Behind the bars & under the stone

Prologue

The time was a little past twelve am, the sky a sicking yet mystical shade of a dark forest green, highlighted with a warm mustard yellow that lined the horizon. The temperature being mildly chilly as the summer season was soon to be ending. This story starts in a graveyard. The "Banewood tombs" to be exact; the land home to forgotten memories, long lost ideas, and broken dreams. The dark teal grass riddled with holes, and one grave cradles our robotic protagonist.

The nights late thick silence was soon cut by the sound of now grinding gears spinning to life, accompanied by an unpleasant squeal comparable to that of a rusty hinge being forced open. The sounds resonating louder due to the brass covering on the chest of our robot. Soon the squeals died down to a low rumble and barely audible ticks; with that metal face plates begin to move, over lapping and due to the lack of use had quite literally peeled open beneath synthetic skin. An aged yellowing glass eye and sensors, now being exposed to a near completely new site. Within a few synthetic blinks and a quick processed thought, our robot had recognized where they were... outside. The robot quickly jumped to their feet, inner spring locks groaning protest and most certainly not participating at first, sending the robot tumbling to their knees on the floor. But yet our robot preceded to have their head held high and eye to the sky; now they slowly pushed themselves up to a semi straight stance, leaning on the side of their supposed grave, for a much needed support. The robot simply stood there in awe. The first thing they noted were the colors, most giving the robot a sense of nostalgia (well as close for artificial life) for children's books and fables, they had a faint memory of hearing.

The forest colored sky for its shade, but its "mythsticality" would be good for a Brothers Grimm esque book and the like. Perhaps red riding hood? The mustard yellow while nowhere close payed some bearing of the straw house in the three little pigs. The little blue tufts of grass that just barely peered into the grave, gave light to cinderella's beautiful shimmery ball gown. The early morning dew on the grass only added to the effect. Despite this new worlds "apparent beauty" they noted it's not very "traditional" in a sense. They referred to the children's stories with thoughts along the same vein of 'isn't the sky supposed to be blue, or sometimes purple, or black?,' or 'isn't grass green not blue?' The thoughts swirling faster than the robots inner gears. Well it appears despite the thoughts curiosity was still a iron maiden, dragging along the robot out of their past resting place and sitting beside it along the edge. Legs dangling already prepared and inticapting action; the same notion for the robot, head swiveling every which way. Their screen like a mirror catching and reflecting the site of many more holes. This building up many more assumptions, yet they were quickly abandoned when they caught a side glance of something quite noteworthy. A gravestone... their grave stone? The now almost complete rectangle, had most of the writing missing due to several missing chunks. But yet one quite large etching was left in tact, one word in fact. 'Accalia.' After a moment or so the nights pregnant silence was once again cut. although this time it was much more of a crackly yet hauntingly melodic tone ringed out in a quite odd question, "is that my name?"

Despite the questions being said aloud, no answer was returned. But being it was still around midnight in a graveyard one should not truly expect an answer, and with that the robot turned their head and eye back up to the sky. But this time they noticed something that shouldn't be there... pitch black holes. They littered the sky as if they were clouds or perhaps if it were a reflection of the graveyard, as our robot could be found in now. "What is this place?," Accalia calls out in yet another question, eye still trained on the sky and lost in deep thought. Deep thoughts of what's to come.