Divine Singularity || Reader x Murder Drones

III

J was starting to lose her patience.

She understood that you were grieving. She did. The whole situation with your pet...bird... friend. Yeah. That was a bit much. Especially for someone who had never lost something before. While everyone else could still remember the dump and their lives before Tessa fixed them up, you didn't have to bear those memories. Your life began when Tessa had found you, unlike J. Unlike any of them. This was new territory for you. New ground, and you were coping with it the only way you knew how.

But the world didn't wait for grief to finish chewing through your heart. And the longer you sat curled up beneath the trees, the more things started unraveling outside your forest cocoon.

For one, Tessa was getting restless, and J was the one forced to keep patching the holes. But she couldn't keep it up forever.

"She's asking for you again," she'd mutter after returning from the manor, setting down whatever bundle of food or supplies she'd smuggled out under the eyes of the staff. "She's asking when you're coming back."

Your usual response? Silence. Or maybe a brief show of those mournful eyes. Maybe a quiet, "soon." But never soon enough.

J could handle tasks and jobs. She could handle chores, duties, N, abuse, hiding in fear of not knowing when she might be dismantled... But lying to Tessa? That one cut different.

Every time the girl would look at her with those wide, hopeful eyes and ask—"How much longer?"—J would feel a sharp spike of guilt wedge itself just behind her vocal processor. And still, all she could say was:

"Soon."

And every single time, her smile would falter, her shoulders would droop just a little, and she'd nod like she understood.

And J hated it.

She hated the look of disappointment that bloomed in Tessa's eyes. She hated that it didn't get easier with time. That every visit back to the manor added more guilt to her chest. She'd do almost anything for Tessa. But lying to the girl? It felt like rust in her joints. Worse than anything the dump had given her.

She looked over at you now—still curled up and refusing to move. She narrowed her optics. Her jaw tightened.

"You can't do this forever," she muttered under her breath.

You could grieve. You could hide. But not when people needed you.

Especially not when it was Tessa.

And as much as she wanted to let you crawl through this emotional wreckage at your own pace, J knew that she just might have to pull you out herself. Because you may have started to sink too deep.

J's hand wandered toward the basket she'd dragged through the underbrush earlier that day. The mangoes inside were still perfectly ripe, yet, they had remained untouched, their smooth, golden surfaces unblemished, unbitten, unnoticed. She stared at them for a moment, frowning. You loved mangoes, but you hadn't so much as glanced in their direction, and for J, that was the final straw.

This couldn't go on.

She stood, the hem of her uniform brushing against her knees, and with an angry huff, she reared one leg back and kicked you.

The impact landed with the dull thump of metal meeting feathers. Your form barely reacted—at least, not physically. Your plumage cushioned the blow, absorbing the force completely. But you moved just enough to pass as acknowledgement. You'd heard her. You just didn't care enough to pretend.

J rolled her optics and grit her teeth.

"Alright," she snapped, kicking you again. "I've had enough of this. Get up. Look at me."