[TOY] Plaything

[skinstealer]

test (ignore this)

[skinstealer]

You have to think on this one.

POLKA DOT: Hmm.
POLKA DOT: Can I just use your answer?
CROSSBONE: Huh?
POLKA DOT: My girlfriend turning into a big...skeleton monster, with flames and wolf claws!
POLKA DOT: That's pretty damn spooky.
POLKA DOT: ...but I'm excited for it, too.
POLKA DOT: It's gonna be cool.

 

It's hard to see her pixel character through the snow, but she lets out a shy beep you've come to associate with blushing.

 
CROSSBONE: S-silly...
POLKA DOT: If you want a non-gay answer, dreams.
POLKA DOT: They're scary, sure, but can be super awesome too.
FATALE: Wild thing to say after last night...

 

Her tone is amused, but bitter. You flinch, a bit.

 
POLKA DOT: S...sorry.
POLKA DOT: Was more thinkin' of stuff, like, me being a pirate once.
POLKA DOT: Not...dreams like that.
TIMOTHY: It's okay-
TIMOTHY: I know what you meant.
TIMOTHY: ...still, I wonder if...they'll get worse, or something.
CROSSBONE: I! Do not want to think about that right now.
POLKA DOT: F-fair enough!
POLKA DOT: Uh....Fatale.
FATALE: Mm.
POLKA DOT: What do you do for, uh, hobbies?
FATALE: Bold question to ask someone who's barely been in the outside world for the past year.
POLKA DOT: ...maybe stuff you want to do, then.
FATALE: Hmm...

 

The red-tinted bear thinks to herself, rubbing her elbow as she walks.

 
FATALE: I...am not sure.
FATALE: There are things I'm curious about at Laurie's, I suppose...
FATALE: ...
FATALE: Things I wish I could do, if things were different.

 

She shoots a side glance at Tim, who immediately starts looking nervous.

 
TIMOTHY: D-
TIMOTHY: Do you want me to cover my ears, or something? I-
TIMOTHY: It can be a secret between you and the o-
FATALE: No, no. We're having a truce, now.
FATALE: You can hear.

 

Her glance turns skyward, squinting as some flecks of snow fall on her glasses.

 
FATALE: The idea of putting on performances as a job...I can see why it appeals to Devo.
FATALE: A chance for us to explore and express how much knowledge we have in intimate departments.
FATALE: What I would give to be on a stage...
FATALE: ...
FATALE: ...with Devo.
FATALE: But we share a body.
FATALE: If we were to put on a performance together, it would require...preamble, special fliers, what have you, that out us and our situation.
FATALE: And then who knows what would happen? Maybe people would laugh. Mock us.
FATALE: Who on earth would find this sort of thing appealing.

 

The bitterness returns, more spitting than before.

 
Everyone is quiet.

 
FATALE: ...I suppose we can think about it, though.
FATALE: Something to entertain in our mind.
FATALE: Someday, we may even share those thoughts outside of dreams.
FATALE: ....
FATALE: My turn to ask a question.

 

She takes a deep "breath".

 
FATALE: Roulette-

 

The bot hardly moves its head.

 
FATALE: What, ah-
FATALE: What...do you want to do, when we're home?
FATALE: ...after all this.

 

Its fans suddenly kick into overdrive.
Snowflakes melt on its 'cheek'. You can feel the heat from where you're standing.

 
ROULETTE:  . . .
ROULETTE: ...I'm  n     N-

 

Its voice glitches, turning to static.

 
ROULETTE: nN-N-o t-tttsts-
ROULETTE: u-SsS-ure.

 

Roulette stumbles.
It stops walking.

 
Fatale's the next to stop, peering over at it with a concerned expression.

 
FATALE: ....Roulette?
FATALE: Are you okay?

 

It stares forward at nothing.

 

ROULETTE: ...concerned.
ROULETTE: About the creature we saw before.
ROULETTE: It-
ROULETTE: The commotion as it moved may have stirred up others nearby.
ROULETTE: If that's the case, then we-
ROULETTE: Then it- It- May be our best-
ROULETTE: We need to make sure other creatures won't be coming from that direction.
ROULETTE: If their numbers are high, which is likely, given the amount of noise the giant creature caused,
ROULETTE: Then it would be beneficial for us to have someone to warn the rest if a group of creatures are headed towards us.
ROULETTE: I will make my way further west and walk north in parallel with you all.
ROULETTE: Once I am absolutely sure it won't be an issue, I will make my way back.

 

The bot pivots, beginning to walk in that direction.

 
FATALE: Are-
FATALE: Roulette, someone should go with you-
ROULETTE: No.

 

It states bluntly, with more confidence than you've heard from it before.

 
ROULETTE: It will be more efficient if I go alone.
ROULETTE: If I need to warn everyone, I can make my way back easier that way, with less chance of being seen myself.

 

It trudges its way to the treeline.

 
No one moves, watching it go. The snow seems to obscure it faster than you'd have guessed it to.

 
The snowfall blanketing the air around you is denser now than you realized, filtering your vision like television static.
By the time you blink again, you can't see a single trace of Roulette.

 
FATALE: Shit...
TIMOTHY: ...I'm sure it'll be okay, Fatale.
TIMOTHY: Might...have needed some space.
POLKA DOT: It's, like- the strongest of us here. It'll do fine out there.
FATALE: ...
FATALE: I hope so.

 

Even with your reassurance...


You can't help but play back Roulette's words about leaving in your head.


...it said it'd wait til this is over.
....right?


Cross takes your hand, snapping you out of it.

 
CROSSBONE: ...cmon.
CROSSBONE: If we don't keep moving, it's going to end up far ahead of us.
CROSSBONE: We don't want to get separated further....

 

You steel yourself and nod, the four of you starting to trudge forward.


Fatale's the first to speak up.

 
FATALE: I'm moving my question to Timothy.
TIMOTHY: E-eh?
FATALE: What are you going to do when we're back?
TIMOTHY: ...

 

The scottie dog has to think about it.

 
TIMOTHY: Get to know you all, I guess.
TIMOTHY: As- as much is comfortable.
FATALE: ...
FATALE: Hm.
TIMOTHY: ...it's...important to me to make this work.
TIMOTHY: So I'm going to read! A lot of books!
TIMOTHY: And figure this out?
FATALE: Hmmmmmmm.

 

This time, you sense a slight smile in her voice.

FATALE: We'll see.
CROSSBONE: Oh, you might be able to look up stuff on multipets-
CROSSBONE: I can give you some recommendations!
TIMOTHY: O-oh! Thank you!
FATALE: It would be helpful...
TIMOTHY: Well! That means it's your turn, Willow.
CROSSBONE: Okay...let me have it.
TIMOTHY: Hmmm...
TIMOTHY: Gotta think...oh!
TIMOTHY: What's the first thing you're going to do as a monster?
CROSSBONE: Oh, easy.
CROSSBONE: I don't know what it is, but something tells me everything is just going to be...better, sensory-wise.
CROSSBONE: So I think I'll find the best place to eat in town and have a nice dinner.
CROSSBONE: Maybe even take some back to wherever Silk Ribbon and I are staying.

 

You have to hide a smirk, an unsaid meaning just for the two of you. Nothing to expand upon, not with everybody else here- but...

POLKA DOT: It'll be a date.
CROSSBONE: So, Ribbon, it's your-

 

Frigid wind stabs its way through your coat in a sudden gust, sending a shiver through your vinyl.
Everyone flinches, the group's trek halted suddenly as the weather becomes more ferocious.
It's difficult to keep your eyes open as the snow batters you.
You think Cross might still be talking, but you can't hear her at all.

It doesn't seem to be letting up, either.

You kick yourself for not noticing how bad things were getting.
It's a blizzard.

[knux400]

First priority is regrouping with Roulette. If it hasn't been that long since it left, there should be tracks leading away from the group at the point it left from. Backtrack until you see it split off, then follow it as quick as you can.

If that fails, the next priority is finding shelter. Any large solid object that's big enough for the four (or five, hopefully) of you to hide behind will work to break the wind, and depending on the situation, it might be possible to set up additional walls or heat sources.

If there's no adequate shelter nearby, get into a group huddle and wait until the storm dies down a bit before you resume walking. You'll lose heat more slowly that way (do toys have body heat???) and it'll prevent anyone else from getting lost. Fatale probably won't be too comfortable with it, but it's much safer than being separated, and her and Tim can be on opposite sides of the group hug if it's really an issue.

And if the storm doesn't die down soon and all else fails, then... just keep going forward, I guess. Roulette said it would meet us up ahead, and it does work better alone. We just have to trust it.

So to recap:
-Plan A is to find roulette
-Plan B is to find shelter
-Plan C is to huddle in place and wait out the storm
-and Plan D is to continue forward regardless

[MarxzVulpez]

I think we need to make/find a shelter first
I'm very worried about Roulette but cold is very very dangerous, and our visibility is getting increasingly worse. If any of us goes off looking for Roulette now, they would very likely get lost as well and potentially worse.

[skinstealer]

POLKA DOT: We-
POLKA DOT: We should go after Roulette!
FATALE: What?!
POLKA DOT: I SAID, WE SHOULD-
POLKA DOT: WE SHOULD GO AFTER ROULETTE
FATALE: YEAH-

 

The wind is howling.

TIMOTHY: I don't know-
TIMOTHY: We shouldn't s-split up!
FATALE: I can go-!
TIMOTHY: No! No, you-

 

Even in the blizzard, you can just barely make out Fatale giving Tim a death glare through her snow-covered glasses.

TIMOTHY: You'll get hurt!
TIMOTHY: Please, don't-
FATALE: R-roulette is my FRIEND, I have to-!
CROSSBONE: I'll go.
 

All of you are startled by the gravity in your girlfriend's voice, everyone turning to look at her.

CROSSBONE: I know what it's like to be an electronic in the cold!
CROSSBONE: None- none of you have experience with that.
CROSSBONE: I'll catch up to it and help treat any injuries.
CROSSBONE: Just- keep going forward, and we'll meet up.
POLKA DOT: But-!!!
CROSSBONE: Please...

 

She leans in, just barely able to talk directly to you and you and you alone.

CROSSBONE: Please, Polka.
CROSSBONE: I can do this.
CROSSBONE: Take care of the others. We'll be okay.

