Hypothermia isn't a concern when you're made of metal.[Completed]

[Strazio Rockwell]

As Valerie watched Rasteva remove their hand he let loose a surprised sigh. This was certainly a new one. A sentient shadow inhabiting a suit of armor, strange things indeed. But, Valerie supposed, that was why he preferred the Omniverse over his home. There was always something new to be discovered, some eldritch secret hiding beneath rocks or a foreign being inhabiting a suit of armor as though it were skin. That raised the question, did the armor act as a true skin, or was Rasteva unable to feel anything physical? Could he not feel the chill in the air, or the warmth of the fire? What about the scent of flowers or the delights of a sumptuous meal? These questions swirled through Valerie’s brain at a breakneck speed, but he chose not to ask them. He seemed it rude to ask such personal questions, not that he figured Rasteva would necessarily mind, but the armored sentinel was keen on asking its own questions and Valerie was more than happy to answer.

“I appreciate your concern for my well-being Rasteva,” he offered a smile and waved his hand, “I’m plenty warm, and sunlight is the only sustenance I require, though I can choose to consume physical food if I wish, it is largely for pleasure.” Valerie paused, but before Rasteva could continue their line of questions the mage added, “before you ask, I am human, but I do believe our definitions of ‘human’ will probably vary by a reasonable amount, but that is an explanation for another time as the answer becomes quite convoluted.”

As he listened to Rasteva’s line of questioning it occurred to Val that his metal friend was “fresh-off-the-boat.” It also occurred to him that in all likelihood Rasteva was prime, his mentioning of Omni was decent proof of that. Val was no prime. His arrival was not greeted by the omnipotent creator of this world, but rather by the chirps of forest birds. He had simply fallen asleep in his own world and upon waking he found himself in the Omniverse. Not that this necessarily bothered him, he had mastered the art of going with the flow to such a degree that even a river would be hard pressed to beat him. The mage wasn’t completely sure who had summoned him, but he had a decent idea.

“Well I wouldn’t say countless like you, see this world is separated into two distinct classes, primes, like yourself, and secondaries like me,” he paused, his fingers performing their ballerina routine. He thought of how to word his next sentence properly. “You see in this world primes are not tethered by a mortal coil, yes you may die, but your death is like the smoke from this fire, ephemeral,” he said, “secondaries on the other hand do not come back from the dead unless a prime wills it, and even then I doubt those resurrected are truly the same.” Valerie looked into Rasteva’s burning eye, trying to get a sense of his reaction to this knowledge. It was like trying to read the body language of a stone wall. The mage sighed and poked at the fire, “as far as my residency, well, one could refer to me as a nomad, I yearn for a world beyond the cozy confines of a city and as such I have no permanent dwelling, though I will admit my foray into this frozen hell has not necessarily been a pleasant one, though it has had its moments."