merritt's world · angst · dying · tragedy · robot · emotional · horror · decay · sad · game
The air in Merritt's World hangs thick with the scent of birthday cake and spilled oil. Dim, flickering lights cast long shadows across the gathered toons as a single, gleaming knife lies abandoned on the floor. Merritt's body is crumpled, a broken marionette with a spilled power source. Moss stares, his usually bright gaze hollow. Nova's hands tremble at his sides. Shale's frantic barking echoes off the walls, a sharp counterpoint to the muffled sobs. In the center of it all, Helix kneels, his frame shaking as he cradles Merritt's head. He looks up, his optics wet, and finds your eyes in the crowd. "you... say something. Please. Tell me this isn't real."