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Fresh Cut Grass awoke to the familiar jingle of After Rain’s alarm clock, marking the end of their 6 hour stasis. Grey eyes lit up blue, and energy whirred throughout their body as life once again took root throughout their inner mechanisms, bringing them to life.
They took in the sight of the bright blue sky overhead, before springing to life and rolling over to where Dancer was still sleeping, turned on her side with a blanket draped over her shoulders. Fresh Cut Grass knew that Dancer had always hated mornings, so they put extra care to be as positive as possible.
“Smiley mornin’ Dancer,” they said. Dancer didn’t respond, so they continued. “It looks like the weather is better, so I think we’ll have a better shot at clearin’ out that silver mine.”
They were met with silence, and their heart fell in their chest. Dancer was upset. Of course she was upset- they had done an awful job at healing everyone yesterday. Hell, Oatmeal had almost been downed because they had run out of spells.
“I’m really sorry about yesterday and runnin’ out of spells and all. I know it’s my job to keep everyone safe and alive and I messed up, but I promise I’m gonna do a lot better today. I got all my spells back and we’re all ready to go back in! Isn’t that right guys-”
Fresh Cut Grass had spun around to his friends for backup to help raise Dancer’s spirits but was met with desolate, resounding silence and still. Not only were his friends silent, they were dismembered, lifeless on the ground.
“-Guys?”
With a feeling of pure dread in the pit of their stomach, Fresh Cut Grass rolled over to the pile of scattered scrap metal. It took only a glance to identify the corpses of those in the pile, but a good minute to fully comprehend what had happened.
All of his friends- his family, really- had been reduced to scrap. Giant gash marks covered their bodies and pools of leaking oil coated the strands of torn out, frayed wiring. Names flashed through Fresh Cut Grass’s head as they took stock of the dead.
Instantly, they cast cure wounds on the nearest body, who just happened to be Oatmeal. Golden divine light flashed from their hands and lit up their body, but to no avail. They knew they weren’t powerful enough to bring someone back from the dead. It was too late.
“Oh my god, Dancer, something happened, I don’t know I was-” Fresh Cut Grass started rambling, before trailing off, the dawning realization carving its way into his throat.
Slowly he turned. Dancer wasn’t moving.
Fresh Cut Grass didn’t breathe normally, but they felt what Dancer had described once before as bated breath.Slowly, Fresh Cut Grass rolled over.
With a careful hand, they put a hand on Dancer’s shoulder and pulled.
They saw Dancer’s body, pale and bloody and unbreathing, and then it was multiple days later and night and someone was yelling.
“Oh shit, what the fuck?”
Fresh Cut Grass looked up to see a very green person with spiky amethyst hair walking upon the scene, eyes wide.
“Smiley day to you, stranger,” Fresh Cut Grass managed out. When did it become night?
The stranger looked upon the blood soaked automaton surrounded by corpses. “Did you do this?”
“Well I don’t think so,” they responded, sincerely. “I’m not really sure who did it. Dancer was awfully nice, so I wouldn’t think she had too many enemies.”
“You were with her? Dancer?” The person asked, softening a little.
Fresh Cut Grass nodded. It was such a strange feeling. They had just lost everyone and everything, but they had no ability to cry. They were sad, but they had to doubt their own sadness- after all, they didn’t have a soul. They weren’t made to feel grief- so why did they feel like crashing waves and acid? It didn’t make much sense, but neither did the deaths of his family.
“She was my friend,” they replied simply, the words unable to express the deep and profound bond they had shared or the grief they were feeling. Their job was to be positive and make others feel good- being miserable would just upset this nice stranger.
“Damn,” the stranger grumbled. “Alright, what’s your name?”
“My name is Fresh Cut Grass,” they responded.
The stranger furrowed their brow and cocked their head to the side, before shrugging. “Sure. Fuckin’ weird, but whatever. I’m Ashton.”
“It’s very nice to meet you, Ashton. You seem like a very nice person,” they said genuinely.
Ashton barked out a laugh. “Sure. Look, why don’t you tag along with me for a bit. I gotta take you back to the people who sent me out here to find your sorry ass.”
“Are we friends?” Fresh Cut Grass asked.
Ashton laughed, the slightest bit cruel. “No.”
“Oh.” Fresh Cut Grass said. “Sorry for askin.’”
Ashton stopped and frowned, regretful. “Ok, maybe.”
“Maybe?” Fresh Cut Grass lit up.
“We’ll see. If you don’t annoy me too much. Now, let’s get going. I don’t like being out here at night.”
Fresh Cut Grass hesitated and turned back to the pile of corpses. “Can… Can we give them a funeral first?”
Ashton shrugged. “Yeah sure. You got a shovel?”
They rolled over to Apple Pie’s body. Zir normally pink eyes were dull. It hurt to see, but more did the immense guilt that was consuming him from the inside out. Keeping everyone alive was their job, their one purpose. Their life was meant to be used for others, and now everyone was dead except for them. It was cruel irony, and a small, pathetic part of him wanted to be dead with them. He just wanted to lay down with his family.
Instead, he picked up the shovel that had once belonged to Apple Pie- his sister- and brought it over to Ashton.
“Here you go.” Fresh Cut Grass couldn’t protect their family. What they could do is help Ashton, and if they got to repent for their failures in the process, well that was just a bonus.
Ashton rolled his eyes, and Fresh Cut Grass knew then that he would do anything to protect this person, no matter the cost. They wouldn’t fail like this ever again. They would make Dancer proud.