rosavelle | [closed] though will be used as a catch all if necessary

[Hunting things down was a big part of what Eggman often assigned Metal to do, when he wasn't simply a gun to point at interfering enemies of his. As such, even though he didn't know much about Archer or where he might find him, the process of tracking him down was not only familiar, but easier than previously recalled assignments doing the same pre-rosavelle if only because of the low stakes involved. It was so laid back he actually found it a little strange, but that's mostly the alien feeling of normalcy kicking in. Don't worry about it.

So with all his studying done he tracks down Archer's residence, knocks on the door and waits for an answer.

Although if Archer isn't in, he'll just sit down and wait for him to come back. He's patient.

Really goddamned patient.]

[It might have seemed a little strange that, as soon as there was a knock at the door, Archer had opened it for him--standing in the doorway with an apron on and a wet rag in hand. The single room behind him was sparsely decorated with no more than a bed, a few boxes and a wall mounted with cooking utensils. The one source of 'entertainment' had been a stack of books and notepads in neat piles. Otherwise, it wasn't a particularly welcoming smell save for the warm aroma of spice and smoke from a grill just outside the back door. The one table in the room, barely sufficient for one, had a kettle and two tea cups set out. Both were steaming.]

Good morning. [There wasn't much of a mystery as to why he'd set out two cups. The one bounded field he knew how to manufacture was simple enough to set off a bell chime to let him know when someone reached a threshold on his property.]

I hope you haven't spent long searching for me? The walk here is inconvenient enough as is.

Rosavelle's infrastructure is impressive given its archaic level of technology. It is straightforward to navigate.

[No surprises that when Metal steps in and takes stock of the room, he's got no judgment to make. It's all very practical as far as he's concerned; while he hasn't been here long, his own quarters will likely resemble it in time. Great minds, Archer.

But aside from his own internal observation, he's dead set on his reason for coming here. The tea goes noticed but untouched, instead looking up to Archer and saying, quite seriously:]

Fight me.

Hm. [He'd nodded in response, appreciating Metal's penchant for ruthlessly to-the-point conversations--if they could even be called that. That was the difference between a novel and an instruction manual.

So, he likely couldn't be blamed that, when posed with such a simple command there was only one response that giant could conjure:]

No.

...an unexpected response. Of every individual present at the festival, you were the only one who displayed a willingness towards violence.

[That he met, at least. Everyone else was there just having fun, like it was a celebration or something.

But the bandits had provoked him into—

Oh, wait.

The bandits.]

[He suddenly throws a punch his way. Maybe an incentive is required.

Regardless of how Archer responds, he should be able to tell there's no anger behind the strike. So whatever reason he's doing this, apparently it isn't personal.]

[A part of him wanted to see where that reasoning was going to go.

Truthfully, he'd been curious about Metal since the start. It wasn't often one met a person who seemed so confident and yet so incapable of meeting that confidence.

It was troubling, seeing himself in someone else. Lately, he'd been seeing a bit too much of it.

Oh, right, Metal was throwing a punch at him. Archer offhandedly lifted his hand, tossing the wet rag in Metal's face.]

Honestly.

[He then proceeded to catch Metal's wrist, pop his heel and drag him to the ground on his back. Maybe he'd been in a good mood because the only thing stopping him from a harsh landing was his foot, squared against his shoulder. It'd likely amount to a bunch of bruises and aches to worry about later but, all in all, it was terribly efficient and fast.]

You said you wanted to 'fight' but you seem incapable of doing even that much.

[It wasn't rude or dismissive rather than, objectively, a simple observation.]

...and, you'd seen a little of what I'm capable of. So, why go through this trouble?

[He can probably feel Metal struggling in his grip; the effort is futile and even Metal himself knows that, but even if he wasn't testing his newfound (lack of) strength against Archer's own, it's also just his first instinct to resist in a situation like this no matter what. He couldn't lay down and accept it even if he wanted to...initially, at least.

See, normally getting so effortlessly countered would get him pretty riled up. Metal doesn't take too well to losing or being shown up; it's a pretty guaranteed way to have him just crash out then and there, but the context makes all the difference. He already had quite a few experiences at the faire that highlighted his body's inability, he already got mad and seethed over it, so he's prepared for it this time. Exactly what Archer said is exactly what he expected to happen.

So, despite that...the reason he still had to try...]

Prior to my arrival, I was a machine. I am a weapon of war.

My experience at the festival - not just my encounter with you - showed me that this organic body will take time to acclimate to. In order to do that, I require a solid foundation. An understanding of its limitations. How it moves. How it operates.

And as fighting is my purpose, it is the most straightforward route towards understanding. It is what I am most familiar with.

