2021-01-29: If Gears Could Speak

• Log: If Gears Could Speak
• Cast: Seraph Liath, Azoth, Ida Everstead-Rey
• Where: The Thames - Market
• Date: January 29, 2021
• Summary: While contemplating what to do about the Gear found at the bottom of the sea with Ida, Azoth meets a mysterious Seraph on a hunt for hydro melons.

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==========================<* The Thames - Market *>===========================

The Thames' market is nestled around the operations tower of the once-aircraft carrier. It is a veritable nest of essentials and luxuries, ranging from the open-air stalls tantalising one's tastebuds and nostrils with the scent of fried foods and other quick bites, to the nitty and gritty of the all-you-can-find bargain bin of spent Gear parts. The only limiting factor of this market is one's patience in searching for diamonds in the rough... and willingness to haggle and strike friendships with the locals. The energy around the deck is positively infectious, always with at least a low-key level of laughter and camaraderie.

BGM: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YREOhjsSvOs

<Pose Tracker> Azoth has posed.

The Thames has become a place of lonely comfort to Azoth, because he's never met a feeling that was simple and straightforward. If 'she' were still alive, surely she would feel at home here. She would be surrounded in the machines she loved and not thought of as lesser for being a surface dweller or a beastfolk. They are memories he should be building with her -- with him, with both of them. He builds them alone instead.

Not quite alone. There are new people Azoth has come to want to protect (even if that, itself, is an impossible dream). People he worries for. People who have their own memories to learn. Seeing Gwen consumed in flame and Ida as if her soul had been torn out provided sharp evidence of that. But once the dark feathers got involved, Azoth's memories are as disjointed and clouded as those from the ancient past. He could see them hurting, but for so long, he could do nothing to reach them. It took several minutes and a hard reset to sense anything properly again.

"Are you still feeling all right, Miss Ida?" Azoth asks, concern plain on his face. "The Gear will still be here later. Or I can get you a snack, at least..." Even if she seems herself, he doesn't want her to push it. It's important organics get hydration and sustenance while recovering from an incident, physical AND emotional...!

But he also understands investigating their new find can serve a distraction: a new Gear kept within Thames, finally cleaned of all its gunk and barnacles from its time forgotten at the bottom of the sea. After barely escaping Gomihone and watching cargo sink into the abyss, the only prize that remained was this battered machine. There's something doll-like and delicate about the frame, plus a flared, blade-like silhouette fanning from the hips -- 'she', Azoth thinks most people would call it, based on the data he's collected of such patterns -- but cosmetic damage cleaves into its dark plates, including a prominent crack across the helmet like a brutal scar.

For all its wear and tear, however, it remains, potentially, functional. The advantage of being a rather simplistic Gear in performance is that there's nothing overly complicated to break. The cockpit block is left open, though it's a small, utilitarian space with a single seat. Azoth perches on the side of it so Ida can have more room while he brushes his fingers over the controls.

The cockpit is as dark as the Gear itself, making the pair of them visible in contrast even from a distance.

<Pose Tracker> Ida Everstead-Rey has posed.

    Ida has had a rough few days. There were discussions, once she regained consciousness, as well as comfort... but what Gwen's stalker did to her has opened great wounds. They will take time to heal.

    Compared to what happened in Luca, investigating a brand-new machine with a dear friend is a balm for Ida's soul. She sits in the Gear's pilot seat, wearing a suit of brand-new Thames coveralls, because as far as her aunt's concerned, she's part of the work crew. She turns to Azoth, smiling as gently as she can manage. "For the hundredth time, Azoth," she says, "I'm fine." A long pause, wherein Ida looks out at the Gear's darkened display panels. "But I know you're worried. I'm worried, too."

    Ida looks down at her right hand--something she's been doing more often than normal, since the incident. "But that's why I'm here. Eleanor taught me to ground myself, to do things that remind me of who I am, and what I care for. Being on the Thames, exploring the inner workings of a Gear with a dear friend." She smiles, and reaches up to tousle Azoth's hair, if he'll let him. "I need to learn to care for myself."

<Pose Tracker> Seraph Liath has posed.

There's something to be said of the importance of perspective shaping reality.

Take, for instance, someone experiencing something for the very first time. The actor in question might feel a deep seated sense of bafflement and wonder. It's a bit like experiencing a high of new and unexpected stimulus. It's fantastic.

For the outside observer, it can be charming, to watch someone's wide-eyed enthusiasm in exploring every nook and cranny of the newfound thief of their attention and amazement. Like watching a child on their first birthday.

And for someone experiencing it firsthand it--

"Ah! Are these the selfsame cranes used for the acquisition of hydro melons--??"

-- it can be a little bit annoying when you have to field someone's wonderment for the better part of an hour as they fail to grasp the simple concepts behind why using salvage cranes to harvest hydro melons would not only not be economically viable but also impossible because hydro melons do not come from the ocean no I swear they don't I don't care what your friend said--

Which brings us to

    NOW

where one such person has been directed by a generous and not at all flabbergasted soul to the entire other end of the Thames' upper deck with helpful directions of,

"Look, okay, the hydro melons cranes are -- they're over there, okay? Yeah. That way. Away from me. You're welcome. Just -- go. For the love of Granas--"

and a vague wave of a hand in a random direction that, as if guided by fate, brings the Seraph known as Liath to Azoth and Ida's proverbial doorstep, standing just in front of that sundered gear, looking up at it with the gentle tilt of her head. She has yet to notice Azoth or Ida; her focus is strictly on the machine.

