Precisely none of what she was seeing could be explained away - not yet, at least - and though she fought against this inhibition, it had still begun to nag at her. The need to drop everything, take scrapings, desperately rush to find a microscope for further analysis. To pick apart their molecular structures and make some sense of it, by way of bonds and building blocks. Anything to reassure herself that she had not, in fact, just been dropped into the plot of some entirely bizarre fantasy novel.
"I do. It is my name." It seemed pointless to question, at this juncture, how something was speaking directly into her thoughts. She exhaled slowly, doing her best to expel the inherent worry that came partnered with that feeling of being purposely left in the dark.
<Do not, DO NOT. I can tell. Your mind is full of nixelfirm and asjenctures and you don't know the meaning of your own name.>
"You have such bold words for an apparently telepathic thing who 'speaks' nonsense, you know."
<But how can this be 'nonsense' if I know more than you do? You're the nonsensified one!> His words devolved into a fit of cruel laughter once more, overwhelmed by her apparent naivety.
That awful humming intensified as she progressed through the room, and she had to stop it if she intended to figure any of this out, she decided.
<I'll stop when you pick me up! See, simmertum, I TOLD you that I was right! Stupid, you're stupid!>
If this was meant to agitate her, it was working. Mimsy might have been otherwise clever enough to avoid insults or harsh words, but the label of 'stupid', which happened to directly follow not knowing something. Well, that was unavoidable, wasn't it? Her fingers had begun to quiver with the bits and pieces of rage and frustration that made it past that fine sieve in her mind. She had practiced and tried and learned how to calm herself, to retain a solid foundation and clear mentality, years and years of very specific steps and trials, and it had all worked. Emotion had absolutely no place in logic, after all. It muddied it and skewed results. She could absolutely not be the best upcoming scientist in her field if she allowed such things to retain her intake of knowledge and newfound truths.
So, though the thing could seemingly read all of her thoughts, she refrained from saying anything else that he might use as fodder for his childish teasing.
She'd find it without his help.
<No, you won't.>
Yes, she would.
There had to be some sort of algorithm at use here to determine it...frowning, she stared down the wall of stones, tried to focus on the direction of the humming...
After ghosting her fingers across several that just did not feel right, which was maddening in more ways than one, she pursed her lips and tapped on a stone engraved with something vaguely...phallic, she noted with a smile.
<YOU MEAN SWORDLIKE.> the voice shrieked.
"Ah, so this is you," she mused, reaching to pull the tablet from its place.
And that was when nothing short of magic happened, transforming something that was just a ridiculous little talking stone into a real weapon.
Mimsy gritted her teeth together in annoyance.
<Cheer up, tiny fleshy thing. You've got me now! Forever! Oh, won't that be fun, something in your mind that you can't control? What a gran adventure it will be! I have so many things to say, after sleeping for so long. I just may never stop talking, in fact.>
"It is exceptionally rare that I qualify something beneath the category of 'hate', as it's such a significant extreme, but I believe you have managed to placeyourself there." Her lips were pressed into the fine line best practiced by disapproving mothers as she began to make her way out of this awful, awful room.
<Wait, wait! You don't even know me yet!> the voice persisted, beginning to sound a bit panicked.
"I know you well enough," she responded, matter-of-fact. What importance were names when character had already been so blatantly displayed? The voice made several noises of frenzied disapproval before just giving up; he was going to announce himself whether she wanted it or not.
<SVENSYL. I AM SVENSYL, YOU NIBBLYWIG.> It came punctuated with snorts and hisses and sounded quite like he was still not entirely satisfied in spite of spitting his name out for her.
Mimsy smiled.
"Greetings, sir."
