jaewalker (jaewalker) wrote in solsticerp, @ 2010-12-02 21:03:00 |
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Entry tags: | art, corwin, june 25 2009 |
Thursday: Life, the Universe and Everything
Who: Corwin and Art
Where: Corwin's House
When: Late Afternoon
Art had been fidgeting during the day, trying to keep busy but finding he was getting tasks accomplished in record time and would then have nothing to do until the next customer arrived or until Corwin found him a project with which to occupy himself. He had resorted to counting the stock and even did some dusting. He'd stopped tapping his pencil on the counter when Corwin told him the third time and resigned himself to thinking about which item in Corwin's workshop he'd ask to explore first. Now they were at Corwin's place and Art had some kitchen tasks to take care of first, then it was workshop time. Mixing the hamburger meat my hand, he looked over his shoulder at the mage and said, "I hope you're hungry." It wasn't as if he could eat any of this, though left-overs could always go to Sen. She was working on a project back at their apartment.
"I'm always hungry," Corwin answered absently, sitting at the kitchen table with his glasses perched on his nose and one of his magical tools in hand, prodding at the broken statue of the bird in an attempt to trace the outline in the air of what was missing from it. He was pretty sure this statue had no magical properties, at all, so he felt moderately safe bringing it up from the workroom as Art worked in the kitchen. All he wanted was to see what the statue was supposed to look like, whole. "It'll be fine. Just don't make enough to feed an army. I can pawn some off on the animals, but not all of it."
As if to prove him wrong, Geordi was sitting at Art's feet, looking up and making his best starving-dog impression, licking his chops every now and then.
Corwin wasn't always hungry, but he could certainly pack it away. He was a big man and needed more substantial portions than some. He and Sen weren't in a competition for who could eat the most - at least, not officially - but Art figured they were a fairly good match. He paused in his mixing to watch the statue, then looked down at Geordi and sighed. He licked his own lips in an exaggerated manner, attempting to mimic the dog. "I am certain the animals will assist. I won't make enough for an army, but there will be extra." Smiling at Geordi, he whispered, "Hear that? Extra..." Art and Sen hadn't acquired animals of their own, but they did tend to spoil Corwin's menagerie. He returned to mixing the meat and started forming patties for grilling in a pan. "The items from the beach should keep us occupied for a while, shouldn't they?" He was looking forward to weeks, months, maybe even years of exploration with them.
Geordi answered the attention with a drawn-out, wheezy-sounding whine, which made Corwin chuckle-- and lose the outline he'd been building. "Dammit," he muttered, and sighed, and started over. It was a good thing he was patient. "Hmm? Oh. A little while, anyway. Cordelia's worried they'll blow up the house, or something. I tried to tell her I'm more likely to blow up the house, but she didn't believe me."
Art laughed at Geordi's little whine. He'd sneak the dog some of the cooked meat later and maybe some of the other animals would be interested in a morsel or two. He glanced up when Corwin swore and hoped he wasn't part of the problem. Mages needed to focus sometimes and though the golem could hold very still, he wasn't always good at focusing. "Why would she think they would blow up the house? I don't think any of the items are explosive." Not that he knew, but surely Corwin wouldn't have brought anything that bad inside? He'd have been able to tell if there was a bomb, right?
"Well, we don't really know, do we?" Corwin pointed out with a wry smile. "But I'm pretty sure I've separated out anything that might be dangerous and stuck it under lock and key. She's just being more careful than we are, that's all-- she's not really the type to like magic for magic's sake, you know." He loved Cordelia, she was probably his best friend, but that wasn't something they shared, unfortunately. It was hard to geek out over some obscure spell with someone who just didn't care.
"I guess not," he said, forming the patties and washing his hands. "But I trust your judgment when it comes to magic." He was magic, after all, and Corwin had been part of his creation. Art knew the mage certainly had a better chance of knowing if something was really dangerous or not. He knew he wouldn't know. "I thought Cordelia liked magic." That was the impression he'd gotten, anyway.
"Well, really, who doesn't?" Corwin asked, rhetorically and with a smile. "But that's not the same thing as loving it, and it's definitely not the same thing as trusting it. She and I both worry about each other, she just worries about different things than I do, that's all. Her kind of magic doesn't sometimes explode, after all. Mine can." Not that it usually did, but still. He understood that it was a legitimate worry in Gwen's mind. "Geordi," he added without turning around. "Down." The big dog, who had nearly reared up onto his hind paws to get at the patties on the counter, slumped back down with a guilty expression.
Art shrugged and dried his hands on a dish towel. He couldn't understand why anyone wouldn't like magic, but he guessed there were people out there who wouldn't, if they knew it existed. That was another issue. So many people had no idea that magic was real. "Your magic hasn't exploded in a while... has it?" He'd remember that, wouldn't he? Art ran his hand briefly under the tap and flicked his fingers over the pan. It sizzled, signaling to him that it was right for starting to cook the patties. He glanced down at poor Geordie and made a note to give him something before he left.
