[TOY] Plaything

[ThreadLurkingComorant]

Out of curiosity, do the colors mean anything at all?

Also is it really just only Devo who forgets? Anything that's ever managed to sneak into waking memory inspite of this issue?

Any correlation to when dreams are able to connect ya'll? Is it consistent? Disconnected?

[skinstealer]

POLKA DOT: ...is it really just only Devo who forgets?
FATALE: As far as I can tell, yes.
FATALE: Scout and I remember the dreams very well, and considering the shadowy bear has it out for-
 

She avoids eye contact with Roulette, clearly unsure of what to make of its testimony.

 

Roulette looks at the floor.

FATALE: ...or, at the very least, doesn't like us specifically-
FATALE: We have no reason to believe he doesn't remember them as well.
FATALE: Anything that manages to slip through the cracks...I wouldn't know too much about, if he hadn't told me in a dream specifically.
FATALE: It feels like he is holding onto little bits and pieces, but never the big picture.
FATALE: ...keeps....calling us doppelgangers.
FATALE: ....
FATALE: I don't care for it, much.
TIMOTHY: He's brought up the doppelganger thing, yeah...
CROSSBONE: I remember it coming up while talking with Wanderer.
FATALE: Mm.
FATALE: There have been...moments, where one of us others pops up when he's fully out.
FATALE: This happened a bit during training over the past few...however long it's been.
FATALE: ...I'm not sure how much memory he retains during those moments.
TIMOTHY: ...from what I remember, he felt really woozy during a bunch of our training sessions...
FATALE: ...hm. Noted.
POLKA DOT: So...the different colors, that...correlates, right?
FATALE: Correct.
POLKA DOT: Do they...mean anything?
 

Fatale visibly bristles.

FATALE: ...it's just a change in color accents.
FATALE: What meaning is there to be derived from just a color?
FATALE: Ridiculous.
FATALE: Don't look too much into it.
 

You rub the back of your head.

POLKA DOT: S...sorry.
FATALE: Hmph. Next question.
TIMOTHY: I have one, if that's-
 

Fatale's muzzle scrunches in a pre-emptive grimace, Tim's ears flopping at the sight of it.

TIMOTHY: -if that's okay.
FATALE: I did agree to this, so, go ahead.
 

She doesn't sound happy about it, but Tim presses on.

TIMOTHY: How, exactly, u-uh-
TIMOTHY: I know this-
TIMOTHY: ...
TIMOTHY: How am I going to, uh, navigate, all this?
TIMOTHY: With-
TIMOTHY: Not just relationship stuff, but also that, but like-
TIMOTHY: We tend to spend a lot of time together, and we're working together as a team here.
TIMOTHY: Are we, just, going to drop everything if you or the shadowy guy come out?
 

Fatale jiggles her leg, thinking it over.

FATALE: ...I suppose I don't have an ideal answer.
FATALE: The life I once knew is gone now, replaced with the one Devo's built.
FATALE: I don't particularly miss a lot about that life.
FATALE: And I can see appeal in what Devo's sought out.
FATALE: But I don't know where I fit into it all, yet.
FATALE: ...and I can't speak for the other one.
FATALE: Scout has expressed wanting to be involved in just about everything, so...
FATALE: Congrats, you may have picked up a second boyfriend.
FATALE: Lucky you.
 

Her tone on the last line isn't necessarily mocking, more...resigned.

TIMOTHY: ...I...guess I'll talk to him about it when I get the chance.
TIMOTHY: Thank you.
TIMOTHY: ...I'll give you and the shadow guy some space, when I can.
 

Fatale blinks, not expecting that kind of response.

FATALE: ...that'd...be best.
FATALE: As for the rest...I am willing to work as a team member, for the time being.
FATALE: If combat truly does bring me out, you may have to put up with me being here a decent amount.
FATALE: ...there won't be any repeats of my behavior from earlier, with any luck.
CROSSBONE: Well, I-
CROSSBONE: I appreciate the help...
 

Fatale simply nods, gesturing for the next question.

POLKA DOT: ...are there any correlations for y'all being able to connect in dreams?
POLKA DOT: Is it, like, consistent? Or disconnected?
FATALE: ...to be honest, due to not having much time in the outside world, it's hard to tell.
FATALE: It all kind of blends together.
FATALE: One dream flowing into the next one, I suppose.
FATALE: But...
FATALE: I would argue that it has to be fairly regular.
FATALE: Regular enough, anyhow.
CROSSBONE: Hmm....
CROSSBONE: I guess the only question I have is how we can make things easier on you.
CROSSBONE: ...that's okay to ask, right?
 

