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He was dead. He had to be, the weightless feeling of his body feeling all too familiar. Waving a single hand about in the glowing white, empty space above him, he knew it. But it was different this time.
Nobody on this island had to be as intimately familiar with death and respawn than Slime, seeing how many times he’s been murdered, fell, drowned, or otherwise perished in one way or another. Being flung into the void, disoriented, waiting minutes that felt like decades as scenes of his pitiful existence flashed in the miasma that was his mind.
And in no time at all he’d respawn, fresh and new but yet still tainted, still the same messed-up, ruined, family-destroying slime he always was. Depressing, he knew, but what else could really sum up his life after coming to this godforsaken island? He wasn’t known for anything else.
So what was different this time?
He blinked and let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, something not common when stuck in respawn-limbo. He’d be here, then gone in a flash as his body quickly regenerated with no time to think. But that wasn’t happening this time. Slime wondered, more clearly than he should be able, if this was just an exceptionally long period of it and he just had to be patient.
He waited. Laying flat, he waited, unmoving, letting his body rest atop the almost cloud-like material of the floor he laid upon. He attempted sitting up once, but got way too dizzy and disoriented, so he resigned to his fate of staring up above him, the white haze of this odd landscape creeping around his peripheral vision. He tried not to think about the fact that he currently had the capacity for thought.
After what felt like ages, he let out a huff of irritation. What was taking so fucking long? He should’ve been back… somewhere by now. It was bizarre.
He tried thinking about what had caused his death this time, but it hurt his head too much to think about, especially when he tried to concentrate on where he’d been when it happened. This wasn’t typical and he was finally starting to freak out a little bit.
Less dizzy than before he wobbles to his feet, rubbing his arms and feeling… feeling?
He felt his arms despite the weightlessness in them, and he could actually feel the slime of his arms. It had been months since the code infection had first appeared on him and spread further, numbing his hands, his shoulders, and nearly his entire body once Purgatory had begun. Slime had gotten so used to the feeling of nothing that the feeling of something nearly shocked him to death. That was, if he weren’t dead already.
He blinks in disbelief at his hands. They’re normal, clean of dirt, grime, and any sign of the code infection. It doesn’t feel right to see himself so unmarred, and he looks down at himself to see a clean white shirt and shorts with three hearts stitched onto the front. More and more signs are pointing to the fact that this is not the respawn waiting room, clearly, because whoever ran the damn thing never cared enough to give him clean clothes while he waited to be thrown back into life’s woes.
The persistent, inevitable truth of his situation was sitting in the back of his mind like an anchor. Shaking his head, he starts walking in a random direction, hoping for some kind of exit to appear.
No time to think about the fact that he actually looks like himself now, that he can feel and touch and breathe without the weight of the code within him. It would be freeing, if his lungs weren’t now starting to constrict with panic.
“What is happening?” He whispers into the white void, looking up into the sky now appearing before him. The white fog on the horizon hadn’t subsided, but a beautiful blue sky with fluffy white clouds now took up residence where nothing but a pure, blinding white ceiling once was.
Slime would stop to appreciate seeing the sky again if he wasn’t currently on an anxiety-driven mission, a mission to get back down to wherever he was before this. Something important, something desperately important was waiting for him down there, but he couldn’t even remember what that was. Yep, he was hyperventilating now, something that should not be possible here.
Stopping short, he sits himself down and halts what has become just pacing in circles instead of going in any meaningful direction.
He tries to take steadying breaths, clenching his arms as he curls into himself and pushes his legs up to his chest. It was a grounding technique he learned from a friend a long time ago now, something he’s glad to remember in this place with his memories so scattershot. He had stopped being able to do it, after the pins and needles of his infection took over. But he could do it here.
Slime closes his eyes, the brightness of this place getting to him. It wasn’t bad, but it was just enough to irritate him.
“What am I supposed to do?” He says to nobody. He rubs the bottom of his palms into his temples, feeling the weight of his own hands as he tries to will away the headache he just acquired. He gets frustrated at it, at the dull throb making itself known to him as it grows in intensity.
“I wish- fuck, I wish this headache would just leave me alone.” The irritation of it suddenly ceases, as if just by asking it it suddenly decided it would comply. Blinking rapidly, he tries to take in the fact that he just willed a headache away. Fuck Tylenol, this rules.
He definitely couldn’t deny his situation now, though. Clean and healthy, able to wish for pain to go away and it just- does. Being in a place he’d seen flashing in his vision between deaths, but with no sign of revival- there was no doubt about it.
