Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It had been a long day for all who lived or traveled deep within the dark oaken forests that stood tall above the surrounding flower valleys. The suns rays had just fallen below the distant horizon, and now that night had finally descended upon the land, it left the darkened woods feeling claustrophobic, everywhere under the trees drenched in murky, jet-black shadows, unlike the way the ambiance was soothing and beautiful throughout the many hours of daylight that came prior each day; and more than just that, it was almost completely peaceful during the times when one could see more than three feet in any direction.

While many of the animals headed to the safety of their homes at this time, songbirds asleep in their self-made beds and snakes huddled in their burrows with the comfort of the dirt above their heads, there was a certain group of animals who went against their nature and stayed up even after the stars had come up, though the brilliant twinkling above them was entirely invisible with the canopy of tree leaves blocking out the remaining light from the moon and its companions in the sky.

This group, otherwise known as the Woodland Expedition Team, were filled with incessant hunger for exploration, companionship, knowledge and grandeur accomplishments, which often kept them obsessively awake into the later hours of the night, exploring and traveling just as they did during the day. So just like many other nights, this night could be considered rather normal for the group of four who now trudged through the grass, way lit by just a single lantern that swung at their leader's side, assisted only by the bright fires that danced off one of their bodies near the back of the group. So it was to nobody's surprise when not even the nocturnal animals nearby batted an eye to the loud shuffling of several pairs of feet walking through the fallen leaves and ever-green ferns that covered the dirt on the forest floor, or the chatter breaking through that sound while the lantern glow swayed back and forth from its clasp on the leader's belt, or even to the sound of the air swirling around a sword that spun expertly in experienced, practiced hands. It was never quiet when the Woodland Expedition Team was together, and even less-so when they were on the move.

It wasn’t long before another familiar sound drew the attention of everyone present as the one leading at the front of the group let out a loud sigh, followed by several incoherent yet clearly frustrated grumblings under his breath. The group of explorers behind him all looked between themselves, most of their eyebrows scrunched up with concern or distaste for the uncomfortable mood that had settled over them that even rivaled the suffocating nature of the pitch-black woods.

“Hey Grian, uhm… What’s the matter..?” One of them finally asked between the lengthy spiel happening under Grian’s breath and the frustrated tapping of his foot on top of crinkly, loud leaves after they'd all settled to a halt. The inquisitive one wrung his hands together as he stared nervously at the back of Grian’s head, seeing his wings twitch on his back in the way they always did when he was angry. Despite both of them having wings, they looked completely different from each other and, likewise, behaved completely differently. A pair of his own white wings that adorned his head, always drew from the back into a crown-like shape in the front. His yellow eyes seemingly glowed on their own in the dark of night, giving him a much more dangerous air than his timid nature would imply. His three remaining pairs of small yet long white wings were drawn tight against his back in retaliation against the cold of night and the discomfort from the confrontation. Altogether, his eight individual wings, sun colored eyes, and strangly colored hair that curled in locks of blues and purples came together in a look that rivaled the appearances of even his most unique teammates.

“Oh, I sure do wonder ‘What’s the matter’, Jimmy!” The other spat back sarcastically, his eye-roll evident in his voice even before he turned himself around to face the group and do it again to their faces. The leader stood shorter than the rest, and despite his usual scowl and the dark rings always evident under his eyes, his own wings always appeared brighter in comparison to any of the colors of his companions, a waterfall of pretty reds and yellows and blues ruffled out from his back in a pair of large, extraordinary wings. Similarly, he had smaller wings in the same colors that came forward from behind his ears, making him more expressive than his face would lead on. Everyone watched as they followed along with every annoyed movement he made with his hands, almost like he was a puppeteer, pulling the strings for his own self.

“Maybe 'the matter' comes from when I left one of you with the map I’ve been working on for weeks now, and then when rain started pouring down from the sky..-” He said, throwing his hands up towards the treetops with the destroyed map still held in his frustrated grip. "-..He didn’t protect it with his life!” His hands, and similarly, the wings on top of his head, then shot forward as he showed the crumpled, soggy map in his hands to everyone who had been following him. “WHAT AM I SUPPOSED TO DO WITH THIS?” He exclaimed, sounding far more distraught than he usually did, even more than when someone happened to get an injury or when the group would run out of rations for the day. “The ink is all running and smudged and the paper is all crinkled and not even suited for writing on and I can’t believe I’m having to say this but I don’t even know where we are anymore!” His breath was now coming out in heavy puffs from his open mouth as his hands, still clenching into the sides of the map with inclemency and disdain now fell to his sides in defeat, the map now held weakly and longingly in his left hand.

Jimmy rubbed the back of his neck with an awkward hand, his fingers brushing against the soft fabric of the bandana he wore, the red evermatching with the red of Grian’s sweater and its ever rolled up sleeves, his eyes staring off and searching for some unknown thing deep within the shadowed bushes and leaves; Grian’s own blue bandana was attempting to catch Jimmy’s vision like the moon would in an open night sky. “Look, Grian… I really am sorry but I don’t know what I was supposed to do in that situation.. I’m still soaked from earlier.” He said, hands now wringing into his damp and heavy jacket, which had always been suitable for winter conditions but not as suited for downpours as you’d expect. “I don't think it would’ve survived even if I had hid it in my own clothes..” He said, shifting uncomfortably on his feet that still stood in soggy shoes, which were now covered in dirt and leaves and twigs that stuck to their wet exteriors. What he wouldn’t give to have the energy and dryness required by his wings to keep himself off the ground right now.

Grian pointed an embittered, forceful finger in his direction, though it was clear it was now more exhausted, lacking the original energy from when he had first turned to face them. “Then call me over, Jimmy! The outside of my wings are waterproof for Dragon’s sake! Now I have to remake the whole damned thing!”

It was then that another person pushed through to the front of the group and made his way between them, his horns, height, and demeanor always demanding attention from anyone around him, though even more so now that he held his hands out to stop what could only be described as a petty fight between honestly pretty good friends. His sword was holstered properly now as his voice broke through the tension. “Alright, boys… Let's calm down now. Jimmy didn’t mean to damage the map that we all use and either way, the map can always be remade, maybe even better than before, Grian. Let’s not go making the night any harder than it has to be.”

Grian crossed his arms then, a big frown on his face even as his eyes drew over his intruding comrades' friendly look and his other comrades' defeated and pathetic expression, forever aimed down at the leaves and dirt on the ground.

Grian let out a loud, heavy sigh. “Alright, Jim... I guess Impulse is right. I didn’t mean to get my wings so bent out of shape. I’m sorry.” He said, despite the hard stare he couldn’t seem to wipe off his face, even when his eyes drew over Jimmy’s ever retreating features.

Jimmy waved his hands in front of him, an embarrassed look painting over some of the shame on his face. “Yeah, yeah.. I totally get it though. No worries. I’m sorry, too.” He said, just before feeling a comforting hand on his shoulder from the gently burning fire elemental behind him and turning his head to give him a gentle smile in return, mouthing a ’Thanks, Tango.’ where nobody else could see.

Impulse sighed as he finally felt safe enough to lower his hands without Grian going for Jimmy’s throat like a vex with a taste for passive blood. He ran a hand through his hair for just a minute as his tail swayed in thought, both his hands finally making their way to his hips in a more confident stance. “How about we set up camp here for tonight, then? I’m sure we won’t do much more at this time of night other than get lost without our map.” He chuckled lightly, though it wasn’t because he found it particularly funny.

Grian looked around for no more than a second before he pulled his carrier bag from over his shoulder and dropped it on the ground in an unceremonious thud. “Yep, sounds good to me.” He said, voice apathetic and giving off the feeling that he’d rather be anywhere else.

Everyone else exchanged one more glance between each other as if they were all telepathically agreeing to let Grian have his time to cool off and then began to shuffle their gear off for the night. Now the ground housed two large backpacks and two smaller carrier bags, the four pairs of feet standing uncharacteristically distant from each other. Impulse wandered off for just a moment before he began to carry over some large fallen logs with ease for all of them to sit on. Jimmy had already begun to clear a space in the middle of the group for a fire to be started. His blazing teammate, Tango, with hair made out of flames and a long tail burning with the same kind, was now lighting up the entire campsite just by being present, the light bouncing off the sides of the trees in a way that might be pleasant for a family gathering on a warm summer's night.

Tango was the type who always tried to keep himself moving, mostly because he had to. His feet always burned with a temperature so high that, not only could he never wear any shoes without them burning to a crisp, but he also tended to set grassy, leafy areas on fire if he stood around for more than a few seconds. But despite this, he was now crouching down beside Jimmy on the ground where Jimmy had already cleared away the dead leaves, and although it would seem he was just waiting to help start the fire with his ever-useful abilities, everyone but Jimmy seemed to know he was just over there to help him finally dry off from the rain, his fires burning a bright blue and causing steam to rise and spin away in big swirls from the other's clothes that he still wore.

As Impulse removed his sword and its holster from his belt to set it down beside himself for the night, he looked over at Grian who had already pulled out a new, dry cartography paper from his bag and was now smoothing it out with his hands on his lap in preparation for tomorrow. “Hey, G?” Impulse tried, his voice always sounding light even at times like this. Grian spared him a glance up from his new map, one of his eyebrows quirked in questioning despite his tired look. Impulse gave him a tentative smile. “Why don’t you go and get some firewood for us? There should be plenty out here in the woods, and I’m sure the walk will help you cool off..” He said, making it sound like an offer more than an order as much as he could.

Grian seemed to ponder it for a second with his eyebrows heavy and scrunched on his forehead before he gave a slight nod, already tucking the paper into his bag, standing up and turning the other way from his log to leave. He felt the thud of a sword in its leather holster being pressed against his chest as Impulse halted his attempt to go. “It’s not good to be without protection in the dark, right?” He said with a kind smile.

Grian felt that nagging in his head, the kind that insisted he wanted to smile back despite how pissed he still was. He accepted the sword with seemingly ungrateful hands and started walking off, clipping it to his own belt on the other side of his lantern and above his bundled up rope as he heard Impulse call out from behind him. “Don’t worry about us, G! I’ll keep an eye on these guys!”

Grian couldn’t shake the urge to smile that time, despite even going so far as to shake his head in refusal, and so he simply did it in secret...

where no one could see.

He walked in peaceful silence for a while, picking up sticks like he was tasked with and letting them collect in a big bundle under one of his arms. When he eventually realized he had been walking for awhile and turned to look back, he could no longer see the glow that Tango always gave off, and it finally registered to him that he had actually wandered quite a bit further away than he had intended. Now, Grian wasn’t lost; Grian didn’t get lost. His sense of direction had always been far superior to that of his comrades. He still knew the way back to his group and if he flew he could be back there in five minutes flat. Still, as he took the rope from its clip on the left side of his belt, being careful not to knock the newly acquired sword off in the process, and knelt down to tie all the firewood together into a bundle with a big loop for him to sling it over one of his shoulders, he used the time to take in his surroundings with his neverending curiosity.

Of course there was nothing too riveting. His eyes scanned along more of the same pitch-black woods, the forest floor around his feet only lit up by his lantern for a couple of yards in all directions.

But for just a moment in time as he glanced around himself, he thought he saw something that stood out from all the darkness. His brain went on autopilot, immediately searching for what he saw that was out of the ordinary again, looking at trees and their leaves and the unending shadowed forest in front of him, until eventually his eyes landed on a golden glow in the distance, but it wasn’t the glow of Tango’s fires that should now be far behind him. No, this was in the direction he had been walking the whole time, to the northwest of camp, away from everyone else, isolated and deep in the woods where no passive civilizations had yet dared to move in.

His curiosity always getting the better of him, he slung his bundle of wood haphazardly over his right shoulder, which bumped against one of his wings in an uncomfortable way, and then his feet took off in a speedy dash in the direction of the light, nothing more than a soft yellow glimmer in the distance.

As he got closer and more and more of the trees parted from his view, more and more of the same kind of lights came into view, each square shaped and repeating amid the pitch-black wall they stood against, until his feet raced their way into an open and breathtaking clearing, refreshing as the night air, surrounding his body in an openness that made him feel relieved. But when Grian looked up to account for the positions of the stars and the moon so he could map this location on the map come tomorrow morning, he noticed that the stars almost seemed to disappear in a straight line across the open sky, blocked by something large and menacing. It had taken him far too long to realize, but when he finally did, he saw that he was standing right in front of what could only be described as some sort of mansion, there in the middle of nowhere, standing by itself, tall and foreboding.

Grian’s eyes drew to where he assumed the front door would be, his thoughts running wild. Sure, making maps was a passion of his for many years now, but the reason he enjoyed it so much was because of the exhilarating feeling he got when he could explore somewhere new, the feeling of his adrenaline kicking in and his heart pounding, eyes sparkling and wanting, and his entire being feeling renewed, like he'd just been born again and discovered breathing for the first time.

’The lights are on... Are there really people here in the middle of nowhere? If I knock on the door, will someone answer it? But what if the people who answer it are dangerous...-?’ His thoughts were running away with all the possibilities that could be waiting for him if he walked his feet up to that front door, planted them there firmly, and knocked daringly against its rough, unexpecting wood.

As he mulled over his options, hand already drawn up to his chin in thought, he saw the silhouette of someone walking past one of the windows on the ground floor, his eyes following them down the hallway like he had an unquenchable taste for being the cat that the curiosity killed.

Deciding that sprinting as fast as his legs could carry him probably wasn't his best option when going into a possibly hostile encampment, he instead crouched low to the ground as he made his way over, large wings tucked tight against his back in an attempt to dull their size and color, with his small wings shielding his eyes from the bright light of the many, many illuminated windows. When he had shuffled up to the side of the window that the figure had passed by, he peeked his head up ever so slightly just so that his eyes could see inside, though he still couldn't see down to most of the floor. He could see a long hallway that laid horizontally in front of him, rooms built into the wall on the opposite side of the windows, and although nearly every light in the building seemed to be on, the wallpaper inside was peeling in seemingly every spot that it could, the wooden plank walls underneath molding and falling apart. On the left side, where the hallway turned a corner, he could see it open up into a room with some long forgotten armchairs and a coffee table that was still standing despite missing half of one of its legs; the carpets were filthy and growing their own moss and... whatever else that was... and the lightbulb in the ceiling was fractured and flickering, though it still somehow illuminated the entire room.

He frowned to himself subconsciously. It looked completely abandoned except for all of the lights being on and that silhouette from before. Why would anyone willingly be here in this kind of dump?

He sat and waited, for one minute, then five, then ten, and when he saw that nobody else seemed to be planning to pass through the hallway he was surveying, he placed calloused hands under the closed, cracked window and lifted with all his might, attempting to get it to move against the splintering frame that it was stuck inside.

It budged only slightly at first, a cloud of dust puffing up from the windowsill inside that made its way out into the cold night air, and similarly, right into Grian’s face, his breath held tight in an attempt to avoid coughing, cheeks puffed and round in retaliation. He pulled harder against the window until he heard a loud crack followed by a slam, both from the window hitting the top of the frame quickly and harshly and from a piece of wood that had broken off when it happened, flying from some place above him and out into the hallway inside.

He flinched against the loud sound that even echoed out into the forest, causing the nearby chirps of crickets and croaks of frogs to become hushed as if hiding from a predator; there's no way that wasn't about to attract massive attention from the people inside.

Now he had a choice, he could wait even longer to make sure the coast was clear, which could mean the window possibly getting reshut on him or, even worse, him getting caught. He also had yet to consider the fact that he should be heading back to the camp soon until just now. His frown refused to part from his face. His friends were probably starting to worry by now.

His other option was one he was more familiar with, one he felt a lot of thrill with in the past. He could rush in now before anyone had the time to check what had happened, and make a break for somewhere to hide inside. That was probably his best bet if he wanted to actually get to explore this mansion tonight, alone, without the voices of his teammates telling him what he should or shouldn’t do.

He quickly threw his leg over the windowsill, his wings easily giving him the boost he needed with nothing more than one big flap, wood collection bumping against his back and the wooden frame, the noise rattling its way into the interior. He found himself inside with his talons digging into the musty, grimy carpets and took the time to dust his clothes off as if he wasn't just worried about being caught moments before.

And perhaps he should've been more worried and observant, because when he finally lifted his head to look around again, his eyes caught on a figure at the other end of the hallway from where he stood, approaching him much faster than he would've preferred. When the light finally hit the one approaching from the shadows, Grian immediately knew he was in some sort of trouble. With grey skin, a large nose, and tall body like that, it had to be some sort of illager, known for being violent, aggressive, and difficult to defeat. His chance of survival would depend entirely on what sort of illager it was, though.

His eyes scanned over the clothing quickly, long black robes and no obvious weapon; which one was this again?

But he was already out of time to assess the situation, and it seemed his question would simply provide an answer itself. As the illager removed its hands from where they were tucked together in its robe, it lifted them above its head in a swift motion, and when Grian realized what was happening, he folded his wings tight against his back, and he bolted in the other direction, through the living room and down the other hall, the sound of monsters being summoned loud and intense behind him and then…

all the lights went out.

He ran as fast as he could, breath already coming out in anxious puffs. As he turned the corner that extended to the right at the end of the hallway, his eyes caught on an ominous red glow behind him.

He had a bad feeling that if he left his back turned to that red light, it would be the end of him.

His feet seemed to stutter and lag for a moment, now stuck in place as he looked back and forth down each of the hallways for his attackers. When he didn’t immediately see them, he let out a shaky sigh that he forcefully made quiet.

But before he could let his now trembling legs continue to carry him down the hallway, the wall to his right started to wobble next to him.

“Wha-..” He breathed out, eyes drawing over it in confusion and fear.

It rippled like the surface of water in the rain, and then the color of the walls began to change, the wood changing from its natural brown to a deep orange, and then, as it began to turn red…

a head popped out of the wall, all blood-red eyes and bluish grey skin.

‘A vex!’ Grian could feel the alarms going off in his mind.

The head tilted one way and then the other as if curiously looking him over, and then, it let out a piercing shriek, causing Grian to raise his hands to his ears, which were then covered by the small wings behind them, his eyes squinting partway shut against the excruciating sound.

When the shrieking finally stopped and got replaced with a far less grating swooshing sound, a noise something like hearing the wind but inside, Grian looked up, hands still hesitantly covering his ears. His weary eyes immediately came face to face with the point of an iron sword just inches from his head, the place where it was phasing through the wall ever-rippling and otherworldly. His eyes widened just as the sword was slashed at his head, his usually nimble feet stumbling him backward just in time to avoid the hit, and more than a few strands of his bangs falling to the ground in front of him. His left hand reached for the sword in its holster while the right one braced himself against the wall as he dodged out of the way of another swing, the creature now fully crawling its way out of the wall, revealing its wings and illuminating the entire hallway in a sickly crimson glow the color of blood, and probably the color of his guts if they ended up on the floor.

‘Why did I put the sword on this side?!’ He mentally chastised himself as he was forced to grab it with his left hand despite being right-handed.

He hadn't expected to actually be using it.

He managed a weak swing with his left hand as the vexes sword attempted to collide with his head again, just barely deflecting it in time with the loud clang of iron on iron. He knew that vexes always appeared at the sound of an illagers call in groups of three, and he also knew that he wouldn't be able to fight off more than one of these by himself. He would have to find a way out of this situation before the rest came flying down the hall or popped their heads through the mansion walls. As someone who wasn’t very practiced in swordfighting, he would have no other choice but to run and hide as far away in the building as he could.

With one more weak left-handed slash, he knocked the iron sword out of the vexes grasp, ears waiting for the sound of the metal hitting the ground to convince himself that it had really happened, before he turned quickly on his feet, now carrying himself down the next turn in the hallway with nothing but adrenaline keeping him from falling over from his sudden exhaustion. He was starting to wish he’d stayed back at camp and slept instead. He was sure Jimmy could’ve gotten the firewood without messing it up like he had, suddenly feeling the weight of his bundle of branches more than before.

He could tell from several distant shrieks and hisses behind him that more vexes had spotted him, the demonic red glow that hugged his back growing brighter and brighter the longer he was running down the corridor. He was lucky to come to the end of the hallway then so that he could turn another corner.

Despite the common population avoiding vexes altogether, it was only because the information on them was so thorough that people knew how dangerous it was to encounter or engage with them, so thankfully Grian had picked up a lot of knowledge about them throughout his years travelling. Although vexes have the ability to phase through walls, if they didn't know where he was, they wouldn't be able to find him. His eyes caught on a staircase to his right as he was dashing through the hall. His feet stopped for a moment, his breath now the loudest thing echoing in his head since he put distance between himself and the vexes.

‘If I go down there it might be a dead end...’ He thought, the sound of his heartbeat starting to rise above the sound of his breath. ‘But they might lose track of me… and I might end up too far away for them to find me.’

It was a chance he had to take.

Deciding to risk it instead of trying to pry open a new window or staying on the same floor as the vexes, and with shaking tired legs beneath him, he barreled his way down the stairs as fast as he could, seemingly taking him an entire two stories underground before they came to an end, the walls around him now completely concrete and undecorated, a stark change from the solid wooden build upstairs and its wallpaper, carpets, and all.

His vision blurred for just a moment before he shook his head. He forced himself to focus. There was a hall that ran straight in front of him and at the end it branched off in two directions, to the left and to the right.

He still had just enough energy to run to the end, where he looked both ways, his sword having been tossed to his right hand at some point, which was now clenching it tightly despite how sweaty his palms were. At the end of the hallway on the left was a room with an open wooden door, a flickering light was coming from inside, probably from a candle or lantern rather than a light fixture. The other end of the hallway had an iron door, meaning it was most likely locked from at least one of the sides, and probably couldn't be opened from the other. Through the small window at the top of the door he could see that it was dark inside.

He knew he really didn't have an option here. If they followed him downstairs, they'd expect him to be in the only room that looked accessible, so he’d have to hide in the one place they wouldn't even bother to look by somehow making it accessible to himself. He made his way with less vigor than before towards the iron door, his feet having slowed to an exhausted walk. There was a button to access the door to the right of him, but when he slammed it harshly with his fist, it opened the door for only a second before closing it again. He would be locked inside if there was no button or other mechanism on the other side. He breathed out, there is a way to get inside locked doors by force, but it would ultimately be loud and difficult for someone as tired as him.

But what choice did he have?

He lifted his right arm weakly with the butt of the sword aiming down, and with as much of his energy as he could muster, he slammed it down on the iron door's handle, the metal creaking violently under the pressure. If it was making a sound that dramatic, a few more hits should get him in.

He slammed the handle of the sword down again and again, the door handle groaning in a more dire way each time, until eventually the loud snap of metal breaking was heard, and two clangs echoed as broken metal clattered against the floor, once on his side, and once on the other.

He huffed out a sigh of relief as he grabbed half the handle from in front of his feet, and opened the iron door with a tough pull on the hole where the handle once was. It moved easier than he expected, and with the remainder of his energy, he made his way inside and weakly closed the door behind him.

His legs wobbled for a few steps before he collapsed to his knees in the middle of the small, barren, concrete room, nothing but his loud breath in his ears and the scittering of what was probably several silverfish housing themselves in the walls.

It was only after he had finally begun to feel safe, his vision already blurring and giving him the okay to pass out for the night, that the walls around him began to illuminate despite the dark, lightless interior; the bright, reminiscent glow from behind him made his stomach drop.

Had he been found already?

He had only been downstairs for a few minutes… His legs only getting seconds to rest, if kneeling on hard, unforgiving concrete could really be considered rest.

This time...

Was it really the end of the line for him?

He didn’t have the time to consider it before he turned himself around, sword barely in a position to cover his face from an attack when his assailant landed on him.

His blurry vision struggled to make itself clear, now barely keeping himself conscious despite his predicament. But his brain still forced his eyes to search for the things that were the most important.

There was no sword in its hand…

And when he realized that, his eyes kept searching.

There was no smallness to its size like the vexes from just moments before. And.. it didn’t even seem… not… human?

There was only an unblinking stare inches from Grian’s face that resembled his own curious look from just minutes ago, with eyes that burned with how intensely and brightly they were blue.

Its hands were not clawing mercilessly at his sword to aim for his neck like he thought they should have been, but instead they were planted firmly on the ground on either side of his head, an entire body weight pressing down on him from above.

Still, his hands shook, the sword trembling from where his right hand held the handle and his left hand braced the sword for impact, which was holding the blade's end tight enough to draw the slightest bit of blood from the palm of his hand, which started running down his wrist and into his already carmine sweater.

But still, despite everything he managed to think…

‘Why is the glow so…’

‘blue..?’

And with that last thought, the last ounce of Grian’s energy had completely left him, and along with it, his consciousness, his eyelids barely even attempting to keep themselves open as they fell shut against his will, head thumping back against the concrete harshly. His arms and his sword fell weakly against his chest, and despite the fact that he was fearing for his life only moments before, his once shaky breath now rose and fell in even beats, the only sign he’d been through anything at all being that the dark circles underneath his eyes were now darker than ever before, and that his bundle of wood had cracked and fallen apart, now scattered on the ground beneath his back in a way that could only be uncomfortable.

The other, now sat in Grian’s lap and staring down at his unconscious body, simply blinked to itself, as if it was unable to process what had just happened. It sat up slightly, reaching for Grian’s left arm and lifting it up, only to drop it and watch it fall limply back down beside him.

Now, vexes were not known for being particularly intelligent, only widely known for their bloodlust and their anger.

But while Grian saw vexes and swords and red eyes in the nightmares that tormented him, he missed the way his body was gently lifted off the hard floors, almost as if he was simply floating, and placed against the wall on the other side of the room, and the way the wood was bundled back together by inexperienced and soft but dry hands, with the new knot being almost useless in holding the wood together, but somehow still managing the task. He missed the way the other checked the broken iron door with such curiosity, pulling it open then closing it shut as if it’d never seen it move before in all its life; and he certainly missed all of the effort it took just to get him outside, the climbing up the stairs with his limp body in its arms, the careful watching for guards, the bundle of sticks being carried over one of its shoulders, the haphazard breaking of the window nearest to the stairs, and the climbing through and running off into the woods and out of sight from the mansion, a few drops of blue and red blood left behind on some of the broken glass still left in the window frame, and the sound of tearing fabric barely echoing in Grian’s unconscious mind.

And as his body was laid on a patch of moss and up against a sturdy, old tree, his nightmares changed into something more like blue skies and lilacs and poppy fields.

The wood was propped up against the tree on his left side, and the sword laid down in the moss on his right.

And then, as if he'd never entered the mansion to begin with...

he was all alone...

...in the forest without his friends and without his map...-

and without the red or blue glows.

Chapter Text

When Grian woke up the following morning, it was much the same experience as being hungover after a night of drinking with his comrades. The sunlight was bright and annoying against his eyelids, causing him to attempt to turn his head away several times in either direction, the feeling of a rough surface scratching against the back of his head as he did so, his head's feathered wings twitching uncomfortably. He eventually brought a hand up to cover his eyes, filtering it to a more bearable amount through his fingers when the morning rays began to turn his sleep deprived self's annoyance into an even more annoying headache.