 

You screw your eyes shut and nod.

POLKA DOT: I love you.
POLKA DOT: Come back okay.
CROSSBONE: I love you too...
CROSSBONE: I promise.

 

She looks back up at the others, Fatale looking conflicted-

-before nodding as well.

FATALE: ...Good luck.
CROSSBONE: I'll need it.
TIMOTHY: Stay safe...

 

She takes a step away from the group, tensing up before starting to trudge through the snow...


and out of sight.



You try to ignore the pit of dread in your belly.

POLKA DOT: ...shelter. We should find shelter.
POLKA DOT: It's...just gonna get colder.
POLKA DOT: Don't wanna freeze to death out here.
FATALE: ...yeah.

 

She looks deeply uncomfortable, something that makes you feel worse. It's clear Tim's debating on comforting her, but you can't waste any time right now.

POLKA DOT: We keep going forward. That's the direction they're both going.
POLKA DOT: With any luck we can...find a cave or something.
TIMOTHY: ...I'll lead.
TIMOTHY: I've got the longest range weapon, and can scout ahead if we need to.
TIMOTHY: ...that okay, Fatale?

 

Fatale looks away, nodding. Her glasses are almost completely frosted over now.

TIMOTHY: Stick with Silk Ribbon. I'll be right ahead.
FATALE: ...yeah.

 

Her voice almost gets swallowed by the sounds of the storm, but the three of you take up your new positions, beginning your long walk.





You're surrounded by white. Seeing Fatale's black coat and Tim's red scarf is all you can cling to as the three of you walk, three toys alone in a horrible snow-buried world.

It goes on forever. The snow is cold and harsh against your cheeks, tear-paint coming up at the corners of your eyes.

You swear that even in the loud din of the storm, you can hear Fatale sniffling.


You don't even realize just how dissociated you are from everything until the wind hits, slamming Fatale into you- the two of you clutching at each other for dear life as it slices into your rubber skin. You can't tell if it's left actual gashes, frost, anything, but you hear a noise-


A startled, cut off canine yelp

-before you realize that the red scarf is nowhere to be seen.

Vanished.

Taken from you.

Fatale starts to shake, looking around frantically.

FATALE: Tim?!
FATALE: TIM-

 

You're just as panicked.

POLKA DOT: TIM, WHERE ARE YOU-?!
 

No answer.

 

Tim splutters, tumbling and rolling in an incomprehensible mess through the snow. He can't tell where he's going, where any of his limbs are, everything's all screwed up-

When he finally gets a grip, scrambling around in the snow and desperately trying to get on his knees-

He realizes just how far he's been pushed away from the group. Or- how far it feels. They're not there. He can't see a single thing, or hear anything over this wind-

TIMOTHY: FATALE?
TIMOTHY: RIBBON?
TIMOTHY: HEY!


 

His voice sounds hoarser the louder he yells, barely able to hear himself over the howls.

TIMOTHY: H-HEY! HEY, PLEASE-
TIMOTHY: ANYONE-


 

He chokes back a whine, getting to his feet and-


-tripping over a piece of wood rubble.


He remains on the ground for a few moments before raising his head.


A burned building sits before him, so close to him and yet still invisible just before he got moving.

TIMOTHY: M...maybe...they found shelter here...
TIMOTHY: M...mm...

 

The scottie dog gets to his feet, paw on his sword as he walks through the wreckage. It's been burned down a long time ago, since reclaimed by the snow. Even areas covered by patches of leftover ceiling have the snow blowing in, no proper cover to be found anywhere.

And then, by the outer wall-

He sees a bulkhead, leading to a basement- somehow uncovered.

TIMOTHY: H...hah....
TIMOTHY: I...if they didn't find this...
TIMOTHY: They probably will, later-

 

He kneels, opening the doors with little issue. Thankfully unlocked.

The stairs heading down feel ominous as he lowers himself in, closing the doors behind him and entering the dark.


He's able to fumble around the wall before finding a light switch, a single lightbulb in the corner of the very large basement turning on. There's others, but they're all burned out...

There's stuff down here, but it's mostly boxed, not a person or remnants of anyone having been down here- at least not in a while- to be found.

TIMOTHY: ....

 

Tim collapses to his knees.

TIMOTHY: ...please...please be okay.














 

You can't find him. You don't know how far you've walked, but you've lost Tim entirely.


To say you're panicked is an understatement.

Fatale is hanging onto your coat sleeve, all prior worries about touch lost. She's desperate to keep close to you, her body shaking even through her thick coat.

POLKA DOT: C-cmon! We-
POLKA DOT: We should-
POLKA DOT: Shelter. We should find shelter!
FATALE: O-okay!

 

You can't help but wonder what could be happening to Cross right now. If she's-


No, you can't think about the possibility of her not being alive. No way.


You shake the thoughts of your dream away, of her screen going dim.


No.

Not now.

Fatale squeezes you, snapping you out of it.

POLKA DOT: ...sorry. J-just-
POLKA DOT: Let's go.

 

The two of you walk carefully, linking arms and trudging through the knee-high snow. How it got that deep is beyond you, but you need to keep moving....




Fatale sees the cabin first, letting out a loud yelp and pointing with her free arm.

FATALE: L-LOOK-!
POLKA DOT: I see it, I see it-

 

Hope buds in both of your chests as you race towards the shack door, flinging it open-

...only to see nothing at all, but a dark abandoned room.


You're panting, trying to avoid from crying out in frustration.

FATALE: ...h...he'll be okay, right?
FATALE: He'll...he had to have found somewhere.
POLKA DOT: ...

You close the door, hitting the lights and dropping your backpack by a log couch.

The pillows throw dust everywhere as you sit, Fatale watching you lean back and cover your face with your wings.

FATALE: He'll...
FATALE: He'll be okay, right?


 

You can't answer.

There's not enough to say.











Snow buffets the metal chassis, even under layers.


Each step makes heavy divots in the snow.








Roulette comes to a scattered thicket of trees,
making its way in between them all.

It checks behind itself once.
And again.

Making sure no one can see.









The leaking dam in its head finally gives way.

It loses its strength.
Its legs go numb as it falls to its knees.
Its lens shuts, and shuts tighter.
Black-iridescent oil droplets roll from the center of the lens, staining the snow below in muddy colors.
One of its claws covers its eye to try and stop the flow, even now.
While the other squeezes at the side of its head, hard.

It tries to keep upright, but its posture heaves like a sapling in a thunderstorm.
Grey smoke sputters out the sides of its head.
It falls forward fully; half-sprawled, half-curled up on the snow-covered forest floor.
The robot is quiet during the whole affair, wary of being heard.
Near-silent, sniffling sobs the only aural indication of its condition.

The blizzard kicks on in earnest,
burying the robot quickly.
Its head and shoulders stay unstuck, though, only thanks to the overheating core behind its camera lens.


can't
I can't die here I can't
Devo and Fatale and the rest
they'll come looking they'll get hurt they won't Recover from losing me but I
can't
I can't. i can'ticant get up

get up. get Up
move your legs. Move. MOVE

Its body won't respond, entirely out of its control.

 

Stuck balled-up and sobbing in full overheated breakdown.

what do you have to whine about
what RIGHT do you have to lie here and cry
if you could have just Kept It Together a LITTLE longer
it was ALMOST OVER, i was almost THERE
YOU are the one who dug this hole for yourself by Being You
do something right for once in the stretch of nothing you call a Life and MOVE
get UP get up

please get Up
i have to I Have to

Its legs attempt to prop it up enough to rise.
The thicket protects it from the worst of the blizzard, but only barely.

It isn't enough.
Its legs don't have enough feeling; from the blizzard or the overheat, or both.

It rises a few inches only to collapse back into the snow.



lie here and die then
burden the ones you love with a wound that wont ever go away
from discovering your frozen corpse later
or worse. never once knowing what happened to me
theyll blame themselves. you did that to them
maybe one or more of them will die out here searching for me
no matter what all ive done is made more harm inevitable
couldnt keep it together

It lies still.
Too tired and too numb to cry.

i should have never made it out of the toy store

Its thoughts grow hazy.
The world grows dull as cognition fails.

sorry i couldnt
sor ry
i miss devo

i m iss

i miss den n y


There's the sound of footsteps crunching in the snow.

 

Crossbone stands over the robot, her chest heaving.

CROSSBONE: S...shit...
CROSSBONE: I-
CROSSBONE: It's not too late, I've-

 

She kneels, her own head fuzzy as she starts to brush as much snow off of Roulette as she can.

CROSSBONE: Fuck, fuck-

 

Roulette is barely moving, but still alive.

Its fans whirr from cold, its lens hardly open at all.
Some of its claws open and close slightly on occasion, servos grinding from the effort.

It doesn't seem to process that she's there at all.

CROSSBONE: O-okay, this is-
CROSSBONE: I'll! I'll carry you-

 

She heaves the bot into her arms, belly down to keep its backpack from pulling it down. Cross hears a quiet, glitchy grunt from the half-frozen robot as it's lifted.

CROSSBONE: N-no one is-
CROSSBONE: No one is dying on my watch!

 

The virtual pet begins to shuffle through the snow, taking slow steps through the woods.

Not long after she's started walking, she spots oddly-shaped hedges and lattice structures with dried-out vines along them.

A garden, she realizes.



She picks up the pace, startling as the all-encompassing silhouette of a giant manor blots out most of her view.

CROSSBONE: S...shelter....

 

She lets out a strained beep of relief, speeding up as much as she can with the heavy robot in her arms.

Cross finds difficulty making her way up snow-hidden stone steps, but manages to make it to the top.

She props Roulette enough onto one arm to reach under them with the other in order to pull the thankfully-unlocked door open.



Inside, the relief from the storm gives an instant boon to her faculties.
She fumbles her occupied arm for a light switch and manages to find one, switching on a dusty glass chandelier overhead.

Cross finds herself in a stone-and-carpet foyer that leads in many directions, including up to a second floor via a curved stairway.

She's hardly swiveled her head before she spots a cozy, albeit gaudy living room;
comfy-looking couches, and an unlit fireplace.







You can suggest for Polka, Tim, and Cross.

[knux400]

POLKA: "Cro- Tim had just as much training and prep time as everyone else. If we're okay, then he's okay. We just need to rest and regroup until the storm dies down. We'll all get through this."

CROSS: First things first, get Roulette to the nearest couch and lay it down. Then try and get a good look at it to see how much damage it sustained from the cold. Make sure to talk to it as you do so- it may be conscious, but unresponsive. Don't leave it until you're sure it's stable.

ALL THREE: Above all, try to stay calm. It sucks, but panicking isn't going to help here. Try to take stock of the situation and search the area for anything useful. We can't search for anyone else nor can we assume anyone's searching for us, the storm is just too much to be out in right now. Once things calm down, we can think about finding each other, but right now it's time to hunker down and wait.

[ThreadLurkingComorant]

Seconding.

[MarxzVulpez]

seconding Knux as far as Cross/Roulette goes, make sure it's safe and comfortable then check surroundings, maybe see if there's a way you can set up/fortify the Room or make it a base of operations while Roulette is recovering

Show ContentSpoiler:

or in case anything or anyone else is in this mansion

As for Tim/ Polka and the Bears uhh I guess get ready to be here for a bit? Check what all you've got around even though the spaces are small, maybe polka should check if Fatale's still fronting? And from there well... perhaps conversation to pass time? Insight on what Tim's thinking?

[skinstealer]

The basement floor is cold under Tim's knees, even through his snow pants. He's trembling, his thoughts racing with all of the possibilities.


Fatale...I...I just met her, and I couldn't keep her safe-
I know that she- she doesn't like me, but-
She...Devo...all of them, I need to protect them!
I can't let them get hurt, but I-
I couldn't. I was just blown away like a fucking ragdoll.


He clenches his stuffed paws into fists, banging one against the hard floor with a pathetic "whumph".

TIMOTHY: I'm...I'm so-
TIMOTHY: I couldn't do anything...

Tears start to stream down his cheeks, embroidery gushing out into long dangling threads.

TIMOTHY: They mean e-everything to me, and I'm-
 

The scottie dog clutches at his scarf, bringing it to his face and muffling a pained scream.


It hurts-
This hurts more than- more than anything-
I love Devo, I love-
I don't know Fatale, or-


The hug he gave Scout last night comes to mind, soft and intimate...unfamiliar, but just as warm as the ones he gets from Devo.


I...I'm going to miss out on meeting all of them...
Even...even the shadowy guy, I wanted to try and- to try and be his friend-


He lets out another strangled sob, his shoulders heaving as he gets it all out.


S-silk Ribbon too, I just- I let her down, she's gone too!
My b-best friend, gone just like that, and I was- I volunteered to protect both of them, and I couldn't do a single thing.
Why the fuck am I-
Why did they have to put their trust in me?
I'm just a m-mistake...


It takes a while for his sobs to end, the dark basement making it impossible to tell time.



...but it does stop, leaving the dog feeling empty.


He raises his head up slowly.


...if they're...if they're okay, and we don't all fucking die out here-
I should look for supplies.
...make myself useful.


Tim sluggishly hefts himself up to his feet.
The dim lightbulb overhead doesn't illuminate much in his little corner of the basement,
but there's still enough to properly search.


Most of what he finds are wooden crates, which he's entirely unable to open on his own; all of them shut tight.
Against a nearby wall he spots a plastic-wrapped mattress. Testing it with his paw, it feels softer than he imagined it would.
He pulls it over and flops it down in his corner, glad to have somewhere to rest in the cold basement.
Finally, when looking across one of the crates, his paw brushes against a little book, which he promptly picks up.


It's a half-finished booklet of crosswords, a little pencil still threaded into the metal loops at its top.


...great.
At least I can. Do. Something.


He sets himself down on the mattress and pulls out the pencil with a strained sigh, starting in on one of the puzzles.



...most of it's already filled out. There's just two words left.

TIMOTHY: Plush innards, 8...8 down...
TIMOTHY: Starts with a P-

 

He rubs his snout into his hand, still shaky.

TIMOTHY: ...polyfill. Of course it's polyfill.



 

It's some time before he sets the book down, his head pounding and chest aching. He can barely take the sheer amount of noise in his head, driving him absolutely crazy.

TIMOTHY: ...fuck this.

 

Laying back on the mattress is all he can think to do, closing his eyes and praying as hard as he can that his mind quiets.



Sleep comes for him.

 

---

 

You watch as Fatale paces around, unsure of what to say at first.

POLKA DOT: It's-
POLKA DOT: If we made it somewhere, I'm sure the others...I'm sure they did too.
POLKA DOT: Tim's trained just like the rest of us.
POLKA DOT: So's Cross, and so's Roulette.
POLKA DOT: ...

 

You're not sure how much you believe your own words, pulling your wing down your face. Thoughts about what could have happened to all of them won't leave you alone, and you're holding back every bit of panic in your body.


But Fatale needs someone right now, her whole body trembling.

POLKA DOT: We just have to wait out the storm and we can find them.
POLKA DOT: ...okay?

 

She sniffles.

FATALE: ...o...okay.
POLKA DOT: Here, just...

 

You sigh, patting the spot next to you on the couch.

POLKA DOT: Sit for a sec.

 

The bear hesitates before taking a seat, pulling her knees up to her chest.


You stop to check her cheeks- yeah, still red.

POLKA DOT: Just to check...it's Fatale right now, right?

 

She looks startled, but nods.

FATALE: I...I'm just-
FATALE: I'm just scared.
FATALE: I don't...I don't want to die out here...
FATALE: And I don't want anyone else to die either-
POLKA DOT: Nobody's gonna die.
POLKA DOT: We're....we're just gonna....wait out the storm.
POLKA DOT: ...yeah.


 

Fatale pulls her knees in closer, and the two of you grow quiet again. The wind's still howling outside, but at least it's quieter in the lodge itself.

POLKA DOT: ...you gonna be okay if I look around a bit?
FATALE: ...yeah.
FATALE: I'll...I'll manage.
POLKA DOT: Okay...hang tight.


 

Checking the room, you find a door you hadn't noticed before and push inside.


At first glance, it's a little hallway,
but after turning the light on, you realize it's a kitchenette with two burners, a little sink, and some cabinets.
You save checking them for now, spotting two more doors right next to each other.


Beyond one is one of the tiniest bathrooms you've ever seen in your life, though it somehow manages to contain a standing shower.
Past the other is a cozy bedroom, with two bunk beds across from each other.
Good to know you've both got a nice place to sleep.


With that done, you rifle through the cabinets in the kitchenette.


You don't find much, the place apparently almost cleaned out.
But, you do find some canned food on the highest shelf.
Pulling them down, you check the labels.


...They're canned PB&J Sandwiches, and a canned cheeseburger.

FATALE: ...ew.

 

You nearly jump out of your skin, letting out a strangled squeak.

POLKA DOT: F-fucking- scared me-
FATALE: ...sorry.
FATALE: Just...didn't want to be...alone.
 

Her voice sounds so soft, even more than when she was crying at the campsite. She's looking down at the ground, shuffling her feet, rubbing her elbow.

POLKA DOT: Well...we've got some bunk beds to sleep in.
FATALE: Oh...that's good.
POLKA DOT: And a cold, canned cheeseburger.
FATALE: ...snrk.

 

She can't help but snicker a little, getting you to smile.


Well...maybe....we'll be able to hunker down.
Yeah.
We'll make it.

 

---

 

Cross heaves Roulette over to the closest couch she sees, letting out a long beep of exertion as she sets the robot down carefully.

CROSSBONE: Gotta get you warm...

 

She turns to the fireplace- relieved to see that the unlit flame within is just like the party's campfire, plastic with a little light inside. Sure enough, there's a switch on the bottom, easily flicked to get the heat and light going.

CROSSBONE: O...okay. Step one down.
CROSSBONE: ...should probably just...

 

She rushes back over to the couch, getting behind it and straining as she scoots it more towards the fire, as close as she can get it while still leaving room to move.


Time to play nurse...
Think back to what you had to deal with while homeless.


The virtual pet steps back in front of the couch, looking the robot over.


Roulette is still barely moving, though its lens is open a little, focused on nothing in particular.
It's difficult to see much with its clothes on, but she does notice frost built up at its neck joint, likely the same for its other joints as well.
Even its lens is coated in a layer of frost.


It's no wonder it isn't moving much, the ice probably isn't giving it much room to.
Not only that, but the progression of the freezing seems a lot faster than she remembers dealing with herself;
likely because Roulette is mostly metal rather than having a plastic shell.


Okay...
I should try to get some of that frost off.
The ice is bad, but hopefully it didn't get in too deep...
...

I should probably take its coat off, get a better look at things.


She wrings her hands a little before starting to prop it up, removing its scarf with as much care as she can muster. Its hat comes off next, laid to the side with the scarf.  Its coat requires a bit more work, Cross having to work around Roulette's stiff, frozen joints. She makes sure the clothes are all tucked away to the side, before she lays it back down flat.


It's immediately concerning, seeing just how frosted-over Roulette's limbs and joints are,
though she can tell the ice is already starting to melt as it's gotten warmer.
Luckily, there doesn't seem to be much in the way of serious or long-lasting damage, as far as she can tell.


Roulette's lens lazily looks up at her, though she can't tell how much it can see with the ice, especially being so out-of-it.

CROSSBONE: H...hey, Roulette...
CROSSBONE: ...
CROSSBONE: I don't know if you can hear me, but...
CROSSBONE: I got you.

 

She looks around the immediate vicinity, letting out a grateful chime as she spots a pile of throw blankets.

CROSSBONE: Time to get bundled up...

 

The vpet cautiously wraps one around the bot, making sure it's completely surrounded.


It's a few moments of studying the robot before Cross sighs, getting no response.

CROSSBONE: ...I should go make sure this place is safe.
CROSSBONE: I'll be right back.

 

Thankfully, the living room looked to be fairly closed off from the rest of the manor, with only one entrance,
although it's rather wide and entirely open without any kind of traditional door.


Her careful eye spots a handle, just next to the opening.
She walks over and tugs on it, finding it to be a wide, foldable privacy screen of sorts.
She pulls it all the way across, locking it in place at the other side, and pushes some nearby furniture against it for good measure.

CROSSBONE: ...okay!
CROSSBONE: Okay.

