D: August 25 2178 - Tumblr Posts

Date: August 25th 2178, 14:00 Location: somewhere in the desert Status: @kalliawexler

The walk across the scorching sand did little to clear the buzzing thoughts thrumming through his busy mind. He had learned, through the careful study of words crafted into novels by writers from all periods of the past, that close proximity to nature seemed to provide humans with a reprieve from the stress they so easily enveloped into their daily lives. The endless hills of desolation did not provide him with any absolution; instead, the setting only amplified the restlessness itching beneath his stitched skin. Brown irises, unencumbered by the sun’s assault, searched the small group for a suitable distraction. Although it would be easy to simply fall into a trance of simulations and calculations, lost in information as endless as the desert before them, DATA found himself craving the careful closeness that only contact with likened company could provide.

His gaze finally settled on the familiar sight of olive skin and ebony hair, both features as artificial as his own. The woman, despite the close proximity they achieved on their journey so far, remained an enigma. Although both held the inevitable commonality of a shared synthetic nature, nurture had allowed them to become inexplicitly different. Where she was harsh, crafted with a dull knife to create jagged lines, unrelenting in the stinging sharpness she embodied in her own independence; DATA was soft, malleable in the manufactured morals he held under the authority of a creator. She was different, and the contrast that juxtaposed their broken kinship fascinated him.

DATA approached her with an awkward grace intrinsic to his being, stumbling over the fragmented pieces of possible comments suitable to initiate a conversation with the woman still stubbornly stamped as a stranger in his flexible classification of the Concord’s crew members. “Have you ever visited the Free States before?” DATA winced at the banal inquiry he had selected as a topic of conversation, perhaps he should have commented on the weather.  

pyrecoren:

date: august 25th, afternoon location: somewhere in the desert  status: open to all 

As the hours passed, the walk only seemed to get longer. It seemed that for Pyre, everything was going wrong. Glancing around at the crew, trudging beside him, he knew that it would be impossibly for him to hate any one of them. But now, it was hard to feel that when every conversation was leaving him feeling more terrible than the last. For now, it would be best to just let them all be. To complete his mission, as should have always been his first (and only) priority. 

But then, he glanced to his left. A few yards ahead, one of the crew had fallen, and seemed to be struggling with getting their bag back together. No one else around them seemed to notice, and Pyre sighed, quickening his pace to meet them. 

“Hey,” he approached them, leaning down to grab some of the items that had fallen into the sand. This was a part of his job, he told himself. He couldn’t let someone fall behind. It didn’t matter who they were; taking care of the crew was what he had signed up to do. There didn’t have to be any emotions about it. “Let me help you with that.” 

Slumped shoulders and sweat-soaked brows littered the mismatched crowd slowly moving across the unforgivable desert, marching to a broken beat of an unbalanced war drum. Despite the early hour of their mission, DATA could see the weariness of the heavy heat slowly seeping beneath the thin cotton sheltering the sensitive skin of the organics and hybrid crewmembers. They would likely leave this planet with souvenirs of stinging sunburns and mischievous sand, somehow finding its way into any vulnerable crevice. DATA, however, would find little familiarity in their grievances.

Escaping the suffering heat by nature alone, DATA was content to walk beside his fellow friends and bear the heaviest of packs. His steel frame, unlike humans, did not bend beneath the combined stress of the desert sun and abundant supplies. Or so he thought. His knee, a mechanical joint only just repaired weeks earlier in a routine inspection by his creator, suddenly gave in to the persuasion of gravity, buckling beneath the heavy weight he dared to hold.

Confusion invaded his gaze as he stared down at the crooked limb and alerts of the limb’s defection filed his vision. Bracing his own hands against the coarse grains encasing the landscape, DATA prepared to push himself back to his feet by determination alone. The sudden emergence of friendly cadence relieved any insecurity surrounding the uncooperative joint still stubbornly sitting in the sand despite his initial efforts.

“Thank you, Pyre.” Granting him a polite smile, customary to those who had obtained some achievement of friendship, DATA allowed him to assist him without argument. Without the obtrusive weight on his back, DATA was able to manipulate his weight to rest on the functioning leg as he straightened back up to a standing position. Once secure on the still shaky limb he would have to ask Theon to look at, a reluctant action that would only happen in the aftermath of a hesitant apology; DATA held out his hand to once again take the pack he had been assigned to carry.  

kalliawexler:

marching on, and on, and on.

