2020-10-26: Forgotten Friendship

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  • Log: Forgotten Friendship
  • Cast: Zhang Xiumei, Azoth
  • Where: Bikanel Island
  • Date: October 26, 2020
  • Summary: Azoth unexpectedly meets an old friend from the past... but can't remember him. Even so, he clings to the kinship and makes a promise he knows he can't keep.

<Pose Tracker> Zhang Xiumei has posed.

The Al Bhed have started to scout out Bikanel Island again. They haven't quite returned to Home, yet, but there have been some tentative efforts to see what can be reclaimed. The Fahrenheit isn't a home forever. ARMS is helping with this, along with other Drifters; today, a small mission is out in Bikanel Island's desert, to make a listening post.

Zhang Xiumei is one of those people.

She doesn't look like a clerk, today. Clad in an armored black bodysuit, with white-and-green armor, she looks ready for a fight. The armor looks halfway between the armor of two Zeboim Federation Reploids; like a mismatch of them. Her eyes, a glowing bright green, look around the horizon.

In the distance, the Al Bhed are setting up a machina.

Her job is to look for fiends. She looks a little bored with it; no weapons are out, but they can be in an instant. She peers off at some movement, on the neighboring dune, then sighs.

Xiumei complains to herself, softly: "Too hot..."

<Pose Tracker> Azoth has posed.

Solaris having a base in Spira has somewhat dampened the enthusiasm Azoth once had running about in Drifter related jobs and adventures. Not that it shows outwardly -- not even a little. It's with the same big smile and enthusiasm as always that Azoth agreed to this job, and not merely because a listening post was of particular interest.

So it is in his own patrolling that he pops up behind Xiumei with her complaint, doing little to announce his presence besides cheerfully exclaiming: "I brought water!" as he holds his arm out with a canteen.

Gotta take care of the humans, right?

Azoth, for his part, has dressed himself as much in Al Bhed fashion as he's comfortable. Showing skin from the neck down is out, but his black clothing is adorned in asymmetrical, attached sleeves of bright blue to go with a vest and baggy pants. And, you know, belts. Belts are important.

But now that he's closer to this particular human(?), he takes note of her bright, glowing green eyes with his own glowing blue. And her armor...

Azoth stares, failing to blink.

<Pose Tracker> Zhang Xiumei has posed.

"Oh!" Xiumei says, in that usual way: a little soft-spoken, a little surprised that someone seemed to think of her. She smiles, and takes the offered canteen. She uncorks it and has a long drink. She has the sort of complexion that is prone to sunburn, and her purple hair is just long enough to pose a problem. "Thank you very much. That's very kind."

She looks him over -- wonders, for a second, if he is an Al Bhed who just stands out somehow -- and then she smiles again. Though, she blinks, as she realizes he is staring.

And not blinking.

The armor shows its origins. Model AV, being a fusion of Avile and Varius, has their armor abundant visibly. The chest armor is closer to Varius's armor, while the crystal in the chest is closer to Avile's. The headgear is Avile's, though -- and then the leg and arm armor mix the two. She tilts her head.

"...do I have something on my face?" she asks, sounding embarrassed.

<Pose Tracker> Azoth has posed.

There's... something. Something, something... Azoth's eyes flicker, scanning the lines of the armor. Why, why, why...

Just as Azoth begins to wince, Xiumei speaks. Her voice yanks Azoth from buried data streams, and he flinches back, quickly shaking his head. "No! No, sorry." He grins at her sheepishly, rubbing the back of his head and finally blinking his eyes like a normal person. Which he totally is. Obviously. "I just, ah... Maybe the heat's getting to me, too."

Or maybe sand in his optics is causing glitches in his visual data interpretations? He can't find any errors.

Straightening, Azoth offers Xiumei his hand to shake (he's learning!). "My name's Azoth. Seems we're looking out for each other for a bit."

<Pose Tracker> Zhang Xiumei has posed.

"It's really hot," Xiumei says, with a smile. "I shouldn't complain, though, it can get just as hot on Filgaia." She runs her fingers through her hair again, a touch of awkwardness there. Is he from Filgaia or somewhere else? The clothing looks Al Bhed.

