Some Reassembly Required

[rekindledtitan]

There’s an open, grassy area on the edge of the Wilds, some distance from the most popular Nexus parks where people are enjoying their picnics and centaur polo and so forth. It’s a good place to go if you want slightly more peace and quiet - or in Blaze’s case, a good open space in which to make a lot of noise. The robot soldier has a few small crates out on the grass. One of them she’s sitting on; the others are being used as tables which hold a small array of tools and components and blocks of metal. She’s working on modifying a pair of heavy armored boots much like the pair she’s wearing, refitting the soles and reinforcing their structure. Her Ghost hovers beside her, inspecting a blueprint spread out atop one of the boxes. The little bot is spinning his pointy shell back and forth as if concerned, but Blaze pays him no heed.

“So,” she says, speaking up while she works. “People change. Some of us change more than others. Sometimes we don’t notice how it happens. Sometimes,” she yanks out a component and chucks it down beside her, “we don’t get a say. So what part of yourself would you want make sure you held on to? What’s the part you’d want to be remembered?” She pauses, then looks up at the nearest people. “And, hey, anyone got some spare explosives?"

Comments

[not_the_question]

The Doctor was looking for some place less populated, because well, he just needed time to think today. He's still using a cane - his legs have been weak recently, which has annoyed him since he doesn't know if it's that this place is holding off his regeneration or some other, more pressing reason.

He watches her as she works on her boots and chuckles softly as a piece is chucked next to her. But it's her question more than anything that stops him in his tracks.

"That's a hell of a question to ask me right now."

He looks around and finds a crate and sits down. He rests both hands atop his cane and rests his chin on the formed platform.

"You'd think after doing this eleven times, I'd know. But I really don't and... a part of it is always scary. I think because I want to hold onto some part of myself. This version of me..."

He's started in the middle. Which he feels is appropriate since questions in the Nexus seem to start in the middle of other people's thoughts.

[fiveofnone]

Blaze and Ghost are not the only robots in this grassy part of the Wilds. There's also a Cylon walking along, a folded blanket tucked under his arm and a small pig-like creature following at his heels. When he sees Blaze, he changes direction to head towards her.

"Sorry," he says in regards to her question about explosives. "I'm fresh out." He smiles briefly, looking more relaxed than the last time they spoke.

As for her more philosophical pondering, he frowns thoughtfully. "No matter what, I'd want to keep the part of me that fell in love with Adia. That wasn't something that was programmed into me or tricked into me with false memories. It's the part..." He trails off, then sighs and rolls his shoulders. Might as well be honest. "It's the emotion my model had the most trouble with. So the fact that I love her... well, it probably says more about her than me, but that's the part I hold onto, no matter what else changes."

[nochtann_an_fhirinne]

Of all the things in this place an omnic is possibly one of the most familiar sights to come across. She hadn't intended on ending up surrounded by all this greenery but now that she's here Moira finds herself gravitating towards the vaguely conventional sight.

Watching Blaze pick apart pieces of scrap, Moira waits with her hands folded neatly behind her straight back until the omnic is finished speaking. "I'm not in the habit of keeping explosives on my person. In regards to your question, however, I would want to be remembered for my unwavering dedication to discovering the secrets of human evolution. If I had to choose only one thing to keep ahold of it would be that."

[upperfixer]

"No. But give me two days and I can get that for you."

Fairfax stands there looking - if not well, then much better. Although to be fair, any state other than dead would be an improvement over the last time they had met. He shifts uneasily in his now-cleaned uniform, slightly uncomfortable but trying not to show it. Christ, Fairfax. See somebody who saved your life the last time you met, and the first thing you say is that?

"Blowing ssomething up?" he asks, somewhat half-heartedly, as if it was an obligation to hope the answer wasn't people.

[houmaprotector]

This is a super loaded question. Alec is studying the grass, talking to it. He's been watching the exchange for awhile. The 8 and a half foot tall plant creature has changed.

He stares at his hands and remembers dying. Twice.

"...My humanity."

The age old question. A few flowers grow at his feet as he sits, crosslegged, before staring at them a little sadly.

[magnetite_plz]

Change can be a tricky thing for a creature who is genetically identical to every one of her sisters. By her very nature she is a recipe. A copy from which anyone with the right magical aptitude could summon another one of her sisters and get virtually the same thing. A bound servant of Justice looking for a cause to serve.

And yet.

Angel catches the tossed component with practiced ease. Her eyes uncovered. Her hands unbound. Where every one of her sisters is tied--Angel is free. She is different from them. Changed. Apart and isolated. There was a time she felt it made her so very much alone.

"What part of myself...? Curious. I have no name, no defining features compared to my sisters. The only thing that sets me apart would be my contract, Blaze. Even if I did not remember, I would like that to remain." Something she could dedicate herself to even if she forgot who Blaze or herself were. Even if she were to lose all memory she would still fundamentally be the same because of her nature. Surely she would learn to appreciate Blaze all over again.

The second question, however...

"I only brought two grenades. Would you like them?" Her tactical gear has come a long way from the haggardly stitched tabard Blaze had fashioned a dress for her out of so long ago. Angel still favors golds and whites where she can but more important is making sure she matches her Mistress.

[jarheadclan]

Man, no matter how many times he comes here, the fact that there are robot people never stops being cool to Jake. It's like one of those old scifi movies in real life. (Not that the irony of this thought really occurs to him - it feels like a lifetime ago that he hopped a spaceship to another planet. And in a way, it is.)

It's a damn good question, one that gets the Na'vi's attention even more than the whole robot thing. "Personally, I'm hoping folks remember me fixin' my mistakes instead of just me making them in the first place," he answers. "That, and my choice to be part of the People instead of staying just another alien."

The second part of the question prompts a momentary flash of sharp white teeth behind blue lips, and he makes a show of patting himself down, his scant native attire leaving few spots for strategic concealment of explosives. "Sorry, left my grenades in my other loincloth." Joke aside, though. "What d'ya need 'em for?"