𝘊𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘵𝘦𝘳 1 𝘚𝘺𝘯𝘰𝘱𝘴𝘪𝘴 - 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘪𝘴 𝘢 𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘷𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘪𝘴𝘵 𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘖𝘮𝘯𝘪𝘤 𝘤𝘳𝘪𝘴𝘪𝘴. 𝘚𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘳𝘢𝘸𝘴 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘺𝘱𝘦𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘣𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴. 𝘏𝘶𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘖𝘮𝘯𝘪𝘤𝘴 𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦. 𝘚𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘚𝘩𝘢𝘮𝘣𝘢𝘭𝘪 𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘪𝘯 𝘕𝘦𝘱𝘢𝘭 𝘩𝘰𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘮𝘶𝘯𝘪𝘵𝘺 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘳𝘦𝘧𝘶𝘨𝘦. 𝘚𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 𝘺𝘦𝘴, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘮𝘢𝘺𝘣𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘢𝘳𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘧𝘰𝘳.
3.7𝘬 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘴 * 1/3 * 𝘌𝘹𝘱𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘪𝘵 * 𝘈𝘍𝘈𝘉 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘵
𝘞𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘭𝘶𝘥𝘦 - 𝘔𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘴𝘦𝘹𝘶𝘢𝘭 𝘢𝘴𝘴𝘢𝘶𝘭𝘵, 𝘱𝘰𝘳𝘯 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘱𝘭𝘰𝘵, 𝘷𝘪𝘰𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦, 𝘱𝘢𝘴𝘵 𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧 𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘮, 𝘵𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘰𝘰𝘴, 𝘤𝘪𝘨𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘦 𝘢𝘥𝘥𝘪𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯, 𝘌𝘯𝘦𝘮𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘴
𝘈𝘭𝘴𝘰 𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘰𝘯 𝘈𝘖3 𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘥𝘰𝘮𝘩𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘰𝘸
The winds became more unforgiving as you made your way up the snow capped mountains of Nepal. It was becoming more unbearable to keep a steady pace. All you had to your name was drawing supplies and cigarettes. Your baggy sun faded robes were doing little to protect you from the chill.
You were in dire need of sustenance. All you could do was hope that this mysterious monastery wasn’t too much further. The people in the village just below were helpful enough to give you directions, even going as far as to give you some dried meat and fruit leather. Now that was all but gone.
As you walked you thought back to the tales you heard about these omnic monks. Most humans would often scoff when you asked about the monastery. Telling you they were nothing more than pretentious scrap metal trying to override their own coding.
On many occasions, you found yourself getting into heated arguments with these self proclaimed omnic hater’s. You got into the habit of getting kicked out of pubs.
You understood why many had hate in their hearts. Many humans were affected during the crisis. Families stripped and slaughtered due to mechanical hands. However that didn’t mean all omnics were out for blood. Humanity was not perfect. Humans struggled with the same genocidal atrocities throughout history. Subjecting their own kind to slavery.
Shit, thinking about the amount of human men that have attempted to rape or kill you during the war gave you a migraine. Fortunately, they were always dealt with swiftly by your hand. Unfortunately, many girls and women hadn’t been so lucky.
For in war women and children are most susceptible to torment. Whether it be at the hands of omnics or human men. Disgusting and deprived as it is.
You felt it was necessary to give the omnics grace. Could you imagine suddenly becoming sentient and unable to act for yourself — Your sole purpose being destruction or slavery. Free will had no ground. It was the fate most omnics suffered. A small percent were able to evade, but were not able to completely escape the prejudice of humankind. Most humans didn’t sympathize. All they thought about was their survival. You shared the same desire to survive, so maybe you were just one and the same as every other selfish human.
Two things can be true at once after all.
You can’t say you’ve always done right by omnics. You had slain one. Not by choice but instead by means of survival. If you let the ravager unit shred you to scarlet ribbons as they had your parents you wouldn’t be here to tell the tall tale.
