Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It was nothing short of an honour to be allowed to have creative freedom. Being taken under the wing, being given resources and, most importantly, trust of those who stood above… Xelqua felt honoured. Maybe a bit cocky, treating other watchers from his nest with a bit of a superiority complex.

But watchers were known to have big egos, especially if being fed into it, so there was no punishment for that.

Creation of the new method to harvest emotions was… risky. Sure. A lot of purple eyes looked at Xelqua’s idea with distrust. Too many unstable unknowns.
What if mortals, no, in this case players will get along with each other? What if there won’t be any drama? No hate? No disgust? No fights? What if it would be boring. Or worse - players would be happy. And separating an entire world, changing the rules of it, choosing and kidnapping souls, locking them away in the death game that must not affect their actual lives (death does no benefit to those who feed off suffering)… It would take a lot of resources. A lot of time. A lot of energy. And in return they might get nothing.

The first one collapsed on itself, a terrible start that only prompted more watchers to believe that it was a terrible idea. Gladly it self-destructed before he put or even chose players for this game. The world, or rather rule that would deactivate any humanity and only leave primal instincts of hybrids along with bloodthirst seemed to affect everything in that world. And soon the entire ecosystem was dead: plants, animals… It collapsed too quickly, too fast. And such a short-term game wouldn’t satisfy watchers’ hunger in the long run.

The second time Xelqua edited the rule to affect only those who are close to death. And it slowed down the process… by a day. Apparently some bugs have a very short life span and start the chain of destruction too soon. To say that Xelqua was annoyed would be an understatement. But he figured out the problem.

It didn’t need to be everything that was alive.

It needed to be everything that was sentient.

Just players. No need for cows to go hunting.

And that’s how Xelqua managed to make a third stable box of the deadly life game.

The first watchers Xelqua showed the working world to were Xenrai and Qanilu. They were meant to help him choose players for the game, but that wasn’t the only reason. They’d grown up together, raised in the same nest. Call it attachment if you like, but you’d be wrong.

”This is… lovely,” Qanilu smiled softly, as usual. Xelqua knew that the older watcher always had this face, this soft smile, that it wasn’t real, just like any emotion they showed.

“What do you think, Xenrai?” Xelqua asked.

The three purple eyes of a younger watcher snapped away from the world around and locked onto him: the dirty blonde man with black feathered wings.

“Do I need to reply?” And that was a cue that Xenrai had nothing good to say and as always they had no intention to lie.

“It’s ordinary,” They added a moment later, looking at Xelqua with emotionless eyes. Unlike Qanilu, unless it’s relevant, Xenrai never mimicked emotions. Both were good at it. They just had different views as to when to use their skills.

“It should be ordinary. I haven't put in players yet,” Xelqua flapped his wings, getting higher up, to look at the whole area. Xenrai and Qanilu quickly followed after him.

“Did you choose players already?” The older watcher asked, gazing around the horizon. Their smile never faltered even if their gaze got stuck on the flower forest. A useless biome, in the opinions of the majority, but Qanilu clearly had plans for it. Not something to be surprised about.

Qanilu adored the cloying flavor of mortal heartbreak. With their pretty face and habit of shapeshifting into a seraph, they’d broken more hearts and devoured that disgustingly sweet taste more than anyone else from their nest.

“No, I need your help,” Xelqua couldn’t even finish properly as Xenrai flew in front of his face with a wide smile and sparkle to their usually dull eyes. Not a good sign. Xenrai only ever lit up like that when someone was suffering. Deeply.

Unlike Qanilu, Xenrai was closer in taste preferences with Xelqua. A fizzy fruity taste of paranoia and fear. But Xenrai always had more patience when they hunted. They loved playing long games, sprinkling in the creamy taste of long brewing hopes breaking.

”You say we can help? You trust us with this? You-“ Xenrai got cut off by Qanilu tugging them away from Xelqua.

“Rai, let him speak,” Qanilu said gently, using only half of Xenrai’s name. A warning. A reminder of the line between being an equal and the next dish on a plate.

Qanilu and Xenrai listened to Xelqua’s requests, preferences. Since they left the nest, Xelqua rarely studied mortals. He mostly quickly fed off on the first person in distress and then went back to work on polishing the idea of third life. Qanilu and Xenrai were more suitable to select people for the game with the best taste.

Xenrai was an archevist. They kept the records of every soul that had been studied and fed on at some point. They studied mortals. They had their share favourites: vexes, blazeborns, fox hybrids. Creatures that were cunning in their nature. If anyone can provide a good and big enough list it would be them.

Qanilu? They were a master of relationships. Over the years of hunting for cloying sugary syrup of emotions they learned the pattern. What traits would go well together, what characteristics would cause hatred and war. They would be a perfect choice to ensure that Xenrai’s list would have cracks and ties, that everyone in that list would have someone to trust, to betray, to hate, to love.

The only restriction Xelqua gave them was that those people should not know each other. Their homes should be from different worlds. At least the majority of them. Because if players had established relationships it will ruin the beginning, it will ruin the panic, confusion, and distrust. At least in Xelqua’s not so humble opinion.

A couple weeks later Xenrai and Qanilu brought Xelqua a box full of papers. Files for each soul they chose. List of souls and the reason for them to be in. Bonds that Qanilu established between souls with thin red lines.

“Here you go, Xelqua,” Qanilu spoke sickeningly sweetly. Nothing new.

Xenrai leaned closer, pulling out some of the files and laying them down on the table in the neat piles and arrangements. They looked too happy. Their three eyes were glittering with sadistic satisfaction at the mere thoughts of what was about to come.

“Each and every single one has so much potential. It’s going to be a Greek tragedy, Xelqua,” Xenrai finished their arrangements. They looked almost proud. Almost.
Xelqua had satisfaction of knowing that the younger watcher wanted to impress him. He could feel the pride and anticipation in his mouth, the slightly salty taste on the tip of his tongue.

“Thank you,” Xelqua replied, looking at the files and lists. There were no names, not that any of them needed a name.

It was their food. Food didn’t deserve a name.

Qanilu sat down beside Xelqua, explaining why they stapled some files together. For example seraph and imp should be together since, despite Xelqua’s request, they grew up together, know each other, and yet seemed to get separated when they got older. A long game of possible betrayal, deep wounds, regrets, and hurt.

Or a tanuki hybrid and an elf. While tanuki itself was a good choice from Xenrai: impulse, intense emotions, a determination and arrogance that would lead him more than a moral compass; the elf was not so good. Nothing special. Too loyal, too good, too self-sufficient and happy. Very strong morals that will spoil the game. But according to Qanilu’s statement those two would be at war with each other exactly due to how different they are.

It did sound interesting, so without second thoughts Xelqua put those two pairs aside, in the pile that was a final selection.

Since this was a test run, the higher ups did not allow the entire list that Xenrai and Qanilu provided to go through, letting only 13 people: a cursed, unlucky number. Xelqua needed to cut the list short and trust his gut on what would work well.

And the entire time he was discussing his choices and opinions with Qanilu and Xenrai. The younger one almost looked too happy to be included. Both of the blonde watchers couldn’t help but notice how Xenrai was borderline mimicking Xelqua’s posture or how their wings would quiver whenever Xelqua was pleased with their choices.

It took a couple of attempts. There were a lot of good souls that got cut short: a smart engineering vampire, an allay that goes a bit out of her nature and is married to that tanuki (bonus points for potential betrayals), a lone wolf hybrid with sharp teeth that bore into the ones she loves, a herbivore that is a skilled fighter, a goat hybrid with insane ideas and so much more…

But eventually the choice was finalised, files submitted, souls stolen and placed in the world of Xelqua’s creation.

And now, in front of Xelqua, in unconscious slumber, stood 13 mortals, nothing more than food bags to him. A canary, just a sacrifice. Two elves, one loyal puppet and another one that will be a problem for their tastebuds. A fox with overly strong tendencies to not stay loyal to anyone but himself. A glare hybrid with a strong sense of judgement and chaos. An imp and a seraph, who grew up together despite social opinions. A spiteful zombie. A creaking with big potential to stab his loved ones in the back with a terrifying smile. A con artist vex. A blazeborn with bright burning rage. A tanuki with intense emotions and crazy gleam in his eyes. And in all this mix of a disaster, betrayal, conflicts and misfits there is one loyal dog.

It was Xenrai’s idea to put a loyal pup into the mix. The man was doomed to be betrayed.

Xelqua hoped that the dog would win. He would suffer the most from the victory.

And with that last thought, Xelqua left third life, returning to the void to let the game start and just observe, just wait. Just watch.

And wait.

And watch.

“They don’t suffer…” an empty, almost pouty voice called out from behind Xelqua. Three purple eyes stared at the portal, ignoring the watcher sitting beside it. “Is it not working?”

”It is. Just slow,” Xelqua responded, freeing up space next to him for Xenrai. And a younger watcher sat by him, resting their head on the blonde man’s shoulder.

“Can’t we speed it up? Didn’t you involve the elf I suggested?” A smaller one still didn’t move their gaze from the portal, waving their hands around to try to find their ‘contribution’ in this window. Eventually the portal showed an elf in a green shirt, mining away.

“I was specifically told to not interfere with their game and don’t show up to their eyes,” Xelqua now waved his hand, showing other players. Most of them were in the mines and it was killing him with boredom.

“As a watcher,” Xenrai stated. It was a fact, not a question. Xelqua briefly frowned, catching himself before the smaller one would notice. He never mentioned that part to them. “What if you show up as a disaster? A natural occurrence?”

“They are too careful. Look at them. They’re making bonds and friends, dancing around the stupid disc. Even if I do something like that, it’s risking only wasting more of my energy,” Xelqua waved the hand towards the portal, showing a group of people who were indeed having fun. Neither of the watchers looked pleased.

“Gross…” Xenrai whispered. Xelqua agreed with them in his mind. The taste in their mouths was bitter, almost acrid, making both of the watchers want to wash their mouths.

“Call me when something interesting happens with your toys.” The little spy stood up and left. At least Xelqua was sure Xenrai wasn’t here to just look at the progress. They loved gossip, loved secrets, loved knowing more than anyone and keeping such information as blackmail. So Xelqua was just playing it safe.

However, what also happened amidst this interrogation opened Xelqua’s eyes on the restrictions. He was prohibited to interfere as a watcher. So if players won’t know he is one, it should be fine. He can direct the game from inside of it, causing chaos, doubts, misery without actually using any of his powers. Except for the shapeshifting, of course.

It was stupid. An irrational and questionable thought. It could backfire, horribly. What even body would suit him the most? Xelqua didn’t want to lose his ability to fly. So it must be a bird. Birds fly, right? Avians do as far as Xelqua knows. He really should’ve paid more attention to the entire mortal disguise thing when they got taught.

No point in dwelling on the past. Xelqua looked around, trying to ensure that no one saw him.

The top two eyes turned into the eyebrow, wings on shoulders and waist were gone, the black feathers turned brown like a hermit thrush and his own eyes stopped shining purple, turning void like black.

The legs were a hard change. Bird feet operated differently and it almost made Xelqua want to give up on the idea. The talons were catching on the ground, the feeling of constantly walking on the toes was weird. Tiring even.

The feathers itching on the face and across the entire body were annoying. Tickling, distracting even. Xelqua had already accidentally scratched his cheeks until they bled, trying to pull out the feathers. No use, obviously.

Xelqua gave up. He turned back into his original 4 dimensional self and just rested on the floor by the portal, waiting for the upcoming doom of being a failure.

This, very well, might end his life. If this fails he will be turned into the food himself.

Throughout the next day, Xelqua observed how players move. With how happy every player was, no watcher wanted to come closer. Xelqua didn’t blame them. The taste was terrible. But he was grateful for this opportunity to practice shapeshifting more. The walking, the sitting, the use of the tail when flying, the pants and sweater… All that, surprisingly, was a hard change. It took way more time to get used to than Xelqua wanted to admit.

But now he can pass as a player. He can play the role. Gain players’ trust and then crush it. It would be fun. It would be even better than just observing.

With the last bit of doubt getting pushed back, Xelqua stepped through the portal, appearing in the village. Not entirely alone. There was a group of people already. The zombie, glare, imp, vex… Not a bad start. If he can turn a zombie's spite onto someone, he can start a war.

Xelqua flapped his, now only two, wings, flying close to the ground. He regretted not learning how to act as an empathetic and caring food sack along with Qanilu and Xenrai back when they were just hatchlings, but it can’t be that hard.

The so-called avian flew into the zombie, hugging them. That’s what mortals do, right? He tried to make the most sad looking face he could master, looking up at them.

“I’ve been alone…” Xelqua realised a problem only after he saw the wide eyes of the group and felt the honey taste of the confusion.

“I thought we’d met everyone already,” The glare hybrid chimed in, leaning forward to take a closer look at the newly arrived avian. Xelqua tensed up, letting go of the zombie and jumping back.

“We did meet another avian, but that one was taller and with golden wings,” The imp spoke up next, rudely, in Xelqua’s opinion. How dare they compare him to some food bag like that canary?

“Oh, guys, you’re scaring our birdie here,” a surprisingly soft and warm voice spoke up. The vex moved closer, putting an arm around Xelqua’s shoulders as if he knew him. The watcher was confused. Why did the vex stand up for him? A trick? Surely. “He probably just ran off the second he woke up. I, honestly, thought of doing the same. It’s just a good thing that I recognised you all.”

“Recognise?” Xelqua asked without thinking it through. How did they recognise each other? From where did they recognise each other? Their home worlds didn’t intersect or match with each other, they shouldn’t know each other…

That’s what went wrong. That’s why they were so calm and comfortable.

They were not strangers as Xelqua anticipated.

“Yeah, buddy, we’re all from the same place,” The imp spoke, also warmly. Xelqua recognised that tone of voice whenever he haunted kids. The adult in charge of said child would speak to them in such a manner.

“Hopefully Xisuma pulls us out before this place turns into ash,” The zombie cackled. Their smile was sharp and confident, their vibrant green eyes had some cruelty to them.

The conversation kept going. The chatter and laughter filled in the field, creating this awful acrid taste in Xelqua’s mouth to the point that he wanted to tear his tongue out. But that wasn’t his problem right now.

While players were having fun Xelqua’s mind was racing, their voices becoming a background noise that was way too easy to ignore. ‘Xisuma’. That’s a void based name. A watcher? They knew a watcher? No. The higher ups wouldn’t let a watcher be friendly with mortals.

Then must be a runaway or a voidwalker. Whatever they were it explained how players knew each other and why it didn’t show up on their files.

Xelqua’s line of thoughts got interrupted by the feeling of a gentle squeeze on his shoulder. He could feel the warmth next to him more definitively now. He felt the fluff of the vex’s jacket against his face and the warm voice that was too close to his ear holes to ignore.

“You think we can convince Zoom Zoom to adopt another few?” Vex smirked, pulling Xelqua closer to himself. The watcher felt uncomfortable at such proximity.

“I don’t need adoption. I’m an adult,” Xelqua frowned, pushing vex away and quivering his wings as if to shake off the scent of the taller player. The vex raised his hands in mock surrender and stepped back, still having the same smug expression as if he knew something.

That’s when another hand landed on Xelqua’s shoulder, making him tense up and pull wings closer to the body. His attention was dragged away again. Why were those lowly creatures so touchy?

“Don’t worry, Scar’s here just trying to be funny. I don’t think Xisuma wants anymore people to look after,” The zombie spoke with some bite to their voice. Xelqua felt like they would be a good watcher, but alas, they were not born lucky.

Xelqua ignored the name. Or rather what he assumed was a nickname. It didn’t matter anyway. They were just food. No point in learning their names.

And as if reading his thoughts, the glare hybrid leaned closer, brightly smiling with all his flat teeth. Did a herbivore try to scare Xelqua with such a pitiful display?

“Anyway! I’m Bdubs! What’s your name, pal?”

Xelqua didn’t know what to say. The first reaction was, of course, to just deny them his name, to say that they do not deserve to utter his name between their pathetic lips, but that would ruin his reputation. He needed to earn their trust first. To make them treat him as equal and reliable sources, only to puppet and eventually break them. So he must give a name.

His actual name, however, would reveal his belonging to the creatures of the void. Especially considering that they knew someone named ‘Xisuma’. And if it’s not a voidwalker but a watcher, some rat, then they might know that Xelqua is behind their capture.

He really didn’t think of a fake name before getting into this. He didn’t think it would be necessary. He forgot that those lower life forms use names for everything. That it’s something common. Regular. Mundane and not something you need to deserve.

Xelqua was silent for too long. So he blurted out the first thing he saw.

“Um… grain?” His voice slightly failed, making the second part almost incoherent to others.

“Did you say Grian or Grain?” The vex chimed in, smiling goofy and almost stupidly. Did they actually pull into this game the correct person? Wasn’t he supposed to be cunning? To be sly? Why did he look and act like a naive fool?

“Grian. It would be idiotic if my name was something like grain,” Xelqua, now Grian, immediately jumped onto the opportunity to sound normal, mortal.

“Rude. My name is Scar, so I wouldn’t have mocked you for a silly name,” The vex offered his hand, brightly smiling and showing off his canines. Was it a threat? Xelqua knew it as a threat. Vexes were not past eating other sentient beings as long as they had magic and watchers had a lot of it. “Nice to meet ya, Grian.”

Slightly confused and still not used to this idiotic name, Xelqua extended his hand. Not quite as Scar. Less confidently, more elegantly so to say.

“Yeah… Nice to meet you… Scar…” Grian almost shivered as he said the name. Gross. Those creatures were beneath him. He shouldn’t address them by their names. They didn’t deserve them.

“Wow, you sounded absolutely miserable when you said this,” The vex pouted, taking his hand away after a brief shake.

“Maybe he’s afraid of vexes, Scar, you can’t blame him. In such an environment you are quite a danger,” The imp chimed in, patting vex on the shoulder. A motion of comfort or so it seems.

“Oh, Impulse, that’s an avian. I won’t eat him,” The vex, Scar, Grian reminded himself, smirked. Something was off. Too off. Why did his thoughts even go into the direction of feeding? “Our birdie here has no magic.” It sounded like a taunt, a mockery, definitely.

Xelqua’s wings puffed up, he wanted to protest. Watchers were powerful magical creatures. Watchers had more magic than vex can digest. His words were insulting… But it's true. Xelqua was a watcher. But to those players he wasn’t Xelqua. He was Grian. An avian. And avians had no magic in their body.

But it still was weird that a vex wouldn’t feel his magic. Maybe he was a weak hybrid? Too little of vex genetics in his blood?

“Scar, I’m worried that you even considered it already…” Imp hybrid spoke, rubbing the bases of his yellow horns. His tail was twitching, breaking the grass patch near the group.

“Unfortunately, I didn’t have food for a couple of weeks already. I’m just being responsible in order not to feast on you all,” Scar chuckled, looking at Grian with a small glow to his eyes. “But you won’t be mad if I ate you, right, bird-?”

Scar got cut off by a smack on the back of his head. The zombie looked annoyed, but not angry. They started to scold vex, along with the imp hybrid.

The glare hybrid, whose name Xelqua didn’t bother to remember before, pulled the fake avian aside.

“Sorry about my friend, Grian,” The leaf-haired man glanced over his shoulder and shook his head.

Grian was seeing how zombie’s and imp’s faces were frowning, how vex’s face looked guilty.

But he couldn’t taste it. He didn’t feel the chocolate-flavoured taste of anger, he didn’t feel the caramel sweetness of guilt. He felt a bitter taste of happiness and it confused him.

“Scar has a habit of making deals even if it doesn’t sound like one. Just don’t say anything to him if his eyes start to glow,” The glare hybrid continued to talk. That seemed like important and useful information that you should hide from others. It’s such a weapon to be abused. Making a deal with vex will put a tie on you to oblige and follow through on that deal.

