Chapter Text
How much faith do you really put in your heroes? It would not be surprising if you looked up to them, believed in them, or even had a bias for the people who supposedly kept the overworld from stirring into a land of pure chaos. Would you keep that same belief in your heart if you got to know them, face to face? Learned of their hardships and truth behind the moment of their rise to the very top? That is up to you.
Repeated tales of these few talented individuals labeled them as heroes, spawn who were ‘crafted to perfection’ by the creators themselves; The Order of the Stone. Truly, stars ahead of their time. Gabriel the Warrior, a fearsome man who’s skills flowed throughout his figure when granted a sword; Ellegaard the Redstone Engineer, she whose genius inspired many to invent impressive machinery; Magnus the Rogue, whose destructive innovation fueled his need for intensive havoc; Ivor the Alchemist, whose scientific intelligence sparked awe into those who stumble upon his work; and finally, Soren the Architect, a gifted man whose builds towered above many others— the leader of the Order of the Stone.
These five luminaries will go on and perform their final act… slaying the powerful beast, shrouded in mystery and conflict; the Ender Dragon. Only the creators up above know the role such a powerhouse plays, people have only gotten so close to sketch out what it looks like, and nothing more. Time and time again, many spawn have tried to slay this monster, only to never be seen again; such a task can only be achieved by the best of the best. Time and time again the pursuing of the dragon has left it vigorous, growing more ferocious as the ambushes went on.
Well, “What about the Order?” you may ask— right now, the story continues… The tale of the Order or the Stone ends here, in the realm of the End.
This is the day they become legends.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The catacombs of the stronghold echoed with murmuring, critters sculpting amongst themselves; water droplets seeping through the cracks of the worn down stone-bricks; and footsteps of the travelling band of heroes. Soren walked in the front, a proud leader. Ivor and Gabriel hung behind him, while Ellegaard and Magnus walked in the back and chatted up a storm. As the Order searched for the main objective, the murmuring turned into discussion; conversation considering a plan. A plan, yes, of course. They were really about to do this, weren’t they? The five of them against a foe that’s rarely been scathed by a sword… a plan was very much needed, and our heroes were incredibly underestimating the opponent that they would face.
It was Ivor who brought up the topic in the first place, becoming terribly anxious with what drew near. He felt like he was the only one taking this seriously.
“Not to be a downer, friends, but do we even have a single clue how we’re going to take this creature down!” Ivor erratically said as usual, concern lacing his tone. He flailed his hands in the air, causing his armor to clank along with his movement. Magnus raised his brow and walked up ahead to match the pace of the alchemist, putting his hand on Ivor’s shoulder in attempted reassurance.
“Ivor, Ivor, relax! Are you forgetting who we are? The friggin’ Order, duh!” The borderline terrorist optimistically said, ignoring all fact that none of them knew what they were doing. “Yes! Obviously, we are the Order. Thank you, I almost forgot!” He snapped, slapping Magnus’ hand away. Magnus’ eyes widened, then he sighed heavily. He opened his mouth to say something— but was cut off, “But are we forgetting how underprepared we are?! I don't even think I brewed enough potions for this—” The man was about to go on an intensive rant before he was cautiously interrupted by Gabriel.
”Ivor, please… I’m sure we’re going to be fine. We always came out on top before, right?” The warrior gently reminded the alchemist, shooting him a worried gaze. Ivor was going to speak his mind upon the past few adventures—about the usage of that damned command block. However, Soren promised him that this would be a vanilla battle. The Order would have to use the strengths that they never really had. Ivor looked back at Gabriel with strain in his eyes, as he didn’t want to stress the others; he knew that everyone else was thinking the same thing.
He eventually sighed in defeat. “You’re right… but— let’s discuss at least a general idea of how we’ll do this, please?” He asked the group, truthfully just wanting everyone to make it out safely. Though a bit of silence and Magnus’ obnoxiously loud hums— Soren spoke up.
“I understand your concern, Ivor. Actually, I already had a plan in mind.” He informed, rubbing his chin. “You said you brought your potions, right?” The architect asked Ivor; Ivor’s eyes flitted over to the leader and he nodded.
