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I will just sit back and write anything that comes to me! No plans!
Rash criticism is encouraged and very much appreciated!

We go from here!
>>281563
-------------------------------------------------
"LISTEN HERE YOU LITTLE FUCK, this is a military base. It has rules." You state as you point at her with your finger from below, giving few fucks about the public "And you WILL push down every single last one of them down your throat, or I will... IF YOU DO THAT I CAN... listen, if..."

Wait.

Preah stares at you with her tiny, bright smile as you point at her chin with your finger. You realize she's one head taller than you, so right now she's looking down at you.

You freeze. You were about to threaten an Arma.
A being born to fight, main and kill monstrosities so big you could use their backs as professional football fields.
A being expensive at least as half this very whole motherfucking base.
Beings so dangerous they had to evacuate a whole city for them to use as a training field, and even so managed to raze a car factory two towns further.

...And she's giving you this silly smile from above.

You unfreeze, slowly. You nod the finger a bit more, then turn around and head for the door.

Free. Free at last, to bath in your own bullshit. For the very five seconds it took you to hear footsteps behind you, then your freedom became denial, and slowly but surely, boiling rage.

Alas, there it is. Amidst the darkness of dealing with bullshit you don't deserve, light shines dimly from a trashcan.

"ooooooooh" you mutter, as you head towards it.

Then you grab the cat, turn around and show it to Preah; she smiles brightly.

"You follow my every word or I fuck this cat harder than my ex did me with divorce."

"Meow!"

The brown cat shakes its head playfully against your black glove; then purrs; as both you and Preah stare at it; you in confusion, she a little startled.

"OK!" she almost yells as she barely lifts her head towards you.

Oh, well... That went well.
You turn around; guys in armor talking loudly by a corner, helmets with green visors hiding their faces, as the usual folks come and go and do their things and buy their food and say their words.
They seem happy.
This base is inside a village of old age, done as a temporary measure to watch over the ship until its done, shining, and ready to part; you can even see it from here. That over there, that's your next home. Most likely, your final home; the big and majestic air-ship.

You sigh slowly under your breath; sometimes you'd rather not be this much of an asshole, but Armas are childish, retard strong, and Preah is just six years old. A little boy or a little girl, inside a dangerous body six feet too big.

Oh, well. Perhaps you are over-reacting.

>"I need a drink". Head to a bar, sit, and enjoy the moment the moment.
>Just wander around, get to know the place. Maybe there's a nice view somewhere.
>HQ, then take off the damn gear already.
>>
>>291624
>HQ, then take off the damn gear already.
>>
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>>291678

Because first things first, and this shit is just too heavy. You approach the group of big guys, wearing the same armor as you, struggling between yelling and whispering because of the muffled helmets. You clear your throat (a bit hard, it hurt) and they turn to you.

"The fuck do you think you are, going "hmmm hmmm! on my ass?"" says one of the soldiers.

"Calm your perky tits sarge," you ask, politely, "and tell me where's HQ. Shit is breaking my neck."

"Yeah, same here."

"Fuck man, yes."

"Man, you got some booty on you!" the soldier lifts his chin towards Preah, and they all turn to her. "And some pussy!" he points at the cat.

"That's an Arma." you state, sad. "This is the only pussy I get to fuck." you shake the cat slightly, and as you scratch its head it struggles to grab your fingers with its brown paws.

One of the soldiers shrug.

"Man, what the fuck.. HQ's over there, around that corner. See?" He points. "Be seeing yaw negro."

You nod, turn and walk; Preah follows.
Helmet just drops on the floor, and bounces slightly; if it can't take this shit then a fucking bullet is out of the question. It takes some time to remove the weird shit on your chest and shoulders. It's what sustains the EKE field. And it doesn't fuck with your neck, so you leave on the bed with caution. Then the belts drop. Then the jacket. Then you tie off the belts behind those hard things on your knees, they fall right off.

You look in the mirror. Take a deep, deep breath; exhale.

And wonder if you ever had a choice.

A man on its forties, bald with brown spots in the face and a great, brownier beard, smiles sadly at you; he looks so alive, though!

You try to open the handle with your feet and the heel get stuck as you open the door, it drags your leg along as you scream impure words of heresy. Next thing you know, Preah is staring at you from above, still fucking smiling.

"Hi Pedro!"

You mutter something along the lines of "braindead" under your breath, then stand. As you open your mouth to let the bullshit flow you spot from the corner of your eye a blonde man rushing towards you, a maniac look on its face.
>>
"DUDE IS IT TRUE? IS THAT THE ARMA? OH MY GOD"

>Shake your head and leave.
>Explain.
>>
>>291832
I'm adding a new choice!

>Smash him right in the face, then feign insanity.
>>
>>291821
>Explain
Let's not do anything too drastic.
>>
>>291872

"Look," you gesture with your hands, looking towards the floor, "shit happened." He blocks the way as you try to walk. You sigh.

"SHE'S SO CUTE TO, WHATS YOUR NAME?"

"I'm Preah!" She says, closing her eyes as she smiles. You never though someone could actually pull the "^_^" in real life. "I'm a Hero of Time!"

"OH MAN THATS SO COOL, IM CARLOS" he says as she shakes her hand a bit too strong, a bit too fast; Preah takes it in stride as she keeps smiling. "YOU SANK THE CARGO SHIP, WHY DID YOU SANK THE CARGO SHIP MAN THAT WAS SO COOL"

"I-I didn't meant to!" She says, looking worried, "There was one of those big things, and it was going to eat the ship!

"I KNOW I SAW I WAS THERE ON THE OTHER SHIP THAT WAS SO COOL!"

"No! That wasn't cool!" She pouts hard at him.

"SO WHAT HAPPENED?"

"We used the Iva-Novus as a fucking boat, then landed on a fucking himehorn village. We had to work like a fucking week until we got the radio working."

"MAN FUCK THOSE HIMMYS AM I-?"

"...Thens he just drifted there like a plank." You point at Preah as you cut him off. "And that's it. Now, we have to go."

"WHERE?"

"Um, shopping."

"IS SHE YOUR GIRLFRIEND NOW?"

"No man, no."

"OKAY DUDE."

He steps out of the way like he was introducing you to a circus or something; you just walk through, and hear Preah mutter a "bye!" as you head towards the door. At the street, you look around until someone finally passes, you ask him the time; it's getting a bit late.

"He seems nice!"

It's Preah. Smiling as usual.

"He has maniac depressive disorder," you answer sweetly, "and he doesnt sleep that much."

"What does that mean?"

"It means he needs things to be clean and shining."

"Oh I... see!"

You turn around.

"Pedro."

You turn around again; she tilts her head at you.

"Am I bothering you?"

>"YES."
>"So far so good."

>Have a drink.
>Take a walk around.
>Ask Preah what she wants to do.

You'd rather have that drink alone, but if the gods wills it this way then fuck it.
>>
>>291968
>Ask Preah what she wants to do.
Carlos better not make jokes
>>
>>291985

"So far, so good. Don't fuck it up."

"Okay!"

"So, what now?"

"What do you mean, Pedro?" Preah blinks at you.

"What do you want to do now?"

She noticeable ponders at this, dragging a balled up first at her chin as she looks at the gray clouds over the dazzling sun.
Then she raises a finger.

"Are there videogames around here? Mine kinda broke." The armor on her left tight opens with a sharp sound, she fumbles inside as she looks at you and then opens the right one as she takes her hand off. She soon produces a PSP, the screen shattered, and shows it to you with both hands. It's not even a Vita.

"So, you want us to look for a videogame store?"

She nods, and nods.

"Can you afford the damn thing?"

She shakes, and shakes. God fucking dammit, and soon you are at a videogame store, facing the clerk.

"Good day."

"Hi, good day. Can you fix this?"

You hand him the obliterated, wet, and shattered PSP; it almost melts in his hand. He raises his eyes to you, then to Preah. You frown.

"Alright, how much for a new one?"

"Two hundred dollars." He looks at you straight in the eye. You nod, slowly.

"Your ass and my arm are in the same timeline and universe." You state, picturing with your hands the vastness of the universe and it's complexity. "So, with some effort, art, and patience, I can fit the entirety of it... inside of you."

"I'm calling security."

"Inside your ass." You calmly explain, like an old man warning a child of the dangers of loving too much. "And you can help this. Because there's no fucking way a twenty year old PSP is worth two hundred dollars. So I'm offering you a deal; you are reasonable, and I am reasonable. How does that sound, mi amigo?"

His eyes are fixed on the red, big button his hand is hovering over... but he suddenly looks at you.

"150 and you get three games."

"So, you want it hard."

He shakes his head decisively. "The 150 cover the three games. It's like 120, but I sell you three games."

You "hmm" at this, somewhat satisfied. And soon, Preah is smiling blankly at a shining screen as her fingers taka-taka at a tiny black box.

Well! That'll keep her busy. What now?

>Try to leave Preah at HQ (fuck them) then have a drink.
>Have a drink. Fuck it all.
>>
>>292130
>Have a drink. Fuck it all.
>>
>>292144

They wanted you to babysit Preah, so guess what? That's exactly what you are going to do.

Drunk.

You struggle your way into the bar as Preah follows, it's filled with people talking and dancing. Some soldiers sit by, either at the bar or at a table, and drink their beer from a straw since their helmets are still on. You briefly wonder why would anybody would choose to wear that shit, as Preah flinches and lets out a slight moan, then hangs on to you.
You grin.

Finally, you reach the bar and sit, Preah sitting next to you and certainly getting attention. She somehow seems too fond of you, and that naivety can and will bring bullshit to this world in one way or the other. It's not cute. It's not funny. It's a pretty form of insanity, one you want either away or punished. A man on his thirtys sits to her side and gropes her hair; Preah turns at him, smiling as usual, and the man keeps talking as his hand slowly drifts towards her waist.
You take a sip. Armas are ripped from their genre, genitals and organs as they are born, so, technically, Preah's not actually a woman. And she may need the lesson in naivety, for her sake and yours before they pin on you for this shit or the next.

>Just let it happen.
>Well, they pay you for this.
>>
>>292204
>Well, they pay you for this.
She still is a kid, mentally. So it would be wrong of us to let this happen. Plus this will earns us some good karma points.
>>
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>>292215

You don't get paid enough for this shit; and you know it. But when there's no choice there's also no regrets, so you walk up to the guy and your first lands on his cheek like the meteor did on Earth thirty years ago; now there's water everywhere.

His head bounces at the bar and then he falls on the floor like a cheap mannikin; everybody turns to you, as you sit, take a deep sip, and wonder how's your daughter doing at school since you haven't seen her in five long years.

Soon, and after some whispering, activity resumes. The guy is mopped from the bar and thrown in an alley, it seems everybody either playing dumb or lacked balls; some people like this stuff.

You feel a hand in your arm clenching softly, and turn you beard towards Preah. She's shaking.

"That guy had it coming." you state. "Those white strips by your side mean you are still a youngling."

"I... don't really mind!" her smile is still there, struggling. "He didn't hurt me, it kind of felt good actually... I think my hair is pretty sensitive!" She shakes her hair a bit, but her eyes are watering a bit. "So... was he going to hurt me?"

"Nobody can hurt you." You take another sip. "It's a matter of morality. Of ethics. You don't do that kind of shit to a kid."

"I... see." She brightens; barely. "Thank you!" Preah gives you the "^_^". You glance at it as you take another sip; the glass is almost empty by now; she's still doing it after you finish the whole thing. Armas don't drink. Or eat. They just... live.

"Hey." You point towards a black guy, cheerfully talking to a black lady. He looks handsome. "Wanna make a friend?"

"Sure!"

"Go over there to that guy and say "NIGGER!". It has to be loud."

She tilts her head at you again. It seems you are brewing more a shitstorm than you expected her to.

"Why?"

""NIGGER!" is a greeting in their native language, so you would be making him feel, I dunno, welcome in this far town."

"But I don't know the rest of his language, what do I do if he starts talking to me?"

"It doesn't matter, it's just good manners. Just go there and have fun!" You blink at her, she blinks back and rises from the chair. You attempt another sip as you watch her go, but your glass is already empty; you don't manage to hear her, yet you laugh your ass off when you see the look on his face, so hard you actually fall from the chair. Preah glances, then turns and looks at you; laughing as well.

Time goes by and she's dragging you towards HQ, her head under your shoulder as you struggle to understand where the fuck you are. You ask her to drop you at one of those plaza chairs you noticed on the distance; she walks you there, then carefully drops you.
After a while of just staying there with your eyes closed, you notice a railing nearby and walk towards it; behind the railing it's the ocean. And, somewhat near, the gigantic, majestic ship that will take you places. You whistle, faintly.
>>
A blunt sound and a crack, and Preah is leaning on her back against the railing, her purple hair falling towards the cliff, and you are still not that drowzy. She's giving you a funny look along her usual smile, like asking you "what did you expect". You are projecting and you know it, but that doesn't stop a sigh to come out from your lips.

>Talk to her. (write in)
>Talk to her.
>>
>>292369
>Talk to her. (write in)
"So what do you think of nature as a whole?"
>>
>>292380

"I think nature is very nice!"

She ponders at this like before, raising her balled up fist towards her chin until she rises a finger.

"I think nature and technology are the same. Like, there are very little beings that plan, work, and fix, and that they have their own ships, the mosquitoes and the birds! But with all sort of things, I mean. I think a cat is like a ship too, maybe you are a ship to a lot of tiny things, too!"

She tilts her head at you, again. It seems she likes doing it.

"Is that too odd?"

>Talk to her. (write in)
>Talk to her.
>>
>>292408
>"True, the bigger cat will always eat the smaller mouse, so I guess it's more or less the same technology. Competition is everywhere."
>>
>>292424
"the same with techology"*
>>
>>292424

"I... never really liked that."

She gives she a sad smile; it seems most of her gestures come with a smile.

"Why does it has to be like that? There's just so much food, and so many things to make things out of... and I don't even eat, you can eat my food if you want to."

Another smile.

"I... just want to have fun. You know? They tell me to stay at my post, but nothing ever happens there. That one time, that was the first time I ever saw a "They"! I learned so much about them, but I don't think I would have seen one if I just stood there, so they aren't the reason I got stuck... it's because of the other people and the other Armas. Right? That's the competition... right?"

She looks at the distance.

"Why can't people just have fun?"

>Talk to her. (write in)
>Talk to her.
>>
>>292474
"Nothing lasts forever, not even Armas. Sooner or later someone's time will come, whether it's through old age or getting killed. That's why fun is something rare, many fear death and are too busy surviving the day to have enjoyment."
>>
>>292496

"But why do they fight each other?"

>Talk to her. (write in)
>Talk to her.
>>
>>292504
"Because the universe is too small for everything to live."
>>
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>>292508

"And a lot smaller now that everything is under water. Now, everybody lives in ships; air-ships, hybrid ships, submarines... the ones under the water do the scavenging, the ones over it do the trades. We pillage the old world the best we can ,and then kill each other over any shit we stumble upon."

You look towards the horizon; the peaceful, sudden singing of a bird startles you. Preah follows it with her eyes until it fades into a small, red dot into the gray clouds. "Yes. This universe is too small."

"It's not out of evil or anything; even if sometimes we come up with excuses to fight so we don't feel we are killing just for ourselves. Most people aren't ready to swallow that truth."

She looks at you; she's not smiling, but she doesn't look sad, either. "Have you seen the world before the rain?"

You nod, and this time it's you that's smiling.

"I was thirteen. And would you believe it?" Your cheeks puff, as you laugh a little. "It was the same shit! Everyone's going about how everything used to be better, but god dammit Preah, people killed each other for food even then! It just... it just wasn't that straight, you know?" If you had a smoke it would have been long gone by now. "At least now we are honest about it. But you always, always have to fight for food! Even if you can grow it, you always fucking have to fucking fight for food because some ASSHOLE that can't get his ass to work wants to take it from you. There's... there no way out."

You look at her; she winces.

"Not even for you."

She's looking at the floor, and she feels... so small now, for some reason. Like the kid she is.

>Talk to her. (write in)
>Talk to her.
>>
>>292566
"Though the world may be small, that doesn't mean we can not enjoy the simple things in life like this view. If you worry about every cause and effect, you wouldn't be living at all. We must make our own miniature sanctuary in this miniature world."
>>
>>292613

"Even," your voice breaks, "if we have to kill for it."

You attempt to lose yourself in the endless ocean, as you lean in the railing, so the memories don't find you.

They do.

You glance at Preah giving you a troubled look, not smiling either. There are those who hunt Armas for the fuel inside of them, called "anima" after some religious duckshit, since ten drops of the thing are worth half a month of clean water... and Armas have one and a half gallons of anima. It's retarded in that Armas are the sole reason the "They" haven't swallowed the rest of us whole, but yeah, there are those who don't give half two shits about making sense...

So not even her is safe.

Suddenly, you yawn; Preah looks at you startled, and then yawns too. Today, and against all odds, the Arma didn't wreck, burn, obliterate, sink, kill, decimate, broke, or stole anything. Maybe she's not a brain-dead, retarded six years old kid on godlike steroids. Maybe this could even be fun.

Who knows.

>Talk (write in)
>Head towards HQ; it feels half your brain is shutting down.
>>
>>292691
>Head towards HQ; it feels half your brain is shutting down.
They're both tired, time for some snooze.
>>
>>292704
In the horizon, it feels like the sun is setting behind the gray clouds, a wonderful, golden color struggling to give life to this gray island.

You turn your back on it; and feel very lost as you look towards the small city. Preah follows as you both wander around the city in peaceful silence, until a single word comes across and lifts a weight from your shoulders.

"Hotel".

You are tired, drunk, sad, and you got the money; and it's not like you feel like thinking, either.

So in you go.

"A room please."

The old lady with the big glasses takes her time to analyze the both of you, then draws a pen and starts writing on a small notebook on the table.

"It will be fifty dollars."

Thankfully, you are drunk enough not to get mad or care. You hand the money, she points towards the stairs. You walk towards it.

"No screaming!" she says.

You laugh slightly under your breath. Might as well find some kid and fuck him in the ass; it wouldn't be that dangerous, at least. These people are fucking crazy.

And Preah is crazy, too. Why would she give a fuck about you.

This is what you think as you lay in your bed, looking at the wooden ceiling. On a whim you turn your head towards the other bed and catch Preah looking at you, she quickly covers her head with the green and blue blanket.

God dammit. God. Dammit.
>>
Taking a small break now! =w=

How am I doing so far?
>>
>>292760
You have a strange way of making things look grim or cutesy.
>>
>>292765
As long as it works!

I'll be back in an hour or so. Thanks for the fun, anon!
>>
>>292772
Alright, thanks
>>
You wake up, turn around, and find the next bed empty. Which means:

1: An Arma is on the loose.
2: FUCK.

It's like you are sliding from the stairs, the landing on the floor blunt and strong; you find the old woman has shapeshifted into a young black man with freckles during the night.

"Heeeeeey man! Had a nice sleep?"

Wheter this is fair or not, this is, in fact, YOUR shit. Nobody has to know you lost the bloody thing.

"YO NIGGA ZIP ZIP, DID YOU NIGGAS SAY A HOTTIE WITH PURPLE HAIR? MAN, DATS SOME BOOTY KNOW WHAT AM SAYIN?"

He stares at you raising both eyebrows, then smiles.

"I think she left, my brotha! The one with the whole machinery going on, right? Yeah, like ten minutes ago, just run man!"

"AY AY YO THANK YOU BROTHA, EAST SIDE NIGGA"

"Yeah" he nods, slowly, as you almost crash into the door.

Outside, you look left, you look right, and there's no Arma to be seen.

FUCK.

>Check the bar. Maybe she went to call people "NIGGER."
>Look for the HQ, then ask/threaten somebody for an air ride.
>Just wander around, she can't be that far!
>FUCK.
>>
>>293065
>Just wander around, she can't be that far!
>>
>>293106

Alright, this ship can't be that big. You walk, and walk, as the gentle, cold morning breeze caresses your cheeks; it makes you want to give up on it all, and just head back to bed.

You don't.

No cars on this city, so there are no structure for streets either; going up and down on steps, small systems of alleys, a variety on height among buildings; it has a lot of things you aren't used to, and you find the news fresh and fun. You peer here, there, a bit of here, oh sorry man, there, there, and there, until your stomach says "stop" and you dare to believe that Preah can't blow up the entire island if you take your eyes from her for at least five more minutes. A gentle old man points you out to a nice, old-looking restaurant, and something soft grabs your hand just as you are about to get in.

It's Preah. Looking at you with purple,wide open eyes. They are so close, and seem so deep, that you swallow on reflex. It's like you could fall on them. Then you recall that this color is a common side effect of their treatment, and all the magic fades with the explaination.

"Hiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii!"

You hear her long, long introduction as it rises in scale, then is cut suddenly. She closes her eyes and smile as she finishes.

"I got you food!" She lifts her left hand, dragging along like five white bags filled with cans and fruit. "I wanted to make you breakfast, but I got lost."

You fumble through the pocket in our pants, feel your wallet, then stare in terror. "How did you pay for all of that?"

"Pay?"

You just stare at her. The background sound of people talking and bikes going around suddenly grows strong.

It has begun.

>You go back or search wherever the hell she took these from, and have her give them back. Time to learn the good old way!
>Just... just go. Nobody has to know, and you'd rather not have someone scream at her out of innocence. Most people don't know an Arma when they see it, since their "body" is much like our uniforms.
>>
>>293198
>You go back or search wherever the hell she took these from, and have her give them back. Time to learn the good old way!
If they're still get mad then we could at least offer to wash dishes.
>>
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>>293224

"The good old way" you think to yourself as you drag Preah by hand. Meanwhile, you recall that time you broke the television. Your father beaten the shit out of you because you and your buddy wanted to try baseball.

The bags on Pariah’s hand have a name on them in curvy letters, and it doesn't take you long to match them with the ones on the big window.

It's a supermarket.

You drag Preah in and you don't have to do a thing before the cashiers turn around at her, and you glance at what seems to be the manager rushing towards you. He gives the both of you a quizzical, somewhat angry look.

"HEY LOOK, THERE SHE IS" he's yelling. Alright, we got one of those. "THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING?"

"Easy, glassy." you get between them.

