[Is this a strange creature? A substance? The way she thrashes and coalesces reminds Thanatos of Shadows, the formless ones in Tartarus before they are provoked into a certain form. But he’s certain that this is no Shadow — at least, not one that is from his own world, in the way that Thanatos feels no connection towards her.
Still, her garbles grow distinct, and that is how he knows this is a sentient form. One of the Chosen, then, and the target of his mission. There is no way he can leave her alone in her misery.
Thanatos tries to think of a way to get her to calm down, to say soothing words, but finally he understands the sounds that she screeches.]
[Slowly, the shadows around A2 solidify into what looks like the silhouette of a female form. The glowing lettering painted across her skin ceases its frenetic movement, and she studies the being in front of her with eyes that glow like lantern lights.
Was this thing a machine? She couldn't be sure, and without her weapon (where had it gone?) she was at a disadvantage. But the fact that it could understand her seems to give her pause. Still, she is clearly looking for an escape — her is posture tense and harried.]
The machines! They have to be responsible — I have to stop them! Who are you? Are you working for them?
[The chains surrounding Thanatos rattles as he moves his hands, coffins shiftying away from A2’s direction. If she’s communicating, then there must be some hope to an agreement, yes?]
I’m not a machine! I’m what you call a Shadow. I’m not sure if you’re a Shadow too, but we’re not enemies.
[He does wonder about those machines that she has been talking about — does she mean the simulation that they are trapped in, or something else? He doesn’t know the cause of the madness this time, but any clue to stopping the transformations would be helpful at this point.]
[She takes a cautious step back, then another. Escape was all she was thinking of — getting out of this machine's trap. This "simulation." How could she be sure that this creature wasn't lying to her? That all of this wasn't another form of torment. Punishment for destroying so many of the machines.
It's so hard to think... hard to move in the way she's used to, hard to remember the steps that had led her here. Distressed, she clutches her head.]
The machines, they... they put me here! [Yes, this made sense to her. What else could this place be?] They created all of this — this lie!
[For all that his tone is calm and even, his words soothing, it does nothing to alleviate the panic and paranoid terror that had grown in her since arriving here, now left to fester in her heart, thanks to the influence of the magic that had changed her.
She had to get out. She had to escape — this illusion, this fake machine world, now that it had fallen apart at last, the tenuous peace snapped like fragile cable. She couldn't bear it. Not again.
She would rather die fighting than be a machine's plaything again.
Her right arm loses its solidity, becomes like dark water that drips, drips, coalesces until it forms a blade of pure shadow that she grips for dear life. The light in her eyes dulls to embers.]
You're just trying- trying to trick me. Like everyone else! Get out of my way, or I'll make you move.
no subject
Still, her garbles grow distinct, and that is how he knows this is a sentient form. One of the Chosen, then, and the target of his mission. There is no way he can leave her alone in her misery.
Thanatos tries to think of a way to get her to calm down, to say soothing words, but finally he understands the sounds that she screeches.]
Them? Who’s them?
no subject
Was this thing a machine? She couldn't be sure, and without her weapon (where had it gone?) she was at a disadvantage. But the fact that it could understand her seems to give her pause. Still, she is clearly looking for an escape — her is posture tense and harried.]
The machines! They have to be responsible — I have to stop them! Who are you? Are you working for them?
no subject
I’m not a machine! I’m what you call a Shadow. I’m not sure if you’re a Shadow too, but we’re not enemies.
[He does wonder about those machines that she has been talking about — does she mean the simulation that they are trapped in, or something else? He doesn’t know the cause of the madness this time, but any clue to stopping the transformations would be helpful at this point.]
Who are these machines you speak of?
no subject
It's so hard to think... hard to move in the way she's used to, hard to remember the steps that had led her here. Distressed, she clutches her head.]
The machines, they... they put me here! [Yes, this made sense to her. What else could this place be?] They created all of this — this lie!
no subject
Yes, and we’ll find a way out of this. One day.
[Thanatos matches his rhythm. A step forward to counter hers. A hand to reach out to her prone form.]
But running wild wouldn’t help. You wouldn’t find the machines by thrashing around.
no subject
She had to get out. She had to escape — this illusion, this fake machine world, now that it had fallen apart at last, the tenuous peace snapped like fragile cable. She couldn't bear it. Not again.
She would rather die fighting than be a machine's plaything again.
Her right arm loses its solidity, becomes like dark water that drips, drips, coalesces until it forms a blade of pure shadow that she grips for dear life. The light in her eyes dulls to embers.]
You're just trying- trying to trick me. Like everyone else! Get out of my way, or I'll make you move.