 

She looks over her shoulder, calling back to Roulette.

CROSSBONE: Place is all locked up now!
 

To her surprise, the bot has stirs now, attempting to sit up.
It promptly fails, letting out a quiet grunt as it flops back against the couch.

ROULETTE: . . . W i llow...?
CROSSBONE: Roulette!

 

She rushes over, kneeling by the bot's side.

CROSSBONE: How do you feel?

 

It ignores her question, or possibly doesn't hear it.

ROULETTE: Where are the others?
ROULETTE: ...Is everyone safe...?
CROSSBONE: ...

 

She glances away.

CROSSBONE: I don't...know for sure.
CROSSBONE: The storm got really bad, and I went out to get you.
CROSSBONE: ....
CROSSBONE: If we found shelter, there has be other places for them to go.
CROSSBONE: ....

 

Her shoulders shake slightly, but she keeps it together.


Roulette stares into the fireplace.

ROULETTE: . . .
ROULETTE: ...I should not have...wandered off.
ROULETTE: I shou-
ROULETTE: ...You would not be here with me if I hadn't.
ROULETTE: I... apolog- I...cannot keep saying that as if it makes a difference.
ROULETTE: ...You are here because of me. I have no excuses.

 

Cross doesn't make eye contact, still.

CROSSBONE: It...when I found you, it looked like you'd been having a hard time.
CROSSBONE: I get it...
CROSSBONE: Just...don't beat yourself up for it, okay?
ROULETTE: ...hard time?
 

 Shit, maybe that's too personal.

CROSSBONE: W-well, um...
CROSSBONE: It, um-
CROSSBONE: Looked like you had been...crying.

 

Her pixel character shimmies uncomfortably.

CROSSBONE: I...won't tell the others, if you don't want me to.
CROSSBONE: N-not that anyone would judge!
CROSSBONE: Just...privacy.
 

It visibly sinks into itself as its posture droops.

ROULETTE: ...you-
ROULETTE: ...should not have had to, see that.
ROULETTE: I ap-
ROULETTE:  . . .
ROULETTE: ...I will do my best to make up for...all of this.
ROULETTE: We will find the others.
ROULETTE: ...Here, I can...try to patro-l-

 

Once again, it can't manage to sit up.
It strains, servos crunching with ice, but it only ends up back down on the couch.
It says nothing.


Cross places a hand on Roulette's shoulder, gentle.

CROSSBONE: ...rest.
CROSSBONE: It's...no use going out while it's this bad.
CROSSBONE: We'll both just end up totally iced over.
CROSSBONE: We should be safe here, so....
CROSSBONE: Let's...stay put.
ROULETTE: ...Thank you.
ROULETTE: I'm sorry.


 

---

 

You and Fatale sit on one of the couches, staring directly at the canned cheeseburger, set on a side table. It had been a while since you'd looked around, the sun had fully gone down, and neither of you had been talking much- but now a topic has arisen.

FATALE: ...what if I paid you to eat it.
POLKA DOT: Mmmm.
FATALE: I'm just saying, it'd be a way to pass the time.
POLKA DOT: I dunno. Feels...so wrong.
FATALE: The texture would be awful.
POLKA DOT: And it'd be cold.
FATALE: Would you eat it with a fork, or with a spoon.

 

You shudder.

POLKA DOT: Eueuueuegh.
FATALE: Hehe...

 

It's nice to see her perk up a bit, even if it's only for a moment- though the two of you are startled by the sound of the wind, slamming against the side of the cabin.


...at least, you're pretty sure it's wind.


Fatale gives you a sideways glance.

FATALE: Does it...?
POLKA DOT: ...yeah.
POLKA DOT: Sounds...weird.
FATALE: Maybe...someone's out there, looking for us!
POLKA DOT: Hold on, we should-
POLKA DOT: We should listen carefully before we make any big moves, okay?
FATALE: Okay...

 

The two of you sit in silence, listening to wind, wind, and more wind-


Until you make it out.


A single voice.


Singing.


Polly, Polly, Pooooollly-


You let out a strained squeak, almost a wheeze.

 

It can't be-

FATALE: ...Polly?
FATALE: Is that-
FATALE: Like, a nickname that Wil-
POLKA DOT: Nope. Noooope.
POLKA DOT: B-but, you heard it-
 

She nods, her eyes wide.

POLKA DOT: O...okay. I'm not-
POLKA DOT: I'm not going crazy-
 

Your wings are shaking as you get up off the couch.

FATALE: W-wait!
POLKA DOT: I just-
POLKA DOT: I just want to look outside-

 

Far in the distance past the cabin's clearing,
obscured by trees and heavy snowfall,
you spot two yellow lights projecting sideways into the snow, moving along in sync with each other.


In any other context, you'd mistake them for the headlights of a car,
but there's no way anyone could be driving in this condition, let alone without a road.


Looking at them makes dread well up in the pit of your stomach.

 

---

 

Curly...

Tim's eyes widen with a start, his whole body tensed up.

The name had come to him in a horrible- it had to have been a dream, right? It sounded distant, so it must have been his imagination.

...

No way it was real.

He sits up slowly, letting himself re-acclimate to the waking world. It had to have been an hour since he'd fallen asleep, judging by the groggy feeling all over, like a nap ended too early.

Cuuuurly-

This time, he jumps, hearing the word loud and clear.

...I'm-
I'm hearing things. I'm just stressed.

Where's my little girl?

His whole body feels ice cold, every part of him locked up. The feeling grows worse and worse before he lays back down, pulling his scarf over his head and covering his ears.

No such thing as ghosts, or anything like that. Nope. I'm just really fucking stressed and hearing things.

Sleep takes him after what feels like an eternity-








Only for the dog to yelp, startled by the sound of something slamming the unlocked bulkhead doors.

 

---

 

Cross's pixel character stirs, wiggling back and forth and emerging from her little on-screen futon as she wakes up. It's always hard sleeping outside of her normal cycle, and her internal clock tells her that only an hour has passed since she and Roulette had fallen asleep on their respective couches.


The first thing that hits her is the feeling of anxiety creeping through her whole body, a deep dread that makes her feel like she's going to be sick.

CROSSBONE: H...hah....
 

She grips at her chest, feeling a horrible pain in her buttons-


The same kind of pain she had felt when they broke on the streets, the feeling of something worming inside and touching her electronic guts.

CROSSBONE: Haghgfh....

 

She hunches over, audibly making pained beeps as she tries to get it together.

ROULETTE: ...Willow.

 

She turns her head to the robot.



Its lens is wider than she's ever seen it, looking at the barricade.

It's open.
Wide enough for a person to fit through.

They both can see out past it, into the pitch black of the rest of the manor.

 

Still alive?

 

A voice comes from out in the dark.


Roulette is on its feet, scythe drawn in an instant.
It can hardly stay upright, though.


It's shaking.

ROULETTE: Did...did you...hear...?

 

Cross nods, immediately scrambling for her hatchet.


When she speaks, her voice is very quiet, though made wavering by the fear and sickness in her chest.

CROSSBONE: I...I should handle this.


 

It'll kill you.
Run.

 

A different voice whispers into Cross' ear.


Roulette jumps, swiveling back.

ROULETTE: I...I-I wouldn-
ROULETTE: I-
CROSSBONE: S-
CROSSBONE: S-show yourself!

 

She yells out into the dark, raising her hatchet at the void ahead.

CROSSBONE: I w-won't-
CROSSBONE: I won't fall for it!
ROULETTE: It-
ROULETTE: I...don't know if- if-



 

Shhhhsh-sh.

 

The voice in the dark comes again.
Something about it makes Cross' plastic crawl.


Roulette backs all the way to the wall this time, its electronics shuddering as they attempt to rev up but can't manage it.
Oil is leaking from its lens, a faint whimper coming from its speaker.

 

It's alright.
You can cry if you need to.


Come here.

[knux400]

Uhhhhhhhhh what the fuck.

Okay. Running is probably not an option here, given the storm is still going strong and Roulette is still partially iced up. You're going to have to fight these things... or negotiate, I suppose, but that doesn't seem likely.

TIM: Try to reposition so there's some crates between you and the door, then draw your sword and wait. Better to engage that thing here where there's cover rather than try to come to it.

POLKA: You and Fatale need to spread out. If there's only one bad guy, it'll have to divert its attention between the two of you, which should make it a bit easier to handle.

CROSS: Unfortunately, you've got the toughest job out of the three. There's no way Roulette is going to be able to fight in its current state, so focus on getting between it and the creature.

Whatever any of you do, DO NOT APPROACH THE CREEPY VOICE.

[ThreadLurkingComorant]

Seconding avoiding creepy voices. Look for evidence of physicality, don't give it any sort of invitation. From what old rumor goes, these types of things look for you to acknowledge them.

Cross: Tighten your defenses. Look for all exits and limit the amount of ways things can get in on you or separate shit.

[Guest]

This may not be something anyone can run from. The pairs should stick together, try and keep each other focused and safe and out of the grasp of whatever this is-

And don't go outside into the snow. That's out of the frying pan, into the fire.

Same for Tim. but being alone with something that seems... to know too much--

hold onto the thoughts of your friends. They still need you.

[palencorgi]

OOPS that last post was me i forgot to log in

[skinstealer]

You back away from the window, gesturing for Fatale to join you.

Another sound cuts through the dark, a deeper voice- growling and snarling.

Devo, my Devotion....
Where did you go?
You can't hide from me forever.

Fatale makes a strangled sound, taking more than the few steps back you suggested. She's already with her back to the far wall, her chest heaving.

FATALE: He's-
FATALE: He's found us-
POLKA DOT: C-calm down-

 

Polly, where are you?
We never finished our job!
Don't you remember?

 

Your ribbon feels like it's choking you.

POLKA DOT: We-
POLKA DOT: We need to spread out-
FATALE: Don't l-leave me alone with him!

 

Her voice comes out shrill, desperate.

Come here.

The words seem to boom, shaking both of you to your core- it's both voices at once, feeling out of sync and distorted.

The lights outside seem to come closer.

POLKA DOT: I-if we spread out-
POLKA DOT: It won't be able to focus on both of us-
FATALE: Where are we supposed to go, Ribbon?!

