TO FORGET.

  “ Primrose, hm? A beautiful name, though I hope she is doing better in this weather than an actual flower would, ” Joshua muses, giving a small hum. He’s been to a flower shop or two in the past, trying to picture the right bloom to match the mysterious person.

  He supposes thinking on it for longer than a moment would be silly; after all, Primrose isn’t the one in front of him right now! Joshua refocuses on 9S, kicking his legs slowly at the introduction of the other. He’s more than used to begrudging greetings at this point, spotting it silently.

  “ Thank you, 9S. It’s a pleasure to meet you as well. ” With that said, he moves and approaches the android, politely holding out his hand for a shake. “ My name is Yoshiya Kiryu, but I much prefer to be called Joshua. I hope we can become friends in the time we spend together here. ”

He glances reluctantly to one side, wondering how much he even ought to tell of Primrose. She was a friendly woman, but he could tell she held herself back -- and it isn’t his secret to tell. “She seems to be doing quite fine. Better than many of the people who end up here.” And that’s all he says -- reluctantly watching as the boy approaches, some part of him flickering at the introduction.

Joshua. A nickname. A name one chooses for one’s self. He stares down at the boy’s hand, before reluctantly taking it in a quick shake, before turning away. He hadn’t introduced himself with his own nickname for some time now -- didn’t care to hear it from anyone’s lips. Didn’t deserve to hear it. It was not his name, after all. He didn’t have one.

[ happy event! nines is mainly excited at the prospect of being able to go further out of the village than usual, surprise surprise. you might find him examining the snowdrops while seeming oddly reluctant to pick one. good luck at getting him to relax, as per!

@dowasure

        so… silvermoss.

        the forest blooms in color, a sign you’re not swallowed up by graphite or snow, and for that it seems interesting enough; there is, of course, the cave placed within, but you’ve already heard what’s inside. you would prefer not to go out a third time by mercury poisoning, or go out a third time at all. you settle next to a fir instead, rich with fruit in bloom.

        surprisingly, there aren’t many about your neck of the woods now, really – save for one, who seems to be preoccupied checking round the branches. perhaps he’s merely scouting the area once over.

        you haven’t been in the village or the great white long enough to know whether you’d look like a nuisance or not: you’ve clothes fresh-sewn and fresh-wrapped around you now, paper you struggle not to litter with snow, no clear work in site. it’ll be best to make sure your purpose is clear.

        “ Are you one of the scouts? ” you’re convinced he is, but you suppose you’ll make sure. “ I’m just here to observe. There’s not much in this part of the forest, but I won’t get in your way. ” as soon as you finish, you begin to drift back to your sketch.

An odd sight, company in the woods. At least, company that didn’t seem to be after either resources or the hunt. He looks the boy over, the paper in his hand. It was a first that he’d seen out here, but he recalls the collections of paper in the library here -- he recalls scraps of leaflets and posters and scattered textbooks, diary notes, from the world he came from. He thinks of the newspaper, delivered every month. Perhaps that was it, then. He thought the woman who wrote it mentioned an illustrator, and so...

He nods. “You’re here to draw?” It’s an odd past time, one he couldn’t pretend he understood -- but it seemed perfectly human-like, sentimental and intangible, as they always had been. It was only natural that someone like him couldn’t understand, but...

@dowasure

  “ Oh, finally. I thought my bunkmates would never arrive. There hasn’t been much to indicate the existence of other people in here, so I almost thought it had been abandoned. ”

  Joshua dangles his legs over the side of his bed, smiling over to the other boy occupying another top bunk. There’s a light smile on his face, arms straight behind him as he leans back and gives the android a once-over. He looks… around his age, maybe even younger.

  “ Might I ask your name? It would be rather rude of me never to learn that if we are to be living together here. ”

9S pauses, not having expected to hear a voice when he entered the bunkhouse -- not even a greeting, no less. Not even familiar. Directing his gaze at the boy, feeling an overwhelming urge to go back outside, he forces an expression of disinterest as he closes the door behind him. For some reason -- he feels a strong surge of resentment. Of distrust. As if he was someone for whom that was unusual.

