ximilialog | no longer unarmed

beFOREarm

[ A text is being shot out to Newton. ]

You said you were done, right? Are you still in the lab? I'll come to you.

[ And ever a man of his word, Yzak, now UNbusy with whatever he was doing when Newton reached out to him, makes his way to meet up with him. Finally, he thinks to himself, because he absolutely wasn't expecting their little detour after leaving Zeta Alatheia. ]

[Finally, at long fucking last, bro!

Granted Newt had floundered a little on completing things on his end, too, after coming back injured and baffled at the state of things on the Ximilia. But a bunch of uncomfortable memories and revelations later, he can at least get back to the things he really needed to finalize — one of which was Yzak's spiffed up prosthetic arm. It's amazing how many arms a guy has to make once he's on a space station, yanno?

But a response comes in next:]

Come on down, man! And I wanna here 0 complaints about me enjoying my speakers again!

[Don't mind the muffled sound of punk music as you approach, buddy.]

[ Newton can practically see the face Yzak is making when he receives that message.

Well, for this, just for this, he won't make a fuss. Since Newton is - has been doing him a huge favor here - just like McCoy and Sabriel have been. ]

I'll be there shortly.

[ Any additional faces that he makes when he approaches and hears the distant, muffled music floating down the hallways he gets out before he actually enters and lets his presence be known. ]

Newton.

[ He speaks up, well-practiced in Being Loud, so he's able to speak over the music. ]

Yzak!

[Hollered over TOO LOUD music, but he is kind enough to turn it way down once Yzak's actually in the room. He's looking a lot better off than he had before, no sling and just a little stiffness now in the way he carries his shoulder. Pretty much rarin' to go for the next mission. But the important thing before that: getting his pal his arm!]

Wanna come take a look? Tell me what you think! I've been making all the final little details.

[ Thank you for caring for his Coordinator ears here Newton you're a bro. ]

I will. [ He speaks with that tone that implies hell yeah he's going to voice what he thinks if something seems below par or something!! Yet despite saying it and saying it like that, there's no actual pessimism in him about this. He trusts Newton and knows him well enough that he wouldn't let him down. ]

You made sure to include the couple I specifically wanted? [ Minute ones, specifically placed wires in a subtle sort of shape. An easy access to a blade that could be easily detached if needed.

He approaches to look over the creation with Newton. While he handles it with the care of anybody holding something new for the first time, it's not light. This is going to be his, after all - needing to move and function and be able to take the wear and tear of a battlefield. So he expects it to be sturdy and not fragile. ]

Huh. [ His eyebrows slowly raise, his lips part into a somewhat awed little "o," clearly impressed. ] It's strange to see it now while knowing how much work went into it. All hidden on the inside not unlike a real limb hiding muscles and veins and bones beneath the surface.

[Not to be overly dramatic, but Newt would rather get a nail in the foot than totally fail at his job.]

Everything's just how you want it, of course! I know I can go pretty off the cuff sometimes, but this sort of thing is important! It's on a personal level! [He beams a little too proudly at Yzak's quiet awed expression, all while some of his heavy music hums at a low volume around them.] It's all about the professionalism. It's an art! Like, my drifting machine was made out of garbage super short notice — but when you give me some time, I can make it as sleek as a racing car.

How's the weight? You think you can handle it?

[ That's something they have in common because Yzak, too, has zero intention of doing a bad job at something so important. ]

Good. [ He speaks, engrossed in looking over every little detail that it might even come off as dismissive, but it's just slightly unfocused because all focus is his eyes and hands checking out the prosthetic.

There's a small dip at the edges of his lips, but it's brief, like the twist of emotion he feels swirl and tighten in his chest. There's gratefulness, for those who've worked so diligently together to create this for him. But it doesn't replace, it doesn't erase. It doesn't heal anything outside or inside nor does it fix anything broken inside of him even if it does for this part of the outside. It'll serve as much a reminder of what he tried so hard for only to fail in the end as much as having no arm at all does already.

It does help, though.

It will help.

He'll be a better asset to the team. Slightly higher odds for a mission success, which means better odds for their overall success. And that success, his regret, feels like the only thing he still has that hasn't failed.

(yet, those shadowy tendrils that lurk and creep in the back of his mind whisper)

The feelings blossom, squeeze, and then recede, because in the face of such proudness and enthusiasm Newton shows - like a light, they can't linger for long before the shadows that try to consume are driven back.

Yzak's gaze moves back to meet Newton's, becoming more aware of the weight of the piece in his hand.]

