[ Of course she doesn't mind. Lucina does prepare herself to tell a streamlined version of the truth, though. He knows some broad strokes - decay, the abolition of art and culture - but going into too much detail when she's feeling, uh, compromised by allergies... Well, it would just be too much for her right now. ]
My father was - apologies, he is - the Exalt of our nation, Ylisse. I suppose king may be a more familiar term. He inherited the stewardship of the ruling house at a young age.
As his heir, I have numerous responsibilities.
[ There. Neat, tidy. No mention of time travel or undead wearing the face of their soldiers. Not a single word about her babyself.
[Neat and tidy, indeed, and unfortunately, Connor knows nothing of her situation except what she’s just told him. Has nothing to infer that there might be more to her life than what the duties of someone who’s basically royalty might imply. Fair enough, as far as that’s concerned.
Except…]
I imagine the responsibilities are numerous for one of your position.
[Except. He does remember their first meeting; hard to forget a lingering first impression much like that one.]
Not to mention what I can only assume are perceived problems concerning the… undead?
[To accentuate this polite-bluntness that is part and parcel of who Connor is, he walks forward and places the steaming tea neatly in front of her There ya go, Lucina.]
[ Damn him and his exacting memory! Well, Lucina isn't quite so condemning with it, in truth - she turns her exasperation inward. It's her own fault for making such a slip in the first place. Looking slightly ill at ease, she doesn't reach for the tea quite yet. ]
That is not a battle I need to fight any longer.
[ The rasp in her voice only grows the more she speaks. By now, the coughs are hiccuping their way out of her chest whether she allows them or not. ]
[A moment of silence, and when met with an obvious declaration of “I don’t want to talk about it”, Connor won’t push the subject. He only pries if the other lets him, or they aren't blunt about an avenue of conversation that they’d rather not traverse.
So, then, an apology flits up in the operations of his mind.]
Sorry. I wasn’t trying to make you uncomfortable.
[Connor gestures a little at the empty seat across from her, his tone laced with something apologetic.]
May I sit with you?
Sorry for the delay! I was having internet trouble.
[ Lucina straightens a bit. Connor's curiosity is not something to condemn him for, certainly - and she had not intended her words to come out quite so withering. It had simply contributed to the fog in her head and the dry moss in her throat that she can't swallow her way around. Rather than address his apology, she tries to push forward, to let him know she isn't offended. ]
Of course you may. I'd be -
[ cough ]
I -
[ cough wheeze cough oH GODS IT'S ALIVE ]
I'd be glad of -
[ did we mention she's fucking coughing
By now, it seems that the mere act of opening her mouth exacerbates whatever is irritating her windpipes to the point of trying to evacuate themselves. Instead of finishing her sentence, Lucina gives up and reaches for her tea. A few steady gulps to warm her throat and flush her cheeks, and - oh! It's delicious! ]
...Sorry.
MY TURN TO APOLOGIZE i lost this notif?? i'm so sorry
[Connor sits when permission has been given, and he's ready to listen to what she has to say... when the coughing fit rears its ugly head.
He wants to suggest that she drink her tea when she beats him to it. Connor is patient, though his brow is furrowed with clear concern, when he finally speaks.]
Don't apologize but... that cough doesn't sound very tame. I suggest that you take the remainder of the day to rest.
[ - don't need to rest, she's about to say... but reconsiders at the last second. The protest dies on her tongue, as it should. Her paranoia that something untoward will occur the moment she closes her eyes is unfounded here. ]
I will. Once I'm finished my tea.
[ She'll - she'll use the weapon of sleep to vanquish this ostensible illness! Yeah. ]
Are you able to fall ill? You seem remarkably steady in comparison to everyone else.
[Better than her walking around and getting worse! Rest will strengthen her body to fight back whatever’s at her heels — he just hopes it’ll be enough.
Her reply is acceptable, at least, seen in the way his shoulders relax. He nods, glad for it, then tends to her question.]
No. At least, I never have been sick; it’s hard to say what rules apply in this world, or any of the others that we visit, but a synthetic creation like myself can’t house illness.
That's how it was back in Detroit. The case seems similar here.
[ "Synthetic creation," he says, in reference to himself; Lucina's eyes widen for a brief second before settling back to their usual size. She may be reaching the point where she just isn't questioning how he self-describes just because it doesn't make sense to her.
