Warning! Content ahead is fluff, and ONLY fluff, but there is one suggestive comment, and the theme is slightly suggestive. Reader discretion is advised.
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Cold is bad for redstone, right? Frost thinks she vaguely remembers this— while experimenting with her above ground cold-storage. Not all redstone, of course, but ornate designs have problems. Metal traps condensation, which will thaw into water, and water doesn't mesh well with the delicate redstone dust wire trails inside of Dusk's body.
So why is he stripped of his overcoat, and only covered in a red ribbon?
Frost sputters for a solid minute when she opens the door to her lodge, hearing a knocking while she was working on the sauna. Dusk stands there, completely bare, save for a red ribbon and an orange tulip tucked under some layers and holding it close to his chest. His orange tulip. The one Frost gave him. Somehow, despite everything else missing, he maintained the flower.
"Who did this to you?!" she yelps, shaking herself out of her stupor, reaching out, but unsure what to do. Does she grab him and tug him inside so he doesn't get sick? Try to keep him warm while ushering politely? Forcing him by yanking his bindings seems cruel, so she instead moves to wrap an arm around him, tugging her sleeves to stretch out her sweater in an attempt to cover him while guiding him inside.
"Sylph," Comes the blunt answer.
"He forced you to strip and stand in the snow?!"
"I wasn't forced to stand in the snow. I was brought inside soon after removing my coat."
"Did you—" 'tell him you didn't want this?' That's a loaded question. Dusk won't answer questions worded like that, only says he doesn't feel... Choosing her words carefully, she continues: "Doesn't it impede your goals? Make it so you can't do your directive? Helping Ezra, and that..."
Ushered into the living room, Dusk can only stand as she wraps a throw blanket around him, keeping an opening at the side while she grabs shears. "Correct. My arms are under the ribbon. And extreme temperatures can effect my wiring."
"That's horrible! They should never have forced you into this, I'm so sorry!" Frost yelps, as she snips the ribbon with shears; Making sure to keep Dusk wrapped in enough blankets to maintain modesty, and only snip the side, starting from his shoulders down, allowing him to release himself from the rest of the ribbon when his arm is free. Dusk remains silent, even the faint buzz of his face projecting onto his tinted glass screen, or fizzling of redstone dust inside his chassis is still. She wonders if the cold already damaged something, quickly scurrying out of the room to fetch him another blanket.
Thankfully, the lodge is truly empty, except for them. Corven and Florin would have more blankets to raid from their rooms if she needed them, but hopefully the coverings from her bed would be enough.
When she returns to the living room, he reaches out for the blanket instead of just letting Frost cover him. A first for him, as he usually stands still as a statue. Mechanical digits take the blanket from her arms, and lay them folded over his lap in crisp edged rectangles.
"I was never forced to," He says matter of fact. "I cannot be forced into doing something I do not want."
"You do not want? Wouldn't that imply you have wants?"
"Negative."
"Then what...?"
"I do not want. I have directives. Protect, follow, help... I was given the directive to follow and protect you by Ezra."
"Well you don't have to do that, now that Ezra is back. That command ended already."
"No. I cannot be forced into doing something I do not want. I do not want to abandon this directive: Follow, and protect Frost. The task is no longer be assigned by my master, but I can perform this task."
But isn't it still a command? You don't want to do this, then you shouldn't have let Sylph do this to you, or feel like you need to follow me around because someone told you to. She want's to say all these things, she knows they're probably the truth—
"Completing directives is my purpose. I will not delete this task from my data bank. It is important information. I will leave if you ask. But should you allow it, I will stay by your side when I can. Help how I can. Be what I can for you."
Is it the delusion in her heart that makes her hear a strain on 'be'? Did she hallucinate the whole thing, talking to a powered off screen in ribbon shreds and ugly throw blankets?
She thinks so until she feels cold metal clasp lightly over her fingers.
Soft tipped digits press gently, as if testing the calipers behind the metal, grasping without being painful. Treated as gingerly as glass, like any wrong move and she would snatch her hand away from the machine on her couch. His grip is loose in case she does.
When she doesn't yank her wrist out of the gentle hold, Dusk waits silently, staring blankly at Frost with his glowing green screen illuminating the sight of his hand gripping hers as he snakes it out from beneath the blankets, keeping himself covered save for the hand holding.
Dusk feels his internal text cursors keysmash as the algorithm struggles with the lack of input. She isn't responding. Was this too forward?
Her hesitation markers prickle in Dusk's microphones, Frost clearing her throat as she lightly squeezes his calipers. "I want to stay by your side, too. I want to. It isn't an order, or a directive. To me it's just... A desire."
Testing his luck, Dusk lightly pulls her hand towards him, moving himself over on the couch so she can sit next to him if she wants. Followed by her folding herself up on the edge of the couch, next to him, and still holding his hand awkwardly in her new position. Redstone fizzles and pops softly inside his chassis, processing the thrill of a successful interaction. Perhaps not as successful as Icarus and Sylph made this 'Wear a ribbon and only a ribbon' process sound, but he's here, holding her hand, and hopefully this 'desire' of hers is something he can maintain. Something he can express, when the time comes.
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Later at the tavern, Frost opens the door for Dusk first, allowing the android to step out of the cold, snow already melting off his borrowed leather armor, from Frost's closet.
As the two walk up to the bar-stools, Sylph snickers from a corner: "Enjoy the mechanical bull? Was he coin operated?"
Blood rushes to her face, "We didn't do anything like that!"
His face falls, a mixture is disappointment and confusion. "What? Why not? You're so lame..."
Frost doesn't dignify that with a response, turning to look at Dusk, fiddling with her new gift.
Red ribbon scraps pinched together, singed black middle for the petals to join, and rounded out the edges to make petals. With surgical precision, Dusk frayed the innermost corners to create pistil and stamen, nearly contained in the tiny cup of fabric petals. He brandishes his orange tulip proudly against his monitor. The flower still soft, but covered in cuts and bruises in the delicate petals— even splashing regen potions on it won’t preserve it forever. But this fabric tulip can never wilt.
And she hopes, is a symbol of something more to come.
#the amazing digital circus
#heated rivalry
#aromantic
