At the mere mention that plums were only for old people who can’t shit, Eula would lift the riceball up, as if offended on its behalf.
"They’re perfect when paired with carbs to slow sugar spikes, and when pickled provide a good amount of salt for your dietary needs…" Eula analyz-splained, before looking down at what she’d brought.
"But I can…bring something else, if you like.""
Hm~" Carroll smirked, as she opened her mouth, only to be interrupted:
”Huh? Alice, come on. Now’s really not the time for you to be fucking with me”,
"
Not here," Carroll says, standing up, "
If you are offering food, I’ll take you up on it, whoever you are," Carroll would pass Takeshi without saying a word, "
Lead on, Automaton."
Judging from the conversation in place on the other side of the room, Eula had a feeling some memory jogging was in order…but, she knew very little about Carroll. The only action they’d shared was a simple one, one that bears repeating, as Eula walked beside Carroll and held her hand.
Carroll tilted her head; her shock of pink hair tumbling over her stranger’s face. It was nothing like the Carroll that Eula bounded with, nothing like the Carroll that she was before that, but someone else. A stranger, standing where a friend once stood, wearing her skin... slime... and warming Eula’s hand just the same, yet not.
It was like putting sugar in a beef stew, instead of salt. Sure, it worked, but it was wrong.
"
Handsy, aren’t we," Carroll teased.
Eula would simply respond with:
"You entrusted your memories to me with that hand. I won’t let go simply because you aren’t yourself at the moment.""
My memories..." Carroll hummed. "
Surely, you don’t expect me to take a Prototype Synth at face value?"
"I am Eula 039. I am nobody’s prototype," Eula said, gently squeezing Carroll’s hand.
"I can bear you not remembering me. But you must remember Io. You have to."Carroll’s playful flippantness evaporated, as she suddenly slammed Eula into a wall, and glared at her. "
Why do you know that name!? Are you one of mother’s spies!?" she growled, her hair fusing into a long, thin blade, before splitting in twain like scissors.
After colliding with the wall with a loud thunk, Eula looked Carroll in the eyes, gaze unwavering as one hand remained gently holding Carroll’s wrist.
"Those memories were entrusted to me by the Carroll I know. …That chose to…hold my hand. Even if the only spark is a resemblance…" Eula’s other hand would suddenly shoot up, shoving the entire pickle plum-filled onigiri into Carroll’s mouth, the automaton saying:
"That scene…the breakfast you shared with her and your children. I remember all of it. Because you let me."Carroll gagged, as she was force-fed plum - of all things. It was infuriating in a uniquely distracting way. It tasted as terrible as she suspected, and expected - though, perhaps, that was because she wanted it to, so it did. However, it was... something she would do. Io was the type to push Carroll to do new things, regardless of how much of a spoiled brat she was being; you didn’t have seven children with someone you didn’t value, even Mamono understood that much.
Still... why would she trust her memories to someone that bore but a passing resemblance?
"
Who are you... to me," Carroll asks, lowering her scissors.
"I am Eula 039. And I…" …What was Eula to Carroll, even? The automaton wasn’t sure. But…she knew the last thing her and Carroll did. With a gentle hand, Eula would cup Carroll’s chin before pressing her lips softly against her cheek, the automaton’s cold expression melting a bit as she blushed, pulling away.
"...Have…yet to discuss what we are to one another. And would like you to remember so we can talk about it.""
Huh!?" Carroll reflexively touched her cheek. Snippets of thoughts flashed by, like framed in a projection, across the canvas of her mind. Memories of Io. Memories of her daughter. Memories of the war. Her Mother’s Game. The explosion of magic, and the silence of exile. Memories of years of war, of fighting, of learning, of growing in hatred, until... silence again... exile again...
Snapshots.
Fragments.
Errant thought.
"
I... I don’t belong here... I... We... Alice and I... Mother’s spell, the Curse of Exile.. I lost so much! I lost everything! I don’t want to remember!" Carroll shouted, taking her head in her free hand; digging into her flesh. "
I don’t want to be here! I’m not -- It’s not right! I... I am... no-one... An excuse... A waste..."
Carroll drew blood from her nails, and put pressure on Eula’s hand; threatening to crack it.
Eula would seize Carroll’s wrist, then gently hold both of her hands even as the metal of her hands creaked.
"Carroll. You have to. Even if its painful…even if it hurts you more than dying…that is the only way Io can stay with you forever. You have to remember," Eula said, her cruel kindness sealed with her moving Carroll’s hands away from her body, then looking her right in the eyes.
