227/I Feel Different

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I Feel Different
Date of Scene: 30 April 2017
Location: Unknown
Synopsis: Summary needed
Cast of Characters: Indigo, Angela




Indigo has posed:
    The meal Indigo made for Angela sits, still warm but neglected, on Angela's nightstand. Its creator and the person it was meant to benefit are lying together in Angela's bed, pleasantly worn out and basking in the afterglow. Indigo is snuggled up against Angela, her dark blue hand reached across the angel to hold her pale pink one, acts that put a contented smile on the gynoid's cotton candy lips. She's watching Angela's face from a place of her chin propped on Angela's shoulder as she observes shyly in her electronic voice, "Thank you, Angela. I've never had an experience like that before. It... I feel different now. Like everything has changed, and is better."

Angela has posed:
She's not one to waste things. It's just not in her nature. It feels excessive and clumsy -- weak. But for right now? The food that Indigo prepared for her is far away from Angela's mind. Resting in that small cot of a bed in her bunk, the wingless angel is more focused on holding the gynoid against her, fingers threading quietly into her own as her white-eyed stare focuses upon a distant wall, lost in some distant thought. When Indigo speaks, Angela's stare strays towards her, watching her for several long, quiet moments. "Changed?" she wonders, voice quiet but still so very clear and direct. "I..." she hesitates for a moment, as if having a hard time finding the words to properly express herself. "... yes. Things seem... better."

Indigo has posed:
    Indigo smiles, kisses Angela's cheek, resumes her more passive cuddling position. "It's funny. I'm capable of performing four million computations per second and I have pretty much every word of every language programmed into my data banks, but the best I can do is 'everything feels better.'" She chuckles softly and squeezes Angela's hand. "I think it's...I think it's that my world felt smaller and colder without you in it, and now it feels bigger and warmer." She tilts her head to gently bump Angela's temple, like a cat giving an affectionate headbutt. "It's okay if you don't feel the same. How I feel is how I feel. It doesn't have to be how you feel. I like you as you are, Angela."

Angela has posed:
Bed creaking in faint protest of Angela's weight as she shifts herself just a bit to better focus her attention on Indigo, the assassin, despite herself, smiles just faintly at that brief kiss -- it lasts barely a second, but is there nonetheless, rare for how genuine it looks. Her head leaning against the gynoid's, her brows furrow inward, as if putting serious thought into Indigo's observations. "This realm is strange," she finally remarks, perhaps in a way that might seem blunt or critical. "You are strange. But..." She considers once more, lips drawing towards a thin line. "... that is... not a bad thing. Not for you." Curt as it is, it is still sincere -- and perhaps as close as the angel can get towards reciprocating those feelings Indigo is capable of expressing so openly.

Indigo has posed:
    Indigo is naive, but she's quickly learning to read between Angela's lines, and she smiles. She doesn't say anything else, though; that's another thing she's learning about Angela. Instead, she props herself up on one elbow and disentangles her hand from Angela's, reaching across the wingless angel for the bowl of sugar-boiled fruits that were meant to be dessert for the now-forgotten meal. She rests the bowl on Angela's stomach and pinches a pink slice of dulvon from the bowl. The flesh is soft and loose, but after being boiled, it always was. It's just cooler now than when the dish was originally served. She touches the fruit to Angela's lips, offering it as a snack. That can be all the expression of her feelings Indigo needs to make.

Angela has posed:
That simple acceptance is something Angela, too, is appreciative of. It makes the furrow of her brow unknot a little bit in rare relaxation, her white gaze softening as she watches Indigo pull away from her. Fingers slipping away, the wingless angel tilts her head to the side with confusion mixed with a healthy dose of curiosity. Her eyes track the gynoid until she finds the cool material of that bowl resting upon the warmth of her stomach; her eyes fluttering in a single, simple blink, she looks back at Indigo -- just in time for that fruit to be pressed to her lips. She watches in a way inscrutable enough that many might think it uncomprehending... and then her lips part tentatively, taking the fruit offered to quietly eat it.That sugary-sweetness is a surprise, but the huntress savors the flavor... even as she silently takes another of those fleshy fruits from the bowl to serve up to Indigo, tapping it upon her lower lip like an attempt to echo the gynoid's own gesture. A little stiffer... but no less a return of that quiet, private affection.

