thegatesofinfinitespace

[thegatesofinfinitespace]

XZeroWeek: Day 7

[thegatesofinfinitespace]

As his boyfriend gets comfortable, as comfortable as someone like Verse could, X returns his attention to the scattered pieces before him. Almost there, just a few more adjustments before he can don the weapons proper, and then his auto-repair would handle the finishing touches.

There's nothing he can say in response to Verse's quip, so he doesn't.

Hand raising to slide the goggles back down over his eyes, Psi twirls the soldering iron like a pen, leaning back over the cuirass. Little sparks fly as he sears parts together, testing the circuitry as he goes. The color that manifests as they reconnect shifts to a navy, same as the original armor he'd been hardwiring to his own. Fitting.

The brunet raises the completed piece in hand, scanning over its surface for any faults in durability. "You're busy, and I'm just one person." Seemingly satisfied, he sets it down, reaching for the back-plate to repeat the process. "It would be irresponsible to ask you to shift your attention to this." A million other worlds, a million other timelines.

This one hardly meant anything in the grand scheme of things.

...But all that is, is an excuse.

X doesn't look up again, reaching for a pauldron. "I decided to integrate your armor into the structure." Though Verse could probably tell simply by observing. "If I get hit hard enough for it to be threatening, you'll know." Onto the other pauldron. "I don't plan on risking my life though. This is all just precaution."

"...and you never have projects," is replied in kind. Psi's observation is an anticipated one as he enters. The X established already that the two of them have a routine whether the OVER-unit realized it or not. Even so, nothing about this scene is standard. Those parts are... teal optics scan across the various components, taking them in. They are mismatched pieces, being forged anew.

An armor.

There are so many questions he could ask, but most would be pointless between them. Only serving the formalities of normal conversation. The X needed no such restraint on his part, keenly aware of Verse's mechanics by now. There is nothing that happens here without my knowledge.

Except for one thing... Verse settles beside the other machine, fixated on his companion

"...why haven't you asked me to intervene?" To the point, although the words cannot carry much weight under the monotony of the reploid's voice. "I do not understand your thought process."

Then again, his partner never asked for anything else to be fixed either.

[thegatesofinfinitespace]

It's he!! The pretty boy himself!!!

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Silence stretches between them, no call of wildlife to fill the space, only the whisper of wind buffetting the Tower walls.

Though no combat would result of their paths crossing, tension coats every movement. The GodHunter's glare is scathing, and it did nothing to alter the situation. Kane's posture didn't shift either, no intention of allowing--

Interrupting their staring match is the loud crash of the door bashing against obsidian walls, its slam echoing down the halls, no furniture to mitigate the sound. While his newest guest's gaze may have snapped towards the only other human in Province, the Wasteland God's posture hardly changes.

It is a pregnant silence that once more hits the hallway, and slowly the Immortal tilts his head towards the blacksmith. His tone is flat, almost disappointed. Only one word-- a name-- is said.

"Tali-mae."

In truth, they could have stood here staring each other down indefinitely. Why the god even cared where he went is its own annoying enigma. In a place wholly unoccupied by anyone but the two of them, what difference could it possibly make?

Especially while the hunter was still licking his wounds.

Still, he can't help getting the impression that the immortal is safeguarding something in the quiet tension.

What are you hiding?

The silence grows stagnant as the minutes pass by, with nothing to show for it but mutual stubbornness.

What causes the Godhunter's gaze to break is the unexpected sound of the heavy door slamming open. "I CAN'T TAKE IT ANYMORE, THE CURIOSITY IS KILLING ME!" Tali cries, parading out into the hallway.

"The least you two could do is having an interesting conversation, but NO. You bring someone home and he's just as anti-social as you Kane. Ugh!" She's all but pouting at the both of them, arms crossed. "Here I thought something interesting was finally going to happen around here."

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Tales of the Maverick Hunter went far past his own timeline, a Legend in his own right while being distinctly different than the tales of Megaman X. While anyone else would have done it for the sake of being star-struck, the Copy had a different motive in mind.

