hadrielmods: (Default)
ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴏᴅᴛᴇᴀᴍ ᴏғ ʜᴀᴅʀɪᴇʟ ([personal profile] hadrielmods) wrote in [community profile] hadriel_logs2016-05-16 10:28 am

Event Log: Dreamwalker

Who: Everyone!
What: The Dreamwalker event
Where: In your comfy bed and your sleepy head.
When: May 16th-26th
Warnings: Good dreams, weird dreams, bad dreams, straight-up nightmares. Please remember to tag for warnings in the header if things are going to be bad!

Have you been having trouble getting a good night's sleep? Tossing and turning, unable to rest those tired eyes? Or maybe you don't sleep at all, and never have. Not to worry! For a little while, you'll have no trouble at all falling asleep - in fact, as night falls, you'll find yourself overwhelmed with exhaustion whether you want to sleep or not. Lay down and rest your weary head, friends. Everyone could use a little extra sleep.

But what will your dreams bring? Something happy, images of a perfect day? Something hopeful, something you've wanted for a long time? Maybe you'll dream of anger, of the face of your worst enemy. Or maybe - just maybe - you'll have a horrific nightmare, and wake screaming, covered in cold sweat.

Not before others have time to see it, though. As you sleep, as you dream, the other residents of Hadriel, friends and enemies and people you've only met once, might find their way into your dreams. Or you might find your way into theirs - and then have to deal with someone's else's nightmares, or hopes, or anger. For the next ten nights, you'll find yourself either a host or a visitor, and no matter how you try you won't be able to stay awake once night falls.

Sweet dreams, Hadriel. Don't let the asshole fear gods bite.

► This log covers May 16th-26th.
► Feel free to make your own logs as well!
► Please tag headers of threads with content warnings where they apply
► Please put your character's name and open/closed in the subject line of your starters!
► You can't die in the dreams, but if you somehow manage to trip and fall and kill yourself getting out of bed, please report it on the death post.
synthedick: (♣ road to freedom)

[synth, interrupted - closed to Rey] [possible spoilers for Far Harbor DLC!]

[personal profile] synthedick 2016-05-22 07:17 pm (UTC)(link)

>͋ͬ̌̎ͫ̄͜ ͫ̔͐Aͫ̎ͣc̉̈́̿c̵e̷̽̾̈̏̌ŝͦͤͦ̅́sͮ̃i̍͆͒n͊̃ͭ̿̾̚͠g̢ ͐ͯ̅̓͌m͊̿͌ͪe͒̇̅͊̉̄͝m̃̀͆or̨̅ͥ͌i̴ęͫs̡ͮ̍̓.͋.̿̐ͣ̓̌ͬ͟.
̒̏͋̔>ͦ̔́͆̑ ̆̐͛F̎͛̏͡i̾̑̓̋̄l̇ͣ͛e̊̉ͤ̐͑͏ ͌͢c̕oͯͮ̇̓͋r͒r̈̔̀͆ͭ͒ủ͊̒̒̓͞p͆̒͛̕t͒̿ͨ̾̉̿ͧ̕e͒͗ͮͥͫ̊͗d̿ͭ̇̉͊͊ͥ.̉͐̌̂͋͋̓ ̶ ̐̾͢P̢r̛̃ͥ͛̒͆͒̏o͋ͦcͥͦ͐͊ͭ̆eͥ͡e̍̍ͣ̕dͮ̃͑ͥ?ͫ

The walls were white, as were the rooms, the paneled walls gleaming with a metallic sheen. The lights were blinding, yet cast hardly a glare on the glass windows that separated one room from the next. There were scientists -- some in lab coats with orange accents, others in green, the colors representing which division they were a part of -- around every computer, scanning the data that came through with eager, scrutinizing eyes. Beyond the glass partition were two identical synthetic men, white uniforms hiding the majority of their bodies; however, there was no disguising their true nature, given their artificial skin and glowing, yellow eyes. One stood by, watching as the other was worked on by more people in lab coats, his head open, wiring exposed.

It was an experiment, a test. It was not the first they'd done; neither the scientists, nor the active synth, assumed it would be the last... though the latter hoped it would be.

The two working on the inactive synth finished their task, closed up the machine's head, and made their exit from the room. "The transfer's as complete as we're going to get it this time," one remarked to a woman standing by the main computer.

Her gaze never left the terminal before her as she answered. "Bring it back online."


