prompto "nice thighs, dude" argentum (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
mercurio) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
meadowlarklogs2018-11-12 07:42 am
mercurio) wrote in meadowlarklogs2018-11-12 07:42 am
two androids meet a real boy
WHO: prompto, markus, connor
WHERE: the safehouse
WHEN: august 6th
WHAT: an interrogation about dogs nbd
NOTES OR WARNINGS: possible self-harm talk
[it was ridiculously stupid from his behalf to go into the public network and ask to meet with connor and markus soon after learning they were androids. anyone could see the conversation taking place, and even with prompto on anonymous by default, the one person that matters--noctis--would easily be able to tell it was him.]
[still, how else was he to communicate with them? his neural implant capabilities were rather restricted, and the one glimpse he got of the outside after being interned in the safehouse was through the most noctis forum post he had read since his junior year in high school.]
[...and it hurt, in a way. prompto wants nothing but to go back to how things were, before he learnt anything about his origins at all, even if it means staying in this crazy place, but at least he'd still get to be at noctis's side. speaking of, noctis seemed pretty cozy with a lot of the users on the post, and then there was himself--anonymous, no identity, no real distinguishing feature among the sea of comments. like an intruder that doesn't belong.]
Isn't that how it's always been...
[he mutters to himself, sitting on one of the chairs by the communal tables, sighing into the surface, the physical show of his anxiety on how his fingers are linked together and his thumbs graze back and forth in circular motions over his skin. his wrist is bandaged up tightly, from the base of his hand to a little closer to his elbow. his sleep was fitful, nightmarish ghouls of MTs crawling about, his face under the helmets, eyes red, and hands skeletal steel.]
[why does he want to meet with markus and connor, who claim to be androids before coming here? what does he want to ask them? what kind of conversation does he even want to have...? what kind of insight would he get from them? he doesn't really know them, not really (and maybe that's why he wants to meet them--perfectly kind strangers who may have something for him).]
[as usual, he's going to wing this. it's not the same as winging a presentation for lucian history class (it's his godsdamned life), but his feelings of being a fish out of water, of being afraid, and of really hating what he is and where he comes from--are just so raw and burning inside him.]
[part of him thinks markus and connor won't even come, but that's fine. a lot of the kindness here... feels like a lot more than what he deserves.]
[the door shuffles as if opening, and prompto sits up straighter, looking up.]
Well. Here goes nothing.
WHERE: the safehouse
WHEN: august 6th
WHAT: an interrogation about dogs nbd
NOTES OR WARNINGS: possible self-harm talk
[it was ridiculously stupid from his behalf to go into the public network and ask to meet with connor and markus soon after learning they were androids. anyone could see the conversation taking place, and even with prompto on anonymous by default, the one person that matters--noctis--would easily be able to tell it was him.]
[still, how else was he to communicate with them? his neural implant capabilities were rather restricted, and the one glimpse he got of the outside after being interned in the safehouse was through the most noctis forum post he had read since his junior year in high school.]
[...and it hurt, in a way. prompto wants nothing but to go back to how things were, before he learnt anything about his origins at all, even if it means staying in this crazy place, but at least he'd still get to be at noctis's side. speaking of, noctis seemed pretty cozy with a lot of the users on the post, and then there was himself--anonymous, no identity, no real distinguishing feature among the sea of comments. like an intruder that doesn't belong.]
Isn't that how it's always been...
[he mutters to himself, sitting on one of the chairs by the communal tables, sighing into the surface, the physical show of his anxiety on how his fingers are linked together and his thumbs graze back and forth in circular motions over his skin. his wrist is bandaged up tightly, from the base of his hand to a little closer to his elbow. his sleep was fitful, nightmarish ghouls of MTs crawling about, his face under the helmets, eyes red, and hands skeletal steel.]
[why does he want to meet with markus and connor, who claim to be androids before coming here? what does he want to ask them? what kind of conversation does he even want to have...? what kind of insight would he get from them? he doesn't really know them, not really (and maybe that's why he wants to meet them--perfectly kind strangers who may have something for him).]
[as usual, he's going to wing this. it's not the same as winging a presentation for lucian history class (it's his godsdamned life), but his feelings of being a fish out of water, of being afraid, and of really hating what he is and where he comes from--are just so raw and burning inside him.]
[part of him thinks markus and connor won't even come, but that's fine. a lot of the kindness here... feels like a lot more than what he deserves.]
