Chapter Text
“Knock knock!”
Scar was currently sitting outside of the curtains, speaking his knock out loud, ready to meet their new member. Sure, he mistook the boy for his cat, but he did plan on meeting him eventually.
“Hello?” A voice spoke out from within the curtains, laced with fear, timid and shaky.
Leaning on his cane, Scar opened the curtains to a scene.
One that reminded him too much of himself.
Tommy was sitting, knees to his chest and hand white knuckled around a dagger. Fear rippled through his wings, him trying (and failing) to puff them, a poor attempt at appearing bigger. He was much smaller than Scar imagined, lanky and thin, but looked just as ready for a fight.
Staying calm, he hobbled into the room, ignoring the terrified kid and opted to sit on the furthest chair from the bed.
They stayed there, in silence, Tommy clutching the stolen dagger (now he was closer, Scar recognized it from Cub’s desk), and Scar simply looking around the room. He hummed, a song long lost to his mind, and Tommy only scooted away from him.
From what Scar had heard, the kid was supposedly getting better, but everything he was seeing said otherwise. Tango and Impulse had both described a bright kid, someone who smiled and laughed, caused chaos on purpose and didn’t have any regrets about it.
The kid was still scared.
“How are you doing? I didn’t mean to scare you back there.” Scar started, and when he realized there wouldn’t be a response, he continued. “I’m glad to see you up and walking, we were worried there for a bit.”
The boy huffed, but the grip on his dagger loosened, even if just a bit. Scar stared at the scattered diamonds on the floor, carefully avoiding eye contact, even as the kid tried to gain it and challenge him. It was a fight for him, trying and failing to assert dominance over the space, all while Scar simply sat, calm.
“She’s a pretty one, isn’t she.” Scar nodded to the dagger, still ignoring the tense avian holding it. “It’s Cub’s. From what I’ve heard, the man crafted it himself, although more for the beauty of it rather than to fight with.”
The man laughed, looking off to the distance, reminiscing. “I don’t think I’ve actually seen the man use it once. I guess he’s not much of a dagger person.” The man used his natural flair to fill the space, not even acknowledging the responses (or lack there of) and simply saying what was on his mind.
That was what helped him, so many years ago. So maybe, just maybe, it would help the kid.
Tommy flipped the purple and gold knife in his hand, seemingly realizing just how nice the thing was. The blade reflected hues of violet and gold onto the walls as he rotated it, admiring. Dyed leather, seemingly brand new, almost soft under his fingertips.
Scar watched the kids face, recognizing the quiet admiration on his features. So he likes weapons, good to know.
“What is Cub?” Tommy ponders out loud, just above a whisper, never taking his eyes off of the blade.
“Say again?”
“What is Cub? Like, is he a voidwalker? Or maybe a phant hybrid?” Tommy looks up, pure curiosity in his eyes as he makes eye contact with the man across the room.
“Oh! He’s a vex hybrid. You can probably feel a bit of vex magic in there, if that’s what you’re wondering.”
Tommy squints his eyes, before responding. “You’re one, too.”
“Mhm!” The mayor responds, trying not to show the strange feeling deep within him from the words. Most people couldn’t tell. Vex, especially hybrids, were very good at hiding their traits. The vex weren’t necessarily liked , per say, and have learned to keep themselves hidden most of the time. How this kid, who had most likely never been off of his past server, knew what he was, was beyond him.
“How’d you know!”
“Your energy is all… Wobbly. I’ve never met a vex before, but my brother’s a phant. Didn’t know if it was a hybrid thing or a god thing.” Tommy shrugs, now avoiding eye contact, fiddling with the dyed leather wrapped around the handle.
“Hmm. A god you say?”
“Of music, but I know phantoms also can get weird with the whole energy thing.”
“Now you’ve got me curious. What else has ‘weird’ energy?” Scar asks, simply because he’s never seen something quite like this. What else can this kid detect? Why can this kid feel energy?
“It’s usually gods. But like, some things that have magic or aren’t from here have it too. Like the avian, his felt weird but I couldn’t place it.”
“Oh Grian? Honestly, I couldn’t tell you.” Scar lies. “He does have a history most of us don’t know much about. We kind of just ignore it to be honest.” He laughs, attempting to make the space more comfortable than awkward.
“Why? Isn’t that dangerous?”
“Not really, I mean, we all have things that haunt our pasts, and most of the time they don’t matter. We are a group of misfits, and all of us have things that we never talk about, that we don’t need to talk about. Tango used to jump anarchy servers, Cub and I used to be part of the ConVex, Etho’s got a redstone eye (or two, he mumbles). I bet we would tell you if you asked but other than that, we don’t really care.”
Tommy stays quiet, clearly deep in thought.
“How did you get the scars?” He asks, timid and shy, the fighting kid he met moments ago replaced by one curious yet terrified to ask.
“Which ones?” Scar laughs, lifting up the edge of his shirt, just enough to show the myriad of scars riddled on his stomach and up his chest. “There’s a reason my nickname’s Scar!”
“All of them?” He asks, terrified voice now laced with more curiosity than anything.
“I’ll make you a deal, For every scar I tell the story of, you can share one of yours.” Scar hums. “We can make it every two, if you want to.”
“Deal.”
And for the first time that evening, Scar watched the kid drop his guard. Laughing and explaining certain stories that made both of them laugh wildly. It didn’t matter that Tommy clearly avoided the major ones, the one on his face, between his wings, through his chest, the ones with trauma. It didn’t matter.
Because at the end of the day, the boy was comfortable, happy, and having fun.