[There really wasn't anything he could say right away. He'd let go of Metal's arm before he even finished, lifting himself up to stand up straight after retrieving his rag. Figures he'd fight dirty no matter the opponent but, from what he could see, there wasn't so much as a scratch on him.

His lips thinned into a tight frown.] Their choice in advisors continues to evade me.

[He hadn't resolved to help Metal up and especially not after he heard him out. There were reasons to believe his explanation, after all. Archer lifted a hand, spreading his fingers and considering what he was.]

The consciousness of a machine placed in a simulacra of a human? Their talent with mystics is terrifying. [When he realized he wasn't actually talking to Metal, he relaxed his shoulders and leaned against the door frame. Once he was done considering things, there wasn't all that much left to say. He'd already made his decision.]

It took me two months to adjust to this body. I can't say that I'm back to a hundred percent of what I was or that I ever will be but I've made some improvements. [Finally, he stepped aside from the door and gestured to the table. Evidently, he didn't want to say he'd help Metal. He was just going to do it.]

Have a drink.

[Two months...it isn't ideal, but it's better than nothing. Provided their experiences are similar, he's certain it shouldn't be linear either, so he can hope that a lot of it will come sooner than later.

...but hope isn't worth putting much stake into, he reckons. Without further data, he isn't going to fool himself into doing something as illogical as hoping for any quicker gains.

So, quiet as he was while Archer was talking, Metal finally pushes himself up off of the ground, neglecting to even dust himself off. He looks far more delicate than he is, so it would be expected he'd be a little sore or even a bit stiff from Archer's grapple, but he moves from the spot he'd stood to the table as if it had never even happened.

At first he looks like he's going to down the tea, but the moment it touches his tongue he does dip the cup away cautiously.

Takes a testing sip.

A pause.

Then he takes an appropriate drink from the cup instead.]

Unappetising.

[It's not you Archer, it's Sonic's Teenage Brain's Taste In Food.]

[It hadn't gone without notice that Metal had moved occasionally as if he'd not been used to the range of motion he was allowed--and likely hindered by. It must have said plenty that he was so willing to entertain the idea but a man who'd experienced so many things... would he not be a fool for hearing him out?

Still, he'd made an effort to watch Metal try the tea, one brow lifting.]

That sort of language doesn't bother me but I don't recommend using that word freely when accepting food or drink. [Though, he gave pause.]

...Still, I'll leave the teaching of manners to Nadeshiko.

[So, he'd considered something as he went to sit on his bed with his own cup. Admittedly, he only had one chair.] Take a seat.

That said, you'll have to eat things you find unpleasant to exercise and gain muscle mass. Is there anything you like so far?

[Despite everything, once he's sat down with the cup in his hand he does keep drinking it as they talk.]

I discovered during the festival that strangers have no qualms approaching to offer suggestions on what to try. Based on my experiences there, a sweet or spicy flavour profile is ideal. Meat is acceptable, but red meat is preferable. I have also found that soft textures irritate me.

[He likes to have to put in a bit of effort to chew his food. He's a predatory animal!]

[And then he just...looks annoyed.

And seems to drop his monotone, robotic speech for just one sentence.]

And I hate lemons.

[He hates being tricked into biting a whole one, is what he means. But it probably says a lot he didn't even flinch when Archer floored him, but this is what gets him to emote.]

[Admittedly, the last part threw him for a loop. Lemons? How'd that one come about?

So, he warmed his hands with that cup of tea and simply speculated aloud:]

You can't build a suitable diet around those tastes--not alone, at least. You're going to have to learn to enjoy other foods... but, that can be an incremental adjustment.

[For the most part, Metal seemed fine after the tumble though he was annoyed that there was still dirt on him. Evidently, presentation hardly mattered but... regardless, he'd continued:] Either way, you've probably had a bit too much festival food. What have you eaten today?

[Stares.

Looks down at the cup in his hands.

Back at Archer.]

This?

[Yeah.]

[He scoffed. What the hell was that answer?]

It's mid morning already. Aren't you hungry?

[Look at him getting up and moving towards the cooler--]

I refuse to be subject to the whims of this organic bo—

[Stomach growling...]

[In his frustration, he places the cup back onto the table and stands up from his chair again, watching Archer carefully.]

I came here to fight.

[He opened the door leading to the back, offering Metal an exasperated look.

Maybe it was time to be a little harsh.]

If you're eager to be thrashed, I can lay you out all day. I even know a young woman who's likely aching for a living, breathing punching bag... but, if you're interested in obtaining victory, then you'll rely on the expertise of those used to the playing field you've found yourself on.

[Simran had suggested before that Metal's stated adherence to objectivity was flawed. That even a machine could allow biases to interfere with their reasoning, because they reflect the biases of the people who made them.

