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 Posted: Fri Apr 25, 2014 12:25 pm
Listlessness pervaded him now, a nebulous state demanding constant questions of actions pitted against intent. Would venturing into the night, losing himself to the forays of absolution in death, veto his resignation? No - that question found answer quickly enough. But as he traced old steps through pitted streets, atop roofs coated with a fine dusting of dirt and pollen, through alleys trimmed with trash and debris, he wondered. He wondered of the efficacy of his actions, of the inseparable ties of fate wrapped about himself, and the myriad of others he purportedly worked beside in the Negaverse. Were they damned to similar deaths, to succumb to their enemies in a final act? Would order achieve total stagnation and order of Earth?
And what of chaos? Were they truly proponents of it? The Dark Kingdom, in its frivolous ranks and regulations and rules... Why? No manner of militaristic rigidity lent toward chaos as a whole. Truly it worked on the function of a war, but... Even guerilla tactics adopted by the Americans in their war for independence or the Koreans in their war offered more success than the regulation of their opponents. We have home field advantage, you lot of useless Yankees. Why are we tooling around vapidly when we can lose ourselves to the nature of Chaos and win this damnable war? Why? It makes no sense.
His feet found a stay from running as the weak blossom of a lieutenant's auric energies washed over his senses. He diverted his course just slightly, keeping to the lips of buildings in a precarious perch, before his sights fell on a familiar comrade littered with bows and baked goods. "Wolframite." The word found articulation in neither warm or cool reception.
The General-King... Zinkenite. Why punish him for pursuing the abject abominations littering this world? They are not of our fate. Why punish at all for acts executed? For actions taken? Chaos entails movement - and order entails stagnation. Why side with the enemy?
Are they afraid of something? The end? What is it? I can't tell - the answers are too far gone from my meager fingertips.
Bischofite paced in a half-circle around the newly-demoted lieutenant before crouching atop the precipice. Small flecks of gravel ground beneath his boot, likely dislodged from skirmishes long gone. "It hurts to haf' ze ranks sucked from your body, does it not? But... I cannot, for all my time spent in rumination, justify reducing you to no more zan a grunt. Natron, perhaps - for zat man offers nossing in ze category of leadership - but your devotion to your ideals, no matter zeir origins, places you abof'e Zinkenite himself. Why? What was ze justification for reducing you to zis state? Zese tawdry bows and trite weapon..." The feathered general tapered off with a breath drawn between teeth, as a gloved hand reached outward to pluck the end of a ribbon tied to his uniform.
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Posted: Fri Apr 25, 2014 3:01 pm
Productive was probably the farthest descriptor of what Wolframite had been up to for the past week. He had barely powered up into his uniform in fear the collar would summon him to Leto, and he spent the better part of his time just working and recovering at home. Being normal. Not thinking about hos his uniform had changed back and how he missed high heels just because it gave him a bit more height.
Yet, he did go in uniform a few times, but this was mainly to show to anyone who might be watching that he was going on patrols, but he wasn’t fighting. Instead, he’d pick up some backed goods, power up, and find some roof to eat his snack and just try to sort out his thoughts and feelings. Or better yet, eat his feelings. Luckily, he had the sort of metabolism that meant he could do with a few snacks as long as he ran on a few rooftops after. However, after a few bakeries n the span of a few days, he knew he might be having a bit of a problem. While some men might collect empty bear bottles around them when they were depressed, Wolframite first knew to pick up after himself, and also didn’t really drink much. He felt better when he had a fresh cookie or a scone.
Today, it was brownies with rainbow sprinkles. For whatever reason, bakeries were the type of place that made the world seem simpler. They were warm, smelled great, and had bright colors with sweet smelling goods made with care. Sitting on the roof overlooking the city, he just felt things were just easier when he considered that this was a place that had rainbow sprinkles.
He felt the energy signature, and wondered if he should run or not.. Then again, if he ran and this was someone checking up on him, then he’d come off as suspicious. He decided, despite wanting to leave, to stay put. Tense, the bakery bag crinkled as he held it, preparing for the worse.
But it wasn’t. It was Bischofite , and while he didn’t know the man much, he wasn’t a threat to him. He only had to wonder I the man held any ill will due to the failure of the mission. Looking over worriedly, he gave a little nod of acknowledgement. “General.” He said, referring him to his rank as a lowly lieutenant.
