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clever-fox-studios · 2 months

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Chapter 7

The breadth of knowledge that Sun found himself lacking was far more vast and profound than he ever imagined. In merely a shake of the day–-or roughly 100 minutes to anyone not on Adir Standard Time–-he’d been introduced to no less than twenty different variations of wild grass, four edible roots, and six ‘trust me, don’t touch it’ varieties of leaf and flower that he’d never heard of, let alone seen before. Jenn was more than willing to explain each of them with enough prodding, he found, though he felt just a bit guilty about regularly pinging Moon with a distance reading to enable his brother’s paranoid snooping. Despite this, he found himself to be enjoying the outing.

It was fun !

Just as well, it was a chance to try and understand the odd human just a bit more without Moon breathing down his neck with words of caution. I love you dearly, my brother, but there are days, he thought to himself with a touch of shame for being harsh, even if it was just to himself. Though I’m not helping I suppose…

Sun sighed.

“You alright?” Jenn lifted her head from the shrub she was picking through, wiping her brow with the back of the glove on her organic arm.

He hadn’t realized he’d made a sound. “Oh! Yes!” Quickly, he picked his way over the tangle of roots and dirt, amused at how it felt like steps to a bizarre dance at times with how he had to maneuver to avoid stepping on something unsavory.

“Not bored?”

“Never!” Crouching, gangly legs splayed to avoid hitting anything, he peered at the mass of puffy leaves she tended to while doing a binocular comparison–-one eye was focused on the shape and color of the vegetation, the other analyzing his store of information for direct comparison until it found a match. Often this was a feature used for color-correcting or aligning cut patterns of paper and fabric but it worked fantastically for identifying plants and berries–-delightful! This one didn’t have a match yet; he smiled. “What’s this one?”

Carefully, Jenn pulled a tangle of leaves from the bush, the ‘branch’ unfurling into a long vine-like wisp heavy with fat, round leaves that had a grayish tint on them. She coiled the base of the vine around her mechanical fingers and ran it through her hand, the bulbs popping free without a hint of resistance to fall into the basket beneath her. The air smelled of clean linen and spring water suddenly. “Soap leaves,” she answered once the harvest was stashed, a woven mat placed over the top of them within the basket to keep them separate from other collectibles. “They’re super convenient and grow just about everywhere; when they're ready to use, they get that silvery color on their skin. You can peel them, juice ‘em, crush them in your hand–-they lather up with water and make you smell super clean. Great natural deodorant.”

“Deodorant?”

She had a wry grin on her ace. “You might not sweat or smell but we humans tend to have funny odors after a long day of work.”

“Oh? I’ve never noticed.” Most of high society did their best to be presentable at all times, though he vaguely wondered if too much perfume counted as body odor. Nevermind the fact he could simply disengage one of his senses whenever it became overwhelming.

“Lucky.” Standing up, Jenn gathered the materials she’d removed from the basket and gently placed them back inside: woven mats that acted as separators, a small kit of pruning tools, a smaller pack of ointment and bandages, plus a handful of other random things had been stored inside the large carrying basket until needed. Whenever Jenn wanted to harvest something, she set the basket down, pulled the tools out, took a bit of what she needed, then put the tools back, always careful to not throw or drop anything. Sometimes, Sun thought, he would hear her humming but never loud enough for him to point it out.

Rising gracefully, Sun placed his hands under the basket as she lifted it up, reflexively trying to assist though she didn’t need it. After four attempts where he couldn’t stop himself, she’d given up trying to correct him and simply allowed it, the basket creaking under its growing weight as she used her head and neck to support it through the underbrush. It seemed dangerous to do too often, but the gold robot wasn’t nearly brave enough to tell her that for fear of running out her patience with him. How she hadn’t yet was a gift he wasn’t intending to look in the mouth. “So, um…” Jenn turned her head slightly to indicate she heard him, her step never breaking as they rounded a stand of trees. “All of this… foraging? Do you do this every day?”

She rose up a few inches while stepping onto a particularly large root, then dropped back down; Sun was able to stride over it fairly easily with his long legs, clearing it like a balance beam. “Well, sort of. Harvesting every day is bad for the plants, but I don’t clear them off when I need them cuz that’s wasteful. I just keep track of what I need and know where to find it and collect only that much. This area is consistently temperate so the plants stay in bloom year-round as long as the aurora cooperates.”

“That must be extremely convenient!”

“It is.” The trees ended abruptly, breaking onto a stretch of sand and grass along a small lake. Sun stopped, awestruck at the vision of the aurora reflecting in the water, barely realizing Jenn was still walking until she started talking again. “It’s why I stayed here to build my base.”

Blinking hard to snap out of his gawking, Sun trotted up to shrink the distance between them. “You–-you built this place? Alone?”

She shrugged, gazing at the water for a moment in thought. “Salvaged, if you want to get technical. It was gutted and falling apart when I found it but the basic house structure was already there. I patched it up in my spare time, moved in and stayed put.”

“That’s… incredible!”

A humorous laugh escaped her. “I mean, sure? I guess? Dragged thing still leaks like a–-” Jenn paused for just a moment to avoid cursing unnecessarily, aware her tag-along didn't seem to care for it. “Like an old boat when it rains but it’s home.”

Jenn slowed to a stop, gaze on the treeline ahead of them, which allowed Sun to fully catch up without having to hurry, hoping to keep the discussion going. Moon would be pleased with any information he got, surely! “How long have-–”

“Sh.”

Sun froze completely at the chaste sound, feeling a bit of panic well up inside that made his rays retract slightly. Had he upset her? Was she going to chastise him? Or worse-–?

Slowly, Jenn placed the basket down at the foot of a tree and rolled the front of her skirt up, using the back panel as a belt to tie and tuck it out of the way. With eerie silence and a half crouch, she slipped into the underbrush along the tree line, the green and brown colors of her clothes blending her into the leaves and dirt just enough to make her hard to keep track of. The panic Sun felt shifted immediately from worry for upsetting her to raw survival. Something was in the forest with them.

Was he supposed to follow? She hadn’t said-–was it a trap?? Would he be left to fend for himself??

A branch snapped somewhere.

It took everything in his system to withhold the shriek he wanted to let out, hands covering his mouth to block the sound from escaping.

Locked.

