reconstruction | ETRAYA INBOX.

Ok

[ the farm has become fair game for the children, but there are still some spots that are just willa's domain: her bedroom in the farmhouse, the garden, and a little shed where the sound of the mandolin is coming from. the shed is one of those cute ones with windows and shutters like a small duplicate of the farm house, looking just as gently dilapidated since they came into the house second hand. the open door reveals what looks to be a summer outdoor couch set up shoved against the back wall, willa perched on one corner, an all-weather rug on the floor, a small table that holds an electric kettle next to a steaming tea cup. a cute little goat with a pink ribbon around her neck is tied up to a nearby gate, laid on the grass and grazing in the most lazy fashion. ]

[he's as punctual as he is specific, arriving in 8 minutes on the dot. he's been to the farm a handful of times, usually to pass time and watch the animals. he's found that he likes watching animals.

he says hello to the goat before coming inside.

the door is open, but he still knocks on it to alert Willa of his presence. he has no need for disguise, but his wardrobe is still prim and proper. a white button up with a tie, suit pants and his usual shoes. his jacket, which is his first identifier as an android, is left in his apartment. he hasn't seen a place looking so home-like as Willa's does now. he scans the area, scans her when he sees her.]

Hello, Willa. It's nice to see you again.

[he briefly looks down to the kettle to examine its properties before taking a few steps to sit himself on the couch. a little too straight, a little to perfect.]

Is that your goat outside?

[ she stops playing when he knocks, looking up. there isn't a clock in here and she doesn't wear a watch but she has definite suspicions that he is here exactly eight minutes after he said he would do just that. ]

Her name is Mena.

[ her mouth slants up in a half smile because it's a funny name within the broader context; it was so emmet could call willa and the goat at the same time: willamina. ]

Don't get too close, she will eat your tie.

[at the stop of her playing, his head tilts and he looks at her pointedly - like he doesn't understand why she's stopped. to converse, obviously, but it seems (feels) less important. he could track the notes, each string pluck and its vibrations. what he caught of the melody plays over again in his head.]

Mena's a nice name.

[and he doesn't care if she eats his tie. a bit more relaxed, he leans a little more into the couch and shifts to face her more, one leg crossing over the other.]

I liked what you were playing. I wouldn't say that you're bad at it. Maybe out of practice.

[great job, man.]

Decades out of practice, [ she agrees with a soft huff of laughter. maybe centuries, she isn't quite sure.

she plucks at the strings again, more hesitant than before now that she has an audience, but with the same sort of familiarity. it's not these muscles, not anymore, but maybe the muscle memory is burned into some part of her mind. ]

You don't play anything? I've heard music and math are complementary.

[a few rapid blinks as he process that. to him, she looks no older than 25, if that. he scans her her again, checks blood pressure, temperature, heart rate - all to see if she's lying. but her tone betrays that. she's relaxed. so he asks,]

Decades?

[his lips quirk up, but he shakes his head.]

I wasn't designed to, but I could play anything if you gave me a sheet of music.

Decades, [ she repeats, with absolutely zero further information to illuminate this ridiculous statement. ]

[he's not satisfied with her answer and it shows. the way he shifts in his seat, how he brushes off a piece of fluff that stuck to his pants leg, how his brows twitch and eyes narrow. he's searching her for something, anything. humans are fickle - human emotions are fickle. he doesn't know if she's not saying because she knows it bothers him not to know or because she doesn't feel like it.]

You're human by design but not in the way that I'm familiar with. [but that's all he's going to say about it, because he was enjoying her play.] Could you keep playing?

Correct.

[ she starts playing again, also deciding if she doesn't want to explain because it's cute how fidgety he's become or because it's simply tiresome to go through it. it's her own fault, being open about it because this place is not her home where she must keep it secret or at least very hush hush. every time she says something completely out of pocket she has to explain.

she exhales a soft sigh and decides it's unkind to bother him. she'll keep playing though since he seems to really like it. ]

I am in a cycle of reincarnation so I've lived many lifetimes. I think I learnt to play over a century ago, but I can't really remember.

[he doesn't get to listen to music. even here, it's not something he goes out of his way to do, but he hadn't been lying when he told Hank he'd like to start listening to music. he just never had the chance. or maybe he'd been saying that because it was (is) part of his programming to try and relate to people as much as possible.

he'd like to think he's listening because he wants to now, though. actually wants.

until she says something about reincarnation and his attention hones in on strictly that. she said centuries-]

Reincarnation...[he repeats it back to her as he pulls any and all data he knows about it from his memory] do you remember every life that you've lived?

I do. I think.

[ she will keep playing until he asks her to stop this time, but she can play and talk at the same time. it's not like violin. and connor's attention is intense, maybe she wants something to look at instead of his pretty brown eyes.

one shoulder lifts in a shrug. ]

Sometimes the details escape me and if I have forgotten any lives then... I don't remember. I don't think human minds are meant to keep so many memories, especially not with clarity.

No, they're not.

[androids are different in that sense. every memory is either stored or marked as unimportant and filed for deletion. even androids that have been destroyed can have their memory restored if needed. though, some information can get corrupted or lost in the process.]

You know, you're improving as you play. Even if you don't have what one would consider typical muscle memory, I can tell you used to have it. I'm not exactly qualified to judge, though. I'm glad you agreed to play for me. [his mind is working two topics at once-] I'd like to hear more about your other lives sometime, too.

Just ask.

