It all adds up (SEVEN)

[Khralse]

The heavy frame chugged along, each footstep punctuated by a hiss and creak as the machine took step after step. The body seemed to bounce slightly, each step almost a jump to propel the heavy body forward. The lands of Elim were a mess to say the least. A dead landscape, open wastelands and shifted dirt, ridged that once held roots eroded into shallow dunes and lumps, dust and light brown, rocky turf. This place might have been beautiful once, but now it was the tomb of the unrecoverable, the final resting place of that which can never again be attained. "ALWAYS DEATH..."

The heavy footfalls stopped, an outline appeared before Ashmantle's ancient eyes. It was... a human? Humanoid in form, but even at this distance his eyes and the machine spirits dancing within them could tell it was a human. The dreadnought moved quickly, clanking and hissing and charging until he was within shouting distance before slowing back to his original pace. "HAIL! WHO GOES THERE?"

[BASS GUY~!]

If the winds were any harsher and colder against the poor boy who now wandered through the waste of what was once no doubt a forest, Seven was quick to brush his dark hair back, his silver eyes peering through to scan the horizon ahead. Not long ago, he'd calculated that he might be able to find something that would assist his survival rate in this place, but now he found that perhaps he missed a few variables. His long torn labcoat showed exactly where dirt and dust clung, and was thick enough to keep his otherwise bare chest warm, and his long pants were equally covered in the filth of the earth, but at this point those variables were only minuscule in comparison to the number now buzzing, anticipating that this haze that perpetually hung around was limiting vision and hearing by approximately 45.83%, and his movement was now being hampered by roughly 25.92%, his mind racing as the numbers assaulted him.

He wondered perhaps, as his stomach growled, if he would die of hunger out here in this waste, his eyes scanning around, and finding a large hulking machine suddenly there, just at the reach of his clouded vision. He wasn't sure what it wanted, or where it had come from; though, he approximated it came from the east, since it was following him west. Seven made sure to take larger steps away, a little apprehensive about approaching any looming shadow; sadly, he mis-stepped and slipped, falling over and groaning as he coughed up some dirt that had fallen to his mouth.

-Bleck- he spat, probably one of the closest sounds he'd ever get to English at this point in time as he scolded the dirt for being in his way; this whole place was unpredictable. Remembering the machine behind him, he turned around and glared at it from his place, and then rose.
{191513052008091407 0919 061512121523091407 1305. 1506 011212 200805 220118090102120519...7.92%...}¹ he grumbled, now turning to face it.

¹"Something is following me. Of all the variables... 7.92%..."

[Khralse]

The heavy dreadnought heard the string of numbers and paused, the machine spirits working quickly through the many options available. Ancient Terra numerical codes ran through his brain from the cogitators within the sarcophagus. "ANALYZING..." Bray'arth took a few steps closer to the person, they were clearly human but spoke in a numerical code. "I UNDERSTAND YOU." His manner of speech was interesting, even after decrypting the codes. "ARE YOU MECHANICUS? I CAN SEE YOU ARE HUMAN."

The heavy form drew closer, each step a jolting, herky-jerky lurch as the hydraulics pushed him closer. "I MEAN YOU NO HARM, WHAT ARE YOU DOING OUT HERE?" Ashmantle didn't look like someone who'd mean no harm, but he moved closer still, until he was about two meters away, towering over Seven and looking down at him.

[BASS GUY~!]

It could understand him. Of all the possibilities in this forsaken world, something could not only understand him, but was asking him questions, and he could understand it. All of it. Seven almost welled up in tears as he raced to that machine, the numbers buzzing in his head as he mentally learned all the numbers surrounding this strange individual talking pile of metal.

{You can definately understand me then!?} he called, getting closer as the numbers erupted from his lips through a soft wind, and he honestly couldn't have been happier in all his short life; because he'd always struggled with people and talking till now, never finding anyone who could speak until now. His mind pounded but for once he disregarded it, and even as the numbers pressed against him like a heavy weight, he found that he felt so pain-free that he was tempted to voluntarily calculate every little thing about this world he could possibly calculate from this point, and even though it would nearly kill him in this state of sheer joy he wouldn't feel it!

{I can't believe it! I can understand you! Someone understands me!} he shouted out loud, obviously showing this joy as much as possible as he finally reached that machine, running up and kissing it's chassis. {You have no idea how strange all the people are here! They all just use strange noises and half numbers to talk!} he tried to explain as best he could, recalling occasions he'd had to deal with people who he couldn't even begin to comprehend.

