A Study in Stars.

[covert citrus]

The automaton had spent enough hours in the library that the table in the corner had effectively become a third workspace. Their arrangement of books and star charts was left untouched, the most recent one still marked to the page they'd left off. A few hours' stasis and a recharged battery had dulled their frustration into a simmer, but F.L.O.R. was not quite ready to resume the arduous task of sifting through the vast amounts of useless information the library held for their own research.

After a third failed start, they'd simply settled to allow their mind opportunity to run its thoughts out - though that had never been a particularly effective means of breaking out of the cycles of overthinking they were subject to.

They sit stock-still, their focus somewhere vaguely above the table. Hands remain settled in a prim fold over the open book before them, obscuring the spiralling glyphs beneath. Or....they are almost stock still. One heeled boot taps in rapid, barely-audible syncopation against the tiled floor, the only hint they are powered on at all.

|| @jaunty valve there u go ||

[jaunty valve]

While Enkor usually disturbed peace with violence when on the job, at the guild, much less a library, any peace would be replaced with a 30-foot aura of curses, shuffling, bumping into shelves, and hushed anger. He already had to abandon his axe outside the portal, and with no real idea where he was looking it only made him regret his decision to come here.

Eventually the hallways opened up towards tables, as he let out an exhale with arms wide open, basking in the space, it was apparent a familiar face sat frozen in place. His eyes first scanned their table, the glyphs blurred to him as each book gave him hope

"So-" What was his normal speaking voice, he grimaced, looking around before speaking more quietly "So what're you doin here? Trying to find shite as well?"

He scanned around for a chair that didn't look like it was made out of pencils, his exhale turned into a puff of annoyance as he opted to stand for now.

[covert citrus]

Something is making the table shake just slightly. Something is blocking the light. Someone is looming in their peripheral.

The observations flick slowly alight in the corner of F.L.O.R.'s awareness, blips of intake they can't fully suppress. They make no effort to turn or identify the new presence initially, assuming whoever it was might have the awareness to recognise when a being is deep in thought.

Their heel stops tapping, the brief moment of silence somehow deafening.

...Reduce expectations further.

The automaton's gaze swings sharply to properly address Enkor, brows drawing just slightly together.

"...Correct." The clipped response is automatic, taking the brief moment to compose something further: "If I wanted to find shit I would look in the stables. I am researching."

[jaunty valve]

His brow furrowed for a moment, the trunk following suit in a quick up and down motion as he stared at F.L.O.R., though it was the usual greeting, he wouldn't get over it so quickly. His eyes traced the star charts, fruitlessly trying to recognize any of them before continuing the bothering

"Fair 'nough. I noticed those star charts... you also lookin for somethin. Out there?" His shoulders raised upwards to indicate the sky, though as they lowered so did his frame, trying to sit down as carefully as possible to not disturb the table. Sitting on the ground, a pointer finger extended over a chart, scanning it

"If you are, I am as well. But I've found 'jack so far." Slightly agitated, his shoulder slanted, settling into his spot on the floor. "Trying to find a, a black hole, as its called."

[covert citrus]

The unblinking gaze remains fixed on the large figure for a few moments, but inevitably it slowly swings back down to the materials beneath their hands. They unfold their grasp, peering at the strange print of the book in silence.

“Correct.” They let the automated response play, the delay somewhat unusual. A hand splays over the charts. “…I had presumed the guild’s increased interactions with wildspace would produce more expansive reports, but… Perhaps I should not have expected much useful information to come from the exploratory efforts of mercenaries.”

The brows knit together slightly, but the pensiveness is gone quickly enough. F.L.O.R.’s blank face turns back upwards, shifting their focus to something more actionable for now: “I am familiar with the structures. There…has not been more than the suggestion of one in my own studies. Why are you looking.”

[jaunty valve]

There was an odd amount of seriousness from his stature, he was only slouching to observe the table more clearly. A hand on each knee, anticipating their need to be used at any moment. Usually he cared not for what he wanted, but this seemed to come off as important, or perhaps desperate in his face.

"I need to know where it is. I need to get there, again."
He paused, dropping a shoulder as to slide a small bag from his possession down, laid inside was his fish suit. However it was turned inside-out. Dwarvish writing could be seen etched into the softer fabrics, with chalk notations presumably added by Enkor

"I've got a fook-lot of mysteries, as it turns out. Though, I take it you're lookin for... where ye came from?" Unsure, but trying to make a realistic guess, he waited patiently. Even if F.L.O.R. never showed it, he doubted they'd want to sit silent on their discoveries

[covert citrus]

F.L.O.R. stares, each shift quietly noted. There's a beat: "Right. That could perhaps be deduced with some additional input."

