Work Text:
[Tangotek joined the game]
Zedaph hastily put down the trophy he’d been inspecting, the engraving still wasn’t quite right. Was it the sheep? The lead? He’d figure it out soon. Scrambling for his communicator deep within the pockets of his jeans, he hastily typed a message.
[Zedaphplays]: Tango! How’d the game go?
He knew rationally that the answer would be anything but positive, given that his boyfriend had been the first member of the server to rejoin after Grian’s latest death game.
Zedaph had been asked if he’d wanted to join, the whole server had. But he hadn’t even considered it for a moment. Not only was he rubbish at PVP, (usually coming last whenever he, Tango and Impulse got together with Skizz for their annual Olympics tournament) but also because he felt privately that the entire idea seemed a little sadistic, if not downright dangerous.
He’d expected Tango and Impulse to agree, rational as they were, yet, had been greeted with the sinking feeling of disappointment as the pair excitedly revealed their signing of the contract. Which reminded him! Was the third reason why Zedaph hadn’t put his name down, the contract for the series was binding. Grian had sworn it was all ‘fun and games,’ but the idea of being unable to back out, of being under the Avian’s complete control just hadn’t sat right with him. Not that he didn’t trust his friend; they’d had great fun in the past! Their memorable base swap in season seven still made him smile, and their recent excursion of Shucker-wrestling had been hilarious.
But, all the same, the idea of holding his hand steady as he pointed a blade at either of his best friends, of cutting them down, watching them bleed out- it was enough to reduce him to nausea.
Not to mention the far more likely result, him knelt at their mercy.
The image of Tango standing over him. Beautiful as always, red eyes shining victorious in the dark- It was nothing short of a nightmare. Zedaph had no idea how he’d ever recover from something like that. And so, when his friends had returned from Third Life, unscarred and unbothered it had completely dumbfounded him. How could they not care?
He’d tried to ask, to enquire but the general mood surrounding their week away always seemed to imply that it was best not to question. That the bloodshed, betrayal and bones broken were all things of the past. Forgettable. And hey, who was he to judge? But all the same, it was a mindset the sheep hybrid would never be able to adapt to. He just didn’t have it in him.
Realising he’d lost a good chunk of time to pondering, Zedaph re-opened his communicator, expecting a response from Tango. Other hermits had welcomed him back too, Xisuma, Doc and False all posting similar, cheery responses. But- nothing, radio silence.
Private Chat
[Zedaphplays]: Tangoo? You there?
It was strange but certainly not unheard of, the lack of responses.
Tango had noticeably been ignoring his comms more and more in light of recent events. The work he was putting into Decked Out 2 was admirable, yet destructive. Some days it was a mission to get him to eat breakfast or drink water and Zedaph hated it. He hated what the project was doing to the Blazeborn, stifling his flame which usually burnt so bright.
And he’d been endlessly torn on what to do about it for months. Decked Out made Tango so happy. But the rate at which he was working on it, the unhealthy spiral it was sending him down, completely overwhelmed that joy. Or at least- Zedaph felt so. And he hadn’t said anything, he’d kept his silence. Gritted his teeth as Tango blew off hangout after hangout to work on the Citadel but he had to draw the line at some point. And that was now. He deserved a break before throwing himself back into work!
[Zedaphplays]: I’m coming over.
Equipping his elytra, Zed shuffled uncomfortably as it rubbed against the wool on the back of his neck. Setting off was easy, maintaining his momentum less so. He’d never been a fan of flying - the sheep within him much preferring the safe feeling that the push of solid land against his feet invoked. Yet, the wings were fashionable, the entire server used them, and he couldn’t deny that they were effective.
As he approached the frozen Citadel, its gargantuan spikes blocking the boundary of the horizon, Zedaph was struck with the abrupt feeling of something being very wrong. Over time, Tango's base had seemed to grow slightly sentient. (Or, at least he thought so, nobody ever believed him). And as much as he loathed its cold, empty interior, one thing was true, the building was oddly in touch with its maker and his emotions. When he was happy, it was warm and cosy - or as cosy as such a large, drafty structure ever could be. And when he was sad, it grew colder, and right now- Zedaph had never experienced the Citadel this icy. It was unnerving.
Landing, he called out for his partner.
“Tango! My good friend, it’s me! Are you here?”