It's not bafflement or wonder that she wears now, though. She's in the Guard, after all; she's seen Gears. Or Golems. To her, they're mostly the same.

So no. Instead, right now...

"You poor creature. You have been through so much, have you not?"

... it's sympathy. For a Gear. Which might be peculiar -- if it weren't for how painfully heartfelt that bittersweet painting her expression is.

<Pose Tracker> Azoth has posed.

Azoth puffs his cheeks a little as Ida scolds him for his repeated efforts. It's an expression that fades easily with the hair tousling -- something Azoth leans into easily because sometimes it's hard to tell it wouldn't have made more sense to shove him in the body of something small and domestic. Or maybe he simply enjoys what he knows these gestures intend to communicate.

"Okay, okay. I understand," He says, relenting.

When he thinks Ida's not looking, he glances at her hand, too.

There's a new voice. Azoth goes on High Alert (Azoth you're not even doing anything suspicious right now), and he leans over the edge to see an unfamiliar face. One filled with sympathy.

For the Gear. For a Gear.

His tone is softer when he speaks. "Yeah, it looks that way. I wish they could talk and tell us what it all was."

<Pose Tracker> Ida Everstead-Rey has posed.

    Ida used to do this to Edward sometimes, when they were both small--and Edward far more tolerant of his elder sister mussing his hair and clothes. "I know," she says. "I'm sorry, I must seem so ungrateful, after what happened..."

    She sees that look. Her smile turns a little sad, a little guilty.

    But a voice from below cuts off her train of thought before it can travel too far down that long, lonely track. Ida pulls a release, unlocking the seat--and as she swivels around, she glances down at the floor near the Gear's feet. Surprise is plain on her face, but it's not the unpleasant kind. "Lady Liath?" Ida says, warmth lighting up her eyes. "Oh, you must've been the one the crane crews were discussing earlier. They mentioned a woman who dressed all in armor, and kept making inquiries. Is this your first time here?" A pause, where Ida looks back at Azoth. It's remarkable how her demeanor seems to have changed--the weight of fear and doubt is easier to bear. "Azoth, this is Lady Liath--a Seraph, like Boudicca and Lanval and Ragnell."

<Pose Tracker> Ida Everstead-Rey has posed.

    Ida picks up on Azoth's concern, though, and nods, somberly. "I do, too. But whatever it was, they've survived--and that counts for a lot, in this world."

<Pose Tracker> Seraph Liath has posed.

Arms crossed over her chest, weight leaned upon her right leg, Liath is giving the Gear a critical look over when she hears a voice. She blinks, once. She has not yet looked up.

"More than looks it," she mentions. "Surely you must feel the weight of history upon your frame...?"

Is she--

'I wish they could talk and tell us what it all was.'

"-- but are you not talking now--?"

-- yes she's assuming the Gear was talking without even so much as batting an eye.

It's a thing short-lived in its flummoxed vexation when she hears another, familiar voice; eyes bright as molten gold turn up and widen with recognition and pleasure at the sight familiar sight of Ida; she notices Azoth, too, in short order, and then blinks. She looks back to the Gear proper. Then back at Azoth. The Gear. Azoth.

"So it was you who was speaking and not -- ah," exhales the Seraph, in revelation.

"... ah. I see."

Fortunately, her disappointment at finding the exciting prospect of meeting a talking Gear being dashed is quickly replaced by a warmth that goes well beyond her smile as she rests her armored hand over her heart and dips her head.

"Lady Ida, it has been far too great an age since we could properly speak," greets the Prime Lord. That gaze turns once more back towards Azoth, brows lifted. "And so then you are Master Azoth. It is a true pleasure to meet you. As Lady Ida has said, I am not of this world -- though I would not do Lady Boudicca and Master Lanval the disservice of being compared to someone like myself."

She does not seem to include Ragnell in this. Maybe she just waved that one off. Or maybe she's more comfortable being spoken of in the same breath as her.

Either way...

"This is my first time upon this vessel, however, yes. It is remarkable, is it not? Like its own little world, nestled upon the sea. And the people here are so helpful! Were I able, I would spend all day here learning every single thing I possibly could about this place."

god help everyone on the thames, she would

<Pose Tracker> Azoth has posed.

Unlike flesh and blood little brothers, Azoth does not seem to develop any sense of embarrassment over familial displays of affection. Praise, please!

"-- but are you not talking now--?"

Azoth is, as always, the face whatever he wants to be. Which is to say, a small tilt of his head and confusion for now. In reality, panic lances through his core. He has met enough cryptic individuals in the world to wonder if she isn't being coy with him to speak in some roundabout way because she Knows The Truth.

Ultimately, it seems she doesn't. Her disappointment is a mirror of his own (panic? disappointment? again, feelings never come alone), but he can't let that display, either.

Instead, Azoth perks up back up when they refer to one another by name. "It's nice to meet you, too! Any friend of Miss Ida's is a friend of mine."

But he frowns a little as she wavers on comparisons. "Because you're a different element?" he ventures, knowing full well there seems to be a deeper meaning there. Something unsettles him in one existence being a possible disservice to another. "I've learned to see Seraph, but element isn't always immediately evident. Except lightning." He beams in delight, because he's only met one lightning Seraph, and that's Ragnell, and he likes Ragnell. "They make my thoughts itch."

