wywaskblog

[wywaskblog]

If you find the gore around you unsettling Bloodmoon, I am afraid you'll like what the virus did to your roommate even less...If you catch my drift?

There was a silence from Bloodmoon. His fingers curled around nothing, not even his jammed claws digging into his apron.

“…I know.” Despite his quiet words, there was a faint sense of alarm beneath them. The others weren’t aware that it was a virus—he wasn’t sure what they were aware of and knew about him. Guilt ate at him all the same.

[wywaskblog]

characters have to be a little bit awful in ways that you cant defend. its good for the ecosystem. your honor he did do that. He did in fact do that

[wywaskblog]

[wywaskblog]

actually we should start headcanoning female characters as being terrible with children

[wywaskblog]

[wywaskblog]

✎ㅤ. . .ㅤ𝑯𝑬𝑨𝑫𝑪𝑨𝑵𝑶𝑵 𝑸𝑼𝑬𝑺𝑻𝑰𝑶𝑵𝑺.

₊˚⊹ ㅤa collection of character analysis/headcanon questions to learn more about your character and your partners'! writing/headcanon prompts requested by anonymous. feel free to edit these as you see fit.

[ 🖐️ ]ㅤ.ㅤwhat do their hands feel like: soft, calloused, trembling ? [ ☂️ ]ㅤ.ㅤdo they crave touch or fear it ? [ 🎐 ]ㅤ.ㅤdo they have a sound, like a song or voice, that they associate with peace ? [ 🕊️ ]ㅤ.ㅤwhen did they feel the safest ? [ 💤 ]ㅤ.ㅤhow do they sleep ? curled up, sprawled, holding onto something ? [ 🦇 ]ㅤ.ㅤwhat is a fear they never talk about ? [ 🔒 ]ㅤ.ㅤwhat is a secret they’ve sworn never to tell ? [ 🪢 ]ㅤ.ㅤwhen was the last time they broke a promise ? [ 🫳 ]ㅤ.ㅤwho do they feel they owe, but never paid back ? [ 💼 ]ㅤ.ㅤwhat do they always carry with them ? [ 🧨 ]ㅤ.ㅤwhat’s the quickest way to set them off, even if they hide it well ? [ ⛓️ ]ㅤ.ㅤwhat does guilt feel like to them ? [ 💢 ]ㅤ.ㅤwho have they never forgiven and never will ? [ 🩸 ]ㅤ.ㅤis there something or someone that, if lost, would break them ? [ 🌧️ ]ㅤ.ㅤis there a pain they refuse to heal from ? [ 🪞 ]ㅤ.ㅤwhen have they looked at their reflection and hated what they saw ? [ 📿 ]ㅤ.ㅤwhat superstition or ritual do they cling to ? [ 🌊 ]ㅤ.ㅤwhen was the last time they cried ? [ 🐾 ]ㅤ.ㅤdo animals like them instinctively ? [ 🪶 ]ㅤ.ㅤhow do they laugh ? [ 🫀 ]ㅤ.ㅤwho taught them what love is ? did it hurt ? [ 💭 ]ㅤ.ㅤdo they believe they’re worthy of being loved ? [ 🎀 ]ㅤ.ㅤwhat is their main love language ? [ 🔦 ]ㅤ.ㅤwho do they search for ? [ 📜 ]ㅤ.ㅤis there a story they love sharing with others ? [ 🌒 ]ㅤ.ㅤdo they have a dream or goal they have given up on ? [ 🕯️ ]ㅤ.ㅤwhat memory do they replay when they’re alone ? [ 🌪️ ]ㅤ.ㅤwhat’s the one choice they regret (not) making ? [ 🧩 ]ㅤ.ㅤwhat’s a truth about themselves they refuse to admit ? [ 🍻 ]ㅤ.ㅤwhat kind of drunk are they ? [ ✉️ ]ㅤ.ㅤwhat kind of letter would they write but never send ? [ 🗡️ ]ㅤ.ㅤwhat is a scar that they have but never talk about ? [ 🕸️ ]ㅤ.ㅤdo they have a favourite lie they like to hear ? [ 🪦 ]ㅤ.ㅤwhat would they want on their gravestone but never admit aloud ? [ 🎱 ]ㅤ.ㅤwhat kind of future do they crave, and who’s in it ? [ 🌀 ]ㅤ.ㅤdo they have a recurring dream or nightmare ? [ 🍃 ]ㅤ.ㅤdo they feel like they belong ? [ ⚓ ]ㅤ.ㅤwhat does “home” mean to them ? [ 🧭 ]ㅤ.ㅤwhere would they go if they could disappear tomorrow ?

