(You don't have to ask to join. The only requirement is your character has to lose something very important for him during the crash - something that makes his life 100 times harder.)
Life is series of crashes and collisions; small or big, they change the ones that were affected. Sometimes, these changes are positive, and sometimes negative - whichever it is, it always leaves a mark. It is these marks that make us who we are.
Later on, Sheila wondered why she hadn't reacted to Pertahu's consistent tapping.
Maybe it was because of how tired she was; maybe it was because the jolting in the train caused everything to poke or tap her; maybe it was because she had been so immersed in her little scrap pile. Whatever it was, Sheila had ignored Pertahu's constant attempts to get her attention. Now, she wished she had listened.
In her mind, she could still feel how the train suddenly seemed to jump up in the air, before returning to the earth, thuddering across uneven terrain. Another jump, one more, and after the last, fell to it's side, starting to roll, gaining speed. At one moment, Sheila had been hit in the head and all went black.
It was all coming back to her. The de-railing, the tumble down the hill... And then waking up here, on her back and staring up at an eerily clear blue sky for the event that had occured.
She tensed her muscles to sit up, and instantly gave a groan. She was all bruised, she could feel it now. Possibly she had a few broken bones... But she had to sit up.
Wincing, she got herself up to a sitting position, and looked around with wide eyes. Judging by her position, the broken glass around her and that the train lay another thiry meters down the hill, she had crashed through a window. Maybe that was the hard thing that hit her head. She frowned in thought. She was no mastermind, but it didn't seem right for her to crash through a window of a rolling train and survive. Unless she had been forced out of it by a different source of energy.
Like...
Pertahu! She suddenly panicked, looking around her. Her robot companion and translator was nowhere to be seen. She looked down at the train wreck, and her heart dropped. In that pile of wagons all in chaos, it was hard to imagine Pertahu could survive. Yes, she had made him to be sturdy - but that wouldn't have saved him under the weight of fifty-or-so tons crashing down on him.
But she had to try and look for him. She had to. And so she got up slowly, weak and in pain, scratched and bruised, and started limping down towards the trainwreck.
It was a good thing her wagon had been one of the last of the fifteen wagons attached, she thought. The flames from the actual train, the motor, wouldn't have reached their wagon... So even if Pertsahu didn't survive... At least his parts might have done so.
Life is series of crashes and collisions; small or big, they change the ones that were affected. Sometimes, these changes are positive, and sometimes negative - whichever it is, it always leaves a mark. It is these marks that make us who we are.
Later on, Sheila wondered why she hadn't reacted to Pertahu's consistent tapping.
Maybe it was because of how tired she was; maybe it was because the jolting in the train caused everything to poke or tap her; maybe it was because she had been so immersed in her little scrap pile. Whatever it was, Sheila had ignored Pertahu's constant attempts to get her attention. Now, she wished she had listened.
In her mind, she could still feel how the train suddenly seemed to jump up in the air, before returning to the earth, thuddering across uneven terrain. Another jump, one more, and after the last, fell to it's side, starting to roll, gaining speed. At one moment, Sheila had been hit in the head and all went black.
It was all coming back to her. The de-railing, the tumble down the hill... And then waking up here, on her back and staring up at an eerily clear blue sky for the event that had occured.
She tensed her muscles to sit up, and instantly gave a groan. She was all bruised, she could feel it now. Possibly she had a few broken bones... But she had to sit up.
Wincing, she got herself up to a sitting position, and looked around with wide eyes. Judging by her position, the broken glass around her and that the train lay another thiry meters down the hill, she had crashed through a window. Maybe that was the hard thing that hit her head. She frowned in thought. She was no mastermind, but it didn't seem right for her to crash through a window of a rolling train and survive. Unless she had been forced out of it by a different source of energy.
Like...
Pertahu! She suddenly panicked, looking around her. Her robot companion and translator was nowhere to be seen. She looked down at the train wreck, and her heart dropped. In that pile of wagons all in chaos, it was hard to imagine Pertahu could survive. Yes, she had made him to be sturdy - but that wouldn't have saved him under the weight of fifty-or-so tons crashing down on him.