Moon scowled, sliding his hand up and down the door to look for any secret hinge or panel to press that would open it without the passcode. No such luck. Fingers drumming on the metal door for a moment, he huffed and rose, feeling along the seams of the frame.

Nothing.

A tip-tap got him to turn, only slightly surprised to find Rukbat staring at him curiously, wrong ear flopping at the tip as he titled his copper brown head as if to say ‘what’cha doin’?’ Putting his hand to his hips, Moon considered the fact that he could be getting spied on with the canine present, but couldn’t be mad about it. It was simply doing as it should by guarding its mistress’s secrets from nosey visitors.

“I don’t suppose you can let me in, can you?” he wondered, not expecting an answer. Why was he even talking to this thing?

Rukbat whined.

“Didn’t think so.” Backing up from the door, Moon turned on his heel and began to walk away, listening for footsteps. When none came by the time he got down to the yard, the navy snoop looked up to the part of the patio still visible from where he stood, seeing the canine’s head poking out from between the rails. After a moment, Rukbat slid back and turned, out of sight. Moving to try and see up more, Moon could just barely make out the tops of the doors the Sirius was next to, the ones he’d just come from.

One led to the kitchen, he knew that already after seeing it at breakfast, but the other one beside it was sealed tight with no other doors that he could find. Whatever it guarded was a part of the house he had yet to see, and with her warning about locked doors he had to assume it was a private area. A bedroom, or perhaps a study? Something that may have answers for him.

Rukbat’s nails tapped the patio as it wandered out of sight, then scratched on something. A rush of air–-Moon squinted, seeing the sliver of the locked door vanish for a moment. What?! Hurrying, he stomped up the steps, three at a time, sliding into the rail as he circled back to the set of doors, disbelieving.

They were shut.

With a quick check, he found it the same as a moment ago: no handle, no panel, still in need of a wireless access code. “Draggit-–” he hissed, hitting the rail with his hand. Did… I just get punked by a dog ? Drumming his fingers once more, Moon made an annoyed sound in his throat, both impressed and embarrassed.

He was not telling Sun about that.

Changing objectives to try and salvage his dignity, Moon made his way to the lounge, intending to comb through the papers and notes strewn about. She was so eager for that binder in here, maybe there’s something else? Jenn had gotten short with them after their sit-down in the grass, her eyes darting about as if looking for or avoiding something. In an unexpected burst of speed, she’d gotten ahead of them on the way inside, which prompted Moon to follow quickly to figure out what she was doing. They’d nearly collided as she ducked out of the lounge, a massive, black binder full of laminated paper breaking their contact with a whump .

That thing was dense.

She’d slid off to the side, telling them to relax without another peep on their situation, and escaped before he could stop her, locking herself in the white container–-

Moon stopped shifting through papers–-something about the practical uses of a wood fungus native to the boglands miles from here-–as he pondered over the white block of metal under the patio. The human had already brought equipment out of it once and managed to spend an entire resting time locked inside doing something or other that put her in a good mood. It couldn’t be a storage shed, could it?

Idiot.

Dropping the paper, Moon left quickly, hopping the railings with practiced grace to land as lightly as he could on the lawn. Unsurprisingly, the white block was sealed tight, just like the door, but he had time to burn. Starting at the front, Moon began to systematically search for cracks or wires across the outer wall, maybe an emergency key or passcode hint scribbled somewhere that went unnoticed. Humans often had odd habits like that so he hoped this human was just odd enough to be prone to the same silly idea.

He looked and looked–-right up until the panic set in suddenly, nearly knocking him prone with dizziness. Not his own panic however.

Sun’s.

Crack.

Sun took a quick step back, feeling his gears and wires screeching again-– run.

RUN!

Something creaked–-he turned to the motion above his head, hands trembling. Burning.

He could defend himself.

He could–-

In a lithe motion, Jenn swung herself from the creaking branch and landed on the balls of her feet, knees bent to disperse the impact and muffle the sound of her return. Before he could even process what was happening, Sun was silenced by her finger at her mouth, staving off his attempt to ask anything; baffled, he crept over when she waved, keeping low as she led him into the trees.

I’m dead, he frantically chanted, Moon was right, she’s crazy, I’m dead.

Her hand came out and he stilled, watching her movements with every scrap of focus he could muster beyond his confusion and panic. It was remarkable how quiet she could be when climbing, easing herself into the tree overhead, eyes on something beyond the wall of shrubbery that carpeted the forest floor. It got more bizarre when she looked down and pointed to her head, making some sort of gesture it took a moment for him to decipher.

My rays? Hide… hide my rays?

Uncertain, he shut off the process that controlled the haptic array, withdrawing the light spokes into the seam of his head. It was darker than he thought without them. He didn't like it.

Motioning again, Jenn indicated he should move to the space below the branch, just beyond the bushes. Nervously, he did so, sending one last location ping to his brother so he could have hope some part of him would be recovered. Being silent in the overgrowth was quite a task with his long frame, but Sun managed well enough not to get hushed again, crouching between the roots of the gnarled blue-wood tree Jenn was perched in. Maybe if he were quick enough he could jump-–

Finger to her lips once more, Jenn slowly pointed, splayed out on her belly across the arm of the great tree to minimize herself. Staring into her eyes for a moment and seeing no ill intent–-he hoped-–the golden bot turned his head so very carefully, bracing for something awful.

His exhaust cycle paused.

Through the leaves of the canopy, the aurora’s light took on far more colors than it usually had, all flickering as the trees shifted in unseen winds. Greens and blues and oranges taken from leaves and flowers danced through the air on the way to the ground, bugs humming curious tunes to each other that filled the forest with its own unique heartbeat. None of that mattered so much, though, compared to the massive creature standing between the trees; almost as tall at the head as he was when standing, with a furry pelt a shade of blue usually reserved for deep water, the creature grazed idly, unbothered by anything going on around it at that moment. Great, curling antlers of sapphire and diamond dust twisted over its head, catching the light from the falling leaves in such a way, Sun felt he would cry if he could. It turned slightly, chewing-–the dark eyes of the beast found him.

He froze.

The animal-–a great stag of sorts–-grunted, nose flaring. Only then did another head appear behind it, ears pivoting at the sound. Sun counted three of them as he waited to see if they would charge or flee, one without a curling crown of gems and another much smaller one, hiding between their legs. It was with awe and joy that he realized it was a family.

