hello, world [And what a big world it is... 6O seems to be doing her level best to look everywhere at once as she waits for the ride to her "temporary housing", turning this way and that to follow the paths of passersby and vehicles until one of the locals waiting here hisses for her to cut it out and stay still.
He's a human. Of course she stops. He might not have the authority by the rules of this city and the pale gray line down his throat, but he does by the purpose built into her very code.
Her eyes still dart back and forth though, trying to take in everything. It's more than she can process right now; she keeps unconsciously reaching out, trying to link into the familiar mesh of her fellow Operators' minds, only to find nothing. Proof, if the noise and the dust and the color and the people weren't enough, that she's not on the Bunker anymore. It's a strange, unmoored feeling, like the earth (the earth!!) isn't entirely stable under her feet- or maybe that's just her processors overloading. This is so much. That's all she can really feel about it now: it's just. A lot. A lot a lot.
... The seating on the bus sure leaves a lot to be desired once it arrives, though. It's hard, and doesn't fit nearly as nicely to her body as her workstation, and the cushion is somehow... sticky? It feels less than pleasant against her artificial skin, anyway, and while she's not all that worried about her near nudity (having her face uncovered feels more exposed, really), the paper gown leaves more of her in contact with this thing than she'd like.
She still manages a cheery if somewhat dazed smile for the person sitting nearest to her, and blurts out the first thought she can string into a sentence:]
Hi— uh— is it always like this?
sub school table it for later [With her proper uniform back in her possession, 6O's status isn't immediately obvious. Her veil is back in place, the black and gold almost entirely opaque and long enough to brush her collarbones; the dark line shows through the mesh front of her suit, but blends in with its coloring. It's definitely the actions of the submissive she's watching, though, attentive as if she expects to be tested on this. Even with most of her face covered, though, there's a clear discomfort in her expression when Miriam starts stacking items on her partner.
They're both human. Why would either of them lower herself to the role of furniture when they're so much more? (Isn't that super inefficient, anyway? An actual table would take less upkeep than a human or an android.)
Maybe someone else here can shed some light on the issue. She turns to the nearest reasonably-friendly-looking person and whispers:]
Do all submissives have to do that?
wildcard [thotobots, roll out
feel free to tag her on the train too, that starter would have pretty much been the bus but prettier and I've gotta run to a work function for a little bit!]
6O | Nier: Automata | Submissive
[And what a big world it is... 6O seems to be doing her level best to look everywhere at once as she waits for the ride to her "temporary housing", turning this way and that to follow the paths of passersby and vehicles until one of the locals waiting here hisses for her to cut it out and stay still.
He's a human. Of course she stops. He might not have the authority by the rules of this city and the pale gray line down his throat, but he does by the purpose built into her very code.
Her eyes still dart back and forth though, trying to take in everything. It's more than she can process right now; she keeps unconsciously reaching out, trying to link into the familiar mesh of her fellow Operators' minds, only to find nothing. Proof, if the noise and the dust and the color and the people weren't enough, that she's not on the Bunker anymore. It's a strange, unmoored feeling, like the earth (the earth!!) isn't entirely stable under her feet- or maybe that's just her processors overloading. This is so much. That's all she can really feel about it now: it's just. A lot. A lot a lot.
... The seating on the bus sure leaves a lot to be desired once it arrives, though. It's hard, and doesn't fit nearly as nicely to her body as her workstation, and the cushion is somehow... sticky? It feels less than pleasant against her artificial skin, anyway, and while she's not all that worried about her near nudity (having her face uncovered feels more exposed, really), the paper gown leaves more of her in contact with this thing than she'd like.
She still manages a cheery if somewhat dazed smile for the person sitting nearest to her, and blurts out the first thought she can string into a sentence:]
Hi— uh— is it always like this?
sub schooltable it for later[With her proper uniform back in her possession, 6O's status isn't immediately obvious. Her veil is back in place, the black and gold almost entirely opaque and long enough to brush her collarbones; the dark line shows through the mesh front of her suit, but blends in with its coloring. It's definitely the actions of the submissive she's watching, though, attentive as if she expects to be tested on this. Even with most of her face covered, though, there's a clear discomfort in her expression when Miriam starts stacking items on her partner.
They're both human. Why would either of them lower herself to the role of furniture when they're so much more? (Isn't that super inefficient, anyway? An actual table would take less upkeep than a human or an android.)
Maybe someone else here can shed some light on the issue. She turns to the nearest reasonably-friendly-looking person and whispers:]
Do all submissives have to do that?
wildcard
[thotobots, roll out
feel free to tag her on the train too, that starter would have pretty much been the bus but prettier and I've gotta run to a work function for a little bit!]