 

She's practically screaming now, grabbing at her chest and gripping it tight enough to bunch her coat fabric in her fist.

Be a good girl and come here.

Fatale lets out a strangled noise before collapsing to her knees, covering her ears.

One more down.

You hear Daemon's voice as clear as day, shaking you to your core.

It'll be a quick slice.

Fatale's cheeks tint black.

Isn't it something when they burst?

You feel the weight of a bat in your wings.

 

---

 

Tim scrambles to his feet, every part of him screaming to run, to get out of here-

Curly, don't you want to be my little girl-?

He snatches up his sword as he dives behind a crate, narrowly avoiding cutting himself on the blade in the process.

TIMOTHY: Shit, shit-

 

Another slam on the bulkhead, Tim's head pounding along with it.

I thought you cared about me-

The scottie dog lets out a whimper, covering his muzzle with his scarf.

Don't let her hear you, don't let her hear you-!

My Cuuuurly girly.
I know what you need, you need me to take care of you...

 

The door will hold. It'll hold, it has to hold-

I...I need to get through this.

For Devo, and Silk Ribbon, and- and Fatale, and Roulette, and Cross, and all of the others-

I need to-

CURLY

 

---

 

Roulette is shaking hard enough for its parts to sound loose.

It trudges forward regardless, going for the privacy screen.
But, its legs fail, and it catches itself on the couch, looking barely mobile still.
The bot tries to prop its scythe on the floor in order to stand back up, but it isn't going well.

CROSSBONE: R-roulette! You need-

 

She's struggling with her own words, her hands shaking.

CROSSBONE: You need to let me do this-!

 

With an extended, distorted beep, she pushes past the weight pooling in her legs- as if she herself was feeling frost creep up them- and getting to the door opening.


The void hangs in front of her.

ROULETTE: Don-
ROULETTE: Don't...get close, I can-
ROULETTE: I can-
 

You need to listen to me. I'm trying to keep you alive.


The second voice speaks into her ear again.

 

It's dangerous.
More dangerous than the rest of you.
Remember what Polka Dot said?
It's the strongest of you.
You've seen how it fights. You know it is.

ROULETTE: Willow-
CROSSBONE: Rou-
CROSSBONE: Roulette is my friend!

 

She grips the side of the door, her hands trembling. She can feel the grease and grime of digging through trash all over her fingertips.

It is? You don't even know who it is.
Faysal isn't someone you're safe around.

Cross can hear that Roulette has managed to stand behind her.

ROULETTE: I can-
ROULETTE: Let me handle th-

 

Why do you think it doesn't want you to be by the exit?
It doesn't want you to leave.

ROULETTE: That is Not-
ROULETTE: Denny, pl-

 

Oil streams from its lens.

ROULETTE: I wouldn't-!

 

And if it's Really your friend,



Then why did it try to kill your girlfriend once already?



Roulette stops moving.
Its aperture is open wide.

 

The exit is open.
You have an advantage.
It'll be stalled in just a moment.
While you can,

 

RUN!

ROULETTE: . . .
ROULETTE: I. W.

 

Don't worry.

The first voice comes from behind Roulette.
It tries to swivel, to swipe its scythe in that direction.
But it can't move fast enough to even try.

I still love you.
I always will.

Its arm twitches upward as it gasps loudly and stumbles away.
As if it'd knocked something off itself.

It freezes, sickle vibrating in its claws.
Its head sparks and sputters.

You poor thing.
It's good I found you.

 

Roulette's shoulders wrench upwards, its elbows nearly pushing together.
The motion throws its stance off entirely.
Its sickle clatters to the floor.

 

I've got you.

 

It squirms like vermin caught in a snare.
Oil stains its wet clothes as it trembles, its parts heaving.

ROULETTE: ...o-oNn-n me-e-on-m-me-!

 

Come on.
Why the tears?
You could look a lot happier that I'm back.

Give me a smile.
I can always tell when you smile.

You look so Cute.

 

Its aperture shuts, hanging in an awkward standing position.
As if it's being held there.
Oily tears continue on regardless.

ROULETTE: -OnMe-on-n-nmm-e-ePle-ea-s-s-s

[Guest]

Fight back. Face your fears. Support each other where you can. Prove you're more than your past.

Give 'em hell.

[knux400]

ALL THREE: These voices can't be real- or at least, they can't possibly belong to who you think they belong to. There's no way in hell any of your abusers would be able to track you down all the way out here in this blizzard. It's probably some kind of fear monster thing that's using your bad memories against you. It's tough, but try to ground yourselves. Find something in the room you can count, or a texture to rub against. Focus on what you can see rather than what you can hear. Nothing's physically attacked you yet, so you might not be in as much danger as it seems. The first thing you need to do is calm down, and the second thing you need to do is find the source of the voices and shut it down.

POLKA: The shadow bear, Devo's fourth system member, is being dragged out by whatever trauma bullshit is happening. Try to calm Fatale/Shadowbear down, but keep your distance. See if you can get them to focus on finding the source of the noise rather than what the noise is saying to them.

TIM: The bulkhead doors are unlocked, so unless this thing just doesn't know how doors work (and I'm almost certain that whoever it is you're having flashbacks about can operate a simple door, so that's another point for this being some kind of trick), it doesn't make any sense for it to still be banging on them like that. Try and take a peek to see what's going on.

CROSS: Try to reassure/comfort Roulette as best you can. The voice isn't real, and you're definitely not leaving. See if you can approach it and verify that there's nothing physically touching it- there shouldn't be, but I'm not sure what else "on me" could mean.

[skinstealer]

It can't be real. There's no way this is real.
Daemon can't get me.
They're not here.
And-
Whoever's- whatever's- taunting Fatale- no, it's the shadow guy now, it's- they can't be here either.
We. We need to calm down.

You take a deep breath before slowly approaching the black-tinted bear, trying to ignore the feeling of your bat still heavy in your wing.

It would be so easy to solve the problem-

You whip around towards the window, your beak gritted into a grimace.

POLKA DOT: CAN it!

 

The bear startles, scrambling for his knife and holding it out at you.

POLKA DOT: N-
POLKA DOT: Not you. I just don't-
POLKA DOT: I don't want to take any more shit from whatever's out there.

 

The bear's shoulders are heaving, as if even getting his next words out is a tremendous effort.

????: You have to let me out there.
????: I can-
????: I can kill him.
POLKA DOT: Uh-
POLKA DOT: I don't-

 

Going to finish the job, Devotion?

The bear says nothing, his eyes narrowing.

You couldn't last time.

????: I did plenty.

 

Black-eyed little freak.

????: This time I'll take more than your-!

 

You have to put your wing on his shoulder as he tries to get up to his feet, knife clutched desperately in his paw. Every part of him is shaking, and the look he gives you when he realizes you're holding him back is full of cold, raw, malice.

????: Let me go.
POLKA DOT: Dude, whatever is out there-
????: I KNOW what's out there-
POLKA DOT: It's not him, man!
POLKA DOT: There's no way Daemon and your guy-
????: Saddler.
POLKA DOT: There's no way that Daemon and Saddler could both be out there.
POLKA DOT: In the middle of nowhere?
POLKA DOT: In the middle of a blizzard?

He glances away.

POLKA DOT: Nothing's attacked us. We're just hearing shit.
????: I can feel him-
POLKA DOT: Feeling shit too, sure, but nothing's hurt us.
POLKA DOT: Don't go running out there when it's probably just a weird fucked up fear monster thing!
POLKA DOT: ...that'll probably just try to eat you.
POLKA DOT: You'd be dying for nothing, man.

 

He squeezes his eyes shut, squeezing the handle of his knife.

My Devotion, ohhh, my sweet Devotion-

????: ...alright.
POLKA DOT: If it makes you feel better, we can watch the window or some shit.
POLKA DOT: I'd be surprised if it didn't have something to do with that light.
????: ....

He doesn't say much, simply shuffling over to the side of the window, staying at a point where he can look out, but whatever's out there can't see in.


You watch his hunched posture, every part of him locked in and ready to spring into action if the light gets close enough.

Jeez....

When you sit down with him, you do your best to remember your own words.

It's not Daemon.
It's not Saddler.
It's just a stupid fucking animal.
We're fine.


We're fine.

 

---

 

The bulkhead slams.

Tim has his eyes squeezed shut, braced for the end.

I'm going to die here, I'm going to die here because she finally found me and she's going to punish me and-

Devo's face flashes in his mind- no, Fatale's. He left her alone. She's still in danger-

I c-can't give up!

Curly, what's gotten into you?

The plush lets out a rough growl, a far deeper sound than the soft voice he'd been using since arriving from the Store.

TIMOTHY: You know d-damn well what's gotten into me...
TIMOTHY: You won't leave me alone!

 

You're going to make such a mess of things!

It hits him just as the bulkhead slams again.

Wait-
She used to say that word for word-
Why would she repeat that exact wording now?
It's-
What if it's not her?
Why hasn't she opened the door?

Tim tries to collect himself, wiping away the tear embroidery on his cheeks and rubbing his paws against the mattress, feeling the weathered quilted texture.

Think back to my books.
Aftercare. Aftercare- grounding. This is bad. This is a bad situation, but maybe- maybe that'll help.
Touching things. C-counting things.

CURLY, where is my LITTLE GI-

TIMOTHY: Y-you're not real.
TIMOTHY: You're not real, and I'm-
TIMOTHY: I'm going to get out of this and find Fatale.
TIMOTHY: And I'll bring her, and everyone else in the party, back home safe.

 

His voice drops to a pained whisper.

TIMOTHY: I promise.
 

---

CROSSBONE: R-roulette, I don't think it's-

 

She approaches slowly, shuffling even with the feeling of her legs being so, so horribly icy cold.

CROSSBONE: I don't think it's real, it's okay-
CROSSBONE: I'll just-

 

The virtual pet lightly waves her hand around Roulette's shoulders- nothing there, just air.

CROSSBONE: N-nothing there, see?

 

Roulette's lens is clenched tightly shut, 'tears' leaking through.

ROULETTE: I-I can, I Feel th-

 

The bot is Yanked to the side away from Cross, like a puppet, still looking like it's being held.

Still waiting on that smile.
Perk up a little.

The bot's legs drag uselessly along the floor.