He was dead . For good.
“Shit. Shit, shit shit.”
This wasn’t great. Not even adequate. This was really, really bad.
He’s begun pacing once more, springing to his feet as the feeling of panic fills his mind once again. Was this it? Was this all there would be for him? An empty nonexistence with nobody but himself to keep him company? This was worse than hell. Worse than any kind of purgatory. At least when he had to go through that he wasn’t alone.
Being stuck here, in an endless plane of clouds and sky with nothing, no comfort, alone with his thoughts… he had to get out of here, genuinely. Screw whatever important thing was gnawing at him that he couldn’t remember, this was now the priority. This is why he had to escape death.
At least the pain of living wouldn’t be as bad as the loneliness of death.
“Is anyone there?! Can I leave? Uh- I wish to leave! I want to go back!” He cries, running around and flailing his arms in a vain attempt to get anyone, anything’s attention to his plight. “I can’t be dead! I can’t be alone! Please, I can’t be alone!”
The more he runs, the more the white fog dissipates. He’s breathing faster, but not because of any exertion. He feels no tiredness, no exhaustion as he keeps going. He keeps on going until finally, he feels as though he has nowhere else to go.
He’s standing in a clear scene, free of the all-consuming void of white light. The blue sky stretches all around him, reflected in the glassy floor he’s now standing on. It makes it feel like he’s flying, almost, but it’s obvious he’s just standing on mirrored ground even without the ability to see his own reflection in it. He feels hopeless despite the ethereal, disorienting beauty of this place.
Despite it all, Slime keeps walking as he always does. And something comes into view. A grassy hill, the first genuine spark of life he’d seen since dying. A tree sits at the top of it, leaves waving lazily due to a nonexistent breeze. He trudges up it, feeling the grass against his feet. It feels warm, even with no sign of a visible sun in the sky to make it so.
Slime places a hand against the wood of the tree, enjoying the texture of it. Something he hadn’t ever thought he would like, but he supposed losing feeling in his extremities does that to a guy. Makes you appreciate the little things. He calms down as he stares at the tree, taking in how it adds to this barren landscape.
His vision is clearer now than it was and he gets an even better look at his arms. They weren’t as clear of imperfections as he thought, scars of the code still evident even if to someone else they wouldn’t be. But he can see it, and it makes him frown to himself as he goes to lay against the tree.
He’s silent, thinking before speaking. Another thing in the growing list of stuff not familiar to him, har har.
“I don’t… I don’t want to be alone.” Slime whispers.
He didn’t expect his wish to come true. It wasn’t really a wish, or a simple ask, but more of a plea, a hope for some kind of mercy. For the universe to finally smile upon him for once and free him from this prison of isolation. Hell, he’d even take seeing Bad again. Actually, that might be a wish he should keep to himself.
Nothing happens, and he isn’t surprised. He asks for a glass of water, and it appears by his side next to his hand on the grass. He asks for a blanket, why not, and sure enough a fluffy, clean one appears on his other side. Slime guesses he can’t wish for people, but tries anyway.
“Could I like… have my family?” He prods at whatever benevolent being runs the joint, innocent in his request. Feeling his heart lift, he’s prepared to spring up and run into the arms of his wife and daughter, but no luck. No voices are heard, no familiar presence, nothing. Just himself, this tree alone on its hill, and the infinite sky stretching high above.
Slime isn’t thirsty, but he drinks from the glass anyway. He closes his eyes, breathing in and out in even breaths as he drains it, appreciating its coolness. The perfect temperature for him, in both drink and the general atmosphere of this whole place. Nothing is unpleasant here, at least not physically. But maybe that wasn’t entirely true, either.
The more he sits, the more he feels. The more he feels, the more he remembers what it was like to be touched by another. And then when he thinks about that, he thinks about one person, and the longing expands the void in his heart.
Typically, thinking about Mariana would make Slime embarrassed, or angry, or maybe even happy on a better day. But it just made him sad now.
So much he had left to say to him, so much time they could have spent making more good memories than reliving awful ones. So many opportunities they should have taken, so many more conversations they should have had. But thinking back on it, they had no time at all. He just wished they did.
Thinking about Mariana then made him think of Juanaflippa, his precious daughter. He gazed about the empty landscape, wondering if maybe if he was dead, she would be here somewhere too. Maybe if he couldn’t see Mariana, he could at least see… her again.
