[ Perhaps forgotten, the glove divested from the Director's hand falls to the ground, Sion's focus gone somewhere else entirely in an endeavor to center himself; to still the programmable matter which raced through the circuitry of his body with an intensity which burned, its intricate pathways glowing all the more brightly through the skin like some beautiful, otherworldly equation. But the programmable matter only courses all the more quickly, its lines visible in their encroachment upon the rest of Sion's body, rising from jawline to the slender arch of the Director's cheek without impetus.
Designed himself to be the catalyst which configured the nanoscale robots which together comprised programmable matter, there has never been an instance where the atoms within Sion's body did not move in accordance with his will. Until the here and now, in this moment where Sion finds himself suspended in a slow arch of what feels like terror, but that is not precisely what Julius has asked of him.
Physically, how does he feel...? ]
...the programmable matter I house needs to be actualized. [ It is a sound answer, voiced in only the most even of intonations as Sion's eyes fall closed, lashes fanning white as snow across his cheeks as he forces himself calm: ] I am experiencing difficulty with controlling it.
[ But as for why, Sion cannot say, knowing only that for all the malfunction's onset had been slow, easily restrained during negotiations with his relatives, his grasp upon it is faltering. Failing. And had his awareness not been comprised, he might have noticed the approach of five others, Leithians who would normally have no place venturing so close to a noble family's estate. ]
[ —one speaks up with a grin, the others conferring amongst themselves, and something sinks in Sion's chest even as he adjusts his stance, becoming imposing and militant in an instant. ]
You have just confessed intent to commit a crime to a Company officer, citizen. It will merit further investigation, lest you stand down and rescind your word.
[ But as much does not appear to be the band's intent, for they quickly regroup, encircling Sion and Julius both. ]
no subject
[ Perhaps forgotten, the glove divested from the Director's hand falls to the ground, Sion's focus gone somewhere else entirely in an endeavor to center himself; to still the programmable matter which raced through the circuitry of his body with an intensity which burned, its intricate pathways glowing all the more brightly through the skin like some beautiful, otherworldly equation. But the programmable matter only courses all the more quickly, its lines visible in their encroachment upon the rest of Sion's body, rising from jawline to the slender arch of the Director's cheek without impetus.
Designed himself to be the catalyst which configured the nanoscale robots which together comprised programmable matter, there has never been an instance where the atoms within Sion's body did not move in accordance with his will. Until the here and now, in this moment where Sion finds himself suspended in a slow arch of what feels like terror, but that is not precisely what Julius has asked of him.
Physically, how does he feel...? ]
...the programmable matter I house needs to be actualized. [ It is a sound answer, voiced in only the most even of intonations as Sion's eyes fall closed, lashes fanning white as snow across his cheeks as he forces himself calm: ] I am experiencing difficulty with controlling it.
[ But as for why, Sion cannot say, knowing only that for all the malfunction's onset had been slow, easily restrained during negotiations with his relatives, his grasp upon it is faltering. Failing. And had his awareness not been comprised, he might have noticed the approach of five others, Leithians who would normally have no place venturing so close to a noble family's estate. ]
"Pʀᴏɢʀᴀᴍᴍᴀʙʟᴇ ᴍᴀᴛᴛᴇʀ, ʜᴜʜ? Sᴏᴜɴᴅs ᴠᴀʟᴜᴀʙʟᴇ ᴇɴᴏᴜɢʜ, ᴍᴀʏʙᴇ ᴀ ʜɪɢʜᴇʀ ᴘʀɪᴄᴇᴅ ᴛɪᴄᴋᴇᴛ ᴛʜᴀɴ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ᴡᴇ ᴍɪɢʜᴛ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ɢʟᴇᴀɴᴇᴅ ғʀᴏᴍ ᴛʜᴇ ᴇsᴛᴀᴛᴇ ʏᴏᴜ Cᴏᴍᴘᴀɴʏ ʙᴀsᴛᴀʀᴅs ᴊᴜsᴛ ᴠᴇɴᴛᴜʀᴇᴅ ғʀᴏᴍ."
[ —one speaks up with a grin, the others conferring amongst themselves, and something sinks in Sion's chest even as he adjusts his stance, becoming imposing and militant in an instant. ]
You have just confessed intent to commit a crime to a Company officer, citizen. It will merit further investigation, lest you stand down and rescind your word.
[ But as much does not appear to be the band's intent, for they quickly regroup, encircling Sion and Julius both. ]
"Nᴀʜ. Tʜɪɴᴋ ᴡᴇ'ʟʟ ᴊᴜsᴛ ǫᴜɪᴇᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀɴᴅ ʏᴏᴜʀ ғʀɪᴇɴᴅ, sᴛʀɪᴘ ʏᴏᴜ ᴏғ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴛᴇᴄʜ, ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇɴ ᴍᴀᴋᴇ ᴀ ᴍᴏᴠᴇ ᴏɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴇsᴛᴀᴛᴇ. Nᴏ ᴏɴᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴛᴀʟᴋ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴡᴀʏ, ʀɪɢʜᴛ?"