Time: During the ending of Shax's War
Place: Aboard the Brimstone, in dock on Amnesia
Leopold climbed onto the chair in what was now his cabin. Why he had been given his own cabin was unclear, though his demon father assured him it was appropriate. The bunk remained folded into the wall since he had no desire to use it. He would have to work on a corner nest at some point. In the meantime, he had a small desk and comm console, complete with lightpad and holo screen. Wriggling himself into a semi-comfortable position, he began to type.
Several questions still
Many concerning language
How do I know speech?
How do I form words?
Why am I able to type?
Am I a figment?
The AI says no.
Says I have bio readings,
and physical mass.
This could all be part
of the elaborate dream
of which I'm a piece.
All quite puzzling. However, if he was a figment and this was a complicated hallucination, he still had to live in it. Comforting that he could keep a journal. The act made him feel more…real.
Leopold plopped back onto the floor and scurried out into the already-familiar corridors. The interconnected corridors were less complex than in the big ship, so he knew them all by heart. The people living here were more challenging to untangle.
There had been three angels but there would soon be only two, since two of the regular angels would be sent home that day. Papa Ness was a "fallen" angel, and Leopold was beginning to understand what that truly meant. Not that he agreed with it. The rest of the crew, barring a single human, was made up of different sorts of "demons," which seemed a catchall phrase to him.
He skittered outside the sick bay and managed the turn without too much sliding. Only three patients still occupied the beds since Papa Ness had moved to the cabin he shared with Papa Shax to complete his convalescence. Quieter there, apparently.
Leopold stopped to sniff outside the big demon's cabin. Demon. Human. Strong pheromones. Ah. They had engaged in that thing paired beings did called sex. And sometimes more than pairs of beings. It all seemed messy and overly energetic for the reported outcome. Some beings did it as a means of physical procreation, though he understood Corny and Verin most likely would not produce young from it.
When he passed the kitchen where the imp, Heckle, sat talking quietly with Mac, he scented similar pheromones, though they weren't engaged in any of the types of activities he had seen on the vids showing sex. Odd. Whatever Mac was doing, he had managed to focus the imp's attention, which was good. Heckle no longer caused chaos in the kitchen. Maybe that would be part of Mac's job. Imp distraction.
When Leopold reached the hold, he plunked down on the landing to watch the goings on down below where Papa Shax was in the process of tossing an unpleasant looking human off his ship. Leopold hoped the angels would be safe with the angry human. They had been through too much.
As he sat there with his short hind legs swinging, something about the four people standing in the hold glaring at each other. They were crew. The ship where Leopold had been born had been much larger and crew had meant many things, with many different jobs. Still – it meant that each person had a place here, did something the rest depended on. Crew.
He stared down at his stumpy limbs and small paws. What could he possibly do that would be useful? Clean dust out of air ducts? No. This ship had little bots to do that. What then?
"If you live onboard, you apply to the captain. His ship—he will know."
He would ask Papa Shax when he returned. Simple as that. Then he wouldn't be a figment at all. He would be crew.
Place: Aboard the Brimstone, in dock on Amnesia
Leopold climbed onto the chair in what was now his cabin. Why he had been given his own cabin was unclear, though his demon father assured him it was appropriate. The bunk remained folded into the wall since he had no desire to use it. He would have to work on a corner nest at some point. In the meantime, he had a small desk and comm console, complete with lightpad and holo screen. Wriggling himself into a semi-comfortable position, he began to type.
Several questions still
Many concerning language
How do I know speech?
How do I form words?
Why am I able to type?
Am I a figment?
The AI says no.
Says I have bio readings,
and physical mass.
This could all be part
of the elaborate dream
of which I'm a piece.
All quite puzzling. However, if he was a figment and this was a complicated hallucination, he still had to live in it. Comforting that he could keep a journal. The act made him feel more…real.
Leopold plopped back onto the floor and scurried out into the already-familiar corridors. The interconnected corridors were less complex than in the big ship, so he knew them all by heart. The people living here were more challenging to untangle.
There had been three angels but there would soon be only two, since two of the regular angels would be sent home that day. Papa Ness was a "fallen" angel, and Leopold was beginning to understand what that truly meant. Not that he agreed with it. The rest of the crew, barring a single human, was made up of different sorts of "demons," which seemed a catchall phrase to him.
He skittered outside the sick bay and managed the turn without too much sliding. Only three patients still occupied the beds since Papa Ness had moved to the cabin he shared with Papa Shax to complete his convalescence. Quieter there, apparently.
Leopold stopped to sniff outside the big demon's cabin. Demon. Human. Strong pheromones. Ah. They had engaged in that thing paired beings did called sex. And sometimes more than pairs of beings. It all seemed messy and overly energetic for the reported outcome. Some beings did it as a means of physical procreation, though he understood Corny and Verin most likely would not produce young from it.
When he passed the kitchen where the imp, Heckle, sat talking quietly with Mac, he scented similar pheromones, though they weren't engaged in any of the types of activities he had seen on the vids showing sex. Odd. Whatever Mac was doing, he had managed to focus the imp's attention, which was good. Heckle no longer caused chaos in the kitchen. Maybe that would be part of Mac's job. Imp distraction.
When Leopold reached the hold, he plunked down on the landing to watch the goings on down below where Papa Shax was in the process of tossing an unpleasant looking human off his ship. Leopold hoped the angels would be safe with the angry human. They had been through too much.
As he sat there with his short hind legs swinging, something about the four people standing in the hold glaring at each other. They were crew. The ship where Leopold had been born had been much larger and crew had meant many things, with many different jobs. Still – it meant that each person had a place here, did something the rest depended on. Crew.
He stared down at his stumpy limbs and small paws. What could he possibly do that would be useful? Clean dust out of air ducts? No. This ship had little bots to do that. What then?
"If you live onboard, you apply to the captain. His ship—he will know."
He would ask Papa Shax when he returned. Simple as that. Then he wouldn't be a figment at all. He would be crew.
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