#krill scribbles

They brought their gaze down to the figure who stooped beside them, their other hand digging strong claws into stone. Their eyes were beautiful, but disapproving. The secondary, outer layer of their eyelids lowered, brow furrowing in clear confusion, as the filmy set of primary eyelids blinked once. A chittering sound rang from their throat, clear and pretty as a bell. The sound was lovely, but the words, although in a language unfamiliar, were not.

Shoey could make a good guess of what they were trying to say.

Make up your mind, idiot, before I drag you in myself.

The marine biologist let out a laugh that was far steadier than they felt, took one (perhaps final) look at the sky, and stepped over the edge.

Humans were designed to be buoyant, but Shoey felt anything but as they plummeted into the depths with all the grace and control of a crashing car. Kelp towered around them in a forest of dark greens and greys, tangling into strands of hair, trying to hold them fast and keep them close until they drew their final breath. Shoey thrashed against them, kicking out with wild, flippered feet, knowing that it would only be a matter of time before their strength gave out-

Something swiped through the kelp patch, severing thick fronds as easily as a hot knife through butter. Hands closed around either side of their waist, hoising them into an upright position so they could better make out their surroundings.

Afty growled softly by Shoey's ear, trilling two brief notes that sounded similar to

Are you okay?

Shoey gathered themself enough to flash a brief thumbs-up, teeth gleaming through the murky light as they offered a cheesy grin. They whistled a soft tune in response. Afty relaxed their grip, clearly deciding to take that as a sign that Shoey was not in any imminent danger.

They both turned their attention to the sloping heap of rocks that rested a few tail-strokes from them. It was well-hidden, but if you peered closely you could see the dark maw of the tunnel that rested within, leading to the mer's very own lair. Shoey had burned with a desire to see it from the very moment they had learned it existed. Afty had done their best to depict the interior with the sketches they scratched into the sand, but (and Shoey had tried to put this delicately) the mermaid's art skills were crude, at best, and Shoey knew they would much rather see it with their own eyes.

Mindful of how little oxygen could be stored in their lungs, Shoey followed Afty through the entrance to the cave. The initial twists and turns of the passage were narrow, a claustrophobe's worst nightmare brought to life, and Shoey swore they could feel the thud of their heart echo off of the stone as they squeezed through each narrow corner. The only thing to take the edge off of their panic was the awe they felt as they watched Afty navigate each obstacle with eerie grace, twisting their body through the constrictive gaps in serpentine, slick movements.

Two minutes went by before Shoey realised that there might be a problem.

Already they could feel invisible fingers raking against the inside of their throat, trying to prise the esophagus open, to reach down into the lungs and claw at soft, spongy flesh. Their chest was tightening, held fast in the squeezing grip of an invisible vice. They pushed forward with strengthened determination, trying to channel the mounting anxiety into strength and speed that could get them through the tunnels before the ocean claimed their airways.

Always ahead, flitting from shadow to shadow, was Afty's pointed tail. The bone-white tip was almost like a lure, calling to them in silent mockery as Shoey tried to forge ahead through the blackening maze. Their fingertips were growing slick and numb from the algae that clung to each rock, rubbing off so easily at every errant brush of their hand.

Their sense of touch was growing dull and useless, their vision was lost in the swirling murk of the underwater passage, their nose was prickling with sea salt, their ears were filling with the percussive, weighted thump of their heart... And as Shoey opened their mouth to whistle a sharp note of warning to Afty, the acrid taste of water engulfed their tongue, filling them with the terrifyingly desperate urge to cough.

They suppressed the impulse. Barely. But already Shoey could feel blind, animal panic making itself at home in the sprawl of their nervous system, nudging at them to breathe. To cry out. To scream, even, at the fate their own recklessness had bound them to.

The path ahead stretched on for who knew how long, a labyrinth that seemed to have no end in sight. But the way back was equally far, and there was no doubt that they would perish long before they ever breached the surface. They were stranded. Held fast in the crushing embrace of the caverns, buffeted on all sides by the steady flow of water.

Through the swirling mass of black, churned up by thrashing hands and feet, Afty found them.

Shoey felt the brush of a palm against theirs and dug in, nails scraping against flesh in a desperate struggle to have something, anything pliable enough to burrow into.