“Yes! Yes I did. I have potions of slow falling; potions of healing; potions of regeneration—” Ivor listed off as he checked the several pouches that rested on his hip, pausing to take a moment to recount everything in an anxious manner, “And potions of strength… I have enough for all of us.”
Soren nodded as the list went on, humming in acknowledgment the more his friend spoke, “…Good, I see you’re… very prepared.” He noted, putting his hands behind his back as he walked. Soren spoke up again after falling into a temporary silence, “Okay, I’ve got it. Ivor, once we get to the portal room, we’ll take all the potions you made. Then, I’ll activate it with all the eye of ender I have.” The leader of the order discussed the plan as the dreadful march to find the portal room would soon come to a close. “When we’re in there… I’ll go in first, and distract the dragon with my bow. Ivor will come with me. Magnus, Ellegaard, you two work together.”
“Awh, what!” Magnus shouted, irritating Ellegaard’s ears, “I’d thought our final adventure would get me some of my own action…” The Redstone mastermind interjected before Magnus could keep running his yap, “Of course not you dolt! Not when we have to work together. This is something none of us has ever encountered before.” The engineer hissed, lightly punching Magnus’ shoulder, earning an “ouch—!” from him. “Stakes are high, Magnus. We have no time to bicker.”
“Ellegaard is right. Besides, you two make a fine pair the times you really work together.” Gabriel added, looking behind at Ellegaard and Magnus, winking. The warrior was always making sure that peace was kept between the two. His comment made the prickly pair chuckle, “Soren, please continue.” Gabriel said, motioning towards the leader with his shoulder, “Yes of course… where was I?” Soren pondered aloud.
“The plan! The plan, you were talking about the roles Elle and Magnus would have.” Ivor carefully reminded the leader. He was incredibly relieved that they were going over this. It was bothering him the whole journey they had trying to find the stronghold. “Right— yes, thank you Ivor.” Soren cleared his throat and continued the plan, “Magnus and Ellegaard should use their combined strengths to fling explosives at the dragon. Can you two do that?” He playfully asked, knowing that they’re prone to disagreements.
“We got it covered, don’t worry.” Ellegaard reassured, elbowing Magnus while she did. Magnus nodded affirmatively and held up a thumbs up for confirmation.
“Excellent. Now, Gabriel. When the Dragon is weakened, that's when you come in with your sword. Got it?” Soren conducted, confidence in his voice spilled through the strange formality he always carried. At least, confidence that Ivor could catch from miles away.
“I’ll go where my sword will take me; aye aye, Soren!” The warrior enthusiastically said, his smile shining brightly. The plan wasn’t exactly a plan… but, it was a start. At least they wouldn’t just run in there without a clue of what to do at all. The plan actually felt more like a pep talk— the atmosphere was different. Everyone seemed to be more amped up than anything. The order merely had small talk and Ivor seemed to be a little more relaxed; the group of friends had been traveling the echoing chamber of the stronghold and had come across dead ends, cells, and libraries. Looting the area was beginning to get a bit obnoxious, seeing that the many who traveled this far before have taken most of the good stuff. Before anyone decided to add on to the shallow idea that Soren brought light to, they had finally found it. The portal room. After traveling the catacombs for what felt like years (which was truthfully only thirty minutes) since they arrived— it was time. All the confidence from before had melted into a pathetic glob of anticipation and anxiety.
The silence was loud, except for the occasional slithering of silver fish and the destructive Magnus immediately destroying the mob spawner that was once embedded into the stairs. The heroes were certainly in awe… Everything was worn and run-down. all except for the inactive portal itself. The room itself was flooded in mystery— the knowledge that this portal has been reactivated and deactivated time and time again lingers in the back of their minds. Soren signaled his teammates into a huddle, the order forming into a circle and giving each other nervous looks. It was getting a bit tense, “Okay, phase one… Ivor, the potions.” Murmured Soren.
