Am I Crazy? I'm Out of My Tiny Mind

It was a strange feeling for Miller to be able to roam his dorm room freely again. It had been months since he was last at the school. He was just glad to return to somewhere familiar. This time around there was nobody waiting on the other side of his door, no clones, no shape shifting police officers, just his humble abode. It was not the same as he had left it nearly half a year ago. He supposed someone had cleaned it during the many months he had spent in that mad farm house and at court for a crime he didn’t commit. He was just lucky to get out of that one with his freedom intact. His saviour was his creator yet again, his name sake. Why didn’t he take him back? That actually wasn’t much of a question he was concerned about, he was hoping the minute he saw the man again that they wouldn’t take him back to that lab.

There was too much on his mind. Information was moving faster than he could possibly process it. What was there to think about? Let’s go down the list; he still wasn’t quite over killing Margaret or the many other students trapped within that farm with him, he could say that he killed so many that he couldn’t even remember their faces, but he did. He remembered what each of them looked like minutes before their death, how they chose to accept their fate at the hands of his blade. It was an unsettling thought to ponder upon. There was also his mistress, her touch enchanting, the other voice enjoyed her. They craved her still. She was one of the few that entrusted him with anything, yet he didn’t know her name. Then there was everything that tied in with his clone. His mere existence was enough to unsettle the boy, the thought of there being more of him unnerving and terrifying especially if they did not hold the same value toward life that he did. That also meant that his creators knew where he was, could invade and capture him whenever they pleased. Miller had always been on edge, but these thoughts only made his condition worse.

‘If we would have followed her, we could have avoided this all.’

There was a stray knock at his door. His eyes leaped to the wooden door, bulging with terror and paranoia as the knock rung a second time. He wasn’t expecting company. He had no friends to come and greet him on his return. Unless it was… no she wasn’t here anymore. If it wasn’t friend, then whoever was behind the door was foe. It was the police officer again wasn’t it? Here to convict him for another sin he had committed, she wasn’t going to catch him not this time.

Miller’s deep black eyes traced back to his window. There was no other escape. Even if the sun was out today he was going to have to risk it, he wasn’t going back to that police station. He slammed open the tinted windows, the sun’s rays almost blinding him as he exposed himself to the sun. Hiding his eyes, he climbed onto the sill and quickly proceeded to dive from the over two story height. In his descent his skin changed and solidified to save his bones from his fall.

He landed within the safety of some nearby shrubbery hidden within the shade of the castle. Miller’s skin reverted to its fleshy properties once his landing was secure. He supposed that the best he could do now is to wait until nightfall to venture out once more.

@miller OUTFIT notes:

The blonde girl was wandering the grounds of the school with only one intent--to get away from the judgmental eyes of the rest of the students.  One glimpse at her scar, and people were repulsed.  Well, what was she supposed to have done?  Dismissed the fact that she'd killed someone, like the monsters she'd been raised by did?  Like that was any better.  Like they would be okay with taking control of someone's fate, and cutting the thread of life.  She wanted to tell them not to judge until they'd lived her life, but she simply didn't have the energy or will to engage in an argument with any of them.   And with the bright summer sun and the heat that was practically radiating off the concrete in waves, the courtyard seemed like it was as good a place as any.  A few trees offered decent shade, though not enough to cover the entire area, and picnic tables provided a seating alternative to the burning ground.  So, she took a seat on the bench nearest the spurting fountain, the water of which occasionally splashed far enough to reach her.   It was hot enough that even the coolest outfit in her closet--jean shorts and a tank top--only exposed more skin for the sun to burn.  Luckily, she had liberally applied sunscreen beforehand, which, from the smell surrounding her, would be obvious to anyone who came close enough.  Of course, she also had her regular pair of silver crystal stud earrings.   Zoe stared into the shallow depths of the fountain, not really seeing the water that danced merrily into the sky.  Now that she was here, at Foresta, she didn't see a way she could go anywhere else.  It wasn't a bad place to be--no urgent warnings or emergencies in the first few days since she'd arrived--but with her quietness, it wasn't going to be easy to make friends, and that would make her time here all the more trying.  In fact, it was probably going to be easier for her to make enemies, despite the fact that she wasn't a naturally angry or vicious person. She ran a hand through her long hair absently and with a lethargic sigh that had nothing to do with the temperature, although it might have been interpreted as such.  A sudden, loud bang startled her out of her reverie, and she automatically twisted to face the direction the sound had come from.  A large mass of... something fell out of a window, and into the bushes, snapping branches and rustling leaves.  A lizard came skittering out of its hiding place, just as alarmed as she was.  On full alert, she pushed herself to her feet, stepping closer and closer as quietly as she could in sandals.  If it was dangerous, she was prepared to use her power, but that was a very, very, very last resort.  She almost wished she had a gun of sorts, not to actually injure anyone or anything, but as a threat.  Of course, it was possible that it wasn't even actually anything that was alive.  With this thought in mind, she pulled apart the intertwined branches of the bushes warily.

