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You are not entirely Dave, you know that.
You are the cheap, watered down, corner-store version of Dave, unoriginal, but filled with intimate game knowledge and bright orange feathers. And sometimes even you don't understand what the fuck is going on, when the game shudders and shakes and glitches. The snapping of breaking, changing space fills you ears and claws at your vision and you hate it. You hate it.
But you are a necessary sacrifice for progress of the game. You are here to help them move forward.
So you bare it.
And you kinda forgot, that you weren't a real person, during the three years you spent on the ship with John and Jade. Because they laughed with you, they chatted with you, they smiled and cried and danced with you.
Then Jade, beautiful, vibrant Jade, loved you for more than friends for a bit. Which was lovely, truly lovely and the inevitable fall out came not, perhaps, because you fell out of love, but because reached a mutual understanding that you would always care for each other, just not in that fashion.
And when you had to go, when you left John with a sky full of watermarks and a head full of questions it hurt. It hurt a lot.
You only have your wings now, you have chained freedom and their safety in your mind. The wheels of the game will turn, space will bend and time will crack and things will burn and burn and burn. You have to save them.
You have to save them.