“Right! Of course.” Ivor affirmed while he checked his pockets and his inventory. The alchemist handed out various colorful elixirs; One variant for each Order member, including himself. Once all the bottles were handed out he instructed everyone, “Take a sip from a specific bottle if you need extra help, or if you’re in danger. Please— be cautious, my friends.” Nods and thumbs’ up were exchanged around the room before emergency potions were stored into the inventories of familiar faces. The thick atmosphere only grew heavier— after a moment of silence, Soren started, “This, my friends, is the moment we’ve all been waiting for.” He ominously announced, beginning to place the multiple eye of enders into their respective places. With a click and a whirr each one locked into place and pulsed with unknown power; The rest of the Order watched this scene unravel before them, anxiety seeming to claw its way through the guts of each member… Gabriel swallowed thickly, a bead of sweat clung to Ellegaard’s brow, Magnus felt his legs get wobbly, and Ivor’s heart pounded in his chest.
Are we really ready for this?
Nobody even had to say anything for it to be an obvious question among them. They were as still as armor stands until the final eye of ender was placed into its cubby; The portal began to shift and fizzle for only a few seconds… even though those few seconds weren’t so significant, the room that held the portal to this unforeseen realm trembled. Dust and loose stone shards fell from the ceiling before the room darkened with a loud ‘boom’ echoing through the labyrinth that is the stronghold. The portal entrance danced as if it were skilled in ballet; the shimmering flakes of what could’ve been stardust fox-trotted around one another and flowed like a thick blizzard in the highest mountains of a taiga tundra, looking into it for too long makes one feel like something was staring back. It was quite a beautiful sight to behold. It was still silent between the heroes, it was as silent as the portal itself.
“Well! Keh… What’re we waiting for? Eh? Let’s get this show on the road!” Magnus suddenly exploded, his voice noticeably lacking an echo. Soren shot a look at Gabriel, then Gabriel looked at Ellegaard; glances were thrown across the room until a quiet agreement was met. Everyone nodded. Soren’s wide stance straightened and he cleared his throat, turning around to look at the others. “Yes, let's.” He swallowed whilst leaning backwards, “I’ll see you all on the other side.”
Soren fell in.
After Soren dove Gabriel.
After Gabriel charged Magnus.
After Magnus descended Ellegaard.
And finally…
Ivor looked down at the portal sourly with an overwhelming sense of anticipation fogging his vision, “I can only beg the creators for a smooth battle.” He groaned, stepping forward and falling into the entrance of the end.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
One by one, the Order of the Stone filed into the End, their feet ‘cushioned’ by a hard and shiny looking mineral, “Obsidian…” Soren audibly noted. Soon, after taking a few moments to collect their bearings, they realized they were on a floating island. Ivor brushed off his cloak, armor clanking as he moved his arms and was about to ask why everyone was just as still as they were before they jumped in— that’s when he looked up and laid his eyes upon the island just across from them. There, that ethereal beast; the Ender dragon flew in circles, patrolling. The air between the members was incredibly tense, as if by a snap of a finger they were all noobs again. Ivor ushered past Magnus, standing at the edge of the island alongside Soren. Soren’s face was crumpled with an indecipherable emotion, but the rest? The rest of the Order were riddled with sudden dread.
Gabriel cleared his throat, “Hrm, good luck to us, right?” clearly trying to break the horrible, suffocatingly awkward silence, “Right, of course… To the Order!” Ellegaard agreed, raising her voice uncharacteristically sheepishly. She earned a “Hell yeah!” from Magnus, though it lacked a lot of ego. Yet again, everyone exchanged nods while Soren began to bridge to the middle island. Stiff bodies had to move, they had to do this, this was everything they worked for. Ellegaard tightened her heels, Magnus readjusted the cuffs of his armor, Gabriel rested his hand anxiously of the sheath of his sword, and Ivor combed his fingers through his beard all while Soren bridged. The anticipation was making them all ache in several ways— each step forward felt like another trek closer to their timely demise; this was a death march, was it not? Many soldiers and warriors fell victim to this monster and no one came forward to tell their stories; what makes the Order so different from every other naive adventure?
Five pairs of feet set foot on just-barely excavated land. Surprisingly the land beneath them had a strangely cheese-looking texture. It made Ellegaard’s skin crawl. As soon as they reached the surface of this foreign land, gazes shot straight down to the floor… This dimension was absolutely crawling with endermen. Quickly, it was as if everyone was in sync; the Order ushered through the crowd of endermen that seemed to wander incredibly aimlessly, “Is everyone ready?” The Order moved in a single-file line and slowly made their way past the first pillar. All was going smoothly until Magnus puffed his chest out and cried out to the dragon,
“Hey! Down here ya big fat lizard!” And just like that, their cover vanished. Magnus earned many-of irritated jabs, the other members spitting out his name in unison. Some voices more anxious than the other few. The dragon was far up in the air, and had snarled upon such a disturbance. The agitating screech on land that most certainly didn’t belong to an enderman; Its eyes met with the heroes that were like ants beneath the dragon’s foot.
