NieR:Remnant

XI - Canvas of White

Something...

"Huh?"

9S opened his eyes, sand trickling onto his face, invisible.

Invisible? Or blending? Bleeding?

Wait.

9S, lying on his back, planted both hands down then squeezed. No sand.

This wasn't the desert.

He pushed himself up?

Just white.

Which way was up? Down? What the hell was he sitting on?

"A2?" His voice radiated out in an echo, the sound wave shimmering against the glass?

What?

"Pod-153?" The echo travelled away and back in tandem with three, three, three...

"006?"

He moved to stand. If he had a heart, it would be racing.

"If, Father?"

"2B?!" 9S yelled a bit louder. "I made it! I'm here! Where are you?!"

He went running, his boots thud-tap-tapping as if running on concrete, then glass, then plastic, then wood, just about any substance that wasn't sand. It was probably for the best. Sand was so irritating, always getting in his shoes.

"Whoa!" 9S was caught off guard by a sudden cloth substance against his entire front. He got caught in it, twisted in it, and toppled over with one final loud thud. On his back once again, 9S allowed his eyes to trace the unending flowing substance upward, of a different pitch of white just enough to be visible. It was, indeed, a curtain.

He grabbed it and lifted himself up once again, then followed against it, allowing it to brush against his left side until a break presented itself. He fell into it almost unwillingly, tripping a good four times on the sudden step down and change in altitude. Forward, not seven meters away, a blip interrupted the never-ending sheet of white.

"Huh?" His speech uttered all throughout with varying inflections. 9S followed the waving sound right to the figure. It was seated in a nice, big, comfy chair.

"Hi." 9S saw nothing of the figure save for its arms resting on each side. "Excuse me, have you seen an android around here? Short, white hair, gloves with weird feathers on them? Or another, longer hair and uh, no clothes?" He blinked. It felt weird to describe them like this. "Or, could you just point me in the direction of the desert? There's someone I really need to find."

There was a chuckle as the figure tapped her left fingers on the armrest from pinky to pointer, and again, and again. No skin was showing, just dark gloves and sleeves.

"You really haven't changed at all, have you? Even after all this?"

9S blinked again, a sudden chill in his gut.

"Or have you?"

He tried to muster up a reply. "I... Um..."

"Lost for words? Well that's certainly a first!" Two heeled shoes tapped on the ground, the sofa groaning as her figure left it. She stepped once, twice, and again until she was fully in sight, but the weird black suit she'd adopted in her final days and short blonde hair didn't give her away. It was her voice.

9S would recognize that voice anywhere.

"Hello, 9S."

He felt himself shivering.