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Hehoo
It’s been a minute since I've been fully active here and decided to pop over to my favorite blog for a bit
Bought a new reference photo pack and saw one that felt appropriate, so have some SC Sun and Comet warm up sketching
(Hi @8um8le ;3)
Comet the anxious wet cat is my favorite gender 😂 drawing him next to Nova is absolutely wild stylistically but I think if they were to talk about the restaurant business Comet might open up a lil bit (or get his retail face activated)
“Love means being unafraid to not be your best at all times.”
Trying my hand at some more domestic scenes cuz I want to and to show the level of comfort the group has. A trope I’ve grown tired of is ‘perfect inhuman thing doesn’t mind gross human body quirks’ because it just makes me more aware of how organic bodies just are. They may be different from squishy flesh creatures, but even the incredible artistry of synthetics have their own version of quirks and issues not dissimilar to human ones. (Thematically there’s reason for this, ahah.) Everyone being comfortable enough to drop any pretense of perfection and flawlessness feels nice.
Especially when you know about their personal backgrounds.
Oh, and no, that long sink isn’t Jenn’s. The Guild supplies long and short stay accommodations for their members who are on long jobs, or as special member rates essentially, and some have the means to host large groups. Big long sink is one of those means.
Also I’m annoyed the pr0n bot got me so if you want to see the EchoxJenn pic you gotta go to my DeviantArt.
A small collection of art of Ty & Nova <3
Credits: chibis by Papyswaghet/clownpillz; portrait was a gift commission from @quilandscroll, drawn by NexuxCryptid
Credits: "What Event's Made Of" by @imagine-creative; follow up by me~
Credits: Jenn Squad (gift art) and Starfall (art fight) are both by DragonGirl685
New Chapter
“You were playing by the tower again weren't you?”
A steaming cup of kefin rested on the counter for a moment before being picked up and brought to the frowning mouth of Jenn, the vapor swaying as she blew on the surface before taking a wary sip. Her focus was riveted to the corner of the table which had been cleared of debris to allow the pair of twin computers to sit comfortably, their heads bowed with guilt at her accusation. From a distance, all of it was rather amusing to the observer seated at his spot at the other end of the kitchen, propped on one hand in an effort to ease and hide his still-aching head.
Moon had been caught unaware the moment Laa flew off without warning after he’d managed to restack the notes he’d knocked over when his hydrokinesis triggered–-everything was dry at least, leaving no trace of his episode. Little Twii was still charging, appearing asleep, so it felt odd her bonded pair would leave unprompted. It became clear when the dark blur returned shortly after, Jenn’s footsteps thudding in pursuit. Had it not been for his reflexes dragging him back from the doorway, they would have collided, and that was the last thing he wanted to deal with.
Now that Twii was charged enough to function, they were gathered in the kitchen, getting scolded for recklessness for something they clearly knew better about. Only Sun was absent for this ‘talk’, having been given a large bolt of material he wanted to take back to the exercise equipment for reasons Moon didn’t have the energy to fathom, leaving only himself to observe the goings-on of this bizarre family. The reassurance that nothing terrible was going to happen after seeing how she dealt with Rukbat’s disobedience was the only thing keeping him from trying to interfere in their favor.
Jenn took a deep, loud drink from her mug. “I’ve told you how many times now?” One of them squeaked, though which one wasn’t obvious to him. “Mm-hm. Every few months with you two, I have to remind you to stay away from the tower when it’s online. I know you know it drains power when you get too close to the generator, but clearly you don’t listen when I tell you. You’re lucky he was there to help.” Blue eyes flashed to him; the twins peered in his direction. “Did you say thank you?”
A chorus of cheeping followed her question.
He took this to be gratitude and nodded at them despite his head throbbing and a tickle running up his back. Reaching behind himself, Moon brushed his nape down to the spot between his shoulders, finding something stringy tucked into the hem of his shirt. Pinching it between his fingers and pulling, he wasn’t prepared for a long piece of grass to be the culprit. Must be from trimming, he figured, laying the wayward foliage on the table. Turning his focus back to the twins and their dressing down, he found them watching him curiously. “Yes?”
“You good?” Jenn asked, glancing at the grass on the table for a second.
“Just a tickle,” he assured, face tinting purple from embarrassment.
Switching back to the twins, Jenn took another long sip of kefin. “I don’t want to have to keep having this talk. That tower is held together by glue, wishes and spite. You two know the retainment field isn’t that great so it’ll draw power from anything near the turbine. You’re lucky you had enough charge to get away and that someone was around to help. Don’t do it again.”
At that, the pair floated off into the rafters, leaving Jenn to her cup of liquid caffeine and Moon to ignore the fact the tickle was persisting somewhere further down than his hemline.
“How many of those have you had?” he wondered, nodding toward the cup in her hands to distract himself from rummaging for more grass in his clothes.
“Like, today or…?”
His brow furrowed. “That’s not good for you, you know.”
“I didn’t say a number.”
“Which means you’ve had more than one.”
She sipped loudly, making defiant eye contact with him.
He grimaced a bit, the tickle distracting him from rebuttal by making his shoulder twitch.
Jenn noticed this, putting her cup down. “You sure you’re good?”
Another twitch he couldn’t hide cut him off before he could answer. “I…” Trying to shake loose whatever was touching him and failing, Moon grunted with defeat. “I guess not.” Giving up on subtlety, he reached under his shirt, running his fingers across his back–
–nothing.
“Sit still. Let me see.” Coming up behind the uncomfortable bot, Jenn placed a hand on his shoulder in an effort to assure him she wasn’t up to anything nefarious. Though he wanted to protest, Moon waited to see if she could find the little nuisance giving him grief in the hope of being done with it and able to move on to other things such as dinner plans. An idea had come to mind he wanted to ask about but deigned to wait his turn until Jenn, having excused herself from returning to her adult playground by way of being tired, finished chastising her tiny computer companions. Once again, the darker brother was appreciative of, yet surprised by, her method of discipline and willingness to permit deviation and mischief without seeking to correct it at the source.
A bit suddenly, Moon felt his shirt lift up, bunching at his shoulders and leaving his back exposed; soft fingers traced down the seams of his shell, eliciting what almost felt like a chill from his surface sensors. Scraping and picking at spots of dirt he’d expected–-despite their supposed value, the technicians brought it to clean and care for them weren’t exactly considerate of their comfort or tolerance for certain types of physical touch-–but this was… unexpectedly nice. The roughest sensation was the feeling of her nail sliding along his spinal seam, accompanied by a thoughtful hum before she moved away.
“Looks like you’ve got some grassy bits stuck where it shouldn’t be. Hang tight, I’ve got something for that.”
Ah. The rough part hadn’t happened yet.
Moon adjusted his seat silently, facing himself backwards with arms folded to cradle his head against the backrest; a very faint sigh left him as he resigned himself to his fate to eliminate the persistent tickle once and for all. Jenn disappeared and reappeared quickly, carrying a tote box the size of a bread loaf that she placed on the table, first pulling out a bristled hand brush followed by an instrument that resembled a hook-ended needle with a fat, wooden handle perfect for the palm to apply force with.
This gave him some concern. “What’re–”
Not giving him a chance to voice his worry, Jenn returned to his blindspot and placed her knee at the edge of his seat, accidentally brushing his tailbone which made him tense again. Misreading his reaction, Jenn’s hand returned to his back to reassure the twitchy bot he was safe, being mindful to be soft and careful. “I’m not going to hurt you,” she spoke in a soothing tone. “Just relax.”
Being told to do so didn’t make it any easier as he knew only to brace for discomfort when being cleaned. First came the brush’s bristles–Moon waited tensely for the scratching and prickling to agitate his sensors, but what came instead felt more like a gentle cloth rubbing back and forth between his shoulders, working its way down in long, steady strokes. Next, focused pressure in small areas–-the chair creaked as Jenn leaned into it a bit, tracing the edges of his panels with the soft pads of her fingertips. The tingle returned, running through his system like warm water easing away his tension and the throbbing of his head as he sat, still waiting for something to hurt or poke him.
Jenn was careful, though, even while distracted. From the outset the human thought both brothers were beautifully crafted and designed, but taking the time to really appreciate the detail work hadn’t occurred to her as repairs couldn’t afford to be compromised by distracted ogling. Now, though, she could really take in the finer details–-the laser etched trim and sanded embossing work that made some parts of them shimmer in the right lighting. Clearly they were a labor of love for whomever put the effort in, even though that didn’t really make sense given what she’d learned about them.
Either they were repurposed or their maker really wanted to push the Goldlite quality to be believable under intense scrutiny.
