Chapter Text
The first memories it has are damp like a pressing rag. Pressing in as a chalky, riddled..thing..but it has no clue exactly what these things means. It’s aware nothing is completely blank; there's a lush greenery around them–it?---and that seems to span on for ages.
It isn’t sure.
It is also aware there's a squirming bundle in its arm. It’s tightly wrapped in some orange cloth, and whatever it is pressed into its ribcage. It made these ugly, whiney noises that dragged in through the..cycles. It still isn’t sure what to call it. The sky will be blue and bright for a long time, and then becomes a deep violet that stretches on rather wrongly. It thinks that it takes too long to become that pretty blue again.
Right. The Bundle.
That’s what It has began referring to this strange creature as–Bundle.
Bundle will cry and huff into Its ribcage, trying to grasp at something that isn’t there. It isn’t quite sure what it’s supposed to do with Bundle, but it tries anyway. Sometimes; It gets this strange, tingly feeling that It’s doing something right. That's mostly when Bundle stops scrunching their skeleton face and those weird noises sooth.
It and Bundle lay in the grass a lot. Bundle will start to blubber again, and It will roll over and try to soothe Bundle. This is a strange routine, but It thinks it must be doing something right. It must be.
This routine doesn't last long.
It finds everything very strange. They find Bundle’s cloth–a pretty color, orange–discarded on the grass covered in a thick, sparkly thing. It finds out this pretty thing is called dust, and it suddenly realizes dust is everywhere.
It passes Its sharp phalanges through some strange wooden structure; staring intently as the layer of ‘dust’ that has coated its nail. It has to shake off their hands several times to fully rid of this new, intriguing substance. There's a flicker–a weird, strange thing–in its ribcage that thuds repeatedly, but It doesn’t linger on this oddity.
It searches for Bundle.
Bundle must’ve gotten all dirty from the dust; having probably explored in it before throwing off their clothe and digging deeper into the strange, bountiful foliage. It assumes Bundle will begin its screechy yowl soon, and only then, will It search for Bundle.
Cycles pass. At least twenty–as that's how many it counted with all ten of their fingers and all ten of their toes.
The dust lays on thicker and nearly chokes It as It presses further and further into the forest. The bones that make up Its body are marred and dyed a pale, ashen color that's much different from the beige color it once was.
Bundle has not even made a loud, achy sound in those twenty cycles, so it presses further and wades through the abundance. That strange, gnawing pit in its belly has not gotten any better–only expanded and exploded. It has begun to..prefer..this strangeness. It’s new, and it spends hours trying to find out what this thing is.
Its feet make a crunching sound, but it isn't concerned about this. It doesn’t know what concern is, but It discovered and mouthed the word over and over again until it tasted okay inside its mouth.
A strange, brown speckled leaf under his foot. It plucked it up from where it idly sat on the green, spiky flooring. Its phalanges rub the curious thing raw and frenzied until it begins to rip apart, tearing away and crumbling from its boney hands easily. It expects something more but isn’t disappointed by the lack of spectacularity.
It presses on.
The cycle is a maroon color, now. The cycle is cold as it presses onto Its dirty bones, but It has no other reason to press on this matter and continues to press through the flora. The leaves tremble and the twigs on the ground give way to It, crackling and shuffling when It passes. It is aware of the feeling of being crawled on embarking on their bones–and it watches as a strange critter scuttle on them.
The critter is small, red, and has black dots on its skin.
Its face contorted in a strange way and cocked Its head to the side to watch this strange critter.
Without second thought, they stretch out the phalanges and raise their hand–and then crushes the critter beneath their boney palm. It stares and analyzes the squished remnants of it–tracing over the flakes of the red and black critter.
It brings their palm up to its mouth and begins to squish and press the things together, It’s..strange…teeth? Clinking against the surface of their palm. A strange burn stings in It’s frame; the kind that has begun rattling in an indignant way. It feels a noise–something It has never made before–bubble up to the surface.
“Rauuughh..” It growled, mouth parts–and then blinked in astonishment as It’s palm suddenly entered Its mouth. A strange, baffling moment passes where it is caught up in the absurdity of it all.
It swirls its palm in its mouth, feeling the critters' flakes slowly deposit and settle in Its mouth. It tastes something bitter, and when it clenches its teeth slightly, a loud crunchy sound follows not long after. It feels it’s palm whine as its teeth clench onto it–and, after a brief, curious moment, pulls out their palm.
Bundle must’ve been aware of these strange things. It has never made a noise, ever. It has not ever whined or hiccuped, and It has certainly never yowled and cried the way Bundle did, but Bundle always did. Bundle babbled and blubbered until they were nothing more than a desolate whine away, and would always leave an odd wet substance on Its clavicle.
“Wauuughh..ughhhh..” It begins growling, experimentally opening Its mouth and in some sort of faux-amazement; listening to every drawn out and droopy syllable that escapes them. “Bwaugh!” It huffs out loudly, propelling themselves slightly forward with the forceful intention of the growl.
The tumble is loud and crinkly. The skeletal body rustles in the mulch and is bruised by pebbles as It rolls. It is only half-hazard aware of Its face getting pelleted by the grass, staining their bones with more than just dust, but with dirt and green flakes. Small noises escape Its mouth–sharp and chirrupy as every inflict of a rock rumbles through them.
“Buuhhh..” It groaned as it came to a standstill in the grass–except now, the grass is wet and blue like the overhead above it. Was it already blue cycle?
It’s sockets glance up, and the cycle is still dark and rustic; a grimmish mix of blues and purple. Its sockets glance back down at what they’ve laid in.
The wet liquid simmers and swishes through their ribcage, filling up slightly. It’s strange and cold to the touch, forcing this strange and subtle shiver all throughout Its form. The movements of the liquid aren’t formidable by any means, jiggling around and refusing to be calm.
It attempts to grab whatever this is in its phalanges. It pools up in Its palm, but the strange liquid seeps between the indents and every crack it’s ever formed on them., and then dribbles down back onto the path made of itself.
There's pebbles at the bottom, as well as something solid swimming past Its legs. It moves fast, and no matter how many times it tries to catch the strange things, they’re slippery and move on in between their phalanges to escape.
“Gruuhhh..” The noise bubbled out after a moment of consideration. It lurched forward—face once again colliding with the wet liquid. It floundered for a moment, but managed to pull themselves on the green grass and escape the wet blue grass.
Its knees scrape against the greenery, and its sockets admire the small drag of mud that had followed out after them. “Wuuahh..” It mused. It was as if once these sounds began, they couldn’t stop. Abundant and following after like a..a…
It doesn’t know. It thinks there's a proper comparison, but it’s mind can’t bend or mend to find what it properly wants to say this is.
Its sockets train on the blue grass, and how it follows endlessly. Yes. These sounds that It’s making are comparable to..to..that. The blue grass. These noises that It cannot stop making and bubbling up to the surface are like that onslaught of blue grass and the strange foam it produces.
..Bundle.
It stumbled back to its feet, digging into the mud experimentally. That strange shiver runs through It as the brown muck squelches. “Wuh..” It smiles and then turns away. Bundle has been gone for twenty blue cycles and twenty dark cycles; it understands.
The forests depths are incredibly confusing but rewarding–and It just wants to press further and further.