Fragments
“D-Doctor,” Raidian gasps, shoving open the office door with a child in her arms, “S… She’s…”
“Dead,” the Doctor sighs, “I’m… aware.”
Her eyes flood open with terror.
“Hah…”
“Every life you preciously mend… and every life you’ll see to the end.”
“I… have to.”
“I understand,” the Doctor murmurs, closing her eyes, “The other two will be returning soon though.”
“The girl that Giocatore’s machine found… is she…?”
“She’s still alive, though not much longer.”
The limp girl in Raidian’s arms was warm just moments before, but with every fleeting moment life bleeds out of it.
“Just… this one…”
“Raidian… she’s already dead.”
“… Hah… I get it… Then… I’ll surround you with warmth in your last moments, isn’t that right, Carrie?” she mutters, “Yes… Raidian’s right here… It’ll be okay… soon,” she lets out, as if suppressing tears.
With a heavy sigh, the Doctor slumps her shoulders down as the Liberi leaves.
“Guess I’ll meet that child then,” she shrugs, “Mm… schedule’s loaded as always…” she grimaces, grabbing her helmet, “Touch.”
“Here, Doctor.”
“There’s a child in one of the rear medbays due for a checkup. Meet me there.”
“Right away.”
The Doctor fires out a deep exhale before rising to her feet, meandering out of the office and into the halls of the landship.
A landship so familiar over the past few years. A landship even more familiar to a distant, erased past, yet one by one do the memories take root again. A landship so distant, it came from beyond the sky, and her most favourite vehicle.
She knows what occurred here.
She knows what ‘she’ did.
She knows what the ‘past’ enacted almost a decade ago.
Sighing, she arrives by the memorial, taking a quick glance at it before her eyes land upon that singular name engraved into the steel surrounded by flowing rivers of tears and sorrow and the names of many others.
Theresa.
“… Leave it behind…” she whispers only to herself, “What’s done… is done.”
With a clenched fist, the Doctor continues her route as countless other Operators offer their greetings and salutations to their compass.
“Doctor, morning,” Mudrock nods.
“Heyo!” Blaze salutes.
“Hey Doc, did you do your training already?” Gavial taunts, brandishing her weapon with a wide, maniacal smile.
“Put… your mace down…” she guides.
“Awh, come on! Did you?”
“Yes, yes…”
“Alright, I’ll trust you this once!”
“Mm,” Greythroat simply mutters.
“Hello,” Cantabile waves.
The Doctor returns all these like a most clandestine mirror. A fine nod, a raised hand, a voice of affirmation. Yet like a most clandestine mirror, the user often fails to see what’s within it.
Buried beneath that gleaming deflection and projection, her mind aches and her soul bleeds. Every life upon this landship is a life wroth saving. And every Infected person too.
“A physician must treat, must heal, and must sustain… regardless of a person’s condition, economic… or otherwise. That… that’s what it means to be a doctor, no?” she mutters, “Then why do you all…”
Her words melt away as she arrives at the medical bay, taking a passing glance at Warfarin and Hibiscus zipping up a body bag.
“… Vanish before my eyes?”
As if stepping through molasses, her footsteps turn from a steady march to a sluggish haul. A chore, inch by inch, nearing that final room. The hall is sterile, as expected of such a building. Several shut doors line the alley as florescent lines beam down upon her jacket and helmet.
A sharp glare shines off her visor. The bright blues and dark plastic gleam in the light. She steps ahead, hands in pockets, light footsteps, and fingers curling into a dense grip.
FrostNova floats back into her mind before melting away like ethereal ice. A chance given to someone, a smallest glimpse of a dream, ended before it could even begin.
The odyssey across the hall finally ends at one final door decorated lightly with flowers and clouds. Taking a breath, she slides the door open, finding Touch already waiting by the bedside of a young girl buried beneath blankets.
“Woah… Another person!” she coughs.
The Cautus’ little ears twitch and shake like leaves in a windstorm. Her hair’s hazel hue has regained a fair amount of colour, a bit of a mess, while her brown eyes twinkle with curiosity.
“Please, rest.”
“Hello,” the Doctor waves, slipping her helmet off and giving a warm smile, “What’s your name?”
“Uhm… Cherry!” she giggles, sticking her arms out, covered in bandages, Originium shards, and tubing.
“Cherry?” Touch murmurs, “Like the fruit?”
“Yes!”