Fatale looks surprised at the question, but responds eagerly.

FATALE: Well!
FATALE: Timothy's already agreed not to touch me, so that's a plus.
FATALE: I suppose checking in on what color we are would be ideal.
FATALE: And...keeping track of what's happening, so you can refresh whoever's out on past events.
FATALE: Polka suggested getting a little notepad to scribble in when possible, but...
FATALE: We are trusting you all to keep us up to speed.
FATALE: ...even you, Timothy.
TIMOTHY: O-oh, uh!
TIMOTHY: Yeah! Of....of course I can help with that.
POLKA DOT: S-so, uh...
POLKA DOT: I've got a topic change, kinda.
POLKA DOT: Wasn't planning on doing this so I'm sorry to Fatale-
FATALE: Please, I'd love a break from question barrage.
CROSSBONE: What's up, Ribbon?
POLKA DOT: ...
POLKA DOT: The...weird dreams, lately.
POLKA DOT: Have they been getting weirder for anyone else?

Roulette's head sinks in against its shoulders as it glances away.

 

Tim looks similarly uncomfortable.

FATALE: ...ours are....mostly literal.
FATALE: As literal as a dream can even be, anyhow.
FATALE: It's the four of us interacting in a space that seems to stay consistent, though sometimes there are changes.
FATALE: I have my room, Scout has his, and...the shadowy one has his, somewhat.
TIMOTHY: ...Does Devo have a room?
FATALE: ...not that I know of.
TIMOTHY: Oh...
 

The red bear sighs.

FATALE: I can't do much to change that fact, but he's been welcome in mine and Scout's.
FATALE: ...aside from that, they're mainly just ways for us to converse.
FATALE: Not very useful to any of you.
CROSSBONE: ...mine mainly have to do with the monster transformation, which...has been the same for a few weeks.
CROSSBONE: Sometimes I do dream of other things, though...
CROSSBONE: ...there's one that's been standing out to me a lot, but I still don't know why.
POLKA DOT: ...oh?
 

You remember hearing about plenty of monster dreams, but...

CROSSBONE: Mhm....I keep forgetting to bring it up.
CROSSBONE: There's this...dust cloud.
CROSSBONE: A sword sits in the middle, but it's like it's made up of all these different kinds of plastic, no one mold to it....
FATALE: ...Hm.
FATALE: I don't see how that has much bearing.
CROSSBONE: Neither do I, but-
CROSSBONE: What I keep coming back to is all the drawings on the ground around it.
CROSSBONE: ...weird...rabbit things.
CROSSBONE: Or something with long ears.
 

You almost miss it, but you swear you see Fatale's eyes widen-

-and flash yellow, if only for a moment.

POLKA DOT: I, uh-
 

Fatale notices the look on your face.

FATALE: What is it?
POLKA DOT: You-
 

You gesture to her eyes, the bear not understanding for a moment before making an expression of shock and recognition.

FATALE: Right now?
FATALE: I could barely feel it!
TIMOTHY: H-huh?
POLKA DOT: There was yellow for a second.
FATALE: Scout...I'm not sure what could have drawn him out, there.
FATALE: Likely something to do with him and his books.
FATALE: If he didn't stick around, there's not likely to be all that much importance to it.
FATALE: ...at least, I think so.
TIMOTHY: ...well...hi, to Scout....
 

A little blush crosses his cheeks.

TIMOTHY: ...If he can hear me.
FATALE: ...I'll...pass it on.
FATALE: ...Ribbon, you're the one who brought the dreams up.
FATALE: Have you had any?
POLKA DOT: W-well, uh-
POLKA DOT: Yyyyeah.
POLKA DOT: Last night, before I got woken up this morning, I had...
POLKA DOT: ...a weird one. Wasn't great.
POLKA DOT: But I heard the voices of the, uh- the different bears.
 

You gesture to Fatale, the red bear's face paling.

POLKA DOT: That's how I was able to recognize her as her own person.
POLKA DOT: I saw Devo, but the other voices and colors were there too.
FATALE: Well that's-
FATALE: Intrusive.
POLKA DOT: I'm n-not choosing to do it!
FATALE: Still!
 

