trapped [ intro/open ]

pinchings:

[Madotsuki found she could breathe a little easier with the extra room created between them. Thankfully the lady had recognized her need for personal space. Or maybe she just got lucky, who knows. Her eyes stayed glued to the ground as the white-haired woman relayed her status report. Not even when she affirmed that she was ok did Madotsuki make any notion to her existence.

Okay. She was okay. That’s all she needed to hear. But then she kept on talking.]

[Parents.. parents. What were those again? It had been so long since she had even thought of them. Days of spending time with the family were nonexistent in her memory. In fact she couldn’t quite remember anything since the sweet serenity of sleep had taken control of her life.

A moment of silence passed as the word rolled around in her mind and she picked her head up to stare at the woman’s face.]

…You need a shower. 

[Without another word Madotsuki picked herself up and walked around and beyond the woman. The villages were this way, weren’t they?]

IA couldn’t help but be a bit concerned by the girl’s lack of eye contact, staring at her with an expression of worry to try and get her attention somehow. When it didn’t work, and the girl seemed to be pondering her question, her cerulean gaze fell to the ground, disappointed and embarrassed at herself that she was unworthy even of a little girl’s attention.

She perked up briefly when Madotsuki spoke, hopeful, but it fell again as the girl continued to dismiss her question and walked right past her. Still, knowing she couldn’t leave a little miss alone with no adult figure, IA got up and jogged for a second to catch up to her. 

“Ah! Alright then…”

The young singer wasn’t so enthusiastic in her steps, though, once she begun to take a look around. Destruction littered every inch of the dirt beneath their feet, and the sky was gray, conveying further unrest in the area that surrounded her. With every piece of rubble, she began to feel uneasy, walking increasingly slower behind Madotsuki and glancing around every which was as if she felt unsafe. 

“Are you sure we have to leave? M…Maybe we should go back where you found me, it’d be safer in there…”

(Source: iaontheplanetes)

A Search for Legs

imnotamoron:

Wheatley took notice of her sheepish state. It was odd to him, how humans clearly displayed their embarrassment. Slightly flushed cheeks, a nervous smile; it was all seen on IA’s face. If he were human, he would make sure to keep these habits in check; he would not want another person to see him as weak.

He was a bit surprised to hear her mention that she was a singer. He had never met a singer before, only test subjects. The closest thing he had ever heard to singing was the shrill voice of the turrets. His optic flickered around in its socket before refocusing on IA.

“I’ve never heard anyone sing before, really. Perhaps you could give me a, uh, a demonstration. I’m sure you sing just fine—perfect, actually. You are a singer, after all.”

IA watched as the robot’s eye gazed around thoughtfully, wondering what he was thinking about. Being only a little metal sphere, it was hard to tell what he was feeling without proper means to express emotions—outwardly, anyways.

When he asked her to sing for him, she immediately smiled and hopped a bit in her excitement. She would often get stopped by her fans when she was in public, and got requested to sing a little bit for them. She would happily oblige; anything to make her fans happy. Plus, her arm was beginning to get tired from carrying all of those bottles of water. 

“Oh—sure! I’d be happy to.”

Glancing around, she soon realized that she was in luck. There was a little abandoned house to her left, which was for the most part intact. There were shut-able doors, at least, which was all IA cared about—protection while she sang, completely vulnerable while she did so. She shuffled through the door and closed it behind her with a few fingers from the hand holding Wheatley, walking to the wall where the floor was most cleared of rubbish. The young singer kneeled down, setting Wheatley and the water down. She then sat up straight against the wall directly across from the small robot, not slouching at all—any good singer knew not to obstruct one’s diaphragm while singing. She took a deep breath. 

“Okay, u-um…”

[ We watched the fading vapor trails

They were so dazzling, I ran away

I was always weak

I let go, frustrated by the fact

That I couldn’t change myself since that day

I could not stay unchanged forever… ♫ ]

IA, who had closed her eyes once she had begun singing, opened them slightly to survey Wheatley’s reaction, slightly anxious, like she always was when anticipating outside opinions on her voice. 