“Why are you telling me this?” Grian couldn’t help but wonder. “You don’t know me. We’re in a death game. Your friend has such a big potential to abuse this power and you are just telling me that? I might have plans to kill you all.”

The glare hybrid confidently smiled and closed his eyes, shaking the head full of leaves.

“Oh, Grian… That’s what they want you to believe. We have no intention of killing anyone. Surely if this goes wrong they’d let us out.”

Xelqua scoffed, puffing out his wings and newly formed tail. A new motion he needed to remember to do. No intention of killing anyone? That was ridiculous. Xelqua made sure they had no options. Eventually something will go wrong. The accident will happen, someone will get close to death and turn hostile.

But even if everything would go perfectly for them, if no one would ever lose their lives, Xelqua knew they wouldn't leave. Watchers wouldn’t get bothered with letting them go home. It would be a waste of energy to do so. They would be here trapped forever or turn onto each other and kill.

Because the only way out is through death. Or, well, if you’re a watcher, you can just walk out.

“You clearly are a bunch of naive idiots,” Xelqua snapped. His outburst grabbed everyone’s attention. “You think-“ He cut himself off. Xelqua knew all that. Grian didn’t. He needed to change his tone, his wording. He needed to play as clueless as they actually are.

“You really think that it would be that easy..?” Xelqua tried to sound desperate. Grian sounded desperate.

Xelqua tasted the creamy sweetness in his mouth. Despair, hopelessness. None of the players responded. Xelqua held back a sadistic smirk that was itching to creep in onto his face.

This would be fun. This would be so fun for him. It would be so easy to break them. Xelqua would ensure that it wouldn’t be easy for them. And to start the downfall of their plan he needs to push someone down to their death, for rule to work and for primal instincts to kick in.

Out of everyone the vex would be the best choice. A carnivorous, sly creature that already admitted to getting hungry. The plan had changed: no more long games. Grian would personally ensure that vex forgot about his humanity as soon as possible.

Chapter Text

Turns out it didn’t take much convincing to make Scar lean into his vex nature. To be fair Xelqua barely did anything. Just provided the man with an opportunity to set it all ablaze.

Or rather just one tree. The fox hybrid, whose name Grian bothered to remember, Etho, tasted absolutely delicious. His silver tail was swinging, his ears slightly lowered and turned back.

Unfortunately, though, Etho seemed to set his eye on Grian. Perhaps instinctively thinking of a bird as an easier target than a vex. Xelqua should’ve thought that openly nudging another person to commit arson will affect his reputation as well.

Before Grian could react a larger hand grabbed his own, pulling him into a run. Away from the village, from the delicious chocolate flavour of rage. What stayed consistent was an acrid taste and joyful laughter of the vex.

And only after Scar and Grian were running for a while, Xelqua bothered to question what just happened. They were running away from the confrontation, from the potential feast for him. From the potential success of his game.

Xelqua abruptly stopped, for the first time feeling glad for the talons on his bird legs. The feeling of dirt and grass tugging onto the flesh was more than just uncomfortable but he didn’t care.

“What are you doing?” The vex spoke before Grian could. “You don’t want to get mauled by Etho, right?”

“But I didn’t do anything wrong! It was you!” Xelqua puffed his wings. He forgot about the tail this time. Only when he noticed Scar snickering, Xelqua realised his mistake. Shamefully he puffed those feathers too.

“Okay, let me explain this to you, birdbrains. Etho is angry. It’s good that you’re learning this on Etho, he’s pretty cool, but anger blinds people,” Scar looked behind Grian for a moment, as if checking the surroundings. The vex placed his hands on the shoulders of the shorter man. “Out of everyone here, you’re an outcast. We don’t know you. Etho would’ve lashed out at you.”

Xelqua pressed his wings tighter to his back. Why did this sound so… diminishing, like Xelqua was a child who needed guidance. Do mortals have such conversations all the time?

“Birdie, just relax and have fun. We’re stuck here for a foreseeable future, you don’t know anyone here. I’m offering you a safe ride, basically,” Scar took a step back, fixing his hat. “I promise, you’re safe with me,” The man gave a soft smile and started walking through the flower forest.

“Your eyes didn’t glow…” Grian mumbled, falling into a step behind Scar.

“I see you’ve been told about that already. Or did you know that on your own?” The vex smirked, but not sharply or mockingly. Just playfully, almost warmly.

“I knew that, but your friends also rated you out,” Grian huffed. Maybe causing distrust between players would help to ruin their mood. Unfortunately for Xelqua, the acrid taste in his mouth didn’t disappear.

“Ah, nah, I’m not keeping it a secret anyway,” Scar glanced at Grian. “What’s the fun in playing this game unfair?”

“You’re not even planning on playing it,” Xelqua crossed his arms. The dirt under his feet turned drier and drier until eventually it became sand.

Scar took off his jacket, tying the thing around his hips. It was night, it wasn’t that hot in the desert.

“We’re not planning on killing anyone. A bit of mischief or friendly trade war wouldn’t hurt. It’ll keep us occupied,” The vex stopped amidst the desert and started to look around. “I’m finding it fun to meet new people. Don’t you?”

Xelqua didn’t know what to respond. Again. What Xelqua and Grian would respond are different things. Xelqua didn’t think that meeting new people was fun. He found it exhausting. But Grian probably would. Scar found it fun. Scar was a mortal and so far the only source of information for Grian.

Unlike with the name catastrophe, Xelqua didn’t feel rushed. Scar didn’t seem to push for an answer. The vex was just humming a quiet tune. His eyes weren’t as aloof as before. Grian could see a predatory calculation and it calmed the watcher down a bit. Perhaps it was the right vex from a file Xenrai gave him. Perhaps not everything went wrong.

“I wasn’t lying,” Scar whispered, seemingly out of nowhere. He returned his emerald eyes to Grian. “I know my reputation isn’t the best, but I wasn’t lying about your safety. I just can’t tie myself to such a promise when I can’t even keep myself safe.”

“A vex with morals? Don’t make me laugh,” Grian shook his head, trying to sound sarcastic.

“Morals? No, no. Well, maybe. It’s hard to keep your nature when you’re surrounded by people that love and care about you.” The vex adjusted his hat, hiding his eyes. Grian for some reason could taste a sweet aftertaste to the usually acrid happiness of Scar.

“Ugh, right, you believe in such nonsense, don’t you?” Xelqua felt a bit too comfortable for his own good. He spoke without thinking, barking out his beliefs that he knew were contradicting with players’ beliefs.

But instead of getting offended or angry, Scar just laughed.

“You mean love and care? Gosh, where are you from to not believe in such things?” The vex looked across the desert for the last time. Grian didn’t respond. Scar didn’t seem to expect an answer anyway. “Let’s go back. Etho probably cooled off and I definitely want to show you that love and care are real,” The taller man started walking, expecting Grian to just follow.

But Xelqua was stubborn. Even prideful. He wasn’t about to be ordered around by some lower creature. So he didn’t follow Scar. The watcher took a look over the desert.

A horrible place to live in. It was cold, and the moon wasn’t even that high yet. And at day it would be scorching hot. Xelqua knew it, because he made this world. He made this desert as an empty wasteland, to foreshadow what will come. To be fair, Xelqua tried to make this world as horrible as possible to live in, choosing the most awful, annoying, or useless places: desert, swamp, flower forest, dark oak forest.

Grian’s wings automatically got pressed closer to himself, wrapping around his body to keep warm. His black eyes darted over the sand for the last time. Cacti, lava pools, golden sand and a mountain made out of it, and a set of purple eyes.

Grian’s wings flapped, pushing him in the air. He should not be here, he knows that. And the fact that another watcher was in the game, staring at him… Xelqua felt uneasy. He didn’t want to have a confrontation. Not now. He didn’t do anything wrong. Not yet at least.

Grian’s wings kept him in the air as he caught up to Scar, landing down beside him. Surely whoever was in the desert would leave him alone if a player is nearby.

“You’re shivering,” Scar pointed out, tilting his head ever so slightly. “Are you cold?”

“Cold?” Xelqua repeated. More to himself, to hear the question. The watcher looked around, trying to see if he would spot the set of purple eyes. He didn’t. “Yes, I’m cold…” Grian added after a moment.

The vex hummed, pulling off his jacket and giving it to Grian. The avian just stared at the furred leather.

“It’s useless,” Grian looked at Scar.

“No it’s not! It’s very warm and actually quite durable. It can even protect you from scratches or cuts!”

“Vex, it doesn’t have holes on the back,” Grian smirked.

“Oh…” Scar softly laughed. His green eyes jumped from the jacket to Grian’s face and then to his wings. “Yeah, I see the problem now. Uh… Just cut it.”

Grian shook his head. Not as a denial, but out of confusion.

“Pardon me?”

“Use your claws. Just cut it there and there,” Scar leaned closer, pausing his step. The dusty blue fingers started to draw out 2 lines on the back of the jacket. “That way your back would be covered but you can stick your wings through.”

That was actually useful. Xelqua forgot that he now had claws as well. But it wasn’t his question.

“Why are you letting me ruin your jacket?”

“Oh. I won’t be needing it. I want to live in that desert,” Scar cheekily smiled.

Xelqua was baffled. Truly baffled. For multiple reasons. This vex was giving something up without any ties to it. There was no glow in his eyes, no deal: there wasn’t an established debt to pay or future gain. This action was absolutely wasteful for Scar. Even if he wasn’t planning on wearing this jacket anymore, giving it away to someone else… Someone who he doesn’t know, who can betray and backstab him…

It was foolish.

It was even more foolish because Scar decided to base in the place that Xelqua deemed uninhabitable and just terrible to live in. Was this vex a masochist?

Xelqua didn’t want to question any of that. He didn’t need that information to keep his plan going.

The claws sank through the leather and fur, cutting it with a bit of resistance. When Grian put Scar’s jacket on he heard a small, pushed down, laugh from the vex. The avian had a guess why. The jacket was big, Grian was small, but he didn’t care that he looked ridiculous. This three dimensional body was disgusting and ridiculous to begin with, he didn’t have much dignity left in his appearance. But the jacket was warm. And Xelqua preferred that.

Back at the village everything seemed to settle down. Xelqua no longer could taste anything remotely sweet or even bland. Just bitter flavours of happiness.

The entire scene was disgusting. There was a new face Grian hadn’t met yet. But it seemed that Scar, Etho and 4 others also didn’t know this elf as well as each other.

The elf, Martyn, spooked a couple of people, a pleasant fruity fuzzy taste and Xelqua couldn’t be more grateful for this soul. Xenrai was right, this elf seemed to be interested in communicating and understanding watchers.

Fear didn’t last long though. It was quick passing, changing into an acrid flavour of happiness again.

That’s when Xelqua’s eyes landed on old overgrown machinery that looked on the brink of explosion. His plan with the vex was taking too much time. Maybe if he scares them: makes it seem like they’re about to die, but not actually die… Maybe then some of them would lean into their nature and start this Greek tragedy.

Xelqua swore that was his plan. He wasn’t planning on taking anyone’s life. Simply because he should not be here. He should not affect the lives of these players to such an extent.

So when vex’s back and head were blown open, when his body fell down, when six… no, seven sets of eyes stared at Grian, Xelqua felt panic. Not because of the six pairs of eyes in front of him, but due to the set of purple eyes in the treeline. Sadistically smiling, waiting for Xelqua to run off and get punished for breaking his own game and rules.

Xelqua could just focus on Xenrai, standing far away in the shadows. On their twisted smile that told him enough: this would be told to others. Not out of malice but simply because Xenrai won’t lie to anyone.

Xelqua needed to find a way to fix this mistake. To ensure that Scar wouldn’t get out of the game before he would’ve.

When Xenrai waved goodbye and disappeared, Xelqua moved his gaze to Scar’s body. Or rather no longer body. Xelqua hated himself in this moment, hated how he made multiple lives for players.

He made this rule to get more suffering. To give more room for backstabbing, literally and figuratively. And he would be lying if he said that he didn’t enjoy the fruity fizzy taste in his mouth from 6 other players along with the maple syrupy sweetness of Scar’s agonising pain.

But watching how vex’s body pulls itself together, how skin stretches over the muscle tissue and bones, how the skull makes cracking sounds as it regrows… Xelqua hated himself for how graphic he made coming back to life.

Etho and Cleo were there to help Scar up. The fox hybrid helped the vex stand, while the zombie was assisting the man’s health.

Xelqua noticed how the imp held Tango to the side while blazeborn emptied his stomach.

The elf was frozen, staring at the scene with wide eyes.

And the glare was the only one to verbally address the situation and break the silence. Xelqua could taste the chocolate flavour from him.

“Are you crazy?” Bdubs yelled, pushing Grian in the shoulder. Xelqua didn’t fight back. His mind wasn’t fully there to get offended by this. “You killed him! This was a full on murder. We all witnessed that!”

“Bdubs…” Scar groaned, rubbing the back of his head.

“Bdubs, please be quiet,” Cleo chimed in. They glanced at Etho, checking if he would be able to attend to Scar by himself. The fox nodded, taking more of Scar’s weight on himself.

The zombie stepped closer and suddenly Xelqua felt like he looked: a small pathetic bird.

“I’m sorry. I truly didn’t mean to…” Grian was stuttering. He looked at Scar. The vex was still trying to get back to his senses, his back now just a big scarred surface. “I just wanted to have fun like that elf…”

“Hey! I have a name!” Martyn yelled, but a quick glance from Cleo made him wince. “And don’t blame me. I was just making noises similar to explosions, not… Actual explosions,” he continued in a quiet voice.

Grian didn’t know what to do. Xelqua didn’t know what to do.

“Can I talk to the vex..?” He whispered, looking at Cleo. They looked the most intimidating to the watcher.

“The vex? You killed him and you won’t even be respectful?” The zombie crossed their arms. It looked like Grian ruined his chance to gain the players’ trust and now, most likely, returning to the void will result in a punishment.

And it would be good if the only thing Xelqua would lose would be one pair of wings.

“It’s fine, Cleo. I’m also calling him birdie,” Scar still tasted like maple syrup. Xelqua couldn’t ignore that. But at least he was standing by himself, even walking.

Xelqua can heal him. A small thing for now, he just needs to get closer… And preferably without any witnesses. Grian shouldn’t have any magic.

“Ve,” Xelqua cut himself, clearing his throat. The word wouldn’t leave his mouth. He was above that, above them. But sharp glares from the zombie, fox, imp, and glare forced the word out of Grian’s throat. “Scar, can I talk to you in private..?”

“No way!” Bdubs jumped between Scar and Grian. But the taller man just put his hand on the shoulder of a leaf-headed one. With a pout, the glare stepped away.

“You can, Grian,” Scar spoke, starting to walk. Not out of the view but out of the earshot of others. Grian obediently followed.

And when they were far enough for no one to hear them, even for fox and elf to not hear them, Xelqua stopped in his tracks, turning to face Scar.

“I want to make it up to you. I took your life, I shouldn’t have to, but I did. It’s a terrible mistake on my part. So, in return, I will be there for you, my life is now yours,” Xelqua hid his hands in wings. The fingers started their usual dance, adding himself as a player, to apply the rules to himself as well.

Scar’s eyes started to glow cyan. Xelqua knew what was coming and he couldn’t really complain.
“Let me get this straight. You are offering your life to me? Will every one of my commands be obliged by you?”

“Yes,” Xelqua knew he was tying himself by the magic not even watchers can avoid or break. “Until I lose my first life I’m in your service. Every one of your commands is an order that I will be obliged to obey.”

Scar’s smile turned sharp, his hand shot out to grab Grian’s hand, squeezing it painfully tightly.
“Call it a deal, birdie. My first order of business: stop calling all of us by our species. We have names,” The vex coldly whispered. Xelqua couldn’t understand if this came from some deeply suppressed anger and animosity that he couldn’t taste or something else.

“You can’t be serious. That is your first order, v,” Xelqua felt like his throat suddenly closed. He could breathe, sure, but the utter panic filled him due to the sudden fake suffocating sensation. Grian’s wings started flapping, too frantic to actually get in the air.

And while this was happening, Scar was just watching, smiling with sick satisfaction.

“Good to see the deal is working, birdie,” The vex leaned forward, holding Grian’s wrists so the avian wouldn’t be able to scratch his throat open. “Use my name, Grian.”

“This sucks, Scar!” Xelqua yelled. As the disgusting name left his mouth the suffocation feeling was gone as well.

“Yeah, it’s not my choice of punishment though. It’s an automatic response for verbal break of the deal,” Scar chuckled, letting go of Grian. “Now, let’s go. We need to start gathering resources if we want to live in the desert.”

“I don’t want to live there. It’s terrible! It’s blinding, hot and cold!”

“And it’s your order. You’re living with me and I want to live in the desert.” Scar interrupted Grian’s outburst.

Grian couldn’t refuse anymore. He didn’t want to learn what kind of punishment happened for physical break of the deal with the vex.

Gladly this deal had a time limit. He just needs to die.

“Oh,” Scar stopped in his tracks and turned to Grian. He zipped the jacket around the avian’s shoulders. “Before you get any ideas: you’re not allowed to take your own life. No sacrifices, no fake accidents, no tricks into trying to convince others to end your life. You are not allowed to affect your lifespan in any way. That’s an order. Got it?” Scar’s emerald eyes were laser focused on the void in Grian’s eyes.

Xelqua nodded. It was a well worded order. He couldn’t find a loophole in it. There must be one, surely. But vexes were known for their silver tongue and natural wordplays.

Xelqua never bothered to learn anything about mortals or anything beyond how to use watcher’s magic to its maximum.

And now he was paying the price.

Chapter Text

The vex abused the deal to its fullest. At first, it wasn’t anything big. Help to name a llama, which was ironic, considering that Xelqua still didn’t grasp the concept of non-void-based names. It was also the avian’s job to make a safe house for Pizza. At that point Xelqua felt like he was a caregiver for a child who got a pet.

But to give Scar credit, the man was feeding and taking care of the llama with full dedication. He was even cutting its fur, though Grian had no clue where the cut-off fur was going. Perhaps just getting thrown away.

However, when resources got tight and it became clear to the players that this whole situation would continue for more than a day or two, then Scar’s orders became more frequent and demanding. Grian was running errands and helping with the construction of their base.

It’d become a necessity for everyone to get some sort of shelter. On one of the outings, Grian started to notice the support beams or just walls being put in place. Campfires and sleeping bags no longer seemed to cut it for the players anymore.

On a negative note, everyone still looked at Grian with hatred. It was good for him to not starve, but since he was now stuck with them… Well, perhaps someone would take revenge and this deal would end.

Every time the duo of the vex and the watcher, disguised as an avian, would get back to the Monopoly Mountain (Scar’s name), they worked on their shelter as well. Thankfully, Xelqua had chosen a disguise with wings, so building wasn’t that hard.

Building went even better when Scar went off to negotiate or check that no one was stealing the sand, because when Grian was alone, he could use his magic to its fullest. Manipulating the matter and building the entire castle with just a wave of his hand felt good.

It had been a week since Xelqua got himself into this trouble. His hands were itching to do something, to use magic. He felt like he was getting weaker the longer he denied that itch.

So building the base was nice. Xelqua looked down from the mountain to ensure that no little spies were around. Not just players. The watcher was actually more concerned to spot a set of purple eyes.

But the castle was done, no one was spying and Xelqua still had a desire to unleash the pent-up energy. So he decided that the mountain needed stairs. The avian didn’t want to fly Scar up and down every single time.

Scar didn’t return until it was nighttime. Somehow he managed to gather a lot of valuables. Armour, weapons, all carved out with a language that Grian pretended not to know. Avians didn’t tend to know the language of magic.

