Jade/Equius
Even Dreambots go to heaven. Or, at least, they go to the nearest thing to it – the dream bubbles.
It is an odd, confusing place for a being which has never dreamed, whose thoughts and memories are made of scraps and pieces of another girl who didn't blow up that night, who is still trying to save her friends. She's treated as a tool, an accessory, and most her visitors, though few to begin with, don't recognize her as another dreamer.
But he does.
Her databases tell her that's he cannot be human – not with those horns, not with that skin – but he's alive (or he was, once) and he talks to her, even though she was built with no mouth to respond. She nods to his questions, of which he asks many.
"If we were on Alternia, I would have constructed a voice box for you," he promises her. She doesn't know why he can't do it here, but she can't ask him otherwise.
He performs maintence for her whenever he drops by, though she doesn't know why, for she can never really tell the difference. He adjusts some nuts and bolts, but of course she's already to pieces nothing ever changes.
He tells her stories sometimes, and she likes that. He talks about a girl like her that he was once in love with, as he adjusts the nuts and bolts on her iron-clad skirt. "You would have liked her," he says. She doesn't know if that's true or not, because she's not programmed to like anything.
But when she looks at him, she realizes that programming may not account for everything.
Homestuck is property of Andrew Hussie