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You don’t remember much, of whatever was before. Because what is there? You don’t know your gender, sexuality or race, family or friends. What you do remember, what little of a memory you contain, is of your first meeting.
He’s covered in blood, you find that is not uncommon. He looks crazed, wild and manic with his long red cloak and tusks protruding from his mouth. His eyes strike fear into your soul, because you know there is very little time and that his heavy breathing is ringing louder in your ears.
You are also covered in blood. The difference between him and you is that yours is your own, and you do not know the names of the blood he has collected on his being.
He pierced your already tethered form, you were going to bleed out anyway but you’d rather not consider his action mercy, and you remember pain . You remember the world spinning, dancing in a way that was so much less than graceful but beauty is judged by how limited a time it has left and in that moment of pain and unrest the world is stunning . You might be crying but you cannot feel. You might be screaming but you cannot hear. You can taste your blood on your tongue but that sense does not feel like a mercy.
For a moment you focus on the pain. On the taste of the blood, holding onto it for reasons you either don’t know or don’t exist. Because for some reason you fight, and then you slip.
It doesn’t matter when you wake up. Not really. Because before you were there, and now you are here, and if there was an inbetween you would not care, would not bring yourself to.
It’s wonderful, probably, because you are a collective. You are an individual, and you are a unity. You don’t lose yourself in the whole, and there is satisfaction in that sentiment. Because he could kill the rest of you but your personality remains.
You are an individual, among many. It’s comforting to be part of them. It’s exhilarating to be part of them. It’s retribution, you didn’t think karma existed in your life, but you watch the man whose very name terrifies you, who ended your very existence, fumble through a conversation and you laugh because karma does exist, and it is magnificent .
It’s nice to be self-contradictory. You love going against yourself in your opinions, especially when you reprimand yourself for them. You love every part of yourself and they love you back because you are none and you are one and you are complete with one another.
Before there was strife, was struggle. Before you were hunger, you were starved, not only of food but of comfort. Comfort of others, comfort of knowing what’s going to happen next. Before there was uncertainty, now there is getting collectively fixated on something stupid because you have the ability to.
You yell into the void of his head, screaming the letter ‘E’. It’s so simple, a small pleasantry in what can barely be considered a life, because it’s so annoying . He is exacerbated by the lot of you, and maybe you shouldn’t be so happy to be nothing more than a minor inconvenience for the man who put an end to your life but here you are. You revel in every little annoyance you cause, dance together as one to cause a stir, do the exact opposite to cause calamity.
There are things you get attached to, wolves and friends and moments. You get attached to the dumb piglin man who has to tape his glasses together. To the people he surrounds himself with, loud and vibrant and alive. You laugh with them even though they can’t hear, you make fun of them even though they wouldn’t be able to be abrashed. You are a voice, an encore, together you are inspirited. You act as a collective, you consider yourself one, and many. A wonderful amalgamation, a horrible abomination, simple and complex and all together.
You don’t know if there’s an after, after this. The urgency doesn’t bring itself to you and you do not ask for it to. There is a hate for the piglin in parts of you, there is resentment and resignation. There is adoration, for the creature who is both cold blooded and so warm . It’s certainly a pair, the two of you, if you can be considered one, and if both can be considered two.
You find yourself content with watching the world unfold for the piglin. Of spectating and commentating and living in the little way you are able as of currently. You smile, despite not having a body to smile with, but you know you’re smiling because you can feel it .
You get attached to people, get attached to
things
because you’re along for the ride. You all are, and you sure as
hell
are going to have fun doing it.