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Grian rested his head in his arms, doing his best not to cry.
He’d been in tons of death games before. They were a lot of fun, especially when you played them with friends. He had played them both before and after Evo as the Watchers were absurdly fond of them.
Last Life and Third Life weren’t like that.
He thought of pushing Scar, the man who had told him that he could kill him and win, into the cactus. Of bloodied fists and low health. In the end, he had won.
But he knew there was only one way to end a death game.
So, he jumped.
Third Life took him the longest to recover from. Some of the Watchers were outraged at the interference of their own kind in creating a death game, including watching players that they had gotten attached to die horrible deaths at each other’s hands. Other Watchers were angry with Grian for interfering and joining the death game, saying it ‘ruined the experience’ or ‘you were only meant to Watch’. A few could care less, and just enjoyed watching the carnage, with or without him in it.
Silent footsteps approached him, and someone sat down beside him.
“You doin’ alright, there?” The person, TFC, asked, “This about that death game?”
Grian took a deep breath, rubbing at his eyes and peering up at TFC, “Have you ever…made a decision that you regret? Like, it was such a bad decision that it haunts every waking moment?”
TFC smiled underneath his great white beard, “I’ve lived for a long, long time, Grian. I’ve had plenty of time to make decisions I regret, just as I’m sure you ‘ve.”
Grian chuckled wetly, “Yeah, I’ve been around for a while. Not as long as Etho or Keralis or you, but pretty long.”
“Or X for that matter. I’m only slightly older than ‘im.”
“Our server’s filled with old people.”
TFC laughed brightly, “Old people make for the best hermits.”
“As in the server members or the people in general?”
“Both."
Grian snorted, which turned into giggling laughter. He sobered as he caught his breath, looking around Midnight Alley.
“I still feel bad,” Grian said, “About killing Scar. He told me…he told me I could just take him out of the game. The Watchers, though, and the ghosts…”
TFC sighed, “It’s a death game. They’re going to be vengeful because they died in a cruel way.”
“Cleo died in a cruel way, but she isn’t vengeful.”
“That’s debatable, my friend.”
A grin tugged at the corners of Grian’s mouth, “Fair enough. Thanks, TFC…for listening and just…being here for a minute.”
TFC nodded, “You and your sister were the biggest help when my motion sickness took me out of commission. I might be more of a…well, hermit than everyone else, but I wanted to thank you.”
“Besides,” TFC continued, “You looked like you could use someone to talk to.”
Grian smiled, a little more foxish this time, “Does that mean you’ll finally tell me what you are?”
“Not a chance.”
Grian sat outside Midnight Alley, enjoying the cool evening air.
A stick of incense stuck out of the ground beside him, sending wisps of lavender smoke into the air. Just as he had expected, Jellie came trotting up to him.
The cat had a fondness for lavender. Groan didn't know why, and Scar had smugly refused to tell him.
Grian scratched her gently behind the ears before pulling a letter out of his pocket, "Could you send this to Taurtis, please?"
Jellie sniffed at it and then nodded, carefully taking the envelope in her jowls and springing off into the night.
“That’s your third letter to Taurtis this week.”
Grian started violently, turning around to find Pearl looking down at him in concern. The moonlight seeped through her hair like leaves leaving dappled sunspots across the ground. She sat down next to him, brushing the dirt off her pajamas.
Grian sighed, turning away from Pearl, “I know it is. I count every letter I send to him...I miss him."
“I miss him, too,” Pearl said, “I miss all of them. I only recently learned that Big B and Martyn were alive, and I ended up having to kill them in a death game.”
Grian looked guiltily at the dirt, “I didn’t tell them enough how much I loved the. I miss Evo--Thimble and Curacao were good Watchers, even when they took me. They were still kind and mischievous. The others…”
“I know,” Pearl sighed, “I watched.”
“…Tim’s doing okay, at least.”
“He fled.”
Grian did a double-take turning to Pearl, “What? He just—he left Empires?”
“It crashed and burned,” Pearl said bitterly.
“Oh.”
Grian opened his arms, and Pearl fell into them. They comforted each other. A reminder that they weren’t alone in their curse.
Xisuma may be old, but he hadn’t seen as much as Grian and Pearl had.
“The Owl and the Canary,” Pearl sighed, “I hate how that’s true.”
“You can put the Phoenix on that list,” Grian chuckled humorlessly, “I’m pretty cursed myself.”
“Welcome to the club. We have cookies.”
The two laughed, genuine this time.
“A Watcher and a Reaper: adoptive siblings,” Grian grinned, “How weird is that?”
“An angel and a devil, eh?”
“Which one’s the angel and which one’s the devil?”
“Which one has angel wings, doofus.”