11-21-2016, 02:26 PM
Input= Forest; .....processing.... ; Output=
She moves through the forest, unnatural, abnormal, dangerous. The sleek silver of her torso, the shine of the dappled sunlight over her barrel gleams like the polished barrel of a gun. She stalks as quiet as that gun, a silent avenger. Her limbs roll, her tendons click, and hold your breath dear stalker for yes, maybe you can hear the click, whoosh and sway of machinery as each bone joins and propels this young beast forwards.
Our little Synth has strayed from the field, drawn by the whispers of leaves and the creak of wooden limbs. It makes a change, she smiles, from the creaking of her rusty heart. Her feet whisper through the undergrowth, the large canopy sighing as it watches her pass.
Synth She chants and it meets the air in a soft hiss as her tongue lifts to caress the roof of her mouth. Synth She hums absently as if she does not know the meaning of the word. Maybe she does, yet maybe she does not. Oh our Synth is a mystery even unto herself.
Eyes, as blue as the distant seas seem too unnatural within this forest. They gleam like night lights in the dark, windows to the cogwheels that whirr within her mind. A grove glimmers ahead, a break within the vast umbrella of leaves and arching limbs, she steps within its heart. The sunlight glows golden bright and soothing warm. Its heat sinks beneath her skin, down, down though tissue, bone, blood and deeper, deeper to the core where she is… different.
She licks her lips as she sways. Music. She hums a rhythm and melody, both so unknown and broken and hardly music but she drifts and sways this curious girl. She dances to her own song, she dances for her own pleasure, if you can even call it dancing at all. Above her, keen black eyes of birds watch on, should they fear our strange little Synth? Should they fear our strange girl of brushed steel and electric blue eyes... why of course not, she is, after all, only a horse, right?
Come, come join her forest dance, for I am not sure she will talk to you otherwise...
She moves through the forest, unnatural, abnormal, dangerous. The sleek silver of her torso, the shine of the dappled sunlight over her barrel gleams like the polished barrel of a gun. She stalks as quiet as that gun, a silent avenger. Her limbs roll, her tendons click, and hold your breath dear stalker for yes, maybe you can hear the click, whoosh and sway of machinery as each bone joins and propels this young beast forwards.
Our little Synth has strayed from the field, drawn by the whispers of leaves and the creak of wooden limbs. It makes a change, she smiles, from the creaking of her rusty heart. Her feet whisper through the undergrowth, the large canopy sighing as it watches her pass.
Synth She chants and it meets the air in a soft hiss as her tongue lifts to caress the roof of her mouth. Synth She hums absently as if she does not know the meaning of the word. Maybe she does, yet maybe she does not. Oh our Synth is a mystery even unto herself.
Eyes, as blue as the distant seas seem too unnatural within this forest. They gleam like night lights in the dark, windows to the cogwheels that whirr within her mind. A grove glimmers ahead, a break within the vast umbrella of leaves and arching limbs, she steps within its heart. The sunlight glows golden bright and soothing warm. Its heat sinks beneath her skin, down, down though tissue, bone, blood and deeper, deeper to the core where she is… different.
She licks her lips as she sways. Music. She hums a rhythm and melody, both so unknown and broken and hardly music but she drifts and sways this curious girl. She dances to her own song, she dances for her own pleasure, if you can even call it dancing at all. Above her, keen black eyes of birds watch on, should they fear our strange little Synth? Should they fear our strange girl of brushed steel and electric blue eyes... why of course not, she is, after all, only a horse, right?
Come, come join her forest dance, for I am not sure she will talk to you otherwise...