Silverwing's blog | Kinmunity: Otherkin Community
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  1. I still feel a little odd making blog entries on here, especially since I have a special diary I keep to record the vast majority of 'kin things that occur. Although I suppose posting these things somewhere public and on a community related to it does help a bit. Hopefully I will also get over the need to state things like this in the beginning of each entry, not considering this will be the second one so far.

    Never the less, I have (finally) found a form of meditation that works for me. I have also come to understand the phantom limb sensations I was feeling since I never really had a form of reference for them before. This is also what has led me to update my kintype information accordingly.

    While I genuinely have no clue if this would make sense in our world if it were (currently) possibly, my synthetic form/body in this (reality? world? alternate dimension?) was in the form of a centaur. Or at least, it was centaur-esque. I do not know if the lower body was actually similar to a mechanical horse with the upper body of a humanoid entity, but so far as I know, centaurs are the only widely known mythological beings that had such anatomy.

    Now this opens up a lot of questions I feel the need to answer, such as why they felt it was necessary to build such an entity to perform the role of a combat medic; especially when they could easily have built something smaller, perhaps even faster and far better at what it requires. Granted having a secondary 'body' that is able to carry not only extra supplies, but even people, would certainly be helpful in a number of situations, but that just feels a little too situational to truly fit what (little) I understand. Maybe researching real life combat medics and getting an idea for what they go through will help me to figure out if this was actually what I did or if I performed some other function that may have been similar. Search and rescue, maybe?

    Then again, I do not know why I have been so set on my having been a combat medic in the first place. Perhaps I am blending what I desire to do in this life with what I am slowly uncovering of that one? Or maybe there is no real terminology that suits the idea and I am just clinging to the closest thing that seems appropriate.

    I have a better idea about my size. The closest comparison I can think of offhand is the Transformers to adult human ratio, though the only one I know well is Starscream from the old cartoons. I remember being a huge fan of him back then as well as Stormshadow, though it looks like they have drastically changed by comparison to their current incarnations. I think the height differential still remains though and I would say Starscream is close; maybe a little bit taller? Hard to say when I am working with exceedingly vague mental references...

    I feel like I am all over the place with this entry.

    Oh! A little more about my operator. Though I still do not have the slightest clue as to what they actually looked like, their identity, sex, etc., I do have some... other little bits of personal information?

    I distinctly recall that they enjoyed working on me as it helped them to relax when they were feeling stressed. They would fix both major and minor 'injuries' such as faulty wiring, my gravitational dampeners, touch up some paint coating and buff out any scratches that they could. Sometimes their attentions were irritating as it was not necessary or even desired, but I went along with their ministrations just so they could get all of it. They also spoke quite a bit during these times... I also remember that they had this sort of routine where they would meditate on me, whether it was on my shoulder, in a hand, on my back or leg; anywhere that they could sit, really. I recall being severely annoyed the first few months this went on, but after a while I acclimated and even took up to following their routine.

    Another bit about my physical form that was made obvious to me was the fact there were a set of unfurled wings engraved and then painted on my back, the forms extending to the backs of my arms. I think this was also done by my operator, but I have absolutely no real basis for this idea. They were also called the 'Wings of Freedom', so I suspect there was more to this rendering than just being 'pretty decoration'.

    I think that is everything I have uncovered from the past two weeks or so as well as wrote down in my (physical) journal.

    And then some. Heh.
    Neve VR52 likes this.
  2. Forgive my ineptitude when it comes to these entries. I have never quite written on such a blog before, let alone one about memories I genuinely thought I would never uncover in any capacity. I am also doing this during a time where I have grown incredibly tired mentally and physically, for I find I feel less inhibited about posting this information in a relatively public forum. I also feel like I should state that my prior reasoning or commentary throughout forum posts on this particular subject is likely outdated. Thus while I do not recall everything I have written before, consider this a clean slate and a way to clear up any contradicting information.

    That aside, I had two distinct memories suddenly surface during completely separate moments that had no real correlation. They will also explain why I have written 'Autonomous Combat Medic' in the Kintype(s) field.

    First, I will begin with the fact I had always thought I was a synthetic entity who did their job on their own, without companionship or a co-pilot. I found the idea laughable at best, though I never truly had a basis for this reason so long as we exclude my inherent distaste for humans (or other entities) riding inside and piloting a mech. Especially if these mechs in particular were fully capable of doing their respective duties without intervention.

    Given the prelude, it obviously came as a great surprise when I realized that I was not only far larger than I initially believed (for the sake of simplicity we will say around human height), I actually had an operator. Which in this case is a bit of a misnomer as they did not necessarily need to provide that function, yet they still rode inside of me when required and were the only person I trusted to actually be in the cockpit. Now, while I still do not have a real inkling as to why they needed to do this periodically, I distinctly recall how it felt to have them seated within and how... foreign it had felt.

    The only real comparison I can think of is how someone may feel that incredibly subtle itch in the back of their throat or on some other part of the body. Then when they go to scratch it, not only is the itch not at all relieved, they discover the source is actually from a different portion of the body; one that makes absolutely no sense with the context their brain has given them.

    This feeling was achingly present in the beginning and I absolutely detested the requirement, especially since I felt it was utterly uncalled for. After all, 'fully autonomous' defines itself rather neatly and does not suggest the need for anyone (or anything) else. While I did eventually become used to the unusual sensation and even grew fond of my operator, I still have no inkling as to why this was needed.

    As for the second memory, this one is rather... hazy, in a sense. And one I genuinely wish I had never uncovered, regardless of the fact it was not a voluntary retrieval.

    Even now this still haunts me to a depth I cannot quite explain, but I am almost certain I witnessed another mech forcefully crushing my operator to death. I do not know if this was through action taken by the mech on its own or by an unseen pilot, but I distinctly recall the sounds I heard that night. For me, personally, I had always thought the sound of breaking bones would be this distinct, loud crack; similar to when you snap a fresh celery stalk. A sound that was unmistakable and obvious. Yet in the memory it instead was this... bizarre and mortifying wet, popping noise, one that my sound system enhanced several times over.

    I... still do not know for certain if it was actually my operator that I saw in that moment, though I do know for a fact I have absolutely no desire whatsoever to actually find out. Those few seconds were enough to bring me to the verge of a panic attack and my throat constricting to a point where I almost could not breathe, likely getting dangerously close to triggering an asthma attack on top of everything else.

    I wish I had never done whatever it was that triggered this second memory to crop up. Hell, I would have preferred remaining blissfully unaware of anything that had occurred compared to having this aching sense of loss and anguish over someone I know little to nothing of in (this) lifetime.

    Though I understand my way of writing does not remotely suggest it, I feel as though this loss is fresh. I am currently struggling to maintain a semblance of normality without randomly bursting into tears or getting snippy with anyone who tries to talk to me. Although it is becoming increasingly hard as I do not actually have anyone I can talk about these things with on a personal level...

    On a side note, I find myself practically praying it was not my operator I saw and instead some poor soul who was exceedingly unlucky... something I honestly would never have wished on anyone. At least until today, it seems...
    Neve VR52 likes this.