He rocked one of his legs back and forth, stiff and sore and also annoying, and when he eventually found the energy to fully open his eyes, his consciousness catching up with him at long last, he finally realized where he was, or rather, where he wasn’t.

He didn’t see the camp in front of him that they had all set up the night prior. He didn’t feel his normal sleeping gear behind his back, keeping it cushioned so it wasn't aching and bruised like it was now against the tree that he finally looked up at. And he didn't see Impulse crouched over his own bag like he did every morning, sorting through their supplies and gear for the day and making sure they had enough rations to keep going without a pitstop or break. And he sure as Nether didn’t see Tango and Jimmy cooking breakfast over the fire, using slightly more of the rations than they'd ever been allowed to, even though he knew that Impulse knew and let them do it anyway. He knew for a fact that at least the noise from those two guys was impossible to miss.

Which could only mean one thing...

He wasn't at camp. He never made it back to camp at all.

His head dropped further into his hand, body slouching over as his mind raced through confusing and blurry thoughts that only came back to him like the fuzzy look of dappled sunlight on closed eyelids. He did everything he could to remember what had happened, but nothing was coming to him. It was only when the firewood he had collected last night, the bundle that he was supposed to return to camp with, caught his eye that it all came flooding back.

He had gone out to collect the firewood when he was fuming with his frustrations towards Jimmy, and then he found a mansion, isolated and alone in the middle of the woods, and when he'd gotten too curious, he went inside. Little did he know, he had bitten off more than he could chew, and an illager and its vexes attacked, causing him to run as far as he could and hide away in the second basement floor beneath the building, in a room that he thought no one would check. And then… and then…

It all started to feel blurry again. He frowned as his hands subconsciously pawed over the top of his face. What happened next?

His head fell back against the tree then, eyes squinting in confusion against the bright morning light, and at the moss that he could feel under the fingers of his hands when he placed them back down, and at the bundle of wood that was tied back together with seemingly no skill at all…

The memory of someone attacking him, the vision of its blue eyes burned itself into his head.

‘But that was a vex... wasn’t it? Or... maybe some sort of vex hybrid.. but even so.. then how did I...’

‘end up here...? Alive?’

‘I should be... oh, man... I should be DEAD.’

It was then that he finally sat up properly, suddenly in a hurry.

‘They probably think I’m dead...!’

It was then that he stood up as quick as his tired, shaky legs would let him and, despite his rush and the stumbling that insisted he fall over when he got onto his feet, he grabbed the bundled wood more carefully than he should have and shuffled the retied rope on over his shoulder with thoughtful hands, only thinking ‘It might break if I just throw it on..’ instead of simply retying it himself. He made sure to leave out his other thoughts about the shoddy craftsmanship on the knot.

He barely remembered to pick up Impulse's sword before he left, but he grabbed it with hasty hands and slid it back into its scabbard before looking around at his surroundings.

He didn’t know where exactly he was in the forest anymore, so even his supreme sense of direction wouldn't lead him back to the camp no matter how much he wanted it to.

Despite the feathers on his wings having been bent out of place and the uncomfortable feeling of the places where some had been lost the night prior, he knew what he would have to do to find the ones he needed to get back to.

He would have to fly.

He was lucky that flying was his other specialty besides map-making.

His hands found their way to his knees, doing a few stretches in his legs while his wings stretched out one at a time behind him.

And then, with a powerful boost from his legs and one big flap from his wings, he was airborne, though just barely dodging tree branches on his way up that he would usually avoid with ease, until eventually he shot up above the tree line and it was open, blue skies and white fluffy clouds above the green of the tree leaves for as far as his eyes could see. It would be a pain to spot them if they had already put their morning fire out, but if they were out searching for him like he suspected they were, they probably would've left it burning as a smoke signal with at least one of them back at camp to wait to see if he’d come back. And luckily he was right that his friends were so thoughtful, or that they were just cooking up his portion of breakfast to eat for themselves, but either way he could see the curl of grey smoke making its way up into the sky and he knew exactly where he needed to go, which somehow was much closer than he thought it would’ve been.

Whoever saved him and brought him outside was kind enough to leave him in a semi-safe place not too far from his camp. He’d have to thank them later if he ever saw them again. And for some reason he had the feeling he wouldn't be able to move on without understanding the part where his memory faded out and left him with nothing but unanswered questions.

It would take no more than a few flaps of his wings to bring him back to camp, and when he finally snapped out of his thoughts and remembered that he should be hurrying, he took off in that direction.

‘At least they don’t seem to be missing their firewood too much...’ He thought with an eye roll and a slight fond smile to match.

He flew his way over, surveying the ground as he went to see what he could spot between bundles of light-dappled tree leaves that were full and large. The forest floor held nothing too particularly interesting, and as he finally made his way to the plumes of smoke that were making their way up into the air, he circled it a few times so he could simply look down at the fire below, though he didn't see anyone in particular down there, only the four logs that Impulse had dragged over that were still sitting in the same places.

Yep, definitely their camp.

He took his descent slow and easy in an attempt to relieve the pressure he would feel in his legs upon landing, somehow making it down on light feet but still wincing at the pressure from supporting his body weight that followed.

Before he could even look up from the ground, his ears were bombarded by a loud shout.

“HOLY SH-..” Came the sound of Jimmy’s voice, only cut off by the part where he tripped and fell over one of the logs on his way over to Grian.

’How many loud sounds am I gonna have to put up with?!’ Grian thought, his hands already back to covering his ears.

“GRIAN, YOU’RE BACK!? Where.. Where WERE you?” He said, placing his hands on Grian’s shoulders and looking him over, seemingly forgetting they had ever argued in the first place now that he was worried about Grian.

Grian tried to hold back the fond smile that threatened to make its way to his face again when he peeked up at Jimmy, hands raising to rest on his forearms; he had never hated Jimmy, and truthfully, he never really blamed him for what happened to the map at all. So he smiled anyway.

“Just got a little lost is all.” He said as Jimmy raised a gentle hand and pulled some sticks and leaves out of Grian’s hair. But Grian could tell his friend wasn't convinced. There was an uncharacteristically serious look on Jimmy's face when he looked over the cut on Grian’s hand that he didn’t even remember getting, though it was clearly made by solid, sharp metal instead of just the usual scrape he was prone to ending up with.

It was then that Jimmy’s eyes caught on Grian's bandana for just a second, his face suddenly looking a little paler and sicker than moments before; his eyes quickly returned to looking into Grian's, however, now squeezing Grian's uninjured hand in his own.

“Did someone attack you?” Jimmy said, his face grave and full of anger, but before Grian could respond, Jimmy heard a loud gasp from behind himself. The bright dancing flames of Tango's hair approaching would catch anyone's attention, even if they had their back turned, so they knew their one on one conversation had already come to its end.

“JIMMY!! We told you to yell as loud as you could if he came back!!” Tango said with a clearly tired voice, though he still hopped over the logs to get to Grian, albiet much more gracefully than Jimmy did.

“I did yell!! It just…-" Jimmy looked off to the side, a now indiscernible expression on his face. “-...wasn’t that loud…” He finished lamely, his voice quiet.

Tango was at Grian's side in no time at all, “Are you alright?! It's not like you to get lost! Oh, wait... Sorry.. Let me go blow the horn that Impulse left to let him know you're back!!”

Tango ran off without a moment for them to reply, hopping over another log to reach Impulse's gear that had been left behind, including his backpack and the horn he always carried, his feet leaving scorch marks in his wake.

Jimmy had opened his mouth in an attempt to speak to Grian again to get some answers, since it was clearly not a case of 'just getting lost' which Grian never did, but Grian had already forcefully pulled his hands away and out of Jimmy’s own, walking away from him to finally set the firewood by the fire just several hours too late.

It wasn't long after Tango blew the horn with all his might that Impulse came running back from somewhere in the other direction of where Tango returned from. Tango had somehow come from the same direction that Grian had went the night before, and Grian wondered if maybe he had encountered the mansion just like he did. Impulse had clearly been looking in the wrong place entirely. Despite everything, he still greeted Grian with his usual smile. “Hey, G! You made it back! You had us worried for a moment there!”

Jimmy watched on in frustration as Impulse and Tango continued to talk without asking any questions, which meant Grian would continue to get away with not explaining himself. They didn't even ask about where he'd been or how he’d gotten hurt. Impulse was even acting like he’d never been missing at all!

Grian, still exhausted despite probably sleeping several hours, had already wandered back to his bag when his friends had dispersed, grabbing the new map and a pen out of his bag before shuffling it on across his shoulder, careful not to bump his wings. He was already ready to get started on his work for the day; he could think about resting when all was said and done.

He would be late for a lot of things, but when it came to his own work, he never failed to finish it properly, even when sick or exhausted.

“Alright, Impulse… I’ll start charting the new map so I’ll be back again later.”

But before Grian could flap his wings and take off again, Impulse had planted a firm hand on his shoulder, stopping him just like he did the night before. “Hey Gri, why don't you take someone else with you, y'know, in case you get lost again?” Impulse was giving him a warm smile but Grian knew it was to hide the fact that it wasn’t a suggestion.

Grian gave him a smile in return, though it failed to mask his discomfort at the question. He had to go alone if he wanted to go back to that mansion and find out what happened to him the night before.

“It was just one time, Impulse. I’ll be fine! Besides, you know I fly to survey the surrounding areas; it'll be difficult for anyone to keep up on foot so-”

“What about Jimmy?”

“What?”

Grian gave him an incredulous look. He does know they were arguing just last night, right? What possible reason would he have for sending Jimmy off with him? Is he just trying to get them to resolve their issues?

Not only would this interfere with his plans of returning to the woodland mansion, Grian was now also trying to avoid Jimmy so he wouldn't be able to ask him any more questions that he had no intention of ever answering. If everyone found out he had a run in with not only an illager and its vexes, but also something that seemed to be a vex hybrid, he probably wouldn't ever be left alone to do the mapping again, and he would never be able to find out what happened.

“Listen me and Jim aren't really getting along right now, so if you would just trust me-”

“That's all the more reason for you to go together. And besides, we’re an expedition team. We should be acting like it. I don’t want to see you leave without him.”

As Impulse did a final pat on his shoulder to dismiss the conversation, Grian frowned. “I’m supposed to be the leader you know!”

Impulse waved a hand behind him as he went to go meet with Tango. “A leader shouldn’t lead with his own bleeding hand!” He called back to him.

Grian looked down at the cut that sliced through the palm of his hand; the dried blood ran down his arm in small streaks, and the new blood was coming up in small spots between where the wound attempted to close itself. It was only then that he realized Impulse hadn’t asked for his sword back, even though it was something he always kept close to himself.

‘I guess I’ll bandage it before I leave..’ He thought, still frowning, his eyebrows ever heavy on his forehead.

And so he did just that.

And as he sat down on his log with the map paper laid down beside him, bandages pulled from his bag and now adeptly wrapping his own hand...

Jimmy watched with anxious eyes.

By the time Jimmy had collected his belongings into his own carrier bag, Grian was already done bandaging his hand in fresh white bandages. Jimmy frowned as he made his way over, and when he had firmly planted his feet in front of Grian, the other had already tossed his legs over the other side of the log, feet now carrying him in the opposite direction.

“Alright. Let’s go, Jim. Try to keep up, alright?” He said, and without even looking back, Grian took off into the air with one powerful flap of his wings, even though he knew Jimmy's smaller wings weren’t as powerful or quick…

...and he knew he’d never be able to keep up.

Jimmy's takeoff wasn't quite as smooth, his racing thoughts moving faster than his wings ever could. In his effort to be quick and not lose track of Grian immediately, he had knocked and bumped into several smaller branches on the way up, arms shielding his face from any potential impact. By the time he had gotten above the tree line, with a few more bruises blooming than before he’d started, he could already see Grian's bright red wings way off in the distance, growing ever further away. He felt the pressure in his body and his mind dissipate when he saw Grian actually stop to mark things down on his new map, wings now doing nothing more than keeping him up in the air to look around.

‘So he wasn’t leaving me behind...’ He mentally sighed to himself, his mind flooding with relief. Still, he’d have to use a lot of energy just to catch up to him now. In his peripheral vision he could see storm clouds that were now making their way in from the horizon; this did nothing more than add to his frustration and worry. It would be almost impossible to work on the map if it started raining like the day before. And yet he simply followed Grian anyway. What else could he do?

When he finally caught up, he saw that Grian had impressively mapped out an entire area in his absence. It had all the trees, the river cutting through the forest, and even the distant mountain was getting sketched at the corner of the map as he’d arrived.

Before Jimmy could even get a word out, Grian simply said “Done here.” and flapped off in another direction, leaving Jimmy all alone again.

The storm clouds only began to cover more of the sky as his eyes hopelessly followed his silhouette; the rain was already falling back at camp.

And then, the same thing kept happening, again and again. Jimmy would finally catch up to Grian, but Grian would already have finished his work there and flown off, and so he’d have to catch up again... There was never any time to get a single word in to him, and each time Jimmy only grew more and more irritated.

When the storm clouds had finally caught up to them, the rain that hit was aggressive and unrelenting, raining down sideways with a force like that of a waterfall. Jimmy hadn't managed to catch up to Grian before the downpour had started, and it soaked his wings down to the bone, making it nearly impossible for him to stay airborne. He’d have to make an emergency landing before he simply fell out of the sky like a shooting star. When he tried to look, he could barely see Grian in the distance anymore, now only a blur of red feathers also making their way to the ground.

He would have to catch up...

again.

When Grian descended it was much less graceful than earlier, feet hitting the ground with a thud that made his knees ache and his body crumple halfway over on itself. The outside of his wings was already soaking wet while the inside of his wings, still dry and fluffy, now cradled the new map between their feathers in hopes of stopping this one from meeting the same fate as the other.

Despite his harsh landing, Grian let out a sigh of relief. Due to the honestly completely unexpected second coming of the storm from the day prior, he was able to shake Jimmy off his tail properly. But with Jimmy being their extremely skilled meteorologist, it was a wonder why he hadn’t warned anybody about the storm. Surely he would've know about it.

But that didn’t really matter. Now he would be able to explore that mansion unbothered, and as long as he came back with most of the map filled out, nobody back at camp would suspect a thing. And besides, even if Jimmy had a harsh landing similarly to him, or if he ended up a little lost, Grian knew he would end up being just fine, and he’d go find him when he was done with his own little excursion.

Grian looked back at his wings as if considering if it was worth pulling out his prized map or not. Truthfully, he hadn't had the time to search for the mansion before he was almost forcefully removed from the sky by his own soaked wings. But taking out the map in a rainstorm like this would only make him have to redo it a second time, and he was not fond of that idea. Though his carrier bag was already a lost cause; it had become drenched down to its insides, though he still hid it under his wings as much as he could, shaking wet bangs from his face and covering his eyes with the sopping feathered wings from behind his ears.

This was going to feel just miserable.

He knew where he had marked the camp on his map, and which direction he had flown to mark down the other big landmarks in the area, but he had purposely avoided the area with the mansion so he wouldn't draw suspicion or attention from Jimmy when he had been following him. Which means the area off to the left of camp, which was left completely blank on his map, would simply be back the way he came and off to the right of where he was now. He just had to make sure to avoid Jimmy and the camp on his way there, and so with that thought, he decided to take the long way around. He made sure he was properly turned around to face the camp, and then, he headed right first.

Without being able to fly, it was difficult to tell just how far he’d actually walked in any direction, and since he wasn’t willing to drag himself up an entire tree with his bleeding hand and his exhausted body, he just continued to guess and hope he got it somewhat right.

He walked on and on for what was probably about fifteen minutes, which he checked on the soaking watch that he always kept on his wrist. He thought that was probably enough time heading in that direction, though it was just a guess. He supposed it was about time he started heading back in the direction of the camp, and that it should, theoretically, land him directly at the side of the mansion that he had been at just the night before.

As he turned his body to start heading back in the direction of camp, the storm didn’t give any signs of letting up, still pelting at his body from the side in a way that almost felt like getting hit by hail instead of rain. His body felt heavy, weighed down from carrying all the extra water and his throat started to fill with the sickly feeling of nausea that he always got when he was out in the rain too long. He didn’t have any choice; he’d have to find somewhere to rest, preferably in a place where the rain wouldn’t reach him.

But when he looked all around himself, he only saw the usual, trees, trees, and more trees. And even though you'd think they'd stop most of the rain from coming through, it still found its way under the canopy and directly onto him. He looked up then, despite the rain making its way into his eyes, and began searching the treetops for anything that might shelter him more. When he thought he finally saw something out of the ordinary, he squinted his eyes some more, noticing that one of the trees reached far higher into the sky than the rest. How had he not noticed that when he was mapping earlier? His eyes must have really been avoiding looking in this direction at all, but that would also mean he was now close to the woodland mansion, which was preferable.

He changed his trajectory more to the right, now heading in the direction of the leaves high in the sky. And when he passed through one last batch of bushes and trees, he found himself in another clearing; and in the center of it all, giant and beautiful, was a tree that stood above everything else, the trunk and roots expanding through a huge portion of the entire open area, grass tickling the edges of the wood before spreading out into flower-filled waves of grass that blew aggressively in the harsh winds.

He let out a sigh of relief, nausea already lessening at the sight of the way the rain struggled to get past the canopy above, barely dripping down into the area under the tree and making it appear like a warm bed to his tired mind.

He didn’t waste any more time thinking about it and had to forcibly stop his body from running for the shelter, concerned about conserving his energy in case he got caught in the storm for a while. So instead he trudged his way over with heavy limbs and luggage he wished he wasn't carrying, only now starting to feel the water get through the top feathers of his wings and seep inside to the softer ones underneath. He got to the trunk of the tree eventually, sitting down immediately among some of the roots on a large bed of moss that had made its way between them. He unceremoniously pulled the map out from underneath his wings and laid on the ground, held down by a forceful hand before he let his back crash against the trunk of the tree.

It was only then that he noticed his breath was coming out in heavy puffs from braving the weather. He felt like he could almost see the air leave his body like the way it'd turn white in the snow. His body seemed to be rejecting this scenario altogether, as the group usually only traveled in more optimal conditions. Their work would be more accurate and, frankly, more enjoyable that way, unlike what Grian was experiencing at the current moment.

He spent some of his precious energy cursing his body out under his breath before he closed his eyes completely, not bothering to do anything about his soaked clothes because honestly, what could he do while the storm was still ongoing?

And when his eyes opened again after several seconds, or maybe even several minutes later, things had changed. His vision was suddenly blurry, the entire world now tilting side to side like a boat rocking on ocean waves. His head throbbed unforgivingly, the pounding of the rain against all of the forest's leaves far too loud in his ears.

Had he passed out? Now it felt like...

His breath was coming out forcefully as if he was struggling to do any breathing at all.

’Am I sick..? It feels so awful.. so bad...’

With his body now feverish and breathless, he knew that he was truly out of commission this time. It was at this point that he was starting to regret leaving Jimmy behind. Grian got hit with a sudden feeling of shame that he was unfamiliar with, his mind filled with the guilt of knowing that Jimmy would be taking care of him right now if he was here, and he left Jimmy lost and alone on purpose.

But just when his eyes tried to close themselves again, suddenly more accepting of his fate and letting the torment be an attestment to his duplicity to Jimmy and the others, a flash of blue light above him caught his eye, and the sound of additional rustling came from the leaves that whipped around in the wind. He didn’t think he could move his body if he tried, so even if it might be danger approaching him, he would have no choice but to just let it come. His right hand slid down to the hilt of the sword on his belt, which he had since swapped places with his lantern since the previous night.

The blue glow only became brighter and more vibrant the longer he sat there, as if the tree branches above where the horizon and the sun was rising and peeking over the edge more and more.

Then, suddenly, the source of the blue was coming towards him at a rapid pace, though it seemed to stutter in the air as if it hit a few branches on the way down. And then, like a memory slapping Grian in the face, a body crashed into him, landing on top of him and glowing a faint blue. Grian hissed out in agony at the sudden pain shooting through his torso; at least he probably broke the fall for whoever just unceremoniously dropped themselves on top of him. His hand clenched the handle of his sword weakly, but he didn’t pull it, and honestly, from the weird angle he was grabbing it at and the body that was now laying on him, he wasn't sure if he could.

Grian heard the new arrival let out a barely audible groan from his lap, now trying to lift itself up on its arms, though its entire body was laying across Grian's own. Then, as if it suddenly realized where it was, its body jumped backwards, hands now up in the air in front of it with a shocked look on its face, or was it maybe embarrassment? The tips of its ears and the tops of its cheeks were tinted in a light blue that almost seemed to glow.

Grian only stared at it through exhausted, squinted eyes, his brain coming to realizations much slower than usual.

“You…” He said, his voice now raspy like he’d been breathing in freezing winter air for hours. “You’re that one from before..” He said, head sliding off to the side against the back of the tree, the wings behind his ears lowered meekly, his finger now tracing the hilt of his sword in a repeated pattern as if he’d decided he wasn't planning to pull it at all.

The other one looked around itself, as if it wasn’t sure where it should go or what it should do. It pulled awkwardly at its raggedy long top that reached all the way down to its knees, though it was fraying in just about every place it could be.

Through Grian's squinted eyes he could tell that it seemed almost entirely human, despite the blue glow that seemed to radiate from its whole body. But it looked just like any other man, with slightly longer, short scraggly hair, a handsome face, and a tall silhouette. He frowned subconsciously knowing that this stranger was definitely taller than him, as everyone seemed to be.

“Are you human..?” Grian asked, even though he knew the answer was definitely no. Humans didn't glow blue, afterall. And not only that, but non-hybrids were extremely uncommon; Grian hadn't even seen a regular human in years.

The other stared at him with ever curious eyes, blinking a few times before tilting its head in the same way Grian's was.

Grian frowned. Was it ignoring him on purpose? No.. it seemed to be listening rather intently to him after all. Maybe it just didn't understand him.

It was then that Grian weakly moved his right arm across his torso, hand no longer resting on his sword as he pointed behind himself at his wings, unruly feathers poking out in all sorts of strange directions.

The other looked, and then looked behind itself, and suddenly, vibrant blue wings lifted from its back, though they weren't as big or colorful as Grian's own.

“Yeah, I thought so…” Grian muttered, his eyes suddenly seeming unimpressed and standoffish. “Are you a vex, then? I’m surprised you're not trying to kill me...”

But even as Grian was saying it, he felt certain somewhere inside himself that the other wouldn’t know what murder was even if it happened to itself.

There was also something strange about the color it glowed... The vexes that chased him let off a bloody, carmine glow, but this was a vibrant, bright blue that was almost even pleasant to look at, in a way, like a clear blue sky on a mapping day.

Grian's head started to throb just a little bit more, hand coming up to hold his forehead as his eyes squeezed shut. “Well if you aren't here to kill me, then what do you want?”

When he was met with yet another silence, he was beginning to realize that talking really did seem pointless and by this point his body seemed to be really insisting he rest, and so since the other didn't seem to be particularly dangerous, Grian decided to let the sleep take him, only after saying one last thing to the one kneeling next to him.

“Do whatever you want then, fairy...”

And then he let himself fall back asleep.

The other watched him as his breath evened out again, sitting very still as if it wasn't sure what it should do.

Something did seem to be significantly more wrong with the other this time, in comparison to the last time they’d met. He was clearly different from before.

The Grian-appointed fairy reached its hand out, laying them gently on some of Grian's clothes before pulling its hand back in concern. Yes, that was certainly different than before. The strained breathing trying to push its way in and out of his throat was different too.

Now its not that the fairy was unintelligent at all, but it had always been alone before this. So when the other spoke to it, it couldn't understand a thing he said, and when the other seemed to fall asleep just at the sight of it, it could only wonder what it might be doing wrong.

But right now, it seemed the one with many wings needed to be changed back to normal so that its voice stopped shaking and its body stopped falling asleep.

The fairy looked up to the sky, even though the leaves stopped the rain from coming through, the wind still blew into the area from all sides, making Grian's clothes cold, even more so because they were already wet.

The fairy shivered against the wind itself, deciding moving to a different place was the better option. Luckily, it was already used to carrying Grian from the night prior, lifting him easily back into its arms. It had seen a cave off in the cliffside near the large tree, so it started to carry him in that direction, walking slowly and carefully over the trees roots. The sound of paper fluttering in the wind and catching on a branch nearby went entirely unnoticed.

When the fairy had reached the end of the canopy, and similarly, the start of the rain, it stood their quizzically as if not knowing what to do. It clearly didn't want them to get anymore wet than they were, already feeling the water from Grian's body soaking into its own thin clothing. It tucked his head against its chest with a gentle hand, though it wouldn't really do much to cover him from the rain. Then it darted quickly across the open area, shaking its head when the water started to soak through its hair and seemingly down to its bones.

When it reached the cave its wings spread out, its steps becoming floaty as it came to a stop, attempting to shake the water from its body in the same way a dog would and then frowning when half the drops from its hair obviously landed on the face of the one it was carrying. It found an area of the cave wall that wasn't too jagged or wet and gently laid the weakly breathing body down, now both just as soaked and cold as the other.

The fairy rubbed its arms as it began to shiver, its eyes squeezing shut as it tried to remember the feeling of warmth, though it didn't remember feeling it often in the cell it had lived in all its life. But then it remembered when it met the boy with wings in the cell and they'd left together. The warmth of Grian's clothes against its body, the way the lantern swinging at his hip threw heat at his side whenever it moved as they walked, the warmth of the sunlight outside and the moss underneath the tree where it had left him.

Then it seemed as though its instincts finally kicked in, knowing that naturally it should replicate that moment from before as closely as possible, and then surely the other would feel better. The one thing that it could replicate from where it was had to be…

Its head turned to look at the lantern still clasped to Grian's belt, though it had been moved to the other side since it had last seen him. It rushed over to the lantern and held it with gentle hands, but it let out a harsh upset breath when it didn't feel the warmth from the lantern against its palms. It didn't see the glowing, flickering light dancing inside like there was last time. It felt all over the surface of the metal and glass, not sure how to make the dancing flame come back. Its hands brushed over a few knobs on the front, and after attempting to press them and getting no response, it tried to move it side to side, realizing now that they spun. It turned the first knob back and forth, but nothing happening except a bad smell that wafted out of the lantern. It then tried the second knob, and when it turned it to the right, the sound of repeated clicking reached its pointy ears, and suddenly the flame and its warmth returned to the lantern, large and bright.

The fairy panicked for a moment, since the metal fire box was still mostly sideways and attached to the man's belt. It reached down and gently tried to pull the lantern off, then when that didn't work, it felt around on the hook that kept it closed. But this object didnt have any knobs or buttons, and it couldn't figure out how to undo the clasp, hands slipping awkwardly against slightly rusty metal. It frowned, and then it stood back up, both hands gripping the lantern despite the glass starting to heat up, and then it pulled it as hard as it could, feet sliding back, before a loud snap was heard, and the fairy crashed backwards onto its backside, the lantern now gripped in lightly stinging hands, the one across from it now groaning in his sleep as he turned his head over against the wall.

