Post by Ladorak on Nov 17, 2010 2:00:05 GMT -5
The cabin door creaked open, and the stoat Captain glanced up from the book he had been reading. Ladorak Fugate was not at his desk, but was rather reclining against his massive stern window array, sitting on the padded bench that ran the length of the stern of his cabin. Lowering the book, a smile traced its way over the stoat's lips.
"Caden...what can I do for you?" the midday sun splashed through the glass, bathing the molting stoat in a gentle glow, like marigolds coming into bloom.
The pine marten shuffled his paws shyly in the door way, finally managing to turn around and close the door behind him. "I'm sorry Ladorak...I had free time and well...I wanted to talk to you. The Marines let me in...I guess they know me well enough now." the albino explained with a shrug.
"Well come in...come in. Here...have a seat." Ladorak patted the cushion next to his, moving over (though this seemed a mere formality, as the bench was big enough to fit twenty beasts quite comfortably). "What's on your mind?" the Captain studied the approaching marten over his spectacles,
"Well..." Caden settled into his place, leaning against the window panes, in awe at the great view out of the back of the ship. "I was just wondering...where do we come from? Where do creatures like...me come from?" he asked, his pink eyes blinking. The stoat hesitated, opening his mouth to take in a breath of air.
"Well...Caden...that's a question many beasts have tried to answer. To simplify...you came from your mother and father. A union of two martens that produced you."
"Right but...it's more than that. Why do I look like this? I'm white...and my mom was brown."
"Ah...yes...your physical appearance."
"And more...it's more than my mom and my dad. My dad...doesn't exist to me...he never did. He died when I was a few months old...who was he? I never knew him. Even though I know he existed and that he was real...to me...it's as if he never lived in the first place. And my mom? Barely remember her. A few flashes here and there...and she was a bad beast...from what I've been told. She had...problems."
"Yes...she did." said after some hesitation. The book thudded closed now, no longer needed. "Caden...I understand that. Not feeling as if you have an origin...that's...a very confusing thing for a stripling your age. If you don't know where you came from...how can you say you are real? Or that you exist? I understand." the stoat said sympathetically. "Knowing where you come from...that's what we ask ourselves. Were you forged by some god, made to look the way you do through some divine design? Were you a mixture of how your parents look, as some scientists theorize? You might be white because some of your ancestors were...we don't fully understand that field...but dominance is understood to an extent. Some traits simply...overpower others. But where do you come from? I asked myself this very question...I too grew up without parents for the longest time. I didn't even know my father was alive until...well ten years ago. And my mother...she died giving birth to me." the stoat explained, his brow creased with remembrance.
"You are not at fault...you are not some freak...you are a wonderful, wonderful marten Caden. And let me tell you why." the stoat reached over to poke his ward affectionately. "You look different from others...but we all do. There's no such thing as normal. My head fur for instance...you can't really see it because my brown is fading but...you know that white patch on my head, near my right ear? It's on my summer coat, and it never changes to brown." the albino nodded.
"Well that's hardly normal. It's my birth mark...because I am unique...I am a one of a kind, individual stoat...even if I look mostly the same to other stoats. Well...you are a white furred, and pink eyed marten...because like me, you are unique, and you're not the only one who looks like that. There are other albinos...they aren't as common...but it doesn't make you a freak. That one white splotch sets me apart from every other stoat, Caden...just like your eyes and fur set you apart from other martens. Look at the common weasel...their white underbelly fur is jagged, and no two patterns are alike. We look different from each other because we're unique...each and every one of us."
Caden regarded Ladorak with an even face, hints of a smile creeping in, though he tried not to show it. "Some of us...just look more different than others. It's not about that though...it's about how we act and interact with others. What our personalities are. Have you ever met another marten...much less another creature exactly like you? I can't imagine you have. We're not...supposed to be the same Caden. We're supposed to be different from each other. Imagine how boring it would be if we were all stoats, and all looked exactly alike, and all thought and spoke the same way, and had the same ideas. Well...how could we ever tell each other apart? You look and act the way you do because you are you...and I am me. Those who would mock you...or ridicule you for being different...they're afraid...they're afraid of what they don't understand..."