"DID YOU COME TO STEAL AGAIN? DID YOU COME TO STEAL AGAIN?"

"Sir, why the fuck would anybody do that?" Preah is literally hiding behind you.

"Call security" he says to one of the cashiers, who nods, and heads out. The manager attempts to surround you, and Preah keeps on spinning around you. "You fuck up YOU HEAR ME YOU-"

He's cut short as you grab his neck with your hand to stop him from orbit ting around you. You measure your grip carefully, he grabs your arm with both hands, as people around stop, stare, and whisper.

"Now, let's be reasonable." You give him the classic death stare from a man who got a friend blown to pieces next to him. "Allow me the benefit to explain." He gags; you wait a little. "Thank you. This here, is an Arma; she seems like an adult, but has the mentality of a six years old. She doesn't know much how things work, and even if she did, if she came back with your stuff, is not to keep on stealing you brain-dead fuck. She's here to make things right. Am I right, Preah?" You feel her grip on your shoulders harden, and you can tell she's nodding. "See?" The man swallows, as his head grows slightly blue. "She's sorry. So, here is your-"

"FREEEEEZE!"

God. FUCKING. Dammit. And that is exactly what you needed, another gun pointed at your bald nape. The manager falls to the floor as you let him go, and you slowly raise both arms towards the ceiling. He points at Preah, she winces.

"Preah, copy me. Preah? Copy me. You hear?"

She nods, then slowly rises her shaking arms, perhaps wondering if she's doing it right. The manager fixes his necktie as he rises form the floor, his blue face now red with anger. He starts yelling to the both of you, but doesn't get any closer; Preah is listening with closed eyes.

Well; this is bound to be a lesson.

At least the policewoman pushing Preah around does it gently, and you can tell she's not being mean when she talks to her ear. The both of you are now sitting in the back of one of those tiny magnetic air-sliders; it looks kinda neat, and that policewoman is the driver. She lifts, moves around a bit as Preah clenches your hand with some strength (some, as in, holy shit should I tell her she could break it or would that be too rude)...
>>
...and she looks at you in the eyes. Crying her hearts out. Once upon a time, you were on drugs and raped a woman that threatened to call her husband on you because you puked on the street. But these eyes are free from that, and you feel very, very compelled to pat her head and hold her...

>Do it.
>Don't. She fucked up.
>>
>>293326
>Do it.
>>
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>>293339

You take a quick, deep breath, and then hold her her against you as you pat her head, and caress her hair. The metal of her feels rough and cold against your body, but you endure it out of kindness. She fucked up, alright; but the true mastery is learning while suffer as least as possible. And you don't want Preah to believe everybody is a cold, bat-shit insane money-grubbing asshole. At least not you. You both bounce on the backseat suddenly, and get startled; the speeder has landed. The policewoman turns towards Preah. She's alone, her hair is white and short, and one of her eyes is white with a scar around it.

"Dear, that guy is nuts. Not your fault, not my fault, not baldy's fault that he wanted to crush some sense into that head of his."

"Um... lady? Where are we?"

"Home. You can just walk from here back to the island; I own this thing, so this is the only other place I could land besides the station. And that one's on a roof."

You exhale a good bunch of air in relief; Preah looks at her, her eyes still watering.

"S-so..." she cleans her eye with her black finger. "Am I... are we?"

"Sweetheart, you've got to learn not to bear the crap of crazy morons. It's like when you pet a cat; sometimes they want, sometimes they don't. Sometimes you are too rough and scare them. Sometimes they are just... catty." She "hmms" to herself, suddenly spacing out. Then she looks at Preah. "Today is the cat!" She smiles, as she nods.

"Holy mother of fuck," you blurt out, "an actual human being."

"Thank you. I know you got to go, but I can get you some coffee if you feel like it."

You think about it.

>Go.
>Don't go.
>>
>>293318>Do it.
>>
>>293377
>Go.
>>
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>>293389

And why the hell not; you find a human being with working brains and you just let her go? No fucking chance, man, seriously.

She opens the door to her house. You jaw drops a little; the inside is a bloody mess, with piles of clothes to the side, an open refrigerator, a... is that a bed? Is that... bed shaped like a banana? It is, and not horizontally; vertically. Yeah, your jaw isn't going up anytime soon, and then you look to the side and meet face to face with... a ferret. It looks very cute, from over that hill of books, cases, videogames, and a trombone. It reaches out to your nose, and you poke his with yours; it starts dancing and jumping in excitement doing that happy sound, and then it just falls to the void. You open your mouth widely, and as you turn you notice the police woman showing Preah around the house; the Arma still gloomy, but nodding as she's talked to. Then your heart goes back down as you notice tiny feets climbing your leg, and suddenly you have a ferret on a shoulder like the poorest pirate would have. Preah turns to you, and all of her sadness is washed away; she rushes towards you and stares in excitement at the ferret as she gives this tiny jumps of joy; the thing on your shoulder mimicking her.

Looking beyond the odd ritual, you notice the policewoman is gone... but before your paranoia strikes in, another woman comes back carrying a dish filled with cookies and the sort, her hair golden and messy and her body enveloped by simple pajamas. She has... horns.

"Hi, good day!"

She's not looking at you as she talks.

"Mind following me to the kitchen? I bet this place might be a bit messy."

God dammit, she must be blind to believe the "bit" part. Both you, Preah, and the ferret follow her regardless.
>>
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The kitchen however is a tidy, gleaming place, filled with tiny details of many sorts like a dream catcher, a tiny bronce cannon, and a death-star shaped lamp, that Preah stares at with in utter awe. The blonde woman is crouching almost under it, and when she rises the big dish is on one of those chinese tables surrounded by comfy-looking pillows, the policewoman sitting on a somewhat tall looking chair, struggling to reach a cookie.

You both sit by the sides, the ferret still on your shoulder.

"You know," you say, nodding firmly, "this is way more than coffee."

"We don't half-ass things around here" says the policewoman, and the ferret suddenly jumps towards her; it falls short and lands on the floor with a blunt sound as you glance at Preah wincing, and then it climbs the policewoman's legs until it rests over her white hair. "Don't worry. This thing is sturdy." She strokes the head over her head."

"I take you both are new here!" it's the blonde woman. "I go by Snacks!"

"I'm Trash."

"Trash?"

She frowns. "Some asshole changed my name from the very database. And would you believe it..." she frowns further. "It stuck."

"Mine is just a nickname!" says the blonde, "I just don't want her to feel alone."

"So" Trash says, finally grasping a cookie. "You both must be new here. What do you wanna know?"

>Talk (write in).
>Wait for Preah to talk.
>>
>>293470
Try to push her away as hard as you can
>>
>>293664
As in, you stand, go there, have her stand, then push her away?

Or just reaching out from across the table and push her away?

And who?

And why? ;w;
>>
>>293672
You push her hard to make her fall over the ground and possibly hit her head so she'd die.
>>
>>293673
It won't be easy to convince the MC to do that.

Try to be compelling, like a voice on his head. I'll do my part. =w=
>>
>>293676
Grab the policewoman's gun and shoot the blonde, then push their bodies as hard as you can.
>>
>>293679
What for?
>>
>>293680
The person that killed your parents was a cop, and he was also blonde, so you intend to kill the blonde and frame the policewoman to get revenge. You then push the policewoman into the blonde as hard as you can.
>>
>>293683

You aren't even trying. =w=
>>
>>293691
What makes me say that? You then decide to push the blonde instead into the policewoman.
>>
>>293694
What for?

Try to cheat the MC, give him a compelling reason. Otherwise, it will be like those voices in your head telling you to jump of a cliff.
>>
>>293700
You see the policewoman grab her gun to try and shoot you, because she's actually a criminal pretending to be a cop. You try to grab her gun and shoot the blonde, then push the gun as hard as you can.
>>
>>293702
What makes you think she's a criminal?
>>
>>293710
Because she's carrying a gun.
>>
>>293712
Life must be hard on you. ._.
>>
>>293714
Just do it, then push her off the door with the blonde as hard as you can.
>>
>>293716
Smash the keyboard on your head.
It has to break or it doesn't count.
>>
>>293717
What for?

Try to cheat me, give me a compelling reason. Otherwise, it will be like those voices in my head telling me to jump of a cliff.
>>
>>293470
Someone jammed a cleaver between your brain lobes. Looks like the last night has decided to show its consequences just now.
Coffee won't cut it, ask them if they have something to nurse the hangover.

>>293718
Nigga you tryin too hard
>>
>>293722
Please kill yourself.
>>
>>293718
Without a keyboard, you can't use a PC.
And without the PC... just think about all the stuff you could do, without the temptation to drift on the Internet, or play silly rpg games ruled more by luck than skill!

Ladies!

Money!

Friends!

Maybe you'd find a new, nice job! Maybe you'll get to travel somewhere far and new, some place exotic, then meet new people and do new things, and do cool things like sky-diving or scuba-diving or just diving because it's nice!

And when it's all said and done, if you still want to go back to the PC, you can get a brand new one with all the latest stuff and the now fresh feeling of gaming after a long time of not doing it.

All it takes, is for you to smash your keyboard on your head. And why not simply throw it in the trashcan, or sell it, or just leave it there and go? Think of it as a symbolism; a proof of your determination. A leap to new things.

I believe in you, anon! All it takes is for you to do so, too!
>>
>>293722
I-I think a cleaver to the head would have a different set of consequences. x_x
And it's not something easy to miss!

Now, really! I'm completely willing to do anything anon manages to convince the MC to do. ANYTHING. The only condition, is that it has to make sense; maybe little sense, maybe a bit far-fetched, but as long as it has a link to the plot it can be done.

To put it bluntly, since I don't really enjoy this kind of terminology, you can fuck a cat.

I'll let you do it. =w=
>>
>>293727
What I miss?
>>
>>293470
>Wait for Preah to talk.
>>
>>295281

You didn't board the Iva-Novus to do tourism on a military base, so you just take a cookie, sit back, and munch on the crunchy thing; it's a bit salty, surprisingly.

"Are there dolphins in here?"

You glance at her, rising an eyebrow.

"Not as far as I know." says Trash. "We do have those ugly pointless thing going around. I used to feel bad about tripping on them, but they always manage to be in the wrong place at the wrong time." She frowns, again. "I know of one that got inside a house, and then went into the oven because it had meat in it. Then they closed." She scratches her chin, thoughtfully. "I still wonder if they ate it."

Both Preah and Snacks flinch, as you whistle gently.

"Platypus." states Trash, as she nods. "We got, like, many many platypus going around."

"But dolphins are nice." says Preah, leaning a bit closer.

"Aren't you hungry?" It's Snacks; she always had this "tasty smile" on her face. You had never seen so many smiles. At least not since your angry asshole of an instructor, from the military camp, was found sitting in front of an old TV, playing a Barney the Dinosaur video tape, almost screaming from the very dephts of his lungs "THE "B" IS FOR "BANANA, THE "C" IS FOR "CATERPILLAR, THE "D" IS FOR"...

You blink. It seems that, while you were laughing to yourself like a retarded foal, Preah explained the whole thing about Armas eating and the like to the two young ladies.

"So..." it's Trash, her voice muffled by the cookie graveyard on her mouth "this is how one of those Armas look like?"

