Useless. No longer in my Vocabulary.

[Urias]

---

It was late night yet again. Alone with his thoughts, in that workshop of his. It's walls had been buckled.
In the late hours of the night, the wind whispered to him again. 

Useless.

The clock ticked in its eternal Apathy. It would not stop. 

It was right though, wasn't it?
Useless. An apt description. 
His own family, being injured? He could only watch.
His Home, destroyed and torn apart by a Tyrant? The observer was his lot.

The wind howled in through the broken roof. A testament to his failure. Up there. Out of reach.

Stuck. Failing.

On his right, a propped up cork wall. Full with Blueprints. 

Failures, gazing venomously at him. 
Ideas to never be realized. 
He could never. 
He would never.

Relentless. Like tidal waves, the poisoned words wormed their way into his mind.
They crashed into him, again and again. Surrounded. On all sides. 
The Board of Blueprints was trying to drown him.

Useless.

He would never.

Stuck.

Useless.
 He would never.

Time continued it's relentless march. Without him. 
The waves came in
Again
And again. 
They would drown him.
They would drown him.

They would-

SHUT UP!

The Fortune-teller in Gold pushed back his chair in a rage.
The Son of the Angel of Artificing crashed his first through the whispering Blueprints.

Time will catch me. But I will not find me wanting.

The Hayme grabbed himself a ladder. 
Seven Rungs.
He would climb ten.
Twenty.
He would climb enough rungs to pluck then rainy clouds from the sky.
Catch the howling wind.
And he would ask them.
Ask them if he was still Useless.