[ Yeah, little buddy. He knows. But Simon takes the knife, before Meddy can change their mind about it. ] That’s good. Thanks.
[ He raises his right hand over the tubes and cables that run into Daylight’s... heart thing, holding the knife at practically a 90-degree angle and already cringing away from what he’s doing. In full adherence to the ‘rip off the bandaid’ philosophy, he jams the blade into his palm and slices, hard, with a hiss of pain.
Simon curls his hand into a hard fist, breathing through his teeth, or at least making a sound like he is doing that. What pours from the wound is... slightly more viscous than blood, tarry-black and shiny like crude oil. ] —ghh— let’s hope this works.
[ yes he knew better than to say that before Meddy brought him the knife.
Even before he’s finished speaking, structure gel is seeping into divets and crawling over tubing and cracked glass like something alive, drawn to areas of damage as soon as it hits the inside of Daylight’s chassis. Even where any defects are invisible to the naked eye, the way it distributes itself, hair-thin like roots or lightning in some places and a full coating of the stuff over particular segments of pipes and tubing, is erratic but clearly not random.
Almost immediately it solidifies whenever it settles into silvery-black, industrial metal that looks very similar to the odd ivy-like tendrils on Simon’s suit and would absolutely ruin Day’s color scheme if any of this were meant to be seen. But it spreads out to repair every broken connection it finds, and within a minute the glass chamber is sealed entirely, damaged tubing fixed and fortified, containing the currents that run through them so that strobes of electricity are no longer escaping the cables.
cw: self harm??
[ He raises his right hand over the tubes and cables that run into Daylight’s... heart thing, holding the knife at practically a 90-degree angle and already cringing away from what he’s doing. In full adherence to the ‘rip off the bandaid’ philosophy, he jams the blade into his palm and slices, hard, with a hiss of pain.
Simon curls his hand into a hard fist, breathing through his teeth, or at least making a sound like he is doing that. What pours from the wound is... slightly more viscous than blood, tarry-black and shiny like crude oil. ] —ghh— let’s hope this works.
[ yes he knew better than to say that before Meddy brought him the knife.
Even before he’s finished speaking, structure gel is seeping into divets and crawling over tubing and cracked glass like something alive, drawn to areas of damage as soon as it hits the inside of Daylight’s chassis. Even where any defects are invisible to the naked eye, the way it distributes itself, hair-thin like roots or lightning in some places and a full coating of the stuff over particular segments of pipes and tubing, is erratic but clearly not random.
Almost immediately it solidifies whenever it settles into silvery-black, industrial metal that looks very similar to the odd ivy-like tendrils on Simon’s suit and would absolutely ruin Day’s color scheme if any of this were meant to be seen. But it spreads out to repair every broken connection it finds, and within a minute the glass chamber is sealed entirely, damaged tubing fixed and fortified, containing the currents that run through them so that strobes of electricity are no longer escaping the cables.
...hopeful, albeit strained: ] Well, it’s doing something.