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jenn-the-butterfly · 4 months ago

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Ch 11: ... Back (long chapter)

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?

#azil #free runner au #fanfic #jenn squad #azil moon #jenn butterfly #robots #world building #azil sun #robot x human #creative writing #first draft #no beta #ao3

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