Claton's Clocktower 1} Planae and Claton

Planae played by Orange, Claton played by Evan

Return?

Planae also stopped, turning to look at who was obviously a troll. The moss covering them swayed gently as they reached into the bag at their hip-- it seemed to be made of canvas, and was. That's not a mystery, it's just made of canvas. They pulled a small robot out of it, vaguely humanoid in appearance. Moss seemed to be growing on the robot, too, and Planae pushed it down onto a tangle of wires (and more moss) covering their forearm. It appeared to turn on, and spoke in lieu of the troll. "I am called Planae," the robot spoke plainly, with no hint of a quirk. "What is your name?" The voice was your standard robotic business, monotone, slightly tinny. And Planae themself looked straight at the other troll, as though sizing them up.
Not that they wished to engage in a fight, they'd in fact rather avoid one at all costs. A goldblood, apparently, but why would he live all the way out here? Planae had made sure to be as far away from civilization as possible, and here there was just another troll. Probably dedicated to taming the Beyond or some such nonsense. Their opinion on the other was steadily worsening, despite the obvious fact that they didn't know anything about the goldblood, intentions or otherwise.

“My my!” The curly haired troll exclaimed, taking a step forward before instantly taking it back. His curiosity was his instant reaction, wanting to approach the strange creature and immediately poke and prod and figure out how he worked, but of course logic was only a half second behind. Note to self: approaching strange creatures that break into your house can be deadly! Even so, his foot began to tap excitedly creating a swift paced taptaptaptaptap against the wooden steps. The prospect was just so exciting! He expected a customer, but surely this (albeit deadly) option was BEYOND superior!
In his open mouthed amazement, he fumbled with his goggles for another moment before looking for the proper words to say. From behind the protection of brass, his eyes darted antsily between the robot he deployed and the creature itself. There was no way this thing was a troll, right? After all moss can’t grow on living things the way it was now, this had to be an undead- but an intelligent undead? His tapping against the ground only grew in speed and volume as his excitement grew, attempting to appear calm and collected behind his already wide eyed grin.
“1 am Claton Knatter. 2ay, did you happ3n to he4r about me through one of my cu5tomers? No matter no matter- ah! Where are my manners would you like to come inside? I have a kettle already 6rewing if you would fancy some 7ea unless you… Well, I can only 8e so frank, what are you?”

Planae laughed, a half-strangled, wheezy, overall unpleasant laugh. They hadn't opened their mouth to speak in months, and speech tends to degrade. The robot attached to their forearm spoke, as they continued laughing (or rather coughing, at that point.) "I am a troll. Do not fear the moss, it is intrinsic to my person. It serves as the power source to many of my machines, and is indeed symbiotic to myself."
They raised their right arm (the one with the attached robot,) to demonstrate the tangle of moss and wire that ran along it. It left their hand free, though many strangely-shaped outlets dotted the rest of their arm. Likely for more small robots such as the one it was currently employing. How exactly any of it worked was maddeningly unclear, as it looked like a shitton of moss and wiring was wrapped around someone's arm. "If it helps..." the robot began, before Planae spoke themselves. ".. ı ąɱ ŋơɬ ɧɛཞɛ ɬơ ɧųཞɬ ყơų. ı ῳơųƖɖ ɛŋʝơყ ɬɛą."
Very notably, they didn't answer the question as to how or why they were here, seemingly comfortable leaving their hoverboard against the wall and following the goldblood upstairs-- with equally notable silent steps, as they had eschewed shoes long ago in favor of the moss and wire wrappings.

Claton nervously swallowed hearing such a laugh. Now, it was impolite to judge others based on appearances alone but that sound sent a deep shiver down his spine. It wasn’t just unpleasant, it was terrifying to this skittish troll. His hands fidgeted impatiently, as though upset that they had nothing to do in the moment to contribute. Occasionally, his hands would even hover just over the holster that gently cradled a revolver.
The moment he said that the tapping stopped completely. If he were to blink, he wouldn’t have even seen the lanky troll leave his spot. Before he knew it he was already directly in front of the stranger, walking swiftly in circles, poking, searching, and examining to his heart’s desire. He just couldn’t help it for a second longer! This technology was incredible! A combination of botanical life and machinery- why it was beyond just impressive! Though at first he attempted to hold in his curiosity, his incessant pokes and prods would quickly grow more frequent still. He would continue to swirl around Planae without any signs of stopping, much less any social awareness that perhaps it wasn’t socially acceptable to treat a guest as though they were a specimen.

As someone who hadn't met another troll in... a while, to say the least, Planae was mainly confused and vaguely amused at the other's bewilderment. Besides, the goldblood, Claton? He had said his name was Claton, right? Seemed friendly enough. The worst that could come of the pokes and prods was a handful of moss-- finding where it ended and Planae began could be difficult, in some areas. As long as the goldblood didn't bother about their hat, all was well.
As all this was happening, Planae was soaking in the clock tower's atmosphere; strangely cozy, despite the clear utilitarianism in the building's original construction. And their host seemed to have a few robotic augmentations as well, though certainly not moss-based. Still working with blood pumping and such, in all likelihood. The small arm robot crackled out a little static, before speaking again; "You seem interested, in the moss. I am not surprised, it is a wondrous thing."