Suddenly, all three lifted their heads, ears rotating to one direction collectively as they stood stock still. The male grunted again, shaking his great neck; light seeped up through the curls and points of its crown, a blinding flash making Sun look away for a moment. When it cleared, the deer had fled, the trees thumping and shaking under their hooves as they disappeared into the depths of the wood. Such an interesting survival tactic!

“SUN!”

Faintly, the familiar voice of his brother caught his ear, somewhere back where he’d just come from. Getting up from his vantage point, the gangly bot moved back through the shrubbery to the lakeside, his radials fluttering to their rightful place–-not two seconds later, Moon’s footfalls thundered to him as he broke cover, bare feet sliding to a stop on the lush grass and sand. “Sun!” he repeated with some relief, his pulse points flashing and fading from his distress. Before his brother could answer, Moon had hold of his shoulders, looking him over. “Are you alright? What happened??”

Sun wobbled as he was turned by Moon’s frantic examination of his person. Catching himself before he could fall, Sun gently clasped the dark robot’s hands between his to try to assure the worrywart he was fine–-but hesitated, grin faltering slightly on his face as the desire to tell Moon what happened caught in his voice box. In a fraction of a second, Sun changed his answer. “I-I’m fine! I…”

A thump in the grass nearby revealed Jenn emerging from the forest, dusting herself off and fixing her skirt to hang like it should, a piece of underbrush being plucked off absently. The pair acknowledged her appearance with a glance, forcing Sun to interject before she said anything.

“There you are!”

Jenn looked up from her dusting, brow creased for a moment, seeing the tight expression on the golden bot and the annoyed one of the blue jerk.

Placing his hand on Moon’s shoulder, Sun went on, “I’m sorry, Moon, I got separated and lost sight of Jenn. I… didn’t mean to worry you.”

OH! Jenn realized with a start, finishing her realignment of her clothes after the tree messed them up to buy time to cover her reaction. “I didn’t think it would be so easy to lose you in the woods, bright eyes. A seven-foot-tall Sunrise with a halo on his head should be pretty easy to keep track of.”

“I’m sorry,” Sun reiterated, folding his hands together apologetically. “I got distracted and then you were gone and this forest is a lot bigger than…” Glancing to the side, Sun saw the wary glint in Moon’s yellow eyes. “Than the yard… um, there’s a… distinct lack of fences out here!” Moon sighed at his prattling.

“There’s a lack of a lot of things out here,” the human agreed, playing off the situation with the plain casualness they’d come to expect from her at this point. She hefted the basket up to its position on her head with a slight grunt.

Unwilling to expend more energy into dissecting the conversation, Moon closed his eyes for a moment and forced himself to let it go. “I think,” he started, half through his teeth, “that’s enough for today, don’t you think?”

“Oh?” Sun chirped, not wanting that to be the case.

“I mean, I’m not done yet but if you want to go back you can.” Walking past them both, Jenn idly pointed through the trees toward the house, heading to a completely different area of the forest without a glance back.

“Wait!” Sun blurted, taking a step after her before Moon grabbed hold of his wrist, forcing him to stop. Silently, the two prodded each other through their Lock, each trying to convince the other to go the way they wanted; Moon’s eyes flicked toward the house, wanting to discuss things privately, but Sun turned his cheek to indicate following Jenn, as he wanted to keep learning and familiarize himself with the land around the house. It was a stalemate between them for some seconds until Jenn coughed to get their attention.

She’d paused at the treeline and waited, as asked, but she seemed put off by their refusal to follow, her gaze dull, mouth turned in a frown. “Well?”

Taking the moment to change his grip on Sun, Moon tugged, bringing his brother back a step. “I think that’s enough excitement for right now,” he claimed firmly. “Let’s go back, Sun.”

“He’s fine,” she quipped dismissively. “It’s not like he got hurt or anything.”

“That’s not the point.” Moon took his own step toward the house, pulling Sun off balance slightly as he did so the golden robot would stumble after him. “It’s been long enough for our first day.”

“Give him some credit.” Jenn turned her body to face them fully, her stance changing subtly as she moved from one foot to the other. Moon felt his inner coils tense in anticipation, something in her movements forcing an alert in the backmost part of his mind, as if preparing for a fight. “He’s picking up on foraging incredibly fast and wants to keep going. Since he’s not hurt and his battery is full, I think he can choose to stay out if he really wants to.”

“And Sun has a bad habit of being an overachiever who doesn’t know when to quit,” Moon pressed, looking at his brother whose gaze dropped to the ground, knowing it was true. “It’s the first day,” he added, a bit gentler as he saw his brother wilt slightly. “There’ll be time to learn more later.”

As much as he wanted to fight, to speak up for himself, the weight of his lie and the worry in Moon’s voice stripped Sun of the energy to do so in moments, leaving only the ability to placate them both with an answer. “You might be right, Moon,” he agreed quietly, stepping closer to his brother of his own volition.

“Alright then.” Shrugging, Jenn turned and disappeared into the trees without further argument, leaving them to find their way to the house alone.

Sun allowed himself to be tugged back to the familiarity of the yard, unable to bring himself to even look at Moon’s back. There was a wrongness in the air between them, a wall that shouldn’t be there-–he’d put it there by lying, he felt. Lying to spare Moon’s feelings-–to stop him from having more reason to unfairly hate the human that was keeping them safe-–or perhaps lying just to make himself feel better. More capable. In fractions of a second, Sun had chosen to lie about his willingness to follow the strange human into the forest because he thought it would cause Moon more stress and provoke a fight.

How tired he was of fighting already.

Moon was already so strung out and he was being foolish, careless with his safety and choices which were making it even harder on them both. With regret, Sun recalled how easily he’d cracked under the pressure just recently and how Moon stopped everything to ensure he was alright. The fatigue that set in had been all-consuming and heavy, dragging him into sleep without even an attempt to fight it. If that had been his feelings, Sun could scarcely imagine what the stress was doing to his beloved brother under the surface, beyond where their Lock could reach. Feelings that made Moon tense and angry and mistrustful, hardly what he knew his brother to be capable of-–or had been at least.

