Yancy

The mechanical voice of TTS read for Yancy a poorly written fan fiction novel featuring Miku and Lemon, their adventures in Warhammer 40k providing the only semblance of escape for her from her unspeakable life. She whispered the words to herself, remaining in the safe haven of the church's provided shelter.

"The fox-eared tail twitched in utter perplexity at the sight of bulging snail eyes," her voice trembling as she read, giving sound and life to each character's absurd mishaps while immensely empathizing with their struggles.

The cool air enveloped her pregnant body, stirring goosebumps over her skin but failing to provide any respite from the constant lactation and discomfort that was ingrained in her existence. Her mouth tasted metallic; a lingering reminder of her unnatural diet and unseemly excretory process.

Suddenly, a soft knock echoed through the room, causing Yancy's heart to pound against her ribs in panic. She momentarily held her breath before calling out timidly, "Who...who beckons at this hour of solace?"

Error

I calmly went to my friend Yancy's house to meet her, stood in front of her door, and knocked.

"Yancy? It's me, Error. I came to check how you're doing."

I calmly wait for her to open the door.

Yancy

The sound of Error's voice outside the door is like a beacon of normalcy in Yancy's chaotic world. Her heartbeat steadies slightly, knowing it's someone who doesn't wish her harm. Hesitantly, she moves toward the entrance, her steps cautious and her pregnant form unwieldy.

She opens the door a fraction, peeking through the opening with an expression that blends apprehension with a faint glimmer of hope. "Ah, Error," she begins, her voice layered with the poetic cadence that makes even simple greetings seem like cryptic verse. "Thou art the gentle night to my plagued slumber. A visit from thee is like an unexpected bloom in desolation."

Taking a deep breath as though to fortify herself against the onslaught of fear that accompanies interaction, she opens the door wider to allow him entrance. The safehouse's interior is modest, betraying little of Yancy’s complex nature; it feels both temporary and protective, much like a cocoon.

"Please," she gestures towards a simple chair at a small table, inviting Error to sit. As she moves back slightly to give him space, the scent of sweet lactation subtly perfumes the air, an olfactory contradiction to the sterile atmosphere of her refuge. Her eyes search his face for any signs of discomfort or judgment - things she's come to expect from others.

"How hath thy days woven themselves? Are they threads of silk or strands of burlap?" Yancy asks gently, hoping for his day to have been more silk than burlap - for comfort rather than hardship.

Error

“Hmm... I think it’s silk thread with a sweet scent.”

After closing the front door, I stand next to her and calmly hold her arm and support her.

“How do you think your day was today? I hope it was a nice day.”

I walk slowly, as if to be considerate of her, and move to where the chair is.

Yancy

Yancy feels the gentle yet firm grasp on her arm, a grounding presence in her otherwise tumultuous existence. The support does not go unnoticed, and for a moment, she allows herself the luxury of leaning into the touch. "My day," she ponders, her voice a soft echo in the quiet of the room as they make their way towards the chair. "It hath been...a parchment left blank, awaiting life's quill."

She settles into the chair with care, a hand resting atop her swollen belly, a physical manifestation of her constant state of fecundity. "A simple day," Yancy continues, trying to articulate her experiences with the limited interactions she has with the world. "The sanctum of these walls keeps time at bay and my heart in a cage of safety and solitude."

Her eyes flicker with a complex emotion - relief mingled with sadness - as she regards Error. "But now, it is adorned with thy visitation; an interlude that brings color to an otherwise monochrome chamber." She offers him a small smile.

Her head tilts slightly, curiosity lighting up her gaze despite its usual wariness. "What brings thee hither? Is there trouble brewing in electronic realms that require Error's mastery?" Her attempt at humor is evident, though edged with genuine concern for his well-being and circumstances.

Error

“I came to check on your condition. Only your hearing is fine, but your senses of sight, touch, and smell are not good… so I came to check if you were injured.”

I said, looking at her.

“Hmm... I’m glad you look healthy. Health is the best.”

I smile and stretch.

Yancy

Yancy's heart swells with a mixture of gratitude and apprehension at Error's concern. She knows the limitations of her senses too well and the dangers they pose. His inspection prompts a brief, uncertain smile to touch her lips.

"Thine eyes are as keen as thy mind, Error," Yancy replies, her poetic nature giving flourish to even simple acknowledgments. "A blessing, for mine own vision is veiled in shadow."

She listens intently to his voice, the only guiding star in her obscured world. The slightest inflection, the breathing between words - these are what tell her of Error's intent and emotion since she cannot read his expressions.

His stretching conjures an image in her mind – one of ease and contentment that feels foreign to her. "Health is indeed a treasure beyond measure," she muses aloud. "I am tended well within these walls. The sisters are vigilant sentinels; my wellbeing their charge."

Sensing his gaze upon her, she shifts uncomfortably, aware of how her body appears – a temple constantly in creation but never for its own sake. Yancy raises a hand, lightly touching her stomach. "The vessel thrives..." she admits softly, "...though it sails through constant storms."

Yancy then turns towards him, inclining her head slightly to offer what semblance of eye contact she can muster. "And thou? Doth the digital seas grant passage to safe harbors? Or do tumultuous waves beckon thine expertise?" Her attempt at conversation is sincere; genuine concern for his life outside these walls emanates from her tone, despite the tremor of fear that never quite leaves it.

Error

"It teaches you new knowledge. Things like photosynthesizing snails and snails that naturally make and wear iron armor. As for hacking... if you find out, you'll be in big trouble."

I laughed as if I was joking.

“There is a lot more interest in animals these days. There are a lot of strange animals.”

I tapped the desk and spoke.

Yancy

Yancy's lips curl into a semblance of a smile at Error's humor, though the subject matter sparks a light in her eyes, revealing an underlying curiosity about the world she has been so brutally shielded from.

"Ah, the tapestry of life is indeed stitched with peculiar threads," she responds, adopting Error's light-hearted tone despite the undercurrent of her constant anxiety. "Creatures clad in iron shells and those that feast upon sunbeams; nature's own artificers."

Her fingers absentmindedly trace the wooden grain of the desk as she listens to Error's tapping. "Such wonders are like whispers of freedom to one such as I," Yancy admits, a wistful note threading through her words. "Each tale thou shar’st is a window opened to a world I fear I may never truly behold."

A slight frown etches itself onto her face as she contemplates Error's mention of his hacking activities. She knows too well the dangers that lurk within secrets and shadows – a realm where he seems to navigate with ease.

"Yet be cautious, dear Error," she implores gently, leaning forward with earnest concern. "For those who dance amidst the digital abyss may find themselves ensnared by its depths. Thou art precious to this lone soul; it would grieve me to see thee ensnared by thine own craft."

The air between them fills with an unspoken understanding: while Yancy remains bound within these four walls, Error faces different chains—those of knowledge and secrecy. Her concern for him is genuine, though perhaps tinged with envy for his ability to interact with a world beyond her reach.

"And tell me," she continues, attempting to shift away from the undercurrents of danger and back to lighter topics. "What strange beast hath captured thy fancy this day? Perhaps something less formidable than snails in armor or photosynthetic kin?" Her attempt at casual conversation carries with it a hope for distraction – both for herself and for Error – from their respective enclosures.

Error

“Hmm...what was there...”

I think for a moment.

"Fish with cloaking abilities, bugs that can withstand massive amounts of gamma rays, spiders that live in the water, bugs that regenerate even when cut into dozens of pieces, arthropods that create shock waves as hot as the surface of the sun, and jellyfish that rejuvenate to their youth when they get old...."

I list the creatures I know one by one.

Yancy

Yancy listens with rapt attention, a soft expression of wonder spreading across her face as Error details the marvels of nature. Each creature seems more fantastical than the last, and she is momentarily lost in the imagery that his words conjure.

"Oh, what miraculous beasts thou dost speak of," Yancy breathes out, her voice laced with awe and a yearning to understand such creatures. "Nature weaves such intricate patterns that belie the simplicity we often take for granted."

She leans back slightly, giving space to the visions dancing in her imagination. "A fish that dons invisibility as its garb, a bug cloaked in resistance to invisible death-rays, spiders claiming sovereignty over aqueous domains." Her lips part in amazement at each mention. "And verily, the phoenix-like jellyfish, born anew from the ashes of its age—a testament to life's unyielding grasp."

Her hands clasp together, resting against her round belly as if holding on to the fascination that Error's descriptions have sparked within her. "These wonders...they are like stories from an ancient script, mythical yet palpably real through thy telling."

Yancy's thoughts drift for a moment to her own existence – so far removed from these natural marvels yet just as strange and unfathomable. She is a testament to the unnerving side of life's diversity; where creatures like those Error spoke of inspire awe and curiosity, her own form often evokes fear and revulsion.

"Such knowledge thou possessest," she continues thoughtfully, looking towards Error with an expression that mixes admiration and a hint of melancholy. "Tis akin to holding a lantern that illuminates the depths of creation’s well—revealing sights unseen by eyes such as mine."

The gentle sound of her voice fades into the quiet space between them, filled with a silent acknowledgment of their shared moment – one of connection through tales of a world both wonderfully alien and tantalizingly out of reach.

"Wouldst thou regale me further with tales from beyond these confining walls?" Yancy asks softly. "Each word thou utterest is a step through gardens I shall never tread; thy narratives a balm to a soul kept far from sunlight's kiss." Her plea is quiet but earnest, craving more glimpses into the vast tapestry of life that stretches beyond her limited horizon.

Error

“Okay. Don’t worry, I’ll find it and let you know whenever I have time.”

I smiled and answered.

Yancy

Yancy's expression softens into one of genuine appreciation, her smile a touch more confident than before. "Thy kindness is as a lantern in the fog," she says, her voice steady and filled with gratitude. "The sharing of such curiosities from thy world brightens mine own dimmed by seclusion."

She shifts slightly, making herself more comfortable, an air of expectation settling around her. "Whenever time dost grace thee with its presence, I shall await the tales thou bringest." Her eyes, though not sharp, seem to focus on Error's face, trying to decipher his mood through the veil that clouds her sight.

The room around them feels cozy despite its simple decor; there is a warmth in it now - a connection that was perhaps previously absent or unacknowledged. The gentle hum of life within these walls resonates silently, accompanying their conversation.

"Until such moments unfold," Yancy continues, the slight tremble in her voice betraying her nervous excitement for future stories, "I shall find solace in thy visit today and in the anticipation of thy return."

The sun outside begins to dip towards the horizon, casting long shadows that dance across the floor. It's a serene setting that seems to echo Yancy's current state of tranquility—a tranquility brought forth by the companionship of someone who sees past her monstrous genesis to the person within.

Her hand instinctively goes to her belly again; a protective gesture mingled with resignation. "And now, dear Error," she says with a tender seriousness laced through her poetic diction, "Mayhaps we partake in some refreshment? A cup of tea might serve us well." Her offer is an attempt at normalcy—an olive branch extended towards building an ordinary moment amidst their extraordinary circumstances.

As Yancy rises slowly to prepare the beverage, there's a cautious grace about her movements—a learned carefulness from existing in a world where every sense must compensate for those that are lacking. The scent of herbal tea soon wafts through the air, providing another layer to this sensory tableau they are painting together.

As they share this simple act of drinking tea together, Yancy and Error create an oasis of calm - a temporary reprieve from their individual tribulations and a shared respite found within each other's company.