There's quiet for a few moments before Tim speaks up.

TIMOTHY: ...did you...see anything else?

[ThreadLurkingComorant]

Just lay out what you've seen, as much as you could make out and see if you're able to register much of anything.

If there's some validity to these, getting other people's insights would be very valuable.

You have no idea why these are happening, if these are visions, if any of these are something to begin with or just coincidence. That's something to let people know but not eliminate the possibilities without evidence

Could be a warning for all you know.

[knux400]

Seconding Como's suggestion. Just try and explain everything as calmly as you can, even though there's some pretty scary stuff in there. Stop if anyone seems too overwhelmed.

Briefly regarding Scout popping in just now, it seems to be related to creatures and wildlife? He seemed interested in the duster yesterday, and this rabbit thing might also be some new kind of creature he's curious about. It might honestly be as simple as "oh a cool bug, let me see".

[skinstealer]

You nod.

POLKA DOT: It's hard to figure out a place to start, but...
POLKA DOT: It started with me walking into the ruins from yesterday- but like, before it was ruins.
POLKA DOT: There was this...circle, and I went and stood in it.
POLKA DOT: ...people started showing up in it too, and I saw, like...
 

You are now realizing just how...private these visions must have been- or at least, if they were actually depicting things accurately for people.

POLKA DOT: ...reflections of them, I guess.
TIMOTHY: ...well, what does-
TIMOTHY: What did you see, then?
POLKA DOT: ...
POLKA DOT: Like I said, the...bears? Were there, not first, but-
POLKA DOT: I saw Devo, like...talking to the other voices.
POLKA DOT: There were all these colors, and everyone seemed pretty at odds with each other...
POLKA DOT: Eventually it all came to a stop, when- the shadowy one talked.
 

Fatale tenses up.

FATALE: ...what did he say?
POLKA DOT: Something along the lines of..."making them see the real you", or something, to Devo.
POLKA DOT: Them being...us, I guess.
 

The red bear makes a loud "tsk" sound, looking away.

FATALE: The nerve.
FATALE: Always thinking he knows everything...
POLKA DOT: He didn't say much, but...didn't sound very friendly.
FATALE: That's because he isn't.
CROSSBONE: ...it's...a dream, though.
CROSSBONE: Yeah, it's- it's very, very weird that he would show up when you don't actually know him, but-
CROSSBONE: We can't...make judgments based on a dream.
CROSSBONE: At least, I'd- I'd rather know this person first.
FATALE: ...
 

She "hmph"'s, but doesn't speak up further.

CROSSBONE: ...were we all there?
POLKA DOT: Yeah.
POLKA DOT: You were...
 

You feel yourself have trouble, with this one.

POLKA DOT: You were low battery.
POLKA DOT: And, not doing good-
POLKA DOT: You kept talking about...a reset.
POLKA DOT: To have me reset you.
 

Cross makes a startled beep before wringing her hands.

CROSSBONE: Oh, I-
CROSSBONE: I'm sorry.
CROSSBONE: I- I wouldn't ask you to do that.
CROSSBONE: It's- it's something I used to think about a lot, before we met, but-
CROSSBONE: ...
CROSSBONE: Sorry.
 

...you aren't sure what to say.

TIMOTHY: Okay, so-!
TIMOTHY: It's definitely showing personal stuff!
TIMOTHY: Things that- are not really things people want to be known.
 

You can see some franticness in his eyes, your own anxiety rising.

TIMOTHY: What was there-
TIMOTHY: -f-for me.
 

It comes out as a pained exhale.

POLKA DOT: ...
POLKA DOT: You had...ropes on you.
POLKA DOT: Lots of them, and they kept getting tighter.
POLKA DOT: There was this- this other toy there, and she was calling you the wrong na-
TIMOTHY: Don't say it.
TIMOTHY: Just-
TIMOTHY: I want to know the rest.
TIMOTHY: ...but not the name.
TIMOTHY: Something...about that feels like it's too much.
 

He rubs his eyes.

TIMOTHY: ...it's not something I want to remember.
 

Fatale seems to  have some degree of...recognition on her face, as if considering expressing sympathy and deciding against it.

POLKA DOT: ...that's fine, man.
POLKA DOT: She was just...weird to you.
POLKA DOT: Trying to say we were bad influences.
TIMOTHY: ....
 

