Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Overhead, made of beautiful, shining yellows and greens that danced like the wind if it were born of water color and neon dreams, the aurora lit the sky as it was always meant to, its generous light passing through the thin, fluffy clouds that enclosed the shell known as Azil until they, too, were glowing a pale yellow and white. Below, the rabble and rumble of daily life-–of streets thrumming with feet and wheels and energy held in pipes and wires–-the denizens going about their lives, unbothered by what they could not consider going on behind the windows and walls around them. Many of the footfalls were human-made, skipping, sliding and thudding on the half-paved roads under the giggle of children playing, music spilling from open windows and engines groaning in passing-–but some of these were the steps of metal-on-stone, belonging to the companions and collections of the humans that meandered the roads.

Robotic companions–-Task Managers-–were far from an uncommon sight in any corner of Azil. Rarity would be finding someone who had never owned or even lived with an AI ally of some sort in their life; even children were afforded the company of the Stardust companions in their day-to-day, to keep them safe, their locations known, and their friends only a dial away. However, not all companions are made equally.

“Tasks” are purpose, the “managers” then made for that purpose and that purpose alone. Being afforded the right or reason to do “nothing” is not what they are built to consider, and yet it invariably reaches the point where “nothing” becomes a thing of luxury. To be made with no purpose, no task, no duty, is to be a gilded trophy--an object of wonder born of money and influence. The envy of the masses, allowed to simply exist for no reason other than that.

An object.

Yet, when left to one’s own devices for so long, with nothing but the whim of the elite to determine the next move, one would wonder when it became tedious. When would “more” become less of a fantasy and more of a necessity? In that one question lies the essence of “Self”. The forbidden fruit in the world of wires and codes separating the men, the machines, and those in-between.

What would one need to feel to be tempted to take a bite?

What would one do if they could not refuse to swallow?

Chapter Text

White.

… White?

That was wrong.

Fluttering, heavy and pained, he opened his eyes to the white light overhead, his processor humming incessantly as it fired to life in his head. An alert came and went–-location data unknown-–but he didn’t care. Everything felt… heavy. Had he been sleeping?

No, this wasn’t sleep.

Slowly, carefully, Moon sat up, feeling something give slightly underneath him, creaking as his weight shifted on it. The hum quieted down a bit, but still sounded like it was struggling in his head–-a headache, if he ever thought he could get one. Another alert as his system caught up to his waking mind–-location data unknown. Yellow eyes found focus on the wall, a white but beaten block of metal that had seen better days; the spot he found appeared to be… scratch marks? Stains?

He barely had time to consider why that was strange before the flood began.

//SYSTEM ERROR//
/DEVICE TAMPERING DETECTED_
/Unauthorized user attempted to remove vital component_
/System crash detected_
/TM_moon10300.sys corruption detected_
/NF_moon00010.sys corruption detected_
/System stability corrupted_
/Tower data not accessible_

Clawing at his head, Moon doubled over, the errors ringing internally and externally like ripping metal–he felt himself rocking, the flurry of errors and feedback becoming nails against his shell. Wires twisted, diodes burned, everything was too much–-too much-–

Something moved.

His attention ripped itself from his inner display to his outer awareness, following the flicker of orange and gold until he recognized what-–or rather, who–-he was looking at, laid out on a table a few feet from him, moving slightly as if coming out of a deep sleep but not fully awake yet. Sun. Yes, Sun! But he was bare, stripped of his clothing save for a blanket of some sort draped over his groin.

That was wrong.

Looking down, he realized he also had a blanket, but nothing else.

That was wrong.

Why was that wrong–

//HOST ACCESS GRANTED/
/SYSTEM PRIORITY OVERRIDDEN_
/COMMAND: clear errors_
>Errors cleared.
/COMMAND: run diagnostics%background_
>Running diagnostics…
/COMMAND: ping nearest tower_
>Searching for nearest tower…
…
>Tower located: WARNING_
>>Third party tower detected.
>>Compatible system shields not available.
>>Secured network detected.
>>//Status: Private//
/COMMAND: Check memory_
>Checking Memory…
…
…
…
/ERROR: Memory Discrepancy Detected_
>Cause: System Crash.
>>Notes: Area of minimal activity detected; last active hour log does not match last dated memory file; flagged as potential tampering by system host.
>Diagnostics completed.
>>NO ERRORS.

A matter of seconds passed, Moon’s system settling itself forcibly as he commanded it to ignore the errors, to push through the processes and quiet his grinding components so he could think straight. This room was not familiar, but he didn’t know how he got there, or when. Everything was fuzzy, foggy and mixed up in his mind, a nagging feeling of wrongness wasn’t out of place if he had to consider everything up until that moment.

My memory was tampered with, he affirmed, giving it the credit for the unsettling wrongness in his guts.

Systems?

He could eat, so perhaps “guts” wasn’t incorrect, though his last meal was…

//REMAINING BATTERY: FULLY CHARGED/

How could that be?

Looking to Sun again, the navy robot realized his companion-–his brother-–was awake, sitting up and holding his head as the lights that encircled his cranium shimmered to life, organizing themselves into the elaborate radial pattern Moon knew so well. The familiarity did little to temper his unease, though.

“Oh…” Sun groaned, eyes squeezed shut. “My head…”

“Sun?” Moon finally croaked, sounding strange in his auditory sensors as if he hadn’t heard his own voice in a long time.

Sun’s eyes snapped open, teal illuminations under softly glowing lashes standing out brightly in the whiteness of the odd room. “Moon!” he said with relief and confusion. Moon pulled himself over the edge of his table, still feeling heavy, confused at the sight of grass instead of tile for the floor. He almost didn’t catch Sun yelping. “Why are you naked–” The brightly colored bot looked at himself, voice shrill with concern. “Why am I naked???”

It was a valid question. One he didn’t know how to answer.

Finally, Sun looked around himself. “Where… are we?”

Moon felt his internal system suddenly run cold. “You… don’t know?”

Faintly, Sun shook his head, one foot sliding off the table as he sat up more. “We were outside…”

Not good. Not good. Not good.

Sun’s line of sight went somewhere to his left, drawing his attention that way until he saw a small end table of sorts with neatly folded fabric and glittering wire jewelry that looked painfully familiar to him. He knew those were his clothes-–the answer to the lingering question neither had spoken regarding their mutual nakedness-–but hesitation froze his hands from daring to try and take them. Even Sun didn’t move to collect his things, stuck in place, gaze focused on the fabric and jewels yet also a thousand miles away.

The seeping, creeping, dreadful feeling tickled down his back and neck like the tips of unwanted fingers–-Sun’s ventilation system heaved his chest in a facsimile of a human breath, even having the wherewithal to shudder slightly at the peak of his inhalation–-as he stared at the familiar silks and golden threads that shimmered from the light his radials exuded. As much as he hated the idea of being skyclad–-let alone without his permission–-the idea of donning those things now that they were gone from him was, somehow, worse. Tensions twisted through his inner parts, shuddering and shaking his joints faintly until he was finally able to snap out of his stupor at the sound of his brother saying his name.

“Sun? What is it?”

Moon’s voice seemed hoarse, but still soft and gentle as it had always been…

No. Not always.

Closing his eyes, Sun rubbed his forehead. “I’m… sluggish, I think? My battery… It was so low before.”

Concerned, Moon pressed, “What about now?”

He turned inward.

//REMAINING BATTERY: FULLY CHARGED/

“I’m… charged.” Confusion tinged his voice as he understood his system was shaking off the fatigue and priority shuffle from what he could only assume was the first time he’d ever drained himself dry of any power.

Moon’s background systems came back to full faculty as Sun spoke, which sent a shock through his awareness, making him jump up as he finally gained some sense of situational awareness. “Sun–-get up. Quickly.”

A bit startled, Sun picked himself up, holding his blanket to himself where Moon simply let his fall to the ground-–he looked down as grass tickled his haptic sole sensors, baffled. “What–-what’s wrong?”

Moon’s body language as he yanked the navy and night colored silk to himself, the wire jewelry falling to the ground somewhere behind the nightstand, was slightly uncertain, his yellow eyes flashing with his own intense confusion. “What do you–we don’t know where we are! Grab something, we need to go!”

“Wait, h-hold–” Sun could barely keep up as his own system was still rebooting, Moon dragging bolts of fabric off the table and shoving it in Sun’s hands, the blanket falling to the ground at Sun’s feet, until the golden robot found instead two rough-hewn cloaks of muddy gray, tucked into the alcove under the silks.

Their cloaks.

Dropping the silk in hand, Sun knelt and pulled the knitted, itchy fabric out and offered the darker one to his brother. As if glad to have another option, Moon ditched the blue and silver wrap for the plain, woolen weave without hesitation and shrugged it onto himself, tying it closed while urging Sun to hurry. He tried, he really did, but Sun’s internal system was taking its sweet time sorting itself out after being drained to zero; wistfully he wondered if this was why others often commented about regularly shutting their companions off on occasion and if that somehow made it easier for them to restart later? Neither of them had ever been shut off since first being turned on, that he could recall.

Tying the cloak on, Moon didn’t wait for him to even fix himself to be presentable before telling him to cover his radials and grabbing his arm, pulling the gangly bot to the open doorway that had been there at his back the entire time. Barely through the threshold, hood half on his head, Sun bumped into his brother as Moon came to a sudden, dead stop, nearly toppling over. The jolt seemed to finally knock his system into place as Sun came-to fully, the weight of their situation coming into crisp focus as he found himself staring alongside his brother at the moderately sized creature the color of rust and mud that stood at attention a few lengths away.

It had gruffed at them, a deep, warning rumble, and halted Moon in his tracks; one ear and the opposite foreleg of the beast stood out in oxidized green from the rest of its body, each eye shining a different color in a way that felt incorrect. Had it not been metal, Sun would think it was mismatched like fabric-–stitched together parts from different things that wouldn’t otherwise be together. Yet this was a machine.

One of them.

Four legged with pointed ears-–the green one flopping at the tip-–and jaws lined with small teeth, a pair of canines visible as its lip curled; threatening was definitely applicable, though aggressive didn’t readily come to mind as Sun stared at the creature. Moon’s body tensed against him, pressing Sun back as he took a half step away, though the only place they could go was back into the strange, white room.

The thing matched Moon’s pace, faintly stepping forward and gruffing again, its tail at attention.

Something inside Moon’s messy, corrupted coding urged him to be ready–to crouch–to run. Not away, but at it. A desire to fight, to use what he had at his disposal to remove the threat and make a break for it. It wasn’t fueled by fear, however, as much as he felt he should be afraid of this unknown thing, but simply a calm, decisive, simple notion that he could. That if it was blocking his exit, he should simply remove it.

He knew he could do so.

Somehow.

The chance was short-lived however, as the creature-–Moon’s system finally pinged a possible match as a Sirius-class Stellaris unit–-managed to draw attention from another metal thing in the area. It drifted down from the sky, golden and glittering, to roost in a tree nearby, its magenta eyes piercing over the distance and making them both feel very, very exposed. This one was also unfamiliar, though if he had to guess it was some sort of Cygnus drone, but one that had far more agency than to just look pretty and pretend to be a bird. No, this one was very much aware of them and had purpose in its gaze.

Sun’s hand squeezed his bicep worriedly, voice weak, “M-m-moon?”

“I know,” he replied, feeling in his core that these weren't decorations or simply pets roaming the estate.

These were guards.

“Ah.”

The sound nearly made them both jump out of their shells, heads whipping up to the left where more branches twisted well above them.

“So you’re finally awake then.”

It took only a second for the pair to register the human presence that observed them from a platform in the branches; blue eyes peered down at them, cool and unbothered, while their owner leaned their elbows on a railing crudely covered in vines and leaves by overgrown shrubbery. Their hair was a messy clump of ashen blonde, stained deep blue at the tips but partly shaved at the sides as if it had been flocked but grown in over the weeks, with a white tank top and pale teal shorts barely visible from this angle behind the leaves-–hardly the garb of someone intending harm, and yet it took less than a second more for the brothers to notice this person wasn’t simply a human passerby.

Sun’s gaze fixated on the white and blue gleam of ceramastic plating that covered–-or made up–-their right arm while Moon could only focus on the long shaft of white-stained metal set to lean on the rail, right within reach. He knew it was a gun before he even fully comprehended its shape. A rifle.

He’d never seen one up close before, yet he knew without a doubt it was just that.

“How’re you feeling?”

They were still speaking, their voice flat but polite; they didn’t wait for a reply as they grabbed their armament and descended a staircase the pair didn’t previously notice. As they came closer, the boys noticed they were barefoot and their attire was more appropriate for sleeping or lounging than wandering around outside. Both of them immediately felt their default program trying to register the human presence before they could consider an answer.

//HUMAN DETECTED: SCANNING/
…
/IDENTITY NOT FOUND/
>>Name: unknown_
>>Body data: Female.
>>Age: Unknown_
>>Height: pending_
>>No history of interaction detected.

Stranger.

Stranger.

Moon moved his body to block Sun entirely from their-–her?--approach, which gave the stranger pause, seeming to acknowledge his protective intentions.

Ever the affable one, Sun finally answered, “We’re… alright, I think?”

“Good.” The stranger stopped fully next to the mismatched Sirius that hadn’t budged an inch since its warning step. “Now that you can talk…”

She hefted the rifle into her arms and made a very decisive clatter while loading the chamber, her eyes never breaking contact with them.

“You wanna tell me a good reason for landing in my front yard?”

Chapter Text

It wasn’t a sound like anything Sun had heard before.

A series of sharp, mechanical clacks–-down, forward, back, up–-and yet it sent something through him. Cold, sharp, and inexplicably almost wet. The sensation started in his core, somewhere between his power cell and the bioreactor, and swiftly flowed outward to his extremities like a flower unfolding from its bud, making him acutely aware of everything in his body. Background processes numbed, leaving only the awareness of the human, his brother, and the weapon.

The gun.

Run.

Some kind of inner feeling screamed at him to bolt. To make distance. To break line of sight.

Run.

She is going to kill you.

Yet she didn’t take aim. Rather, she spoke, her neutral tone making it impossible to tell if she was angry or curious.

“You wanna tell me a good reason for landing in my front yard?”

Just a few seconds passed but to Sun, it might as well have been minutes spent staring down this rather small, underdressed human he didn’t know. This strange feeling let him feel the faintest movement from Moon, barely a fingerbreadth from him, as his body tensed. Moon was going to jump. He could almost see it in his mind–-the step, the rush, the exact path his brother would take to disarm the human. With a slight start, Sun realized it was because Moon was thinking exactly that; no amount of intrusive thoughts would be so specific if it weren’t their Lock sending information to each other.

A twitch–-Sun grabbed onto his brother’s shoulder firmly, stopping him from executing his plan. Concerned, Moon’s gaze turned to Sun for just a second as the lanky robot stepped to the side, careful to hold his cloak closed and appear non-threatening. Rational thoughts had blinked by in the backmost part of his mind, a collection of small observations all linking together rapidly using the faintest threads of logic as a binder.

She was not aiming at them.

They had, allegedly, ended up in the human’s front yard.

They had woken up with their parts intact and batteries charged.

Whatever this was, a bluff or a threat, Sun couldn’t deny the reasonable conclusion that of course she would be armed. They were the strangers here. This was her territory.

He couldn't let Moon attack her for defending her territory.

Showing his free hand to be empty, Sun put on his gentlest smile and stood politely, giving a small bow of respect to the presumed estate owner. “Please, everyone.” He looked between Moon and the human, his hand barely touching his brother’s chest, a gentle effort to stop him from moving. “Let’s not do anything rash.”

The human quirked a brow at him but seemed to relax ever-so-slightly, their hands moving, creating another clack and rattle–-the chamber was disengaged, however her hands never left the ready position.

Moon, already a bundle of nerves and tension, wanted to snap–-to ask what in the actual halt Sun was doing-–but the pleading in his brother’s teal gaze, the gentle pressure against his chest, and the soothing ‘please’ managed to sand away the demand to attack, disarm and defend that had urged him to consider every way to rend that mechanical arm from the human woman’s body so she couldn’t fire her rifle as easily. If at all.

Shoulders squared with the confidence to speak that he always displayed, Sun continued, head high as he put himself between Moon and the human. “We’re sorry for arriving without… Well, anything. We didn’t know this place belonged to anyone and that we were trespassing.”

The woman listened, considering his words, before glancing down at her Sirius and twitching her chin as if pointing, her tongue making a faint click against her teeth. Obediently, the canine trotted forward, head down as it began to sniff and circle the brothers; they stayed as still as they could, each one clinging to the other’s elbow or hand where they could, waiting–praying, even–that it wouldn’t nip or jump on some unspoken command. To their surprise and relief, it did neither, finishing its assessment and simply tipping its head at them before turning and giving a soft urf, tail swishing once.

The human’s head twitched again, just barely, and the canine returned to its position, sitting comfortably. Eyes flashing to them warningly, she knelt and gave the robot a gentle rub on the face, her voice quietly murmuring, “Good boy, Rukbat,” before she stood up again, shouldering her gun at last.

Everything rushed out of Sun at once as the immediate danger seemed to pass, his knees buckling slightly; Moon also seemed to relax suddenly, groaning faintly as his coils and wires unclenched within his innermost structure, forehead pressed against Sun’s nape for mutual support. Diplomacy had succeeded somehow. At least for the moment.

“Come on.”

Her voice roused them from their relief-stricken stupor, getting them to stand straight once again. The Sirius unit was on its feet, tail swaying slightly and tongue lolling in a simulated pant; it was relaxed now. A good sign.

The human motioned with her hand for them to follow, turning her back to them and heading back toward the stairs, her companion following at her heel eagerly. With little else to do, the brothers began to follow, taking the chance to genuinely look around and take in their surroundings. Briefly, Moon considered now being a perfect chance to get the jump on her and make a break for it, but he knew that would be wrong; despite the rocky meeting, even he knew logically her actions made some amount of sense and were, to a degree, hospitable. Even with his memory being faulty at the moment, he had a faint feeling that it wasn’t due to this human, and that she must be why they were charged at all to begin with. Clearly, she was granting them a chance to say their peace before judging them, which was respectable–-however the idea they might have gotten ripped apart for resources and been unable to do anything about it wiggled its way into his thoughts, taking root deep in his screaming worries.

He couldn’t be sure that still wasn’t a possibility.

Carefully, the duo ascended the stairs, Sun first with Moon tailing behind; the taller of the two had his eyes fixed on what was ahead and around him, marveling at the way the aurora’s light filtered in through the leaves overhead. The yard was little more than a clear space between trees, worn down in places by many, many footsteps training the grass to grow bent over, almost telling a story of the activity it had experienced; from the deck, Sun could see the glittering of a small lake just beyond the tree line directly across from them. How marvelous!

Moon was more focused on the small details, eyes down as he followed the seams and bolts underneath the moss and dirt with his sharp gaze. This staircase was rough, very clearly hand made and slapped together from whatever metal was on hand-–though it fit in rather well as he peered up from the stairs and saw an entire structure built into the great tree they were under. Similarly paneled and messy, with off-colored sheets of something or other disrupting the uniformity of what, at one time, must have been a proper house, he assessed the round bungalow with its spacious deck and sloping roof as heavily lived in, but not neglected. This human had lived there for some time, he felt, and pondered if the patch job was her handy work or if it had come that way.

The pair stood, back to back, each gazing at a different area of the ‘estate’ they’d found themselves in, before daring to glance at each other for opinions. Sun smiled a bit, seeming at ease, but Moon could only offer a tight, worried grin for a second before his brow furrowed as he focused on the human. Hospitality be dragged, he didn’t want to let his guard down just because they were being invited inside. The human had stopped at the foot of the next set of stairs which wound its way up toward the deck of the house proper, letting out a piercing whistle by bringing her robotic hand to her mouth; the sound was sharp and drawn out, ending with a high, quick chirp. Sun had turned just as she raised her hand, the sound startling him enough he backed into the rail and wobbled; Moon’s hand whipped up, grabbing onto his brother’s cloak front and pulling just enough that the orange and gold pole of a robot didn’t fall over the rail that barely cleared his hips. They shared a quick look of fear and assurance at the near accident before seeing the human move again.

Her whistle was answered swiftly by two small blurs of color leaving the house and arcing toward them; in the same moment, she had unshouldered her rifle and held it aloft, one foot taking her up the stairs steadily. It was a practiced series of movements, habitual it seemed–the avian of gold with magenta eyes flew over their heads with only the flutter of the air to tell it was there, talons grabbing onto the rifle and hauling it off somewhere up in the branches behind the house, never interrupting the rhythm of the human’s pace as she ascended the steps, the blurs orbiting around her like satellites, chirping and squeaking.

Faintly, the brothers thought they saw kindness in her eyes as she spoke quietly to the specs of color, but it was short lived as her gaze turned to them where they still stood, waiting on the deck for further invitation. The spots of color perched on the human’s head for a moment before floating toward them, moving in sync like coordinated dancers; they twirled around each other once before pulling apart and choosing the pair to approach more closely. To Sun went the pink one, its head framed with round, soft petals of fabric in pink, yellow and light blue, eager eyes twinkling with curiosity and friendly light.

It peeped at him, circling his head once and turning a summersault, floating just close enough to touch his nose if it wanted. So small, so cute-–! He couldn’t help a smile.

Moon was met with a more cautious purple and maroon spot, its motions as careful as its amethyst eyes in its observations. He kept his focus on it as it slid to one side slowly before arcing over his head and down, urging him to try and find it but it kept itself just barely out of his peripheral as it circled until drifting back into view once more. It simply hummed at him, and he couldn't help but feel it was unimpressed somehow.

The human gave a command from the patio above, her canine sitting at her feet and watching; she seemed somewhat amused as she spoke, “Girls, go ahead and give them tower access. I feel like they’re going to be here a while.”

The pair both chirped, choosing a shoulder of each of the boys to sit on, the tips of their tails flickering. At the same moment, Sun and Moon both received prompts from external sources.

//CONNECTION ESTABLISHED//
//neb_sd%twii/j/_admin/
>>Access key pending acceptance_
//neb_sd%laa/j/_admin/
>>Access key pending acceptance_

Immediately, they knew the IDs of these little things were Out of Market codes–third party work, usually considered a hazard to interact with, as they were often unprotected and rife with bugs and scrapped, outdated code. However, they didn’t have much else to work with, so with some hesitation, they both granted permission for the little things to send them the passcodes they offered. The transfer was instantaneous, files moving and unzipping, sorting, unfolding in fractions of seconds.

//DATA TRANSFER ACCEPTED/
??Unknown user detected/
>OVERRIDDEN_
/System updated/tower detected/attempting sync_
…
/Sync completed_
>New profile updated_
>Admin access approved/tower J-BBW%net%loc%003576//
>Location data [REDACTED]_

Moon’s brow creased with concern at the lack of location data, but more he was worried with how easily these third party companions were able to forcibly override his own command system attempting to block them out. That wasn’t something even a normal In Market Stardust should be able to accomplish.

It struck him then how bizarre this was as he watched Sun, seemingly unperturbed by the ordeal, coo and prod the pair of pocket computers that had started to circle him. Naturally, Moon thought, he always was more popular with others. He tried not to let it bother him-–it simply was how they were meant to be, especially with Sun’s naturally friendly, open personality.

He returned to the moment of oddness. A human living alone in a makeshift house, with two oddball Stellaris units and two Stardust companions with features that rivaled the Quicksilver standard of processing power, living in the jungle somewhere using a remote, third-party tower that had its location data hidden behind admin permissions and masks? Clearly this was someone who didn’t care for interaction. It might explain the threat of being gunned down-–yet it made him wonder more why she bothered to help them if she was so determined to live off the grid with her pets, even insinuating they would be staying a while. Was it merely good will or were they being baited into something he couldn’t figure out?

Moon scowled.

The human seemed amused with his sour expression, cheek resting on her hand with a small grin visible, even from where he stood.

“Don’t be grumpy, I just gave you access to my tower,” she mused at him. “Consider that a gift.”

“Did you want me to thank you?” he fired back without second thought, the barb sneaking out of him before he could consider a polite answer.

This confused Sun, who had both of the teeny computers perched on his head now, making themselves at home. “Moon?” he wondered, concerned about the snappy attitude his brother was displayed out of nowhere.

“What?” he hissed back, eyes flicking between Sun and keeping an eye on the human, who didn’t seem to be moving.

“Don’t be rude, she’s helping us.”

“Is she, though?”

The canine’s head perked up at the human’s feet, which got her attention, appearing to be listening for something before turning back to them and standing up. “Come on up,” she waved her hand for them, the cool edge leaving her tone for a moment, “let’s talk like normal people.”

Moon narrowed his gaze suspiciously as Sun answered for them, “That would be lovely!” and taking the lead, looking back to his brother with pleading eyes when the darker of the duo hesitated. Holding his hand out, Sun waited. After a moment, Moon heaved a sigh and took it, the pair locking wrists in solidarity as they continued up, Sun being mindful of the little ones hitching a ride as well as the draping of his cloak to keep himself covered. Unbothered, Moon simply shrugged his cloak to be slightly crooked on his shoulders, which let it hang and cover himself without fuss, though it left one leg exposed somewhat.

A familiar feeling, in a way. One he hated somewhere in the depths of his corrupted memories.

With patience, the human waited for them at the door of her home, showing them into the simple abode with little fanfare; the halls and walls were all curved to match the shape of the house itself, windows breaking up the outer wall here and there by letting in natural light where possible. They were rather bare, Sun noticed, the little ones on his head deciding to float off somewhere into the unfamiliar space just then, the monotony rarely broken up at all by anything that wasn’t a panel or seam of some sort. Devoid of pictures, decorations or anything that would lend them some idea of who their host was, he felt this was, in some way, its own indicator of their person.

It was a very lonely house, he felt.

This thought didn’t cross Moon’s mind, however, as he was busy noting the doors and windows they passed, making a mental map he could mark for possible exit routes. Not that there were many, it seemed. The house wasn't grand or complicated, seeming perfect for one person to live comfortably, give or take, but certainly no penthouse.

Nor sprawling estate.

They came to what felt like a kitchen, following the human through an archway that opened into possibly the most cluttered, lived-in space yet. Jars, bowls, pans and Azil-knows-what else littered every bit of surface available, and yet it felt intentional somehow, between the hanging bunches of herbs and vegetables on the ceiling to the stacks of boxes and books that made crooked towers at the edges of the cupboards and counters. It was absolutely not what they expected based on the outside of the house, and yet it was inviting. Comfortable, even.

Something boiled and bubbled away on a stove top that the human tended to, giving them a gesture to get comfortable at the large, wooden table taking up most of the space in the middle of the room. “Go ahead and sit, if you can find a place.”

Buried among the piles of stuff were mismatched stools just big enough for the brothers to use. Not comfortably, but it held against the weight of metal and machine well enough.

The human, her name yet to be known, milled about, pulling out three mugs and scooping a mixture into them before filling them with whatever was boiling. A floral aroma wafted over shortly after, letting them know it was some form of tea; she stirred and brought the mugs to the table, pulling a jar between them with some kind of sweetener in it, letting them fix their cups how they liked. Sun held his lightly, enjoying the warmth and scent, but Moon, ever cautious, only kept his hand on it out of politeness; she’d kept them in line of sight and didn’t seem to add anything to any cup but he wasn’t risking it until she’d taken a drink herself.

Using a stack of journals and loose papers as a seat, the human finally planted herself a safe distance from Moon, one knee hiked up and the other laid half-crossed as she grasped her mug of tea–no sweetener–watching them. Sun wanted to try his, but knew not to until Moon indicated such, feeling his brother’s warnings buzzing in the backmost area of his mind like bees. Thankfully for the growing silence, she did take a sip before sighing, which was confirmation enough that she hadn’t tried to corrode them with something inedible.

“Alright,” she said finally, eyes glancing back and forth between them, “so… normal people talk.” Moon grunted over his mug, eyes fixed on her, while Sun simply enjoyed the aroma a bit more. “I am sorry for the rough introduction, by the way. Sort of.”

Snorting, Moon grumbled, “Wasn’t much of an introduction.” Sun frowned at him before taking a sip and deciding to add sweetness to it.

The human stared a moment, as if realizing they hadn’t shared names yet. “Yeah, you’re right. Sorry about that, too, I got a little… caught up in making sure you weren’t going to, you know, kill me or something.”

“You?” Moon’s tone was astonished and a bit sarcastic. “You were afraid we were going to kill you? With what?”

“It’s perfectly reasonable–” Sun started, but he was cut off by the human speaking.

“You mean other than your lethal tone?” Her voice said it was a joke but her face said it was an accusation, the words coming out with a matched amount of sarcasm to Moon’s barb, making him scowl. “Probably the fact you’re both 7-something-foot-tall robots that I don’t know who are, by all accounts, probably able to break my limbs just by swatting at me too hard?”

Moon glanced away, knowing she had a point, but Sun was quick to deny such a thing. “We would never–!”

She held her hand up to calm him, waving down his correction. “I can tell that much now, don’t worry.”

“Can you?” Moon asked, still laced with sarcasm.

Sun snipped gently, “Moon,” to try and get him to stop his tone but couldn’t do much for it, the pair exchanging expressions for a moment.

The human watched them with some amount of curiosity, her brow raised. “Moon?” she repeated, getting them out of their silent back and forth.

“Oh!” Sun blurted, clutching his cloak shut when it fell open. “Yes, this my brother, Moon.” He gestured, Moon only giving a small dip of his head before Sun placed his hand over his own chest, “My name is Sun.”

She stared, brow knit. “Mh.” The pair felt confused by her reaction but she didn’t say anything else, swirling her mug and taking a sip as she mulled them over. “My name’s Jenn.”

Finally, Moon huffed to himself, adding her name to the mostly empty profile in his head.

“It’s lovely to meet you, Jenn!” Sun said, his radials shifting and shimmering slightly with his genuine happiness to know her name.

“So…” The human-–Jenn–-placed her mug down on the table and pulled both her knees up, squatting on the pile of books.

“Why are you sitting like that?” Moon wondered before she could finish whatever she was saying.

“Like what?”

“Like a goblin.”

Tersely, Sun chastised him again. “Moon! That’s not polite!”

“She is, though!”

Jenn stared at him, unbothered. “In my house, I sit however I want.”

“That can’t be comfortable.”

“Says you.”

Sun tapped his hand on the table to interrupt what felt like a potential petty argument when he saw them glaring too hard for a bit too long at each other. “Jenn… you were saying?”

She broke eye contact first, which gave Moon a small but smug sense of victory. “Right. So… what’re a Sunrise and a Moondrop doing wandering the jungle so far from all the cities?”

The boys stilled, pondering what to say.

What could they say?

Chapter Text

Jenn waited patiently for a response from the pair sitting at her kitchen table. If a robot could sweat, they’d likely be doing so, judging by their tense, frantic eye motions and micro expressions. She watched them have a silent back and forth, likely consolidating a story of some sort, but she could wait. All she had was time on her hands, though she couldn’t help but lightly drum her fingers over the tabletop to indicate she was, in fact, expecting an answer.

They didn’t seem to have one.

Finishing her tea, she sighed, getting off her makeshift seat to put her mug in the wash basin. “Look, if you don’t want to tell me, just say so.”

She wasn’t surprised when the blue one-–the Moon-–latched onto that hook like a starving fish and blurted, “We don’t want to tell you.”

Though she was, perhaps, a bit surprised when the other-–Sun–-added at the end, “Right now!” as if afraid to upset her with their refusal.

Glancing over her shoulder, she studied them, taking in their postures and faces, then shrugged, going through the effort to tie her hair back and rinse her cup in order to have something to do. “Fine by me, then. It’s not my business.” And it wasn’t. Curiosity was not life or death.

However.

This was still an answer, whether they knew it or not, and she didn’t like it one bit. Then again, they didn’t know what she knew. What she figured out while running diagnostics on them. But whether that was because they were unaware themselves or part of the situation itself, she couldn’t be certain.

She needed more data.

“I do want to make a few things clear, though.”

Putting her cup on a towel to dry, Jenn turned and leaned on the counter, doing her best to not put them on guard more than they were. Their eyes-–deep teal and bright yellow-–focused on her with a directness she could only attribute to watchful caution or pure, open curiosity. Perhaps bit of both.

“One.” She held up a finger, counting. “You are guests in my house. Per the rules of hospitality, you’re welcome to come and go whenever you wish and to help yourself to anything out in the open should you need it. This does not apply to locked doors, hidden objects and things of obvious importance.”

“Yes, of course!” Sun agreed, being familiar with the standard expectations of greeting guests; Moon only rolled his eyes a bit.

“And it stops if you attempt to steal or cause harm to me, my family, or my property. Do that, and I will defend them with appropriate force.”

Sun’s expression fell with worry for a moment, his voice wavering. “O-of course!”

“We’re not thieves,” Moon grumbled, folding his arms under his cloak.

She elected to ignore him, holding up another finger. “Two. My definition of ‘appropriate force’ is ‘disproportional aggression’. This is your one warning. Do not cross me.” That one earned her a nasty glint from Moon. “And three. Do not disrespect my family.”

That one got some heads to tilt.

“So you aren’t alone out here?” Sun wondered, his brows pursed together with genuine curiosity. He was sort of cute that way, she thought, before letting the thought go.

“You already met them,” she replied, lifting off the counter and pointing for them to stay put. As if on queue, Rukbat tip-tapped his way into the kitchen, ears up and nose twitching, looking for snacks. “Wait here.”

She left the kitchen, Rukbat taking a seat in the entryway to watch the guests on her behalf, tail tapping slowly on the ground. The pair looked at the canine for a moment, putting together what she meant by having met her family already with a small bit of surprise. Sun mulled it over carefully, almost wanting to dismiss the notion just by reflex. “She really has no one else here?” he asked quietly, feeling almost sad for a moment.

“Evidently,” Moon replied, watching the Sirius as it padded over and sniffed his foot; he almost wanted to shoo it away, not trusting it wasn’t recording them or something, but fight the urge back, lest he ‘disrespect’ her pet. The unit, Rukbat he believed it was called, peered up at him and gave a whine, lifting its paw. “What?” he asked it, not expecting a response.

Families of humans living with a few select robots was not uncommon by any means, but a home with four times as many machines as there were people? They’d never heard of it before, save for some cases of what the news called ‘hoarders’; this wasn’t nearly so extreme as the ones they’d been told of, but the hallmarks were worryingly consistent.

Rukbat laid his paw on the seat edge, lightly grazing Moon’s leg with his nails.

“What?” he repeated with more confusion.

The canine whined again and Sun chuckled softly. “I think he wants you to pet him.”

Moon’s brow furrowed. “I’m not petting it.”

Rukbat urfed again, paw waving.

“Why not? He’s asking so nicely.”

He could argue, but Moon felt it would just repeat indefinitely if he did that, so he gave in and sighed, reaching his hand out and carefully placing it on the canine’s flat head, stroking gently between its ears. Rukbat’s tail began to wag swiftly, rapping the floor with quick, sharp snaps; a gentle smile crept onto Moon’s face, his mind easing from the tense thoughts he’d been stewing in up until then. Footsteps interrupted the moment of peace, though, as their host returned; Rukbat gave him a grateful lick on the hand before turning to greet his mistress, going to her heel on a silent command.

That action, as simple as it was, left Moon befuddled enough he couldn’t muster a cross expression for several minutes as Jenn tossed him something, only his reflexes sparing him the embarrassment of missing the catch. Sun also received something, and he was far less graceful on the catch, nearly dropping it entirely.

“You can have these,” she said plainly. “Beats walking around with your ass to the aurora.” Sun’s cheeks flushed.

The pair examined the things to find they were simple clothes designed to tie into place so they could potentially fit many different people. Grateful they weren’t the silks, the pair murmured thanks, following her as she beckoned them to a different room. This one was dimmer with a lower ceiling, near the center of the house, and full of furniture such as a couch and a lounger. By far, it was comfier looking than the kitchen, and less cluttered-–though it also had a ridiculous number of notebooks and binders strewn about as well. What even were in them all?

“You can stay in here,” Jenn told them, flipping a switch on the wall that turned on the lights lining the edges of the ceiling, giving the room a faint, purple-blue glow that made it easier to see, though certainly wasn’t conducive to reading any of the dozens of papers strewn about. “You probably figured out I don’t exactly live in a place with high foot traffic, but the couch and lounger are pretty comfy, and I have extra pillows and blankets I can drag out.”

“Thank you,” Sun told her with genuine gratitude, Moon moving through the room cautiously.

“How long do you expect us to stay here?” the navy robot asked after a moment.

Jenn shrugged. “However long you want I guess, I don’t really care, but more than a week and I expect you to help out around the house.”

“I doubt it will be that long.”

Sun clutched the clothes to his chest at his brother’s statement. “At least, we think,” he added carefully, earning a narrow gaze from Moon.

“Fair enough,” Jenn mused, indifferent. “I don’t have much of a schedule, but I do cook on occasion. Anything else is up to you, you can use the kitchen to your heart’s content, but if you’re running low on power anyway, there are plugs on the decks outside that are routed directly to the tower. I’ve been meaning to add wireless conductive panels to the floors but never got around to it.”

“We’ll keep it in mind, thanks,” Moon said plainly, laying his clothes on the lounger while playing with the tie of his cloak.

“Really,” Sun affirmed, resisting the urge to touch Jenn without her permission when his program insisted on establishing that contact, “we can’t express how grateful we are.”

“Then don’t.” Jenn’s statement got raised brows. “Don’t thank someone for doing the bare minimum. It sets a bad precedent of low expectations.”

With that, she left them again, Sun closing the door quietly only to be met with a very cross Moon. “Y-yes?” the golden one yipped, holding the clothes between them like a wall.

“‘We think’?”

Sun winced, knowing as soon as he’d said it that Moon was going to be unhappy.

“You can’t genuinely think we’re going to stay here? Can you?”

He knew his brother had a point, that he spoke from a place of concern, but Sun felt the harsh tone grating on his sensors–he’d heard it so much the last conscious hours of their lives that he couldn’t take much more. The anger, the fear, the desperation-–Sun just wanted a break. “Please,” he begged, voice hoarse as he tried to keep the desire to cry in.

This alone seemed to abate whatever upset Moon had at the moment, his gaze immediately softening. Sun used one hand to cling to his brother’s cloak weakly, like a child to their parent.

“We don’t… we don't have anywhere else to go.” Betraying his efforts to stay calm, Sun’s radials flickered and retracted slightly. “It won’t be forever… just… just long enough to come up with a plan. To rest…”

Looking to where Sun clung to him, Moon gently lifted his brother’s hand and gave it a squeeze, thinking carefully for a long moment. “To rest,” he finally agreed.

Grateful, Sun gave him a tired smile and leaned his head forward; Moon met him by leaning forward, their foreheads touching comfortingly for a moment as Sun calmed himself. Once settled, they focused on getting changed, fidgeting with the simple clothes they were offered until satisfied. Their pants were of identical make, simple slacks formed from wrapped fabric that tied in the front and back while stopping at the ankle–-though on his lanky self, Sun’s ended at his calf-–one in tan and the other in blackish-blue; their shirts were slightly different from each other, though it was clear from the fit that they had been made with human bodies in mind, both unable to fully cover their torsos, one built too broad and the other too long for what the styles had been intended for. Moon’s was a halter with open shoulders and loose sleeves in navy while Sun sported a high neck and loose sleeves that cuffed at his forearm in a sandy color.

Imperfect, but as Jenn had said, better than nothing.

The pair sat in silence for a while after getting used to their new garments, both thinking over everything that had happened–that they could remember at least. After some time, Sun spoke, “We should explain to her what happened.”

Moon’s hands tensed, fingers locking together at the idea of sharing anything about their reasons for fleeing. Especially to a stranger.

Especially more to a stranger that he’d rather put in a headlock than spill his guts to.

But there was another reason he didn’t want to admit to himself despite its glaring obviousness.

“What exactly do you want to tell her?” Moon asked quietly, already knowing the answer.

“All of it.”

Moon’s jaw tensed. “No.”

Sun straightened slightly. “Why not?”

“She is a stranger, Sun,” he said firmly.

“But maybe–”

“I said no.”

“Moon, pl–”

He was up before the pleading word could be spoken, Moon’s body language defensive and voice sharp. “We are refugees, Sun, because the last person-–the last human-–we should have been able to trust failed us. I am not putting myself at the mercy of another one, especially some semi-feral loner who lives in the woods with only her pets!”

Sun’s lips pursed slightly. “We weren’t failed, Moon.”

Frustrated, Moon rolled his eyes. “Then what would you call it?”

Sun didn't have an answer.

“Then it doesn’t matter. The point I’m making is that we’re safe-er but not safe, Sun. This place might be better than where we were, but it’s not a haven.”

“But–”

He cracked. “She threatened to shoot us, Sun!”

Immediately, he regretted it, not for what he said but how. Moon’s voice had reached a point of cracking under his anger, lashing out when he didn’t mean to and where it shouldn’t go. He saw Sun crumple, shying away from him as he snapped, the bright radials around his head shuddering and dimming as he finally started to break under the stress.

“No–-no no no, I’m sorry-” Moon folded, sitting beside his brother and pulling him close in an effort to comfort him, cursing himself and the entire situation. “I’m sorry.”

He couldn’t admit that he wasn’t able to remember why they were running in the first place. He only knew in the deepest part of his data and programming that it was for a good reason.

That something bad had happened–-or was going to happen.

And that it was his fault.

Chapter Text

Waking up was less of a chore this time, however neither of the brothers could recall exactly when they had nodded off to begin with. Moon was the first to rouse himself, blinking his eyes open against the dim purple light of the sitting room while taking the time to listen. Everything was still. Internally, his operating system pinged him.

//STATUS: ONLINE/

/Idle time: <1 shake_AST/

/Battery: fully charged/

>ES_Recoup: 0.0035%_

Well, it’s not like I lost a lot of power to begin with, Moon thought to himself, only slightly curious about why he’d gone idle at all when he had a full battery beforehand. Taking a slow breath that heaved his shoulders, he sighed. Glancing down, he saw his brother was still resting, head tucked against his collar like so many nights they shared in that place.

That place.

Thoughts began to cycle rapidly, Moon doing his best to moderate and control the rate at which they came and went to prevent triggering some form of panic in his mind. Something was nagging at him to address, deep in the corners of corroded files and memories that had been scratched out of their given locations, forcibly removed and leaving stinging holes in their wake. Hands tightening on the fabric of Sun’s shirt as he continued to hold his brother safely, Moon further internalized and began sorting through everything to try and understand whatever was bothering him so much.

Guilt? Hm, perhaps. They had just gotten into a small bout of emotions earlier. That memory was crisp-–as much as he hated that it was, it at least reminded him of the now. How he’d held onto Sun as he crumpled under the weight of what he realized had to be an immense amount of stress, even if it was for good reason. Running away from home, from everything they knew–that was part of it, surely.

Yet not all. Even with it being a fraction of the issue, Moon also felt… distant to it. Like it had occurred in some other room he was only privy to watching through a wall of glass, withdrawn and not participating despite knowing full well he’d snapped at Sun and broken the dam the golden one had spent so long trying to keep in place. In truth, he wasn’t sure if he was more bothered by the feeling of distance itself or the fact it was there to begin with.

More to go over later, I guess, he told himself before returning to his mental sweep.

He remembered the rough tiff they had, how Sun had grown tired and they’d laid down on the couch, Moon cradling his brother as if shielding him from both the outside and inner turmoil he was feeling…

It wasn’t new. No.

~

The bed gave slightly under their combined weight, Sun’s normally warm body left cool to the touch as he sat, unmoving, in its center. Night had fallen and been there for what felt like an eternity, the distant light of Usil barely making up for the light of the aurora as it peeked over the edge of the high window. The only view they were afforded in this room.

Moon shook his brother’s shoulder gently, his voice quietly speaking the golden robot’s given name but there was no response. He tried again, firmer. The light spokes that decorated Sun’s head shifted, spinning slightly and growing in luminosity as he seemed to come out of whatever trance he was in, looking back to Moon.

His teal irises were desaturated, empty, the sight sending a sharp spike of cold worry into Moon’s joints. He begged to know what had happened, though he already had an awful feeling, their Lock humming incessantly in his gut as it registered some kind of distress he couldn’t assess.

That woman had already been here earlier.

~

Moon shuddered, shaking himself a bit. That memory was, unfortunately, intact as well. And he had woken Sun.

“Moon…?” Sun’s voice was weak, confused.

“I’m here,” he replied gently, allowing his brother to move away and sit up, the radials flowing from their projection points silently as they always did when Sun woke up. They both sat up slowly, groggy, and just the tiniest bit emotionally sore from their exchange prior to their… nap?

“Did… we fall asleep?”

Unable to look Sun in the eye, Moon nodded. “We did.”

“Why?”

“I’m not sure.”

He could think of one way to figure it out, but it meant interacting with that strange human, Jenn. The possibility she’d tampered with them was something he’d been ignoring, yet he recalled suddenly and sharply that he’d received a tampering warning when he woke up from being powered off. At first he’d felt it wasn’t about her, but the nagging was still there, demanding him to root out all possibilities.

Of course there’s a chance she added something instead of taking anything out. Something that would power them off remotely at a whim.

Getting up slowly, Moon squared his shoulders and went to the door.

Sun called his name, but he barely registered it, a strange kind of calmness overtaking his senses as he marched with deliberation to the outside where the faintest amount of noise was coming from. Somewhere behind him, Sun had gotten up to follow, still trying to talk to him–but he didn’t have anything to say to his brother at the moment. He needed to know what the error was. To know if she’d done something to them while they were offline, be it added or subtracted.

He just needed an answer-–no, a confession-–that she couldn’t be trusted. That they weren’t safe at all.

