thisavrou_log | [open] Perfect weather for a game of catch.

Entry tags:

[open] Perfect weather for a game of catch.

Who: Frisk, Asriel, Chara, and YOU
When: Sssssssometime this month, wibbly wobbly have fun with it
Where: A park in Kauto R1
What: Kids having a picnic, what could be better?
Warnings: Chara, will be updated as needed

It's been a long trip.

Definitions of 'long' are a little variable, but all three children have been anxious to see an end to their travels. It didn't start when they crossed through the Ingress, but long before that.

Someone climbed a mountain for an unhappy reason.

Someone carried a body to a field of golden flowers.

Someone took a long journey, just wanting to live their life.

But now they've come, not to The End, but an end. It's not perfect, not quite what any of them were expecting. But it's better, it's theirs, and...they can stay. What it means to each child, what they think of it and what they have to say, it all varies. But no one and nothing can or will take this from them.

The three of them are gathered together in a park. Birds are singing, flowers are blooming...a blanket is laid out on the grass, and in a cooler drinks and snacks are kept on hand. A few toys lay nearby, but it seems that for now the trio is content enough to relax and talk amongst themselves. Smiles adorn their faces (though one face in particular wears theirs a little sharply), and the scene is...nice. This is nice.

Even if they may not agree, they have long since earned this respite.

(( ooc: Feel free to come and pester the kiddos! Everyone will be responding separately, though there may be threadjacking or some doubling up. Have fun! ))

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

A familiar figure, no doubt. His hostility is kept to a minimum, as befits everyone. It is unlikely he would be restrained should he be genuinely hostile - though assumptions, as all well know, are unkind things to be made regarding those whom they do not know.

All the same, there are some that may find a silent observer to be - unsettling. Not Frisk, of course; they bear no qualms about Sans's tendencies, neither here nor at home. But others may take umbrage with such a thing.

Others may approach with the casual, dismissive lift of an eyebrow.

"Enjoying the view?"

Chara's approach isn't difficult to track, and they'll find the opaque helmet slanting slightly to follow them. Rinzler doesn't move from his spot, but there's a quiet uptick to his constant rumble—if they're listening closely enough to catch it. Irritation? Not harsh enough. Curiosity? Maybe.

To their address, he only slants his mask: a query for a query. Is there some reason he shouldn't be?

They have every intention of ensuring this encounter is far more expeditious than the one previous. Perhaps there is no harm in watching innocent children at play; only these children are far from innocent, and their play is but a temporary distraction at best.

"Have you something to say, I suggest you say it," they answer, clipped and cleanly professional as ever.

They do so ever hate those who stand in their way.

If he has something to say? Rinzler's helmet fixes for a long moment, an irritated skip filtering through his noise. Speech isn't his function, user. And he didn't walk up to you.

But fine. Words might not be his preferred method of acquiring data (words lie, far too often and too much), but he has the means, and a second sampling couldn't hurt. The enforcer reaches for his TAB, a quick touch activating the holographic interface to project his usual textbox out for Chara's viewing.

Association: IDs (Asriel, Frisk)?

They had presumed he would be capable to drawing conclusions necessary to be drawn in terms of speech and its associations. Or would "communication" be the preferred terminology?

It hardly matters. Their head tilts slightly, momentarily, and they answer promptly and without a rise or fall to their tone.

"Housemates. Charges. Whichever you wish to call them." Those in need of their protection, as evidently Thisavrou is a harsher environment than is acceptable for a pair of children who love too easily, for whom forgiveness is second nature.

Housemates is a location-status, no hint of value either way. The second term, though, draws a quiet skip of Rinzler's sound. He stares down at the user, hesitating before adding a line for confirmation. Charges.

Allies?

Allies implies equality where none exists. They do not allow for contemplation - that would likewise imply that his words have weight, that they have affected them in some fashion, and they will deny such a claim for every inch, every mile.

And so they smile, blithely, and speak without inflection. He appreciates technical phraseology, does he not?

"Handlers."

That Rinzler does. Still, of all the specific terms he might have expected... that hadn't made the list. For Chara as relates to others? Maybe. For Chara as relates to them?

