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 Posted: Mon Jan 24, 2011 8:47 pm
Christof looked ready to slam the door shut again, but at the somber, honestly curious expression on the kelpie's face, he sighed heavily through his nose, leaving the door open as he moved to his desk for his notebook again. After a moment he turned back to him, offering out his response.
It is what I live for.
And it was true. Patchworks were created, often with some sort of intent in mind- be it to scare and terrorize, to be a home made bride, a loving pet, or, in his case, a loyal servant. He wasn't sure what about the concept the Kelpie didn't understand, but again, his explanations at this point had been kept short and sweet, clearly frustrating to him to explain.
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Posted: Mon Jan 24, 2011 9:04 pm
As far as short and sweet went, Christof's answer had been to the point and it still confused Calder to no end. "What you live for? Okay, do you mean it's what makes you happy or is it because it's what you grew up doing and being told to do?" He had read the report. He knew Igors were made and "lived for" serving. Did he mean he "lived for" serving, because he LOVED it, or because he was supposed to do it. Oh, he wasn't sure even if that would make sense.
He rubbed his neck a moment. "Can you even answer that? You can't compare it to anything. How can you say you live for it when you don't know what living without it is like? You wrote you grew up being made by and for a master, and now you're at school with a few more. Have you EVER not had a master? Just for…….a week? A day?" How could he be so sure it's what he lived for when he never lived anything differently.
It was frustrating to explain what doing whatever you wanted, whenever you wanted, and having any choice of what to do with your time and how you used it to someone who probably never had it. He never met someone who was a servant. It just blew his brain. Dragging his hands through his hair, which loosened a stick and a water bug from his hair to drop to the ground, he tried to think. "How can you live for someone else? Taking their orders and doing whatever they want even when you don't want to? That doesn't seem fun at all. Why don't you just want to break free and escape?" He didn't get it. Why wasn't freedom appealing to him? Why wasn't it something he naturally wanted to do. "Why is having a master so great to you? What are you even getting out of it that keeps you there? Is it just because you were told that you were supposed to? Is that it?"
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Posted: Mon Jan 24, 2011 9:16 pm
The questions kept coming and the Igor was shaking now, backing away into his room to try to pace and digest them all. Live without a MASTER? The thought terrified him. What good was he on his own? A Masterless Igor is what. A reject, someone who was NOT good at what they did. He felt stupid in his fancy etiquette outfit, grabbing his ascot to throw it across the room in his frustration, and Scruff gave a yip before waddling back into the room to chase it. His stitched mouth writhed into a scowl as he glowered back at the Kelpie, still trying to think of a proper response.
After shrugging out of his jacket, he grabbed his notebook again, his handwriting wobbly and rushed and clearly vexed by now as he tried to articulate an answer. It seemed they both were giving each other a headache.
Igors must serve a Master or they are nothing but Spare Parts. No direction. It is what we do. It is what gives us a sense of self-worth and accomplishment. Master's accomplishment IS OUR accomplishment as a good Igor. I do not understand why you do not understand.
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Posted: Mon Jan 24, 2011 9:36 pm
He moved slowly into the room, looking about as he did. There was the reassuring smell of fresh earth and moisture, something that was welcoming to the kelpie at first. Then he smelled a sort of stale, acidic chemical scent that made his nose wrinkle and his ears twitch in agitation. While he never did mind the dark – the lake and river bottoms sometimes being pitch black and murky - the faint glow of a row of nearby flame bombs in their glass cases gave the room long shadows. While there wasn't much, what little there was said a lot. A row of used tools, worn but kept in working condition, were lined here and there, some too big and resting against the wall, and others set on a countertop further against the wall. A wall that had barely anything. He noticed some pictures, but the room was far too dark. What he did notice were the few limbs handing up by ropes and jutting nails, and, more clearly, how these too were organized in rows on the wall, though there were plenty of empty spaces. If they were fresher, they would have been appealing as a snack, but they looked strange in color and had a strange smell.
Just then, he turned to notice the notebook had been held out, and Calder took the notebook to see better. Again, it didn't help, and he sighed. "That…" he pointed to what he wrote. "That's what I don't get. How can you live for a master and enjoy it? I know you like it, but didn't you ever think that maybe it's not so bad not having a owner? That they might have lied to you and it's actually really fun? I just don't get why anyone would want a master." How did he explain this better? He looked down at a long list of responses from the Igor about Igors.
"When I was little, I was always told masters were a bad thing. I remember my parents saying that I had better watch out or I would be stolen and taken by a master or mistress and be sent to work and slave for them, doing whatever they wanted, and could never do what I wanted. I'd never get to eat what I wanted, run wherever I wanted to, and if they wanted me to do anything for them, I'd have to do it. I'd be their prisoner, and would live a long, miserable life ploughing fields and eating nothing but stale grass for as long as I lived." Clearly this was a nightmare for a kelpie, but it might not translate as well to others. "I can't imagine what you would like about having a master. Day in. Day out. Being told what to do and how to do it and that you'd never get anything you might want to do or have at any time. That's you'd get whipped and they would jab you with hot pokers whenever they wanted. Your days must be horrible….and yet….you like it???" He looked back at the notebook, and then back at him.
