How NOT to be a mother in a doomed story (Oc story)

The champion and the Ludex -2

"...." : Speech

[.....] : Thoughts

ºº

As far as Sandrone was aware, Fontaine had always been fond of their constructs.

Inventing them, building them, pushing model after model of creatures of steel and circuit instead of blood and flesh into more aspects of the nation until each and every facet of life that one could ever think of held one.

For life.

For law and order.

For construction.

And even death....

So many shapes, so many tasks...yet it took one just a mere glance to know why such a decision had been taken in the first place.

They were cold

Practical

Orderly

Methodical

And with all the commitment of an individual to a task, yet lacking the very flaws that the flesh brought with it.

..

..

She too was like that....

In fact, as the seventh of the Fatui Harbingers she was the one that seemed to represent such aspect to its finest point. In her eyes her "coworkers" were ridden with weakness, with unnecessary notions of honor and chivalry like the Captain or Pride like the Eight.

Even with all their powers, all their bluster...they all were still lesser than her.

Weak

Ignorant

Willfully pathetic..

After all, if they were so easily swayed by such radical and nonsensical notions and sentimentalism, how could they hope to become what they pretended to be as Harbingers of the world to come..?

It was a particular detail that Sandrone had taken pleasure and pride from for a long, long time...

Few were capable of understanding the song coming from chiming gears and clockwork running within the cold, smooth metal frames of said inventions like she did.

So, it was not a wonder that the Institute of Fontaine, the birthmark of its scientific progress was by far one of her most "chosen" places to visit in the Nation if not the entirety of Tevat.

It was perfect

Perfect

To its smallest, minute detail

Until that woman sullied it with her presence...

A shadow crept over Sandrone's doll like appearance as that particular memory started to overlap over her previous thoughts, making the already thin line that was her lips grow crooked and twisted.

Ugly..

Distasteful..

Filthy commoner blood...

That woman's mere existence disturbing the gentle chiming of gears and conduits with her annoyingly loud high heels echoing through the corridors.

Walking by with that sardonic, pretentious smile on her lips and those fake looks of surprise in her eyes at the sight of the buildings interior as if she ever had any interest about any of it in the first place.