[[ Hey guys, I’m settling back into this blog again and while i’m not sure if im ready to throw out starters, give this a like if you’d be interested in interacting once I am!
Not easy to hurt, that’s an interesting way to put that. It’s thought over while she tidies the last few scraps left over from her earlier ‘training’ - the words ring so clearly not necessarily because they’re odd, but because it’s very much how she would choose to describe herself if asked,
“Because of your training or because of your magic?”
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“Let’s say both” he decides, “I won’t be using any kind of offensive magic however, so don’t mind it.” he watches her carefully, how she holds her weapon and how she moves. Treat her like she knows nothing? To square one then. He straightens himself up and tucks his dagger at his hip to approach her.
She tenses, again, as the other approaches but just as quickly relaxes. It's difficult to not jitter a little bit with the way her processes are prodding one another, but overall it’s a minor annoyance, the directions help them stop snipping at her brain, shifts the energy towards something.
It's very refreshing - Two is stubborn but realistic, having someone around with real experience is grounding. The critique of her stance is met with a nod and a gentle shifting as she tries to loosen up her posture - it's harder than expected, the effort is there but lacks the results. Drop her shoulders like this? Are they 'relaxed' when held here or here? Trying to pinpoint that sweet spot is aggravating, in the end she feels more locked up than before. A note is made to work on this aspect if it's going to prove to be an important one.
"Easier said than done"
It's not bitter, just matter-of-fact - so she's going to need to actually learn to relax.
Not surprising.
Stance is much easier - She can read Kuebiko's movements well enough through his coat and is quick to follow suite. It feels almost natural, some small part of her code clicking into place after a time of being neglected - Model 2, built with joints to emphasize maneuverability and strength, tuned for future use in ground combat. The way her weight shift just feels correct.
There's that hum again, a buzz where a heartbeat should be. Something has switched on inside of her - Body language, Kuebiko's form relaxes like 2's cannot and the grip on her weapon tightens in anticipation of a queue. Her expression hasn't changed but there's no denying the focus in her eyes, station lights catching and reflecting back out to flick deepened red pupils to white when they lock on him.
Her opponent is not prey by any standard, but the feeling is undeniably predatory.
Fight.
'All right. Come at me.'
Don't kill. Just fight.
The direction is followed like the others - no sooner do they leave the other's mouth does the android lunge, the movement is distinctly inhuman just in the way she dips into the charge - fluid precision, sword aimed for Kuebiko's chest.
It's simple - Two is alert, she doesn't expect to land a hit here - instead, she's ready to duck in either direction to keep herself out of her opponent's range, just see what he does in response.
Inexperienced maybe, but not at all without it.
[[ OOO WOW ACTUALLY NO HOLD UP
HEY, GUYS! 2 IS PROBABLY NOT GONNA WANNA FUCK YOU, EVER, SORRY, SHE DOESN'T LIKE PEOPLE IT’S IN ALMOST ALL OF HER DESCRIPTIONS I’M BEGGING YOU TO READ THE ABOUT
HI TO THE OTHERS, THO!
[[ I HAVE,,,, GAINED FOLLOWERS BY REMAINING TOTALLY INACTIVE, HI! I WONT BE RETURNING TO ACTIVITY FOR AT LEAST ANOTHER WEEK, LIKELY CLOSER TO TWO, IM MOVING ACROSS COUNTRY RN ITS WACKY.
COOL TO SEE YOU, THO!
She doesn’t say anything more about the sounds for now, he’s already been warned that the server isn’t stable, there’s no desire to go into anymore details about the nature of it unless it proves necessary later. It is in part motivated by a lingering bitterness, there are much better things to be focusing on - the skeletons in her closet are not one of those things.
All she can really hope for is that he doesn’t ask any direct questions.
“I was designed with the intention to be a combat model, so… yeah.”, her feigned eloquence slips a bit, inevitable. The farther this strayed from prattling off status reports the harder things were going to get.
A sparring partner, that would be…
Nice
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With the intention of a combat model? He wonders what exactly she means by that. Is she one? He should probably be careful sparring with her, though he doubts she’ll hurt him given her reaction to learning he was human. He would hate for there to be an accident and for her to feel poorly.
“I’d like to, it helps keep me sharp.” he used to train with the other Phantom Thieves but…
Not easy to hurt, that's an interesting way to put that. It's thought over while she tidies the last few scraps left over from her earlier 'training' - the words ring so clearly not necessarily because they're odd, but because it's very much how she would choose to describe herself if asked,
"Because of your training or because of your magic?"
