Sixth Iteration

7 had seen how Eddie and Venom were acting strange, had seen mentions on the network that there was something wrong with the devices for some people. She'd chosen to hide out and lay low, waiting for it to pass. She'd never been confronted with this sort of issue before; to think you know some, know about how they're going to react, and then for whatever reason they start behaving totally differently. She'd decided it was better to observe (as was usually the case when dealing with emotional dilemmas).

She maintained her scheduled patrol runs, and still spent the night at the house, but otherwise she's taken to lurking on roofs until it got too cold, and then hanging out at the Inn by the fire. She was perfectly prepared to maintain this routine until things returned to normal, but then one day her device had beeped, and then the display had glitched and the device itself had shifted from Navy Blue to Yellow.

"Huh, that's ... odd." She felt she should be more concerned with this change, especially considering what she's already heard about Eddie and the others, but she'd been on her way to the Inn for a meal and was suddenly just as curious to see what the crowd was up to, as well as grabbing something to eat.

She slams the door open with a grin, pausing a moment to see how many people noticed her entrance, then walking in with a word and a greeting for anyone who happens to catch her attention. Does she know you? She might punch your arm ... affectionately so, but still ...

For the next twenty-four hours she's going to be a lot less soft-spoken.

It had taken a bit for 7 to get over her first hangover, which wasn't as bad as when she'd been legitimately ill yet was the experience was possessed of horrors of its own and it would be too soon a thing to revisit. The moment she's feeling slightly better, she's up and out.

The schedule she maintains is more active in the late afternoon and evening, stopping by the Inn for lunch and again for dinner before heading out to do her Patrols, partnering with however she'd been assigned, or if it's an off-night just doing some general Exploring.

It's cold out, and she's never exactly dressed for it, but she makes up for that by keeping active; always moving, scaling trees, hoping from roof to roof. Being human sized in a human world - especially one as sparsely populated as this - meant there was a severe lack of things for her to spring off of or to or about, but she makes do with what she had.

Bathed in moonlight, she can most easily be found as a spectre darting among the shadows, spear in hand, bola hanging from her belt, and her cave wolf skull-mask obscuring her face.

Closed to Wanda

7's a late sleeper, so the knocking at the door catches her just as she's starting to rouse for the day. Eddie's out, wherever it is he went to, so it fell to her to answer the door.

She opens it and blinks in the daytime light, clothes rumpled from sleeping, hair falling out of its braid.

"Hey?"

Closed to Kat

It's been a few months since 7 has first arrived in the village. She's starting to get used to being surrounded by what she considers is a crush of people, and while she appreciates her solitude still she has found it's been nice to have friends; people she searches out for their companionship and that human connection that wasn't too far removed from the close friendships she'd formed with the other dolls.

She and Kat had talked on New Year's, but then again they were both pretty ... sloshed. Now that 7's recovered from the epic awful hangover that resulted from that night, she wanted to check on her friend and hang out when they were both of a clearer head.

There's a sharp knock at Kat's door.

"Kat, are you in? It's 7."

Closed to Venom

It was a highlight of her day - or nights, rather - after she'd had dinner and when most people are settling down for the night, when she's not scheduled for patrol she goes out hunting with Venom. He doesn't need her there; he's more than capable of taking down his own meals, but 7 appreciated being allowed to join in. It was a rush; riding along his back as he bounded through the woods, helping to herd quarry toward him, playing lookout and looking for the next target.

It's always been one of her favorite parts of living here, even from their earliest tussle before she knew who he really was, but now there's this odd extra layer; seeing him makes her smile, holding onto his back and feeling the wind against her cheek brings her the purest joy.

She finds him, fitting her skull mask over her braid and preparing for the night. "So, what are you in the mood for?"

Lunchtime

A routine had not so much been established as it had organically grown into being; 7 waking up mid-morning, going through ablutions and touching up the braided hairstyle that Altaïr taught her, which kept it up and out of her way. Then, she'd join Eddie for lunch at the Inn. She was warming up to the idea of people in general, even as it seemed more and more sifted in everyday; and while she may not be as relaxed as Eddie, she's not quite darting eyes about as she used to. One major change is that she's stopped carting her spear about everywhere she goes; this is not a hunt, it's a casual meal, and she's grown to the point that she recognizes it does not need to come with her here. All in all, it's a normal day, normal routine, normal conversation ... until there's an alert on her wrist device. She stares at it, frowning, then glances to Eddie before back at the device. Hesitantly, she taps the alert, and a little timer pops up.

It feels so good that people know now. Especially 7. It's hard to tell if it's Venom spilling over into him when he looks at her, but Venom is allowed his pleasures too. Indeed they're in more of an accord and while he sips at his water. It's peaceful. He nods to her and smiles, feeling awake and pleased to be here for the first time since his arrival. When she looked at the phone he paused, peering over and...

"When is that --" Before she can finish her thought, there's another little alert ping as a file message is received. 7's staring at it like one might stare at an angry rattlesnake - machines made her nervous and wasn't this just a miniature one? - but eventually reaches forward to open it, curiosity getting the better of her.

( 44:20-44:35 if you have the movie )( 44:20-44:35 if you have the movie )-- and that's where the video cuts.

The moment the video had stared, 7 had frozen stock still; seeing them all again - seeing this moment - when she's least expecting it is an absolute punch to the gut. She feels her blood turn to ice and her breath catches in her throat and that anger - palpable, unresolved, tucked away but not forgotten, flares up and for a moment she's not even sure where she is. When it cuts out, she pulls in a sharp breath, suddenly aware of the Inn again and glancing around like a rabbit that somehow inadvertently found its way into a fox's den. She looks at Eddie, part of her wants to say something, to explain, to get rid of this terrible burden that's weighing her down, everything between the loss of 2, the anger toward 1, the Machines, being here, being human, and how it's no longer just her secret.

