(no subject)
Title: Coin-Operated Girl
Themes: Madness, Replacement Goldfish
Summary: Before Tabatha's programming was complete, before they realized she could never contain Martel's soul, Mithos got rather attached to his doll.
“Yuan! Yuan, did you hear?!” Mithos came bounding into Yuan's quarters, more excited than his fellow Seraph had seen him since before Martel was taken from them.
Yuan turned calmly to face him. “I haven't. What is it, Mithos?”
“I told you, I want to be Lord Yggdrasill now,” the boy pouted. But it didn't last for long. “I guess you can call me Mithos when it's only us, though. Anyway! The dwarves think they can build a body for Martel!”
That got Yuan's attention. “Then we won't need a living vessel? That is good news, there have been problems with obedience among the population.”
“Oh, I have some ideas for that, too,” Mithos nodded. “But first you have to come see! They've already got her walking around, Kratos is down there now!”
It was a quick teleport trip to the labs of Derris-Kharlan, where Dwarven engineers and scientists were always working on new uses of Hi-Exspheres, and ways to bring Martel back to life. There, a surprisingly realistic doll was sitting in a chair, eyes blank and face neutral.
“...She looks just like Martel,” Yuan said approvingly. “I assume the soul transfer hasn't occurred yet?”
“No, sir,” one of the dwarves confirmed. “The programming isn't ready to accept her. We've only just enabled speech functions.”
“Really?” Mithos' eyes grew wider still. He turned to the doll. “Say my name!”
The doll's head turned toward him, a little stiffly, and it paused for a moment to process data. “YOU ARE...LORD YGGDRASILL.” Her voice, though lifeless, was as eerie a replica of Martel's as her face.
“No!” Mithos stomped his foot. “You have to call me Mithos!”
“VERY WELL...MITHOS.”
“And smile at me when you say it! Like this!” Mithos smiled, to show her, and the doll mimicked his expression. “Yeah!” He dashed forward and hugged her.
Yuan turned to Kratos, who was watching as stoically as ever. “It's good to see him happy about something again,” he observed.
“Indeed,” Kratos replied, still watching the scene with half-hidden eyes. “...And yourself?”
Yuan turned away a bit. “I'll be happy if they actually manage to get Martel's soul in that thing. Until then, it's just a doll, however much it looks like her.”
“Of course.” Was it just Yuan, or was there some relief in that?
He must be imagining things.
----
Months passed, as the dwarves riddled out the arcane formulas and connections that would hopefully allow a living soul to pass into a mechanical being. There had been a few failed tries, but the outlook for the program was still optimistic. “We just hafta get the right configuration,” Orgil assured them, and the Seraphim accepted this answer.
Whenever she wasn't needed for testing, though, Mithos could be found dragging the doll around with him like a security blanket. He'd taught her simple tricks, which the older Seraphim could see were no more than parroted reactions. But Mithos didn't seem to notice, or at least to care, as long as he could hear Martel's voice say she loved him. He'd even taken to calling her 'sister'. 'After all,' he'd explained to them, 'she'll be really Martel soon. So we ought to get used to her!'
Yuan tended to avoid them. Although he knew it was for the best in the long run, something about the doll made his stomach turn oddly, despite the fact that he hadn't eaten in years.
So it was Kratos who was called by a security alarm to Mithos' quarters one day, the system registering severe equipment and structural malfunctions in that area. Even down the corridor, he could hear explosions, and his wings flew him down the length of the hall, just in time to see Mithos blow his own door off its nonexistent hinges.
“She's gone, Kratos!” he shouted, an odd light in his eyes. “They took her from me! I want Martel back!”
“I'm sure they only needed her for testing, Mithos. Calm down.” Kratos tried to reason with him.
“They didn't ask me! I didn't say they could have her back, she's mine!” And with that, Mithos vanished in a puff of feathers. Moments later, the alarm changed, indicating an assault on the labs.
By the time Yuan arrived to investigate, Kratos was helping the dwarves put out fires, while Mithos cuddled his doll, apparently oblivious to the surrounding destruction.
“Are you okay, Martel?” he asked her gently. “They didn't hurt you, right?”
“I AM WELL, MITHOS.”
“Good!” He sighed happily. “If they take you away again, I'll just keep coming to save you.”
“MITHOS...SAVED ME?” There was something oddly alive about the inquisitive tilt of the doll's head.
“Of course I did!” Mithos grinned at her. “And I always will, okay?”
“...O-KAY. ...I LOVE YOU, MITHOS.” And the spark of life was gone, replaced by the rehearsed words he'd taught it.
Yuan turned on his heel, suddenly overcome with disgust. The dwarves knew their business, they could clean up the mess Mithos had left. For his part, he knew he would never be able to stand the presence of that damned imitation. Not until it contained Martel's soul as much as her voice.