“This is huge,” Scar mused, looking around. “I knew avians were good at making nests, but I was expecting something smaller.”

“You said a base, not a nest. I thought a castle on top of the mountain would do the best.” The blonde man shrugged his shoulders. The night air of the desert was cooling down quickly and Grian zipped up Scar’s jacket around himself again.

“Sandcastle,” The vex mocked, walking in. And that’s when the amused shine in his eyes disappeared.

There was no interior. Xelqua wasn’t sure what they would need or what mortals even had in their homes, so he left it empty. Well, almost empty.

There was a table and two chairs, clearly they wouldn't be having any guests. There was something that resembled the kitchen. Scar visibly scoffed at that, noticing that it was just that: a resemblance. The oven had no place for fire, no way to actually cook anything. It looked like a really good painted rock. Perhaps because Xelqua saw ovens exactly like that. He never really needed to use one before.

Scar walked over to the table, setting down his ‘treasures’. He had this idiotically warm smile, one that made Xelqua feel small and weak. He hated it.

“Birdie, you are so adorably stupid,” the vex leaned on the table. He waved Grian over, searching through the pile of shiny things. “I’ll spare you the trouble of decorating our home, so don’t worry your bird brains about it. I like working on interior design anyway.”

Xelqua’s steps across the wooden floor were quiet. He grew used to the bird feet and no longer struggled with the talons.

“I’ve met up with the other avian here,” Scar started again, grabbing Grian’s hand and pulling him closer. By this point, Xelqua had already learned that the vex was too comfortable with physical contact. And unfortunately for the watcher, he couldn’t say anything against it.

“His name is Jimmy. He’s basing with one of the elves, Scott,” Scar’s hands were warm as he helped to put some armour on Grian. Nothing too special, mostly to cover forearms. But then Scar pulled out some sort of clippers for the wings.

It was a small and elegant thing, there to cover the joints in the wings. Grian watched in awe as Scar’s dusty-blue fingers carefully adjusted metal sheets to his wings.

“Jimmy taught me how to take care of wings. I traded them sand access for the armour for you,” Scar finished his work.

Xelqua’s first instinct was to test how comfortable it would be to flap his feathery limbs. When he felt little to no restraint, he smiled.

“Now no one can shoot your joints.” There was this annoying physical contact that the avian still didn’t understand the reason for. Scar had his hand around Grian’s, drawing circles into his skin. “I was told that it’s easy to get them permanently damaged if you get the right shot. Wouldn’t want you to lose your moving ability,” The vex snickered.

Xelqua didn’t see it as care. Not that he believed in it. It was just a long play for Scar. Grian’s wings were just as powerful a tool in this death game as the vex’s magic.

Grian was the only one who could actually fly. It wasn’t the intention when they picked out souls for this game. Even more, no one had bothered to check how clean the blood of Scar and Jimmy was. Both Scar and Jimmy could’ve been able to fly and it wouldn’t be against the rules.

But it didn’t happen. Scar didn’t even have visible wings and Jimmy’s were too small for him to even glide. Useless.

Dangerous even.

Xelqua had noticed it. Scar clarified it later, after falling determinedly down a deep stair. Nothing that would cause an injury, just a pathetic scene. Probably out of embarrassment for such a stupid action.

A phantom wing syndrome. That’s what, according to Scar, everyone who is supposed to be able to fly has. Even if you never were able to. Your body, your instincts feel like you can fly. Your mind tricks you into forgetting that big jumps or deep falls are something to be avoided if you just spread your wings.

In Scar’s case there were no wings at all. But it didn’t stop his body from feeling like he could break the fall and gracefully step down from a high ground.

So of course Scar would want to keep Grian’s wings safe. So he can abuse them.

“Did you make beds?” Scar let go of Grian’s hand. He stood up from the table, taking off his hat and setting it aside.

Beds.

That’s another thing Xelqua totally forgot about. Not because he didn’t need sleep, but because he was too busy trying to make the entry room look normal.

Apparently Grian’s face told Scar what he needed to know, because the warmly lit room got filled with equally warm laughter.

“I guess, I’d better get our blankets,” The vex mused.

“I can make a nest out of them. It should be more comfortable and warmer,” Grian pressed his wings closer to his back. This was embarrassing.

“A nest...?” Scar paused in his tracks, looking at Grian with wide eyes. He frowned for a moment. A brief, barely noticeable. If not for the honey on Xelqua’s tongue, he wouldn’t have noticed it. “I never slept in the nest.”

“There’s really nothing special about it,” Grian flapped his wings, moving across the room quickly. He grabbed their two blankets from the chest and flew to the corner, settling them down. One as an isolation layer from the floor and another one as a soft border on the side without a wall.

“That’s the laziest nest I've ever seen,” The vex commented. It didn’t seem to stop him from getting ready for bed.

“That’s all you get with the resources we have. If you were to save all that fur from Pizza…” Xelqua didn’t risk calling anything by anything but its actual name. He didn’t want to experience choking again. “We might’ve had pillows and more blankets by this point.”

Scar stiffened. The vex shook his head and climbed into the nest, closer to the wall. Was he saving space for Grian?

“How much fur do you think llamas produce in a week?” Scar teased. Grian took off the armour and climbed into the nest as well.

“I don’t know. Probably enough to make something,” The avian got forcibly turned around. His back now exposed to Scar and the vex’s hands started to carefully spread Grian’s wings.

“Something, huh? Well, I’ll let you know, I am doing something.”

Grian could feel how Scar’s fingers were moving through his feathers. It was a comfortable sensation that Xelqua hadn’t felt since he turned fourteen.

The comfort and warmth made the watcher stop bickering. He silently sat in the nest, letting Scar preen his wings until eventually both men fell asleep.

The reason why Xelqua woke up less than an hour after was due to the bright purple glow above him.

There it was. A dreadful moment. Xenrai stood next to the nest, looming over Grian and Scar as they slept. Nothing unusual for them but unsettling nonetheless.

“Xelqua,” Xenrai started but quickly got shut down. The blonde man shot up from the nest, covering the younger watcher’s mouth with his palm.

Xenrai’s three eyes curved into that sly smile, but they didn’t resist. Silently both of the watchers left to the roof of this Sand Castle.

“Why are you here?” Xelqua whispered first. He wanted to ensure that he was safe, that Scar wouldn’t hear any of this.

“I just wanted to check on you. Their Grace is looking forward to seeing you again,” Xenrai sat on the railing, waving their legs in the air.

“Their… Grace...?” Xelqua felt a shiver run down his spine. This was terrible. Someone from high command was looking for him. It can’t be anything good. Not with what he had done, with how many rules he broke.

“I like how you taste, but it’s not that bad,” Xenrai’s eyes went back to their usual state: calm, empty, uncaring. “They didn’t look angry. Even after they learned you’re here.”

“You told them!” Xelqua puffed out his wings. His talons dug into the skin of his palms.

“They asked me. I wasn’t going to start lying,” Xenrai shrugged. The older watcher could see the uncaring, though a bit satisfied, smile. “Xelqua, you did this wonderful job. Don’t you worry. They do not mind it as long as you don’t kill our food.”

Xelqua winced. Xenrai leaned closer.

“They didn’t ask me if you killed anyone. Don’t worry, that mistake is kept a secret for now,” the younger one waited to be praised. Xelqua could see it.

However both of the watchers froze in place at the sound of another voice.

“Grian, are you alright?” Scar was standing on the ladder. He just turned around to look at his teammate and spotted another figure. Gladly for Xenrai they weren’t in any player disguise. They should appear to Scar just as a shadowy figure, like any watcher does to a player.

“Scar,” Grian started, trying to distract the vex from his companion. “I’m fine, just needed some fresh air.”

“Who is behind your wings?” Scar asked. His eyes didn’t glow though. Maybe because the vex was sleepy, but it wasn’t a command. Grian can lie.

“There’s no one, Scar,” Grian lowered his wings, hoping Xenrai would play along. And they did. They were gone from Scar’s view. “You just startled me. Go to sleep, Scar, I’ll be back soon.”

“Don’t you think about flying away,” Scar’s voice got stern, his eyes grew cyan. This was a command.

“I won’t,” Grian sighed and hurried Scar away. “Go back inside, Scar.”

And only after both of the watchers were sure that the vex was gone Xenrai started to talk.

“Scar is a fitting nickname for that one. I guess calling them by what they are would’ve been too obvious.”

“It’s… His name, actually,” Xelqua corrected the younger one. And that’s when he could feel the honey-chocolate flavour of emotions.

“You call it by the name..?” Xenrai stood up from the railing. The sweetness in Xelqua’s mouth was becoming unbearable.

“I’m forced to, Xenrai. I got into a deal with him,” The man tried to explain, to correct the situation.

“Void, I called it by the name,” Xenrai flapped their wings, getting in the air a bit. They looked disgusted, with themselves mostly.

Xelqua tried to follow. But as soon as he tried to flap his wings the agonising pain shot through his body. The deal. That stupid deal that he started to regret more and more.

The younger watcher hovered in the air, their gaze not focusing on anything in particular. Xelqua knew they were recalling everything they might’ve seen, tasted, heard.

And now he felt fear. Fear of not being misunderstood but being caught. And Xenrai seemed to pick up on that subtle difference in fruity taste.

Their eyes turned not just emotionless, they turned cold. And with that last glance the watcher was gone, presumably returning to the void.

Grian was on edge the following morning. Not only he didn’t know what was going on in the void among his kind, but Scar also seemed a bit more hostile.

The vex was barely talking, not even looking at Grian. There was this honey aftertaste coming from Scar, a confusion, but it wasn’t his main emotion.

The taller man tasted like barely sweet watery starch. Xelqua wasn’t a fan of this taste, but it wasn’t too bad. He just couldn’t understand where this neediness came from.

It didn’t get better when Grian and Scar arrived at the flower forest. Grian’s official first meeting of their new allies, as far as he understood.

It was a weird thing. Somehow, despite knowing most people from the other faction, closer to the taiga, Scar didn’t join them. If anything he managed to get into a fight over the enchantment table.

The vex waved it off as him being too comfortable with his friends, but it was still a weird situation to be in. And now it was even more weird considering that Scar was refusing to look at Grian or Scott for too long, mostly talking to Jimmy.

Speaking of the canary, the man was gushing over Grian, happy to finally meet another avian. The elf was setting his teammate straight multiple times, returning conversation to the topic at hand: the death game.

“We had a talk with Martyn,” The blue haired man had this soft yet serious voice. “He suspects the entire thing was created by watchers.”

“Yeah, I heard that opinion too. Maybe from Martyn himself,” Scar briefly looked at Grian before moving his gaze away to the plate in front of him.

It wasn’t much. It was barely anything. Bread with potatoes. Resources were ending. They all were running out of everything. Scar didn’t eat even this though.

“If that’s the case then The Game Master would want us to be miserable, right?” Jimmy chimed in.

“The Game Master?” Xelqua tilted his head. Was that a title these mortals made up for him? Grian barely kept the smug smile off his face.

“Didn’t Scar inform you? We agreed to call whoever’s behind this The Game Master,” The canary clarified, taking a bite out of his bread. Grian did the same. Not because he needed this type of food, but to look normal.

“We didn’t talk about this,” Scar brushed it off, pushing his plate off to the middle. Scott just nodded at that action and spread vex’s portion among three other men. “Whatever their name is, if they want our misery, they are really close to achieving their goal.”

Xelqua was both pleased and displeased at hearing that. He couldn’t understand why he didn’t enjoy the sweetness that was filling in the air though.

The rest of the lunch was the same. The conversations about peace, deals to ensure no side would betray the other, all that.

“Well, shall we exchange feathers to ensure trust?” Jimmy brightly smiled. Scott chuckled at that and only then Grian noticed that the elf had a bracelet out of golden feathers.

Why? Xelqua, for the love of him, couldn’t remember why avians did that. Why would they do it?

“I’d love to keep my birdie to myself,” Scar said, standing up. He looked at Grian, shaking his head in some sort of disapproval and amusement.

“Understandable. Our alliance is friendship, not family,” Scott chimed, while Grian was still confused. “I assume you two are also not close enough for such gifts?”

“I don’t know. Are we, birdie?” Scar looked at Grian with a mixture of emotions that Xelqua couldn’t understand. The vex tasted like a wild mix, too little of everything.

“I… Haven’t thought about it,” Grian replied. Not a lie, just not in the way others would understand. He genuinely didn’t think whatever those three were talking about. He simply didn’t know what they were discussing. Gifts, friendship, family, how all this came up from a topic of feathers?

The room felt silent. Scar bit a farewell and Grian shortly followed after him.

“You are a weird avian,” The taller man started to talk when they almost got back to the desert. “You make lazy nests, you don’t know about feather-giving culture, you don’t perch on high ground,” Scar listed off.

“How did perching get into this?”

“Jimmy told me. And I noticed that with False. But you don’t seem to even try to get on high ground.”

“Because there’s no need. We live on the mountain, Scar.”

“I’m taller than you. I can handle your weight,” Scar stopped, looking at Grian.

Xelqua froze in shock. There was this… almost cloying flavour on the tip of his tongue. And Xelqua hated it. He hated how intense Scar was looking at him.

“You want me to perch onto you?” Grian asked, subconsciously pressing wings tighter to his back before spreading them out.

“I want you to be comfortable with me. I’m not holding you hostage,” Scar stepped closer.

“But you are. I’m here because of your deal,” The avian protested. That much was true. Xelqua bound himself to the rules of the players, to ensure that he gained multiple lives, that serving Scar wouldn’t end up with him actually dying.

After all, outside of games no one had multiple lives. No one knew what it was like to die, so far only Scar, Skizz, and Bdubs did. And Xelqua had no desire to be the first to learn what the afterlife looks like.

“Grian, you offered that deal. I couldn’t pass on such an opportunity, it’s literally in my nature,” Scar squeezed his hands, looking away.

Amidst the golden sand, under the burning rays of sunlight, surrounded by nothing but cacti and lava pools, stood the stall Scar had made for Pizza. A simple structure where the llama lived for a week.

But there was no llama in that stall. Scar didn’t bother to listen or argue with Grian further; he just ran off to the structure.

Xelqua, still annoyed by the argument, flew after him. And as if to piss Scar off or prove him wrong, Grian perched on the vex’s shoulder.

“You didn’t close it?” The avian questioned, leaning forward a bit. This was the first time Grian was perching on someone. He didn’t know how to do it. His movements were stiff and his talons were digging into Scar’s flesh.

The taller man barely flinched. He just subconsciously raised his hand to support Grian, so the avian wouldn’t fall.

“I did,” The vex sounded pissed. He tasted like rich chocolate, so it checked out.

There was paper attached to the wall. Scar was staring at it with such animosity that Xelqua couldn’t help but smile, leaning closer to just get more of this delicious flavour.

“Someone took it?” Grian whispered, trying to add fuel to the fire.

“It’s Cleo’s handwriting,” Scar whispered back. The chocolate was now intertwined with cloying flavour that was too sweet for Xelqua.

But it was so good to know that his game was working. That the cogs were in place and turning. That the whole thing was going according to the plan and even better.

Because they all knew each other. They knew each other and now were backstabbing for the resources.

Scar didn’t go to the Crastle straightaway. For some reason he didn’t. Grian tried to nudge the vex in that direction, to plant the seeds of ideas to go take revenge, but Scar didn’t.

He didn’t leave Monopoly Mountain. He stayed in their base, in that stupid nest neither of them bothered to take apart and turn into the proper beds.

Xelqua, to be fully honest, didn’t want to stay at their base. He was wary of it, nervous, if not afraid, to see his own kind again. The game was working wonderfully, technically he had no reason to be punished.

But he did. He got into the game against the instructions, he took a life from a player, he was now calling those food bags by their names as if they are equal to him. There was a lot that Xelqua did wrong.

Another week had passed with Scar mainly working on their base. He redid the kitchen, so it now was actually functional. He decorated the interior with useless items like flower pots.

There were no flowers in them yet. Scar said he wanted to grow them out. It was a ridiculously long goal.

At the beginning of the third week the vex finally decided to leave the mountain, but ordered Grian to stay on the watch. Xelqua wanted to protest and offer to exchange places, but Scar refused.

Xelqua dreaded receiving visitors. Because he expected that it would be his own kind, they would be there to punish him.

But no. Climbing up the stairs that Grian made was the zombie, responsible for his teammate's drastic change of behaviour.

“Why are you here?” Grian flew down from the rooftop, perching in front of Cleo.

“To negotiate, honestly. I was expecting Scar to come to us, but it seems I’m forced to start it,” The zombie cackled, crossing their hands. They didn’t look intimidated by Grian. They didn’t taste like they were afraid at all.

“Scar is not here right now, Cleo, come later,” Grian stepped down from the fence, his talons digging into sand.

“Can’t I wait here? I’ll be a good guest if you’ll be a good host,” The redhead didn’t wait for an answer, pushing through the avian and getting inside. When Grian tried to protest they just smirked. “I’d be careful, Grian. Despite everything Scar knows me, we’re friends. You’re the outsider who he picked up out of the kindness of his heart.”

And with that statement Grian fell silent. Perhaps that’s why Xelqua’s attempts to convince Scar to unleash his anger on the Crastle had failed. Because despite everything they are friends.

That’s a leverage Xelqua can’t compete against.

They sat silently in the kitchen until Scar arrived back.

The vex had a bag of soil and some flowers Xelqua didn’t bother to recognise. Something red and purple.

“Scar, my boy,” Cleo chimed, standing up from the table.

Scar just silently put his findings down on the floor and before Cleo could speak up again, the vex grabbed them by the shirt.

“Where is Pizza?” Scar’s eyes were glowing brighter than Grian ever saw before. His hands were too tense, to the point of trembling.

“Less hostility, Scar, I’m here to make a deal for information,” The zombie sounded chillingly cold and confident.

“Cleo, we’ve been here for three weeks. Three weeks on top of the other two. I don’t think you understand how much restraint I need right now,” Scar let go of Cleo, stepping away. He didn’t look at Grian, he didn’t look at Cleo anymore. Just away, to the floor, to the window, anywhere but those two.

The zombie seemed to nod in understanding. Grian did not though. What was Scar talking about?

“I’ll make it quick. What are you willing to give for your llama?” Cleo stepped away, looking around the room with a more calculated gaze.

“Make it even quicker, what do you want?”

Grian sat at the table watching this game of tiptoeing around the matter. They spoke with familiarity. Cleo was choosing their words carefully, clearly used to deal with this vex. Especially when his eyes shone cyan.

“Your armour and tools for the information,” Cleo smirked.

“I’ll give you the armour I currently have on me along with a tool and in return you, Cleo, will tell me where my llama named Pizza is,” Scar glanced at Cleo. There was no warmth in his gaze. Just predatory calculation. “And if my llama is harmed or killed, I’ll go after you and your teammates. You are all rich in magic.”

Cleo frowned at that last part. Xelqua tasted a fruity fizzy flavour of anxiety from them. It finally clicked in the watcher's mind what was wrong with Scar. What he was counting for five weeks.

The last time he ate.

One of the reasons why Xenrai offered to have vex in the game was their diet. Xelqua made a world without many magical creatures in it. Endermen, but those would be hard to hunt.

Scar needed meat. Scar needed magic. Both of those only were found in this game in endermen and some players.

That’s why Scar didn’t talk to Grian much. That’s why he avoided looking at Scott. That’s why Cleo feels nervous. They have meat on their bones and magic in their blood.

Scar was losing his mind over hunger. That’s why he mostly stayed with Jimmy. Jimmy was actually an avian. Jimmy had no magic. Scar didn’t see him as food.

“Scar, you wouldn’t,” Cleo tried to protest but made no attempts to get closer.

