Jun. 8th, 2016 11:13 pm
fragile [drabble #30 || neil ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
eliayasebc my baby doesn't get enough love and im gonna change that
There's a fragile line between life and living. He has seen it. He embodies it.
Neil is constantly bombarded with facts, with light, with joy. Although he isn't a living, breathing being, he is so full of life. He couldn't ask for more. Maybe... a person to share it with, but his plants were perfectly good listeners. He fed them, cared for them, cherished them... and in return, they danced in the light for him. He'd seen sights that no human ever would.
Although he can't speak, the world seems to listen. He feels the bubbles of delight pop in his chest and he can never tell if it's real, human feeling or just a spark in his wiring. He's not built for feelings. His system can't handle it. He'd love to try them one day.
Golly, he wished he were human sometimes.
Instead he is a clunky machine. Monitor head too large, hands too cold, heartless. As beautiful of pictures his face could make, he'd never have a real face.
He'd never be able to speak.
Yet he could love.
At least... he thought so. He hoped so.
Is love really love if there's nobody to give it to?
There's a fragile line between life and living. He has seen it. He embodies it.
Neil is constantly bombarded with facts, with light, with joy. Although he isn't a living, breathing being, he is so full of life. He couldn't ask for more. Maybe... a person to share it with, but his plants were perfectly good listeners. He fed them, cared for them, cherished them... and in return, they danced in the light for him. He'd seen sights that no human ever would.
Although he can't speak, the world seems to listen. He feels the bubbles of delight pop in his chest and he can never tell if it's real, human feeling or just a spark in his wiring. He's not built for feelings. His system can't handle it. He'd love to try them one day.
Golly, he wished he were human sometimes.
Instead he is a clunky machine. Monitor head too large, hands too cold, heartless. As beautiful of pictures his face could make, he'd never have a real face.
He'd never be able to speak.
Yet he could love.
At least... he thought so. He hoped so.
Is love really love if there's nobody to give it to?
Tags: