faderift | [OPEN] Ralph Wiggum!voice: I used to be a robot!

WHO: Connor 60 and YOU \o/
WHAT: Trials and tribulations of a conflicted former robot learning about being human.
WHEN: Harvestmere
WHERE: Gallows, Lowtown.
NOTES: Good time to meet him? He's really grumpy, though :D

i. Library

He trims the candle and lights it, satisfied that it will suffice to read by although it is still frustratingly dim. Not for the first time, Connor is distracted by the Change as he has come to call it. Not a day goes by when he doesn't think about it in some small way, although he has stopped obsessing- thankfully- about not being a machine anymore. This time he shakes his head at how sensible his creators had been to make androids to just be, well, better than humans. Before the Change, he could simply scan the pages, analyzing the entire library in a matter of moments, immediately digesting every facet- not only the meaning of the texts, but the totality of each book down to the fingerprints of their readers over the centuries. Now he must rely on burning string covered in animal fats just so he can see, and process the bare text one word, one phrase at a time.

A feral feeling warms him. He wants to devour the contents of this book, to know everything. Now. He has found himself in this new world where nothing is familiar- nothing. Not even himself. And he must have information. Outwardly, his eyes flicker over the scrawling text- a carbon ink, he knows, not from analysis but asking the librarian who looked at him askance as if he were speaking like a child. A carved wooden vessel is filled with a mildly warm infusion of leaves to which honey has been added. He brings it up to his mouth, pausing to let the warmth of the light steam brush against him before he takes another sip. He feels like fire and ice at the moment.

ii. Lowtown

He pounded his fist impotently against the thick planks of the table. A fork slipped from the nerveless fingers of his other hand, neat piles of bright red granules depositing on the table as they tipped off the tines. A strangled moan escaped his lips. He gasped. Was this pain? Was he dying? Had he been poisoned?

The dish had been recommended to him; it was popular, they said. Lies. What possible motive did they have for subjecting him to ... to this? He was burning, burning up from the inside.

Nearby, a waitress exchanges a bemused glance with a patron. "I can't tell if he likes it or not."

iii. Wildcard

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Newt has just finished up his own meal in the tavern when he hears the strangled noise coming from over across at another table. Curious, and slightly concerned, he finds himself, against his better judgment, most likely, approaching, wondering if he might able to help.

"Are you alright?" He asks the man, ignoring the gossiping wait staff in favor of studying the man and his food.

"If it helps," he says, a bit of smile tugging at the corners of his lips, "I find ale usually helps wash it down."

His mouth opens and closes, opens and closes. "H-ot," he gasps weakly. Well, the stranger seems to not be at all alarmed which is a good sign. He must not, in fact, be dying. Tears streaming down his face, he turns to the smirking waitress.

"H- Ale, ale," she begins asking him for his preferences as he waves her off with an irritated hand. She returns a moment later with a mug, which he dives into with a will. "Arguh! ... Humans eat this stuff?" he cries. "All the time?! ...On purpose?!"

"Oh," Newt says, frowning as he gets a better look at the way the young man as the tears fall from his face.

At his exclamation, though, Newt does have to bite back a smile.

"Indeed so," he answers with a small smile. But it isn't unkind. "Some people enjoy it, even."

"Did the ale help?" He asks.

Connor cannot help but stare at Newt for a moment, as if he has temporarily lost the faculty of speech. His estimation of the human race has undergone the most radical shift in his short life, in this moment. "They... enjoy it," he says at last, then sputters a few syllables, unable to decide how to express his sheer disbelief.

"...Thank you, yes..." he says finally. "I'm not poisoned, I guess, so that's something. Uhm... My Name is Connor," he offers his hand awkwardly.

[OPEN] Ralph Wiggum!voice: I used to be a robot!

ii.

Re: ii.

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