“I would, Cleo. You know I would,” Scar stepped closer. “Agree to the deal or I’m starting to hunt your team down.”

“Why not Martyn? Or Scott? BigB? Joel? They have magic and are not your friends,” The zombie tried again.

Grian noticed how they didn’t mention him or Jimmy. Perhaps because to Cleo’s knowledge Grian was an avian.

“You should’ve thought about friendship before stealing Pizza,” Scar’s eyes glowed brightly. “You give me information about my llama’s location, I give you the armour I currently have on me along with a tool. And if I find Pizza in a poor condition, I’m hunting your team down.”

“Fine, fine!” Cleo sighed. “Firstly you.”

Scar took off his armour, pushing it off to Cleo along with a pickaxe Grian seemed to remember from Etho.

Cleo, in return, gave the location of the llama. And without any further pleasantries they left.

Scar quickly left as well, grabbing a lead and some hay. Xelqua followed, flapping his wings and perching on Scar’s shoulder.

After a week of doing so, Grian got confident at perching on Scar. His claws no longer were drawing blood and his movements were more relaxed. Scar seemed to relax a bit when Grian was on his shoulders. Perhaps it was a weight that grounded the vex.

After successfully retrieving Pizza, Scar was a bit more disgusting to the taste. More like stale water - a relief that his pet was unharmed and alive.

Xelqua wanted war. He wanted to push Scar even further from his humanity. But Cleo’s words were still loud and clear.

Scar saw the Crastle as friends. To him, Grian was a charity project at best, if not a tool at worst.

That’s when Xelqua decided to change tactics. He got inside the Sand Castle, searching their chests for some needles. He remembered Scar making a few in the first week. They must have them.

Eventually the avian found them, along with some sandy-coloured fabric with green and red stripes and hearts. Whatever that was, it wasn't Grian’s. He ignored it.

Xelqua returned to Scar with the needle and sat down beside him.

“Can you preen my wings, please?” Grian spread the brown feathered limbs, waiting for, already familiar, sensation of Scar’s fingers.

“Can I do it before we go to sleep, G?” The vex sounded exhausted. Not physically but emotionally.

Xelqua should feel satisfied. But he didn’t. For some reason he didn’t.

“Okay, I don’t need you to preen my wings. I just need two or three feathers. Make your choice,” Grian pushed his back closer to Scar, surrounding the vex with his feathers.

“Birdie, what are you doing?” Scar snickered. He tasted a bit bitter. Xelqua couldn’t understand why he didn’t hate it.

“Just take a pick, Scar!” Grian did the same thing again. Scar quietly laughed. Xelqua’s fingers on the needle grew softer, almost weaker.

He felt weaker. He felt so weak at that moment and he couldn’t understand why.

When Scar passed a couple of feathers over Grian’s shoulder, the avian started to work. He now wrapped his wings around himself, denying the vex access to the view of what he was doing.

The needle pierced through the feathers with ease and, with a bit of effort, Grian managed to bend the thin metal into a stable and safe-looking hook.

“Here,” The avian opened his wings and turned around to face Scar. He raised a newly made earring, containing his feathers. Brown Grian’s feathers. Grian’s, not Xelqua’s. For some reason that thought made the watcher's heart squeeze.

“Wait, Grian, you don’t have to,” Scar’s eyes were wide and yet he tasted so bitter. “I don’t want you to feel obligated. If you don’t feel like I’m close enough for you to,”

“Scar, I want you to be close to me. I want us to be friends,” Grian shifted closer. “I want to be sure I have power over you,” were Xelqua’s unsaid words. It felt like he was convinced himself that this act, this verbally established friendship, was just a manipulation tactic.

Scar turned his head a bit, giving Grian access to his ear.

Fairly speaking, Xelqua had never pierced anyone’s ears. So the action was awkward and clearly uncomfortable, if not painful, for Scar.

But three feathers were now hanging from Scar’s ear and the man tasted acrid, almost like acid. But Xelqua didn’t mind.

“Now, what was the deal about Pizza’s poor condition?” Grian smirked. Now he was on equal footing with Cleo and others whom Scar knew. He was Scar’s friend, just like them.

“That I’ll hunt them if Pizza is in a poor state?” Scar tilted his head to the side. Xelqua couldn’t understand if he was genuinely clueless or just playing the role.

“Scar, Pizza was in a box with no access to the grass for about a week,” Grian stood up. “Doesn’t that count as poor condition in your opinion?”

“Why are you doing this?” Scar stood up as well. But his breath was shallow. There was no anger or accusation in his voice. Just desperation.

“Because you’re hungry, aren’t you? And they gave you a reason to feast,” Grian held Scar’s hand. The motion he found useless and annoying, but the one Scar constantly did himself. “Scar, they have lives to spare. You won’t kill them.”

Scar looked conflicted. His eyes were darting all around the desert, he looked tormented. The grip of Grian’s hand got tighter as the vex brought it closer to his lips.

There was no contact, nothing, Grian could just feel the warm, small, and uneven breath. For a moment Scar opened his mouth, perhaps to speak, but his canines were too close to Xelqua’s skin. Involuntarily, the watcher’s mind ran with thoughts that the vex would bite into him.

But that didn’t happen. Scar didn’t bite Grian. The hunger did seem to drive him to the point of desperation and the taller man just nodded.

Xelqua didn’t risk letting Scar change his mind. He pulled onto the man’s hand, dragging him down the Monopoly Mountain. The excitement and laughter filled in the dry hot air, Xelqua didn’t even notice the acrid taste.

When Grian got more confident that Scar wouldn’t bail out, he let go of the dusty-blue hand, flapping his wings and getting into the air. He was planning to just find a hole in the wall of cacti they made.

But he witnessed something utterly different. Scar’s body and mind had tricked him again; his instincts screaming wings were there, but it was only scars. Grian wasn’t sure if Scar expected to fly over the ravine or perhaps just extend his jump to safely reach the other side, but he didn’t.

Scar fell down. Grian hovered there in the air in shock.

The sound of cracked bones was the least horrifying part of the scene. Fibulas and tibias were sticking out of the vex’s knees, ripping the flesh, skin, and fabric open as if he got impaled. His lifeless body fell backwards, slowly getting stained in blood from the injury.

The green eyes were open, but there was no cyan glow behind them. No predatory calculation, no mischievous twinkle, no warm spark. They were dull and lifeless. In that moment Scar’s eyes looked like the ones of Xelqua and his kind. Empty.

The realisation that his entire existence is just an animated death was bitter. Not from tasting happiness somewhere, but because for some reason Xelqua for the first time ever felt inferior to the mortals. Was it the jealousy over their ability to care and love? To feel sympathy and empathy? To be free to do what they desire?

The sudden taste of maple syrup shot Grian out of his thoughts. The avian flew down the ravine, trying to figure out how to help Scar’s body grow back together correctly.

He needed to fix his legs. Xelqua tried to work both carefully and quickly since he could see how the flesh was trying to snap the bones back inside.

When Scar was properly awake, he looked panicked. Xelqua had a suspicion: the vex was close to actual death, which meant that the rule would kick in and numb his humanity even further.

What wasn’t good was the fact that Scar couldn’t make a proper step. After being helped to get up, Scar couldn’t take a step without losing balance. His bones didn’t set properly during the revival. He couldn’t walk now, not without support. And in this game it was a death sentence.

The hunt was cancelled, obviously. Grian managed to fly Scar back to the Sand Castle and set the man in their nest. Xelqua didn’t know what to do. He probably needed to make something, some sort of aid, but Grian never dealt with anything like that. He didn’t know what Scar needed.

“Birdie, breathe,” Scar whispered, which was ironic. Grian was, undoubtedly, in a better condition than Scar. “We’ll figure it out. Could you please bring over that chest?” The vex’s voice was gentle. It wasn’t an order. Scar easily could’ve just ordered, and Xelqua would have fully understood if the taller man started to constantly order Grian around, but he didn’t.

Not that he needed it. Grian practically ran to the chest and back, still trying to figure out how to fix the issue.

The moment the chest was set next to the nest, Scar’s hands moved to his jacket that was around Grian’s shoulders. He didn’t question it, just took it off and tugged on the red sweater as well.

“Take it off. I have something for you,” Scar whispered, going through the chest. He pulled out that sandy coloured fabric that Grian saw earlier. The fabric, no, the poncho, had a hole in the back - for Grian’s wings. “It should be better. You won’t boil during the day, and it’ll keep you warm at night. At least I hope it will. Pizza seems comfortable in his fur, so I figured you’d be comfortable too.”

Grian hated the feeling in his chest right now. He couldn’t name it. He couldn’t understand what it was. It made him feel weak, small, vulnerable, all things he shouldn’t be. Not in regard to players.

The poncho was indeed comfortable. It was light, it was soft, it kept the dry desert air and harsh sunlight away from his body.

The duo then proceeded to talk about Scar’s condition. They tested multiple times what was keeping Scar from standing, figuring out that it was just a balance issue on his right leg.

Xelqua was tempted to go into the void and look in the archives for something about it, but seeing Scar leaning on the chair for support gave him an idea. A cane should work.

And just like that, Grian spent the rest of the day in the nest by Scar, trying, failing, and trying again to carve out the cane. The vex was planting flowers he had brought earlier in the pots.

At some point the avian felt something in his hair. Scar was putting flowers in his hair, red and purple ones.

“Since I have your feather, you might as well have my flowers,” the taller man whispered, carefully arranging the flower crown on the blonde head.

“Scar, I don’t think it’s the same,” Grian rolled his eyes, tempted to remove the arrangement from his locks.

“But it is,” Scar caught Grian’s hands, his eyes glowing. “You are adorably stupid, Grian. You know that avians don’t have magic?”

“What? Hey!” The avian puffed out the feathers on his wings and tail. “I’m not stupid! And of course I know that avians don’t have magic.”

“And yet you have it,” Scar leaned even closer, not letting go of Grian’s hands. “Be honest, it’s an order. Are you not avian?”

Grian froze. Xelqua felt cornered. He couldn’t say anything that wasn’t the truth, he knew that much already. The deal wouldn’t let him go against Scar’s order.

But he could stay silent. He could just not respond or respond without lies.

“Scar, what are you talking about?”

“Smart,” the vex’s grip got tighter. Scar’s eyes grew sharper. “Let’s play this game. You reek of magic. And not any magic. I don’t think I’ve felt this much magic from anyone, not even Zoom Zoom has as much of it,” Scar pushed Grian down on the nest. His eyes were predatory. Xelqua was about to get eaten, wasn't he? “From now on, until I tell you to stop, do not stay silent, do not avoid the question, and reply to it with full honesty: are you a watcher?”

Xelqua tried to stay silent. He tried not to respond. But it was painful; the magic of the deal was forcing the words out of his throat.

“I am,” Grian gasped out, barely audible, but Scar heard.

“Did you make this?”

“I did.”

“Why are you in here?”

“I… I don’t know anymore,” Grian was afraid of this answer himself. He squeezed his eyes, expecting to taste chocolate and see hatred from Scar. Or perhaps a fruity, fizzy taste of fear. That was a common response to seeing a watcher.

But instead Scar’s head just fell onto Grian’s shoulder, his grip on the avian’s hands grew softer.

“Are we friends...?” Scar whispered, his voice a quiet plea.

“I… I don’t know.”

“You don’t know what friendship is?”

“I don’t know if I can be your friend, Scar,” Grian started to do that stupid motion that the other man constantly did: his fingers were drawing circles on Scar’s knuckles.

“Why not?”

“I’m afraid of the repercussions. My kind won’t approve.”

“Then don’t return to your kind. You can stay with us, with me. I’m sure we have a space for one more on Hermitcraft. I’ll talk to Zoom Zoom, I’ll explain it to him, you have my word, Grian, you don’t need to stay with your family, you have a place that will welcome you,” Scar’s words were fast, desperate, pleading, but it wasn’t a command. It wasn’t even a question. Grian didn’t need to respond and frankly he didn’t have an answer.

There was a moment of silence. Neither of them said anything for a very long time that felt like eternity. Scar broke the quietness of the night first.

“You can stop answering my question,” he whispered. The vex leaned away, looking at Grian with an expression that made the watcher feel guilty. Scar tasted disgustingly sweet, cloying even.

And with that he lay down in the nest, choosing to sleep through the night, while Grian kept working on the cane. The morning would come, the tension would not get resolved, and flowers in Grian’s hair would keep blooming until he chooses to let them rot or dry them out to keep poppies and lilacs there forever.

Chapter Text

The morning after was tense with the unsaid words and questions. Scar, to no surprise, still couldn’t walk on his own. He needed to learn how to use the cane without any actual doctor in sight. Grian wasn’t even sure if he made the cane correctly.

All Grian knew was that he needed to make the base of it as wide as possible, so the thing wouldn’t drown in the sand.

Another major problem was Scar’s hunger. The first incident happened when Grian was helping the vex to rearrange potted flowers around their base.

Scar was just silently watching, until he wasn’t. He got up, stepped closer to Grian’s back, reached out to carefully nudge the flower pot a bit to the side. That was normal. Close proximity was already normal between them.

What was not normal was how tightly Scar’s hand wrapped around the avian’s wrist, holding him in place, while his teeth sank into the blonde’s cheek. Xelqua jerked from the pain, which was stupid and just caused more damage.

Instinctively, the watcher felt his magic circling to the fingertips, shifting the disguise into a less stable form. He would’ve hit Scar with the magic if not the memory of purple eyes staring into his soul. Xelqua made too many mistakes to risk another one. The magic focused back onto keeping this “Grian” persona real.

Scar didn’t let go of the wrist and yet his teeth did not clamp down. It felt like, despite hunger, Scar was holding back. As if he was just trying to soothe the ache by having a bare minimum: at least something, a drop of blood, in his mouth.

“We need to deal with your hunger before you eat me!” The avian spread out his brown wings, forcing Scar to let go and step aside. There was a bitter taste of caramel in Xelqua’s mouth, guilt mixed with happiness. The same happiness that prompted Scar to laugh.

Such a warm sound that Grian learned to smile at, to adore and love. A sound that he would never hear in the void. The void was dark and empty, deprived of any life and emotion as it was eaten quickly and without hesitation. Xelqua, for the first time in his twenty years, realised that the void was cold.

Scar’s hand on his cheek was warm.

“Sorry, songbird, I just couldn’t help myself,” The vex whispered, rubbing the blood off Grian’s face. It clearly wasn’t going to waste, as Scar licked the red substance off his dusty-blue fingertips.

“Songbird? That's new,” Xelqua didn’t really want to know why the taller man changed the nickname for him. His personal cultural experience told him that it won’t be anything good.

“Well, you’re not just a birdie,” Scar leaned on the cane, smiling with his calculating predatory gaze. “And you’re my friend. Birdie felt more like an insult.”

“Any nickname is an insult.”

“Not any, Grian. They are a way to show bonds, care, affection, friendships and love,” The vex chuckled, shaking his head. “But I guess if you don’t believe in such things, nicknames would be an insult to you.” Scar took Grian’s hand and brought it to his lips. At first it was an unknown action to Xelqua. For some reason the taller man lightly pressed his lips to Grian’s fingers. However, the tender motion twisted a moment later as Scar's mouth opened up, and his sharp teeth sank into Grian's fingers.

“Right! We need to deal with your hunger!” Grian yelled as he pulled his hand away.

It was just a couple of hours in the morning and the avian was already covered in bite marks. The main problem with Scar’s hunger was that he no longer could hunt. At least not how he would’ve before.

The duo spent the entire day trying to figure out who to kill and how to do it. The great thing about Scar knowing that Grian was a watcher was the feeling of relaxation. Xelqua no longer needed to pretend to be an avian around Scar: no need for physical food, no need to hide his magic.

“Can’t you hunt?” The vex asked, breaking the prolonged silence of their defeat. The man was sitting next to the kitchen counters that now served the purpose of a workbench: neither Scar nor Grian needed a kitchen.

The dusty-blue hands didn’t stop working on the bow, something that both Grian and Scar had agreed would be a most useful weapon with his new condition.

Bird-like hands stopped working on the arrows with brown feathers and glass tips. Black, void-like eyes looked up at Scar.

“Scar, I can’t kill others. My so-called family would tear my eyes out if I kill anyone else,” Grian returned to work on the arrows.

“I don’t mean hunt my friends, jeez, G,” Scar laughed, not stopping his work. “I stole an enchantment table from Ren. I was thinking that as a temporary solution you might try to use it on rabbit meat.”

Grian put the finished arrow aside, into the pile of all the others. He leaned on the table, resting the bandaged cheek on the wooden surface.

“How temporary of a solution is it?”

“It usually helps me to postpone my hunger for a day or two, but with all this… intensity right now it might be a couple hours,” The vex sounded apologetic, scared even. Fruity fizzy flavour on a tip of Xelqua’s tongue confirmed it. “Why do I even feel like that…?”

“Because next time you die will be your last one,” The watcher said calmly, empty even. Xelqua was the one to speak now, not Grian. The flavour on Xelqua’s tongue got more pronounced, there was no doubt about what Scar was feeling.

The dusty-blue hands froze in place, finally stopping to work on the bow. Not because it was finished, but because Scar’s attention was no longer placed on it.

“Wait… What do you mean, Grian..?”

“I gave you all three lives. On the last one your instincts overcame your humanity, as well as you in general became bloodthirsty,” Xelqua couldn’t help but smile. The vex tasted absolutely delicious.

“So we actually will all die?” Scar set the bow on the kitchen counter. His hands, uncertain now, grabbed the cane, helping him to stand up and fully face the feathered creature sitting at the table. “There is no escape for us, is there?”

“Exactly. So you might abandon your so-called friendship and eat as your heart desires,” Xelqua thought Scar would agree to that. That the vex would smile, as he always did, and go along with whatever the watcher was doing.

“Eat? Is that what you want me to do? I just learned that we actually all will die,” The taller man cut himself off, glaring into Grian. Xelqua felt a subtle change in taste: a chocolate flavour slowly forming on his tongue. “No, this doesn’t even matter right now. I’m the only one who’s at the point of actually dying. So how am I even supposed to eat others? Clearly our deaths have effects on our bodies” Scar slammed the cane against the floor. The loud noise forced Xelqua to press his wings on his head closer to his body, blocking off the sound.

“If you eat something valuable for living, it should regrow. Like when the explosion damaged your brain. It’s perfectly healthy and functional.”

“Great, so I pulled a short end of the stick with my leg?” Scar tasted just like chocolate now. A very rich chocolate.

“Limbs are not necessarily to live, Scar. You can eat someone’s leg and it’s going to be their problem to find a way to survive without one.”

“Grian, do you hear yourself? This is insane! You genuinely expect me to think about my hunger right now?” The vex’s grip on the cane grew tighter, his knuckles turning white. His voice was loud and sharp. “You conditioned us to believe that deaths are not permanent here only to lie? Why? Why even make such a rule?”

“Because you taste absolutely divine right now and I can’t wait for others to taste the same,” Xelqua whispered without even thinking, the raw truth of his twisted mind. The only reason why this all exists is to taste good for him and other watchers.

What Xelqua didn’t expect is to see a cyan glow in Scar’s eyes.

“Answer me honestly, do you have three lives? Or just one?” The vex’s voice was cold. He wasn’t yelling anymore, he was just ordering around.

“Three, I added myself as a player. But I will leave after I pay my debt to you,” There was no point in lying, not at this stage at least.

“Got’cha,” Scar leaned down on the table, his face close to Grian’s. “So I will need to eat you piece by piece, to ensure that your death is slow and painful, to ensure that you won’t recover from it.”

“Wait, Scar, no,” Grian felt a chill running down his spine, the blood in his veins turned cold. Despite the heat of the desert, the avian felt cold, just like the glow of Scar’s eyes.

