Smut, Gen, Angst, Fluff, Anything, Everything. PFL era, Post war, Pre Canon, AU, ETC, Full starter or pic prompt, drop it like it's hot Brackets or Prose whatever you're comfortable with Tag and go!
"Same here. Just got a 'you'll be partnered up with someone compatible' and shunted off to you. So. We're in the same boat, buddy. But we'll figure it out."
He can't help but grimace at that, and he's glad he's wearing a helmet. "Yeah, that sounds like the Project." He didn't understand the descisions they made, but it wasn't really his place to question them either. He was on his last chance.
"I'm gonna retire for the night- ping me when you need me, ok?" He's pretty sure Wash won't pull him to sleep, especially if he hunkers down in the chip where he's supposed to be and just...chills till the next round of tests. No need for adjustments when there aren't tests being run, no need to poke around curiously when it's not his head he's doing the poking in.
"Alright. I mean, you don't have to. Do you sleep?" He's pretty sure this was never covered in their training. There had been all sorts of stuff about combat improvements and the technical side and nothing really about the reality of having a tiny person living inside your brain. That seems like an oversight.
"Nah. I just retreat to my chip and do puzzles or something. Review footage, find places we can improve." Does he sleep? Sometimes he thinks he does but. AI don't sleep. Right? Right.
"AI don't sleep, dude. We don't have squishie bits that need rest. It's ok." It's life. Or. He thinks it's life, considering that this is a brand new assistance for him.
"Ping me when you need me, ok? See you on the other side." He recedes, like he said he would, that warm burr settling in the chip as he reviews what they've done so far, marked places where they could improve. Made himself comfy.
"Alright. Rest well..." He supposes. Or whatever York does anyway. It's an odd feeling, suddenly being alone in his head, but it's not quite as empty as it was before. He can still feel York , a warmth at the back of his skull.
He heads off towards the mess, aching from the day, but he feels pretty good.
It's all pretty normal till, well. Wash sleeps. Then York tries his hand at it because sleeping should be fine, right? Turn off his brain for a bit and drift and...it's easier than it should be, the drifting. Finds himself in a house with a lot of doors- not familiar but. Familiar to Wash, probably. Step by step and he loses the armor, settling into the more conscious sense of 'him' that he's got.
Jeans. Grifbll T- a face. Hair. Blue eyes that flick around till he opens a door and finds- well. Wash. Wherever he's dreaming whatever he dreams.
His dreams aren't always the greatest. He'd seen frontline action even before the project and anyone who'd been there has nightmares. But this one isn't that. There's a broken mirror, and blood and a Wash who looks disturbingly young to be so hard.
He blinks at York for a moment, frowning at the new element to his dream, before he shrugs off that skin and looks mostly like his waking self.
"I'm dreaming? I think." He shrugs and leans against the doorframe, lifting a hand to wave. AI shouldn't have faces, right? At least not so clearly defined ones. But he does and the air changes a little, going heavy with the weight of rain and an impending thunderstorm. "You look kinda rough there. Wanna talk about it?"
"I thought you didn't sleep." It was odd to see him here. He was confused where he was. Was he sleeping?
And York he realises after a moment, has a face. An actual human face. No armour. No projected light. He looks human. He shivers at the change in atmosphere and then finally looks down at himself, at the blood still spattered over him. "I... I had a bad dream."
"I don't. This is sort of- I dunno. Halfway booted? A resting state." The usual tinny tone to his voice is missing- leaving it warm and resonant and solid. There's no overall golden color, no glow. Just him with his skin and his eyes, pushing away to offer Wash a hand. "C'mon. This room's no fun, lemme take you somewhere better."
"You look real. I mean... you look human." Not like an AI at all. No glowing, no helmet. His voice is different when it isn't reverberating from the helmet speakers or from the inside of Wash's skull. He blinks at him for a moment and then takes his hand, letting York pull him up.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
Not that he ever had a head. What?
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
He heads off towards the mess, aching from the day, but he feels pretty good.
no subject
Jeans. Grifbll T- a face. Hair. Blue eyes that flick around till he opens a door and finds- well. Wash. Wherever he's dreaming whatever he dreams.
"Hey buddy."
no subject
He blinks at York for a moment, frowning at the new element to his dream, before he shrugs off that skin and looks mostly like his waking self.
"York? What... what's going on?"
no subject
no subject
And York he realises after a moment, has a face. An actual human face. No armour. No projected light. He looks human. He shivers at the change in atmosphere and then finally looks down at himself, at the blood still spattered over him. "I... I had a bad dream."
no subject
no subject
"That would be good."
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)