The tower had a strange atmosphere for certain, something about it was almost suffocating in a way. Yes, it was the emptiness. Stairs upon stairs upon stairs lead upwards, rooms upon rooms branched off from them, every sound seemed to echo, the sound of churning cogs seemed to surround them from all sides at all times, and yet the space seemed so incredibly empty. It was the same feeling that the outside world had, a lack of life, and even so it seemed to be warm. Yes, the tower was unmistakably comforting. It was an emptiness that was reassuring, it was an emptiness that was promising. To Claton, there was something special about knowing that no matter what it would be empty when he needed it to be empty.
As though remembering that the object he had been inspecting was alive, he stumbled back a few feet as soon as the robot voice spoke up again. Yikes! Who knew a sound you’ve heard before and should have expected could be so startling! He fumbled with his hat, pushing it back up on his head and straightened his cravat in the next split second.
His voice finally cut through his evident panic “Pardon me! R1ght thi2 way my chum, right this way” with a newfound pep in his step, he began to make his way up the steps before turning into a fanciful looking living room. The couches where a light dusty blue and in the center sat an elegant wooden tea table.

Planae strode up after him, easily taking the stairs two at a time, looking around every couple seconds to observe the walls, stairs, and as-of-yet unseen ceiling. How they were seeing would be somewhat unclear to an outside observer, seeing as how the entire upper half of their face, even where not obscured by the enormous hat they wore, was covered in moss. Certainly no eyes could see through the tangle. Once they reached the top, trailing Claton, they sat down on one of the more easily accessible couches.
They were also wondering if they were being particularly mannerly, as it is incredibly easy to forget one's manners while living alone in the combined hellscape of four different planets and whatever else was out there. Robots, at least, can have excellent manners programmed into them. Speaking of robots, actually, the little arm one piped up yet again-- "Thank you," before cutting out with another small burst of static. Planae was thinking, about the tea. They were pretty sure they knew what tea was, a hot beverage? That sounded right. And something nice and hot would surely loosen their throat up a little, and facilitate further conversation. Everything was coming up aces, as far as Planae was concerned. Wait.
Manners? Was it good manners to remove your hat at the table? Did this count, or was that only for mealtimes? They puzzled, though outwardly were just... sitting on the couch. Smiling vaguely. They made up their mind, to not remove the hat. After all, this was the combines hellscape of four different planets, surely no one would be concerned about it.

Claton stopped as Planae took a seat, contemplating if inviting such a troll in for tea was really a good idea. The couches surely will suffer under such greenery, he could only pray that any grass stains would come out easily. Well, stains were only second rate concerns here! After all this was a once in a lifetime opportunity, a creature- er, troll like this was a sight to behold in of itself! He couldn’t let him pass by, he just couldn’t afford such a thing.
“Pardon me for a moment, 1 will be back with 2om3 sn4ck5 and tea in no less than a few minutes” And with that, Claton almost dashed out of the room in the same way he had just a few instances ago. Something about the way he grinned gave off a strange feeling, as though he was a bit too thrilled about this situation. Just as he promised, he skipped off to another floor to retrieve some impromptu tea and sandwiches for his guest. This was an act of kindness that he usually shows his guests yes, but at the same time it would provide some exciting new information all the while wouldn’t it?
Though he promised it would take a couple of minutes, Claton strode back in the room in about half that time with a tray in hand. Gently, he placed it onto the table and removed a cup for each of them with his metallic arm. It was strange, for a prosthetic it moved as eloquently as his own flesh and bone arm did as if it were made of meat instead of metal.
“There we are, 1 didn’t mean 2 k3ep you w4iting.” he apologized with a smile, taking a seat on the single couch just on an angle to the one Planae was sitting at.

"ı ąɱ ųʂɛɖ ɬơ ῳąıɬıŋɠ," Planae said, trying to go for a joke. Despite, of course, not actually telling a joke at all, just saying a sentence in their weird, choked voice. They smiled, though, putting on display their honestly-not-very-sharp teeth. Maybe slightly sharper than expected, but nothing too noticeable. It watched closely as Claton poured the tea, silently admiring the craftsmanship of such an arm. It was almost entirely unconcerned, in its present situation, slowly picking up one of the teacups with its free hand.
And now may be a good time to describe their left arm, which was considerably less mossy than the right, but much more wired. Each joint in the hand-- and the fingertips-- had its own little mossy wire bundle, all connected down to their wrist. The purpose of such a setup was as of yet unclear, but at least interesting to look at.
They sipped the tea, appearing to enjoy it. Weren't touching the sandwiches yet, but definitely into the tea. The hat shifted slightly.

