Not Hunting [Marionette]

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[attr="class","johntitle"]John

all the nightmares came today and it looks as though they're here to stay

Early February, 310
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John had spent the last hour or so slinking behind a dog. His furtive movements followed the dog for miles. He didn't know why he was doing it, but it felt comfortable. It reminded him of the days when he used to trail behind dogs, getting ready for that perfect moment. The dog he had been following stopped and turned to look at him when the direction of the wind changed and carried the Augment's scent up to his quarry. He didn't disintegrate into the quivering mess he usually did despite the dog's hard, warning stare back at him--a stare which John could see thanks to his enhanced eye. John's body was achingly hungry to kill that dog, but he refrained from doing so. Though, he did allow his mind to fantasize.
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John was in his element here, even as he aborted the hunt before he went too far. An emotional distance between himself and this other dog, who continued his trek, though moved now with a few distrustful glances backward. When the dog was gone from view, John looked behind him. He was many miles away from his pack again, so perhaps he had already taken it too far. But at least he didn't end up killing a dog this time. He let them fade from his sight, but his cybernetic eye kept a close watch. His attention lingering in case John had a sudden change of heart, but ultimately, he should enough temperance to keep control. The Sighthound mix was almost ashamed of what he had done despite the fact that he had done nothing.
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A small whine escaped from his throat. John looked back towards the direction of Flaxrown. He should head back before he did something he regretted. Head up, he started the long jog back. He needed to be careful because the Wastelanders sometimes spent the coldest parts of the Heartland winter in the farmland's remaining buildings and homes.
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Still, out of necessity, he used the trails run by hundreds of dogs and humans because he was too heavy to make it through the snow. His metal reinforced bones added significantly to his weight and would make him sink deeply in the thick blanket of snow that most dogs could run across because of the icy crust on top. He missed the snow-less months. When he could sprint at top speed for miles and miles, testing the physical limits of his body, training himself for those moments just in case. Even now, his body was toned and tight and hard. Well-muscled and sure and graceful in his movements. John's ranking had been changed because of the change in power in Flaxrown--now the Knights of Heartland. He went from Vassal to Heartlander. He was fond of that title. It made it seem like he belonged here.
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Marionette

Pattern (cc) Evan Eckard @ DinPattern.com | table coding by Quirky Tea

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[nospaces]

[attr="id","mari"]

[attr="id","marion"]would you cry if i died?

[attr="id","marione"]would you remember my face?

[attr="id","marionette"]She never thought she would find herself treading these fields again. It seemed like so long ago when she had last felt the familiar soil underneath her paws. It was almost exactly as she had left it: overgrown and void of most human life. Her masters had primarily focused on tending to the herd, or at least what had been left of it. With most farmers gone, many of which she assumed were driven out by the mutants, it had been a hard life. But her humans had been stubborn, refusing to leave their land even when the situation took a turn for the worst. Are they still there? She wondered, a soft sigh passing through her nose as mottled blue and brown eyes gazed across the overgrown farmland.
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"The mistress misses her family?"
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She tore her gaze away from the nostalgia that washed over her, instead setting her sights on the small Watcher hover by her side. The robot was busy focusing on the dog rather than the scenery, but she could understand why. It had probably drawn her attention away from something that could have caused her to loosen her focus on keeping their connection stable. She had more faith in herself than that, but perhaps it was just because the robot wouldn't know what to do in the middle of nowhere without a link. Of course. Her tail gently waved behind her. Mother and brother are gone... But... Maybe father is still alive. Maybe he got out with the master and mistress.
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"Oh."
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Such a small response. It was short and almost childlike. Perhaps she was just growing so attached to the robot that she started hearing different tones within its otherwise monotonous, mechanical voice. It was, after all, her only friend. "The mistress is... a friend?" Ah, that's right. Not even thoughts to herself were safe from its invasive connection. Yes. She glanced at the Watcher once more before lowering her head. We should move. A whir beside her was the Watcher's only response as it took the lead. The pair traveled close together with the small robot keeping above her while rotating this way and that way, keeping lookout while easily following the collie's pace.
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Her nose reached the ground, burrowing into the snow as she sniffed around, taking in deep breaths while trying to find her way. If they had already wandered this far, they might as well take a little trip to her home. But, what would they do then? It was cold, the snow was thick, and she doubted that they would be able to leave before they were noticed in this weather. Her ears twitched as the Watcher began to beep. The sound was quiet since there was no need to alert her from afar. It was just enough to draw her attention away long enough to notice that they had reached what appeared to be a path, one she was only partially familiar with. Only her mother ever went out with the humans, so she had only seen the trail when the herd traveled close enough.
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"Dog!"
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The merle quickly lowered herself into the snow, her pelt a near perfect match to the ground had it not been for the merle pattern. "Dog! Dog!" The Watcher puttered about in a circle around the cowering female while chirping out the word. Stop that! Cease and desist! The Watcher paused, lowering itself until it was hovering mere centimeters above the snow. "Hiding." She let out something close to a grunt, though it was more of a wheeze of air. I swear, you're only like this because I called you a friend. Where is the semi-intelligent machine I woke up next to?
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Ah, that's right, hadn't it been alerting her of a dog? Oh! You distracted me!

