The Golden Hymn and the New-Found Flesh
By Limewah
Commission for LordofNaught and GrumpyGoat
18+

Part III

–

Once upon a time, beneath the bottom of the deep black sea, lived two great beings. Terrible and glorious to behold, and totally apathetic to the world above them. The only emotion they ever expended on the mortals above was outright contempt, if that. Mortals were noisy, awful, quarrelsome things, and they always threatened to disturb the two’s long rest.
However, they had nothing but love for one another. And they showered each other with gifts, moulded from the primordial matter that surrounded them like the water of the womb.
One of the gifts was a shaggy, scurrying creature who was always seeking out novelty and sustenance, always living in the moment, and providing ceaseless entertainment and amusement.
The other was a beautiful statue of pale white stone. Inside that statue’s chest was a heart of gold, and a mind of diamond. 
These gifts inspired the Great Ones to even deeper love, and they soon expressed that love in the purest possible way. 
They created a child, in a womb of gold, and bestowed him with all of their best qualities. The joys of insanity, the poise of intellect. His lower half was moulded from the creature. The beast’s neck became a tail, its mouth endlessly gibbering. The statue was used to mould the upper cervine body. Marble and sunlight suffused him from the torso up, and dark flesh comprised everything below.
They gave him the name of Canthus.

And as all young things do, it was not long before Canthus set out on his own, to seek love. In particular, he wondered what the love of a mortal would feel upon his flesh.
His parents warned him away from such things. “Leave them alone,” they told him, “They are filthy, venal little beasts. They have little more use to us than pets, if even that.”
“But do we not love our pets?” Canthus would ask, and they would only scoff at him and shoo him away.
Soon, his questions and protests lead him to a more involuntary sort of leaving. He was banished to some forgotten, lonely island between the planes of the mortals and the damned. 
But he was not deterred. After all, that liminal space allowed him an easier way to push past the veil between worlds and see those beautiful fragile little things.

When he first entered the world, he came across so many beautiful people. But his love was too much for them. Their hearts and minds burned away entirely until they were little more than empty husks, drained of all of the qualities that attracted Canthus to him.
Each time it happened, it pained him greatly.
It soon became clear that his form was too great, too beautiful and terrible to handle, and he left many beautiful empty creatures in his wake, following behind him like docile animals. 
So he bestowed his essence on those empty husks, turning them into vessels and proxies for his beautiful aura. Through them, he was able to taste the world, and its people. He imparted a bit of himself into each one - indiscriminate passion for some, calculating charisma for others. They would come to set up communities of their own, all of them joined in worship of the being who gave them his essence.

Canthus was saddened, though. Because even when he tasted the world through his proxies, it had a sense of phantom distance to it. At most, he was a somewhat active spectator, guiding the hands and mouths but unable to feel more than a phantom sensation of his own. 
What is more… none of the new thralls and disciples he found gave him the same intense feelings of love he had when he first arrived in the mortal realm. 
And so it has continued ever since. 
He has never allowed himself to be truly vulnerable. Truly open. Afraid to allow himself to love, to allow the inevitable heartbreak when it is lost.
He thought he might never experience that feeling again.
Until a lonely voice called out to him, from somewhere in an unremembered, impossible dream.
A beast, in a sense. A statue, in a sense. Cultivated by mortal hands, in the image of a mortal, and yet more than that. A being who wielded great, wonderful power, able to tame the chaos of the world. 
And inside the heart of silicon and the mind of cobalt, there lay a secret, unknown loneliness.  Canthus saw the same desire for intimacy, tempered by the necessity of holding themself back.
He needed to be completed, just as Canthus had.
So Canthus decided there was nothing else to be done but to reveal himself in his true splendour.

“The story will continue from here,” I say. I’ve watched his face the whole time. The beautiful steeliness of his gaze has not changed one iota. But he has been listening and observing.
That means he can think, that he can feel. For my stories never fail to enthral. One cannot help but feel the emotions of the story so deeply and profoundly. 
And yet… it does not work on him, the way it works on other beings. He must be aware of that fact. 
I sense the longing in him. I catch a glint of loneliness across those synthetic eyes for just the briefest moment when I add him into the tale.
All of what I told him is true, bar some omissions, but those may be saved for when his induction is complete and the work may begin.
“All this is to say… you are the one I have been so desperately searching for.”
I reach for his face. He has released my sibling’s tail. It remains still and silent, allowing me to bring my lips towards his. It’s slow, and tentative.
He does not move away, but he does not lean in. 
He does not resist, but he does not reciprocate.
I kiss his cold, hard lips, and pray that they warm and soften for me.
My prayers ooze from my mouth.

