A/N: Once again, if you'd like this story to continue past [z], please let me know.
Of Spare Parts (and their echoes)
[w]ound
They come across a field of corpses with little warning; carnage lays before them, the scent of oil and death permeating.
9S inhales sharply. 2B, much more used to the sight of destruction, carries onwards- until she finds red hair, stark amidst darkness. "Devola? Popola?"
The twins had fallen side by side.
They're silent. "We can't keep doing this," 9S says at last.
"What do you mean? What are we supposed to do?"
Pod 153 reports quietly, "It was customary to bury the dead in many human cultures."
9S doesn't comment on how he already knew that.
9S and 2B spend the remaining night digging, carving stones, laying flowers, to commemorate the fiery red, once so vibrant.
And then, they bury everyone else, too.