Jenn held her breath in fear of marring the intricate work just by breathing too hard on it, the fine textures shallow to the point of smooth when touched–though they were much sturdier than they should be, figuring out the upper limit of their alloy wasn’t on her list of things she wanted answers for. Nor was it a good excuse to be sloppy. It took a bit of her willpower to return to her task, glad Moon couldn’t see her face redden from embarrassment. ‘A sucker for a well-built robot,’ she’d been told more than once by others who’d caught on to her inclination for “studying and admiring” synthetics-–to the point of distraction at times. Although it happened on occasion with kitchenware and weaponry for the same reasons, it was only ever acknowledged when the subject of her attention happened to be capable of noticing and pointing it out.
I can’t help that I like to admire art, she insisted, though her own mental voice sounded more like she was chastising herself.
Slowly and with great care, the hook was drawn through the hairline seams of the Moondrop’s shell, removing bits of grass and dirt that had gotten stuck, either from trimming or when he fell into the shrubbery. I should probably check the other one later, she noted to herself, turning the hooked awl side to side carefully to dislodge the bits tucked where the lateral plates met, forming the spinal division line. Once in a while, he would twitch, either between brushings or when the awl was moved to a new area. “Am I hurting you?” she asked the first time only to be met with a distracted grunt. “Am I?”
“No, no, you’re fine,” Moon answered after another moment, seeming to be somewhere else mentally. Continuing the process, Jenn went on her way.
Yellow eyes boring a hole into the tabletop, Moon was grateful she couldn’t see his face change color as he came out of the fog he found himself in from the rhythmic, gentle touch of her hands at his back pushing him into a state of empty-headed relaxation. I completely spaced off, he begrudgingly admitted to himself, now acutely aware of where the awl’s hook was as it went about its merry way across his left side. At least the headache is gone. A faint chuckle kept him from drifting away again, the brush replacing the hook as Jenn dusted the debris off of him completely. “What?”
Hesitating a moment, she hadn’t realized she’d made a sound. “Just thinking.”
Moon did his best to fight the instinct to be suspicious of her dodgy answer. “You’re staring at my back with a tool in hand, I think I get to be curious what you’re thinking about when I can’t see you.”
A tired half-smile he couldn’t see twisted up one side of Jenn’s mouth, her head shaking slowly. “That’s exactly it. I’m just… amused, I guess? That you’re letting me work away at you literally behind your back and you’re not even giving me lip for it.”
Brow furrowed slightly, Moon turned his head just enough to catch her moving at the corner of his eye. “Should I be?”
A strange feeling settled somewhere between Jenn’s heart and her stomach, roiling and hard to ignore. Very gently, she tapped the tip of the hook against his shoulder so it made a metallic ting that got him to stiffen slightly. “Maybe you should be.” She removed the awl from his back, brushing it down with the bristled scrubber. “It would let me know you’re paying attention and not giving me free access to your blind spot.”
A new kind of tension squeezed the coils of Moon’s internal structure, raising caution at what she meant. He wouldn’t freely admit he wasn’t paying attention just a moment ago, but her tone held something that he couldn’t decipher as a warning, yet wasn’t quite a threat either. Not a normal one at least. Sitting up more while forming a response, something triggered the surface alert at his spine–a sensation of sharpness where his shoulders met made him freeze.
The hook’s tip pressed into the pressure point where Moon’s back plates met, the human holding herself carefully behind the instrument in such a way that she could shift forward and put her weight behind a jab that would crack between the seams and drive the awl into his wiring without much hassle. Any attempt to move would give her a chance to escape if he wasn’t quick enough, no amount of reach would grant a good angle to seize her–-he was trapped. Throwing himself back would only risk the awl piercing his shell regardless.
Be calm , he told himself, adamantly refusing to let panic overtake him. It took only a breath for that calmness to settle in, allowing his mind to formulate possible plans and rate their success in rapid succession.
“Take this as a bit of well-meaning advice,” Jenn spoke with an even tone, slowly easing back so the pressure of the hook lessened. “Don’t mistake hospitality for trustworthiness. Don’t drop your guard because someone offered you kindness. Never take words at face value.”
Voice hard, Moon couldn't help but comment, “I’m well aware of the last one.”
As suddenly as it started, the odd tension evaporated. Jenn fully relaxed away, the awl dropping from Moon’s shell entirely and taking the moment of bewildering strain with it. Water running, shuffling and curiosity prompted Moon to turn in his seat in an attempt to understand what just transpired between them but he only met Jenn’s displeased frown. Grabbing the back of his head, she turned him back manually, telling him to, “Sit still, I’m almost done,” as he protested.
A warm, wet rag ran the length of his back, confusing Moon further into vocalizing his thoughts. “What was all that?”
“Was what?”
The tone Jenn used told him she knew exactly what he meant. “The hook in my back. The warning. Or was it a threat?”
Jenn ‘hmph’ed while wiping him down meticulously. “I don’t give threats.”
“Then what was the point of that?” A slow, roiling anger was threatening to bubble up if he didn’t get a sufficient answer soon. Somehow, in some way, this human knew how to piss him off in ways he hadn’t thought of on his own.
Slowly, Jenn let out a breath to buy herself a moment to answer properly, her cleaning motions stopping briefly at Moon’s nape; a warm tingle crept across his shoulders that he fought off to keep his focus sharp. “Azil is many things, but ‘perfect’ is far from one of them.”
Head turning slightly again, Moon listened. The stroke of the rag started again and he hated how nice it felt.
“In a perfect world, people would be who they are at first glance, no mind games or meticulous lies padding out their actions to make you think they’re better than they are. You both have barely scratched the surface of what this world holds and your learning curve just got extremely sharp. Maybe I just don’t want you both making the same mistake I did.”
The cleaning finished but left Moon still confused, his anger evaporating as he rationalized her words. Just what did she mean by that? “I think in this case I didn’t have much choice. It’s not like I could have done it myself.”
“I’m sure your partner could.”
The phrasing bothered him. “Sun is my brother.”
“I know.” More shuffling as things were put away, Jenn briefly came into view on his left as she sealed the tote up and took it away. “He’s still a partner though. A companion. Unless you’re planning to go your separate ways–”
“No!” The word jumped out of him before Moon could help himself, earning a faint quirk of the human’s eyebrow. “I–we–”
Waving his fumble off with her hand, Jenn went on, “My point is, he’s the only one you should readily trust out there, and you,” she stepped toward Moon as he turned in his seat to face her, “need to make sure he’s not putting that trust so freely in others when you don’t even know their last name.”
The coiling feeling returned, harsher this time.
They didn’t know her last name.
Though he knew he could take her in a physical fight, Moon felt shamefully small as he was forced to tip his head up slightly to see the face of the human staring him down–if he didn’t know better he’d think her irises were glowing from how intensely she focused on him. Even with this, though, he couldn't detect a sense of hostility coming from her. Only a feeling that she needed him to understand something.
Something she wouldn’t say.
“Don’t let this world take advantage of your naivety, but don’t let it crush your kindness, either.”
Jenn turned away, shattering the moment just as Moon thought he was about to understand what she was saying between the lines. She moved to a cabinet across from him, reaching up to pull down a large bowl with her back to him, silent. Whatever it was that she’d been trying to say, it only made him annoyed–-the cryptic double-speak was bad enough from Vissara! Quickly and with as much silence as he could muster, Moon stood from his seat and took a step across the gap between them, extending his arm to drag her back and make her talk–-
“Think very carefully about what you’re about to do, Moondrop.”
Moon froze instantly, rerunning the last second to determine if he’d made noise or gave away his intentions by mistake-–he hadn’t even gotten close to her back! Adjusting his stance to be less aggressive, he said, “I’m not doing anything.”
Slowly, her head tilted to one side as if listening. “Sorry, then, for the assumption. I don’t like people moving around suddenly behind my back.”
How did she know? he wondered, squeezing his hand into a fist. I was perfectly silent. Was she actually anticipating me to grab her?
“What do you want for dinner?”
Moon’s thoughts ground to a halt. “What?”
Turning toward him, Jenn held up a bowl, seeming confused as if the last moments hadn’t just occurred and set him on edge. “Dinner? Third meal? You know–”
“I know what dinner is!” Snapping hadn’t been his intention, but being mocked while on the back foot from a bizarre conversation didn’t leave him feeling very pleasant. “I… wanted to ask you about that actually. That's why I sat down in the first place.” More and more he felt there was something wrong with this human that he couldn’t place. It was beginning to bother him on a level he didn’t have the energy to unpack.
“Well, that explains that I suppose. I was wondering why you were sitting there for so long. What did you have in mind?”
Whatever had passed between them had been buried already, gone before he could fully sort out the possible meanings of her actions, so Moon determined he’d need to look into it when he had time away from her intense gaze. For now, he focused on his original task: dinner plans. “What do you have for vegetables out here?”