There’s purpose to her gait, spine straight and shoulders pushed back. She does not match the exhaustion painted across the features of her crew; perspiration seeping from every pore and silhouettes stretching outwards across the dunes. Though they rub at their temples, tangle their fingertips within the knots of their hair, there is a substantial potential laced between each individual. 

They are willing, they are ready, they are a team.

To work as the latter was an unfamiliar notion; as a newborn’s first breath, it came with comfort, it came with caution. She is overzealous at every corner, doubts their abilities, but she does not kneel before the inaugural sign of strain. If she must survive alongside those of all purposes, then may she do so with an oath for success.

There’s a question which departs from the another’s lips; it’s unforeseen at first, not many seek the assassin above those with a radiating warmth. She croons her neck to the side, there’s a flash of wariness in the depth of dark eyes, quick like the spark of a match, before it deflates and she sinks back into her ordinary state. Though this an instinct notched within the pillars of a survivor’s spine, she reminds herself of her company. 

This is DATA; android of kindness, of kinship, of something so human. Their insides may be symmetrical at every corner, sculpted from durability and vigour, but the world has not crushed him into something harsh and tumultuous. 

“No.” There’s enough of a pause to wonder whether the conversation had ended. “I’ve never ventured outside of Wrotham.”

Too busy staying alive. 

“I managed to swipe this before we left,” she pulls a crumpled display of directions from her back pocket. It’s littered with fine print, colour-coded directions and still most are unaware of its existence. “Y’know, just in case they’ve got their own marketplace here.”

Discounted goods, she hoped.

“What about you, does your owner let his pet go outside occasionally?”

A quick nod pulled the bottom of his chin toward the vulnerable flesh of his neck, an obvious action affirming his understanding of their already ending conversation. Such a simple answer, absent of further explanation evident in the awkward silence filling the humid air between the pair, was impossible to be misinterpreted even when paired with the frequent ignorance DATA retained in regards to social etiquette. Fingertips danced across the warm flesh of his palm in a learned expression of discomfort, fidgeting with a frightening likeness to the humans that surrounded him. Yes, he certainly should have selected the weather as a topic of conversation.  

The map was offered as an olive branch, a way of scavenging DATA’s feeble attempts at conversation. Staring down at the colors coding various words highlighting landmarks and roads alike, DATA felt the feeling of confusion overtake his features. “Why would you wish to venture to their market place?” Amber eyes were weary as they studied – memorized – the map displayed before him.

A scowl overtook his features, lips crushed together in a downturned curve of anger. “I’m not his pet,” he spat back at her, the bitterness of his words hidden beneath the cool cadence of offense. “I can go wherever I wish.” The proclamation of independence, ill advised with the retrospection of a rational mind, were words of impulse. DATA knew he would be unable to disobey a direct order from his creator; but in the absence of conversation under the hurt still felt by both parties, DATA was free from the restricted regulations that often accompanied Theon’s concern.

theonwyndham:

location : ororidge, camp settlement date : august 25th with : @curiouscalculations

Trust me all the way Trust me so I don’t have all this doubt I just want to be I just want to let my demons out

The stars above them still shone faintly as the night came upon them, bringing a cold wind with it. Here in the strange world, time seemed to be slower. The night arrived, but the sun stayed. Time stopped, coloring the sky with strands of dusk. In all its brutality, Ororidge was still more generous than all the places he’d been too. After setting their place, Alyx and him, Theon could not help but taking a moment to admire the view. It was actually a nice change from Wrotham and the ship. Seeing a world practically untouched by human hands. How out of place he was, the boy obsessed with technology and robots. The camp was settling with a certain kind of domesticity behind him. Voices low, conversations were kept to a minimum. It had not been a full day, and too many conflicts had already erupted. They felt all small, in his opinion, under the immensity of the clear sky. Unimportant.

