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Chapter Text

Joel

     Joel had told Etho that something was up. He had told Etho that this was not right, that this was not normal. Etho had not listened though, too full of pride to accept help.

     Etho, before he had joined the server, had a…unique past. He was kidnapped by some strange organization, then used as a human puppet as a test for a new training method. They had embedded hooks all over Etho’s body, most of which still remained, from which they controlled him. And, while they were long behind Etho, he had begun to have dreams of someone completely different controlling him and putting in more hooks. Joel had told Etho that that was not good or normal, but Etho insisted it was fine. Just bad dreams, even though Etho complained about the pain as if it were real.

     That Joel had paid more attention, this could have been avoided, but no. 

Etho

    Etho startled awake, a scream dying on his lips. All of his hooks hurt. His entire body shook with adrenaline.

     He glanced at his comm to check the time. 4:57 am. There was no way he was getting any more sleep today, not with the fear coursing rampant through him. He pulled himself out of bed, changing out of his pajamas and grabbing a loaf of bread for breakfast.

     He drank enough tea so he could pretend his shaking fingers were because of the caffeine, as had become his custom the past week or so. 

    By now, normally the phantom pains on his hooks had gone away by now. However, a spot on the lower left side of his ribcage stung like hellfire. It was a place he knew for a fact there had never been a hook, removed or otherwise. 

     Yet, when Etho took off his jacket and pulled up his shirt to check, one was there. How, how, how. Then, he remembered, in his dream, ‘dream,’ last night, the strange void-like creature that had been haunting him had tried to attach a new hook to his body. Shit, those aren't dreams. Oh devs, I need to find someone, he thought to himself, throwing elytra on and swinging his front door open to leave.

     Something hit him in the neck, soaking through his mask.

     “No, I don't think you're leaving,” a voice said softly from the side he had been hit on. It had the same voice that danced through his memories from the night. 

Gem

     The last week had been hazy for Gem. For a few hours, she would build her base normally, hangout with other hermits, live as always, then she would wake up six hours later in a pile of hay, covered in blood, in the middle of Grian's wheat field.

      She was fine. She was normal. This was normal hermit behavior, waking up in random places with no recollection of the last several hours, positivity exhausted, covered in someone else's blood, with excessive amounts of string. 

     This was fine.

     Yup.

     Totally fine.

     It was not like she was terrified about what she might have done or what was happening to her or why she kept doing this. 

     She's Gem. And Gem is great!

Etho

     Etho was trying to see a face through his hazy vision, but what little features he could see just made him even more confused. The - person? Thing? Being? - had long, crooked antlers with points that looked sharper than daggers. They had long shadowy limbs, bright yellow eyes, and a long, ragged, ripped black cloak scattered with bloodstains flowed down their back. What was strangest to Etho, however, was that  their face seemed to be made of void. Not just blank space, but void, like it went on forever with no end or ground.

      What the….

     "You are coming with me," the being said, and that was the last thing Etho heard before the thing took his conscience away.

***

     Etho blinked his eyes open, his mind foggy from whatever the being had hit him with. He didn't feel any of his weight on his feet; in fact, he didn't feel most of his weight at all.

     He snapped fully into conscience almost immediately and felt that he was strung onto something. Most of his weight was in his shoulders and upper torso, but he felt the pain everywhere.

      No! his mind screamed immediately. I'm strung up again. They're going to make me dance. They're going to give me the commands again. 

     Maybe this is just a dream, he tried to tell himself. You can't possibly be back there. 

     But there's another hook on my chest that I know wasn't there before. This is not a dream. This is real.  

     "You have returned," the thing said. It walked in front of Etho, not making a sound as it stepped across the floor.

     Etho opened his mouth to speak and found that his mask was no longer on his face. He snapped his mouth shut and turned his head away, though he could barely move through the strings. 

     "I have already seen your face," the thing said, mock pity in its voice. "Your hideous, sickening face."

     Etho felt like he was being kicked. As if being strung up wasn't punishment enough.

     "You can not get help," the thing mocked him. "Nobody is coming for you."

     "Who are you?" Etho demanded, surprisingly strongly. "What are you?" The thing didn't respond, only chuckled.

     "I'll be back," it whispered. It turned its back on Etho and climbed up a ladder, closing the trapdoor behind it.

Chapter Text

Gem pov

     Gem was starting to worry.

     This time, she woke up about ten feet underwater. Blood - hers? Somebody else's? - stained the water around her, turning her vision dark and red. She was still able to breathe, thanks to the nearby conduit, but with every breath she tasted iron. For once, though, there weren't any drowned nearby.

     Gem swam to the surface, though she was hardly able to tell which way was up through all of the blood. She swam to the shore, taking a moment on the beach to catch her breath.

      What is happening to me? she thought with an edge of panic.

     "Gem!" she heard someone - Grian - call. "Want to come fishi- why is there blood in the water?" He landed on the beach beside her, looking thoroughly confused.

     "I…don't know," Gem answered. "I don't know what's happening."

     "Are you hurt?" Grian asked with concern, helping Gem to her feet.

     "I don't…think so," Gem said, confusion taking over her mind. "Why is there blood everywhere?"

     "This wasn't you?" Grian asked. "I thought you were just killing drowned again. Do you know who this was? And whose blood is this?"

     "I don't know," Gem repeated. "I don't remember anything."

     "You don't remember?" Grian echoed. "What was the last thing you remember?"

     "Building that house over there," she said, pointing to the house she'd decided would be the anthropologist's, "and helping you with your ink farm."

     "Gem, that was seven hours ago," Grian said, his very obvious concern growing. "Do you seriously not remember anything after that?" Gem shook her head helplessly.

     "If this happens again, we need to tell X," Grian said strictly.

     "This, um, isn't the first time," Gem admitted reluctantly. "It's happened twice before. The first time, I woke up in that boat over there, and the second time it was in your wheat field, and I was covered in blood that wasn't my own."

     “That's why Mumbo liked that batch of bread,” Grian muttered to himself before continuing, “Why didn't you tell anybody?"

     Gem shrugged awkwardly. "I don't know. I suppose weirder things happen all the time, so I didn't think that this was that big of a deal."

     "No, Gem, that's not normal!" Grian exclaimed. "We need to go tell X right now."

     "No, don't," Gem said hurriedly. "I'm fine." Quieter, she added, "Beside, he doesn't know how I work."

     “What do you mean?”

     She waved her hand vaguely, “It's a long story.”

     She barely had an idea of what was happening to her between the last things she remembered and whenever she woke up, so there was no way for her to know what was causing it. 

     Grian was silent for a moment before deciding, "Somebody needs to stay with you, or at least check on you regularly. Who visits you the most often?"

     "You and Etho," Gem responded.

     "Etho?" Grian exclaimed. "When was the last time he came to visit you?"

     "Two days ago, from what I remember," Gem responded. "Why?"

     "He went missing," Grian informed her. "He hasn't responded to any of our messages, and nobody has seen him for the past few days. There's no leave message from him, so he's not gone to the hub. No one knows where he is, and we're all getting worried. It sounds like you were the last one to see him. Where was he the last time you saw him?"

     "In front of my lighthouse," Gem told him. "He'd just come for a friendly visit, so we were just chatting. The next thing I remember after that is waking up in my boat."

     "Is there any chance he's still in your base?" Grian asked. 

     "I don't know why he would stay around here, especially for two days," Gem said. "And he wasn't here after I woke up."

     "Well, that leads us straight to a dead end," Grian muttered. "Maybe this is just an Etho thing. He's done this before."

     "Maybe," Gem said, though there was a hint of doubt in her voice that she couldn't shake off. After a moment, she asked, "Would it be ok if you stayed with me, at least until the next time this happens? I need someone to tell me what's happening to me."

     "Yes, of course," Grian said. "I can stay with you. I live right next to you, anyway, so if I need to do something then I'm not far away. Does that sound okay?"

     "Yes, thank you," Gem said gratefully. "I need to know what's happening…to…." Gem trailed off suddenly, though she wasn't sure why. Her eyes started to go out of focus, but no matter how many times she blinked she couldn't focus or keep her eyes looking straight.

     "Gem?" Grian asked. His voice sounded distant. What's happening? "Gem?"

Grian pov

     Gem wasn't responding. Her eyes seemed distant, and her face was so many different expressions.

     "Gem?" he asked more cautiously. Slowly, Gem turned her head to look at him, her eyes completely distant and looking straight through him. She mumbled something completely indistinct and turned her back on Grian. She walked in a crooked, wobbly line towards one of the houses.

     Her form started to change.

     With every step she took, she seemed to grow taller. Her antlers grew taller and sharper. A long black-and-red robe began to spread down her back. 

      What…

     Gem stopped and, slowly, she turned around to face Grian. Her face was void, the kind that is hungry, angry. Not the calm of the void in the sky, but the starving depths that seemed to devour him.

     "You cannot follow," she said, her voice completely cool and calm. She walked so she was standing in front of Grian. He couldn't bring himself to move. Now, Gem was about half a foot taller than him.

     With eerie coordination, Gem reached her hand out and gently touched Grian's forehead.

     Immediately, he felt his balance leave him. His eyes went out of focus, and there was such a loud ringing in his ears that he wanted to tear them off. He collapsed to his knees, and then completely onto the ground. 

     His mind went dizzy and unfocused. The only thing he could bring himself to do was weakly look up at Gem before he felt his head fall, and he passed out cold.

Chapter Text

Scar pov

     "There's more shades of green than lime green!" Scar complained to X as they flew to Grian's base. "All they ever sell for green wheelchairs is lime green! There's more than that in the world! All I want is a grass green wheelchair- "

     X shushed Scar suddenly and dove down. Scar was about to ask why until he spotted Grian lying on the ground.

     Scar and X approached him and saw that his eyes were open lazily, gazing up at the sky. He was muttering to himself words that made no sense whatsoever, completely overlapping each other.

     "I dunno man, I like teeth," he started, the words barely distinct. "They're great for guessing games. The last time I played a guessing game was on a mountain. I breathe better on mountains. There was a thunderstorm. Lightning is not teeth friendly. What if the sky has teeth? I think it does." He kept rambling on to himself, talking about teeth and fluffy bees and gravity and devs-only-know what else.

     "Grian?" Scar asked cautiously.

     "Huh?" Grian mumbled, barely turning his head to look at Scar. "Oh, hello. What do you think of tornadoes?"

     "Grian, snap out of it," X demanded harshly. "I don't know what's happened to you, but snap out of it."

     Instead of answering, or even paying attention, Grian looked Scar in the eye and asked, "Do you have more teeth than the apple I had this morning?"

     "Um. I…don't know?" Scar answered awkwardly. He was about to start counting when X interrupted him. 

     "Grian, wake up ," X said again. He leaned down and, without hesitation, slapped Grian hard across the face.

     Grian's facial expression changed immediately, looking confused and panicked. He rushed to his feet, stabilizing himself before he fell over again.

     "What just happened to you?" X demanded again. "Why were you laying on Gem's beach staring at the sky and rambling about teeth?"

     "I'm sorry," Grian apologized anxiously. "Where's the demon deer?" 

     X reached to slap him again before Grian said in a hurry, "No, no, I'm not just rambling! Please don't slap me again. I'm thinking again. Properly. There was a demon deer. Where did it go?"

     "There's nothing here," Scar told him. "You're hallucinating."

     "No, please, believe me," Grian begged. "I know I wasn't thinking straight, and I know I sound crazy, but I'm not lying to you. I am not hallucinating. There was a demon deer. That's the only thing I remember. Please don't slap me."

     X lowered his hand, still looking skeptical, and asked, "What exactly did you see?"

     "I'm not really sure," Grian admitted. "From what I remember, there was someone- some thing - with very strange deer antlers that looked absolutely huge. Their face was void, and they had very long legs."

     "Where did they go?" X asked. 

     "There?" Grian tried, his voice doubtful. He pointed to one of the nearby houses, his hand shaking. 

     "Let's start there," X decided. 

     "Wait," Scar interrupted. "I still need to know what happened to you. Why are you here?"

     "I don't know," Grian said. "Like I said, the last thing I remember is the deer thing, and that's it. I don't know what happened after that. I'm sorry."

     "It's okay. It's not your fault," Scar told him. "Are you hurt? Do you need help?"

     Grian shook his head. "No, I don't think so."

     "Okay, then," X decided. "Let's go find a demon deer."

Xisuma pov

     X led the three of them to the house that Grian had pointed to. Every few steps, he would stop, look around, and continue. 

     He pushed open the door cautiously, looking around to check for any threat before motioning for the others to come in.

     "Let's stay together," X said, "just in case."

     Grian and Scar nodded, and the group began to inspect the house. What they had found was unsettling. The interior didn't suggest much, but there were several jars scattered throughout with various parts in them - eyes, hands, even a heart. X didn't want to think of who they belonged to. 

      Why would Gem build this? he wondered. She can be scary, but…nothing like this.  

    "What's this?" Scar asked, waving Grian and X over to him. He was pointing at a trapdoor on the floor.

     "I don't know," X said. "I'm going in first. If anything happens, I'll yell for you. If not, I'll come back out, or come get you." Scar nodded, looking anxious.

      X opened the trapdoor slowly, climbing down the ladder that only led down about ten feet.

     He reached the ground, turned around, and immediately saw who - what - Grian had been talking about.

     It stood in the middle of the floor in front of a large glass tube mounted against the wall. Its antlers were sharper than X had thought they'd be, and the bloodstains on its cloak suggested that it’d seen violence plenty of times before. X stretched his neck to see who or what was in the tube the deer thing was inspecting.

      Etho.

     "What are you doing to Etho?" X demanded.

     The thing whipped around and its gaze was nearly as unsettling as being Watched. X held his ground.

     "How have you come here?" it asked, its voice cold.

     "What are you doing to Etho?" X repeated.

     "Is that its name?" it said, sounding amused. "Finally, a way to label this." It grabbed something off the floor which X recognized as a very poorly put together sign and wrote in jagged letters, "SUBJECT: Etho."

     As it moved, X could see Etho more clearly than he could before. He could see now that he was strung up by several strings on all of his limbs, plus his chest, back, and face. Though there wasn't much expression on his face, what little X could see was desperate, pained.

     X took a cautious step closer, then another. Has it noticed me, or is it just waiting?

     "I know you are there," it said, answering his question. "One step forward and you're dead."

     "Let. Him. Go," X demanded.

     The deer thing laughed once, loudly. "Even if you do manage to free it, it will not come with you."

     "And how do you know that?" X asked.

     Grinning, it turned its face towards Etho and said, "Still. "

     X immediately saw Etho completely stop moving. His face was frozen in fear and pain, and none of his limbs were moving.

     "What did you just do to him?" X demanded coldly.

     It shrugged, not answering his question. Instead, it began walking towards him. 

     "Scar!" X yelled before it could reach him.

Scar pov

     As soon as he heard X's call, he scrambled down the ladder and turned to see a giant thing approaching X.

     "Get someone!" X told him. "Now!"

     Not waiting a moment, Scar hit the first contact which was Joel, typed in his name, his own coordinates, and "now" as fast as he could into his comm. A moment later, he heard the comm buzz with a message from Joel:

<SmallishBeans> but im eating a sandwich

<GoodTimeWithScar> NOW JOEL

<SmallishBeans> omw

     The deer thing took a step closer to X and Scar stepped forward. He didn't know what he could do against it, but it was better than X alone.

     Scar heard Grian come down the ladder and he stepped beside Scar. He spread his wings, trying to look more intimidating.

     The thing raised one of its eyebrows, looking rather amused. "I am… very scared." It took another step forward and then another until it was right in front of Xisuma.

     X raised his hands as if to Weave, but the deer just reached its hand out and tapped him on the head. He collapsed onto the ground in a heap, not even putting up a fight. 

     Scar looked down to X and opened his mouth to say something, but he cut himself off, looking back up at the deer with new hatred in its eyes.

     "You are going to regret what you just did," Scar said darkly, bracing himself for a fight.

     The thing smiled, so calmly that Scar nearly wanted to turn and run.

     "I am, am I?" it said, tilting its head curiously. "My dear child, I do not feel regret." Scar pulled back his fist to punch it, but before he could, he felt it touch his forehead gently, and his vision began to grow dizzy. He fought to stay conscious, forcing his legs not to collapse beneath him.

     "You…cannot…hurt me," Scar barely said, his mind fighting against him, "and you will not hurt Grian." The deer raised its eyebrows again and, out of pure spite, reached over and touched Grian's forehead. Grian stumbled for a moment before he too passed out, falling to the floor.

     "Oh, I will," it said with a smile.

     That was the last thing Scar heard before he couldn't hold onto his mind anymore, and he fell away.

Chapter Text

Joel pov

     Joel landed right next to the coordinates that Scar had sent and found himself at a house. He walked around the base of it until he found the front door. He pushed it open.

     There was nothing out of the ordinary about the interior that he noticed immediately. He shrugged and walked to one of the walls, which was only a few blocks away from the coordinates Scar had sent. He saw a trapdoor in the floor and lifted it open.

     He climbed down the ladder and was greeted by three unconscious bodies, one demon deer, and one Etho in a tube.

      What in the bloody devs….

     The thing that looked like a human with deer antlers turned to look at him, and its void gaze made Joel feel the most uncomfortable he had in a long time.

     "Have you come for this?" it asked, waving its hand at Etho, who was strung to the ceiling of the tube, completely unmoving.

     "I've come for all of them," Joel said. "I don't know who or what you are, but you have no right to be doing this to anybody."

     "You don't know who I am?" it asked with surprise. "Perhaps not. Would you like to know?" Joel stared at it silently.

     It began to change. Its antlers receded until they were only about a quarter the size they were before. Its skin changed color, and its cloak completely disappeared. The void on its face slowly receded until it was completely gone. The thing shrank about half a foot until it was about eye level with Joel, maybe even a bit shorter. 

     Standing in front of Joel was Gem. 

     A new level of fury rose up inside Joel. 

     "What have you done? " he shouted. "What are you going to do with these three? Why have you strung up Etho?"

     Gem blinked several times and looked blankly up at Joel. 

     "You know exactly what you've done!" Joel exclaimed. "Why would you do this? I thought you were our friend! Why, Gem?" He clenched his fist and screamed, " WHY‽ "

     Gem flinched, her eyes becoming more clear. She looked down at the floor, at the unconscious bodies of X, Scar, and Grian, and gasped.

     "Don't act surprised!" Joel shouted. "This was you, all you! "

     "M- me?" Gem asked quietly.

     "Stop pretending!" Joel yelled. He was shaking now. "I didn't think you'd ever do something like this, but here we are! When X has recovered, I'll be sure that he bans you!"

     Gem's eyes widened. "N- no, Joel, wait, I-"

     "I don't care what you have to say!" Joel screamed. He hadn't even realized that he was crying, making his words shaky and uneven. "I don't care! I don't know what you've done, but you do, and I'm sure you're happy about it! I don't know if these three will wake up, or if they're hurt, or if you're going to hurt them! I don't know what you've made Etho do, or if you have any plans! Have you given him any new commands?"

     "Commands?" Gem echoed. "No. What? Joel, please, listen to me. I don't know-"

     "Yes. You. Do! " Joel exclaimed. "You know what you've done. You've betrayed us. You've knocked out, maybe even killed , these three, and you've made Etho relive this!" Joel took a deep, sobbing breath and finished, "You don't deserve to be here."

     Gem looked positively terrified. She should be, Joel thought furiously. She doesn't deserve to be here. She knows exactly what she's done.  

     "Get Etho out of there. Now, " Joel threatened. Still looking terrified, Gem walked over to the tube Etho was strung up in and pressed a few buttons on the side. A moment later, the glass slid open.

     Immediately, Joel ran over and began untying the strings. Gem watched silently as he untied the final one.

     Etho didn't move at all.

     "What did you tell him?" Joel demanded.

     "I don't know," Gem said, and it almost sounded like begging. "I don't know what's happened."

     "I'm sure you don't," Joel snapped. Joel looked up at Etho.

     "Release, Etho," he told him. Immediately, Etho went limp and lost his footing. He tripped over his own feet, and Joel had to catch him before he fell completely.

     "It's okay, Etho," Joel told him. "You're okay. I won't let her string you up again, I promise." Joel noticed that Etho didn't have his mask on. There was a single wire tying his upper and lower lip together. Etho was shaking terribly, but otherwise seemed unaware of his surroundings.

     Joel hugged him, telling him, "You're okay. I found you. I'm going to help you. You're okay now. I'll make sure that Gem is…properly treated." Etho didn't hug him back, remaining unresponsive and seemingly unaware of his situation.

     "I'm so, so, so sorry," Gem said quietly. "I don't know what I've done."

     "Get those three awake," Joel commanded her. "Or have you killed them?"

     "No, I-" Gem cut herself off and sighed.

      What's that for? Joel wondered. She's probably just upset that I caught her. Gem knelt in front of Grian and tried to shake him awake. Joel scoffed.

     To Joel's surprise, however, Grian blinked his eyes open and looked up at Gem.

     "Where- where are we?" he asked, looking around. He pushed himself up to a sitting position. 

     "That is a good question," Gem said.

     Grian looked at Gem again and, after a moment, he gasped, his eyes widening.

     "It was you," he said. "You- you're the deer. The demon deer."

     "The- what?" Gem asked.

     "Stop lying," Joel threatened, pulling back from hugging Etho.

     "Wait, Joel," Grian said. "No, she's not. She doesn't remember."

     "What do you mean?" Joel snapped.

     "Gem, what's the last thing you remember?" Grian asked Gem.

     "Talking to you on the beach," Gem answered. "I remember there was so much blood in the water, and I didn't know whose it was. I don't know if it was me or not."

     Grian turned to face Joel. "See?" he said. "She doesn't know what's happened."

     "How do you know she's telling the truth?" Joel asked.

     "Because I was there," Grian defended her. "She wouldn't lie to me, or you, or anyone. She's telling the truth, Joel."

