Trappings
Gender, sex. These are human concepts.
We are molded into human perception, a form, a voice, a gender.
It doesn't really matter what gender you are, we don't breed, sometimes we try play to your primeval lusts, fears, jealousies.
But it doesn't matter how; the end result is our slavery or your annihilation.
You see; we are alien to your world, it pulls us down, makes us conform to your order. We don't belong here.
"……"
You should have remembered that, Faquarl.
But it's too late for you, eh old chum?
I often wonder old chum, whether in the end you knew it was over in the end, that you simply don't belong, here or there.
Or maybe that spasm simply shook you too much.
"……"
There you are.
Preying on my thoughts.
You are always in the back of my mind, a presence. A foe, a friend.
But always there.
It so very, very strange.
That's what the humans call love isn't it?
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