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Seraï stared into the heart of the campfire. Or rather, what passed for a campfire in her world.
It was a rugged octagon of steel, the red paint marking it as a flame source faded and worn from the harsh environment. Six thick, rust-red pipes jutted upward and inward from its perimeter, forming a pyramid that, given the state of the world around them, seemed a cruel mockery of firewood more than anything else.
To the others, the small flames that popped up along each pipe upon its ignition were a novelty. Glimpses of blue in a fire were fleeting where they came from, and yet here was a structure producing nothing but brilliant blue flames. They weren’t too different in color, Zale had pointed out, to Valere’s hair and lunar magic.
Either way, though, it provided a place to cook half-decent food, and it could keep them warm enough as they slept.
Of course, Seraï rarely slept. There wasn’t as much of a need, at least not in the same way there was for Valere and Zale and, yes, even Resh’an. Whereas their bodies might have needed the rest, Seraï’s didn’t. At least, not anymore.
She eyed each of her compatriots. Most had been asleep for well over an hour now, with the exception of Teaks, the historian among the group, who frequently had her nose buried in her Lore Grimoire. Tonight was an exception, however: as it was their first night in this strange new world, Teaks found herself scrutinizing every piece of technology she could come across. At present, this meant she was looking into the finer details of the artificial campfire they’d gathered around for the night.
The historian looked over her shoulder at Seraï.
“It really is quite remarkable,” she confessed with a smile. “ I’ve never seen a flame so steady in my life.”
“It’s the fuel source,” Seraï noted. The correction seemed to pique Teaks’ interest, and the girl rose from her squatted position by the fire to come sit by Seraï.
“Really? Please, tell me more.”
As she settled in, Seraï continued in a plain tone.
“There’s no wood, or oil,” she explained, “just a reserve of gas that you ignite. It burns faster. Cleaner.”
“Isn’t that dangerous?”
Seraï shook her head. “Not really,” she replied. “It’s like any fire. You just have to be careful.”
Teaks hummed in intrigue, her eyes scanning the structure once more. “Still, the shade of blue… you can’t blame our party for being so fascinated.”
Without a word, Seraï looked up to the dark, cloud-ridden night sky. Teaks might have had a point… but to Seraï, the blue flames were just a reminder of how much her world had fallen. She felt the campfires of Velere and Zale’s world had a far greater level of warmth to them— metaphorically, at least. The soft crackling and popping of firewood was much preferred to the steady hiss of methane, the dancing orange flames far more lively and inspiring than a cold, impersonal blue glow. There was a sense of majesty to those fires, one that couldn’t be replicated by gas burners or the rusted oil drums people utilized in Repine.
“I prefer your world’s campfires,” Seraï said quietly. “To have them underneath a sky of infinite stars is… …far better than this.”
Teaks nodded in silent understanding, unsure exactly what to say. Eventually, she just offered a gentle consolation.
“Valere and Zale will make things right,” she insisted, to which she received no reply. Afraid to leave an uncomfortable silence, she then changed the subject.
“I’m actually… very grateful for the chance to study all of this,” she said, patting her Lore Grimoire lightly. “If you’ll allow me, I’d like to learn and record as much as I can about your world and your people while we’re here.”
It was a small offer compared to saving the world, but it was enough. “I appreciate that,” Seraï responded softly, glancing toward the girl beside her.
Receiving both a response and blessing from Seraï at the same time was more than Teaks could have asked for. “Of course,” she replied kindly. “I’ll do my best to avoid any insensitivities.”
Seraï chuckled. Honestly, she was surprised she’d gotten this far without a surplus of questions. Valere and Zale were sensitive, opting to let Seraï explain at her own pace, but Teaks… well, the girl had a habit of poring over the unexplained, even if ‘the unexplained’ was a person.
“So, then… Does this mean it’s time for an interview?”
The joke made Teaks giggle. “Please,” she replied, “you’ve had a trying day. I wouldn’t badger you with those things right now.”
Seraï’s gaze lifted to look over her friends, who were still deep in slumber. “You’re fine,” she said, turning back to the historian. “…Probably easier to ask now, anyway.”