Before, Moon was a calming presence, laid back and hard to bother with most things. Sun recalled how much he appreciated the gentle presence of Moon after an event or an ordeal, always there, never stressing the details if Sun wouldn’t share them. A snappy joke and steady hand at his back could help him relax from anything that happened within the walls of the estate, but somewhere along the way, Sun found changes. Worried looks, concerned squeezes, fewer musings in the halls where ears couldn’t hear them-–at some point, the stress had begun to eat away at Moon long before now. It was just far worse recently. More obvious.

Sun knew it was his fault.

I should be doing better, he told himself as they finally reached the grassy swath of the yard, Moon’s grip on him loosening. I will do better. Before he could slip away too far, Sun quickly stepped forward, grabbing his brother in a tight hug that caught the navy-and-night hued robot off guard. “I’m sorry,” the golden half of the pair croaked, radials fluttering. “I didn’t… mean to worry you.”

After a second, Moon melted, his anger washing away at the worry and regret in his brother’s voice. Gently, he wrapped his arms around the lanky bot and held tight, clearing his mind before he could reply. “I know you didn’t.” Pulling back, Moon held his brother’s shoulders carefully, meeting his teal irises with concern and authority. “This is not a place to play, Sun. I know you’re excited to get out and I appreciate you keeping her occupied so I can look around but you need to remember this isn’t the backyard and not a vacation. We don’t know what’s out there and I don’t want you getting overwhelmed in your excitement when I’m not there to help you.”

The reflex to argue he’d be fine came and went as Sun held it in, only nodding as Moon was right to an extent. There was so much to do and learn and see, and he’d been so understimulated for so long the chance of his system going into a critical shutdown wasn’t impossible. Just another thing Sun hadn’t considered that was worrying his brother needlessly.

Carefully, Moon pulled Sun’s head down, their foreheads touching softly as they both calmed themselves, trying to strengthen their Lock against the wear and tear of their mutual stress. Moon hoped Sun would understand that this situation needed to be taken seriously and handled with care; Sun promised to them both he would be more careful, though more to himself than Moon. If he tried hard enough, he could manage his stress and his behaviors so Moon would have one less thing to worry about. It was the least he could do, Sun felt, having already caused enough problems simply by being himself and having no self control.

“You’re alright?” Moon’s voice was quiet.

“I am,” Sun replied just as quietly. “Did… you find anything?”

Sighing, Moon pulled back and turned, seeming annoyed. “No. The door locks are wireless and I don’t know the code so I couldn’t get in anywhere.”

“Oh…” Sun rubbed his neck. “Well… there’s time, I suppose? Maybe Jenn will… maybe I can ask to go out again tomorrow?”

Moon flopped into the grass, sitting back in a way that faintly reminded Sun of the old, relaxed Moon he remembered. “Think she will?”

“Maybe?” Following suit, Sun folded his legs and dropped lightly, leaning on one arm. “It took a bit but after I asked enough questions, Jenn seemed to open up and was happy to explain. Maybe if I ask for more, she’ll go out to tell me?”

Brow raised, Moon wondered, “She didn’t get annoyed?”

Sun shrugged. “If she did, she kept it to herself. At first I thought I was just bad at asking questions–-”

“Doubtful,” Moon cut in jokingly, earning a faint smile from Sun.

“--but then it felt more like…” His hand waved a bit as he searched for the words to use. “Like she was being short on purpose. I almost gave up on it entirely until she slipped up talking about sweetleaf.”

“Isn’t that what sugar is made of?”

Nodding, Sun skimmed the file he’d made on the plant quickly. “Apparently it grows all over the place if the orbura tree is around.”

“The what?”

Reaching up, Sun began to gesture, excitement growing. “Those big blueish trees with the leaves that have fuzzy, gray undersides?” Moon nodded, knowing the ones Sun meant. They were common decorations around E’rta, visible on most corners from the windows of the estate. “So apparently that gray fuzz forms from extra sugars in the tree being stored for later use, but when the leaves fall the sugar doesn’t go anywhere. Sweetleaf grows where the sugary leaves collect to recycle the excess so it doesn’t go to waste; when they die, the tree reabsorbs the sugar from the soil and starts it over, like a recycling system.”

Moon stared, baffled. “You learned that while looking for food?”

Nodding more enthusiastically, Sun’s smile broke through genuinely. “I didn’t even know sweetleaf made sugar sweetener–-well, I did but not how or that it’s not even the thing making the sweet part itself! Jenn was collecting some and I asked what it was, and at first it was a short answer like before but after I asked how to turn it into sweetener–-oh! That container!” Pointing to the house, Moon jumped a bit as Sun grew more excited. “That’s all made by Jenn!”

“Huh,” Moon mused, resting his elbows on his knees while waiting for Sun to continue, glad the abrasive mood seemed to be passing.

“She told me how to process it in a double boiler and how it grows under the trees–-but then she kind of stopped.”

“Stopped?”

Now concerned as he recalled his day more clearly, Sun mumbled a bit. “It was like she realized she was talking too much and just... Quit. I feel like maybe she’s used to not sharing things with others.”

No surprise there. A tad bitterly, Moon huffed, rolling his eyes. Sun was still going on about something but he couldn’t help his thoughts straying to his own day and how comparatively lacking it was in results. Nevermind the fact he was still outwitted by a Sirius of all things. Pathetic, he told himself, barely noticing his brother mention something or other about the forest and the colors of the light through the trees. If he wanted to soothe his bruised ego, he’d need another chance to learn something worth sharing. For that, he’d need another chance to explore. Catching a lull in the conversation, Moon decided to interject, “If you’ve gotten this much out of just one day, then I’d say it’s worth trying again tomorrow. Or later, even.”

Sun paused, feeling a bit happy that Moon thought his info dump was worthwhile. “You think so?”

“We’ll need as much as we can get if we’re going to be on our own eventually.”

On our own.

The words were heavy and incomprehensibly sticky, attaching to everything Sun had shared thus far and managing to drag them out of the levity and excitement of learning something new down to the echoing, muted cavern of worry he’d been desperate to stay out of the entire time. There, it stayed, thick and cold. Despite knowing it somewhere deep inside, Sun couldn’t help the gear-wrenching anxiety the idea of being alone gave him, even if it was alone with Moon, which was simply normal and expected. However, no matter how used to being with Moon he was, Sun was also used to rarely being isolated indefinitely from outside contact. Hired hands were around every corner, gatherings were frequent enough to be part of the weekly schedule, visitors were few but frequent in between-–brief periods of them being alone were rare. Now, being expected to have it as the default brought dread into his system.