A quick look behind him told him easily that his presence was not required anywhere. Alyx was already engulfed in one of her encyclopedia, and Theon couldn’t help the small smile on his lips. He wished he could erase the memory of her from a few days ago, shaken to the core, so distinguishably not her. A small word and a nod from her part was all it took him to leave the camp. They settled near a small hill, in the hope it might cover them from the unforgiving wind. Theon slipped out of the captain’s gaze, used to be unnoticed. To be alone. Too many times did he wander through the corridors of the Concord, not a glance spared his way. He remembered how it never happened on his previous job. People always whispering, always judging. If it happened now, most did not bother to keep it to themselves. They mostly did not care about him. Theon mostly did not care about them also.

An eye for an eye.

The engineer did not spent too much time outside camp, though. The sunset did help calm him mind from the anxiety of being in close quarters with too much dangerous people in a potentially dangerous location. Perhaps, if he dared trust Ororidge, the feeling of dread eating at his guts would soon leave him. After what could have been half an hour, Theon made plans to go back to the camp. Turning on heels, his heart barely quit as he fell face to face with Data. “Fuck!” The swear, unfamiliar on his tongue, jumped out of his mouth. He took a deep breath, calming himself. “What are you doing here?”

Unfamiliar constellations lay scattered across the sky, twinkling in the twilight as the sun slowly gave way to the inevitable persuasion of the night. Soon the brilliant hues kissing the sky with the forlorn hesitation of a tentative lover would fade, the temperature touting an unbearable heat under the watchful gaze of the burning sun would give way to the chilled night, and the bustling sound of the busy desert would dissolve into an eerie silence interrupted only by the soft breath of sleep.  DATA would watch it all, as he always had - the vigilance of his robotic design allowing him the ability to remain alert when the rest of the crew required rest.

However, before he could succumb to the mundane routine of a likely uneventful night on the strange, new planet, DATA knew he had to acquire Theon’s attention. For hours, the crew had marched across the desert; and in that time, the frustration of a broken joint had grown to full blown irritation. Unable to be of use in carrying the heavy weight of his assigned pack, DATA had been forced to accept the aid of his fellow crew members to continue on their trek; his knee threatening to give out once again at any attempt of obtaining his previous pack.

It did not surprise him to find Theon on his own, staring over the vast expanse of the desert in the pensive melancholy way that signaled deeper thought. He loathed to interrupt the introspection humans so often required, but initial orders of alerting his creator to any damages would not allow for any hesitation.

A curse, one exclaimed out of surprise, was foreign on Theon’s lips as DATA came face to face with him. The flash of sympathy that shot through his frame was quickly overcome by the reluctant anger that still lingered in the aftermath of their argument. “I require your assistance.” The grudging tone that invaded his words advertised the obvious disinclination that still permeated any feelings toward his creator. “The juncture in my right leg has become misaligned and requires repair.”

theonwyndham:

“Of course.” PIercing blue eyes moved down on their own accord, looking at Data’s knee.The engineer nodded and moved past Data calmly, ignoring the way the android’s tone made his stomach churned. Why else would the android seek his presence if it wasn’t for technical support? Same went to the rest of the crew. He was just their glorified IT guy and the thought left a bitter taste in his mouth. He thought for a moment about what the Benefactor had asked, do you regret? Right now, Theon regretted a lot of things, especially being here. Especially letting them all know they could walk on him and just consider him like a young tech guy with no experience at all.

He wanted to turn on the spot, to apologize to Data and take him back to Wrotham. He’d be better. Theon would find a new job, a new purpose. Was it too much to ask, to come back to what they were? To wish upon the return of Data’s easy smile, one that was too similar and very different as Eli’s? It felt far, an unattainable thing.

No actions were taken, eyes kept resolutely on the ground, determined to make way to the camp as soon as possible. Determined to not notice how the wind played in Data’s soft curls or how is the jacket fit him so well. What was wrong with him? Such thoughts were not supposed to be had, especially when one was mad. Theon was angry. Because he was a coward and the words still hurt him. He never held grudges before. The wrongness of them always rubbed him in the wrong way, and it was better to just ignore everything than waste energy on such negative things. His own mind was already too busy anyway to deal with the always undercurrent of nervousness that filled his bones.