Sighing, he speaks up. “That doesn’t surprise me. The people who live here -- are mainly the type to be busying themselves out there. There isn’t that much conversation to be had. Primrose is likely the one you’ll see the most.” Though she was often out visiting her friend, or doing some other mysterious business that he hardly dared to pry in... outwardly, at least. Inwardly, he was always connecting the dots.

His blindfold…seemed to do quite a lot for him. Primrose wasn’t quite sure what he meant by all of those terms, but a general umbrella term of ‘helps for combat’ was what she gleamed.

It thus didn’t surprise her when he then asked her about her own experience.

“I know of the battlefield’s dances, though I would rather avoid its step.” It wasn’t fit for her. You were meant for softer things. Nor was it fit for him… or at least, that’s what she believed. “It must differ from your world, yes. I mean no offense, but you don’t seem the kind to swing a battleaxe around.”

Primrose sighed. She didn’t really wish to continue on such a conversation, and luckily for her, they had arrived at their destination. A rustic establishment, not too busy, but with a few customers even at this early hour.

“It seems we’ve made it.” Once again, she smiled, perhaps trying to soothe him or even herself. “Why don’t we go in?”

He ought to have expected it. There was no world without war, or without suffering... and humanity, however much androids wished they wouldn’t be, seemed drawn to the danger. He glances away, with a nod and a small, joyless smile. “None taken. You don’t seem the type yourself.” It wasn’t something he wished to explain to those who didn’t know the duties of a scanner -- the complicated nature of being ‘supportive’ and yet undeniably cowardly in their tactics -- and knowing she wouldn’t understand nevertheless, he keeps it short. “I can handle a weapon, but it isn’t my speciality. I guess you would say... my kind of unit is for reconnaissance, and covert operations.”

There was a nobility in the cause, at least, that meant their methods were justified -- and 9S, at least, had never been one to stop even if they weren’t. At least, that was how he had thought. That was what he had once believed.

       his words echo in her mind, ringing with truth, resounding with her own distinct desire to turn a blind eye. she wasn’t the only one seeing phantoms of the past ( wasn’t the only one full of longing, yet urge to flee all at the same time ). his words tell her he’s met with his own ghosts, be it figment of imagination or not, and although she didn’t wish to say, kotone seemed almost relieved she wasn’t drowning in this deep, deep snow alone. 

    indeed. this place, of blistering cold that shocks the mind, of ghastly silence easily mistaken for voices… it did things to people. perhaps some took the chance to face their regrets head on. but even she thinks, no matter all her prowess, she isn’t strong enough to mimic the brave of which she pretends to be. 

    humans were fickle beings with equally fickle hearts, and the brunette was no exception. it was this complexity that even brought some form of ruin, yet the reasons for any extinction were different for both of them. who knew both would come from space though?

    ❝ you’re right, ❞ she finally decides on, no matter how she wishes it were wrong. it masks itself well underneath that picturesque grin of hers, yet there is a glimmer of gratitude that shines bright against the blinding snow. “thank you— i guess it’s what happens when you’re homesick, isn’t it?” and then she pauses, gaze travelling elsewhere, across the expanse of the tundra. devoid of color as it is, suddenly a pang in her heart reminds her of the rainbows that island had.

    “in a place like this, where the scenery can get old but the experiences can still feel new… how you feel in response is complicated, isn’t it?” then she hums, that grin of hers friendly as it always is, crimson meeting the black of his blindfold. “some people just kinda wander around but… can’t imagine that’s all you’re doing?”

Homesick. He almost laughs -- the bitter kind of laugh that came from someone who had been through far too much in a short amount of time, and come out of the other side a different person -- or perhaps the same person, but with less surface resilience to hide it. He has enough concern about humanity to hold it back, the laugh settling in a hole in his chest where it aches.