But she had to try and look for him. She had to. And so she got up slowly, weak and in pain, scratched and bruised, and started limping down towards the trainwreck.
It was a good thing her wagon had been one of the last of the fifteen wagons attached, she thought. The flames from the actual train, the motor, wouldn't have reached their wagon... So even if Pertsahu didn't survive... At least his parts might have done so.
Maybe it was the throbbing pain in her right side, or maybe it was the veil of red that covered everything that tipped Liz off. Maybe it was the fact that it was burning hot outside even though it was the dead of winter. Whatever it was, Liz knew something was wrong the moment her eyes opened and she found herself on the ground. Why do I hurt so badly? She wondered inwardly, not trusting herself enough to speak. From her focal point she couldn't see much, just a bunch of metal and odly shaped lumps on the ground in various positions. God, were those bodies?
Casting around in her memories, Liz tried to find the moment before she had passed out. When the train flipped. God how could I have been so stupid, why did I try to follow him. She moaned to herself, remembering how she had landed in this position.
Liz was a soldier in the army, and she had been dispatched to an area where a series of rebellions had broken out. The place was a major trade central for the city, so they needed the rebellions to stop immediately. Liz had been able to get a decent spot in one of the middle cars, and a compartment almost all to herself. There was only one other guy in the compartment, an older dude with a scarf tied around his mouth and a cloak around his shoulder. She hadn't tried to make conversation, but it wouldn't have made a difference if she had. When the train started ascending the hill, the man got up and moved into the hall. Curious as to what he was doing, Liz had followed. Now she wish she hadn't. When the train hit the top of the hill, it flipped. Liz was thrown back into her compartment, her head hitting the edge of the bag shelf. That was what knocked her unconscious, and that was probably what had saved her life.
Liz groaned, realizing that when she had hit her head she had also probably been thrown out the window. But unluckly, the train had followed her. Looking down at her right arm and leg, she could see the raw nerve endings where the train had ripped her right limbs off. Of course, they had only been mechanical replacements. She had lost her right limbs a while ago in the bomb that had killed her parents. Reaching up, Liz wiped her forehead and wasn't surprised when it came back red. I need to get away from this train before it explodes. Her numb mind pushed that one thought through, sending Liz into a desperate attempt to move.
(Tried to match the length)
Casting around in her memories, Liz tried to find the moment before she had passed out. When the train flipped. God how could I have been so stupid, why did I try to follow him. She moaned to herself, remembering how she had landed in this position.
Liz was a soldier in the army, and she had been dispatched to an area where a series of rebellions had broken out. The place was a major trade central for the city, so they needed the rebellions to stop immediately. Liz had been able to get a decent spot in one of the middle cars, and a compartment almost all to herself. There was only one other guy in the compartment, an older dude with a scarf tied around his mouth and a cloak around his shoulder. She hadn't tried to make conversation, but it wouldn't have made a difference if she had. When the train started ascending the hill, the man got up and moved into the hall. Curious as to what he was doing, Liz had followed. Now she wish she hadn't. When the train hit the top of the hill, it flipped. Liz was thrown back into her compartment, her head hitting the edge of the bag shelf. That was what knocked her unconscious, and that was probably what had saved her life.
Liz groaned, realizing that when she had hit her head she had also probably been thrown out the window. But unluckly, the train had followed her. Looking down at her right arm and leg, she could see the raw nerve endings where the train had ripped her right limbs off. Of course, they had only been mechanical replacements. She had lost her right limbs a while ago in the bomb that had killed her parents. Reaching up, Liz wiped her forehead and wasn't surprised when it came back red. I need to get away from this train before it explodes. Her numb mind pushed that one thought through, sending Liz into a desperate attempt to move.
(Tried to match the length)
(You didn't have to... Write as much as you feel comfortable with 
)
One step. Two steps. Three steps.
Ignore the pain.
Four steps. Five steps. Six steps.
Ignore the pain.
Seven step. Eight steps...