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[attr="class","johntitle"]John

all the nightmares came today and it looks as though they're here to stay

John had planned to hurry back to Flaxrown where he could see his packmates and perhaps tell one of the Knights that he almost indulged in something he was trying to not do and be congratulated. He hadn't been clear about his past. Only that he liked to do bad things sometimes. Terrible things. He had pinpointed a trigger for these dark impulses. It was usually his crippling social anxiety that forced him to question why suffer through it when he could simply cut the dog down.
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And then, he heard the chirping warning of a machine in the distance. "Dog!" Immediately, John raised his head and scanned the area. He was suspicious, a little nervous that there was something around. He saw a small orb in the distance and he used his sharp eye to scan the Watcher. He saw the shape and knew by the way it was activated and moving, that there was someone there. Watchers didn't work on their own. They weren't wild moving things. They sapped their strength from the energy of life. John thought of them as parasites, though he had utilized a couple in his life. Mostly to get into buildings or activate machines. Useful tools for the moments he needed them.
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Perhaps he could revel in what he wanted to do. If only for a moment. He wouldn't hurt her. Just satisfy his inclinations a little bit. He moved down towards the hidden dog and kept his distance. He took a long, deep breath, catching her scent in the air. It wasn't familiar, but time can change the scent of a dog. She smelled like she was reasonably healthy, though she seemed frightened. Why was that? At this range, he could rush her if she wasn't expecting him to, but somehow, John was wondering something else entirely. Why was she afraid? Did she know him from somewhere? Did the secret of his past somehow catch up to him. Paranoia spiked. Now, if she knew him, John couldn't possibly let her live.
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He approached her cautiously. His weight was carried forward because he hadn't taken the option of killing her off of the table just yet. And that escape route allowed him to calm himself a little bit. John ventured on until he saw her merle coat. He paused. He didn't recognize her at all. And now, murder seemed like it might not be a good idea. However, seeing her flattened against the snow did give him a boost of confidence. Enough to not be in the full throes of a panic attack. "I'm, I'm, I'm..." he was caught in a stammer. He cleared his throat and averted his eyes. His voice was a little high for a male his size: a soft tenor. "My name is John. Why are y-y-you, um, h-hiding? Am I really that scary?" His paws were deep in the snow of the trail, a clue to his heavy weight. His right eye had a dark crimson cast to the pupil--a clue that it was not a natural eye, but enhanced with machinery. When he spoke, his teeth glinted in the sunlight, made of metal as was his jaw. The slightly longer fur between his shoulder blades and down his spine confirmed that he was an Augment if she couldn't figure it out by now.[break][break]
Marionette

Pattern (cc) Evan Eckard @ DinPattern.com | table coding by Quirky Tea

[nospaces]

[attr="id","mari"]

[attr="id","marion"]would you cry if i died?

[attr="id","marione"]would you remember my face?

[attr="id","marionette"]

Her body grew rigid as the sound of heavy steps through the snow reached her ears, and she could finally tell that the dog that the Watcher had 'warned' her about was nearing closer and closer. She tried retreating into the snow, her body visibly trembling with bursts of tremors as the snow clung to her pelt, melting against her heat and seeping towards her skin. She could handle the snow; she had dealt with it enough while herding to be near immune to it. Yet, here she was, a shivering mess as she coated herself in snow in an attempt to remain hidden. The Watcher, however, was a dead giveaway that someone was there.

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Her eyes squeezed shut at some point, as if not seeing whoever was a potential threat would make them go away. Yet, the steps grew closer and closer, and soon a stammering voice sounded out. She flinched, tucking her tail between her legs as she forced herself to look. Blue and brown eyes focused on the sighthound, scanning over his features like that man had poured over tattered books, soaking up every little detail she could find. He looked like he shouldn't weigh much, yet he sunk into the snow more than someone of his type should. Type? Was that even the correct word? Breed? Bloodline? Body? She returned her wide eyes to the stranger's face, now noticing why he was heavier than he should normally be. Well, it was more just an assumption as soon as she rested on one of his eyes.

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Oh.

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The Watcher putted as it raised higher above the snow, seemingly unafraid to get close and personal with its own observations. "Strange dog is not scary, but mistress is shy." She only seemed to still more at the mechanical voice, ducking her head to hide her eyes that would have otherwise glared vehemently at the small robot. She was not shy! She just... She couldn't trust strangers, no matter how they may come to meet. The Watcher took her silent thoughts as a means to continue on its own. "Fancy eye. Strange dog must be an Augment. How nice! The mistress is one as well." The Watcher moved back towards the shrunken merle as her thoughts finally spoke up along with a quick glance of alarm towards the robot, drawing her ears forwards then back. Do not give more information than is needed.

