OPEN |

[aurable]

CHARACTERS: Drift and YOU
LOCATION: Simulation Room + Closed Starters
DATE: Mid-Late September, Post Wish Full
CONTENT: Drift finds a familiar simulation program
WARNINGS: possible discussions of terminal illness and substance abuse TBD MA! the robots are fucking again!

A FRIENDLY REMINDER

[ Drift had not stuck around for what passed for a debriefing, leaving before Dengar had even gotten a word in edgewise. The situation was Yzak had been an unfortunate advantage to slipping under the radar. For two days, it was decidedly easy for someone nine feet tall and made of metal to fade into the background. Then, he started popping up in sudden bursts. Once or twice, at some odd hour, he would poke his head into the infirmary or go knocking on a seemingly random door only to say nothing and walk away without saying much — a melancholic jumpscare, where instead of "boo" the monster merely shakes his head and leaves.

Later into his self-imposed and unexplained isolation, things had taken a turn almost into normalcy when a group text went out:

Driving lessons at 0900 in the Sim Room
Sword and closed-quarters practice at 1300 in the Training Room
By appointment with thirty minutes advance notice at the latest

Absolutely nothing. Drift had reconnected with the rest of the crew in so many words and with as much affection as a timed reminder for a phone app. At the very least, notifications and replies look as though they're being read now. ]

A CITY WITH NO PEOPLE

[ The doors of the simulation room open with a whisper of hydraulics sliding open like a soft, unintrusive announcement. Bursting into view with quiet brilliance is an endless horizon with a view from the peaks of an alien world. You enter onto the balcony of a polished white steel building with a view falling down into the perfectly recreated, dizzying heights of a sprawling city. Above is a night sky streaked with a nebula's pale, milky spill and thousands of stars painted around and through its cascade. Flicking lights shine like fireflies on the roads coiling up and around the buildings that grow ever higher towards a massive focal point — a spire that, even at night, illuminates everything surrounding it. All of it was a facade of life, the illusion only broken up by the vacuous silence where the sounds of the rush of traffic or even the stray snatch of conversation or laughter carried up by the wind should have been.

Drift stands at the edge as an almost unobtrusive silhouette against the skyline. He could have easily been mistaken for a statue if one of his finials hadn't slightly flicked in the direction where he heard someone sidle up beside him. Eyes that glowed a cold and pale blue against the dark color of his face stared out over the balcony. Even without pupils, it was clear he hadn't offered so much as a glance in the direction of whoever decided to join him. ]

It's something else, isn't it? [ A neutral response to an otherwise incredible view. Drift hadn't moved an inch, and his tone of voice was quiet, almost like someone who had just woken up from a very long nap and was only speaking on reflex. ] This simulation was made by...[ Imperceptible movement — a slight bow of his head. ] by someone else. The capital city wouldn't have been my first choice, and it's not how I remember it.

See that? [ Drift pointed to the tower, voice perking up slightly but still holding the stupor of a lecturer who had repeated himself once too often to care. ] The Primal Basilica, or at least I think it is. Xrisora reminded me a little of this place, thought I'd see how deep the mirage went. [ Drift nodded as if confirming something to himself ] They did a pretty thorough job.

Quiet, though. [ Finally, he turns his head two degrees to catch you in his peripheral. ] I can leave if you need the room.

Comments

[choicely]

Don't be ridiculous. He was a nightmare to live with.

[ The quickness with which she asserts that opinion, though, might belie her true feeling somewhat — and perhaps she had come around to actually finding Billy less than unbearable and something more like tolerable, once she'd learned more of his intricacies. It was true that a lot of the brusqueness, the crudeness, had been more of an outer facade, something affected to keep others at a distance, and she knew a thing or two about maintaining the right barriers for that purpose.

But she relents, somewhat, in the sigh that leaves her as she shifts to mimic his initial position, adjusting her skirts so that her legs dangle off the side of the roof. Even though she knows that realistically, they're not this high up, there's always a beat of internal vertigo that accompanies something like this in the simulation room, the moment where the body and mind war with one another over perception.

The divulging of Leonard's illness is clear news to her, though, judging by the minute shift in her expression, the tic in her jaw that ultimately settles as she wills herself to release the tension that accompanies that revelation. ]

Then you were one of few to know it. [ She reaches up to brush back a few strands of hair from her face, ones that have inexplicably escaped her braid, and uses the movement of that hand to allow her thoughts to reorder themselves. ] Perhaps there were means in his world through which he could be cured. Ones that would not have been possible here.

[aurable]

Yes, people who only care for others don't often share their troubles. "Physician, heal thyself."

[ The rustling of her skirts and the way the air rose from the ledge gusted with a familiar scent in the breeze stirred Drift to look somewhat more animated. Insomuch that when Yennefer sat down beside him, a massive hand hovered at her back. Ready to catch her or be something to fall back on if the artificial fall disoriented her enough. ]

Pretty sure Billy had a toy version of one of my friends when he was a child — that just made me overlook some of his shortcomings. [ He turned to her then, offering a sideways smile as if they were suddenly co-conspirators in a salacious rumor. Maybe even a wink, but it was difficult to tell in the low gloam of a city night against the thousand other flickering neon lights below them.