[wywaskblog]

At the sight of Perigee's tail puffing up behind them, the eclipse stepped back. At the very least to give the smaller animatronic space. His optics trailed down to Peri's raised arms, and how visible their claws were. She stiffened at the sight, ever so slightly, though she forced herself to remain calm. Claws, not unlike Bloodmoon's. Though, here, they were out. As if Apricot was something to be afraid of, as if they needed to protect themself from her.

The baker held her hands up, as if to show some sign of surrender. "Okay, hon. I ain't gonna hurt you—jus' wanna help get you settled, is all," she stated, looking over the smaller bot with some worry.

"Sugar, I ain't gonna come any closer. You ain't in no trouble here, I promise." Apricot even stepped back a bit further to create some distance. Any space that could hopefully help to calm down Perigee. "Just wanna know how you ended up in our house is all. Can’t imagine how scary it must be—gettin' lost, then findin' a bot like me standin' over ya." The eclipse recognized easily how he towered over the other bot, after all. He paused momentarily, as if considering his next actions.

Apricot was really doing their best not to seem like they were upset in anyway. They weren't, genuinely, they had simply been startled at finding another bot within their home. If it was a human that had come in, then perhaps there would be different circumstances, but bots were always welcome here. That being said, the taller animatronic couldn't help but be reminded of a stray cat that hadn't been given any positive attention in a long time. Not to be dehumanizing at all towards the other bot—that wasn't her intention at all—but she had to be slow about this. Not to spook the other away.

"Would it help if I introduced myself, darlin'? Might make things feel a little less frightenin', yeah?"

Perigee had been wandering around AUs again, using their their portal-maker to open rifts in spacetime, looking for places they could enter.

That is how they found themselves in. A house. Of some sort. Goodness, they should probably leave before someone notices...

Apricot flitted around the house like she did most days. Daydream normally was in charge of house chores, but he was growing rather restless with how little Sungrass seemed to be improving. If he was improving at all. She was doing her best to be understanding; the sun had been traumatized in an awful, brutal, and painful way. It was something she hadn't come to terms with herself, but he knew that Sungrass was the one affected—not them. But...

It made them feel so helpless, as if he couldn't do anything to help. Sungrass had rather shut himself in his room. At the very least, he hoped that the bot was charging in his room. It wasn't something the sun talked about often to him—perhaps it was rather personal—but the eclipse couldn't help but want him to be okay. Well, physically as he could be, at the very least.

While he had been lost in his thoughts, he paused at seeing a new bot that he hadn't seen before. How did they even get into the house? Had Daydream, or perhaps someone else, let them in?

Despite his worry about possible dangers, Apricot wanted to believe the best in everyone. She even believed that Bloodmoon hadn't meant it. Sungrass was more familiar, closer to the moon than she was, and the farmer always talked about how the ex-butcher hunted, like it was natural. She hadn't questioned it then, and perhaps she should've, and yet she didn't. Bloodmoon had been soft, quiet, and made himself rather scarce, up until he... attacked Sungrass.

She shook his head. They would muse about that later. Her optics turned to Perigee, her ring-like pupils trained on the smaller bot. "Hiya, hon. Don’t think I've seen you 'round here before. You alright? How'd you end up in here?" Apricot paused. She didn't want to seem like she was interrogating the smaller bot; he certainly had no intention to scare them. She considered her words carefully before they continued to speak.

"You're welcome to stay, sugar; I can fix you up somethin’ to eat. Do you eat? You sho do look like some o’ the models we got ’round here, but I just gotta check. Sorry if I’m wrong, hon."