Working through his thick accent, Wolframite only frowned and turned back to look down at the bakery bag in his lap. “I don’t know. If I knew the answers, maybe things would make more sense to me. Seems that the only purpose any officer holds is to follow orders. Those with rank have the power, and the ones on top seem to think they know best. Follow orders and you get rewarded. Question anything that isn’t the orders and you get punished.” He looked back up at the officer. “At least that’s what basically broke down to during my lecture. “My usefulness only let me live. I have to prove now I can follow orders and never speak up about my own opinions.” A simple ‘yes sir’ was all that was needed from him apparently.
Sighing, he took out a little brownie and bite into one of the corners.
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Posted: Fri May 02, 2014 9:04 pm
A disgusted sigh came from Bischofite snarled lips at recognition of rank. "Don't call me zat." Was he present as a general punishing lackeys? Rank only suited him when convenient. These times afforded no additional convenience stemming from position. "Our structure is archaic, Wolframite. Who are we to dabble in order and militaristic mannerisms when we stand as embodiments of Chaos? It's pas'etic, and I will haf' no part of it."
Not until it suits you. He smiled sardonically toward his own inner comment.
"It needs to change." Bischofite's gaze drifted toward the bag of confections, and in leaning into the man's personal space, eyed the goods within. Some looked irresistibly delicious, and the general found himself at odds with simply stealing one of the brownies or resuming their serious discussion. Why not both? "Eizer we capitulate to inept leaders, or we break zis outmoded system down and resign ourselfs toward somesing... New. Find someone to better manipulate ze system in place, or rework ze system while retaining ze ones currently... In power, if one could call it zat. But such talk is blatant treason, is it not?"
Finally a gloved hand shot out to usurp the bag, and soon the feathered general probed its depths for a single brownie. Satisfied with his poached acquisition, Bischofite simply relinquished the bag into the rightful owner's grasp. "How can we follow Chaos when we refuse to subscribe to all its forms, in metaphysics and in philosophical practices? Entropy is an end result, Wölfchen. Yet... we keep denying it. On and on we fight, but for what? I don't want to protect anysing. Do you?"
Afterward he bit into the brownie, eyes closing momentarily in delight. He grunted in affirmation toward its palatable taste. "Quatsch, I forgot how delectable a good pastry could be. Zis whole..." He paused to swallow before continuing, gesturing in a circular fashion with his occupied hand. "Structural sing, it offers basic behavioral conditioning, but ze manner by which it manages such is actually counterintuitif'. Take you, for example. You fall into line, you pull ze starseeds of your enemies, you motivate zose beneas' you to drain energy. What do zey offer you in return? Paltry accolades. A 'good job, Wolfy'. But what does zat truly mean? Nossing. It's ineffectual conditioning. A friendly pat on ze back is an insult to ze amount of work you put into your station.
"Now sink about your brownies. It takes a certain amount of work to eat zem, ze calories involved to bring zem to your mous' and bite into it, et cetera. But ze reward received for completing ze action outweighs ze costs - a delicious taste, a refill of calories. Questionable nutritional values. Overall you find ze consumption of baked goods as a wors'y endeavor, else you wouldn't partake in zese damnably addicting little confections.
"But does ze Negaverse fulfill us for performing our duties to a T? For meting out brainless action on part of our superiors' orders? You tell me, Wolframite. What do you sink?" Primarily he used the invitation to speak as an excuse to devour the remainder of his stolen brownie. Still, he had little doubt that Wolframite offered an interesting viewpoint, especially given his current... Condition.
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Posted: Sun May 04, 2014 11:22 am
“You can’t reorder things around. Going against our own organization is a bit too far, and either way, we’d be punished in the end by Metalia. That thing can strip us of our power in a blink of a eye. I’ve been near that thing, where it’s all dark, and it’s like you can’t breathe. It’s like a billion generals shoved into one place. It’s crushing.” He shivered at the memory before he saw a hand shoot up and take his bag.
Surprised and worried he might not get a brownie again, he reached out before pulling his hands back. If…If Bischofite wanted a brownie, he could have one. “..you could ask.” He grumbled.