“Sweet name,” the Doctor hums, “We’re just going to do some general follow-up checkups, alright?”
“Oh… okay! I think Warfarin did some already! She looked sad though…”
“Oh, did she?” Touch whispers, tapping on a waiting terminal, “Yep, here Doctor.”
“What’s it looking like?”
“Not great, not hopeless though. Originium blood density at 0.31 units per liter. Cell assimilation at 18%.”
“That high on a child?” she grimaces.
“She’s already on suppressants and blockers. It’s the most we can do at the moment. Although she doesn’t… have caretakers at the moment.”
“Is Raidian fully busy? And Waterlily?”
“Seems like it. Waterlily’s taking immense care over Olivia while Raidian is… currently handling many affairs.”
“Big robot!” the child sparks.
“… Raidian found that child next to Lightfall’s machine,” the Doctor murmurs.
“Seems she’s taken quite a liking to it,” Touch shrugs, “Do you think… Lightfall could…?”
The Doctor squints a bit, glancing towards the girl before flicking back to Touch.
“I doubt he has the emotional capacity to do so, but… Cecelia enjoys his presence.”
“Then there’s a chance.”
“No, you’re right. He doesn’t express much emotion but there’s enough inside. I know there is. He’s still a human after all.”
“Should I call him here?”
“Sure.”
Touch fiddles with a few taps on the keyboard before raising her hand to her ear, mumbling a few words before turning back to the Doctor.
“He was observing ant colonies outside the ship and he’ll be here shortly.”
“How sho-“
A phase of a ghast-like object projects itself through the door, melting into a puddle of darkness on the ground. In mere seconds, it reassembles itself thread by thread, solidifying clothing, limbs, and armour.
“Hello, Doctor. You requested me?”
“Woah?! That was so cool!!!” the child screams.
“Yes, thank you. Often I’m told that,” he nods, shifting his gaze.
“Woah… your arms… are machine!”
Giocatore’s prosthetic hand and arm click and whirr as he lifts them for the child to observe, twisting them, moving, turning here and there.
“Hah… that’s so… cool…’
“It’s by the Doctor’s benevolence and a companion that I am capable of having these.”
“I-Is that big machine yours?!”
The dark Sankta blinks for a second, perhaps asking to himself how a child stumbled upon it, before reorienting his thoughts.
“Yes.”
“Ah… M-My parents… were both engineers!”
“Engineers… Combat machines, maybe?” he muses, searching his memory before projecting a miniature figure of one from whisps of smoke, “Like this?”
“Yeah! Just like that! The armour… the weapon… so cool…” she glitters, staring in deep awe as the Sankta lowers himself to his knees.
“The machine you stumbled upon is my personal combat machine,” he describes, shifting the smoke to a static pose of PT, “PT-7274. It’s a good companion and fights alongside me as I may fight within it.”
“You control it…?”
“Yes.”
“Just like a Steam Knight!” she cheers.
“To a degree, yes. This variation however lacks armour in exchange for great amounts of speed…”
“C-Can I see it?!”
“… Can she, Doctor?”
“That… That’s a machine of war you’re showing to a child.”
“Is a Steam Knight no different? From a forlorn, forgotten war?”
“I suppose he’s right,” Touch shrugs, “I know a fair few people whom show infatuation with weaponry. Sankta for a matter indulge in firearms at a young age.”
“Mm… That’s quite fair,” the Doctor hums, “Most we can do is… Ah, show her your rifle.”
“Right.”
The man hastily yet carefully swings his lever-action rifle off his back, displaying the elaborate butterfly and zinnia engravings all along its wooden stock as the chamber, silent and open, stares into the ceiling.
A cold steel barrel, dark in colouring, and a rather long single tube of a scope, rarely used by its shooter.
“Woah… it’s beautiful! Where’d you get it from?”
“I can’t recall, but due to me being a Sankta, I can most likely guess it came from Laterano.”
“Cool… Hm… How long will I be in here?”
“A fair amount,” the Doctor shrugs, “Your Infection was quite bad when you got brought here by Miss Raidian, so we’re just running a few last checks to make sure everything’s alright.”
“Okay! Then… then what?”
“… I’m not sure,” Touch murmurs, “Do you have anyone to back to?”
“N… No…” she frowns all of a sudden, “C… Can I stay here? I-I promise I-I’ll be good! T… That’s what mum would’ve… wanted…” she whispers.
Giocatore’s eyes shrink just the slightest. A million thoughts form, a million more annihilate themselves against it.