It was all Sheila could do to count her steps, focusing on moving ahead, to not think of everything inside her screaming for her to stop. Pertahu. She had to find Pertahu. Even just his arm. Just a finger... Something, anything, that she could use to rebuild him. So at least a tiny part of the old him would be contained in the new robot she'd make.
Was there any sense in making a new robot? A new translator? Maybe it was best just to creat some cam or something that would transalte spoken words into written words, and her sign language into speech. Something without a face, without a body. Something she couldn't get attached to. Since what if the same tragedy happens again? What if she'd lose the new Pertahu all over again?
Then I'll just rebuild him again, she thought stubbornly. Over and over and over... No matter how many times. No matter how often. No matter for how long. She won't let go of her friend. Even if Pertahu didn't feel, she did. And she felt she wouldn't have managed to live without him by her side.
Just then, she noticed movement out of the corner of her eye. She stopped, panting a bit from the extertion on her weakened body, and looked in the direction towards the middle of the train wreck. She narrowed her eyes in that direction. Was it only the flames playing tricks on her?...
But there it was again! It must ben a survivor.
And suddenly, Sheila had a dilemma. Should she go on to find Pertahu's parts... Or go help the survivor?
On the contrary, it took her focused mind quite a while to come to the decision. Pertahu.... I'm sorry, she thought to herself. You have to wait...
Robot parts won't die. A robot can always be rebuilt. A life can't. Focusing on her new target, Sheila started slowly making her way to the survivor.
)One step. Two steps. Three steps.
Ignore the pain.
Four steps. Five steps. Six steps.
Ignore the pain.
Seven step. Eight steps...
It was all Sheila could do to count her steps, focusing on moving ahead, to not think of everything inside her screaming for her to stop. Pertahu. She had to find Pertahu. Even just his arm. Just a finger... Something, anything, that she could use to rebuild him. So at least a tiny part of the old him would be contained in the new robot she'd make.
Was there any sense in making a new robot? A new translator? Maybe it was best just to creat some cam or something that would transalte spoken words into written words, and her sign language into speech. Something without a face, without a body. Something she couldn't get attached to. Since what if the same tragedy happens again? What if she'd lose the new Pertahu all over again?
Then I'll just rebuild him again, she thought stubbornly. Over and over and over... No matter how many times. No matter how often. No matter for how long. She won't let go of her friend. Even if Pertahu didn't feel, she did. And she felt she wouldn't have managed to live without him by her side.
Just then, she noticed movement out of the corner of her eye. She stopped, panting a bit from the extertion on her weakened body, and looked in the direction towards the middle of the train wreck. She narrowed her eyes in that direction. Was it only the flames playing tricks on her?...
But there it was again! It must ben a survivor.
And suddenly, Sheila had a dilemma. Should she go on to find Pertahu's parts... Or go help the survivor?
On the contrary, it took her focused mind quite a while to come to the decision. Pertahu.... I'm sorry, she thought to herself. You have to wait...
Robot parts won't die. A robot can always be rebuilt. A life can't. Focusing on her new target, Sheila started slowly making her way to the survivor.
Using her right knee as leverage, Liz began her agonizing crawl forward. Inch by inch. It hurt to move, and Liz had to stop every couple seconds to catch her breath. This isn't going to work. She had barely moved a foot from where she had originally been in ten minutes time. The sun was hot on her skin as Liz rested her aching limbs, laying on her back to glare up at the striking blue sky. How could the sky be so blue after an event like this, it should be mourning the loss of all that died. It should show the smoke from the crash in it's blue depths, but it didn't. All Liz could see was endless blue, not even a cloud in sight.
Having gotten a little sidetracked, Liz turned back over on her belly and got ready to move. Something moved in her peripheral vision and it wasn't the flames from the engine or first carriages. It was a figure moving towards the last cabin, it's movements choppy and seemingly in pain. Before she could revert her gaze back to the task at hand, the figure changed course and started heading towards her. Now whether the figure was going to help or harm, she didn't know. But the outcome couldn't be much worse than the predicament she was in now. No arm or leg, laying on the dry dusty ground waiting to die. What had become of her?