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[attr="class","johntitle"]John

all the nightmares came today and it looks as though they're here to stay

When Marionette looked at John, he immediately averted his eyes. He felt his heart beating quickly, but it soon calmed when no words came. When the female silently withdrew her gaze and the Watcher spoke on behalf of her. John tilted his head as the machine spoke for the female. Because the machine was speaking, the lurcher kept his eyes upon it. And he found that his anxiety wasn't as overwhelming as it usually was. Perhaps it was because the camera eye of the Watcher was not a living eye. It may have AI, but it didn't have a soul. It didn't have a heart. And the collie who was plastered against the snow, seemingly frightened, though the Watcher claimed otherwise. John wasn't certain which words were the machine's and which were the female's, as he hadn't yet heard her speak and he knew that these Watchers tended to speak for the dogs they had synced to. John was suspicious, but more at ease than if the dog was speaking to him directly. 
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"Y-you're an Augment?" John asked her, feeling a quiet kinship towards her with that realization. While he was asking her, he was addressing the Watcher. After his question, he moved around her, eyeing her like he would eye one of his prey and that kept him comfortable. This strange arrangement she had with her Watcher, the crumpled stance she held--it all made her easy for him to deal with. The machine may have said that she wasn't afraid, but John couldn't believe that. He watched her ears flick forward and back, the sharp glare she gave the robot. And he believed that there was some sort of communication between the tool that went further than using the Watcher as a tool. Why use the Watcher so extensively?
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He took one more step towards Marionette and lowered his head. "I usually. Um... I usually wouldn't want to stay. B-but, I think it's because you haven't said a word and you've kept yourself so small, that it doesn't feel so bad for me. Just l-l-look. I'm hardly stuttering!" His explanation was rather selfish. He wanted to stay because he wasn't freaking out. But John had been raised to be a weapon, not a gentleman. His mother didn't care enough to teach him between right or wrong. And he didn't even think to be considerate. To mention his lack of stuttering as a positive to a dog that obviously had either great difficulty doing so or else was unable to entirely. Normally raised dogs wouldn't dare do that. John didn't even think of it. Instead he celebrated his own small victories and was grateful to the dogs that helped him get there. He didn't even think to introduce himself.[break][break]
Marionette  

Pattern (cc) Evan Eckard @ DinPattern.com | table coding by Quirky Tea

[nospaces]

[attr="id","mari"]

[attr="id","marion"]would you cry if i died?

[attr="id","marione"]would you remember my face?

[attr="id","marionette"]

Even if he was another Augment, she was not about to loosen up around him. He obviously had actually upgrades, unlike herself. She could see the eye, the way it seemed to focus more like a camera with unnatural accuracy in detecting movements and body language rather than having to quite literally stare down the object of the owner's attention. Somewhere deep down there was the longing for an upgrade as useful as a cybernetic eye; it would be far more useful than her current eyes. Maybe she could actually link to what the Watcher saw, allowing for better scouting by letting the small robot go off a ways while she hid in waiting. It would allow reaction times to be far faster; she would never have to wait for the Watcher to return with a report. But, there was the other part of her that knew just how badly injured she would have to be in order for the nanobots to even consider completely remaking her eye. She would never be able to handle the pain long enough to remain awake. It had been hard enough with her neck.

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But what else did he have? She shrunk closer to the ground until she could no longer go down, physically incapable of doing so. Her head twisted and turned while following the sighthound as he circled around her. Was this what the herd had felt with her and her brother nearly constantly circling around them while they were working? At least they had strength in numbers. Definitely reinforced bones. He's too heavy. What else? As the stranger drew closer and lowered his head, she found her blue and brown eyes fixate on his muzzle. As he spoke, she found her final answer. Teeth. He was definitely someone to be feared. Even if he did not seem like much of a threat with his build and stuttering, she would have to be on her guard. Her father had survived that attack because of upgrades. I think. Everyone else was not so lucky.

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"Stay?" The Watcher spoke before she could wrap her mind around the dog's words. That's right. Why would he stay? The collie blinked, shock and confusion written on her face. "What purpose do you serve by staying?" The metal ball neared, its mechanical voice forming more coherent, well-formed sentences than before. Its previous positive state seemed to have switch, and the Watcher became defensive. "The mistress has places to be," -- no I don't -- "that do not involve the likes of strangers. I have half a mind to chase you off."

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Half a mind doesn't even cut it.

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"Mistress!" The robot turned, the camera in its 'eye' flashing at the merle. For a moment, her expression and body language turned sheepish, yet she was quite pleased with herself. However, it disappeared just as fast as it appeared when she remembered that she was in the presence of another. Her own eyes locked on the Watcher for beat of silence between the two before the robot's state once more switched. The floating metal turned back towards the stranger.

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"We must apologize for our behavior." Her eyes returned to the sighthound, and, despite her cowering stance, her gaze was more focused and certain than fearful and suspicious. Despite the robot speaking, it was clear that it was no longer the robot fully speaking by the usage of pronouns. While she wanted to use I and him, the robot translated it out as we. A mistranslation, perhaps. Or, maybe the robot's AI refused to take the full blame. "We are not accustomed to company, but if you wish to accompany us--" the Watcher's voice glitched and groaned, an odd 'stutter' of its own as the focus in the female's eyes faltered. "--introductions are in order. We are--" the voice distorted once more as Mari released her hold over the Watcher's speech. She squeezed her eyes shut, ignoring her own insecurity in the presence of another in order to quickly turn around and quite literally shove her face into the snow. Her body visibly relaxed despite the numbing cold around her head.

