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It was Boatem meeting day, another elaborate meeting thought up by Grian that would result in even more Scar death. It was fun, each respawn punctuated with laughs and jokes. The respawns never resulted in any lasting injuries or even much blood since they all tended to die and let it dissolve into nothingness, nothing for Scar to get worked up over at least.
This one was different however, healing potions didn't get rid of blood stains, so any damage taken, that wasn't fatal, the evidence was left behind. Scar could get worked up over this. Although the coppery smell was overpowered by the sickly sweet healing potions and the colour of the two liquids were eerily similar, Scar could still smell it. He could taste the blood in the air, he could feel it on his hands and suit, soaking into his skin.
Red seemed to fall into every minute crack in his hands, cooling as he gestured wildly asking for the meeting to stop. He was laughing and maybe that's why they didn't take the order seriously, but the laughter wasn’t truly coming from Scar.
The meeting continued without Scar’s input, they violently discussed how each business planned to thrive while trying to punch each other into the Boatem hole. Fists landing with painful crunches whilst the sounds of glass bottles breaking numbed and reversed any negative effect.
The idea was pretty sick, first to be pushed into the Boatem hole had to do the menial labour of the company, so everyone was fighting with rigour. It was jokes, each member laughing it off, throwing faux insults and making fun if someone tripped. But it was their lives, their bodies. They were bleeding over this.
Scar couldn't handle it anymore, giggles that were not his own ruptured his throat at the same time teeth started growing there. Hurried, Scar left the meeting, not a word shared to describe his absence.
The transformation into his purer vex form was horribly uncomfortable and paired with how he hadn't done it since the Convex, it wasn't destined to be a pleasant experience.
He couldn't breathe, his oesophagus filled with tens if not hundreds of teeth, sprouting and growing, making him bleed into his lungs, it was as if his own hybridity was waterboarding him. His blood poured sadly out of his mouth as his chest continued to convulse, unable to get enough air in his lungs to even cough.
Eventually, coughs did manage to tear their way out of his throat, teeth following suit, his own blood oozing down to stain his shirt collar, the feeling had sent him to the ground in relief. He didn't make it back to the Swaggon, he was but metres away from where his friends were.
Scar’s jaw fell open, stuttered apologies falling out, the bone pulling at his skin to reach his chest, dislocating and ripping the protesting flesh that was stretched from his cheekbones to the bottom of his neck. The sharp teeth that had forced their way out of his throat now growing, setting into place as snickers filled the air.
His eyes were lifted from their scared position to one of ensured glee, face melding to create a mockery of happiness. He no longer looked like Scar, instead, rows and rows of pointed teeth layered his neck, his expressions exaggerated and inhuman and the sounds he was making were loud titters as if he were laughing at the pain.
One his teeth had finished violating his face, his back flared. Shoulders creaking and popping to make way for the small wings he was granted in his pure form. Large bumps formed under his skin as excess ribs unwrapped his useless lungs to make the spines that formed his wings.
It felt as if lightning had struck his back as they broke through the skin, the violence sending blood careening over his back as well as lumps of grey flesh and yellow fat. The bones reached out towards the sky, spreading out before falling limply. Too lifeless, exhausted.
Eventually, his body curled up, lack of oxygen turning him that sickly shade of bluey-grey. Bones crunched as they pulled in tighter, shrinking his form to that of a vex. He would scream if his voice wasn’t already occupied with a sadistic laugh mocking his every thought and feeling.
By the time he was half his original size, small enough for his jaw to find itself back in its place, the transformation was almost complete. His new mouth, larger than his own head, snapped shut. Teeth unevenly stuck between his lips, lips that were now pulled up into a crooked smile.
His shirt hung loosely around his shoulders, long enough to cover his body down to his ankles; the rest of his clothes were abandoned due to his slighter frame. Slowly, giving the world time to get upright again, he stood. From there he tried moving the ex-ribs that allowed him to fly.
At one point the membrane had formed between the fan-like spires, with a few test movements and a painful sounding stretch, the wings could be fluttered at a rhythm solid enough to hover off the ground. It hurt, but he was up.
Ignoring the groans of protest from his newly formed joints, he scurried to his base pulling out his old vex wear from season 6. The clothes fit perfectly, his body bobbing up and down as he snickered over his appearance.