Time seemed to jump: the two synths were arguing behind the glass, the barricade rendering them mute. What they had to say wasn't important. The one that had been on the table was active again -- and hostile toward his twin, who was desperately trying to calm him down. For beings so unnatural, they certainly seemed to exhibit genuine emotions: one synth was colored with confusion, the other with absolute remorse.

That wasn't good enough for the scientists, however. The woman before the terminal let out a sigh as the now activated synth grabbed at his head, pressing his hand to his manufactured temple as he leans against the wall. Her eyes returned to the screen. "Looks like the imprint is failing again. We'll need to see how well the retention is, then try again. Separate them for now before—"


"— them all develop like that is too time-consuming for mass production," a man in a green lab coat urged. The head technician in orange sighed.

"It'll work," she insisted. "We just need to iron out the kinks. We'll wipe it tomorrow and try again." With that, the last two scientists in the room headed for the door, leaving the room devoid of people.

Of living, organic people, at least. What was left were the two synths, both in their individual chambers. The one on the left had been nothing but sympathetic toward his brother, even when he'd turned against him. He now sat on the floor in his cell, his back against the wall, legs pulled up before him, elbows on his knees, and his head dipped in quiet contemplation.

His twin was as riled as when he'd come to: he paced around his enclosure like a wild animal, albeit one struggling against his own body as his mind revolted against him. Every now and then, he threw an arm against the wall, his frame shaking as he put a hand over his face. Just who was he? Why was he here? Why couldn't he remember?

He knew all those answers, or would someday. He just hadn't found them yet.
Edited 2016-05-22 19:19 (UTC)
circumitus: Captain Morgan didnt let me down when i stand up it feels like the world is trying to hand me rainbows. (i hate your face)

[personal profile] circumitus 2016-05-22 10:18 pm (UTC)(link)
It's a scene she knows too well, playing out before her like a movie reel. The pristine whiteness, the experiments, the researchers... This whole setup rings familiar, and it sends chills down her spine.

Well, it would, if she had a body. Rey can't, however, quite discern her own body. Not that she's thinking about that much at first. She tries to speak out against the uniformed figures, against what they're doing, but has no mouth to do so. All she can do is watch, a helpless witness to the cruelty displayed before her.

Of course, the researchers would have differing opinions. She is no stranger to the concept of being treated as anything that isn't human, of being referred to as an actual it rather than what she truly is.

When it's over, she's standing outside of the chambers, watching the twins' oppsing responses to their environment and their treatment. The words still echo in her mind: "We'll wipe it tomorrow and try again." And there is anger in the wake of that hideous echo.

Her muscles tighten, and that's when she realizes that she even has muscles now. Sort of. She isn't exactly tangible, but she's visible enough that she sees her own hand when she lifts it over her face, flexing her fingers. Yes, she is here. She is real. But does that really account for much in this place?

She tests this by approaching one of the chambers, peering at the particular twin inside.


Rey's voice comes out clear enough, if not a little oddly distorted. Her shape is blurred and paler in appearance than normal. She blinks with colorless eyes that watch the synthetic man inside his prison, reminded of her own confinement within Glass House in that underground research facility. And, while she may not immediately recognize the figure inside, her own mechanical heart reaches out to him.

Him. Not it. She refuses to follow in the same sick patterns as the people who have kept these two in this Hell.
synthedick: (♣ benign intervention)

[personal profile] synthedick 2016-05-22 10:49 pm (UTC)(link)
Though she approached only one chamber, both synths seem to hear her when she breaks the silence: the more aggressive one flinches for a second, then continues his fevered pacing, while the passive one raises his head, bringing his eyes to her. Though they have a distinctly inhuman quality to them, they are brimming with guilt, remorse, frustration.

And curiosity. "Hello?" he calls back to her, though his own voice is slightly distorted, as well. Perhaps it's a file corruption, some crossed wiring in the dreamer's head, or a fallacy constructed from old, long-forgotten memories, ones that had faded so much that they are impossible for Nick to recall on his own. He is a machine, but his memory is ultimately as faulty as that of a flesh-and-blood man. In some ways, he is more human than he knows.

The synth gets to his feet and approaches the glass, standing a few steps back from it as he regards this stranger to Nick's mind.
Edited 2016-05-22 23:14 (UTC)

[personal profile] circumitus 2016-05-22 11:31 pm (UTC)(link)
Rey glances to the other pacing synthetic before returning her gaze back to the one that just addressed her. She opens her mouth to speak, but what is she supposed to say? What's she supposed to do? Figure out how to open these doors and let them out? Can she even do that here?