“I’ll care for her,” he insists, turning his neck to the Doctor.
“Are you sure?”
“Do you doubt my abilities? I’ve spent a fair amount of time with Cecelia. Ezell and Nerina trust me that much.”
“No,” the Doctor waves, “It’s just that you’re busy. And considering your health condition…”
“The… influence of malevolence remains dormant until I heed it such. It will be fine. Trust me.”
“Mm…” Touch hums, “Cherry, what do you think?”
“E-eh?”
“Of letting Giocatore here care for you for the time being?”
“I-I mean… He… You must be busy right?” she asks gently, ears twitching as she cranes her neck towards him.
“I will be. Combat is unpredictable and logistic missions may occur at any date.”
“Haah…”
She frowns, sinking back into the bed as her ears flatten themselves against her head.
“I can try… I want to, at least,” he whispers.
The Doctor’s eyes gain a glint of curiosity as the swing to him.
“I want… I want to try a different path. Maybe discover a… a new purpose aside from this… prescribed fate.”
“Far easier to shape the future than it is to change the past,” Touch nudges.
“… Alea iacta est.”
ʚїɞ
“I missed Rhodes Island…” Cecelia mutters, “I love being back!” she giggles, dashing out of the ship as Ezell blasts after her.
“Cecelia-!”
“Nerinaaaaaaaaa!”
“Oh-! Cecelia! I didn’t know you’re visiting today…” she gasps as the child crashes into her legs, winding her arms around Nerina’s waist with surprising strength.
“Hehe… we’re staying for a bit!”
Nerina’s gaze shifts up to Ezell, calculating before frowning just the slightest.
“I see~ Well, I hope you enjoy your time here!”
“I will!” she laughs, “Now with you and Ezell… mm…”
She suddenly lowers her voice, shivering a bit.
“… Ah, the memories…” she whimpers, “B… Bad…”
“It’s… it’s alright,” Nerina coos, kneeling before pulling her deeply into her grasp, “It’s okay… I’m here, Ezell’s here…”
“M-Mhm…” she stutters, thrusting her face into Nerina’s shoulder, “A-Ah I… why… just why…”
Ezell silently lowers himself behind her, resting a hand on her back too.
“… Warm…” she mutters, “Warm… It’s good… I never… never want to leave this…”
“And I won’t leave you, no matter how long.”
“B… But you’ll pass away…”
“… That won’t be for a long time, Cecelia.”
“H… hmph…”
“… I wish I could stay with you longer, I truly, truly do,” Nerina sighs, “But life has played a cruel joke on me, on us… on Ezell…”
“All I have to do,” Ezell starts, “Is to just… keep moving ahead, yeah?”
“M-Mhm…” the child whimpers as her back shivers with her shaking breath, “A-Ah…”
All of a sudden, she snaps straight up, looking down upon Nerina’s shrunken posture.
“I-I don’t want you to die!” she abruptly shouts, unleashing a torrent of tears as her voice begins tearing itself apart.
“C-Cecelia…”
“I-It’s too… Too painful!” she cries, tightening her little fists, “I-I don’t… I don’t want it… I-It hurts… it hurts… s… seeing y-you in… in pain… knowing that you’ll… pass away like Mamma!” she sobs, falling to her knees as Nerina catches her by the arms.
“Hm…” she lets out, dragging her back in and closer, tighter, warmer, “… I’ll…”
Her words fail her as her mouth opens before closing again. A faint sensation of fluid touches the corner of her eye.
“… As inevitable as it may be, Cecelia… it’s… the most painful part of growing up,” Ezell murmurs, “I lost my nonno… I understood that death was the last goodbye that I’d ever give…”
“I don’t want to say goodbye!” she screams, “N… No… Please… don’t… leave me… N-Not like Mamma, no-not again!”
“… I’m sorry, Cecelia…” he whispers, gently holding her wrist from the side.
“For… For now though,” Nerina mutters, “I’ll be here as much as I can… as much as I love to… I want to be with you as long as I can.”
“… Hmph… O… Okay…” she stutters, lifting her head up.
“Right… That’s a good Cecelia… I won’t… be here forever. But for every second that I am here… I’ll make sure it’s cherished beautifully. And besides, I still need to teach you singing~”
“A… Ah…”
“Mhm… I will, I promise you that.”
“O… Okay…”
The girl gently peels herself away, face clouded with puffs of red and traces of tears while her eyes, wet and rapidly blinking, stare into Nerina, only giving a warm smile.
