[She bristles as he trails off, huffing a bit as she darted her gaze away.] I'm not an Artificial Intelligence. I'm alive.
[She is. She's not some construct! She's real and living. ...just not all of her.]
I wasn't always like this. [She lifts up her full mechanical arm, the robotic fingers clenched in a fist.] My father would replace a part of my body with a piece of machinery every time I failed him or my sister would best me in battle.
i felt so bad bombarding you with like 17868726 comments omg
[ Bellamy's eyes follow the movement of her hand, the angles of her wrist, the metal in her fingers; fascinated, despite himself. ]
I— saw. Some of it happening. Your dreams. [ He shrugs a shoulder, sheepish; unsure if he should've admitted to that at all, but swallowing it and lying by omission had felt worse. Once he realises the reality of what the woman's just said, though, his mouth purses into a thin, mortified line. What the fuck. ]
[She glances away at the mention of her dream. The fact that her dream had been broadcast for someone else to see upset her, but she'd no outlet for that anger. Unless she wanted to take to attacking the ship itself.]
Adoptive father. He stole me off my planet as a child after he murdered half the population, my real parents included.
[ He'd thought it was torture — it had, in fact, looked like torture. It casts things into ugly perspective. The worst thing his own father had done was abandon the result of his tryst, and simply not ever be around. ]
Who the hell pits siblings against each other like that?
A monster who is trying to create more monsters. [In his twisted way, Thanos surely thought he was doing it for their benefit. To make them stronger.] And that's what I became. I hurt and killed right alongside him. All so he might praise me, just once.
People can— do a lot, searching for something like that. Doing things for the people we love, or think we love.
[ He'd made a lot of mistakes, too, at the right hand of an ill-advised paternal figure. Thinking he'd been doing the right thing. Bellamy glances down at his mug, takes another thoughtful sip of the tea. That ridiculous empathy bond, the lines between people blurring, was such a shortcut to getting into other people's skulls, to battering down the walls between them. He wonders if she's bitter about someone else getting that unsolicited glimpse into her head.
Shifting the mug to his off-hand, the man holds out the other one for a handshake. Polite, when he wants to be, even if skin-to-skin touch might spark another flare of empathy. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
glad to see you got the technical difficulty worked out!
[She is. She's not some construct! She's real and living.
...just not all of her.]
I wasn't always like this. [She lifts up her full mechanical arm, the robotic fingers clenched in a fist.] My father would replace a part of my body with a piece of machinery every time I failed him or my sister would best me in battle.
i felt so bad bombarding you with like 17868726 comments omg
I— saw. Some of it happening. Your dreams. [ He shrugs a shoulder, sheepish; unsure if he should've admitted to that at all, but swallowing it and lying by omission had felt worse. Once he realises the reality of what the woman's just said, though, his mouth purses into a thin, mortified line. What the fuck. ]
Your father did that to you?
that's alright! lmao
Adoptive father. He stole me off my planet as a child after he murdered half the population, my real parents included.
no subject
[ He'd thought it was torture — it had, in fact, looked like torture. It casts things into ugly perspective. The worst thing his own father had done was abandon the result of his tryst, and simply not ever be around. ]
Who the hell pits siblings against each other like that?
no subject
feel free 2 ignore if this is too old!!
[ He'd made a lot of mistakes, too, at the right hand of an ill-advised paternal figure. Thinking he'd been doing the right thing. Bellamy glances down at his mug, takes another thoughtful sip of the tea. That ridiculous empathy bond, the lines between people blurring, was such a shortcut to getting into other people's skulls, to battering down the walls between them. He wonders if she's bitter about someone else getting that unsolicited glimpse into her head.
Shifting the mug to his off-hand, the man holds out the other one for a handshake. Polite, when he wants to be, even if skin-to-skin touch might spark another flare of empathy. ]
I'm Bellamy, by the way.