[ open ] cat's in the cradle and the silver spoon

[extirpator]

Who: Brother Nier and you — open to 4th wallers as well!
When: May
Warnings: Blood, nonsexual nudity

Comments

[abandonware]

[She lacks the charisma to do most group tasks, has no desire to engage in the work of a "play." But she had read of this in the machine files — this form of human entertainment, and so found herself curious.

She has been moving some of the heavier pieces of the makeshift settings, and turns slightly to regard the man speaking to her. A beat, wherein she realizes she recognizes this man... he'd been one of the ones that greeted her when she arrived. The one that bore a strange resemblance to an android.

Slowly, she nods, Pod bobbing beside her.]

Yeah. [...] Go ahead.

[extirpator]

[ it isn't the face that strikes him (although it should, for a number of reasons — it's the hunk of metal floating beside her, hovering with some kind of purpose as he draws closer.

his features turn pensive when he stretches out the thread between his fingers, allowing it to thin out and elongate before it winds around her shoulders. ]

I remember you. From the meteor shower. [ he takes a step back, if only to gauge her build with more accuracy. but as he does, he finds his eyes narrowing, hands slowing as he notes the wear and tear of her skin. ]

Are you hurt? [ concern tinges his voice. ] I can help you.

[abandonware]

I remember you too.

[Saying "you look like an android," would likely be met with a blank stare, is her guess. Most people here either did not know what she was, or had never met an android as "advanced" as her. She leaves it alone.

His question throws her, however, and she affords it the barest shake of her head. ] It's old damage. Not really anything you can do about it. Is it going to keep you from doing your measurements, or what?

[extirpator]

Damage?

[ an...odd word to use, he thinks. she's met with a quirk of the brow and another pause of his hands, only for him to continue, tracing the outline of her shouldblade. ]

It doesn't. But it worries me to see. Are you in pain?

[abandonware]

[It's been so long since someone's been this close to her that the way she stiffens is reflexive, something she doesn't mean to do but can't help. She forces herself to relax, to let the tension wind its way out of her shoulders.

His question makes her think of something. Remember something — someone leaning over her, pale hair falling over their shoulders, the face serious and composed, eyes covered by a dark visor, her mouth set into a thin line as she'd concentrated. How she'd coolly rattled off numbers and percentages, scolded (0.2 percent decrease in your reaction time, you should have come in for maintenance earlier, inefficient...) but had said finally,

You shouldn't push yourself so much, Captain.

It was such a long time ago. A2 doesn't know why she remembers it now, though that was usually how her memories were: quick and debilitating, like a blow to the back of the knees.

She wills her shoulders to stay loose, and answers, after a delay.]

It's not anything I'm not used to. Don't worry about it.

[...]

But thanks.