He nearly dropped the bag when it was given back to him, and once firmly clutched, he looked up at the General and wondered half of what he was talking about. He didn’t want to admit he dropped out of school and had to complete it online, and that most of the words were hard enough to understand in English that an accent just made them harder. He doubted he could follow it, but the last question had him hunching his shoulders. “There are plenty of things I want to protect.” Billy. Himself. Those he thought were worth it. The planet.
When Bis decided to use him as an example, Wolframite just sank a little bit more, not liking this dismantling of all his years of work. He had worked hard. He had done a lot and had risen in power. He had been a very good officer – but the moment he slipped up, he got punished. “I didn’t get a pat on the head.” He grumbled, wondering if he was facing denial or if there was a point in defending his previous station. “I worked hard and got power. I worked hard and lived though a lot of stuff and got to be a General.” But he wasn’t trusted. “I’d like to think people respected me.” But maybe they never did.
He now felt worse, and took another bite into a brownie.
Now sink about your brownies.
The lieutenant looked up, brow creased. Oh please, he didn’t’ want Bis talking about his brownies. They were the only good thing happening ot him at the moment.
And Bischofite did.
When asked what to think, he only bowed his head a little more. “I think you shouldn’t insult another person’s brownies when you liked them so much.”
He looked at the bag, frowning. They made him feel good. Okay, he knew they weren't good for him, but he liked them. Right now, they just helped the daily sting. He didn't want Bis to ruin brownies for him.
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Posted: Fri May 09, 2014 4:14 pm
"I'f seen her too, Wolframite. It's tantalizing to behold such power in one... nebulous entity. I wonder if Metallia is fully aware of ze ineptitude of her General-Kings and -Queens." Speaking treason around a demoted officer felt no different than groveling for punishment... Idly he wondered how long before his actions caught up with him. His death left no question, beyond whether he died for the cause or as a martyr.
Judging by his reactions, Wolframite held no interest in pursuing a similar course to his own.
"Asking sounds like an outmoded custom to me," he responded as he finished the remainder of the treat. "Am I to ask my enemies for ze blessing of killing zem? Should I ask to pull rank on you right now? Nature allows for no such complacencies." Afterward he eyed the bakery bag for some time, studying its crumpled folds as he considered usurping another brownie, but finally vetoed the idea. "Ze strong supersede ze weak. Even zat custom holds true from a societal standpoint - ze ancient Romans proved a strong society by subjugating many of ze surrounding lands, but ultimately ze Mongols proved stronger as zey decimated Rome. Is ze same not true for us, on an individual and expanded level?"
"How do you expect to protect anyone, anysing, when you cannot hinder me from stealing one of your brownies? How do you expect to fight ze enemy when se back to ze lowly rank of lieutenant? How can you expect to bow to officers zat demand your devotion as nossing more zan a drone? You're a strange one, Wolfy. I could never sink like you." In a mild gesture of platonic affection, Bischofite pulled at the band of the lieutenant's eye patch.
"I'm certain you'f lived srough a lot. Zat eye patch is telling." Standing up, Bischofite considered how best to approach his coming statement. Gold eyes searched yawning windows in the distance, fogged over with the humidity of late night that clung to their clothes and the air. "Even as equals, we were pawns wis' more power zan ze rest. Zey jerk us around wis' zese notions of command, of battle prowess, of our usefulness in training ozzers, but... I don't want to be a pawn forever. Do you? Or would you prefer to be a bishop, a rook? A knight? No - a horseman."
"Perhaps your true folly was zat you hadn't tried quite hard enough to bring down ze Dark Mirror Court." Head dipped slightly, Bischofite smiled toward those sightless windows.
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Posted: Fri May 09, 2014 5:19 pm
His brow creased and he found himself growing more and more upset with Bis with each thing he said. “You took my brownies and you are saying cause you’re stronger than me? You might have rank, but you’re not better than me, Bischofite? You can pull rank on me all you want, but if you are talking so much against the entire structure of how the NEgaverse works, then you’d just be making fun of it if you do. You don’t care about how it works. You sound like you want to be the king of it.” He wasn’t sure what Bis’ angle was, but he was talking outloud at Wolframite’s expense. He didn’t like being belittled in front of the officer and just taking it. He’d taken enough recently that he didn’t need to hear the lecture from another officer.