[wywaskblog]

Perigee had been wandering around AUs again, using their their portal-maker to open rifts in spacetime, looking for places they could enter.

That is how they found themselves in. A house. Of some sort. Goodness, they should probably leave before someone notices...

Apricot flitted around the house like she did most days. Daydream normally was in charge of house chores, but he was growing rather restless with how little Sungrass seemed to be improving. If he was improving at all. She was doing her best to be understanding; the sun had been traumatized in an awful, brutal, and painful way. It was something she hadn't come to terms with herself, but he knew that Sungrass was the one affected—not them. But...

It made them feel so helpless, as if he couldn't do anything to help. Sungrass had rather shut himself in his room. At the very least, he hoped that the bot was charging in his room. It wasn't something the sun talked about often to him—perhaps it was rather personal—but the eclipse couldn't help but want him to be okay. Well, physically as he could be, at the very least.

While he had been lost in his thoughts, he paused at seeing a new bot that he hadn't seen before. How did they even get into the house? Had Daydream, or perhaps someone else, let them in?

Despite his worry about possible dangers, Apricot wanted to believe the best in everyone. She even believed that Bloodmoon hadn't meant it. Sungrass was more familiar, closer to the moon than she was, and the farmer always talked about how the ex-butcher hunted, like it was natural. She hadn't questioned it then, and perhaps she should've, and yet she didn't. Bloodmoon had been soft, quiet, and made himself rather scarce, up until he... attacked Sungrass.

She shook his head. They would muse about that later. Her optics turned to Perigee, her ring-like pupils trained on the smaller bot. "Hiya, hon. Don’t think I've seen you 'round here before. You alright? How'd you end up in here?" Apricot paused. She didn't want to seem like she was interrogating the smaller bot; he certainly had no intention to scare them. She considered her words carefully before they continued to speak.

"You're welcome to stay, sugar; I can fix you up somethin’ to eat. Do you eat? You sho do look like some o’ the models we got ’round here, but I just gotta check. Sorry if I’m wrong, hon."

[wywaskblog]

september 6, 2023

[wywaskblog]

@loppy-watches-over

It takes one of the floating eyes dropping her into the void below for her to wake up with a screech, flailing with what little energy she's regained from comfortable sleep. Oh, gosh, Dreamworld sucked that time. She sighs, staring at the ceiling and remembering that she'd been brought into the house where she met Sundowner. By Bloodmoon. She thinks. Yeah, that Daydream fellow said that was the red moon (whom she'd mentally dubbed Kool-Aid). So. As far as she knows, there are...several DCAs in this house. There's...Daydream, Sundowner, Bloodmoon...and Sundowner mentioned Sungrass?? Hm. So that left...one more she hasn't heard of or met. That would be the eclipse, wouldn't it? Maybe? She isn't sure, but she struggles to sit up in bed, glancing at the door.

The scene that Lophren awoke to was unexpected, to say the least. Especially with how hostile Sundowner had been to Bloodmoon upon his arrival.

Sundowner's hand had been on the Bloodmoon's face, one that was still smeared with the crimson from his hunt. It was clear that the moon had stayed all the while the rabbit slept and, at some point, the sun had entered as well. Sundowner was certainly much closer than anyone anticipated, with how his faceplate was only a few inches away from Bloodmoon's. It was almost intimate, if it weren't for the way the ex-bartender's grip on the moon's faceplate was so tight—not allowing Bloodmoon to look away. The moon hadn't resisted as he was pressed against the wall.

At Lophren's thrashing, Sundowner had moved away from Bloodmoon, as if his hand had been burned. Like Bloodmoon was disgusting, despite having been so close with a confusing gentleness moments prior. The moon himself was rather quiet, his face covered with his hood and, from where Lophren was sitting, not even his optics could be seen.

"Lophren," Sundowner greeted, as if his actions were normal. Perhaps it was for him—certainly no one else, except for Apricot, would try to stop him. And that was if the eclipse knew.

He was much better at hiding it, now.