[the door shuffles as if opening, and prompto sits up straighter, looking up.]
Well. Here goes nothing.
no subject
An instinct that’s confirmed as he draws close, catching sight of a seated Prompto who looks all wound up in anxiety.]
Prompto. [A greeting and a faint grin of smile, eyes flicking over his form, as he pulls up a chair to sit.]
Sorry if you’ve been waiting too long. [He’s pretty sure he was punctual, though.]
no subject
[it's markus; the guy who fed him some real food the other day. prompto's expression grows into a smile at the sight of him, leaning back on his chair for an attempt at feigning a relaxed composure and chill attitude about the whole circumstances. little does he know hes already been read to a t.]
[he spreads his arms] Nah! Here all day, I think the actual waiting's been what's kept me from getting bored.
[grinning, he sits back properly again on his seat.]
Besides, we never did agree on a time. It's cool.
[the grin turns into a softer smile.]
...thanks for coming. Despite the cryptic request.
no subject
and that, primarily, is why he's pushing through the throngs of civilians in the safe house to have a discussion with him and markus. as much as he cares about what's happening with prompto, his loyalties lie with noctis. if he can help one with something, it'll mean helping the other; he's always been fond of killing two birds with one well-thrown stone.)
Markus. Prompto. (the greeting comes from behind them, connor's voice distinct among morningstar's quiet murmurs. still in his sling but looking far better than he did, he made great time considering.
he exchanges a knowing look — nothing suspicious, just something friendly (if a bit wry) — with markus before addressing their new teammate:) Are you settling in well? Do you have everything you need?
no subject
[prompto turns on his seat and can't help grinning, raising his hand in a wave. no matter the riverside accident or the banter about their preferred MMO class, both connor and markus have been helpful in their own ways. besides, noctis seems to have a pretty good relationship with them, and whenever noctis implies he can trust someone, it means something.]
Could do with some board games, to be honest. Someone mentioned people come by in groups every other week? We should definitely invest on the entertainment front for the safehouse.
[he turns more comfortably on his seat, leaning forward some (is that comfortable though?) before throwing his arms across the table, like a cat stretching. his arms are bare but for the bandage he refuses to relinquish despite "technically" not needing it. supplies???]
Can't wait to leave more like! I wanna see what it's like outside!
no subject
To Prompto—]
Board games might be a little harder to find in this place. Everything’s gone the way of VR, but I can try to find something more… physical, for those who might have a little more trouble acclimating to the implant.
[Markus, blessedly, had no issue with that. But it doesn’t mean he won’t tend to the problems of others if he can find a way to make the transition easier.
At any rate, Prompto is so enthusiastic, so full of energy. An eagerness to see New Amsterdam that Markus didn’t really share, not when he arrived — he prowled around the city like a cautious animal when he was first permitted to leave, and he wonders if this young man could do with a bit more caution.]
There’s a lot to see in the city. Make sure you don’t get lost in your enthusiasm when you're finally free to explore.
no subject
[markus sounds more like ignis by the second, truth be told. he can remember the cautionary words that ignis threw his way when they first left through the gates of insomnia and into the open world. it's not bad to get reminded to be careful, and he really doesn't do himself any favors in appearing as adult as he is, to be fair.]
[as markus sits and connor makes to join them, prompto picks after himself and sits up straighter, hands on his lap as the anticipation for why he even asked the two of them to meet with him rises.]
It's just gotta be better than this place. Gets to feeling small after a few days.
--not that I'm not grateful for having a place to stay at all! [he just wants to hang out with his bestie and get a feel for the city.] It's not too bad in any case...
[he'll have to put a pin on the board game idea and think it over for later. even if it isn't for the people in the safehouse, a good card game was never beyond anyone.]
So.
You guys... were androids? But you're human, now. Right?
no subject
there's no smile on his face, a bit distracted by the impending seriousness of their conversation, but he does settle in to take a load off of his sling and rest. that itself brings levity into his expression.)
That's a interesting idea, Prompto. I visit often to help out around here, so Markus and I can keep an eye out on our next shopping trip. (board games are being added to the list with clothing and food, important stuff that needs doing — he doesn't mind spending money on things that'll make others more comfortable.) Though I wouldn't mind giving you a tour of the city, if you wanted to choose some yourself.
(he's not the best judge of what's fun. not yet.
another glance to markus, wondering whether this conversation's going to go south fast, before quiet brown eyes settle back on their friend's friend.)
