WE COMMUNICATE IN WAVEFORMS JUST LIKE THESE—

[cyberlife]

WHO: connor cyberlife and you.
WHERE: ridin' 'round town in a drop-top benz, hittin' switches in my black '64.
WHEN: august 15th and on.
WHAT: closed prompts for irl december.
NOTES OR WARNINGS: tbd.

Comments

[cyberlife]

(aliens. he mirrors fitz's expression for entirely different reasons.

gods aren't real. connor met his maker — a very smart, very bored man with too much money and not enough time to spend it all, sewing discord to see what spawns from the aftermath. connor's seen what's on the other side, dying only to experience a nothingness that'd frighten upright humans who stand so tall their whole lives expecting a heaven of god's creation to be waiting for them.

there are explanations for everything. a myth created by an ancient civilization that didn't understand scientific phenomena is not one of them.)

The rich still get richer; the poor poorer. It's not the space cruises that appeal to me but the leaps humanity's been making into the future. (that's why he's here speaking to fitz, after all. they made him.) You understand this, being as intelligent as you are. In that sense, I imagine you'd get along with the man who created me. You want to see advances, even if they happen to be dangerous.

Portals to other worlds among them...

(connor trails off, trying to imagine it. it's happened to them, so it should be easy, but his mind's preoccupied with fitz's nonchalance. to go that far for someone you love... when he woke up, realized that the orders he'd been following were wrong, that's one of the first things he aspired to be. a loyal partner, a dedicated friend, a better person.

it makes his chest ache.)

I imagine you didn't think twice about the decision. (connor says with a knowing smile, leaning onto the arm of his seat. he's momentarily forgotten that they're hurtling up into the mesosphere.) That's awfully reckless of you, Fitz. I'd say you two are lucky to have one another, but I don't know if the term applies to the hard work you seem to put into one another.

(he's envious in the best way, another goal blipping into existence on his radar.)

I hope everything went well... it must've been frightening.

[retravel]

[ His gaze is gently watchful, assessing Connor as always, until his friend accidentally (or intentionally?) shoves a hand into his chest, rooting around and grasping at his most thudding insecurities. You want to see advances, even if they happen to be dangerous. Fitz feels his expression begin to shift, willing it to still, to stay neutral, caught somewhere half-twisted instead. Impossible not to consider how his fingerprints are scattered across murder weapons — AIDA, the life model decoys, the Framework, the experimentation on powered individuals that claws at him even in New Amsterdam.

The comparison to the man who made Connor means that he's already been, well, sussed in one respect. Connor is kind to him, but clever, too. Fitz is reminded of their conversation on the network. The lad sees more than Fitz realises, blinded as he is by his fondness.

He's in danger of becoming lost in his head, then, when Connor switches the topic back to Jemma. Ah, another twist inside. He ducks his head, fiddling with the buttons of his shirt, smoothing the wrinkles there again. A slight twitch of his mouth at being called reckless. Very much so. ]

We're star-crossed. [ As simple as his love for her, despite how he suffuses the statement with longing (prove him wrong, cosmos, please). They're lucky to have known one another and been known so completely and honestly in return. Unluckier still to be separated, after experiencing that knowing. ]

I was a little younger then. Maybe it was one of the first times I was properly brave, too, 'cause it was terrifying. [ a little smile, proud of himself and Jemma. ] And scarier for her, all alone, in a strange place — a haunted planet of unending night, but we made it. [ And there are always worse things waiting, he thinks. A look askance, out the window, sky darkening all the while. ] The cosmos is beyond our control, Connor. [ Do they have the power to affect change at the micro-level? Absolutely, he pulled Jemma back through a hole in spacetime, for god's sake. However, that isn't what he means. There are bigger forces at work: Chance, fate, the inevitable progression of time. ] All we can do is seize what's in front of us — for however long it's within reach.

[ Part personal opinion and part advice, metered out so that others don't make the mistake of having someone magnificent beside them the whole damn time and only telling them in the final hour. ]

Thank you again, for the idea to do this — [ tipping his back and to the side into the headrest, a better angle to regard Connor. ] — and for wanting to go with me. Might be our only chance, y'know.

[ in a comparatively quiet month and with the both of them still here. Connor has said and shown his gratefulness to Fitz on more than one occasion; he wants to do the same, albeit in his own bittersweet way, ever two-toned — melancholic, even when happy. ]

[cyberlife]

(fitz is a distracted person, whether by his own design or by the surrounding world's. everything has an explanation, if you think hard about it. an on switch, an off switch. everything has working parts comprising a whole machine. connor understands; he thinks logically but in grand webs that all thread back to him, the spider at the centre.

but there's one thing that separates them completely. that something is life experience.

connor's been through the ringer for only five months and change. fitz has had three decades of struggles, personal conquests that've both succeeded and failed, created and destroyed amazing, amazing things. all the rather naive android can assume is that he has an ally in this brave — or brash — man of one thousand faces. listen to and learn from his stories, analyze the way fitz considers things, and try not to pity him for the obvious tragedies he's survived through.)

Of course, (he begins, blinking his surprise,) we're friends.

(that's what's in front of him right now, drifting out here in the middle of the cosmos. a friend, leo fitz.

connor smiles suddenly, as though coming to some impressive conclusion, and continues.) I think we're more resilient than you're giving us credit for. I make my own chances, such as they are, so if you ever want to go on another excursion in the future — I'd be happy to. I've learned recently that striving doggedly to accomplish a mission can blind you to so many other opportunities. Experiencing more of this new-old world will be useful in the end.

I know it.

(familiarizing themselves with what new amsterdam — and the rest of that water-logged little sphere growing more and more distant as they speak — has to offer will be key. knowing the ins and outs of this life, what people want to add to their already highly advanced world, what they, as experiments, are needed for... it all has to be relevant. connor believes it to be and he'll prove it in time.)

So relax. (flips up the in-flight snack menu, eyebrows quirking.) Get a drink or something.