The sun stepped back, his optics glancing downwards momentarily to see the blood smeared on his glove. How unpleasant. That would have to be washed later. His attention returned to the immortal, acting entirely as if Bloodmoon wasn't present. "Are you doing well?" He glanced to the bedside table, where soup was cooling now. A glass of water sat next to the bowl, while the anti-itch cream laid a decent distance away from the food.

[wywaskblog]

At Lilac's permission, Daydream seemed rather startled. Despite the best of her ability, some of her reactions still slip through her forced calm, and his body jolted ever so slightly. It wasn't that he was uncomfortable with the idea of carrying Collin. No, not at all. But the idea of touching someone while unconscious, being touched while unconscious... it's something he's all too aware of.

"I understand," she answered, quieter than she meant for it to be. He walked to Lilac's side and stood there for a few moments, almost hesitant at all of the trust being placed in him—even if it was temporary, and something that wouldn't happen under normal circumstances. Despite him noticing the way Lilac's smile wavered, he didn't comment on it. There was no need to. She didn't want to draw attention and make the other purple bot aware of it.

And he understood having what it was like to have someone that was everything to them. He used to—

(Where was N̷̹͋̄̃͘͝î̸̻̱̹g̸̡̻̮̙͕̀ĥ̸̨̭̭̻̊ṫ̵̢͚͍̣̎͐̽̕m̸̲̰͐à̴̭͎̫̔̾̀̕r̸̫̅̊̉̚e̴̢͍͚̰̒͒̚͝ now?)

The moon finally approached Collin's body. He didn't reach out just yet, not at all touching the unconscious bot. She turned to Lilac for a few moments, and showed her hands. Four-pointed yellow stars were painted onto her hands, the same shade as her eyes. "I am going to carry Collin in a pack-strap carry," he stated, making his intentions clear. He did not want to cause unnecessary stress for Lilac—she knew how much he was looking out for his brother.

After letting her words sink in, Daydream moved closer and shifted Collin's body to a sitting up position. Her touch was minimal, but with care; the moon was doing his best to touch Collin as little as possible. Finally, when the unconscious bot was in position, Daydream crossed the other's arms and swung them over his shoulders and around his neck. The size difference was present, with how Collin was a foot taller than the moon. Despite this, she didn't complain, and leaned forward as he walked forward experimentally. When he was certain that the bot was secure, he moved towards the doorway.

"I will show you your room," the maid stated. She would have turned around to see Lilac's expression, but her movement was more limited with him carrying Collin. After her rather short statement, she began to walk towards a spare room after a few moments.

Well in the Rain

There's rainwater in the well, Oliver realises as his HUD boots back up. The soft hush of falling droplets fills his audials as he stares down at the cylindrical rock structure, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. His brother, Collin, sits beside him on the grass, leaning against the well. His eyes are dark. Rivulets of watered-down oil stream down his face as the rain washes away what damage it can, but it can't take the fire scars and the emotional mutilation that they've both been through. Collin more than he, he knows for sure. His tail gently caresses his brother's cheek as the low-battery animatronic lay there, his default smile unfading, his expression vacant. No reaction comes from the sunset-coloured animatronic, and sadness pangs through Oliver's very being. He hopes he can find a way to return his brother to this world. The rain strengthens, pushing his fronds down with the beating weight of the droplets, and his hopeful smile drops for the first time in...forever. In front of him, the well slowly fills, and he watches it until he can't bear the water any longer. He hauls Collin up, over his shoulder (ripping his beautiful sweater in the process; this won't be the first or last time he'll be fixing that), and starts walking towards...gods only know where. He'll figure it out. He always does.

[wywaskblog]

"You're losing blood" no I know exactly where it is. The floor. Don't ever underestimate me.

[wywaskblog]

Her words send a thrum of worry through the moon.

Immortality was something that hasn't been achieved by humans here—let anyone anyone or anything—but it was always a topic of interest. The idea of living forever was tempting to some. To others? Not so much. The idea of outliving one's family, friends, and anything mattered, was often enough to turn someone away from wanting immortality. Being alive often made life more valuable, something to cherish. It gave meaning to life. At least, it did to the moon.