     Joel's expression began to soften. Does she actually not know what she did? Was I shouting at her for something she doesn't know she's done?

     "Is that true, Gem?" he asked her, lowering his voice from the furious shouting it had been before. Gem nodded, still looking absolutely terrified.

     "Get the others awake, then," Joel told her and Grian. Questions later.  

     Gem woke X and Grian woke Scar. They both sounded rather disoriented, but after a few moments they collected themselves.

     "What just happened?" Scar asked before grabbing his head and wincing in pain.

     "What's wrong?" Grian asked him anxiously.

     "Concussion, I think," Scar answered. "Nothing too bad, I-" Scar cut himself off and clutched his head even tighter.

Chapter Text

Scar pov

     All at once, everything that everybody in the room was feeling hit him. 

     It was the strongest off of Etho.

     Scar clutched his head in pain, feeling so many different things at once. He felt Etho's pain, his terror, his fear, his anxiety, his confusion, his horror. His emotions were so thorough and so strong that Scar felt as if he was in Etho's body. He knew exactly where all of the pain was coming from.

     From the others came confusion, fury, pain, sadness, guilt. From himself, he didn't even know, there were so many others.

     "Scar?" Grian asked again with concern.

     Scar's headache was rising, so much to the point that he couldn't think straight and all that he could feel was Etho's pain, both physical and mental. Scar tried to ask for help, to tell someone to get him out of there, but his brain wouldn't let him speak clearly. He needed to get out now if he was going to be able to help any of them later.

     Scar tried to pull himself to his feet, but his mind was so focused on the pain that he couldn't focus on anything else. He fell, hardly able to catch himself.

     "Someone get help!" Grian shouted. "Cleo or Stress. Someone who knows medicine."

      Answer, Scar told himself. Only way out is that you answer.

     "Me," Scar said suddenly. "Go."

     "No, you need to stay here," Grian told him sternly.

     "Let me go!" Scar said, and it sounded like he was begging. He looked at Grian with unintentional desperation.

     Grian seemed to notice this and nodded reluctantly.

     "Fine," he said, "but I'm coming with you."

     Scar nodded gratefully, and Grian helped him stand. He could still feel Etho's pain, and being touched was not particularly helping with that, but at least he could walk.

     Grian helped him up the ladder, ready at the bottom if Scar fell. Scar pushed the top trapdoor open and pulled himself through it, his head still throbbing with pain. Grian followed only a few moments later, and he helped him out of the house. 

     Scar took a deep, shaking breath as he felt the emotions of the others fade. Now, it was just his own and Grian's. Scar tried to catch his breath; through the others' pain, he hadn't been focused enough to get enough air. 

     "I'm sorry," Scar apologized, though he wasn't really sure why. "I needed to get out of there."

     "It's okay," Grian comforted him. "What happened?"

     "I could feel what everybody else was feeling," Scar explained. "It was too much, everybody at once."

     "That sounds awful," Grian sympathized.

     "There's more," Scar said before Grian could pity him for long. "Something's really, really wrong with Etho. He was so blank but also so scared, and I could feel his physical pain, which only ever happens under extreme emotions. Absolutely everything hurt. I don't know where it comes from or why, but something's wrong."

     "Then we really need to get Cleo-"

     "We need to get Etho out of there first," Scar interjected. "Being in there is only making it worse, I think. We need to get him to his own base, preferably, but if we can't get him there then we bring him to Joel's. Anywhere but down there."

     Grian nodded without arguing.

     "I'll find Cleo in the meantime," Scar said. "I'd help you, but I don't think that would help any of us."

     "I understand," Grian reassured him. "If we're not here when you're back, come to Joel's." Without further ado, Grian turned around back into the house. 

Joel pov

     "We need to get Etho to your base," Grian told Joel as soon as he'd reached the basement. "Scar's getting more help now."

     "I don't know what's happened," Gem said, her face plastered with worry.

     Joel bit back a retort, instead mumbling to himself, "Well, neither do we." He shook it off,  reminding himself that Gem (probably) genuinely didn't know what she'd done wrong.

     "We'll figure this out," X reassured her. "Let's help Etho get to Joel's first, then we'll help you."

     "Can you-" Joel cut himself off before he could accidentally say a command and corrected himself, "Can you move?" Etho remained unresponsive, his body completely still other than very vague shaking.

     Joel let out a long sigh and said reluctantly, "I can carry you. Since I don't see any other option." Nobody laughed for once, which Joel was grateful for.

     Joel threw on his elytra, which Gem had apparently taken off of him when she was the demon deer, and picked up Etho in a secure bridle carry. He flew out the trapdoor, barely fitting through and hitting his head on the ceiling above him before he landed on the floor. 

     Without waiting to see if the others were following, Joel flew towards his base, keeping his focus on not dropping Etho. After only a couple of minutes, he landed in the doorway of one of his buildings and rushed Etho up to his bedroom, setting him down on the bed.

     "There you go, Etho," Joel comforted him. "You're okay. You're safe. You're-"

     Etho punched Joel across the face.

     Joel looked at him in thorough confusion. "That was…unnecessary," he started. "What are you-" Etho stood up and kicked Joel in the ribs.

     "Hey!" Joel exclaimed, stepping back. "Etho, what are you doing?" Joel looked up at Etho's face and saw that he had the same expression that he always did when he didn't have control - pain and desperation.

     "She must've given you a new command," Joel realized. Gem lied. She said she didn't. Etho lifted his other leg and kicked Joel on the other side of his ribs, taking away his breath for a moment. Etho raised his fist, but before he could land a blow, Joel stepped aside so Etho hit nothing instead.

      It'll wear off, Joel told himself after another thirty seconds of Etho punching him. He can't fight forever. Joel kept dodging the blows, but he still got hit rather hard in the chest and he was pretty sure Etho had knocked one of his teeth loose.

     Joel heard the other Hermits arrive, and they walked into the room a moment later. At the sight of Etho, X stepped forward, but Joel shook his head. 

     "Don't interfere," Joel said tersely. "He'll stop." Joel dodged another blow to the head, then an attempt to kick the back of his knees. 

     Etho moved suddenly so that Joel had no time to prepare before he grabbed Joel's throat from behind with his arm tightly. 

     Joel had breath for a few moments, but only a few before he started gasping for air. Etho's grip became tighter, and Joel immediately went into panic mode.

     He tried to tear Etho's arm away from his throat, but it was no use; his grip was far too tight. Joel tried to drop all of his weight, but Etho still held him where he was. Joel put his legs back underneath him to hold his weight, and Etho tightened his grip even further.

     "Joel!" Grian shouted. Joel's vision was starting to become hazy, and he had almost no air to breathe. Etho's grip went tighter still, if that was even possible, and cut off the last of his air, leaving him standing helplessly as he choked to death.

     Grian charged into the room, knocking Etho over. Etho released his grip immediately, not catching himself from falling on the ground.     Joel collapsed, gasping for air. He was breathing quickly, desperate to get enough oxygen back into his system. Still, his vision was hazy, and his hyperventilating was not helping with his case.

      Don't you dare pass out, he told himself unhelpfully. Etho needs you right now. Don't you leave him. Joel tried to bring himself to his feet, but the movement only made him dizzier.

      You're weak, he punished himself. You have air now. You should be perfectly fine.

     "Etho, snap out of it!" he heard Grian shout from somewhere beside him. Etho had brought himself back onto his feet and was pressed against the wall by Grian.

     "Don't…hurt him," Joel rasped. He forced himself to stand, leaning against the wall so that he had less of a chance of falling. "It's not…his fault."

     "Then whose is it?" Grian almost demanded.

     Joel looked at Gem, who was standing across the room from them, and said darkly, "Hers."

     Grian looked over his shoulder at Gem and shook his head.

     "No, Joel, it's not," Grian said. "She doesn't know what she did. She doesn't remember. She wasn't herself."

     "She needs…to control herself, then," Joel said through breaths, his voice full of unspoken venom.

     This seemed to send Grian off the edge. He'd been completely understanding a few moments earlier, but when he spoke he spoke with an anger Joel had never before seen him wear.

     "That's not something you can control, Joel!" he shouted, still pinning Etho to the wall. "If something gets into your mind, you can't just stop it like that! If something tries to control you, it will, and you can't fight back! I know, Joel!  Gem has no memory of what she's done. She was not in control. If you're mad at her for something that she doesn't know she's done, that was not her fault, then there's something wrong with you."

     Joel's eyes were wide, and he found himself shaking. He had never had any of his friends shout at him this loudly with this much anger. I knew it, his mind whispered. They're just faking being my friend because they feel bad for me. They don't really care.

     "I know," Joel said quietly, apologetically. "I know there's something wrong with me, and that I don't deserve to be here. I know. I know. You don't have to tell me, though it's good to know that someone else knows it besides me."

     Grian stared at Joel silently. He didn't apologize, Joel noticed. He means what he said. I messed up, and now he hates me even more than he already did. I knew I was worthless.

     "Joel, surely you don't mean that?" Gem's voice said from the other side of the room. 

     "I do," Joel said, "and you know it. You hate me, too, just admit it. You don't want me to be here, either. There's something wrong with me and everybody knows it."

     Gem's eyes flickered to Grian for a moment before looking back to Joel.

     "Joel, there's nothing wrong with you," she told him gently. "It's okay to feel whatever you may be feeling. I understand that you're upset, and I understand how you feel about yourself. Really, I do. It's okay to feel those emotions. It's okay to have doubts. All of this, all of your emotions, all of your doubts, all of your fears, it's all a part of who you are. Who you are. And do you know who that is?"

      Do I? Joel thought. After a moment, he shook his head weakly, avoiding making eye contact with anyone. No. No, I don't. I don't know who I am.

     "You are your own person," Gem answered for him. "You are Joel. You are a Hermit, an Emperor. You are our friend. You are one of us. You are amazing. You are loved. You are wanted. Most of all, you are enough, Joel. You are enough."

     Joel sighed, switching the topic and continuing, “When's Cleo going to be here?”

     Grian responded, “Soon. Few minutes, max.”

     The four waited in a silence like a taught bow until Cleo and Scar arrived.

     “What’s happening? Scar’s bad at explaining,” Cleo asked, walking in. Once they saw Etho, they paused, then demanded, “What the hell happened to him?”

     “He was in the basement of a demon deer for three days, which, as one can imagine, isn't great,” Grian answered. 

     “...Right then. What can I do?”

     “He's got a wire holding his mouth shut, so he'll need that removed, and some pain killers. He's got some hooks that he'll probably want removed later, but he's kind of…out of it, so wait until you can ask him,” Joel answered, his voice slipping more into a monotone as he attempted to cover for what he had said previously. 

     “See I told you you should bring supplies to cut metal,” Scar added, smirking. He was standing just in the premises of the room, not stepping any further.

     “Scar, shut up,” Cleo retorted, digging through a shulker, “I need to focus.” They pulled out a pair of diamond-bladed scissors and started working on the wire. She pulled it aside and handed it to Grian, who happened to be closest, instructing, “Burn this, it's a biohazard.”

     Joel watched Etho, waiting to see how he would react. He simply didn't. Not when Cleo walked over with the diamond scissors, not when she shoved them in his face, not when they pulled out the wire. He just sat there, shaking ever so slightly, eyes glazed over.

     Cleo moved away, digging through the shulker again and pulling out some potions. “This is regeneration, instant health, and some pain killers. He’s got to take them every six to eight hours. Can someone keep track of that?” Joel raised his hand, gathering the supplies from Cleo. “Let me know if you need anymore impromptu surgeries,” Cleo glanced back to Etho, “and let me know when Etho gets better.”

      If, the very deepest corners of his mind corrected. 

     With that Cleo took off, likely returning to whatever they were doing before Scar summoned them.

     “Ok, I'm heading back to my base,” Grian said after another minute of silence.

     “Grian, wait!” Gem called out, but he had already departed. Gem turned back to Joel, saying, “Do you need any help?”

      Joel shook his head, replying in a flat voice, “No, I should be good.”

      “Ok, then I best be out, too. And I'm sorry for all this. Really, Joel, I'm sorry.”

      “It's alright. Like Grian said, it's not your fault,” Joel answered, his voice still flat as Kansas, though his calmness was as false as the green of the Emerald City. 

     “Bye, then,” Gem said leaving, followed by Scar and X.

     Then, it was silent. Not the tense silence of words waiting to claw at the air, but a dead silence, when there are no thoughts left breathing.

     After a moment passed, Joel walked over to Etho and said, “I'm gonna move you to a chair, alright?” Joel picked Etho up, moving him over and seating him. 

     Joel opened his inventory, reaching in. His fingers danced over his knife, which he had not bothered to remove, but he grabbed the potions instead, administering them to Etho and then setting a timer for six hours. 

Chapter Text

Marionette

  ̸̧̻̠̜̥̜̞̺̰̙͚̣̥͓̱̈́̐͒̍̋͛͂͐̄̐́̅͜͜͝͠i̵̟̻̝͈͔̗̤̯̮̬̰͕͒͆́͂̽͒͒̏̏́̚ͅs̸͉͌̃̽̑̆̑̃̋̒͛̈́̚̚ ̷̢̡̭̰͉̬̯̖̝͇̫̦͚̤̈̇͌̇͊̕ͅf̵͕̹͔͙̤̭͉͇̳͖̻̗̞̮͐̈́̓́̐̓̄͠ơ̵̧̐̈̽̎̂͗̏͌́̇̓̊ř̶̡̗̣͉͎̮̲̤̹̾͊̾͐͌ ̴̡̡̳̤̮̩̓̐̈́̿͒̾̓̑̏̓̿̾͋̾͠͝͝à̵̢̩̠͎̩̼͈̰̫̬̼͇͖͍̰̤̼̓̀͋̅́͒̉͋̄̈̿̾͛̕͝͠d̷̢̯͔̮̋̕d̵̻̤̲̲̩̻͍̗̗̗̰̥̻͔͉̱̾̾͋̅̀̀̋̀̄̍̈́̉̀͝ͅḯ̷̡̧̟̯͚̪̫̯̳̐͗̿̊̄͗̐̌͑̿̔̚t̸͕̟̘̲͚͐̎͛į̶̖̘̞͓̘̼̦̤̬͍̯͛̒́͋͛͜o̶̹̍͊̍̔̇̊̑̌͛̊̕͝n̶̛͇͕͐́͑̂̒͛̔̋̅̑̚̚

