- Oct 22, 2022
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There's a column of them, roughly his tail's span in length. Single-file, diligent in their six-legged determination, they had crawled toward him in a strange, perfect line. All at a matching speed, too. Right up to the moment he brought his muzzle in for a closer inspection, that is. Upon the ants seeing Smogmaw — a bedraggled beast, one hundred times their size — the column's composure dissolves for a beat. Ants stop, twirl, step sideways and over other ants. But then, they pass him by and pick back up the right way again, regaining their marching order despite the disruption his presence offered them.
Their enthusiasm for order and systematic structure makes a far greater impression upon Smogmaw than these ants could possibly know. In spite of the limited insectoid faculties and flea-sized brains, their devotion to a shared goal exceeds that of any clan's. Ants are not known for infighting, nor are they prone to whining and/or griping. Their cohesion is effortless, perfectly orchestrated by genetic instincts working in synch. Smogmaw's pupils contract as he gazes upon the streamline progression, thinking back to the imperfections and frailties he's so familiar with.
The deputy is but a rabbit's-leap from camp's mouth, a toe over the line between outside and inside. He's hunched on his haunches, a fern shielding him from the dappling afternoon sun. There is ample time to be wasted upon this observation and yet not enough to stop his mind from drifting. Unblinking, he lifts an enormous paw and plants it atop the column. The bugs scramble and waddle like mad, abandoning their purpose once again. And yet anew, they swiftly recoup what they've lost within mere seconds and trudge on, unaffected by the two comrades they'd lost to Smogmaw's clutches.
"So uncompromising," he mumbles aloud, almost at a level only the ant's antennae could hear. Admirable in their efficiency, Smogmaw cannot deny the envious twinge accompanying his fascination.
Their enthusiasm for order and systematic structure makes a far greater impression upon Smogmaw than these ants could possibly know. In spite of the limited insectoid faculties and flea-sized brains, their devotion to a shared goal exceeds that of any clan's. Ants are not known for infighting, nor are they prone to whining and/or griping. Their cohesion is effortless, perfectly orchestrated by genetic instincts working in synch. Smogmaw's pupils contract as he gazes upon the streamline progression, thinking back to the imperfections and frailties he's so familiar with.
The deputy is but a rabbit's-leap from camp's mouth, a toe over the line between outside and inside. He's hunched on his haunches, a fern shielding him from the dappling afternoon sun. There is ample time to be wasted upon this observation and yet not enough to stop his mind from drifting. Unblinking, he lifts an enormous paw and plants it atop the column. The bugs scramble and waddle like mad, abandoning their purpose once again. And yet anew, they swiftly recoup what they've lost within mere seconds and trudge on, unaffected by the two comrades they'd lost to Smogmaw's clutches.
"So uncompromising," he mumbles aloud, almost at a level only the ant's antennae could hear. Admirable in their efficiency, Smogmaw cannot deny the envious twinge accompanying his fascination.