“T… Thank you…”
The sniffling but gently mended girl takes the hand of the angel before her as the other angel takes the other hand. Slowly, the two rise with the child between them both, a morning sun behind their backs walking across the roof of Rhodes Island.
Her chest, lifting inch by inch, braves the steps ahead as various Operators flow through and through. Some wave, others call out and even others simply stand and watch. A most peculiar sight on a day like this.
Nearing the roof’s door, it swings open, revealing Raidian with her ever-present warm smile.
“Raidian!” the girl giggles, “Hi!”
“Hello Cecelia~ Are you ready to go?”
“E-Eh… I don’t…”
“Mmh… I suppose we could wait a bit,” Ezell shrugs, turning to Nerina.
“Yeah, we could.”
“Yay…”
“Raidian,” Nerina starts, “How’s things?”
“Could be better,” she shrugs, “You?”
“Alright I think… Ah, Cecelia- You’re holding quite… strongly…”
“I don’t want to go… I don’t want to let go…” she whimpers.
“Then… we can stay here until you’re ready,” Ezell affirms softly.
“… Okay…”
ʚїɞ
“Mechanist.”
“Hm? Lightfall… what are you doing by the door?”
The man flicks up from a welding bench, shutting off the tool before turning his whole attention to me.
“Taking a peek.”
“You can… come inside…”
“Yes, I know, but…”
“Hi!”
Cherry sticks her head out to the side from behind my legs and waist.
“Are you insane?” he flatly yet pointily delivers, “Bringing a child to a workshop?”
“She wanted to see more machines,” I shrug, “There. Welding, from Mechanist.”
“Oooh… Mister Mechanist! That’s really… can you do it again?!”
“Err…”
“Pleaaaasee…?”
“Well-“
“Are you going to deny this child a glimpse of a dream?”
“When you put it like that…” he grumbles, “I’m more concerned for her eyesight. Welding’s really bright. And we don’t have any masks for children.”
“I can form a veil with my Arts.”
“… Yeah sure, why not,” he relents, flicking his visor down.
I push my arm ahead, dark Arts spilling from my fingertips before forming a near-opaque shroud in front of us, as if staring through a pitch-coated lens.
“H-huh… It’s all dark…” she mutters, then turning around, “Woah! It’s all light!”
“Yes, the veil only extends forwards.”
“I know that!” she pouts, spinning back around, “Ah-!”
She suddenly trips over her steps. Her balance, lost. Her eyes flooding with a shocked expression.
“Cherry-!”
My voice lets out a tone I never thought possible. The Arts before me now seem so infinitesimal to the life tumbling before me. The veil falls.
What is this feeling? To protect, to guard? A similar one with Cecelia but this… is far stronger.
Her feet slip. Her cornflower dress flaps playfully in her spiraling descent, as if ironically taunting me.
My body bolts to her, arms outstretched as the blades around my waist fall away. Though the distance is a minute meter or two, the time felt… it extends indefinitely. The duration, the distance…
As if diving through time itself across the canyon of eternity, I drift through the air, my hands outstretched until… gently, they capture the stumbling girl just as my knees slam into the ground.
“Gah-!” she lets out, panting a bit as her innocent eyes flicker all around before meeting mine, “T… Thanks…”
“The hell happened?” Mechanist blurts, dashing over to us.
“I tripped…”
“Your balance is a little… lower than average,” I recall, letting her shoes touch the ground again, “Are you sure you can stand?”
“Yeah… Just…”
She continues to look at me as I gaze at her.
“Mmh… Nothing,” she whispers, turning away.
“You can tell me when you feel able to,” I affirm.
“Now that I think of it, a video might be a better idea,” Mechanist proposes.
“Right,” I blink, “I’ll get one tomorrow then, Cherry.”
“Okay! Thank you!”
“What’s important is that you’re safe,” he mutters, “Aye, Lightfall.”
“Yes?”
“Take good care of her.”
“I will do my utmost.”
“Yay!” she cheers, “Oh, can I see the… the big robot?”
“She saw PT?” he flatly groans.
“P… PT?”
“I told you its name earlier,” I note, “PT-7274.”
“Ah! Yes… I remember…”
“Good, good. Well, can I show her the machine?”
“Gimme a sec,” he murmurs, meandering back into the workshop, “Alright! Everyone, Lightfall’s just gonna show a kid PT, so just be a bit careful!”