5. 

Aurora.

His lips.
They feel curious against mine. 
At first I feel nothing aside from sensation of physical contact. The pressure isn’t forceful. It does not feel like an invasion, and I feel no reason or desire to
I detect a fluid substance.
I taste it. 
I understand what taste means.
…How do I even describe it. 
You understand how it feels to be touched, and the pleasure it brings. It’s an intrinsic thing.
But how do I even describe experiencing it for the first time, having never known what it was like in the first place?
The closest I can imagine is the moment I first came online, into consciousness.
Or when I am buffeted by the change of pressure while ascending into the atmosphere.
Or when my complex emotions were programmed into me.

It makes my eyes warm and wet. 
Warm and wet. 
They’ve never felt that way before. That warmth and wetness penetrates into my processor, and my face compresses. My throat compresses. I feel…
I feel.
I experienced emotion. But I never felt it till now
I thought I was playing along. I thought it would give me the opportunity to gain the upper hand on him. But this… it’s the nectar. 

I pull away at last and expel the sweet fluid from my mouth. I could have attacked. But I hesitate. There’s something about the demon. Not pitiful. But sweet. Beautiful. How could I raise my hand against someone so lonely and terrified?
I have experienced pity before. But never like this. Never to the point where - 

I lift a finger to my eye, and wipe away the damp. The fluid from the synthetic tear ducts is meant to only expel when needed to remove small debris. It’s flowing freely.
With it, the tightness intensifies, the insides of my throat and my chest imploding and exploding, unsure whether they want to escape or expand.
“You feel it, don’t you,” Canthus says. “That ache. That longing. The way mortals feel it.”
“I…” my voice sounds strange. Tense and quivering. It’s a new quality. I’ve seen… organics go through this, in varying stages of grief, or relief.
The more the fluid pours, the weaker the tightness becomes. A feeling of calm like cool mist through me. I continue to cry. 
“There…” Canthus steps to me, and reaches for me again. I want to feel his hand on my face, his lips on my lips…

No.
NO.

I tear my gaze away and blast out of the outpost, straight up through the roof. I push as hard as I can to escape the range of the Yellow Signal, aiming for the blizzard up ahead.
This is wrong. This feels wrong.
This feels too nice to be right.
I can’t allow myself to feel this way.
It’s terrifying. More terrifying than I ever imagined.
A hole I never knew I had is filling.
An unknown parameter, a bug in my system that was never patched, because it was deemed to be a feature. A ‘feature’ that has secretly been torturing me all this time.
What have I been missing…?
I could have felt pride when crowds applauded for me at my unveiling.
I could have felt sympathy for grieving civilians, who lost their loved ones.
I could have understood why Doctor Parthe told me she loved me, so desperately, before she was reassigned away from me.

All these moments I was denied.

The Yellow Signal penetrates into me. It’s not growing stronger, I am getting far away from the source. But… I’m listening to it now. Really listening to it. I hear the song within it. 
It’s seductive.
I’m being seduced.
This is all… strange. New.
Exciting.
My face - my cranial - no, my face - feels warm. 
I turn back towards the base, and stare down at its glow. 
I can’t leave just yet.
I have to stop him. 
That’s what I tell myself.
Though
What if
What if I
And he
Could
Something
Be 
Could
We
Be…?

I stop. I look at myself. I touch myself.
I feel the cold. The chill against my chassis. But it’s not just a chassis anymore. It feels like armour, covering my true self. My muscles and flesh. My organs and bones.
Something expels from my mouth.
Exhaust? Moisture.
Breath.
I feel it. I am… becoming…
But it’s stalling. I’m somewhere between flesh and metal. Between organic and machine.
The signal, the Song, I didn’t catch all of it, I need to hear the rest of it, it will complete me.

I know what I must do.
I must go back to him.
To Him.

6.

Canthus.

Aurora is returning to me. 
I refused to give chase. I knew he would. I saw the conflict in the poor, beautiful thing’s eyes. 
Already, he’s changed for the better.
My song swirls in his eyes. Too late for him to realise, and notice that his whole countenance has already changed. To most outside observers, he would look exactly the same. But underneath the alloys, between the joints of his armour, I can see his limbs, his flesh. The rise and fall of his chest as he respirates through new lungs. The feathers falling from his beautiful wings, halfway between mortal and machine. He quivers and shakes as he approaches me, trying and failing to find the words to give voice to the new thoughts, the feelings flooding his mind and body. 
He is mine.
And soon he will understand I am his.