But he had never considered the idea that an immortal wanted to be mortal. He had never thought of the idea how someone would want to give it up. And the way Lophren spoke, well, admittedly scared him. It reminded sometimes of the few patients who had given up entirely on recovering in the hospital. Of the ones who laid in their hospital beds, staring up at the ceiling, with an IV drip in their arm.

"...I'm sorry," he can only rasp while petting her. His body shook slightly with tears that couldn't spill forth. It was something he envied about those who were alive; the ability to express emotions in such a way that couldn't be turned off. "Sorry that it—it happened." He seemed to pause, hearing her mutter, and he shook his head.

He lacked the words to comfort her. He wasn't much of a talker, unless it was about procedures he was familiar with himself. It was something that he wish he was better at. For Lophren.

"You. Don't apologize... please."

She's hideous. She's mentally exhausted. She's nauseous. Is it even possible for an immortal being to be sick? She doesn't care. Actually...where the fuck even is she? She can't bring herself to raise her head. Move a muscle. The scent in the air is familiar. Like. Machines. But... She can't even. She's so weak. What's wrong with her? Everything's so bright. Oh, yeah. Her protective skull's been knocked off by the force of air travel. She lies in the grass, not even caring who stumbles across her. Something went wrong around here. She can feel it. But. Her scars itch. The ugly fucking things they are complain against the innocent breeze. She's so done. She's so tired. Someone, please find me.

@loppy-watches-over

The day has begun to fall, the sun slowly going down in the distance. It was strangely silent, as if all life had went into hiding—or had been purged. The only noise that broke this unsettling quiet was the faint sound of grass crunching underfoot. The stench of death drew closer, a strong coppery scent that couldn't be missed that could only mean trouble.

A red moon model had come to a stop a few feet away, looming over the rabbit. The bot's red eyes—ones that were thankfully not pinpricks or with entirely red sclera—looked over Loppy. Dried blood was on the animatronic; a dark, reddish-brown that blended in with his pants, and less so his apron and jacket.

Splotches of red were present. A more recent killing done by his hands.

Bloodmoon approached the rabbit, slowly crouching down to her level—like one would an animal that easily startled. A bloodied hand reached towards the immortal, stroking the top of her head. A living creature that he refused to kill, now that his mind was his again.

"Poor thing..." he rasped. The moon assumed it was dead. After all, what hadn't he killed?

[wywaskblog]

The purple moon nodded, turning around before she returned back to the doorway. She only paused when she didn't hear the sounds of footsteps behind her, and looked back. His entire body followed, pupiless eyes watching as Oliver prepared to stand and bring his brother. She was not judging them one bit—she could understand how disorienting it would be, to be treated so nicely after facing such cruel treatment.

"Do you need assistance?" Daydream inquired, if only to be polite. He wouldn't have made a move to touch either bot if he was close; he had no intention of making them uncomfortable in any way. He was simply still, unmoving. The way he was never seemed to bother any humans, at the very least—he was a machine, an animatronic, and he would never be seen as something more than that. He was simultaneously grateful and displeased with it, as it gave him a set of internal rules he could change for each of his owners.

But with other animatronics? That was something—others—that he may never understand, with his programming. He understood Apricot well enough, because she was human-like. But. The other bots treated him as if he weren't lesser.

Well in the Rain

There's rainwater in the well, Oliver realises as his HUD boots back up. The soft hush of falling droplets fills his audials as he stares down at the cylindrical rock structure, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. His brother, Collin, sits beside him on the grass, leaning against the well. His eyes are dark. Rivulets of watered-down oil stream down his face as the rain washes away what damage it can, but it can't take the fire scars and the emotional mutilation that they've both been through. Collin more than he, he knows for sure. His tail gently caresses his brother's cheek as the low-battery animatronic lay there, his default smile unfading, his expression vacant. No reaction comes from the sunset-coloured animatronic, and sadness pangs through Oliver's very being. He hopes he can find a way to return his brother to this world. The rain strengthens, pushing his fronds down with the beating weight of the droplets, and his hopeful smile drops for the first time in...forever. In front of him, the well slowly fills, and he watches it until he can't bear the water any longer. He hauls Collin up, over his shoulder (ripping his beautiful sweater in the process; this won't be the first or last time he'll be fixing that), and starts walking towards...gods only know where. He'll figure it out. He always does.