It's a simple question in her eyes, magic had plenty of abnormal properties that complicated fights against it - Tore through defenses, couldn't be blocked traditionally, so on - why not utilize it as a defense? Either way, it was good to know before going into a scuffle, even if it was agreed upon.
Retrieving her weapon is as simple as pulling up a memory, the feeling of the sword resting in her hands had become almost second nature to being aware at all. She doesn't even need to focus on it like she used to, shifting processes to skim through her data until she found it - she wants it and it's there, static fizzling off of it's edges as it finishes becoming reality. Were she distracted it might've proven more difficult, but for now the only real distraction around was Kuebiko.
Who is, granted, very distracting. It isn't his looks that have No.2 fixated, but the way he moves, there's a skill there that can only be called impressive - no, intimidating
Nerves start to build, having someone to spar with after all this time would be wonderful, but it had still been all this time. When was the last time she fought with someone else, when was the last time she did so without full intention to kill? It isn't until she looks at him, weapon drawn and standing across from her, that she realizes her processes are thrumming, chest tight like it's trying to contain a racing heart that's not there.
"I have some basic training." she swallows, trying to think of how to articulate the rest of it, "And some active experience, but it isn't much. Most of it took place almost a decade ago."
It doesn't quite cover everything, but it gets what needs to be said across, simply that it has been a very long time.
A deep breath is taken, inhale, but the quiet exhale does not come, it's held there, tense behind her teeth. Nothing hangs on this battle other than the chance to learn, it can't even be called a battle, hell it hadn't even started, and yet...
She exhales, slowly. "It would probably be best for you to treat me like I haven't had any."
🙃- For a lighter, slightly embarrassing secret Despite how she is around others, Two is idly a kind of noisy-bordering-on-musical person. She emotes a lot on he own, which means when left by herself any task she’s doing tends to be accompanied by a lot of grumbling, muttered notes, sarcastic narration, and occasionally humming.
His little revelation does nothing to phase No.2, while that information could be minor leverage in situations like this it was only a matter of time before it came to light. She’d have to clarify it at some point in the conversation no matter what. She was focused on the other things he chattered about - disciples, intoners - it didn’t make any sense. A note is made to sift through archives later, see if maybe there’s something in her memory logs that’s just being overlooked, but not right now.
It takes physical restraint to not agree with him on the headache comment.
I really wish you weren’t ‘bones and shit’.
How to approach this…
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Well if she isn’t one of Zero’s sisters, he doesn’t have much reason to go out of his way to be violent, much as part of him wants to. She looks just enough like Zero that part of him wants to pick her apart, tenderly, to lovingly mutilate that pretty thing. Shockingly perhaps, he keeps those thoughts to himself, mostly because in his own way, they would make him seem way too touchy feely.
"Do I need to repeat myself? I'm data, an archive." she huffs, it's quiet, really barely there, "I was at one point, not anymore."
One would think it would hurt more, or at all, to be called not-real. It's the opposite for her, actually one of the only positive things about this interaction so far, no song and dance surrounding her own 'humanity', no arguments about being that she has to shrug away - this kid is a bastard but he gets it, and she finds herself grateful for it.
'Hanging around', however, is a problem. There isn't much to show off or do in the archives unless you were a big fan of space, and this new visitor didn't seem like a big fan of anything other than being a thorn in her side. Kind of uncanny.
Her eyes narrow a bit while he continues to speak, slits of red ice following his movements. They flick over to the door of the medical bay, lingering there while the other continues to talk about what she can only assume to be teammates. She feels bad for them for having to put up with this, then worse at the fact that he's right to wonder - nothing here is real outside of the simulation, it wouldn't be able to enter a physical space.
"Everything here is just information. If you're lucky I might have data that could help you, but it's unlikely."
She remembers what that other human had said, another universe.
"I don't think we're from the same world."
Obviously, humans are dead in this one and that 'intoner' business strikes her as another foreign aspect. A creeping sense of uselessness seeps into the edges of her thoughts, it's frustrating to have nothing to offer even if it's to someone who she arguably owes nothing to.
She turns her attention back to him when asked for a name, vaguely considers withholding just to see what he's managed to cook up in such a short timeframe, but if he isn't going to be leaving anytime soon No.2 supposes that she might get to hear a few whether she gives him the opportunity now or not.
"My designation is YoRHa Model 2", still oh-so toneless, but what can you expect, "Usually people just use 'Two'"
An eyebrow is cocked before continuing, one of the few expressions she'll actively indulge in without pressure.
"And I'm overjoyed, Dito. It's a pleasure to meet a human like you."
She isn’t sure what she expected.
