[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

3

[pointofhonoria]

It's not that Crabb hasn't noticed the statue. She has. She walked down the promenade plenty in the last month since it arrived. She has not, however, actually taken enough note of it to realise what statue it is.

Which is how you end up with a Crabb that's staring up at Murderbot climbing the statue looking doubly dumbfounded, first by wondering what the Hell Murderbot is up to climbing the thing in the first place, second by taking note of the damn statue's familiar face.

"...I have so many questions and only one of 'em you can answer. What're you doin' up there?"

[serialskiller]

"Climbing." Look, look, did she really expect a better answer than that?

[pointofhonoria]

"...yeah I asked for that one, didn't I. Alright, why are you climbing Quincy?"

Beat. She makes a noise between a groan and a laugh, scrubbing a hand down her face.

"Talk about sentences I would never even have thought about to expect never to say 'em..."

[serialskiller]

"Because I wanted to see if I could."

It likes to be tall. Look, it doesn't know who Quincy is, that's utterly beside the point.

"Do you wanna try to climb him too?"

[pointofhonoria]

"...yeah, can't argue with that either." She scratches the back of her neck, looking the statue over again. Christ, this is weird. "Not sure I'm that good a climber. I've done some bloody risky crap but that's usually more, uh, Bastrop's thing. Are there even good footholds? Looks real... y'know. Smooth."

[serialskiller]

"The wrinkles in his clothing are decent, though at your height it may be a little more difficult."

It's not trying to call her short, but it kinda-sorta is.

[pointofhonoria]

Crabb gives it a Look, crossing her arms loosely. "Hey, not everyone can be a bleedin'— six foot whatever giant, y'know. Didn't have people my height and you'd all miss things right below your noses."

Welcome to her actually trying that whole 'start over and just talk to Murderbot like she would anyone else' thing. The attitude is a feature not a bug.

She gives the base of the thing a kick with her foot, looking up again to map out what it's talking about with the wrinkles. She's pretty strong at least, so maybe...

[serialskiller]

"Oh, I'm sorry, I can't hear you from up here." Is it actually smiling at that jab? Yes, yes it is, But also, it's moving along the shoulder to where it can reach down and offer her a hand up, once she's high enough.

[pointofhonoria]

"Yeah well maybe you need better ears," said as she gives in and climbs up onto the base, which is of course the easy part.

Falling off a statue of Quincy Goddamn Monmouth would be the stupidest possible way to add a new tally to her death count, but she supposes if it comes to that it'd at least be kinda funny...

Boat logic at its finest, really. She shakes her head at herself and starts trying to climb up the statue, for which the upper body strength certainly does come in handy.

[serialskiller]

"Not my fault your voice is shrill enough to be supersonic." This is somehow the least awkward conversation they've had, huh?

[pointofhonoria]

Somehow, it really is. "Shrill? Y'know, that's a new one. Points for not going for some accent comment, that's the lazy option."

Interrupted every few words by a grunt as she climbs the goddamn statue. She pauses for a moment when she's secure with the sash as a foothold, the dip of his vest as a handhold, before moving to pull herself up towards the shoulder.

[serialskiller]

"Everyone has accents to me, I'm not from Earth." What, had you been imagining it as American? British? It's not even speaking English, but Corporate Rim Tradespeak.

Again, it offers its hand once she's in reach.

[pointofhonoria]

"Everyone has accents to everyone except the folks with the same, don't stop them making comments."

She takes the hand once she's actually up there and with a last grunt drags herself up to join it, heaving a breath as she does.

"Right, well, okay, managed that. Getting down might be the real issue." She looks around. "Real different view of the Promenade from up here..."

[serialskiller]

"Heart of the ship. In some ways, I think the Promenade drives us more than the pretend engines do."

It waves lazily at someone across the Promenade from them.

[pointofhonoria]

"Interesting way of puttin' it, but can't say you're wrong. Backbone of the place, heart of it... we do all spends so much time down here, never seems empty. Closest thing to walking down a street back in Gallery that you can really get around here."

It's alive. People flit in and out. Grab drinks and food and bits and bobs. Talk and walk and live their lives. It does feel a little different than the other decks with less, now she thinks about it.

[serialskiller]

"Like the public area of a space station or transport hub." Closest equivalent it knows. There are no streets to walk in space. But it's agreeing, not arguing, almost fond of the area and those passing through. "I get this kind of view often with my drones. It's different with eyes, though."

[pointofhonoria]

"I'd reckon so. All things gotta be different in person. And, well, with your own eyes you got your nose to filter out."

Crabb might be being a bit of a harmless shit, still. It's got the same facial structure as any human, does the mechanical part of its brain compensate enough that it won't suddenly become aware of its own nose, or does it get to suffer that stupid little flaw of the humanoid condition too?

"You must see a lot with those things, the way you have 'em flitting about all the time. Far more than the rest of us, day to day."

[serialskiller]

Yes, it does briefly go cross-eyed, looking at its nose.

"Only what anyone else could see in public spaces if they were there. I'm not being nosy about private matters or anything."

[pointofhonoria]

"Didn't reckon you were. You're keepin' an eye more than anything, right? But it gives you a whole different perspective on this place, I'd bet. Seeing it like that."

More of a complete picture than anyone else can get with just one set of eyes and ears. It's just... interesting to her, in a way.