[wywaskblog]

Bloodmoon was thankful for the lack of conversation. He didn't want her to ruin her throat trying to speak, which was the most important reason as to why he was letting the silence linger. However, in truth, he hadn't remembered what had happened. His internal clock had said that a few hours had passed? But even that could be incorrect, especially whenever those episodes happened. Days seemed to be more accurate, considering the extensive corrupted memory he had.

With how Sundowner greeted him, which was already unusual, and. And what he had done to Sungrass. He didn't remember that. He—he had hurt Sungrass, his closest friend, and. That mortified him. His hand stilled suddenly as he recalled Sundowner's words, before he tried to continue petting Loppy, as if he were unaffected.

The red moon was pulled out of his thoughts as the purring sound he heard registered in his audio processors. Was. Was Lophren purring? He said nothing about it, only petting her gently still on her fur, and Bloodmoon can't help but look at her with endearment. At least he hadn't hurt her. Yet. He hoped it would never come to that, but he knew that the episodes with his virus would continue, regardless of his wishes and wants.

His clawed fingers began to stay away from the scars. He couldn't help but want to touch the scarring, but he didn't want to accidentally scratch her in anyway. He let his fingers wander across her fur wordlessly, as if mapping out her body with his hand.

She's hideous. She's mentally exhausted. She's nauseous. Is it even possible for an immortal being to be sick? She doesn't care. Actually...where the fuck even is she? She can't bring herself to raise her head. Move a muscle. The scent in the air is familiar. Like. Machines. But... She can't even. She's so weak. What's wrong with her? Everything's so bright. Oh, yeah. Her protective skull's been knocked off by the force of air travel. She lies in the grass, not even caring who stumbles across her. Something went wrong around here. She can feel it. But. Her scars itch. The ugly fucking things they are complain against the innocent breeze. She's so done. She's so tired. Someone, please find me.

@loppy-watches-over

The day has begun to fall, the sun slowly going down in the distance. It was strangely silent, as if all life had went into hiding—or had been purged. The only noise that broke this unsettling quiet was the faint sound of grass crunching underfoot. The stench of death drew closer, a strong coppery scent that couldn't be missed that could only mean trouble.

A red moon model had come to a stop a few feet away, looming over the rabbit. The bot's red eyes—ones that were thankfully not pinpricks or with entirely red sclera—looked over Loppy. Dried blood was on the animatronic; a dark, reddish-brown that blended in with his pants, and less so his apron and jacket.

Splotches of red were present. A more recent killing done by his hands.

Bloodmoon approached the rabbit, slowly crouching down to her level—like one would an animal that easily startled. A bloodied hand reached towards the immortal, stroking the top of her head. A living creature that he refused to kill, now that his mind was his again.

"Poor thing..." he rasped. The moon assumed it was dead. After all, what hadn't he killed?

[wywaskblog]

"I mean, we do got a handful o' different chargers—since not every bot here's from the same generation. Still, good to know. Can't say for sure we got one fo' your type o' model, though. Sorry 'bout that, hon," the eclipse apologized. He seemed to notice the way the other bot's smile wavered, but he didn't push. These bots just had a rather hard time, especially because of the rain. "Ain't no need to thank me, sugar. I mean it. 'm just real glad you ended up here, even if things been rough. Now lemme grab you some clothes, 'nd I'll find ya when you're comfy, alright?"

Apricot smiled a little, in hopes of being welcoming, before she turned. He briskly moved past Daydream, who stepped aside to let the much taller bot leave the living room. The maid watched the two bots wordlessly for a few moments, those sunset eyes boring into Oliver, and then Collin, before the moon approached slowly—like how one would with a scared animal.

He stopped in front of them, his movement rather stiff in contrast to the baker's liveliness. "There is a spare room I can show you. Do you need a moment, or would you like to go now?" His words were rather soft, not at all pressuring in any way. It was something he learned well, as not to upset his past owner. The moon's hands were clasped together, and she did not sway like the other animatronics. It was somewhat disturbing how doll-like she was.

