The sound of whirring. The smell of petrichor. Warm skin. Movement.

Robin jerked into wakefulness as skin brushed against her legs.  She shot up into a sitting position and her muscles groaned in protest, before dragging her back to the ground. She pressed her palms on the cold metal, hunched over the body of someone else as she assessed the injuries on her body;there were splotches of purple on her skin and her entire body ached.

[i]What happened?[/i]

She was in a clearing surrounded by forest; roots clung to the metal platform she rested on, and the rusted lantern cast an eerie purple glow on the bodies that lie around her.  That should have worried her, but they all seemed to be as injured as she.  After a cursory look over the others, she determined that they would be fine, and stood up, brushing the leaves and dirt that had collected on her body.  

The sound of whirring continued endlessly behind her, and she approached the root of the enormous tree that supported the only source of light.  She pushed aside the upper layer of wines and traced a finger on a crevice of the calloused bark.  It shone a curious white under the purple light, and seemed to pulse with life. She pressed her ears to the bark and listened; the tree was not alive.  It ticked with the likelihood of machinery and held gnarled branches without leaves.  Upon further inspection, what she thought were large leaves hanging over the platform were the shadowed bottoms of umbrella like mushrooms.

Excitement blossomed in her chest, and she knew there was no use trying to squash it.  

A small movement amongst the fungi caught her eye.  A figure was standing upon on of the mushroom heads—a young girl with silver hair.  Robin shot a glance at the people on the floor, and decided to untangle those that looked to be in particularly uncomfortable situations before sprinting up to follow the girl.