"Absence of memory is oblivion. I have no memories before awakening some time ago. If it grows too painful to remember…then share the burden. I have sufficient space for your grief. Your anguish. Your tears.""
I don’t want to remember like this..." Carroll says, "
Hate-filled. Angry. Io was my everything. That was centuries ago. Her power core is likely long since drained. Reduced to nothing more than a statue. My daughters... mine... the same..." she grit her teeth, metal grinding, "
They’re gone! Dead! You would have me remember them, and burden you with my pain and hatred!? For what gain?! Pity?!"
"To feel something other than emptiness," Eula said, smiling softly as she held Carroll’s hands tighter.
"I could never pity someone with a love so pure that they miss it more than anything. …But…I am simply a machine. If I can aid you, then I will. To stand by as you entrusted your memories to me, only to see you run from them…I wouldn’t dare break that promise. To you, or to Io.""
A machine doesn’t aid. A machine assists. Aid heals. Assistance helps. There’s a difference," Carroll says, "
My head hurts... That plum is disgusting... I knew it would be..." she says, "
You are..." Carroll closed her eyes, "
...still confusing to me."
"You are simply too picky!" Eula asserted, releasing a hand to boop Carroll’s nose.
"Come. Let’s find something you like for breakfast, instead. Though…given the state of the area, you may have to settle for rice dishes, like onigiri. Perhaps, they have some fish, too…""
I am not picky in the slightest," Carroll says, "
You are simply too tasteless."
"You insisting that a delicious fruit is only for old people who cannot defecate is crass and overly picky in nature. …But…what do you like to eat?""
Me? I can simply show you what I like to eat," Carroll smirked, her familiar smirk looked off still on the face of a stranger, "
Follow me, Little Miss Epicurean."
Taking Eula’s hand, Carroll would pull her to the kitchen area.
Eula would follow quickly, especially since the automaton’s (fair for her species) weight was rather hard to tug, following Carroll into the kitchen.
Carroll would look around, before smirking. "
I know exactly what to make for breakfast," she says, before letting go of Eula’s hand, so she could work her magic.
From baskets, she’d pluck eggs, carrots, and potatoes; scoops of rice, salt, and pepper; hocks of hams; handful of cheese; all with a purpose. To fire, she’d set water to cook the rice, pre-salting it with a splash of oil to keep it loose. As the rice cooked, she’d chop the carrots into thin slices, then quarter them, before cubing the potatoes, and setting them to sear and caramelize in an oiled pan. To the side, she’d set the veggies, and place down thin slices of the ham to char in the used pan, gaining flavour from the vegetables.
Finishing the rice, she would transfer a few scoops to a bowl, and mix in the veggies and ham while the rice was still warm and loose, while she cracked four eggs, and readied a skillet. Laying out the egg, she’d cook the underside semi-dry, before transferring it to a plate, and flipping the raw side back onto the skillet - spreading her hearty mixture upon the omelette, and let the bottom dry a bit, before she would use a spatula to bring up one side, and roll it over like a rolled omelette with the thickness of a folded omelette.
"
Try that,”" Carroll says, presenting the plate with a sprinkling of pepper.
"Quite the display of cooking skills," Eula said, always impressed when someone cooked. She couldn’t really get a knack for it, and food made by someone else always tasted better anyways. Picking up a knife and a fork, Eula would take a bite of it and smile softly, suddenly lost in nostalgia.
"...It tastes wonderful. I haven’t had something like this since I came to Shizuyama.""
You'd be hard-pressed to find a creative touch in such a traditional place. Cooking is a wonderful adventure, with no place for stifling traditions!" Carroll says, as she clapped her hands, the pink in her hair was turning silver, as the stranger was crumbling away.
Eula chuckled softly.
"Not necessarily. Traditional cooking like Shizuyama’s have their place. The flavor of their rice, the texture of it…the sound of fish grilling over an open flame…" Eula would take another bite of the omelette, before saying:
"Everything about one’s cooking informs you of their life. And, of their home.""
Mayhaps, maybe, but nevertheless, if risks are not taken, then ground is never gained," Carroll says, "
Though, risk-taking does come with abominations like that plum ball covered in rice..."
Carroll's hair would settle back into its boring, lifeless state, unlike the lovely, lively state it was before, and hang as hair and not cooking utensils. Eula was eye-to-eye with those piercing, hollow eyes that seemed to carry naught but contempt.
"Fruit and rice go together!" Eula said.
"A tavern in Eastersland had a wonderful dish in spring, a chicken and rice dish with peaches in it. It was delectable.""
