[The idea had been planted long ago, after the first successful transferrence they had shared and now it was coming to fruition. Had anyone ever attempted to bond so closely with a cephalon before? The question would perhaps go forever unanswered, but what had been done would never be undone. Never be forgotten.
Sharing a space so intimate with his Operator had been overwhelming in the best possible way, and Ordis felt no shame over what had transpired. Wasn't their coupling the sign of the truest possible way he could love his Operator? It was, he was certain, and to see that fire burning within the man, to feel skin beneath fingertips, it was a memory that he would never shatter.
It would seem strange that a cephalon could feel fear, it wouldn't serve at all for a program that was supposed to serve as the primary control for an orbital ship, but there's a distinct sense of nervousness as he pulls away from the controls of the orbiter. With each system he withdraws from it feels as though his senses are being stripped. Trust, he had to trust his Operator, he always trusted his Operator. This would work, it would be a new way for them to share the bond between them.
He almost says something, almost reaches out to his Operator for reassurance, but no he steels himself and reminds himself to be strong. Everything will work out, he has faith, and when the first tinges of the uplink reach towards him he allows himself to fall.
It's a rush, even more than the somatics had been, and for a moment he's nowhere, lost in the void blind and deaf to his surroundings. And then there's weigh, he feels so heavy, leaden and foreign as the world comes to. Small, he feels small. Small, heavy, strange.
He doesn't attempt to move, not just yet, but instead merely lies there against the floor of the liset, feeling cool air cycle through him, through lungs that he hasn't used for so many thousands of years.]
no subject
Sharing a space so intimate with his Operator had been overwhelming in the best possible way, and Ordis felt no shame over what had transpired. Wasn't their coupling the sign of the truest possible way he could love his Operator? It was, he was certain, and to see that fire burning within the man, to feel skin beneath fingertips, it was a memory that he would never shatter.
It would seem strange that a cephalon could feel fear, it wouldn't serve at all for a program that was supposed to serve as the primary control for an orbital ship, but there's a distinct sense of nervousness as he pulls away from the controls of the orbiter. With each system he withdraws from it feels as though his senses are being stripped. Trust, he had to trust his Operator, he always trusted his Operator. This would work, it would be a new way for them to share the bond between them.
He almost says something, almost reaches out to his Operator for reassurance, but no he steels himself and reminds himself to be strong. Everything will work out, he has faith, and when the first tinges of the uplink reach towards him he allows himself to fall.
It's a rush, even more than the somatics had been, and for a moment he's nowhere, lost in the void blind and deaf to his surroundings. And then there's weigh, he feels so heavy, leaden and foreign as the world comes to. Small, he feels small. Small, heavy, strange.
He doesn't attempt to move, not just yet, but instead merely lies there against the floor of the liset, feeling cool air cycle through him, through lungs that he hasn't used for so many thousands of years.]