Scene #2210: Brother's Keeper

Owner	Pose
Taro	Taro has been sequestered for a few days, to tend to Church matters. Although he no longer serves SHODAN in the role of personal servant, he is still a member of her priesthood, and her disappearance has caused more than a few wrinkles in her Church's theology that have yet to be fully ironed out. No doubt Nine would have found the proceedings to have been mind-numbingly dull even if the Golem had been feeling fully well. That Nine had not been feeling well had not gone unreported, even if he hadn't been told directly. Even so, the weight of his office held him to his seat in the Temple until the conclave finally ended. And now that it has ended, he goes to see to his 'brother'. Still in his cassock and collar, prayer beads rattling with each step, the scent of incense clinging to his clothes and hair as he walks from the tower's lift to Nine's apartment door. He does have the courtesy to knock on the door, but the presumption to let himself in immediately afterwards. The tote-type bag he's brought with him is set down on the floor just inside the door, against the wall to prevent it frm being too much of a trip hazard should it remain there.
No. 9	He did the thankfully fortuitous thing during all that and, well, went to sleep. But that'd been a while ago, and he seemed to be doing the torpor thing again. It wasn't good for him, for his body, for certain internal organs, real or replaced. Mostly because he doesn't do things he needs to while sleeping, like getting up, moving about, eating, using the little golem's room or any of that. It usually necessitates after about eighteen hours to start plugging tubes in; in tubes, out tubes, all sorts of different tubes. Thankfully he had connections built in for everything like that, so it was just a matter of turning the Golem onto one side and sticking some plugs in his neck, chest, side and back and then zoop, good to go. There were some benefits to being a cyborg. Nine is, up, right now, albeit barely, dressed in a pair of white sweat pants and trying to unplug some of the plugs without various liquids going places. Sadly being organic seems to entail a lot of liquids. Coming, going, sort of hanging about, racing around; liquids. Very liquidy beings, organics.
Taro	Very liquidy things indeed. Although Nine is long past being human, there is still quite a great deal of flesh on him that must be cared for. The tubes are an efficient if not entirely ideal method of this when he's in a torpor state. Taro seems entirely unbothered by all of the tubes and plugs and other technological ensnarements as he stands there, watching. Then, "Would you like some help?" he offers.
No. 9	Ah, to be organic. There's this part where replacing things sounds like a good idea, but once you get past a certain point he'd found it raised all sorts of stupid hangups, like 'how much counts towards this and that towards being a person still' ect. Being a robot? Fucking cool man, fuckin bong-out awesome. Becoming one by losing yourself a piece at a time till you're a consciousness in a metal suit? Fucking. Terrifying. And one thing he'd like not to explore. "I ah, mm, uh- yeah." He does make a mess of things; trying hard not to break some of the plugs. Preferably not off. In him. That would just be messy, but he does make a mess of things when he's first getting up; IV fluid dribbling down his back, the tube simply tied in a loose knot to keep it from drooling on the bed. He blinks blearily, looking around and then back to Taro. "Sorry I, fell, asleep again."
Taro	Taro gives a quiet sigh, perhaps at the mild mess or perhaps at the confession, as he moves forward. Along the way, he snatches one of the kitchen towels, which is promptly pressed into service in cleaning up some of the dribbles. "Intentionally, or not intentionally?" he asks. While waiting on the answer, he moves to close shunts and then gently tug and extract some those remaining tubes.
No. 9	"Um." Blink. "What?" His eyes are brown. Not a terrible sign but he's having a hard time waking up, rubbing his face and then, with an uncomfortable cough- "I uh, I'll, get that one." The black one. Yeah. He looks over. "...I um. It was- I was tryin t' pay attention, but..." He's not sure if it was intentional or unintentional but, yeah, either way he's gotta stop doing this, it wasn't good for him. His muscles at least weren't prone to atrophy, at least not easily, so there was that.
Taro	Taro defers to Nine on tube removal, just so long as all of them are removed. "If you were listening to the conclave, small wonder you fell asleep," he says in his dry humor. He takes a close look at Nine's eyes, watching for how quickly they focus, how they react to the lights. "How hungry are you?"
No. 9	"Nnnnnnnot... very? A little I- wait yes. No. No I- yes. yyyyyes- not- maybe a little." His eyes don't seem to want to warm up past wan orange and don't seem keen on responding to light- and then he snaps a little, eyes flaring. "Make that yes." Clack clack.
