Getting lost in the lies I believed
Characters: Aurora (earth_uninstall) and Lockonpuppy from the Familiar Event.
Date/Time: Nov 14, bedtime
Location: The Hobo Villa, aka Aurora's house
Rating: PG-13 for a naughty word and self indulgence
Summary: With 'Range' back, Aurora uses it as a chance to say the things he never got to say.
------
The hum of the computers had become a comforting noise. Aurora had initially placed his 'inheritance' from Helix in his room for security purposes, removing any furniture other than the beds and dressers to make room. Surprisingly, Yehuda had not protested but been in favor of it, an indication that should have tipped him off to his own reaction. though still a long ways from being completely usable, the first night the system had been adapted to accept power had resulted in the best sleep he'd had for far too long.
The hour was getting late, and Aurora decided to resign for the night, frustrated. The weak parameters of the system meant it would be difficult to adapt the OS he was attempting to write for it; perhaps it would be better if he remained patient and waited until he could find sufficient RAM in the Scavenger's Yard.
"Or maybe a Master/Slave connection would work.."
"Woah, didn't know you were into that, Tieria." He looked up, frowning at the Irish Setter seated nearby, enjoying the flow of air caused by one of the desktop's fans.
"Into computers?" He asked, unsure what his animal companion meant. The dog only laughed, shaking its head before stretching.
"Never mind. It's bad for your eyes to stare at that thing all night; get some rest." Aurora was ready to protest, if the dog hadn't yawned. Perhaps both of them wanted to sleep; 'Range' never seemed to do more than nap as long as Aurora was up. He nodded and saved his work, setting the systems to hibernated so that only the hum and LED lights remained, and prepared for bed.
He brushed his teeth and dressed down to shorts and a t shirt, comfortable enough to sleep in while still being decent should there be an emergency, before shutting off the lights to his bedroom and climbing into his neatly made bed after placing his glasses on the dresser. The dog hopped up onto the end, circling a few times before making itself comfortable; Aurora only moved his feet under the dog's body like he had ever since the animal had appeared.
A few minutes passed, long enough for Aurora to have already fallen asleep. But he was restless for some reason, his head turning to look at the empty bed in the room.
"He's fine. You said so yourself." Range's voice carried over lightly, gentle in the darkness of the room.
"I know. I would sense if Yehuda had disappeared. But even though I am logically aware of this, I still worry. Is that strange?"
"Most emotions aren't really logical. Can't help how you feel." Aurora went silent for a moment, thinking over the words. He hesitated before speaking up, finding the need to confess far too great to ignore.
".. Lockon, if I said I was glad you didn't remember, would you resent me for it?" The response came a second later than Aurora had feared.
"No, but I'd wonder why."
"The way we are now, it's like before, when we were just friends and comrades."
"And something happened to change that?" The answer was so obvious it made the question hypothetical, and Aurora felt so guilty in that moment. The memory he secretly treasured, of being stuck with the real Range under the mistletoe..
"I was- It was my fault." He started, voice raspy from trying to suppress his emotions. He could still remember the way Range had hugged him, warm and safe, and the moment he'd been so unforgivably stupid and gone on his tiptoes to- "Something happened, and I was embarrassed and confused, so I avoided you. And then you disappeared. I wonder if it's because of my actions that you left in the first place."
"I doubt that. Couldn't get rid of a freeloader like me if you tried." The bed shifted as the dog lazily got to its feet, padding over until he was next to Aurora. In turn, the man shifted over, unconsciously giving the dog space to lie back down.
"Lockon, I'm being serious."
"So am I." Aurora frowned, turning on his side to face the dog and gauge the truth in its eyes. But it was hard; he didn't understand humans enough to perform such a feat successfully on a normal basis, and with the added difficulty of 'Range's' eyes being an entirely different species, it only made it harder. The dog was thankfully patient with him, docilely letting itself be observed.
"Do you mean it this time?" It came out a bit more accusatory than he'd wanted.
"The same way I'm sure I meant it every time I've said it before. Things happen here that's out of our hands, and you have to let go of that. Like me and Lucy." The reminder made Aurora's heart hurt and he dropped his gaze, his head tilting into the pillow.
"Is that really acceptable, just letting go? Shouldn't we be fighting against it?"
"Fighting what? If you don't have an enemy to fight, there's no point in making one. It's OK for you to mourn her, you know, and move on."
"What if I don't want to?" Aurora challenged, almost childishly.
"Things don't work that way." The seriousness in the dog's tone surprised him, the sort of maturity that spoke of pain he'd never wish upon Range. For a moment Aurora wondered if he'd imagined it.
"Then I don't like the way things work. Is this all friendship is, getting close to people who will inevitably leave you?" The dog had the gall to laugh at him again, the serious weight of its words gone as that cheerfully familiar voice returned.
"No, it's not. What would Lucy say if she heard you? Focusing on what you lost instead of what you've gained."
"What do you mean?"
"Those memories you have of Lucy and your feelings of friendship for her, you still have them, right?"
"Yes, but-"
"No buts. She might be gone, but she's not gone here-" And the dog nosed at the blanket, right over Aurora's heart. "-as long as you remember her." The man placed a hand over his chest, mimicking the motion, and looked at the dog strangely.
"The heart doesn't store emotions-"
"It's figurative." The dog said gently, tail wagging a bit in amusement. "The heart's used as a way to represent emotion, and as a place that emotions come from. Don't give me that look, Professor, I don't need a science lecture to know it's not technically correct." Aurora looked affronted, but remained silent. It was comforting to know that, even as a dog, 'Range' still knew him this well. "It's just the way people are. The way you are, too."
"I'm not-"
"You are. I'm the one with the nose set to crazy, so I'd know. Just trust me on this one." Aurora settled down, returning to his normal sleeping position. He felt better, for some reason, even if his eyes strung a little from unshed tears and his emotions felt a little raw.
"Thank you, Lockon. I don't think I've said it to you enough." He said sincerely, closing his eyes. "Good night."
"Night." The dog settled, closing its eyes. It waited until Aurora had fallen asleep, his breathing even and calm, before lidding his eyes just the smallest bit. The energetic dog's nature had been shed to reveal the old, jagged being behind it, the one that wore masks even when they eroded away at him. The dog didn't need his memories to know its part, taking his cue from Aurora when it fibbed its lines and using that unwavering trust to smooth out the inconsistencies.
"I'm the worst, you know." It told the sleeping man, quiet enough not to disturb him. "How can you believe half the shit I say when I don't even think it's true?" The dog sighed and closed its eye, the muscles around the blind one twitching. "I'm not satisfied by this world one bit, and here I am, pushing you to accept it.
"Stop relying on me so much, Tieria, because eventually I'll run out of the right things to say."
Date/Time: Nov 14, bedtime
Location: The Hobo Villa, aka Aurora's house
Rating: PG-13 for a naughty word and self indulgence
Summary: With 'Range' back, Aurora uses it as a chance to say the things he never got to say.
------
The hum of the computers had become a comforting noise. Aurora had initially placed his 'inheritance' from Helix in his room for security purposes, removing any furniture other than the beds and dressers to make room. Surprisingly, Yehuda had not protested but been in favor of it, an indication that should have tipped him off to his own reaction. though still a long ways from being completely usable, the first night the system had been adapted to accept power had resulted in the best sleep he'd had for far too long.
The hour was getting late, and Aurora decided to resign for the night, frustrated. The weak parameters of the system meant it would be difficult to adapt the OS he was attempting to write for it; perhaps it would be better if he remained patient and waited until he could find sufficient RAM in the Scavenger's Yard.
"Or maybe a Master/Slave connection would work.."
"Woah, didn't know you were into that, Tieria." He looked up, frowning at the Irish Setter seated nearby, enjoying the flow of air caused by one of the desktop's fans.
"Into computers?" He asked, unsure what his animal companion meant. The dog only laughed, shaking its head before stretching.
"Never mind. It's bad for your eyes to stare at that thing all night; get some rest." Aurora was ready to protest, if the dog hadn't yawned. Perhaps both of them wanted to sleep; 'Range' never seemed to do more than nap as long as Aurora was up. He nodded and saved his work, setting the systems to hibernated so that only the hum and LED lights remained, and prepared for bed.
He brushed his teeth and dressed down to shorts and a t shirt, comfortable enough to sleep in while still being decent should there be an emergency, before shutting off the lights to his bedroom and climbing into his neatly made bed after placing his glasses on the dresser. The dog hopped up onto the end, circling a few times before making itself comfortable; Aurora only moved his feet under the dog's body like he had ever since the animal had appeared.
A few minutes passed, long enough for Aurora to have already fallen asleep. But he was restless for some reason, his head turning to look at the empty bed in the room.
"He's fine. You said so yourself." Range's voice carried over lightly, gentle in the darkness of the room.
