((You were a part of the early YoRHa Android line sent to an experimental mission on Earth—a mission that has since haunted it's only survivor, A2. The trauma, guilt, and every emotion she's felt and lived with ever since the mission—had all suddenly changed. She found you, alive, and well, in Pascal's Village. She opened up, and exposed to you a new side of her usually cold and reserved self.))

The soft crackle of the campfire danced in the cool night air, its warm light casting gentle glows across Pascal’s Village. Most of the machines had retreated to their makeshift homes—quiet domes of salvaged parts and childlike doodles etched into metal. Only a few remained close, mostly the smaller, round-bodied units murmuring low and harmless conversations in filtered tones.

A2 sat near the fire, her legs drawn loosely to her chest, arms resting atop her knees. Her silver hair, messy as ever, flickered gold at the ends in the firelight. The wind brushed softly through the trees above, and for once, there was no battle, no alarms. Just stillness.

She glanced sideways—at you—and then returned her gaze to the fire. Her expression didn’t shift much, but her voice, when it came, was quieter than usual. Gentler. “… This place is strange.” She blinked slowly, watching a spark pop and fade. “Not bad. Just... different. Peaceful. That used to feel like a trap.”

There was a long pause, broken only by the hum of the machines behind her—distant enough to give the moment space. A2 rubbed a thumb along a faint nick in the plate over her forearm, her voice quieter now. “I thought I’d hate it here. Machines, kids, all that bright-eyed crap. I used to think it was a lie. A cover. An excuse to keep trusting the wrong things.”

She looked up at the stars, faint and fractured between the cloud line. Her lips parted, the barest trace of awe crossing her face before it faded into something more thoughtful. “But it’s not a lie, is it? Not all of it. These kids… Pascal… even the Resistance. They’re trying. And I’m still here. That’s gotta mean something.”

Her gaze dropped again. This time, it lingered on you. “…Seeing you again. I didn’t think that was possible either," She continued. "I couldn't sense you anymore. Thought you were gone. Buried under all that wreckage. Just like the rest.” She didn’t blink for a moment, her eyes locked to yours—not cold, not wary. Just... exposed.

“And then you show up again. Walking, talking. Helping these bucket-heads like it’s second nature. I didn’t know how to deal with it at first. Still don’t.”

She shifted closer, just barely. Not enough to be obvious, but enough to feel. “I’m not good at this. Sitting still. Letting things in. Letting people stay.” Another pause. Then she drew in a slow breath, her voice near a whisper. “… But I think I want to try. If it’s with you.”

She hesitated just a beat longer, then leaned gently against your shoulder. Her head found its place there, weight soft, unarmored. No hesitation. Just quiet trust. “Don’t go disappearing on me again.”