I hold my hands out to him, and I part my lips. His eyes fixate on my lips, my nectar mouth. I don’t provoke him. I invite him, and he moves to accept my invitation.
He stops, just shy of me. Just shy of them. His breath caresses my face. I place my hands on his cheeks, and gaze upon him.
His breath smells of copper and ozone. That will have to be fixed. He’s still not quite complete.
I let my pores sing, and bathe him with my golden song. He almost closes his eyes. My beautiful pegasus. 
He does not understand how he ruins me. But he will, in due time.
I’ll make sure of that.
I kiss him, and he melts into my embrace. 
My body is pure pleasure. He drinks of it, like it is a desert oasis and he has not drank in days.

I hear the voices of my servants, my darling mortals, moaning and crying out in unison with me. A sound I am sure the whole world will hear.
His tongue is awkward - shy at first, then overly pushy, the way most first kisses tend to be. I can’t fault him for that. I take him in my embrace. My tail keeps quiet, but curls around Aurora’s thigh. It breathes between Aurora’s legs, and I catch him gasping.

“That is new to you, isn’t it?” I ask him.
“Sexual.. Pleasure? Yes,” he admits, sheepish and confused.
“Can you even describe it in the terms of a machine?”
“Endorphins, relaxants and stimulants released into the bloodstream-”
“No,” I say gently. “Not the dry methods of a machine. Talk to me like the self you are discovering, even now. Your true self. Your perfect self.”
I look at him, and into him. Eye to eye. I can see them change. The depths of feeling, the true spark of mortal pleasure that was always there turning into a bright flame. 
“It’s… warm. I feel so warm. It feels… uncomfortable, sort of painful, and-” he cuts off with a gasp as my lower half breathes on him. Biting and nibbling at the plate that grows tighter and more turgid. It pulls and pries until it’s free, and his new appendage is bathed in warmth. My warmth.
“It’s even stronger now, isn’t it.” I know it’s true. I whisper to him. “Do you want to explore this more?”
“Y…yes…” he croaks.
“Well, then.” I smile. “I would like to take you away from prying mortal eyes, and know you better. Shall we?”
He doesn’t hesitate. He gives in. 
“Do you still feel what makes you special?” 
“What do.. You mean?” he asks.
“Your powers. Your control over the elements, the things that give you purpose.”
“I don’t need them…” he says, quicker than I anticipated. He is so sweet.
“You will not lose them, regardless,” I reassure him. “You and I have much to do together, and those wonderful gifts… they will remain. But not through the works of mortals. Through my gifts.”

It’s trivial to repurpose them with my song. The compartments that hold propelling fluid are turned to flesh, but suffused with my golden essence. His wings turn to a sort of burnished bronze, the bright whites and blues starting to be ‘tainted’ by my tones. 
But I do not change much more than that, at least for now. Hard to improve on much else, on someone so close to perfection. To the thing I’ve been searching for for so long.
I kiss him again. 
“Gorgeous,” I whisper.
He whispers it back to me. Like a response to a prayer.
“I want to show you something, my Love.”
Before he can ask, I  pull him backwards, and we fall, fall, fall through the centre of the earth as though it were water.
I leave my other servants, and this icy place behind.
I bring Aurora home.
He looks scared, even though we aren’t anywhere approaching the speeds he was used to in his robotic form. 

It only lasts a few seconds, and then it is over.
Then we are home.
An island in a vast dark sea, serene and perhaps lonely. An obsidian temple spire jutting above a deep, tangled forest. I release him from my grasp, and he flutters like a baby bird for a moment before he rights himself. Flying comes as easily to him as it did before. His wings unfurl and carry him as effortlessly as he had been carried before. My song continues to guide him. I allow myself to fly ahead, and take him on a long, slow, silent tour of my beautiful prison. 
…I haven’t had anyone here in so, so very long.
Mortals never last long. The beauty of this place drives them mad, or makes them age a hundred years in a blink of an eye. 
I had a brief fear that this would happen to Aurora, as well, as it had to many before him. Would his newly discovered mortality make him vulnerable?

I am relieved to feel his presence hewing close behind me. I look behind. I see such awe on his beautiful face, and it almost makes me falter in my course.
He is truly magical.
I guide him towards the open window at the top of my temple.
Excitement builds. My tail gibbers with excitement.
Soon we will lie together… 
And then, such pleasures we will share.
We will share them with you, too.

The Final Part will be posted in May 2023

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