The mer's song reached them, carried on a fresh wave of panic. It was gentle, swaddled in tender concern, as Afty watched their fight to keep control. Shoey nodded, then shook their head, tears melting seamlessly into the water. Wordlessly, they pointed a shaking hand to their mouth, which opened and closed like a stranded guppy's.

Afty's eyes were narrowed, caught between irritation and attentiveness.  It only took a second for realisation to dawn in their sea-slate eyes. Shoey's own had already begun to close, surrendering themself to the idea of oblivion.

At least they wouldn't have to pass on alone. At least they would have someone with them, someone to hold them close, just as their parents had all those years before-

Something cool and firm pressed itself to Shoey's lips, the sudden force grounding them as firmly as an anchor. Their eyes flew open, wide despite the stinging of sea salt. They gasped, fully expecting to feel a swirling mass of black force its way down their gullet... Only to be met with sweet, sweet oxygen.

The rush was intoxicating, relief distilled into its purest form. They inhaled until their lungs felt close to rupturing, holding it as long as they could before letting go.

Webbed fingers grazed over the curve of their cheek before settling into place, tilting their chin up slightly to better deepen the life-giving kiss. Shoey exhaled sharply, then pressed closer to greedily drink in more from the mer's mouth, uncaring of how firmly both hands squeezed around their waist. They could feel a fluttering, feathery silk brush over the top of their fingers, gills working swiftly as they drew oxygen from the water around them and filtered it into their mouth.

It was a game of give-and-take, a show of tender generosity. Another display of kindness from a mer who had already offered so much. Shoey felt their chest swell from more than just the air filling their body once more. A hand moved, brushing land-roughened fingers over a few strands of hair that flowed, tucking it tenderly behind their ear.

In a sudden rush of affection, Shoey pressed a hand to the sloping curve of the mer's back. They were pulled close, leaving no space between the two, as Afty purred out some token words of protest. No other move was made to stop Shoey, though, and they felt themself preen a little at the thought that Afty was willing to cross this unspoken boundary, together. They drew strength from one another, building on it in turn, as lips brushed over chilled skin, tongues sweeping away any errant traces of salt.

Bone-white claws scraped tenderly through Shoey's hair, brushing it up into a shock of fluff that made the human giggle low in their throat. A begrudgingly amused chuckle was the only response. How would that laughter sound once they broke the waves once more? What other noises could be coaxed from the mer, who already had an uncanny ability to make every sigh and murmur sound like the sweetest song? Shoey burned with a sudden desire to know.

It seemed like a small eternity had passed before they found it within themselves to pull away. Afty appraised them with a stern silence, their beautiful slate-grey eyes taking stock of the cheery smile that had replaced the taut, panicked line of their mouth. Shoey felt their cheeks burn from how wide their lips stretched, but they couldn't find it in themself to stop.

They whistled a long low note, wiggling their eyelashes playfully as Afty's cheeks coloured in the dim light. Their tail snapped through the water, sudden and silent as a whip, slapping them (gently) on the back of the head. Shoey rubbed at the tender spot, raising an eyebrow and wincing in mock pain.

With a single shake of their head, the mer took their hand and began to guide them onwards through the cave. The passage was no less dark, the lack of space no less crushing, but something had shifted. Shoey no longer felt so scared, with the steady presence of that sleek, graceful body beside them. Salvation was just a single kiss away.

It seems like both an eternity, and like no time at all when Shoey finally finds themselves on the visitor ward. The room is decorated in bright colours, with a children's playpen nestled in one corner. Magazines are strewn across the coffee table, right next to a carefully arranged vase filled with-

A wave of nausea rises up, and Shoey forces themself to turn away, breathing carefully through their mouth. Their eyes fall on a figure, curled in on themselves, sleeping despite the uncomfortable rigidness of the plastic waiting chair.

A familiar mop of curls frames a face that is forever etched into a terse frown. Black face mask pulled high over the bridge of their nose, beanie pulled firmly down until it kisses their eyebrows. Their arms are crossed over their chest, defensively, even as they sag forwards slightly in sleep.