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The Watcher quickly resumed speaking once it calculated what was going to be said based on what she had previously been saying. "Oh! This is Mistress Marionette. Mistress?" The robot turned its attention away from the stranger to the merle who was currently ignoring both the robot and the other dog. With a beep, the Taneger resumed what it was doing. "Mistress is unaccustomed to fully controlling my speech. Pardon her actions." I wouldn't call it full control. It's more like simply inputting what I want you to say, yet you refuse to use proper pronouns. Her ears twitched in irritation, yet she kept her face hidden underneath the snow. A few more moments and the splitting headache should be gone.

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[attr="class","johntitle"]John

all the nightmares came today and it looks as though they're here to stay

John scanned her body for any upgrades now that he knew she was an Augment. But he didn't see any. He didn't even see the injury on her neck because she hadn't revealed it yet. For all that John knew, Marionette was cowering because she was stricken with anxiety like he was. It made him feel like he wasn't alone to see a dog who could look just as pathetic as he looked around others. And it boosted his confidence to be the one who initiated social contact. The machine put a comfortable distance between them. Like talking through a tin can telephone. 
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The sighthound mix averted his eyes when she felt him studying him. He could feel her looking at the clues. At what was changed. And, being an Augment, she probably understood that being so heavily modified meant that his body had been through hell and back. That he wasn't a safe dog to be around. That the flash of his silvery teeth as he spoke, whether he wanted it to be or not, was a threat: I can crush your throat if I wanted to. That his eye meant that little escaped his scrutiny. That his heavy bone meant he was sturdier than he appeared. What she could not see was his enhanced lungs and heart. Or just how involved his skeleton's enhancements were.
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John winced when the machine spoke, almost demanding to explain why he wanted to stay. And it really made John have to think about it. Nervously, he looked away and licked his lips. He furrowed his brow, considering the exact reason why. It's hard to explain his motivations when most of the time, he would much rather run away. And the machine wanted to chase him off now, too? Somehow, that was less scary than having a dog look down at him, tsk at him for being such an anxious boy, and either pity or hate him. Why did he want to stay? And he realized the answer, "Because I can stay. I want to stay b-because I can." His face looked both nervous and eager. "It... is not easy for me around m-most dogs." The understatement of the century. He addressed the machine because it was easier for him to do so.
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And then, he saw something switch in the Watcher. The voice that emerged was still the machine's but, despite the monotone, it had a different edge to it. And John glanced at Marionette. Her gaze looked focused and he knew that these words. These were her words. The pronouns weren't perfect. She said we instead of I and he had to decipher her words to figure out if she was talking about herself, the Watcher, or the both of them together. So, did that mean that she had to speak through this machine? That she had to fight the AI in order to work her words out? Was that anything like trying to push out words when he was stricken with anxiety? It was so hard to make sentences without a stammer or a halt in his speech, especially when speaking with another dog. But Marionette's arrangement with her Watcher was easier for his strange brain to process than taking in the whole of the dog in front of him.
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With her arrangement, it was like he could deal with one piece at a time. He didn't have to hear emotion in her speech. He didn't have to try to read it the lines between the words. Her behavior appeared submissive, but it helped John a lot. "I'm John." A simple name. A common name. It almost sounded like it couldn't be his name. "You can't talk, Marionette? That's good. That makes it even easier." His words were getting steadier and then he realized his mistake. Adorably, he hopped back, suddenly too aware of how lightly he had considered her predicament. "Sorry, I mean. It's tough. It must be tough. Um. I mean. It's... S-sorry. I'm bad at this." He lowered his head. It must be hard. To live a life where your words could never be your own again.[break][break]
Marionette  

Pattern (cc) Evan Eckard @ DinPattern.com | table coding by Quirky Tea

[nospaces]

[attr="id","mari"]

[attr="id","marion"]would you cry if i died?

[attr="id","marione"]would you remember my face?

[attr="id","marionette"]

John? Such a simple name. A single syllable. That meant it was easier to remember, and it was probably easier for humans to give commands to. At least, she assumed he had human contact. It was a very human name, though she probably was not the best source of knowledge on humans. She only knew three so far, and she could never recall their names. It was always Master, Mistress, or Stranger. Now that she thought of it, not even the Watcher gave her the name of her savior. Ah, that was a fourth one, she would guess. 'Savior'. Twitching her ears once more, she slowly withdrew her head from the snow, screwing her eyes shut before blinking them open. With slow, careful movements, she stood up a little higher, just enough to shake her long pelt free from the snow that blanketed her underbelly and clung to her head.

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"You should be more mindful of your words, strange John," the Watcher did not seem nearly as bothered as its words made it sound. The robot drew a little closer to the sighthound, still making observations and recording them for further analysis. "What if the Mistress takes offense? 'Tough' is not even a proper term for her situation. Of course, she has me for her speech! Would that make this 'easy'?" As the Watcher puttered out its words, the collie slunk towards the path and out of the thicker areas of snow. You really ought to end your speech a few sentences early. She looked back at the two, her posture still small yet the air around her a hint more relaxed than before now that introductions were out of the way.

