Work Text:
“…You think I’m a handful?” Scar mutters, fixing up the terraforming by Trader Scar’s.
<Grian> sorry. i didnt mean it
<Grian> i mean i did but i dont anymore
”Oh It's fine. It's whatever. Water under the skynet! Had to get the message eventually.” He scoops up a block of dirt in his hand. He breathes in, and it smells of rain- It's much easier to stop it now, with the lack of players and all. He places the block of dirt. He places another. He can feel the lifeblood of the server in his fingernails.
Scar frowns. What a morbid thought. He grabs a handful of weeds, allowing the needles to scratch up his hands as he pulls them from the ground.
<Grian> scar. you cant stay like this forever
Scar lifts himself from his work. "I can't?"
Back in Third Life, he wanted Grian to live a happy life after he was gone. He was happy with that. He died, for Grian to have that. But it was lost, on Grian.
Scar would never have the home he desperately wanted back. However, he could- give himself this, couldn't he? He pulls another handful of weeds. Places a grass block. Then another. "I think I can. Whose gonna stop me? Nothing can hurt me here. Nothing can break me. Can it? Maybe I could go past the world border. Maybe we'll find a desert."
Grian, for all his usual wordiness, does not respond.
//
He heads back inside when it starts getting dark. The server gets cold at the night. Never any colder than the desert was, however, so its bearable.
He breathes into his hands to warm them, then grabs a flint and steel to light his gas lamp. He's not the most eager to get to sleep- There's still so little to do. But tomorrow he gets to go and reclaim more hearts from the Secret Keeper, which is a bonus. Not that it matters anymore. He'll live forever, at this point. (It scares him, a little.)
He lays, motionless, on his bed. The world is cold. He is warm. He stares at the ceiling. He is warm. His gaze burns into the ceiling. He is a wildfire. He is scorched earth. He does not cry.
//
Scar wakes up early next morning. Wakes the well trodden path to the Secret Keeper, hits the button, gets his task: Win Secret Life. His laugh is cruel. He thinks he's earned that- Feeling a little cruel about this whole thing. He stares at the task in his hands. He... doesn't want to play along, today. He just doesn't.
He goes back inside. He hurts. It is human pain, though, and that's nice. That he's alive. He won Secret Life.
"...What are you still doing here, G?" He asks, almost accusatory.
<Grian> i dont know.
<Grian> waiting for you.