It should be fine. It feels fine and like it'll balance like it should.

If I need any minute adjustments after it's actually set, we can figure that out then. [ That's spoken with all of the assurance that it won't be a problem for the other man.

...

For all of those invasive thoughts that come through Yzak's mind, he ultimately knows that Newton did this for him. Because they're friends, because he wants to see him happier, better instead of useful. Difficult as it is for Yzak to look at it that way anymore. Still, his voice gets a little softer, sincere. ]

Thank you, Newton.

[Newt watches quietly, studious. Granted, he's usually more studious of things or of wildlife than people — but in moments like these, it feels important to pay attention. His chin tilts a bit, a cautiously optimistic smile pulling at his lips.]

It's no trouble at all, man. As long as it's good to you, it's great to me.

[But.

But.]

Are you good, too?

It's more than good to me. And once it's set, I'll prove that to you. You did say you wanted me to play the violin again, and I'm not one to forget something like that.

[ He feels he owes that to Newton, at least. It'll make him happy to know he's back to it. That, and ... Yzak does want to give something back that makes someone else happy. Even if his duty brain twists that into keeping morale up, doing what he should do with this gift that he doesn't entirely believes he deserves. Much like how he saw things back when he skirted death so dedicated his life to paving a future for his people even if it was with bloodied hands - worth it, as long as it meant less blood on the hands that would come after his.

Is he good, though? He hasn't been good since everything he fought so hard for worked yet still went completely belly up, and here he is, still desperately try to put whatever pieces he can back together.

There's a small pause, like he's considering what to say to Newton. He neither wants to bullshit him nor have to deal with being completely, vulnerably honest. Though in the end, the truth ekes out a win for the most part. ]

I don't exactly enjoy having to do any of this when it all stems from such a colossal failure. But, I'll be as good as I'm going to be once this is done.

Of course I want you to play violin again! Duh. You're awesome at it.

[Which is just Newton's way of returning Yzak's usual method of support and love — by being a little flippant, a little huffy. Really, it reminds him of Hermann and him when they used to begrudgingly praise the other as a sign of hidden respect and care. He misses those days, sometimes. Or even a lot.

But then, more seriously:]

It's the orbs that fail us most of the time. You know that, right?

... Sometimes, we suffer because of the failure of something or someone else totally out of our control.

Except so much seems to fall so easily out of my control. [ The words come out before he can vet them, decide if he even wants to say them. But there's such a visceral reaction he feels when it comes to the reality of how much truly is out of his control - even the rare occasion where he actually wanted to try putting himself and his wants and happiness over his duty.

He looks back down to his soon-to-be new arm. ]

But this was my—

[ A pause, a stop to himself before he says what he'll regret. Mistake, he almost says. He knows none of his choices were mistakes, and he'd even hate himself if he ever came to see them that way. He has no regrets despite the fact that everything crumbled the moment he succeeded. But time has allowed pain to warp into something powerful inside him that twists and taunts and whispers things that he hates. Not unlike the doubts he once had that plagued him that he'd worked so hard to drive away in order to try in the first place.

His brow pinches into something slightly pained, stressed. ]

—my choice. [ He finishes. ] So I have to live with it, either way. Whether it was myself or the orbs or something else entirely that failed, the end result is still the same.

Hey. We all know how that feels, okay? When things fall out of our control.

You're not — alone, feeling like that, is what I'm trying to say.

[Newt had a lot of things fall out of his control. Yzak knew that too well, being here as long as he had. And the same goes for a lot of people around here. Blue had been one of those people, in his own way — being unable to keep control, having to live with the consequences. He reaches out, gripping Yzak's wrist softly.]

Life does shit like this a lot. It's unfair and messy and screwed up, man.

Failure is going to always be part of the equation, when it comes to being alive.

... It's how we deal with it that makes the rest of it better or worse.

[ Newton will feel it, the way Yzak tenses when he reaches for his wrist. The twitch as if he wants to wrench it away, wrench himself completely away from this. This wasn't bad a moment ago. This should be a good thing, he should be grateful - he is grateful but suddenly nothing about this feels good. And when nothing feels good, Yzak feels trapped. And trapped means he desperately tries to claw his way out of it (but he can't, not here, not out of this), feels the fear and anger and despair pop inside of him as his lips pull back into a twisted grimace. ]

I don't even know what "rest of it" I have left! After handing half of my life over to those things too! [ He says it easily, despite only one other person on the team knowing about it; because it's not so much a secret or a shame so much as it's simply something that does not come up as naturally as or can be seen as clearly as his arm. ] Now - that's all fucked up now, too...!