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"It would appear that the Mistress does not mind your..." As the robot hovered over to the female augment, its speech paused for a moment as it tried to find the correct word. "Bluntness? Oddness?" Marionette tilted her nose up towards the Watcher. You should stop. "Stopping." Thank you. Her blue-brown eyes once more focused on John, looking over his seemingly unthreatening features once more before landing her gaze on his eyes. Her ears lowers. Ask him-- "Do you know of a farm with two Wastelanders and a Border Collie around these parts?" She might as well ask. If he knew, then perhaps she shouldn't scout out her hold home. But, if he didn't, then it should be safe to go without being spotted and taken back. It's not like the Master would take me back, anyway, not when he thinks I'm dead.

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ooc: short! sorry; i have my software engineering midterm in... about fifteen hours. gotta go do some cramming.

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[attr="class","johntitle"]John

all the nightmares came today and it looks as though they're here to stay

To be rebuked by the machine was amusing to John--not because he thought little of it, but because of how different it felt for a machine to tell him to mind his words vs. if a dog had told him. He felt sorry, but it didn't send him in that emotional tailspin that would have occurred if Marionette told him herself. Not that she could. And he took strange comfort in that fact. Was this what it felt like to be a normal dog? It still wasn't as easy as he thought it would be. There was still that tightrope he had to walk. Say the right thing and when he didn't he was, of course chastised. But it didn't feel like that tightrope was hundreds of feet in the air over a pit of spikes,  the rope swaying underfoot with every powerful gust of wind. 
[break][break]
John smiled in the interaction and it brightened up his face. His tail wagged slowly at first and then became a whippy blur. And then Marionette emerged from the snow. And raised her body a little bit more. John felt nervous. What if she was getting ready to hurt him? Did he really offend her with his blunt words? He had never been one who was good at this interaction thing. Except if he was sure the interaction would end with killing a dog. He was good at that. But, he didn't want to kill Marionette. She provided a rare opportunity for him. Conversation without anxiety simply by virtue that she was forced to speak through a Watcher.
[break][break]
This ease reminded him of how it was to speak with his brother, Roland. Well, before he killed him. He missed Roland. Life was easier when it was him, his mom, and his brother. Simpler. He took orders instead of having to think for himself. John fidgeted until the machine admitted that Marionette did not mind his awkward honesty. He lit up at that. "R-Really?" John said, a smile on his face. His mannerisms were childish. He was shy like a young puppy could be shy. Timidity from not knowing how to deal with adults, from being afraid of being wrong or chastised. For wanting to say the right thing, but not understanding what it was. When she asked about a farm, John wanted to please her. He wanted to give her the right answer.
[break][break]
"Um..."
[break][break]
He could only remember his mother. "Keep your head down, John! Let mother deal with this." And he would make himself small and he would be quiet and the other dog wouldn't notice how dangerous the shy, puppyish adult was. He'd think John was a little slow, probably. And be wrong. Dead wrong.
[break][break]
"I... don't really pay attention. Should... should I?" He tilted his head, looking at the Watcher because looking at Marionette was still too much for his social anxiety. He had spent the last hour or so trailing a dog, but was single-minded in his pursuit. He wished that Roland was here. He could tell him what to do with a pretty girl. John wasn't raised as a dog, but as a weapon.[break][break]
Marionette

Pattern (cc) Evan Eckard @ DinPattern.com | table coding by Quirky Tea

[nospaces]

[attr="id","mari"]

[attr="id","marion"]would you cry if i died?

[attr="id","marione"]would you remember my face?

[attr="id","marionette"]

Her brow furrowed, if only by a minute movement. He didn't pay attention? For an augment who seemed to be littered with 'battle scars' in the form of upgrades, one would think that he would be more aware of his surroundings. Well, perhaps he was not from around these parts. Just passing through? Potentially. Maybe he was part of the pack that ruled this area, the one that he had heard his father whispering about to his mother as if their pups were not listening in. She was curious about them, but she was not someone to seek out large crowds. Dogs, particularly. How would she even go about that? Her gaze grew focused once more.

[break][break]

"You should at least pay attention to your surroundings, John. But... We guess this is reassuring." She flicked her ears, breaking her hold over the Watcher's voice with a hard blink. When will you stop filtering my pronouns? The merle shook her head, turning her attention and body away from John and down the path. If someone with a cybernetic eye hadn't seen them, then perhaps, perhaps, it would be safe to scout out her old home. Or, perhaps he is just that clueless to his surroundings. She wanted to doubt that, but she shouldn't make too many judgements upon just meeting someone. She couldn't go on believing that everyone was an enemy. She no longer had a flock to protect; she should learn to put more faith in others.

[break][break]

"Mistress is going to find her old home." You're giving away too much information, again. "If stranger John is coming, he better take mistress's advice." The Watcher slowly hovered backwards, keeping its 'eye' on John. As the robot spoke, Marionette began walking, the white fur of her underbelly grazing over the flattened snow of the path. Her movements were still cautious, though she picked up her pace a little more now that she had gathered her bearings and figured out just where she was going. Yet, her tail remained partially tucked, and her muscles remained tensed. "Mistress spoke of--" the Watcher cut itself off, beeping as it corrected its word choice, "--thought of mutants in these parts."