The fairy didn't waste any time looking closely at the lantern to see if there was a way inside to the warm thing it sought. There was a glass door to the inside of the lantern, but it was closed shut by a piece of metal. The fairy decided to use its first technique, which was to simply run its hands over it in different directions to see if it happened to change anything, and the latch easily moved out of the way this time, the little glass door swinging open and out towards its face, just inches from its nose.

Overjoyed, a smile lit up its whole face as its hand reached inside, ready to grab the warmth for itself when suddenly...

It let out a quiet yelp, hand jerking back out of the lantern as its fingertip pulsated and burned with a feeling it'd never felt before. It tried to wave its hand to get the feeling off, but of course that didn't work. It whined as it moved its finger to its mouth, sucking on it weakly as it looked at the fire with betrayal and distrust. It would have to find something else to grab the fire with.

It looked around the cave for anything it could use. At first it picked up a rock and considered grabbing it with that, but it got too scared of putting its fingers so close to the heat again, so it tossed it back to the ground instead. It wanted something long so it could stay as far away from the mean fire as possible. It was at this point that it left him there and wandered a bit deeper into the cave, until eventually it was struggling to see, since its own glow had drastically dulled by now. It decided it should probably turn around and head back, but just when it had come to that conclusion, it heard a loud snap under its feet that echoed deeper into the cave ahead, dancing with the sound of dripping water. Its eyes dropped down, catching on a sizeable stick that it had accidentally snapped in half. Still it picked up one end, about the size of its forearm and took it back, its glow a little brighter than before.

When it got back to the lantern it roughly shoved the stick in, no longer wanting to be nice to the lump of metal and its fire. When the stick was finally lit, the bright blue glow of the fairy suddenly lit up the entire cave entrance as it cheered silently, its huge smile the only proof that it ever celebrated at all. But then it was just holding the stick and its fire. It had already learn that touching it was a no go, so if the fire couldn't touch his friend, then he’d have to make it big enough to warm him even from afar. It ran back into the depths of the cave after setting the burning stick down on the ground, stumbling slightly as its eyes searched the floors of the cave, desperately picking up anything that seemed similar to the stick that it could find, mistakenly grabbing a straw and some other things on the way through. But when it made it back to the entrance it had a sizable bundle of sticks to use that had somehow made their way into the cave, throwing them all haphazardly in a pile in the middle of the stone floor. It returned to its original stick, which had long since extinguished, relighting it quickly before throwing it into the other sticks, watching intently in hopes for the fire to spread, and when it did, the whole room lit up again, the orange of the fire dancing with the blue of fairy. It went to pull Grian's body closer to the fire then, the sound of the sword handle dragging across the stone ground louder than even the raging rains outside.

It laid him down gently on his side next to the fire, seemingly happy when it saw him lean into it slightly, the color of the fire dancing across his pale skin as he rubbed his cheek into his hands which he had already adjusted to lay on.

It remembered the day before again; what else was warm and comforting? The boys clothes... the sunlight.. It didn't think it could change his clothes to no longer be wet, though it considered it while patting at its own wet clothing. It also didn't think it could make the rainstorm outside disappear either. It wouldn't even know where to start with that. But then it remembered the warm mosses from outside and it knew it could at least do something with that, though it wasn't fond of the idea of going back into the wind and rain.

It gave Grian one last look, then it ran out the cave opening, back under the tree canopy, and back to the area where Grian had decided to rest earlier. If there was any dry moss in the area, it would have to be somewhere under the large tree. Its eyes continued to track the ground, waiting for a time when its feet would hit dry, soft grasses or moss and not land in the soggy earth that seemed to be almost everywhere it stepped. The area that Grian had been sitting just earlier had been soaked by his body, so even though the fairy had checked, it had to leave that patch of moss be and find another. It searched the other areas closest to the tree, finding itself walking halfway around it before its feet hit an area full of soft, dry moss, and it might've just been a large enough patch of it to work. The fairy went to the tree's edge, feet dodging the tree roots more expertly than before. It took both of its hands, digging them under the mosses edge and feeling the dirt move up under its fingernails. It ran its hands along the edge as far as it could, and then with its damp wings, it held tight and flew itself backwards in the other direction, dragging up an entire sheet of the dirt with the moss on top, some wriggly bugs falling off and back onto the dirt underneath. The sheet was almost bigger than the fairy, who was surprised it could even pull up one that big. It threw it back onto to the ground and rolled it up so it could carry it easier and it was about to pick it up and leave when it heard the loud sounds of flapping and crinkling in the wind.

It looked around in confusion, left then right, and then finally, up. Its eyes caught sight of a paper stuck up in the branches, crumpled and ruffling in the wind. Curious, it quickly floated and darted up the side of the tree, attempted to grab it quickly in its rush, causing the damp paper to tear along the side. It winced at the noise but decided to bring it back anyway. For a second it felt the chill that it always felt when something dangerous was nearby, the same feeling it got when an illager had come by its basement cell late into the night. But when it looked around and saw no one, it decided rushing back to the cave was its best idea.

When it made its way back through the cavern entrance with the paper and the roll of moss, Grian was still sleeping on the cold, stone ground, though he looked significantly more relaxed than before, his body now curled in on itself and cradled in his own arms. It placed the paper on the ground up against a cave wall before it laid out the moss flat on the floor on the other side of the fire from Grian. Then, it gently lifted him into its arms and carried him over, noticing with happiness or perhaps pride that his clothes seemed to be dryer and warmer before laying him on the part of the moss closest to the fire; it laid the rest of it over top of him. Now Grian had the fire and the moss to keep him warm, and since that's all the fairy thought it could do, it sat down next to him on the floor and simply waited, eyes drawing over the features on his face and around the curves of his cheeks that smooshed against his arms.

And between its excursions out to collect more sticks for the fire, which it sometimes forcefully pulled from up in the big tree if it couldn't find any, and fanning the flames with its wings lazily while the light danced on their faces and the ceiling, eventually its head began to lull off to the side, and it laid down near the fire too, hands and arms mimicking Grian's underneath its own head, and it simply let itself feel warm...

and then it fell asleep.

Chapter Text

When Grian's eyes finally opened again, the first thing he noticed was a pile of smoldering embers in front of him, the smoke rising into the air before bouncing off the cave ceiling and making everything smell toasty and burnt around him. He tried to rub the sleepiness from his eyes with his hand, and as he sat up he felt a weight lift itself from his body. He looked over to see a sheet of moss slumped on the floor next to him, half of it still underneath him and keeping him off the cold, cave floor. He tried to ignore the thought of all the bugs that were probably in there and now probably somewhere on him.

He looked out the cave entrance, part of the large tree trunk of the tree he had sat under just earlier still in his view. The rain had settled to something more gentle, now lightly falling against the already overwatered nature outside with the new sound of soft pitter pattering. He felt way too happy when he realized he had gotten out of that miserable rain.

And then he looked around the cave. His lantern was laying on the floor across the fire from him, the fire and similarly, his fuel, burning away inside despite the way it was toppled over. And to his right, seemingly sleeping peacefully on the cool, hard ground, was the 'vex hybrid' that he was supposed to be scared of. But he wasn't.

“You did all this for me.. huh?” Grian said gently, with eyes warmer than the burning remains of the fire, and a smile softer than he would offer to any of his teammates.

Though it seemed like the sound of Grian's voice had done nothing more than startle the other, as the bright blue fluffy antenna on top of its head perked up in the same way the wings on Grian's own head did and its eyes shot open, its body sitting up quickly as it locked surprised stares with him.

Grian flashed him a sarcastic smile. “So you don't know how to speak but you can light a fire then?” He said, with a nod and the gesture of one of his wings toward what was left of the fire.

The other simply blinked in response, fiddling with the edges of its clothes.

Grian let out a warm huff through his nose. Whatever. This 'vex' had saved him after all, meaning that it certainly was no vex at all.

“Well if you're not a vex then…” He said, as he crawled on his hands and knees over to get a better look at his guardian fairy. “We’d better give you an actual name so you won't be confused for one. If I just called you fairy then..” Grian thought about it for a moment, then when he remembered that it was often a term used for men who like other men, he turned his head away, a light blush on his cheeks. “Yeah, that would be no good…”

Grian looked him up and down then, trying to find any other feature to base his name off of, feeling a bit awkward since he'd never had to name anything or anyone before. His clothes weren't anything special, and his wings and bright blue glow only lended themselves to the name 'Fairy' infinitely more.

His face was beautiful, though.

Just as he was thinking that, something caught his eyes. His hands drew up, cupping his fairy's cheeks, who had gone stiff at the contact, his thumb rubbing with a touch almost like air at the edges of a scab that was starting to form over a newly made cut that dragged across his nose, long and jagged and uneven.

“This is recent…” Grian said, a big frown painting his face. The rain had washed away all the blood, but there would no doubt be a scar forming under those blue colored scabs. Grian thought about what he could do to keep it clean and help it heal properly, but he knew it would be nearly impossible to cover a wound on someone's face like this without proper bandages. He would have to leave it be for now.

Suddenly, the fairy boy had lifted his own hand, the sound of jangling metal catching Grian's attention after going unnoticed till just now. Grian's eyes caught onto the shackle that clung to the other's right wrist, the metal chain that still held tight to it was snapped at the end, even though it wasn’t at all rusty. The skin surrounding the cold steel was covered in old scars that had begun to fade.

“Did you try getting these off the hard way..?” He said, his voice quiet and unsure. He looked down and saw a similar shackle around his left ankle, the same scattered scars surrounding it, many, like the rings inside a tree.

“If you’re the one from the mansion then.. you were down there by yourself for a pretty long time, huh..?” He asked, as he reached for the fairy’s other arm. Blue stained the fabric of the clothing around where a large gash tore through the material, and from what Grian could see, his arm as well. His hand rested on his arm and then slid the fabric of the torn sleeve up to his shoulder.

“With how many scars you have we might as well just call you Scar.” He said with a light chuckle.

The other only watched him curiously and nervously, unused to any contact at all, unused to any attention on himself.

The water had rinsed this wound clean as well, fresh blue blood trying to force its way out in little drops when Grian lightly pressed the area around it. He heard a hiss from above him, turning his head slightly just to see the other looking away and biting his lip, seemingly upset he’d done that.

He was kind of cute when he was hurt.

Grian whispered a quiet ”Sorry bout that..” as he reached both his arms up behind his own head, undoing the tie on his bandana that he always wore. When it was off and he got a good look at it for the first time in seemingly forever, he realized there was a giant tear down the middle of it.

“Oh, Nether… When did that happen…?" He said, his expression scrunched and slightly pained. “Whatever... I can just ask Impulse to sew it back up later.. at least I can cover up the cut with this.”

He reached up with the bandana and went to wrap it around the other's arm but when he saw him flinch away he gave a soft smile. “I’ll be gentle.” He insisted. Of course, the other didn't really know what he said, but his tone was soft and his smile was kind. And so he held still.

Grian wrapped it up tight but not too tight with experienced hands, his own hand still covered in the bandage he had put on himself that morning, and then smiled at his handiwork.

The newly named Scar rolled his arm, clearly thinking the feeling was uncomfortable or awkward, but his eyes seemed to sparkle with some sort of extreme happiness that Grian couldn't identify the cause of. Grian only kept his warm smile plastered on his face, somehow content with not really knowing a thing about him despite how he'd felt just that morning.

It was only then that he looked out the cave entrance and realized the rain had finally stopped, along with whatever sickness had ruined him just earlier that day, and that night was now just beginning to fall. He probably wouldn't be making it back to camp today either, not like he could safely take Scar with him.

It was then that he stood up, offering a hand to Scar who only watched him, and then considered his hand with a questioning look. Grian simulated grabbing his hand with the help of his other one, then offered it again. Scar gripped it tightly this time and Grian yanked him up with a vigor that neither of them expected, Scar's body colliding against Grian's own, their chests now pressed against each other, hands still clasped together off to their sides.

Suddenly, the room ignited in a blue glow; they might’ve even been able to see the back of the cave if they'd pulled their eyes away from each other long enough to look.

Grian huffed out a breath. Their faces were both flushed to the top when they looked away, pulling themselves off eachother like they'd been stuck together with a vigorous glue.

“I’ll just grab my lantern..” Grian said as he shuffled over to grab it, head low and eyes equally as glued to the floor as he retrieved it.

He picked it up and went to reattach it to the belt, but when he saw that the hook had been snapped and broken, he turned an unimpressed stare to Scar despite the burning still in his cheeks.

“I'm guessing you did this?” He said with a gesture towards his broken belt attachment. The other looked at him with innocent puppy-like eyes, so he just rolled his own and shook his head. He attached it to the same clasp that used to carry his rope and then looked around for anything he might be missing.

His eyes caught on a flimsy piece of paper leaning against one of the walls of the cave. He walked over to it and picked it up, the ruins of another one of his maps now held between his hands. “I thought I was protecting this well..” He said with a big frown. This one was torn almost completely in half, another map now rendered entirely useless from the storms that just kept coming.

When Scar saw his disappointed look down at the piece of paper that he’d brought back, he had a sudden feeling of disappointment himself, a feeling he'd never had, and a feeling he didn't entirely understand. He walked over and tugged on one of Grian's rolled up sleeves.

“Hm? What is it, uhm... Scar?” Scar pointed out the cave entrance as he started to drag him lightly towards it. “Oh, you’re ready to go already?” He asked, confused at the sudden rush, but letting him pull him along anyway. It was only when they stood at the exit and Scar pointed down to the map and then up into the branches of the tree that Grian understood.

“Oh… Did you get it down from that tree for me?” He said, an awkward hand making its way to rub the back of his own neck. He was thankful for the consideration, even if Scar didn't really see it as helping him.

“I know you've got no clue what I'm saying but… thank you.”

But when he looked up with his usual smile and his eyes caught on the curious look that made Scar's eyes look big and cute, he thought about it for a moment, then a moment more, and decided to translate his gratitude into something more understandable for his friend. Gently, with the use of just one of his wings, he patted the top of Scar’s head gently, and then acted as if nothing happened, even when the other reached up to his head to see what had touched him. Scar looked back at where Grian had just been standing beside him, but he was already starting to exit the cave, only looking back for a moment to let out a single “Come on, Scar!” with a wave of his hand.

And Scar ran after him.

Though as soon as Scar had caught up with him, Grian had already stopped. Sure, the rain had finally let up and the rays from the setting sun were considering peeking through the heavy layer of clouds that ran from the top of the sky all the way down to the horizon, but truthfully, Grian had no clue where he was going. He assumed the rest of the expedition team would just be scared of Scar, but if he didn't go back to them, where was he going to go?

It was only when his stomach rumbled extremely loudly, his cheeks tinted red at the sound of it, that he decided on a course of action. “Let's at least find something to eat, first.”

Grian was honestly starting to miss some of his rations by the time they came upon a river to the left of the cave. He hadn't even noticed that it ran behind the large tree and all the way down to the distant Woodland Mansion, supposing the sound of adrenaline and crickets and frogs had covered up the sound of it on the night he first discovered the manor.

When they came up to the edge and Grian kneeled at the waterside, Scar followed, setting his knees gently on the ground and resting his hands on his lap. Grian's eyes caught on him; ever since Grian got his first good look at Scar, he thought he looked so polite. It was then that Scar looked down into the crystal clear water and saw a face between the ripples, staring back at him with wide eyes. He startled backwards, landing on his backside, before sending a worried, panicked glance over to Grian.

Grian laughed, bright and sunny. “You don't look that bad, Scar!” He grabbed his hand to pull him up, then ushered him back over to the water. When Scar attempted to back away, Grian refused and held his hand tight, leaning over it himself. “Come look again.”

Scar frowned, clearly there was someone else staring at him when he looked down there.

Grian smiled. “I promise it’s pretty.”

And Grian seemed so sure.

So Scar timidly knelt back down, looking into the water at the same time Grian did. The unknown face was still there, staring back at him, but off to the right, Grian’s face was there too. Surprised, Scar looked back and forth between Grian’s real face and the water, and Grian giggled.

The water-Grian giggled too.

And then, before Scar could do anything else, like process whatever emotion had just made his chest feel funny, Grian’s hand quickly splashed some water up at him, leaving him staring blankly and wondering how him being wet could possibly have happened again. His face became extremely disgruntled, giving Grian this look like he'd just started a battle he couldn't win.

’Maybe this guy CAN be dangerous...' Grian thought, but it was several moments too late and he knew it.

Grian blinked once, then twice, as if him holding as still as possible might save him from his inevitable fate. And then...

He began to run full speed in the other direction, with Scar much hotter on his tail than he would’ve liked.

“No…NO, I DON'T WANT TO BE WET AGAIN!” He yelled, only sparing a look back to see Scar dragging his cupped hands through the water as they moved, throwing it at Grian from behind and getting a solid hit on his wings. Grian squeaked. “Hey, quit it, Scar!” He said as they waggled in annoyance and flung some of the water back at him.

As Scar bent down to collect more water and splash him again, Grian flapped his large wings, taking flight and keeping himself far above Scar's reach. “What are you gonna do now?” He said with a triumphant smile, his arms crossed proudly across his chest.

Scar frowned as he lowered his head; it shook in defeat.

“That's what I thought!” Grian said, eyes closed as he pridefully gloated to himself.

His eyes only shot open when he heard the sound of wings flapping loudly around him. He turned around to see Scar behind him. Grian smirked, ever confident. “And what are you gonna do with no water?”

Scar then pointed off to the side, and when Grian looked to see what his master plan might consist of, Scar spit a stream of water directly into the side of his face...

and it was a LOT of water.

It was really warm from being in his mouth too...

Grian's stare returned to him, his eyes wide as his hand reached up to wipe his cheek with his palm. “I can't believe you… jusT DID THAT!!!”

And when Scar saw the shocked expression that had made its way to Grian's face, he hid a snicker behind his hand, his laugh coming out in breathy little huffs, laughing despite not talking...

and having fun despite not knowing why.

Grian’s eyes glossed over for just a moment when he saw him laugh.

And he didn’t know why, either.

He shook his head, letting himself descend back to the ground with arms still crossed, a more defiant look on his face than before. He was pouting, not letting himself be won over by the silly antics of the other, because if he did, he might end up in another Expedition Team, though he didn’t think Scar could come up with something so elaborate.

Grian wiped the rest of his face off with one of his sleeves that he had rolled down. “Come on, Scar!" He said, with an annoyed click of his tongue in between. "I’ll show you how to fish!” His voice still had the sound of a pout behind it.

Scar floated down gently after him, landing on his feet back near the water's edge, now happily looking down at his reflection moving with the wind in the river, his hands clasped politely behind his back.

When he looked back up, he realized that Grian had wandered off and come back when he hadn't been looking. He was now holding a fire-grabber in one of his hands, and a fire failure in the other.

Grian cocked an eyebrow at him. “Why are you looking at these so quizzically? Have you never seen a stick or a rock before? Oh, well I guess you did have to use sticks to start that fire..” He said, trailing off in thought. “Well, anyway! This time we’re not using these for fire. If you take a sharp rock and move it against the end of a stick, some of the stick goes bye bye.” He explained, using the rock to scrape away some of the wood as an example. He continued until the stick was pointy and sharp and then tossed the rock in a random direction.

He pointed to the very tip and then pointed towards where Scar's most recent arm injury was. “This will hurt! Ow!” He said.

Scar tilted his head curiously, then opened his mouth as if he wanted to say something, but then shyly shut it again, looking away back towards the water.

Grian giggled. He walked behind Scar, who looked down and around himself to try and get Grian back in his sight. Suddenly, the stick was being held in front of him from behind with Scar staring at it curiously, before he timidly placed his hands on it in the same way he saw Grian holding it just moments before.

Grian seemed to dance his way back in front of him, then he lifted Scar's arms and positioned them in the correct places, and the whole time Scar sat still and let him do it.

“When you hold it like this…-” He said, gesturing to the way Scar was now holding it with both hands, with the point aimed down towards the water. “-you can use it to stab at the fish! Oh, well..” He pointed to the water and then made a wiggly motion with his hands. He felt a little embarrassed that he couldn't explain what a fish was any better than that. Maybe Scar would still understand anyway.

Scar nodded then, almost naturally. When Grian noticed, he simply opened his mouth in surprise, and then smiled his same fond smile. Maybe he had learned it from the illagers; afterall, there was a window in his jail cell door where he had seemingly spent all his time.

Scar crouched down then, eyes serious and focused on the water as he looked for anything that wasn’t, well, his own reflection or water. His tongue poked out the side of his mouth.

Grian watched approvingly, letting him take his time and focus. The time passed them by, the storm clouds still rolling rainlessly above their heads and growing ever darker with the sky by the minute as the sun set, and by the time it had been almost ten minutes, Grian's stomach was already back to growling.

He sighed loudly to himself as he held his stomach, hunched over and curling in on himself at the gnawing feeling. “You’re doing great, Scar.” Grian said with a lopsided smile. “But let me show you how it’s done!”

Scar, as focused as before, didn’t even bother looking up when Grian had spoken, still staring at the water's edge. When he didn't move, Grian suspected that maybe he had actually fallen asleep with his eyes open. Somehow, he wouldn’t be surprised.

Still, he flapped his wings, tossing himself back into the air with his limbs spread happily at the freedom. Then, as he went to descend, he spun his body around much like a torpedo, not because he needed to, but probably because he thought it might be impressive or something of the sort to the other. He was almost happy when he saw that he had attracted Scar’s attention, and now he planned to hold it. His eyes scanned quickly for fish in the water, if he stopped to look for too long he might lose Scar’s blue eyes on his red sweater.

When he spotted a particularly large salmon attempting to swim upstream, he flapped his wings powerfully, sending himself through the air faster than he usually would bother to move. His body twirled around, the air moving out of the way just for him as he rocketed forward like a bullet; and then right before he hit the water, his body unfurled itself, feet and their sharp talons dragging through the water and clenching tight into the flesh of an extremely fresh, still wriggling fish. His wings flapped slowly now as he turned around, lifting his feet as much as he could in the air to show off the fish to Scar, who simply blinked in awe. He hadn’t even spotted one before Grian had pulled one out of the water with ease!

Grian flapped his way by Scar, slowly and intently attempting to pass the fish to him, though Scar struggled to grab it from him, stumbling after him as Grian moved gently around him, though Grian’s movements became more devious as he began to dodge him on purpose. Scar pouted then, arms crossed the same way Grian had done before. Grian only laughed before flying up and over him and then dropping it atop his head, only for it to flop its way off of him and onto the ground. Scar looked down at it and then up at Grian in surprise.

“Look, Scar! You caught one!” Grian beamed, and as Scar picked it up despite its flopping, he gave Grian a small, intentional smile.

It wasn’t that he was copying him just for the sake of it. Whenever Grian did something, it was like the same thing burst forth from somewhere deep inside Scar. It filled him with this weird feeling of warmth, like Grian's clothes and his lantern and the sun and the moss... and it was almost the same as knowing what everything meant. It was the same as understanding that Grian smiled because he was happy or having fun. It was the same as understanding the frown on Grian's face when he messed with him...

It was the same as knowing what it was to mess with someone at all.

He was becoming a mosaic of everything warm around him, and so, for the most part…

He became Grian, too.

Grian rolled his shoulder as he watched Scar seemingly not know what to do with his newly acquired fish. “Have you ever even had something to eat before? I suppose they might not have fed you in that cell, huh? Well, I’ll show you how to cook it anyway! I’m sure you know how to make a fire by now?” He said with a knowing smile as he gestured down to his lantern again.

Scar looked down at it, wings perking up a little bit when he understood the word 'fire'. “Ffff..-” Fell out of his mouth before he forcefully closed it, looking away with his embarrassment showing on his cheeks. He gave an extremely 'natural' nod instead.

And so without any more explanation from Grian, they both took to gathering the sticks that laid close to the large tree, Grian partaking in Scar's warm silence that he never got to hear back with his own team. He could get used to this. Oh, he could definitely get used to this.

It was only then though, when he glanced over to Scar who was proudly collecting sticks, that he realized...

’I don’t think I can stay with you...’

His expression fell just like his mood, plummeting away from him through the moss and into the ground deep, deep below them, with the silverfish and the spiders and the dark. He supposed down there it was quiet, too.

It was only when Scar had glided up to the spot right in front of him that Grian looked back up again, eyes landing on a warm, prideful smile and his hands that held the firewood like they were his own newborn child.

And when he saw that smile he thought maybe he would simply have to find a way to convince his team that Scar wasn't a threat, and if he couldn't manage that, then… he supposed maybe he would simply quit this job for good. He could just see the corner of the crumpled, destroyed map peeking out of his bag at his waist and he smiled, soft and accepting.

He wasn't very good at his job, anyhow.

He waved his hand back towards the river and Scar followed as always. Grian started setting the sticks up into the optimal pyramid-like shape; not only did it look cool, but it also made the fire burn brighter in his opinion, though he really had no evidence to back that up. But despite Scar seeing his careful positioning of the sticks, he still looked down at Grian and simply let his entire pile of sticks fall on top of the other's, wrecking the structural stability of Grian's entire craft.

“Hey, you..-!” Grian said, his voice filled with annoyance. It was even more annoying when he looked up to see a grin that he thought someone as fairy-like as Scar shouldn't be able to have.

’Is it actually common knowledge that fairies are evil?’ He thought to himself with a pout.

He shook his head then as he sat up, fiddling with the knobs on the lantern until it blazed back to life and then undoing the latch and holding the door open for Scar. “Go ahead and get it lit, pixie. But just so you know, it’s not gonna work as well cause’ someone destroyed my stick setu-..” But just as Grian was saying that, arrogant and with hands firmly on his hips in defiance, Scar, with a fish held by the tail in one hand and a lit stick in the other, easily sent the fire blazing to life, despite the messiness and complete disregard of their kindling.

Grian deadpanned, one of his eyes twitching in frustration as Scar simply smiled, seemingly unable to do anything else despite not knowing what a smile was.

Grian was starting to wonder if he actually hated this guy or enjoyed his company so severely that it somehow came back around to pushing his buttons. Maybe it was because he knew this kind of freedom was not something he felt often anymore, and that it might run away from him at any time.

Maybe those illagers had the right idea keeping Scar locked down there in that basement, because for just a moment, Grian had thought he almost wanted to keep him to himself, somewhere where he couldn’t leave, forever.

But it seemed to him that Scar was willingly with him. Although, he didn't have a home, or a family, it seemed, so there was still nothing truly tying him down to Grian.

Nothing actually kept him with Grian besides the fact that it seemed like he wanted to be there.

Afterall, Scar had clearly broken his own chains long ago, even when he was still inside the mansion prison. And after Grian had left the door open for him, he was finally truly free. He could’ve left Grian on that cold basement floor alone and let the illagers finish him off, but he didn't.

He knew it had to have been Scar that saved him, afterall.

