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<TangoTek joined the game.>
Zedaph stops in the middle of his tracks. Surely the life game hadn’t ended this early on, right? It was only the fifth week of its existence. Maybe Tango was unfortunate this time around, getting eliminated early on. It was very Tango of him to somehow mess up a trap and get himself killed, Zedaph absently thinks.
He makes his way over to the citadel, seeing Tango’s soft, fiery blue hair poking out from one of the towers. He beams a friendly smile, climbing up the mountainside and reaching the top of one of the many towers of the half-finished citadel.
“Tango, hello, my friend!” Zedaph’s voice rings out. “How did that new game go? I heard from Impulse that it was about being soul bound to someone this time, and—“ He cut himself short when he realised that Tango is very much not talking. Or, at the very least, he’s not even acknowledging him. Maybe he didn’t hear him? Maybe he was AFK?
“Uh, T? Hello? You still there, mate?” Zedaph chuckles. Nervousness crawls into his voice as he steps around, closer to Tango’s side. He can finally see ice-blue eyes, but they’re not… Well, they’re not full of a beaming joy, not like they were before. Zedaph’s lips thin as he settles his hands on Tango’s shoulders, his grip tightening ever so slightly on the fabric of Tango’s winter coat.
“Tango, hey,” Zedaph says again, “what happened?” There’s still no reply, but just by the way Tango gives him a dull, almost lifeless glance, whatever had happened this time around was anything but good. He carefully pulls the netherborne into a comforting embrace.
Tango always returned them. This time, he didn’t.
Oh, it was that bad, wasn’t it? Zedaph thinks. He tries to read the emptiness of his friend’s face, finding nothing recognisable. He lets go of him entirely, only to reeled right back in. Zedaph squeaks in surprise, relaxing only moments later when he registers what had happened.
Tango’s shoulders shook, and it wasn’t from the cold. He muffles a particularly wounded noise in the crook of the sheep hybrid’s neck, burning tears trailing down his face. Zedaph is quick to show worry, pulling away just to meet Tango’s eyes.
“Come on, let’s get you some tea and a better place to talk about this,” Zedaph says, his voice soft and careful. He was treading on eggshells, trying to make Tango admit to having emotions (the netherborne wasn’t particular on showing emotions, let alone wanting to understand them), but he knew that Tango would at least agree to it.
They reach Zedaph’s small boulder base, entering from the small doorway. Tango removes his winter coat, the familiar red and black vest showing itself for the first time in what seems like years. Red always suited him, Zedaph thinks as he makes two cups of tea. He places one in front of Tango, watching as the netherborne’s tail flicks behind him, blue flames licking the end of it.
“You don’t have to go into too much detail, but I just want to know what happened,” Zedaph says. “Take your time, too, I know how you get when you feel rushed.”
Of course, Zedaph was right. It was- well, it was Zedaph talking, here.
Tango takes a deep breath, the familiar flames of his hair dying down a little.
“I was soul bound with Jimmy— you know Jimmy, yeah?” Tango confirms. Zedaph hums in response, giving a small nod.
“Well, we had a little ranch together,” Tango continued, “and the first one was burnt down by Scar, because Jimmy stole his horse— I mean, who burns down a house for a horse? ” He sighs. “Anyway, we rebuilt and… It was nice, for a while.” The small smile that had coloured his face began to dull, the fire of his hair growing back up again.
( “Jimmy, wait—!” Tango cries out in pain as a crushing blow shoots through him, Jimmy landing on the rough ground below the tall platform. )
“Tango, breathe.” Zedaph’s voice rings him back into reality like a bell. He takes a shaky breath, squeezing the sheep hybrid’s hand in confirmation.
“Jimmy died from falling off a platform, moving us down to red, and then an Enderman attacked him and…” Tango trails off. He remembers how he felt the claws dig into his chest and arms, pinning Jimmy down as he panicked, failing to block off the hisses and growls of the Enderman as it tore through him, leaving him bloodied and limp.
Tango followed suit, at the front doorstep of the Relation-Ship. He whispered Jimmy’s name before he finally sunk into the embrace of death, tears stained on his face as his red name dulled into a dark, ominous grey. He blinks, and he doesn’t realise he started crying.
This was fine. This was fine.
It wasn’t fine.
Zedaph pulls Tango into another embrace, this time more comforting rather than trying to ground him back to reality. He keeps the netherborne close, tracing circles on his shoulders; it’s a soothing, small motion.
“We weren’t next to each other when we—'' Tango chokes out. He takes another shaky, deep breath. He tightens his grip on Zedaph, finally letting himself break. It’s a small, fragile tap on the cracking glass of emotions, tipping and swaying in Tango’s chest. The cup finally shatters, waves of regret and grief drowning the netherborne and dousing him of the fiery pride that usually beamed on his face.
Zedaph adjusts his arms as Tango sinks further into him, cradling the back of Tango’s head, almost protectively. He ignores how the flames lick his skin, touching long-fade burn scars from a particular season of Hermitcraft. It had been the first time Zedaph had seen Tango truly angry, he recalls absently, and he didn’t know that touching an angry blazeborne was such a bad idea.
Not the time, Zedaph chastises himself.
He shifts as Tango reluctantly pulls away, the flames of his hair dying out entirely. Soft, blonde-blue hair remains, a familiar sight that Zedaph preferred over the constant flames. He reaches up, settling his fingers into the soft strands of Tango’s hair and combing through them precariously. It was another ground motion, letting Tango slump his shoulders and unclench his tight jaw.
It was then the exhaustion on Tango’s face dawned on Zedaph. Had he slept at all on that server? The concern must’ve been visible, as Tango gives a fond, knowing smile. He knew he looked like he hadn’t slept, and maybe he really hadn’t (but saying that to Zedaph, one of the resident doctors, was not a good idea), but he didn’t let that bother him.
“T, you’re going to take a nap whether you like it or not,” Zedaph deadpans. Tango cannot help but laugh at the serious tone to it; sure, it was meant to be firm, but putting the word ‘nap’ in a serious context dulled the strict message. He watches as Zedaph crafts a makeshift bed, also affectionately known between themselves and Impulse as a pillow fort, and pats the blanket ground beside him, laying down as Tango does.
Soft blue and magenta colour Tango’s vision, clouding over the sunset outside that seeped through the windows. He lifts his arm up, gesturing to his side as Zedaph scoots closer, his arms familiarly slotting around Tango’s middle. It’s all familiar, they had done this hundreds of times before.
Tango can feel the exhaustion weighing on him now. His tail instinctively curls around Zedaph’s legs, the sheep hybrid already falling asleep himself. Maybe they both needed this, in hindsight; Tango knew how often Zedaph would overpower himself, especially during the weeks of the life games. He had heard stories from Xisuma, Doc, Keralis, and even Cub, of having to drag Zedaph away from his work, unable to do anything except that.
He opens his mouth to speak, but closes it with an audible click, seeing Zedaph sound asleep, his face partially buried in Tango’s chest. One of his ears flick as he sleeps, not stirring him from his sound slumber.
Tango smiles, pulling Zedaph just a few inches closer.
“G’night, Z.”