ROULETTE: I feel it I STIL-L Feel it-t-

 

Its core can't even seem to heat up properly, though it's trying; still too iced over.

CROSSBONE: H-hang on-!

 

Cross lunges foward, wrapping her arms around the robot and digging her heels into the ground.

She feels resistance to the motion, something trying to pull it away.

But it's weak, unable to fight against her, and soon ceases entirely.

Roulette is practically vibrating;
from the cold, from using far too much of what little energy it has left, and out of fear.



It can't speak, and doesn't or can't Move.
Instead, trembling in her arms, too scared to open its lens.
Trying to wait for the ordeal to be over.

CROSSBONE: I-
CROSSBONE: I've got you!
CROSSBONE: I'm not going anywhere!
CROSSBONE: You're-
CROSSBONE: I'll keep you safe, o-okay?

 

Roulette is too overwhelmed to reply, or to Think much at all.

You're falling right into what it wants, you know that?
As soon as you let your guard down around it, you're dead.

You should've seen what it did to Polka in the toy store.

CROSSBONE: Who-
CROSSBONE: I don't care!
CROSSBONE: R-roulette is here now, and that was then-
CROSSBONE: If P-polka thought it'd be an issue, she would have told me!
CROSSBONE: I just! I just have to trust in that!

You'd risk her life for That Thing, then?

The bot goes limp.

ROULETTE: I deserve it, I d-d-es-erv-v-v-
ROULETTE: You aren't Sa-fe with me. No one is-z-s.
ROULETTE: Y-You should've, left me ou-t-T-t There-
CROSSBONE: Roulette's not a thing!
CROSSBONE: Roulette-
CROSSBONE: Roulette is my friend!
 

Her voice comes out extremely stern at that, a harsh beep escaping her.

CROSSBONE: And I'm not going anywhere!
 

---

 

The light seems to move in circles- pausing for a few moments in the distance, seemingly turned away from you...

Your bear companion still says nothing, having been dead silent aside from a few low growls when the voices start up again. He hasn't let go of that knife for a single second, and you have to wonder whether his paw's gone numb from gripping it that hard.

Even so-

It does not approach further.

Polly, you're dealing with the enemy! He's just going to backstab you...

You glance over at the bear, trying not to feel freaked out when you catch him staring right back at you.

POLKA DOT: ...you're not my enemy.

 

He just keeps staring, his gaze fierce.

POLKA DOT: I'm not about to listen to a stupid monster voice, alright?
POLKA DOT: I know you're not going to stab me.
????: ....

He lets his gaze go back to the window, seemingly satisfied with your answer.

Fuck...I just hope Roulette was right about this guy being chill...

The voices continue, little clips of memories mixed in with goading, taunting about the situation...but they fade, bit by bit.

And eventually-

The light seems to bob away, wandering off.

With it, the voices leave as well.

It's dead silent.




You don't know how long it is before either of you speak.

????: It's gone.
POLKA DOT: You sure?
????: The feeling I had-
????: Saddler t-
????: ...it's gone.
????: It'd be stupid to say we're safe, but it's gone.

 

He gets to his feet slowly, keeping an eye on the window as he does.

????: I'm going to fucking sleep.
POLKA DOT: ...eh?
 

You half expected him to stick around here all night.

????: If it's a dumb animal like you said-
????: I'm not dealing with it.
????: Bunkbeds in the other room, right?
POLKA DOT: Yeah, but-
????: I'm taking one.
????: You sleep out here.

 

You blink, your beak hanging open slightly.

????: I don't sleep in the same room as other people.

 

He's already well on his way over, not leaving you room to input.

????: Deal.
POLKA DOT: O....okay.
POLKA DOT: Ssssure.

 

It's just you alone in the room now, and you can't help but desperately wish someone, anyone, would give you a nice hug.

...in the morning I'll find Cross and the others again.
I have to.

The couches aren't the most comfortable, but the one you settle on will just have to do.

...goodnight, me.

You close your eyes, and slip away.

 

---

 

Tim can't fully remember the lyrics to the song he's currently looping in his head, but god damn if he isn't trying. He's got his sword in his lap and his eyes squeezed shut, doing everything he can to focus on the here and now, and on that catchy song on the radio he and Devo thought was the stupidest thing in the world-

Just gotta make it through this. I gotta hear that really dumbass song again. I gotta- I gotta show it to Fatale, and Scout, and even the shadowy guy-

I gotta show all three of them that I've got what it takes to support them!

When he opens his eyes back up-

There's no more slamming.

Maybe a bit of the voice, but just....in the distance, unintelligible.


Whatever was tormenting him is gone now, leaving him in the cold basement.

I....I-

TIMOTHY: I did it.

 

It comes out as an awestruck whisper.

TIMOTHY: I...I did it!
TIMOTHY: It didn't get me!
TIMOTHY: I can still-

 

He has to resist jumping to his feet, knowing it would send his sword flying.

TIMOTHY: I can still make it!
TIMOTHY: I just gotta get through til morning-

 

It's probably still late, though...

He does get to his feet now, but slowly- edging his way over to the bulkhead stairs, tiptoeing over-

And locking the bulkhead.

Won't catch me making that mistake twice...now this place is a proper bunker.

Returning back to his makeshift bed, he realizes just how tired he is-

-and sleep comes for him before he has the strength to object, the dog passing out into a dreamless slumber.

 

---

 

Cross refuses to let go of Roulette, praying with all of her little circuitboard heart that this is all going to be okay-

-and then she realizes.

...I don't feel as cold anymore.

She wiggles one of her feet, letting out a surprised beep when it doesnt feel as frostbitten, not even close.

CROSSBONE: R-roulette!
CROSSBONE: I think it's going away!

 

It's barely conscious, at this point, having exhausted itself far beyond its limits in all the ordeal.

I'm still here.
It flinches, still.
But the voice is fading out, its volume lowering.

I Always am.
You know I'll find you again, don't you?
I'll be back for you, love, don't worry.

Soon enough.






It's gone.

Roulette still hangs in her arms.




Its voice is quiet.
Glitchy. Defeated. Spent.

ROULETTE: ...I don't think I can move...
ROULETTE: ...I apologize...for everything...
CROSSBONE: H...hey...
CROSSBONE: It's okay...

 

She slowly starts moving the bot back over towards the couch, hauling both of their bodies onto it with a flop.

CROSSBONE: I got you.

 

Its half-open lens can't bear to look at her. Too ashamed.

ROULETTE: ...your kindness is wasted on me.
ROULETTE: ...but I appreciate it...all the same.

 

It sprawls out onto the couch.
Roulette tries to adjust itself.
Its joints move a little.

Then, it hitches,
buzzes,
fizzles.
Power glitching, shutting off,
before clicking back on.

Unable to move, still.
Only able to Speak.

CROSSBONE: ...

 

...overload.
I've been there before...
Only real thing we can do is sleep it off...

CROSSBONE: We...should both rest.
CROSSBONE: Whatever was here is hopefully gone now...

 

Even so, she gets up slowly, starting to look over the room with hatchet in hand.

...nothing, not even in any of the nooks and crannies.

The virtual pet closes the barrier tight, blockading it to be extra sure.

CROSSBONE: ...you'll feel better after you sleep, with any luck....
ROULETTE: . . .
ROULETTE: ...Are you, alright. After all that.

 

...am I alright?

It's the first time the thought had occured to her during this whole mess.

She had spent the entire incident entirely focused on saving Roulette, on keeping it safe. Nothing to regret, not by a long shot-

But she's aware of her shaking hands, now. Maybe they were always shaking, and she just didn't notice, maybe it was just the question that did it-

CROSSBONE: ...gotta keep moving, right?
ROULETTE: ...can I help, at all?
CROSSBONE: I-
CROSSBONE: I'm not-
CROSSBONE: ...maybe, I don't know, I'm not...good at letting people help me.
CROSSBONE: Pol- Ribbon's the only one I've let do that since I showed up here.
CROSSBONE: On, a like-
CROSSBONE: Close...friendship level.
CROSSBONE: ....
CROSSBONE: ....but, um...
CROSSBONE: Something...she does with me, when I need it...
CROSSBONE: ...this is going to sound really stupid.
ROULETTE: I'm sure it isn't. You can tell me.
ROULETTE: ...I can't move.
ROULETTE: All I'm good for in this moment, is listening, and speaking.
CROSSBONE: That's all you'd really need...
CROSSBONE: ...
CROSSBONE: So I have, these, like-
CROSSBONE: Toys, in my head, in my screen-
CROSSBONE: Like, the objects, not people...that I can play with.
CROSSBONE: ...I like going through them and seeing what sounds they make.
CROSSBONE: They have, like, different little chimes...
CROSSBONE: And I like it when Ribbon tells me which ones she likes best.
ROULETTE: ...That isn't stupid. Not at all.
ROULETTE: I can do that.
ROULETTE: ...I would not trust my opinions, though.
CROSSBONE: What is there to "trust?" Like-
CROSSBONE: It's just seeing what a friend likes.
CROSSBONE: Not, objective review or anything...
ROULETTE: ...sorry.
ROULETTE: I am happy to help with that, though.
ROULETTE: Feel free.
CROSSBONE: Okay, s-so...
CROSSBONE: This one's a little trumpet....






 

Cross isn't sure how many of her little pixel toys she goes through, but eventually she feels her eyes getting heavy, unable to keep herself from letting out a big yawn.

CROSSBONE: I should probably hit the hay-

 

She glances over at Roulette.

It's already out cold.

Snoozing softly.
At some point it'd managed enough motion to pull a blanket and pillow up for itself.

Cross' pixel character smiles, and she can't help but let out a gentle, pleased chime.

CROSSBONE: ...thank you, Roulette.

 

She scoots over to her own couch, starting to get comfortable and let her eyes close...

She hears something rustle.


A little creak.

She can't tell if she'd fallen asleep or not, or if it'd only been a few moments.
Or if she's dreaming.



Regardless.
She opens her eyes to find


the barricade being
gradually, slowly slid open, little by little.

She's on her feet in an instant, hatchet in hand.

The snouted face of a creature, pokes in from the dark...fairly close to the floor.
Lime green and black stripes.
Some kind of...weasel-ish? Shape? She thinks.