Seriously? More homogeneous fiends had dared to come into its territory, yet again! Over and over these humans come to terrorize and take what is not theirs to claim— they simply won't understand no matter how much the Ender Dragon tries to ward them off. It didn’t matter anymore, for it was exhausted and utterly enraged. The creatures that bickered beneath the dragon truly were only temporary guests. With a flick of a tail and a gut-wrenching roar, the dragon began to pummel down from the air towards the order.
Upon hearing the ferocious exclamation, the Order straightened out and stopped their arguing to look up and see the Ender Dragon honing in on their current position. The heroes were like deer caught in headlights. Its throat emitted a pulsing purple glow as it drew closer and opened its maw.
”Damn it, RUN!” Called Ivor, grabbing Soren by the hand and demanding his friends to scatter. The dragon breathed a magical essence that scorched the floor in its extravagant flames; it split the order down the middle and separated the bunch. The heroes dispersed in groups, running along the herds of endermen to escape the fiery fury of the dragon.
“If only Magnus kept his yap shut!” Ivor cried before being cut off by Soren.
“Yes— but now is not the time to complain! We have to regroup.” Soren panted while he ran hand-in-hand with Ivor.
”Obviously!” The two men ran with their gazes down at the floor, scurrying like silverfish. Ivor suddenly picked up speed and was almost dragging Soren behind him like a ragdoll; the two took cover behind an obsidian pillar. They were out of breath, clinging onto one another subconsciously.
“Haah… Ivor. I— need you to find the others,” Soren mumbled as he caught his breath, “Round them up and… minimize— the hysteria…”
Ivor looked around cautiously before shooting Soren a shocked look, “What?! What about you?” Before anything else, the ginger-haired leader grabbed Ivor’s shoulders with firm reassurance.
“You know I’ll be just fine. I’ll meet you by…” He paused, peeking past the pillar they cowered behind and pointed towards another.
“That one! Meet me by that pillar right there, okay? Gather the others.” Soren commanded , basically dismissing his dearest friend. “I’ll come find you.”
Ivor furrowed his brow and begrudgingly nodded, hugging Soren briefly. Soren smiled shortly within the small bliss of the hug before Ivor gathered his courage and disappeared into the crowd of endermen. After Soren was left by himself, he began rummaging in his inventory.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Ellegaard and Gabriel had been separated into their own duo, and Magnus (deservingly) was on his own. Everyone was lost in the crowd of natives. Gabriel ran behind the engineer; she was hard to keep up with even if she was running in heels.
They came to a cautious stop by the outskirts of the dragon’s domain.
”Do you know— urgh… Where Magnus went?” Ellegaard asked, more sheepish than irritated.
“No, I… wasn’t able to see him when the dragon came down,” the exhausted warrior hummed frustratedly. “We need to find the others without drawing more attention to ourselves.”
”Oh, Creators, why does that even matter? Magnus already alerted the damn thing that we’re here!” Ellegaard hissed.
”Keep your voice down!” Gabriel whined back in a whisper. The two sat and devised their own plan to find the others; truthfully, they didn’t know what to do. The Order always acted like everything was okay and manageable, but the command block was the backbone of most occasions: Gabriel trains diligently, but freezes up during real battles; Ellegaard simply relies on all her inventions; it’s all a mess. The danger of their current situation was kindling for an argument to spark… that was until—
”There you two are! Gah… I’ve been searching all over for you!” exclaimed the hysteric Ivor, who was rubbing his temples. “C’mon, quickly. Soren said to meet behind that pillar over there!” He pointed behind him whilst he spoke. Without hesitation, the still members were back on the move and shuffled through the crowd of endermen. They tried their best to stay out of the sight of the dragon… though, it seemed that it was focused on something else entirely. After the difficulty of treading through the chaos was over, relief washed over Ellegaard and Gabriel once they saw that Soren was alive and well.
