Inktober #11: Snow

This was always the part he enjoyed most.

The snow falling.

Most of the time there wasn't much to look at down here, besides the rest of the refuse. His speech circuits had failed, oh, however long ago. Dave still told him stories sometimes, if it had been a sunny day and there was enough energy for it. But for the most part, there was just the resting, and the silence. He imagined that it would drive his former human friends insane.

But for Lariot, it was just...existence. He could postulate about how long he had been here, how long he would last until the circuits degraded and his core depleted. Poor Dave would last longer with those solar panels. Though Lariot had to wonder if Dave would even know when he was gone.

It was by no means boring, just meditative. Even so, when the snow came...that was a joy. You could feel it among those left in this heap. If they could move, they would be dancing in it, making angels. Or maybe even just doing as Lariot had no choice but to do now: to stare up in wonder. To look up at the sky, the ships, the city overhead...and watch the snow fall.