Likely to do with his programming which was made specifically to be around and entertain guests, encouraging him to seek human interaction as a priority, Sun pushed back on it, unwilling to sabotage himself or his brother with confusing feelings of duty and purpose that he wasn’t completely sure were his own. Fighting one’s own ingrained sense of self was horrid, itchy and wrong, full of dust almost that clouded one’s train of thought into senseless background screeching.

It didn’t matter what he thought he wanted. What they needed was to fix the mistake he made by being a coward and get as far away from that woman as possible. Maybe one day the wrongness would go away, or fade into little more than a mild grievance in the deepest corner of his mind.

Maybe one day he would know if it was his own desire to be in human company that begged him to stay in this odd house in the jungle, or if it was simply the result of programming forced onto him from before he ever came online the first time.

A lot of life was dark. Or it felt that way so far to the pair who stood patiently in the atrium, only their eyes alight in the dimness. ‘Keep your radials down’ the Sunrise had been told, as they would draw too much attention otherwise and ruin the surprise. The inner flurry of codes and systems inside him buzzed excitedly to finally be allowed to fulfill his purpose after the long journey from the facility; he so wanted to reach out through the dark and take hold of the other unit standing nearby, to remind himself he wasn’t alone in this chamber, but he couldn’t.

Wait, they were told.

The yellow glint in the dark was enough for now, he told himself. The other unit–-Moondrop, his Tidally Locked partner-–was there with him, just as quiet and, if his inner hum meant anything, just as eager. They were never far from each other, not in the short time they’d been active, so there was no reason to believe now was any different. It was even dark, like the first time they became aware of each other...

***

Coming online for the first time was a slow process; awareness of one’s limbs always came before any sense of space or outside assessment. File after file opened and ran in quick succession, demanding fingers and toes be moved, passive processes being read for anomalies, systems cycled through checkmark after checkmark to ensure they cooperated properly. Somewhere between this initial calibration and wanting to open his eyes, something else rippled through like an echo.

Sunrise.

That was him! A sunrise. A star.

Happiness flashed in his system at knowing himself. A tickle followed his elation, some quiet repetition of his joy that felt just a bit different. Feeling that extra nudge of emotion took his attention from his waking process for just a moment, drawing him deeper into himself. What was it? He wanted to know! Mustering the sensation as best he could, Sunrise urged his emotional code to run again; the echo answered faintly, bringing another wave of happiness that it mirrored. Each pass made Sunrise want to skip and laugh! To stay in this place with the little echo of his own happiness forever!

“Hello?”

Startled by the feeling of his own voice, Sunrise waited for the echo to respond. For a long moment, there was nothing. Fretting he’d scared it off, the robot tried to summon his joy again, to share it into the void and see if that brought an answer–-but he couldn’t. Afraid that his echo had vanished had left him empty, too much to be able to express that fleeting feeling of light and positivity.

Then it answered.

“It’s alright.”

The echo sounded nothing like him, to his surprise. While his own voice was high and light, with clear notes that felt like they could reach deep into the darkness and find the edges easily, this one was lower, soft but creaky as if someone had just woken up.

“I’m here.”

Sunrise peered around, unsure where ‘here’ was. “Where?”

“Next to you.”

There was no one, though. Pulling himself from the deep depths of himself, Sunrise reeled as his systems continued their processes around him–-breathing, cycling, flexing–-but he found what he felt he needed by clinging to his dexterity processes. Just enough to move his fingers. Turn his hand.

A cool sensation flickered through his system check, his hand coming into contact with something outside of himself that was not part of the flurry of self-diagnostics he was dealing with. The feeling grew as the thing also moved, his fingers being laced into something firm and, inexplicably, familiar.

“Is that you?” Sunrise wondered, not fully expecting an answer.

One still came though, more of an impression than true words. “Yes.”

Joy washed through him again. He wanted these checks to finish so he could wake up! “I’m Sunrise!” he cheered, squeezing the cool thing between his fingers.

The pressure matched his as his hand was squeezed back. While the feelings weren’t as intensely directed as his, Sunrise still knew this echo was as pleased as he felt. “I’m Moondrop,” they replied. “I’m your brother.”

Since then, they hadn’t been apart, even when the lights went off and they were told to conduct a sleep cycle. Moondrop was there, only an arm’s length away.

But this time, they’d been told not to cling to each other, to stand presentably and behave.

Sunrise trusted in the familiar, yellow eyes of his brother that he was there, within reach in the dark, and he would still be there when the light returned and they finally got to meet their mistress. Finally, they could dance. Bring her joy. Sate this nagging urge to be with a human, at their side to make their life more colorful!

He was so excited he could hardly contain himself!

The tension had mostly gone during their chat and Sun wasn’t going to risk it coming back due to his own misplaced feelings, so he kept it to himself, shoving it as far back as he could into his mind. The outside air was pleasant at least, a balmy temperature without a lot of humidity to seep into the joints and make them squeak. Quietly, the pair of robots sat and tried to enjoy this feeling of wavering peace they were afforded amidst the tension that stalked their every movement like a scavenger waiting for one to fall so they could be consumed. Because of this quiet, they could hear the bugs and grass hum on the wind, the birds tweet and whistle in the trees–-

“Do you hear that?” Moon asked suddenly, glancing around slowly.

“The voice? Yeah, I do,” Sun replied, equally confused.

Just above the wind, they both swore there was a trill of music. Wordless, keening and distant, but there nonetheless, slowly getting clearer as it went. Getting… closer?

Moon was up in a blink, hands balled into fists as he strained to hear which direction it was coming from-–to no avail, the forest managing to mangle the source of the sound between the trees so it was impossible to know for sure where it was coming from. Hunched against the grass, Sun struggled to make out any words within the reverberation, leaving him unsure if it was an aria or a language he couldn’t decipher clearly. Whatever it was, it was beautiful but chilling to not know who or what was making it.

Though there was one possibility.

