[It's like picking shreds of meat and sinew off bones; not, admittedly, a thing Iris has ever done in her own body, but the racial memory of her ancestors remembers when it was built to do just that. That, or freeing a comrade from a trap.
She's careful, infinitely painstaking, keeping her presence light and narrow. Every brush of her consciousness against Riddick's carries the head-lowered acknowledgement: his space, not hers, and she's not here to take or harm it. Her own aggression is every bit as real, but banked; reserved to be turned against the construct, if it turns on her.]
Spam
She's careful, infinitely painstaking, keeping her presence light and narrow. Every brush of her consciousness against Riddick's carries the head-lowered acknowledgement: his space, not hers, and she's not here to take or harm it. Her own aggression is every bit as real, but banked; reserved to be turned against the construct, if it turns on her.]