“Should I keep going?”

A Search for Legs

imnotamoron:

Lifted from the ground once more, Wheatley felt relief as they began to move. He was not entirely sure where IA was taking him, but at this point it did not matter. IA seemed to be someone he could trust; he could not imagine the soft-spoken girl suddenly throwing him into danger. His only worry now was that they arrived safely to their destination, where ever that was.

Wheatley perked up a bit at her question. He enjoyed conversation, which he rarely received in the Aperture Laboratories, and definitely not in space.

“Well, there’s this place called Aperture Laboratories, I’m sure you’ve heard of it,” he wiggled his handles a bit, as if making an effort to nod. “I worked there until I was, uh, kicked out. Into space, actually. It’s kind of a, um, long story.” 

He was not in the mood to extrapolate about his previous experiences. It would most likely result in some form of self-reflection or regret, which he wasn’t keen on feeling at the moment. He had enough time to think about his mistakes while he was in space. Instead, Wheatley looked up at IA curiously, switching the focus to her.

“Might I ask what, um, band you sing for? Since you are a singer and all. I’m pretty sure that most singers are in bands.”

IA noted how he perked up whenever she initiated conversation instead of him, which confirmed her earlier theory that Wheatley enjoyed being talked to. Smiling down at him, she immediately knew she would rarely have a problem with that at all. As the small robot continued to talk, though, she frowned, becoming concerned.

“Ah, I’ve actually never heard of that place before, but…” The young singer cut off with a small noise of surprise as Wheatley interrupted her, changing the subject. She was going to ask why he had been kicked out, into space, for that matter, and was a bit worried about him now, wondering what kind of toll it took on him to be floating aimlessly in space, like he had just said, for who knows how long. Shaking her head to get back on track, IA answered Wheatley’s question with much more ease.

“Oh, well, I perform as a solo singer, actually. I tend to be very popular with the younger audiences, ehe.” The young woman laughed a bit nervously; talking about her celebrity status always made her a bit embarrassed. 

A Search for Legs

imnotamoron:

Wheatley’s optic shrank to a pinpoint as IA’s grip loosened, crying out as he fell. His scream was cut off swiftly as IA regained her grip on him.

“Oh-oh goodness! I thought that I was going to die,” Wheatley wheezed, slowly regaining his composure.

He was set gently onto the ground, which assisted him in relaxing a bit more. IA’s sweet nature had a soothing quality to it; it was something that Chell—and definitely not GLaDOS—possessed. He watched her regather her water bottles under her arm, and felt a bit ashamed that he could not assist her. He merely sat uselessly, only able to chat with her, and he was not entirely sure that she enjoyed that. If only had some arms or legs, something that he could use to help her out.

However, once she asked him for his name, he felt a bit more relieved. Perhaps she did not mind idle chatter; she might even enjoy it. His blue optic glowed in an almost blissful manner.

“The name’s Wheatley, mate,” he said before inquiring, “Might I ask what yours is?”

IA took notice of his enthusiastic response. It was beginning to occur to her that Wheatley was quite talkative, and liked when people returned the idle chatter, which she was fine with—she didn’t like awkward silences, much preferring the quiet be filled somehow. She flashed a tiny, sweet smile at the robot, stuffing the last water bottle under her arm.

“Wheatley… that’s a nice name.” Giggling a little bit, the young singer turned her body towards him and patted his head a few times. “You can call me IA. That’s my stage name, anyways. I-I’m a singer, ehehe…”

After the short exchange, IA moved her arm slightly to make sure the bottles were snug and would not dislodged easily. When that was made secure, she curled her tiny, frail-looking hand around Wheatley’s topmost handle, lifting him up from the ground without much trouble—he was lighter than he looked. Remembering from earlier that the robot preferred conversation, IA began making small talk with him, skipping cheerfully in her steps.

