Passage
Lean Not and Stand
"One of the truest tests of integrity is its blunt refusal to be compromised."
--Chinua Achebe
There were certain things Renne was sure of.
Those things were few, very few, but they were a sure constance in this changing world.
Renne kept on roaming the city in search of several things. Materials. A possible job that he might pay for said materials. And things far less concrete, far less...mundane. Zonker had spoken of the Monks and now, Renne knew he had to find them. It didn't occur that they'd find him.
All he knew was that he wanted his truth back. He wanted it back so he could fulfill his dreams. They weren't too extraordinary dreams, just his and they were what they were.
The lumber supplier peered down at the humanised oddity with an expression of skepticism. This odd-thing was several things: Not naturally human and, more importantly, unable currently, to pay the proper coin for the materials requested. Still, the burly, lumberjack-built gent listened.
"Lissen, I can' jus' hand 'em to yah. Why no' come back later n' we'll see what we can do, eh?"
Renne understood the principles of a transaction -- it was at its most basic of concepts, a trade of equal but differing resources. He could steal those resources; he knew that. But the creature refused to think along such lines -- it had taken him long enough to get back as much integrity as now.
His integrity was as important to him as his few dreams.
He nodded, chirped a humanised chirp and bumbled out of the lumberhouse.
The good news was, that he hadn't completely blown his chance of procuring the wood he needed. For now, his mind turned to other sought-after things. Things he knew and things he didn't know.
Renne returned to the outlined stretch of earth and crawled his triangular path in an effort to sort his thoughts. Things were missing. Things weren't where they ought to be.
I am here. Not as I should be but I am here.
he asked himself questions and on the second leg of his path, Renne stopped in front of the worn marble edifice that still bore a faded resemblance of what it had been carved into.
One upon a time...
Once again.
He nodded to himself. He still loved the ghosts but had learned what ghosts could do to a mind. Trusting ghosts was neither logical, nor was it conducive to his kind of dreams. Renne took a moment to sit on the sand and with his beloved blue mug, he drank some Sumatran coffee.
If you want something done, you got to do it yourself.
The coffee was hot and had his favoured balance of sweet without completely drowning out the flavour of the coffee itself. The sweet, for him, enhanced it. The blend of sweet and bitter reminded him of how his life had been. What he has to show for it. What he had lost, be it by fate or what had been taken from him. His errors. His triumphs.
The group of robed men stared at the creature with its coffee. They had seen what he had done, seen what it had done to him.
They watched in silent contempt.
Lean Not and Stand
"One of the truest tests of integrity is its blunt refusal to be compromised."
--Chinua Achebe
There were certain things Renne was sure of.
Those things were few, very few, but they were a sure constance in this changing world.
Renne kept on roaming the city in search of several things. Materials. A possible job that he might pay for said materials. And things far less concrete, far less...mundane. Zonker had spoken of the Monks and now, Renne knew he had to find them. It didn't occur that they'd find him.
All he knew was that he wanted his truth back. He wanted it back so he could fulfill his dreams. They weren't too extraordinary dreams, just his and they were what they were.
The lumber supplier peered down at the humanised oddity with an expression of skepticism. This odd-thing was several things: Not naturally human and, more importantly, unable currently, to pay the proper coin for the materials requested. Still, the burly, lumberjack-built gent listened.
"Lissen, I can' jus' hand 'em to yah. Why no' come back later n' we'll see what we can do, eh?"
Renne understood the principles of a transaction -- it was at its most basic of concepts, a trade of equal but differing resources. He could steal those resources; he knew that. But the creature refused to think along such lines -- it had taken him long enough to get back as much integrity as now.
His integrity was as important to him as his few dreams.
He nodded, chirped a humanised chirp and bumbled out of the lumberhouse.
The good news was, that he hadn't completely blown his chance of procuring the wood he needed. For now, his mind turned to other sought-after things. Things he knew and things he didn't know.
Renne returned to the outlined stretch of earth and crawled his triangular path in an effort to sort his thoughts. Things were missing. Things weren't where they ought to be.
I am here. Not as I should be but I am here.
he asked himself questions and on the second leg of his path, Renne stopped in front of the worn marble edifice that still bore a faded resemblance of what it had been carved into.
One upon a time...
Once again.
He nodded to himself. He still loved the ghosts but had learned what ghosts could do to a mind. Trusting ghosts was neither logical, nor was it conducive to his kind of dreams. Renne took a moment to sit on the sand and with his beloved blue mug, he drank some Sumatran coffee.
If you want something done, you got to do it yourself.
The coffee was hot and had his favoured balance of sweet without completely drowning out the flavour of the coffee itself. The sweet, for him, enhanced it. The blend of sweet and bitter reminded him of how his life had been. What he has to show for it. What he had lost, be it by fate or what had been taken from him. His errors. His triumphs.
The group of robed men stared at the creature with its coffee. They had seen what he had done, seen what it had done to him.
They watched in silent contempt.