Shoey can feel their heart leap into their mouth, any lingering pain chased away by the surge of butterflies that tingle in their chest, spreading out until even their fingertips begin to tingle.

"Afty," they breathe.

A tentative step, then another, treading so lightly. As if the slightest vibration might unsettle this miraculous mirage, shaking Shoey from their own slumber. Might force them to wake up from this glorious dream, leave them stranded in whatever unfortunate reality was waiting for them.

Because this had to be a dream, didn't it? There was no way Aftyn would have come for them, would have been content to wait patiently in this uncomfortable chair, surrounded by people, and bright lights, and screaming children, and-

And they were holding one of Shoey's boots in their hands. Clutched tightly, as if they couldn't bear to lose it. As if it were an anchor, keeping them weighed down.

Shoey can feel their heartbeat pounding away in their ears, as if trying to convince them that this was no mere illusion. Each breath snags in their lungs. They pass a shaking hand through their hair, a small movement that might help this feel like less of a dream.

And then a sob leaves their throat, tense and tight and hopeful, as they stagger forwards. Stopping just a few inches away from Aftyn, they reach out with a trembling hand. Gently, oh, so painfully gently, fingertips crest over the soft curve of their cheek. The skin there feels warm, as if it held a piece of the sunlight that shone determinedly outside, casting the room in a golden haze. It dapples across Aftyn's face, making them glow softly. Like some kind of sombre angel.

Shoey lets out a strangled laugh, throat bobbing around the lump that is quickly forming. It's getting harder to drink in Aftyn's features, now that their eyes are growing clouded with tears. But their fingers are content to map out their face, already tracing softly over the bridge of their nose. Then, they dart to coil a few strands of hair around each digit, marvelling at how springy and soft and alive each curl feels.

When they finally pull their hand away, blinking back the tears that threaten to spill molten hot over their cheeks, they find Aftyn's eyes boring into theirs.

Neither of them dare to speak for a moment. It all feels so fragile, this closeness: As if the entire world were spun glass, fragile and beautiful, and the slightest wrong word would shatter it all over again.

Aftyn's eyes are lingering on their face, steel-grey eyes pausing to drink in every detail, to imbibe themself on each slight contour and curve of their form. The muscles of their face are quivering, cheeks twitching minutely as if they wish to say something. To ask what they were doing out of bed, perhaps, still clad in their hospital gown and leaving a hansel-and-gretel trail of bloodstains behind them.

Instead, Shoey breaks the silence first.

"Hey, stranger.”

As their surprise visitor sits up, blinking the uneasy sleep from their eyes, Shoey traced their tongue over shaking lips. Each word felt like a concentrated effort, so at odds with their normally easy, rambling way of speaking.

“This isn't a dream, is it? Because that would suck pretty hard, considering everything that just happened." Their hand reaches out again, unable to resist, as it gently cups Aftyn's face.

Afty allows it, shockingly. Their only protest is their urge to look away, eyes instead pretending to examine the dental hygiene display board that lurks to the right of them. Shoey silently files the uncharacteristic lack of resistance as another point in the "This Isn't Real" column.

Shoey feels their jaw shift as they swallow, brushing their thumb over where the edge of the mask meets the edge of their skin. Tenderly, they tilt Aftyn's head to one side, then the other, as if weighing up every feature. Looking for any discrepancies that would prove all of this to be a cruel facade.

Hesitant, cautious, aware of how they hold their heart exposed in their hands, Aftyn speaks.

"I wasn't sure when you would wake up. If you would wake up. The doctors- They said visitation was for family only, even though I tried to tell them that... You know."

"That my entire family is six feet under?" Shoey chuckles weakly, going to move their hand away. "Don't worry, I'll plead our case. Doubt they'll be able to argue when they see my-"

A hand closes around Shoey's wrist, holding them fast. Incrementally, as if on the verge of reconsidering, Aftyn tilts their head and presses it into their palm. They stay still, blinking quickly with shadowed eyes. Shoey notes the bags that have formed underneath their eyes, so heavy that they more closely resemble suitcases. How long have they been out for? How many naps has Aftyn been forced to take in this chair, hunched over and struggling to filter out the hustle and bustle and brightness of the hospital?