( I DON'T WANT TO SAY THAT LOVE IS A WAITING GAME )

^#97345c

BY SKYLARK'S FOLLY AT ADOXOGRAPHY & CAUTION

There was enough of an impact with the brush that Miller was quickly enveloped by it, finding a hidden gap behind the school and the stumps of the hedges. It made for a rather nice makeshift hiding spot, but he didn’t want to waste too much time there. As his skin was reverted to a more flexible form he began to crawl through the bushes, paying little mind to the twigs and branches that scrapped against his skin roughly. To be honest it wasn’t the worst entrapment that he found himself in for the past few months and the small scabbing that he would get from his hasty movements were nothing compared to pain he felt before.

As he continued on his way, he heard a second set of rustling. It came from behind him, the spot that he had fell from originally. He ceased himself then and listened to the movements. He couldn’t see much past the branches and leaves, they were quite thick. The only option to actually view his pursuer was to raise himself over the bushes, but that would give them an equal opportunity to get a glimpse at him. Who was following him? Could it be that the police officer out predicted him? It was a possibility, she was smarter than him and frankly he believed intelligence was an easy angle to outmatch him in. She couldn’t have gotten down here that quickly. Perhaps it was a partner waiting for him at the only other exit? That is if the police officer was involved with this at all. It could just be a curious student. Foresta seemed to be filled with students with curious minds. He couldn’t run the risk though, if it was danger he didn’t want to encounter it.

He continued moving forth, ignoring whatever his pursuer actually was. Well, more so frantically trying to escape his pursuer than ignoring it. Any curious mind could easily be filled with bad intentions. Miller’s squatted crawl turned into a hasty hobble as he tried to keep his colossal body out of sight. As the boy continued through the shaggy shrubbery, the sun’s rays began to poke through the creases. With his metallic blade being safely secured at the front of his body, a small stream of light bounced off its surface and directly into his light sensitive eye. His lid swiftly shut and he flinched backward as the unexpected flash surprised him. He rose out of the brush due to his reaction and unleashed a “Gaahh.” He used his blade to block the light from entering his eyes once more.

Almost as though he forgot about his pursuer for a moment, his head twisted backward in a panic. She wasn’t large and luckily she didn’t look like an officer, but that didn’t mean he stood a chance against her. He froze in place like a deer in head lights, his animalistic eyes staring at her waiting for her to make a movement so that he may flee.

@miller OUTFIT notes:

Her investigation revealed nothing majorly visible, but the rustling noise began again, and this time, it was moving away from her.  There was also a gleam of metal coming from the mobile form, which could be attributed to a piece of jewelry, or perhaps, if it was a stray pet, an identification tag.  She cautiously followed the source of the sounds without stopping to repeat her process of peeling apart the bushes.  That would have taken too much time, and she would have fallen behind her target. Another flash of light hitting a metallic surface.  This time, however, a tall figure emerged from the shrubbery with a noise that was a mix between an airy snarl and a groan.  He appeared to be holding a wide-bladed sword, which he swatted in front of him.  Alarmed, Zoe ducked instinctively and retreated two feet.   The figure stared at her with wide, eerie, black eyes.  At first glance, he resembled a normal boy, aside from those predatory eyes.  Upon closer inspection, however, she realized that he was not carrying a sword.  Rather, it seemed that one of his arms was a sword.  She hadn't realized she'd been holding her breath until she inhaled sharply, filling her lungs with much-needed oxygen. It appeared as though neither one was going to be the first to make a move.  Fight or flight?  That was the question to which she had no answer.  Obviously, she wanted to get out of here, but she had a feeling that if she moved, that blade would take another swing at her head.

( I DON'T WANT TO SAY THAT LOVE IS A WAITING GAME )

^#97345c

BY SKYLARK'S FOLLY AT ADOXOGRAPHY & CAUTION

It was so strange to interact with another student after such a long period of time away from people either not involved in the arena matches at the farm or not involved in his previous court case. She backed away though, in fear of something. Most likely him. He hadn’t really realised that his blade had nearly contacted the girl. She made no sudden movements after that, she said nothing and return his stare causing them to become locked into an action-less showdown. Miller dared not to break his gaze as he was taught that such a thing would allow his opponent to capitalize on such a minute opportunity. The woman hardly seemed bulky, in fact had significantly less muscle, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t a threat. For all he knew she could be able to teleport him to a different hellish dimension with a single touch.

His eyes shifted quickly to spy on his open windows, as soon as they became in his view his attention snapped back. No one seemed to be inspecting his escape route, so he was partially safe in that department for now. The girl was still an issue though. She was dressed rather scantily, couldn’t possibly be hiding any sort of weapon on her body. No physical weapons anyway. He slowly turned his body around, his blade now being furthest away from the woman as he tried to ease the situation into a more peaceful setting. As on edge as he was he still wanted to avoid causing fights as much as humanly possible.

Miller’s teeth softly began to chatter and the ceases of his inhumanly wide mouth began to split as he tried to think of something to say. He was almost immediately regretting the decision of breaking his battle stance, he had the upper hand in the situation and if the student truly did turn out to be dangerous then things could go bad for him rather quickly. The upper half of his face flexed and his eyes squinted now that his blade was no longer acting as a shade. He tried to make do with his free hand, though he required a much bigger surface than it. “…Why do you stalk me?” he finally questioned in a curious and quiet tone. He wasn’t sure if he was even going to get an answer. Frankly a simple answer to this would release a ton of the stress he had toward the situation.

@miller OUTFIT notes:

It seemed as though the two were locked in a silent stare-down.  For a while, neither moved, each studying the other.  Zoe knew that whoever moved first would have the upper hand, but she didn't want to incite a conflict that might not occur without her involvement.  A sudden shift of his eyes made her muscles tense.  Very slightly, she relaxed when he began to turn his sword-arm away from her.  Estimating how far the blade would reach, she took another step back.  Better to err on the side of caution, as she'd always been taught. His squinting eyes indicated that he either had poor vision, or was highly sensitive to light.  By his next action, which was to lift his other hand to shield his eyes, it was the letter.  She also noticed, when he began to speak, that his mouth stretched out much wider than most.   She answered his question in a tone that was just as quiet.  "I'm not stalking you," she said. "But something falling out of a window isn't something most people can just ignore."  In fact, it would take a monumental amount of disdain for one's surroundings to disregard such an occurrence. "Would you care to explain why you fell out of a window?"  And why his appearance had been different while doing so.  The falling mass definitely had not had any sort of blade attached to it.

( I DON'T WANT TO SAY THAT LOVE IS A WAITING GAME )

^#97345c

BY SKYLARK'S FOLLY AT ADOXOGRAPHY & CAUTION

Miller continued to watch the woman’s movements as she set herself back. Her faltering suggested she was just as fearful of conflict as he was, which probably meant she would inflict no harm to him purposefully. Thankfully that meant that Miller’s gamble was not in vain. Her reasoning was sound, perhaps she wasn’t looking for trouble after all just seeking some answers for his actions. While he still had a hard time rationalizing that the girl was safe, he could at least say she wouldn’t harm him just yet.

His view shifted back to his room’s window as he spotted movement from it. When his eyes investigated his quarry he spotted nothing. Perhaps it was just a curtain flapping in the wind, but of course Miller couldn’t believe such things. There was something or someone up there and that meant returning to his room wasn’t going to be an option for a very long time. Back to the woman, she hadn’t altered her stance much, though she wanted an answer for his bizarre actions. He supposed it was reasonable for anyone to wonder why one would leap out a window, but Miller had an odd feeling she had ulterior motives. He hadn’t seen the girl around school grounds ever, and along with that he had very little acceptance for new faces anymore. The scientists knew his location, which meant anybody could potentially be a spy or an enemy looking for information. Just the mere thought caused his bones to jitter, so much so that the woman could probably pick up on his shivering.

“You’re not in the need to know” he answered timidly. He was rather hesitant after his rejection to her question, almost like he was expecting an explosion to erupt after his statement. He made no further actions to annunciate his nervousness since he was already displaying quite a lot of it. “But I jumped willingly, not fell.”

@miller OUTFIT notes:

Zoe's eyes followed his gaze to the window he'd appeared from.  There was nothing there.  Her gaze quickly flicked back to the boy himself as he in turn returned to watching her.  For some reason, he seemed to be trembling.  Because of her?  Had news of her power preceded her?  She hadn't even told anyone about her abilities, so that was unlikely.  But she knew from personal experience that there were ways to gain information other than through verbal communication or the grapevine.   His answer to her question was unsatisfying and raised more questions then it answered.  She wasn't one to argue, but she did want more answers than that.  "Either way, how did you not get injured?" she asked.  How exactly did one fall from a height of over two stories and wind up without any broken bones?  And did he have a death wish or something?  Jumping out of windows wasn't exactly a recreational sport.  From his posture and the way he spoke, the boy was just as tense and unwilling to start anything as she was. Absently, she ran her left hand through her hair without thinking.  She then suddenly realized that by doing so, it would reveal the scar on her arm.  Dropping her hand quickly, she tried to think of something to say to distract from the possibility he might have seen the ragged remnant of the self-inflicted injury.  "How come you have a sword as an arm?"  It was a thoughtless, blunt question, but it was the first thing that came to her mind, and hopefully effective in distracting from the scar.  Probably not.

( I DON'T WANT TO SAY THAT LOVE IS A WAITING GAME )

BY SKYLARK'S FOLLY AT ADOXOGRAPHY & CAUTION

She continued her onslaught of questions. It seemed as though they were probably never going to end despite him already asserting his dislike for her questions; the word ‘asserting’ being used as lightly as possible of course. For what reason did she need to know anything about him anyway. Even if she was a spy as he had predicted, she should already know the answer to the questions posed. Unless of course she was trying to make it seem as though she knew nothing knowing that Miller would expect her to be a spy and gain his trust to the point where she could get to the question she really wanted to ask and bring them back to his creator. She looked too perfect as well, which would only further answer his assumptions. She was either made to look as friendly as possible or had her face altered to that point. That was thrown out the window as soon as she accidently revealed her scar. So if he was right then why would such a blemish exist on her body? Miller didn’t have the mind to capacitate such thoughts and organise them.