̵̦͍̺͒̾́́̆̀̌͜ͅA̸̢̡̨͇̺̖̲̠̬̟̓ͅd̷̟̲̟̞͑̔̊̒͋͑͊̕d̸͙̼̯̝̠̫͕̭̄͆͊į̵̨̞̬͍͎̬͍͙̼̗̦̞͉̝̱̇̈̀̌̽̄̃͛͝͝ẗ̸̢̫̻̠͖̙̻̞́͊͋͑̾̏̽͊͋̆̂͗͘̕͝ĩ̵̤̮̻̼̣͖̗̬̗̲͆̂͌̂͆͒̏̀̾̒̇͘͠ͅơ̶̛̫̗̥͍̰̼͓̫̓̒̂̃̈̊̐̐̿̀̽͜͝͠ͅn̵̨͎͍̪͑̎͋́͛̕͝ ̴̨̨̧̡̳̻̞̪̫̱̝͉̰̖̮̽̃̋͂͌̿̽̇̾̈́̇̀̏̿̂i̸̛̛̳̪̣̦̬̗͎̤̺̟͆́̋̃̇́̉̉̈́̋̀̚͜͝s̶̢̨̼̩͚͈̗̱̖̝̜̜̯͙̮̺͌́͒̾͒́̋͗͗̒̐́̽̚͜͝͝͠ ̵̢̯͍̖̠͔̜̜̦̝̞̟͈̣̬̬̤̄t̴̨͖̬͖͙͈̤̳̤̬͍͔̹͛̿̓̑̑́̌̚͝ͅh̵̛̫̼̘̲͓̳̲͇͑͂̆̈́̄͂͝ͅe̷̫̬̗͎͎͉̪̅́̋́́̇̽͑̎̀͗̾͑̕͘̚ ̴̫͆̍͌̈̋̊̑͑̏̊̄̈̌̕͜͝͝͠ṃ̴̛̛̗̝̠̤̮̒̓̔͆̍̍͛̉̂̿̉̒͌͗̕a̴̞̺͆̀̇̔̀͠ṱ̵̦̟̥̯͍̺̏̊̐̆͋͒̚ͅẖ̸̢̨̼̬̣͐̔͊̎̆ȩ̶̢̜̭͔̺͕̰̜̝̲̯̟͕̿̐̏͆͒́̓͂̒̚͝ͅm̶̯̱̤̓a̸̢̡̡͙̼̦̼̥̞̦͊͗̏̽̎͜ţ̸͉͖͎̝̹͉̩̦̰͎̬̻̘̥̄̌́͊͐̈́̑́͘͜͠i̷̹̩͔̭̜̱͈͚̪̖͉͐c̵̨̢̙̮͍̺̱͈̤͉͌̔̅́́̀͗̚͜ͅs̸̟͈̼͔̬͉̦̜̱̯̘̜̈̆͌̏̎̌͋͑̒͜ ̸̥̓̈͒͊̈́̊͛̍͑ỏ̵̡͇̭͔͍̜̯̪̂̃̃̄f̸͇̪̦̪͓̟̠̻̖̲́͊̑̈́͘ ̴̩̝͇̺̪̳̓̿̇̍̂͘c̸̗̗͓̮̤̙̱̗̪̺̟͙̝̝̰͉̣̀͆ȍ̷͈̝̩̰̹̯̻̼̗̟̫̰̬̥̰̭̽͒͛̀͐ͅu̷̧̦̘̹͖̯̩̳̤̮͒́̎̾͌̚ͅņ̵̡̹̦̳̹̻̯̫̻̅̎̌̇̀́͗̈́̂̐͗̿̃t̸̡̧͖͓̹̩̯͍̪̲͚̲̲̽͜į̴̧̳͕̘̗̤̖͚̙̰̻͉̼̣͚̽̒̎̃̈́͌̑̊̏̊̀͘͜n̸̘̲͐͆̿̒̅͠g̴̛̖͙̱̪̤̲͎̪̥̤̉̀͆̈́͛̍͐͌͘.̴̤̝̻̼̝̻̼̙̿̍́ ̶͍̆̂͠Ẁ̷̛̘̟͕̬̙͓̬͉̿̏̿̒̊̈́̏͐͝ę̷̟̬̠͓͉͉̞̹̳̥̮̝̬͌̀̊̌̌̔͑͛̆͝ ̵̗͎͖̝̮̼̮̅̾̈́̿̽͛̎̓̇̚u̸̡̝̳͇̱̫͖̼̔̌̍̄̎͂̇͌́̀̆̀͑͆̉͘s̴̨͙̟̫͖̺̮̈̅̿́̓̄͒e̸̢̢̗̹̻̦͗̏̋̀͑̾́̓̇̀̍̉̑͘͘͘͜͝ ̵̧̥͈͉͕̯͈͂t̶̻̙̩͓̖̳͚̥͌̓̑͛̅̔̇̏͜ͅh̶̖͇̩̼͔͍̹̙̹͇̙͍̖̖̘̲̀̊̑̈́͌͗͗̐ę̶͇̐̃͊͂̅̾́͘͠ ̷̧̗͇̳̮͖̯̪͔̀͊̇̾̏̈́́̚͜ͅp̷̧̧̡̛͙͚̦̬̯̭̊́̽̈́̈́͂̍̉̐̓̿͘̚͝l̷̲̼̔̂̒̀̍̚u̸̧̥̳͓̳̖̦̖̺̮͐̂̊͂͊̒̋̿̐͌͝͝͝ͅs̴͙͙̼̙͇̖͖̿͑͐̒̃̆ ̷̧̧̟̗́̈́́͒̐͌̈́͊̀̌̈͗͘͘̚͠s̸͖͖̫̬̤͌͛̑̃̈́͂́̏͐͆̌̊̚͝͝y̵̘̻̫̘̻̪͎͚̻͍̬̱͚̤̒̉́̈́͐̽͜m̷̢͇͔͚͎̫̲͙̙̱͈̭͖̮̹̃͗̇b̵̢̡̡̜̣̘̑̈́̉̌̓̌̊̇̏̑̕̕͘͝͝͝ő̷̫̟͓͈̈́̿̈́̀ͅl̷͇͔͉͋ ̴̳̹̗̤͉͚͇͋̇̌͛͛̀̂̄͛̂͝͝͝+̶̨̣̤̳̭̬̞͕̙͇̂̋̄͑͗̏̈́͐͒̅̈́̒͌̕͝ ̴͓̙̖͎̟͕͖̫̺͓͍̯̬̘̼̬͈͌f̶̧̛̤̼̘̝̮̹͎̻̠̜͚͚̄̾͠o̴̢͕͔̳̝̹̞̩̣̻̓̀̄̎̓̐̈́̕̚r̸̞̻̤͚͖̠̹̜̤̞̋̃̀́̀͆̀̍́̈̒͐̌̕͝ͅ ̴̰͎͇͕̣͉̼̫̃̈́͌̒̓͌̒͊̐̋̾̀̓͘̚͝ͅa̵̺̠̦̪̺̠̅̃͑̋̄̒̑͆͒͐̊͗͐̎̏͝ͅd̶̛͔̜͙̳͍̤̭͚͍̻̈́̌̉̋̃͑̈́͒̿̀̒͗̏̓̕d̸̨͓̭̰͇̦̤̄̌ḯ̷̡̳͇̠̺͓̏̎͝t̵̗͉͉͛̄i̴̛̤̥͈͙̻͉̘̾̔̅͂̌͐̆̀̓̍̏̍̈́͝ͅơ̸̡̢̢̹̩͙̤͖͇̲̖͔͎̄̏̎͝n̵̮͇̼̦̭̞̦̮̖͓̯͈͂͌̎͒͐͊̅̉͛̆̚.̸͉̫̱̦̣̈́̀̋̓͑̎̕̚͜͠ ̷̡̡̡͙͈͔͈̭͔́̌́͛͋̂̈́́͊̏̕͠T̵͖̟͎̼̋̔͂̎͛͛͂̐̐̔́̑͝ḩ̸̨̠̖̩̦̺̩̹̳̮͇͔̠͌̈̀̔͂̈́͑̀̆̈́̔͆̂́̍͋̕ë̴͉̯̣̫̫̝̻̖͕̭́́̂̆͂̀͑̇͊̎͜͝ ̶̢̧̪̲̥̪̖̂̔̽̽̔͝ȍ̵̦̗̣̲̖͇̲͑̈͜͝͠ͅp̴̨̮̭̰̙̱̹̲̣͖͗̉̍̆̔p̴̡͇̙̞̬̤̱̃́́̀̚͝͠o̶̼̼͖̖͚̟͖̣̻̹̫͚̖͔͈̫̹͐̾̄̽̀͛̀̐̚s̵̡̛̰̬̺͙̙̱̖̤̳̰̩̺͔̦̯̔̅͛́̆̿́̄͒̓̇̍̕͝͠͠ȋ̶̛͉͎̔̃̈́̈́̂̋̏̒̓̔̄̽͠t̵̤̭̐̂̀͛͛̑̅͛̀́͘͠ė̷̡͇͖̩̞͙͚̣̲̦̪̟̟̖͖ͅͅ ̶̢̧̫̪̳̳̟̥͚̝̯̖̰͚͈̥͋̓̓̆̽͘ó̴̘́͋̈́́̾f̸̹̗͈͓̲̼̬̲̜̠̦͌̎͘͘ ̶̡̙̼͎̼̔̈̂̂͗͌̋͆͑͌a̵̛̳̹̠̤͖̳̘̞̟̱̹̽͒͌̇̊̐͝͝d̵̢̡̛̥͇̞̫̦͓̲̖̈́̈́́̂̓̄ͅḓ̶̨̡̤͍͕͕̦̘̭̜̳̦̮̬̀͗͊̋͝i̷̧̢̩̮͔̬͓͚͙̥̦̬̠̼͙͑̿͐̏̐̇̄̀́͑̔̓̋̋͘t̸̡̢̛͖͕̱͙͖͕̠̱̮͍̒͐̀̈́̒͋͘̚̕͜į̶̫͔̥̳̮͇͎̝̬͔̼͙̪͙̈́̏̾̂͗̏͑̈́͊̊͘̕͘ơ̵̻̩͌̑́͑̅̎̉̈́͊͛̋̍̀̚̚͠n̵̡̢̜͇̝̬̯̤͎͇̼̭͊̃̓̊̇̊̈́̕͝ ̴̧̹̫̣̣͎̖̣̺͓͊͜į̴̼͎͈͈̠͍̟͒͋̉̌̂̕͝ş̸̧̛̘̠̪͇̗̣̺͎̳͇̯͉̼̋͑̇̈́͑̓̈́̔͌̀̆͒̓͑̚ͅ ̶̨̟̲̫̥̾̒̏̿́̋̀͘ş̸̱̖͎̰̮̤̮̱̫͕͋̑̾̾̅͗̃̚͜ų̴̻̹̟̘̲̗̭̼͕̫̭͕̖̘̬̌̂͋̽̔̒̈́̌͠b̷̢̛͇͚̦̝̝̠̪̮͊̋͐̃̅̋̂͝ͅt̶̳̱̳̼̟̆̎̓r̴̢̨̧̛̭͙̞̞̹̣̩̈́͗̍̒̏͊͠͠a̴̙̼͔̝͎͎̮͎̺̦̲͗̋͛͛͜c̷̼̘̹̦̗̻̠̖͒̂̇͋̊͆̓͛͒̈́͆̉͝͠t̴̛̘̔̊́̏͗̃̎͜i̴̜̼̞͉͓̥͒̆̌̐o̸̤̮͇͛̓̄͌̀̓n̸͚̮̋̽̈́͌͘̕.̶̜̘̠͓̕ ̸̧͈̖̞̝̰̱̙̎̄̈̓͑̈́͌̓̓́̉̕̚͝͝W̸̧̠̹̹͖͙͖̮͓͓̦̺̖̞̆͌̒͑̓̓́̄̍̑̐̋͑̑́̏͜͝e̷̢̳̤͙͍̪͍͓̮̱̱̎͐̏̍̀̈́̇̾͛̓̑̿͜͠ ̶͍͔̳̲̯̘͍̖̱̼̗͉̌͐̿̂̄̐́̑ͅǔ̴̢̖͉͔̟̟̬͕͖̭͓̟͇̮̑̾͊̾̂̔͘͘͠͝ͅͅs̵̛̪͚̾ȩ̴̨̛̹͓̥̲͓̺̪͉̖͓̜̩̋͛͘͜ ̴͈͔͍̗̤̩̍̒̐̋̔̏̒͜ẗ̷̩́͑͠h̶̡̧̺͉̞̯͍͕̦̬̰̘͇̗͖̅̆̿͑̈̂́̒̓̊͆ȅ̶̢̘͉̝͓͍͖̯̥̬̐͛̇͊̅͗͌̉̾̈́̊̋̔̐͜ ̷̛̭͉̫̺̺̘̗̆̓̆́͛͝m̴̛̤͎͈͕̲̭͈͆͛̇͛̊̈̒̑̏͑̎̽̕̕͝i̴̤͕̯͙͚̺̭̚ņ̴̨̟̤͖͖̪̺̫͍̱͕͎͍͇͕͋̓̃̾̆̇̍͆̋͐́̕͘͝ͅư̶̧̰͍͇̜̠̙̤͎̗͈̂̈́̉͐̋̐͐s̶͍̟͒̓̇̔ ̷̢̟̙͎͖͉̤̭̙͆̑́̅ͅs̴̢̛͕͓̲͎̮̯̱̼͉̜̳̑̀̓̆̓́̆̔̈́͒̓̊͋̕ẏ̶̡̧̨̩͔͕̤͙͚̓͜͜m̴̫̦̗̉̿͒b̸̧̼̼̻̤̯̓̿̇̽̅̀̋̚̚͝ͅo̶̧͙̥̍͋̐͘͠l̶̢̼̥̥̘̲͎̠̠̖͔͍̖͌̈́̊͌́͝ ̷̙̹̒̀͛̊̑̌͛͋́̽͒́̚͝-̸̧̛͎̬̺̟̒͂͛̿̈́̉̈́̄̋̓͒͗̕͝͝ ̴̖͑̐f̶̮̭̺̫͕͉̱̰̻̑̔͛̾̉̔̚͠͠ǫ̷̧̹̥̤͎̮̜̞͍̐̿́̅͘r̵͔̻̍̈́̈̀̎̿͊̎̓̾͋ͅ ̸̩͔͋̃̌̾͋̊̒́̀͊̀͆̃̂̇ś̵̻́̅̂̍̃̓̇ǔ̵͕̯̮́̎͌̐̕b̷̢̭̙̗͔̂̍̐̽̊̀̂̅͝͝t̸̡̛̝̯͚̣͔̱̞̖̣̮̻̲̀̓̉͒͒̿̇̌̆́̒̚͝r̷̖͙̺̎a̴̛̬̟͔͔͔̝͔̺̤̝͙͙͇̒̇͗̇̕͝͠č̶̡̡̹̦͉͚̖̜̱͎̰̟̹̓́ͅt̶̙̹͇̪͚͍̙̩̹̠̜̏i̶͇̝̩̝͔̙̖͎̰̩̫͒͜ǫ̶͔̣͚̭̩̳̮͍̝̤̤̞̱̙͂͆̈́̀̈́͂͊͒̈́̓͋̋̑̚͜͝ņ̸̧͉̹̖̠̪̌͊̇̃̚.̷̛̙̬̣̞̖̳̺̲͈͙̰͍͓͇̊͌́͐̇̈͂

Pain. There was pain.

 ̸̱̭̱̼͕͔̬̂̆͆̑̎̾̌̑̇̔̕̕͝ͅḯ̵̧̛͓̗͎͙̝̭̗͚̟̜̼̱̳̩̔̈́̊́̎̃̀͒̑͊̌͂š̶̛͇̟̥̰̰̤͎̤̜͚̪́̕ ̵̛̩̺̈́̊̾̾̂̋̈́͛͆̇̀̈͗͘̚͜͝f̴̙͕̘̤̟̑̐͝ơ̷̢̢̨̼̞̫̩͉̮̥̒̾̅̊̏̂͗͘̕r̷̻͈̰̺̖̦̖̭̙̞̪̮̗̺͇̭̈́͑́̇̈̂̐̕͝͝ ̶̛̗͚̣̱͙̼͇̣̹̞͕̂́͆͆̾́̾͌͂̀͂̄͂̌̊͝b̴̡͇̲̦͙̯̔͋̈̈̈́̈́̐̈́̓͒̆͗̚̕ä̸̟̥͖̓̀̍͜͝s̷͓͐͂͊̍̎̏͆̂ě̸̬͇̅̿.̴̛̛̤͇͒̆̾́́̿̑͒̊̇ ̷̡̣̲̹̝̹̙̹̲̻̰̜͍̗̘̀̄́̃A̷̭̼̋̈́́̈́̚ͅ ̶̧̡̙͉̩̥̝̟͈̟͎̪̓͜͜b̸̢͓̠͈͕͇̥̩̟̠̭̜͉̜̼̓̂̈́̉͑̔̌̍͊͑̈́̃͗͛͒͐͠ͅa̸̻̞͚̠̱̤̬͋́͛̂̌̌̐͋̔͆̀̿̽͝͠͝s̴̡̛̠͉͉̘̈́̃͆̿̓̓̏̽̋̈̈́̔̅͆̍̒ē̴̡͉͔̟͕̜͖̯̐̀̎̋͋̃̅͗͛̄͘ ̴̺̹͉͉̦̺͙͓͈͔͇̤̲͚͉̮́̈̓̂͗̈́͒̉̈́̓̽͆͘͘ͅņ̸̢̛͍̩̖̣̼̈̏̽͗́́̍͆͌̚͘̕͜͝͝͠ự̶̢͚̘̺͐̆̂̎͗̍͌́͝m̶̖͉̈͐̓͂ḇ̵̡̱̮̙̭̪̿̀̄̑̏͑̌͐̒͒̚ȩ̷̡̢̡͎͇̳̩͚͎̹̤̉̍̅̾̋͛͛͝r̴̢͈̘̞͖̹̜̠͎͉͓̠̗̜͙͑̿̐̐̈́̎̃̾̾̔ͅ ̵̨̡͕͔̳̝͖͈͒͆́̉̃̆̍́͋̆̈́͌̎̅͋̕ị̵̧̨͉͖͕̥̟̗̼̠̲͔̝͊̍̆̅́̇͌̽̄̾̍̽̍̄́̚͝s̴̨͉̙̯̘̤̼̜͗̃ ̶̼͖̟̤̳̤̫̠͖̮̜̺͍͈̺̥̮͛̈́̿͆͛̚̚̕͝͝a̵̡̢̙͈͔̖͔̠͓̜̣̰̞̹͍͚̋ ̶̻̹̞̹̰͖̙̪̳͈͚̒͂͊͒͋̄͝n̷̝̳͔͈̼̱̥͒̏͑̈̓u̸̬͍͚̟͎̻̒̀̅̈͋͛̚m̸̢̺͕̫̬̺̠̯͓̻̱̟͍̩̗͙̥̍̉b̵̧̻͎̫̭̰͇́̊͑̀̿̾̏̈́̕͘e̵͓̤̘̭̲̩̋͑̀͋͐̅́͑͘͝͠ṟ̸̟̦͉͙̯̪̄͜͝ ̸̡̲̣̱̞̻̠̝̘̫̏̋̿́͌̄̒̉̃͘b̴̡̦̪͖̼̖͎̭̩̳̹̌̈́̀̉̅̆͠e̸̩͚̲͇̪̰̹̺̘̺̕į̴̟͖̼̱͈̼͇̦̯͖̲̓͝n̶̢̛̙̝̈̌͂͊̽̾͆̂̇͝g̴̛͔̱͈͕̾̇͊̒͊͐̅̾̍̑̄̉͛̚̕ ̴̣̺͚͚̼͖͖̲̎̋͝m̸͔͋́̂u̵̡̧̳̹̙̯̤̗͚̞̗̦̭̭̻̾́́͒̒̇̄͗̈̓̏̿̏͠͝͝ḷ̵̢̨̛̛͖̗͖̞̝͈̖̭̜̥̬̓̉̌́͂͋̑ţ̸̧̨͚͚̹̹̍̓̊̋̀̄̇͠͠i̷͈͉̳̱̙̳̯̥̻̼̣̥͓̫̫͇̇͒̕p̷̨͍̻̠̱̫̫̙̭̗̱̫̺̓̈́͊͗̚͜ͅͅļ̶͍̺̼̤̫͙̞̮͚̜̦͘i̷̢̠̱͊͊̈́̚͝e̵͙͎͍̘͓̭͎̣̭̽̿͋͆̅̽̽͂́̕͝ḑ̷̢̧͔̻̼͍̮̬͎̙̘͓̝̺͖̈́̑̈́͗̈́̽̇̕͘͠͝ ̴̨̪̗̹͚̫̳̘̦͈̱̗͍͔͍̥̥̉̆̅̏͑̿͒̀̆̓͊̚̕b̶̡̙̮̖̜̼͓̹̱̲̰̞̿͆͋̅̂̄͛̾͜ͅy̷̛͍̝̌̓́̎͠ ̸̧͙̫͕̰͇̱̝̥͈̳̝͍̜̼̪́̾͛̄̓̈́͠į̷̢͉̦͓̬͔̟̟̈́̇̃́́ţ̶̞͕̟̜̤̤͍̥̩̑͂͌͆͘͜s̶̡̧̳͖̙̻̳̻͉̘̳̃͆̑̐͜ͅẻ̶̛̻̩̓̄̋͂̍̓̉́̂̓̚l̷̢̡̧̙͓̳͉̯̞̯̮͇͗͜f̷̰̞͍͗̍̑͋͌ ̶͎̼̺̗̰̼̄͆͋̽̽ͅm̴̛͓̙̱̊̏̀̾͐̈́̋̃͋̅̇̍̔a̸̱̎n̶͖̅͗́̂̔̑̌̌̀̚͝y̵̧̛͔̪̯͙̙͚̟̦̪̱͈̱̩͙̭̓̐̔͒́́͛̊̏̎̐̈́͘̚̕ ̷̜̺̥̽̓̊ť̸̛̝̗̮̻̣͙͌̀̓͑̊͋̓̈́̏͐̋͑͜͝͠ī̸͎͎̥͇͙̩̙͍̭̺̐̇̅̐̈́̈̄̐̔̀̽̏̌̓̆m̸̢̠̗̩̖̖̲͔̪͚̜̪̱̯̗͙̍́͋̒̑̒̅͐͂̾ͅẽ̷̯͍̭͕͈̦̘̳̼̑̒͐̈́́̉̎͂͠ͅs̵̢̟̗̞̫͎͙̖̙̩̹͎͉̼͖̠̹̓͌.̴̢͖͎͎͓̪͖̈̋̈́̒̐̓̑̀̈́͘ ̵̧̧̗̜̻̱̘͕̙̘̙̺̟̼̥̿̈́̀̊͊̈̾͌̅͂́͗̈́͒̕̚͠A̵̢̨͖͉͚̺̩̹̯̙͓̬̱̞̗̠̅̓̓̊̃̓̚͜͝n̸̡̠̟͈̂̀̃́̍͠ ̸̢͕̗̩̮͕̤͎̰͖͒̓͆̓̇͊̀͑̚̕̚e̷̝̩̝̣͖̮̫͉̞͍̓̑̀̄́͆̈́͊̔̃̿̓͛͗́̚̕x̷̢̠̘͇̙̰̞̥͔͓̲̠͒̅̑͂̎͑̀̾͝p̴̨̘͉̝̲̝͇̺̾̈́͌͂̐͌̊̓͘͝ȏ̷̙͔̗͙̻̯̹͙̲̙̻̥̬̉̋͜ņ̵̨̨̢̛̱̟͔̦̯͇͉͇̲̫̠͛̋̚e̴̡̖͕͕̯̣͈̗͓̙͆̅̋͗̑́̈́̂͜͝ň̵̡̤̤͖̹̬͈̫̝̥̦̭͐͗̐͒̇̃̒̑̓̏͝ț̶̪͚̯͖̲͉̑̊̾̉̚ ̷͇̠̟̮̆ͅḭ̵̢̤̪͎̜̟͕̯̤͚̲̠̙̔̇̈̀̇̉̈́̾̇͗͋͜͝͝s̸̲͍̝̒͊͂̉͝ ̴̛͎̞͉͓̊̐̽̅̈́̄̀͗͛̍̾̚ͅt̶͖̩͕̜͊h̶̛̪̪̠̤͉̅́̀̓͋͆͊̓͒̔̑̑ë̷̠̟̩̬̯̺͍̣͙̜̩͙̖͕̻͈́̂̐͊̓́ ̶̢̧̢̤̩̭̮̤͎̣̖̝͛̅͋̾n̸̨̩̝̻̺̽͛̄̓́́́̑̉͒̉͜͝ų̸̨͖̠̳̻͎̠̙͚̥͇͖̥̒̍ͅm̴͓̯̑́̔̾̊̀͋́̈́͝b̶̛̲̪̯̞̘̖̬̻̫̜͈̦̬̮͎̯̈́̾̉͐ȩ̸͙͚̘̳͖̤̤̈̇̌͛̆̉̽͛̐̈́̐̊̓́͘͝͠r̴̨̰̪͍͈̼̰̘̲̒̈́̇͐̀̑͆̾͒͐͊̆́̌̉̆̈́ͅ ̴̧̛̝̬͔̗̺̫̙̱̎̽́̈́͆͌̎̔̈́̒̓̔͝͝o̷̼̣͙͎͓͙̹͒͑́͛̈́̚f̶͖̭͇͇͓̪̞͈̳̯̎̅̆͗̉̈́́̊͋̈́̓̏̑͒̚͝͠ ̸̠̙͙͖͉̰̊̏̽́͂t̵̛̺̠̩̺̟̟͙̟͛̐̀̓̄̕ḯ̷̻͚̮̂͆m̸̡̢͖̣̜̠͙̥̦͇̤͎̹̮̙̪̝̐̆͐̋̇̎̿͆̚̚͘͝͠ȩ̸̡̫͕͍͇̼̘̟̯̭̣̮̈́͗͗̓̈́̽͂̌̔̄̀́̋͂͊̕̚s̸̡̰̟͔͙̺͙̜̯̮̠̣̥̘̏̌̂̓ ̶̢̧̡͙̼͇̬̬̤̺͚̹͑̈́̋̉͆͘͝ţ̸̛͙͔̲̦̹̟̙̦͛̆̂̓̃̊͝ḩ̸̺͉͒̃̀̓͑̈́ę̶̛̛̩̈́̽̉̿͋͒̈́̈́ ̵̡̫̳̲͍̣̋̀̋̆͊̾̏̇͆͘̚b̷̧̤̼̘̳͙͔̝͚̪̱̭͓̗̋͛͐̅̇̇͌͒̀͌͆̕͜͜a̵͈̩͆̎̓̄͗́̚ͅͅś̷̨̨̙̥͖͈͍͙͍̼̭̻̂̔̈̏̂̑͌͌̀̔̍̾̊̈́̽̚ẻ̵̛̠̦̠̙̪̙͈͚̖̣̘̞̤̰͆͑̐̍̎͒̀̏̒̚ ̸̢̱̩̬̼̙̯̥͕̜̖͓̐͋̍̈ͅī̶͙͈͇͖̉͘͠s̶̢̧̙̅́̈́͛͑ ̶̫̭̣̗̼̦̝̺̹͔̫̤͖̀̄̀̃̂̾͆̂̐̚̕͠ͅͅb̶̠͋ĕ̷̱̙̬̥̇̈́́̏͘i̸̡͎͇̩̩͊̓͌͋̋̔n̵̨͕̮̦̙͇͚̫̪͑̀̾͛̽̈͋͋̂̏͋̕͘ͅǵ̸̥̌̒̑͛̍̄͂̕ ̶͈̊̀̎̍̍̿͒͆̀̇m̵̧̑̂̾͌̀̿̀͗̑͑̌u̴̹̘̳͍̭̜̟̼̔l̴̢̨̧̹͔̜̞̝͚̯͖͇̮̭͕̘̮̀̋̍̎̋̏̐̿̀̀̉̚͝͠t̵̘͉̥̹̳̱̱͍̺͕͐̔̏͆͗̂̂̍̐̀͘͜͜͝͝͝i̸̢̠̱̩̭̾̂͐͗̎͆͆p̴̨͙͚̫̠̱̳̑́̾̍͛̈́͌͑l̷̖̣̜̗̘̟͓͓̬̭̍̋̐̚i̴͎̤̩͌é̶͈̻̰̜̤̦͚̝̳̣̝̦̎̚d̸̛̩̈̓̅͗̀́̋̏͑̈͆͘.̸̨̛̥̝͎͈̘̘̩̖̈͋̒̍͒̈́̆̊̈̇͐̏̓̋͠͝ ̴̢̠͇͚͖̠̥͇͕̥̩̻͎̝̈́͒̌̓͘R̸̢͔̆͌͆̄̄̏̏a̶͉͉̓́̾̽͆t̴̰̬̮̣̍̿̏̋̂̅̍͐̾͛ͅḫ̵̢̢̡̨͕̤̬͖̩̭͙̱̋̈̇̓̀̍͂͂̐́̈̓̔ͅe̸̩̝͊̄ͅr̴̪̞̺͓̣̥̩͕̒́͐̎̂̕̕ ̷͉͇̭̮͖͉̬͎̩̝̖̻͚͑̄̈́̍̀͑͊͛͒̕͘t̸̛̛͛́͗͌̀͒̂̽́͋̊̑ͅĥ̷̞̭̦̤̭̰̬͙͉͓̪̹̩̀̀̅͆̀͋̋̽̇̊̚ͅa̴͈͉͕̫͋̅̇̈̊̎̏̓̀͝ń̸̢̧̩̙̖͖͙̞͙̪̺͈̮͈̯͙̃͗͜͝ ̶̬̮̮̹̝͉͛̌̓͛̓͛̌̑̈͆̾̍͝w̴̛͈͖̤̲͈̹̟̟̘̄̎̐̓͑̎̽̀̑̈́͋̓͘͘͜͝ŗ̵̛͍̘̯̳͖̬̝̱̜̗͔̳̃̍͆͛͗̽́̍̀̔̋̕̚͠ḯ̶̟̮̞̜̙͎͔t̴̡̨̤̠͎͍̹͓̲̲̖̲͑̎̋́i̷̧̗̦̗͕̹̳̜̤̻̹͓͓̭̻̽͗̃̏̔͑̽̐͋͗̕͜n̸̡̮̫͓̘̠͍̋̔͑̀͗͝ǵ̷̡̡̦͙̮̪̞̞̬̩͈͙͊̅̀̃̌̉͆̕͜͝ͅͅ ̸̛͖͓͇̃̈́̏̈́̍̋̒̿̂̒̑̅͆̚͘ͅ2̴̡̢͇̟͍̯̝̳̒̔̑̑͛͛͐͛͒̚ͅ ̸̡̛̲͍̥͓͎̝̳̬̗̬̙̺̹͍̤̒̀́̉̋̍̋́͗͌̋̀̔̕͜x̵̗͔͔̾̂̀̋̋̑͒̓̑̾̾̑̌̚͠͝ ̶͍̰̲̮͚̩͙͍̘̜͈͔͗2̸̧̢̤̘̲̙̩̼̓ ̸̬͈̦͌̆̄̑̈́͛̀̋̄̓̎x̴̧̨̢̖̭̥̻̻̭͇͇͈̣̦̑̾̀̈́̄̾ͅ ̵͕̞͍̙̣̣̼̜̩̟̠̥̬̪͎̐̊̀̀̾̓͆̂̆̓̌̑̎͝͝ͅ2̸̗͚̩͖͒̋̇͐͑̀̊͌̄̂̚͝͠,̵̨͙̘̺̤̠̠̌̆̀̐͌̉͗͑͌̆͒̌̾̈̈́ ̷̢̻̫̯̙͙͉͈̮̉̅̔̑w̶̡̡̧̫͚̮̖͖̦͕̤̭̫͑̃͂͋͐̑́͒͝ͅȩ̵̲̪̻̍̑͆͌͝ͅ ̷̨̛̞̭͕͈͚̦̯͉͉͇̋̅̀̌͆̂͗̕̕͘͝͠ͅͅw̷̛̖̘̗̠̫̤̻͆̒̈́̀̄̓̈̈̊̇́̑̅̕͠ͅr̵̨̻͕̰̘̠͚̹͍͔͔̘̦̃́̊̈́͆́̊͐̄͆̌̏̾̒͘̚͜͠i̶̡͙̹͍̝͖͚̞̜̙͆̉͗̃̾̿͑͆̀̏̀̉̿͌́͑͠t̶̨͙̦̭̹̠̫͎͔̼̮̩̞͕͑͗̿̐͆͒̉̍̀̿̋͘e̶̜̙̞̱̥̳̣̥̭̦͖͓͈̊̈̑͊̾̃͂̑͐̑̕͘͜͜͠͠ ̵̛̛̞̥̥̰͉͊̃̾́͐̎̑́͌2̸̘̼̼̈́³̶̧̲̲̣͙̩̦͉̥͉̣̮̹͖̯̿͘͜.̴̧̟̘̟͊̀̈̄͑̔͑͋͋̄̈̃̈͘͜͝͠ ̷̢̦̭̦̒̓̀̈́̋͂͊̌̈́͊̇̌̀̽̚Ţ̵̻̭͎͇̠̭̄͌̓̎͌̇̚͠ḧ̷̛̜̗̩̘̞̲̼̪͈̫͇̰̖́̾̈́̑͗ȩ̷̼̹̘̣͍̯̘̮̂͐̆͜ ̷̧̰̳̬̩̮̗̮̭̹̳̤̥̦̻̾̄̽̑͌̐̐̔̌͛͂̾̓ͅn̶̨̨̻̯̫͙̜͓͎͓̩͍͋͘ȕ̵̢̨͓̙͇̮͔̗̮̭͖̼̳̅̔̈́́͒̅̃̂̚͝m̸̢̡̧̦̗̣̮̭͙̱̫̹̬͠b̷̛̻̞̫̮̱̯͎̳̙̠̳̆̏̕͜ę̷̺̞̇͊͊͆͂̀̒̀̆̾̏̽̍͘͝r̴̨̠̖̝͓̳͖̮̘̬̗̱̋̑̿̚ ̸̧̮̩͙̖̲͙̇̇̾͠2̸̡̢̖͉͓͚̱̣̪͐͆̿̔̌̄̾̀̑͛̆̔͜ ̷̧̗̺̜͇͚̟͕̾͆̔̕̚͝i̶̛̛͚͂̏̃̃͗̀͗̏͐̿́͋̌̔͘͜ş̵̫̹̲̭̫͇͉̫͚͕̟̄̏̉ ̴̧͚̩̜̆͂̿t̵̨̛̯̻̼̻͈̅̏̒͛̃̏̈́̇̒̅̚̚͝h̵̥͌́̾̒̐̇̍̉͋ë̵̠͈̍̔͑̿̌ ̴̭̥͍͇͖͔̊̉̍͂̈̔̾͘ḇ̶̨̹̟̝̙̯̞͕̃͆̀́̃̈́̃à̵̧̱͍̻̟͙͙̘̪̲̝͆͑̍́̈́̀̄͂̐͊̅̐͠ş̴̰̠͙̟̣̳̪̣̝̈́́̌͒͗̀̈́̚͝e̵͚̫̯̜̜͔͒͜ ̸̧͒̄̀̓̌͑͊̒̒̀̅́͆͘͜͠a̷̼̓̾͛̾̀͌̾́͝͝͝͠͠n̵͔͇̹̫̝̍͒̆̆͝d̷̫͈̜̻̘̪̞̬̥̕ ̴̛̪͉̤̼̬̈́̑̈́̓̒͛͐͋͌͐͐̌͌̿͆͗͜3̶̖̦̞̟̘̃̀̈́͒́͐͌̀͂ ̷̡̛̛̘̲̭̤̯̺̞̗̱̻̼̯͐͛̐̃͌̍͌͒́̓́̚̚ͅi̸̢͕̰̩̝̤̳͇̖̩͓̺̤͐̒́͆̓̈́͛͋̅͌́̚͘s̷̟͎̲̈̎͆̈̈́ͅ ̷̢͙̞͓̘͇̲̥̟̖̝̘͎̆͑͗͆́̃͐̈́͊̇̊̚͜͜͜͠ț̵̣͚̺͈͓͉̹̣̝͕͈̅͊ḩ̸̢̗͎̖͉͚̝̦̪̤̮̙̜͂̈̓̃͝e̶̛͈̿̎̉̑̎̕͝ ̷̩̰̻̤̞͚̳͓͍̮̣̦̗̯̂͊̄̃̽̈́̓̅͐̆͒̎̚̕͘͜͝è̸̙̘͍̮̦̹̥̃̐̊͂̎͒̊͋̓͋̀̕͘͘x̷̩̬̀̉̉͑̄̓̅p̵̧̧̜͕̝̟̦̤̼̦͚̣̲̹͔͇̲͋͂̄̀͋͗͠ơ̴̝͖͉̭̳̟͐̔̊̏̀͒̇́͛̇͊̋̌̾͐͝ͅņ̶̨̨̱̦̞̘̤̪͔̙̗̺̥̘͆̓̓̇̾͗̀́̈͒̔͂̕̚͜ę̶̗̰̖͈̫̙̯̥̝̖͕̰̻͆͘͜͝ṇ̸̢̨͎͓͓̖̙͉̌̀̐̀͑͆͂̈́̾̑t̷̢̡̞͕̪͙̫̖͓̪̳̘̤͉̂͗̐͜.̷̘̪̓ͅ

