gameshow
clouds is shaky love | broke as hell but i got a bunch of ringtones
eyes blood red bruise aubergine | Sue took something now Sue doesn't sleep | saint average, day in the life of
woke up in the noon smelling doom and death | out the house, great outdoors
staying warm in arctic blizzard | that's my battle 'til I get inanimate | still up in the same clothes living like a gameshow