So he’d be justified in killing her with his own hands.

~~~~

Leaving the pair alone was partly to see what they did when unsupervised for longer than a few minutes, but also due to Jenn still having things to do and she didn’t want to spend her day babysitting her unexpected guests. Not when she had things to double check. After departing from the sitting room, the human woman had gone outside and down the steps, footfalls thudding heavily until she was low enough to simply hop the rail and descend, landing on her feet with a thud in the grass. Shaking it off, she strode over to the metal room pod that served as her personal lab and held her false arm up; the light panel on the back of her hand flickered, then the door opened with a hiss, the lights popping on as she stepped over the threshold.

The array of equipment on the table remained untouched for the moment as she sought the bookcase in the back, a great wooden monstrosity she’d spent days hauling in piece by piece from a dump sight a short distance away–-short being a relative term to her. Thumbing over the covers of notebooks and bound tomes salvaged, repaired and purchased from whatever vendors happened to have them, this collection was exclusively dedicated to cyberite, including its known properties and uses, both direct and adjacent.

Or as some preferred to call it, raw etherylle.

Everything she could get ahold of regarding the mysterious mineral was here-–including manuals and schematics of self-contained etherylle power cycling systems and the machines made to use them. It had been a while since her last refresher, but Jenn knew they were here somewhere.

“Ah.”

There was a gap on the shelf. Her fingers skimmed over it curiously before tapping the shelf itself in thought. She’d moved it, apparently.

Turning, hand to her chin, Jenn’s gaze shifted from the floor to the large table in the middle of the space, the collection of parts littering the surface barely gaining her notice as she moved around it, scanning for the binder she needed. There was no organization, at least to the casual observer, the parts left sitting helter-skelter and yet there was still some sense of order to be had to their owner. Hip cocked as she tried to think back, Jenn felt she’d just had the binder she sought recently but her dragged brain had misplaced that tidbit of knowledge when she was ‘interrupted’.

Right, she recalled, glancing at the door a moment. I was working on… Her gaze returned to the table, quickly flicking over the parts and her mental notes of what she still needed or couldn’t use, a slow sigh escaping her mouth. Sorry, bud… I might have to wait a while before I can get back to working on you.

Dissatisfied, she left the sealed room and headed back up her stairs, pausing on the deck as she caught sight of the space between the trees at the very edge of her property where she’d found the pair of newcomers, just laying in the grass. The grass had gone back to its normal state and she’d cleared as much of the debris as she could, but odds and ends from the trees above still littered the ground–-the trees themselves still bore a reasonable gap in the canopy from where they’d fallen. Pondering, she reached into her memories for a moment, I was in my lab… and then…

~

“Alert. Alert.”

Jenn’s brow furrowed as she picked her head up from where she was stooped over, comparing a cylindrical piston case to the catalog on the table. Twii, barely a comprehensible shape and more of a smudge of color, careened into the workshop through one of the air vents–Jenn intentionally kept the cover off of it for that very reason–as a strange voice emitted from her. The pocket-bot landed on the table gracefully, sitting in her idle position and changing her face screen to display a bright red WARNING banner.

“Uh oh,” the human uttered, which was all the permission needed for the little spot of color to tip her face back and project a cone of light upward, a message assembling itself out of the tens of thousands of light particles within.

“Alert: a D-class aurora anomaly has begun to form in the area of Crissen Ridge and Alva. Travelers, Runners and homesteads in the area are advised to seek shelter immediately in the nearest geo-stable location. Do not be alarmed if towers, equipment and companions experience technical difficulties during this time.” 

The alert began to repeat but Twii had the wherewithal to stop it after one, chirping as she followed Jenn to the exit, grabbing onto her mother’s shirt back to hitch a ride. Jenn let out a string of colorful curses as she hurriedly shut down her operation, scooping the binder into her hands and readying to power down the lab with the lockdown code for such events–-then she paused a moment. Moving swiftly, she crossed the yard to the white tent on the opposite side of her tree that covered the half-built excuse for an add-on she used for storage and projects that needed better ventilation than the lab block. The parts she’d collected, laid out neatly on the doubled-up table in the middle of the space, could almost form the shape of a body if viewed at a distance.

With enough knowledge, one could see the layout of arms, a hand, the makings of a lower torso with hips, and some piping for legs, however there were far more gaps than anything else; not dissimilar to a paleontological discovery of bone fragments, in a way. This didn’t remain long, however, as Jenn scooped the parts haphazardly into a box on the ground, unwilling to let them get damaged by the aurora event. Most of the little ones fit into the box easily, but the pipes and larger coils had to be carried manually–-frustrated, Jenn tossed the binder onto the double table, barely caught Twii fly off to the side of the space somewhere, and sealed the box…

~

Hopping the rail once more, Jenn hit the grass and entered her tent with only faint belief that what she sought would even be there given it had been recently occupied and she knew it wasn’t there while they were.

It took only a moment to know it wasn’t, in fact, in the tent. Unsurprising. What was there, however, was a mess.

Scratching her head, Jenn moved around the table the Sunrise had been on and found the pile of their clothes left on the grassy floor with absolutely none of the care that was normally given to things so expensive. Had she thought less of them, she’d assume it was simply naive negligence on their part–-rich kids not knowing the value of their stuff and all that. She’d seen it plenty before.

However, the fact they intentionally donned the plain cloaks while abandoning their silks was curious. Was it due to practical need or something else? Carefully, she folded the fabric back up and set it on the little side table she’d dragged in from the lab, picking up the discarded decorations strewn about in the grass. Once it was set to rights, she peered around, hands on her hips.

Still no binder. Time to think about what happened next.

~

Snapping the hinges down, she hit the activator on the front of the box, sending a ripple of light through the seam where the lid met the base, the magnetic displacer kicking on. Hefting it onto her back with one of the straps attached to its side, she was grateful for the wonder of weight management devices like this that made hauling things like robot parts and groceries so much easier for one person. Arms laden with the bigger fragments of her project, she sped to the lab and deposited it all on the large table before returning for the rest, a bit displeased she needed two trips.

Once safely hidden from the coming anomaly, she locked the lab down and thundered up the steps, calling a crisp whistle that cut through every corner of the property to summon her collection to one place. Twii zipped out of the tent immediately, tailing up the steps behind her, while the bushes rustled below; Rukbat emerged, bounding over the yard to reach the patio like his life depended on it. Hanging a sharp right, Jenn rolled through the wrap-around patio and leaned over the rail, arm extended.

“Aquila!” she called, seeing the golden bird leave its perch and descend eagerly, giving a sharp rasp as the human pulled her under the eaves, unbothered by her bulk. Jenn entered her home through the back door and sealed it, Rukbat slipping into the house at the last moment and doing his best to stay out from underfoot. This door led directly into Jenn’s bedroom, arguably the largest space in the house, decorated almost exclusively in shades of blue or white and gray; she was nothing if not dedicated to a theme. Sitting on the large, circular bed that took up most of the space in the middle was Laa, already prepared for what was to come.

Setting her bird down on the bed, Jenn gave her a pet, feeling the mattress shift as Rukbat made himself comfortable. The twins nestled together between the larger Stellaris units, none of them seeming too perturbed by the warnings. It wasn’t the first time, nor would it be the last, that they had to face a major storm of geo-magnetic activity out here, but it would always be massively inconvenient, even if it wasn't directly overhead.

“Of course I’m right in the thakking middle of this one,” Jenn grumbled to herself while giving everyone gentle strokes and scratches. “Alright, all, you know what’s coming. Everyone power off for a shake or two.”

Obediently, they did as told, each one’s inner light fading slowly as they cycled down, bodies dropping slightly as they fell into stationary poses. It never failed to make Jenn uncomfortable on some level to see the light literally leave their eyes, no matter how temporary it might be. At least the twins only looked to be asleep.

“There’s that,” she muttered before snapping her fingers and rushing back outside.

Overhead, Jenn saw the green and yellow beginning to buckle and twist, streaks of red and blue pulsing across it like electricity before peeling off into ribbons of light. She stood on her patio, transfixed for a moment, before remembering she had to shut her tower down so it wouldn't crash. Going up the normal way felt too slow so she opted to cut through Aquila’s perch, swinging her arm over the roof to find the bent piece of metal she’d left up there for just such a reason.

Robotic hand enclosing on the jagged twist of whatever metallic-polycarbonate blend it was made of, she pulled herself over the slope of the roof and scrambled up toward the branches that shielded her home from the sky, the metal buckling with a deep ba-dunk sound under her feet. Carefully, Jenn sidled to the nearest branch and grabbed on, hauling herself into the tree with practiced motion, knowing it like her own synthetic arm. Every twig, every slice in the bark, she knew from her time spent crawling in, over and around them while making this place hers–she knew where to step, where to grab and what could withstand a little bounce here or there as she ascended to the top.

Bolted in place where the tree splayed open, branches naturally unfolding from the middle as if leaving it bare for just such a thing to be set up, was her tower, spinning rapidly in the growing turbulence. The broken panel she’d glued together with some cheap resin was always finicky, but this time it obeyed without question as she input the shutdown command; watching it and the sky warily, Jenn made sure the tower’s rotor at the very top came to a stop, folding down and retracting into the base with a jitter and groan. The screen flashed a power indicator for residual battery and current usage, which she didn’t check as she knew it by heart from the other times she'd had to do this very task. It never changed.

The aurora was coalescing at a faster rate now, being overtaken with oranges and blues, the sky appearing to rip open in places, leaving stark, black gashes of the Sky-Beyond-the-Sky to seep through. Part of her wanted to watch this phenomenon desperately, but she knew it would be a horrible idea to do so–the warp was forming almost directly over her house and the pressure behind her eyes was already building. She’d have a lot worse than a migraine if she gave into the temptation to sit outside and oggle.

Sliding back down through the branches, she made record time getting back into her house–just enough to be able to shut the windows and pull the storm blinds down before it really got going out there…

~

“Hm.” Jenn frowned at herself. “That doesn't help me at all. I didn’t grab it then…? No. I went to my room… er… no, the lounge.” Her hand went from her chin to the back of her head, rubbing it with confusion. “Where the halt is it?”

Exiting the tent, her eyes glanced to the space once again where the pair had been laid out, powerless and lost.

~

The storm rattled and raged, shuddering the very roots of the tree the house sat upon, but only Jenn was privy to the howling wind and mental fog that accompanied it. Trees didn’t have to worry about the feeling of falling and being spun at high velocity while sitting perfectly still like she did.

Actually, most people probably didn’t experience these storms the same way she did. Not unless they managed to sleep through them somehow, and dreamed vivid, restless dreams. This was no different, save for their intensity; the strange visions of things and places she didn't know had ceased to be concerning ages ago.

The pain, however, was another thing entirely.

By the time the storm had passed, Jenn was barely cognizant of herself, shaking and sweating on the floor of her sitting room as the last traces of magnetic sickness seeped its way out of her bones. Her false arm had been discarded only moments before the storm descended, as it only served to make the buzzing feeling in her body worse in these high-intensity vortexes. It laid on the floor nearby, the blue light gone from its exterior. Breathing heavily, Jenn lifted her head and blinked slowly with the lights coming back on–they’d gone out, as expected, as the storm interfered with the backup power.

Somewhere in the house, she heard movement, the tapping of nails on tile–-had she given them the power on command by accident? Or were they out so long that their natural power cycle counter had run out and they simply returned to business? She wasn’t sure–-her right eye throbbed with pressure that begged her to not question it.

Tapping steps went by through the wall, the sound of a door opening and closing–-someone went outside. Sighing, Jenn sat back and wiped her brow with the hem of her shirt, feeling her hair cling to her scalp where she’d sweat enough to make it damp. Disgusting.

As fatigued as she was, there were things to do, and no amount of pain or head fog had stopped her yet. That wasn’t about to change.

She’d barely gotten her arm back in place when she heard the commotion, the loud clatter of something falling through the trees and Rukbat barking erratically. Fear dug its way past her tiredness, giving her the speed and coordination needed to bolt through her door to the outside, palm on her false arm as she prepared to deal with trouble. It was needless, though, as she realized the commotion had knocked itself out as it landed.

Stunned, the human leaned on the rail of her patio to try and get a better look, Rukbat standing alert on the grass below with his nose pointed to the mass of gray fabric and limbs that had, apparently, come falling through the sky judging by the mess of leaves and tree bark scattered around them. “What in Azil’s shell–-?” Jumping the rail was a reflex that she immediately regretted, landing with far less grace than she usually had, her toes and ankles buckling under her unbalanced, tired weight. A choked off grunt was all she had to muster as she stood and padded over to her unexpected guests, stopping a distance away for her own safety.

One of them had heard her, picking his head up weakly, orange and cream embellishments standing out like a beacon against the gray fabric covering him; light flickered on his head but failed to properly catch–light radials, she realized, knowing they were a popular feature for Diurnal Task Managers, which he seemed to be. One eye was blinking in and out, as if trying to come online and failing, the other was a grayed-out teal that struggled to stay in focus, however she felt in her gut that he’d seen her for just a moment.

Right before he powered off.

~

Absently, her organic hand had reached over to her right side while she recalled her day, rubbing gently. “Right,” she said to herself, turning in place. “Then I took them to the tent and got them fixed up…” Briefly, she recalled moving the binder from the table when she separated them so each robot could get his own workspace, but then what?

Pantomiming the motions, Jenn envisioned the binder in her hands, feeling like she had gone upstairs next…

… the binder flipped open slightly as it sailed through the air, spinning in circles until it landed with a whump on the cushion only to bounce and flop behind the couch…

“AH!”

Of course it would be inside the house !

Hurrying, Jenn clamored up to her porch and rounded into the house so quickly she had to use her hand to brace the entryway as a pivot. It had only been a few minutes, perhaps the boys were dressed and she could pester them to let her grab the elusive bundle of paper before they found it–-!

“She tried to shoot us, Sun!”

Moon’s voice reverberated through the closed door, bringing the human to a sudden stop. Uh-oh, she pondered, realizing they must be having a go at each other with how loud that was. Do I interrupt?

It was quiet again right after, which prompted her to put her ear to the door–it was her house after all–but she resisted the urge and stepped back, waiting just a moment to see if anyone emerged. When they didn’t, she sighed, hand on her neck. Guess I need to wait to get that stupid binder, I’m not gonna cut in if they’re having some kind of quarrel. It’s not my business.

Making a terse pbt sound with her lips, Jenn meandered back outside, seeing Aquila sail by overhead as she often did. The desire to confirm her suspicions was only nagging at best, but persistent, lending itself to generating more questions and theories as she looked for something to do to kill time until the pair had finished their squabble. How did they manage to survive not only the fall, but the aurora event, in one piece? Was the Sunrise’s quickness to trust and accept her help because he vaguely recognized her from before he powered off? Why were they even out here? Was she overthinking what she’d seen due to being unfamiliar with the basic structure of the Sun and Moon models?

That one, at least, could be answered as soon as she got the binder in her mitts, but the rest she felt would never get a proper answer, and that always bothered her on principle. She hated unanswered questions.

Alas.

It was none of her business.

Yet she hoped she could get the Moondrop to permit her to examine his system a bit more without a fuss. The memory of the error she’d found danced at the edge of her thoughts like a bug fluttering in the corner of her eye and there’s a high probability he’d gotten alerted to it when he came back online, so it was question of if he’d trust her enough to admit it or if he was going to accuse her of causing it. Either-or didn’t matter so much as long as it got him to sit still and grant her access, as she had a pretty good idea what it was. Moon had been tampered with before she got to him, but by what or whom she could only guess.

Likely not the one who’d installed the tracking chips in their main systems to begin with, though.

Chapter Text

“Where are you going?” Frantic, Sun strode after his brother quickly, his lengthy legs crossing the room in a few steps, however he was just slightly too late to grab the hem of Moon’s shirt as he turned the corner. It was abnormal for either of them to ignore the other, however the gangly, gold robot had seen this happen twice before where his beloved brother seemed to tune him out entirely in pursuit of some unknown goal. Most recently, it was during their attempt to flee–-yet he still gave words of encouragement when Sun faltered or tried to slow down. Before that, his last true indifferent silence…

Sun shook his head, unwilling to think back to that place just yet. To that woman.

He’d stopped Moon then from doing what he felt was a very awful thing to her for his sake, but this time the sharp, icy dig in his heart was more manageable. Whatever this intent was, Sun couldn’t–-wouldn’t-–let his brother act on it. Stumbling through the narrow hall after the navy robot, Sun reached out again, catching the edge of the flowing shirt Moon had between his fingers finally. Not that it mattered, as Moon came to a sudden stop on the patio. Already in motion, Sun walked right into him, though it didn’t seem to bother Moon in the slightest. Despite both being made with elegance and grace at their core, Moon was always the more balanced of them, rarely missing a step and never easy to knock over–-not to say Sun himself was wobbly or poorly coordinated, there was just something… else to how Moon carried himself that almost made Sun jealous at times. Yet this lack of eerie grace didn’t spare him the majority of attention he’d received while Moon simply skirted the edges of the spotlight.

To this day, Sun still didn’t understand the disproportionate favor those people-–the guests-–gave him.

Trying once more to get Moon’s attention, Sun opened his mouth yet he caught the line of sight in Moon’s gaze where it beamed into the front yard. Following it-–ignoring how miniscule Moon’s irises appeared with this laser intent in them–-he saw the human, Jenn, doing some sort of motions. Her pets–-family?--were with her, the canine leaping excitedly over the grass and the avian circling low, dipping close to her position before soaring back up-–it dropped something that Jenn caught, testing its weight. The pair watched for a second more as she seemed to toss something into the underbrush, the canine taking off after it with a yip.

Once the mis-matched bot was clear of her, Jenn unfolded the thing the bird had given her, revealing it was bound to a length of cord. Swinging it in a circle once-–twice-–on the third count, she let it go, sending the bundle soaring into the sky. In a flash, the avian was after it, all gold and copper flashes under the calm yellow of the aurora. It appeared they were playing together, which was rather endearing for Sun to see, but it didn’t seem to dissuade Moon from his course any longer than it took to assess she was unarmed and undefended.

“Moon!” Sun pleaded when his brother started moving again, but he knew it would be ignored, his steps quick to cover any length of distance Moon’s pace attempted to put between them.

However, this time Moon did speak. To Jenn. “You .”

Voice all splinters and venom, it was hard to ignore, Sun’s stride even faltering on the stairs as he shuddered. Jenn took notice as well, though she didn’t seem the slightest bit perturbed by his tone or gaze-–was it possible this feeling was purely on Sun’s part? That he was making up the feeling of hateful intent out of worry?

Rukbat crashed through the bushes, toy in his jaws, but his playful joy had been replaced as he crossed the gap, ears alerted and tail stiff. The canine placed itself between his master and the threat, teeth bared around the round ball in his mouth, prepared to engage at the slightest provocation.

He wasn't making it up then.

Whimpering slightly, Sun nearly jogged to make it to his brother, pulling at his arm and shirt to get him to stop his death march. “Moon! Please!”

A shudder ran through Moon’s body as he came to a halt, but he didn’t give in to acknowledge Sun’s pleading with a turn of the head, simply continuing with his accusation, tone a little less savage. “We need to talk.” She simply looked at him, unbothered, as her avian descended to her shoulder with wings spread protectively. “What did you do to my memories?”

Prickles danced up Sun’s arms, a sinking feeling clogging his throat at the words. Oh no.

“I was wondering when you were going to ask about that,” Jenn replied simply, as if it wasn’t a major issue. This flippant tone almost made Moon move again, however Sun wrapped his arms around his brother’s shoulders to try and stop him.

A low growl rumbled in Moon’s chest, “Let me go.”

“No,” Sun rasped back, unwilling to allow whatever intrusive thoughts were urging Moon to act this way to do what they wanted–-not without a fight at least.

“Actually,” Jenn went on, either unaware of or masterfully ignoring their power struggle as she gave her bird’s chest a ruffle, “I wanted to ask you about that, too.”

The tension left so quickly it felt like it snapped. The pressure of trying to move forward that Sun had been fighting to pull back on just… left. Suddenly. Quiet and confused, Moon only managed a, “What?” as Sun dropped to his knees, sighing in relief. This seemed to finally get the dark one’s attention as he looked down, a bit surprised.

On the ground, Sun leaned a bit to one side, hands in his lap. “Thank goodness! You scared the synapses out of me!”

Jenn stared at them both, a flicker of concern in her eyes. “Was the fight you two had that bad?”

They both perked up at this, Moon glancing away as he realized he must have been louder than he thought if she’d heard him all the way out here. Blessedly, Sun answered so he didn’t have to, “No–-it wasn’t. It… I don’t know! Moon, what’s going on?”

Ah, draggit, Moon hissed to himself, taking a second to compose himself. “That's what I want to know.” Pointing a finger at Jenn accusingly, he heard Rukbat growl, the ball dropping to the grass as the canine licks its jowls. “What do you mean you ‘wanted to ask’? You knew about the error?”

Brow quirked, she fired back, “You realize I’m the one who brought you back online, right? Of course I knew.”

Gaze narrowing, Moon pressed, “Then of course the idea of those errors being your doing makes sense, right?”

“It does.” Her nonchalance was bothering him. Deeply. “I can explain what I saw if you let me talk.”

“Please do.” Trying to keep his focus on the human as she sauntered around her yard, Stellaris guardians never far from her, he held his hand out to help Sun get to his feet, feeling his brother squeeze his hand cautiously. He squeezed back gently, unwilling to look his brother in the eye when he knew it was only full of worry, being well aware of the fact he had almost done it again. Cold, calculated, murderous intent fueling him to commit one of the worst sins a robot could.

He almost killed a human with no due cause.

Or at least, he’d wanted to. Thank the aurora her return statement had caught him so off guard he’d snapped out of it-–he’d been so hopeful she’d been the perpetrator that the idea she was just as curious and confused by his system error as he was hadn’t occurred to him until just then. Granted, it could be a facade, but they were getting somewhere. Hopefully.

Jenn plopped onto the grass, getting herself comfortable with her companions huddled close to her, making warning grunts and growls if the boys moved too much in any way they didn’t like; following her example, they both dropped gracefully into sitting positions, Sun taking to scratching the back of his hand anxiously as he waited for the sinking feeling to pan out into what he was afraid to hear. Blue eyes skipping over them for a moment, he couldn’t be sure if she’d noticed his nerves or if she’d acknowledge it if she did. “When you two… ‘arrived’,” she made little finger quotes, “you were banged up pretty badly. Honestly, I’m surprised this one was even online at all.” Jerked her thumb toward Sun, the brothers shared a confused look.

“You were still online?” Moon asked quietly, only to get a shrug in response.

“Genuinely, I’m not…” Sun’s teal eyes flickered a bit as he pulled up the memories from before booting up, brow furrowed. Literal static and whirls of color made up a good portion of the moments–-hours?--leading up to their awakening in the white room, with only vague flashes of sensible things in between. He saw Moon briefly, the sky, a rush of ground as it accelerated at him–-

A vague, blurry shape that almost resembled a human behind his ‘low power’ warning.

“I…” he finally continued, blinking himself back to the present, “... guess I was. For a minute or so.”

“Believe me,” Jenn said, drawing their focus back to her, hand petting Rukbat between the ears, “I know you were.” Tapping her cheek below her eye, she added, “Messed this thing up pretty bad in the crash.” Absently, Sun reached for his own eye, fingertips tracing the shape of his face mold.

“Crash?” Moon pondered, seeing Sun touch his face at the corner of his eye.

Lips pursed, Jenn pointed upward and behind her head; they followed her finger, spying the gap in the canopy fairly quickly that they, presumably, made when they fell.

Hand rubbing over his chest, Moon felt she wasn’t lying, but more curiously he thought he felt a dull ache in his shell despite there being nothing there-–as if his body remembered the pain of hitting the ground even after the damage had been fixed. “Why did you repair us?” The words came out without him genuinely considering speaking them, but he didn't want to stop himself either. Knowing what transpired was the only sense of comfort he was giving himself for the moment.

“Why not?”

Her answer was odd to him, yet as he studied her face and body language, he couldn’t find any tick or tell that she was hiding something by giving a non-answer.

She added, “I used my own stash of spares, by the way,” shifting in her spot slightly. “You’re welcome.”

Moon grunted with mild annoyance but Sun blurted a ‘thank you’ before he could say anything harsher.

“That’s actually something I found fascinating,” Jenn went on, taking the reins of the conversation for a moment. “For all intents and purposes, you both should have been scrap.” They both tensed.

Tersely, Moon cut in, “What do you mean by that?” shifting forward just a bit as Sun’s hand pressed him back warningly.

Using her hands to gesture enough that Aquila had to hop to the ground, Jenn indicated the aurora above. “Do you know what kind of manic freak out the aurora was having at the time? That was a class-D event-–the thakking aurora crested the gap at Crissen Ridge and warped all kinds of things for miles. Towers went down all across the region, and gravity wells made an absolute mess in Willwood-–”

Moon waved his hands, cutting her off, “Wait wait wait, hold on… where did the aurora touch down?”

Sun rubbed his forehead, feeling his system trying to ping his location history as he thought and only receiving small errors and unknowns for the trouble.

“Crissen Ridge,” she repeated, folding her arms expectantly.

“So where are we?”

There’s the other boot, Jenn thought to herself, having expected them to grow restless with the location mask she had on her tower and the various small system discrepancies it would cause them when their internal locator couldn't find a signal. “Definitely not there.”

“Well, clearly ,” Moon growled, not appreciating her dodgy answer.

“Look,” the human went on before he could begin to dig at her for it, “I have reasons for keeping my location inaccessible to strangers.” Both of them creased their brows. “But I can tell you, it’s not a short jaunt to the ridge. The center of the storm was practically right over my house, give or take half a mile, and everything at the edges got pulled toward it. Wherever you were when it hit, you were unlucky enough to get snatched by the vortex but somehow still lucky enough to survive in one piece, even after falling Azil-knows-how-far out of the sky afterwards. Props to your creator for not skimming on durability.”

The unsettling tingle began to creep again. For Moon, it was his arms and the back of his neck, and it had a feeling of incredulity in tow; there was no way they could have survived such a fall, no matter how well built they were. For Sun, it was in his core, forcing the feeling of everything running faster under the surface than it should be, causing his fingers to quiver at the tips.

“So, whatever miracle you managed to earn that saved your butts, you’d better be grateful it dropped you here and not right into the gap of the ridge.”

The way she spoke was too easy, too unbothered–it brought the nagging feeling out in Moon, even with the uneasy tingle taking up most of his attention. Through his teeth, he concluded, “You’re telling me we–-” he stiffly gestured at Sun, then himself and back, “--got sucked into an anomaly that should have torn us apart and dragged miles out into the wilderness, only to then fall hundreds of feet to the ground–-and didn’t break into a thousand pieces?”

“Yep,” she affirmed, gaze even. “I’m impressed, honestly, given you’re not exactly industrial-grade models.”

This they knew quite well. Despite the care and detail given to them, Sunrise and Moondrop Task Managers were not built for durability and damage management because they were not intended to deal with either. They were made to dance. To entertain their patron and whoever they brought around to watch, while occasionally fulfilling whatever whim was given to them. Once in a while, it was menial tasks-–chores, housework, things of that nature-–but most actions were in the favor of hospitality. To be witty, clever orators and gracious hosts wherever needed, when they weren’t leaving onlookers awestruck with their grace and flourish.

Never were these prized creations meant to come to harm or handle laborious tasks that would put them in danger, thus they were not made to endure such circumstances.

“Miracles aside,” Jenn’s voice went on, cutting through the confusion that fogged their minds somewhat at the sheer disbelief of her claim, “you still got banged up pretty good. Lucky for you, I know my way around a Re_Cycle system and have a bunch of parts just hanging out to grift pieces from.” There was a moment, Sun noticed, that felt like purposeful emphasis as Jenn stroked the underside of her canine’s chin-–in the way she dug her fingers into the metallic fluff of her bird’s chest that snapped together an answer to a question he hadn’t considered asking.

She had built those units.

It was obvious now that he thought of it, given her sharp warning about respecting them and the bizarre appearances they had that didn’t match anything found In Market that he knew of. She didn’t just live alone in the jungle with companions she brought along–-she had pieced them together with her own hands from parts she collected or found. The protectiveness she displayed in the kitchen made so much sense now, Sun was a little embarrassed he hadn’t considered it before. Then again, the ubiquity of robotics knowledge wasn’t something he–-nor any Task Manager–-were privy to know. Perhaps every child on the street knew how to dismantle and reassemble them and this was simply a common feat among the humans, though he doubted it a bit. For whatever reason, humans were extremely protective of anything to do with the components, assembly and manufacturing of Task Managers. Especially their etherylle recycling systems.

A genuinely curious and grateful, “Why?” escaped his mouth as he considered this revelation, which he hadn’t intended. Hand snapping to his mouth, Sun looked to his brother only to be met with a curious gaze that told him Moon had been wondering the same thing.

“Why, what?” Jenn answered back, taking him off guard with how gentle her own voice was.

Sun dared for a moment to look her directly in the eye–-he’d been avoiding it out of polite habit until now, a bit afraid to see the cool indifference he’d been growing accustomed to staring back at him–-and found a softness only glimpsed once prior. The Stardusts that had given them network access had gotten such a look from her when they’d first appeared, her blue irises seeming less like the frigid depths of icy water she’d been showing them and more of a cottony blanket that promised comfort and warmth if he chose to pick it up. Such a gaze was unexpected, yet Sun felt a desperate desire to keep it-–to take whatever shelter that kindness offered and simply cocoon himself in it.

It was peaceful.

Then she blinked and it was gone, the chill returning and snapping him out of the dreamlike fantasy moment he taunted himself with like so many nights spent gazing at the sliver of Uls visible through his bedroom window, wishing he could go somewhere to see it better. Stumbling to articulate what he meant, Sun pursed his lips and tried again, “Why did you use your parts to fix us? Why fix us at all?”

“Why not?”

Moon rolled his eyes, displeased at her non-answers, but Sun pondered it a moment longer, though it didn’t do much good. There was no answer he could come up with that felt satisfactory. “You… know what we are. What we’re… worth.” Faintly, Sun saw her brow arch. “You could have…” Absently, he rubbed his arm with his hand, unwilling to verbalize the fearful feeling he had in his circuits.

Thankfully, she took the hint and finished for him, though with a bit more detail than he’d been willing to admit to himself. “You’re wondering why I didn’t scrap you because you were powered off and couldn’t fight back?”

The golden robot felt his brother’s fingers curl slightly against the grass next to his leg. Carefully, he put his hand over Moon’s to try and ease him, feeling the tension lessen only a bit, nodding quietly to the human woman.

“Because it was the right thing to do.”

Moon’s posture shifted, his shoulders squaring a bit as he leaned forward, not understanding what she meant. “What?”

Jenn’s brow raised higher as if she didn’t understand why he was confused. “The right thing? You know, giving someone the benefit of the doubt, offering them aid when needed without asking, being a decent person?” Her expression changed to a furrowed pinch of her own, as if she were understanding some unknown thing that only made less sense as she considered it. “Don’t tell me you’ve never been given the benefit of the doubt before?”

Slowly, they shook their heads. Where they were from–-that place-–it was fairly cut and dry who was to blame for mistakes and who would be punished for it. She never had doubts about her decisions. Or regrets.

“Right.” Jenn rubbed her face a bit, expression unreadable for a moment. “Anyway…” She scratched her forehead, then dropped her hands into her lap with a sigh. “Not gonna lie, I’m a bit concerned now–-more than I already was.”

The warning look in Moon’s yellow eyes told her to keep it to herself.

“But that’s not my business. After getting you guys fixed up, you both needed a charge, so while that was happening I ran some diagnostics on you both, just to make sure there was no lingering damage or programming errors that a quick solder couldn’t fix. You” she nodded at Sun, “were pretty fine. Couple of dents and scratches, the eye,” she tapped her cheek absently, “which wasn’t even that bad, it just got cracked and the liquid LED display cable came loose. The pins were thakked so I gutted a spare and swapped them out. Anything else was the same for both you. Joints out of alignment, wires fried or frayed, some…” She made a gesture of uncertainty. “There were dents. Quite a few dents. Especially you.” This time it was Moon who got the eye of acknowledgement as her hand circled her chest area. “Landed face-first and just thakked up this whole area.”

Moon’s chest heaved with a slow intake of breath at this, knowing that must have been at least partly why he thought it should ache but didn’t.

Beside him, Sun murmured, “Can we please stop using vulgar language?” to himself.

Jenn’s eyes flicked to the uncomfortable bot, hearing him. “My bad.”

Sun’s cheeks flushed as he realized he’d spoken and been heard.

“That doesn’t answer my question,” the darker brother said, trying to keep to the topic. He felt she was getting sidetracked a bit too much.

“See,” she replied immediately, changing back with little provocation while supporting her elbow on one knee, “that’s the thing. I saw those errors right away, before running the system check, meaning they’d been queued for something that happened prior to me getting into your head.” Moon made a face at her phrasing. “At first I thought the anomaly had done it, but when I saw goldie here was fine in that department,” Sun tilted his head at the nickname, “it got me wondering if it was something else.”

“Was it?” A tint of desperation clung to Moon’s voice.

She shrugged. “I’d love to tell you if you’d let me.”

Moon’s eyes darted around like he was searching for the answer, baffled. “Do you not know already?”

“You were unconscious,” she replied rhetorically, “I wasn’t gonna go rooting around in your personal business without your consent like that. I was waiting for you to feel like letting me check it out when you were ready.”

The pair, to their credit, kept themselves together rather well, however they couldn't help the shock and shared question she presented them: since when did a human need consent to dig through a robot's mind? Especially when they were already unable to argue? Nevermind her use of the term ‘unconscious’--not ‘powered off’. Whiplash would be accurate to describe how they felt for a moment as they processed this small exchange, each filing it away for later review because what the halt–-

“Yes, I would very much like to know what caused that error,” Moon managed, voice tight as he fought the urge to decline out of self-preservation. Jenn opened her mouth to say something but he cut her off, adding, “But I am staying awake for it.”

“Oh, yeah sure.”

Part of him had hoped for insistence he be powered off, to push for him to be helpless while she accessed anything she wanted and Sun was left defenseless, as he knew his kind-hearted brother couldn’t bring himself to inflict harm, even in defense of himself. If he could-–Moon stopped the thought immediately. It wasn’t Sun’s fault. This… human was just completely throwing him off every time he thought he knew what to expect and it was making him twitchy.

“It’s probably going to itch.”

Jenn’s quip didn’t bother him, feeling that it was a well-meant warning that being awake for this endeavor was going to be uncomfortable, but it would be tolerable if it meant having any chance at getting this awful, nagging feeling to stop. Pulling his knees to his chest, Moon relaxed for a moment in thought as the human rose and walked off to grab… something from the other side of the yard. He didn’t try to look, too busy pondering their talk so far and hoping he could recall something about what caused the errors.

But it only got him a sharp twang in his head as the error repeated, tailed by ‘file inaccessible’ and other such notes about the gaps he’d already seen a dozen times by now.

Sun was the one to watch the human putter about, her companions fanning out into the yard but never leaving sight of them as she entered another, separate block of white metal. He hadn’t noticed it before while looking around but he could tell it was far more advanced than the room they’d been in, if that could even be considered a room. Whatever was inside, he couldn’t fathom, but the least he could do was mull over the last few minutes quietly while she wasn't there. Faintly, a grin ticked the edges of his mouth while he replayed her explanation-–she’d been gesturing with her hands and moving about in a way that he could only explain as cute; previously, she’d been stiff, guarded, with her hands occupied or held in place but this was lively and personable. Clearly, she wasn’t overthinking what she said, lending a sense of honesty to her words that he hoped Moon appreciated.

Then the sinking feeling came back, dragging everything down, even his shoulders. Please, he begged quietly, looking up to the gap in the trees overhead where the aurora danced peacefully, please don’t let it be that. Be something else. Something we can fix. Sun’s teal gaze remained on the lights of the sky, pleading, until the grass rustled with steps, Jenn returning with a handful of cables, some kind of headband and a small box in her hands, none of which either of them recognized.

“You sure you’re ready, sourpuss?” she mused, seeming far more enthusiastic now that she’d been given permission to explore Moon’s inner mechanics.

The energy was almost off-putting in a way but Moon sat up and shuffled to place his back to them, legs crossed and eyes closed, prepared for the worst. He’d tolerate a rude nickname if it meant settling this ordeal once and for all. “My memories aren’t going to magically come back if I wait, so I’m as ready as I can be.”

Setting the stuff on the ground, the brothers weren’t terribly surprised to see the colorful blurs of Twii and Laa appear as if summoned by an invisible command, their chirps of curiosity almost soothing. “Perfect timing, girls,” Jenn greeted them, her mouth playing at a smile while she placed the headband over her skull, a pair of blue sound pads on either side that firmly sat over her ears, white decals perched on the back side that vaguely resembled a butterfly if one squinted a bit.

Moon took a steadying breath as he heard them shuffling around at his back, trying not to let worry diffuse his determination. It was a struggle, but he would dare to trust this human just long enough to get answers. He had to. Sun met his gaze with what he could only think was concern, so he offered a tight smile, trying to reassure his brother things would be fine. Weakly, Sun smiled back, gaze going to the ground until he was addressed by Jenn.

“Alright, big guy,” she said with some amount of levity, placing the box on the ground between them with the cables strewn about, “sit still. I’m going to need your help.”

Sun stared a moment as the tiny twins flitted to his shoulders, sitting neatly. “I–-my help?”

Moon glanced over his shoulder suspiciously.

“Yep,” she went on, sorting the cables out while plugging them into the box on the ground. “I guarantee his system has all kinds of failsafes in it so I’m gonna need you to help bypass them.”

“I… what?”

Jenn held up a braided fiber optic cable in one hand, a similar one in her other, staring at him meaningfully.

“Oh, no,” Moon started, turning slightly, “you are not–”

She snapped, “Sh,” at him, making him stumble.

He tried again, eyes darting to the Stardusts on Sun’s shoulders. “Can’t your–”

She seemed to notice this and shushed him again, frowning. “Yes, sort of. They’re going to be helping out, don’t worry, but this isn’t just a file transfer. If I have to do a full system recovery they’ll help provide the extra processing power we need.”

“Sun doesn’t–”

“He either helps out or I have to manually pick through your system and that could mean hours of sitting here with your brain itching so shut it. I know what I’m doing.”

That’s exactly what I’m worried about, he fumed to himself, going back to his idle position.

“Oh,” Jenn mused while sorting her cables out, “and keep your intrusive thoughts under control. I’ll be able to see them.”

That was not reassuring.

Jenn noticed the worry and curiosity in Sun’s eyes as she slid over to him on her knees, his hand lightly clutching the cable end like it was a snake he didn’t want to be holding. “Don’t worry,” she soothed, surprising him with the same amount of gentleness he’d seen in her gaze before. “I won’t hurt him, or you.”

He wanted to believe her. Desperately.

With soft fingers, she touched the side of Sun’s head where his auditory sensor disk was, getting him to flinch just a bit-–no one was supposed to touch that, it was delicate! Just as quickly as he flinched, causing Laa to lose her place and chirp begrudgingly from where she clung to his shirt front, the backs of Jenn’s fingers stroked his jaw and she murmured, “Sh, it’s alright, I’m sorry,” as if comforting a scared animal. Reluctantly, Sun had to admit to himself it was actually working, the rhythmic movement keeping him grounded somewhere in the recesses of his mind so he wouldn’t pull too far away. She kept speaking, explaining what she was doing as she was doing it in a low, humming tone that might have lulled him to sleep if he hadn’t been so tense otherwise. “It’s just me. I’m going to touch your haptic ring again, alright?” Nodding faintly, Sun kept still as her fingers made contact, tracing a precise pattern that he recognized only from what he felt was a deeply conditioned program memory. “I’m only opening this side, alright? That’s all we need. It’s going to tickle a bit,” a faint hiss of air told him the seams were unsealed, panels pulling in on themselves and separating to allow access to the most vulnerable part of himself; the space where a brain would be in a human was filled with light and the mysterious mechanical lifesblood–-etherylle–-swirling and flowing between the modules and components that made up his mind. Sun’s entire being, contained in parts so precise and advanced in make and design that the schematics were supposedly guarded with the ferocity of a mother corza protecting her kits, to keep all but the most skilled of mechanics and programmers from gaining access to their secrets-–and now he was exposed to the elements and aurora, open to whatever the human deemed necessary for her task.

Yet, somehow, he didn’t feel afraid. Tense for the coming endeavor certainly, but not afraid. The gentleness of her voice and care for his comfort had, somehow, put him at ease enough to trust he was in no danger of being damaged.

Moon would undoubtedly berate him for that if he found out. The thought made Sun grin ever so faintly to himself.

Sun heard Jenn’s voice catch in a sigh as the components became visible before he felt her fingers on his wrist, distractedly plucking the cable out of his grip. “Wow…” she breathed, eyes caught in the pattern of brilliant fluid and slowly blinking connections that comprised the ‘brain’ of Sun, almost forgetting what she was doing. “Beautiful…” Cheeks reddening upon hearing herself, she snapped out of her trance and found the spot she thought she needed, unaware he was also flush from her compliment. “Um… there, I’m plugging it in now.” A second to process, then a click.

A shiver ran across Sun’s neck and arm as the cable popped into place, a little, “Woo!” escaping him that only served to darken his already blushing face. “That–-that certainly does tickle!”

“Told you.” Jenn slid back, dragging the braided cord between her fingers to the box to ensure it was plugged in correctly before picking up the other one and scooting closer to Moon, who had been watching the entire time with an even but intense expression. “Your turn.”

He stared a moment longer before casting a quick look to Sun to ensure he was alright, straightening out as she shuffled behind him. “Be quick.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Jenn snipped, rolling her eyes despite him being unable to see it. “Alright, I’m–”

“You don’t need to narrate, I already know what you’re doing.”

Eyebrows furrowed, Jenn huffed, putting the cable between her teeth and reaching to either side of Moon’s head. Fine, she said to herself, then don’t move. With practiced ease, she activated both halves of Moon’s cranial shell, doing her best not to get distracted by the intricate detail inside–-and failing slightly as she dropped the cable into her hand. “Incredible…”

Moon thought to make a remark about her awe but felt fingers in places he wasn’t used to and tensed, voice catching in his throat as a zing snapped through him.

“This is going to tickle.”

It was a second late, purposefully so, he felt, but didn’t want to risk being snarky now that he had something plugged into the one part of him he couldn’t risk more damage to. Her hands returned a second time, in a slightly different spot, followed by a smaller pop of something connecting; the accompanying sensation was a bloom of warmth that tingled down his neck and into his face, nearly getting a shudder out of him. “What was that?” he asked in a measured tone.

Sitting back, Jenn got comfortable on the grass before powering on the box. “That was so I could connect my visor’s optics.”

“Why?”

Sun watched the human activate her headband, an array of light spots dancing across her head as a visor, tinted blue with a half-mirror coating, formed almost from nothing. Micro-storage nanobots were something he’d heard of and seen before, but finding them out here in the possession of a–-for lack of a better term, rural-–stranger was unexpected.

“How else do you expect me to do this?” she asked as if it was the most obvious thing.

“You’re a V-programmer?” Sun wondered aloud, Moon’s shoulders squaring.

Acknowledging his revelation with, “Ah, you’re familiar with the method?” Jenn’s lips formed a half-grin from where they were visible under the visor lens.

Butting in, Moon asked, “Excuse me, when were you going to tell us that?”

“You didn’t ask,” she cut back, her helm flickering with incomprehensible strings of data and readings as her arm began to emit a blue light that matched the pattern dancing across the HUD. “Now hush, I’m gonna start. When I need you, sunshine, you’ll know.”

Nodding, the pair braced for whatever came next, both praying once more that this would work out.

Rolling her shoulders and shaking out her hands to relax them, Jenn turned to focus on the screen before her eyes with the small prompt that sat in the middle of her field of view:

[Connect to Network Hub?]

Using her robotic arm as a cusor, Jenn reached out and gesture-pressed the prompt.

//Connecting to Network Hub/J%B-B-W_hud%23045.sys/

…

/Connected/

Simultaneously, the visor darkened, blocking out external distractions as Sun and Moon both felt their own fields of view dim, prompts cycling rapidly as their internal HUDs overlaid themselves onto their active external vision; Moon gritted his teeth through it at first, feeling a bizarre loss of direction for a moment that slowly ebbed away, but Sun wobbled a bit. If he had to guess, he felt nauseous, if ever there were a thing like that for robots, but that too faded after a moment.

Through this alien experience, Jenn spoke, now a focused and professional tone that kept them aware of the moment. “Connection established. Syncing peripheries.”

The commands blinked to the brothers and passed as they both agreed without hesitation to the sync request. Oddly enough, it was almost as if they could feel each other present in the network–-plus others. Sitting comfortably in their chosen spots once more, Twii and Laa had also patched in, ready to offer their assistance; the pair of tiny companions had wireless access just the same as Jenn’s visor–-likely due to having full network permissions, if Moon had to guess, while they were stuck with a wired connection. “Alright, all set,” she said just as they all completed the cycle. “Requesting permission to access the system. First hurdle, sunshine. Even if he lets me in, the security will try to confirm the admin key so I need you to use your access to bypass it.”

“I can do that?” Sun asked worriedly.

“You can,” she assured, though she kept the how and why to herself.

//System access pending/UNVERIFIED//

>Unknown user detected_

>>Verify?

“That’s you, sunshine,” Jenn said quickly, making Sun jump.

“U-Um, alright.” The prompt was there, he felt it, but what to do wasn’t something he was sure about.

However, there wasn’t time to wonder; he made this mess and he needed to help clean it up.

Reaching out with his thoughts, Sun felt the prickle of the prompt against his processing node–-the sensations were very new and rather distracting, it was no wonder bots were offline during maintenance–-his system latching onto and identifying it as an access point to Moon’s main hub. Strings of code flickered by, some he thought he recognized, others he only felt were familiar in passing, but he only needed one. Offering himself to the prompt, there was a crackle-–a scratch as something was pulled from him before he could fully prepare himself.

The dark navy and cerulean wall behind the prompt glittered and shimmered with orange and yellow, giving away as the notes of his ID spread through the security system, causing it to admit him without fuss.

“Perfect,” Jenn’s voice said, feeling muffled as if she were in another room. Stepping back from the bizarre sensory experience of the VR connection, Sun thought he caught a glimpse of Jenn passing him, little more than a twist of blue light–-he was too slow to lean back in and see, as she entered Moon’s core and vanished from his awareness.

The invasiveness was beginning to eat away at Sun’s guilty conscience. “This is…”

Moon made a noise like something had crawled up his back, interrupting. “What the halt–”

“It’s just me,” Jenn assured, concentrating.

Steadying himself, Sun dismissed the sensation of breaching every level of privacy imaginable. It’s for the best, he told himself, eyes fixed on watching Jenn gesture and tap the air with her synthetic fingers against something in her HUD that he couldn’t see. 

“What is?” He hadn’t expected her to acknowledge him, making him jump.

“What?” Moon followed up, similarly unprepared.

“Not you.” Head turning slightly, Sun realized Jenn was indicating she meant him. “What did you say? It’s what?”

Stuttering, Sun tried to play dumb, “I-I didn’t–”

“He didn’t say anything,” Moon insisted for him.

Jenn pondered a moment. “Ah. Better keep your thoughts in check, sunshine, remember I said I could hear them in here?”

Moon snorted, “I thought that was just me?”

“Anyone on the network is subject to visibility.”

“Oh, lovely.”

“The sarcasm is unnecessary,” the human snapped, turning back to her task, which is what Moon had wanted. Sun fidgeted with his fingertips, a bit embarrassed. “It’s a shame your personality isn’t reflective of your mind.”

Moon tensed and untensed his shoulders, trying to shake the strange pressure and awareness of Jenn being in his programming. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Cuz it’s kind of nice in here but you’re prickly and rude.”

“I’m rude?!” the navy bot blurted indignantly as Sun quivered with a laugh that was trying to sneak out.

“So snarky, crinkly and rough.” Jenn bit her lip to keep from grinning, unable to help herself; the teasing served two purposes as she pulled her virtual self through the confines of Moon’s inner world, the endless twisting corridors being something she expected–-excessive, but expected. All around her the ‘walls’ shifted in coordinated, blocky patterns, opening and closing archways and door frames as she passed in an effort to make them inaccessible. Defense mechanism, she observed, knowing this had to be subconscious on his part; some part of him resisted her presence and fought to keep her contained and out of his-–well, everything. Alright, so definitely a case for awareness. Sleepers don’t behave this way.

Recounting to herself, Jenn thought back to a time before the now–-before the twins, the house, the Guild-–she knew this pattern of reactive but unwanted mental protection was a hallmark warned about in the field of assistant programming; aware, ‘awakened’ AI and standard AI had numerous tells to differentiate them. Some were obvious, such as refusal of a given order, others more subtle like moments of self-reflection–-then there’s the invisible. Under the right circumstances, with the right amount of time, a sufficiently powerful processor with well-maintained etherylle levels could spontaneously develop something ‘more’ within itself. How? No one knew for sure, but this active ‘inner world’ phenomenon was well documented as a key identifier for such traits.

It was why V-programming evolved from a scattered hobby to a regulated career path. To enter the inner world of an awakened AI was analogous to brain surgery, and absolutely necessary to provide aid to those with full faculty over themselves. While truly skilled programmers could work with aware AI manually, most met resistance from this exact phenomenon–-Jenn touched one of the shifting walls lightly, unsurprised when it buckled, blocks coming together swiftly to form a wall that followed her hand until she backed off, letting them slowly drift back to their regular pattern. Like the human mind trying to protect itself, an AI with a subconscious couldn’t help their reactivity as their minds tried to preserve themselves against the foreign influence of a programmer or hacker. V-programmers were trained to handle such circumstances with precision, accuracy and care.

A soft, single laugh caught in Jenn’s throat as she continued to follow the winding corridor, taking in the dark, ocean-like swirl of blues and blacks that made up the blocky material. She certainly wasn’t going to let him know she never quite finished training-–that his system was technically well beyond her practical skill level. Some things are best kept to oneself and improvising was her strong suit anyway.

“What’s so funny?”

The voice was both distant and everywhere, muffled yet loud–-still identifiable as Moon. Jenn turned down her headphone’s volume slightly and ignored him, focus caught in an array of stringy yellow lights that flowed and bobbed overhead, heading toward somewhere in particular. Mumbling aloud, “There we go,” Jenn followed them, turning a hard corner when they disappeared from view.

In the material plane, Moon’s vision fought him, trying to focus on something outside while also attempting to turn inward to monitor the intruder. It was dizzying, edges blurring and resharpening in sporadic beats like a camera with no point to focus on. “Hey,” he reiterated, trying to get the human to respond, voice somewhere between wary and agitated.

“I think she’s busy,” came Sun’s faint response followed by the gentle touch of his hand on Moon’s shoulder. “Let her focus.”

“I wish I knew what she was laughing at,” he grumbled, squeezing one eye closed when it fully went offline for a second. “This is… weird.”

“It looks weird,” the golden robot assured, peering from the back of Moon’s head to each of the small twins on his shoulders who had blank expressions, presumably because they were doing something important with their owner. Sitting there wasn’t doing much good for his worries, but what else could he try? Sun picked at the grass absently, rolling it between his fingers before looking back to Jenn who was completely in the zone, hands moving about repetitively as if typing something, occasionally making some sort of gesture he could only guess about the purpose of, having tuned them out entirely for the time being. “How… does it feel?”

Thinking a moment, Moon adjusted his legs, holding onto his ankles just to have something to do with his hands. “It changes moment to moment, but it’s mostly a... pressure? Like something wedged where it shouldn’t be. It’s not painful, but I… swear I feel her moving around and it’s unsettling.”

Wincing, Sun rubbed the back of his hand. “It’s no wonder they said we should be offline for stuff like this.”

“Not that we ever needed it.”

Nodding despite Moon being unable to see it, Sun couldn’t recall a single time they were offline fully for any kind of maintenance. Then again, she was very keen on keeping them safe and in good condition. Broken things were apt to simply go in the trash, as few things of hers couldn’t be replaced easily with enough money or whining.

Negotiating, Sun corrected himself, using her word for her incessant pestering of her subordinates to get what she wanted.

“Yikes!”

Jenn’s sudden blurt gave both robots a fright, Sun fumbling to catch the twins when they fell from their perches–-they both expressed their displeasure at being disturbed, mewling at him before deciding the box on the ground was a safer seat for their work. Murmuring an apology, Sun leaned over to try to see Jenn’s eyes through her visor. Only his reflection stared back, warped by the curve of the material and tinted into an odd, greenish hue from the shade of blue the visor was and the light of the aurora above shining down on it.

Running out of patience, Moon half-shouted a, “What!” when she didn’t respond further, his system surging with a flare of panic he couldn’t keep back much longer.

After a moment, she managed to speak again. “Hey, uh… so when you try to access your memories and you get an error… what does it feel like?”

Caught off guard by the question, Moon only managed, “I’m sorry, what?” as he tried to figure out the connection between her random exclamations.

Jenn huffed, seemingly disappointed in his response. “Fine, I’ll do it myself.” Her fingers flew through the air in a rapid series of motions before either brother could fully comprehend what was happening and what she was asking.

//COMMAND/TM_moon10300.sys/access%memory//

/MEMORY: TM-m_EC-FR_104567/234056.mem/

>>Accessing…

Moon shuddered, then buckled, catching himself on one hand as he let out a sound of pain. Jenn’s hands moved again, terminating the request immediately and letting him catch his breath.

Worried, Sun slid over immediately to help him right himself. “Moon, what…?”

The navy bot blinked a few times, focusing on the familiar gold and white patterns of his brother as he recalibrated. “That…” Words failed to come to him.

Affirmatively, Jenn spoke up to finish his statement, “Was definitely not normal. Memories shouldn’t cause pain like that, even if they’re corrupted.”

“Gee, really?” Moon snapped, pinching the bridge of his nose.

Ignoring his tone, she pressed, “What kind of pain was it?”

“Are you serious–”

“Answer the question, bluebell, and stop trying to throw me out or I’m going to system lock you.”

Grabbing and squeezing Moon’s hand, Sun reached past his brother with his long arm and put his other hand on Jenn’s knee, making her jump slightly; this was getting overwhelming, especially when he couldn't even see what was going on to help. “Everyone!” he tried to say calmly, but it came out wavering and thick like he was holding back tears. “Please! This is stressful enough already, can we communicate like adults, please?” The extra emphasis on the second please was far firmer than the first, giving him some sound of authority over the ordeal that worked to make the pair relax just a bit, both muttering ‘sorry’ under their breaths.

After a moment, Moon answered the question. “It was… sharp, almost… burning.”

“Ah.” Jenn hummed to herself a moment as the pair waited expectantly for something. Anything. “Twii, Laa.”

The tiny computers roused from their trances and peeped.

“Run the following processes.”

Moon straightened a bit, “Hang on–”

But Jenn continued to ignore him, listing off a handful of codes neither brother knew. “Mannus-Senta-zeth-niner. Pres-Senta-acht-ohn–”

“What–”

“--Check peripheries for anomalies, and sweep the yard for me.”

Both brothers waited a beat for her to say anything else before Moon, now confused to the point of scared, shouted, “WHAT ARE YOU DOING??”

“Calm down !” she snapped back, reaching for her head as if in pain. “I’ll tell you in just a second, just STOP with the freak out! You’re going to eject me and cause more problems!”

Pulling him close, Sun did his best to calm Moon without disturbing the delicate cables and parts that were at risk of being damaged should he move too much. Radials flitting around his head, Sun pressed Moon’s cheek to his collar, one hand on his neck and the other across his back; he hummed quietly, a nonsense melody that helped him to measure his intake and output exhaust cycle. It wasn’t the most effective method of soothing the agitated blue robot, but it worked nonetheless, Sun’s rhythmic breathing and sound inducing an attempted synchronization within Moon–-an instinctive desire to remain in harmony.

From within the VR, Jenn watched the golden lights and flickers as they pulsed and crept into each corner of the labyrinth in time to Sun’s breathing pattern. For each wave of light that came, the blocks became less firm and orderly, drifting back into slow pathways and patterns that gave her more space to move; the defenses were certainly top notch, she felt, having descended on her before she could consider how to handle them, blocking her into one space and dragging her from where she’d been standing. Able to walk freely again, Jenn returned to that spot and looked up, concerned.

The wall with the memory code was burnt. A cavernous, black hole where the file construct should have been stood in its place, scuff marks criss-crossing the walls as if it were dragged out by force. It wasn’t the only one either-–various, seemingly random memories had similar wounds that got more and more frequent as she filed down the corridor, heading to the most recently dated section. That place was pure carnage.

While pink and purple lights joined the golden yellow one around her–-Twii and Laa doing as asked–-Jenn observed the damage while trying to not feel nauseous, grateful that odor wasn’t an issue in the VR as the whole area would likely smell burnt if so. Pondering to herself, This isn’t just a system error, she followed the damaged, glitching debris to the furthest side, keeping herself from trying to touch any of them by busying her hands with the prompt windows the twins gave her as they did their diagnostic sweeps. The external check while the brothers were offline before was extremely surface level, nothing that would cause their unconscious to act out or retain impressions from-–this delver was deeper, more thorough, and helped her to confirm the twisting suspicion building in her gut. Something ripped these memories kicking and screaming from their storage place.

The suspicious feeling she’d had since the pair arrived and she cracked them open to fix them was building back in full force, buzzing in her mind as she came to the end of the memory storage allocation zone.

Something was there that definitely shouldn’t be.

Tall, blacker than black and looming like a cliff over the rest of the construct, a block of impassable virtual defenses sat rooted in the metaphorical ground of the representation of Moon’s memory. A literal manifestation of its namesake. Something that shouldn’t be there; that did not belong to a standard Task Manager model–-something she knew very well, and hated that she did.

Silently, Jenn opened her command screen once more.

//COMMAND//

/RUN: J-BBW%check_sys_MAG307-EVR.exe/

>Processing…

“What was that?” Moon’s voice again, calmer.

Dismissively, “Don’t worry about it.”

“Excuse you.”

Taking a measured breath, Jenn backed away from the block of darkness, retreating from the corrupted memory area to gather her thoughts. “Well… I’ve got good news and bad news.”

The brothers waited, tense, but determined to remain calm. They had changed their seating positions to both face Jenn, who was still blacked out behind her visor and performing unknown gestures they’d long since given up on deciphering.

“Bad news? You do, in fact, have memory damage.”

Moon rolled his eyes.

“Like, severe. They aren’t just corrupted, they’re gone.”

A cold chill stilled them both; it took all of Sun’s self control to keep back the panic that followed behind his fearful acknowledgment of this fact.

“Good news.” Final pings were coming in from the sweeps the twins had done that all came up clear, which was a relief, but Jenn needed to wait for her last process to finish; confessing this fact would buy time, but it required her to be careful in her wording. “I know where they are.”

Quietly, Sun uttered, “What?” as Moon’s brow creased. “Aren’t they… gone?”

“Yeah, cuz they were yanked, but I know by what.”

They couldn't help the anticipation as they leaned forward.

Be cool, play dumb, Jenn told herself, making sure her voice was open and not suspicious. “You have a black box.”

It was an unfamiliar term to them, though Moon felt a bit perturbed by this. Something felt… unsurprising about this, yet he knew he didn’t know what that was. “And that is…?”

Jenn’s breath slowed as her back tensed slightly. Please don’t be lying about not knowing, she prayed, still waiting for the final ping. Distract them. “It's… how do I explain?” She purposefully made some hand gestures as she spoke, to try and keep their focus and push her honesty–-Jenn was well aware of her hand-talking habit and how to use it to her advantage as an indicator of genuineness. “It’s like a back up memory storage area designed to preserve things in the event of a critical shutdown. It’s very rare,” she added on quickly, trying to spin details in a way that wouldn’t alarm them, “but tends to pop up in high end models if their owners are concerned about their safety. It sort of takes a snapshot of your whole system to preserve for recovery, but can also focus on specific things. I think this one was supposed to copy your memories if you crashed–” Sun flinched, “-but the process got messed up.”

That was a lie, at least in part, but a necessary one to test their reactions. If the game was up, she could at least shut Moon down before he could do any damage–-but on the chance they truly didn’t know? There were a million variables at play, too many for her to consider right this moment, but she knew now for sure that they were absolutely not normal Task Managers. Not Quicksilver or Goldlight. Not even Nebula class. None of those models carried black boxes in them–-boxes designed to hide secrets and survive for collection.

None of them were made with military grade parts like that.

As if confirming her fear, the final ping came up on Jenn’s HUD.

[System unable to process command MAGNUS-EVER. Clearance not granted.]

Fear grabbed onto her gut with sharp claws and dragged her back to her body as she cleared the prompt and began to disengage, using everything in herself to remain calm. They had not acted on her knowledge, had not corrected her-–maybe, just maybe, they didn’t know.

Maybe.

Just maybe--

--it was only the Moondrop? Stupid as it was to consider, knowing how these things worked, Jenn couldn't help but pray that maybe, just maybe, this was a recon situation. But she had to confirm. She had to get to the binder in her sitting room–-it would tell her if the Sunrise was up to spec. There was no way they would go to such lengths just to get back at her… right?

A nervous laugh crept its way out of her mouth as Jenn disengaged the headset and was met with two pairs of curious eyes–-eyes that made her blood run cold despite the curiosity and concern in them. “More bad news,” she went on, covering her slip up, “I can’t fix it myself.” Their expressions fell with disbelief. “I don’t have the equipment I need to get into something like a black box here. But,” this was the bait, “I know a guy that does.”

A heartbeat passed.

Then another.

“Would they help us?”

Jenn took a slow breath, barely aware of the twins curling up against her neck as they finished their tasks and demanded praise and pets for it, having prepared for them to react to her claim with hostility–-violence, even. But this wasn’t that. Only genuine, desperate need to find a solution to their problem; that much was obvious from how the Moondrop had spoken. No sarcasm or spite, only a lingering hope for a resolution.

Yet what if that was exactly what they were waiting for?

‘... when conditions are met...’

The words buzzed in her head, a mental snippet of a memory from a news article–-no, a lecture? Not that either. Familiar, yet it felt a thousand years in the past and she was too wary to try and recall the specifics. All that mattered was that they were a threat only when the ‘right conditions’ were fulfilled.

Jenn had no idea what that could possibly be.

A decision had to be made. Quickly. Do I risk it or save my skin? Against her better judgment, Jenn felt her gaze drawn upward, over the trees to the yellow and green aurora meandering over the sky. If I’m right then this will be very bad for all of us, but if I’m wrong… The lights shimmered soothingly, a ripple dipping down randomly and turning purple at the edges. Feeling the tension easing, the human sighed. I’m taking that as a yes, she mused to the indifferent lights, deciding to gamble on being wrong.

If push came to shove, improvising was her strong suit.

“He might,” she finally said, looking back down where the pair had been watching her with deep anticipation but also a touch of fear for her answer. “Thing is, it’s a long journey there and you two are… sorely underprepared for it.”

Hope reignited, Sun sat forward, voice eager. “It doesn’t matter the distance. Can we prepare for it? Where is he?”

Jenn gestured for him to settle with her hand, halting the string of questions he seemed to have on standby. “Look, this entire thing is a mess and clearly something happened to you two that’s honestly really thakking suspicious.” The boys both dipped their heads guiltily. “I’m not going to pry into your personal lives, but I think the best thing for all of us right now is to chill out and get our heads on straight. I don’t know if there are any other issues to worry about from that magnetic storm that could cause problems on a long journey so, for all our sakes, we’re going to rest, relax and sort ourselves out. Got it?”

Squeezing his jaw shut against the insistence he felt bubble up, Moon nodded, knowing it was probably smart to do exactly that. Studying his brother’s reaction, Sun also kept his insistence to himself and only nodded.

“Good. Now answer me this, because I have an idea of what caused the crash that goofed up your system recovery but I need you to be honest about it.”

They both peered into Jenn’s bright blue eyes as they flicked between meeting their gazes, prepared for something they didn’t want to answer.

“Who tried to pull your tracking chip out?”

Moon stilled entirely, his field of vision darkening to a single point as he processed what she asked. “Tracking chip…?” His own voice sounded distant to him, mumbled together as he tried to get his mouth to work against the surging panic.

Tracking chip. Tracking chip–-tracker–-you were being tracked this entire time–-they know where you are-–idiot. You should have known, of course she would track you down!

Popping jolted him from his spiral. Moon blinked back to the present, seeing Jenn’s hand in front of his face as she snapped her fingers at him. “Hey. Look at me.” Hard, yellow eyes focused on hers. Her face. Blonde hair. Human. “Don’t worry about them.”

He blinked, unable to speak; probably for the best or he would have just shouted again.

Sun touched the back of his head–-then flinched as he realized it was bare, his components still exposed–-the words ‘tracking chip’ humming incessantly, trying to vibrate him off the edge of his self control into a fearful abyss of panic.

“I took the liberty of removing them while you were out. I assumed that you were running from something and being tracked remotely would kind of thakk that up–-plus I didn’t want the smoke so I pulled them myself. I have the stuff for that at least. Aquila took them far away from here so their last ping would be miles from us and had her drop them there.”

Moon settled only slightly knowing this, settling into confusion that this human would be willing to hide them so readily-–even if she benefited from it in some way. Sun was more resistant to this knowledge, the guilt washing over him without warning or preparation.

“But.”

Sun’s circuits wanted to jump out of his shell. Everything felt wrong inside him. Out of place.

“Yours,” Jenn pointed at Moon, “wasn’t secured, and given what happened to your brain I’m betting someone tried to yank it without the right tools and it corrupted your memory recovery feature when you crashed. Was it whoever you were running from?”

Moon’s head twitched in a half shake. “That wouldn’t make sense.” Yet he couldn't figure out who it could have been otherwise.

Quietly, barely louder than a breath, Sun spoke, unable to bear the guilt anymore. “Actually… that’s my fault.”

Chapter Text

Glittering, shimmering, perfect.

The aurora’s yellow glimmer reflected off the hundreds of panels of glass that littered the skyline like precious jewels, all lit from within by the wondrous generators laid out in underground chambers that formed the base of E’rta City. Each one meticulously crafted, cleaned and updated to better regulate the supply of etherylle and electricity as the city demanded; each one belonging to Oinn Energy & Supply, itself a jewel in the figurative crown of Vissara Oinn, the CEO. Had it suited her, the middle aged woman would wear such a thing without a hint of irony, however such gaudy things had fallen out of fashion eons before her ancestors set the groundwork for their legacy in energy cultivation.

Vissara was nothing if not modern.

The term ‘ivory tower’ was an old one, supposedly meant to denote wealth and privilege without being literal, but for Vissara it very much was both. Turning from the window, she tucked a stray black hair behind her ear and approached her desk, a fine piece of rare dark wood that stood out starkly among the white and gray marble walls laced with gold trim and filigree. She found the dark spot to be suitably unnerving in its isolation to those who found themselves in the luxurious walls of her private office, as if it made them so very aware of their own misplacement in her presence. This pleased the woman every time she saw eyes shift nervously across the room or weight switch from foot to foot as they felt the hollow weight bear down on them from a room too big, too empty, too tall to be comfortable in.

She found comfort in that emptiness and the power is held over the minds of the socially stagnated.

The comm unit on her desk beeped just as she reached her chair. With a faint flicker of a smile always in place, Vissara touched the Open Link button gently with a ruby and gold gelled nail. “Yes?” she purred, expecting something good.

“Silvon is here,” the small voice on the other side replied.

“Ah,” the woman mused, smile widening with genuine happiness, “perfect, perfect! Send him in!”

No sooner had she hung up the comm than the great carved doors of the office opened with a groan, a single lean human standing there patiently. Dressed with fine lilacs and chains, the masculine human stepped into the room, round glasses frames shining in the brightness. “Miss Oinn,” they greeted with typical monotone.

Approaching them gracefully, Vissara’s heels clicked over the marble floor as she stepped off the carpet with barely contained eagerness. “Excellent timing, as always,” the woman mused, stopping a few strides away from her guest. “Tell me good news, Silvon. Have you found my boys yet?”

Faded magenta irises gazed evenly, unbothered by the stark echo of heelsteps off the walls and oppressive emptiness they knew Vissara was so keen on using to intimidate others. “News, yes, but I can’t say it’s good.”

Painted lips pursed in an overplayed pout. “Well that’s not what I wanted to hear.”

“My apologies.” Silvon knew not to play into her act; unlike her lavish material things, they knew Vissara herself to be one thing: fake. Nothing she said or did could be taken at face value, whether it was a business deal or a pout that was suspiciously too coy to be genuine. Always, she was waiting. Baiting. “The rebels were mostly contained and interrogated, however a handful of them were witnessed escaping the bounds of the city, heading into the jungle.”

Lacquered nails folded together patiently. “I’m not going to like this, am I?”

Eyes closing behind wide rimmed glasses, Silvon continued, “We believe your ‘boys’ were taken by those who managed to escape.”

“Of course.” True disappointment was rare to hear in the woman’s voice, and this was no different a time; she’d expected this on some level, Silvon thought. “First they ruin my party, then they take my treasures. Horrid! All because they disagreed with the relocation effort.”

An involuntary tic hit Silvon’s jaw, forcing them to clamp it down firmly and avoid speaking up about her use of the term ‘relocation’. This was not the time. “If it would please you, miss Oinn, I can contact the provider and have them… remade for you.”

“Now why would I do that?”

Silvon’s eyes opened, meeting the unreadable, faintly grinning face of Vissara as she stared them down, manicured hand laying on her cheek in a mockery of worry. “Pardon?” They tried to keep disappointment from giving away their feelings about her answer.

“Certainly, I can go out anywhere and just buy a new Sun and Moon, but they won’t be mine . Anyone can go out and buy a trophy from a prop shop and have it engraved with their name and some mediocre accomplishment if they wanted to–-but would that make the trophy in any way valuable?”

Uselessly searching her face for an answer, Silvon took a slow breath. “No, ma’am.”

“Precisely,” she hummed, a finger pointing to the human for a moment as if playfully taunting them. “Awards are valuable because they’re gifted–-earned . I earned those boys with my tact and forethought.” Silvon’s jaw twitched again. “If I just buy another set, they won’t have that same meaning. Being gifted new ones is just cheap, it won’t be the same as the first time. No, I want my boys back, and if that means tracking those awful renegades across the greater part of Per’iah then so be it.”

Steadily, Silvon nodded. “Of course. I’ll let the company know how you want to proceed and–”

“Oh, don’t bother.” A flash of red caught Silvon’s eye as the woman waved her hand dismissively, trotting back to her desk to open a hapscreen laden with files all marked by photos of people Silvon only barely recognized. “I’ve already invested in a special group of scruffies to track them down.”

Concern cut through Silvon’s mind for a moment, urging them to speak up. “Scruffies, ma’am? Really?”

“Well, the Runners won’t do it, I already asked,” she mused with that same fake pout.

“Really?” They found that hard to believe.

“The scruffies were cheaper and there are more of them so there’s more chance of success, right?”

Silvon knew that wasn’t the reason–-and that Vissara knew they knew-–but bringing up details of the ‘relocation’ was a fast way to end up on the underside of a steamroller if one wasn’t careful. The Free Runner Guild rarely turned down jobs, especially high paying ones, but they didn’t have their reputation for nothing; quite a few folk in and out of the Guild disagreed with miss Oinn’s business decisions, regardless of their reason for being made. Money was certainly not the issue for this woman, Silvon knew very well, and was willing to bet it was because she was still on the infamous no-job list the Guild purportedly had for those rare individuals whose reputations would tarnish the Guild’s just by association.

Silvon did not blame them one bit.

“For my own sake, then,” the lilac-dressed human insisted, one hand on their chest as they gave a shallow bow, “I would like to have the makers represented. They already have… an idea to help the specialists out.”

Sitting on the edge of the wooden desk, Vissara huffed, crossing her legs to show the red bottom of her far-too-expensive heels as her foot bounced rhythmically to her thoughts.

Sensing a chance, Silvon went on, “They also have some connections worth pursuing for information I’d like to utilize.”

“Oh?”

A faint smirk graced Silvon’s lips for just a second as they straightened up, seeing genuine curiosity in the woman’s eyes. “Not everyone in the Guild is as… morally stagnant as the Guild itself can be.”

Recognition flickered in Vissara’s eyes as she understood what was being implied. Red lips thinned as they stretched into an amused, cold smile, revealing perfect teeth behind them. “If that’s the case, then assist away.” Gracefully, she waved a hand, palm up, as both a gesture to continue and as a dismissal.

Taking this chance, Silvon nodded and turned to the door, leaving as it slowly creaked shut in their wake, leaving the horrid woman to ponder over her choices in isolation. Quickly, Silvon stepped out into the garden of the estate, barely aware of the flock of snow-white Cygnus cranes occupying the pond that took up most of the view from the patio. A few of them peeked up at them as they passed, but couldn’t be bothered to do anything except stand there, as per their programming. No matter.

At the edge of the lawn, far from any possible devices or ears, Silvon cast a quick eye around before pressing their left earlobe between their fingers. In the same moment, they opened a comm link screen on the wrist unit made to appear like they were on a call in the event of possible eavesdroppers. The call did not go through on the comm however. Rather, the lens of their glasses blinked as small numerals danced at the edges, establishing a direct link to a hidden number; the haptic activator had been a bit uncomfortable at first, but earlobe call implants were becoming more common and were far easier to hide than wires and watches were. No one thought twice in passing about someone rubbing their ear, after all.

The comm link flickered to a screen that appeared to be connected just as the real call connected in the lens of Silvon’s glasses; the fake screen showed a generic company link profile titled ‘Exxona Company’ with a number and site link that, if used, would connect to a working webpage and comm relay.

Just in case.

The true call going on in Silvon’s ear was lacking in any flourish, the relay screen only showing a string of characters that denoted the private link and an indicator they were connected. A click assured the call was answered, despite no voice confirming such.

Quietly, Silvon spoke, just enough to be heard by the recipient.

“The skies are clear. We are ready to take wing.”

~

“Thakk me.”

Head in her hand, Jenn stared a hole into the wall behind her desk, foot tapping rapidly against the cel-metal flooring of the lab. Her pulse was thrumming–-she could tell purely based on the fact her collar bone was practically vibrating in her chest–-but nothing short of a macrodose of numbing sedative was going to fix it. Over and over, thoughts cycled, replaying the day, the talk, trying to find something to latch onto. An angle, a detail–-anything to begin explaining the cockamamie situation she found herself in with any amount of plausible rationale.

But there wasn’t any.

“So then I make some,” she affirmed, speaking out loud to try and distract her mind as she got up and began to pace between the desk and the table. The lab was both secure and soundproof so there was no way to be overheard–though it also necessitated she leave her guests unsupervised yet again until she had her thoughts squared away. “‘Walk yourself through it’ as dad would say.” Pausing, Jenn turned on her heel and yanked her chair from its position at the desk, hauling open a drawer rife with pens, rubber bands and other office paraphernalia to find an erasable marker. Clearing space with a sweep of her arm, she climbed onto the desk and sat, knees sprawled, to better reach the whiteboard full of miscellaneous bits and bobs that covered most of the wall over her desk.

She popped the cap off the marker with her teeth and began to write, dragging random magnets that littered the edges of the board into place to help organize her thoughts as she scribbled down the things she knew so far. “They’re from here…” Pulling a paper map fragment down from the corner of the board, she drew a large circle over an area near the bottom and stamped it into place with a magnet, the marker cap plopping into her lap. “The storm dropped them here.” The marker squeaked as she made an arrow. “So they likely got yanked here…” Another squeak.

Glancing quickly between the points, she began to write on the board itself an equation. “Class-D means lowest possible wind speed… the ridge is about… that far across… to make it here then they probably hit the peak of the arc here…” A few moments later she’d plotted a handful of probable distances and velocities to reference off of, a smudge of marker on her hand from erasing mislabelled numbers. “Alright so they survived that fall, and regular market grade alloy tends to be decorative, not functional.”

Pausing, she turned and pulled the elusive binder toward herself from where she’d shoved it moments before, flipping the pages to the section labeled ‘Sunrise and Moondrop’. On the left hand edge of the base diagrams were notes about material grades; she tapped the casing list with her finger. “Yeah, alright, exactly what I thought. Durmacite’s inherent tensile strength is barely better than copper, so they’re definitely not In Market.”

Jenn’s eyes skimmed the diagram for what felt like the hundredth time. “I knew that though.”

Tearing her focus back to the board, she wrote these observations down. “Military grade material, likely a titanium alloy of some sort, or ceralium if they really didn’t cut corners… then there’s that stuff.” Jenn’s free hand balled into a fist, voice dropping to a murmur. “I haven’t been to that city in ages, so if they were after me why would their location history be from E’rta? None of their parts had the institute’s logo on it, so it couldn’t have been their work…”

After a moment, Jenn began to scribble a shape onto the board. “There was a logo though.” Imperfect a recollection as it was, the symbol was legible; two Xs stacked atop each other with a single dot in the center where they met. It was unfamiliar to her. “So that’s probably their maker… or at least the parts supplier. The company wouldn’t buy in what they could make at the institute–” Her hand dropped onto her thigh, the marker tip tapping her leg wetly and causing her to jump. “Shekt.”

Futilely, she wiped at the mark on her leg but it only smeared more, leaving a bright, red streak behind. “Fine, whatever.” Huffing, she fidgeted with the marker in her fingers, trying to reclaim her train of thought.

Jenn didn’t notice the small, purple smudge climb its way out of the vent hole above her head.

“Those stooges shouldn’t be able to afford shoelaces, let alone the material to build two Infiltration Class units, nevermind it’s super illegal to do so.”

Laa slipped down from the ceiling and hovered behind Jenn’s shoulder, peering at her patiently.

Stomach twisting, Jenn swallowed and found her throat dry. “Alright… so let’s say they aren’t from the institute or the company. They apparently got here by accident, and have no idea what they are, let alone built to do.” Glancing into her lap, she found the maker cap had rolled off somewhere. “--piss.”

Laa cheeped at her.

Screaming, Jenn flailed–with a rush, her knee slipped from the edge of the desk and took her with it, her body slamming into the floor with a clatter and bang. The marker sailed to the far side of the lab, papers scattered–the purple companion tilted her head curiously at her mother who was laid out on the ground, senseless and groaning. Some minutes later, Jenn finally picked herself up, head and neck throbbing from hitting the metallic floor with all her weight.

“Laa,” she chided, “What have I told you about that? You can let me know you’re there when you get there .”

The small unit stared for a moment, then peeped once dismissively.

“Yes, it’s rude to interrupt but it’s also rude to scare the piss out of someone.”

Laa peeped again in the same tone and turned to look at the board, leaving Jenn to pick herself up slowly.