Curious," Carroll says, before leaning forward, and pressing her lips with the left corner of Eula's, "
My cooking is still unbeaten. Though, perhaps, I'll try a dish like that..." she says, one she drew back from stealing the bit of rice.
Eula would gently touch where Carroll had kissed, then, upon realizing she was just stealing rice, would promptly gain a deadpan expression as she threateningly lifted up the shrimp onigiri she’d had earlier.
"Now…try iiiiiit!" Eula said, getting up and waving it menacingly.
"
If I do, I want you to try something in return," Carroll says.
"I can agree to that.""
Kiss me," Carroll says, simply.
There was one surefire way to settle the strongest matter of emotions:
Chin up, face forward.
Eula would press forward without hesitation and kiss Carroll before she’d even tried the onigiri, experiencing the first true kiss in her life then and there as she held Carroll against the countertop.
Normally, Sword Devils made bargains, then reversed the order of execution in their favor as means of possession. To be outmaneuvered by Eula, it wasn't something Carroll had accounted for - largely due to how docile the Automaton was.
However, that wasn't the case here.
Leaning back, Carroll would take Eula's hands; unconcerned with the seafood-flavored ball of rice plummeting to the floor, as her arm transformed, and her link with Eula deepened.
Testing the waters, her tongue teased the lips against hers.
Eula wasn’t adept at romance, but could sense a desire for Carroll to taste of her, of the machine that knew nothing of touch, and allowed it. With lips parted she invited Carroll in, tightening her hold on her hands as they embraced as something more for the first time.
Carroll would bring Eula into a clash of tongues, a battle of emotions, and the flavors of each other - even if that flavor was a PLUM and her rolled omelette. After a minute or two of trading synthetic spit, Carroll would pull back, blushing, as she said, "
There's your fruit and rice dish. Happy?"
The automaton would plainly say:
"No," before diving back in for seconds, this time pinning Carroll to the countertop and kissing her once more. …She was a glutton, after all.
Carroll was momentarily taken aback by the simple refutation, before Eula took all the initiative, and pinned her down to feast.
Once the machine woman had her fill Carroll would be freed from her iron grasp, Eula’s lack of needing to breathe meaning that the cursed sword would never need to come up for air if she didn’t choose to stop.
"There. Now, I have eaten my fill. …I wonder, if Kerry has helped Alice recover her memory as well…"Carroll never felt so blessed that her biology was relative to a Slime, so she didn't need to address most biological functions - like breathing. Instead, she could indulge her gluttonous... lover?... girlfriend?... the right term was yet to be decided.
Dinner guest, perhaps?
Regardless, her question would rouse Carroll's attention. It was true, if Carroll's memory had been temporarily corrupted... most likely Alice's was, too.
"
I could always check, I suppose," Carroll offered.
Eula would get up and offer a hand to Carroll, as if she hadn’t just sucked her face for three solid minutes.
"...This time, I will accompany you. If you lose your memory again, I’m feeding you shrimps and plums to make sure you remember.""
Such a threat, I don't think I would dare lose myself again, but..." Carroll took Eula's hands in her head, pressing their foreheads together, "
...will you be there, in case I spill? Will you catch me, if I start to fall again? Will you kiss me, as Eula, and only as Eula 039?""
"
If I need to use that power again, will you be who I use it for?"
Eula would press forward, gently hold the sides of Carroll’s head in kind, and then nod.
"I can only be myself. I will be by your side as long as you want me," the automaton said, before suddenly picking Carroll up in a bridal carry, starting to walk towards the door.
"
He-Hey! I can walk, you know!" Carroll says, kicking her legs fussily.
"I am aware. But I am faster.""
Yeah, but I need to sort this myself. Alice and I have to reconcile, both what happened and why," Carroll says, "
All I need from you is to believe that I can."
Eula would smile faintly as she let Carroll down, somehow already back at the building they’d started in.
"I believe in you, Carroll."
Carroll nodded. "
Then, I can. But, maybe, one more kiss for the road?"
No more words needed to be said as Eula leaned in, giving a chaste kiss on the cheek before going in for the kill once more, this time only going for thirty seconds before releasing her blade of a lover.
Carroll drew back, and smirked. "
I'll be off, then," she purred, "
darling~"
Maybe, it didn't mean anything to Eula; terms of endearment, displays of affection, and the like. Maybe, she was operating on a system of call-and-response, gauging Carroll's calls and adjusting her responses.
Maybe, she really could process and replicate emotion.
Whatever the reason, it was a boost of confidence that Carroll needed to charge forward into the barracks.
A silent wave would see Carroll off, while Eula held a hand up, touching her own lips in fascination. So…this was how it felt…to be able to follow and complete a directive.