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Who: Asriel, Frisk, and Toriel
When: April 18th
Where: The Garden, and then Toriel's room
What: Two children get poisoned
Warnings: Sick kids being sick

A. In the Gardens

Eating pie in the garden was Asriel's suggestion. It seemed like a fun idea, and it was his favorite place to visit on the Moira. After exploring creepy prisons and accidentally revealing a little too much information about himself, Asriel just wanted to someplace quiet to go, talk, and eat some of the pie that was delivered to him in the mail.

Frisk and him spent the last few minutes talking about whatever topics came to mind - from space to books they've read, to what kind of foods they hated and Toriel made them eat anyway.

The pie slice that Asriel was eating tasted a little weird, but he didn't think much of it at first. But his stomach's starting to hurt. More so than just a usual stomachache.

"Frisk, do you think that pie was...?"

Not made right is what he almost says, but there's a sharp pain and he wraps his arms around his stomach. What's left of his slice falls out of his hand, but when it lands on the floor, small yellow flowers are sticking out.

B. Toriel's Room

The last thing Asriel remembers is being in the garden with Frisk. But when he slowly comes to, the scent of flowers and plants are gone and replaced with a familiar warmth. His throat burns, and there's a loud gasp as he sucks in a painful breath of air. Where's Frisk? Where is he? What happened? are all question that drift through his mind, but it's hard to coherently put any of these questions together with that intense pain in his stomach, and the whole room looking like a blur of colors that refuse to come into focus.

Someone... someone help... help me...

He tries to call out, but the only noise that comes out is a whimper. It's hard to form the right words, hard to think through all the heat and pain and drenched fur. Someone please.

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The chime does not go unanswered for long, the door slides open smoothly revealing the very tall boss monster. The resemblance to Asriel becomes clearer in person certainly, much clearer than the brief odd conversations they had over the network. Toriel herself gets a real look at the robotic being, surprised by how loud the whirring coming from him is to some extent.

Her smile is thin lipped and polite, but not hostile. She has a variety of feelings about what Rinzler has done, but they aren't reflected in her now.

"Let us converse outside, the children should be resting now." She smoothly offers in turn, stepping forward to let the door close behind her. Her eyes drift to the cracks, she's able to stifle a frown that wants to rise. Concern mixed with distrust is an strange feeling.

Edited 2016-04-26 06:32 (UTC)

The similar renders, Rinzler had guessed at. The monster's size is what catches him off-guard. The black helmet angles upward, a little stilted in surprise. He's not sure he agrees with the suggestion—the hallway of Nomo Deck is hardly the most private place to talk. Then again, maybe the monster doesn't expect this to take long.

Either way, Rinzler steps back, helmet dipping in acquiescence. As Toriel's gaze returns to him, his own is downward, already typing into his MID. The words appear over Rinzler's shoulder, projected in bright red lines that match his own circuit lights almost completely.

Removed flight permissions (ID: Asriel).

Why?

"Because, I do not trust you with his safety." She states plainly, crossing her arms over her chest. Her expression is settled to something stern, disapproving.

"The planned trap was unfair, but you have attacked others before and killed someone unaffiliated to the planned attack upon you. I cannot trust you with my child's safety. Not given the violence that seems to follow you."

Fingers twitch at the accusation, curling slightly through the holographic keyboard of Rinzler's display. He wouldn't hurt Asriel. Wouldn't let the beta be damaged by anyone, not if he could do anything about it. But... there's still that flicker of doubt, that flicker of fear he'd felt when the smaller monster had first stopped visiting him in the hold. The concern that Asriel might have been injured not by chance, but because of Rinzler's enemies.

The violence that follows him.

The helmet bows a little, circuits dim. He won't argue any right to hold her trust. He'd like to argue for a chance to prove himself. But priorities first.

The program's head ducks again, a short dip that taps the point of his mask just above Rinzler's own T-shaped cluster of circuitry. Self-reference. 'I' is a word for those who were meant to choose and act alone, but Rinzler can still reference himself as a unit.

Only problem?

"It is a large enough problem to warrant no further lessons." She states simply back, with lack of a traditional face to watch she watches Rinzler's body language. It says enough to make her expression soften to some degree. "I would mention the fact I was not told of these lessons, but it is a moot point."

"I know you care about Asriel, but he is not safe with you, around you- not when the people on this ship seem intent on attacking you." Toriel elaborates further with a wrinkle of her snout. "I do not know what you have done to earn such ire, but it is dangerous given your behavior mixed with anyone deciding to take law into their own hands against you."

