But not once did he scream. Horrified? Only once. When she began opening up his skull and proding his mind. His head was always an important thing for him, human or cueball. It was his center, his identifier and where he safely guarded his Master for over centuries until the clock struck zero. He was thankful to know that the Lord was not bonded to him in advance, otherwise he would be in a far greater panic over her cracking it.
That did not change what she did. If he was in a more proper state of mind, he would call it clever. A twisted sort of clever, with how she seemed to almost personalize each experiment in some manner. Maybe give her a 'touche' or a nod of recognition. He doubts she would care, but right now? He doubted everything. So much of his motor skills felt like they slipped away. Not the normal ones, like how to walk or how to talk, but the ones more specific to him. How to rend the space of the universe around him and summons the warm flames of the Green Sun into his hands. He could feel the sun and yet not recall how to summon it into his palms. Something he has known to do since he began existing.
And now he lays slumped in the gurney, wearily glancing at everyone he can see through his blurry vision, without saying a word. What were they thinking? He didn't know. His omniscience was too limited to tell. But, he knew what he was thinking. And he was sure that everyone could hear. That, without saying a word, he could spill out millions of his thoughts. Yet, as he tried to silence his mind and thought, he felt himself ready to fall asleep. Everything in his mind (they can all hear you, shut up already!) was telling him to not. That sleeping could lead to something horrible. He didn't sleep during the surgery, so why sleep after it? Only a fool would fall asleep right now, when they are the most vulnerable!
...Still, he closed his eyes and tried to count in his mind (everyone hears--) and tries to relax. Try being the keyword. And yet he feels that his mind is so loud, so horrifically loud that it may just be easier to count out the numbers. That maybe it would empty the thoughts that everyone can so clearly hear if he just says them himself.]
One....Two....Three....Four....Five--
[He continues to count from there, letting out a number every few seconds. His voice is not at a normal level of sound at all, but it is not quite a whisper. Just enough so that maybe the sound of his voice can distract from the sound of his thoughts]
no subject
But not once did he scream. Horrified? Only once. When she began opening up his skull and proding his mind. His head was always an important thing for him, human or cueball. It was his center, his identifier and where he safely guarded his Master for over centuries until the clock struck zero. He was thankful to know that the Lord was not bonded to him in advance, otherwise he would be in a far greater panic over her cracking it.
That did not change what she did. If he was in a more proper state of mind, he would call it clever. A twisted sort of clever, with how she seemed to almost personalize each experiment in some manner. Maybe give her a 'touche' or a nod of recognition. He doubts she would care, but right now? He doubted everything. So much of his motor skills felt like they slipped away. Not the normal ones, like how to walk or how to talk, but the ones more specific to him. How to rend the space of the universe around him and summons the warm flames of the Green Sun into his hands. He could feel the sun and yet not recall how to summon it into his palms. Something he has known to do since he began existing.
And now he lays slumped in the gurney, wearily glancing at everyone he can see through his blurry vision, without saying a word. What were they thinking? He didn't know. His omniscience was too limited to tell. But, he knew what he was thinking. And he was sure that everyone could hear. That, without saying a word, he could spill out millions of his thoughts. Yet, as he tried to silence his mind and thought, he felt himself ready to fall asleep. Everything in his mind (they can all hear you, shut up already!) was telling him to not. That sleeping could lead to something horrible. He didn't sleep during the surgery, so why sleep after it? Only a fool would fall asleep right now, when they are the most vulnerable!
...Still, he closed his eyes and tried to count in his mind (everyone hears--) and tries to relax. Try being the keyword. And yet he feels that his mind is so loud, so horrifically loud that it may just be easier to count out the numbers. That maybe it would empty the thoughts that everyone can so clearly hear if he just says them himself.]
One....Two....Three....Four....Five--
[He continues to count from there, letting out a number every few seconds. His voice is not at a normal level of sound at all, but it is not quite a whisper. Just enough so that maybe the sound of his voice can distract from the sound of his thoughts]