“Depends what you want to make.”
With deliberate casualness, Moon flanked Jenn at the counter, his voice calm but they both had the other in sight as they sorted out what was available in the crowded kitchen, Moon refusing to be intimidated by the scrawny human and her cryptic statements. Even with his guard back up, he took the time to be mindful, making a comment whenever he stepped behind her or reached through her blind spot to find something. As they moved and maneuvered in the limited space, they settled their plans for dinner, Jenn putting a headphone in one ear at some point in their shuffling.
Maybe I over-thought it, the dark robot pondered, watching the human light her stove fire and begin chopping a round, leafy ball into wedges. Maybe she was just warning me about not standing at her back. It could be a reflex or something? He had his own share of innate reflexes after all–-proper falling, catching incoming projectiles such as balls or cups aimed at his head, things he didn’t think about before doing–-and living alone it would stand to reason she probably had one or two that could be just as unpredictable.
Then why not say it? the argumentative echo of his own voice insisted, trying to drag the persistent paranoia out of the corner he’d relegated it to.
Privacy was the first reason that he thought of, watching Jenn fill the bowl with shrubby bits that crunched under the blade of her kitchen knife. It’s not as if he were entitled to her entire life story, after all–-privacy made complete sense even. It was simply courtesy that she tried to warn him against triggering a possible stabbing reflex if he stood too close.
But that didn’t quite feel correct.
“Ahem.”
Blue eyes stared at him from the kitchen counter expectantly.
Distractedly, Moon responded, “Hm?? What??”
Jenn tipped her head, indicating the space next to her at the counter where a second bowl, full of roots this time, sat waiting to be peeled. “I’m not making this all by myself. You asked, you help.”
Quickly, he countered, “I don’t know how to cook,” but she was undeterred.
“Then get over here and learn. Better to start now than when you’re out in the wilds starving yourself.”
It was a good point but it didn’t stop his displeased groan.
~
Stretching from head to toe with a grunt, Sun paused at the top of the stairs, taking a moment to enjoy the feeling of accomplishment that washed over him. A large grin crossed his face and his rays fluttered–-he’d managed to set up his own rig all on his own! And only fall once! Giddiness danced in his circuits, making it hard to stay still for long, but as he tried to calm himself just enough to not slip on the steps, his attention was drawn up, up, up to the sky. Beyond the treetops of blue and green the aurora shimmered and shone, its yellow glow scattering through the clouds as it always did, bathing everything in light that Sun felt almost guilty for not appreciating more until now.
While it was always yellow and green, once in a while the bright lights would twist and dip, turning any color of the rainbow they wanted with little notice. In part due to the tall buildings, viewing the sky from the estate was tricky even under the best of circumstances, but the gnawing guilt in his mind reminded the golden robot that he hadn’t exactly gone out of his way to try in recent months. Partly due to the buildings… and partly due to being kept inside more and more as time went on.
But that wasn’t the case now.
If I wanted, I could stay out here all day and just watch the sky! The idea was amusing and tempting, but more so the thought of laying down and resting had won the bid for his attention. Between the sheer fright of Jenn’s gymnastics skills and his own tumble to the ground when the knot he first used gave out–which Moon was not going to find out about–there had been quite enough excitement for him for the day.
Though it begged the question, where was Jenn anyway? She’d claimed she was tired-–rightfully so after her little stunt!--but there had been a rather lacking amount of Moon in the area as well. Hopefully he was behaving.
Amongst the comfortable thoughts of accomplishment and sky viewing, Sun felt a weight, hidden below the surface like a fish lurking in a muddy pond. It tore his attention from the sky–-was that a flicker of orange? No. Was it? Shaking his head, Sun turned toward the patio, walking himself inside before he could get completely off track.
There had to be a way to make Moon calm down. Yes, that was it. Be it stress from the ordeal or Sun’s own mistakes, he was determined to make this… situation as easy on them as possible. It was his job now. His purpose. There was no more Vissara, no parties and schedules needing completion-–his only priority was Moon’s well-being.
Only Moon’s.
At the back of his mind was a whisper he couldn’t quite make out. The feeling evaded words, but protested whenever he affirmed his dedication to maintaining his brother’s mental health, as if trying to correct him. Why, though? It was simple.
They were leaving eventually. Moon would be his only concern. Jenn was being hospitable–
Would she be lonely when they left?
The clarity of the feeling as it finally revealed itself made Sun stop short in the hallway, stunned at his own thought process. Moon’s words and warnings about not getting attached still hummed somewhere at the fringes of his mind like a search tab left playing in the background, and no amount of thinking about a future far, far from the reach of E’rta city managed to bolster him against the worry that seeped in between the cracks. It’s what I’m made to do, the golden bot tried to tell himself even though he knew he shouldn't be trying to justify it any further. I’m made for humans. It’s… natural to become attached. Taking a deep breath, Sun pushed through the second half of that thought. So it will take more work not to do that. I only have to worry about Moon. I should only worry about Moon.
The clatter of dishware drew him from his affirmations and brought him back to the moment. Someone was in the kitchen! As he neared, he heard more noises–oddly familiar ones at that. Quiet but bouncing, melodic… singing? It was faint, as if done under one’s breath with no music, but it was definitely singing. Leaning behind the door frame, Sun tried to listen more closely between the clang and rattle of kitchen goings-on.
“Like this?” Moon’s voice.
Jenn’s next, the soft melody stopping. “Yep, just like that.”
“This stuff smells odd.”
“You mean delicious.”
Baffled, Sun continued to listen. Was Moon… cooking? Taking instructions? From Jenn?
“Oh, do you know this one?” Jenn again.
There was a pause, then Moon answered. “You listen to The Polifias?”
Jenn chuckled. “Wow, even by name. I’m impressed.”
“Orchestral techno has its moments. They happen to be most of them.”
“You can just say you like them.”
Instead of replying, Sun only heard the faint hum of Moon’s voice as he listened along to a silent song Sun faintly recognized.
They were getting along.
He couldn’t help the grin on his face, a feeling of warm relief filling his chest–-he had to actively dampen the glow that welled up in case it got their attention. Of course it would be music that makes Moon feel at ease!
Another sound of things moving and clanking, followed by Jenn sighing with accomplishment. “There, all done. We should go get him now, make sure he hasn’t hurt himself.”
Tensing a moment, Sun straightened and scrambled back from the entryway. Eavesdropping was bad!
“He’ll be fine, he’s more–” Moon rounded the gap and jumped–Sun jolted in kind, the pair staring at each other for a moment. “How long–” Shaking his head quickly, Moon composed himself. “When did you get in?”
Jenn poked her head around the corner as Sun gestured toward the door, trying to sound confused and natural. “Just now…? I heard talking and came to see what was happening.”
A friendly smile flashed across Jenn’s face, her hands busy wiping themselves on a kitchen rag. “Perfect timing, sunshine. Dinner is hot.”
“Dinner??”
So faint he’d almost missed it, Sun caught a glimpse of Moon seeming pleased with himself as he stepped to the side and gestured for his brother to come in. Sun did so, switching his olfactory sensors on–-the smell was intense and fragrant but incredible, catching him off guard and putting his Re_cycle system into overdrive. He was so used to having his sense of smell turned off by default–-everything in the estate was overwhelmingly perfumed for some reason he couldn’t understand-–that he’d completely missed the spicy, warm, peppery smell of something roasted over a fire. Yum!
Jenn seemed amused by his awestruck staring as she took her seat–still a pile of papers–and said, “It was all your brother’s idea.”
“It’s also my fault if it tastes bad,” Moon added on, trying to hide how sheepish he felt about his first attempt at cooking. That didn’t matter so much to Sun as he squeezed his brother in an elated hug, praising him for his efforts so enthusiastically, it made Jenn laugh quietly.
They’re good boys, she said to herself, watching Moon trying in vain to push his brother off of him but Sun’s longer reach made it impossible. I hope they stay that way.
After the invisible praise quota was filled, the pair of bots pulled up their chairs, Sun launching into the details of how he set up his new practice swing-–minus the bit about falling of course.
~
Bright eyes peered through the dimmed room from the edge of a large mattress; on either side sat the Stardusts, with the head of Rukbat between them. It wasn’t a good sleep time. Mother was restless. He wanted to wake her, but Laa kept the canine quiet with her small hand on his snout. Waking mother was bad, Rukbat knew, but her whimpering hurt.
Mother didn’t let them connect to her when she slept. No commands came through. It was quiet.
Twii made a faint sound, also being silenced by her sister with a look. So odd, these two. Rukbat knew they were not like himself–like the large Aquila. They understood mother in ways he never did. Never could. It saddened him that he couldn’t grasp why waking mother from her bad sleep wasn’t allowed. Mother got mad sometimes, but that wasn’t new! Mother hunted when she was mad. Hunting made for good dinner for good boys.