Undeniably, for a moment, he was afraid. His instincts were immediately to press his wings closer to himself, to shield that part that actually made him feel alive and not just tool at the disposal of watchers in power.

“You can’t fight back. You can’t run. You can’t fly. You’re staying here and don’t even scream, birdie,” Scar grabbed one of the arrows that Grian made, his movements slow and deliberate. He wasn’t checking what a good job the avian did. He was choosing a knife to use for cooking.

Grian wanted to scream, to yell, but magic bound him to sit in place and watch his predator prepare the feast for himself.

Scar tasted like chocolate. And now Grian actually understood what he meant about emotions blinding people. Unfortunately for Xelqua, he couldn’t just run off like they did with Etho to wait for Scar to cool off. He needed to do something to ensure the vex will pause and at least think for a moment.

“How about a deal, Scar?” That was the first thing that came to Grian’s mind. A deal. Like one wasn’t enough.

“You free us all and I don’t eat you?” There was no glow to green eyes. It was a mocking joke, a tease, a taunt. Nothing more. Not that Xelqua would’ve agreed to that.

“No, I can’t do that. But I can tell you all the rules of the game, honestly, as long as you spare me and don’t tell another living soul in this game about those rules,” Xelqua was sure there was some mistake in his phrasing. Because Scar’s smile grew sharper, satisfied with whatever mistake the watcher made.

“Deal, songbird,” The vex’s eyes glowed cyan, the deal was sealed and Grian should’ve felt safer but he didn’t. “I’m all ears.”

Scar, was indeed, all ears. He didn’t interrupt Xelqua’s long speech, he didn’t look away, never did he stop listening. The shock factor for Scar might be gone, but the man made so many enemies and was one step away that Grian didn’t worry about it too much. Surely Scar will be the first to die and learn the truth.

These bodies, these mortal shells, are just temporary vessels for players’ existence. Any damage done to them will be reversed and forgotten as soon as the game ends for the player.

How would you end the game? You die. And after your death, your actual body would be returned to the world that is labelled as your home.

Watchers have no use of the dead. Actually making a game that would result in death would be a useless waste of energy. Especially if this goes smoothly. Xelqua had no desire to sort through another hundreds of souls to choose for a potential next game, so keeping the same players will decrease the amount of resources put into creating one.

“And what about you?” Scar questioned only after it was clear that the watcher had nothing else to say. His voice was quiet and serious, careful even, as if he didn’t want to step onto the slippery slope. “You added yourself as a player, yes, but do you have a file attached to your name? Does name Grian even exist in your system?”

Xelqua paused. In the three weeks Grian was here he never checked if there was a file for him.

“It doesn’t matter, Scar. I will leave the game as soon as our deal is done,” Xelqua, for some reason, tasted the cloying flavour on his tongue. It was a subtle change to the otherwise bland taste of emotions going through Scar in this moment, but Grian spent too much time with this man to not notice the difference.

“Where would you leave?” Another quiet question. However there was no cyan glow, no order to speak up and tell the truth. Just honest conversation and trust that Grian will respond.

“To the void, obviously,” The words tasted bitter and wrong. It had nothing to do with Scar’s emotions, only Grian’s and the taste felt wrong for what he was feeling.

The vex didn’t respond. He just nodded and fidgeted with the handle of the cane, his dusty-blue fingers drumming a rhythmic sound.

“You promise that we won’t actually die and any damage will not stick to us after we get back home?” Scar spoke up after what felt like eternity.

“I promise. You all will be physically safe in the long run.”

“Okay,” The vex tasted like a fizzy caramel that was filled down in watery starch. “You can’t kill other players, but can you cause their death?”

Grian smirked. Scar’s hunger was taking over and they were back at square one, but at least it was a fun place to be at.

“I can trap something. It was a back up plan of mine that got approved, if you all were to get buddy buddy.” Xelqua waved his hand, opening the window to the void and taking out files of the players. “Let’s see who you can eat.”

“And for who we have means to make a trap.”

The choice fell upon the Dogwarts. While Ren himself and Etho weren’t really a viable source of food for Scar, others easily could be seen as one.

The vex was a bit unsatisfied that they wouldn't be able to trap the Crastle. However it was clear that they had more chances of succeeding at the Dogwarts.

And honestly, Xelqua was in awe, watching Scar do his magic. Not even real magic, just the way Scar talked to the obviously hostile and wary members of the Dogwarts was enchanting.

Scar, undeniably, was in danger. Scar, undeniably, was an easy opponent to kill now. But somehow the man was practically disarming enemies with just a charming smile, sad glance, and a few words.

The cane should’ve been a weakness, a liability to him. The vex turned it into a weapon and distraction, collecting pity points and pretending that he was here to warn about potential consequences of deaths, be helpful and considerate, kind. And yet, he didn’t mention being on his last life or that they all can escape this game by dying three times.

Grian was so enchanted by Scar’s performance that he forgot about needing to make a trap or even missed Scar’s signals to go and start making one. Of course when Scar practically squeezed the avian’s cheeks and turned blonde head towards the exit, joking about how pretty and loyal avians are, Xelqua got the hint.

The trap was risky. It involved the same tool that could’ve saved Grian if Scar got insane with hunger: a table capable of infusing magic from the surroundings into an object. Which meant that if this trap fails, Grian would be left with a very hungry vex.

When the literal explosion was placed, Xelqua got back to Scar, trying to get him away, but not too far. They needed to collect meat afterwards. But to not raise any suspicion, the desert duo lied about stealing cookies from BigB. Apparently Scar liked baked goods, or perhaps baking itself, because no one questioned and just nodded as if it was the most likely thing they could do.

And from then they just watched. Xelqua could taste a subtle fizzy taste of anxiety from Scar, but mostly it was caramel infused with tart sweetness of impatience. For a moment there was a good amount of people, a good number of prey that worked on safely removing the trap. Two elves, then creaking and seraph joined in. Just for Xelqua’s personal satisfaction there also were the canary and the dog.

The explosion, however, only hit the last two, along with the seraph. Not the best catch, but it was enough. It was enough for Scar. And it seemed to make the job easier for the vex, since Skizz wasn’t a part of Hermitcraft.

Before the bodies could start to regenerate, before they even cooled off, Scar, with a sharp grin, stabbed Skizzleman’s body with his cane. They discussed it. Grian and Scar actually had a plan as to how to harvest meat.

It was such a perfect turn of events, actually. No one assumed anything wrong until it was too late. Martyn was helping Ren to get back up, Scott was fixing up Jimmy. No one was there for Skizz, everyone assumed Scar and Grian helped him.

They only realised the reality when the sound of cracking bones and ripping flesh hit their ears. Grian was so grateful for these bird feet that he forgot they weren’t actually his.

The talons were grabbing Skizz’s forearms, brown wings were flapping fast, ripping the limbs out of their sockets. Scar’s cane and his weight in general worked as a force to keep the seraph’s body down.

But arms weren’t the only thing they took. Scar worked on getting meat as well. He cut the stomach open, dipping his hand inside and under the rib cage. A moment after the usually dusty-blue hand was vibrant red, holding a heart.

“Well, this was quite easy,” Scar snickered, biting down on the freshly harvested organ. And in that moment Grian felt ecstatic. There were a lot of fruity fizzy feelings, delicious taste of fear and shock radiating from everyone except for Scar.

No one dared to move. No one knew how to react.

Grian felt alive, free. Xelqua felt like Grian. Xelqua liked being Grian more than he enjoyed the taste in his mouth and that must’ve meant something.

The avian burst into laughter, a sound so powerful and full of life that it surprised him as well. Void, he must taste disgusting right now.

But it didn’t matter. Scar tasted disgustingly bitter too, with a hint of saltiness. Grian enjoyed seeing Scar smile like that at him.

Skizz’s arms were tossed into the air, Grian catching them with his hands, holding them as nothing more than sticks of food. The hermit thrust perched onto Scar’s shoulder with such an ease that it seemed like he belonged there.

“Give Skizz our condolences when he wakes up,” Scar tipped his head, while Grian kept laughing.

The fear in elven’s eyes was beautiful and bright, it was mesmerising. Not because of the taste, but because of how it looked, how it made their eyes shine with life.

Xelqua tasted a chocolate aftertaste and quickly whispered into Scar’s ears that they needed to leave. Martyn was getting angry and as much as another potential food source would be nice, they were not prepared to fight.

Back at the desert both of the bloodied monsters were cheerfully laughing and talking. Scar was explaining to Grian how he managed to take out the heart so quickly and effortlessly, Grian was gushing over the feeling of the bones and flesh ripping underneath his feet. What both found common and truthful is how exciting and freeing the moment felt. How fun it was. How it made both of them feel alive.

The seraph’s arms and heart were eaten without much delay or cooking. Scar was too hungry for that.

Only after a couple hours did Scar actually get back to his senses. The hunger no longer consumed his mind and the man could think with a little more clarity.

“We should go to Scott and Jimmy,” the vex spoke, standing up from the table. “We definitely need to make sure our alliance is still in place.”

“Do we, Scar?” Grian, honestly, didn’t want to have anyone else in their team. They worked perfectly fine as a duo, they didn’t need more people.

“Dogwarts have a lot of people. Knowing Ren and Etho they won’t really take the attack lightly, especially since we already had bad water between us,” Scar chuckled. A warm sound that no longer held that hostility and predatory sharpness Grian got used to. But for some reason the watcher didn’t complain. “Not to mention, you need to take a lesson or two from Jimmy on how to act like an avian. I can’t cover up for your poor acting forever, songbird.”

That was an argument Xelqua couldn’t argue against.

The flower forest was eerily quiet, the residents clearly were inside the cozy house built into the mountain wall. Scar didn’t knock, he just walked in, sneaking in like he was about to commit another murder with Grian on his shoulder.

At least that’s what Scott must’ve assumed, when he pulled out the sword, protecting Jimmy.

The canary was in a terrible state. His eyes were wide, panicked, clearly the bloodthirst was hitting him despite the fact that canaries weren’t violent creatures.

The explosion left the man scarred. His hands were shaking, perhaps from nerves, perhaps from incorrect healing. The golden wings were twisted and folded in a way that made Grian shiver from discomfort. Some parts were empty of the feathers, revealing burned skin.

Jimmy looked terrible. And tasted like a fruity fizzy feast: fear, anxiety, paranoia, all sorts of fruits in one mix. It was delicious, but they weren’t here to feed Xelqua.

“Scott, we’re not here to fight,” Scar spoke softly, raising his right hand up in the motion of surrender. “We’re here to check on Jimmy and make sure we’re still on good terms.”

“Good terms? Scar, you,” Scott cut off. The scene at Dogwarts was gruesome, violent, and probably scary. But one thing for sure, it was hard to describe. “You’re monsters! Both of you!”

“Rude, but understandable,” Scar chuckled, gently shrugging his left shoulder. A subtle hint for Grian to get off. They never really talked about such motion and what it meant, both silently understood. “Are you going to join Dogwarts now?”

“No, of course not!” Scott didn’t lower his weapon. “But you killed Jimmy!”

“He killed himself,” Grian chimed in. “The trap was for the Dogwarts. Martyn, Skizz, and BigB specifically. He had no interest in being there or helping to disarm it.”

“What happened to being good people? To help each other, so the Game Master won’t get what they want?” Scott was borderline crying. The fruitiness slowly grew into a caramel and fizziness turned creamy.

“I would assume Jimmy hadn’t told you yet,” Scar sat at the floor of the empty room. The cane, still covered in Skizz’s blood, was put down next to him, as a reminder of the murder. Green eyes were focused on the canary who was silent, probably processing his new feelings. “There is no way to keep us ‘good’.”

“The fact that you went insane doesn’t mean others would!” Scott pointed the sword at Scar. Jimmy finally moved, grabbing the elf's hand and lowering it down.

“No, Scott, he… He’s right,” Jimmy looked like those words were bitter to him, pulled out of his mouth through the torture. “I don’t feel right. I feel weird. I feel like I want to strangle someone, to taste blood and I’m not even a carnivore.”

Scott’s eyes softened, his hand dropped the sword and the man hugged his canary desperately.

“Oh, Jimmy…” The cyan-haired man whispered.

Scar and Grian glanced at each other, perhaps sharing the same thought that they were interrupting something private. But they stayed silent, letting residents of the flower forest have their moment.

Only after Jimmy had calmed down and was able to comprehend his situation did the negotiations continue.

“I want to ensure that no matter what you will be on our side,” Scar was leading the conversation. The vex was naturally built for this. “I am quite sure Dogwarts would want our heads soon enough and we want to know we can rely on your help.”

“Are you asking us to fight against the rest of the people in this game?” Scott looked serious, rightfully so. Scar’s request was foolish. He was asking to face twice as many people, if not more. And, technically speaking, only Scar was a carnivore in this quartet.

“It sounds insane, I know, but we have a trick up our sleeve that no one else knows about,” The vex’s smile grew sharper. Grian didn’t know what Scar was talking about. As far as Grian knew, they didn’t have anything that might help them fight.

“And what is it?” The elf bit the bait.

“See, I can’t say, unless I know you’re on our side,” Scar sounded like he was disappointed, but he didn’t taste like that. The man was bitter, his smirk was obvious. He enjoyed this. “So how about a deal? With both of you.”

At this point Grian already got used to Scar’s smirk and mischievous twinkle in his glowing with magic eyes. Grian found it mesmerising. Scar was using his magic so freely and naturally that it made Xelqua itch to use his own.

“I will reveal to you our secret as well as promise that we would come to your aid if you would need it. You, Jimmy and Scott, will keep this secret hidden for the entirety of the ongoing game and swore your allegiance to me and Grian. No betrayals, no backstabbing. Loyalty and unconditional help,” Scar stayed calm, his words confident, as he extended his hands to the elf and the canary.

The boys looked at each other, clearly processing the deal. Jimmy, bless his soul, was too naive to think about it any longer.

“Deal!” Jimmy shook Scar’s hand. But Scar didn’t move, waiting on Scott. He needed to bind both of the men into this before saying anything else.

“Fine,” Scott cracked under the silent pressure of the three pairs of gazes. “Deal.”

The hands were shaken, a useless motion, considering that Scar’s magic worked on verbal agreement, but a symbolic gesture for the hybrids other than vexes or allays.

“So what’s the hidden weapon?” Jimmy leaned forward, smiling as brightly as he did before the explosion covered his face with scars.

“Well,” Scar wrapped his arm around Grian’s shoulder. “Let me introduce to you the Game Master: Grian.”

Chapter Text

The silence was crushing. Everyone, except for Scar, had their eyes wide and round. Maybe, if Grian wasn’t Grian but Xelqua, he could’ve slithered his way out, played it cool and joke that Scar was just preparing another trick.

But Xelqua was Grian for four weeks. For four weeks Xelqua pretended to feel, to care, to live, to the point that now it wasn’t a pretend.

Grian pushed the chair back, abruptly standing up. The piece of furniture fell down with a loud bang, jolting everyone’s heads into the avian’s direction. His tail and wings were puffed out, his gaze of a void was laser focused on the vex, who clearly found the situation amusing.

If Xelqua wasn’t blinded by the anger he would’ve kept his cool, kept his disguise and avian shape intact. But the three dimensional shell was broken, swollen in the fog of a void. To Scar, Jimmy, and Scott Xelqua looked like a shadow, like a solid black blurry creature with three pairs of wings, two pairs of solid purple glowing eyes, and lilacs with poppies in the deformed hair.

Grian subconsciously raised his hands to the flowers, ensuring that they wouldn’t fall out through the fourth dimension structure of his body. Blossoms were still three dimensional as before, they could’ve easily slipped through the cracks.

“What in the world was that, Scar? We had a deal!” Xelqua yelled. His taste buds were filled with a fruity fizzy taste of absolute terror. But it came from Scott and Jimmy.

Scar, despite seeing Grian like that for the first time, didn’t taste nice. He tasted bitter, soft bitterness that was supported by the warm smile, quiet snicker, and full of affection green eyes.

“We did have a deal. But it had nothing to do with your origin, songbird,” Scar took Grian’s shadowy hand, intertwining their fingers together. That useless motion of drawing circles on the skin was back and it only frustrated Xelqua more.

At least he wanted to call it frustration. Increased heartbeat, desire to squeeze the dusty-blue hand back so tightly that it would hurt. That must be anger.

Grian couldn’t say anything, just hold the hand and stare at Scar. The watcher couldn’t find words. He was disarmed by the soft smile and warm touch, just like the members of the Dogwarts before the explosion.

“Oh Aeor…” Scott whispered. His hand was reaching slowly for the sword. Jimmy was holding the kitchen knife tightly.

The sound of metal sliding against wooden floors snapped Xelqua out. Like a cornered animal his instincts acted before he could think. With a wave of a palm, a pulse of purple shine hit Scott’s hand, making the elf drop the weapon.

When Jimmy saw that, he tried to jump and stab Xelqua. But his body failed, the canary hissed in pain, curling on the table and squeezing the knife tightly in his shaking hands.

“No backstabbing, Jimmy,” Scar almost sang the line out of the deal with such enthusiasm and satisfaction that it made Xelqua smile. Even if no one could see his smile.

Scar’s grip on the watcher’s hand got tighter and the vex pulled Grian closer to himself. Almost protecting him. No, definitely protecting him.

The grip was tight, yet tender, soft and careful. It was warm and inviting. It was making Grian feel alive and safe. It made Grian want to keep Scar safe beyond just this life, beyond this game. The avian wanted to take him on that offer: run away from the void, join the Hermitcraft.

It was a stupid, stupid, foreign feeling that Xelqua couldn’t name. How would he taste right now? Would it be bitter? Would it be sweet? Would it be salty? It didn’t matter. The taste of emotions didn’t matter. Xelqua enjoyed experiencing them.

He loved how his heart was beating faster, how warmth of Scar’s hand was spreading through the entirety of his fourth dimensional body. Grian wanted to reach out, to put his actual black feathers with purple patterns into Scar’s hair, to wrap this man in his wings and never let go.

But the uneasy feeling of being watched, of potential punishment stopped the watcher from doing so. Just letting Scar pull him close, closer than it was needed, but not close enough for what Grian wanted.

Jimmy slowly rose from the table, his breathing still laboured. The brown eyes were staring into Grian’s soul with conflicted wariness. The taste of fear slowly was switching into confusion and heartbreak.

“This is a monster!” Scott yelled, taking the knife away from Jimmy to ease the punishment of the deal.

“You sure do like throwing this world around, Scott. But Grian is my friend. Your friend. Nothing had changed,” Scar’s voice grew sharper, yet careful, as if he was cautious of Scott. “Besides, songbird is bound to obey me just like you two now. He can’t harm us, I promise.”

Those words seemed to dilute fruitiness in the air with the stale water. Scott and Jimmy felt relieved. Not convinced, but at least slightly at ease. Jimmy’s recent experience with the deal made them a bit calmer.

However Grian felt betrayed.

Scar revealed his identity, Scar spoke about him like an object of possession. Why did the vex act like that? Did the flowers in Grian’s hair and feathers on Scar’s ear meant nothing? Were the pleas to be friends fake?

Was this how watchers were treating mortals? How Xelqua treated Scar?

“To calm you down even more, I will leave as soon as I lose my first life,” Xelqua whispered, trying not to dwell on the emotions that were supposed to be foreign to him. He shouldn’t feel that much. He never felt such strong emotions before. “That I promise. You will never see me again.”

The room tasted like stale water. Relief washed over the inhabitants of the flower forest. But for some reason Scar’s grip grew looser, his smile faded. He tasted disgustingly sweet, a cloying flavour that Grian couldn’t stand. Both Grian and Xelqua were unsatisfied with the taste but for completely different reasons.