He nods, taking it in.

TIMOTHY: ...sounds about right....
TIMOTHY: ...
TIMOTHY: ...thank you, for telling me.
TIMOTHY: I...don't buy into the idea that you're "bad influences", any of you.
TIMOTHY: So...whoever that was, she can fuck off, or whatever.
TIMOTHY: Weird...dream person.
 

There's quiet as the obvious next step in the explanation sinks in, Roulette's refusal to say anything feeling....foreboding.

...you are not sure you want to talk about it either, to be frank.

POLKA DOT: So, uh-
POLKA DOT: With-
POLKA DOT: Uh-
POLKA DOT: Roulette's, stuff-
 

Roulette's lens opens a couple millimeters wider at mention of itself.
It's still glancing away, or at the floor; anywhere but at Anyone in the group.

POLKA DOT: It had its scarf on, and there were these eyes it was talking back and forth with-
POLKA DOT: Some of it sounded familiar, but it's hard to say.
POLKA DOT: ...a lot of negative stuff. None of it was really...kind, or positive, or anything-
 

...you don't really want to elaborate on that.

POLKA DOT: And the eyes on its scarf would close. The wall ones, too.
POLKA DOT: ...until it got...put in some kind of cage.
POLKA DOT: Sorry, I-
POLKA DOT: I can't remember every detail.
 

You expect to hear the robot's fans whirring up faster as they usually do, but strangely they drop in speed to a near-whisper in volume.
The bot has yet to look at you, its posture statue-still.

ROULETTE: . . .
ROULETTE: I apologize.
ROULETTE: That you had to deal with any of that.
ROULETTE: ...If that's all you need from me, I should return to my post.
ROULETTE: I do not want to leave us undefended.
POLKA DOT: W-wait, uh-
POLKA DOT: At the end of the dream, everyone-
 

You don't have it in you to go into specifics.

POLKA DOT: ...died, I think.
POLKA DOT: ...
POLKA DOT: ....it...was a shitty nightmare.
ROULETTE:    .   .   .
ROULETTE: ...everyone?
POLKA DOT: ...yeah.
POLKA DOT: I...think, it might have just been stress on my end.
ROULETTE: ...I. Apologize.
ROULETTE: ...that you had. T-o...
 

It trails off.

FATALE: It's a dream.

Her voice comes out cold, irritated at first- but softens.

FATALE: It's not something you- or any of us- need to apologize for.
FATALE: Yes, it's showing Polka things she has no right to know.
POLKA DOT: H-hey-
FATALE: But it doesn't sound like Polka has a situation like mine, where dreams are all I have.
FATALE: If anything, it sounds like the narrative's trying to rattle us.
FATALE: Well!
FATALE: I refuse to kneel to it!
CROSSBONE: But-!
FATALE: No but's!
FATALE: You want this, don't you?
CROSSBONE: Y-yes, well-
FATALE: Then have a spine and own it.
 

Roulette 'calmly' makes its way to the tent entrance.

ROULETTE: I need to return to keeping watch.
ROULETTE: Ap...ologies.
FATALE: Roule-!
 

She sighs, unable to get the word out before it's gone.

FATALE: ...
TIMOTHY: ...
CROSSBONE: ...
POLKA DOT: ....
CROSSBONE: ...are you sure, we should keep going?
CROSSBONE: I could go alone-
TIMOTHY: No way.
TIMOTHY: We're not that far out yet, but-
TIMOTHY: Fatale is...probably right.
TIMOTHY: It's just the narrative trying to shake us up.
TIMOTHY: Makes for a "better story", right?
CROSSBONE: ...right.
CROSSBONE: ...I just hope I'm doing the right thing...
FATALE: Well...
 

The bear gets up with a stretch, heading back to her and Tim's section of the tent.

FATALE: I'm not risking my life for this to be nothing to you.
FATALE: You'll get what you want one way or another.
FATALE: I'm going to gather our things.
TIMOTHY: Do you need any help-
FATALE: No.
TIMOTHY: ...got it.
TIMOTHY: I'll...wait for you to clear out, then.
CROSSBONE: I...should clean up too.
CROSSBONE: We don't want to lose too much daylight...
 

With that, the party fully disperses, leaving you in the center of the tent.

Cross is in your section, Fatale is in hers, and Tim's close by, by the fire. Roulette's outside, keeping watch.