Drift's hand at Yennefer's back then fell to his side, joining the other gripping the ledge. Adjusting his weight, Drift leveraged himself —

— before pushing off and sliding into the darkness with the ease of a swimmer plunging into the depths below. A shock of white from his frame slashed across the darkened city streets before being swallowed up in the span of a heartbeat. Only the constant hum of invisible traffic and the howl of the wind from this 'height' echoed back up.

In a quick but not too hurried gait, footfalls on the rooftops followed. 'Drift,' looking more haggard than his usual fashionably disheveled self, sat beside Yennefer. Drift's face pulled into an amused expression, somewhat dulled by his drawn features, as he glanced down then back at Yennefer.]

I figured I should find decent parking now.

[choicely]

There were toys made of your kind? [ That's not an entirely foreign concept, considering the celebrity or notoriety that follows certain figures on the Continent — many of them thanks to Jaskier's prolific songwriting. Even Yennefer herself has seen some of her traits immortalized through lyrics, so the notion that there might be toy miniatures out in the world of a white-haired witcher or a violet-eyed sorceress does strike her as somewhat strange, but not to the extent that she'd be surprised to discover their existence.

It proves no less disconcerting when Drift proceeds to launch himself over the edge of the roof and into the dark streets below them, a move that elicits a brief quickening of her pulse before logic sets in and directs it to level out.

That absence becomes less distinct when his holoform quickly appears as a replacement, and there is only a slight pause that results from her once he sits beside her before she tilts herself in against him, leaning so that her head lightly docks against his shoulder. ]

Are you intending to drive us somewhere else? [ The tone in her voice might provide enough indication that she's otherwise content to linger here, but if his aim is to offer her more of a guided tour of their surroundings he won't be met with significant protest. On the other hand, she's wordlessly reluctant to withdraw, even if she's seeking nothing else in the moment itself save the luxury of being closer to him. ]

[aurable]

Mmm-hmm, it's a little embarrassing, but if you ask Eleven, she'll give you an earful about which ones her friends have back home. Not me, though. I'm just not that popular, I suppose. [ It could have been the traffic lights below them, but the tips of Drift's ears and the ridge of his cheekbones took on a noticeably darker hue. Sometimes he cursed the unbridled curiosity and recklessness of the R&D division back home for making these human guises almost tooperfect.

— Only still short of the mark that Drift couldn't replicate body heat. Ordinarily, this wasn't an issue, but sitting on a rooftop at night made for poor protection against the wind, simulated or not. He slides his hand on the ground behind Yennefer, leaning back enough to allow her head to fall against his shoulder without being too exposed. The crown of her head tickled his chin as her warmth seeped into him as they found a comfortable position. ]

No, I can stretch my legs and stay here. Why ruin the view? [ One of the many benefits of being able to be in two places at one. He pointed to the tower with his free hand and idly traced the horizon, ]

There's the Primal Basilica — I've never been, partially because I was hardly religious when it was still standing, but like any grand cathedral, they didn't like the dregs of society getting mud on the marble. I think the council chambers for the senators should be nearby and... [ Drift ran his finger over the distant outline of spires and other large structures until he paused near the darkened border of the city's edge. ] I was born somewhere around there, I think. From what I remember, it used to be decent.

[ He dropped his hand and said nothing for a time before saying, ] Have you ever thought about it? Recreating places from your world here, I mean.

[choicely]

Eleven. The same girl who contacted me specifically to ask if I was a princess. [ With her gaze directed outward as it is, there's no indication that she notices anything about his shift in complexion, or the signals that her increased proximity to him has any obvious outward effect. She only knows what she wants, and where she presently wants to be now that she's successfully confirmed he isn't among the cluster of recent disappearances.

Whether there's a distinct lack of body heat or not matters little — the dress and jacket she'd clad in do enough to keep her protected from the occasional colder breeze, although if she does become too chilled to endure another moment up here the idle thought occurs that she could always prompt him to call his other form back so she can take advantage of the heat that can be conjured within his interior. ]

It is a view at that. [ She knows his weight can bear her, has few qualms about settling herself against the slope of his shoulder, turning so that her forehead nudges closer to his jaw even while she refuses to surrender their surroundings in her sight altogether. And while she lets his explanation of various landmarks go uninterrupted, the question he then poses to her directly is one that gives her a longer pause. ]

There aren't many places worth recreating. [ Not from her past, and she wouldn't be willing to subject anyone to Aretuza, but perhaps her brief time spent in Rinde and the mayor's home — that had been one of her more enjoyable lodgings. ] Maybe something closer to an approximation rather than the genuine article.

[aurable]

[ After hearing that little anecdote, Drift valiantly bit his tongue long enough to temper his barking laugh to a more muted chuckle. ] Please tell me you didn't immediately correct her. How did that conversation even go?