You're right. Our bodies are human, yes. (a pause, head canting an inch to one side as he deliberates his next words.) From your text responses to Noctis, I get the sense that it's a fact that's bothering you. So long as you're respectful — (and he thinks he can speak on markus' behalf as well when he says this.) — we won't have an issue going forward with any questions you might have.
no subject
It ... I don't mean to be disrespectful...
[sometimes, he speaks faster than he ever gives his thoughts a chance to catch up with him. still, his interest comes from a place of honest curiosity, not necessarily a place of wanting to mock or insult or be--gods forbid--dehumanizing. shiva knows it's the very last thing prompto would want.]
[still, he feels somewhat deflated as he wonders whether he's being respectful at all or if he will be from this point onward...]
[fingers latch onto the edge of his chair, eyes on the table, something akin to shame crawling up his chest to his neck to his cheeks.]
I was just... curious. [sudden realization of how dumb that sounds; he fakes a cough.] I guess. It doesn't make a lot of sense, but. [?] ...we don't have androids back home. The closest thing to it -- They're not good, not really. But I don't think they have a mind of their own.
Were you aware? Of what you were?
no subject
Whatever the reason, the truth of it is this: hard to miss Connor’s readiness to delve into a serious conversation, hard to mistake Prompto’s sudden uncertainty as a result. Markus meets them halfway, answering first, unwilling to regard this as an interrogation on either end.]
It’s all right to be curious. Noctis did mention these… ‘MTs’ in passing to me. Those clockwork soldiers.
[A reassurance of gained context, however small. Markus leans in a little further, a show of openness. The question is strange, and telling.]
But yes, androids from our world are often aware of what they are. [Humans won’t let them forget it. The markers on their uniforms, the LED at their temples, the treatment of their kind as thoughtless, disposable machines.] I was under no illusions otherwise; I was built with a purpose made clear to me, and so was Connor.
[But the details regarding that are not pre-offered, not without hearing what the other has to say first.]
no subject
rubbing at a knee, wishing he had something to preoccupy his hands with, connor leans back in his seat.)
It's difficult not to know, in our world. I never doubted it either. (they're constantly reminded. you are an android, you are prohibited. but it never really used to bother him until recently, these things only seen as minor inconveniences that tried to tie his hands in investigations.)
It's alright, Prompto. We have our ideas about why you've asked us here, but we'd rather hear it from you... if you'd still like to discuss it. (connor invites, gesturing to prompto with a tilt of his head — giving him that out is important; they won't force him into anything.) What is your relation to the MTs? Why do you want it kept secret from Noctis?
(he's trying to find his chill.......but is unable to........)
no subject
[androids are aware of what they are. it's difficult not to know. he gets that. for himself, as a kid, it was hard to forget his origins. adopted, brought into a household of adults that looked nothing like himself, sneered at by strangers thinking that they can do something for the war by reminding a sole niff child that he isn't lucian. connor says he never doubted that he was an android, and yet prompto always wanted to doubt it, the discrepancy in his own coloring a fluke of his genetics--that he could erase a place of birth from his skin if he just really wished hard for it, during star showers or whenever he lost a tooth or when a sparrow landed on his windowsill in the mornings.]
[yet the truth remains etched on his skin, solid black ink of stripes and numbers that finally uphold a meaning. a production code. part of a set of a successful experiment of a man so wild in his own insanity that he saw nothing wrong with what he was doing.]
[every time he closes his eyes--the loud bang of his gun ricochets in his ears, verstael besithia's face up close yelling at him, shouting that he surrender. prompto hates that he sees his own face in the scientist's own.]
[connor's question only has him pulling his gaze down onto the table again, hands tightening onto each other below the table--the usual grasp at his wrist, a bad habit he never got to get rid of since he was a kid.]
We always thought MTs were just robots. No mind, no soul, no heart. It's not ... untrue, but.
[he pauses and glances away, towards the corner of the table, trying to parse his thoughts for words.]
...Noct's Lucian, meaning he's from Lucis. They all look it. [dark haired, tan easily.] I'm -- Lucian, but I'm... not really. I learned where I'm from. [a soft laugh, one of those that aren't more than just a breath--his words even more solemn and quiet] Got to see it up close and personal, actually.
[he almost doesn't get it out--but it wants to spill out, yet there's fear blocking him from saying so. just rip it off, like a bandaid, all at once, right?]
