In some ways, it makes it more difficult to kill someone when their hands are in your internals. If you don't care about damage, however, it makes it very easy, and harder for them to get away. It's a calculation V1 is making on a subconscious level, and consciously choosing to ignore; it's not as if they can turn off the parts that keep them alive, that would be stupid. But it can make its own choices about what's a dangerous situation or not.
(SUGGESTED COURSE OF ACTION: Knuckleblaster module to target head, fire. Wait for cooldown, fire. Repeat until threat is neutralized.)
It's aware that the stimulation it's feeling is the result of old damage. An error, a flaw that was never fully healed. There is no thrill in that, but there is a strange pleasure in someone finding it and choosing not to deepen it, to remind it that the flaw remains without reopening the wound. Something soothing where there would usually, inevitably, be pain.
Pain is such an ever-present part of its life; whether the panic characteristic of starving (and though it does not have a stomach, its organs will fail without blood to sustain them; it adds a visceral, organic edge to its need for fuel, for sustenance) or the more simple, straightforward pain of combat. Having little to no pain at all is a baffling experience.
It stretches in his arms, languidly rubbing that sensitive spot against his fingers as it works out the kinks in its spine, sending pleasant sparks through the organic components of its brain. Its systems are nearly singing, humming and vibrating around the angel's fingers as Gabriel continues to sort out cables and untangle knots in its musculature.
It places a hand on Gabriel's arm, not to guide him anywhere - the touch is surprisingly delicate, feather-light - but simply because it can.
Yes, it understands now. It's not exactly the same way as a human would feel it, or even an angel, probably, it knows nothing about the insides of angels apart from how their blood tastes - but it's marked intimacy as worth the vulnerability.
no subject
(SUGGESTED COURSE OF ACTION: Knuckleblaster module to target head, fire. Wait for cooldown, fire. Repeat until threat is neutralized.)
It's aware that the stimulation it's feeling is the result of old damage. An error, a flaw that was never fully healed. There is no thrill in that, but there is a strange pleasure in someone finding it and choosing not to deepen it, to remind it that the flaw remains without reopening the wound. Something soothing where there would usually, inevitably, be pain.
Pain is such an ever-present part of its life; whether the panic characteristic of starving (and though it does not have a stomach, its organs will fail without blood to sustain them; it adds a visceral, organic edge to its need for fuel, for sustenance) or the more simple, straightforward pain of combat. Having little to no pain at all is a baffling experience.
It stretches in his arms, languidly rubbing that sensitive spot against his fingers as it works out the kinks in its spine, sending pleasant sparks through the organic components of its brain. Its systems are nearly singing, humming and vibrating around the angel's fingers as Gabriel continues to sort out cables and untangle knots in its musculature.
It places a hand on Gabriel's arm, not to guide him anywhere - the touch is surprisingly delicate, feather-light - but simply because it can.
Yes, it understands now. It's not exactly the same way as a human would feel it, or even an angel, probably, it knows nothing about the insides of angels apart from how their blood tastes - but it's marked intimacy as worth the vulnerability.