But how? It didn’t seem like he could just walk and bump into her, seeing as there wasn’t anyone but him for what seemed like miles. He couldn’t wish anyone into existence, he’d already tried that avenue. But maybe he could try and find another way, or figure out some kind of loophole. Worth a shot.
“I want to go to where Juanaflippa is.” He says, closing his eyes and hoping to get transported to her. Slime waits for something to happen, and when nothing does he looks around in disappointment. “Okay…”
“I want to… go to my house?”
His eggxile home appears a distance away from the hill, looking the same as it always did. He wondered if, at the very least, the version of Juanaflippa he knew would be in there. He knew it wasn’t really her but… it was close enough to the real thing. Maybe this place understands that.
Slime stands up and jogs over, being careful not to slip down the hill. He reaches for the handle and opens the door revealing his unusually well-lit home. Typically it’s dark, but the light of this entire place leaked through the singular window and cracks within the wooden walls, filling the shack with an aura of calmness he isn’t sure it ever had. The basement is also quite barren, no sign of any kind of life within its walls as he descends the ladder and looks around.
Confirming the lack of any type of Juanaflippa, he leaves the house with a heavy heart and tries thinking of some other options.
He wishes for a few different things, and in turn receives a plush that looks like Juanaflippa, the first house that he’d made with Mariana, Mariana’s own house complete with Juanaflippa’s statue, and the kovan flower his daughter had given him among many other things.
He’s distraught now, sitting alone on the ground as the places and objects of all his pain and sorrow and bittersweet happiness surround him, taunting him with their existence. Their emptiness speaks volume to his own feelings about the situation and he wishes he had the capacity to throw up or cry or something, but he isn’t sure it’s possible in this weird version of hell. This certainly couldn’t be heaven.
Slime once more finds himself curled into a ball, trying not to freak out more than he already had. He always thinks how he should be used to the constant breakdowns by this point, but the thought of that doesn’t make him feel any better. He rocks back and forth, grounding himself in any way possible.
It takes a while for him to fully calm down (again), and he sighs long and hard once he’s come to. Blinking slowly, he looks at all the displaced buildings around him, all taken from his life. It’s so strange seeing them all in such close proximity, and while he gets over the initial flood of bad memories seeing each building, he tries to remember the good parts too.
He goes to the first home he had on the island, the one he had first made with his family. It featured the section of the wall it was built into, but not much else besides, like it had been carved out of its environment and dropped here.
He climbed its steps, no longer destroyed and weathered but looking practically brand-new. No evidence of his rampage or time had affected the house, and he opened the door to see it looking like it had all those months ago. The sight made his heart swell, but it also hurt to think of how perfect it all was then. Before everything.
Slime walks the length of the house, which isn’t very much. He runs a hand along the wood and stone walls, opens chests and looks at the items within with a hollow feeling. The light of flickering torches bathes everything in a warm light combined with the cool aura of the outside landscape, giving the entire house a strange vibe.
Scratching the back of his head, he hesitantly decides to open the door to Juanaflippa’s little room. He has to squeeze through the makeshift hallway, not quite remembering how small it was until now.
He almost wants to sob seeing her room in such good condition, but he’s tired. Too tired to feel anything at this point other than an immense feeling of loss. The empty room stands as a testament to all his sins, all his failings. Pictures of her and Mariana and himself line the walls, perfectly framed and placed. Their faces are happy in some, despondent in others. He collapses to his knees and buries his hands in his face.
Dreams and visions of what could have been echo in his mind and swim behind his closed eyelids. How many times must he do this, how many times must he hope and pray for anything more? How can he think he deserves any more chances, how can he think of ever going back? He’s dead, and he can’t hurt anyone anymore. No more bad memories to make, only ones to relive.
Maybe he was blinded by nostalgia, blinded by the fact that his present is so much worse than his beginning. Maybe none of it had ever been good, and it was a lie to comfort himself at the expense of his family. Was Juanaflippa ever truly happy, and did Mariana ever truly love him? None of this would have happened if both were true.
“This is why I’m here, isn’t it.” Slime says with a heaviness he had only felt, but never uttered. “I’m here to pay for what I’ve done.”
“No...”
Slime jerks his head up so fast he could swear it almost falls off, and he whips around, looking for the source of the voice.
A ghost of a hand whisks across his shoulders and makes him shiver, and once again he frantically turns around to no avail. Just him, the room, and the many photographs on the walls are his company. Surely he isn’t imagining things, right?
