Kwite huffed, holding his head in his hands.
That was it, huh?
All of my furniture, my books, my memories- even my reputation. Just burnt to the ground and spit on, just like that.
The Hoodmaster's daughter was never Kwite's favorite. She was worshipped by all of the people in the village, whether it be her looks, or her voice, or the way her long fabrics swayed in the breeze exposed behind her. Hell, nobody even knew her name, and they all praised her for taking a single step on the fucking dirt.
Of course they did. The Hood were blind followers, eating up every single lie or whisper the Masters parted their lips with.
Kwite came from a long line of 'sinners' as the Hood called them, their family was the family that didn't believe anything the Masters stood for. Ever.
It started with the crowning of the first Master, thousands of years ago. The first Master was, ironically, the first Hood to be born with a naturally white, silky fabric, (despite having the genes of an average Hood.) So, instead of thinking it was some sort of new mutation, or some type of undiscovered new gene, they decided it meant that the silky white Hoodling was an offspring of a Goddess instead.
Thus, dubbing the pale, sparkling Hoods the Hoodmasters.
Their mother always told him that 'Your great-great-great-great hoodmother did so much research, explored every nook and cranny of every book in this exact village, ventured out into the forests and their surroundings, yet never found an explanation for this strange Hoodling's white fabrics.'
Maybe, way back then, the 'Unspoken Forest' wasn't unspoken, and it was just like every other forest on earth. It was just scary, and the Hood just so happened to set up a village next to it. That was entirely their faults.
Anyways, their fourth great hoodmother tried to explain to the villagers that this was likely not a sign from a supposed 'God,' and it was some sort of albinism in the Hood. Spoiler: Nobody believed her.
And nobody would ever give her words a second thought.
'It's been that way for years,' his mother would say. 'If they didn't believe your wise great-great-great-great hoodmother, they'll be blind for their entire lives.'
They couldn't imagine sacrificing their entire life and free will too a supposed 'God' just because some kid was born on a certain day, in a certain way.
(Wait...)
His train of thought was cut off when they were met with a sudden sound, a sound that broke through the passive nature of the forest's chirps and cries. This was a weirder sound, a mechanical, generational sound. This sound wasn't natural.
It sounded loud. But in an odd, quiet way.
He arose from the fallen tree he was once 'sitting' on, looking around for any visible disturbances. None.
They felt it's eyes on him, though.
He called out for it, "Hello?" without any sort of response. The green Hood wandered forward, examining bushes or shrubbery that could perhaps hide this unspecified creature, but was simply met with absolutely nothing. Other than a horde of small bugs and animal shit. "Hello," they called again, slowly looking around, "is anyone there?"
Nothing.
The forest's once calming, almost tiring silence was now terrifying, and made Kwite want to shit himself. Right then and there.
This was no time for shitting, though, they needed to find this thing that he still knew, deep in his gut, was still staring at them. Almost mocking him, perhaps? Whatever this eerie feeling was, they hated it with his entire Hood soul.
They continued to hover around and wander, paying close attention to the smaller details of the ground. From the shuffling grass in the wind, to the leaves falling and drifting gracefully from the treetops. His ears listening to all of the new sounds. Everything felt so much louder, so much mysterious, just within a few squeals from behind the trees.
Perhaps it was a lost cau-
There.
Right there.
The silhouette of a strange figure, peering from the shadows of the tall dark oaks. Looking straight at them.
He ran at it, yelling and forming fists in they once open palms as a sign of instinct, when he realized,
It's just a stupid raccoon.
An awfully big one too, the size of Kwite's own torso.
They sighed, somewhat disappointed it didn't lead him on a proper, fanfiction-worthy adventure, which would surely end with the green Hood being happy with the love of his life, perhaps living in a cottage in this very forest.
But it was just a raccoon.
Their shades curved sadly as he slid his hands in their pockets, relaxing his tense muscles and instead relaxing their fingers to rest properly. He turned, and instead with being greeted by the path he'd been following moments ago, he was met with a massive figure, and then, they passed out.
____________________________________________
Strange hoodie thing. Why is it floating?
Do sweatshirts usually hover ominously?
What was it doing in this place anyway? Didn't it have a home somewhere else?
Are there more floating articles of clothing around?
Springtrap squinted, watching the green hoodie man with sunglasses from afar. His large mechanical fingers gripped the bark of the massive tree from pure anxiety, or pure curiosity. Perhaps a mixture of both.
He watched as it continued to... float around, looking into bushes or behind trees.
Curse me and my massive feet.
I have to do something about this thing- if it finds me I could be killed. Or worse. Who knew what it was capable of?
____________________________________________
Okay, maybe hitting it with your massive fucking robot arms was a horrible idea. Now it's on the ground, probably bleeding, (if it even has blood,) and it's all your fault. Fuck.
Springtrap knelt down and grabbed the strange entity by it's shoulders, propping it up against the base of a tree and looking at it, up and down, every last little detail of this hovering fabric man-thing.
It had the face of a human, but it was covered up by a mask and sunglasses. Assuming it was bald, a massive hood covered the top of it's head and most of it's already covered face. It also probably had a minor concussion.
There goes that potential interaction.
The robo-rabbit stood up, sighing and rubbing the bridge of his nose, (or snout,) in slight annoyance.
Think. Before. You. Act.
He gave the floating clothing-man-thing a worried glance before turning and retreating deeper into the woods. Hopefully it would forget what Spring looked like, and he could run far away enough to never have to do this again.