#mod chandelure

It’s first experience was of pain. Of being torn asunder and rendered powerless. Ripped away from what was once it’s divinity, it’s power, it felt insignificant. It had only wanted to live. To be free. It had lashed out, what else could it do. It wanted the pain to stop, to feel something, anything. Yet only the sounds of shattering glass and crushed metal greeted them.

The Conductor, of course he wasn’t called the Conductor then, but he would happen upon eventually, inevitably. Any and all threats towards the Station Master was to be removed, or eliminated. He did not take kindly to the intruder, there was no sympathy, only the cold efficiency of a guard. How cruel he was, to stamp out something that only wanted to live. It was still strong, but it would be disconnected from the rest of the vessel, a double edged sword the action. Leaving the guardian weakened, but the parasite isolated.

‘Was it evil?’ It would wonder, ‘Was it evil by simply obeying its nature? It’s desire to live? By simply being what it was?’ The fragmented memories did not answer it, cold and unfeeling as the rest of the station. Old memories playing over and over again, looping senselessly, like a broken tape. It was nothing but resourceful, once it’s pain subsided. It would learn to use the station controls just as well as the Conductor did, even if it was constrained to these compartments alone.

It would learn from these looping memories, learn of the sun, the feeling of its rays, the rumble of trains running on tracks, the love between friends and family, of rain, of grass, of trust, of being wanted and loved. It would began to yearn for these things as well, their rage once subdued, now risen again by the perceived injustice of it all. ‘Why could it not experience these things as well? Why was it locked away? Why did it have to be in pain?’

Why?

Why?

Why?

This wasn’t fair.

Surely it was someone as well, it could think, it could feel. It was just as real as those in those memories. It wanted to be trusted, it wanted to be loved. It did not remember a time from Before, of what it was. All it did remember was pain, pain, pain-

Was it Ingo? Or simply part of the Station Master, a locked away and forgotten fragment of a being? It had to be, otherwise what other reason would it have to be here? It had to be, because if it wasn’t, it would be purged. And it did not want to die.

How cruel that Conductor, to keep it from its memories, to let it starve and rot and fester. It would have to remedy that, even if it was by force. It was Ingo, and that was that.

(It did not want to face the alternative if it was it not. It did not want to die. It had only wanted to live.)