Work Text:
Pencil scratches paper as the creeper sketches. Not some world eating machine, or some tnt firing mech, this time it's wings. Butterfly wings, to be exact. He's not sure what kind yet, monarch has popped into his mind a few times, so has swallowtail. His ears flick behind him when he hears a knock at the door, he doesn't remember anyone messaging him that they'd come over?
"Come in," Doc says, he doesn't want to move and risk not being able to find the perfect spot where the sun hits his whole back, he doesn't want to deal with the problems that come with only his back legs getting sun while his front legs wilted. His ears flick downwards when he remembers the last time that happened, it took months for his fur to go back to its usual green.
"Hey dude," he's startled out of his thoughts when the person, Ren, opens the door, letting out a surprised hiss. He chirps out a greeting before focusing back onto the paper in front of him, pipevine swallowtails had nice wings. In any other case he'd probably wanted to pick the scariest species to model the wings after, but there wasn't much in terms of scary butterflies.
"Whatcha working on?" The dog hybrid asks, leaning over to look at the paper under his paws, "A new design for my elytra, might build them into myself though." Was there any butterfly in him? He wouldn't be surprised if there was, the main things that were mixed into him was goat and some kind of humanoid, probably multiple kinds of humanoid. He knows there's Avian, sometimes the fur on his tail will be shaped like feathers, especially when he spends time around the multiple Avians in the server.
Doc involuntarily shudders, he shouldn't be thinking about that. It's been, what, five thousand years since that. Five thousand years since he was stolen from his field. Five thousand years since he was modified and tortured and-
"Doc? You alright?" He blinks, the pencil snapped in half and his claws, one hand fur and bone and one hand metal and redstone, digging into the paper and the wooden table. Five thousand years since he was freed from that place. Five thousand years since he met Etho. Five thousand years since he met Xisuma and Ex and Cleo and Tango and Scar and-
"Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine, man. Don't worry." He went to pick up the pencil, "Can you grab me another pencil, I don't want to move from this spot." Ren laughs, handing him a new pencil. Five thousand years since he met his first friends. One thousand years since he became a Player. Six hundred years since he met his best friend.
Five thousand years since he's had a home.