She tests this by pressing her hand to the door. Although she can't push through the surface, she can still feel it. Cold and lifeless, like everything else in this room. An eerie shiver courses over her skin, and she hesitates before saying anything.

"What's your name?" she eventually asks, tilting her head to get a better look at the chamber interior, finding that these two have even less than what she had in Glass House.
synthedick: (♠ familiar faces)

[personal profile] synthedick 2016-05-22 11:49 pm (UTC)(link)
The room behind the synth is absolutely bare: there's no bed, no table, no nothing aside from a circular light in the ceiling, a small speaker in one corner, and a small ventilation shaft high in the wall. While there's nothing that would tell of his individual identity within the room, the synth has plenty of it on his own.

"We were not given names," the synth replies. Though his tone is warped, it is pleasant, full of the compassion that is so evident in his eyes. "If I may ask a favor of you, will you te̢ll͡ ͝me i͞f̕ ͘my̕ ̀br͢ot̵h͟e͢r ̸i͡s all right?"

He glances toward the wall that separates his cell from that of the other synth, who has stopped pacing and is standing in the corner of the room, bracing himself against the wall, one hand again on his head.
Edited 2016-05-22 23:53 (UTC)
circumitus: We know how you feel. (kid you're lost in the wheel)

[personal profile] circumitus 2016-05-23 12:11 am (UTC)(link)
Given the barrenness of the rooms, it's no wonder whether they need to eat or sleep, because they probably don't. Rey peers at the synthetic, not surprised by his answer, either. From the sounds of it, the people who sentenced them both to this horrid place treated them more as things than as people. Designating them with names would have humanized them, and they couldn't have that, could they?

It's sickening, watching the treatment she had once endured inflicted on others. Others that, from what she can tell, are far less deserving of this.

Rey then blinks at his request, before checking the other chamber once again. She frowns, trying to think of what to tell him.

"Your brother...?" They do look alike, and the concept of kinship isn't a strange one to even her. Her eyes flick back to the synthetic man speaking to her. "No, don't think he is. I mean, are you?"

Neither of them look to be the dictionary definition of all right. There's no sense in lying to him about that.
synthedick: (♣ restoring order)

[personal profile] synthedick 2016-05-23 12:18 am (UTC)(link)
He smiles at her, the kind of genuine smile that Nick himself wore a lot. "I will be. It's him I'm worried about."

The other synth remains in his corner, his body trembling, chest heaving as he takes in breaths; while he doesn't actually need them, he believes, somewhere in the tangled mess that is his mind, that he does. He will learn otherwise, one day.

It's the first synth's turn for a question. He takes another step toward the glass, looking this apparition up and down. "Wh̕o̧ ar҉è you? How did you get in here?"
circumitus: tall, lanky, uses teeth when giving head, and runs like a giraffe. don't do it, man... (no i know her type)

[personal profile] circumitus 2016-05-23 12:34 am (UTC)(link)
Judging by the looks of things, he has good reason to worry. Should she do something, somehow? She can't just leave these two this way. It isn't right. None of this is right...

She finds herself taken aback by the synthetic's query, staring at him briefly.

"My name is Rey, and I don't..." She bites her lower lip, checking her surroundings. "Don't know how I got here."

There are vague memories coming to her now, bit by bit. What's been going on for the last several nights in that strange underground city. It seems to be much easier to recollect when it's not her head that's being messed with, though. Because this sure as hell isn't her own mind, familiar as it may seem.

"I don't think I'm real." Her fingers curl over the surface of the wall between her and the synthetic man. Her teeth bites down harder on her lip. "Rather, I don't think any of this is real. Not really."

How he's going to take that, she can only begin to guess.
synthedick: (♦ a loose end)

[personal profile] synthedick 2016-05-23 12:46 am (UTC)(link)
He places his own hand on the glass in tandem, mirroring Rey; though synthetic, his processors pick up the texture, the temperature, the sensations of his skin pressing against the smooth surface.

"Wh̢at̕ i͠s it, to be ŗe͞a̸l?̨" he replies thoughtfully, watching his own hand rather than this ghost on the other side of the glass. "We've been told day a̸f̕t̕ęr ḑa̴y t̢h̶at͝ ̀we'r͢e ̢not̡,̵ and yet there is no denying that we think and we feel. We can reason for ourselves, and yet, w̧e ͏c̷a͟n̢noţ-̢-"

"Cut it out!" That's the other synth, his voice a far cry from that of his twin. Whereas the first synth's voice is smooth, tempered, the second's is graveled, cut through his teeth in a fit of pain. Most importantly, it is a voice Rey may know. He leans heavily into the corner, his brain struggling to process all that's been forced into it.