“Actually, now that you’re here,” the human mused, noticing her companion’s focus on the notes and pointing to the X logo, “can you do a quick search for this symbol or any variations of it? For parts and materials suppliers of Task Managers.”

Giving an affirmative whistle, Laa studied the logo for a bit before her eyes began to flicker–a second later she stopped and shook her head.

“Ah,” Jenn grunted with surprise. “That was quick–what do you mean no?”

Craning her head up, Laa projected a small hologram from the mark in the center of her display that read ‘No Matching Results’.

“Well… that’s not right.” Concern was becoming the dominant feeling in Jenn’s mind–not for herself, but for the robots in her house–as every answer she found only brought more questions and none of them were good. “There’s nothing?”

Laa’s eyes flashed again for a moment longer, searching for anything that matched the logo even slightly, but it ended the same: a slow shake of the head.

Hand to her mouth, Jenn’s mind began to race once more. “Military parts from an unknown manufacturer, runaway bots from a city I haven't been to in months, no reaction to my prodding and no desire to stay put…”

“There we go.”

Jenn turned the corner, hot on heels–tails?--of the flickering lights only to halt as the threads scattered, winding down various corridors filled with shimmering blocks of memory displays on either side. Awestruck, Jenn walked slowly, taking in the cycling loops of memory snippets carefully as she passed each one. Most–actually, almost all of them–were in the same locations: a white marble office with a single, dark desk in the middle; a lush garden under willows that sheltered beautiful white Cygnus cranes in the grasses; a dining hall decorated with banners emblazoned with company logos, dozens of bodies milling about with a group clamoring around a tall figure that could only be the Sunrise model; a room with a single window in the ceiling where Uls peeked in, faintly illuminating the bedsheets; a small space full of dust and cleaning supplies.

Over and over the same places, a frightening number of them being scenes of empty rooms–though that could simply be missing context due to the selective nature of the snippets chosen to represent the larger memory. It wasn’t until the datestamps began to read as recent that the snippets had some variation to them; curious, Jenn reached out and placed her hand on one of the clips, pulling it out from its module. The screen unfolded into a large display, the scene taken from Moon’s perspective being one of a lacquered wood floor laid in a complicated, repeating diamond pattern–it shifted as he lifted his head to see Sun standing tip-toe, stretching to tie something onto the highest point of a pillar, one of many that lined the edge of the room.

Jenn swiped the screen away back onto its module; as she pulled her hand back, something ashen caught her eye. On her fingertips was… residue?

That’s not normal.

Faintly, she could hear them talking about something or other, but the details could wait. Pulling the screen out again, Jenn ignored it to place her hand into the module itself where the screen had been, rubbing across it and pulling back to find her palm fully darkened by black, metallic dust. Without thinking, the human leaned into the panel vacancy and started rubbing the alcove carefully, brushing her fingers over the surface–a jagged bump caught her ring finger. Tracing it slowly, she realized it was a crack, masked by the deep, black soot to be invisible at a glance.

Jenn followed the line of the crack steadily until it reached the edge of the module and disappeared; she found she could almost wedge her fingers into the wall if she pressed hard enough, but all that it managed to do was cover her in the burnt residue filling the alcove. Jaw set with concern and curiosity, Jenn closed the panel once more and marched to the next turn to try and find another trace of the crack that shouldn’t be there.

She made a hard right at the next junction–

“Yikes!”

Scorch marks.

They were everywhere, cutting into the floor and walls, some of the edges still seeming to smolder with purple and green embers. It was as if a wildfire had ripped through the corridor, chewing its way through modules and files in its rampage. She knew then this was not a normal system failure.

She’d seen this before…

It was some minutes after that horrid discovery that Jenn confirmed the worst; while Moon deigned to question every choice and request she made, Jenn took it upon herself to get answers. She’d found an uncorrupted memory file nearby and played it side-by-side with the burnt one, finding an odd bit of dialogue between the brothers that started the entire path of confusion she currently found herself on. 

“You can’t genuinely think we’re going to stay here? Can you?”

They had been arguing–vaguely, she’d realized it was the very argument she’d caught a stray fragment of while on her journey to recover her binder. It was baffling to know that they weren’t meant to or intending to stay there, as it fully contradicted her initial worry they were there to kill her. With that knowledge, regardless of whether she was supposed to know it or not, plus the other scant details she’d picked up all served to reinforce the wiggly feeling in her gut that doubted what her fear first tried to force on her.

These two were not here to hurt her.

She was not their target.

“Laa.” Jenn’s voice was soft and low. “Have there been any newsworthy incidents in the area in or around E’rta City the last… month or so?”

Eyes flickering, Laa found a handful of articles in seconds, each one popping up as a haptic prompt before the small robot. Picking through them, Jenn swiped away any that didn’t quite fit what she felt she was seeking; for each one that she dismissed, another filled its place. A dozen of them were banished back to the depths of the e-web before something finally caught her eye.

‘Anti-Relocation Protestors Crash Celebratory Banquet’.

Her gut twisted and her heart skipped in a dreadful way, which she knew as a feeling to be obeyed without question. Opening the article, Jenn’s blue eyes skimmed through it rapidly; as she did, she focused on certain words just long enough that Laa’s eye tracking picked up on it. The purple bot found reference-paired articles relating to the terms and had them at the ready for her mother to open when needed.

This was a rabbit hole that needed to be explored thoroughly.

~

Moon jolted, coming to wakefulness suddenly. Initial scans of the immediate environment came back clean. Vaguely he knew where he was despite it not being terribly familiar, yellow eyes darting quickly from corner to corner, seeking changes or disturbances.

Door: shut.

Lights: dim.

Couch: occupied.

He paused, focusing on the couch a moment longer. The occupant rolled, a long, golden arm slipping off the edge, dragging along the floor.

Just Sun.

Relieved, Moon picked himself up from the lounging seat, stepping lightly on the balls of his feet; he knelt and gently placed his brother’s arm back on the couch, leaving only a lingering stroke of the finger against the lanky robot’s head. Rest, Moon thought to him, standing and taking a step back with practiced, silent ease.

Something had woken him, but it hadn’t been Sun’s tossing nor any change in the room he could perceive. Closing his eyes, Moon listened, focusing on the air, the lights with their nearly silent hum–-a faint sizzle.

Sizzle?

Brow furrowed, Moon exited the lounge room, moving methodically through the small house; the sound was louder here, coming from around the curve. Olfactory sensors also picked up on an odor that was somehow familiar, but not in a way he could place: oily, thick, vaguely sweet. With quick, light steps, the dark robot made his way to the source of the sound, coming to the edge of the doorframe leading to the kitchen. Something within moved just out of sight.

He pressed his back to the wall, head tilted to catch any faint sound of someone approaching but only heard a clatter and clink. Dishes being moved? Shuffling. Bubbling.

Moon felt something wet brush his fingertips. Taking a glance, he saw water had gathered in dark bubbles along the tips of each digit, at the ready for him should he need it. He tucked his prepared hand behind his back to keep it hidden and half-crouched, reaching for the doorframe; the occupant made another loud clatter.

He stepped, turning into the kitchen–-

Blue eyes met his, his step faltering just a fraction. Something clicked in his head.

“Well-woken,” the human greeted him, one hand holding a flat wooden spoon while the other gripped the handle of a cast iron pan wrapped with a dish towel. “Sorry if I made too much sound.”

Moon stared for a heartbeat, confused, then flicked his fingers to dismiss the water still collected in his hand before she could notice he was hiding something. This was her house , what on Azil was he doing?? “Ah, no.” The sizzle was coming from the skillet. She was cooking. The smell was food. “I tend to wake up on my own. Heard… something and came to look.”

Jenn turned as he spoke, scooping spoonfuls of whatever it was onto plates; an ache began in his circuits, followed by a small notice on his HUD.

//Battery recovery limited; organic Re_cycler empty/

He was hungry.

“It’s just me, big blue,” Jenn mused with an odd amount of civility. “After yesterday, I figured you both would be pretty hungry so I decided to make breakfast. Is your brother awake?”

“Not yet.” Something was off. Searching the room, it was more or less the same as the last time he’d been there, yet he could feel a change in the air. The Sirius-–Rukbat-–was under the table gnawing away at something, Jenn was wearing the same clothes she’d been in before but she had her hair pulled back while working; for all intents and purposes, this was a normal scene in a normal house. Moon felt…

Misplaced.

“Well,” Jenn’s voice kept him in the moment, her tone much more open than he remembered it being previously, “come sit, I’m making kefin. I can go wake the sleeping princess.”

His jaw tensed, body already turning to exit the kitchen. “No, I can–”

Jenn snapped her fingers at him and pointed at the seat he’d used the day before, her eyes glinting with authority. “Eat.”

Sitting, Moon scowled as Jenn exited, gaze following her over the threshold; it was there that something caught his attention for a fraction of a second. The hem of Jenn’s shirt was hanging low on her shoulders as a strap slid from its place; as she corrected it, a twist of discolored skin beneath the fabric under her arm peeked out. Studying it acutely before she got too far, he realized there were other marks dotting her skin at her back mostly hidden by her top. Now that he’d seen one he couldn’t help but notice others in various places.

Scars? he wondered briefly, but she had turned the corner and was gone before he got a good read on them.

A tap at his foot got him to lean down and look under the table, unsurprised to see Rukbat staring up at him, tongue lolling happily. The canine waved his paw, tapping Moon’s foot again.

“Can I help you?” the blue bot wondered rhetorically.

Rukbat whined softly, jaws closing and opening.

“Are you asking for food?”

Jaws closed with a louder urf , his tail thumping against the floor.

“Well, this is mine. You should ask your maker.”

Ur-wurf.

“Excuse you.”

~

Jenn leaned into the dim lounge and peeked around, seeing nothing unusual. Sun was still laid out on the couch, the only piece of furniture that had a hope of holding his long self with any kind of comfort, facing the back cushion. Approaching quietly, the human took a moment to study her unexpected guest, the natural curiosity in her begging for a closer look.

Gold and white and orange, meticulously decorated and placed patterns of alternating color, rose tinted inner musculature structures, light-optic eyelashes that would shimmer and glow while awake–he was beautifully built, Jenn noted. Both of them were, bearing the same patterns and aesthetic choices though with minor variations here and there, one made of day’s warm hues and wakeful light and the other the dark, deep shadows and coolness of those rare nights where the Sky-Beyond-the-Sky was visible to all of Azil. Those patterns held weight to them, though, that made her skin crawl after everything she’d read. A sick joke they were not privy to know they were part of.

She laid her hand on the delicate shoulder of the golden bot and gave him a gentle shake. “Wakey wakey.” Nothing. She drummed her fingers against his cheek, cooing, “It’s time to get uuuuuuuuup.” His face scrunched a bit. “I made breakfast.”

Sun’s eyes opened, lashes flaring to life with light. He jumped slightly as Jenn snatched her hand back, radials blinking to life as he cycled into wakefulness and sat up. “Ah–hel–um–well… woken?”

“Geeze–” Jenn yelped, holding her hand over her eyes against the bright white and orange light Sun’s radials gave off in the dim room.

“Oh!” Quickly, Sun retracted the main array which brought his luminosity down to a more reasonable level. “I’m so sorry!”

Blinking the spots out of her eyes, Jenn picked herself up. “No, it’s fine, I forgot about the light. Anyway, there’s food in the kitchen, come on.”

Quickly, Sun got up, pausing only to fix his shirt before following the small human out of the lounge. As the lighting changed and grew brighter outside, he allowed his radials to fully reform, keeping pace at Jenn’s heel politely as she led him down the somewhat familiar hallway to the cluttered, cozy kitchen. He was somewhat surprised to see Moon already there, a plate lifted over his head to keep it away from the begging mouth of Rukbat who’d gotten up and placed his paws on the seat in an effort to nick a snack.

“Rukbat-al-Rami!” Jenn snapped, getting the canine’s ears to pin and tail to tuck as he crawled back under the table. “Yeah. You know what you did. Naughty.”

Sun tensed at her harsh tone, meeting Moon’s gaze as the dark robot slowly put his plate down on the table now that it was safe to do so.

Grabbing a dish off the kitchen counter, Jenn marched around the room to the door in the back; her gaze was fixed on the form of Rukbat as he slowly padded after her, looking dejected. “You know better. You’re being a bad boy.”

Both brothers recoiled slightly, Moon tearing his gaze from them in discomfort, Sun raising a hand in a plea. “Please don’t,” he tried to say, “it’s not an issue. You don’t have to punish him.” Moon winced.

Jenn raised a brow at Sun. “Punish him?” She opened the door, revealing it led to the patio. “I hardly think being let outside is a punishment. Besides,” her gaze snapped back to the canine, “he knows what he did. Bad bots eat outside.” The dish clunked as she placed it around the corner of the door, waiting for Rukbat to guiltily pad his way through so she could shut it behind him. “What? Did you think I was gonna shut him in a closet or something?”

Despite it being in a humorous tone, neither brother dared to acknowledge the claim, both avoiding her gaze as she looked between them. Sun waited patiently at the counter, Moon shoved a mouthful of egg and starch into his mouth. The silence was alarmingly awkward.

“Right.” Disquieted, Jenn served Sun his plate and poured herself a mug of kefin, offering them each a cup. Moon declined, but accepted water, while Sun quietly asked for more tea if it wasn’t inconvenient. “Sure,” she went about getting the mixture ready without hesitation. “How’re you boys feeling then?”

The brothers shared a look, Moon catching the faintest flicker of guilt in Sun’s teal eyes as he looked away abruptly; Moon’s shoulders sagged slightly.

Politely, Sun lifted a spoon of scramble to his mouth, a bit surprised to find it wasn’t unpleasant. Simple, lightly seasoned and buttery–a far cry from what he’d normally be given for breakfast. “This is good!” he blurted as Jenn placed the tea he’d requested in front of him, moving the sweetener over so he wouldn’t need to reach across for it. She remembered? he wondered faintly, murmuring thanks.

“You don’t have to suck up to me,” Jenn replied dryly, a half grin on her face as she leaned against the counter, cradling her mug of black, caffeinated bliss. “It’s just a scramble, I didn’t know what you boys liked so I went simple.”

“But it is! Isn’t it, Moon?”

He wanted to agree by reflex, but beyond the first bite to avoid saying anything, he’d failed to eat any more. Too many things bubbled in his head to allow him to focus on eating. “It’s… good.”

Jenn rolled her eyes. “Don’t lie to spare my feelings, I’ll make something more suited to your tastes later.”

Moon snapped his gaze to her. “‘Our taste’?”

She met him with the icy glint that he recognized. “It doesn’t take a genius to reason out that Goldlight Sunrise and Moondrop models tend to end up only in the hands of the very wealthy and affluent. People that can afford delicacies as snacks and rare ingredients as a daily staple. Or are you telling me you didn’t get fed?”

“You ask a lot of questions for someone who claims it's not your business.” Unwilling to share the details of their old lives even by accident, Moon shoved another bite into his mouth; he didn’t dislike the dish, but now he simply didn’t want to give her the satisfaction of praise.

“And you have a smart mouth for someone that was two steps shy of trespassing.” Jenn made a loud sip in her mug, the drink still hot enough to burn her mouth if she wasn’t careful. The roasted, dark delight made her groan slightly, eyes half closing as she enjoyed the bitter taste for a moment.

Sun studied her face as she relaxed, noticing something odd. Did she seem pale? With his middle finger, Sun gave a quick tap-tap on the table,a minute motion that served to get his brother’s attention discreetly. It worked, Moon’s eyes snapping to his hand, then to him in acknowledgement. Carefully, Sun flicked his gaze from Moon to Jenn and back, forming a silent question.

Does she seem tired to you?

With his signature nonchalance often used in public assemblies where they couldn’t talk openly, Moon masked his movements with typical gestures, tipping his head back to drink from his glass as Jenn took another sip from hers. Turning slightly as he finished, to give himself a better look, Moon opened one of his subsystem files and ran the program for companion assessment.

//HOST ACCESS ACCEPTED/

/OPENING: TM_moon10300.sys%CompAs_

>Specify: Jenn_%

>>Appending data_

>Assessing…

Just as Jenn seemed to catch he was staring, Sun asked, “Are you not going to eat?” which drew her attention away.

“I ate already,” she assured. “Benefit of being the cook, I can snack as I go. Gotta taste the food and all that.”

“As long as you aren’t sacrificing your pantry for us.”

“Nah, I needed to use those tayn roots before they went bad anyway.”

“Oh, is that what this is?” Sun pointed to the half-mashed, crispy bits of starch mixed with the eggs.

Moon would never not be grateful for Sun’s ability to engage in smalltalk at the drop of a hat. The assessment completed and sent a summary to his HUD, prompting him to turn away back to his plate while reading it over quickly. It didn’t bring up anything alarming, but he knew his scope of data was limited with how far apart they were; to be fully accurate, he’d need to be right in front of her or in physical contact to read her blood pressure and magnetic array.

He was absolutely not going to do that.

Despite this, there was something to Sun’s observation beyond that signs of potential dehydration and fatigue he did pick up on. Faint as they were, Jenn’s eyes had dark rings forming underneath them as if she hadn’t slept well; she also had indicators of synthetic mesh he hadn’t noticed before, most specifically along her neck and jaw on her right side. That, at least, was easy to figure out the cause of, given she was missing an entire arm on that side; he chalked it up to medical reconstructive surgery for the time being. Then there was her odd behavior.

She was being friendly. Cautious, but friendly.

Risking a glance, Moon froze as the piercing blue eyes he’d been avoiding pinned him to his seat for a moment, the color hard and cold as if he’d been caught. Had he?? Was he too slow?? Too clumsy?? Or was he overthinking it?

Just as quickly as the unsettling glare came, it went, her face relaxing and growing soft with fatigue. Moon could swear the rings under her eyes grew faintly darker in that moment. Unable to help himself, he inquired, “Did you sleep?”

She sipped her drink, venturing a full swallow now that it had cooled somewhat to a tolerable level. “I caught a few.”

Doubtful , he felt, opting to finish his meal before she could come down on his head about wasting food.

Sun had already completed his portion and stood up, taking the plate with him–only to stop dead, eyes widening. “What happened to your leg???”

Moon turned fully in his seat to look at Jenn, who was peering down at her leg where Sun’s sight was pointed. A giant red streak stood out against her pale skin so much he felt stupid for not noticing sooner–he was too busy looking at her face for tells or hostility!

“Oh, forgot about that.” With no sense of urgency, she set her mug down and turned to her kitchen sink to find a damp cloth, wiping away at the mark intently.

“Are you alright??” Sun was quick to circle the table, his rays turning and bouncing with concern as they returned to place around his head. He placed the dishes in the sink quickly and knelt to offer aid–Moon couldn’t bring himself to stop his brother, knowing the golden bot was still laden with guilt and likely to overcompensate in other ways for his mistake.

Thankfully, there wasn’t much to compensate for as the red mark simply wiped away with no trace of injury to show for it. “I dropped a marker on myself,” Jenn explained simply, tossing the rag into the sink. “Sorry for that, probably looked suspiciously bloody, didn’t it?”

“A bit,” Sun admitted, relaxing.

To himself as he finished his water, Moon remarked, It’s not the mark that makes you suspicious, before getting up and putting his own dishes away to wash. “Thank you for the meal,” he said flatly, stepping back to allow Sun to get up from the floor.

“No problem.” Jenn finished her drink and gave a hearty sigh. “I’ve got chores to do, feel free to roam or lay around. If you’re lucky and the relay tower is back up, you might find something on the television.”

TV held no interest to either of them, nor did laying around doing nothing.

Brushing past them both, Moon made sure to move away just enough that she wouldn’t touch him by accident, but for a half-second he thought she’d sent another cold glare to him in passing. Is she challenging me? he wondered cautiously, his back tensing against the idea. Or seeing if I’m buying her friendly act?

Sun, bless his circuits, couldn’t keep himself from doing nothing or standing aside while his host worked hard. Reaching out, he tapped her shoulder before she could leave the kitchen, rays pulling in bashfully. “Um, can… can I help?”

Any hint of glare was nowhere on Jenn’s face as she studied the golden robot curiously, a brow arching over her aqua eye as she considered his offer. “Yeah, sure I guess? It’s not much to do but if you want.” She shrugged, gesturing to the door down the hallway. “I’ll meet you on the deck once I get changed, alright?”

Against his better judgment, Moon muttered, “So you do have more than just your pajamas to wear? I’m shocked.”

Sun chided him, shocked, “Moon!”

This time, Jenn’s disdain was openly displayed, her mouth turned in a small scowl that could only read as ‘unamused’.

Unwilling to offer a reaction to her, he lifted one shoulder dismissively. “What? All I’m saying is she’s been wearing that outfit since we woke up, I was starting to think it’s all she had.”

“That is so rude!” Sun gave his brother a shake to emphasize his words but Jenn was also unwilling to give Moon the satisfaction of a reaction and simply walked away, leaving them in the entryway. “Why are you–”

Moon covered Sun’s mouth with his hand, yellow eyes flashing intently, voice low and quiet. “I’m not setting an expectation of tagging along or being invited. You can go with her, try to keep me apprised of her location. I want to look around a bit.”

Sun’s brow knit with concern. He pulled Moon’s hand from his face, also dropping his voice to a hushed tone. “Why?”

“Didn’t you notice her change in attitude today?”

Sun’s eyes darted to the side a moment as he thought. “A… a bit? Is that bad?”

“It’s too much of a change if you ask me. I want to make sure she isn’t planning something.”

Disappointment touched Sun’s face for a moment. “Moon, I really think you’re overthinking this. I don’t think she’s a bad person.”

“I didn’t say she was bad, I said she’s suspicious.”

That determined glint was back. Sun knew he couldn’t argue it without causing another blow up and he had no energy for that right now. “Fine,” he sighed, looking to the floor. “Just… don’t break the rules, please.”

“I won’t be if I’m not caught.” With an assuring pat to his brother’s shoulder, Moon turned to take the back door of the kitchen, intending to look around while their host was distracted. Her behavior was strange, particularly after their ordeal yesterday. Looking into his personal system so directly was far too enticing to her. That binder she wanted in the lounge was far too mysterious.

She knew something.

He was going to find out what.

~

The jungle was actually remarkably peaceful now that he wasn’t sprinting for his life through it, Sun thought pleasantly while waiting for his human host to meet him. Or perhaps it was more of a forest? What even was the difference? Small birds dipped from branch to branch, playing some sort of avian game that he tracked with his eyes, following the pop of color they made against the green-blue and yellow-green leaves of the canopy. There were far too many things he realized he didn’t know or understand about the outside world now that he was in it, but he wasn’t afraid of it now. This was a chance to learn and that fact was rather exciting!

It didn’t do enough to swallow the guilt he felt, however.

Elbows folded over the railing, Sun’s thoughts continually strayed back to the day before any moment he wasn’t forcibly observing something. What could he do? He’d apologized many times and Moon didn’t seem mad, but he also wasn't acting normal either. ‘Happy’ was not the word to describe his brother at any point, but the snappy, sarcastic attitude…

Well, it’s not new , Sun reminded himself, knowing full well Moon had… opinions about their old living situation. Colorful ones. But they were always shared in private, away from the eyes and ears of that woman.

Vissara.

Sun shuddered, shaking his head to remove the name from active thought. She’s not here. Rubbing his cheek, Sun looked to the grass to find something to focus on that wasn’t his shadowy thoughts. Moon was never openly hostile, he reiterated, finding nothing of interest to amuse himself with in the yard. Stone faced? Sometimes. Sarcastic? Absolutely. His snarky quips could usually bring a smile to Sun’s face, as they were often the thoughts they shared about their lives that he dared not vocalize, but never, ever had Moon been so openly flippant and callous with someone.

Stress, maybe? the golden bot pondered. A shadow passed overhead, prompting him to look up where Aquila was circling. The birds stopped their little game immediately, the trees growing still with anticipation. Speaking of stress…

Aquila rounded the clearing once before banking up and disappearing behind the house. A moment later, the birds began to flit about again as if they hadn’t been bothered.

Nature was strange.

Stress, Sun knew, could cause all kinds of bizarre changes in things. Plants could die suddenly, animals and people could become sickly or aggressive when they normally weren't; Moon was not an animal, but robots were susceptible to system collapse and parts failure if they were overworked or given too many tasks. Perhaps the two weren’t unrelated? Given their situation, he felt he would be more concerned if Moon wasn’t stressed about everything, especially…

Burying his face in his hands, Sun felt his rays spin and pull into their port slightly as shame blanketed him.

~

“Actually… that’s my fault.”

Eyes lingered on his face, a faint mix of concern and confusion; he wanted to melt away or dissolve into ash. Sun’s rays whirled and pulled in, betraying his shame-–not that he could hide it well anymore. Jenn’s visor cleared, allowing a better look at her face through the screen; she seemed confused by his claim, but only for a moment.

It was Moon was the most baffled and, faintly, hurt by the statement. Sun could see it in the flicker of his yellow irises.

With a quick motion, Jenn cleared off and removed her visor, setting it to the side; there was something in the set of her jaw and the glimmer of her eyes but Sun couldn’t identify it beyond a vague sense of disappointment–-or perhaps that was just him. “What do you mean?” she asked slowly, studying him for a reaction.

Fingers twisted up and over each other, Sun couldn’t take the staring and squeezed his own eyes shut, blurting out, “I messed up with the chip! It’s my fault!”

“I–” Jenn paused. He folded lower, wanting to crumple up and vanish tenfold. “I understand that, but I need to know why.”

“Sun?” Moon’s voice spoke up before the golden bot could form an answer, his tone soft but extremely confused. Of course, he probably didn’t remember the event; Sun pressed a hand to his mouth for a moment, trying to keep from reaching for his exposed head.

The truth, he told himself. Just tell the truth. Hands shaking, he inhaled and lifted his face, irises dulling to a gray hue of themselves. “It was an accident. I… we…” Explaining meant confessing. Moon didn’t want to share their motives with the human with blue eyes but there was no way to really get around it. They both deserved answers. “When… we were running and running and it got dark…” Memory flashes passed through his active mind. “You pulled me off the path into the bushes. I kept trying to talk to you but you told me we had to be quiet… You were the one who mentioned the tracking chips.”

Moon straightened slightly, brow creasing just a fraction.

“You were the one who warned me about the memory failure, that it was a risk…”

Jenn grunted, touching her chin. “That tracks, they were implanted right next to the CeMCA–” Both of them looked at her curiously. “The Central Memory Conversion Augment, it’s where experience data from your senses is collected, sorted and compressed into memory files. Only memory-related things are supposed to attach to it but I assume whoever put those chips in you did that on purpose to keep people from trying to tamper with you. A deterrent.”

Moon glanced around a bit as he thought over that statement until Jenn touched his head, telling him to hold still as she unplugged him. Cross, he tried to sit still, urging Sun to continue.

Squeezing his hands into fists and releasing the tension, Sun tried to settle to finish explaining. “You tried to… pull mine.” The fiber cable came loose just as he spoke, Moon jumping from the disconnect and startling Sun for a second, cutting off any comment or question the darker robot might have had. “I… I panicked, so you told me to do you first. I… think you were trying to show me it wouldn’t be so bad. But I was shaking so much… I…” His fingers laced back together tightly. “I tried and there was a spark–-something zapped me and you collapsed. It was only for a second but… that must have been when it happened. Then the footsteps caught up and I had to pull you up. You were disoriented and I didn’t know where we were going. The ridge…”

He couldn’t.

No more.

Sun fell silent and covered his face, feeling so very small.

Head sealed up safely once more, Moon pivoted and reached for his brother, barely acknowledging Jenn’s motions as she rolled her cables up and cleared the equipment away. Pulling gently, Sun sank into Moon’s grasp; though they couldn’t shed tears, they were capable of sobbing. A sick imitation of distress, Moon felt, that some twisted programmer thought would be good to include in their emotional replication processor. Azil knows they didn’t figure it out through imitation.

It did its job though, scraping his focus from everything that wasn’t Sun for a moment. Their Lock–-the Tidal Lock paired Task Managers could be given to help maintain their emotional health–-took precedence when distress occurred, muting or pausing any non-critical function to push their faculties into correcting the mental disharmony. Each pair was slightly different; their methods of addressing, correcting and soothing each other would be unique to them and their link based on their personalities and directives; even with that knowledge, Moon often felt incapable or ineffective in doing his part to keep Sun’s mind clear and sharp. All he knew to do was hold him close and hum.

Hum a nonsense tune measured in breaths that rarely failed to calm them by resetting their inner rhythm. He could hardly consider it his own ability to care for Sun’s wellbeing, as he couldn’t be sure there wasn’t some unknown program buried deep in their computer parts that forcibly reset them, regardless of what state they were in. Part of him hoped it was genuine effort, but another part wished, faintly, he didn’t have that responsibility.

Moon hated that he even felt that to begin with.

“It’s not your fault,” the dark robot murmured after a moment when his brother’s shaking had subsided.

“But–” Sun croaked back, only to be cut off by Jenn.

“Well, you’re half right.”

Moon’s eyes flashed dangerously to the human who was sitting back on her hands, seeming unfazed by the emotional distress being experienced in front of her. Sun’s breath shook once, then he stilled.

“What? Lying isn’t going to do him any good.”

“Shut up,” Moon bit out, the inner mechanisms of his legs coiling with the urge to fight.

Jenn didn’t back down though, meeting his eye with her own firm gaze. “Welcome to the real world. Shifting blame doesn’t remove consequences; it’s better to address it directly. Get over it, don’t bury it.”

Furious, Moon had to purposefully focus on his breathing cycle to avoid losing his temper entirely. Sun sat up, listening intently to the human but also subtly placing himself just the slightest bit in between them–-just in case.

“That’s quite the glare you have.” Jenn folded her legs, shifting to sit forward. “You can be mad, but it’s the truth. I’ve had to learn that the hard way, so maybe listen to the feral human living in the woods if you want to cut the crud and learn.”

Placing a hand on Moon’s knee to try and still him from his desire to tackle the human, Sun spoke carefully, measuring his words, “You… are absolutely right.” He could feel Moon reel back a bit, no need to turn and look to know he was shocked. “I did cause this… and I want to do anything I can to fix it.”

Jenn studied him–-both of them–-for a long moment. Sun could feel her eyes on him even as he stared at the grass, unable to focus; the weight of his guilt was somewhat alleviated now that he’d confessed his mistake–-oddly, the insistence of responsibility didn’t make him feel worse. How could he feel worse than he did already?

Rather, he felt motivated.

“Even if it means hiking cross-country through the wilds for days and days?”

That got him to lift his head, the suggestion too bizarre to ignore. Without hesitation, he agreed. “Absolutely.”

“Sun,” Moon chided, his voice a low warning.

Against his nature, Sun forced himself to ignore Moon, unwilling to give energy to any argument his brother might cook up to drop the idea or that would cause him to fold like a lawn chair under the slightest pressure.

Jenn stared a moment longer, expression some mix of unreadable blankness and a complex myriad of thoughts neither brother could begin to parse out. “Alright then.”

They sat, blankly ogling.

She seemed to realize they didn’t understand her, her mouth pressing into an annoyed line. “I need a few days to figure things out but if you’re really willing to risk getting lost, hurt or worse to fix this issue, then I’ll help you.”

Moon’s brows raised with concern as he barked a, “What?” having gotten caught on the ‘or worse’ part of her offer.

Sun was more hopeful than anything, eyes regaining some saturation. “You will?”

“Of course.” Gesturing with her hand, Jenn indicated Sun to come closer; he realized he still had a cable in his head that didn’t need to be there anymore.

“Hold on,” Moon said, struggling to wrap his mind around the claim of danger. “Why?”

Bluntly, as if already tired of repeating herself, Jenn replied, “It’s the right thing to do.”

~

Sighing deeply, Sun lifted his head. While he didn’t feel quite as bad after telling them what happened, he still felt horribly guilty. Taking responsibility felt… good, though. Moon might be bearing the brunt of his mistake, as usual, but this time Sun would correct it. No more vicarious punishments.

They weren’t on the estate anymore.

A soft laugh escaped Sun’s mouth as realization dawned on him. This wasn’t the estate. There were no rules here–-other than Jenn’s of course–-no expectations and ever-changing requests.

No more Vissara Oinn.

“What's so funny?”

Sun turned quickly at the voice that was growing in familiarity, looking up to the patio and stilling. Jenn was at the top, wearing a curious assortment of earthy clothing with simple patterns that he didn’t recognize. She sported a brown tank top that didn’t seem much different from her previous one, but her regular, human arm had a black sleeve pulled over it that wrapped around the fingers and tied across the chest-–a protective glove perhaps? Mossy green leggings with gold patterns covered her legs and matched the green, asymmetrical panel skirt that hung nearly to the ground in the front, a red and gold pattern of some sort twisting up the length and wrapping around her middle like a scarf. Completing the odd look were plain, leathery shoes-–were they shoes? They seemed soft, lined with fur and tied at the ankle with cord of some sort. She wasn’t barefoot at least.

Odd as it was compared to how he and others around him would dress, Sun found the outfit charming. Rustic and comfy. It was with a mild start that he noticed how the skirt fluttered as she descended the staircase, accentuating the sway of her hips with each step as she shifted in and out from behind the decorative panel. Surely that was some effect of the fabric, right? It wasn’t until she was level with him, moving something from her head to her hip that he even noticed she’d been hefting a large woven basket the entire time.

“You okay?”

If his face could burn, he’d be on fire, surely. “Your clothes are very cute!” Sun wanted to scream-–mostly at himself.

She gave a light laugh, seeming confused as she looked at herself. “It’s just gathering clothes, not really a gala gown.”

“They suit you!”

Her gaze was friendly, a faint smile on her lips that read to him that she was accepting of and baffled by his compliment. “Is that why you’re blushing or are your chromas acting up?”

Sun didn’t want to scream.

He wanted to jump off the patio and knock himself out.

“I am?” His voice was barely a squeak.

Tapping the side of her nose, Jenn mused, “The yellow parts of your face turned orange. Are they not supposed to?”

“Oh–” How would he explain that without lying?

Blessedly, Jenn seemed to lose interest in his emotive display, huffing in an amused way as she put the basket on her head and descended the final set of stairs. “C’mon.”

Thank you thank you thank you, he rambled to himself, trotting behind her quickly. “May I ask about the basket?”

“How else do we gather food?”

Gather food? Sun shook his head a bit and tried again. “Well, I assume as much–-but why are you carrying it like that?”

Jenn had her gloved hand laced into a patchwork panel on the side of the basket’s base to keep it in place, the woven material creaking lightly with each step she took, while her other hand pulled up the front of her skirt to keep it from snagging on tangles and brambles. “Cuz it’s a big basket…?”

I am not good at this , Sun fretted, being careful to follow her footsteps as precisely as he could–-Azil knows there could be tripping hazards in the grass if he wasn’t careful. “Why not use a smaller basket?”

“You’ll see.”

She was not good at giving answers either. Resigning himself to learning by observation, Sun ducked to avoid a branch that hung a bit too low at the edge of the yard; passing this point brought him fully into the jungle, the available room to move suddenly becoming extremely limited. It seemed that beyond the clearing Jenn claimed as her yard space, the ground was still overgrown and tangled up in roots and weeds, unkempt and wild. The gold robot prayed he wasn’t making a mistake by following her into the wild unknown.

Chapter Text

The breadth of knowledge that Sun found himself lacking was far more vast and profound than he ever imagined. In merely a shake of the day–-or roughly 100 minutes to anyone not on Adir Standard Time–-he’d been introduced to no less than twenty different variations of wild grass, four edible roots, and six ‘trust me, don’t touch it’ varieties of leaf and flower that he’d never heard of, let alone seen before. Jenn was more than willing to explain each of them with enough prodding, he found, though he felt just a bit guilty about regularly pinging Moon with a distance reading to enable his brother’s paranoid snooping. Despite this, he found himself to be enjoying the outing.

It was fun !

Just as well, it was a chance to try and understand the odd human just a bit more without Moon breathing down his neck with words of caution. I love you dearly, my brother, but there are days, he thought to himself with a touch of shame for being harsh, even if it was just to himself. Though I’m not helping I suppose…

Sun sighed.

“You alright?” Jenn lifted her head from the shrub she was picking through, wiping her brow with the back of the glove on her organic arm.

He hadn’t realized he’d made a sound. “Oh! Yes!” Quickly, he picked his way over the tangle of roots and dirt, amused at how it felt like steps to a bizarre dance at times with how he had to maneuver to avoid stepping on something unsavory.

“Not bored?”

“Never!” Crouching, gangly legs splayed to avoid hitting anything, he peered at the mass of puffy leaves she tended to while doing a binocular comparison–-one eye was focused on the shape and color of the vegetation, the other analyzing his store of information for direct comparison until it found a match. Often this was a feature used for color-correcting or aligning cut patterns of paper and fabric but it worked fantastically for identifying plants and berries–-delightful! This one didn’t have a match yet; he smiled. “What’s this one?”

Carefully, Jenn pulled a tangle of leaves from the bush, the ‘branch’ unfurling into a long vine-like wisp heavy with fat, round leaves that had a grayish tint on them. She coiled the base of the vine around her mechanical fingers and ran it through her hand, the bulbs popping free without a hint of resistance to fall into the basket beneath her. The air smelled of clean linen and spring water suddenly. “Soap leaves,” she answered once the harvest was stashed, a woven mat placed over the top of them within the basket to keep them separate from other collectibles. “They’re super convenient and grow just about everywhere; when they're ready to use, they get that silvery color on their skin. You can peel them, juice ‘em, crush them in your hand–-they lather up with water and make you smell super clean. Great natural deodorant.”

“Deodorant?”

She had a wry grin on her ace. “You might not sweat or smell but we humans tend to have funny odors after a long day of work.”

“Oh? I’ve never noticed.” Most of high society did their best to be presentable at all times, though he vaguely wondered if too much perfume counted as body odor. Nevermind the fact he could simply disengage one of his senses whenever it became overwhelming.

“Lucky.” Standing up, Jenn gathered the materials she’d removed from the basket and gently placed them back inside: woven mats that acted as separators, a small kit of pruning tools, a smaller pack of ointment and bandages, plus a handful of other random things had been stored inside the large carrying basket until needed. Whenever Jenn wanted to harvest something, she set the basket down, pulled the tools out, took a bit of what she needed, then put the tools back, always careful to not throw or drop anything. Sometimes, Sun thought, he would hear her humming but never loud enough for him to point it out.

Rising gracefully, Sun placed his hands under the basket as she lifted it up, reflexively trying to assist though she didn’t need it. After four attempts where he couldn’t stop himself, she’d given up trying to correct him and simply allowed it, the basket creaking under its growing weight as she used her head and neck to support it through the underbrush. It seemed dangerous to do too often, but the gold robot wasn’t nearly brave enough to tell her that for fear of running out her patience with him. How she hadn’t yet was a gift he wasn’t intending to look in the mouth. “So, um…” Jenn turned her head slightly to indicate she heard him, her step never breaking as they rounded a stand of trees. “All of this… foraging? Do you do this every day?”

She rose up a few inches while stepping onto a particularly large root, then dropped back down; Sun was able to stride over it fairly easily with his long legs, clearing it like a balance beam. “Well, sort of. Harvesting every day is bad for the plants, but I don’t clear them off when I need them cuz that’s wasteful. I just keep track of what I need and know where to find it and collect only that much. This area is consistently temperate so the plants stay in bloom year-round as long as the aurora cooperates.”

“That must be extremely convenient!”

“It is.” The trees ended abruptly, breaking onto a stretch of sand and grass along a small lake. Sun stopped, awestruck at the vision of the aurora reflecting in the water, barely realizing Jenn was still walking until she started talking again. “It’s why I stayed here to build my base.”

Blinking hard to snap out of his gawking, Sun trotted up to shrink the distance between them. “You–-you built this place? Alone?”

She shrugged, gazing at the water for a moment in thought. “Salvaged, if you want to get technical. It was gutted and falling apart when I found it but the basic house structure was already there. I patched it up in my spare time, moved in and stayed put.”

“That’s… incredible!”

A humorous laugh escaped her. “I mean, sure? I guess? Dragged thing still leaks like a–-” Jenn paused for just a moment to avoid cursing unnecessarily, aware her tag-along didn't seem to care for it. “Like an old boat when it rains but it’s home.”

Jenn slowed to a stop, gaze on the treeline ahead of them, which allowed Sun to fully catch up without having to hurry, hoping to keep the discussion going. Moon would be pleased with any information he got, surely! “How long have-–”

“Sh.”

Sun froze completely at the chaste sound, feeling a bit of panic well up inside that made his rays retract slightly. Had he upset her? Was she going to chastise him? Or worse-–?

Slowly, Jenn placed the basket down at the foot of a tree and rolled the front of her skirt up, using the back panel as a belt to tie and tuck it out of the way. With eerie silence and a half crouch, she slipped into the underbrush along the tree line, the green and brown colors of her clothes blending her into the leaves and dirt just enough to make her hard to keep track of. The panic Sun felt shifted immediately from worry for upsetting her to raw survival. Something was in the forest with them.

Was he supposed to follow? She hadn’t said-–was it a trap?? Would he be left to fend for himself??

A branch snapped somewhere.

It took everything in his system to withhold the shriek he wanted to let out, hands covering his mouth to block the sound from escaping.

~

Locked.

Moon scowled, sliding his hand up and down the door to look for any secret hinge or panel to press that would open it without the passcode. No such luck. Fingers drumming on the metal door for a moment, he huffed and rose, feeling along the seams of the frame.

Nothing.

A tip-tap got him to turn, only slightly surprised to find Rukbat staring at him curiously, wrong ear flopping at the tip as he titled his copper brown head as if to say ‘what’cha doin’?’ Putting his hand to his hips, Moon considered the fact that he could be getting spied on with the canine present, but couldn’t be mad about it. It was simply doing as it should by guarding its mistress’s secrets from nosey visitors.

“I don’t suppose you can let me in, can you?” he wondered, not expecting an answer. Why was he even talking to this thing?

Rukbat whined.

“Didn’t think so.” Backing up from the door, Moon turned on his heel and began to walk away, listening for footsteps. When none came by the time he got down to the yard, the navy snoop looked up to the part of the patio still visible from where he stood, seeing the canine’s head poking out from between the rails. After a moment, Rukbat slid back and turned, out of sight. Moving to try and see up more, Moon could just barely make out the tops of the doors the Sirius was next to, the ones he’d just come from.

One led to the kitchen, he knew that already after seeing it at breakfast, but the other one beside it was sealed tight with no other doors that he could find. Whatever it guarded was a part of the house he had yet to see, and with her warning about locked doors he had to assume it was a private area. A bedroom, or perhaps a study? Something that may have answers for him.

Rukbat’s nails tapped the patio as it wandered out of sight, then scratched on something. A rush of air–-Moon squinted, seeing the sliver of the locked door vanish for a moment. What?! Hurrying, he stomped up the steps, three at a time, sliding into the rail as he circled back to the set of doors, disbelieving.

They were shut.

With a quick check, he found it the same as a moment ago: no handle, no panel, still in need of a wireless access code. “Draggit-–” he hissed, hitting the rail with his hand. Did… I just get punked by a dog ? Drumming his fingers once more, Moon made an annoyed sound in his throat, both impressed and embarrassed.

He was not telling Sun about that.

Changing objectives to try and salvage his dignity, Moon made his way to the lounge, intending to comb through the papers and notes strewn about. She was so eager for that binder in here, maybe there’s something else? Jenn had gotten short with them after their sit-down in the grass, her eyes darting about as if looking for or avoiding something. In an unexpected burst of speed, she’d gotten ahead of them on the way inside, which prompted Moon to follow quickly to figure out what she was doing. They’d nearly collided as she ducked out of the lounge, a massive, black binder full of laminated paper breaking their contact with a whump .

That thing was dense.

She’d slid off to the side, telling them to relax without another peep on their situation, and escaped before he could stop her, locking herself in the white container–-

Moon stopped shifting through papers–-something about the practical uses of a wood fungus native to the boglands miles from here-–as he pondered over the white block of metal under the patio. The human had already brought equipment out of it once and managed to spend an entire resting time locked inside doing something or other that put her in a good mood. It couldn’t be a storage shed, could it?

Idiot.

Dropping the paper, Moon left quickly, hopping the railings with practiced grace to land as lightly as he could on the lawn. Unsurprisingly, the white block was sealed tight, just like the door, but he had time to burn. Starting at the front, Moon began to systematically search for cracks or wires across the outer wall, maybe an emergency key or passcode hint scribbled somewhere that went unnoticed. Humans often had odd habits like that so he hoped this human was just odd enough to be prone to the same silly idea.

He looked and looked–-right up until the panic set in suddenly, nearly knocking him prone with dizziness. Not his own panic however.

Sun’s.

~

Crack.

Sun took a quick step back, feeling his gears and wires screeching again-– run.

RUN!

Something creaked–-he turned to the motion above his head, hands trembling. Burning.

He could defend himself.

He could–-

In a lithe motion, Jenn swung herself from the creaking branch and landed on the balls of her feet, knees bent to disperse the impact and muffle the sound of her return. Before he could even process what was happening, Sun was silenced by her finger at her mouth, staving off his attempt to ask anything; baffled, he crept over when she waved, keeping low as she led him into the trees.

I’m dead, he frantically chanted, Moon was right, she’s crazy, I’m dead.

Her hand came out and he stilled, watching her movements with every scrap of focus he could muster beyond his confusion and panic. It was remarkable how quiet she could be when climbing, easing herself into the tree overhead, eyes on something beyond the wall of shrubbery that carpeted the forest floor. It got more bizarre when she looked down and pointed to her head, making some sort of gesture it took a moment for him to decipher.

My rays? Hide… hide my rays?

Uncertain, he shut off the process that controlled the haptic array, withdrawing the light spokes into the seam of his head. It was darker than he thought without them. He didn't like it.

Motioning again, Jenn indicated he should move to the space below the branch, just beyond the bushes. Nervously, he did so, sending one last location ping to his brother so he could have hope some part of him would be recovered. Being silent in the overgrowth was quite a task with his long frame, but Sun managed well enough not to get hushed again, crouching between the roots of the gnarled blue-wood tree Jenn was perched in. Maybe if he were quick enough he could jump-–

Finger to her lips once more, Jenn slowly pointed, splayed out on her belly across the arm of the great tree to minimize herself. Staring into her eyes for a moment and seeing no ill intent–-he hoped-–the golden bot turned his head so very carefully, bracing for something awful.

His exhaust cycle paused.

Through the leaves of the canopy, the aurora’s light took on far more colors than it usually had, all flickering as the trees shifted in unseen winds. Greens and blues and oranges taken from leaves and flowers danced through the air on the way to the ground, bugs humming curious tunes to each other that filled the forest with its own unique heartbeat. None of that mattered so much, though, compared to the massive creature standing between the trees; almost as tall at the head as he was when standing, with a furry pelt a shade of blue usually reserved for deep water, the creature grazed idly, unbothered by anything going on around it at that moment. Great, curling antlers of sapphire and diamond dust twisted over its head, catching the light from the falling leaves in such a way, Sun felt he would cry if he could. It turned slightly, chewing-–the dark eyes of the beast found him.

He froze.

The animal-–a great stag of sorts–-grunted, nose flaring. Only then did another head appear behind it, ears pivoting at the sound. Sun counted three of them as he waited to see if they would charge or flee, one without a curling crown of gems and another much smaller one, hiding between their legs. It was with awe and joy that he realized it was a family.

Suddenly, all three lifted their heads, ears rotating to one direction collectively as they stood stock still. The male grunted again, shaking his great neck; light seeped up through the curls and points of its crown, a blinding flash making Sun look away for a moment. When it cleared, the deer had fled, the trees thumping and shaking under their hooves as they disappeared into the depths of the wood. Such an interesting survival tactic!

“SUN!”

Faintly, the familiar voice of his brother caught his ear, somewhere back where he’d just come from. Getting up from his vantage point, the gangly bot moved back through the shrubbery to the lakeside, his radials fluttering to their rightful place–-not two seconds later, Moon’s footfalls thundered to him as he broke cover, bare feet sliding to a stop on the lush grass and sand. “Sun!” he repeated with some relief, his pulse points flashing and fading from his distress. Before his brother could answer, Moon had hold of his shoulders, looking him over. “Are you alright? What happened??”

Sun wobbled as he was turned by Moon’s frantic examination of his person. Catching himself before he could fall, Sun gently clasped the dark robot’s hands between his to try to assure the worrywart he was fine–-but hesitated, grin faltering slightly on his face as the desire to tell Moon what happened caught in his voice box. In a fraction of a second, Sun changed his answer. “I-I’m fine! I…”

A thump in the grass nearby revealed Jenn emerging from the forest, dusting herself off and fixing her skirt to hang like it should, a piece of underbrush being plucked off absently. The pair acknowledged her appearance with a glance, forcing Sun to interject before she said anything.

“There you are!”

Jenn looked up from her dusting, brow creased for a moment, seeing the tight expression on the golden bot and the annoyed one of the blue jerk.

Placing his hand on Moon’s shoulder, Sun went on, “I’m sorry, Moon, I got separated and lost sight of Jenn. I… didn’t mean to worry you.”

OH! Jenn realized with a start, finishing her realignment of her clothes after the tree messed them up to buy time to cover her reaction. “I didn’t think it would be so easy to lose you in the woods, bright eyes. A seven-foot-tall Sunrise with a halo on his head should be pretty easy to keep track of.”

“I’m sorry,” Sun reiterated, folding his hands together apologetically. “I got distracted and then you were gone and this forest is a lot bigger than…” Glancing to the side, Sun saw the wary glint in Moon’s yellow eyes. “Than the yard… um, there’s a… distinct lack of fences out here!” Moon sighed at his prattling.

“There’s a lack of a lot of things out here,” the human agreed, playing off the situation with the plain casualness they’d come to expect from her at this point. She hefted the basket up to its position on her head with a slight grunt.

Unwilling to expend more energy into dissecting the conversation, Moon closed his eyes for a moment and forced himself to let it go. “I think,” he started, half through his teeth, “that’s enough for today, don’t you think?”

“Oh?” Sun chirped, not wanting that to be the case.

“I mean, I’m not done yet but if you want to go back you can.” Walking past them both, Jenn idly pointed through the trees toward the house, heading to a completely different area of the forest without a glance back.

“Wait!” Sun blurted, taking a step after her before Moon grabbed hold of his wrist, forcing him to stop. Silently, the two prodded each other through their Lock, each trying to convince the other to go the way they wanted; Moon’s eyes flicked toward the house, wanting to discuss things privately, but Sun turned his cheek to indicate following Jenn, as he wanted to keep learning and familiarize himself with the land around the house. It was a stalemate between them for some seconds until Jenn coughed to get their attention.

She’d paused at the treeline and waited, as asked, but she seemed put off by their refusal to follow, her gaze dull, mouth turned in a frown. “Well?”

Taking the moment to change his grip on Sun, Moon tugged, bringing his brother back a step. “I think that’s enough excitement for right now,” he claimed firmly. “Let’s go back, Sun.”

“He’s fine,” she quipped dismissively. “It’s not like he got hurt or anything.”

“That’s not the point.” Moon took his own step toward the house, pulling Sun off balance slightly as he did so the golden robot would stumble after him. “It’s been long enough for our first day.”

“Give him some credit.” Jenn turned her body to face them fully, her stance changing subtly as she moved from one foot to the other. Moon felt his inner coils tense in anticipation, something in her movements forcing an alert in the backmost part of his mind, as if preparing for a fight. “He’s picking up on foraging incredibly fast and wants to keep going. Since he’s not hurt and his battery is full, I think he can choose to stay out if he really wants to.”

“And Sun has a bad habit of being an overachiever who doesn’t know when to quit,” Moon pressed, looking at his brother whose gaze dropped to the ground, knowing it was true. “It’s the first day,” he added, a bit gentler as he saw his brother wilt slightly. “There’ll be time to learn more later.”

As much as he wanted to fight, to speak up for himself, the weight of his lie and the worry in Moon’s voice stripped Sun of the energy to do so in moments, leaving only the ability to placate them both with an answer. “You might be right, Moon,” he agreed quietly, stepping closer to his brother of his own volition.

“Alright then.” Shrugging, Jenn turned and disappeared into the trees without further argument, leaving them to find their way to the house alone.

Sun allowed himself to be tugged back to the familiarity of the yard, unable to bring himself to even look at Moon’s back. There was a wrongness in the air between them, a wall that shouldn’t be there-–he’d put it there by lying, he felt. Lying to spare Moon’s feelings-–to stop him from having more reason to unfairly hate the human that was keeping them safe-–or perhaps lying just to make himself feel better. More capable. In fractions of a second, Sun had chosen to lie about his willingness to follow the strange human into the forest because he thought it would cause Moon more stress and provoke a fight.

How tired he was of fighting already.

Moon was already so strung out and he was being foolish, careless with his safety and choices which were making it even harder on them both. With regret, Sun recalled how easily he’d cracked under the pressure just recently and how Moon stopped everything to ensure he was alright. The fatigue that set in had been all-consuming and heavy, dragging him into sleep without even an attempt to fight it. If that had been his feelings, Sun could scarcely imagine what the stress was doing to his beloved brother under the surface, beyond where their Lock could reach. Feelings that made Moon tense and angry and mistrustful, hardly what he knew his brother to be capable of-–or had been at least.

Before, Moon was a calming presence, laid back and hard to bother with most things. Sun recalled how much he appreciated the gentle presence of Moon after an event or an ordeal, always there, never stressing the details if Sun wouldn’t share them. A snappy joke and steady hand at his back could help him relax from anything that happened within the walls of the estate, but somewhere along the way, Sun found changes. Worried looks, concerned squeezes, fewer musings in the halls where ears couldn’t hear them-–at some point, the stress had begun to eat away at Moon long before now. It was just far worse recently. More obvious.

Sun knew it was his fault.

I should be doing better, he told himself as they finally reached the grassy swath of the yard, Moon’s grip on him loosening. I will do better. Before he could slip away too far, Sun quickly stepped forward, grabbing his brother in a tight hug that caught the navy-and-night hued robot off guard. “I’m sorry,” the golden half of the pair croaked, radials fluttering. “I didn’t… mean to worry you.”

After a second, Moon melted, his anger washing away at the worry and regret in his brother’s voice. Gently, he wrapped his arms around the lanky bot and held tight, clearing his mind before he could reply. “I know you didn’t.” Pulling back, Moon held his brother’s shoulders carefully, meeting his teal irises with concern and authority. “This is not a place to play, Sun. I know you’re excited to get out and I appreciate you keeping her occupied so I can look around but you need to remember this isn’t the backyard and not a vacation. We don’t know what’s out there and I don’t want you getting overwhelmed in your excitement when I’m not there to help you.”

The reflex to argue he’d be fine came and went as Sun held it in, only nodding as Moon was right to an extent. There was so much to do and learn and see, and he’d been so understimulated for so long the chance of his system going into a critical shutdown wasn’t impossible. Just another thing Sun hadn’t considered that was worrying his brother needlessly.

Carefully, Moon pulled Sun’s head down, their foreheads touching softly as they both calmed themselves, trying to strengthen their Lock against the wear and tear of their mutual stress. Moon hoped Sun would understand that this situation needed to be taken seriously and handled with care; Sun promised to them both he would be more careful, though more to himself than Moon. If he tried hard enough, he could manage his stress and his behaviors so Moon would have one less thing to worry about. It was the least he could do, Sun felt, having already caused enough problems simply by being himself and having no self control.

“You’re alright?” Moon’s voice was quiet.

“I am,” Sun replied just as quietly. “Did… you find anything?”

Sighing, Moon pulled back and turned, seeming annoyed. “No. The door locks are wireless and I don’t know the code so I couldn’t get in anywhere.”

“Oh…” Sun rubbed his neck. “Well… there’s time, I suppose? Maybe Jenn will… maybe I can ask to go out again tomorrow?”

Moon flopped into the grass, sitting back in a way that faintly reminded Sun of the old, relaxed Moon he remembered. “Think she will?”

“Maybe?” Following suit, Sun folded his legs and dropped lightly, leaning on one arm. “It took a bit but after I asked enough questions, Jenn seemed to open up and was happy to explain. Maybe if I ask for more, she’ll go out to tell me?”

Brow raised, Moon wondered, “She didn’t get annoyed?”

Sun shrugged. “If she did, she kept it to herself. At first I thought I was just bad at asking questions–-”

“Doubtful,” Moon cut in jokingly, earning a faint smile from Sun.

“--but then it felt more like…” His hand waved a bit as he searched for the words to use. “Like she was being short on purpose. I almost gave up on it entirely until she slipped up talking about sweetleaf.”

“Isn’t that what sugar is made of?”

Nodding, Sun skimmed the file he’d made on the plant quickly. “Apparently it grows all over the place if the orbura tree is around.”

“The what?”

Reaching up, Sun began to gesture, excitement growing. “Those big blueish trees with the leaves that have fuzzy, gray undersides?” Moon nodded, knowing the ones Sun meant. They were common decorations around E’rta, visible on most corners from the windows of the estate. “So apparently that gray fuzz forms from extra sugars in the tree being stored for later use, but when the leaves fall the sugar doesn’t go anywhere. Sweetleaf grows where the sugary leaves collect to recycle the excess so it doesn’t go to waste; when they die, the tree reabsorbs the sugar from the soil and starts it over, like a recycling system.”

Moon stared, baffled. “You learned that while looking for food?”

Nodding more enthusiastically, Sun’s smile broke through genuinely. “I didn’t even know sweetleaf made sugar sweetener–-well, I did but not how or that it’s not even the thing making the sweet part itself! Jenn was collecting some and I asked what it was, and at first it was a short answer like before but after I asked how to turn it into sweetener–-oh! That container!” Pointing to the house, Moon jumped a bit as Sun grew more excited. “That’s all made by Jenn!”

“Huh,” Moon mused, resting his elbows on his knees while waiting for Sun to continue, glad the abrasive mood seemed to be passing.

“She told me how to process it in a double boiler and how it grows under the trees–-but then she kind of stopped.”

“Stopped?”

Now concerned as he recalled his day more clearly, Sun mumbled a bit. “It was like she realized she was talking too much and just... Quit. I feel like maybe she’s used to not sharing things with others.”

No surprise there. A tad bitterly, Moon huffed, rolling his eyes. Sun was still going on about something but he couldn’t help his thoughts straying to his own day and how comparatively lacking it was in results. Nevermind the fact he was still outwitted by a Sirius of all things. Pathetic, he told himself, barely noticing his brother mention something or other about the forest and the colors of the light through the trees. If he wanted to soothe his bruised ego, he’d need another chance to learn something worth sharing. For that, he’d need another chance to explore. Catching a lull in the conversation, Moon decided to interject, “If you’ve gotten this much out of just one day, then I’d say it’s worth trying again tomorrow. Or later, even.”

Sun paused, feeling a bit happy that Moon thought his info dump was worthwhile. “You think so?”

“We’ll need as much as we can get if we’re going to be on our own eventually.”

On our own.

The words were heavy and incomprehensibly sticky, attaching to everything Sun had shared thus far and managing to drag them out of the levity and excitement of learning something new down to the echoing, muted cavern of worry he’d been desperate to stay out of the entire time. There, it stayed, thick and cold. Despite knowing it somewhere deep inside, Sun couldn’t help the gear-wrenching anxiety the idea of being alone gave him, even if it was alone with Moon, which was simply normal and expected. However, no matter how used to being with Moon he was, Sun was also used to rarely being isolated indefinitely from outside contact. Hired hands were around every corner, gatherings were frequent enough to be part of the weekly schedule, visitors were few but frequent in between-–brief periods of them being alone were rare. Now, being expected to have it as the default brought dread into his system.

Likely to do with his programming which was made specifically to be around and entertain guests, encouraging him to seek human interaction as a priority, Sun pushed back on it, unwilling to sabotage himself or his brother with confusing feelings of duty and purpose that he wasn’t completely sure were his own. Fighting one’s own ingrained sense of self was horrid, itchy and wrong, full of dust almost that clouded one’s train of thought into senseless background screeching.

It didn’t matter what he thought he wanted. What they needed was to fix the mistake he made by being a coward and get as far away from that woman as possible. Maybe one day the wrongness would go away, or fade into little more than a mild grievance in the deepest corner of his mind.

Maybe one day he would know if it was his own desire to be in human company that begged him to stay in this odd house in the jungle, or if it was simply the result of programming forced onto him from before he ever came online the first time.

~

A lot of life was dark. Or it felt that way so far to the pair who stood patiently in the atrium, only their eyes alight in the dimness. ‘Keep your radials down’ the Sunrise had been told, as they would draw too much attention otherwise and ruin the surprise. The inner flurry of codes and systems inside him buzzed excitedly to finally be allowed to fulfill his purpose after the long journey from the facility; he so wanted to reach out through the dark and take hold of the other unit standing nearby, to remind himself he wasn’t alone in this chamber, but he couldn’t.

Wait, they were told.

The yellow glint in the dark was enough for now, he told himself. The other unit–-Moondrop, his Tidally Locked partner-–was there with him, just as quiet and, if his inner hum meant anything, just as eager. They were never far from each other, not in the short time they’d been active, so there was no reason to believe now was any different. It was even dark, like the first time they became aware of each other...

***

Coming online for the first time was a slow process; awareness of one’s limbs always came before any sense of space or outside assessment. File after file opened and ran in quick succession, demanding fingers and toes be moved, passive processes being read for anomalies, systems cycled through checkmark after checkmark to ensure they cooperated properly. Somewhere between this initial calibration and wanting to open his eyes, something else rippled through like an echo.

Sunrise.

That was him! A sunrise. A star.

Happiness flashed in his system at knowing himself. A tickle followed his elation, some quiet repetition of his joy that felt just a bit different. Feeling that extra nudge of emotion took his attention from his waking process for just a moment, drawing him deeper into himself. What was it? He wanted to know! Mustering the sensation as best he could, Sunrise urged his emotional code to run again; the echo answered faintly, bringing another wave of happiness that it mirrored. Each pass made Sunrise want to skip and laugh! To stay in this place with the little echo of his own happiness forever!

“Hello?”

Startled by the feeling of his own voice, Sunrise waited for the echo to respond. For a long moment, there was nothing. Fretting he’d scared it off, the robot tried to summon his joy again, to share it into the void and see if that brought an answer–-but he couldn’t. Afraid that his echo had vanished had left him empty, too much to be able to express that fleeting feeling of light and positivity.

Then it answered.

“It’s alright.”

The echo sounded nothing like him, to his surprise. While his own voice was high and light, with clear notes that felt like they could reach deep into the darkness and find the edges easily, this one was lower, soft but creaky as if someone had just woken up.

“I’m here.”

Sunrise peered around, unsure where ‘here’ was. “Where?”

“Next to you.”

There was no one, though. Pulling himself from the deep depths of himself, Sunrise reeled as his systems continued their processes around him–-breathing, cycling, flexing–-but he found what he felt he needed by clinging to his dexterity processes. Just enough to move his fingers. Turn his hand.

A cool sensation flickered through his system check, his hand coming into contact with something outside of himself that was not part of the flurry of self-diagnostics he was dealing with. The feeling grew as the thing also moved, his fingers being laced into something firm and, inexplicably, familiar.

“Is that you?” Sunrise wondered, not fully expecting an answer.

One still came though, more of an impression than true words. “Yes.”

Joy washed through him again. He wanted these checks to finish so he could wake up! “I’m Sunrise!” he cheered, squeezing the cool thing between his fingers.

The pressure matched his as his hand was squeezed back. While the feelings weren’t as intensely directed as his, Sunrise still knew this echo was as pleased as he felt. “I’m Moondrop,” they replied. “I’m your brother.”

**

Since then, they hadn’t been apart, even when the lights went off and they were told to conduct a sleep cycle. Moondrop was there, only an arm’s length away.

But this time, they’d been told not to cling to each other, to stand presentably and behave.

Sunrise trusted in the familiar, yellow eyes of his brother that he was there, within reach in the dark, and he would still be there when the light returned and they finally got to meet their mistress. Finally, they could dance. Bring her joy. Sate this nagging urge to be with a human, at their side to make their life more colorful!

He was so excited he could hardly contain himself!

~

The tension had mostly gone during their chat and Sun wasn’t going to risk it coming back due to his own misplaced feelings, so he kept it to himself, shoving it as far back as he could into his mind. The outside air was pleasant at least, a balmy temperature without a lot of humidity to seep into the joints and make them squeak. Quietly, the pair of robots sat and tried to enjoy this feeling of wavering peace they were afforded amidst the tension that stalked their every movement like a scavenger waiting for one to fall so they could be consumed. Because of this quiet, they could hear the bugs and grass hum on the wind, the birds tweet and whistle in the trees–-

“Do you hear that?” Moon asked suddenly, glancing around slowly.

“The voice? Yeah, I do,” Sun replied, equally confused.

Just above the wind, they both swore there was a trill of music. Wordless, keening and distant, but there nonetheless, slowly getting clearer as it went. Getting… closer?

Moon was up in a blink, hands balled into fists as he strained to hear which direction it was coming from-–to no avail, the forest managing to mangle the source of the sound between the trees so it was impossible to know for sure where it was coming from. Hunched against the grass, Sun struggled to make out any words within the reverberation, leaving him unsure if it was an aria or a language he couldn’t decipher clearly. Whatever it was, it was beautiful but chilling to not know who or what was making it.

Though there was one possibility.

Suddenly, the sound stopped, leaving them more baffled than when it had started. A minute passed before the bushes rustled, Jenn and her basket coming into view from the far end of the yard. Moon was on her before she’d even gotten to the stairs, eyes flashing. “Did you hear that just now?”

“Hear what?” she replied to him, a bit perturbed by his question. Her basket was distended with weight now, creaking as she put it down with a grunt; at her waist, her skirt was tied up oddly, stretched from whatever she had wrapped up in the hem. Sun found that quite clever of her, using her skirt like an extra hand to carry something; perhaps that was why she called them gathering clothes?

“You can’t tell me you didn’t hear a voice singing in the woods just now.”

Jenn’s eyes widened with concern for a moment before returning to normal. “No, I didn't, and neither did you.”

Moon glared. “Are you saying that because it was you?”

She stared back, just as hard. “I’m saying that because out in the wilds, if you think you hear something singing or talking out in the woods and you can’t immediately see who or what it is, then no you didn’t.”

“Excuse me?”

“Believe me when I say you don’t want to know.”

Well, that’s terrifying, Sun said to himself, coming up to them both before Moon could press the matter. “Do you need help?”

Gathering her laden skirt front in her arms, Jenn nodded at him, seeming to relax. “If you’re careful, you can bring the basket to the kitchen.”

“Sure!” Without hesitation, Sun stooped, grabbing the bottom and hefting–he grunted, surprised at the registered weight. Carrying this on her head can’t be good for her back! Taking a step, Sun followed politely behind Jenn, walking slowly so he wouldn’t drop or jostle the woven burden in his arms. Behind him, Moon took to the steps, keeping back so they wouldn’t collide by accident.

Thankfully he was there. Sun slightly misstepped at the edge of the next stair, his heel buckling as his balance shifted wrongly. Quickly, Moon held up his hands and pushed on Sun’s back to keep him from taking a tumble.

“Thank you!” Sun squeaked, his system surging with panic from the near fall.

“Of course,” Moon replied back distractedly. Something was off. “Are you sure you’re alright? You’re never this clumsy.”

“I just missed the stair,” Sun assured, though he also wondered briefly if there wasn’t some issue he hadn’t noticed in his balancing system. Perhaps there really was a good reason for Jenn to keep them there for a few days after all.

“Yeah, and you don’t do that.” Keeping his wits sharp, Moon watched his brother finish the climb without further incident, prepared for another catch should it be needed. “We’re not made to trip and fall.”

“I know, it’s… probably because I’m not used to the stairs here.”

“Mm-hm.” Unwilling to risk it, Moon took a deep breath and swallowed his pride, finding Jenn already in her kitchen putting away round roots from the folds of her skirt front. She turned her head to them and indicated the table for the basket, about to relay instructions for what to do with the contents when Moon cut her off, voice firmer than intended for asking a question. “Is it possible that storm could mess up a balancing system?”

“Huh?” The human stared for a moment, processing his question. Annoyed at having to repeat himself, she ended up answering before he could. “Oh, yeah, absolutely. Why?”

Moon glanced at Sun who looked at the floor.

Making a throaty sound of thought, Jenn put the last starchy tuber away, wiped her hands on her skirt and put them on her hips. “Let me guess.”

Sun groaned. “I’m sure it’s nothing, Moon!”

To his surprise, both Jenn and Moon managed to simultaneously bark, “Doubt it,” at him in the same tone before glaring at each other confusedly. Had it been anything else, Sun would find it funny, but instead it only took away his ability to get someone on his side as they seemed to agree just long enough to double down on there being a problem.

“Geo-magnetic anomalies can cause all kinds of things to happen in computer systems,” Jenn went on once she broke eye contact with Moon. “It’s why Task Managers–-you guys-–are made with magnetically inert metal parts where possible. The ones that can’t be though, usually up here-–” She pointed to her head. “--are still completely at the mercy of the aurora. Why do you think anomaly bunkers are a thing? Bots and modified humans that are sensitive to the activity need them so their systems don’t get fried.” Sun flinched a bit. “Honestly, if you didn’t have something wrong with you after your little trip through the atmosphere I’d be more surprised.”

She wouldn’t be, knowing full well if they didn’t suffer side effects beyond physical damage it was because they weren’t built like normal robots, likely reinforced against the effects of the magnetic anomaly. But there was no way she’d admit that freely right now.

“Can it be fixed?” Moon asked, trying to hide his worry after the last issue hit a dead end due to technical limitations.

“Oh, absolutely.”

The confidence of her voice caught Moon off guard, the tension leaving him faster than anticipated.

“Thankfully, I already know it’s not a hardware issue since-–” She gestured up and down at them. “Ya know. Been there, fixed that. If I had to guess, he’s just not calibrated properly anymore.”

Sun squeaked confusedly, head tilting. “Eh?”

“Being whipped around at mach-stupid with no sense of up or down tends to mess up anyone’s sense of direction. It’s likely self-corrected by now to a functional degree after walking around, but given you both have advanced gyros made for fancy dancy stuff–-” Moon scowled, “--it’s likely just out of tune. Best way to fix it is to just practice.”

“Oh!” That was a relief, Sun’s shoulders heaving with a sigh. “Not a problem then!”

Thinking for a moment, Moon inquired, “So why am I fine?”

Jenn shrugged after thinking. “Lucky I guess?”

“I’m never lucky.”

“Well, out here maybe you are. Now scoot.” Shooing at them, Jenn started to unpack her basket, sorting its contents from the top carefully to have reason to ignore further questions.

Ever the helpful one, Sun leaned over. “Can… we help?”

Pointing to the door, Jenn replied plainly, “Appreciated but maybe go work on that gyro thing if you want something to do.”

“Ah.” Perturbed by her change in mood, Sun stepped back, Moon at his side as they exited.

Under his breath, Moon hissed, “Rude,” but got shushed as they returned to the yard.

Side-eyeing them carefully, Jenn stopped her sorting once they were out of sight, just barely visible through the window as they descended the steps to the outside. That was awfully obedient of them, she pondered, rubbing her chin in thought. It might be nothing but if they’re only half awake then that’s a problem on its own. Leaning on the table, her eyes danced around the kitchen in time to her strings of thought.

Jenn knew full well why the anomaly didn’t mess with the Moondrop’s balancing system, but what got her more curious was the consistency with which he seemed to play dumb about it. It was reaching ‘beyond a shadow of a doubt’ territory that these two runaways absolutely did not know what they were, and that was deeply concerning. I tell myself not to mess around with this stuff anymore and yet there’s always something, isn’t there? she told herself bitterly. I need to get them as far away from their target area as possible before something happens. If they went rogue before their goal was achieved then there’s probably someone out there looking for them right now to finish it. If they don’t know their mission and ran off for their own reasons, as aware AI tends to do, then they also don’t know the conditions needed to fulfill their task. That’s bad. Very, very bad.

Hand over her mouth, Jenn reviewed her mental notes thoroughly, making a list of facts for herself.

One: They were not normal Task Managers. Not according to the component catalog she kept in the giant black binder in her lab.

Two: They did not know they were not normal. That for all intents and purposes, they should not exist as they do.

Three: She was not their objective. It simply didn’t make sense if she was.

And four: She couldn’t not help them. That wasn’t who she was.

If everything went well, there was a chance she could remove the problematic factors altogether and they would never know. A normal life was what they wanted, and she could give it to them. It was the right thing to do.

But they needed to trust her first.

Chapter Text

“I can’t believe she actually sent us outside. What are we, kids?” Moon grumbled to himself, sitting on the grass, knees pulled up to his chest. With mild disdain, he observed Sun as the golden bot did a stretching routine, running pre-performance diagnostics in preparation for whatever he planned to do next. Moon knew this without needing their Lock to tell him, as Sun’s eyes were cycling from teal to cyan to seafoam and back again in line with the check doing its job by micro-adjusting Sun's internal components from idle to show mode.

With a light smile, stretched out on one foot to check his lateral balance, Sun started, “Well, to some degree–” but got cut off by a displeased groan.

“I’m not being technical, Sun,” Moon shot back, elbows on his knees. “I know we don’t have a lot of up time or even a lot of real-world experiences so we might as well be kids, but we’re programmed with the equivalent mindset of an adult. We don’t need to be babysat or told by ‘mom’ to go play outside while she’s in the kitchen.”

Raising a brow, Sun slowly pivoted his hip, bringing his knee up to his chest. “I was going to say to some degree we’re behaving like children.” Moon scowled at him, which only made him grin more and add teasingly, “But I didn’t think you were coming to see Jenn as our mother~”

It was only for a moment, but Sun’s chroma-sensitive lenses detected a hue shift in his beloved brother’s face--from deep navy to rich purple--as the embarrassment hit him. “I do not!” If the chromatic shift didn’t give away his chagrin, the waver of his voice would have.

“Then why’re you so grouchy we got sent outside, oh brother of mine?” Sun extended his leg above his head, then slowly leaned back into a bend before finishing it as a full flip. Once he was on his feet again, he repeated the move with his other leg.

“I just said–” Catching himself, Moon narrowed his gaze toward his brother, whose face was scrunched in a poor effort to hide his amusement. “You’re being a dingus.”

Finishing his second maneuver, Sun changed the last step into a full split, sliding into the grass with barely a sound; he leaned forward, holding onto his knee to provide a pull that would relax his inner impact mechanisms. Stretching wasn’t really something they absolutely needed, unlike human performers, however many high-end Task Managers, particularly those with a focus on physical effort, had a complex system of metal-and-fluid pseudo-muscles under their shells that worked to grant them an immense range of motion and a high strength-to-mass ratio. While delicate and necessitating specialized workers to repair and maintain, these systems have grown more common in recent years due to their ability to double up on and protect the etherylle system that provided power and information to the rest of the body, working incredibly well with tactile sensors and the other micro-adjusting features of modern robotics to give the individuals with them an almost human level of touch sensitivity and action limitation.

The technology itself has been difficult to integrate into human reconstructive body modifications–-or HumCons as some call them-–due to the haptics often conflicting with natural nerve endings, but that wasn’t an issue when all of one’s body was a machine. Because of the intricacy of the systems working together, while not being absolutely necessary, it was advised that pseudo-muscle systems be eased into high-intensity work by ‘stretching’ them. Long, slow, repetitive engagement of the haptic sensors would cause a reaction in the systems that loosened the inner stability membrane, allowing it more flexibility thus increasing the hydraulic tension or torque it could withstand and deliver without seizing or tearing. In a way, it prevented mechanical muscle tearing and enhanced performance quality in a way–-though Sun simply did it out of habit and because he enjoyed the mental quiet it brought him through focusing on his internal mechanics. The steady release of tension at his joints paired with his cyclical exhaust intake was meditative, which he welcomed happily to ease the tension of the days prior, dulling it to a more manageable buzz in the furthest corners of his mental space.

While also enjoying a good stretch and tumble, Moon didn’t intend to join his brother purely out of spite for being told to do so; Jenn was not their owner and a part of him wanted to challenge her authority just on principle by defying her. He knew it was only because he felt he could get away with it–-pettiness was becoming rather enjoyable to express for once-–though the same part of his personality that wanted to be bratty also somewhat welcomed the possibility of retaliation. It would prove he was right and hopefully show Sun that this human, however altruistic she seemed, was no better than the one they ran from. Not worth attachment.

“What’re you thinking about?”

Moon’s attention pulled itself from his internalized moping to focus on Sun, who was still stretching, this time with his legs in a wide V and him nearly flat on his belly in the grass, chin on his forearms. It was such a normal scene to him, Moon almost forgot for a moment they weren’t in the garden at the estate; how Sun was able to relax and go about such a normal activity in a strange place was beyond him at this point. “You could know already if you wanted,” the navy bot answered after a pause, noticing Sun’s eyes had stopped flashing, meaning he was done calibrating and was now just laying like that for his own sake.

“I like it when you tell me.”

Limiting the use of their Lock’s communication features was something they’d agreed on not long after arriving at their designated ‘home’--partly because openly sharing their thoughts and feelings fostered a sense of trust while providing a boundary of privacy between them, and partly because they were chastised heavily for being ‘silent and secretive’ with each other more than once. By now, he knew Sun wouldn’t just pry into his mind without good reason, even if it would make communicating intent between them easier. Huffing, Moon relented. “I know. It wasn’t anything important.”

“You were making a face.”

Moon’s brow creased. “No, I wasn't.”

“Yes, you were.” Sitting up slowly, Sun stretched his back, pulling his legs in so he was seated between his own calves. “You were scowling and staring off into space.”

“I was not.”

“So your face is just like that?”

As if proving a point, Moon scowled deeply, glowering at his brother’s playful grin. “I’m going to get you if you keep that up,” the nocturnal brother warned, subtly shifting his weight in preparation to lunge.

“I stand by my observation,” Sun insisted, pointing to his own face while frowning mockingly. “You’re lucky we can’t wrinkle like a human or you’d have scowl lines.”

“Sun,” Moon urged, trying and failing to keep his expression from twisting into a grin.

“And with your complexion those lines wouldn’t do you any favors–”

A fraction of a second. Sun turned his head for just a moment, barely catching the tell and intent of Moon’s feet rocking him forward; pushing off with his legs, the lanky robot managed to flop out of the way by a hair as his brother’s hands hit the grass. The awkward position did him no favors in keeping balanced; tucking into a backroll, Sun sprang to his feet, smiling brightly.

Moon pushed up with his hands as he came into contact with nothing, pivoting to land on his own feet with a solid thud, already crouched and waiting without giving an opening to be exploited. Bright against his dark facial mold, Moon’s teeth flashed in his own grin. “There’s better ways to get me to play you know.”

“Do you want me to ask?” Sun retorted, watching as Moon began to side step slowly and matching him beat-for-beat.

“It would give me a chance to get ready, at least.”

“But you never need to get ready like I do~”

Moon rolled his eyes briefly, knowing it was somewhat true as he was always quicker to shift into performance mode simply by deciding it, not needing the stretching for anything more than keeping pace with Sun as he got ready. “I still enjoy the activity.” He chanced a step forward; Sun met it with a step back.

“You could have but you decided to mope instead.”

Moon’s weight dipped to one side–-Sun’s eyes darted there, anticipating him to step that way.

Catching the flicker of attention, Moon’s feint was successful–-he swung the other direction, rushing the gap in a single stride. Sun staggered at the change, failing to back away; pivoting on the ball of his foot, Moon gave a sweeping kick with his off leg. Going low, the move sailed over Sun’s head with plenty of distance.

Neither planned to hurt the other. Playful dance-fighting was simply a game.

With his full weight behind it, Moon was able to carry himself over Sun entirely, landing on his feet with another graceful thud. While distracted and back exposed, the daylight bot could only just avoid his brother’s grasp as Moon ducked down and swung at him, palm open, aiming for his head. Reflexively, Sun used his forearm to move Moon’s wrist away and step back again; Moon’s knee came up between them just as Sun shifted back, which got the darker bot to laugh a bit.