Floating down and out of his base, he figured he should return his items to his home so as to not lose them to greedy hermits. Said greedy hermits were already surrounding his items, confused as to why his coat was still there, or why there was so much visceral matter coating the grass. Scar had not been that hurt right?
Looking at their confusion and hearing their worry made the vex laugh louder, high pitched giggles echoed throughout boatem, if not, the entire hermitcraft server. The sound was immediately recognisable, a vex laugh, one that was very very entertained.
The rest of the boatem members had already cleaned themselves up, fresh clothes and damp hair, but now they look up to meet the bloody visage of an out of control Scar. One that they dreaded to see again, Grian had met the business end of those teeth before, they had scarred despite respawn.
His shoulder ached with the memory of it being torn off; of a mouth the size of scar himself, descending and ripping at his shoulder. Even the bones were severed as if they were as soft as the flesh around them. He didn't want to go through that again.
Pearl had never seen this before, barely even recognising that the mob before them was even Scar, she wouldn’t have known if it weren't for Mumbo shouting to ask if he was okay. The check in was met with a harder laugh, although not as loud it was still powerful enough to make everyone recoil.
Scar was absolutely reeling from bloodlust right now and there were 4 very healthy people just Stood in front of him, waiting to be torn apart. Limb from undying limb. They would just respawn and he could rip them to pieces over and over again, building up enough blood to even bathe himself.
But he couldn't, those were his friends, not meat bags with plenty of blood sloshing in them, blood that would probably taste really good. No. He wouldn’t hurt his friends. Forcing his wings to give up their rhythm, he fell to the ground, a small flutter to stop him from splattering the grass, his disgusting deep red.
He hovered, like a typical vex, at their height. His face pulled into that uncanny smile, lips peeled back to bear his mismatched teeth, gaps between them showing the layers of other teeth already coated in Scars own blood. Small snickers carried their way through.
Scars brain was a haze of instinct fueled horror. He couldn't understand what the others were saying over his own incessant chanting for blood. It was something about how he was ‘safe’ and how he needed to go ‘calm down’ or that ‘Cub will be here soon’.
The voices just made the chants louder, wanting to gnaw on the bones of his loved ones, keep one as a souvenir like how he almost kept Grians shoulder joint. The bone was a perfect shape for a cane if he had the chance to sand it down. The ball end acting as a handle, the other end would have been fitted with a golden cap. Enough weight to guide the cane, the bird’s bone was hollow after all.
But Doc had chased him down, forced him to give the bone back so that Grian could respawn intact. It was boring. But right now Doc wasn’t here, the four in front of him were too weak to fight off him in his vex form. Grian could get away maybe Pearl too, Mumbo was a robot so all that left was Impulse.
The man had never dealt with Scar like this before, so a false sense of security could still be gained. A small spin and a cute chatter, Scar went up to Impulse. The man stumbled back, Grian reaching out a sword between the two. Grian reached his hand too close to Scar, too tempting of an offer.
Within a split-second, Scar had slammed his jaw open, air hitting the hundreds of teeth that layered his neck and mouth, then closed it promptly around Grians wrist. Blood seeped out between the 15 or so puncture wounds and screams poured out of Grian.
As soon as Grians pained screeches (and his foot slamming against Scars face) actually processed in Scars brain he let go. Mouth hanging open as the other Boatem members fawned over the injury. Guilt immediately overtook Scars brain, his body was cackling but he was sobbing.
His forced happiness made the tears look like the product of laughing too hard, his laughter was strong enough to portray the emotion that was too big for Scar to handle right now. Mumbo noticed how Scars' laughter was increasing and with tears in his own eyes waved for his departure.
Scar left, uncontrollable laughter portraying the complete opposite of how he actually felt, his bed welcomed him more than the Boatem crew would over the next few days. He resigned himself to sleep, letting the changes to revert back to his normal self hurt, he hoped it hurt more than Grian.
Cub had shown up at one point, explaining the instincts of the Vex to the rest of the Boatem crew, checking in on the recovery of Grian. He had checked in on Scar, but it was mainly to make sure the doors were actually locking him in rather than his well-being. He was alone to suffer this, and he deserved it.
He didn't know when the laughter did break into sobbing, it shook his body all the same.