[break][break]

With that, the Watcher finally turned away from the other dog, picking up its own pace until it was moving just above the collie.

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[nospaces]

[attr="class","johntitle"]John

What are we coming to? No room for me; no fun for you

John looked down shamefully. So, he should have been paying more attention. It wasn't his initial inclination to do so. Especially when he was focused on a single task. Especially when he was hunting. I'm not hunting. He squeezed the thought out of his head. Hunting dogs is unfavorable. It's wrong. The way he considered morality was artificial. He didn't grow up with a good moral compass. He had his mother who would break his bones until they grew back stronger. And forever changed him. It never crossed his mind to ponder if he was more metal than dog now. But then again, he was still so immature. Emotionally and socially stunted.
[break][break]
He only nodded and mumbled, like a puppy, "Yes, m-ma'am. I'll p-pay attention." His characteristic stutter was becoming less prominent as he grew more comfortable around Marionette. She can't talk. She doesn't even look at me, not really. It made it all so much easier. He wagged his tail and flashed his silver smile and then closed his mouth immediately, shyly. He remembered sometimes that dogs were afraid of his grin because it revealed that even his bite was upgraded. Stronger force. Sharper teeth. Deeper bite.
[break][break]
So, Marionette wasn't here for no reason. She was checking for her old home. John thought about it and realized he didn't really have a home. If his mother wasn't breaking his bones, they were nomads. If she was, then they'd find some dark, safe hole to hide in until he was healed enough to continue. Same with Roland. She never injured her sons at the same time, so she'd at least have one protector. The thought of having a dedicated home was foreign to him. Even now, with a pack, The Knights of Heartland, John was always wandering. He couldn't even tell you the name of his Alpha if you asked.
[break][break]
When she started moving to find her home, John followed because he didn't know what else he was supposed to do. Perhaps he should go home, but for now, it was on the way. And he didn't want to leave Marionette when he almost felt normal with her.
[break][break]
"Mu-mutants?" John frowned when the Watcher mentioned it. He met a few dogs and humans so mutated that they weren't anything anymore. Not really. A broken brain and a body so twisted that it was nothing more than a dangerous, freakish monster. It was one of the jobs his mother had them do to keep them trained and also to keep them sharp: Mutant extermination. Remembering Marionette's and the Watcher's suggestion, he kept a lookout. It wasn't something he was used to, as Roland and his mother were always better at it than he was. John watched every part of the environment and trained his eye on each movement. Snowflakes drifting across the frozen banks. His gaze tracing each footprint and path through the fields, blanketed in snow. Every man-made structure got his scrutiny: Farmhouses, homesteads, barns, silos, and the like.
[break][break]
"Well, I can kill them if we find any," John looked onto the horizon and it wasn't hard to read on his face. There was almost a hopefulness that he'd be able to face some sort of adversity, get some excuse to cut someone down. And there was not a hint of a stammer in his voice there. It came out strong. And then, he sunk back into the simple, timid dog again, "I-I, uh, I mean, I've met some Mutants which aren't, well, aren't... bad. But there are some that..." He stopped talking. He hated when he sounded that way. Like an idiot. It was frustrating.  He just dropped his sentence and let it hang there after a huff of breath that fogged in the Winter air.
[break][break]
Marionette

Pattern (cc) Evan Eckard @ DinPattern.com | table coding by Quirky Tea

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[nospaces]

[attr="id","mari"]

[attr="id","marion"]would you cry if i died?

[attr="id","marione"]would you remember my face?

[attr="id","marionette"]

Ma'am. The were was the slightest of movement in her ears, a twitch of annoyance at the word. She was not a ma'am. Her mother? She was a ma'am. Marionette? No. Ma'am made her sound too old. Or, perhaps it was just too formal for her liking. She had even tried to get the robot to stop calling her mistress, yet the scrap metal refused to do so after what she originally thought was a moment of 'reconfiguration' on the matter. The Watcher had called her mistress not even a moment later.

[break][break]

While she kept her pale gaze focused on the well trodden path, her ears swiveled, alert, and listened to the sounds around them. Primarily, however, she found herself focusing on the heavy pawsteps of John. At such a close proximity, the crunch of the snow was far louder than what she stepped on. Was it just as loud from farther away? Could he properly sneak around? It was probably easier during the warmer seasons; winter was a harsh time for anyone unless you were built for the snow. What she was most curious about was how he came to acquire so many wounds and injuries to make a dog with a build (and personality) like his to be what it is.

[break][break]

Her thoughts snapped away from her curiosity when he spoke again, and this time she paused her steps to turn her head towards John. Solid voice. Blue and brown eyes focused on his face, searching for the meaning behind his words. It's obvious, really. And, just like that, he receded into his timid self. Was it just a mask? If so, which was the mask: the stuttering, insecure dog who preferred the company of a mute or the heavily upgraded killer? The slightest of chills ran down her spine, and for once she couldn't pinpoint whether it was from a twinge of fear or the cold.

