#marchofprogress

WX-78 is neat. they’re a robot, which abigail thinks is one of the coolest things ever. she usually only gets to admire from afar, considering the fact she spends most of her time around wendy, who in turn spends her time out of camp or around the survivors who are not WX.

well, today’s a day for sticking around camp anyway—while everybody else is making and repairing gear for the upcoming season, the young ghost has it in her mind that she’s going to make a friend today. or an acquaintance. she’s seen how rude WX is, but she’s determined to at least officially meet them.

abigail casually drifts over and sits on the ground, watching WX go about their business. her dead gaze is taken off the automaton as she searches for a means to get their attention. her sister isn’t here to be a proxy for her, and likely wouldn’t want to be, anyway… oh, wait! WX has a radio! perfect. the ghoul dissipates into the ground, reappearing near where the radio sits; she picks it up and nestles it against her chest, then skips a few paces closer to the robot.

MUSE HEIGHT COMPARISON || X

They inspect the the tableturf station, their single visible yellow eye slowly scanning over the area. They're either completely ignoring Li'l Judd's existence, or they don't notice him at all. Either way, the way they're leaning over his station without acknowledging him is a bit impolite.

[@marchofprogress]

With his minuscule height taken into consideration, perhaps Li’l Judd was mostly accustomed to being looked over. In a way, it was something he at times enjoyed. Being overlooked often meant others had no intention of bothering you, and kept to themselves for the most part.

@marchofprogress said: "WHY ARE YOU SO INVESTED IN KEEPING ME ALIVE?"

abigail sharply turns her head to glance at WX, an irritated wail escaping her being. they couldn’t have waited just one more second to ask questions? the last nightmare splumonkey bites the ghost’s arm, drawing her attention. with a growl and a forceful blow, she successfully crushes the corrupted primate into hair and blobs of nightmare fuel.

abigail lets out a breathless huff, drawing closer to the battered robot so that they’re bathed in her eerie glow. she leans over, examining their ripped and dented shell. she’s no mechanic, but that looks bad. abigail turns to glance at the damaged bio-scanner that sits nearby in parts and pieces. that device is definitely out of commission too.

the ghost rounds on WX, eyes narrowed. loud, haunting whispers erupt from her as she pulls WX’s backpack over, rummaging through it until she fetches an adequate mechanical trinket to talk through. ( apparently messing with robotics is far easier than other communication methods. ) she wraps her claws around the device, making eye contact with the automaton.

“YOU’RE A TEAMMATE. I DON’T LIKE MY TEAMMATES DYING. EVEN THE REALLY STUPID ONES,” the device sputters as she wails, “PLUS YOU WOULD HAVE TO REDO ALL YOUR SELF IMPROVEMENT STUFF.”

abigail breaks off into grumbles, craning her neck to look back and forth. no rifts are close enough for the nightmare creatures to notice WX and her yet, and hopefully all the splumonkeys are dead. abigail weaves through the air, circling around WX a few times protectively before idling at a their side and scratching the side of her head under her flower; she’d brought her actual physical flower in a hurry because she needed a clear head, meaning the situation is all the more risky.

Wes finally takes notice of the basket, looking down to inspect it. There didn't seem to be much in there aside from-

Wigfrid couldn't help but scoff, head jutting to the side in almost offended disbelief.

"Please.Teamwörk has never been thy intentiön, in all the years yöu've spent in this hellish place. It is all dömeneering and supremacy with thee- always has been. Yöu cönsider thyself wiser than a fleshbörn, yet find it wise tö chase thine öwn tail like a street mutt."

It was rare Wigfrid found herself in a position where she could literally speak down to one of her peers… It was difficult not to get caught up in the feeling. Of reeling her shoulders back, arching her back, 'towering' over top of the metal excuse of a mortal.

… Even still, she didn't get too close. WX never passed an opportunity presented. And they never played fair.

Meanwhile, another survivor was also making his way through the mosaic.

Wagstaff was a bit on edge after the trip through the adjacent forest. It seemed that nobody else had been through there in quite some time, meaning nobody has seen fit to keep the spider population in check. As such, the area was experiencing a borderline infestation of the horrid little beasts. Someone really ought to take care of that, he thought to himself, completely ignoring that he was also capable of doing so.

No matter, he wasn't out here for spiders, anyways. He liked to check on the local mosaic every now and then; though it wasn't worth the trip most of the time, the ever rotating assortment of resources available there made the location a welcome diversion from his usual routine.

And it seemed a diversion was indeed what he was in for.