Fears and Doubts

-== New Scene: Fears and Doubts ==- Following the shadow market, the party gathers once more to go over ideas, plans, and ask Paulo a ton of questions. The artificer, that the red eyed tiefling with arms crossed and leaning up against a wall can’t see or hear. She listens to their one-sided conversation, only hearing the question and not the answer. It wouldn’t have mattered, but the questions being asked feel like stabs into her chest with every quiet response as they inquire about Solus. It’s not until after those silence answers fill the ears of the others that they turn to give a summary to Syn. “Fantastic.” She says sharply. Unsure if to be feel anger, doom, or sadness. With everything going on here and the coming battle against the plants and dragons, her nerves feel jittery. Will everyone be able to achieve the outcome that they want? “I’m probably being selfish here, but you know what my plan is. I only have one shot at this, both me and Solus, we only have one shot to get this right.” Her eyes shift to the open door, to see Ford standing close-by. “And you say he’s got to come with me…” There is a hesitance in her voice. “But we have three days’ time to fortify this place, I’ll help where I can, but when the time comes, I’m meeting Nova on the battlefield.”
She pushes off the wall with a frustrated face, stepping out onto the wooden balcony of an abandoned home perched slightly off the ground and tucked between two massive trees. It shrouds this sad home in both shade and shifting rays of sunlight. She leans over the rail to look at ford. “Hey.” She flicks a half-attempted wave to him. With the added height of the balcony, she stands face to face with the warforged. “So uh…” She holds her head up with her hand, leaning casually on the railing of the balcony. “Can we talk? Somewhere? Not here. Away from the others?” Shifting eyes, this is weird to her.
Ford has many wonderful features. He has a monotone sense of humor, badass chains, and is tall. The later is important as his head comes up to allow that eye-to-visor contact with the metallic machine. "Sure," he replies in that singular tone, the glow in the red lens of his eyes being a constant pulse of life. "But you should know it won't work out between us. One, I'm mostly metal. Two." A pause is given, "Really its just the one. Hah hah hah." The light glints off the warms of copper and the cool of steel as he leans his head over for antlers of bone that are easy to grab onto for a ride down.
There is a long pause with an empty expression across Syn’s face as Ford laughs. Her cheek smushed up slightly as her hand presses against it leaning on the railing. Maybe somewhere in that dead-panned expression of hers rests the faintest of smiles. “Has anyone ever told you that your jokes are lame? I mean, really lame?” She says, dropping her hand and stepping up onto the railing and reaching out to one of his antlers. A small tap on his metal shoulder as she steps on. Syn plops down to take a seat on his shoulder. “What? You keep bragging about it, and even Alexa got a free ride.” She grins and throws a pointer finger forward. “Toooooooo anywhere but here!” She shouts.
It is a surprisingly natural place to sit. Ford's pauldrons are built for structure and frame. Yet for a tiefling they might as well be just the right amount of 'seat' space. "Heh," hisses out the warforge as a valve releases head out from a piston. "Hang on, if you can," Ford says. The voice holds a whirling behind it that purrs like the firing of a metal engine. Alexa got carried. Syn gets a joyride.
The first step away from the building has the grace of a starship leaving the dock of a station. Another piston hisses. "Destination. Locked," eyes flare a darker red, "Anywhere but here." The second step hits the ground like a sledgehammer. The entire town can't NOT hear the banging of metal drums against the ground as Ford goes fast, steaming through town with reckless abandon like two drunk devils that just stole a car and tearing down the streets. Anywhere but here. "Wooooohooooo," he howls past the group of soldiers that are training diligently for the upcoming fight.
Syn holds on the best of her ability, gripping one of the pauldrons. Pistons fire and for some reason, there is this instant regret that settles in her stomach. “Ah, okay.” Before wind is flowing past her face, hair whips across her cheeks. “WOOOOOOO IS NOT THE CORRECT CHOICE OF W-WORDS FORD!” Shades of green go whipping past her vision and she holds on tight, ford running through the community on high speed. “HEY HEY! OKAY! OKAY! THIS IS FINE. STOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOP.”
