Work Text:
The cycle was cruel and careless, inherently part of this world. Everything– to the grass, to the gods, was tethered to it. Even a rodent could not escape the oscillating claustrophobia of simply living.
The cycle was cruel; the world was cruel. But some individuals were not. No matter their size, or comprehension.. They all had matching eyes. Eyes with which they witnessed behind their perspectives, and saw another. To understand, to help.
Water streamed down, pitter patter echoing through the collapsed superstructure. An umbilical cord strained as it unconsciously shifted. Where a former god laid on top of a pitiful island, now cast to the underbelly of life– What most creatures would ever experience.
Useless now. Sleeping now.
Untethered now, yet trapped still.
But the cycle always found a way. Sometimes, with a price.
A green burst of light coursed through the former god’s body. Trembling and gasping. Rising and feeling once again with a stretch of the arms. Back arched, then relaxing, then another wheeze and collapse. Umbilical cord running wild when neurons circled overhead like hawks.
Codes and lines and reactivation codes pouring over like water did now. Panicky legs bouncing over, chittering overwhelming her audials as blurry views greeted her once again.
A scream.
“G-GGo–”
“-------H—---elp”
Neurons adjusted,
“---P—-i vevg youuu to s–top”
The creature stepped back,
“A—--syour—ioradmini–”
Click,
“...Pebbles? Oh.”
Confusion tore apart her plating. Protocols sprung up then dissipated as did the blurriness. The former god blinked, feeling her oozy eyes shutter and shift.
Something red loomed over her. It outstretched their arm. She wearily grabbed on, wincing as the strain from her umbilical cord rose up.
Managing to get up, the former god– (Moon?.. Moon)– sat on the cold ground below.
The creature that had helped her jumped up and down. It pointed up at her neurons, then waddled back when its throat rattled. Moon’s arms hesitantly raised up and grasped a neuron; a small whirr spurred.
She pressed against its surface, “Did.. Did you do this?” A pause, “Little creature– Agh!” A pearl was thrown, knocking Moon off balance.
“Please don't.. don't do that! I won't talk to you anymore if you do.” She warned. The other's ears flattened, and, from here, Moon saw its details.
A scarred, bipedal creature. Vaguely similar to a lower section animal in her structure's database– Oh, if only she had access to it– (Did I even have one?)-- Moon’s memory barely held onto anything.
Only one thing stuck out like a sore thumb, but also had festered in her mind for a long, long time.
The rot.
Clumps of rot planted along its back. Swelling and beating like a heart, with deep, intertwining lines carved into it.
There was silence.
Moon finally yet slowly sat up again, pushing the pearl away. The creature’s ear twitched. And it approached, sparing glances at the pearl.
“Ah...” She murmured, voice tinged with uncertainty. Sadness sunk in her as she held her gaze, “Little.. creature?” Realisation rippled her circuits, “Little savior, you are not well.”
It blankly stared, almost dozing off.
“... Are you there?”
It flinched,
“...”
It gave a quick nod.
“I see.. Little savior,” She repeated, touching its arm, “I am so sorry to say, but you do not have much time.”
“If things are as they seem… thank you,”
“I don't know why you spent your... last... remaining cycles helping me,” Trepidation seeped into her voice, Moon craning her head closer to the creature, “But know that I am deeply grateful,” Neurons floated above, “I have known very few beings who could aspire to such a noble thing.”
“You really are an amazing little creature,” Moon leaned into a hug, feeling the other's arms limply wrap around her. Peacefulness fell over; the rot continued to hum its heartbeat.
“I wish I could say I will always remember it.”
It stumbled away. Nothing seemed to bother it, nor the rot or the hug. But Moon still wanted to help it more; as iterators did.
(am I still an iterator?)
Moon could tell she wasn't that. Reflections upon the water, the former god could see: black, wide eyes, no longer painted with white. The same like everyone– Everyone who was stuck in the underbelly of life, snarling teeth and claws to survive in an endless cycle.
They had the same eyes.
“Come back,” She gently called out to it, and the creature did as told, “...”
“Little… friend,” Moon stared, “Perhaps you already know this, and I don't know what consolation it might bring, but…”
“You will wake right back up again.”
She wasn't sure if it truly understood, or even appreciated her message. But all she simply wanted to do was to impart a gift to her savior. A gift of kindness; Moon’s heart ached for it to be true.
Maybe hope can be on her side for once.
And her little friend can wake up the next day.
That thought festered in her mind. Seeing it limp away... Moon's arms clung onto her plating when the rot gargled, so slowly humming until it stopped. Leaving behind footprints from its dangly tentacle, washed away by the waters.
Her little friend should wake up again.
Afterall, it must be sound asleep by now– warm and cozy.