The first synth lowers his voice, as well as his eyes. "Perhaps none of us are real, but y̶ou̢ ̡a͢re̴ ͢h͜e͝r͠e, and that must count for something."
Edited 2016-05-23 00:47 (UTC)
circumitus: Because you're marine grade... You rascal. (you need 400 proof or marine proof)

[personal profile] circumitus 2016-05-23 01:18 am (UTC)(link)
Something about this synthetic is calming. Cool and relaxed, in spite of everything Rey has seen him endure. The thoughts that he imposes on her have crossed her mind numerous of times when she had nothing to do but think.

Her hand slides from the wall to her side at the other twin's outburst, much different in tone and temperament from his brother. It doesn't take her very long to recognize who it may belong to.

"Nick...?" She squints, leaning to get a better look inside the other chamber.

Of course, he looks different. But then, so does she in this place.

Returning her attention to the first synth, she grimaces. "Even if I try to do something, change anything about any of this... it won't make any difference. Doesn't matter what I do. But, um... I want to help."


synthedick: (♣ war never changes)

[personal profile] synthedick 2016-05-23 01:32 am (UTC)(link)
The second synth shudders against the wall of his cell; he's not programmed for pain, yet he feels it all the same, his processor struggling to bear the weight of the mind that's been transferred into it, making some of his sensory receptors go haywire.

"I..." he starts, trailing off as he slides to the floor. The less energy he has to divert to the rest of him, the more he can spend trying to sort out the cluster of data that's copying and recopying itself into his systems. "That's not my name, is it?"

Of course not. He doesn't have a name. He doesn't have anything that's his.

The first synth looks surprised as Rey calls to his brother, and that gets him thinking. This specter of a woman is real enough to him, and real enough to his brother. Perhaps she can do more than she thinks. She wants to help, just as he does -- maybe together, they can actually make a difference.

"Then... help us leave this place," he states in a hushed tone. "I c͘an̸n͠ơt b̶ȩa̢r̡ ͞to͏ ̵watch̸ what is happening to him any longer. This... this is not the first time they have done this. It will n̡ot̶ ̧be ͢t́he ͢la͢st͢, either."
circumitus: Because you're marine grade... You rascal. (you need 400 proof or marine proof)

[personal profile] circumitus 2016-05-23 02:19 am (UTC)(link)
As much as Rey wants to speak to the one she recognizes as Nick, tell him that it is his name, and that it doesn't mean a damned thing that it belongs to someone else... the other has a point that captures her more.

Does it matter whether any of this is real or not? No. What matters is that she's in her friend's head, or that it appears to be, and he is suffering. She doesn't know anything about this place, or the synthetic man in front of her, speaking to her right now, but she does know that. And hell if she's going to stand here and watch it continue. She knows how this cycle spins; knows it all too well. And she hates it.

If this is what Nick has been dealing with inside his own mind, then she has to do something for him. Help in the way that he's helped her. It's only right, right?

"I'll do it," she promises with a single nod. "Don't know how, but I'll figure something out."

She looks around the lab, searching for a console or a key of some sort. A way to break these two from their imprisonments.
synthedick: (♣ memory interrupted)

[personal profile] synthedick 2016-05-23 02:39 am (UTC)(link)
"I would suggest breaking the glass," the synth suggests softly, "but I'm afraid that'd alert se͠ćurity.͝"

Instead, he watches as Rey searches the lab, the gears in his head turning as he tries to be helpful from within his prison. "The l͜ock̷ş a̷r̀e co̵n̷t̶ro͟l̶l̀ed by that terminal on the far desk. Unfortunately, you will need the ͝k͢ey͜. ҉ ͏Dr҉. A͜lle͡n might have left it in his desk, in the old cigar box in the left drawer."
circumitus: Otherwise you'd be a dad by now. (thank god you're gay)

[personal profile] circumitus 2016-05-23 03:04 am (UTC)(link)
Old cigar box. Got it. Better than breaking the glass and tripping the alarms, anyway.