Rukbat was a good boy.
Mother tossed again, grabbing the blanket with her hand. The shiny arm was put away tonight. ‘Foreign’, mother had called it. Sometimes she did that when her shiny arm didn’t feel good; he wasn’t allowed to play with it when she did. That made Rukbat a bad boy.
But sitting was boring. He wanted to sleep but mother had kicked him when her bad sleep started–never her fault! It didn’t hurt, but the soft, nice bed wasn’t comfy when she had bad sleep. Twitching, rolling, sometimes she spoke–not nice things, nonsense things, noises from the forest. Mother was somewhere else in her bad sleep that he couldn’t see.
Oh, how he wanted to help!
The pattern of mother’s breathing changed. Ears perking, Rukbat put a paw on the bed. She would wake soon! Twii made another sound, concerned; she bowed her head and leaned, tapping her sister's chin. Laa pressed back, eyes locked on her mother.
Sure enough, with a sharp gasp Jenn sat bolt upright, half-coughing. Immediately, the trio rushed her, tongue licking and heads butting with concern and care. It was familiar and reassuring to Jenn to have them there, to recognize she was home when the fringes of deep sleep still painted her vision in a mix of dream and reality. “Guess it’s a crap sleep kind of day,” she mused shakily, grateful for the pressure of her twins on either side of her neck and her canine’s head in her lap.
It was bad enough falling asleep at all was a chore, the feeling of ‘too much energy’ in her body making her restless from the outset, her legs twitching or itching. Even removing her false arm didn’t curb the sensation, meaning it wasn’t because of that thing drawing power this time. “Figures,” she went on, voice creaking with fatigue while she got out from under her sheets. “The one time I want to sleep and it's being a little bracht about it.”
For a moment she considered going to make a drink but Twii blinked her facial screen, displaying the time and dashing those plans. If she woke up the other two, they’d likely get on her about her bad sleep habits and that wasn’t a conversation she wanted to have today. Or ever.
“Welp. Nothing a bit of light reading won’t fix, right?”
Crawling over her mattress haphazardly with only one arm, Jenn pulled herself onto the stacked cube shelves that served as a headboard, placed one taller than the next along the wall nearly up to the ceiling. Rukbat whined, waiting for a command, which she gave-–”Follow”-- as she climbed the shelves to the gap where a faint seam was visible among the ceiling tiles. Reaching up, Jenn found the flush handle and pushed it in, opening a panel that formed a ramp into the crawl space above.
Human, Stellis and Stardusts ascended the hidden passage, turning down the dark, low corner until it opened up again. Under the eaves, hidden and taking up the majority of the house’s size was Jenn’s favorite room–-her personal library; carpeted with random bits of salvaged or woven rugs, her footfalls were muted as she stood straight in the center of the room. The near wall was lined with sturdy, heavy shelves, each lined in turn with tomes and bound sheafs of paper of topics and tales that couldn’t be easily categorized or had yet to find space in the other more accessible spots scattered through the house-–the kitchen had cooking and canning books, the lounge had fiction and entertainment, and her lab had the relevant texts at the ready. Up here, though, was everything else-–and bits of the rest thrown in simply because they didn’t fit on the shelves otherwise.
The far wall had a panel of flexscreen pulled down, programmed into the video feed of the only surveillance camera that still worked on the property, providing a perfect outside view of the yard, the top of Aquila’s roost and the canopy. It helped keep the sloping roof from feeling claustrophobic, she felt. An old, beaten desk took up the wall to her right, nestled in the center of the shelves containing her personal works–-what she was able to organize of them, anyway. The myriad other piles of papers scattered across the floor below had yet to make their way up here. It would probably do her some good to fix that sometime.
Not yet, though. One of those piles was her only seat at the table, so until her guests left and she got her chairs back, they would remain-–like the gray, staticy feeling that hazed her as she pulled out her desk chair to thumb through the papers that were already sitting out. Kinda wish I could just take a bath and be done with it, Jenn thought sternly, glad the papers were what she wanted and she didn’t have to get up again. Unfortunately, mental dust didn’t go away with a scrub or a soak like grime on the body.
Rukbat readily curled up under the desk, in the perfect spot for her to rub his back absently with the bottom of her foot. The twins found ways to entertain themselves on the desk or floor, often chasing bugs or each other as Jenn worked; today was no different, Twii engaging in a game of tag before Jenn had even settled fully. What those two did to entertain themselves during the day was a mystery to her, even after so long, but seeing them happy and thriving was all she needed to know to be content.
It’s been… about three years, hasn’t it? the human pondered, watching as Laa got an advantage by darting behind a book stack to get away from her sister, hiding underneath the shelf below. I’d say time flies but it definitely feels like that long. Longer, sometimes.
She sighed, surprising herself.
Grunting, “Bah,” she turned to the stack of papers once more, rereading the notes she’d placed the last time she was there.
Part way through her review, the intrusive thoughts began.
It’s odd they warmed up so quickly to the Sunrise, but kind of nice too.
Jenn nodded to herself. It was nice, indeed. Almost no one came out this way at all; in fact, she could count on one hand the number of people who even knew where she was to begin with. The twins only liked two of them.
I wonder if they’re online?
Hesitating, Jenn took a breath and gave a quick, “Hey,” to the girls, getting their attention before Laa could pounce on her sister. “Twii, c’mere.”
Chirping happily, the pink blur came over immediately. She hovered, giving a somersault in the air before settling in Jenn’s upturned hand.
“Check my contacts quick?”
A cone of light appeared from the central display node of the Stardust’s facial disk, coalescing from particles of light into a legible screen showing a display from a forum page. Gesturing through the prompts, Jenn navigated to her contacts page, then to her priority column. Only two names were displayed, their statuses underneath showing they were ‘unavailable’.
WKYD3Z7: status–offline (last seen: 46 days ago)
The status line below their name read “bzy in scrap cntry”. Jenn could only guess what was taking so long out that way but it wasn’t unusual for this one to be wandering dead zones where the signal towers didn’t reach so there was no helping it.
The second contact was the concerning one.
MSKBD1X: status–offline (last seen: 126 days ago)
Two-and-a-half months. The status line only read the default “unavailable”.
It’s not like he’s never been offline this long before, Jenn assured herself, but it didn’t stop the worry.
It never stopped the worry.
“Thanks, Twii.” The screen faded away, Twii peeping curiously at her mother who gave her gentle chin scratches in thanks. “Don’t worry about it, just… hoping they’re both alright.”
Jenn allowed her pink child to return to their game, feeling the fingers of concern and isolation drag themselves through her mind-–she shook her head vigorously, which disturbed Rukbat from his nap. “Ah, sorry, bud.” Unbothered, the canine gave her knee a lick and rolled over, pressing his weight into her foot comfortingly. “At least I have you all…”
Yet, she sighed again, laying the papers on her desk.
The intrusive thoughts hadn’t stopped.
At least they can’t leave me.
Jenn squeezed her hand into a fist, grimacing. Not again.
I hope the girls won’t be too sad when the boys leave.
Hand on her thigh, Jenn stared at the papers, trying to force herself to read the notes.
They obviously really like the Sunrise. He’s very kind.
Her nails dug into her skin, trying to get the thoughts to quiet.
Maybe if I offered, they’d want to stay–?
A raw, red flare of lines appeared as Jenn’s nails scraped across her thigh, successfully jarring her from the spiral that nearly got her. “Ow…” Hissing between her teeth at the soreness, she adjusted her seat slightly to rest her head in her hand over the desk. “Knock it off,” she said quietly. “You did it to yourself by looking on the network.” Twii and Laa peeked out from the bookshelf, hearing the grumbling. “Just… be patient. Who cares if those boys want to leave? Soon, you’ll have a companion just like them who won’t want to go anywhere and who you can trust… hopefully… You’ve lasted this long. What’s another year? Or two?” Slowly, Jenn sank onto the desk, forehead pressed into the crook of her elbow; her throat hurt, making her voice crack. “Just be… patient.”
Concerned, the twins exchanged looks before floating down, circling their mother’s hunched form as it quivered, her breath shaking.
It had been a long time since they’d last seen their mother cry-–but there wasn’t anything they could do to help.
… was there?
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Next Chapter
Sun’s rays fluttered excitedly, even after his brother’s silhouette had disappeared into the treeline. Turning with a wide smile, he paused upon seeing the troubled look on Jenn’s face as she stared after Moon. It was gone in a blink however, a half-smile replacing the concern as she looked up to him, a playful quirk of her brow denoting amusement at his own excitement. “Come on, bright eyes,” she casually pointed over her shoulder with her thumb, “we got enough cleared off you can use some of the stuff now.”