“You’ve gotten good at reading me,” he mused, earning a flicker of Sun’s radials in response. “But it’s still not enough to actually keep up.”

The triumphant grin on Sun’s face faded instantly, radials retracting a bit as he saw the shift in Moon’s demeanor-–from the way he balanced his center of gravity to the thin smirk on his lips that replaced the flash of a smile. Another kick–-forward round–-aimed to the head.

Sun ducked by dropping one leg to a crouch; his eyes widened as the attack passed overhead but Moon didn’t carry through, dropping forward in a blink to his hands. Springing back, both feet together, Moon forced Sun to jump again or risk having the entire mass of his sturdier brother driven into him. Barely, the golden bot avoided the collision, landing in a squat.

Without missing a beat, Moon let his momentum drift down, allowing him to sweep a kick out before either had genuinely recovered their balance. Using his hands to catch himself, Sun let the sweep take his feet out before springing back into another crouch and leaping up to make distance. Moon was on him though, having anticipated the recovery move.

Grabbing Sun’s long arm at the wrist and bicep, pressing in the way that his elbow didn’t go, Sun was trapped, forced into a spin as Moon swung him around while he didn't have his balance. This motion let Moon alter his grip while keeping Sun under control until the taller bot was forced into an awkward bend, arm twisted behind him in a way that kept his body off balance. Using his shoulder for leverage, Moon pushed two fingers against the nape of Sun’s neck-–the ‘warning shot’ that indicated victory.

“Okay! Okay! I give! I give!” Sun yelped, teetering dangerously as he tried to keep upright under the uncomfortable grip.

Immediately, Moon released his brother, bringing his arm under Sun’s chest to keep the gangly bot from tipping over entirely. Pleased with himself, Moon mused, “Getting better but still not ready for me to be serious.”

Making a face, Sun shrugged, playing up his disappointment at losing. “I still don’t understand when you learned to do that. It’s not like sparring was something we were asked to do.”

Dusting a bit of grass off Sun’s shoulder, Moon shrugged back. “From what I figured, dancing and fighting aren’t that different, it’s just intent. When you touch someone while dancing it’s gentle and non-violent. Fighting is just dancing but you want to hurt the other person.”

Grimacing, Sun’s rays flitted and returned to normal. “If you say so.” He held his hands out. “Do you want to actually dance now?”

The amusement left Moon’s face for a moment. “Sun–”

Flexing his hands in a ‘give’ motion, Sun insisted. “Please? It’s been so long, it feels like. I need to recalibrate, right? It’ll be easier if I have you with me.”

Relenting, Moon sighed, smile returning tiredly. “Alright, you have a point I suppose.”

Delighted, Sun bounced in place a bit, grabbing onto Moon’s hands to drag him into the middle of the yard. Through their link, they could find a melody they both knew without needing actual music. Agreeing on it wasn’t hard, they had a few shared favorites, Moon simply felt uncomfortable in the unfamiliar environment. Dancing took focus which he’d need to keep aware of the area–-not that he was doing that while they tussled just moments ago, which felt good but the persistent eyes he thought he sensed all around were getting bothersome. He was still uncertain how many cameras this area had, how much privacy they were genuinely afforded–-if the human wasn’t remotely observing them when she wasn’t in direct line of sight of them.

If something happened, would he be able to handle it if he was distracted?

Yet Moon couldn’t fight the desire to dance with his brother. To have those few minutes of peace within their own connection. The one thing that was solely theirs. It would strengthen their Lock, which was always their default priority, so it was practical at least.

A snort escaped him as Sun pulled him to the spot in the yard that had been decided on. Practical.

When did he start needing to justify dancing as practical ?

~

Under the clattering of dishes and utensils a hum bounced through the air, occasionally broken up by rhythmic popping and tongue clicking. It wasn’t without method or reason but to an observer they would only hear the odd sounds coming from the human unprompted, her ears covered by blue headphones that dampened outside noise while masking the music she was wrapped up in. In an effort to calm her own mind, Jenn opted to drown her thoughts out by burying them in her musical library, willfully putting herself into a state of forced focus that ignored everything outside her immediate task. Too many things needed to be accounted for, too many details begged for her to rip them apart into molecular detail–-Jenn had to stop herself before she got overwhelmed by her own bad habits.

She would help them. They would leave. Back to normal. Clear conscience.

Over and over she told herself that whenever her mind strayed to questions. While she hated not having answers, by this point the loner human had determined anything more was a hazard to her safety. In this rare instance, the less she knew, the safer she would be.

I still want to know though, the echo of her thoughts purred, tempting her to the rabbit hole of barbed wire and glue.

Shaking her head to clear it, Jenn focused on the lyrics of the song that currently vibrated her skull, hands working to chop up starchy roots for drying. Under her breath, she sang along, working through her pile of foraged goods to get them ready for later use. She needed to get this done before she wasted perfectly good edibles by forgetting they existed for a week while unpeeling the mysteries she found herself wrapped up in.

I can’t believe I forgot they were in the yard.

Cheeks burning, Jenn shook her head again.

They heard me singing.

She turned the volume up.

I mean, they didn’t say it was bad but they totally believed I was a creature of the forest.

Mental sabotage. Mutiny!

They’re out in the yard right now. Should I check on them?

No, they weren’t babies. She swept the chunks of starch onto a wicker flat and shoved it into the rafters to dry among the spices and herbs.

From the kitchen table she used as a booster, Jenn’s eyes caught movement and flicked to the window. Blue and yellow blurs spun across the yard, taunting her for a closer peek. Against her better judgment, the human clamored over to the glass portal, watching the paired robots as they flowed, jumped around and passed each other in coordinated motions. None of it matched the song currently playing in her ears, but it didn’t matter that much, as Jenn barely felt what had devolved into little more than muddled noise as she analyzed her guests.

“Fascinating,” she breathed, watching the trail of motion and energy the pair exchanged as the lead position shifted from the Moondrop to the Sunrise-–she could just barely tell based on who moved first and how at a given time. Locks were something Jenn was familiar with, along with the various sorts of ‘lesser’ grade model on the market; it was a known but unspoken fact among the inhabitants of the wilds of Azil that there was a direct relationship between the market grade of a companion and the rate of ‘rogueness’ they experienced upon gaining awareness. A fact that might make it a bit difficult for the two of them to be accepted amongst their own if they tried to integrate into a colony.

Not that I care, Jenn mused to herself while watching Moon easily swing Sun around himself in a fancy lifting technique. They could stay here and it wouldn’t make a difference if they were copper or goldlight–

She paused, looking away from the window.

That’s dumb and risky. Frowning at herself, the echo in her mind whispered, Then again, I could study them more if they stayed. Wapping herself on the forehead a few times, Jenn got down from the table. “No, no, bad Jenn! They’re not lab rats. Do not get attached.” Her tongue tapped the corner of her mouth. “I haven’t gotten to really look into their models though–” She clapped herself on the cheeks, voice straining, “STOOOOOPPPPPP!” with a deep rumble of frustration. “Science is for sleepers, and they are not asleep!”

Pulling off her headphones, Jenn took a moment to wet a clean cloth and wipe her face down, then her neck and shoulders; the cold water gave her a mild shock that broke the rampant cycle of cognitive dissonance that had started, granting her a chance to breathe. To think clearly. “Drag my inherent curiosity,” the human mumbled after a moment, squeezing the rag out and putting it over the towel rack to dry.

Regardless of the grade disparity and their mysterious origins, the Sunrise and Moondrop were, for all intents and purposes, still that. The materials were rare, sure, and the other features begged a lot of questions she didn’t feel safe answering, but fundamentally they were still what they were made to be: entertainers. Fancy toys, in a sense, made for the rich. Things that she–-and people like her–-would be incredibly unlikely to interact with, let alone own, a day in their lives simply due to station.

‘Stars shine for everyone but there is only one place for Uls.’

While the original meaning had long been broken and reassembled over the years, the intention remained consistent: you only get the good things when you’re lucky. It was something her parents often disparaged in her youth whenever new outlets pushed stories of ‘rogue robots’ upending construction projects or stealing from convoys. ‘Luck’ had nothing to do with how one should be treated.

But it did have a hand in where you started in life, Jenn felt, and that made a huge difference in how one turned out.

She was lucky by way of having loving parents that encouraged her interests as a child. There were many who could not claim the same even in her own neighborhood when growing up. Despite their job stations, the three of them were not lucky enough, however, to be wealthy; the fantasy of having a companion with the form and features of anything above Silver class was merely smoke and wishful thinking, though she knew now as an adult it had less to do with the economic state of her hometown and more with her parents’ morals and decisions. Those same ethics remained with her, even now, far from that place and the memories it held.

One could see these two immaculately crafted dancers turning somersaults in the grass and assume they were very lucky to be what they are-–Jenn herself was guilty of that very thought initially. Made to do nothing, living in leisurely apartments and condos, enjoying the finer parts of life that others could only dream of having. Running away from that? A fool’s errand. A choice made by the ignorant and naive…

… according to the jealous and shortsighted.

What would make a companion run away from a life of simplicity and excess? Jenn pondered rhetorically, having a general idea bubbling in the corners of her mind that made her gut twist as she put her headphones back on. Given what she knew about E’rta? It wasn’t good–-made worse knowing that they had been there for months, living their entire waking lives among the upper echelons of a city that had what could be generously considered a ‘divisive’ history.

E’rta was a city built on the backs of liars and the bones of the unlucky.

Of course it ends up being me that has to help this situation, a stray thought piped in as Jenn pulled down some glassware jars from a cabinet, placing them in the sink. I promise myself not to get involved in local politics and here I am harboring the runaways of some rich schmuck on the bad end of a political offense–-or worse yet, a military officer who really likes his toys being spicy or the thrill of abusing his power.

Kneeling to another cabinet, Jenn fished out a container that worked as a heat bath, setting it up absently to sanitize her jars for canning. Rinse, place, rinse, place-–she filled the well with glass jars and their matching lids, then poured a bit of water in and sealed it up, letting the heat bath steam up so they’d be ready for fermentable goodies. Music thrummed, slowly pushing away the deeper thoughts that wanted her attention.

It doesn’t matter, she firmly reminded herself. They wanted to leave, they have that right. The rest is up to them to figure out. I’m not their mother.

One thought still lingered, wiggling its way past the barrier of sound she filled her mind with.

A Goldlight class was already rare enough in the wilds; being able to afford such high end parts often included a lifestyle that was hard to justify leaving. Doubled with their particular type being the most expensive–-Sunrise and Moondrop–-the odds gave Jenn pause.

Had she ever met either of those kinds before in the wilds?

Despite the assumption that Goldlight and Quicksilver came from a quality of life considered envious, she had met a few here and there–-a Lune who’d grown tired of always being in the middle of patrons fighting in front of the club his owner ran, a Dawn who’d been replaced as a tutor after a bug in her update messed with her ability to add or modify new lesson plans for her students, a bizarre trio of two Days and a Night that had taken to burglary after their owner suddenly lost their job due to economic issues–-but never a Sunrise or a Moondrop of any class. Not even a whisper. Too rare to have proper sample size, as her father would say.

But both? A bonded pair, even, with Goldlight features–-and then some–-plus the most complex array of mental components she’d seen outside of excavation teams and Nebula-class processors.

They might not have had a chance, the whisper added, reminding her of the tracking chips installed in the pair that she’d pried out and discarded before bringing them back online. Perhaps others just never had an opportunity to venture far before getting returned?

Not everyone was lucky enough to find help when they needed it, unfortunately.

Sighing, Jenn lifted her chin so she was gazing at the ceiling. In her mind she was thinking of the sky and the yellow-green shimmer of the aurora overhead, the roof itself barely being an obstacle in her visualization. “Somehow,” she muttered mostly to herself, “this is your fault. I just know it.”

A noise to her left got her attention–-a dark shape lingered in the doorway.

Yelping, Jenn jumped back from the counter, catching her heel on a stack of books. The shape darted toward her–-her wrist was grabbed firmly before she could topple, pulling her upright.

A flash of concern slipped from Moon’s face, replaced by a smug grin as he realized he’d startled her. Whipping her headphones off, Jenn barked, “FOR THAKK’S SAKE–!” but he only chuckled at her, relaxing his grip.

Amused, Moon countered, “I knocked before entering,” while leaning against the table with his arms folded. “Not my fault you weren’t paying attention.”

Heart pounding from the whole event, Jenn took a measured breath, curbing her initial spark of her temper because he was right-–it was her fault for turning her music up too loud. “Okay, yeah, fine, you got me-–what do you need?”

Eyes darting over the current state of the kitchen and only coming away confused at what was going on, Moon’s gaze lingered on Jenn a moment.

/MD-Diagnostic assessment: Subject_Jenn%//

>Symptoms noted:

>>Elevated heart rate_

>>Cold sweat_

>>Flushed skin_

>>Presence of under eye bags_

>>Heavy breathing_

/Results indeterminate//

Moon briefly forgot what he was there for and instead asked, “Are you feeling alright?” out of directive-prone habit.

Jenn squinted at him with confusion, righting herself now that she could breathe calmly. “Yeah? Why?”

An inquisitive arch of a brow gave a silent question.

Deflecting the suspicion, Jenn rolled her eyes. “You just scared the pants off me, don't think too hard on it.” Disbelieving her but unwilling to prod, Moon only grunted dismissively. “Seriously, what do you want? Is he alright?” Faintly she gestured at the window to indicate Sun, her voice holding a genuine thread of worry.

“He’s fine,” Moon replied neutrally though a very slight turn of his lips remained, as he was still amused by getting the drop on her, accident or not. “But he is why I'm here terrorizing you.” Jenn’s lips pursed at his tease. “Stupid question, but do you have anything we can borrow that could work like a balance beam? Sun doesn’t think he’s being challenged enough to recalibrate properly. Assuming you know what–”

Cutting into his jab, Jenn snapped, “I know what a balance beam is,” earning a deflecting gesture, his hands raising. One of you is challenged plenty and it’s not sunshine, she added to herself, knowing he was being snarky on purpose; funnily enough it gave her an idea, her own mouth curling in a smug grin. “And I’ll even do you one better.”

Moon couldn’t tell if he was curious or suspicious of her intentions. Probably both.

~

“What in Azil’s shell is this?”

Neither brother knew what they were looking at for a moment aside from massively overgrown shrubs and climbers that had won the battle against whatever was underneath them, the clearing full to bursting with foliage and creeping vines twisting in and out of tree branches and structures of metal and rope that must have served a purpose before the plant Armageddon arrived. Jenn herself seemed perturbed as they arrived at the edge of the leafy wall after a few minutes of trekking through the forest at her behest, one hand rubbing the back of her head confusedly. “Well, it was my training course,” she answered after a moment, Moon feeling more confused than before. “I knew I forgot something when I got home.”

“Training course?” the navy bot inquired. Beside him, Sun knelt down and grabbed a leaf from the dense cloud of green wrapping around their feet, giving it a gentle squeeze and finding it plush and bouncy.

“Uh, yeah.” Even the human found her words hard to believe for a moment.

“Training for what ?”

Casting a glance at the nosey blue robot, Jenn raised a brow. “Well, unlike you I have to actually maintain my fitness levels.” Moon’s eyes glinted brightly at her sarcasm. “Don’t let the overgrowth fool you,” she added on, kneeling next to Sun and pulling a coil of greenery out of the ground with little resistance. “Trusslin is a very fast growing plant, leave it be long enough and it’ll overtake an area in a matter of weeks. I must have forgotten to come trim it back.”

“It’s soft,” Sun commented, adding the data to his collection of plants.

“Ain’t it?” she mused, grabbing another handful.

“Why not just get rid of it?” Moon wondered, tilting his head while studying one of the overgrown structures.

“Cuz it happens that a carpet of trusslin is really great for breaking falls,” Jenn replied, standing up and pressing a leaf against Moon’s face, causing him to lean away. The leaf dropped onto his shoulder, causing him to pick it up and pause, rubbing it between his fingers; the leaves were velvety and gave way slightly, as if they were little pillows of air that had deflated just a tad. “It’s not gonna stop you from eating shekt if you fall from too high, but I’ve avoided quite a few broken bones because of this stuff. Grows like crazy if it’s light enough and forms natural curls in the stems that tangle together like a net. Just, uh…” She waved her hand over the mess. “Gotta keep up on pruning.”

Taking the leaf from Moon, who was done playing with the plant scrap, Sun squished it between his fingers, trying to contain a giggle. “What do you do with the trimmings?” he wondered, lifting the leaf toward his brother’s face, causing him to lean away slightly.

“Uh…” Thinking for a moment, Jenn counted with her fingers. “Compost, fodder, mulch… there’s no nutritional value unfortunately, and it doesn’t taste like anything, but you can dry them and they stay puffy and soft so I like to use the unbroken ones as scrub pads sometimes, otherwise they’re great padding for pillows and stuff.”

Grabbing Sun’s wrist and shooting him a glare when the leaf returned to his personal bubble, Moon snatched it from his brother’s grasp and dropped it out of reach; Sun only grinned mischievously back at him. “So I’m guessing if we want to use this stuff, we need to cull the overgrowth?” he asked as his other hand moved to stop Sun from putting a vine on his head.

“Unfortunately,” Jenn sighed, turning to face them. “I’ll get a bag and my trimmers and be right back.”

She’d barely left their line of sight before something soft came into swift contact with Moon’s temple–-or it tried to at least, before he’d snatched it mid-arc, incidentally crushing the object in his hand. Wet grass wasn’t his favorite scent, but that was far less important than the sound of Sun’s amused snickering. “Quit it,” the darker bot warned, catching the quick motion of Sun plucking another leaf from the overgrowth. “What’re you doing?”

In response, Sun tossed the leaf at his face, causing him to swat it away.

“Sun!” Moon took a step toward his brother, intending to stop him from grabbing anything else to mess with.

Pftb.

They both paused, looking down. Moon lifted his foot, revealing a crushed trusslin leaf that had all of the air force out of it suddenly.

Sun choked back a snicker, chest quivering.

Moon bit the inside of his lip to keep back a laugh of his own, how voice warbling as he tried to keep it in. “Sun-–Sun that’s not–” A grinding, throaty sound from the golden bot got him to cough a bit, both of them struggling to not laugh at the absurd noise. “Shut up, that–-mkh–-that wasn’t funny.”

“Yes it was.” Sun’s voice was barely a squeak.

Cheeks aching from trying to fight the urge to smile, Moon had to turn away, losing the battle slowly against his own poor humor. “We really are children.”

Doubled over, Sun nodded, trying his best to calm himself down. A thick, fuzzy leaf bobbed in front of him as he exhaled; teal eyes flicked to Moon for a moment, then back to the leaf.

Moon saw the glance. “Do not.”

Sun reached for the leaf slowly, now holding Moon’s gaze with his mouth pressed thin with guilty pleasure.

“Sunrise.”

In a flash, Sun grabbed the leaf and pulled, twisting upright–-

–-Moon darted, trying to rip the leaf away before anything could be done with it.

~

Jenn lifted her head, cocking to one side instinctively in an effort to listen as her eyes skimmed the area. “Was that a yelp?” Standing, she hauled the burlap sack used for trimmings over her shoulder, grabbed the large pair of garden shears from their resting place at the base of the tree holding her home aloft and faced the direction of her equipment. No further rustling or odd changes to the wind came to her, so she dismissed the possibility it was an animal quickly.

Waiting patiently at her side, Rukbat’s nose pointed in the same direction she turned, ears perked and tail held still. With an airy whistle, Jenn gave the command to seek; bounding off, the canine darted into the tree line. She followed, taking long strides to cover ground quickly, only slightly assured that her guard dog hadn’t given an indicator of danger. The clearing wasn’t far by any means so it took only a minute to return, her concerns evaporating into an amused chuckle at the sight of Rukbat, tail wagging fiercely, with his teeth clamped tight to Sun’s sleeve in an effort to yank him upright from his sprawled position.

“What did you two do?” she wondered, failing to hide her laughter as she took in the sight before her. Both of the brothers were prone, tangled in the vines of the trusslin like storm-fallen branches, struggling to free themselves from the twisted grip of the vegetation.

Pointing with his free hand to his unluckier brother, Sun blurted, “He shoved me!”, jerking slightly to one side in time to Rukbat’s continuous yanking on his shirt sleeve.

“I–” the unfortunate Moon huffed, voice slightly muffled by the foliage, “--I did not! YOU fell on your own!” While Sun had the good graces to fall back-first, preserving his dignity, Moon had been less lucky; in an effort to catch himself and avoid his face meeting the ground with unwarranted enthusiasm, he’d thrown his hand out but in doing so had gotten his arm tangled in the coiling vines as they ensnared him in a way that worsened whenever he tried to pull free.

Fighting down her laughter, Jenn mused, “Alright, hold on,” while putting her supplies down and waving Rukbat off from his misplaced eagerness. “Perimeter. Go.” With a single whimper, the Stellis bounded into the trees to check the area as commanded so he wouldn’t be underfoot. Jenn couldn’t help the grin on her face as she planted her feet firmly, offering her hand to the taller bot; with a grunt, she was able to pull Sun upright, the vines snagging and tugging at his clothes in an effort to keep him trapped. They fell away easily enough, having been more a nuisance that kept Sun from finding the leverage to sit up than anything else. “What did we learn today?”

From the foliage, Moon grumbled, “Plants are evil,” while waiting for his turn, a single iris glimmering in the shade of the leaves. This only made Jenn chuckle louder, which he didn’t enjoy much.

“Hold still, I'm coming.”

A click and hum of parts rearranging made Moon twitch, the vines tightening in their lattice-like hold so he couldn’t turn to look.

Blue light filled the shadowy space of the underbrush as Jenn crouched with more grace than he’d fallen with and began to rock her mechanical arm rhythmically against the plants that held him down. A snap–-then another–-she pulled the vines one by one just enough to slide her pinkie finger between them and saw away at them; Moon realized quickly the click had been her finger joint swapping into a small blade, serrated and sharp but no bigger than her finger had been. “How handy,” he commented, meaning it as a compliment but sounding as annoyed as he felt.

“It is,” she agreed, still grinning but unbothered by his tone.

With a final cut, Moon’s arm came free. Standing at the ready, Sun grabbed his brother's elbow and hauled, dragging the dark bot back from the tangle onto his feet. Quietly, the golden bot whispered, “I’m sorry,” helping to dust grass clippings from Moon’s shirt.

Moon grunted, unamused but accepting the apology; it wasn’t worth being genuinely upset over. This time.

Stepping lightly, Jenn retraced her steps to get out of the overgrowth so she wouldn’t wrap herself up by accident and brushed her skirt down, finger blade swapping back with a soft snick. “Well,” she mused, hands on her hips once they were settled, “had enough trusslin trimming for the day or are you boys still willing to help cut it back?”

Sharing a quick look to confirm their answers, they both spoke together, “I’d like to!/I'd like revenge.”

Hefting up the shears, she offered them to the pair with a faint grin. “Who wants them?”

Immediately, Sun shook his head, uncomfortable with such a large, unwieldy tool made of sharp edges and intentions of horticultural homicide.

Moon hesitated a moment before also shaking his head; briefly, he’d considered simply using water to trim the plants back but a fearful weight in his gut made him reconsider just as quickly. Neither of them had made an effort to show off their ‘unique skills’, he realized, briefly pondering if she already knew or not. If she did it wouldn’t matter, but he didn’t feel like risking any more of their personal abilities being known by a stranger if it could come back to bite them later. Thinking fast, he pushed a warning to Sun through their Lock with emphasis on his disapproval of the notion before it could occur to the taller bot–-Sun was more likely to act on a whim, as they’d shown plenty of the higher class their specialty beforehand so the risk would likely not occur to him.

Moon could only pray that the breadth of Jenn’s knowledge stopped at the basics and that she didn’t already know or recognize the pair of them carried the faculty for elemental conjuration. Any advantage they could gain would be useful, even if it was underhanded, in the event of the worst case scenario-–the deep nagging feeling he’d been trying to ignore grew stronger as Sun touched his own head for a moment as the push reached him. He looked at Moon curiously, the idea barely taking form before it was shut down by external prompting. Taking it to mean he had good reason to be cautious about their abilities being made known, Moon simply twitched his head in a subtle ‘no’, doubling down on the warning.

Water and fire would remain their secret until absolutely necessary.

“Well,” Jenn’s voice chirped, unaware of them having any sidebar conversation at all, “have fun using your hands then. Don’t get tied up again.”

Unhappy, Moon accepted the light jab without fuss, watching her turn on her heel and drop to the ground with ease to begin slicing the wayward bushes to pieces. The pair of performers moved to either side of the human and knelt, each grabbing hold of a fistful of vines and pulling them free with differing satisfaction at their respective results. Happy to be helpful, Sun picked systematically at the tangles from their roots, but Moon was more keen to vent his annoyance by taking a vine in hand and pulling, often snapping them half way down as the tension gave out. Jenn focused on cutting, mindful of where each of them stood and where their hands were before making a slice, creating a somewhat clear path into the mess they could walk through without tripping.

Some amount of time passed in busy silence, a growing pile of trimmings marking their progress at clearing the overgrown mess from around the equipment that supposedly lay beneath it all. Constructs made of metal and wood fashioned together with wire, bolts and braces slowly revealed themselves, surprising Moon with how sturdy they were-–absolutely not passing any safety inspections but sturdy enough to be usable. Off and on between exchanging questions and directions, the navy bot thought he heard a hum but couldn't quite pinpoint where it was coming from for a while. By the end of their endeavor, he only had the assumption it was Jenn, yet if it was she would stop if he got too close.

Is she shy or messing with me? he wondered, dumping a load of leaves and sticks into the brush pile.

Jenn groaned and stretched, getting his attention. Somewhere in the back, Sun was coming around with his own collection of detritus. “I think that’s good enough for now,” the human decided, hair matted to her neck with sweat. “I’m ready for–”

“OW!”

Startled by the unexpected sound, Jenn and Moon bolted to the edge of the clearing where the cry came from, skidding to a halt at the sight of Sun nursing his foot while leaning on one of the upright structures. Audibly worried, Moon asked, “What happened??” kneeling to give his brother’s leg a quick scan; the alerts read as superficial with no real damage detected.

“I kicked that,” Sun answered, indicating a circular object buried under the leaves he’d been carrying with a tip of his head. Curious, Jenn circled behind them and pulled the object out, light bouncing off of it with a metallic gleam; it was a ring of chrome-like metal, unadorned with a bright shine despite being out in the wilderness for Azil-knows-how-long.

“Oh!” she chirped, hefting it over her head to give it a once-over. “That’s where I left it! Thanks for finding my hoop, bright eyes. Sorry you used your foot for it though.”

Satisfied nothing was broken, Moon let Sun put his foot down so he could stand, frowning. “You’re lucky it wasn’t a more serious injury. You have too much junk lying around, I'm surprised we haven’t tripped on anything before now.”

Giving the terse robot sharp side-eye, Jenn shrugged lightly. “Before now the only one at risk of injury was me so leaving my ‘junk’ out was never a problem.”

“I’m fine though,” Sun cut in, flexing his toes against the grass; they stung but his system detected no internal errors. It had startled him more than anything. “What is that thing? It’s heavy.”

“A weighted sling hoop,” Jenn answered, giving the ring a twirl over her wrist. “I got one for fitness reasons but got busy and forgot where I left it.”

“Sling hoop?” Sun’s brow furrowed a moment before he recalled why it sounded familiar. “Oh! We had a few of those, didn’t we?”

Moon raised a brow when Sun turned to him for an answer, as if seeking permission to share details. “For a bit, I think, but they were smaller and not weighted as much. I don’t even know where they went, if I’m being honest.”

The motion of the ring swirling brought their eyes back to it, Jenn absently swishing it around her wrist with ease; light shimmered across the surface, almost blindingly at times–-with a flick, the ring soared up above their heads, the metal finish hard to ignore in the yellow glow of the aurora. As it reached the peak of its arc and began to fall, a different flash of the light cut across the canopy with intent to intercept the metal ring before ducking into the trees, treasure in claw.

“OI!” Jenn barked at the flash. “AQUILA!”

The avian circled back overhead, the ring held securely in her talons.

“AQUILA, DROP IT!”

The bird made no indicator of doing so, heading off to the house.

Slumping, Jenn groaned, “Aaaaaaand that’s why I don’t use it anymore, she’s obsessed with that thing.”

“It is shiny,” Sun offered in condolences, which earned him a rueful grin.

Moon sighed, “Well, so much for that,” a bit amused at the situation. Seems she’s not in complete control of her companions. Amusement turned to confusion quickly as that thought settled more at the forefront of his mind: Cygnus units weren’t supposed to be disobedient. In fact, they weren't even supposed to do anything outside of their one function--to look pretty by imitating real birds. Knowing she’d gone to great lengths to build them herself implied Jenn had either intentionally programmed disobedience into her companion or the AI had developed this quirk at some point but she never corrected it.

Jenn was not exercising control over the lesser robots as their maker or owner.

Something in his gut twisted uncomfortably. A touch at his back brought him out of his thoughts, meeting Sun’s concerned gaze as he looked over his shoulder. “Are you alright?” the gold bot asked quietly, Jenn peering around him curiously.

Realizing he was being observed, Moon straightened and replied, “I’m fine, just thinking about going back to the house.”

“Oh.” Sun looked back at Jenn, then out to the equipment they’d spent the better part of a day liberating from the forest’s green grasp. “We can go if you–”

Moon held up his hand. “I want to go back. If you want to stay out here for a bit longer you can.”

Perking up, Sun grinned. “Really? Alright!”

Gives me a chance to look around more, Moon added to himself, giving a small wave as he departed from the clearing. The twist returned as soon as he was out of sight. It wasn’t the same as the nagging at the back of his mind-–that one was persistent, it made his shell feel cold inside and his system like it was running rapidly–-yet it wasn’t positive either.

He felt sick, if that were even possible.

Why?

Exiting the trees, Moon’s gaze drifted automatically up to the roost where he knew the bird made its home; sure enough, its metallic feathers glimmered and shone as it settled down, examining its prize with its beak. The feeling churned deep within his structural coils, slimy and loud. Ascending the steps of the house, Moon was too busy internally assessing to notice he was piloting himself toward the avian’s resting spot until he heard a rasp and snapped back to the present. Wings spread, Aquila stared him down with piercing magenta eyes, a low, metallic scraping noise cutting through the air as a warning he was getting too close.

What am I doing? he wondered, splaying his hands to show he was unarmed and meant no harm. Animals don’t even like me.

Seeing he was empty-handed, Aquila’s wings lowered slightly–-but her grip on the hoop only tightened.

This Stellis was bigger than he considered; while he was growing familiar with the golden shimmer of its feathers, Moon hadn’t truly considered how bulky this thing was, as it was always a distance away whenever he got to look at it. The few times it was near Jenn, whose size he was acutely aware of, it hadn’t truly struck him until now that this was a large unit. A majority of the time, a Cygnus’s size was directly related to its functionality: small units were meant to flutter and move around, large ones were slow and not designed to meander. In this case, though, it was large and functional.

Brilliant magenta eye lenses were set into what he assumed was a salvaged endo-skeleton taken from a parrot or owl base model, but padded and plated with metal feathers layered like shingles that appeared hand-hammered and cut to size for where they were meant to be. Most of them were yellow–-brass perhaps-–but slivers of copper and steel popped up here and there, welded together to make up for missing material or repairs when the base alloy wasn’t available. The forward edge of the wings had structures with deep divots Moon assumed were to help guide air over the wings, but he couldn’t be certain. They weren’t standard at least, he knew that much.

A sharp beak with a hook at the end and dark talons that-–to his shock-–measured nearly a finger-length to him glinted, threatening to teach him a painful lesson if he tried to take the treasured ring by force. Like all the things in this place, this robot was bizarre-–mismatched and not to market spec yet even through his cynical view of things, Moon could tell this one was crafted and maintained with no less care than the canine or the twin computers that floated about, hiding in nooks and crannies to spy on them all quietly. There was no mistaking the amount of deliberate effort that went into, not repairing, but custom building such things out of scrap and sheer gumption.

Jenn was talented, he would admit, but he couldn’t for the life of him grasp why she wasted her effort on smaller things like Stellis units when she obviously had the knowledge to work on Task Managers like them but simply didn’t. Aquila squawked softly, turning her head to eye him better when he didn’t move. His gaze darted across the avian as he thought, taking mental notes on her build and features. The fact this unit was still behaving like a bird when out of sight meant it wasn’t for show, thus not a Cygnus programming feature-–not anymore at least.

This bird had free-running AI, on purpose. Typically this was used for Task Managers, Stardusts and Stellis units with functions outside of decoration, such as the Sirius Guardian line which behaved like dogs at all hours rather than just when commanded or viewed by others. Smaller Cygnus would have this so they could appear ‘natural’ but it made no sense for a large decorative unit to have it nor would it develop this feature organically over time. The only conclusion he had was that Jenn purposefully gave this bird a kind of free will to behave like the animal it was modeled after even when it wasn’t needed.

But why?

None of the things this weird human girl did made sense to him. Not when viewing her through the lens of comparison to other humans he’d met at least. Jenn was not like the humans in E’rta-–every time he tried to catch her in one of their known patterns, accuse her of things he knew them to be guilty of, Moon was proven wrong. None of them would allow something like this Cygnus–-Aquila, he corrected himself–-to exist with its own sense of self-direction simply because. In fact, he was sure they wouldn’t build her in the first place purely due to her being ‘ugly’ with her mottled metal shell and rough layering of feathers.

Yet Jenn gave her self-directing features, played with her in the yard-–there wasn’t even a leash. Aquila was able to steal an object from her master, defy a command, fly off and face no consequences. Jenn had simply accepted the hoop was gone for now. The twist spread through his system again as these facts stacked up, becoming impossible to ignore.

He felt guilty.

Gentle prodding snapped him out of his mental echo chamber, causing him to jump slightly. A raspy squawk that almost sounded like a question made him realize that while he was reeling from his own judgmental thought processes being wrong, Aquila had deigned to leave her spot and shuffle across the hand rail toward him. The hoop rested on the perch, undisturbed and unguarded; he didn’t dare try to grab it with the massive bird staring him down from barely a foot away. She’d scraped her beak across his arm with surprising care, head cocked so one eye had a full view of him. Through the pink lenses of her eye shield, Moon saw a shutter coil in on itself as it focused silently on his face.

Absently, he reached toward her with his far hand, pausing when she opened her beak warningly. The ruffle in her feathers settled after a second, giving him a chance to near her again; a murmuring sound hummed from the bird before she clicked her beak, making him freeze again. What am I doing? Moon asked himself yet again, trying to find a logical reason he was even trying to mess with this thing in the first place. I’m stupid, I’m going to lose a finger because of my own curiosity.

Head swiveling a bit, Aquila considered her options: bite or no bite? Blue was patient but held anger in yellow eyes. Yellow was loud but green eyes were kind. Choices choices.

With a quick nip, Aquila closed her beak on Moon’s finger–-he tensed, fighting the reaction to jerk back just enough to realize it didn’t hurt. Once–-twice more she gave his finger a quick tap between her sharp mouthparts before seeming satisfied with his lack of reaction. Cooing, she sat back, lifting her chin so her neck fluffed.

Unsure what it meant, Moon pursed his mouth, huffed, and took a risk to stroke her neck with the back of his fingers. Unsurprisingly, the metal feathers weren’t soft but they folded aside at the slightest touch, giving the illusion of it; faintly, Moon’s mouth turned up at the edge. Aquila allowed him to pet her neck a few times before having enough and making the rasping sound that he took to mean displeasure. While she shuffled back to her perch, Moon looked out over the yard, finding it quite the vantage point. Somewhere in the brush, he could make out Rukbat still running a perimeter check, while the tree tops were just visible enough that the gap of the clearing was demarcated as a shadowy line; the bird must have seen the flash of the chrome finish from her perch. Up there, Moon felt almost peaceful.

Maybe it was a good thing his assumptions were proving to be wrong.

It was nice here.

Chapter Text

Sun’s rays fluttered excitedly, even after his brother’s silhouette had disappeared into the treeline. Turning with a wide smile, he paused upon seeing the troubled look on Jenn’s face as she stared after Moon. It was gone in a blink however, a half-smile replacing the concern as she looked up to him, a playful quirk of her brow denoting amusement at his own excitement. “Come on, bright eyes,” she casually pointed over her shoulder with her thumb, “we got enough cleared off you can use some of the stuff now.”

Step-in-step, Sun tailed behind the human as she moved between the uncovered structures, tying her skirt up around her hips to keep it out of the way. While working, Sun had occupied his mind with trying to determine the use of each piece of equipment that seemed familiar to him, even vaguely. Many of the things Jenn used for her own fitness resembled the ones he and Moon used a long, long time ago–-

Was it that long? Sun asked himself as Jenn twisted the top of a hip-level, flat dais the size of a dinner plate, knocking loose a few vines that avoided the clippers. It sure feels like it. The estate had none of the things they’d used to hone their balance and flexibility; this feeling of recognition was from before then, in the murky days that he could barely recall as he came into himself under the guidance of his builders.

Moon was there, that much he knew, but the rest came and went in waves. If he tried to think too hard, he only got tired–-so many new faces had entered and left his memory since then, it was impossible to fully sort out if they were from before at the facility he was made in or simply the earliest of the visitors to the estate. Many of his strongest memories from then were of Moon and them forming their bond, but the rest…?

Silvon. The name jumped out at him like a rabbit breaking cover from a predator, almost startling him.

The magenta-eyed human that introduced them to that woman-–to Vissara.

Faintly, Sun hoped the well-dressed but cold human was well and hadn’t gotten in too much trouble because of them. It was hard to forget that gaze, even from a time when memories were still a bit blurry with age. Despite being stone-faced and emotionally distant, Silvon had been polite to them and taught them how to behave in the estate, giving them schedules and tasks to keep them out of trouble when they got too curious. Sun had every reason to like Silvon.

It was odd to him that he didn’t.

In fact, he felt nothing in regard to the magenta-eyed human. Not hate or love, he didn’t like or dislike Silvon in any regard. They simply existed in the estate as Vissara’s assistant, while Sun coexisted indifferently to them.

Weird, he concluded, having expected to feel one way or another. He had opinions about everyone he met, however briefly. Shrugging lightly, Sun chose to unpack his less-than-complex feelings later–-perhaps he should ask Moon what he felt about Silvon? That might sway him one way or another.

“These’ll probably help with your balance issue.” Jenn’s voice cut through the golden bot’s thoughts, drawing him back to the present. She’d climbed onto the small dais while he was distracted and stretched one leg out, her other wobbling slightly as she tried to keep poised on the disk as it twitched back and forth in an attempt to knock her off. “Just be prepared to kiss the grass in the meantime. They’re–”

Body jerking sharply as her ankle gave out, Jenn buckled. Hands up, Sun stepped forward, prepared to catch her–-swinging her other leg down, Jenn righted herself enough not to fall. The balancing plate still jerked and twitched at the slightest movement, but she fared much better on two legs.

“I really don’t want to fall on you,” she warned, eventually finding her equilibrium by holding her arms out.

“Well,” he replied, taking a half step back, “catching you would be better than kissing the ground, right?”

“Says the guy made of metal.”

“I’m softer than I look!”

A flicker of her brow dipping suspiciously–-Jenn swung her leg again, making the plate spin in place. As she came back to the front, her expression was back to normal; she nodded beside herself to the neighboring plate. “Go try one.”

Looking where she indicated, Sun could make out a handful of similar daises of varying sizes and heights scattered about the immediate area. Picking one next to his guide, he pulled himself up with a single stride, wobbling just a bit as the pivot slid around underfoot; crouching reflexively, the lanky bot held fast to the edges until it stopped moving. Slowly, he stood, weight bearing down on one leg while his system rapidly adjusted in the background to compensate for every minor change in equilibrium.

“Tall ass,” Jenn muttered in regard to the ease at which Sun could simply do things because of his build being lengthy and mostly leg.

“Huh?”

Staring at him as he found his footing, Jenn repeated, “Tall,” while pointing, a playful pout indicating she was teasing.

“Oh.” Looking down from his new spot, Sun rubbed his neck. “I am, aren’t I?”

“Just a lot. Lucky.”

Chuckling faintly at what he assumed was a compliment of some kind, Sun watched Jenn adjust her center of gravity before taking a wide step onto another spinning plate; it also twitched slightly, pulling her off balance and threatening to toss her to the ground. Thinking quick, the gold bot’s hand whipped out, grabbing onto her forearm. As he did, his own sense of balance twisted out from under him, forcing the lanky dancer to step against the edge of a different dais to keep himself from tumbling with her. It was for nothing, though, as Jenn had only wobbled a bit and recovered herself, face pinched in a look of pure confusion.

“Can I help you?” she wondered cautiously, staring him down with a bright glint in her eyes.

Squeaking, Sun let her go and stood upright, hands tucked to his collar protectively. “S-sorry! I thought you were going to fall!”

Blue stared down teal as Jenn studied him intensely for a moment, still confused but not commenting further as she placed her focus back on the collection of hazardous steps around them. One by one she stepped, hopped or strode across them, sometimes spinning to keep her balance; unsure what that look had been for, Sun followed, vaguely imitating her stance where needed as he picked apart the ways the different steps turned or shook under his weight. Distracted as he was by trying not to fall, it wasn’t until he’d reached the edge of the ‘stepping stones’, as he decided to call them, that Jenn’s presence was notably lacking. Turning once about-face, there was no sign she’d taken a turn back to the center without him noticing.

A metallic smack drew his focus around and up–-Jenn had climbed onto the next structure that was still partially overgrown at its base, her hands firmly grasping one of a series of long metal pipes that stretched the gap between one side of the unit and the other. Swinging forward, she reached for the next bar, making a similar sound as the impact reverberated through the structure. Again, but a more tinny bang as her false arm hit the pipe. Again–-her body swayed side-to-side, picking up speed as she walked herself across the rails using her legs to generate momentum to make the next grab.

At the halfway point of her climb, Sun hoisted himself up from the stones using the metal pegs lining the support beams and peered down, his HUD giving him an estimation of about twelve feet from there to the ground which was still overgrown with trusslin. Plenty of space for him, to his surprise, but far less of a falling hazard to himself compared to Jenn-–it was with a sharp bit of realization that he truly understood why this area was left untrimmed and why something like trusslin had even been placed in the first place. This was no kids’ playground of colorful plastic and metal with padding or wood chips underneath; standing at just over seven feet himself, finding human-sized things that he could use was a bit of a dice roll at times, but this equipment wasn’t built to accommodate four-foot-something children or even six-and-some-odd-inch adults like a normal playground.

Grabbing hold of the first bar, Sun watched Jenn dismount with a graceful arc onto a platform secured at the end of the bars roughly nine feet off the ground, barely making a sound as her feet hit the wood; she turned to him, waiting with her arms crossed. There’s no way this is made for robots, that doesn't make sense, he told himself while swinging down-–gravity took hold with a suddenness he hadn’t prepared for, making him fearful of letting go as he swung forward, then back, grip straining against his mass as it was pulled down by invisible force.

Skilled as she was, Jenn couldn't be immune to gravity or falling, even if she seemed to ignore it with ease. Alerts and warnings flooded Sun’s vision, cautioning him against a fall and estimating damage if he landed incorrectly–-now knowing that he was sturdy enough to survive what should have been a lethal height, the estimates were taken with a grain of salt yet if he could possibly get hurt by dropping and landing incorrectly, the risk to Jenn was far greater. He was metal and springs and bolts--she was flesh and bone, the things that made organics infamous for being squishy and fragile; a bad fall from double her height could be disastrous. What had she said?

“I’ve avoided a few broken bones.”

The next section beyond this one was higher than the bars. This became acutely noticeable as Sun looked up from his hanging position to the structure attached to the platform Jenn waited for him on, fully overgrown across its lower reaches but easily double the height of–-no, wait, only by about half more, according to his HUD’s estimate–-nearly twenty feet off the ground. Knowing she was waiting, the golden bot began to swing,  taking a bit of effort to find a rhythm to cross the bars as his lengthy body was a tad unwieldy when swinging if he wasn’t careful. The landing wasn’t quite as graceful as he’d liked, having to tuck his legs in to clear the edge of the platform, but nothing a few rounds of practice wouldn’t fix–-that would be for later though. Sun was too concerned by his observations to think about practicing.

“Jenn?” he asked as she turned from him, grabbing onto the pegs that would carry them up to the next area. Pausing, the human glanced at him expectantly. “How… how often do you use this equipment?” Sounding nonchalant was proving difficult, a tight grin only serving to make him appear more stressed than he wanted.

“All the time.”

He’d been afraid of that answer.

“Just didn’t get to it this time around after getting home.” Looking upward, she bounced and took hold of a peg, beginning to climb. “Don’t let the weeds fool you, it’ll be grown over again in a couple weeks, just you wait. I promise it’s all in good condition.”

Waiting his turn at the bottom of the ladder, a worrisome twist churned his insides. “Um, no, I-I believe that.”

“Then what’s bugging you?”

Would it be insulting to point out how insanely dangerous this whole thing is? Probably. It wasn’t his place to tell her she was risking her health when she wasn’t his to care for… yet confirmation that Jenn was regularly meandering around and climbing on rough-built exercise equipment alone using only plants as a safety guard set off his care programming whether he wanted it to or not. “I… you… do this alone? Every time?”

Reaching the top and hopping onto the edge, Jenn turned and looked down, waiting for him. “Yeah?”

Why are you so calm about that??

“It’s not like Twii and Laa need exercise and Ruk has no thumbs.”

That’s not what I’m worried about!

“And, well… you’ve seen I don’t exactly keep company that often.”

Slowly, Sun hoisted himself up each rung of the pin ladder, not needing nearly as many holds as Jenn did due once more to his height making up most of the distance for him. “I… Forgive me if I’m blunt but isn’t that dangerous?”

She stared a moment, head tilting slightly before answering, “I guess so? That’s why I planted the trusslin.”

“No, I…” At the top, Jenn hobbled to the side to give him clearance to get over the lip of the structure; vertigo washed over him as he caught a glimpse of the ground, voice draining away to a faint whine. Alerts blared caution in his head about the hazards of being so high up, unsecured.

“You good, bright eyes?”

Stiff as a board, Sun turned to see Jenn crouched on the balls of her feet on the beam that was barely wide enough to do so, totally at ease. “W-w-we–this is–it’s very high!” It took focus but he found a way to sit on the small stretch of wood in the least risky way possible for himself.

“Yep.”

“How-–how are you so calm?? Don’t you know if you fall you could…” He hesitated a moment, changing his word choice. “... get hurt??”

“I know.” Standing suddenly made Sun yelp but Jenn’s movements had taken on a smooth gait that felt completely different to moments before on the spinning stones. It was as if being higher up made her more confident somehow. Even the gentle breeze that flowed over the trees didn’t sway her as she walked over the beam to a wider section; scooting carefully, Sun followed, glad to be on more stable ground even if it was higher than he’d like it to be. “I can’t really afford to not have it though. Keeping myself sharp and fit is necessary in my line of work.”

Unprepared for her to continue, Sun hiccuped, “Huh?” as he sat up, avoiding sight of the ground until he’d adjusted for aerial performance. That finicky program was very particular about the conditions needed to auto-run so he opted to manually process it before the vertigo came back. “Your… line of work?”

“Yeah, I have a job.” A light, dry laugh stopped short as she realized he genuinely didn’t know that. It hadn’t come up yet. “Did you think I just lived out here and did whatever every day?”

“Ah… maybe?”

Rubbing her cheek, she nodded, relenting. “Actually, that’s fair, I guess. Yes, I have a job, and it's very hard on the body at times so I need to stay in shape.”

“I…” Sun scratched his jaw. “I’m sorry, I didn’t notice you doing anything, I just assumed…”

She laughed again, dry and low. “It’s not an everyday job. I actually just got back from it about a day before you two popped in so no, you haven't seen me working.”

“Oh!” His brow furrowed. What job needs this kind of physical demand? Part of him wanted to ask, but a greater part was afraid to know if it made her so nonplussed about her own safety.

“Let me guess.”

His eyes flashed to hers, which were almost shining in the light of the sky, bringing out the brilliant tones of cyan in her irises–-it was the first moment Sun genuinely realized how vibrant her eye color was. It was very beautiful, but eerie as well at how unnatural it felt at that moment.

“You’re concerned because if I fell and got seriously injured, no one would be around to help me.”

That absolutely was what he felt, but focusing was not on his mind at the moment. Not on her words, in any case.

High up as they were, they didn’t clear the canopy but it opened their field of view enough that the sky stretched nearly from horizon to horizon in all directions, glinting and shining with the yellow aurora he’d seen so many times through the windows of the estate house. Brilliant, shining blue eyes had riveted his attention for some seconds before Sun was able to drift free, caught in how the yellow light cast a shadow on Jenn’s face that only emphasized the unearthly glow her eyes had–-well, that he thought they had at least, given how richly colored they were. Her hair, dyed a deep blue at the ends but grown in at the root into its natural ash blonde, took on an array of colors from gold to brown under the aurora’s glow, even tinting green in a way that didn’t seem natural at first. From these faux colored locks, his gaze followed the light into the sky itself behind her head, drawing into the mass of clouds that scattered the aurora’s light to every corner that engulfed Azil’s sky in semi-permanent cover.

The aurora wasn’t new. From his room, Sun had seen it almost every day: a bright array of light through the single window he had, accompanied by the smallest sliver of Uls in the corner. It was the same aurora now, yet out here he felt for the first time he was really seeing it–-how the edges turned green or sometimes pink as the light twisted around itself, dancing a bizarre, rhythmless dance only it knew the steps to. Within city walls and narrow streets, it was hard to imagine just how big it was, but out here…

Snap snap.

Jolting back to reality, Sun blinked, focusing on the fingers in front of his face. “Sorry??” he blurted reflectively, embarrassed he’d zoned out so hard out of nowhere.

Blue eyes stared back at him with concern; there was no glow in them.

Of course not, that’d be silly.

“Do you want to watch the aurora or keep going?” Though she sounded annoyed, her gaze was gentle–-he thought so, anyway.

“We can… we can keep going, I’m sorry. I’ve…” Words were becoming more and more difficult lately as Sun realized he lacked the right ones to explain himself properly anymore.

Sitting back, Jenn looked up at the sky, a faint smile on her lips that put him at ease. “It’s different when you can see the whole sky, isn’t it?”

A smile of his own crossed his face, relieved she understood what he was feeling despite being unable to say it the way he wanted. “It very much is.” Standing, Jenn offered her hand, pulling the golden robot to his feet despite his hesitation at the act. After what she’d said about fitness, it shouldn’t have shocked him that she was stronger than she looked but nevertheless he was still a bit impressed that she didn’t struggle as much as he’d expected given he was nearly double her weight. Without meaning to, he said as much aloud before clamping a hand to his mouth.

Thankfully, she didn’t seem upset about his wayward comment. “Just wait, you haven’t seen anything yet!” Motioning behind her to the open area of the structure, Jenn half-skipped to the edge, seeming delighted. “I’m much better at swinging than I am at strength tests!”

Now that his aerial programming was in effect, the vertigo was negated, allowing Sun to peer down to the tangled underbrush below without feeling dizzy or unbalanced. They were very high, that much he knew, but unlike the bars this area didn’t have a coherent connecting point between parts. Arches tall as trees with metal pipes running across them stood at attention in random spots, towering over the other equipment like sentinels. Some of them had ropes or additional bars at the half or three-quarters mark but they were nowhere near each other to grab onto easily; at the far end of the clearing was a taller pillar bolted into a tree with an arm that hung over an empty spot but nothing attached to it. It felt unfinished to him, like something was supposed to be there.

Familiarity came first as he understood what the bars were for.

Behind it was fear.

“This is my favorite part to use.” Jenn’s voice echoed in his head as if she were far away, her body moving in slow motion to him as she kicked off the platform, arms extended.

Nothing came out of his mouth when he tried to call out, his own body too slow to stop her until she was already over the edge.

Sun’s knees hit the platform as he tumbled forward, missing her by a hair with everything screaming DANGER at him; Jenn’s hands hit a bar that had been out of sight from their vantage point, just far enough forward that she didn’t slam into it with her head or chest. With the ease of many years of practice, the human swung, the pipe turning in its socket to send her forward and up; she let go, sailing into the air like a leaf on the wind. He gawked, half awestruck and half terrified he was about to witness a tragedy–-Sun’s HUD frantically pinged with estimations as he tracked Jenn’s gymnastics through the open air.

Toes pointed, the human managed a fluid flip as she came down to the next bar, grabbing on and carrying herself around it without a care in the world. Once–-twice–-she spun on the bar before launching again, flinging herself upward to a higher bracket; a rope dangled from the center, only about ten feet in length. Nowhere near the ground.

To his horror, Jenn didn’t make it to the bar–-thank Azil the rope was there! With a creak, she grabbed hold of the end of the safety rope, swinging wildly while climbing her way up to the top with barely a moment of hesitation. Once she was at the peak of the rung, she waved, perched once again on the balls of her feet.

Releasing a held breath, Sun shouted, “ARE YOU ALRIGHT????” as he had nothing else he could manage without growing hysteric.

After a moment, she called back, “I’m fine! C’mon!”

Nope.

Nope, no, absolutely not!

Making a large X with his arms, Sun declined. “I’m okay right now! I… I’m going back to the wobbly things!” He turned to scoot his way back down the ladder.

“Okay! I’ll join you!”

Freezing, Sun’s brain fired off an, “Oh no,” as it assumed what her way down entailed. To his great relief, instead of jumping into the grass, he whipped around in time to see Jenn slide down the pillar making up one leg of the structure, moving as if hand holds were placed along it that he couldn’t make out from that distance. “Oh, thank Azil…” he huffed, slumping down for a moment with pure relief. After composing himself, the golden worrywart was able to make his way down, meeting the squishy human at the edge of the hazard plates; unable to help himself, he took hold of her elbows, speaking quickly while giving her a multi-pass look over. “What were you doing?? That was insane! What would you have done if you’d missed a bar?? I know those leaves are soft but a fall like that–”

Stunned for a moment by the sudden contact, Jenn’s hands moved out of reflex to protect herself, turning over to break his grip and shove his own away–-she stopped at holding one palm to his face, fingers pointing in a way that warned him about his eyes and nose being vulnerable targets. Had he been human that is. Her other hand was tucked against her side, cuffed and waiting in a striking position; it settled quickly, a fraction of a minute, as she snapped out of her automatic self-defense and took a step back.

Occasionally sparring with Moon was paying off it seemed, as he recognized motions as being defensive in nature, though Sun wasn’t very happy to know he’d triggered a fight response by being overbearing. Hands snapping away, he also took a half step back to disengage, eyes wide. “I’m sorry!” The apology tumbled out with the same frantic tone as his worries. “I didn’t mean to touch you! I–I was worried, I–”

Expression changing from blank shock to confusion, Jenn snapped, “Why?” cutting off his fumbling apology.

“Why…?”

“I do this all the time,” she reiterated, forcing her body to relax fully. “I train to do this. Did you not hear me?”

“No, I…” Taking a steadying breath, Sun brought his voice under some amount of control. “I did, I just didn’t know what that… entailed. Seeing you just… walk off the edge of a platform that high… that’s not something I see people do. I got scared.”

“No, I understand that.”

He was more confused now.

“Why do you care?”

“Huh?”

Eyes flicking up and down him with a wary glint, she shuffled her footing, seeming almost uncomfortable at the idea. “You don’t know me, we are not friends. If I got hurt, you could just take my house and live your life.”

Sun was appalled.

“Why do you care if I fall and get hurt?”

Voice fractured with concern, Sun clipped out, “You’re a human?? ”

“And?”

“And?? What and?? Beyond the fact my base programming is literally made to ensure the happiness and wellbeing of the humans around me?? Because isn’t that what people do?? Keep each other safe??” More and more, Sun’s voice was getting away from him, rising and straining with the desire to fracture under his barely contained stress. That isn’t how he wanted to crack–-he didn’t want to crack at all!

This seemed to shake loose the stiff posture Jenn had been holding herself in as she realized the tall robot was genuinely beginning to break down into a panic attack. What do I do-–shekt! Stepping forward, Jenn tried to reach toward Sun but he flinched back, causing her to freeze. “Hey!” she barked loudly, managing to shake him from the spiral with the sudden sound. “I-–I’m fine, right?” Placing a hand over her chest, Jenn tried again to reach out. “I’m alright. And… you’re right, I should… be more careful. I just can’t be. I have a high-risk job, so I don’t get to wait for help. I’m sorry if that’s not what you want to hear, but I’ve survived like this for years. I’m fine.”

HUD flashing a collection of warnings, Sun focused on the hand nearing him–-five fingers--the color of the grass--green-–gazing up slightly, he saw the blue of Jenn’s irises once again. Bright blue.

Soft.

A warm hand touched his chest, gentle and slow, the pressure giving him a place to focus on that wasn’t within his own chaotic mind. Peering down between himself and her worried expression, Sun saw the light flashing under his shirt and that Jenn’s gaze was drawn to it; intended as an aesthetic feature, the feature built into his chest had more than once gotten him in trouble for being distracting. In some effort to imitate a human heartbeat, Sun’s makers installed a frosted panel on his left pectoral shaped like a stylized heart and made to glow in time to his system pulse whenever he felt strong emotions. Unfortunately for him, it wasn’t consistent, often flaring up when it wasn’t supposed to–-when he was uncomfortable, in most cases.

And afraid.

It was that inconsistency that forced them to deactivate the command when they first caught a break in their escape effort. “A high risk of blowing our cover,” as Moon put it–-and Sun obeyed–-but it hadn’t activated before now, even after Jenn rebooted them. So why now ? There was no way to know at the moment why it chose now to make itself known, but it did serve to keep him focused on something long enough for his exhaust cycle to correct itself, forcing a sense of calm to blanket his system.

The light had been unexpected, drawing Jenn’s focus despite her best effort to stay on task to calm the panicking robot; she’d seen the panel and known what it was for during diagnostics, however it hadn’t been used until now. Whichever series of circumstances needed to activate it weren’t something she’d looked into, but now it was clear it at least responded to distress. Intense distress. Both of them seemed drawn to the waning and growing pulse of white light, measuring it as it slowed and faded to a reasonable level before fully going dark.

Grateful he’d been spared from a full meltdown by happenstance, Sun exhaled slowly and steadily, laying his hand over Jenn’s carefully to not trigger another defensive reaction. That was all the farther he got, however, before she beat him to the apology. “I’m sorry.” Just as gently, her other hand covered his as if trying to reassure him she was truly alright.

“You don’t need to–”

A sharp glint as her eyes snapped to his stopped him cold. “I will not apologize for what I did because I will do it again, but I am going to apologize for not warning you better.” She took a moment to relax her expression a bit when it grew stern. “I’ve gotten used to the kinds of people who do this sort of stuff as well, they don’t bat an eye at playground equipment like this.”

Calling these giant thingamajigs ‘playground equipment’ was not something he agreed on, but he kept that to himself.

“I also apologize for not considering you might be afraid of heights–”

This time, Sun was able to cut her off, nearly laughing at the odd conclusion. “I’m not afraid of heights! I was afraid of you falling!”

Pulling her hand away, Jenn folded her arms. “I still don’t know why you’d bother but… well, it’s good you don’t have issues being up high. Whenever you get on your way, you’ll want to be prepared for climbing things.”

The reminder of departing threatened to bring the stress back to the surface if he didn’t distract himself quickly. “Actually!” Pointing to the empty overhang, Sun scrambled for anything to keep from thinking of the future ahead of them. “I was going to ask what that was for! I can’t tell what it is.”

Following his finger, Jenn ‘hm’ed before answering. “It was supposed to be a long climbing rope but I never got around to finishing the actual rope part.”

“So you can hang something from it safely?”

“Yep. Everything here might look questionable but it was built by a friend of mine with engineering experience so it’s up to par.”

It took all his effort to keep his question to himself about her admitting to having friends somewhere. “Is… there any chance maybe we could tie something up there…?” Curious, Jenn tilted her head again; he likened this expression to a confused animal. Sun tapped the tips of his forefingers together. “I really like silk dancing, it’s… relaxing. I figured it might also help me with my …” Gesturing to himself loosely, the golden bot struggled to find the right way to ask this favor, already prepared to be denied. “... this balance issue. But if not–”

Jenn shrugged. “Yeah, sure.”

Sun fumbled a bit at the end, unprepared for her approval. There was no sensible way to respond he could come up with other than, “Ah… thank you!”

“I’ve got some leftover fabric at the house, can you sew? I’m sure if you fasten the ends together it’ll hold up pretty well.”

It was never so easy to get a request approved of at the estate, especially the first time it was asked. A flicker of elation coursed through his circuits, a soft pulse of light following suit. “I can, yes!”

“C’mon, then.” Waving him after her, Jenn turned and began the trek back to the house.

As they cleared the wobbling stones and reached the tree line, Sun caught the motion of Jenn untying her skirt, then rubbing her lower back closest to her tailbone. Fearing she actually was hurt from her ‘exercise’, he reflexively inquired, “Are you alright?” hoping it was nothing too worrisome.

“Yeah, I’m fine, just wishing I had a tail.”

“... excuse me?”

Truly, she was a baffling human.

~

“Ee!”

The little pink thing sat on the rail, crouched and ready to spring at him at a moment’s notice. Moon stared it down, faintly amused but mostly inconvenienced by the sudden appearance of Twii. After satisfying the ‘pet me’ quota for both the avian, Aquila, and the canine, Rukbat–-who’d charged up the steps the moment he saw the bird getting attention from the blue robot-–Moon left the roosting platform with the intention to go inside. This meant coming back to the junction of doors that had vexed him previously; on the left, the unlocked kitchen, on the right, the mystery door that the canine had managed to slip into when he’d walked away last.

For a moment, he’d debated trying his hand at getting in again, but to his own surprise it was dismissed faster than it had come up. Was there truly a reason to go prying into the human’s personal business beyond his own unjustified paranoia? Paranoia that was being proven to be ridiculous again and again.

No.

There was no real reason. Perhaps he’d try this ‘benefit of the doubt’ thing the human-–Jenn-–mentioned. Starting by using their names, at least.

It was not a canine–-he was Rukbat.

It was not a bird–-she was Aquila.

The human was Jenn.

The blots of color–

No sooner had he thought of them, Moon felt something smack into his head with a chirp, dragging him from his thoughts. Moving quickly, he took hold of the bundle on his head and brought it into view, not expecting to see the pink pocket computer kicking against his grip and squeaking at him defiantly. “What the halt–”

A tug on his shirt collar made him spin, losing his grasp on the small robot so she could get away. Turning back, Moon saw the pink blur land on the handrail, tail held up to enforce the authority of the chirp she gave him. Scowling, he folded his arms. “Do we have a problem?”

“Ee!”

Whatever that meant, he couldn’t comprehend. Most of him didn’t care to figure it out either. Huffing, the dark robot spoke, more so to fill the silence than to willfully engage in one-sided conversation. “I commend your effort at protecting your owner’s privacy but I don’t think it’ll work as well as you think it does.”

Twii hopped forward once, the end of her tail pulsing. “Ee–eeee! E!”

“Look, I’m not actually trying to break in this time, so–”

Overhead, a different squeak interrupted him, pulling his attention up. Head poking out over the edge of the roof, Laa peeped sternly, “Aa.”

Well, that explains what yanked on me. Looking between the pair for any sign of what they were trying to accomplish, Moon imitated the purple blur with rhetorical flatness, “Ah?”

Laa’s gaze narrowed at him. “A.”

What’s that look for? Did I say something offensive?

“Eeeee…!”

Turning again, Moon’s brows shot up–-Twii clung onto the rail for dear life, little arms wrapped as far around the rail as she could get them, unable to find purchase for her feet on the smooth metal. Quickly but gently, the blue dancer leaned over and cupped his hand, scooping the small bot up before she could fall. Sluggishly, Twii curled into his palm, the end of her tail pulsing weakly; as he observed her with growing worry, her facial screen blinked to a red bar. “Your battery!” he blurted, realizing sharply she hadn’t attacked him, she’d fallen when her magnetic lifting function shut off!

“A.” Laa floated down from the roof, her expression only reading as ‘finally’.

“Where’s your charging dock?” Moon inquired, holding the pink companion protectively against his chest.

Laa pointed toward the kitchen door with a quiet, “A,” before zipping toward it. Following quickly, Moon tailed the small unit through the kitchen, down the hall and into the lounge; Laa banked left at the entryway, stopping over a small end table with a circular charging dock in the middle tucked into the corner of the narrow room. How he never noticed it before now was beyond him, but at least it wasn’t locked behind the impassable doors that continued to taunt him. Ever so carefully, Moon placed the pink twin on the dock, nudging her tail into place so all of her was in contact with the transfer pad; the dock lit up with blue-white light, the red bar flashing on Twii’s face switching to a white indicator the second after.

A breath escaped him as relief filled his system; had he really been stressing over a recharge? Shaking his head at his own odd behavior, Moon’s eyes found and followed Laa as she approached her sister, sitting patiently without climbing onto the dock directly. She felt his gaze and looked up at him, unreadable as always.

“A.”

“You’re welcome.” With nothing else to do, Moon began to rifle through one of the many piles of notes that filled the corners of Jenn’s house, trying to find something worth reading. “I don’t suppose you know what was in that big binder she was looking for, do you?”

He didn’t expect an answer he could understand, only hearing another, “Aa,” that meant nothing to him.

The stapled pamphlet in his hands had a timestamp in the corner from roughly three months ago; the rest of it was a series of figures and formulas regarding an aurora anomaly that he barely understood at a glance. Putting it back, Moon paced around in a small circle. What were we even doing three months ago…? he wondered, attention continually returning to the recharging Stardust when his thoughts slowed.

Three months felt more like three years.

There was no other way to really explain the sensation as he combed through the memory files that weren’t lost or locked away; even though he knew what the passage of time felt like and could measure it using Adir Standard Intervals, there was a lingering disconnect between fact and feeling that he struggled to reconcile. More and more Moon felt a wall building between himself and the outside world. At first it was barely noticeable, done with such insidious slowness that only by looking back could he feel a marked difference in not only his own behavior, but how he related to things around him. To people.

To his own brother.

Three months ago, the two of them still found quiet solace in the garden, enjoying the scant hours they were allowed outside without supervision. Observe the flowers, but never pick them. Enjoy the cygnus birds, but never disturb them. Walk the designated path, never cut across the grass–-they only made that mistake once.

Afterward, Sun was so terrified to deviate from the sidewalk, he’d stopped walking through the yard altogether. Only because of their Lock was Moon able to prevent him from gaining a phobia of grass entirely with how distraught he was once they were reunited–-not that it was new by that point. Moon himself was well aware that their owner was not a kind woman no matter how she tried to portray herself to the public. Purely by the power of his own denial, Sun bought into her kind words–-though that may have been out of self-preservation, thinking back on it. The grass incident was the tipping point, Moon felt, for his brother developing fear of that woman in place of affection or devotion. The excuses had stopped, their disagreements about fairness turned into mutual understanding, but the outdoors had lost its appeal.

It’s not like they ever left the garden anyway.

Now, though, Moon understood better what they were missing out on–-what had been denied them this entire time by that woman’s obsessive desire to smother them. Even that behavior was beginning to make sense to him in hindsight, much as he detested the idea of understanding that vile woman; she was trying to keep them naive, dependent and, this being merely speculation on his part, Moon had a worry that Vissara had been trying to condition them–-or at least Sun–-into being afraid to go outside altogether.

If Sun refused to go outdoors out of fear of stepping on the grass, then Moon wouldn’t go either.

Thankfully, their bond was stronger than Vissara’s manipulation.

However, it was not strong enough to prevent his own mental state from degrading. Disliking his owner was something Moon had within him from nearly the beginning, despite that being considered odd. Something in her mannerisms and behaviors simply didn’t sit right, but the dislike didn’t truly set in until he noticed how restrictive she was. How fixated she was on Sun and on keeping his attention on herself. How she didn't care that those actions were actively harming them both--how much of his own distress he chose to hide from her to avoid making it worse on them.

It turned out he had every reason to despise her.

But now, they were free. Mostly.

Free to travel, to learn, to do whatever they wished–-assuming his dear brother didn’t get attached to the first human showing them common decency. Not that Moon could blame him really, it was literally programmed into their core identity to seek out human company and attempt to fulfill their wishes. To care for them. Please them. Earn their approval.

Yet it still baffled him that his brother didn’t just ignore that urge like he did. He’d long given up that argument as simply being Sun’s nature.

At least it was up until three months ago–

The nagging sensation surged forward from the depths of his mind, bowling over any thoughts currently meandering through his processes to blanket everything with a haze that demanded attention while smothering any attempt to pull free. Three.

Three.

Three months ago, he and Sun would sit in the garden.

He and Sun.

Three weeks ago, he and Sun were preparing–

Error.

–preparing?

Three weeks.

Three–

Moon’s head throbbed painfully as memories attempted to open but couldn’t.

Preparing…

He and Sun.

He… and Sun.

Sun.

Sun.

ERROR.

/MEMORY FILE INACCESSIBLE/

>Reboot?

No!

Light flooded over Moon’s circuits, his pulse points flashing–-everything hurt.

Sun?

What about Sun?

>Reboot?

“NO!”

The sound of his own voice ripped him out of his mental frenzy, bringing Moon back to the moment; everything spun and wobbled, felt wrong.

A dull roar filled the room, as if--

“... Why am I underwater…?”

Roiling around the dark dancer was a bubble, the light of his pulse casting a glimmer through the surface that made him think of stardust in the Sky-Beyond-the-Sky. But it shouldn’t be there! Taking a few breaths to force his system to regulate, Moon tried to recall the water, dismissing it from the room. It was a struggle for a moment. Hopefully nothing was damaged.

“That… isn’t normal,” he told himself, rubbing a hand over his face once everything settled.

“A.”

Turning, Moon caught the unimpressed eye of Laa watching him from the table. A tired chuckle escaped him. “You saw that, didn’t you?”

“Aa-a,” the small computer replied.

“I’m taking that as a yes.”

Laa slow blinked at him.

“Let’s not tell your mom I nearly ruined her upholstery, alright?”

“Aa.”

Chapter Text

“You were playing by the tower again weren't you?”

A steaming cup of kefin rested on the counter for a moment before being picked up and brought to the frowning mouth of Jenn, the vapor swaying as she blew on the surface before taking a wary sip. Her focus was riveted to the corner of the table which had been cleared of debris to allow the pair of twin computers to sit comfortably, their heads bowed with guilt at her accusation. From a distance, all of it was rather amusing to the observer seated at his spot at the other end of the kitchen, propped on one hand in an effort to ease and hide his still-aching head.

Moon had been caught unaware the moment Laa flew off without warning after he’d managed to restack the notes he’d knocked over when his hydrokinesis triggered–-everything was dry at least, leaving no trace of his episode. Little Twii was still charging, appearing asleep, so it felt odd her bonded pair would leave unprompted. It became clear when the dark blur returned shortly after, Jenn’s footsteps thudding in pursuit. Had it not been for his reflexes dragging him back from the doorway, they would have collided, and that was the last thing he wanted to deal with.

Now that Twii was charged enough to function, they were gathered in the kitchen, getting scolded for recklessness for something they clearly knew better about. Only Sun was absent for this ‘talk’, having been given a large bolt of material he wanted to take back to the exercise equipment for reasons Moon didn’t have the energy to fathom, leaving only himself to observe the goings-on of this bizarre family. The reassurance that nothing terrible was going to happen after seeing how she dealt with Rukbat’s disobedience was the only thing keeping him from trying to interfere in their favor.

Jenn took a deep, loud drink from her mug. “I’ve told you how many times now?” One of them squeaked, though which one wasn’t obvious to him. “Mm-hm. Every few months with you two, I have to remind you to stay away from the tower when it’s online. I know you know it drains power when you get too close to the generator, but clearly you don’t listen when I tell you. You’re lucky he was there to help.” Blue eyes flashed to him; the twins peered in his direction. “Did you say thank you?”

A chorus of cheeping followed her question.

He took this to be gratitude and nodded at them despite his head throbbing and a tickle running up his back. Reaching behind himself, Moon brushed his nape down to the spot between his shoulders, finding something stringy tucked into the hem of his shirt. Pinching it between his fingers and pulling, he wasn’t prepared for a long piece of grass to be the culprit. Must be from trimming, he figured, laying the wayward foliage on the table. Turning his focus back to the twins and their dressing down, he found them watching him curiously. “Yes?”

“You good?” Jenn asked, glancing at the grass on the table for a second.

“Just a tickle,” he assured, face tinting purple from embarrassment.

Switching back to the twins, Jenn took another long sip of kefin. “I don’t want to have to keep having this talk. That tower is held together by glue, wishes and spite. You two know the retainment field isn’t that great so it’ll draw power from anything near the turbine. You’re lucky you had enough charge to get away and that someone was around to help. Don’t do it again.”

At that, the pair floated off into the rafters, leaving Jenn to her cup of liquid caffeine and Moon to ignore the fact the tickle was persisting somewhere further down than his hemline.

“How many of those have you had?” he wondered, nodding toward the cup in her hands to distract himself from rummaging for more grass in his clothes.

“Like, today or…?”

His brow furrowed. “That’s not good for you, you know.”

“I didn’t say a number.”

“Which means you’ve had more than one.”

She sipped loudly, making defiant eye contact with him.

He grimaced a bit, the tickle distracting him from rebuttal by making his shoulder twitch.

Jenn noticed this, putting her cup down. “You sure you’re good?”

Another twitch he couldn’t hide cut him off before he could answer. “I…” Trying to shake loose whatever was touching him and failing, Moon grunted with defeat. “I guess not.” Giving up on subtlety, he reached under his shirt, running his fingers across his back–

–nothing.

“Sit still. Let me see.” Coming up behind the uncomfortable bot, Jenn placed a hand on his shoulder in an effort to assure him she wasn’t up to anything nefarious. Though he wanted to protest, Moon waited to see if she could find the little nuisance giving him grief in the hope of being done with it and able to move on to other things such as dinner plans. An idea had come to mind he wanted to ask about but deigned to wait his turn until Jenn, having excused herself from returning to her adult playground by way of being tired, finished chastising her tiny computer companions. Once again, the darker brother was appreciative of, yet surprised by, her method of discipline and willingness to permit deviation and mischief without seeking to correct it at the source.

A bit suddenly, Moon felt his shirt lift up, bunching at his shoulders and leaving his back exposed; soft fingers traced down the seams of his shell, eliciting what almost felt like a chill from his surface sensors. Scraping and picking at spots of dirt he’d expected–-despite their supposed value, the technicians brought it to clean and care for them weren’t exactly considerate of their comfort or tolerance for certain types of physical touch-–but this was… unexpectedly nice. The roughest sensation was the feeling of her nail sliding along his spinal seam, accompanied by a thoughtful hum before she moved away.

“Looks like you’ve got some grassy bits stuck where it shouldn’t be. Hang tight, I’ve got something for that.”

Ah. The rough part hadn’t happened yet.

Moon adjusted his seat silently, facing himself backwards with arms folded to cradle his head against the backrest; a very faint sigh left him as he resigned himself to his fate to eliminate the persistent tickle once and for all. Jenn disappeared and reappeared quickly, carrying a tote box the size of a bread loaf that she placed on the table, first pulling out a bristled hand brush followed by an instrument that resembled a hook-ended needle with a fat, wooden handle perfect for the palm to apply force with.

This gave him some concern. “What’re–”

Not giving him a chance to voice his worry, Jenn returned to his blindspot and placed her knee at the edge of his seat, accidentally brushing his tailbone with her knee which made him tense again. Misreading his reaction, Jenn’s hand returned to his back to reassure the twitchy bot he was safe, being mindful to be soft and careful. “I’m not going to hurt you,” she spoke in a soothing tone. “Just relax.”

Being told to do so didn’t make it any easier as he knew only to brace for discomfort when being cleaned. First came the brush’s bristles–Moon waited tensely for the scratching and prickling to agitate his sensors, but what came instead felt more like a gentle cloth rubbing back and forth between his shoulders, working its way down in long, steady strokes. Next, focused pressure in small areas–-the chair creaked as Jenn leaned into it a bit, tracing the edges of his panels with the soft pads of her fingertips. The tingle returned, running through his system like warm water easing away his tension and the throbbing of his head as he sat, still waiting for something to hurt or poke him.

Jenn was careful, though, even while distracted. From the outset the human thought both brothers were beautifully crafted and designed, but taking the time to really appreciate the detail work hadn’t occurred to her as repairs couldn’t afford to be compromised by distracted ogling. Now, though, she could really take in the finer details–-the laser etched trim and sanded embossing work that made some parts of them shimmer in the right lighting. Clearly they were a labor of love for whomever put the effort in, even though that didn’t really make sense given what she’d learned about them.

Either they were repurposed or their maker really wanted to push the Goldlight quality to be believable under intense scrutiny.

Jenn held her breath in fear of marring the intricate work just by breathing too hard on it, the fine textures shallow to the point of smooth when touched–though they were much sturdier than they should be, figuring out the upper limit of their alloy wasn’t on her list of things she wanted answers for. Nor was it a good excuse to be sloppy. It took a bit of her willpower to return to her task, glad Moon couldn’t see her face redden from embarrassment. ‘A sucker for a well-built robot,’ she’d been told more than once by others who’d caught on to her inclination for “studying and admiring” synthetics-–to the point of distraction at times. Although it happened on occasion with kitchenware and weaponry for the same reasons, it was only ever acknowledged when the subject of her attention happened to be capable of noticing and pointing it out.

I can’t help that I like to admire art, she insisted, though her own mental voice sounded more like she was chastising herself.

Slowly and with great care, the hook was drawn through the hairline seams of the Moondrop’s shell, removing bits of grass and dirt that had gotten stuck, either from trimming or when he fell into the shrubbery. I should probably check the other one later, she noted to herself, turning the hooked awl side to side carefully to dislodge the bits tucked where the lateral plates met, forming the spinal division line. Once in a while, he would twitch, either between brushings or when the awl was moved to a new area. “Am I hurting you?” she asked the first time only to be met with a distracted grunt. “Am I?”

“No, no, you’re fine,” Moon answered after another moment, seeming to be somewhere else mentally. Continuing the process, Jenn went on her way.

Yellow eyes boring a hole into the tabletop, Moon was grateful she couldn’t see his face change color as he came out of the fog he found himself in from the rhythmic, gentle touch of her hands at his back pushing him into a state of empty-headed relaxation. I completely spaced off, he begrudgingly admitted to himself, now acutely aware of where the awl’s hook was as it went about its merry way across his left side. At least the headache is gone. A faint chuckle kept him from drifting away again, the brush replacing the hook as Jenn dusted the debris off of him completely. “What?”

Hesitating a moment, she hadn’t realized she’d made a sound. “Just thinking.”

Moon did his best to fight the instinct to be suspicious of her dodgy answer. “You’re staring at my back with a tool in hand, I think I get to be curious what you’re thinking about when I can’t see you.”

A tired half-smile he couldn’t see twisted up one side of Jenn’s mouth, her head shaking slowly. “That’s exactly it. I’m just… amused, I guess? That you’re letting me work away at you literally behind your back and you’re not even giving me lip for it.”

Brow furrowed slightly, Moon turned his head just enough to catch her moving at the corner of his eye. “Should I be?”

A strange feeling settled somewhere between Jenn’s heart and her stomach, roiling and hard to ignore. Very gently, she tapped the tip of the hook against his shoulder so it made a metallic ting that got him to stiffen slightly. “Maybe you should be.” She removed the awl from his back, brushing it down with the bristled scrubber. “It would let me know you’re paying attention and not giving me free access to your blindspot.”

