They’re made of meat!
I’m just a magical skeleton piloting my meat mech
It’s more like you’re a computer made of fat, piloting a bone mech powered by meat motors wearing a meat suit
How dare you attempt to make my magic bones mundane !!!
Our entire cultural infrastructure is there to deny we are meat and that we will rot but we are meat and we will rot and therein lies all of the unrest.
Just beat it.
From the moment I understood the weakness of my flesh, it disgusted me. I craved the strength and certainty of steel. I aspired to the purity of the Blessed Machine. Your kind cling to your flesh, as though it will not decay and fail you. One day the crude biomass you call a temple will wither, and you will beg my kind to save you. But I am already saved, for the Machine is immortal… Even in death I serve the Omnissiah.
Skeletons must be terrified of us, knowing there is another skeleton inside us… trapped, smothered, enslaved by the meat.
The skeleton is just a symbol of death.
It’s death people find scary… not anatomy
I think I have a parasitic relationship with my skeleton, like my meat and my bones really don’t like each other but they’ve agreed to a begrudging cooperation.