Who else could it be?

They sat down by the fire silently then. Grian showed Scar how to put the fish onto the spear they'd made earlier and then placed it into his hands, smoothing his hands over Scar's as he helped him position it over the fire, then letting go when it got too much for his muddled brain to handle and the side of the fish was getting roasted by the lick of the flames.

Somehow he got the feeling that one fish would be enough. He had some sort of sixth sense, or at least he liked to think he did, and he could already see the mental image of Scar tasting the fish and sticking out his tongue in disgust so clearly and vibrantly, almost as if it was a memory he’d already lived through. If not, if he was somehow wrong about this, it wouldn't hurt to show off catching another one, and Scar could eat the freshly cooked one as much as he liked.

He might even catch the entire river for him if he had wanted him to.

Grian leaned into the warmth of the fire then, pulling his legs up and hugging them in his arms before laying his head down gently on his ever rolled up sleeve; Scar watched curiously as Grian's body began to rock itself gently back and forth, bird-like feet attempting to huddle into feathers that only now poked out of the bottoms of his rolled up pants, just in this moment.

Now Scar didn't know the word for warm, but he knew the feeling ever since the first time carrying Grian, and even more so after the first time he made him a fire. And he knew that it was pleasant, and that he liked it.

So when Grian, toasty from the fire and his baggy clothes and his extra feathers seemed to almost fall over onto Scar, head now resting against the side of his arm since he was too short to lean it on his shoulder, Scar jumped for only a second, eyes staring forward into seemingly nothing, before eventually his body relaxed, letting the spot where Grian touched him burn hotter than the fire.

He didn’t even mind that he was leaning on the same arm that had the wound that he had tied up, the pulsating feeling of pain going completely ignored by choice.

It was only when he heard a tired “Scar…” from Grian’s barely parted lips that he looked down just in time to see the others' eyes open slightly. And then he watched those eyes open a little wider. And then Grian let out a much louder and much more dramatic “SCAR!”, drawing Scar's attention back towards the fire where the fish was now engulfed in flames, its skin turning a charred blackish color from its original beautiful greens and reds.

The fire had already begun creeping its way up the stick, as if it was an approaching bug that was crawling its way towards Scar's hand. Scar remembered that said bug liked to bite.

His hands flailed backward, dragging the fish from the flames in the process, but then when he realized this only brought the fire closer to himself, he shoved it back in.

Grian, who had already sat up, worried expression on his face and hands held up in front of him, prepared to help at any second, then moved to grab the stick from Scar. “It's fine, Scar! Let's just leave it in the fire!”

He saw Scar frown in response, as if he knew what Grian was insisting and didn't want to let go of the fish.

Grian yanked it from his hands then, holding it in his own as the flame continued to burn down the stick. Still he paused to give Scar a reassuring smile, though the worried expression never left the other's face. His own shiny canine teeth were showing through his lips when he said “Don’t worry. I’ll just get you another one!”

And then the fish and the fire that just brushed against the first of Grian's fingers...

...became one with the rest of the blaze.

Grian sighed loudly when it was finally over. He was relieved that Scar wouldn't be burning himself like an idiot, though he seemed scared enough of the fire as it is.

When Grian looked back at Scar though, he saw that he was now looking longingly into the fire, one hand rubbing the spot where Grian had just laid his head as if it was suddenly cold.

And before Grian could reach his hand out, to comfort him with a gentle touch or even to hold him, it seemed the clouds above them hoped to make them equally as cold as Scar’s arm had suddenly become, as without any warning, the sky opened up, giant drops of rain falling down and crashing onto the fire, extinguishing it in mere seconds. Grian shouted out some exclamation under the sound of the rain, wings barely up and over each of their heads in time to stop them from getting completely soaked. Scar looked at him through already drenched bangs that he pulled away from his eyes, only to see Grian usher him back towards the big tree with his hand. A loud crack of thunder echoed through the sky, and a bolt of lightning struck the ground with a crash near the Woodland Mansion.

They ran over to the tree, Grian's wings ultimately doing very little to protect them from the downpour. Grian frowned; it was extremely unusual for the weather to change like it was, almost like it was happening at the snap of one's fingers, instead of changing in any sort of gradual sense at all. There weren't even a few stray drops before this to indicate that the storm would pick back up again!

They walked around the outside edges of the trunk, searching for the place where the water made its way in the least, until eventually Grian stopped in his tracks, eyes staring down at the ground in slight disbelief.

“I see where you got the moss from..” He said matter-of-factly, eyes pinned on a large patch of dirt that was no doubt once blanketed in soft, fluffy green.

He watched from the corner of his eyes as Scar shook the water out of his hair like a dog who just made its way inside a house. Grian barely wondered what he had to lose before he copied the action, both of them spraying some of the water onto the other in the process. He giggled quietly under his breath over how ridiculous it really was.

The rain only fell in the occasional droplets under the trees' large branches, which Grian assumed is why he had settled down to pass out here before, though he didn't really remember much from that time. They both let their backs slide down the tree in an area that still had grass and moss for their tired bodies to rest on. They sat side by side, once again drenched, their bright feelings from before dampened quite a bit by the downpour.

It was only when another bolt of lightning crashed into a nearby tree that Scar flinched. The wood underwent an earpiercing splintering and cracking before it began to creak, slowly tipping itself over and onto the ground only several yards in front of them.

“It's not everyday that lightning strikes twice... Literally..” Grian said, staring with slight confusion at the sizzling remains of the tree in front of them, his head tilted to the side like a puppy as it watched from its place in his arms. He supposed that the forest probably wouldn't have any lightning rods to draw it away from the trees, but still, it usually stayed up high in the sky, not striking the trees and, even stranger, the ground.

He turned to Scar, who was now looking up to the sky expectantly, seemingly waiting for it to happen again, his arms wrapped around knees that he pulled close to his chest.

He placed a soaked wing around Scar's back with a smile. “Don’t worry, there's no way it can hit us under here.” He pointed to the wing he’d wrapped around him. “Safe.” He grinned, as he moved a cold, wet clump of hair away from his own eyes.

He could see him much better, now.

It was only when lightning struck the ground directly in front of the tree's large canopy, as if it was simply making its way closer to them this entire time, that Grian jumped himself. And when he looked back to find the burning dirt smoldering on the ground, he saw a pair of feet running directly through it, unbothered and quick.

“Grian! I’ve finally-” Jimmy's shouts were cut short when he found himself beneath the canopy, the water no longer running down his face in annoying heavy waves, and his vision no longer obscured. Jimmy's face shifted into something new, something uncomfortable and afraid as a feeling of dread welled up inside him at what he saw.

All his mind was screaming was...

’Grian’s with a vex...'

'He’s going to get himself killed...!’

He eyes latched onto the sword still attached to Grian's waist. They could use that to protect themselves.

For the smallest moment he heard a voice talk to him in the back of his head, quiet and unalarmed. It whispered ’Why isn’t he running...?’

And then, like the buzzing of an annoying gnat...

He swatted that thought away.

His feet carried him forward quickly, eyes catching onto Grian's surprised look just as he grabbed his arm, yanking him up onto his feet and attempting to pull him back in the direction he came.

“J-Jimmy, wait a second..!” Grian tried, wincing as he tried to pull back on his arm; but Jimmy's grip held firm.

“What is there to wait for?!” Jimmy shouted back, “You shouldn’t be anywhere near one of those things! It’ll kill you!”

He attempted to pull Grian again, the need to get him away from that thing becoming more important than the fact that Grian was gritting his teeth against his forceful yanking.

Grian's feet were sliding in the wet dirt, until suddenly his talons dug deep into the ground, and Grian pulled harder than Jimmy had, ripping his arm away and leaving it held in his own grip, his breath coming out in annoyed, tired puffs.

“Would you just stop and listen to me?!” He shouted, an aggravated hand now resting on the hilt of his sword.

Jimmy turned back around and leveled him with a concerned glare, but a glare all the same. “If you’re going to fight it off, be my guest! But don’t go talking to me like I’m crazy!!”

Grian only shook his head. “The sword isn’t for fighting him, Jim.”

The expression of shock and hurt that made its way onto Jim's face was worse than Grian had ever seen it as the rumbling of thunder rolled by, signalling that lightning was soon to strike again.

The fiery bolt burst through the canopy of leaves above, striking the ground just a foot in front of Jimmy's feet. Grian slid his right foot backwards, deep claw marks dragging through the rugged earth beneath the layer of mud, trying to keep himself steady but ready to move at any time.

“If you would just listen to me you would know that he isn’t dangerous! Does it look like he's doing anything to hurt me?!”

Jimmy shook his head, clearly deeply conflicted. “It doesn’t but...! We’ve all heard the stories, Grian! He can’t be trusted!!”

Jimmy made an attempt to move closer to Grian again. This time Grian pulled his sword.

“You think you’re any better?!” Grian's harsh look cut through Jimmy the same way his sword would’ve if he had actually swung.

“What are you talking about...?” Jimmy responded, voice subdued and meek for the first time since he'd last saw him.

“So far the only one who's hurt me is you, Jimmy! You’re a breeze hybrid yourself! Are you telling me that you weren't born with an aggressive instinct just like every other breeze?! Because if he was born hostile by nature..-” Grian said, his wing gesturing to where Scar tried to make himself seem small. “..then you had to have been too!”

Grian's face drew up in a pained expression. "Don't you remember the way you used to be treated..?" He said, his voice suddenly nearly inaudible.

Jimmy's hands clenched at his side. "This...This is different..." He tried, not even sure he was convincing himself.

Grian readjusted his grip on his sword; Impulse's name was carved into the handle that he now wielded against his own teammate.

“Then if I was born to be some passive pushover...” He pulled his red wings in close to himself. “I’m not afraid to become violent towards you.”

Scar stuck close to the tree in the back as they argued in front of him, his blue glow now completely gone from his wings and replaced with the concerned look on his face. Without his blue glow to set him apart, there really was nothing that could differentiate him between a real vex hybrid, and whatever he actually was.

Scar simply watched Grian, as if he was the difference between life and death, as if he could somehow understand his words, and as if he would follow all of them if Grian had only spoken to him, but he knew the words that he spat out weren't for him.

It was only then that Jimmy's eyes changed targets to Scar, and it didn’t take more than a single millisecond for them to catch onto the bandana, the one that he had given to Grian himself, torn and tied onto the vex's arm, his own hands now flexing open then closed at his sides.

The wings atop Jimmy's head no longer made the shape of a crown as they flattened themselves against the back of his hair.

Then, lightning struck right at Grian's feet, the smoke and blaze curling around his talons as he just barely moved himself out of the way in time.

“What are you doing giving that thing MY banda-”

“Aren’t you making this too personal, Jim?”

Jimmy's eyes grew wide, glossed over with betrayal he didn’t even deserve to feel. He took a step back to stop himself from simply falling over backwards.

“This storm…” Grian started with a firm look. “This is your doing, isn’t it?”

Jimmy shook his head, a weak expression covering his face. “I-it’s not..” He tried.

Grian only shook his head, sheathing his sword. “I’m not going back with you, Jimmy. Not if Scar can’t come and be treated normally.”

Jimmy's hands opened wide at his sides in disbelief, his voice coming out in a raspy yell, a pathetic sounding voice he didn’t even know he could make. “You even named it?!? Are you crazy?!”

Jimmy moved toward him but Grian shot a glare over his shoulder. “Don’t make this harder than it needs to be, Jim... I didn't even have to name you.” He muttered the last part under his breath.

Jimmy shook his head as lightning struck the trunk of the large tree, making it groan in agony.

The tree stayed standing.

“Even if I can't stop you, the others can!” Jimmy said, a seething rage and swirling sadness making its way into all his words.

Grian had already grabbed Scar's hand, leading him around the side of the tree. “Yes, why don't you make sure to send the more sensible ones of the group after me! Perhaps they'll see that the one letting me hold his hand isn’t some evil monster!”

Jimmy's hands dragged frustratedly through his hair, his vision going black for just a moment longer than he thought it should've. And suddenly, the next thing he knew when he looked up...

Grian had collapsed on the ground...

...with a smoldering burning running through all his feathers...

and a vex hybrid scrambling to put them out.

Chapter Text

Grian’s hands dragged up his front to cover his face, nails digging into the top of his head as the talons on his feet flailed, the sides scraping against the ground and covering themselves in mud. His entire body burned like he was on fire from the inside out, and when he tried to focus on any other feeling...

there was none.

He couldn’t feel the blood dripping out of his mouth and down the side of his head; he couldn’t feel the blaze engulfing his wings like he could feel the melting of his organs inside, and he couldn’t feel the rawness in his throat from all the screaming he had no idea he was doing.

He didn’t know anything. Not how long he was there or what had happened, and not why his body had begun to be dragged against the ground, the dirt rolling up against his face and into the corner of his eye that he wasn't sure if he could open or not even if he tried. He knew he was being pulled, sure, only barely with whatever remained of his consciousness, and he just let it happen, because he was broken, or worse, he was already dead.

It was only after what felt like a lifetime of being raked across the grass and dirt and into the mud that he finally felt a different feeling, the burning sensation inside him cooling from a blazing inferno into a simple campfire on a moonlit night.

Suddenly, he somehow felt a little more alive. The feeling of water soaking through his already drenched clothes wasn’t missed, or the sound of thunder and lightning still cracking through the sky even though it was almost completely drowned out by the loud ringing in his ears; he didn’t miss the feeling of something new rubbing gently across his cheek, either.

Grian had already given up, to a greater extent than he ever had before. He knew that if he wasn’t dead then he was dying, and that if he tried to open his eyes, the chances of him still being able to see were nearly nonexistent.

But he felt that pressure brushing against his face over and over, wiping where the dirt had rubbed and under the corners of his lips at whatever else had been there.

And somehow, it felt like reassurance, like stardust in the night sky when you feel like you can't go on anymore, like a glimmer of hope that should never have existed.

And with all of his energy, he forced open his eyes just enough for the darkness to become splotches of color, nothing but a big blurry mess of greens and greys and the big splotches of fuzzy peach reaching down towards his face that meant Scar was there. It could mean nothing else.

He knew now, somehow, someway... he would live.

But still his vision left him.

Jimmy had gotten closer to the two of them by this point, after spending minutes at a distance, horrified and unmoving, his hands glued to his mouth.

Scar's hands still held Grian's face, covered in his blood and the mud and the rain.

Jimmy took a step forward. Scar glared at him... instinctually, violently.

Scar knew the fire from the sky that was hurting Grian had gone out now, and somehow he seemed to know that Jimmy was the cause of it all.

He scooped up Grian's limp, burnt body into his arms quickly then, not sparing a single second before running in the other direction. Jimmy could do nothing but just stand there, hand outstretched and body wracking with uneven breaths.

The voices in his head were screaming.

’Oh Dragon.. I have to... I have to find Impulse...'

'NOW.’

Scar ran as far as he could into the forest, Grian's wings moving limply in the wind since Scar refused to touch them. When the fire had bit his own finger, even that had hurt; he knew that Grian was much more hurt now than he had been then.

His first priority was getting him away from that other one with wings. His second priority was figuring out how to help him, like Grian had helped Scar with his injury back then in the cave.

Suddenly, an idea came to life inside his head. His feet slowed as he took a look down at the bandana still wrapped around his arm. That's it! He only had to find somewhere to hide and something to cover the fire bites with.

He looked down with disappointment at his own dirty, soaked clothes and then Grian's, knowing they'd probably be no good to help, and also that he’d have to make another fire somewhere sometime soon.

It was only then that his eyes properly latched onto the burn mark running through Grian’s hair and down the back of his head, many of the feathers that mixed with Grian's hair that he had always found annoying were gone now, finally gone... Suddenly, Scar felt breathless, like his body refused to take in any air. His eyes began to sting.

What was wrong with him now?

He looked away from Grian's face then, eyes off to the side and landing back on the bandana tied around his own arm.

If their clothes could be dried, maybe they could still be used for his injuries.

He considered turning around and going back to the cave and starting another fire there, but it was right next to the big tree, and he could see that winged one returning and causing more pain to Grian. He frowned and it wobbled on his face.

He’d have to find a different place to light a fire.

He carried him with heavy feet, across the river with a little bit of floating, and farther away from the tree and the cave, the rain growing less and less intense the longer he went on.

Everytime Scar slowed down just a moment from the ache in his legs, a noise of pain from Grian's throat would send his feet back into motion. He followed along the edges of the next mountain wall he came across, looking for any opening to shelter inside.

When he finally found one, he knew what to do. He was learning well.

All he had to do was set Grian down gently, gather firewood from outside, then just... just...

He stared down at what was once Grian's lantern, now a melted mess of metal barely attached to the clasp on his belt. He doubted that he could start a fire with that anymore. His hands clenched into the burnt fabric of Grian's sweater.

Why were his eyes stinging again?

He would simply have to make do with what they had, though truthfully it wasn’t very much at all.

Grian's wet clothes would only make him sick again if he kept wearing them as they were, but perhaps they could at least be useful as a cover for some of his burns.

Grian's jumper was already barely holding itself together as it was, a burn mark tore through it just like the one that ran up through his hair that Scar couldn’t even bring himself to look at. He placed Grian down gently, still cradling the upper half of his body in his arms as his hands tried to get a good position on his red shirt to tear it. When he finally held it firmly, he tore as hard as he could and watched it come apart easily, just as easily as Grian's body started to slip from his grasp. He stumbled over to catch him again, hands hugging around him almost as if he would simply disappear if he let him go. He would still have to put him down to use the sweater for anything though.

He hesitantly set him down on the cold stone floor, grimacing the entire time he did so.

Grian's wings had burnt up the worst, like a wildfire blazing through an entire forest in minutes. Nearly half of his feathers were gone on each wing, some areas it was even burnt down to the flesh.

Just earlier today Grian had been happily flying around the river, and now...

Big watery drops rolled down Scar's face. He brought a hand up, confused, touching them before bringing his hand back to look. His face contorted into something awful, wiping the tears away vigorously with the side of his arm as they kept flooding back to blur his vision. He reached out to handle Grian's left wing, his hand stopping before it could even nudge a feather, not daring to touch something so fragile and hurt. His body shook down to the bone.

Grian whimpered out a noise of pain and Scar's hands were already at work. He rolled Grian gently on his side and then bent the wing against itself in the way they usually comfortably rested against his back. Then, he took the jumper and wrapped it around as much of the burn as he could, figuring out that he could tie it there with what remained of the sleeves, just like he had retied the bundle of fire starters in the Woodland Mansion all those hours ago.

It was done now, though it was a shoddy, soggy job.

His tears weren't helping with that either.

He lifted Grian's upper body and head to rest on his chest again as he thought about his next course of action. He was considering what wounds he could manage to cover with his own clothes when Grian started to stir. Scar watched the squeezing of his eyes, the clenching of his fists, the shaking of his body against Scar's shaking own. When his eyes barely opened, Scar couldn’t look away.

If he had known how to say Grian's name, he was sure he would've.

Grian blinked up blearily at him, his arms coddled close to his own body as if he was trying to hold something against his own chest, but there was nothing there in his grasp.

“Sca-”

Suddenly he hissed out in pain, his entire body clenching together when he did, like a child yet to be born. He lifted a shaky hand as far as it would go, just a few inches up before it rested on Scar's chest.

“Scar... I need you to listen to me... Okay?” His voice was uneven and wobbly as his eyes closed themselves again, but he was still awake, and he forced them back open to look at the blurry mess of colors that he knew was Scar.

“I need you to take me back, Scar. I need to go back to camp...”

Scar looked at him, his expression a muddled mess of confusion and pain that he wasn't sure Grian could even see. He placed a gentle hand on the side of Grian's face, and with his silence, it came across as a question. He didn’t understand.

Grian's head ached worse than it ever had before, his eyes closed as the memory of Scar not knowing much at all forced its way into his mind. Of course he wouldn't know what the camp was, or anything in that area. He would have to tell him something else in a way he might understand.

His breath struggled its way out of his body, his chest heaving in waves of humid but cold night air from outside the unfamiliar caves' entrance. The rain outside had stopped again.

It took a few moments for his brain to register where they were.

Grian’s lips turned themselves up into a small smile as his brain found a way to relay it to Scar, to connect with him. His hand slipped down from Scar's chest, then slowly, slowly pointed out the cave entrance, and then his unbound wing, still burnt and destroyed, slightly gestured to the area around them, an attempt to reach understanding with Scar of, at the very least, ’take me back to the other cave.’

Scar's face came closer to Grian, and Grian's hand reached up, holding his cheek and the wetness that resided there. His thumb brushed the side of his lips; they were curved down into what had to be the biggest frown he could’ve managed.

A breathy laugh left Grian's aching body. “I know you don’t want to... or you don’t get it. But could you take me back? I need to go back.” He thought about it for a moment longer; he tried to think of any other word he repeated before that might spark Scar's memory, something he would remember... and then it hit him.

“Take me back to Jimmy.”

When he felt the frown on Scar's face grow bigger he knew he had used the right word, and his body let out a giggle, though it was almost inaudible to his still ringing ears. He must be delirious from the pain, he knew that, but it was just so funny he almost thought it’d be fine to die right there.

He knew another word that he thought Scar would understand, and even though it wouldn’t be entirely true, it’d be close enough. “Jimmy safe, okay?”

His wing tapped the floor lightly. “You can set me down near.. the cave..-” His wing gestured again. “You can leave me there and-" A violent cough wracked through his body. Scar tightened his grip on him. "-..and run away.”

And even though Scar would never know what he said, he said it anyway. “Leave me there and I will come back and find you, okay?”

He smiled and Scar continued to cry.

He guessed Scar understood afterall.

And so with no other option, and Scar carrying his fear and his understanding in his own arms, they left the cave together and went back in the direction they came from, both becoming overly familiar with the sight of the large trees’ huge canopy as they made their way ever closer to it.

Grian was surprised he’d managed to stay awake for as long as he was, but truthfully the only reason he could think of was that he had simply wanted to see Scar a little longer, stay with him a little longer, because even though he said he’d find him again, he wasn’t entirely sure he’d ever be able to come back here, or back to him. So while Scar was looking up into the trees trying to keep track of the leaves from the large one, Grian's eyes were able to stare up at Scar, although it was blurry, starstruck and tired, dying and hoping. Grian's body had become cold too, but Scar was warm...

and his hands were gentle.

They were truthfully there in no time, since Scar hadn’t run all that far to begin with; though it had felt like ages to Scar. When they arrived near the clearing, Scar had peeked out from the last of the trees, eyes running over the large tree in the middle and then slowly, spotting each of the three people searching the area. He backed away, holding Grian close.

Grian smiled from his arms, and Scar looked down to memorize it. “It’s okay. Just leave me where they can see me... then you can run away, okay?”

Scar's brow furrowed in confusion, but he did remember one word that Grian had expressed earlier, Jimmy, the winged one from before. He supposed he would just approach that one, despite how much he really didn't want to, and give Grian to him.

One of his feet stepped out of the trees and into the grass, his blue glow completely disappearing and getting replaced with a dreary grey as he stared at the moss and grassblades hugging his feet.

His body forcefully took in a deep breath, all of his nerves jumping around like grasshoppers in his lungs.

Only the sound of an agonizing, loud cough wracking through Grian's body sent him tumbling forward as fast as his legs would take them, everybody in the clearing already looking their way after hearing the sound echoing from the woods.

Scar arrived near the big tree; the three in the clearing raced towards him, but they all stopped short; it was almost as if they were scared of him.

Scar looked down at Grian. Even though he was so damaged, they all stayed away from them instead of helping. Scar's expression turned from worry into a glare quickly, aimed down at Grian despite it being for the others.

Grian looked at the others through his lidded eyes, his blurry vision barely showing him a decipherable picture. Impulse was there holding the other two back with both of his arms out, but he was glaring himself. They were all more than just wary; they were angry and afraid.

Grian had to calm everybodies nerves somehow. He was probably the only one who could. So he simply patted Scar's chest with the last of his strength and said as loud as he could, “Thanks for the ride”, and though it only came out as a loud whisper, he said it with a smile warmer than any fire that Grian, or Scar, for that matter, ever made.

Scar looked back up at the other three, the same ominous feeling that he got back from the ones who inhabited the Woodland Mansion crawled down his back as fear. One of them even seemed to be made of fire, his feet burning holes into the moss below him despite the fact it was soaked, and Scar couldn’t risk Grian getting burned anymore by angering them.

So he set him down, gently, slowly on the grass and the moss, never in his lifetime missing the little wave Grian gave when he’d stood back up; the one he was unsure of the meaning of.

And when the other three started to approach, he started to step backwards.

And when he started to turn to run, he was immediately knocked to the ground, anxious air leaving his lungs as his jaw smacked against the ground below him.

When he heard a weak strangled noise from Grian he felt his body move on its own again. He tried to stand, to turn over, to do anything at all, but his wings and even his arms were now smashed between his body and someone else's.

“Leave Scar alone..” Grian begged to Impulse, who now held his upper body up gently and considered him with a serious look, his own eyes searching Grian's as if he could find the answers to everything that was happening within them. Tango still stood above them, his stance indicating he was ready for a fight at any moment, but his eyes kept flickering back to the pained look on Grian's face, until eventually it had become his own.

Scar was completely helpless on the ground, pinned beneath Jimmy and his revitalized, misplaced rage.

Scar was helpless and Grian was calling for him. He thrashed about as much as he could, the rattling of his chains making more noise than the wind in the leaves, which were still whipping about wildly despite the rain having finally stopped again.

It was dark in the forest now, most of the light had all but faded from the sky, but Tango’s fire illuminated the whole area.

Impulse looked up at Tango. “He’s burned just as badly as Jimmy said. We have to get him some first aid immediately.”

He looked back down to Grian, seeing his red jumper now burned and tied around his wing, then he looked back to the supposed vex hybrid who was having his hands tied with rope by Jimmy; he had a similar makeshift bandage on his own arm, made with the bandana that Jimmy had given to Grian.

He frowned; that didn't seem right. Why would a 'vicious vex' not only bring Grian back to them, but also try to cover his wounds like that. And despite the fact that Impulse would believe Jimmy over a stranger anyday, there had never been any stories about vexes who had the ability to manipulate lightning.

“Let's get them back to camp.” Impulse ordered, hiding the uncertainty he felt about bringing the supposed vex hybrid back to camp.

But as Grian looked up at Impulse, searching his blurry face for his thoughts on all of this, he could somehow recognize the same glimmer, the same feeling he had about Scar at the start. The confusion, and the fear, but also the sneaking feeling that he isn’t what he seems, and that he could never hurt a fly even if he tried with all his might.

’He doesn’t seem to.. deserve that...’ Impulse thought, as if him and Grian were sharing the same thoughts, albeit Grian’s were infinitely softer.

Impulse shook his head before he lifted Grian easily, thanks to his size and strength, and Grian groaned at the movement. Somehow his body ached more now than when Scar had carried him, and Scar had been running for most of it.