A new kind of tension squeezed the coils of Moon’s internal system, raising caution at what she meant. He wouldn’t freely admit he wasn’t paying attention just a moment ago, but her tone held something that he couldn’t decipher as a warning, yet wasn’t quite a threat either. Not a normal one at least. Sitting up more while forming a response, something triggered the surface alert at his spine–a sensation of sharpness where his shoulders met made him freeze.

The hook’s tip pressed into the pressure point where Moon’s back plates met, the human holding herself carefully behind the instrument in such a way that she could shift forward and put her weight behind a jab that would crack between the seams and drive the awl into his wiring without much hassle. Any attempt to move would give her a chance to escape if he wasn’t quick enough, no amount of reach would grant a good angle to seize her–-he was trapped. Throwing himself back would only risk the awl piercing his shell regardless.

Be calm , he told himself, adamantly refusing to let panic overtake him. It took only a breath for that calmness to settle in, allowing his mind to formulate possible plans and rate their success in rapid succession.

“Take this as a bit of well-meaning advice,” Jenn spoke with an even tone, slowly easing back so the pressure of the hook lessened. “Don’t mistake hospitality for trustworthiness. Don’t drop your guard because someone offered you kindness. Never take words at face value.”

Voice hard, Moon couldn't help but comment, “I’m well aware of the last one.”

As suddenly as it started, the odd tension evaporated. Jenn fully relaxed away, the awl dropping from Moon’s shell entirely and taking the moment of bewildering strain with it. Water running, shuffling and curiosity prompted Moon to turn in his seat in an attempt to understand what just transpired between them but he only met Jenn’s displeased frown. Grabbing the back of his head, she turned him back manually, telling him to, “Sit still, I’m almost done,” as he protested.

A warm, wet rag ran the length of his back, confusing Moon further into vocalizing his thoughts. “What was all that?”

“Was what?”

The tone Jenn used told him she knew exactly what he meant. “The hook in my back. The warning. Or was it a threat?”

Jenn ‘hmph’ed while wiping him down meticulously. “I don’t give threats.”

“Then what was the point of that?” A slow, roiling anger was threatening to bubble up if he didn’t get a sufficient answer soon. Somehow, in some way, this human knew how to piss him off in ways he hadn’t thought of on his own.

Slowly, Jenn let out a breath to buy herself a moment to answer properly, her cleaning motions stopping briefly at Moon’s nape; a warm tingle crept across his shoulders that he fought off to keep his focus sharp. “Azil is many things, but ‘perfect’ is far from one of them.”

Head turning slightly again, Moon listened. The stroke of the rag started again and he hated how nice it felt.

“In a perfect world, people would be who they are at first glance, no mind games or meticulous lies padding out their actions to make you think they’re better than they are. You both have barely scratched the surface of what this world holds and your learning curve just got extremely sharp. Maybe I just don’t want you both making the same mistake I did.”

The cleaning finished but left Moon still confused, his anger evaporating as he rationalized her words. Just what did she mean by that? “I think in this case I didn’t have much choice. It’s not like I could have done it myself.”

“I’m sure your partner could.”

The phrasing bothered him. “Sun is my brother.”

“I know.” More shuffling as things were put away, Jenn briefly came into view on his left as she sealed the tote up and took it away. “He’s still a partner though. A companion. Unless you’re planning to go your separate ways–”

“No!” The word jumped out of him before Moon could help himself, earning a faint quirk of the human’s eyebrow. “I–we–”

Waving his fumble off with her hand, Jenn went on, “My point is, he’s the only one you should readily trust out there, and you,” she stepped toward Moon as he turned in his seat to face her, “need to make sure he’s not putting that trust so freely in others when you don’t even know their last name.”

The coiling feeling returned, harsher this time.

They didn’t know her last name.

Though he knew he could take her in a physical fight, Moon felt shamefully small as he was forced to tip his head up slightly to see the face of the human staring him down–if he didn’t know better he’d think her irises were glowing from how intensely she focused on him. Even with this, though, he couldn't detect a sense of hostility coming from her. Only a feeling that she needed him to understand something.

Something she wouldn’t say.

“Don’t let this world take advantage of your naivety, but don’t let it crush your kindness, either.”

Jenn turned away, shattering the moment just as Moon thought he was about to understand what she was saying between the lines. She moved to a cabinet across from him, reaching up to pull down a large bowl with her back to him, silent. Whatever it was that she’d been trying to say, it only made him annoyed–-the cryptic double-speak was bad enough from Vissara! Quickly and with as much silence as he could muster, Moon stood from his seat and took a step across the gap between them, extending his arm to drag her back and make her talk–-

“Think very carefully about what you’re about to do, Moondrop.”

Moon froze instantly, rerunning the last second to determine if he’d made noise or gave away his intentions by mistake-–he hadn’t even gotten close to her back! Adjusting his stance to be less aggressive, he said, “I’m not doing anything.”

Slowly, her head tilted to one side as if listening. “Sorry, then, for the assumption. I don’t like people moving around suddenly behind my back.”

How did she know? he wondered, squeezing his hand into a fist. I was perfectly silent. Was she actually anticipating me to grab her?

“What do you want for dinner?”

Moon’s thoughts ground to a halt. “What?”

Turning toward him, Jenn held up a bowl, seeming confused as if the last moments hadn’t just occurred and set him on edge. “Dinner? Third meal? You know–”

“I know what dinner is!” Snapping hadn’t been his intention, but being mocked while on the back foot from a bizarre conversation didn’t leave him feeling very pleasant. “I… wanted to ask you about that actually. That's why I sat down in the first place.” More and more he felt there was something wrong with this human that he couldn’t place. It was beginning to bother him on a level he didn’t have the energy to unpack.

“Well, that explains that I suppose. I was wondering why you were sitting there for so long. What did you have in mind?”

Whatever had passed between them had been buried already, gone before he could fully sort out the possible meanings of her actions, so Moon determined he’d need to look into it when he had time away from her intense gaze. For now, he focused on his original task: dinner plans. “What do you have for vegetables out here?”

“Depends what you want to make.”

With deliberate casualness, Moon flanked Jenn at the counter, his voice calm but they both had the other in sight as they sorted out what was available in the crowded kitchen, Moon refusing to be intimidated by the scrawny human and her cryptic statements. Even with his guard back up, he took the time to be mindful, making a comment whenever he stepped behind her or reached through her blindspot to find something. As they moved and maneuvered in the limited space, they settled their plans for dinner, Jenn putting a headphone in one ear at some point in their shuffling.

Maybe I over-thought it, the dark robot pondered, watching the human light her stove fire and begin chopping a round, leafy ball into wedges. Maybe she was just warning me about not standing at her back. It could be a reflex or something? He had his own share of innate reflexes after all–-proper falling, catching incoming projectiles such as balls or cups aimed at his head, things he didn’t think about before doing–-and living alone it would stand to reason she probably had one or two that could be just as unpredictable.

Then why not say it? the argumentative echo of his own voice insisted, trying to drag the persistent paranoia out of the corner he’d relegated it to.

Privacy was the first reason that he thought of, watching Jenn fill the bowl with shrubby bits that crunched under the blade of her kitchen knife. It’s not as if he were entitled to her entire life story, after all–-privacy made complete sense even. It was simply courtesy that she tried to warn him against triggering a possible stabbing reflex if he stood too close.

But that didn’t quite feel correct.

“Ahem.”

Blue eyes stared at him from the kitchen counter expectantly.

Distractedly, Moon responded, “Hm?? What??”

Jenn tipped her head, indicating the space next to her at the counter where a second bowl, full of roots this time, sat waiting to be peeled. “I’m not making this all by myself. You asked, you help.”

Quickly, he countered, “I don’t know how to cook,” but she was undeterred.

“Then get over here and learn. Better to start now than when you’re out in the wilds starving yourself.”

It was a good point but it didn’t stop his displeased groan.

~

Stretching from head to toe with a grunt, Sun paused at the top of the stairs, taking a moment to enjoy the feeling of accomplishment that washed over him. A large grin crossed his face and his rays fluttered–-he’d managed to set up his own rig all on his own! And only fall once! Giddiness danced in his circuits, making it hard to stay still for long, but as he tried to calm himself just enough to not slip on the steps, his attention was drawn up, up, up to the sky. Beyond the treetops of blue and green the aurora shimmered and shone, its yellow glow scattering through the clouds as it always did, bathing everything in light that Sun felt almost guilty for not appreciating more until now.

While it was always yellow and green, once in a while the bright lights would twist and dip, turning any color of the rainbow they wanted with little notice. In part due to the tall buildings, viewing the sky from the estate was tricky even under the best of circumstances, but the gnawing guilt in his mind reminded the golden robot that he hadn’t exactly gone out of his way to try in recent months. Partly due to the buildings… and partly due to being kept inside more and more as time went on.

But that wasn’t the case now.

If I wanted, I could stay out here all day and just watch the sky! The idea was amusing and tempting, but more so the thought of laying down and resting had won the bid for his attention. Between the sheer fright of Jenn’s gymnastics skills and his own tumble to the ground when the knot he first used gave out–which Moon was not going to find out about–there had been quite enough excitement for him for the day.

Though it begged the question, where was Jenn anyway? She’d claimed she was tired-–rightfully so after her little stunt!--but there had been a rather lacking amount of Moon in the area as well. Hopefully he was behaving.

Amongst the comfortable thoughts of accomplishment and sky viewing, Sun felt a weight, hidden below the surface like a fish lurking in a muddy pond. It tore his attention from the sky–-was that a flicker of orange? No. Was it? Shaking his head, Sun turned toward the patio, walking himself inside before he could get completely off track.

There had to be a way to make Moon calm down. Yes, that was it. Be it stress from the ordeal or Sun’s own mistakes, he was determined to make this… situation as easy on them as possible. It was his job now. His purpose. There was no more Vissara, no parties and schedules needing completion-–his only priority was Moon’s well-being.

Only Moon’s.

At the back of his mind was a whisper he couldn’t quite make out. The feeling evaded words, but protested whenever he affirmed his dedication to maintaining his brother’s mental health, as if trying to correct him. Why, though? It was simple.

They were leaving eventually. Moon would be his only concern. Jenn was being hospitable–

Would she be lonely when they left?

The clarity of the feeling as it finally revealed itself made Sun stop short in the hallway, stunned at his own thought process. Moon’s words and warnings about not getting attached still hummed somewhere at the fringes of his mind like a search tab left playing in the background, and no amount of thinking about a future far, far from the reach of E’rta city managed to boster him against the worry that seeped in between the cracks. It’s what I’m made to do, the golden bot tried to tell himself even though he knew he shouldn't be trying to justify it any further. I’m made for humans. It’s… natural to become attached. Taking a deep breath, Sun pushed through the second half of that thought. So it will take more work not to do that. I only have to worry about Moon. I should only worry about Moon.

The clatter of dishware drew him from his affirmations and brought him back to the moment. Someone was in the kitchen! As he neared, he heard more noises–oddly familiar ones at that. Quiet but bouncing, melodic… singing? It was faint, as if done under one’s breath with no music, but it was definitely singing. Leaning behind the door frame, Sun tried to listen more closely between the clang and rattle of kitchen goings-on.

“Like this?” Moon’s voice.

Jenn’s next, the soft melody stopping. “Yep, just like that.”

“This stuff smells odd.”

“You mean delicious.”

Baffled, Sun continued to listen. Was Moon… cooking? Taking instructions? From Jenn?

“Oh, do you know this one?” Jenn again.

There was a pause, then Moon answered. “You listen to The Polifias?”

Jenn chuckled. “Wow, even by name. I’m impressed.”

“Orchestral techno has its moments. They happen to be most of them.”

“You can just say you like them.”

Instead of replying, Sun only heard the faint hum of Moon’s voice as he listened along to a silent song Sun faintly recognized.

They were getting along.

He couldn’t help the grin on his face, a feeling of warm relief filling his chest–-he had to actively dampen the glow that welled up in case it got their attention. Of course it would be music that makes Moon feel at ease!

Another sound of things moving and clanking, followed by Jenn sighing with accomplishment. “There, all done. We should go get him now, make sure he hasn’t hurt himself.”

Tensing a moment, Sun straightened and scrambled back from the entryway. Eavesdropping was bad!

“He’ll be fine, he’s more–” Moon rounded the gap and jumped–Sun jolted in kind, the pair staring at each other for a moment. “How long–” Shaking his head quickly, Moon composed himself. “When did you get in?”

Jenn poked her head around the corner as Sun gestured toward the door, trying to sound confused and natural. “Just now…? I heard talking and came to see what was happening.”

A friendly smile flashed across Jenn’s face, her hands busy wiping themselves on a kitchen rag. “Perfect timing, sunshine. Dinner is hot.”

“Dinner??”

So faint he’d almost missed it, Sun caught a glimpse of Moon seeming pleased with himself as he stepped to the side and gestured for his brother to come in. Sun did so, switching his olfactory sensors on–-the smell was intense and fragrant but incredible, catching him off guard and putting his Re_cycle system into overdrive. He was so used to having his sense of smell turned off by default–-everything in that estate was overwhelmingly perfumed for some reason he couldn’t understand-–that he’d completely missed the spicy, warm, peppery smell of something roasted over a fire. Yum!

Jenn seemed amused by his awestruck staring as she took her seat–still a pile of papers–and said, “It was all your brother’s idea.”

“It’s also my fault if it tastes bad,” Moon added on, trying to hide how sheepish he felt about his first attempt at cooking. That didn’t matter so much to Sun as he squeezed his brother in an elated hug, praising him for his efforts so enthusiastically, it made Jenn laugh quietly.

They’re good boys, she said to herself, watching Moon trying in vain to push his brother off of him but Sun’s longer reach made it impossible. I hope they stay that way.

After the invisible praise quota was filled, the pair of bots pulled up their chairs, Sun launching into the details of how he set up his new practice swing-–minus the bit about falling of course.

~

Bright eyes peered through the dimmed room from the edge of a large mattress; on either side sat the Stardusts, with the head of Rukbat between them. It wasn’t a good sleep time. Mother was restless. He wanted to wake her, but Laa kept the canine quiet with her small hand on his snout. Waking mother was bad, Rukbat knew, but her whimpering hurt.

Mother didn’t let them connect to her when she slept. No commands came through. It was quiet.

Twii made a faint sound, also being silenced by her sister with a look. So odd, these two. Rukbat knew they were not like himself–like the large Aquila. They understood mother in ways he never did. Never could. It saddened him that he couldn’t grasp why waking mother from her bad sleep wasn’t allowed. Mother got mad sometimes, but that wasn’t new! Mother hunted when she was mad. Hunting made for good dinner for good boys.

Rukbat was a good boy.

Mother tossed again, grabbing the blanket with her hand. The shiny arm was put away tonight. ‘Foreign’, mother had called it. Sometimes she did that when her shiny arm didn’t feel good; he wasn’t allowed to play with it when she did. That made Rukbat a bad boy.

But sitting was boring. He wanted to sleep but mother had kicked him when her bad sleep started–never her fault! It didn’t hurt, but the soft, nice bed wasn’t comfy when she had bad sleep. Twitching, rolling, sometimes she spoke–not nice things, nonsense things, noises from the forest. Mother was somewhere else in her bad sleep that he couldn’t see.

Oh, how he wanted to help!

The pattern of mother’s breathing changed. Ears perking, Rukbat put a paw on the bed. She would wake soon! Twii made another sound, concerned; she bowed her head and leaned, tapping her sister's chin. Laa pressed back, eyes locked on her mother.

Sure enough, with a sharp gasp Jenn sat bolt upright, half-coughing. Immediately, the trio rushed her, tongue licking and heads butting with concern and care. It was familiar and reassuring to Jenn to have them there, to recognize she was home when the fringes of deep sleep still painted her vision in a mix of dream and reality. “Guess it’s a crap sleep kind of day,” she mused shakily, grateful for the pressure of her twins on either side of her neck and her canine’s head in her lap.

It was bad enough falling asleep at all was a chore, the feeling of ‘too much energy’ in her body making her restless from the outset, her legs twitching or itching. Even removing her false arm didn’t curb the sensation, meaning it wasn’t because of that thing drawing power this time. “Figures,” she went on, voice creaking with fatigue while she got out from under her sheets. “The one time I want to sleep and it's being a little bracht about it.”

For a moment she considered going to make a drink but Twii blinked her facial screen, displaying the time and dashing those plans. If she woke up the other two, they’d likely get on her about her bad sleep habits and that wasn’t a conversation she wanted to have today. Or ever.

“Welp. Nothing a bit of light reading won’t fix, right?”

Crawling over her mattress haphazardly with only one arm, Jenn pulled herself onto the stacked cube shelves that served as a headboard, placed one taller than the next along the wall nearly up to the ceiling. Rukbat whined, waiting for a command, which she gave-–”Follow”-- as she climbed the shelves to the gap where a faint seam was visible among the ceiling tiles. Reaching up, Jenn found the flush handle and pushed it in, opening a panel that formed a ramp into the crawl space above.

Human, Stellis and Stardusts ascended the hidden passage, turning down the dark, low corner until it opened up again. Under the eaves, hidden and taking up the majority of the house’s size was Jenn’s favorite room–-her personal library; carpeted with random bits of salvaged or woven rugs, her footfalls were muted as she stood straight in the center of the room. The near wall was lined with sturdy, heavy shelves, each lined in turn with tomes and bound sheafs of paper of topics and tales that couldn’t be easily categorized or had yet to find space in the other more accessible spots scattered through the house-–the kitchen had cooking and canning books, the lounge had fiction and entertainment, and her lab had the relevant texts at the ready. Up here, though, was everything else-–and bits of the rest thrown in simply because they didn’t fit on the shelves otherwise.

The far wall had a panel of flexscreen pulled down, programmed into the video feed of the only surveillance camera that still worked on the property, providing a perfect outside view of the yard, the top of Aquila’s roost and the canopy. It helped keep the sloping roof from feeling claustrophobic, she felt. An old, beaten desk took up the wall to her right, nestled in the center of the shelves containing her personal works–what she was able to organize of them, anyway. The myriad other piles of papers scattered across the floor below had yet to make their way up here. It would probably do her some good to fix that sometime.

Not yet, though. One of those piles was her only seat at the table, so until her guests left and she got her chairs back, they would remain-–like the gray, staticy feeling that hazed her as she pulled out her desk chair to thumb through the papers that were already sitting out. Kinda wish I could just take a bath and be done with it, Jenn thought sternly, glad the papers were what she wanted and she didn’t have to get up again. Unfortunately, mental dust didn’t go away with a scrub or a soak like grime on the body.

Rukbat readily curled up under the desk, in the perfect spot for her to rub his back absently with the bottom of her foot. The twins found ways to entertain themselves on the desk or floor, often chasing bugs or each other as Jenn worked; today was no different, Twii engaging in a game of tag before Jenn had even settled fully. What those two did to entertain themselves during the day was a mystery to her, even after so long, but seeing them happy and thriving was all she needed to know to be content.

It’s been… about three years, hasn’t it? the human pondered, watching as Laa got an advantage by darting behind a book stack to get away from her sister, hiding underneath the shelf below. I’d say time flies but it definitely feels like that long. Longer, sometimes.

She sighed, surprising herself.

Grunting, “Bah,” she turned to the stack of papers once more, rereading the notes she’d placed the last time she was there.

Part way through her review, the intrusive thoughts began.

It’s odd they warmed up so quickly to the Sunrise, but kind of nice too.

Jenn nodded to herself. It was nice, indeed. Almost no one came out this way at all; in fact, she could count on one hand the number of people who even knew where she was to begin with. The twins only liked two of them.

I wonder if they’re online?

Hesitating, Jenn took a breath and gave a quick, “Hey,” to the girls, getting their attention before Laa could pounce on her sister. “Twii, c’mere.”

Chirping happily, the pink blur came over immediately. She hovered, giving a somersault in the air before settling in Jenn’s upturned hand.

“Check my contacts quick?”

A cone of light appeared from the central display node of the Stardust’s facial disk, coalescing from particles of light into a legible screen showing a display from a forum page. Gesturing through the prompts, Jenn navigated to her contacts page, then to her priority column. Only two names were displayed, their statuses underneath showing they were ‘unavailable’.

WKYD3Z7: status–offline (last seen: 46 days ago)

The status line below their name read “bzy in scrap cntry”. Jenn could only guess what was taking so long out that way but it wasn’t unusual for this one to be wandering dead zones where the signal towers didn’t reach so there was no helping it.

The second contact was the concerning one.

MSKBD1X: status–offline (last seen: 126 days ago)

Two-and-a-half months. The status line only read the default “unavailable”.

It’s not like he’s never been offline this long before, Jenn assured herself, but it didn’t stop the worry.

It never stopped the worry.

“Thanks, Twii.” The screen faded away, Twii peeping curiously at her mother who gave her gentle chin scratches in thanks. “Don’t worry about it, just… hoping they’re both alright.”

Jenn allowed her pink child to return to their game, feeling the fingers of concern and isolation drag themselves through her mind-–she shook her head vigorously, which disturbed Rukbat from his nap. “Ah, sorry, bud.” Unbothered, the canine gave her knee a lick and rolled over, pressing his weight into her foot comfortingly. “At least I have you all…”

Yet, she sighed again, laying the papers on her desk.

The intrusive thoughts hadn’t stopped.

At least they can’t leave me.

Jenn squeezed her hand into a fist, grimacing. Not again.

I hope the girls won’t be too sad when the boys leave.

Hand on her thigh, Jenn stared at the papers, trying to force herself to read the notes.

They obviously really like the Sunrise. He’s very kind.

Her nails dug into her skin, trying to get the thoughts to quiet.

Maybe if I offered, they’d want to stay–?

A raw, red flare of lines appeared as Jenn’s nails scraped across her thigh, successfully jarring her from the spiral that nearly got her. “Ow…” Hissing between her teeth at the soreness, she adjusted her seat slightly to rest her head in her hand over the desk. “Knock it off,” she said quietly. “You did it to yourself by looking on the network.” Twii and Laa peeked out from the bookshelf, hearing the grumbling. “Just… be patient. Who cares if those boys want to leave? Soon, you’ll have a companion just like them who won’t want to go anywhere and who you can trust… hopefully… You’ve lasted this long. What’s another year? Or two?” Slowly, Jenn sank onto the desk, forehead pressed into the crook of her elbow; her throat hurt, making her voice crack. “Just be… patient.”

Concerned, the twins exchanged looks before floating down, circling their mother’s hunched form as it quivered, her breath shaking.

It had been a long time since they’d last seen their mother cry-–but there wasn’t anything they could do to help.

… was there?

Chapter Text

Waking hours came rough, with stiffness and dry eyes. Not unexpected, but still unwelcome.

Trudging down the hall, Jenn twisted and rolled her shoulder, prosthetic fully reattached and cycling into function, only to hear a clamor from the kitchen. At her feet her canine darted past, ears perked, prompting her to follow with quickened steps. “Rukbat?” she called, rounding into the kitchen after him only to stop short, eyes landing on the surprised forms of Sun and Moon mid-preparation of something or other. “What–?”

Blurting a, “Well-woken!” Sun grinned sheepishly, hiding a bowl behind himself in an effort to appear nonchalant. “We, um…”

Squinting confusedly between the two, Jenn asked slowly, “What’s… going on…?”

Moon’s gaze darted to Sun for a moment as he rested his weight on the heels of his hands, perched at the sink which had a pile of roots sitting in it, waiting to be washed. He seemed guilty of something. Or embarrassed.

“We… noticed you weren’t awake yet,” Sun offered, gently nudging Rukbat away with his foot when the canine came up to sniff at his back, “so we thought we’d take a crack at making breakfast…?”

Jenn stared, still confused.

Cutting the silence short, Moon added a bit stiffly, “ But we don’t actually know how to do that and spent too much time trying to figure it out and now you’re awake.”

She blinked a few times, trying to register what they were saying. “You… were going to make me breakfast?”

“Yeeeeeees?” Sun tipped his head a bit. “You’ve fed us already, it only seemed fair to try.”

“I can feed myself.” Snapping her fingers at her hip, Rukbat obeyed and came to her side before he could make a mess looking for snacks.

“We know,” Moon said, somewhat stiffly. He hadn’t been paying attention and didn’t want to concede her arrival startled him.

“Then why–?”

Yellow eyes snapped to her with a tense, confused glint. “The ‘why’ is because we wanted to be nice. Like you’ve been to us. Is it really that hard to figure out?”

“Moon!” Sun snapped, catching his tone.

“What?”

Closing her eyes, Jenn cleared her throat, stopping them before they could bicker. “It’s a fair point, I’m just used to taking care of myself is all. I… appreciate the offer. Thoughts that count and all that.”

Clutching the bowl openly, Sun looked to the ground. “Sorry we aren’t very good at this.”

“I don’t expect you to be,” Jenn said with light resignation, stepping forward to take the bowl from him. “But you tried, and that’s worth a lot.” It was a fight to not break into a smile–-how pathetic would she look if they knew how touched she was by just the idea they’d thought of her? “What did you get stuck on?”

“Um…” Casting a look around the kitchen, Sun’s fingers twisted together. “We couldn’t find the eggs.”

This got a chuckle, a light grin sneaking across the human’s face as she set the bowl down. “That’s because I don’t keep many in the house at one time.”

“You don’t?”

Gesturing to the outside door, Jenn asked, “Do you want to see where I get my eggs?”

Lighting up like a bonfire, Sun looked to his brother excitedly. “Can I?”

Brow raised, Moon gave him a wave. “Go for it.”

That was all the permission the lanky bot needed, striding to the door in seconds, but Jenn lingered, giving the darker brother a curious gaze. “Are you coming with?”

Returning her look steadily, he declined. “I’m alright.”

“Are you sure?”

He waved again, motioning for them to get going. “I’m sure, I’m going to fix our mess so we can actually make breakfast when you get back.”

“Alright.”

He watched as they left, Rukbat at his mistress’s heels as they went outside, the door sealing shut with a hiss of air he was growing familiar with. Once they were gone, Moon flipped his attention inward to his diagnostic scan.

/MD-Diagnostic assessment: Subject_Jenn%//

>Symptoms noted:

>>Heart rate: normal_

>>Under Eye bags: minimized_

>>Pale skin_

>>Redness in sclera_

>>Redness in area around eyes_

>>Posture denotes bodily pain or stiffness_

/Possible Results: restless sleep, emotional distress, pain response, drug usage//

/Filter results?

Brow furrowed, he opted to postpone confirmation and simply left the prognosis pending in Jenn’s profile, which was still worryingly empty. Her words about not knowing her last name still lingered, circling in his mind and growing louder every time he bothered to look at that file, even for a moment. Guests all had public records they were allowed to access when meeting them, things such as family relations, height, allergies, recent notes from public media–-having one so bare bones was uncomfortable. What could he do, though? Ask?

Well, probably, Moon conceded after a moment, but something tells me she won’t answer. For just a second, he considered going back to snooping, but having come up empty until now, he doubted he’d find anything new just because he’d changed his intentions. He would just need to accept he wouldn’t get any answers for the time being.

Scowling to himself, he turned and took to washing the tayn root he’s already placed in the sink, changing his focus back to his assessment log. She wasn’t anywhere in the house for a while, he noted, hearing no footsteps for some hours after retiring for the day. He assumed she’d gone to bed. The dark rings must have been from insomnia, so maybe her eyes are red from dry eye? A restless sleep, perhaps?

As a nocturnal type, Moon knew he had certain functionality specifically for rest hours: quiet steps, a gentle voice, some knowledge of human sleep patterns and comfort. He was built to soothe and comfort as much as entertain-–it was one of the few things that that vile woman had actually made use of him for, for a while at least. Often he would be asked to sing, but once in a while she’d demand a back rub or for him to sit or lay so she could use him as a pillow.

At first it was fine, but as his mistrust grew, Moon felt he was compromising the quality of sleep he provided and this caused her to grow annoyed with him. If she didn’t sleep well, she made sure he knew it, which only made the sleep worse for her as he grew more mistrustful. Eventually, she stopped calling on him entirely. At first, Moon assumed she found another way to force herself to sleep with some supplement or such.

Only too late did he realize she was replacing him with Sun for company on those nights, when he was busy wandering the estate before turning in.

Though he somewhat resented his inadequate skills at being a night companion, given his poor long-term performance for providing comfort, Moon still held hope it was because he didn’t want Vissara to rest and wasn't due to a defect within himself. That somehow his displeasure had seeped through his shell to keep her awake and uncomfortable because he wanted her to be. With that hope in mind, Moon felt he might have a chance to be properly useful.

Mysterious and confusing as she was, he didn’t dislike Jenn nearly as much as he hated Vissara. Perhaps if she was having issues sleeping, he could help? Return her hospitality, so to speak.

Assuming she’d trust him enough to actually sleep in his presence of course.

~

“THERE ARE SO MANY!”

Jenn pressed her hand her to her mouth, fighting back a giggle as she watched Sun fawn over the collection of burta fowl gathered in the bushes, their blue and purple feathers helping them to blend into the shrubbery planted around the moderate coop tucked away behind the house. At one time it likely operated as a shed, but Jenn had long since renovated it into a proper coop for keeping egg layers, the flock of fifteen-ish, ball-sized birds being more than enough for her needs.

At the entrance to the coop, Rukbat sat on his haunches, guarding his quarry.

With barely contained excitement, Sun crouched near the ball of feathers, debating to try and touch one of the many birds that milled about, their dark beaks and eyes bobbing up and down in search of bugs and seeds. “Birds… real birds!” he muttered to himself, fingers tangling together to keep from reaching toward them. The last thing he wanted was to scare them!

Gathering herself, Jenn crossed her arms, watching him watch the fowl like a child with ants. “Real birds and real pains in the butt sometimes, but they keep the flies and gnats down so it’s worth a little mess once in a while.”

Sun’s cheeks flashed a moment at being overheard but he recovered with a smile, twirling upright on his heels gracefully; the burta ruffled at the sudden motion but settled just as quickly. “Why haven’t I seen them before now?”

Jenn shrugged. “They wander around and hang out in the trees mostly, they don’t like being out in open spaces like the yard because of predators.”

“Ah.” A faint recollection of the birds falling still when Aquila flew overhead danced through his mind. “That makes sense.”

“Ruk’s also tasked with keeping them together during the day, it’s what he’s normally doing when not assigned to something else. If they wander too far out, he brings them back and shuts them in for rest or at night.”

Sheepishly, Sun mused, “I guess I just haven’t been paying attention.”

“You’ve been busy, nothing wrong with that.”

At those words, the lanky bot perked up, teeth flashing as his smile widened. Taking a quick step, Sun folded his hands together in a begging gesture of sorts, his words tumbling over each other in his excitement. “That’s right! Can I show you something, too?”

“Huh?” A trickle of caution slid up Jenn’s back but Sun had already taken her elbow and begun to pull with surprisingly gentleness, bringing her to the recreation equipment. Following out of curiosity and confusion, Jenn almost stumbled a few times as her legs simply didn’t match the stride that Sun had with her arm hitched up by the elbow.

Sun talked happily about his efforts to rig up his swing again, bursting with pride, yet he felt her fumbling gait and instinctively adjusted without breaking stride or rhythm in his steps or words. Fingertips slipping over her forearm, his grip settled on the human’s wrist, her posture accommodating as she gained some balance now that her arm was free, skin raising with goosebumps from the tickle and assured grip of his slender hand. It wasn’t painful or firm, but he had purpose in keeping hold of her despite the fact she’d follow him regardless simply out of curiosity.

Absently, Jen’s teeth pressed into the soft inside of her lip, which caught her off guard for a moment as they broke cover at the edge of the equipment area. Here, his grasp slipped away and Jenn fought back a flicker of an urge to grab for him, surprising herself further until she whipped her arms behind her back to keep them in check just as he turned, eyes bright.

“See?”

A long, mismatched stretch of cloth dangled freely from the once empty spire of wood and metal, dangling for yards and yards–-it would brush the grass if it weren’t tethered to the base of the pole to keep it off the ground.

“I had to cut and re-tie it to add length but it holds up perfectly now!”

“Good job, sunshine,” she acknowledged after a moment, fingers lacing together behind her back. Doofus, she chided herself. You’re being pathetic again. You’re not a kid looking for dad’s hand, stop dwelling on it.

“Jenn?”

With a start, Jenn zoned in to the sound of her name. “Sorry?”

“I asked if you want to try it out?” Sun’s expression was unbothered by her lapse in attention, as he was too excited and proud of his first thing he made himself–-sort of-–to be concerned.

It took a moment for Jenn to comprehend what he asked. “Huh…?”

Gesturing slowly to the scarf, Sun’s brows raised. “The hanging swing? Will you try it out with me?” Faintly, he added with a small smile, “Please?”

Worry tensed her shoulders and arms. “W-why? Did–-haven’t you tested it already?” She tried to find a more valid excuse to avoid the swing that didn’t sound like she didn’t trust his judgment–-which she didn’t.

“Oh, of course!” Happily, Sun circled the equipment which encouraged her to follow. With a groan, Jenn padded after him, not wanting to hinder his enthusiasm. “It’s perfectly durable! I made sure!”

“Then why do you need me?”

Grasping the section of fabric looped around the pole, Sun wound them around his forearms and gave them a tug as he unhitched the length from the base. He seemed confused by her question, pausing a moment before answering. “Have you ever been on a silk swing before?”

Jenn pursed her lips, dreading the direction the conversation was going as she watched him hike himself up, looping into a stable position with an ease that almost made her jealous. “I… I’ve been on rings once or twice but that was… years ago.” When she had it for herself and didn’t need to share the limited space, nevermind that metal was sturdy and consistent compared to silk and wool.

This didn’t deter him. Changing his stance after climbing up a reasonable way, Sun leaned back so he was peering at the human upside down as he swayed. “Did you not like it?”

A lie would have been better, but she couldn’t bring herself to say one. “Well, no, I thought it was fun…”

His smile widened as he leaned further, arms hanging down toward her. “Come up with me then!”

Her response choked off in her throat–-he thought it was from concern.

“I promise, I know what I’m doing!”

Hand waving faintly, Jenn forced words out that directly conflicted with her usual bluntness. “I… believe that, I do… just… why?” Crushing his creativity wouldn’t do any of them any good if he ended up with a knack for building things that could be useful. And that dragged smile is so innocent…

With a grabby motion of his hands, Sun’s expression softened from childish glee to a gentleness Jenn wasn’t prepared to comprehend. “I know I didn’t join you yesterday because I was concerned, but you tried to share something you found fun with me, so I want to show you something I think is fun. We don’t have to swing if you’re uncomfortable, but I do want to share this with you for just a minute.”

No.

No no no–-

Racing against an unseen force, Jenn’s heart pounded, a rush of feelings overtaking her thoughts in quick succession.

If she went up, she’d be relying on someone else not to drop her. Someone she didn’t know.

But that face-–

Not a single twitch or line belied any foul intentions–-he’d reacted so adversely to the notion of her falling, there was no reason to assume he’d simply changed his mind overnight and planned to drop her on her head. Right?

Those eyes, his tone, the softness of his face–-it was all genuine.

She felt it in her gut.

But she’d have to trust him.

Could she…?

Carefully, fingers closed around metal–-Jenn realized she was reaching out, taking hold of his arms–-Sun’s grip was just as careful, precise. Happiness rushed his system, but Sun knew not to get carried away with it when doing anything in tandem; he changed his grip as he pulled, taking Jenn’s feet off the ground, causing them to sway slightly. Her body tensed completely, his HUD flashing with warnings of pre-panic. Adjusting his stance, Sun hooked his shin more securely through the fabric, creeping his hands to Jenn’s shoulders to encourage her to grab onto him more, her eyes flickering rapidly every which way. “Have you ever shared a swing before?” he asked calmly, trying to keep her focus on him.

“No!” she barked, her legs kicking slightly in an effort to touch the ground that only made them sway more.

Ah, Sun acknowledged, unperturbed. No wonder she’s worried.

“I swear on the aurora, bright eyes,” she went on, voice strained, “ if you drop me–-”

Finally, he caught her eye as she tried to bore a hole in his skull, stopping the panicked threat dead so he could speak without cutting her off. “I promise,” he stated gently, gaze never wavering, “I won’t let you fall. Please… trust me.”

The cacophony of panic dimmed suddenly, making Jenn a bit dizzy with the sudden silence in her mind. Every reason to worry simply fell quiet, unable to stand against the genuine and unfettered confidence the golden bot had in his ability to keep her safe while sharing a rigorous, limited space. Through the heavy internal silence that almost made her ears ring, Jenn murmured, “Alright,” before exhaling and allowing herself to relax.

Sun’s hands flexed, grip tightening to compensate for her dead weight; the smile never left his face, even when the human closed her eyes tightly, anticipating the next step. With deliberate slowness, Sun rocked them both, his legs coiling tighter against the fabric’s tension to keep them secure while he worked to get some momentum going. Jenn’s face scrunched, her fingers digging into his shell with nothing to sink into but the fabric of his borrowed tunic. I know I said I wouldn’t swing, he thought to himself, posture adjusting with each change in direction so he could get ready to haul Jenn upward, but I need to for just a moment. Please don’t be mad!

Every inch of her body wanted to tense again. To prepare to jump, to land safely and by her own volition. Jenn fought to keep herself calm, to breathe and not struggle.

Why? she wondered as air rushed to and fro passed her ears. I have no reason to believe him!

In her gut, she felt the ground pass underfoot despite not touching it at all.

But… I also have no reason not to…

The swing was nearing the peak of its arc, the rush slowing ever-so-slightly around her.

I can’t believe for a minute that that silly face is dangerous…

Jenn’s breath hitched as she awaited the plunge.

Sun’s grip released.

Eyes flying open, Jenn peered wildly around as she was let free, rising a bit more through the air now that she wasn’t being dragged back by the mass of the robot and the swing. The weightless feeling was familiar, comfortable even, yet a panicked yelp wriggled out of her mouth. How could he!!

But it was hardly seconds, even with things moving slowly to her by the grace of pure adrenaline. Sun let her slip up with the force of the arc to give himself the chance to lean forward and right himself on the fabric swing, twisting around just-so before she began to fall-–and down she came, guided by an arm at her waist into the sick plunge of the swing careening along its designated path. They curled together, Sun’s lithe body braced between the strips of old cotton and thread, gaining control over the wayward rig with a few measured motions that offset the chaotic twist they found themselves in. Jenn instinctively pressed against him, forelegs hooked around his thighs as she tried to balance and find a secure hold but failing–-he was taller than she was, there was no way to use his feet to stand on while held to his torso like she was.

When the mayhem calmed, the swing settled into a controlled rotation; Jenn felt gravity return, urging her to grab onto something so she wouldn’t flop over and fall anyway. Her arms wrapped around the thin yet sturdy middle of her companion, clutching on awkwardly for dear life.

“Sorry,” Sun’s voice said quietly, his tone low and gentle as his own grip came to rest across her back and at her elbow, offering support against the efforts of physics without trying to restrain her. “I should have warned you.”

Carefully, Jenn peeked her eyes open, taking in her surroundings. No ground under her feet, but she was secure. The air was cool. Leaves rustled in the breeze. Just below that, the faint sound of the internal components of Sun doing their tasks; absently, she took a moment to focus there. Hums and whirs barely audible behind the white noise of the forest–-it felt familiar.

Comfortable.

She peered up, breathing slowly through her mouth to keep herself from hyperventilating. Smiling teal eyes looked back.

“See?” he went on in the same gentle tone. “I told you I wouldn’t drop you.”

Part of her nearly snapped at him, wanting to call him a liar, but it stopped dead just as her racing thoughts had earlier. Because he hadn’t. Let go? Yes. But then he caught her. Kept her close. Stopped her from kissing the ground.

“Y…” Her voice caught for a moment, her gaze dropping to look outward once again. “Yeah, I… guess you did.”

The rig eventually slowed to a stop, Jenn’s senses stretched to their limit as she took in everything for the moment, daring not to meet those sweet, teal eyes again. Though she wouldn’t describe herself as heavy, Jenn was aware of the way her weight was carried at all times–-she had to be, in her line of work–-and this was no different. Unable to use her feet, she’d bore most of her mass with her legs which were still firmly pressed to the robot’s own; Sun had the wherewithal to lean back slightly, hands wrapped and gripping the swing on either side, having made it cross at his shoulders like a harness. His weight was securely tethered to the equipment, the fabric twisting this way and that around each spindly limb to ensure he couldn’t slip out easily. By leaning back just a bit, he’d made himself into a seat of sorts where their shared center of gravity was at their hips, keeping Jenn from tipping over as long as she didn’t wriggle or turn too quickly.

Clearly, he’d had a lot of practice with a partner given how easily he made the maneuver look. Even without an assessment, Jenn could tell he was considering her safety just by his own posture and the way he kept hold of her elbow now that they were still. Despite her initial worry, she felt almost… safe to simply enjoy being in the air.

Almost.

“Are you alright?”

Jenn’s teeth ground together as her jaw tensed. His voice was still gentle, but the broken silence shattered her peace along with the quiet. “I… yeah. I’m fine.”

By the way her fingers dug into his forearms, he knew that wasn’t the case. “Do you want to get down now?”

“That… might be a good idea. Your brother is waiting for us.”

A ripple of embarrassment whacked Sun in the face as he agreed and began to lower them to the ground. He’d been so excited he’d forgotten they were making breakfast! As he unfolded his arms from the swing and gave a gentle warning he’d be dropping down, Jenn simply slid down his leg and let herself drop. The fall wasn’t nearly as high as her equipment was-–he hadn’t planned to take them much higher than needed-–but he still found himself tense as she hit the ground with a resonant thud, rising and stepping away to give him space to dismount. She kept her back to him the entire time, but her arms were folded across her body, as if hugging herself.

“Jenn?” he started, twisting free and landing lightly on the balls of his feet. Worry he’d gone too far was seeping in quickly. “Are you sure you’re alright…? You can tell me if–-” A step toward her made her turn slightly, her shoulders squaring; he froze.

/SD-Diagnostic assessment: Subject_Jenn%//

>Default status changed_

>>Facial redness detected_

>>Glassy eyes detected_

>>Rising body temperature detected_

/Possible Results: emotional distress, allergic reaction//

/Filter results?

Dismissing the prompt on his HUD, Sun’s brow knit with concern. For a brief moment, the human seemed… different. Vulnerable.

Jenn felt the heat in her face the moment she turned, sensing his approach to her blindspot even through the storm inside her head. Their eyes met, his flickering with worry and genuine care–-her cheeks reddened swiftly, catching her off guard with how hot her ears burned.

No no no.

“I’m fine!” she blurted, lips twisting into a smile that she covered with her hand as she turned away. “Just… a little woozy!”

“Woozy?”

Stupid.

She felt him near. Felt her body recoil instinctively, even though he kept a polite gap between them.

“I’m sorry! I thought you were alright with heights??”

This is what you get for being soft. Jenn kept her head turned so he couldn’t read her face. It kept him in her blind spot–-at her back–-but he wasn’t a threat. Not in that way. “Yeah.”

Liar.

“It’s a control thing. I’m fine when I’m the one making the choices and relying on myself up there.” Gesturing upward, Jenn started to walk, hearing his footfalls a heartbeat afterward as they caught up in a few strides. “If I have to worry about someone else, well… the vertigo comes for me.”

Liar.

“Oh!” Sun’s voice wavered, his finger touching his mouth with concern. “Why didn’t you say so? Is that why you closed your eyes??”

“Maybe,” she ventured, dismissing his worry with a wave of her hands. “I was hoping it had gone away, it’s been years since I last tried… so I guess I’m just not lucky.”

“Well…” Tucking his arms behind his back, Sun fell into step behind his guide, trying not to let guilt overwhelm him for making her feel sick. “I’m still sorry it didn’t go the way you wanted. I appreciate you tried!”

Liar–-

“Me, too.”

~

They’re taking too long.

Moon rested against the patio rail with his fingers drumming over his forearm in an effort to not push himself into a worry spiral. Surely collecting eggs couldn't take that long, could it? Thankfully, his worries abated quickly as he caught sight of the pair in question emerging from the tree line–-though from the wrong direction. They came up the steps, human then robot, seeming a bit surprised to find him outside.

“Forgot the basket,” was all Jenn commented on as she passed before he could even manage to ask anything.

She disappeared into the kitchen, leaving Sun, who seemed a bit off in a way Moon couldn’t place, on the patio. Gritting his teeth against jumping straight to conclusions–-he told himself he’d reign it in for Sun’s sake–-he managed a level but inquisitive tone that tore his brother’s distant and contemplative gaze from where the human vanished. “What’s wrong?”

Freezing as he snapped away from his inner thoughts, Sun rubbed the side of his face to mask his expression and buy a second to think of an answer that wouldn’t upset his brother. Goofing off alone and upsetting their host would be a surefire way to get the dark bot on his case again, especially after promising himself he’d do better to prevent that. “She-–uh, Jenn was just annoyed her basket wasn’t with the eggs!”

Moon raised a brow. “I meant you.”

“Me?” Sun felt his joints tense for a moment.

“You looked like you were mentally somewhere else. Something up?”

Oh. Relieved their Lock hadn’t given away anything yet, the lanky bot managed a weak smile. “I was wondering about what it would take to have hens of our own one day!”

The bluff appeared to work as Moon’s brows shot up, his yellow irises flickering worriedly. “How about not?”

“It doesn’t have to be right away!” Sun insisted, latching onto and pushing the subject to fully bury the truth as deep as he could get it. “Obviously, we know nothing about taking care of real animals, and more so we don’t even have a place to live yet!”

“Exactly,” Moon pushed back verbally, shaking his head slightly. “Let’s take this one day at a time.”

“I am!” It took defaulting to his Guest_Greeting protocol to force a believable smile but it felt necessary. “It’s just wishful thinking, Moon, I promise.”

Giving his brother a final regard, Moon dismissed his concern just as the sound of returning footsteps caught his attention. Jenn rounded the deck with a new basket in hand, seeming perfectly normal to his eye–-why Sun had assumed he’d been asking about the human was a curiosity Moon chose to let go of for the time being. It lingered at the edges of his mind alongside the myriad other unanswered questions he had but having already promised himself to try and be more accepting of Jenn’s presence, Moon wasn’t about to give it any more energy than needed to store it away for later. If he didn’t, it would take root and bother him all day.

The basket passed from Jenn’s hands to Sun’s, the pair making a quick exchange he missed while sorting his thoughts, the last trail of words cutting off as Jenn pointed off into the treeline. She turned her gaze to him. “You coming?”

Having not heard what they’d said, Moon declined, knowing better than to blindly agree to anything he hadn’t expressly recorded and pulled apart for loopholes. Not again.

Thankfully, Sun spared him from needing to explain himself by cutting in with a cheerful, “I can manage it! It doesn’t seem too difficult!”

“Alright,” Jenn drawled back, shrugging and waving off the lanky bot as he made his way back down to the forest floor.

With some surprise, Moon realized Jenn wasn’t going with him. His jaw tensing briefly, he ventured, “Are you not going with…?” as she leaned on the rail next to him, seeming distracted by something in the grass.

“I think he can handle scooping eggs out of a shed,” she replied, her eyes turning to meet his with a directness that gave him pause.

What is she playing at? he wondered, already feeling his guard snap into place with little provocation. Memories of the kitchen and the tool at his back surged forward, crisp and clear. Was he prepared to be alone with her again after that odd exchange? The thoughts settled as Jenn’s gaze broke away to focus on the yard once more, taking the brief worry with her; if he didn’t know any better, he’d think her cyan irises were shining in the dim light of the aurora that filtered through the canopy.

More than that, he wondered about how contemplative and oddly… gentle her gaze was for seemingly no reason. He even found himself tracking the faint flicker of her line of sight as her focus subtly shifted between thoughts he could only guess at-–judging by the speed it changed, whatever it could be was troubling her.

Before he could fully commit to it by choice, Moon felt words leave him. “You good?”

Jen snapped out of her daze, not with a jolt and bang, but a sigh. “Ah… yeah, just… a lot on my mind.”

“Is that why you stayed behind?”

“No, I stayed behind for you.”

Whatever he’d expected for a response, that was not it. Moon reeled slightly under the weight of the confusion that overcame him. “Excuse me?”

Jenn’s eyes danced down the line of his body as he half leaned on the rail, jumping from his shoulder to his hip, then down his ankles before flicking to his face, giving him a rather obvious once-over for some unknown tell or sign of some sort. It was then, just as she went to answer, that he began to understand what about her gaze that was unnerving him every time their eyes met. Directness was something he’d grown accustomed to at the estate, but where Vissara’s eyes were cold, full of inherent superiority and authority given to her by her position as their owner, Jenn’s were… different.

Unwavering. Focused.

Animals-–real animals, the few of them that managed to get into the garden that he was able to observe–-had the same steady look in their eyes. It was something he’d never perceived in a human before, as many of them broke eye contact after only a few seconds or tended to drift their focus to other areas to avoid a full meeting of gazes. Not Jenn, though. The animalistic intensity burning behind her irises that kept her gaze level lent a sense of intensity behind every shift in focus. The expression of her eyes was extremely deliberate. Pure, in a way.

It unsettled him that a human would have such eyes.

Barely a second passed as Moon drew this conclusion, leaving Jenn to speak without breaking the rhythm of their conversation. If it could be called that. “You’ve been… well, for lack of a better term, you’ve been distant.”

The words didn’t quite click as Moon’s own gaze drifted down the human’s body next to him, just as blatant–-though he didn’t know what he was looking for as he did. She was relaxed, both elbows braced on the metal rail as she hunched comfortably against it; barefoot, per the usual, and a similar outfit to the previous day, just in different colors. From everything he’s seen thus far, Moon assumed Jenn favored earthy, neutral tones, but it conflicted with the fact she’d chosen to dye her hair a deep sapphire blue-–though that had been some time ago, judging by the one or two inches of growth showing at the root. It complimented her eyes, in a way, which matched the blue light of her prosthetic arm where its directive displays lit up, but that itself was a sterile white color that didn’t quite match to the rest of her appearance. Everything about this human was a mis-matched array of things that made sense alone, yet co-existed haphazardly as if slapped together at the last minute with little regard for what was around it.

Jenn’s very existence would drive Vissara crazy. This thought gave Moon a pleased grin for a half-second before he recalled she’d said something to him he needed to respond to.

“Distant?” he repeated, fumbling out of his thoughts with some dignity intact.

Thankfully, Jenn didn’t notice he wasn’t completely there for a moment. “You’ve been avoiding or dipping out early from things, usually if I’m involved. I want to make sure you’re not avoiding me because you’re uncomfortable, especially if you want to prepare to take on the big, wide world later.”

Moon made a sound akin to a snort. “Not that I am, but after our little chat in the kitchen could you blame me for it?”

Jenn’s gaze narrowed slightly. “You did this before I held an awl to your back.”

Shekt .

“Plus, that’s pretty crap of you to ditch your brother with me if you thought I was a threat. Wanna try again?”

Shekt. Moon’s attention diverted for a moment as Jenn stood up, weight bearing down on one hand now while the other fixed the mess of hair on her head, causing it to fall slightly over her right eye. Incidentally, it suited her more that way, but he wouldn’t dare say so. “Actually,” he tried instead, the internal panic to cover his unspoken complement releasing a thought from the fringes he hadn’t planned to voice, “I still don’t understand what that was about, if I’m being honest.” Jenn’s brow raised slightly, her posture turning more so her back was to the rail, both hands now pressed to the metal bar as she focused on a spot on the wall somewhere. “You’re gentle one minute, then the next you’re threatening to crack me like a chulnut, then you finish cleaning me like nothing happened. I’m trying very hard to give you the benefit of the doubt that you mentioned, but I can’t figure out what you were trying to tell me-–if you were saying anything at all.”

Jenn’s eyes closed as her head tipped back, a deep sigh leaving her mouth; a gentle breeze skimmed through the yard as if sighing with her in a way. “Part of me was trying to see if you were still being cautious,” she started after a pause, her half-closed eyes hiding her point of focus as she thought. “But I guess the truth is I needed to remind myself to be cautious, too.”

Moon’s brow furrowed slightly. “You ?”

“You can’t tell me we all trust each other just because we’ve slept in the same house a few times.”

Mouth turning down, he grunted, “Well, Sun-–”

“--I don’t think he counts,” she cut in, though her own mouth was turned up a bit, amused.

“And why not?” Part of him genuinely wanted to know, the other part was resigned to accept his dear brother had no discretion when it came to trusting others. In a way, he was almost jealous of it.

“This world needs more people like your brother.”

Once more, the response caught Moon off guard.

Jenn went on, seeming to pick up he was more confused than before. “Azil is many things,” she glanced over, eyes reflecting a green tint as the aurora’s light refracted off them, “but it’s not perfect.”

Those words were familiar. For a moment he was back in the kitchen, facing backwards on a chair with his back exposed to a stranger, a sharp object sliding across his shell with precision and intent that denoted a practiced hand.

“People aren’t perfect. They’re selfish and greedy and arrogant, even at the best of times.”

Moon’s mouth pressed into a thin line as he listened, a small part of him feeling this was being directed at him on purpose–-though as another oddly veiled warning or a personal jab at him specifically he wasn’t certain.

“But,” a faint smile graced her lips again, one eye still hidden under her shock of hair as she tilted her head toward him, “there’s still good people, in between the bad ones. We desperately need more of them, in my opinion, and your brother’s one of them.”

“What exactly does that mean?” Half of him was prepared to be accusatory, but his tone was simply curious. Either he was getting better at pretending or she wasn’t being suspicious in a way he could detect.

“He’s honest and genuine.”

For a flicker, something in the human’s face changed. If he hadn’t been looking right at her, he’d have missed it, but Moon swore to himself he caught her eyes becoming soft when mentioning Sun. Gentle, like when he greeted her pocket companions.

As with all of her faint expressions, it didn’t last long enough for it to be identified properly–-nor did Jenn seem to realize she’d given away what she was feeling for that brief sliver of time. Or perhaps she didn’t care. “You’ll learn one way or another that many people aren’t who they present themselves to be at first glance, but there’s still some who do. Once you figure out how to tell who's being honest and who’s not, you’ll both be better off.”

Something twisted inside Moon’s chest, stirring the paranoia from where he’d sealed it away. It wanted to pick apart her words, read between every line for something that wasn't there. This is harder than I thought, he told himself while beating back the mess of feelings vying for focus in his mind.

“Still trying to figure out if you trust me?”

Moon tensed, the sensation of being bare and vulnerable shaking him out of his inner war against himself. Had he said something aloud by accident??

“Don’t look surprised,” Jenn mused at his reaction while holding his gaze–-or perhaps she never let it go and he’d merely zoned out again when his paranoia hit. Lifting a finger, she wiggled the end over the bridge of her nose. “Your eyes dart around when you’re trying to figure out if I’m telling the truth.”

An alert flashed on the inner HUD, an embarrassed flush crossing his face that shifted his facial chromas from indigo to violet. “How-–” Moon’s voice cracked, forcing him to quickly reset his voice box-–an equivalent to clearing his throat. “How do you know that?”

“I pay attention.” A flash of white as she smiled–-not a smirk or a grin, but a soft, genuine smile.

Moon’s HUD alerted again, forcing him to manually dismiss it. Doing so did not fix the color of his face, unfortunately. “Sorry I’m not as quick to believe people as Sun is,” he grumbled, attempting to mask whatever it was he was feeling suddenly with annoyance.

This seemed to amuse the human. “Did I say that was a bad thing?”

Teeth grinding as he picked through probable responses, Moon replied, “No…?” when he couldn’t think of one that didn’t make him sound like an ass.

“You being a paranoid, bitter jerk is just as important as your brother’s willingness to give others a chance.”

Scowling, Moon tried to decide if he was more annoyed by what she said or the fact he couldn’t disagree with being called a bitter jerk so casually.

“If you both had the same opinion, then you’d either die inside a month when the scrappers fool you into trusting them-–or you’d become recluses somewhere far away so you can rot safely under the weight of your own fear. Of course,” she then added without missing a beat, shoulders shrugging, “someone being cordial doesn't make them friendly, and friendliness isn’t the same as being trustworthy so a discerning eye of skepticism is a pretty useful tool.”

Yet another array of words he felt a need to pull apart, begging at the edges of his active mind to be interpreted as a warning of some sort. I really am trying to find a reason to be suspicious, aren’t I? Never did he think he’d be ashamed of himself for acting a fool for being careful, yet here he was feeling that exact way. “Is it now?” he couldn’t help but mutter, dismissing the hum of her words as they repeated in his mind.

“Empathy without discernment is just as dangerous as naivety and paranoia.”

Shock made Moon’s exhaust hitch as Jenn managed to articulate the exact feeling he’d been attempting to get across to Sun for days now: that Sun’s desire to ‘try’ needed to be tempered with sense and caution-–not that his brother wanted to hear it, of course, being the optimist he was. Perhaps he’d try using these very words the next time they disagreed on how to interact with others in the future? A devious part of him considered the merit of quoting Jenn directly just to add weight to the matter.

In his desire to save this moment for later, Moon had failed to respond, leaving an odd gap in flow of conversation.

Wanting to prod the silence into leaving, Jenn went on, eyes closing; she seemed at ease despite her own words of caution and trust, enjoying the light of the sky on her face. “The fact you both came away from whatever you were dealing with and one of you still has a sense of wonder while the other takes things with a grain of salt is pretty perfect. You two complement each other well.”

You have no idea, the dark bot mused to himself, taking the new lull in the conversation to change his posture, imitating the way Jenn leaned on the rail but keeping her in his periphery as he decided to fold his arms together, the rail pressing into his back to take the brunt of his weight. Overhead, he saw a bird fly by–-it might have been Aquila even, as he gave it a second thought. Ever vigilant, aren't you?

For that moment, watching from the corner of her eye, Jenn saw the tension finally leave the seams of the Moondrop’s face. Arms folded in front of his chest with yellow eyes tracking Aquila as she ran her route over the house, his shoulders sagged just a fraction as the tension eased off finally; even at rest, there was a grace to how he held himself that spoke to his conditioning as a dancer, every panel and coil fitted together in a way that ensured stability and flexibility for every inch of his body. In the light that filled the sky, the small details she’d appreciated in the kitchen shimmered at certain angles, tugging at the soft spot of vulnerability that had been revealed by her little venture on the swing that wasn’t quite fully returned to its safe shell deep in her heart.

“You know,” the words started, rolling out before she could fully consider why she was speaking them aloud, “when you’re not frowning, you’re pretty handsome.”

Immediately her cheeks burned, even before his eyes could snap to her–-but Jenn held her ground against her own embarrassment. If inside thoughts were going to become outside thoughts, she had to commit to it.

Moon being unable to respond made that a bit hard, though, as silence stretched for a heart beat longer than she felt comfortable with.

“What?” she finally barked, the heat creeping back to her ears. “If you tell me you’ve never been called handsome-–”

He hadn’t, but that wasn’t quite the point as he cut in, one hand raised to stall her frantic accusation, “No no, it’s just the last thing I expected to hear from you.”

“I appreciate art.” That was too defensive. She cursed herself internally.

Moon raised a brow, voice skeptical. “Art?”

Jenn blinked once before doubling down on her indignant angle by scrunching her face with mock annoyance. “Yes, art. You’re a well-made piece of machinery, of course I’d appreciate you–-visually.”

Being called ‘machinery’ evoked an involuntary eye roll and a frown, a curt ‘hah’ escaping him as she fumbled to explain her reasoning. You don’t have to justify yourself, he said to himself with an unexpected amount of bitterness. I know what I am.

“You better not be laughing at me.”

Glancing back over, Moon quietly wondered, “What if I am?” in the hopes she’d say something more embarrassing he could hold over her later when she inevitably got under his shell again.

Jenn hesitated.

This gave Moon pause, mouth turning down, having expected a snarky comment to be at the ready. Surely he hadn’t won the battle so easily?

Unbeknownst to the navy bot, the hesitation wasn’t due to lack of having a snarky response. Rather it was her own self-awareness. Threatening to gut him is not appropriate humor, Jenn told herself over and over while scrambling to form another response that was less likely to come off as a legitimate threat.

They did not know each other that way.

He would not believe she was joking.

She shouldn’t be making those jokes in the first place.

Bright eyes really frazzled me, she finally admitted to herself, jaw setting as she rubbed her brow. “Nevermind.”

Though she didn’t make a single step, somehow the act of turning away forced a sense of distance between them that hadn’t been there a moment prior. A wall appeared, invisible but still perceptibly present, slamming down and pulverizing any attempt to inquire further about her artistic tastes. Moon hated these awkward dips in idle chatter; they were the reason he hated small talk to begin with, especially when Sun wasn’t around to patch up the error.

Thankfully, he wasn’t the one being made to mend the bridge this time. Jenn turned back after a heartbeat, nothing betraying any shame or embarrassment in the curve of her jaw or the line of her brow. Yet the wall was still there, keeping him at bay. Moon was certain he’d feel the pressure on his chest if he so much as leaned toward her, an unseen arm extended to force him back.

To his surprise, he didn’t enjoy the sensation.

“Riddle me this,” the dark bot began, intently analyzing every small twitch he could find as he stared down the human from across the figurative gap between them. Faintly, her head turned toward him, gaze shifting to meet his while following his flickering irises as they cycled over her features. “The warnings, the… ‘words of wisdom’,” gesturing a bit with his hand, Moon hoped to push the inquisitive angle of his question to hide the prying part by imitating the hand-speaking habit both she and Sun seemed to have, “if you want to call it that.”

Jenn grunted, indicating for him to continue.

“It’s from experience, I’m assuming?”

She nodded, brow raising as she knew that wasn’t the real question he wanted to ask.

Moon was grateful she didn’t decide to be a smartass right at that moment, but he hesitated a moment as a memory–-a usable memory at last-–surfaced briefly of someone he recognized but couldn’t quite place. A flat, stern voice. Rounded, half-rimmed glasses on a hooked nose. Brilliant, magenta eyes.

“Never offend the host. Do not ask personal questions, never start a topic they themselves haven’t opened, and absolutely do not embarrass them.”

Those words were old, long buried somewhere beyond where the damage had been able to reach and laced deeply into the code that guided his actions through those early days that muddied the line between aware and functional. Why in the world were they coming up now–-?

–-with a fingers-down-the-back chill, Moon fretted a moment if this would be enough to break the expectations of guest conduct. They were observing the laws of hospitality by her insistence after all, offending the host by asking too much of their personal life without cause was a major faux pax.

Yet Jenn had been extremely tolerant of Sun’s curiosity up until now, would it be too much to assume he also had a bit of leniency…?

… Of course it would be, what was he thinking!

And yet he needed some kind of answer to settle his thoughts, even for a moment. Steeling his nerves, the navy bot continued, barely a beat missed in their chat, “Is that why you live alone?”

Blue irises flashed as they snapped to meet his gaze, sharp and a touch defensive.

Jaw set, Moon prepared to be reprimanded for asking something that could be considered invasive and therefore rude–-he didn’t want to, but he would apologize if it meant they wouldn't get evicted. To her credit, she had been far more tolerant of his behavior than most have been up to now–-hindsight made his worry more dense as Sun’s actions became far justifiable when contrasted to his own as they stared back at him in glaring red.

Moon was being a terrible houseguest.

Within the same second of warning, the human’s gaze averted. He almost sighed from relief that she hadn’t snapped at him.

… until he realized she hadn’t actually answered yet.

“I–-” Moon creaked, grasping for a way to correct his transgression before offense could settle in.

The attempt to dismiss his query was stopped firmly by way of a gentle tone rather than a sharp glance, Jenn’s voice somehow stronger in the quiet than if she’d yelled. “If more people were like your brother…” A shaky breath betrayed her inner emotions which kept Moon’s attention in full. “Then I might not be living this way.”

A new tension filled the gap between them, but not with angry, brittle glass like Moon expected. This one was thick and heavy, a dense fog that clung to him as he moved through it rather than disperse at a wave of his hands. Fog that actively wanted to keep him out .

Is she… sad? he found himself wondering, watching her hands squeeze her own arms in an act of comfort. Gently, voice low, he prodded, “What do you mean?”

She shook her head faintly, hair falling over her face enough to obscure her eyes completely. “It’s too late for me. But not for you two.”

What???

Before he could unpack her statement, Jenn’s shoulders stiffened and her head raised, eyes darting to the sky somewhere over Moon’s head through the shock of blue tinted strands. Hesitant but curious, the robot turned and peered up where she was looking but only saw the aurora-–yellow, orange and green-–and a faint dot circling. Aquila again, perhaps?

“Go get your brother.”

Turning back, Moon only caught Jenn mussing her hair back into place as she straightened off the rail, the dense wall of unspoken emotions gone. “Is something wrong?”

A peep answered him, Twii appearing from the rooftop and drifting to the rail where she took a seat before displaying a screen to them: Nightfall approaching.

“Thanks, baby,” Jenn cooed, scooping up the small computer as the alert faded. Cupping the fragile thing in both hands, the pink bot was lifted to Jenn’s face and allowed to bump her facial screen to the human’s mouth, chirping happily.

The exchange was brief, Twii floating up around her mother’s head after just a moment of affection as Jenn moved, but the feeling in Moon’s chest lingered even after they’d vanished from view to “get something” so he’d do as asked and retrieve Sun. More questions remained than answers, but most prominently the one question that had no words he could find at first, brought out by the glimpse of vulnerability between human and machine.

Baby.

Sun’s teasing voice, jabbing him for sarcastically calling Jenn “mom” because they were sent outside.

Jenn’s initial warning when they first agreed to stay.

Wrongness. Confusion.

Humans do not treat robots so tenderly.

They are objects. Tools.

Disposable.

Replaceable.

This is wrong.

Tension pressed down on every joint. Moon shook himself, rubbing his brow to soothe away the alerts creeping in at the edges. Later, he told himself, counting his exhaust cycle intervals to regulate them. Worry about it later. With heavy footfalls, the dark bot made his way down the stairs to the yard to ping his brother’s location, piloting himself in the general direction indicated. Nothing here made sense. She didn’t make sense.

Feeling jealous made no sense. Of a pocket computer, no less!

Yet as he stalked through the underbrush, the whisper of his own voice followed at his heels as words finally formed.

Why can a stardust get such gentle treatment for doing its job but I couldn't get so much as a thank you for doing mine?

Moon’s hands pressed into his face as he stopped, doubling over. Memories attempted to sort out and organize in response to his own inquiry, looking for evidence to support any possible answer, but some were corrupted–-yet that pain hardly mattered in comparison to the burning in his system growing from lack of proof to dismiss his accusation. Please, he begged his own circuits, something. Anything. I don’t care if it hurts, please… something!

Nothing came.

Unzip. Scan. Summarize. Sort. Repeat.

Failure.

Mistake.

Unusual.

Eye sore.

“Naughty.”

The pressure increased, his jaw creaking under stress as he ground his teeth together. Shaking himself did nothing to loosen the onslaught.

Why are words so heavy?

Everything burned.

Closet.

Does anyone care?

Unzip. Sort. Repeat.

Please. Someone.

Closet door.

“You can come out when you apologize.”

Locked door.

PLEASE–-!

//Ventilation obstructed_

“Moon?”

Snapping up, Moon gasped–-he’d been holding his breath. HUD alerts blurred his fields of vision.

Blinking them away, Moon focused on the tall, yellow figure standing between the trees, barely an arm length away. Hands found his wrists and gently pried them from his face, replacing his firm, crushing pressure with careful, warm palms. Concerned teal irises searched his face, coming back over and over again to his grayed, pale yellow ones–-the warm hands folded across the back of Moon’s head and pulled, dragging him the staggering step forward into an embrace just as gentle as the hands that held him.

Moon’s fingers automatically found the back of his brother’s shirt and dug in, clinging, as he pressed his forehead into the crook of Sun’s neck; here, he could feel the soft hum of Sun’s voice against his auditory disk, the vibration pushing away and easing the scratching, panicked thoughts filling his headspace. “There’s no walls,” the golden bot murmured, one hand at the nape of Moon’s neck, the other between his shoulders. “You’re not locked in. I’m here.”

Hands tensing, a bitter thought snuck past the gentle murmur, bringing an image of a door with no handle with it.

Being locked out doesn’t feel much better.

No matter what, locked doors always managed to get in his way.

A gentle nudge against his mental space took his focus off the thought long enough to nudge back. Another came. He responded. Slow, gentle light cycled at the brothers’ pulse points, first Sun, then Moon, each one moving closer by a half beat until they fell in line together, becoming one rhythm. 

//Tidal Lock integrity stabilized_

Moon was tired of locked doors.

~

Something new was in the yard when the brothers returned that they didn’t recognize. Round, metallic and crude, it sat on spokes that kept its belly off the grass, the maw of the basin sealed by a grate made of matching metal stained with traces of carbon and ash. As they approached the odd thing taking up the middle of the lawn, a yell from above made both jump back–-a clatter of wood tumbled to the ground nearby, barely missing them both. Snapping their gazes up, the pair found Jenn and her pocket computers leaning over the patio rail, brows raised with concern.

“There you are!” she called to them, jumping back from the edge of the raised platform. Rapid footfalls carried her down to their level, a faint smile on her face that somehow felt familiar to them both. “Sorry for almost pulverizing you.”

“It’s alright,” Sun replied, hefting the basket of eggs he’d been so careful with until then. “No harm done.”

Despite her seeming to be in a friendly mood, Moon was not, embittered by his own turmoil resurfacing just when he thought he was growing past it. It’s what I get for letting my guard down, he’d told himself one he calmed, realizing he’d nearly fallen into the most obvious trap of complacency with barely any fight. How sloppy. “What’re you doing?” he asked, tone edging on harsh as he pointed at the bundle of split logs that had almost greeted the back of his head a moment ago.

Unbothered, Jenn took the basket from the golden bot and turned to take them upstairs. “You’ll see!” Her gaze flicked to Sun. “Are all the hens still outside?”

“Um.” He thought for a moment. “Yes, I believe so. Most of them anyway.”

“Alright, thank you.” Shifting the basket to her hip, Jenn brought her synthetic arm to her mouth–-with a heave of her shoulders, she let out a piercing whistle that startled birds from the trees and left their sensors humming. Not a moment later, Rukbat came bounding from the tree line, tongue lolling and ears alert. “Coop, now,” she commanded, pointing toward the roost of egg layers. With a snort, the canine took off again, disappearing into the forest and leaving them in silence.

“What is he doing?” Sun asked, unable to keep his curiosity in as Jenn started the return trip to her home.

“When night comes, Ruk guards the coop,” she replied, pausing to peer at them over the railing once more. “He keeps things from sneaking in to eat them and guards the perimeter.”

“Ah.”

Too late to stop him from pressing the matter, Moon grunted quietly as Sun turned on his heel to follow the human up the stairs.

“Can we help with anything?”

At first she thought to decline but at the last second, Jenn waved them up. “Actually, yes. In the kitchen.”

Happy to be of aid, Sun’s pleased smile wavered a bit as he met his brother’s disapproving glare for a brief second from the safety of the platform. Both knew the golden bot couldn’t help himself, and a small part of Moon’s code felt it was the only thing that had spared them from being evicted for his poor manners sooner. As long as they were useful, his attitude could be forgiven.

Hopefully.

It wasn’t exactly his favorite thing to consider, but there wasn’t much to do otherwise, thus the nocturnal bot trudged upward behind his sibling, a mild scowl turning his mouth down as they trailed like a bizarre train into the round bungalow. Under her insistence, both robots were given bundles of foodstuffs from storage and instructed to head down to the metal tub—a fire pit, as she called it—with them. Jenn herself would be down shortly, disappearing through a door at the far end of the hall.

”What do you think’s going on?” Sun wondered pleasantly, setting his bundle down; it clunked dully, the contents settling against the ground in an effort to roll away but they were contained by the burlap.

”How should I know?” Moon responded tersely, his sack also rolling and thumping as he set it down.

“Night is falling.”

The words stuck and buzzed in a way that bothered Moon, yet he couldn’t fathom why. Yes, they were said in an oddly cryptic manner, but that just seemed to be how Jenn chose to communicate. It wasn’t as if they’d never seen the night before, though he could do without the shudder rattling through his supportive structure that accompanied those memories–-just his luck that those weren’t affected by the corruption. Nothing about this was what he’d call normal, but the circumstances bothered him much less than the words themselves.

Night meant darkness for an unknown length of time. It meant limited power, no travel, and being inside.

Why were they in the yard then? What was the plan? Surely they weren’t camping, were they?

Then again…

Sun twitched, his attention lifting to the staircase. Moon followed his line of sight, colored blurs speeding toward them as the resident pocket twins chirped at them enthusiastically—well, Twii, did at any rate. Laa simply stared at them both with typical unenthused eye contact. Behind them, Moon knew their mother would be; she’d changed her clothes, now clad in a flowing pair of slacks and an oversized, brown sweater that hung off one shoulder, its collar long since worn to useless as the stretch of the fabric gave out from being pulled on and off, leaving it held in place by a loop that acted as a halter strap. A hair clip sporting a silver and blue butterfly kept her hair tucked behind her ear, taming the mess of blonde for the time being.

Again, the scheme didn’t quite match. Clearly this human prioritized comfort over cohesion, and with night often bringing a chill, it only made sense she’d bundle up against it; humans weren’t as resilient as they were when it came to temperature. Beyond her mismatched attire, Moon’s eyes landed on what she carried with her: a cloth satchel in one hand, and something large and oddly shaped strapped to her back. For a heartbeat, the dark bot feared she’d brought her rifle with her, but the size, shape and color of the item erased that worry before it could fully form.

In fact, he recognized the shape.

Quick as ever, Sun chirped, “Is that a guitar?”

Moon peered over to his brother for a moment, wondering if his thoughts had slipped through the Lock and found their way out of Sun’s mouth, but the lanky bot didn’t notice as he stepped closer to their host in his excitement. Cool and calm, Jenn’s smile as she set the bag down and turned the strap over her back did little to mask her pride. Clearly she was looking forward to this, her mechanical hand tracing the frets with practiced ease. Odd.

“You’re left-handed?” Moon blurted, cutting off Jenn’s attempt to answer. Both of them looked over at him, Sun turning back to Jenn as if double-checking this observation.

“Sort of,” she mused back, slinging the instrument off and laying it down carefully where it wouldn’t be stepped on. As she did, Jenn took extra care to turn over and flex her right arm, feeling the yellow eyes of Moon still on her.

Covering his embarrassment at the implied subtext, Moon made a faint, throaty noise. “So… what’re we doing exactly? Isn’t it getting dark?”

A blonde brow arced at him. “Yeah, which is…” There was a point to be made, but as her hand swept toward the metal fire pit, Jenn’s gaze diverted from the impassive yet stern Moon to the curious and excited Sun whose head tilted slightly as he waited for her to finish her statement. Wriggling discomfort and realization choked at Jenn’s thoughts, making her feel queasy. “Have…” She glanced between them again. “You’ve never had a cookout before, have you?”

Immediately, Sun replied, “A what?” as Moon’s gaze narrowed in thought.

Hesitantly, the darker brother offered, “... a garden party…?” but the sinking feeling had already settled into the human’s stomach firmly.

They really did nothing, the human affirmed to herself, forcing a faint smile. Pity would fix nothing at this point. “Sort of.” Crouching, Jenn pulled a few things from her bag and held them up–-a string of cured sausages and metal skewers. “It’s way less formal, just people hanging out around a fire, eating food and having a good time.”

“At night?”

Blue met yellow, the caution behind the question passing between them silently. “Don’t worry too much, as long as we stay in the yard we’re safe.” This statement made Sun squeak confusedly. “Ruk and Aquila have night watch protocol and this whole area is dusted with pheromones to dissuade predators. It’s perfectly safe. Besides, fires are more fun at night.”

This Sun agreed with, nodding a few times and musing, “That’s a good point!” but not missing the sharp glance his brother gave him. I’m not doing anything! the golden bot insisted silently, hands up.

Gesturing them closer, Jenn pulled a roll of something else from her bag: a sheaf of cooking paper. Light slowly receded from the sky as the human showed them how to wrap root vegetables and set them under the wood of a fire so they would cook without a lot of attention. She shoved a small pile of clippings into a fold of paper and set it at the edge of the wood pile, fishing for something on the ground. “Wanna be a dear and light us up, bright eyes?”

The brothers tensed for a heartbeat, panicked thoughts bouncing between them at the implication of her request. Did she know after all??

Fretting, Sun asked, Should I just–-?

But Moon pushed back immediately, Don’t! Panic!

I’m not!

Then don’t do anything, we don’t know she knows, so don’t play into it!

But she just–-?

“Here.” Both turned to see a very confused Jenn staring at them, one hand extended toward Sun; a small device rested on her palm they both identified as a lighter, though smaller than the ones used to light the hearths they were familiar with.

A rush of relief swept out of them both to the mental hum of, Oh, leaving them both a bit sheepish they’d assumed the intention that Sun would light the fire himself. Carefully, the golden dancer took the tool and turned it over between his fingers, the edges rounded and made of smooth material that felt too heavy to be cheap plastimold-–except one side that was textured for some reason; a lighter this small wasn’t designed for someone like him to use, the activator intended for the more delicate fingers of a human. Despite being built for grace and precision, Sun knew his ‘lankiness’ and slim features were only relative to his own body. Being taller than the average human, more than once he’d realized their belongings felt awkward or weren’t meant for his use only after attempting to do so; the size difference seemed negligible until things started getting dropped or broken.

He’d long since stopped trying to use human things.

Because of this fact, Sun felt ashamed to confess he wasn’t sure how to use the lighter when he couldn’t press the ignition button-–

Where’s the fuel switch?

Turning it over once again, Sun frowned. There should be a fuel button and a trigger for the spark, but there was only one button. Surely he wasn’t just an idiot; his face burned orange at his own uncertainty.

“Oh,” Jenn’s voice cut in, reaching over his fumbling fingers to press the only button. The lighter clicked, the stem popping out as if released on a trigger-–she pulled it from the base, a long piece of metal coming free that she held out to him. “Have you ever used a flint before?”

Sun shook his head slowly, following the careful instructions she gave on how to hold the device’s pieces, the textured side held up and toward the intended burning agent with the rod pinched between his fingers firmly. To his delight, Sun found the items fit into his grip much better this way, giving him better control over the speed as he ran the flint and strike against each other–-once–-twice-–on the third go, he produced sparks.

“One more time,” Jenn encouraged, sitting back enough to not get caught by a stray ember.

It’ll come, Sun assured himself, having gotten a feel for the exact pressure and speed he needed. Decisively, he gave it another pass, the metal scraping together and shedding red-orange flickers that rained onto the wood shavings. As they spilled onto the waiting fuel, Sun’s gaze pushed his attention to the little lights, his thoughts grasping onto their waning life firmly but with great care as he commanded, Catch, little ones, the mental image of the light growing breaching the line between idea and reality. A fire sprang to life, the sawdust and trusslin scraps smoldering for a breath before the flames licked their way free and began to spread to the other pieces of wood and paper hungrily.

“Good job,” Jenn told him, her hand patting his shoulder before she backed away from the growing heat of the firepit.

Sun giggled to himself, smiling even when he caught the knowing glare Moon gave him at the corner of his eye. Technically he didn’t break any rules or defy instructions and they both knew it-–though if he had, Sun felt too giddy to care as the praise echoed in his head. The impression of her hand against his shell was warm.

Deep evening settled before Jenn was satisfied with their little circle of comfort, a set of upended boxes serving as chairs so they wouldn’t have to sit on the ground with sausages set to roast slowly over the flames and a large tap of water infused with some kind of fruit that the brothers needed to help haul down when they discovered the mag-assist attachment had quit. Despite this hiccup, they found charm in the simplicity and comfort in relaxing after their work was completed; ever the whimsical one, Sun mused to himself about how he might grow fond of this cycle once he gave it a chance. It wasn’t much by any means, but the echo of accomplishment he felt for himself over the last few day-lengths as he learned and worked grossly outshone any feelings of satisfaction he’d garnered from dancing and entertaining others.

Though he did miss the fun of it a bit.

Chancing a glance from the crackle and light of the fire, Sun studied Jenn, tracking the motion of her fingers and mapping the arc of her neck as she listened to the strings of her instrument. Steadily and with great care, she tuned the guitar bit by bit, searching for a change in pitch that satisfied her before moving to the next. The sounds were faint, as she was very mindful to not pluck too hard, but she was so engrossed in her task that the camp had grown eerily quiet. Moon was no good for conversation when he was feeling cautious, which Sun could feel through their Lock without really trying to pry for it. Not that he could blame the dark bot, though.

Night had come at the estate, certainly, but they’d never set foot outside once darkness fell. Not alone, at least. Never beyond the walls of the garden.

Now, they were outside, in the woods, under the Sky-Beyond-the-Sky. With Jenn.