Indigo has posed:
    Indigo smiles encouragingly at Angela and squeezes the angel's shoulder with a hand only slightly sticky from fruit syrup, then opens her lips obediently and takes the fruit into her mouth, being careful when she closes it to brush her lips against Angela's fingertips in a flirtatious kiss. She giggles a little, the sound muffled by her mouthful of fruit, and she covers her mouth with her hand as she chews (but slowly: she's never actually eaten fruit before, and wants the experience to roll around on her tongue) until it's swallowed, when she observes with a grin, "You're just too cute, Angela. I think we're going to make the others just sick when they see how we act together."
    She's learning about Angela. She hasn't learned everything yet.

Angela has posed:
She can't help herself; that playful gesture makes the angel smile once more, looking so much more relaxed by the time her hand pulls away once more. She lets it rest on Indigo's waist, watching as the girl so slowly eats up that fruit. "It's good," she remarks. "Well made. I don't think there was anything quite like that in my home." Another rare little moment of opening up; it's one that trails away into open confusion when Indigo speaks next, lips pursing. "Cute?" she wonders, with some consternation that probably just serves to make her look all the more cute. "I'm not cute." She seems very insistent on this. Those final words, though, make her thoughts trail. Her hand strays from Indigo's hip, plucking up another one of those fruits.

"I am not..." she begins, voice hesitating briefly. "I am a warrior. Leader of the Hunt. It is who I am. I am not..." She considers, brows knotting up once more. "... that is my strength. Not this." No shame in her voice, nor embarrassment. She is proud of what she is -- she just knows her limitations, as well, even if she expresses herself so poorly.

Indigo has posed:
    Indigo raises up on one elbow again to looks down on you. If it was you in that position, your hair would be shrouding her face, but luckily, Indigo's hair is bobbed. Her eyes are solemn as she explains, "And I -love- your strength, Angela. I'd never take that from you, ever. But you're also the most beautiful woman I've ever known--" She doesn't get into the fact that she only has a week's worth of memories; let's not cheapen the gesture with semantics "--not because of your appearance but because of who you are and what you do. Your strength makes you cute to me. It makes you adorable, because I adore you." She smiles suddenly, brilliantly, and maybe Angela notices that Indigo, shy Indigo, held her gaze on Angela's eyes for that whole speech.

Angela has posed:
That eye contact is held, and despite how briefly Angela's known her fellow Guardian since she was taken aboard the Milano, it still strikes her in a way that shows, even subtly, in the way it etches itself across her features. As she looks up at the gynoid, silence permeates the bunk for a long stretch of time. She is still silent when she lifts her hand to take hold of the gynoid's arm to draw her down once more, setting aside that bowl of fruits so that she can guide Indigo to rest comfortably atop her -- so she can lift her hand to wordlessly draw her fingers through the woman's hair. "... I will accept that," she decides, in words that might not properly express how touched she is by the sentiment as much as the softening of her expression might, or the way she so fondly holds onto sweet, shy Indigo. "I am not... expressive, with my affections. Not in front of others. It is simply what I am." It's a rare bit of direct, emotional honesty from Angela -- and it only comes because of what she follows it up with, "So, if you will accept that, then as payment... I will accept that you think me adorable."

Perhaps most remarkable of all is the fact that she manages to make that barter with a straight face, and in the most emotionally honest way she'll ever be.

Indigo has posed:
    Indigo stretches out luxuriously atop Angela. The mood isn't right for another tumble in bed, but she can and does enjoy the feel of Angela's skin against her own, just as she wants Angela to enjoy the feeling. Her fingers rest lightly on Angela's shoulders, squeeze lightly on Angela's shoulders, massage lightly on Angela's shoulders as she affirms, "Agreed. In fact..." She dips her face down to kiss Angela sweetly, briefly, before lifting up. "I've written a subroutine to govern my behavior around you when we're in public. I'll be discreet. Okay?"