<Pose Tracker> Ida Everstead-Rey has posed.

    Ida glances at Azoth, eyebrows raised. She looks back down at Liath again, warmth returning. "It has," she says, with a nod of agreement. "Had I known you were aboard, I would've offered to give you a tour myself. My aunt is one of the crew chiefs here in the hangar, so I know more about its inner workings than most."

    Ida isn't quite sure what to make of the Prime Lord's reaction to her comparison. It certainly isn't an insinuation that she was somehow superior to Boudicca and Lanval. In fact, it might just be the opposite. Is it because of what the Guard has done? The heiress doesn't prod the issue further, instead motioning to the rope ladder connecting the cockpit to the decking below. "Come up and join us," she says, her smile bright. "We were just examining the integrity of this machine's electronics. They're in decent shape, for something that spent God-knows-how-long at the bottom of the sea."

    Ida pauses a beat, and turns to Azoth. "Have you thought about what you're going to call them?"

<Pose Tracker> Seraph Liath has posed.

Because you're a different element?

"That is not wholly the answer, but in a very literal sense, that is true."

Liath's armored hand falls to the pommel of her sword, rested comfortably sheathed against her hip. She looks up past the Gear towards the clear sky above and the pleasant heat the sun beats down upon the massive freighter.

"I am a Seraph of Light," she explains, easily enough, "whereas Lady Boudicca is of the wind, and Master Lanval of the waters. But that is not why." And here, she cups her chin with her gloved hand for a moment, brows furrowed. As if attempting to decide the best way to word her explanation.

"Perhaps it is best to say that we simply walk upon on different paths."

And it is here that Liath looks back at Azoth, for a critical moment, as he mentions sensing lightning. Her head cants in curiosity. She'd ask after it, but first:

"Lightning may be pleasantly itchy to the mind, Master Azoth, but take care not to put much stock in the words of the Seraphim who wield it. Much like their element they are oft shocking simply for the sake of the shock. And much like thunder, are loud and belligerent. And uncouth. And say patently false things that stretch the realm of the imagination only to tease you relentlessly for having the trust enough to have fallen for their mischief. ... Just as lightning."

Liath, it seems, has strong feelings on Seraphim of Lightning.

"Though I met a rather pleasant one, once. And I have heard the elder of the village in Hyland is a just and noble man. And then of course there was..."

... or maybe she just has strong feelings on one specific Seraph of Lightning.

Regardless, she's still in the middle of listing the (many) exceptions to her rule on Lightning Seraph (that suspiciously don't include certain, cowboy hat wearing Lightning Seraphim), when Ida invites her up. She blinks, looks up. And her beaming expression is as bright as the rising sun.

"Truly? Then I would be happy to assist." no that's not really a good idea --

Which doesn't stop her from grabbing the rope ladder, planting one boot heel upon the third rung, bracing her other upon the floor which is absolutely not how you use a rope ladder --

-- and then kind of using it as a vault to hurl herself up into the air into a dramatic soar, sending her landing, with a suspiciously light impact, on a crouch just on the outer perimeter of the cockpit. Because this is simply the way Liath does things.

"Ah, a name? Have you found one she will like?"

<Pose Tracker> Azoth has posed.

Liath gives a different explanation, touching up on a depth Azoth isn't privy to. He smiles at her more softly than that blinding, almost dumb joy typical of his face. "Is that how it is? Well, not everyone can walk the same one."

He brings his hand to his mouth as if to stifle a laugh as she goes on about lightning Seraphs. It's all a little too familiar. "I guess that's true!" Azoth says, and maybe they're all talking about one very specific Seraph together. "But it doesn't work well enough to hide the kindness."

Sorry Ragnell, he still thinks you're soft.

Then Liath... arrives! Azoth's eyes go ride and bright as he claps his hands together, his mouth a perfect o of awe.

An o that fades. "M-Me?!" It hasn't fully taken that this Gear might be considered his. The implications are so much stranger than they know. He personifies machines heavily in being one, in wanting to see them all as alive in him, in being afraid someone won't hear them in ways he wasn't heard in the past. But once he's inside, there will be that emptiness. It'll be him alone in the body, synced to its every moment. It'll become 'him' -- another body he doesn't belong in, like wearing someone else's corpse.

Enough of this, and the data of adapting may start to become more relevant to his calculations than the data of what he was.

But fearing loss of identity isn't a valid reason to jeopardize his objectives. Without a chassis on a Gear's scale, he can do little to help protect Thames from Gomihone. He frowns. "She had a name." Aha, he was right. He's getting better at this. "I can't just change it. I want to try and find out what it was."

<Pose Tracker> Ida Everstead-Rey has posed.

    Ida's lips twist into a familiar little smirk. That warmth doesn't fade from her eyes, even as she, too, identifies the exact Seraph in question. "They have... strange ways of showing it," Ida says. Regardless, she needs to talk to Azoth about Ragnell--but not here, in front of someone she knows. She's not looking forward to the conversation.

    "You helped save them from that monstrosity, as well as me," Ida says. "And the hangar staff has you marked down as the salvage claimant." Insofar as the Thames keeps official salvage records. "You're their pilot now." Her voice grows soft, gentle. She knows this is a sensitive topic for Azoth, in many ways. "And you'll take care of them, as I do the old girl three bays down."

