Sometimes shit happens. Hey, it's not always your day, it's alright. One moment you're riding high, soaring above these mud-riddled plains with the king of mercs by your side, another, you're running far away from the crater he blew himself up in. Y...
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w doodle in ms paint, hereyougo
enjoy !!!!
Tap, tap, tap.
The sound of soles echoed through the bustling hallways of Rhodes Island. So many shoes, so many different shapes and sizes, but in the end, all and the same - just background noise. All leathered up, Andy made his way through the metal serpent's innards, narrowly avoiding the many wires and steel bones poking from each side, like ribs. Here and there, an operator of a mighty or meek stature would throw the boy a smile and flicker a wave, questioningly sliding their gaze over his horns and tail, then returning to their doings, with a never-answered query on their mind, one that would disappear within the next hour or so and be forgotten forever. Andy felt slightly out of place, even despite his initial glorifications of the landship - the hallways had hands that suffocated him with their stuffiness, and eyes that monitored his every move. Used to the freedom of the Kazdelian wildlands, the sudden yanking of freedom was quite a doozy. And W was nowhere to be found.
"... Excuse me." He prodded the ceramic back of some unkempt operator in his way. With a flick of their head, two pools of familiar emptiness shot the boy an asking glance. "... Uh... Ace, right?"
"Right enough." He gave a nod and removed himself from his way. "You hurrying off to somewhere? Running for the hills already?"
"No, I'm just..." Andy wasn't in the mood for pleasantries and jokey-jokes, which he signaled with a weary sigh that quickly delved into a yawn. It was a really long night, after all. "... Just looking around for W."
"W was the other one, yeah? The feisty one?" His inseparable, boonie-wearing companion cut in. "The one that slammed you in the gut?"
"Oh yeah, she beat the hell out of you." Ace chuckled, just now remembering the happening, but still fondly. "... You got yourself a girl like that, you might as well search for her 'til the end of the world, right?"
"Ha-ha, comedians..." Andy murmured past their snickering sunglasses and pushed himself onward. The process of grumbling the way through was accompanied by their overjoyed remarks about sending the two mercs flowers, either to the wedding reception or Andy's funeral. Only after he had taken a sharp corner and lost their eye-less gazes, had their voices finally subsided, leaving him with a blissful amount of peace and a completely empty hallway. He took a moment to breathe and continued on, only to find himself standing face to face with a particularly flowery door. There was something distinctively different about this one. Like a fly to a rotten apple, it drew him in. Like a product of Mother Nature's frail hands led towards its eventual goal in life, the door called out and narrowed the pathways his brains scoured into one straight line, into just a single highway, one road onward. His fingers each lingered on the handle, yet none dared grip the knob and push. Realization struck.
It was midday. He hasn't seen W since he woke up, and that somehow made him uneasy. Most of the horrific experiences his body's been put through happened with her by his side, after all. She felt like an omen of deliberate sorrow, a sign that foreshadowed nothing but misery. If this door lured him in, then W should've technically worked as a natural repellant, like a magnet of the same pole - Yet his mind couldn't quite chew the fact through. It wouldn't understand the harmful effects of W, no matter how many broken bones, shattered ribs and liters of blood lost there were. Each time his brain entered a warpath against the mere idea of W, his heart halted the process and unconsciously sought her proximity. Just like now - he wasn't required to seek the girl in any way. Quite the opposite, he could've very well spent half the day lying down in a dangerously comfy bed and staring at the ceiling. But what did he do? He took his legs - or, rather - his legs took him on a search for the twitchy war criminal, and wouldn't let themselves be put to rest until he made sure she was there, and she was alive, and she was warm, and she was with him.