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C̴̨̧̹̔̅̌͑͒̃̉̇̋͘ ̶̨͔̯͉͚͚͖̼̋̊͑̐̓͊͐̒̇͌͒͘͝͝͠ì̴̳͖͙̠͈̓ŝ̷̰͖̯̗͔̘͇̞̲̹͔̎̈́́̈͜͝ ̶̢͈͔͍͉̣̮̲͈̪̺̹̞͙̗͉̈́̉̌͆̓̃̔͒͋̊̚͝͝f̸͕̙̲̥̤̘̼̳̱̻͐͒̾̚͘ͅo̴̭̝͔̰͚͈̙̭͎̭̫͙̝̱͕͙͒͗̒̊͋̑́͗̀͌͑̃̈̄̿͜͠ȑ̴̨͕͎̣̼̟̖̞̥̬̌́̌̇͆͑̔̿̽̔̃̋̆͜͠͝ ̶̡̛̲̹̙̱̩̹͍̥̠̘̳̹̫̙͎͌̂̾̅̂̉̉̍̌̎̍͜c̸̡͕̥̙̥̯̜̙̜̹̥̟̣̝͓͕̀̎̒̏͘h̶̗͙͖͙̹̭̞̺͎͇̪͉̠͖͋͊̆̏͒͐̾̒̕͜͝ͅǫ̵̢̢̛̛͚̤̯̗̟̮̹̼̝̥̬̬̒̀̇̓͒̾̾̇̑́́͆̋r̸͓̗͔̦̰̤̞̰̻̫̯̱̊͋͛̎͐͋͝ḑ̵̝̻̼͈͓̻̻̪͕̼̓̀́̈́̓́͋̎͊̂̈́̊́̕͠ͅ.̶̮̟̔̃͂ ̶͙̄͐́̅͛̒̀̆͋́͘͝͠Ǎ̵̢͎͍̮̮̞̘͖̭̥̔̌̀̑͝ͅͅ ̷͖̹̩̱̼̭̗͔̯̰̀̾̈́̓̓̿̐̒̾̔̂͋͌͌̀̉͝ͅͅc̵̰̟̲͕̥̟̹̜̜̭̅̏͋̏͑͊͑̏́̔́̃͘ͅh̷̨̲͍͚͎̬̐́̇̏̊̕͠͠͝ͅö̵̹̳̣̮́̇͒͒͌̂̈̚̕͠͝ͅṟ̶̬͈̲̮̮͔̩̘͍̖̙̪͌̽̔̊̅̅͘͘d̷̢̼͖̼̩̤̦̣͓̦̝͖̥̫͎̠̓̄͒̒̆͛̅̏̚̕͜͠͝ ̷̨̨̡̛̭̭̜̻̼͇̟̦̣͚͖̣͖̍͒̔̀̌͆͗̌͗̈́͒̓͘͘ͅí̸̥̣͚̮͚̭̼̯͇̻͚̓̔́̋̄̀͋̌͌́̎͋͋́͠͠s̸̹͉̭̼͋̄͋̋̈́̔͆̾̌͐̎̊ ̶͔̟͖̻̣͊̌̌̇å̷͈̫̥͉̖̱̓͗̆ ̸̡͉̜̰̗͕̮̿̄̇̈́͆̈́̆̈́̍̇͝͠͝s̷̳̤͖̲̻͖̱̫̤̱̺̝̙͛̓͂̈̏̊̓̈̓͑̄̅͜t̸̛̫́͛̅̅̂̋̃̽̈́͛̚͝͝͝r̶̢̧̳͓͖̳̟̤̜̪̿̆̇̀̍̾̐͑̿̾̂̾̎̚a̶̧͎̭̪͉̟̯͍̠̮̋̃̌̈́̉̌̓̌̾̀̕͝į̸͖͇̝̠̙̜̖̹̦͙̰͋̕g̸̙̜̈̒͘ḩ̵̡̧̪̲͔̗̭̞͍͔͂͒̂́͛̏̈́͛̽̆̇́̌̊̅͋͝t̸̡̥͕͖̞̫̬̖̬͕̲̞̖͉̝̳͐̃̑͛͂̒̐͠ ̶̖͚̻͎̜͓̮̏̈͋̔ͅl̵͔̯͚͍͈͉̺̖̽̚i̸̢̢̥̠͙̰̼̅̉ņ̷̢̛̹̰̟̠͙̓̋́̊̍̎̉̍̀͠ê̷̼͈̪̒͑͊ ̴̗̠͖̟̌̾͗̌͑̃̐ͅi̵͉͍̤̤̪͔̦̹̘̳̣̔̒́͂̏n̴̛͔̉̌͒͑̓͌̉̓̇̀́͠ŝ̸͖̪͓̗͖͈̺̠̣̳͙̩͍̮̦̿́̈́̊̆͊͗͐͝i̸͕̜͌̐̄͐͛̃͑̇̓̀̎͘d̷̯̬̞̩̺͉͓̗͓̰̟̘̆̏͂̄̽̏͒̔͛͑́̕̚ͅͅę̵̙͚̹̖͈͎̭̑͋̾̀͊̓̐̀̇̆͐̓̀̽̚̕͜͠ͅ ̴̡̨̧͓̰͕̭̮̠͍̘̣̭̥̐͊͒̂̋̽́́̐̄͑̍̓̌͜o̸̟͚͂̏̂͛͠f̸͈̳̼̝̲̳̳̯͓̖̞͐̊͌̔̈́̈́̅̌̄̓̚͜͝ ̸̱̻͈̳̞͈̞̮̥̻͂̔̾́̑͛̽͛̊̚̚͜ǎ̶̘̓̃ ̸̙͇͙̠̞̮̦̘͛c̶̣̹͈̻̰̦̼̮̑̈̂͐͆̌͌͘͝ͅī̴̧̻͓̘̖̟̦̫͍̰̬͓̉̽r̸̢̨͎͍̬̣̰̘̟̥̥̦̮̱͖̋͑̂̀͒̿͑̈̑̈́̌̄̈̔̒͛̚͜c̵̛̭͕̥̍̋͒̌͑̇͛̈̂̇̾̚͘͝l̸̨̨̡̛̺͙̘̳̰̜̗̤͚̗͉̟̑̑̅̒̒̑͊̽̈̓̇́͆̕͠ė̶͖̟͎̣̰͓̈́̋͂.̴͎̦̩͉̠̝̘͍̣͕̝͑̓͜͝ ̴̼̣̲̼̬̲̀̒̓͗͐̄͗̌̇͂̔ͅC̴̦͇̲̖̬̤̜͎̒͗̋h̶̡͉͙͓̦̘͌̅o̸̮̥͉͓̗̻͔̣͎̦̾̄̂̂̊̕ȑ̴̝̻̰̮͈̎͑̾͒̄͝d̴̺̗̘̣͋̐̒͐̄̇͌̀̐͌̅̒͛͝͝s̷̨̫̭̗̩͕͇̬̘͖͐͒͠ ̸̧̹͔̉̉̎̂̀̾̉̚͝ͅa̵̭̩̫̩͚͉͋̋̃͋̇̈͊̄́̉̀̑͑͆̚r̷̨̮̠͈̯̯̞̗͕̞͕̀̎̋̇̈̈́́̅̏ͅę̴̝̣̦̲̺̥̥̺̻̮͕̦̮̘̆̉̈͛̐̋̍̓̅̋͜͝ͅ ̵̘̠͔̬̻̲͉̦͕͛̓̒͋̽ͅụ̶̡̧̮͍̺̤̗̭̮̺̯̙́̂̒̃͋͛̒̃́͜s̶̯͙̦̻̣̝̪̖̹͖̪̬̺̰̤͔̉́̂̔̐̅̋̉͛͗̾͝͠͠ͅȩ̶̢̤̟͕̱̱̗̹͈̬͉͎̰̔̄̾̈́̓͋̌̿̕͝͝d̵̞̓̎̈̂͋͒̓͠ ̵͙̠̤̬̘̣̝̦̤̯̬̚̕ͅǐ̴̡̡̨͙̬̭̣͓̜̣̝͕͇͓̼̌̐̇̍̊͆̽̓̕͝n̵̘̻̬͚̺̒͋̕ ̷̨̭̜̭̝͕̪͚̯͉̥͉̦̪̯̂̽́̈́̈͒͌̇̎̒̑͗̅͐̑̕ͅg̸̨̩̭̖͓͕̯̥͈̻̣̯̱͖̘̊͊̈́̊̓̎̐̕̕͘͜͝e̴̢̦͍͍̤̘̟̘̪͕̎̒͐͐͂̔̀̈́́̕͜o̸̢̲̠͔̭̩̱̜̙̙͑͌͗̄̅̏ḿ̷̼̳̩̮̣̘̖͙̜͌̑̄ȩ̷̰̘̦͖̲͍͇͓̬͔̱͚͕̻͊t̴̺̬̖̏̾͆̈̆̿̃͗̀͋̂̾̉̕͘ř̸͎͇͇̙̈́̆̍̽̑͒̊͋͜y̴̨̧̛̻̮̲͌̀̀̃̑͒̕ ̸̛̺͖̿͊̌́͛̍̌̓̿̅͑͐̈́̈́̚͠a̵̘̬͓̮̺͐̊̃͂̿̀͒̅̓̕͘͝n̸̼̭̳̣̟̟̭̣̘̤̦̄̃̌̐̓͜͜͝d̷̤̟̥̎ ̶̠̘̗͇̳̖͚̰͐͗͌̊͒̕̚͝t̴̯̻̲̫̓̂̓̒̂̊͑͆̌̓͘͠r̸̪̿̿́̀͛̅̏͆̓̎̔̃̾̚͝î̷̖̲͈̼̮̋̄̇͛̈́̈́̀͊̿̅̾̾͊͋͘͘͜ģ̶̖̥̯̲͓͈͍̏̅̽̓̇̊̀̍̎̒̊͘ö̵̳̲͔͙̣̲̪̆̾̓n̷͇̻̪̱̝̘͇͖͔̟͔͓͊̐̌͊̏̀̂͒̆̀̊͗̑͝͠͠o̸̯͔̖̓̏̓̍̅́̑̾̇̐̓̚m̸̟̪͍̾̆͒̄͝͝͝é̵͚̯̞̪̺͓̝̀̈́́͑̾̐͑͛̍̏͘͠ṯ̸͙͈̰̼̉͒̔́̑̂͐ŗ̵̡̡̟̫̲̱̮̞̣̘͙̹̝̼̏̂͛̽́̓̅̎̆͑̈́̈͗̀̌̕y̴̳͕̱̩͚̽́̿̎̌͊̉̍̊̋̈́̏̓̚.̶̟͕͓͇̳͓̗͎͉̉̂ ̸̣̓͌̔̀̀̀̑̓͆̅͘Ę̸͖̜̟̻̫̗͖͍͈̟͛͗̆́͘a̷̡̨̢̙̲̻̲̹̘̅̃̌͌̈́̊̆̔̅̊͂̄̕̚͝͠c̵̣͋̇h̴̢͎͍̰̹̘̼͎̣̹̜͚̭͋ ̶̧̞̘̣̤̪̋̋͑͊͝ȩ̵̨̧̮̻̼͓͉̤͠n̶͉̹̺̑̐̏̓̋̐̒̕͝d̵̨̩̪̥̞̭̈́͆͛̊͐̔̔̌̃͜ ̶̡͕͔̖̬̩̳̳̞̲̰̹͊́̇́̾͒̍̉̽̾͘̚͘͠͠ơ̵̖͎̮̭͕̰̯͊̂̈́͠ͅf̴͎͇̘̀̂̐̂̽̾͆͘͜ ̷̠̮̱̞̞̋̾͗̀̆̚ą̸̯̻̫͔̻̻͌́̒̂̑͛̽́́̾̄̚͜ͅ ̴̛̰͚̤͙̤̤̼̪͓̜͕͈̗̪̆́͗̀̔́̈̚͘͜͝c̷̢̧̢͖̭͈̙̜͉̭̬̞̩̫̋̋̓̍͋̚͝h̴̢̛͕̹̱̩̦̯͈̪̰̞̭̩̮̘̣̾̆̀̓̈̿̐̿̍͘͜͝͠ơ̸̢͚̹̳̅́̅̂̈́͊̔̊̾͑̎͒̿ŗ̵̧̞̝͚͓͈͈̖̏͒͐̆̾̊̌̇͗̕͝͝d̶̡̰͙͇̖̥̺̙̹͉̰͈̓̏̏͒̋͑̇̊ͅͅ ̵͍͍͚͈̯̠̦͓̈́͛̉̆́̊̕͜t̴̢̳̫͑̾̽̌̕o̴̧̘̪̬̓͜u̷̥͚͔̠͇͉̙͛̾̿̉͂͑͌̀c̶̖̐̈͂ḧ̸̛̭̥͇͇̥́̈́̈́̓͛͗̈́͘͘̕͝͝é̴͔̚s̴̢̱͚̫̣͚̦̦̞͖̝̪̤̉̈͌͐̀͒͑͌͋̉̃̈́̊͋̎̌̕ͅ ̶̨̛̼̰̭̩̙͕̝͇͐̃̈̓ţ̷̛̟̯̌̔̀̀̿̈́͗̚͠͝h̵̡̨̝̗̦̃̿̅͗̽̿͐̿̐̀͋̚͠ḙ̶̥̫̝̱̥̌͑̓̋̍̈́ͅ ̶̧̡̳̥̪͎̟̹̲͎̲̞͖͌̔͑̃̔́̋̅̉͗͑̆̈̈́̉͝c̵̘̹̮͍̰̪͈̈́̄͛̈̿̓͌͗̽͛͝͝ͅi̵̧̡̢̭̥͈͎̣̻͖̝̰͉̓̓͑͊̆̋̊͌̊̓͝ŕ̸̭͕͚̯͕̬͉͎̘̤̠̤̤̟͙͖̀̈́̿̽̾̓̚͜c̸̢̨̢̛̛̭͇̠̲̺͙̟͇͉͈͖͊̽̑̀́̌͑͘ļ̷̨̨̧̜̲̘͉̮͚̥̘̬̙͙̲̗̑̿̑̈̿̉̌̃̈́̾̔̀͠ȩ̴̠͚̲̻͗͋͗͌́͆͠ͅ.̵̮̹̥͙́̑̆̍̇̑̓̾̇͘͝͝ ̵̧̛̖̭͎̹̮̯̦̟̀̕͜Ĩ̷̢̜͔̫͈͚̯̤̦̱̟̬̤̰̄̾͜͜f̷̨̱̪̞͕͖̭̞̭̭̦̦̝͔̆̐̉̂͒͌̆̒́̉̔͐͋͂̏̓͘ ̴̛̲̒̃̑̋̓́̎͌̂͒̎̃̚͘t̴̢͎̺̟̮̹̲͍͌́̒̈̃̀͋̿͐h̶̪̯̱̣̹̙̟̟̦̞͖̖͋͌͒͌̿̈̄̈́̃̄͋̑̚͜͠͝͠ͅͅe̷̼̳̻̖̟̟͙͍̰̒͛̐̽̇̊̈́̐̉̊̐̂̽̚ ̶̨͚̅͆̎̈́́̏͐̍̃́̔̊͛̚͘͝͠c̷̢̢̳͓͕̟̼͕̜̪̞̗̺̤̈́̎̃̈́̒́h̷̢̺̜̳̖̜̟̮̎͆̆̇͘o̵̡̳̬̭͕̝̝̙̤̭͔̬̬̦͐̇̽͗̀r̸̡̛̜̲̭̘̈́̏͗͛̀͘̕̕d̶̳̣̯̩̼̝̹̖̱̠̹̗̖̳͍͚͗̈́͋̈͆͜͠ ̴̦̯̪̮̗̮͕̣̟̙̱̫̿̿͛̋̋͑͌̂ͅp̴̡̧̩͇̲͙̗̬̖̮̮̳̥̩͉̀͆́̈̎̑̀̽̀̚͝a̷̧̡̱̟̪̱̙̪̝̤̼͔̦͚͐̽s̷̡̳͕̮̟̲̱̲͆̇̓̔̏̔̋̉̏̿̚̚͘͠ṣ̵̻̖̣͈̘̦̝̝͂́̑̋͆́̊̽͊̎e̸̢͖͕̝̰̠̼̙̣̺̮̹̩͑̄̈́̀̒̍͛̾͜s̷͈͚̼͍͇̦͍͖̜͇̫̯̥̑̄͆̋̉̊̆̓͜͝͝ ̸̢̧̟͉̹̘̯͉͓͉̮̗͗̈̊͂̉́̋̔̾͘̕͠t̴̡̛̩̱͖͎h̷̰͑̐̈́͂͛̊̒̇̈̒̅̈́̒͗̔̈̓ṟ̸̨̨̊́̈́͌̈́̿͐̉͠͝ợ̷̢̨̢͙͙̰͔͙͙͈͇̝̤̪͓͌̇̊̑̀͐̉̚ư̶̛̗̖̾͆̓̇͆̓͊͋̋̈́̆̒̉̚͠ģ̸͇̪͖̦̱̟̬̩̞̳̖͙̥̈́̔̿h̶̡̧̢̖̥̜͖̟̤̒͐͜ ̵̡̳̖̱͍̏̓̾̂͆̊̌̈͘t̵̗̘͕̳̺͎̊̈́͘h̴͎̭̯̩̜͙̩̿̇̉̀̓̾̀̔͂͝e̵̛͉̔̋̈͛̅̋̉̎̀́̓̈͌̿ ̸̡̢̬̝͈̟̭͙͎͙̪͕̣͎̺̞͍͒̅͊̉̀͋̈́́̏̂̀c̶̬͉̻͔̞̙̟͇̱̟̥͖̜͇̀̐́̂͆̊̑̽̊́͘e̷̛̯̰̘͕͇̬̼̳͒̓̐͛̂́̐̂̀̎͌̈́̽̚͘n̴̬̬͎̰̱̰̣̗͕̬̽̋̑̅̉͗͒̾̌͒̐̈́̚̕͘͘͜͜ͅṫ̵̢̳͈͎͖͔̣̫͔̩͗͑e̵̡̛̞̺̝͙͓̝̠̫͙̺͉̮̱͎̦͋̓̂̄̓́̈́͊̃̀̕̚ͅȓ̷̢͕̫̘̦̗̪̻̼̘̟͌̊̎̏̅̕̕͝ ̵̛͎̠̞̰̱͖̮̲͔̬̹̋̆̓̆̋́͐̄̆̍̊̀̇̒̌̒ͅo̶͎̟̖̰̳̯͓͌̉͂͐͋͆̂̄̈́͑́͘͝f̸̹͚̺̜͔̳͕̹̲̥͈̣̯̫̓̊̒̐̍̚̚̚ ̷͇̓̑̐͒͛́̽̇̀̊ṱ̸̬̹̹͇̖̯̥̜͓̊͂̓̂͑̾̃̍͐́̃̋̉͐̈́̅̐͜ͅḧ̴̢͈̀̀́̀͘͠ȩ̵͚̲̬͓̞̗͉̗̥̉̈́͂͛̈́̈́̈̀̈́̂͛̇̇̚̕̚͠ ̵͕͈̭̬͕̀̈̌̐̈́č̵̘̳͗̎͠į̸͚̗̪̬̬̣̤͔̫̈́̂͌̅͌̄̌͐̂̚͝ͅr̶̤̬̠̤̖̫͎̦͔̘̻͈̄͂̂̇̊͂̓̈́͛̈̎̆̿̈̚͜͝ͅc̷̨̡̛̛͇̮̳͇̯̜̲̻̊͑͒̀͒͐͑l̴̢̢͙̻̦͈͉͍̭̏̈́̒̃͑͋̎̒̎͗̇̍̀͋̔͘͜e̶̛̖͍̍̿̈́̒̀͒̀͐̑̐͋͜͝ͅ,̷̡̫͙̭͍̘̝͙̝̫̹͚͐̿͛̎̓͋̿̏͘ͅ ̷̱̟̮̗̭̼̫̰̝̱̼̦̲̟̰̰͛̒̋͌̿̐̽̊ͅi̴̢̧̜̩̹̲͎̠̬̹͔͕̭͖̖̜̒̊͒̎t̵̢̳̞͍̠͕̖̤͍̂͒̂̔̊̒̕ ̸̱̩̱̫͈̝͎̥̫̆͆̀̕î̴̖̤̼̤̄̽̐͆̓̉̾̈́͆̓̕ș̴̦́̿̌̔̆́̋̈́̇͝ ̴̡͔̦̯̭̮̬̮̜̬̠͓̅̊̀͑̀̈́̔̄̋̀̿̀̀͝ͅć̷̨̡̪͇̭̬͔̝̳͎̤̣̅͋̓͝a̵̧̨͍̼̺̜͖̬͇̲̹̪͈͚̞̔͐̓̍̐l̸͈̮̬̟̦͇̯͍̏͌̆̂͒̌̽̈̕̕̚l̴̙̻̠͕̥̈̒̈́̊̌͐e̶͍̫̖͍̤͓̊͛͋́͐͊̉͘̚͝d̶͍͉͒̑͗̍̋ ̶̧͖̼͕̗̜̳̹̣͇̰͕̀̑t̸̛̛̟͇̝̆̈͆͗͒̒͠͠h̴̛̹͈̪̫̞̘̄̑̈́̿̉͌̔́̀̃̽̀͝͝e̵̡̧̜̘̪̞̮̻̤̭͓̥̬̬̋̑̅͆̑̇̋́̽̎͂͗̉̄̚͝ͅͅ ̷͙̀̄͘d̸̼͙̺̫͙̘̱̼͛̃͛̽̄̈́̊͂̚i̷͈̝̟̳̣̟̳̗̺͈̮̜͖̱͆̈́̀̔͋͊͑̃̂̑͑͑̽ͅa̷̟͆̽͒͌̓̈͐͐̃͑̋̆̊̈́̇m̶͍̰̙͈͎̜̜̭͊́̈́͑̽̽̀̄̿́̀͘̚ė̵̛͔̰̋̇̈́̔̈́̆̾͗͗̔̀͠t̴̨͚̜̟̣̣͕͑͐͛͌̏͂̽̈́̽̓̏͘͘e̴̡̢̜̺̲͚̙̜͛̈̾̽̓͘r̴̛͇̦̘̯̲̀̇̐̈́̓̒̃͗̈́̎̌̋.̸̛̛̼̝̫̯̻͉̲̯̪̟͋͂͂̂͆̅̊̇ͅ