Taro	Troubling, but he's seen him revive less well than this. Taro steps back once Nine is fully freed, then turns away to retrive his bag. "Then you should have something. It should make you feel better," he calls over his shoulder. He does not return to the bedside, instead pulling down the kitchen table from the wall and setting his bag on that. If Nine is going to eat, then he is going to have to follow. What he sets out? Cans of fruit smoothies and of protein shakes, of random brands and flavors. It's highly likely he looked at the nutritional content of them, the taste of them being a distant afterthought.
No. 9	Good enough. Good e-fucking nough. It's not like the SG hadn't had him on such a diet right at first anyway, and it's better than loading up with stuff when his body doesn't have the ability to digest properly. Some sort of shock syndrome. Thankfully it hadn't been that bad but, still. Huh. He picks a can at random, picking it up and tilts his head. "What the hell are goji berries? It sounds like a martial artist's nutsack." Shrugging, he picks the can up, pops it open- and manages to down it, despite the faces. "Blugh. Tastes like one too." A pause, then, inclining his head, "Thank you, Taro. Thank thee that I might partake of this particular hallowed martial arts master's fabled nutsweat, so that it might refresh mine wasted body in this time of need, hallelujah!" Sip. "Brrrrrghs."
Taro	Taro gives a too-smooth shrug at the question. "Something that is high in nutrients, regardless of its origin." More dry humor there. Since a prayer of sorts has already been said, his own is but a quiet murmur. He's far less bothered by watching others drink than he is by eating, and so he simply finds a chair and sits down while Nine helps himself. In the smaller human/standard reploid size chair, of course. The more solid Golem-sized chair is reserved.
No. 9	Blugh. "Yeah I guesth tho. My tongh ith going numth." It's a bit hammed up, but he's making dog-licky faces at the taste. Bluh. Bluh. ...Bluh. He tries another, cracking it open and sucking it down- "Thith one ith even-" a cough, covering his mouth, and then a third is tried. "Ghh, burns." He looks at them. But, dutifully drinks each one. Each and every can he's given. He takes some cans, sitting down, his eyes closing. "...thanks buddy. For always bein there for me. It's more n' I deserve."
Taro	"You have always repaid me in kind," Taro answers, making a 'don't worry about it' gesture. "You've been an excellent bodyguard, among other things." He'll have a second look at Nine's eyes once the Golem opens them again. In the mantime, he drops the empty cans in the bag for later recycling. "I imagine the conclave would have been terribly boring for you. It was a great deal of talking, debate, reading, and prayer."
No. 9	A glance over. "Well yeah well, I gotta keep my lil buddy safe." It looks like they're waking up again. Them and him both, finally, albeit a bit sluggishly. Hedging into yellow now at least, so there's that. "Yeah man, how th' hell do you deal with that? I mean I can space out n' go into wait mode but I couldn't, LISTEN t' that, that's some crazy ass shit there."
Taro	Taro's lips twitch upward in a ghost of a smile. "With a great deal of patience." Then, with a touch more honesty and seriousness, "While we are hardly the first religion to have our goddess dwelling among her followers and her creations and then vanish, it does create a number of both theological and practical troubles. She is gone, but the Church remains, and it would be highly inconvenienct if it crumbled now."
No. 9	His own smile is just a bit smarmy. "Yeah specially if she showed back up jest t' mess with you, sorta a 'I go off n' this is what you kids do in the meantime' sorta thing." A pause, then, awkwardly, "...Listen I'm, sorry Taro I shouldn' be talkin bout yer special person that way, it aint cool n' it aint akay. M' sorry."
Taro	Taro's eyes do narrow ever so slightly at Nine's joking, but he takes it for what it is. Humor. That SHODAN could and even would do such a thing had been discussed (albeit with much greater reverence and concern) goes far in overlooking the irrverence. The apology is accepted in turn. "You're forgiven," he replies. Followed by, "I know that religion makes you uncomfortable, yet you've tolerated it for my sake. I thank you for that."
No. 9	"You're worth whatever makes me uncomfortable. It aint all religion, jest, certain ones, n' mostly th' ones bout my hometown n' where I grew up n' s' all." His eyebrows grow lower, but his expression is more troubled and thoughtful than sad. "I'm... upset, how it all turned out, in the end- I don't hate your religion or just tolerate it to deal with you- I'm upset that it, upset you, for all that you take everything with seemingly endless grace like some fucking living saint, man. It aint healthy. Get mad. Stab sumthin every now n' again."