[ This was exactly why he was glad that Yennefer had found him. Neither of them demanded much of the other. Content to let things play out whenever they happened to cross paths. Their friendship was a comfortable balance of familiarity without pressure to share much about themselves. Enough that he almost fears he overstepped with that question until he notices Yennefer hadn't gone tense against him. ]

Nowhere? [ He wanted to say that was hard to believe, but he didn't know much about the Continent and had never pried. ] Well, the seat of the corrupt government I had a hand in destroying isn't my first choice for a trip down memory lane. So, I understand.

[choicely]

I think I may have disappointed her somewhat. At least in terms of shattering her preconceived notions.

[ Her resulting smile turns more reflective, however, as she glances out to their view again, though she does it without surrendering her place against him, counting on him to bear her weight in leaning idly. ]

Not all of us have places attached to fond memories. [ Which isn't a dig at his decision to sit here, immersed in some part of his world, but more of a confession having to do with her past. ] Does that mean this doesn't actually exist anymore?

[aurable]

Try not to take it personally; she's a difficult kid to impress. [ Which Drift doubted she had to the extent that would have genuinely left her demoralized, but Eleven could hit where it hurt without the extra barb of intent. It was incredible what a lack of a brain-to-mouth filter did to everyone else's ego.

They pass a few quiet moments as Drift rolls one shoulder to allow her more room. Sliding, the hand propped behind her up the length of her back, knuckles brushing the column of her spine before resting on the dip of her shoulder. Really for no other reason than proximity and his distant fascination with subtle reminders of humanity, residual heat, and the subtle pulses of life crackling beneath the skin. ]

No, [ Drift confessed with a detachment to being several thousand years removed from these memories. ] It's all dust and ash now - the planet as well.

[choicely]

She reminds me of someone. [ That same, similar age beyond her years that exists in Ciri, the fearless approach that comes from being in possession of real power and knowing her capabilities. She'd only had the briefest conversation with Eleven and she could see that, in addition to a level of bluntness that Yennefer herself could only ever possess respect for.

She doesn't flinch when his hand slides over her; what proves more telling is how her spine curves into the contact, a brief run of tension that soothes out, and her head resettles against his shoulder, the crown of her hair nudged to the angle of his jaw as she remains looking outward upon a world that exists unknowing of its ultimate fate. ]

So why revisit it now?

[aurable]

Who? [ Drift asked without thinking of it, seeing her eyes briefly wander towards some middle distance. As though the topic stirred up a memory. The simple question seemed harmless despite Yennefer offering little about herself that hadn't been inadvertent slips between the sheets at off hours.

They settle against each other once more until her body heat seeps into his ambient state. Drift didn't register the cold from the steady breeze as much as he did the stolen warmth bleeding into him. It was...comfortable to register something solid from her weight to the slight tickle of her hair against his face. ]

Ratchet created the simulation. [ Drift confessed, wistful. ] I wanted to — [ He looked back at the horizon, winking without millions of lights from fabricated windows like little ghosts ] understand, I suppose. Why someone might mourn this place in a way I couldn't.

[choicely]

A girl. A powerful one. I'd been preparing to train her myself just before coming here. [ It's easy to think of Ciri, in spite of the complications surrounding her origins and everything that had come afterward; it's surprisingly simple to dwell on her now considering that she's tied to Yennefer's greatest regret, given that the girl had been quicker to forgive her than even Geralt had.

She's making no effort to move or even so much as shift carefully once she's established a comfortable position leaned against him, but when he speaks her head tips back along his shoulder so she can observe him in profile, study him as he glances out over the view before them both. ]

Does it make you feel closer to him even now that he's gone?

[aurable]

[ The arm around her shoulder squeezed at an infinitesimal degree before he let go. ] You've probably come a long way to do that.

[ Projecting? Maybe, but he knew the pattern, not the circumstance: You're told you're brilliant while stuck in the mud all your life, and you have a basic framework for overcoming that. Even if it means shaking hands with the devil.

Drift looks out onto the old Cybertron horizon and how it glistens, ]

No, [ He answers honestly, ] I was one of the ones who burned this city to the ground and — [ Drift looks out, the darks of his catching the reflection of destruction long behind them in the way his pupils dilated, ] and sometimes I miss knowing I helped start the flames.

[choicely]

It's not really anything I ever pictured myself doing, no.

[ Beyond the fact that she'd never considered herself well-suited for tutelage, for guiding someone else — whether because she felt lacking in patience or some other quality that Tissaia always seemed to be in infinite possession of — there was the notion that such things never appeared meant for her to get to have.

Only now, she's here, and Ciri is elsewhere, and there's no other purpose she has to be useful to anyone save the retrieval of these orbs, which is a bitter irony in and of itself.

She peers to him then, her expression remaining mostly unchanged apart from a slight shift of her eyes, curiosity more than anything else. ] It merited destruction that significant?