Gritting her teeth, Liz started moving towards the figure. Centimeter by centimeter, inch by inch. She hoped the figure saw that she was tying to meet them half way. Whether they were good or bad, she honestly didn't care anymore.
Having gotten a little sidetracked, Liz turned back over on her belly and got ready to move. Something moved in her peripheral vision and it wasn't the flames from the engine or first carriages. It was a figure moving towards the last cabin, it's movements choppy and seemingly in pain. Before she could revert her gaze back to the task at hand, the figure changed course and started heading towards her. Now whether the figure was going to help or harm, she didn't know. But the outcome couldn't be much worse than the predicament she was in now. No arm or leg, laying on the dry dusty ground waiting to die. What had become of her?
Gritting her teeth, Liz started moving towards the figure. Centimeter by centimeter, inch by inch. She hoped the figure saw that she was tying to meet them half way. Whether they were good or bad, she honestly didn't care anymore.
(Ignore this post.)
Yes, the person was definitely moving.
Sheila felt like yelling to her that she's on her way - that if it's too hard, he or she shouldn't move. Sheila will be there soon. But even if she yelled - it would be a wordless yell - one that could only bring fear instead of hope.
She wanted to run. Oh, how she wanted to run. But even that was impossible. with all her sides screaming for attention, moving forward was already a challenge.
But she had to try. Gritting her teeth, she picked up the pace, wincing as the pain increased.
This wasn't bad, she told herself. There was worse pain. Maybe remembering that past would make this easier.
She remembered a time back when she was sixteen and in her family's farm - before she earned enough money to give them a life they earned to have. Before she even made Pertahu - actually, that was the time when she was trying to figure out how to make him.
Back then, she was playing with the wires when she accidentally touched an open, plugged wire. The current ran straight through her, paralyzing her to the spot, filling her insides with red-hot pain. She screamed and her mother ran in to remove the wire and treat her. The aftermath of her accident stayed for another two days, when she found it hard to move at all.
Just remembering the event made her insides hurt. Oh great... Now not only her outside was hurting. Maybe that was a bad idea after all.
Sighing painfully, she noticed she was almost by the figure by now. Thanks to her piqued eyesight due to her lack of hearing, she could already make out the person's problem - she (for it was a she) didn't have an arm. Nor a leg. Her eyes widened in shock. The train accident caused that?...
She had to help her, quick, before she bled to death. But just as she was thinking that, she came closer, and noticed wires and metal in the place where blood should be gushing out. She instantly felt relief. Just replacements... She pitied the girl for lack of limbs, but at least she wouldn't bleed to death on her.
Crouching by her side painfully, she reached out her arms, showing she wished to help her - if only she wanted the help.
Sheila felt like yelling to her that she's on her way - that if it's too hard, he or she shouldn't move. Sheila will be there soon. But even if she yelled - it would be a wordless yell - one that could only bring fear instead of hope.
She wanted to run. Oh, how she wanted to run. But even that was impossible. with all her sides screaming for attention, moving forward was already a challenge.
But she had to try. Gritting her teeth, she picked up the pace, wincing as the pain increased.
This wasn't bad, she told herself. There was worse pain. Maybe remembering that past would make this easier.
She remembered a time back when she was sixteen and in her family's farm - before she earned enough money to give them a life they earned to have. Before she even made Pertahu - actually, that was the time when she was trying to figure out how to make him.
Back then, she was playing with the wires when she accidentally touched an open, plugged wire. The current ran straight through her, paralyzing her to the spot, filling her insides with red-hot pain. She screamed and her mother ran in to remove the wire and treat her. The aftermath of her accident stayed for another two days, when she found it hard to move at all.
Just remembering the event made her insides hurt. Oh great... Now not only her outside was hurting. Maybe that was a bad idea after all.
Sighing painfully, she noticed she was almost by the figure by now. Thanks to her piqued eyesight due to her lack of hearing, she could already make out the person's problem - she (for it was a she) didn't have an arm. Nor a leg. Her eyes widened in shock. The train accident caused that?...
