Chapter Text
Being one of Them means feeling most things from outside the body. To rephrase: the body is merely an inconvenience. Watchers do not Watch with mortal eyes, They do not speak with a mortal tongue.
When Xelqua wakes up they don’t feel anything.
And it takes an embarrassingly long time, but eventually they decide to try and see if their body will have any better luck. And it does.
They feel green grass on their skin that isn't under their robes. At first it tingles painfully. Their sense of touch hasn’t been used at all for the last—while. The void is good for floating, flying, and not much else.
They decide to experiment. With the body’s eyes still squeezed tightly shut, they decide to move their hand.
Each blade of glass is like a needle, at first. Then more like a pinprick. And then—perhaps hours later—it actually feels quite soft. Feeling daring, they reach down with their hand and pull up a handful of grass.
It’s not only grass that comes up, it’s also dirt. So they use their fingers to dig a small hole in the ground. It’s cold and damp and probably full of worms. It smells—and isn't that amazing, because they’ve probably not used their sense of smell once since becoming one of Them—like earth and like being alive. Like being part of the world. Like simply being. It’s hard to explain, really.
The feelings all at once start to sting, and Xelqua decides that’s enough experimenting for now. Touching and smelling and feeling can get overwhelming if done for too long, they realize. That’ll be good to remember, now that they’re a player again.
Xelqua lays their head in the grass and does something they haven’t done in a long, long time.
They sleep.
Meanwhile, a group of four solitary hermits argue over the sight of a shooting star.
One of them swears to have seen something unexplainable in the sky, a mystic force or a miracle. Another swears that whatever it is can be explained away with science.
One of the newest hermits does not want anything to do with strange miracles. She leaves the conversation as soon as it starts.
The fourth hermit knows exactly what he saw. He also wonders why he finds himself involved in every strange and unexplained occurrence on the server. He really has the most rotten bad luck.
When they wake up one thing is immediately different. There is brightness on their eyelids. Oh, they remember now. The sun.
That’s… inconvenient. Is it going to be like that all the time? No matter how hard they squint against the light, it stays. Well, for now they can just cover their eyes with their hands, and that’ll do.
But their mind starts to wander, and… they’re bored. They can’t just lie here all day. They just became a Player! They’ve got to do things, Player things. Like walk, maybe.
They can do that. They can! It can’t be hard, they’ve even done it before, though it’s been ages since then and they don’t remember it well. Anyway. The first thing to do has got to be to stand up. So. Right.
They move their hands away from their eyes, and they cringe against the light even with their eyes closed. But there’s nothing to be done about it. It’s fine. They then press their hands against the ground, which is covered in grass, and raise themself up with their arms, and fall back onto their heels, and now they are sitting.
They’ve got to spread their wings out for extra balance, and it’s a bit wobbly, but still. Sitting. That’s a start. Now…
They flap their wings and propel themselves into the air. There's gravity here, in the world, which they had of course expected, but gravity is a lot stronger than they remember and they start falling a lot earlier than they thought they would. Their eyes are still shut tight, so when their feet hit the ground it’s a bit of a shock and their knees give out. It's alright though, they can try again!
Same problem the second time. Maybe if they just opened their eyes a little…
Xelqua was supposed to remember that feelings can be overwhelming, but they forget and decide to open their eyes. And it’s not a good idea.
The light is blinding, and sends a searing pain through their head. They were sitting but now they find that they are lying down again. They also forgot that another thing Players feel is pain. That’s unfortunate. Watchers can feel pain too, in a sense, but it’s not of the body. This pain that Xelqua is feeling right now is of the body, that is for sure. Maybe having a body is not worth the trouble. But it’s what they’re stuck with now, so. Great.
The pain makes them want to shout, or maybe swear. Two things that are so very Player-like. But they haven’t spoken aloud in so long that they’ve forgotten how, so they don’t.
They’ve forgotten a lot of things, it seems.
They curl their hands up against their eyes to block out the light, and decide to lay in the grass until the night comes.
“Oh god, what am I doing? This is ridiculous. Here I am, parading through the jungle alone, and didn’t even think to bring my sword! I am such a spoon. Oh no, don’t do it skeleton! …phew. Thank god I at least brought a bow. Thank. God.