"I know. I would sense if Yehuda had disappeared. But even though I am logically aware of this, I still worry. Is that strange?"
"Most emotions aren't really logical. Can't help how you feel." Aurora went silent for a moment, thinking over the words. He hesitated before speaking up, finding the need to confess far too great to ignore.
".. Lockon, if I said I was glad you didn't remember, would you resent me for it?" The response came a second later than Aurora had feared.
"No, but I'd wonder why."
"The way we are now, it's like before, when we were just friends and comrades."
"And something happened to change that?" The answer was so obvious it made the question hypothetical, and Aurora felt so guilty in that moment. The memory he secretly treasured, of being stuck with the real Range under the mistletoe..
"I was- It was my fault." He started, voice raspy from trying to suppress his emotions. He could still remember the way Range had hugged him, warm and safe, and the moment he'd been so unforgivably stupid and gone on his tiptoes to- "Something happened, and I was embarrassed and confused, so I avoided you. And then you disappeared. I wonder if it's because of my actions that you left in the first place."
"I doubt that. Couldn't get rid of a freeloader like me if you tried." The bed shifted as the dog lazily got to its feet, padding over until he was next to Aurora. In turn, the man shifted over, unconsciously giving the dog space to lie back down.
"Lockon, I'm being serious."
"So am I." Aurora frowned, turning on his side to face the dog and gauge the truth in its eyes. But it was hard; he didn't understand humans enough to perform such a feat successfully on a normal basis, and with the added difficulty of 'Range's' eyes being an entirely different species, it only made it harder. The dog was thankfully patient with him, docilely letting itself be observed.
"Do you mean it this time?" It came out a bit more accusatory than he'd wanted.
"The same way I'm sure I meant it every time I've said it before. Things happen here that's out of our hands, and you have to let go of that. Like me and Lucy." The reminder made Aurora's heart hurt and he dropped his gaze, his head tilting into the pillow.
"Is that really acceptable, just letting go? Shouldn't we be fighting against it?"
"Fighting what? If you don't have an enemy to fight, there's no point in making one. It's OK for you to mourn her, you know, and move on."
"What if I don't want to?" Aurora challenged, almost childishly.
"Things don't work that way." The seriousness in the dog's tone surprised him, the sort of maturity that spoke of pain he'd never wish upon Range. For a moment Aurora wondered if he'd imagined it.
"Then I don't like the way things work. Is this all friendship is, getting close to people who will inevitably leave you?" The dog had the gall to laugh at him again, the serious weight of its words gone as that cheerfully familiar voice returned.
"No, it's not. What would Lucy say if she heard you? Focusing on what you lost instead of what you've gained."
"What do you mean?"
"Those memories you have of Lucy and your feelings of friendship for her, you still have them, right?"
"Yes, but-"
"No buts. She might be gone, but she's not gone here-" And the dog nosed at the blanket, right over Aurora's heart. "-as long as you remember her." The man placed a hand over his chest, mimicking the motion, and looked at the dog strangely.
"The heart doesn't store emotions-"
"It's figurative." The dog said gently, tail wagging a bit in amusement. "The heart's used as a way to represent emotion, and as a place that emotions come from. Don't give me that look, Professor, I don't need a science lecture to know it's not technically correct." Aurora looked affronted, but remained silent. It was comforting to know that, even as a dog, 'Range' still knew him this well. "It's just the way people are. The way you are, too."
"I'm not-"
"You are. I'm the one with the nose set to crazy, so I'd know. Just trust me on this one." Aurora settled down, returning to his normal sleeping position. He felt better, for some reason, even if his eyes strung a little from unshed tears and his emotions felt a little raw.
"Thank you, Lockon. I don't think I've said it to you enough." He said sincerely, closing his eyes. "Good night."
"Night." The dog settled, closing its eyes. It waited until Aurora had fallen asleep, his breathing even and calm, before lidding his eyes just the smallest bit. The energetic dog's nature had been shed to reveal the old, jagged being behind it, the one that wore masks even when they eroded away at him. The dog didn't need his memories to know its part, taking his cue from Aurora when it fibbed its lines and using that unwavering trust to smooth out the inconsistencies.
"I'm the worst, you know." It told the sleeping man, quiet enough not to disturb him. "How can you believe half the shit I say when I don't even think it's true?" The dog sighed and closed its eye, the muscles around the blind one twitching. "I'm not satisfied by this world one bit, and here I am, pushing you to accept it.
"Stop relying on me so much, Tieria, because eventually I'll run out of the right things to say."