He knew the answer. The lack of reply only worsened his feeling of dread. Sheep ears pressed flat against his head, Zedaph approached the huge entrance. There was still nothing. No sound, no noise, just the visceral feeling of wrong.
He beelined straight for Tango’s bedroom. Something he’d insisted the man build to hopefully provide at least a small portion of the rest he required. It was a pitiful excuse for one, but at least it existed. It was the small victories sometimes.
His heart faltered when he saw a tuft of ginger hair.
Tango, his Tango was curled up against the stone wall, legs tucked up and arms folded in on himself. His red jumper was particularly prevalent. It had been- goodness, it had been so long since Zedaph had seen his friend in red.
Red meant Tango was wearing his usual skin. Not the stupid dungeon master cloak which he’d grown to despise over time. (Not only did he hate how it hid Tango away, but he loathed the magic woven into it). It had infested Tango, turning his glowing, fiery, eyes and hair blue.
Blue was cold and detached, an oyster in an ecosystem. Red was beautiful, bright and energetic.
Red was Tango.
“Thank God, you’re okay.”
He raced to the man’s side, grappling for his hands, holding them gently.
“Hey, hey, Tangs it’s me, okay? Are you alright?”
Tango didn’t answer, his gaze was fixated on something clutched in his right hand. It was broken and twisted, crushed by the force of his grip.
Zed looked down, it was a- canary feather?
He tried to take it from Tango, the poor thing having gone through enough, but the man’s body shook impulsively and he let out an inhuman snarl at the attempt, bearing his pointed teeth at the sheep hybrid.
“Woah, okay, I’m sorry, I’m sorry! Here,”
He let go of the feather. Instead opting to trace small circles on the palm of Tango’s unoccupied left hand, pressing into the flesh.
It took a bit more ushering, but Zed eventually lured Tango back, out of his trace, his darling’s red eyes finally meeting Zedaph’s, who smiled gently at him, trying his hardest to radiate calmness when inside he was panicking more than he ever had before.
He’d leisurely dealt with six malfunctioning machines and a small fire at once before, but the sight of Tango in distress was seemingly enough to send his system into overdrive - a million thoughts racing and overtaking each other within his head.
“I'm going to pick you up, alright?” He asked tentatively. “-We’re gonna go to my base, it’s warmer there.”
Tango nodded mutely, his pupils had shrunk, making him look cat-like and skittish. And so, as carefully as he could, Zedaph bundled the Blazeborn up into his arms and took off.
Now, if flying had been difficult before, it was nothing compared to now with the added weight. But determination mixed with luck managed to get them through unscathed.
He’d noticed Tango was slightly cold before when he’d taken his hands. But now, with the man’s form so close to his, Zed realised just how true this was.
Nothing life-threatening of course... But- certainly a change caused by a bad respawn or severe emotional stress. Both of which were rarely a good thing, so he still had cause to worry.
Impulse would be so proud. And yes! He’d read up on Tango’s species okay? What sort of scientist would he be otherwise?
-
Eight blankets and two cups of hot chocolate later, Tango was sprawled haphazardly over Zedaph’s legs, curled into him in a way that really was quite sweet, although he’d never admit it out loud. His hand was gently carding through Tango’s hair, it had fallen out of its ponytail at some point and now rested freely above his shoulders.
“Grian paired us up.”
“Pardon?”
He’d honestly started drifting off. The warm silence and the comforting presence of his favourite person had suddenly made him remarkably sleepy.
“Grian - he gave us soulmates.” Tango clarified.
“Soulmates?”
“Yeah, Impulse was with Bdubs and Etho was with Joel. Not sure if you know Joel- nice guy, slightly psychotic but once you get to know him-“
“Tango.”
“Right yes, so- the idea was that whoever you were ‘tied’ to you’d share damage and everything. And I- It felt like, the bond sort of amplified your feelings for your soulmate if that makes sense?”
It didn’t.
“Right… so, who were you paired with?”
Tango froze and Zed’s hand stopped moving through his hair.
“Tangs?”
“He’s called Jim- Jimmy. And- Oh god Zed! He was just so, so lovely. The others were all horrible to him, it was honestly really surprising. It was like he just didn’t matter.”
He chuckled sadly to himself.