[Khralse]

The man grabbed onto the dreadnought's chassis, Ashmantle kept himself still to avoid hurting him. He knew well the power of this body and knew he'd need to handle the stranger the way you'd handle an origami crane. "MY COGITATORS CAN TRANSLATE YOUR NUMBERS INTO HIGH GOTHIC, BUT DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME?" The dreadnought looked at the man, helmed head turning slowly and regarding the man carefully. "WHAT IS YOUR NAME, ARE YOU MECHANICUS?"

It was possible that this man was a lost techpriest, they spoke in sciences and calculations just as fluidly as they did low or high gothic. His machine spirits could not find any trace of mechanicus tech on this man.. Sensors swept over him, scanning and feeding subtle information. The Iron Dragon was a marvel of a Sarcophagus, though the information it provided could easily be too much... Ashmantle regarded the terrain again, the open and dead wastelands around them.

[BASS GUY~!]

Seven hugged the machine incoherently, seemingly ignoring it, muttering the numbers about being understood and not being alone in this world. What likely couldn't be seen were the wild eyes that leaked tears, the un-even manner of speech, his lack of comprehension and the smile that seemed almost too happy; a painting that stopped him from breaking down under the weight of the numbers in his mind, and cracks were starting to appear as he stepped back with that insane grin.
{I will love you and feed you and call you Scrappy. And we will frollic in this wonderful garden here and spend our days dying of starvation!} he told the machine somewhat madly, his eyes unfocused and seeming a little dilated.

He took a few more steps, reaching for the leg of this giant machine in front of him, the numbers in his head buzzing around out of control. His headache was suddenly growing worse and his steps forward were staggered and getting weaker. Seven's right knee buckled under his weight as the aforementioned hunger in his gut began to eat at him. All the numbers in his head suddenly seemed quiet compared to the countdown to Zero in his head, and he found himself mumbling madly about the atrocities of pens and pencils and needles and labcoats and numbers and people and the general world about him.

[Khralse]

Most of what he said, when translated by the cogitators, was offensive. However, it was apparent that he was suffering from exposure, even without scanning him. "YOU REQUIRE MEDICAL ATTENTION." The Dreadnought carefully moved one of his claws, lifting Seven gingerly from the ground and rotating his limb until it was completely outstretched before him. "THERE IS A CITY WITHIN A REACHABLE PROXIMITY, I SHALL BACKTRACK, THEY WILL TREAT YOU." With a few shuffling and somewhat jerky movements, Bray'Arth turned around and began to stomp back the way he came rather quickly. "YOU MUST REST, I SHALL BRING YOU SALVATION."

His pace was quick, heavy footfalls in rapid succession. Ashmantle's limbs were somewhat awkward, both in placement and functionality, but they allowed him to hold Seven in relative comfort and without risk of injury as he trundled quickly back towards Essancee. They would be able to nurse him back to health, at least. He had just met this one person in the wasteland, and while he had seen death and war beyond comprehension, he would not turn a blind eye to those who need help.

[BASS GUY~!]

{Can you see it, Scrappy? All the numbers... closing on that silly little Zero! Only... it's getting bigger and bigger as the numbers fade. All of them. Am I dying Scrappy? I can't tell. But I hurt all over. And I know my hunger is at 0.35%... Do you get hungry too, Scrappy? I'll feed you some nice whatever-it-is you eat if my numbers stay above zero! he murmured half mad; it was impossible to tell if he was simply suffering from a mad episode, or the hunger had in fact pushed him over the edge. The large city in the distance however, was clearly visible now as the machine seemed to plunk along steadily, carrying the half lifeless young teenager in it's steady, clawed arms. Seven began to wonder abut his chances of survival, a moment of sanity suddenly taking him by surprise as he registered there was a growing possibility, thanks to 'Scrappy'. He gave it a small smile and then closed his eyes, his stomach almost rivalling the crushing headache in pain at this point; but he would not give in, but try to concentrate as he wondered distinctly how many cogs this thing ran on, his new 'pet' that had suddenly come to his rescue.
{ What a good little Scrappy you are. } came the numbered words from his lips, his face strangely looking lucid and calm in the mechanical Juggernauts arms. He wasn't entirely sure what would happen, despite numbers trying to predict it. But he could barely think even of numbers at this point, his own numerals all slowing and sliding into that deadlocked and dreaded point of no return. 'Zero'.