𝐌𝐈𝐑𝐑𝐎𝐑 𝐌𝐀𝐍 ┊ ✧. 𝑮𝑹𝑨𝑽𝑰𝑻𝒀 𝑭𝑨𝑳𝑳𝑺

三

<Chapter three>

【𝐀𝐧 𝐔𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐄𝐧𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫】

━°⌜ 赤い糸 ⌟°━

" You are very different "



" Something I've never seen before "



" You.. are very beautiful... "



" Wouldn't you agree...? "

" What does that mean.. ? "

━°⌜ 赤い糸 ⌟°━

The forest had become your refuge, a place of solitude where you could gather your thoughts and try to make sense of the fragmented memories that swirled in your mind like glitching data. Gravity Falls was different from any place you'd known, its dense canopy of towering trees offering a strange mix of comfort and unease. The foliage was lush and vibrant, unlike anything on Copper-9, where the atmosphere was filled with smog and the landscape was a stark industrial wasteland.

As you wander through the woods, your sensors pick up the subtle sounds of the forest: the rustle of leaves in the wind, the distant call of birds, and the occasional scurrying of small creatures across the forest floor. You trace the lines of tree bark with your metallic fingers, marveling at the texture, the life teeming beneath the surface. It's a stark contrast to the cold, sterile environment you were used to—a world devoid of nature.

But there's something else here too, something that makes your processors hum with curiosity. The air in Gravity Falls seems charged with a kind of energy you can't quite identify. It's not just the electromagnetic fields or the organic life—it's something deeper, something almost... supernatural. You've picked up on it since your arrival, but the forest seems to amplify it, like a hidden current that flows beneath everything.

As you move deeper into the forest, the shadows lengthen, and the light filtering through the canopy becomes dimmer. It's peaceful in a way, but that peace also comes with an edge of unpredictability. You can't shake the feeling that you're being watched, that something—or someone—is observing your every move. But every time you glance around, there's nothing there, just the trees and the underbrush.

You continue forward, your steps light and measured, barely making a sound. Even in this unfamiliar environment, you find yourself moving with the same cautious grace that served you well on Copper-9. After all, you'd had to learn how to be quiet, how to move without drawing attention to yourself. It was a survival skill, honed through years of navigating a world where danger lurked around every corner.

But here, it seems your caution was warranted.

Without warning, something crashes into you from the side with the force of a speeding train. You're thrown off balance, your sensors scrambling to make sense of the sudden impact. The world tilts as you're sent flying to the ground, your systems glitching momentarily as you collide with the earth. Before you can even process what's happening, a heavy weight presses down on you, pinning you to the forest floor.

Your optics flicker as your systems attempt to recalibrate, your auditory sensors catching the sound of labored breathing above you. The pressure on your back is immense, forcing you to stay down, and you feel something cold and metallic pressed against the back of your neck—a weapon, no doubt, and a very real one at that.