Chapter Text
As the crops turned golden and the sun beat down on the people from above warmer than usual, Lomedy drove his hoe into the ground and wiped the sweat gathering on his brow. There were more people volunteering to work on the farm, those wishing to settle nearby and seeking his help. The fields had expanded, and nearby structures had multiplied. Regardless of the rising racism on the server, Lomedy wasn't particularly concerned with who wanted to come; he was, however, deeply concerned with who did not want to come.
Leaving the general oversight of operations to his new companions, he headed toward the familiar base. He wasn't sure what he would encounter; Flame might be there, or just his new traveling companion Skrilley—perhaps even Spongs. What he certainly didn't expect was Wemmbu.
"Wemmbu? Are you looking for Flame?" Even though Lomedy had never spoken to Wemmbu personally, he knew that this tension was uncharacteristic for the purple winged moth hybrid. He had heard a great deal about him from Flame.
"Hello, Lomedy; actually, I was looking for you, too." He shifted on his feet as the weight of what he had to say pressed upon his tongue. The farmer looked so startled that the sound of approaching footsteps echoed from behind.
"Lomedy! Fall back!" Skrilley rushed in front of Lomedy, yet there wasn't a shred of confidence in either his stance or the way he held his weapon. Moving out of sheer necessity, he stepped in front and pointed his sword defensively at Wemmbu, though the Arachnid's new commander didn't seem to care much. Wemmbu remained tense, yet he cast a look of exasperation at the ferret-hybrid.
"I didn't come here to fight dude. I just needed to bring something to the person it belongs to." Lomedy narrowed his eyes suspiciously. He already knew that Flame trusted Wembu implicitly, but he also knew that Flame would rather die than entrust him with something personally sensitive.
Wemmbu held out a crumpled piece of paper to him.
Reading the paper took about ten minutes, but they were among the hardest ten minutes Lomedy had ever endured. His vision was already poor, and as tears began to well up, the bottom of the page all but vanished from sight. He had to pull the paper away to keep his tears from smudging the ink.
After carefully folding the paper and putting it away, he turned back to Wemmbu, tears still streaming down his face.
"I, um, didn't read the paper. I found this in an empty house in the taiga and took them along, thinking Egg might want to read. But from what I gather, they were written for you. If he could have come, he would have wanted to bring them himself, and he asked me to convey his apologies." Lomedy shuddered even more involuntarily. Even though the words Wemmbu relayed came from Egg, hearing them like this felt far from comforting. Skrilley’s extension of a tentacle helped him regain his composure, at least a little.
He could still feel the creases of the letter's paper between his fingers; the familiar handwriting and words were right before his eyes. Flame's distinctive musk and the bitter scent of the flowers he had recently been examining with such curiosity had permeated the paper.
"Can I ask a favor of you?" Even though his voice sounded even more broken than he had intended, Wemmbu waited with interest for him to continue.
"Can you take me to the place where you found this?" Wemmbu calmly agreed, seeing it as the only thing he could do to console the sorrowful farmer standing before him.
•◆★◆★◆★◆★◆★◆★◆•
As the setting sun made the gems in the tiara flash sharply, the trio descended calmly onto the soft snow. Not much seemed to have changed since Wemmbu was last here; everything was the same, save for the light dusting of snow covering their previous footprints.
After his trembling eyes rapidly scanned the house's rough exterior, Lomedy spotted a detail and began to run. His feet, accustomed to solid ground, kept stumbling in the snow, yet he seemed to have no intention of stopping. As he ran toward the eastern side of the house, Skrilley quickly followed him. Wemmbu, meanwhile, briefly considered following them but changed his mind and went inside the house instead.
Weapons and armor still lay there unclaimed; dust had settled on them over the past few days. The chests remained in the same disarray, and the house held the same air of desolation. He moved cautiously toward the bed, and that was when the smell hit Wemmbu's nostrils.
A musk unique to Flame and an unfamiliar, acrid scent.
He had indeed slept in the sheets and on the pillow; this was not a place where stolen goods were stockpiled.
He glanced once more at the suspended weapons. The sword gleamed with the magic of ancient words whispered into it, and the inscription "The Flame" upon its hilt left no room for doubt. It was unmistakably his rival's sword.
Wemmbu made a sudden decision and picked up the sword from where it had been left. He could certainly figure out what to do with it later.
He went outside to see what Lomedy and Syrilley were looking for. They were standing among the waist-high flowers on the east side of the house. The flowers did not smell the way they had when Wemmbu first saw them.
Both of them were looking down at the roots of the flowers. From where Wemmbu stood, the object itself was hidden by a mound of snow, but the look of horror on their faces was unmistakable.
"I told him... I told him to stay away from these flowers..." Lomedy's tearful whispers tugged at Wemmbu's heartstrings. Even though he had no idea what had happened, he stepped forward to offer comfort, but Skrilley didn't seem to share his sentiment.
"Don't come any closer, you don't deserve to approach here." The words ferret spoke in anger, his body trembling, took Wemmbu by surprise for a moment. What was so special about those purple flowers?
Before either of them could utter a single word, their attention shifted to Lomedy. The owl-hybrid’s dark skin was flushed deep red, and he was trembling violently. First, he tried to wipe his face; then, with trembling hands, he struggled to retrieve a piece of paper he had tucked into his pocket. He slowly approached Wemmbu and pressed the paper against his armored chest.
"You'll understand when you read these. I... I need to gather the things from the house."
Before Wemmbu could even grasp what was happening, he was left alone beside the foxglove in the darkening air, a piece of paper in his hand. Considering the letter's impact on Lomedy and Egg, he sat with his back against the wall and lit a torch.
Dear Lomedy;
I never thought I would have to write this. You don't know it yet, but there is a meaning behind my nickname, the Immortal Demon. If Nether demons discover their life's purpose and master it by the time they reach the age of forty, believing in it with all their hearts, their destinies and lives are placed entirely in their own hands, and their souls are spared from the pursuit of death.
A process I can never carry out again.
Do you remember the flowers I showed you, the foxgloves? You told me to stay away from them, but how could I? They grew from within me, Lomedy. They were a part of me.
You know I have no interest in flowers or the soil, but Godness, those were the most beautiful flowers I had ever seen. They sat in the palm of my hand, speaking with brutal honesty about what they were doing to me, and they were so beautiful that, deep down, I didn't even want to be free of them. Nor could I have been, anyway.
Learning the origins, varieties, and poisons of the flowers was the difficult part of the job.
Hanahaki.
Even though it might seem like a truly absurd cause of death, especially for someone like me, it really feels like an irony of fate. But I am sure you will understand, too. Hanahaki was perhaps the only thing that could kill me.
I’m sure it won’t be hard for you to guess who the flowers belong to, my friend. Purple, toxic, elegant, impossible, and the only person who could kill me.
I don't want him to find out, Lomedy, but I know that just as I didn't believe the news of his death and searched for him to the very end, he will search for me too. Perhaps he will find out much sooner.
I have regrets and things I want to do, but at least thanks to this flower's poison, I learned more about him. I am content with my situation.
I wanted to thank you for everything one last time. For being my friend.
And I apologize. For letting down everyone who believed in me.