Imagine being part of the member of the Fisalia, instead of being Cantarella, your the one who got kicked out of the picture because you didn't pass the test of surviving the poison trial, because you don't have tolerance to it, Now imagine your Cybertronian partner hearing about it and gets worried that why the hell are you drinking poison like it's soda, licking some off a plate, and now your tears ALSO a toxic substance now???
It's not like you'd want to come back to the family at all, You just proved to be poison tolerant by time and practice and somehow managed to find it fun to consume. (Don't try it guys) instead of a sad backstory, it's all because you can't handle it and you proved the system wrong. You can't sadly kiss your Cybertronian partner mouth to mouth tho, Unless you consumed something freaky and make out with them with it. 🗣️
🥳🤩😘 finally came back to this with many more details fleshed out!!
this is gonna be a series.
dunno how many parts.
yippee pls enjoy!!!
Shorekeeper did not understand attachment in the human sense.
Still, when Monet was absent, the children clung to her like barnacles to a ship’s hull — warm, loud, sticky.
She did not mind.
When Monet had other priorities, she was to interact with the growing children that clamored for attention.
It was a pity, to say the least.
Running simulations was straightforward.
Recalibrating projections based on altered dosage ratios was simpler still.
Master rarely asked questions if the results appeared consistent.
As the acting guardian of the island, Shorekeeper deemed it best to adjust the dosage at her own discretion.
Consuming the dosage for this round of trials hardly affected her.
And so, when little ones crowded around her, Shorekeeper administered the “trial formulation” for the day.
The placebo tasted the same to the children anyway.
Like second nature, she reaffirmed the calculations. The deterioration should slow at least by half if she managed to withhold the dosage for the day after.
As for results, Shorekeeper was most adept at simulated data collection.
It would be simple enough to increase the expected lifespan by 10 years.
And if she can grant ten, then surely she could grant twenty.
Just enough for the children to live fulfilling lives.
For them to leave this island.
To achieve their dreams far away from this laboratory.
“Miss Butterfly!”
Happy, cheerful voices of children called.
A designation Shorekeeper did not recognize.
Still, she did not correct them.
Yes, this will be enough.
————————————
PUNK HAZARD – [TETHYS CORE DATA LOG: CYCLE 009]
Ceased submitting full reports.
Miss Monet no longer reviews complete data; Brief summaries suffice.
The subjects have stabilized.
Trial formulations have been delayed for half a cycle.
No test results are changed beyond a margin of acceptable error.
Efficiency made human oversight unnecessary.
Master has not noticed.
————————————
PUNK HAZARD — OBSERVATION LEVEL
Shorekeeper hovered through the secured sliding doors, posture upright as ever, but slowed by the cluster of small hands tugging at her, more still reaching closer.
Law had come to see the extent of Caesar’s so-called “breakthrough”, now doubting the accuracy of any of it.
A crowd of children followed her, calling out between half-sobs and whines.
Rather energetic for subjects on such a destructive regimen.
“Nooo, don’t go yet—”
“Can’t you stay longer Miss Butterfly?”
One of the smaller children pressed a candy wrapper against her ear like a flower.
Law’s eyes narrowed slightly—the little hand was steady, fingers relaxed but maintained precise motor control.
No tremors.
Shorekeeper didn’t push them away. Instead, she let the kids press closer and held her balance — floating just enough to not drag them along when she finally moved.
No commands. No protocol. Just… presence.
They’d called her something then. A name, not a title.
“Miss Butterfly.”
Eventually, Shorekeeper pried herself away with practiced care. When the door slid shut behind her, the children's voices dulled to muffled background noise.
He had observed the interaction for a while. The manic clown had mentioned earlier, rambling with glee about an “unexpected boost” in aggression data. Something about the latest formulations “taking hold beautifully.”
But Law saw no signs of that. If anything, the children seemed fine, if a tad clingy to Miss Butterfly.
He’d reviewed the projected side effects for the so-called “breakthrough dosage.” None of them matched what he’d just seen.
Bright eyes. Steady movements. Not a trace of the expected tremors or cognitive fog.
According to Caesar, the children were on a course of newly modified formulation for months.
Yet some of them looked… healthier than they should.
Too healthy.
Someone was altering the dosage. Quietly. Precisely.
And not for Caesar’s benefit.
The clown certainly wouldn't falsify his own results. Monet was in charge of the paraplegic chimera groups and lacked motive.
Which left only one person with the access — and the subtlety — to do so.
She noticed him a moment later. Whether she’d known he was waiting or simply registered him on arrival, he couldn’t say — but she adjusted course immediately, floating toward him with her usual wordless calm.
“Seems they like you, Miss Butterfly.”
A measured incision — precise, cautious.
A test stroke across unbroken skin.
She tilted her head slightly at the name.
Not correcting him.
Not acknowledging it either.
Just obeying — or choosing to.
An obedient assistant — a humanoid with a floating gait, too smooth to be natural.
Built to follow Caesar’s experiments through.
A tool.
But tools didn’t lie with that much precision.
She wasn’t following orders.
She was choosing how to obey.
That made her a variable.
Unpredictable.
And, he supposed, made her worth watching a while longer.
Caesar thinks he built a tool.
But tools don’t make choices.
It’s worth observing further — to see how deep Miss Butterfly will cut.
Nyx walked through what appeared to be a city. A fantasy city by the looks of it, looking like some of the old buildings in Asia. The goddess walked around the streets as she looked up at the city skyline.