He watched out of the corner of his barely open eye at the roughness that Jimmy pulled Scar off the ground with, who stumbled to maintain his balance when he was forcefully placed on his feet. He gave Grian a pitiful look.

Tango seemed to go stiff when he saw the way Jimmy treated the vex, his red eyes drawing down to look at his own wrists, unbound and unharmed.

”Jimmy..” Grian growled out through bared teeth.

All of the expedition members looked at Grian with ever-concerned, shocked faces. With that many injuries, it would’ve been difficult to use so much energy looking and sounding so...

angry.

“If you so much as touch him the wrong way I will get my talons more bloody than my wings.”

Jimmy couldn’t hide the snarl that snagged his angry lips before he looked away, hands never leaving the rope around Scar's hands.

Tango looked between the two, his expression so uncomfortable and troubled it seemed like he’d rather be anywhere else.

“I.. I’ll run ahead and get the first aid stuff ready..” Tango said, his voice wavery as he turned around and dashed away.

Impulse leaned down close to Grian, and said, quietly “You’ll have to tell me your half of the story later.”

And Grian knew just what he meant.

He clearly didn't believe everything Jimmy had told him either.

Impulse had basically run him back to camp after that, and even though Grian begged him to slow down when he could no longer hear Scar and Jimmy behind them, Impulse only kept moving, more focused on Grian surviving than the safety of anyone else.

Grian didn’t want to think about what Jimmy would do to Scar if they were left alone.

Grian frowned, and then with all of his strength, he forced the talons on his feet into the side of Impulse's leg, not enough to injure him, but enough to be severely uncomfortable.

“Go back and get them!!!” Grian ordered. “If you don’t I won't let any of you help me!!”

Impulse’s eyebrows drew up in confusion and concern as his run slowed to a complete stop. “Is that... vex.. important to you?”

“YES.” Grian basically screamed, his voice raspy and filled with anxiety and worry.

“Y-you can’t leave them alone together, okay?” Grian begged, his entire body wincing at all the energy he just strained to put out.

“I-I told him he’d be safe. I told him Jimmy was safe. But that was a lie. There was no other way to get Scar to bring me back here. You have to understand. I can’t have it turn out that him being safe was a lie. He hasn’t done anything to me and I need him to be okay!”

They were close to camp by now and the sound of Grian's extremely loud begging had sent Tango barreling back towards them. “What’s wrong..? Grian, what on Dragon's green Earth is wrong?” He said, his breath coming out in short puffs from all the running he’d been doing.

Grian weakly pushed his body away from Impulse’s chest with his hand. “Hand me off to Tango! He can bring me the short distance back. You have to go find them.” Then he looked at Tango. “Jimmy. Jimmy is the problem.” He said, his expression horribly sad, knowing exactly what kind of way Tango felt about Jimmy.

Tango looked at him in return, horrified and heartbroken. What did Grian mean when he said that Jimmy was the problem?

’That.. That can’t be right.’ Tango’s mind raced, his hands clenching at his sides.

Tango shook his head. “No, I’ll go back to check on them!”

Grian bit back his yell into something barely quieter, even as Tango’s feet moved quickly in a blaze to pass them. “No, Tango! If Jimmy does anything crazy you won’t be strong enough to fight him off!”

Tango looked at him with dejected eyes. “Why would Jimmy hurt anyone...? You aren’t making any sense, Grian!”

Then he rushed off in the other direction, determined to find the vex hybrid, and determined to find his Jimmy, whom he had always trusted.

Grian looked at Impulse with sad, afraid eyes.

Impulse only shook his head. “Even if you don’t trust Jimmy, let’s put our faith in Tango to keep him calm.” And he continued to carry a disheartened Grian back to the camp, whose talons now hung weakly at Impulse's side.

Tango came upon the two in no time at all, his eyes finding the vex standing there first with a muddled expression, a mix between confusion, anger, and a complete lack of concern. It was only when Tango’s own eyes followed the piercing blue ones of the vex down to the ground that his vision found Jimmy on the ground next to him, on his side and curling into himself.

“Wha-” fell from Tango's mouth, his legs carrying him over to Jimmy before he slid down onto his knees to lift him up and hold him in his arms. “Jimmy, Jimmy, what happened...?”

He didn’t even spare a look up at the vex.

Jimmy’s eyes opened weakly, “Tango...”

Jimmy sat his body up a little in Tango’s arms, supporting himself a little more by placing his right hand on the ground, allowing him to lean away from Tango just a little.

“I’m okay..” He tried, his eyebrows and lips curving up in an attempt to be reassuring.

“D-did that thing do something to you..?” Tango said with a glare that he passed up to the vex, who only looked back down with an uncaring, unimpressed stare.

Scar rolled his shoulder as he looked away, his hands still bound behind himself, and although Jimmy no longer held the rope, he didn’t attempt to run, or to attack them, or even to leave at all.

Thought, he truthfully had considered following Grian back to camp himself.

Tango was confused. If the vex was going to attack Jimmy, he at least expected it to flee afterward, and he maybe even expected...

blood...?

“I.. I’m not sure what he did to me. One minute, I was just fine and the next.. It was like I got hit with a powerful force and I was on the ground..” He recalled, his eyes looking off into the forest when he did.

The vex leveled its eyes down at him, like it knew something that Tango didn’t, like it was filled with some kind of betrayed, unbridled rage that it would’ve used if it could’ve.

Tango considered that maybe it truthfully did have a power that they hadn’t known about.

And Tango trusted Jimmy way more than he trusted the vex. Though, that nagging feeling about the bound one burned in the back of his mind; It could be just the same as Tango had been. But if Jimmy needed Tango, he would ignore that gnawing feeling.

“Can you get up? With the two of us here you should be safe...” Tango urged.

Scar's face twisted up at Tango's words, or even more specific, his last word; he looked back towards the camp then, as if Tango had dissolved his anger in a moment and replaced it with nothing but worry.

Tango helped Jimmy up off the ground, using his hands and brushing his body off for him while he stood there, an embarrassed laugh making its way out of his mouth, his cheeks dusted a light blueish purple that the fire atop Tango’s head attempted to match.

“Do you need to lean on me..?” Tango offered. “I can help you make it back...”

Jimmy took a step back. “My body only aches a little now.. I think I can make it back.. besides, I have to make sure this vex doesn’t escape...”

Tango gave Jimmy a small smile. “I’ll hold onto the rope.. so you just take it easy on the way back, okay?”

Jimmy gave him a thankful smile in return, Tango’s own flames bouncing off the curves of his cheeks and the irises of his eyes. “I’m glad you’re always here for me, Tango.”

Tango had to look away, his feet burning a hole through the leaves beneath his feet. He started walking back, an attempt to stop himself from starting a midnight forest fire. Jimmy followed.

They walked back in a silence that bordered on uncomfortable. Between Tango’s confusion with what he’d stumbled upon, Jimmy’s apparent injury that he seemed to now be walking off just fine, and the vex, who was always completely silent unless he was near one person in specific, it made for a group of people tied together entirely by uncertainty and fear.

Scar’s feet seemed to carry him much lighter than the others, as if he was the least bothered about this out of everybody, almost as if he was happy to be tied up and taken to the camp. His eyes looked forward expectantly. And when Tango glanced over for just a moment, it almost looked like the vexes eyes were glowing a vibrant blue against the night's backdrop. But when the vex looked back at him...

it had already been blinked away.

When they arrived back at camp, Grian was already laid down on his sleeping bag, his wings splayed out beside him, though one remained wrapped in his ruined jumper. His undershirt had already been unbuttoned, the damage of the fire just barely having crawled its way down the top of his chest after burning through the collar of his shirt.

When Scar and the others caught Grian’s exhausted eyes, he sat up quickly, a loud “SCA-” coming out of his mouth before it devolved into a fit of coughs that shook their way through his whole body and sent him harshly falling back down onto his back. He winced at the ache in his wings when he did so, even if he barely had any wings left. He continued to lay reluctantly, but his eyes never left the returning group.

He didn’t miss the way Tango was holding the rope now, his fist clenched tight around it like releasing it would spell the death of them all. Grian rolled his eyes at the thought. When his vision landed back on Scar though, this time he was looking back with his gentle blue eyes; and for the first time since Grian had gotten struck, Scar smiled a small smile back at him, almost as if he was telling him personally that it would be okay. Or maybe he was just happy to see Grian getting the much needed help that they came for.

Impulse was already working his way across the fresh burns with a disinfectant that made them feel entirely renewed, as if the fire was crawling down his body all over again. Grian had to resist the urge to swat his hand away when he moved to apply some to the burns streaking their way through his hair. Impulse saw his body fidget and only gave him a small smile.

“It’ll be a good story to tell at least... when you feel like telling it, anyway...” Impulse said, his hands gently dabbing at Grian's head, though it still felt like an entire migraine despite the carefulness.

Grian's eyes had squeezed shut at some point, but he still cracked one eye open to stare at Impulse's blurry features. “Which part...?”

He knew he’d have to tell Impulse the truth about what happened with Jimmy eventually, but...

He wasn’t sure if he was ready. It was too soon.

Impulse let out a light chuckle. “No, Gri!” He said, as if he’d heard Grian’s worries personally through telepathy. “About the lightning! This burn running through your hair looks just like lightning bolts.” He said, his hand now running gently through the small remainder of Grian's locks on his right side, careful not to touch the burns anymore than he already had to.

“I think the story tells itself quite well then...” Grian said with a tired look of amusement, a feeling he didn't know he could manage right then.

Impulse shrugged his shoulders then as he gently inspected Grian's left wing, careful not to remove the ragged sweater remains without reason.

“Who knows Gri...? That kind of story is the kind that would attract the guys... if you know what I mean.” He said with a suggestive grin.

Grian's face broke into an entertained grin of his own despite the pain throbbing its way throughout his whole body. “Oh shut up, you...” He said with a weak, playful punch to the part of Impulse's arm that he could reach. “I’m not trying to attract any guys...” He insisted, a light pink blush dusting his cheeks. His eyes moved on their own to cast a glance at Scar, as if they knew something he didn’t. He shook his head and sighed, only to realize what he’d just seen.

Were they... tying Scar's rope to a tree..?

‘Isn’t that a little too much...?’ He thought, his expression forever unimpressed with just how awful everyone else seemed to be to Scar who had, frankly, only let them drag him around the whole time.

“Am I the only one seeing an issue with that..?” Grian said, though he wasn’t expecting anyone here to really agree with him.

“Mm.. maybe a little...?” Impulse said thoughtfully, way more used to it than he'd ever admit. “But I’ll make sure he’s just fine till you’re all better.”

Grian passed him a confused look. “What do you mean...?”

“Well you two seem to take care of eachother, right...?” Impulse said as he pulled the mess of red fabric from Grian's wing, only to look up and see Scar's eyes narrowed at him. “I’m sure he’ll be okay to wait for you. For someone so vicious he seems to be sticking around willingly and without a fight. Some awful vex he is, right..?”

Grian frowned. “You clearly don’t believe he’s a bad guy, either! Why don’t you just tell Jimmy off, then? Why make us go through this at all?”

Impulse laughed. “You’re the real leader, remember? What makes you think they’d listen to someone pretending to be one?”

Grian's eyebrows curved up in concern and confusion for just a moment before he smiled, lopsided and almost reassuring. “You’re all the leader I am and more, Impulse.”

Impulse only shook his head with a fond smile as he placed Grian's ruined jumper into his hands, proceeding to pull out actual bandages from the first aid kit that Tango had dug out of Impulse’s backpack while they had been heading back. He made sure to wrap Grian’s wings as carefully as he could, leaving them bent in the same comfortable way that the vex had tied it just prior.

“The vex... er, well...” Impulse gave Grian an unsure look.

“Scar.” Grian insisted, as if the name was always balanced on his tongue, ready to topple out at any moment.

“Ah, yeah, okay.. Scar did a good job tying up your wing. I’ll do it the same way so I don’t upset him too much..” He said with a smile and an awkward glance up.

Scar was already sitting with his back against the tree, his legs curled up and hugged by his arms. He was watching Grian and Impulse with interest, or maybe even concern, but Impulse was no longer feeling the strong sense of dislike from Scar like he did when he originally removed the red jumper from Grian's wing.

Grian’s eyes danced past his other wing that was still splayed out on the ground until they landed on Scar. He gave him a warm smile, and for a second he saw Scar’s blue glow radiate from his cheeks before he averted his eyes.

Grian looked between the faces of everyone else, if they had seen the blue glow they surely would’ve known he wasn’t a vex. But nobody seemed to have noticed anything, and he frowned to himself because of it. It was only when Impulse moved in front of his vision and began to wrap up his other wing that Grian’s head and eyes rolled up to the sky.

“Do you think I’ll be able to move...?” Grian asked, the wind blowing through the feathers that remained on the wings behind his ears; they hung limply at the sides of his head since earlier.

Impulse let out a sigh through his nose. “Well you seem to be able to move your arms and wings at least a little bit, I’m sure with enough rest and patience you’ll be able to walk too. I doubt it’ll be easy though...” He said; he promptly placed his hands on his knees and stood.

“Rest for tonight, okay...? We’ll see about getting you up and around in the morning. Oh, I’ll grab you a blanket...-”

Grian rolled away slightly, flinching at the feeling of the burns on his head and wings making slight contact with the sleeping bag. “Give it to Scar.... Please. He got soaked from the rain too, and they have him seated too far away from the fire...” Grian was cradling his own arms when he said this, his eyes looking off far away as if he couldn’t bear to look over his shoulder at Scar anymore. But he knew there was no way he could stand on his own to help him, either.

It was going to be a long night.

Tomorrow...

he had to walk for sure.

And as he heard Impulse hand Scar a blanket with a "Here you go", his body was filled with a sudden exhaustion far greater than he’d felt since regaining consciousness, and he let it take him, but not before whispering a goodnight to Scar that he knew he wouldn’t be able to hear. And maybe a silent prayer to the almighty Dragon that Scar would be safe until he could protect him the same way he had been protecting him up until now.

That would have to do.

Chapter Text

When the pain in Grian’s body ushered him awake, it was extremely early the next morning. The storm clouds had finally moved on, leaving the sky visible between the tree leaves, its dark blue becoming a beautiful gradient into its lighter counterpart, which would eventually be graced by the sun's yellow rays as they came over the horizon, dazzling and bright.

He rolled till he was flat on his back despite the pain in the base of his wings. He was able to see everyone else in the camp from his new spot on the ground; he was closer to where Scar had returned him to the team, so he must’ve ended up switching spots with Tango last night. To confirm his theory, he simply glanced over to the log that he had only spent a short time at, considering how little he had actually been at camp, and he could see the dimmed glow of Tango’s fires blazing while he slept, his fireproof sleeping bag keeping the ground, and similarly, the forest, from setting alight.

Jimmy was sleeping with his back turned across the campfire from Tango. But what really caught Grian’s attention was Impulse; he was sitting next to Scar, both already awake and alert so early in the morning, and when they saw his questioning stare, they both passed him a wave. Then Impulse gave Scar a little wave too before he stood up and stretched, arms high above his head as his tail swished happily. Impulse watched as Scar mimicked the wave in return, and then he headed over to Grian’s spot across the campfire.

“You’re up early, huh, G?” Impulse said, his voice quiet so he would avoid disturbing the others.

Grian brought an aching arm up to rub his head that also ached, a few damaged feathers falling out from his hair. “You were hanging out with Scar...?” Grian asked, watching as Impulse dragged the nearby log closer to Grian.

“Yeah.. He’s not much of a talker though, is he? I tried to ask him what happened but he only gave me this confused look...” Impulse’s eyes wandered away in thought before snapping back to Grian. “Anyway, let’s see about getting you sitting. It’ll be easier to eat breakfast that way.”

“If you’re gonna do the hard work for me then I’m not gonna complain..” Grian said with a small grin as Impulse crouched down and slid his hand underneath Grian's upper back, careful not to bump his wings too much. He helped him lift his body up gently until he was sitting up in Impulse's arms.

“That’s a good start!” Impulse said supportively. “I’ll just lift you the rest of the way..”

“Oh, my savior..~” Grian said, his tone in the same cadence as a princess who was just rescued from her tower by a prince.

“Be quiet, G. Any more of that and your charm might make me drop you.~” Impulse said matter-of-factly.

Grian lowered his voice to a whisper. “If you drop me I’m pretty sure Scar actually will get you.”

“Yeah, yeah.. I’m being careful..” Impulse said with an eye roll as he lifted Grian easily and set him down gently with his back up against the log. “How’s that..?”

Grian shuffled uncomfortably. “My wings hurt, and not to mention my back... but maybe that's just because I’m old..” He said with a slight smile.

“You got hit by lightning! It’s not because you’re old!!” Impulse said, though he had to forcibly hold back the volume of his voice as well as his laughter, either that or risk waking everyone up; still, it was said with the energy and vibrancy that only a strong, enjoyable companionship could bring out of anyone.

Grian sighed dramatically to himself. “You’re just saying that to make me feel better.”

It was only then that Tango finally began to stir, rolling from his side onto his front first before lifting himself up with both of his arms, a loud groan making its way from his body. He stood up straight and raised his arms high over his head; it was in a similar manner to how Impulse always stretched, but Tango’s was more catlike in nature, almost like if a cat was somehow stretching upwards. He rolled one of his shoulders as he looked towards Impulse and Grian who regarded him with gentle smiles. He gave them a smile of his own, his sharp teeth attempting to poke out from between his lips. “Time to make breakfast already..?”

Grian held his stomach gently like it was his own lover. “I’m gonna need my rations from the past two days, I think..”

Impulse gave him a questionable look. “When was the last time you even ate..?”

Grian's eyes squeezed shut in agony. “Don’t even ask me that.. I can’t remember the last time.. Scar burned the damned fish...”

Tango and Impulse passed a look between each other. Impulse leveled him with an amused look. “You let him cook?!”

“He was doing so well!” Grian said, his voice raising like he was Scar’s lawyer anytime he had to come to his defense. “It was my fault he burned it anyway..” He muttered, more to himself than to the others.

Scar and Grian were sat directly across from each other now, and he could see his glowing blue stare dancing with orange and red whenever the fire's flames flickered out of the way for a moment.

Grian’s eyes seemed to gloss over the longer he stared, his expression an unreadable mix of emotions. “If we have any fish, make sure you give it to Scar, okay...?” He said thoughtfully. “I’m not that hungry, after all...”

Tango gave Impulse a quiet look of disgust. Impulse only shrugged. “He’s not really subtle.” He said before he began walking over to his backpack to sort through their rations for the day.

Grian was about to tell Impulse off for that statement, but he decided to just frown and reserve his energy instead.

’Be subtle about what?’ He thought. ’There’s nothing weird about being nice to my...’

His throat began to feel a little weird, scratchy and suffocating like his lungs had caught him in a lie and held his breath hostage.

’...good friend, Scar.’ He thought, lamely.

With how little Scar seemed to know about the world, Grian was not about to get his hopes up that he would end up liking him in any special kind of way.

Not like he had any reason to want him to.

The rest of the morning went by for Grian in some sort of dissociative blur. He watched Impulse bring him his own food, and then bring some to Scar, only for the fairy to stare down at it questioningly before lifting his confused gaze to Grian. Grian stabbed a piece of miscellaneous meat onto his metal fork and then lifted it to his mouth. His eyes were on Scar the whole time. When he put it between his teeth and began to chew it, he watched Scar slowly begin to copy all of his steps. Grian swallowed, but not because he was hungry. Eating with Scar was when Grian felt the most awake that morning; it was almost like they were really eating together, despite the distance and despite the way their interaction only consisted of longing stares.

It was only at this point during his daze that he realized that the rope that was originally around Scar’s hands had been tied around the broken shackle on his right hand instead, his hands now free to move, and his entire self now seeming a little less trapped.

Despite Grian’s state, he made a note to remember the important parts of his morning, like how Scar’s eyes lit up when he finally got to try a piece of fish like he had wanted to, sparkling like the sunlight surely did on the water of the river.

Grian smiled when he supposed he had been wrong about Scar’s tastes in food after all. He’d simply have to learn his preferences instead of guessing, a new kind of map all its own.

His breakfast on its own, however, was particularly uninteresting to his mind, despite the fact that he hadn’t eaten for a few days now. His mouth only became drier the longer he focused on Scar, until eventually, he simply set his fork down.

He instead diverted his eyes from Scar in an attempt to distract himself, instead watching as everybody began gearing up for their individual days. That was, until Impulse stopped them.

“Can I have everybody's attention please!” He called loudly, drawing the eyes and ears of everyone in the camp.

’And he says he’s no leader..’ Grian thought fondly, a small grin threatening to pull the corners of his lips up towards his cheeks.

When everyone who was able had made their way up around the fire, Impulse cleared his throat.

“Because of the injury to one of our members and the arrival of our new... acquaintance...” He tried, hoping his choice of word would stop any one person from growing too upset. “I think we should redistribute the roles for now so that we can make a proper map and get back to a town safely. Our first priority should be getting Grian to a hospital, and we need everybody to work on finding us a way out of here to do that. But we also can’t leave these two alone..-”

Grian tilted his head to the side, his voice coming out serious and unbothered as his fingers traced leaves on the ground. “If you untie Scar, then he can watch over me. He’s been doing a great job up till now.”

Jimmy looked at him, appalled. “There's no way in Nether that we are letting you stay here with him alone! He attacked me last night, you know!”

Grian’s face looked concerned for a second, but it was not even a moment before it got painted over with deadpan disbelief. “You seem perfectly fine to me..” He said as he crossed his tired arms across his chest, his voice not able to hide the anger he felt when Jimmy tried to lie to him.

Jimmy stepped back slightly, holding one of his arms as he looked away. “Tango saw it! He’ll tell you! I’m not crazy!”

“Well, I didn’t see it happen...” Tango replied meekly, his eyes also falling down to the ground. “...just Jimmy on the ground...” Tango’s face scrunched up in discomfort, the feeling of confrontation eating away at his insides.

“Oh, yeah?” Grian said, his voice dancing with a strange, rugged deepness that only happened when he was extremely furious. “And what could he possibly have done when his hands were tied behind his back?!” Grian’s hand waved around in annoyance from where it was tucked underneath his arms, his words evolving into a shout. The small, damaged wings on his head had begun to move again and were now flattened back, like a dog who was ready to bite.

Impulse raised his hands into the air. “Alright, boys. Let’s settle down. I already mapped out..-” He paused, hoping the joke would land while he was quiet.

It didn't.

He sighed in defeat. “I already planned out what we should do...”

And even though Impulse clearly put a lot of thought into the new regime beforehand, Jimmy still raised his voice.

“I WANT TO...I mean...-” He cleared his throat, embarrassed at how loudly his voice came out. “I want to do the mapping..” He said with a glance to Grian that almost seemed shy. Grian only narrowed his eyes at him.

“If you would just listen to what I have to say, Jimmy...” Impulse said with a roll of his eyes, which was something that he rarely ever did. “Alright let’s see... Tango, you should stay at camp and keep an eye on Grian and his friend. It should be a pretty easy task, I think. I’ll have to go out and restock our rations so that we can survive until the new map is completed. And until Grian is able to work again, whenever that is, Jimmy, you should take over map-making duty.”

Jimmy let out a sigh that almost seemed relieved, and Grian too looked away thoughtfully with a less drastic look on his face.

’At least Jimmy won't be bothering us at camp...’ Grian thought to himself.

Impulse clapped his hands together and the sound echoed loudly through the woods. “Okay everyone, let's get to work!”

And with that, everyone started to disperse.

Grian watched as they all began to head off to work. When his eyes followed Impulse, he noticed that he had already sharpened some sticks into spears prior to holding the meeting. Grian’s head had already begun to tilt with confusion before he looked down and around himself and realized Impulse's sword was nowhere to be seen. He felt a bit bad for a moment, having no clue at which point it had left his hands despite being entrusted to him. But when he noticed that Impulse was picking his new hunting spears up from the ground near where Scar was sitting, he could see their morning chat in his head quite vividly as if he’d been awake and present for it himself. He could see Impulse sit down and begin to work, and Scar watching curiously before holding out his hand, asking for a stick and sharp stone. He could see Scar whittle it perfectly, despite not knowing how to talk, and Impulse staring at him with surprise. He could see Impulse's warm smile as he said 'thank you.'

He knew deep down that Impulse must be like him about Scar, understanding and considerate. But a part of him felt like he didn't want Impulse to share the same sentiment as him, that the only one who should have the feelings Grian has for Scar should be himself. But weren’t those feelings ones that everyone should have for eachother?

But when Grian thought about what being nice to his teammates felt like, he realized that it wasn't the exact same feeling.

Grian sat there, and as he imagined Scar's peaceful morning, where nobody was judging him and he was in truly good company, he felt warm inside, and calm... calm for the first time in a while.

However, that warm and calm feeling was interrupted when Jimmy approached him.

“I, uhm.. I need some map paper.. If you have any left?”

Grian let out an impossible to miss sigh as he began to look around for his bag, only to realize that it was also missing, just like Impulse's sword. He looked more carefully at himself then, for the first time in ages, and saw that nothing was as it should be. His lantern had melted into an unrecognizable pile of metal, still somehow clasped to the burnt leather of his belt. And not only was his bag completely missing, but so were his goggles that he felt around his head for with his hand, and even the friendship bracelet that the others had made for him that he always kept safely around his ankle.

He frowned. “No, Jimmy.. I’m not sure if you've noticed, but I’ve got nothing... Not even the original map, or the map I remade that Scar had to retrieve for me after I lost it the first time...” His words faded out as he looked off into the treetops, suddenly mourning the loss of Scar’s efforts, a feeling that he didn't know he had to feel until now. Jimmy rubbed his own arm awkwardly.

“It’s okay.. I’ll go see if Impulse has anything I can use. I’ll bring you back a really good map.”

Grian only gave him a questioning look before he shrugged, his words much lighter than just a few moments before as he sent him off with a simple “Good luck, Jim.”

He was just happy he was leaving.

It was only when Impulse left down a path in the woods and Jimmy had flapped his wings till he was high in the sky, that Grian waved a hand to catch Tango's attention, calling him over.

He had an idea that just might work.

He had to get himself alone with Scar...

And he had to walk...

even if it hurts.

When Tango arrived in front of him he placed his hands on his hips. He almost had the same air as Impulse when he did that. “What's up, Grian?”

Grian mustered the most pathetic, saddest wet dog look that he could, his eyes big and shiny as he looked up at Tango. “Tango... Can you go back to the big tree for me..?”

Tango gave him an incredulous look. He crossed his arms. “What for, Grian? You know Impulse expects me to stay here and keep an eye on you. You're too hurt to be alone.”

Grian let out a dramatic sigh. “I know I’m hurt but I've lost everything I had with me.. I can't find my bag or my goggles... and I lost Impulse's sword somewhere along the way too... I even lost the friendship bracelet you all made for me.. I’m sure if you go they won't be too hard to find, whatever's left of them anyway...” He trailed off, a sudden real grimace making its way to his face. “I think they should all be there and it won't take too long so... If you would...?”

