AI-COM/RSPN

(ง •̀_•́)ง

What would your muse put into a flower crown for mine?

Lavender: DistrustRhododendron: Beware

Apple Blossom: A promise

Pink carnation: Gratitude

Red carnation: Flashy

Striped carnation: Refusal

White carnation: Remembrance

Yellow carnation: Cheerful

Bronze chrysanthemum: Excitement

White chrysanthemum: Truth

Red chrysanthemum: Sharing

Yellow chrysanthemum: Secret admirer

Crocus: Foresight

Daffodil: Chivalry

Daisy: Innocence

Forget-Me-Not: Remember me forever

Geranium : Comfort

Heather: Solitude

Hibiscus: Delicate beauty

Holly: Domestic happiness

Hyacinth: Sincerity

Iris: Inspiration

Ivy: Fidelity

Jasmine: Grace and elegance

Lavender: Distrust

Lilac: First love

Magnolia: Dignity

Marigold: Desire for riches

Orchid: Delicate beauty

Pansy: Loving thoughts

Peony: Healing

Poppy: Consolation

Rhododendron: Beware

Pink rose: Admiration/appreciation

Red rose: Passionate love

Red & white rose: Unity

White rose: Purity

Yellow rose: Friendship

Snapdragon: Presumptuous

Sunflower: Adoration

Sweetpea: Shyness

Pink tulip: Caring

Purple tulip: Royalty

Red tulip: Declaration of love

White tulip: Forgiveness

Yellow tulip: Hopelessly in love

Violet: Faithfulness

  A hint at surprise, then confusion follows the Warmind’s words. The Warden shifts again and has to contain any outbreak of emotion beyond such a thing, instead shifting his attention over to the being speaking rather than the words, at least temporarily. There is a dull hum that resonates from the construct’s chest before he begins to speak again.

“I do not believe we speak of the same Guardians, Human Ancilla. What you might call a Guardian is, I am sure, nothing like what I am speaking of.” He begins to turn away from Rasputin’s frame, eyes continuing to wander. 

“The planet itself is not lesser, just those who inhabit it. A great many things are unknown to Humanity about itself. There is a history that precedes all living Humans, as the first were all killed.” The Warden’s head cants slightly, as if listening to his own voice bounce off the ground and echo around them. 

“This second generation- just as violent as the first. Just as childish and headstrong, nothing has changed.”

┠☼┨

  There were mixed feelings attached to what the being spoke. Overall, it did not sit well with the Warmind and he found himself with an itch he knew would only be satisfied with its departure, whether or not he was involved. Its presence quickly became foreboding and it scrambled Rasputin to actively think of another pressing force for him to concern himself about, especially when he was still entirely in the dark on what it was capable of doing.

  However, given the reality of time and the sheer magnitude of it, the Warmind had an inkling that perhaps it was not his problem.

@thelastwarmind and the bitter beginning

          walter’s head canted at the exo, silence and all. he started to wonder if the vessel even heard him the first time, or if a warsat was well on it’s way to crushing him without prejudice. when they finally spoke, however, it was partially amusing to him. it was one thing to choose not to engage in the easily engaging use of facial expressions as a form of communication, but it was a whole different thing to know that they COULDN’T use them, even if they chose to. ❝ so you’re saying … your face … is stuck like that. ❞ walter said half amused by the fact that a warmind—-greatest mind of all time—- couldn’t control the facial expression of an exo. ❝ what is that, is that uh … user error? or is it just broken? ❞  

┠☼┨

   Rasputin eyed the Guardian for a stretch, digesting their words with some rare confusion.

   “These frames have limited facial control, if any depending on the model,” the Warmind replied. “If I was among their ranks I would consider such an inquiry an insult.” Whether or not it was already one was not an active interest of the Warmind. He did not care to keep in touch with the social circles of the City nor their beliefs, concerns, or views. What he picked up along the way was all he had on hand, but that did not mean he cared.

   “Regardless, whether or not this frame is capable has not been a subject worth developing into a project. I have been told it is fitting.” White optics narrowed just slightly.

Sammy scoffed, screwing on the paint lid with a shake of her head. “Wow. Прогулка перед запуском, старика.”

A petty insult, to be sure, but Cronus still feels the words dig into his abdomen like a hungry animal. Hungry for his anger. He was a proud man, it was a fault of his, and he could see himself falling for the bait as he spoke.

He’d lived for over one thousand years, built relationships and lost them, through death and hardship, combat and peacetime. He’d fought for what he now had, and he wouldn’t be discredited by some cretinous Collapse-Era AI.

“Wouldn’t I, Rasputin? I’ve a Legion who would fight and die by my side without my asking. The fear of those who oppose me, the love of those I claim as my family. And what do you have? Nothing and no one. You’re an outdated technology, alone in the dark.”

┠☼┨

  There was something to be said about getting under the skin. As informal as it was, it still managed to prove an effective counter when the typical means of assertion were not available. Granted, the Warmind was fully capable of erasing the Guardians or, if he was feeling particularly malicious, scatter their remains, but he stayed his hand. There were the few hand picked over the course of the last couple centuries that he knew he was better with than without. Some were more troublesome than others, but, regardless, the potential was not to be so easily wasted.

  Cronus happened to be one of them, despite Rasputin finding it to be an unwelcomed reminder at the time. There would be a bitter laugh if the Warmind was able.

  “I fight alone, but I am not left in such a desired state.”

  “I would not know what it is like to have a world revolve around myself, for I live in one, but given your statement it is something I would surely relish.”

rasputin: