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Scar had been gone for nearly half the day, by Grian’s best estimates. He had left Monopoly Mountain sometime around dawn, declaring something about seeing Etho. Grian wasn’t sure that Etho would be bringing anything good, but rather than worry about Scar getting himself into trouble he decided to focus on setting up their base. It was about time, after all.
Now, Grian liked to consider himself a good builder- he had an eye for palettes and shapes, and though neither were particularly helpful in a death game, he wasn’t about to let the building they may very well die in be a cobblestone cube. Not that he intended to lose his final life in Scar’s company, of course, but on the off chance Scar went before Grian even lost a life… Well, a proper castle would be a much better setting.
And so Grian built, working away at the walls of their new home under the burning desert sun, which beat down on him relentlessly as he went. He could feel his undershirt sticking to his skin, and his red jumper and gold armor trapped heat around his arms and torso, cooking him inside out. Grian, however, felt that even though he was in agony from the heat, taking off his armor left him vulnerable, and if he died to a stupid mob while trying to build a castle he wouldn’t be staying in for long because he decided to take off his armor for a bit, he would certainly feel rather stupid. And it wasn’t like it was unbearable, either- as long as Grian focused on his building, he could ignore the sweat dripping down his back and the slight headache he had gotten. He may not have been acclimated to heat at the start, but after a few days in the desert Grian felt confident that he could handle it.
That was, until Scar broke his focus.
“Hellooo? Mansion builder? Hello?” Scar sang from beneath his feet.
“Hello,” Grian called out, his voice scratchier than he expected, “Where have you been?”
“I have really bad news, I was trying to get the cat that Etho promised me and-” Scar’s head poked out from the top of the ladder to the roof Grian was working on, “Whoa, Grian, you alright? You look a little red there,” Scar giggled.
“Hm? Yeah I’m just… A lil’ sunburnt, is all,” Grian began, beginning to put his pickaxe away to get out some sandstone stairs, but fumbling in his inventory for a second longer than usual. A strange expression passed over Scar’s face, but it was gone as quickly as it appeared.
“Well, how about you and I take a little break? I can tell you all about how Etho humiliated me downstairs, and while we may not have lemonade to drink I do have some water and rabbit we can eat,” offered Scar.
“Yeah,” Grian mumbled, head feeling a bit fuzzy, “A break sounds… Nice.”
Then Grian stumbled backward, and hit the roof of the mansion, hard.
Scar was glad he was well versed enough in first aid from his own clumsiness to have a general sense of what had happened to Grian. Quickly ascending the last few rungs of the ladder, Scar ran over to assess Grian’s unconscious body. Grian was very flushed in the face, his lips were dry, and- Scar reached down to touch his face- he was burning up. The heat of the desert had caught up with Grian. As Scar pulled his hand away, he briefly touched the edge of Grian’s helmet, and Scar flinched from the sudden burn. The metal was scalding to the touch. No wonder Grian was unconscious, he was practically being cooked alive.
Scar knew generally what to do in this situation; move the unconscious person into the shade or a cool space, apply cold water to critical areas, and then when they were awake get them to slowly drink. He had to move Grian elsewhere as fast as he could, and then get him out of his armor and use what water he had in his buckets to cool off Grian as much as possible. Should be easy enough, he thought, before he realized where he was.
On top of the roof, with the only way inside being a ladder, and no shade provided by the rest of the tower at this time of day- how could Scar get him out of the Sun? He felt himself begin to panic, his heart rate rising, and he quickly checked his inventory to see if he had any blocks on hand to build a shelter, finding none. Almost out of options, his eyes settled on the water bucket in his inventory, and quickly his mind formed a solution.
Maybe he could take out two birds with one stone.
Grian awoke absolutely drenched, and in incredible pain.
He was on his back, inside his new build, looking up the ladder shaft to a frazzled-but-relieved-looking Scar quickly removing some water and sliding down the ladder to meet him, and-
“Scar,” he groaned.
“Grian, don’t get up yet! We’ve got to move you to the bed,” said Scar, kneeling down next to him.
“Scar,” he repeated, “Wh… How did you get me down here?”
“Oh! I pushed you down the ladder,” Scar responded cheerfully.
“You WHAT.”
“Well, it was the only way I could get you down!” Scar whined.