The memory is still vivid. The chaos, the savagery. Screams of mothers, fathers, sons and daughters alike. Inescapable were the cry’s.
The reek of sulfur, sorrow, and intestines.
You held rage and grief at the events. But you couldn’t allow yourself to hate all omnics. They were simply carrying out what they were created for.
It was the creators of the AI who were to blame. However you had no idea who deserved your wrath. No one ever told you.
That was the rattling part.
Engineers biting off more than they can chew? A psychotic doomsday prepper obsessed with the rapture? Gods only know. Maybe the omnic monks know the depth of it all.
Your thought process was cut short as you saw a staircase come into view. Finally, You felt exhaustion tug at your eyelids. The high altitude was definitely getting to you.
Once you made it to the large wooden doors you paused. You’re heart pounding, your legs shaky. You had never actually talked to a willing omnic before. Most would ignore you or just stare aimlessly. You would always have to quickly sketch them from a distance.
This was an opportunity you couldn’t back away from.
you raised your fist and readied yourself to knock. As you made several loud hits against the aged wood — you felt your head grow dizzy, black spots dancing in your vision.
You heard commotion behind the door then a slow loud creak. Unfortunately you had slipped unconscious.
You didn’t know if it was from hunger, exhaustion, or how high in the mountains you were. Maybe all three. All you knew was your human body had gotten the better of you.
Just before you fully lost yourself, you felt strong alloy arms lift you up. Then flashes of purple. Then nothing.
You awoke to dim lighting and muffled speech. trying to grasp your bearings. You felt around. Supporting you was a soft cot. Probably one of the most comfortable things you’ve slept on in awhile.
You sat up wiping your eyes of sleep, the world finally came into focus. You were surrounded by 3 omnics. One that seemed to be a medic the others looked like monks. They dressed in light colored robes adorned their mechanical form. Your mouth betrayed you. Words would not form, instead you just stared.
You had a whole speech planned out. You would tell them you meant no harm, only a humble artist looking for her next project. You wanted to say that you were interested in the ways of their religion. You wanted to ask if they’d teach you — guide you.
But your tongue caught, your throat scratchy. It felt a little uncomfortable. Between the 4 of you no one spoke. Silently trying to figure out the motives of one another. Then the taller one of the trio spoke.
“How are you feeling, dear human?”
The male voice spoke. It was foreign with a slight melodic quality. The words calmed you.
Before you said anything you cleared your congested throat.
“I’m still feeling rather faint...”
You paused wanting to say more but you couldn’t. The omnic nodded knowingly. Motioning for the clear glass the medic was holding. He grabbed it, handing it to you with grace. You allowed a quiet thank you to pass your lips before quickly downing the refreshing liquid.
“You were cold and unresponsive when you arrived at the gates. Tell me, what brings you to these sacred grounds?”
His question wasn’t accusatory or filled with malicious intent. Instead it was even and innocent.
“My name is reader, I have come seeking refuge. I wish to capture your way of life into my artwork. Many humans have tried to dissuade me, but I came despite it. I don’t come to provoke harm.”
You finish. Gazing into their expressionless face plates. There was a beat of silence before the omnic let out a hum.
“I see, my name is master Mondatta. I appreciate your openness. We don’t get many understanding humans at the monastery. I will grant you refuge.”
Mondatta allowed you to soak in his words before continuing.
“This is brother Zenyatta and our medic sister Isis. They are the backbone of this monastery. If you need something when I am not available, they will see to your needs.”
Zenyatta gave a bow while the isis waved.
Mondatta gestured to the space around you.
“Shall be your living quarters until you decide to move on. We have rations left by other human travelers. It should last till the end of the winter season.”
Your stomach grumbled at the talk of food. You haven’t had a hot meal in 2 days. You are about to retort till he speaks again.
“I understand that you may be hungry, we will have a meal prepared soon, until then we will leave you.”