As she asked him how he avoided injury, he investigated the minor cuts and scrapes he had received from the branches during his escape attempt. His arms were riddled with the things, but they were hardly anything the scale of her own scar. Miller then glanced at his own scar he had received from nearly a year ago from a pair of pliers. It was mostly hidden within the creases of his hand now that it had fully healed, they were tiny anyway. Those weren’t the purpose of her inquiry though, his descent. He didn’t know how to answer her question even if he wanted to. Lying was never an option that popped into his head under these circumstances. “Why are you concerned for the state of my body? My ability prevents harm from coming to me.” Despite how vague that sounded it was actually the best he could explain it. He didn’t know how to inform someone that his skin hardens without some sort of context to how that works and frankly he’d prefer not to give the woman an ample opportunity to take advantage of him while in his motionless solidified form.

Her next question arose then, his arm. It was a common question among the student body, when they had the guts to ask him anything that was. His eyes began to detract from the female as his posture lowered like he was preparing to run off in the opposite direction. Unfortunately he couldn’t really run anywhere without being trapped within an open field and the sun punishing him. He tried to hide his blade behind his back as he did this. “It’s not something I enjoy speaking about, not something anyone would like to hear either. I’m not a sinner if that’s what you want to know” he explained rather meekly. ‘Don’t lie, this body has sinned, we just refuse to admit it. She didn’t penalize us for it though, she rewarded us.’ Miller tried his best to ignore the other voice for the time being, allow it to speak and just not respond to it no matter how much he wanted to.

@miller OUTFIT notes:

As he answered her, she noticed that he had indeed acquired a few scratches, but they were minor and barely noticeable.  She herself had only noticed them because he'd been looking at them.  Otherwise, they would not have caught her attention. Instead of answering his question properly, Zoe did what he had done--replied with another question.  "Why not?  I'm not heartless," she said softly. "If they hurt... I can heal them for you."  There was actually a reason she was concerned.  With all the pain she'd caused so many other people, being kind and using the flip side of her abilities was sort of her coping mechanism, her way of making up for something she could never really make up for.  No, she wasn't heartless, but her actions had been.  She hated that she was never strong enough, never willful enough to stand up to those cruel leaders.  They should have never been in a position of power, but in a gang, everything was different.  It was a minor miracle that she hadn't become like them through some sort of personality osmosis. He wasn't a sinner... Unlike her.  "That wasn't what I was asking," she said.  No, it hadn't been.  She didn't want to know that she was the only one who had committed such egregious acts against others.  Her actions didn't match her personality--it was two puzzle pieces that weren't meant to fit to together, but had been forced into juxtaposition.  She didn't want to or need to feel worse about what she'd done, and hearing that others were innocent didn't help.  It wasn't like she'd expected him to be guilty of murder or something along those lines, but she didn't need to hear it spoken aloud.  Rubbing salt in the wound, as it were.  More like tearing open the scar on her arm, mixing salt, vinegar, alcohol, hydrogen peroxide, and hand sanitizer and massaging it in. She supposed that if she wanted information about him, she'd have to sacrifice some about herself.  "How about this?" she offered. "Information for information.  Ask me anything you want, as long as I can do the same of you."

( I DON'T WANT TO SAY THAT LOVE IS A WAITING GAME )

BY SKYLARK'S FOLLY AT ADOXOGRAPHY & CAUTION

The woman posed a rather valid counterargument to his own, but whether was actually heartless was yet to be seen. Other students rarely ever gave Miller the time of day and even when they showed promise of friendship and an extended a helpful hand he usually never saw them again. Even the helpful wanted nothing to do with him, what difference could this new person possibly pose? That is if she was a student and not a spy after all, though the spy angle was becoming less and less feasible. That’s probably the exactly what the girl wanted him to believe though, outsmart him with an extension of kindness.

The man’s wild eyes fell back upon his biceps as she offered to heal the cuts. He didn’t know how she was going to do it, whether it be her powers or through the application of band aids. Either way he didn’t want the woman touching his skin, too many dangerous possibilities if he allowed it. “Their pain is hardly felt. It is unnecessary” he answered in a rather simplistic manner. His jaw began to settle, not because he was feeling any more comfortable but because he was transitioning to the next stage of his nervousness where his head began to shiver like it was winter and he forgot to bring a jacket. The only way he could possibly refuse her help even more is if she admitted to being a doctor or practicing to be one. Naturally, the man neither trusted nor liked doctors.