Themes: Madness, Replacement Goldfish
Summary: Before Tabatha's programming was complete, before they realized she could never contain Martel's soul, Mithos got rather attached to his doll.
“Yuan! Yuan, did you hear?!” Mithos came bounding into Yuan's quarters, more excited than his fellow Seraph had seen him since before Martel was taken from them.
Yuan turned calmly to face him. “I haven't. What is it, Mithos?”
“I told you, I want to be Lord Yggdrasill now,” the boy pouted. But it didn't last for long. “I guess you can call me Mithos when it's only us, though. Anyway! The dwarves think they can build a body for Martel!”
That got Yuan's attention. “Then we won't need a living vessel? That is good news, there have been problems with obedience among the population.”
“Oh, I have some ideas for that, too,” Mithos nodded. “But first you have to come see! They've already got her walking around, Kratos is down there now!”
It was a quick teleport trip to the labs of Derris-Kharlan, where Dwarven engineers and scientists were always working on new uses of Hi-Exspheres, and ways to bring Martel back to life. There, a surprisingly realistic doll was sitting in a chair, eyes blank and face neutral.
“...She looks just like Martel,” Yuan said approvingly. “I assume the soul transfer hasn't occurred yet?”
“No, sir,” one of the dwarves confirmed. “The programming isn't ready to accept her. We've only just enabled speech functions.”
“Really?” Mithos' eyes grew wider still. He turned to the doll. “Say my name!”
The doll's head turned toward him, a little stiffly, and it paused for a moment to process data. “YOU ARE...LORD YGGDRASILL.” Her voice, though lifeless, was as eerie a replica of Martel's as her face.
“No!” Mithos stomped his foot. “You have to call me Mithos!”
“VERY WELL...MITHOS.”
“And smile at me when you say it! Like this!” Mithos smiled, to show her, and the doll mimicked his expression. “Yeah!” He dashed forward and hugged her.
Yuan turned to Kratos, who was watching as stoically as ever. “It's good to see him happy about something again,” he observed.
“Indeed,” Kratos replied, still watching the scene with half-hidden eyes. “...And yourself?”
Yuan turned away a bit. “I'll be happy if they actually manage to get Martel's soul in that thing. Until then, it's just a doll, however much it looks like her.”
“Of course.” Was it just Yuan, or was there some relief in that?
He must be imagining things.
----
Months passed, as the dwarves riddled out the arcane formulas and connections that would hopefully allow a living soul to pass into a mechanical being. There had been a few failed tries, but the outlook for the program was still optimistic. “We just hafta get the right configuration,” Orgil assured them, and the Seraphim accepted this answer.
Whenever she wasn't needed for testing, though, Mithos could be found dragging the doll around with him like a security blanket. He'd taught her simple tricks, which the older Seraphim could see were no more than parroted reactions. But Mithos didn't seem to notice, or at least to care, as long as he could hear Martel's voice say she loved him. He'd even taken to calling her 'sister'. 'After all,' he'd explained to them, 'she'll be really Martel soon. So we ought to get used to her!'
Yuan tended to avoid them. Although he knew it was for the best in the long run, something about the doll made his stomach turn oddly, despite the fact that he hadn't eaten in years.
So it was Kratos who was called by a security alarm to Mithos' quarters one day, the system registering severe equipment and structural malfunctions in that area. Even down the corridor, he could hear explosions, and his wings flew him down the length of the hall, just in time to see Mithos blow his own door off its nonexistent hinges.
“She's gone, Kratos!” he shouted, an odd light in his eyes. “They took her from me! I want Martel back!”
“I'm sure they only needed her for testing, Mithos. Calm down.” Kratos tried to reason with him.
“They didn't ask me! I didn't say they could have her back, she's mine!” And with that, Mithos vanished in a puff of feathers. Moments later, the alarm changed, indicating an assault on the labs.
By the time Yuan arrived to investigate, Kratos was helping the dwarves put out fires, while Mithos cuddled his doll, apparently oblivious to the surrounding destruction.
“Are you okay, Martel?” he asked her gently. “They didn't hurt you, right?”
“I AM WELL, MITHOS.”
“Good!” He sighed happily. “If they take you away again, I'll just keep coming to save you.”
“MITHOS...SAVED ME?” There was something oddly alive about the inquisitive tilt of the doll's head.
“Of course I did!” Mithos grinned at her. “And I always will, okay?”
“...O-KAY. ...I LOVE YOU, MITHOS.” And the spark of life was gone, replaced by the rehearsed words he'd taught it.
Yuan turned on his heel, suddenly overcome with disgust. The dwarves knew their business, they could clean up the mess Mithos had left. For his part, he knew he would never be able to stand the presence of that damned imitation. Not until it contained Martel's soul as much as her voice.