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Post by Neodymium [144] on Jan 31, 2012 22:50:58 GMT -5
The sun was shining bravely through a thin layer of clouds as Neo picked his way through Savior Territory. The patches of cloudless sky were a fuzzy sort of blue and the wispy clouds scuttled from one horizon to another as Neo trudged across the bare, windswept earth. Despite the heavy load on the sled he dragged behind him and the bulky pouch digging into his shoulder, Neo couldn't help but feel happy today. The wind had died down, the sun was shining upon him for the first time in a long while and the crisp air felt wonderfully refreshing against his skin. Everything seemed so...fresh today, as if the sun had given this place a new breath of life. That's exactly what this world needs right now, He thought, smiling up at the pale yellow sun. A little hope, a little life.
He dragged the sled over the frozen ground, listening to the slight rasping noise that the scraps of wood that served as it base made as they moved over pebbles and bits of glass. Upon it sat a peculiar contraption, like a miniature piano, made of clear material to show off its lovely gold inner mechanisms. When the key on its side was wound up, it played a little jingling tune.
At least, that's what it was supposed to do. So far, Neo hadn't been able to get it to work. The wind-up key had broken off the first time he'd tested it out, and now it sat in the velvet pouch slung over his shoulder, mixed in with all of the little trinkets and scraps of wire and fabric that other ragdolls might want to buy from him.
But he wasn't going to the Cathedral to sell his wares, not today. The reason he was making this long journey over contested ground lay on the sled behind him, and in the deep pit of worry that stirred in his soul, constantly bothering him, but he was trying not to think about that part at the moment. Besides, sometimes it's just nice to get away from home for a little while.
Right. Focus on the piano. He told himself sternly, shaking his head, his turquoise hair flopping over and blocking his optics.
He was relatively small for a stitchpunk, in an unassuming garb of black and pale gray, with faded white bandages wrapped around his arms and legs in fear of corrosion. He had no scars. The only things that stood out about him were the mysterious red designs on his arms and legs, his mismatched hands and, of course, the ever-annoying turquoise hair.
He'd heard from another Rogue that there was a very good tinker at the Cathedral, who might know what to do about the piano. Even if it was pretty much useless, some poor sap might still use it for advertisement at their store or something. Even if the tinker had never seen a contraption like the piano before, they might still have the resources Neo needed to fix it.
Those Saviors have everything they'd ever need in that Cathedral. They don't have to risk their necks out in the Emptiness to get every little thing, they don't live surrounded by scoundrels who steal everything that isn't nailed down... Neo stopped his thoughts right there. He had no right to be criticizing the Rogues. They'd taken him in, against all reason, and been nothing but generous and kind since. Besides, he was far too dangerous to ever live among the innocent people under the protection of the Saviors. They were too good for the likes of him.
The Cathedral came into view and grew closer with every passing moment. It was a breathtaking structure, massive and ancient...and its entrance was closely watched by a fellow stitchpunk. Whether it was a guard or just a citizen who felt responsible for his fellows, Neo couldn't tell. They did stuff like that, among the Saviors, they were loyal to one another. Well that's one thing we and the Saviors have in common. He though. Let's start with that, and work our way up from there. Approaching the huge doors, he tried not to look like he was lurking or skulking or sneaking or creeping or anything else that might seem shifty or otherwise bad. Neo didn't think that was exactly working out, so he squared his shoulders, steeled his shy nerves and walked purposefully up to the other stitchpunk.
He dragged the sled over the frozen ground, listening to the slight rasping noise that the scraps of wood that served as it base made as they moved over pebbles and bits of glass. Upon it sat a peculiar contraption, like a miniature piano, made of clear material to show off its lovely gold inner mechanisms. When the key on its side was wound up, it played a little jingling tune.
At least, that's what it was supposed to do. So far, Neo hadn't been able to get it to work. The wind-up key had broken off the first time he'd tested it out, and now it sat in the velvet pouch slung over his shoulder, mixed in with all of the little trinkets and scraps of wire and fabric that other ragdolls might want to buy from him.
But he wasn't going to the Cathedral to sell his wares, not today. The reason he was making this long journey over contested ground lay on the sled behind him, and in the deep pit of worry that stirred in his soul, constantly bothering him, but he was trying not to think about that part at the moment. Besides, sometimes it's just nice to get away from home for a little while.
Right. Focus on the piano. He told himself sternly, shaking his head, his turquoise hair flopping over and blocking his optics.
He was relatively small for a stitchpunk, in an unassuming garb of black and pale gray, with faded white bandages wrapped around his arms and legs in fear of corrosion. He had no scars. The only things that stood out about him were the mysterious red designs on his arms and legs, his mismatched hands and, of course, the ever-annoying turquoise hair.
He'd heard from another Rogue that there was a very good tinker at the Cathedral, who might know what to do about the piano. Even if it was pretty much useless, some poor sap might still use it for advertisement at their store or something. Even if the tinker had never seen a contraption like the piano before, they might still have the resources Neo needed to fix it.
Those Saviors have everything they'd ever need in that Cathedral. They don't have to risk their necks out in the Emptiness to get every little thing, they don't live surrounded by scoundrels who steal everything that isn't nailed down... Neo stopped his thoughts right there. He had no right to be criticizing the Rogues. They'd taken him in, against all reason, and been nothing but generous and kind since. Besides, he was far too dangerous to ever live among the innocent people under the protection of the Saviors. They were too good for the likes of him.
The Cathedral came into view and grew closer with every passing moment. It was a breathtaking structure, massive and ancient...and its entrance was closely watched by a fellow stitchpunk. Whether it was a guard or just a citizen who felt responsible for his fellows, Neo couldn't tell. They did stuff like that, among the Saviors, they were loyal to one another. Well that's one thing we and the Saviors have in common. He though. Let's start with that, and work our way up from there. Approaching the huge doors, he tried not to look like he was lurking or skulking or sneaking or creeping or anything else that might seem shifty or otherwise bad. Neo didn't think that was exactly working out, so he squared his shoulders, steeled his shy nerves and walked purposefully up to the other stitchpunk.
