Work Text:
The animatronic lay crumpled on the ground. This was odd, of course, considering how she typically glided along her track or crawled along the floor in a spider-like fashion on occasion. But there she was, twisted in an odd position on the cold tile floor.
The woman caught a glimpse of her through the murky shadows, the beam from the flashlight between her teeth catching on the metal plates comprising her back. It slightly glittered, the faint sparkle bobbing and increasing in luminescence as she crawled forward. One hand lifted, one hip slid closer to the target of interest.
She grappled with the possibility that she had purposefully fallen off her tracks as a method of luring her closer, but this speculation fizzled out in tandem with her progress across the ground. Ballora had never gone out of her way to chase her, despite what other engineers of previous employment down here had described would happen.
The lack of music sealed away her apprehensions. Ballora always had music about her, resounding from some sort of music box somewhere within her structure. But this night her gallery was left silent, almost lonely. As much as she hadn’t wanted to admit it, the music had comforted the woman. It was beautiful in the way it filled the atmosphere around the ballerina. She would twirl around the room, even singing sometimes in what seemed to be a means of keeping herself company. She would only stop to question if someone else was present, but she would resume her solo soon after. But not this night.
The woman stood up, finding it foolish to continue dragging herself along the dust-laden tiles for no real purpose. From this new angle, the light revealed most of Ballora’s position. Her right arm lay outstretched underneath her head, keeping it lifted from the ground. Her other arm was draped horizontally across her midsection, the back of her hand at the arm’s lowest point. Her legs crossed at the knee, and her skirt revealed itself to be fabric with thin roads of aluminum keeping it in position by the way it bent under the weight of her hip piece.
Her face, appearing almost porcelain in the low light, looked as it normally did. All of her faceplates remained closed, her eyes hidden away behind indigo lids and dark lashes. Her metal hair stood in its permanent bun atop her head and showed no sign of irregularity, and the carved out hole outlined in magenta that served as her mouth was still open in that slightly eerie way it always was due to how the metal was shaped and the lack of hinges to form a jaw for the plates. Yet something differed in her countenance.
Something about her current state, be it a minute detail in how an appendage was positioned or the way her face appeared when she was perfectly still, made her seem oddly human in that moment. She was not hurt, but rather peaceful, and potentially resting. The woman, now holding her flashlight in her hand as opposed to her mouth, had been in similar positions as hers during sleep a few moons ago. Ballora seemed perfectly clean and smooth as well, no dents or scratches scarring her milky white metal.
What a novel concept, Ballora having laid down to rest for a while. After all, under consideration, the woman concluded that remaining upright on the tips of your toes at all hours of the day would be a tiresome and torturous state of being, and therefore she could not bring any blame against what the metal woman had done. It was unfortunate that the only place she had to rest was on the hard ground, no blanket to cover her nor anything else, for that matter, present to keep her warmed. The bunker system did have a tendency to be plagued by occasional chilled spells on some nights, and of course this night was one of them.
The woman concluded that the kind thing to do would be to doff her woolen, full length coat and to repurpose it as a blanket. She slipped it off, the first sleeve coming off with ease but the second fussing for a short bit. After that was settled, the woman took the coat so that she held the edges of the neckline, holding the flashlight between one thumb and one index finger. The collar was then promptly transported to the area around Ballora’s neck. The garment covered a lot more than the woman initially expected, due to the entire foot of height that separated the top of her head from Ballora’s if they both stood up straight. Her feet were left exposed, but the woman ruled it alright for the circumstances she was operating under.
The cold drafts saw this exposure that the woman had now created for herself, and they promptly began nibbling her arms. She put her arms crossed over her chest, but the warmth that created was not enough. However, she could not bring herself to subject Ballora to the same chills in even more scant clothing, so she made a very peculiar decision.
Many technicians of years past would be mortified to know what the woman had already done, but it would worsen tenfold for them when her next actions would be relayed. She dropped to her knees beside the woman cast in steel, sitting back on her feet as she inspected the positions of her arms. She put one of her own hands to the floor, and then the other. She slid over and, carefully as to not disturb her, lifted up Ballora’s left arm by the wrist. She moved her own body closer to hers, and found a spot to lay parallel to her. Ballora’s arm was then replaced to its position, kept just behind the woman’s back.
It was quiet and dark now, the coldness from the tiles only seeping in so far. The coat connected the two of them, even if they did not touch. The woman had not “woken” Ballora from her odd slumber, and she was not in danger. In fact, her close company was comforting, in a strange way. The woman had always believed the dancer to be the most ethereally attractive animatronic out of every one that Fazbear Entertainment had ever crafted, some of her facets more obviously appealing than others.
Yes, Ballora’s company was pleasant. The woman was charmed by her in several ways, and the lack of desire she had to hunt her down added to that. Both Funtime variants of previously existing Fazbear Entertainment characters seemed to harbor a wish for her death, and Circus Baby had misled her on a few occasions before. Yet Ballora was always cool and collected, not concerned with pursuing the woman and instead content to continue her dance wherever she came through.
Several minutes had passed, and now the woman shifted just a little. Nothing changed at first, but soon the animatronic to her back began to lift her left arm up. The woman did not see, of course Ballora being behind her, but she felt when a metal hand first met the skin on her side. She stiffened, her eyes shooting open wider. She felt as Ballora carefully slid her hand over her midsection, slow and light with her touch. She was awake.
This display of gentleness could not be classified as a hostility or anything near it, so the woman settled down from her fright. Her touch felt… almost reverent. The animatronic was content to leave her position like this for a small period of time, but she made the decision to move the woman closer to her in the end. The top of the woman’s back was flush with Ballora’s chest, her thighs making contact with hers and her skirt bending back to accommodate this nearness. The coolness of her metal was docile, more like a pleasing hum of presence than the nips of the tiles below.
The woman sighed a little as Ballora moved her right arm down to prop up her head, sacrificing her own comfort for the sake of the woman’s. The fog of silence had pervaded throughout most of this hour, but it soon cleared when Ballora spoke for the first time that night. “Thank you,” her smooth tone offered, “it is quite miserable without a cover of sorts or any company to share it with. I am also quite intrigued by how calm you seemed when you approached me, and even now. Most run from me, creating a disturbing amount of noise when they flee. But you considered me quietly, and leaned in to my company…”
The woman was still. Ballora had never directly spoken to her before, but her voice had already soothed her on many an evening chore. Her music box began to chime, the musical companion to her presence restored. Ballora spoke to the woman like a friend and equal, so the woman found it fitting to respond with the same attitude.
The woman parted her lips for the first time within the hour, returning softly, “You’re welcome. I noticed something was different with how silent you were, and I thought it would be kind to cover you while you rested.” There was a pause, and then Ballora broke it. “I appreciate it. You know, you have always been my favorite one of all the people who have worked in this bunker. You are polite, and you seem kind from that alone. In what I have seen of you, you possess physical beauty as well. You are a treasure…”
Ballora reached her right hand up, weaving her fingers into the woman’s hair. Although she had not noticed it until that moment, the woman’s eyelids had began to droop down in a sleepy fashion. “Now that you have comforted me,” Ballora cooed, “You should find some rest for yourself as well. I will be here all the while.”