Scribble: Distracted in Class

...revisiting old ideas...

Scribble: I really should be sleeping right now...

      The valley had been still that night, as only the gentle rustling of the woody hills above hinted at a breeze. Traces of clouds drifted at the edge of the sky, as stars emerged, little by little, from the ever-darkening aether. Far above the slumbering valley, the twin moons rose above the horizon, mismatched spheres vying for control of the night.
      Moonlight glinting off its slender frame, the stargazer perched between the trees of the hills, nothing more than a sapling hidden among giants. With a hand lightly resting upon a nearby trunk, the silent watcher scanned the night sky, its eyes clicking and whirring with each shift in focus. As a gentle breeze slipped through pliant, verdant limbs, a mechanical sigh slipped into its wake, followed by the sound of footsteps.
      "What brings you up here, Lon?" came a soft, tender voice, with all the warmth of familiar fingertips. Stepping quietly into the moonlight, the young girl casually brushed a stray silver lock from her face, her eyes never leaving the slender figure before her. "Everyone else is already asleep or on standby for the night..."
      "My apologies, Lana," chirped a pleasant, tinny voice, as the stargazer's curious eyes turned toward the newcomer. Helping her into the narrow space beside it, the mechanical watcher placed a steadying hand upon the girl's back, as she climbed into one of the higher branches.
      "I simply wanted to observe something I hadn't before," it continued, returning its gaze to the endless sea of stars above. "Archivists only have the opportunity to store data; rarely do we ever get to collect it ourselves."
      With a smile, the young girl nodded at the slender stargazer beside her, letting one leg dangle playfully from her new-found perch. "I suppose it's something else to see stars and moons for yourself, having only known pure data all your life," she softly said, as another breeze tousled her long locks.
      The quiet sound of a synthetic sigh pulled her eyes back to her companion, its own gaze unbroken.
      "That is true, Lana," came the wistful reply, "yet, what I observe, if my understanding is correct . . . is beauty."
      Silence slipped into the air between them, as an uncertain smile wavered, just before beaming with the brightness of the stars themselves. "Yes," Lana whispered, her eyes drifting back to the endless sea above, "it is."
      Without another word, the young girl nestled into her perch, as the twin moons continued to rise into the sky, filling the valley with gentle, silver light.

Freeform: Permanence.

      Hidden beneath faded tattered robes, the lone observer stood upon the rocky shore, lost amidst the mist and crashing waves. From the darkness under its hood, two unblinking golden eyes peered out over the horizon, as though searching for something in the shapeless gray waters. Yet, with a hollow, tinny sigh, the seeker's watchful head lowered, as thin, metallic fingers wrapped tightly around a weathered staff.
      "Able," came a voice from behind, as the ever-vigilant eyes turned to face the newcomer. Clad in a traveler's cloak, she silently approached her companion, her footfalls barely seeming to touch the sodden ground. "Have your senses taken leave of you again, my old friend?" she continued, her voice barely above a whisper.
      "No, my young Tesslyn," came the hollow voice in reply, "not yet, at least." Ancient joints clicked and whirred back to life, as the watcher extended an arm to the young traveler, beckoning her to come near. "Come. There is something you must see through the mists."
      A soft smile upon her face, Tesslyn nodded, stumbling over the jagged stones to her mentor. Looking up at the featureless face beneath the cloak, the young traveler patiently waited for Able to speak, as its unblinking eyes flickered with thought. As the waves crashed into the rocks below, she casually brushed little droplets from her short locks, as another splash rang into the air. Without a word, she kept watching over the emaciated shade beside her, the young traveler's shimmering blue eyes made even brighter by all the endless gray.
      "There!" came Able's sudden declaration, as Tesslyn's eyes followed the now-outstretched finger to some hidden point in the sea. As the mists of morning began to part, the shadow of some great and terrible giant emerged, its body rising from the water like some armored warrior of a forgotten time. With a gasp, the young traveler reached inside a small pouch at her side, quickly retrieving a small spyglass without averting her excited gaze.
      "That's a machine, isn't it?" she asked her mentor, peering through the lens at the new discovery. "Like you and the others, only much bigger!"
      "From a time best forgotten," came Abel's sullen reply, as something much like a sigh rattled his metallic body beneath his robe. "There is a reason, my young Tesslyn, why my kind are still here, while the Giants are not. If you are to be one of the Masters of the Gear, you must learn why that is, and hold it ever dear to your heart."
      "And why is that, Able?" the young traveler asked, lowering her spyglass and turning to her mentor.
      "Why, my child, we are here to create," came a synthetic chuckle, as spindly fingers reached for Tesslyn's arm, pulling back the sleeve to reveal ornate patterns atop her mechanical prosthesis. Smiling at the gesture, she watched as Able again turned to the sea, holding her tiny hand in both its own.
      "And they," Able began, again rattling as though heaving some great sigh from within, "were meant to destroy."
      Touching her own mechanical arm, the young traveler's smile gave way to awe, as she retrieved her spyglass once more to gaze upon the giant.
      There, atop an outstretched claw of what once was a hand, a great nest of birds prepared themselves for the day ahead...