Was this promise uttered out to comfort Scott and Jimmy? No. No, Xelqua was a watcher, a monster, as they called him. He would not care for their comfort, that’s what Xelqua promised to himself.

The disgustingly sweet flavour of the heartbeat from Scar: that was why Xelqua said it, to hurt the vex. The taller man was his food and nothing more. He shouldn’t be anything more even if Grian’s heart was disagreeing with it.

Scott and Jimmy were rightfully still wary of Grian. Their reactions were justified and the ones Xelqua expected from Scar, but it never came. It was the quietness that settled into the room again, everyone processing their feelings, emotions, new revelations and changes of dynamics.

“So… What is the benefit of having Grian on our side?” Jimmy whispered after getting back in his seat. The canary was sweet as honey, confused and lost. “I mean, the Game Master.”

“Ugh, please, I love the title, but now it sounds wrong,” Xelqua fixed his disguise, returning back to the regular looking avian. “And to answer your question, I’m quite a powerful entity. I made this world and wrote the rules by which it runs. You really doubt my usefulness, canar,” The stupid deal. It closed Grian’s throat, depriving him of air and not letting him call Jimmy by his species.

Scar’s eyes got a bit wider, a bit remorseful. His dusty-blue hand moved, wanting to reach out, but hesitated.

Jimmy also tasted like panic. Sweet and fruity. He still was full of honey, turning the entire mix into a deliciously sweet fruit salad.

Only Scott tasted bland. Perhaps even slightly bitter, as he seemed to be satisfied with Xelqua’s pain.

“Jimmy,” Grian hissed. His throat immediately soothed, the magic bind lifting its curse for disobedience.

“I see. You indeed have him on a leash, Scar,” The elf commented cold heartedly. “Not sure what rule he broke, but clearly you weren’t lying.”

“Scott, I don’t…” Scar didn’t finish his sentence. He tasted sweet, like caramel. Was this man actually feeling guilty? There was no way. Not after those words. Perhaps with all the rollercoaster of flavours, Xelqua’s taste buds were mistaken.

Grian pushed his wings closer to himself, looking away from everyone. He tried to shield himself from their gazes, to hide in his wings as he did as a child to hide in the void.

Jimmy was too sweet for this world. For this game. He was too naive, clearly, since the canary moved his chair closer to Grian.

“Okay, so, I guess this all explains why you didn’t get my jokes or references before. You don’t know anything about avians, do you?” Jimmy carefully pried open one of the Grian’s wings, looking at him with such a nervous smile that it made Xelqua want to laugh. At least Grian wasn’t the only one who couldn’t act to save his life.

“We’ll leave you two to work this out,” Scott declared, standing up. “Scar and I need to talk.”

“We do?” The vex was forcefully pulled up by the elf and practically dragged outside. The grip looked tight and painful, blue eyes glanced at Grian with a disdain that the watcher didn’t know was possible.

Maybe having them leave was for the best. Grian didn’t want to see Scar right now.

“Well… I guess I can teach you all the secrets of my culture now, huh?” Jimmy was clearly scared to be left alone with a watcher. It was pathetic and, in a way, adorable. After all, this canary was selected just as a sacrifice specifically due to the naivety of his nature.

“Jimmy, I won’t hurt you. I really shouldn’t even be here, so I’m trying to not affect your lives too much,” Grian lowered his brown wings. His voice was a whisper, an attempt to soothe the canary. The watcher needed a teacher and he couldn’t have his teacher be afraid.

“Dude, you literally killed Scar, Ren, Skizz, and me. Poor Skizz! You tore his arms away and for what? For fun?” The golden winged man leaned back in his seat, arms crossed, wings folded unnaturally. They definitely didn’t heal properly. His bones were hollow, fragile. Such a big explosion definitely disfigured them beyond repair.

“Oh, no, fun was an additional bonus. Scar was hungry.” The colour drained from Jimmy’s face. Did the avian not know that vexes needed meat and magic to survive? Or did he just assume that Scar would hunt for scary endermen? “There was nothing else for him to eat without putting too much strain on the body.”

“Stop. I don’t want to know the details,” Jimmy raised his hand to rub the bridge of his nose. “Dude, Skizz got no arms now! No arms!”

Grian shrugged his shoulders. He didn’t care much about consequences of their actions, all this will be swept away as soon as they all die. Perhaps annoying now, but it doesn’t actually hurt their lives. Maybe only psychologically, but that was the intended design.

However, it seemed that Grian’s indifference only made Jimmy more afraid.

“You don’t care, do you…?” The true avian whispered, looking down at the wooden floors. There were no answers for his questions, no hints to be found. “I heard about you as a kid. Creatures of the void, powerful angels that don’t have hearts.”

Xelqua didn’t respond. This question sounded rhetorical, stupid, and pointless. There was no need for an answer. Jimmy didn’t need one.

And yet Grian wanted to disagree. For some reason Grian felt his heart a few hours ago, beating fast from the foreign warm feeling, shattering down for the unknown reason. Grian had a heart.

“I saw you, or rather one of you, before,” Jimmy’s golden wings moved, attempting to wrap around him. And yet the fractured bones didn’t make that possible. “I’m not sure why or how. They just stood there, in the corner of my eye, for a year straight. Never talk, never let anyone else see them. Just… watched.”

To Xelqua it sounded correctly. Some of his kind enjoyed hunting like that. Enjoyed psychological torture. He did it himself as a freshly fledged watcher, but designing Third Life took away his ability for long term hunts.

“I thought I was going crazy,” Jimmy chuckled. It didn’t sound right. It didn’t sound genuine. “Scott was the only one who didn’t. Or perhaps he lied to me about trusting.”

“You two knew each other before this?” Grian couldn’t help but ask. At this point it was useless. It seemed that their data in the archive was outdated or wrong for everyone. “I was sure you two were from different empires. Never met, never talked.”

“What?” The brown eyes shot up, some sort of genuine smile crept onto his cheeks. “Sure, he’s from Rivendell and I’m from the Cod Empire, but we’ve known each other since we were kids.”

“Great, at this point I could’ve just stolen a whole family, it wouldn’t be any different,” Grian didn’t really mean this comment. It was more of a frustrating joke than genuine thought.

“Well… Yeah… From what I got the entirety of Crastle, Ren, Etho, and Scar also know each other. Oh, and we also know Joel.”

“Yeah, yeah. I know about Scott and Joel. My-“ Grian paused. Who was Qanilu to Grian? A sibling? A friend? A colleague? “Another watcher suggested putting Joel and Scott in this game due to their clashing personalities.”

“That’s… Wow,” The canary looked away. “It was like that? Was it that easy to choose why we’re here?”

“Not that easy. I was trying to make sure you all will taste good,” Grian felt terrible saying this. But it was his job, his means to survive. Just like Scar needed to eat meat, Xelqua needed to eat emotions. It was nothing more than survival.

Jimmy nodded and yet his face looked weird. He was smiling but he didn’t taste bitter. It didn’t even look like it was supposed to taste bitter. It wasn’t nervous either. It was almost sad. Grian didn’t know smiles could be sad.

“It must be easy,” Jimmy’s voice was quiet, barely audible. It sounded more like a revelation to himself rather than a statement to Grian. “To live without caring, I mean. I think Scott should learn a thing or two from you.”

“What?” Xelqua shook his head. Did he hear that correctly?

“He cares a bit too much about me. I wish he wouldn’t. Not in this game. It will probably just hurt him more with how… fragile I am.” The clarification followed shortly after. There was laughter in Jimmy's voice, but just like his smile, it sounded wrong, sad.

“I wish I could care,” Grian looked away. Now he was searching for the unknown answers in the wood of the wall. “It seems so… freeing and alive. It looks so safe to know someone is there to help you for no apparent reason. It’s so foolish and… powerful…”

Jimmy chuckled, a suppressed sound that was so different from Scar’s warm laughter. This one was a bit higher pitched, it was more energetic and cheerful. Less sad and wrong. Genuine.

“Dude, it sounds like you want to be cared for, not care about others,” The canary looked up at Grian. “And in that case just stay with Scar. The man would trade a world for you. Believe me, he offered exactly that to me for avian armour and a crash course on our culture.”

“He doesn’t care about me. He cares about a tool at his beck and call,” The watcher’s wings fluffed up, the anger rising to the surface yet again.

“Doesn’t look like that to me, Grian, but hey, we can gossip about it over nest-building practice,” Jimmy smiled, his scarred face and broken wings were making Grian feel nothing but pity. Another emotion Xelqua never experienced before. This canary would die, stupidly, and for some reason Grian didn’t really want that.

He wanted to warn Jimmy, to make sure he stays safe, but it would spoil the game. It would ruin the taste. It would be just a bad idea.

“How do I care?” Grian whispered. His voice surprised him as well. It sounded desperate and weak, it sounded pathetic.

“Huh?” Jimmy’s eyes shot wide. “Well, you make sure that they are happy, safe and healthy. Most avians show care through the gifts actually. The entire thing with feathers basically is just to show that you care about that person so much - you’re willing to sacrifice a piece of yourself for them.”

Grian’s mind immediately went to the feathers on Scott’s wrist and Scar’s ear. But this entire time the watcher was thinking of such an act as a claim of ownership. To show others and the world that this person belongs to the owner of the feathers.

Turns out it’s practically the opposite way around. No wonder Scar was reluctant to accept Grian’s feathers. He didn’t need them to know that the avian would sacrifice himself: the deal made sure that Grian would.

Or maybe Scar was reluctant for another reason? Perhaps he knew Xelqua didn’t put thought into this action, or perhaps he didn’t want Grian to make such declarations.

“Gifts…” Xelqua waved his hands. The purple glow appeared, swirling around and eventually creating a bucket with a pufferfish. That little thing looked like a useful balloon. “My gift to you,” The watcher extended bucked to the avian. “Something that no one will ever have in this game.”

Jimmy, a bit confused and worried, took the bucket that held a poisonous creature in it. But after a few seconds of looking at the little yellow thing swimming around it circled, the canary’s face melted into an affectionate smile.

“It’s so tiny, I love it,” Jimmy laughed, setting the bucket on the table. “Okay, let’s teach you everything you need to know as an avian, Grian.”

Grian didn’t notice how the time had passed. Xelqua expected lessons to be boring, useless, meaningless, and embarrassing, but they weren’t. Jimmy made lessons actually enjoyable.

He explained why avians perch on higher ground. Simply put it had to do with the intimidation factor.

The canary showed how to make armour and clothing that would be adapted for wings and tails. He did apologise for not being able to help with bird feet, but Grian was used to walking barefoot in the void anyway.

Jimmy helped Grian to make a nest, explaining the most important details of its structure during their girly gossip, what materials to use where and how to make it the most comfortable place in the entire house.

That’s where the other lessons were held. Jimmy and Grian were settled in the nest, the canary kept explaining some behaviour of avians. Gifts, hugs with wings, how preening was done only by trusted people and in general what a taboo it was to touch avians’ wings without consent.

Eventually all this talking led two avians to fall asleep in that nest. Out of habit that Grian built with Scar, the brown wing covered Jimmy’s body like a blanket.

It was nice. It was nice to feel like you’re needed and wanted. Not for your power or what you can do, but for you.

Grian only woke up because of Scott. The elf returned back inside, without Scar, and didn’t bother to be quiet. Maybe because Jimmy was a heavy sleeper, since the canary didn’t even stir.

Xelqua was tempted to go back to sleep, to stay at the flower forest and enjoy the slightly bitter flavour in the air. But something felt wrong. The fact that Scar didn’t return was wrong. The fact that Scott tasted sweet and chocolatey was wrong.

Carefully getting out of the soft nest, Grian sneaked to the elf. The blonde didn’t dare tug or touch him for attention. They clearly weren’t close enough for physical contact and therefore Xelqua spoke without any warning.

“Where’s Scar?”

“Went home, from what I got. Said he needed to feed Pizza,” Scott sounded polite. It was that tone of voice Grian heard countless times from in the void from ex-rebels to higher society. Contained, flat, but with a bite.

“He left without me…?” Grian’s wings fell down, carpal edges touching the wooden floors.

“Apparently he doesn’t want you to feel on a leash and let you leave when you so desire,” Scott mumbled. “Even though I was asking him to take you away,” The elf added later, after a small pause.

Grian didn’t bother to stay here any longer. Jimmy was asleep, Scott clearly hated him, so with a few flaps of his wings, the avian soared into the sky.

However back at the desert, there was no brown haired man. No laughter, no taste at all. The place was empty except for the llama.

Grian never cared for the llama. Not just emotionally, but physically as well. It was Scar’s responsibility to feed and shear this animal. But something in Grian prompted him to reach out for the fluffy milky fur, to pet this creature that was so important to Grian’s friend.

At least that was the conclusion of the gossip between him and Jimmy. That Scar was Grian’s friend and that Grian needed to talk to Scar about his complicated emotions. That most likely Scar didn’t mean the words he said, or rather Grian misunderstood the implications.

Pizza had its stall full with hay and water, so Scar clearly was here. The night sky was a clear indicator that Grian was asleep for far longer than he thought.

There was this strange feeling in his chest. Another sensation the watcher couldn’t name. His heart was racing, his fingers were shaking, everything seemed louder and Grian felt like there was no air around.

And all of that just from the thought that something could’ve happened to Scar. That Scar was gone and out of the game, returned back to his home… save.

Such thoughts made Grian even more confused in his emotions. He wanted that to happen, he wanted Scar to return home and be happy. He didn’t understand why he wanted that: to get free from Scar’s control or something else entirely.

But Grian also didn’t want to lose his vex, wishing they could stay in this desert forever together. Maybe because of the fear of getting punished by the watchers for Scar’s early death, maybe because Grian was selfish and didn’t want to think about Scar’s wishes.

Whatever the outcome was, Grian needed to know it. He needed to find Scar or at least his body.

For unknown to Xelqua reasons, his lips got briefly pressed into the forehead of the llama, quickly muttering “goodbye” and “stay safe” at once. His brown wings raised a cloud of sand and the avian was in the sky once again, looking for his, potentially, first friend.

Flying through the sky, looking through everyone’s bases, Grian could see red banners with white triangles at the end. Almost every house, every alliance had one.

That was new and that was bad. Scar and Grian were so isolated in their desert that they didn’t even know about such a huge alliance forming. It would be just like Scott said. Everyone else against four of them.

This unknown feeling flared up in Xelqua again. He didn’t even care about his disguise right now. The man hovered in the air, all four of his eyes open, searching for a specific man without his shirt.

And when Grian spotted Scar by the Crastle with Etho, the watcher didn’t hesitate to practically dive down, falling onto the vex with open arms, tossing both of them on the ground.

The grass was wet and cold, the sticks and pebbles were digging into Grian’s palms and legs, most likely into Scar’s back, but the avian didn’t care. He found it fun, he found it comforting, it made him laugh, it made him feel so much he didn’t even notice the chocolate and fruitiness in his mouth.

“Grian?” Scar whispered, putting his arms on blonde’s cheeks, pulling Xelqua’s face down to his own, obscuring Etho’s vision. “G, your eyes,” the vex added in an even quieter tone, not trying to get up.

“What are you two whispering about?” Etho’s calm voice pulled Grian out of his emotional knots, remembering to close his top eyes and keep the disguise in place.

“Just telling Grian how he scared me,” Scar quickly chimed in. His smile was bright and clear even if the vex still tasted like a nervous and scared cat.

Scar tried to sit up, push himself up, hoping that Grian would get off and help him. But Grian didn’t want that. The feeling of having this warm body in his embrace, wrapped under his wings, was too nice. The vex no longer tasted like fruits, more like bitter honey.

“Right,” Etho’s tail twitched, his black eye was boring into Grian with the same expression as Scott’s blue eyes did. Did Scar reveal Xelqua’s secret to the fox as well? “Back to the point. I didn’t tell you that, Scar. I’m just sharing my insight because I know you. We’re still friends.”

Scar’s flavour changed to fruity, fizzy and slightly stale. His arms finally wrapped around Grian, his eyebrows frowned.

“We are. It’s just harmless fun,” The vex squeezed Grian even tighter, perhaps seeking some sort of comfort.

The avian let that happen, digging his face into Scar’s shoulder. He wanted to speak up, to say that he was Scar’s friend, but now was not the time. For some reason Etho tasted like chocolate and Grian felt like a prey bird on a fox's plate.

“Let’s hope it is and when Xisuma gets us everything will be left behind,” Etho huffed and left. His tail twitching, his ears lowered down. Something serious must’ve happened and Grian had missed it.

“Grian, we need to get home,” Scar said, but didn’t make any effort to get up from the grass. Not this time at least.

“What did you two talk about?” Grian raised his head, staring into the green eyes with cyan pupils. Eyes that suddenly were so serious and full of guilt.

“I’ll tell you home, we need to-“

“Did you also tell Etho about me?” Grian squeezed Scar’s shoulders. The talons on his hands were digging into unprotected flesh but the vex didn’t seem to react much. He just tasted more like a caramel.

“I’m sorry,” Scar whispered and for a moment Grian felt betrayed again. “For some reason when I told Scott and Jimmy I didn’t think you would mind. I should’ve discussed it with you first, it’s your secret, not mine.”

“So you told Etho as well?”

“No, no,” The vex chuckled. His embrace became softer, gentler. “I just needed to apologise first. Clearly that entire thing left you feeling uncomfortable. I just thought you wouldn’t care.”

“I care,” Grian interrupted yet again. He leaned down, so close to Scar’s face that blonde hair was touching vex’s skin. “I want to care, I want to learn how to. I want us to be friends. Actually friends. At least until this game ends.”

“You mean your life?” Scar softly smiled, moving Grian’s hair away, so it wasn’t tickling him.

“No. The deal ends with my first life. But, if you let me, I’d like to stay with you longer.” Grian was full of that weird feeling again. That rapid heartbeat, that warmth. Scar was making him feel alive, like his own person and not a part of the machine that is the watcher society.

Scar’s head fell into the wet grass, his lips spread into a smile, showing off sharp teeth. The quiet, cold night air was filled with warm laughter. The dusty-blue hands got buried into the blonde hair, moving around flowers. A few colourful blossoms fell down, framing Scar’s head in a pretty arrangement.

“Purple suits you,” Grian whispered. Maybe instead of leaving the void, Xelqua would be able to convince Scar to move to the void. The problem with such a plan were other watchers and Scar’s need for oxygen.

“And red suits you,” Scar whispered back, fixing a poppy next to the avian’s wings on the head. “And I would absolutely love for you to stay with me longer. Forever, if you will.” The vex had a cheeky smile, his tone of voice playful and teasing. He tasted absolutely disgusting, but Grian didn’t mind.

“I’ll tell you a secret, we can’t leave forever,” The avian sat up, letting Scar get from the grass. Xelqua was sure that the vex suspected as much, his smile gave it away, but the joke continued.

“No way!” Scar put his hand dramatically on the forehead. “And here I thought watchers were immortal gods!”

“That’s a lie to keep you all afraid,” Grian giggled. For some reason being honest, treating Scar like equal, was way more fun than being equal with any other watcher.

Scar’s hands collected flowers from the grass, putting them back in Grian’s hair. Carefully and methodically, like he was painting, creating a beautiful portrait.

Grian will care. Until the end of this game he will care. About Scar, about those who he cares about, even about Jimmy. Grian will try to be a player, a person. And as long as he has Scar to cover up for his mistakes, as long as watchers wouldn’t look too close into Xelqua’s emotions, he can get away with this. He can try.

Chapter Text

The new nest, the one Grian built by actual rules, was far more comfortable than the last one. It was softer, warmer, and had enough space for both desert bandits.

At least, that was the name the Dogwarts and their allies gave to Scar and Grian.

It turned out the red flags Grian saw were a bad sign. It turned out Etho had talked to Scar about the upcoming war.