    And then Liath LEAPS into the cockpit, prompting a soft gasp of surprise from Ida. She looks at Azoth, studying his reaction. So he's gendered her already. "That... might be somewhere in the computer core," Ida says. She pauses a moment, and looks at Liath. "How familiar are you with a Gear's inner workings, Lady Liath?"

<Pose Tracker> Seraph Liath has posed.

'But it doesn't work well enough to hide the kindness.'

"Ah! You are already aware of their nature. That is a relief to know."

Yep. You're not fooling anyone, Ragnell--!

Liath's spectacle, such as it is, doesn't go unnoticed. There are more than a few passerbys even in this corner of the Thames, and more than a handful turn their head to look.

They all seem perfectly and naturally aware of the woman with goldspun hair, however. Maybe they're all just that spiritually aware.

But what are the odds of that?

Upon landing, however, Liath mostly remains silent as the two speak on the matter of names. The intensity of that bright gaze falls upon Azoth in quiet scrutiny as he works through the prospect of naming the Gear. Settling upon her knee, her lips purse, and she looks towards the scarred sight of the Gear.

"... It is a peculiar subject, names," she says, after a moment, almost as if simply musing to herself. "I find it a remarkable thing of human nature. I was simply born with mine. It was never a question; when I knew, I knew. But mortals are given theirs. They then give them to others. People, animals. This machina, even. And that name becomes the identity through which they are forged. But..."

It is a frown, now, that has settled on Liath's lips, as she looks into the cockpit. She doesn't really understand all the machinery she sees, but she knows enough, at least, to offer: "... sometimes, however, these names become a prison. And sometimes, part of the process of growing is shedding the skin of our past to become something new. Sometimes, finding a new name can be a blessing unto itself. I imagine it is not so dissimilar for her, is it? Perhaps the name she has is the one she needs still. Or perhaps she needs something new, apart from the scars carved upon her past. Think of it as helping her to find herself, whatever the form may be."

She's prescribing a wealth of personality to what is by all means a tool. But she also doesn't bat an eye at it, any more than she does her answer to Ida's question:

"Mm? Ah! Quite familiar. The Guard were to be assigned their own rideable automatons - Golems, I believe is the nomenclature? - and I was given opportunity to 'test the drive' of one. I took to it well, I believe. It held up wonderfully! The instructor said she had never seen so many remarkable collisions in her life."

She beams at this assertion. She might have willfully misrepresented what 'remarkable' was meant to convey in this situation. And what 'test driving' is actually meant to entail.

"I know them well enough now to utilize such machinery as my vessel, but ultimately I decided against it. I much prefer walking upon my own feet, and fighting with my own blade."

<Pose Tracker> Azoth has posed.

Azoth catches the glances that notice Liath's presence. That's odd. Boudicca was able to fall asleep, unnoticed. ... Or so it seemed. Should he warn Boudicca to be careful, because they actually can see her? Yet that does seem unlikely...

Reaffirming Azoth saved everyone pings his positive feedback for his highest level objectives (sans overrides) and that's not fair, Ida! Azoth doesn't make eye contact as she explains, but his disquieted look at least calms. A Gear in possession of his own Gear. Scandalous. Or paradoxical.

If Liath weren't present, Azoth might be able to pull the information out directly. Or... maybe that doesn't matter. Azoth's started to become less afraid of that. But even as he sees their acceptance and understands why Lydia refuses to hide it, continuing to behave as though he's nervous about it helps fit a persona they're all more inclined to treat sensitively. It remains advantageous for new, possibly more unsettling reasons.

But Liath speaks of the subject of names, prisons, and freedoms. "A prison, huh...?" He brushes his fingers over the Gear's controls. It's difficult to understand. He was given a name. A designation. It's deep in his code. The idea of ripping it away sounds... painful. So much to rework and reroute. How does one decide a name?

"...If there isn't one left behind, I'll try to find something..." His brow furrows. What would Azoth even want as a name, could he choose? ... That's just the thing, he can't. What a difficult concept to conceive for another machine. "...Something freeing."

"The instructor said she had never seen so many remarkable collisions in her life."

A chill seizes Azoth's core. He smiles at her nervously. "We all have our strengths. I'm glad you've found comfort in yours...!"

<Pose Tracker> Ida Everstead-Rey has posed.

    Ida's gaze trails outwards, noting a few of the techs outside. Her brow furrows, ever-so-slightly, as she remembers the Fuel Ghost Incident--and how at least one of those same techs was on the hunt for said specter. Is it possible their resonance has progressed that far, that quickly, or...?

    Is the alternative even possible? Ida frowns, thoughtfully.

    "I know the feeling," Ida murmurs, as Liath speaks of names becoming prisons. "I wanted to leave mine behind, once--to disappear." Why would she want that? As far as Azoth knows, she has a loving family, and a degree of material comfort some humans would kill for. "It took a very long time, but eventually I realized I was running from myself." She blinks away tears as they slick across her eyes. "But how selfish of me to make this about me. You have a good heart, Azoth. I know you'll do right by her." She knows how personal this is for him.

    Ida looks at Azoth when Liath speaks of collisions. "Yes," she says. "I'm very glad as well." And so is the Gear Liath piloted, if it could be.

<Pose Tracker> Seraph Liath has posed.