Suddenly, the sound stopped, leaving them more baffled than when it had started. A minute passed before the bushes rustled, Jenn and her basket coming into view from the far end of the yard. Moon was on her before she’d even gotten to the stairs, eyes flashing. “Did you hear that just now?”

“Hear what?” she replied to him, a bit perturbed by his question. Her basket was distended with weight now, creaking as she put it down with a grunt; at her waist, her skirt was tied up oddly, stretched from whatever she had wrapped up in the hem. Sun found that quite clever of her, using her skirt like an extra hand to carry something; perhaps that was why she called them gathering clothes?

“You can’t tell me you didn’t hear a voice singing in the woods just now.”

Jenn’s eyes widened with concern for a moment before returning to normal. “No, I didn't, and neither did you.”

Moon glared. “Are you saying that because it was you?”

She stared back, just as hard. “I’m saying that because out in the wilds, if you think you hear something singing or talking out in the woods and you can’t immediately see who or what it is, then no you didn’t.”

“Excuse me?”

“Believe me when I say you don’t want to know.”

Well, that’s terrifying, Sun said to himself, coming up to them both before Moon could press the matter. “Do you need help?”

Gathering her laden skirt front in her arms, Jenn nodded at him, seeming to relax. “If you’re careful, you can bring the basket to the kitchen.”

“Sure!” Without hesitation, Sun stooped, grabbing the bottom and hefting–he grunted, surprised at the registered weight. Carrying this on her head can’t be good for her back! Taking a step, Sun followed politely behind Jenn, walking slowly so he wouldn’t drop or jostle the woven burden in his arms. Behind him, Moon took to the steps, keeping back so they wouldn’t collide by accident.

Thankfully he was there. Sun slightly misstepped at the edge of the next stair, his heel buckling as his balance shifted wrongly. Quickly, Moon held up his hands and pushed on Sun’s back to keep him from taking a tumble.

“Thank you!” Sun squeaked, his system surging with panic from the near fall.

“Of course,” Moon replied back distractedly. Something was off. “Are you sure you’re alright? You’re never this clumsy.”

“I just missed the stair,” Sun assured, though he also wondered briefly if there wasn’t some issue he hadn’t noticed in his balancing system. Perhaps there really was a good reason for Jenn to keep them there for a few days after all.

“Yeah, and you don’t do that.” Keeping his wits sharp, Moon watched his brother finish the climb without further incident, prepared for another catch should it be needed. “We’re not made to trip and fall.”

“I know, it’s… probably because I’m not used to the stairs here.”

“Mm-hm.” Unwilling to risk it, Moon took a deep breath and swallowed his pride, finding Jenn already in her kitchen putting away round roots from the folds of her skirt front. She turned her head to them and indicated the table for the basket, about to relay instructions for what to do with the contents when Moon cut her off, voice firmer than intended for asking a question. “Is it possible that storm could mess up a balancing system?”

“Huh?” The human stared for a moment, processing his question. Annoyed at having to repeat himself, she ended up answering before he could. “Oh, yeah, absolutely. Why?”

Moon glanced at Sun who looked at the floor.

Making a throaty sound of thought, Jenn put the last starchy tuber away, wiped her hands on her skirt and put them on her hips. “Let me guess.”

Sun groaned. “I’m sure it’s nothing, Moon!”

To his surprise, both Jenn and Moon managed to simultaneously bark, “Doubt it,” at him in the same tone before glaring at each other confusedly. Had it been anything else, Sun would find it funny, but instead it only took away his ability to get someone on his side as they seemed to agree just long enough to double down on there being a problem.

“Geo-magnetic anomalies can cause all kinds of things to happen in computer systems,” Jenn went on once she broke eye contact with Moon. “It’s why Task Managers–-you guys-–are made with magnetically inert metal parts where possible. The ones that can’t be though, usually up here-–” She pointed to her head. “--are still completely at the mercy of the aurora. Why do you think anomaly bunkers are a thing? Bots and modified humans that are sensitive to the activity need them so their systems don’t get fried.” Sun flinched a bit. “Honestly, if you didn’t have something wrong with you after your little trip through the atmosphere I’d be more surprised.”

She wouldn’t be, knowing full well if they didn’t suffer side effects beyond physical damage it was because they weren’t built like normal robots, likely reinforced against the effects of the magnetic anomaly. But there was no way she’d admit that freely right now.

“Can it be fixed?” Moon asked, trying to hide his worry after the last issue hit a dead end due to technical limitations.

“Oh, absolutely.”

The confidence of her voice caught Moon off guard, the tension leaving him faster than anticipated.

“Thankfully, I already know it’s not a hardware issue since-–” She gestured up and down at them. “Ya know. Been there, fixed that. If I had to guess, he’s just not calibrated properly anymore.”

Sun squeaked confusedly, head tilting. “Eh?”

“Being whipped around at mach-stupid with no sense of up or down tends to mess up anyone’s sense of direction. It’s likely self-corrected by now to a functional degree after walking around, but given you both have advanced gyros made for fancy dancy stuff–-” Moon scowled, “--it’s likely just out of tune. Best way to fix it is to just practice.”

“Oh!” That was a relief, Sun’s shoulders heaving with a sigh. “Not a problem then!”

Thinking for a moment, Moon inquired, “So why am I fine?”

Jenn shrugged after thinking. “Lucky I guess?”

“I’m never lucky.”

“Well, out here maybe you are. Now scoot.” Shooing at them, Jenn started to unpack her basket, sorting its contents from the top carefully to have reason to ignore further questions.

Ever the helpful one, Sun leaned over. “Can… we help?”

Pointing to the door, Jenn replied plainly, “Appreciated but maybe go work on that gyro thing if you want something to do.”

“Ah.” Perturbed by her change in mood, Sun stepped back, Moon at his side as they exited.

Under his breath, Moon hissed, “Rude,” but got shushed as they returned to the yard.

Side-eyeing them carefully, Jenn stopped her sorting once they were out of sight, just barely visible through the window as they descended the steps to the outside. That was awfully obedient of them, she pondered, rubbing her chin in thought. It might be nothing but if they’re only half awake then that’s a problem on its own. Leaning on the table, her eyes danced around the kitchen in time to her strings of thought.

