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His breath came heavy, causing sparse clouds of sand to split from the sea, to bloom and wrap around his feet.
Another arrow collided with his shield, the impact forcing him to stumble back slightly. He felt his back hit something solid and warm. Scar . He whispered a rushed apology, hearing a murmur of recognition in return.
Grian heard the telltale hissing of a creeper behind him as it stumbled slowly towards the two.
Curse Scar’s ignorant ass. Curse his own poor judgement. Curse the very stars in the sky, making them face repercussions for their ignorance.
Apparently the random placement of torches that they had spread across the ocean of sand weren’t enough to keep the mobs completely at bay. And now, they were having to deal with that mistake. Oh fuck-
Another arrow slamming into the wood, Grian lowered his shield slightly, eyeing down the skeleton in front of him as it began to draw another arrow.
The creaking and clacking of the undead creature was almost taunting in a way. As if it knew that Grian’s shield really couldn’t take this much relentless pressure.
Grian waited for another arrow to be shot before he took his chance. This one didn’t hit the shield though, flying past Grian’s shoulder as he took his change, pushing himself forwards and lowering the shield as he shoved his sword through the skeleton’s ribcage and twisted it.
The creature looked up at him from where it had been focusing to restring the arrow.
It dissolved where it stood. A small pile of dust remained, that Grian stomped into the sand. Serves the fucker right, almost taking out his fucking shield.
Turning behind him, Grian glanced back at scar to make sure that the stray arrow hadn’t hit an unwanted target.
Scar seemed alright though, dusting off something that he had picked up from the now-dead creeper's remains.
He saw an arrow lying on the sandy ground. Ah. That’s where the shot had gone then.
Scar brushed off the last few grains of sand and dropped the disc gently into his bag.
He looked up and smiled, grabbing Grian’s wrist and walking them both back up the side of the mountain.
“Scar?” Grian questioned. “What about the other mobs?”
Scar made a clicking sound with his tongue. “They’ll be fine, they’ll despawn in a while. Besides, the area around the house is lit up much better than around here, and I need a break.”
Grian tripped over a rock as he got pulled up the side of the mountain. “I get that!” He exclaimed, “but don’t you think you could- shit- let go of me? And let me walk bymyself? I keep almost- FUCK - tripping!”
Scar, in fact, did not let go of Grian’s arm, and dragged him all the way up to the house, slamming open the door and marching over to a collection of chests and barrels in the corner.
Still ignoring Grian’s insistent pleas to slow down and wait a minute, Scar pulled out his pickaxe with his free hand, (the other still holding onto Grian’s wrist, and he began to hack away at the sandstone wall in front of them.
Grian looked away from him, trying to hide his face from the flying chunks of rocks splintering from the wall. Eventually, a large piece split off from the wall, and the digging stopped.
Grian looked back at Scar, who had finally dropped his wrist in favour of digging through the chest, looking for… whatever he was looking for.
Scar eventually pulled his head out of the chest, a diamond proudly clutched in his hand. Grian only gawked at him a little. He had diamonds this whole time, yet he still took everyone else’s armour? This guy was fucking rediculous. Grian regretted more than ever that this was the man he brought the creeper to. This was the man he owed his life to.
Scars eyes gleamed as he moved the sandstone wall back into place, shuffling over to a nearby crafting bench. Digging through his bag, he threw some wood onto the crafting table in a sort’ve circl-ey shape, putting the diamond in the middle.
He pulled back, holding a freshly crafted jukebox. Of all the things he could’ve spent his diamonds on. A bloody jukebox. Hey, at least he didn’t make a diamond hoe. Although with Grian’s luck, he might’ve just jinxed that into existence through the pure thought and dread of such a thing.
Scar waltzed back outside with the jukebox in hand, catching Grian’s sleeve as he went, dragging Grian back out with him. Okay, the manhandling was a bit much at this point, let’s be real. Honestly. Did the man really need physical touch this much? It was a little excessive, Grian thought quietly.
Resting the jukebox agaist the side of the wall, Scar gently slid the music disc into the slot. If only he were that gentle with everything else. His eyes gleamed with the first few notes, and Grian distantly recognised the tune as well.
Mellohi. He didn’t really remember it from any place in particular. Perhaps a past life. His memories had always been a bit shoddy.
Scar stood up, resting his hand on Grian’s shoulder, gently moving him back a little. He let them into a more open area in front of the house. The stars twinkled above them approvingly.
His hand on Grian’s shoulder gently slid down to the small of his back. It was calloused, Grian noticed. Scar’s hand.
“What are you doing?” Grian asked quietly, as Scar took Grian’s hand and placed it on his shoulder before darting back to grab the other one.
“Dancing,” Scars smile was bright, and brilliant, and his eyes were shining. He had the ability to kill Grian where he stood. “Will you dance with me?”
Hesitantly, Grian nodded. He glanced down, watching his feet, directing them to follow Scar’s. He knew this song in another lifetime, he reminded himself. Hopefully after fumbling around enough, some sort of muscle memory would kick in.
Scars thumb gently brushed over Grian’s knuckles, which immediately relaxed against the touch. Grian flushed a little, he hadn’t realised he’d been squeezing Scar’s hand quite so tightly.
“Relax, G.” He whispered, voice smooth as velvet. “No one is here but us.”
Grian melted a little, the music beginning to flow over him and guide his steps.
“I don’t know about that. The stars feel judgemental.” Grian murmured back, feeling a smile tug at the corners of his lips.
“The stars can go fuck themselves.” Scars grin was lopsided and a little wonky. It sent shivers down Grian’s spine.
And together they spun, little wisps of sand that they kicked up getting carried away with the wind.
And the stars winked down as They Watched from on high, ever a silent audience. They watched as their champions weaved intricate tales that would embed themselves in time itself. They watched as Their victors mourned their fallen comrades, and wrote ballads of joy and loss, hurt and comfort.
As they wrote tiny stories, meant just for them. Witnessed by the stars.