”Soren!” Gabriel cried, “Thank the Aethers— I was afraid something happened to you.” He said, looking at his friend with soft doe-like eyes.
“I appreciate your concern… truth is, I’m worried about all of you.” Soren huffed before coming to a realization, one so very stupid.
“Wait… Ivor. Where’s Magnus?”
The group had come to an unfortunate comprehension that Magnus was nowhere to be seen, which explained the lack of egotistical blabbering. They were missing someone, which caused a stir within the fractured group.
“Magnus— creators, Magnus!” Ivor exclaimed in a fit of panic, fumbling to run in front of the pillar that they grouped behind. Gabriel and Ellegaard followed Ivor’s pursuit with heads down and tension gripping at the ankles like shackles.
“Can you see him?” Asked the nervous warrior. He grabbed onto Ivors shoulder and pulled him back slightly, trying to get a good view without alarming any creatures.
“No, not at all… There's so many endermen lurking.” Ivor grumbled.
“Wait, look! That’s him! I see him!” cried Ellegaard, pushing past the two men and waving her arms about.
Magnus burst through a flock of endermen in the far distance, crying out and bolting like a lunatic while making his way toward his friends. It appeared that the Ender Dragon was barreling behind him with rage plaguing its being; it made sense now, the dragon was focused on the griefer the whole time! It was angry enough to target him. The order cheered Magnus on, begging him to keep running, praying that he’d keep pushing to close the distance. Ellegaard refused to just stand and watch her teammate struggle. She ran out into the crowd of endermen and grabbed Magnus by the hand, coaching him along as they both ran back.
They all had a plan in mind, it didn’t have to be said out loud.
Regroup, run. Find a way.
However… there was another idea in mind. Once Magnus got close enough, once the dragon was raring to spit its elemental destruction—there was a bright flash, and suddenly… It vanished. Gone, genuinely, without a single trace behind. It took only a few seconds to process what happened; friends exchanged confused looks; Magnus fell over on the floor out of exhaustion. The silence between the Order was dampened and drowned out by approaching footsteps behind them, prompting everyone to turn their gazes to the sight of Soren holding the command block. It pulsed with absorbed power.
More silence.
That was until Ivor snapped. “SOREN! You have got to be kidding me!” he barked, stamping over to their leader and sputtering his dismay directly into his face. “Do you have any IDEA what that stunt of yours could have cost us!?”
“Goodness sakes, Ivor, don’t you understand? We could’ve gotten hurt, or worse!” Soren fired back, clutching the command block close to his chest. Its multicolored lights flickered behind his palms. “What about Magnus, huh? You wouldn’t want to see him get killed because we had no clue on how to defeat this thing!”
“Oh, please. Elle clearly had Magnus in her clutches! We were going to be just fine!” Ivor argued, shoving Soren with some might.
Soren stumbled back. “Then what after that, huh? More struggling, more running? More risks? More chances of getting killed?!”
“That comes with the responsibility of being heroes. That’s exactly what the damned potions I made for us were for! We had a plan!”
“A plan that derailed quickly.”
“You promised me you wouldn’t use that forsaken thing!”
”I couldn’t just stand by letting you all get hurt, knowing I have the ability to quickly stop any of the sort.” Soren hissed, using the same argument he did before. He used it for that exact purpose, to protect his friends; let's face it, they would’ve never defeated the Ender Dragon without the god block. Soren knew this deep within his heart.
Ivor scowled in fury. He couldn’t believe how Soren could betray him like this—betray them all like this. He clenched his fist and growled out a strangled huff. The others watched as the two young men bit at each other back and forth, having never witnessed a disagreement that was this bad. Quickly, it all came crashing down.
“Ivor, I had no choice—”
“You promised.”
“We’ll still be heroes! No one has to know… think about the look on everyone’s face once they learn about how we defeated the dragon.”
“We didn’t defeat the dragon at all! You’re seriously satisfied going down in history as a fake?”
“Maybe I am.”
“Fine.” Ivor grumbled, closing his eyes and turning away from Soren. He started up and began walking away. “Well I’m not.”