Stopping isn't any more graceful. Ford was clearly built for more forceful applications in mind. Heavy metal feet grind into the ground as he slides forward, moving the dirt as it if was lightly packed snow on a playground. "Destination. Reached," Ford says in a monotone voice as if mocking constructs despite having the chassis of one himself. "The D'Acier class warforge series thanks you for your test run of the porter service. We would welcome your feedback, but the feedback mechanism was removed decades ago. Hah hah hah."
“To think a warforged could travel that quickly.” She let out laugh and then slowly it fades. Its quiet here and the only sounds are the shifting of leaves and the pistons in Ford settling down after his sprint. “Listen… apparently Paulo told the others who could see and hear him that Nova is going to attack us, to seek out Solus and try to overtake her. In the house back there, they asked about how to deal with it.” Red eyes narrow looking out to the forest. “The truth of it all is that I am going to have to kill them both, again. I’ll have to break them to put the pieces back together. They said that if I can, then you could put them back together, but my biggest fear is that you will say okay and do just that. If it doesn’t work, I’ll be standing out there at that shrine having lost three people, and don’t tell me you’re fine because we all know that’s bullshit….” She brushes some hair out of her face, letting out a frustrated sigh. “I can’t sit here and ask you to do something like that without telling you my fears about it and hearing your thoughts on it too.”
"You wouldn't have to ask," buzzes the monotone voice of the metal behemoth, "if it is what we have to do then it is what we have to do. Whatever it takes." Bird chirp to a song in a nearby tree to fill the silence that follows. An industrial hiss escapes from Ford as he turns to face the setting sun. Warm hues brighten the color of his copper and soften the cold steel.
"You never met her," Ford begins, "but Anne said something similar to me, once. She was your grandmother or great grandmother. I'm not sure, but I am sure she had a lot of wine that night." This is where a deep sigh would start, but Ford lacks lungs. Instead the silence between is like the rest in a score of music. "James, her husband, was going out on a ship with his brothers. Their eldest son was of age to join and was going to ask to do so. It was what they wanted and being true to yourself was as important as air. It was beyond her to change his mind, but not to change her fears." A hand gestures, making lumpy metal hand puppets to reinact the scene, "What if Thomas asks to come? What if James says yes? What if I lose them both? The first time is reckless, Ford. So much can go wrong." A pause in the story affords a pleasant summer breeze. The warforge has no hair to billow. There are no robes to catch it. The simple warmth must pass over his metal body the same as arrows and rain. "We left. We returned. It wasn't our best raid, but seeing Anne's face when we got off that ship was better than hauling a greatest trove of cargo. The best treasure was walking with two good feet back home."
The wind stops. The chirping stops. "Later that night Freeport was suddenly and fiercely attacked with powerful magic that destroyed much of the city with a single blast." Its difficult to recall the specifics. "I remember Anne's expression most. Fear. Relief. Horror. It blended together so fast and fragile for a woman who was," he looks to Syn, "an absolute terror. Getting on her bad side was ill advised." He looks away again, "Then there she was. Trying to find her youngest daughter in a street full of ash and brick. She spent so much time worrying about one child she was blindsided by the loss of another."
"We looked for days," Ford explained, "but we never gave up. If we had to tear apart every brick in Freeport, we would. One night I heard her voice. She was buried beneath an old wellhouse with a book held tightly to her chest. While the family slept, exhausted, I excavated her out from a tomb of rock and debris." That should be the end of the story. Something nice to end on. "Bellamy was never the same after that. She couldn't sleep. Thought that if she did that she would never wake up again." A hiss from one of Ford's pistons, "So I would read to her at night." A turn to Syn again, "Fun fact, I didn't know how to read at the time. It came out hilariously incorrect." His head turns back to the sunset, "but it made her laugh. Eased the tension. Bellamy was strong. Never afraid to brandish her fangs. Never gave up on teaching me how to read and to write. Clearly so she wouldn't have to endure poor storytelling." Clearly.