It sniffs the air, creeping in cautiously,
its...Wheels having trouble on the house's floor.

It spots her,
locking eyes momentarily.

It looks frightened, but doesn't move yet, watching her.

Wait...
The thing from earlier?
I think Roulette fed it snacks...


She gets on her knees, setting her hatchet aside and keeping her voice soft.

CROSSBONE: H...hey, little thing....

 

It backs up a step, as she leans down.

Then cautiously enters,
still sniffing about,
still keeping an eye on her.



It doesn't come near her,
its nose apparently drawing it to the sleeping robot on the couch by the fire.

Cross stays frozen, watching carefully.

...I've got my hatchet in case things go bad. I'm fast.

It sniffs a few more times.

Then, its front wheels reach up.
It's surprisingly nimble, for how it looks, startling her as it leaps up atop the couch with Roulette.

Somehow, this doesn't wake the bot.



It looks the bot over, as if expecting more treats.
But seems to realize it's sleeping...you think, anyway.

It paws at its chest with a wheel.
But, gives up.



It glances over at her again, watching her warily,
as


it begins to settle itself atop the Roulette's torso,
cozying up.

It looks tired, too.

Cross gets up slowly, approaching with care.

I'll just pick it up and gently move it somewhere else-

As her hands hover over the car, though-
The creature bristles up, eyes wide.
Ready to run.
Or, potentially, attack.

Its gaze is glued to her hand.

It's warm.

...maybe it can stay there. For now. It might help with the overload...

With a sigh, she trudges back to her couch....and falls promptly back asleep.

As she makes her way back, it settles again.

It keeps its eyes on her,
until they slowly close.

It falls asleep, snoring atop Roulette.

The fire warms up the room, as the storm begins to die down outside.

 

---

 

You wake up in a start, as if expecting something horrible right upon your throat-


-but it's just the cabin, daylight streaming in through the window.

Outside, it's pure white- but you're relieved to see that it's no longer snowing. It's a perfectly sunny day, the heaps of snow on the ground sparkling, completely undisturbed.


It's as if the storm never even happened.

 

---

 

Tim rouses from his sleep with a groan, having spent the night with his plastic sword jabbing into his side.

Thank god these things don't hurt unless you mean them to...

There's no sounds outside. It's probably day, judging by how groggy he feels.

...only one way to find out.




 

---

Cross beeps awake.
Feeling relatively well-rested, despite it all.

One of the weasel's ears twitches at the sound. But it seems to still be Mostly asleep.
Roulette is moving a little more, seeming to be in the gradually process of waking up, but still out of it at present.

....we made it.


What does your party do now?

[knux400]

CROSS: If Roulette is conscious at all, do your best to softly inform it that the car weasel from earlier is now sleeping on its chest. We don't want either of them freaking out and causing a fuss.

POLKA: See if Shadow Bear is up, but be very, very considerate of his space. Knock before entering (even if the door is open) and be as gentle as possible.

TIM: Put your ear against the bulkhead first, and if there doesn't seem to be any noise, unlock it and open it slowly.

ALL THREE: If you guys have a compass or something that can tell you what direction you were heading in before, it's time to get that thing out- or just use the sun. The blizzard definitely covered everyone's tracks, so there's not going to be a way to get back together right away, so the next best thing is for all of you to continue forward and hope the narrative is done with this 'split the party' bullshit.





So, uh. That was a lot??? There is a metric ton of stuff to unpack there, and I think it might be best to wait until everyone's home safe before we even try to digest any of that. Or until the narrative forces us to, which honestly is equally likely. What's important right now is that everyone's safe and (physically) unharmed.

[skinstealer]

You slowly get yourself off the couch, cracking your back before making your way sluggishly over to the cabin's bedroom.

The door's shut tight, and you hesitate while raising your wing up to it.

...he seemed...irritable. Easy to agitate.
But Roulette says he's cool, so-
Maybe...it'll be fine if I just-

 

You knock, screwing your eyes shut as you hear rustling behind the door-

It opens.

POLKA DOT: G-good morning!

 

You open your eyes.

Red cheeks.

FATALE: ...mmmgh.
POLKA DOT: Oh! Oh, uh-
POLKA DOT: Fatale, right?
FATALE: Y-yeah....
FATALE: ...what happened last night?
FATALE: I remember blacking out, and I woke up in bed...
POLKA DOT: U...uh....
POLKA DOT: Well-!
 

She narrows her bead eyes at you.

FATALE: You dealt with him, didn't you?
POLKA DOT: He! He wasn't all that bad!
POLKA DOT: He seemed more agitated than anything dangerous-
FATALE: You're lucky to be alive!
FATALE: You'd have done better tying him up or something- he could have killed you in your sleep!
POLKA DOT: No, he-
POLKA DOT: He just went to bed after the monster or whatever left.
POLKA DOT: Just...tired.
POLKA DOT: ...I didn't feel like he wanted to hurt me.
FATALE: ...hmph.
FATALE: Well...I am glad you're alive.
FATALE: Both in the cases of him and the monster.
FATALE: ...it didn't injure you? Or break in?
POLKA DOT: No, just...scared the shit out of both of us.
POLKA DOT: Felt some weird stuff too, but...it didn't attack.
FATALE: ...I wish I could ask Scout what it is.
FATALE: He would probably know...

 

Her voice is soft, forlorn.

She shakes out of it quickly, however, her eyes determined.

FATALE: We should get out there as soon as possible.
FATALE: ...the rest of our party needs you, after all.
POLKA DOT: Hey, they- they need you too. All of you.
FATALE: Please. Emotionally, yes.
FATALE: Physically, I am well aware of our status as dead weight.
FATALE: ...however, we also do have a compass.
FATALE: Due north, correct?
POLKA DOT: Think so...
FATALE: We head that way and look for landmarks.
FATALE: ...does that sound okay?
POLKA DOT: Works for me...let's eat and head off.





 

Tim sits there for a few moments, going over things in his head.

...okay. I don't- I don't remember which way we were going. That's really bad.
But I need to find the others. I don't want to leave them alone to have god knows what happen to them-
Shit, this is bad. Okay.
I'll eat something and go.

The scottie dog's jerky breakfast tastes dull and bland after the night he'd just had, any tastiness overridden by the sheer exhaustion weighing on him. Maybe he's just too dead to detect any flavor, but more than anything, he just hopes it's not an indicator of narrative fuckery-

Wait!

TIMOTHY: That's it!
TIMOTHY: S...surely...surely the narrative would find it dramatic if we reunited!
TIMOTHY: That would lead to the best story, right?
TIMOTHY: It'd be pretty crummy if I just survived that to die alone...
TIMOTHY: I just have to keep going! And- it'll-
 

...when has the narrative ever had my best interests in mind?
That whole thing in the Toy Store, the voices I heard-

....


....

No. I met my friends and made it to Laurie's.
I need to believe in something. Even if it's directionless for now.
I need- I need to have conviction!
And then I'll get where I'm going!

He finishes his jerky, tucking the empty bag in his pack before slinging it over his shoulders, grabbing his sword, and heading for the bulkhead.

Tim takes a moment to steel himself-


-unlocks the door-


-and hauls the doors open as best as he can with his shoulder, holding his sword tight.


They slam open with a crash, nearly scaring him out of his wits. Snow spills in from the outside, having fallen overnight in the storm. Spluttering, he makes his way out-


Nothing but clear white snow, completely untouched.

...here I come.









Cross gets up slowly, tiptoeing over to Roulette and the little car.

CROSSBONE: ...Roulette.

 

She keeps her voice quiet, but audible.

CROSSBONE: There's- your little friend is back. And on you.

 

The weasel is awoken by her voice, lifting its head to watch her warily.

It takes Roulette a while to do the same, at first just attempting to adjust itself.
The bot tries to roll to its side, but can't manage it with the car-weasel's extra weight.

ROULETTE: ...mmn...

 

Its lens barely opens, coming immediately face-to-face with the car.
Its lens Widens.

CROSSBONE: I-it's okay! It didn't hurt you at all!
CROSSBONE: I think it just, likes you!

 

Roulette looks slowly to its side, noting Cross, then back to the weasel.
The car is unmoving, looking back at Roulette with an impossible-to-read face.

ROULETTE: ...It is...still a wild animal.
ROULETTE: ...I won't assume anything. Let me...

 

It ever-so-slowly shifts itself towards the edge of the couch.
The weasel glances about, at first attempting to move enough to stay on the couch,
but eventually relenting and hopping to the floor.

It moves around to the other side of the couch, away from Cross, but still watches Roulette.



The bot stands, letting out a grunt of strain, holding to the couch.
It reaches over, snagging its scythe, which is promptly has to use to keep itself upright.

Roulette glances out the window.

ROULETTE: ...daylight. And looks like the blizzard has cleared up.
ROULETTE: We should try and regroup with the others.

 

It hobbles towards the door; clearly unsteady, but managing not to fall.
The car follows along.

ROULETTE: . . .
ROULETTE: I'm sorry, I do not have food for you.

 

The weasel keeps looking at the bot, occasionally glancing back at Cross.
Roulette sighs.

ROULETTE: ...this could be a problem.
ROULETTE: I imagine it expects food. It could become agitated and attack later if not given any.
ROULETTE: Or attack someone else later, for similar reasons.
ROULETTE: ...Or just steal more food from other people.
ROULETTE: I should have been more careful.
CROSSBONE: ...that is tricky...
CROSSBONE: Maybe...hmm....
CROSSBONE: Do you think it plays fetch?
CROSSBONE: We could throw something outside and book it.
CROSSBONE: ...kinda mean, but...
ROULETTE: It's fast enough that I doubt that would matter.
ROULETTE: And I do not want it to end up trapped in here.
ROULETTE: ...I'll try and think of something.

 

Roulette pushes the furniture out of the way of the sliding door, instantly exhausting itself in the process.

As it holds itself up on the wall, it stares out into the entryway.

ROULETTE: ...Willow.

 

Cross rushes over, fearing the worst.

CROSSBONE: Y-yeah?
CROSSBONE: Do you need help?

 

It doesn't look at her.

