crushed_pearls | Come Sail Away IC Inbox

It doesn't rush to answer that, taking a breath of its weighted blanket, the scent of lavender and chamomile. "Erin, what do you imagine would happen, if Max-my-roommate dies? What do you think the next morning would look like for him?"

Home is a place you can feel safe. There's nothing any of them can do to blunt the edges of this world, not really. But it's ready to exist in a role that offers support to the ones it cherishes.

When it steps into the position of a bodyguard behind Cassandra, it's not promising that it can actually protect her from every threat. But it is offering to try. And that helps her. When it sleeps beside Helena, to help chase the nightmares away, it's not deleting the painful memories she has. But it's giving her pleasant ones for now. That's something. When it gently nudges Klaus away from his cruel self-talk, it's not literally fighting their father's cruelties. But it's reminding them to participate in that fight.

It doesn't need to cut its own arm off to prolong the life of a human in a zombie swarm. It needs to be present. That...that is important in itself.

"I imagine you'll be there for him. And probably remind him that we don't just jump out windows just because someone said to in a very commanding voice." Erin chews her lip for a moment. "...I've sicced Ossie on him, to get him help. He'll need you to endure it. Fair warning."

"He will have me."

A stern little nod.

"Ossie...did a lot of the heavy lifting that led to this conversation. He said something that I had not been understanding before."

"He's good at that. What was it?"

"That what I choose to be doesn't have to not be what I was made to be. 'Sometimes it is a different question, of doing something for yourself as opposed to doing it for others.'"

Yes, that's convoluted. It's still revolutionary.

"...Yeah." Erin's hand brushes the hilt of her sword, a thoughtful and almost affectionate gesture. "Yeah, I dig it. I'm glad to hear it, SecUnit. You'll let me know if I can ever help, yeah?"

It's not the only one trying to do things differently, after all.

"I will. Someday, I might even ask you to call me by a name. Not my current name, though, that one's not fitting very much at this point." And it pauses, glancing at her. It's almost an invitation if she wants to ask, at this point.

It sure is an invitation, but it's one Erin is visibly thinking over. She tilts her head, that birdlike gesture again, kept so long from a friendship long since ended in tears...

"...I look forward to hearing one that fits you better, SecUnit."

"Thank you." It's quiet but heartfelt. It sets the blanket down, finally stands. "Do you have plans for lunch?"

"Well I was gonna work up an appetite through world domination but I can put that off 'till next week."

It huffs, almost a laugh, and opens the door, holding it for her. "Buffet or Drunken Sailor?"

"Bit early for bar food, I think, so buffet it is." She's not gonna ask why it avoids the dining hall until she figures out why the fuck she herself avoids the dining hall. "Lemme just drop my blanket and book off and we can be on our way, yeah?"

After a pit stop at her cabin, where it politely avoids peeking into the room (not because of her, but to offer Helena her privacy, not that it would state this aloud), they have toward the buffet, where it is solidly brunchtime. Which means it's time for the heavy machinery to pile on the chocolate chip pancakes.

That sounds like a plan actually. Erin follows suit, though she also lays in heavy on the protein. As always she's a big eater, though with how hard it's been to eat lately...well, it's been a good morning so far, let's say.

She settles in at the table and starts in on the syrup. Yes the meat will get syrup.

She'll let SecUnit continue the conversation here. It doesn't invite her out to eat a lot, and she's not gonna presume its mind on the matter.

Also now that she is eating Erin is fucking ravenous, so there's that.

What it doesn't do is rush to fill the silence, taking things slow and letting the pancakes have the bulk of its attention for a moment.

But in the manner it's always had, it drops the revelation casually (though it's kind enough to wait until after she's swallowed a bite so she doesn't choke on it).

"Murderbot. The name I call myself is Murderbot. It has been since I found out why my memory was purged."

Erin's fork stops partway to a bacon strip with enough syrup on it to, spiritually, be a pancake. There's a long pause before she sets it down and takes a drink of coffee instead.

At last: "I can see why you might be shopping for a replacement these days, yeah."

"I haven't killed anyone on this ship. Murder or otherwise. Not even during the battle royale." It did shoot Crabb, but that was...look, it wasn't aiming to kill.

"Good streak to hold onto." She can't stay away from the bacon, she's too hungry. "How you feeling about that?"

"I'm not sure I have been. Feeling about it, I mean. It's more the feeling that perhaps that name was never one I deserved that's set in that I've been feeling about. The. Idea that maybe I am managing to do good. Or something."

It has been working on all of this for a while, Erin. Really, it has.

"Or something," Erin echoes softly. "...Here lately I've found myself repeating something I got told, when I took help. Good people, bad people...people are just people. We don't get to be good or bad, that shit would be convenient and simple and the thing is few, if any, people are simple or straightforward."

An awfully convenient worldview for Erin specifically, which she'd told the Bishop who gave it to her. And the Bishop had laughed, and asked her what saint she knew that it wasn't convenient for.

"Erin, I'm a cyborg. It shouldn't be surprising that I gravitate towards binaries." But that's said with warm humor.

"...I can't make the gender joke here, I'm starving amidst plenty with how hard you walked right into one."

"Walked into a gender? Hardly." It flashes her a wry smile before diving back into pancakes.

"..." Erin busts up laughing. "I'm just - no you don't - like - I just - like, you bump into Skulduggery and then under the next full moon you just start grilling and building a deck -"

Is Dad a gender? It is for this sudden mental image.

"...like a deck of cards?" Erin. Erin, it lives in space. Its time on planets was in pneumatically sealed habitats for planetary surveys. It has never had a deck.

(or a dad)

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Feel free to get us there I am the Unbrain

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