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It was difficult, at first, with the lack of a face to read, but if [Maxwell had] figured out what human facial expressions meant, he could absolutely manage automaton expressions as well.
[He’s autistic. I usually write him as some form of neurodivergent, but I think the analytical way he dissects expressions and vocalizations really fits him here. He’s spent a lot of time in a society that relies very heavily on minor gestures and etiquette, so he knows how to translate things into normal reasonable responses, but come on. He’s got something going on.]
In the center of Zern’s largest city, Maxwell was elbow deep in a flowerbed that, at the moment, did not hold any flowers. He’d rolled his shirtsleeves up to his elbows as he worked, burying the seeds for the desert plants Monty had brought with them.
As a kid, he'd hated getting dirty- at least, being scrubbed of dirt after- but now that nobody was around to say he looked like a scoundrel or an urchin he found he didn't mind as much.
[I really like the idea of the windriders pitching in to help Zern. Not only is that their buddy Torse’s homeland, but it’s also a direct result of something Comfrey did. Love her, but not her finest moment. I almost wonder if the wind riders would feel a responsibility to help. As for Maxwell’s relationship with dirt, I do think he rolled around outside as a kid before it got lectured out of him. I think he’s always been a little rough and tumble.]
“Just, you know, with all the environmental pollution and all that in your homeland. I thought it odd,” He continued, idly flicking the blades of his fingers in and out of their housing. “I do not think any being of flesh has a right to develop our homeworld.”
[Listen. This automaton kind of has a point, but he’s an asshole about it. Zernians would have the right to be skeptical of Gathie intervention on Zern. This could definitely be explored more in depth.]
It was then Maxwell heard it, from off to the side. A low, rumbling noise, guttural and rough. Torse. His spikes had elongated, ever so slightly, and he stood tall, his normal slouch straightened to draw him up to his full height.
[Okay so. Torse makes himself look big and scary, like a cat puffing up. I like the detail that Torse, even in his character art, makes himself look smaller normally. He doesn’t want to come across as a scary Zernian unless he needs to. The other automaton, Woult, doesn’t match this, because he’s not willing to get into a fight over some flower planting, and because Torse is probably at least a little famous for being the last Aganti Zernai before the bell rang., right?]
“I could have handled him.” Maxwell scoffed, wiping the red dust from his face.
“I know. I did not want you to,” Torse said, his spikes retreating back to their normal heights. “You are more than capable of handling yourself, but sometimes things are best settled between automata with our own customs.” He flexed his hand, showing off his knuckle knives to make his point.
“Right, yes. The growling. Is that-”
Torse looked almost embarrassed. “It is… vestigial. It is not a conscious thing. It's a part of our body language, like smiling or raising your eyebrows.”
[First of all, red dust. Zernian soil has got to be packed with iron. I also like the idea of automaton body language being physically built into them, similar to humans. The spikes raising may have started as an actual way to threaten rival automatons or naughtomatons, but now it’s closer to putting up your fists for a fight.]
Torse made- a noise, as he approached. A sharp, low toned exhale, a puff of steam from his faceplate, broken up by fans. Maxwell was reminded of the tigers at the zoo in Utmany Samwell had once taken him and his brothers to. Chuffing, a little part of his brain supplied.
The other Aganti chuckled and nudged Torse a little, teasing. Torse ducked his head, and the chuffing quieted.
“Maxwell. I'm glad to see you.” Torse greeted, lowering his helm for Maxwell to press against. Another similarity to big cats. Noted.
[Torse getting ribbed by his friends for having a little crush is something so personal to me. It sucks and it’s embarrassing but it’s also a reminder that he has time for crushes now. He has friends that can tease him. Also I think chuffing is cute.]
One of the other Aganti- Talus, if Maxwell remembered correctly, started making similar vocalizations when she spotted Marya coming down the gangplank. Marya looked up, and with a bright grin, launched herself at Talus.
They, similar to Maxwell and Torse, bunted their foreheads together affectionately. Dissimilar to Maxwell and Torse, Marya pressed a kiss onto a delighted Talus's faceplate.
[Talus my beloved. Talus is a recurring OC, Torse’s forger, who I often pair with Marya because she deserves a hot automaton partner. And because it’s funny to make Marya Torse’s mother in law.]
Maxwell spared a glance to him, waiting outside the ropes of the elevated stage of the ring, and grinned. Torse nodded his head, careful and calculated. His spikes extended, and Maxwell remembered he was in a match.