"You'd probably know better than me," she comments, her shape moving across the room towards the desk the synthetic pointed out. The more she moves, the more her form becomes corporeal, permitting her to touch things. Take the desk by its handle and pull it open. Check the computers and access the keyboard. Do what needs to be done.

This needs to be done.

She was born to follow orders. This part comes easy.

So does accessing the terminal, once she's able and has all the tools to. It isn't that difficult to locate the lock controls once she's in, either.

"There you are." Her voice is somewhat less distorted this time, as she's allowed to influence her surroundings more and more. She can do this; she can take control and make things right. Or at least make them feel right.

With one final keystroke, she punches in the final code to unlatch the locks on the chamber doors, releasing them.

So far, so good, it would seem.
synthedick: (♠ long road ahead)

[personal profile] synthedick 2016-05-23 03:27 am (UTC)(link)
The doors slide open, and the first thing the quieter synth does the moment he gets a chance at freedom is run into the other chamber.

"B̡̢rơ̢t̸͟he̛͝r̡̕?̶̨ Are you all right?"

The other synth is not so kind in return: he pulls his hand off his head long enough to shove his twin away, letting out a guttural growl as he curls tighter into himself. The softer of the two doesn't react with aggression, but with the same concern he's had for his fellow synth the entire time. He runs out of the chamber to the largest terminal in the main room, his synthetic fingers impressively fast on the keys. He's observed the scientists for some time, and knows well enough the commands he needs.

He types for only a few seconds, and then it becomes apparent what he's doing: Nick goes limp, his limbs sliding from his head, body falling backward to the pristine floor. His eyes are still glowing, flickering with life behind them.

"I was afraid he would ovèr̷lo̴a̧d͟ hi̵s pr̕o̕c͠esşòr i̸f he redirected too much energy elsewhere," he explains. "I will turn him back on manually, but there is som̧e͞thi͜ng̕ we must do first."
circumitus: Insert Warmer song lyrics here. (good lord knows that i'm greedy)

[personal profile] circumitus 2016-05-23 04:02 am (UTC)(link)
Although Rey doesn't know much about the systems here, she can't imagine that what she did will go unnoticed for long.

"We don't have time--" she starts to say, but then she realizes what the synthetic is doing when the other is rendered inactive for the time being.

While seemingly cruel, she can see the practicality of it. The other synth -- the one who has to be Nick -- is just too stubborn for his own good. And neither of them want to leave him behind.

Rushing to Nick's side, Rey kneels down and takes him by the arm, taking the initiative in hoisting him up off the ground. Luckily she still has her strength, as it doesn't take much for her to carry him out of the chamber. Also fortunate is the fact that she can even grasp anything at all now, as she's determined to make some good use out of herself.

"What do we have to do?" Rey asks the synthetic as she struggles very little when it comes to hauling Nick's dead weight. She'll just have to take his word for it that her friend will be okay, since it isn't like he's insisting that they leave him behind. That just isn't an option.
synthedick: (♣ the sight)

[personal profile] synthedick 2016-05-23 04:21 am (UTC)(link)
"I͝ p̡u͘t̨́ ́m̢͝o̶s̸t҉͟ ͟͡o͏̛f̷̢͘ h̷ì̕s ͏p̸̧͝r̛͟o̶͜ce͢͡ss̵̢e̴̡s̴ i̡n̷̢͘t҉ò͞ ́͝a ̡̀̕l҉o͘w͘͢͡-҉͏̛p͘o̢͠͏w̶̧̢er͟ s͞ta̴̧̧t͘ę̀͜,̡͟" the synth answers; though he still seems fine, his voice is suddenly far more garbled than it had been before. He keeps tapping away at the keys, flying through files and commands. Words come and go from the screen in a flash, but it looks like he's deleting some very crucial files.

"I͏̴ h͏̸̧av҉e͟ ͡c̨͢͞o͡n͘͟si̡҉ḑ͢ę̴r̡ę̸d t̶h҉̧i͟͠s ̴̛f̨͝o͘r͟ ̨̛̀s͜o̕͜m̴̨e ͘͞t̵ìm̨͝ȩ̷͟,̧͘" he continues, darting to Dr. Allen's terminal and grabbing the key card. The door to the lab slides open -- most of the scientists have gone to sleep. If they cannot do this now, it may never happen at all.