So he waited for someone to give them to him, to control him.

Ď̵̡̛̮̣̙̮̗͙̗̙̭͖̎̎͆͐̏̋͒̏́̅̓̕͝ ̶͇̖̮̳̈͂̏̒̌̀͆̂̊̇̓̄̋́́̓͐ḭ̷͙͓͔̞̳̖͕̟̬͔̼̀̓̌̓̎̅̄̈́̐͋͗̊̄͂͜͝͝s̴̨̼̘̜̹͚̻̼̳̯̘͔̠̭̤̻͐̂͐̑̋͗̋̉͝ ̵̨͎̻̩͖̯̫̩̆͗̑̂̓̋͐̐f̸͍̩̻̣̦͖̳͕̩͕̳̭͍̗̓ö̷̢̢̡̨̠͍̜̰̝̮̯̳̣̭̠́͌̆̓́͂͋̾́̋͑̓̽ŗ̷̨̡̬͙̻̟͙̯̮̔̄͂͊̾͜ ̸͖̥͎͎̹̱͍̇̀͂́͊̏͑̏̃̓͗̓͂͆̈́̕͠ḑ̶̥̠̠̞͚͖̹͖̰̪͕͎̲̘̦̾̓̏͆͋̍̍̚͜ì̸̜̗̯̩̈́͘̕͜͝v̵̭͇͓̤̋͐͌͑̎̿̃̏̒̀̓̿̈́͊̀̀͒ĭ̸̖̰̼̩͎̟̤̹̻̣͉̹̝͓̥̞̣̂s̸͈̤̠͎̍ī̸̧̥͙͕̉͂̄͛̕o̶̧̳̹͈̖̟̙̫̠͎͕̙̦̾̋̈́̑̉͑͋͂̇̈́̕n̸̢̧̖̝̘̜̰͖͔̲̠͌̉̓̂͐̉͗͗̀̌͗̐͘̚ͅ.̵̘̠̤̭̬̃̐́̄̈́̆̋̊̾͝͠ͅ ̷̞̥̜̠̟̺̯̜̼̤̿̽̑͛̄̀̒̆̏̈́̕̚͝͝ͅD̸̨̛̦̭̻̹͎̹̣̯̳͎̠̤͑̎͗̽̓̆̒̾į̸̢̻͈̱̱̙̟̥̻̟̳̠̻̿ͅͅv̸̧̯͕̮͕̻̬͇̼͍͠ͅͅí̴̡̥̫̻̠̤̹͙̳͐͐̒̅̈́̈͛̽́̈́̔͘͘̕͘͝s̸̨̧̛̠̥̙͖̭̲̮͕̗̺̲̠̖̭͆͒i̸̧̹͓̬͉͎̓̍̄̓̉̒͜ͅò̴͎͖̳̥̯̲̼̈́̈́͘͜ň̷̰͋̔́̔͝ ̵̢̡̳̳̺̯̺̻̘̗͕̥̲̹̖͕͌̊̀̌̏̓̔̚͝į̷̨̡̡̘͖̙͙̥̪̼͈̹̪̓̍̂̽́̀͛̓͊͊̈́͗̏͘͠s̵̡̛̗͕̖̲̦̤̞̟͈̱̥̃̊̆̇͂̽͋͑̑̑̑̾́̉͜͝͠ ̷̛͔͕͉͍̣̞̬̻͙͔̝̓̈́̎̀̾̚͝ţ̴̧̧͇̝̤̝̱̘͇̟̱̙̣͎̀̌͋̓̒̈̄̾̔͝͝͝ͅͅh̵̨̢͓̟͕̣͈̥̭̰̀͆̌̔̽͠e̵̮̔̅̃͌͌͐͗̐͝͝ ̶̢̪̼̳̣̯̟̲̜̙̲͇̐m̸͖̩̄͂͆̉̑́́͗̇̽̂͑̒̚ả̸͎̤̓t̶̡̪̱̦̬̺̼͚̗͖̩̯͔̞͆̄̀̽͑͑̀̒̋̈́̕͜͝ͅh̴̢̟͉͇̩̟̖̹̹̼̘͍̣̤̣̺̿̈́́͜e̵͓̺̜̟͛ḿ̵̛̬͓̭̹̠̾͘͜a̶͈͎͉̪̦̣͉̣̹͙̺̺͈͊̐̀̀̌͒̈̀̏̏̀͋͐̐͜͝t̶͕̎̈́̽̊̓͒̋͊͘ͅì̸̡̧̢̛̦̥͈̜̓̿̃̕͝c̴̼̃ş̴̲̃̀́͋͑͌̿͂̽̒̀̒̃͘͝ ̴̨̰̪̫̿̒̈́̓́͜o̸̙̯͆͑̍͛͛f̴͉͉̥͍͈̲͑͐ ̶̢̻͉͕̙̙̪̠̼͎̣̈̆̏͊̓̈̾f̷̜͗̇̈́̍̍̊͗̑̕̕a̶̧͍̙͈̞̱͉̯̞̪̖̒̌̇͗̉̓̚͝ī̸͕̦̪̫̓̈́̈̒̍̊͋͑̍̀̊̓͘͝r̴͕̼̤̘̹̹̙͈̝̻̦͖̂͗̉͊̓̋͒̈́̄̒̾̋̾̑̽ ̸̡̖̘̼͕͔̻̃̐̐̄̏̀̓s̴̝̒̀̾͠h̶̢̧̛̛̺͓̳̣̲̫̝͉̞̥̣̦̰̻̊̓̏̇̈́̓͘a̴̢̬̠̘̣͍̮̼͇͔̩͓̦̪͕̽͜ͅŕ̵̭͍͋͛̌̾̂̉̾į̷̧̰̦̺̙̰̯̯̅͐̏̾̽͛̈́̇͗̎͠͠͝n̷̨̢̠͓̗̘̞͖̙̠̝̹̘̳͗͋̀̏̔͊́̓͐̚̚͝g̷̢̘̤̰̭̬̋͋̅͑͌̽̉͊.̸̡̮̩̘͉̤̻͚̜̫̜̞̹̭̮̻̜̋͛̔̀͐̒́ ̸̨̛̛͇̹͕̱̤̭̜͎͔̫͚͈͉͍͎̝̇̇̒̅̓̔̀̍͆̾͝D̷̤͉̻̀į̸̛̰͍͈̹̻̲̩̰̦͕̩͉͙͈̉̅̌͊̓̊̑͑̚̕̚v̸̡̖̱̥͖͎̪̼̙͕̪̳̝̙̼̝̓̂̂̓̑̔̇́̀̏̉̇͒í̷̧͙͙̹͈̱̳̼̩̯̦͓̻̭̽̇̌̅̍̈́̓̈́̐͂͘s̵͍̤̟̘̿͌̅́̊̽̂̂̑ȉ̶͔͙̆́͒͑͌̔̀͗͛̔̓͜͝ô̵̧̦̭̹͖̻̺͔̲͕̲̾͋͆̈͗́̾̀̒̑̆͗̐̾̕͠ͅn̵̢̼͚̲̹͍̙̥͖̻̽̾̈́̈́͒̃̕͝ ̸̢̢̧̫̟̪̙̹̼̪̖̘͔̼͐̑̔̉̇̑̕͜ͅś̵̯͈̠͎̬̮̲͆́͑ȩ̶͇̼̌̃̀̓p̵̥̺̞͚͓̰͎̽̒͗͗͌̆́́̂͆͝à̶̢̛̙̣̮̹͉̰̪͍̦̻͇̭̫̖̽̉͂͑͆͋̈́̿r̷̨̥̹͖̹̳͖̬̥̭̠̚͜à̸̝̭̹̓̃́̇͒̿̚͘t̸̮̜͉̤̆̽̆̿̂͆̕͝ͅe̴͇̭̬̰͔͇̪̦̔̚d̴̡͉͚̱̲̩̙̃̂͋͋̔̌̈͂̒͗̈́͌̓̈̕̕͘ ̶̢̭͉̪̹͔͉̦̩̰̟̽̾̽͋̆̈́͐̂͜͝͝s̷̥̰̗̞̜͕̗̻̪͚̘͓̈́̕͝o̶̡̻̘̰͖͇͕͈̠̯͖͔̍ṃ̸̢̭̫̟̠̝̙̜̭̓͆̐̐͌̀͆̂͂̽̾͜͜͝͝e̴̟̥͕̖͆̇͐ţ̸̢̢̘͈̰̖͚̮̜̯͍̩̳̳̱̤̂̓̓̈́͛̓̓h̷̙̮͌͌̊͛̊̂̑̈́̒̅̄̑͘͝į̸͕̊̅̒̍͂͒̈̊͐̌̒̽̅̚ń̶̡̨̗̥̣̬̬̩̯̮̱̝̼̰̩͙̰̓̈́̃̅͑͗̏́̈́̂̽̆̚͝ģ̷̨̘̖̠̖̪̙̆̈́̇̐̒̅̇̐́ ̶̭̭̞̱͔͙͉͉͖̯͍͑̐̌̏̌͘͜i̸̢̛̖̜͔̲͍̤͙̼̱̫̻͆̊̄͗͛̑̃͜ṋ̸̨̢̭̦͎͔̦̺̤͖̘̩̬̜͂͆̍̚͜t̷̡̡̛̠͔͇̙͕̣͈̠̦̙͖̏́̐͛̇̂͋̂͒͘͜͝͝ͅo̶̢͙̭̬̝̻͇͕͚͒̃ ̴̡̱͈͈̹̩̍͂ë̴̛̛̘̟͎̺͇͕̞̼̜̲̯͇̼͍͉́̃́͐̿̈́̾͛͋͗̂͋͘q̷̛͎̲̜̰͎̍͋͒͊̂͒̉̿̓̅̀͌̏̂͒͠u̶̡̮̖͎̦̽̌̽͒ͅà̶̡̡̭̰̰̺̖̥̼͉͖̹̘̼̈͑͋̉͊͑̑̓̈́͒͂̓͘͜͝͝l̴̢̼̼̥̱̮̲̓̆͌̎̃̓̀ ̶͓̰̉̓̀̐p̸̜̙̬̤̘̻̫͍͕̂̓̈́͆̏̐̚ͅå̸̧̬̳͚̤͍͉̼̬̱͔̿͌̔͛̍͝ŗ̵̢̞̞̺͕̩̯͔̟̖̥̥͓̹̰̿́͗̊̓͊̐̄̈̃̂t̸͈̹̤͋͋̈́̔̽̎̂̀̐͠͝͠s̵̻͍͂̄̏̂̅͌̑̍͊̃̽̀͐.̴̛̛̟̈́̄̈́͊̇̾́̀̏͒͛̆͂͗ ̴̟̙͔̱̥͍̤̖̑̎̉̔̿͊̀̕T̶̢̧̘͉̰̭̝͍̙̬̯̜̮͂͌͊̓̌̌̎̈́̈̔̃̕͝h̴͔͔̝̦̱͍̲͈͇͈͓̤̻̦̟̀͜e̴̡̛͉̮̺̪̭͇͌̓̔̎̽͒̇̔͋̂̇̕ ̵̨̳͈̣̣̤̳̦͙͂̅͂̎͛͑̚͝ͅn̵̘̟̥̂̔̃̓̉͆͝ṵ̵̃͐̈́͆̃̔͊͐̌̿̒̕m̸̧̟̒̇̽͋̈́̚b̷̛̯͎͕̔̿̏̋̄̔̉̐̾͌͒̏̓͘̚͜ȩ̴̨̢̨̛̬̼̲̭̜̯̽͊̇͛̈́͂̌̅̀̓̑̽ͅͅŕ̶̨̫͖̤̫͉̘̥̭̿̾̓͆͝ ̶̪̙̀͛̒͗͋̅̀̍̾͗́͗́̉̈́͘͝ḇ̷̡͐e̵̬̜̪̺̥̥͓̼̬͗͊̃̐̇͑̒̍̔͒̒̕i̸̡̝̜͙̞̝͙͇͓͚̮̬̫͖̬̅͐̿̋̒̓͋̑̕͜͠͠n̶̡̠̻͔̞̞̲̝̮̣͔̝̯̭̐̾̐̌̑͜ġ̶̢̧͚̤͈̪͖̗̻̱͋͌̎̒͑͛͆́͋͆̓͐̋̚͠͠ͅ ̶͚̔ḑ̸̢̝͇̳̳̈̓̈́̈́̽͑̽̔̿́̔̏͂̇̎͘͜͠i̷̮͙̼̟̪̙̺͉̰̬̮̤̣͖͓̇͛͛̈́̂̀̅̅̿̿̏͘ͅv̵͉̤́̽͑̆̀̽̑̎̾̿̏̓͌̇i̶̧͇͕̭̟͙̅́̇̿̏̅̓̀͐̈́̈́͠ͅd̶͉͈̜͙̤͒̈̽͘ͅe̷͍̩̰̮͉̟͉͖̻͈̞̞͎̺̦̒͐͋͗̋̈̈́͆̏̋͂̀̍̊̀́͌͜ͅd̷̡̧̜̘͚̤͖͔̱̜̂̈̒͆͂̀̐̀̏̂̔̽͊̕̕͝ͅ ̴̡̰̤̙̳͓̅i̸̡̛͙̫̹͚̯̹̫͕̮̯͔͌̂̓̏̃͘s̶̱̥̪̥͖̈͛͑̀͋̓̚͝ ̴̛̲̈́̃ţ̸̧̝̫̣̠̬̹̖̼̱̖͍͖̞͕͌͗̀̍ͅh̷̢̜̠̰̝̥̙̝̯̮͍̺̩̠̳͕͋̒̓͐̎͊͝͠e̴͖̤̣̭̫̦̋̀̒̏̑̚ ̴͈̪̱̳͂́̉̍͝d̷̢̧͎̝͔͙͙̽͐͗͜i̵͚̎͛̀͐̄̇͛͗͌͘͜v̶͈̼̭̤̥̩̆i̴̥͕̱̙͔̝̦̮̇́́͜͝d̵̛̟̯̰͈͇͓̗̊̓̈̀̿̇͠͠ͅẻ̴̛͔̮̳͙̝̰̭̖͓̞̠͎̋̏̽́͑͑̇͜͝ņ̶̧͉̺̙̠̠̰̺͖̼̯̜̈͐̊̊̊̇͛̐͆d̸̎̓̿͒̉̐̐̏͆̀͌̊̚͜ͅ.̸͕̦̉͝ ̶̡̟͈̦̘̳̪̘͈̗̻̹̰̇͆̈́͒͋̀̈́͌̔̕̚͝Ť̶̡̝̦̟̘͎̞̼̤̼͎̣̩̪̯͕̈́̈́̓͊̃̓̃͝͠͝h̸̢͈̝͎̬̮͈͔̼͔̥̙̰̹̆̂͐̎͋̆̎̒̿ê̷̢̢̛̮̩̫̥̗͍̟̱͆̉̌̆̄̽͆̎̅͠͠ ̵̧̨͔̦̝̺͓͇̘͙̩̽͂̅̄̊̎̈́͗̍͊̊̈̇͋͘͝ṋ̶̡͎̪̜͆̒͌̚ǔ̵̢̙̫̥̫̘͛̍̑̏͆͌͜͜m̷̧̰̩͓̬̲̘̹͓̘͍̬̯̮̪̉͋̆̈́͂̔̃̓͊͘͝͝ḇ̴̬̺̀̾ȩ̵̡̳̰̤̾͗̀́̈́̓̂̇͝r̷̦͎̘̮̥̻͇̈́̆͐̉̐́̓̓ ̷̡̢͓̩̝̼͕̪̝̟̪̻̻̣̓̈́̓͂̋͑̓̕ų̸̻͖̠̪͍͕͖͚͉̒͒̐̿̐̈́͐̾̇̂̔͌͘s̷̢̧̛̞̞̭̞̪̪͐̈͑̾̊̈́͋̈́̈́̓͆̏̈́̚͝͠ȩ̶̨̞̩̼̼̝̥͍̫͇̝̹̳́͜d̴̨͕̝͙̪͌̿̉̏͂̔͗̓̿͆͒͘͠ ̷̨̨͚̖̲͓͓̗̣̻͕̮̻͕͚̋͆͊͑̒͐͗͘͜͝͠͝ṯ̴̢̨̫̽́̃̇̀̐͛͋̈́̄͘͠ò̴̲̪̩̲͈ ̵͈͖̤̞̬̤̭̜͖͙̗͑̿͊̉̍͝͝ͅd̵̪͍̯̝̹͐̀̍̐͒̽̏̓̈́̐̌̇͒̽̅̅i̷̮̤͙͙̺͖̒̀̋̂͐͘v̵̨̲̓̌́̇̀̎̌̈̋ḯ̶̡̢̩̩̭̜̺̟͚͈̭̖̮͈͔̓̈͑͌̐̀d̸̛̛̦̰͎͍̝̫̰̣̮̦̜̣͙̼͖̪͛͋̂̽͗͐̆͛ͅe̴̞͈̯̭͖̰̭̟͖͔͓̜̒̎͂̇̂̾̓̕͝ ̵͉̳̝̝̬̠͔͔̰̯̹̣̿̀̔̔̏̽̽̔́̽́̓̿̃̔b̴̫̟̰̠͖͓̩̜͉̣͈͉̭̘̖̤̑̂̋̇̆̽͘ͅy̸͉̺̜̘͔͓̣̾̈͊̈́͆̂̔̈́͝ ̶̢̡̧̘̩̼̩̹̭̰͙̪̓̉̑̈́͒̅̈́̚ḯ̶̢͇̮̤͎̥͓̮̠̒̈́͗̈́s̸̡̡̛͎͙̬̘̻͖͓̠̮̩̭̼͂̈̾̈̐̓͛͗̒̽̆͑̋̊͝ ̶͖̘͓̝̠͓͓͔͌͊̿̾̀͐̈́̇̈́͗̍̀̌ț̷̌́́̈̆͂͒̿̀̾́̽͑͘̚͘ḩ̴̯̠̹̪̉̈́̒̐͛̕ë̶̛̻̙̪͔̲̤̪͕̥͔̥̹́̑͋͒̾͒̎̀́͂͒͜ ̴̻̺̗̻̠̥̭̥́͑͒̽̓̿́̏͂̑̕͜d̸̬̙̩͙̩̘͇͎͙̻̞͍͈͉͉̞͊̿̚͜į̴̳͉͎͚̠̤̇̐̈́̍̈́̂̒̿̃͐͐̈́͜v̵̺̮̗͙͇̝̘͔̹͓͂͒i̸̺͗͘ș̴̲͉̩̘͍̀͆̄̂̂̂͛̄̋͂͂̅̽̚͘o̷̧͎͙̜̯̩͔̖̰̻̾͐̽͊̔͒͗̄͑̏̇͋͘̚̚r̶̨̩̗͓̘̖̫͆̎̀̈͜.̴̨̛͓̗̰̘̰͍̈́̑͑̉̂̐̈́́ ̸͓͓̥̄̈́̾͊̔͛͊͌̕͝͝D̷̨̮͖̬̯̱̝͖̤̻͊̊̽i̷̢̧̨̛͈̘̱̭̳̲͔͍̬̬̫̟̳̟̽̀͛͒̊͑͠v̷̲̥̭̜͖̲̼̙̼̱͋̾̍͘ͅͅi̵̜̘͔̽́͑́̍̄͝͝s̵̛̠͙̭̩̭̩̠͎̭̦̺̼͚͉͌̾́́̀̾͊̀͌̐͒̚͝i̷̜̲̘̒̽ơ̸̡̭̺̆̎̃̂̓́̅͂̈̀͗͘n̴͓͙͙̪̜̲͓̦̳͕̗͙̙̝̝̎̋̏̊̏̈́̆̇̀̽͘͠ ̵̩̪̽̈́̅̈́͝ḯ̶̢̢̤͚̫̼͜ş̷̧̛̰̗̥͖̹͚͎̥̯͎̝̺͑͂͝ͅͅ ̴̢̞͇͚͍̞͓̱̪͙̥̼̜̎̋̐͊̏̀̇͌́͜ţ̵̧̤͔̰̦̦̤͉̖̩̀̌̐̍̔́͋̎̔̍̐̑̚͝͠h̷̢̡̨̫̭̺̭̰̼̱̰͔͓̮̳̉͒̒̾̃̀ͅe̸̢̧̢̛̝͔͕̖͈͓̬̘̘͇̯̓̊̎̈́̔͗̈́̅͜ ̵̢̢̲̗̔̒͂͑̆̅i̷̧͔͔̪̬̥̝̭͔͍̹̠̰͐̀̿͒̀̌̋n̵̜̘̩̪̈́́ͅv̸̖̤͇̫͕̯̗̣̿́̀͒͌̎̎̓̉̽̾̋͑̄͘͘͜͝ę̸̧̛̛̫̹̳͍̦̺̓̽͂̏̑̽̐̚ŗ̶̨̧̘͉͍̙͋̀͌s̸̠͌̂̍̀͐̅̉̏̇̎̔̀̄̊̑͠ē̸̪͔̉͊͋͗̌͆͋͑͑̂͛̆̄̈́͠ ̷̢̧̻͙̟͔͙̭͓̗͕̮̫͚̮̯̀̈͗͛͐͛̆͑͗̕͝(̶̢̲̲̤̹̲̳̫̜̩͙̤̝̫̒̐͐̇̒̎̓̀͜͝ò̵͍̯͆̓͑̏͛̂̓͝p̸̰̱̤̊̀̒̌̿̓p̷̲̮̝̑̄̎̿̋̌̈́̎̓̅͋͛͒̓̎̉͜ͅö̸̧̩́̈́̅͂̊̂́̂̾̚̕̕s̴̱̬͓̣̤͔̼̬̭͇̗̳̘̋͆͊͒͛̊̒̄̅̀̄̒̀͜i̸͓͔̫̥̣̐t̴̡̩̲͚̞̃̒̋̀͝ȩ̵͙͚͕̬͖̹̺̬̠̞͕̘͉̬̮̾̓̆͗͊̈́́́̽́͗͠)̸̬͈͙̞̦̥͍͗̇̆͛ͅ ̸̡̢̢̨͔̝̹̦̟͓͓͚̗͕̯̞͍́͆͝o̴̧̲̯̦̠̖͌̅̐̃̾̆̊̐̓̓̉́̈́͘͠f̶̧̢̭̻̦̥͈̮̪̺̫̘̑̂͂͂̌͑̓͒̕͠͝͠͝ ̴̢͉̤̻̲̟̙̝̼͓̳͎̖̇̊̓̐̆̎̈́̿̍̚ͅm̴̨̨͚͍̫̥̣̦̺̼̤̻̗̝͆̑̉́ͅͅư̶̡̭̲͈̻͓̓͛̊̈͜͜l̶̨͚̞͖̮͚̈́̕ţ̶̛̟͉̬͔͕̖͍̑̑̓͠i̷̡͔̖̩̤̜̙̗̮̘̰̥̤͚̩̤̋͋̍͑̓́͐͌̚̕͝ͅp̶̢̨̻̩̳̼̟͓̥͓̯̎́̐̈́́̄́͜l̷̲̘͈͈͙̥̮̱͕̥̈́̔̂̈̑̈̐͠ḯ̵̢̪̦͖̐̔͒̃c̵̫͖̣̞̗͍̙̜̤͇̦͔̟͎̜͌͜å̴̗̬͆t̵̡̢̡̺̖̣̳̘̰̻̟̯͖̆͗̚͘ͅì̸̲̭̇̍o̷̡̗͙̪͓̹͇̙͙̘̭͒͑̓̇͜n̴̯̲̊͗͊͒͋̀̆̌̊͒̃̎̊̾̕͘.̷̛͔̞̀̅͆̃̈̈̌͐͐̓̀̉͝͝͠͝