Angela has posed:
Things now are more serene. Relaxing. Perhaps not ideal for a tumult of broiling passions, but at the same time, Angela hasn't felt more at ease since she was torn from her home than she does right at this moment. Dense musculature relaxing underneath Indigo's touch, her wary defenses dropping for a sublimely rare moment, Angela holds Indigo against her, strong arms wrapping around the gynoid as she returns that kiss in a lingeringly affectionate way. Lips lingering close after, she works her fingers into Indigo's back in a gentle rub... only pausing as the other Guardian makes her assurances. "Subroutine--?" she questions, before shaking her head. "An oath, then." Binding contracts are something an angel can understand, at least. It's probably for the best she keeps it that simple. "Okay. The terms are acceptable." She pauses, if only for a moment, and adds, "... Thank you, Indigo," before pressing another, gentle kiss to her lips.

Indigo has posed:
    Oath? Close enough. Indigo kisses Angela again, then once more, before smiling down at her. "You're welcome, Angela," she says, then decides she doesn't want to put any effort into holding her body up enough to look down at her girlfriend ('my_girlfriend!!!!.adore' is a file she creates for herself, with four exclamation points). Instead, she slides down Angela's body a little, just a few inches, so she can rest atop the Huntress, be held in the Huntress's strength, affirm the Huntress's power power. Her cheek presses to Angela's shoulder, nose brushing Angela's windpipe as she murmurs, "Tell me about the soulforges you mentioned, Angela? What are they?"

Angela has posed:
All too content to hold Indigo where she eventually rests, Angela comfortably slides a hand through the shy gynoid's hair, cradling Indigo against her warmth as she looks up towards the ceiling of the room. She seems absolutely at ease with just staying in the comfortable silence and enjoying the presence of Indigo so close to her -- but when she hears that murmured question, she blinks, and looks down. "Hm? Do they not have them in this realm?" she asks, head tilting, as if genuinely confused. It passes a moment, before she looks aside towards the door, brows furrowing inward in thought. "They are... you know the forge, yes? Where weapons are wrought through cold or heat? The soul forges do similarly, but they create through the mystical tapestries of what makes this universe exist. Heven's armada of warships, the strongest of all the realms, my blades, the very land itself... even the engines that give our city life, all come from the forges. They can mend flesh and bone and warp steel and matter." A frown settles across her lips, unpleasant with memories. "When the King of Nothing cursed my people to a slow death sealed away from all life, his spite lingered. We learned to harness it for ourselves; his curse powers our engines and our forges. His hatred lets us live on."

Indigo has posed:
    Indigo shakes her head. "We don't have those here. Unless that's what magic is, I suppose. The way you talked about them, I thought they were manufactories where you produce robots or androids. I didn't realize they're so...immense." Her arms slide under Angela's back--hard to do while Angela's lying on her back, unless your indigo skin is Teflon-coated--and hugs her fiercely. "It sounds like it was very hard before you learned how to make the soulforges."

Angela has posed:
"We do have golems. Artificial thralls. But there's nothing quite like you," Angela asides, voice quiet, and perhaps laced with just a small mote of fond affection that is all the more obvious for how rare it comes to the forefront. "Perhaps these 'manufactories' are a good analogy... but they are what make our society thrive." That hug is unexpected, but not unwelcome; the wingless angel responds by squeezing her arms around the gynoid and shaking her head. "I was only a baby when we were exiled. But my people know better than anyone to use all the tools they have to their advantage. Using the Nothing King's desire for our suffering as a means of strength is the very expression of what it is to be an angel." She sounds proud, more than anything else. Like she takes pleasure in the story of her people's perseverence. She even smiles, when she looks back to Indigo. "So it's alright. We've become all the stronger for it."

Indigo has posed:
    The pride Angela take in her history sculpting is well-trod territory, even in the short time Indigo has known her. She smiles, lifts her head, kisses the side of Angela's neck very gently, kisses Angela's cheek a bit more firmly, and lays a right smacker on Angela's lips. "Good. As long as it's not hurting you now, I'm happy with it," she says, and lowers her cheek to Angela's shoulder again. She considers leaving her arms under Angela, but no, the firm mattress of this bed would make her arms an uncomfortable lump for Angela to lie on for long, so she reluctantly withdraws the hug and just kind of circles her arms to rest her hands on Angela's shoulders again. That's close enough to a hug for Indigo to be satisfied. "So you know the measure of an angel? Is that something your people philosphize about and explore on their own, or is it something you discovered by contrast to other species when you came here?"