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Posted: Mon Jan 24, 2011 9:45 pm
Christof looked incredulous, the corners of his mouth twitching as he tried once again to scramble for a response. With a frustrated whine in the back of his throat, he sat on his meager bed, notebook in his lap as he attempted to grab at thoughts that kept swirling out of his grasp to explain.
Wrong. Masters are wonderful. They... He wobbled, grip trembling on his pen. They make things happen. They move the world. It is a lot to bear, and they need help. We are here to do that. It feels good to help them accomplish things. Things beyond our imagination. They make life. They make advances in Halloween technology. They st... again, his hand stopped writing as he seemed to struggle for words. I feel lost and do bad things without a Master.
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Posted: Mon Jan 24, 2011 10:10 pm
Moving over, he took the notebook and read, slowly, and then again. While he doubted it, he wondered if he had been lied to in some ways. How could Christof write in full support of something if it was terrible? Wouldn't he naturally know something was wrong or evil even if he grew up thinking it was right? Wouldn't he get, at some point, that urge to just run away? If there was something appealing to the entire thing, was that what was keeping him there? Not to mention he wondered what amazing, stupendous, past his scope of imagination type things a master of any sort could create that he couldn't do on his own. Just how grand was all of it, or was it all just a lie?
He slowly sat on the rather, gripping the end as he was surprised by how it sagged and creaked. He nearly fell back, before he settled as best he could. He went back to looking at the rewards and wonders of being a servant. "Everyone is mad at me for what I did in detention and they say I can't control myself. Everyone just keeps jumping on me. I don't know if they'd like me more if I had someone….to look over me. To keep me from…well..being crazy." He pointed to "bad" where Christof had written how he had been a bad Igor. While Calder hadn't understood it during the Truth or Dare game, everyone had been in full support of Christof having a master to keep him from killing a minipet and her owner just in the nick of time. Wouldn't that be beneficial to him as well considering what he almost just did in the laundry room?
"Still……….I don't know how it would be. You were raised to be like that and don't know what it's like. You live for a master. I don't know how I'd live with one." He gripped the notebook a bit. "It freaks me out. I don't want to be miserable." And yet. "…I don't want to hurt people either and have my friends hate me."
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Posted: Mon Jan 24, 2011 10:15 pm
Christof glanced up at the kelpi's face, his stitched mouth still twitching as he digested Clader's words. Emotions bubbled up... pity, he supposed? The poor wild animal didn't understand the wonders he had, albeit forcefully, beaten into him through his rigorous Igor training. He wasn't sure why but... those thoughts had never occurred to him, and they startled him. Shifting, he reached out to try to take the notebook back, mouth squirming like a centipede on his mismatched face.
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Posted: Mon Jan 24, 2011 10:20 pm
He had completely forgotten he had been holding the notebook hostage, and released when the boil took it from him and gave a little tug. It was this close that he could see past the slipping scarf and noticed that it wasn't that Christof was shy or mute, but that he mist was stitched. Now he understood a patchwork face and arms. Parts had to keep together, but why was his mouth sewn when it didn't need to be? It wasn't like his guts would go tumbling out if it did.
Frowning, he instead looked over, not only to peer more (mind you without hiding it) at the stitches, but also to glance down and see what he was writing.
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Posted: Mon Jan 24, 2011 10:45 pm
It would explain why the notebook was nearly filled already as he turned it to a fresh page, the hunchback's face flushed as he tried to scoot away from the hovering Kelpie a bit more. Finally, he wrote down a bit more confidently:
Might do you good. Teach you lessons. Discipline is important. That is what we are taught. If Igors did not do our job of looking after our Masters and being Looked After in return, it would be chaos. And no Progress.
His tightly stitched mouth twisted upward into a confident smile, clearly taking pride in his work, despite the confusing gibberish the horse-boil was spouting about being free and wild.
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Posted: Mon Jan 24, 2011 10:57 pm
Calder didn't notice the desire for personal space, but didn't advance. Instead, he looked at the notebook, no reason to take it from the other boil who clearly needed it more than he did, and thought what the boil was suggesting over. His eyes squinted as if trying to see something more clearly from at a distance, and then tilted his head. Then, after a moment of squinting a little harder at the notebook, turned his head to the other side - as if the idea being planted was a marble that had to roll around in his skull a bit first. ((Of course if Riley was here, she'd probably make note of all the ample space inside.)) Then, as if nearing some point, or maybe getting closer to giving Christof a headache, he brought his head up straight once more.