"Yep!" Preah nods at her. "And I'm a Hero of Time!"

"What does that mean?" Trash swallows; it doesn't seem easy.

You stop yourself from sighing. "Hero of Time" is not a compliment, and it's not used only on Armas either; it has a lot to do with being very, very naive, like the Hero of Time used to be. Preah has been saying for a while that she's one of those, but maybe she just does it because it makes people laugh.

Does she know what that means?

>Explain.
>Let her talk.
>>
>>296091
>Let her talk
We're busy being comfy.
>>
>>296248

You can't talk and eat cookies at the same time; science has proven it. Besides Preah seems very smart for her "age" so far, what could

"It means I fight evil for the good of the world!"

FUCK. The most painful part, to you, is that you dared to believe she could have known.

>Correct her. Bluntly.
>Just... just let her believe. For now. At least for now.
>>
>>296280
>Just... just let her believe. For now. At least for now.
Let's let her have her time, we're all having a good time.
>>
>>296343

If she did tell everybody she met until now that a Hero of Time is actually a hero, then the fall is going to be nasty, so you'd rather spare her this peaceful moment of cookies and chatter with her new friends, as the ferret jumps around and crashes into the mountain of cookies, who seem intent on making her laugh by spewing bullshit; a habit you enjoy. One hour come and goes, and the both of you are leaving with a small bag filled with some cookies, slices of cake, and donuts.

Trash used to be a vigilante, a very fair one; she got in jail so many times the boys with the blue caps started to teach her the ways, so she didn't fuck up; a year later, Trash was on the force.

Snacks is a blind chef whose restaurant got sunk by a "They" along with half the whole island. You guess the actual ship is under the island, supporting it's weight, and balancing it out.

She doesn't have a job yet. Being blind and all doesn't help in the least, but for reasons easy to guess Trash doesn't mind much keeping the blind blonde under her wing.

And while you ponder about if it's actually bad to skip patrol in order to babysit Preah, the Arma brings you back to reality by patting your shoulder with her finger in certain excitement.

The same finger she points at a small platypus, the silly thing moving its legs quickly across the street amidst a crowd, that struggles not to trip on it.

"I want to wander around for a while! Get to know the place!"

"Ok."

She smiles at you, vividly. "Alone!"

You ponder at this. There's no reason to worry about kidnappers or hunters, other than the whole mess their bodies would leave. Arma Hunters are highly trained and specialized, and most are on a big, black list, most likely very far from here.

And yet, you ponder.

>Let her go; we meet here in a while.
>"Well. No." This is your job.
>>
>>296528
>"Well. No." This is your job.
Last time we took our eyes from her, we in a position of dine-and-dash or face the punishment.
>>
>>296603

You take a deep, deep, DEEP breath, and make a point to exaggerate it as MUCH as you can, Preah looking at you almost fascinated; then you face her so suddenly she flinches, a half smile almost hidden in your beard.

"No."

She blinks; then pouts.

"Why!"

"The fuck do you think I tag along with you for, walking dishwasher?"

"Because we are friends?"

You smirk at her, your eyes sad.

"No. The higher ups, the ones that drown in cocks and wine, told me to keep an eye on you. Last time I didn't we almost ended up in jail."

She pauses, then frowns at you."But that was fun!"

"Yeah, and we made some friends. Good times, I feel so old."

"Then we aren't friends?" She gives you the puppy eyes...

"Yes, yes, we are "besties", and tonight we'll have a pillow fight."

"OK."

She "^_^". You'd punch yourself in the jaw if she wasn't here.

"Then again..." she says.

Your self-loathing is cut short by a wicked smile and sharp eyes, as Preah looks at you slightly raising her chin.

"...why should I listen to you?"

"Because, and I swear it for Noctogus, and Leateli, I'm going to fuck that cat if you don't."

"What is "fuck"? You say that a lot."

No. They don't pay you enough. Not fucking nearly.

>Carefully explain. And you ain't fucking with the "carefully" part.
>Change the subject. Not your game, not your fault.
>Bullshit her for some giggles; she's going to find out someday anyway.
>>
>>296679
>Change the subject. Not your game, not your fault.
>>
>>296712

"Hey look, another platypus."

"Where?!" she shouts excitedly and turns. "But," her voice sounds kinda dim, "that's the same we just saw."

"Oh that's right, I just noticed." You get a finger on your ear, and turn it round and round; she blinks at you. "I want to buy some food, so we are going to the supermarket. Military rations are healthy stuff, but gods be fucked if someone finds some flavor in them."

"Ok!" She nods.

"We can wander around for a while after I get my stuff from HQ. Fuckers are dead set on having everyone wear the uniform, it's like they think we could do jack-shit against the big things, or that the Enemaraos fleet is brain-fucked enough to come here over over our EKE field. Its bull-"

"What is "fuck"?"

FUCK.

>Explain.
>Bullshit.
>Later.
>>
>>296766
>Explain
It's a grown up word that grown ups use to express themselves, it's rude to say it in public or in front of kids. Good children do not use these kinds of words unless they are a fully grown, mature, responsible, and polite.
>>
>>296777
person*
>>
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>>296777

She looks at you blankly.

"Fuck!"

She nods, as she smiles. You give her the tired look of a man that put up with the bullshit of ten thousand bosses, each of which was bullied in highschool more than the last.
Until the military.

"So," you start, then clear your throat, "you are a fully grown, mature, responsible, and polite good little kid."

"Yep!"

"What do you think "fully grown" means, kid?"

"I'm taller than you!"

She didn't need to say it, but you'd rather have that other than her staring at you silently from above. So you nod at nowhere, dimly, and slowly.

"I still don't know why you like it so much." She says, blinking. "I don't feel much grown."

"It's a curse word. A bad word, so don't say it in public."

"But you do it all the time!"

"Yeah, but I'm an adult."

"So am I!"

"So you are not."

She pouts. Then...

"Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck...!"

You patiently wait until she runs out of breath; to your surprise, it takes QUITE a while. You glace at your cellphone every now and then; it has been five minutes.

"...fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck...ffuck...fu....fuck...fffffffuuuuuccck...fffff....ffff...ffffffffff..."

She gasps; and starts breathing heavily. You raise an eyebrow at her.

"Growing up much?"

"It doesn't... do... anything!" she's pouting, between breaths.

You chuckle at yourself, and not even slightly. If you can keep her from stealing or wrecking stuff, this just can't be so bad.

>Explain to her what it means to be an adult (write in).
>Convince her that she's not "fully grown, mature, responsible, and/or polite".
>Pat her back, then head to HQ; you already know where to hide the cookies.
>>
>>296852
Moral lesson time.
>"I'm not sure myself, honestly I'm probably not the best adult to be saying this. There's no set list of things a grown-up is, adults can be as cruel as children or living saints. But here's a start, being adult is being able to think for yourself after thinking about the effects your choice will bring. It's understanding the world around you and sticking with your choices to the very end. It's knowing there's no right or wrong and all actions just have different intentions behind them, for different reasons. And letting those who took care of you that you can survive on your own even after their long dead. But hey, that's what I think it means to be "grown up", while someone else can say something entirely different.
>>
>>296893

"Simply put," you state, " being an adult means you understand the consequences of your actions."

She stares at you blankly again, blinking at times.

"You didn't say "fuck."

"It. Doesn't. Matter" you state, gesturing strong with your hands. "Preah," you almost beg, "do understand the world enough to be responsible of the consequences of your actions? In fact, how much do you know about everything?"

She "hmms", looking at the gray sky. Then she smiles brightly at you.

"Not much!"

"Good, then you aren't an adult, and you can't say "fuck", and I can say "fuck" all I want because I do have to deal with consequences.

"I don't think that's a good trade."

You smirk at her, and shake your head.

"Me... me neither."
>>
>>296958
I'll be back in an hour or so! 0w=
>>
>>296960
Ok, senpai
>>
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She smirks at you, too; but pouts softly.

"I still don't know what "fuck" means."

"It comes with the whole understanding thing, and that takes time, so don't worry. Just... just have fun. Have all the fun you can."

She tilts her head at you, to one side, and then the other.


You get the helmet on your head, the green visor still clouded until the inner mechanisms recognize it's you with your beard in here, and then some numbers and shapes here and there come across the green screen. Not even the guys with the big voices that had you clean toilets with a toothbrush knew what those mean, so you don't pay them heed. Then you see it. The picture. That, over there, is your little girl; your big girl, now. Red hair, freckles, and a bit too long of a face, you wonder if highschool was hard on her.
You wonder how much you missed, and if getting fucked-up drunk was worth the exchange.
Door opens, and right across the aisle you can hear the guys shouting. You walk towards the screen until you spot the boys and the soda, everyone so fixated on the screen it feels like the TV and their eyes are polar opposites.
Scratching behind your ear, you look at it; football. The big, red, flaming ball from space couldn't kill the tiny, black and white ball from Earth. You nod firmly towards it.

"Preah, let's go." Your voice sounds very metallic behind the helmet, and somewhat muffled. She looks at you, studies you swiftly, nods quickly, and rises.

"Taking the bitch for a walk, white boy?" It's Bobo, the black soldier that almost broke your back at the Iva-Novus.

"Yeah. I got some beer by the way, you get the steaks."

"Aw yeah niggu, that's how we do things here! What chu want then, pork, sum chicken, red meat?"

"Your pick, I don't feel like thinking."

"Nigga" it's Marcos, another black dude, "where do they grow the pork round here?"

"Maaaan, I dunno! I just eat it, y'know, I do my part!" Bobo takes a sip from a black bottle next to him. "Yo cracka, don't forget the yogurt, that shit's good for you."

You make an odd, cracking sound with your mouth then head down the aisle, Preah following you up close. Seriously, fuck this suit.

As you go through the door, tiny sound here and there catch steer you attention, so you draw your neck back and gaze towards the sky.

It's drizzling.

You fucking hate it, no doubts, but the design of the visor is so clever that nothing ever clouds it, not even gas or steam.

"It's raining!" It's Preah, stating the obvious.

The way you see it, there's two paths ahead of you until Preah goes back to her post or you are sent flying towards the endless sky; you either bullshit Preah into making things easier, you distract her long enough until the end, or do your best to knock some sense into her head by teaching her the ways.

So; what will it be?

>?
>>
>>297269
>Just distract her, she doesn't much so anything will do.
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>>297283
How?
>>
>>297295
By asking what's her favorite things (color, animal, person) and have explain why in very specific detail.
>>
>>297269
Daddy-time!
As in a little growing up and a lot of fun with your kid.
>>
>>297336
Remember you don't still know when will she leave. It could be a very, veeeery long talk about crayons.

>>297340
I'd like an example, this seems fun. =w=
>>
>>297373
We could always pretend to listen, but the daddy-time sounds fun.
>>
>>297373
I mean like the stereotypical mom role is being responsible and planning and taking care of important things.
While daddy plays with the kid like playin ball or shooting guns or fishes. And occationally has important talks w/ the kid.
>>
>>297421

You didn't raise your own daughter, but at least you have Preah. And everyday, at least once or twice, you wonder how it would have been; fun, frustrating, challenging, hard...
It was the feeling that you missed on something very great that ate you inside-out for the last ten years.
And she's your chance. Sad as fuck, yes, but so far down the road there's just no point in trying to deny it, to pretend you aren't a sad-fuck.
Because you are sad-fuck.
Why else would you be here?