Claton on the other hand didn’t look too interested in the tea at the present moment. Now, don’t get him wrong he absolutely loved a warm cup of tea in the morning like any good citizen should, but there was something far more interesting in front of him. He watched the other troll’s every movement as though looking away for just a second would ruin his chances of learning just how he worked. Occasionally, the gears within his goggles would shift as if they were manually focusing and unfocusing on something. Once he was sufficiently satisfied with how the other was drinking their tea, Claton would dare to take a sip of his own as well.
“Now 1 had a2k3d this earlier, but how did you find this tower? Did someone direct you here, 4nd if 5o what were you searching for?” His question was open ended, but didn’t quite explain what exactly ‘searching for’ meant. Between picking up the cup and putting it back down, his fingers would rhythmically tap and drum on his own thigh to occupy themselves in an idle stim while he focused enthusiastically on his visitor. His eyes were completely obscured by the goggled he wore, and yet the feeling that he was being stared right through was unmistakable,

"This is the only building that still stands for a great distance. It is only logical that it would be worth investigating." Planae continued to sip their tea, as the robot spoke. "Who would direct me here? You are the first of our kind I have seen in sweeps." They nodded slightly, setting the cup down to reach for a sandwich. No mystery surprise here, they ate it like any regular troll. Or human for that matter, I doubt they eat sandwiches differently.
"I knew of your existence specifically, because one of my patrols told me. I was under the assumption you must be a monster, or perhaps a simple error, and have been pleasantly surprised otherwise." This was a pretty good sandwich, actually. Much better than anything they could have rounded up themselves. Of course, the thermal hull they'd managed to fix still lived at their campsite-- inside a structure mainly composed of broken pieces of things, and a little bit of a cave. Why did they give that thing the ability to speak? It's not like it was intelligent or anything,
Finishing the sandwich, they picked up the cup again. Certainly this was a gracious host, who seemed to have some knowledge of the robotic arts. Perhaps the start of a friendship-- though he did seem a little handsy. Likely just interested in the moss, and I mean, who wouldn't be?

Not so subtly, Claton leaned forward in his chair as the other troll picked up a sandwich with wide eyes. His eyes followed the sandwich the entire time it moved from the plate to his mouth as if expecting it to spontaneously combust or something equally absurd. The second he ate it normally, he slumped back into his chair and took another sip of tea as though he weren’t looking to begin with. Satisfied with that discovery, he crossed his mechanical leg over the other it too moving with a strange amount of precision.
“Patrol you say? 1 23e th4t you are rather 5killed with technology, admittedly I am a tad chuffed a6ou7 8eing observed without my knowledge”, He paused for a moment before his usual smile returned to him “But! That is understandable. In a 9lace like this 10oking at the area can be beneficial.”
He looked outside the window, taking in the scenery that rarely changed on a day to day basis. The great beyond was a sight to behold, but not one that brought him relief. He let out a sigh without realizing it. “Occas1onally tho2e who r3quire my services risk life and limb to visit me. In exch4nge, I a5k that they bring me parts and goods. Of course, I was fla6bergas7ed to see someone like you show up, especially unannounced!”

"Ɩıƙɛ ɱɛ?" There was no ill will in the voice, and Planae was in fact genuinely curious. The statement was absolutely foreboding, nonetheless. They picked up another sandwich, settling in to explain what it meant by patrols. While eating, of course.
"There are many smaller robots around these parts, some mobile. They watch, and report to me. You passed the radar of one, and I was notified." And this sandwich was just as good as the last one, absolutely delicious. It didn't occur to Planae that perhaps it was being unnecessarily suspenseful, or threatening, or really anything of the sort. As far as they were concerned, this was going perfectly well.
"Skilled with technology, perhaps. It was necessary to learn, out in these regions. And, of course, the moss helped me. It took many sweeps, and I am better for it. I had been blind... and now I see." Another red glint, behind layers and layers of moss. And the hat shifted again, moss swaying gently in reaction.

It was a rather curious situation for Claton, their reasonings for invention couldn’t be more different. To him this man obviously must have adapted to the horrid beyond, no, they must enjoy it do they not? Not only did they look the part, but for someone to be so hypervigilant as to survey the area, there was no doubt they had to have taken some interest in their surroundings. Unfortunately enough, Claton was quite the opposite. He had no interest in the outdoors, in fact he rarely ever left his tower. Everything he needed was inside, the outside world was of no interest to him. He had to stay focused in here, and to do that he couldn’t bother himself with the trivial nightmare that surrounded his tower on all sides.
Shockingly enough, Claton was far too excited to feel threatened about his supposed watch. In fact he had every right to be threatened by this troll, he was rather horrific if he was being honest, but he absolutely couldn’t bring himself to listen to that part of him besides just how thrilling this all was.
“The moss, 12 it int3grated with your technology? F45cinating! Like veins in a 6ody, like wires in a machine, 7hat is positively marvellous! I have never seen anything like it- say, would you mind if I were to inspect your arm a 8it closer?” It was obvious he was getting antsy again, though he already did his fair share of prodding before he just couldn’t help but get curious once again.

Planae obliged, stretching their right arm out across the table. The moss covering it, of course, shifted, along with the multiple small outlets resting just under the first layer of moss. There was a lot of moss in general, really. You'd almost get the idea that Planae really really likes moss, or something. Where it exactly grew off of was unclear-- whether it simply grew around them or out of them would be difficult to ascertain. Same for the mess of cables and wires that was intertwined with the moss, which looked more to be woven into the mess.
"I knew you were interested. The moss is a wondrous thing, after all." If a robot could sound self-assured, then that was it. Why the robot didn't already have tones of voice, would be an eternal mystery. Planae continued to eat the sandwich, allowing Claton to poke about-- it's not like he could do them any harm, beyond just ripping it all out. And moss can grow back. It would grow back.
The hat, again, shifted slightly. This time Planae reached up to tip the brim, slightly, as though to hide the movement.

