The Tempest

Blades' hearts are only metaphorical. If Minoth has learned one thing via proximity to a man consumed by zealous pedantry in whatever way he can benefit himself most, it is this.

Blades do not have literal, physical blood-beating hearts. They do not clutch and seize with fear and apprehension, relief and restive states.

But the Core is what they have instead, and the Core, unlike a human's heart, is not so...interchangeable?

The Core is not just an organ, a part. The Core is both the heart and the soul.

So when Minoth feels frustrated, unsafe and unalone, he has perhaps a harder time than a human might at removing himself from the reaction caused, product of his environmental emotions.

How can he be here and now? His very bioprogramming resists, pulls him toward the source of the sound like autonomous magnetism.

He has to be his own. He has to be determined. Only he can decide who he is - he's fully awakened, made manifest, now.

If he closes his eyes, the inputs fall away. There's nothing to receive, and even less to give.

Breathe in. Breathe out. Self-possession. Breathe.

What can the mind do that the matter of it can't, cannot?

The world around him is stifled by people, and especially people he'd rather not see.

But his mind, his Core that has a rich and captive memory, can think of Addam, no matter how far away.

He can think of himself, in that safer place. He can think of Addam, here, today.

Maybe there should be better coping mechanisms, more independent and less uninspired; sure, Minoth can get along with that.

It doesn't matter if it's a cliché, though, because Minoth doesn't just love Addam. He also likes him. He likes Addam's boisterous yet gentle way, his mild obliviousness easily given way to deftest perception whenever the situation most truly called.

Minoth was calling. Maybe Addam wouldn't answer. But geez, if you were in his shoes...you know, have a heart!