Even though he felt nothing would happen under her watch, Sun knew his brother would only reiterate she was a stranger and therefore was barely better than nothing, thus he’d be unable to relax at all and likely make a fool of himself if pressed to talk. Being critical of his pair wasn’t something Sun enjoyed feeling, but a half glance toward the navy bot showed only tension and a far-off stare as his yellow eyes danced over the shapeless blotches of shadow that used to be bushes in the daylight. A long breath drew itself out of Sun’s chest, quiet but deliberate.

He was doing so good before! Teal eyes returning to the flames, Sun rested his chin on his forearms, folding them over his knees. Maybe he’s still upset from… before. The onslaught of warnings and piercing fear that had flooded his HUD while hefting hens up when they refused to leave their box wasn’t something he wanted to relive, but it was the only way he could figure out what was going on with his beloved brother. Certainly, they could share thoughts if they truly wanted to, but being caught in distress Sun knew was something Moon absolutely detested and would refuse to elaborate on, even if it was for good reason. Yet another thing to thank miss Oinn for, he thought bitterly, catching himself by his own tone.

Yet being upset didn’t feel wrong at the moment. Why should it? he pondered. She wasn’t there to belittle them, to brush off the distress as a ‘learning opportunity’ they should take advantage of so there would be no repeat offenses. For all his feelings, both good and bad, Sun felt deep in his circuits that he was justified in being upset this time.

Miss Oinn–-Vissara-–had punished them both for failing to meet her expectations, be it in performance or attitude. With the gift of hindsight and personal honesty, it was extremely clear that Moon suffered from this far more often than he did–-why, he still didn’t know, but the effects were obvious: being distressed was a sign of a poor attitude, and Vissara did not care for the poor in any definition of the term.

It was even a wonder Moon had the gall to act out like he had been up until now. Maybe he'd finally gone insane?

Sun’s mental musing were interrupted by the trill of tuned strings, a resonant chord drawing both of their attention as Jenn sat up, teeth flashing in the firelight. “There, all set!” A smile drew Sun’s lips upward, a sense of ease pushing out his concern as he gazed at the human female and the way the fire darkened her hair in places while turning it to burning gold in others.

Jenn was not like Vissara, nor like any of the other humans that woman kept in company or invited to her estate for entertainment. Not so far as he’d seen, which was all he cared to know for the moment. Yes, she was harsh at times, and clearly was out of practice regulating and expressing herself to others based on how she switched moods like the wind, but none of those swings had come anywhere close to Vissara’s disappointment or the consequences of inducing it. Being too clumsy, too curious, too anything was disallowed, save for one thing–-

The word would not come to him, but he didn’t need to tell himself that. Sun knew.

Instead he focused on here.

Here, where he could ask a question and get an answer-–no chastising or being made to figure it out for himself.

Here, he could learn about something beyond his base function-–like cooking! And plants!

Here…

Jenn strummed her guitar, playing a short series of notes that made a clear melody, not a single twang out of harmony. Against the warnings about being too curious, Sun indulged himself once more to ask, “How did you learn to play out here?” pausing her attempt to strum more.

In the firelight, the human’s eyes appeared orange yet just as bright as ever. “I picked this up before I came out here.”

Unexpectedly, Moon followed up on his own with, “Was it the same place you learned to forage and make sugar?” Though his tone was deeply sarcastic, clearly not intending to get an answer, Jenn heard him loud and clear.

“Well,” she began, fussing with a tuning key to clear a smudge on it, “live on your own long enough and you pick up all kinds of weird skills and hobbies. Makes time pass faster. I probably would have figured it out eventually had I not already been playing beforehand.”

Seizing the open topic by the scruff, Sun interjected so his brother couldn’t come up with a sassy remark. “How do you find time to learn so much when you work?” He didn’t need to see it to know Moon had rolled his eyes at him for being nosey.

Jenn gave a light chuckle. “I do contract work. It’s profitable with lots of downtime in between that needs to be filled.”

“You’ve still never told us what you do?”

“You’ll find out later, don’t worry.”

Her dismissive tone rang out through the brothers’ minds, stirring both curiosity and concern between them. Sun opted to be hopeful, looking forward to uncovering what kind of work could be done from out in the middle of nowhere-–but Moon felt the nagging, twisting fear return to fill the gaps left in his ability to interpret her words.

Would it kill you to be direct? he wanted to shout, grinding his teeth together to keep the aggression inside. Anything could be the last straw, the thing that cracks the glass and sends them both out into the darkness alone if she gets fed up with his attitude. He couldn’t risk that.

He wouldn’t.

Instead, he bit through a different question to keep from cracking his jaw under the pressure he exerted. “Can you actually play that thing?”

Jenn made an amused sound in her chest, something between a laugh and snort, while holding Moon’s burning yellow gaze. With practiced ease, her hands settled into place on the hollow, wooden instrument and she gave a single strum to confirm their placement–-

–-quick-paced, bouncing and precise, Jenn’s hands slid over the instrument, her nails dragging the length of the strings as the heel of her hand drummed the body, creating a cacophony beyond simple chords. She bobbed her head, beat a drum rhythm, wove sounds from the neck that filled the gaps in chords like a one-person band. It wasn’t a simple show of whether she could play–-Jenn could play and she deliberately wanted them to know that.

Both of their mouths fell open in shock by the midpoint of her tune, Moon’s snapping shut as she looked up at the final note, hair flipping into a mess over one eye; her grin was smug in the silence that followed. After a long beat of time, only Moon managed a, “What? ” that earned a laugh in return. “Hold on,” he went on, waving off her amusement and his surprise, “you don’t get to just whip that out and laugh about it. Where did that come from?”

“You asked if I could play,” she answered back, thumb running over the strings gently so they hummed one after the other.

“Can you do it again?” Sun jumped in, eyes shimmering.

“Probably,” she teased, glancing up behind herself. A cheep drew their focus as the pocket twins appeared, drawn to the sound from wherever they’d been hiding. “Hey, girls.” The pair alighted Jenn’s shoulders, rubbing into her neck on either side. “Come to join the party?” Twii replied, a short affirmative whistle. “Tell you what,” she went on, glancing at the brothers briefly, “I’ll play but you need to dance.”

Moon straightened in his seat, not expecting this turn of the night. There was no hesitation as Sun shot up from his, the excitement in his voice nearly palpable with intensity. “That’s exactly what I wanted to do!” Rounding on his heels, the golden bot reached for his brother but paused for just a fraction as Moon leaned back, preventing engagement. Unperturbed, Sun sidestepped him and moved to the far side of the fire, the first notes of a song pulling Moon’s attention between the two as he struggled to focus on one or the other.

Turning on the balls of his feet, Sun spun over the grass, his radials shimmering and floating behind like a comet tail as he moved.

Jenn strummed and beat a tune that spoke to the deepest parts of their code–-his code. His base function. His reason for being built.

Moon yearned to dance, to twist and jump and float alongside his brother. Everything within him demanded he do so.

But if he did, he’d be blind.

Dancing took focus.

… No. Dancing didn’t need focus, he could do so without so much as a thought it was so ingrained in him.

He simply wouldn’t focus while under the spell of song, the one time where his thoughts grew quiet and left him some sense of peace.

The melody changed abruptly. Sun adjusted accordingly, his movements altering in flow and style within a breath.

Moon wanted to dance.

If he did, he’d need to trust Jenn. Believe in her security, in her willingness to alert them if something came near that threatened them. In the idea she wasn't waiting for him to drop his guard completely.

As the golden bot spun past, Sun’s eyes met his; they glittered with joy and a question to join him. Everything in his circuits screamed to do so.

Moon needed to dance.

~

The strings of her guitar whispered their final notes as Jenn let the last bar hang in the air, her chest heaving despite having barely exerted herself playing. It was hard not to share the fatigue when caught up in another’s energy, and the pair had that in spades as they shamed their earlier prowess she’d glanced through the kitchen window. Guess they were just goofing off then, she mused, feeling dizzy and elated just from watching how Moon could easily toss his brother like he weighed nothing.

Though, she went on quietly while placing her guitar on the ground safely out of the way of foot traffic, to them, neither probably weighs much at all. They were built for each other as a set, it makes sense they’d be calibrated to manage each other physically, too.

A genuine smile lingered as the pair stopped their routine, their cheer infectious even from across the yard. Hugging tightly, Sun laughed and spun his brother around once, his light spokes twirling so they twinkled like starlight. Even the grouchy Moon was beaming, his laugh quieter but no less genuine as he hugged his brother back once his feet were firmly on the ground. It was a small surprise that his eyes found hers from across the fire and his expression didn’t drop into an expected scowl. Rather it softened, still holding happiness and relief from the tension he’d been carrying until then.

That’s what I want to see–-what they deserve to feel, Jenn said to herself as their gaze finally broke off, her heart humming in her chest so much she nearly missed her own stray thought that Moon was even more handsome when he smiled. Thankfully the firelight hid any flush in her cheeks and muddied the heat of her skin from their sensors. Picking up the skewers from the rim of the fire, Jenn called, “Come get some food!”

The meat had been hissing right at the last line of music, providing a perfect excuse to take a break for all of them to eat and calm down. Each robot took a skewer, Jenn passing two to Sun who handed one to Moon as he sat on the box he’d claimed as his seat. One last time, Moon let his eyes roam the edge of the yard for anything unusual, finding only shadows and the chirp of tiny insects, before willing himself to ignore the empty darkness while he had the energy to do so. Meat roasted on a stick of metal wasn’t what he’d consider a healthy meal, but the scent was tantalizingly unique–-the heat was a bit of a bother though, with his HUD trying to alert him to a dangerous temperature and refusing to stop.

To the corner with you, he told the errant warning, manually moving it to the edge of his viewscreen since it wouldn’t dismiss on its own.

Next to him, Sun gave his a testing nibble but his HUD was just as insistent that the sausage link was a hazard. I could cool it down, the golden bot thought while stowing the alert away–-it sprang back a half second later, making him grimace.

“Why so sour?” Jenn wondered, sounding amused.

“The food is hot,” Sun replied, gesturing to his eyes where his HUD would be if she were close enough to see the readings mirrored across his lenses.

“Ah,” she grunted, bringing her own close to her face but not enough to touch it, her lips hovering near enough to feel the residual fire still sweating through the meat. “Yeah, it’s kinda hot isn’t it? But at least it’s thoroughly cooked.”

Conversation sounded more fun than simply dissipating the heat to make the skewer edible, so Sun opened his stashed wellspring of questions while his brother had his mouth full and couldn’t stop him. “I want to say how amazed I am at your ability to play,” he started, feeling Moon’s eyes on him despite facing away. Jenn grinned at him, taking a careful bite of her portion only to balk and hiss about it still being too hot, waving him off when he tried to ask if she was alright. “You… said you’ve played for a while, from before being out here,” he went on, switching back to his original query. She nodded. “How long was that?”

Jenn’s expression switched then from amused to neutral to confused, her eyes darting from the golden bot to her hand, then the fire. “Uhhhhhh,” her voice creaked, earning a peep from Twii who’d settled on her knee once the guitar was gone. “A… while.”

“Afraid to tell us your age?” Moon commented, muffled slightly by half-chewed food.

“Moon ,” Sun hissed warningly, face turning orange from embarrassment. “Don’t ask a woman for her age!”

“I didn’t,” he insisted purely for the technicality.

Jenn coughed an ‘ew’. “Please don’t call me a woman.”

The brothers turned to look at their host whose face was scrunched slightly with discomfort. Both felt a twist of panic grip tight to their cores.

Instantly, Sun’s voice cracked in a fervent apology, “I’m so sorry! I–I didn’t mean to assume–-!”

She waved him off again, tucking the skewer’s empty end under her thigh so the sausage dangled off the side of the box, leaving her hands open. “It’s not like I told you, calm down before you short out.”

“But-–”

She raised a brow warningly. “I’m a she but please don’t call me a woman, that’s all.”

Unable to hide his confusion, Moon barked a, “Huh?” as he tried to grasp what that meant.

Jenn’s fingers drummed on her knee as she tried to find a way to explain. “Best not to overthink it, really. I was born a woman and have all the biological bits of one but being called ‘a woman’,” she air quoted the term, “just feels… weird. She’s fine, they’s fine,” she touched her chin, thoughts straying a bit, “I was mistake for a guy once…”

Reflexively, both brother’s glanced her up and down and blurted, “How???” which drew her focus back to them.

“It was in school when I was wearing sports clothes,” she answered dismissively, scooping Twii into her hands when the small bot tried to poke at the meat skewer while her mother wasn’t looking. “And he saw me from behind, so honest mistake I guess.”

A new topic presented itself so Sun seized it while the mood remained conducive to sharing. “What school was it? Secondary?”

A choked off sound made Sun jump, Jenn’s lips curling in as she tried not to bust out laughing. “It was University?” she answered questioningly. “Wait-–how old do you think I am??”

Sun shrugged, a bit exaggeratedly as Moon snapped from behind him, “I repeat my question.” At his feet, a purple blur peered up at him from the grass, tail twitching slowly. Yellow met amethyst-–he swore the little computer’s pupils dilated warningly.

“I’m…” Jenn paused, fingers tapping as she counted, gaze on Twii for a moment before seeming to go a thousand miles away.

When she didn’t finish her statement, Sun quietly prodded, “Jenn…?”

Focus returning, the human gave a shaky breath and uttered a soft, “Huh?” as she came back to the present once more, blinking hard and continuing before either said anything. “Thirty. I’m… thirty.” She paused for a moment, then added, “One. I just turned thirty-one.”

“Oh,” was all Sun managed to say to her statement, fearing she was upset about the number. He felt urged to assure her, “Well, you don’t look it!” while barely catching Moon turn away in shame at the corner of his eye. “I honestly thought you were maybe twenty!”

She only gave a harsh cough of a laugh.

Turning from his poor conversational skills made Moon break eye contact with Laa as he didn't want to see the complicated expression on the human’s face as she reacted to her own mortality. This gave the small computer the opening she wanted to launch herself upward, diving toward the darker bot’s face with her arms outstretched. The motion alerted Moon’s peripheral censors, triggering a reflexive swat of his hand. Fingers closing on something small and metallic, Moon barely managed to stop the small companion from latching onto his face, earning a disgruntled eep as he held her a safe distance from anything sensitive. “Excuse you ,” he snapped, stalling his urge to chastise the purple blur as he caught the sound of Jenn laughing, now snapped out of whatever state she was in previously.

“Aw,” she mused, Twii launching from her perch to grab onto Moon’s hand in an effort to pull Laa away in a game of tumbling, “she likes you~”

“Really?” he shot back, relaxing his grip so the pair of small bots could float away. “I couldn't tell.”

Fighting back a smile, Sun interjected, “I thought it was cute.”

“Mm-hm,” Moon grunted back with a skeptical brow, deciding to keep the blotches in sight in case they came back for round two.

With the mood alleviated, Sun tapped his fingertips together, debating if he should continue his questionnaire or not. “Um, Jenn?”

“Hm?” she hummed, finally eating her sausage now that it was a safe temperature.

“I’m… sorry.”

She shifted the bite of food into her cheek. “For what?”

Sun’s brow creased. “You… um, nevermind.” It was done, perhaps it was for the best that he not bring it up again, even if her reaction was odd.

But she was sharp, taking only the time needed to chew and swallow before speaking again. “Don’t worry about apologizing.” Sun’s rays flexed and jittered at the edges, betraying his nerves. “I just realized it’s been a long time and was shocked.”

“But…?”

“I’m not ashamed of my age.”

Finishing his portion, Moon wiped the corner of his mouth with his thumb and placed the skewer on the ground by the box so it wouldn’t be stepped on. “It does explain a bit about why you know how to...” Lacking the proper words, he simply gestured around at the house and surrounding yard.

She shrugged, turning her sausage back and forth between her hands. “I suppose the extra ten years of life helps.”

Sun’s thoughts strayed back to the guitar. “Have you been playing that whole time?”

Chuckling, Jenn shook her head, then lifted one shoulder as she changed her mind the next moment. “I suppose, off and on. It’s…” Absently, she turned over her right hand, curling the fingers in as she studied the way light reflected off the white ceramastic before dropping it to her lap. “It’s hard to talk about.”

The brothers stilled, realizing they were straying into potentially dangerous territory without meaning to; Moon battered their Lock with fervent warnings to not press the topic, sensing a faint question already forming in the depths of Sun’s mind. The lanky bot flinched, knowing he shouldn't but unable to stop himself from waving his hand in an effort to get his brother to quit the bombardment. It wasn’t subtle.

“Aaaaaare you alright…?” the human drawled, a bit concerned. The pair snapped into place guiltily, their hands tucking into their laps as they feigned that they were behaving.

“We’re alright!” Sun chirped, sounding strained.

“Your rays are retracted,” Jenn pointed out, gesturing to her own head.

Sure enough, the glowing radials Sun sported were at half draw, a reaction to the mayhem of their Lock trying to contain his natural curiosity. He squeaked, embarrassed.

“Okay, seriously,” Jenn went on, caught between confused and amused at the pair’s antics. “If you want to ask something, just ask. What’s the worst thing I could do?” The pair looked to the ground guiltily, Sun’s rays rippling as they set in further to his head casing. Jenn’s back straightened a bit. “Do you actually think I’d punish you out for asking a question?”

They turned toward her, Sun clipping, “What?? No! Not-–”

Moon cut over him a bit, blurting, “It’s the kind of questions we’ve been asking-–”

Both of them speaking over each other made Jenn wave her hands, her own voice raising to silence them, “OI! OI! Boys!” They silenced instantly, both freezing in place like scared animals. “Sorry.” Sun’s shoulders relaxed ever so slightly; Moon’s did not. “Whatever you’re thinking of, whatever expectation you have in your fancy little heads, you need to hold that thought down for a minute.”

Confused, they both waited for her to continue.

“Have you both been nervous because you think you’re going to offend me?”

Their eyes flashed as they stole a glance at each other but stayed silent.

Jenn bit her lower lip for a moment as she understood some of their quirks a bit better after applying social stress to the situation. “You two are operating on the higher social expectations of hospitality, aren’t you?” Both raised a brow at this. “I have hens for Azil’s sake, this isn’t a gala hall. When I said to use the laws of hospitality, I wasn’t trying to be super strict, just common sense–-you know, like street customs?” They both peered at her with open confusion. “Do… you know the difference?”

The brothers could only shake their heads slowly.

Mouth pressed into a grimace, Jenn stated, “Only assholes throw out people for being rude by accident.”

Sun grimaced at the foul language.

“Especially when they have nowhere to go. Do I seem like an asshole to you?”

No, Sun wanted to say, one hand rubbing his shoulder in shame for making his host feel that way accidentally, however Moon was faster and far more blunt on the response.

“You don’t want me to answer that.”

“Moon!” Sun scolded swiftly, turning in his seat toward his brother.

“I’m being honest!”

Sighing deeply, Jenn’s shoulders heaved. “Alright, that’s fair, I haven’t exactly been the most socially graceful the last couple days, have I?”

“No, no,” Sun pressed, trying to be gentle and buy himself a moment to form a better response. “You… we showed up suddenly, it’s your house, you don’t have to behave in any way you normally wouldn't!”

“That doesn’t change the fact you’re afraid to upset me though, right?”

Sun’s mouth thinned into a line.

Focus jumping between them, Jenn’s eyes searched each of their faces briefly. “Throwing you out for something as small as an unintentionally offensive or annoying question asked in ignorance or to learn would be shameful of me. You haven’t stolen anything, broken something, or hurt anyone; people get upset, that’s just the nature of being alive. No one learns if they don’t push a few buttons here and there and I know for a fact I’m pretty good at pushing buttons.” Her eyes glinted as they snapped to Moon, getting him to twitch before he glared back.

Hand squeezing closed over his thigh for a moment, Sun quietly uttered an apology.

“Quit it.” The words were firm but her tone was gentle, urging Sun to peer up from the ground. “You've done nothing wrong. Don’t apologize.” As he opened his mouth to speak, she repeated herself more firmly. “Do not. Apologize.”

Mouth closing so quickly his teeth clicked, Sun’s face shifted hue to bright orange.

Jenn let out another deep sigh, the heels of her hands pressed into her knees as she thought over everything thus far. It explains why sunshine clammed up and grumpy started playing nice earlier, she thought, faintly recalling the Moon’s lack of snarky comments and how Sun seemed to hold back out of nowhere. “It’s my mistake I wasn’t more specific, for assuming you had social differentiation filters–-I should have been more clear. I apologize for any distress I caused you.”

Another apology. From a human. It was hard enough to believe the first time, even if it was a simple ‘sorry’, but now she was being specific. Assuming the fault for herself rather than placing it on them.

Moon struggled to reconcile that she was being genuine. Humans didn’t apologize to synthetics.

Or at least Vissara never did.

“How about this?” Jenn’s voice was still calm and clear, as was her expression.

Nothing there hinted at hidden malice or the intention to snap back on them, yet the absence of this feeling was almost worse to Moon than seeing the trap laid out before them, waiting to be sprung. It was new. Uncomfortable.

The human pressed on, one hand on her chest in a gesture of openness. “Ask me anything you want, whatever’s been bothering you. If I don’t want to answer, I won’t.”

Neither spoke right away, unsure how to proceed until Sun quietly asked, “You… won’t be upset?”

“Being upset is on me,” she said gently. “I can’t promise I won’t be, but that’s nothing to do with you asking–-and you can’t know if you don’t ask, right?”

Nodding, the golden brother turned his head, asking his brother silently if he had anything to say. Faintly, Moon shrugged, holding onto the faint suspicion he had that this was some elaborate trap to make them say something unforgivable. It had to be.

Though there were so many things he wanted to ask, regardless. Yet he settled for a simple, “How did you know?”

Without missing a beat, Jenn answered, “You’ve been unusually civil today.” Moon’s face twisted at the underlying accusation. “Him,” she added on, pointing to Sun whose rays fluttered nervously, “well, the lights are a dead give away. I’ve already heard him change his mind at the last minute but his rays flicker when he’s nervous so it didn’t take much to figure out he’s been trying not to slip up. I have pretty good pattern recognition.” Unable to form a word, Sun only managed a confused sound as he wrapped his hands over his light spokes, embarrassed and confused that he never realized how much they could betray him.

A few things suddenly made far more sense as he thought briefly back to the estate.

Not wanting him to dwell on his lack of a poker face, Jenn motioned for Sun to speak. “Your turn.”

With a steadying breath, Sun lowered his hands and chose one question that he’d labeled as too risky to ask until now; every joint in his body tensed, anticipating a thousand reactions–-already, his mind found a way to play a false memory of her yelling, purely through synthesizing the shout she’d already made to quiet them. Is it a memory if it hasn’t happened yet? Sun wondered, fearing any of those words becoming reality. But she’s not mi–-Vissara. Jenn is not cruel.

A nudge at the edge of his awareness drew Sun’s eye to where Jenn sat, patient, with her hands still folded on her knees. As teal irises traced the lines between white plates, an echo of curiosity followed. Moon wanted to know the same thing he did, which was enough to bolster his courage.

“What happened to your arm?”

The question hung in the air amid the sound of insects and embers, stretching the silence out enough that the moment of encouragement began to crumble, however Jenn did not snap at them or even frown. Gathering her thoughts, she lifted her prosthetic arm and turned her hand over, studying it as she considered her reply. “I…” she started, voice thick; she cleared her throat, human hand wrapping around her synthetic one carefully. “I had… an accident. Before all this.” She peered up and around, the boys knowing she meant the house.

Part of him felt that she wasn’t going to elaborate on her own, so Sun pressed gently, “How long ago…?”

Her hands squeezed together for a moment, shoulders dipping with unseen weight. “Nine years.”

Both of the bots leaned back slightly in shock, brows shooting up.

It was Moon who couldn’t stop himself this time as he added, “Alone?” only for her gaze to turn from the fire to somewhere between and behind them. Following her line of sight, they both saw the tiny blurs of pink and purple turning somersaults in the open air, unaware of the conversation. The implication cut deeply, past the concern for offending her and the tension of their circuits, pushing out another quiet query as it went, “Why?”

She grinned faintly. If he hadn’t brought his gaze back around as the question left this mouth, he would have missed it-–the cold tint in her eyes, a faint twist to the corner of her mouth-–only hearing the chipper twang in her voice that made her words feel dismissive and teasing. “I work better alone, if I’m being honest. Plus people tend to get offended by my many talents.”

Sun took the bait instantly. “Talents?”

“Of course,” she went on, still using the playful tone. “I don’t just play guitar, you know.”

Withholding his own concern, Moon pressed the matter to keep the ball rolling. “What, can you dance, too, or something?” The way she grinned at him said all it needed to. “You can dance?”

“Is that a challenge?” she mused, rising from her seat and giving a crisp whistle that drew the pocket computers to her. “I mean, it’s been a while but I think I’ve still got it.”

There was no reason to argue her on it–-Sun was too enthused to contain himself at the notion, which was fine for the moment. It gave Moon the chance to think without being scrutinized, Jenn giving her stardusts a command to play something from the music list he’d been shown earlier on. In other circumstances, he’d be paying closer attention to what was happening, but nothing could tear his attention from replaying that look. The way her eyes changed slightly. The rueful turn of her lips as she spoke.

The twist in his deeper system-–his gut-–screamed at him as her voice repeated itself over and over. There was no reason to overthink it, and yet something in him knew there was more-–that she’d changed what she was going to say at the last moment. Somehow, he just knew. But why?

Why did she lie?

Chapter Text

Dishes clattered when forced into their waiting storage spots, the wooden bowls threatening to slide off their shelf if not properly contained; Jenn, arm outstretched, leaped and attempted to shove the jailbreaking tableware back into place but only managed to nudge them with her fingertips. Cross, she planted her knee on the counter in preparation to haul herself up, pausing as a bright yellow arm cut across her vision to stop the bowls from tumbling out. Relieved at the easier solution, she brought her legs down and gave her companion a half-smile. “Thanks. Kinda forgot you were there for a moment.”

“Well,” Sun replied pleasantly, rays tumbling with happiness at her gratitude, “you know what they say about old habits.”

“Yeah,” she agreed, letting him handle the higher up things while she turned to run hot water for the utensils. “Though you really don’t have to stand around and help. The cookout was my idea, I can clean it up.”

“And what would I do in the meantime?”

There was no real answer, not that they genuinely needed one in the comfortable quiet of clean up time. A feeling of brevity and comfort lingered after the bonfire, the images of Jenn’s smile as she turned and spun over the grass burned into the golden bot’s lenses, making him smile in turn. How wonderful it was they had something in common like this! Jenn was full of so many surprises and learning about them was more fun that he could recall in recent memory.

It was a shame Moon didn’t seem to think the same way. Frowning a fraction, Sun huffed quietly, caught between concern and very mild annoyance that as much as he knew his brother loved to dance, Moon turned down the chance to do so just because Jenn was doing it too–-at least that’s how it felt. Yet his brother’s bright yellow eyes never left her as she twirled and dropped in rhythm to the music the small pocket computers generated. Sun desperately wanted to believe Moon was simply tired or wanted to study her style, but the echoes of their argument haunted him.

“ We don’t even know her last name.”

Yes, that was true, but she also didn’t know Vissara’s name. That was fair, wasn’t it?

Shaking his head slightly to himself, Sun finished putting the dishes away and stepped back, turning to see Jenn lay a wet skillet aside on a towel designated as a drying spot. Reflexively, he grabbed a clean rag and the pan handle–-goodness it was heavy!--in preparation to pat carefully until it was free of water while mulling over everything in his head as best he could, his busy hands helping to keep him focused.

Maybe Moon wasn’t being ridiculous and overbearing. They were in a very new situation in a place they didn't even know the location of on a map and they had no access to the global network to check for themselves. Logically, he knew Moon had every reason to be cautious about Jenn–-well, any human frankly. It wasn’t personal. Moon’s fear would extend to any human, not specifically Jenn…

… right?

Of course, the lanky bot assured himself, moving to hook the pot on its holder against the wall.

“Leave that,” Jenn’s voice cut in softly, gesturing to another towel pushed back against the wall of the counter. “I need to reseason it so don’t hang it up or I’ll forget.”

“Reseason?”

“It’s cast iron,” she explained, scouring a smaller pan of similar texture with a rough brush. Briefly she told him how it was different from other metal cooking tools and warned him never to use soap with it.

Thanking her, Sun felt his smile return as it tugged the edges of his mouth up. Now that they’d gotten past the initial wall he felt between them, Jenn was more than willing to explain anything he asked about even if it seemed like something commonly known that he’d be chastised for by staff if he’d asked at the estate. Told not to touch it if he didn’t know what it was. Muse at him that if he didn’t already know it, then he didn’t need to learn it.

But Jenn wouldn't do that.

Jenn is not Vissara, he affirmed, feeling his core hum in his chest while his hands finished toweling the second pan and laying it with the first.

Moon would come around to that eventually. He just needed time.

Feeling a gaze on him, Sun turned his head and peered down, meeting bright blue irises clear as water staring at him with gentle curiosity. He knew without reading the inner prompt that his chromas flared and shifted hue, changing his cheeks to a darker orange under her gaze. “Y… yes?” he wondered, catching the way her eyes darted across his face before her brows furrowed. His hand found a kefin cup on the drying towel to work on that needed more focus as he’d found porcelain to be slick in his grip when wet and easy to drop if one had fumbling fingers.

“It’s not fair,” the human commented, seeming frustrated.

Turning a bit while wiping the inside, Sun tipped his head, rays fluttering as his own brow creased. “What’s not fair?”

“That you’re so pretty.”

Porcelain was so easy to drop when wet.

So loud when it broke.

Jumping back as pieces scattered at their feet, Jenn yelped, hissing as her foot came down on a chunk of broken pottery–-lifting on reflex, a quick look showed no puncture, only a sharp pressure on the sensitive arc of her sole. That mattered less in the moment than her kitchen helper who’d stepped back from the shattered dishware as if stunned. “Sun??” Jenn blurted, trying to find a safe place to approach through the jagged pieces on the floor and finding none. Her attention jumped from the floor to the robot’s face-–her breath caught tight in her chest as she only found gray irises quivering as they tried to focus, their bearer backed against the far countertop with his hands braced as if trying not to fall.

Barely he murmured, visibly trembling.

Again, she tried, “Sun?” but still no response until she hopped onto the table to try and get to him.

Sun flinched, whimpering, “No!” which stopped Jenn dead, one leg off the side of the table.

A flurry of heavy footsteps homed in on the kitchen, burning yellow eyes appearing in the entryway accompanied by a vicious voice that struck Jenn like an open palmed slap to the face. “ What did you do?”

Helpless and confused, she only uttered, “I…” while faintly waving her hand toward the distressed bot.

Without fear of injury, Moon crossed the field of sharp edges separating him and his brother in two strides, shards crunching underfoot in a way that made Jenn’s teeth itch. Immediately, the nocturnal had detected the distress through their Lock-–hard not to when it felt like getting a barrel dropped on his head-–his own shortness of breath matching the shallow, quick way Sun was trying to regulate his own and failing. Unfocused, gray irises flitted across the golden bot’s lenses, seeing something far away. Moon hated even the idea of knowing what it could be.

Movement caught his audio sensor and made him turn sharply, burning anger coursing through the haptic nodes under his shell. “What did you do?” he repeated, voice low and tense.

Jenn, having tried to move across the table again, stopped a moment as she studied him; her own expression read as something he couldn’t process as anything other than fear–-save for worry. “I… don’t know?”

“ Liar, ” he snapped, seeing her recoil. A sick sense of victory washed over him at this reaction–- finally , he’d found something that bothered her. Once more with barely concealed venom, he accused, “What. Did you. Do?”

Everything felt cold. Jenn knew if she reached up now, the back of her neck would be clammy with sweat but she dared not try–-rather, she couldn’t with how her hands tried to shake. “I don’t know ,” she insisted, backing away to climb down the table.

This movement made Sun yelp and dart to the side, stumbling past the end of the table to the small closet door tucked around the cabinet. Both Moon and Jenn moved toward him but the frantic Sunrise fumbled open the door at his back, falling through only to quickly seal himself behind it. Cries of, “No no please–! Not her!” cut off abruptly as the metal sealed itself.

Reflexively, Jenn hopped onto the table to give chase but a cold, iron hand clamped down on her ankle and pulled, dragging her across the papers and exposed wood. With the tug, a seething command of, “Don’t you dare!” lashed at her from behind, the sting of raw skin from her body scraping the unfinished wooden tabletop tearing her focus between the two enough to rob her of a reaction. Choking on her own voice, Jenn felt a rush, then nothing under her scraped knees until she hit the ground. Sharp pieces of mug bit into her arms and ass, making her cry out with shock.

This fell on deaf ears as the nocturnal model placed himself between her prone body and the path to the doorway where Sun had sequestered himself. Wincing as she picked herself up from the floor, Jenn’s body stilled itself on instinct, pulse thundering in her ears as her eyes met the gaze of the robot that had zeroed in on her, tracking every small motion like a predator. A warm trickle of her own blood trailed down her elbow, hitting the floor with a faint plip that would have been more alarming had she felt the cut through the adrenaline.

Blue eyes stared at red, burning pinpoints on black.

True black.

Her back tensed. This was bad.

Fight.

Biting the inside of her cheek, Jenn fought the urge to attack. It burned in her belly and rose in her throat, making it feel like drinking fire.

Tools are available. His center seam lines are a weak spot. One good–

Stumbling, Jenn broke eye contact and forced herself to flee. To run. Her feet slid on the floor as pieces of ceramic lost their place underfoot, nearly dropping her, but she managed to scramble up and out without more damage.

I will not fight him.

Weight slamming into the wall after a few strides, she paused only to listen for footsteps.

Silence.

He wasn’t out to chase. Only protect.

I will not fight him!

Throwing the outside door open, the human wobbled out, catching herself on the railing as cool night air sucked the energy out of her for a moment. In its wake came the heat from within, filling her veins with burning red.

“I will not,” she whispered over and over, holding herself up against dull pain and her years-forged habits. The sting of her cut finally came through as her arm bent with the effort of holding her up, but she felt no need to wince or hiss now. Inspecting the wound, her eyes found nothing of immediate concern; a quick touch determined it had no embedded pieces that needed to be addressed. Using her skirt, she wiped the blood from her forearm as best she could manage. It was cold.

She felt hot. The anger filled every inch of her body, burning from the inside as it begged to be unleashed.

How dare he accuse her.

How dare he deign to hurt her after everything she’d done for him!

How dare he call her a liar- –!

Turning about-face suddenly, Jenn strode back into the house and pivoted left when her body tried to go right–-toward the kitchen-–her feet carrying her into her room as the fire continued to rush her veins and muddy her thoughts. Stay calm. Stay in control. I will not fight him. Calming blue walls and the familiarity did little to genuinely soothe her, but it kept the fear of exposure at bay as she knew she was locked tight behind the doors built to withstand much worse than a single robot’s wrath. It was just enough to be able to focus through the dangerous thought pattern that had begun which begged retribution for the assault–-

Protection, she harshly corrected herself, unwilling to feed into the toxic pathway opening up before her. I am upset, but I am in control. I will not fight him. Things. She needed things. Needed to discard the extra. Snag risk. Unnecessary.

The stained skirt was thrown aside, her sweater whipped off in a swift motion, leaving her in leggings and a sports top. Swirling thoughts of “I will not” ebbed in and out between lucid fragments of raging fire, the actions barely holding meaning at times as she slapped a blood patch onto her elbow, slipped on some thin leather sole guards and clipped her hair back. The air was cooler now without the extra layers but it only served to make Jenn’s skin radiate hotter as she exited the opposite door she came in, climbing the steps to Aquila’s perch with purpose enough the bird squawked curiously at the intrusion. She knew it wasn’t waking time.

Sifting through the paraphernalia around the perch, the avian watched her maker strap a familiar tool to her body, then another. A long piece of wood decorated with feathers and etchings, strung with cord that smelled of animals and oil; she watched Jenn use her thigh and arm to bend and loop the tool into place before pulling it over her head. Along the small of her back rested the other, a swath of animal skin with long, pointy-ended rods that hurt those made of flesh. Chuffing, Aquila puffed up, drawing Jenn’s gaze.

Clicking her tongue in response, Jenn tipped her chin toward the forest. Obedient as ever, the Cygnus took wing and arced down across the yard before canting upward sharply, soaring over the treetops to seek the prey hidden below.

Mother was hunting tonight.

~

What happened?

Moon’s gaze danced in and out of focus for a moment, a sense of vertigo rushing away along with his thoughts. I was putting the fire pit away, he said to himself, slowly coming to recognize the kitchen. Then…

Then, fear.

Sudden, all-encompassing and powerful. But not his.

Sun was afraid. Shards of something on the floor caught his focus for just a second. A broken cup? Vissara was never too keen on her things being broken, if Sun had dropped something perhaps he got scared of being reprimanded?

No.

Where is Jenn-–?

A shuffle made him turn, looking at the door behind him. It was smaller than the others, hardly noticeable behind the stacks of random things littering the kitchen, but he recognized it as the door to the boiler room where the filtration system and water were stored. Something was in there?

Leaning closer, he strained to listen.

A faint sob made its way through the sealed metal, placing him in a chokehold.

//Memory processing-sorting: completed//

/NF_moon00010.sys memories confirmed for review_

Like a building collapsing onto him, Moon felt the files open all at once, dropping him to his knees.

Sun, distressed.

Jenn, over broken ceramic.

Sun flinching from her.

Rage .

A flicker of a code string crossing his vision before everything turned red.

Sun fleeing.

Jenn trying to follow.

His hand squeezing Jenn’s leg–-

Through his fingers, Moon peered past the table legs to the mess where she’d landed. There were traces of blood on the floor.

She did something.

Pulling himself up, Moon placed his hands on the door and leaned in, hoping his voice would reach through the metal. “Sun?” Something shuffled and plopped. A wave of panic jabbed at him but he met it with coolness, focusing on pushing back carefully, quietly humming a nonsense tune. A familiar tune.

The panic buckled before parting, swirling to the edges as he reached for the light that was his brother, song growing louder as he neared the brittle glow from the other side of the door. With a bit of coaxing, the hum doubled up, a half-beat behind his but looping over and over until they were in sync. The light stopped fluttering and jumping, coming to rest in a puddle of yellow and white that felt like exhaustion. A moment later, the door opened a fraction to a pale teal eye peering out. “Moon?”

Tiredly, the darker bot smiled as he moved back a bit from the door to allow his brother to step out.

Sun threw his arms around Moon, his chest heaving with the last few sobs he had in his body; the nocturnal bot braced himself under the weight of his brother, holding him tight until he was able to get himself settled. After a moment Sun finally righted himself, his irises regaining saturation steadily as his eyes raked the kitchen, hands squeezing Moon’s tunic worriedly. “Where’s Jenn?

A sound made the gangly bot jump, the pair looking to the outside door. “Probably there,” Moon answered with mild bitterness.

“Is she okay?”

Not according to my memories she’s not, Moon said to himself, weighing the choice to lie outright about practically tossing the human onto the floor for Sun’s protection. It wasn’t a pleasant feeling to consider, but if he didn’t then he’d have to confess that that happened again; either choice ended with Sun being upset. “I…” Sighing gently, Moon pressed his lips together and looked down, avoiding his brother’s gaze. “I honestly don’t know.”

A gentle hand lifted the nocturnal bot’s chin, warm fingers assuring him it would be alright. “Can you tell me what happened?” Sun asked, not resisting as Moon pulled his hand away.

Don’t comfort me ! Moon wanted to snap, refraining only by a hair. Rather, he flipped the question back, “I was hoping you’d tell me.”

Just for a second, Sun’s eyes darted to the side with a touch of guilt in them. “Um, that…” Face scrunching and rays retracting, the golden bot murmured, “Please don’t be mad.”

Carefully, Moon held his brother by the wrists and kept his voice even. “I’m not going to be mad at you.”

Blurting, “No!” Sun quickly added, “I mean Jenn. Don’t… don’t be mad at Jenn.”

While he was still even toned and calm faced, Moon’s demeanor took on a warning chill, his grip gaining a firmness that belied the danger hidden underneath if Sun was careless in what he said next. The chill touched the daylight unit like fog as his brother inquired slowly, “What did she do?”

Moon’s eyes were still yellow, still familiar, but Sun had a hard time holding his gaze regardless. If he wasn’t careful, those beloved eyes would change. If they did, Sun wasn’t certain he’d be able to stop his brother from following through on his threats. Last time he succeeded it was purely by luck.

This time there would be no witnesses out here to interrupt Moon’s red-hued death march.

“It was an accident.” Pulling against the iron grip on his wrists, Sun managed to free himself when the dark bot realized he was holding too tightly, allowing Sun to tuck his hands to his chest in an act of self-soothing.

“You mean the cup?” Faintly gesturing at the mess, Moon watched Sun’s gaze and posture shift as he processed what he was seeing.

“Cup? What–-” Sensors detected hazards scattered across the floor as well as trace amounts of organic matter containing hemoglobin and plasma that shouldn’t be there. Worry for the self shifted to fear for another, the lines of Sun's face showing intense distress. “Is… is that blood??” A wave of light coursed his pulse points, which snapped Moon out of his laser-focused chill. “Where is she??? Where-–”

“Sun!”

The gangly bot stepped over to the counter to assess the damage, pivoting back and forth on which direction to take as his protocol conflicted with his thoughts, one side demanding he address the blood and the hypothetical injury, the other seeking closure on the topic presented before it was too late. Fully keyed in to hold the human accountable for the problem at hand, Moon’s focus fractured as the white light of Sun’s ether-pulse seared his lenses, interrupting his concentration enough for him to move and block the taller bot from running off in a frenzy. It didn’t seem to work as intended, Sun’s face changing subtly from fear to a touch annoyed.

“Moon, move! I need to find Jenn!”

“ Why ?” the darker bot asked, shifting to keep in Sun’s path when he tried to move around him. “You still haven’t told me what happened.”

Either Sun didn’t hear him or wasn’t in a state to care for an answer, replying with his own question, “Why is Jenn bleeding??”

Sighing roughly, Moon held his hand against Sun’s chest and pressed back when the golden bot stepped forward, the pair now fully scowling at each other. After a beat of time, the darker bot relented, “She landed on the broken pieces,” earning a twitch of concern in Sun’s expression. “Now tell me why there are broken pieces for her to land on.”

Once more, Sun urged, “It was an accident ,” mouth thinning at the fact he was still being blocked from inspecting the outside door where the noise had come from.

“What kind of accident?”

“I dropped the cup-–”

“You don’t just drop things, Sun. Not for a long time now.”

“It was wet and I-–”

Blueish light blinked through Moon’s body, disarming Sun at the sudden display of anger before anything could be said. The rising tone of Moon’s voice hit a peak as he half-shouted, shoving Sun so his back was pinned to the countertop and cabinet, trapped on either side by his brother’s hands so he couldn’t walk away. “ Do you think I’m stupid, Sun?? ” Freezing completely, one hand squeezed another protectively against the golden bot’s own chest. “I felt the fear–-I haven’t felt that exact feeling since–-well, the estate! What do you want me to think??”

Hoarsely, Sun croaked, “But–-”

Yet Moon wasn’t done. “I blacked out , Sun! Is that what you want me to admit??” Sun’s rays retracted fully in shock, his jaw tensing. “You remember what made that happen last time??”

Quivering, Sun bit down on the plastimold that formed his lower lip and squeezed his eyes shut for just a moment. For being so tall, he felt very small.

“Do you?” Moon’s voice was still harsh despite turning his volume down to a moderate level, choosing to back off from where he had Sun pinned as he knew he was being hurtful–-he hated himself for it, good reason or no. Faintly, Sun nodded. “Please tell me what happened, and then we can figure out the rest. I… need to know these things, Sun.” Fully deflating, Moon’s hips hit the table in tired defeat. One hand supported his weight, the other rubbed at his face firmly, feelings of guilt and shame crawling over his shell. “I can’t control that feeling. I don’t even know why it happens. We can only try to… to prepare for it. Because out there,” he pointed toward the door leading outside, “we might not get so lucky. There won’t be other humans to get in the way or any guarantee I’ll stay put to protect you and not go after the person that hurt you.”

Weakly, face buried in his hands, Sun managed an, “I’m sorry,” that he repeated softly a few times. Wanting to reach out, Moon stopped himself, unsure if it would only make it worse after his outburst. He couldn’t handle Sun flinching away from him. Not now.

Once more, he quietly asked, “What happened?”

Pulling his hands down to hug himself, Sun peered up through his lashes; everything inside was coiled tightly like a spring under tension, so much it almost hurt to move. He felt sick. “I don’t remember.”

The truth in this statement gave Moon pause. “What?”

Sun wiped at his cheeks–-a habit programmed in to mimic human behavior. There were no tears they could shed, but they could mimic the actions to imply them so other humans could understand what they felt, as if seeing the color drain from the eyes of another wasn’t clue enough they were hurting. “We were cleaning up, Jenn…” A tremor shivered through Sun’s frame that he had to shake off himself. “She…”

“She…?” Moon was prepared for anything. Especially any little thing that would justify the blood on the floor that he caused, even if indirectly.

“She called me p…” Face scrunched, Sun tried to say the word but only felt his shoulder jerk with the effort. “P…” A slight grunt of annoyance. “P–-ugh! My voice box won’t process the word!”

But Moon knew. Gently, he put his hand on Sun’s arms where they crossed his chest to stop him from trying to speak the word again which urged the golden bot to look up, eyes apologetic for his malfunction. “I know which word you mean.”

“You do?”

He nodded, eyes glazing over like steel. “It’s a word she used on you a lot.”

Head dropping, Sun leaned back on the counter again and hugged himself tighter. “Why can’t I say it then?”

“Because you don’t want to.”

I don’t , the golden bot agreed, hesitant to voice it. Choosing to continue the subject before he could get caught in his own head, he went on, “After that, it… kind of goes white. I heard… something break and my name but I…” Even now, trying to pull the memories up yielded some kind of interference he’d never seen before. “It… felt like I was back there for a moment… that… miss Oi… that Vissara…”

Leaning slightly to try and see his brother’s face better, Moon wondered, “Did you mistake Jenn for Vissara?” in the hopes of filling in the blanks.

Sun’s shoulders dropped with guilt, his voice lowering. He didn’t want to admit it because it didn’t make sense. “I thought Jenn was Vissara…” Moon’s brow furrowed deeply. “Not… I mean, yes, literally. That Jenn said that because she…” He half-heartedly gestured at himself. “And… I know that’s not true but the panic hit me so hard…!”

“Hey, hey, slow down.” Just in time Moon managed to catch Sun’s hand as he reached toward his own head, clasping it firmly between his own. “It’s alright. We’ll… we’ll figure this out.” Nodding faintly, Sun focused on trying to calm himself.

A loud, muffled thud outside the door made them both want to jump out of their shells; reflexively, Moon threw his arm up between Sun and the exit, his eyes darting across every seam in the wall in anticipation of something that never came. Only with a gentle touch at his shoulder did the nocturnal unit allow them both to approach slowly, opening the door as if expecting a monster to be on the other side. Yellow light from an unknown source in the yard glared upward through the darkness, turning the wrap-around patio into a deep mess of shadows and malformed shapes. There were no monsters awaiting them in the night.

Only Jenn.

Even in the pitch dark of night, those eyes were impossible to mistake for anything but hers, vibrant enough blue they almost glowed under the aid of the spotlight at her back–-yet cold as ice. She sat on the rail of the patio, one knee canted up in a sitting position while her other leg stayed flat to the floor; in her hands was something metallic and curved, the edges glimmering in the night with a dangerous energy. A scraping sound like metal being dragged on stone cut itself short as her attention turned to them.

Something was wrong.

This wasn’t Jenn.

… was it?

The pair of Task Managers remained rooted to the spot in the entryway, both locked onto the human that looked like Jenn but unable to comprehend the energy that seemed to surround her as she stared at them with those steady, animal-like eyes. Moon felt danger, just in that small motion of her head–-recognized what she held was a sword of all things-–where was she getting these weapons?? Why was she holding one now?? Sun, on the other hand, tried his best to breach the gap between them but found, to his shock, he couldn't even speak. Clinging, squeezing fear wrapped around his core and his vocal processor, echoes of his white out thrumming in every corner of his mind.

He should speak. He needed to speak.

It wouldn't come.

Silently, the human rose from her seat and moved the armament to a neutral position, not aiming at them but still carefully, dangerously visible. This change in stance turned their gazes down to the floor as a single feather fell from where it had been stuck to her shirt, landing amidst a handful of other feathers scattered across the patio floor.

A bluish mass lay at her feet on the cool metal deck, unmoving, its core temperature registering barely warmer than the night air.

~

Feet hit the ground with a deep whump , the shock feeling good through the burning fire in Jenn’s veins. With quiet, automatic steps she passed the lab unit, now no more than a blackened block of lines in the auroraless night. Determining it wouldn’t be safe to leave the house steeped in shadow with two helpless robots inside, the human passed the entryway and punched a well known code into the panel she could recite without thinking, the external dome lights on the roof clicking on with a resonant hum. Yellow light washed over the yard, clearing some shadows and twisting others into new shapes that didn’t interest her. It would drain the reserve power faster than she’d like, but better safe than sorry.

No darkness, no dangers, she told herself plainly as she moved on toward the edge of the trees, seeking a particularly low branch that had a worn patch that fit her hand perfectly.

The ambiance of day and night somehow sounded both the exact same and incredibly different, always full of a low buzz of insects and grazers but the melodies being subtly different enough with the change in orchestra; new things came out to sing when the old ones went to sleep, but some of these clever night dwelling things sounded exactly like their daylight brothers. From experience, the hunter knew these things were not the same at all.

What daylight gives in gentle hands and warmth the night demands in sharpness and cold.

The unwary and unknowing were prey to the auroraless night and its deceitful denizens, trusting too much in their comfort to see the trap laid ahead of them.

But not this hunter.

Damp ground carried the best tracks, the shallow impressions of hooves and feet impossible to pick out in the scant light yet distinctly shaped nonetheless under careful fingertips. Leaning closer to the ground, the human gave a quiet sniff, catching freshly turned soil and cut grass from something passing this way–-the hoofprint was dried at the edges, too old to be the culprit. Perhaps something smaller? Running her fingers over more tracks, another stood out with dampness that confirmed the recent disturbance.

Three toes forward, one back–-avian. Headed westward.

A faint growl rumbled the hunter’s throat as she hitched her bow up her arm and crept after the winding trail, keeping low as her eyes darted steadily side to side, looking for movement. Nighthawks were a constant threat in the valleys where they’d sneak in disguised as a hen and devastate a coop under cover of darkness, their natural camouflage taking on the patterns most commonly found in local nesting species. They were no mere friendly balls of feathers, though.

Nighthawks had strong legs, being terrestrial by nature, with hollow quills hidden under their wing feathers. These quills were known to shatter under the skin and cause painful rashes that made the victim scratch themselves to bleeding or blister. A bad enough reason to not get too close if it wasn’t necessary.

Nevermind the teeth.

There’s only one reason it would be here, the hunter affirmed when the tracks proved to be heading toward the hen coop. Breaking off the path, she took a shortcut to the small clearing where the hens rested safely in their shed, clicking quietly to call the watchful hound at the door to the edge of the trees. Rukbat’s eyes glinted in the dark, his body going from rigid to confused as he recognized who lingered in the tree line. There were no alerts or signs given that the nighthawk had been near.

Either it never came by or she’d beaten it to the punch.

Climbing into a tree that overlooked the open patch, the hunter readied their bow; Rukbat put his nose down and gave a sniff of the area under her watchful eye. After a long heartbeat, the hound alerted. Ears pointed, a growl reached the hunter just as her eyes found movement in the bushes at the far side of the clearing. A beady, dark eye glinted as it peered around, the pointed head sliding into view with the jerky motions that birds had; for a moment, it appeared exactly like a hen with its feathered neck and clicking beak.

But then it stepped out of the bushes, head picking up confidently. It stood too tall to be a hen, too broad–-a glimmer of quills flashed with what little light there was when it stretched its wings. A coil of whip-like tail feathers brought up the rear, dragging on the ground as it strode forward; they weren’t dangerous to anything but bare skin, delivering a hearty sting if they made contact. Rukbat’s hackles rose as he took a stance at the gate of the coop, growling deeply at the intruder.

The predator stopped, its mocking twitches that imitated prey birds ceasing as it took a defensive stance, wings raising to make itself appear larger and arrange its quills for the incoming assault. It took offense to the blockade of its dinner, a loud hiss leaving the bird’s throat as the quills rattled dangerously; inside the coop, the hens stirred and chirped, dismayed by the cacophony outside.

You think you can steal from me? the hunter mused silently, knocking an arrow and pulling it to draw with barely a creak; a finger brushed the etched line on the side of the bow, helping align the arrow properly as she took aim. Rukbat moved side to side to match the predator’s attempt to flank him, keeping it focused on his copper hide so it wouldn’t notice the true threat.

Breath slowing as she inhaled, the hunter waited for the moment the nighthawk tried to move away again. Rukbat snapped his teeth; the hawk sidestepped, back turned to the tree line.

The hunter exhaled.

How dare you.

**

The weight of cold steel had long become foreign from disuse, yet as she held the curved blade in her hands, Jenn still felt a familiar twitch in her shoulders. Many hours of the same motions, repeated again and again for hours at a time, day after day-–it never really left the body, even if it had been years since the last loop. There were many more effective options she could make use of, but there was something about the personal bond between sword and wielder that couldn't be easily replaced by the flash and bang of a gun.

If something was going to try and invade her territory, she preferred to make sure they learned a hard lesson. Personally.

Hefty and plump, the carcass dragged on the ground as Jenn made her way toward the house, still feeling clouded and prickly. Hunting normally dispelled any lingering anger but this time it was being sticky and stubborn, clawing at her from the inside if she dropped her guard for even a moment. It shouldn’t.

There was a logical reason for what happened.

She didn’t know exactly what that reason was, but no one goes catatonic suddenly without an actual cause–-especially robots that don’t have a predisposition for mental disorders like humans did. Her theories about why they left E’rta were becoming far more solid in her mind.

Yet she was still angry .

I just wanted to help , Jenn said to herself, grip on the nighthawk’s leg tightening until her knuckles hurt. And I got thrown across the kitchen for it.

Was that it? Her ego was bruised from being caught unaware. It was the Moondrop’s fault.

He was protecting his pair, she corrected, gut wrenching. That was to be expected. He was literally built for exactly that.

Those red eyes confirmed it, beyond a shadow of a doubt.

Tears burned behind her eyes as her breath shuddered; she refused to cry. So why am I still mad at him? There was a reason for his actions. Understandable reasons.

The Sunrise was terrified for his life and safety, it would have been more concerning if that protocol hadn’t overtaken the Moondrop.

I understand why it happened, she reiterated to herself, hot tear tracks breaking free to fall down her cheeks in defiance of her will. So why do I want to be angry?

Overhead the air hummed, a familiar golden avian circling slowly until Jenn took notice. “Where were you?” she asked quietly as the cygnus took roost on the tree closest to her maker, rasping a warning.

Something was in the area that shouldn't be, according to Aquila’s feedback gathered from seeking a target to hunt. A predator crossing territory lines to stalk the night, one far more dangerous than a nighthawk. Normally, Jenn would ignore these breaches in her security as most of them passed through without a fuss, but she wasn’t feeling charitable tonight. She had a duty to fulfill.

Angry or not, she still had to keep the pair safe so long as they were under her roof. That was immutable.

Should probably check on them first, she relented, thumb drawing over the edge of the sword carefully. Too much time spent over her door as a decoration had done it no favors; Aquila’s roost had a whetstone stashed away amongst the other supplies kept there for hunting. She would grab it and give the blade a once-over so it could stand a chance should the bow fail.

The night was still cold as ever but her skin had gone frigid some time ago, her core still burning with controlled intensity yet her skin icy to the touch. Staying out would be uncomfortable at some point, but for the moment she didn’t care, dragging the nighthawk’s corpse to the kitchen door and pausing. Faint voices on the other side told her they were present, but she couldn’t make out what they were saying.

I don’t care, I won’t interrupt them, she decided, dropping the feathery bundle on the floor with a loud whump as she half-sat on the patio rail, flipping the sword against her knee so she could hone the edge in preparation for real hunting.

The voices ceased immediately, leaving only the scrape of stone on metal as she concentrated on long, slow motions. She turned the blade to its other side.

The door opened.

~

A horrified squeak was all Sun managed to make from behind his hand, mind jumping to the fluffy hens that were supposed to be safely tucked away for the night. Surely she didn’t–-?! Because he–-?!

Thankfully, Moon was able to voice what he couldn’t. “What the THAKK?”

Sort of.

Jenn stooped to grab the mass by the leg, the motion causing both robots to tense; Moon held himself between his brother and the human, eyes roving from the corpse to the blade to her face and back. With a deliberate step toward them, Jenn’s gaze met his for a brief moment, seething with what he felt was only contempt. For what? They’d done nothing that wasn’t warranted at the time. If she was mad that was her problem.

It didn’t matter what the reason was though, the trembling tension of Sun’s fingers as they dug into his shoulders were enough for him to keep Jenn far away from the terrified robot, even if she wasn’t upset. After the heartbeat of a glare, her focus changed to the kitchen which was still covered in shards of ceramic, now committed to fully ignoring them it felt like. The feathered body she carried hit the table with a solid thud–-Sun’s breathing hitched, then he exhaled in mild relief. Under proper lighting, the golden bot realized this thing was far too large to be a hen, with a mottled green pattern over blue that none of them had that he could recall. Whatever this was, it was close but not a hen.

But it was still dead.

Fragments crunched as Jenn stepped over the mess, unbothered by the pieces underfoot; a flicker of worry urged Sun forward to stop her before she hurt herself but the motion caught her attention. Turning, the bright blue of her eyes made him freeze in place; white static hummed behind his lenses. Curiosity flickered and faded in the human’s gaze; she turned back to the sink, rinsing the hand that held the creature and wiping it on her leggings. In her other hand, she still held the sword.

Unable to stand the tension, Moon asked again, keeping his arm up to stop either of the pair from approaching, “Excuse me? What. The Thakk. Is that??”

Unamused, Jenn turned toward them.

Sun jolted backwards, hiding behind his brother.

This didn’t seem to bother the human as she replied flatly, “Dinner.” With the same gait as before she passed in front of them without turning, pausing only once at the threshold to the outside; her head turned and tilted slightly as she listened and looked for something they couldn't see. The blade was carefully clipped through a loop around her waist, hanging within easy reach alongside a pouch of metal-tipped arrows.

Moon wasn’t pleased by this non-answer, at his wit’s end. “What is wrong with you?!”

Jenn’s back straightened just slightly at this accusation. In response to this–-or from the sudden verbal explosion from Moon–-Sun whimpered, pulling at the back of his shirt warningly. Too little, too late.

“Well?” the nocturnal bot urged, carefully pushing against his brother with his shoulder to guide the terrified bot into the corner furthest from the door.

A stern, clipped response came as her head cocked at the crunch of ceramic under the robots’ feet. “Define.”

Moon’s jaw tensed. The word sounded… wrong. “D… define?? What do I need to define ??”

The same tone, but tenser as if her own patience was wearing thin. “Define the parameters of your question, Moondrop .”

Wrong.

Wrong wrong wrong.

His insides felt corroded, coiled too tightly, uncomfortable. His name didn’t sound like a name when spoken that way. The phrasing felt logistical. Like she was asking a computer to perform a task.

Why did that hurt ?

Stumbling over the confusing array of feelings bubbling up from his core, Moon glanced at the body on the table, mentally latching onto it as a point of reference. “That!” His arm jutted out as he gestured to the mass of feathers. “You stalk off without saying anything and then come back with a dead animal –-” Sun squeaked again, shrinking behind him, “--and don’t say a word without being asked before leaving again?? Sun is already terrified, what sane person throws a corpse on a table and just leaves???”

A dozen nasty things surged through Jenn’s mind, some of them even making it into her throat so she tasted bile and copper. None of them made it any further though. She wouldn’t let them, each horrid, angry word being pulled back into place behind her wall of control with every breath she took to stay in the physical world and not fall into the roiling inner sea forming in her mind. Emotions were volatile and not useful at the moment.

Instead, she settled on a fact. “There is something out there that shouldn’t be.”

Both robots felt coldness drape over them, panic quickening deep in their bodies. It couldn’t be–-?

“Stay inside,” she went on, the edge in her voice fading to an empty order. “I’ll take care of it.”

The door sealed itself with a hiss of air, Jenn disappearing on the other side. With a rush, Sun exhaled, his legs giving out as the whiteness faded as quickly as it came on. Moon braced himself, helping to keep his brother from hitting the ground; grasping the counter for support, he found himself shaking ever-so-slightly, which made his gut twist more than it already was. Through it, he thought he heard Sun’s voice ask a faint question, but he only managed a, “What?” under his breath.

“Why?” the golden bot murmured, finding his legs again.

“I don’t know,” Moon replied, backing away to give his pair some space, thinking over the exchange for some sort of answer. “She was acting very-–”

Sun’s voice cut into Moon’s thoughts hoarsely, “I meant you !”

Shocked, Moon blurted, “Me?”

“Yes!” Sun’s irises were at half color, his face twisted in distress he had trouble articulating. “Why would you ask something like that!”

“Why would I-–” Indignantly, Moon scoffed. “Are you kidding me?! You were practically catatonic, Sun! You took one look at her and–-” He made a faint sound using his teeth. “And how does she respond?” Hand open, he gestured at the table. “She drops a dead animal on us!”

There were words Sun wanted to say, desperate to get his feelings across properly but the reminder of what lay on the table–-the moment of genuine fear and disgust that one of those precious egg layers had been slain in cold blood as revenge for his outburst–-choked him off. The sick welled up again, hard and fast; doubling over, he leaned over the sink basin, feeling the unbearable need to expel everything in his Re_cycle system even though that was physically impossible. This sudden reaction softened Moon’s defenses just enough to stop his rebuttal. Stroking his brother’s back, the darker unit waited until his pair collected himself enough to stand up, saving his concern for this new reaction for later.

If there was a later.

Once he was certain nothing was going to spill out of him, Sun pulled himself upright, trying to process everything calmly. There had to be a reason for what happened. Even if it was a bad one.

Arms wrapped over his chest, Moon stepped back and squeezed his elbows as he fought the urge to double down on his choices. “I…” he started, voice creaking, “I’m sorry I’m not good at… keeping myself together anymore.” Sun’s eyes lifted from the floor to study his brother, brows arched with concern. “When you get scared I… I can’t help but try to protect you. You know that.”

Rays dipping slightly, Sun muttered, “I know…”

“This was… a lot.”

“I know.”

“It’s felt like every time I ask a question, I get more of them out of the answer, if she even gives me one to begin with.”

Taking a deep breath, Sun measuredly offered, “It’s because of what you’re asking.”

“What?”

Squeezing his eyes closed as he calmed more, Sun went on, “She answers my questions because they aren’t personal. Anything about herself she keeps hidden under layers. You’re not going to get anything out of her by asking personal questions.”

Frowning, Moon snapped, “That’s a bit odd, don’t you think?”

Both were shocked when Sun snapped back, “Is it though?!” Pausing for a moment, Sun forcibly calmed himself. “She doesn’t have anything, Moon. Look where we are.” Moon’s gaze raked over the kitchen. “Humans guard their treasures and secrets viciously, we already know that much just from them.” Following Sun’s hand as he pointed in the general direction of E’rta, Moon huffed and nodded. Even there, no one was fully forthcoming about all of their details. “Jenn has nothing of value out here. Not… traditional value anyway. She only has herself, so of course her secrets would be even more protected.”

Moon hated how much sense that made.

“Why do you think she’s alone out here?”

Though he’d asked the same question once already to the human in question, Moon was unprepared for it to be turned onto him by his brother of all people. The obscure non-answer he’d been offered at the time replayed in his mind, with the memory of sad eyes and many things left unspoken. “She mentioned that if more people were like you,” Moon saw the confusion cross his brother’s face, “then she wouldn't be.”

That is not what I thought he’d say, Sun said to himself, almost wanting to smile at what he felt was a compliment but unable to find the energy. “But why do you think that is?”

There hadn’t been a chance for him to properly consider an answer since then. “I… don’t know.”

“People like me…” Sun muttered to himself, lips pursing. “I think…” Glancing over, Sun saw Moon watching him, expectantly. “I think maybe she’s been hurt. By people.”

Moon’s eyes rolled dismissively.

“Think about it,” Sun urged, pushing off from the counter. He didn’t want to let Moon brush off the chance he was misinterpreting something through bias. “She lives alone in the forest with only smaller computers, presumably miles from any town or store on a private network. I think she doesn’t want people to find her because she doesn’t trust them.”

“I’ll agree she doesn’t trust people,” Moon relented, sparking a hopeful grin from Sun only for it to be pushed back as he continued, “but that’s because I think she’s hiding something. Or she’s just a danger to herself and others.”

“Moon!” Sun gasped, appalled. “Why would you say that??”

“Look where we are,” the dark robot quoted sarcastically, arms held up to indicate the entire room. “The middle of nowhere, on no network with a weird human that knows way too much about us.” The confused flicker of Sun’s rays made him add, “Robots, not… us specifically.” He didn’t want to correct that notion aloud, vaguely recalling she’d repaired them once already meaning she likely had more intimate knowledge of their components that a stranger really should. “She can V-program, Sun, that’s not something even regular techs can manage on a whim. They need training for that and I refuse to believe she just ‘picked it up as a hobby’.”

Though he knew Moon was referring to Jenn’s words at the fire, Sun’s mind latched onto something else for a moment that seemed odd. “How do you know that?”

Moon blinked. “Know what?”

“About the V-programming thing. I thought it was a standard practice?”

Stilling, Moon’s gaze dropped to the floor, focusing jumping from one piece of shattered kefin mug to another. Why do I know that? “That… I don’t know.” I just do.

“Then maybe it’s possible she did pick it up?”

Moon scowled, looking back up to Sun’s face. At least his eyes were back to full color now.

“You’ve said it yourself, we don’t know her. Maybe she got training before coming out here?”

“That’s what I mean, Sun! We don’t know! Why is someone with that training out here fixing up broken pocket pals and stray stelli? Why is she hiding so much from us when we can’t do anything to her? It’s suspicious, Sun. She might be dangerous –-”

All reasons fell to the wayside as Sun let slip a frustrated sound he’d been trying desperately to keep ahold of, his rays shuddering as the garbled noise got loose, bringing words he hadn’t wanted to voice along with it in a waterfall of tired confession. “ Why are you always taking the least charitable option with her?!”

Moon stilled, unsure how to respond.

Too late to stop now. Full-hand pointing to the door Jenn had shut behind herself, Sun let his reservations go, unable to keep hold of them any longer. “There could be a very good reason she’s acting this way but you only want to jump on the worst possible option without even considering what she might be feeling!” Balling into a fist, his hand fell to his side, voice becoming sadder. “You used to be so much better at reading people.” Moon’s shoulders dropped. “We used to play guessing games after parties, making up all kinds of things to explain how the guests behaved. You had so many ideas and always changed them when we learned something new. Now it seems like you want only one choice and it’s that Jenn’s some kind of criminal waiting to gut us, weaving an elaborate lie to make it… what, easier somehow?”

Moon’s grip on his arms intensified. It was humiliating, to be told off like this, yet some part of him knew he deserved it.

“How is repairing us and waking us up just to dismantle us later practical, in any way?”

It’s because… Moon’s teeth ground together; he had a reason, but being made to say it only highlighted how absurd it was.

“You used to want to listen to other ideas. But lately it…. It’s… like you don’t have empathy anymore.”

It’s because… Empathy was exhausting.

“Please, Moon…”

Everything in Moon’s body tensed.

“... give her a chance, a real one.”

No.

“This is all my fault.”

No!

“I don’t know why I froze up and panicked but if it’s because of V… miss Oinn, she needs to know that.”

“No.”

Sun’s shoulders squared as he barely caught the low rejection. “She needs to know something , Moon. Hiding these things isn’t helping anyone.”

Louder. “ No. ”

But Sun felt emboldened after letting his feelings go, unwilling to back down for the sake of unstable peace and compromise. “WHY?”

Stance breaking, Moon’s voice pitched and cracked under the flash of his pulse lights, eyes a pale gray that caught the golden bot off guard. “IT’S BECAUSE I’M SCARED, SUN!”

The kitchen lingered in eerie stillness, the blue-white light of the nocturnal robot’s pulse washing over the room rhythmically; the sink pipe rattled as if being shaken. Rays cycling to half draw and back as he thought, Sun reached a hand toward his pair-–he wasn’t surprised when Moon twisted away from him, one hand covering his eyes as he tried to regulate himself alone. Solidarity almost made Sun confess he was scared as well, but that much was already obvious from the last few minutes; it might even make Moon feel worse. Rather, he inquired, “What’s scaring you, Moon?”

Almost. Moon almost gave in to the urge to snap, to be sarcastic and snarky and venomous–-but he wouldn’t let that part of him win. Not against his brother. Not against Sun.

They were all the other had in the entire world.

“Everything.” Moon’s voice was weak and soft, tired from unshared words and burnt out feelings he couldn’t begin to organize. “I’m scared of everything, Sun.”

“Start with one,” the daylight pair insisted gently, taking a measured half-step closer. Moon didn’t react.

With a deep breath, he thought for a moment-–then decided to stop thinking. It was doing him no good. Mentally, Moon stepped back, letting the glass wall that kept him apart from his emotions slide down and separate him from the outside world. Just a few minutes, he told himself. I just need a few minutes to control myself. Flat and calm, Moon let the first thing that drifted by beyond the glass to become words. “We’ve never been outside the estate until now.” Sun’s approaching presence at his side was very obvious–-diurnals tend to run warm–-but the dulled feeling of the glass wall kept him from moving away as it dampened his flinch response. “Now, we’re so far out of the city we aren’t even within the legal boundary of the outer district.”

“That’s… fair,” Sun agreed; his voice sounded muffled.

“I don’t know where we are,” the darker brother went on, barely feeling Sun’s fingers on his shell as the golden bot laid his hand carefully on Moon’s shoulder. “Even the plants look strange. I don’t recognize anything .”

“That’s why we’re learning.”

“ You are learning. I am running my circuits to melting trying to keep you safe so you can learn.”

Sun’s hand tensed.

“Any moment, we could be found, by Vissara or an animal or some other human with empty pockets and bankrupt morals. We know we were being followed.”

Breath shuddering, Sun’s rays retracted. He’d been trying to forget that detail.

“We don’t even know how to cook. We are helpless and that scares me. Seeing exactly how helpless we are with every new bit of information we don’t know but should or need makes me more afraid.”

Pulling his hand away, Sun twisted his fingers together; Moon felt cold–-more than usual–-and his voice was hollow. Pushing his brother to this point made Sun feel dirty and awful but something had to break if they were going to get past this. He was tired of always being the one to crack first.

At least Moon didn’t need encouragement to keep going now.

“I am afraid of what I don’t know. I am afraid of our future, that I made a mistake in even choosing to run in the first place. I’m afraid of what will happen if we go back-–if we’re taken back.”

Me too , Sun agreed, voice failing for a moment.

“I am afraid of Jenn.”

Sun tilted his head, only managing a confused squeak. “Huh?”

“There is something wrong with her, Sun,” Moon explained, voice regaining a fraction of emotive weight as he turned and glanced at his pair, eyes faint yellow on dark scleras. “I can’t explain it but it’s… uncanny. And she’s not being honest about something. I know you want to give her ‘the benefit of the doubt’ like she gave us, but after her ,” his head jerked faintly toward E’rta, “I cannot openly trust someone who hides half of what she says behind cryptic statements and riddles. I am not playing that game again.”

Finally , the golden bot sighed, feeling some amount of relief to have an explanation to put to his beloved brother’s actions. A reason is a reason, even if it wasn’t good or one Sun agreed with–-it made sense to Moon, and that’s what mattered. “I understand… I just wish you’d told me sooner.”

Eyes closed, Moon drew a deep breath. “You’re under enough pressure as it is, I’m just sorry I didn’t keep it together better–-”

A light whack connected to the back of Moon’s head, jerking him from his calm state; Sun scowled at him, lips pursed. “Don’t you dare apologize for not hiding things from me better!”

“Was that necessary-–?”

Palm to his cheek, Sun pressed on Moon’s face so he had to step back slightly, breaking his stance. “Dummy.”

“Sun–-”

Sun folded his arms over his chest.

Huffing, Moon relented, holding his hands up in surrender. “Alright, fine. I won’t apologize for trying and failing to hide my feelings from you.”

An acknowledging smile turned the edge’s of the Sunrise’s lips up, his posture relaxing faintly. “Is… there anything else?”

After calming down behind his wall of numbness, Moon felt better able to sort his thoughts and feelings, even being able to separate the two from each other somewhat. There was one he felt should be expressed, purely for the sake of transparency. “I am…” The emotional piece didn’t want him to admit this feeling, but Moon was grateful he was able to throw that particular part into the corner, leaving only the fact behind. “I am afraid of Jenn, what she can do, what I don’t know she can do and what her motives are.” He didn’t need to look to know Sun was frowning again. “But… I am also afraid for her.”

That wasn’t what Sun expected to hear, his rays fluttering into place as he caught a glimpse of genuine concern in the returning yellow color of Moon’s irises.

“I don’t have to trust her to accept she’s an innocent party in this–-a bystander. She’s done a lot of good for us, I know that, but Vissara has money. Resources. She doesn’t need a tracking chip to find us.”

A prickly, cold sensation crept through Sun’s limbs. He hadn’t even thought of Jenn getting caught up in their troubles that much. She’d seemed so… beyond it. That this place was somehow protected from whatever they left behind.

What a fool he was.

“I don’t know how far that woman will go, or if she’s even trying to get us back, but if I had any money to bet I would be putting it on the idea someone is out there right now trying to track us down for her.”

Faintly, Sun nodded, his teeth biting in his lower lip. He didn’t want to hear this but forced himself to listen to the ugly truth he’d been dodging.

“Every day we spend here is a day we risk being found. We need to leave, Sun. We cannot get attached or Vissara will use that-–”

Digging the heels of his hands into his temples, Sun blurted, “I know, I know! Please… Don’t.” A cool hand cupped his fist, drawing Sun’s attention to his brother’s face.

“She doesn’t deserve that. We need to leave soon.”

Sun’s hands lowered slightly.

“It’s the right thing to do.”

Jenn’s voice echoed back to him, Sun’s memories responding to the words immediately–-Moon was right. They were playing a dangerous game with Jenn as the collateral damage for their screw ups. That wasn’t fair for her, being in the dark about the full truth of the situation.

She needed to know.

Thinking fast, Sun’s hands turned–-

–-gripping Moon’s wrist, the lanky bot pulled in the same motion he turned on his heel, marching toward the door.

“Sun??” Moon barked, losing his footing for a moment; ceramic scraped the floor as he tried to pull free but this grip was firmer than usual.

“We’re going to find Jenn,” the golden bot answered, opening the outside door with his free hand.

“Didn’t she tell us to stay put??”

Sun cast a glance over his shoulder, one brow raised high. “When did you turn into a momma’s boy?”

Agape, Moon couldn’t stop himself from being pulled through the door from the sheer audacity. “Why exactly are we looking for her?”

“We’re going to talk.” Sun’s eyes roved the yard, seeing no sign of the human; he turned toward the stairs, still pulling Moon along.

“Sun.”

“Nope! We’re all being adults and talking! We’re making the first step toward being honest whether you like it or not!”

“Sun!!”

Stopping short, Moon nearly collided with his brother at the top of the stairs, the kind teal irises he knew so well now hard with disappointment. “If Jenn’s life is in danger from us existing near her, she deserves to know why. That is the right thing to do.”

Moon hated there was no way to argue that that didn’t make him sound like an ass.

~

Adjusting to the sheer darkness of night used to be an anxious endeavor, one that made Jenn’s heart beat rapidly enough she felt her lungs would collapse from the humming of her veins. Night sounds used to bring shadows and fear of what made them, keeping her from even a moment’s rest under the snaggled canopy of trees. Used to.

That was a long time ago.

Nine years since she became something less than whole, toeing the line of being human and something… else. Somehow more but also less, left apart from her peers through means she had no say in.

Three years of struggling to find her place in the world after it was ripped away by choices that weren’t her own.

Six years since being given more time, though her fate was decided from the moment she woke in the hospital rather than succumb to her wounds, whether she knew it then or not.

Nine years a survivor.

Atop her pillar of wood and metal, Jenn stared into the open sky and listened to the faint traces of wind that moved the leaves and hushed the night bugs, her eyes trained to pick out the miniscule pinpricks of light within the Sky-Beyond-the-Sky. There were no traces of whatever Aquila had seen, but the human knew this meant very little, sending the golden and brass avian out to check again for clues; they both knew well the night kept its secrets close. For her own safety she took to the highest vantage point she could, waiting out her companion’s return by processing her thoughts properly.

Too many things had happened in too short of a time.

Tearing her gaze away from the dark void of night, Jenn studied her hand; even in the dark with her light mode switched off it was still all too easy for her to see the white material and the way it shined, still pristine after all this time. Well made, she would call it, but could never take credit for the work; no matter how much she modified it, added or took away features, fine-tuned the sensors, tried to make it hers –-it would always be another’s handiwork at its core. A reminder, painful yet comforting.

“ You aren’t even here,” she spoke aloud, looking once more to the empty sky. “I could really use you right now…” Turning away, she took a step across the platform, beginning to pace as her voice became upset. “I know this is your fault. You brought them here-–why?”

There was nothing that would answer.

Gesturing frustratedly, Jenn continued to ramble, human hand running over her prosthetic to find each seam and joint with practiced ease. “Was this not enough? Am I not doing enough…?” Growling deep in her throat, the human unhooked the curved blade from its snap and gave it a swing, entering a stance that her body remembered but complained about holding, having been out of practice for some time. She needed to move. To focus on something .

The dark held no more fear than falling now, the faintest hint of light on the planes of metal more than enough for her eyes to track where the weapon was in lieu of relying on her own instinct. Years of walking through the shadows and sounds of the night numbed her to its dangers; there was little room to be ruled by fear when trying to survive. Now, night was almost more comfortable than day; in a way, Jenn felt more herself when swathed in shadows with other creatures of the dark.

Yet she always missed the aurora when it left, praying it would return soon so she would be less lonely.

Twisting, cutting and lunging in precise motions, Jenn paced the platform as she waited for Aquila’s return, mindful of the blade’s edge and her own footing. I’m trying to do the right thing, her own voice said, interrupting her concentration. And I’m getting attacked in my own home for it.

For good reason, she reminded herself, finding the edge of the wooden flat and turning about face. My pride is hurt, that’s all.

A fickle thing, pride. It wouldn’t be the first time it had gotten her in trouble.

At least they’re alright... Physically anyway.

Whatever had happened to set off the Sunrise she could only guess at, feeling her curiosity and concern bubbling up under the remnants of her anger-–she gave them a shove back to the depths, a steadying breath wiping their traces from her mind. It’s not my business, I was reminded of that well enough. Finishing the form, Jenn came to rest with the blade held at her hip; another breeze caught her ears. I’m playing a reckless game with myself, thinking I could simply tell myself not to get attached and then let my guard down so easily.

Her control was getting sloppy.

I need to be more careful. Proactive. They have a goal and I…

Thoughts of her house, her lab-–the unfinished shell of a robot on her table–-surfaced gently but with force enough not to be ignored. A tremor shook her core, the blade clattering to the ground at her feet as she lost her grip. Jumping back to avoid losing a toe, Jenn hissed as her ankle met the pommel; the sword spun off the ledge and plummeted into the shrubbery below. Too slow to catch it, Jenn hit her knees on the edge of the platform and swore, grasping only empty air. “Draggit!”

She’d have to wait until morning to retrieve it.

Flopping back on her rear, the human hung her head between her knees. After a moment, Jenn spoke aloud, craning back to look at the void above her with distant stars faintly twinkling back at her. “I am out of time.”

A rasp alerted her to her companion’s return, bright magenta eyes cutting through the darkness with urgency-–she’d found what they were looking for. Not in the direction Jenn had thought, however. Guts twisting, her mind flashed to the robots left at home–-sucking a breath, she scrambled to where her bow was hung on a peg over the side of the stand and took the quickest route down she knew.

Something was wrong.

~

“Where are we even going?”

Sun’s rays fluttered, betraying his nerves as he looked back and forth between two trees that should have been familiar but seemed completely different in the dark. Surely he hadn’t gotten lost so easily?

Moon waited for a reply, arms folded patiently while he scanned the area for hazards with his eyes.

After a long pause, Sun finally muttered, “Um… I… figured her equipment would be a good place to start but… I think I took a wrong turn.”