“How pecul1ar…” Claton muttered to himself as he brought the arm up to his eyes. He was pretty good with technology, as far as he knew at least, but the idea of using plants within machinery was completely alien to him. Did he intend for the mechanisms to function with the moss in this fashion or was it coincidence? Was this any normal moss or was it augmented? Given the nature of the great beyond he would assume it wasn’t just normal moss, but still…
He mumbled indeterminately to himself, most of it completely inaudible even to the moss covered troll right next to him. Once he was satisfied, he put the arm back down and scratched his temples deep in thought. The only thing that broke him out of his trance was the strange rustling under the stranger’s hat. How long had that been going on for? Claton couldn’t tell if he had just imagined it, but no, surely that was strange. No less, that couldn’t be questioned right now! There were more important things at stake, so small details like that didn’t exactly matter.
“Thank you for your t1me my good 2ir, I was pl345antly surprised 6y your visi7 no less! However I cannot cur8 my curiosity, 9lease if you are so inclined to would you tell me how your tecchno10gy functions?” He put his hands in his lap anxiously, a sensation of excitement mixing together with his usual general franticness making it hard to sit still

Planae laughed again, though it sounded slightly more like a real laugh this time. They did just have a dry throat, after all. That was probably a comforting thought, that there wasn't moss growing inside a husk of a troll, controlling the skin parasitically. Or something like that. Planae is not being controlled parasitically by the moss. I promise. What did happen, is a very large earthworm-- by large I mean like 8 feet long, began creeping out from under the hat. Planae sighed, letting it slip out damply onto the couch. "My lusus," the robot explained.
The earthworm seemed content to sit on the couch-- it didn't have a face or anything, so discerning how it felt would be diffifcult. If not, at least, for the wires extending from its neck, leading to a small collar with a module of sorts on it. This, allowed it to speak. It didn't speak, but it could. Speaking of speaking, Planae actually got around to the question asked of them.
"How it all works? I have explained the moss is integral in powering the entire system, of course. It is a strange breed, comprised of the human "Spanish moss," and some tangle of Alternian and Beforan shocklichens. How I can feed from it, is dependant on my own mutation." They nodded, assuming the other must have noticed the fact that they certainly weren't a normal bronzeblood. "I am more of a vessel, here, the moss provides energy to me, and I provide energy to the machines. It is similar to the archaic blood-pumping practice of living robotics." They nodded again, this time to Claton's arm. "And yourself?" Another cut of static. The earthworm was simply sitting coiled on the couch, in fact napping.

Claton shot out of his seat, his knees meeting his chest in record time as he cowered further into his seat at the mere sight of the giant worm. What a creature that was! It was massive, slimy, faceless! the idea that something like that was hiding just under the strangers hat this entire time struck him silent. He cringed at the idea that this entire time, even with how closely he examined the stranger, the only thing that had separated him and that giant thing was just a hat?! He could barely mask his fear as he mourned the loss of his clean couch. Shakily, he quivered back into his seated positions attempting to desperately tear his eyes off of the giant creature that had settled its way onto his couch. Well, there wasn’t anything he could do about that for now could he? He bit his bottom lip, attempting to push the creature's existence out of his mind. I mean, what creature? Surely there was no 8 foot long worm to speak of not in this hive!
...that did not prove to be an effective strategy.
At the very least what information made it through the brick wall of worm related anxieties proved to be very interesting, his rather fearful expression softened with intrigue. In a place like this, he could never imagine another inventor could have been around for miles, perhaps more! “M1ne are a tad le2s intricat3 I unfortunately h4ve to report! Well, I wouldn’t 5ay they are even of the same genre 6u7 I am partial to more traditional mechanics.” His hand thoughtlessly gestured to his words “Electron1c2 ar3…. Untrustworthy.” his expression twisted into a near grimace just as the mention

"Surely you are not suggesting the ancient art of steam and clockwork? Even the humans moved past it, though I can admit it there is beauty in its quaintness. I can even admit to having engaged in a few projects of the sort. Certainly interesting work, very dependable in its antiquity, though I have found the moss to be more effective. Of course--" Planae raised their arms and tilted their head back slightly, letting the full impact of the morass of cable and moss hit the other, "-- it requires specific commitments, and I am unsure if anyone besides myself can adequately feed from and to it." They lowered their hands and head again, picking up the teacup. It was good tea.
"What flavor is this?" Their arm said, as the lusus began squirming gently onto the floor. It was rather excited to be somewhere new, even if that place wasn't particularly interesting at all. At least not to an earthworm, they generally get excited about things that aren't clocks. The small speaker attached to it sputtered to life, though no words came out. It wasn't very good at speaking, even with its electronic help, and was mainly limited to single words and simple phrases. The lusus didn't care for tea or sandwiches, simply feeling the new texture that the floor presented. As of yet, it seemed like your garden variety 8 foot long earthworm. "And, do you have your lusus present?" Planae nodded, apparently not looking to where the worm went.