The book is closed, marked hastily with a scrap of paper littered with tight jots and dashes - notes, presumably, not too different in form from the etchings on their spelldisks. Fingers drum against the cover briefly, lingering a moment before they push it aside to allow the various charts to be brought into fuller view. The topmost one is unfinished, drawn with the same unnatural precision as most things F.L.O.R. creates - the edges are busy with notes and formations, the centre increasingly sparse.

"...I am not certain what I am looking for, anymore." It's a rare admittance, though their nature deprives the statement of any suggestion of vulnerability. F.L.O.R. looks and sounds as they always do: disinterested and mildly annoyed. They wave a hand, lacking the vocabulary to accurately express the disconnect. "But I am roughly mapping the space between it and here. Or what I am able to. Perhaps I will understand better when the work is complete."

The project must be finished, at least this much makes sense to them.

[jaunty valve]

His eyes drifted from corner to corner of the topmost chart. In all the years he's observed the stars, unfortunately, he recognizes none. The void is what draws his attention the most, his eyes, darting to other charts for anything else

"If you're not certain, couldn't kill you to look for... other things near em?" He scoffed at himself, running a finger to the side of his face as if to mimic pinching a 'nose' "What I mean is, like with that black hole I want to find, I know kindori travel from it and to this planet. Albeit.. takes them three-ish years." The solidarity in his voice, the lack of staggering, it was becoming real to him again.

He paused, was it helpful to say look for other shite? He was unsure, but he didn't like F.L.O.R.'s uncertainty in themself. "It uhh.. the chart depends on where gal'dryssit rests, no? Where the planets facing into space? If it lines up... going out to space could help, just past the sky." This came off more as a thought rather than serious suggestion. Two fingers twiddled the thick side burns as he thought

[covert citrus]

Lips part slightly in response, then halt - realising with only a fraction of a moment to spare that they've misinterpreted some of his words. There's a soft click of the jaw back to shut, a narrowing of the eyes as they look down over their work.

"Were it so simple." There's no bite in the voice, for once. F.L.O.R. is incapable of feeling tired as persons describe it, but...worn is maybe the nearest descriptor. It is the same pressure and wail of alarm ringing in their ears as they had felt when dragged into the air after months at sea - but they aren't waterlogged. Nothing is malfunctioning. Nothing except...

The automaton shifts to force their vest to settle more smoothly.

"Local wildspace is not the issue. Data near Gal'dryssit is sufficient, if rudimentary." Their own map is pushed aside slightly, vaguely gesturing to the others below. It leaves enough space for Enkor himself to move and inspect them, if he wished. "I..."

"I have been thinking about the matter too long. It is unproductive, at present." The slightly furrowed brow resets. F.L.O.R. lets their focus recalibrate before they linger too much in the pressing sensation present in that corner of their mind. Much easier to unlatch the scattered theories present elsewhere, not giving themself enough time to order it fully:

"...Kindori migrations, though. This is more actionable. There is some information I had encountered-" They stand, just barely avoiding the lantern hanging over their head in the sudden motion. As they pace off to the table beside them and shuffled through books that had spilled over from their own perch, they continue: "*-not precisely local, but behavioural, the book was of some interest to that * thing the deck summoned. Clever unit. Vexing."

They trail off into silence, momentarily focused on their self-assigned task.

[jaunty valve]

The hunch grew into a lean as he observed the charts of the library. He swayed his trunk to the side as to not blow the papers around. Despite him containing himself, there's a glaze in his gray eyes that reflects the lantern light. He remembers.
"This.. for the time of year, and where Gal'dryssit currently is, I wouldn't be surprised if the kindori pod I know may be crossing by soon." Whether useful information or not, it was nearly muttered under the weight of his melancholic tone.

Separating himself but envelopment in the charts, he watched as F.L.O.R. walked and shuffled otherbooks. "We could get their attention if ye know what attracts them. A free ride 'lest you got a spelljammer." He winced from what he said, looking back at the charts

"Don't mean to intrude on your plans, or throw mine into yours." He stretched his back to stand up straight, rolling the shoulders as to lean on his palms placed on the wood. Already was there substantial gain yet with F.L.O.R.'s studies having occurred for so long, he assumes even they have limits. He holds his tongue for now, reliving a space journey or two.

[covert citrus]

F.L.O.R. looks up from their search briefly, an eyebrow slightly raised. If it is irritation or a simple, silent correction of a boneheaded suggestion is not clear - the automaton simply shakes their head, their lips pressed thin. Fingertips drum lightly against the table, a precise tap-tap-tap metering out the message before they look away.

"It is not an intrusion." It's offered after too long of a silence - it is not easy to admit. Like they have to make some excuse for themself, the flat voice continues: "It would be efficient."

Their focus remains on the small, dark book in their hands, a few loose notes stuck within to mark sections of interest. The pages are brittle with age, its spiralling print comprehensible only when they run their fingers over it. A small nod seems to indicate some degree of satisfaction, before they offer the text out to Enkor.