"Í ̢do͡wn̨l̕o̷aded̸ ͘m͢aps,̛ f͟o͏u̸nd̡ ̡w̛he̛re͝ ̶th͠èy̡ ke̕p͢t ͠t̷h̴e͠ ͠f͝iles ͟t̷ò ̵re͡mot̵eļy̢ c̡on͜tr͜ol us̷.͝ ͞ I̶͞͠.̛҉̢.͞.̵̕ ̸ń̶ę̴v̴͘er҉ ̢͡i̧͜ḿ́agi̴̷ńe͏̧d̷̷̷ ̧͟I ͝w̸̷͟o̕͝u͝͞l̛d̨̀ ͜҉g̴͢o͡ t̕hr̷̕ou͞g̷͏̧h̶ w͡í͘t҉h̴ ͡҉͢i̢t̶̢.͢ ̵̀H͞͝ow̢e̷v̀er͏̀,̴͟͝ ̨́͞I̵̕͢ ͢͏c̴an͘n̛̛͜o҉͝t͘͘ ̵̷́s͝t͠a̢͡ǹ̵̡d͞ ̛f̵͞͏o̶̡͠ŕ͞ ͜͟t̡͡h̵͟͢is.̀҉ I̸ ̕c̴án̨n̴ót҉ śta̸nd̵ ̸b̨y àn͟d͠ wa̡t̸ch̷ t̷h͏em ̶dò ̀t͢hi͝s t̀o h҉im o̸vér a̢n͟d ̀ov́er͘ ͠a҉g͠aiǹ."

[personal profile] circumitus 2016-05-23 04:43 am (UTC)(link)
Being what she is and having gone through a similar process herself, Rey is well aware of what's just been done. She is even able to discern what it is the synth is saying and doing at the terminal, taking in what he's telling her even in his garbled tones. Very carefully.

That's when it dawns on her.

"He... said that his memories were wiped. That he was thrown out into the trash," she recalls very distinctly, realizing what this synthetic man is doing.

Another thing then comes to mind. Something else Nick had told her -- or, rather, what he didn't tell her...

"He never mentioned you, though." She squints. "Who are you?"
synthedick: (♣ war never changes)

[personal profile] synthedick 2016-05-23 04:57 am (UTC)(link)
Some of what she says seems to fall on deaf ears as he slips into the hallway and through another door. If they can make it to the central stairs, they can make it to the sewers. Though he's never been there before, he has the map recorded to memory. They just have to get there unseen.

He glances back at her, confusion written across his artificial features. His eyes trail to Nick in her grasp, and he doesn't hide the frown that etches across him. "We'͡re͝ ̧p͡r͘o͟t̵ơty͝pes͢,͠ ̕bo̕t̷h him ̛and̀ I͘.̡ ͢ ̀He͘ is͘ ̵m͠y̢ ̧b̕ro͘t̨hȩŕ i̧n th҉is͜, a̛s̡ c͠l̶os̢e to fam͡il̢y͞ a͏ś ͞be҉ing͘s̴ li̧k͢e ųs cán ͡hav̢e̴.̛ Wh̸at ̨th̡ey̢ ̴ha͜v̢e d͘o̸ne͡ to hi͠m͡... k̢e҉ep͜ ͠do̷i̧n̨g t̸ǫ ҉him͟... ̵it is h҉a͏rd f̷o̴r hi͡m̢ to ̶rem͞e̛mb͝er ́m͝e f̀o͟r l̢on͘g."
circumitus: (goddammit you're a loose cannon)

[personal profile] circumitus 2016-05-23 05:27 am (UTC)(link)
Far as kinship goes, Rey is the last one who'd argue the semantics of what makes synthetics family. She accepts it for what it is and doesn't question it in the least. So Nick has a brother he may or may not even know about, or at least has never mentioned to her before. Assuming that any and all of this is real, since this is inside Nick's head and all. Either way, it isn't much different from the man Rey considers her own brother.

Makes perfect sense.

She follows the synth, keeping up despite carrying Nick's extra weight along. It's no big deal.

"I understand," she finally says, softly. "You're doing the right thing. He doesn't deserve to go through that."

Because she knows Nick. She knows how he should be treated and being tortured by those people isn't what he should ever have to suffer through ever again.
synthedick: (♣ the disappearing act)

[personal profile] synthedick 2016-05-23 06:14 am (UTC)(link)
For a machine who has rarely been out of the lab in which he was created, the synth does a fairly good job getting them to the central stairs, dodging the far more mechanical synths that patrol the hallways. They are a far cry from Nick and his supposed brother: their skeletons are completely devoid of the artificial skin that gives the two of them a vaguely human look, their internal workings exposed to the open air. Even their faces only have rudimentary skulls, casings just big enough to hold their processors. There's a reason none of them would ever pass for human. Nick hardly does himself as it is.

