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Beiden?

[ there's a spark of curiosity, a genuine question in her eyes. she crosses her arms - a gesture that should be all too familiar to elster by now - and shifts between her tapered feet. ]

Ah- yes. That's right. Though not exactly like Elster, obviously. We're different makes, different models. Different bases.

[ she doesn't know anna well - doesn't know her warning signs like this venus might have. but she does know how to hear the world around her. and right now, the woman in front of her is... distant. her song is muted. hidden from the world? no, from her.

she doesn't trust her, does she? ]

...I don't know much about her. [ she admits it openly. ] Venus. We're not... Replikas aren't intended to retain memories from their imprints. Standard procedure is to decommission immediately upon evidence of persona degradation.

[ she doesn't want to be decommissioned. she doesn't want to join the rest of s-23 sierpinski, deep in a hole within a hole within a hole. within a blob of flesh. ]

Would it be alright if I asked a few questions?

From their imprints.

[she keeps her arms crossed over her chest and recognizes mannerisms, and she's not sure if this is a sign of a shed or a sign of whatever an imprint is. it doesn't make her happy either way. she had recovered from the worst shed of her fucking life, so to see venus-or-vesper still like this is a lot.]

Ask what you need. But if it turns out that Venus is hurt at the end of this, it's your ass, and you're gonna wish I were nice enough to decommission you. I am not in the mood to have more people I care about taken from me.

Right. You know. The Gestalt we're based off.

[ she's able to get a lot out of that little action alone. first, there's a flare of recognition in anna's signal - lending credence to the idea that this venus might actually be the source of her imprint. for another, whoever this venus was, anna cared deeply about her.

third: anna amarande is kind of incredibly rude? the look that crosses vesper's face only flashes for a moment, but it is another incredibly familiar one. ]

Combat model. Got it. [ she's not in the mood to be threatened either, anna, thank you very much. ] Do you know her last name or nationality? World of origin should suffice.

[fantastic questions, both of them. and ones that may just betray how much she really knows about venus in the end. but some of it, she thinks, can't reasonably be her fault. k doesn't have a last name yet either.]

The Sol system, on the Earth that's the third planet from the sun, in the United States of America, somewhere in the midwest. [if there's one thing she's learned, it's that specificity is never going to be a bad thing when she can provide it.] Her name is Venus, and if she has a last name she never told me. Is that really going to be enough to confirm if it's her or not? Hell, she wasn't even the first Venus I'd ever met.

Huh. A lot of others have mentioned Earth, too. Do you think it's the same Earth? Or just the word for "ground?"

[ "is that really enough to confirm if it's her or not?"

ah. vesper makes eye contact with anna, having the good graces to look at least a little apologetic. ]

...I didn't really ask to confirm anything. If I needed to, I could figure that out right now? At least to a reasonable degree of certainty. I just... I don't know. I want to know more about her.

[ talking has always felt odd to her - away from home, away from the hive. it's much easier to sing in unison, after all. ]

Is Venus a common name where you're from?

[ah. well. that gets anna to lift her head along with the corners of her mouth. it's not a smile, but it's not miserable, either. it's not hostile. she feels the bomb inside her let up, and when she speaks again her tone is at least a little more understanding.]

You should've opened with that, Vesper. Because Venus is... light. She's the brightest light I've ever seen, but not like staring into the sun. She's someone leaving a light on at home when you know it'll be ages until you get the chance to see it in person. She's one of the kindest people I've ever met, and I... [sigh.]

[she stops. she can't bring herself to get poetic about it. it's still complicated, even with what she'd already said. the three of them trying to make room for each other in their lives, the way it struggles against anna's own insecurities about whether she's enough on her own and whether she can even give one person what they need. and the blurring snakeskin reality that put them at odds with each other and made it even harder to keep everything straight.]

And I feel stupid that I was supposed to be here to be someone she can rely on and I can't even get her to stay in the same body long enough for it to matter. So like. I don't know if that helps at all. I don't know if it's enough to learn more about who she was. I feel like I barely got the chance to learn.

[ she watches anna's response with curious eyes, that same tilt to her head as ever. light? she is light? if anna were a kolibri, perhaps vesper would understand that turn of phrase - but then, if anna were a kolibri they wouldn't have to rely on flawed words like these in the first place. ]

...I don't really get it. [ she can admit it, at least. it sounds like some of the old poetry that was still in the library - early praise of the nation, description of the revolutionary's grand beauty. is it love? envy? respect? she shifts from tapered foot to tapered foot, looking curiously up at anna. ] Why would you leave the light on if nobody would be there to see it?