“They told me he was cursed, you know? Because he always died first, it was stupid. He was brilliant. And we had a ranch! We-“
Tango trailed off, unshed tears gleaming in his eyes. Zedaph watched him struggle, stunned. He didn’t know how to respond, so he said nothing. Letting Tango continue as he felt comfortable.
“He was everything to me in that game. And the stupid part was I’d only just met him! Sure I’d heard about the ‘useless’ avian who everyone mocked but I’d never properly spoken to him. And this bond- I swear it did something to me Zed! It messed with my fucking head, I swear! Because the second I laid eyes on him I just knew he was mine and it was my responsibility to protect him.”
Tango paused for breath, “Christ!” He exclaimed,
“He bought me back animals and looked so surprised when I was happy about it. It was like he’d never had a kind word spoken to him before.”
Zedaph felt like he was going to explode, the storm of emotions he was feeling could hardly be formed as words, he wanted to comfort Tango, to reassure him, and yet…
“Do you love him?”
Tango stiffened under Zed’s hand in his hair.
“No.” He answered.
“No, I don’t. Not like I love you. I could never feel the same way about somebody else, I hope you know that. It was- different, it’s impossible to explain but I need you to understand, Zed, our souls were tied together.”
Oh.
“There’s a small part of me that feels extorted, y’know? Like I had emotions added to my code that weren’t my own. But I know now that I was always going to become friends with him, always. He’s brilliant, really! Stupidly smart and crazy loyal. And-“
A loud gulp signified that Tango was struggling through tears in order to continue.
Quickly, Zedaph cupped his face and wiped the water away before it had the chance to fall.
Contact with any liquid other than lava burned Tango, leaving horrendous scars and malformations. The sizzling of water hitting his skin was a noise that Zed would never forget. He still dreamt fitfully about the time his boyfriend had fallen into the Lake of Life, back in Season Five. When they were younger and stupider.
Tango hadn’t woken up for days, and Zed had driven himself mad at his bedside. It was something he’d do anything to avoid a repeat of.
Apparently steeling himself, Tango carried on,
“He died alone. Zed, alone.”
“I failed.” He spat those final words like a curse.
And the ‘storm’ of emotions inside Zedaph cooled and condensed into one, tangible, identifiable, feeling.
Rage.
“An Enderman took him by the neck and- and squoze the life out of him and I wasn’t there. I was too busy doing absolutely nothing of value. We were out first again. And his ‘curse,’ the one everyone spoke about, he believes in it too. He agrees, he thinks he’s broken, useless. And I solidified that view for him. I let him die!”
Oh, he was going to kill Grian.
“Tango,” Zedaph said stonily.
“I want you to listen to me carefully. Okay?” He waited for confirmation,
“It was not your fault that Jimmy died.”
Tango tried to interrupt but Zed hushed him softly.
“There was nothing you could have done to stop what happened. And I will sit here, and make you hot chocolate, and play with your hair until you believe that. Or at least open yourself up to the possibility of it. Yeah?”
Tango nodded, burying himself impossibly deeper into the blanket pile.
“You were used and controlled. Grian and his code placed a made-up, fabricated responsibility onto your shoulders and the impacts of it have evidently followed you back onto Hermitcraft.”
He tightened his grip around the shorter man.
“I was personally promised by him that what ‘happens in the life series’ as he put it, would ‘stay in the life series,’ but he’s clearly broken that promise.” He paused for breath,
“And I don’t care if it was unintentional. I refuse to support his mad games if they are forcing you to risk not only your body but your mind too. And for what?” He laughed joylessly.
”-A fruitless victory and a week of paranoia?! None of the hermits deserve that, and I'm angry for each and every one of them. But especially you, Tango, because you’re the one who matters most to me on this server, and I hate what he’s done to you.”
Tango gaped at him, he opened his mouth, then shut it again.
He looked pensive for a while but eventually nodded, it seemed like Zedaph’s rant had overwhelmed him somewhat, not that that was all that surprising. Zed couldn’t remember the last time he’d been properly angry.
Probably when Xisuma had banished his- no, Worm Man’s friend sidekick into the void.
Much later, after Tango finally fell asleep, Zed managed to wiggle his way out of the Blazeborne’s clutches in order to stand up.
By this point, many other hermits had returned, but he refused to let himself become sidetracked. Right now, the sheep hybrid had one concise goal in mind. And it was that goal that he left his base with the intention of completion.
He was going to find Grian.
And they were going to have a lovely chat.