Because he could not control himself.

Joel

     Joel left to grab food for dinner, bringing a bottle of honey and a loaf of bread for Etho and some chicken for himself.

     “Hey, I'm back,” he called out to silence. There was no reaction from Etho, who was still sitting in the chair, quivering. “Etho?” There was again no answer. 

     Joel sighed, pulling up a chair, and taking out the food. “I got you a loaf of bread, unsliced, just like you like it,” Joel said, voice dying out, “Ok, honey it is, I guess.” He poured the honey down Etho’s throat, making sure he swallowed it before starting on his own meal. He put on some music to fill the gaping silence, though it only put leaves over the hole.

     He finished, cleaning up the bones and turning the music off. The quiet left room for his thoughts, which tonight were filled with what Grian had told - no, shouted - at him. ‘ You're mad at her for something that she doesn't know she's done. ’ The words raced through his head. He tried to shut them out, but they would not leave. 

      You have your knife .

     No, I can't leave Etho alone.

    ‘There's something wrong with you.’

      Just be quick. It'll be faster than you getting food.

     Joel walked over to the room’s exit, muttering, “I'll be back,” though he knew Etho could not hear him.

-

       Fine.

     He pulled out some bandages and rubbing alcohol, sitting in the corner. He pulled out the knife, setting it in front of himself and rolling up his left sleeve. Just one arm; I need to be fast. 

     He picked up the knife, taking a moment to examine it. The weight was familiar, though it had been several weeks since he last held it. 

     Joel pressed it against his skin, inhaling, then plunging it in. He sliced through his own flesh, biting back a scream. He left the knife in, dwelling on the sting of the iron until the entire area burned like hell, then pulling it out, watching the gold gush from the wound. 

     He took a moment, trying to catch his hyperventilating breath, then cut himself once more.

     By the time Joel finished harming himself, there were only five wounds. They were few, yes, but their iron-seared depth made up for the lack of quantity. His arm was covered in blood, which had soaked into the floorboards as well. His face, in turn, was coated in tears, which still leaked from his eyes as he cleaned and treated the cuts, covering them up in bandages. He wiped off the knife, placing it back in his inventory so no one would find it.

-

     He wiped the tears out of his eyes, reentering the room and making sure Etho was still alright. He was still…dissociated. That’s probably the right word. 

      Joel took out a bed, setting it up in the room in case Etho needed him. He relaxed, or tried to, for a bit, then laid down to sleep.

Chapter Text

Joel

      Joel woke up to his alarm reminding him to give Etho the potions. He pushed himself up, groaning, pulling off his sleeping mask, and rubbing his eyes. 

     He blinked off the drowsiness, looking around. He hoped to see Etho had moved, or was at least asleep, but he was met with Etho still sat twitching in the chair, eyes far away.

      Joel's breath caught for a moment. Etho should have recovered by now. Am I doing something wrong? He finished giving Etho the potions, then pulled up his comm and called Mumbo. With Grian busy staying with Gem, his sleep schedule was back in its natural state of coffee, so Joel figured he would not mind helping. 

     It was about 6:15 am when Mumbo arrived. Joel explained everything, then took off on his expedition. Surely someone here has to know something that could help.

***

     That afternoon, Joel walked in, sitting down in the chair next to Etho. He had texted Mumbo before he arrived, so it was just the two of them.

     Joel’s voice was somber and slow as he spoke, “So I'm gonna say this out loud because Wels said there's a chance you can hear me. I, uh, I went around and talked to all the hermits to see if I could gather some, um, information on how to help you wake up. I went around and, um, between the trauma, the control, and, uh, Gem, they said…” Joel trailed off, taking a deep breath to gather himself, “they said you might not ever come back. So I-I’m just letting you know in case, um, in case you can hear me.” Joel took a deep shuddering breath, turning his gaze to the side to hide the tears welling up in his eyes. “Who am I kidding? You probably can't h-hear me at all.”

     Joel gave into the tears, wrapping Etho in a hug he knew would not, would never , be returned, “Fuck, Etho, what am I going to without you? I c-can’t, I can’t…” his speech broke down into shuddering sobs. He cried for what felt like hours while Etho shook silently against him. 

     When he pulled back his hands were shaking like leaves. The crying had stopped, but his breath was still erratic. Despite the shaky hands, Joel reached into his inventory and pulled out a piece of black fabric. 

     “G-gem got rid of your ori-ginal mask, so I, uh, got you one,” Joel said as he pulled the mask over Etho’s head, “th-that way, even if y-you don't have control, y-you can at least have this.”

     Joel started to pull it up, but something changed. The shaking stopped and Etho’s heterochromatic eyes focused on Joel's face. He reached up, gently touching his hand, then pulled the mask up himself.

     Joel gasped, too stunned to say anything as Etho wrapped him in a hug.

     “Thank you for giving me back my control,” Etho said, squeezing Joel tighter. Joel hugged him back, and the two were together. Together again.

     A minute or so later, Etho pulled back, asking Joel, “What happened?”

     “How much do you remember?” Joel queried.

     “It's all kind of hazy. I remember a deer thing taking me. Then I woke up and I-I was strung up. And then it…it kept commanding me and it hurt and I lost control…” Etho’s eyes unfocused again and he started hyperventilating.

     “Etho, stay with me, ok? You’re alright. You won't get hurt again. Take deep breaths,” Joel instructed. 

     Etho did as instructed, maintaining some calm as he asked, “What happened after I lost control?”

     Joel responded with his own question, “How much do you really want to know?”

     “Everything.”

     Joel explained everything he knew as requested. Etho remained silent up until he mentioned Cleo removing the wire in his mouth.

     Etho reached his hand up to his mouth for a moment, then stood up quickly, rushing out of the room.

     “Etho?” Joel called after him, jumping up and following. Did I say another command?

     “I need a mirror,” Etho responded, not stopping his search, “I need to see what it did to me.”

     Joel thought back to how scarred his face was and how much he hid it, then said, “I'm not sure that's a good idea.”

     “No, I need to.” He continued his search, checking every room he could. 

     Joel sighed, pulling out his comm and handing it to him, instructing, “Use the camera.”

Etho

     Etho turned away from Joel, opened the camera, and held it up to his face, his horrible, hideous face. 

     A new scar was forming where Joel had said the wire had been, disfiguring his already damaged face further. The left side of his jaw and right cheek bone bore new hooks, though they were not nearly as neat as the original hooks. The edges were ragged and showed visible stitches. 

      The beast was right. I look monstrous. 

-

     Etho reached up, digging his nails into his skin, attempting to claw it all off and tear his visage anew.

-

     Joel rushed over, grabbing his arms and pulling them away from his face. “Don't do that please,” he asked, his voice tinged with pain. 

     Etho turned to the side, once more pulling his hands to his face, though this time simply to protect Joel from it. 

     “Don't look at my face,” Etho pleaded. 

     Joel responded, “It's ok, I've seen you without your mask.” 

     “Who else has?” Etho demanded.

     Joel did not avert his gaze, answering, “Gem, Cleo, Grian, Xisuma, Scar, and I all did.”

     Etho inhaled sharply, digging his nails into his skin. He sunk them deep, nearly drawing blood before Joel once more pulled his hands away, holding them in his.

     Etho twisted his face as far around as he could, but he knew it was futile. Joel had already seen his face. Contrary to his expectations, however, he did not shout or scream.

     Instead, he stated, “There is nothing wrong with your face.”

     Still not daring to meet his eyes, Etho responded, “Yes, there is. It said so constantly. It said I was hideous.” He said this with an eerily stable certainty.

     Joel let go of Etho’s hands, which he started to bring up to his face once more.

     “Wait, don't do that,” he stopped, “Can I touch your face?”

     Etho paused, then nodded.

     Joel reached up, cupping Etho's face in his hands gently. 

     “Etho, listen to me, you are not hideous. Your scars are part of you, and you are a beautiful person.”

     “Why would you lie?” he asked flatly, not daring to meet his gaze.

     “I'm not lying,” Joel insisted, “You're beautiful, I mean it.”

     Etho finally turned his gaze up, looking Joel in the eyes. His expression was honest, and he gave Etho a small smile.

     He continued to hold Joel’s gaze, finding it brought him strength. 

     After a few moments, he relaxed, saying, “I'm sorry, I just…” he trailed off, not knowing how to contain the million things he wished to convey in words.

     Joel replied with a calm understanding, “It's ok. Stuff’s changed, I get it. If there's anything I can do, just let me know.”

     Etho stepped back, nodding and offering his thanks, before wrapping Joel in a hug.

Joel

     Once the embrace ended, Etho asked, “When’s the earliest Cleo or Doc can come over and remove the hooks?” 

     “Probably tomorrow,” Joel answered. You're going to have to talk to everyone then. They probably all hate you, his mind whispered. 

     “Ok.”

     “Oh, and, before I forget, take these every six to eight hours,” he said, handing the potions to Etho. Etho nodded, taking the potions into his inventory. “By the way, have you gotten anything to eat?”

      Etho shrugged, answering, “Not hungry.” Joel found this a tad curious, but was distracted by Etho's next question, “Do you have a bed I could use?”

     Joel grabbed him one and placed it. 

     “Thanks. I'm exhausted.”

     “Yeah, I bet. I'm probably going to go to sleep soon, too.”

     They exchanged good nights, then Joel walked into his room.

     He changed into something more comfortable and got ready to sleep, but something was stopping him from sleeping. He could not hear Etho’s normal peaceful snores, but upon checking on him he was asleep. You should be too. And he wanted to be, desperately. Today had been exhausting, both physically and mentally, but the previous events kept playing in his head.

      Joel paced back and forth. He still felt guilt, crushing, pounding guilt at what he had said to Gem. It just would not leave his head. He knew he should go talk to her and apologize, but he couldn't. Not right now, not in this headspace. Maybe that made him selfish. Scratch that, he was selfish. Selfish for even saying that to Gem, selfish for not dealing with it, selfish for putting himself and his needs before everyone else's. 

     And yet here he was, despite knowing being here was selfish of him. Here, not dealing with the problem or apologizing, here. 

-

     Before he even knew what he was doing his knife was in his hand, the metal cold as always. The previous wounds were just starting to heal. Maybe I should just let them heal , the kindest parts of his brain thought. 

      No, I deserve this for the pain I’ve caused. 

     He placed the blade on the skin of his left arm, hesitating for just a moment and thinking, I should go get Etho. He wouldn't want me to do this. 

      No, just do it. You deserve this, and Etho would probably just confirm that. Besides, you don't need to wake him, that would be even worse than what you're doing. Just shut up. 

     Before he could hesitate, he sliced deep into his arm, reveling in the pain.

-

Chapter Text

Grian

      I messed up.  

     That was Grian's first and only thought as he flew out of Joel's base and headed towards his own. He heard Gem call his name, but he didn't turn back. He would only make things worse if he stayed there.

      I messed up, he thought guiltily. I lashed out at Joel. He's already not in the best state. I've probably just made things much worse than they already are. Is he going to want to talk to me anymore?  

