Chapter Text
Xelqua has a lot of questions, but it feels too exhausting to try and get any answers. They think they want to ask about Pearl, but they don’t know what exactly to ask. Where could they even start? All they know is her favorite color, and it’s not a good starting point. They want to put context to their memories of her, but they doubt anyone but Pearl herself can do that for them. And she is not here.
But they could still ask Mumbo—something. They want to find out more about him, and there is one question that burns in their mind.
Mumbo is doing dishes, Xelqua is sitting on the floor. Breakfast was an egg and a piece of toast each, except Xelqua stole Mumbo’s piece of toast, so they had two.
Xelqua picks up the tablet. They write:
what color are your eyes?
Mumbo pauses, wipes his wet hands on a towel and writes:
Brown
They thought so! Xelqua feels a bit proud. They had known without even having to remember.
They write:
what about mine?
Mumbo comes over and sits next to them. He writes:
I haven’t looked at your eyes
Oh, right. They had only made eye contact once, and Mumbo had been far away, behind a window. Xelqua shivers, pulling their wings in, clasping their hands.
They look at what Mumbo wrote, and their heart starts to race, because a part of them wants to look at his eyes now. They blink and quickly cover their eyes with one hand. It isn’t possible—but they want to.
When they feel brave enough to look again, Mumbo has written:
You can look at yourself on the camera
Xelqua’s heartbeat eases, and they can relax their wings, but—it stings a little.
After all, any other Player would have done it. Any real Player, like what Xelqua used to be, could make eye contact with their best friend. And yet Xelqua cannot do it.
And it stings, it hurts.
But they have to refocus now, because Mumbo is turning on the camera. He holds the screen up to them.
Xelqua is terrified, suddenly, so they look down at the ground. In the corner of their eye they can see a shape which must be themself in the camera, but their heart is pounding too fast—they are too afraid of it. They look away until their curiosity overwhelms their fear, then they slowly let their eyes drift upward, focusing on Mumbo’s knobby knees, on his calloused hands holding the screen, and finally—
They have dark brown eyes. Like earthworms in the ground after rain.
They have light brown hair, like sandstone. It falls in thin, wilting curls. They reach up and touch it, and watch their hand move. Their own hand, their own hair.
There is one perfect scar that winds from temple to temple across their face. Perfect, because it was sealed shut with magic, rather than stitches. It was created when They broke the barrier between mind and body. It was created so Xelqua could See, Hear, and Speak.
These things happened after they were created. It is no difficulty to remember them, if they choose.
They run their hand across it, they feel no stirring of magic. Good, it is dead and gone. It was a parasite, they didn’t want it. The Watchers killed it, burned it out from their body—like a sickness---doing so was the one kind thing They ever did for them.
Now they are a creature of the body again, not of magic, and Xelqua does not mind the scar being there. It reminds them that they are truly a Player, despite the times when they feel like something else.
They let their hair fall back over it. They will not think about it again.
Xelqua hands the tablet back to Mumbo. They think that will be the end of it, and Mumbo will go back to doing dishes. But he stays, and he writes:
One sec
He starts doing something on the tablet, holding it in front of his face. Then he hands it to them, and they look.
Mumbo has taken a photo of himself. And though he is facing the camera, the eye contact doesn’t make them want to cry and cover their eyes. They look at him.
He’s sporting a stupid cheesy grin. And his ears are big, and his mustache is dumb. And his eyes sparkle with the light of his smile. And he is so, so familiar. They think about carrot soup. They think about memories that burn in their mind. They think about their best friend.
They don’t know the sound of his voice. They do not remember the times they were with him in the past, but they are certain there was never a time without him. Not a time when they didn’t know him, when they didn’t love him.
They always felt their heart ache when they were near him, even when they didn’t know why.
They write:
handsome fellow
They wait for him to read it, and when he does, they see his shoulders start to shake. Oh no, is he crying? Have they made him sad again?
But when they dare to look up, they see he is laughing. They look down again quickly, They do not catch his eye. But they are happy. They think they had spent years making him laugh in the past. They are happy to be doing it again.
Then Mumbo goes back to the dishes, and Xelqua is left with the tablet on the floor. They do not look at the photos again. Their mind is empty of almost all memories save for ones they do not want—but they think they can remember these. They think they can remember Mumbo's smile. This time, they will not allow it to be forgotten.