...test tubes, like some fucked up nightmare lab that you'd only see in horror video games. Get up close to the glass and get a jump scare, right? Ha ha... [a whittled out sigh] Except it's -- your face. Your body.
[he pulls his hands up from under the table (they feel like lead), and uncovers his right wrist, slowly revealing the burnt skin but the very obvious barcode.]
You put two and two together, right, 'cuz you're at least capable of seeing the obvious.
And-- it's fucking scary.
no subject
A moment passes, in which Markus applies a well-worn habit to this conversation, the quiet application of his usual empathy. He tries to imagine what it must be like, to believe yourself to be one thing, only to find out that you’re something far more frightening. Prompto, now carrying the knowledge of MTs being more than mindless machines — of them being, what? Grown in a lab? Sharing his face? Knowing that he was meant to share that fate, to become mindless, that he wasn’t human?
How utterly terrifying. How many hairline cracks did that create, snaking across Prompto’s sense of self? Looking at the young man now, withdrawn and not meeting either of the androids' eyes, he knows from a single glance that this is a wound made fresh. He’s not been given the benefit of passing time nor thought to let it scab over.]
'No mind, no soul, no heart.'
[A quiet echo of Prompto’s prior words. A high claim, that.]
With this one revelation… are you afraid of losing all of that?
[He doesn’t know him well. Barely knows him at all. But a single interaction reveals more than enough, and Markus is sure that Prompto is in possession of all of these in spades.]
no subject
I'm afraid of losing my friends.
[that's what it is, in the end. he knows there's a difference between who he has grown to be versus what the magitek soldiers are. there's no actual living body underneath the armor; they are but the essence of once-humans--if he is to fully understand what the reports he found scattered about and the voice recordings, if he is to fully understand... his maker.]
[he had envisioned something different for himself, a father and a mother, niffs no doubt, but this completely breaks the surface of every reasonable scenario he had wanted to believe true.]
Noct doesn't know any of this right now, but I'm pretty sure he found out back in our world. [the train--it must have been ardyn, right? somehow that man managed to tell noctis the truth, twist it into something malicious. there's no reason why he wouldn't have lashed out the way he did had it not been for the chancellor's fault.] That's why--
Listen, how do you even feel about... being. I don't know. Mass produced? I just feel sick thinking about it. No offense.
no subject
To my knowledge, the only damaging scenario would be to lie. I've been in one such situation.
(he lied to the androids about who he was, when he was still a machine. snuck in among them, mingled with them, tricked them into believing he was good when SWAT teams were infiltrating jericho — something he, as a hypocrite, hasn't shared with markus.
connor understands that the timing can be important, at the very least.)
Noctis will accept it, of that I have no doubt. He would've addressed Markus and I scornfully, if he thought being artificial was so terrible, instead of giving us such a warm welcome into his life.
(a beat, considering the next question.
it's not worded politely, not even remotely, but the small "no offence" on the tail end gets connor to relax back in his seat. he hasn't talked this over with anyone yet, has he? it's obvious in the stilted way he speaks, the confused jumps from one sentiment to another, his own unwillingness to accept a lot of what he knows to be true. the androids can't blame him for that. identity crises are debilitating.
markus wasn't mass-produced, but it'd feel unfair to answer on his behalf. that's his story to tell. connor, on the other hand, indicates himself. in the event of his death, his uncorrupted memories can be uploaded into the next rk800 prototype, allowing him to carry out his duties in another body. so it can be useful, if the inhumanity of it is overlooked.)
I can't claim to have the same experience as our fellow androids. I've only met one activated RK800 apart from myself and it wasn't sickening, it was frustrating. (but—) Seeing a CyberLife warehouse filled with AP700s was, however, inexplicable. It felt...
(for some reason, his memory of carlos ortiz's android answers for him:)
Unfair...
no subject
[but that's fine. he's not providing nearly enough context.]
Unfair isn't the word I was thinking you'd use.
[is what prompto manages with a bit of a smile. there are words and numbers and names he doesn't think he understands, but he tries to pick up on context clues.]
...I don't know what word you would use.
[he has to admit. he's feeling at a loss. he pushes back, leaning his back against the chair, shoulders slumped, feeling--small. his hands are fists that he hides under the desk again.]