He could never feel homesick for his ‘home’, if he even had one. But there was a strange kind of nostalgia that came with meeting humanity, talking with them, seeing them going about their lives, even if he had never experienced it in his life. Perhaps it was the sense of familiarity borne out of reading countless records, memorising human habits and structures and discussing their curiosities. Perhaps it was their search and preservation efforts of human artefacts, and seeing such things far more intact than they had ever been.

He thinks of their place of worship, shining radiantly, not covered in a layer of dust. No leaves sprouting from its floor. He closes his eyes, and rather than laughing -- he smiles.

     ruby has often been close in range to the effects of the elements via dust harvested from the deepest mines on remnant; a curious type of material unstable enough to release effects of the elements once disturbed. fire had been an element of choice for her own intents & purposes, yet as a young child always seemed to, ruby had rushed in to grasp what was not yet ready to be handled without proper protection. ‘ ah – ! ‘

     quietly, the ashes in her hands are dropped back into the piles from which they originally came, her hands a mess of smudged charcoal & angry red skin provoked by the heat of flame. she tries to simply shake the pain away without disrupting others also utilizing the forge, however nothing about a young girl flapping her hands in the air like a pathetic bird attempting flight for the first time screams subtlety.

     though surprised by his approach, ruby accepts the offering & allows him to drop the pile of ashes into her open hands. it’s much cooler than her first attempt. her hands most definitely thank her, just as she looks up to meet her savior’s gaze & extend her own thanks, only to be met with a mask. it startles her for a short moment. ‘ ah … thank you. guess i’m a little too eager, huh ? hah. ‘

He watches her recoil slightly, unsurprised. More often than not, this was the kind of reaction he warranted -- and he had made no attempts to fit in more with the local population, even if some time had passed since his arrival. In the end, revealing his face, acting human -- putting himself on a level where they could not notice he was any different -- seemed wrong, made something painful nestle in his chest that wouldn’t go away.

Sighing, those kinds of feelings can’t quite leave his mind, even if the girl was acting awfully foolish. “Yeah. What made you think that was a good idea?” Humanity was perplexing -- but their total lack of awareness as to their own importance and their own safety, somehow, only made the urge to protect them stronger.

He ought not to care. He didn’t want to. Yet...

This girl had no relation to the pain he had gone through. Even humanity, perhaps, was free from guilt here. In the end, androids had created their own lie. In the end, they were to blame for deceiving themselves, a yearning for humanity nothing more than that.

     her resolve is of steel. a2 doesn’t waver or flinch. she’s been through real pain, immersed in her own rage long enough to know exactly how it feels to be in the other’s shoes. she also knows that sympathy is the last thing he’d want as well. however, it is the same reasoning that drives her to stay right where she is, feet firmly planted into soft white snow, taking each word to her very core like a freshly sharpened knife. it hurts. but removed the knife would double the pain, wouldn’t it?

          she knows more than he could ever guess.

                       …

                         … . 

                            … . .

                                  knowledge is terrifying.

         ‘ you’re right. maybe you aren’t a good person. ’  that’s what he wants to hear. he wants to be degraded. he wants to be reduced to nothing. he wants to feel like nothing. ‘ not for now. but you can be– ’

It must be nice, being a 2 model.

     A2 smiles, bitterly so. she’s sick of herself, too. but more importantly, she’s sick of him assuming things.

         ‘ maybe it’s you doesn’t know about anything at all. ’  about me, about all the loss i went through.  ‘ …you think i enjoy sympathizing with you? because i want to feel SUPERIOR? out of all the yorha models, i thought a scanner like you would be able to put two and two together. ’

Stop talking. He feels almost as if he should beg, desperation rising up inside him, the only output he has being anger. I gave you your last chance, so just leave me alone.

It’s frustrating. Whatever stubbornness led him to believe he has no choice, he doesn’t want to repeat the loop that he’s created -- he doesn’t want to reach the same ending as before. Asking her to pursue her own wish wasn’t simply to provoke her. He was sure hers was more meaningful -- even if he despised that. He was sure hers would change the world for the better, if only she stopped interfering with people with the opposite effect... interfering with him.