Even fifteen minutes here is enough to make Shoey feel nauseated, the stench of disinfectant and desperation filling their nose and causing their stomach to flip inside out. The forced joyfulness of the decor only serves to highlight how morose the place is, people pacing anxiously as they wait for the news that could change their life completely, for better or for worse.

And yet… Aftyn has stayed. For them. Alone, mired in uncertainty, watching the hands of the clock tick along with each agonising second. Losing hours of precious sleep and study time, just to make sure they were okay. Shoey swallows thickly, lost for words. It feels unusual, to search their mind for a quip or tease, only to find it empty.

"Did you rip your IV out-? You know how dangerous that is, don't you? If you were in that much of a rush to get out, you should have called a nurse. That's what the call button is for... Idiot."

Aftyn's words are familiar in their roughness. Almost comfortingly so. Their tone, however, is less of a growl and more of a chiding rumble. Steel coated in velvet. It leaves Shoey wrong-footed, caught between elation and wariness. Unsure of how to take this new Afty.

"I had to see you. I had to know what had happened, if you were- If I'd scared you. I didn't want you to see me like that, sweet bean.." They laugh hollowly, their free hand moving to clasp the back of their neck. Nervous fingers skating over numbed skin. Their feet, feeling naked without the comforting weight of their shoes, shift and rub against one another.

Aftyn shifts slightly, the grip on their wrist adjusting. Their hand cups the back of Shoey's, fingers interlacing with theirs. The closest thing to pda they can manage. Shoey flushes with pleasure, some colour gradually seeping back into their cheeks.

"Well, I'm here. Clearly. You should have waited - I'm not going anywhere."

"You- Really? You promise?" The words stumble out of Shoey's mouth in an uncertain rush, as if entirely unable to believe it. "Not even after I- With the- And you saw me, covered in the..?"

Aftyn's gaze flickers from Shoey's hopeful, spreading smile, to the vase of flowers that have begun to droop on the table. A single white petal trembles and then falls from the head in a slow, drifting arc. Gently, it rests on the tabletop with a shivering sigh. Aftyn sighs with it. Their eyes turn back to Shoey's.

"Back then, in your apartment-" Flashes of that awful night appear in their mind, of finding Shoey all alone, engulfed in a forest of their own misery. Suffocating in succulents and fighting for breath amongst the flowers. How they had cried, then, tears mingling with flowing blood until they streaked crimson. Every time they close their eyes, Aftyn is back there. In that room. Holding Shoey close, prickling their hands on the endless sea of thorns, and feeling each shuddering, struggling breath go ever weaker.

In their dreams, Shoey would crumble to mulch in their hands. Leaving only stains.

In reality, Aftyn grips them tighter. Their flesh stays firm and warm, and wonderfully alive.  

"In your apartment," they try again, turning their head minutely so Shoey's knuckles can brush over mask-covered lips. A kiss steeped in plausible deniability. It was a start. "I made a promise to you, then. A bargain. I wouldn't leave you, if you didn't leave me." Their eyes are half-lowered, uncertain. Unable to hold Shoey's own. "Do you remember?"

"Yes," Shoey breathes. Every inch of skin that Aftyn touches seems to come alive, tiny fireworks bursting in each little cell. It’s almost overwhelming, and they feel their toes curl against the cold tile. "I remember. I'm just surprised, I guess. That you wanted me to stay."

At Aftyn's disbelieving glance, they chuckle breathily. "I know I'm too much for you, beanstalk. Even when I tried to water myself down, I was too intense. Obnoxious. Overwhelming. You'd said it yourself: You guess you didn't hate being around me. You guess you could tolerate me."

Shoey can hear Aftyn saying their name, buzzy and faint, but they’re too mired in their own doubt to pay too much attention. Yes, Afty was here - but it would take a monster not to be concerned by someone who was willing to perish from their own self-pity and stubbornness. They were a good person. They would stay, just long enough to ensure Shoey didn't end up putting their life in peril again, and then they would sneak out of their lives once more. As stealthy and silent as an assassin.

"I don't blame you, spitfire. I'm just happy you tolerated me for that long." They can feel that sickenly-familiar stirring in their guts, something pushing a slow path throw weakened organs, seeking to claim territory briefly lost. "It's fine if you leave. I'm a tough bean, I can handle it. You don't need to stick around for me."