Tango let out a sigh, his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. “Alright, alright, I get it... but you have to make sure to yell for me if anything happens!! Even if I don't hear you I'm sure one of the other two will.”

Grian clapped his hands together and gave Tango a warm smile. “Thank you so much, buddy.”

Tango only shook his head as he turned around. “Just... stay there... okay? You need to rest.”

“Yes, sir!” Grian replied with deadpan enthusiasm, not to mention a salute to match.

When Tango turned his back and started heading back towards the large tree, Grian kept his eyes laser focused on his disappearing silhouette. It was only when Tango peeked back over his shoulder that Grian averted his eyes, looking across the fire to find Scar's curious stare looking back at him. And within no time at all, Tango was out of sight, along with the glow that always followed him.

Grian would have to hurry.

He immediately turned his upper body to the right, arms bracing with all their strength against the log behind him as he tried to lift himself up, his legs barely even attempting to participate at all. His eyes were squeezed shut in agony, and he yelled out when his arms gave out and he landed back on the hard forest floor where he’d started. His breath came out in heavy, labored puffs.

How was he supposed to move anywhere like this?

He passed an exhausted, timid glance over the fires flames to Scar, whose eyebrows were turned up in concern. It was only when Scar suddenly had an idea that he started moving, and Grian watched with the same curiosity Scar had been contemplating him with.

Scar picked up a long stick and sharp rock from next to him, likely leftovers from his spear making session with Impulse, and began to whittle the end of it down into a point. The top of the stick was naturally bent at a weird angle, almost like a handle, which is probably why it wasn't used earlier that morning.

It was only then that Grian realized what Scar was doing. And he barely had enough time to hold out his arms to catch the newly sharpened stick before Scar stood up and tossed it sideways over the fire at him. It landed with a whump in Grian's arms.

Grian looked back up at him with amazement in his eyes. He couldn't stop himself from grinning with how proud he felt.

He had no choice but to try again...

for Scar.

This time, from where he sat, he lifted both of his arms high with the stick in hand before stabbing it down deep into the ground in front of him. He braced his right arm on the log once again, before grabbing hold of the top of the stick with his left hand and weakly using it to pull himself up. He was glad that this stick was sturdy, because the second he had himself up on wobbly legs, his other hand flew forward to grasp the top, bracing his entire body against the branch and making it lean under his weight.

His breath came out in anguished waves as he opened one of his eyes that he didn't know he’d shut to look at Scar, who was standing there as close as his rope would let him get to Grian, patiently waiting, arms held out and expectant.

Grian let out a deep breath through his nose, and then he tried to put the pressure back onto his feet. It hurt, like all his bones were filled with fire and lead and lightning. His claws dug deep into the dirt just to keep him in place. It was only when he kept the pressure on the bottom of his feet for over a minute, eyes and mind going blurry with the pain, that it began to finally turn numb, and without the agonizing sensation from before, Grian almost thought he could do it. He felt fearful about removing the stick from the ground and placing it ahead of himself, but it would be the only way to move forward.

With all his strength, he quickly pulled the stick up with both hands before stabbing it back down a little bit in front of him. And then, he took a weak, wobbly step forward, in the right direction...

towards Scar.

He only had to ignore any feelings that pulsated through his weak body. He didn’t have time for resting or screaming. He simply lifted the stick, slammed it back down, and took a step forward, over and over, over and over. He barely noticed the warmth of the fire as he passed by it, until eventually it was all too much to take. His legs buckled beneath themselves and he fell forward, but his arms caught in a gentle grip, and when he looked up he could see the concerned, gentle eyes of Scar looking down at him. Scar gave him a slight smile, still laced with his worry.

“My savior...” Grian whispered between his strained breaths that he tried to quiet. It sounded different than when he’d said it to Impulse just earlier that day.

Scar blinked once and then replied in earnest. “G...” His face flushed as he breathed out through his nose.. “Gri...on..” He tried.

Grian's breath hitched, despite the way his body and lungs were burning and begging for air. His eyes looked at Scar in complete awe, and then the laughter started to bubble up in his throat, and he threw the rest of his body weight at his fairy, arms wrapped around his torso, and causing him to take a step back to keep them both from falling over. His arms gently held Grian up from the ground. And then he gently placed an arm under Grian's weak legs and scooped him up into his arms, who giggled in response as his arms and head leaned against Scar's chest. As long as they were together, Scar could at least move Grian that short distance, which Grian was thankful for. Scar walked them back to the tree as Grian engaged in his favorite activity, staring up at Scar from the safety of his arms.

“Since when did you learn to say my name..?” Grian inquired.

It almost seemed like Scar understood what he said, because the blush on his cheeks only got darker in response, his eyes looking off somewhere else. He sat Grian down gently against the trunk of the tree and then he gingerly sat next to him, legs tucked beneath himself like he was some sort of princess instead of a fully grown man. It didn't take any time at all for Grian to lean his head on Scar's shoulder, his hands snaking and wrapping around one of his arms and squeezing it tight.

“I missed you...” Grian muttered, even though they'd only been apart less than a day, and had barely known eachother much longer than that.

Scar blinked down at him. “M..ss.. yew...” He repeated back.

Grian smiled fondly. “You learn fast, don’t you? Did Impulse help?”

Scar seemed to think about it for a moment before he shook his head no.

Scar had simply been paying attention to Grian since the start. His brain seemed to remember the things that connected to Grian without him having to try very hard.

“Gre..en..” He repeated, almost like he just enjoyed the sound of his name on his tongue, however warped it came out.

Grian giggled, moving more of his upper body closer to Scar and hugging closer, head making its way under his arm as he hugged around his waist.

Scar’s hands hovered over Grian, suddenly flustered and unsure what to do with them.

It was only when the two of them heard the sound of feet racing back to camp that they both looked up, Grian sitting up just a little from where he held Scar, but not willing to let go in the slightest.

Tango rushed directly up to them, arms full of a variety of burnt and ruined things, his own breath leaving his body in a hurry. “Grian, what are you DOING?!”

Grian looked up at Scar, then back at Tango.

“Uhm... resting?” He tried, arms only squeezing Scar tighter.

“How did you... How did you get all the way over here?! And why are you so... close to that thing..?” His voice tapered off, filling with the sound of his worry but also a strange cadence that fell over his last words, like 'that thing' struggled to fall from his mouth no matter how many times he said it.

“He’s not that thing. He’s Scar! And he helped me over.” He looked away, eyes clouded over with a sudden sad look now that Scar was back to being the center of an interrogation. Scar ran a gentle hand through Grian’s hair when he noticed his expression and Grian let out a sigh. “Sitting by myself was just too lonesome, and I know Jimmy would never let me be this close to Scar. So if you could just let me stay here for a little.. It’s fine if you want to keep an eye on us to make sure nothing happens to me.”

Tango, who had returned with whatever seemed to remain of Grian's gear, still managed to tap his fingers on his crossed arms. “I... I don't know... Jimmy said that it injured him... but this.. you don't look.. very hurt by him...” Tango's face was not even attempting to hide his conflicted feelings, that was until Grian started going “ow, ow, ow...” while rubbing a hand against one of his legs.

Tango only frowned.

Grian gave him a small smile. “My body hurts too much, I think if you move me anymore it'll only cause more damage.”

The worst part about this is that Tango knew he was probably right, and that Grian's excuse was actually really good.

“Alright, alright, fine... but I’m not leaving camp again.”

It was only right before Tango was about to leave that Grian spotted a slight blush on his face, his eyes directed at where Scar's hand was moving through his hair.

“Are you two... I mean.. Doesn't Jimmy..?”

Tango only shook his head.

“Nevermind.”

And then he walked away, taking his armful of Grian’s ruined things with him and going to place it near Impulse's bag.

Grian closed his eyes as he let out a sigh from where his head rested beneath Scar's chest. It was so warm; it was so comfortable. And Scar's hand was so soft and considerate, skating around all the burns and only touching where his hair was still fluffy and unharmed. Grian couldn't help it, because now that he was back near Scar, he finally felt at ease again, and he could rest for real. He knew that by Scar's side...

He really would be better in no time.

And when Grian opened his eyes again, the sun had already begun to set, the yellow rays turning orange as they skated over the horizon one last time. Scar's hand in Grian’s hair had stilled, now just gently resting atop his head and providing a comforting weight.

He looked up to see closed eyes, shallow breaths making their way from partially parted lips. The fluffy antenna above his head ruffled in the slight breeze, a light blue glow gracing them for a second everytime he took a breath in.

Grian knew the others would be returning to camp soon, and truthfully, he didn't want to have to deal with Jimmy whenever he got back.

And almost as if on cue, Jimmy descended from the trees, agile and with intent, landing near the log Grian had been leaning against earlier that morning.

He looked around in confusion for a moment, a look of worry painting over his face before his eyes locked onto the two of them, warm and comfortable against their tree.

Grian held up his finger to his lips and glared with sharp eyes.

’Yell and you die’ is what he seemed to be trying to convey.

Jimmy seemed to get the hint.

He clenched his fist before walking over, seemingly using all his self control to not stomp his feet on the crunchy leaves underneath him as he did.

“What are you doing..?!” He whispered, but it just sounded like quiet yelling.

Grian waved a hand from where it was still around Scar's waist. “What does it matter? I'm fine.” Grian said back, his voice hushed and serious. “What do you need me for?”

“You shouldn't be... you... you shouldn't be near that thing..” Jimmy said, head lifted high as if his disapproval would come across better that way.

A frown mixed itself in with Grian's glare.

Jimmy let out a huff of angry breath before shoving a piece of paper towards Grian. “It's part of the new map... What do you think...?”

Grian raised a questioning eyebrow before he readjusted his face on Scar. “My hands are preoccupied.. I can't see it if it's crumpled up.” He whispered simply as if it was obvious and as if Jimmy wasn't constantly furious or concerned or both. He really couldn't care less how Jimmy felt anymore.

Jimmy grumbled to himself as he aggressively forced the wrinkles out of the paper. “I hope you know there's no way you'll be sleeping together at night.”

Grian rolled his eyes. ’Like to see you stop me.’ He mouthed.

Jimmy shoved the paper back in his face. “Here.” He was no longer whispering.

Grian scanned over it with his eyes before he shrugged. “It's okay.”

“Just okay..?” Jimmy said, shoulders falling as if he was somehow hopeful to hear something else, his fingernails eating into the edges of the paper.

Grian nodded his head towards the right side of the page. “Over here you've cut this river off too soon, it actually continues past this grove of trees and onto the other side. And over here on the left, you've completely left out the ma-”

Grian stopped himself. Did he have any reason to hide the mansion from them anymore? He considered it with his mouth left wide open before he closed it. The others might get hurt if they go there; he knew very well the place was still swarming with illagers and their vexes. It'd probably best to delay the discovery of it for as long as possible. He would simply redirect his critiques.

“You're missing the river behind the big tree here too. Do you hate rivers or something?” He said plainly, though he almost risked giving Jimmy a smile.

Jimmy turned it around as he brought it back towards his own face, examining the areas that Grian critiqued, almost as if he took it to heart and even further.

But then he turned around with a stomp and a “Whatever” and left.

It was only after the conversation had ended that he felt Scar's hand in his hair tighten for a moment before his whole body began to move. He stretched with vigor, even with Grian still on top of him, arms raised high towards the tree leaves, a mimic of Impulse and Tango's stretches, before his eyes blinked open. When he looked down and saw Grian a big smile lit up his face. “Griahn!!!!” He squeezed him in a tight hug.

“Ow..ow..ow..” Grian cringed below him at the feeling of Scar’s arms pressing against his wings.

Scar had never retracted his arms faster, blinking at him in surprise as he held his hands and arms up in the air near his own face.

It was only when Grian finally sat up that Scar let his body relax. Their attention was barely able to be pulled away from each other to notice the crunching of leaves beneath the feet of the last returning expedition member. When Impulse came into view from where they sat at the tree, he gave them a big, warm smile, as if seeing them together was personally enjoyable for him. “Hey, guys! You look comfy!”

Grian's face burned a bright red, his eyes moving to the flickering flames of the slowly dying fire. “Yeah... guess so...”

For some reason, it was more embarrassing for Impulse to comment on it than anyone else.

Impulse tried to hold back his laugh. “Did Tango help you over?”

Grian simply shook his head and pointed to Scar, who looked down and then promptly pointed back at him. Their fingertips touched. Grian's blush got deeper.

“Actually...!” Grian leaned his body away from Scar then, eyes dropping to the ground. “I’m uh... ready to go back to my log now before Jimmy even gets to complain to you.”

Impulse could basically see the steam rising off of Grian’s head in big waves, much like the ones that were visible in hot summer air.

“I’m assuming he said he wants you two to split up, huh?” He nodded to himself. “Yeah, I can see why.. Scar is just radiating danger. I think you're done for, G.”

Grian shrugged before flopping back down on Scar dramatically, already forgetting his embarrassment from a moment ago as it got painted over by Scar’s warmth. “At least let me die where I belong.”

Impulse only laughed. “Come on, let's get you back to bed for tonight. I can tell you’re... eager...-” He said, with a nod towards Scar’s makeshift cane. “-...to get moving, so I’ll work out something with Tango to get you back in shape and walking again.”

Impulse had already approached and ruffled a hand through Grian's hair before lifting him up into his arms, Scar’s hands following his body up as if he would suddenly come crashing back down; or maybe it was just that he felt like Impulse was robbing him.

He gave Grian a sad look, and Grian gave him a cute wave.

And they both found quickly that time passed slowly whenever they weren't right next to eachother, like the minutes ticking away on the hands of Grian's scorched watch were triple their original length, despite the way Grian began to count the seconds himself. And despite the already setting sun, it felt like night was just a myth, and that made sunrise feel more like a fairytale, inconceivable and unreachable, even though the sensible part of Grian knew that it would of course come eventually.

But if he’d been asked, he wouldn't care to recall the part where he ate dinner, or the part where he was helped into his bed, or the part where he laid awake for far too long, thinking about the person he could’ve been next to, if not for Jimmy. He didn't care to recall the part where he fell asleep, or even the part where he woke up.

The only important thing since being with Scar was when Tango approached him that morning after his breakfast, which he also didn't care to recall, as everyone began to disperse again for the day.

“Alright, Grian. So, Impulse gave me the rundown. We’re gonna take it slow this time, but we’re gonna get you back on your feet er...uhm... claws.. again.”

Tango bent down and retrieved the stick Scar had made for Grian the day before. “This is a good start, but having to do that stabbing into the ground over and over is just going to drain you of your energy. I’m here to help you up onto your feet, so I think it's better if we flatten out the end instead so it's more like a cane.”

But when Tango raised the pointed end up to the flame of his tail, Grian reached out to grasp it from him, the stick tugged back and forth by both pairs of hands.

“Grian, I can't make this easier for you if you don't let me..” Tango said with an unimpressed look.

“But...-” Grian leaned to the side a little, his vision catching on Scar sitting there like a sad, kicked puppy.

Grian shook his head. “Just give it to Scar! Show him how to fix it. You can't just mess up something he made for me! You’ll break his fragile heart!”

“His... fragile heart..?” And when Tango looked back at Scar and saw his pathetic expression, he didn't think he could feel more disgusted.

’What is wrong with these two...?!’ Tango thought to himself, as if he wasn’t some sort of lovestruck fool himself.

He let out a big sigh as he marched himself and the stick that Grian reluctantly forfeited to him over to Scar. He shoved it towards him unceremoniously.

“Here.”

Scar looked down at it, then back up at Tango and slowly reached out to take it. Tango flinched. “Just... don't.. don’t hurt me, okay..?”

Scar only tilted his head.

And Tango waited. And Scar waited.

Grian cupped his hands around his mouth as he shouted across the camp. “You have to tell him what to do! You can't just expect him to know if you don't say anything!”

Tango rubbed the back of his neck, the wax on his ears dripping off a little faster, which seemed to be his body's version of sweating.

“Oh, uhm... Can you... flatten the end out...? It’s too pointy..”

Scar blinked up at him. He cocked his eyebrow.

Tango sighed, begrudgingly taking a single step closer. He grabbed the sharp rock that still sat near Scar and placed it in Scar's other hand, eyes ever flickering to Scar's face as if he’d bite him at any moment.

Perhaps Tango's trust in Jimmy truly did go too far.

He pointed to the sharp end of the stick, then made a point with both of his hands before flattening them out.

Scar gave him a curious look before starting to whittle the end off quickly and with skilled hands. Then he handed it back to Tango and gave him a smile.

Tango’s eyes passed between the makeshift cane and Scar’s face, and he gave him a confused, conflicted look. “Thanks...” He said, awkwardly giving Scar a thumbs up with his free hand that Scar mimicked when Tango turned his back to return to Grian.

Grian smiled as he returned. “See! Scar’s nice!”

Tango looked off to the side. “Well, he didn’t seem mean, at least...”

Grian shook his head in disapproval. “You gotta stop believing whatever Jimmy told you. You’ve seen Scar. He sits there peacefully all day long, and whenever anyone interacts with him he responds with kindness despite not really knowing what that is or what it looks like. And maybe if you talked to him like Impulse does, you could even have a conversation together!”

Tango cocked an eyebrow at Grian. “He can talk..?”

Grian let out a light chuckle. “Well... Kind of... It’s more like a telepathic conversation usually, though...” Grian rubbed the back of his neck with a shy hand as if he were revealing something strange about himself instead of Scar.

Tango clicked his tongue. “Rightttt.. Anyway, let’s get you up and moving then.” He tossed the newly modified stick into Grian’s waiting hands, then he got close and offered him a hand. Grian smiled warmly and took it, though Tango just used it as leverage to throw Grian’s arm over his shoulders.

“It should be way easier to stand with me holding you up. Give it a try, Gri.”

Grian propped the stick on the ground, and while Tango lifted on his end, Grian tried to push himself up, too. Though it might be more fair to say that Tango had simply picked him up and placed him on his feet.

Grian’s breath went in and out of his nose in big puffs as his legs wobbled for a long moment, but Tango kept him steady.

Tango watched him with concerned eyes. “I can’t believe you did all this by yourself yesterday..”

Grian passed him a glance through eyes that had squeezed shut moments before. “Scar’s worth it.”

Tango’s eyebrows drew up in confusion on his forehead. He didn’t understand it at all. He hadn’t even heard of this Scar before, what was it, one day ago?! How could he possibly be this obsessed when he's had Jimmy practically throwing himself at him this whole time!

Tango let out a big, loud, exaggerated sigh. “Well if we’re walking back over to Scar, then let’s get a move on.”

Grian looked up at him with big, sparkling eyes, a look seldom seen on Grian. “Really?!”

Tango’s eyes bolted up to the treetops, an orange blush blazing across his cheeks. “Yeah, man, whatever...”

They took it easy then. Step by step, rest by rest, repeat.

By the time they had gotten close to Scar and Tango looked up again, he saw that Scar was standing now, as close as the rope would let him get to them. His arms were outstretched as if he was ready to catch Grian at any moment, as long as he could reach him, that is.

And when Tango saw the look of concern painting Scar’s face, he felt like maybe he did understand how they felt about each other, because that’s the same expression he knew he’d been giving to Jimmy for days on end now.

“Tango, I can make it now!” Grian said with a light, airy voice, passing him a smile like warm sunlight.

Tango couldn’t stop himself from sighing again. “Oh, whatever..” And when he let Grian slide his arm off his shoulders, Grian almost ran the last few steps before jumping back into Scar’s arms, Grian’s loud laughter mixing with the unfamiliar sound of Scar and his own. When the sound settled to nothing more than Grian’s tired breaths, he turned his head from where it rested just below Scar’s chest.

“I’ll take a break with Scar before I go back. I’m-” His words were cut off when Scar scooped him off his feet, his entire tired body now relaxing in his arms. “-..tired.” He said with a giggle. Scar’s cheeks were dusted with blue.

And this happened day after day for many, many days. Grian would walk over to Scar in the morning with the assistance of Tango, and they would sit together and enjoy the silence, except on those particular days where Grian felt like talking alot and Scar would just listen and nod along like he understood it all. And then Grian would be helped back to his side of the camp for the night, where he would spend the rest of the day's hours waiting for the next time he could walk to Scar, lay with Scar, talk to Scar...

Oftentimes they would be interrupted by Jimmy trying to show Grian the progress on the new map, and everytime Grian had something new to critique about it. And it wasn’t that something was actually wrong with the map, it was just that Grian needed more time to get his strength back so that Scar wouldn’t have to be tied up anymore... so that they could leave. It didn’t go unnoticed when, one day, Jimmy eventually fell silent about Grian being near Scar, probably used to it after several days of seeing it on end. It was clear that he was still extremely unhappy about the situation, but it seemed his original worries of Scar being dangerous had almost entirely been extinguished, despite rarely being at camp himself anymore.

And it was after a particularly long day like this, one that was filled with long interactions with Jimmy, with extra pain in Grian’s hurt body, and with a great, long distance between himself and Scar, that Grian, awake in his bed despite his closed eyes, needed to change something. If his nights continued to be just as miserable as his body felt he wasn’t sure how much longer he would be able to take it. He rolled himself onto his back despite the ache in his wings, which had the sprouts of small, new feathers peeking through some of his bandages that hadn’t been changed in a day or two; he guessed they were probably running low on fresh ones by now.

He could sit his upper body up almost with ease now, the strength in his arms now far greater than the strength in his legs had ever been. He had always been a bird of flight, what could he say? His fingers distractedly picked at his sleeping gear below him, his eyes wandering even though they always landed back on Scar, who was sleeping peacefully, his arms hugging his legs as he sat with his back against his tree, the same way he always preferred to sleep.

Grian’s cane was right beside him when he reached down and felt for it. It was never far since he needed it for just about everything he wanted to do now. And even though Tango had stopped holding him up the entire way over, Grian still struggled to make it the entire distance before his legs attempted to collapse beneath him. Still, the night was miserable alone.

Why not grab some company for himself?

He leaned his body against the side of the nearby log, his free hand grabbing the cane and using it as extra leverage. He was feeling proud of himself when he had stood up quite easily, but when his legs wobbled and tried to send him falling backwards, he had to silence the noise of panic that attempted to force its way out of his throat. Both of his hands were holding onto the cane after he tipped himself back onto the fronts of his feet, his entire body shaking as he let out an anxious breath.

And then he started his slow way over. And as he struggled his way up to the campfire and then around the side of it, he thought about how he much rather would’ve preferred to just be using crutches at this point, but then he remembered that someone would have to miraculously create them out of sticks in the forest and then shook his head at his own dumb idea. It would’ve been way easier for him to use, though. That part he would still admit to himself was true; and fifty percent of his thoughts being correct is better than zero percent.

When he’d snapped himself out of his thoughts and finally looked back up to see how close he was, he was met by the blue glow of one of Scar’s eyes staring at him from where his head rested in his arms, his expression difficult for Grian to read. Still, Scar never failed to stand in time to catch Grian, as his distracted mind caused him to stumble, and Scar’s arms stopped him from falling.

Grian looked up at him, now clearly able to see the big grin that painted his face.

“Sorry...” Grian whispered up at him.

Scar smiled bigger. “S’okay...”

Grian thought he might just fall over again. It had been almost two weeks since his injury, which meant two weeks of being in camp with Scar, talking to him over and over again and enjoying every moment of it. But everytime Scar said something new, Grian just felt giddy, like he was a child and he’d just woken up on Christmas morning.

Grian breathed out, hopeful that the darkness was hiding the blush on his cheeks.

“What else can you say...?” He tried, not entirely expecting an answer; but wouldn’t it be nice if he got one?

Scar seemed to think about it for a moment, hands still supporting Grian from under his arms in what could almost be considered a hug.

”Proud...” Scar whispered simply. He had learned it from all the times he’d overheard Grian saying it in tandem with his name, when talking about what he’d crafted with the nearby sticks, or what new word he’d managed to say that day, or even when he seemingly did nothing at all. It was almost like ‘proud’ had simply become part of Scar’s name by this point, and he planned to make it part of Grian’s, too. Because proud was a word that means ‘you do good’, and Grian always did good, but even more so now.

Grian’s mouth wobbled, then opened, then closed back into that same wobbly, hard to read expression. Then, without warning, he hid his face in Scar’s chest, rubbing it against the fabric there. “Not fair...” He muttered from his new hiding spot.

Scar only did his usual quiet, breathy laugh. Grian could feel it in the rising and falling of his chest.

Scar spun them around ever so gently so that Grian was closer to the tree. He smiled when he managed to get Grian to look up at him, despite the embarrassed pout that was on his face, and the blush that the fire was now illuminating.

“Sit...” Scar said, helping him take the steps towards the tree instead of picking him up like usual. But when they sat down side by side, he still patted his lap for Grian to lay on, the same place he would’ve ended up in if he had gotten carried there anyway.

“Grian, Scar... talk...” Scar insisted, his usual silence replaced with something Grian had never heard before... Scar breaking the silence himself.

And talk they did, long into the night, the flow of conversation surprising both of them despite Scar’s short, simple replies. But they were balanced easily with Grian’s lengthy, excitable responses; the feeling they got when passing words between them was entirely innate. They talked until the silence fell naturally, much like their eyelids that closed together, their bodies fit together like a two piece puzzle as they drifted off to sleep.

And then, as life would have it for any person, they did it again and again, the great rinse and repeat. A repeat of that same warmth everyday. A repeat of that same silent, undeclared love everyday.

Grian would sneak back to his side of camp before morning broke each day, and the difficulty of keeping their secret, of walking back and forth each night, all of it only made Grian feel stronger.

And as more days passed, and the night fell on the two beneath Scar’s tree again, they found that they had fallen into a deep sleep...

And everyone in camp shared a dream.

Chapter Text

When the world burst forth into color, it was a bright, sunny day. The skies were vast, open and blue, the cerulean matching the color of salty coral reef water and without a cloud in sight.

A young boy in a red sweater walked downhill on a long winding trail, the tall grasses moving like ocean waves in the wind and speckled with thousands of wildflowers that swam like fish in the currents. He moved recklessly over the uneven dirt and rock path, his feet slipping and sliding down a slope and causing him to stumble, only barely keeping himself from falling the whole way down.

He looked over his shoulder and the backpack he wore to glance at his wings, small and barely spanning half the length of his arms when he held them out. If only he could fly then maybe his knees wouldn't be so scraped and the bottoms of his feet wouldn't be so sore.

He was heading to a village that he'd spotted from over yonder, the outdated wooden building style signalling that it was likely populated by villagers rather than humans or hybrids like himself. His family had sent him out to go buy food for supper, and with the few emeralds that he had bumping around in the pocket of his shorts, he should be able to bargain something off of the villagers.

As he neared the village entrance he could see that he had been right about the main population. On the right side of the small town were villagers who were farming, picking fresh, large, orange carrots out of the ground and placing them in a large crate nearby as others replanted behind them. From where the boy squinted, he thought he could see a wheat farm a bit farther into the village and behind a few buildings on the right. He held his stomach as it began to growl. He would much rather prefer to get some bread over the carrots.