The camp appeared before them and Then could see Alyx, crouched next to Seneca. Their eyes met for a moment, a millisecond, before Theon bent to grab his bag, which contained most of his tools. He wouldn’t be a good IT guy without his nice IT tools, right? Opening the entrance of his tent, he gestured to the android to come in, following suit. There wasn’t much light, or room for what mattered, but Theon could make it work easily. His IBA shone faintly, orange tainting Data’s and his features. “Come on, just sit here.” The floor was not the most comfortable in regard of working surfaces, but it wasn’t like they had much choice.

Theon’s agreement, while not surprising, was much more easily achieved than DATA initially believed. Although his creator undoubtedly cared for his own creation, DATA expected reluctance to invade every action in the wake of their argument still unresolved in the absence of an apology. Their words, toxic on a tongue of hurtful truths, would haunt them with a relentless anger only involved when emotions ran too high; a feat DATA had never thought possible and Theon would no doubt revel at when given the careful consideration of retrospection. But such a catastrophe of sensitivity would not be reconciled by repaired parts and averted gazes, and DATA did not know what it would take for either party to cast away their pride and offer a plea for forgiveness.

DATA followed the tense form of his creator back to camp, artificial amber eyes tracking over the golden hair and reddened skin meant to be pale when sheltered from the harsh rays of the desert sun. Despite the anger that still lingered in excess within the overwhelming emotions he was experiencing for the first time, DATA longed to reach out to the man who encompassed his entire reality. Connections were slow to be made among the crew, and even when met with the hesitant kindness of those he considered friends, Theon remained the only person he could feel something toward with confidence in its certainty.

Hindered by the symptomatic limp of his disjointed limb, DATA tried to keep a steady pace as they trekked back to the familiar camp on the unfamiliar landscape. His only stumble resulting in a frustrated “it’s fine” stinging his lips in an effort to dissuade Theon’s already approaching aid.

Sparing Seneca and Alyx a strained smile as he passed her crouched form, DATA wasted no time ducking into the opened entrance of the tent. The confined space was claustrophobic with the suffocation of secrets Theon still dared to keep, leaving room for only the taunt posture of their two bodies. Straightening the offending leg responsible for his current situation, DATA would not allow his gaze to fall upon the familiar face of his creator. He could not face the hurt Theon would show too easily, not yet. It was only once blue eyes shifted to the broken joint that DATA allowed himself to watch careful determination overtake Theon's features.

Minutes passed under the tense silence neither was willing to break; until finally, DATA could take it no longer. “Why don’t you talk about him?” he asked, voice shaky beneath the uncertainty of whether or not he truly wanted to know the answer.

theonwyndham:

The damaged limb laid there, in his lap, as Theon worked Data’s pant up carefully. The skin was, as usually, flawless. Synthetic skin held no odour, nor taste, no nothing. It was pure, synthetic skin. Scarless and smooth. Even though the reason for contact was plainly obvious, Theon made sure to touch as less as possible, not wanting Data to recoil under his touch once again. If he dared, Data would noticed the trembling hands, the lingering touches. A voice in the back of his head, whispering secret desires and mad ideas, was still there. Remaining there, poisoning his reason. Told him to do it, to let go.

Instead of giving in to his own madness, his attention focused on the task before him. Though the horrible lightning would make it harder to complete the repairs rapidly, Theon was glad it could hid a bit of his expression. And Data’s. The air around them was tense, heavy. The silence was unnerving. Perhaps Theon had been accustomed to the incessant questions, the joyful words coming from the android had become a symphony he couldn’t believe he longed for.

Right. The repair.

Theon frowned at the limb, wondering how Data could’ve hurt himself walking in the desert. Was the suspension not good enough? Perhaps the engineer didn’t think the android would encounter sand in his existence. Which was short-sighted from his part. He was about to ask Data, cutting through the tension at the same time, but the android beat him to it. Why don’t you talk about him? The question left a bitter taste instantly and Theon was glad they were already sitting on the floor because he would have fell from his seat. He hated the closeness though. Especially now.

