There was a strange, quiet comfort in the sensation. Across a desolate, endless empty space where silence was the only company to be had, the shell had become a companion. It hummed against his ribs with a steady, possessive warmth, urging him toward an integration he consistently refused. To yield to it, to let the consciousness inside the alloy drink him in would shatter his neutrality plan for it, lighting up a beacon bright enough for worlds to notice quickly just like himself
As for how the armor had awakened, Tweet could not truly say. It had rested against him since the day of its gifting, so deeply integrated over the long years that he had slowly forgotten it was there at all, mistaking the heavy plating for the natural contours of his own skin.
That all changed the day a faint, alien brush grazed the edge of his awareness. The birth of the armor's consciousness had sparked the very breakthrough he needed.
