#first sentinel

Weak.

Bodies fall to the ground, fragmented in a messy mosaic of fleshy sinew.

Weak.

Throats, mutilated; sometimes ruptured by the precise point of a claw, sometimes torn out with voracious fangs.

They all bled a deeper shade upon her shell. She needed it. If they bled enough, maybe she could somehow paint over the image of the Sentinel’s face in her head with their blood.

Their blood would cleanse her.

She was so, so pathetically weak.

The worst part?

The first sapient bug she ran into, she couldn’t kill it. Not immediately.

She had hesitated.

She had hesitated.

What did that Sentinel do to her, to ruin her so?

WeakweakweakweakweakweakweakweakWEAKWEAKWEAK—

…

How long had it been since she had started this crusade? Three days? Four? Longer?

She has not slept. She cannot sleep, knowing that anything or anyone could pick her off with this… sickness, of hers.

She needed to cleanse herself of this inability, she had decided — right there, in that awful cage of the Wisp Thicket, when she had finally freed herself. She saw the wideness of the world shining down on her after her days spent with the Sentinel, and realized, for once in her life, that she was in danger. This weakness of hers exposed her shell. With it, anything that so desired could extinguish her life at a moment’s notice.

It was nice there, wasn’t it? WEAK.

And so, she blazed a bloody warpath, the corpses of many bugs, big and small, sapient or not, marking her trail, starting there in the Thicket, and leading her back here, to the Citadel halls. Where she had learned strength. Where she would learn it again.

Things were so easy with Third, though, weren't they? For that short while. WEAKWEAKWEAKWEAK—

…

(...When did she start thinking so clearly?)

…

Her hunt must continue. She needed to purify herself of her failing. Of the Sentinel’s ghost.

This wasn’t about finding the next meal; not anymore. This was a rite of passage. To ensure her survival.

She needed more, lest she lose the road and be torn to shreds.

...

(...But she was so, so tired...) ...

Report: evacuated Songclave to the Slab, this sentinel has. Upon arrival, a bug handed out blankets and tea for warmth.

How fare your efforts?

- @sentinel-thefirst (yes, this be my main blog. :3 )

Understood

A-awaiting orders from th-th-the eldest. Eternal i-is the citadel.

@sentinel-third

Th-third of make? Surprised, is this s-s-sentinel, to have found you so s-soon. Was n-n-not anticipated, but a wel-welcome sight regardless.

It would s-seem you are in need of re-repairs also, p-p-perhaps more so than this sentinel. Voice box is d-damaged just as this s-s-sentinel's is, and your limbs are stiff and r-rusted...

Seeking current A-Architect, this sentinel al-already was, but now such t-task seems far more vital. Not for it, but for third of m-m-make.

For the m-moment, this sentinel advises th-th-that third of make does not engage in c-combat or strain itself. This sentinel shall a-a-alert third of make when Architect is l-located.

Hmm.

@third-sentinel

...Confused, i-is this sentinel.

There a-a-appears to be another third of m-make, one that is un-un-undamaged.

You are strikingly s-similar to the third of make this s-s-sentinel conversed with earlier...yet this sentinel feels you are d-different. This is intriguing...

...Functional, is this s-sentinel's shell, yes. Only its voice box is damaged. Third of m-make from before is far w-w-w-worse for wear than this sentinel, however. The damage to both its inner and o-outer shell is something that m-must be remedied.

If additional third of m-make...sixth of make...?

[The First Sentinel clicked and whirred at the sight of the other sentinel, tilting its head as it examined the sentinel "Eribel" before it. It looked like how the First Sentinel remembered second of make, yet they mentioned...parents? In a way, the Architects who created each of the five could be considered the "parents" of the sentinels, though they never referred to them as such. Not from what the First Sentinel could remember that is.]

I-intriguing. You resemble s-s-second of make, yet you seem...different. You lack second of m-make's stutter and hesitance. You speak with c-confidence and call yourself "E-Eribel."

...Confused, is this s-s-s-sentinel, and curious. Who are y-you, second of make yet n-not? And...p-parents? Is that what you c-call your creators?

. . .