Jenn knew full well why the anomaly didn’t mess with the Moondrop’s balancing system, but what got her more curious was the consistency with which he seemed to play dumb about it. It was reaching ‘beyond a shadow of a doubt’ territory that these two runaways absolutely did not know what they were, and that was deeply concerning. I tell myself not to mess around with this stuff anymore and yet there’s always something, isn’t there? she told herself bitterly. I need to get them as far away from their target area as possible before something happens. If they went rogue before their goal was achieved then there’s probably someone out there looking for them right now to finish it. If they don’t know their mission and ran off for their own reasons, as aware AI tends to do, then they also don’t know the conditions needed to fulfill their task. That’s bad. Very, very bad.

Hand over her mouth, Jenn reviewed her mental notes thoroughly, making a list of facts for herself.

One: They were not normal Task Managers. Not according to the component catalog she kept in the giant black binder in her lab.

Two: They did not know they were not normal. That for all intents and purposes, they should not exist as they do.

Three: She was not their objective. It simply didn’t make sense if she was.

And four: She couldn’t not help them. That wasn’t who she was.

If everything went well, there was a chance she could remove the problematic factors altogether and they would never know. A normal life was what they wanted, and she could give it to them. It was the right thing to do.

But they needed to trust her first.

#ao3 #free runner #dca #moondrop #sundrop #jenn&co #free runner sun #free runner moon #azil #creative writing

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ameagrice · 1 year

Text

Young Years

chapter three | not so bad after all

THE LAST OF US

tommy miller x fem reader

There’s a quiet in the morning, when Freddie still sleeps, giving you time where you can sit and think. Morning sun streams into the living room, and sitting in it warms you right to the bones.

Two days had passed since the movie night in town, and it was energising in a way you’d been missing since 2003. You’d dragged yourself out of bed this morning and forced yourself into the shower while Freddie slept. Standing in the bare bathroom in just a towel, brushing your teeth with the shitty toothbrush from back home, you took notice of the bare walls, and the dusty extractor fan. And something lit inside of you that hadn’t been lit for a while.

You let Freddie wake up while you got ready for the day in some random clothes stored in old bin bags up in the tiny attic space. Maybe the previous owners thought they’d be coming home, so they put them up there for safe storage. Whatever the reason, you thanked them, because despite the slight musty smell, they were all in amazing condition. Four full bags sat waiting for you, of men’s outfits (which you threw right to the back), women’s clothes (which took up two bags and was promptly dropped down to the ground at the bottom of the ladder) and a bag of boy’s clothes, just a bit too big in length for Freddie but also in good condition. You felt almost silly for smiling like you’d won the lottery as you sifted through them. The women’s pants were a size too big in width, but decent in length, so you felt they’d do. There were jackets in bright colours you hadn’t seen for years, and ohmygodohmygod were they Levi’s? You turned the shorts around and looked over the brown stitched square on the waistband of them—definitely Levi’s.

You looked up, putting the shorts down in your lap at the sight of your son rubbing his eyes sleepily in the doorway, just in the light of the sun.

“Good morning,” you smiled, and your heart almost burst when he smiled cutely back. You put the clothes to one side and stood up, a prep in your step that you were fond of, and scooped him up, your back complaining under the weight of him on your hip. Some might have said he was getting too big to be carried around, now. Hell, your bones were shouting it at you. But you’d never get these years back.

“What can we have breakfast?” You sighed, setting him on the counter.

“Hmmmm,” he thought. “Toast?”

You clicked your tongue, reaching for the bread bin. “That is a good choice, little man.”

There wasn’t much in the small kitchen but a couple of things your new neighbours had brought over. The morning after the movie night, just as the kids on the street were heading to school, you’d had a couple of light knocks at your door. Mindful of Freddie still sleeping, you’d unlocked and opened it quietly, smiling politely but wondering what the hell this stout, red-cheeked woman was doing on your step.

“Good morning!” She beamed, and you tried to keep yours. Too early for this kind of joy. Her dark, short curls were tied in a large bun at the top of her head, and she still wore a bright orange dressing gown that reached her slippered feet. “I’m Pam, nice to meet you!”

Pam had a very distinct Brooklyn accent, and dull-blue eyes. She gave you the feeling of a nanna who just wanted to smother her children and grandchildren in hugs and kisses and feed them until they were fat.

You told her your name in return. “Can I help you with anything?” You shook your head a little, watching for her reaction.

Pam shook the wide wicker basket you hadn’t notice she held. “Noticed one of the girls from patrol brought you here the other day. We didn’t see you at all until last night in the hall, remember? So I got to thinkin’, ‘Pam, this woman needs a friend and some good food’. Didn’t figure you’d got a moment to go get anything yet. So I put together a little package for you, sweetie.”

“That’s…that’s really thoughtful,” you sighed gently, in some sort of relaxing state. “Thank you.”

Pam all but shoved it into your hands. “Now, we live just next door, see?” She gestured to the house on your left. “You’re welcome any time you like. My girls have just left for school so I’ve got a bit of cleaning to do, and dear lord I gotta get cooking brisket. I got some brisket last week…”

You hadn’t been able to get rid of her.

“Toast and jam coming right up,” you popped the button, and Freddie cheered. “You know what we’re gonna do today?”

“What?”

You started spreading the jam from the small pot. “We’re going to get some paint.”

“Paint?” Freddie looked incredibly confused. “What for?”

—

Alongside the many other surprising things this town had, a hardware store was one of them. Trying to avoid a lot of talk, now you knew people had noticed you, you took a small box paintbrushes, and two lots of teal paint.

“What do you think?” You looked at the colour swatches in front of the tins. “Teal or darker?”

“Teal!”

Which was how you ended up standing on the toilet seat, paintbrush up to the ceiling, carefully outlining the edges. Freddie was chattering away in the living room accompanied by the box of toys you’d taken in there for him to play with. It wasn’t very hard to keep him occupied these days. The poor kid hadn’t had many toys at all growing up; you simply hadn’t had the resources.

Arizona.

A complete and total lie. The month of hiking from Virginia to Wyoming had almost killed you. Literally. Between the days of not eating to feed your kid instead, and the constant fight against the elements and infected, you were sure many a time that you’d made the wrong decision.

You hadn’t wanted to tell anyone yet where you’d really come from, too afraid to let people know what you were really about. Life back in Virginia had been a different world to this life in Wyoming, this centre of bliss. Between Freddie’s father running off at the first mention of parenthood, and your constant struggle from then onward, life was a fight you’d learned to navigate your own way.

