6th Cycle/147th Hour/112 Hybrid-Era
I remember one distinctive part of my natural cognition: the last smell I ever had, the smell of that god forsaken incense. The odor was altogether intrusive; it was like that of tar and twice over molded cheese. And no matter how much you tried to force it away, to exhale so strongly what might deter the lingering particles, it clung to you – your hair, your skin…
I could feel the frown carved into my face, my nose wrinkled and my brow furrowed deep, shadowing my coarse brown eyes. The whole process started with me being derobed, completely nude, before I was bid to sit still, my legs crossed underneath me and my palms up turned. Then I was made to endure the half-hinged ramblings of a maddened alchemist, prancing around me waving an incense to and fro about my naked skin. And so I sat silently, but watched carefully, as he graced around me, his shaved head and metallic arms reflecting the flickering green of slow burning tapestry.
And the longer I watched him the more I wanted to scream. To lash out and and take away his glee. I beleived it foolishness, every ounce of it, some ploy against me – against my people.
I had signed up for power. Something to make my people great, something to win this war. I had volunteered to be the first subject of a protoype treatment, forfieted my life to my people’s cause and put my trust in our scientists. But that? Ritualism? Spirit revering magicks? To the nether with that!
But it was too late…
No sooner had I made up my mind to rise to my feet and speak my opinion did a crippling pain take my entrails. My stomache burned and twisted within me with such intensity what caused me to bend inward upon myself, my forehead pressing to the smoothed cold flooring and my dusty brown hair collapsing around me.
The pain only became worse from there, eventually drawing me to reel back as if strecthing a cramp long overdue. When I opened my eyes I noticed a bucket before me…yet I had no reculection of anyone approaching. I could hear no chanting. I turned my eyes to my concerned comraders swarming me and I could hear no plea only their mouths moving: was I alright? My hearing had gone.
One or the other pushed me too far. I snatched the bucket from the ground and held it up to my face just in time to capture the dragging moments of my body purging every fragment of what I held inside of my form. Even my insides felt like they were being torn from within me, made fodder which I no longer required. I blacked out before it all ended.
My screams woke me. My arms, my legs, my chest and my head; everything screamed as though I was swimming in acid. I thrashed, begging, fighting, but the world would not give; my body would not move. I knew not if I was laying flat or standing, or simply floating listlessely in an indefinite space. Yet, something stood out before me, straight ahead mimicking me. A massive suit of armor, human in its shape. Plate upon plate of rough crystalline shards glowing in flux, segmented, with the struggles of my mind. A new form to control. Far greater than any trapping of our known world.
Daily Prompt: Construct
Word of the Day: faustian