He laughs. “You think that I don’t know that? You think that if you were holding it against me, then I would care?” She was on a different level to him, one he could only hope to reach. In the end, A2 is genuine -- horribly, frustratingly so. People like that, who truly cared for others, who didn’t do so merely to save their own skin... to give a good impression, so not to be alone -- I can’t stand you. “I know you’re a good person, A2. Don’t you think that’s why?” We can’t understand each other. We can’t agree with each other. We will destroy each other. “That’s why -- ”

Out of all the YoRHa models, I thought a scanner like you would be able to put two and two together.

His vision flashes red. His hand tightens around the hilt of his sword. In ordinary circumstances, he could have erased her in the same evasive, underhanded way that scanners knew how.

-- Resentment. Curiosity. Hatred. Yearning. Distrust. Loneliness.

Instead, he finds his free hand reaching up to pull his visor from his eyes, the fabric falling quietly to the ground before he turns to face her, sword raised, face contorted, leaping to stab her in the chest without any predictions, any calculations, any precautions.

“Don’t... don’t UNDERESTIMATE ME!!”

It’s nothing.

It was a sentence she told herself and others countless times. It wasn’t said with confidence at first, but knowing that her situation wouldn’t change, settling into her circumstances… And so, she slowly begun to believe it. The dancer wondered if he did, too.

“It is quite peculiar. I did not expect such protection to be needed.” There certainly must be a lot of differences between their two respective worlds… though she still felt for him. The more they talked, and the more she was reminded of the little girl who had lost everything, whose life was shattered in an instant.

“Though it is good to know your vision isn’t impaired by it. Perhaps we could incorporate it into your outfit, if you would rather keep it on.”

Primrose remembered the tavern and its seething atmosphere. More importantly, she thought of the support that Yusufa provided her throughout her stay there. Without her help, perhaps she would still believe her circumstances weren’t anything special. A seed had been planted, and it kept growing, and is growing still in the tundra.

Maybe a seed could help him, too.

He shrugs. “Maybe it’s the kind of enemy we face.” A combination of that, and their own capabilities -- the fast speeds at which they moved, and the disposable nature of their bodies, made their combat a risky game in the first place. “But it’s mostly to display the status of our own bodies. Maps, the current mission, visual lock-ons... but also our systems.” It didn’t seem to do anything of the sort, right now. It told him he was out of reach of YoRHa.

Back to the outfit, though. He frowns, before walking ahead of her a little -- wanting to get this over with. “If you want.” He’s tired of talking, and curious -- the nagging question in the back of his mind that will hardly hurt him, and might give him a break from talking about himself. It wasn’t as if he was willing to disclose his own abilities, but...

It’s obvious to her immediately, the air around both of them is different. It shouldn’t be, it should be like always. It should be normal and this chance meeting shouldn’t hurt, but there’s an ache in her chest as well – it stings and burns and tugs at her core. She wants it to stop, wants to return to normality, the setting irrelevant to this.

The way he hesitates, she knows. She knows they can’t just act like they did so long ago. When his biggest complaint was the sand of the desert getting into his boots and her mission pushed to the back of her mind, lingering, waiting. Just like then, she would rather talk about these carefree things and go about their day as always.

But this is different.

And yet, they are both here because somehow, they want to be. They wished for something. There are many things she thinks he could wish for, but she would be wrong to just blindly assume one of them is true. Her old self may have simply asked. Something tugs at the corners of her mouth, whether it’s a smile or a frown is unknown.

Then she remembers, yes. The Commander. He’s still waiting for a response and she has just been standing there, dumbfounded by her own thoughts. It’s so pathetic that she wants to scream, but it just comes out voiceless. She exhales and grounds herself, standing tall with her weight on both of her feet.

“Yes.” She answers dryly. But it’s the wrong answer, her head is spinning. Something isn’t right, nothing is right, why is this so difficult? Just like always, that’s all she has to do – act the same as always. She’s good at acting, she should be. “No. I’m awaiting further orders.” Always so correct, always following the standard operating procedure. 