Should he feel criticized for his use of old technology? In all honesty Claton just couldn’t tell for himself, though felt much more comfortable just brushing past that fact anyways. He wasn’t a man for confrontation, no, in fact just the thought of butting heads with anyone brought back unfortunate memories. It became a fear that only flourished over time. Either way, there was no doubt that Planae was just plain wrong about his assumptions about steam and clockwork! In fact there was no superior form of technology than this alone! Electronics were too advanced, truly we were always made to use technology that functions in sync to our own bodies! Everything else is simply unreliable and unnatural, yes, naturalism was essential to improvement!
Regaining some confidence from his own internal dialogue, his focus shifted back onto the conversation he had almost forgotten he was a part of. Finishing off his own cup of tea, a smile returned back to its home across his lips. “Earl grey of course, 1t’2 my favourit3” he explained as his hidden eyes remained ever fixated on the giant wriggling monstrosity that now soiled his carpet. Was this thing really a lusus? Was it even capable of raising a wiggler? Just the thought worried him. “My lusus 12 lik3ly hiding, he has 4n acute 5ense of self preservation you see.” he put it bluntly, his lusus was a bit of a coward. Claton would like to think that he didn’t take after him, but just from his mannerisms it was obvious that wasn’t true.

"Earl Grey?" The robot and Planae spoke in unison for a moment, as they tested the words out in their mouth. "I had not heard of it, before now." Back to just the robot. "It is a name, isn't it? Sounds human, at least." The worm perked up at the word Earl, and began its slow crawl towards Claton himself. The speaker crackled again, though same as before, no words came out. Silly worm, not thinking in intelligible words. Truly a proud parent. Or lusus, as the case may be and indeed is.
"And, if it is not too personal of a question, what species is your lusus? As you can see, mine is similar to an earthworm." Keyword there being similar, of course, and they weren't simply referring to the size of the thing. "Pardon him, he was meant to sleep until tomorrow's night. The recent excitement must have roused him-- do not worry, he does not bite." The worm appeared to have no visible mouth. Surely, Planae was joking, right? And the worm doesn't have a mouth? Right? Probably. "Your lusus could be quite large to live in this tower comfortably, to be sure. I have heard stories of some who chain theirs to the rooves of hivestems, though it has been very long since I have seen either another lusus, or a hivestem at all."

“1 am a bit fond of human2 linguistics if I am b3ing truly honest with myself! 4 lot of their phra5es sound so elegant.” His words came out ever concise, there was a deliberate pattern of clear annunciation in his voice all while remaining pretty gentle overall, as though it were a whisper brought up to a spoken volume. A quiet noise resounded from his teacup as his metallic finger idly traced the edge, staring into the now empty white ceramic. The crackled speakers sent another surge through Claton’s body, startling him into stiffness as his legs angled away from the slowly approaching creature. Please don’t get any closer don't get any closer don't get any closer-
“You need not worry about my lusus, you l1kely won’t 23e him unfortunately. 45 I said, he has quite the keen sense of self preservation. I dou67 he will come out for anything 8esides a 9repared meal” the question was brushed off as soon as it was given. He didn’t enjoy distrusting strangers, but he couldn’t help but worry about that thing that still remained on his carpet. Was it carnivorous? Was it looking for a meal? If so, he had no intention of making his lusus a target of that. “As for your lusus, 1 can’t help my mind from wondering: do you carry him with you everywhere? 2ur3ly they must get he4vy after a while… ah! Well, that i5 not to assume you aren’t spry on your feet you look like the strong type!” He frantically corrected himself, his fidgety hands waving away his previous statement as quickly as he said it.

The worm did indeed get closer, and closer, and closer, at a stunningly low speed. Eventually, it reached Claton's foot, appearing to... sniff it? And as it did so, something was happening. Its face (or rather lack of it,) split open slightly, revealing a small glint underneath. Then it evened out into a smooth surface again, resting its head on Claton to apparently fall asleep again. Planae didn't turn their head to look, though was in fact aware of what it was doing. They simply didn't act.
"I would not worry about your lusus either way. At the very least, I assume you would have it trained enough to not attack guests. Mine, you need not worry about. As I said before, it does not bite." They smiled gently, before taking another sip of the tea. How they hadn't actually finished the cup yet, wasn't clear. Plot reasons, probably. Another crackle of static from the worm. Terrifying!

The entire time the worm made its majestic journey towards him, Claton noticeably shifted further and further back into his seat. Initially his movements were minimal as to not alert his mossy guest, but eventually that went completely out the window as Claton wished he too went out the same exit. He continued inching away from the creature’s approach until he was no longer sitting on the chair at all but instead cowering away from it from the top of the headrest trying to avoid wormy contact at all costs. Grubs were tasty yes, bugs were as well, but something of this size was no longer in that realm of being even considered in that same category! His face went a pale shade of yellow, unable to contain his disdain for the large wriggling creature.
He leapt off the headrest of the couch, landing less than elegantly on his feet firmly back on the floor. “S-say! Would you care to jo1n me up2tairs? I would lov3 to sh4re in whatever knowledge you have on technology, if you are willing to give away 5ecrets of that cali6ur” he shakily changed the topic with enthusiasm, more than willing to do anything but stay sitting here for a second longer.

With a vaguely serene smile, Planae also stood. The worm turned to them-- it had simply mistaken Claton for its charge, how silly of it-- and began its slow journey back. "Are you uncomfortable, with Wormy?" And that, very likely shattered any intimidating face they had made for themself, even if accidentally. "I would be glad to pick him up, he is such a curious little fellow."
Having scooped the lusus up in their arms and put it on like a scarf, they followed Claton. "There is no point in keeping technological secrets. If progress dies with you, then what is the point of having the knowledge? I would be glad to share what I know, with an esteemed scientist such as yourself."