And I didn't mind that because I shouldn't be alive now after the things I did in the first war. The only reason I even came here in the first place was because I decided that this life belonged to my home and my people more than it belonged to me after that. [ Nails dig so harshly into his palm that they nearly draw blood, his fist so tight that it trembles in Newton's grasp. It's where Yzak drops his gaze, too, when he arcs his head downward, feeling the backs of his eyes begin to sting, everything inside him cracking. ] But I figured, if it worked and I could save Blue it'd be worth giving pieces of myself up for. I could still get my regret undone and save all of those people back home. I could return and continue to do what I swore to do on top of that, even if I had less time to do it. I'd just work harder at it, both to make up for my selfishness and because I'd have that one thing I wanted for myself ... I'd have him there with me.

Now I can't fix or change a god damned thing. I worked so hard to find a way in the first place and that was hell because I didn't know if a chance was even possible, all while watching him suffer every single day - die on Badrock. When I found a way, I wasn't sure if it would actually work. And it did work ... but he barely had a chance to experience it and I can barely remember any of it because he got taken away so quickly that I wasn't even finished recovering from losing this fucking arm!

He wanted to stay here, to help everybody else reach their goals, he wanted to come with me, he wanted more time for all of that and he got more time but he still just disappeared like everybody else does! And I could fix all it so easily if I changed my reason for being here. But, he cared about his own people as much as I do mine, so he'd have to carry that burden and it would kill him and I'd hate myself for it. So I can't even do that! I don't even have the consolation of something like knowing he's back where he came from much less whether he'd remember anything or not because he's dead there too so none of that matters! I lost everything and gained nothing in the end and wound up in a more powerless position than I started out in!

[ He swallows hard, throat tight and dry. Every thump of his heart feels as though a blade is carving through it. ]

... I didn't want to do any of it at the start. Especially at the start. Because it meant disappointing my mother and forfeiting my duty. Going against the expectations of us Coordinators, wondering if I deserved to even consider wanting something so good for myself.

But I did it all anyway. And I was ... afraid. [ It comes out sharp, like he hates saying it, hates admitting to feeling it at all. ] There was so much I was afraid of. But you'd said it plenty of times before, fortune favors the brave.

[ Wet, blue eyes flit back up to meet Newton's gaze - tired, angry, cracked, broken - just like the next words that he speaks. ]

And it really favored me in the end, didn't it.

[By the time Yzak's looking at Newton, spitting his own phrase back at him, he's pale as a sheet and looking like he'd just seen a ghost — not sure when he ended up with his back to the lab shelf behind him, digging into his hip as he retreats. Usually Yzak's outbursts and ire fall off him like an easy April shower; now, he stares with his mouth parted in some part panic, some part unintelligible concern.

Rather uncharacteristically, he seems like the ability to speak has been funneled right out of his lungs. All he can provide is a flinch, sudden, lurching, at the words thrown at him, not for the first time — fortune favors the brave. And he finds he can't do anything but glance down at the arm he'd been working on in this space, checked out on everything else in the world around him. Maybe he had retreated that way from a lot of things he should have known. Maybe...

Maybe he should be upset in some other way; most people expect him to fumble through a heated speech, or yell back, or — deny deny deny, until he's blue in the face. Maybe that could have been the Newton from before the precursors took complete control, unburdened by a very big, very deep well of self-doubt.

What should he say? What can he do? The cold fear of Yzak's admissions grapples with the urge to do something to fix it, anything, instantly, with all of his skills at hand. But there's nothing there. Nothing he can do. Nothing at all. Other than cobble together an arm and hope it's enough.

Well.

There's not much else he can offer. Some days, he's terrified it'll be like he's been told time and time again, in the confines of his own mind — that he's worthless beyond what he can invent. But he also knows he's freaked out for Yzak's health now, and even more concerned for his mental state, and he just wants to do whatever helps, so he steps forward and wraps the other up in a tight embrace.]

[ That's the difference between his short temper and fussy grousing compared to something like this, and it becomes easy to discern what you could just laugh off or not have to worry about when this sort of intensity lies beneath. It's usually kept in check in lieu of all of the small, usually harmless ways he can lose his composure that come out instead. But over time even those better defenses have been worn down while he tried to find a solution even while constant ache clawed its way through his heart.