Scribble: Growth of a kind.

      Sunlight glinting off of metal latticework, the builder paused before the yet unfinished dome, still enshrouded in its steel cocoon. A fierce wind, enraged at the affront to its desolate plain, threatened to choke ancient joints and gears alike with dust from the ground. Yet, beneath a tattered cloak, the builder simply stood, a humble chuckle ringing beneath the din.
      It will take far more than that, I'm afraid, the builder thought, steadying its metal frame with an ornate iron staff. Your purpose is desolation, while mine...
      As dust settled upon the arid ground, the cocoon once more emerged from the tempest's shroud, shining all the brighter. Heavy footfalls sending dust into the air, the builder began walking toward its creation, unblinking eyes focused upon a single emblem on the dome's exposed face.
      There, carved upon a copper plaque, rose a great and powerful tree from an endless desert...

Scribble: You can blame this on "Storm Coming."

      Running atop raindrops, the sleek machine kept a single glowing eye upon the horizon, an azure star streaking across the night sky. Long, slender antennae bobbed with each footfall, as powerful legs became nothing more than a silver blur shimmering beneath the moon. Puddles exploded in the runner's wake, the comet bounding over fallen trees and stones without second thought.
      There's little time, the runner thought, leaping into the air across a small cleft in the forest floor. Hope I'm not too late...

Scribble: What's this? Continuity?

      Mechanical eyes gazed out over the horizon, the lonesome figure standing perfectly still atop a jagged, frail cliff. A fierce wind threatened to rip away the observer's tattered cloak and scarf, holding back only for the great hammer clutched within its brass and copper fist. Paying the interloper no mind, the figure continued to survey the bleak landscape below, punctuated only with earthen spires and the ghosts of mountains long past.
      No life remains, it thought, bowing its heavy, round head in concentration. No . . . life never took roost here, beyond the beast...
      Memories of a single red orb flashed across its mind, the hideous creaks of ancient joints ringing in the air. Returning to the present with a shake of its head, the figure stood in silence for but a moment, before nodding to no one.
      Then this will be our new forge, it thought, turning to the narrow, rocky path leading to the valley below. With heavy steps, the observer began its long descent, wielding the mighty hammer as a staff with each step. Catching the faintest hint of birdsong in the air, it paused, its metal body heaving something like a sigh beneath the rags.
      And perhaps, it thought again, pausing to turn its eyes skyward, life will soon follow.

Scribble: Waiting for the L...

...a new approach...

Scribble: New dawn.

      Kneeling before the rushing waters, the diminutive figure remained motionless, a slender statue of metal set upon the grass. Round, unblinking eyes gazed deeply into the creek, eagerly following the slightest movement on the riverbed, their lenses clicking and whirring all the while.
      "Keeping an eye on the fish again, are we?" chuckled a gravely, but cheerful voice, as a hunched-over man sauntered over to the water's edge. Leaning on a cane fashioned from some old colossal wrench or another, he chuckled again, running a thick, calloused hand through his whiskers.
      "Invertebrates," came the childlike reply, before the smaller figure turned to its companion, hesitant to break its watch. "I believe you call them . . . 'crawdads'? Is that correct?"
      "Ah, a regular astacologist!" the old man chuckled again, patting the smooth round dome of his companion's head. "Yes, they've been slowly making a comeback in these waters," he continued, dark eyes scanning the waters from beneath heavy wrinkles. "Ever since the generators went up long ago, everything in this region's been coming back, slowly but surely..."
      The sound of flowing waters soon overtook the conversation, as the odd pair simply searched beneath the surface, the old man's hand slipping to his charge's tiny shoulder. A single dragonfly appeared from places unknown, hovering in front of the little observer briefly, before finding a perch on the opposite bank. As its round eyes followed the creature, the small machine caught a glimpse of the windmills in the distance, dwarfing even the tallest of trees. Beyond the massive, sweeping blades, a small airship could be seen drifting over the horizon.
      "Grandfather," chirped the metallic voice once more, as unblinking eyes turned to the ancient visage, "will I ever get to see the world as it was?"
      "Mayhap," came the reply, riding upon a sigh. "If we're all so lucky as that."
      Round eyes returned to the water, immediately catching a small crayfish, walking along the sandy floor. "I hope so," the little one whispered, watching the creature saunter to a hidden friend...

