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It was only supposed to be a silly trip. Scar was going to go out and get a kill on his nemesis, the Red King of Dogwarts with Grian having to trail behind. Life debted, it was easy to forget that he would never truly be alone, that was until his feathered friend died. He doesn’t want to consider the possibility of him dying when it was very real. Scar strolls the desert with designed ease, they had made sandstone pathing around to make his wheelchair easier to roll over it. The material blends in with the natural sand so well that nobody could ever realize the change!
They’re traveling in the forest now, Grian being alert with a sword in hand while Scar waltzes on without a care in the world, like nothing could stop him. There’s a dull ache in his head he brushes off as just being a red life thing. He was the only one, he could never get advice for that sort of thing right now! It wasn’t even that bad of a feeling so it wasn’t important. Grians claws kick up dirt as they go, taking up idle chit chat.
“Have you thought your plan through at all, Scar?”
“Nope! I just know I wanna slay the king, that’s what he gets for messing with me.”
Grian had sighed at this comment. It makes Scar laugh as the avians feathers ruffle a bit. It’s rather funny because he wasn’t going to just walk out. There was a moral obligation! It would be a shame of Scar was ditched this early into the game. It’s the second pain that shocks him into silence. It’s an ache that courses his entire body and it causes him to stumble a bit. Jerking a hand to his mouth, Scar coughs and hacks into it. “Hold on G-man- I-“
There’s alarm bells ringing in his head. Something was wrong and he certainly wasn’t feeling his brightest. He feels hands brush his shoulders and Grian carefully calls his name. He just wants to shut his eyes and take a deep sleep and never wake up from it..
He wakes up at home. He is in his bed, carefully tucked under his blanket. Weren’t they outside? Where was Grian? This all makes his head spin, too many thoughts rushing his head as he tries to understand where he was. He was ache-y and miserable, he fell over in the grass and then someone talked to him and now he was here.
Grian was sitting on one of the little wall shelves they have. They’re tough, embedded so deep into sandstone that he could do this. His wings are flared up, pupils dismayed as he seemingly waits for his partner to wake up. Luckily he spots Scar coming to, immediately rushing him. “Don’t do that to me!” He shouts suddenly making Scars ears ring.
“Grian hold on -.”
“No! You don’t get to ‘hold on’ to me, listen to me.”
Yeah, Scar shuts up real fast. He isn’t going to argue with someone who could smite him down in minutes.
“I thought- I thought you died, or you were dying and I was afraid I was losing you, Scar. You- why didn’t you say anything?”
Good question, why hadn’t he been more aware of whatever that was? Sure it felt like nothing more than a muscle ache but at least now he could think straight. His brain was still a bit foggy though.
“You’re just feverish Scar, and that’s not good. I have nothing to give you, there’s no me-
“-medicine in the desert, I know Grian. I’ll be fine. Nothing can take down Scar.”
The avian doesn’t appreciate being interrupted but he does saunter off to a different point in the little desert tower. Scar never saw Grian making a fuss over someone before. Typically he was headstrong and almost practically the total opposite of what he’s seeing now. He’s been made to sit in bed, looking nearby to see his companion in a frenzy of fluttering wings and searching for a rag. There was no getting it cold but he guesses Grian will make it damp to lay across his head and let it cool him in the dead of night. It’s a warm red fabric, likely from an old sweater of Grians. Long sleeves did not treat them well in the desert, likely going to burn him up before they could make it to the end of the games.
Scar leans back against a pillow coated in what feels like a thin layer of sand. They would never keep it out , no matter how much he tried and Grian has gone to put fabric over windows. His body feels hot, mind fuzzy. He can simply register Grian turning around with their water bucket (the only thing protected from the sand) and a rag clearly once wet. He also recognizes the sound of claws on sandstone, oh so Grians coming up.
He goes to sit up, as any person would when being approached and Grian immediately frowns at him, wings ruffling from their splayed out display. “Ah- no, Scar, lay back down, you are sick.” Scar laughs a bit, feeling a dull ache in his muscles, almost refusing to lay down, instead placing another hand behind him to keep himself up. “Grian I’m fine, just a little body ache and maybe the feeling of Lady Death on my shoulder but I will be okay.”
“See, I don’t like how you’re feeling like that, please just- put that on your head and lay down. You need your rest.” There’s a dramatic tone to his voice. Scar cannot tell whether it’s intentional to lighten his mood or if he is being genuine in the way he’s acting. He believes the latter, Grian doesn’t look like he is joking at all in this situation. He looks worried, one could say over dramatic, as he stares over Scar. He doesn’t move, Scar never registers him blinking. He only brings the rag to his head.
It’s warm. Not overwhelmingly hot but it’s not cool either. It helps only a little bit though. He lets out a gentle sigh, seemingly relaxing Grians own nerves as he settles down. Scar isn’t laying down, nothing less than stubborn. He moves a hand to his forehead, placing the back of it against the fabric. He feigns a spell, however, keeping the material from falling on his lap. “Oh I feel terribly ill. I simply might wither away tonight , freeing the poor bird from his restraints.”
Oh and if Grian wasn’t freaked out before, he was now. “Scar!” He lectured, worry dripping into his voice quicker than he could’ve imagined. “Don’t joke about that! Please lay down-“ He ends up laughing at the response he gets out of his partner because he looks so angry that it’s hilarious. “Fine fine, I’m laying down, see?” He slumps backwards, wincing as that causes one of his aches from before to return. It’s a dull one, deep in his side. When he falls into his laying position, he guesses it was aggravated and now it hurts.
“Totally fine, G. It’s just a little fever.”
“Yeah, and in a game where things are enhanced I don’t want you to die to a fever of all things.”
Fair point, Scar concedes to that. First a creeper, then a ravine, last thing that he wants is a fever. It would be a pretty funny way to go the more he thinks about it. He opens his mouth to say his joke but immediately silences it when Grian stalks off upstairs. He's just worried, Scars own voice chimed back at him mentally, it’s been a long time and Scar already wasn’t feeling very strong enough to attempt walking anymore. Luckily his wheelchair came in excellent use at times like these.
Grian comes back eventually, carefully having a blanket tucked underneath his arm and their makeshift pillows in the other. He situates them near Scars bed however not on it. The red life is puzzled, eyebrows quirked. Was Grian intending to camp out in the room? Not in the same bed surely, he wasn’t a real touchy person, they were learning. He watches as the parrot situated himself on the floor, leaning the pillow against the wall. There was a silent intention to sleep sitting up.
“Grian it’s okay, honestly I’ll be fine.”
“Hush it.”
Scar sighs as Grian settles down. He ends up moving the pillow to sleep with his head leaned against the bed frame. His wings continue to ruffle from anxiety, Scar can see it from how they’re concealed. He doesn’t feel confident. However his voice speaks up.
“Wake me if it gets worse.” His voice is weighed with anxiety, hazel eyes catching his own green. “Tell me if you feel worse a-and I can try talking to Ren, I could get some type of flower that I make into soup, something to bring down the fever and keep you safe-.”
“Grian.” Scars voice is smooth. He ends up having to cough into his elbow directly after which doesn’t help. “I’ll be fine. We’ll be fine. I’m not going to die.”
Grian looks unsure but ends up listening to him. “Okay. You’re fine- you’ll be fine. Go to bed.”
“Alright.”
Scar snickers and gives him a thumbs up before tucking himself into his blanket. It’s still hurting but at least he has Grian with him.