But he was brave despite that. Part because that's just what he was used to being. As a Coordinator. As a mobile suit pilot. As a soldier. As a leader. But more than that, this time it was as himself.

And even that solution was ripped from him the moment he set his hands on it, as painfully as his arm was. But he willingly, happily paid that price for it because he finally set his eyes on a future that included himself in it because he thought it'd last more than the one tiny sliver of time that it all felt worth it. He'd created that path that he was always afraid he'd never find, and upon taking a single step onto it disappeared, instead becoming a cliff, a chasm he's still trapped in.

He knows somewhere it's a shitty thing to do - to throw those words back at Newton like that. Because they were words that once supported him as strongly as Newton and his infectiously encouraging self has always supported Yzak and the rest of the team when it was needed. Newton was always the 'good cop' in that way whereas people like Yzak gave support in more terse, serious ways - well aware that you catch more flies with honey. But that's the thing about grief and anger when it stews, when it simply sits with nowhere to go and no way to rid of it. It just comes out without a second thought or a filter and everything feels like a desperate rush of fight or flight but he can't escape from this so he can only lash out instead.

But despite that he finds himself pulled tightly into the other man's embrace. Simultaneously he feels his muscles tense and those already cracked walls get slack, grow weaker. This isn't what he's used to. He's used to rebuttals and arguing and yelling until someone backs down or he just goes stomping off until his head cools and things just shift back to normal. But nothing feels normal anymore - everything shifted inside of him and he was left with no plan or no hope to fix or reverse it when it all collapsed on itself. Maybe that's why he doesn't rebuff the gesture, exactly because it feels off, wrong, just like everything else has. Just like it feels wrong when his own arm comes up between them as if to shove Newton away (make sure that he doesn't just disappear, too), but stops halfway into the action so his hand just grips uselessly (desperately) and white-knuckled at the fabric of his shirt. Feels wrong to dip his head down, press into his shoulder as if doing so will somehow hide the evidence of tears.

More likely, is that so much feels wrong and he hates it, wants to reject it, but knows that he can't so maybe takes this one, vulnerable moment (because his mind still screams against it, already begins to consider ways to ensure that this never happens again) to admit that it's there and it's killing him from the inside. ]

[These kinds of emotional things always happen so fast, Newt's head spins every time. But he feels like this is all something good, that this was worth getting his ass, for lack of a better word, reamed for the sake of Yzak's turbulent headspace. He doesn't say anything, afraid to break the moment with some ill-timed comment, and instead carefully reaches around to rub quiet circles into Yzak's stiff and trembling shoulders.

He's cried plenty himself, especially when he was exhumed from precursor control. It was actually kind of harder to cry the months after, but that initial dam breaking did fucking wonders for the obstruction in his throat that they had given him for a year before that. Now, it's really good to see Yzak have the same freedom.

It's only after some time has passed that he finally speaks up:]

It's alright, to feel like shit about it.

You don't have anything you gotta prove to me, dude... You got a shitty deal. It happens, but it doesn't mean you can't be pissed and let it out. But you — you gotta find a way to keep going from here.

[If he sounds a little brittle at the end, it's because he's worried for Yzak.

Of course he is. Why wouldn't he be?]

[ He says nothing to the first comments - silent, and still hating this vulnerability, trying his best to recover from it. Newton's probably easily aware that something like this is harder for Yzak to deal with as well, so he will assume (hopefully not in vain) that Newton will not bring any attention to nor mention this moment ever again once they move forward. Tears? There were no tears here, no trembling of his shoulders or choked speech through gritted teeth while he tried to swallow it back, keep it at bay.

When he leans back, straightens up, he rubs the back of his wrist over the bridge of his nose in a quick motion (actually really his eyes, but shh).

Keep going...

He still lingers, eyes drifting away and downward, voice still low. Though it's already beginning to take on that cadence it usually has. One hand remains balled into a tight fist, willing himself back to normal. ]

I have no choice but to keep going. I have my regret to undo. And if I can't even do that — then what the hell was the point of any of this?

[ He's not exactly looking at keep going the same way Newton probably means there. But it's like he just said when everything began to bubble and spill over, even his regret has turned into something that taunts him in its own way. He can't even be selfish and change it without making everything worse. But even that aside, it's something he's long sworn to, and something that he feels he owes to make right. ]

Hey. Whaddya mean?

[He pulls back, his hands kneading the spaces at Yzak's shoulders where they've rested. His smile is sad — but it's a smile anyway.]