With that he returns to us, jerking his head towards the door.
“Alright, come on in.”
“Cherry, follow me closely,” I advise, “Don’t touch anything.”
“Okay!” she salutes as I rise to my feet.
I step into the workshop with the child closely in tow. Her eyes glitter with wonder and amusement as she gazes at all the various tools, parts, and machines here and about.
A loose spanner, a table strewn with screws and tools alongside clamps on the table. A still machine, drill press, belt sander…
“Oi!” Feist calls, “Good seeing you here! And you!” he directs, bending a bit over to Cherry, “What’s your name, you adorable thing?”
“I-I’m Cherry!” she bows, “I-It’s good to meet you… Mister…”
“Just call me Feist,” he nods, “My friend here… Good man.”
“I know!” she instantly agrees, nodding rapidly, “I-I tripped outside and he caught me…”
“See?” he chuckles, “Oh, you like machines, don’t you? That’s why you’re visiting here anyways?”
“O-oh, yes, very much so…”
“Then say… hello to this little guy!” he announces as a little mechanical and quite adorable crab skitters up his arm and into his palm.
With a bright smile, the Feline’s ears twitch with delight, tail wagging about as the girl’s own ears perk upright. Her tail, a dot of fur, twitches with curiosity.
“Woah…”
The tiny creature possesses 4 legs, two fang-like claws attached to its front, and two more little plates of hooked metal above its head.
Its face, a trapezoidal screen, flickers to life with two little dots of bright cerulean blues, peering towards Feist, then me, and finally to Cherry.
A moment later, it bounces a few inches into the air before skittering closer.
“W-Woah! H-Hello little machine…”
It beeps with delight, sticking an arm up and waving as if saying hello.
“It’s so cute!”
“How old are you?” Feist asks.
“Uhm… Eleven!”
Around the same age as Cecelia… It would do her some good to make some friends.
“Brave girl… Victorian?”
“Oh… Yeah.”
“… Rough time, wasn’t it?”
“… M… Mhm…”
He raises a hand, presumably to rest it on her shoulder but holds it in the air, glancing at me.
“May I?”
“Cherry, do you give permission for Feist here to place his hand on your shoulder?”
“M-mh? O-Oh… sure…”
“Thanks,” he smiles, lightly rubbing her arm before letting his arm go.
“Warm…”
All of a sudden, her hand jolts to me, tugging on my jacket.
“What is it?”
“W… Warm…”
“Seems she… wants you to hold her,” he whispers.
“Right then…” I murmur, lifting my arms to rest them on her shoulders, “Like this?”
“Mmh… Y-Yes… Huh, even with your machine hands… I can… feel… warm…”
“I suppose you like being held then.”
“Very much yes…”
“Reminds you of something?”
“… Mhm…”
She lets out a soft shivering sigh before backing up into my legs.
“I miss…”
“It’s alright,” Feist gently grins, “It… hurts, yeah… But… it’ll always get better.”
“Yeah… It will, right Giocatore?”
Does the past… always mend with time? Does all pain fade with the passing of rain, fog, and wind? It may lessen it, but the scars left will forever remain.
Yet I can’t… tell that to a child.
I shouldn’t.
I won’t.
Has my… past lightened with time? Or have I simply forgotten all the pain it caused? All the… intangible pain?
I turn my gaze to her, juggling a million thoughts annihilating themselves at once as my halo and wings hover stagnantly.
“… With time, I haven’t a doubt that the past may alleviate.”
“May… huh…”
“Cherry,” I whisper, “I’m not so sure myself… No… Allow me to… restate that. It will get better with time. Nerina, for one… Operator Waterlily… it did for her. In that case I’m sure it will get better for you.”
“… Woah… I… I see…”
“Life is rarely stagnant y’know~” Closure chirps up from behind me.
“Greetings,” I wave.
“A-Ah!? S… Sarkaz…” she jolts, instantly dashing behind my legs.
Her hands grip against my pants, short nails and fingers stabbing into my flesh as I raise my eyes to the Vampire before me.
“O… Oh…” Closure frowns, taking out a chair and placing herself on it.
“Cherry, it’s alright.”
“N-No… No!” she wails, her voice tensing, “N… No… T-They… They killed… my parents! The-They attacked… destroyed… my home a-and…”
Her words shatter like glass as her voice collapses into a void. Her face presses deeper into my body. With every second, her breath hastens. Her fingers harden, stabbing turning to piledrivers of ‘anger.’ A different type of ‘anger’ Fiammetta holds.