He gets out of the room as quickly as possible, desperate to escape whatever new things are haunting him now. He makes his way back to his eggxile home, craving the familiarity. He hated to admit how much it had become his escape, how it became more of a home than any house he’d ever stayed in.
Collapsing onto the pitiful pile of rags and blankets piled in the basement, he doesn’t try to wish for any better ones. Maybe this place can at least let him sleep. He silently wishes for it, and surely enough he feels his eyelids slowly close shut, grateful for the reprieve.
When he wakes up, he feels no different. He doesn't feel hungry, thirsty, anything. Something to get used to, he thinks with a short exhale.
He does feel different in his mood. More… at ease. Not fully accepting of his situation, god no, but at the very least he isn’t on the verge of another mental breakdown just yet. So that’s an improvement.
But he’s still just as sad as he was before. Knowing that it’ll just be him for… forever. His mind wanders back to his friends and family, hoping that if they’re all still alive that they’re happy. That’s the most he can wish for at this point. He mentally thinks it and hopes it comes true even if it doesn’t make any logical sense within the rules of this place, within the rules he can understand.
Slime decides to pay a visit to Mariana’s house after having avoided going in until now. Climbing out of his pile of blankets like a nest, he climbs his ladder and exits his home. The sky has changed, the color of it more like a sunrise now. Still, no matter which way he looks, no sun is visible. The light comes from everywhere and nowhere all at once.
Not thinking about the oddness of that factoid he marches over to Mariana’s house, standing next to Juanaflippa’s statue. Whispering to the ground, he wills some flowers into existence and places them at the pedestal before continuing his pursuit of the door to Mariana’s place. It didn’t feel right to see her statue here devoid of flowers.
Like everything else, Mariana’s house is neat and tidy and clean, not a single thing out of place. Cool light filters through the many windows, leaving very little shadow.
He takes no time observing the details of the place, instead stomping upstairs and towards the bed on the other side of the staircase. To think he could have lived here, he thinks idly. Going to the closet next to the bed he opens it and grabs what he’s looking for.
Slime knows he could just ask for the thing he wants but he wants some sense of purpose in this place where he could have nearly everything. Being able to walk over and get the thing he wants, tangibly, is worth more to him now than he realized.
He pulls out an eggshell-white cape, long and flowing. It matches his own perfectly white clothing, not a single stain or particle of dirt ruining it. Slime fastens the cape around his neck, dragging the fabric across his nape. It’s a comforting feeling, and to his glee it even smells like Mariana. His surprise at that is quickly wiped away by the longing sensation again.
How long had it been since he’d seen Mariana while he was alive? After Purgatory, it felt like years, when he knew it couldn’t be true. But he nevertheless felt the days stretch far longer than they needed to. They had promised to do better, to do right by each other, to love and be loved. Slime had dreamed of that conversation for months before they had it, and it felt like the world was right for once when they spoke again.
And he wouldn’t ever have that, not in life or death.
The tears never come despite the pain, so he just buries his face in the cape, hoping for some sort of relief. Hoping for a person that will never appear, never again stand before him and smile because of his mere presence.
Slime swallows thickly, letting go of the cape now situated on his shoulders. It feels nice to feel it swish around as he walks, even with the length of it reaching down to his feet. It feels like Mariana is with him.
Another whisper reaches his ear, a trace of warmth. “Slime…” It calls, intimately familiar.
He whips around, nearly tripping on the cape already as he exits the house in a hurry. A finger, small yet painfully noticeable, traces its way up his slimy bicep, making him shiver. Whatever the hell it was was clearly torturing him. Why does this fuck-off place have ghosts? As if it hadn't already given him enough problems.
He storms over to the tree, slightly mad at whatever is clearly messing with him. He’d taunt it right back, but he has no visible target to do so. The aura of it makes him want to bicker with it, sickeningly obvious to him who it must be, who it could be. Could this weird place be aware of his wants, and… project them somehow?
“You’re doing a shitty job.” He finishes out loud, scowling at the horizon. “If you’re gonna mess with my head, might as well try harder.”
“What do you mean, querido?”
Slime jumps out of his skin, almost toppling down the hill. This place is trying to fucking jumpscare him or something at this point, but not before a solid, warm hand steadies him. The feeling of it alone is enough to make him pass out in fright, but not before a very welcome and surprising face greets him.
“Mariana.” Slime gasps out, and Mariana seems to smile.
“I have been looking for you. It was, eh, difficult. You died!” She says with a little too much cheer. “But I found you!”
