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When Scar hears the click of the crossbow behind him, he thinks that this is going to be where it all ends.
When he turns around and sees an angel for the very first time, well -- it turns out, this is where it all begins .
It had not been honorable for Bdubs to shoot at Scar’s back, especially not when they’ve been allies. But Scar understands: this is not a game of honor, and they both have plenty of blood on their hands. Therefore, Scar would not have begrudged Bdubs the kill, and in fact, even as he turns, he is still planning on not begrudging his friend, because Scar is expecting to die.
Instead he sees an angel.
Right in the trajectory of a bolt, a figure appears, all starlight and void and feathers of Eyes, in perfect time to take the crossbow bolt to what Scar imagines might be an arm. The thing makes a sound approximating a shriek, something that rattles and somehow creates visible and audible static at the same time. Scar can see Bdubs’ jaw drop in confusion and horror even as he looses a second shot --
Which ricochets abruptly off the creature’s raised palm, deflecting it harmlessly.
Bdubs goes utterly still.
Scar has his sword out, of course, ready to take revenge for Bdubs’ betrayal, and the stardusted mirage does not stop this action.The blood pulsating in his veins and his adrenaline screams for him to fight, survive, kill, win, and he takes advantage of Bdubs’ dumbfoundedness to grab the man by the shoulder and pull him onto Scar’s sword.
Blood splatters up a silver blade. Scar’s eyes flash red.
There is no chance for words as Bdubs wheezes with the last air in his lungs, and the light goes out of his eyes.
Bdubs’ body falls, and Scar turns his chair to regard the strange thing.
It is humanoid, he sees now, though its silhouette is hard to follow with however many pairs of wings wreath it, and the eyes somehow everywhere except its face. It reaches up and grabs the bolt piercing its upper arm and rips it free as if it were a stick out of sand. To Scar’s surprise, its blood is red and human.
Even more surprising, it speaks
"You are the last Player standing."
Scar instinctively points his sword at it, looking it up and down, giving it a firm smirk. “What? You’re not playing too?”
Some of the eyes move, and some of them don’t. Spooky. “I am not.” Scar thinks it’s regarding him. “I am the Gamemaster.”
Which isn’t much of an answer, is it? Scar squints deeper, keeping his sword steady. “What, you organized all of this? Plopped us into this server?"
"Yes. I wanted to see what actions you would take, and I brought you here to see it through. And you have won." It say these things like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Its head tilts. “Scar, correct?”
"Yep," Scar says, popping the p . He doesn't question how he knows it (he's the gamemaster, after all, maybe he’s a bit omniscient). His sword drops so it's tip sinks into the dirt, hardly caring enough to sheath it right now. His eyes dance across the being again, then to the wound in its arm, blood seeping slowly from it and dripping down its wrist and into its hand. He hums thoughtfully. "You have a name for me?"
It wouldn’t be Scar if he didn’t try his tricks, but the creature doesn’t even twitch. "Not for you, no. Fae tricks are not welcomed by beings such my kind. You should not try such things."
Scar wrinkles his nose. " Your kind is no fun!” (He has absolutely no idea what this thing is or what they’re talking about.) Would it kill you to give a guy your name?" He shakes his head. Well. It is usually worth trying.
He rolls forward a bit and rummages through his bag in search of some kind of rag, laying his sword across his lap. He ends up finding the shirt he abandoned a few sessions ago and tosses it towards the being. "What's your name?"
It catches the shirt, and almost looks confused as it regards it. "Xelqua." It replies.
"Xelqua," Scar tests out, and wow, it does not taste right on his tongue. "Weird. Glad I didn't take it." Probably would’ve given him a headache.
Scar’s eyes slide towards the thing’s injury, where the bolt had broken skin. That bolt should have been in Scar’s back, and Scar should be dead. That’s not a small thing to do. Scar is alive -- because of this Xelqua. "I shouldn't have won.” Scar points out, curious if this is the ending the Gamemaster wanted. “Should've been Bdubs. He did catch me with my back turned.”
"There is no changing things now." Xelqua responds. "You have prevailed."
Then it goes quiet, becoming harder to look at, somehow, twitching.
“No, I’m asking, really.” He clicks his tongue. “Why did you make me win? What’s your angle here?” Scar presses.
“Because …” Xelqua begins, only to stop speaking and to suddenly still.
Something is wrong.
Scar is not the most in-tune to the workings of servers, but he knows something is wrong. The sky is going to static, and the Gamemaster looks ... terrified. This server is dying, Scar thinks. His eyes dance between the sky and Xelqua. He doesn't often consider himself a fearful man, but server corruption is a serious thing. For as careless with his lives as he may be, he doesn't care to be corrupted alongside a server, which he will be, if he stays.
He laughs hollowly, and when his eyes snap back to Xelqua one last time, and he reads the fear loud and clear. He swallows. "So, uh, is this how the game ends? Shutting the server down? Maybe I should-- we should get outta here.” A nervous laugh escapes him.
Xelqua doesn’t seem to be looking at Scar anymore. He’s muttering under his breath, and the only thing Scar can catch is I will not hurt him. Scar wheels back a little, considering his escapes. If he dies, will he get sent home? That means the game would be over.
But Xelqua ...
But why concern himself with it? The sky is shattering and Scar has bigger problems.
But...
I will not hurt him.
It's a promise. Defiance of something large for the sake of Scar? Why?
A promise is a promise. Scar huffs and wheels forward, tugging at Xelqua’s hand.
Scar takes Xelqua's hand, tugging. "Mind putting a pin in this convo? We've gotta get off this server now .
A lot of things happen at once.
Scar doesn’t see a hand, but he sees it grab. He sees it grab Xelqua by the wings, yanking him upwards like a doll, and Scar’s grip tightens around Xelqua’s wrist.
When the heart of the server is broken, Scar is set free, and his home reaches for him. Scar holds tight to Xelqua.
He’s going to return the favor he was given.
The twisted game crumbles, and they are lost spinning in the nothingness for only a moment before the world comes back into focus -- another world.
Scar sits up. His head twinges, but it could be worse. He immediately categorizes what he sees: a village nearby, possibly already ransacked, but still good for shelter and resources -- unfamiliar terrain, untouched -- is this the new season? Had he missed the start? Had they begun without their missing players?
His eyes catch on a form just a few dozen yards away.
“Alive?” Scar asks.
It shifts.
It -- Xelqua -- is something closer to truly humanoid now. It had been wearing a mask before, but that mask must’ve been lost in their server jump. Its face is surprisingly normal -- there’s an unearthly glow to its freckles, and its eyes are purple, scleras and all, but it’s still something approaching Playerhood. It tries to get up and wedge its elbows beneath it, but its left arm, the one it had injured, appears to fail to hold its weight. There’s still blood there. “I -- I.”
Scar sits back a bit, holding himself up with his arms. He lets out a short laugh.
“Alive then.”
A changeling and an angel on a new server.
Scar’s sure he’s had to have heard this joke before.