ROULETTE: ...I know it makes no difference.
ROULETTE: But I apologize for...everything yesterday.
ROULETTE: You should not have had to come find me. I should not have done what I did.
ROULETTE: And.
ROULETTE: ...all the things you...heard-
CROSSBONE: ...don't worry about it, okay?
CROSSBONE: I won't tell anyone about what happened if you don't want me to.
CROSSBONE: ...and I meant what I said.
CROSSBONE: Whatever went down between you and Polka...
CROSSBONE: I know her well enough at this point to know that if it was an issue, she would have said something about bringing you along.
CROSSBONE: And from what I can tell, she thinks pretty highly of you, so...
CROSSBONE: ...water under the bridge, okay?
ROULETTE: ...I appreciate it.
ROULETTE: But I think it's a bigger issue than that.
ROULETTE: ...You don't need to deal with any more of that, though.
ROULETTE: I'll do my best not to make any of this a problem.
ROULETTE: You barely know me. Me being your responsibility shouldn't have happened.
ROULETTE: I will do my best not to trouble you again, or...Polka, for that matter.
ROULETTE: I will handle and conduct myself better, as much as I'm able to.

 

It makes its way out of the living room, heading for the front door.
The car-weasel rolls along after it.

Cross stands there for a moment, steeling herself....before following suit.

It clutches the front door when it reaches it,
trying to disguise that it's holding onto it for support.

ROULETTE: ...and.
ROULETTE: ...thank you. For not letting me die.
ROULETTE: Devo, and the rest, did not need that weighing on them.
CROSSBONE: ...no one wants that for you, Roulette....
CROSSBONE: ...let's get back to them, alright?
ROULETTE: ...I'll get you back to her.

 

It opens the door, stepping out into piles upon piles of snow,
which immediately become difficult for the still-recovering bot to maneuver in.
It pushes forward regardless.

ROULETTE: ...we were on our way north.
ROULETTE: So, based on the sun's location...that way.
ROULETTE: ...I moved west and walked in parallel with you all, before, but I don't know which direction this manor is in relation.
ROULETTE: Do you remember which direction you went?
CROSSBONE: ...more west, I think.
CROSSBONE: It wouldn't be a bad idea to follow which direction the trees get thicker in, I think.
CROSSBONE: Hallowed Wood being the goal, and all.
ROULETTE: We can. But we also want enough of a field of view to spot the others.
ROULETTE: Northeast is likely our best bet, then.

 

It stumbles, and recovers.
The car nudges its leg, though the bot tries not to give it attention.

ROULETTE: Ready, Willow?

 

She nods, keeping a close eye on the bot.

CROSSBONE: Ready when you are.
CROSSBONE: ...let me know if you need help, okay?

 

It already seems to be stubbornly pushing itself beyond its limits.

ROULETTE: I appreciate it. I'll handle it.




 

The snow easily comes a quarter up your leg as you trudge through it, grateful for your snowpants. The trees are definitely getting thicker, and all you can really hope for is that the others are heading the same direction...

Fatale seems to be struggling through it, her expression furrowed and scrunched.

POLKA DOT: ...you holding up okay?
FATALE: I-I'm!
FATALE: I'm great-!
POLKA DOT: You don't have to lie.
FATALE: Not in the mood to bitch, believe it or not...
FATALE: Let's just keep moving.



 

It feels like an hour, maybe two, who even knows, passes before you see it.

A flash of red, to your east.

You squint.

Red, black, and white.

It freezes as you look over, shaking Fatale's shoulder for her to look.

FATALE: ...oh my god.

 

The shape starts running at you-

-and you run back towards him.

TIMOTHY: R-RIBBON!
TIMOTHY: F-FATALE!

 

The two of you slam together in a big hug, both of you shaking and trying not to cry.

POLKA DOT: Oh my god, I-
POLKA DOT: You blew right away-
TIMOTHY: You're okay, you're both okay-

 

He lets go after a moment, rushing over to Fatale.

It's clear he wants a hug, but he hesitates, unsure how to handle the situation.

Fatale rolls her eyes, relenting.

FATALE: ...come here.

 

She opens her arms, Tim wrapping his own around with a delicacy that surprises her.

TIMOTHY: ...I'm so sorry.
TIMOTHY: I- you were going to try and trust me-
TIMOTHY: And I left you alone.
TIMOTHY: I'm...I'm so sorry.

 

His shoulders start shaking again, Fatale giving him a light, awkward pat on the back.

FATALE: Please.
FATALE: I'm not about to blame you for the worst storm I've ever seen.
FATALE: Give me some credit.
TIMOTHY: I-

 

Tim pulls back, wiping his eyes and nodding.

TIMOTHY: ...okay. You're right.
TIMOTHY: I'm just- I'm so relieved you're okay...
POLKA DOT: I mean, same here! Sheesh...
FATALE: ...

 

Fatale pulls away, rubbing her elbow.

FATALE: Do...you think Roulette and Willow are okay?
POLKA DOT: ...they have to be.
POLKA DOT: Just.
POLKA DOT: They gotta.




 

The three of you start trudging further north, the light filtering in through the canopy overhead just enough to have a good idea of where you were going. There's not a lot of conversation, everyone too exhausted to even go into the night prior...and fearful of the status of the other two party members.


Your party reaches a clearing where the trees thin.


Far to the east, you spot an odd-looking, large figure.

You squint.



Two figures.
One hold the other up by the shoulder as they walk in tandem.

You practically drop your backpack in order to run, Fatale and Tim following behind as best as theye can with their packs still on.

POLKA DOT: WILLOW!
FATALE: Is that Roulette?!
POLKA DOT: I-I think so!
TIMOTHY: Fuck, is it okay-?!





ROULETTE: ...Willow.

 

The camera-bot gestures the virtual pet towards the east horizon.



There's a sense of relief in its voice.
Though, it doesn't seem entirely eager.

The car-weasel, meanwhile, keeps itself hidden behind the bot.

CROSSBONE: Oh my-!

 

Cross doesn't drop Roulette or speed up, simply letting out a string of loud beeps and lashing her chain tail around.

CROSSBONE: H-HEY! WE'RE OVER HERE!

 

You're practically falling over yourself as you stumble in front of them, taking a minute to catch yourself before realizing that you cannot immediately go for the hug move while Roulette's being propped up.

POLKA DOT: I...I knew you two would be okay.
CROSSBONE: I promised.

 

Roulette notices the lack of hug and pulls away from Cross, using its scythe to hold itself up.
Allowing the two to do so.

You squeak one in, giving Cross a huge squeeze.

Fatale's caught up in the meantime, rushing over to Roulette.

FATALE: I-!
FATALE: I'm so glad you're okay-

 

The bot nods, unable to drum up much excitement in its exhausted state.

ROULETTE: I...am. Very, very glad you are alright.
ROULETTE: I am sorry I left. I cannot apologize enough.
ROULETTE: It was extremely foolish of me, and I put...you, Willow, everyone in danger-
FATALE: You're back now!
FATALE: Don't do that again, but-
FATALE: ...I'm...just glad you're back.
FATALE: I was scared that- I was scared that our last conversations would have been-

 

She turns away, slightly.

FATALE: ...I didn't want you to die having hated me.

 

It finally, properly looks up.

ROULETTE: ...I have never hated you. Any of you.
ROULETTE: I Never Could.
ROULETTE: ...please...please don't think that.

 

Oil pools at the edges of its lens, barely visible,
unable to hold back all of the emotions that'd been building.

FATALE: I'm-
FATALE: I'm sorry-
ROULETTE: You do not owe me an apology.
ROULETTE: You did Not do anything wrong.
ROULETTE: I-

 

It tries to take a step forward, and loses its balance, barely managing to catch itself with its scythe.
Its repositioning inadvertently reveals the weasel-car hiding behind it.

Fatale's eyes widen-

-but she prioritizes helping Roulette back up, choosing to squint over its shoulder at the car and give it a clear warning sign.

The car squeezes itself up behind Roulette's legs, eyes wide.

It lets out the tiniest growl at Fatale; brief, and clearly frightened.

ROULETTE: Sorry-
ROULETTE: It. Followed me. It hasn't Stopped following me.
ROULETTE: I don't want to antagonize it.
ROULETTE: ...I have been doing my best not to give it affection or food or, anything, hoping it will leave.
ROULETTE: But it-

 

The car nudges against the bot's leg.

ROULETTE: ...it does not want to leave.
ROULETTE: I am not sure what to do.
FATALE: ...it didn't attack you?
FATALE: Or try to steal again?
ROULETTE: No.
ROULETTE: It-

 

Roulette struggles to speak, looking at the ground.
Embarrassed, maybe?
It's always difficult to tell.

ROULETTE: Slept.
ROULETTE: ...On....me.
ROULETTE: I assumed it might've been cold, but.
ROULETTE: I had nearly frozen to death, I wasn't warm.
ROULETTE: And I was just next to a fireplace. It could have laid down beside the couch instead, closer to the fireplace.
ROULETTE: ...I assume it's still just waiting for food. I have no idea.
TIMOTHY: ...maybe it likes you?
FATALE: Wait, you-
FATALE: You nearly froze to death?

 

Her eyes go wide.

CROSSBONE: I helped where I could, but...
CROSSBONE: I'm really glad that I found it.
ROULETTE: It-
ROULETTE: Sorry. I should not have phrased it like that.
ROULETTE: It wasn't that dire.
ROULETTE: And Willow helped tremendously.
ROULETTE: You do not need to worry.
ROULETTE: Is everyone else alright?
ROULETTE: We should keep moving, if everyone's ready.

 

Cross seems to consider saying something, but sighs.

CROSSBONE: Heading north more is our best bet. We're almost there.
FATALE: Let's get on with it, then...
TIMOTHY: I'm in favor. We can talk on the way.
POLKA DOT: Lemme just get my bag...

 

You head back to get your backpack, hauling it on....and going on your way with the rest, finally reunited.



You are now back in control of Polka Dot. There's a lot to talk about...

[ThreadLurkingComorant]

You should convey a bit of where your mind is at right now for sure, get everyone to re-calibrate their brains and nerves. A lot of weird fucked up shit happened over the course of the blizzard as well. share some thoughts on that. Honestly wouldn't hurt to take quick inventory to know what your limits are for continuing your venture.

[knux400]

Keep an eye on the car-weasel. Roulette said it was following it, but let's see how it responds to having three more people around.