|To help us or to fail us? (re-write)
Author: DragonFlame88 PM
(re-writen on a new account) A prototype. That's all I am. I've failed my purpose. What more is left in this world? When the lost stitchpunk is discovered, life suddenly plummets into danger for the stitchpunks, and in the end, will she help us, or fail us once again?Rated: Fiction T - English - Romance/Adventure - 8 - Chapters: 4 - Words: 5,363 - Reviews: 6 - Favs: 4 - Follows: 6 - Updated: 02-09-13 - Published: 10-28-12 - id: 8649868
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
NOTE: This is Dragonflame99 here, on a new account, due to the fact I can no longer access my old one, so, I iguess from not on, I'm Dragoflame88.
Here, I decided to re-write my old story '0's story: To help us or to fail us? since, well I didn't think it was that good, and I felt I wasn;t going in the direction I had been hoping for my story, so... Here's the first part of my re-write on 0's story, which I hope you all enjoy ^^
To help us or to fail us?
The midnight wind howled outside his window, like a lonely wolf. The candle light filled the room enough for him to see.
Even if all he could see for the moment was the ceiling...
Things had only just quietened down a while ago, both from outside his house and in. The rebels had returned but he knew the quite wouldn't last for long. The world was coming to its end. All because of a series of misfortunate events and many miscalculations. He had to perfect this, or he could never make up for what had been done.
But then how did he know it would happen? Who would have known?
But life must go on...
That seemed to be the sentence he needed to push himself back up from the floor where he had fallen, and rub the back of his head.
Honestly, he was praying it worked this time. He stayed sat down for a good minute to recollect his thoughts before standing, his legs wobbled dangerously as he grabbed the edge of his work table for support should his leg give way.
He almost felt too old to be doing this...
His gaze snapped up. Just as his hands connected with the table – with a quite loud smack – He heard a terrified scuttle and only caught glimpse of a fabric figure diving behind a book that had been folded out into a tent like shape. (He had intended to put it back in its original place, but had been so busy he hadn't found the time.) He stared for a moment before letting a smile crack through.
Could it really be...?
Very cautiously and gently, he reached over and curled his fingers around the edge of the dark blue book, and slowly lifted it up.
His smile widened once he saw it.
The small doll had scrunched itself into a ball, its knee's pulled up to its chest, its hands clasped onto its feathered head in fear and in a futile attempt to protect itself.
Like a human...
The soul transfer had worked.
Tenderly and quietly, he placed the book down a good distance away from the frightened doll on its side, before placing his hand close to the doll. It shuffled away awkwardly when it saw this, not going far once it's back hit another book.
He went to gently poke the doll for a reaction, and gave a little gasp when it kicked his finger with its metal foot and mumbled out in fright, "Leave me alone!"
The voice was timid, and had a strong feminine hint to it, suggesting the doll was female (although, thinking about it, it was still a doll, weather it had a soul or not) but even through the defensive yelp, he could hear that 'she' was frightened.
"I won't hurt you." He spoke gently, not wanting to become a supposed threat to his own creation.
Her gaze snapped up, and she gave a little whimper. "Do you... Promise...?"
He gave a small nod, and, although she didn't look one-hundred percent convinced, she placed her metallic hands against the wooden surface and pushed herself up.
She yelped as she stumbled back, before gasping in surprise when he caught her mid-fall. She looked up at him, as if to give a silent 'thank you' before pushing up from his hand and balancing onto her feet.
He glanced over his creation once again.
He wondered if he'd made her too tall. She was at least 9.6 inches tall, which was much taller than the height he had intended for his next creation.
But oh well. Perfection can't be expected at this stage.
Her body was held together by a single lacing which weaved up through the small holes to the top of her chest, where a small knot sealed her closed. The fabric she was made from was a creamy coloured fabric, her hands and feet made purely from metal.
She looked rather bare when the features of her neck up didn't count.
She had a green patch of softer fabric on the left side of her face, after he thought he couldn't find any more of the same fabric he'd already used (only to discover more later, but then he was rather happy he added an extra little feature to his creation.), and upon her head, he had found a few chocolate brown feathers.
They had, for a fact, once been a part of his wife's favourite earrings. He didn't know whether she was alive or not. He had told her to take their only daughter and leave the city along with a group of fleeing civilians who wanted to make for certain the machines would come near to them, and promised sanctuary.
He missed them both. But if they were safe, he at least hoped they'd stay safe.
The feathers upon her head almost reminded him of his daughter. She too had brown hair, and didn't care much for weather it was in a state or not. Three feathers hung forward while one strayed back, close to the three roots which seemed to sprout out.
The feathers bounced as her head spun about, looking about her surroundings, her optics seemed to read 'What is this strange place I have woken up in, from out of nowhere?'
He couldn't start to imagine how hard it must be to suddenly exist in a world; with nary a clue on the world or what lay in it, and the other would feel the same. That's why he needed her to know.
"My dear." He spoke in a gentle voice, loud enough to capture the dolls attention. "I imagine you have some questions you would like to ask."
She paused for a moment, her optics floating away from him for a brief second as she 'bit' her lip, as though trying to piece together what that entire sentence had meant.
She then faced him and nodded. He internally sighed with relief, happy he wouldn't have to explain what a question was.
"Yes..." She began slowly, her voice had been summoned hesitantly, and now that she wasn't whimpering in terror, she almost had an intelligent feel to her voice, but not in an 'I know it all' way, but in a slightly more curious way. "I suppose the first thing to clear is, who am I?"
He smiled and gently pointed towards her shoulder. She obviously still had some fear towards him as she jumped the moment his finger came close to her, but she didn't exactly protest. In fact, after she saw he meant no harm, her demeanour relaxed a bit more.
"You, my dear, are the first of my creations. Successful -She noted he looked saddened for a split second before it passed-. Your name is Zero."
She looked down upon her left shoulder, where the number 0 had been printed in ink. She then looked at her other shoulder. 0. It was on her back too, but she didn't bother to look there, almost as though she knew she wouldn't be able to.
"Zero..." She mumbled to herself. She murmured it a few other times, looking back and forth from each shoulder, and glancing down at herself a few times, before looking up to face him again. "My name is... 0... Who are you then?"
"I am your creator. Using a piece of my soul, I brought you to life, giving you the ability's you poses now. You're more human than what you appear to be."
She frowned, stepping forward in curiosity. "What I appear to be? More human?"
He sighed slightly. "I'm a human."
"My creator." She added, almost light-heartedly. He nodded before continuing.
"Though you, Zero, are what people often refer to as a doll. Only, dolls don't inhabit any ability to walk, speak or think for themselves, and they more importantly don't contain a human soul, like me as a person."
She tilted her head. "Wait; is a soul what make a... person?" He nodded, slightly surprised at her intelligence.
"Yes. I suppose it is. Without a soul, anything can be easily corrupted. That is truth. Not fact, Zero." She frowned slightly, her eye darted about and she gasped when the night wind howled once again.
He briefly looked towards the window before back at the fabric being once again.
"0... I am giving a very important task." She gaze snapped towards him as her expression was all surprise with a hint of fear. "You must relay this message to the others I am to create in due time... This is very important." The last line seemed to hook her in more.
He knew this was probably very pressurising for her, but there wasn't much time. He had to be done with this so he could move on to the next one.
He wondered whether it would all work though.
Would she remember?
What if something happened to her? She seemed very cautious and protective of herself and well-being, which was a good sign in some cases, but not always, For exsample, what if she became too nervous to approach the others? He could only hope...
Life must go on. Starting with Zero...
To tell us...