"Doing work doesn't sound like much fun." It didn't sound like he'd enjoy himself in any way actually. "....and what if I don't like it? I'd be stuck with that master forever. Isn't there a......" he waved his hand a little in the air as if rolling it would pull the idea to him. ".....beginners course without the commitment or is it master or nothing?" Was that his only option. "Like - Pre-Igor classes? Test runs? Test Ride?" He wasn't sure what school Igors went to to learn how to serve their masters, but there had to be something he could do without the full commitment. Or so he hoped. If he didn't get some control soon, Yaya would be right in her assumption. He wouldn't have any friends. The idea of being alone and ignored, but now with the addition of being hated, bothered him the most. So much that ....he was willing to give it a shot.
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Posted: Mon Jan 24, 2011 11:01 pm
Christof outright snorted, glancing over to the boil incredulously once again. He looked him over before shaking his head and writing down his reply.
You don't have what it takes to be a proper Igor.
He offered the notebook with a look of pompous pride in his own training.
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Posted: Mon Jan 24, 2011 11:12 pm
His face fell in shock at the direct jab at him, and then he narrowed his eyes at the patchwork boil. "What? Like it's SOoooo hard. Your master says something. You do it. The end. Do the show and dance over again." He said, gesturing the process as a simple step process. Hear a Command. Do Command. Finished. Rinse and repeat. It sounded horribly boring and showed no signs of any sort of wondrous fun and Halloween Town-changing achievements in there whatsoever, but he guessed that was up to the master or mistress. They just did the work the lazy ones didn't want to do and somewhere, in all that mess, got something great out of it. He still didn't see what, but looking at Christof's notes, he said it was the best thing since minnow paste.
His ears turned back at the fact he couldn't even accomplish a simple task if given. His mom barked orders at him all the time and he did all his chores back at home. That was more or less, in some softer way, being what he was. Right?
"What makes you so cocky? I could be the best Igor thing around and a amazing kelpie on top of that. I'd like to see you slap that on your resume.." And he raised his head a little higher. "....but you can't because you can't be amazing like that. Not everyone can be both, and you'd never get it." Clearly. The boil didn't get what it meant to be wild at all. "I bet being wild smart would make me Igor smart too.I could be a twice better Igor because of it." Like how having street smarts made you a better Boogyman.
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Posted: Mon Jan 24, 2011 11:58 pm
DISCIPLINE. You have none of it. Christof's face had gone red, and he wrote furiously, clearly trying to rant and yell, but it was difficult without the capacity to do so. Instead, the lines of text were punctuated by growls and grunts in his throat. Selflessness! It is more than just doing what you are told! You belittle me AND my people? You are no better than the rest of them! No appreciation! You think running around doing whatever you like is the greatest thing in the world? Drowning whomever even if they did nothing to you? Spoiled child! I can't believe You think it is so simple! If I ran around doing what you do I would be expelled in an instant! Special treatment undeserved! Deserve worse than detention! Deserve to be Spare Parts for insolence!
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Posted: Tue Jan 25, 2011 12:14 am
His ears shot flat as he leaned away from the words, face widening as he read more and more. For all the grunts and growls used to fill in for the lack of shouting, it still got the emotion across. Calder, however, would have preferred the yelling over the hand gestures, and wanted to hear the boil, but that wasn't going to work with his mouth all sewn shut. Again, the words were enough to make him break into Max Volume. "HEY! I DON'T GO AROUND DROWNING PEOPLE! THAT ALMOST HAPPENED ONCE!" He said, raising a finger as the only bad mark against him. That was of course not including his relatives in the past, but that didn’t count and he wasn't about to bring it up either. "AND DON'T CALL ME SPOILED AND I'M NOT SPARE PARTS! DON'T EVEN KID ABOUT THAT. THERE ARE FACTORIES OUT THERE!!" He pointed out, knowing very well that kelpie meat was rather salty and a delicacy for specific types of other meat-eating creatures. Some said, even, that some rich demons still practiced in the arts of eating exotic creatures, and he shuddered at the idea.
"You wouldn't LAST being anything but you. You don't know what it's like to be free so don't go talking about it like you know cause you don't! You get all huffy about me, but don't go spouting off when you don't know how to even live like I do. It's not going to KILL you or destroy the whole of Halloweentown. I bet you wouldn't even know how to go about it and what to do with yourself even if I told you. You'd just fail. It's not so easy being a kelpie. You have to have spirit and rely on your impulses. You probably ignored all of yours until they don't even bother whispering." He shot back. He was this close to taking the notebook and throwing it across the room. He was PLENTY disciplined!
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Posted: Tue Jan 25, 2011 12:23 am
Don't know what you are talking about! Rubbish and nonsense get out of my room! Christof growled as he wrote, his pen threatening to go clear through the paper, and finally did, tearing it as he continued: Almost threw nice Miss Lizzy who only looks after Miss Amrita into vat of hot BLEACH! Freedom is a frightening thing! Not to be trusted! What is satisfying in GLUTTONY for madness?? No desire for your lack of order! That written, he tore the page out of the notebook, crumpling it to outright throw it at the Kelpie who was making his head hurt with his ridiculous notions.
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