Step-in-step, Sun tailed behind the human as she moved between the uncovered structures, tying her skirt up around her hips to keep it out of the way. While working, Sun had occupied his mind with trying to determine the use of each piece of equipment that seemed familiar to him, even vaguely. Many of the things Jenn used for her own fitness resembled the ones he and Moon used a long, long time ago–-
Was it that long? Sun asked himself as Jenn twisted the top of a hip-level, flat dais the size of a dinner plate, knocking loose a few vines that avoided the clippers. It sure feels like it. The estate had none of the things they’d used to hone their balance and flexibility; this feeling of recognition was from before then, in the murky days that he could barely recall as he came into himself under the guidance of his builders.
Moon was there, that much he knew, but the rest came and went in waves. If he tried to think too hard, he only got tired–-so many new faces had entered and left his memory since then, it was impossible to fully sort out if they were from before at the facility he was made in or simply the earliest of the visitors to the estate. Many of his strongest memories from then were of Moon and them forming their bond, but the rest…?
Silvon. The name jumped out at him like a rabbit breaking cover from a predator, almost startling him.
The magenta-eyed human that introduced them to that woman-–to Vissara.
Faintly, Sun hoped the well-dressed but cold human was well and hadn’t gotten in too much trouble because of them. It was hard to forget that gaze, even from a time when memories were still a bit blurry with age. Despite being stone-faced and emotionally distant, Silvon had been polite to them and taught them how to behave in the estate, giving them schedules and tasks to keep them out of trouble when they got too curious. Sun had every reason to like Silvon.
It was odd to him that he didn’t.
In fact, he felt nothing in regard to the magenta-eyed human. Not hate or love, he didn’t like or dislike Silvon in any regard. They simply existed in the estate as Vissara’s assistant, while Sun coexisted indifferently to them.
Weird, he concluded, having expected to feel one way or another. He had opinions about everyone he met, however briefly. Shrugging lightly, Sun chose to unpack his less-than-complex feelings later–-perhaps he should ask Moon what he felt about Silvon? That might sway him one way or another.
“These’ll probably help with your balance issue.” Jenn’s voice cut through the golden bot’s thoughts, drawing him back to the present. She’d climbed onto the small dais while he was distracted and stretched one leg out, her other wobbling slightly as she tried to keep poised on the disk as it twitched back and forth in an attempt to knock her off. “Just be prepared to kiss the grass in the meantime. They’re–”
Body jerking sharply as her ankle gave out, Jenn buckled. Hands up, Sun stepped forward, prepared to catch her–-swinging her other leg down, Jenn righted herself enough not to fall. The balancing plate still jerked and twitched at the slightest movement, but she fared much better on two legs.
“I really don’t want to fall on you,” she warned, eventually finding her equilibrium by holding her arms out.
“Well,” he replied, taking a half step back, “catching you would be better than kissing the ground, right?”
“Says the guy made of metal.”
“I’m softer than I look!”
A flicker of her brow dipping suspiciously–-Jenn swung her leg again, making the plate spin in place. As she came back to the front, her expression was back to normal; she nodded beside herself to the neighboring plate. “Go try one.”
Looking where she indicated, Sun could make out a handful of similar daises of varying sizes and heights scattered about the immediate area. Picking one next to his guide, he pulled himself up with a single stride, wobbling just a bit as the pivot slid around underfoot; crouching reflexively, the lanky bot held fast to the edges until it stopped moving. Slowly, he stood, weight bearing down on one leg while his system rapidly adjusted in the background to compensate for every minor change in equilibrium.
“Tall ass,” Jenn muttered in regard to the ease at which Sun could simply do things because of his build being lengthy and mostly leg.
“Huh?”
Staring at him as he found his footing, Jenn repeated, “Tall,” while pointing, a playful pout indicating she was teasing.
“Oh.” Looking down from his new spot, Sun rubbed his neck. “I am, aren’t I?”
“Just a lot. Lucky.”
Chuckling faintly at what he assumed was a compliment of some kind, Sun watched Jenn adjust her center of gravity before taking a wide step onto another spinning plate; it also twitched slightly, pulling her off balance and threatening to toss her to the ground. Thinking quick, the gold bot’s hand whipped out, grabbing onto her forearm. As he did, his own sense of balance twisted out from under him, forcing the lanky dancer to step against the edge of a different dais to keep himself from tumbling with her. It was for nothing, though, as Jenn had only wobbled a bit and recovered herself, face pinched in a look of pure confusion.
“Can I help you?” she wondered cautiously, staring him down with a bright glint in her eyes.
Squeaking, Sun let her go and stood upright, hands tucked to his collar protectively. “S-sorry! I thought you were going to fall!”
Blue stared down teal as Jenn studied him intensely for a moment, still confused but not commenting further as she placed her focus back on the collection of hazardous steps around them. One by one she stepped, hopped or strode across them, sometimes spinning to keep her balance; unsure what that look had been for, Sun followed, vaguely imitating her stance where needed as he picked apart the ways the different steps turned or shook under his weight. Distracted as he was by trying not to fall, it wasn’t until he’d reached the edge of the ‘stepping stones’, as he decided to call them, that Jenn’s presence was notably lacking. Turning once about-face, there was no sign she’d taken a turn back to the center without him noticing.
A metallic smack drew his focus around and up–-Jenn had climbed onto the next structure that was still partially overgrown at its base, her hands firmly grasping one of a series of long metal pipes that stretched the gap between one side of the unit and the other. Swinging forward, she reached for the next bar, making a similar sound as the impact reverberated through the structure. Again, but a more tinny bang as her false arm hit the pipe. Again–-her body swayed side-to-side, picking up speed as she walked herself across the rails using her legs to generate momentum to make the next grab.
At the halfway point of her climb, Sun hoisted himself up from the stones using the metal pegs lining the support beams and peered down, his HUD giving him an estimation of about twelve feet from there to the ground which was still overgrown with trusslin. Plenty of space for him, to his surprise, but far less of a falling hazard to himself compared to Jenn-–it was with a sharp bit of realization that he truly understood why this area was left untrimmed and why something like trusslin had even been placed in the first place. This was no kids’ playground of colorful plastic and metal with padding or wood chips underneath; standing at just over seven feet himself, finding human-sized things that he could use was a bit of a dice roll at times, but this equipment wasn’t built to accommodate four-foot-something children or even six-and-some-odd-inch adults like a normal playground.
Grabbing hold of the first bar, Sun watched Jenn dismount with a graceful arc onto a platform secured at the end of the bars roughly nine feet off the ground, barely making a sound as her feet hit the wood; she turned to him, waiting with her arms crossed. There’s no way this is made for robots, that doesn't make sense, he told himself while swinging down-–gravity took hold with a suddenness he hadn’t prepared for, making him fearful of letting go as he swung forward, then back, grip straining against his mass as it was pulled down by invisible force.
Skilled as she was, Jenn couldn't be immune to gravity or falling, even if she seemed to ignore it with ease. Alerts and warnings flooded Sun’s vision, cautioning him against a fall and estimating damage if he landed incorrectly–-now knowing that he was sturdy enough to survive what should have been a lethal height, the estimates were taken with a grain of salt yet if he could possibly get hurt by dropping and landing incorrectly, the risk to Jenn was far greater. He was metal and springs and bolts--she was flesh and bone, the things that made organics infamous for being squishy and fragile; a bad fall from double her height could be disastrous. What had she said?
“I’ve avoided a few broken bones.”
The next section beyond this one was higher than the bars. This became acutely noticeable as Sun looked up from his hanging position to the structure attached to the platform Jenn waited for him on, fully overgrown across its lower reaches but easily double the height of–-no, wait, only by about half more, according to his HUD’s estimate–-nearly twenty feet off the ground. Knowing she was waiting, the golden bot began to swing, taking a bit of effort to find a rhythm to cross the bars as his lengthy body was a tad unwieldy when swinging if he wasn’t careful. The landing wasn’t quite as graceful as he’d liked, having to tuck his legs in to clear the edge of the platform, but nothing a few rounds of practice wouldn’t fix–-that would be for later though. Sun was too concerned by his observations to think about practicing.
“Jenn?” he asked as she turned from him, grabbing onto the pegs that would carry them up to the next area. Pausing, the human glanced at him expectantly. “How… how often do you use this equipment?” Sounding nonchalant was proving difficult, a tight grin only serving to make him appear more stressed than he wanted.
“All the time.”
He’d been afraid of that answer.
“Just didn’t get to it this time around after getting home.” Looking upward, she bounced and took hold of a peg, beginning to climb. “Don’t let the weeds fool you, it’ll be grown over again in a couple weeks, just you wait. I promise it’s all in good condition.”