"Hey." you say to her. "Hey!" you repeat louder, since the helmet muffles your voice a bit.

She looks at you.

"Wanna learn how to shoot?"

Oh for fucks sake, what did you just say? One tiny detail you may have forgotten, bluntly reminded, is that you never got the chance to get good at this.

"OK!"

...and yet she smiles at you. Even if you don't have a fucking clue where to get guns, where to shoot them, how not to scare anybody, or if Cross Boss is going to blackmail you over this.

And yet, there you are. Some empty cans rest on the almost horizontal branch of a big tree too close to the ground, behind it the endless ocean, and Preah aims at them with gun that she holds with both hands; shaking.

"It makes a strong sound, remember! Legs apart, like a triangle."

"Hmh."

"Extend your arms."

"Hmh."

"More."

"Hmh!"

Her grip is shaking; you are smirking, amost wickedly, inside the helmet.

"Now, focus... and, when you feel like it, pull the trigger. Take your time."

You study her intently, your smile growing bigger and bigger by the second as she trembles.

PUM!

She took both hands to her chest on the recoil as she fell on her butt. You walk towards her; she rises two watery eyes towards you. Oh crap, this wasn't a good idea.

"Hey, are you okay?"

She nods quickly from the ground. "Yeah!"

"Did that scare you?"

"What" her visage changes. "Of course not! What do you mean!"

"I dunno, you seem pretty scared to me."

"Of course not! I fight They's, why would I be scared!"

"Well it was a good shot anyway" the can is nowhere to be seen, after all. "Think you can land that one?"

She pouts HARD at you, and she doesn't seem to realize; thankfully, your green visor records everything you see into it's database, so that face will be preserved for future generations.
Wheter or not your helmet is linked to the main server, that is something you currently don't give half a shit about.

"I-I think we might be scaring people!"

You look around, and make a show out of it.

"There's nobody around."

"It doesn't matter, they can hear it!"

"This is a deserted island and we are, like, ten minutes from there." You silently thank Carlos for lending you the hovercraft.

"B-but what if I hit someone?!"

"Who?"

"What if there's someone in the water?"

"Well, I'm dead sure he's inside something big and sturdy."

"But what if I hit one of the windows and..."
>>
"Preah." you say calmly, truly calmly; it feels good.

She just looks at you, and blinks.

"If you ever don't want to do something... just say so."

She's still blinking, like a broken windshield.

"Trying to look tough is a full time job, and why would you want to look tough to me?." You shrug, cheerfully. "Even if you are an Arma. Alright?"

"...OK." She nods at you.

"So, do you want to shoot that thing?"

She shakes her head.

"Good!" you are smiling so hard, the corners of your mouth hurt. It seems you turned a shitstorm into a life lesson.

Well, then so be it. As long as she's here, as long as you are here, you will do your very best to knock some sense into her. Plenty of reasons, but that doesn't matter: it's fun.

>What do you want to teach her now?
>>
>>297561
>How to whistle by using two fingers.
>>
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>>297577

You are already here, so might as well make the most out of this. After all, the cost for this was to be the errand boy during two weeks for those fuckers, because the speeder is actually military-issued and someone could get fucked hard over this. So you take off your helmet; and get the thumb and index finger of the other hand on your mouth, like nibbling on a donut, then you take a breath, and whistle.
Preah looks at you; her eyebrows rising as she tilts her head over and over, as you keep on whistling.

"You know how to do this?"

"Hmh!"

"Then show me your power."

She gets her fingers on her mouth like you just did, she takes a breath (at which point you knew she was faking since it's not necessary), and blows. She keeps taking air and blowing, over and over, until you walk up to her with an exaggerated smile on your face. With her fingers still on her mouth, she looks at you, then above, then to the side for a while... then at you again.

"Ig doughnt know hows thow dwo dwis" she admits.

You take your time to show her the whole process; time flies with the both of you talking nonsense and Preah getting slightly frustrated, and it's not your fault you like the face she puts when that happens.

Finally, she gives up; as you still whistle close to her face, until she puts on a mean face and pushes pushes you too gently.

>What now?
>>
>>297666
>Pat her head as you accidentally call her by our daughter's name
>>
>>297666
Throwing stones!
>>
>>297695
>>297701

You laugh as you pat her purple hair over and over, and as you do she dedicates a mean stare straight to your eyes; but she doesn't push you back. And you felt it, almost slipping from your mouth; a name. Almost.

The stone bounces one, two, three times then sinks into the water. You hand one to Preah, who sits by your side, and mimics you; the stone sinks with a very loud splash, the feedback some water landed on your beard.

"It's a more a thing of angle than strenght" you explain. "Try to make the rock scratch the water."

"Scratch?"

"Scratch."

You pass your hand through her hair, she closes her eyes dimly.

"OK!" she smiles brightly.

Then she shoots. Onetwothreefourfive six seven eight, nine, ten, eleven... you stare in awe, your mouth almost wide open.

"Did you do that with all your strenght?"

She shakes her head. You pause, briefly; but it has to be said.

"Do it. Do it with all your might."

"All of it?" she raises an eyebrow as she tilts her head to the side.

You nod. "All of it."

She grabs a rock by her side; then stands. You wonder how much of a bad idea this was, and then when she shoots, it's like the stone was tearing existance apart as reality let out a dim, shrill cry of agony; that's what you were thinking about as you stared into the gigantic hole blew open into the sea, right before the feedback launched water so high in the sky that it could have toppled an helicopter.

Yep.

Armas are no joke.

"Did I do well?" she suddenly turns to you.

You just manage to nod at her; Armas must have a very hard time learning to measure their strengh. Well, at least they have it easier than those around not made of frozen anima.

For one slow second, you think that the feedback from the rock Preah nuked the sea with is still falling; but it's raining, and raining heavy.

"Well, we have to go back." You say, as you put on your helmet. "Did you had fun?"

She turns to you, and for another slow second you shudder.

"Can we come again?"

"I'll think about it," you try your very best to hide the relief, and you think you might have failed, "unless it sinks."

"It's not raining that hard."

"I know, it's just a bad joke. Let's go."
Back at HQ, everybody is still at the living room; most of them sleeping, some snoring HARD, and some have red in their eyes. One of such, by the name of Bobo, turns to look at you as the piercing sound of rain fills the silence. You greet him with a slight blink, and both you and Preah head to your room.

She sits by your side in the bed, as you take off your helmet.

>It's raining hard out there. You've got a PC here, insulting people from Brasil is the best thing that ever happened to your lazy hours. So what now?
>>
>>297745

I tried to add some space between "I know, it's jsut a bad joke. Let's go." and "Back at HQ...", but it seems it doesn't work. What am I missing?
>>
>>297749
I think it works fine
>>297745
>Go to sleep early
>>
>>298103

"Pedro?"

You turn your bald head towards her purple, wet long hair, trickling into the sheets of your bed like a baby waterfall. You like her eyes; people have learned how to use them, but she didn't. And all that metal and patterns on her, those aren't her clothes. That's her. That's her skin. Armas don't use EKE fields; they don't need them. Their whole composition sturdy enough that a panzer shot would bounce (god, fuck that day), but has to be sustained permanently by one and a half gallons of anima... And that ship over there, that big thing with the big wings? It runs on one and barely over three quarters.

"Pedro?" she repeats herself, softly.

You look at her, somewhat sad; "Preah, sweetie; you are wetting the god damn bed."

"Sorry!" she stands.

Both of you turn as somone laughs right outside the near door, then you hear fast, dim steps fading. Fucking Carlos. You look at Preah, slightly bouncing your forehead at her; rain still going strong.

"Thank you." she nods at you, smiling as usual.

"You know, I expected shitstorms from south and north. You did well today, good job."

"Thanks!" She nods yet again. You both do a lot of nodding; it must be something from where she comes from. Suddenly, something feels off...

"Hey," she stares at you, "don't Armas have that thing on their foreheads?"

"Hmh."

"So... where's yours?" you ask.

"I lost it."

"Oh." You scratch your head, to win some time to think what to say. "Sorry about that." Well shit. "What did it say?"

"I don't know!" She downcasts her eyes, water dripping from her too long and purple hair. "I didn't know how to read then, and everybody just kept telling me different nonsenses! Someone told me it said "yawn", and she always yawned at me everytime she saw me!" she stops, her fists balled and her shoulders rising.

It's like a licence plate that all Armas wear in their foreheads, usually more or less hidden by their hair. It has a single word; the only word their former selves still wanted to remember.
So, of course, it means a lot to them.

Yet, you are flabbergasted.

"But just how in the fuck did you lost it? That thing just couldn't have come off!"

"It did!"

"How?"

"I took it off."

"Why?"

Yyyep. Her eyes are shiny and wet. "I-I... just wanted to see what it said."

She pauses; you wait for her to finish.

"I don't know where I left it."


Armas don't sleep. At all; and they don't get tired, either. They lack our need of resource management, so it's very natural she doesn't understand why people make so many guns, and crafts, and things that make it easier to kill each other. From the bed, your body under the blankets, you turn your bald head towards the small bluntly noises. It's Preah, sitting in a corner with her PSP, her eyes very fixed on the tiny screen, and you find hella cute how her face sometimes frowns, and how she bites her lip as she gets her face closer to the screen. She must be very focused.

Oh well... it's still raining.
>>
You yawn.

Hard.

And as you open your eyes, just as expected, her face is hovering right over your. You don't even flinch or worry.

Yes, it is, indeed, another day of your life.

-What should you teach her today?
>Basic stuff like NOT STEALING.
>Basic social stuff. Interaction, subtlety...
>Teach her how people work and why. It might be hard.
>Write in!
>>
>>298828
>Basic stuff like NOT STEALING.
Baby steps, one at a time
>>
>>298848

You put a hand on her head, she shakes her head against it with closed eyes; until you gently, but firmly, push her away. You rise the upper half of your body from the bed, yawn, and turn to with a frown; then rise from the bed altogueter, as you ignore her.

Still yawning dimly behind the helmet (and hearing the faint echo coming from behind you, almost faked), both you and Preah head down to the living room.
You find Carlos, Bobo, and Marcos, all three looking at you with a very serious face, naked except for their boxers, with their backs resting on the couch, and their legs spread wide open towards the ceiling, forming X's with each intertwining leg.
You cheeks puff hard; you reach behind with a hand, Preah's chest brakes into it.

"YOU JUDGIN NIGGA?" Bobo lashes out.

You shake your head, all cheeks red, then turn around and drag Preah by hand towards the exit. The door is swallowed to the side; behind it, a cross all over a white helmet, no visor or anything else to be seen. Mother of fuck.

"Greetings."

...it's the Cross Boss. This time, you don't even bother with your formal salute; you just stare at the helmet with a bored frown.

"Cut the shit, Pedro." The tone of its voice is rash, but light. "I land you a cutie like this and you give me that look?"

"Fuck you." You calmly inform the Cross Boss, as you gently gesture with your hands.

...It's laugh echoes from behind the helmet; Preah is not hiding behind you, but she's not far from it as the Cross Boss composes itself and clears its throat.

