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Cinnamon Swirl #14. The Weakest Link with Hot Fudge and Malt
Story : knights & necromancers
Rating : PG (though I warn you it is full of squishy, gooey nasty stuff)
Timeframe : 1260's
Word Count : 1090
Malt Prompt : (birthday prompt from Lady Macbeth) "The harder you work, the harder it is to surrender" -Vince Lombardi
Sethan was crouched on the floor, beside an all too human shaped form beneath a sheet. On the other side of the body, Reida eagerly plucked at the edges of the cloth, trying to catch a peek beneath it.
Sethan waved her hands away. “Ready?” he said, cocking his head to look up at Tristan. Without waiting for an answer, he whisked the cloth away.
Tristan put a hand to his mouth and swallowed hard as he felt the bile rise into his throat. The construct spread across the web of rings looked like nothing so much as a life-sized, human-shaped gelatin mold cast in wobbly pink goo. Even Reida had gone from grinning like a fool to turning a bit green as she stared at it, and she edged slowly away from the thing.
“How,” said Tristan, when he thought he’d found breath enough to speak. “How does it even stand up?”
Sethan shot him a disbelieving look. “The whole thing is magic, you know.”
“It looks more like dessert gone horribly wrong,” said Reida, and Tristan was glad he wasn’t the only one that thought so.
The pink was translucent, with the thick, dark masses of fabricated organs suspended in it; lungs, liver, stomach, a sinewy lump of red heart in the breast, bound to a spray of tubes that wound their way out into the thing’s arms and legs. The bones were all in place, the only authentic part of the whole mess, and all from one body. Tristan had watched Sethan animate the skeleton at least a dozen times. He was bent on getting this right.
“Laugh all you like,” said Sethan. “It will work.” He reached out to adjust the placement of one of the hands. The pink fingers rippled at his touch, and he frowned. “Perhaps not this one, but eventually it will work.”
Reida snorted at that. “Eventually,” she repeated.
“Well, it is the last piece,” said Tristan. “We can take our time with this now, since we’re not looking-” He realized Sethan was staring at him and fell silent.
Reida shot a toothy grin first at Tristan and then at Sethan , who was suddenly engrossed with the wobbly synthetic fingers, and laughed. “Found the gateway, did you?” she said, and suddenly Tristan felt very stupid.
“Perhaps,” said Sethan, still staring at the hand.
“Perhaps, my ass.” Reida picked up the other hand. She pressed a thumb to the surface and watched it slowly bounce back. “Cheva’s not going to stand for this, you know.”
“I’m not putting her in it,” said Sethan, spreading the first hand on the floor. “This is merely a test.”
Reida dropped the hand onto the floor, and Tristan tried to tell himself it didn’t make a splat as it hit the stone. “Alright,” she said, with a wave at the body. “Test away.”
With a shake of his head, Sethan spread his hands along the rim of the center ring. The form began to glow, and one by one the smaller sigils within flared as well and Tristan found himself holding his breath. A ripple ran through the gelatinous figure on the floor, from its toes to its chin, and the sight sent a shudder up Tristan’s spine. The construct lifted one hand with a sharp jerk and then the other and Reida let out a short choke of a laugh that told him she’d been holding her breath as well. The hands drooped, the wrists straining to support the weight of their pink casing. The fingers swayed, looking for a moment as if they might fall right off. There was a collective sigh of relief when the thing put both hands back to the floor still intact.
The construct then yanked a foot back, raising its knee in a stiff peak. It stayed there for a long moment, air flowing in and out of its synthetic lungs with a constant soft rattle. Then, like any good demon, it tried to leap straight from the floor to its feet. Tried, because as its torso left the floor, all those dark mounds of tissue wobbled and swayed for all of a breath before they went plummeting right through their gloppy pink surroundings. In a horrible, slimy avalanche of artificial flesh, every organ in the thing went sliding through caveties between the bones, and exiting the body with a series of sickening squelches and splats. Tristan turned away quickly, his hand back over his mouth, as the whole thing came tumbling down into a quivering, wet mess of pink.
There was a horrible splash and a clatter of bones on the stone. Reida was laughing now, that hearty cackle of hers that always emerged at someone else’s misfortune, and when he turned back Tristan was glad to not have gotten close to the thing as it seemed a spray of thick pink chunks had landed on Sethan.
“Cheva is most definitely not going to go for that at all,” said Reida, still laughing as she flicked a bit of the ooze off her skirt.
“It would seem it needs a bit more strength,” Sethan said, calmly scraping the splatter from his arms.
Reida snorted. “Seems your pink stuff isn’t quite the miracle you thought it was.”
Tristan edged a bit closer to examine the jumble of parts that no longer even vaguely resembled a human form. “It worked when it was just the goo,” he said. “When you did it with the rat. Maybe the organs are too heavy?”
Sethan wrinkled his nose as he pulled more of the stuff from his hair and tossed it at the pile. Tristan cringed as it landed with a soft patter. “Or maybe the body is too large.”
Reida snickered. “You should just stick her in a rat, Sethan. She’ll love that.” Both men shot her glares that only made her grin even wider.
“You know,” said Tristan, reaching down to finger a femur that jutted up from the collection. Bits of pink clung to it in little, spongy globs. He picked one off and knocked it into the pile. “I would have thought you’d be full of questions about the gateway.”
She laughed again, and Sethan studied her with narrowed eyes. “Who says there’s anything I need to ask?” she said. “Lovely place, the gateway. Toasty.” She frowned at the construct’s remains. “You know, I think muscle is what you’re lacking.”
Sethan sighed and picked more goo off himself. "Then the next one will have to have muscles, won't it?"
