#peerlessgem

[eachdawn]

[ FUEL ]

Cryogenic temperatures don't do much to her puppets, and even if they did, Herta's not too opposed to letting one die in a ditch every once in a while. Regular organic lifeforms, though, aren't so lucky. The genius could pull some stunt to heat things up, or---

Of course, there's also an easy solution right beside her, in the form of a bleeding-hearted Amphoreus refugee. He's a hero, right? Likes to help people?

Herta clears her throat, keeping a straight face. "If you want to be more like the Deliverer, Deliverer, try going through those garbage bins over there," she suggests placidly, gesturing with a mechanical hand. "Your friend has found no shortage of treasure in those things. There's probably some quality geomarrow hiding in there right now!"

She taps a foot, expectant. "Waste not, want not. Go on."

a small cough comes somewhere close by as he's been watching over a fire, trying to think on what else could be done to keep it going: when phainon turns, he looks down to find a petite lady speaking with a commanding presence that almost feels familiar, but... for the life of him, he can't place where he's seen ( or heard? ) her before. and her calling him that... phainon's lips purse in thought, concluding that he must know her somehow... that, or she certainly knows him.

but, she wants him to...

...

... rifle through refuse?

pursed lips become more of a perplexed grimace: as outlandish and preposterous as her command is, phainon still can't get over the nagging sense that he really should know who she is, especially with her speaking to him like this while also seemingly referring to the trailblazer as his friend. ( and does caelus really dig through trash bins? was that a fact many of his other friends across the stars knew of him? )...

his perplexed looks deepens again as brows furrow into something now more puzzled, and phainon finally says what he's thinking: "sorry, miss... but, do I know you?"

[trailblczed]

[ GUARD ] - Someone's got to keep the fire going, even when everyone else is asleep, and based on the shifting schedule: it's the two of you. It's nice to have some company that isn't just the flickering flame, but it's still hard to stay awake for hours into the cold night… and, what's that you spy moving in the distance?

“You can go if you want,” Herta says, consciousness tethered to this puppet for the moment. Cute of the authorities to assign guard duty to the quasi-organic lifeforms—not that Herta’s really going to remain here for the entire tedious watch, of course. “I’ll set this puppet on standby, and it’ll call if it spots trouble. Frees up enough time for a Simulated Universe run or two, hmm?” 

There's her own unfinished projects, or perhaps her canopy bed that’s always calling her name, to be getting back to, but the genius blinks and she’s still here, sitting by the fire beside her test subject, as much as she is ever anywhere. She extends one metallic foot directly into the flames, glancing at the rising temperature readings on the sensors. Incredibly charming that this world still uses incomplete combustion at all.

…So she’s staying, for a moment of reprieve, if you will. As the lead of their research project, isn’t she always answering his inane questions? Maybe it’s her turn to pose some of her own. “Droidhead wanted to know why you, or rather Akivili, trailblaze.” She looks out over the darkened snow plains, choosing words he will understand. “Then why do you keep returning to worlds you already saved, when your Path compels you starward?” 

Snowswept StampCard 7(4)/5 | no longer accepting

❛ To be honest with you, I'm pretty content to just sit here.. Even if I wanted to go back, I'm kind of tired. ❜

Tired of what? All the missions? The endless life-ending scenarios Caelus somehow keeps getting into, like there is some sort of once-per-planet-death quota the silver has to meet otherwise he looses his protag status. Or, perhaps it's his body's way of shutting down after such an intense mission that lasted far too long?

Caelus can't quite tell if the Genius is joking or not about doing some more SU runs. Either option is extremely possible. But the jest goes just as quickly as it came- the Nameless deciding his best option is to simply not respond to it at all. But maybe he should have, as what comes after is far more unsettling.

He doesn't like this question. He didn't like it when She had asked- and he definitely doesn't like it now, when his mind is still shattered in places he can't see.. with wounds hiding where no one can touch.

❛ ..... I..... I don't know. ❜

Comes Caelus' honest answer. What? Even if he hated the question, he's not rude enough to leave her without a reply.

❛ ... Maybe for them? Revisiting friends I'm terrified of loosing? To stay with people that I can trust.. that won't toss me aside, leaving me completely clueless as to what it was I had done to deserve it? ❜

The strain on his throat grows tighter the more the silver prattles, too earnest for his own good at times. He hates this. Emotions are so complicated and-- and annoying. Caelus refuses to register the gloss that shines over his eyes, simply blaming it on the fire's embers conflicting with the ice snow. He knows it can't be, one of his abilities is him literally summoning a fire shield-- but it's all he can do to not completely fall apart.