Claton couldn’t bring himself to properly reply to that question. I mean, who has the guts to tell someone to their moss covered face that they were raised by a complete terror? No one that is! Some lususes are just vile and nightmarish, that was a fact trolls just kind of had to accept. Doesn’t mean he will be entirely ok with the idea that his guest was carrying around an 8 foot worm, but he will accept it nonetheless like any good gentleman would.
“Well 1 under2tand that, that is v3ry 4dmirable of you to 5ay! Of course, I cannot sympathize with that sentiment for myself as I don’t very well plan on dying” he spoke as he left the kitchen, beginning his trek up the stairs of the clocktower, higher and higher for a near gruelling amount of distance. For a hive anyone would consider this amount of stairs to be inconvenient, and for an inventor like himself it was obscure that he didn’t yet implement an innovation to make this journey a little easier sweeps ago.

As Wormy (which was apparently the beast's name) laid across their shoulders, Planae followed Claton up the stairs. They noted very specifically how the goldblood seemed to neglect to answer their question, while also accepting that no slight was intended. Most likely, at least. They wouldn't bring it up. The lusus, for its part, was entirely fine with the situation, and was really just vibing.
"You could say that I do not, either. It is one of the benefits of the moss. We nurture each other in equal proportion, as you have likely been able to tell." This sure was a tall tower, and Planae was honestly not a fan. The wide spaces of the Beyond suited them better, with room to see potentially for miles. As long as the monsters were not being too bold, sleeping almost unshaded in the sun was a marvelous thing.

for just a moment Claton indulged in the idea of the worm laying across his own shoulders, imagining the sensation of slime slowly coating the shoulders of his suit and for that moment Claton truly felt sick. Gross. His own sense of pride aside, they soon would get right up to the top of the stairs and enter what must be a work area of his. The floors were worn down, the wood almost giving splinters even through shoes. A trap door could be seen just at the ceiling, and a large circular window had its place in the center of the wall. Along the walls were drawers upon drawers, either containing parts or tools. On the wall adjacent to the window was a large bookshelf, not completely empty but rather stocked with a variety of different journals and research papers. Of course the centerpiece of the room was the large wooden desk with a multitude of fine parts and an array of magnifying glasses.
“Here we are! Try not to m1nd the me2s, I wasn’t 3xpecting comp4ny- well, in all truth even if I wa5 I probably wouldn’t have 6o7hered to clean either so try not to pay it too much mind” he chuckled awkwardly, pulling a book off his shelf and settling into the chair next to the desk. “Here we are” he sighed as though finally worn out from all the climbing

Planae stopped dead in their tracks. A bookcase? A bookcase. They gazed (insofar as one could infer them to be gazing,) at the entire thing, before slowly walking to it, running their fingers along the spines of journals and over papers. "You have writings here." The monotone of the robot sorely cut into the clear rapt attention Planae was displaying, touching just about everything they could see, ignoring the clear highlight of the room.
Wormy began squirming, and Planae took a moment to let the lusus crawl back into the hat. Once it was safely out of sight, they began going over all of the books again. See, Planae could read well enough, right, as is expected. But Planae, could not write. Never really could at all.

The moss man’s lack of etiquette caught Claton off guard. Say, who goes over to someone else’s hive and touches everything while being so…damp. Those were all important papers, and while he trusted his new guest he-! Well he just couldn’t afford to lose such important documents, it was all his work neatly documented, the only backup copy being his own mind. He clutched onto the notebook with one hand, holding out the other with blank concern before retracting it just as quickly. Say, what was he supposed to do in a situation like this? Speak up? Tell him not to touch? That idea alone was beyond just inhumane, in fact it was completely out of the question! No, his fear refused to allow him to do something as bold as telling anyone to do just about anything.
Instead, he could only sit there fidgeting in his usual restless manner silently watching, waiting, staring, unable to get on with what he had initially planned as he could only hope none of his documents would suffer the wrath of water damage.

Entirely unaware of the other's plight, Planae was entirely consumed by simply taking in the glory of all the written word. They'd cry, if their eye ducts worked and weren't obscured by moss. As it was, they simply stood stock still, staring. It was all too marvelous. They coughed gently once they came back to their senses, before actually speaking again. "ყơų ɧą۷ɛ... ῳཞıɬıŋɠʂ ɧɛཞɛ. ɖıɖ ყơų ɱąƙɛ ɬɧɛʂɛ, ყơųཞʂɛƖʄ?"
They hadn't seen an undestroyed volume of literature in over a dozen sweeps, to be sure. They barely managed to keep the few less-damaged books they had found in the Beyond safe, and those were worn and usually moldy. Any greater number was to be appreciated, and such a trove of well-kept books was an absolute treasure.