Just kidding, she may never get to that point. ]
I don't understand. You refer to yourself as synthetic, but -
[ He talks. He moves. He processes and interprets information in real time and interacts with the world around him. She can't quite put it in such neat terms, but her argument is largely the same. He talks about himself like a product but behaves like a realised individual. ]
...You do not seem like it to me.
Connor, are you sure you're not mistaken?
[ She takes a sip of tea, coughs while doing so, sputters it back up, and sighs. ]
[Mistaken? He's never been asked that before. Because, well, he's pretty darn sure he's an android and not an organic being. Lucina, he doesn't need another existential crisis on his plate.]
Why would I be mistaken? I know what I am. Maybe I don't fully understand the question?
[No judgment on the tea sputtering. Take your time, girl, you need that for your throat.]
[ In Connor's defense, the question is a rather idiotic and rude one. Thinking he's mistaken about his own identity because she cannot process the fact of him? Check your privilege, Lucina. ]
It's only -
[ another small sip, to wet her throat and soothe the hoarseness of her voice ]
- where I come from, only vile magic can give sentience to...
[ ...synthetic objects.
At the last second, she refuses to refer to him that way, biting down on the end of her sentence and cutting it off at the quick. At least she isn't thinking of him along the same lines as the Risen anymore! Congratulations on your upgrade: from zombie to item. ]
[Connor isn't offended, at least, just vaguely confused. But at least item is an upgrade! Maybe one day they'll even manage person, in which Lucina will see him as more than he sees himself. Womp.]
'Vile magic'?
[He can fill in the blanks. Something inorganic, something that was worth almost pulling a blade on, when they first met.]
I think... that maybe perhaps you need to perceive me as something different than what your experiences dictate. Magic had nothing to do with my own creation, only human ingenuity.
[ Technically, Lucina could argue that human ingenuity is the origin point of foul magic... but she does take his meaning. ]
Alright.
[ Her voice croaks across the word. She dampens her throat with more tea before continuing - ]
How should I think of you, Connor?
[ It's an evenly stated question. She's leaving it entirely in his hands, probably. If he decides he wants to identify as unicornkin, now is the time. ]
[Well. Here's the issue with Connor, and he even told Hank something similar (though the man doesn't remember): he is whatever others make him out to be. A machine, an individual, or just a tool to be used, in order to achieve a purpose. He has no agency over his own identity, or so he believes.
[ Connor, that is too much responsibility for her! Lucina inhales softly - her angry, swollen throat protesting the gesture - as she mulls over her reply. ]
...
As a friend.
[ It doesn't take that much thought, in the end. ]
[ Her smiles are not quite the rare things they used to be but their presence is still something not insignificant, leaving her face looking a little younger and graceful than it might otherwise - or, just as accurately, leaving her looking as young as she is. ]
I'm glad to hear of it.
[ it, uh, it doesn't really settle her crisis about his existence but whatever
she'll deal, that's what princesses do ]
I suppose I should go lie down before I risk infecting you. [ Just go with it. ] You'll return the bracelet to me once it is functional?
[Designed as he is, looks don’t get past Connor, significant or otherwise. Her smile seems to be a novelty, easing her usual serious features. His smile remains, as if to encourage it, to make certain it doesn’t fade quickly — gladness always pings as positive, and positive experiences and associations are what any human would prefer, in the end.
He nods, succinctly.]
Of course. Don’t let me keep you. Just promise to not push yourself too hard.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
My father was - apologies, he is - the Exalt of our nation, Ylisse. I suppose king may be a more familiar term. He inherited the stewardship of the ruling house at a young age.
As his heir, I have numerous responsibilities.
[ There. Neat, tidy. No mention of time travel or undead wearing the face of their soldiers. Not a single word about her babyself.
As they say, ka-kow. ]
no subject
Except…]
I imagine the responsibilities are numerous for one of your position.
[Except. He does remember their first meeting; hard to forget a lingering first impression much like that one.]
Not to mention what I can only assume are perceived problems concerning the… undead?
[To accentuate this polite-bluntness that is part and parcel of who Connor is, he walks forward and places the steaming tea neatly in front of her There ya go, Lucina.]
no subject
That is not a battle I need to fight any longer.
[ The rasp in her voice only grows the more she speaks. By now, the coughs are hiccuping their way out of her chest whether she allows them or not. ]
Can we not leave it at that?
no subject
So, then, an apology flits up in the operations of his mind.]