“I really… I mean I really thought it landed somewhere around here. Please, let it be here, I just wanna go home now. I guess it could be across the river? Maybe it’s—oh. Oh god.”
Being one of Them means feeling most things from outside of the body.
Such as the feeling of being watched.
At some point in the afternoon, the hair on the back of their neck starts to stand on end, and they get goosebumps, which are both strange body sensations, but mostly—
The feeling is much deeper. It feels—cruel. Maybe painful. Or maybe like the expectation of pain. Like they’re on the precipice of falling, on the brink of suffocation, on the verge of collapse.
What can they do? Time is stretching on forever and the weight of eyes grows heavier. Their chest aches, like they’re missing something, like—air, right, Players need air. Where has it all gone?
Time stretches and distorts and suddenly they sense vibrations in the earth. Could be footsteps. Right? But wouldn’t they hear that? It’s getting closer, anyway. Xelqua finds it hard to think. Their mind isn’t working properly, clouded over with something that makes them want to cover their head with the hood of their robes and press their unwieldy body down into the grass, as if they could hide there.
The footsteps stop, but Xelqua cannot move. They are stuck under the weight of the eyes. Pinned there, like—a dead animal for examination. They can only wait for whatever will be done to them.
But nothing happens.
Xelqua cannot open their eyes, but they can still tell when they are finally no longer being watched. And now sensations that they had somehow ignored start to become noticeable, such as the shaky tremors running through their body, and the painful ache in their lungs because they have not drawn a breath in minutes, and the way they are gripping their hair in tight hands, and the tears that are running down their face.
They think that the—that whoever was watching is still there, just no longer looking at them. If they move, then they might look at them again. But maybe they can draw a breath without being noticed, if they are quiet.
It works, so they breathe in again. The breaths are not even, they are staggered, sort of, and it doesn’t feel like quite enough air. But that’s alright, there had been a time when they had been forced to hold their breath for much longer than this. As long as there is at least a little air, they should be fine.
However, there is still the problem of the other being nearby. Xelqua cannot open their eyes. But it is nighttime now, and they need to see who’s there, so maybe they can do it after all if they are very quick.
Xelqua looks.
It is a man, sitting down in the grass a good distance away, and he’s talking on some device, and he has a mustache, and—
Oh, that wasn’t nearly enough time. It was scary, but it wasn’t painful. Okay, they can do this. After all these years of Watching, they can’t be afraid to open their eyes.
Okay. The man is dressed in a fine suit. He’s speaking into something with a tall antennae and a blinking light. His lips are moving but Xelqua can’t hear the words. And there’s something about him that is so familiar. They know that the man has appeared in their memories but they can’t place them, and it makes their heart ache in a way that is so player-like.
Xelqua squeezes their eyes shut again. It was a bad idea to look. A terrible, awful idea. But it was wonderful, because they could see with the eyes of a Player instead of a Watcher, and they want to look again and find out if the man has brown eyes, because they think he might. And they want to look out at the world, inspect everything, find out what it looks like up close, because Watchers are only allowed to Watch from a distance, from above, and they’re not allowed to Look freely because there is always a job to do, and if it is not completed then They will know, and then—and then—
It was a bad idea to look. Xelqua tries to remain completely still to avoid redrawing the man’s attention. They do sense eyes on them again, though, and they hold their breath until, finally, they are not being watched and they feel the vibrations of footsteps getting farther and farther until they are gone.
They are exhausted from all the sensations, and they really want to find a nice cave to crawl into and hide, but they can't do that while the sun is still out. The other did not hurt them, and did not touch them. It should be safe to wait here until nighttime. They hope it will be safe.
“Hey, guys, so I’ve got to tell you—no, I—no, I didn’t find anything, but—can I just—okay, it, I dunno, it must’ve been a trick of the light. But there’s nothing here. Yeah, I’m… disappointed.
“Anyway, I’m trying to tell you. I’m gonna be gone for a few days so don’t worry if I—no. No, there weren’t any aliens, Scar. Or a meteor. Or a—okay. I’m just—whatever. I’ll see you in a few days. Bye.”
“Oh god. What am I going to do?”