His uneasiness was cut through like a knife through fog the moment Planae spoke. In that moment, his own concerns had no place here. For as odd and disconcerting their voice sounded normally there was something especially peculiar this time around. Say, did they sound… sad? He placed the journal in his hands down on the desk, rising to his feet to join at his guest’s side, deciding to admire the books he had amassed with him. It wasn’t often he actually enjoyed the sight of his grand shelf in this manner besides the passing glance it took to take what he needed off of the shelves. It really was a sense of pride for the young man, a long awaited journey he had spent in the great beyond holding fort in this hive for the sake of his invention.
“Everyth1ng important 2hould be docum3nted. I know I do s4y I don’t plan on dying, but thing5 don’t always go according to plan, do they my friend?” He gave him a warm grin, scratching his cheek for a moment before his eyes fell back onto the books “1f anything were to happen to me, 2om3one should be 4ble to continue where I left off that i5 my 6ack up plan. Every7hing else…” he tapped his finger to his temple a couple of times “all r1ght where I need it”

'My friend,' he had said. Strange. Planae would have to deal with that later, considering all the implications of having a friend. In their experience, comprised of many half-forgotten memories from before they fled into exile, friends were nothing but trouble. But the Empire wasn't here, and this was but a single troll, and surely didn't mean harm, right? Well, they couldn't go and spill their entire thought process to Claton, but they could be glib. Robots are excellent at being glib. "That is true. It is truly worth the effort to disseminate information, even if there is no one to directly benefit."
"Friend?"

Claton glanced back to the troll, only noticing that his words might have unintentionally frightened his guest. “Ah excuse my words, 1t2 a bit of a v3rb4l habit of mine if you will! If you are not my enemy then I do not 5ee why even strangers can’t 6e considered friends.” He tried to clarify, ever clumsy when it came to getting his thoughts across to others. He had quite the accent, his words often times being a bit strange to accompany it but of course the intentions always remained just about the same.
Sensing tension, he broke out of his spot moving back towards his desk “...w1th all that 2aid, I was hoping to tak3 note of your technology here if you will humour me for just a few more minutes”

At first Planae did not speak, mulling over Claton's words. Seemed plausible enough, and besides, he barely seemed dangerous on his own. They nodded, turning back to walk towards the other-- after all, it would be difficult to take notes without being able to properly inspect the technology. Stretching their outlet-ridden arm out, there was a small burst of static.
"Of course. You may need to acknowledge, in your writings, that I am not of regular blood." They were extremely expectant, though outwardly demonstrated nothing further out of the ordinary than usual. Writing! Writing!

First and foremost his attention was on the mechanical arm laid out to him, the gears in his goggles swirling for a moment before he took out a small tool to examine the inner workings a bit more closely. Planae’s words took a secondary slot in his mind as Claton hyperfixated on the task in front of him. Of course he was listening, but only after he was examining. He would move a few screws, put them back just as he had found them, then scribble something down in his notebook in messy cursive, then repeat. Adjust, examine, reaffix, write, repeat. As he continued to work, his foot began to quietly tap against the wooden boards beneath them.
His subconscious mind took the task of dealing with verbal conversations, allowing him to half heartedly mutter out “not of ord1nary blood…?” partially needing clarification because his mind was already occupied, and partially because he didn’t know what Planae really meant by that.

The moss gently shifted alongside the mechanical parts, though never being particularly annoying through its presence. Planae sat still, utterly transfixed by the other's handwriting. And he looked much younger than they clearly were, which was also puzzling. How did he get out here to the Beyond? Was it his lusus' decision? That sounded likely. There were always the weird ones, who controlled their trolls more closely than mose.
"I am not a bronzeblood, as my clothing may suggest." Planae themself didn't move as the small robot spoke, simply watching Claton write. Or at least, apparently watching, the clump of moss obscuring where their eyes(?) were wouldn't be particularly helpful.

Deep in thought, he bit the back of his thumb with his rather sharp teeth to occupy his hands while his mind ran amuck for just a few more moments. Just under his breath he could be heard mumbling something barely decipherable to himself, followed shortly thereafter by more swift note taking. All of his movements felt almost rushed, like his limbs all wanted to move from point A to point B as fast as possible at all costs. Perhaps it was the silent ticking of a watch that came from his vest pocket that exposed his pace, but it was as though he was constantly trying to do things as quickly as he could.
In a similar quiet tone to before, he continued absentmindedly carrying on the conversation “1f not a bron23blood, wh4t might you be?” His usual filler politeness vanished as his logical mind was far too occupied to supply his speech with them.

It was interesting to watch the goldblood rush about, as though there were no time for what he was doing. Planae held their arm as still as possible, not particularly minding all the poking and prodding. The writing was still entrancing, however, and they were watching it very closely. Perhaps they could learn, through watching...
"My blood is of no recorded color. I am a mutant. It is orange." They still did not move, awaiting the other troll's response. Some piece of their mind expected a violent reaction, though they had no idea why they thought that. They moved the moss aside, on one section of their arm, to show Claton a newly-inserted wire. There was a small amount of dried blood around it, which did at least seem brighter than a typical bronzeblood's.

“ah yes of course 1 23e-” his halfhearted stupor was broken once those words had a second to sink into the soup of his mind. Bright orange…? He blinked stupidly as he rushed back over to his arm analyzing the newly inserted wire. Bright orange… Bright orange? as if his eyes were lying to him, he stared at it for a few extra seconds, then his head would lift back up to look at Planae where he approximated his eyes to be, then back down, then back up to him.
Finally, a quiet whisper escaped him. “Fasc1nating…” he assuredly said, holding onto the arm for another three ticks before taking note of this new additional fact. The second he did the information finally soaked into his mind and with it a bright new grin came across his face. “Fasc1nating!” He exclaimed far louder than before as though he were confirming this fact to himself. “1 cant 2ay I’v3 ever seen a being quite like you in 4ll my year5- you see I’ve heard nothing 6u7 whispers on the su8ject but I never could have imagined-” he trailed off, staring right back down at the small dried spot of blood on Planae’s arm once again.