“So, where did you come from, Wheatley?”

A Search for Legs

imnotamoron:

IA’s sudden display of affection surprised Wheatley, causing his ‘pupil’ to shrink to a pinpoint. He had seen many companion cubes snuggled viciously by socially deprived test subjects, who longed for the touch of another person. However, this was different; IA appeared to be in perfect mental health. Wheatley’s optical dilated, relaxing as he realized that he was not in the arms of a deranged human; he was only the arms of a very affectionate one.

One particular thing that Wheatley noticed about IA was her grip. Unlike others who had held him before, the girl grasped him lightly, squeezing him only if in an embrace. Most who had previously possessed him knew that he was constructed of sturdy materials, and clenched him tightly in their hands. Though Wheatley usually felt anxious when not held firmly enough, there was some sense of security in IA’s delicate clutch.

“I have been called many things, but ‘cute’ is a new one. I do prefer ‘extremely intellectual being’, but cute will do,” he narrowed his shutters, his optic gazing sideways at IA. “But, um, I remember you saying that you were going to hold me by my handles. So, unless you are holding me with your cheek, you might want to hold me differently. Unless, you know, you don’t want water anymore. Which is fine. Up to you, mate.”

IA, too preoccupied with squeezing him affectionately to see his initial panic, didn’t even let up as Wheatley started talking, but nearly dropped him in realization as he brought the water to her attention once again, catching him from her little slip up, this time by his handle.

“Oh! Right, the water!”

Kneeling down, the young singer seated Wheatley carefully on the ground, positioned so that he wouldn’t roll, and began gathering the scattered bottles, picking them up one by one and depositing them under her right arm. As she worked at retrieving them, though, she felt like she should say something to this new robot—her new friend—for his constant rambling was contagious; now she, too, felt the need to fill the silence.

“Do you have a name, Mr. Robot?”

A Search for Legs

imnotamoron:

A rush of euphoria filled the spherical robot. He felt so light, so free now that he had been lifted off the ground. Despite IA’s delicate appearance, she managed to keep a tight, reassuring grip on him. He nuzzled himself cozily into the nook of her arm, glancing up at her with his wide blue iris. As she walked towards the water bottles, the robot began to ramble, a habit that he displayed quite often.

“Going back where? You mean that you, um, live here? Don’t get me wrong, it’s a uh, quaint place, very nice. Just not my sort of neighborhood. Not too many friendly neighbors, if you ask me.”

After she reached the fallen water bottles, Wheatley noticed her gaze flickering from the mess to him. He recognized this look; it was the same kind of glance that Chell made as she solved the tests at the Aperture Laboratories. She would construct some sort of plan with a few simple glances. A few water bottles did not create a difficult puzzle for IA, but Wheatley could not help but remember his old friend’s mannerisms.

The girl placed her hand lightly onto one of his handles, explaining her predicament to him. Her preposition to his handles as, well, handles, surprised him.

“So that’s what those are for? I always wondered why I had them. Seemed pretty useless to me, having those and not legs.” Wheatley swiftly answered her question, “And of course you can. They’ve only been used like this once before. In space, actually, so I can assure you that they are sturdy.”

“Ah! I don’t live here, goodness no! I’m not quite sure how I ended up here, but I know that I don’t like it one bit…”

The whole time Wheatley had been talking—rambling was a better word, frankly—she had noticed how his slight English accent became apparent, and IA looked down, a bit surprised as the small robot shifted in her arms, nuzzling up against her. It was…

A wide, endeared smile spread across the young singer’s face, pausing after the robot’s approval at using his handles. Propping up the robot with her arms, she pressed the side of her face against Wheatley’s metal body, squishing it against him while squeezing him tightly in the process like a big, robotic stuffed animal.

