We Lose Time
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Summary
Sometime during their unstoppable descent into the realm of the damned, it became apparent to V1 that they are merely a chess piece, moving at the hands of an unseen player; one that is swiftly closing in on the other for a resounding checkmate. At the very end of Hell, Gabriel loses his final match with the machine that unwittingly broke the shackles he had noticed far too late.
Rather than putting an end to his existence, V1 instead takes the opportunity to shatter the board and stop the game.
In the aftermath, both machine and archangel are left standing in the settling dust of the collapsed echelons of creative order. But a scorched earth isn't always the end. Something will eventually grow from the ashes of utter destruction, if given the chance.
Series
- Part 1 of We Lose Time
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“Machine?” He manages, though that term has only ever come up in battle, these limitless summer days. V1 starts, as if snapping out of deep thought. Their dimmed optic light glides up to his helm, staring at him with that inscrutable expression for just a beat longer.
As a follow-up question at last rolls to the tip of his tongue, V1’s hands lift away from the remaining barriers of his modesty.
Metal fingers alight at the tops of either of his wrists, wrap carefully around their width, and bring his palms to curl around the gaps between their pelvic plate and upper thighs. There they are left to rest, and Gabriel is, perhaps quite contrary to their intended effect, struck breathless by their display of trust. At the same time, something ignites within him as he registers how easily his hands engulf their segmented hips.
Series
- Part 2 of We Lose Time
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All it takes is a rough tug of the wire, and V1 immediately loses control of their trajectory. The Knuckleblaster rotates into primary position, but by the time it locks into place, Gabriel’s knee is slamming directly into their scarred stomach. Throwing all his weight upon their stunned form, they drop through the air like heavy stones and slam into the forest floor below.
Everything crawls to a staggered stop. He’s knocked them cold, even if for but a moment. Blood oozes down his wrists and drizzle upon the dazed machine, pinned to the soft carpet of grass. He can hear their fans rattling in their frames like gasps for breath, and their optic has been taken offline.
Pink and golden feathers flare in a display of dominance, diffusing rosy light through that shadowy glade.
“Did you really think you could outrun me? In my own garden?”
Series
- Part 3 of We Lose Time
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“It goes without saying,” Gabriel looms over them, the coloring tool held between his fingers like it were a simple writing utensil. “But please refrain from moving at all, if possible. I certainly don't consider myself the artistic type.”
V1 would beg to differ; the garden’s he’s sown and the colorful flowers he’s blended together count be considered nothing short of masterful brushstrokes across a canvas of not-dead Earth. His hands can handle delicate flower stems and their fragile circuit boards with the ease of long practice. But for his own sake, they decide to drop that particular line of debate.
“YOU GOT THIS.” The warmachine tells him confidently, and leans up just a little more to bump their bezel against the lower part of his cross emblem in a brief kiss. “I TRUST YOU.”
Series
- Part 4 of We Lose Time
