#ethrum

       THE FURTHEST SHE  has ever been to is space itself, the closest she has ever touched was the magic. With little to no surprise, her mind has always worked with quick responses  — should there even be a modicum of shock, the fastest, most logical instinct was to find out what makes it so. What makes a mystery what it is? Of a sort, that was how she lived, thus to see none other than the Moon in the flesh made her  — in a rare bit of giving up!  — simply sigh in resignation.

       Truly, there’s nothing she can do about him, or herself, at the moment.

       “....Of all people, you chose me,” she shook her head, a hand on her hip and her head lowered in disbelief. “Good grief.”

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"So, people took that place back up, to some degree - it isn't lonesome, is it?" He tilts his head, regarding the brunet: Archimedes, moon-bound, just as he himself once was (well, unchained from it, for once). Someone picking up the old, rotting tech, dealing in abandoned places, causing the blond to shake his head as he remembers a place without windows or other people. "I apologize for how unkempt it must have been."

Things existed on the moon before the Moon Cell. That much is known, the records of the Moon Cell aren’t shy of specifying an origin date and specifying when its information is imported from that of Earth’s humanity. Archimedes did not, however, expect to met one of those ‘things’. Perhaps long gone and now returned, perhaps simply a part of the Moon Cell and quiet until meeting its Administrator.

Archimedes watches the other, chin in hand as he rests on the table they’re at. It’s not like Archimedes sees anything in specific, but he is interested. “It almost would be easier if it were lonesome, but then I suppose I would have nothing to watch over.” Humans, even in AI, are a hassle... neat little programs would be easier, specific input to generate specific output. Robots without intelligence, neat and tidy.

“Hold still for a moment please~.” Nix stepped up to Crimson Moon and placed a strange sticker onto his front. It was one of those ‘Hello! My name is’ sort of things but she had written something on it for him. The name ‘Crim’ was clearly written for others to see. “There we go! I’ll see if Da Vinci can make you some kind of official ID but this will have to do in the meantime. Do you like it, Crim?”

What is this? Certainly not some fellow mage, no. Something here is amiss. It’s unnerving. And that is the delight of it, that edge of fear. Forever a coward, he will secret himself away from loud destruction, riotous fights, but forever a coward drawn inexorably toward the fearful. Testing it, skipping around the edges. This one does not have the fear edge of something that makes him want to skitter back, he has the edge of something that isn’t human yet wears the guise of one. 

Not a Servant. Someone with something wrong -- no, Belyi isn’t one who senses types of magic, only those shapes it takes, and he doesn’t have a sense of who this is. Just that his face is a little too much. Edges too defined. Something too different.

Tension ensured as the woman glanced at the other with an ice cream in her hand. For some reason, this person was not making her feel that great. An aura that she felt when she was meeting some dangerous individuals. But then again, Sokolova had to be mindful of her own actions as her work was not done yet. The deals were supposed to be taking place in three days. And so, she had to be on her toes to make sure that things won’t go downhill. The thing was, she wanted to make it look like she was offering something instead of checking her suspicions.