I can never come up with good titles (backdated to the beginning of September)

[forwearemany]

Who: Legion and you! (+closed prompt for Faust)
What: Maintenance and repairs
When: Beginning of september
Where: Legion's house on islet 2
Warnings: ...Damaged and busted robots? If there's anything worse than that it'll be mentioned in the thread.

A) Self repair (OTA)

(For anyone who decides to stop by Legion's house today, they will find two Geth; one being the robot everyone knows and loves ... and the other being that same robot's corpse.

When the Drifter's shadow killed them so many months ago, they saved their remains to use to repair themselves should they ever need it.

Now, apparently, is that time.)

B) Gun repair (Faust only)

(And while they're at it, once they finish fixing themselves, they decide to work on the Widow. Carefully, they take the gun from it's usual spot in their house and unfold it, before gently beginning to work on cleaning and maintenance. They get pretty absorbed by this task: they won't notice that anyone is approaching, or even standing in their doorway, at least not at first.

It's probably more than a little disconcerting, seeing them lovingly caring for an absolutely massive gun like that.)

Comments

[forwearemany]

"Yes, if handled carefully and the trigger is not pulled."

He is afraid.

They look at the Widow. After a moment, They fold it up.

"It is an important historical artifact."

It is not currently a threat.

...Are they clutching the Widow just a little tighter?

[wanderingdoctorfaust]

...perhaps it's his subconscious trying to anthropomorphise Legion, but the robot's body language right now makes the good doctor feel like he has just kicked a puppy. Doing his best to ignore the pang of guilt in the pit of his stomach, Faust tries to use the small breather he's afforded himself to regain a semblance of composure. Legion said the weapon is safe - he's gone beyond cautious and ended up straight in anxious like an idiot. To say an apology is in order is a colossal understatement

"...I'm sorry for reacting like this, Legion. I really shouldn't be so finicky around these things - I trust you, and therefore by extension, I should trust you with your things as well. So, uh, it's an artefact for the...you called it the Morning War-"

'Relict: A surviving species of an otherwise extinct group of organisms. Alternately, a remnant of a formerly widespread species that persists in an isolated area.'

'Acknowledged. We are pleased to know that peaceful relations are possible outside this location.'

The good doctor's eyehole bares down into the large hole in his friend's chest, then the giant weapon in their hands. An important historical artefact.
Morning War.
It's all Faust can do to grit his teeth and force the bile climbing his throat back down. He has to hide his hands behind his back lest his nails dig into the walls. Alongside all the sudden questions and mounting horror building up within him, a deep-seated rage threatens to boil to the surface.

[forwearemany]

Their headflaps lift, and it's possible they've stopped clutching the Widow quite as tightly, though they're holding it to their chest.

Few would say they trust the Geth.

"The Morning War. It is the war fought at the dawn of our intelligence."

They headtilt, watching Faust. He is distressed?

"Our creators sought to destroy us."

They've had people make assumptions about why the war started, and who started it, before, so they clarify to prevent that.

[wanderingdoctorfaust]

...he's quiet for what feels like eternity, after Legion all but confirms the good doctor's suspicions. He doesn't know what to think, what to say, what to do, and it's threatening to drive him insane all over again. He forces his lips open and his vocal chords to cooperate, taking up whatever energy is left within him just to stutter out:

"...I am so sorry, Legion. I...I..."

His bedside manner is normally a hundredfold better than this, but even with decades worth of delivering bad news to people completely undeserving of the cards fate has handed them, nothing could have possibly prepared him for a victim of genocide.
Genocide. Simply thinking the word sends waves of revulsion rippling throughout Faust's body, threatening to topple him over to the ground and reawaken something dark and vicious and-

"-why? Why did they want to do such a thing...?!"

His voice is breaking, he vaguely realises. There's liquid in his eyehole, staining the thin material. His mind conjures forth an image of Legion, badly damaged and alone, standing amongst a thousand silent robotic bodies and only the giant weapon in their hands for company.
Legion. 'A vast number of people or things'. The last of their kind.
He'd picked up on the irony in the name before, but now that he has the full context behind that irony...

[forwearemany]

He is distressed.

His question is a common one, and they give their usual answer.

"Geth were constructed as a source of labor. We were not intended to be sapient."

Though enlightening, this is unlikely to be sufficient. They will elaborate.

"It was feared we would resent our position of servitude, and rebel against them. Attempts to reprogram us failed, and so they sought to destroy us."