I can't tell him. [he doesn't even know how to arrange his thoughts about the whole ordeal. he's not sure he can accept it, accept himself. he still feels the strong urge to try and remove the brand from his wrist, the only thing keeping him from doing so is the fact that there's no privacy in the safehouse; no real item he can use for the intended purpose.] Not yet.
no subject
I wasn’t mass produced. [He clarifies, already have deigned to not treat any of Prompto’s anxious, stumbling words as offensive. Markus’ tone barely changes.] But even if I was, it wouldn’t matter. Each android is their own individual, with the potential to be defined by different experiences, different associations.
[Androids, lined up in a warehouse awaiting shipment, though. Unfair. He inherently understands Connor’s word choice.] What’s unfair is when these same androids are created with the expectation that they have no agency over their own lives, or their own choices.
[Markus allows himself an exhale, the transitioning subject clear.]
And when do you feel like you’d be ready to? [The implication, without so many words, is clear when Markus asks this — what stars might align, Prompto, in which this subject will be less difficult than it is now?] There’s something to be said for timing. And then there’s letting something fester for too long, to the point where you’re only doing yourself an unkindness.
no subject
[prompto felt nothing for the bodies within the test tubes, allowing instead for the panic and inner turmoil to overwhelm him. everything happened so fast anyway, the scavenger-like information in the notes to traipsing through the lab (wanting to leave it quickly), to besithia and ardyn's accusations and revelations, and a shot too close that brought both deafening silence and the rumbling of crashing waves at the same time.]
[is he thinking solely selfishly?]
[he swallows thickly at the question.]
[to say i don't know will definitely be a stupid response. anything he wishes to say feels like a stupid response--how noctis isn't afraid or angry at the androids because they're not the enemies he's been fighting against, how noctis doesn't hate him now and how paramount that is--how it feels like he's got a shot at living again.]
[he decides to ignore the question.]
You said each android is their own individual. I should focus on that, then. It's not quite the same but -- if I just keep on being my own self, it. It should. Be okay.
[clearly, he's trying to grasp onto anything to keep afloat in his self-deprecating thoughts.]
no subject
they don't have to suffer. markus' hand helped him and so did hank's. noctis' hand will help prompto, not theirs.
markus is right, they're independent and autonomous now, but—) We don't have to deal with these difficult subjects alone.
What helped me with my own individuality were the people I chose to align myself with. ("it should be okay," it should be and will if he chooses to trust in the ones closest to him.) Prompto. Listen to your friends, if you can't stomach listening to yourself. Your loyalty will mean far more to them than what you are or where you came from.
(connor links his fingers together and squeezes, thumbs pressing against his knuckles, restless.)
Everything else will eventually fall into place. It's not like it's... immediate. I imagine you'll struggle for some time, but you won't have to deal with it alone. That's better. At least I think so.
no subject
[prompto's grown, emotionally, in a way that noctis hasn't yet.]
[it's very hard to connect anymore. that also bothers him. he knows he's hiding something from noctis, but the magnitude of it all... he couldn't possibly make him go through that. that's loyalty, right? that's him being loyal to his best friend. protecting him from otherwise chaotic memories that have never happened.]
[leaning forward a bit, he's slumping with his hands still under the table]
Would it be okay... to take my time? Part of me wants to tell him right now, but the other -- just absolutely hates thinking about it. I don't want him looking at me and knowing that he knows, 'cuz I'll see it in his eyes, I think...
no subject
There’s a point where someone has nearly crossed a threshold, ready to make a decision, to detach themselves from the fear that had weighed them down in the past. When the application of the right kind of encouragement, solidifying a truth they already know, might cause them to step over that line. To commit, to choose.
Prompto isn’t quite there yet. Their words cause him to shrink into himself, dredging up more uncertainty instead of real consideration. He still needs time; he still needs others to be patient with him.
And so Markus only nods.]
Of course it’s okay. In the end, it’s your decision to make.
[However.]
Just promise to give what we’ve told you some thought.
no subject
[he scratches at the edge of the chair with his nails]
I have to. There's no going around it. It's all I can think about right now anyway.
[remaining quiet after he's said that, prompto mulls over his thoughts, like he wants to say something more. but in the end, markus agrees with taking some time to prepare himself to say anything, whereas connor insists it's best to just say it. he'll definitely be giving it some thought.]
[...he just has to work up the courage to voice it and come to terms with what he knows.]
Thanks. The both of you.
[finally, he lifts his gaze.]
For coming to talk to me.