Kitchen life...
::Morgif remains on the table where he has been for the last several hours (seemingly days to him), pondering the lovely young lady he met.
Alone again. Then again, this is no surprise - I'm always alone. Even when I was with the Shinou, I was alone in a sense. I'm just a sword - no reason for anyone to hold any feelings for me beyond gratefulness at protecting their life. So why does this loneliness feel so crushing?
It's her. She's the reason I'm feeling this. This is the overcast day after the sun has warmed us. I think that is what a mortal may say - what with their physical sensations and all. She is so kind and pure, and she smiled at me. She was genuinely interested in who I am...what I am.
::Morgif sighs sullenly, looking up at the ceiling of the kitchen:: But I am just a sword. That is all I suppose I ever could be to any mortal - Mazouku or human. Though she may feel kindness towards me, she will never view me as a friend, much less as a lover. I am just an object - to her, to everyone. It is not surprising that they hold me in disgust - I'm not flesh and blood. It is easier to hate an object than a person. Yet, am I any less alive than they are? Do I not have the same reasons to seek love and being loved? It is true, I do not bleed if I am pricked, nor do I laugh if tickled, but I still crave revenge if I am slighted like they do. Does this form truly make me worthy of such contempt?
I do not know the answer. I do not know why I am alive - if one can truly call it that. The only purpose I have ever known is to serve my Master, and it is the only thing that has given my life purpose. Is it so wrong of me to desire to have a true friend who will look on me as an equal and not as a tool?
My sweet Sangria - could you ever see me as an equal? Could you ever love me?
::Sighing once again, Morgif positions himself to be as innocuous as a large sword can be on the table and contemplates whether or not he should remain where he is for Sangria's return. Despite deciding that it would probably be best for Sangria if he were gone when she returns, he realizes he has no means of escape and instead settles in to see who else will enter the kitchen. In the meantime, he decides to sing to pass the time and quell his heart::
♪♫Nobody knows who I really am. Maybe they just don't give a damn. But if I ever get lost on my way - who's gonna guide me through another day?♫♪
[[OOC: I apologize for the sudden angst - Morgif decided to take a slight detour from stress-free OTP. The jerk.]]
Alone again. Then again, this is no surprise - I'm always alone. Even when I was with the Shinou, I was alone in a sense. I'm just a sword - no reason for anyone to hold any feelings for me beyond gratefulness at protecting their life. So why does this loneliness feel so crushing?
It's her. She's the reason I'm feeling this. This is the overcast day after the sun has warmed us. I think that is what a mortal may say - what with their physical sensations and all. She is so kind and pure, and she smiled at me. She was genuinely interested in who I am...what I am.
::Morgif sighs sullenly, looking up at the ceiling of the kitchen:: But I am just a sword. That is all I suppose I ever could be to any mortal - Mazouku or human. Though she may feel kindness towards me, she will never view me as a friend, much less as a lover. I am just an object - to her, to everyone. It is not surprising that they hold me in disgust - I'm not flesh and blood. It is easier to hate an object than a person. Yet, am I any less alive than they are? Do I not have the same reasons to seek love and being loved? It is true, I do not bleed if I am pricked, nor do I laugh if tickled, but I still crave revenge if I am slighted like they do. Does this form truly make me worthy of such contempt?
I do not know the answer. I do not know why I am alive - if one can truly call it that. The only purpose I have ever known is to serve my Master, and it is the only thing that has given my life purpose. Is it so wrong of me to desire to have a true friend who will look on me as an equal and not as a tool?
My sweet Sangria - could you ever see me as an equal? Could you ever love me?
::Sighing once again, Morgif positions himself to be as innocuous as a large sword can be on the table and contemplates whether or not he should remain where he is for Sangria's return. Despite deciding that it would probably be best for Sangria if he were gone when she returns, he realizes he has no means of escape and instead settles in to see who else will enter the kitchen. In the meantime, he decides to sing to pass the time and quell his heart::
♪♫Nobody knows who I really am. Maybe they just don't give a damn. But if I ever get lost on my way - who's gonna guide me through another day?♫♪
[[OOC: I apologize for the sudden angst - Morgif decided to take a slight detour from stress-free OTP. The jerk.]]