The belts could fit in anywhere.

"I'm Xiumei," she says, before she extends a hand out towards him, for a handshake. "Zhang Xiumei. I'm, ah, with ARMS. What about you?"

Then, there is a blink. She has a distracted look on her face -- a little like someone just talked to her, even though no one but them is anywhere nearby. (That, incidentally, is exactly what happened.) Xiumei looks back at him, again, and she tilts her head to the side.

"You said your name is... Azoth?"

<Pose Tracker> Azoth has posed.

Azoth slumps his shoulders dramatically. "Yeah, but the sun feels different from Filgaia." It's meant to imply that's where he, too, is from, but maybe he'll have to clarify. Drifters seem to have gone to the moon and back before.

But he's quick to get back to smiling. "It's nice to meet you, Xiumei! I'm... not really affiliated with anyone. Just wandering. Aimlessly!" He sounds very proud. "But I've worked with ARMs once or twice."

With Xiumei's distraction, Azoth goes still. His eyes shift left, then right, then back center. Quick audio input diagnostic check. All good...?

Azoth tilts his head in turn, opposite of Xiumei's like a mirror. "That's right. A - Z - O - T - H. Azoth!" He grins, then stops, staring again at her armor before meeting her gaze with a sudden, hopeful look in his eyes. "..."

<Pose Tracker> Zhang Xiumei has posed.

"That's true," Xiumei says, with another smile. She bobs her head -- though she blinks at the admission that he is wandering aimlessly. She thought that true of more than a few Drifters; some of them seemed to do that as a matter of course. It feels a little strange to have him say so.

But she smiles, when he offers it.

Then he confirms his name -- spells it out, even -- and looks at him with confusion for a second. "Ah--this is hard to explain--" She hesitates. She looks confused; distracted, glancing to the side instinctively, but a voice in her head has no real source. "Someone, um, in me, says he... wants to have a word with you?" she asks. "So--"

Her eyes blink. Then, his eyes blink.

Varius carries himself differently than Xiumei. He might be the one in control of her body, now, but he holds himself the way that he did when he was still one of the military reploids and not a Biometal-bound specter. He stands up straighter, and his expression shifts -- slowly, into a scowl.

And then he reaches out, Xiumei's hand snapping out like lightning to grab at Azoth's throat.

"All right, Sparky," he says, with a voice that's still Xiumei's, but far rougher in tone. "What the fuck are you doing, running around with that name? You steal something from a ruin when you should have minded your own business?"

Then his eyes screw up -- clearly, something is happening inside of Xiumei.

<Pose Tracker> Azoth has posed.

Azoth watches, mystified. The words themselves are confusing enough, but to see Xiumei's demeanor change so wholly is another matter. Is that what it's like when he does it? But this isn't a matter of turning "off", it's... someone else. Someone else is here now.

Who--

HOPE WAS A MISCALCULATION

Azoth lets out sequence of distressed chirp-beeps as Varius' fingers wrap around his throat, reflexively bringing his hands there to pry at them futilely. He doesn't need that free to breathe -- he doesn't breathe -- but the intention is alarming all the same!

"W-Wait! Hold on! Varius, please...!"

The second the words leave Azoth, his eyes lose all focus, and his struggling turns to deathly stillness.

Varius?

Azoth's eyes become blinding, and he pinches them shut, making a sound like someone shoved a dying alarm through a grinder.

VariusvariusvariusvariusERROR DATA ENCRYPTED ERROR ERROR ERROR ERROR

<Pose Tracker> Zhang Xiumei has posed.

Varius hesitates for a second. It is visible -- his eyes widen a fraction in shock -- and then he seems to freeze up.

There are, as anything with Reploids, rules about how the Biometal functions. One of the rules is that Xiumei is always in control; unless she is unconscious, she can establish control at any moment, and both Varius and Avile find it to be a lot of effort to be the active conscience. As a result, it does not take terribly long.

Xiumei's eyes flash, then dim, and she lets go of Azoth's neck. Her hand backs away, and she makes a sharp, surprised noise. A protest, first: "Varius!" she calls out. "That--that wasn't called for--"

Then, she looks at Azoth. She blinks -- processes the way his eyes are shut, and the way he is making a mechanical sound -- and tilts her head to the side.

