Appetence

Archive Log: 62

There was something unnerving about being witness to the interaction of the brothers. Minerva leaned her elbows against her knees and watched them. There seemed to be mild intrigue on David's behalf, whereas Walter was a bit more hesitant. He listened to the instructions which were given, even relinquishing his hold on the flute to let David cover the holes. But there was something, like an abyss between the both of them, maybe all three of them. They would better understand each other, more than what anyone else ever would. But yet, there was still a tension in the air, a wedge which wasn't being removed and if anything made the atmosphere worse.

The tune in which Walter was managing to get out with David's help was nothing spectacular, doing scales wasn't exactly the most brilliant thing to listen to. But, Minerva guessed, it was the point behind it. David was all about proving points, he was annoyingly determined like that. He always had to be right, and perish the thought of ever saying otherwise. Minerva got it, because he could, David guessed his brother could too. There was the look of slow growing hopefulness in David's eyes. Minerva saw it, even in the low lighting of the room. Her stomach twisted uncomfortably, mainly because she had never recalled seeing such a look before.

Was she jealous of Walter? Perhaps a little. She hadn't done anything, that she could recall of, that ever had David looking at her like he was with Walter right now. Even the elation he gave Walter for doing a scale was more praise than she had ever heard from him. Minerva's eyes drifted down to the ground, staring flatly and sadly at the simple tanned brickwork. She felt like an outsider looking in again. David hadn't appeared to her to be too interested in his brother. Clearly he was faking that and was more interested than he let on, or at least to her.

Hearing the tune suddenly fasten up, turn slightly more upbeat than scales, Minerva glanced at the two. So alike, yet so different. She sighed, maybe she should just go? Leave them to whatever this was. She had promised, or at least said to that woman that she'd check her injuries. No one else seemed to be helping her. Minerva hadn't helped someone in a long time, it was a novelty.

"You aren't surprised to see me." Walter's voice was low, curious sounding but also questioning as he held the flute in his hands, his eyes still staring across at the synthetic in front of him.

David's eyebrows rose as he shook his head slightly. "Every mission needs a good synthetic." Why would he be surprised to see one amongst the humans? Walter looked slowly over to Minerva, and then back at David. She smiled sadly at him, and in response Walter looked almost sympathising. "Ah, Minerva there may be the slight exception. She was just along for the ride." David's voice cut into their little stare off, sounding quite bitter yet triumphant when Walter looked questionably at him with a frown, and Minerva's shoulders further slumped. "Now then, apply gentle pressure on the holes. Like the weight of a cigarette paper." David didn't dwell on the previous subject for much longer, taking to directing it back to Walter and his impromptu music lesson. David just looked on, rather pleased and proud that Walter managed to copy the tune he had earlier played for him. "That's it." David smiled, Walter's expression was blank other than the small frown and confused eyes. "I was with our illustrious creator, Mr Weyland, when he died."

Walter's fingers ceased moving, he just sat motionless staring. "What was he like?" He hadn't had the chance to meet anyone like that. The people who bought him online did so, then didn't really stay around too long. Yes, he was somewhat nurtured into this life, but none of the people were Peter Weyland.

David sighed almost inaudibly, he even glanced at Minerva as she looked distantly up at the pair. He smiled, shrugged, and looked back to Walter. "He was human." The response had Minerva looking saddened again, which David saw from the corner of his eyes. Yet Walter looked blank still, his answer didn't mean much to him. "He was entirely unworthy of his creation."