The omnics bowed before turning to leave.
Making him stop in his tracks.
“Do you mind if perhaps.. I smoke in here?”
Mondatta paused thoughtfully
“ I do not see why not. All I ask is that you be mindful of the ashes.”
“Thank you, master Mondatta. For everything really. I understand humans and omnics may not be on the same wavelength. However, I truly appreciate your hospitality.”
“Showing compassion for fellow travelers is a virtue. You are welcome, dear reader.”
You could hear the smile in his vocalizer. With that they had left your living space
Fuck, you needed a cigarette. Reaching for your bag that was neatly against the cot. Rummaging through it you find your pack— carefully grabbing one. Leaning over you, light it with a nearby pillar candle. Once lit, you inhaled deeply basking in the dreamy head rush it gave you.
You tapped the growing ash of your cigarette into the empty water cup.
While you smoked you looked around taking in your room's decor. With stone walls idly dressed in tapestries and dark colored cloth. A lit fireplace was on the other side of the room. You were thankful for the warmth it emitted.
Next to your cot was a long side table with candles and burning incense. You looked toward the one window in the room that gave way to the view outside the monastery. The wind howled against the window pane.
You could still feel the chill in your bones
You suddenly realized that your attire had changed. Your under clothing is still untouched however, your tattered robes were replaced with clean ones. The colors were black with wine purple accents. Clearly they were much too big.
Thank the gods you made it to the monastery when you did. If you had been out there any longer you surely would have succumbed to the elements. Death by turning into a human popsicle, how charming.
Your thoughts were interrupted by a knock at the door. Zenyatta entered carrying a tray with another glass and a steaming plate.
“I have come bearing sustenance.”
He chirped. Zenyatta seemed to be more youthful with his words. Reminding you of a younger brother.
You gave a small clap as he approached your bedside. The food smelled amazing. Spices wafted around you. It looked like some type of vegetable curry and rice.
“Wow, it smells delicious! Thank you kindly brother Zenyatta.”
“Just Zenyatta is fine, dear reader. No need for formalities.”
He handed you the plate. Which you gladly took. Wordlessly you started to devour the hot meal.
Zenyatta watched silently. He sat criss-cross somehow levitating mid air. You felt that it wasn’t the time to ask how or why he could do that.
“You may have realized that your clothing has been changed.”
He broke the quiet atmosphere. You wondered where this was going.
“I apologize if this question seems invasive..”
“I noticed dark patterns in your skin while we were changing you. What are they?”
It was a pointed question but held no perverse implications only, curiosity.
You didn’t mind that they changed you. Omnics likely didn’t care for the body parts of humans.
Since the war you were used to changing around a lot of people. Especially during your stays in safe houses — when privacy was a luxury not a necessity. Nudity didn’t bother you.
“Oh, they’re called tattoos. Many humans get them. It can be used as a form of self expression or story telling. I got them after everything went down. I was..uncomfortable with the state of my body.”
You reminisced about the day you decided to get your whole back done. You found a shady shop with talented people.
Intricate designs embellished your spine all the way up to the back of your neck. It hurt so fucking bad. Especially the parts that were mauled by scarred tissue.
Your loud curses filled the shop; as the artist filled out the black ink evenly.
In the end it made you happy. The tattoos showed you that there is beauty in destruction.
Two years ago you decided to add to your arms as well. Filling the space with abstract patterns that move seamlessly with your body.
It truly was incredible work even now. Aged and worn in.
“Ah I see. I’m sorry for what you’ve experienced, dear one. The artist did a wonderful job. It reminds me of someone I know.”
He seemed to feel the weight of your grief. There was an understanding that both the omnic and you had experienced great loss in this life.
“It’s fine really. We all have baggage. It’s best not to let it seep into our bones. Or in your case, mechanisms.”
He let out a light chuckle from his vocalizer. It has been a while since you heard someone laugh. It brought warmth back into your heart.