"I--I'm terribly sorry, he somtimes does things without running his intentions by me," she says, a little awkwardly. She hesitates, a moment, and then voice: "...a-are you okay?"

<Pose Tracker> Azoth has posed.

Once free of Varius' -- Xiumei's -- grip, Azoth sinks to the ground. He knows that name. He knows that name. A different place. A different time. He stares at nothing, slowly bringing his hand over his face. It's wrong. Synthetic, but soft. The features aren't his. Eyes. Hair.

Slowly, he looks up at Xiumei. A human, standing over him.

Azoth's so... small.

But it's Xiumei again. He can tell that much. Azoth pushes up to his feet with a forced smile. Which means, he means for it to be forced. It would be stranger to pretend he wasn't unsettled. "Yes--" No. "--I think so. I didn't mean to startle you."

That smile's a little more wry. "I hope he didn't mean to startle you, either." Azoth looks to the ground, shaking his head. "...Sorry. May I... speak to him again?" It's not his place to ask. Not any more than he could ask to speak to OS with Lydia. The cost of asking is a lot, and he knows it. But his whole core aches. "It's-- it's all right if he's angry again, too. I think we knew each other."

Were they friends? Varius sounded angry someone would have stolen something from him, but...

<Pose Tracker> Zhang Xiumei has posed.

"It's, um... it's okay. I'm getting used to being startled, to be perfectly honest..." Xiumei looks, somehow, a little smaller than Varius. She is neither a very tall nor very short person; however, she doesn't stand as straight as Varius does, and she doesn't really have the same posture. She hesitates, and then she extends a hand out towards him.

"He startled me," she confirms. "I'm going to have to give him a word. But--ah--" She blinks, once, and then she nods. There is a moment where her eyes flicker, unfocus, and then refocus. Then, the previous bearing is back. Varius stands up straighter.

He pulls his hand back. Offering Azoth help to his feet just seems awkward. He folds his arms, then, and looks down at him.

"...so it's really you," he says. "Huh. You look different. You're a lot shorter, too."

<Pose Tracker> Azoth has posed.

Azoth reaches for Xiumei's hand, but stops short when it becomes Varius'. He stands the rest of the way on his own, and his own demeanor shifts. Straighter, but not a soldier's posture -- more like a manikin, stiff and unnatural. No fidgets. No smiles. No facial expression at all.

It isn't like Solaris, where Azoth concludes unnecessarily trying to express any inner world in the majority of his interactions would be a waste of everyone's time and energy -- most of all his own -- it's the thought that this Azoth is the one Varius would remember.

"Affirmative," he says, and at least his voice becomes familiar. Azoth's voice is a fabrication of a young man's, but even letting the robotic through, it sounds a synthesized version of the same. That's not this voice. This is a deep, artificial voice befitting a Gear's majesty as it gives reports to a pilot in the cockpit.

"This system was displaced from its original chassis. The current model is sub-optimal. And, to use a technical term... 'itty-bitty'."

<Pose Tracker> Zhang Xiumei has posed.

Varius's voice is something, now, only heard by Xiumei. Her voice can only approximate the roughness -- tones that are rough around the edges, but with a certain cockiness. Zeboim engineers based it on fighter pilots; for the Reploids, they wanted them to sound like humans to not unnerve the Federation's soldiers. When put with Xiumei's higher tones, it sounds wrong.

"That sounds like the kind of shit that'd happen to us, since the world went to hell," Varius says, and he shrugs Xiumei's shoulders in a flippant way that she would never. "I can see what you mean."

He would, probably, much rather be enormous again.

His arms fold -- he looks around, finds nothing to lean back against -- and then his eyes turn back onto Azoth. "So... how much do you remember?"

<Pose Tracker> Azoth has posed.

The light of Azoth's eyes dims as he looks upward. Every time he roots through his memory, it's encryption and corruption and sharp stabs of agony throbbing through his calculations as accessed strands of data tangle inside him until, if he persists, he crashes.

Azoth was a Gear -- a weapon meant to be manned.

"Basic system functionality. Your name. The directive to protect my pilot." Azoth looks to his hand, moving his fingers. "The view from the sky."

