VΛCΩNCY

“I’ll have you know it is terrible for you,” Mi’Enasalin replied in the most convincingly wounded tone he could manage around a mouthful of pizza. “And it is entirely grease and cheese: disgusting.”

Still, he carefully handed over a slice - as a reward for successfully navigating slang, if nothing else.

She took the slice and looked at it seriously from various angles, before gingerly folding it in half and consuming it with alarming speed.

Halfway through his third slice: “Disgusting, and terrible for you on top of that. I don’t suppose you want some?”

                                           Imperial asks| accepting

Vacancy’s entire interest lies in learning from the species surrounding them. So their ideal afternoon is naturally spent in the presence of their guardian/guide of choice. Sometimes, they will use the time spend together to go over questions, they have formulated throughout the morning. Sometimes they simply spent their time observing their guardian/guide and on occasion mimicking what they are doing to figure out the purpose and process of the task.

Internally, Dacien curses. He hadn’t meant to give her an existential crisis, he hadn’t thought. He thought he was better with people than this, maybe he was losing his touch being so far from his clan and home. Being a figurehead did little good for one’s social life after all.

“Oh, no, that’s not what I meant. You don’t need a home to understand love, I’m just not good at explaining it. Love has always been something I’m…. not the greatest at,” he admits, somewhat sadly. It was his weakness, after all, he had always wanted to be better at love than he was. He just always fumbled at it, like it was something forever out of his reach.

“If you want this to be your home, though, I would be honored, Vacancy. But you needn’t force it. Home should be somewhere you’re comfortable, somewhere you’re not afraid to be yourself.”

“I’m not afraid, to be myself”, Vacancy stated matter-of-factly, “I cannot be anything but myself. So it is rather pointless to be afraid of the inevitable.” Looking over the markings in her pages once more, she finally huffed and then looked up at Dacien again. “Loves seems to be an awfully over-complicated construct, if even you struggle with it. Maybe we can try learning about it together. We can compare notes if you want.”

No parents. Spectacular; he’d collected a street orphan. The very thing he’d always needed! Still wincing, he dragged himself out of the alley, willing his limbs to work - no serious damage, at least, if he’d gauged his injuries correctly. Bruises. The busted lip. Maybe a sprained ankle. At worst a bruised rib or two. Nothing worth troubling the Twins for a doctor over; certainly nothing worth mentioning to them: So far as they needed to know, the mission had gone off without a hitch. They didn’t need to know he taken a beating, and they certainly didn’t need to know about the kid.

And what was he going to do about the kid, anyway? She’d found him in the alley, after all, so who was to say she hadn’t been close enough to be a witness to his work? Assuming she was telling the truth - and he saw no reason to doubt it, given how few parents were likely to allow their children to go wandering naked through the streets in the middle of the night - she had no parents, but surely she had a guardian to return to; she certainly didn’t appear to be starving or sickly. If she had seen him kill, and she babbled on to an adult about it, what then? She was a loose end, one he ought to tie up. Mi’Enasalin knew he ought to simply kill her - how hard could it be? Like snapping a bird’s neck. But something about the idea of killing a child rubbed him the wrong way. He was a murderer, sure, but only the worst sort of scum stooped to shooting kids. So what, then? Bring her with him? And do what? He sighed, rubbing his face, half-listening to the little girl’s onslaught of questions through the pounding in his skull. What he needed now was a stiff drink, a heavy dose of painkillers, and a long-ass nap, but he wasn’t about to get any of those with a child in tow. Never mind. She’ll get bored eventually. Or scared off, maybe. He eyed his little fish through an aching squint. “You ask a lot of questions, kiddo.” None of which he felt inclined to answer. “How about you answer one of mine first: are you quite certain you have no parents? What of other guardians? Surely you’re not all alone out here.”​

Vacancy fell silent for a moment, as she contemplated his question, walking in step with him, without even thinking about it. Somehow her snow-white feet didn’t get any dirt on them, the whole time, which was quite a feat, considering the amount of dirt piling in these streets. After a moment she said with an eerie finality to her voice: “I am absolutely certain, that there is no other of my kind in this galaxy.”

Once, that topic was dealt with, she snapped right back to her own barrage of questions, clearly expecting him to hold true to his words and answer them now, that she did her due.

Roland has a wonder of magnetic connections and why he was chosen to be borne in the present company of this Entity, but then he decides to think naught of it: for ‘tisn’t a true abnormality, his popularity, verily!

He sits up surely, crossing his legs beneath him; taking this opportunity to truly study this sentient sect of space, staring into its face openly. Her face? Their Face? Roland frowns thoughtfully. “Nay, that does not happen to me,” answers he. “I am humanoid, and thus granted the appearance and blood and bones of a mortal Being; and yet, I am naught. I am Roland,” says he, as if that is his answer to explain Himself.

The weariness of sitting too long in one place strikes his joints as his nap was hours long, and Roland cracks a sudden, powerful yawn; blinking sleepily. “Is thine Purpose like mine?” asks he. “Art thou here to learn? Hath I asked this?” asks he confusedly.

Her form began to glimmer again, but this time, it seemed to me more a sign of uncertainty, as she also tilted her head in that same questioning manner as before.”Purpose”, she asks, rolling the word in her mouth as if to taste it, “I was not aware, I need a purpose to be here. I just came, because I want to learn what it means to be. There was a time, where I just existed, but then I came to be and I don’t know yet, why that happened... or what for. Or how I am expected to change now, that I do not simply exist any longer.”

Dacien offers a wry smile at her observations. As unknowing and naive as she seemed, she was observant, he had to give her that. She wasn’t wrong to listen to Cole on the matter. Cole understood pain, he had to in order to heal it. And Dacien was often in pain.

“It’s not…. I’m not literally screaming. I’m merely carrying too much pain.” He sighs heavily and looks down at her, matching their gazes. “I… hurt those I care about when I don’t intend to. And I carry that pain and guilt with me. I wasn’t made to lead, much less lead something of the magnitude of the Inquisition, and the decisions I make effect everyone on  bigger scale than I…”

He looks away and sighs again. “I merely don’t wish to trouble others with my own hurts. I caused them myself, I feel it’s my burden to carry, my responsibility. And if I let myself forget, if I let the pain ease, then maybe I’ll do it again and I don’t want to. So I hurt. And the things I do to ease it when it hurts too much hurts others- hurts Halan, and I carry that too.”

Vacancy’s delicate face scrunched up thoughtfully, as she digested Dacien’s words. “That”, she began hesitantly, “Doesn’t sound like a very logical plan to take care of the pain. But I don’t hurt. So I have nothing to compare.” Infact, she had actually made sure, her observation was correct, by asking Cole, if he could sense any pain in her. He told her, that she frightened him with how he could not feel any hurt whatsoever from her. Contemplating the issue a little longer, she eventually reaches up and slips her tiny, icy cold hand into his.