Work Text:
thrills is. was never. is. was. is a scientist.
they study the sculk.
souls?
sculk.
was ?
no, no, they still are.
[day 23]
the sculk is spreading
is it?
it isn’t
[day 17]
has it been a month already?
no, that’s not right.
[Entry No.7]
the warden.
is what they’re calling it now.
aren’t wardens guards, of a sort?
what is it protecting?
what is it protecting them from ?
more research.
there is a slightly ripped paper on their desk.
what’s it say?
nothing
everything
the fabric of reality is being bent as we speak.
(or is it?)
(who is speaking?)
(talk.)
(you must talk.)
thrills is a scientist.
they have been, their whole life.
why does the title feel wrong now?
what’s going on?
what’s happening?
they watch their family, friends, team, fellow scientists (?) sink beneath the sculk (?)
they didn’t come back.
where did they go after that?
what happened?
are scientists still scientists if they no longer exist?
do they still exist?
matter cannot be created, or destroyed.
they must be out there somewhere.
rotting? decaying?
no, they must be alive. they have to be alive.
thrills sits. and waits. and waits and waits and waits. how long has it been? their watch has broken, gears no longer turning. it’s been so long. the sculk veins are spreading.
sometimes they wished they were part of the experimental group and not just a documentarian. sometimes they wish they could be taken by the sculk. is that selfish?
thrills misses them already.
their lips are dry and cracked and they don’t remember the last time they ate something. they keep waiting. what are they waiting for? thrills hasn’t slept in days, but who’s counting?
meromictic [lake]: a [lake] whose waters barely mix. barely circulate.
is the sculk [like a] meromictic [lake]?
it’s more of a gooey substance,
like slime,
but overall, solid. solids cannot mix.
it’s simply not possible.
meromictic lakes have little to no oxygen at the bottom. dead matter decays slowly. it could be down there for years and show little signs of decay.
hey,
what are you talking about?
they’re not dead
there is no decay
even if they are, thrills is indifferent to death! they’ve witnessed it a thousand times over, why’s this any different?
maybe because they care.
thrills is wasting away.
they realize numbly one day night moment.
the thought doesn’t surprise them
after all,
what good is living
if there’s no one to live with?
they’re useful useless.
useless, useless, useless.
they have all the time in the world now, why not do some more research?
it’s not like they can do anything else.
except watch
and wait
and observe.
maybe
maybe if they try hard enough
try to replicate the experiment
they can also sink through the ground?
and find their team?
this is their only motive.
they don’t know what to do if it leads them nowhere.
the sound of scribbling is all that fills the cold empty cave air. thrills is writing.
the independent variable can be… amount of sculk. amount of sculk placed through their RIBCAGE. THEIR BRAIN. THEIR HEART THEIR SOUL IT’S ALL SCULK SCULK SCULK-
the… dependent variable can be themselves. thrills. impact of sculk on their body.
hypothesis? the more sculk they add to themselves (through means one way or another), the more… the infection may spread.
now they just need to find a willing volunteer.
(consequences? who cares about that? thrills. they do. )
thrills used to like being a scientist.
now it just seems like a curse.
oh, where did they go wrong?
[day 34]
any progress?
no.
they spend day and night, twenty-four-seven, looking through books.
pages upon pages of notes they themselves wrote, before everything had gone to hell.
(heh. quite literally. that’s another hypothesis, did they simply go to the underworld? the void? the warden sinks, right? but it sinks to where?)
thrills hasn’t talked to anyone in thirty-four days. hasn’t laughed for more.
it was only a matter of time before the sculk took over their village.
by then, everyone was gone.
except them.
really, thrills thinks, it’s a relief. a lie? they quite enjoy researching the sculk in silence, without so many worried looks over their shoulders. they sort of miss talking. they tried once, but their voice cracked so bad from disuse that they never did again. thrills doesn’t remember what they sound like.
it was only a matter of time before they were forced to evacuate. the combination of sculk-infested air and the now violent wardens were a match made in hell a cave (heh) and, it’s a shame. thrills used to enjoy the wardens roaming around for company, before they started shredding their work.
sometimes, thrills
forgets
to breathe.
how hard is it to forget a basic human function?
surprisingly easy.
thrills has things to pack up, they can’t afford being distracted! they can’t afford to lose a single page of these notes, everything is valuable if they want to get their family back.
they take a singular echo shard. they name it memento; home. it is stored safely, wrapped in multiple layers of cloth and shoved into the deepest compartment of their backpack.
(later, thrills places it in their tower, high above the ground where open windows shine sunlight on it. the shard glitters. it reminds them of amethyst crystals. sculk veins creeping over the purple gems- they hold their amethyst crown. watch it sparkle.)
what’s the surface like?
they never knew, before.
well, now they do.
it’s bright and hurts their eyes, but it’s new.
so many things for a scientist to study!
a scientist.
thrills isn’t sure if they deserve the title of scientist.
not after they lost them.
what sort of scientist abandons the last remains of their team in a cave?
they deserve better than thrills.
-
blink
bucket is filled with sculk.
this is their fault.
the sculk has taken so many people they know
thrills tries to fix them, really, they do!
when bucket is declared dead
they wonder if it is
their
fault
(it probably is.)
blink
the sculk tree under town hall is spreading.
it’s covered most of the building, original structure barely noticeable.
this is their fault.
blink
thrills is jumping off a tower. the cold-cold-cold grasp of lady death beckons them with open arms as they wake up in the bed, and jump off again.
the sculk clicks quietly as green-gold-white orbs of experience (what they like to call it. thrills likes to think it’s almost magic.) sink into the ground and it spreads, sculk vines creeping over the aged copper. a cow dies. thrills can’t bring it in themselves to feel sorry for it.
thrills starts finding sculk in their hair. must be because it’s dead already. at least they look cool. who are they trying to fool?
blink
morb is cutting their chest open.
it’s horribly bloody. it stains the walls, their face, their clothes. days after the vivisection, bloodstains still soak the floor in dried patches of brown and red. days after the vivisection, thrills has a strange scent of rust following them. when they throw on a pumpkin and another layer, no one questions them.
thrills can remember someone telling the group… something about exposing their hearts to the sculk. the idea was quickly shut down, but thrills remembers the irony of this whole situation.
a totem pops in a flurry of gold and green. it’s bright and colorful, unlike the sculk-sculk-sculk that keeps on surrounding them, won’t leave them alone.
this is their doing.
blink
they’re rotting.
thrills doesn’t remember hearing their own heartbeat, even though they can hear
every
single
footstep.
what’s a heartbeat, again?
they can hear vibrations from their lab underground. from so far away. it’s driving them insane. a scientist needs to focus.
this is their fault.
blink
thrills is trading sculk clothing for skin.
highly unethical, yes, but a scientist has to sacrifice things.
this is their fault.
what time is it?
what day is
it?
they can’t remember.
nothing is working
they’re useless again.
was anything ever worth it?
it has to be.
everything they did-
it was for science.
right?