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The candlelight flickered inside the lantern, its flame wavering as Grian tended to a few injuries of his. His sweater was off, hanging on a chair in the lower loft, and he wore a white tank top instead. His arms were covered in bandages, wrapping around his skin, a few gashes stained with dried blood. His tattered wings were folded against his back as he cut off another strip of bandage, looking over a large scar running along his forearm, still red and irritated from the cleaning products he had used on it.
Grian sighed, looking over to his sweater. It was worn, a few tears in the fabric; he made a mental note to try and sew it up again.
He tried his best to relax, despite Yellow Life instincts screaming at him in his mind; this isn’t right. You don’t belong there. You’ll die.
Besides the uncomfortable feeling in his mind, his gut told him that he would be okay. After all, he did make a friend despite their differences.
A sudden knock sounded from the trapdoor over the ladder, and Grian’s head shot up, his body growing tense. But he relaxed when he heard who was upstairs.
“Grian? You in there?” A voice asked him, quiet, and the winged man smiled in relief when realizing it was Pete.
“Come in,” he called, remembering to keep his voice low enough as the trapdoor opened, Pete climbing down the ladder.
Pete was wearing his uniform still, although it was more catered to himself: a dark indigo, buttoned-up vest, a white long-sleeve underneath. He wore black slacks to go along with the formalities, and black dress-shoes. He was still wearing his dark-blue beanie over his sage-green hair, bangs falling in a swoop just over his right eye.
The winged man caught something in the taller’s grasp, something red, and he stood up, still wrapping the bandage around his arm.
“Did you get the flowers?” He asked, Pete nodding in reply.
“Yeah, I got them from Kayfour, thankfully,” he said sheepishly, “Although they kept asking me who it was for.”
“Good thing you didn’t blow my cover.” Grian commented, walking over to Pete, taking the wrapped flowers from his hands. Pete looked down to him, a curious look on his face.
“And… what exactly did you need these for?”
“Red dye,” Grian said offhandedly, already heading over to the crafting table in the corner of the loft, “For my hair and my clothes. You said I needed to blend in, didn’t you?”
“Well yeah, but-” Pete paused, trying to find the right words to say. Grian looked at him expectantly.
“Isn’t it your Pendant that you have to worry about? Because there’s no way you’re gonna be able to hide those.” He pointed out, and Grian stopped.
“Well…I could just use dye for it too, but I’d need to bring some with us when we leave,” Grian suggested. “Also- when, exactly, are we leaving?”
“I’d say in a day or two; we shouldn’t be leaving too late if you want to get home as quickly as possible,” Pete sighed, walking over to stand just next to the winged man. “I don’t want HBG getting any more suspicious than they already are.”
“But I feel like I should stay here longer; you said Fruitberries is already on your case, and he’s going to put it together that you’re hiding m- a Yellow Life, here.”
Grian said, and Pete grew quiet, pondering over their options. Silence filled the room, and Grian didn’t know what to do. Both options weren’t ideal, but then again, his whole situation wasn’t in the slightest. All he intended to do was just trade with a village that just so happened to be near the border between his territory and Pete’s. And now, he was paying the price for it.
Xisuma was right; I never should’ve left.
“Hey.” A hand settled on his shoulder, warm and comforting, bringing him back to reality. Grian looked up to meet Pete’s gaze, honey-golden eyes settling on light blue.
“You’re gonna get back home. I’ll help you in any way I can.”
Grian cracked a smile; “I know you would. Otherwise you wouldn’t have spared my life during that raid.”
“I already saved your life when I brought you here instead of leaving you in the middle of fucking nowhere ,” Pete chuckled, hand slipping off Grian’s shoulder, “Now I have to commit to it; can’t just leave you to die again.”
“Yeah, you made a promise, can’t break it now,” the winged man teased, just finishing with crafting the red dye for his hair and the permanent pattern of his attire. “Pete, do you have a bucket of water or anything for me to soak this in?”
“Uhh, there should be a cauldron underneath the table over there,” Pete pointed to Grian’s left, and the winged man looked over to see something in the wooden floor under the slab of the tabletop. “Do you need me to heat up the water, or…?”
“Probably won’t need to; I don’t want this to be permanent.” Grian replied.
The taller opened his mouth, about to say something else, but the two heard a door open from upstairs. Grian froze, eyes slowly traveling up the ladder, gaze cautiously focusing on the trapdoor. Footsteps made muffled thuds against the ceiling. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Pete’s body stiffen, the Pendant attached to the arm of his shirt glowed brighter.
“Who-Who’s upstairs?” Grian whispered, panic starting to settle in his chest. Pete didn’t respond verbally, only turning to Grian and frantically gesturing to a small break in the wall behind one of his bookshelves, which was how he and Grian got back in the first place. The shorter didn’t hesitate to run over to the shelf, trying his best to slide in between, to hide in the small area.
He flinched at the loud sound of the trapdoor bursting open, causing his heart to race. His heart skipped a beat, he stopped moving . He was scared as he saw someone climbing down the ladder, the lime-green top of their uniform sticking out amidst the dimly-lit area.
“Pete! What are you doing down here?” They called to him, tone holding a smidge of frustration. Even in Grian’s frozen state, he noticed Pete step closer to the ladder, in front of Grian in an attempt to block him from the other Player’s view.
“Fruit, I didn’t give you permission to come down here-” Pete’s voice wavered, and only then did Grian realize how panicked his friend was, and finally, finally, he snapped out of shock, trying his best to hide in the gap. But by then, it was too late.
“Pete, for fuck’s sake, HBG hasn’t seen you in, like, a week!” They exclaimed, turning to face him, still hanging onto the rungs of the ladder. Lime-green bangs were brushed to one side of their face, pinned back by their mask tilted to the side. “I overheard Kayfour talking about seeing you today, and I just wanted to come over and talk-”
They looked past him, and Grian felt their gaze lock on him. Sharp-green eyes bore into his own, practically burning holes into his face.
Grian couldn’t breathe. Pete didn’t dare turn around, but the winged man caught his stature straighten, stiffen. He saw his Pendant glow brighter at the Player’s- Fruit’s, realization.
Fruitberries’ expression grew shocked, angry, and Grian could see his instincts beginning to wash over the surface.
“Pete, who the fuck is that?”