[OPEN LOG] I've a heart of gold in the smallest size

[serialskiller]

Who: Murderbot and y'all
When: Early December
Summary: My normal approach is useless here.
Warnings: Squishy things like bot emotions. Also risk of fall damage.

1. More than an illustration [About Anywhere]
Murderbot's gotten pretty good at painting landscapes, thanks to Bob Ross, but now it's stepping out of that comfort zone and trying to sketch people. Well. Parts of people. The way a ponytail falls over a shoulder, but without a face. An incomplete hand with tidy nails, gripping onto some sort of pole or cane. A single shoe, a black leather mary jane. An individual eye. A man's mustache and nose. Hair in a braid. What is unmistakeably Max's knee, smoldering after being shot.

It doesn't seem satisfied with any of it, though the renderings are detailed and very photorealistic. After all, its mind's eye is a literal camera. Of course it registers every detail. But as it rips out a page and crumples it up to toss away, it happens to hit the nearest person with the paper ball instead.


2. Points of articulation [The Memorial]
There's a sweatshirt Murderbot received as a Sundries gift months ago that it's never worn in public. And never will now. Near everything else people have set up, Murderbot folds the shirt so the number 57 on the back, like the numbers on the back of a sports jersey, are visible, and sets it out with everything else.

Yeah, this memorial was originally meant for previous passengers, but there's nowhere else for it to properly...you know.

"And you got the number wrong anyway, dumbass. Sixty-one. It was sixty-one. They counted too."

Beside that, he also sets some of Jinx's tools and half-finished creations, and then turns to slip away before anyone notices it was here.

...oops, too late.


3. Come to life on a brass spring [Promenade]
Look, the new brass statue in the Promenade is weird and Murderbot is climbing it. That's it, that's the prompt. Come bother it?


X. Such a wonderful plaything [Wildcard]
darkersolstice or darkersolstice #9463 to plot

Comments

1.

[light_mischief]

"Ah, just shy of the trash." October trained Skulduggery to pick up trash so here he is, picking up the paper. "Unless you were aiming for me. In that case, great shot."

[serialskiller]

"No, I was not aiming for you. I did not want you to see that. That is not for you and you really should just leave it alone."

It's already bracing for what happens when Skully looks at it.

[light_mischief]

Well, damn, he was already uncrumpling it to have a look. He catches a few random pieces -- a recognizable braid, an unrecognizable but somehow familiar mechanical joint -- before he lowers the paper from his gaze, crumpling the edges further.

"Sorry." At least he's willing to own up to peeping. "I didn't realize you were throwing something deeply personal onto the floor. Don't worry, I only saw a bit of Jinx." And Max's knee, but he's only seen those once, before he went mad.

[serialskiller]

"It's not personal, it's just." Huff-puff. "Okay, maybe it is personal, but Jinx is gone anyway. And the rest of it...it all sucks."

[light_mischief]

"I noticed that." Jinx was always hard to miss. He's almost positive he saw Max wandering around with her guns, too...

"I think sucks is a bit strong, though." He lifts the paper again, since now he knows it's likely more embarrassed than actively upset. "Sure, if you were trying for impressionism, but as far as realism goes, you've nailed it."

[serialskiller]

"What's impressionism?"

Someone's sole art education has been Bob Ross.

[light_mischief]

Well, he's no art history major but he'll try.

"It's a style of painting where the details don't matter so much as the form. Broad brushstrokes, focusing more on getting the impression of a scene down instead of the details." He's trying to remember any books he might've seen with impressionist artwork on the covers... "Monet's pieces are very bright. Lots of colors, especially primary ones."

[serialskiller]

"It sounds...imprecise." That doesn't seem to be a compliment. "The details are what matter the most."

[light_mischief]

"Not all art is precise. Sometimes, the details that are being conveyed are more... abstract. They're more about the feeling of a moment. The way the light hits the water, or the way a tree looks against the sky."

[serialskiller]

"Ew, feelings."

It's hard to tell to what degree Murderbot's joking this time. Its face is doing something opaque, but its shoulders tense.