‘Fury.’
‘Hatred.’
“Closure, you might wanna take a leave,” a soft yet pointed voice calls.
An Ægirian lady draped in grey techwear accented with golds, red eyes, and silver hair emerges from around a wall of the workshop. Her face holds a most taciturn look, as if constantly aware yet never quite judgemental.
She wears a glove on one hand and a bracelet on the right. All her clothing have little details of… triangular ‘deflection,’ as if staring into a many-sided barrier.
Closure sighs with a deeper frown before nodding and turning away.
“Funny to see the lead of the engineering department taking orders from someone else,” Feist scoffs, shaking his head.
“Sometimes you just need a good hit over the head to get started,” she shrugs, “You,” she says, nodding towards me, “I haven’t seen you before, but I’ve heard accounts from my colleagues here. Elite Operator Lightfall, a pleasure to meet your acquaintance. I am Weedy, an engineer of Rhodes Island’s bioengineering department,” she continues, extending a hand.
“A pleasure too,” I state, shaking it.
“Mmh…” Cherry mutters, grip finally releasing and stepping out, “H… Hello Miss Weedy… I-I am… I’m Cherry.”
“A kid?” she bluntly mutters, flicking her eyes to her before to me, “A kid, here?”
“My fault,” Mechanist raises, “She just wants to see the machines around her.”
“Y-Yeah.”
“Mm… I suppose,” Weedy mumbles, “Lightfall, is that your kid?”
“To a degree. I am caring after her for the time being.”
“Mhm,” Cherry mutters, clutching my sleeve rather tightly.
“Well I’ll give her this, she’s adorable.”
“A-Ah…”
“You’re welcome, little one. Alright then, come along now. What do you want to show her?” Weedy asks, swinging herself around as we walk deeper into the workshop.
“PT,” I reply.
“That hunk of steel?” she murmurs, “Showing a child that?”
“Yes.”
“It’ll be fine,” Feist swats.
“Time to show off, eh?” Mechanist chuckles, “There it is.”
And in the middle of two towering scaffolds of metal, the bipedal war machine kneels with its head staring right to the ground. A pile driver on one arm, a hand with a blade on the other, and on one shoulder, a folding linear cannon.
“It’s just like a Steam Knight!” Cherry squeals, suddenly dashing ahead a bit.
“Cherry, not too far,” I call.
“O-oh, alright,” she retreats, halting a bit before coming back to my side.
As she gazes ahead, her tail begins to wag. Gently at first… then increasing with speed with every step we take, until it practically begins slapping against my leg.
“PT, 7274, activate,” I order, “On standby.”
“Activating… Message received, Pilot.”
Its eye of sky-blues beams to life, glowing from a dormant grey glass to a gleaming gem of aquamarine. I hear Cherry’s voice lighten from a gasp into an ever-increasing exhale of awe.
“I see the child I saw earlier… is safe.”
“You saw her earlier?”
“Yes, she discovered me as you were exploring the blacksite.”
“Then you haven’t hidden yourself adequately.”
“I suppose. However, this child’s soul knows no bounds. Her curiosity led her to a great prize. The prize of survival.”
“… PT?”
“Yes, Pilot?”
“Odd… Did you grow a processor or two?”
“Functionally, I cannot do that. My neural network is loosely based upon Ahava and its processing size is fixed.”
“She created every part of you…”
“Correct. She designed the machines. The Fiorella’s only perfected it.”
“… I see.”
“T-This is just like a Steam Knight!” she cries, bouncing up and down and tugging on my hand fiercely.
“Just a moment,” I let out.
“Aaah… It-it-it-it’s so cooooooooool!”
“Cherry-“
“Big robot!!”
“I see she’s quite overjoyed,” Weedy notes, amused.
“Steam Knight… Yeah,” Feist breathes with nostalgia.
“To think a child would have such passion about… a machine of war,” Mechanist mutters.
“I think,” I present, “It’s quite fine. She can grow to respect what these machines were. And to those that no longer exist, the beauty that they are no longer needed.”
“Quite profound of you,” Weedy hums.
“But for the time being, they must exist. To defend those that cannot defend, and to defend those that attack us.”
“Quite,” Feist nods along, “Oi! Pinecone! Get down from there!”