...what do you do now? Is there anything you want to do before leaving?

[ThreadLurkingComorant]

Take inventory, help things get going, look for the least irritated person around and ask them what they think about the day ahead of you.

[Lilium Mortem]

Maybe you should take a moment for yourself. It's been... A lot.

[skinstealer]

...this is a lot.
I need a second.

You head to the side and lean against the wall of the tent, trying to get your thoughts in order.

So much is happening, but- we can't give up here.
Fatale's willing to cooperate, and Tim's going to do his best there. I can't be too preoccupied with their drama.
...worried about Roulette. Not sure what's up with it right now.
But...I really should check on Cross....
....
I hope everyone's going to be okay. Fuck.

You close your eyes and try to think back to happy, calming thoughts. Cooking. Holding Cross. Hanging out with Tim. Those weird horny dreams, even.

It's gonna be okay.

With new conviction, you head for your portion of the tent.

I could do something to help. Maybe take inventory-

Cross is already there, sorting through her stuff- and yours, by the look of it.

POLKA DOT: ...Hey.
CROSSBONE: O-oh! Hi.
CROSSBONE: I'm just-
 

Your girlfriend gestures to the mess of stuff around her.

CROSSBONE: Organizing.
 

...she's on top of it already, I guess.

CROSSBONE: ...it helps me think.
POLKA DOT: Lot to think about, huh?
CROSSBONE: No kidding...
 

She sighs, a soft humming sound.

CROSSBONE: I'm starting to feel doubts, but...
CROSSBONE: ...Fatale is right in that I should commit.
CROSSBONE: For some reason, hearing it from a relative stranger helps a lot...
CROSSBONE: ...
CROSSBONE: Feels like we're all going to have something uncovered by the end of this, though.
POLKA DOT: ...yeah.
CROSSBONE: ....
 

The atmosphere is awkward, the two of you unsure of what to say as Cross moves items from one pile to another. You're not even sure what kind of sorting she's doing, but...if it helps, you guess it's fine.

CROSSBONE: I've got your stuff covered. It'll be packed up when I'm done.
CROSSBONE: I think I...need some space to think things over.
POLKA DOT: ...I getcha.
POLKA DOT: Can I at least give you a kiss before I go bug somebody else?
 

She nods, and you lean over to give her an exaggerated peck on the forehead. Her little giggles come out and make your  chest tighten, and you feel just the slightest bit better.

POLKA DOT: Love you.
CROSSBONE: Love you too...
POLKA DOT: I'll go check on Roulette, then. Bring my stuff out when you're done?
CROSSBONE: Can do!
 

You sneak in one more kiss, and head out of the tent.

Roulette surprises you as you come out;
standing guard rigidly, in the same position it'd been doing so before.

Only this time, snow is accumulating along its shoulders and atop its hat.

You look up to find the snow lazily drifting down,
adding to the piles on the ground.

ROULETTE: Are we leaving now?
 

It doesn't move an inch from its spot.

POLKA DOT: Soon.
POLKA DOT: People're packing up.
POLKA DOT: ...
 

You tilt your head at its current situation.

POLKA DOT: You, uh-
POLKA DOT: You've got some snow there.
ROULETTE: Yes.
POLKA DOT: ...yep.
POLKA DOT: It's not, uh, too cold, right?
POLKA DOT: I know Willow gets kinda sluggish if it's chilly out...
ROULETTE: You do not need to worry about me.
ROULETTE: Did you need anything?
ROULETTE: . . .
ROULETTE: ...I should focus on taking watch until we leave.
ROULETTE: I do not want to miss any threats, as with last time.
POLKA DOT: I mean-
POLKA DOT: I can watch, too.
POLKA DOT: Just wanna talk to somebody before we head out.
ROULETTE: . . .
 

It shuffles on the spot, fans slowing down to a whisper.

ROULETTE: I have never been good at conversation.
ROULETTE: I do not think I would be good company for that purpose.
POLKA DOT: I mean, I like talking to you.
POLKA DOT: You really helped with Fatale earlier. All of the, like, background info.
POLKA DOT: Helped me understand her.
POLKA DOT: ...
POLKA DOT: Feels like you'd have good thoughts about how today's gonna go.
ROULETTE:    .   .   .
ROULETTE: I am
ROULETTE: glad
ROULETTE: that it. Helped.
 