[light_mischief]

"Indeed. Ew, feelings." Skulduggery's own tone is light. "But feeling isn't always emotion. The one I keep imagining is -- it's a dark scene of a boat on the water, with the faintest hint of industrialization on the shoreline. You can't see the buildings, but there are impressions of smoke billowing up from the workhouses; the sky is a muddy sort of black, and the smog is so thick the sun comes out blood red. And when you look at it, you can feel how cold the air must be, of what it might've smelled like."

It's a little odd to be nostalgic about the mid-1800s and the absolute disregard for environmental standards, but here he is.

"The fact that the people are merely shapes on the river, or that you can't differentiate one building from the next, doesn't matter so much as the feeling of cold water and the smell of coal."

[serialskiller]

What Skulduggery's describing resonates against Murderbot trying to describe a planet to Helena where it had been leased out by a survey team. The feeling, the sense of isolation and strangeness.

It glances off to one side quietly for a moment.

"I think I understand." It almost sounds reluctant to admit that. Because there are feelings-as-emotions involved somewhere in there.

[light_mischief]

Skulduggery comes up beside Rin, setting the paper down for it. "If you don't a bit of interrogation... you seem unhappy that you understand."

[serialskiller]

"I tried to describe a planet I'd been to, to someone who couldn't see my paintings, recently. It felt like I was fumbling with my words, trying to convey everything to her. I wanted her to understand. Sometimes I miss being able to drop video and audio directly into people's feeds. But even that wouldn't have communicated how it felt, being there. I don't know how to do that. I wanted to give her the fullest understanding possible."

[light_mischief]

"It takes practice. And there'll always be things you can't quite... put into words." Which is where art comes into play. "Do you think you could articulate what was such a challenge?"

[serialskiller]

“No. I can’t even explain why it was important to me to share with her.”

Except that it can and it doesn’t want to confront the matter directly, as usual.

[light_mischief]

Hmmm...

"I think it's fairly normal for people to want to share their experiences with others. Especially ones we have fond feelings about, and even if they're frustratingly difficult to articulate."

[serialskiller]

“People we have fond feelings about or experiences we have fond feelings about?”

Yes, even asking that question feels dangerous.

[light_mischief]

"Huh." Making him think about his own words! "Well, I meant the experiences, but we usually want to share them with people we care for."

[serialskiller]

“Usually, huh.”

It glances quietly at Skulduggery, then down at its drawings again. It knows it’s being a pain in the ass.

[light_mischief]

Thankfully, Skulduggery is entirely too used to pains in the ass. He's literally dating one.

"Yep." Pops the "p" and everything, crossing his arms over his chest. "Strangers and acquaintances don't need to know how a particular sunset affected you, but a close friend might be able to glean something special from it."

[serialskiller]

"There is no useful metric for the closeness of a friend. How can you tell when one is..." special "...different? Or that they're going to..." stick around "...remain relevant in the calculations?"

[light_mischief]

"It can be tricky, and I'm afraid it involves the dreaded 'f' word. They'll... make you feel safe, I suppose. Sharing things with them will come naturally, and the more you share, the more comfortable you'll be with them."

There's no good answer to the second question, though; just the truth. "There's a great deal of trust involved. Some people will stay with you for the long haul; others will go their own way. What really matters is the time you do spend with them. No matter how briefly they touch your life, as long as they've improved it, it's usually worth the pain."

[serialskiller]

"Safe."

There's initially a bit of a scoff contained in that word, and then its expression shifts to something pensive, as it thinks about falling asleep on the pool deck at night while a blind girl listens for approaching footsteps. And about another girl falling asleep on its shoulder during the teen party. And who the first person it told Jinx was gone was, and why. And a young fella who called it their best friend, not asking questions when asked to sit in front of it, facing away, so it can give him a hug with absolutely no risk of eye contact.

There's a shuddery slow exhalation. It is very, very much having a feeling. One that makes its eyes sting until it scrubs at them with the back of its wrist.

[light_mischief]

Ah. Yes. That's... part of big feelings, isn't it?

Skulduggery knows that touch and eye contact aren't the way to go here, not with Rin, so he only takes a step or two closer to indicate that he isn't running at the first sign of tears. He may not be very good at dealing with his own emotions, but tolerating other people's has become nearly painless. It's just a matter of figuring out what they need.

"Tell me if you need anything other than this." Being present is usually a baseline requirement, but that might be all Rin can tolerate.