“Now then, I’ll let you settle in. Tomorrow you will meet the other patrons of this monastery.”
With that he took his leave.
The next morning was quiet. The wind had died down; leaving a fresh blanket of snow across the temple grounds. The sun shone through the glass pane. You haven’t felt this tranquil since you were a child. Gazing in awe at the scenery before you. A cigarette hangs from the corner of your lips.
If you knew you’d get to wake up to views like this every morning you’d come here a lot sooner.
A knock came from the door behind you. Once again Zenyatta greeted you with a tray. It looked to be some type of oatmeal with berries and a steaming cup of liquid.
“Greetings, I brought you breakfast.”
Zenyatta set down the try on your side table. You thanked him and smiled.
“We have much to do today. Master Mondatta asked me to tell you the plan.”
You nodded, leaning over to grab the mug. You sipped the liquid. The coffee was bittersweet, the flavor lingered on your tongue. A simple joy.
“We will be meeting with my brother. I wanted to warn you that he may be… a little intense.”
You cocked your head to the side. Intense? You hadn’t thought of any of the monks as anything less than an absolute joy. That being said, you've only met 3. Out of those 3 one didn’t even speak.
“His name is Ramattra. I am certain you have heard of Null Sectors collapse.”
Ah yes you heard of it many times in seedy pubs. Hearing that the leader finally got what he had deserved.
“Ramattra was the leader of the cause. Even with the demise of the movement, his distaste for humans is ever present. He is jaded, some may say.”
“Ah okay, should I be on guard?”
You let out a nervous chuckle.
“Physically no, Intellectually, yes. He likes to seek out true intention through intimidation.”
“He will not harm you. Not on these grounds, but instead try to best you.”
If he was anything like Zenyatta in stature you shouldn’t be too worried.
“He sounds like a character indeed. However I understand his skepticism. Omnics have endured much suffering.”
Zenyatta nodded in agreement.
“That is true, yes but I hope to lead him to a more open perspective. There is no growth within confinement.”
You mulled over his words. Finding his approach wise. Despite Zenyatta's cautionary tales you find yourself excited to meet this Ramattra. Not because you thought you could change his opinion on humans but you’d bet he has some interesting stories never uttered aloud.
You’re a sucker for a good story.
You placed your finished breakfast plate back on the tray Zenyatta had brought. He seemed to be elated by the empty plate.
“Now then, let us make our way to the prayer room.”
With that you both entered the stone pillared halls. Leaving the warmth of your sleeping quarters, you shivered.
Expansive was the monastery. Beautiful intricate carvings could be seen in the walls.
It made you a little giddy. You wondered who did the tedious artwork among the pillars.
Your eyes wandered as you continued to keep your pace with the elevating monk. You must’ve passed a dozen different rooms and winding hallways before you make it to the prayer room Zenyatta had mentioned.
Upon entering you could feel the energy shift. The room held a congregation of about a dozen monk omnics. Mats with sacred geometry were laid under each one.
They sang hymns from their vocalizers — creating a harmonious choir. They moved as if they were one body, switching from a position of prayer to raising their arms to the ceiling.
The monks were invoking something. You weren’t sure exactly what deity or celestial being they worshipped, but none the less you could feel the magnitude of its presence. It gave you a feeling that no other religion had.
It was uniquely beautiful. True tranquility.
You noted the scent of incense that heavily permeated the room. You and Zenyatta stood quietly in the back, patiently waiting for the end of their ceremony.
Then as your eyes assessed the space, you noticed a very tall still figure hidden in the darkest part of the prayer room.
You couldn’t make out the details only the outline of a staff and the shadow itself. Its aura was slightly oppressive compared to the golden light that emitted from the other monks.
You were too engrossed in the unmoving apparition you didn’t notice that the monks had started to pack up their mats.
