Work Text:
It was their second night as stowaways when she noticed it. The quiet creaking of strained wood, like a well loved ship bobbing on the waves, like an old home that'd raised many families settling on its foundation. It was a soft, comforting sound.
A sound a ship like The Orbit was too young to be making.
Sora's hand rested on her sleeping son's shoulder, and she felt his little chest rise and fall.
Sanji, her little Sanji, was breathing. With no true lungs to fill, his little wooden body strained from the effort, protesting quietly in an unbroken rhythm.
She couldn't help but feel proud. He really was a perfect little mimic, copying human behavior even in his sleep. He'd been working so hard on it too. She'd watched him practice in mirrors, making sure his face was just right, that he blinked often enough.
“You'll be perfect.” She told him “Once we make it to land, you'll be perfect. You'll make friends your age, and we'll be happy.”
They were getting further from the Red Line every day, deeper into the East Blue. Far far away from Germa, and that terrible man. They were safe now.
“I promise”