(Zero will be here soon, thank goodness for Zero. Zero. Zero. Zero.)

It was the same one that had stirred him into helping Vile-- though he had later gained a friend out of that Hunter as well. And that exact same motive made him stick around, because if he did... Then there would be a chance to meet said motive himself.

Zero, yeah, because that's what all the whispers were about. Zero, because there was a chance at helping the reploid back home in crimson armor. Except. Except, "You don't look like..." No moonlight-silver hair. Detached disposition, maybe, but not the same kind of despondence he was used to. Not the same kind of aura that made him seem like he was from an era long gone, out of place in the world. Not... his Zero.

Seraph hesitates, attention drawn once more to the eyes on him that he'd been attempting to ignore. He can't help his disappointment, having once been opportunistic at the idea he could maybe gain knowledge for... To stop... Ah. Those were his own problems.

"Yeah, I'm... new." Not a lie. "Not much I can do to make them feel more comfortable around me." Even if he wanted to. Feels like I'm in Neo Arcadia. "What's their deal anyways?" Was it really his optic color? Wasn't like he was hurting anyone.

@thegatesofinfinitespace asked:

"You're telling me, you're Zero?" There's clear disbelief in those words, irritation at being inconvenienced. For what little excitement Seraph had once had at the realization he was a long way from home, it faded quickly. Vile had mentioned something about his red eyes, the color significant for the era of 21XX, but its meaning had become long lost by the time the Copy had come to exist. There had to be some merit to that, for regardless of the fact he'd chosen to walk in civvies, there were glances and whispers in his direction. It was more than enough to set him on edge, and here he was now with company. "You must be joking." Zero didn't look like that.

First Vile, now this.

If Zero thought that Axl was capable of pulling a prank without telling him then all bets would have been on that. As it was, the red-haired reploid wouldn't last more than five seconds without exploding from keeping the secret. It definitely wasn't him.

"Am I?" He hadn't even introduced himself. He hadn't planned to, actually; any citizens of Abel City recognized him, in or out of armor, and what Maverick didn't know about the 'Crimson Devil' or 'Blond Menace' or... he could have sword he heard 'Red Scare' come up once. Zero found himself often regretting not being able to keep that maverick alive for questioning. It still haunted him that he didn't get to know just what exactly they thought that meant.

Red eyes didn't always mean maverick, but it was a common-enough 'symptom' of one of the viruses that no new reploids were being built any more with red eyes. Zero always thought that was pointless, and was just leaning into the atmosphere of unease and terror, but he had given up trying to understand the changes and shifts in human politics. It always felt rooted in fear, not in actually making things better-- and all of that was beside the point.

"Care to let me in on the joke? I'm sure it's hilarious." And a smile, one that didn't quite reach his eyes. "In the meantime though, are you... new around here? Cause you're certainly makin' all the locals real uncomfy."

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[[Heads up! @thegatesofinfinitespace and I are selling at a convention this weekend and we probably won't be around much until late Sunday. If things are slow and chill you might maybe get some mobile posts, but otherwise you'll be seeing my queue this weekend!]]

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Unfortunately for Vi, it was only a joke for one of the parties here-- the same guy who had no idea that it was really the name of the alternates he was nothing like.

Zain twists the straw of his drink idly. //Like I said, he's from a timeline where he's one of three independent androids.// The rest were rudimentary A.I. at best, exactly the same as the Robot Masters of old, and hardly carried thoughts and opinions of their own. A half smile is afforded to the companion on his left. //Deal.//

Of course Rock's own mood dims considerably at the implication of his twin; an open wound that wouldn't heal properly. If it could heal at all. The Commander, of course, wants to change the subject, but there is a slow realization that the task wouldn't be easy when the Light-bot's living siblings are brought up-- his boyfriend included in that sentiment.

"Psi brushed you off?" Out of the ordinary for a guy who, despite constantly complaining about being inconvenienced, usually went out of his way to brighten the room when he could. It would have been expected of Rock, but not of the elder of the two X's in their hodgepodge family.