As they walked past, all of them greeted you by shaking your hand. Making an effort to exchange names with each one. Every omnic had a vibrant personality making each interaction incredibly endearing.
You weren’t sure which one was Ramattra because all the omnics seemed to welcome your presence. Too distracted by the welcoming committee — you hadn’t seen the large figure moving towards you and Zenyatta.
You turned back to face the prayer room only to be dwarfed by a very large omnic. A ravanger unit at that.
“Ah brother Ramattra, it’s good that you bless us with your presence.”
Zenyatta greeted him warmly.
His voice. Never had you heard words spoken with such a gravelly velvet tone. It was definitively masculine. Dragging each syllable out with no rush in mind.
Conflicting emotions rose within you; he's a ravager. Your friends and family ripped away from you because of them. But now here you are silently admiring one’s voice.
He didn’t look at you as he spoke with Zenyatta. Never a glance. Not that you could even tell if he was looking at you.
It gave you time to take in his appearance. A sturdy frame, with a narrow waist, and a glorious color palette. Dark purple hues with accented black alloy. His “ribs” protruded giving a pop of silver. He wore something resembling pants; brown canvas but only at the top of his thighs. Around his neck we wore a brown scarf. His face was expressionless. If he had optics they were shrouded by a porcelain face covering. What you assumed to be his hair was a thick mane of cables.
He was an absolute unit to say the least.
Lost in your wandering thoughts you didn’t notice him actually turn to you for the first time.
“You are wearing my old robes.”
He said matter of factly. An air of arrogance was present in his tone.
“Yes, Zenyatta lended me these as a replacement for my tattered clothing.”
He seemed to consider your words. You held your ground. You wouldn’t be so easily intimidated.
“Ah yes, you were the unfortunate soul knocking on death's door that I Ramattra, so graciously plucked from the gates.”
He still carried that same snippy tone. As if you should bow before him and worship his very being.
So he was the one that carried you into the monastery. How touching.
“This is our dear artist friend, reader. She will be staying with us until she decides to continue her journeys. Master Mondatta expects that you treat her with kindness.”
Ramattra scoffed at that.
“Have we stooped so low in followers that we must allow humans to take up space in this monastery.”
Clearly not happy with you staying in the same temple as him. Gods forbid.
“Reader is here to study our history and artistry. She holds no prejudice against us omnics.”
“How can you be so certain? She was on the brink of death. Perhaps she is only here out of desperation of her own eminent demise. You can not know for sure if she doesn’t scheme against us.”
He does not know you, yet he sits there and acts like he knows what you’ve endured.
“Quite the assumption dear brother. How can you know her true intentions? We cannot know surely; innocent until proven guilty rules over all. You should have that understanding, Ramattra.”
Zenyatta defends. He tries to end this situation before it escalates.
“You have no idea what I have suffered to be here in this beautiful ancient monastery. Do not sit there and act as if you are holier than thou.”
You couldn’t let Zenyatta be the one to defend you. Now was the time to stand on your truth.
“You humans are so sure of yourselves; so sure of your intentions, when you have no idea what your species is capable of.”
“Excuse me, I have EVERY idea of what my species has done. I do not endorse it nor do I deny it. You cannot act as if every human is out to get you. You’ll never change because of that.”
“Perhaps that is the way iris intends it to be.”
He has to bend down to be anywhere near your level. his tone lowered with something of an aggressive edge.
Master Mondatta had appeared. He did not seem mad but rather wanted to defuse the situation.
“Brother Ramattra, I believe we had an agreement to be courteous to all residents at this monastery. There is no need to question her morals.”
“I will be taking my leave to the archives anyhow. I bid you all a pleasant evening.”
With a bow he briskly left the room.
He had not at all been what you imagined. Assumption is a fragile concept you supposed.
Hit the flow state and wrote this drunk on vacation hope y'all fw with it. New chapter is in the works now!
andulkaphoto
snowghoul
janainaart
yousharknotpass
