You're a little pissed off.
Your universe has jumped the tracks; it spins off kilter now, probably about to smash itself into a thousand pieces. Everything holding it together is gone (everything?). Well, Vesper's here. Vesper was here. You don't know if Vesper's here anymore, because here has changed since your mother had the nerve to abandon you to a tiny, minty-smelling goblin that would just as soon have bored you to death as let you starve. Brave and stoic as you are, you definitely tried to bear that purgatory, but with no end in sight after about five minutes, you quickly began plotting your escape.
And that's why you're here now.
You hope your sister followed you, but afraid to look back and find your erstwhile babysitter hot on your tail, you leave your feelings at that. Mama's the bigger loss, after all. Vesper would never betray you so thoroughly as to run off with a shoddy replacement left behind, absolutely the wrong size and the wrong color and smelling all wrong... But enough of that. Bravely you forge on, skittering from one bit of cover to the next, from behind a small hill to behind a scrubby bush to behind a rock shaped like a seagull. You pause every now and then like the excellent tactician you're surely becoming, ears rotating as they scan the area for any sign of friend or foe. And after a bit, your efforts are rewarded:
"Comrades,"
Mama's voice! Instantly you're alert; every stringy muscle in your black glass and charred porcelain body is electric. The thrill of victory sings so sweetly in your veins you forget - just for an instant - how you ought to be sneaking and you leap up, your wings fluttering, lips smacking in what looks like a silent call of acknowledgement. You've yet to actually utter a sound, though; you must be saving your words for something really special. Anyway, you forget to check over your shoulder for the babysitter, just in case, because you've already forgotten him and anyway he's probably long gone, asleep or busy enticing innocent strangers to lick him, or something. Fluttery and exuberant, you bound across the distance as fast as the stilts you call legs will carry you.
It's only when you get close that you notice — all of them.
I mean, it's not a lot but.... It's a lot of strangers. Maybe you don't want to be here, after all. Maybe... your bounding fades to hopping fades to oh shit and the wide-eyed expression you use to communicate this phrase, which you won't start using verbally for a while yet. Eventually your heart kicks into gear, your head kicks into gear, and you scurry over to the nearest cover, hunching your narrow body to make it as small it can get. Still bug-eyed, you peek over the top of the lichen-headed boulder at rest of the warriors (big).
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Playtime is Over (Mandatory Fortify Meeting)