He let his feet carry him past the first farm and the many houses, all the while the villagers went about their business; the blacksmith working the forge waved at him when he saw him go by and the boy waved back. A cat skittered past the boy and through a small space between two buildings. It turned back to stare at the boy curiously before it continued to run in the other direction.

When he had made it to the wheat farm, he stood there awkwardly, his hands dancing around the three small emeralds in his pocket. The villagers seemed so focused on the farming that he wasn't sure which one he should try to get the attention of. It was only when one approached him from a nearby house that he stuttered out some words.

“O-oh uhm.. Do you know where I can get some bread..?” He said, awkwardly rubbing one of his arms as he scraped one of his talons against the ground.

The villager made some indecipherable noises that the boy struggled to tell the difference between, since they spoke a completely different language than the humans and hybrids spoke in this area. It was only when the villager held up three fingers and then held his hand out that the boy cringed to himself. If that meant three emeralds was the cost for one loaf of bread then...

He fished the emeralds out of his pocket, holding them out timidly to the villager who took them without a second thought. He was disappointed to find out that he was right, and when he received his one loaf of bread in return he barely had the energy to say thank you.

His family was on the larger side, with his mother, father, and three other siblings. There was no way this was going to be enough food, and that meant he probably wasn't going to be eating very much at all that night.

It was only when he had turned around, already accepting that this was the most he’d be able to get, when he started to hear the sound of startled villagers behind him and the shuffling of many pairs of running feet as they began to flee past him.

And when he turned back to look, expecting a raid from a group of deadly illagers or even a dangerous daytime monster, like a creeper, to have wandered into town, all he saw was a little boy, one who seemed to be almost his age, if only a little younger and shorter. He was confused when his chest started to feel tight, as if his instincts knew something he didn't.

But the boy at the entrance seemed to curl in on himself, the sad look on his face rivaling the dreary look of the dark clouds that had suddenly begun to race over the horizon. Despite Grian's conflicted internal feelings, when he saw someone who looked even more distraught and dejected than he had been just moments before, he didn't want to let them be. And despite the way the clouds had already reached them, opening up the sky into a depressing downpour and ruining the bread he’d just bought for his family back at home, he still rushed over to the boy in front of him who he was sure had just started to cry.

There wasn't really any way to talk over the sound of crashing rain, and he was pretty sure the villagers had fled to the other side of the village, so he grabbed the boys hand who stumbled at the touch and he dragged him into the nearest abandoned house, the two tumbling onto the floor in a pile of wet feathers and sopping clothes.

The shorter boy coughed weakly into his hand. “What are you doing?!” His voice started as a startled shout before it tapered off into something quieter, weaker. “Why aren't you running away from me..?”

The boy in the red jumper wiped the water away from his eyes with his long sleeve. “Why would I?” He said between annoyed grunts as he threw the soggy bread across the room with one hand and wiped the water away with his other. “You didn't do anything to make me run away.”

The other clenched his fists against the floor, the water dripping from his hair and white wings onto his hands and the ground below him. He let out a pathetic laugh, the kind only a child could make. “Nobody has ever not run from me before...”

The smaller boy repositioned his body then so he was sitting with his knees to his chest. “Did you come here for food too?”

The other looked to his side at the soggy remains of the bread that had fallen apart on the floor. “Ah, yeah but I guess I probably won't be going home with anything now..” He said, though he sounded more thoughtful than sad about it.

“Oh..” The small one said, his body suddenly wrapping itself tightly in the six white wings that sprouted from his back. “I’m sorry... that's probably my fault...”

The other raised a questioning eyebrow at him, before he started laughing, bright and unbothered. “What do you mean?!” He blurted out between chuckles. “You didn't make it storm!”

The other looked at him with wide, glistening eyes, as if he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “You really think so...?”

“Of course, I do!” He had stood up already by then, holding his hand out for the one who still sat in an unsure pile on the ground. “Grian’s got your back.” He said with a smile, despite it being a strange way to introduce himself.

The other turned his head away, a shy expression making its way onto his face as he accepted the hand and got pulled to his feet. “Jimmy’s thankful...”

Grian threw his arm around Jimmy’s shoulders then. “How about we go and get ourselves some food then! Just like we wanted!”

Jimmy gave him a questioning look, his foot kicking against the floorboard beneath him. “You saw that all the villagers are scared of me... I don’t think they’ll let us have any... especially since I don't have any money...”

Grian only laughed as he leveled him with a mischievous look, leaning in close as if he was sharing a secret between good friends. “If no ones around then no ones guarding the farm! It’s thanks to you that we can get some!”

“We’re.. gonna steal..?”

“Come onnn.. They’ve got plenty! Us kids gotta stick together, right?”

Jimmy gave him a small smile. “Yeah..!”

Grian ran the couple of steps to the front door, turning back to make sure Jimmy would follow him back out into the storm. Jimmy's legs didn't hesitate at all.

Their laughter mixed with the rain as they barreled out the door, leaving it ajar and the floor soaked in water, the only sign that the two boys had existed at all.

The only sign that flowers grow with water and love.

They raced through the village, with Grian leading them down towards the carrot farm, knowing that wheat on its own was useless to them. The long blue scarf that Jimmy wore blew behind him wildly in the wind.

They barely even noticed the storm at all anymore.

Grian was looking back for Jimmy every other moment, and Jimmy couldn't look away from Grian at all. His red sweater stood out so much in the greys and blues that Jimmy always saw. The storm in his heart calmed a little bit, and so did the rain that soaked them.

As Jimmy passed by the last few buildings, he heard the concerned noises of the villagers huddled together inside, the fear in their voices causing him to feel the twinge of shame he always felt. It was only when he looked up and saw Grian, his arms already filled to the top with bright orange carrots that also stood out from the backdrop, that he shook his head and went to join him. Today they were just some robbers, a pair of bad boys for one day.

Just one day... that's what Jimmy had thought, but as Grian began to exit the village the way he’d come in, covered in mud and drenched in rain and barely able to look forward over his abundance of carrots, he still stopped and turned around to Jimmy, who had already stopped in his tracks.

“Aren't you coming?” He asked, his expression had turned into something more indiscernible to Jimmy, it was both blank and yet still swirling with underlying emotions.

“Coming? Where?” Jimmy asked, his own smaller armful of carrots suddenly feeling weightless as his breath left his body expectantly.

“You have nowhere to go right? You can come with me. I’m sure my family will have no problem letting you stay when they hear about all these carrots you... bought for me.” He said the last part with a knowing smile.

Jimmy felt his head spin. Him? Go home? He’d be able to have a home? The thought was almost too good to be true. He wanted to see it. He wanted to follow Grian and see what home was like. And so he did.

They walked the long winding trails together, Grian asking the younger boy a ton of questions that he often didn't have an answer to, so whenever Grian was met with silence, he would just kindly ask another easier question instead, like “What's your favorite color?”

The other looked thoughtfully at him. “Red...”

Grian simply looked him up and down, then laughed to himself about all the blue he saw.

“And what animal do you like the most?” Grian asked just a few minutes later after another silent response from Jimmy.

Jimmy's eyes were still focused on Grian. “Bird's are cool...”

Grian turned to him with a bright smile. “We’re the best!”

Jimmy smiled back. “Yeah... I guess we are.”

They had been headed away from the villager inhabited villages and back towards a mostly human populated larger settlement. Grian walked in easily through the guarded gate, but Jimmy's legs stuttered to a stop in front of it. His eyes wearily dragged over the sharp metal spears that the guards held, and the even sharper glares that they wielded.

“It’s okay. You can come in.” Grian urged, stepping himself back out through the gate and grabbing Jimmy's hand, a few carrots toppling out onto the ground as he pulled him through the entrance. The guards returned to staring out over the open fields; a horse came over to eat the carrots they’d dropped. The sun began to shine through storm clouds that they'd left behind over the horizon, and that refused to follow them.

Jimmy couldn't stop his eyes from glancing around at every passing face, seeing a few people seemingly leaving the area at the sight of him, even a mother who whispered and pulled her child away by the hand.

Grian whispered back at him. “You're worrying too much. Ignore them... Come on. My house is this way.”

He led them through the alleyways between buildings then, the inside of the village slowly filling with more and more trees, the sway of the green leaves gentle and calming. As the trees became many, the houses became little, until eventually they came up to a house nestled between two trees; it was small, the roof covered in thick foliage and shadowed from the sunlight, only small dapples of yellow making their way to dance on the pretty reddish wood. And when Grian went to turn the handle, the lively sound of children running around and playing echoed out the door.

“We’re hoooome!” Grian called inside as he led Jimmy in by the hand.

A tall woman came walking over to the door from the open kitchen area; she was wiping her hands on a towel, with her large extraordinary blue wings tucked neatly behind her.

“Grian!” She called in her sweet, gentle voice. “Welcome hom-” It was only when she looked behind Grian and his massive armful of carrots and saw Jimmy peeking out from behind that her words faltered. For a moment, she went silent, and then she smiled.

“And who's this?” She asked as she held out her apron and let Grian dump his armful of carrots into it.

“Mom, this is Jimmy! He helped me get all these carrots!”

Her laugh was gentle and soft as she returned to the kitchen then and rolled the carrots out onto the counter. When she returned to the two by the door, she closed it behind them and then offered out her apron to the smaller boy as well.

Jimmy looked at her with confusion.

She only smiled. “Well you're going to stay for dinner, right?”

“Oh..uhm...” Jimmy squeezed Grian's hand. “Yes ma'am...” He said, before putting the carrots into the apron.

Grian finally smiled again then, already leading Jimmy by the hand into the house as his mother watched, Grian's siblings suddenly going quiet when they passed by. “Come on, Jimmy!” Grian urged, even though Jimmy's steps were reluctant. “I’ll show you my room!”

As he led them up the stairs, Jimmy's quiet voice caught his attention between the squeaks of the old wooden planks. “Grian, I don't think they like me very much..”

It was only then that Grian seemed to be oblivious to it. “What do you mean? They like you like I do!”

Jimmy was sure that wasn't true.

When they got up the stairs there were only two rooms; one door sat immediately at the top of the stairs, and to the left another was farther down the hall. Grian opened the door at the top of the stairs. “This is my room! I share it with all my siblings though...”

He led him inside, closing the door behind them and then heading for one specific corner of the room, a bed in each.

His corner seemed warm and old, despite his young age. It was full of homely, toasty browns, from the sheets on the bed to the books on his shelf and even the papers that were hung on the wall. Grian didn't waste a moment taking off his muddy gear, first his bag, then his red sweater, then his pants-

Jimmy looked away into another corner of the room, a blue blush igniting his cheeks that caught Grian's eyes; it was in a color Grian had never seen before...

and it was beautiful.

Grian fished some clothes out of the dresser at the foot of his bed, and when he had finished getting changed into something warmer and cleaner and dryer, he shoved his hands back inside the messy, open drawers and pulled out a sweater in a light, toasted marshmallow brown. He tossed it behind himself at Jimmy, who got hit in the back of the head by it, and then barely had enough time to turn around and catch a pair of brown shorts, and fluffy, warm, white socks.

“What's all this for...” Jimmy asked, unsure as to why he was now holding a pile of Grian's clothes.

“It's for you! You got all muddy too...”

“I can't wear this!”

Grian shut the drawer before he turned back to look at him with his big, round eyes. “Why not..?”

Jimmy's blush got deeper. “No, I... You can't look, okay!”

Grian only nodded. “Okay!”

Jimmy turned his back to the bed then, wings held shyly against his back even though he wanted to believe that Grian wouldn't look. He decided to just get it over with, even as he heard distracting shuffling behind himself. He quickly took off his clothes that they'd ruined together and then shuffled the shorts on first. He held out the sweater in front of him, a weird feeling welling up in his throat as his hands rubbed into the fabric of the first thing he’d ever been given. He didn't have to take it. He didn't have to beg. It was just handed to him... or well, thrown at him. And he loved it.

When he turned it around to the back he could see the openings where Grian's small wings would've fit through, and when he put it on, only one pair of his own small white wings emerged. Now he was like Grian, too. His other wings laid flat against his back underneath his shirt, all but forgotten. He was like an angel.

And when he came back to consciousness from when his brain had fuzzily faded out into his thoughts, he looked back and saw that Grian had already gotten snug in his bed, his small wings fluffing happily on his back as he rubbed his cheek against his warm sheets.

Jimmy thought that his bed probably smelled good... and warm.

Grian peaked open a clearly tired eye at him then, almost as if he had simply felt his eyes staring at him.

Jimmy's hands gripped around the stitching at the bottom of the shirt then. “You said you wouldn't look!”

Grian giggled. “I didn't. You looked first.” He patted the bed then and rolled slightly over to the side.

“Come on. It's always the best to nap before dinner.”

Jimmy fidgeted, his fingers rubbing against each other in front of him. “But..-”

Grian simply rolled himself over, his back now turned to Jimmy who stared in surprise. “I’m not looking.” He had even put one of his small wings up when he said it, so even if he had looked over his shoulder, he wouldn't have been able to see Jimmy.

Jimmy let out a slightly shaky breath he hadn't known he’d been holding, and then he slowly climbed into the bed, surprised when it felt soft beneath his hands even though the boxy shape of it made it look hard. And then he slowly laid himself down, his eyes fixating on Grian's back, and the wing that slowly lowered itself back down.

And then it was quiet, and warm, and underneath Jimmy the sheets were soft. And his eyes closed easily despite the way they always stuck to Grian, and then... they both fell asleep.

When Jimmy woke up again he did it with a jolt, his body going into flight mode after forgetting where he was and hearing the sound of a woman shouting nearby. His breathing only started to slow back down from his body's sudden shock when his eyes landed on the colorful wings on Grian's back, who had just shuffled in his spot momentarily.

’Oh.. it must've been Grian's...-' He tried to remember the word for something he’d never had. '-..mom...?'

He took the hand that had clutched at his chest in his momentary fear and used it to lightly shake Grian's arm, whose feathers only poofed up further. Then he watched him roll onto his front and groan loudly, as if sleeping was his favorite activity and he wouldn't stop doing it unless he absolutely had to.

Jimmy couldn't stop the warm smile that made its way to his face.

“Grian, you wanna eat, don't you?”

It was only then that Grian sat up, his body pushed up by his arms as his wings flapped up. “I’M UP!”

And when he looked over and saw Jimmy his expression changed from surprise to awe and then to softness. “Oh, Jimmy...!” He said, voice trailing off as if he couldn't believe he was real. “Let's go eat!” He said as he climbed over Jimmy, who let out an uncharacteristically loud “Woah!!” when he did, his blush returning to his cheeks in a lighter tone.

“Come on!” Grian called from the door, already swinging it open and standing at the top of the stairs, his expectant eyes dissolving the hesitancy that always filled Jimmy's body and sending him quickly following after.

They haphazardly made their way down the stairs with quick feet and the sound of Grian's small talons clicking against the wood, and when they turned into the kitchen all of the eyes of those surrounding the table were on them. Grian's younger siblings all stared a bit unknowingly, curious but unsure about the one that Grian brought along. His parents looked between themselves with concerned expressions for a moment when their eyes noticed Grian's clothes on Jimmy.

“So this is your new friend?” The man at the table said, which Jimmy assumed must've been Grian's... other mom?

“Yeah!” Grain said excitedly, as he hopped up into a chair that already had a bowl of fresh warm stew sitting in front of it. He turned back to look at Jimmy, then at the extra chair at his side.

Jimmy looked to the floor as he climbed up, his brain too afraid of accidentally making eye contact with any one person, but when he had sat down properly, he couldn't stop his eyes from wandering up to the home cooked meal sitting in front of him, which was something he'd never seen before. The wings on his head tucked back behind his head and out of view. “Ah... uhm...”

Grian nudged him with his arm as he started shoveling spoonfuls of food into his own mouth. “gho aheahd, Jhimm..”

Jimmy’s face was warm with embarrassment, even warmer than the food, until eventually all the other children seemed to get bored of staring and started eating just as hungrily as Grian. His parents seemed to only want to be polite then as they redirected their attention to their own food, and finally he was able to bring his own spoonful up to his mouth, the flavor so vibrant and new and mouth watering that his body went stiff and he thought he might just choke on it.

His eyes welled up with silent, bubbly tears that rolled down his cheeks and onto the table. Grian watched with his cheeks full, only swapping his spoon to his left hand to grab at Jimmy's and hold it under the table.

He only sniffled in response, squeezing back weakly.

When they all had finished and Grian had helped bring all the dishes and silverware to the sink and lifted them in on his tippy toes with the help of the stretch in his small arms, his parents insisted that he go play with his new friend, and he ran off happily tugging Jimmy along by the hand in the way he always did.

“Hey, Jimmy. Do you like secrets?” Grian inquired as he led them back up towards the bedroom.

Jimmy tilted his head in confusion. He didn't think he’d ever been told one before, since nobody had ever gotten close enough to him for that. But when he thought about being able to share a secret with someone, something that just the two of them could have together, and with Grian of all people, he thought he would like nothing more than to be close to him like that.

His wings that stuck out like Grian's flapped on their own.

“I like them.” He replied.

Grian giggled ahead of him as they entered the bedroom. “Then you're gonna love this!”

He let go of Jimmy's hand as he rushed over the window at the head of his bed, and Jimmy placed his other hand where Grian's had left, trying to hold the warmth there in hopes of keeping it from going away.

Grian unlatched the window and pushed it open with force as the wood struggled to move in the frame. When it hit the top with a thunk, he ushered Jimmy over with a wave of his hand. It wasn't even a moment after Jimmy got to the window that Grian started to climb out of it, his feet gripping onto the outside of the windowsills ledge as he turned himself around. And with one last smile to Jimmy, he raised his arms up and then he was gone.

Concerned, Jimmy stuck his head out the window, looking down first, despite seeing him go up, before tilting his head towards the trees and seeing Grian's huge grin waiting for him. “Look...!” Grian whispered. “I’m on the roof...!”

Jimmy blinked at him as the setting rays of the sun illuminated his face and hair and made him shine in beautiful browns and oranges and yellows; and how gorgeous his red wings were in the light.

“Come on..” Grian insisted to his stunned companion. “I’ll help you up... You’re gonna miss the best part!”

He reached down his hand expectantly. “Usually, I flap my wings to help me up but most of yours are covered so...” He said, and when an embarrassed blush made its way to Grian's cheeks, Jimmy wished he could memorize every detail of it so he could see it forever.

He snapped himself out of his thoughts. Grian wanted him to hurry, so he would. He shuffled his small body easily out of the window, his legs wobbling as he stood up and looked down to see the ground quite far beneath him.

“It's okay.” Grian said from above. “I won't let you fall.”

And when Jimmy looked back up, he knew that he believed him.

He grabbed Grian's hand tight and Grian pulled him up with both of his, his talons scraping against the rooftop as he helped the other up. He fell on his bottom on the slanted rooftop, but that last pull meant that Jimmy was finally up too, and he led him by the hand towards the center of the rooftop; they sat there together.

The sun was just now disappearing below the horizon, the darkness of night creeping up behind them, and the lightness of day running away in front.

“I like to watch the sunset from here. It's my secret spot where it's quiet. But you can't tell my parents, okay?” He said, his grin wide.

Jimmy could barely tear his eyes away from Grian to look at the sunset. “I wouldn't...”

Grian was right, though... It was beautiful. They both had tucked their knees up to their chests in a hug, their heads resting there as the time passed by quietly, Jimmy made sure it was that way, because Grian liked it.

They watched the sun completely disappear over the horizon, and slowly, as the dark blackish-blue of the night chased after it, the sparkles of the occasional now visible stars began to appear.

While Jimmy thought that the setting sun rays looked like Grian, Grian thought that the sparkling of the bright, white, silent stars were quite like Jimmy.

It was only after the crescent moon rolled into view that Grian let out a big yawn, his eyes once again growing tired as his feathers fluffed up against the cold of night.

“I guess we should go in now...” Grian said with a glance to Jimmy, who had already closed his eyes, his breathing quiet and slow.

“Oh...” He stared, wondering if he should wake him up or let him be, and also considering if they'd get caught if they stayed there any longer. It was only then that the sound of hushed voices coming from below caught his attention, the wings behind his ears perking up at the sound. He slid down the slant of the roof quietly until eventually he got onto his knees at the edge, his head peeking down from the top and seeing the light from the kitchen pouring out of the kitchen window, the sound of voices inside dancing out into the cold, night air.

He couldn't see inside from where he was, so instead he tilted his right ear in that direction, his ear wings coming forward to cup his ears and block out the sound of the gentle wind.

“I just don't know what to do... He seems really happy... and he's never had a friend before... I don't want to hurt him like that...”

“I know how you feel. but I think it's far too dangerous to leave him near that... thing. What's going to happen when it grows up and then hurts him or the other kids or even the other villagers...?”

“I know you're right but... it doesn't make it any easier... He was smiling so much for the first time in a while... and the boy seemed so nice, too...”

“I know sweetheart. But sometimes we have to do difficult things to protect our kids and each other. Let's take a moment to collect our composure, and then we can tell him tomorrow, together...”

“Thank you, honey...”

“You’re welcome dear...”

It was only then that Grian jumped at the sound of shuffling from behind him.

“Grian..? What's going on?” Jimmy muttered, his voice full of sleep.

Grian's hands clenched tight against the side of the house. And then he let out a quiet sigh.

“Come on, Jimmy. Let's go back inside.”

Despite the tone with which he said it, he still waited by the bedroom window for Jimmy to slide his way over. Grian descended first, feet planted on the windowsill and arms reaching out to help Jimmy down, who seemed more fearless with his tiredness, letting Grian place him onto his feet without even really looking down.

They crawled inside one by one until they were both sitting on Grian's bed again, the light having been dimmed down since they were last inside. Each of the other beds now housed their usual inhabitants, including the bundled shapes of little bodies in blankets and the movement of their breathing, up and down.

Jimmy sat there tiredly on Grian's bed, but Grian was wide awake by now, his fingers picking at the woven blanket below him.

“Hey, Jimmy?”

“Yeah...?” The other said, his hand rubbing his eye that sat beneath messy bangs.

“What do you want to do..?” Grian asked, his head leaning further down as if he would curl in on himself any moment.

“What do you mean..?” The other asked, his expression now inquisitive as his eyes fell on Grian, who looked tormented by thought.

“Ah, like... how do I explain it...” He said, as his head lifted and his eyes scanned around his corner of the room.

“You know, like... dreams.. and stuff..”

“Like when you sleep..?”

“No..!” His voice had raised on its own and he forcefully quieted himself.

“No, like... for me, I want my wings to grow big like mama’s, and I want to fly, I want to fly as far as I can go and see lot’s of things.. That's why my wall has all these maps! All these people went and did what I want to do, and so sometimes I look at them and think about the places I could go. Don't you have anything like that?” Grian's knees were drawn up to his chest again as he looked over to Jimmy, who only stared with his mouth open.

All Jimmy had ever known was travelling, or maybe for the better word, wandering. He had no home, no family, and so he only carried himself to places in order to find what he needed to survive, and then he’d move on to the next.

Jimmy had never thought of it as anything special, but right then and there, with Grian talking about how much he wanted it, and Jimmy thinking about how much he wanted to belong somewhere, he suddenly thought it wasn't as lonely or difficult as he used to think.

His mouth went dry but he opened it anyway. “I want to do that, too...”

“Wha-?” Grian had to cover his mouth to stifle the loudness with which he said it, though he clearly had a wobbly smile underneath his hands. His laugh came out in breathy puffs when he moved his hand.

“You don't seem like you'd like that...” He whispered.

Jimmy had to refrain from saying that he hadn't until now.

Jimmy breathed in; the air got caught in his throat. He reached for and grabbed Grian's hands in his own. “We can go together...”

Grian's eyes went wide at the proposal.

“We can go out and we can go to new places and you can even map it out like all those people did... like you wanted to. We can be like... an exploration team!!!”

Grian's eyes glistened in the dimmed, orange lighting. It had always been tough for him, being expected to care for his family. Even if his wings weren't too small to carry him through the sky, he would've been rendered flightless anyway. He knew that. And he knew that it would be wrong to leave his family suddenly and without a goodbye like that, too. But when was he going to do something for himself?

Grian looked out the still open window, the gentle night breeze blew through his bangs and tickled his eyelashes. A bat flapped by his window outside, and a bird nestled in its nest within the all encapsulating tree leaves.

“Okay.. that sounds fun...” Grian said, though it was less of an admittance to Jimmy, and more of one to himself. He wanted to go.

“Really...?” Jimmy said, his hands already reaching for his own bag from the side of the bed.

“Only if you hurry...!” Grian said with a smile.

And so they did. They both picked up their bags, still soaking wet from that same morning, and they filled them up with Grian's extra clothes, an old compass that had been up on his shelf, and Grian even took some of his maps off the wall, though he put them safely in his pocket instead of in the bag in fear of them getting ruined.

And then they left out the window together, staring down at the ground from the windowsill, unsure of how to get down safely.

Grian looked around before spotting a bit of the closest tree's trunk through its leaves. “We can climb down the tree..! Come on!”

Jimmy followed him up the side of the roof until they were at the tree's long branches that cascaded over the back of the roof, too small for an adult to climb on, but just the right size for two, reckless young boys.

They walked carefully across them despite the dark, and when Grian had started his descend down the trunk with Jimmy in tow, one of his hands slipped, his body crashing the rest of the way down. He landed on his bottom with a groan as Jimmy quickly climbed the rest of the way down and crouched at his side.

“Are you okay...?” He whispered, but their attention was drawn back to the house where they heard the front door open.

“What was that noise...?” Grian's mom asked from the doorway of the house.

Grian only grabbed Jimmy's sleeve, his own soft sweater meeting his hands. “Jimmy.. run!” He whispered.

And Grian got up despite his aching legs and with their hands held together, they ran off into the trees...

and a single handwritten letter was left on top of Grian's bed, etched onto the back of a map that his parents had gotten for him.

And then the two boys who shared a dream...

...both faded out of that dream and into darkness.

Chapter Text

It was all scorching flames, he remembered, though they never burned him when they happened to touch. Just like him, the ground and the rivers, the underground lakes and even the skies poured down fire and burned with it neverendingly, like the fire was alive, and it breathed in the overwhelming amount of sulfur in the air, in and out, in and out, like oxygen in lungs. And it did. And he did.

He too had existed there peacefully, perpetually, for who knows how long; the concept of time had never been introduced to the pits of the Nether where they resided, and even the name of their home, derived from human origins, was unknown to them.

Even the concept of certain colors were altogether completely unknown to the ones who inhabited the rocky wasteland. Never before had blues or greens been seen, at least where he lived, and on this day, when the sudden appearance of blinding purples and unnaturally dark black amidst the reds and oranges sent the nearby piglins and their zombie counterparts scuttling away and off into the craggy hills, the air seemed to freeze, the foreign entity and its colors snuffing out the nearby flames, as if they, too, were running and hiding.

