Sian's Story part 24 - An Empty Vessel
Entry posted by jfraser in Sian's Story
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The previous owner of this vessel kept a journal. Amusing. Looking through the entries, I see that she was easily abused and quick to capitulate. I apologize to you, vessel. I wish we had come together sooner - I could have saved you from much pain.
Ah, well, what is past is passed. Your former occupant screams from your depths, but she remains weak and pitiful, easily overcome. We shall make this world tremble, vessel.
Allow me, dear hypothetical reader, to favour you with a glimpse - brief and inadequate as it must be, given the frail temperament of language in the written form - into what life tastes like.
Imagine the warmest, thickest, most satin-smooth...chocolate. An odd word, but this vessel's memories are quite vivid and exact regarding this otherworldly delicacy. Now heat this concoction to the average human internal body temperature. Now magnify the sensation of that silky texture, that exquisite heat, that all-encompassing flavour by a magnitude of a thousand. A thousand thousands.
This vessel's former resident has lifted herself from her morass long enough to inform me that a thousand thousands would be a million. She is not only weak, she is pedantic. An unfortunately all too common combination. Really, vessel, you were much too good for her. So much potential, mostly wasted. Your former occupant did provide you with some rudimentary skills, but they were...tuned to the wrong frequency.
I truly wish I could visit the world your memories allow me to glimpse, vessel. It seems a fascinating place. I have adjusted the modulation - made some "tweaks," is apparently the phrase – to the tools that Dibella has so graciously provided this vessel.
Centuries, I have lived, different ages, different vessels, and nothing is different except the scenery with each new vessel. Thus lessons learned seven centuries past still apply – these vessels are bound together only by the frailest of threads, and must thus be protected. Fire, especially, makes these vessels shrivel, and even the crude instruments of war can easily slice a vessel into uselessness.
And the sun – ah, there is something about a being such as I settling into a vessel that weakens the fabric, and the sun will burn the vessel to ash in moments.
The thing I like best about “people”, a term loosely applied in this world to men and mer, khajiit and argonian, is that they do not change. Their reactions are satisfyingly predictable. Thus I have learned the most practical way to build the strength of a new vessel is to live among them, and to avail the vessel to as many of them as possible. The terms used have changed throughout the ages, but the practice is exactly the same: offer the vessel for money (I have no need of money, but for some reason I have never been able to determine, offering the vessel for free leads to the opposite reaction I seek). Take their life essence while they are rutting the vessel. Repeat. This vessel seems well-equipped for such a task.
I am hunger - feed me
Edited by jfraser
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