"Shoey-"

"I don't want you losing sleep over this, Afty. I don't want you to throw your study time away, sitting in this awful chair and feeling your spine give out on you. You have to focus on your classes, right?"

"Shoey."

"I mean, who would want me, right-?" They chuckle shakily, hands moving to card through their hair, tugging fiercely at the short strands. In the corner of their eye, something shifts, chair scraping across the floor. They pay it no heed. "I'm- I'm constantly in people's space, I steal shoes just to 'improve' them, and the beans! Afty, how could you ever love someone who's so obsessed with bea-"

Their rapid spiral into uncertaintly is cut off by sudden pressure, arms moving around them to pull them close against a firm, steady body. Aftyn holds them fast in a hug, each muscle tense, face set in a grimace as they try to ignore just how unnatural it feels to initiate such a physical display of affection. The difference in height means that Aftyn's mouth is pressed against the crook of Shoey's neck, their fierce growl rumbling right through their body.

"Do you really think I'd go through all this out of pity? I'm here because I care about you, you idiot-" Their arms squeeze them a little tighter, as if terrified Shoey might fall apart without the pressure holding them together. "So get that through your thick skull, before you go and try to die on me again."

It’s the closest Aftyn could get to saying I love you. Shoey circles aching arms around them, mindful of the blood still oozing from protesting wounds. They can feel Aftyn's heart thrumming against their own, steady and refreshingly alive. The twisting remnants of vine still in their gut, then recede, and finally began to die.

"Ah, if it isn’t my little puppet.” The pet name might have sounded almost endearing if it wasn’t for the venom dripping from each purred syllable. 

“I was wondering when you might slink back here.” He leans forward, the bells on his cap singing softly with each movement. “Hero business not working out for you? Thought you could come begging for forgiveness?"

A chorus of laughs echoes after his words, lackeys and brown-nosers reveling in the humiliation that was surely close at hand.

"Or have you come to kill me?”

He draws ever closer, one set of hands steepling together in casual curiosity as the others tensed and flexed, playing with the knife he held.

"I do hope it’s that last one. I would just love to see you try."

Your heart leapt up into your mouth, heavy and thrumming with anger.

But Sun and Moon keep you in check, fingers pressing oh so gently into the taut muscles of your shoulders. You incline your head slightly to them, your smile brief but grateful. You need all the help you can get for this. Otherwise, you’re not sure if you could find the strength.

Funny. An acknowledgement like that would have been poison to you before, so determined were you to never show any indication of weakness. Of being less than those who strove to take you down, whether enemy or ally.

But you have your little heroes now, despite it all. And, despite everything, they have you. You are tied together, joined in new bindings that were yours to choose. The weight is gentle on your hands, unlike the restrictive burden of Eclipse’s collar around your neck.

He’ll never place it on you again.

You raise your head, a familiarly smug smile slotting into place over your features. It’s light with a kind of confidence that feels welcome and comfortable, like an old friend.

"I'm not here to fight you, Eclipse."

Something is pressed into your hand, heavy and smooth. You clasp your fingers around it, delighting in the burst of gasps that sound as you raise it to him, ready to land that first devasting blow.

"I'm here to destroy you."

Static frames you, two voices working in synchronicity to drop some sick beats as you begin to lay the bass down, tongue tripping and stuttering and punctuating the air in fire flow. The microphone is heavy in your grasp, amplifying your voice until it fills the entirety of the room, crushing everyone inside with each syllable.

The air is filled with righteousness as you take a step closer, your path mirrored by Sun and Moon who are doing their best to keep up the barrage of beats.

"Wh-Why-Wh-Why Why so serious?" you crow, hand waving in the air to punctuate your words, swaying from side to side as the tide of style and swagger carries you across the room, closer and closer to the stunned crimelord.

Eclipse reels back in apparent shock, thrown off balance by your bravado-buoyed words, by the way you invade his space with no hesitation or fear, swanning right past his henchmen as they gape in open shock.

The crowd parts for you like a sea separating for the Moses of sick beats and righteous burns. You haul yourself up onto his desk, legs swinging over the wood, smirking down at Eclipse smugly as you continue to give him the most devastating attack of his life.

