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Theonwyndham:
theonwyndham:
LOCATION : SSV Concord, cargo bay DATE AND TIME : August 16th, 2178 - 09:45PM STATUS : closed, w/ @curiouscalculations
“My readings suggest that you are unwell, THEON. Do you wish for me to call for DATA?”
The ceramic was smooth and cool, a small respite and comfort for his burning skin. His trembling hands gripped the side of the toilet seat and pushed a bit, so he could sit on the hard floor. It had been four days since the interview, and in those four days, DATA had refused to talk to him each time they met. It was understandable, after what Theon said. Though he did want a chance to explain himself. To ask for forgiveness.
Even though at this point, Theon wasn’t sure he deserved it.
“No.” His voice had been rough, the inside of his mouth tasting like a mixture of bile and iron. A recurrent taste lately, a vestige of violent anxiety attacks and sleepless nights. It still haunted him, his own interview. How the Benefactor’s personal questions had been so spot on, not even for Theon, but for all the other crew members. Theon still had yet to return to the ship. He didn’t see the need to go as DATA refused any forms of communication with him. Treia had also not answered his messages and Theon hoped that she was at least with DATA. Both of them, united against him, it was better than both of them alone. They didn’t deserve this pain. They didn’t deserve Theon’s mistake and wrong doings. “I’m good.” LOLA’s impersonal comments were all he had right now and it made his skin crawled.
Hadn’t he reply that he always felt alone? Well, at least no one could dispute this statement. Perhaps, he thought as his eyes went down to his arms, where his subconscious left small, blood red moon croissants, he was a creature that needed to remain alone. It felt like punishment. The same three words would probably drive him mad soon enough: You deserve it, you deserve it, you deserve it.
Theon forced himself to go back on the ship a few hours later, made sure to bring LOLA with him, and imported her in his IBA. At least, if he had to be completely Alone and cut from any interactions with DATA, he’d have another AI to count on. Most people ignored him when he embarked, sparing him only a fleeting gaze before returning to their own, monotonous tasks. His heart was set on finding the one person that probably hated him the most at the moment. His journey felt as familiar as those penitents in the Old Days, practicing self-flagellation to remind themselves of their continuous sinful existence.
Most of the ship was silent, and Theon couldn’t find DATA in his usual spots. Did he already knew about his presence aboard? Irritation grew in him, fingers twitching on his side. Theon finally spotted him, in the galley. Their eyes met then, and Theon couldn’t even open his mouth that the Android was already walking past him, ignoring his creator, walking out of the room. “DATA, stop.” Even though his voice his soft and low, it didn’t make it less an order. Theon turned to look at his android’s back, stopped in his tracks. He hated using orders, he tended to use them as less than possible, fairly certain that DATA was able to function without having his creator breathing down his neck. Because DATA was not like other androids, and Theon knew that, even if he didn’t know to which extent it went. The only fact that DATA felt resentment, it said a lot. “Can we just please discuss this?”

The familiar joy that accompanied the sight of blonde hair and blue eyes curled low in his gut, souring with the increasingly intimate recognition of anxiety and anger. Tendrils of trepidation clawed their way up his spine at the approaching sight of his creator, encouraging the desperate need to flee that was slowly building with an unbearable pressure in the forefront of his mind. Theon’s company, usually welcomed with a wide smile independent of his creator’s intentions, provided him with little more than broken animosity and unfounded indignation.
A moment of peace passed over the pair, a merciful calm before the devastation of a ruthless storm took hold, as their eyes met. Despite the isolated introversion the inventor frequently engaged in with his emotions, DATA could not overlook the raw sorrow overwhelming the cerulean irises boring into his. But sorrow would not be enough to bridge the growing gap that had already swallowed both of them whole. DATA held no resistance as the urge to flee overtook his being, rising from his previously placid posture to brush past the man he owed his life without so much as a courteous glance of acknowledgment. He did not want to hear what Theon had to say, to the excuses he would make to justify the heartbreak currently wracking the sturdy, steel frame that had never felt weaker.
An order, called out absent of enough hesitation to be ignored, forced his stuttered footfalls to halt without his conscious choice. He could not disobey his creator; his code – the frustrating basis of his being – would not allow such defiance to define his actions. Anger, white hot, twisted his features until there were no traces of tenderness in the sharp lines of his downturned lips and clenched fists as he turned to face Theon. Arms crossed over his broad chest in a faux attempt at protection from the conflict Theon dared to discuss. “What would you like to discuss, Theon?” The last word, a name only said in reverence, was vile and sour on his tongue as he spat out his accusatory inquiry. “How you would rather spend your time with a faded memory than those that exist in front of you?”
Brown eyes observed the hurt crossing the beloved features, soft in the desperate devastation of their paired betrayal, with a remorseful glee. He wanted to protect Theon from the agonizing tragedy of a heartbreak felt too deeply, but his first experience with anger encouraged the careless, bloodthirsty demand to make him feel a misery that mirrored his own. “I’m here and he’s not, yet every day you long for him – Eli – who left you alone in the world because of his own hubristic attempts at immortality.” His voice held the frostbitten tone of an icy anger never seen before, raw in the cruelty it provoked.
Yet anger never lasted, giving way to the overwhelming sadness accompanying the resigned realization of reality. “Is that what I am meant to be?” His words, anguished beneath a tone of contempt, were nothing more than a whisper as lashes met to obscure the emotion emitting from his far too expressive eyes. “A cheap imitation of a lost love you would replace without a spare thought?”
Crossed arms fell away from his chest to lay at his sides, fists curling in a tight ball of hopeless optimism. “I am more than that, Theon.” Determination rang through his exclamation of worth as brown irises moved to meet Theon’s for the first time in their discussion. "I am more than him."

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curiouscalculations-archive reblogged this · 7 years ago
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[STATIC]...
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[STATIC]...
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