At first, Zain doesn't know what to say. They got into an argument? It seemed so... unusual. No surprise the eldest of the Light's had come to vent-- and dig for answers. "I... honestly haven't seen Xanti lately. He told me he had to leave for a GDC assignment for a few days." It's a dissatisfying answer. "He's supposed to come home in a day or so, but..."

There's a ping, adding their third companion into a new private chat, continuing the conversation in silence. //I think I know what they were talking about.//

Probably be called... //you're kidding me.// Sure, he'd suspected it based on the name 'Rock Light', but it feels surreal to get actual confirmation. //This guy looks nothing like the history books,// a baffled ping. //I knew things could get different in other worlds but...// this is on another level entirely. Still, Vile finds himself laughing all the same.

"It definitely wouldn't have suited you." Vi's attention turns back to Rockwell, and he can't help but tilt his head at the Light-bot's taste as it's delivered to the table. For someone who dresses like trouble, he sure seems to like the fruity drinks. //Promise I won't say a thing boss, as long as you don't tell him I called him cute.//

"Don't fuckin' go there." A low blow, but this one seems to roll tiredly off the former general's shoulders more than agitate him. "I get it I get it, I'll be more grateful or whatever. Still I think of the two of us, I really got the short end of the stick compared t' the good twin." Not... that Cale was around to gloat about it now.

Shitty how a moment of joking tangles so easily into grief. Even the better reminders are still just that, reminders.

Rock picks up his cocktail, giving it a long sip as if needs the extra buffer. A sigh, as the ice in his glass idly clacks around. "Look, Zain, call me paranoid, but I get the sense somethin' is up with my stupid idiot brothers. The kind of thing neither of 'em will tell me." But you'd never lie to me, right?

"Had plans with Psi, but he brushed me off the moment I mentioned Xanti..." he trails, observing the neon green reflection of his own optics off the side of his drink. "...never known those two t' have issues, so I gathered there must be somethin' serious happenin' over here." You understand what he's getting at? //Knowin' your line of work, it's nothin' we can talk about here.//

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XZeroWeek: Day 2!!!

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I don't know. So very like his star, to have been stripped to a point where there is only the burning Light that made up his fury. Tragically forced to be raised by the World, trained in entropy to be its ruin and its salvation. You can never live for yourself even when you want to.

What an honor. What a tragedy.

The accusation of abandonment. "If it is any consolation, we did not." I would never.

That place without Gods. "You... always said you never really needed us to begin with." Not Rho necessarily, but the one whom he was derived from. Irony at its finest. "It will not heal any wounds to hear that we had no choice in staying, but you are standing before me because we couldn't bear to let your world die."

It still functioned only because of a whim, of sentimentality on his and his partner's doing. Gears left in place, for a just in case. It seemed that Dirge's intuition was ever fruitful, but so very tragic that they would never be whole.

There is a desire to reach out, to reclaim... The motion is never made, stillness kept to prevent taking something that was no longer meant to belong to him. Should, but that piece was cut away so long ago it could never be retrieved.

Some curse long laid, by whom he couldn't say. Am I never meant to have you? But of course, Death could never keep the living.

That isn't a real answer, and yet there is truth in its simplicity. Rho has never met this stranger, never been in the presence of a creature of such magnitude. Even still, a hazy familiarity to the figure is present. The shape of someone seen once in a half remembered dream.

...this... is an old god.

Realization is slow, weighty. What does it mean, to stand before such an entity? Something that could see beyond the boundaries of the living. The edges of reality stretch thin, the veil between mortality and the unknown.

"...I... do not know." Too long, suffocating under the weight of rage and tragedy. Shedding all but what is necessary. A mission. A death wish. Without which, little more remains. A reflection of the world that birthed him, a godless realm. An unknowing kinship to countless other lives of his own.

There is pause, before the human finds his voice again. Seems to recall some of the inner strength that had initially burned away in the deity's aura.

"...why..." a mix of pleading, of accusation in his tone. "...why did you abandon us?"