His attention falls back to Varius. "...End of list."

Not when he went dormant, or why. Not if there was another directive, another purpose, another mission. Not who created him. Not who his pilot was.

"New input may trigger the proper connections of corrupted data, but I hypothesize this cannot correct the data that is missing or locked."

<Pose Tracker> Zhang Xiumei has posed.

"Damn," Varius says.

There are things he doesn't say. There are memories that he doesn't linger on -- things that are a blur, things that have become corrupted, or been lost. There are things that he does not let himself remember. There are the ways that he changed; the ways that his thinking is altered by changing from a Reploid's processing unit to being ran through a human brain, and everything that comes with that.

"Good enough," he says. "We were comrades. We fought, at the end of the Zeboim Federation. Some of it's... foggy, still, for me. But I remember you."

He hesitates, for a second more, and then he adds: "That world's gone. Don't bother trying to get your memories back." Varius closes his eyes; the shine of the light glowing in Xiumei's eyes makes them glow through her eyelids. Her eyesight is so bad that the Biometal makes light lenses strong enough to correct it.

"That world's dead, Azoth," he says. He thinks of Marivel Armitage and Kamui; he thinks of Ashley Winchester, and what this unit would have to do, if it learned what the kid is. "The rest of them, they haven't figured it out. Or they don't want to accept it. But it's gone. And it's better off that way. Figure out what you want, and do that instead of chasing it."

<Pose Tracker> Azoth has posed.

Azoth gives Varius a long look, and even though no feature of his face shifts, there's a weight in his eyes. Maybe it's the same weight that sat in his Gear's face that he would have acknowledged Varius -- or anyone -- from before, just as immobile, but with that intense glow of light that tries desperately to communicate what complicated processes run within his circuits.

Comrades. "Thank you."

Zeboim Federation. War. Azoth can't remember. He wants to -- in so much he could remember someone who calls him a comrade. But Varius is right. That world is dead. The past's secrets are painful at best, dangerous at worst. One does not creature a Gear like Azoth because they intend to do their enemies a kindness.

"'Want' is a product of my code." And that, frustratingly, could be something Varius remembers a little of: an ancient Azoth always emphasizing a robotic, coded nature. Azoth was not built like Varius. He was not intended to think so freely, and those limitations run uncomfortably against a mind far more advanced -- more emotional -- than designed for. "But my objective is not impossible in the present era, nor in this chassis."

If only it were the only objective he had.

If only he could tell Varius about any of that.

<Pose Tracker> Zhang Xiumei has posed.

"Ugh... yeah, that's right. Your code," Varius says, with a grunt. And it might seem like a dismissal; it might seem like a refusal to acknowledge how Azoth is so different than him. His free will is a better illusion, even to him; he had to push hard to find the ways that the Federation limited his behavior.

They made him unlikely to, in the first place. It took recent events to fully awaken him to the idea -- and only after he changed, fundamentally.

Varius knows the difference between them. But if he brushes it aside, he doesn't have to admit how uncomfortable it makes him. He doesn't have to admit how powerless he feels. He doesn't have to admit he can't change that.

It is a five thousand year-old defense.

"What's your objective?" he asks, finally. He looks across at Azoth -- at his eyes, since that seems to be the only part of him that is genuine.

He asks it to prove a point, never knowing he has to ask him to lie.

<Pose Tracker> Azoth has posed.

"To protect my pilot," Azoth, indeed, lies. He cannot say the overrides, even if he tries, every relevant response torn apart as it forms. But that may not be all of it even from their era long before, either. It was most certainly not all of it. Why make an AI so advanced it's accidentally more than you bargained for if you weren't trying to do something more complex than a pilot's security blanket? Azoth concludes that would have been an extraordinary effort for something most pilots are expected to handle themselves.

But that's the only piece he remembers. Sometimes he wonders if it's the only one Solaris let him remember. It's a dark thought with as much hope in it as fear, as if someone so close might have the key. As if it hasn't been lost forever. And if they're hiding it, it isn't something that needs to be.

It's a comforting hypothesis with, unfortunately, currently zero evidence and minimal chances of being true.