"I was working on a book for her birthday," Ford continues, "it was a silly thing. A children's book. Bellamy was much older now and eventually would have children of her own. I wanted to give her something to remind her how far she has come. Pride in teaching me how to read and write. Something I could read to them since, as you can see, I'd be around for generations. I wanted something that would allow her to connect to her child much like I saw the connection between Anne and Bellamy. So similar, although they would NEVER admit that." "I never got to give it to her," the warforge tells Syn, "Angels attacked Freeport suddenly and a detour to the warehouse wasn't on the evacuation path. I thought I lost everything that day. James, Anne, Calico, Bellamy, William, and Thomas. Before the lights went out, I was helping Bellamy and William escape, but I wouldn't know if that worked or not. I just had to believe it, Syn Thatcher."
Another break in the story. Another place where it could end on a somber note this time. "When I woke up again, over a century passed," Ford says, "I broke out of Jacob's little lab and went back to what was left of Freeport. It was devistating. It felt lonely. Like there was this hole in my chest carved by the past. The solace was an idea that Bellamy and William did make it out. That I could find out how they lived their lives. I can't go back, but I can move forward." A bird chirps and lands on one of Ford's antlers. "I spent some time at sea with new friends while sorting this all out. Jacob might have come looking for me, so I put some distance between us until I had my bearings. Went on some adventures. One of them told me a sad truth that none of the Thatchers made it out." He shakes his head from side to side, "I still don't understand it. In the end it was James who saved me and my friends by offering their souls to some 'god' as payment. I wasn't some 'thing' to the Thatchers. I was family. Family that doesnt give up on family. No matter what it takes."
"I was sad, sure, but if I let myself fall into despair then it would dishonor the life James and the other Thatchers sacrificed so that I could live on." His head turns back to Syn, slowly, "Then I found you. It was as clear as a heartbeat who you were."
"So what do I think about this situation we are in?" Ford comes back to the original question. "I think I understand the pain in your heart with Solus was like the pain I felt when I walked the moonlit streets of Freeport ruins. I think that the fear of failure and loss is like when I watched a family of ghosts pass by me 'for family' to pay for something I couldn't do myself. And, finally, I think that we do whatever it takes to bring Solus back. Or Alexa. Or myself. Come what may, we have each other. We will figure it out. We will do. Whatever. It. Takes."
His response leaves her silent, listening attentively to the story as Ford tells it. She watches his large metal hands as they dance around to his own story of the Thatchers. It would be the first time she’s heard a story of her family and there is this heavy intrigue from it as he continues speaking. When he describes the celestial attack on Freeport, her head lowers. Her memories take her back to that place, where they all met Ford and his old party. She remembers some of those ghostly faces still trapped there. Could those have been her family she was staring in the face of? She thinks to herself as the story continues.
The bird that had landed on Fords antler chirps, Syn tilts her head up and it takes off in a split second, flying high into the canopy of trees. His story concludes and the echoing words of ‘whatever it takes’, linger in her head. Another frustrated sigh follows before she speaks. “I was young when my mother gave me to Jacob Whyte. A little kid that was given no rhyme or reason to anything. I thought growing up at that estate that I did something wrong, that I wasn’t wanted anymore and that’s why she left me to that monster. I never heard stories of the Thatchers, I had known nothing of my family and for a long time, I had no desire to. I wrote them off because I wrote my mother off.” Another soft wind twists around between the large trees and the leaves dance all in unison, making a soft hum through the forest. “Solus was a welcome light in a place of darkness. An absolute opposite of me, always so nice, always so positive. He’d try to break me, over and over, like Ozy described. When I fought against him, whatever it was, there was this tipping point. A hail mary moment that had to have dawned on him when I got tossed back into the same room with Solus and she came running to me. I looked like shit, bloody, bruised, half healed wounds. I think it was then when he saw for himself the connection me and her had, that comfort, that light we hold so closely between the two of us to get us through this different kind of hell.”