She had to help her, quick, before she bled to death. But just as she was thinking that, she came closer, and noticed wires and metal in the place where blood should be gushing out. She instantly felt relief. Just replacements... She pitied the girl for lack of limbs, but at least she wouldn't bleed to death on her.
Crouching by her side painfully, she reached out her arms, showing she wished to help her - if only she wanted the help.
Pants becoming shredded and dirty, Liz continued to slowly move towards the figure. And the figure was moving towards her as well. Why was everything spinning though? Focus. Liz commanded herself, trying not to bring up one of the worst moments in her life. She didn't want to relive the last moments of her parents lives, but the memories were creeping up because of how similar the situations were.
She had just turned 14 and was finally allowed to join the military, the recruitment age being lower to account for the high casualty rate. They lived in one of the worst cities to be a soldier, where you got no respect for wearing the uniform. All you got was trouble. But none of this mattered to Liz, she wanted to help people no matter how tough it may seem. It was just part of her personality.
Her parents were taking her and her sister to the base today for two reasons; to recruit Elizabeth into the military, and to get her sister, Lucy, some asthma medicine. The base was built against a large cliff, impossible to drop into from above without being seen. The only way in was supposed to be through the front gate, but the base wasn't built flawlessly. As soon as they got to the main gate of the base, gunshots could be heard firing wildly. Liz's parents looked at each other and then at their kids, making a decision that turned out to be futile.
"Take your sister and hide by the large oak down the road." Her mother had commanded her, taking her gun from his holster on her thigh. Her father did the same while Liz stood open mouthed at them, forgetting her place for a moment. "But Mom-" The look in her mother's eyes stopped her short though, filled with worry and sadness. Turning on her heel, Liz took her sister's hand and leg her over to the tree.
"Stay here." She told her sister, running back to the front gate. By the time she reached it though, all was quiet. Too quiet. Glancing around in frustration, Liz started to shoulder her way through the front gate. Before she could open it wide enough for her to get through, an explosion went off in the main courtyard. It was the door that saved her life, but not her limbs. It was sturdy enough to throw her back and away from the explosion, but not save her right side.
The memories came back in a flash, making her head hurt even more. She hadn't noticed that the figure had quickened their pace until they were crouched beside Liz, and then she noticed that the figure was a girl. Sucking up her pride, Liz looked up at the girl. "P-P-Please h-h-help." She stuttered, the ripped nerves in her right side causing her to start to go into shock.
She had just turned 14 and was finally allowed to join the military, the recruitment age being lower to account for the high casualty rate. They lived in one of the worst cities to be a soldier, where you got no respect for wearing the uniform. All you got was trouble. But none of this mattered to Liz, she wanted to help people no matter how tough it may seem. It was just part of her personality.
Her parents were taking her and her sister to the base today for two reasons; to recruit Elizabeth into the military, and to get her sister, Lucy, some asthma medicine. The base was built against a large cliff, impossible to drop into from above without being seen. The only way in was supposed to be through the front gate, but the base wasn't built flawlessly. As soon as they got to the main gate of the base, gunshots could be heard firing wildly. Liz's parents looked at each other and then at their kids, making a decision that turned out to be futile.
"Take your sister and hide by the large oak down the road." Her mother had commanded her, taking her gun from his holster on her thigh. Her father did the same while Liz stood open mouthed at them, forgetting her place for a moment. "But Mom-" The look in her mother's eyes stopped her short though, filled with worry and sadness. Turning on her heel, Liz took her sister's hand and leg her over to the tree.
"Stay here." She told her sister, running back to the front gate. By the time she reached it though, all was quiet. Too quiet. Glancing around in frustration, Liz started to shoulder her way through the front gate. Before she could open it wide enough for her to get through, an explosion went off in the main courtyard. It was the door that saved her life, but not her limbs. It was sturdy enough to throw her back and away from the explosion, but not save her right side.
The memories came back in a flash, making her head hurt even more. She hadn't noticed that the figure had quickened their pace until they were crouched beside Liz, and then she noticed that the figure was a girl. Sucking up her pride, Liz looked up at the girl. "P-P-Please h-h-help." She stuttered, the ripped nerves in her right side causing her to start to go into shock.
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