Again, Rinzler doesn't argue. Not these problems. Not now. Response is being formulated, certainly, but there's a much more important question than whether or not Asriel's allowed to interact with him. The black helmet stays low, no overt challenge, but the words scroll out more quickly now, one line following the next.

Flight training: important.

Can contact other transporter crew.
Find alternative instructor.

Rey would be willing, certainly—she'd covered for him with some of the others while he'd been confined.

Acceptable option if required?

If. Rinzler hasn't given up on his own involvement, not completely. But he wants to assess the viability of this plan first.

Whilst she isn't fond of the idea of her son piloting anything- the joy he got from it made her relent to some extent. "Yes, yes it is."

Her lips tug into a thin line, something as neutral as she can make it for who she is. "If you can find another instructor, Asriel can continue flight training." Toriel could not take away something Asriel enjoyed, even if everything in her wanted to protect that child, she would not deny him happiness.

Rinzler's helmet ducks in a nod. It lingers longer than before, noise whirring out quietly. Not just acknowledgement. Thanks. Whatever else she will or won't allow, he's grateful for that much.

When he does look up, the gesture's more cautious. Fingers twitch then settle, stutters of motion that don't quite resolve to words. He wants more. But he doesn't know if asking for it might invalidate the exception she's granted already.

Wouldn't let him get hurt.

Toriel shakes her head, "You cannot promise that. Not when you've angered so many people." A hand drifts up to rest against her forehead tiredly.

"You showed a woman no mercy when she ran to help someone you had downed. Why would anyone show someone who is actively your friend, someone who cares for you the same mercy?" Humanity is sharp as it is cruel, infecting what it creates with these feelings. Humanity has the capacity for great kindness as it does great cruelty. Toriel knows this well enough now.

"Can you not see this? Revenge blinds all, violence blinds everyone to reason."

Edited 2016-05-02 09:46 (UTC)

Can.

There's no objection to the placement of blame. No claim that the users here will act any better. But that first line, Rinzler will object to, fingers tracing the word on his keys without looking. The program's stare is locked on Toriel, and there's a stillness—a certainty—that wasn't there before.

He's a killer. He won't pretend any mercy for his enemies, and certainly violence is coded into every line of the program's frame. But he's not mindless, and he's not weak, and if he says the beta won't come to harm, he means that. At any cost. Circuits brighten as the stare drags out, and for a moment, it almost looks like there's a spark of blue behind the red-tinged lights.

What would it take?

She holds her chin high, frown steady in place. "If you can prove to me- prove to me you're safe for Asriel to be around, you may continue to interact. This means, no attacking anyone, no bringing him into any dangerous schemes or murder ploys. Keep him away from your feuds."

"If he is to be your friend, you need to keep him away from the dangerous things you involve yourself with. I do not know your nature, but you are not human. You are not as... dangerous or cruel." This is one of the few times she will admit as much aloud. "You can do terrible things, but you need to consider what and who you can lose from doing these things."

Toriel cannot lose her only son again. Not after she's only gotten him back.

No attacking. Rinzler knows without question the impossibility of that line—not for any plans he has, but from sheer function. Rinzler is written for combat, designed to fight and kill and most of all, remove an active threat. There are some things he can't—won't—stand by and ignore. Still, maybe those are things this monster won't object to. Or in a worst case, doesn't need to know. And if she does find out, if he finds his access cut off again... at least Asriel will still be able to fly.

Most of the list is acceptable enough. The mask doesn't lower this time, doesn't flinch away; challenge met and held as Rinzler confirms.

Won't involve him in conflicts.
Don't attack without good reason.
In event of threat, prioritize his safety and removal from the risk.

Good is a relative qualifier. But he'll do what he can to hold it to her standards, and if he fails, he'll accept the consequences of that. The first line is a given; the last, a promise. Rinzler repeats it. Rephrases, recycles the line she'd cast aside above, because he is capable, and he'll prove it to her. Whatever it takes.

Won't get hurt.

The helmet tilts to the side, the gesture slight, but clear. Acceptable?

Toriel can only sigh softly, somehow she isn't surprised. Toriel doesn't expect Rinzler to be able to avoid conflict, given his apparent history upon the ship and current behavior she would be doubtful if he swore immediately to stay out of trouble. This, this is more realistic. Realistic enough she's feeling frustrated. The petty part of herself wants to reject him, ban him from ever seeing her son again.