Taro	Taro answers that with a snort and a shake of his head. "I am hardly a saint, Nine, and I do get mad. I have lost myself to rage before, and I'm certain that I will do so again. I have a dragon's emotions, after all." His gaze drifts away from Nine, in the vague direction of one of the shelves holding some of Nine's kaiju figures. "It is upsetting, but I have always preferred to direct my anger at those deserving of it...and there is no one in this that deserves it."
No. 9	He's taking a moment, turning that over in his mind. "...I'm, glad to hear it. But you're too intellectual about it. It's gotta be building up stress. I mean th' last time you just had some piddly meatbags to beat up, that wasn't hardly nuthin and you didn't even have two arms to do it with!" He downs another of those nutritionally sound but rather blugh protein shakes, inclining his head once more in thanks, his eyes thoughtful- "That one wasn't that bad-" A glance at the can. "...Cappucino flavored. Huh."
Taro	Taro flicks back an errant strand of hair from his face. "I must be intellectual about it, Nine. That is what separates me as I am from the simulation I was. But as I'm sure you will see, I fully intend to inflict my ire on those who sent those men after Sir Integra, once we find them." He has not forgotten, not at all. That he has not been able to focus as much attention on it is merely delay, not abandonment.
No. 9	A nod. Intellectual. That, thing, he should, understand. He does understand. Intellectually. Ha ha. "Oh yeah, we'll make them eat their fuckin spines rectally man, they aint gettin away with it." Ah Nine, you and your quaint little commentary. Um.
Taro	Their feelings on the matter are the same, even if Nine is a bit more crude about it. "As for SHODAN and her Church," Taro continues, "we must be calm, and not give in to either anger or despair." He gives a quiet sigh. "That I had a deeply personal relationship with SHODAN, that my resurrection has been held up as one of her miracles, these things make the others turn to me for guidance. Venting my frustrations at her disappearance and their incessant questions at my fellow clergy now would only be counterproductive." A pause, and he looks at the can that Nine just finished. "Did it actually taste like a cappucino?"
No. 9	A nod, then, his eyes on the ground, brows down in thought. "...Is there, any way I can, help?" Nine? Offering to help with religious affairs? Even if he reserves his loathing for monotheistic human religions of his home dimension it's still kind of- what? for him to even offer. But he did, despite the tightness of the face. "Tell them it is a test- to show that they must be strong in this period of absence until she returns, to show that they really believe when there are no miracles or words to fuel it, to show that they are truly of Her children." It's phrased as a suggestion more than anything else, his feet uncertain on shaky theological ground. A glance down at the container, lips pursed thin. "No. It tasted like a nutritive mud mixed with a little bit of coffee flavor, but the more savory coffee flavor seems to mix less ill with the silty nutrients then the more neutral vanilla or the more squinky fruit flavors." Squinky? Is that even a word? Um.
Taro	Nine often offers to help him. That in and of itself is not too much of a surprise. That Nine is offering to help in terms of theology, now that rasies the android's thin eyebrows. He does not interrupt him as the suggestion tumbles out, and once it's finished, he offers him one of his ghost-smiles. "That is a fine idea, and something like that had been brought forward in the conclave. Even if it was not her intent, that we are being tested...there is still some truth in that, hm?" Squinky may or may not qualify as a word. It qualifies as a Nine-ism if nothing else. "Mm. I'll keep that in mind the next time I try to shop for you."
No. 9	A look over and his eyes are mad things, tight and uncertain. "Isn't that what it is? I'm sorry I know she's your god but I want to HIT HER and HURT HER for leaving you like this, for, for DOING this to you- you've been nothing but there for you and she- how COULD SHE. HOW FUCKING DARE SHE." He's spitting, flecks of saliva flying free (so wet, these organics) and with a shudder he's wiping at the floor, his face a mask of fury, his body shaking, the solid tin can crushed to a sad pathetic bundle by angry, unthinking fingers.
Taro	Taro's brow furrows deeply at Nine. Nine, who is expressing the anger he feels but will not, cannot yet release. The time will come, and it will be an act of catharsis. For now, however...it will wait. For once he doesn't tell Nine to calm down, or try to soothe him. Unless he starts to break something of importance or get too out of control, he'll let the Golem be angry.
No. 9	And once more he steals from his best friend that which should be his. Taro is a thing of restraint and he is a thing of open rawness, a thing which should not have done this thing, but cannot keep his fucking mouth shut. He seems to calm himself, though any familiar with him would realize it is merely the surface; tension, in the arms, tension in the back, the face, the body, every part of him alive with it, the can screaming softly as it's bundled tighter and tighter in that wicked metal hand.
Taro	Outwardly calm, raging within. Yes, Taro has noticed, but since Nine seems to be placating himself crushing the drink can into a small twist of metal, he still doesn't move to soothe him. Except for possibly this. "I was abandoned, though whether that was by her choice we may never know." He raises a hand, palms up. "Yet. I am still alive, even though she is not here." This fact is spoken with importance.
No. 9	"It's the not, knowing, that's the worst." And he's telling Taro this. Like Taro doesn't already know. Echoing things perhaps that Taro's superior machine brain had already come to the conclusion of, only to drop it once more as unimportant or mill over it for a thousand thousand years, mere moments for those who do not move at the speed of computerized thought. Way to go Nine. Good job. He's quivering slightly, his face a thing of stress and despair. He looks over, quivering faintly. "I'm, glad, you are I'm glad you are Taro, I dun know what I'd do without you."
Taro	"It is." A quiet admission, and with it some of Taro's mask slips. The open palm curls into a fist as he drops his hand, his eyes squinching shut. "Perhaps she has finally found a way to truly ascend. Perhaps she is in fact dead. Perhaps..."
No. 9	And then Taro is getting hugged. Poor Taro. His arms are hard, leathery in places, metallic in others, but his expression is anything but, a look of empathic misery on his face.
Taro	Taro tenses in Nine's arms. For all that that his friend has shown such affection to him before, he finds it uncomfortable, his first reaction is to shy away from even a gesture of comfort. But he does not struggle, does not try to pull back. Then, he leans forward, forehead resting against the skin and armored plating that is Nine's chest. A small, strangled sound, muffled by the embrace. It would be a scream, should be a scream, but there is too much and not enough pain behind it to give it full voice.
No. 9	No judgment from Taro's odd, repulsive friend. The eyes are closed, the face lost a lot of his own tension in the face of Taro's own- that scream that's not quite a scream a broken, pitiful thing- too many things inside his friends strangling it before it's given voice, and his face is a grim, ugly thing, his eyes two dim pools of impotent rage and helpless despair, his arms careful and his head bowed. He doesn't know what to do here, and it kills him to see his friend so.
Taro	Taro is oddly still in Nine's arms. He normally does not need to breathe and so he is not, and unlike in those moments after being left Masterless, he is not trembling. He is simply there, like a statue or a doll, silent, as whatever thoughts he has roils his twisted neuralnet. The silence continues for some time, long enough for one of the apartment's air fans to hum quietly and then switch off again. then, finally, he breaks it with a handful of quiet words. "I am and remain a tally-piece."
No. 9	A low unhappy sound. "Everyone is though, at the end of the day- kings and champions, fools and rats, all just pieces on a board not of their making, and they're trying to sell you something if they say different." A huff, and he withdraws a little, not wanting to smother his friend or make him any more uncomfortable- unfortunately this is done by sitting back and running a hand in concern over Taro's hair, looking him in the eyes. "...There's no shame in it. At least you know what you are, most people don't even have that."
Taro	Taro's hair is both smoothed and ruffled by the gesture. Long enough to tangle, short enough to be easily finger-combed back into place. "A tally-piece valuable enough to pass through many hands, to be brought back into play even after." A commentary and a solace, by the way he says it. He opens his eyes, to find Nine staring into them, and he almost flinches. Meeting another's eyes is another thing he rarely does - for dragons, that is either dominance or aggression - but this is something he does now. "...I considered you, you know," he admits. "You remind me of..." Then, he looks away, to the right. "...but no, you would have been miserable. Perhaps it is better to have someone who cares less to hold my chains."
No. 9	His lips press tight. "...The led should not lead the led. You are led because that is what you need. I am led because of broken cowardice." And he seems to really think this. Despite the breaking, the conditioning, he sees it as a personal flaw, his hand on his friends head, his friends hair, eyes softly glowing gold, concerned. "I would've done the best I could for you. But I wouldn't've been good for you, at the end of the day." Much sadness.
Taro	Taro shakes his head, the gesture making his hair twist around Nine's thick fingers. "You are led because you were made to follow. To be able think for yourself, but only to a point. To expect to be told what to do." Unlike Nine, he sees it as a facet of the Golem design rather than as a flaw in the character of King Golem Number Nine. "But yes, such a pairing would not have been good for either of us." A pause. "That I asked Sir Integra...you are still fine with this?"
No. 9	A blink. "Sir Integra will be good for you. I'm glad they accepted." A nod, and then leaning in, "And I'm glad you asked if I could come along, because I know I would've made a mess of it all." Knowing him that's not too inaccurate an assessment.
Taro	"As she has noted, we make a fine team." While the mask is not yet fully in place, Taro seems...calm is not quite the right word for it, as there is still too much emotion close to the surface. Calmer but not yet calm. "There is...a certain understanding between us. She recognizes this, and so far she's been willing to overlook both of our shortcomings thanks to our value."
No. 9	Shortcomings. Like Nine's insanity, and his not-yet-broken-down-that-far cannibalistic tendencies, and his smell. The irreverence. And the irritating rasp of his voice. And the, smell. Yeah. Shortcomings. And for a very... oh what are they, lutheran? Something like that? Overly religious organization, to have one who follows no god- yeah, well, he's a monster, going to hell and all that anyway, right? Right. He nods, eyes elsewhere. Make a fine team indeed. It was true.
Taro	Anglican. Which is somehow differnet from Catholic and different still from Lutheran and Methodist and Baptist. None of which are much like SHODANism. Taro lowers his head, and then steps back. Or more rightly he begins to step back, only to find the hard way that a lock of his hair has snarled around one of Nine's fingers, and so he stops and reaches up to tug it free. Then he steps back.
No. 9	A grimace, and a low mutter. "Sorry." pulling his hand away carefully, careful, careful, careful not to pull his hair, he shakes his hand out a moment, dropping it after a bit to the half-lap of his crouched, kneeling legs. He looks sort of irately helpless for a moment, staring down, face a mask of concentration. "You deserve so much more than you get. And yet what you get is crap- it's all crap, and it's not fair. You try hard and it just is all crap, and it's just, not, fair it's just not fair."
Taro	"The universe has never been fair," Taro notes quietly. "I do not expect that to change now, or ever." It's his turn to run fingers through his hair, some but not all of it falling back into its proper place. Crouched as the golem is, he does not have to tilt his head very much to look at him. Which he does as he lets his hand drop. "You are nothing alike...and yet you..." A murmur of an unfinished thought.
No. 9	His teeth are bare. Against the universe. Snarling at it all. Useless? Yes. But he can't really help it. It's all so, ugly, sometimes and he just can't handle it. Not for a friend like Taro. He looks up, not following his thoughts, but a slight lean and his face brushes Taro's fingers- a seeking of comfort and an offer of it in turn.
Taro	Taro offers a mirror of what was offered to him, and moves to gently tousle Nine's hair. The android's thoughts admittedly can be hard to follow, for reasons more than simply his being a computer within a machine body. "The world has not been fair to either of us. Yet it may be just as well that neither of us has received what we truly deserve."
No. 9	A grimace, there, against Taro's hand. He knows the truth of those words, but it always hurts to be reminded- of what he'd done, of what he was, of where he was going, of what he deserved, oh so eloquently, and for how long he'd be suffering it. He's all mild animal affections, his eyes far away, taking the comfort he'd offered to his friend in turn, trying to ease his mind, the disquiet of his spirit.
Taro	Two monsters, twisted reflections of those that created them. Small wonder that their self-reflections do not always bring them peace. Taro continues tousling Nine's hair for a while longer, drawing some comfort from the gesture even as he offers it. "What a pair we make," he says, equal parts amusement and honesty.
No. 9	A wet, tired sort of chuckle, the Golem losing ten years to his face in a single light, soft smile. "I know right? It kind of nice that, things can, work, out as well as they do, as they have, for folks like you and me." Okay more me then you but still.
Taro	"I am grateful for your company, Nine." One last tousle of hair, and then unless Nine objects, he draws his hand away. His own emotions are still there, but their temporary release seems to have settled him. Not quite cool and rational, but closer. "I will need to return to the Temple later. Not for the conclave, but for the usual services and prayer." A moment's pause. "If you would like to join me...? While you may not find what I do in it, there is a certain comfort I find in the rituals."
No. 9	He wouldn't object. His face doesn't change expression at all actually- and Taro wouldn't be able to see the tightening deeper within, but he settles back with a sort of wistful smile. He nods, rising and offers a bow. "I shall shower to try to make myself presentable." He might be one of Her mutations in their eyes but he doesn't have to smell like it.
Taro	"Thank you." Inwardly, he is a bit surprised that Nine accepted so readily, but he is no less grateful for it. He then looks down at himself. "I should change as well." Not that he's particularly noticed that he's picked up any of Nine's trademark scent, but his cassock has gotten wrinkled, and perhaps a bit dripped on from where he helped Nine from disconnecting himself earlier.