“Uuu~ You’re so cute~” She squeezed him as hard as she could to drive the point home. IA had completely forgotten about the bottles for now, and at this rate it looked like she would need to be reminded of them for her to let up on smothering Wheatley like he was some sort of cute house pet.

recognition [☞ mama-meiko]

mama-meiko:

It’s been another long day, considering that Meiko had done absolutely nothing productive. While many citizens of this odd city were out scavenging and surviving to put food on the table, the performer decided to walk around a few blocks, making a mental map as to the layout of the place. If things ever went to hell, which they probably would in the near future, she’d have to have an escape route planned, or at least an area of high ground.

Course, she’d been walking for only a few minutes when she felt a light tap on her shoulder. That usually meant that there was someone new around, and that also meant having to take time out to show them the ropes and help them not get killed out there. The brunette turned around reluctantly, ready to read off the same script again.

“Sheesh. Market’s that way, bathroom’s are over there, n’ I have no idea where th’ hell…”

“…I seen ya’ before, kid? Ya’ look pretty damn familiar ta’ me.”

IA grew disheartened as Meiko spoke coldly back to her, relaying some useful information to her as if she was the tenth person to approach her today. Gaining the look of a sad puppy dog, she had already formed an apology in her head when the red-clad woman spoke again, this time with interest and meaning. The young singer brightened up instantly, still looking a bit shy and anxious. What if Meiko didn’t remember her…?

“Ah, I-I believe you have…! We were in the singing industry together, I recall seeing you in passing sometimes in the studios… remember?”

(Source: iaontheplanetes)

A Search for Legs

imnotamoron:

It had been a long time since Wheatley had made contact with another living thing; besides the monsters that roamed here, of course. The last person who had touched him was…

Don’t think of her, don’t think of her, don’t think of her.

However, it was impossible to avoid the thought of Chell, his only friend; the one that he had inevitably betrayed. Obviously, IA had very little in common with Chell. IA was a delicate sort of a woman, her skin appearing softer with some sort of natural luminescence; Chell was a more rugged woman, built on muscle and strength. The one thing that the two shared in common was their sympathy for Wheatley. Chell could have just as easily left Wheatley behind, as IA could have scampered away with her collection of water bottles, never to be seen again.

Wheatley managed to blink away the memory, though it still lurked in the back of his mind. He preferred not to make the same mistake that he had made with Chell. If IA was to become a friend of his, he did not want the hunger for power to push her out of his priorities. His blue eye shifted around in its socket as he remembered just what he had called IA over here to do.

“Ah, yes, help. Almost forgot about that,” he chuckled nervously as his shutters closed slightly, barely covering his blue iris. “Well, I was hoping that you could, quite possibly, carry me to wherever you were going. Because you seem like a smart person, who would know a smart place to hide. I don’t know about you, but I am tired of being thrown about all day.” 

IA noticed Wheatley’s pause and tilted her head slightly, wondering if he was thinking about something, or if there was some sort of bug in his system. He did eventually respond, though, and the young singer perked up a bit, excited at the idea of helping this adorable little robot.

“Ah, that would be no problem! I was just on my way back, actually.”

As she spoke, she began to make her way back to the water bottles she had dropped out of fright earlier, cradling Wheatley tightly in her arms, almost like a large teddy bear. When she reached the scattered pile of bottles, however, IA realized she had a bit of a dilemma; she couldn’t carry the bottles with Wheatley already occupying her entire armspace.

“Hmm…”

As she looked down at the small robot, she noticed two handle-like pieces protruding from him, noting that they would be easy to grip onto. Hatching an idea, IA tilted her head down to look at Wheatley, tenatively putting a hand on one of the parts.