Waiting his turn at the bottom of the ladder, a worrisome twist churned his insides. “Um, no, I-I believe that.”
“Then what’s bugging you?”
Would it be insulting to point out how insanely dangerous this whole thing is? Probably. It wasn’t his place to tell her she was risking her health when she wasn’t his to care for… yet confirmation that Jenn was regularly meandering around and climbing on rough-built exercise equipment alone using only plants as a safety guard set off his care programming whether he wanted it to or not. “I… you… do this alone? Every time?”
Reaching the top and hopping onto the edge, Jenn turned and looked down, waiting for him. “Yeah?”
Why are you so calm about that??
“It’s not like Twii and Laa need exercise and Ruk has no thumbs.”
That’s not what I’m worried about!
“And, well… you’ve seen I don’t exactly keep company that often.”
Slowly, Sun hoisted himself up each rung of the pin ladder, not needing nearly as many holds as Jenn did due once more to his height making up most of the distance for him. “I… Forgive me if I’m blunt but isn’t that dangerous?”
She stared a moment, head tilting slightly before answering, “I guess so? That’s why I planted the trusslin.”
“No, I…” At the top, Jenn hobbled to the side to give him clearance to get over the lip of the structure; vertigo washed over him as he caught a glimpse of the ground, voice draining away to a faint whine. Alerts blared caution in his head about the hazards of being so high up, unsecured.
“You good, bright eyes?”
Stiff as a board, Sun turned to see Jenn crouched on the balls of her feet on the beam that was barely wide enough to do so, totally at ease. “W-w-we–this is–it’s very high!” It took focus but he found a way to sit on the small stretch of wood in the least risky way possible for himself.
“Yep.”
“How-–how are you so calm?? Don’t you know if you fall you could…” He hesitated a moment, changing his word choice. “... get hurt??”
“I know.” Standing suddenly made Sun yelp but Jenn’s movements had taken on a smooth gait that felt completely different to moments before on the spinning stones. It was as if being higher up made her more confident somehow. Even the gentle breeze that flowed over the trees didn’t sway her as she walked over the beam to a wider section; scooting carefully, Sun followed, glad to be on more stable ground even if it was higher than he’d like it to be. “I can’t really afford to not have it though. Keeping myself sharp and fit is necessary in my line of work.”
Unprepared for her to continue, Sun hiccuped, “Huh?” as he sat up, avoiding sight of the ground until he’d adjusted for aerial performance. That finicky program was very particular about the conditions needed to auto-run so he opted to manually process it before the vertigo came back. “Your… line of work?”
“Yeah, I have a job.” A light, dry laugh stopped short as she realized he genuinely didn’t know that. It hadn’t come up yet. “Did you think I just lived out here and did whatever every day?”
“Ah… maybe?”
Rubbing her cheek, she nodded, relenting. “Actually, that’s fair, I guess. Yes, I have a job, and it's very hard on the body at times so I need to stay in shape.”
“I…” Sun scratched his jaw. “I’m sorry, I didn’t notice you doing anything, I just assumed…”
She laughed again, dry and low. “It’s not an everyday job. I actually just got back from it about a day before you two popped in so no, you haven't seen me working.”
“Oh!” His brow furrowed. What job needs this kind of physical demand? Part of him wanted to ask, but a greater part was afraid to know if it made her so nonplussed about her own safety.
“Let me guess.”
His eyes flashed to hers, which were almost shining in the light of the sky, bringing out the brilliant tones of cyan in her irises–-it was the first moment Sun genuinely realized how vibrant her eye color was. It was very beautiful, but eerie as well at how unnatural it felt at that moment.
“You’re concerned because if I fell and got seriously injured, no one would be around to help me.”
That absolutely was what he felt, but focusing was not on his mind at the moment. Not on her words, in any case.
High up as they were, they didn’t clear the canopy but it opened their field of view enough that the sky stretched nearly from horizon to horizon in all directions, glinting and shining with the yellow aurora he’d seen so many times through the windows of the estate house. Brilliant, shining blue eyes had riveted his attention for some seconds before Sun was able to drift free, caught in how the yellow light cast a shadow on Jenn’s face that only emphasized the unearthly glow her eyes had–-well, that he thought they had at least, given how richly colored they were. Her hair, dyed a deep blue at the ends but grown in at the root into its natural ash blonde, took on an array of colors from gold to brown under the aurora’s glow, even tinting green in a way that didn’t seem natural at first. From these faux colored locks, his gaze followed the light into the sky itself behind her head, drawn into the mass of clouds that scattered the aurora’s light to every corner that engulfed Azil’s sky in semi-permanent cover.
The aurora wasn’t new. From his room, Sun had seen it almost every day: a bright array of light through the single window he had, accompanied by the smallest sliver of Uls in the corner. It was the same aurora now, yet out here he felt for the first time he was really seeing it–-how the edges turned green or sometimes pink as the light twisted around itself, dancing a bizarre, rhythmless dance only it knew the steps to. Within city walls and narrow streets, it was hard to imagine just how big it was, but out here…
Snap snap.
Jolting back to reality, Sun blinked, focusing on the fingers in front of his face. “Sorry??” he blurted reflectively, embarrassed he’d zoned out so hard out of nowhere.
Blue eyes stared back at him with concern; there was no glow in them.
Of course not, that’d be silly.
“Do you want to watch the aurora or keep going?” Though she sounded annoyed, her gaze was gentle–-he thought so, anyway.
“We can… we can keep going, I’m sorry. I’ve…” Words were becoming more and more difficult lately as Sun realized he lacked the right ones to explain himself properly anymore.
Sitting back, Jenn looked up at the sky, a faint smile on her lips that put him at ease. “It’s different when you can see the whole sky, isn’t it?”
A smile of his own crossed his face, relieved she understood what he was feeling despite being unable to say it the way he wanted. “It very much is.” Standing, Jenn offered her hand, pulling the golden robot to his feet despite his hesitation at the act. After what she’d said about fitness, it shouldn’t have shocked him that she was stronger than she looked but nevertheless he was still a bit impressed that she didn’t struggle as much as he’d expected given he was nearly double her weight. Without meaning to, he said as much aloud before clamping a hand to his mouth.
Thankfully, she didn’t seem upset about his wayward comment. “Just wait, you haven’t seen anything yet!” Motioning behind her to the open area of the structure, Jenn half-skipped to the edge, seeming delighted. “I’m much better at swinging than I am at strength tests!”
Now that his aerial programming was in effect, the vertigo was negated, allowing Sun to peer down to the tangled underbrush below without feeling dizzy or unbalanced. They were very high, that much he knew, but unlike the bars this area didn’t have a coherent connecting point between parts. Arches tall as trees with metal pipes running across them stood at attention in random spots, towering over the other equipment like sentinels. Some of them had ropes or additional bars at the half or three-quarters mark but they were nowhere near each other to grab onto easily; at the far end of the clearing was a taller pillar bolted into a tree with an arm that hung over an empty spot but nothing attached to it. It felt unfinished to him, like something was supposed to be there.
Familiarity came first as he understood what the bars were for.
Behind it was fear.
“This is my favorite part to use.” Jenn’s voice echoed in his head as if she were far away, her body moving in slow motion to him as she kicked off the platform, arms extended.
Nothing came out of his mouth when he tried to call out, his own body too slow to stop her until she was already over the edge.
Sun’s knees hit the platform as he tumbled forward, missing her by a hair with everything screaming DANGER at him; Jenn’s hands hit a bar that had been out of sight from their vantage point, just far enough forward that she didn’t slam into it with her head or chest. With the ease of many years of practice, the human swung, the pipe turning in its socket to send her forward and up; she let go, sailing into the air like a leaf on the wind. He gawked, half awestruck and half terrified he was about to witness a tragedy–-Sun’s HUD frantically pinged with estimations as he tracked Jenn’s gymnastics through the open air.
Toes pointed, the human managed a fluid flip as she came down to the next bar, grabbing on and carrying herself around it without a care in the world. Once–-twice–-she spun on the bar before launching again, flinging herself upward to a higher bracket; a rope dangled from the center, only about ten feet in length. Nowhere near the ground.
To his horror, Jenn didn’t make it to the bar–-thank Azil the rope was there! With a creak, she grabbed hold of the end of the safety rope, swinging wildly while climbing her way up to the top with barely a moment of hesitation. Once she was at the peak of the rung, she waved, perched once again on the balls of her feet.
Releasing a held breath, Sun shouted, “ARE YOU ALRIGHT????” as he had nothing else he could manage without growing hysteric.
After a moment, she called back, “I’m fine! C’mon!”
Nope.
Nope, no, absolutely not!
