Yeah, the main thing about the Blade network? Nothing in here is supposed to have an actual conscious stream outside of each blade's personal bubble. It's peaceful, quiet. The perfect place to spend eternity in, if only Zelos could. Down and by the river of life, the Aegis can hear the pulsating stream of information flowing outside of his awakening, but it's not like he can do anything about it, or send anything through it--first of all, there would be no one to receive any packages if he did. So to suddenly receive a package like this, so urgently delivered to his port?
That's a new one.
First things first, Zelos takes the data package, keeps it safe while he pings the outside world. He's still reconfiguring, and it'll be a long while before he can actually resonate, but--the action lands him two very similar signals outside, both in equal strength and proximity. Warm, familiar, safe. One of these will be his new driver. Try as he might, though, Zelos can't quite make them out. But they both feel like Sheena, at least. Architect, Zelos hopes at least one of them is Sheena.
He keeps his port open, then, ready to ping and resonate and reform whenever his repairs complete themselves. He makes a cautious check on that--he's somewhere around 59% right now, apparently. That's a start.
Oh, well. Without further ado, Zelos opens the package--
「 Message Received. 」
--and sees a path, coordinates, green on pink, terrain conditions, calculations, time predictions, green on pink, a quick summary of an experiment and the glow of two crystals, green on pink, green on pink, green on pink, the phantom pains of individuality, horror, desire, need, the cannon, the cannon, the cannon--
Pink on green.
A name.
Seymour Guado.
「 Disconnected from sender. 」
The simulacra furrows his brows, face twitching ever so slightly as he parses the information within seconds. Fingers curling into fists, breathing quickening as he lets go of the package, processes what he's seen. This is a cry for help. Who sent it, Zelos does not know, but--for them to have any sort of power down here at the bottom of the network, then it must be an Aegis. Colette? No, this voice is too impersonal. Martel? It could be.
Shaking still, Zelos makes a choice. Desperately, a millisecond after reading the package, Zelos pings out there in the sea of consciousnesses of the network. Their signal, it must still remain down here. It frays and recedes away, but as soon as Zelos finds something that meets his criteria, he reaches forward, latches onto it without a second word, and--
DON'T THINK SO ALSO I REALLY DID MAKE HER WAIT AND HOPE
That's a new one.
First things first, Zelos takes the data package, keeps it safe while he pings the outside world. He's still reconfiguring, and it'll be a long while before he can actually resonate, but--the action lands him two very similar signals outside, both in equal strength and proximity. Warm, familiar, safe. One of these will be his new driver. Try as he might, though, Zelos can't quite make them out. But they both feel like Sheena, at least. Architect, Zelos hopes at least one of them is Sheena.
He keeps his port open, then, ready to ping and resonate and reform whenever his repairs complete themselves. He makes a cautious check on that--he's somewhere around 59% right now, apparently. That's a start.
Oh, well. Without further ado, Zelos opens the package--
--and sees a path, coordinates, green on pink, terrain conditions, calculations, time predictions, green on pink, a quick summary of an experiment and the glow of two crystals, green on pink, green on pink, green on pink, the phantom pains of individuality, horror, desire, need, the cannon, the cannon, the cannon--
Pink on green.
A name.
Seymour Guado.
The simulacra furrows his brows, face twitching ever so slightly as he parses the information within seconds. Fingers curling into fists, breathing quickening as he lets go of the package, processes what he's seen. This is a cry for help. Who sent it, Zelos does not know, but--for them to have any sort of power down here at the bottom of the network, then it must be an Aegis. Colette? No, this voice is too impersonal. Martel? It could be.
Shaking still, Zelos makes a choice. Desperately, a millisecond after reading the package, Zelos pings out there in the sea of consciousnesses of the network. Their signal, it must still remain down here. It frays and recedes away, but as soon as Zelos finds something that meets his criteria, he reaches forward, latches onto it without a second word, and--
「 ZELOS_FEHU_TETHEALLA:> Who are you? 」