The tool was heavy and held in expert hands, it could do wonders. Unmoving and cold, it suddenly felt strange holding it. The focus of this meeting shifted, and Theon did not like it at all. His eyes went from the floor and up to meet Data’s brown hues. How could they own so many emotions? A previous thought, a realization, that maybe Data’s brian had rerouted itself. To become more, so much more. Theon felt nauseous. How could he explain, to someone who just discovered emotions, the concept of grief?

Himself felt enough ridiculous to still not be over Eli after those years. How could Data understand?

“I..” He tried, the words breaking in is mouth. He averted his eyes and let a hand down, pale fingertips playing with a loose strand on Data’s pant. “It hurts. Still.” Theon tilted his head. The pain had died down a little with the work that came from making Data. And the adrenaline of starting a new mission. But now, his mind was running out of his reasons to keep Theon from facing Death. Especially when he kept crossing paths with Cosima. Or those with beliefs that would excuse killing in the name of a distant ideal. Theon should be able to forget it, to move on. The nightmares were still coming, haunting and daunting. Demons in each corners of his big mind, ready for the moment Theon would give in. Madness was only was step over the precipice. Not so far.

“I don’t know …how to explain. I don’t like talking about it.” A poor excuse, that Data was probably going to point to him. But he really didn’t like thinking or talking about Eli. He was now a ghost, casted in the limbo that was Theon’s heart, haunting his every thought. His eyes went back to Data’s knee, the engineer now eager to have this finished so Data wouldn’t ask him even more hard questions.

A tremble seemed to shiver through Theon’s frame, making the heavy tool still hanging vulnerable in his careful grip stutter in the subtle motion of obvious nerves. Regret dug beneath his skin, spreading through his veins and seizing his heart at the sight of Theon’s stuttering uncertainty; all as a response to DATA’s unrelenting invasion into Theon’s seldom spoke of past. DATA had grown used to the weary eyes of his crewmembers, to the hesitation they held in their treatment toward him, to the avoidance some still engaged in; but Theon had always been different. Theon had never been uneasy in his presence until now when DATA’s mind demanded unreasonable answers to unwanted inquiries.

DATA wondered if he had gone too far, pushed too hard against the unknown barriers he held no context of navigating around. Eyes as blue as the sea finally shifted away from the eluding distraction of a redundant repair, meeting his own amber gaze in an honest display of emotion. Surprise tinged with the tendrils of hurt still fresh from a loss too far in the past permeated the gaze lingering on his own for only a moment before darting back down to the safety of aversion.

Stubborn against his own urge to look away, DATA kept his eyes fixed on the bowed head of golden hair. Something akin to shame seemed to follow the stuttering sentences incomplete against the grief-struck words falling from Theon’s lips. Calloused fingertips, so different – so flawed- compared to the smooth stitches lining his own synthetic skin, danced across the vulnerable flesh of his still injured limb. Silence once again enveloped the pair, and DATA wondered if Theon expected him to find satisfaction in the single syllables uttered as an explanation. However, before he could find the nerve to inquire further, Theon offered the placation of further clarification.

Eyebrows crinkled in confusion, DATA was unable to comprehend why Theon would not wish to speak about the past. He had familiarized himself with the process of grief, a word understood in the isolation of its definition, and the contexts under which most humans seemed to experience such sensations, and in every instance some form of therapeutic conversation had been prescribed. Talking about it was supposed to help - it would help.  

“You miss him.” His voice held the low notes of resignation, no longer angry in the realization of his inadequacy. Despite the permanent obstacle of death, Eli still held the potential to be the one thing DATA never could be: human. “You would rather he be here.”

theonwyndham:

”will you just think about it, Theon?”

“I don’t understand the point. Will it change your feelings towards me?” “Of course not ! Just- See it as a testament. Of my undying love for you. Marriage is not logical, Theon.” A sigh, the sound of the door opening. “Promise me you’ll think about it, yeah? We’ll talk about it more tonight. I’ll find even more reasons to convince you to marry me.”