The prospect of the battle and bloodshed didn’t seem to worry either Grian nor Scar. Unsurprisingly, both of them were somewhat excited. Grian would get to eat, and Scar might steal something to munch on. Death wasn’t frightening to those who knew it was fake.

The avian had his wing around Scar, acting like a big fluffy blanket in the chilly desert night. They tried to sleep, but their meaningless conversations kept them awake longer.

“So, why did Etho taste like he was about to kill us, if he wasn’t angry at you or didn’t know what I am?” Grian pointed out. The question came after a long silence; the blond man didn’t want the conversation to end.

“He was angry? He sounded fine to me.” Scar chuckled, turning to face his avian.

“He tasted like anger.”

“I knew you ate emotions, but I didn’t expect them to taste different.” Scar’s smile grew wider. It was barely noticeable in the dark of the night, but Grian saw it. He saw it; didn’t taste it. The avian wanted to see emotions. “How do I taste?”

“Disgusting, Scar,” Xelqua laughed. He learned to do it more often, more naturally. It felt like he was always supposed to laugh, but void took it away from him.

Perhaps it had to do with the nature of his kind. Perhaps all watchers can feel and care, but any emotion gets eaten in the void before it can even reach the brain. Perhaps living in a big group wasn’t a need for survival but a need for control.

“Aw, I’m sorry, songbird, I’ll try to taste better.”

Grian didn’t want Scar to taste better. If anything he wanted Scar to taste as bad for the watchers as possible. Because it would mean that his vex was happy. And Grian wanted Scar to be happy more than to eat tasty food.

Remembering this thought in the morning was a painful experience.

The pair were woken by the sound of shattering glass and Pizza’s cries. The arrows with red tips and white patterns were stuck in the sandy coloured walls and floors. Those arrows stood out like a sore spot in the otherwise soft golden view.

Scar didn’t seem to care about his own safety, rushing out of the sandcastle so quickly he forgot to grab his cane. Grian just rushed after him, helping vex to not fall.

But no arrows were actually shot at them. All the bloody-red sticks were aimed at their llama, now stuck in the flesh and fur of the dead animal.

One of the arrows had a scroll attached to it. An official declaration of the war Etho had warned about the night before. It happened too fast and cruelly. The desert duo had expected another week before this would happen.

Grian didn’t feel anything. Scar looked calm as well: his eyes were dull, his shoulders slumped. The vex was sitting on the sand by the body of milky fur, petting its head like it was still alive. Scar looked calm, yet Xelqua couldn’t ignore the cloying taste that was coming off him.

Something in Grian shifted. He couldn’t understand what he was missing. Why did Scar taste like his heart was broken but Grian couldn’t see it? Usually, such disgustingly sweet taste was accompanied by tears, yelling, curses, and poor breathing. And yet, Scar looked nothing like it.

Grian wanted to see Scar’s emotions, he wanted to see them as other players would’ve, like empathetic creatures did, not by the taste. However, the more the watcher tried to piece together what Scar was feeling, the more he noticed the taste of emotions around him.

Somewhere not too far away, Grian tasted an acrid flavour of happiness. That’s when Xelqua felt something for himself. His wings got spread, he wanted nothing more than to make a pit under the Dogwarts members, let them all fall down to their death and never help them out.

Let them die from starvation and dehydration, slowly and painfully.

However Scar’s hand gripped onto Grian’s poncho, tugging him down. The avian could deal with his anger later. Right now, Scar needed him more than Xelqua needed revenge. Scar needed to be protected and cared for.

Grian sat beside Scar, wrapping his brown wing around the taller man, just as Jimmy had taught him. For some reason Grian’s heart was pounding, his senses were heightened, like he was afraid, but Xelqua couldn’t understand why.

Was it because Scar actually needed care right now and Grian was the worst person to do it? All he could do right now was silently sit by Scar, next to Pizza, and on the sand that was turning red just like the arrows.

The distant laughter, the sound of explosions and celebrations were annoying. They made Grian’s wings twitch and frown from time to time.

When one of the explosions broke the stairs, the avian’s frustration reached its highest point, causing him to do something he didn’t know he was capable of. Grian squawked. For a moment there was a silence between two of the desert bandits, all four of Xelqua’s eyes wide open.

Scar also finally looked away from Pizza. His cloying flavour was mixed with subtle honey, his eyes just as wide as Grian’s. After what felt like forever, the vex moved closer, putting his forehead on Xelqua’s shoulder and quietly laughed.

But that laughter sounded wrong. And it turned worse as Scar’s body began to shake and the sound that Grian wanted to hear more of got replaced with quiet sobs.

Xelqua wasn’t qualified to deal with this. He felt frozen, despite the scorching desert Sun.

Grian’s hand moved to Scar’s hair very slowly and very hesitantly. He didn’t know why he was doing it. He just remembered how Scott held Jimmy and tried to mimic it. He tried to mimic how Etho and Cleo were holding Scar after his first death. He tried to mimic what watchers would’ve deemed pathetic, disgusting, and wrong.

But Grian didn’t feel like it was disgusting or pathetic. It felt wrong. Not because this action was meaningless or useless, but because it shouldn’t be Grian who holds Scar like this.

Xelqua was responsible for their suffering. Xelqua was responsible for holding them all in this cage. He can let them out, right now, set them free and let them be happy, but he wasn’t doing that. He wasn’t even planning on ever doing it.

Xelqua was a selfish man. Selfish and greedy. He wanted his game to succeed. To get the praise from Their Grace, to get promotion, perhaps be let to participate in trials or never need to hunt for himself anymore. He didn’t want his game to fail in order to avoid punishment, to avoid his eyes being gouged out, his wings being ripped out, or his life being taken away in general.

Grian was a selfish man because he didn’t want to let Scar go.

But his hands and wings were wrapped around Scar, caressing his rough skin from that fateful explosion weeks, if not months, ago. Scar’s hands were digging into Grian’s feathers on the back, his tears were coming through the fabric of Grian’s poncho and shirt, his head was still buried in the avian’s shoulders.

It had been hours, for sure, before Scar moved away. The Dogwarts left a long time ago, the Sun was high above, and it wasn’t a quiet golden morning anymore. It was unbearably hot. Grian’s wings felt like they were on fire as they served a purpose of creating shade for a half-naked man.

Scar needed to have something over his shoulders so he wouldn’t get burned. And with upcoming war he might need something to protect him not only from the Sun but from actual weapons as well.

“Let’s get you to Jimmy and Scott,” Grian whispered, gently rubbing Scar’s cheeks to wipe away the leftover tears and salt. “You need someone to take care of you.”

The vex didn’t respond. He frowned for a moment, his hands squeezed Grian tighter, but he didn’t protest.

Xelqua helped him up, helped him walk back inside the sandcastle, ignoring all the red arrows, glass shards and broken flower pots. The floor was a mess and Grian was so relieved that Scar had his shoes by the nest and not the door, avoiding all the shards to get inside.

The flower forest was quiet. It felt surreal after the attack on the Monopoly Mountain. The weather was less harsh, more cooler. Only now did Grian’s wings start to ache and feel like a burden.

Subconsciously the avian spread them, letting wings to fall down and drag behind him. Even if the dirt and grass got stuck between the feathers, it was way nicer than the burn of the desert Sun.

Scott and Jimmy didn’t utter a word. Perhaps they saw something that Grian wasn’t able to see on Scar’s face that gave away his distress. Perhaps they heard distant explosions and made conclusions. Whatever it was, Grian felt left out and rightfully so.

The commission inside the house started quickly. Jimmy sat Scar down at the table, brought blankets, pillows and other useless items in Grian’s opinion. But after a moment of observation it became clear that Jimmy was acting on an instinct.

The canary was making a nest to comfort his friend. An instinct that Grian didn’t have no matter how hard he pretended to be an avian or care.

Scott rushed off outside, coming back with a bucket of water and some flowers, putting the entire thing to boil. The sweet smell was calming and definitely fitting the flavour in Grian’s mouth.

A few moments later, the elf brought three cups to the table and set them in front of Jimmy, Scar, and himself.

Grian understood the hint. He wasn’t welcome here. Not right now at least, not by Scott. Xelqua couldn’t care, couldn’t provide empathy or sympathy, couldn’t give Scar emotional support he needed. So without further ado, Grian left.

He can clean their house, so when Scar returns home it would be safe and comfortable for him.

The process of cleaning wasn’t hard. It was not hard for a being that was able to control matter around him. Glass shards were risen up from the ground and mended back together, swiftly installed back in their respective places. Flowerpots went through the same transformation, the purple glow leaving freshly tied ribbons around the rims.

Grian wanted to do so much more. Unfortunately, he didn’t know what else he could do. Aimlessly, the avian walked outside. For a moment he wanted to head back to the flower forest, to check on Scar. Or maybe go to the Dogwarts and turn snowy terrain into hell on earth. But something white and red caught Grian’s attention.

Pizza’s body was still on the sand, the arrows still in and around it. Frustration was building up in him again and with a flick of a hand all arrows were gone, evaporated from their very own existence. Maybe he should’ve saved them to use later, but they made plenty of arrows for Scar before.

Flies were the next thing to disappear from existence. Grian wasn’t going to let those parasites disrespect the body of an animal that was so important to Scar.

Pizza deserved better. Xelqua’s magic allowed it to have a better place to rest. The planks of the dark oak flew out of the chests, out of the Sandcastle door, onto the edge of the Monopoly mountain, and turned into a carefully crafted coffin. Xelqua knew that was an appropriate thing to do for people.

Watchers never had funerals. Grian never attended one, never even heard that a funeral would be held. When a watcher dies, their body is being thrown away. No care, no respect. It’s a body, it’s useless, regardless of who it belonged to. Watchers didn’t care and for the first time Grian realised just how much they were missing out on.

Grian carefully moved Pizza in the coffin. He cleaned it from the blood, cut the last bits of fur, and covered it from the burning sun. He didn’t close the coffin, yet, to let Scar say his goodbyes if he so desired.

Moments later, Grian found himself sitting on the front porch of the Sandcastle, among the potted lilacs, turning soft milky fur into black and red threads. Grian never really worked with fabric before. It always was taken care of by somebody else. And now the avian was making a cape by himself for someone other than him. For no reason other than just because he can.

Jimmy told Grian that care is making sure that the person is happy, safe, and healthy. And Grian can try to do that for Scar.

Threads were not working with him, his talons cut a few prematurely. Of course Grian could just use his magic to fix the mistake, to weave the fabric swiftly and with no trouble, but he didn’t want that. He wanted to make these gifts for Scar, just like Scar made poncho for Grian.

Besides the cape to hide Scar from the harsh sunrays, the avian made him a leather glove and armour for a left arm. The vex was letting Grian perch on his left shoulder and on more than one occasion the avian pierced or scratched Scar with his talons.

Grian was working with leftover threads, making some sort of counter flag to Dogwarts one as they appeared. Ren had a scar around his neck, a very clean one. Clearly he didn’t fight back whatever decapitated him. Martyn held an axe, ready to protect his precious king.

It was really a funny sight. A dog that Xelqua added to this game to get betrayed and hurt, to be just that - someone’s dog, suddenly became a king with followers and knights. Grian was wondering if he should mess with Martyn too, to whisper something to him as a watcher, but decided against it.

“What do you need?” Grian hissed, raising a cloud of sand as he perched higher on the Sandcastle, how a real avian would do to intimidate.

“Is Scar here?” Ren spoke up, fixing his sunglasses and taking off the fluffy red royal cape. It looked heavy, soaked in blood, and warm. Opposite of what you should wear in the desert.

“No, but it doesn’t mean I can’t protect our home by myself,” The avian pushed inside the Sandcastle his craft projects, hiding them in a safe space. “So leave.”

“We’re not here to fight yee, Grian,” Ren was speaking a bit weirdly. Grian didn’t remember him talking like this before. Perhaps the power trip and bloodlust of last life was messing with the dog's head. “We’re here to save and free yee from the hands of that vex.”

Ironically, Ren seemed to think of names and nicknames like Grian did and not like Scar. Clearly he was using “vex” as a way to show disrespect or an insult, while keep calling Grian by his name. Perhaps he was trying to manipulate the watcher.

“I heard your deal with Scar, we know you’re innocent,” Martyn chimed in.

“You couldn’t. I made sure we were out of the earshot for everyone.”

“I’m an elf, Grian,” Martyn flicked his pointy ear. “My senses are enhanced, hearing is my specialty.”

“So what? You heard mine and Scar’s deal, good work. I don’t need saving.” Grian fluffed his feathers. He still was angry from Pizza's death and now those two were testing his patience.

“We know you’re forced to do what Scar wants you to do. We know Scar forced you to tear Skizz’s arms out, after all you had no reasons to.” Martyn pulled the axe from his back and into his hands, holding the weapon tightly. “And I heard Scar order you to avoid death, so we’re not going to ask your permission to kill you.”

“You think Scar came up with the plan to kill Skizz?” Grian leaned on the edge, his talons digging into the sand bricks. “I’m insulted. And he would be too, after all you must know him, Ren.” The dog hybrid’s ears twitched and Xelqua smirked. His words hit the spot. “Scar was against hunting, killing, and eating any of you. It was my idea. So think again if it is me who needs to be saved.”

“This must be another lie this man is forced to say, my lord!” The elf turned to Ren, visibly expecting something. The way his speech pattern changed when addressing the dog hybrid was unnatural and practically embarrassing.

The Red King looked away, ears low. His hands were squeezing red bulky fabric like his life depended on it. And perhaps it did.

“Me laddie, I believe your judgement, make it right,” Ren spoke like he was giving a command, but it was different to how Scar was ordering Grian around. It looked like Martyn held more power than Ren, that Ren was just a face for everyone to adore while the real ruler was the elf in black winter coat and flip flops.

“One wrong step and I gouge your eyes out to leave you forever blind, Martyn,” Grian flapped his wings, just for safety measure to avoid potential danger. “I really don’t want to fight right now. You gave us an invitation to the war and we’re accepting it. Next week, here. Let’s see how you can handle the desert Sun.”

Grian didn’t know why he said it. Why he went into dramatics or why he flew in front of the Sun to force blind the pair. He didn’t know. It felt right to do it that way, it felt right to force them away. Begrudgingly, but they left. And only then Grian started to process how hard his heart was hammering against his chest, how he was holding his breath.

But most importantly how he didn’t focus on the taste in his mouth. He was reading their emotions, poorly, but through their faces, their actions, their voices. Grian was learning how to see emotions instead of taste them.

Jimmy walked Scar back the same evening. Both of them looked surprised that Grian made a coffin for Pizza but no one questioned. Scar said his goodbyes. Even Jimmy paid his respect. Then Grian closed the coffin.

Despite Scar’s offering to Jimmy to stay the night, the canary politely refused. He needed to inform Scott about the new set date for the war. Grian asked Jimmy to bring the elf over in a couple days to discuss plans and that was it.

Scar and Grian were left alone. Truly alone. No other living creature on this mountain.

The vex reached for the door handle, twisting it and creeping the door open.

“Wait!” Grian jumped in front of him, hiding the view with his wings. “Wait, I don’t think I made it right!”

“G, I don’t care. As long as the glass is not directly in our nest, it’s fine.” Scar sounded just like most watchers in the void: empty. Grian couldn’t help but feel guilty. Scar shouldn’t sound like that.

“No, no, just… Trust me,” The avian extended his hand, waiting for the dusty-blue hand to take the invitation. “Let me lead you.”

Scar did follow Grian’s lead. Not how Grian had pictured it, not with a smile or a laugh, not with cheeky remarks or clumsy movements. Just mechanical empty motion.

After green eyes got closed and Grian was sure that the grip was secure, he led Scar inside the Sandcastle, sitting him down in the middle of the room.

“Don’t open your eyes yet,” Grian muttered, quickly grabbing his handmade presents and carefully folding them in front of the vex.

Again, for some reason, Grian felt afraid. Afraid to do something wrong and make Scar even more upset. Afraid to fail at this “care” or make Scar think that this is a manipulation. Therefore everything needed to be perfect.

The light of the setting sun was shining through the windows, eliminating room in its golden calm glow, just like this morning. The flowers were arranged on the windowsills to catch as many rays of light as possible, bouncing light colouring sandy walls in soft reds and purples. And Grian was sitting directly in front of Scar, nervous like a puppy.

“Go on…” The watcher whispered, staring at green eyes that slowly opened. For a moment they were dull, they were empty and wrong. Emerald orbs run around the room, each little movement making them open a bit wider, smile a bit more, even if that smile still looked wrong.

Eventually Scar’s eyes landed on the black cape and leather armour. His hand hesitantly reached for it before looking back at Grian.

“Did you make this?” The vex whispered. “All of this.”

“Yes, I…” Grian scooched closer. “I’m sorry if this is not what you need, I don’t know,” the blonde started to mutter, fast and somewhat desperate. The only reason why he didn’t finish his sentence was Scar’s hand that changed its trajectory and grabbed Grian’s one, intertwining their fingers together.

“You made this for me?” Scar softly laughed, lowering his head. The light behind the vex hit Grian in the eyes, forcing the avian to squeeze them shut. “Void, and here I thought you can’t care.”

Grian felt Scar’s shadow grow bigger, covering him from the direct light again, his body moved closer. Grian opened his black eyes to find Scar smiling at him. Softly, warmly, the type of smile that made Xelqua feel weird and wrong, something he shouldn’t feel as a watcher and especially not for a player.

“I can’t care, Scar. I just tried to imitate, I did what I thought would be right for this care thing.”

“That's the entire point, my songbird. No one really knows how to care,” Scar’s hand let go of Grian and he started to unfold the cape, examining it. “You just do it because you think it’s right. There are no rules, no checklist. Just the feeling and desire to make it better for the person you care for.”

Scar put the black cape around his shoulder. Grian didn’t intend him to wear it like that, but it probably was smarter if the avian still wanted a stable perch on his other shoulder.

“And in my opinion you’re nailing caring for someone who claims to be unable to do so.” Scar snickered. Perhaps because Grian knew he was looking stupid right now. Grian for sure looked stupid and pathetic.

The avian’s vision was blurred, the feathers under his eyes grew heavier and eventually his cheeks felt hot and wet. Grian didn’t know why he was crying. He shouldn’t be able to. He never saw or heard about the watcher crying. And here he was, with tears running down his cheeks.

“Scar, I think you broke me.”

“Yeah, I felt the same way when I met Hermits for the first time.”

“Scar, I want to strangle you.”

“Okay, this is weird, but…” Scar opened his arms. “I can offer a hug?”

Grian didn’t need a second invitation. He moved closer, hugging the vex as tightly as possible, squeezing the air out of his lungs but being careful to not actually hurt him. Xelqua felt broken but it didn’t feel bad. It was just scary. It was scary because Xelqua wasn’t sure if he could hide his newborn feelings from watchers anymore.

Chapter Text

It was probably the first time ever that Jimmy and Scott visited the desert together. The canary looked nervous, pacing back and forth inside the Sandcastle; the elf sat calmly at the table with papers, scribbling something down; the vex was sitting right beside him, nibbling on a pencil with too much force; and Grian was in the nest, just observing.

“I shouldn’t have told them to come here…” Eventually the watcher broke the choking silence, digging his hands into golden hair.

“What do you mean, G?” Scar almost jumped up at the sound of Grian’s voice, sounding all condescending, and warm, and soft, and oh so loving, Grian wanted to find it pathetic but he couldn’t.

“I mean, that the war is now coming to our home! I should’ve pushed it to their territory…”

“No, you actually did good,” Scott mumbled, not taking his eyes off the paper, crossing something away from there.

“Right, like getting bloodshed and destruction at our place is better than at theirs.”