Nothing is safe. Not his goofy fucking hat, his towering stature, his penchant for the colour purple. All of it is dragged out in excruciating detail, causing Sun and Moon to wince in apparent sympathy.

As you continue your tirade, you notice something strange. Eclipse is beginning to sputter and shake, each joint of his body spasming as steam pours out of his body, building into a kind of heat that emanated off of him in waves and threatens to cook you by proxy.

Good. It was working.

Now for the finishing blow.

"Hey yo Eclipse hear me out, don't think it's an attack - But if you're so fucking evil, why's your hat so whack?"

Unable to handle this most severe of insults, this peak of sick burns, eclipse's head immediately explodes into a shower of sparks and shrapnel,  forcing you to duck away and cover your head from the onslaught. The crime boss confetti pitter-patters down like rain, and you bask in the flurry.

A fresh burst of panic caused their circuits to pulse with newfound energy, forcing the figure to surge forwards. They forged a clumsy path around plummeting pillars and fire-warped mounds of plastic, sparking eyes focused on the haze of lights that blinked in and out of existence. The lights marked the twists and turns of each hallway, guiding them through the inferno.

The tannoy followed them through each room. Its tinny words were slowly warping from the heat, voice fading in and out as it looped the emergency announcement.

“An announcement for all esteemed guests at the Pizzaplex. For your safety, please make your way to the marked emergency exits. Our friendly staff will be there to personally escort you. Fazbear accepts no responsibility for any trampling, severe burns, smoke inhalation, or death that may be sustained during your evacuation attempt. Hope to see you again soon, and have a Faztastic day!”

Fallen pillars/planks of wood stand between them and the door, making a frantic hiss of static burst from their faceplate. Hands grasp at the material, fingers digging and cracking the cement and steel, as two other arms keep the fading form cradled close to their chest. A desperate wrench and twist of muscles. A slow, almost-wet rip and crack from the pillar. It split messily down the middle and was tossed aside by restless arms.

They step inside. 

The sealed halls of parts & service are refreshingly clear of the hazy smoke that rolls through the pizzaplex, but the doors are already beginning to breach up ahead, flashes of molten orange and red shimmering through the weakening seals. The figure pauses for only a moment to take in the destruction before they press forward, unoccupied arms grasping fitfully at the crevices of the walls, hauling themselves onwards with ardent desperation. 

Anxious fingers can’t keep themselves from tracing over ash-dyed hair, from flitting across glistening, weeping burn wounds. Like a moth drawn to a dying flame, they keep searching for that sweet, slowing pulse. Every time they find it, it’s a little slower and softer. The fear of that alone is enough to keep them going. 

A final barrier, the door to the inner chambers of parts & services open with minimum resistance. The figure spills inside, almost dropping their precious cargo on the floor. Limbs fumble and a voicebox hisses as they right themselves, clenching tight enough around soft, smarting flesh to earn an agonised whine.

Their core lurches.

“Sorry- So sorry, starlight-”

“It will be alright. They’ll be safe, soon.”

There is no resistance as the body is placed on the leather chair, straps hissing softly as they’re tugged and tightened into place. 

There’s plenty to work with, here. More than they could have hoped.

But even with nothing, they’ll save you. 

They’ll save you.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A gasp wrenches itself from your lips as you wake with a start, bolting upright.

Agony is the first sense to seize you, crawling in lava-hot pinpricks up raw, tender nerves. You feel like you’re locked in a horrible vice, your entire body shoved into a suit ten sizes too small, biting and nipping at your body.  It’s unlike anything you’ve ever experienced before. Every pulse of pain that courses through your veins is somehow more brutal than the last. 

Blue and orange sparks of light arc across your vision as you wrench your eyes open, left unable to speak from the pain that rips every last breath from your lungs. You try to fling yourself off of the chair, animal instincts screaming at you to run from the source.

A twitching hand holds you fast. Their touch barely breaches the numb wall erected around your nerves, and it takes being brought to a sudden stop to realize it’s even there. You cry out, fighting against it until someone hisses your name in a burst of static.

You freeze. Your eyes shift to the source of the sound.

A trembling, shock-numbed mouth fumbles around the words “Sun..? Moon-?”