She curses herself for being so dishonest and finally meets his eyes properly, albeit hidden behind the comfort of her visor. It pains her how weak and cowardly she feels. She clears her throat. “9S. I need you to check my system. Otherwise I don’t know if I can operate properly.” And just like that, she’s blatantly ignoring the situation.

She’s acting slower than usual -- as if she is hesitating. No wonder. He couldn’t expect seeing someone like him again would have no effect on her, after all he had done -- though the knowledge makes his body heavy, makes him wish he didn’t have to notice. A scanner’s curse, though -- his own curse, especially, it would seem -- was to notice, to search, to ask.

9S can’t ask 2B, what she’s really thinking. But he can guess.

He averts his eyes, before smiling a little. “Which is it? You have or you haven’t?” She was either confused, thrown off by the new environment, or lying -- badly, as she always did. Still... even for 2B, she wasn’t usually that clumsy. Likely, she was thinking of something else, then focused on his words again, realising her mistake. The question, then, was what it was she was thinking about. Always circling towards the same thing, what he can never voice.

“It’s fine. I don’t think she’s giving out orders anyway.” She had seemed disoriented as well, when he ran into her. Perhaps that was another virtue of being himself. “At least not now. She was concerned about her status.” Looking back to 2B, gazing at her face, he thinks of how the both of them reacted the same. They had both last been seen, by him, in the same circumstances... but it feels as if that wasn’t the source of the statement.

This wasn’t a situation where anyone came to chat, after all. They had all come in pursuit of a wish, abandoning their world. To run into people they knew... well, 9S himself had wanted to get away. He can understand reluctance. He can understand barriers.

     the flinching. it doesn’t go unnoticed by her - it violently drags her back to that day. grip around the spear tightening, she recalls the memories of her own demise in silence, how hesitation had been her worst enemy. perhaps she was never meant to show mercy, like her core wanted her to, but something deeper than the core kept her soft. no, it is quite simple… 

                                                         empathy.                      why would a soldier meant to die be cursed graced with that?

     to stand so tall and prideful when your sense of self worth simply doesn’t exist… how stubborn. how infuriating.how familiar. he must’ve seen it by now, how she doesn’t deserve to help him after what she’s done, or at the very least she hopes he does. after what he’s been put through, all the grief and anger… he deserved to be angry. their world is not a kind one.

silence.      no, he’s certainly not aware of it.

          ‘ i don’t want to deal with you, much less fight. you know what is going to happen if we do. ’  she takes a deep breath. perhaps there was a day she did. no, she definitely did back then. all the times he would come back after she had made his signal go offline, to hunt her like an animal for the name of a cause that betrayed her beyond forgiveness. but not right now. there is no hate here, and perhaps he can see sincerity within her dull blue eyes.   

          ‘ i don’t hate you, 9S. i don’t… resent you for what you did. but i understand if you do. what i did to you and her was unforgivable. but i had to. she was in pain. wouldn’t you have done the same thing for her? ’  

He closes his eyes. I know well enough. He would lose, as he always did -- he was in a losing battle from the very start. If she knew that much, then she should know that was the whole point. He could hardly defend himself with a sword that he isn’t equipped to wield, no matter how many protocols he had broken. Not against her. She seemed to know his patterns well.

Perhaps it was 2B that had taught her them.

The name makes his mouth feel dry -- the name implied even without her saying it. She understood nothing. 9S takes a step back, wincing again, his own memories dancing before his eyes. What good does she think will come out of explaining why? He knows why, he knows why -- he’s known since he saw red on that day, hurtling towards the enemy with only one thought in mind. If it was the last thing he did, was going to --

                           **** 2B, wasn’t he?

No. He isn’t like that. I’m not like you. Perhaps he had been wrong in his denials that day, but today, they ring true. He is nothing like A2. To put aside his own comfort to end the life of someone he so dearly loved, for her own sake -- it was too great a burden to bear. He wasn’t that kind of person. He wasn’t selfless. But perhaps that wasn’t all he was afraid of. He didn’t want to kill her. I’m not like you. He cared about her. You want to be loved by all. But if he came close, if he had to, if she asked him to -- if he had no choice --

To feel what she had felt... he couldn’t bear it.