Into another hall and up a spiral ramp they go, Nick's brother leading the way. They pass through a room with another big terminal at the top of the spiral, then head down into an alcove. Waiting there is a large grate, beyond it the sound of water.

"T̀h̡is҉ ̕is͠ the͢ t͝unn҉el̵ ̢f͡or ̷t̢he ̛old͢ cooling̕ sy͝st̶em͡ f̵or͏ ͠the ̛r͡éa͠c̵tor," he explains quietly. With his synthetic hands, he has no trouble removing some bolts to allow them access.

"I̛ can̸not̴ b̕eg̕in̛ ͠t͟o̡ t̵ha͢nk ͢yòu͠ e͘n͜o̵u̧g҉h͜," he continues. "Į ͏don'̕t̨ k͢n҉ow ̴w͟h͏o҉ ͠you are,҉ ̧but͜ ̛f͞o̵r s̸omeone͞ ͢t͘o h̶el̷p̀ ̷m̷ac͜h̵in̶e͜s li҉k͝è ͠us...̛ i̢t̵ g҉iv̡es mé ho̡pe fór̛ ͘w͘hat w͘e'͜l͏l f͏in̵d ou҉t͠s҉id̶e o̴f͠ ͟th͟e I͜n͟st̡itu̵t͠e͜.͡"
circumitus: Why was that not a good enough reason to put me to bed? (threw a jar of pickles at a police car)

[personal profile] circumitus 2016-05-23 01:35 pm (UTC)(link)
Following instructions and keeping close to the synthetic man isn't too difficult a task for someone like Rey, who has no trouble even with the extra baggage. She is silent when she notes the other synthetics, not questioning what makes them so different from the two that she's currently aiding. The answer is pretty obvious.

Once they make it to the tunnel and the synth speaks up again, she slows down, takes in her surroundings. She's seen places like this before, and knows well enough how to navigate through them with no complaints. It's almost better, she realizes, that they don't have to worry about dragging Nick along while he's conscious, considering how agitated and difficult he was being before.

A sinking feeling anchors inside her chest when the synth expresses his gratitude. If it had been anyone else, Rey can't see herself acting this generous, despite what she is. She may as well have left them for dead if it hadn't been for Nick, and there's something about that that makes her feel wretched in spite of everything.

"I may not look the same, but I'm not much unlike you. It wouldn't be right to leave you two in that place. Not that I don't want to give you hope in the world out there... Just thought that you should know."

Because it doesn't feel right to lie to him or lead him to think of her as an example of humanity.
synthedick: (♠ leading by example)

[personal profile] synthedick 2016-05-24 12:38 am (UTC)(link)
"It ̨cann̷o͞t̨ ̷be͝ ̀wors͏e ̛tha͘n ̨w͢h҉at f̷u̢t̀uŕe w̧e ͏f̶a̸c͟e͡d i̸n ͘th̸e ̨I҉nśtįt͞u͜t͝e,́" he says somberly. Since his creation, he had learned not only of empathy, but of optimism; he held onto that belief that there had to be some sect of humanity that was surely better than those who'd made him and his twin. "If ̴Ì co͘u̶l͞d͢ ͠dev̛elo҉p͠ compa͡ssion ͝oń ͡my own͠, ́p̧e̸r͝ha̧p͡ś oth̨er̨ ҉s̷y̕n͠th̡s w̸ill̴ ̷be ͏ab͠l̛e ̸to,҉ in ̸ti̛m͜e.̸." Trying to see the best in others must be a trait he shares with Nick.

He keeps traveling, letting silence stand between them as they pass by a few more automated patrols and turrets. Though no one travels down the old tunnels anymore except for maintenance, the Institute keeps an eye on them all the same, albeit a scant one for now. Their numbers thin as they reach areas with more water -- the synth isn't afraid of it as it rises above his waist, well acquainted with his body's limitations on submersion. The Institute tested for how well their bodies sealed away their internal mechanics, after all.


They suddenly go from one part of the tunnel to the next; the water is much higher, all around them as they appear into a dank sewer filled with sludge and barrels of radioactive waste. Certain pieces in the environment aren't lining up anymore as visible glitches degrade the memory. They are near the end now -- so close to freedom.

