BARTIE
alone
at last
at last
Staring back at Deimos (Bartie rarely remembered to make herself blink, and just as often forgot that other people could find such an intense gaze uncomfortable), Bartie was quiet a moment. Were she as humble as her awkwardness could oft make her seem, she wouldn’t dare presume to be able to answer a question such as this, from the guildmaster himself. Her quiet had little to do with humbleness.
Monsters, and now especially void creatures, occupied all her heart, mind, and body. She had a breadth of thoughts on the subject, some more far fetched than others. It was the enormity of all she had to say to such a question that silenced her, each theory fighting to come out first. She trembled with it, just a touch. To get to talk about such things aloud with others didn’t come easily to her; she didn’t much invite interest from others. And to talk about it with someone who had seen so many creatures up close? She didn’t look it —quite the contrary, her expression more resembled constipation— but she was for one moment brilliantly, exquisitely happy.
Bartie sat, shifting from its walker to the seat opposite to Deimos, and leaned across the table. It watched him sketch, enjoying too that he worked as he spoke instead of putting the conversation first. It did not like conversing without some kind of activity in the middle, and better still when someone else introduced that buffer themselves. “Bartie. Yes,” she answered, curious that he knew her name. She didn’t yet have a measure of the man, and filed this, his knowing the name of a subordinate and a new, inconsequential one at that, away for future study.
Watching him sketch allowed her to compile and order her thoughts. "I have some ideas, though they derive more from the laws of biology in general than they do from observations of the void creatures proper. I’ve almost never left the Citadel, so my first-hand experience is… lacking. However, if we consider species native to our planet, unaffected by the void, those that are especially large usually have two reasons allowing such things. One being that they have some kind of energy source that allows them to sustain such an enormous form, the other being that their environment facilitates such growth. Different conditions. Different limits. I’ve read that deep in the ocean, creatures can take on all kinds of fantastical forms not possible on land.”
Bartie wasn’t a talker, but when allowed to run away with her own passions and interests? It was difficult for her to stop herself, and really, Deimos had asked such an interesting question. "Perhaps, whatever the void’s influence is, it allows creatures to experience our world differently, so they are not impacted by the same restraining forces as our native species are. Or it provides a source of energy that means the creatures do not immediately starve. I couldn’t answer you why some specimens are affected by this more than others. Perhaps, like us, it’s a question of will. You’ve heard the… speaking, in our heads. Perhaps some things join the family more readily than others. No family has all its members equally comfortable in it, does it? No real family, anyway.”
Monsters, and now especially void creatures, occupied all her heart, mind, and body. She had a breadth of thoughts on the subject, some more far fetched than others. It was the enormity of all she had to say to such a question that silenced her, each theory fighting to come out first. She trembled with it, just a touch. To get to talk about such things aloud with others didn’t come easily to her; she didn’t much invite interest from others. And to talk about it with someone who had seen so many creatures up close? She didn’t look it —quite the contrary, her expression more resembled constipation— but she was for one moment brilliantly, exquisitely happy.
Bartie sat, shifting from its walker to the seat opposite to Deimos, and leaned across the table. It watched him sketch, enjoying too that he worked as he spoke instead of putting the conversation first. It did not like conversing without some kind of activity in the middle, and better still when someone else introduced that buffer themselves. “Bartie. Yes,” she answered, curious that he knew her name. She didn’t yet have a measure of the man, and filed this, his knowing the name of a subordinate and a new, inconsequential one at that, away for future study.
Watching him sketch allowed her to compile and order her thoughts. "I have some ideas, though they derive more from the laws of biology in general than they do from observations of the void creatures proper. I’ve almost never left the Citadel, so my first-hand experience is… lacking. However, if we consider species native to our planet, unaffected by the void, those that are especially large usually have two reasons allowing such things. One being that they have some kind of energy source that allows them to sustain such an enormous form, the other being that their environment facilitates such growth. Different conditions. Different limits. I’ve read that deep in the ocean, creatures can take on all kinds of fantastical forms not possible on land.”
Bartie wasn’t a talker, but when allowed to run away with her own passions and interests? It was difficult for her to stop herself, and really, Deimos had asked such an interesting question. "Perhaps, whatever the void’s influence is, it allows creatures to experience our world differently, so they are not impacted by the same restraining forces as our native species are. Or it provides a source of energy that means the creatures do not immediately starve. I couldn’t answer you why some specimens are affected by this more than others. Perhaps, like us, it’s a question of will. You’ve heard the… speaking, in our heads. Perhaps some things join the family more readily than others. No family has all its members equally comfortable in it, does it? No real family, anyway.”
terribly, completely
alone
alone