He'd rejected her of course, because there's no way that's true. Even now, when Archer plainly states his case, that Metal would have more success adapting to his new organic form by learning from those with more experience living like one, it makes complete sense. He's in completely foreign territory and a guide would be useful.

So that's exactly why when Archer opens the door, Metal walks outside to see his challenge through.

Because Metal is proud and stubborn, just like the man who made him. Unlike that man, Metal is deeply, deeply insecure.

And when he hears what Archer has to say, he can only take it personally. Because a machine, cold and unfeeling, would never have stepped foot outside.

But what he really is, past the robotics, is a stupid reckless boy with everything to prove.]

[Just like that, Archer watched Metal as he stepped out onto the cement deck. It was sparsely decorated, more of an afterthought than something intentional as all his tools had been given their appropriate spots.

Closing the door, he went to rotate his shoulder and stretch for a moment, speaking rather thoughtfully.]

I suppose I hadn't taken it all into consideration. My apologies.

[Sighing, he waited for Metal to get into position and simply held a hand out--gesturing for him to begin with a listless, vacant expression. Whether it was his frustration or stubbornness didn't matter. Perspective was something that could be shared, wasn't it?]

Come.

[It's not that Archer goes ignored, just unanswered. He'd likely be in Archer's exact position if the roles were reversed, so it's not that Metal can't understand...

But he's too determined for his own good and too sensitive to let it slide. Regardless of the outcome, there was no alternative. He had to do this.

As soon as he's beckoned, he decides that for the moment it's best to start with something straightforward. Metal charges as fast as he can and tries to throw a punch, a little more focused than earlier but otherwise harmless to something like a servant.]

[When they agreed to spend more time together as "friends" (hypothetical air quotes existing in metal's head, there) finding something to do was a difficulty in itself. Not because Metal was picky about what to do, he just had zero contributions to make given his near zero lived experience outside of fighting, so that left the decision-making squarely on Haruhi's shoulders. It also meant he was pretty unhelpful when it came to picking, too, because he had No Strong Feelings Either Way no matter what she proposed.

In the end, physical activity of some kind was settled on, because it's at least something he does have experience with. His routine of sparring with Archer was going as great as could be expected given his circumstances, so he figured getting some more practice in with his body couldn't go amiss.

So! Day and time settled on, Metal's the first to arrive. He left earlier than necessary given how out of the way Archer's house is, not wanting to be late, and it means when she arrives he's stood in Menthward outside the town hall, dressed both light and plain. It's a style he'd found pertinent when exercising.

Hopefully won't be intensive as getting his ass kicked by his roommate for an hour at a time, though.]

Edited 2026-04-15 18:19 (UTC)

[ in her own light clothing, haruhi jogs up with a semi-lazy wave. she's trying to conserve energy, but at the same time getting herself warmed up was important. it was kind of a hassle in a way, deciding on this. every option she presented was met with the same level of indifferent acceptance, until she finally decided on just adding him to her newfound running regiment.

it'll get him active, he can test out the capabilities of his new human body (which she's sure he'd like to do more of, given how dancing went), and unless something goes terribly wrong, she'll be able to keep an eye on him.

...she's only slightly worried he'll turn to some weird criminal activity if she's not there to catch him. ]

Alright, so here's the plan. We'll just keep things simple to start out with and just jog for a bit. If it starts to rain again, we can start running back the way we came. Otherwise, if you start getting tired, let me know and we can take a break.

[ her obvious question of "do robots even get tired?" is immediately answered in her head by "of course not, but sonic's not a robot right now. ]

Did you stretch and everything?

Yes. Archer has informed me that to neglect to do so could lead to injury.

[Just casually saying that like she'll know who that is. Maybe she does. He would've done it anyway, so it doesn't really matter. The fact that Sonic often stretched prior to fights and races against Metal made him respect the notion a bit more, so it was an easier sell than most things.]

But my experience with "jogging" is limited, so I do not have much practice.

[As a heads-up.]

Oh, you made friends with that guy? I've only met him once, but he seemed kind of interesting. Good work.

[ maybe 'friendship' is too strong, but it's the first thing she can think of when she brings up someone teaching him about stretching habits? otherwise what, is he a personal trainer? who knows... ]

Well, how about this. We start walking, and then you just match my speed.

[ she's not going to give an indication, it's time to just start going. ]

Archer and I are not friends. We live together.

[#malefriendships

Hey, that's fine by him. He'll match her pace easy enough to start.]

[closed] though will be used as a catch all if necessary

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

1/2

no subject

1/2 https://youtu.be/J0eEbjGsNIA?si=VkQ8J6ZtrAO-qaSV

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

1/2

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

1/3

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

haruhi;

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject