gorgeous folks from an amazing fanfic by @silversilence14!
I've been wanting to draw something with them for so so long and finally! honestly COTTFO is the best thing ever, my absolute favorite work in the fandom, so go read and give it some love~
A small scene I’ve had in mind for a while, from my personal fan concept of @silversilence14 ‘s COTTFO Series.
For extra context, the “kidnapper/wastelander” is Radar
Aiden doesn’t follow like he’s supposed to. Feet firm on the ground, shoulders squared, he stays put, glaring at their kidnapper. (It’s jarring just how short the armored wastelander is once they’re actually on the ground. Aiden could beat them in close combat, no doubt. At the same time, they’re clearly the type to play dirty.)
“Fuck this. Why should we follow him?”
Cave drafts grow colder. Wind brushes against the side of the mountain like a giant serpent, singing distantly in the entrance behind them.
Petra is slow to respond. “Well... let’s look at our options: One is a frozen cliffside of despair, the other is a mysterious dark path. Which one seems marginally better?”
She has a point.
If the stranger wanted them dead, they probably would be dead already, or be in the process of freezing. Unless-
“What if they’re cannibals?”
“We don’t even-”
Finally, finally, their silent ‘guardian’ makes a sound. They scoff, glancing over their shoulder to glare at the accusation.
The elation Aiden feels in that moment may just be a bit too much considering their situation, he’s had a rough day, dammit. He steps forward to pump Petra’s shoulder. “Hey, hear that? The pipsqueak’s got squeak!”
As Aiden was hoping, that gets their kidnapper to turn around fully. They march right back up to the other wastelanders, growling frustratingly. They point down the pathway again, motioning to start walking.
Aiden smiles just a bit more at the fact that they have to look up at him.
“Come on, let’s just go. They’re not hurting us.”
“No, but I think they want to.” Aiden doesn’t break his smirk or his gaze, locked onto the dusky dark eyes that are gradually filling with animosity.
The next sound that the wastelander makes is more of a grumbly whine than anything else. Their shoulders slump with exhaustion, and it’s clear that they share feelings with Petra. Can we go already?
Unfortunately for them, Aiden doesn’t know when to stop. Isn’t stalling beneficial for stuff like this? Maybe the wastelander is trying to take them to some timed ritual, and if they run out the clock, he and Petra will have time to make an escape plan and act it out, or steal the bird, or find something even more powerful than the transmitter, or-
Or their kidnapper is just gonna kill them if Aiden keeps this up. Their slender fingers hover over a sheath, filled with a short slender blade.
“Alright, alright” Aiden raises his hands placatingly, to the apparent relief of their kidnapper. “I’ll go. You’ve got a funny way of telling us to do that, though.”
Mutes aren’t unheard of, but ones that Aiden’s met don’t even bother with growling or shouting. This one is different. Expressiveness lends the wastelander charisma, though, Aiden can give them that at least.
Still.
Aiden always has to say something. The silence as they walk is too heavy, their steps on eons-old limestone too unnerving and lulling all at once.
“Why don’t you talk?”
Petra flinches. If she weren’t facing forward, Aiden knows he’d be getting a glare that says “Oh, why don’t they talk? Why do YOU have a metal arm?”
It might not have been PAMA, but a lot of wounds in this world come down to something similar: Bad people. Monsters. Even then, other reasons wouldn’t be so odd. Feral children are rare, but known. Maybe it’s because of some kind oath to honor a new tradition.
No matter the reason, it’s personal.
The strange wastelander, maybe not so much a stranger anymore, stops in their tracks. A beat passes. Their shoulders slump with a defeated sigh, and they look down at the ground.
“Ignore him.” Petra tries to salvage the wreck that’s only just beginning, but it’s too late for that.
The wastelander shakes their head as they turn, insistent on answering a question that goes far deeper than a lack of words. Armored fingers meet the teeth of their helm’s upper jaw, and the bone helmet is carefully removed. Three wastelanders stare each other down, a new face to look at.
Cold rushes up Aiden’s spine as he recognizes the person as a kid.
Not a kid kid- Radiation and malnourishment has a funny way of changing people in this world. Stunting them, especially without “help” from PAMA or other powerful tools. He’s short, scrawny, and his complexion certainly isn’t without signs of stress… Still, Aiden estimates that he’s anywhere between fifteen and twenty-something. The wasteland forces you to grow up fast.
The wastelander, seemingly male, gives a merciful amount of time for his “guests” to soak in that bit of information. Then, he motions for Aiden to come closer. Petra follows the order herself.
Aiden takes one step forward. The wastelander motions again.
(He’d better not be planning to stab Aiden in the gut for asking, but maybe he would have it coming)
Aiden only stops when he’s roughly a foot away, just as Petra is. They exchange a cautious glance. The wastelander makes no motion to attack, though perhaps what he does next is weirder.
He opens his mouth, index finger pushing down on his bottom-front teeth to keep his jaw comfortably widened.
It almost makes Aiden withdrawl, but he stays put. “Uh…”
Aiden didn’t think it was possible for someone to look pleading and annoyed at the same time, but here they are.
“...I think he wants you to look in his mouth?” Petra’s already nudging Aiden over to the side before he can make some quip about lacking any proper dental experience. She looks in first, genuinely curious but then- “What’s ...Oh. OH.”
Petra gets a lot quieter.
“You, uh.. Aiden, just look.” She absently tugs Aiden by his arm back into place, doing as he’s told.
At first, nothing about this wastelander’s maw seems out of the ordinary. At worst, some dark marks on his teeth, but Aiden realizes that something is missing.
There’s no tongue. At the most, a small lump of muscle far back, but nothing more.
Aiden makes some small noise, half a hum, which the wastelander mirrors as he closes his mouth. None of them are quite sure what to say. Whatever did that, it better not have been PAMA.
There are a million complications to the loss of any parts, Aiden knows it, but losing taste and reliable communication?
It’s a dangerous mixed bag.
“That’s rough.”
The wastelander nods in what seems to be agreement. Unexpectedly, he reaches for Aiden.
“Uh- Well, it’s nice to meet you-”
Rather than the handshake Aiden expects, the wastelander pushed up his sleeve, revealing the cool metal underneath. Curiously, the wastelander stares, cocking his head to the side as Aiden hesitantly allows him to toy with his metal fingers. Tapping produces the tiniest ping, ping noise, which seems to surprise him.
Petra, in the meantime, laughs.
Aiden supposes a tongue for an arm is fair.
Curiosity satisfied, the wastelander pulls Aiden’s sleeve back down. He nods, pats down at the cloth in what seems to be some form of encouragement, and finally continues down the cave path.
Just like a few minutes before, Aiden and Petra are left staring between themselves and their captor as the cave’s soft moss light seems to brighten.