To face the chance that he would enjoy it, revenge, hatred, overlapping and merging into a grotesque amalgamation, the bitter loathing for all of the loss he cannot recall, the chances he never had, the chance that it was what he wanted all along --

You’re thinking about how much you want to kill 2B, aren’t you?

“You don’t know a thing about me. About us!” Laughing bitterly, hands trembling, he holds his head high -- voice raising the more he speaks. “I’m nowhere near that good a person! It must be nice, being a 2 model! It all comes naturally. Not leaving worthless people alone no matter what, even if they hate you, even if they ruin everything -- why don’t you just give up?! I’m sick of it! I’m sick of you!!”

Who was it he was screaming about? Was it A2, or someone else?

Hatred pouring into you. Reality stained by lies.

He could imagine the weapon in his mind’s eye. 9S had never been a fighter, not at heart -- but to say he didn’t have it coded in his ‘blood’, as well, would be a lie. He wasn’t as skilled as a battle unit. His physical abilities were substandard. But his theory, the amount of knowledge he’d amassed about weapons -- whether due to being made for battle or curiosity, was hardly lacking. Humans had put more weight into their weaponry than many things. Even civilisations that were supposedly peaceful, were always... equipped for war.

From ashes, something new will rise. It seemed to be something humans here lived by -- but 9S couldn’t be so sure, even gathering ashes from the fire himself. He felt under-equipped, under-protected -- and there was little chance he had to remedy that other than with weaponry and training as he was now. He hardly had much faith in the concept of glass weapons, but...

He was curious. What else?

As the day gets later and the crowds thin out, 9S finally broaches the fire. It isn’t something they see often, aside from in explosions that fizzle and go out as quickly as they arrive. Warmth isn’t something an android needs, at least not out here. Machines, too... cold at the core, and little more -- beings that are one and the same.

Such a controlled fire, then, the flickering and crackling of the flames as they climb high into the sky, brings to mind archives he has read. Fire was the source of life for humanity, the birth of civilisation, evoked in many legends and myths no matter what the culture of origin. Humans stole fire from the gods, and brought life to their world. Birds made of flames burnt up and were reborn from the ashes. Birth. Fire belonged to those who lived. Him least of all.

He supposed most people wishing to help keep the fire alight would go straight to the source -- the wood, far more accessible, far safer. Someone with no desire to spend time in crowds -- the hustle and bustle of the celebrations already vaguely disorienting, so far devolved from what he was used to -- he made his escape, going on his usual wanderings across the Great White.

This time, it seems, they were looking for a kind of moss to keep the fire alight. It wasn’t what he was used to looking for. But if it would get this world off his back, then he would take it.

He wasn’t one to join in any festivities. It wasn’t something he deserved, to partake in a celebration -- but more than anything else, something that would once have excited him just felt like something he couldn’t touch. Once upon a time, he would have pestered 2B to go and participate, wouldn’t he? Somehow, he can’t even face her anymore.

Somehow. He knows the reason -- he knows it well.

It wasn’t something someone like him should enjoy, but he felt as if he owed a service all the same. To the humans that lived here, to the struggle they were undertaking to survive. Different to them by nature, without enjoyments such as this -- they would no doubt fade out of existence. It is far too late. He isn’t here to save humanity. He doesn’t care for them, he tells himself, yet... the tug on his heart remained far more complicated than he ever wanted.

aaand here’s an event starter call for nines! again, i’ll cap him at 3, castmates & muses he’s previously interacted with exempt.

tbh nines is going to spend this event being miserable and not letting himself have a good time, because that’s what he does! but he might go collect some moss or light lanterns just to be alone, since the square is so busy. otherwise, rope him into something and you’ll be good.