[TOY] Plaything

[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?