They smiled wryly, before speaking again. "It has no useful properties to a normal troll, as the only benefit I have discovered is the ability to harness the moss better. I do not doubt it would work with a regular troll, such as yourself, I simply believe I am uniquely qualified to take advantage of its properties." Of course the goldblood would express interest, judging by how they had reacted to things so far.
"And indeed, a mutation such as this is incredibly rare. As far as I have been able to tell, they repeat so infrequently to the point of practically being unique. And they can vary from a simple brightblood, such as myself, to iridescence or even pure black. I could not tell you with properties these possess, as all I have heard is rumor." The tone seemed to imply a casual discussion, as opposed to a breakthrough in troll biology. As much as a robot could convey tone, at least.

Only after another minute went by did Claton finally let his arm go. With all the information he needed safely recorded over the course of a few pages he firmly closed it and brought his full attention back to the conversation.
Though it was never possible to see Claton’s eyes directly between the thick black glass and brass goggles, the stars in his eyes almost shone right through “You don’t seem to fully understand how 1mportant thi2 kind of information is, I truly cannot 3xpress enough how bloody impressive your exist4nce in of it5elf is” he had spent sweeps inside working on his inventions, sweeps inside improving on the same information he has had forever, and yet this troll managed to show him something brand new, a new perspective perhaps. Maybe it was because he spent so long in seclusion that other perspectives were never a possibility in his mind, maybe he was so far into his own box that he had forgotten about the world outside of it.

"Important?" They retracted their arm, to rest on their lap again. They could remember that their blood color was out of the ordinary, and the basic structure of the hemospectrum, though the significance of most things had been lost over the sweeps of living alone. Was the mutation important? That seemed like something they should know, and likely forgot. And that fact was concerning, if it was true. Claton didn't need to know of their sudden fears about that aspect, however, so they left it at a single word response. Maybe he could clue them in, somehow.

For someone as knowledgeable as Claton that prompt was more than enough to get him to divulge. After all Claton didn’t live in the great beyond his whole lifetime, no, in fact he lived in society for far longer than he had lived out here on his own. Memories of how society worked still had a great mark on him with the ideologies and spectrum serving as a catalyst for his invention. Though those memories were things he dreamed of forgetting and leaving in the past with time, that initial dream still remained deep within his bloodpusher. “Th12 blood do3s not exist, it h45 no place on the spectrum at all! 6lood like 7his single handedly proves the system is fictitious, 8lood like this 9roves that the violence was unjust, b10od like this…”
He stopped his own train of thought. He had nothing to do with organizations like those anymore. He should have no will to mend what he left behind, it wasn’t his business anymore. His bright smile jolted away as did his gaze prompting him to stand up from his seat.
“Please d12r3g4rd my rambling5” the smile he had on before returned, but this time it could barely maintain itself “1 wa2 sp34king of none5ense”

The system is fictitious. Planae's head began to hurt, as they received a sudden flash of memory. They were in a city, but nothing else was clear. Definitely something useless, which was nothing but annoying. It would be better to press the conversation back on the goldblood, to keep from having to speak too much. The fact that they simply couldn't answer too many questions could be taken as incriminating, though for what, they didn't know. The easiest path would be to play dumb, right?
"The... spectrum? A fictitious system?" A half-lie, and a half-truth. The most impossible kind of speech to disprove. "I am afraid I do not follow." Maybe they'd overdone it, there, but they needed to remember.

A part of his soul screamed for him to continue on, to rave about this revelation to him, to pursue this discovery for all that it was worth, to make the world liveable. The other part of him was a coward. “1 don’t either. Plea23 disreg4rd that I….. I don’t know what had gotten into me” his face grew melancholy, staring only at the floorboard underneath his feet. He was here to focus and do a job, that was what his life was meant to be. If he can achieve this, then all living beings will be saved. He can’t get sidetracked, he has no time to do so. Swiftly, he rummaged into his shirt pocket taking out a quite beautiful brass pocket watch, inspecting it for only a split moment before putting it right back where it came from. Did he even check the time?
“Unfortunately 1 really mu2t b3 getting b4ck to work now. Thank you for your vi5it, I hope you will make some time to drop 6y once again in 7he future.” His voice lacked the vim and charisma it had previously; vigorously sapped away from him by a cruel memory. This was not a thought he should pursue.

Planae nodded-- after all, their relationship was transactional in nature, was it not? And stood. Ensuring their lusus was safe, they bowed slightly to the other. "Of course. Your work is of great importance, by all accounts." Getting back down the stairs, their headache was growing gradually worse. There had to be some way to do away with the utterly useless visions they were occasionally plagued with, all that ever came of them was some sort of pain. At the door, they picked up the hoverboard from where it had been leaning, and turned to leave. Before walking out, however...
"ıɬ ῳąʂ ŋıƈɛ. ɬơ ɱɛɛɬ ყơų, ɬɧąɬ ıʂ."
And with that, they were gone, soon tearing across the windswept plains on a remarkably convenient transportation device.

Scene End