"Do not withhold information regarding any possible danger Asriel is in from me either." She is not a mind reader, but she can guess secrets might be kept. Her children were good at that. "I do not want to lose my son again, Rinzler."

The unspoken question is understood. She nods slowly, holding his 'gaze'. "I'm trusting you, do not disappoint me or him."

The angle of the helmet quirks just a little further at that corollary, but Rinzler nods without much lag. He's not entirely sure what kinds of danger she's expecting—if any of the enforcer's enemies target Asriel, the resulting conflict will be anything but quiet. And if Rinzler has anything to say about it, it certainly won't last.

Still, reporting threat data is easy enough, and not something this program would take issue with. There's a beat of stillness as she confirms the rest... but if Rinzler's movements don't give away much, the brightening of his circuit patterns is anything but subtle.

Can fly?

"When you prove yourself to me, you two may fly together." She confirms softly. The brightening of the circuit pattern makes her sharpness fade.

"For now, I won't ban you from being friends. When he is well again you may 'hang out' as the children say these days."

[Following almost immediately after Toriel's answer, a muffled "YEAH!!" can be heard from the door behind Toriel and Rinzler. The door slides open, and a small fluffy child who was supposed to be asleep comes tumbling out.

Tiny arms wrap around her waist, and Asriel's practically beaming with happiness.]

Thank you, mom!

Edited 2016-05-05 05:30 (UTC)

Rinzler's mask lingers on Toriel's expression. Prove yourself is an unfortunately familiar request, but whatever test this monster has in mind, he suspects it will be kinder. And he knows he won't fail. The helmet ducks in a quick nod, and fingers hesitate, wondering if he should ask...

...when a shout and a blur of white off-track that line of processing completely. Rinzler's noise catches, skipping quietly in a way that definitely, absolutely, sounds nothing like a laugh.

"...Asriel." Toriel's voice drops to a familiar warning tone at the small goatling clinging to her waist. Why was she not surprised her son was listening in?

"Last I remember, you were supposed to be resting. Yet, here you are out of bed."

Asriel feels like he's getting to know that voice a little too well on this ship. It still doesn't do much to dampen his spirits, though he understands that if he doesn't speak up soon, that mom voice is going to get a lot scarier.

"I-I was just getting up for some water and then I was going back to bed!"

Though he still hasn't gotten any water yet. The conversation between his mom and friend ended up taking priority.

"Mom, is it really okay if I can take flying lessons from Rinzler again?"

Rinzler's helmet stays angled toward Asriel, visuals and scan-sense checking him over as amusement recedes to curiosity. The monster isn't code enough to detect much, but if his energy levels aren't quite what they were, they're not critically low, either. Good. Certainly his movements don't seem lagged—for that enthusiastic burst, at least.

The program would insert a status query, but sidetracking from that question is the last thing he wants to do. Eyes slide up behind the black mask, gauging Toriel's response.

"Mmmh." She doesn't accept the excuse entirely, "Come here." She moves to sweep Asriel up into her arms. The poisoning and the following conversation leaves the monster more protective of her only son.

"When Rinzler proves himself, yes you may. For now, you're taking lessons with someone else for a period of time." Toriel repeats what she's said before. "Someone Rinzler picks and knows can teach you." She doesn't know the program's expertise regarding flight, but she's giving him the benefit of the doubt regarding his quality. "After you've gotten better."

When. Still no clarification of the task, but Rinzler isn't sure that's something to ask in front of the beta. She hadn't said 'if', though, and that's... something.

For now, he hangs back, a quick touch angling the text display towards Asriel.

Status?

The answer from Toriel isn't exactly what he was hoping for, but it isn't a complete ban. And he was still allowed to talk to Rinzler, which mattered a lot.

Toriel scooping him up is met with just a little bit of squirming, but he settles contently in her arms. Rinzler's message is a little hard to read from his position.

"I'm okay." He's actually really tired, though it looks like he's fighting it. The smile he gives is a little bit of a sad one. "I'm pretty tough."

Though there's an idea that floats through his head. He stifles a yawn before looking back at Toriel.

"Mom, do you want to come to one of the flying lessons?"

That way, maybe she'd be a little more comfortable with him flying? The only way she'd know for sure is if she saw it herself. He shifts his gaze back to Rinzler, giving him a questioning look.

"Do you think that would be okay, Rinzler?"

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