Eli never came back that night, took with him a part of Theon’s own humanity. Left his human heart in pieces. His mother always insisted it was too sensitive, too fragile. Like hers. As long as it did not destroy him, she warned; protect it, cherish it. Eli’s sudden departure left a gaping hole in his chest, one Theon never understood. His heart was not there anymore, only darkness and emptiness. Theon was lost, oblivious to the ways to alleviate the pain. “I do miss him.” Days after days, the obsession of trying to figure out how his partner would have smiled as he gave his answer. What he would have said, in the dark of the night, bodies pressed together. Another memory stolen, inexistent. He had never been good with feelings, how did they expect him to deal with something as tragic as this?

Was it better not to feel at all? “I would rather be in his place.” A dangerous thought, one he danced with too many times since Eli’s death. Anger had left, sadness replacing it without a beat. He would have preferred to stay with the former, finding the fault in others’ actions, trying to find a way to make them pay, knowing he had absolutely no weight to shift the balance of things. Sorrow had devour him whole, though. His sanity gone, replaced by the same obsession as always. Desperate to find them again, those absent smiles and kisses. Theon did the only thing he seemed to be good at, he created. It was a bad idea, a terrible idea. But it had been the only one that kept him from joining Eli on the other side.

A mad scientist with depression. Eli would have laughed, probably.

Theon did not, though. Couldn’t remember the last time a carefree one left his lips. Data had been a blessing, someone to take care of. Someone he could not imagine leaving alone. Numerous times did he find himself foolish, to have put Eli’s face on his android. Some things were different, his eyes held less green, and his smile was more … free. Open. Theon felt extremely guilty, it seemed that his inability to deal with emotions had been transmitted to Data. He should have been better to him. A better friend. A better companion. Maybe Treia’s had been right, after all.

“But I’m not.” No, Theon was not dead. He was here, in this cramped tent, on this stupid mission to steal some code that would reveal some artifact that would save the world. He never realized the world needed saving; humans did deserve most of what happened to them after all. “I have you now.” He tilted his head, hoping the words would hold enough guilt that Data would find in his robotic heart to forgive him a little. Lifting his eyes, he offered a tentative smile. The android’s features were only illuminated from the light coming from his IBA and if Theon had been courageous enough, maybe he would have reached for his hand, or his cheek. But he was a coward, especially when it came to owning up to Data.

Affirmation of the emotions DATA knew Theon still housed for his departed lover sent a searing pain through his form. Perhaps he held more empathy than either of them believed, as hearing words already realized still managed to cause unbearable grief. Yet it was not the brutal repeat of pain DATA seemed desperate to obtain in every recent interaction he had with his creator, but rather the destruction of a fantasy protected by his own hopeful ignorance, a dream disappearing with the broken daylight of reality. Unwilling to allow such pain to play across his features, DATA turned his gaze to the fidgeting fingers that rested against the soft denim he wore.

I would rather be in his place. Head jerking up in a sudden motion, DATA had no time to school his features into anything other than the honest horror. Theon could not wish for the welcoming embrace of death – it was simple as that. The genius had too much to give the world, too much potential to waste on the tragedy of an unhappy ending.

Theon's words did little to dissuade the dark expression of grief overtaking his features, but his hopeful eyes and shaky smile provided the proof DATA needed of his creator’s honesty. DATA's stubborn heart, perfect in its mechanical rhythm, refused to skip a beat as it should have when faced with a fond look thrown his way. Theon did not have Eli anymore, and that is why DATA was here – a replica of the life Theon always wanted, distorted beneath the weight of things as they are, not as they should be.

“You have me,” he repeated. Watching Theon’s fragile features still crafted with a hopeful smile, DATA slowly moved forward. He could give Theon what he wanted. Already donning the face of his lover, DATA realized his purpose was not one of ingenuity but imitation.

Finding courage in his insecurity, DATA did not allow hesitation to slow the actions he had already committed to. Eyes shut (just like in the movies), Data surged forward and allowed his lips to meet Theon’s. A gentle caress, undemanding in action alone, moved over unresponsive lips until his ears picked up on the subtle sound of pleasure; and suddenly, Theon was kissing back. Clumsy in his own ardent innocence, DATA wondered if Theon had programmed this action into him as well.

It was short and sweet, but the sweetness would turn sour in hindsight if DATA allowed their kiss to be something of action alone. Reluctantly pulling back, DATA left only a bare breath of space between their lips. “See? You don’t have to miss him. I can be just like him.”