"Anyway, she's leaving tomorrow, or in like 16 hours give or take. I got her an Iva-Noves, I had to gamble a blowjob that she wasn't going to sink it. So, congratulations! You are back on patrol duty. Ta, tara, taraaa!" It turns around, and pauses; then goes full circle. "Nigger." Then the Cross Boss turns around, and walks towards the peaceful village.

You scratch your head on reflex, then remember about the helmet; but your hand landed on something soft and silky. It seems Preah was resting her head on yours. You turn your head around.

"Let's go, I've got to buy stuff for the waste of human skin."

"Ok."
>>
"This, is a supermarket!"

You state with your muffled, metallic voice.
You introduce the small building, and it's offers on the big window by taking a side step, leaning forward, and gesturing at it, like it was a tiger or a sad polar bear behind bars.

"I already know that Pedro, we have those too from where I come from!" She "^_^"'s at you, enthusiactically.

"And what do people do in supermarkets?"

She smiles brightly and rises a finger; then her smile fades, and she looks to the side.

"Pay."

"Correct! And why do they pay?"

"So they don't get yelled at?" she inquires.

"Well, yeah, but it's a bit more complex."

She raises an eyebrow. "How so? I just don't want to be yelled at."

"Well, let me put it like this; even if you didn't got yelled at, supermarkets live on cash. Let's say you could just come in, take what you want, and leave without nobody yelling."

"That sounds kinda nice."

"Eventually," you state, "the supermarket would die."

She blinks. "Why?"

"See all those things I buy to eat? The ones that get stolen by niggers, from the fridge?"

She ponders, then "hmh's" at you.

"The supermarket gets it all from someone else, and it has to pay for everything with the cash you give to them. It wins by selling things higher than it costed it to buy them.

"Then why don't we buy from the "someone else" instead?"

"Because, those guys are pretty far! So the supermarket spares you walking there for the milk, there for the eggs, and over there for the bananas by gathering almost everything in the same place. So you can just come here instead of wasting all day walking for your breakfast."

"I see, I see!"

"So, if you don't pay the guys, you will have to walk a lot, eventually."

"I like walking."

"Cuz you aren't a sad old-fuck, sweetie. Come."

>Basic stuff, then!
>>
>>299185
>Basic stuff, then!
>>
>>299263
Should I just write my hearts out or do you want to teach something specific? =w=
>>
>>299269
Heart your heart, you beautiful horn!
>>
>>299283

You take off the tiny notebook in the right pocket of your jacket, and scribble on it with your tiny pen. Then you hand it over to Preah. She reads it, over and over, then gives you a meaningful look without leveling her head. Oh, right. You take the notebook from her hands, and draw bananas, milk, eggs, jam, and a katana along it's sheat next to their names. You hand it over to her, then cross your arms.

"You have a mission, Preah. Gather all the items of that list, then report to me."

"So, am I going alone?" She blurts, excited.

You shake your head. You'd smirk, were it not for the helmet, towards her frowning eyebrows.

"I'll be following you close by, so feel free to fuck up slightly. Now go."

"But, I don't know where's any of this."

"Then aaaassk, sweetie!"

She ponders...

"OK!"
>>
Back shortly!
>>
"HI!"

The lady lets out a little scream, then faces Preah. You shake your head and helmet, then walk towards them.

"Repet after me." You clear your throat towards the confused woman. "Excuse me."

"Excuse me!"

She looks at you, and then at Preah.

"Do you know where I could find these things?" you extend your arm.

"Do you know where I could find these things?" Preah extends the same arm as you; the one without the note. You wait for her to correct herself, and it seems the woman noticed, as well. She doesn't. You "hmm..."; then take one arm to the sky, Preah takes one arm to the sky, then you spin, Preah spins, then a one, and a two, and a one, and a two; the woman stares, mouth wide open, at the fast, improvized coreography. Then with one final spin and some quick calculation, you slide on your knees extending both arms, and Preah does the same towards the lady; people everywhere have stopped to stare. The woman, then, finnally, takes the note.

"I-I think you can find this down the aisle!" she points at the milk, as she shows it to Preah, "the eggs should be there, too, a-and this, over there."

"Thank you" you say.

"Thank you!" Preah says.

You think she muttered "you're welcome", but you can be sure. You'll never be. You get Preah to repeat the process (without the dancing) a few times over until she learns not to scare people as she greets them; and head out with your white bags with food.

>Any ideas?
>>
>>299731
We should make sure she paid the correct amount.
>>
>>299758

The line is long. DEAD long. Oh fuck, this is what drives a man crazy; to wait.

"Remember! You put the things on the counter, then let the girl move them to the other side."

"OK!"

"Just greet her as usual. A small "Hi!" should do it. Try not to shatter her eardrums."

"OK!"

"Then she will say a number, it's how much you have to pay. You hand her this," You give Preah a one hundred dollar bill, "and wait for the change."

"Change?"

"It's the rest of the money. What we got is not worth the whole bill, so she'll give you bills of less value, and maybe coins."

"So we give her one bill and get more bills?"

"Yeah."

She tilts her head at this.
Ten minutes in, you are yawning. Thankfully, technology has, so far, advanced at least enough for Preah to hold a tiny bit of it's blessings between her black hands, pressing the small buttons without looking at, or doing, anything else.
After some daydreaming, you both reach the checkout. Preah's still in the tiny world in her hands, and you make sure to hide behind. The cashier waits for the next bundle of things to get across her tiny monitor; it never comes.

"Hey!" says the cashier.

You can still hear the PSP behind Preah's long purple hair. Someone reaches from behind you, and gently pats the Arma in the shoulder; she looks up, blinks... and shakes.

"SORRY SORRY!" she almost slams the white bags in the corner, making the cashier flinch. "Um, HI! Good day!"

"Hi," the cashier answers, "the fuck is wrong with you?"

Preah doesn't answer. She just looks at the items, and how the cashier gets them near a tiny screen until a startling "bip" sounds, one after the other.

"That would be $78.80."

"T-thank you!" Preah rushes to nod.

The cashier just stares at her, with her arm extended ending in an open palm. You giggle so hard, and as you think "come on, I have to endure her like ten hours more" you feel a slight pang of guilt. She's doing great, so far.

"Oh!" Preah puts the bill in her hand, the girl at the checkout fumbles up a bit, and then puts the change in the Armas now open palm.

"Thank you for your patronage." the cashier blurts with a bored face. Preah smiles at her.

And as you leave the supermarket, a cold, wet breeze slams against your chest; there are still pools of water everywhere, and the sky is still gray.

"Is it going to rain again?" says Preah, carrying your bags.

"I hope fucking not. Also, good job." you struggle to pat her head, but it feels good, and she smiles. "See? Nobody yells at you if you do things right."

Her giggle seems sad.

>Teach her why people yell sometimes.
>Teach her some usual protocol.
>Write in!
>>
>>299892
>Teach her why people yell sometimes.
>>
>>299892
>Teach her why people yell sometimes.
>>
>>300159

"Hey, let's go."

She follows, and as you go across the street her purple hair pops by the corner of your visor.

"Where are we going?" she asks.

"Dunno!" you shrug. "Wanna head back to HQ and play that thing in a corner?"

"That doesn't sound like a lot of fun." she says, somewhat confused.

"Then shut up and follow me."

And she does. You walk around the city, it's streets, it's places, it's views, and modest monuments; you both end up sitting by a table outside a resturant, Preah watching people come and go as you frown at the menu, and do your best not to curse under your breath.

"...fucking jews."

Yet, you fail. She doesn't notice; drizzle hasn't started yet, so she's resting her elbows on the table as she plays her rectangular thing of fun.

"Hey, Preah." your voice is muffled by the helmet.

She doesn't answer. It seems she can get very into that thing. You just stare at her, until her focused eyes lighten up, and she lets up a tiny scream. There is when she raises her eyes to you.

"Hey, you listening, kid?"

"Yep!"

"You don't need to eat. I know that. But you can, right?"

"Yep." She "hmms", then. "I can do a lot of things that I don't need to. Like breathing!" She takes a mouthful of air, you watch her chest grow slightly under all that metal. "And smelling. And eating, too."

"What happens with the food you eat?"

"I don't know. Do you know?"

"All I've been told about Armas is to stay the fuck away from them. I guess I'm just not good at that."

"Do you know another Arma?"

"Eh, most of them just pass me by, and I'm glad for that. But I used to play cards with a first generation Arma, I gambled a lot cause I didn't know what to do with the cash, and when I won I just gambled it all again-"

"So what was the Arma like?"

"It was a himehorn Arma."

"Those are rare!"

"Yeah, and she had a short fuse. Maybe I expected her to beat the shit out of me at some point, but she never did; she would just stand there, and scream for me to go home." The waitress arrives. You point a few things by the menu, and she nods and leaves. "And I had no home, so it was hard. First gen Armas are very different, remember to always be polite to them."

"OK!"

"Really, they are quite the case." You look into the empty glass of water, then leave it on the table. "Thing is, they got fucked over very badly, and they didn't like it one bit. Do you know that story?"

Preah shakes her head at you. Really, how bored was she? This is starting to make sense.

"The sisters used to own all the Armas. They took people from everywhere, and turned them, giving little shit about wheter they wanted to or-"

"Sisters?" She blinks at you.

"Templars. White hair, bad mood, smoke a lot?"

"Ooooh, the sisters!"

"Yeah, those fucktards."
>>
"Thing is, they weren't, and aren't the kindest of beings you can find above the water. In fact, it would be wise to lean on prejudice, and consider them flamboyant fuck-tarded shit-swallowing nazi bitches on steroids. It's just fair."

"Fair?"

"Fair as in, fair, just, justice, balance. I'm not talking about that fucking monster."

"Oh. She's creepy."

"Fucking hell, yes." You'd slam a beer mug to your mouth breaking a few teeth along the way; you saw the thing in action. Fuck templars, fuck himehorns and their fucking hair-style, fuck this place. "Anyway, they weren't "fair" with the Armas. Not by a long fucking shot. In fact, they made some Armas weak on purpose, looking exactly like the rest, just to blow em up in-front of them to show what happens if you don't follow orders, just to save some coin."

"I-I've heard of that."

"I would be impressed if nobody ever told you anything about that. Well, they used the Armas to fuck everybody up AND deal with the "They" along the way, still treating them like shit because the Armas made them feel insecure. And as it usually happens in this sort of story, someone decided she didn't like getting fucked over by lunatics."

The waitress arrives. From her tray, she takes your orange juice and leaves it on the table, then your toasts, your scrambled eggs, and some cookies you don't fail to recognize as both you and Preah rise eyebrows almost in unison.

"We call this girl Lost," you resume, then clear your throat as you remove your helmet, and leave it by your side on the floor, praying to remember not to trip on it, "becauses that's what her forehead thing said. And you would not fucking believe what she did." You notice yourself talking a bit too loud, so you lower your voice.

"I wouldn't?"

"Well, yeah, you'd believe me if I told, wouldn't you? But you'll doubt, at least a little. See," you grab a toast, and take a bit. Preah waits until you swallow to tilt her head at you. "she started murdering Armas everywhere."

Both her eyes widen, but you don't let her interrupt.