"...What the hell?" It just bursts out as V stirs awake inside of Eddie. Are those toys?Is this some sort of...movie? TV show? he blinks at 7, at her horror, "...Did you- I take it you didn't mean to get the TV?"

Had the video continued, it would have shown 7 doing exactly what she does now; instead of answering Eddie, she pushes away from the table, ignoring any words or actions that speak otherwise, she turns and tears out of the Inn and runs as fast as she can towards the seclusion of the woods; somewhere dark and alone where she can tuck away from everything and everyone and try to process what just happened.


Text to Altaïr

UN: windmaker

hey. i was wondering if you were free today? i have something I want to show you.

[It was hard enough sending that text, so it takes a little longer after she's actually sent it to send the followup;]it's important. i think. it is to me.

The thing about being human is that they felt things a little sharper - skin, muscles, nerves, she hadn't been unfeeling as a doll, but there seemed to be much more about the human body that was apt to go wrong or be injured. Since arriving she's been introduced to hunger, sleep deprivation, bruising, and ever so gradually the shift in weather towards a cooler clime.

That she hadn't quite been aware of until late, but a sudden, sharp introduction woke her up one morning as something skittered across her hand, and it suddenly felt hard, and cold, and heavy. She sits up, looking at her hand that is now encased in ice, for a moment entirely unable to connect with what she's actually staring at and just dimly aware on how uncomfortable it is, until there's a slight tingling in her hand and fingers, then a slight glow, and then the the ice melts and burns away and her hand returns to normal. She flexes it, wondering if she is somehow still dreaming, and eventually slides out of bed to make go about her day.

By the time she's arriving back at home in the evening, she's almost forgotten about the incident since it hadn't seemed to happen again, although there had been some strange incidents involving flames shooting from her hands. Trying to figure that out had kept her pretty busy, but she's arriving home with the understand that she's somehow developed the power to create and control (with some concentration) fire.

She makes herself some tea, then sets some wood in her fireplace, stands back to take a breath, and then makes a motion of punching her hand at it. The first attempt doesn't work, though she can feel the tingle in her palm and see some embers fall out. She concentrates for a moment, and with a sudden burst her hand erupts in flames. She looks at it, transfixed by the fact that it doesn't hurt, and then punches again at the fireplace. A ball of flames shoots out and ignites the wood and is immensely satisfying.

Fire started, she shakes her hand out and reaches for her tea, but ... it's gone cold and solid in a big mug of ice. She frowns at it, and then motion on the table catches her eyes and she looks at a little mouse, hanging onto her spear as it leans against the stable, tendrils of frost and ice starting to creep out from the little rodent's paws along the length of the shaft. She makes a grab at the mouse, but it's fast, and darts across the table, off a chair, and across the living room, leaving icy little footprints behind and encasing everything it touches in a thick coating of ice.

Following it, she slips on one of the icy patches and slams into the floor, a brief tingle in her hand as a firebolt shoots out into the wall. The mouse has stopped, sitting on her backpack (now in its own icy prison) and chitters are her. She throws her hand towards it, sending out another fireball that thaws the backpack, but the mouse has jumped off and moves on.

She chases it around the house, grabbing at it and trying to mitigate the wintry wonderland that it's trying to make of her home, until it slips into a hole and 7 scrabbles on the ground behind it, kneeling down and peering into the hole as she grumbles in annoyance. So far, she was not a fan of the cold, and she was not a fan of this creature trying to inundate her life with it.

But the mouse is now long gone, hidden somewhere in the walls of the house, and 7 sits back and huffs a sigh in order to think about what to do next. Beyond that, however, she becomes aware of a pleasant warmth and a soft glow; contrary to the icy palace the mouse was trying to convert this place into, it was warm and, maybe almost too hot?

Turning slowly, afraid of what she's going to find, 7 is treated to the truth that some of those little puffs of fireballs had found some very burnable purchases in the predominately wooden house. She's reminded suddenly of the fire in the cathedral, but they'd been able to make it out before it had gotten too big, but big it had gotten, and sitting here now she could see that it was spreading fast.

Fast rising, too, was that panic; the way her chest tightened and made it hard to breathe and her skin almost felt like it was alive. It wasn't long before the little blue light appeared, directing her out of the house and out of danger. She leapt to her feat and started to follow, then stopped and doubled back to grab her backpack and her spear, and then turn to follow the blue light again. The fire, though, where she passed close to the licking flames, hadn't seemed to effect her.

She runs her spear and backpack outside, pauses a moment, then runs back in to see if she could salvage any more of her human necessities. As she realizes the fire doesn't hurt her, the panic subsides, but even after thoroughly scouring the burning house she finds not everything else is as lucky. Of her bolas, only the rocks remained, plate-ware was cracked, utensils melted. The dagger's she'd inherited from Cael safe in her backpack so that wasn't a concern.

Finally admitting defeat, she settles down to sit in front of her house as it burns itself down to embers, watching as the sky is dotted with floating pieces of ash. Oh, did this bring back memories, and her shoulders slump. She wasn't quite as excited about the fire powers now.

[[Find her In the village playing with her fire powers, later that evening maybe try to convince her not to run back into a burning building, or catch her afterwards contemplating the embers.]]