10 Ash, 121
Rivin had been taken from his cell later that day, allowed to stretch and move, run along the inner courtyard walls of whatever manse they were currently using as cloister for the ever ongoing experiment. Rivin was a culmination of that experiment, but he was not the finale. Finding that out had been as much a disappointment as an incentive to move onward. Of all the people who strove to fulfill the goal Dr. Ilex had set forth long before Rivin had been born, aside from the doctor himself, Rivin would easily appear to be the most devoted to its final outcome.
He'd worked himself hard, allowing his body to sweat out all the things that had gotten in, floated or pried their way into his pores and set up their homes there. Breeding and breathing and defecating their scents onto his skin until they mixed with his own scent and created the unique cocktails that reminded him that he needed to bathe. Sweat first though. Hot water and soap would do wonders in the eviction of what thrived on the environment his form created, but flooding them out as their very homes erupted in torrents of warm, salty wet was so much more satisfying. They would cling, of course, bemoaning their infinitesimal fates and attempting to ride out the deluge so they could crawl their way back to their caves and start over. That was where the bathing came in.
And bathe he did, once his run was over. The house had underground hot springs, it seemed, or perhaps it was a form of technology. There was always more of that the deeper one got into the Zaichaeri territory. The baths consisted of large sunken pools, steaming and surrounded by bars of scented soaps and towels. Rivin stripped down and dove in without a thought to the guards that were paid to watch him. As if he might suddenly consider drowning himself the most positive outcome of his life. He was used to it, but it still rankled in little ways, like the claws of tiny birds at the back of his neck. Ilex knew he would not try to kill himself, but the guards were always around. Ordering them to grow lax in their vigilance during the times his body was bared wasn't worth the trouble. It wasn't as though Rivin had not been examined and overseen by strangers in one way or another since even before he'd been born.
He knew now that his mother's gestation had been watched, and even altered by healer mages. That, while he had no memories of the acts personally, as an infant he had been taken from his mother and examined, experimented on and tested extensively. Only once he had passed the tests, been deemed both a reasonable specimen for the experiment and likely to thrive as a living creature was he released back to his mother. There, in the darkness, his own memories began. He knew of others now too, who had been raised similarly but never adjusted to the light. They were not incapable of functioning outside of the comfort of the umbra, but they were never quite calm when required to do so.
Rivin held no such prejudice, finding himself equally at ease in all spectrums of light. Though... bright lights being shone directly at him held unpleasant associations, and not merely because they hurt even eyes not averse to normal light. There had been times...
But no, he would not think about that, now, or ever again, if he could manage it. Those days came again often enough in his dreams that dredging through them waking would have afforded them more weight than they were due.
After washing thoroughly, scrubbing every inch of his skin and then rinsing, he sank into the water. Luxuriating in the heat he swam a bit, as much as the pools would allow, which was only a stroke or two from one side to the other, but it felt good regardless. Water deeper than that which came in cups or bowls was also something he'd had to adjust to. The first encounter with such had occurred shortly after his second meeting with Ilex.
Settling back against the side, letting his feet float and closing his eyes for a good, long soak he let his mind wander to that instead.
~~~~
A week of days after his second meeting with Ilex Rivin was still finding new things that were implied by the teaching he'd been given. His mother had been inundated with questions when he could not puzzle them out himself. He did try, always now, to find the answers in his own mind before they could push them out with the air in his lungs to her, but there was still so much he did not know.
The fact that such tools existed meant that someone made them. They were metal. Where did metal come from? Where did everything else come from? The stone of their cell, the hay and blankets that came with it, the coverings the guards and Dr. Ilex used on their bodies, the doors, walls, floors outside the cell. Everything. Where did everything come from?
The question was too big, but the smaller questions got him answers that made no sense in his mind. Doors were made of wood. Wood grew as trees. What was a tree? A plant. What was a plant? Something that grew out of the dirt. What was dirt?
Around and around until his mother grew, not impatient, but frustrated in how sadly little his life had allowed him to understand and told him to wait. He asked what he was waiting for and she gathered him onto her lap, explained that, she believed, very soon, they would be leaving the cell and be given another home. All the questions fell away like a bowl dropped, contents scattering across the floor as he tried to imagine not only leaving their home, but Not Coming Back.