Story : knights & necromancers
Rating : PG (though I warn you it is full of squishy, gooey nasty stuff)
Timeframe : 1260's
Word Count : 1090
Malt Prompt : (birthday prompt from Lady Macbeth) "The harder you work, the harder it is to surrender" -Vince Lombardi
Sethan was crouched on the floor, beside an all too human shaped form beneath a sheet. On the other side of the body, Reida eagerly plucked at the edges of the cloth, trying to catch a peek beneath it.
Sethan waved her hands away. “Ready?” he said, cocking his head to look up at Tristan. Without waiting for an answer, he whisked the cloth away.
Tristan put a hand to his mouth and swallowed hard as he felt the bile rise into his throat. The construct spread across the web of rings looked like nothing so much as a life-sized, human-shaped gelatin mold cast in wobbly pink goo. Even Reida had gone from grinning like a fool to turning a bit green as she stared at it, and she edged slowly away from the thing.
“How,” said Tristan, when he thought he’d found breath enough to speak. “How does it even stand up?”
Sethan shot him a disbelieving look. “The whole thing is magic, you know.”
“It looks more like dessert gone horribly wrong,” said Reida, and Tristan was glad he wasn’t the only one that thought so.
The pink was translucent, with the thick, dark masses of fabricated organs suspended in it; lungs, liver, stomach, a sinewy lump of red heart in the breast, bound to a spray of tubes that wound their way out into the thing’s arms and legs. The bones were all in place, the only authentic part of the whole mess, and all from one body. Tristan had watched Sethan animate the skeleton at least a dozen times. He was bent on getting this right.
“Laugh all you like,” said Sethan. “It will work.” He reached out to adjust the placement of one of the hands. The pink fingers rippled at his touch, and he frowned. “Perhaps not this one, but eventually it will work.”
Reida snorted at that. “Eventually,” she repeated.
“Well, it is the last piece,” said Tristan. “We can take our time with this now, since we’re not looking-” He realized Sethan was staring at him and fell silent.
Reida shot a toothy grin first at Tristan and then at Sethan , who was suddenly engrossed with the wobbly synthetic fingers, and laughed. “Found the gateway, did you?” she said, and suddenly Tristan felt very stupid.
“Perhaps,” said Sethan, still staring at the hand.
“Perhaps, my ass.” Reida picked up the other hand. She pressed a thumb to the surface and watched it slowly bounce back. “Cheva’s not going to stand for this, you know.”
“I’m not putting her in it,” said Sethan, spreading the first hand on the floor. “This is merely a test.”
Reida dropped the hand onto the floor, and Tristan tried to tell himself it didn’t make a splat as it hit the stone. “Alright,” she said, with a wave at the body. “Test away.”
With a shake of his head, Sethan spread his hands along the rim of the center ring. The form began to glow, and one by one the smaller sigils within flared as well and Tristan found himself holding his breath. A ripple ran through the gelatinous figure on the floor, from its toes to its chin, and the sight sent a shudder up Tristan’s spine. The construct lifted one hand with a sharp jerk and then the other and Reida let out a short choke of a laugh that told him she’d been holding her breath as well. The hands drooped, the wrists straining to support the weight of their pink casing. The fingers swayed, looking for a moment as if they might fall right off. There was a collective sigh of relief when the thing put both hands back to the floor still intact.
The construct then yanked a foot back, raising its knee in a stiff peak. It stayed there for a long moment, air flowing in and out of its synthetic lungs with a constant soft rattle. Then, like any good demon, it tried to leap straight from the floor to its feet. Tried, because as its torso left the floor, all those dark mounds of tissue wobbled and swayed for all of a breath before they went plummeting right through their gloppy pink surroundings. In a horrible, slimy avalanche of artificial flesh, every organ in the thing went sliding through caveties between the bones, and exiting the body with a series of sickening squelches and splats. Tristan turned away quickly, his hand back over his mouth, as the whole thing came tumbling down into a quivering, wet mess of pink.
There was a horrible splash and a clatter of bones on the stone. Reida was laughing now, that hearty cackle of hers that always emerged at someone else’s misfortune, and when he turned back Tristan was glad to not have gotten close to the thing as it seemed a spray of thick pink chunks had landed on Sethan.
“Cheva is most definitely not going to go for that at all,” said Reida, still laughing as she flicked a bit of the ooze off her skirt.
“It would seem it needs a bit more strength,” Sethan said, calmly scraping the splatter from his arms.
Reida snorted. “Seems your pink stuff isn’t quite the miracle you thought it was.”
Tristan edged a bit closer to examine the jumble of parts that no longer even vaguely resembled a human form. “It worked when it was just the goo,” he said. “When you did it with the rat. Maybe the organs are too heavy?”
Sethan wrinkled his nose as he pulled more of the stuff from his hair and tossed it at the pile. Tristan cringed as it landed with a soft patter. “Or maybe the body is too large.”
Reida snickered. “You should just stick her in a rat, Sethan. She’ll love that.” Both men shot her glares that only made her grin even wider.
“You know,” said Tristan, reaching down to finger a femur that jutted up from the collection. Bits of pink clung to it in little, spongy globs. He picked one off and knocked it into the pile. “I would have thought you’d be full of questions about the gateway.”
She laughed again, and Sethan studied her with narrowed eyes. “Who says there’s anything I need to ask?” she said. “Lovely place, the gateway. Toasty.” She frowned at the construct’s remains. “You know, I think muscle is what you’re lacking.”
Sethan sighed and picked more goo off himself. "Then the next one will have to have muscles, won't it?"