There was a tiny thought in the back of her head, just a little spark of a warning when she saw how tall he was, saw the sword, saw the way his eyes lit up like stars even under the cold, clinical, space station lights. It had tried to give her a leg up, to prepare her, and she had ignored that little voice, told herself it was a stupid and baseless thought.
This is a bastard.
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Oh he is indeed Bastard.
Her reaction leaves him grinning like a cheshire cat.
“You’re not my intoner, like hell I’m gonna listen to some random bitch just because she thinks it’s cute to throw orders around.” he laughs, it’s actually genuinely amused, he kinda digs this chick, or at least how it seems she won’t be easily cowed by his threats.
“Why wouldn’t I answer you? That’d be boring, like I said, I’m here because the shithead back at my campsite won’t shut up, if I didn’t want to talk, I’d just leave.” he laughs again, it’s far too light and warm for his words. Now he’s just having fun, or as close as he can have to it anyway.
His little revelation does nothing to phase No.2, while that information could be minor leverage in situations like this it was only a matter of time before it came to light. She'd have to clarify it at some point in the conversation no matter what. She was focused on the other things he chattered about - disciples, intoners - it didn't make any sense. A note is made to sift through archives later, see if maybe there's something in her memory logs that's just being overlooked, but not right now.
It takes physical restraint to not agree with him on the headache comment.
I really wish you weren't 'bones and shit'.
How to approach this...
It's against her programming to remain hostile towards him now, between that and his talk of magic there are dozens of alarm bells going off in her head. Care is taken to not let her mind go running off too wildly, having her data go on the fritz now would be bad news and an over-stretched processor right now could make all the difference if things get
Get what, violent?
What would happen then? Would he be a threat to the archives if he didn't know what they were? He could do some surface damage maybe, but other than that the only thing at risk would be her personal data.
But how would the magic effect it?
‘Well, I should hope you would defend yourself
if you were threatened by a human.
We aren’t all Good.’
The words are tossed back and forth, I would not hesitate to defend this place , that had been her reply, she stands by it. If she had to, if she had to...
But No.2 does not want to, even with how this cackling little shithead is behaving, even with all the threats and insults, there is now a part of her that's just
Sworn to protect humanity.
Goddamn it.
"I don't know who 'Z' is and I don't have any sisters." she does her best to not let any irritation leak through, lets it instead creep into her movements, turning her sword over in her hand idly while she speaks "You were right" tragically, "Kind of. I'm just an AI now. You're standing in a simulation."
The sword is turned over once more before getting tossed aside listlessly, shattering into sparks of information before it his the wall. The wonderment that hit her the first time this happened is decidedly less so this time around, part of her wants to ask his if he's absolutely sure about the whole human. thing. Maybe the mass extinction hadn't been an entirely bad thing after all.
The thought stings. She sighs.
"So, since you're human I'm sworn to..." Protect? Listen? She crosses her arms, none of those things seem like something she really wants to say to this kid. ".. Tolerate you. Answer questions or whatever. You want to know where the exit is?"
She isn't sure how he got in, but she is more than happy to help him find his way out.
Some days were easier than others.
This was not one of the easy days, this wasn’t even close to cutting it as a normal day. She had ‘fallen asleep’, accidentally idled too long and allowed her data to flick into a dormant state to allow for things like defragmentation and system updates.
It couldn’t be pushed back indefinitely but she had gotten good enough at it that it was hard to tell the difference. When she had first started it could only be delayed for a couple of logs, and then a few more, and a few more until…
Well, this round she had simply stopped counting after a few months.
It had it’s drawbacks - reaction times would suffer, some memory leaks would get worse, but it only ever really ate at her active personal data - the majority of the memories left went unharmed by it, she had separated ‘herself’ from those very well. It was annoying, but far better than the other option, slipping into 'sleep’ put the archives in the hands of her background processes.
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The woman, girl really, who comes striding, armed, down the hall towards him throws him off for a moment. Her silver hair, the colour of her eyes. It tears him in two ways: Relax, or lash out? And the tearing only makes him pissier. As if anything in the world that reminds him of her but is not her is offensive just for existing.
Her weapon is raised, so he draws his own in return, it’s comforting in his hand, and he lets himself fall into the ease of a defensive sort of stance, ready to decide if he needs to retreat or if he can get away with tearing her to pieces should a fight break out.
She isn't sure what she expected.
There was a tiny thought in the back of her head, just a little spark of a warning when she saw how tall he was, saw the sword, saw the way his eyes lit up like stars even under the cold, clinical, space station lights. It had tried to give her a leg up, to prepare her, and she had ignored that little voice, told herself it was a stupid and baseless thought.