The animatronic that hunches over your form, keeping your hand clutched tightly between their own, is a sight to behold. A roughshod amalgamation of parts, each twitching joint and creaking bolt seemingly at odds with itself. A half-singed nightcap swings from sparking sunrays. Oil drips from the spiderweb of cracks and fissures all over their chassis, wires exposed, dragging and pulsing and visceral, steaming guts in technicolor. 

They hang over you, poised and purposeful. As if you were a precious thing, fragile and liable to fall apart the second their watchful gaze falters. The coiling stretch of their smile brims with a raw, earnest kind of relief, and you find your own lips twitching in response. Their delight at seeing you alive and whole is palpable. Despite the pain, despite the horror of seeing them like this, as gnarled and twisted as you feel on the inside, you feel slightly more at ease. 

“I…” A wave of brain fog rolls over you, the relentless press of light boring right into your eyes. You screw up your face against it, gathering the strength to continue. “Where are we? What- What happened, here?”

A jagged purr, servos clicking as they lean closer to respond. The sound that seeps out from them coats your ears in inky black, sickly and stifling. Twin voices wind and twist around one another, churning and choking each other out in turn, distinct and distorted all at once. 

“Nothing to worry about, Sunshine-”

“Worry not, Starlight-”

“You’re safe now”

“With us-

“With us-”

“Nothing can hurt you-

“There is nothing that can hurt you-”

“Not while we’re here.”

“Here with you.”

But something is hurting you. Your shock-addled brain is sending insistent pulses through your body with every heartbeat. Slowly, despite your brain trailing a stream of protests, you look down.

Tears fill your eyes.

You work your lips soundlessly, unable to vocalise the mounting horror that digs with ice-cold fingers into your chest.

The rusting metal encases your limbs like a beetle’s carapace, embedded deep and greedy in your skin like swollen, skittering parasites.  

“What did you do?” The words tumble from your lips in a clumsy avalanche, your untouched left hand tracing a trembling path over the metal coating of the right, trying to feel something- Anything- Any kind of sensation that wasn’t dulled and inhuman. The roiling panic in your gut swiftly heats into anger, overflowing your chest until it explodes outward into a roar 

“What did you do?” 

You look down at yourself, abject horror already beginning to seize your gut. The creeping path of metal is an invasion, claiming quarter over the soft flesh that was once healthy and whole but is now marred with scars and discoloration from the burns.

It is devouring its way up your arms, and your legs - it has even completely replaced your right hand. You have been invaded by silicon and steel, and your body no longer feels as it once did. You are not wholly robotic like the watchful presence beside you, but even worse - you are no longer human.

You are adrift between two natures. Lost in a sea of ambiguity and violations of the natural order.

And the pain…

Oh, the pain.

You could not find the words to describe it.

It is beyond sense. Beyond measure. It is so abject it pushes through the limitations of sensation itself, crossing the borderline between pleasure and pain until it becomes almost a relief, a reprieve from its own agony. It coalesces and coils on itself like ouroboros, devouring and being devoured in measure. it is transcendent.

It leaves you screaming in a thin, reedy wail, lungs still feeling the impact of smoke inhalation. It is too much for you to bear, and four metallic hands hold you in a loose vice of a hug as you rock back and forth against your bindings, wailing piteously, begging for a relief that simply refuses to come.

"It hurts", you moan.

"We know," they reply. "We are sorry. We are sorry it hurts."

"It hurts," you cry again, their very touch burning your skin even more than the flames did.  Terse static fills the air around you, almost seeming to dig into your nerves like burrowing beetles in carrion.

"Star-"

"Sunlight-"

"You have to understand", they purr in unison, voices laden with regret. With an agonized sorrow that should be unnatural for them. For those two voices. "It was the only way to save you, to keep you from harm-"

"Save me?" You howl, “Save me?” 

"You call this saving-? Look at me." A shaky hand gestures over you, fingers coiled, stiff, and gnarled like dead leaves. Your other fist clenches, heavy and useless as a stone in your lap. 

"Look at me." You say it again, raising your eyes, still swimming with that blue and orange light as you glower at them once more. Their hands clench uselessly in their lap, unsure of whether to touch you or to retreat. You grit it out for a third time, each syllable laced with a desperate, distraught venom.