[break][break]

"We understand."

[break][break]

That much not even she could be certain of, but she twitched her ears dismissively either way. She could not allow herself to get lost in trying to decipher the personality of a dog she just met, or any dog for that matter. She resumed her trek, taking the lead once more by quickening her pace. Shrinking her posture meant less room for her legs to easily move, and she almost looked rushed to continue. Her head only lifted up every once in a while to survey the area and search for landmarks before lowering once more. The Watcher, however, took it upon itself to continue on the conversation. It seemed like that was its main purpose at the moment. "Mistress lost her mother and brother because of mutants trying to prey upon the flock. Herd. What animal?" That last, short bit was directed at Marionette, yet the merle simply continued on her way. It didn't matter anymore to her.

[break][break]

After not receiving a reply, the Watcher went back to its chattering. "Mistress lost her voice that day, but all is well because the Master found her." The robot let out a string a beeps while floating higher into the air. "Mistress, to the left." Its mechanical words halted the collie's steps as she looked off in the direction the Watcher had pointed out, her ears perking up. Not even a beat of silence passed before she took off into a sprint towards a worn down building that looked more like abandoned patchwork from a city's slums than a farmhouse. The Watcher followed suit, abandoning its previous story.

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[nospaces]

[attr="class","johntitle"]John

I think about a world to come where the books were found by the golden ones

John was completely unaware of how uneasy he had made Marionette with that small reveal of his killer instinct. It was an identity that he found comfortable: that of a heavily-upgraded killer. To know that his suffering as he grew up had not all been in vain. But the upbringing had also created a dog who lacked independence. Who was naive to the way the world work. He had been raised a weapon. Nothing less; nothing more. All he knew was that she moved with a small shiver, his cybernetic eye catching that slight movement. More a physiological response than anything else--naked to an unenhanced eye. ”Are y-y-y..” he abandoned that sentence, not wanting to be caught in a stutter again. His lips moved slightly, as if testing the next word, ”Cold?” His tone was shy, but kind. Though his observation that probably was more unsettling than it was comforting.
[break][break]
He was making an effort. A tried and true effort. The Watcher said that they understood. But it wasn’t the same as it had been. When his mother would nuzzle into his neck, putting her weight into it because she knew he was strong enough for it, and whispering kindly about how useful he was to her. About how much she needed him. And reminding him that he needed her. He missed that. The world was so much simpler when he wasn’t asked to think for himself.
[break][break]
The shy sighthound mix kept quiet as he listened to the machine put words to Marionette’s memories. He had remembered when he and his brother ravaged a herd at his mother’s orders. A dog wanted food for his family. They killed an entire herd of horses. There was nothing natural about them and these two dogs, by then chimeras of flesh and machine, completely killed them. He could only think of how happy he was that he didn’t have a chatty Tanager, revealing his secrets. His past. Because, if he had, Marionette wouldn’t allow him to be such easy company. He knew that from experience.
[break][break]
He kept his vigilance up and when the Watcher pointed out that to the left was what Marionette was looking for, he studied the building. His ears pricked up when she started sprinting through the snow. ”W-w-w-w.” Wait! He couldn’t get the words out. He attempted to follow her. The building looked like it belonged in the city slums instead of the farmland. It was dilapidated, left to rot when the residents inside disappeared. Desperate, John tried to get his words to work. ”W-w-wait!” His heart was racing. Words didn’t matter anymore. She was long gone, a flash of white and red-gray upon the surface of the snow.
[break][break]
The Winter was not kind to him. He sank deep into it, his heavy weight and spindly legs making a bad combination. Still, he was strong. He could make it. He had to. He didn’t want to be left. But he also wanted to keep Marionette safe.
[break][break]
Marionette
[break][break]
((OOC: You can interpret the last as John knowing there is danger there or just being generally paranoid due to his hypervigilance--reading too far into things.))

Pattern (cc) Evan Eckard @ DinPattern.com | table coding by Quirky Tea

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[newclass=".johntitle:hover"]background-color: #6C828B;color: black;[/newclass]

[nospaces]

[attr="id","mari"]

[attr="id","marion"]would you cry if i died?

[attr="id","marione"]would you remember my face?

[attr="id","marionette"]

The sudden sight of her former home had caused her to act impulsively; she knew that much. It was apparent even to her as her being focused intently on the worn shell that her master had called home. White paws plowed through the snow, kicking up whatever her paws could in the process while leaving rough trail that branched from the main path. Despite her hurry, she had to trudge and hop as she reached deeper drifts of snow, yet the closer she was to the familiar building, the faster she became. All at once, she slammed on the brakes, sliding through the snow only a short distance before it managed to stop her completely.

[break][break]

Head raised high, ears alert, she took in a deep breath, sorting through the different scents immediately around her. The snow. It covered what she was looking for, hiding it away behind blankets of white. Her ears flicked as the whirring of the Watcher grew louder, eventually becoming nothing more than a constant hum just beside her. Scan the area, she lowered her head again, though this time it was to bring her nose closer to the ground. She trudged forward, nearing the building with her nose shoveling through the snow until she was at its wooden walls. Sniffing and sniffing as she moved, she paused every now and again to lift her head, to shake off the snow, or to assess where she was.