You hear the bot's fan hitching, as if it were getting caught on something,
suddenly kicking up in speed, but getting stuck intermittently in the process.

ROULETTE: Today would
ROULETTE: Today
ROULETTE: T
ROULETTE: ...I am
ROULETTE: Sure.
ROULETTE: Sure that t
ROULETTE: I was thinking that- Today.
ROULETTE: ...It's snowing.
ROULETTE: M
ROULETTE: aybe Cross s
ROULETTE: We
 

It reaches up, smacking the top of its head with a closed fist.
Its fans stop hitching.

ROULETTE: ...Apologies.
ROULETTE: We should keep an extra blanket or two out of our packs, in case Cross or anyone else gets too cold.
ROULETTE: Since you mentioned. That she can become sluggish in cold.
ROULETTE: I hope that is helpful.
 

You wince as it smacks itself, unable to keep from flinching a little.

POLKA DOT: S-sure. We can do that.
POLKA DOT: Good to, uh-
POLKA DOT: Take measures.
POLKA DOT: Yeah.
 

It notices the flinch, glancing over.

ROULETTE: Apologies.
ROULETTE: I am not well-put-together.
ROULETTE: Sometimes I need a knock to function properly.
ROULETTE: I did not mean to scare you.
POLKA DOT: No, it's-
POLKA DOT: I get it. Yeah.
POLKA DOT: Does it, uh- help?
ROULETTE: Sometimes it helps.
ROULETTE: It is really the only thing to try.
ROULETTE: As I said, I apologize for the scare.
ROULETTE: I am sure it can look visceral, but sometimes it's necessary to remain as functionally-adequate as I can.
ROULETTE: It is nothing to worry about.
ROULETTE: . . .
ROULETTE: Was there anything else you needed help with?
POLKA DOT: I-
 

Someone unzips the tent behind you and steps out- Tim and Fatale, all geared up.

FATALE: ...were we interrupting something?
TIMOTHY: Willow said she's just about ready to go.
ROULETTE: You are not interrupting anything.
ROULETTE: Silk Ribbon was asking about our journey today.
ROULETTE: Maybe you could speak with her about your opinions on that.
ROULETTE: ...Either of you. Whoever would like to. Or both.
ROULETTE: I am sure both of your input would be valuable.
 

It steps towards the tent entrance.

ROULETTE: I will make sure we are not leaving anything behind.
TIMOTHY: Oh, uh-
TIMOTHY: S...sure!
FATALE: Mm.
 

The bot disappears into the tent.

You're left with the two bean plushes, Tim shuffling around a bit.

TIMOTHY: Well, it's-
TIMOTHY: It's snowing!
FATALE: It's winter. It does that.
TIMOTHY: Yeah, but-
TIMOTHY: Technically, it's my first one out of the Store.
TIMOTHY: First one period, I guess.
FATALE: ...
 

She looks away.

FATALE: You get used to it.
TIMOTHY: ...
 

Tim gives her a strained look, almost as if he wants to say something out of concern-

-before turning to you.

TIMOTHY: I...today has been a lot so far, but I'm trying to get my head on straight.
TIMOTHY: Lot to think about, but-
TIMOTHY: It....we're on this adventure to help Willow.
TIMOTHY: Me and Fatale did talk about that, a bit.
FATALE: ...We reinforced our truce. Came up with some additional conditions.
FATALE: Simply put, I won't get in his way if he doesn't get in mine.
FATALE: In exchange for him behaving around me and not getting touchy, I'll put in a good word in our- us bears, I mean- next shared dream.
FATALE: With Scout, at minimum.
FATALE: ...I'm sure Scout'll be pleased to know there's some interest in him.

She doesn't sound thrilled about this, but Tim can't help but blush a little.

FATALE: If I'm going to be along for the ride for helping Willow, I may as well make it easier on myself- at least for now.
FATALE: We'll see how it goes.
 

Cross steps out before the two can continue, Roulette in tow.

CROSSBONE: Everybody ready to take the tent down?
TIMOTHY: Let's get it done.
 

The tent is packed up and stuffed into Fatale's pack, the map consulted and the walk resumed. The snow isn't too bad, just a light powder- but it does keep tickling your beak.

You're walking with Cross when she leans over.

CROSSBONE: ...look at how we're walking right now.
 

You glance over your shoulder, taking a mental note.

