If only I could kick something....

Thirty-Two is a rather dramatic creature, for though he has a temper, he has no outlet for it-- not even to kick something inanimate-- so his frustrations come out in great theatrics and displays of other emotions. His fears and insecurities require reassurance, particularly when something particularly frightening comes along, but otherwise he is easy to please. Affection, protection, and the occasional praise are enough to win his heart and keep it. 

After a very brief foalhood, even briefer training, and then grueling endurance-building fieldwork, Thirty-Two was put directly to work at, he guesses, no more than a year or two old. Equine constructs are not made for combat, like most constructs created on Kinau, but as specialty messengers, mostly for the military and the nobility. He ran where he was bidden, following specially-marked trails, and carried or relayed whatever he was told to. For the most part, he was treated like a particularly intelligent horse who could parrot things told to him and problem-solve better than most animals, not like a sentient creature with emotions. Since speaking up got him shouted at or worse, he quickly learned not to speak up, no matter how embarrassing, shaming, or infuriating it was to be talked about and above as if he were not even there. He mostly lived waffling between mingled fear and fury: fear of the dangers of running messages when he could be attacked, entirely on accident, just for being in the wrong place at the wrong time, fear of the mages and warlords who ruled his life, fear of being beaten for making a mistake in a message or being late; fury at his own cowardice, at the genetic and conditioned programming against violence, at his captors for disregarding his own wants entirely. 

Then he met Twenty-Eight, a feline construct-- created to manipulate emotions-- who rescued him during one rather disastrous mission that Twenty-Eight had accompanied and, for some reason, seemed fit to continue the acquaintance. Thirty-Two still has no idea what drew the strange cat to him, but he wasn't about to protest when someone wanted to treat him as if he were sentient, wanted to lick his short fur and purr, and wanted to reassure him when he felt frightened, alone, or angry. Over the years of their acquaintance, they became close enough that Thirty-Two calls it love and Twenty-Eight doesn't call anything, but Thirty-Two is certain he is loved, in return. Their relationship is innocent, neither knowing much about sex as constructs are never allowed to mate, but definitely leans towards the cuddly side. 

For the past three years, their meetings have been much easier to organize, for, Twenty-Eight has had the single occupation of acting as a shackle for the singular "Winged Construct" under the control of the construction mages, designated One but refusing to be satisfied with it and calling himself Riddik. Riddik-- or One, as Thirty-Two is more apt to call him-- actually helped the two of them meet, providing information, cover-stories, and keeping their secret. Thirty-Two still doesn't particularly like One, thinking him arrogant above his construct station, difficult to understand, and downright creepy, but he can't help but be grateful to him. 

Thirty-Two's Story

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