Making a large X with his arms, Sun declined. “I’m okay right now! I… I’m going back to the wobbly things!” He turned to scoot his way back down the ladder.
“Okay! I’ll join you!”
Freezing, Sun’s brain fired off an, “Oh no,” as it assumed what her way down entailed. To his great relief, instead of jumping into the grass, he whipped around in time to see Jenn slide down the pillar making up one leg of the structure, moving as if hand holds were placed along it that he couldn’t make out from that distance. “Oh, thank Azil…” he huffed, slumping down for a moment with pure relief. After composing himself, the golden worrywart was able to make his way down, meeting the squishy human at the edge of the hazard plates; unable to help himself, he took hold of her elbows, speaking quickly while giving her a multi-pass look over. “What were you doing?? That was insane! What would you have done if you’d missed a bar?? I know those leaves are soft but a fall like that–”
Stunned for a moment by the sudden contact, Jenn’s hands moved out of reflex to protect herself, turning over to break his grip and shove his own away–-she stopped at holding one palm to his face, fingers pointing in a way that warned him about his eyes and nose being vulnerable targets. Had he been human that is. Her other hand was tucked against her side, cuffed and waiting in a striking position; it settled quickly, a fraction of a minute, as she snapped out of her automatic self-defense and took a step back.
Occasionally sparring with Moon was paying off it seemed, as he recognized motions as being defensive in nature, though Sun wasn’t very happy to know he’d triggered a fight response by being overbearing. Hands snapping away, he also took a half step back to disengage, eyes wide. “I’m sorry!” The apology tumbled out with the same frantic tone as his worries. “I didn’t mean to touch you! I–I was worried, I–”
Expression changing from blank shock to confusion, Jenn snapped, “Why?” cutting off his fumbling apology.
“Why…?”
“I do this all the time,” she reiterated, forcing her body to relax fully. “I train to do this. Did you not hear me?”
“No, I…” Taking a steadying breath, Sun brought his voice under some amount of control. “I did, I just didn’t know what that… entailed. Seeing you just… walk off the edge of a platform that high… that’s not something I see people do. I got scared.”
“No, I understand that.”
He was more confused now.
“Why do you care?”
“Huh?”
Eyes flicking up and down him with a wary glint, she shuffled her footing, seeming almost uncomfortable at the idea. “You don’t know me, we are not friends. If I got hurt, you could just take my house and live your life.”
Sun was appalled.
“Why do you care if I fall and get hurt?”
Voice fractured with concern, Sun clipped out, “You’re a human?? ”
“And?”
“And?? What and?? Beyond the fact my base programming is literally made to ensure the happiness and wellbeing of the humans around me?? Because isn’t that what people do?? Keep each other safe??” More and more, Sun’s voice was getting away from him, rising and straining with the desire to fracture under his barely contained stress. That isn’t how he wanted to crack–-he didn’t want to crack at all!
This seemed to shake loose the stiff posture Jenn had been holding herself in as she realized the tall robot was genuinely beginning to break down into a panic attack. What do I do-–shekt! Stepping forward, Jenn tried to reach toward Sun but he flinched back, causing her to freeze. “Hey!” she barked loudly, managing to shake him from the spiral with the sudden sound. “I-–I’m fine, right?” Placing a hand over her chest, Jenn tried again to reach out. “I’m alright. And… you’re right, I should… be more careful. I just can’t be. I have a high-risk job, so I don’t get to wait for help. I’m sorry if that’s not what you want to hear, but I’ve survived like this for years. I’m fine.”
HUD flashing a collection of warnings, Sun focused on the hand nearing him–-five fingers--the color of the grass--green-–gazing up slightly, he saw the blue of Jenn’s irises once again. Bright blue.
Soft.
A warm hand touched his chest, gentle and slow, the pressure giving him a place to focus on that wasn’t within his own chaotic mind. Peering down between himself and her worried expression, Sun saw the light flashing under his shirt and that Jenn’s gaze was drawn to it; intended as an aesthetic feature, the feature built into his chest had more than once gotten him in trouble for being distracting. In some effort to imitate a human heartbeat, Sun’s makers installed a frosted panel on his left pectoral shaped like a stylized heart and made to glow in time to his system pulse whenever he felt strong emotions. Unfortunately for him, it wasn’t consistent, often flaring up when it wasn’t supposed to–-when he was uncomfortable, in most cases.
And afraid.
It was that inconsistency that forced them to deactivate the command when they first caught a break in their escape effort. “A high risk of blowing our cover,” as Moon put it–-and Sun obeyed–-but it hadn’t activated before now, even after Jenn rebooted them. So why now? There was no way to know at the moment why it chose now to make itself known, but it did serve to keep him focused on something long enough for his exhaust cycle to correct itself, forcing a sense of calm to blanket his system.
The light had been unexpected, drawing Jenn’s focus despite her best effort to stay on task to calm the panicking robot; she’d seen the panel and known what it was for during diagnostics, however it hadn’t been used until now. Whichever series of circumstances needed to activate it weren’t something she’d looked into, but now it was clear it at least responded to distress. Intense distress. Both of them seemed drawn to the waning and growing pulse of white light, measuring it as it slowed and faded to a reasonable level before fully going dark.
Grateful he’d been spared from a full meltdown by happenstance, Sun exhaled slowly and steadily, laying his hand over Jenn’s carefully to not trigger another defensive reaction. That was all the farther he got, however, before she beat him to the apology. “I’m sorry.” Just as gently, her other hand covered his as if trying to reassure him she was truly alright.
“You don’t need to–”
A sharp glint as her eyes snapped to his stopped him cold. “I will not apologize for what I did because I will do it again, but I am going to apologize for not warning you better.” She took a moment to relax her expression a bit when it grew stern. “I’ve gotten used to the kinds of people who do this sort of stuff as well, they don’t bat an eye at playground equipment like this.”
Calling these giant thingamajigs ‘playground equipment’ was not something he agreed on, but he kept that to himself.
“I also apologize for not considering you might be afraid of heights–”
This time, Sun was able to cut her off, nearly laughing at the odd conclusion. “I’m not afraid of heights! I was afraid of you falling!”
Pulling her hand away, Jenn folded her arms. “I still don’t know why you’d bother but… well, it’s good you don’t have issues being up high. Whenever you get on your way, you’ll want to be prepared for climbing things.”
The reminder of departing threatened to bring the stress back to the surface if he didn’t distract himself quickly. “Actually!” Pointing to the empty overhang, Sun scrambled for anything to keep from thinking of the future ahead of them. “I was going to ask what that was for! I can’t tell what it is.”
Following his finger, Jenn ‘hm’ed before answering. “It was supposed to be a long climbing rope but I never got around to finishing the actual rope part.”
“So you can hang something from it safely?”
“Yep. Everything here might look questionable but it was built by a friend of mine with engineering experience so it’s up to par.”
It took all his effort to keep his question to himself about her admitting to having friends somewhere. “Is… there any chance maybe we could tie something up there…?” Curious, Jenn tilted her head again; he likened this expression to a confused animal. Sun tapped the tips of his forefingers together. “I really like silk dancing, it’s… relaxing. I figured it might also help me with my …” Gesturing to himself loosely, the golden bot struggled to find the right way to ask this favor, already prepared to be denied. “... this balance issue. But if not–”
Jenn shrugged. “Yeah, sure.”
Sun fumbled a bit at the end, unprepared for her approval. There was no sensible way to respond he could come up with other than, “Ah… thank you!”
“I’ve got some leftover fabric at the house, can you sew? I’m sure if you fasten the ends together it’ll hold up pretty well.”
It was never so easy to get a request approved of at the estate, especially the first time it was asked. A flicker of elation coursed through his circuits, a soft pulse of light following suit. “I can, yes!”
“C’mon, then.” Waving him after her, Jenn turned and began the trek back to the house.
As they cleared the wobbling stones and reached the tree line, Sun caught the motion of Jenn untying her skirt, then rubbing her lower back closest to her tailbone. Fearing she actually was hurt from her ‘exercise’, he reflexively inquired, “Are you alright?” hoping it was nothing too worrisome.
“Yeah, I’m fine, just wishing I had a tail.”
“... excuse me?”
Truly, she was a baffling human.
~
“Ee!”
The little pink thing sat on the rail, crouched and ready to spring at him at a moment’s notice. Moon stared it down, faintly amused but mostly inconvenienced by the sudden appearance of Twii. After satisfying the ‘pet me’ quota for both the avian, Aquila, and the canine, Rukbat–-who’d charged up the steps the moment he saw the bird getting attention from the blue robot-–Moon left the roosting platform with the intention to go inside. This meant coming back to the junction of doors that had vexed him previously; on the left, the unlocked kitchen, on the right, the mystery door that the canine had managed to slip into when he’d walked away last.