Grian groaned and laid his head back on the floor. His head was pounding, and he still felt a bit dizzy as Scar scooped him up with ease (if Grian made any startled noises he hoped they were too quiet for Scar to hear) and carried him over to the bed by the door.
“You don’t really need to carry me,” Grian complained anyway, “I bet I could walk, though I might need to lean on you a bit.”
“Nope,” said Scar, “Not letting you. It’s not that far anyway, and you weigh absolutely nothing.”
Scar laid Grian gently on the bed, a far softer landing than the one that had woken Grian up.
“Now here,” said Scar, pulling a bucket of water from his inventory, “Drink. Slowly. And you have to do what I say, you owe me your first life.”
“Yeah, you wouldn’t’ve pulled me out of the sun otherwise,” Grian scoffed, as he sat up and put the bucket up to his lips. He knew he was being mean, but surely Grian could be forgiven for being a bit grumpy after he literally passed out from being dehydrated. Scar still looked melancholic at his statement though, awkwardly looking away as Grian drank.
“That’s not true…” Scar mumbled. Grian set down his water bucket. He had chugged a good portion of it, considering it was a full bucket.
“No reason for it not to be,” he sighed, shifting to pull his legs up to his chest. Scar remained quiet. Grian ached.
“Well!” Scar seemingly rebooted, brushing off the awkward shift in tone, “Is there much left to be done on the base?”
“There’s still some work I want to do on the exterior, and I want to add some defenses around the edge of the desert to prevent people from just waltzing in, but the biggest problem is in the interior,” said Grian. “Shock! Grian doesn’t want to do interior, I know… But if you could do the inside while I finish up the rest then-”
“Noooo, nope nope nope, you are staying here, mister, and drinking your water. No worrying about the base, I will take care of everything.”
Grian raised his eyebrows.
“What’s that look for?! I can do it!” Scar said indignantly.
“Somehow, I doubt it,” said Grian.
“Now Grian, would I really lie like that? I’ve never lied to anyone, ever. You know that.”
Grian raised his eyebrows further.
“Well, I wouldn’t lie to you, at least,” Scar said, a little too earnestly for Grian’s tastes. If he wasn’t already flushed from the heat he might’ve worried about if his face was red.
“Why not?” Grian sniffed, breaking eye contact with Scar.
“We’re partners, aren’t we?” said Scar.
“...Yeah,” Grian swallowed, “I guess we are.”
At this, Scar grinned and straightened up. “So! As your partner, I think I can handle whatever needs to be done. No more working for you today.”
“Fine,” Grian said, “But at least start with the interior before trying to do anything outside. It’ll bother me if I have to sit around and do nothing in an empty build.” Though if Grian was going to be honest, it’d bother him to sit around and do nothing anywhere on this server.
“Of course! Might as well, have to keep an eye on you anyway,” said Scar, already rummaging through a nearby chest for supplies, “You might try to sneak out on me to get some work done.”
More like I have to keep an eye on you, Grian thought, taking a slow sip from his bucket of water. The idea of Scar running out into the desert and getting himself killed all because Grian forgot to mind the heat made Grian’s stomach turn.
What would Grian do if Scar went down to his last life, anyway? Grian closed his eyes and pictured Scar, his name and eyes tinted a blood-soaked red, staring at him across the desert sands, the heat warping his form on the horizon. He tried to imagine himself doing what any self-respecting person would do, turning and running, cutting his promise with Scar off and running towards the nearest trustworthy ally. But then he opened his eyes, and saw Scar, the real Scar, glancing at him every minute or so and grinning when their eyes met instead of looking away, and he thought about how, despite it all, Scar seemed to genuinely care for him. Despite Grian’s nasty prank, and snide remarks, and (admittedly) occasionally controlling attitude, and despite the fact that they are in a literal killing game in which trust is a gamble that should not be taken lightly, Scar cared for him. He didn’t pull Grian out of the sun because of their deal, no, because then he would’ve let Grian work after ensuring he’d recovered, he’d done it because he cared. If it came down to it, would Grian be able to turn his back on him?
Grian took another sip of his water, and watched Scar step back and look over his work for flaws with keen yellow eyes, before huffing and moving in to rearrange some furniture, an air of determination about him that made Grian shiver.
Grian wasn’t sure he liked his heart’s answer to his question.