Teaks nodded. Seraï was under a fair amount of duress, naturally, and while Teaks wanted to be tactful in her inquisition, the fact that everyone else was asleep would allow far more honesty in their conversation.
To start, Seraï explained the basics once more— that her world had long since been doomed under the Fleshmancer’s reign; that the sun was eternally obscured beyond thick clouds and the moon hidden deep beneath the depths of the ocean; that the remaining humans had been cursed to suffer in a pained, immortal state as cyborgs.
“So, your eyes and hair…” Teaks hummed sadly, “they’re how you were before?”
Seraï shook her head. “I can only assume so. There are bits and pieces for each of us that have to be remnants from our past selves,” she answered, “at least, that’s what our souls tell us. But I’m a… special case.”
“How so?”
“At the very least, I’m the only one who seemed to keep… this,” Seraï replied, motioning to the upper half of her face. “Most don’t have hair, or humanoid eyes; the pieces of them that remain are just portions of their arms or legs.”
“Random luck?” Teaks asked, prodding for the assassin’s thoughts.
“Something like that. …Maybe they were the luckier ones. I don’t know.”
Seraï’s eyes had fixed upon the campfire once more— and just as Teaks was about to ask why, she continued.
“I know who I am, in a way. That’s more than most of my people can say. They look in the mirror and they see a machine staring back at them. But me… … …I see my reflection and I have no idea who that girl is. I know what she looked like, and I know she was me, but… was she a fighter, too, or was she a pacifist? Did she like to sing, or read novels? Did she love? I’m so god damned close and yet so far from her at the same time. It might have been better to know nothing at all.”
There was a tremble in Seraï’s voice as she spoke.
“What did she feel, that I cannot?”
Teaks wasn’t sure what to say. Seraï often seemed the most emotionally distant of the group, but since arriving back in her world she had been a bit out of sorts. Granted, her mood had markedly improved after the group had taken down the Catalyst, but…
“Sorry,” Seraï whispered, realizing her words, “I don’t mean to ramble.”
“No, not at all!”
Teaks removed the sling from her shoulder, sidling up against Seraï. “I can’t imagine how it must feel,” she hummed. “But… for what it’s worth, you’re still plenty human.”
The sentiment caused Seraï to let out a loud, frustrated scoff. As she cut her eyes at Teaks, the historian defended her view.
“I’m serious. You feel fear, anger, sadness, concern for your friends… all sorts of complex emotions. What’s more human than that?”
Seraï wanted to respond, but came up with nothing. Instead, the only sound was an almost imperceptible whirring as her mechanical jaw opened and shut once more.
“It’s true that you can’t fully know who that person was,” Teaks continued, looking up into the abyssal clouds above them. “But you know who you are now: you’re strong and brave, clever and knowledgeable. You’re a good friend, and someone we trust dearly. You’ve traveled across the Sea of Stars, something that’s beyond most people’s wildest imaginations!”
It was then that Seraï felt Teaks’ hand rest atop her own, and as the historian looked at her she smiled cheerfully.
“The Seraï that you are, the one we’ve all gotten to know, is really wonderful herself! She’s our friend and we’re here for her, even when she’s struggling. And I think that the past Seraï, this younger mystery girl, would be really proud of you.” She squeezed Seraï’s hand gently.
“Maybe,” Seraï rasped, looking down at the pair of hands that lay between them. Two sets of thin, delicate fingers atop one another, with Teaks’ palm obscuring the mechanical nature of Seraï’s wrist beneath. At a glance, they both looked so… normal.
“You know,” she added, a somber look on her face, “I can’t… feel anything.”
Teaks tilted her head, unsure to what extent the assassin meant.
“How do you mean?”
Seraï lifted her arm, wiggling her fingers gently. “I know you’re touching me,” she began, watching Teaks’ hand fall to the side, “because my body understands that there’s pressure. But I can’t feel your touch. Nothing below…”
She raised her hand to her face, touching the fleshy area just below her cheekbone before sliding down to the metal of her jaw. Suddenly, a tear fell from her eyes, startling her. Before it could get far, Teaks leaned close and wiped it away, causing Seraï to flinch.
“Seraï… I’m sorry. Are you okay?”