The mask twitches slightly to one side, unspoken challenge. Chara appreciates directness, no?

They don't think so.

Directness. Certainly they can appreciate a question, a statement, posed without needless dancing about the subject. They've experience with far too many monsters and humans who favor evasion as a tactic, whenever possible.

"Of course they don't." A subtle undercurrent of scorn, an inclination of their chin - quiet, casual acknowledgment. "They are idealistic to a fault."

Not the answer he'd projected. But not worse. And certainly not wrong. Rinzler stares a moment before dipping his own head... and following the motion with a forward roll off of his perch. It's too slow for an attack, but there's an eerie fluidity, body inverting with the same ease most humans would walk down the street. And probably the same amount of practice.

He lands in a crouch. Straightens, most of the way, to his usual close hunch. There's no effort to close the gap further, but the program doesn't lag in reaching for his TAB.

Protecting them.

Their reaction is immediate and terse, the tensing of their back and their shoulders and the stiffening of their smile in anticipation for an exchange of blows. No bullet patterns here, they have since learned - people favor rather more direct movements, it seems.

He only seeks to move closer. They do not retreat, and they do not balk. They hold themself where they are, ramrod-straight, and it is only once his words reach them that they take note of how their hand has fallen to the hilt of the Real Knife, fingers curling about the pommel in an unconscious, nervous gesture.

To release it now would suggest such a motion was unintentional. They have lost ground, taken a hit.

They recover with masterful simplicity, lips peeling in a wide, unnatural grin.

"Perhaps I am merely waiting for their most vulnerable moment."

The freeze doesn't escape Rinzler's notice. Neither does the weapon. Both reactions are reasonable—not sensible, perhaps, but certainly preferable to cowering. He doesn't react, replying to their words instead of gesture.

Will kill you if you do.

There's no posturing. No threat. Just a statement of fact, red-orange letters hovering implacably in the air. Or intent, if Chara prefers—but there's not a fraction of lag or uncertainty in the enforcer's noise or frame. In Rinzler's mind, at least, capability isn't something worth debating.

Their intention is, but the taunt has already made it clear enough straight answers won't be coming. Chara can talk around him in circles, and Rinzler has no interest in that kind of Game. He adds another line without pausing for acknowledgement.

Request data.

And thus, they learn two things - the first, that he has evidently formed quite an attachment to the pair of them. The second, that he has no apparently moral qualms with playing the hero and slaying the demon.

Who would? Everyone would thank him, would they not?

He does not acknowledge, and neither do they. They are and always have been an acceptable loss. They could have a SOUL or they could have a future; they could never possess both. To assume such would change, even here, would be

Absurd.

"And what sort of data would that be?"

Hero? No, that would be Tron. His mirror. His "better half". The one the users wanted. Rinzler is a killer, plain and simple, and if Chara proves a threat to those who trust them, he won't hesitate to carry out his task.

Of course, they wouldn't both still be exchanging words if that was what Rinzler expected. He's sticking with his earlier assumption, confirmation or no.

Status (betas). Known threats.

Whether they'll share the data is questionable, but he knows Chara would be watching.

Known threats. Aside from the fact that he is, right now, looking at and conversing with one? Why, are there not plenty of them, scattered about?

"You presume yourself their keeper, I see." They inflect the words with no more or less amusement than they would generally; it is not a judgment, nor is it an approval. It is an observation, and nothing more, of the fact that the human child and the angel who has seen the surface have more than one person firmly aligned in their corner.

Good.

And of the demon? No one bothers. No one has reason to. What else is new?

"Aside from the one to which you have been speaking?" they add, wryly. "Known threats are numerous and countless, when it comes to these two."

Keeper might hold no particular judgement value for Chara. For Rinzler? It's a lot less neutral of a word. The enforcer stills, sound catching harshly as his helmet jerks pointedly to the side.

Not a user.

Or an admin. (Or Clu.) But a user is what's in front of him, a user is what's applying the false term. Rinzler is a weapon. Rinzler is a tool. Not anything that could lay claim or restriction.

Active threats?