[ it's a stupid question to get seized up on. but then, ~~venus~~ ~~vesper~~ kolibri models of her generation have always been like that. ]

[anna shakes her head, and there's the hint of a smile on her face as she does it.]

It's the idea of knowing that someone is still there waiting for you when you get back to whatever you call home. It's a stupid little metaphor, don't get me wrong, but... I don't know. It's what I've got.

[she thinks on the handful of days before apollonia where she had woken up enveloped in venus. she tries not to let it hurt her heart too much.]

Anyway, it probably isn't the same Earth, but maybe it is. I don't know. Alternate universes are a thing here, too, just like they were back home. [for a couple months, at least.] I'm no cosmologist. I just live here.

[ metaphor flies over her, making itself known while illuminating nothing. vesper sighs, only a tiny bit of frustration showing in her inability to understand. ]

That's fine. It's appreciated either way.

[ anna continues to speak, and this time vesper doesn't bother to listen fully. instead, she allows herself to hear the song of the world around her - hundreds of voices singing in unison, and ahead of her an android with two. (two voices? how interesting! is she a kolibri like vesper? some other bioresonant unit?) she listens in closely, and slowly bits and pieces of this gestalt named venus begin to trickle in.

a boyish girl in a dress crying with cracks showing through her arm-
chained to a wall, snow-in-summer-in-kainè struggling forward while a girlish boy struggled to not stare-
a warmth like pure light, wrapped around and holding her close-

staring up at anna, waiting for the tobacco in her mouth to be lit. a cigarette kiss before she knew the name.

vesper pulls away, a great and sad nostalgia she can't quite place unfolding within her. ]

Did she love you?

[now, if the pronouns were switched in that question, she would have an easier time answering it. it would not be an easy time, and she would still not know what answer to give, but it would be slightly less complicated to actually come to a conclusion on whether she loved venus. to be asked if venus loved her is something—]

How the hell am I supposed to know the answer to that? [it's not anger that splits her lips this time, but she's looking away as though she's a caged animal ignoring her keeper. there's pressure in her head that's different from a headache in a way that she doesn't know how to describe. it must be from apollonia. she doesn't know what else to ascribe it to.]

She wanted to be in a triad thing with me and my girlfriend, so I guess maybe, yes? I don't know. I can't ever tell until it hits me in the back of the head like a dodgeball. [joke about it. that's all she can do.] She didn't hate me. She cared about us. We cared about her.

Sorry. I guess it was a stupid question.

[ it's not a stupid question. it's important - it's vital. but vesper can learn almost as much from anna's body language as she can from her song: the way she stirs and looks away, the way she answers honestly-but-not-entirely after a moment, the way it turns to we.

for a moment, vesper wonders what it would feel like to wrap around anna. like a comforting blanket. like a gentle warmth. a reminder that you aren't alone, that someone wanted to stay, someone wanted to wake up next you. gently, she adjusts her own frequencies; she broadcasts out, trying to catch that exact part of anna's song. the gentle echo of being woken up with warmth and light and feathers. the soft smile from a being that has no mouth. something that should terrify you, and yet it only brings joy instead.

behind anna, within her house, the radio slowly activates. ]

...that sounds really lovely. [ gentle. like an admission. ]

[it starts as a tingling that anna can't place, but it feels familiar. it feels warm and comforting and she closes her eye and tilts her head back against the exterior wall of the house that she's leaning against. her expression evens out, and she doesn't look serene, exactly, but she is trying to figure something out with the way it feels. it's hard to come up with the words, so she just agrees.]

It was, yeah. While it lasted. [there is only regret in her words—no bitterness, no anger, and certainly not towards vesper.] Until it changed, and the three of us became different people, and... and now we're here. [she opens her eye and looks up towards the sky, hoping that moon presence can maybe give her an answer this time. there's never a response, not in any way that she can make sense of.]

We all found each other, and then this place tore us apart. ...Maybe that's dramatic. I don't know. I just know that I was getting used to the idea of adding Venus to our relationship, and now... [and now she either has to get by without her or open her heart and mind to someone else.]

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