There was a brief pause before Seraï shook her head. “It’s fine,” she said, chuckling dryly. “I felt that, I guess… But at the same time, I’m so unused to touch or affection that I cower immediately. It’s sad.”
Teaks’ expression turned sorrowful. “It is… but not in the way you seem to think. I’m sorry if I crossed a line, though.”
“No. …It was comforting.”
Seraï didn’t mean anything by the statement itself; it was just a matter-of-fact observation. And yet, the look on Teaks’ face disappeared with a youthful giggle. Seraï turned, surprised by the sudden shift, and was greeted by a warm smile.
“See?” Teaks replied. “That’s a human reaction if I’ve ever seen one. I’m pretty sure you’re even blushing.”
When she’d said it she wasn’t quite positive, as all she had to go on was firelight, but Seraï’s reaction to her words confirmed it: the assassin’s eyes grew wide, and her cheeks turned a bright pink.
“Wh… I’m not…”
Another giggle from Teaks.
“You are! And that’s okay. I promise I won’t tell anyone.”
Feeling sheepish, Seraï turned away.
“…Whatever.”
Seconds later, she felt the same pressure on her shoulder— not the feeling of touch, per se, but of weight— as Teaks rested her head against her shoulder.
“That can’t be comfortable…” Seraï muttered.
“Well, I’m trying to be comforting, not comfortable,” Teaks responded playfully.
“…Sure.”
The pair sat in silence for several minutes, stoic blue flames reflected in their eyes. Eventually, Teaks chirped a quiet suggestion.
“You still can, you know.”
“Can what?”
Teaks shifted her head slightly, looking up at Seraï’s face.
“Sing. Read novels. Love. There’s plenty of time for those things. Especially once Valere and Zale take care of things here.”
Seraï found the thought equal parts compelling and foolish. Even if they were her words from earlier, she certainly had no intention of being a singer, and it wasn’t as though her world was overflowing with classic literature… but, of course, that wasn’t the point being made.
“I hope so,” she said, coldly but earnestly. “I’m tired of feeling… hollow. Like this body is a cold prison I was condemned to. And it’s a ridiculous thought, because in a way I don’t even know what the alternative feels like.”
“I know I can’t really understand how you hurt,” Teaks continued, slowly lifting her head. “But as I said, you’re one of us, and we’re all here for you. And even if you can’t ‘feel’ everything the same, or have the same experiences as others…” She paused, looking into her lap as she pondered how to articulate the rest of her sentence. “There are so many things in this world that are waiting to be experienced by you. Moments and sensations that are yours and yours alone. …Whatever you can feel, whatever those things are that you love, that bring you joy… hold those close.” Teaks held a hand to her chest, smiling. “They’re what it’s all about, in the grand scheme of things, you know?”
She took a quiet breath and then leaned in, kissing Seraï on the cheek, her lips gracing flesh and cold kybersteel simultaneously. As Seraï’s eyes shot open, her cheeks reddened, and she turned to look at the girl beside her.
“Sorry if that was…” Teaks began awkwardly, before shifting midsentence. “I’m gonna… uhm… …W-We should get some sleep.”
Without a word, Seraï watched Teaks rise to her feet and relocate farther across the campfire, using her tome as a pillow. And once the historian had settled in, Seraï, still blushing furiously, lifted her fingers to touch her cheek once more.
An incredible heat flushed beneath the skin of her face, which she’d felt only a few times before. But at the same time, some sort of sensation— something that must have been mechanical rather than biological, surely— arose in her chest region. It was almost like a spark, or a tickle, deep within her construct. As she tried to navigate the feeling, Teaks’ words repeated in her mind.
“Whatever you can feel, those things are that you love, that bring you joy… hold those close.”
Seraï would be lying if she said she wasn’t curious to chase the new feeling, to approach Teaks once more and let their conversations last until the morning light… but this was neither the time nor the place.
Maybe once this is all said and done, she thought. Closing her eyes to rest, she recalled the beauty of the starry night sky back in the others’ world and hoped that, soon, she would be able to see it again here. The pleasant image made her metal jaw shift with a subtle clicking noise into a smile.
“The past Seraï, this younger mystery girl, would be really proud of you.”
Seraï hoped, more than anything Teaks had told her tonight, that this much was true.