It was if you could stand her up or position her however you pleased.

Well in the Rain

There's rainwater in the well, Oliver realises as his HUD boots back up. The soft hush of falling droplets fills his audials as he stares down at the cylindrical rock structure, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. His brother, Collin, sits beside him on the grass, leaning against the well. His eyes are dark. Rivulets of watered-down oil stream down his face as the rain washes away what damage it can, but it can't take the fire scars and the emotional mutilation that they've both been through. Collin more than he, he knows for sure. His tail gently caresses his brother's cheek as the low-battery animatronic lay there, his default smile unfading, his expression vacant. No reaction comes from the sunset-coloured animatronic, and sadness pangs through Oliver's very being. He hopes he can find a way to return his brother to this world. The rain strengthens, pushing his fronds down with the beating weight of the droplets, and his hopeful smile drops for the first time in...forever. In front of him, the well slowly fills, and he watches it until he can't bear the water any longer. He hauls Collin up, over his shoulder (ripping his beautiful sweater in the process; this won't be the first or last time he'll be fixing that), and starts walking towards...gods only know where. He'll figure it out. He always does.

[wywaskblog]

The maid had lingered long enough. At the very least, he did seem to acknowledge Loppy's words, but said nothing further. Daydream nodded quickly again, before his optics trailed from the immortal to Bloodmoon. An indiscernible emotion seemed to to seep itself into his expression, but the moment was gone as soon as it came. The purple moon turned around with a quiet flurry of his dress, and left soon after for what Bloodmoon asked of him.

The ex-butcher stayed quiet. His hands simply ran over Loppy's fur, making sure he didn't tug at any tufts. The bot was far too... ah, well, he didn't want to hurt her at all. Not in any way. His claws would occasionally ghost the scarred area, as if just to feel, before his fingers quickly moved away soon after.

He certainly hoped there was gauze. He would rather not have the immortal itch at the scars—the itchiness meant the scars was healing, and itching at it would only cause inflammation, infection, or damage to the healing skin. That was something he wanted to avoid for Loppy's sake; it was something he never had to worry about, being an animatronic, but he had seen infections that were rather awful. Lacerations that got infected were an ugly, painful sight, and. The gauze would at least be a physical barrier, at the very least. Though, he would have to replace the gauze, or perhaps bandages? If they even had that? Well, he would have to replace it once a day, and hopefully put more anti-itch cream then.

Something about this made him rather nostalgic. The act of taking care of someone hurt in a way he hadn't expected—

He missed being able to help in the process of healing.

She's hideous. She's mentally exhausted. She's nauseous. Is it even possible for an immortal being to be sick? She doesn't care. Actually...where the fuck even is she? She can't bring herself to raise her head. Move a muscle. The scent in the air is familiar. Like. Machines. But... She can't even. She's so weak. What's wrong with her? Everything's so bright. Oh, yeah. Her protective skull's been knocked off by the force of air travel. She lies in the grass, not even caring who stumbles across her. Something went wrong around here. She can feel it. But. Her scars itch. The ugly fucking things they are complain against the innocent breeze. She's so done. She's so tired. Someone, please find me.

@loppy-watches-over

The day has begun to fall, the sun slowly going down in the distance. It was strangely silent, as if all life had went into hiding—or had been purged. The only noise that broke this unsettling quiet was the faint sound of grass crunching underfoot. The stench of death drew closer, a strong coppery scent that couldn't be missed that could only mean trouble.

A red moon model had come to a stop a few feet away, looming over the rabbit. The bot's red eyes—ones that were thankfully not pinpricks or with entirely red sclera—looked over Loppy. Dried blood was on the animatronic; a dark, reddish-brown that blended in with his pants, and less so his apron and jacket.

Splotches of red were present. A more recent killing done by his hands.

Bloodmoon approached the rabbit, slowly crouching down to her level—like one would an animal that easily startled. A bloodied hand reached towards the immortal, stroking the top of her head. A living creature that he refused to kill, now that his mind was his again.

"Poor thing..." he rasped. The moon assumed it was dead. After all, what hadn't he killed?