Mariana is just as beautiful as ever, even more so with the lack of dirt and grime of Purgatory, the last time Slime can remember ever seeing him. He isn’t wearing the godly garb he had on then, but an entirely different outfit he’d never seen her wear before consisting of a plain white shirt and pants not unlike the one’s Slime is also wearing.
Mariana still had his fluffy, cream-colored wings that fluttered as he moved, speckles of gold shimmering between the feathers and reflecting the light that shone from nowhere.
Slime blinked, and blinked again, and blinked a third time for good measure, wondering if this was an apparition or some kind of trick. But no, the more he stares, the more Mariana is still very much there.
“Are you okay? ¿Te golpeaste la cabeza?” He asks gently, closing in on Slime. The warmth grows as he is nearly chest-to-chest with him, looking down. Slime cranes his neck, gulping audibly. Mariana is too pretty up close, and he’s still recovering from the fact that he’s also real, and right in front of him.
“M- How- how are you here?” Slime finally manages to get out with some effort, and Mariana laughs. It’s music to his ears.
“Ahora soy un dios, ¿recuerdas?”
Slime pinches the bridge of his nose. “No, yeah, I knew that. I remember that. But- how did you find me?”
“I could feel your emotions.” Mariana says nonchalantly, like that was the most normal answer she could’ve given.
Slime goes silent for a moment, still soaking in the fact that he’s speaking to someone, to Mariana, right now. He isn’t sure whether to be overjoyed, angry, or feeling nothing at all. Despite the last conversation they had ending on good terms, it couldn’t be helped that he still felt the whirlwind of different emotions now coursing through him. He decides to be happy, putting aside any anger or irritation for a second, because he had after all been practically begging for any kind of companionship this entire time.
“Okay… but that doesn’t really explain how you got here.” Slime says with confusion.
Mariana flaps his wings slightly. “It was not hard for me. Sentí tus emociones en este lugar, dándome cuenta de lo que te pasó. I felt for you. Y cuando te encontré, simplemente volé aquí.” He makes a little motion with his hands to exemplify it.
Slime’s a little surprised he can understand all that without his translator helping, but he chalked it up to whatever magic this place offered. “So…” He begins, unsure of what else to say. Mariana was here, finally here beside him, and despite thinking of him nearly this whole time he felt too awkward to speak. Mariana speaks for him.
“I have missed you.” She echoes what his mind is feeling, ghosting a hand over his arm. Mariana smiles at him, and Slime can feel his face growing a darker shade of green. Mariana reaches both hands out to hold his gooey face, putting a kiss to his forehead. Slime stutters, “I- I missed you too Mari.”
A more comfortable silence grows between them before Mariana gestures at Slime to follow him, leading him back to his house still standing starkly against the heavenly environment. He eventually takes his hand in his, leading him along.
“Me sorprende que quisieras mi casa aquí.” Mariana wonders, leaving Slime a bit more speechless than he was already.
“I- I just- I kept wishing for someone to show up.” Slime mutters, and by the time they’re inside Mariana replies, “And did it come true?”
“I guess it did.” He says with slight astonishment.
Mariana keeps smiling at him, but then it slips into a small frown. “Slime, do you remember… how you died?”
He shakes his head, the two of them walking upstairs. Slime’s cape swishes a bit as he walks, and he tries to wrack his brain again, wondering if maybe now he could remember. But nothing comes to mind, no clear memories of what happened to him. “Uh… no. I don’t. It’s like my memory got all messed up or something.”
Mariana sits on the bed, wings folding in to allow space for Slime to sit next to her. The frown deepens. “Ah. Maybe that is better then.”
Slime feels a matching frown form on his own face, his brows furrowing. “What do you mean? What happened to me?”
He just shakes his head and switches topics. “I like the cape. Suits you.” Mariana says it with a bit of smugness. “Muy guapo.”
He’d feel flustered, but he’s still thinking about what Mariana said. “Seriously, Mariana, what happened? Why can’t I respawn?”
Mariana is silent, and it speaks volumes. But it isn’t enough; he wants an actual answer. Slime’s concern grows as he presses her again, leaning closer to look for something in his eyes, to hopefully draw out whatever it was that worried him. “Please, I have to know.”
She scowls deeply and pushes him back a little, and even just the brief touch has him needing more. Slime blinks at his own feelings before shaking his head and focusing back to the matter at hand. He grips Mariana’s forearm, pleading.
“I can’t tell you. Créeme, solo te haría sentir peor.”
“But why? What happened to me that was so bad I don’t even deserve to know how I died?” Slime cries out, frustration building.
