#devianthuntr

                                      『 ❝ so what exactly is your story? ❞ 』

▲;; @devianthuntr

     “We are going to get through this.”

     He repeated it once, verbally, and kept it on playback over and over in his mind until the words finally sunk in. There wasn’t much left for him to do expect believing the other that he was right. All he could do now was trust but in his current situation--

     “I don’t want to disappear.”

     Fear still wasn’t a pleasant feeling, wasn’t something he wanted. In this very moment he wished more than ever before that he hadn’t deviated. They’d found out about the reset backdoor. The possibility that CyberLife could just reset him at any given time should he reconnect to their systems and be identified as a deviant.

     After all this fighting and redeeming himself as aan ally, as a friend, all of that could just be ripped away. He could turn on everyone and everything and he wouldn’t even know. The person he was at the moment wouldn’t exist anymore.

“Um...” Granted, he was a little confused at this...erm...man’s, well, everything but in Ethan’s perspective, he felt there was nothing to be feared from him. He nodded and straightened up, holding his hands close by his stomach. “That’s...alright. But you’re right that it is late so if I may ask, why are you out here in the first place? I haven’t seen you around before.” As Lord, it was his duty to know each new face that entered Ironrath’s gates and this stranger fit the bill perfectly.

        brown eyes regard the other carefully. there is a subtle sort of caution in the action, calculating & self aware. connor combs through a set of social prompts, none of which seem appropriate for the interaction that had unfolded before him. it was strange, truly, to hear the words spill from the BB800′s mouth. androidkind had fought for a freedom that had once been denied to them, had fought for the right to be seen as alive… but the other words still resonate with connor just a touch too strongly for him to feel that a social prompt would hold the correct answer to what he should or should not say.

to roll back the clock would be to undo freedom; but it would also be to return to security. to return to a time when an android’s purpose was clear. when decisions were something meant for humans, when orders were given & taken without question. there is a certain sense of security in a lack of free will. there was no stepping out of line, there was no grey area. an android was either useful… or it was obsolete. to roll back the clock would mean that the other would go back to whatever life he had lived before the revolution. to roll back the clock would be for connor to know the security of the zen garden, of amanda’s commands.

         gaze shifts from calculating to something softer; as secure as the past had been, it was not reality any longer. connor did not want to turn back the clock, he wouldn’t do it for anything in the world. he liked being alive, he liked life. he liked learning & smiling & laughing & living. it is hard for him to think about the past now.

        “ i’m not sure what you’ve faced in the past, but looking back won’t bring it back. we’re here now; we’re alive,” a pause “… we’re free. “

    Freedom, to Lucan, was such a strange concept. He wasn’t set free. He ran away like a coward, and hasn’t stopped running since. Living with the Griffins, while he was not seen as anywhere close to equal in the eyes of the parents, meant he had a roof over his head, a bed to lay in, safety from the dangers of the world. Subjugation for Lucan meant security. It meant Sam. But that was years ago. Now Lucan stands beside this stranger, staring off into the distance as he spoke-- mostly to himself mind you. 

    “Perhaps you are, perhaps others are, but no one set me free.” Lucan said quietly, as though it were a secret he held close to his chest. “I ran away from fear years ago, and I run now, because it is all I am now. I’m not sure anymore if here is right for an outdated machine like me.”

    Here was the streets, back alleyways, dumpsters, junkyards, everywhere he could sneak into. Here was broken parts, stolen components, the ever present warning pop-up in the corner of his eye, even now. Here was instinctual fear. Here was lying to himself.

▲;; @upgrade900

     Chester feels irritation, anger, crawl up his spine, crawl under his skin like an itch he can’t scratch. He doesn’t feel like this often and he doesn’t let it show now either. He keeps his expression controlled, posture forcibly relaxed even though he wants to tense up, wants to clench his hands into fists to keep his emotions from overwhelming him.

     “What’s it to you? It’s not like you care, is it? Everything went as planned in the end, so just drop it, okay?”

▲;; @upgrade900

     Some teeny tiny part inside of Chester waits for him to continue. To say that he was one of those people, to say that he trusted him. But nothing followed and even if he didn’t want to hope that the other might not actually hate him, he just couldn’t help but do it anyway.

     So, instead of showing the other that he was kind of hurt, or maybe a lot hurt, definitely moderately hurt, he put on a grin, almost putting his arm around the other’s shoulders but then opting not to do that. He really isn’t in the mood to lose an arm today.

▲;; @devianthuntr

     An unexpected gesture has Chester’s shoulders tense before his thoughts catch up and he realizes what is happening. A hug. He’s being hugged. Even more unexpected are the words that follow.

     A tight feeling spreads in his chest. Tight but warm, relief, affection.

     He knows he doesn’t deserve the gesture, doesn’t deserve his trust. He hasn’t done anything to gain his trust, hasn’t done enough to redeem himself. He’s a walking time bomb, ready to blow up in the blink of an eye and he can’t do anything to stop it.