The Domestic Life of Taelli Darktoggle
Posted: Fri Jul 15, 2011 9:38 pm
Part 1
Taelli Darktoggle is not antisocial. Not exactly.
‘Antisocial’ is a term loaded with many connotations and implications and motivations that she is currently unwilling to unpack, partly because Common is not her first language and partly because she is trying very hard to not accidently create a new strain of Plague. With the materials she is currently handling, it is not an impossibility. A small pop comes from inside the delicate glass flask she is holding over a green flame. A small sigh escapes her lips. Antisocial is a term for people who theoretically could interact with others and pretend to be normal, not for people who love, actually love, watching things in flasks go pop in failure. That pop just wasted many hours worth of calculations and materials purchasing and sample gathering. She should be annoyed, and go get a drink. She is elated, but will still take that drink.
You probably shouldn’t be drinking and doing science at the same time, a tiny voice attempts to reason over the buzz of other thoughts. It gets ignored, as per standard procedures.
The flask is thrown into a bin below her worktable with all the care of a thunderstorm in a flower meadow. It makes a satisfying smashing noise. She makes her way toward the stairs leading up out of her lab, away from the addictive clink and pop and smash of her work, shedding her protective coat and goggles along the way. When she reaches for the door latch, she realizes something is making a satisfying smashing noise in her apartments.
That’s my son, she thinks fondly. That’s a misdemeanor, says the voice.
It turned out to be neither, in a strict interpretation of events. The partly-enchanted rug under the dining table, the one that likes to bite feet, had attempted to make an escape out the front door while BB was constructing a tower out of empty bottles salvaged from the debris outside the nearest pub. The escape had failed, leaving nothing but a skewed dining table and a room full of stars from the light reflecting off of broken glass. BB was staring at the ceiling, fascinated. So was Taelli.
A remarkable amount of child-to-parent similarities, she thinks clinically, despite the utter lack of blood relationship. A textbook argument for nurture over nature, though unlikely to ever be used as such, except maybe in a court of law, but if that were the case there would probably be larger fish to fry. I do hope I have taught him well enough to avoid jail. That would be inconvenient for both of us, as I would be forced to break him out using my skills as an alchemist, and no doubt –that much- raw sodium would be rather impractical to carry around, entirely obvious, no it would have to be something much more subtle, perhaps a ferrivorous acid of some kind-
BB steps on a piece of glass with a heavy boot. It shatters. He giggles. Taelli smiles.
She wants to say I love you so much I would break you out of prison by melting the bars off with science, but it comes out “Please do not leave the glass on the floor,” and Taelli prays to a power she doesn’t believe in that he will someday understand that they mean the exact same thing.
Taelli Darktoggle is not antisocial. Not exactly.
‘Antisocial’ is a term loaded with many connotations and implications and motivations that she is currently unwilling to unpack, partly because Common is not her first language and partly because she is trying very hard to not accidently create a new strain of Plague. With the materials she is currently handling, it is not an impossibility. A small pop comes from inside the delicate glass flask she is holding over a green flame. A small sigh escapes her lips. Antisocial is a term for people who theoretically could interact with others and pretend to be normal, not for people who love, actually love, watching things in flasks go pop in failure. That pop just wasted many hours worth of calculations and materials purchasing and sample gathering. She should be annoyed, and go get a drink. She is elated, but will still take that drink.
You probably shouldn’t be drinking and doing science at the same time, a tiny voice attempts to reason over the buzz of other thoughts. It gets ignored, as per standard procedures.
The flask is thrown into a bin below her worktable with all the care of a thunderstorm in a flower meadow. It makes a satisfying smashing noise. She makes her way toward the stairs leading up out of her lab, away from the addictive clink and pop and smash of her work, shedding her protective coat and goggles along the way. When she reaches for the door latch, she realizes something is making a satisfying smashing noise in her apartments.
That’s my son, she thinks fondly. That’s a misdemeanor, says the voice.
It turned out to be neither, in a strict interpretation of events. The partly-enchanted rug under the dining table, the one that likes to bite feet, had attempted to make an escape out the front door while BB was constructing a tower out of empty bottles salvaged from the debris outside the nearest pub. The escape had failed, leaving nothing but a skewed dining table and a room full of stars from the light reflecting off of broken glass. BB was staring at the ceiling, fascinated. So was Taelli.
A remarkable amount of child-to-parent similarities, she thinks clinically, despite the utter lack of blood relationship. A textbook argument for nurture over nature, though unlikely to ever be used as such, except maybe in a court of law, but if that were the case there would probably be larger fish to fry. I do hope I have taught him well enough to avoid jail. That would be inconvenient for both of us, as I would be forced to break him out using my skills as an alchemist, and no doubt –that much- raw sodium would be rather impractical to carry around, entirely obvious, no it would have to be something much more subtle, perhaps a ferrivorous acid of some kind-
BB steps on a piece of glass with a heavy boot. It shatters. He giggles. Taelli smiles.
She wants to say I love you so much I would break you out of prison by melting the bars off with science, but it comes out “Please do not leave the glass on the floor,” and Taelli prays to a power she doesn’t believe in that he will someday understand that they mean the exact same thing.