Mariana snaps at him then, wrenching his arm out of the slime’s grip. “You don’t deserve- no! ¡Idiota, mereces no saberlo!”
Slime goes quiet, unsatisfied with the answer but understanding that he won’t be getting any answers. Mariana was as stubborn as he was impulsive, and he was the kind of guy to throw himself into anything. He knew Mariana wouldn’t budge.
He just gives up, laying down on the bed to avoid looking at Mariana anymore. The cape moves around him and he subconsciously wraps himself in it, trying to hide his irritation. Nobody could get him as frustrated this quickly, nobody but his wife.
Mariana just stares at him sadly, scooting up in bed so he’s sitting next to Slime more closely. “I am sorry, mi amor. But it would only hurt you more.”
Slime can’t resist firing back, “What, more than you’ve hurt me?” He doesn’t mean it, he knows that, but there’s some dark part of him that garners satisfaction from the crestfallen look on Mariana’s face.
They say nothing to each other for a minute, remembering the worst moments they’ve shared. The fighting, the accusations, the resentment. Slime wanted all of that to change, but it was too late now that he was dead. He closes his eyes and tries to accept his fate.
“I am sorry for everything, you know.” Mariana whispers. “I want us to start again, remember?”
Slime with eyes still firmly closed, just says in a deadpan tone, “Well, bit too late for that now, huh?”
“Death is not the end.” She replies. “We have a chance now.”
“Without Juanaflippa, there is no chance. We wasted it, wasted every single damn chance this world gave us.”
He feels Mariana shift closer, the warmth of his body almost intoxicating. Slime feels like he’s losing it completely. Is he supposed to be mad, or madly in love?
“I can find a way for you to see her. She misses you.”
Slime bolts upright, nearly colliding his shoulder with Mariana’s jaw as he turns and sits abruptly in the bed. “W- you’ve seen her? You- you talked to her? When? How?”
“Before I found you. I have seen her with the other eggs, and she is happy. Averiguaré cómo llevarte a nuestra hija. Lo prometo.”
The determination in his voice, the way he stares deeply into Slime’s eyes makes him flustered again. She takes his hands in her own, holding them to his chest. “I promise.” He repeats, kissing one of Slime’s knuckles and making him shudder from the contact.
“Okay…” He says timidly. He can’t understand why he’s so nervous all of a sudden, as if he and Mariana weren’t married or anything. Maybe it’s the fact that they hadn’t been this close in so long that’s getting to him. Maybe he missed him more than he realized.
Unsure of where to proceed with the conversation but elated at the idea of seeing his daughter again, he lays back down facing the ceiling. He folds his hands across his chest, staring as Mariana copies his movement. Their arms and shoulders touch as they lay next to each other.
“What do we do now?” Slime questions, looking into the dark brown pools of Mariana’s eyes.
“Anything we want.” Mariana replies simply, the implications too overwhelming. Slime blinks slowly, thinking about it. What does he want, right now, more than anything? Besides seeing his daughter again, of course; but that seems to be something he’d have to wait a bit longer for. Might as well go for something he can get right now.
“I… I’d like to be held, if that’s fine. With you.” He grits out. He’s unsure if he’s ever asked something like that before, at least out loud. Mariana seems surprised but smiles at the request, and it makes Slime’s stomach twist. “Of course.”
Opening his arms, Slime scoots onto his side and they wrap hands and arms around each other. Mariana’s wings adjust to cradle him, and it’s quite comfortable even as the feathers start to stick to his slime skin.
“Sorry.” He mumbles, remembering that his slime can be rather irritating to anyone with wings. Mariana just shrugs and brings him closer.
Becoming a god made Mariana have all kinds of changes physically, one of them being a puff of short, fluffy feathers coating his neck and shoulders. Slime rests his hands on her collarbone, feeling the soft little feathers there and hoping the fact that he’s getting a bit melty isn’t bothersome. Mariana didn’t seem to care, but the thought lingers in Slime as they embrace. It’s nice just being held like this. Like he meant something.
The hands now on him, a comfortably warm weight, make him jolt a little. It’s a feeling he’d been chasing for longer than he’d like to admit.
Ignoring any restraint he buries his face in Mariana’s neck, causing her to make a surprised noise. Mariana’s hands come to the back of his head and holds him there, gently, before moving down his shoulders and back, moving slowly.
Slime’s initial jumpiness at all the contact subsides as they lay in each other's arms. It had been so long, so long since he’d been embraced in this way. Even simple friendly hugs were fleeting after the infection began to consume him, as his own friends grew wary of him.