[Zern fighting rings! Fighting for sport and entertainment is something Zern, Zood, and Gath all have in common in my mind. Torse’s spikes extending here is a little more peacocky than scared cat.
Maxwell won. He stood and raised his fist in victory, chest heaving, sweat and oil dripping down his back. He turned back to look at Torse, and heard another sound he had yet to notice. Some kind of- chittering, chirping noise, an ekekeke like a cat seeing a bird it couldn't reach. The automata around Torse laughed and jostled him around, which made Maxwell raise an eyebrow.
[Another instance of Torse getting teased. Chittering is another sound I just find so cute, and I like the idea of it being almost involuntary to do to something/someone you find attractive. When I write Torse, he adores seeing Maxwell in his element. I think Maxwell has a very smooth, practiced way of fighting, and Torse appreciates that.]
Maxwell did the only thing he could think to do. He yelled for Torse.
[Emergency boyfriend alert. Alarm will sound.]
“No, thank you. Just- was that you?”
Torse tilted his head. “Was what me?”
[Again, involuntary body language. You don’t usually realize when you roll your eyes or furrow your eyebrows. It’s also another vestigial thing, originally used to alert others of danger, demonstrated by Quark (another OC) popping out of the wastes to check on them in the next paragraph.]
Quark’s lenses turned to Maxwell. “Ah, that's not too much blood. He’ll be fine with a nap.”
[I love to acknowledge DnD logic. He literally just needs a short rest he’s fine.]
“You're absolutely covered in blood, Torse. That can't be comfortable.”
“I will deal.” Torse said simply, reaching back and wiping some of the gore off a spike. Attempting to, anyway. He mostly just smudged it around.
[Don’t worry about where the blood came from. It’s a narrative device.]
Torse’s spikes were magnificent, even more so now that they were being cleaned of blood and viscera. Maxwell took his time, because he could.
This was one of the very rare occasions he was able to touch Torse how he wanted to, after all.
[Yearning! I don’t think Maxwell and Torse are very touchy feely people, so getting the chance to touch him, even under the circumstances, is something really exciting and novel for Maxwell.]
Torse stilled. “No, Maxwell- keep- is it silly to say I enjoy it?” He said quietly.
Maxwell gently returned to wiping the grime from Torse’s spikes. “No. I don't think it's silly at all. Just- that fight was a lot. We have a bit until that meeting, just let me take care of you.”
Torse gently lowered his helm away from Maxwell’s gaze. “Zernians do not… it has been a long time since I have let someone take care of me as the crew does. As you do, specifically. Please, I want you to continue to do so.”
[Every Zernian ever needs a hug and a nice bath. Maxwell really likes taking care of people, but Torse doesn’t usually let it happen. This is a big step for them, at least in my interpretation. This is the closest Torse gets to asking for help for himself, and not help for Zern. He and Comfrey have the same ‘if I stop moving I’ll collapse’ mindset to me.]
“Thank you,” Torse said softly. “I have not been able to relax like this in a very long time. I wasn't sure the ability to vocalize as such remained in me.”
[The last time Torse purred in this universe was with his family, when his forgemate, Teel, came home safe after a run in with a noughtomaton. The next encounter, he wasn’t so lucky, and Torse hadn’t purred since.]
“Yes? Why wouldn't I? It's an intimidation thing, isn't it? Like a- a porcupine.” Maxwell tilted his head.
Marya got a glint in her eye Maxwell didn't like the look of. “Like a porcupine, yes, but it could also be like a peacock.”
[Marya instigating is so fun to write. Also, I will never get tired of comparing body language to the animal kingdom. Are porcupines and peacocks even a thing in Gath? Are their giant porcupines like Olethra’s farm has giant guineafowl? Much to ponder.]
It took Torse a long time to pick up human facial expressions. They blushed when they were mad, or when they were flustered, or when they were aroused. Their eyebrows raised in confusion or excitement, their mouths and lips shaped differently for one of thousands of emotions.
[Robot autism.]
Maxwell pressed impossibly closer. “Do you remember that cave, the one we found a few expeditions ago?”
“The one that is out of view of the road.” Torse answered, Maxwell’s plan clicking slowly into place.
“Mhm,” Maxwell hummed, close enough now to cause condensation on Torse’s faceplate. “I think I'd like to go check it out again.”
[And then they slam down. Big style, even.]