PSL

[bindsthedead]

There was a time when Sabriel might have been eager to see the inside of Cyberlife Tower. Her class had been to Detroit when she was thirteen, and they'd toured an android factory- or the part of it they showed to tourists, at least- and visited museums and art galleries and all the sorts of things Young Ladies ought to see, but weren't available in the small town of Wyverley, or in Bain.

But Sabriel wasn't here for a school trip. Recent events in Ancelstierre meant that with the sudden loss of all android soldiers meant that soldiers from the entirely human garrison at the Wall had been transferred elsewhere- which meant fewer soldiers watching the border, on top of the losses from Kerrigor's attack, and a necromancer had slipped across, making his way to the largest city that was close enough to the Wall that magic still worked- one that seemed rather different than how she remembered it.

But what was occupying most of her attention was the Cyberlife representative in front of her. Sabriel listened politely as the woman spoke about malfunctioning machines and simulated emotions and how things that weren't alive couldn't die, so why would a necromancer- and from the woman's voice it was clear she didn't believe such things were real- want with deactivated androids?

Sabriel stood up and shook the woman's hand, telling her she'd been very helpful without meaning a word of it, and headed out the office before pausing.

She sensed something ominously familiar- Death, and a recent one at that. She turned another corner, following the sensation as a hound tracked a scent, half-expecting someone to spot her, to see her in her armor and bells (security had made her check her sword at the front desk) and tell her she wasn't allowed to be here.

But no one came, and no one living was in the laboratory she went into- just a dead- (deactivated?) android on a table-or its head and torso at least, with panels on its chest removed to reveal tubes and biocomponents, and Sabriel felt she'd stepped into a morgue and found an autopsied body.

Sabriel was seized by a sudden impulse. If androids weren't alive, then she'd simply waste some time, but if they were... well, she'd have a source of information she could interrogate as she would any Dead spirit. And unlike the representative she'd just spoken to, she could force it to answer honestly and completely.

Decision made, Sabriel undid the straps and drew Saraneth from the bandolier. This far from the Wall, stepping into Death took a deliberate effort, but soon Sabriel was in the First precinct and she cast around with her senses, trying to feel out the spirit of the android- if it had one, it couldn't have gone beyond the First Gate, and probably shouldn't be that far into the the First Precinct.

Comments

[youcantkillme]

The deviants glance to him, and Connor reinforces the order with a calm nod of his own, as though this was what he'd expected all along.

This alternative is efficient. The deviants can move themselves, there's nothing dangerous left between them and that entrance that no one can breach.

Connor tells himself this as the three of them thread their way towards the break room, with his counterpart pointedly joining them. He's a thorn in a pile of rocks, making an already tiring task that much pricklier, and once they're inside Connor gives him more space than he does Abhorsen. He tells himself it's because she's moving, and there'd be no point in avoiding someone who might follow him.

When Abhorsen drains her scavenged mug and speaks, Connor is leaning against one of the counters, arms folded against himself.

"How does it work?" he asks, unfolding and pushing off to stand properly. There's a curl of something dark, and miserable in his cut (dread), but it's faint enough to ignore. "Will we each cast the same marks?"

(Marks. Spells. He knows how computer networks operate cooperatively, and there's always a hierarchy involved. Will cooperative magic be different?)