She stated that whatever he had done wasn’t what she was looking for. Then what answer did she want out of asking him about his sword arm? What other use could one have for a giant metallic stake than murder and impaling? It was far too big for any other practical use. She attempted to run a deal with him though. Miller was hesitant to agree with her considering she had more interest in him than he did for her. Besides wanting the knowledge of whether or not she was a spy, but she wouldn’t reveal such information so easily anyway and would no doubt lie to keep her cover. He stared at her, the memory of her arm’s wound still fresh in his mind. It looked rather fresh from what he saw of it. That either meant she received it not too long ago or she had a habit of picking at it. Of course he only had a spilt few seconds to observe it so he might be wrong altogether.

“That hardly seems like a fair trade. That would only lead us both to being uncomfortable with what we have to say. I doubt you’d be so eager to tell me anything about that scar you have the same as I would my blade.”

@miller OUTFIT notes:

He assured her that her offer was unnecessary, and began to tremble even more violently.  That was fine with her.  He didn't seem to be in any pain from the scratches and scrapes.  But why was he shivering?  It was the middle of summer and the sun was out and at full power.  She thought it was unlikely that she was the cause.  She didn't think she'd done anything to intimidate or alienate him.   Zoe shifted uncomfortably under his scrutinizing stare.  When was she going to get away from the opinions of those who didn't understand what she'd done?  It felt like she was trapped in a prison where the walls and bars were made up of the judgmental eyes of the students here.  The girl who'd sent her here had thought this might be a safe haven for her.  It was turning out to be nothing of the sort.  Even her old life had almost been better.  At least close to no one had judged her then.  People had been willing to ignore the scar because of what she contributed to their cause.  A terrible cause, and terrible contributions, but still... He seemed to be very opposed to her proposition, but instead of continuing to say that he did not wish to impart information about himself, he said that he doubted she would want to share information about her scar.  At this, she stilled.  She wasn't surprised that he had noticed--after all, it was pretty attention-grabbing.  But she wished he hadn't.  With a grim half-smile, she said, "That makes it fair, does it not?"

( I DON'T WANT TO SAY THAT LOVE IS A WAITING GAME )

BY SKYLARK'S FOLLY AT ADOXOGRAPHY & CAUTION

At the end of the girl’s statement, Miller’s eyes went to the bush he was standing in for confirmation (he would’ve been looking at the ground otherwise). Her reasoning rung true, but were the truths that either of them could spew really the kind of things they would want to hear? Miller didn’t even know what sort of story could arise from asking about this girl’s arm wound. It could range from an accidental slip of a knife to some deranged tale of woes. Frankly he had his own issues to handle. He finally stepped out of the bush, a long and tall stride which wasn’t difficult to perform given his gargantuan size. He relaxed his body as he settled on the grassy terrain, though he still had his tendency to twitch anxiously and fearfully. “Fine, I’ll agree to your terms, but if you hear something you don’t like that is on your hands not mine.”

Miller had no clue how to begin or what he should even tell and what he should leave out. How did ‘I was genetically created to hunt and kill your species’ sound? Probably not the most subtle way to approach it nor was it a way he enjoyed to introduce himself. Although they never covered a proper introduction, most likely due to their standoffish beginnings. He wouldn’t be all too surprised if they left each other without even stating their names. If she wasn’t a spy he would expect to also never see her again just like the rest. He supposed he shouldn’t delay her an answer for too much longer.

His eyes honed back in on her as he continued to cuff the side of his head as a makeshift shade. Miller’s left arm returned from his backside and rested on his stomach so that it was within her view. “I was… created with this blade. Not this one specifically, as I grew older they replaced it with one that better fit my size. It was for the purpose of getting accustomed to working with only one hand. The sword itself was so I never went into battle unequipped and with a weapon I would be knowledgeable with.” He purposefully left out what he purpose of his weapon was.