Angela has posed:
How does she know their measure? "Through our stories," she explains at first, without much in the way of hesitation after she returns that final kiss, tilting her head just enough to rest it atop Indigo's. As she speaks, her right hand lifts to run through the gynoid's pink bob of hair in a comforting gesture, threading her fingers through those soft strands in slow motions that curls that hair around her digits. "We weren't always alone. We were a part of the realms proper, and our stories of our times amongst them persist. Our way of life has continued no matter what tribulations we have faced." She looks towards Indigo, watching her quietly before she speaks up once more. "Honestly... the species here confuse me. None of them behave in ways that are normal." 'Normal' for her, at least. "And while we were not alone in Heven, most of the other life left there was the beasts and monstrosities that tried to prey on us. It is... difficult, to adjust."

Indigo has posed:
    Indigo nods at Angela. "I don't know if this will make sense, but I feel the same way because I don't feel the same way," she says to Angela's collarbone. "I don't have many personal experiences yet, but I have vast databanks on human behavior and history, as well as of some other species. When I interfaced with the Milano, I gained much more knowledge. And my personality has always been fully formed, in a format I can analyze and edit to my specifications. I don't have any memories of a home to compare this life to, so I can't go through what you're going through...but I know how different that makes me, even before you told me your story, because I know everything about humanity. I'm not the same as you, but I feel the same as you because of how not-the-same-as-you I am. It's how I know how not-the-same I am." She lifts her head to look Angela in her white eyes. "Does that make sense?"

Angela has posed:
It'd be a lie if Angela said she understood all of that, or even managed to follow all of Indigo's winding words -- her experience, such as it is, is so limited she barely even understands what the blue-skinned girl really is. But in a way, she works better for it. She might not have much to say in response; in fact, she is largely quiet even after Indigo looks at her with those wide, innocent eyes and asks that final question. But she communicates far better in the way she tilts her head down, to press a kiss to the top of the gynoid's head. In the way her arms wrap a bit more tightly around her.
"It doesn't make sense," she says honestly, and adds, in a way no less sincere despite its apparent contradiction, "but I understand." After all, it's those very differences that make them similar.

Indigo has posed:
    Indigo squeezes her eyes tightly shut against a sudden flood of tears. It's not the lack of understanding, it's the kiss to her crown and the embrace that does it. Oh, her heart aches, throbbing in her chest like no imaginary organ has any right to do, a pain not of sorrow but of happiness. The electronic hum under her voice does nothing to disguise the thickness of emotion she's feeling as she barely manages to squeeze out the words, "Oh, Angela." Just two words, but her immense, titanic mind is devoting almost all its energy to thinking, 'Please hear the words that follow that. Please hear the words I didn't say. Please hear me tell you I love you, please hear me tell you that, please feel this same hurt not so I won't be alone but because it would be selfish for me to be this happy if you're not too, please be even happier than I am, I know you're confused and you're fighting it but I'm here with you and I love you and I'll do anything to make you feel even half as happy as I am.
    'Please.'
    Indigo's eyelids aren't tight enough, and a little salty drop drips from her eyelash onto Angela's chest.

Angela has posed:
Does she hear those thoughts? Can she even? If there's a clear answer for such a question, it never comes. Not in a way that might satisfy. But maybe it's enough that, when Indigo chokes out those words, when the Angela feels that wet brush of tears against her chest, the red-haired angel reacts. Drawing herself upward, she pulls Indigo with her, holding onto her like she weighed little more than a leaf. She pulls the gynoid back to stare at the sting of those tears like someone looking at them for the first time -- or perhaps, in a new light. Her right hand lifts. She says nothing.

She just quietly wipes those blooming tears from the corners of Indigo's eyes before they can threaten to spill across her cheek, and draws her close, just close enough so that their foreheads can rest against one another. Close enough that Angela can just hold her in a quiet show of genuine affection. Maybe it's not a clear answer. Maybe it's hard to say whether that sentiment made it through. But right now, at the very least... Angela seems genuinely content, since the first time since she arrived in this world.

Indigo has posed:
    There's no way for Indigo to express what's in her heart right now except to press hard into Angela's arms and begin kissing her, and kissing her, and kissing her. And more than kissing her. She'll need hours to fully and properly express to Angela what she's feeling, and she's determined to do exactly that. Thank the maker the other Guardians are still off the ship.