His silence and huge eyes must have informed his mother that he was not handling the concept well for she went on to explain that they would simply be placed in another kind of cell. A different place where they would be kept, but it would be nicer.
He asked, Nicer How? She told him of larger rooms where more things were, where the place they would sleep would be softer and less itchy than straw. Where they did not have to wait a week before being passed a large bowl and rag for washing, but would be allowed to wash every day if they wanted. The food would be better more often, not just the mush six days and some meat or other solid protein on the seventh. He understood all these concepts, and they sounded fine, perhaps even good, though it would take time for him to adjust to a room both different and larger than the one he'd lived in all his life, so far.
After her words and warmth had soothed away the shock and fear Rivin nuzzled closer and asked if they would see the doctor more often. She answered that she did not know but she thought it was likely. He asked her how she knew all these things. She explained that when she had first been bought by the doctor she had been housed elsewhere and had seen other females be taken from the cells and placed in larger rooms once their children had passed the tests. Rivin paused in his cuddling and looked up at her again. There had been other children to pass the tests. Was he not special?
He tried to ask, though his grasp of what made him special was so slight it was hard to articulate the idea. She caught on to it after a few tries and her amused smile was back.
"You are special, my vain little son." She crooned, hugging him as though vanity were no bad thing. "There are many tests, you have passed some of the first only. That is rare. Most of the females I saw bearing children did not bring forth ones who could pass any of the tests. All the children that have come before you have failed along the path, but you will not. You are my son. You are strong, and I am teaching you."
The certainty that had accompanied every single lesson she had ever taught him faded as she spoke. Her arms wrapped around him and her tone was full of something other than assurance. It was close, but not the same. It sounded like she was willing her words into reality instead of accepting that they were already real. It scared him a little, and he wrapped his smaller arms around her as well. He wondered what had happened to all those other children, the ones who failed, but he did not ask. Her arms were too tight around him for him not to know this was a question he shouldn't ask. Not for her sake, but for his own.
Rivin had been taken from his cell later that day, allowed to stretch and move, run along the inner courtyard walls of whatever manse they were currently using as cloister for the ever ongoing experiment. Rivin was a culmination of that experiment, but he was not the finale. Finding that out had been as much a disappointment as an incentive to move onward. Of all the people who strove to fulfill the goal Dr. Ilex had set forth long before Rivin had been born, aside from the doctor himself, Rivin would easily appear to be the most devoted to its final outcome.
He'd worked himself hard, allowing his body to sweat out all the things that had gotten in, floated or pried their way into his pores and set up their homes there. Breeding and breathing and defecating their scents onto his skin until they mixed with his own scent and created the unique cocktails that reminded him that he needed to bathe. Sweat first though. Hot water and soap would do wonders in the eviction of what thrived on the environment his form created, but flooding them out as their very homes erupted in torrents of warm, salty wet was so much more satisfying. They would cling, of course, bemoaning their infinitesimal fates and attempting to ride out the deluge so they could crawl their way back to their caves and start over. That was where the bathing came in.
And bathe he did, once his run was over. The house had underground hot springs, it seemed, or perhaps it was a form of technology. There was always more of that the deeper one got into the Zaichaeri territory. The baths consisted of large sunken pools, steaming and surrounded by bars of scented soaps and towels. Rivin stripped down and dove in without a thought to the guards that were paid to watch him. As if he might suddenly consider drowning himself the most positive outcome of his life. He was used to it, but it still rankled in little ways, like the claws of tiny birds at the back of his neck. Ilex knew he would not try to kill himself, but the guards were always around. Ordering them to grow lax in their vigilance during the times his body was bared wasn't worth the trouble. It wasn't as though Rivin had not been examined and overseen by strangers in one way or another since even before he'd been born.
He knew now that his mother's gestation had been watched, and even altered by healer mages. That, while he had no memories of the acts personally, as an infant he had been taken from his mother and examined, experimented on and tested extensively. Only once he had passed the tests, been deemed both a reasonable specimen for the experiment and likely to thrive as a living creature was he released back to his mother. There, in the darkness, his own memories began. He knew of others now too, who had been raised similarly but never adjusted to the light. They were not incapable of functioning outside of the comfort of the umbra, but they were never quite calm when required to do so.