... Even if I fail and end up some possessed, braindead meatsuit, this was all worth it. Is that grim? Sure. But... All the bullshit, all the pain, I don't regret it. 'Cuz I had you guys in my worst moments. You know...? I love this crew. I love the people who can't stand me, and I love the people who put up with me. I love the people who piss me off on a regular basis! And I love all the people who're gone now.

There isn't a day that goes by that I don't feel sad about not seeing them again, either. And there's not a day that goes by that I don't fall into some self-pity about how fucked things got.

But this place, you can't look at it as just a place to fix regrets. It's part of your life, dude. Even if we walk away forgetting all of it, it's happening, and it's ours. The bad and the good.

[He thumps a hand against Yzak's shoulder.]

Stop being a soldier about it, and just be a person figuring themselves out.

[And then, the waterworks that had been held at bay on his behalf begin in full.

Full blubbering mess mode has been initiated.]

But also, fuck you, dude!

I'm so worried about you!

[ Remembering or forgetting: another something here that he feels the deep, desperate urge to fight for, to take control of for himself. Even things that belong solely to him feel in jeopardy, at the whim of some other entity. Is something his anymore if he doesn't even know of its existence?

There are the more optimistic, romantic takes on these things. Just like how Newton explained it. Even notions one could apply to Yzak, the deeper grief goes is just a reflection of how powerful love is. Whether or not one remembers this, it still happened, imprints on the soul and whatnot.

All heartwarming, softened sayings.

But absolutely terrible to have to deal with because it sure doesn't feel as gushy and comforting as it sounds from the outside.

(so much so that that those horrible useless human emotions kick in, stray thoughts that manifest, try to attach to something but thankfully disappear just as quickly as they appear; ones that wonder if it'd just be easier to forget it all because this ongoing hurt doesn't have an end in sight and he upended his whole future and he still has to face that when he didn't want to in the first place and now—)

((he knows he can't, he won't succumb to them. he'd be an even bigger disappointment, to his friends, so Newt, to Blue, to himself because he doesn't want to either. those deep, unprompted, unfiltered and unwanted but very normal and human thoughts just happen))

Does he want to argue it, though? No, not really. But he doesn't really want to just accept it, either. Or it's more that even if he wants to, he was never good at simply letting himself do that, just be a person figuring himself out. And when he did really try that, well. That's why he's here like this now.

But whether or not he would have argued, when Newton looks back up to him, his turn to cry now, it completely takes Yzak off guard. And he's already at a disadvantage, weakened and soft and vulnerable, so there's more confusion in his face and his tone when he responds. ]

Wh-what!? [ Always with that bit off offense because how dare someone else use the vulgarities, here. ]

What the hell do you mean by that—!? I just basically told you I wasn't giving up! [ Of course, and again, his idea of keep going is still a little skewed where he's concerned. ]

[He rubs his face on his sleeve, trying to play off that he's emotionally taxed.

He's fine, we're fine, everything's fine!]

Yeah, but — but you've got so much going on, and you gave up a lot, and there's nothing I can do about it! My prosthetics aren't even that good! I could do way better. [He kicks at the ground. No cans to kick around here, though.] Do you know how crappy it is when your pal needs help, and you can't offer anything for it? I can't do anything else for you but pat your back and say 'there there' like some loser!

It fucking sucks.

[ Two idiots with wet leaky eyes just yelling at one another. ]

Yeah, and I gave it all up willingly! I wouldn't have if I couldn't handle it! Or if I would have regretted it! Or if it would have burdened him or if I thought I'd need anybody to do anything about it!

[ What he needs - what he desperately wants - is for any of it to feel worth it. Because none of it does anymore, lack of regret or acceptance of his own choices aside. When the one person you give it all up for just disappears immediately after ... after all that, with neither of you getting to actually enjoy the fruits of everything you fought so hard to find and leaving you broken and alone to pick up your own pieces...

Well, there are solutions. Easy ones that can fix it all and give him what he wants. A simple regret change with yet another price that he'd gladly give. But as admitted, he knows he can't and that he's stuck there, too. And that's also his own damned fault, for picking what he did to change to make that impossible now.

Yzak Jule, both advertently and inadvertently the creator of his own problems. ]

Because I don't need anybody to do anything about it. Unless they have a way to fix it! [ Spoken rather hopelessly. Fix it. Bring Blue back here. Or even back home - his home, on PLANT, once they're done here with this bullshit. And then, added with a slight crack in his voice that betrays him: ] Which they don't.