"Everywhere!" You gesture with both hands. "And she was damn good at it, too. One day, all Armas started leaving. Nobody knew where, nobody knew why; and by fuck, nobody could stop them. Most of them gathered in a far island, some tried to follow them just to watch but they didn't let them. Lost was there; she was just like you, a human Arma made from a female, but her hair was black, and even fucking longer than yours."

"How do you know that?"

"We found her corpse. You see... they killed themselves. All of them. All of those Armas." You need to at least pretend this shit is beer, right now. "We "lost", like... almost all of them."
>>
You can tell Preah it, at least, genuinely fucking scared right now. But this is worth it.

"From there on, we got the second generation of Armas. Like you! Raised in a pretty island, all on your own, cared by a first gen that actually gives a shit, and doesn't want to turn off your thoughts. And let me guess; you are going back, right?"

Preah seems shocked, but she nods; then smiles. "I'm going back in a few months!"

"That's because we need Armas like, right fucking now. You aren't ready for this shit yet, but you are certainly better than nothing. Well, as I was saying, templars don't fuck around with Armas ever since Lost made her point clear, and now people are even rewarded for turning, given free threatments, all the good shit. Do you know why that uber fuck-tarded money-grubbing asshole was yelling at you at the supermarket?"

"Because I stole food... right?"

You shake your head, and notice some of the orange juice is dripping down your beard. You grab a napkin.

"Why did templars threat Armas like shit under a horse hoof?"

Preah ponders about this...

>Wait for her to answer.
>Tell her.
>>
>>300370

I'm changing the choices!

>Let her figure it out on her own, even if it takes a while.
>Tell her.
>>
>>300376
>Let her figure it out on her own, even if it takes a while.
>>
>>300397

"I don't know. Why?"

"Well..." you say smiling, as give the toast a brutal coup de grace. Preah blinks at you, then tilts her head as you chew. She loves doing that, maybe she saw someone in an anime doing it or something. You swallow. "That's homework for you."

Her eyes widen slightly. "Homework?"

"It means you have to figure it out on your own."

"But, but I don't know!"

"Then try to know, sweetie!"

"How?"

"Think!"

"I'm not very good at thinking." She looks to the side.

You dim your eyes at her, smiling. "Then get good at it. It's the only thing everybody should learn to do right. Besides aiming in a bucket." She looks at you, quizzically. "Nevermind that, let's go. There's a price if you figure it out, and I'll tell you anyway before you go back to get bored."

"I don't want to get bored."

You blink out of reflex. Eyes downcast, shoulders falling, no smile... Holy fuck, so she can be sad. And she's just, not moving; just staying there, looking at the table. Just how much was she getting bored, anyway? Your eyes widen slightly; or is there something else?

>What do, what do?!
>>
>>300428
>Tickle her tickling metal sounds fun
>>
>>300449

Watching her sad draws a question from the dark dephts of your sturdy mind; are Armas ticklish? Their bodies are completely emptied in the process... except for their nervous system, if you recall correctly. So, do they feel under the metal? Or maybe they also feel through it?
Well, she didn't even notice you standing behind her... and you don't want to await her answer to find out.

>Where to tickle?
>>
>>300487
>Her sides
>>
>>300523

You position your hands open over the black "skin" at her sides, wondering how it feels like; and watching in glee as she rises her head, says a word, and notices you are not sitting in front of her.
And in the very moment her eyes freezes as she realizes the truth, from behind the chair... you tickle.

"HAHAHAHAHA!!"

The table explodes in ten million pieces as her feet goes across it; you both stare at it, frozen, somebody screamed. Her head under yours, both your eyes slowly, but surely, meet. Well, head-patting it is. Yup.

"Sorry!" says Preah, towards the small crowd. "Sorry, it was an accident! Pedro?" She looks at you, very concerned.

"It's ok, nobody died, don't panic!" You smile, as you consider the many ways the Cross Boss might fuck you over after this. "It's just an accident, she's an Arma!"

Somebody rushes from inside the restaurant, it's a woman on her fourties, kinda short.

"What happened here, are you both ok?" she asks, hard to read behind her big, squary glasses.

"We had an accident over here. This is our fault." you admit. "How much will it be?"

She looks at the mess of wood and glass and winces. "But what happened here?"

"I-I kicked the table! Sorry!"

She frowns, then looks at you. You sigh.

"I was tickling her."

Her eyes return to the absolute mess on the floor, then at you.
.
"She's an Arma."

"OH." she seems to lighten up. "Oh, I see. Mirtha!" she turns around, and shouts to the inside, "get the girls over here, it's a fucking disaster over here!"

"I'll pay for it-"

She smiles at you, then shakes her head. Then, she looks at Preah. "Sweetheart, how old are you?"

"Six?" It's like a question. Preah's voice quivers.

"Don't worry! Go inside, I wanna have a talk with you. As for you..." she turns to you, who just noticed his helmet buried in the small remains of a hurricane; the woman with the glasses takes the broom from one of the waitresses, surprising her, and hands it over to you. Without saying a word. Just looking at you in the eyes, half smiling.

>"...All right."
>"...Nope."
>>
>>300601
>"...All right."
>>
What could be a better way to teach than doing, right? So yeah, you take the broom, and you don't even frown or complain, you just carefully swipe left and right, Preah looking at you until the woman takes her by hand, and leads the Arma inside the restaurant.

Some times, some swipes, and some scars in your hand later (you had to wipe out with alcohol; it burned), one of the waitresses drops the big black bag into the trashcan and gestures you to go into the restaurant; she can't be older than twenty. You then clean your helmet to the best of your ability and let it swallow your bald head and beard, just in case. The last time Cross Boss had enough fuel on you, she somehow managed to convince you to fuck a short latino guy. Yup. And now he's bothering everyone for your phone number.

There's at least one thing you can feel grateful about; that Preah is so easy to notice among a crowd. She feels at ease, talking with the glasses lady; you glance towards something golden, and find Snacks chopping onions behind a window hole in a wall, behind the desk where a bored looking guy is staring into the beyond, perhaps beholding the wonders of cosmos or the things he could have done before ending up here dealing with crazy old ladies.
Snacks doesn't notice you, but it seems Preah did, and she's cheerfully calling you over. Just why the hell does she see in you? Regardless, you sit by their side.

"That was quick." It's the glasses lady, studying you intently.

"Five quarters of the shit they had me do at the camp was clean, clean, and clean." You feel your now metallic voice somewhat fits with the topic. "You end up praying someone blows your ass with a bolt action or a pullup, I swear that at some point you just stop being picky."

"What kind of language is that?" Oh. She seems serious.

"I'm on the military, maam, we either have our fun or we kill ourselves before they do."

"And you just can't save it for a tad bit later... can't you?"

You shrug. "Perhaps?" You look at Preah, she returns a cute smile at you. "What are both of you ladies talking about?"

"You got a lot of good references going on about you." She tilts her head at Preah. "To be honest, I wanted to make sure no-one was filling her head with nonsense."

"Oh don't worry, I just taught her how to shoot and say "fuck"."

"I am aware." She frowns her lips to the sides. "Don't worry about the table. Armas are here to help. The very least we can do is show them some patience."

"Thank you, that's some good attitude over there. I'm glad you give a shit."

"Me too." She sighs. "Not trying to be your boss or anyhing, but I think we can agree she won't need the big words. At least for now. Let's leave those for later, there's a time and place for everything."

"No shit, maam!" You turn to Preah, avoiding the death stare. "Preah, this here is a good lady. Remember; if you ever feel alone, always look for people that can make sense. Even if they have you clean the whole damn street."

"OK!"
>>
"Now, I haven't paid my food yet, but to be honest I don't really remember what was scrambled across the floor."

"It's on the house." Her death stare turns upside-down as she turns to Preah. "Come here anytime, okay?"

"OK!"

"Pedro? Preah?"

You turn around, and the sun comes out again; it's the horned messy golden cloud, swallowing the head of Snacks.

"Hi Snacks!" the Arma blurts out.

"Heya." you say.

"I'm just about to end my shift for today. Are you busy?"

>"Yeah."
>"We's free, white boy!"
>>
>>300773
>"Yeah."
>>
>>301110

Snacks is blind; her eyes are always closed. So it's fairly natural she's standing a bit too close.

"Yeah, sorry." You shrug. "I wanted to show Preah here a few things, before she leaves."

Snacks opens her mouth, slightly, then backs off. "Oh. So you are leaving, Preah?"

"Hmh..."

"Where are you going?"

"Home." She says. You make a point about teaching her not to look so sad, or to at least try.

"Today." You say it too dryly; it surprises you, but not that much, not anymore.

Snacks smiles; she can't see her face, after all. "Going home, nohorn?"

"Don't bring up the horned fucktards, please, I had enough."

"They are actually very nice, once you get to know them." She giggles. It's a peaceful sound. "Feel free to come by! I will wait for Trash here, we usually take trips in the helicopter before going home."

"Why?" Preah inquires, tilting her head.

"I like how the wind feels!" she says.

Preah blinks. "Oooooh."

You just notice the glass lady has been long gone for a while. Oh well; you got an Arma to train, and barely any time left to do it. Fucktards shouldn't leave them stranded like that on patrol duty.

>More basic stuff.
>Stuff about people.
>Explain something specific. (write in)
>>
>>301649
>Stuff about people.
>>
>>301704
Both you and Preah wave at Snacks from the door; then feel slightly stupid after you leave.

"Alright," your voice comes deep from the helmet, "what now, princess?"

"What's a princess?"

"Useless bitches." She raises an eyebrow at you; it seems she know what a bitch is. "Um, some are nice I guess. Hey, before it rains, we-"

"Pedro?" she inquires, suddenly.

"Yeah?"

"What would you do if a "They" comes?"

"Oh, that. We got an Arma here. Umm... two Armas, yeah."

"Really? There's another Arma here?"

"Yeah, the Cross Boss."

"Who's that?" she says as you start walking, then follows you.

"My squad leader. She was assigned temporarily to the Bartus, one of the lesser hybrid-ships of the Befomith; the guys up high wanted her to ambush some negros from the Fifth they expect to crash in to take over the ship. Some spy told them, I think. They never came in the end." You "hmm..". "Thing is, she liked messing with us so much, that she fucked up on purpouse. And guess fucking what, she requested to stay with us." Once upon a time, a tiny kid said "MOM, WHEN I BIG, I WANT TO BE THE BASEBALL"; a lot of shit happened since then. "And now I'm her bitch."

"I don't understand, why did she like to mess with you so much?"

"Fuck if I know." You shudder. "Remember, Preah, you never know what people wants. And that's the single most important part about anybody in general; not what they want, but why do they want it. Once you know that, or at least have some idea, you can start to predict them."

She tilts her head at you, then smiles, as she keeps walking; it seems she understood.

"So you are pretty screwed, right?"

"YEAH."

>Basic stuff!
>Stuff about people!
>Something else! (write in)
>>
>>301854
So many typos... ;w;
>>
>>301906
>Stuff about people!
More social skills.
>>
>>301959

Drizzle. Oh for fucks sake, this is her last day. Can't the heaven have mercy?

"Preah, let's get over there."

"OK!"

Drizzle is hitting light, the sound much like a peaceful drum in your head, until you both find cover under the leaves of a big tree in a small plaza. It has a bench under it. You sit, and she mimics you; around, people are already walking around with umbrellas, some of them under them, as tiny spashes fade across the floor.

