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| [P] Incomplete; Marion | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Tue Nov 21, 2017 6:38 am (271 Views) | |
| Marion | Thu Jan 11, 2018 7:21 pm Post #16 |
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Mari, he said, stuttering. She nodded, encouraging him, wanting that name to stick somewhere inside him. Wanting the sound to burn through whatever blocked his memories, wanting to etch it inside the metal plating of his chest so he would never forget again. The voice was closer to his own, now, deeper, less mechanical. More human. He stood. He was taller, now—much taller than he’d been before. She had to tilt her head a bit to meet the portals of his eyes. He took a hesitant step toward her, but she didn’t move closer or farther away. If he needed to take his time deciding, that was all right. But she didn’t know what he wanted—if he even really remembered or if he was merely repeating the sounds she made—what if he hurt her? And then he hugged her. Marion squeaked at the contact, sudden and unexpected. He was solid against her. Somewhere in his plating, something hummed. “I don’t know,” she answered. “I don’t know.” With a great measure of hesitance she wrapped her arms around him, touching the metal of his body with uncertain fingertips. In his old life he’d hated being touched. At first she’d tortured him with this—tackled him to the ground, gotten too close for comfort in his space. He’d hugged her once and she’d pushed him away. But this time she couldn’t. “I came to your shop to apologize,” she said. “And when I got there… your blood was everywhere. It was everywhere. And your body was gone. I went back there tonight to try and think through what could have happened. I’m going to kill whoever killed you. Don’t tell me not to, because I’m going to do it, no matter what you say. So you—you did die, but you’re here, so you—you’re alive, just… it’s just a different body. So I think—I think you’re still alive. I’m so glad you’re alive.” She nodded fiercely, tears welling up in her eyes. She clenched her eyes shut to force them back. “You haven’t got to hug me if you don’t like it, Eshan. We don’t have to be what we aren’t around each other, remember?” She offered a watery smile. Then, digging into her pocket, she pulled out the little clock he’d made for her. “I carry it with me everywhere.” |
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| Tinker | Thu Jan 11, 2018 11:07 pm Post #17 |
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Eshan wanted to squeeze her tighter, but was terrified of breaking her. Close as she was, it didn't feel the same. It felt cold, impersonal. He could tell she was there, something inside him resonating with her nearness, but it felt like they were embracing through something thick shielding them from contact. There was no skin touching skin, no human vulnerability that so many found reassuring. There was a shield between him and everyone else, stopping him from coming too close. He was safe. He reflected on her words, letting them process and hoped they sparked some memory of his end, but nothing came. Perhaps it was a blessing. "Don't have to, what we aren't." He repeated, patting her back gently. "We're friends." The lenses of his eyes narrowed happily, the closest thing to a smile he could manage. Uncoiling his arms from her, he stepped back, looking around the clocktower as if seeing it for the first time. He wasn't hunched over and scared looking as he had always been before. Looking around, his gaze settled on his hands, several bolts in his face shifting in mock expression. Turning his hands over, he flexed each finger in order. They appeared to move fluidly, easily, but he noticed the slightest hitch on his right ring finger. filing it away for future reference, he noticed the clock in her hand as she spoke. Eyes widening, he hunched down to look closely, curling his hand around its back and turning it in the dim light. It was familiar, he could still see the minute imperfections. It had been changed a little, retooled. It brought to mind one of the last things he remembered, preparing apology gifts. They had fought because of what he'd done. What he hadn't told her. "I'm sorry, Marion. Should have told you. Should have trusted you." He didn't have obvious features, but the mechanisms of his face had their own expressions. He seemed abashed. Letting the clock slip out of his hand back into hers. "My fault." He gestured between them, then tapped on his chest with a metallic ring. "My fault too. Not you." |
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8:39 AM Jul 11