Here Ladorak paused, scratching his cheek with a silvery claw. "We...tend to fear things we don't understand. It only reflects our own foolishness. I look at you and see something impressive, and unique, and very handsome. Others might be scared, but only because you look different. If they really got to know you...well...what would they possibly have to fear from you? You're not vicious, nor belligerent. You are one of a kind Caden...there are other albino martens...but there is only one you." he lifted Caden's chin now with the side of a claw, gazing down at him.
"Molly said I was an angel...and that you were a god who forsook his immortality to help others...and that I would help others too...is this true?"
"Heh...did she now? Well...if I'm an immortal I most certainly have no recollection of it. I'd say it's more within the realm of conjecture that you could be an angel Caden. You came to me without me ever knowing I'd take you in until I did. If you feel lost...don't be. You have a home with me...and friends who do care about you. What is an angel after all? A spirit? A gentle creature who helps others? An innocent soul who feels lost and alone? Who knows...yes...you may very well be an angel my son." it was the first time Ladorak had spoken those words this entire encounter.
"Could you be my dad...somehow?"
"I am your father Caden...or at least I'm trying to be. If you want to see me as such because it would help you feel better...go right ahead. I'll always be here." The marten leaned in to hug the stoat, and the stoat closed his eyes, hugging his ward back. "You belong...you will always belong. Now...why don't you go and find your friends? And hold your head high. You are one of a kind...we are all one of a kind."
The albino nodded, and slid off the seat, waving as he exited the cabin. The stoat watched him go, some tears glistening like diamonds in the midday sun as he moved to dab away the moisture. Where do we come from? Why are we here? Does it really matter so much to answer questions such as these? Everyone has their own answer, and so long as one feels they do have purpose and meaning, even if it is something small to cling to, one should never doubt. The garden is beautiful right? Why bother trying to explain why the garden is beautiful? Who cares? Just enjoy your beautiful garden...for isn't that enough?
The stoat picked up his book, and went back to reading.
"Caden...what can I do for you?" the midday sun splashed through the glass, bathing the molting stoat in a gentle glow, like marigolds coming into bloom.
The pine marten shuffled his paws shyly in the door way, finally managing to turn around and close the door behind him. "I'm sorry Ladorak...I had free time and well...I wanted to talk to you. The Marines let me in...I guess they know me well enough now." the albino explained with a shrug.
"Well come in...come in. Here...have a seat." Ladorak patted the cushion next to his, moving over (though this seemed a mere formality, as the bench was big enough to fit twenty beasts quite comfortably). "What's on your mind?" the Captain studied the approaching marten over his spectacles,
"Well..." Caden settled into his place, leaning against the window panes, in awe at the great view out of the back of the ship. "I was just wondering...where do we come from? Where do creatures like...me come from?" he asked, his pink eyes blinking. The stoat hesitated, opening his mouth to take in a breath of air.
"Well...Caden...that's a question many beasts have tried to answer. To simplify...you came from your mother and father. A union of two martens that produced you."
"Right but...it's more than that. Why do I look like this? I'm white...and my mom was brown."
"Ah...yes...your physical appearance."
"And more...it's more than my mom and my dad. My dad...doesn't exist to me...he never did. He died when I was a few months old...who was he? I never knew him. Even though I know he existed and that he was real...to me...it's as if he never lived in the first place. And my mom? Barely remember her. A few flashes here and there...and she was a bad beast...from what I've been told. She had...problems."
