Post by Munin on Sept 19, 2016 14:37:56 GMT -5
Munin approached the signature suns of spiritual beings, as it walked through the fabric of the far realm like a brick. Perhaps it was curiosity that had brought Munin to its destination today, or perhaps it was something far more exotic. Regimented steps carried it to the shrine, the distended signatures within drawing it closer and closer. Perhaps it was Munin’s moth-like curiosity that brought it to the two cats that flanked the entrance, and perhaps it was some kind of interest that caused it to purse its lips and narrow its eyes at the useless carvings. They looked so curious, sitting there with painted eyes. The dolls would never move without another’s touch. This was truth: that they were lesser than any being.
Munin’s reason drew it away, glancing over and staring out into the shrine. Possibilities arrived, the potential of calling out to those within and getting them to show what was within; the potential of simply walking in and potentially endangering itself. After all, whoever or whatever lived here at some power. They’d managed to craft whatever was within this temple, or perhaps this was something that they tended to. They were not a fixed truth yet: they could be anything from unawakened humans to the zenith of human potential. Or perhaps they could be something other than human entirely? That truth still escaped it.
Steps brought Munin closer to the tree-like things that were scattered within the shrine. They glowed with a brilliant white light, at least in Munin’s enhanced vision. Their physical aspect was dull, simply carefully curated plants that were well managed. But here on the spiritual plane they almost seemed alive. If it wasn’t for the lack of movement, and lack of detectable intelligence, Munin would have assumed that the thing was alive. Was that the distinction between Munin and the tree then? The android paused, staring into the white sun with a blank face. Munin moved, and Munin spoke. That was a truth: that it was ‘better’ as a being than the plant. It had those capacities, and it obeyed its own will.
But was that really a truth? The android stood, turning absentmindedly in circles. It scanned the world, looking for objects, for people, for anything of note. But then: why did Munin do that? Did it really think of that? INTROSPECTION awoke, and dove into Munin’s heart. What made this being tick? What made this being real? Was it truly its own? Could it be its own?
But lo, a being approached, and Munin turned to speak to it. Green eyes would stare and watch, standing there and cataloging it, claiming ownership of that image.
Munin’s reason drew it away, glancing over and staring out into the shrine. Possibilities arrived, the potential of calling out to those within and getting them to show what was within; the potential of simply walking in and potentially endangering itself. After all, whoever or whatever lived here at some power. They’d managed to craft whatever was within this temple, or perhaps this was something that they tended to. They were not a fixed truth yet: they could be anything from unawakened humans to the zenith of human potential. Or perhaps they could be something other than human entirely? That truth still escaped it.
Steps brought Munin closer to the tree-like things that were scattered within the shrine. They glowed with a brilliant white light, at least in Munin’s enhanced vision. Their physical aspect was dull, simply carefully curated plants that were well managed. But here on the spiritual plane they almost seemed alive. If it wasn’t for the lack of movement, and lack of detectable intelligence, Munin would have assumed that the thing was alive. Was that the distinction between Munin and the tree then? The android paused, staring into the white sun with a blank face. Munin moved, and Munin spoke. That was a truth: that it was ‘better’ as a being than the plant. It had those capacities, and it obeyed its own will.
But was that really a truth? The android stood, turning absentmindedly in circles. It scanned the world, looking for objects, for people, for anything of note. But then: why did Munin do that? Did it really think of that? INTROSPECTION awoke, and dove into Munin’s heart. What made this being tick? What made this being real? Was it truly its own? Could it be its own?
But lo, a being approached, and Munin turned to speak to it. Green eyes would stare and watch, standing there and cataloging it, claiming ownership of that image.
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