"Themselves, largely." Their gaze roves over the pair of children with the enthusiasm of a dulled knife. Cannot possibly allow a breath of it to leak through, and so they do not. They speak slowly, measured, as though this is of as patently little importance as the weather.

For what it's worth, it is - a beautiful day outside. Whatever this world has that passes for birds are probably singing. The alien equivalent of flowers are likely blooming.

A truly beautiful day outside.

"You have only but to offer them a sword, and they will fall upon it." Their eyes slide to Rinzler, back again, and they add, "metaphorically, of course. Though I imagine they would take it to literal levels if they could."

Themselves. It's not an assessment Rinzler disagrees with. It's not one he can, especially of late. His helmet turns to follow Chara's gaze, a precise twitch that stalls not on the faces of the pair... but on the glowing rings suspended on their backs.

...

If they could. Noise skips quietly, and he types without looking away.

Status?

"I am not your arbiter; I cannot do everything for you." An empty stare communicates irritation just as much, if not more than, a slight tonal twist, and requires significantly less effort.

It also allows a steady eye on their partner in conversation, as he focuses on the discs the pair of children wear. One of which Chara has seen activated in combat, once, though not in any fatal sense.

"Ask them yourself, given that you're so terribly interested."

The black helmet twitches back to Chara, a static modulation of annoyance interrupting the enforcer's sound.

Query: your assessment.

Not the first time he's queried. Or the first time they've avoided giving a response. Rinzler tilts his mask toward the pair in indication, fingers flickering across the holographic keys.

They lie.

Sorry, are they being too very contrarian for you, Rinzler? Too obstructive? Perhaps you've a fair fraction of insight into how it must have been, dealing with one such as them on a regular basis.

They meet the very much factual statement with a dazzling smile.

"Fair enough."

Their eyes flick back to the pair of children who have become, without ceremony, their impromptu charges; those they must see after and care for, as neither will particularly care for themselves. Some self-sacrificial heroic intention or another. Both are rife with it.

"They are better than they have been, no doubt. Settling into a single, static planet without fear of change has helped their mental states significantly." They open a hand, palm to the sky, in an equivocal supination. "And yet I doubt they expect this to last, in any case."

Forever waiting for the other shoe to drop.

It is a familiar concern.

Oh, obstruction is something Rinzler's perfectly familiar with. Just not something he has much patience with, especially when it comes to words. They aren't his function, aren't anything he was designed to use, and if he could strip what data he needed in this world from something so simple as a disk...

...well, he probably would have learned much less. Especially from those two.

It's almost funny.

Words are all Chara can offer, and Rinzler listens, sound quieting to the usual low rattle. It's nothing he couldn't have projected, but the confirmation is valuable, particularly from this source. Rinzler too, doubts the peace will last. It's a lie like all the others, a pretense and taunt just waiting to be proven. He hates it. He'd shatter it himself if he could. But he'll be ready when it fails.

Doubts or no, he suspects the betas won't.

The black mask dips. There's a momentary lag, and one more string fills the display.

Data appreciated.

They cannot particularly blame either child, for expecting the peace to fray and snap like a piece of wire. Nothing good ever lasts, a lesson all of them have well learned, they imagine, in times gone past.

One final string of data, and it elicits little more than a faint, knowing twitch to one corner of their mouth, as false as any of their smiles.

"A thank you? For services rendered?" Goodness, Rinzler. You flatter them.

Helmet or no, the glower that responds isn't hard to pick up. Especially when the enforcer's sound is scraping toward a growl. Rinzler steps back, bristling slightly as his frame coils and leaps, an easy midair flip that puts him up atop the wall again. His mask quirks pointedly.

Anything else, user?

Of course not. Nothing useful remains, and thus - he is dismissed, implicitly. Hopefully he will not mind if they watch him depart, needlessly acrobatic as the maneuver is. They are seldom one to willingly turn their back.

"Enjoy your day, Mr. Rinzler." It is very much a beautiful day outside, after all. One would be remiss to waste all of it on pointless endeavors, would they not?

(no subject)

notglitching - 2017-02-21 06:01 (UTC) - Expand

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[open] Perfect weather for a game of catch.

>initiated.

> check

> ACT > judge

You find your judgement returned in kind.

:)

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

(no subject)