There's still no flicker on his face as Azoth remarks, "There is no need to point out the size problem. I have robust enough algorithms to adapt to the circumstances once my programming identifies a qualifying individual. Or individuals."

<Pose Tracker> Zhang Xiumei has posed.

Varius looks back at Azoth. He suspects there is more to it -- that there must be more to it -- because that age made a world with too many dangerous secrets and desperate intentions. "All right, then," he says. "Protect your pilot. And you've got the latitude to make that broad, and keep people safe."

He nods. "Good. Do me a favor." He taps a finger against Xiumei's cheek -- then flinches, because he just jabbed himself hard enough for it to hurt. "Keep an eye on the kid," he says. "She's all right."

It is an understatement as ever. But he looks... awkward, when he says it, in a way that he usually never expresses. He must be attached. Beyond the rather obvious, rather permanent attachment.

<Pose Tracker> Azoth has posed.

It's not the face Varius remembers, but it's the face Azoth has now, and it does have advantages. Azoth risks testing one of them now by cracking his lips into a soft smile. Like the false Drifter persona he was wearing before, it comes smooth and natural. Impressive human impersonation for someone who's supposed to have an unmovable monster Gear face.

Or frightening. Or frustrating. Results have varied based on audience.

"I will do everything I can."

He means that. But agony settles in his core with the knowledge that this will not be nearly enough.

"...Have you found your objective in this world?"

<Pose Tracker> Zhang Xiumei has posed.

Varius is, all told, a little surprised to see him smile. But, his imitation of a human was so good that he assumed him to be a Drifter that became a grave robber. How much of that is genuine? Varius has to wonder, for a moment, before he nods his acceptance.

Then he hesitates.

"...Yeah, or near enough. I'm stuck with the kid--Avile, too." His old partner Reploid. "We're..." He hesitates. He seems to be about to say something else. But then, he shakes his head. "...We've found some people we knew. And it's a chance to make things turn out differently, this time."

A moment passes, before he adds:

"Maybe."

<Pose Tracker> Azoth has posed.

It's okay, Varius. Azoth wonders how genuine it is, too.

His eyes widen and flicker again, brighter than before. "Avile." Caught in a blank stare, several seconds pass before Azoth refocuses back on Varius. At least he didn't have an error attack and crash this time.

Azoth frowns a little at the vagueness of the statement. Varius may be trying to protect him if he believes the past is best left forgotten as possible. But the overrides twist the calculations in his skull, posing questions Azoth has to find solutions to. Varius is a possible solution.

Stop it. Stop making him think of a comrade that way. Please.

"...I hope that you can."

Don't say it, don't say it, don't say it --

But like how the overrides tear words apart, sometimes they force him to put something together. Not in exact wording, but in intention.

"If I can increase the odds of your success, I offer my assistance."

<Pose Tracker> Zhang Xiumei has posed.

"Yeah. She's... around, too." Varius hesitates more, here. He knows that he leaves a lot unsaid; as much as he can be distant, he is a bad liar, and he doesn't particularly try. But there are parts of this story that, he thinks, maybe should not be said here.

He watches Azoth's reaction -- never quite guessing at those overrides or what they might do. Instead, he nods his head once, as he hears something that sounds like an earnest offering.

"Yeah," he says. "All right. Uh. Thanks." He sounds awkward about say that, too. Then, Varius's eyes flicker -- spotting where a pair of Al Bhed are walking towards them. "Looks like they're finishing up. I'll... find Kamui, and let you and her talk, too. I don't know if you remember her. That can happen later."

<Pose Tracker> Azoth has posed.

Azoth does not pry. Varius may clearly be hiding something, but whether it's friendship or overrides that would want that information, both would conclude that patience is valuable here.

With Varius' flicker, Azoth glances too, and then suddenly all the life is back in him as he stretches his arms a bit and rests a hand idly on his hip, grinning wide so that there's plausible deniability for the approaching Al Bhed. "That'd be great!" He frowns with a small sulk. "I don't, but... I'd really love to meet her."

Kamui. Potentially one of Azoth's former comrades.

Kamui. One of Azoth's objectives.

None of Azoth's pain shows through on his smiling face.

Why did Varius have to find him...?