"Well, there was all that smoke on Sunday," Corwin answered sheepishly, finally finishing up the outline he was working on. It was just a bunch of glowing lines hovering in the air, but with a quick word and a symbol traced in the air, the lines filled in with illusion, making the sculpture look whole. It was very pretty... some strange, fiery bird. Not a firebird or phoenix, like he vaguely knew existed here, but definitely it looked on fire. And it had six wings. That was strange.
Smoke wasn't too bad. 'Boom'? That was bad. Art set four of the patties in the pan and placed the screen over top. It cut down on the amount of fat that spat up while the patties cooked. Even though he used lean meat, there was always some fat. He shrugged, picked up the tongs and looked over at the statue. Smiling, he said, "It's beautiful, Corwin. Do you think such a creature exists somewhere?"
"If it does, it's not on Earth," Corwin answered, looking at it thoughtfully. "Or else it's just in someone's imagination." He was voting for "not on earth", though, because the type of stone it was made out of had resisted all attempts at identifying it, and he certainly didn't recognize it. Maybe some earth elemental or mage who could transmute things had warped it, but he was at least moderately sure he could have picked up traces of that, at least. "It is very pretty, though. Too bad I can't actually repair it... not without trying to actually grow more of this kind of rock."
"I agree," he said, as the patties sizzled in the pan. Five minutes and he's turn them. "Some parallel world or other dimension. I've read about such things in books by Anthony and Heinlein." And many, many more. "Maybe you can't repair it, but now we know what the complete statue looks like, we could create one, from clay..." He didn't know how to work clay, but surely someone did.
"Hmm." Corwin considered that option, still regarding the statue. "I don't know. That doesn't feel quite right, really... trying to make a fake one, when the real one's right here. Besides, I don't know about you, but I'm not likely to be any good with clay." He banished the illusion with a quick gestured symbol, and set his tool down again. "So what do we want to work on next?"
"But we can't repair the real one properly," Art said. "I've never tried to use clay. Is it difficult?" Somethings, whether watched on a documentary or read about in a book, just didn't provide him with enough information on how easily people would be able to accomplish a given task. "Anything would be fine. There's so much to choose from." He turned back to the pan but the burgers weren't ready to turn yet. A thought poked around his brain. "Corwin, why was I created?"
"Uh." The last question wiped out any chance of Corwin answering the first. It was just too big of one. He got up to leave the table and statue behind, moving over to lean on the counter beside Art. "Didn't the professor explain all that to you? I didn't think he'd be all... secretive about it." Sen knew her purpose: to protect and take care of her maker, and now Corwin. Surely Art knew his, too?
The eyes that were the color of a favorite marble followed Corwin as he moved closer. Art nodded, slid his gaze back to the burgers and used the tongs to turn them. "I'm not a real Human," he said, thinking of the statue. "I'm a fake one, created to look after the professor and Sen and now, you. You and the professor made me, not out of clay, but just the same... I'm not real. You are real. The planet has many people. Why was I created when a Human could have served?" Five more minutes on this side and the burgers would be done. Art looked up from the pan to the very tall man beside him.
"You're real," Corwin protested, confused and unhappy about this turn of conversation. Was Art unhappy somehow? "Just because you came about differently than somebody like me doesn't mean you're any less real than I am. You're not a copy of anything, you're completely yourself, and you're self-aware. That makes you perfectly real, in my book." People "made" children, all the time; it was just a different process to "make" a golem than it was to make children. And nobody called children less real than their parents.
Art wasn't unhappy, exactly. He was just full of questions and he might not like the answers, but he had to know. "I'm not a real boy," said the golem, who had the look of someone in his mid-to-late twenties and always would look that way. He said it as if it was a fact, not a problem. "I'm like Pinocchio, only I haven't met the Blue Fairy yet. I won't die. I will live forever, unless I can't find a purpose or someone removes my collar and I... stop. That isn't 'normal', so I'm not 'real', in the Human sense." Art smiled a little and poked at the burgers. "I'm glad you think I'm real, though. You don't treat me as if I'm a thing or a slave. I know not all golems are as fortunate as Sen and me..."
"Art...." Corwin rubbed at his nose, and took his glasses off when they got in the way of his fingers. "Not being human doesn't make you not real. Shifters aren't human, but they're real-- elementals aren't human, either. Firebirds are hatched, not born, and they're still real." He put a hand on Art's shoulder, feeling clumsy about it, but wanting to do something. "You shouldn't think of yourself like that. Just because you're a golem instead of a human doesn't make you any less real. It just makes you different."
The golem listened intently to what Corwin had to say. It was an important topic and the mage was treating it as such, and Arturion Stone appreciated that very much. "I know and I... appreciate the reminder. I don't think I'm explaining myself properly, but..." He smiled a little, feeling better about life. "Yes, in that sense, I'm 'real'. I can't procreate or die, which is... unusual for living things. I don't mind being different, most of the time, though lately, I've been thinking about all kinds of things. I want to understand what... normal people do. Normal. That's a better word." He pursed his lips a little in thought. "Maybe..."