The breeze settles and the forest becomes eerily quiet until a cicada somewhere in the lush green forest begins chirping. “Because instead of just closing the door and walking away, he marched in there, pushed me aside, grabbed Solus and slit her throat. It didn’t stop there though, he would resurrect her, and do it again. I lost count how many times, how many ways it was done. He wanted me to kill her, he said he’d stop if I did it. That was his way of breaking me. I didn’t know what to do, I kept watching this play out in front of me over and over and over again. We both knew we couldn’t kill Jacob, and I didn’t realize at the time how difficult it would be to kill Solus myself. That was the first time I saw red. Just pure red anger. Something within me changed then. I put aside every feeling in that rage and became numb to it all. I grabbed the sword he tossed in my direction and put the blade through her chest…” There is a long pause as she goes through that memory in her head. “He thinks he didn’t break me then, maybe he did? Because it was in that moment that I broke her. It’s what I must deal with now in the shrine, Nova is my creation. Knowing now, as a Breaker, it’s what I caused.” Syn still sits perched on his metal shoulder, starring out into the forest. “I didn’t want Alexa to come with me to the shrine because I know that the level of anger I need to find within me in order to do this again will be difficult. I must voluntarily do this again and I am afraid how off the rails I will end up. She didn’t go into detail with the party about Avernus, but I went batshit crazy there too. I killed a lot of people in a battle royale and that terrified her, I am worried that might happen again, but it might be the right amount of numbness and rage to get me through breaking Nova…Solus. I think if anyone in this party is the safest and the least judgmental of it all, it’s you. I think the others would try to stop it or get in the way. I don’t think you would. Or at least, I am asking you not to because, this is also my ‘whatever it takes’ and I need someone with me there that understands that. I know you understand that. Especially after your story.
"Breakers," Ford says as he thinks on this topic, "Builders. How they come about or what that means. Its a lot of noise." He keeps looking out to the warm hues of sunset, "You are you, Syn. Thats enough for me. Same goes for Alexa. Bit of an overprotective older sister figure, but its easy to see she wants the best for you. The benefit of being a warforge is you start to notice what people are trying to say when they dont know how to say it."
"Gig had that problem too. Too many people trying to say what he was or wasn't thinking. It scared people. People reacting to their fears causes problems and Alexa is full of fear. But not Solus," he observes, "maybe thats why Alexa is so jealous of her. Hah hah hah."
The mechanical laughter causes birds to take flight nearby. "Gig told me that Clemens was part of my repairs," the large metal man states, "at around the same time he told me about the blood. So one way of looking at that is that I'll be fine when the time comes. I've done it before, separating and merging things. Then Clemens can throw some magical coolant on me or something. You get Solus back, everyone wins." A tap of his finger against the side of his frame, "Of course, Gig is known for being full of shit more times than not."
“Overprotective is an understatement.” She musters up a small chuckle. Although, it rings out as dead as Ford trying to laugh as a warforged. “Still though, she reminds me of Solus in some ways. I guess it’s that grounding attribute she gives me. Now I find myself second guessing my actions before I do them. I don’t know if that’s a good thing or a bad thing at times but its something that just for a moment, doesn’t make me feel like a monster to everyone else. I care for her a lot; I hate to say it though, because I don’t want others to use her to get to me …again. I don’t want to put her in danger. I think that’s why Nova attacked her to begin with. She knows I care for Alexa.”
Syn raises her arms up into the air to let out a stretch. “And with Gig, he says a lot of cryptic things.” She says matter-of-factly. “Annoyingly so. Some round about half-truth or something. So maybe Clemens can help, but to what extent and how, I wonder.” She crosses her arms. “That is also another issue that’s been on the back burner, the fight ahead of us made us all focus on that but Alexa said she too made a deal with him. He is methodically weaving into a lot of peoples lives in this party and not a single one of us knows why.” She pauses then taps him on his metal pauldron with a ting sound that follows. “Regardless, it’s a potential solution if you do…you know, shut off. I don’t have a clue about warforged or much about how you actually carry the power to function other than that crystal of yours. So maybe in the event shit goes south, if there is anything else I might need to know, now would be a good time to mention it.”