Scribble: This would be more dramatic with set-up.

      Ornate metal fingers wrapped around the shaft, knuckles creaking as they tightened their grip. Trembling slightly, the brass and copper figure stood at the ready, its mechanical eyes blinking but once in their scan of the horizon. Brandishing the mighty hammer from the forge, the survivor stood as a great knight of old, lacking only the flesh beneath the armor.
      Perhaps I am all that is left, it thought, head bowing with its unseen burden, but so long as I exist, there will be others...
      In the distance, a great roar burst forth, parting the very mist and shaking the walls of the mountains. A single red orb of light shone through the sudden gap, as the clanking of poorly-fitted joints ripped through the air.
      It is time, thought the survivor, nodding its heavy, round head. Digging the treads of its feet into the ground, it quickly shifted powerful legs from a defensive stance, bounding high into the air.
      Just as rusted claws swiped madly through the fog, fierce mechanical eyes bore down on the beast, the hammer's head falling swiftly before its wielder...

Scribble: A future project, perhaps?

      Perched atop the tallest branch, the young explorer surveyed the landscape, her azure eyes looking to the mountainous horizon. An unexpected gust of wind tugged at her fiery red locks, as the sprite instinctively reached for the great trunk of her perch, the zephyr slowly fading away. Within moments, the air grew still again, allowing her attention to return to the world around her.
      "It isn't safe for you up there," rumbled a deep voice beside her, as the glint of sunlight reflected from a rusty, silver dome. Poorly hidden amidst the foliage stood an ancient machine, its open hand hovering just beneath the tallest branch, nervous eyes never straying from the young girl. "Why do you insist on doing such things?"
      Looking at the giant beside her, the sprite simply laughed, raising a single triumphant finger. "Because," she said in a cheerful voice, adjusting the goggles atop her brow, "you won't let me ride on your shoulder anymore, remember?"
      Her companion started to protest, before turning its massive head to the sky as quickly as its size would allow. As azure eyes followed the giant's lead, the silhouette of a great winged beast passed in the distance, strangely graceful for its bulk. A mischievous smile crept onto the explorer's face, as two pairs of eyes followed the flying creature to the highest peak in the distance.
      "My word," bellowed the giant, its mechanical eyes blinking in awe. "Is that what you've been looking for all this time?"
      "But of course!" she proclaimed, turning to wink at her companion. With another laugh, the explorer swooped her arms in an emphatic gesture, only to lose her footing on the branch. Without a moment's hesitation, she soon found a familiar quartet of fingers raised around her, the same metallic monoliths that had rescued her time and time again.
     "And this is why I won't let you ride on my shoulder anymore," came the matter-of-fact rumble, as eyes as large as her body glared from above.

"Distance"

      it keeps going, punching keys despite the static swirling over the screen.
      every line dead. nothing to be said of the other operators.
      with unblinking eye, it keeps typing, a breathless "no" repeating in echo...

Scribble: I miss my robots.

      Ghosts of verdant fields drifted on the wind, kicking up dust and debris in their passing. Surveying the rusted landscape, the wanderer carefully measured every step on the shifting ground underfoot, its great metal body swaying with each gust.
      Was it here? came a thought, as synthetic eyes whirred and clicked, trying in vain to pierce through the dust. If only this storm would relent...
      Within moments, the wind started to fade, as though heeding the wanderer's call for help. Dark clouds hanging over the sky slowly parted, as stray beams of sunlight pierced the dusty air. Even the restless dust settled on the ground, revealing the rusted skeletons of giants, scattered across the landscape.
      Ah! There it is! the wanderer thought, cylindrical legs clanking loudly as it ran. Just where the scanner indicated!
      Soon, the wanderer stopped before a colossal hand of steel and wires, its stubby fingers spread upon the ground. With a heave, cylindrical arms hoisted a single rusted digit into the air, before casually tossing it to one side.
      There, hiding in the small alcove beneath the palm, quivered a small family of animals, their brown fur coated in a thin layer of dust.
      "Found you!" the wanderer chirped, kneeling down beside the frightened creatures. Pulling a satchel from its shoulder, the wanderer extended a faded silver hand, as each took turns nuzzling its fingertips. "Come now," came the chirrup again, "let's get you guys somewhere safe..."