The damage was done.
He scanned his surroundings, items glowing orange as they were looked over. Broken bodies, seeping oil from their wounds, littered the horizon. He shuddered- millions of his kind, dead.
Turning, he wheeled over to a smashed-in brick wall, held together merely by fragile cement. A strong, whirring arm picked it up, turned it on its axis, let it fall on the nearly-tearing ground. His optics examined the space that was revealed. Another orange glow. Another survivor-less area.
“Wh...” a voice breathed out behind him. His head whipped around to search for the source, surprise and relief apparent in his features. Not even bothering to face the rest of his body in the correct direction, he quickly made his way over to it. “Di... did w... we win?” the wooden female wheezed out, after being uncovered from bits of gravel and stone.
Holding a hand out for her to take, he shook his head. “No. We, actually, took a serious beating. You're the first survivor I've found.”
She looked at the ground once she stood on her feet. “I believe it. Never would we have ever stood a chance.” A sigh escaped her speakers as she held her head. Probably dizzy from the sudden motion.
“Here, I'll help you to the safehouse,” he said, keeping an arm around her shoulder as they moved.
“Thank you.” The screen on her lower face, home to a sound-wave sensor, peaked and dipped with every sound she emitted. His mouth was unlike hers, could be compared to that of a wooden puppet or dummy.
Shards of shattered glass, ashes, even the occasional body, ripped apart by the enemy, were traversed over. Sparks flew from the female's open arm socket. Quickly, he thought, optics darkening as he remembered his own wound, a laser-beam shot, which left a hole going through his hand. Yes, it hurt, but others were in a more dire need for help than he.
Not long after a random peak of pain surged up his arm from his wound- the power to the ligament must be shorting out- the small building was spotted, not far away. The two took their time walking, or, in his case, wheeling, over to it. He held the door open for her, looking for a spot she could wait for assistance at. It was her who found one, and, after thanking him, they parted ways.
There was one soldier he searched through the survivors for. With every unusual face, his persistence only grew stronger. Please, oh, please let her be here! Approaching a male nurse, who was floating over to his next patient, his words spluttered. “Is there a-an Ebony Vedalia in th-is building?”
The nurse glanced over at him, checked a paper, looked back up. “Yes, Mrs. Vedalia is here. I suppose you're Mr. Vedalia?”
“Call my Ubiety,” he introduced, thanking the hovering nurse and turning on his wheel, also thanking the divinity above for her safety. Up a row of laying bodies he went, down the next, up, down, up, until...
“Ubiety, honey, is that you?” an all-too-familiar voice called from below. He backed up towards it instantly. Since knees weren't a luxury he was built with, he lowered his body over his wheel leg instead of bending down.
“Ebony! Tha-ank the Idol you're o-okay!” His voice cut short every now and then, tiny sparks flying from his broken socket. The power shortage in his arm must have affected his voice box somehow. He'll need to get that checked. “Wh-hat happened to you?”
“Oh, it's nothing major. Just my leg spring,” Ebony brushed off her predicament, blue optics glancing down. Ubiety also surveyed the damage, which, he soon found, should not've been brushed off. How did he miss the now nonexistent spring called a leg!?
“We'll need to get that replaced,” he stated, looking up into her optics. “You're not in any pain, are you?”
“Not from this, I'm not,” his wife replied, mouth pointing up in a smile. Hers was a couple small planks with an axis in the middle.
His eyebrows clicked together in confusion, before quickly breaking apart and rising high on his head in understanding. “Do y-you mean-?” He was interrupted by a nod.
“You're going to be a father,” she wiped watery oil from her optics.
Ubiety held Ebony's hand, stroking it lightly. This wasn't surprising to him, since he was already told. Moving his free hand over the door in her stomach, he hushed her sudden pants of pain. “You'll be okay. J-Just say the wor-”
“NOW!”
Caught off guard by the scream, the hand hastily pressed the thumb plank into a small crevice by the door's opening, earning him access inside. An almost unhearable “click”, door swing, cries from both precious beings before him. He slowly closed the door, as to not pain his wife any more, after taking the never-before-seen baby out...
...Wait...
“Welcome to the world, Ripples,” Ebony looked up at the newborn in her husband's arms. She screamed.
...Why- more importantly, how- did their daughter appear to be one of the enemy?