"Gig built me," Ford explains like it is an annoying fact of life, "so he is the expert on how things work. I know little bits here and there about the same that you know how your lungs and heart work. I know there are words that can disable me, which amused me to no end when Jacob tried to use them incorrectly when I woke up." He lets out a fresh metal laugh, "Hah hah hah. You should have seen his face." A pause to represent a fresh breath of air without any air to be breathed in. "I know I can expend the energy in more core to self destruct." A quick glance to Syn on that, "Which I dont know the words to anymore, so don't worry. Not going to go full Astroix on the situation. The words have been jumbled up since I came back. Instead my resonator is acting weird. Hence all this 'pull shit apart' and 'force shit together'." A metal tap on his side, "Dying is a lot like a light turning off," he replies in tactless macabre shift, "just 'snap' darkness. Its painless. I thought I'd go to Avernus but I believe my core houses my soul and it cant leave. So there is no stakes or risk to me getting hurt too badly." He downplays that a bit. "What I am trying to say here is 'Don't worry'. Compared to this woobly soul magic crap going on right now, mine is almost an arcanomechanical equation that needs to be resolved by someone smart. And thats assuming worst case scenerio. I got a book to finish writing and I can't write it if Im turned off."
A quick glance to the side of his face. “Gig?” There is a momentary pause before the tiefling perched on his shoulder starts bursting out in laughter. “Hang on, wait!” She keeps laughing. “You mean to tell me---” yep, still laughing. “That you can detonate like a big gigantic BOMB and the only person who knows the words to set it off is…. GIG!?” She rolls backwards laughing, catching the lip of his shoulder to catch herself accidently falling off from laughing. “I don’t-- I don’t know why Im so surprised by this. I’m sorry for---l-laughing!” She settles down from her laughing fit. “Well still though, its good to know that you wont just blow up out there if you push yourself too much….wait, if he made you then what was your original purpose? Do you remember? Before the Thatchers?”
"What was your original purpose," Ford asks back to Syn, turning his head so that it fully faces her. "I imagine as a small, squishy little baby it was just to roll around and cry. Hah hah hah." The head turns back to the sunset. "My chassis was built for assault and for raiding on land and on the sea. My soul? I don't think that is how it works. My first memories was that of James Thatcher. It was like being born into a family from the first day. Gig was sort of like the doctor in the delivery room? I suspect I remember the same amount of my birth as you do yours." A tap of metal against his side as he thinks, "I never gave it much thought. Gig did know the words for every warforge. Yet he never used them. We were all given the ability to chose to use them ourselves and from what I've seen, it looks like that is what happened. I suppose I could ask him what the new words are, but I know the answer would be something like 'What do you think they are?' or 'That would be telling, and no fun at all.'"
Red glowing eyes between plates of metal stare back at the tiefling. A chuckle from his words. “Pffft, nope cannot unsee that mental image now thanks.” She watches him turn back to the sunset, turning her head to join the gaze of shifting colors between green leaves. “Well yeah you could ask him and you’re probably right in that he’d say something along those lines but, I dunno…do you even want to know the words? I mean, would anything be different if you did know? Unless someone accidently says them and you go BOOM!” She throws her hands up into the air and few birds go flying out of the trees when she shouts. “Ah unless the word is boom, that would be ironic.”
"The word being BOOM does sound like something Gig would do," Ford observes, "but we've managed to say it a few times without me exploding. That would have been a real downer." For a moment he thinks on that. Does he want to know what the words are. "Knowing the words if the words still work is important, yes. Its part of who I am and what I can do. Would I want to use them? I like to think not, but its hard to say 'whatever it takes' if you never find out what the limits of what you can do. Then its more 'some of what it takes' or 'meh, if I feel like it today' levels of committed." He offers a half shrug with the shoulder Syn isn't using. "Besides, its powerful stuff. In theory it takes out things as strong as angels. If the option is to be obliterated by an uncompromising judgmental sky-jerk or taking him out with me. Obvious choice. Hate those guys."
Her hand comes up to tap the middle of her chin with her pointer finger, “Well then, you should ask next time, even if it’s a dumb answer, it might be enough to start thinking about what they are, and hope nobody else knows them too. That would be bad…” A slight nod and a gaze towards the fading light of day. “We should go back. Probably wondering where we are and I wanted to help fortify the place for the battle….” A pause followed by an elbow nudge to the side of his head. It doesn’t do anything, but a muffled ding. “Thanks by the way...for talking....”
"In a minute," Ford replies back. Just a moment longer to remember this. "And..." he thinks of the words, "Same." Nothing deep or prophetic. A longer moment in the setting sun with Syn Thatcher before he turns and walks back. A normal pace this time.