"Look at me. I'm a monster. I'm- I don't even know whose body this is. Did you scavenge this? Is this- Some other bot? Am I wearing someone's corpse, right now? Is that what this is?"

"No, no-!" they both rush to say it, voices rolling and running over one another as they fight to be the first to speak out. "Not at all, star- You're no monster. You're still- You, still our dear friend, so kind and good-"

You can only coil away from them, your body rigid and set. Stiff.

"Get away from me."

The sound of frantic clicking, like someone trying to clear a clenching throat.

"Friend, please, we-" 

Their head twitches to the left, torn nightcap danging pathetically from fragmented sun rays. "No.” This voice is softer, speaking in a rustling, silvery sigh. “They’re right, Sun. Look. We’re hurting them.”  

The fractured faceplate shifts from one side to the other, rocking in an invisible tide. The light in their eyes has dimmed, gaze distant, looking at something just out of your field of view. Fingertips tap together nervously, jerking once or twice as if wrestling with the urge to pull you close again, to soothe you where words could not.  

The weight of an entire world rests in your lungs. Your chest rises against it, fighting to draw breath. Through the persistent chittering scratch of raw nerves, you can feel something else. A thin, faint thrumming. The whisper-song of servos, coursing through the alien parts of you. Searching for a nervous system made of wires and code, instead of veins and grey matter.

Your next words come out far more raggedly than you would like.

"It hurts so much. Why-? Why would you do this to me?” 

A keening, frayed whine is their only response. Your head slumps back against the unfeeling leather of the operating chair, sending another pulse of pain through your patchwork body.

“I just want…. I just want it to stop. Please.”

Your searching eyes fall on them, on the way they lurch to their feet, a hand reaching out to you in abrupt panic before remembering itself. You ignore the stammering buzz of protest, the warning growl, as you spare another glance down at the mess they’ve made of you.

A body that is not yours stares back, each bolt and seam of silver and steel hissing that this is wrong. It should never have been yours. Flesh and aloy were not made to meet, not like this, crossing boundaries with a kind of brutality that makes you feel sick down to your bones.

A tear slips down your cheek, wet and warm, cresting over the plate of metal grafted clumsily over your jaw. You swallow. It echoes through your skull. Your voice comes out in a hoarse whisper.

“Please, make it stop.”  

The pain in their eyes almost seems to match your own.

Their next words take a moment to register, vibrations trying to push through the pain that buzzes through your entire nervous system.

"No, little star. We can't do that. We're sorry."

Your next breath freezes in your lungs.

"What-? What do you mean, no? You can't leave me like this." You thrash against your bindings once more, shackles jingling like the chain on a trapped dog. "You can't do this to me! Please, please- Don't leave me like this!" Your voice is the hysterical trill of a bird with a broken wing, dragging itself fitfully on the ground as it thrashes in fresh throes of agony.

They speak over your ragged sobs, as your head slumps over your chest. A shaky, sparking hand reaches out to tilt your face upward, stroking away the tears that continue to fall.

"We won't lose you, Starlight. Not like this."

"We can't let you go. Not while you're still breathing. Still so bright, so full of life-"

You spit out your words in a broken hiss, each syllable sizzling hot and sour.

"You don't understand- You can’t understand how much this hurts. The kind of hell I'm living in. You can't do this to me. It isn't living, it's- It's-”

The words are slipping from your tongue, slipping from your mind. Sparks and static fill the empty space, crushing any semblance of self under each rolling wave of pressure. 

Sun- Moon’s- Both of their fingers tip-tap together again, punctuating the brief, frantic ticking of their servos as they struggle to assemble some desperate, miraculous reassurance that will save your mind from spiraling. 

"We would do anything to keep you with us, little star.”

The guilt-laced words ring through your head like a klaxon, almost drowning out the growled promise that follows. 

“Anything.”

Torn asunder in the burning wreckage, you weep. You can’t even feel their warmth on your cheeks anymore. 

Ripped apart and cobbled together again, lost in the bowels of a destroyed empire, you mourn yourself. The life you once had, that you’ll never see again. And through it all, those arms hold you.