“And I wasn’t protecting you from my brownies. You surprised me, and if you wanted them, I’m not going to fight tooth and nail over a ******** brownie. I fight for what really matters.” The snap of the band made him rise up, and he glared at the officer as he held his head to make sure the eyepatch didn’t become loose from the little act.
“What is with you?! Are you just here to insult me? I already got that already, okay?! I don’t need you to point out that I’m a lieutenant and that I’m not the same rank and power that I used to be. I don’t need you to tell me I’ve been demoted and punished an sank down the ranks in reputation and in power.”
He gritted his teeth and set the brownies down to move to him and glare up at him. “Hey! I ******** fought hard for what I did. I didn’t see you do a damn thing. You sure TALK big about a lot of things and how you don’t want to be used or want things to change the way you want them to, but you aren’t doing anything about it. I’m already a knight. I was a knight when I become a Negaverse officer. I might not have armor, but I’m still here to fight for Earth. And Don’t you DARE start talking to me as if I didn’t fight hard enough against the DMC. If you had a better idea, I didn’t hear you during the meeting! So ******** You For even accusing me of that! Not when. – “
He gritted his teeth. “You’re all talk, you know that?!” He couldn’t believe Bis would go so far to say he just half-assed his fight against the DMC. He risked it all, and now he was poking and prodding him as if he should go harder. HOW?! He was Leto’s pet now. He couldn’t do anything against her right now. Everyone was watching and any ideas of ‘next time’ would have him dead in the ground or a youma.
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Posted: Sun May 11, 2014 6:39 am
Throughout Wolframite's tirade, a slow buildup of chuckles threatened to overtake his stoicism. How curious that he objects so vigorously to Bischofite's brand of logic... Not long into the speech, the general refrained from stifling his mirth any longer. A crooked smile split across his features, and in its wake came a series of whistling, quiet laughs. They seized in his shoulders just enough to send the feathers of his cape rippling slightly. Me, a king? I wonder if you've ever bothered to listen, beyond my placing your predicament into perspective. I'm not looking for a monarchy - I'm soliciting anarchy. Now if you'd said dictator, I might've given you points for effort; totalitarian governments function well enough. But what use have I for power? Power elicits predictability due to control.
I don't want control.
"Yes, yes, ******** me. ******** me indeed, Pup." Another fit of chuckles seized him while he shook his head. Oh, how good it felt to bask in the scorned fury of a general-c**-lieutenant... Idly he wondered if such an explosion endeared Wolframite to him all the more. Previously he found the general mildly interesting but easily dismissed. Now? Now he painted a target on his own back through tirades wholly misplaced in logic. "Perhaps you were a little preoccupied, but if you recall... I'd mentioned setting the entirety of ze warehouse alight. It provides ze opportunity to trap bos' Dark Mirror and White Moon alike - allowing us to teleport our lieutenants outside, and we'd simply surround ze burning wreckage to kill anyone who emerged. A cleaner messod of disposal to milling about wis'in some sawdust-laden shell of a building, I would say. But zat was a rhetorical question, nicht?"
With fingers steepled together, Bischofite proceeded to crack his knuckles backwards. "Oh, and let's not forget zat I pulled Sraen's starseed from his chest. I suspect you were too busy wis' your new Mistress to notice, however." Afterward he summoned weapons to grip, and a lazy swing toward his companion cut through the band of his eyepatch quite readily. In one fluid motion, the general both dismissed the pair of blades and usurped the patch, soon descending from the building to light on the ground below.
"But you're right, Wolframite!" He called back, a grin now readily apparent on his countenance. With each length of strap pinched between fingers, Bischofite pulled the straps behind his head to conform the patch to one of his own eyes. "I'f done nossing wis' my life, nossing to earn my rank if getting caught by our enemy and tortured from my ineptitude is your only means of evaluation! Soon, I will show you what it means to commit one's life to an endeavor - for anysing shorter is a half-measure, Wolframite! Your presence as a lieutenant is proof of zat!" Finished with his speech, he threw the patch with its cut straps into the storm drain at the edge of the street. Turning calmly away from the roiling ball of fury known as Wolframite, he aimed to leave at an even pace.
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