@miller OUTFIT notes:

The boy finally emerged from his spot within the snare-like fingers of the bush's branches, seeming the slightest bit more at ease.  His hand was still acting as a shade for his eyes, which seemed like it'd be extremely uncomfortable to maintain.  The fact that he did so anyway, however, implied that the consequences of not doing so were even more unpleasant. "And the same goes for my answers," she returned, with a sad, short laugh.  Zoe was happy, though, that her idea had worked, even if it did mean the possibility of starting the rumor mill all on her own.  She didn't know if she could trust him to keep her secrets. He told her that he'd been 'created' with a blade for an arm.  So that he'd be prepared for battle?  Did he have a similar background to her own?  for his sake, she dearly hoped not.  "What do you mean by 'created'?" she asked curiously.  A pause, then another question.  "Do you have any nerves in your.. blade-arm?"  She studied the weapon.  It looked like it would be quite heavy to have to carry around every day.   "And after you answer.. It's your turn to ask."  She was going to stand by the offer she'd made.  But perhaps she would have to make another offer, which would hopefully ensure the confidentiality of whatever he wanted to uncover about her past.   "If you don't want me to tell anyone something that you've said, I won't," she said suddenly. "All I ask is that you do the same for me.  Even if you don't, I'll still keep anything confidential if you want me to."  The last part was added as a sort of assurance for him that she wasn't trying to blackmail him.  Another step to preventing the spread of rumors might be to withhold certain information--specifically, her name.  But given that it was highly unlikely she had a look-alike at Foresta, it was easy enough to describe her--short, blonde, and most of all, with a giant scar on her arm.  Even if she did have a look-alike, she wouldn't have that last feature.  "By the way... My name is Zoe."

( I DON'T WANT TO SAY THAT LOVE IS A WAITING GAME )

BY SKYLARK'S FOLLY AT ADOXOGRAPHY & CAUTION

In the moment that the other girl had begun to laugh, his brows shrouded uncomfortably over his eyes. He released a single unsettled chuckle to match her own. He didn’t understand what she found so humorous about the situation unless she found enjoyment in grim conversations. He wasn’t quite sure how to think about that, unnerving was an emotion that came to mind but at this point he couldn’t get more unnerved by everything. That wasn’t a challenge though, he didn’t want to see if he could break the current threshold.

Miller didn’t quite understand how she could not comprehend his notion of being created, but he supposed that the knowledge that genetically spawned and altered beings was not common among everyone. It seemed like second hand knowledge to Miller, like he was a common animal. His eyes scanned the ground once more to analyze the shaded area’s border to quickly remind himself that there was no easy escape from this place. “Created as in not born. In the traditional sense anyway. I technically do not have any parents, instead a staff of creators” he spoke calmly, though his jittering jawline made it difficult to express this calmness.

As her wandering curiosity jumped back to his bladed arm, Miller gripped around his elbow joint directly over the cross section of flesh and steel. His fingers slid over a couple of veins that ingrained into the blade. “Yes… I can feel through my… blade. It’s not as strong as other limbs, but I can still feel it like an arm.”

As the woman mentioned the next section of their agreement after he had already spilt so much information about himself, he had a slight panic attack raging through his mind. Why was this being mentioned now of all times, before now would she have actually said anything to anybody. He thought that this conversation was all about confidentiality. His eyes bugged out at Zoe. “I thought that went without saying? No, I won’t say anything. I have no one to speak to about this. Yes, don’t mention a word of this to anyone” he spoke up finally showing a bit of assertion, again though it was broken by his nervous jittering.

“Zoe… Miller” he muttered, lowering his head like a dog. He spoke his part, it was the girl’s turn to share something of hers. He wasn’t even sure if he wanted to hear anything out of her, in regards to her scar that is. He wasn’t sure of what else to question about, besides if she was a spy but he debunked that plan already since it was doubtful it would even work. “Your scar… What’s its significance?”