Deacon Blues

Imagine this trio: a transgenic Realian, a life-recycled once-royal, and the scientist that supervised both their projects.

It wasn't kosher, just then, for her to dip her fingertips in and get involved with either of them, let alone both. But Flora's budding, bleeding heart edged out her academic curiosity, just a little bit.

(As if U-TIC science and its issuing ripples was always strictly academic, anyway.)

There was a certain coldness about Addam that resulted, to her knowledge, from his guilt at having the capacity for sensation even as he was directed to carry out brutal orders, for the purposes of his users, clients, leaders. The difference between this current waking routine and death was quite stark, but the legal loophole of interpersonal relationships that a combat cyborg could yet maintain, possessing all of his mental faculties and memories too, made it an almost advantageous situation, by some degrees.

Who would say so? No one, truly. But Addam could concieve of many a hypothetical argument, and he always had his talking points on hand.

Minoth, meanwhile, was not cold, but was...distant. He stood mute to the atrocities of artificial life and his own existence, grappling with what it could possibly be that drove people to want to control the creation of life so completely.

And Flora...? She was more of a social researcher, an educator, than she was a meddler into natural orders such as these. The questions of life and who was allowed to live, and who had determined it so...she was deeply interested in them, of course, but she couldn't bring herself to publicly comment.

That was why she was so glad to have these two, in truth, to herself. She listened to their misgivings. She tended to them. She lived with them, in their world.