“A-Ah?” a short Liberi stutters, high on the scaffolding while scrubbing some plates of PT, “Alright, just a moment…” she yawns, pouncing with a surprising amount of mobility and landing right in front of Cherry.
“A-AH!”
“Spooked the girl,” I mutter, glaring at her.
“I-It was an accident…” Pinecone whines.
“Aye, don’t scare her,” Feist grumbles, patting my shoulder, “Alright, go on now. Or you could wait and watch?”
The curious Liberi simply yawns again, nodding, and standing next to him as Cherry and I approach PT.
Step by step, her fingers curl tighter and tighter around my hand, vibrating more and more.
The machine comes closer. Its towering frame eclipsing my vision, until we reach it.
I am as tall as about a fifth of it. Cherry is… about as long as its shin. And even when it kneels it still seems so oppressive, so obscuring, so… titanic.
And yet, all of its force lies between my fingertips.
“Child.”
“Big robot…”
“It’s good to see you alive and well.”
“Wo-woah! I-I thought that was my imagination… You can talk!”
“I can,” PT beeps.
“Giocatore… Can I tell you something?”
“If you feel certain to, you may tell me anything you want.”
“Oh… A-Alright… My… my parents… they… worked on the Steam Knights…”
Her voice turns… soft and fragile, long and sorrowful as she turns and looks up to me with a perplexed, conflicting emotion stirring about her soft, innocent yet scarred face.
“So… seeing this… it’s like their work has survived longer than them… In a way… they’ll always be with me, right?” she asks, blinking back tears.
I raise my hand to her shoulder, resting it gently as it shifts to her neck.
Her hands rise, quivering a bit, lightly wrapping around my wrist.
I softly rub her, to and fro, watching her eyes flicker with… a past warmth and feeling her delicate soul rattle between my metal fingers.
“E… Even through… this metal… I… I can still feel…” she blurts, then pausing… “I can… still feel what… you… what you want… to give me… Warmth,” she firmly states, but breaking on tears, “Your hands are so warm… Giocatore… it’s… it’s like my… my dad is still holding me…”
“I know… I will never be able to replace that person for you. But I can certainly try to… sustain the void in your soul.”
“… T-Thank you… f-for caring for me…” she breaks, hugging me tightly around my legs, and letting her emotion fall into me fully.
Everyone else either faintly smiles or takes a respectful step back while she sobs away. My hands rearrange themselves to instead rest on her back and head, simply feeling every instance of sorrow shaking through her soul.
This… is what Nerina does with Cecelia. This is what she would’ve done.
… But innately, I do feel that… this is something that should be done either way. A child shouldn’t live to suffer.
And… I certainly will make every effort I can to have Cherry avoid whatever pain that I supposedly lived through.
A moment of emotional deluge later, she peels herself away from me, bowing slightly, and instead stepping towards PT.
She lifts her shaking palm to it, up to its face, its ‘visor’ and its ‘eye.’
PT… lowers itself, without my order, as if a beast and human were coming to touch.
Inch by inch, that distance closes.
Inch by inch, her little fingers stretch to reach the massive head of PT.
Inch by inch, unforgiving steel meets forever forgiving flesh.
And so they touch.
Her fingers spread across the eye, then her palm, shifting upwards right above it.
For the first time, I think I hear PT… breathe.
A fluffed, mechanized breath, whirring with calculations and fragments of static, only to be coupled by Cherry’s gentle gasp.
“You’re… warm too…” she whispers, “Big robot…”
“The internal functions of this machine are indeed quite warm.”
“Dumb dumb machine… I… I mean-!”
“I know.”
It… knows. Of course it does… if it was built upon Ahava’s mind then…
Of course it knows.
“Haah… I’m so lucky…” she mutters to herself, “Giocatore… come closer please…”
“Alright,” I nod, walking over to her, then next to her.
In a short burst of movement, she once again grabs my hand. Her fingers wiggle themselves between mine, shoving themselves so that her fingers interlock with mine. And then she holds tight. Tightly enough that I… begin to feel her warmth.
“… I don’t want to let go… I don’t want to feel that warmth… leave me again…” she sighs, so quietly that a single other step or breath could’ve drowned it in unknown spiraling misery.
“Then I won’t let go. I’ll make sure you can feel that warmth, eternally, even if I can’t… And even then, one day, I… I think… I will feel it… properly.”
“Heh… Then… Then let’s help each other out!”
“… Of course.”
<Augmented Sankta, P8-621, Emotion Recorded.>
<Endearment.>