I know I'm posting this kind of early but I'll be busy all weekend so i wanted to get it out!!
My take on what Tristan's life was like before he met with Quincy, his own life of undelightment you might say...
AO3
Tristan couldn't believe it. His whole class, gone! Off on an important field trip without him.
He paced around the shared dorms, now missing the clanking and chattering of his peers. They had laughed away his complaints just hours before, scampering onto the school's aging ship.
"You can join us next time," they said, unsuccessfully hiding their sneers, "after you've trained a little more."
It didn't make any sense. He always had the top scores in most of their classes. Tactics, mechanics, charting and navigation, even shipkeeping; he'd mastered them all. Tristan grumbled, steam hastily spouting out of his pipes, as he plodded over to his bunk, impatiently grasping for something underneath it. He grabbed his personal pistol, hidden securely so no other bot could break it, and set out to the shooting range. Surely they'd be back soon, and he just had to prove himself in the meantime. Then, he could go on a field trip too, and it will be awesome!
A day passed, and then another, and then another, a whole week flying by.
Tristan was waiting at the dock, letting the trickling rain drip down his face. Today was when his classmates were meant to return with whatever spoils they rustled up. And so he waited, and waited, and waited. He waited until the clouds passed by, and the searing sun dipped under the horizon. Tristan had dropped into the sand, uncaring of how much of the fine grains would wriggle into his joints. Only the gentle lapping of the cold sea greeted him that day.
Schedule was important, Tristan had decided. Since they were all adrift, no doubt late from some crazy adventure (that he would go on one day), it was up to him to keep the base spick and span.
Currently, he was oiling and shining all that he could see. Everything was working perfectly, cogs ticking in synchrony. He had spent the entire day taking apart and fixing the entire school, until it was running smoother than ever before. Not one mistake could be made, no avenue of criticism could be left vulnerable, it all had to be perfect for when they returned.
The next day, he took stock of supplies. Stocktaking soothed his nerves, falling back into a familiar rhythm of organising and scribbling notes. As expected, they had enough water to last months, especially with only one bot around. He tried not to think about being alone that long.
Another day, he was at the firing range. It wasn't that he usually avoided it, but it was normally the most popular hang out spot, so he was often just hesitant. Today it was eerily quiet though, an uncomfortable reminder of his current situation.
The targets whirled around their programmed tracks, ducking and weaving behind hole-peppered cover. Tristan steadied himself, steeling himself for the kickback, and emptied his clip. The bullets screeched through the air, but only one hit its target with a crunch. Despite this, Tristan whooped and cheered.
"I'm totally amazing!"
Without anyone there to cajole or snicker at his performance, he managed to come more often.
Within a week, he hit bullseye every time.
It was thundering the day Tristan decided to leave, rain lashing down on him, dripping down his chassis and into his boots. Although he couldn't feel it, he was sure the wind was biting, almost bowling him over. The trained sailor in him told him to wait, that weather would be fairer tomorrow, but Tristan knew if he stayed another day in that place, all alone, he wouldn't make it to tomorrow. Wherever his class was, he had to go find them himself. Being alone was a burden, one he was ill-equipped to deal with. The school's emergency dinghy would get him to the nearest bar; then he'd figure it out from there.
A low fog settled around the wreck as Tristan approached, shards of metal sticking out of the shoreline, forming an ominous landscape.
Gossip from the bar had informed Tristan that a 'great rabble' of young robots like him had sailed in this direction, and the proof lay in front of him. The hull was damaged heavily, torpedo holes spattering the steel plates; looking more akin to tissue paper than any metal. It really should have been all the conformation Tristan needed, but a sense of morbid curiosity compelled him to push further.
Entering the wreck was easy, docking nearby and wriggling into a crack, the metal creaking and groaning under the slight strain. Instinct told Tristan it wouldn't hold for long, but he ignored the small gnawing sense of anxiety to push forward. I mean who else could say they explored an abandoned wreck? It was totally awesome.
The first signs of his classmates were found in the corridors, a couple limbs scattered about. Tristan kicked a wayward arm to the side, pushing through to the bridge. No worry crossed his mind at any of the carnage, until he stepped in the room.
It was a massacre. Gears and bolts were strewn across the floor, engines ripped out of chassis, heads separated from bodies and water gently gushing from smashed boilers. Spread across the recognisable chaos was…bones? He didn't know what to make of that. Clear signs of a battle littered the area, and Tristan shuffled around mindlessly to collect the leftover ammo, kneeling over the chassis of his former teacher. He could recognise every scrapped part that surrounded him, distorted and damaged as some of them were.
It was clear there was no saving them. Not even the most skilled of doctors could reassemble them, even if all their parts were still even here. Strangely, Tristan wasn't filled with any sense of grief, but neither did he feel a sick sense of joy. He felt numb, like someone had emptied his boiler, leaving a dry gaping hole inside.
Maybe, Tristan thought impassively, If I had been here, I would have destroyed everyone!
This thought energised him, snapping him back to his new reality, and he scrambled back towards his dinghy. Clearly, if they had just brought him, none of this would happened.
There was no school anymore, all Tristan could do was find a new crew to hitch himself to and make sure this didn't happen again.
Nothing’s wrong here nope. Totally not the wrong card game or anything!
(If I had a nickel for every time I drew SteamWorld characters playing UNO, I'd have two nickels. Which isn't a lot, but it's weird that it happened twice!)
This is unfortunately the last one I'm going to be doing for now as in addition to a looming feeling of art burnout, some important stuff suddenly came up. I put the deets (including what to expect from me in the near future) under the cut if you're interested.
I'm going to be participating in Febuwhump this year on a side AO3 account I created solely for an unrelated piece of media (iykyk but if you do want the deets feel free to dm me lol) and I'm gonna need the time
Which I will actually have because starting next week, I'm gonna be getting a nice long leave from uni for a bit
I also need to work on some very pressing IRL stuff that I've needed to work on for forever (cough learning how to drive cough) so this break is very much needed for various reasons LMAO
I've actually been wanting to do a username change and I've been slowly chipping away on the logistics for that. I already selected what I have in mind; I just gotta work on the hard stuff for it now like. actually making the change. and doing a writeup I guess lol
