forum “Armaggedon: The Sequel? That’s a nah.” // group rp // CLOSED

Started August 18, 2023 by @spacebluelily language

tune

(Amn sleepy, sorry if response is ✨inaccurate✨)

GLaDOS woke up in a… very unfamiliar place. She was laying down on the ground, which was strange, since she never lays down. The air here was significantly warmer - and fresher - than the facility’s stale, recycled air. The ground was also much softer. It was grass and dirt, instead of concrete.

She slowly opened her eyes, letting them adjust to the sunlight before looking around.

She’d visited the surface, so none of this was new to her. And anything she hadn’t seen before, she merely skimmed over. Now wasn’t the time for curiosity, although she had plenty of questions floating about in her head.

The android quickly stood up, picking blades of grass out of her hair. She noticed a small figure, not very far away from her, that seemed unconscious. She tilted her head and approached the figure, and soon saw that it wasn’t human.

The little girl looked like one of those creatures from human stories… she’d forgotten what they were called, but she knew that an identifying feature of those creatures was those long, pointed ears, which she could see poking through the child’s short, messy hair. The girl was wearing a dark purple cloak, which was draped over her almost like a blanket, obscuring most of her body, save for her head and one of her arms.

GLaDOS crouched down next to the little creature, lightly poking her. When she didn’t get a response, she simply assumed the child was dead. She shrugged and stood back up. Now how am I going to get out of here?

Sandra jolted upright, breathing hard. What just happened?
She looked around, fighting the fog in her mind to try and get her bearings.
She looked down at the grass she was sitting on. It was… wrong. Not the same grass that grew in her village.
The trees were too thickly clumped, and too tall. She’d never seen that flower before in her life, and that was saying something.
It became abundantly clear that she was no longer in the village Newart, or anywhere in Chasan for that matter.
She pushed herself to her feet, and the lack of a familiar weight against her back sent panic spiking through her. She reached around, trying to see.
Her bow and quiver were gone. She’d left them in her room that morning- she hardly ever left her gear behind.
She cursed her careless lack of diligence and looked around. Alright, she’d been talking with Owen, then she headed towards home and saw an unusual looking plant, and then… nothing.
Sandra spotted a long, thick stick, so she picked it up, both for walking and use as a weapon, if need be. Her confusion and curiousity at an all time high for this week, she set off walking.
what in the blazes is going on?

On the grassy forest floor lay two indistinct figures, dappled in the shadows of the canopy above.

A breeze flitted between the trees, scattering the light and illuminating the bright blonde hair of one of the unconscious men. His face was slack, only a triangle of pale skin visible beyond the curtain of his bangs. One single, spiral eyebrow stood proudly above his closed eye.

A bird fluttered to the ground, hopping closer to the blonde. The man's eyelid twitched once, then slowly parted to reveal a deep blue, sleep-clouded eye. It focused on the bird as it advanced, hopping onto his arm. It shoved its beak closer to his hand and then—

"SHITTY BIRD, I'M NOT DEAD!" Sanji lurched into a sitting position, drawing his hand back to himself with an absolutely murderous aura about him. The crow shrieked and fled into the air, and the chef was half-tempted to leap after it for pecking him. A dozen other birds took to the skies at the sudden shout, and Sanjit tsked to himself.

He let his shoulders drop, then, and surveyed the area. 'Where am I?' His gaze landed on the swordsman a few feet away and his features twisted into a scowl. "Oi, Marimo. How long are you planning to nap?" When there was no answer, Sanji pushed himself to his feet and placed his hands on either side of his hips, leaning back into a stretch that produced a few pops from his back. Then he kicked the side of Zoro's head, causing him to spring up in pursuit of a counterattack that Sanji easily parried with the sole of his dress shoe.

Zoro growled, then seemed to realize where they were—or rather, where there weren't. He relaxed his stance, lowering his swords and gazing around the trees warily. "What happened? Where's the Sunny?"

There was a quiet snick as Sanji flicked his lighter open, holding the flame to the end of his cigarette. He fitted the stick between his teeth and took a long draught of the smoke, then released it in an equally long, drawn-out breath. "I don't know," he eventually said, unease creeping into his expression. "A devil fruit user, maybe?" The thought that Nami could have had anything to do with their sudden passing out didn't even cross his mind. Neither, did it seem, cross the swordsman's.

"I didn't see anyone, though," he continued. "This could be the island we planned to restock at, but…" He paused, absentmindedly straightening his tie. "I don't smell the sea. Wherever we are, it's far from the Sunny."

Zoro shot a glare at him. "How you can smell anything over all that smoke is a wonder."

The chef bristled and clamped his cigarette between his teeth. "How I can smell anything over you is the real wonder."

The swordsman took a step towards him, raising one of his swords in a surefire sign he was about to swing it at him—when a snap of a twig alerted both of them. They froze, automatically shifting stances to work in tandem. Nothing happened for several seconds, and Sanji sensed nothing with his haki, so he relaxed.

Squabble forgotten, Sanji wandered a few steps away and examined the trees in further detail. "Wherever we are, we need to find our way back to the others. I hear running water off this way," he gestured with a tilt of his head. "If we follow it, maybe we can find a town or village."

Zoro grunted unintelligibly and started off in the opposite direction. The chef let out a long-suffering sigh and grabbed his haramaki, then began to drag him the correct way, muttering under his breath about a "directionally challenged, lost-child bastard".