But I said yes anyway when you offered to make me this! [ His left hand gestures at the prosthetic arm. ] I didn't need it, I've been adapting just fine. But you wanted to make it for me to help and it does help and it will help so don't even give me that bullshit about not doing anything or acting like it's not good and isn't going to work perfectly!

That's a hell of a lot more than patting me on the back! Idiot!

Just because you can handle it doesn't mean it should have to happen!

[He throws his hands up in the air.]

It's not enough, okay? It's never gonna be enough, for all the stuff you've all done for me. I'd be dead a hundred times over if you guys weren't always there to save my ass. I'd be some vegetable with aliens in my head, or falling down some pit, or getting eaten by some monster. So yeah, I gotta do more than just this. You think I'd be where I am if I didn't have people like you?

[He seems to calm down, though. What else is he gonna do, keep getting worked up until he explodes into bits? With a sigh, he lowers his chin and quiets.]

I mean. It's probably a selfish thing, too. I feel better when everyone else feels better.

I hate seeing you feel like this.

Yeah. Well. [ It doesn't mean to come out as short as it does. But. At least it's cushioned by sounding fatigued. ] Get used to it. [ Because he's felt like this for a long time, good as he's been at cramming it down and saving himself the embarrassment of a moment like this one. And there's no end in sight, much like there's no bottom to the abyss he's been plunged into.

Yzak, meanwhile, averts his gaze off to the wall on either side of him, fingers of his left hand now back down at his side fidgeting with one another. Impatient. Uncomfortable. Frustrated. Lost. ]

Because there's nothing "more" that anybody can do, anyway. [ It hurts Yzak to say as much as it might hurt Newton to hear, because he means himself there, too. And he hates admitting weakness or shortcoming, much less defeat. ] The arm is enough. It's beyond enough and probably more than I deserve. You don't owe me anything else because nothing I or anyone's done here for you was done expecting some form of payback! So I don't need more than that. I just need-

[ ... ]

... I don't know what I need.

... Dude, I don't know what I need, let alone what you need.

[Newt shrugs helplessly.]

You got me?

[He stops, looking kind of sheepish about it. Yeah, yeah, because having Newt Geiszler is always a positive, right? He's got a long rap sheet of inhospitable environments and unbecoming conduct on complaints from co-workers. That's not really including all of the unspoken stuff that has happened during their time here. Tucking his hands into his back pockets, he adds more meekly:]

And, I — I mean. It's just. I'll build you as many arms as you need. So.

... yeah.

I've got you.

[ It spoken weakly, but soft and isn't disingenuous. Because clearly Newton is correct, there, and that means more to Yzak than he can easily admit. ]

Let's not assume I'll need more than one arm when I havent even gotten this one set up. I have no intention of ruining this one so easily.

[ ... ]

But the potential backup is appreciated.

Of course, man. That's what I'm here for.

[A very large part of why he's pushing ahead so determinedly is because he wants to support his team. As long as he can do that... then it's all worth it. Even if he ends up getting sent home against his will and failing his regret, at least the others will have had some kind of back-up to get theirs one step closer to completion.

It's atonement. For some of the orbers. The ones who were there when he had nearly fucked it all up.

... But he doesn't beat himself up nearly as much as he did before, believe it or not.]

Are you — gonna be okay?

[For today, he means. If he finally lets you go to finish the day, are you good?]

[ His eyes close briefly, and he lets out a small huff through his nose as if emphasizing an obvious strength in his next words. ]

Obviously. I'll be fine.

[ He has to be. Even if he's not actually fine at all. It's like Newton said, he has to find a way to keep going from here.

And he's here, he's alive, so that in itself means he's still going. But he still hasn't found a way where it feels like every step forward is heavier than the last.

With a small nod to the arm. ]

Thank you again, Newton.

[ Not just for the arm. The unspoken appreciation for ... this, is evident in his tone, too. ]

Of course, man. You're, like, one of the most important people in my life.

[He says it as easily as anything, throwing his hands up a little before they fall back to his sides.]

Anything else you need, you just reach out and give the word.

[It's that simple, buddy. Once you're his pal, you're his pal.]

[ Words like that will always hit him like a ton of bricks. Sturdy Coordinator body that can handle thrashing around a cockpit in the middle of space and gunfire and explosions and yet something like this can feel so much more powerful because of how much more deeper it goes. Yzak looks briefly taken aback, as though hearing it is something brand new to him, but it's more that he'll never quite get used to hearing such sincere things without being moved.