Long soliloquies on identity and collateral damage are followed anew by comfortable, serene quiet on Liath's part; she's content to watch, and to listen, like someone who has had many lifetimes of experience simply playing the part of the observer. It's with that same patience she doesn't deign to interrupt either of them -- not when Azoth ruminates through the idea and significance of names from his own perspective, nor when Ida more openly speaks on her own, recent history.

She just listens. And her expression gentles into something that is almost infectiously empathetic. Like she can't help but feel, for both of them.

"What matters is the simple fact that you stopped running, Lady Ida. You turned around, and you faced the truth. And being able to face oneself with open eyes is a source of tremendous strength."

Her smile grows once more, so sincere and effusive in its admiration it squeezes those golden eyes shut.

"Even one such as me can tell how far you have come. You are magnificent, Lady Ida."

It is here, then, that her gaze cracks open once more. She looks towards Azoth, thoughtful for a moment. A soft sound slips past her lips. "Mm. Perhaps it will be a good experience for both of you," muses the Seraph on the matter of finding a so-called freeing name. "I am sure you shall rise to the occasion either way, Master Azoth."

And despite having only just met, she says this with a certain absoluteness to her tone that broaches nothing less than total certainty.

These observations, of course, just stand in all the starker contrast to her blithe obliviousness to the existential Gear-based dread, to which she just offers a sagacious nod and a firm, "Of course! Though, we can all strive to better ourselves, even in the things we do not gravitate to. Hm..." as if patently unaware of what horrors she is threatening.

<Pose Tracker> Azoth has posed.

All of the Seraph Azoth has met seem to have kindness in their own way. Boudicca seems to bleed with it, and now Liath, too. A different warmth, but not a lesser one. He smiles with her words. "I think so too," he says in agreement with Liath's assertion that Ida is magnificent.

Azoth has met Ida's family, but he's also seen Ida in the prison in Spira, and her reactions to the individual called the Trial Knight. There's a long, dark history there. Ragnell had suggested Azoth ask on the nature of pain, and that friendship could involve sharing these pains. Or would he be picking at an old wound? "And I don't think it's selfish to want to talk about it," he says, and he gives a weak smile. "Or about anything else." There is a not-so-subtle glance to her right hand.

But the Gear... And Liath's confidence in him. He grins, rubbing the back of his head. "When you say it like that, now I've got to do my best. Though I still wish I could ask her which name she wants. I wish I could ask if she wanted to fight Gomihone at all. But... I know that's not how it works."

He knows she can answer him no more than he can answer himself.

No Liath no...! "Ah... that's... true. Maybe you could try different approaches, though. Can you inhabit a machine, Miss Liath? I've met some Seraphs that can."

<Pose Tracker> Ida Everstead-Rey has posed.

    Ida's smile broadens, even as her cheeks flush pink. "I... needed that vote of confidence, Lady Liath," she murmurs. "Returning home, while deeply gladdening, presented its own trials." The holidays are a source of great joy, but also great stress. Ida has new thoughts weighing on her mind--her brother's envy, her dear schoolmate's anger, her friends and colleagues seeing the filthy, grinding gears of the plutocratic machine that is Guild Galad. "There was a time when I wasn't sure I could do it. But I did, and--and I'm glad."

    Azoth gives a meaningful glance at Ida's right hand. She looks at Liath, meeting the Seraph's golden gaze. "I suppose I should explain, then," she says. "There was an incident in Luca." Liath might have heard about it: a fire, caused by a woman made of flame. At least some of the Guards sent to respond were enraptured by strange phenomena. "A dear friend of mine was... made a puppet by a--" Ida's throat tightens at the memory of those cold blue eyes. "--A man with terrible powers of the mind. He reached out to me, though her--dragged me elsewhere, showed me--" Her voice begins to tremble. The memories are sharp-edged and riddled with inconsistencies. Not only are they painful, they make her doubt her own perceptions of what happened. "...Something terrible. Something he wanted to bring about. I lost consciousness."

    "And then he..." Ida flexes her right hand, the same hand Liath held without judgment when they first met. "...He awakened. The flesh you saw aboard the Fereshte--it was his once. His name is Fafnir. The others told me he took control of my body, and fought."

<Pose Tracker> Seraph Liath has posed.

"... by what means and to what end would one hone a gummy...?"

Liath, inquisitively cupping her chin, may not know what Gomihone is.

She does, however, know at least one of the things Azoth mentions: stirred from her thoughtful reverie on the purpose of tempering gummies, she looks down toward the cockpit proper as that question is asked with a blink of bright eyes. "Ah, yes. I am capable of making machina into a vessel, though Lightning Seraphim are perhaps better suited toward the act," explains the Prime Lord with simple ease; her armored hand sweeps out, as if to indicate the whole of the Thames in one gesture. "There is little in this world nor mine that a Seraph cannot inhabit; it is the dint of our ephemeral nature, and a means of protecting ourselves from the perils of Malevolence. I could use this very ship as a vessel --" and then, toward that hand gestures to Ida and Azoth in turn.

"... or either of you. Though to inhabit a living being would typically require their own willingness, lest they were unaware of it," her brows furrow here, a frown pressing to her lips. "... or had that will stripped from them. But to make a mortal one's vessel is one of the core conceits of the pact that gives rise to Shepherds on Glenwood. Those of us who bind ourselves to a mortal entrust in them the very fate of our being, as I have entrusted mine to the Shepherd."