Rivin held no such prejudice, finding himself equally at ease in all spectrums of light. Though... bright lights being shone directly at him held unpleasant associations, and not merely because they hurt even eyes not averse to normal light. There had been times...
But no, he would not think about that, now, or ever again, if he could manage it. Those days came again often enough in his dreams that dredging through them waking would have afforded them more weight than they were due.
After washing thoroughly, scrubbing every inch of his skin and then rinsing, he sank into the water. Luxuriating in the heat he swam a bit, as much as the pools would allow, which was only a stroke or two from one side to the other, but it felt good regardless. Water deeper than that which came in cups or bowls was also something he'd had to adjust to. The first encounter with such had occurred shortly after his second meeting with Ilex.
Settling back against the side, letting his feet float and closing his eyes for a good, long soak he let his mind wander to that instead.
~~~~
A week of days after his second meeting with Ilex Rivin was still finding new things that were implied by the teaching he'd been given. His mother had been inundated with questions when he could not puzzle them out himself. He did try, always now, to find the answers in his own mind before they could push them out with the air in his lungs to her, but there was still so much he did not know.
The fact that such tools existed meant that someone made them. They were metal. Where did metal come from? Where did everything else come from? The stone of their cell, the hay and blankets that came with it, the coverings the guards and Dr. Ilex used on their bodies, the doors, walls, floors outside the cell. Everything. Where did everything come from?
The question was too big, but the smaller questions got him answers that made no sense in his mind. Doors were made of wood. Wood grew as trees. What was a tree? A plant. What was a plant? Something that grew out of the dirt. What was dirt?
Around and around until his mother grew, not impatient, but frustrated in how sadly little his life had allowed him to understand and told him to wait. He asked what he was waiting for and she gathered him onto her lap, explained that, she believed, very soon, they would be leaving the cell and be given another home. All the questions fell away like a bowl dropped, contents scattering across the floor as he tried to imagine not only leaving their home, but Not Coming Back.
His silence and huge eyes must have informed his mother that he was not handling the concept well for she went on to explain that they would simply be placed in another kind of cell. A different place where they would be kept, but it would be nicer.
He asked, Nicer How? She told him of larger rooms where more things were, where the place they would sleep would be softer and less itchy than straw. Where they did not have to wait a week before being passed a large bowl and rag for washing, but would be allowed to wash every day if they wanted. The food would be better more often, not just the mush six days and some meat or other solid protein on the seventh. He understood all these concepts, and they sounded fine, perhaps even good, though it would take time for him to adjust to a room both different and larger than the one he'd lived in all his life, so far.
After her words and warmth had soothed away the shock and fear Rivin nuzzled closer and asked if they would see the doctor more often. She answered that she did not know but she thought it was likely. He asked her how she knew all these things. She explained that when she had first been bought by the doctor she had been housed elsewhere and had seen other females be taken from the cells and placed in larger rooms once their children had passed the tests. Rivin paused in his cuddling and looked up at her again. There had been other children to pass the tests. Was he not special?
He tried to ask, though his grasp of what made him special was so slight it was hard to articulate the idea. She caught on to it after a few tries and her amused smile was back.
"You are special, my vain little son." She crooned, hugging him as though vanity were no bad thing. "There are many tests, you have passed some of the first only. That is rare. Most of the females I saw bearing children did not bring forth ones who could pass any of the tests. All the children that have come before you have failed along the path, but you will not. You are my son. You are strong, and I am teaching you."
The certainty that had accompanied every single lesson she had ever taught him faded as she spoke. Her arms wrapped around him and her tone was full of something other than assurance. It was close, but not the same. It sounded like she was willing her words into reality instead of accepting that they were already real. It scared him a little, and he wrapped his smaller arms around her as well. He wondered what had happened to all those other children, the ones who failed, but he did not ask. Her arms were too tight around him for him not to know this was a question he shouldn't ask. Not for her sake, but for his own.