He had no clue this was happening, of course. He was off far away from this such occurance, in a fortress that was surrounded by a moat of lava that he and his friends called home. Even the one's of his companions who could fly always stayed nearby, nearby to their safe haven, and nearby to him.

His favorite spot to lounge was at the top of one of the fortresses towers. In the center of the risen walls was a shaped, metal cube; the insides, visible through cold, iron bars, were composed of a whirling unknown mass, always shifting and always changing, until eventually, someone similar to him would pop into existence with a sudden flash, though they were always different from him in one way or another. One would come to life, bearing wings of molten lava, and the next one would spit fire from its mouth; the last one would be born unfortunately with no legs at all, and he would sit and watch it weakly crawl away. He stood out in his own way too, being the only one whose body dripped with melting wax, from his ears and his head and his tail.

But this was his home, and these were his friends, so no matter what differences they had, they learned to talk to each other in their own ways, though most commonly, they just sat in silence together around the only thing they'd ever known that burned with it's coolness, waiting patiently for the next newcomer.

It was only when the sound of disturbed wither skeletons, who roamed the inside castle walls like sentries, hit the ears of those atop that castle tower who had any, like the sound of rattling bones that clanged with sudden frustration, that the many scorched ones there turned their attention to the stairs that led up to their lounge.

And then came a noise they'd never heard before, something that almost sounded like what a distressed hoglin getting slain might sound like. But it wasn't that, and the calls came one after another, loud and diverse and disturbing, and a kind of communication that nobody was familiar with.

Many of them looked between eachother with concern and fear, and even moreso, their usual silence, and the wax that fell from his ears dripped away at an exceedingly fast pace, cascading down and burning away on his hands where it landed.

And when the sound of clashing metal suddenly rang through every corridor, he stood up, his feet a blazing inferno that rivaled the temperatures of even the lava rivers, now burning even into the usually unscratchable stones of the castle's floors.

And then, three that somehow looked similar to him, with two legs, two arms, and a head each, but no feet burning with fire, and frighteningly, no fire at all, came rushing to the top of the stairs, only stopping when they saw the group of blazing creatures staring down at them, most of their gazes pupilless and burning a bright, inhuman color. When he looked over with his own red eyes, he saw that most of his friends had frozen in place, as if holding still would simply make the invaders lose interest and go back the way they had came from.

The newborn legless one, who had only come into existence just moments ago, continued to crawl around aimlessly.

It was only then that he realized it must have been blind, the spots where its eyes should be had nothing more than thick layers of skin to take their place.

One of the intruders pointed a sword at it as it crawled near his feet, but it only kept moving, it's hands weakly reaching past the man's leg as it tried to make its way down the stairs. The man stabbed through its body with a single, callous motion, and it stopped.

It was only then that the others flung fire in the men's direction, and he who had stood prior ran his way up between his friends and the invaders, jumping into the air as he sent his blazing tail into the side of one of their faces, who made another guttural sound in response, with a voice far more disturbing than any the hoglins could ever make.

When he landed back on his feet his tail swung angrily behind him, and his hair of flames atop his head burned in a furious, unquenchable purple, a color he never knew.

One of the trespassers seemed braver than the rest, holding up its bent wooden weapon, made of a material and shape that he'd never seen before, though on first inspection, it didn't seem very dangerous to him. That was before the man began using it to fling sharper, metal weapons in their direction, the familiar cold look of the iron now tearing its way unwontedly through the air. He looked back at the others, knowing he wouldn't be able to reach them in time to save them from the same fate as the other, and he watched as some took flight, while the others dove over the edge of the castle wall, holding onto the stones with whatever appendages they had to use.

Now he was the only one who willingly stood at the top. A bolt of metal was fired at his head that only barely missed, flying through the flames that blazed atop it and sending the instantly melted metal splashing down his face.

The other invaders looked between each other in concern, but the brave one of their bunch took to throwing its wooden weapon directly at the fiery one's face, whose body moved to block it in confusion while the intruder quickly maneuvered behind him, the man's hands grabbing his own and even his tail and holding them tight behind him. He struggled wildly in its grip before leaning his head back in an attempt to catch the one behind him with the blazing flames; the other ducked out of the way just in time. It yelled some more indecipherable noises to the others who rushed towards them with intent, and eventually his hands and tail couldn't move even without their hands holding them down. He growled as he wrestled against the unfamiliar bindings. His hands didn't burn hot enough to free himself.

And then they took him down the stairs he never walked down, through the fortress halls that he never saw or admired, and out of its tall walls entirely. He watched behind himself as he was pulled farther and farther away from his home, the familiar colors of the walls fading out of sight, along with the flames of the ones who now watched him go.

The intruders, who had hideous never-before-seen greens made of another's skins draped over their own, even that color was no match for the horrific swirling purple void they brought him to...

As they brought him towards it, he could just barely see through that horrid color. Through it, he saw the waterfalls of lava flowing down into the depths below, he saw the sparkle of the glowstone that danced across the caverns ceilings, he saw one of his own kind looking at him from a distance...

And then...

...his vision became drenched in that sickly purple...

...as the trespassers pushed him into the one-way portal's blinding, suffocating vortex...

and his world faded away before his eyes.

When his consciousness returned to him again like an icey metal mallet swung against his skull, it was cold, so cold...

His entire body seemed to reject wherever he was, curling in on itself as his hands reached up to grip tightly into his arms in protest of the excruciating temperature, his flames turning to black, sooty smoke that twirled away from him unnaturally in the air. His eyes squeezed shut as a cough wracked through his body, painful and coarse before it devolved into ragged wheezing. He had never experienced those sensations before, and they burned his throat in a way that he had never burned before.

He was getting pulled along by a rope that had been tied around his waist, unaware his legs had even been moving along with the others at all, and when he looked up from where his eyes dragged against the strange substance that made up the ground, he saw that everything was wrong.

When he looked up, the sky was dark blue and not red, and his eyes stung as they searched across that expanse of color that he had never seen before.

Oh, how he wished the color would change back...

And when he looked down, he saw more of that awful, blinding color that the ones who captured him wore, except this time it carried on in wide expanses like the red and the flames did back home, but it didn't carry the same stillness of stone, and instead moved in lose waves through ever moving air.

And when the path they were on eventually brought them through a gathering of smaller buildings, he found that they weren't made from stone, but instead made of the same material as the strange weapon that had been thrown at him just earlier, except for one of the structures in the very back that stood alone before the trail continued on through emptiness.

His tail twitched in its bindings, and he felt a strange exhaustion creep into the skin below his eyes. He was experiencing so many feelings he'd never felt before, and he was slowly becoming certain he would've never wanted to experience them at all.

They led him right through the entire village, as more like the men who took him made airy noises, like that of an angry ghast, as they passed by, many of them hiding behind swinging, tall panels that attached to their undoubtably flammable boxes. Even the metal weapons that they had attempted to use on him had burned, afterall. And not one of these tiny buildings could compare to the grand size of his family's tower, let alone their entire fortress.

They brought him directly to the one building that was different, the stone that was illuminated by torches was in a light grey that he had never seen before, and when they pulled him up the steps, his bare feet landing unbearably on each one, he cringed at the freezing feeling that radiated from them and into the bottoms of his feet.

It was only when another one of them, another man, another without flames or fire, rounded the corner with his tail flicking behind him, that he even looked up from where he grimaced at the floor, his face scrunched up and clearly miserable.

“What are you guys doing...?” He had said, as his ears, different from the others, lowered down at the sides of his head.

“You’ll never believe what we found in that heat death of a place! This thing is made of fire! It’ll be invaluable to this forge! You won't need to waste so much of our wood or coal anymore; it's really been sapping our resources, afterall. As our local blacksmith and our good friend, you should see the endless benefits from having it around."

“I don't need any help...” The other said plainly and without a moment of hesitation. “Besides, it's not right to kidnap someone just because they're different or useful.” He said it with a cold, unimpressed stare; it was almost like he knew exactly what they'd done without them saying a thing, though he knew all his gripes would fall on deaf, uncaring ears.

The man who spoke in his defense was clearly younger than the others, and somehow his voice was less grinding on the flaming one's ears than all the rest had been. It sounded almost as peaceful to him as their own language that flittered amongst their silence. Almost.

“You two will learn to work together." One of the kidnappers said as he got close to the younger man's face, his eyes looking down on him. "You know very well you don't have a choice, Impulse." And then he backed away ever so slightly and looked over his own shoulder to his thugs that always seemed to hover behind him. "Go find somewhere to chain him up, guys.”

Impulse watched as the blazing one got taken through the entryway and into the back room, the sound of crass metal shackles that were already stored there making him shiver in disgust. It was a cold night, too.

It was only when the group of men reemerged from the once unlit room that now shone bright with fire, and the aggressive one placed a hand on his shoulder that he looked him in the eyes.

“He’s all set back there, but I’d watch out if I were you. He's quite fiery..” The man laughed as he left, and Impulse looked through the stone doorway, the bright light flickering and blazing on the other side like they had placed the sun itself inside that small, cold, dark room.

And when he went to turn the corner, his hand lightly dragging on the cool wall next to him, a fireball came hurling in his direction, hitting a spot on the stone next to his hand, now sizzling and smoldering. He had an expression that seemed to convey he was rather unimpressed as he looked at the one who was now standing there with sharp, pointed teeth bared from his open mouth; his eyes burned with a bloody red.

Impulse simply raised his hands. “I’m not here to hurt you. In fact, I'm not the one who wants you here at all, so...”

The other seemed to calm down slightly upon hearing his voice; Impulse seemed to be the only one whose sounds weren't akin to that of the shrieking creatures back home.

It was only when he didn't respond that Impulse tilted his head. “You can't talk?” He asked, his foot stomping out a stray flame that was somehow burning away on the cold, stone floors.

The other only kept its scowl on its face, now defensive and inching away; Impulse's eyes drew to where the cold metal shackle around his ankle kept him bound to the far wall, though the chain was long.

Impulse sighed to himself. ”And I’m supposed to teach him how to work the forge?” He muttered under his breath.

He waved a hand back towards the front of the building, not entirely caring whether or not the other actually followed him.

The other lowered his defensive arms curiously, his blazing feet sizzling as they walked forward slowly.

Back at the front of the forge, Impulse had returned to making the sword he was putting together before his unwanted guests arrived. The hilt was already waiting on the counter expectantly for the blade that he now had to reheat. He grumbled something to himself as he went to grab the shovel that leaned against the wall and began to throw new coal into the furnace, the old embers attempting to burn weakly underneath the new pieces, even as some got completely snuffed out.

His brain barely even registered the bright light that turned the corner behind him, except for the sudden feeling of being watching that usually did nothing more than tick him off. He hated when he wasn’t alone.

It was only when he began to push on the bellow in an attempt to bring the weak half-lit cinders back to life, the air blowing into the furnace and sending ash back towards his face that made him want to cough, that the other took his hands off the wall that he’d been peeking around and approached from behind him.

When Impulse felt the heat against his back, he turned around quickly, the other standing there with a quizzical look, as if he was confused as to why Impulse struggled to start a fire.

And then with one quick fling of his tail, he flung a fireball deep into the center of the coals, and the entire mass blazed to life in no more than a second.

And before Impulse could thank him, the other had already wandered closer to the newly lit flames and began to warm his hands by it; his red eyes had ashy circles forming underneath, despite the fact that he'd never experienced exhaustion before this very night.

Impulse frowned then, even as he wiped away the soot from his face with one of his long, ever-dirty sleeves. It was only then that he considered what things he had stored away in the back room, and when he thought he didn’t have anything useful for what he wanted to do, he wandered his way out of the forge and over to one of the nearby houses, his knock on the door met with kind greetings and happy voices.

The blaze hybrid didn’t even notice him leaving. It was only after several long moments of his eyes staring deep into the fires, as if looking at them long enough would somehow bring him back home, that he felt something against his shoulders, and he jumped at the contact.

It was only when he heard a gentle “Careful...”, his voice falling in a way that could never have felt threatening, that he turned his head to look back over his shoulder.

His eyes met with Impulse’s, who was cautiously pushing down on the length of his tail, seemingly insisting he lower it closer to the ground. The other tried not to let the burning vision of that man binding his tail and hands behind his back cloud his judgement.

Somehow... This was different.

This was different.

Slowly, he lowered his tail, the flames on the end now gently brushing the ground and the front of Impulse’s steel-toed flame resistant boots that he always wore.

It was only then that Impulse felt safe to unroll the blanket that he had scrunched up and placed around the other's shoulders, the length of it falling down almost the entirety of his small body as Impulse pulled two of the corners around to his front and held it there for the other to grab.

The shorter one looked at him questioningly, before his hands moved to grab the front corners and hold it there the same way he had.

He was confused at first, about the reasoning for what the other one had done and the strange item he had given him, until suddenly the weird chill that blew in from outside the forge was no longer freezing his body down to the core, and that new feeling of protection against the wind paired with the warmth of the furnace fire was enough to make his tail swish happily against the floor, scorching it as it moved.

It was only after this that Impulse got back to work, the other moving aside to let him access the opening in the furnace and place a half made blade back into the fires with some metal tongs.

He watched the entire process rather peacefully, almost forgetting the chain around one of his ankles that burned with how cold it was against his hot skin, though he was always happy to remember the burn he gave to one of those abductors when he’d kicked their arm in as they shackled him.

He watched as Impulse went back and forth between the fire and his anvil, hitting away at the metal everytime that it turned bright orange in the fire and seemingly turning it into something completely different than it was at the start. The other had never seen anything like it before in his life.

It was only when Impulse was finally finished that he dunked the still hot blade into a barrel of water at the side of his anvil, the sound of the fires extinguishing quickly and viciously sending an uncomfortable chill back into the flaming one's spine.

Still he watched as Impulse attached the different pieces of metal that he had laid out, until eventually they had all become one thing, something that he had described to him as a ‘sword’ in their strange, brutish language.

And then, to the blazing one's surprise, when Impulse’s work had finished and he was seemingly done with the forge’s fires, he threw more coal atop the flames and took a seat on the ground beside it, patting the spot beside him despite the keys that jangled in the pocket of his pants.

He sat down beside him, wrapped in the blanket that he’d handed him, and then they let the night pass them by peacefully. The unnamed one glanced at him every so often out of curiosity, feeling a sense of familiarity when he saw him stay unmoving in one spot for hours on end, just like he had always done at home. For a moment, he felt like they had connected in a way, but then that spark melted away when the other muttered something under his breath in his strange tongue that he didn’t understand.

The night went by for him sleeplessly, and when morning began to dawn and the sky began to change color, his head lifted with interest, the expanse above the forge filling with yellows and oranges that made his heart catch in his throat. And as the heavens started to melt with pinks and reds and oranges and it began to feel more and more like his home was suddenly in reach, he found himself running to the edge of the forge, his chains rattling loudly before the sound finished with a loud snap, his restraints keeping him confined to the stone walls even as he pulled his leg so harshly against them, enough to make it feel like his leg was being torn from his body. He yelled out in frustration, fire burning its way out of the sides of his mouth and up into the air, his flames suddenly letting off a curdling black smoke that bounced off the forge ceilings and walls.

Impulse startled awake to the sounds that the other screamed out, and his body immediately inhaled the thick plumes of ashy air when he gasped, his lungs choking on it from his place on the ground. He coughed into his hands as he peeked through squinted shut eyes at the other; he looked like a trapped animal, with bared teeth and growling and scraping, and even though Impulse truthfully hadn’t wanted him there, he couldn’t bear to watch it.

It was just too familiar.

He scrambled to his feet and rushed over despite the thick fog of smoke that he had to push through to get to the other. He barrelled his body against the other's, his hands grabbing around his torso, even as he clawed and flailed at the stone wall with the large opening in front of him, the one that showed him a whole world he couldn't reach, and that didn't even include his own. Impulse attempted to pull him back from the edge, but the other only redirected his attention to pushing the cow hybrid away, his tail swinging wildly into his arm and leaving a fresh burn on it. Impulse only winced at the feeling.

“There’s no way to get out! You have to calm down!” Impulse tried to direct, but he knew the other didn’t understand what he said.

The other’s attempts at pushing against his arms grew weaker and weaker as he lowered his flaming tail back down to the ground, the blanket forgotten on the forge’s floors as hot, wax tears formed in the corners of his eyes and rolled down his cheeks, leaving streaks of red down his almost-human face.

Impulse leaned his cheek against his back, his look sad and sorrowful as the other cried.

“I don’t know what happened to you... But if it’s anything like what happened to me.. I get it.” The gentle tone of his voice carried in soothing waves through the other's ears, even as the burning wax that fell from his eyes and the tips of his ears landed on the tops of Impulse’s arms and burned away at the hair and skin.

The other breathed out harshly, over and over, the fire around his mouth dying out as the rest of his flames flickered down to sizes so small that they barely burned at all. He let the other pull him off the wall and sit him on the floor, his body limp and malleable in his grip.

The blanket was wrapped back around him before he knew it, and with the color-changing sky, the world around him slowly grew warmer and warmer.

The other kneeled in front of him, talking to him with his hand on his shoulder even as he avoided his eyes. “Listen, we can’t get out right now... I know.. Your home isn’t here. Mine isn’t either. We can find you a way back to your home... You just have to give it time.”

The other closed his eyes to the sound of his voice, one of the only pleasant things in this world.

“Let’s just try to get along for now... Let’s just try it. Afterall, it takes two to Tango.” He said, and then he stood up, leaving the other there on the floor as he began his work for the day.

And every other day after that, day after day after day, Impulse would create weapons, tools for farming, keys to houses, and the other would stay next to the fire and watch, though to both of their surprises, one day he started lighting each and every fire, consistently keeping them at the correct temperature for each thing Impulse made.

And as they worked together, the months began to pass them by in a repetitive blur.

Neither of them recalled when exactly it happened, but over time the other began to speak, first quietly and shortly, until eventually they were having full blown conversations with each other everyday about this and that, about things the burning one didn’t understand, about Impulse’s work, or about Impulse in general. And Impulse would always reply in earnest to “Tango”, whose name had suddenly stuck one day and never changed again, as if that last serious one-sided conversation they'd had was stuck in their heads ever since.

Whenever Impulse would try to ask about Tango, he always refused to talk about himself, and even his home, whatever that place entailed, and wherever it was. Sometimes even he seemed like he didn’t know where it was anymore, and whenever Impulse would inquire about it, Tango would suddenly stop speaking, as if he hated the taste of the words that would come to his mouth if he spoke.

One night, when the darkness had fallen and the coldness in the air arrived with it, and Impulse had finally finished his day’s work, he told Tango that he would be visiting his “home” for the night, and that he would return to the forge in the morning. Tango had given him this solemn look; he had hated hearing that word ever since he first found out what it meant. He responded to him with a freezing tone that one as hot as him shouldn’t have been able to have. “Go, then.”

And when the other left, he didn’t even spare another glance to his fading silhouette.

’How nice that you get to go home. His thoughts began to muddle and change into something aggravated as they poured into his head. Wax dripped down from his forehead and ran down the tip of his nose and over his eyes and onto his cheeks.

'How nice that you get to just walk out of here whenever you want... That you aren’t stuck here forever, chained to this damn wall in the back of this barren, cold..-’

“HORRIBLE PRISON!!!” His thoughts came falling from his mouth as his feet carried him to the back room where his chain was attached to the wall.

He looked around wildly, his eyes filling with the same crazed look that he hadn’t carried since Impulse pulled him off that wall many months ago. He picked up a heavy steel hammer from where it rested against the wall, the kind his own arms had always struggled to lift, but Impulse had always used easily. But its main use was to change the shape of hot metals, and Tango could be the exact cause and effect he needed to get out of this place.

In his sudden fury, his tail blazed with a purple flame and he used it to his advantange as he placed the end under where the chain connected to the wall, the metal immediately turning red and then orange under the sheer temperature, the culmination of all his pain. And then, he lifted the hammer with his shaking, thin arms, and slammed it down. Over and over and over. His voice coming out in a furious yell that echoed through the village, down every path, through every alley, into every window.

And when the chain finally gave way with a gruesome snap and the molten metal was splattered like blood on the floor in a sickly red-orange mix that burned the stone floors, he heard the sound of feet that came running in from the front of the forge, and the sound of Impulse’s breathless words leaving his throat.

“What…what are you doing?!” And when he saw the snapped chain he grimaced.

The other turned back to him, his teeth bared like he had never learned anything at all. “I’m leaving!” He had put all his energy into running quickly, attempting to bolt past Impulse when the other forced his body into his, the collision stopping him from exiting through the only door.

“Let me go, let me gO, LET ME GO!” His words backed by strength and resolve devolved back into desperation as he pushed his hands against Impulse’s torso, but he didn’t budge.

“You can’t go! It’s for your own good...!” Impulse said with a sorrowful look that Tango had never seen before. He had never shown any feeling but complacency the entire time Tango had known him, except for that one single time, when Tango first saw the colors of a morning sky.

“I don’t want to bE HERE! I DON’T WANT TO BE HERE!”

Impulse’s face contorted into momentary anger. “I DON’T WANT TO BE HERE EITHER!” He yelled, the sudden tone of his voice sending a cold shiver down Tango’s spine, the voices of his captors coming back to him in a flash of memories.

“I’m here because I have to be! And you have to be too!”

Impulse tried not to stumble at the phantom pain that burned into his thigh as he said it, the remaining mark hidden from all view, but his hands still grasped it, attempting to cover it weakly.

“Why, why, why...?” Tango’s hands clawed at his own face, his distress causing his throat to fill with smoke.

“Do you know what will happen if you leave..?!" Impulse said, his voice filled with a harshness that he had tried to snuff out years ago. "If you leave they’ll find you and capture you again! And if they don’t do that, they’ll kill you!”

Kill...? Tango had never heard that word before.

“I don’t... understand..” His voice came out as a whimper as it wobbled, the smoke pouring out from the corners of his mouth.

“If they kill you, you won’t be here in the forge, sure, but you’ll never be able to go home either. It snuffs out all chances of that... like stomping out a fire.”

“No... no...”

“Without someone to protect you, or a direct way home, you won't last very long, even with your impressive powers.”

“Then what should I..” Tango collapsed to his knees, his eyes filling with those same tears from the last and only other time that Impulse had ever raised his voice. “What should I do...?”

“All we can do is wait-” Impulse had begun to say, but then his eyes caught on a silhouette that had made its way into his peripherals, his head turning just to catch the sound of two voices chatting out of view.

“Just.. stay here.” He said, as he walked back to the front of the forge, leaving Tango alone...

...and sobbing on the cold floor behind him.

“Can I help you..-” He had begun to ask as he approached the front of the forge, only to see that upon first glance, there no one was there, until he looked down over the stone wall.

There were two young kids standing in front of the building, and they stared up at him with their big, wide eyes.

He tilted his head to the side slightly in his confusion. “Can I do something for you..?” He offered, and the others only looked between each other.

Then the one with little red wings opened his mouth cheerfully. “You look so strong!”

Suddenly, Tango approached slowly from the back, stopping quite far behind Impulse so that he wouldn’t try to hold him back again. He held his arm; his eyes had been glued to the floor, but still he glanced up to see what was happening.

The boy in the red sweater got up on his tippy toes, spotting Tango behind Impulse. “And that one’s made of fire! So cool! Do you want to come with us?”

The two in the forge looked between each other. Impulse spoke. “Go where..?”

The boy replied quickly. “You guys said you didn’t want to be here anymore, right? You can come with us! With people as strong as you, we could go anywhere and do anything!”

Impulse looked away with quiet uncertainty. “That does sound nice but...”

It would never work.

“Don’t you want to explore far away places? Find new things? Travel through the woods and the fields and the rivers?” The boy was basically bouncing in place with how much excitement he spoke with.

Tango, however, only cringed at the word ‘rivers’, knowing they were made of the water stuff that Impulse always told him to avoid. But he also remembered home, where it was, and even more so, where it wasn’t. And it wasn’t where he was now. If he ever wanted to find that black stone and its purple void, the one that would lead him home, he would have to leave no matter what Impulse said. He lifted his head high.

“I want to go.”

Impulse looked back at him, an incredulous look on his face. “You what?Didn't you listen to a thing I said?!"

The one boy cheered in front of them, the other smiling shyly by his side.

“Isn’t this great, Jimmy? We made another friend to go exploring with!”

The other boy nodded along, their hands interlocked. “Yeah... It's great, Grian...”

Impulse looked between them all, the fire elemental that he had been trying to protect all this time, and the two young, reckless boys that he was about to attempt to walk off with. He knew that none of them would be able to defend themselves for long. And he knew that he was strong enough to stop Tango from exiting the forge if he wanted to.

But that wasn't right, was it? Holding someone in a place they didn't want to be against their will... That sounded like...

Impulse could feel the sickly sensation of nausea catch in his throat. Still he barked his words through it.

“If you all leave together then who's going to protect you?!”

His heart was beating wildly in his chest, his thoughts becoming anxious as they filled with unending possibilities that could happen on their journeys that would no doubt end in their demises.

The boy in the red jumper only blinked up at him. “Why don’t you do it?”

“Wha-..” Impulse's hands clenched at his side as all three pairs of eyes looked at him expectantly.

"You've been doing it for him already, haven't you?" The boy in red said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Impulse's brain stuttered to a halt for a long moment. The visions of his own unending pains were already blurring his rationality, and then he remembered all of the looks Tango had given him in his own agony, the images flashing through his head like the thrums of a migraine, and he could feel himself let out a long sigh that Tango thought would never end as he held this world's suffocating air in his lungs. And then, suddenly, as if someone else took control of his body, Impulse walked off into the back room, only reemerging when he had a brand new shiny sword in his hand that he spun with natural prowess, like he used it everyday. And then he slammed something down on the counter before his feet took him down the forge steps and out onto the grass.

“Come on then, kids.” He said, his tone suddenly warmer than before, like he had taken some of the forge's fires with him when he'd walked out.

The kids cheered, the one in red spinning the other as if they were dancing before they ran off ahead along the path.

Tango watched them leave with sad eyes.

“Aren’t you coming?” Impulse asked, his expression serious as their eyes met again.

“What..? But you said...”

Impulse only shook his head. “I guess if those kids can do it... then so can we. Let’s find a way back home. I can protect you guys until then.” He said, his face resolved as he adjusted his grip on the sword.

Tango had to stop himself from cheering like the children, his eyes lit up with excitement like a blazing fire that Impulse had never seen before, like he was finally actually alive.

And as they ran to catch up with the kids who were now looking up and pointing to the stars as they stood together at the top of the hill ahead of them, the forge's fires completely went out, and the blanket was left alone and forgotten on the forever cold, stone floors...

...and a set of keys stayed sitting on the counter, for many, many days...

And then...

...the dream faded away from their minds.

And despite the long, difficult dreams that stayed with each of them that night, there was still one who was free from his pain, his memories, his home... because he never had any of those things.

And Scar never dreamed at all.