Chapter Text
It hates walking. It hates walking so much. It hates walking so, so, so much. Its feet hurt, its mouth is dry, and a torrent of sweat means that the layers it’s been ‘granted’ are disgustingly soaked through with sweat. Were it not for the shade of the forest, it certainly would not have made it this far on foot. Upon which realizing that fact, it starts going…slightly delirious. What if there isn’t ANYONE else, because everyone on the planet spontaneously died? What if – what if another of itself comes after it for abandoning its mission? What if, because it has not replaced anyone, it cannot die? It will perpetuate until it is witnessed by a human, at which point it will immediately expire from dehydration? It stumbles along, wishing for all the world that it knew anything about wilderness survival, when it spots something beautiful in the distance.
The backyards to a row of suburban households.
With a renewed sense of vigor, it moves to the closest choice – the unfenced backyard of a two-floor house covered in slats colored a pleasant shade of teal. Practically dashing up to the back door, it reaches out and -
- it wakes up with a start with cool water being dumped on its face. Once it manages to feebly wipe away at the water in its eyes, it realizes that it is now horizontal, staring up at the ceiling of the house’s back-porch area. That’s odd. It doesn’t remember ever going horizontal.
“Are you alright?”
The voice startles it to a sitting position, face-to-face with what appears to be a teen-aged boy holding a now-empty glass at his side. The two maintain eye-contact for what’s most likely an entirely uncomfortable amount of time (though, it wouldn’t know that from experience) in complete silence.
Oh, fuck.
Oh, fucking hell. It didn’t even bother to practice talking! Like a person! Okay. Don’t panic. It HAS this in the BAG. It takes a deep breath in and out – and shrugs. “Imn, Wagther.” Its voice is rough and scratchy and comes out as barely a whisper. Most likely from never being used and from the fact that it is SEVERELY dehydrated. The young boy merely frowns and moves back into the home via the backdoor. It tries to follow, but only manages to weakly shift around on the spot. It weakly realizes that it is absolutely starving, alongside the horrid pangs of thirst. Though, not a moment too soon, the Boy returns with a glass of ice water.
And it has never seen a more glorious sight – not in all the maybe four-to-five hours of physically existing! Grasping for the cup, it clutches the precious relic and guzzles the ichor of the Gods as one might expect after spending several hours being severely dehydrated and hiking through the woods.
“Are you alright?” The Boy repeats, still just standing there on the porch. It realizes he’s wearing a simple pair of shorts-and-t-shirt combo, and that it’s intruding on what must have been a relaxed…. whatever the day today is. Supreme Flat Fuck Friday Tuesday Thursday, or something. Another deep beath in and out. It HAS it this time, it will DO THIS THING. “I’m. Fine,” It croaks out, fooling absolutely no-one.
“Rrrrrright. Well…who are you?” Oh. It wasn’t prepared for this part either. Quick! Say – say something! Anything! Not having a name’s weirder than…not having one! Probably!
“Emil-ark. Th…Thop. Emilark Thop.”
The Boy says nothing for a good few moments, staring back at…Emilark. Yes…it is Emilark. That is its name. Perhaps it could go through several variations at a later date, but it’s not so terrible for something it made up on the spot. Yes, it will do as -
“Do you…” The Boy glances around. “Are you homeless?”
It shrugs – Emilark certainly isn’t on any registries anywhere, so…
“Yes.”
“Huh. Well…do you – would you like to come…inside?”