It's not as though he considers himself completely unworthy of it. But the thought does bubble up from time to time. It's like he's said before, he should have died a long time ago because of the horrible things he did - things he makes no excuses for; he carries those sins with him and doesn't pretend they don't exist. Yet he lives, and because he still lives he's dedicated his life to his people, to working for something better for the sake of so many of his loved ones who have died. It was the same with Blue, too, sometimes it felt like he had something too bright, too good for someone like him.

Yet he loved him all the same. Just like Newt loves him now.

And he wants to be worthy of that love. As much as he has the capacity to be as such. As much as he occasionally feels those doubts creep up into the back of his mind like a parasite, whispering that he isn't, that he doesn't deserve it and will never deserve it and he's just going to lose this good thing too somehow.

But here Yzak is anyway, desperately trying to hold onto it because it's what he wants more than anything: to be cared about, to be wanted, to be loved.

He feels it again, the odd sensation vaguely stinging the backs of his eyes. But it's not the sort of overwhelm he felt just minutes ago; that was painful, soul-wrenching. This time it's because he feels, briefly, like the pain is less, the void is smaller. Because someone is here and doing their best to help it because they care this much for him.

But Yzak does not wish to cry again, even if what threatens him now is sentimental and touched. So he pulls in a quick, but deep little breath through his nose, exhales, and then nods, responding to the last thing Newton says. ]

I will.

[ Yzak turns, pausing to look at the arm one last time. A gift made for him that means more than he can probably ever put into words since it was made by Newton with those very feelings that are affecting him so much right now.

And then he takes his leave, so he can properly begin the preparations to be able to use it. ]

Forearms? No I Only Have Two (FINALLY)

[ With yet another adjustment period to power through comes the resolve to complete it in short order as well as perfectly. It shouldn't be too difficult, right? He's had two arms for the majority of his life, so certainly this should come to him naturally.

Earlier on, in the days following the actual fitting of the prosthetic, Yzak is on doctor's orders taking it easy. Small tasks while his body heals and adjusts along with everything recently installed onto (and into) his body for the actual armpiece to attach to. Yzak is a creature of habit anyway, so many of his usual tasks are simply things he can be found doing on any given day during their downtime on the station.

A.
In the common area, he'll have a chess set and a book out, using his right arm to fix the pieces into certain places mirroring the book's image; various difficult tests of strategy to capture a win from a near-unwinnable situation. Alternately, he can be sitting back on one of the sofas more comfortably, testing the way his fingers move to hold a pen and then writing a few things down in a notebook; a somewhat slow action as things don't feel as familiar as he thought they would, Hm.

B.
In the training room, Yzak sticks less to training and more to some careful exercises. Still a bit sore with muscles tight, he aims to work on disallowing them to get worse with a slow roll of his new shoulder, once with his arm down, once outstretched, one raised up. All different levels of strain and feeling on the muscles and nerves in the surrounding area. ]

I guess I'm going to need to work on handling a firearm with this hand, too...

C.
[ He can also be, well, heard in his own room at some point, on one of the rare occasions someone manages to catch him there. ]

AAAAAUGH GOD DAMN IT!

[ What on earth could be going on here?

D.
In the Sunlight Room, Yzak is sitting where he thinks he's being discreet; near the river, back up against a tree a couple of feet away. His left hand is fiddling with ... something, on his new prosthetic. Once his hand moves away, on the deltoid is something that looks like a decal of a badass flaming skull (somehow you can just TELL this came from Newton).

Yzak stares down at it for a couple of minutes, neutral expression slowly transforming into that all-too-familiar cranky look. ]

So stupid...

[ He mutters, and yet there's something undeniably fond about the way he says that. ]

[There's a loud set of three knocks on the door shortly after Yzak yells. Minimus wasn't trying to sound like a cop, but he naturally sounds like one.]

What's going on in there? Are you in danger?

—Huh!?

[ Yzak's voice sounds surprised, almost as if he didn't realize he was cursing that loudly. ]

No!

No— nnngh, hang on a second!

[ It's true that he doesn't sound like he's in danger, but he does sound very frustrated.

A few moments pass, Minimus can hear steps and shuffling in the interim before the door finally slides open. There stands Yzak, looking only slightly disheveled in a bathrobe with the right sleeve empty - he's currently got his brand new arm off at the moment. ]

What?

[ Very smooth greeting. ]

[He glances at the empty sleeve before looking down at Yzak, now that he's wearing his armored form to be safe.]

