revivalproject | It's a Party in the Not-USA

WHO: York Stark, YOU
WHERE: Agrii Ship
WHAT: Holiday Time
WHEN: New Tick
WARNINGS: York’s broken filter

#FF00F8

This being his third year for this, York knows what to expect for New Tick. Pink snow, too much fucking glitter, and gifts buried in wrapping paper that also probably had too much glitter. The android also knows better than to touch anyone else’s wrapped up presents because unlike the organics around him, that zap goes all the way from his fingertips to his toes. It does not feel any emulation of good.

So he keeps going until he finds his own stack. Three this year? How generous, though seeing one in wrapped up in orange feels suspicious. Did it have to do with the various colors the aliens were wearing? And the orange gift is big, too. Almost as big as York himself. What the hell could that be?

For now, it’s ignored. The pink gift gets opened first, revealing a pretty metallic frame holding…

Holy shit.

York stares at it, then looks up and around for the other two - no, three - in the photo. Then looks back to it again, with Mini, Reeve, Richie, and himself captured in the likeness of a family photo. A family photo. Their family. The only one he considered like that back in Detroit was Duncan, who obviously wasn’t here. After last year’s gift of the matching suits, it was clear that the Agrii recognized them as a family unit. They were a family unit.

The frame is set onto the table with some reverence, because York doesn’t want to break it, even by accident. The purple gift gets opened next and oh. A sewing kit! That’d be useful since Miss Lark went home. She had to have gone home, since he hasn’t seen her in a long time and Little Bear was hanging around one of the Hawkins people. The little kit gets put into his hoodie pocket and he goes for the last one.

The orange gift. It’s nearly flat, thin, and a decent weight. The paper falls to the floor when ripped open and York staggers back. A riot shield from home, with the words ‘RIOT UNIT’ printed on it. The same riot shields that the police used to protect themselves when raiding Jericho. He kicks it away from him, then steps backwards quickly as it clatters loudly to the floor.

#0093FF

The pavilion is nice.

York isn’t really a water kind of android anymore. Not since what happened back home right before being brought to Temba. The terror of the raid, then the shock of cold water that threatened to ice his hardware - water wasn’t what York would consider a good memory.

Standing on the pavilion with the riot shield laying on the floor of it before him felt like a good step towards not being traumatized by it. It wasn’t like he had to get into it after all.

It’s tempting to push the shield into the water and forget about it entirely. It feelsl ike a ‘fuck you’ kind of gift to him, knowing how the police felt about androids where he was from. Or maybe this was supposed to be a gift about taking something from your oppressor to defend yourself with’ kind of thing. Irony, maybe.

 Either way, he glares at it for a long moment, then looks back to the serene water stretched out before him.

#FFC300

Fireworks aren’t really York’s thing back home, and he’s okay with that. But seeing the glee in the younger aliens as they run around, piques York’s interest. It’s not like he could hurt himself the way organics could. He’d just have to repair himself.

Hm, maybe that’s what the sewing kit was for? For himself and his beloved hoodie.

The android goes over to the table to light up his own sparkler, using the burning end to help one of the small aliens light their own before they’re running off. The joy he sees on the alien’s face is enough to have him smile himself. York may be a machine, but he’s not entirely cold-hearted. He starts following at his walking pace, keeping the lit end away from him so the sparks don’t land on the skin mesh. The other hand is tucked into the hoodie pouch as he files after the running children, grinning at their antics.   This wasn’t his idea of ‘fun’, but it’s entertaining at the very least.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

It's a lot to think about, but York's mind sorts the data with ease. Almost like he had a computer for a brain or something. The Order, the Jedi apprentices categorized under the name, and the Republic and Separatists in their own categories.

He does sober a little himself and frowns. "Sounds kinda like what Cyberlife did about deviated androids back home. We were the enemy, that we were trying to take people's jobs and that we'd deviate and kill them. All sorts of bullshit. And then the government turned the military on us."

He looks to Cal and his android friend perched in his spot.

"Yeah. I hope it doesn't get to the levels you and I know things can get to. That's how people fucking die."

"It seems like it's always so easy to get people to turn on others..." Cal says, shaking his head. "I'm sorry something like that's happened to you and your kind too." It's not something that should ever happen to anyone.

"Someone almost did die. Ny Ak was in a pretty bad state when Leo and I got there. Mu Ly wasn't holding back, and he only had a couple of butter knives as weapons." Which must have been just as painful to be stabbed by, he reflects with a wince. The power behind those strikes must have been something, but then Cal had felt the anger that had gripped Mu Ly when he'd attacked the older Agrii.

"It is, humans are usually easily manip-" York cuts himself off, thinking maybe he shouldn't piss off Cal by making blanket statements about humans. Especially since Cal's been pretty good by this android's standards, and while he doesn't hang out with BD-1 as much as he'd like, York likes to think they're pretty good friends.

He straightens up at the mention of the fight with... butter knives. Both horrifying and also impressive. York doesn't mention either adjective. "Shit. Things really are getting bad here, aren't they? Fuck. Butter knives?"

Cal snorts lightly at that, waving a hand. "They are, not going to lie there. I think that goes for most organic species though, and humans only make up a part of the galaxy."

He'd also agree with those objectives. Butter knives definitely shouldn't be used as a weapon.

"It... has been, but I think things also got a little more complicated and that pushed things over the edge." He makes a face, nodding. "Butter knives. They've been arming themselves with anything they figure can be a weapon."

"Good to know it's not just us." York doesn't even doubt that there's different worlds out there, even for him. Cal just comes from a time further out where it's a norm for him.

York lets out a simulated sigh, crossing his arms over his chest with a airless huffing sound. "Great. So we've got people trying to do murders planetside and now potentially getting assaulted by the aliens hosting us. I thought everything about this system was supposed to be better. I do not want to be brought down by a fucking butter knife of all things."

"I don't know what about any of this was supposed to be better, really. We were already being brought in without our say, asked to fix a messed up city plagued by storms deliberately made to keep the Agrii in check, but ultimately was too much that it just chased them from the place they'd thought of as home."

Cal shrugs. "At least you can see a butter knife coming."

It's a Party in the Not-USA

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whoops I forgot the timeline on this one is technically befooooore the attack 9.9;;;

how dare [squirt bottle for aya]

/just guns it no regrets noooow