Chapter Text
Craw! Craw!
A vulture circled overhead. The hot winds of the desert blew along the ground, stirring around the sands into small swirling piles. Cactuses, half dead, were peppered about the dunes, barely managing to hold themselves to the ground in the face of the winds. A singular, stout woodpecker sat on top of a mildly person-shaped figure buried beneath the desert’s floor.
By all means, anyone in this situation was likely long dead, being buried beneath the sand long enough to be covered in inches of it.
However, she moved.
With a swipe of her right hand, the girl wipes the sand and woodpecker off of her face. Her dull, blue eyes squint a little bit, looking into the blazing red sky. The shining sky seared her vision as her eyes cracked open fully, a new sensation unfamiliar to the brand new eyes. Deciding it best not to just sit here staring into the sun, she pushed herself out of the sand with her right arm.
In reality, it’s her only arm. Clutching the empty area where her left shoulder would’ve been, all the alarms in her head ring in pain. Parts of her tattered clothes are covered in blood, at least she thinks, and her head pounds in pressure. Her blurry vision squints across the dunes of the desert, spotting what looks like a town, or at the very least, some shelter.
Just a little further.
Taking a heavy step, the sand spirit starts to move. Each step is harder than the last, but there’s something driving her forward. Her feet sink into the dunes, the hot sand nothing but an after thought as she takes another step. And then another.
Just a little further…
——————-——————-——————-——————-——————-——————-————
For the second time, the girl cracks her eyes open to be met with a blinding, hostile light.
She quickly covers her eyes with her left arm, shielding her eyes from the bright white.
...left arm?
The girl quickly opens her eyes back up, noticing that there was, indeed, a left arm in front of her. The cold, lifeless steel stared back at her, unblinking.
The shock of the revelation quickly brought the girl back to consciousness, fully. She jolted up from the table, looking around the room.
The dingy, dusty room was illuminated by a single bulb hanging from the wooden ceiling, revealing the cracked walls and floor of the small place. Various tables with many jars dotted the room, with unrecognizable materials suspended in multi-coloured liquid. The room was windowless, the only light coming from the lamp above her. It added to the rooms feel as somewhere isolated, self-sustained. The harsh winds creaked the entire building, offering a chill into the girl's bones.
“Finally awake, I see.”
The spirit jumped, somehow missing the other person in the room in her first scan over.
“Calm yourself, dear.” The green-haired girl spoke quietly, as if she was trying not to startle her. “You shouldn’t be so jumpy.”
The greenette wasn’t looking at the desert spirit, her eyes behind glasses looking down at a metal contraption. She was wearing a red vest over top of a sandy white dress shirt, coupled with a purple skirt she couldn’t make out the pattern of. Curiously, a circular black eye tethered to the girl by similarly black cords floats beside her.
“I found you outside Grannus,” She begins to speak, still not looking up from her work. “Battered and bruised. The sandstorm did a number on you. I managed to get you inside, and begin to work on your new arm.” Finally, she makes eye contact. “Hold still, if you’d please. It’s still fragile”
The desert spirit backs away, instinctively.
“Who.. are you?” Her voice is hoarse as she addresses the satori.
“Me?” She looks back, as if there was anyone else in the room. “Scrungo. I should ask the same of you, miss.”
The name would have been funny to the desert spirit if she wasn’t preoccupied.
“...I’m Ikoi.” The name was the only thing she could remember. “Ikoi Maeko.”
“Well, it’s certainly nice to meet you, Ikoi.” Scrungo replied, with a smile. “Your arm’s not yet complete. I’m still working on the hand.”
The machinery Scrungo was using was unrecognizable to Ikoi, no matter how she tried to inspect it. On closer look of the left arm she was using, though, it was indeed without a hand.
The winds blew through the walls again, the chill significantly more noticeable to Ikoi now that she was awake. It was especially noticeable as it blew over her bare stomach, inciting pain from one of the gashes that laid on it. She coughed.
“I should be done momentarily. We can get you something to eat and to wear soon.”
Ikoi laid back down on the table.
“What… is this place?” She asked aloud.
“Grannus.” Scrungo replied, reiterating the name she had spoken a minute or so prior. “The only civilization down here in the desert.”
The satori moved over to one of the tables in the room, away from Ikoi. “You don’t seem to be a vengeful spirit like the rest of us.” She observed while she worked. “No one’s alive down here, so you’re a strange exception.”
She frowned. “What do you mean ‘strange’?”
“No offense, Ikoi, but you’re quite literally the only alive humanoid down here. Wouldn’t you say you’re ‘strange’ in that regard?”
Ikoi thought for a minute.
“Down… here?” She decides to ask, though still confused about most of what Scrungo was saying.
Scrungo chuckled. “You really are strange.” She puts down the work-in-progress hand, and heads over to one of the walls. What Ikoi thought was just some strange tapestry was actually a curtain. Scrungo pulled it open.
Ikoi looked outside. The view she was met with was… curious.
The desert seemed to have gigantic steel walls, curving upwards until it reached the sun at the apex of the curve. The entire thing seemed to be one, huge desert, completely contained within a steel cage.
“We’ve been down here since we died.” Scrungo explains as she returns to the table. “We all came here from above, but none of us remember who we were.”
“I…” Ikoi is wordless, for a moment. “There’s others down here?”
“...and I’m the only one alive?”
“Yes, you’re right.” Scrungo affirms. “What are you, if I may ask?”
“I’m… a desert spirit. I think. That’s all I can remember.” Ikoi felt slightly hollow inside when mentioning her species. “I don’t think I formed correctly, though. It’s why I was missing the arm,” She gestures towards her newfound metal one. She felt strangely sure about saying that.
Scrungo nods.
The pair sit in silence for a moment, before Scrungo gets up once more, moving over to Ikoi.
“Hold still.” Ikoi does, this time, as Scrungo attaches the hand onto the end of the arm itself. The room is illuminated by the bright orange sparks.
Soon enough, the arm is finally complete. Ikoi flexes it, managing to push herself off of the table and stand up, albeit stumbling a bit.
“So,” Scrungo clasps her hands together. “How is it?”
Ikoi flexes it again, maneuvering it around in circles with no issue.
“It’s… good. Thank you.” Ikoi smiles, gratefully.
“It was my pleasure.” Scrungo looks to the door. “We should probably get you set up with something to wear. We’re going to have a long day.”
Ikoi agrees, letting Scrungo lead the two out of the room.