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Things have been... off, since the latest incident. Although Verse had thought it mostly solved during, it has become quite clear that things are not "back to normal" between himself and Psi. Emotions, and the lack thereof... making what was once simple, now difficult to navigate. Dropping in unexpectedly? Taking initiative, more accurately. The OVER-unit appears with less fanfare than his contemporaries, no beam of light, no sound of arrival. His only courtesy being that he's outside Psi's door, willing to knock.

[ @overx ]

Rapping on the door.

There's nothing else to do other than say, "Come in," to his visitor, though there's equally little fanfare outside of a backwards glance to the OVER-unit. X is bent over a worktable, its recent acquisition likely already been taken into account by his boyfriend.

"You never knock," an eyebrow raised, but the attempt at banter equally comes as unsurprised. Before him are parts strewn across the wood surface, but it's obvious it's not a model-kit project.

He doesn't need to explain himself. Verse knows him well enough, and even then was more than aware of his future, the choices he'd make. The brunet finds it almost irritating how predictable he could be.

Things may have not been back to normal between the two of them, but it's the furthest thing on his mind. I'm not so petty. "Did you want to hang out while I work on this?"

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[thegatesofinfinitespace]

Last minute submission for @xzeroweek !!!

•❄️•❄️•❄️•

Zero didn't particularly like the holidays.

Grating music, obnoxious decorations, cheer that felt unwarranted in a warzone. Mavericks never cared about winter vacations, or human events; it was a better time than any to stage an attack. One had to be on guard, never sure when the next raid-- and when he would be called into battle-- would be. Always a disaster waiting to happen.

...But X was different. Watching the snow fall made his eyes sparkle, catching the shine of little multicolored lights that only seemed to intensify under the cloudy sky. He enjoyed the little kitschy wreaths and bows and dolls, the yuletide spirit. And he enjoyed the tradition of gift giving.

The blond huffed to himself, puffs of air solidifying in the cold but doing little to stop the fall of snowflakes catching in his hair. Another glance was spared to his partner, and the mysterious present he clutched excitedly. Zero frowned again, feeling the crinkle of wrapping paper against his hand, the little box that was stuffed haphazardly into his left pocket.

...Well. He didn't have to like the holidays to want to give someone a gift, now did he?

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The sharp ring of whetstone against steel. The act of meditation without truly sitting still-- the closest that the Knight could get to displaying any sort of calm. What tranquility there was in refining a pointed blade was lost the moment Ghirahim spoke.

No point in speaking to someone who was clearly blind, except... Ugh. The Sorceress demanded some form of cooperation in her troops. It is with a strained irritation that Volga speaks.

"What... does it look like I'm doing?" And here he thought Cia would have picked smarter commanders for her army.

@thegatesofinfinitespace liked the starter call and received Ghirahim!

"You know, standing around being useless is hardly fitting for a soldier of this army. Perhaps you would like to explain what you're doing?"

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Okay but what about a squid or octopus person- Shiver I'm talking about Shiver-

"Tragically, I'm into big buff inhuman monsters that could crush me under their heels! This octopus-squid person, while having awesome fashion taste, does not fit the criteria! I'll have to give them a three, sorry!"

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XZero Week 2024 - Together

Collaboration between me and @rockwell-light for the 8th day! She drew X and I drew Z~ ❤️

We thought it'd be fun to collab on the final day, a double meaning for "Together" as a theme. ^v^

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we all know you're a demon fucker Vesper-- but what about angels?

"So... the real thing isn't really possible, last I checked. They don't have any personality to them, so it would be a seven for appearances, but... well nothing would happen so it's a two."

"And if it's just a guy with wings, that's utterly boring, so a zero."

"But if it's those ones from those old mythical fantasy textbooks that aren't real, you know, the ones with an infinite number of eyes and hands and wings and halos of fire... that's a pretty solid nine to me!"

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a werewolf

"Werewolf form, or just... as a slightly stronger than average human?" Oh, well. "If it's the werewolf, and they're descended from a direwolf, then maybe an 8....?"