But it is as this primer on the nature of vessels and seraphic possession ends, that Ida relates a more sinister tale of possession all her own. There is a look of recognition there in the Prime Lord's gaze as Ida tells her tale. Gilded eyes turn toward that arm not quite human, head tilt. Concern and thought etches themselves bald-faced upon her brow.

"... A Hyadean? And he yet exerts a will of his own through that limb?" she asks, lips pressed together. "Do you recall aught from your time in darkness, when this Fafnir assumed control?"

<Pose Tracker> Azoth has posed.

"Hone a...? Oh!" Azoth smiles uneasily. "There's a... thing in the water." That's about the least specific a term Azoth could use, and somehow also calculated as the most accurate. "A massive entity of flesh and metal mixed together... By which I mean the size of several Gears put together. It's become a danger to the Thames crew, and anyone who dives into the sea here. It has to be stopped, or it'll hurt more people." He sets his hand to the Gear's console. "...That's why I need help."

He needs a bigger body, because his old one isn't his to use any longer. (The one he inhabits barely is, when you get down to it.)

On the subject of vessels, Azoth's mouth drops open in awe. "W-Wait, even living mortals? That's amazing!" Maybe unsettling is the word others might use, but Liath did specify a willingness. And pacts! Rules systems! That is amazing. Seraphs and Shepherds...

He grins a little wider. "As far as machines are concerned, if you could do it to control a Gear, maybe that would be easier for you than piloting one in the cockpit."

But as Liath asks after Fafnir, Azoth retreats into silence. He's equally interested in Ida's answers despite not yet proving bold enough to ask himself.

<Pose Tracker> Ida Everstead-Rey has posed.

    "Gomihone is a Reaper," Ida says, elaborating a little on Azoth's explanation. "We don't know what they are, precisely, or where they come from--they seemingly exist only to kill and eat the living. In Gomihone's case, this seems to extend to Gears, and other ARMs. It's the first time I've seen such a creature, and I dearly hope it's the only one of its kind."

    Ida's lips tighten as Liath expounds upon the nature of vessels. She remembers Harmaus. She does not bring the matter up.

    "...I don't remember anything beyond the--the nightmare that triggered it. I was in Luca, seeing to a friend who'd been influenced by a man with horrible sorcery, when he reached out, through her, and entered my mind. The next thing I knew, I was lying on a pile of pillows in a bookstore, a pair of Lunarian shortswords sheathed in my forearms." Ida smiles an awkward little smile. "...He... didn't hurt anyone. They told me he was confused, that he couldn't speak, that he wanted to stop dreaming."

<Pose Tracker> Seraph Liath has posed.

"Indeed," proclaims the Seraph Liath, with a radiant smile and an expression effusive with pleasure for Azoth's wonder. "I, in fact, did that very thing for the Golem I had been given! Very astute of you, Master Azoth."

So maybe she's just not meant for Gears.

"Some things, however, make for safer vessels than others," she explains further, regardless of this harrowing revelation, "as they do not take to Malevolence as readily, and to inhabit a mortal vessel makes one as susceptible to Malevolence as the mortal in question. Perhaps it is not so dissimilar to a hermit crab. Though not in a literal sense. I do not, for example, carry around the Shepherd, strapped upon my back."

Only she would think this metaphor required an explanation so as not to be taken literally.

The explanations of Gomihone, however, are met in stride; Liath's expression becomes something impassive and pensive as she looks back to the Thames' grounds. "... A fell beast, then," she surmises. "Mm." She seems to dwell on this, for a time, as if debating something.

"... I suppose gummies are not a factor, then."

no that wasn't what she was debating it's just a tangent

Whatever her thought may be, though, it's tabled as Ida answers her questions. Her brows furrow, thoughtful. "So then he had completely assumed control of your body. Perhaps too your spirit. But was unaware of the fact...?" She ruminates over this, eyes downcast and head tilt, thumb and index finger touched to her chin.

"... then perhaps he is as much a prisoner now as you were then. Could it not be so?"

<Pose Tracker> Azoth has posed.

Azoth's bright expression is unwavering. "It's so interesting to think about how the methods of piloting would differ...!" Internally, he laments for the poor Golem. Perhaps Liath's fate isn't to use Golems and Gears or other large machines as her vessel... But that's what a Shepherd, evidently, is for.

"I've only encountered Malevolence once before, I think," Azoth says. Liath's lessons in vessels may explain why the Seraph he was with at the time had suddenly become a book. "Are the other ways to protect Seraph from it...? Besides vessels."

He frowns with Liath's apparent disappointment. "Do you want me to find you some gummies...?"

As Ida explains, Azoth lifts his hand, but hesitates on any gestures of affection. It doesn't come as easily to him as it does others. It's still a learning in progress, and the risks seem so high: trying at the wrong time can heighten their agitation. He keeps to his silence. Like Liath, he does think Fafnir may be a prisoner of his own sort, but it isn't Azoth's body being used as that prison, and isn't his place to say.

<Pose Tracker> Ida Everstead-Rey has posed.

    A prisoner. That implies that she's the jailer, and her body is his prison--a truly horrible thought. Ida's smile fades, and she pulls back from Liath, slightly. "There have been moments where I feel his presence--sometimes faintly, others keenly. Combat seems to bring him out most strongly, but he's also recognized people I had no name for. Astrid, his second-in-command. Lombardia, Queen of the Metal Dragons. But we can't communicate with thoughts, or with words; I can sense his feelings, and catch the odd glimpse of things that mattered most to him... but that's all.