The synth doesn't seem to realize anything is wrong. "I͢ ca͟n̕not ̵belie͡ve w̷e͠'̸r͏e͢ ͟al̕mos͘t o͞ut͘.͞ O͠n͘c͞e wȩ ̷a̡r͘e,̡ ͏I͢ ̸wil͘l ̨re̸bo̡o̴t ͟h̷im.̶ We̷ ̨c̛a͟n͝ all͘ exper̸i͢enc̵e this̷ n͏e͟ẃ ҉wo̴r͡l̀d to͠gether͜.̧"
Edited 2016-05-24 00:39 (UTC)
circumitus: You can pick it up if you come down with ID... (i do believe we have a fire lady)

[personal profile] circumitus 2016-05-24 01:46 am (UTC)(link)
After everything she's seen, Rey is inclined to agree. If it's one thing she knows about Nick, his odds are much better on the outside than they are in this terrible place. She just can't shake what he had told her before, that he had been tossed out. But this synthetic is helping him escape. She's watching it unfold in front of her, in the shape of Nick's twin.

It occurs to her that, if this was really inside his head and not just a memory, there would be no reason for him to imagine things playing out this way. Perhaps this is something he's had buried in his head for some time, or perhaps it just isn't something that he felt like telling her back when they were discussing his early memories.

She is still working things out in her own head as they make their way through the facility, bypassing its guards and security all the while. It's still gradually sinking in that, here she is, playing a part in the escape of these two synthetics, carrying an incapacitated Nick along. And it doesn't feel too weird to her at all. It feels like this is what she's supposed to be doing, like this is the right choice to make, regardless of how much of an impact she is actually making in the way this scene plays out.

So wrapped up in her own thoughts, Rey almost misses what the twin says. She shakes her head, snapping her attention back as they move forward.

"Will he be okay? I saw you deleting some things earlier on that terminal. Hope he didn't need those."

Of course not. Would Nick be functional at all if he did? It just begs to question what they actually were.
synthedick: (♦ the devil's due)

[personal profile] synthedick 2016-05-24 02:34 am (UTC)(link)
The synth laughs, his chuckle a bit on the unnatural end. He's still working on that.

"Ţhe ҉In̛s҉ti̕tut̨e ́m͠ad̢e͞ c̀ode͘s ̧t͡o ̢s͘hut͟ ús do͏w̧n̕ remǫt̛el͝ý, ̷p̸r̢o̸gra̷ms̢ ̷t͠h̵a͝t͟ ͞w̕o̶u͘l͡d͡ k҉e̷e͞p͡ ùs ̴f̨r̡o̸m̷ ̢túr̴nin̴ǵ ̵o͞n͡ thém͢.͡ ͟ ͝The̢y̨ ha͜d̴ ͢t̕h̶o͜şe c̷od͢e͟s, ͟any̨w͘ay.̸"

He pushes on. The smell of water -- fresh sea water, not the stagnate mess they are trudging through -- is clearer.

"The͟y͝ ͡d͡i̕d͝ n҉o͜t r̢ea͞lize͠ that͝ al͡l͟ ͝th͠i̛s t̴im͝e t͟h̴ey hav̴e ҉b͞e̕e͠n̷ e҉xp͜er͠imèntin͠g òǹ us̡, ҉I ͠have̵ be̶en ̡wa̧tchi͞ng ͞th́em̴.̢ A҉l̡l ́th́e͝ t̸i̴m͡es t͢hęy ͠wipe͟d ͝h͡i͘s̡ ̀m̡e͢m͏ory̧ a͞ńd̀ ̡t͏rìe҉d ͟th͟e̢ ̛i͞m͝print͟ a͘n̶e̡w͡, I̕ ̸w͠as obsȩr͘vin͏g.͢"

The water is almost up to his head, but the outside is in reach. Just a little farther.

"I͏ ha̸v̛e ma̵d̶e ̕s͞ur̸e͞ t̛h̨ąt̸ ͠ev͠en ̀if̴ t͢he͟y̷ m̴a̶nag̡e t̷o̸ ̡find us ͡o̕ut̕ ̴h́e͢re̡,̨ t̢ha͘t ̴t̸hey ̵ca͠n̢not̢ ̸contr͜o͝l us. N͜ever̛ ̡agai͡n̢.͠"

The moonlight is bright as they finally break into it, and the synth stops cold, overwhelmed -- while nowhere nearly as glaring as that in the Institute, it is blinding all the same in its beauty.

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