They gesture to the open pages, turning it to face him: "...here. Are you able to read Deep Speech."

[jaunty valve]

Enkor would nod at their comment, he acknowledges at the least joining a research-table mid way through isn't particularly easy, but its about wildspace, he must engage.

He'd let F.L.O.R. speak, his eyes still tracing the papers, tracing for any hidden knowledge locked behind the decades of rage. The urge to ponder of the past would decline as the old book was made the focus of conversation. It reminded him of his old tomes in giant that... were lost to ruin.

Deep Speech? Had he paid attention in primary educations he might of picked it up, but then again, outside of that no true knowledge was taught to him other than the mines as a child.
"Aye... not at all. Just giant and common. But... you know how old the book is? Guessin' a couple centuries. If it's... about old wildspace, might be useful."

Positioning himself in a way to always be helpful was certainly not common in the mammoth-man, his eyes rested loosely, little intensity. Even with the oversized fingers and hands, the front cover of the dark book would be opened gently. In another life, he might of been a researcher like his father.

[covert citrus]

"...at least as old as this unit is. I would venture some of it is older." It seems to frustrate them that they do not have a more specific response. "But it contains some...scattered field notes on wildspace. Travel information. I have been annotating what little I can correlate with the texts available here-"

Even without comprehension, the book is like art. Information gracefully sweeps across the pages in slowly tightening spirals and inks of subtly shifting colour, branching and reconnecting with one another over the surface. There is no respect in its arrangement for the shape of the page or the size of the book, as if this medium struggled to actually contain and convey the language scrawled within. It seems like either an old, poor copy of something, or a makeshift resource.

F.L.O.R. emits a soft click of disappointment, nothing out of the ordinary. There is the familiar tink of porcelain fingers at work, then a small device is set on the open pages - Enkor might recognise it as one of the small pieces of machinery that usually rest unobtrusively in F.L.O.R.'s 'ears.'

"Press this to your temple a moment. It will amend the deficiency, for a while." A momentary pause. "It will also shock you slightly."

[jaunty valve]

'As old as this unit is' was an interesting phrase to the mammoth man. He didn't bother processing the risks of holding the device to his temple, at this point, he'd be surprised if anything could properly hurt more than meteors or colossal monstrosities. His eyes coursed through the swirls for a while, and it may of not entered his skull as quickly as it should of, it surfaced other commentary, other ideas to note.

"All this... nostalgia, it's got me thinking." A squint at the pages, then back at the star charts "Stars move." Redundantly stated, but all for the buildup

"Over time, everything moves further away. Constellations are... they'll change, if you give 'em even a couple centuries."

The cogs were turning in him, an old life drowned by alcohol and consumed by rage. He radiated certainty with every word, for once. "What you, and I, probably need to look for, is what they'll look like instead of what we think they are..?"

He sat back, contemplating the ramble he had started. But what was said is said. Whether is was just jumbles of trash or actually useful, he'd have to see from F.L.O.R.'s reaction

[covert citrus]

A sharp click as the jaw shifts, but F.L.O.R.'s comment doesn't need to pass their lips for the mild irritation at the obvious to be made clear. Their gaze dims slightly, the angle of their head giving them the illusion of narrowed eyes - but they wait, allowing him the time to piece together his thoughts.

"Centuries are a blink in the lifespan of the cosmos, Enkor. It would be akin to measuring the growth of a tree over the course of a day." And yet. F.L.O.R releases the imitation of a sigh, recognising even in their own comparison that something is there.

Minute is not nonexistent. F.L.O.R. had hedged experiments and decisions on far shakier grounds.

They find themself pinching the bridge of their nose for a moment, a brief pause taken to evaluate. The words grit out slowly, more like they're lost in thought as they absently nudge at their chart some nearly-imperceptible angle: "...but. It must be cold in the Hells. You may have something in that skull of yours after all."

[jaunty valve]

Leaning back from his hunch over the charts laid on the table, only a long exhale through his trunk broke his silence. There was this... air of solidarity about him? Resolute. His brow lowered, the forehead almost resembled a frown but his jaw hadn't moved
"Happens when you can't drink enough to get wasted." Simple, stupid sounding, but considering his past aptitude for problem solving, maybe that statement had real ground.

He sighed, deciding to look directly at F.L.O.R., the sideburns moved outwards slightly, a smile formed.

"To be real. Don't think about it too much, but, my father was a researcher." His gaze struck down to the charts "You mighta liked him, had a lot to say about... this sorta stuff."

[covert citrus]

"...tolerance was the greatest threat after all, hm." The comment lacks its usual bite, even if their tone is as unbending as ever. There's a sharp sound - amusement? - that cuts from their throat, like something forced and strange to their automation. They shake their head slightly, clearing the deviation from their mind.