Sorry. I wasn’t trying to make you uncomfortable.
[Connor gestures a little at the empty seat across from her, his tone laced with something apologetic.]
May I sit with you?
Sorry for the delay! I was having internet trouble.
Of course you may. I'd be -
[ cough ]
I -
[ cough wheeze cough oH GODS IT'S ALIVE ]
I'd be glad of -
[ did we mention she's fucking coughing
By now, it seems that the mere act of opening her mouth exacerbates whatever is irritating her windpipes to the point of trying to evacuate themselves. Instead of finishing her sentence, Lucina gives up and reaches for her tea. A few steady gulps to warm her throat and flush her cheeks, and - oh! It's delicious! ]
...Sorry.
MY TURN TO APOLOGIZE i lost this notif?? i'm so sorry
He wants to suggest that she drink her tea when she beats him to it. Connor is patient, though his brow is furrowed with clear concern, when he finally speaks.]
Don't apologize but... that cough doesn't sound very tame. I suggest that you take the remainder of the day to rest.
inexcusable tbh
[ - don't need to rest, she's about to say... but reconsiders at the last second. The protest dies on her tongue, as it should. Her paranoia that something untoward will occur the moment she closes her eyes is unfounded here. ]
I will. Once I'm finished my tea.
[ She'll - she'll use the weapon of sleep to vanquish this ostensible illness! Yeah. ]
Are you able to fall ill? You seem remarkably steady in comparison to everyone else.
;-;
Her reply is acceptable, at least, seen in the way his shoulders relax. He nods, glad for it, then tends to her question.]
No. At least, I never have been sick; it’s hard to say what rules apply in this world, or any of the others that we visit, but a synthetic creation like myself can’t house illness.
That's how it was back in Detroit. The case seems similar here.
❤
Just kidding, she may never get to that point. ]
I don't understand. You refer to yourself as synthetic, but -
[ He talks. He moves. He processes and interprets information in real time and interacts with the world around him. She can't quite put it in such neat terms, but her argument is largely the same. He talks about himself like a product but behaves like a realised individual. ]
...You do not seem like it to me.
Connor, are you sure you're not mistaken?
[ She takes a sip of tea, coughs while doing so, sputters it back up, and sighs. ]
no subject
[Mistaken? He's never been asked that before. Because, well, he's pretty darn sure he's an android and not an organic being. Lucina, he doesn't need another existential crisis on his plate.]
Why would I be mistaken? I know what I am. Maybe I don't fully understand the question?
[No judgment on the tea sputtering. Take your time, girl, you need that for your throat.]
no subject
It's only -
[ another small sip, to wet her throat and soothe the hoarseness of her voice ]
- where I come from, only vile magic can give sentience to...
[ ...synthetic objects.
At the last second, she refuses to refer to him that way, biting down on the end of her sentence and cutting it off at the quick. At least she isn't thinking of him along the same lines as the Risen anymore! Congratulations on your upgrade: from zombie to item. ]
no subject
'Vile magic'?
[He can fill in the blanks. Something inorganic, something that was worth almost pulling a blade on, when they first met.]
I think... that maybe perhaps you need to perceive me as something different than what your experiences dictate. Magic had nothing to do with my own creation, only human ingenuity.
no subject
Alright.
[ Her voice croaks across the word. She dampens her throat with more tea before continuing - ]
How should I think of you, Connor?
[ It's an evenly stated question. She's leaving it entirely in his hands, probably. If he decides he wants to identify as unicornkin, now is the time. ]
no subject
Thanks, CyberLife. Thanks, Amanda.]
How do you prefer to think of me?
[He says it with a faint smile.]
no subject
...
As a friend.
[ It doesn't take that much thought, in the end. ]
no subject
Hard to know how to parse that, until it isn’t. That he has more than a few here who would call him a friend, and so why should he deny them of that?]
I see.
[He thinks he may be glad for it, though.]
Then that’s how you should view me. As your friend — simple enough.
no subject
I'm glad to hear of it.
[ it, uh, it doesn't really settle her crisis about his existence but whatever
she'll deal, that's what princesses do ]
I suppose I should go lie down before I risk infecting you. [ Just go with it. ] You'll return the bracelet to me once it is functional?
no subject
He nods, succinctly.]
Of course. Don’t let me keep you. Just promise to not push yourself too hard.
I’ll find you when there’s news about your watch.