For a moment, he’d debated trying his hand at getting in again, but to his own surprise it was dismissed faster than it had come up. Was there truly a reason to go prying into the human’s personal business beyond his own unjustified paranoia? Paranoia that was being proven to be ridiculous again and again.
No.
There was no real reason. Perhaps he’d try this ‘benefit of the doubt’ thing the human-–Jenn-–mentioned. Starting by using their names, at least.
It was not a canine–-he was Rukbat.
It was not a bird–-she was Aquila.
The human was Jenn.
The blots of color–
No sooner had he thought of them, Moon felt something smack into his head with a chirp, dragging him from his thoughts. Moving quickly, he took hold of the bundle on his head and brought it into view, not expecting to see the pink pocket computer kicking against his grip and squeaking at him defiantly. “What the halt–”
A tug on his shirt collar made him spin, losing his grasp on the small robot so she could get away. Turning back, Moon saw the pink blur land on the handrail, tail held up to enforce the authority of the chirp she gave him. Scowling, he folded his arms. “Do we have a problem?”
“Ee!”
Whatever that meant, he couldn’t comprehend. Most of him didn’t care to figure it out either. Huffing, the dark robot spoke, more so to fill the silence than to willfully engage in one-sided conversation. “I commend your effort at protecting your owner’s privacy but I don’t think it’ll work as well as you think it does.”
Twii hopped forward once, the end of her tail pulsing. “Ee–eeee! E!”
“Look, I’m not actually trying to break in this time, so–”
Overhead, a different squeak interrupted him, pulling his attention up. Head poking out over the edge of the roof, Laa peeped sternly, “Aa.”
Well, that explains what yanked on me. Looking between the pair for any sign of what they were trying to accomplish, Moon imitated the purple blur with rhetorical flatness, “Ah?”
Laa’s gaze narrowed at him. “A.”
What’s that look for? Did I say something offensive?
“Eeeee…!”
Turning again, Moon’s brows shot up–-Twii clung onto the rail for dear life, little arms wrapped as far around the rail as she could get them, unable to find purchase for her feet on the smooth metal. Quickly but gently, the blue dancer leaned over and cupped his hand, scooping the small bot up before she could fall. Sluggishly, Twii curled into his palm, the end of her tail pulsing weakly; as he observed her with growing worry, her facial screen blinked to a red bar. “Your battery!” he blurted, realizing sharply she hadn’t attacked him, she’d fallen when her magnetic lifting function shut off!
“A.” Laa floated down from the roof, her expression only reading as ‘finally’.
“Where’s your charging dock?” Moon inquired, holding the pink companion protectively against his chest.
Laa pointed toward the kitchen door with a quiet, “A,” before zipping toward it. Following quickly, Moon tailed the small unit through the kitchen, down the hall and into the lounge; Laa banked left at the entryway, stopping over a small end table with a circular charging dock in the middle tucked into the corner of the narrow room. How he never noticed it before now was beyond him, but at least it wasn’t locked behind the impassable doors that continued to taunt him. Ever so carefully, Moon placed the pink twin on the dock, nudging her tail into place so all of her was in contact with the transfer pad; the dock lit up with blue-white light, the red bar flashing on Twii’s face switching to a white indicator the second after.
A breath escaped him as relief filled his system; had he really been stressing over a recharge? Shaking his head at his own odd behavior, Moon’s eyes found and followed Laa as she approached her sister, sitting patiently without climbing onto the dock directly. She felt his gaze and looked up at him, unreadable as always.
“A.”
“You’re welcome.” With nothing else to do, Moon began to rifle through one of the many piles of notes that filled the corners of Jenn’s house, trying to find something worth reading. “I don’t suppose you know what was in that big binder she was looking for, do you?”
He didn’t expect an answer he could understand, only hearing another, “Aa,” that meant nothing to him.
The stapled pamphlet in his hands had a timestamp in the corner from roughly three months ago; the rest of it was a series of figures and formulas regarding an aurora anomaly that he barely understood at a glance. Putting it back, Moon paced around in a small circle. What were we even doing three months ago…? he wondered, attention continually returning to the recharging Stardust when his thoughts slowed.
Three months felt more like three years.
There was no other way to really explain the sensation as he combed through the memory files that weren’t lost or locked away; even though he knew what the passage of time felt like and could measure it using Adir Standard Intervals, there was a lingering disconnect between fact and feeling that he struggled to reconcile. More and more Moon felt a wall building between himself and the outside world. At first it was barely noticeable, done with such insidious slowness that only by looking back could he feel a marked difference in not only his own behavior, but how he related to things around him. To people.
To his own brother.
Three months ago, the two of them still found quiet solace in the garden, enjoying the scant hours they were allowed outside without supervision. Observe the flowers, but never pick them. Enjoy the cygnus birds, but never disturb them. Walk the designated path, never cut across the grass–-they only made that mistake once.
Afterward, Sun was so terrified to deviate from the sidewalk, he’d stopped walking through the yard altogether. Only because of their Lock was Moon able to prevent him from gaining a phobia of grass entirely with how distraught he was once they were reunited–-not that it was new by that point. Moon himself was well aware that their owner was not a kind woman no matter how she tried to portray herself to the public. Purely by the power of his own denial, Sun bought into her kind words–-though that may have been out of self-preservation, thinking back on it. The grass incident was the tipping point, Moon felt, for his brother developing fear of that woman in place of affection or devotion. The excuses had stopped, their disagreements about fairness turned into mutual understanding, but the outdoors had lost its appeal.
It’s not like they ever left the garden anyway.
Now, though, Moon understood better what they were missing out on–-what had been denied them this entire time by that woman’s obsessive desire to smother them. Even that behavior was beginning to make sense to him in hindsight, much as he detested the idea of understanding that vile woman; she was trying to keep them naive, dependent and, this being merely speculation on his part, Moon had a worry that Vissara had been trying to condition them–-or at least Sun–-into being afraid to go outside altogether.
If Sun refused to go outdoors out of fear of stepping on the grass, then Moon wouldn’t go either.
Thankfully, their bond was stronger than Vissara’s manipulation.
However, it was not strong enough to prevent his own mental state from degrading. Disliking his owner was something Moon had within him from nearly the beginning, despite that being considered odd. Something in her mannerisms and behaviors simply didn’t sit right, but the dislike didn’t truly set in until he noticed how restrictive she was. How fixated she was on Sun and on keeping his attention on herself. How she didn't care that those actions were actively harming them both--how much of his own distress he chose to hide from her to avoid making it worse on them.
It turned out he had every reason to despise her.
But now, they were free. Mostly.
Free to travel, to learn, to do whatever they wished–-assuming his dear brother didn’t get attached to the first human showing them common decency. Not that Moon could blame him really, it was literally programmed into their core identity to seek out human company and attempt to fulfill their wishes. To care for them. Please them. Earn their approval.
Yet it still baffled him that his brother didn’t just ignore that urge like he did. He’d long given up that argument as simply being Sun’s nature.
At least it was up until three months ago–
The nagging sensation surged forward from the depths of his mind, bowling over any thoughts currently meandering through his processes to blanket everything with a haze that demanded attention while smothering any attempt to pull free. Three.
Three.
Three months ago, he and Sun would sit in the garden.
He and Sun.
Three weeks ago, he and Sun were preparing–
Error.
–preparing?
Three weeks.
Three–
Moon’s head throbbed painfully as memories attempted to open but couldn’t.
Preparing…
He and Sun.
He… and Sun.
Sun.
Sun.
ERROR.
/MEMORY FILE INACCESSIBLE/
>Reboot?
No!
Light flooded over Moon’s circuits, his pulse points flashing–-everything hurt.
Sun?
What about Sun?
>Reboot?
“NO!”
The sound of his own voice ripped him out of his mental frenzy, bringing Moon back to the moment; everything spun and wobbled, felt wrong.
A dull roar filled the room, as if--
“... Why am I underwater…?”
Roiling around the dark dancer was a bubble, the light of his pulse casting a glimmer through the surface that made him think of stardust in the Sky-Beyond-the-Sky. But it shouldn’t be there! Taking a few breaths to force his system to regulate, Moon tried to recall the water, dismissing it from the room. It was a struggle for a moment. Hopefully nothing was damaged.
“That… isn’t normal,” he told himself, rubbing a hand over his face once everything settled.
“A.”
Turning, Moon caught the unimpressed eye of Laa watching him from the table. A tired chuckle escaped him. “You saw that, didn’t you?”
“Aa-a,” the small computer replied.
“I’m taking that as a yes.”
Laa slow blinked at him.
“Let’s not tell your mom I nearly ruined her upholstery, alright?”
“Aa.”