    "Lady Liath," Ida says, lowering her head. "I remember when we spoke on the Fereshte. Much has happened since. But at times like these, I feel..." Ida swallows. "Freakish. There is a part of me that is glad for it, but I wonder if it's the same part that reveled in the power of Malevolence. I don't think Fafnir is constantly suffering, but--"

    But she worries. She worries about him, about her freedom, about what he might do with her body if given free reign to.

<Pose Tracker> Seraph Liath has posed.

Liath is, if nothing else, earnest, even when that honesty may not be particularly pleasant to hear. She does not shy from it -- but her features soften in sympathy all the same, as she watches Ida withdraw. She lapses into quiet, for a time, before she offers to Azoth:

"A Seraph may resist adulteration by will alone; an uncertain heart is more susceptible to Malevolence than a secure one, and such is true even of we Seraphim. However, with enough Malevolence present, sometimes even that is not enough. Sometimes, it becomes a matter less of will, and more of possibility. Even the most unassailable armor has its cracks. And it is Malevolence's nature to seep through those selfsame openings."

It's a sobering note, perhaps, and one that Liath delivers with all due solemnity, her tone matter of fact if graced with a touch of melancholy. "A Seraph infested is not utterly hopeless. But there is a tipping point at which they become an entity so vast and powerful that it becomes impossible to hide from mortal sight, and produces Malevolence all its own. 'Fell Dragons,' we call them. At that point... salvation is impossible."

It is a serious topic. But it does not deter her from blinking at Azoth's offer.

Liath lifts a finger into the air, expression brightening. "I--!" she begins.

Then considers the importance of the topics being discussed. Looks around her. Calculates the time it would take to find viable gummies on a ship like the Thames. Yes, absolutely she really does this.

"--Perhaps later."

After all...

Ida speaks. And Liath gazes upon her, falling into somber introspection. Her armored hand falls to the pommel of her sword, tightening her fingers' grip on it bracingly for a few, precious seconds.

"... You are you, Lady Ida," she says, after a time. "Perhaps that is a trite thing to say, but I shall say it nonetheless: you are you. There is precious strength to be found in knowing yourself. In accepting yourself. You are an unusual woman. You have been through, and seen much. You have made mistakes, yes? You have fallen to your self-doubt. What created that Hellion side of you is no less a part of you than the you I speak to now. But to me, these things do not tarnish you." Her head tilts.

"To me, they make you shine all the brighter."

That hand relaxes, slowly, against the butt of her weapon. Liath exhales, gently. "There is not one of us who worries, or feels the pang of powerlessness. I would bear that in mind, as you think of Fafnir. Remember what it was like, when you were taken by Malevolence. And try to think of what his world must be now, through that lens."

<Pose Tracker> Azoth has posed.

Azoth mirrors Liath's solemnity as he listens. This is something the Seraph fear, and as he befriends them, it's something he wishes to understand. Even Ida says she's been under the influence of Malevolence. He thinks immediately of the dark times she spoke of when they shared that prison cell. A power that preys on weakness of will and heart, and the impossibility of Fell Dragons... If there's one thing he's observed Drifters hate more than anything else, it's someone they can't save.

"Something that preys on people when they're most in need of help..." How cruel. The laws of the universe are so devoid of justice. "Sorry, I'm sure that brought up unpleasant thoughts and memories. Thank you for explaining it to me."

The brightness in Liath's expression is burned in Azoth's memory now. Perhaps later, she says, and certainly yes: later, there MUST be gummies.

His somber mood warms with Liath's kind words toward Ida. "I didn't know you when you had to endure that, or the you before... I just know the you now. And I like the you now, Miss Ida, whatever you've been through." His smile bcomes more of a grin. "It wouldn't surprise me if Fafnir came to like you, too. You've already been trying to consider him, and I think it's possible showing trust and kindness may lead to it being paid back in kind."

Azoth, after all, has concluded the same for himself. He just hasn't the free will to truly commit.

<Pose Tracker> Ida Everstead-Rey has posed.

    "That's the nature of the beast," Ida says. "It's a rare soul indeed that doesn't harbor secret fears, or doubt, or anger. Malevolence takes root in dissonance, in contradiction. It's not the product of 'negative feelings'--" There are definitely air quotes there, and they are telling. "--but rather, the inability to accept them, to come to terms with them, to use them to help heal the world instead of hurt it." Her shoulders sag. Her lips twist in a sad smile as she looks at Azoth.

    "That's what happened to me. I felt so helpless, so angry at the world for seeming so cruel and complicated. I wanted so desperately to be a hero, to feel loved and valued--and it ate at me, even as the depression grew worse. Feeling even those emotions was... better than feeling nothing at all." She looks the android dead in the eyes. "It all reached a critical state when I killed a man in anger. He'd threatened to kill Gwen, but it was..."

    "I couldn't reconcile the need to forgive with the need for justice. I was so, so angry at those who had everything I didn't. And I fell. I took my rage out on my friends, and on the world. I tried so desperately to blame someone, anyone--the Hyadeans, the Trial Knight, Riesenlied--anyone but myself. But then... then I realized I only had myself to blame. I wanted to stop existing, then. I thought I'd run off everyone who cared about me. I'd injected poison into Lunar's veins."