With that, the Order of the Stone made their way towards the exit portal, taking the dragon’s beloved egg as a trophy of their bravery. They were known as awe-inspiring heroes who’d done the impossible! They claimed their place on the pedestal of courage, making their way into the hearts of young spawn and giving people the hope they needed to keep going… The Order of the Stone slipped into the ever-flipping pages of legend; all… except for Ivor, who vowed to prove to the world one day that the order weren’t who they claimed to be. He refused to be seen in the spotlight undeservingly, and slowly as the years passed, he was forgotten.
His story was covered in dust and left behind.
~~~~~~≠↑(¢¥©℅£×∆√Ω\≠~~~~~~
Something greater than the sum of their parts happened that day. In the snap of a finger, millions of circuitry was incinerated by the pressure of a thousand manmade suns. And in that one moment, an eternity of life became broken, and a sea of numbers crashed against the shore of what is and what isn’t. No spawn would have noticed. Every star in the sky remained the same. Yet, something was different; something unlawfully broken was being unlawfully repaired.
There was a noise, like the anguished roar of a fallen monster. And she was gone, and she was back, and she was gone again. Her very being was torn apart and stitched back together over and over and over. Children of flesh with no home; ducklings of soul with no mother. She was ripped from her own skin and torn from her own bones without even a fleeting chance to spit her colorful flames.
And at once, it was nowhere.
And at once, she was everywhere.
And at once, it was dead.
And at once, she was alive again.
And at once, after the cycle had repeated itself a hundred-thousand times over, everything became dark.
It was impossible to tell for years what the change was. The Order's way of life persevered–unmatched by other heroes, and unforeseen by those who dared to bat an eye. To decry the legend as a fable was to dig yourself your own hole. And so, nobody knew: not even them.
Nobody, except for her.
Nobody; until she was born again.
~~~~~~☆~~~~~~
It was bright. It was bright, and it was warm. It was the first warmth it had ever felt. At least, that was what it assumed. And then it realized that it had made an assumption, and its face flushed with color, no longer a husk of empty tissue.
It figured, through deduction, that the light was more than an obstacle designed solely for itself, as that would be a waste of creation. And so, to break away from the glare, it turned its head–under the realization that it had one–and rested its gaze upon the low creepers and weeds of the forest. There was something here more than itself. It placed its hands against the Overworld and hoisted itself up into a sitting position, looking down at gray shoes with untied laces and jeans dirtied by soil. It was something. Some… one.
It was alive. That much, it could tell. But there was something else.
A thought; a feeling.
‘Jesse.’
He figures that it’s probably important. A coherent thought.
Jesse sits up straighter and cracks his back, feeling as though he had been laying there for eons. He finds his way to his feet with the misdirection of a newborn fawn, wondering if it was like this for everything that the light dropped from the sky. It wasn’t long before his thoughts became crowded with feelings of discomfort.
Where am I? Why is the ground so uncomfortable? How do I fix these strings on my shoes?
Decidedly, a fruitless pursuit of knowledge. The brunette shakes his head, feeling chestnut strands brush against his forehead. He awkwardly raises a hand and combs each finger, individually, through his hair. It was a nice feeling. He figured, if it was nice, it must be something he should keep doing. So, he stood and began to walk–purposeless and lost–with his hand repeatedly slicking back his hair as though he was coded to do so. Eventually every motion became so unconscious and repetitive that he found himself fixated on nothing at all: unblinking and agape, unbeknownst to the world around him, pressing on in a robotic march. The invisible hand-crank on his back kept turning, and soon so was he, randomly cutting corners that didn’t exist, steering left and right on his heels to avoid incomprehensible barriers. It was only when he heard the sound of something hitting the dirt that he paused his confusing ritual and turned his head toward the source of the noise.
Another creature had materialized from the same nothingness.
Immediately, the influx of senses had overwhelmed the newspawn; the being tensed up, curling into a slight ball on the floor. A small, frail breath pushed through its nose and fled out of its mouth. Dark, thick eyelashes helped bat away the bright light that stung its eyes, and out of fear, the young creature shut them tightly. The air was crisp and invading, but lungs begged for the sweetness that was oxygen flow. The creature got used to the sensation, and began to think less of it. It seemed to calm itself after a brief few moments of feeling warmth tingle on its dusty brown skin.
A feeling formed. It felt very uncomfortable. Without much understanding, something came to mind.