You and Cross are up front, leading the pack. Tim and Fatale are next to each other but a good few feet apart, clearly awkward. Roulette is way, way in back, also saying nothing.

CROSSBONE: I wanna swap places with Tim. He probably needs you right now...
CROSSBONE: And...maybe Fatale needs a buddy, too.
POLKA DOT: You good with that?
CROSSBONE: Mhm...
CROSSBONE: You're always saying I need to work on being more...spontaneous.
CROSSBONE: Is that okay?
POLKA DOT: Sure thing. Shuffle Tim on up here.

Cross nods, backing up a bit and bumping shoulders with Tim. You can't make out what's said, but Tim swaps places with her, running up to meet you.

TIMOTHY: H-hey!
TIMOTHY: Looks like I, uh, got a get out of jail free card, huh?
POLKA DOT: Looks like it.
POLKA DOT: ...Fatale's not that bad, though.
TIMOTHY: I know, I know-
TIMOTHY: But it sure is awkward.
TIMOTHY: It's...I mean, how do you even process this kind of thing?
TIMOTHY: My boyfriend is four people? When the other three aren't him, too?
TIMOTHY: It's making my head spin, but it makes too much sense...
 

He buries his nose in his scarf.

TIMOTHY: I...just hope I don't fuck it up.
TIMOTHY: And I hope Devo's gonna be okay when he comes back.
TIMOTHY: I can't imagine this is going to be easy on him, considering just-
TIMOTHY: I dunno. He doesn't even remember the rest of them.
TIMOTHY: No idea what I'd do in those shoes.
POLKA DOT: Me neither.
POLKA DOT: But, he's like- he's got a good head on his shoulders.
POLKA DOT: It'll work out.
 

Your friend gives you a grateful look.

TIMOTHY: I sure hope so.
CROSSBONE: Hey!
FATALE: ...hello.

Fatale's voice is quiet, contemplative.

FATALE: Come to see the new party member?
CROSSBONE: A little bit...
CROSSBONE: I really...appreciate what you said back in the group meeting.
CROSSBONE: About me needing to have conviction.
CROSSBONE: It helped ease my doubts, a little bit.
FATALE: ...really?
FATALE: I feel like most people would have thought I was being a huge bitch.
 

Cross can't help but giggle, more out of being surprised than anything.

CROSSBONE: No, no, it's-
CROSSBONE: I think it's refreshing when people speak their mind.
FATALE: Must be why you ended up with Silk Ribbon, then.
 

Cross' pixel character blushes.

CROSSBONE: Heh, yeah...
CROSSBONE: But I like it in friendships too.
FATALE: Friendships...
FATALE: We'll see how I do, with that.
CROSSBONE: I guess your situation isn't exactly...conducive, towards meeting people.
FATALE: Oh, I knew plenty of people.
FATALE: The most glamorous plushes you've ever seen. Some of the best people in the world.
FATALE: ....
 

She looks at the ground, not slowing down her pace.

FATALE: ...no one left over now, though.
CROSSBONE: ....
 

The virtual pet is quiet, not sure how much to press.

Thankfully, Fatale presses on.

FATALE: ...they'll be fine without us. And I highly doubt any of them knew me as me.
FATALE: Just Devo as a unit.
FATALE: Perhaps now that I'm out and about once again, it'll be time for me to make new bonds. Meet more people.
FATALE: Forge a life for myself, or something.
CROSSBONE: Yeah!
CROSSBONE: You'll have plenty of opportunities to do it at Laurie's!
FATALE: ...making things work with Roulette again would be nice, as well.
FATALE: I can only hope I didn't burn that bridge.
CROSSBONE: I don't think it's as bad as you're worried about...
CROSSBONE: And...we'll work on getting Devo up to speed.
CROSSBONE: I'm sure we can get him to remember you.
FATALE: ...you're very sweet, Willow.
 

Her tone is soft.

FATALE: I'm glad that I said what I did, earlier.
FATALE: Don't make that faith misplaced.
 

The character on Cross' face smiles.

CROSSBONE: I won't.
 

The five of you seem to press on for what feels like hours, chatting here and there-

Tim sees it first, taking a step back and making Cross bump into him.

CROSSBONE: Oof-
CROSSBONE: W-what is-
 

She lets out a sharp beep, pointing above the treeline.

You turn your head.