You sounded as if you were in distress. Are you in danger?

...You seem well, but one cannot assume much on this ship.

I'm fine, I'm fine!

[ He waves his left hand, and then gently smooths it over his right shoulder. ]

Just— with all of the new things set in for this arm and waiting for it to heal, making sure I don't impede that in the meantime is a pain in the ass! Making sure it doesn't get wet in the shower before some final touches can be adjusted...

Do you need help removing and attaching it? We Cybertronians often replace our limbs, and it remains difficult each time.

[Especially during the war, and especially when you're wearing a mecha suit and each arm takes 10 minutes to slip on.]

That's not the difficult part. At least, I haven't had any real issues with that yet, and don't have any intention to gain them.

[ For a better visual example, he'll gives a small tug to the draped right shoulder of his robe. Where his arm would go are a few plates set into parts of his skin and beneath it; a bionical set up so he can properly move his arm when it's set. As the work was all just recently done, the surrounding skin is still raw and red, swollen in places as it heals. ]

I've just got to be careful with this while it heals. Despite being a Coordinator, it's still a process, even if a faster one than a standard human.

[ Yzak Jule has long accepted the fact that he doesn't exactly deserve to be alive, and only skirted death thanks to some extremely specific and lucky circumstances. That doesn't mean, of course, he takes his life lightly. Sure, it's dedicated to everything outside of himself more than anything else, now, but he can't properly dedicate anything if he's falling apart and not taking care of himself.

Thus, after their return to the station - their version of the station - and the whirlwind of finally, finally after all of these months, finishing and "installing" a proper prosthetic replacement for his lost arm, Yzak remains steadfast in taking proper care of himself before the the next mission is dropped into their laps. And part of that taking care includes follow-ups as the flesh around the new arm heals - so there's that progress on top of making sure all of the new parts are properly staying in place during the process. Even if Yzak himself feels it's going well, he doesn't skimp because he is a good patient.

That brings him to the infirmary today to check in. ]

Hello?

[ He calls, to see which doctor is in. ]

[Chishiya is manning the infirmary on his own at the moment. The last round of crew departures put something of a dent in the infirmary staff, unfortunately.

When he hears Yzak, he peeks out from behind the an open cabinet where he's looking over their inventory of medications.]

Ah, Yzak-kun.

[He closes and locks the cupboard before approaching him.]

What do you need?

Just Yzak is fine.

[ He glances around the infirmary - quiet and not as busy for a change. Small miracles. And Chishiya seems to be the only one here. ]

I'm here to check up on this. [ A small wave of his left hand over his right shoulder area. And then he raises an eyebrow. ] You're helping out here?

[Whether or not he will actually call him Yzak remains to be seen, but he doesn't argue.

He quirks an eyebrow at the question.]

You're surprised?

[ He opens his mouth.

Closes his mouth.

... ]

I don't know! I just wasn't expecting to see you here.

You know what you're doing, then? Can you take care of this?

[He smiles faintly at the response.]

I'm a cardiovascular specialist. Sure.

[The circulatory system is at least a little relevant to the healing process.]

But I can call in someone else, if you want.

[He's a troll, but he'll make an effort to be professional when it comes to medicine. If Yzak has another doctor or healer he prefers, he won't be insulted.]

It's just a routine check-up. And my body is much more durable than a Natural's, so I'm sure there won't be any issues. I'm fine with not making someone else come all the way here if you can handle it properly.

Hoh?

[He leans against a nearby counter, tilting his head curiously.]

So does that make you unnatural, somehow?

Edited 2023-07-04 22:31 (UTC)

Naturals are what we call— humans. Baseline humans with baseline human abilities relative to our world.

Coordinators are humans, too, of course. But we're genetically enhanced, so many of our limits and characteristics are beyond what a Natural is capable of. Pain tolerance and ability to recover from injury, for example.

Genetic enhancement.

[That sounds kind of sketchy, tbh. Though it does sound like it has its advantages. But he's cynical and he has to wonder.]

Did you consent to that?

I'm a second generation Coordinator. Meaning I was born inheriting the advanced traits from my parents without the need for any sort of addiitonal enhancements.

But to your question of consent - the process for our first generation can only be done in the early embryonic stages of development. [ So technically the answer to that is no. ]

no longer unarmed

Newton

STOMPS INTO THE SCENE

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

1/2

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

OTA rips open my shirt

c

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

for chishiyayayayayayayaya

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject