Work Text:
Hands cut across plating all too worn by time. Its soft, worn. Marred. Sand clinging to it, abrasive and wettly. Red mud dries on its surface in little rivers, in sheets like waves. It flakes under the touch.
"Little one... So small, so new…"
Hes old. Forgotten by promise and left to sit. It hurts too much. Hes faded from the sun and rusted from the grass. Fingertips worn to stubs, broken at the knuckles and shredded metal. Oh no…
He tried to get out, he wanted to see, at least one last time. Thinking he didn't. He did it for the voice, for the comfort and support. For the love. His head rolls with a thunk and a scrape as hes ever so shifted. Visor brittle, cracking, falling. Glass shards on green clover. Eyes dull, void of color.
There, around his neck, a vial. Empty now with broken glass. Knees buckle and collapse, claws twitch and throat constricts with tears. Purple and blue petals crushed under legs and buckled torso.
”I missed you, my love..."