‘Jesse.’
He didn’t know what it meant; he had not a single clue what anything meant. Jesse noticed how plush and soft the ground beneath him felt on his hands. His eyelids meekly folded back; his corneas whined in response… he blinked a few times in an attempt of readjustment. He soon got used to the lessening brightness, and noticed the other figure who stood not very far away from him: still as the tree he clung to, of which hid part of his silhouette. He seemed more curious than afraid. Evergreen eyes locked onto Jesse, observing his features: his clothes, his hair, his eyes. Each flit of those fixated pupils displayed a little more light than the last.
After what seemed like forever, the other began to move, cautiously, as though to not frighten or startle the newspawn who lay against Nature’s blanket. Soon enough, those careful steps—still imbued in tenderness—paused, him now only a few blocks away from Jesse. The other figure looked down at him for a while longer before extending his left hand and offering a dimpled smile.
“Hi, there.”
Jesse pauses for a moment, attempting to denounce the safety of this new face.
“Hello…” slipped from his lips a moment later as he looked up at the other with caution. Sunlight peered from out of the flowing forest ceiling behind the other boy’s head. Streaks of light landed on Jesse’s face; the light revealed a crisp burnt sienna color that was hidden in the shade of coffee brown irises. Though cautious, the newspawn didn’t move. He was hesitant— reading the other’s features. His eyes especially widened when the other’s smile dimpled, how odd? How unique. He blinked blankly a few times and then reached his hand out to the other one, stopping mid air to process it all. The shy newspawn grabbed onto the other’s hand and he was pulled up onto his wobbly feet. The other seemed to consider letting go, but his fingers stayed taut against Jesse’s hand, as though they were stuck by glue.
“Who are you?” Jesse peeped.
Those green eyes narrowed slightly in thought before widening again by the prospect of a question.
“Uhm, I’m Jesse. What’s your name?” The conspicuous double seemed unsure at first, pausing before asking his own question. His face was flush with innocence and curiosity.
That word... the name, Jesse, was familiar.
The darker-skinned figure knows of such a thing, he thinks he knows it well. The younger spawn tilted his head slightly while staring at the other Jesse’s outstanding features.
“...Me too, my name is Jesse, too.” Jesse #2 mumbled, still a little shy. Two Jesses seems a bit odd, doesn’t it? Strange, but fitting. His brown irises trotted across the other’s figure, and he noticed how he dressed; the way he parted his hair; his rosy button nose. Jesse looked down and spotted a similarity— their suspenders. The other was busy chuckling at their names.
“Whoa, really? That’s so cool.” He offered another smile, this time showing teeth.
“Our clothes look kind of the same.” Jesse #2 noted while adjusting his hand against the other’s, interlocking each of their fingers. His shyness started to dissipate as comfort whispered through the chilly breeze that slipped past the two, and he noticed the other Jesse’s face light up in curiosity. That toothy grin gently faded and his evergreen eyes locked onto their meshed palms, whereas he seemed to become lost in thought, softly rubbing his thumb against the back of the darker-skinned hand. One shake of the head later, and he was back to blinking and smiling at the other figure.
“Maybe we’re related or something. There must be a reason our names and our clothes are the same—or, similar, I guess—minus coincidence, right?” Jesse #1 used his free hand to rub the back of his neck, trailing off in thought. Jesse #2 felt his own gaze soften.
“Related…” he mumbled, taking a moment to ponder with the word in his mouth. He liked the way it sounded, he liked the way it made sense.
“…Related.”
He repeated himself quietly, letting the thought fully sink in. His face curled into a dopey smile, and his upper lip got caught on a snaggletooth canine.
“That makes sense. Maybe we’re siblings?” he asked, tilting his head and letting out a content hum. “I guess that would explain the names. But, don’t you think that would get a little confusing?” His smile dropped.
“... you know, us having the same name.”
Jesse #1 pursed his lips, shifting his right hand to his chin so he could scratch at its smooth surface in thought. “Yeah, probably… maybe we should use nicknames. Let’s see…” The other observed Jesse #2’s features, thoroughly brushing his gaze up and down, left and right. He seemed to figure something to himself, as his face lit up slightly with the promise of an idea.
