#rebellicvs

Minerva found herself looking for the little boy who apparently frequented the area. She could only assume he lived nearby, but he had been surprisingly absent the past couple of times she found herself at the cafe where he always found her. So this time, she went for a walk around the neighborhood, deciding to simply look for him.

“Is it too much pointing out the obvious if I say that the harpoons are easily avoidable if you aren’t completely and utterly stupid?” Crowley responded, glaring at him a bit when he moved too much.

Bubbles rise from the floor as if the boards are made of water, not stone, the sort of thing that might damage an average man’s sanity—then water overflows and deep blue and pale gray tentacles the same sandpaper texture of a sharks skin twist and lash up from the ground. They wrap together, coiling, until they coalesce into the one being; what looks to be a man, tall with pale skin and black eyes that glint blue in the light, shimmering like light at the farthest reaches of the ocean’s depths. There were no pupils.

The elder god looks human enough; he hides his true form, the tentacles that spread in every direction underneath this layer of reality. ( those touched by the gods could, likely, see the shadow of what Auri’ell was. ) Observing the scene around him, he takes one quiet step forward, barefooted on the wet floors. For a long moment the being is quiet as it turned to observe Sargon, giving him a thorough once over before it’s eyes settle on his.

Miles’ legs were broken from the fall when the walrider dropped him—that much he was sure of. It made walking hell and he staggered more than he walked. Luckily he had a friend who had wrapped his arm over his shoulder and took most of Miles’ weight, helping him walk. It had been a huge relief, after Trager, to finally find someone who was—well, relatively normal, with no intentions to maim him.

“Help me over to that car,” he said once they were outside, pointing with a mangled hand towards a military hummer. It was early morning, maybe five AM, yet there were no birds. He distinctly remembered something on the radio about that, but for the time being he dismissed it. “If you can drive, I can hotwire it.”

And the man did help him over. The first task was getting the damn thing open but after breaking a window they did. After that, it takes no time at all for Miles to open it up and get the engine running. He grins—can’t help it. “Now we’re talking.” He said, and climbed inside, sliding across to the passenger seat painfully.

❛ &. ┊ Jaw is tight, teeth gnashing when fingertips wrap round the handle of a knife stuck in her ribs, tearing right through lungs & making it hard to calm her own breath -- she hates it, the costs of attempting to do what’s right, the constant pain & never-ending, restless nights. Knife clatters as it hits the ground, knees weak enough to give in, hands fumbling across the bricks of a wall to stabilise her silhouette. At least she’s alone when she curses -- or believes to be. 

Blue eyes widened in surprise at the sudden outburst as he was pinned in place. Yes, it was mainly Courtney’s fault for trying to push the topic about deviants, emotions and the like but he had never seen RK900 react like that before when he had made hints about it.

Taking slow breaths to calm his racing heart down, he looks up at the tall android, “I’m sorry for… upsetting you with this topic.” Probably not the best choice of words right now but he wouldn’t stop this now that the android had finally shown a genuine reaction, one that CyberLife hadn’t forced on him.

His breathing simulation has gone wild - making his chest heave - and as the errors that had exploded across his display consolidate - he realises the critical errors he is displaying. His programming had worked well enough to prevent him from merely punching his fist through Courtney’s chest - but the man will very likely bruise from the force he has used to pin him.

His LED which had been a burning red has deescalated to yellow but is showing no signs of turning blue - as he tries to process what has just happened. Courtney had been questioning him, probing him, suggesting things and they were things that weren’t- couldn’t- be true. He had wanted to... To stop the accusations, to silence them, to prove that they were filthy lies... He had wanted- He had wanted- and he had gotten angry.

His fingers uncurled from the fabric of Courtney’s shirt.

He was still surprised enough that he was comfortable enough at all to fall asleep - or in this case stay asleep - in Helga’s presence. So he tenses at first when he hears those words shortly after waking up but then slowly forces himself to relax again. 

He shifted partially back to his original skin in his sleep, scales being there instead of human skin and has to concentrate to change back to the human skin he uses around her. 

“Oh, I do?” He doubted it had been in a language she understood however but his expression was still curious, asking her to elaborate without really saying it out loud.

“Mmm.” Helga hums her confirmation, as she lifts her gaze to look at him. “Or - at least. I assume it’s talking - It’s not any kind of language I recognise.” She tells him, confirming as well his doubts about her understanding. 

“Unless you were dreaming about singing that is?” She teases gently. She likes to imagine he’d be a good singer - because although he’s happy enough to snooze around her - shared some of his stories - songs were not yet something they’d exchanged. And not something she was pressing for.