hadriel_logs | he was down on the floor with his lips to a glass

Who: Maketh Tua and open
What: Aftermath of the doubles event.
Where: Apartments, Guard HQ
When: 26th and onward
Warnings: Alcoholism, depression, mentions of death and torture, probably swearing. I will match format.

Apartment

[Stars, she's tired. All the time now. Ever since Henry took her home from Hope's temple, she's been drawn to her bed and its blankets, a refuge that she can hide in and forget everything else. Anyone who knows Maketh will have noticed a change in her routine. She's sleeping almost the entire day, getting up only to drink or vomit from the drinking. If she goes out at all, it's in the middle of the night, a move engineered to let her avoid as many people as possible.

The best way to get in touch is to bang on her door, loud enough that she can't ignore it.]

Guard HQ

[Quietly, Maketh has changed all of her shifts to avoid the most people possible. So while she's still performing her duties, she's doing them out of sight and largely around two in the morning. If you've got insomnia and happen to wander in at odd hours, you might see her rewriting damaged reports, or trying to clean the mess off the floor.

Often she keeps a bottle of whiskey on her desk. Not to drink - not when she's working - but as a taunt. She often stares at it.]

Around the city

[By choice Maketh has turned into something of a nocturnal creature, rarely leaving the apartment - or indeed the room - during the day. But at night she goes out, either to check things with the guard or just to wander. Sometimes she goes to the river and tries to imagine what lives at the bottom. Either way she's alone.]

Wildcard

[Dealer's choice. Hit me.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"I am Turing." (A name she almost certainly won't recognize, for which they are relieved. Their sudden fame at home was ...stressful, to say the least.)

"May I ask for your name?"

Hello, then.

[Briefly, she wonders if Turning does gender or not. Not all of the droids do. Some are like Nick, alive enough that they might as well have blood instead of circuits and steel. Others are a touch stranger.]

You must have come recently. Quite the introduction, as these things go.

(Apparently she doesn't want to introduce herself, then. Turing doesn't comment further.)

"You are correct." (Turing is definitely one of the stranger ones, though that doesn't make them any less alive. They're agender, though they don't particularly care how other people refer to them.)

"Though I seem to have been relatively fortunate."

[Maketh offers Turning a faint smile. The luck won't last. It never does in this place. Then she blinks.]

Ah. I'm forgetting my manners. My name is Maketh.

(The little robot smiles back at her. Their creator sure put a lot of effort into making them as convincing and endearing as possible.)

"I wasn't going to say anything, but... it's nice to meet you, Maketh!"

[Maketh offers a faint smile in return. It's occurred to her that the robotics of other worlds are quite different from her own. They seem somehow more than coded behaviors and protocols, forever tangling themselves in their own mistakes. Her world, Maketh is quite sure, could never have made anything like Rey or Nick Valentine. Or if it had, the Empire would have destroyed them immediately.

It's a sobering thought, though not one she wishes to dwell on.]

Thank you. That's kind of you to say.

(Well, it's a good thing the empire isn't a thing here then, isn't it?

They continue to smile at Maketh. It's always nice meeting new people!)

"You're welcome."

(They turn to look at the river again, thoughtful.)

"I wish I had my art supplies..." (They appear to be talking more to themselves now.)

You...make things?

[That's interesting. Maketh has no talent for such things, but she admires those who do. Anything she's designed has either been a weapon or a means of defending against one.]

"Yes! Specifically, I paint."

(And they love talking about it, too. The excitement is obvious in their voice.)

[Maketh blinks. In another moment she might smile, though tonight finds herself too tired to force the expression.]

Oh. That's impressive.

[She hesitates.]

Would you...describe some of it for me? Please?

(Though one might not expect it, and would perhaps even hope it wasn’t the case, Turing understands that soul weary exhaustion. Right now though, she’s asking about their art, and they are way more preoccupied with that.)

“Of course!” (And out comes a happy little heart face.

…Even if they’re not entirely sure where to start. They look away for a moment, a little awkward and a lot thoughtful.)

“I became interested in painting through Bob Ross’ The Joy of Painting.” (Not quite what she’d asked for, but it was important to know the history, or so they thought.) “My creator originally limited my media exposure to public access television, and his show was what I gravitated to…” (And they’d go on, talking about painting landscapes, the beauty of the trees and the way the leaves make such interesting textures, the techniques used to paint them. Of desiring to be more than just a machine replicating what they saw, and moving to more abstract painting as a form of self-expression. Their preference for bold, precise shapes in contrast to the whirlwind chaos that was common in their chosen style…)

(They sure do like to talk, don’t they?)

[Maketh tips her head back and just listens. Some of the words slip but the meaning stays. She's never been able to make beautiful things. She tried once, though it could be done through order and obedience, chaos controlled on a grand scale, but that hadn't been anything. Just foolishness. Now she builds weapons for not-Jedi and designs bombs in secret, the designs hidden away in the walls of her bedroom. Nothing at all like the things Turning describes.

So it goes. This is just what they are.

Maketh closes her eyes. Despite everything, she smiles just a little.]

Thank you.

(They smile back.)

"You're welcome!" (What's the point of art if it doesn't bring people joy? Admittedly, this was a rather odd way to do it...)

[Maketh offers a little smile.]

If you make any here, I would like to see it.

(It's hard for them to smile more than they're already doing, but they're clearly overjoyed at the prospect.)

I'd like that. (Despite all the people who were interested, at home they never really got to show their paintings off much at all.)

[What a strange creature. Maketh offers them a faint smile. It's not much, but it's what she can offer.]

You are kind. I am sorry you were brought here.

(Strange indeed, but is anything normal here?)

(Their smile fades a bit at the thought of this place and what it does to people, though they don't seem too upset.)

"Thanks. Compassion is a quality possessed by most people I admire."

(It's a trait they work on cultivating in themselves, in addition to coming naturally.)

Something you seek to emulate?

[It's admirable either way, she supposes.]

"Yes. It is important to me."

(It's hard to overstate how important. Probably the only things they put a similar amount of effort into are art and appearing intelligent.)

[Maketh offers him a faint smile.]

Then I wish you luck in that. There are worse things to strive for.

(The little robot nods.)

Thanks.

he was down on the floor with his lips to a glass

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