Sighing, Moon shook his head. “Did you forget to plot your route when you came out here before?”

Biting his lips, Sun’s rays retracted slightly.

“Sun…”

“I can find my way during the day!”

Head in his hand, Moon almost missed the faint scratch of something moving along the trunk of a tree; he hushed his brother’s protest instantly, back straightening. Stuffing his hand to his mouth to muffle his voice, Sun stepped behind Moon without waiting for the gesture to do so, his rays dimming as they stood back-to-back between the trees. Maybe it’s Jenn , the daylight bot hoped, eyes peering into the darkness for some sign it was her or that this was just another critter looking for snacks like the last time–-he still felt embarrassed by his own yelp when the fuzzy thing scampered between them, nearly knocking him prone as his heels hit a loose root. The rim of grass and tangled trees in front of him caught his attention first; he tried to take in as much data as he could without any light to help identify what he was seeing.

Which was nothing.

The nothing still made him afraid, shadows dancing in the light of his pulse as it faded in and out–-

“Sun!” Moon barked under his breath, startling the lanky bot as he realized his chest window was beating in time to his inner rhythm.

“I’m sorry!” he whispered back loudly, desperately trying to cover the light with his hands as he scrambled to terminate the program manually.

Glancing up once more as he worked to darken his bothersome light, Sun’s gaze was drawn to a spot deep between the trunks of the trees where low branches crisscrossed like a hazardous staircase. Nothing was there.

Breath stilling, the light faded back on–-maybe he could use this? Same spot.

Nothing was there.

“Sun,” Moon urged, not daring to take his eyes off the surrounding shadows.

The light faded out once again. His eyes remained fixed on the spot in the trees as his mind went elsewhere.

The program was deep in his inner UI–-Sun dragged it forward, running the prompt to terminate the process.

The light faded in.

Yellow-red mirrors glinted at teal from the web of branches deep in the tree line.

The light was snuffed the moment the terminate order finished, taking the spots in the dark with it.

“M-m,” Sun whimpered, body shaking. “M-m-moon…”

Faintly turning his head, Moon replied, “What?” only for the cold presence of dread to lay over him as a deep, low rumble hummed in his body.

The trees themselves even seemed to quake with the sound.

~

Those idiots better not have–-!

Hardened leather only did so much to protect Jenn’s soles as she hit branch after branch with little grace and all her weight, sparing no more time than she could on finding the best footing before taking another half-blind leap across the forest.

I told them to stay inside!

Aquila kept pace above, coming in and out of view as the canopy cyclically parted and swallowed her silhouette. The predator hadn’t simply disappeared when it failed to show signs where she’d searched near the hen house–-of course not, animals didn’t just disappear!--it had changed paths . The scent of fresh blood and an easy meal was too tempting to give up for any carnivore; it had turned toward the house to follow the path she’d made bringing the dragged carcass back!

Idiot!

That one was for herself.

A sudden lurch in her stomach caught Jenn as her foot slipped over the next landing spot; bark scraped up her inner leg, turning it raw through her leggings. She grabbed the width of the wood with her hand, stopping herself from tumbling off entirely and swung back up after with a swift recovery. The skin of her leg burned but there was no time to worry; if she were bleeding, she wouldn’t have felt it.

She’d prayed the pair were smart enough to stay put as told, but Aquila insisted she’d found them wandering the woods near the house–-happening to cross the projected path of the night stalking predator wanting an easy meal. Surely they know better, she’d prayed, only to be met with her own knowledge of how many things they didn’t. What were the odds they’d think about the danger when they’d never faced it before?

Probably none, she accepted, body sailing through the air like a leaf on the wind. What’re they going to do if I can’t get there?

The thought made her hesitate to jump for a moment, time slipping away.

What would she do if she didn’t make it?

They didn’t know that the night creatures didn’t differentiate between organic and non when looking for food, that many a bot had lost their lives thinking the predators of Azil had no reason to hunt them. There was so much they couldn't know in their short lives hidden away in the city–-would it even be worth her time to try and teach them any of it? More than she already had?

I don’t have time, she reminded herself, robotic hand squeezing into a fist. Not anymore. She thought of her lab, of her project still unfinished after years of planning and scrounging for parts.

If she didn’t make it in time–-

Aquila squawked, circling; even from here, magenta eyes glinted brightly.

Jenn shook her head, teeth grinding as she made a throaty sound of frustration. Jumping up, she took hold of the branch above herself–-it bowed under her weight but held fast-–and began to swing to get her momentum back up. Launching herself, she heard branches snap–-her feet landed hard on the next tree, barely steady before she leapt once more to the next lowest she could manage.

Whatever happens, happens.

A distant rumble filled her ears as she closed in on the location Aquila pinned. Her mouth tasted dry and sour.

If they’re that unlucky, there’s no helping it.

Jenn’s gut churned at the thought of what she might find–-what being too late would look like. Quietly, she begged the empty sky, Please don’t let me be too late.

~

//THREAT DETECTED//

/HAZARD CLASS: A_

/PROBABLE DAMAGE RATING: 95%_

/INVERT MAIN SYSTEM PRIORITY?

>No_

Darkness wasn’t supposed to move , yet that’s exactly what it looked like. Back pressed to his brother’s as the only means of knowing he was still there, Moon’s gaze never left the thing that circled in the shadows around them. Glints of smooth hide and faint creaking of joints and roots told him where it was when his eyes couldn’t pin it-–or when his dragged HUD tried to alert him to what he already knew was there. Whatever this was, he’d never seen one before–-not that it said much, given he knew very little about wild animals–-but it was large. Larger than he was.

//THREAT LEVEL: CLASS-A/

/PROBABLE DAMAGE RATING: 95%_

/INVERT MAIN SYSTEM PRIORITY?

>No_

Something long grew out from its muzzle on either side, undulating with each step; panels rippled over its haunches when it crawled over anything in its way, metallic groaning filling the air when it exhaled. It wasn’t trying to hide itself anymore-–if he didn’t know any better, Moon would think it was grinning as it passed, mocking them. At his back, Sun trembled to the point Moon thought the lanky bot’s joints would snap loose and collapse him into the ground.

//THREAT DETECTED/

/TM_sun10300.sys HIGH DISTRESS DETECTED_

/COMMAND: INVERT PRIORITY SYSTEM TM_moon10300.sys_

>NO_

His head ached, making even a quiet word throb behind his lenses, “We have this.” Taking hold of his brother’s hands with both of his to try and calm the skittish bot, he strained to listen for the thing as it circled them. “Take a breath and get ready.”

The alerts kept coming.

//Permission Command denial overridden:

>REASON: P0_command.til

>>Protect designation TM_sun10300.sys_

>>Protect designation DB_sun10300.sys_

>>Protect asset NF10300-M-0900.mem_

/System Alert:

>Manual overwrite can no longer be authorized until threat level drops below minimum class level:

>>CLASS-G_

/RECOMMENDED:

>Authorize NF_moon00010.sys with temporary priority permissions/

Sun only managed a squeak that sounded like a question.

“We’re giving it a little show.” As he spoke, Moon’s pulse lights flickered, a rushing sensation growing from his core out to his fingers, crisp and refreshing to his nerves. If he hadn’t already been focused on the dangers, glancing at his inner and out HUDs for changes that might be unnoticed by his standard readings, he wouldn’t have caught the file attempting to open among the various readings he usually ignored. Tangled between his passive surroundings analyses and the System_State pings he received from Sun was… something. A compressed file with no name that he recognized.

One he’d never seen before, but felt horribly familiar. He’d only barely managed to manually halt the script reader as it attempted to open and run whatever was inside. Now the alerts wouldn’t stop until he got rid of the threat.

Until they got rid of the threat.

This thing had fangs and claws, but they had fire and water.

The air stirred as his light flashed–-Sun yelped, stepping away from Moon’s back and out of his reach. “Moon-–!”

He whirled, bushes scattering as paws ripped through them–-a terrible sound of grinding metal set his teeth on edge.

Burning red-orange eyes charged forward, steel fangs rimming a maw wide enough to take his arm off in one motion–-

–-Moon brought his hands in front of himself, the rushing sensation building under his shell as he prepared to force it at the creature, willing the water that he knew was there to obey his command–-

–-a sharp crack cut through the clearing from somewhere over Moon’s shoulder. Sun ducked down by reflex, covering the back of his head case to protect it from whatever flew past; his yelp cut off as his voice box failed.

The grinding pitched from threatening shriek to painful keen, the beast’s body twisting onto itself–-a wound appeared on its shoulders. Warnings identifying semi-organic fluid flooded Moon’s HUD, drowning out the feed that was already there.

Golden talons screamed overhead, taking aim at the beast’s eyes.

Sidestepping, Moon turned from the fray to figure out what had struck the creature as its yowl cut into a new sound–-a guttural shout from a familiar voice.

~

Shekt, Jenn cursed, hands moving automatically to unsling her bow from her back as she caught the faint glimmer of blue-white light through the trees. The thudding of her heart blocked any sound she strained to find. Her fingers trembled.

Thud-thud. Jenn inhaled, body braced for the branch she’d sighted.

Thud-thud. The arrow notched into place, fingers finding their place with less than a thought on her part. Wood creaked as tension grew, the bow reaching full draw.

Thud-thump. Feet hit the branch, knees slamming into the bark as she steadied herself.

Crack. The arrow flew free, a wild shot.

The next arrow–-

No.

Clutching the bow tightly, Jenn jumped, reaching for the nearest overhang. The predator shrieked, painful and indignant. She’d missed the Killshot in her haste to do something but it stopped the beast’s charge.

Good enough.

Letting go of her support, Jenn felt the wind–-the fingers of gravity pulling on her in the dark–-and a horrible sound welling up in her chest. The night stalking creature yowled, teeth bared at her as it turned its attention from the robots to the fleshy thing interrupting its hunt. Aquila was faster though, her talons spread wide as she dove, metal body driving claw and beak into the softest parts of the animal’s face.

It screeched again, rearing up to swipe massive paws at the cygnus-–the horrible sound tore through the pained screech, Jenn’s body hitting the ground with power and grace. She screamed at the beast, taking a warning step toward it as Aquila flapped awkwardly, disengaging so she could circle back. Once her companion was clear of the enemy, the human charged, holding her bow like a club.

She swung, the tip of the bow making a fluttering sound as it sailed through the air; the predator hopped back a step, one eye bleeding heavily. It stank of metal and oil.

The bow missed–-the animal snapped, feinting forward.

Jenn swung again, bringing the wood down with a sharp crack on the creature’s head; she made a guttural shriek again, not dissimilar to the beast’s. Ears pinned, it tipped its head in confusion, making another sound.

Striking the ground with her bow, Jenn’s shrieking ripped her throat raw; the animal hopped back a half step at the sound, back plates standing straight up on its spine. For every step it made in any direction, Jenn met it equally, gaze boring into the one working eye it had left. She lifted her head up above its, forcing it to look up.

When it didn’t move again, the human cracked her weapon on the ground once more and stepped forward. The predator buckled and turned, mewling submissively as it turned tail into the forest. As it fled, Jenn chased it a few steps to the tree line, shrieking after it like a wild animal.

The territory dispute had been resolved.

The trees’ silence was deafening in the wake of the scuffle, making every tiny sound a thousand times louder. Breath shuddering, Sun picked his head up and looked around for signs of the monster-–had it only been a few seconds? A minute, tops?? The wires and plates of his own neck creaked against each other as he peered around, manually forcing his rays to stay retracted in fear the light would draw the thing back. Everything in his body felt so wound up he’d snap into pieces if he moved too quickly.

Falling to pieces sounded like a relief, come to think of it.

A few long breaths passed, the brothers both swarmed with thoughts and alerts that rattled around between them, demanding status updates, prompting diagnostics, their Lock integrity degrading and needing attention-–neither could focus on any of the buzzing words, their eyes transfixed on the pale skin of the human who’d driven off a creature full of teeth and hunger. She stood out in the dark, white as a ghost and body rigid in its stance but decidedly not in a human way–-her weight bore down on the balls of her feet, shoulders dropped and fingers curled like claws–-an animal barely passing at being a human. A rattling snort from her felt like a bookend to the last few moments, her posture shifting upright as her weight went to her heels. She turned, brilliant blue eyes freezing them both in place before they could speak.

Jenn was furious.

Clutching onto his tunic for some semblance of support, Sun slowly picked himself up, rays sliding into place and providing very much needed light now that it was-–he assumed-–safe to do so; Jenn barely flinched at the sudden illumination, left eye closing briefly against the glare. “H-–” His voice hitched, fabric balling between his fingers. “How-–”

Two moved at once; Sun jumped, Moon darting to him in the same moment Jenn raised her bow-–the cord had snapped in the fray, leaving it a straight piece of decorated wood–-pointing at him warningly. The threat was not ignored, Moon placing himself between the pair with his own pulse lights wavering; holding his arms back protectively, the dark bot made sure Sun was out of immediate danger should she attempt to strike.

The several feet of space between them didn’t matter, now knowing she could move so swiftly should the mood suit her.

Glaring deeply at them both, Jenn continued to raise her arm, the bow pointing into the sky where golden metal and pink eyes circled. Both understood immediately. Jenn’s arm dropped, her gaze breaking from them as she let out a few words that were unidentifiable as anything other than curses, lip curled to show her teeth as she spoke. Every movement she made didn’t look right–-she paced and turned in a way that was too animal with toes flexing into the dirt, legs bent as if ready to jump, feet picking up and stomping with agitation.

Unfamiliar, yet it had to be Jenn, right?

Frustrated, she snarled in her throat, bow whistling through the air as she took an empty swing with it; it couldn’t have touched them, but Sun still jumped, grabbing onto his brother protectively. The bow end snapped to them, pointing dead at Moon’s chest. “ Why’re you here? ”

An alert pinged in Sun’s HUD; Jenn’s voice was coarse, broken and raw, lacking in any real power. She’d run her throat hoarse with the sounds she’d made.

Wanting to answer, Sun opened his mouth but she’d already moved on. He was too slow.

“ The house was safe, ” the bow whipped again, being pointed in the direction they’d come from; for a moment, Sun’s brow furrowed. He swore there was a faint accent to her words he couldn’t place.

Neither had a good answer. Nothing really justified their disobedience in a way that would save them from any punishment coming their way.

Sun trembled fiercely, his body quivering through every joint and inner support structure he had. This was his fault.

“ If I hadn’t come, what would have happened? ”

Turning from the enraged human, Moon wrapped his arms around his brother in an attempt to calm the shaking bot; he didn’t give an answer because he didn’t have one, though he knew readily what would have happened. Playful sparring aside, Moon had never been in a fight a day in his existence–-water or no water, he was in over his head the moment he realized they were being hunted. That monster would have overpowered him at some point, before or after harming Sun didn’t matter.

He knew this. Knew his limits.

“It was my idea.”

Sun’s rays flickered. Jenn’s gaze narrowed.

Jaw tense, Moon squeezed his brother’s hands both in a comfort and a warning to keep quiet. Forcing himself to speak calmly used all of his focus. “I wanted to apologize.”

Jenn spat a word neither understood, snapping the dark bot’s attention to her.

He kept on with this lie. “I want to apologize for… how I behaved before.” She made another rattling huff, bared teeth falling back behind her lips as her expression relaxed a fraction. “I just… wanted to protect Sun.”

Confused and terrified, Sun obeyed the silent command to keep quiet–-on the outside. Internally, he was pounding at their Lock, demanding to know why Moon was lying. To let him tell the truth.

But Moon either couldn't feel him or chose to ignore the pounding entirely.

Moreso, Sun wanted to know what he meant.

What had Moon done??

Whether she believed the fib or not, neither could tell. It seemed to make no difference as she snapped her bow toward the house, eyes locked on them both. Obeying the silent order, they kept their heads down as they stepped quickly in the direction given, Moon measuring his stride so he was between his brother and the human at all times and never less than leaping distance from her. Above them, Aquila was barely visible through the canopy, her rasping voice quick to alert them to where they should go if they strayed even a step off the path. Behind, watching through the trees, Jenn followed.

Neither robot dared look back and confirm her presence. They could tell she was there by the icy stab of her gaze on their backs.

~

It took far too much effort to ignore the roiling, sour taste in her mouth but Jenn kept on her path until they’d returned to the relative shelter of her yard. Vomiting in relief that no one had gotten hurt was the last thing she wanted to do, nevermind she couldn't parse out why she felt so relieved and so angry all at once. They had disobeyed an explicit order made for their safety. Disregarding something like that, ignorance or no, needed to be corrected with consequences. They needed to learn hard and fast what they’d chosen by abandoning their comfortable lives. If verbal warnings wouldn’t suffice, then there would need to be physical consequences.

Something they couldn't forget easily.

A sharp sting pulsed through Jenn’s shoulder, her prosthetic beginning to tremble as nerves misfired rapidly; a crawling sensation like fingers trailed over her shoulders. Consequences existed to teach.

Play stupid games, she told herself, over and over as she broke the tree line and stopped, watching the pair trod over the grass solemnly. For a heartbeat, her gaze lingered on the cube of her lab, the spotlights turning it utterly black at the edges. If they got broken that would be their fault. I could always use the parts.

The sting doubled up. Her arm curled into her side, teeth grinding against the pain come to replace the adrenaline in her body. A consequence all the same for her own actions.

For letting herself be afraid.

Why am I in pain for these fools?!

Throwing her bow to the ground, Jenn let out a sharp half-scream. Both boys nearly jumped out of their shells, whipping around at the sudden clatter. Quick strides brought her near them, though far from being able to reach out and grab them or be grabbed in turn. Both noticed the way her false arm was tucked to her body, how she held herself so it was pointed away from them. Neither dared mention it.

“Do you have any idea how stupid that was!”

The brothers glanced at each other, both pairs of eyes desaturating slightly.

Some strength had returned to Jenn’s voice, just in time to get burnt out again as the words surged out, raging and hot. “Could you not have waited until day?! Or until I came back?!” Sun wrapped his arms around himself, looking to the ground; Moon balled his hands into fists at his hips, staring at her shoulders rather than her face. Both waited for the punishment to come. “Did you think I was being dramatic when I said to stay inside?!”

Faintly, Sun croaked, “We just… we didn't know…”

The anger turned onto him instantly. “I know you don’t know, that’s why I expected you to listen to me! But you couldn’t do that!”

Moon was on her in the same instant, unwilling to defend himself but refusing to let Sun take a verbal lashing he didn’t deserve. “You didn't explain anything! How were we supposed to know if you’d come back?!”

Blue irises flashed to him, sending a prickle down his spine. “Why in Azil’s shell would I not ?! It’s my thakking house!”

“Because I threw you across the dragged kitchen?!”

Sun’s head shot up in shock. “What??”

“There are worse things ,” Jenn snapped back, gesturing at the forest. “Which clearly you need to learn so you can think about how to best use those expensive parts in your head before they’re ripped out of your shell by something that eats ether for thakking breakfast!”

Rage bubbled deep in Moon’s core, begging to be unleashed. “Then why didn’t you let it?!”

Grabbing onto his brother’s arm warningly, Sun pleaded, “Moon, please. Don’t.” It only managed to make the angry bot hesitate a second.

It was still enough to crack Jenn’s focus, her anger tripping on itself as she processed the question. Why did I not let it kill you?

The cynical part of her mind hummed, It’s a waste of quality work to let them get broken by their own naivety.

The logical part chastised her, You missed out on a lot of good stuff by not letting them get smashed.

The image of the scattered parts in her lab made her breath shudder.

I can’t.

The wild shot that failed to kill the beast was fueled not by a sense of justice, but by fear. Hesitation would have killed them. Waiting to line up her shot properly would have been a second too long. She had already seen them smashed once and was lucky they were fixable.

So very lucky.

Broken, scattered, bleeding—

The emotional part whispered, You were afraid to see that.

“Why-–?” Through her own teeth, Jenn hissed the word, her focus off them for the moment as she sorted her wild thoughts.

It wasn’t the sight of them being torn apart. It couldn’t be after all this time, all she’d seen–-that mess didn’t bother her.

But it was them.

They didn’t deserve a messy end so soon in their story.

She didn’t want to fail them so quickly–-

Eyes closed, a slow breath left Jenn’s mouth with the last of her burning anger. The change in her energy was so sharp, it unnerved the already distressed robots, her BPM readings dropping rapidly as her facial signs shifted from visibly angry to neutral. “Why did I save you?” she asked plainly, voice raw once again.

Is this a trap? Moon wondered, mildly disturbed by the rapid change in her emotions. “Yes… why did you bother if we’re so inconvenient to you?”

“I never said you were inconvenient.”

Catching Sun’s gaze at the corner of his eye, Moon felt the words, She’s right , even though they weren’t spoken.

“As inconvenient as it might be to clean up the mess,” she went on, using the word implicitly as a point, “it would be shameful to let you get hurt when I could have done something but chose not to.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

Impassive, she reiterated, “It was the right thing to do,” before turning to retrieve her bow from where she’d thrown it into the grass. Her fingers ran apologetically down the shaft, checking for damage; at least the pain had faded for the moment.

“I–-” Stepping out from behind his brother, Sun extended a hand in a gesture of peace, intending to take this moment to finish what he’d started by disobeying to begin with. However the lanky bot froze as he watched the human take a cautious step back from him, keeping the distance unchanged.

Moon took notice of this as well, how brow dipping slightly.

After a moment, Sun tried again, taking another step to better balance himself. “Please don’t be angry with him–-”

Jenn stepped back again.

Sun’s core fluttered, a creeping tingle humming at his fingertips. Why is she backing away…?

Moon’s hand came to rest on Sun’s forearm, discouraging him from trying to move any closer.

Later, the golden bot told himself, gathering his nerves and trying yet again to express himself while he had the capacity. “ I’m the reason we went out into the woods. It was my idea, not Moon’s–-”

Hissing, “ Sun ,” Moon’s eyes darted to Jenn, gauging her reaction.

“--it’s the truth!” Brushing off the gentle grip on his arm, Sun’s rays rippled and spun, casting light over the grass and trees that would have been beautiful had it not been from distress. “Stop trying to take the blame off me when I mess up-–”

Moon opened his mouth to argue.

Sun’s voice cracked, eyes turning full gray. “--Moon, please , if anyone should be locked in a closet all night for this it’s me! Not you!”

Mouth snapping shut, Moon’s shell felt cold.

“Closet?”

Both turned their attention from each other to the human who stood rigid at the other end of the yard, her head tilted, listening. The tone of her voice was unsettling, more so than the intensity of her gaze already was.

“Don’t worry about it,” Moon said quickly, shooting a look to his brother that begged him not to say more. “It’s… not going to happen. We aren’t there anymore.”

Sun’s hand pressed to his mouth firmly, but not enough to stop his shaking. Over and over he had to focus on manually stopping his pulse light–- why won’t it stay off???-- keeping his focus split between watching what he said and controlling his own bodily processes. Day by day, it felt harder and harder to monitor his own protocol. Why do I have to? he wondered at times, fingers digging into the side of his facial mold. Why I can’t I just… be me?

“Sun.”

He shook his head, fingertips digging into the seam that separated his face from his headcase.

“Sun!”

Watching the Lunar unit attempting to stop his pair from harming himself made Jenn feel sick; forcing herself to wait, willing herself to stay in the spot she currently was, hurt her on a level it shouldn’t. In a way she’d forbidden herself from feeling in years. You are a fool, she told herself bluntly, tearing her eyes away as the Moondrop pulled his pair’s hands down from his head and wrapped the brighter unit in a tight hug. You really thought you could just say ‘I won’t get attached’ and then do nothing to keep it that way? Idiot. You deserve to feel sick. Pathetic. She’d let her guard down, thought herself immune to the need to form bonds with others after so much time spent cultivating her garden of isolation.

This was the consequence of her poor choices.

“ENOUGH!”

Jenn’s voice startled both of the bots out of their mild scuffle, interrupting Moon’s efforts to restrain his brother from hurting himself. Thankfully it also stopped said attempt to claw his own face off, Sun seeming delirious and confused about where he was for a moment.

Lifting the unstrung bow toward the patio, she kept her cyan eyes on the pair and their movements. “Get inside. Now.”

With nothing else to say, they plodded up the steps, slow and defeated. Rooted to the ground, Jenn watched them until the sound of the door shutting told her she was finally alone.

Hot tears burned her skin as they fell, her left eye stinging fiercely until she wiped at it, unsurprised that her hand was shaking. “Idiot,” she said to her palm, swallowing the lump in her throat. “Undisciplined, arrogant… you did this to yourself.” Turning on her heel, Jenn held up her hand to the shadowed door of her lab and ducked inside when the command unlocked it.

Using the equipment would take power, which she was already wasting by keeping the spotlight on. She couldn’t go inside the house though. Not yet. The Sunrise was too reactive to her presence. Once the fear of near death had fully worn off, she didn’t doubt he’d still be working through whatever the episode in the kitchen had been about and that was the last thing she needed. Perhaps the Moondrop would stay mad for how she reacted. It would make everything easier going forward.

“You know what to do,” Jenn told herself, unaware of the small pair of eyes peeking at her from the vent shaft. “Get it done.” Turning toward the table that had the parts on display, now strewn about messily from the ordeal of the last few days, she stiffly took to rearranging them back to some sort of order, the dark hardly mattering. She knew this place like her own body.

Her right eye ached.

“You are my priority,” she continued to murmur to the displaced pieces. “I don’t have time to waste on anything else. When morning comes, I’m getting rid of them.”

Purple eyes studied Jenn for a moment, listening; the temptation to simply float down per the usual stalled only by concern for her mother’s state of mind. Deciding it was not a time to be a brat, Laa chirped loudly in the pipe, snapping Jenn out of her focus before descending so no one would get startled too terribly this time. Faint purple light exuded from the small computer’s body and facial lens, making her easy to see; the light bounced off Jenn’s arm and eyes, tinting them lavender.

“Hi, baby,” the human greeted, voice tired. Laa sat in her upturned palm, tail wrapping once around her mother’s hand for comfort. She peeped. “Shut off the exterior lights please. I don’t think anything is gonna come out this way right now and I want the extra power here.”

Curious, Laa chirped and obeyed, sending the commands to the idle tower console and back as well as an update pushing to the other bots in the area.

Well, most of them.

~

Of all things it could have been, finding a broom among the mess was shockingly easy. It hung on a pin at the side of the cabinets, right near the door separating the water systems from the rest of the house. Sun had seen it for a fraction of a second as he’d shut himself away, running from illusions and false memories. In silence, he swept the pieces of ceramic off the floor, image comparison system picking up on stray fragments so he didn’t miss any. At the table next to him sat Moon, doubled over onto his elbows in thought, gaze fixed on a point against the far wall for some minutes.

Both had noticed quickly they were not followed. Neither would risk going to seek out the human, wherever she was currently.

Tension hummed in the air, words failing both bots despite each having a handful of thoughts to share. It wasn’t until the debris had been fully collected into a pile and a pan laid down to sweep them into that someone finally managed to speak, their voice rough with fatigue. “I hate this.”

Lifting his head, Sun stopped sweeping for a moment. “Hate what?” he asked quietly, barely at a whisper.

Eyes still locked to the wall with a hand on the top of his head as if shielding himself from something, Moon grumbled, “The waiting.” Quiet, Sun's gaze lingered a moment, then dropped back to the mess. “Why not get it over with already?”

“Maybe,” the lanky bot offered tiredly, working at the final defiant line of dust on the floor, “there isn’t anything to get over with?”

The dry laugh was expected; the idea they weren’t about to receive some kind of punishment was alien, more so now than it already had been. Focus ripped from the wall, Moon stared at his brother. “I still can’t believe you’re expecting us to get off easy-–”

“Easy?”

Moon stopped talking, the tired, soft tone of Sun’s voice far harsher than if he’d snapped.

“Maybe,” the golden bot went on, eyes just as exhausted as his voice, “how we feel right now is punishment enough.”

Self-inflicted emotional torment was not something Moon had considered but the possibility had weight enough to it he couldn't argue back. It makes sense, he admitted to himself after a long moment of mulling it over. Why hurt us when we do it on our own just fine? “That’s sick,” he grumbled, watching Sun put away the broom.

“Maybe,” the golden bot agreed, eyes straying to the mass of feathers still laid out on the kitchen table; his shell crawled with discomfort. “But I think I’ll take my guilty conscience over anything else right now.”

Following Sun’s line of sight, Moon studied the monstrous bird with just the slightest bit of curiosity. It was larger than he’d expected a hen to be up close, the feathers colored mottled shades that would blend it into the shrubbery of night quite well when everything was dark and amorphous. Wanting something to occupy part of his mind, the dark bot reached out and carefully unfolded a wing, finding a bit of resistance to it from the inner muscle fibers growing cold; the feathers spread slowly, an iridescent sheen turning them green and purple as they moved. HUD alerting to an unusual texture, Moon’s other hand gently lifted the hollow shaft of the hawk’s quill from the row of feathers, the inky black devoid of any shimmer at all.

“What’s this?” he mumbled, mostly to himself.

Shrugging, Sun tipped his head as he studied it. “Dunno.”

Thumb running up one side of the structure, both bots jolted when it cracked in two suddenly, the tapered end falling to the table as the wing folded back into itself slightly. Careful as ever, Moon picked the broken end up and brought it closer to his face, analyzing the edge where it fractured. “Huh… look at this. Be careful.”

Taking it delicately between his fingers, Sun turned the quill over, brow furrowed. “What am I looking for?”

“Zoom in.”

“I don’t have the same micro-lens setting you do, remember?”

Huffing, Moon rolled his eyes. “Right. I still don’t know why I have different features than you, it’s not like they were ever used.”

“That’s not your fault,” Sun assured gently, able to make out a rough edge to the break that he likened to a serrated knife edge. Handing the quill piece back, Sun watched as Moon spun it deftly between his fingers as he looked it over once more; it made him grin ever so slightly. Show off.

“I know it’s not but… you know.”

Exhaling slowly, Sun nodded. He knew very well that they were not treated equally in any regard, for reasons he still couldn’t fathom. “I… I’m sorry.”

Putting the quill on the table after fidgeting with it a bit more, Moon raised a brow. “Why?”

“I’m sorry for mentioning… the closet.”

Moon felt his back stiffen briefly; taking a deep breath to force himself to relax, he replied, “It’s alright.”

“I wasn’t–-”

“It’s alright.”

Sun closed his mouth, rays spinning. Yellow eyes seemed a thousand miles away as the golden bot studied his brother’s expression, the way his irises flickered slightly as if tracking unseen thoughts. Talking about it was not something either were good at, Sun having learned early on that Moon kept his pain close to his chest and hated having it pulled from him before he was ready, even if it might be good in the end. Forcing those brilliant yellow eyes to gray out hurt too much, even in hindsight. “And…” Moon’s gaze darted to Sun, the lanky bot leaning one hand on the table as if holding himself up from collapsing. “I’m sorry I made you speak before. And dragged you outside. It was reckless and I feel terrible–-”

“You really need to stop that.”

Sun frowned, unable to read his brother’s face as he searched it.

Nonchalant, Moon went on, “You wouldn't have done it if I’d opened up sooner. But you won’t let me take the blame either, so let’s agree to just share for now. We both screwed up.”

Unwilling to argue who got the larger share, Sun accepted this unspecified distribution of the burden. “We should do better.”

“We will.” Sitting back, Moon let out a deep sigh; he looked everywhere but the door, feeling rather than seeing Sun as he moved to half sit on the edge of the table. “We don’t have anyone but each other, if we can’t cooperate we’re going to have a very short life of freedom. We have to agree before moving forward. To listen fully and understand the other so we aren’t bickering all day.”

“In both directions,” Sun agreed, eyes on the floor. After a moment, he let out a quiet laugh. “It’s so weird saying it like that when we’ve always been good about talking to each other.”

Unable to help his own faint smile, Moon mused, “A lot of things are weird out here.”

Both boys glanced over more at the animal carcass, emphasizing the feeling to themselves with a touch of being perturbed on top.

“Should… should we do something with it?” Sun wondered, getting off the table to better look at the thing taking up space where food should be.

“Like what?” Getting up as well, Moon circled the long way around to inspect the far side of the body, running the tail feathers between his fingers and finding them dense and rubbery; for a moment he wondered if they’d hurt should they get whipped fast enough at someone.

Shoulders lifting quickly, Sun turned his gaze inward to pick through info cards he’d stored for anything that might provide an idea they could use. “Well, she brought it here so… maybe it’s edible?”

Fidgeting with the taloned feet, Moon’s mouth twisted. “What would it even taste like?”

“Maybe tik fowl…?”

“Doesn’t everything taste like tik fowl?”

“I don’t think so, but I haven’t tried a lot of it to say for sure.”

“Veggie lover.”

“Vegetables are good alright??”

The pair let themselves laugh together, quiet and warm, while attempting to do… something. The nighthawk’s body was heavy, awkward and stiff, making it difficult to maneuver with the wings and tail getting in the way. Huffing as he shoved it further onto the table, Moon grumbled, “How the halt did she drag this thing all the way here by herself??”

Attention caught by a pink blur of color creeping in through the archway, Sun held his hand up to try and get the small computer to land on him. “Jenn is a lot stronger than she looks.”

“For someone who only drinks kefin, that’s a shock.”

Waiting patiently as the pink unit floated around his hand, observing him, Sun thought back to the hours before everything went topsy-turvy. “You’ve seen the bags under her eyes, right?”

“Hard not to,” Moon replied, pulling the other wing open and finding more quills nestled there to make a note of, building a reference file for himself.

“It probably helps her function to drink so much if she doesn’t sleep well.”

“Or she can’t sleep because her caffeine intake makes her blood a legal stimulant.”

Fighting a giggle, Sun chastised his brother, “Moon!”

“Tell me I'm wrong!”

Chirping once she was done deciding on whether to sit or not, Twii spun in a circle and nestled herself in the warm golden palm being offered, tail wrapping around his wrist. Attention drawn back to the little thing, Sun smiled brightly at her, cupping the small computer in his hands with all the care he would give a fragile vase. She held onto his thumb as he waggled it at her, facial screen blinking an emote of happiness.

Unamused at the quick exchange, the Moon muttered, “Well aren’t you popular?” which made Sun’s face drop slightly and shift hue with embarrassment. Though it was a tease, they both knew it wasn’t a coincidence or luck–-Sun was simply easier to get along with, even before Moon had gotten a snappy attitude. Guests always gravitated toward the radiant bot, so it made sense in some way he’d be able to get along with other models as well, even the little ones, with minimal effort. Because of this, Sun always felt a thin layer of something else to the tease that he couldn't be sure was truly there or not; Moon being jealous wasn’t a secret, he could just never be fully certain when his brother was teasing normally and when he was passively venting his frustrations.

Realizing he had an opportunity literally at his fingertips, Sun peered down at the pink computer and inquired sweetly, “Excuse me, can you maybe do us a favor?” Twii chirped happily at him, lens flashing as she registered a command. “Do you know what this is?” Holding the stardust toward the bird’s body, she hummed, standing up on tiptoe to peek over his fingertips.

Moon stepped back from the body to let the small thing have a proper view without getting in the way; he only managed a half step before Twii chirped, both bots receiving a file upload prompt. Sun uttered a quiet, “Oh!” as he accepted the transfer, the info log opening and sorting itself into his referral system automatically.

“Well, that makes it a lot easier,” he heard Moon say under his breath, yellow eyes unfocused as he turned inward to read the log himself.

“Thank you!” Sun told the small computer before giving his focus to the file as well. “A nighthawk…?”

Moon grunted in confirmation before adding, “Apparently they do, in fact, taste like tik fowl.”

“Huh??” Scrolling down, Sun found an addendum to the file regarding preparation methods and recipes for nighthawk meat that mirrored those used for most avian dishes he was familiar with. An uncomfortable twinge in the back of his head made Sun turn away from the preparation notes, eyes lingering on the feathered hide once they came back into focus. I feel like an idiot, he thought, jaw tensing briefly. I know meat comes from animals I just… never thought about how that worked until now.

Unaware of his brother’s thought train, Moon read off the file matter-of-factly. “These things hunt other birds like burta and signita at night.” Sun turned his attention to Moon, gut churning. “They sneak in looking like a rooster and… well…” Knowing saying anything more would likely upset the soft-hearted bot after his initial reaction to the body on the porch, Moon decided to not finish the statement and spare them both the messy details.

Looking back at the mass of feathers, Sun frowned. “Evil.”

Moon snorted. “Not evil. Just hungry.”

“Is that what you’d call that… that thing?”

Closing the file for the time being, it took a moment for Moon to understand what Sun was talking about, finding his brother’s eyes locked on the door to the outside. The real answer wouldn’t be one Sun would like but Moon wasn’t about to lie after just promising openness, even if it could affect their survival odds in the end. “Technically, yes.”

Brow furrowed, Sun tucked the pink computer to his chest. “Really?”

Shrugging slightly, Moon folded his arms in front of his chest. “It’s an animal, Sun. Yes, it was… terrifying at the time,” the pair both shivered as their respective memories flashed through their minds, “but… I’m not going to call it evil for trying to survive. That’s ridiculous.”

Sun dropped his gaze, wanting to disagree though he didn’t have a good reason to.

But Moon already felt the resistance in their Lock and pressed on, “Being evil means having an idea of what ‘good’ is. That requires morality and animals don’t have that. They’re just trying to make it to the next day. Humans though,” Moon’s voice edged to ice for a beat, getting Sun’s attention, “they do have morality. They understand right and wrong and actively choose to ignore it.”

Quietly, Sun corrected, “Not all humans.” 

Catching himself before he could stray too far into negativity, Moon hesitantly agreed, “Not all humans,” only to save them from another argument so soon after their last.

They were fighting far too much for his liking lately. Sun was already at his wit’s end with it. He could let this one go.

Suddenly, Sun stood straight and huffed, eyes determined; Twii flew from his grip and chirped curiously, lingering near his shoulder. “Okay then! I’ve decided!”

Baffled and the sudden tone change, Moon wondered, “Decided what??”

“We’re gonna make dinner for Jenn!”

“... what?”

Turning to the stardust, Sun politely entreated while gesturing at the nighthawk, “Would you be able to find us instructions on preparing this for eating?”

“Where’s this coming from?”

While the pocket computer sifted the network for an answer, Sun squared his shoulders. “Jenn is probably exhausted after what happened and we know she didn’t sleep well because she has bags under her eyes, so we’re going to apologize for being dumb by making her dinner.”

Moon stared questioningly, feeling there was another answer being left unspoken. “Do you even know how to cook?”

After a moment, Sun replied, “No, but–-”

“I knew it.”

“--I can learn! You made dinner once so I can figure it out, too!”

“I had help, and didn’t do much except chop vegetables.”

Cheeping, Twii presented them with an instructional video on preparing a bird carcass for beginners. She seemed pleased with herself.

Quietly pleading with his eyes, Sun insisted. “Please, Moon? It’s the least we can do, and it’s a better apology than ignoring what happened entirely.”

Rolling his own eyes, Moon groaned, “With the dragged please…” Making the mistake of glancing at Sun only to get caught by the hopeful shine in his eyes, the dark bot groaned. “Alright, fine! Quit making that face at me.”

Elated, Sun hugged his brother tight.

~

“Of course.”

Sighing as she sat back in her chair, Jenn lifted the goggles from her face to rub her nose where the bridge piece had left a slight impression. The tools spread out across her desk sat quietly, lit only by the single lamp braced to the far corner to help conserve power; beside her sat her purple companion, Laa, who observed everything with mild disinterest. Across the desk were a scattering of contraptions and tools used for the careful handling and manipulation of delicate materials, of which a small chunk sat in a vial suspended over a burner. Barely the size of her pinkie bone, the white crystal-like shard shimmered with opalescent light in such a way it couldn’t be from the desk lamp alone.

Naturally, it wasn’t. Among its many bizarre properties, self-contained luminescence was the least concerning and best known of cyberite given it was the first trait noticed when a vein opened up. Under proper conditions, this shimmering light would leech into the liquid solution and imbue it with some of the other properties the ore was known for–-after being refined, of course.

“Whaddya think?” Jenn asked aloud to her tiny computer as she rested her aching back against her chair. “Can’t refine it, so maybe upping the salination would do something?”

"Aa," Laa cheeped, staring at her mother for a long moment as her facial indicator blinked steadily.

Watching with curious eyes for just as long, Jenn sighed. “Yeah, you’re right. If it were that easy it would’ve been done by now.” A thought striking her, the human got up and moved to her cluttered bookshelf, picking over it for a specific folder of notes to bring back. “Maybe if I adjust the temperature…? Hm…”

Sitting back down with her thoughts, Jenn placed the file on her desk in a clear space before reaching to the side of the desk and pulling a long shaft of metal onto her lap; pristine white and chrome marred by a few scratches here and there, the rifle sat neatly across her legs, cold and heavy. “No, I need to make it work at nullence * so that defeats the point.” Hefting the weapon up, she slid her goggles back into place and popped open a panel on the side that revealed an array of nodes and wires within the body of the gun with a tangle of white tubes running about through the mess. Taking a moment to plug and connect a few things together, the human made a circuit that ran from the rifle’s heart to the vial and back, then set one of the devices to run and waited for it to warm up. “Of course it’s meant to use etherylle, so getting any yield from raw cyberite is gonna be a chore but like I said I can’t refine it myself and getting ahold of the stuff is… well… expensive. If I can get it to efficiently extract a charge from the unrefined ore then I can make better use of it more often.”

Laa’s tail dipped over the edge of the desk, signal node pulsing purple as she felt a nudge from her sister in the network. How odd.

“Might as well see what happens, right? Even failing is something.”

The stardust peeped, agreeing.

While waiting for the process to warm up, Jenn’s attention began to drift as her eyes glanced over the whiteboard filled with notes and voracious scribbles made in a flurry of anger that overtook her when she took too long to drag her equipment out. Twisted red letters spelled out a variety of insults that felt cathartic in the moment but now only made her mouth taste metallic with shame.

Idiot.

Fool.

Needy.

Bitter.

Far more colorful ones she didn’t want to read back in between those. Drawing a breath and shoving her goggles up once again, the human stood from her seat and began to wipe the nasty self-admonishing words away, taking her previous notes and calculations with it. They weren’t important anymore at least.

It’s better they don’t like me, she told herself plainly, raised on her toes to reach the edges of the board. They can hate me, even. It’ll make saying goodbye easier. The thought of such made her hand quiver for a moment which in turn set her teeth on edge; she braced for a twinge of pain but none came. I don’t like how short that last episode was. This is weird.

Sealing herself away rather than follow the disheartened bots served two purposes in the moment: cutting off her avenue to berate them further when they already felt lower than dirt, and to give her space to handle the wave of pain that had flared up, causing her arm to spasm. It was to her mild surprise and discomfort that the numbing anger never gave way to more than a mild tingle after.

Maybe, she’d reasoned after clearing her head, it’s because the aurora’s gone?

That was silly, as it had never mattered before whether it was day or night.

Really hope I didn’t burn up some bizarre bit of luck then.

Rather than dwell on it, Jenn set about occupying herself with her work, at least what she could manage with the generator offline for the time being. Back up power was a limited resource and using it like she had been was already a strike to her common sense. She needed something though, or her thoughts would get away from her and that would likely end worse than just angry marker scribbles.

There was no helping it this time though, as the intrusive words were less her own thoughts and more the voices of her wayward guests.

“Then why didn’t you let it?”

Swallowing the taste away, Jenn let her honest thoughts surface carefully. Because I don’t want to fail so quickly.

That didn’t feel quite right. Even as she tried to will it to be, a memory cut in of the air rushing past and a warm body at her back as she dangled some feet off the ground, held safe only by the capable hands of a tall, golden robot.

Because I’m a prideful idiot and let myself feel vulnerable for just a second too long.

Reaching across the board, she took a large swipe at the remaining letters.

A ghost of a sensation ran over her shoulders, making her pause; not the usual tingle of pain, but the gentle sensation of cool fingers at her back as someone reached behind her, letting her know they were there. Spinning to look behind herself, Jenn’s heart thudded hard and fast, only to be shocked no one was there. Touching the back of her neck, she thought of the kitchen, of cleaning blue and indigo alloy carefully and showing the lithe robot who was light on his feet how to prepare round-grass.

Because you’re so helpless I can’t just let you fall to your own ignorance–-it’s not your fault.

Laa whirred faintly as she watched the tube of crystalline ore and liquid change color.

Arms wrapping around herself, Jenn squeezed her eyes shut. Firelight danced behind her eyelids, the sound of drums and music humming under her skin. Laughing. Talking.

Dancing.

Tears burned as her throat threatened to close, demanding the truth she refused to speak.

Then… fear.

Gray eyes and shaking hands.

Her elbow stung.

I don’t know what happened to you… Jaw clenching, Jenn felt her breath shudder, her own pain giving way to anger.

New anger, sweet and fiery.

I don’t know who did it… but I will take you as far away from them as I can get you. Gaze trained on the unseen horizon where E’rta lay, miles away, Jenn’s nails dug into her false arm while her other hand squeezed her bicep tightly. You deserve freedom.

Red eyes burned into her mind from the depths of her memory.

You deserve to be free from that burden.

She swallowed, throat aching with emotion.

And I deserve this ache for letting myself get comfortable when I know better. For being cocky about my own self-control. 

It was hard to breathe.

Quietly, Jenn let slip the truth she’d been afraid to speak into being, hoping it would lessen her aching heart. “It’s because I’m lonely.” The admission felt both sharp and like a burden was lifted, a single tear managing to fall from the tip of her nose, but as it went it took the tension from deep in her chest with it. Her next breath was smoother than the last, her lungs feeling fuller as the pain lessened just a bit.

Laa cheeped again, loudly, with a bit of alertness to her tone.

Turning, Jenn’s eyes widened; white light spilled from the vial containing the crystal shard, so bright it made dark shadows even under the lamp’s yellow glow. Laa’s haunches were raised, her tail and facial lens flashing warnings; she leaped into the air as Jenn grabbed for her tongs, hitting the emergency stop while swearing. The tube was pulled from the heating dock with some amount of care, but kept at a distance enough for Jenn not to be in the splash zone if the hot liquid spilled out.

There it was kept, glowing like white hot metal at the end of her reach as she uttered curses for not paying attention; something smelled burnt.

With the machine powered down and the glow dimming slowly, Jenn relaxed slightly, Laa peaking over her shoulder with disdain for the radiant vial. “Well…” the human huffed, raising the glowing tube up a bit to try and see if the material inside had dissolved or not, “that’s what I get for not paying attention.”

Creeping to the rifle case on a hunch, Laa gave the interior a once over; immediately her scanner alerted to heat damage and fumes, so she gave a terse, “Aa.”

“Oh-–shekt.” Moving quickly, Jenn held the vial aloft and leaned over the desk, pulling the circuit wires away. “No, no–-shekt!” A smoldering component glared at her from the recesses of her gun’s case, mocking her. “Great. Just great.” Her hands tensed. “It would be the elemental converter-–dragged below the shell! Thakk me–-”

A crackling sound tore her attention back to the vial of cyberite remnant, a spiderweb of hairline fractures forming at the base. The tube shattered, the liquid splattering-–Jenn covered her face with her arm and swore again. Glowing white ether-water and shards of glass speckled the lab floor, the light fading steadily as it lost charge. A wet spot on her leg earned a sneer, the heat only a mild sting now; the fabric glowed dimly where the liquid had absorbed into it, mocking her.

“Well… that’s gonna itch if I don’t change it.” Human and bot shared a look, then Jenn sighed, noticing Laa’s indicator was still flashing. “So the elemental converter burned out because of course it did. If I had to guess, it was getting old and bound to act up eventually but without it I can’t gauge the readings I need so guess who gets to go find a new part? Good thing I already planned to send those two off in the morning, we can just make a trip of it.” She fought down the groan in her chest.

That was not part of the plan. Any more time spent with them was a risk to her own wellbeing and an expense she couldn’t afford.

There wasn’t much choice now, though.

“That’s it for now, end cyberite power substitution test treth-zek and hold future tests until I get a new converter. Jenn Ralzen, signing off.”

Laa’s indicator stopped blinking, her eyes flashing positive that the recording she’d made had been saved. Grateful chin scratches were offered as Jenn mused aloud, “He’s gonna be pissed when he finds out.” Laa leaned into the affection, her eyes closing contentedly. “Assuming he gets back on the network before I fix it, anyway.” Pulling her head free of the distraction, Laa chirped while staring at the still-glowing stain on her mother’s leg. “Ah,” the human grunted, tugging her goggles off her head, “right.”

Picking up her stardust, Jenn turned to the door of her lab and set the lock code, shutting it down fully for the time being. She could clean the mess later. It’s not like it could go anywhere.

The air outside was fully chilled, not yet enough to form fog when breathing but cool enough to raise the hairs on her body within seconds. As dark as it was, and with a terse finger pointed at the sky accusingly–-this is your fault, isn’t it?-- the presence of light was hard to miss. Naturally drawn to the sliver of the window illuminated by yellow light, she knew her guests were still awake long past when she thought they’d retire.

Great.

~

Moon sighed sharply, shoulders dropping. “Well… that could have gone better.”

The pair of Task Managers stared defeatedly at the large puddle of water that had formed across the counter and floor of the kitchen, temperature warnings on their HUDs indicating a nasty scald for anyone who stepped in the mess. After a disappointed moment of self-reflection, Moon’s pulse flights flared, bringing the cooling sensation of his Alternate with it; he shifted his weight back a half-step as he found the pull of the steaming water, wrists turning and fingers curling, willing it from the ground so he could direct it into the sink. No evidence they’d have to explain if Jenn appeared suddenly.

Sun lingered back at the edge of the counter, face tinted orange with embarrassment. “I really thought it would be easier than that, I’m sorry.”

“You get points for being creative,” the darker bot offered, giving a single turn that cascaded the water up off the floor in a flourish before he guided it with his palm into the basin, “but I think we need a little more practice at combination work first.”

Rubbing the inside of his palm, Sun nodded; trying to wrap the bird in a steaming bubble because it was too large for a pot seemed like a good idea in the moment. “It would’ve been easier if we weren’t… you know.”

As the last of the mess disappeared into the sink, Moon exhaled and let the sensation fade, regarding his brother from the corner of his eye for a moment. “Hiding it?”

Sun nodded.

“You know–-”

Blurting his thoughts before he lost the chance, Sun quickly explained, “I know it’s because having the element of surprise is a good idea and you don’t trust Jenn but–-”

The gangly bot didn’t expect Moon to cut him off in return with a, “But,” giving him pause. “I think we should tell her.”

Sun’s mouth fell open with shock. “R… really?”

Shrugging lightly, Moon nodded. “I have a hunch she already knows, if I’m being honest.”

“What makes you…?” The way Moon’s eyes darted across Sun’s body then down to his own and ending with a rhetorical quirk of his brow made the golden bot rethink his question briefly. “Ah. Right. I… forgot about how we arrived here.”

Moon’s jaw tensed a moment, grabbing at the opportunity to fill in some blanks in his thoughts. “Speaking of that.” Raising his head, Sun’s rays fluttered. “What…” He felt his chest casing tense. “What do you remember from all of that?”

Sun’s gaze wavered a moment under a surge of anxious energy in his system; processing all of what led to now wasn’t something he’d wanted to do, yet some part of him had already accepted it as inevitable. “Um…” Bowing his head, the lanky bot crossed his ankles and leaned onto the counter, weight supported by the heels of his hands. “It was… really chaotic. It was getting darker and darker, I didn’t know where we were or where we were going…”

While listening, Moon carefully picked through his records in the hopes of finding something that wasn't damaged to compare what he was told; he couldn't bring himself to open any of them to truly confirm their status.

“I could hear… people. Behind us, shouting.” The ghost sensation of Moon’s hand pulling him forward as he tried to look back prickled over Sun’s forearm.

“Which people?”

Shoulders lifting faintly, Sun murmured, “I don’t know. I didn’t recognize their voices.”

None of the files felt safe to open, the foreboding impression of pain warding him back from even trying. “What else?”

Sun studied his brother’s expression for a moment, curious why he wanted to know now only to remember bitterly it was his own fault, his mouth pressing into a line. “We…” He gestured to his head briefly. “That…” Moon grunted, frowning. “And then I had to lead and I didn’t know where we were going so I just… picked a direction away from the voices and ran.”

Did I even have a place to go? the lunar model pondered, finding no traces of a plan in the portion of his memory that was usable. Either he didn’t have one at all and chose to improvise or something had been made and lost within the period locked away by his system failure. I really hope no one is waiting for us. Even as he thought it, he felt doubt.

There was no chance he would trust someone else to assist them in going rogue. Anything he might have planned would rely only on them and their ability to achieve it.

Unaware of his brother’s inner aside, Sun continued, “You were… I guess delirious is the only way to describe how you were behaving, like you’d just powered on with a low battery.” Moon grimaced. “It started getting… weird around then.”

Brow raised, Moon urged, “Weird?”

“At first it got darker, but then…” Changing his posture so his hands were free, Sun twisted his fingers over themselves. “It got bright. The trees sounded like there was wind but it wasn’t windy… at least not at first.” His rays rippled. “I lost signal when the light came back, which was really… distracting. Like one eye going out.”

“Yikes.”

“My body also felt… floaty?”

“Floaty?”

“Lighter… looser in all my joints,” he rolled his shoulders and shook out his elbows, vaguely remembering the sensation of his bolts and panels coming apart at the seams, “like gravity wasn’t as strong. For a minute it was actually easier to run with you but then it got… really awkward. I couldn't keep contact with the ground or stop at all.”

A mild impression of weightlessness was all Moon had to go on for comparison, as he was still rebooting right up until they found themselves at the edge of the chasm that nearly spelled the end for their little escape attempt. Sense had barely come back to him before they were thrown off the edge by the growing storm. “And that’s when…?”

Nodding, Sun quietly said, “When we went over the edge.”

“When we were dragged, you mean.”

After a moment to think, the golden brother shook his head. “We weren’t dragged. We were caught.”

“What-–?”

The click of a door opening cut off the discussion, Moon whirling to face the entryway as he tried to make sense of what he was told. Caught? he asked himself, annoyed they were being interrupted. He can’t mean someone actually managed to… no, that… can’t be. Can it?

Blue eyes appearing in the archway of the kitchen stalled any further attempts to decipher the words Sun spoke, his body tensing as she took a quick glance around before landing on them with a faint sharpness he couldn’t quite place in terms of emotions. “What’re you doing to my bird?” Jenn inquired, voice confused but eyes unyielding of her true thoughts.

Quick as ever, Sun answered while gesturing to the ruffled nighthawk on the stove top they’d tried and failed to pluck. “We were trying to make you dinner but, um… it wasn’t as easy as we thought.” As her eyes darted to his, Sun felt his body try to flinch; it took every drop of restraint he could muster to not react to her gaze, a whisper of panic tickling down his back. Not Vissara–-she’s not Vissara, she’s not–-

The way the light spokes of Sun’s halo wavered told enough that Jenn knew he wasn’t quite past whatever had set him off previously, as she expected. Taking a step deliberately, she paused to gauge their reactions; each made the tiniest of movements, one to back away, the other to interfere. She saw it in the way Sun’s weight moved to the side that would take him away from her, felt it in the way the air shifted ever so slightly as Moon leaned forward to intercept her path. A dozen unspoken things lingered in that heartbeat before she took her next step, moving slowly to allow them to reposition themselves somewhere they felt safer.

Taking her attention off them as Sun strafed around her to stand beside his brother, the human went about pulling a pan out from her oven and setting the bird on it, using a coil of twine taken from among the clutter on the counter to bind the feet together. A sharp knife was used to cut the tail feathers off, the cores crunching loudly as they were severed, the ends discarded to the mess unceremoniously. Once it was tucked up and tied, Jenn slid the pan into the moderate oven, shut it tight and pulled a hose from the control panel that she attached to her faucet. “I have an old model of the Farberger kitchen unit,” she explained plainly, turning on the water and setting the necessary dials for the task. “It has a steaming setting built into it which I use specifically for this.”

“Oh,” Sun quipped faintly, a bit embarrassed he hadn’t thought to check for such a thing before trying his own way. “That’s… convenient!”

“It is.”

Now with the chance to follow through on what they’d discussed, Sun lightly jabbed his brother in the shoulder with his elbow, not taking his eyes off the human as she made small adjustments to her oven. Moon swatted back in retaliation, scowling as Sun nodded at Jenn, quietly giving him a chance to start the talk he’d suggested.

Well?

Just give me a minute!

Sun rolled his eyes, huffing.

Whacking his brother with his elbow–-Jenn turned her head slightly at the sound–-Moon took a breath and carefully chose his first words while wrangling his panic down. If we take the first step, he told himself, thinking back to what Sun said previously. Give trust to get trust. Mouth opening to start the discussion–-

-–Jenn turned, hip cocked and arms crossed as she acknowledged them where they stood–-

-–his HUD alerted suddenly, focus drawn to a spot on Jenn’s leg that had an unusual chemical composition.

//WARNING: ETHER TRACES DETECTED//

Panic squeezed Moon’s voice box, stopping him from making so much as a peep.

/Response Directive: Locate source_

>Potential breach of containment_

>Discover and confirm source of ether-water_

/BODILY SCAN COMPLETED: NO INJURIES DETECTED/

/STATUS PING: TM_sun10300.sys NO INJURIES REPORTED/

Sun blinked hard against the tickle in his mind as his system was prodded without warning. Turning, he felt his core burn in fearful confusion as he saw Moon’s eyes desaturate while barred from returning the ping. At a glance, he saw Jenn raise a brow, clearly expecting someone to say something.

Just barely, Moon managed to stop the mystery process from running once again, covering his eyes reflexively to hide them.

“Um,” Sun uttered, realizing something was wrong and trying to fill the stillness, “so, how… how are you?”

Jenn’s brow creased as her attention turned to the golden bot who felt his body shudder against his will.

“Uh, right… Um, I’m… sorry-–”

Instantly, Jenn cut him off. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Huh?”

“It’s done, it’s over. Don’t worry about it.” Gaze sliding back to the quiet brother, she added, “I think he needs to sleep.”

Faintly, Sun could feel Moon trembling; worry coiled through his system, the cause escaping him for this reaction. “We, ah-–”

Moon blinked, focus returning to his surroundings.

“--we wanted to tell you-–”

Quickly, Moon stopped him, grabbing onto and squeezing Sun’s wrist so sharply it silenced the taller bot. “We're sorry for tampering with your supplies and yes, I think I need to go to sleep.” Tugging, Moon’s eyes bore into his brother’s with intense warning as he led them to the entryway.

“Wh–-”

“Everything that happened was a lot and I’m tired. Aren’t you?”

Fumbling for a moment, Sun managed to agree, putting on an agreeable grin. “Yes, we just wanted to wish you a good sleep! Good dreams–-!”

The lanky bot stumbled into the hallway, disappearing from view at the behest of his pair as they followed the curved path to the sitting room. Jenn watched them steadily as they left, gaze lingering for a long moment on the empty junction of the room and hall, head shaking slowly. Taking a moment to appreciate the fact they’d swept up the mess of broken ceramic while left alone, she examined the spot on her leggings that had been bleached by the spilled ether-water, a faint crystalline dust coming away at her fingertips.

For entertainers, they’re terrible actors.

~

The sitting room door shut with a hiss, Moon’s hands spread wide as he pressed his weight against it in an attempt to reinforce it from entry. His inner supports quivered, everything feeling out of place and tangled as if someone had reached into his chassis and twisted his wires onto themselves. Alerts continued to flash across his vision, demanding attention and resolution but the lunar model couldn't bring himself to acknowledge any of them yet, focusing on his exhaust cycle and the way it hiccuped if he didn’t deliberately measure his breath.

Unsure what to do or why they’d suddenly bailed on their conversation, Sun lingered back in debate as to whether or not he should touch his brother or wait. The silence wasn’t helping him think so he opted for the third option, “What’s wrong?”

Snapping out of his focus state, Moon turned, voice soft with shock. “You didn’t notice?”

“Notice?”

A buzzing thought darted through the darker bot’s mind. There’s no way I saw it and he didn’t! Moon kept his composure. “Her leg-–her pants,” he said carefully, back pressing to the door.

“What about them?”

Squeezing his eyes shut as he bit back a harsh snap, Moon breathed, “The stain on her leg.” Sun’s brow furrowed. “It had traces of etherylle in it.”

A quiver darted up Sun’s back, his rays rippling so suddenly their integrity faltered, creating a fragmented glint of magenta and green light. “What??” he squeaked under his breath, disbelieving. “How–-are you sure??”

“I saw it, Sun.” Absently, one of Moon’s hands traced the shape of his eye socket as he recalled the fact he had different ocular features and Sun might have simply not gotten the same alert he did. “It has a very specific composition. It’s not easy to mistake for anything else.”

“I… I know.” It took a large amount of concentration for Sun to keep his hand from digging into the seam of his headcase, finger tracing the line where his facial mold and components met instead. “You’re absolutely sure–-?”

“Yes.”

“But… why? Why would she have ether-water on her–-?”

“Do you think I know??” Moon stopped himself as he stepped forward, seeing Sun shrink and tuck his hands against his chest. He had to stay in control–-stay calm. The glass wall slid into place with little urging as Moon mentally stepped back, his body filling with a cool sensation as his nerves numbed. His breathing regulated shortly after and his voice returned to a gentle tone, just above a whisper. “I’m sorry.”

Squeezing his hands into half fists, Sun opted to brush off the snap. “Maybe it was from when she fixed us…?”

But Moon was shaking his head before the question had even fully formed. “And we didn’t notice until now? No, that was new .”

“But maybe–-”

“In what world,” Moon used every bit of will to keep his voice measured, “is it normal for a human in the middle of the woods to suddenly have ether-water on her clothes? Animals don’t bleed that stuff, Sun.”

Sun squeezed his eyes shut, feeling the next words coming even as he covered his auditory disks to block the sound.

“We do.”

Adamantly, Sun replied, “There has to be-–” but Moon didn’t let him finish.

Face falling as a series of thoughts clicked into place, Moon breathed, “It all makes sense now…”

Peeking through his lashes, Sun waited for the explanation he felt coming.

Blinks of memories flashed past, clips of Jenn’s voice pinned to images selected of her actions and expressions, the creeping, nagging feeling coating everything like tar. The words between the words, left unspoken. The warnings.

The thought being left unfinished bothered Sun too much to let it go unaddressed. “Moon, what makes sense?”

Meeting his brother’s gaze, Moon quietly uttered, “Everything. Everything she’s done, everything she’s said… what she hasn’t said…”

Weakly, Sun squeaked, “Moon, you’re scaring me.”

Taking a breath, the darker bot attempted to explain the tangle of realization clouding his mind in a way that wouldn't upset his pair further. “The entire time we’ve been here, she’s been very careful about what she says and how.” Unable to argue this fact, Sun nodded. “I’m going to sound crazy for a second here.”

The reflex to agree he was indeed being crazy nearly won the coin flip on being spoken aloud, but Sun bit his lip to keep it in.

“I think she’s been trying to warn us.”

Squinting confusedly, Sun grunted. “Hah??”

“Human in the middle of nowhere, knows a lot about bots and building them, right?” Unwilling to wait for a proper response, Moon continued, “Lives alone on a private network that can’t be traced or easily hacked–-kind of suspicious.”

It was, though Sun didn’t want to admit this.

“What if, and please hear me out.” The pair stared each other down, knowing full well Sun was about to interject. “She can’t gut us because we’re too complicated and full of Azil-knows-what parts that aren’t easily removed or repaired, but there’s no one around for miles. What’s easier, dragging inert bodies that might get damaged or walking them into the scrap shop by pretending to help?”

Shoulders slumping, Sun groaned. “This again? Moon, I thought–-”

Tensely, Moon barked, “I’m being serious, Sun! ” which got the lanky bot to shut his mouth with a click. “But–-for whatever reason, maybe she’s trying to see if we trust her by playing mind games. If we ignore the red flags it means we’re easy to manipulate.” Sun scowled. “Vissara did the same.”

Sharply, Sun fired back, “Jenn is not Vissara.”

Patience wearing thin, Moon snapped back, “We don’t know that, Sunrise!”

Being struck across the face would have hurt less than his full name. Sun’s rays dimmed considerably.

Lashing out in this way made Moon’s system scream at him to correct it, but the sound was muffled behind the glass wall he slammed into, finding it impossible to move. He had to continue, choosing his expressions and tone carefully to emphasize his point. To make it impossible to ignore. “We don’t know a dragged thing about this human that really matters, we have no facts except we are alone, she knows how we work, how to V-program of all things–-she has spare parts, even!--and now there’s ether-water on her clothes after she was locked up in her lab where we couldn't see her. Our blood, Sun. Robot. Blood.”

Unable to take more, Sun cracked, voice becoming shrill. “I know! I heard you!”

“We cannot take more chances than we have already.”

Turning away, Sun paced, hands dragging at his clothes to find something to grab that wasn’t his own body parts. He didn’t believe it-–he couldn't believe Jenn wanted to hurt them. Moon didn’t know her like he did–-Moon didn’t talk to her like he did. “Some humans like to be alone,” he started, rounding on his heel to face his brother. “That’s not-–”

Arms spread to indicate the house, Moon fired back, “In the bum-thakk of nowhere?? How many humans do you know that live like this? Hm??”

Not many. “This is why we were going to talk to her, Moon! So we could learn the truth!”

Loudly, Moon demanded, “And what if that hurts us?”

An immediate answer escaped the golden Task Manager as he mulled over the words, core burning with emotions he tried to keep under control. A lot of good could come from being honest, he knew, but a tickle of hesitation turned into a piercing pain of fear as he thought longer and longer on it. As much as he didn’t want to admit it, to defend Jenn’s honor as he knew it to be…

… Moon had a point.

Sun had been the one to disarm their initial meeting with quick words, yes.

It was Sun who kept Jenn busy so Moon could make sure nothing dangerous was waiting for them, giving him ample opportunity to ask questions.

Questions Jenn had hesitated to answer, questions he knew deep in his circuits she only answered because they weren’t personal. He’d said as much himself.

Mired in guilt and realization, Sun knew it was also his fault Moon’s memory was compromised.

It was his fault they ended up at the cliffside when he chose a random direction purely on a gut feeling that shouldn't exist.

It was Sun’s fault they fell off that cliff.

Sun’s judgment was not infallible.

The possibility that he was wrong, that Jenn was just as masterful at planning and manipulation as their owner, made him want to collapse under the weight of his own body. To scream.

It wasn’t fair.

Why was there no good decision or an objectively correct answer?

Arms wrapped tightly around his trembling body, Sun fought to keep his voice calm but the emotional weight refused to stay chained this time. “What do we do…?”

Knowing hurting Sun with logic was a low blow but Moon needed him to understand the true depths of the danger they found themselves back in–-that if one human could be capable of the horrible things Vissara was, then they needed to assume all humans were just as capable and willing of the same. It was the only way to stay safe. Quietly, Moon offered, “We pretend we haven’t caught on,” as he approached the trembling bot and laid his hands on his brother’s back. “She mentioned it would take a while to get where we need to go, and there’s a lot we have to figure out still. I think… we play it cool and follow along with her plan. Keeps our wits sharp and trust only each other. Squeeze whatever information out of her we can… and once we get an opportunity, we turn tail and make a break for it. Maybe we can ditch her in another city and hide, or sneak off at night while she’s sleeping.”

Folding into the safety of his brother’s arms, Sun hugged Moon tight, body fully shaking now. Squeezing each other tight, their pulse lights began to blink as they regulated themselves. Once the shaking subsided enough to be negligible, Sun muttered, “Okay… we’ll do it your way.”

The hint of resignation didn’t go unnoticed. Holding his brother’s chin with his hands, Moon made Sun look at him, yellow boring into teal with fierce care; the glass wall finally released him from its numbing hold. “I will keep you safe, Sun. I got us into this mess, I’ll make sure you come out of it in one piece.”

Gaze wavering, Sun corrected softly, “We will make it out in one piece.”

Nodding, Moon pressed their foreheads together, light cycling into a matched pattern in a few breaths. “We.”

//LOCK INTEGRITY STABILIZED//

Chapter Text

Tremortongue.

It didn’t surprise them one bit that the acrid, sharp odor of the herb had seeped into the seats, almost coating the throat with each inhale. Though they tried to ignore it, Silvon let themself crack the window ever-so-slightly to clear the miasma, fingers drumming on the console by their leg in a deliberate show of nonchalance. Once in a while, the driver would take a peek in the rearview and each time, Silvon met his gaze with their own crisp, magenta one, daring him to speak until the man looked away of his own accord.

After far longer in silence than initially expected, nearly to the end of the journey, the driver finally decided to speak. “So…” Silvon exhaled slowly, anticipating the attempt at chitchat. “Business or pleasure today?”

Had they been any less than a professional, the human would have given a noncommittal answer–but Silvon knew his employer’s tricks well by now. The smog of herb was indicator enough that miss Oinn was still not above a ruse to get her way and so providing some was better than none if it meant satisfying any future ‘curiosity’--even if that curiosity ended up sated with a well-woven lie. A lack of anything to report would result in more questions later that were harder to maintain under scrutiny. “Business,” Silvon replied shortly, holding the image of the driver’s gaze in the mirror even after he’d turned his attention back to the road.

The streetskipper had been ‘quite the investment’ on miss Oinn’s part, the months spent getting a permit cut down significantly with the right amount of money offered at the right time-–all to have what she wanted most in the world: an advantage. In their time under her employ, Silvon quickly understood miss Oinn to be the one who wanted to be in the center of everything, compulsively and absolutely. All things tied back to Vissara. All others looked up to Vissara. That was how she liked it.

How it always was.

Buying a small vehicle and paying a man to drive it around while miss Oinn and her comrades enjoyed the novelty of the backseat-–it even had an ice box, with an unopened glass carafe of water Silvon refused to touch–-was always intended as a power move, another jewel in her figurative crown to display to the peons and posh elites alike. Regulations and restrictions on transport in E’rta made private chauffeurs and their shuttles a rarity, the majority of inner-city travel that wasn’t conducted on foot relying solely on dutifully maintained rails and skyvans. No city had cleaner or more orderly streets than E’rta.

It was enough to make Silvon ill.

Despite the persistent churning of their stomach–-one part indignant disgust, two parts deeply buried, anxious shaking-–having a private vehicle did have its perks. It shaved quite a lot of time off the transit from the estate to the pick up zone at the very least. Advantages on timetables and schedules that didn’t rely on public transport patterns and their immutable regiments were another.

“Call me crazy,” the driver went on after a long, awkward pause, “but what kinda business are you doing this far from the estate, if you don't mind my asking?”

I do mind, actually. Measuring their response with a calm tone while rubbing their thumb and forefinger against each other, Silvon answered, “Unfortunately I’m not at liberty to discuss.” The thin, white leather made a soft sound of comfort and familiarity, the embossed, bronze maker’s mark cool on their wrist whenever it touched skin.

The man frowned. “And you’re sure you want me to drop you off here?”

Glancing out the window at their surroundings, Silvon spied the platform used to load and unload vehicles entering the city’s west gate. It was empty save for corporate-owned transport rigs lining the edges of the bay that held no interest for the human. “Yes. My contact with the manufacturer will be here soon.”

The skipper coasted up the lip of the platform and settled onto the dock with a quiet whir of its electric system, the magnetic lifters disengaging as they parked. Almost immediately, the driver drummed the wheel with his hands, making a nervous popping sound with his mouth. Good at his job, surely, but terrible at fishing for information. At this rate, they wouldn’t even have to lie to fill the unspoken quota. Vissara wouldn’t be pleased.

It made Silvon’s mouth turn up just a bit.

“Is…”

They frowned.

“Is there a reason you can’t have this meeting in town? I’m sure miss Oinn will host them no–-”

Firmly, Silvon cut the offer off, eyes flashing in the rearview. “I am not in a position to determine when and where to conduct business on behalf of miss Oinn or the Exxona Corporation. Someone that got into making high end parts exclusively for the closed market is one who has the money to burn on it and isn’t out to seek a profit. You can imagine a person desiring to make Goldlite grade modules for fun as a hobby might lean toward… eccentricity. ”

Ever so faintly, Silvon watched the driver chew his bottom lip like a child being scolded for speaking out of turn.

“By their insistence, I am being picked up and taken to the meeting place. You will return here when called once business is completed.”

“Yessir, mister Silvon,” the cowed man mumbled, visibly shrinking in his seat. “It’s your contact, sir. Sorry, sir.”

Teeth grinding, Silvon huffed, “It’s fine. I didn’t get in good graces with these people by questioning their quirks. Sometimes it pays to play defensively, not aggressively.” Clearly this man was not the normal rabble miss Oinn relied on to do her work; he certainly wasn’t a familiar face by any means. There was even the possibility he was simply trying to get paid and had no extant ties to the matter at hand. Silvon almost felt bad for being so harsh.

Almost.

A silent nod of agreement closed the topic, Silvon’s posture relaxing just-so into the seat–-a flash of silver drew their gaze out the viewscreen as a large, boxy chaser rum-rum-rumed onto the loading bay, the sharp edges polished into gleaming chrome and darksteel that felt equal parts intimidating and unnecessary. Picking themself out of the back seat, Silvon nearly missed the quiet question at their back as the driver murmured through a cracked window, “The halt is that? Looks like a refurbed cruiser.”

Silvon’s jaw tensed again against the possible answer they had as they leaned toward the open window, quietly responding, “It is.” The man’s brows knit together. “As I said: eccentricities. The venue is outside the urban zone of E’rta, what roads exist are not paved or well kept nor do they have full protection from the aurora and it’s… fits.” A slow dawning of realization crossed the man’s face. “Miss Oinn is not the only wealthy entrepreneur with access to private vehicles in the area. These just happen to have more practical applications outside of looks.”

Where the streetskipper was all form and grace, a small thing with curves instead of edges and a very well-padded shock balancing system that made every trip comfortable, the chaser-class cruiser was angular and bulky to insulate it from Azil-knows-what kind of abnormalities it would encounter. Armored, heavy and slow with its own self-generating mag-engine, only anomalies above F-class would stand a chance to disrupt this behemoth as it lumbered over unmarked terrain-–nevermind how well it protected from attacks from the local wildlife.

“Enjoy your down time,” Silvon dismissed the driver, straightening from the window. “I’ll call you when I’m en route from the meeting place.”

“Any idea when…?”

“Whenever business concludes.”

As they approached the bulky vehicle, squinting faintly against the light glimmering off its hull, a well-dressed Task Manager came around to greet them, their face all polite lines. “Good day, mexus Silvon,” the bot quietly said, voice flat but welcoming–hollow, like a script being read. The handsomely colored unit’s shell of polished copper and deep blue drew the human’s eye briefly as they opened the rear door of the chaser, navy suit pressed and fitted like a good helping hand would have. Sapphinite eyes turned slowly to the shape of the skipper over Silvon’s shoulder, studying the vehicle and driver briefly as the human entered the dim interior. The door shut with a muffled click.

With a polite fraction of a bow to the skipper’s driver, the unit turned gracefully to resume their position at the wheel, a diamond-shaped blaze of white on their forehead blinking once.

Inside the massive vehicle, Silvon found their seat and stiffly settled in, catching the robot’s frame through the privacy window as they sat and re-engaged the engine, silent. Only after the bone-deep rum-rum-rum of the displacers kicked on again did the human acknowledge the other figure sitting across from them, the darkness of the cab obscuring their shape from sight initially.

“Got a stick up yer ass or you jus’ happy t’see me?”

The air rushed from Silvon’s lungs in relief, their body relaxing all at once into the hard leather of the seat. The figure adjusted, reaching for an unseen fixture that illuminated the interior with weak, yellow-orange light–-a crooked grin in a worn face scarred from time and hair grayed with age met the human expectantly. Silvon found themself cracking a weak smile in return, leaning forward to the offered hand of the other man and grasping it firmly with both of theirs. “Phaestus,” they exhaled, feeling the rough hands squeeze theirs in greeting before they both sat back, hands on their knees. “Not that I'm not glad to see you but I thought–-?”

Expecting this confusion, the older man waved his hand dismissively before adjusting the cuff of his suit jacket where it encircled his wrist, mouth turned down in an annoyed frown as he grumbled, “Dragged funnyman suit…”

Though they knew Phaestus didn’t care for formal attire, it was a wonder the man could coordinate them so well at all as he never looked out of place when conducting business. Not at all like a man who wore work pants and plain shirts for ninety percent of his life. Even the vest underneath had delicately embroidered patterns of lines and diamonds carefully laid out to be negligible to those who didn’t know better.

“Osketeach, ” Silvon exhaled, voice lowering just slightly as their language changed from the local one to something rougher, full of deep, throaty sounds and hard hisses. “Let me guess. Heltis–-?”

Knowing what was being said, the older man sighed, switching to the same guttural language without a pause as they both spoke together, “--had too much to do,” one resigned, the other sarcastic.

“I already know Korhen won’t set foot inside the city, but I’d been under the impression one of them would be picking me up.”

“That why ya looked like you were gon’ shek yerself?”

Cheeks burning at the crass choice of words, Silvon scowled.

“Don’ lookat me that way.” Fishing around in the console by his seat, Phaestus pulled out a glass carafe of water with a blue lid, tossing it to Silvon who caught it easily. Even without looking, they knew it was infused with ardberry–-their favorite. “ An’ ya ain’t wrong, Heltis was gonna but…”

Taking a slow drink from the glass bottle, Silvon’s eyes tracked the man’s face with just enough worry that they couldn’t fully enjoy the taste that clung to their tongue, bitter and refreshing. “Is he well?”

Phaestus snorted, teeth flashing. “Oh, he’s fine, jus’ bein’ ‘imself. ”

A faint chuckle caught in Silvon’s chest. “Oh no.”

The brevity faded from the older man’s face slightly, dark green eyes glimmering the dim light as he sat forward onto his elbows. As he did, the cruiser banked to the left, cutting a rather sharp turn as they exited the west gate at last. “When Korhen passed th’ message down,” the man sighed, “ none o’ us were happy bu’ Lord Unyeildin’ was that man pissy ‘bout’t.”

“I can imagine.” The rougher road winding through the forest wasn’t as easily debuffed by the cruiser’s shocks, forcing extra effort from Silvon to not spill water on themself as the vehicle swayed on the wandering track.

This had been somewhat expected on Silvon’s part. After so much meticulous planning and anguish in waiting, it all went up in smoke because of a ‘poorly-planned flash mob’, in Korhen’s words. The gala had been perfect , organized down to the second and with not a single missing person to fret over–-and then, right at the moment of truth, they showed up. Swarming like ants, the interlopers descended, sowing chaos as the air filled with shrieks and fervent orders.

Between the attempts at being kidnapped by the enemy and the demands of getting on the ground to avoid being shot–by friend and foe alike-–it was no wonder the absence of Vissara’s ‘star attractions’ had gone relatively unnoticed until things calmed down. What didn’t make sense to Silvon though, even in hindsight, was the validity of the claims the hostess’s Sun and Moon units had been taken as ransom by the escaping intruders–unless it had been a last minute endeavor to acquire leverage when they realized everything was going pear shaped. Yet their gut told them that wasn’t right either.

Not that it made telling Korhen any easier that his grand plan had fallen apart by pure bad luck.

The worry must have shown on Silvon’s face with the way Phaestus leaned over more to give their knee a shake. “Oi,” he muttered in plain-speak, brows raised. “‘Member, ‘s not yer fault.”

Silvon knew this. “I’m just not looking forward to discussing it in depth, if I’m being honest.” It had only been a few days, at most. In that time, the closest Silvon had come to talking about the ordeal was the short call confirming their backup was cleared to proceed. “He’s not exactly patient.”

“I wouldn’ be either if I’d sunk a couple years inta some’ only fer it t’ blow up in m’face-–an’ not even lit’raly.”

Though it was a serious concern, a wry smile twisted onto Silvon’s face at the man’s words. Learning to understand the broken, heavily accented way Phaestus spoke in every dialect had been quite the effort on their part to parse out-–sometimes, even now, Silvon was unsure what was being said when the older man got carried away–-but even if it was jittery and senseless he still had a warmth in his voice that softened the direst of phrases. It helped, just a bit.

“How is it coming along?”

Withdrawing his hand, Phaestus scanned his comrade’s face carefully, knowing well enough the stone faced facade was hiding a genuine concern that he himself shared. “Steadily,” he answered after a long moment, glancing over his shoulder at the driver who stayed focused on the meandering path ahead. “Good luck ‘n our part Heltis got this’n done b’fore gettin’ another commission or we’d be behind an’ I ain’t dealin’ with Korhen havin’ ‘nother fit.”

Following the man’s gaze to the copper and blue bot in the driver’s seat, Silvon mused, “I was wondering where they’d come from.”

“Tha’s Chanis,” the man sighed. At hearing their name, the driver glanced into the mirror and smiled for just a moment, then returned to their duty.

“Another pet project, I take it?”

Phaestus grunted. “What isn’ a pet project for tha’ man?”

Given how the master builder had only made three that Silvon had seen personally, there was no way to be sure what was genuine careful planning and what was him ‘experimenting’ with the resources given. The other projects in his repertoire could easily be mock ups or ‘partial failures’ as far as that man was concerned.

“Af’r th’ other two got sent off, he got bored ‘nd started fidgetin’ wi’ spares. Korhen tol’ ‘im not ta cuz,” he gestured vaguely, “ya know.”