This is a bastard.
Next time she's just going with her gut on that.
Half the things he says don't make sense, and the half that does is unnecessary and annoying. The insults leave her jaw clenched, teeth gritting together not out of hurt but just to try and keep her mouth shut, to not let this encounter devolve into a shouting contest with a total stranger.
A scoff does escape her when his prattling turns violent, as nervy as she can be with strangers this just loops around somehow, makes her want to lash out just for the sake of proving him wrong - be it by kicking him around a bit, or by letting him follow through on those threats, let the little shit run her through and try to have his fun. As much as she'd bleed at first, her data would just fizzle out of being once enough damage had been done.
It's an empty defiance, she wouldn't let that happen, but it's satisfying to think about none the less.
Her arms drop to her sides, back straightening into a 'relaxed' posture - it's usual stiffness softened at the edges by how much she just does not want to be dealing with this today.
"Okay, first of all I'm going to need to you shut the fuck up." It's the same toneless drone that she keeps on default for the time being, but only through a grand amount of effort. She can't bring herself to continue being polite, but she can at least attempt to can the aggression a little bit.
"And don't try to pull any sarcastic bullshit where you don't answer me because of what I just said." she scrunches her eyebrows together for just a moment, waving her hand in a loose gesture before the expression is gone "A person in theory - an android, then? Clear that up."
It was a turn of phrase, this is just a weird little android.
Please just be a weird little android.
I'm begging your insufferable little ass.
"I'll tell you 'what the hell' I am after I understand what I'm dealing with here."
When they had first opened up, he’d insisted he wasn’t going into those goddamn holes.
But one thing had led to another, Octa had said something, and he had wordlessly risen from his place beside the campfire and left. Zero had looked at him as if begging him to save her, but there was nothing to be done, every Intoner and Disciple for themselves.
The woods are dark, but his eyesight is exceedingly sharp, and he isn’t quite human. Which isn’t to say he has any real form of night vision, but it does seem to give him somewhat of an edge. Otherwise he simply treads carefully, picking his way among the trees comfortably. If he were going to settle in any one place, the land of forests would be it. He likes the trees, he likes the abundance of food, he likes how cool it stays, instinctively, he likes it here.
There is a soft sound, between shattering glass and the chime of bells, and one of those odd gaps in reality falls into being somewhere ahead of him and to his left. The soft light it gives off draws him closer, it’s a very pale light, a gentle white. In a way it reminds him of his intoner. Her hair in his fingers.
Maybe that’s why he gives in to the urge to slip through it, he’s proven them safe before, so he has few qualms about it now.
The place in which he emerges is totally foreign to him, the walls are clean and white, there is a faint scent of electricity here, like the ozone just before a storm. For some reason, it disconcerts him slightly. Mostly because there’s nowhere he can see to duck behind if something threatening appears. And the close quarters in the hall mean his usual combat style will be difficult. Maybe he should go back?
There’s a muffled sound from the door next to him, and an intense heat. It makes him curse loudly, hands waving at the sudden plumes of smoke, he immediately goes skittering further down the hall, nose wrinkled, hacking at the scent, well, his portal home was back there so he supposes he’s just fucked for now, lovely.
“Fucking figures” his voice is an annoyed grumble more than anything as he turns once more to make his way hesitantly down the hall. What’s this? One of the doors opens, medical supplies? Maybe he’ll raid that, can never have enough of that. He’s just debating ransacking it when the distant sound of footfalls reaches him and he turns down the hall to face it, a hand resting warily upon the weapon at his hip, fingertips brushing very softly over the head of the stuffed animal hanging there. Reassuring.
Some days were easier than others.
This was not one of the easy days, this wasn't even close to cutting it as a normal day. She had 'fallen asleep', accidentally idled too long and allowed her data to flick into a dormant state to allow for things like defragmentation and system updates.
It couldn't be pushed back indefinitely but she had gotten good enough at it that it was hard to tell the difference. When she had first started it could only be delayed for a couple of logs, and then a few more, and a few more until...
Well, this round she had simply stopped counting after a few months.
It had it's drawbacks - reaction times would suffer, some memory leaks would get worse, but it only ever really ate at her active personal data - the majority of the memories left went unharmed by it, she had separated 'herself' from those very well. It was annoying, but far better than the other option, slipping into 'sleep' put the archives in the hands of her background processes.
Which meant that after the defragmentation process had allowed her to wake up, there had been fire everywhere. Fire, ash, blood - it had taken hours to get everything back under control, locking doors and sweeping data clean until the unstable parts of the archives had been beaten back to where they belonged, trapped at the end of the simulation, hidden behind everything that came before it.