Tears begin to well in his eyes as he rests his head on her chest, clutching Mariana’s sides as if he’d disappear if he didn’t.
Shocked at the fact that he’s now weeping silently, Slime tries to wipe them away before Mariana notices, but to no avail. “What’s wrong?” He asks gently, and his voice soothes him as he dries his eyes with a hand.
“Nothing… nothing.” Slime lies, and Mariana doesn’t press. Just brings him closer to her, rubbing his back as she does.
He was surprised how willing Mariana was with contact even before the feathers and wings and everything. Most people didn’t appreciate how his slime would sometimes stick, or melt when he was excited or upset. He couldn’t help it, after all he could only appear humanoid; it wasn’t like he could just… make his slime disappear as much as he wished for it.
Being the only full slime on the island was a pain in more ways than one, but the biggest struggle by far was how people just didn’t appreciate the contact even when they were willing to hug him or shake his hand.
The eggs usually didn’t care, but Slime enjoyed giving hugs and physical affection to everyone, and not many people were keen on that idea. He wonders, now that he’s gone for good, if anyone regrets it now. He doubts it.
But Mariana is different. Mariana could care less and didn’t seem at all bothered by how Slime always ran cold or how his body would soften depending on his mood. Even now, with the barrier of feathers to make it harder, Mariana didn’t mind.
Despite all his grievances with his wife, that was definitely one of the things that he always appreciated about him. The fact that he cared enough not to care meant more to him than he could willingly express.
Slime feels his eyes grow heavy as he mentally wishes for sleep, and Mariana notices this and copies him. They lay there, together, as dreamless slumber takes them both.
Waking up first, Slime opens his eyes blearily. It must’ve been more of a nap than hours of sleep and even with the positive effects of limbo he can feel the exhaustion in his body.
Remembering Mariana is still very much here and surrounding him, enveloping his senses, he makes sure not to move even an inch. It wouldn’t do to wake him.
As his eyes clear and he wakes further, he studies the lines of Mariana’s face up close. The freckles scattered across his tanned skin look different too, almost like constellations the more he squints. The same seems to be true for the ones scattered across his shoulders and arms as Slime lowers his gaze briefly before snapping back to his face.
Even in his god form, the lines of worry on his brow and under his eyes remain, softened only by the fact that he’s asleep. Slime’s saddened by the fact that Mariana had to suffer in such similar ways to him and how the evidence presents itself proudly in her expressions, her mannerisms. They’re both fuck-ups and that fact makes itself known often. He feels tempted to rub away the worry-lines, but he hesitates.
He keeps staring, still caught up in all his features, new and old. How long his hair had gotten, how his glasses hadn’t changed even in godhood, how even without the golden light of his halo he still seemed to have a radiant aura about him, how he frowned or scowled even as he slept, his calm expression turning to one of annoyance occasionally.
Slime snickered quietly as he watched Mariana shift around slightly in discomfort and as he did Slime chose to curl up into him even more, sliding his face under the crook of her neck.
The feathers kinda get into his eyes and under his glasses, but if Mariana doesn’t mind him, he won’t mind this. Mariana seems to settle for a couple more minutes before, inevitably, he wakes up as well.
“Ah… Slime?” Mariana mumbles slightly, still tired. “Yeah?” He replies, and he pulls back to look at her better.
Mariana just smiles softly and grabs hold of his hand, like he was just looking for confirmation that he was still here. Slime tries not to think about that. His hand slides up Slime’s forearm as he sits up a little, looking down at Mariana’s sleepy form.
While sitting up, Slime notices a plethora of feathers now coating his skin all stuck in the slime of his body. Mariana blinks with clear amusement on his face. “Parece que te han golpeado las gallinas.” She says with a smirk. Slime just rolls his eyes. “And who’s fault is that, huh?”
“Yours.” Mariana pokes his side with a glimmer of mischief before sitting up as well. “You asked to cuddle.”
Slime blushes and says nothing, unable to dispute that as he watches Mariana stretch and makes his large wingspan more obvious. Slime spits out a couple feathers that somehow managed to get into his mouth, not impressed at all by how many have gone everywhere.
“Dude, how do you- why the hell are there so many ?” He’s picking what feathers he can see off of himself before Mariana takes pity on him and picks some off his back as Slime struggles to reach.
“Alas más grandes, más plumas. Algo así.” She replies with some humor. Slime just shakes his head and once they've completed the task decide to stand and stretch their legs.
