They don't understand. None of them will ever understand.
They just can't see the elegance in your science. Yet, they're willing to push at literary and artistic boundaries, political and moral matters, exploit human despair for their gain - photographs in museums across the globe. They can't see just how lovely your creations truly are.
Unethical, they call you.
But why should they care? Your subjects are willing. Street trash willing to sell themselves for a crust of bread. You're giving them a home, love, appreciation. You don't ask them for anything other than their consent to the treatments.
You run a hand through your hair and sigh.
You were the first. If you hadn't survived, none of them would have even known about your science.
But because of the power of creation and understanding, you were able to manipulate the very fabric of existence.
You have fins, and gills, and webbed phalanges. You can breath underwater and swim like a dolphin. The purple streak an after effect, and not present in any other patient since you found the cause in yourself. And you are so very beautiful.
Today, you will be working with Tavros. And the potential you see in him sends a shockwave straight to your groin. You're almost ashamed to admit that, but feel reassured in yourself since it has not happened with any of your other patients.
A small young woman with blue cat ears and a happily twitching tail crosses your path and smiles up at you with big olive eyes under her bob of black hair. She carries a tray of milk and cookies towards the small playground across the yard. Those darling children, Sollux and Aradia, pass buckets and shovels back and forth in the sandbox with their telekinetics.
There is nothing but beauty and refinement here.
You make your way further down the path from the main house, your house, towards the laboratory building.
Your toes tingle in anticipation. By your calculation, he should be emerging today from that glorious silken cocoon he wove. At any time now. Your heart races faster with each step.
Swinging the door open, your breath leaves you.
He stands there, by the small kitchen area, digging into a large bowl of lettuce. He's nude, more muscular and taller than before he wrapped himself in silk.
You draw near him, his burnt orange eyes gaze up at you fondly.
Behind him, something drapes. Something you'd suspect to be a cape if didn't know better.
"Can you spread them yet," your voice wavers.
Tavros grins, steps towards you. He towers over you by a good half foot as he holds your gaze.
"Dr. Ampora," he sighs at you.
With a rush of wind around you, his wings snap open. Like a tan butterfly, patterned and shimmering. You gasp. Tears begin to well in your eyes. This may truly be your best work yet.
"May I?" you ask while lifting a trembling hand.
He turns around and lets you inspect where the wings meet his tanned flesh.
Your fingers prod the muscles and bones where they come together. He moans. Softly, you ghost a hand over the crest of his right wing. He gasps. You place a kiss to the join. His knees weaken.
So you kiss more. You kiss and you touch and you worship him. Because he deserves it so much. He is the walking and breathing and gorgeous embodiment of your artistry.
What a blessing science truly is!
He spins on his heel toward you. Tavros cups one of your facial fins in his hand and pulls your mouth to his.
"Dr. Ampora. I need to tell you..." he mumbles against your lips.
"Go on, Tav," you pant.
"I can fly."
Your eyes widen. Now you know you're crying. This! This is art! This is magnificence and perfection. This is what science is capable of... and when the world sees Tavros, they will never understand. They will shun him and persecute you, and it would destroy the both of you.
You kiss him again, his lips, his face, his neck. You bury yourself in his chest as his arms wrap around you.
"Thank you," he whispers into your hair.
And screw the world for their ignorance and closed-mindedness. Just fuck them.
Because this is all the satisfaction and affirmation of the rightness of your work that you will ever need.
FILL: TEAM Aradia<>Dave
They just can't see the elegance in your science. Yet, they're willing to push at literary and artistic boundaries, political and moral matters, exploit human despair for their gain - photographs in museums across the globe. They can't see just how lovely your creations truly are.
Unethical, they call you.
But why should they care? Your subjects are willing. Street trash willing to sell themselves for a crust of bread. You're giving them a home, love, appreciation. You don't ask them for anything other than their consent to the treatments.
You run a hand through your hair and sigh.
You were the first. If you hadn't survived, none of them would have even known about your science.
But because of the power of creation and understanding, you were able to manipulate the very fabric of existence.
You have fins, and gills, and webbed phalanges. You can breath underwater and swim like a dolphin. The purple streak an after effect, and not present in any other patient since you found the cause in yourself. And you are so very beautiful.
Today, you will be working with Tavros. And the potential you see in him sends a shockwave straight to your groin. You're almost ashamed to admit that, but feel reassured in yourself since it has not happened with any of your other patients.
A small young woman with blue cat ears and a happily twitching tail crosses your path and smiles up at you with big olive eyes under her bob of black hair. She carries a tray of milk and cookies towards the small playground across the yard. Those darling children, Sollux and Aradia, pass buckets and shovels back and forth in the sandbox with their telekinetics.
There is nothing but beauty and refinement here.
You make your way further down the path from the main house, your house, towards the laboratory building.
Your toes tingle in anticipation. By your calculation, he should be emerging today from that glorious silken cocoon he wove. At any time now. Your heart races faster with each step.
Swinging the door open, your breath leaves you.
He stands there, by the small kitchen area, digging into a large bowl of lettuce. He's nude, more muscular and taller than before he wrapped himself in silk.
You draw near him, his burnt orange eyes gaze up at you fondly.
Behind him, something drapes. Something you'd suspect to be a cape if didn't know better.
"Can you spread them yet," your voice wavers.
Tavros grins, steps towards you. He towers over you by a good half foot as he holds your gaze.
"Dr. Ampora," he sighs at you.
With a rush of wind around you, his wings snap open. Like a tan butterfly, patterned and shimmering. You gasp. Tears begin to well in your eyes. This may truly be your best work yet.
"May I?" you ask while lifting a trembling hand.
He turns around and lets you inspect where the wings meet his tanned flesh.
Your fingers prod the muscles and bones where they come together. He moans.
Softly, you ghost a hand over the crest of his right wing. He gasps.
You place a kiss to the join. His knees weaken.
So you kiss more. You kiss and you touch and you worship him. Because he deserves it so much. He is the walking and breathing and gorgeous embodiment of your artistry.
What a blessing science truly is!
He spins on his heel toward you. Tavros cups one of your facial fins in his hand and pulls your mouth to his.
"Dr. Ampora. I need to tell you..." he mumbles against your lips.
"Go on, Tav," you pant.
"I can fly."
Your eyes widen. Now you know you're crying. This! This is art! This is magnificence and perfection. This is what science is capable of... and when the world sees Tavros, they will never understand. They will shun him and persecute you, and it would destroy the both of you.
You kiss him again, his lips, his face, his neck. You bury yourself in his chest as his arms wrap around you.
"Thank you," he whispers into your hair.
And screw the world for their ignorance and closed-mindedness. Just fuck them.
Because this is all the satisfaction and affirmation of the rightness of your work that you will ever need.