A sigh.
So despondent in nature and in tone, but it seemed to fit the desolate surroundings that the simple sound echoed through. Another. The source of the melancholy sound seemed to be a rather down-in-the-dumps figure, perched on a spool of thread and looking about his meager surroundings through a single optic eye. 5's demeanor was not normally one of such sadness, though he often worried or fretted, he was usually more positive than this. He slid from his seat and stepped to the edge of the desk he was watching from, looking around the self proclaimed 'throne room' that 1 used. He looked around, he could see 1 in the chair at the far back, with 8 close by, they were always there, 8's job was to protect all of them, but 1 used him more as a body guard to himself, it was selfish, it angered 5, but what could he do against the leader, he gave them safety, if you could call it that. The engineer sighed defeated, he was too much a coward himself to stand up to 1.
His gaze moved from the pair to the little artist, his mind taking on a new train of thought and leaving behind his dark pondering, 6 was siting off on his own, had 5 been on the ground, the artist would be hidden from view, scrawling away in a feverish manner at the paper in front of him, it was quite a sight, watching the stitchpunk draw in an almost desperate manner, like his life depended on the ink and paper. He had seen 6 there so many times, drawing the same thing, and wondered if he ever wished to do something different, he'd never carried out a conversation with the recluse, not many had, except maybe 2, the only one who seemed to see sense in the manic artist. That wasn't totally true, 5 saw sense, he knew there had to be more to his art than simple obsession, why else would he draw it so many times, it covered his walls, scattered around other drawing of the monsters they'd fought and other gruesome scenes. But nothing of substantial beauty, the art was beautiful in itself, but it was mostly chaotic and un-controlled, 5 pondered what it would look like if the artist tried to draw with color and control, though he kind of liked his formless style.
5 didn't realize he was being spoken to until a small pebble clacked against his head, he jumped horribly and nearly lost his balance, looking down to see a very perturbed 1 standing in the center of the room below, scowling at him, "Y-yes sir?" He stuttered out in a nervous voice, the leader glared malice at the one-eyed doll, "Instead of daydreaming, 5, why don't you make yourself useful and go out and scout." His voice was like a low growl, proof he was angry. The one-eyed doll chose not to argue, not that he ever would, he nodded obediently,"Of course, y-yes sir..." He turned and started away, then heard 1's voice as it faded, he was speaking to 8 as the left the room, he came back to the edge and looked over, seeing 6 still there by himself, he didn't seem to notice that he'd been left more or less alone. A smile played on the engineer's lips, he started to climb down by the thick string that he'd put there for the very purpose.
He dropped to the ground after a long climb and panted a little, looking around and spotting the artist's little nook where he always stayed. He was almost afraid of how 6 would react, he'd never shown violence before, but, as 1 said, fear was a strong force, so he approached with caution. The little artist didn't seem to hear him walking twords him, or he heard but was too lost in his mind to notice. 5 watched him for a moment, scrawling away with what looked like so much passion for what he was doing, he always seemed so engrossed, 5 often wondered what made him the way he was. He shook his head to escape his pondering and felt the sudden sense of being watched, he looked ahead and jumped when he realized 6 was staring directly at him, how long had he been watching him? He tried to smile, though it was lopsided and nervous, "Oh...Uh..6.." The artist continued to stare at him, or was he staring through him, he could never tell one from the other, he wasn't even sure if he was acknowledging what 5 was saying, but he went on anyway, "I need to go..Out...And 2 is..busy, I need an extra set of hands. Would you come with me?" He stood there feeling awkward under the crooked gaze of the manic painter, but finally he spoke, "Him. 1. Is he?" He looked back nervously, "Can't go.." 5 shook his head and knelt beside him, "1 wont find out, don't worry I'll..I'll keep you safe.." Another long moment of those mismatched eyes staring at him before he spoke again, "Yes. Then..I'll go." The fear was evident in the striped doll's voice.
5 smiled as he led the hesitant one outside, he had his cross bow in the pack held around his back, he'd promised 6 he'd keep him safe, and he planned on doing just that. He looked around the desolate, crumbled area, feeling 6 pressed close and shivering, the artist never left much, and 5 began to wonder if bringing him was a good idea. 6 caught him looking and immediately straightened up, as if trying to put on a show of bravado, though from his it still looked pretty nonthreatening, 5 had to admire the little guy's attempt. He patted his back and smiled, "It's alright..I..I'll keep you safe, 6." He tried to sound confident, though he felt nothing of the sort, he wasn't much for fighting, but if it came to that, he would. He took the artist's hand and led him on, feeling the reluctance in the way he pulled back every now and then. Again 5 felt the doubt, that this idea could be a bad one, that he could be leading them both to their deaths, he cringed at the thought of death, the one thing the doll feared more than any injury or pain. He looked at 6 and flashed him a warm smile, which was returned with a reluctantly cheerful one, he was afraid.
6 had felt uneasy since they left, it wasn't fear of the outside that made the striped stitchpunk feel this way, it was the feeling rising in him that something terrible was coming, he pulled back and stopped at every sound he heard, or thought he heard. The feeling was not unlike the feelings he got when a vision took him, strange and foreign, and yet he couldn't place the source of the feelings. They disturbed him none the less. He would normally be apt to explore with 5, he loved being around 5, he never treated him like he was different, like 1 or 8 did. But the feeling of disaster was making the doll queasy, and he knew 5 could tell by the way the older doll kept looking back at him with concern. He was glad for it, knowing that he was cared for, he knew 5 would protect them.
5 couldn't repress the panic beginning to rise in him slowly, he felt as if he'd seen this scenery before. He tried to deny it, kept on telling himself it wasn't true, bu somewhere in his subconscious he knew. He'd gotten them lost.