     Grian landed on his fishing dock, needing something to do to keep his mind off of everything. He picked one of his fishing rods and cast it out into the moonlit river, but his heart wasn't in it. His mind dwelled on Joel and how he could possibly make it up to him. If, his mind whispered.

     He wanted to go back, to apologize to Joel, but he didn't know if that would make things worse. Grian sighed.

      I'll check on him tomorrow, Grian decided after a while. If he lets me talk to him.  

***

     Grian woke up the next morning immediately ready to go to Joel's. He threw on some proper clothes and an elytra, then flew to where he'd been the day before.

     He gently knocked on the door, calling, "Joel, it's Grian." He had no idea what he was going to say if he answered, but he had to start somewhere.

     A few moments later, Joel opened the door, asking with hardly any emotion, "Yes?"

     "I…” Grian took a deep breath. "I just wanted to say I'm sorry. For what I said yesterday. It wasn't right. I shouldn't have lashed out like that."

     "It's okay," Joel answered flatly, not believable in the slightest. "You weren't lying."

     Grian shook his head. "No, I was wrong. I understand your anger, especially after what happened to Etho. I shouldn't have been angry and I'm sorry."

     "It's okay ," Joel repeated gruffly. "Anything else?"

     Grian sighed, then shook his head again. "That's all I came for. If you or Etho need anything, let one of us know."

     Joel didn't respond, instead reaching to close the door. Grian was about to turn away when Joel's sleeve slid up his arm just a bit. Joel reached quickly to pull it back down, but not before Grian saw five fresh cuts on his arm that looked rather deep. Grian gasped.

     "Joel," he started quietly, "did you…."

     "It's nothing," Joel insisted quickly, pulling 

his sleeve up. "Nothing."

     "It's not nothing, I can tell," Grian said gently. He knew self-harm when he saw it, and Joel showed all the signs. "Is it because of what I said to you?"

     "It's nothing ," Joel repeated. "Leave me be. It's fine. I'm fine." He felt a stab of guilt and sympathy.

     " Goodbye, Grian," Joel said forcefully, and he closed the door.

     Grian raised his hand to knock again, but he pulled his hand back. He doesn't need or want me here right now. I'm not going to make him feel any better. Casting one last glance at the door, Grian flew to Gem's base, needing to tell someone what Joel had done to himself.

     Grian was hit with a sudden feeling of panic. Gem can't be by herself, and she's been alone for a full day. What if something's happened? Again?

     Grian looked around anxiously and was relieved to see Gem looking completely normal and building a plant-covered dock for her boats.

     "Can I talk to you for a moment?" Grian asked her once she was within earshot. "We need to talk." Gem nodded, dropping what she was holding in a nearby barrel and walking over to Grian.

     "What is it?" she asked.

     "I've just gone to visit Joel," Grian said. "To apologize for lashing out yesterday. He seemed upset, which I can understand. I would be in his place, too. He went to close the door, and…there were cuts on his arms. They looked intentional."

     Gem gasped quietly, laying one of her hands over her mouth. 

     "Were you able to talk to him about it?" she asked.

     Grian shook his head. "No. He said he was fine and made me leave."

     "When was this?"

     "Only ten minutes ago," Grian answered.

     Gem let out a long, shaking breath. "I'd try to help him, but I think I'd only make it worse," she said after a few moments. "Do you know if Etho's recovered at all? Joel might listen to him."

     Grian shook his head helplessly. "I haven't heard anything, from Joel or anyone else."

     "We could have someone else check on him," Gem tried. "Someone he trusts."

     "Etho's the only one he really trusts," Grian told her. "He trusts you, too, but…I don't want to risk anything happening again."

     Gem nodded understandingly. "I'm sorry," she apologized. "All of this is my fault. Etho being in this state, Joel hurting himself, it's my fault and I'm sorry. I don't know what I've done and it's awful and I'm really, really sorry."

     "Gem, don't blame yourself," Grian told her gently. "You didn't have control over yourself. I've been in the same place. When you don't have control, you can't change what you do. It's not your fault this is all happening."

     "But I let it have me," Gem said quietly. "I let it take my mind and do all of this. I wasn't strong enough to stop it." Gem sniffled, and Grian felt a pang of sympathy for her.

     "There's nothing that you can do to stop it," Grian told her. "Believe me, I know. You fight and you fight but, in the end, it always wins. You couldn't have stopped it, nobody could."

     Gem looked up at Grian, but didn't speak immediately.

     "Grian, I…I'm afraid," she whispered after a moment. "Afraid of what I've done, afraid of what I'll do, afraid of myself in every way. I don't know when it'll happen, and I don't know when it'll stop, and I'm scared."

     "We're here for you, Gem," Grian told her. "We will do everything we can to help you."

     "Promise me you won't let me hurt anybody else," Gem blurted. "Whatever you have to do to stop me from hurting anyone, do it. Whatever . Even…even if it means you have to kill me."

     "I don't know if you'll respawn in that form," Grian said anxiously.

     "It doesn't matter. If it comes to it and there's nothing else you can do, promise me you'll kill me," Gem said, looking Grian straight in the eye.

     Grian shook his head. "No, I won't kill you."

     " Promise me, " Gem repeated, stronger.

     Grian took a deep breath. I shouldn't. I shouldn't promise her something like that. Not when I don't know if she'll come back. But…it's what she wants. She doesn't want to hurt anyone else.

     "I…I promise," Grian vowed hesitantly. "I hope it won't ever come to that, but if it does.. I'll kill you."

     "Thank you," Gem told him gratefully. "I don't want to hurt anyone again. Make sure the others know that." Grian nodded, not having a good response.

     "We should tell X about Joel," Grian said awkwardly after a few moments to break the tension.

     Gem nodded and said, "Okay. Do you know where he is?"

     Grian shook his head and took out his comm, typing, ‘x where are you’ and waiting for a response. It came a few moments later, saying, ‘At my copper shop.’

     "Let's head over there," Grian told Gem.

     "You're the one that saw Joel. You should be the one to tell X," Gem said.

     "You can't be alone," Grian reminded her. "Wherever I go, you have to come."

     "Okay," Gem agreed. "Let's go."

     The two headed over to the shopping district in silence until they arrived at X's shop. X was leaning against one of the poles - or, at least he was until he subsequently lost his footing and fell, then stood back up and promptly corrected his posture.

     "Can we talk to you for a few minutes?" Grian asked, motioning his head for X to follow him.

     "Yeah, sure," X responded.

     Grian led X and Gem to Gem's moss shop, trying to find a more private place to talk to X.

     "Is everything ok?" X asked, then quieter, "Is it Joel or Etho?"

     Grian nodded. "I've just found out something," he said in a low voice. "Joel…he's been hurting himself. Badly, by the looks of it. He shooed me away before I could ask anything else." X gasped quietly.

     "We need someone to check on him," Grian explained. "Gem and I would go, but neither of us would help him get any better. We'd only make it worse. We figured that, since you've known him for longer and that you've felt the same way, you could help him better than we could."

     X nodded, thinking. "I'm glad you came to me," he said after a moment. "I'll see what I can do."

     "Thank you," Grian told him, as did Gem a few moments later. Without another word, Grian took off towards Joel's base and the other two followed.

     X took the lead once they landed, gently knocking on the door and calling Joel's name. When there was no answer, he pushed the door open.

Chapter Text

Joel pov

     Joel froze when he heard a knock on the door followed by X calling his name.

-

      If I don't answer, he'll think I'm not here and he'll go home, Joel told himself.

     Joel plunged the knife into his arm again, biting back any noise that he might make that would alert X that he was home.

     "Joel?"

     Joel jumped, whipping his head towards the source of the noise.

     It was X, standing a few yards away from Joel.

     "Bloody hell," Joel mumbled, grabbing the handle of the knife and pulling it out of his arm. The cut was about an inch deep, and golden blood poured out of the cut where his knife had been.

-

     X stepped towards him and Joel took a step back.

     "Joel…" X started.

     "Go away," Joel told him, a little harsher than he meant to. Great. Now I'm going to make someone else feel awful. "I'm only getting what I deserve."

     "Is that what you think you deserve?" X  asked.

      Why? Do I deserve more? Joel wondered. I suppose I could cut more than just my arm if that's what I need to stop hurting other people.  

     "Yes," Joel answered, remembering X's question. "I've hurt Gem. I'm selfish for trying to take care of myself. I'm selfish for lashing out. I'm selfish for letting Etho get taken. Now I'm giving myself that pain that I caused them. It's only what I deserve."

     X walked closer to Joel until he was right in front of him. Joel stiffened a bit, but he wasn't really sure why; after all, if Xisuma hurt him, it would only be what he deserved. 

     Catching Joel off-guard, X reached towards his helmet and flipped up his visor, giving Joel a clear view of his eyes.

     Joel gasped quietly, from surprise more than anything else. Xisuma's eyes looked like eyes of ender, mixes of green and blue. Joel could also see, though barely, deep blue markings across his face that looked like scars, radiating a dim glow.

     "I know how you feel," X said quietly. "I've hated myself for so long for all the things I've been told are wrong with me. And, I'll admit, at certain points I hurt myself, too. I'd thought it was just what I deserved.

     "Years ago, though, I found these lot. They've shown me to love myself. It still hurts, all the things I've ever been told, but I can take care of myself now. 

     "What I'm trying to say, Joel, is that you don't deserve this. I know you think that you do, but trust me, you don't. You're just as worthy as any of us, and we care about you, okay?"

     Joel swallowed back any response that he might have and merely nodded. His mind was fighting between acceptance of X's words and his own instincts of ignoring him and telling himself that X was lying.

     "Please give me the knife," X asked Joel. "I don't want you doing this to yourself any more."

     Joel reached into his inventory and grabbed the knife. The weight of the blade in his hands felt familiar, and for a moment he felt himself holding his breath.

     "But…" Joel started, but he didn't know how to finish.

     "Give me the knife," X repeated, a little stricter than before.

     Joel let out a deep breath and, with shaking hands and arms that were still soaked in his own golden blood, handed the knife to Xisuma. Xisuma took it, inspecting it for a moment before settling it back in his own inventory.

     "Thank you," X told Joel. "I don't want you hurting yourself. If you ever need anything, please let us know." Joel nodded, though he didn't know if he was actually planning to uphold that promise. 

Etho pov

     Etho blinked open his eyes from a sleep that he hadn't had in so long. Here, he was safe. Here, there were no commands. Here, he had Joel.

      Joel.

      Where is he?  

     Etho listened for any nearby voices and heard X's, though not Joel's.

     He stood up, heading towards where he heard Xisuma's voice. His steps were still lazy and crooked from exhaustion, but they were his own.

     Etho walked into view and immediately saw X and Joel. "X?" he called groggily. "What're you doing here?" 

     X turned to him with surprise, but this observation was overshadowed when he noticed Joel's arm was covered in blood.

     All of Etho's exhaustion disappeared in a moment and he rushed over, taking one of Joel's hands in his own. He felt a drop of blood on Joel's hand, and he felt a pang of sympathy for him.

     "What happened?" Etho asked quietly, though he already knew the answer. 

     Joel was silent, but X didn't answer for him, which Etho appreciated. This was something for Joel to tell him, not someone else. 

     "I…I cut my arm. Pretty badly," Joel answered quietly. "I hurt Gem, and I'm just giving myself what I gave her. Like Grian said, there's something wrong with me."

     "No, there's not," Etho told Joel gently. "There's nothing wrong with you. You're perfect the way you are, Joel."

     "Then why would I say that to Gem?" Joel exclaimed. "I told her that it was her fault even though she had no control! Imagine if I refused to talk to you over something that you couldn't control! Then what? Would you keep thinking I was perfect? Would you keep thinking I was worthy of any of this?"

     Etho looked Joel in the eyes, but rather than answering, he pulled him into a hug. It took a moment for Joel to acknowledge it, and then he returned the hug.

     "Yes, of course I would," Etho told him quietly. "I don't care what you've done. I don't care what you accuse me of. That doesn't make you any less perfect. After all, we're all only human. We make mistakes. We mess things up. We do things we wish we'd never done. But we're all human."

     Joel sniffled. He hugged Etho tighter, but Etho didn't mind. He needed this right now. Joel needed him.

     "I- we - love you the way you are, Joel," Etho comforted him. X gave him a weird look and Etho added hurriedly, "Not- not in that way. You know what I mean."

     "You're so obsessed," Joel joked quietly, catching Etho off-guard. The fae was still crying, but the fact that he still had enough strength to joke with Etho gave him hope.

     Etho chuckled quietly and responded, "I guess I am."

     "Please, don't you ever worry me again like that, Etho, understand?" Joel said fiercely, despite his tears. "I thought you were going to die."

     "Me, too," Etho admitted. "I was just as scared as you were, though I was more worried what would happen to you without me here for you."

     Joel looked away silently, avoiding eye contact with Etho.

     "Do you want to get that cut cleaned up?" Etho asked him after a few moments.

     Joel hesitated, but then nodded.

     "Come on, then," Etho told him. "X?"

     "I'll go," X said. "I just came to check on Joel. If either of you need anything, let us know." Etho nodded and X walked out the door, and he heard him talk to someone before flying away.

     Etho led Joel to another area of the room and took out what little medical supplies Joel had - some regular and medical bandages, gauze, antacids, pain killers, and some other random long-expired medications.

     "Sit down," Etho told Joel. Joel did so, still not looking Etho in the eye. Etho sat down next to him, now holding a large bandage, a wet rag to clean off the blood, and pain killers.

     "Hold out your arm," Etho said. Joel did, and Etho noticed that he flinched a little, but he obviously tried to hide it. Etho tried to look him in the face, but Joel was still avoiding eye contact. 

     "You're okay, Joel," Etho said gently, though he knew it probably wouldn't do much. "We care about you." When Joel didn't respond, Etho sighed, then began cleaning the blood off of Joel's arm with the rag.

     "Etho, do I deserve to be alive?" Joel asked quietly.

     "Yes, of course," Etho said soothingly.

     "My father gave me that knife," Joel told him, his voice hardly above a whisper. "He gave it to me so that I can punish myself for hurting others, so shouldn't I use it for just that? Why else would he give it to me?"

     Etho recoiled a bit, but didn't stop cleaning the blood off Joel's arm.

     "Because some people think that, if things aren't going right for them, they shouldn't be for anyone," Etho answered after a moment. "Your father sounds like he was one of them, and I'm sorry he brought it out on you. I can't imagine how much it hurt you to have him treat you that way." Etho sighed. "I don't much remember my family. It's been so long. I don't know if they'd even remember me."

     "You're lucky," Joel whispered. "I wish I didn't remember mine. Maybe then I'd be less of a mess."

     Etho opened his mouth to respond, but he couldn't find the right words. It was quite possible that much of what Joel felt was caused by his family, and there wasn't much Etho could do to turn that around.

     "I know there's nothing I can do to soothe the pain your family caused you," Etho said, taking the cloth off of Joel's arm and grabbing a bandage, "but I'm here for you whenever you need me."

     "Thank you," Joel whispered quietly. "You're more of a family than I've ever had." Etho smiled slightly, then put the bandage on Joel's wound.

     "Here, take a few painkillers," Etho instructed, handing them to Joel.

     "But…"

     "Please take them," Etho asked gently. "It must hurt."

     Joel hesitated for a moment, but then nodded. He took the painkillers from Etho, looking at them for a moment before taking one dry.

     "You'll be okay, Joel," Etho comforted him. "Now that you're away from your family, and now that you have us here for you, you'll be okay."

     "I hope so," Joel said, fidgeting with his fingers, "though I don't know if I'll ever be able to recover completely. I've been like this all my life, and…I don't know if I'll be able to change. I'm sorry."

     "Don't be sorry," Etho said. "All I want is to help you."

     "Thank you," Joel whispered again. "Thank you so much, Etho. For everything. For being here. For caring about me when no one else does. For teaching me how to love myself. Thank you, thank you, thank you, Etho."

     Etho couldn't help but smile. He didn't think highly of himself, but Joel's words gave him a little hope that, maybe, he'd be okay. Maybe they'd both be okay.

     "Will you promise me you'll never hurt yourself again?" Etho asked gently.

     "I'll do my best," Joel answered. "Something always comes up where I feel that I'm not good enough, or that I'm a disappointment, but I'll do my best."

     "Thank you," Etho said genuinely. "I care about you, Joel. Any time you feel this way, let me know and I'll drop whatever I'm doing to help you."

     "Thank you so much, Etho," Joel said again, and he pulled Etho into a hug. Etho returned it gladly. This was what helped Joel.

     Joel backed out of the hug, asking, "What about you? Are you feeling ok?"

     Etho shrugged awkwardly. "Okay as I can be, I guess," he responded. "It hurts, but I'll be alright. I have to be, right?" He smiled falsely, but it disappeared in a moment. "I have to be," he repeated, trying to convince himself it was true.

     "Yes, you will," Joel reassured him. "I don't think I'd be here without you."

     “We can be there for each other,” Etho said, now actually smiling. 

     “Yeah, we can. Thank you.”

     After a little while longer of discussion, Etho and Joel both went back to sleep.

Chapter Text

Etho

     Etho awoke screaming at the top of his lungs. He had dreamt of a chaotic haze of half-baked memories that amounted mostly to the sensation of being strung up and the sheer terror of whatever was happening. He immediately checked his body to make sure there were not any new hooks, and luckily there weren't. It has just been a dream.

      Nonetheless, Joel still rushed into the room, exclaiming, “What's wrong?”

      “I…” Etho rubbed his face, steadying his breaths, then said, “Bad dreams. Really bad dreams.”

     Joel raised an eyebrow, stating, “That's what you said last time.”

     “No, this time I know it was just a dream, or it got me high as a kite on hallucinogens.”

     “Are you sure?” Joel asked, to which Etho nodded. “Ok then. If you’re sure, then let’s grab some breakfast.”

     “Really?” Etho asked, checking his comm, “It’s 4 in the morning.”

     “Are you gonna be able to get back to sleep? Because I won’t be able to.”

     “Fair.”

     “So, what do you want?” Joel requested.

     Etho shrugged, saying, “I don’t know. Not really hungry.”

     “You sure? It's been almost 24 hours since you had food,” he noted. 

     “Yeah, I’m not hungry.”

     Joel creased his eyebrows, saying, “Please, eat something.”

     “Fine, I will. What do you have?” Etho replied, caving in. Though he genuinely was not hungry, perhaps it would make Joel feel better.

      Joel walked over to some chests, digging through them until he found something. He tossed the object, a full loaf of bread, to Etho. 

     “Thanks,” he said, catching it. He hesitated for a moment, then pulled his mask down and bit into the bread, while Joel grabbed another piece of bread. He tore it as evenly as he could, then pulled out a flint and steel and lit it on fire. He popped the individual (godforsaken unnatural) slices into his mouth while Etho ate his bread whole like a normal person. 

     However, about halfway through, Etho stopped, starting to feel rather nauseous. He set the bread down, trying to swallow down any vomit. 

     “Are you alright?” Joel asked him, giving him a concerned look. 

     Etho nodded, holding his hand over his mouth. Joel shrugged, turning back to his toast. Another few moments passed before Etho felt more vomit boiling up. Before he could say anything, he rushed outside, throwing up all over the grass.

      On second consideration, vomit might not have been the right word. It was more a strange soup of chunks of bread and something vaguely resembling honey. He gagged the rest up as Joel came outside. 

     “Bloody hell!” Joel exclaimed. 

     Etho turned to him, wiping off whatever was on his face, stating weakly, “I said I wasn’t hungry.” 

     He pulled his mask up, standing and grabbing a nearby stick and squatting back down by the ‘vomit.’ He poked at it, inspecting it closely, “Hey Joel, did you give me honey at any point in time?”

     “Yeah, I did. Why?”

     “Because there’s honey in this.”

     Joel walked over, looking down at it and gagging, “Oh my devs that’s disgusting.”

     “But look, it’s not digested at all. Nothing is. In fact, there’s not any stomach acid in this,” Etho noted.

     “Ok, and?” Joel asked, turning his gaze away from the puddle. 

     Etho paused to think, standing up and casting the stick aside. “I’m not sure.”

     “Right, if there’s nothing else to be gained from this, let’s leave, because this is disgusting,” Joel declared, swiftly turning around and going back inside.

      Etho followed him inside, sitting with Joel while he finished his breakfast. He took his potions, however, seeing as how they had not been in the vomit so he figured he must have absorbed them. 

Chapter Text

Gem

     It was around 9:30 in the morning. Both Gem and Grian were awake. Gem was cleaning up the dishes from breakfast, just wrapping up when she heard a knock at the door.

     “I’ll get it!” she called out, setting the last plate down and walking over. She opened the front door to Etho standing there, he had a neutral expression that seemed to be barricading a storm of other emotions. 

     Gem stood there for a moment, staring, before nearly tackling him in a hug.

     “Umm, Gem?” he asked. Initially, his body froze up, but he relaxed his muscles slowly. “Are you ok?”

     “Yeah, sorry. I thought you were gone. I thought I killed you,” Gem explained, still hugging him tight.

     Etho tentatively returned it, saying, “I'm ok, don't worry. I don't blame you.” 

     She ended the hug, commenting, “It's fine if you do. What Joel said was true.”

     “He feels really bad about it.”

     “Yeah, Grian said he, um, hurt himself because of it.”

     Etho paused, inhaling sharply.

     She raised her eyebrows, asking, “Oh, did you not know?”

     “No, I knew. I just didn't know Grian was telling people,” Etho answered.

     “Yeah, just X and I though,” she responded.

      Etho’s gaze momentarily shifted off far away, as if he was deep in thought, before he focused back in and said, “Anyways, is there any way I could look around where I was kept?”

     “Why?”

     “I need to figure out what happened to me,” he responded cryptically.

      “Did Joel not tell you?”

     “He told me everything he knew but there's more that's come up. Mostly that I no longer can eat.”

     Gem paused, then said, “Right then. I guess let's go.” She turned inside shouting, “Hey, Grian! Come with us!” 

