OverMaster
Well worn.
- Joined
- Jun 1, 2018
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The Sleeping Beauty.
They took him to a huge chamber, and there he was, resting in a coffin of ice.
Philip's eyes grew slightly in size. "Who... Who is that?" he asked, despite always having known, ever since waking up himself.
The doctors hummed and hewed. "The founder, naturally," the lead one said. "Those stories were always true, we kept him preserved since long before the old world died. It took us centuries to produce you, the perfected being who could wake him up, so this is what you were born for. Go ahead, boy. Kiss him."
Despite everything, Philip struggled with the idea. An atavic revulsion rose in him at the sight of the icy body, its eyes closed, hands neatly folded on its chest. But his programming could not be contradicted. Without wanting to, he leaned down, kissed the father of all dreams in the lips, and then pulled back, disgusted at himself and the nature of the dream.
For a moment, the wise men and women and wise ones from the new genders feared at the lack of a reaction from the sleeping beauty. But then it twitched, and hope was reborn in their long dead hearts.
The frail body shook and rattled, and something rose from inside it. It rippled through the chest, shedding the old body like so much useless skin, and the wise ones fell to their hands and knees as the Black Mouse stood, smiling, much to Philip's horror.
The mouse smiled widely. It waved a black hand gloved in white.
"Hi ya! Ha ha!" it laughed in a falsetto.
Philip turned away and began running outside.
They took him to a huge chamber, and there he was, resting in a coffin of ice.
Philip's eyes grew slightly in size. "Who... Who is that?" he asked, despite always having known, ever since waking up himself.
The doctors hummed and hewed. "The founder, naturally," the lead one said. "Those stories were always true, we kept him preserved since long before the old world died. It took us centuries to produce you, the perfected being who could wake him up, so this is what you were born for. Go ahead, boy. Kiss him."
Despite everything, Philip struggled with the idea. An atavic revulsion rose in him at the sight of the icy body, its eyes closed, hands neatly folded on its chest. But his programming could not be contradicted. Without wanting to, he leaned down, kissed the father of all dreams in the lips, and then pulled back, disgusted at himself and the nature of the dream.
For a moment, the wise men and women and wise ones from the new genders feared at the lack of a reaction from the sleeping beauty. But then it twitched, and hope was reborn in their long dead hearts.
The frail body shook and rattled, and something rose from inside it. It rippled through the chest, shedding the old body like so much useless skin, and the wise ones fell to their hands and knees as the Black Mouse stood, smiling, much to Philip's horror.
The mouse smiled widely. It waved a black hand gloved in white.
"Hi ya! Ha ha!" it laughed in a falsetto.
Philip turned away and began running outside.