[image description: a figure towering over the treeline, made of abstract shapes and segmented parts. it has 5 sparkle-shaped eyes and is vaguely bipedal, as well as being hoisted up by puppet strings leading to nowhere.]


There's an impossibly large figure in the distance- from the look of the fog, way off. Nowhere near you.

But even so, your chest tightens. It's bipedal, probably, and lumbering at what looks like a snail's pace from so far away. Its body teeters and totters, and you see these massive strings hooked into its joints- extending upwards into nothing. You can't make out its features too well through the fine snow and the distance, but you can see large eye holes carved into its beak-like face, looking like nothing you've ever seen before.

No one says a word, the faraway beast lumbering on its own path, separate from yours.


Roulette pulls out its scythe, stepping briefly in front of the rest of you, remaining quiet.
Its lens is wider than you've ever seen it.

Everyone else is frozen in place.



After what seems like an eternity, it's passed by your frame of view. No interaction with you, no recognition- it had to have been miles away.


When the beast is finally gone, Roulette gradually puts its scythe away.
It says nothing as it returns to the back of the group.

The snow has picked up. A little more prominent now. It's calming, seeing the glinting white flakes falling in the air as you walk.

It's a while before anyone moves or speaks.

Tim's the first to.

TIMOTHY: ....
TIMOTHY: ...crazy shit, out here.
CROSSBONE: No kidding...
CROSSBONE: ...I hope it had a nice trip, going where it's going.
FATALE: You like that thing?
CROSSBONE: It wasn't hurting anybody...
CROSSBONE: Just going on its way.
FATALE: ...guess so.
TIMOTHY: Well!
TIMOTHY: Now that we're just walking again, maybe we could- we could play a game, or something!
CROSSBONE: Oh!
POLKA DOT: What kind of game-
CROSSBONE: I'd be happy for anything to talk about!
TIMOTHY: Maybe...a question game.
TIMOTHY: We take turns asking people questions.
TIMOTHY: Like, I ask Willow a question, and then she answers, and picks someone else to ask.
POLKA DOT: Huh...easy enough.
POLKA DOT: A kind of...getting to know you game.
TIMOTHY: Mhm!
FATALE: ...sure, why not.

Tim glances back at Roulette-

It's looking off into the trees, where the giant creature had been before.

-his ears drooping when he doesn't notice a response.

TIMOTHY: W...well...okay.
TIMOTHY: Willow! You first.
CROSSBONE: O-okay!
TIMOTHY: ...what kind of monster are you hoping to become?
 

She lets out an excited string of beeps.

CROSSBONE: Oh, I hope it's like my dreams.
CROSSBONE: In my dreams, I have a skull head, and flames....
CROSSBONE: And huge claws!
CROSSBONE: It's a very wolf-y look, and I love it a lot...
CROSSBONE: I'd give anything to look like that, even a little bit.
FATALE: Hmph. I understand, somewhat.
CROSSBONE: ...Oh?
FATALE: In our dreams, I have a much more curvy figure, and a lovely devil's tail.
FATALE: There's nothing wrong with how we look in reality, per se, but I'd much rather look like that.
POLKA DOT: ...what if you, like....
POLKA DOT: Got a detachable tail, or something?
POLKA DOT: That's a thing, right?
 

Fatale thinks to herself for a moment.

FATALE: Potentially. I wouldn't mind....
FATALE: Though it'd be expensive.
FATALE: I'd like to be able to earn my keep, first.
 

You nod.

Cross pauses before turning to you, a sly expression on her pixel character's face.

CROSSBONE: I pick you, Ribbon.
POLKA DOT: Oh boy, I'm in for it now.
POLKA DOT: Do your worst.
CROSSBONE: What's the spookiest thing you can think of that you still think is really cool?

[knux400]

"Is it cheating if I just use your answer? I mean, I can't think of anything spookier than my girlfriend turning into a big... what did you say? Skeleton monster with a flaming head and wolf claws? That. But it's still really cool, and I'm super excited for it."

"...Although... It might be even spookier if you kept a few pieces of your shell here and there as, like, spikey armor bits. Maybe you could have a pair of wristguards, a pauldron on your right shoulder with spikes sticking out... That'd be fun, right?"

[Lilium Mortem]

Hmm Dreams. they can be really scary sometimes but also super awesome. I was a pirate once. that was neat.

Fatale, what do you do for hobbies, or what you want to do?

[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 Content

Spoiler 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.