[break][break]

Stale... Stale... Stale... Her once hopeful posture grew lax, gradually slumping until she nearly seemed to give up. Outside? Nothing. The buildings was worn with misuse, though it had always been on the less fortunate side. But, it looked like even the Mistress of the humans hadn't used the one window to cool the freshly baked desserts she would often save up to make during this time of the year. Marionette looked up and over her shoulder, realizing too late that she had completely ignored, if temporarily forgotten, the other Augment. Her ears drooped as she lowered her head, casting her blue and brown gaze to the building.

[break][break]

"Sorry, John."

[break][break]

The Watcher's voice came from within the building. She had been unaware of just where the robot had moved to, only keeping enough focus to keep the robot working properly without dedicating too much time to controlling where the Watcher roamed. The small capsule of metal appeared in the doorway. The rotting plank of wood that had been used as a door prior seemed to have been knocked off of its hinges, either due to carelessness or perhaps something else. Anything to report? She cast one last apologetic look towards the sighthound before returning her focus to the Watcher.

[break][break]

The robot quickly turned its body towards the interior of the building. "The building holds many comparisons to the one in mistress's memory; however, it is apparent that no humans, Wastelander or otherwise, have used this place in months." She seemed to wilt at this information. She should be happy; she would not have to explain her situation to her father. She would not have to appear like a ghost before her master. She could continue on as she was. Yet, there was still a heavy pit that formed in her stomach as worries and doubts clouded her mind. What if that mutant returned? What if father died? What if it's still around?

[break][break]

"There are signs of struggle, but it could just be broken boards, shattered pots, and stains from neglect. Further investigation is required." The Watcher continued on as if explaining what it saw would help ease the collie's stormy thoughts. She shrunk back, making herself small once more as she listened. What else could she do? Run from an empty house?

[break][break]

She should have never sought out her old home.

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[nospaces]

[attr="class","johntitle"]John

written in pain, written in awe by a puzzled man who questioned what we were here for

Asking John to pay attention to his surroundings a little bit more ended up with him taking in everything with his enhanced eye. All it gave him was paranoia. That small movement of a scrap of curtain caused him to see monsters. He saw the abandoned state of the building long before Marionette ran into her old home. Scraps of wood on the floor. The broken down door. The lurcher had jumped to the conclusion that there was danger. From a far distance, he saw that apologetic glance that she gave him and it renewed his need to make it to her. He forged his path through the snow, coming into the building long after Marionette and her Watcher had taken in the site, and she started to process what might have happened to her.
[break][break]
Meanwhile, John's mental state switched into his work mode. He wanted to protect Marionette because she had given him a moment of comfort. Last time, an Esper helped him find calm through the use of her powers. With Marionette, he found his calm without a dog changing the way his brain processed things. She interested him, was his best chance at normalcy. And he only wanted to feel like interaction wasn't a dire struggle as it had been for him.
[break][break]
He finally stepped into the building, the old wood creaking under his weight. He moved carefully, not wanting to break anything. He watched his step, carefully finding the most stable places to stand on. Despite sprinting through the deep snow, John was not winded at all. His heart and lungs themselves had been enhanced themselves, a process which probably should have killed him, but left him with incredible endurance. His cybernetic eye was working in overdrive. He took in every single sight and the information stream fed into his brain with all of its chaos. He normally used his eye to focus on something in particular. Pay attention... He must be doing it wrong because now all he had was a roaring head-ache and an information feed he could barely make heads or tails of. But then, he noticed the sadness and disappointment apparent in Marionette. And he could focus.
[break][break]
What could he do here? The only thing he knew how to do was kill and destroy. He knew he wanted to comfort her and shuffled awkwardly in the remains of the dilapidated building. He panted, not in exertion, but in anxiety. His mother had always cared for him. He didn't think it was appropriate to lay his muzzle on her in the way his mother would have. And instead, he softened his expression in honest empathy towards her. He, too, lost his entire family to a monster. Though, in his case, the monster was himself. A murderous creature incapable of healing others, he quietly blamed himself.
[break][break]
"I'm-I'm s-sorry," he said, sincerity present in his voice. He looked down at the floor, aware of the Watcher and of Marionette and of every single thing in around them in this room thanks to his eye. It looked like there was an attack in here. John didn't believe that there were any survivors. He saw bloodstains on the wall, but perhaps, best case scenario, it was the attacker's blood rather than Marionette's family's. He didn't know what to do.
[break][break]
He suggested the only thing he knew how: "I can kill whatever it was that was in here." His voice was clear. It was the one thing he knew how to do. "Track it down and destroy it." John cracked a small smile at the thought of being able to kill on Marionette's behalf. The flash of metal in his smile made the dog that was usually a quivering, stuttering wreck of a dog appear dangerous. After all, he had been raised as a weapon and was most comfortable in that role.
[break][break]
Marionette

Pattern (cc) Evan Eckard @ DinPattern.com | table coding by Quirky Tea

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