o10 → accidental voice.
From the day I made that promise, I knew I had the duty to...
[ A distinct trailing off. There may be one more second, two, of murmuring and fumbling with the device, but the above portion is then promptly deleted. Several minutes later, in its place: ]
( private || hackable with moderate skill )
[ A distinct trailing off. There may be one more second, two, of murmuring and fumbling with the device, but the above portion is then promptly deleted. Several minutes later, in its place: ]
( private || hackable with moderate skill )
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Well, it's too bad he couldn't stay away, but--
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Where are you, Tieria? Can you describe your surroundings?
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There's no point in speaking to a fabrication any longer.
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Unless I ascertain its location, that remains the most likely possibility.
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Look around, Tieria. What do you see?
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A fountain. And, a ticking -
[ Is progressively clicking around ancient network ]
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Lockon emerges into the square, headed for what looks like the most deserted area around the fountain. If Tieria is hearing the ticking, there can't be many people around where he is.
And there he is. No point in hiding, but at least now that he's here he should be able to use his presence as comfort and support.
He slows slightly as he approaches. ]
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He would have once (and had) taken more preemptive action, demanded the exits that should logically exist, but this was when a clear mission lay on the other side. No matter the odds. As of now, he does nothing more than fix an absent stare at the improbabilities presented with this virtual guide, fully expecting to blink or breathe and leave whatever escape his mind constructed for him.
What he definitely doesn't expect is the decline in ticking, or what greets him upon turning his head. Finally rising up, somewhat frozen in place by his own inability to process it all. ]
This isn't possible...
[ Never mind that, he needs this too much, and therefore -- ]
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(And, fleetingly, he is grateful for the chance to find out that the City has given him. It's brief.)
Lockon quickens his pace again as Tieria rises. He's not sure why; maybe he worries that Tieria will panic if he doesn't have concrete reassurance soon? Nevertheless, in a few seconds Lockon is at his side and reaching out a hand to grab him by the shoulder and steady him. ]
You'll get used to it. You did last time.
I see you've got a guide.
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Even so, it offers minimal explanation -
[ But again, Tieria falters. Why does he continue doing that? An observation, though: The more he accepts this and the less he desperately tries clinging to rationalization in spite of himself, the more knowledge begins fitting back into place. Like a program reinstalling. Lockon can be trusted. Unless it pertains to his own life, at any rate.
Speaking of which. ]
I need to make an assessment, Lockon.
[ Explaining (perhaps excusing) himself before the fact, because he reaches a careful hand up, clinical, to find whether a pulse registers. Whether there's body heat that cannot be felt through the glove. ]
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He knows, in any case, that he can offer some comfort just by being there. And maybe he can jumpstart a memory or two. ]
An assessment? You can always ask, but--
[ And even as he speaks he's thinking, He wouldn't have said that before, he would just have done whatever he's going to do--
He blinks.
Lockon hasn't touched many people, skin to skin, since coming to the City. There are curses, but not even that many of them, but otherwise it's rare. He's not especially unhappy about that, either. It's a little alarming how perpetually fevered most people here feel to him, even though he knows that it's not that they're too hot, it's that he's too cold.
So he's not really used to it. He starts slightly at Tieria's hand on his throat. Then he glances down. ]Yeah. I'm sorry, ( ... )
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