What has this war done?
He scanned his surroundings, items glowing orange as they were looked over. Broken bodies, seeping oil from their wounds, littered the horizon. He shuddered- millions of his kind, dead.
Turning, he wheeled over to a smashed-in brick wall, held together merely by fragile cement. A strong, whirring arm picked it up, turned it on its axis, let it fall on the nearly-tearing ground. His optics examined the space that was revealed. Another orange glow. Another survivor-less area.
“Wh...” a voice breathed out behind him. His head whipped around to search for the source, surprise and relief apparent in his features. Not even bothering to face the rest of his body in the correct direction, he quickly made his way over to it. “Di... did w... we win?” the wooden female wheezed out, after being uncovered from bits of gravel and stone.
Holding a hand out for her to take, he shook his head. “No. We, actually, took a serious beating. You're the first survivor I've found.”
She looked at the ground once she stood on her feet. “I believe it. Never would we have ever stood a chance.” A sigh escaped her speakers as she held her head. Probably dizzy from the sudden motion.
“Here, I'll help you to the safehouse,” he said, keeping an arm around her shoulder as they moved.
“Thank you.” The screen on her lower face, home to a sound-wave sensor, peaked and dipped with every sound she emitted. His mouth was unlike hers, could be compared to that of a wooden puppet or dummy.
Shards of shattered glass, ashes, even the occasional body, ripped apart by the enemy, were traversed over. Sparks flew from the female's open arm socket. Quickly, he thought, optics darkening as he remembered his own wound, a laser-beam shot, which left a hole going through his hand. Yes, it hurt, but others were in a more dire need for help than he.
Not long after a random peak of pain surged up his arm from his wound- the power to the ligament must be shorting out- the small building was spotted, not far away. The two took their time walking, or, in his case, wheeling, over to it. He held the door open for her, looking for a spot she could wait for assistance at. It was her who found one, and, after thanking him, they parted ways.
There was one soldier he searched through the survivors for. With every unusual face, his persistence only grew stronger. Please, oh, please let her be here! Approaching a male nurse, who was floating over to his next patient, his words spluttered. “Is there a-an Ebony Vedalia in th-is building?”
The nurse glanced over at him, checked a paper, looked back up. “Yes, Mrs. Vedalia is here. I suppose you're Mr. Vedalia?”
“Call my Ubiety,” he introduced, thanking the hovering nurse and turning on his wheel, also thanking the divinity above for her safety. Up a row of laying bodies he went, down the next, up, down, up, until...
“Ubiety, honey, is that you?” an all-too-familiar voice called from below. He backed up towards it instantly. Since knees weren't a luxury he was built with, he lowered his body over his wheel leg instead of bending down.
“Ebony! Tha-ank the Idol you're o-okay!” His voice cut short every now and then, tiny sparks flying from his broken socket. The power shortage in his arm must have affected his voice box somehow. He'll need to get that checked. “Wh-hat happened to you?”
“Oh, it's nothing major. Just my leg spring,” Ebony brushed off her predicament, blue optics glancing down. Ubiety also surveyed the damage, which, he soon found, should not've been brushed off. How did he miss the now nonexistent spring called a leg!?
“We'll need to get that replaced,” he stated, looking up into her optics. “You're not in any pain, are you?”
“Not from this, I'm not,” his wife replied, mouth pointing up in a smile. Hers was a couple small planks with an axis in the middle.
His eyebrows clicked together in confusion, before quickly breaking apart and rising high on his head in understanding. “Do y-you mean-?” He was interrupted by a nod.
“You're going to be a father,” she wiped watery oil from her optics.
Ubiety held Ebony's hand, stroking it lightly. This wasn't surprising to him, since he was already told. Moving his free hand over the door in her stomach, he hushed her sudden pants of pain. “You'll be okay. J-Just say the wor-”
“NOW!”
Caught off guard by the scream, the hand hastily pressed the thumb plank into a small crevice by the door's opening, earning him access inside. An almost unhearable “click”, door swing, cries from both precious beings before him. He slowly closed the door, as to not pain his wife any more, after taking the never-before-seen baby out...
...Wait...
“Welcome to the world, Ripples,” Ebony looked up at the newborn in her husband's arms. She screamed.
...Why- more importantly, how- did their daughter appear to be one of the enemy?
What has this war done?
