screw this I’m turning it into a writing prompt I’m tired Five Pebbles gazed at the colorful neuron that had stumbled into his chamber. How? He wasn’t quite sure, perhaps it had flown in through a small pipe? He knew that he could simply access the security footage, yet… Maybe it could remain a mystery, to stump- Maybe he should check that footage after all. Five Pebbles sighed and begrudgingly checked the camera roll. He’d been doing that a lot lately. The sighing. A sigh when Suns sent him that pearl. A sigh when he had to escort the messenger out, the thing could barely function in his chamber. A sigh when he had to scroll past the countless warnings. Even now, he sighed quite often as he waited for his salvation to fully mature. The Rot, Five Pebbles planned to name it. A bit spooky, but nothing worse than the monstrosity Suns created. ‘Spearmaster’, was it called? That thing gave him shivers every time it landed in his puppet’s chamber, bony needles clacking against the smooth, metallic, floor. Eugh. Back to the neuron. It glided around the chamber, buzzing faintly as it flashed neon green, quite the eyesore. Pebbles didn’t often look at the innards of his superstructure for a reason. The neuron flew around for a few more pitiful moments, before finding the exit and immediately escaping. There goes company. Pebbles can only hope it’s off to make the situation better in some way, or at the very least, help.
Five Pebbles gazed at the colorful neuron that had stumbled into his chamber. Yet another? He couldn’t exactly say he was surprised, given that the chamber he had oh-so-proudly paraded his puppet around in had fallen, due to disregard. Could he try and fix it? Perhaps. Did he have the mental capacity? …did he..? Pebbles sighed. He used to do that a lot, before he realized how good Past Pebbles had it. Impatient and impulsive, he hadn’t even bothered to imagine how much worse it could be. Couldn’t even be bothered to make sure nothing went wrong. Couldn’t be bothered to even try. Pebbles didn’t expect yet another slimy one to crawl into his chamber, even less so that it had a Mark Of Communication. The little things—slugcats, as he remembered figuring out what The Citizen was— had proven him wrong yet again. You could call it karma, because he certainly didn’t want to. The wording was too similar to the Great Problem. The neuron [conveniently, he could add] buzzed, jolting Pebbles out of his thoughts. Flying around for a few more pitiful moments, it buzzed out of his chamber as soon as it found the exit, as if desperate. There goes company. Pebbles can only hope it’s off to make his situation better in some way, or at the very least, help.