Mariana takes his hand in her own and leads him to the balcony, and the two look out into the starry sky. It was nighttime now, with a few clouds still hanging around.
The reflective ground makes it look like their balcony is hanging in the endless inky black of space, floating in a sea of stars. Slime’s eyes widen at the sight of it still a bit in awe of the ethereal beauty of this place. Mariana grins at his expression, letting go of his hand to bring him into a one-armed hug.
Maybe this place wasn’t as bad as he thought. But it still didn’t feel… complete. Their family was a trio missing their third.
“Will I be alone here, when you have to go?”
Slime knew Mariana couldn’t stay. If he had to find a way to bring Juanaflippa here to him, or bring him to her, then surely… he’d have to leave. An aching sorrow all too familiar fills his heart. It wouldn’t be the first time Mariana had left his side.
Mariana seems to pick up on this, his expression faltering. “Well…”
Slime doesn’t need her to finish. He feels like he knows. “Will I… ever see any of my friends again?” He asks, already guessing the answer for that question too. But he just wants confirmation, to prove his feelings and thoughts correct. Mariana was a god so surely he’d know these things.
Mariana answers both. “I will… have to go. But your friends… maybe I can find out. No dejaré que vuelvas a estar solo.” He says hesitantly, choosing her words as carefully as stepping on glass.
Slime wants to hope, to believe. But he’d hoped and believed and prayed for too long to only be met with disappointment, with heartbreak. At times, with deceit. What he wouldn’t give to believe Mariana, but he knows he can’t, not until he sees it all for himself. Not until he knows it will come true.
Mariana is watching him carefully, warm eyes observing him with concern as he tries not to reveal his feelings. He might do something drastic if he completely breaks in front of her, the tears from earlier were enough. But despite his best efforts he knows Mariana can see his internal turmoil with the way she looks at him.
He offers his arms up for a hug which Slime begrudgingly accepts. He allows to be held once again, to settle his head against her solid shoulder, curling up his arms in front of himself.
“I will return to you.” Mariana seems confident in saying it but Slime can’t help the bitterness rising within him.
“You say that…” He starts, not quite able to finish. Mariana holds him close, his voice a low whisper. “Digo esto porque es verdad. He fracasado antes, pero te prometo que nunca volveré a cometer el error de dejarte.”
Slime closes his eyes briefly, frowning slightly. “Then… why did you leave in the first place? I was alone in eggxile, for so long. Did you ever try to look for me?”
He didn’t know why Mariana was gone for so long. Why he disappeared, why he went missing. Mariana pulls him back now visibly upset. “I did leave, yes, and I regret it everyday; but I wanted to come to you! But I could not!”
“Tell me why, then!” He replies with indignation.
Mariana struggles, and Slime backs away. She starts and stops as if upset by whatever she’s trying to tell him.
“Es muy difícil hablar de ello. Me fui, porque estaba muy enojado conmigo mismo. Sabía que me odiabas, sabía que no querrías verme… I just… I knew you needed space.”
“For months I needed space? Did it ever occur to you that maybe, just maybe I wanted you back at all during that time? That I wanted our family back? I fought, every single fucking day, hoping I could get that back. I saw you, barely , and wanted that. And I always hoped you’d stay.” Slime almost shouts as he waves his arms around in pure exasperation. “You could have.” He says finally, sorrow in his voice.
He glares at her but there is little heat behind his gaze. Mariana winces and looks ashamed, folding his wings in tightly as if to appear smaller.
“No espero que me perdones... Pero espero que sepas que lo siento. Haré todo lo que pueda para compensarte, querida.” He says with genuine remorse. Mariana’s eyes hold pain and regret as he holds his arms close to himself.
Slime feels slight guilt, any anger ebbing away at her proclamation. He still isn’t entirely happy with him but at least he understands. And he wants to trust her words knowing he doesn’t have much else to lose in this situation.
The night sky moves slowly across the horizon, the darkness of night still persistent. Slime sidles up next to Mariana again, bumping shoulders as they lean across the balcony together.
They stare at one another, wordlessly, their gazes connected. Although there are so many things left to discuss, Slime thinks that they have all the time in the world to do so. But all he wants right now is to admire the way the stars reflect in Mariana’s eyes. All he wants is to dream, dream of better memories and maybe make them come true.
With Mariana beside him, maybe they can be, their hands intertwining as they look out into the beautiful blackness of night. Maybe in death he can finally be happy.