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Grian sat in the small stone room that he had dug out for himself. Down here it was cold, colder than the desert above at night. Grian had seen some smaller animals out and about at night and digging themselves a hole not unlike his own as dawn broke and the sun rose.
Down here in this absolutely frigid hole Grian began to understand why they did that.
Above this hole where Grian sat was a bunker, soon to be abandoned when the time came, which would likely be soon. And just a bit above that bunker were presumably, enemies based on the extremely muffled shouting Grian could hear. Below the surface was a crater that Grian had designed, not unlike this hole in the ground.
Grian stared at the bag he had packed last night from his seat on the bed that he had used maybe once or twice if he was generous, wrapping his wings around himself in a weak effort to keep warm. This wasn’t a home, it was never meant to be. Part of Grian shouted at him to grab the bag, a weapon from a body, and run. Run into the forest for as long as his legs would carry him and start anew. He had made sure he’d have enough to do so and the band on his wrist now gleamed a soft yellow. A warning to slow down.
His deal was done technically. Grian helped Scar and did as he said and now he finally lost his first life. He could leave and Scar could say nothing. That was the deal after all.
If you had asked him at the beginning of his deal if Grian would leave as soon as he could he would’ve said yes with no thought or hesitation.
But now as he sat and stared at the bag that just begged for him to grab it and run Grian wasn’t so sure.
As much as Grian hates to admit it he thinks if you asked him now, at this very moment if he’d leave now that he can? He’d say no.
So with this revelation and no time to think further on his feeling about this situation or Scar in general Grian decides to grab whatever he needs off the battlefield. No rules about stealing enemy armor in war after all. Especially not on home turf.
As Grian begins to run out of the tunnel and back into action in the back of his mind he can’t help but wonder how long he was down there, if people think he did just drop Scar and start a new life with his last two chances, and mostly if Scar thinks Grian ditched him after everything.
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Later on, after the majority of the war, as the moon hangs in the sky three players stand and stare each other down. Bdubs with his new clock, Scar with two allies, and Grian. With two lives.
Grian is unsure why but with a full inventory and some semblance of confidence that Scar would never hurt him he doesn’t run like he would or should to get the stupid piece of paper that will keep Scar from killing him.
In the end, Bdubs gets the “no-kill pass” and as Grian stares heartbroken at Scar, whose face he can’t read at this moment, he turns to run away and before he can get far enough Grian feels a sword stab right through him, making his wings shoot out to either side of him to make himself seem bigger before the sword is yanked out and the only mercy Grian is given in those moments is that he is dead before he hits the ground.
Grian sat in the small stone room that he had dug out for himself. Down here it was cold, colder than the desert above at night. Grian had seen some smaller animals out and about at night and digging themselves a hole not unlike his own as dawn broke and the sun rose.
But in the dead of night, Grian gripping the sheets of the bed he had barely used so hard his knuckles turn white he seethes with rage, feeling his clipped wings puff with the anger inside of him. It’s cold down here but the freshly lit bonfire of anger inside his chest keeps him warmer than any fire, home, bed, or person ever could.
Scar had betrayed him.
After everything Grian did for that man he still turned around and paid no mind, standing idly by as Bdubs stuck a sword in his back.
Grian should’ve left, shouldn’t have brought that creeper over, should’ve known that working with people only gets you hurt.
Grian ignores the tears of rage as they slide down his face and violently grab the bag he had packed mere days ago, pulling the iron from it the same way a sword had been pulled from his back mere seconds ago.
With his freshly made iron armor and sword, Grian sets his sights on his new mission.
Killing Scar.
When Grian finds Scar and his new buddy something inside his chest hurts, aches even. The way Scar and Bdubs talk sounds normal, like the three of them won’t have to fight to the death. Deep down Grian knows he wants that back, wants back the moments in sandland on monopoly mountain when Grian and Scar sat next to each other, maybe even a little too close and just. Talked.
Grian misses it.
Grian misses Scar.
But with the thought of his name and the flipbook in his mind of what Scar had just let happen to him the fire in Grian’s chest roars once again. Nearly doubling in size it feels like Grian gets Bdubs out of the way in an act of vengeance, another for his kill count, and slashes at Scar, wading over to him in this pond that Grian is determined to make his final resting place with the fire in his chest, showing in his eyes and matching the harsh red glow of his wristband.
But what will Grian do when Scar does the unexpected?
What will Grian do when Scar takes a knee and bows his head, giving Grian the green light?
The ache in his chest from just a few moments ago rises once more and the sword Grian was holding above his head falls to his side as he realizes he couldn’t hurt Scar. Not now. Not on purpose.
Grian does the unthinkable and falls to his knees and hugs Scar who both unsurprisingly and surprisingly hugs Grian back.
The two hold each other close in the water, mumbling apologies to each other with soft laughter that masks tears.
But in the back of Grian’s mind a voice similar to the one telling him to run earlier yells. And loudly. He knows Scar hears it cause they both flinch and hold each other tighter as the ghosts of their friends and enemies demand blood, for only one to be left, for no one to be left.
Scar is the first to stand as he takes Grian’s hand and leads them both back home to duel at Pizza’s grave, an important spot to both of them. The llama always meant more to Scar but that didn’t mean Grian didn’t care for it while it was around.
Now the two friends who could’ve been more but never had the time stand facing each other, surrounded by cacti next to the grave of a lost llama and their home that Grian had rigged to explode.
Grian prepares himself as best he can for what’s to happen next but it’s hard to prepare for striking your best friend in the jaw with a power that wasn’t appropriate for this situation. Nor was there any way to prepare for him hitting you with a sorrowful expression.
More punches were thrown and something low in Grian’s chest that he knew was not him grinned with satisfaction.
Soon Grian ended it with one last punch to Scar’s temple, killing him. Grian fell to his knees, holding Scar in his arms as a sob escaped him and he desperately tried to hide himself as Grian covered him and Scar’s still warm body with a couple of cactus needles in it with his wings as the ghost of friends lost cheered and even thought Scar and Grian had agreed this was a win for both of them it didn’t feel like it. This wasn’t what winning was supposed to feel like.
This wasn’t winning.
Grian gently set Scar down and walked closer to Pizza’s gravestone, giving it one last pat before he stared out at the border, knees wobbling as he threw himself off of the ledge from his two lost friends.
Grian’s wings were clipped but finally, he got to fly again. He missed it so much.
Maybe in another life, he and Scar would get to fly together.