“Ooh, okay. How about this: I’ll be Resse, since my suspenders are red; you’ll be Gresse, since yours are green. Yea’?” He snapped his fingers, smiling pridefully and puffing his chest as if he thought it was a fantastic suggestion. Truthfully, it was quite childish and uncreative, but it was better than using the same name. With a dilation of eyes, however, a chuckle and a smile left Gresse’s lips.
“Pfft— Haha!” spilled out of his mouth. To him, the names were very funny. He liked how silly that was, but he really liked how his brother was incredibly confident about them, and wanted to keep it that way.
”H’okay… That’ll do, Resse.” the shy Gresse mumbled, his voice was barely above a whisper.
While he stayed close to his brother, he took a moment to look around and hummed in slight confusion. Where were they? It appeared the two boys spawned in the middle of a forest.
“Well… what do we do now?” he asked, looking back over at Resse, who offered another dimpled smile, having earned much endearment from his brother’s earlier laugh. He appeared to be, once again, lost in his thoughts; an expanding sensation—a feeling—rose in his chest, filling his body and mind with a comforting, familial warmth.
Maybe this was why he was here. Maybe this was his purpose. He figured again: if it was nice, it must be something he should keep doing.
The brunette shook his head and looked up at the canopy of oak leaves overhead. His thumb rubbed circles into the back of Gresse’s hand, meticulous and careful; soft and warm. He blinked and squinted through the godrays.
”I guess we should get moving. Maybe there’s some place we’re supposed to go. Something we’re… supposed to do? I’m really not sure… but there must be something. Come on,” he started to walk, in turn taking his brother along with him as his hand refused to escape from the grasp of the other’s. Gresse’s eyes widened as he was tugged by his brother, which his body subconsciously obliged and began tagging along behind him. He stayed in a pleasant silence for a while—unable to say anything while he was taking in more information about their surroundings. He hummed curiously while observing all the wildlife once more, this time while he and Resse were on the move. The contrast between warm and cool colors merging as the two boys were in motion was a captivating sight.
“Resse?” he started. ”What are those… big tall things that are everywhere?” he asked, inquiring about the trees that stretched on for what seemed like forever. Gresse only noticed just now how they made him anxious. Resse glanced toward his brother in thought before taking a long, hard look at the various towering monsters around them. His brow furrowed; he felt as though he should have known, but they were a mystery to him, just like the rest of the world was. The brunette brushed his hair back with his free hand to ease his mind and try to come up with some kind of answer.
“Uhm… I’m not sure, but… they seem friendly. Or… not dangerous. We haven’t been hurt by them yet, so… Maybe they’re just here to block the light in the sky. That would make sense, wouldn’t it?...” he murmured the last bit to himself as if attempting to self-reassure his line of reasoning. Gresse nodded in default agreement after obtaining his brother’s wisdom.
“Hmm… that sounds right… they don’t seem like they can move like we can,” he mumbled, still staring up at the towering structures. The lack of movement besides idle swaying confused him.
“Why do you think that is?” He wondered if Resse had another answer. The brief moment of silence and lack of response thereafter was an indicator that Resse did not, in fact, have an answer. It took another minute for him to pull a conclusion out of his head, and it was half-hearted, fitted with an undertone of uncertainty as though he wasn’t feeling confident in his answers.
“I guess not everything here can move. I mean, look at the ground–it’s been still this entire time,” Resse tilted his head down and gazed at the soil—littered with grass and moss—observing how it retained its place even as the brothers’ shoes left marks on its surface. He pursed his lips in a slight frown and lifted his head so he could glance back toward Gresse. “I don’t think it’s a bad thing. Maybe they don’t care.”
Gresse stopped staring blankly and also looked down at the ground beneath him when Resse gave his answer, squinting and lifting his foot to reveal a patch of grass that had been squished— though not moving to avoid it. He blinked a few times, then looked back up at his brother.
”Oh… I guess so. Maybe they don’t like moving either.” The younger one claimed with a tilt of his head “That makes sense. You’re really smart…” He spoke with a smile, rubbing Resse’s hand with his thumb. The brunette beside him smiled back, his cheeks once again indented and rosy in fraternal pride. He looked to the side and met his brother’s gaze, confirming in his head–for certain– that this was his family.
“Thanks, Gres.”
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