"Oh, well, I can't help you very much, there," Corwin admitted with a sheepish little smile. "I'm not very normal, myself. I mean, I'm not about to procreate, either. And Art, I'm pretty sure you can die. If your magic goes, if you get unraveled or unmade, you're gone-- and that's close enough to dead, to me, to count." He shuddered at the thought, and went to the fridge to get out something to drink, since the burgers would probably be done soon.
Art laughed and put the tongs down to put the buns in the oven. He had them set on a baking sheet and he was just going to warm them slightly. Maybe they'd toast a little, too. "We are neither of us 'normal'. I agree." He closed the oven door all but an inch, so the buns wouldn't burn. Each of them were having two burgers to start. "I hope my magic doesn't go away, but I hadn't thought of that. Thank you, Corwin." Being infinite was sometimes overwhelming.
Setting the milk on the counter, Corwin took a step back towards Art to put an arm around his shoulders in a brief hug. "You're welcome. Though I think you're the only person I can imagine who'd be thanking someone for telling them they're mortal, after all." He chuckled a bit, let his friend go, and set about getting out a glass. Milk and burgers. But it was better than caffeine when he was heading downstairs later to work.
Art hugged back as best he could, given he had tongs and so on. He loved hugs. "It's come to my attention that I lead a very strange life," he said, "for an ten-year-old." The buns were ready fairly quickly. Art pulled out the tray, without using oven mitts, and set it on the top of the stove. There were condiments on the table already and salad, too. Corwin would have plenty to eat. Two of the burgers - and the buns - he had personally earmarked for the menagerie, though if Corwin ended up eating them, too, he had some in reserve.
"December 21, 1999," Art said, watching Corwin try to herd his animal friends. He sat across from Corwin with his plate of burgers and buns and made churring noises to get Geordi's attention. "I was a Christmas present, that's what the professor used to say. So, technically, I won't be ten until this coming December." Which wasn't coming very soon, as it was still June. "A third of your life?" He broke off a piece of the burger and bun, combined and held it at dog level beside him. "You might live longer, though, right? Because you're a mage?"
"Longer than thirty years? Uh, yeah," Corwin laughed a little, grabbing the ketchup to squeeze out on his hamburger bun. "I'll live a good long time yet, Art, don't worry. Mage or no mage." Geordi was quick to move away from Corwin and over to Art, where the offered food was. And while he took the piece of burger gently and carefully from Art's fingers-- Geordi was a polite beggar-- he did it very messily, too, leaving a lot of slobber behind.
Art didn't mind the dog slobber, but he knew not to lick his fingers. He wiped his hand on a napkin and scratched Geordi behind the ears. "Good. Please try to live as long as possible. Sen and I, we'll take care of you and your animals, always. Then, we will find another purpose. We will continue, as you and the professor intended, and you will always be with us." He smiled, satisfied with that answer. he firmly believed it, too.
"We don't need to think about that sort of thing for a long time, anyway," Corwin commented around a bite of burger. He had plans for the eventuality of when he got old and ready to die, of course. He wasn't about leave his friends high and dry, with no plans for their future-- that just wasn't a nice thing to do, especially to them. But he also wanted to make sure they had a choice in the matter, and found whoever he suggested for them to be the kind of person they wanted to work with and be friends with. He'd occasionally thought, if he had any children, but he kind of doubted that was going to happen.
"No, not for a very long time," Art said, nodding in agreement. Another nose poked at his leg and another portion of his burger went under the table. He didn't even look to see which animal it was this time. It hardly mattered; they all deserved treats. If Corwin had family, Sen and Art could look after them, but nothing had happened in that area yet. There was still time. Maybe Corwin would adopt - though Art tended to think of himself and his 'cousin' as 'family', he knew it wasn't legally the case. Or he didn't think so, anyway. If nothing else, looking after Sen would occupy him for the rest of his life. She needed to be fed, after all, and tidied.
Reaching over to pat Art's arm lightly at the agreement, Corwin settled in to just eat. It'd been a while since lunch, and he was a big guy: he was definitely hungry. The animals were quickly swarming the table, Geordi and Davey and Gin and all the rest of the cats who could be bothered to come beg for food. Which meant not Patches or Georgia, but pretty much all the others. Even Horus was hovering around the edges of the pack, as if he was afraid that someone would accuse him of begging, but not quite able to resist the lure of hamburger.
The menagerie was emerging and approaching the table and they knew Art would have something for them. He smiled a little as he watched Corwin attempt to control the traffic, so at least they didn't roam the table. He'd make sure that Patches and Georgia would get some later, since they weren't among the crowd. "Remember to leave me my fingers," he murmured as he distributed bits of his meal. Not that they could have removed his fingers or any part of him, for that matter, even by accident. It was good to be a golem.