Having arrived here, seeing just what you’d paid information and trader for, was like the world finally giving back. It had taken your youth. It had taken your freedom and happiness for a long, long time. But through all of your efforts of surviving motherhood alone, trying to survive in a place that didn’t want you to…it was overwhelming and a great relief to know it finally wasn’t all for nothing.

You added another splash of colour to your walls.

To your life.

—

By week three, you grew antsy.

And you knew just the person to go to.

“Hey there!” Pam threw up her hands, beaming. She stepped back, and you could smell the beautiful smell of—was that actual duck? “Come in, come in! I’ve just started cooking!”

Freddie clung onto your hand, pressing in your side as you entered the house. You’d never seen a fuller place.

“It smells amazing in here,” you commented. Books were stacked from floor to ceiling next to a full bookshelf, and photographs filled pretty much every space on every wall in sight. “Duck?”

“It is, indeed!” Pam bustled through the hallway. The layout was similar to your own house. “Want some? We got plenty to go around.”

What harm could it do to say yes?

“Uh, that’d be great, actually. Thank you.”

She waved her hand, ushering you into the kitchen. “Oh, you don’t need to thank me, sweetie. Got more than enough for everyone here. And who might this little guy be?”

You smiled, looking down at Freddie. He smiled shyly. “This is my boy, Freddie. You gonna say hi?”

“Hi,” he muttered, hiding his face in your jacket straight after.

You laughed with Pam at his shyness.

“Waiting on the girls to come back from school, and the husband’s still at the bar with Tommy, but you’re welcome to make yourself at home.”

“Tommy?” That caught your attention. Pam hummed, opening the oven and pulling out the tray of duck. “Tommy Miller?”

“Yeah. You met him yet?”

“I have, actually, the first night I actually tried to socialise. Saved me from a pretty unfortunate incident with some guy who couldn’t take a hint,” you huffed a laugh.

Pam groaned. “Ugh—hate guys like that.”

“Tell me about it.”

A best of silence fell over you, and determined to keep the evening light (and to make it seem like you definitely weren’t struggling for things to say) you said the first thing that popped into your head.

“So,” you watched as Freddie left your side warily, and began walking his diplodocus dinosaur up and down the kitchen table. “How long have you guys been here?”

“Oh, about two years, now, give or take,” Pam nodded. “Group of us found this place pretty much deserted back in early 2014. It looked pretty much intact—” she lowered her voice, looking from yourself to your son, “infected didn’t seem to come out this far. So we got it cleaned up as best we could, then started on building the fences to surround the place. And now you’re seeing the rest of our efforts. Gates, stronger walls, our little community. It all works out well, I’d say.”

And it did. The concept of not having to fight like hell to get something you needed still felt a little strange to you—everything here, Maria explained in your first week, was free game, shared between the people who inhabited the community. It was a wonderful idea, but you wondered how long it could last, and more importantly, if it would.

“You mentioned your girls going to school?”

Pam hummed, stirring something on the stove. “It’s a big enough place. Only got a couple’a teachers but it’s better than nothing. You thinkin’ of sending the little one?”

Your heart raced every time you thought of leaving Freddie somewhere you wouldn’t be, but you knew this was important for him. He was five, now. And needed desperately to be around kids his own age, learning about life as normally as possible.

“I was.” You nodded. As if sensing you wanted to talk more about it, Pam nodded you over, and you stood with your hands in your pockets as you talked. Weirdly, you almost felt seventeen again, standing and talking with your mother as she cooked. It hurt. Bad. “I’m worried about leaving him. He’s never been away from me a second in his life, Pam. Ever.”

She pursed her lips, but her eyes weren’t without sympathy. She put down the wooden spoon on the side, and folded her arms to look at you. You were taller than her, a good two heads at least, but she gave the feeling of somebody who knew what they were talking about—a mother and a woman with life experience and a kind but firm heart.

“That place, the school, is well protected. This whole community is protected day and night by people who have the same worries as you and I, darling.” She sighed, and you felt yourself frowning. “I’m not saying it won’t be hard. Every time my husband and children walk out the front door, it is a constant struggle to not chase after them and pull them back. But we’re all here, every one of us in this community, for the same reason; to get some semblance of life back. If it makes you feel better, could talk to Maria about picking up some sort of duty around the place to keep your mind off of things. But the first step to living properly again is by letting that little boy take steps on his own, mama.”

—

“I need something to do.”

Maria lifted her eyes from her bowl of cereal. “Good morning.”

“Morning,” you hurried. Freddie clung to you half-asleep, arms around your neck loosely. “I need something to do.”

“Are you wearing Levi’s?” Her mouth gaped, eying your jeans. “What d’you mean you need something to do? We do meetings and yoga—”

“I’m not going to yoga, Maria,” you huffed. The older woman snickered. “I need a job. Give me something to do.”

“Well, what are you interested in doing?”

You faltered. What were you interested in doing? It was hard to think of things you were good at when you hadn’t had the opportunity to explore in the last decade. Back in high school, at the ripe age of sixteen before things turned to shit, you’d enjoyed sitting in art class drawing aimless patterns, or twirling watered-down paint over the back of your hand with a fine brush.

“Got anything to do with art around here?”

“Not really. There’s a small hardware store that sells paints and decor things, but other than that…”

You chewed on the inside of your cheek. “What about…what about...” you thought hard. You wanted stability and safety, and there were people who guarded the place…

“What about patrol?”

Maria’s face tightened. “Are you sure? We have a rota for who does what time, but…” her eyes moved to Freddie. “Are you sure you want to try that? I mean, it’s your choice, but there’s a lot of going out into Jackson itself, might come across raiders or infected. Anything could happen.”

If it fit around what you hoped would be a stable event in your son’s life, it would have to do.

This chapter is such a filler omg.

Taglist:

@mimi-luvzyu @totallyspicegurl @pedritosdarling

#tlou #the last of us #tommy miller x reader #tommy miller #joel miller #joel miller x reader #tlou series #the last of us hbo #tommy miller series #Joel miller series #sarah miller #henry tlou #neil druckmann #pedro pascal #gabriel luna #ellie williams #bella ramsey #fanfiction

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