More FOTD
Flavor of the Day - 12/10/08 - Homologous with Hot Fudge
Rating : PG
Timeframe : late 1260's
Word Count : 516
Word of the Day : homologous - corresponding in position, proportion, structure, value, or other property
gee this was a popular word. it's been a rough day. this isn't as polished as I'd like, but I'd been waiting for a prompt to address this issue with.
“Seth?” Tristan pushed the door in just far enough to poke his head through. Relieved to find the man quietly seated at the table and no half rotted creatures writhing about the room, he let it swing the rest of the way and stepped inside.
“What is it?” said Sethan, without so much as a glance his way.
“I was headed to get dinner,” said Tristan, making his way to the parchment strewn work table. “Thought you might-” He stopped short as he peered over Sethan’s shoulder to find him up to his wrists in a bowl of something pink and gelatinous. “What is that?” The words fell from him before he had the sense to stop them.
“Skin," came the reply. Sethan lifted a hand from the bowl and frowned at the pink ooze that dripped from his fingers. “Or at least it was supposed to be.”
His stomach lurching, Tristan turned away. “I thought you people liked using the real thing.”
“The real thing is far too temporary.” He nodded at the table. Tristan risked a glance back and noticed, for the first time, that there was a chunk of flesh beside the bowl. What sort and where it had come from, he knew better than to ask. “Wood and silk are more durable,” Sethan continued. “But neither as functional.” He paused as if waiting for some response, but Tristan was lost as to what he might want him to say.
Sethan sighed and scraped his hands on the rim of the bowl. “Energy itself can keep anything in motion a short while, however poor the design.” He flicked his fingers at a pile of debris in the corner, and a solitary board righted itself and bounced across the floor in what had somehow become an all too familiar display. “Sustainability requires something more.” Another gesture brought the thing clattering to a halt.
Tristan‘s eyes slowly wandered back from the plank to the bowl. “So you’re hoping this… slop… will be easier to put life into?”
“Oh, no,” said Sethan. “Not at all. In fact, the further removed from living tissue one gets the harder it is to animate an object.“ He scooped up the chunk of flesh in one hand. “But dead tissue is, well, dead.” He let it fall against the scattered parchment with a sickening thud. “It’s lacking the elements it once had. Replacing one may make it move, but it doesn’t truly make it alive.”
“So you’re starting fresh,” Tristan said, trying not to look at the pink stain that seeped across the paper.
“Right,” said Sethan, his attention back on the bowl. “This, slop as you call it, contains all the elements of living tissue.“ He prodded the contents thoughtfully with one long finger. “If only I could get the balance right.”
Tristan followed his gaze over the sigil covered papers strewn about the table. “I think you’re overstepping your powers on this one.”
A sticky hand waved in dismissal. “Nonsense. I simply need more practice.”
Tristan shrugged. “Well, you enjoy your slop. I’m off to find some dinner.”
Rating : PG
Timeframe : late 1260's
Word Count : 516
Word of the Day : homologous - corresponding in position, proportion, structure, value, or other property
gee this was a popular word. it's been a rough day. this isn't as polished as I'd like, but I'd been waiting for a prompt to address this issue with.
“Seth?” Tristan pushed the door in just far enough to poke his head through. Relieved to find the man quietly seated at the table and no half rotted creatures writhing about the room, he let it swing the rest of the way and stepped inside.
“What is it?” said Sethan, without so much as a glance his way.
“I was headed to get dinner,” said Tristan, making his way to the parchment strewn work table. “Thought you might-” He stopped short as he peered over Sethan’s shoulder to find him up to his wrists in a bowl of something pink and gelatinous. “What is that?” The words fell from him before he had the sense to stop them.
“Skin," came the reply. Sethan lifted a hand from the bowl and frowned at the pink ooze that dripped from his fingers. “Or at least it was supposed to be.”
His stomach lurching, Tristan turned away. “I thought you people liked using the real thing.”
“The real thing is far too temporary.” He nodded at the table. Tristan risked a glance back and noticed, for the first time, that there was a chunk of flesh beside the bowl. What sort and where it had come from, he knew better than to ask. “Wood and silk are more durable,” Sethan continued. “But neither as functional.” He paused as if waiting for some response, but Tristan was lost as to what he might want him to say.
Sethan sighed and scraped his hands on the rim of the bowl. “Energy itself can keep anything in motion a short while, however poor the design.” He flicked his fingers at a pile of debris in the corner, and a solitary board righted itself and bounced across the floor in what had somehow become an all too familiar display. “Sustainability requires something more.” Another gesture brought the thing clattering to a halt.
Tristan‘s eyes slowly wandered back from the plank to the bowl. “So you’re hoping this… slop… will be easier to put life into?”
“Oh, no,” said Sethan. “Not at all. In fact, the further removed from living tissue one gets the harder it is to animate an object.“ He scooped up the chunk of flesh in one hand. “But dead tissue is, well, dead.” He let it fall against the scattered parchment with a sickening thud. “It’s lacking the elements it once had. Replacing one may make it move, but it doesn’t truly make it alive.”
“So you’re starting fresh,” Tristan said, trying not to look at the pink stain that seeped across the paper.
“Right,” said Sethan, his attention back on the bowl. “This, slop as you call it, contains all the elements of living tissue.“ He prodded the contents thoughtfully with one long finger. “If only I could get the balance right.”
Tristan followed his gaze over the sigil covered papers strewn about the table. “I think you’re overstepping your powers on this one.”
A sticky hand waved in dismissal. “Nonsense. I simply need more practice.”
Tristan shrugged. “Well, you enjoy your slop. I’m off to find some dinner.”