"Yes...she did." said after some hesitation. The book thudded closed now, no longer needed. "Caden...I understand that. Not feeling as if you have an origin...that's...a very confusing thing for a stripling your age. If you don't know where you came from...how can you say you are real? Or that you exist? I understand." the stoat said sympathetically. "Knowing where you come from...that's what we ask ourselves. Were you forged by some god, made to look the way you do through some divine design? Were you a mixture of how your parents look, as some scientists theorize? You might be white because some of your ancestors were...we don't fully understand that field...but dominance is understood to an extent. Some traits simply...overpower others. But where do you come from? I asked myself this very question...I too grew up without parents for the longest time. I didn't even know my father was alive until...well ten years ago. And my mother...she died giving birth to me." the stoat explained, his brow creased with remembrance.
"You are not at fault...you are not some freak...you are a wonderful, wonderful marten Caden. And let me tell you why." the stoat reached over to poke his ward affectionately. "You look different from others...but we all do. There's no such thing as normal. My head fur for instance...you can't really see it because my brown is fading but...you know that white patch on my head, near my right ear? It's on my summer coat, and it never changes to brown." the albino nodded.
"Well that's hardly normal. It's my birth mark...because I am unique...I am a one of a kind, individual stoat...even if I look mostly the same to other stoats. Well...you are a white furred, and pink eyed marten...because like me, you are unique, and you're not the only one who looks like that. There are other albinos...they aren't as common...but it doesn't make you a freak. That one white splotch sets me apart from every other stoat, Caden...just like your eyes and fur set you apart from other martens. Look at the common weasel...their white underbelly fur is jagged, and no two patterns are alike. We look different from each other because we're unique...each and every one of us."
Caden regarded Ladorak with an even face, hints of a smile creeping in, though he tried not to show it. "Some of us...just look more different than others. It's not about that though...it's about how we act and interact with others. What our personalities are. Have you ever met another marten...much less another creature exactly like you? I can't imagine you have. We're not...supposed to be the same Caden. We're supposed to be different from each other. Imagine how boring it would be if we were all stoats, and all looked exactly alike, and all thought and spoke the same way, and had the same ideas. Well...how could we ever tell each other apart? You look and act the way you do because you are you...and I am me. Those who would mock you...or ridicule you for being different...they're afraid...they're afraid of what they don't understand..."
Here Ladorak paused, scratching his cheek with a silvery claw. "We...tend to fear things we don't understand. It only reflects our own foolishness. I look at you and see something impressive, and unique, and very handsome. Others might be scared, but only because you look different. If they really got to know you...well...what would they possibly have to fear from you? You're not vicious, nor belligerent. You are one of a kind Caden...there are other albino martens...but there is only one you." he lifted Caden's chin now with the side of a claw, gazing down at him.
"Molly said I was an angel...and that you were a god who forsook his immortality to help others...and that I would help others too...is this true?"
"Heh...did she now? Well...if I'm an immortal I most certainly have no recollection of it. I'd say it's more within the realm of conjecture that you could be an angel Caden. You came to me without me ever knowing I'd take you in until I did. If you feel lost...don't be. You have a home with me...and friends who do care about you. What is an angel after all? A spirit? A gentle creature who helps others? An innocent soul who feels lost and alone? Who knows...yes...you may very well be an angel my son." it was the first time Ladorak had spoken those words this entire encounter.
"Could you be my dad...somehow?"
"I am your father Caden...or at least I'm trying to be. If you want to see me as such because it would help you feel better...go right ahead. I'll always be here." The marten leaned in to hug the stoat, and the stoat closed his eyes, hugging his ward back. "You belong...you will always belong. Now...why don't you go and find your friends? And hold your head high. You are one of a kind...we are all one of a kind."
The albino nodded, and slid off the seat, waving as he exited the cabin. The stoat watched him go, some tears glistening like diamonds in the midday sun as he moved to dab away the moisture. Where do we come from? Why are we here? Does it really matter so much to answer questions such as these? Everyone has their own answer, and so long as one feels they do have purpose and meaning, even if it is something small to cling to, one should never doubt. The garden is beautiful right? Why bother trying to explain why the garden is beautiful? Who cares? Just enjoy your beautiful garden...for isn't that enough?
The stoat picked up his book, and went back to reading.