And you let go. Suddenly, without a warning; you just stop worrying about things. You do notice what's going, so you try not to think, you try not to spoil the moment... until you realize Preah's head is resting on your shoulder, some of her purple hair falling across your jacket.
You just let time flow.
She's so silent; did she fell asleep? Nah, Armas don't do that, they just blow things apart using GOG gas. You let your head slowly fall on hers, this is game two can play after all.
The piercing sound of water clashing on concrete manages to wake you up. You open your eyes, and before any sudden movement you make a slow recap of what's going on.
Then, you find that Preah's nowhere to be seen.

OH, COME ON!

>Look for her (write in)
>Wait.
>>
>>302238
>Look for her (write in)
Call for her as you wander about everywhere.
>>
>>302540

"Preaaah! Preaaah!"

People turn to you, as you shout amidst the streets, only your hoodie saving your skull from the powerful rain; it leaves a slight wake of vapor, as it clashes on the floor.

"HEY! Did you see an Ar- a girl, a girl, purple hair, purple eyes, looks fucking weird."

The guy shakes his head at you, and moves on as he covers a women with a black umbrella. You keep asking people and shouting for a while, then for another while... then you stop. You let your head rest against the wall of a cheese shop, not that worried since you can count with your fingers the things that could harm her, and yet spare a hand.
Where could have she gone? Well, she wanted to take a tour on her own, before... but then again, maybe the Iva Novus arrived too early? Last time you left her alone, you realized she didn't know what paying meant. Grandmother of fuck, what will it be now? You give panic a last respite, and head to the bench under the tree.

From around the corner, you spot her through the rain. Sitting, alone; holding a hotgod in each hand. She seems so gloomy, looking at the floor tiles like that... but when she hears your steps, her head rises, and her smile brightens.

"Where were you?!" She almost yells, cheerfully.

You sigh in relief, behind the helmet, then you gesture with your hands towards her, in confusion. "How did you get hotdogs on a rainy day?!"

"Come here!"

You walk up to her, then sit to her side. No. You aren't going to ask how she paid for those, either. Without rush, you take off your helmet, and leave it by your side. You just grab a hotdog, then sit back, and stare at the merciless, endless rain, as it tries to sink the world, while you chew on meat and bread. Glancing at your side, you notice she's doing the same. And again you are shrouded in comfortable silence, not worrying about coming out with pointless shit to break it perhaps for the first time in your life. You take another bite, and nod towards nowhere in satisfaction.

Are you really so sad and lonely, that this is the best time of your life?

Eating a hotdog with a stray Arma, under the rain?

It seems the rain won't answer to you. Preah won't answer to you either. Nobody will. Nobody ever did.

Sitting by your side, is someone yet untouched by bullshit or dreams. She won't be like that, not for long; people grow, people change. Armas too.

Fuck, man. Fuck.
In the name of Arch-magus Fuckital the Wise and Great; when did you started to like her? And why?

Maybe that's all it takes to be happy, then. Just not worrying about pointless shit, that you can't do anything about.

"Pedro?"

Your internal, deep monologue is cut short by her soft voice. Now that you know, you can't help feeling a bit flustered as you turn your beard towards her.
>>
"The sauce is dripping." She points at your hotdog.

"Crap." Some fell on your pants. You shrug. "The rain will help with that."

"Kinda sad for a last day." She pouts at the rain; the rain doesn't stop.

"Just wait a bit. It's too strong, so it should be over soon."

"Really?"

"Yeah, it's usually like that. But it does rain a lot lately, so don't take my word for it."

"I don't like rain."

"I do, it's soothing when it's not so fucking brutal."

"Oh, I like it like that, too!"

"Add some tea and some sad memories, and there you go, fucking flawless."

"Why do the memories have to be sad?"

"Because good memories belong in sunny days, not in the rain" you say, as you put a hand in your chest, and raise your chin towards the sky.

She smirks at you, wickedly. "That's silly."

"Well I don't see you having much fun, either."

She puts on a bored, exhagerated face. You laugh.

Well, rain isn't going anywhere any time soon. And to be honest, you'd rather not, either. Some more sun is making its way through the gray clouds, and along the fog it does look somewhat nice.

>Teach Preah about the dangers of expectations.
>Teach Preah about the need to filter words.
>Teach Preah the basics of human interaction, down to the bone. You'l be here for a while.
>>
>>302725
>Teach Preah about the dangers of expectations.
>>
>>303534

"Thing is," you start, "nobody really knows what they want." She turns to look at you, but then turns again towards the rain. It makes talking a bit harder, along the helmet.

"I want to have fun." she states, far too firmly. You smile.

"Yeah, but how?" You let your back hit the bench, then let your elbows rest on it. "That's the thing. There are, like, a lot of ways to have fun, you know?"

She "hmms" at this. "I don't think shooting at this is very fun..."

"Me neither."

"I like to run. And jump. I can jump very high!"

"I know, Armas do that."

"I also like to draw. I'm not very good at it."

"What else?"

"Hmm, talking with you is kinda fun." She smiles as she nods slightly. "Dancing is fun, too!"

"Do you know why doing that is fun?"

She opens her mouth, then stops, and "hmms" yet again.

"I was going to say "because I'm good at it", but last time I tried to draw an Iva-Rashi it ended up looking like a bird with three heads." She winces slightly, looking at the floor. "It wasn't a pretty bird."

"People have fun when they can afford to act without worrying about the consequences. That's why so many people get fucked-up drunk, or go crazy; they don't want to worry, even for a bit." It's a beautiful sight, even if you are kinda stranded in it; the vapor rising from the street, the sky lashing on the ground. "It's a whole damned act of balance try and enjoy yourself without fucking shit up in the process, mostly when you have to worry about not fucking with everyone's hopes and dreams. That's mostly what being an adult is about; you realize all the shit that happens behind the curtains. So you either deny it for the rest of your life, and go fucking nuts, or you learn to deal with it, and take every step with utmost care. Sometimes, speaking with people is worst than walking among landmines. You got to get the clues right, or BOOM, someone's fucking offended."

"What's a landmine?" she inquires.

"It's a thing that military guys like me hide on the floor, and when someone steps on them, they go BOOM. Very BOOM, in fact."

She winces. "B-but, why would anybody do that?"

"Food, sweetie." You sigh. Hard. "Food."
>>
"This is, sweetie," you resume, "everyone has their own hopes and dreams for the future, and everyone wants to believe that those things are going to happen. And when something makes them think that they are not, they don't like that. Not. One. Fucking. Bit." You suddenly feel strongly compelled to just caress her hair. You don't. "Let's see, what If I told you that you can't run anymore."

"I would call you a big liar, and tell you to go home."

"Oh come on, no." You shake your head. "Not that. It's so annoying... Anyway, let me think about it for a second..."

You take another bite at the hotdog; it's almost out of this plane of existence. Then you stare towards the falling rain, marveling slightly that it's still there despite the amount of water, since pools are slowly joining together, and turning into a small lake. Meanwhile, Preah kisses you on the cheek. You blush. Hard. Worst than the first time you got a blowjob. God dammit, this girl has no filters. And there she is, just looking at you with those purple eyes. They widen slightly.

"Why are you so red?" she seems genuinely interested.

"I-I've got an example," you stutter, then almost choke on the rest of the hotdog, then put on your helmet along the hoodie. "What If I told you," your voice comes out metallic, filtered by the radio system, "that you'll never find your forehead-thingy? That you'll never know what it says?"

"That's mean." She admits, closing her eyes slightly.

"Exactly, exactly." You hurry to nod. "That's the thing; you don't really have a reason to think you will find it, but you'd rather think you will. Even if there's nothing pointing at that. Even if it doesn't make sense." You finish, as the green visor finally adjusts to your sight as it lets out a slight, camera-film like sound.

"What makes you think I'm not going to find it?"

"What makes you think you will?" you retort, carefully.

"I-I don't know. I think you are right, I just want to find it." She seems sad now, but this is for a good cause. "I just want to know what the last Preah wanted to tell me. Maybe she hid a lot of cakes somewhere, and I lost the only clue to get there."

"Oh, you like cake?"

"Yeah. A lot, actually!"

"You've been with those little guys too, right."

She nods. "It was last year. My teacher is a himehorn Arma, too, and she wanted to show us her herd." Her eyes brighten. "I like the little ones with horns, I think they are very nice!"

"Yeah, very nice, so what kind of cake do you like?"

"Lemon pie!"

You shake your head. She pouts, slightly.

"You will learn. In time."

"What kind of cake do YOU like?" She frowns slightly at you.

"Cheesecake. With strawberries."

"Well, um, that one's very nice too..."

"It's far better than yours." You make your point by crossing your arms, then raising your chin at her. "FAR better."

"Lemon pie is better, go home nohorn!"

"FAR. BETTER. GET IT RIGHT."

She's holding your stare across the green visor, while you grin in satisfaction.
>>
You feel very aware of the sound of rain crashing against the floor, as you look into her big purple eyes again. Then it's like a reflex; you are caressing her hair, while she looks a bit startled at your hand... until you caress her soft cheek, and she shakes it slowly against your fingers. Then you start coordinating, feeling your mind pretty numb. She then rests her head against your hand, half smiling; and opens one big purple eye at you. You, um, kinda wake up.

"Like I was saying," you restart, yet again, your mind thinking hard on what to do with your hand, "people don't want you to tell them they aren't going to get what they want, even if they don't really want it. So you gotta avoid saying ANYTHING that could make them think that, you gotta plan ahead, and think every body you say very carefully..."

"Hmh." She closes the eye.

"Very carefully, yes." You are shaking, albeit slightly. "And if you start wanting things that don't make any sense, and you get your hopes high on things you might never get, then people will have to do the same with you so you don't feel bad. Well, that..." you use your hand to gently raise her chin, until she's looking at you dead in the eyes; she seems so sleepy. "...or you'll be in for a very rude awakening, once they tell you why you won't get the thing."

"Hmh."

"So be careful."

"Hmh."

"Preah." you warn.

"I know, I'm listening!" she smiles at you, you take your hand off, and let it rest behind your nape, along the other hand.

And, god dammit. It's still raining hard.

>Keep talking. (about what?)
>a) Filtering words.
>b) Basic human interaction.
>c) Why black people are bad.
>Just endure the rain. (where to go?)
>a) Snack's and Trash's.
>b) HQ
>c) Just wander around.

Pick two among all of them.
>>
>>303951
>Filtering words.
>Just wander around.
Let's make this last stroll a memorable one
>>
>>304088

"And that's why it's so important to have... filters!"

She stays there, looking at you standing up.

"Come on, let's take a walk."

"But, it's raining." Ten thousand tiny sounds prove it.

"Wanna leave without knowing what you'll be missing?" Oh. That was... maybe a tiny bit harsh. "Um." She doesn't answer. "It's just a tiny town, you won't be missing on much. We could stay a while longer if-"

"Let's go." She says, as she rises from the bench. You feel more sadness than guilt; is patrol duty so boring for her? Well, it is for you... And that thing you just said?
Guess you want her to stay. You half-smirk under that helmet, as you tilt your head at the thought. Tough luck.
>>
Making a new thread soon! =w=



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