[ another shrug. she doesn't know how to begin to talk about her many lives, but she's always been the type to answer whatever is asked of her. her sister knows more than anyone should, but thea asked and willa answered. ]

[those are dangerous words to give, Willa. not many (zero) people want to give Connor free reign of what to ask and when to ask it. he likes to start by asking if it's okay, but now it's a blanket free for all. there's a flicker of excitement in his expression. he uncrosses his legs, leans forward and interlaces his fingers. he appears all business, but he has this puppy-dog look about him, a gentle curiosity.]

You said centuries. What's the first year that you remember living in?

[ oof, he could have started with an easier question.

willa closes her eyes, mouth twisting as she tries to remember back as far as she can. tragically, time keeping has historically been... stupid. especially in christian countries. the ecclesiastical calendars couldn't even agree on when the year of creation was.

please hold, she's doing math. ]

12... something? Maybe 1235?

[ no, she doesn't fucking know. that's a year she remembers. ]

[Willa's doing math while Connor is thinking about how her mind and soul, two separate things that shouldn't continue to exist past her original body, simply do. the information he does have on reincarnation isn't solid, it's a belief held by most Indian religions, and it isn't something he was designed to truly understand. he only knows of it, very loosely.

said softly, almost to himself:]

That's nearly a millennium. [then more directed at her,] Is reincarnation normal for people in your universe?

[ she's old as balls, baby. ]

Not as far as I know.

[ it's a little apologetic because she has a feeling she isn't going to be able to answer all of his questions. willa is tragically, deplorably, incurious. accelerator was just judging her for not being curious about her own power. ]

I mean, there's the Dalai Lama, but I don't know if that is true reincarnation or it is only their believe held so firm. But I can't say for sure they aren't actually reincarnations of Avalokiteśvara 'cause I've never met him.

[he's baffled by her lackadaisical outlook. he's so used to knowing and wanting to learn more in order to evolve. he can't imagine settling. is it possible she's lived so much that she stopped caring?

then again, he's not a human. he has the capacity to recall nearly any memory -- it's all stored. human brains are more complicated. he steers the conversation in another direction, thumb tapping over the other. reincarnation is another form of immortality. being destined to live over and over again, he wonders,]

Are you happy?

No.

[ she hums a sharp noise. ]

I might seem ungrateful because I have a chance to live so many lives. Maybe the hardship makes it more meaningful. But I'm exhausted.

[ and she is alone.

she's always had sylvie, she's always had emmet, even though they had each other. fabian, polina, even theo when he hasn't fucked off to timbuktu — one time literally. she's been alone now for months and months and it's grown tiresome. she feels defeated.

and still she drums up a smile as she exhales heavily. ]

It's— it's hard to let people care about you when you know you're going to leave them before they're ready. It's become lonely.

I don't think it's ungrateful.

[a quick and honest response, leaving him surprised at himself. he sympathizes, even empathizes with her. he imagines himself in her shoes. androids are built to last for hundreds of years, maybe more, only needing a change in their battery after all that time. they're made to survive past everyone else. if Connor shut down for any reason, he's positive he would wake in another body. pre-deviancy, that wouldn't bother him.

now it does. he doesn't know what it would feel like to have to watch people die, or have people he's made connections with lose him.]

Do you feel lonely here?

Yes. I think that's why I let the children roam free around here.

[ she pauses playing for a moment, pats the couch closer to her. ]

Come here.

[he wants to ask why, but there's some partial obedience programming still lingering in his circuits. his eyes flick from the instrument to the couch to Willa, then he's moving next to her, nearly shoulder to shoulder.

he hasn't been close to someone since arriving in Etraya. well, not counting when he had his battery drained by nanomachines and had to be lugged around by the kids. that was involuntary. this is different - the whole situation feels different. intimate. he isn't sure what she wants, so he waits, gaze heavy on her face, on her eyes, analyzing everything. the shape of her jaw, her lashes, any freckle or blemish to commit to memory.]

[ his undivided attention is intense and despite her many, many lives, willa feels heat rise in her cheeks. she can't bear the indignity of blushing and so can't keep holding his unwavering gaze.

she reaches over to take his hand, sliding the mandolin into his lap at the same time before she presses the hand she is hold to the strings. she releases that hand, catches the other, holding it up to the neck and curling his hand around it. ]

Your turn.

[ carefully, she folds his fingers into the correct position on the neck, his hand covered her with own delicate fingers. ]

[even if she's unable to maintain eye contact, he still notes her rise in body temperature. it makes him wonder if he's done something to embarrass her and he opens his mouth to ask, but she's quick to divert his attention.

she'll notice his skin is as soft as any other human who hasn't worked a day in their life. no calluses, only perfection. he's warm - thirium regulating his temperature to mimic that of a human's, too.

he follows her lead with little to no resistance, looking down at her fingers over his. he knows Markus played the piano at home for Carl, but hadn't connected with other androids who decided to pick up playing an instrument. he plucks at each string to test the notes, then looks at her once more. he doesn't need her assistance, but for some reason, he doesn't want to lose the connection between them yet.]

I memorized what you were playing. Is that what you'd like me to do?

[given how she's positioned his fingers, it's what he's guessing. he hasn't ever been given creative direction in this way before.]

[ she bleats a soft laugh, letting her fingers brush over his knuckles like she is going to release him but she doesn't.

she likes the company of the kids, hearing their voices and laughter and the occasional "hi willa" as they pass through, but she hasn't had the company of an adult in a while. she's realizing now that she probably needs it more than she was willing to admit before.

she looks up, laugh still on the curve of her lips. ]

Yeah. Yeah, of course you memorized it.

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