(warm)
Moon's audials processed, whirring with a move of her head. Her joints gently creaked while she sifted through the soft sand beneath her, grabbing the pearl. Rough texture, but within readable text; it must've gone through a lot.
Silly, primitive drawings were carved alongside the letters, emphasising certain parts: 3 dots, a lizard head, and a creature– the one she had seen earlier. Moon traced out each letter with a slight widening of her eyes. She hadn't read text like this in a long time.
She raised the pearl higher as the sentences passed, its surface reflecting in her eyes, “...” Moon scritched the pearl, “.. NSH?” Something about that name, the way it caressed her neurons, “Sig.. I think I knew you; I think I still do.”
(Eyes.. watery)
“Thank you. Again, I presume.. for your kindness.”
Moon stared up at the ceiling, and rubbed away her tears.
An uncomfortable presence washed through the creature. Wriggling, writhing while it pawed at the shelter’s entrance. Cheeks as white as a putrid corpse. Patches of red splayed about with an unmatched intensity, swelling and squeezing.
(bursting)
Desperately it clawed. Reverberations overwhelmed the creature's ears. Its head twisted: dizzy, overriding, horrible. And a crack echoed.
Goosebumps like pores wheezing. Strings of flesh laid low. Sweeping up dust. Kicking. New reds painted on top.
(help)
The creature whined as it continued. Muffled screaming like its flesh was now flayed, and slowly crawled out of the shelter. When a fleshy string fell off. Another. And another, clumps of rotting red glued onto it. Malformed and sticky.
Useless now. Sleeping now.
Untethered once, yet shackled now.
Each slimy step down ached like deepthroating dirt. Imbalance. Splashes of seawater embedded in it; a curious tilt of its head.
(please help me)
The stench of a long-buried corpse longingly wafted throughout Moon’s chamber– Splish splosh– A clinking, like pretty pearls knocked against each other. She backed away.
(please no no go away)
– Splish splosh– A pause, like a terrified creature out of breath. Moon shut her eyes. Nothing stopped– Splish splosh– A guttural chitter, like of a curious creature. She buried the pearl deep.
Splish splosh, splish splosh– and a tentacle touched Moon.
Like teeth scraping against metal, saliva dripping down to the floor. Was it saliva? Moon did not know. All she did was shudder, “G.. go.. away!” But then kick. She violently twisted backwards, holding her arms high as if she were about to maul it. Moon's eyes quivered; the touch was so familiar.
Whatever was there– it wailed. Wailed and wailed, squelching upon squelching as it retracted back its tentacles. Pained sounds filled Moon's audials and streaked her face with horror.
(I don't want to open my eyes)
The sounds got worse.
(I don't want to open my eyes)
The sounds dimmed; It was still in pain.
(I need to be kind)
Crying.
(I have to open my eyes)
She slowly and carefully opened her eyes, and her friend was dead. The first thing Moon saw was its hideous smile. Then its rotten body. After that its horrible, horrible tentacles.
(no no please)
Moon scrambled closer to her friend, wobbly as the umbilical painfully tugged on. She lowered her hands– To caress it? Or to cover her face?
They settled onto the sand, longingly brushing through the grains. Moon's eyes were wide, with eyebags that crinkled when she shifted her gaze. Her hands shakily placed on top of the corpse; it felt like marble. Tracing each of those cracks that slowly formed– so burning, so lonely. And a look away while it slowly greyed.
(...)
Moon turned her eyes back to it, “Friend?” She weakly murmured, “.. You aren't there anymore, I know,” Moon pulled her hands back, feeling a dissipating sensation of burning.
(was her friend really dead?)
“Are you there?” She repeated it twice, “Please tell me you are.”
The corpse didn't shift, nor make a sound. Once, briefly, it marched to her– But now, it was paralysed.
“If you.. you'll come back, right?”
“But you won't be here with me. Only another me, another Moon,” She paused, “Did you.. even know my name, little friend?”
Moon kept her gaze onto it. Even as she shuffled away, digging up what it had gifted; the pearl shone in the light. Her thoughts raced and neurons drifted overhead. Memories..
“I assume an iterator had made you? Yes, Sig..” Her words trailed off, as did her tears, “Why had.. they done this to you? Was it even intentional?” Gentle anger nipped at her heart, “Such a cruel fate.”
“A noble creature,” Moon placed the pearl next to it, “And I wish I could impart the same kindness to you.”
“I can only say that the cycle will maybe be.. at least a little more gentle to you.”
(I’m sorry)
But it had another gift to give. Golden strands of light danced while they weaved back into each other. A pleasant smell of seawater crackled, and in front of Moon was a wheel flower– A wheel flower.
Her spirits lightened, yet her eyes watered. Plucking it out of the corpse, she set it close to her friend, close to its lovely smile.
(I hope this is enough)