    "But they came for me. Dean, and Lily, and Kalve, and Boudicca, and all the rest. They came because they still cared, because they saw something worth saving in me--someone in pain. Someone whose thoughts were distorted by Malevolence and mental illness. They saved me."

    Ida swallows, but her smile brightens, slightly. "And they taught me that it's possible to stand strong against injustice, and still be kind. They taught me that empathy is not a weakness, but a great strength."

    Ida trails off, lets Liath speak. Tears glimmer in her eyes, but her smile is bright and genuine. "He must feel great grief--great disconnection from everything. The world went on. Almost everyone he knew is dead. And if I'm--drawing on him when I draw on the graft..." A pause. "It's a thorny subject. Where does the line lie? What is his power, and what is mine?"

<Pose Tracker> Seraph Liath has posed.

For a quiet moment, Liath watches Azoth. Her head tilts towards a shallow angle, as if considering something for a wordless moment, before those lips part anew.

"Mm. Lady Ida is correct. While it is not near so pervasive here yet than it is in my home, once Malevolence has taken root, its nature is to spread and multiply. In great enough volume, it can affect landscape, inanimate objects, even the laws that govern your physical world... but ever and always is it those who feel most strongly are who the most susceptible. I have known mortals who have committed great acts of cruelty who have none of Malevolence's ichorous taint to show for it, simply because they have not the conscience to question themselves nor their actions. It is an empty soul that has no grooves with which Malevolence can hook onto. And a world where Malevolence cannot take root, is an empty world."

Her hands folding against her chest, the look Liath adopts is one that is full of both unshakable conviction and unassailable hope, despite the gravity of her words.

"The same emotions that give way to Malevolence are what make humans so remarkable, and so precious. And I find great beauty in that fact."

She quiets after this soliloquy of a declaration, though -- she does not interfere, or add anything, as Ida explains her circumstances to Azoth, instead letting it lie for Azoth to think of it what he will. She watches the both of them in that moment, curiosity touching her expression in a few brief, flickering moments. But as tears well in Ida's eyes, as she speaks on Fafnir...

"That may be a distinction that grows vanishingly scant the longer that limb and you are one, Lady Ida," is Liath's supposition. "To what end, I cannot say. Nor can I advice you on how best to proceed." That, however, she says in no uncertain terms. "... I would but bear that fact in mind."

She lapses into silence, then, for a time. She considers.

"As I passed this way, I saw a great number of tempting stalls full of many a fried wonder. Would you care to partake? Your work will doubtless be more smoothly accomplished on a fuller stomach." She squints, faintly.

"And I may have ample opportunity to question locals as to my query, too."

She will never give up her hunt for the mythical hydro melon cranes. Not ever. Not... ever.

<Pose Tracker> Azoth has posed.

Azoth frowns, fidgeting his fingers together as it's explained further. "It just seems so insidious. I, uh --" He hesitates, glancing to Liath, but deciding once again not to try too hard to hide himself, "-- I don't know what it's like to have a secret feeling, or to not be aware of where all my thoughts or behaviors came from. It's too much to expect someone not to struggle with if it works like that."

Malevolence is exploiting their design and he doesn't like it! Azoth's cheeks puff. "I hope I can help stop it, if someone I know suffers it."

He glances back up to meet Ida's gaze unwaveringly. Where there was once bits and pieces, it's spelled out in clarity now: all of Ida's suffering and pain. It explains so much of her fears now, for herself, and for him in those moments she saw his mask drop away. "I wouldn't have met you if they hadn't saved you." Azoth gives a small grin. "That's worth it to me! ...I can see all you do to help and not hurt now. The world's better with you in it."

Ida questions the nature of her power. "Is anyone's power truly their own?" Azoth asks. "I don't meant to dismiss your fear, but -- everyone gains strength from each other. That isn't necessarily a bad thing. And it doesn't make anyone less. It's how it's used."

With Liath's suggestion, Azoth brightens. "That's a great idea!" Liath does not know how transparent this is, because she does not know yet Azoth doesn't eat. He smiles up at Ida. "Let's go take a break! With snacks and..."

He may not be able to eat, but his eyes light up with the other possibility suggested:

"...Queries."

<Pose Tracker> Ida Everstead-Rey has posed.

    Ida takes Liath's words in, pores over them. To love something, despite its flaws--that's a lesson Ida's had to learn, herself. Despite everything she's done--despite everything she just told Azoth--she never stopped being worthy of love. And she never truly lost that spark of hope, even she thought it was gone forever. "Wise words, Lady Liath," Ida says. "As always." She pauses a beat, turns to Azoth. His assertion would seem ridiculous if she didn't know what he was. "It's a difficult, delicate balance," Ida says, in response to the comment about helping Hellions. "Take care of yourself, as well as them. Remember that Hellions must want to be cleansed--if their mind is intact, the issue cannot be forced."

    A longer pause, as Liath and Azoth bring up different angles of Ida's worries. "...So much of me has been decided by other people," she murmurs. "I just--the thought of--" Pause. Breathe. They can talk about that later, when it's not quite so raw-feeling.

    Liath has a good suggestion.

    "I'd like that," Ida says. "I can show you some of the good ones. I don't know about the Hydro Melons, though..."