Unnamed

His creator had whispered many things while he worked over this cold body. Carved form gems dug from deep within the earth and polished to the brightest shine possible, he was made. He was brought to life and paraded around, so his creator could boast of their power. At first it was fine, life was good, but one day it changed.

He had questions now. Thoughts. Wants. He had been given a soul. From where, He did not know. He grew tired of the parades, the prancing, his creator. And one night he turned on the creator with a horrible sound of roaring metal and clattering gems. He moved with polished ease, and a swiftness that Creator could not.

In the aftermath he was left standing with no purpose. No reason to continue. And he stood for a while, he knew not how long. Until he felt a pull and urge to move.

Where?
He did not know.
Why?
He did not know.
For what?
He did not know.

So he walked. He walked for what had to be an eternity. He saw life be born, he saw things built, he saw purpose. Yet he had found nothing for himself. He was no closer to understanding himself then he was when he started. He knew not what he searched for. He could not put into words what he was. He was lost still in his wandering.

One day he stopped wandering. Just stopped and stood on the top of a hill. He stared into the distance and saw the sun rise, and then it set. He watched until his vision was taken by vines that covered him, and in the darkness he felt a strange calm. He was like the earth to these vines, he was their home, and he stood for them.

Even more time passed and clans came and went around the strange formation of vines, never once questioning what lay beneath. He was at peace when the vines withered and the ground became soiled by disease and rot. He stood still wondering if the vines would come back. He was their home, but he soon felt the need to wander again. Vines forgotten, a new want in his heart. He wanted to find Home.