The cerulean gaze fixes with a snap, a brow slightly raised. Some degree of interest is caught in the comment, or...

"I do not have the capacity to 'like' persons, Enkor. There are only useful ones or tolerable ones." The words are just empty reminder, the majority of F.L.O.R.'s attention seemingly focused on the work. Yet they don't flip the page their fingers run over, nor do they move to adjust their charts. "...Regardless. Was he the author of those books you were disturbed over. This is...comprehensible."

They're squinting a little, as if that might help them navigate the thought.

[jaunty valve]

In a muse of enjoyment at the thought, Enkor exhaled from his trunk quickly. Tolerance might had been the issue in the end. Or, until he grew bored of drinking, whichever came first. He'd lean an elbow onto the table, propping his head up with the thumb and index finger as he raised an eyebrow
"You sure tolerate L.A.S.E.R a lot." A simple jest, nothing else jetisoned from his mouth on the matter, but an old memory of the trio riding a caravan out of an exploding building back when they were Iron's surfaces. Underneath the bushy sideburns and trunk rested a grin.

Following what F.L.O.R. said, he begrudgingly nodded "Yep. He wrote one of the books. The rest I found on the moon I lived on." His eyes scanned the rows of bookshelves surrounding them, adding. "Probably never know what giant's wrote those books, now."

[covert citrus]

"L.A.R.S. is not a person." F.L.O.R. offers this plainly, as if the distinction should be obvious. A finger taps in sharper emphasis against the page, the only sign his jest has actually gotten between their plates.

"Hm." A curt nod, pensive. Then a hand cuts through the air in a swift wave, wiping the thought away: "What is lost is lost. We work with that remains. Little use in lingering over the unknowable."

"...Perhaps you will find something closer to the place you seek."

[jaunty valve]

'They're right, but they're both more than 'bots' - the mammoth thinks to himself. Something he wish they both acknowledged, but as it's always been, that is something for both of them to decide for themselves.

His head wavers as the words leave F.L.O.R.'s mouth. "The unknowable is what remains to me." He partly scoffed, now straightening his back, a heavy sigh followed "I doubt I'll ever know what my father researched, or... if Ill figure out a lot of my past, really. It's what I don't know that gives me ambition. For it's either that, or I start anew, disconnecting my old life to whatever this is."

The rambling subsided, his eyes squinted at his own dumping of grievances. But two things were constant; F.L.O.R. would listen, Enkor would yap.
"In any case. Don't think there's anything left I can help with."

[covert citrus]

"Is starting anew such an unacceptable outcome. Much of what you have described to me does not sound..." F.L.O.R. pauses a second, searching for the correct word. "...particularly desirable to return to."

But even F.L.O.R. can spy their own hypocrisy as they desperately seek answers to things half-known. There is...a sigh, almost.

"What do I know. My own programming would delete this mind if I allowed it. I refuse to be reduced to what I was, but I cannot help to try to understand it." The whole frame freezes momentarily, then the head shakes in some attempt to restore their original line of thought. "Regardless. The distraction is something. Useful. You are useful."

[jaunty valve]

"If I knew loxodon, maybe it wouldn't be unacceptable." He chuckled, the large pads for palms were raised partly as if he was examining his mammoth-body for the first time. "Returning to a human would... be desired. Even if I wouldn't live as long. Or be as strong."

Truly, the only reason Enkor wanted to do anything, for anything now, would be for his old man. The only one that was around up until he couldn't be. These thoughts rammed into the interior of Enkor's skull like usual, but they slowed down, at least a little, as F.L.O.R basically called him useful. "My mom wanted to name me Anchor; the thing that held the ship down when it needed to hold. My father, added the dwarvish-spin on it. My mom mined out the hole we lived in, on early Space Vegas. My father made it a home."

"I just want to be who I am. And learn about my dad, hopefully. We both have very easy alternatives to life, but its the resistance that wakes me up in the mornin' " Heavy were the words, yet his shoulders relaxed. A sense of assumed-clarity, perhaps.

Slowly, he stood up, acknowledging the work across the table. "Glad I could distract ye, for a while."

[covert citrus]

Their gaze meanders over their research, brows drawing together slightly. Persons often spoke of home, anchoring, roots - the language was infuriatingly inconsistent, and yet F.L.O.R. had begun to find some degree of...charm in the variability for something so many persons valued.

"I understand." It's all they can force out, really, without having to find suitable words for the rest of the thoughts crowding them. All of them are too imprecise, suited to the sorts of useless poetry persons so naturally spilled. F.L.O.R. was not designed with such a sense, or perhaps they'd never had much of one in the first place. It is so difficult to discern how the pieces fit.

There's a stiff, curt nod - appreciative, in their own way. "Well. If you require further data for your travels, you know where to find me. I am content to be of assistance."

Their attention returns to their work as if there had been no interruption. After a beat, the flat voice adds: "...take care."