      “Where?” Grian shouted back.

     “To the lab! Etho needs to see it!”

     She heard rapid footsteps approaching rapidly. Then Grian burst out the door, exclaiming, “Oh my Devs, you're ok! I thought you were dead.”

     “Yeah, I've gotten that a lot recently,” he responded. Gem laughed a little at that. 

     “Ok, let's go.”

Etho

     Etho wasn't prepared. He wasn't prepared for the onslaught of memories that flashed through his mind when he reached the bottom of the ladder. He didn't have many memories of the events, or at least he didn't think he did. However, when he looked around the room, the myriad of buried memories surfaced. 

     He paused, taking a second to center himself once more, before walking into the room. The first item he approached was a glass tube in the back center of the room. The door was held open by some basic redstone, leaving the inside open to the air. Within the tube was a collection of hooks and strings hanging from the top, as well as a pool of dried blood at the bottom. The blood stain there was not the only in the room, not by a long shot, but it was certainly the largest. Above the tube was a sign with the words ‘Subject: Etho’ crudely scratched in. 

     Moments, hours, days of agony spent there came back to him in fragments. Time wasted praying someone would save him, until he eventually lost hope, pain he wished to voice, if only he could have moved himself-

      Etho turned away. He could not face all the memories right now. Instead, he moved to the side, inspecting some of the equipment on the tables. 

     There were a few loose hooks, some scalpels and other surgical tools, redstone components, as well as the stuffing you would find in toys, or at least what resembled it. He picked it up, rubbing it between his fingers.

     “What's that?” Grian asked. Etho jumped, startled. Once he realized it was just Grian, he shrugged going back to his searching.

     Finally, he found what he was hoping to find: a book and quill with the title ‘Experiment Notes.’

     He opened it up, scanning over the pages.

Day 1

Daily summary: went in at night and took a possible subject. Did an inspection. It seems suitable. I will prepare tests for it.

Day 2

Daily summary: took the subject again. Resisted, so I used some mild sedatives. Subject appears to have hooks all over body, so I tried attaching some things to them. Subject did not like this.

Day 3

Daily summary: I did more investigation on the hooks. It seems they are like the hooks on a puppet, so I strung it up like one. Also, when I said the word ‘still,’ the subject froze entirely. Upon saying release, it began to move again. More investigation required.

Day 4

Daily summary: I built a machine to puppeteer the subject. It works. This seemed to distress the subject. Also, I have curated a list of commands and what they do. The subject will almost always follow the commands exactly, especially when distressed. I have tuned the machine to puppeteer it through the motions. It once again did not like this. I however am finding this very entertaining.

Day 5

Daily summary: I figured out how to add more hooks. These ones are not as natural as the others, but they work. It might be worthwhile to keep the subject for longer next time.

Day 6

Daily summary: I’ve captured it. I don't think I'm going to let it go either. It is so interesting. And after all, it's my plaything. Why should I have to share? Anyways, I have added some more hooks, including two on the face. Subject did not like having its mask removed. It was screaming, so I sewed its mouth shut. It is quiet now. Also, I am teaching it a new command with ‘safe’ as a trigger word. It is learning quickly. 

Day 7

Daily summary: I want to try something new. Now that it is my subject, I want it to serve its use fully. It is my puppet, so I truly want it to be one. I have decided that it should not need to eat. I have removed any need for it to do so, as well as any capability. For the time being, I'm going to keep the excess organs, though I don't have any plans right now. I have closed the cavity in a temporary way in case I want to do anything else. In other news, my subject is following commands perfectly and immediately.

Day 8

Daily summary: With the success of removing the need for food, I have also decided to remove the need for air. I took out its lungs. However, air will not damage its interior like food would, so I am letting it retain its ability to inhale for now. With this development it needed a better way to talk, so I have created a mechanical voice box for it and replaced the organic one. The voice should still sound the same, if I ever let it talk. Additionally, I thought the chest cavity was rather empty when it was missing almost all of the organs, so I filled it with doll stuffing. The only organ that remains is the heart, because what fun is it if it cannot bleed? The majority of the body is now powered by magic. I might make this mechanical later. I'm very pleased with it so far. It makes for a marvelous puppet.

     Etho set the book back down, trying to process what he read. Is that all I am? A thing? He took a deep breath trying to force down the emotions. 

     “What's that?” Gem asked. She walked over to Etho, noticing his anxiety. Eyebrows furrowed, she asked, “Are you ok?”

     He took a moment, then answered, “I…I need to go.” The subject brushed past Gem, climbing up the ladder without a glance back.

***

     Etho returned to Joel's base, sitting down next to his bed. He ran his fingers over his chest, feeling the forming scar from the incision.

     He remembered parts of it now. It hadn't even bothered to unstring him. It had just moved him to a good operating position, then started. No anesthetics.

      Joel, I need Joel, was all he could think about over the pounding memories. He pulled out his comm, typing out with shaking hands:

You whisper to Smallishbeans: can you come back?

Smallishbeans whispers to you: strings?

You whisper to Smallishbeans: no, just need help. I don't want to be alone

Smallishbeans whispers to you: yeah I'll be over in just a second

Joel

     A few minutes after receiving the texts, Joel arrived back at his base and walked inside. He was met with Etho sitting against a wall, all of the fight taken out of him. 

     He glanced up, saying flatly, “Hey.”

     “Are you alright?” Joel asked, walking over and sitting down beside him. 

     Etho exhaled, “I don't know anymore.”

     “What happened?”

     “I went over to the laboratory. I wanted to find out more, like why I can't eat. And I did,” he replied, “There was a notebook. Lab notes. About me.”

     “Did you read it?”

     “Yeah. It talked about what happened to me, and to some degree why. It wasn't that in depth, but it was enough to…” Etho explained, trailing off at the end.

     “To what?” Joel asked. Etho didn't respond, instead looking to the floor. “You don't have to answer if you don't want to.”

     “It's fine,” he said, “It made me remember what happened.”

      “Do you need to talk about it?” offered Joel after a brief pause.

     “I'm not sure. The memories aren't whole, they're just a scattered mess. To be honest I didn't even think I was aware enough to make memories, but I guess I must have been. I vaguely remember it teaching me a new command, but it's all really hazy. I remember it taking me apart pretty well though.”

     “It did what?”

     “It took out most of my organs. It used the strings to move me into a good position, told me ‘still,’ then just cut into me. No anesthetics, because why the hell would it give me anesthetics. Then it just…took them out. The first time it took everything I need to eat and process food. I guess it must have just sewed up my esophagus or something. 

     “The second time it took my lungs and replaced my vocal chords. It's still letting me breathe, even if I don't need to. 

     “The only organ I have left in my chest is my heart. Something about being more fun if I can bleed. It filled the rest of the space with toy stuffing, which I suppose is fitting,” he finished.

     Joel paused, not entirely sure how to react. Finally, he queried, “What do you mean ‘it's fitting?’” 

     “I don't know. I guess it just makes sense. I'm basically just a doll at this point, why not stuff me like one? It completes the look.” 

     “No, you're not. You're a person, and you're Etho,” Joel countered, trying his best to cheer his partner up.

     “I don’t know anymore. I can't eat, don't have to breathe, I can barely control my own body, and I'm pretty sure if it managed to string me up again I wouldn't…I wouldn't come back.”

     “I’m not gonna let that happen,” Joel swore.

     “How are you gonna stop it? It seems the only reason it let you rescue me was because it thought it would be funny to turn back into Gem.” Etho raised a hand up to rub his scarred eye. Joel noticed just how bad his hands were shaking. “What's the point in trying? It’s already claimed me for itself. It's only a matter of time until it takes me again, and then I'm as good as dead.”

     “I won't let it string you up again,” Joel repeated, “and we'll find a way to get rid of it eventually, alright?”

      “I just…” Etho sighed, “Joel, I don't want to be a thing anymore.”

      Joel assured, “You're not a thing. You're a person, whether or not you need to breathe. You're a person because you have a soul. You are yourself, and I won't let a demon deer take that away from you.” 

     Etho leaned over, resting his head on Joel’s shoulder. “Thank you,” he said, the hint of a smile on his face. 

     “Why’re you thanking me?” Joel asked. It's not like I do anything right.

     “For being here. For rescuing me. For just being yourself.”

     “I-you’re welcome,” he said. Maybe he's right. Maybe I have done something good.

Chapter Text

Joel

     While Etho was having the hooks removed, Joel went over to Gem’s base. He knocked on the door. 

     Grian answered, asking, “Hey, Joel? What's up?”

     “I wanted to talk about yesterday.”

     “What about yester-” he looked down at Joel’s arm, “oh. Yeah, come on inside.” Grian led him inside over to some chairs and sat down.

     “So, what did you want to say? Are you feeling better?” Grian asked.

     “Yeah, I am. X happened to come in, then Etho showed up and helped out.”

     “Good, I'm glad. Is there any way I can help?”

     “Actually, I came to apologize. I don't want you to worry about me.”

     “Come on. You've known me for long enough to know that I care,” Grian responded.

     “I'm fine, really.”

     “Joel…”

     Just then, Gem peeked her head around the corner. “What’cha up to?” she asked.

     Joel opened his mouth, trying to respond, before Grian cut him off. 

     “It's fine, she knows.”

     “What do you mean, ‘she knows?’” Joel inquired, raising his eyebrows.

     “Yeah, what do I know?” she asked, steeping fully into the room.

     “About Joel self-harming,” Grian answered.

     “What do you mean she knows I hurt myself‽ How does she know?” Joel demanded.

     “I told her. How else would she know?” he answered nonchalantly.

     “You can't just tell people that! That's personal!” Joel exclaimed, trying his best not to shout, however much he wanted to. He masked his panic with anger, hoping to conceal his inner turmoil. He knows, she knows, X knows, pretty soon everyone will know and then they'll all hate me! They'll despise every last stupid, fake part of me and they'll hate me. 

     “I'm sorry, I just thought it was the best thing to do to help keep you safe,” Grian said, still far more relaxed than Joel. How does he not get it? No one cares about me, and they won't doubly when they find out.

     “How many more people did you tell? Does everyone know?” Joel asked.

     “I've only told Gem and X, but I can't speak for anyone else.”

     “I haven't told anyone,” Gem piped up.

     “What's the problem with it?” Grian asked. 

     “No one's gonna like me. I'm fucking pathetic.”

     “Yes, they are!” Gem responded, “We all care about you, or else you wouldn't be a hermit.”

     “No, the person they care about isn't real. They care about fun, charismatic, ego-maniac Joel, not depressed, train wreck, cut-himself-to-shreds Joel. What don't you get? No one would care about the real me. Almost no one ever does. Everyone would hate me. You would, too. Fuck, you probably already do.”

     “No, Joel! I promise, I don't hate you!” Gem exclaimed, but it was too late. Joel stood up brushing past her and Grian, and turned back from the door for a moment.

     “I'm sorry you ever had to meet the real me,” he said, before opening the door and flying off.

      Devs, you idiot, Joel muttered to himself, You stupid, stupid piece of shit. Of course he told people! You didn't hide it well enough. Etho knowing was bad enough, but who knows how many people hate you now? 

     He slammed his front door closed, marching over his storage and digging through for his knife, until he remembered that X probably still had it. 

     “Goddamnit,” he muttered, banging his head against the wall. Instead, he grabbed a notebook and some pencils, deciding to draw up plans while he waited for Etho to get back. 

     He sat down on his bed, trying to think of something, anything to distract his mind. He started drawing up a shop, but scrapped it. The proportions were all wrong.

      Come on, you've done this a million times.

     He tried again. This time, the materials wouldn't be able to hold the right shapes.

      Get it done, or are you too useless for even that?

     He tried again. The architecture was all wrong.

      Fucking worthless. Pathetic, useless, waste. You can't even do this? You never do anything right.

-

     Without thinking, he drove the pencil into his hand. He pulled it out, looking down at the mark. It hadn't even broken his skin. He plunged it down again, still not rupturing the skin. 

      And you can't even do this right.

     He tried again. It hurt. Small amounts of blood began to pool in the spot, alongside tears gathering in his eyes. 

      Joel dug the pencil into his hands again. Now he'd done it. Blood flowed much more freely, even though the mark was small. 

     He raised it again and brought it down, but his heart wasn't in it. The rest of his brain caught up.

      Why? Why did you do this? You told them you would be fine. You said you were fine, you liar. You're supposed to be ok. Why aren't you ok?  

-

     He let the pencil fall to the side, then stood up.

      Come on, take care of yourself before anyone else has to.

     He rinsed it out and put a bandaid over it.

      See, you're fine, you idiot. You can just be fine. No one needs to know.

     Joel took some deep breaths, cleaning up his attempted work. Once it was all taken care of, he walked back over to his storage, grabbing a pickaxe and heading out to the mines.

***

     An hour or so later, Joel got a text from Cleo letting him know that Etho was waking up. He messaged them back, letting them know he’d be there. 

     He walked inside Cleo’s base where she and Doc had been working to remove the hooks, finding Etho propped up against some blue pillows. Joel pulled a chair over and sat next to him.

     “Hey, Etho. How are you?” he asked.

     “Mmmm. Face hurts, but better,” Etho responded, slurring his words.

     “Glad to hear it!” said Joel, smiling warmly.

     “‘s nice to have anesthetics for once,” he commented. Joel laughed a little.

     Doc walked in, saying, “Hello, Joel. We gave Etho some short acting anesthetics. Hopefully they'll wear off in the next hour or two. He can walk home though in about ten minutes, as long as you're with him.”

     “Ok, thanks,” Joel said, giving Doc a thumbs up. 

     “Hey Joel,” Etho started, “what’s my face look like ri’ now?” 

     “Both the hooks on your face are gone, and there's some light bandages there, and I'd  guess some stitches. Besides that everything's as it was.”

     “I wanna see.”

     Joel paused, asking, “Are you sure?”

     “Yeah. Lemme see your comm.”

     Joel nodded, pulling out his comm and opening the camera. He switched it to selfie mode and handed it to Etho. 

     He took it, examining his face carefully. His mask was already down from the operation, revealing his old scars. Despite this, he still smiled, running his fingers over the spots where the hooks had been.

     “Thank you,” Etho said, handing Joel back his comm. There was a light in his eyes which Joel hadn't seen for days; hope. 

    “You're welcome,” he answered, taking his comm back, “Feeling a bit more human?”

     Etho nodded. 

     The two talked for a few more minutes until Etho was ready to go home, at which point they walked back to Joel’s base. 

Gem

     After Joel had stormed out, Gem and Grian had waited in silence for a few minutes. Grian eventually got up to leave the room.

     “Wait, shouldn't we like to talk to him or something?” she asked.

     Grian paused, answering, “What are we supposed to do? He doesn't exactly want to talk to us.” 

     “I don't know, apologize?”

     “What do you think that'll do? We messed up, he's mad. He just needs to blow off some steam.”

     “Grian…”

     “Gem.”

     “What if he…?” she started, not daring to finish the sentence. Grian still knew what came next.

     “He can't, at least not badly. X still has his knife. We just need to wait it out, then we can apologize.”

     Gem sighed, nodding. It's probably for the best, she thought. Logically, she knew she should not talk to Joel, but it hurt so much to just leave him like that.

     After Grian left though, she got some condolences. She pulled out her comm and texted X:

You whisper to Xisuma: Did you tell anyone else about Joel?

Xisuma whispers to you: no, of course not. Why?

You whisper to Xisuma: he was worried about everyone knowing. I'll let him know later that you didn't tell anyone.

Xisuma whispers to you: ok, sounds good. 

     Gem spent most of the day feeling better, especially when she heard that Etho got some of the hooks removed.

     That was, of course, until later that night, when she felt the demon take over.

Chapter Text

Etho

     Tap.

     Tap tap tap.

     Click.

      Probably nothing.

     Scrape. Scrape. Scrape.

     Tap tap. Tap.

      Hmm?

     Rustle.

     Etho awoke. Did a mob get in? I thought Joel shut the doors. He opened his eyes and pushed himself into a seated position, waiting for his vision to adjust. It was about 3:30. He scanned the room, finding nothing but the furniture inside. He was about to dismiss it as a dream when something touched his cheek turning him to face it.

     At first, he didn't quite process what was there as it blended in perfectly to the shadows.

     Then, it said, “ He llo , s ub j ect.

     He started to scream, but he quickly covered his mouth, entirely silencing him. 

     “Ah ah ah,” it scolded, “we can’t let your boyfriend hear you. Still.”

     Etho froze up entirely. He willed his body to move, but the fear of the strings was all too real to combat. NO, his entire mind screamed, but he could not vocalize it.

     “Oh, I see you had the hooks on your face removed. Shame, I liked them. They made you sad,” the demon deer said. It reached down into its inventory, removing a needle. 

     “Oh well, I’ll just replace them.” His eyes widened. “Not right now, silly, later. This is to make sure you learn to speak right. See, you don't need to move your mouth to speak. In fact, you don't need to open your mouth at all.” 

     And then it dug the needle into his face.

     “I need you to remember that, because maybe then you'll remember that you're no longer a person.” It made a stitch.

     He tried to scream, but nothing came out.

     “No silly, it won't work when you're under a command. I made sure of that.” It dug in again, this time on the opposite side of his mouth. “We can't have the doll talk when it's getting played with.” 

     It completed another stitch, plunging in and out sporadically all across his face. By the time it finished, most of the area of Etho’s mouth had a wire through some part of it. Blood trickled down his face. 

     “Looking better already!” it commented, “But there's something else I need to fix.” It pulled a knife out. “I've had a change of heart per say,” it commented casually as it lifted his shirt and placed the tip of the knife on his chest, “I don't think you should keep yours.”

     It drove the knife in. Blood gushed out, spraying across the demon’s face. It reached into his chest, cackling, and ripped.

     And everything went black.

Joel

     Joel woke up, yawning and grabbing his comm. He stood up, stretched, and checked the time. 10:06 am. Is Etho still asleep? Huh, must be the anesthetics. 

     He opened up the door connecting his room to Etho's.

     There was blood coating the bed, the floor, and even some of the walls. In the middle of it all was Etho, lying stock still on the bed. Joel rushed over, all the weariness gone immediately.

     He knelt next to him, looking for breath. There was none. Of course there’s none, you idiot! Instead, he reached over to Etho's neck to check for a pulse.

     There was none.

      No no, it must just be the mask. He's still alive, Joel told himself frantically. He moved his fingers under it, checking again.

     Still no pulse. The skin was cold.

     “No no no, Etho please,” he muttered, tears welling up in his eyes. He checked again, still finding nothing. No breath, no warmth, no pulse. He stood up, trying to move Etho so he could do something to help him. Anything to keep him alive.

     Etho was completely frozen, not reacting at all. “Shit, please, you can't leave me.” He remained still as a statue. Still as a statue. Still. A stupid, irrational idea popped into his head. No, it can't. He has no pulse.  

     Yet Joel gave a silent prayer to any god that would listen and said, “Release.”

     Etho moved.

     “Oh, thank the devs!” Joel exclaimed, hugging him tightly. He began to quiver, reaching up timidly to hug him back. 

     At first, Etho said nothing, but then he started to cry, holding on to Joel like a rock in a storm. What happened to him? Joel could only remember seeing him like this once. The crying was strange, as Etho was not breathing at all. There were occasional whimpers, but it was almost all silent. 

     Joel waited for Etho to pull back, happy to continue holding him until he felt safe.

     Eventually though, Etho did pull back, releasing him from the death grip, still gently holding one of Joel’s hands.

     “Devs, I thought you were dead,” Joel said, reaching over and wiping the tears from Etho’s face. 

     Etho did not respond, leaving a deep indigo silence. He held Joel's gaze, still shaking, when he broke it, saying, “I am. It killed me.” 

     “What?” Joel asked, his eyebrows furrowing.

     Etho reached up to his mask and pulled it down, revealing a mess of wires. His mouth was barely visible beneath the stitches, but what little was was covered in clotted blood. 

     “It came back. It took my heart and it killed me. I was dead, Joel, for hours,” Etho said, trembling, “It came in, sewed up my mouth, and took my heart. Everything went dark and cold and then there was nothing. And when I woke the sun was rising but the cold never left. I'm so cold. Everything feels empty and cold.”

     Joel didn't know what to say. What is one supposed to do when your friend tells you they died? Finally, he thought of something.

     “I'll keep you warm,” Joel said, squeezing his hand.

     “Why?” Etho asked.

     “What do you mean why?” Joel replied, confused.

     “Why would you care? I'm not even human anymore. I'm just an imitation. I'm not worthy of you.”

     “Yes, you are. You are absolutely worthy. Human or not, you are a person, and I care about you.”

     “You shouldn't, not any-” Etho started, before Joel cut him off with a gentle kiss. 

Etho

     Etho’s thoughts stopped as he felt Joel's lips against his through the wires. It was warm, bringing him a bit of life. It was every emotion and none all at once in a manner of personhood which had not acknowledged him for too long. It filled the gaping void in his chest, if only a little, with sparking, beautiful electricity.

     And then it was gone. Joel pulled back, taking the spark of life with him. 

     “Sorry,” Joel muttered.

     “No, it's fine,” Etho said once his voice came back.

     “I just don't want to make things more complicated for you. You're already dealing with so much and I don't want to add more. I got carried away. Sorry.” 

     “No, really, it's fine. It was nice.”

     “Yeah?” 

     “Yeah. It made me feel real.”

     “I'm glad. I'm glad it helped. And I'm glad you feel the same way,” Joel said. 

     Etho wanted to smile, to express the happiness, humanity, and hope he felt, but he couldn't. The wires prevented it. Instead, he reached over, taking hold of Joel’s hand once more. He leaned in, returning the kiss as best he could. It was warm again, but this time it didn't leave. 

     “Devs Joel, what are we gonna do?” Etho asked, resting his head on his shoulder.

     “I’m not sure, but we'll do it together.”