SecUnit (Murderbot) (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
serialskiller) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
come_sailaway2022-12-02 04:35 am
serialskiller) wrote in come_sailaway2022-12-02 04:35 am
[OPEN LOG] I've a heart of gold in the smallest size
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]
![[plurk.com profile]](https://plurk.com/favicon.ico)
darkersolstice or darkersolstice #9463 to plot
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]
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It feels quaint, he doesn't say. When Shi Qingxuan relays all this it, it becomes just a silly anecdote instead of a continuous reality.
But, since SecUnit copied him, now Shi Qingxuan is curious as well.
"So, how do you usually greet people? Is it similar?"
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The new knowledge leaves him momentarily quiet, and his eyes travel down to the shirt that's been laid down as well.
"This must be an even bigger change for you than it's been for me," he replies softly.
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It shrugs slightly. “What part is the hardest for you?”
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"That's difficult to answer..." he trails off. "There's nothing here that's normal, but I can forget about that and go along with it. The hardest part would have to be the underworld that's attached to this place..."
Yeah.
But, he picks himself back up from that low place he shoved himself down to by asking, "Have you ever experienced it?"
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"Then I hope you never do. Dying is already bad, but that place isn't something anyone should experience. The afterlife shouldn't be like that," he says with conviction. "Out of everything, that's one thing I can't accept."
A pause, then:
"Beyond that, I'd say the second hardest thing to adjust to would be my roommate."
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"I see..." he looks down at the tools, but they aren't recognizable to him. "Were the two of you friends...?"
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It isn’t sure how it should feel about her now, honestly.
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Shi Qingxuan sighs. "She sounds like my own roommate..."
...
"Were you going to stay here a little longer? I was planning to give my respects to the former passengers myself while I was here."
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It steps aside so Shi Qingxuan can do whatever he'd like to at the memorial, and so it can watch.
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As he knelt before the monument, he drew the paper crafts from the folds of his shirt and set them before it. They weren't the most faithful replicas, but he had folded the paper to approximate the shape of the phones, and had used ink to paint on the details of their screens.
While his hands busied themselves with arranging them, he turned the question back on it, "What was your roommate's name?"
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It wonders if the nuances of that name translate, or if it's merely word-sounds.
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That, and he's heard that name before. A strange look comes across his face, and his actions halt with his hands hovering over his crafts.
Slowly, he pulls them back to rest on his lap.
"I remember hearing about her before, but I never met her. She sounds like she was the bold and tenacious type."