“Um… would it be okay if I held you from these for now? S-So I can carry the water without having to leave you here…?”

trapped [ intro/open ]

pinchings:

[ Dust sprinkled the air and tickled Madotsuki’s face. She had to take a step back and cough while it settled around her. When her eyes opened back up a shadow filled her vision and Madotsuki had to blink a few times before she could get a clear picture. ]

[ A woman, dressed in an unusual outfit not unlike something Britney Spears would have adorned in her teen years, was kneeling down with her face a few inches from her own. Her long light hair messily sprawled around her dusty, trembling form. There was no mistaking that this was who was trapped inside that enclosure. Almost instinctively Madotsuki’s hand rose to pinch at her own cheek, feeling a mixture of relief and anxiety to meet the person inside.

But it quickly dropped as she recollected her previous thoughts. You can’t wake up, remember that. The petite brunette nodded swiftly as she took a step back to create a little distance in between them. The lady seemed harmless enough, but one could never judge a book by its cover, no matter how benevolent they appeared. ]

Yes.

[ Her fingers began to ache for the extra comfort of the kitchen blade, but she resisted the urge. This woman seemed shocked enough without being in the presence of a pointy weapon. Eyes cast down, Madotsuki spoke in a voice that barely preceded a whisper. ] …Are you hurt? [ As she said this the hand rose again to begin wiping away some of the blood from her face. ]

IA could immediately tell that this girl was very out of her comfort zone, judging by her strange behavior and the way she seemed anxious when she got close. The young singer knew all too well what that feeling was; only when she had achieved fame was completely able to shake the nervousness that came to talking with other people, and even now, in her early twenties, it still arose every now and again. Understanding, IA leaned slightly away from the girl to give her some space as she replied.

“Ah, I’m fine, just a bit dusty, ehehe… thank you for your concern, little one.”

It was beginning to dawn on the young singer just how… odd this situation was. In her relief of being rescued, she hadn’t yet stopped to think how this small, frail-looking girl had managed to move a boulder almost three times her size, and was silent for a moment, pondering this.

IA also realized, though, that this girl, freakish superpowers or not, was much too young to be wandering around be herself, and her expression became one of concern.

“Have you lost your parents? Do you want me to help you find them…?”

(Source: iaontheplanetes)

This is not the Abyss, right? {Fiddler’s Green Open/Intro}

noble—nightray:

The first thing Elliot did was blinking a few times as he looked at the female who had approached him, and who now was seemingly terrified. He honestly wouldn’t have thought that the footsteps had been from a human. He more likely had expected another one of those zombies. Not that he was complaining about that, but…

“Ah-” Maybe pointing the sword at her hadn’t been such a good idea. On the other side though, it wasn’t completely his fault. How was he to know that a person would come out of nowhere? And while he knew that he had been the one to startle her, Elliot had to hold back his temper at what she said. Did he really looked like someone who would just kill a person like that? He probably did in this moment though.

Trying his best to stay calm, he lowered the sword and spoke. “I.. I am sorry.”

“It wasn’t my intention to-” he gave a sigh, as if not knowing how to properly continue his sentence. No, apologizing wasn’t his strength at all, and without Leo punching him telling him to do it, he was most likely to not say sorry at all. But according the situation, and the fact that he was aware that it had been his fault (even though he still told himself that it wasn’t his fault alone), he assumed it would be the best to just get it over with. Not that he wasn’t sorry; He was, but he was too proud to just admit his mistake. “I thought you where something else.” the noble said, eyes looking to the side as if trying to glance over his shoulder at the mess that laid there. Then again, according to her previous reaction, maybe he shouldn’t let her see that… thing. That one scream of hers had already gone on his nerves a little, and he didn’t felt like having her do it again.

Placing his weapon on the ground, like he was trying to reassure her that he really didn’t mean any harm, Elliot took a few steps forward, altough he still keept some distance to the girl, just in case so that she wouldn’t think he was going to attack her or something. Extending his hand, he spoke again. “Here, let me help you up.”

Because despite his attitude, Elliot did have manners. Even if he barely used them, and the way he said it may hadn’t been the proper one.