Titan Troubles

: 3 :

"I just- I feel so bad... He's probably dying in there..." Nana Pud sniffled as she spoke to Sackboy. Sackboy nodded, indicating for her to continue.

"I... Maybe we should open it-"

Sackboy cut her off, shaking his head and putting a hand over her mouth. They both knew it was a horrible idea, who knows what Newton would try to do (or more realistically, what the Titans would try to do with his body).

"Fine, fine. I won't." She sighed, looking at Sackboy. "I'm glad I have you, I 'ont know what I'd do."

Sackboy smiled a little at that. He couldn't speak, but he could listen to people better than anybody back in Craftworld, that was for sure.

People often trusted them with their troubles, and he didn't mind. He didn't have much to do otherwise, ever since saving Craftworld from the Negativitron and the Collector. And so, he listened.

After all, nobody ever saw Sackboy complaining about his own problems (not that he necessarily could, but that was besides the point). In fact, the only problems he ever had were coming from the need to save Craftworld from whatever enemy stood in its way. Always needing to help others and not getting tired or sick of it.

No one really worried about him either. But this was about Nana Pud's problems right now, not his. He could wait, as he usually did.

He still couldn't help but feel a little miserable due to all the things going on at once. Especially since Nana Pud's own misery over her dead(ish) son was kinda getting to him.

Nana Pud seemed to notice this. "Oh, you're just a youngster, you don't need to be subjected to all this..." She put a hand to her head.

Sackboy shook his head. He didn't mind, at least not as much as he should.

"No. You're working hard as it is, I don't need to subject you to my problems." She gave a sad laugh.

Sackboy took on an almost pleading look, as if he was telling her that she could tell him anything, vent to him about her problems and her sadness about losing her son to the Titans.

"You don't even belong in Bunkum... At some point we need to get you back to where you belong in Craftworld. Bunkum is no place for you. I don't know what Newty was thinking, taking you away from your home like that." Nana Pud shook her head.

Sackboy wanted to say something, that he wanted to stay and help out as best he could, but he was limited to his expressions and body language in that regard. So he just nodded.

"Does it bother you that you can't talk? Or do you just not want to?" Nana Pud asked, a little curious as to what the answer would be.

Sackboy held up one finger, indicating that it was the first. If he could talk, he knew that he would. A lot.

"Does it bother you, then? Not being able to properly communicate, that is." She asked again. Sackboy thought, before shrugging. He didn't quite have an opinion on the matter. It was just how it was, after all. It wasn't like he could do anything about it, and it was just stuck this way.

"It doesn't? My, that's surprising. I would have thought that such a chipper young sackling like you would be even just a tad irritated by that." She said, before adding, "I know I would be!"

Sackboy nodded. He understood what she meant, but he had always been like this. He could make small noises, like grunts of pain or noises of happiness, but he was unable to speak and that's how it had always been.

Thankfully, nobody ever thought of him less because of it. In fact, some back in Craftworld thought it was kinda badass in a way.

They managed to understand what he needed and wanted just by how he expressed himself. He wasn't one that wanted much, after all.

Though, Sackboy was starting to feel... A little sad. It must just be Nana Pud's feelings getting to him! Sackboy was never sad, he was heroic and brave but never sad. It was simply impossible for him to feel like this.

He needed to get himself together, really. After all, he couldn't save any residents of Craftworld, or even Bunkum really- if he was like this. He wouldn't be able to get anything done at all!

He got up, waving to Nana Pud.

"Oh!- Bye, Sack-Thing. I'll see you soon, youngster." She waved back, watching him leave. She was worried about him, he looked down after Newton got locked away. Was it her fault?

Word count: 704