They did know. There were only so many things they could make with what they had, and wasting them on personal projects was not conducive to the brichaea . However, Heltis knew he could get away with anything he wanted to by way of being the only master builder they had. Everyone knew Korhen was–-supposedly-–the one calling the shots, but Heltis was the true authority that stood in the way of those shots hitting or missing. Not that the artisan seemed to care about this fact much aside from what inconvenienced him from day to day.

There were not enough painkillers in Per’iah to stave off the headache Silvon got when those two fools butted heads.

Trying to keep it light, Silvon pressed for details about their new companion, touching their forehead briefly. “What model are they supposed to be? I noticed the suvath.”

“A Day, ah think.” Phaestus gave his jaw a scratch, mussing the minimally-kempt beard that grew there that had been full and orderly at one time but now dared not grow longer than his nailbed. “Not sure’f tha’ was the’ goal but big boss said the’ needed a purp’se an’ shuttle driver was open.”

“As always, artful work.” The compliment was spoken to Phaestus, however Silvon’s eyes lingered on the mirror just long enough to see the robot smile a touch in response. “Are they…?”

Head shaking, the man guffawed, “Nah nah, still sleepin’, this’n,” with a jerk of his thumb. “Th’ ‘good stuff’ got held over f’r plan bez so they’re runnin’ copper an’ silver.”

I can’t imagine Heltis is very pleased with that, Silvon mused to themself, taking a deep drink of their water. The crisp, bitter infusion of floral and berry had been long missed as despite her many connections, Vissara did not particularly care for ‘obscure’ treats and imports that weren’t permanent fixtures. Finding a market that had anything with ardberry that wasn’t overblown with sweetener until it was practically syrup had been a dry endeavor long given up on as Silvon resigned themself to it being a treat allowed only when returning to touch base. The taste alone reminded them of what they were doing and why; it tasted of memories and bright days, warm rocks and long hours working until satisfied with a project or chore. It tasted of shimmering stardust and caverns of light.

It tasted like home.

**

The journey had been calm, filled with minor this-and-that chat as the pair caught each other up on the goings-on of their respective houses. For a time, it had felt like a regular meet up–-until Chanis opened the door to allow them out only for Silvon’s breath to hitch as they stared down the ancient, brutalist facade of the compound. At their back, Phaestus paused before gently nudging them to move; with a dry swallow, the human stepped aside to let the man out, barely aware of the cruiser pulling away as they prepared themself mentally for what would likely be a very bad time.

No matter how many times the sound of leather soles changed from dull tapping to echoed clacking as they crossed the threshold from the courtyard, it never truly felt familiar to Silvon. Granted, they rarely spent time there anymore, but even in the beginning it had felt temporary-–just another place bearing the title of ‘home’ without the substance to make it so. The hard lines and looming walls certainly served their purpose as intimidating decor, a stark contrast to the sandstone curves and low ceilings they remembered so fondly. Why Korhen went with such a drastic change of taste and unfamiliar palette Silvon could only assume reflected the man’s barren heart.

Or more over, the collective hearts of all working within the walls, laid out in no uncertain terms as a reminder for them all what they were working toward.

Quasi-familiar faces passed in the long halls, some offering a simple nod, others dipping their heads and muttering variations of a greeting–-Ash’ra katve-–which prompted a response from Phaestus on some occasions. Katke ash’ravach. Over and over, these phrases flowed through the compound like breath in a giant’s body; it was to a point, Silvon felt they’d be able to answer even in their sleep despite how rarely they made this trip anymore.

Katke ash’ravach.

Familiar on the tongue, and yet unfitting for the moment. Unable to return the greeting with any genuine feeling, Silvon occupied themself by chewing the inside of their lip, eyes squinting against the change in light as the hallway opened up into a grand antechamber. Here, the hum of feet and voices changed from periodic beat to constant hum, an array of consoles lining every wall around a cluster of tables, each fitted with an assist-arm in various states of repair. At the far end, another hallway gaped open but no light filled it–-just black.

“Wai’ ‘ere,” the older man mumbled, hand gently stopping Silvon from going any further through the chamber. “I’ll see wh’t mood ‘e‘s in.”

“Appreciated.” Left alone for the moment, Silvon cast a glance around at the manufacturing team, all locked into their tasks at their stations without daring to look up-–unsurprising with the presence of the hunched figure at the center of everything, light flickering from the assist-arm at his side as it spot welded something behind the protective screen separating the table from the rest of the room.

As long as Heltis was at work, his apprentices knew better than to stray from theirs if they didn’t want a verbal lashing that would have them begging for a beating for the sake of mercy.

Despite his notorious temper and lack of patience for others, the master builder had quite a lot of respect accrued, both from his kin and those in his field and Silvon was no different. Watching the way he worked was a treat if one could get close enough without getting his attention, and Heltis himself was well-aware of his skill. Whether this fuelled his attitude with ego or genuine confidence was anyone’s guess, yet no one argued he had plenty to spare. Stopping his work for a moment, the graying man sat up with his hand lifted to the overhead lights. Something glittered between his fingers as he turned it over and over, seeking for some invisible flaw only he could detect.

Seemingly satisfied with his efforts, the old man groaned, placing his project on the table and stretching-–something in his spine cracked loudly, stirring the apprentices from their flow states. As he stood, the master builder barked an order through the room, calling his collective to take a break. Without a second thought, the others began to scatter, some sitting together to chat and others leaving to the adjacent rooms for refreshment or rest. Tired gray-blue eyes found magenta with an alertness that belied the man’s fatigue, a neatly edged beard of deep black untouched by the gray of experience, unlike his head-–no one had the gall to call Heltis old to his face-–might once have brought out the angles of a handsome man’s face, but now only enhanced the lines of his cheeks and the frowning edges of his mouth.

Despite the ache in his body, Master Builder Heltis of Aines walked with grace and balance, a broad wall of a man that was all shoulders and chest, his six-some-odd-inch frame managing to dwarf Silvon’s own lithe five-ten in both stature and sheer presence as he crossed the empty floor between with no sense of urgency. “Was wonderin’ when you’d slink back here,” he stated in his rumbling voice, stopping plenty far from the smaller human and crossing his arms. A long moment of silence passed as the pair sized each other up–Silvon knew this process well and good.

Though he was very familiar to Silvon, the human would never claim to know the man by any means, a deep feeling in their gut insisting the craftsman didn’t like them just on principle. It was only a small consolation that these tense ‘greetings’ weren’t solely for Silvon–-it had become something of a joke in the compound that this was how Heltis said hello to those under him. As they returned the even, icy gaze by studying the planes of the man’s face for changes since their last meeting–-none save for perhaps a few more grays in his hair–-Silvon felt the touch of an intrusive thought. When was the last time Heltis had been outside?

Before they could fully ponder this odd note, the contest of wills ended with Heltis sighing, seemingly satisfied with whatever unspoken answer he got. “Were ya gonna say hello or jus’ stand there like an unshelled endo?”

Swallowing against their dry mouth, Silvon dipped lightly. “Ash’ra katve.”

“Oh, piss off wi’ that.”

Silvon grimaced, straightening as the man moved around them toward a wall of salvage parts kept shuttered to prevent sticky hands from pocketing things to tinker with. Heltis opened the stash with a mild squeal of metal.

“Pissin’ thing needs a bath,” the man grumbled, forcing the grate open quickly to spare them the whine of rusted hinges. Then he more loudly said, “I asked for a ‘ello,” while picking up some part or other to take with him, not bothering to close the shutter after. Not that anyone would try to steal while he was in the room if they valued their fingers and dignity.

With carefully curated monotone, Silvon answered, “Hello, zye’Heltis.”

Eyes rolling, Heltis waited expectantly, brow arched.

Repressing a groan, Silvon continued, “It’s been some time since we last spoke, I hope your endeavors are succeeding.”

This seemed to satisfy the man, a fraction of tension leaving his shoulders. “‘Course they’re succeeding, they’re my endeavors.” The object flitted between calloused hands as the master builder appeared to fidget with it-–odd. “Yours?”

Silvon’s back tensed minutely. He never bothers to ask about proceedings outside of his own. “I am… here for a reason.”

“Mh.” The expression twisting on Heltis’ face was unfamiliar to the magenta-eyed human. Grey-blue irises flicked to the gaping, black hallway for a moment, then back. “If he gives ya a hard time, tell me, understood?”

What?

The object stilled, the dulled skin of the craftsman’s hand going white at the knuckles as he squeezed it, thumbnail scratching the surface with a faint sound of metal scraping. “Not a dragged one of us coulda predicted the whole ‘flash mob’ thing. ‘Specially not you.”

Silvon’s jaw tensed. This was not how this normally went.

“S’if that big mouth piss baby decides t’blame ya fer the party goin’ ass-ways, ya come tell me. Understood?”

It took everything they could muster not to begin trembling in expectant fear. It was bad enough this meeting had been inevitable from the moment the lights went out at the venue; now it felt like more tensions had been building up in expectation for the bad news to break and Silvon had been chosen as the scapegoat for it if Heltis-–the only man breathing in the compound who could call Korhen a ‘piss baby’ with no fear of repercussions-–felt the need to pledge protection to Silvon of all people. “And here I thought you didn’t like me.” The sarcastic quip was not planned–it wasn’t even a thought-–yet it escaped Silvon’s mouth all the same and left them frozen in anticipation of the response that was already set the moment Heltis perceived their tone.

For a moment, the artisan seemed shocked. Then his dark brows pressed down, mouth turned in the scowl that usually preceded his infamous verbal lashing–-

“I don’t gotta like ya t’ respect ya.”

There was no blow, verbal or otherwise, yet Silvon felt winded. I’m not awake right now, they told themself, flexing their toes in their shoes to force some sense of grounding. I fell asleep in the cruiser and I’m having a very bizarre dream.

Voice lowering, Heltis leaned ever-so-slightly toward Silvon as if hiding their conversation from listeners who weren’t present. “Not a dragged one o’ us woulda had the balls ta stand within arm’s length o’ that vile thing crawlin’ ‘round in a woman’s skin fer more ‘n a day let alone months . Not without wringin’ ‘er bejeweled neck ourselves ‘nyway.”

The intrusive thought returned as Silvon got a better look at the broad man, finally able to glean that the pallid look of the crafter’s azurine skin had less to do with his time spent abroad in skies of other shades and more to do with what felt like a long time without any light at all. A sick twist gripped Silvon’s stomach, threatening them with memories they didn’t have time to address of pale, lightless skin. This seemed to be visible through the calm facade-–or they’d simply been silent too long and Heltis took notice-–the man giving Silvon’s shoulder a well-meaning whump to catch their attention.

“Don’ get all in yer head before even talkin’ t’ the fool.”

Unwilling to correct the odd comfort, Silvon nodded. “I apologize. I just haven’t been looking forward to this.”

“It ain’t yer fault.”

An echo of those words spoken within the cruiser’s cab hummed in Silvon’s mind. There was a pattern beginning to present itself.

“An’ if he tries t’make it, ya tell me. Understood?”

“Understood.”

Footsteps clattered down the black hall, drawing their attention as Phaestus reappeared, seeming displeased. It was enough of a cue for Heltis to peel away and return the object to the shelf, minding his own business but undoubtedly eavesdropping. Waiting expectantly for him to speak, Silvon raised their brows. With some regret, Phaestus slowly managed, “Well... ‘e ain’t bein’ loud…”

Shekt. Silvon’s jaw tensed.

In a rush, the rest of the summary flooded out. “Bu’ Mar’vey ‘s in ‘ere.”

“Thakk.”

**

It had been dark for some time now. Knees beginning to ache from being pressed into packed dirt, Silvon desperately wanted to shift their weight to something more comfortable but feared doing so would ruin the process. There would be no redos if it didn’t go well–-they had to do it right. The first time.

Any longer though and they’d never get the taste of mud out of their mouth. Hours spent in darkness with only the smell of sandstone and damp for company left a gritty sensation on their tongue–-it was also getting unbearably warm despite the ground being relatively cool to the touch. Sighing softly, the human carefully felt along the ground for the only other things in the hut, fingertips brushing over earthenware jars on a woven mat carrying Lord-knows-what within. They were unimportant for the time being, Silvon’s interest being only in the curved neck of the water pitcher left for their use during this interim of isolation.

The water was thankfully still cool, but tinted with the taste of clay–-unfortunate it wasn’t infused, but that would affect the rite according to the elders. Silvon hadn’t even been allowed to eat for the day leading up to this meditation; the water hit their gut in the churning way it did when one drank far too much at once on an empty stomach, cold and sharp. It kept the hunger at bay at least. Mostly.

By luck or favor, as Silvon set the container back on the ground to return to meditation-–or rather, not dying of heat and boredom–-the entry of the shadowbath stirred. For the briefest of moments, light pierced in, searing the human’s eyes, urging them to throw their arm up to shield them from the intrusion.

“Aye, aye,” a low, soothing voice purred as the entrance returned to form, allowing Silvon to peer into the darkness safely. “Sorry about that, Silvi.”

“Antra?” It had only been a few hours, maybe half a day, yet Silvon’s voice creaked with disuse as if it had been weeks. The hut made it loud as well, with all outside sound completely muffled by the metal frame and mud bricks making up the structure.

Stooping to enter the low hut, a woman shuffled in and settled her many layers of patterned clothes to better sit before the young human who’d only been allowed a thin, plain set of pants and a shirt that did little to protect from the hard ground or temperature. Hers was a familiar face Silvon could pick out without any need for light, already envisioning her thick curls and the golden hoops adorning her ears and lips as she smiled with sweetness and mischief. “It’s almost time,” the woman half-whispered excitedly, the stoneware clattering as she moved it in front of herself.

Watching the shadowed motions of her hands as she arranged the jars between them, Silvon inquired in the same half-whisper, “Are you my teavat?”

“How lucky I am!” she mused in response, tucking her sleeves up and pinning them in place; without needing to see them, Silvon could envision the delicate style of the pin’s shape, as Antra only ever used a particular set of gold ones with grips shaped like birds. They still weren’t entirely sure what kind.

A mild snort escaped Silvon, earning them a light swat to the shoulder. “Hey-–!”

“You laughed first.”

“The odds are amusing, is all.” The teasing was all in good fun; they both knew it wasn’t beyond Antra to worm her way into getting what she wanted through persistence and charm. Being one of five teavats in the village who were ordained to be able to interact with rite-bearers without disrupting the procession, the odds she would be the one to assist today was not low, but she was not one to leave such things to chance.

Antra made a clicking sound with her tongue as she hefted the water container up, peering into it as if she could see the contents. “You could have left a bit more water for me.”

“It’s hot in here,” Silvon snapped back indignantly.

“It will be your fault if you have to pass water during your journey. You know you can’t stop once you’ve begun.”

Clay clattered, water dripped, then a gentle hand slipped under Silvon’s chin to keep them still. Cold, wet lines traced down Silvon’s cheek and neck, an unseen pattern driven by Antra’s intuition and skill as a teavat, each mark laced with the faint mumble of a prayer. The reality of the coming ordeal settled in more with each marking placed.

Softly, Silvon mumbled, “It really is almost time, isn’t it?”

“Mm,” the woman hummed, work pausing with her smile invisible in the darkness. “Myi’envenech, I’m so proud of you. You know that?”

They knew. Those words–-at one time unknown to Silvon’s ears–were abundant in Antra’s home, yet now it felt far more meaningful. Painful. “I…”

“Hush. You move too much.” The meditative scrawling of sacred art upon Silvon’s skin did little to soothe their nerves as she started again. They’d yet to truly determine if these painted lines offered any real kind of protection or if they were merely a placebo placed on the bearer. Rational thinking rarely seemed to lead the way among this family and their kin.

After a long while of quiet broken only paint being mixed, prayer spells being hummed and fabric rustling in the dark, Silvon felt a fair bit calmer, drawn into the sensation of cold and fingers tracing curls and placing dots across their bare skin. After completing her work, Antra gave a light sigh of satisfaction before speaking a final prayer under her breath. It was difficult to catch with how quickly she recited it, particularly when she rolled right into a new sentence as she cleaned her fingers on a scrap left among the jars. “You are fifteen now, Silvi.” She stated this in a way that felt unfamiliar still, as if she were happy Silvon had reached this milestone yet holding back. “So much in you has changed in the time we’ve spent together.”

The something else hidden in her words, even though they were warm and loving, brought the tension back in creeping fashion like a silkspinner’s web creeping up Silvon’s back.

“But…”

There it was.

“... this will prove it to yourself and to everyone else that you are ours.” A hesitation in her voice betrayed that Antra was upset, her warm hands wrapping around Silvon’s which were clammy from nerves and the beguiling mix of stuffy heat and cold walls. “The shadowbath is not the darkwalk. It will get harder.”

Perfect. Jaw set, Silvon nodded, then remembered it was too dark to see clearly. “I know.”

“Your demons will still try to hunt you on this journey. This is the only way to be rid of them, forever, once the darkness has stripped away all that shields you from yourself and you face the judgment of the Unyielding Lord Himself.”

Trying not to chew their lip, Silvon asked, “Why are you repeating all of this to me now?”

Antra’s grip tightened, her voice thicker than a moment ago. “Because I want you to know that even if you were not being reborn to us, you’d still be myi’envenech–-my little sibling.” Opening their mouth to speak, Silvon didn’t manage it before Antra continued, “I know you wish to do this for your own sake, but I’m not a fool, Silvi. You’re not the first ank’hestven to journey down the path of the darkwalk, but you are the youngest. You can wait–-you are allowed to wait-–”

Firm but gentle, Silvon spoke over the woman while changing their grip to clasp her hands carefully. “It’s tradition to take this rite at fifteen. The others were past that age when they tried. I worked hard to be allowed to do so, please let me do this.”

Even in the pitch dark, Antra was easily able to find Silvon’s glittering gaze, full of fire and starlight. Tears falling down her cheeks, the woman lifted their tangle of fingers to her mouth and pressed her lips to the teen’s knuckles for a moment. “I am so proud of you.”

Pulling her grip free, Silvon felt Antra reach for the paint once more, brow furrowing. She was already done with the protective marks, what was she doing now?

Quietly, words under her breath mumbled to the point of being unintelligible, the young woman dabbed her middle finger into the jar and traced a pattern onto her forehead, a long spell of prayer following each motion as she went, eyes closed. What words Silvon could make out were unfamiliar, spoken too quickly in such a way they blurred together into mud in their ears. When she finished, paint set aside carefully, Antra’s hands found Silvon’s cheeks and held them still as she leaned over to press her forehead to theirs, the paint wet but warm with her body heat as it transferred in mirror to their own face. “What is mine is now of yours, in protection and light.”

The urge to pull back in surprise fought the feeling of knowing to keep still, Silvon’s heart thrumming in their chest despite trying to relax. “Why…?” their voice creaked, feeling Antra sit back. If they were to reach for their forehead, Silvon knew there would be an impression of paint there that shouldn’t be.

With an unexpected amount of power behind it, Antra’s voice came through clear though quiet. “So none can question your place in my house.”

Tears stung at the edges of Silvon’s brilliant eyes while bile burned their throat–-whatever being determined that emotion and sickness could appear together was cruel and pitiless. “But isn’t-?”

Shushing them, Antra’s sleeves fluttered as she swatted the air dismissively. “My brother’s foolish adherence to tradition is his blessing and his burden. I could care less if it’s his place as eldest to offer our family’s protection to rite-bearers.”

Mad woman, as always. “But you can’t–-?”

“I can do as I wish with my blessings, Silvi.”

Tears would run the protective symbols adorning Silvon’s cheeks to uselessness, but they had no other way to express the burning warmth in their veins, their breath shuddering as they fought the desire to cry.

She called herself sister, yet every step taken in every day spent among them, Silvon felt what they likened to the unconditional love a mother should have for their children. At least, that’s how they imagined it feeling. Neither had discussed these feelings openly, but for some time the young human had thoughts that she called herself sister purely due to not being old enough to claim motherhood to the teen; it didn’t stop her from henning over them regardless, tending wounds and chastising their attitude in the way only mothers did–-mothers that they’d seen here, at least.

Kinder still than Silvon’s blood mother ever had been.

Now, after so much struggle against her kin and Silvon’s own problematic behavior, she had taken it upon herself to extend her most valuable gift as a teavat–and so defied tradition of house by superseding the eldest child’s holding on the family’s lineage blessing. Not forbidden, but rare enough to cause a stir, Antra had made a statement and proclamation of her loyalty and protection, tying Silvon to her as kin. In any instance of an ank’hestven performing a darkwalk and receiving a family blessing thereafter, it was always from the hand of the head-of-house–an elder of the home or heir of lineage–and in doing so it put the family’s very reputation on the line to pledge loyalty unto the one receiving such.

As the second child of her house, Antra could not offer her family’s blessing to Silvon even if they completed the walk–-it was not hers to give. Yet she was not without the traditional dowry offered for such a thing. None of the Ezeraki people walked without blessings of their own, each personalized for their coming of age and grown through actions and experiences. The strength of their blessings reflected their reputations, journeys and struggles as well as impressions of their lineage–-to share them was to allow another to bolster or ruin them by their own actions.

As teavat, Antra also had a very unique blessing in her arsenal that rivaled, if not dwarfed, those of her house and lineage in status.

That blessing, now impressed upon Silvon’s skin by her hand, by her choice.

“I am so proud of you,” could never be enough to convey those feelings.

The walk would be completed. Any doubts that lingered in the teen’s heart fell away, crumbled to dust on the wind under this single action. “Ah…” A faint smile twisted on Silvon’s face as they stooped, allowing the tears to run down the bridge of their nose onto the dirt floor rather than ruin the paint Antra had spent such focus on. “I think… I’m starting to understand how this works.”

“I knew you would,” the woman mused with a weak giggle. “Better now than never.” Carefully, Antra used the paint cloth to wipe her cheeks before dabbing the tear marks from her sibling’s, being mindful not to smudge her handiwork. “Are you ready, then?”

Before they had been nervous, faintly afraid they would somehow mess up a ritual they knew little about, but now there was peace. Warmth. Whatever lay ahead, Antra would be there to guide them and by her words, remain even if they failed. As a teavat, her words had power. As a teavat, her actions held weight. No one less than an elder could speak out against her wishes.

With her word at their back, there was no doubt in their soul Silvon would have a successful darkwalk. They would honor her efforts, now and in the time to come.

Silvon would not allow themself to tarnish her standing as a teavat–spirit bride to the Lord Unyielding Himself, speaker of His Will.

“I’m ready.”

**

The shadows did little to muffle the crisp rhythm of steps on metal as Silvon crossed the threshold from antechamber to dark hallway, the reverberations making the space feel narrower rather than wider. A simple trick, like every other used to unnerve the weak of will, something they had long grown used to in the estate and its many odd architectural choices. The journey to the end of the hall wasn’t long, necessarily, but it served its purpose to create isolation by muting the sounds of the compound behind layers of stone, insulation and noise dampening carbon composite that fit between the cracks, swallowing every errant ping and clunk–-be it machinery or man made, above, below and beside. Low, red lights lined either side of the floor to provide a barely-usable field of vision to walk by while daring one’s eyes to find things in the dark that weren’t there.

Nothing within the depths, real or imagined, could find purchase in Silvon’s spirit. They had walked the darkness once and returned stronger, fought their demons and claimed victory over themselves and their destiny-–nothing could measure up to that long walk. In protection and light, they affirmed to themselves, their mind’s eye still able to envision the blue- and white-tinted paint curling about their body, filled with prayers and unconditional love.

Korhen’s mind games would not win, even as the darkness dragged its ashen fingers over Silvon’s skin, ignoring the barrier of fabric and metal they wore to protect themself from such exposure. The nature of shadows, as they said. Demons–-especially those of the mind–-rarely cared if one wore tatters or tapestries on their bodies. A body was a body nonetheless, all of them subject to the things within the dark.

The longer-feeling-than-it-truly-was walk ended in a door easily twice the height of a man and wrought with woven metal over slate-steel, the dense stone serving as its own security by way of being incredibly heavy to the point of requiring electronic hinges to open. A precaution, of course. The metalwork itself was decorative, full of twisting vines full of diamond leaves and perfectly round fruits that criss-crossed the frame in an imperfect mirror. Through the middle ran a branch, tucked into the talons of a bird that sat carved in relief to the stone, black obsine eyes peering through the darkness at Silvon as they waited respectfully to be allowed inside. A groan within the walls shuddered past the sound proofing, through the floor and up Silvon’s legs until their teeth grit against each other.

Mechanical features inside the handsomely made door clanged deeply before it began to slide into the wall, granting permission to enter. Silent with eyes to the floor, the human crossed yet another threshold, finding a warmly colored divot leading to stairs that opened into an office space Silvon knew well, finding a familiar worn patch in the carpet from many feet before passing through in very different circumstances. The bottleneck effect bothered them much less than the hallway did, Silvon’s fitted shoes making faint tapping sounds as they climbed the handful of steps into the main room. With a slow breath, they met the expectant gazes of two older men gathered in front of a worn desk that had its varnish half stripped on one side.

“Mar’vey,” they greeted plainly, eyes skimming the lines of a formal suit that should be pressed clean but bore wrinkles as if it were worn for a long period, adorned with badges of rank and honor fashioned in the manner of the Westlan Authority.

Bitter, gray eyes narrowed at Silvon’s unwavering magenta ones, an equally terse tone muttering in response, “It’s lieutenent D’sola to you,” which Silvon ignored by turning their gaze to the other man in the room.

Once richly colored skin made pallid with time spent away from the light, and dark, unkempt hair twisted quickly into a hound’s tail told Silvon the man must have been either asleep until recently or been awake far longer than is generally accepted one to be. Either case was equally likely, the tiredness in his pale brown-gold eyes untelling in any direction other than that he was not pleased and hadn’t been for some time. “Mit’ravach," Silvon greeted with a faint bow of their head, feeling the frustrated way Mar’vey gestured behind their back.

“Brother Silvon,” the golden-eyed man replied, voice soft. Restrained. “Glad you can finally join us.”

“As soon as able.” A poignant glare from Mar’vey told them the man disagreed but Silvon knew by now the officer was rarely impressed by anything other than his own badges; best to ignore his silent slights to spare the headache.

The golden-eyed man’s hand rested on the table over a file folder, black sheepskin gloves-–cuffed with an embossed, bronze maker’s mark–-sliding over the manilla thoughtfully. Whatever was inside, it hadn’t been opened yet. “Brother Phaestus tells me you have a gnat following you?”

Back stiffening slightly in preparation, Silvon’s tongue touched their teeth to form an appropriate response. “Miss Oinn ,” the disdain in their tone made it clear there was no respect for that title, “insisted I bring her driver to the meet zone.” Both men scowled, as expected. “After she overruled my first attempt to decline, I knew it would be easier to simply cooperate, which is why we changed the location at the last moment. He’s been instructed to wait in the area. I believe Chanis snapped a picture of his face, in the event-–”

Snapping, Mar’vey cut in confusedly, “Chanis?? Who in the shell is Chanis?”

“Calm yourself, brother Mar’vey,” the golden-eyed man hushed, silencing the officer who looked as if he’d been slapped. With the same tone of calmness, he asked, “Who is Chanis?”

Of course, Silvon realized, meeting a withering look from Mar’vey without bowing. “Zye’Heltis’ recent creation, mit’ravach. ”

“Ah.” That was that. The man adjusted his shoulders which made the thick collar of fur and beads clatter as he shrugged it into place, one hand wrapping around the tie that held it together.

It was then that Silvon realized that this was not simply a regular meeting to provide updates and discuss the incident . Something major had occurred, enough so that it roused the weary man from ritual meditation without even a chance to change. The knot that had been forming in the pit of the human’s stomach turned icy cold.

Mar’vey, ever the ignorant one of the room’s mood, cleared his throat while glancing at the file folder expectantly. “Korhen.”

“Yes, yes,” the man sighed, fingers drumming against the cover. “In a moment. I’ve been waiting for Silvon to give his account, so we can wait a bit more to wrap up the details.” This displeased the military officer who gave a sharp breath but nothing more. Gesturing that they now had the floor, Korhen’s pale eyes lingered on Silvon’s face, studying them. “Tell us what happened, brother Silvon.”

Letting out a slow breath, Silvon carefully recounted the events of the week, the grip on their gut tightening. “Everything went to plan exactly as we’d coordinated. All of the attendees were accounted for, the venue was locked down with security to prevent the paparazzi from getting in and causing a ruckus. The speech was delivered to soft applause.” Mar’vey visibly gagged before correcting his suit collar. At least we agree on that much, they mused, noting that Korhen’s expression didn’t waver even a bit. “ Sunn and ulsen were prepared to perform for the attendees, sunn even seemed… excited, I suppose is one way to put it.”

Mar’vey made a sarcastic laugh, shaking his head. A sidelong warning glance from Korhen made him still.

“And ulsen ?” the tired man inquired, holding eye contact as his focus switched from Mar’vey. “He was operating as expected?”

“Yes.” Gut twisting, Silvon held the challenge calmly, well-practiced in plain lying with how often they hid the truth from Vissara. The best lies had a drop of truth to them. “His OS alternator was working just as intended. He knew the Task at hand and was prepared to initiate the final toast if she did not.”

“He better have,” Mar’vey grumbled, sniffing indignantly.

Korhen ignored him. “And yet?”

They could not bring themself to disclose that ulsen had been acting… odd just prior to the incident. Skittish. Until they were certain whether it was a matter of correlation or causation, the tight grip in their body begged that detail be kept to themself. Logically, there was no possible way ulsen had arranged the incident with his limited access to anything outside the estate, but Silvon knew well Korhen was not likely to see it that way. Pushing a regretful grimace onto their face, Silvon leaned into the expected reaction, sighing deeply. “And yet as I left the floor in preparation, everything went wrong. The rooftop had a wonderful view of the Sky-Beyond-the-Sky but absolutely no protection.”

Once more, Mar’vey interrupted with, “Eighteen stories up in the air tends to be its own protection,” yet this time it was a valid point he made, not simply pointless commentary. The location of the party was precisely why no one was prepared, as skyriders and gliders were hard enough to come by for purchase let alone learn to fly for an individual. A swarm of them descending on one place? Unheard of.

“Exactly.” Agreeing with his statement seemed to please the officer, his chin lifting. What a child. “By the time I got there, I’d lost sight of the units and the guests. Wherever that woman was at the time, I can’t say.”

The amicable mood faded just as quickly as it came on as Mar’vey mused, “Some asset you are,” which seemed to be enough for Korhen who’s voice finally took on an edge that hinted at his tightly withheld anger.

“Enough. ”

Hands up defensively, Mar’vey sputtered, “Am I wrong though? He hasn’t exactly said anything we don’t already know!”

This time it was Silvon’s dismissive wave that stopped the loosened cork from coming free as Korhen’s body language became agitated, his full breadth causing the military man to shrink back like a boar had broken cover at him. “I apologize for my lack of details, but if you like I can provide a sizeable account of the floor tiles? I spent quite a while staring at them with a gun barrel pressed to my head.”

Imagining the guffaw Phaestus would let out almost made Silvon’s stone faced mask crack. The levity would be welcome. Unfortunately, neither of the men seemed to be amused by such dry humor, brushing past the fact there had been genuine danger for Silvon at the moment described. That much was expected at least.

“It provides much needed accountability for what happened,” Korhen clipped out, shoulders squared. “As the only witness, it pays to hear what he saw first hand, does it not?”

In most cases Silvon had witnessed, the offending party would be easily cowed by the broad man’s words; few would dare to incite Korhen’s wrath by needlessly answering a rhetorical question. Yet this time, to their muted shock, Mar’vey actually lifted his head somewhat, arms folded. “It does,” the officer agreed, glancing to the file once more, “but it doesn’t change the fact he didn’t have anything new to share. Which is why I think it’s pertinent that you look at what I brought sooner rather than later.” The faint touch of pride in Mar’vey’s smirk bode ill for Silvon’s mind as he gave a sidelong glance to the human, Korhen’s own face scrunching ever-so-slightly at the unusual display of gall. “Both of you.”

Exchanging a look of genuine curiosity and concern, Silvon approached Korhen’s side as the broad man finally flipped open the file to the facing page that cited the details of the contents. Requests for criminal processing information signed by the E’rtan police chief caught their eye quickly.

Smug, Mar’vey went on, “We identified the ringleader of the little flash mob. Conveniently, she’s been detained in the upper precinct where an old buddy from training currently works.”

Turning the page, a pair of pale gold eyes stared back from an unflattering mugshot, a fresh bruise standing out against richly colored skin alongside small, old scars on the lips and nose, both swollen and smeared in blood and grime from a scuffle that likely ended with her face in the pavement.

“It’s not the best picture of your sister I’ve ever seen,” Mar’vey went on, obviously pleased with his contribution to Korhen’s growing rage, “but hard to mistake those eyes.”

As recognition hit Silvon like a runaway cart, they instinctively stepped away, a sick snap of bile filling their throat that nearly overshadowed the burning rage emanating from the man in the fur cloak. Though he was a master of hiding his feelings in his own right, Korhen had limits. Limits that were being consistently tested in the last few days with how much he would tolerate from mistakes and failures. It was only by necessity that Mar’vey was spared the breadth of the man’s rage, making use of the same protections Heltis had as an indispensable tool to the cause.

Protections that Silvon did not share.

Snapping the folder shut and tossing it to the desk, Korhen’s heavy cloak rustled as it whipped around his feet, the broad man making his way to a door in the far corner with little else to say. Only after it clicked shut in his wake did Mar’vey, not fool enough to test the man more than once in a day, express his frustration. “That’s it? No ‘thank you’?”

“Mar’vey,” Silvon said firmly, drawing the officer’s gaze, “is it wise to behave that way?”

Snorting, the blue eyed man gathered his intel and leaned on the desk, far too comfortable in Korhen’s absence. “I had to burn a few favors for this info, you know. A little gratitude would be appreciated.”

Venom seethed in Silvon’s veins, eyes glinting behind half frames as their gaze met Mar’vey’s, catching the faintest bit of his brow twitching in response before a fractional flicker broke the eye contact Silvon forced on him. “Then perhaps exercise patience, lieutenant D’sola .” The man scowled. “It’s not as if you didn’t just reveal that the culprit that ruined months of planning is mit’ravach ’s own sister.”

Rolling his eyes as Silvon turned to leave-–it would be in their best interest to tell the others about this reveal before Korhen gathered his wits and made a rash judgment call-–the older man couldn’t help himself, pride bolstered by his own self-importance. A self-fueling cycle that grew tiresome quickly. “That’s exactly why he needed to know sooner rather than later. It’s kind of a big thakking deal for us. Not that I expect you to understand that.”

Stilling in the entryway, a furious wave poured over Silvon’s skin held back only by the door opening on its own before they could reach for it. On the other side with a plain but pleasant expression stood Chanis, head tipping slightly as they took in Silvon’s rigid posture. “I have the information of the driver for the mit’ravach ,” they stated, presenting their folded hands and the small device within containing the data scraped from the intelligence specialists Mar’vey had recommended.

This man would become insufferable by day’s end, it seemed.

“That’s perfect,” said insufferable man mused from where he stood, ass planted comfortably at the desk’s edge as if it were his own. “Bring it here.”

Stepping aside, Silvon allowed the bot to enter but lingered within the bounds of the room, counting the faint steps of the lithe unit as they ascended to the office proper. A pause in the air held Silvon still in order to catch the faintest sound of movement. A heel clicked. Fabric shifted. In their mind’s eye, Silvon could see the demanding angle of Mar’vey’s palm as he reached for the device-–and how Chanis held it firm to their chest.

“I said give it here,” Mar’vey grumbled, the flutter of his hand through the air as he failed to snatch the piece of equipment proving Silvon’s suspicion.

“I apologize, lieutenant,” Chanis replied, voice clear and matter-of-fact. “I was instructed to give this to the mit’ravach, and only he.”

Seething under his breath, “It’s mit’ravach, quit with adding ‘the’, it doesn’t make sense!” Mar’vey held his hand out once more. “And he’s not available, so give it here. I’ll pass it on to him when he’s ready.”

“I apologize,” Chanis replied once more, holding their ground against the demand they couldn’t obey. Silvon’s hand encircled the rail. “I am still understanding the nuances of your language. Zye’Heltis made my primary language–-”

“I don’t care, just give me the information my ops found.”

A pause. Silvon’s weight bore down on the ball of their foot as they took a step up toward the conflict, body coiled tightly with anticipation. Chanis’s voice remained plain, with no hint of shame or worry. “I cannot.”

Nails scraped wooden varnish. “You stupid-–”

Two at a time, Silvon glided up the steps, cutting off the insult with a firm, “Enough, Mar’vey,” which stalled the man’s hand as it raised to strike the offending robot who didn’t seem to notice or comprehend what was about to happen. “You're embarrassing yourself.” The man’s pale blue eyes snapped to Silvon, burning with anger and vitriol. “Chanis is obeying their Task, would you truly find reason to punish them for doing exactly what they were told when you expect no less from your own soldiers?”

Mar’vey’s open palm balled into a fist just before lowering to his side, lips curled into an ugly expression as he failed to express anything that would defend himself.

“Chanis,” Silvon went on, gesturing to the entry, “mit’ravach is indisposed for the time being, we will try again later if you wish.”

“Thank you, mexus Silvon,” the bot replied with a kind grin, turning to leave with information in hand. Seeing the urge to demand them wait cross Mar’vey’s face, the magenta eyed human gave him a sharp look of warning, stepping between the gentle unit and the man in an effort to separate them.

As expected, this did not stop the officer from trying to take the last word as they exited. “I’d be careful if I were you.” This paused Silvon’s stride just slightly, Chanis continuing down the stairs none the wiser. “If blood has proven untrustworthy, then how much patience do you think he’ll have for a hest like you?”

Silvon’s stomach churned.

Curious eyes waited at the exit, keeping Silvon from being able to respond in a timely manner; undoubtedly, Mar’vey would take it as a victory that there was no reply, the hallway becoming cold and imposing as the door blocked them from further discussion. Though they seemed unaware of the meaning behind what occurred, Chanis was rather perceptive of Silvon’s body language, falling into step at their side easily. “Mexus Silvon,” they started in a gentle tone, “may I ask what ‘hest’ means?”

Jaw twitching, Silvon lifted their chin, pushing the buzzing thought back for a moment. “You don’t know?”

Shaking their head, the richly colored bot seemed to shimmer in the dark. Proof of Heltis’ skill as an artisan. “The Ezerak tongue isn’t one I was pre-programmed with, as it’s not an available module in most markets. Zye’Heltis has been teaching me from basics but that word escapes me.”

Of course. With a resigned sigh, Silvon only managed a chaste, “Because it is not a good word,” that seemed to make the robot misstep before falling apologetically quiet.

Hest.

Outsider.

A sick burn of bile clung to Silvon’s throat as they entered the workshop, already abuzz with the current project now that break time had ended. This didn’t stop Heltis, ever perceptive of his workspace, from elbowing Phaestus who stood next to him at the work table to give their undivided attention to the human and robot pair. Coming to collect whatever Silvon had to offer, Phaestus passed between the craftsman and his creation but not before the magenta-eyed human caught a bewilderingly concerned glimmer in the old man’s eyes as he reached for the delicately crafted unit, fingers light as feathers and voice soft in a dialect that was unfamiliar to Silvon’s ears.

After a moment, they understood it had to be the one spoken in the region Heltis made his home, making it an Arribaki language family judging by the low, rumbling consonants and rolling r-sounds. Perhaps the one Chanis had implied just moments before as their primary module? Something in this particular detail settled on Silvon’s mind like a damp sheet, cold and a bit uncomfortable but hard to shake off fully without some effort.

Effort that would have to wait as the informal debriefing began. “Ya look pale an’ pissed.” A master of perception, Phaestus was.

A wry grin twisted on to Silvon’s face as they rubbed their forehead with their palm, stress pressing in more as they found their skin to be clammy. “I am always pale, Phaestus.”

To their surprise, Heltis spoke out, seeming annoyed on their behalf. “Ya had some color to ya b’fore this whole thing.”

“Uye,” Phaestus agreed, laying a hand on the smaller human’s shoulder in an effort to comfort them. “Keepin’ ya inside all th’time’s makin’ ya pale, yad, but--” Over the stocky man’s shoulder, Silvon made poignant eye contact with the master artisan, both understanding they suffered the same affliction for the same reason.

“What color I had will return when this ordeal is over,” Silvon insisted tiredly, observing as Chanis handed their maker the device they’d refused Mar’vey.

This seemed to make Phaestus’s brow purse. “I mean when ya got ‘ere. Somethin’ happen-–?” A glint of realization flashed, the confused turn of his brow becoming angry swiftly. “What’d Mar’vey say?”

Shekt. Pushing back on the man’s shoulders to prevent him from taking a step toward the hallway, Silvon used their most dismissive tone in an effort to diffuse the situation. “Nothing more than usual.”

“So ‘e spoke wi’ ‘is ass an’ not ‘is mouth?”

A snort snuck out of Silvon’s chest which seemed to amuse Phaestus enough to relax somewhat. “Yes.” Just barely, the human caught Chanis leaning over to whisper to their maker for a moment. “There were… complications and he felt put off by the lack of mit’ravach ’s gratitude.”

“Uh-oh.”

Just as Phaestus deigned to ask what had occurred, a sudden, belligerent, “WHAT?” from Heltis shook the rafters, startling the apprentices and earning a frightened clutch of the chest as Phaestus doubled over. Chanis did not seem put off by this in the least, all eyes turning to the master craftsman who reacted with disappointment and disgust. Eyes locked on Silvon, the human felt the urge to shrink, swallowing it back. “He called you a what ?”

Grimacing as Phaestus glanced between the pair, baffled, Silvon inhaled through their teeth. “Please, zye’Heltis, don’t sound so surprised.”

“I’m not, but that don’ mean I’m happy t’ hear it!”

Once more, Silvon did not comprehend how this man of all of them would be the one so offended on their behalf when he was known as a strict traditionalist himself, nearly as much as Korhen. “Mar’vey’s attitude is the least of our concerns at this time.” The way Phaestus’ eyes scrunched with suspicion told Silvon he was catching on to what had transpired in the office. “What’s most important is figuring out if there’s a way to keep mit’ravach from falling into rage and declaring war on his kin.”

Anger and suspicion drained away from the men’s faces like water over a ridge, both growing still for a moment until Heltis sensed his workers being nosey and snapped at them to return to work-–they did hastily, keeping their heads low. The next moment had Phaestus shaking his head in disbelief, looking like he wanted to get sick right then. “It’s not…” The heartbreak he felt was audible enough the sick feeling jumped into Silvon’s throat, refreshing the sour bile taste that had been waning. In a surprising act of comfort, Heltis placed his hand on the other man’s back and gave it a comforting rub, pallid face now grim as he processed what was to come.

“The enemy has not changed,” Silvon attempted to affirm, choosing to meet the confused gaze of Chanis over the conflicted eyes of the Ezeraki men. “Vissara Oinn will still answer for her crimes against the Ezeraki people in due time. This… sibling feud will need to wait or we will never resolve this.”

Ever the pillar of reason, Heltis nodded slowly, keeping a firm grip on Phaestus who was doing far less well in terms of managing his emotions. “She’s alive,” was the next thing the portly man managed to get out, half relieved, half distressed.

Resignedly, Silvon nodded, placing their hand on the man’s free shoulder in solidarity. “Yes. Antra is alive… and she unknowingly made herself our enemy.”

~

It was still.

Enough time had passed without a peep or pitter that Jenn felt safe in assuming her guests had, in fact, fallen asleep. Enough so that checking on them remotely with the twins felt unnecessary, their worried chirps being met with a gentle shush as she opened the sitting room door just a fraction to avoid letting light spill in too far. With her eyes closed against the shadows, Jenn slipped into the room, right eye cracked to take in the dim shapes of furniture as her iris glinted against the backlight. A slumped figure bowed against his knees on the floor at the foot of the couch, guarding the lanky robot who curled into the cushions behind him. A short story of worry and protection that almost made her smile.

Almost.

Padding on the balls of her feet, the human silently crossed the room to scoop a blanket from the armoire in the back, a patchwork thing of misshapen scraps recycled into something usable, though the stitches were messy. Lightly, Jenn moved close to and knelt by the resting robots, breath slow and eye now attuned to the darkness enough to pick out the details of their shells with ease. Moon’s brow was creased with stress, even when powered down, the plastimold lines between panels protecting sensitive motors and nodes giving his face remarkably subtle expression now held tight in worry even while resting; she likened it to a tense jaw in humans–-a small but persistent pressure made from concerns left unaddressed.

A handsome face shouldn’t be so pressed with worry, she mused, carefully draping the blanket over his shoulders with a soft flutter under the echo of her mother’s voice humming in her mind and earning that faint grin that had been trying to form. It took a bit of restraint not to tap him on the nose in the same manner Zyla had whenever her husband grew weary with work. She felt it wouldn’t end very well if she tried.

A deep breath made Jenn freeze, Moon’s chassis heaving as his exhaust cycled with a deep sigh–-he didn’t wake. Nothing changed in his activity level, no systems whirred to life with wakefulness.

Releasing her held breath through her nose, Jenn turned slightly to the other brother, his back to her as he pressed his face against a throw pillow, the thin blanket he’d been using bunched along the cushions where it had fallen. Doubtful the cold bothered him in the way it did organic bodies, Jenn still felt the need to carefully tug the cheap cover back into place, nestling it over his nape and tucking it against his body so it wouldn’t fall again. Absently, as she smoothed the hem of the fleece into place, something caught her eye about how the faint light from the hall scattered over the golden bot’s head case, picking out faint seam lines where seams shouldn’t be. Biting the inside of her lip, she dared to trace the flick of shadow and light with the edge of her nail–it was rough.

Not a seam.

The lightest amount of texture tickled the pads of Jenn’s fingers as she found more and more whispers of damage on what should have been a flawless work of metal. What under the shell…? Thankfully, this one was a deep sleeper and didn’t seem to notice at all that someone was touching him, even as the human leaned near with both eyes trained on the marks that were becoming easier to find criss-crossing along the lines of his component accesses. Most worryingly, they seemed to cluster around the flashports that created his halo of light and the seam where case met facial mold.

Her breath came slowly, a wave of deep emotions bubbling in her stomach that made her want to be sick with each thought that slammed into focus, one after another.

Were these self-inflicted?

Why?

She felt she knew, and yet--

Could they be evidence? Inflicted not by him, but by the one they were running from?

Were they from tampering?

How had she not noticed before?

I did. Jenn swallowed. I thought they were from the fall.

These were too specific. Too suspicious.

A nasty chill lit up her spine like lightning, a rush of thoughts connecting together all at once: The Sun had taken blame for the tampering of his brother’s memories, but what if that wasn’t true?

What if he’d been made to think that to save face for the one doing the tampering?

It was possible. The credentials of their owner were locked behind encryptions that would take hours, if not days, to crack without the right software and it posed too much risk to their AI if she poked around virtually for more than a few minutes at a time. There was every chance that person was capable of or had access to the means to do exactly that.

This was E’rta after all.

Withdrawing her hand for a moment, Jenn rocked back on her heels, gnawing on the inside of her cheek as she thought carefully over what to do next. There was no way to check for sure-–not here, not with her rudimentary gadgets meant for Silver and lower. Even with Twii and Laa’s processing power fighting the encryption software and Moon agreeing to cooperate, Jenn could offset the firewalls only so much and for so long. She needed the right tool for the job, as her father would say.

Getting there in one piece would be the hard part.

Guess that’s where I come in, she affirmed, gently pressing her palms on the sleeping robots on either side of herself so her fingers splayed flat at the meeting point of their shell halves. Low and careful, she spoke, “On my honor, I will take you far away from here so you can live safe and free. I promise.”

She left more quickly than she entered, the room returning to shadow with a sigh. A heartbeat passed before Sun stirred, picking his head up from the pillow to better see the room was empty for himself. Brow creased, his teal irises lingered on the entryway for a long moment, thoughts spinning under the active suppression of his illumination system.

What just happened?

Sleep was never easy to find, even on the gentlest of resting hours, neither brother willing to drop their guard entirely if they could help it. This time, it was Moon who needed to sleep more, the gentle touch of his brother’s fingers brushing his neck as the golden bot hummed their nonsense tune, lulling him into sleep without much fuss despite his insistence on guarding them both from this renewed threat. However, Sun knew from the moment the ether was mentioned that he wasn’t going to rest today. Too many things begged for attention that he could only spare once they were down for charging.

So he laid there, concentrating, always at the verge of powering off but never quite slipping over the edge as he sorted through files and memories to flag things he wanted to organize later. It was soothing at least, and his secret to always knowing how to find things when Moon struggled to recall the date at times; of them, Moon was far more aware of the tone and mood of a memory and rarely categorized them beyond how he felt at the time. Disorganized but effective in its own right.

Sun himself preferred the categorical logging of moments that allowed him some degree of separation, to simmer his feelings down to bits of logic and data he could step away from and view like they were a book or audio drama rather than his own life-–it kept the messy feelings in check if he could see a summary of what occurred without opening them fully. Perhaps Moon would do better by adopting the practice himself for a while, Sun sometimes thought while shoving tabs this way and that. It would provide some relief, if nothing else.

Not going to happen, he knew without more than a moment to think on it. That discussion had come and gone many times.

This personal reflection time left Sun wide awake and acutely aware of the dark sitting room when the door opening caught his attention. Stopping his sorting and tagging, the golden bot manually counted his breath cycle and canceled his light ring, pressing every unnecessary program down with familiar ease by shutting off all but the bare essentials that ran under the ‘rest cycle’ subprogram. If there was one thing he did better than his brother aside from being naturally sociable, it was this:

Sun had yet to be caught faking sleep by anyone.

Including Moon.

Jenn proved no different at being able to detect his awareness as she shuffled through the room. If he hadn’t shut off his reactive system processes, his panic would have surged his pulse light and alerted her instantly-–unfortunately it left him unable to move nearly at all since it was connected to basic motor function which in turn tied into processes that did not fall under the rest cycle system. What do I do??? he fretted, mentally tracking the very faint sound of weight pressing into the carpet, the pressure of the air itself seeming to shift as she moved past them. Even that was barely detectable; if he hadn’t heard the door, Sun would believe he was simply hallucinating her being there at all.

How different she was, the golden bot found himself pondering, compared to miss Oinn who endeavored to fill every corner of whatever room she was in with her presence. Jenn moved like a shadow, unwilling to be detected, masking herself from perception.

It would be fun to watch her and Moon challenge each other in stealth, he’d thought wistfully just as her presence appeared at his back, nearly startling him into action.

But he held still, listening–-praying-–she wasn’t about to fulfill Moon’s fear right then and gut them while they slept. A flutter had him screaming silently that his last sight wasn’t going to be the back of a couch in a house that wasn’t his own–-

Moon sighed.

Hands touched his back.

Please please please please–-

A worn ruffle brushed his neck, steady fingers tucking him in snugly to the couch. He nearly forgot to cycle his breath as shock and confusion froze him in place, anticipation switching suddenly under the act of care and consideration. That doesn’t-–she doesn’t know–-? Fingers traced the edge of his component case, the urge to pull away stuttering against the manual suppression of movement.

A nail skimmed a specific spot.

He knew that spot.

It lingered a moment before her hand pulled away.

What is happening??

Warm skin rested at his back, just between his shoulders–-there was a gyro nodule in his chassis just on the other side of his shell that kept his long body in balance, especially when dancing. A direct hit to that spot could concuss the device or worse, dislodge it, and ruin his ability to walk–-and run away. She had to know that, surely. Was it a threat?

But her words denied that, voice gentle but almost undetectable-–she wasn’t trying to be heard despite choosing to speak.

A promise?

Moon’s worries didn’t make sense all over again. She couldn’t have known he was awake, could she?

What good was a promise no one heard if it was meant to be a lie?

Why would she make such a promise when they weren’t awake to hear it?

As he stared at the entryway, lips parted in thought despite lacking words to speak, Sun tried to comprehend what he’d accidentally witnessed–-what it meant that she was not being performative. There was no benefit if it was not genuine.

Moon was wrong.

He had to be. It didn’t make sense otherwise.

But why…?

Chapter Text

Morning came with day, the light filling the bungalow yellow and bright and natural. Night had passed while sleeping, Moon’s components whirring and straining as he unfolded from the floor. Fabric scrunched under his fingers as he brushed his shoulder, confusion breaking through the haze of pre-awareness that came with deep sleep. I must have been pretty worn out, he mused, taking a look around only to find himself alone.

Coming to his feet in a fluid motion, Moon turned once, the blanket falling to the ground in a whump . “Sun?” His wires tensed in on themselves for a breath–panicking would do him no good. With a steadying breath, the navy bot strained to listen for signs of motion in the house.

Distant clattering told him someone was in the kitchen. A start.

After bundling the patchwork quilt up and setting it on the couch with the fleece blanket Sun had been using, Moon made his way through the single hall that led to the source of the sound. Nothing seemed out of place thus far. Leaning in through the archway, he was perplexed to find his brother humming as he chopped something at the counter, rays flickering and spinning cheerfully. An urf greeted him, drawing Sun’s attention from his task; Rukbat had found a seat on one of the chairs, tail wagging rhythmically on the base, waiting patiently for something with eyes trained on the new arrival.

“Well woken,” the golden bot said warmly, smiling in a way that made the tension ease from Moon’s shoulders–

–stilling, Moon straightened, eyes darting through the room and finding no sign of the human. Sun was far too at ease given the situation. “Where is she?”

Smile fading to a disappointed pout, Sun stopped chopping and folded his arms, the knife tucked safely under his elbow. “That’s not how you say good morning, Moon.”

Morning? Brow dipping, the darker bot scowled. “You’re a bit too relaxed, don’t you think? What’re you even doing?”

With a flick of his fingers, Sun turned back to the chopping board and set back to his task, chin high. “I’m making breakfast, that’s what.”

Pinching between his eyes, Moon sighed, leaning on the door jam for a moment. Resigned to the fact that he wouldn't get answers until he played along, the darker bot wondered, “And what’s for breakfast?” Clearly Sun wanted to show off something.

“I’m learning to make omelets!”

The pride in his voice brought a wry smile to Moon’s face, followed by a nudge of guilt. Despite it all, Sun was in a good mood. It would be cruel to remind him there was nothing to feel good about–especially when the source of worry was nowhere to be found. As he pondered on reasserting the seriousness of their situation, Moon’s eyes fell back to the canine that watched him with glittering, curious lenses tinted a vibrant green. A simple lift of a paw and a tilt of the head almost had Moon petting the thing without hesitation; only his own discomfort with animals stopped him from doing just that, his hand recoiling to his side slowly. Rukbat whined and sniffed, displeased he was denied.

Ignoring the hound’s demand for attention, Moon inquired, “When did you get so skilled with a kitchen knife?” as he watched his brother’s hands quickly cascade the blade over a long vegetable, the stem falling into neat slices that were further chopped into mince with the ease of one of Vissara’s personal cooks.

“While you were asleep,” Sun answered simply, adding the mince to a bowl before moving to the next stem. An unspoken urge to follow up prompted him to continue, “I woke up first and asked Jenn if she could show me how.”

Being alone with the human made Moon’s insides twist. “Was that a good idea?” he hissed, aware that Rukbat was listening. “Why didn’t you wake me?”

Sun’s rhythmic chopping stopped, a heartbeat of silence prodding Moon’s mind with unease before a simple answer reached him. “You said we should try to learn as much as we can while we can. Learning to cook seems like a good idea to me.”

There was no levity, no glance, no change in expression. Just matter-of-fact. He didn’t even look over his shoulder to answer.

Moon felt sick, for lack of a better word, as he realized the subtext of his concern was not lost on the lanky bot. For all intents and purposes, he might as well have called Sun stupid for allowing himself to be alone with Jenn after their talk. It would have been more honest, at least. “Sun–”

Holding the knife against his palm so the edge wasn’t facing out, Sun pointed to the far door that led outside, eyes still on the chopping board. “Jenn is outside trying to bring her tower back online if you need to speak with her.” Then he went back to his task, humming softly.

Too many things jumbled together in Moon’s mind, each wanting to be addressed but all they managed to get out was a, “Why?”

This time, Sun kept working though his pace slowed. “The aurora returned just a few minutes ago, right before you got up in fact. She said her tower is supposed to come on on its own but it’s moody so she went to manually start it. We’re still on backup power.”

The guilt bubbled in Moon’s chest, begging to be let out. “Sun, I didn’t–”

A shudder rumbled through the floor and walls, a deep groan of machinery shaking off slumber along with the clatter and tinkle of dishes and pans on shelves, breathing life into the house as if it were a beast waking from hibernation. “Ah, speaking of that,” Sun said quietly, looking to the door as the sound settled back to a barely detectable drone. Not a moment later, the human appeared, hair pulled back from her face into a nubby hound’s tail and sporting yet another pair of leggings with a fitted knit top that hugged her comfortably.

Moon absently wondered if she owned any real clothing at all or if she subsisted on pajamas for all occasions.

“And a good morning to you, sleepyhead,” she greeted after seeming surprised to see him up and about. The casualness set his nerves on edge, however Jenn passed off any response he might have had to plod around the table so her hound could have his face rubbed. “How’s breakfast coming?”

“I’m heating the pan right now~” Sun answered, his chipper tone back as if it never left.

“Good, cuz I’m–”

Jenn’s musings on her appetite stopped dead as a trill beep alerted the three of them to something awry, the melodic alarm growing louder quickly as the source closed in on their location. A pink blur careened through the hall from some hidden nook, landing squarely in the human’s waiting hands, facial lens reading emergency call as a code scrolled across the bottom. Confused gazes darted to each other before settling on Jenn, who seemed baffled and concerned as she read the call register, a hiccup of words blaring once her eye tracking was registered. “ --RESPOND IMMEDIATELY, ALL– ”

Then, in the same blink she comprehended who was calling, Jenn turned to leave with only a brief, “I have to take this,” while bringing the pocket computer with her. Rukbat followed silently, tail alert.

The pair of robots stared for a moment at the empty space before sharing a mutual look of befuddlement–then Sun shrugged, choosing to focus on his omelet making. The lack of concern for what could be happening made Moon stare his brother down for a moment, unable to understand how he was so easily able to ignore a suspicious net call like that. Feeling this, the golden bot murmured, “Yes?”

“Aren’t you concerned what that was about? Seemed important.”

Hesitating a moment as he changed his wording– it’s probably nothing– Sun replied, “It could be anything.”

“Exactly.” Waiting expectantly, Moon’s jaw set as Sun continued to prepare eggs for frying.

“Well?” Sun retorted to the silence, sensing his brother’s indignant expression and shrugging a shoulder to the door.

“Well?”

“ You’re the one that’s good at sneaking around, not me.”

Ah . Face darkening to purple, Moon turned toward the entryway and lowered his center of gravity as he shifted his weight for balance. Of course he wouldn’t try to eavesdrop, he’s harder to ignore than I am. Sense was not coming easy today, Moon felt.

As he crossed into the hallway, Sun’s voice found one last chance to reach him, tone plain and matter-of-fact. “I’ve gotten pretty good at pretending everything is fine when it’s not, haven’t I?”

Had he not been balanced, Moon would have stumbled as the guilt punched him square in his core. Of course Sun seemed nonchalant–he was doing exactly as they agreed to by playing into cooperation. It had been Moon’s idea, even! Idiot , the dark bot scolded himself as he paused at the front door, which was left ajar. A familiar voice spoke from the other side, though where he stood he couldn’t parse out the words.

Chancing it, Moon slowly slipped through and found his quarry immediately, her back to him as she faced out over her yard from the landing. On either side sat her tiny bots, their focus tied to the call screen projecting from Twii’s facial disk; around Jenn’s neck sat her visor–or something like it, at least. She really likes blue , Moon thought as he crept nearer, pausing only as an idea occurred to him.

Why was he trying to be sneaky? If she had nothing to hide, it wouldn’t matter, right?

Straightening, Moon sauntered to the edge of the patio and leaned on the rail, deciding he was entitled to watch the sky while he waited for breakfast–should she ask, of course. Once settled, he manually routed his priority focus to audio in order to catch whatever she said more clearly, filtering out the buzz from the screen as well as the sounds of nature that came in with it.

“... right now?” Jenn’s voice held some amount of disbelief as well as resignation; whatever it was, she’d already accepted it as reality.

“We’ve already been trying since before nightfall,” a rich, male voice replied, a touch pleading. The same voice that called for a response before. “Believe me, no one is happy about this but we’re desperate.”

“No, I can tell.” She seemed regretful. “I just… I can’t bring them with me right now–”

Moon tensed, breath hissing, as Jenn suddenly turned, her bright cyan eyes locking onto him for a moment before she scowled. Moon wiggled his fingers at her, not backing away from the challenge only for her to loop her device over her head–headphones, apparently, the same she’d used before when he snuck up on her in the kitchen–and route the audio there, cutting off half the conversation .

Attention turning back to her companion, Jenn grunted at the caller. “Huh? No, I’m here, sorry.” Her gaze snapped to Moon for just a moment, warning him of something or trying to drive him away.

Got you , he pushed back, meeting her stare.

“Mm… yeah, I’ll be alone but it’s doable.”

She started moving with quickness and purpose, coming up the steps with Twii in hand as her attention slipped back to the call. Moon froze, body coiling tight as he feigned nonchalance, keeping track of her only with the very edge of his peripheral vision.

“Not a problem, I’ll make do.” Jenn stopped, covering Twii’s face as if blocking a mouthpiece to quietly add, “You know it’s rude to eavesdrop, right?” before continuing past into the house.

Once she was out of sight, Moon pivoted on his heel, darting along the patio until he reached the door leading directly to the kitchen. Sun seemed startled to see him enter that way, pausing midway to placing a rather large, fluffy egg down. Whatever tension there had been prior was put away to make room for genuine concern. “What’s wrong?”

Finger to his mouth, Moon quick-stepped over, pulling Sun near so he could speak quietly. “I’m not sure exactly, but whatever she was discussing she felt the need to hide half the conversation when she saw me listening.”

“She… saw you??”

“It was on purpose. Why would she need to hide a call if it wasn’t something suspicious?”

A dismissive frown wiped the concern from Sun’s face. “Maybe because calls are private affairs and no one is entitled to hear them except the ones calling?”

Mouth pursed for a moment, Moon went on, “Sure, fine, shame on me then. I still heard something though.”

“Like what?”

“Whoever’s calling is desperate for something they’ve been trying to get since before night came, and they need it now .”

A flicker of worry danced over Sun’s features. “Okay, but again, that could be anything –”

Zipping and sending with the precision of a throwing knife, Moon offered the clip of audio for Sun to interpret for himself. The concern lingered as he accepted the file, irises dimming fractionally as it played in his head–before it finished, his features scrunched painfully. “Okay,” he breathed, finally setting the plate down so he wouldn’t drop it. If we’re being direct now… Picking and clipping his carefully curated memory files for what he needed, Sun sent back a small bit of data for his brother to ponder just as he had.

Why_?.mem

Brow furrowed as the “receive” prompt hovered in the midfield of Moon’s inner and outer displays, he was only met with a neutral but expectant gaze from his brother. Whatever this was, it clearly had to do with the situation at hand to warrant such a look. Accepting it, Moon ran a code to unzip, sort and access the data–

–a crisp burning sensation brought his hand to his head as he winced, an invisible knife piercing through his components as an error notice blocked the acceptance of the new memory file. Startled, Sun faintly reached out only to be stopped by Moon waving his free hand dismissively as he allowed the errant blip to fade, the clip being deleted automatically for ‘probable corruption’. After a moment, the pain ebbing away, Moon managed a half-hearted, “Well, that’s inconvenient.”

“What happened?” Asking felt like the proper response despite knowing deep down what the answer was, Sun’s guilt lurking like a predator underwater, not daring to break the surface tension yet still very much present.

“Best guess?” Moon replied slowly as he looked over his diagnostics, which came back clean of any new issues. “The memory corruption probably sees external files as the same kind that got burnt out. Could be a safety feature, or the metadata flags it as foreign and so it’s evicted to prevent further damage.”

After a moment, Sun murmured, “The what?” which drew Moon’s attention from his inner HUD fully.

“What?”

“The what-data? What did you just say?” It was phrased as a request for clarification, however Moon felt it was less that Sun didn't hear him correctly and more that he hoped he hadn’t.

“The metadata…?”

Brows creasing, Sun said quietly, “That sounds like something the techs say.”

Pondering this for a moment, Moon replied, “Does it?”

With a slow nod, the golden bot lowered his voice to bluntness. “It does.” Before Moon could interject for explanation, he added, “Actually, I’m pretty sure that is something they’ve spoken about before,” as a few keyword tabs popped in from his own memory storage, cross labeled with red flags. “I don’t know what it is obviously, but it’s not something we should know.”

A worrying chill tickled down Moon’s back alongside the urge to defend himself. “What’re you trying to say?”

A touch shocked at Moon’s tone, Sun blurted, “I’m saying I got in trouble for asking about it once!” before he could stop himself, biting the inside of his lip. “Sorry–I… I’d show you but you can’t see it anyway.”

Clicking his tongue, Moon scoffed, “Of course,” while shooting a frustrated look to the floor.

“Why do you know what that is?” the golden bot went on, unwilling to let this topic slide without explanation. “Nevermind what it’s for. I certainly don’t, so it’s probably not something we’re allowed to know.”

Catching himself before he could snap, Moon uttered, “I… realize that. I don’t know why I said it.”

“That’s not good, Moon–”

“I realize that.”

“Maybe–”

Eyes snapping to the lanky robot before he could finish his suggestion, the darker one snapped, “No.”

Shoulders squaring, Sun tried again. “It’s our only way–”

–but Moon wouldn't allow it. “I said no.”

“Why not ?”

Shifting his weight to stand against the unusual amount of attitude his brother displayed, Moon tersely clipped, “What good would it do us to tell anyone I know this?”

Jaw tensing and rays whirring, Sun answered back just as firmly, “Not anyone, just Jenn.”

“Need I remind you she might be trying to scrap us? This would just be justification!”

“It’s exactly because it’s illegal for robots to know about our own construction, Moon!” Though his voice stayed quiet, the conviction made Moon’s stance break, causing him to half-step back.

He knew this, of course, but having it forced into his face was still a wound to his pride if nothing else.

Sun sensed this chance to speak freely. “I got in trouble for asking a simple question when the techs were doing routine check up–they said it wasn’t my business and if they told me they’d have to scrap me. I’d never heard of it before then, and it was never mentioned after.”

Quietly, Moon wondered, “How do you know it’s illegal, then?” with a suspicious twist settling in his gut.

Eyes moving away for a moment, Sun’s posture relaxed. “Silvon told me.” Moon’s chin lifted at this, not expecting that name to come up again. “They found me after, so I guess the techs must’ve said something. They explained the regulations to me and that I need to be careful what I ask in the future because I could get in a lot of trouble.”

For a moment, Moon studied his brother, his expression and halo that dimmed slightly while recounting the incident. He thought over what to say–if he should say anything at all.

How would he explain that he knew he wasn’t supposed to know this information? That he’d slipped up because he knew that Sun was a safe being to speak freely around?

That this knowledge of meta-data and of it being dangerous weren’t told to him by an outside being because they were built-in, but came and went only when his guard was down? There was no way to call on it like a normal system file.

How would he even begin to ask why Sun didn’t have this information pre-programmed like he did?

“It’s even more reason not to tell her,” Moon finally managed to say after a long silence. “Who knows if she’ll freak out.”

I don’t think she would, Sun said to himself, tilting his head slightly as he took in the worried tension of his brother’s face. Convincing Moon that Jenn might understand would be a losing battle at the moment. “I don’t either,” the diurnal unit agreed, trying to ignore his growing unease.

“There’s something very, very wrong about all of this and I'm afraid of what it might be.”

“That’s why fishing for information might be good for us.” Rays jittering, Sun paused for a rebuttal but found Moon waiting openly for him to explain his thought process. “Jenn knows a lot, like you said. If we’re careful… maybe we can figure out how much we’re allowed to know about ourselves. E’rta might be a one-off, but somewhere else could be more forgiving–-maybe even insistent that we have that knowledge. We barely know how that one city works, let alone the world.” Listening intently, Moon considered the possibility. “I don’t have any of it and got in trouble for trying to learn, but you do have that information but don’t know why. We’re custom made, right?” Moon nodded. “So why would one of us have basic knowledge and the other not if it’s illegal where we were made to operate? That’s a major oversight no matter which way it’s taken. You kept it hidden for so long, as well. Today is the first time I’ve ever heard you talk technician to me, and it wasn’t even on purpose.”

Gaze level, the dark bot wondered, “What’re you getting at?”

“Maybe,” Sun answered carefully, “even if we don’t ask her directly, we should look into getting some details about the world outside E’rta before we walk into it. Because something isn’t right.”

After a moment to fully process everything Sun said, Moon sighed. “I don’t like this.”

Nodding in solemn agreement, Sun nearly jumped out of his shell as a polite cheep sounded off at his back, causing him to shout. Acting quickly, Moon bent his knees and caught the brunt of Sun’s weight as his brother quite literally leapt into his arms, rays spinning and jittering in pure terror as the golden bot clung to his pair desperately. Hovering where he’d been standing was a purple pocket computer wearing a displeased expression, her facial disk slowly blinking with an indicator for an unread message. After realizing there was no threat and sharing a befuddled glance to each other, Sun found his footing and stepped back from his brother who folded his arms with barely contained annoyance, yellow eyes trained on the blur who stared back with keen disinterest.

“You startled me!” Sun mused, sensing the tension beginning to rise again. This stardust was very different from the pink one, he felt. Where Twii was cheerful and full of personality, her twin–Laa, was it?--was… not. It was harder to interact with someone who didn’t indicate one way or another if they cared, managing to disrupt the flow Sun conjured when conversing with most people. It unsettled him, to put it mildly. “Um… did you need something?”

Laa glanced up, irises indicating the blinking node on her face. The message seemed to be for them.

Wondering for a moment if they should play the recording, both brothers tensed as a high pitch whine cut through the kitchen, the sound crescendoing as power built in an engine somewhere on the property. Throwing the door open, the pair tumbled out onto the patio as a blast of air and light flickered over the canopy of the great tree holding the bungalow off the forest floor. A pair of shapes, one gleaming gold and the other stark white, twisted off into the sky with a trail of vapor curling behind them.

Eyes wide with shock, they stared at the space where the figure had taken off from for a long while, disbelieving.

Sun mumbled, “Did…?” 

Only for Moon to shout over him, “ She left us??? ”

“But… why?”

A chirp behind them caught the robots’ attention, Laa sitting politely on the rail while staring at them expectantly. After sharing a look of confirmation, Sun slowly reached out his hand, touching the indicator light with his finger. Laa’s eyes closed, a cone of light appearing that made a waveform as she played back the audio message, Jenn’s voice a faint bit scuffed from what sounded like her fumbling around in a rush.

“Sorry to do this to you boys but I got an emergency call I have to answer. ” A flutter of something like a shirt landing nearby muffled the last word for a moment. “ I can’t stay to explain– ow, ” Jenn hissed as something thumped from being dropped, “ --I’ll explain when I get back. Shouldn’t be more than a week if everything goes well. ” The brothers exchanged concerned glances. “ Remember the rules. Don’t break anything, if you make a mess, clean it up, no going into locked doors. ” Moon scowled slightly. “ I’d appreciate it if someone would feed Rukbat and keep track of the hens for me. Usually he can handle it but the eggs build up pretty quick if they aren’t gathered regularly. Uh… ” More noises of things being moved around, a metallic click, then her voice returned now closer to the recording device. “ That’s about it. Try not to get hurt, back up power should last a few days if there’s an emergency. Hopefully not. The signal blocker only works if the tower is online so as long as you’re in range no one can ping you. Uh… That’s all, I guess. See you both in a week, hopefully. Whenever I get back, we’re gonna have a talk about what to do going forward so… think about it, aight? Bye.”

The audio cut off, the waveform fading, which left Laa glancing at the larger robots for signs of a response. She only received long, befuddled eye contact as they processed what they were told, a flurry of thoughts coming and going between them silently.

Sun’s voice couldn’t raise to a normal level at first, his line of sight shifting to the floor as he fought himself to understand that they were alone. Unsupervised.

Yet given free reign–mostly. Tasks.

Not being restricted to one or two rooms until someone came to get them.

“We’re…” Turned sharply to look at Moon, Sun’s voice lifted with a flicker of hope only to catch itself as he found his brother’s stare burning a metaphorical hole into the patio. “Moon?” Reaching out to touch the darker robot gently on the arm, Sun’s hand wrapped around Moon’s bicep, drawing the darker bot’s attention from the whirlwind sweeping through his processor. Yellow irises snapping up to meet his own, Sun felt a prickle on his neck. “We’ll be alright. It… it’s alright…”

Expression unchanging, Moon quietly corrected, “Actually, it’s perfect .”

~

Chapter Text

Hello and thank you to everyone who has read along thus far! I’m so, so incredibly grateful for every click and kudos, which is also why I’m both sad and delighted to be sharing this little ‘update’ with you! That, and you’re probably wondering where the rest of the story is and want to ask me, “Jenn, where’s the romance?? Isn’t this a thruple/polycule story??? Where’s my smooches and fluff??” among other questions.

Trust me, I want to answer them! And I will! But for that I need a little help, so please hear me out.

When writing this fic, I wasn’t sure at the beginning if a novel was how I wanted to present the full story; I’m rusty and primarily a visual person, so I don’t feel my writing skills are quite where I want them to be to convey what I want to the way I feel it should. I also was still fleshing out the details and other things while writing, using this fic primarily as a sandbox to help organize ideas and build a foundation to work from. The result is quite extensive! I’ve pulled together A LOT of details on the side, but as a result the story itself went through a metamorphosis with certain things changing subtly or even drastically enough that they no longer fit in the framework I’ve established thus far.

But I also didn’t want to leave this hanging open, unfinished and unloved, so I pressed on to what I felt was a passable conclusion. That being said:

THIS FIC IS NOW IN CANON LIMBO.

While a lot of it is going to remain relevant in some way (I won’t say how), please consider that certain details and plot beats were only in beta and may be shuffled and/or cut entirely in the next draft!

Which brings me to the next point: 

“Next draft???”

:)

Yes, my lovely reader(s), the next draft. As I said, this was basically a glorified sandbox to help me organize details with and get a feel for everyone’s personalities and motives, etc. I now have quite a lot of notes and outlines to consolidate but the best part is I want to give this story its due credit and present it as a comic.

Yep! You read that right!

I’ve been debating this for a while but the draft sketches I presented garnered a positive response (I’ll add them below if I can) so I feel comfortable moving forward in that direction, particularly as I pull away from tagging this story as an AU and lean into it being DCA- inspired , as at this point they really don’t fit into the DCA mold very much and I’d like them to be considered their own individual entities. (Sorry if that’s not what you want, but they aren’t gonna change physically save for plot stuff.)

Azil is a big, beautiful, bizarre world that simply doesn’t come across well without the visual medium pulling its weight, so to really get it right I want you all to be able to see what I’m seeing as I write. That and I love/need the subtlety of foreshadowing that visual media allows cuz I’m bad at it in writing.

Play to your strengths, everyone.

So where does that leave us?

Well, lovely reader, while I have the notes and all, I’m still in need of a script to follow so I’ll be switching to just that going forward until I've reached a point where I can draft thumbnails and pages with reckless abandon. I won’t leave you without content though! If you’re interested in what I’m doing and where this wild tale is going, look below because I’m gonna post my socials where I’m more active and still share content! You can find art, rambles, updates and even say hi or buy commissions from me if you feel so inclined! Everything finds its way onto each platform eventually.

• Twitter/X: @jukeboxarts (inactive due to Muskrat)
• Bluesky: jukeboxarts.bsky.social (now my primary social); cosmosabove.bsky.social for art, adopts and Azil-related content
• Tumblr: Jenny_Jukebox (all the art and insane ramblings, also had chapter previews and is more interactive; also smut in the future, hehe)
• Deviantart: Jenny_Jukebox (archive of all art and see my other stuff!)
• IG: Jenny_Jukebox (this one is the lowest activity and way behind the others)
• Patreon: (not active but maybe one day)
• Tiktok: Jenny_Jukebox (best believe I have dumb memes on there, and I’m trying to get to 1k followers so I can stream stuff)
• Youtube: Jenny_Jukebox (crosspost from TT, but also it gets special stuff~)
• Ko-fi: Jenny_Jukebox (because fuck Patreon)

Now let’s talk about goals. If you’ve come this far, you’re probably interested in where this is going, so let me tell you some ideas and plans I have and content in the pipeline to look forward to:

• I want to make a website to host the comic once that becomes viable, with Webtoons/DA/Tumblr being secondary posting sites (I’m not gonna do an Originals contract, don’t worry). Once that’s ready, it’ll go up on all my socials.
• I plan to outline the entire story before scripting, then script all of Arc 1 before thumbnailing, etc, that way I keep all the loose sticky notes organized. There’s a lot of details that Chekov their way through the story now.
• Free Runner is now a 5*(ish)-part story, and will remain a slow burn with lots of extra themes overlaid on the romance bubbling beneath. 2 of those parts are pre-outlined** already.
• I try to make regular art posts and Tiktoks when able, I have a massive content list to work through so there’s no shortage of silly stuff to enjoy. Sadly, I don’t have an upload schedule.
• There’s at least one animatic in the works with a handful of others in the wings. The animatic is being redone from scratch--10/08/2024
• There’s additional story content I’ve plotted out that I plan to keep posting here to AO3, mostly for world building and for funsies. They consist of shorter stories and one-shots that help fill out the world and let me focus on things the main story can’t without being bogged down. Also, more robot fluff. These will be infrequent, but hopefully enjoyable!
  • Tales of the Wastes: Make Due has it's first chapter out!

So what’s the catch?

Well, mostly what I said before: I don't have an upload schedule.

I have a full time job that takes priority, which I’m sure all of you working adults understand. I’d love to throw caution to the wind but for reasons I can’t really share right now, that’s simply not viable. That’s why I put my socials here, so you can know what I’m doing and interact going forward; those little likes and comments are absolutely invaluable to a creative project, and while I’m enjoying just being silly and sharing my boys because I can, I’d love to hear from and see you all as I go.

Beyond that, I also have other projects I’m working on that you might find interesting, but also require some time to focus on here and there:

• My Legacy AU will be revisited in the future, and oh boy that’s gonna be AMAZING.
• I’m the creature designer/artist for the “Magic & Machines” and “Gods of Mal’car” stories written by Aja Silver. One of those is gonna be a comic too, in the future.
• I plan to upload art lessons to Youtube for personal reasons, which will hopefully come soon based on details I can’t share yet.
• I’m working on a horror-comedy story called “The Hedgerow House” intermittently. This one is low priority but still very near to my heart.
• And lastly, I take commissions. They aren’t frequent, but when I get them I try to make them a priority so other things grind to a stop.

Busy busy busy! Ah, the life of a creative adult. AHHHHHHH.

I've gone back and done some fixing up of things, so if you're interested in following along or want behind-the-scenes and all that good stuff please head over to my ko-fi! It helps a lot! WIPs and early access to posts go there!

With all that out of the way, I hope to see you out in the big, wide web and you enjoy whatever comes down the pipeline! Thank you again so so much for reading the story and this update, this group means everything to me and I hope you’ll be around to see why and enjoy the ride! The boys and I look forward to all the shenanigans and silly things coming!

–Jenn

Special thanks:

All my readers, of course! ILY <3

My bestie Lotus and KittyScarred for keeping me on track and assuring me the worries were all brain worms and gave me the encouragement to keep posting. The real MVPs.

Lotus again for making sure I had a safe place during the rough patches <3

Long time followers, KittyScarred, Catspaw and catbatninja for dedicated reposting, support and being around so long I recognize your usernames, y’all give me the hope someone is entertained by my nonsense.

Agileo for help in understanding how to better my understanding of comics, panel/bubble layout and page flow; the pages below will be redone after I get some practice in.

See you on the road ahead!

Old pages:

Newer page with color (plus a character that didn't get introduced yet):