Any semblance of feeling 'refreshed' by the defragment was thoroughly snuffed out by the new archive stability readings. Down to sixty-percent from sixty-five.
The jab of something new accessing her server almost goes ignored - fuck it - but after a moment No.2 gathers herself up from the floor, retrieving her sword from the door control panel that it had been driven into before striding down the hallway towards the disturbance.
Maybe it would be something that would put up a fight, some fancy little combat machine that had poked it's data into the wrong spot that she could just throw herself against, blow off a little steam. She can smell smoke up ahead and it just makes No.2 want to roll her eyes. She gets it, enough already.
Lets just take care of this machine and get back to sulking peacefully.
The sight that greets her down the hall is not a machine AI, she isn't even sure why she expects it to be one anymore, a note is made to rake through the security and access permissions after this to see what the hell is going on with it because this person up ahead is decidedly that - a person.
Human? Android? She isn't sure, but it's definitely not a machine. Her pace changes, slows a bit out of caution so she can get a better look before drawing too close. He's armed and that uniform, while not YoRHa, doesn't do anything to put her mind at ease.
Who bothers with that much ornamentation...?
The unfamiliarity has her sword raised, keeps her at a distance for now. No reason to get within range of whatever he has at his hip there.
"What do you want?" flat as usual, no energy to dress it up with any military formality today, "And what are you?"
White and gold and earth-soft brown, so much shorter than she is and yet carrying a weapon like that. As much as she had been wishing for a fight earlier, she isn't sure she wants it to be against whatever is going on there.
“If I was left with no other option I would not hesitate to defend this place.”
The answer comes quicker than expected, quick enough to be uncomfortable again - too fast, too out of pace with how she had been speaking before.
If a human had threatened Her, attacked her as she is now, No.2 isn’t sure she could bring forth the will to turn on them. She is just as she always was and always had been, a precursor to something grander.
But this place? The archives themselves, her memories beyond the personal data, information on the project that created her, of those who supervised it, of the others.
So long as she could fight, they would not be erased.
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What was that sound.
The distant rumble, it instantly unnerves him, and he finds himself wanting to stand between her and it, out of some deep seated instinct, he simply wants to protect everyone. An impossible task.
But has he not done it once before, and proven himself so capable?
She doesn't say anything more about the sounds for now, he's already been warned that the server isn't stable, there's no desire to go into anymore details about the nature of it unless it proves necessary later. It is in part motivated by a lingering bitterness, there are much better things to be focusing on - the skeletons in her closet are not one of those things.
All she can really hope for is that he doesn't ask any direct questions.
"I was designed with the intention to be a combat model, so... yeah.", her feigned eloquence slips a bit, inevitable. The farther this strayed from prattling off status reports the harder things were going to get.
A sparring partner, that would be...
Nice
Beneficial, there was no real way for her to actually learn anything on her own, something that only wore on her almost incessantly. It had been easy enough to defend herself thus far, but that was only really due to sheer luck, and it hadn't been perfect...
Between sixty-five and seventy percent. This was her trying her best, staying as vigilant as possible. Not all of the damage had been the result of things she could have fought off, but some of it had been, and that was enough to make his offer invaluable.
"If you're able to it'd help out. "
She cocks her head a bit, a quiet 'come with me', before heading out into the halls that comprised most of the simulated space station.
"It's nothing fancy" she explains as they walk, "But it's enough space to move around in. Not all..."
A loose gesture is made at the walls around them. The halls are narrow and cramped at times, enough for people to pass around one another comfortably but not exactly enough space for a clean fight.
The facility isn't far - the doors here are larger than the standard, two-paned double doors that slide open on approach much like the ones they used to leave the hangar. It is indeed much roomier than the rest of the building - when it had truly 'existed' it was easily one of the largest spaces available for use. Nothing grand - this was still meant to be as compact as possible, after all - but adequate, suited for use as a small gymnasium. The utilities themselves are sparse, the room basically empty save for...
Two's eyes immediately lock onto the pile of garbage she'd been picking through before this little interlude happened, dress folded neatly alongside it.
Fuck.
"Don't ask."
Hurriedly she gets to scooping the miscellaneous shit up - the dress is just kicked aside, it's whatever - arms loaded with several more mugs and a collection of manuals on general base safety procedures that did a good job skirting around what needs to be done in actual emergencies. 'Calmly report to your superior' indeed. It's unceremoniously dumped somewhere out of the way.
"Let me know if you need any kind of extra... equipment, or anything. You seem armed already, but..."
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