“No, no, Grian,” Jimmy seemed to be happy to have a purpose. The canary slipped into the nest, wrapping his broken wing around Grian. “Scott was serious, it’s better to have this one on your territory.”

“Sorry, flower boys, but I agree with G on this one. I thought it was better to avoid getting the war at your doorstep,” Scar leaned back in his chair, looking back and forth between Jimmy and Scott with some smugness. Perhaps because he was the only carnivore with an actual fighting instinct.

“Okay, clearly you weren’t raised with any actual battlefield education,” Scott looked away from his own notes, almost proudly smiling. “Jimmy and I are crowned princes of our respective empires. We actually know how to handle wars.”

“Oh,” Scar’s cheeks got redder from the embarrassment. Grian couldn’t help but laugh at the sight of his companion.

“Yes, usually you try to avoid the war directly at your territory due to the destruction, collateral damage, civilians, and so forth. But you, guys, have the entire desert to choose from,” Jimmy spread his arms in the air and fell backwards, giggling like a child.

“Which gives you the benefit of knowing the battlefield and preparing it…” Scott paused, sulking. “Only I'm not sure how much we can prepare in five days.”

“Hey, let’s not forget the environmental benefits,” Jimmy sat back up. “Dogwarts are living in the cold woods with occasional snow. They are not prepared for the desert. If anything we can just stall until they get overwhelmed and exhausted.”

It was weird to see Jimmy so responsible. From his file Grian assumed the canary was nothing more than a nervous goofy guy that would die easily and start the wave of panic among players. And so far it was true until this moment.

The more Grian observed, the more he spent time with the canary, the more he realised just how much more he was then just a sacrifice. He wasn’t just some words on the paper in the void, he wasn’t a character in the game. Jimmy, just like the rest of them, was a person. A complex being with his own share of layers.

It was making Grian feel weirdly envious. He wanted too to be so much more than what the watcher society told him to be, expected him to be.

“It’s a risky plan, if any of them know how battlefield works, they might be preparing for this,” Scott hummed, but made a note.

“Uh… I don’t think any of the Hermits would know that,” Scar chimed, pointing out something on the paper where the elf just scribbled.

“Would Joel be a problem?” Grian asked too casually. He didn’t think it would sound like that, but after seeing Scott and Jimmy visibly freeze and slowly glance at each other, it was clear that the question was supposed to be a bit more serious.

“Do you think we would be able to convert him?” Jimmy started, getting out of the nest and rushing over to Scott’s side, leaning over the elf and looking at the papers. “I mean… Uh… here’s no one else that’s in our circle, he might prioritise us, right?”

“Joel is too invested in the war and objectively speaking we’re on the losing side, he might not listen to us,” Scott sounded less confident now.

“So we shouldn’t rely on the temperature, big problem, we can come up with something else,” Scar tried to lighten the mood but to everyone it was clear - without some miracle they would lose.

“You do have something,” Grian pointed at himself, standing up and walking over to the desk. He leaned on Scar’s shoulders, looking over the notes and makeshift map that they made earlier today. “I can turn this place upside down easily, turn it into a trap or a huge land mine, we don’t need to worry about time.”

“Songbird, I’m so glad you’re a watcher right now,” Scar squeezed Grian’s hand. Not painfully, more like a makeshift hug without needing for him to stand up or getting awkward.

“Right. How crazy can we go?” Scott put the pen down on the paper, ready to brainstorm again.

“As crazy as your imagination would allow,” Grian was sure he was already in trouble with his kind, so what is one more crime? It probably wouldn’t be noticed in comparison to his emotional state now.

The preparation was simple enough for Grian: turn everything into a huge trap, the Sandcastle, the desert sand, explode them all by a flick of a trigger.

Jimmy and Scar were watching in awe how easily Grian raised half of the desert, how some of the sand got turned into the TNT or lava, how wires stretched underneath, how carefully it was all laid back down.

Scott, as always, was more cautious. He wasn’t looking at the magical show, but rather at the watcher himself, paying attention to his movements, like any moment Grian might turn on them. Something inside of Grian was painfully squeezing from such glares, but he buried it deep inside.

“Who should be in charge of the doomsday lever?” Grian asked, finishing building up a small bunker for someone to hide there.

“Probably you, Grian,” Scott carefully stepped closer, right on top of the traps. “If something goes wrong, you’d be able to use your magic there unnoticed.”

“No, it should be me and Jim,” Scar quickly protested.

“Huh? No way!” Jimmy spread his wings, still broken, forever broken as long as he was in the game. “You’re the only actual predator here and I’m having this weird bloodthirst! We need to fight!”

“No, Jim, we can’t fight, one,” Scar got cut off by a violent coughing fit. His hand reached for his throat, like he couldn’t breathe, like something was squeezing it shut.

Deal.

His own magic was not letting him break the rules, the promise he made. To not tell the rules of this game to any living soul.

Xelqua couldn’t help himself but smirk.

“Scar wanted to say, that one of you can’t walk without a support and another one can’t curl his fists,” Grian stepped in, wrapping his wing around Scar. The watcher could’ve told them the truth, what Scar wanted to say: one more death and they are out.

But he didn’t. It would ruin the surprise, the emotions, the feast. Not that Grian was lying about what he said, Jimmy and Scar had far too much physical damage from their previous deaths, they’d be useless in close combat.

Scott didn’t seem to believe that, but it didn’t matter. Grian managed to convince Jimmy and that was enough.

But Scar’s green eyes looked at Grian with disappointment that buried its way into the watcher’s mind.

It was the morning of war. Early, the Sun had barely shown its face, but it was there. Grian was finishing the potions, Scar was making some arrows. It was too quiet for the war.

Their plan was simple: Scott and Grian would lure the Dogwarts in, Scar and Jimmy would set up traps, finish off those who won’t die in the explosion or fall into lava. The main target was Ren and at least his head should fall down.

Which also meant that Scar was the main target for the Red Army. If everything went south, Scar needed to leave. He made temporary alliances with Joel and the Crastle. It was a miracle what this man could achieve with a few sweet words and pretty glances.

“So this might be it, huh?” Scar stood up carefully stocking glass-tipped arrows into his quiver. “You might get free from me.”

“Or you might get free from me,” Grian whispered without much of a thought. He didn’t know why he still believed that Scar was just as trapped in this relationship as Grian. The watcher was convinced that Scar wanted to leave this game, this desert, their home.

“True,” The vex stepped closer, taking Grian’s hand and turning him around. “But my offer still stands. You’re welcome to join Hermitcraft. Or at least visit us.” Scar set the cane aside and Grian instinctively wrapped his arm around the taller man. What was he doing?

Scar’s steps were careful, mindless, at least to Grian’s knowledge. There was some pattern, but the watcher couldn’t figure out why Scar was even doing such steps, why he was humming some melody or why he had dragged Grian into this.

“You can visit me,” Scar whispered, still stepping into the small circle, like the floor beneath them is not filled with explosives.

The Sun was rising up, shining through the windows of the castle and turning everything into a soft golden hue. It was peaceful and Grian wanted to stay here forever, in this desert, in this lifeless land with the man who cared and loved.

“You look like a Sun right now, G,” Scar snickered, leaning slightly back, almost admiring the avian. Grian could only imagine how his golden hair practically glowed in the soft morning light, how flowers looked like the rays of the Sun. “Maybe I should be calling you the light of my life?” The vex laughed, that warm sound that made Grian’s knees feel weak and stomach twist into knots.

“If I’m your Sun then you as well might be my Earth,” Grian giggled. Surprisingly there were no suffocating feelings, no punishment for breaking the deal. Maybe he somehow found a loophole? Or maybe the entire time he remembered the deal incorrectly and it wasn’t about the names entirely.

Whatever it was, it felt wrong now to call Scar by anything other than his name. It felt like he was treating him as food like that.

“You look absolutely miserable right now, songbird,” Scar leaned closer.

“I don’t think I like nicknames.”

“Sorry, I’ll stop using them,” Scar moved away, but Grian didn’t want that. He didn’t mean that.

“No!” The avian pulled Scar back closer. “I don’t like using them myself. Feels like I’m diminishing you to food again. I… love your stupid names for me.”

Scar’s smile turned into a grin.

“Oh, Grian!” He hugged the avian, so tightly that the air left Grian’s lungs. The watcher lost his balance and by default Scar did too without the support, both of them falling to the floor laughing.

Grian didn’t want to think how this might be the last happy moment shared between them. This thought will come later, naturally, with red flags showing in the air and desert Sun blazing down.

Grian was perched on the top of the bunker, talking with Scar and Jimmy about everything and nothing. Aimless conversations that felt like the last one.

Jimmy was sharing about how he missed the comfort of soft bed, his cods, his older cousin. A spoiled prince, yet so grounded.

From time to time Scott popped into the conversation, expressing his concerns regarding the political situation back home, now that three of the crowned princes disappeared for almost two months.

Scar was talking about his cat Jellie, so excitedly, that it made everyone soften. He wasn’t concerned about her wellbeing, mentioning Mumbo and Cub that would take care of her. Not that anyone in the group knew those people, but everyone understood the need to grasp onto the memories of home.

Everyone had something to share except for Grian. His home could be summarised into a couple words, there wasn’t any warmth or longing to return to void, just simple emptiness. Xelqua felt nothing towards watchers, because everyone in the void felt nothing.

The conversation got cut short when Scott got shot in the head, falling down to the ground immediately. The plan was off to a terrible start, their conversation distracted them from looking for an enemy approach.

It went worse when no one got hurt from the explosion, no one fell into the trap, ironically enough except for Grian.

The lava was hot, even with potions. The poison was making him feel dizzy, unable to fly out or keep his disguise. No one was really around the back of the bunker, all the commotion was outside, next to the crater, so Grian should be safe.

His eyes were open, his wings were getting darker, both from the smoke and fallen disguise. It wasn’t too obvious, Grian tried to keep his third dimensional shell intact, but there were cracks.

And it was unclear if Martyn paused for a minute because he saw them or because he was enjoying Grian’s suffering. The last thing that Xelqua could recall was a sight of an elf drawing his bow.

And then it was nothing. Not even black, just nothing, he and his thoughts alone.

Was this what happens after death? Or was it just something that Xelqua had made specifically for the game. Perhaps next time he could make this experience more memorable, maybe still letting them see surroundings or hear others. Maybe lean into the game aspect and give them a score out of ten on the performance. That would be fun, wouldn’t it be?

The feeling of agonising pain shot through Grian's body, circling back into his brain, skull. Sounds were the next to return, hearing eerie quietness. No fight, no screaming, just lava, wind and rustling of the fabric.

And then with a loud gasp Grian opened his eyes only to see Scott pulling him out of a lava pit.

“You’re awake,” Scott’s eyes were watery, his pupils small, his body shaking. “So Jim should wake up soon as well,” The elf stood up and practically ran to the bunker.

Grian didn’t understand what happened, his head still hurting, but he followed. He wanted to see Scar, now that Grian wasn’t obligated to stay. He wanted to show that he wanted to stay and so much more without strings attached.

But Scar wasn’t in the bunker. There was only Jimmy. Or Jimmy’s body with the hole instead of the one of his eyes.

Scott was gushing over him, trying to do… something. Healing potions, talking to him, but minutes rolled and Jimmy didn’t move. His body showed no signs of regeneration.

“Why isn’t he waking up!?” Scott yelled, turning to Grian with tears streaming down his face.

Grian for a moment was silent. His hand twitched, wanting to give the elf comfort, a hug or something. To soften the blow of what he was about to say. But something stopped him.

Perhaps it was a sight of Scott’s sword, perhaps the memories of his cold gazes and only three cups of tea on the table, perhaps it was the lack of warm green eyes around to guide his morality.

Something prompted Xelqua to smile. Wide and sharp.

“Why do you think he doesn’t?” The watcher paused, searching for something in blue eyes that would signal realisation. But the cloying flavour in his mouth was equally enough. “He’s dead.”

Scott jumped up, grabbing Grian by his poncho, rough and strong, causing a few flowers to fall out of golden brown hair.

“What do you mean dead!? We can’t die! We come back to life!”

“Who told you that?” Grian gently pushed Scott away, quivering his wings to dust off sand and rocks. “I certainly didn’t.”

“You knew!” Scott grabbed the sword but then dropped it, hissing like he got burned. Even now, in this situation, Scar’s magic seemed to do its trick. “You knew and didn’t tell us! Does Scar know? It doesn’t matter! You died. You’re free. Be gone.” Scott turned away, picking up Jimmy’s body. “Be gone, Game Master.”

Scott left the bunker, the desert. Grian was left behind, alone, again.

Well, not for long.

“Wow, that was delicious!” The annoyingly sweet and fake voice chimed in. Grian didn’t need to turn around to know who it was. Qanilu. Why were they here? They weren’t the type to go out of their way for a visit.

None of the watchers really were.

Qanilu leaned on Grian’s shoulder, dusting it off beforehand like he was something filthy.

“Wish I could’ve followed him, but alas, Xelqua, I’m here for you,” The watcher was softly smiling, the same smile that never left their lips, the same smile that meant nothing at all.

“What? Are you here to take me back? Am I being executed?” Grian didn’t even try to fight it. It seemed like Qanilu had eaten his emotions and perhaps confused Grian’s heartbreak for Scott’s.

“What?” Qanilu giggled, that fake and practiced pitch to be perfect. Nothing like Scar’s warm laughter or even Grian’s own explosive and natural one. “Of course not, Xelqua. Players will question your absence. Well, those who do not know what you are.”

So Grian was now ordered to stay in the game. For some reason it felt bitter. Even in this simple situation his autonomy was taken away. Even if Grian had wanted to stay here before, now it no longer felt like his choice.

“As for the punishment, I don’t know what you’re talking about. Yes, some were unhappy that you acted behind their back, but clearly a game is a success.” Qanilu waved their hands, opening a portal and stepping through. Grian figured they wanted him to follow.

And stepping back into the void felt overwhelming. There was no scorching Sun, no smell of sand, flowers or blood, nothing.

“Look,” Qanilu pointed at the portal to the Third Life. And Grian could feel an overwhelming taste coming from it. “I guess you couldn’t taste everything within the game, but now we have food for months!”

Qanilu stepped closer to Grian, putting their hands on his shoulders, leaning close to whisper:

“They are proud of you, Xelqua, and can’t wait to see how the next game would look like.”

It didn’t feel right. This game wasn’t even done and higher society already decided that there will be another one. Xelqua had no authority in this, did he?

“Is Scar still alive?” Grian asked without a second thought. The deal wasn’t holding him anymore and Xelqua could call Scar however he wanted. But it didn’t feel right.

Xelqua waved his hands and looked for brown hair, green eyes, and black cape Grian had made. Seeing Scar alive and well with the Crastle was soothing.

Seeing Qanilu’s smile drop wasn’t so much so.

“Sunshine, Xenrai told me about that one,” Qanilu’s hold on Grian’s shoulders grew tighter. “You taste disgusting just seeing him.”

“I’m…” Grian knew he would be in trouble if he said that he cared about this vex. He knew that those words would turn Grian into a pile of brains on someone’s plate. “I'm just happy to see that my mistake didn’t affect him.”

“Your mistake?” Qanilu let go of Grian, but their smile wasn’t there.

“I accidentally killed him at the beginning. I’m now trying to ensure he doesn’t die too soon.” Xelqua half lied. Qanilu giggled, returning that fake smile.

“Ah, right, of course you would,” They almost sang-sung it. “You made me worried for a moment. Well, go back, fix your little mistakes,” Qanilu waved Grian off, back in the desert.

And as much as Grian wanted to believe that the other watcher believed him, the fact that Qanilu avoided his name was worrying.

Chapter Text

The desert was empty and it was ruined, yet it still felt like home. Burning sun, dry air, sand stuck between feathers - all that was already familiar and a part of what made Grian feel alive.

The last thing he needed to feel whole was his vex.

Flying through the sky, Grian noticed more and more purple eyes in the corner of his eyes. He spotted Cleo’s lifeless body. He spotted Skizz still holding his sword in the black metallic arms - an aftermath of his second death, prosthetics Etho made for missing limbs.

Grian didn’t hesitate to dive in and claw a heart out of the seraph. Through the stomach, under the rib cage and out. Fast, efficient, just like Scar had taught him. Just to test something, he convinced himself, but in actuality it was a grudge.

As Skizz’s body stopped spilling blood, as the organ in Grian’s hand stopped beating, the avian noticed more purple eyes in the sky. They were coming to watch the finale, weren’t they? Fine, let them watch. They had let Grian to participate now, he would play by all the rules.

Grian entered the Crastle beaming with joy and practically skipping over to Scar with the heart. He ignored how Bdubs shrunk away to Impulse, he ignored how Tango’s fire brightened up before dimming again. He ignored all that because Grian had his focus on Scar. On his vex, the man that caused him to feel these small, pathetic, mortal, disgusting things and love it all.

“Here!” Grian extended Skizz’s heart. “I thought you might be hungry!”

For a moment Scar’s eyes widened and his hand twitched, but he didn’t reach out. Green eyes fell onto Impulse, almost guilty and apologetic.

Grian couldn’t understand why. What did he do wrong? Weren’t avians supposed to bring gifts? Didn’t vexes love hearts? Needed meat? Scar looked totally satisfied last time he grabbed Skizz’s heart.

What was different this time?

The Crastle members. That’s what was different.

Scar pulled Grian a bit closer, lowering the avian’s hand with the organ, ignoring the warm blood and smell.

“Songbird, not now,” Scar’s voice was soft but urgent. He looked tense, he looked like he avoided looking too long on anyone here. Scar was hungry, he just didn’t want to scare off his friends who didn’t see him as a cannibalistic monster yet.

Everyone was silent. Like Grian had broken something with his appearance. Maybe he did. He shouldn’t be here after all.

The avian didn’t notice how his wings had lowered, how his gaze briefly fell down to the floor and then back up at Scar. Those motions came naturally even if Xelqua had never made them in the void.

Grian didn’t do them because he felt afraid. He didn’t look at Scar expecting he would need to plead for his safety and apologise. He was looking at Scar with genuine guilt, shame, confusion and desire to hear “I’m not mad at you”.

But instead Scar just pulled Grian closer, almost like hugging, but not quite. Shielding the little bird from the glare, blazeborn, and imp hybrids.

“There is no point,” Scar spoke, unnaturally seriously to him. Not making a deal, just cold concentration. This wasn’t directed to the avian, more to others, as if the vex was picking up the conversation Grian so rudely interrupted.

“We are all bloodthirsty now. Ren and Etho are predators, just like me. They will start hunting because it’s in their nature.” Grian felt how Scar squeezed his hand. The vex kept talking and yet kept his green eyes drilled into the floor, eyebrows furrowed, like those words were painful to him. He tasted like caramel.

“We have no choice, Bdubs. We would be forced to kill them,” Scar whispered. He felt guilty saying it, Grian could see it.

And all Grian could do was slide closer, wrapping his wing around the vex, cradling for moral support.

“But they’re our friends, Scar! This isn’t just a fun game anymore! We’re killing them!” Only now did Grian notice that Bdubs’s eyes were bloodshot and wet. His eyes were similar to Scott’s, he was crying. “I don’t want to kill Etho…” The glare whispered, fidgeting with his pocket watch. Oh void, what did Xelqua do… He didn’t like this. The taste was good, sure, but this felt wrong.

So so wrong.

“You wouldn’t need to kill him, Bdubs,” Impulse took the golden clock, setting it aside, trying to ground Bdubs in the present. Tango quickly joined in the group, coddling the glare with flickering fire and nervous laughter.

Grian felt how Scar stepped out of G’s wing, walking over to the group. Grian saw how the vex pocketed the watch, like it was absolutely normal.

However before Scar could join into the group hug or return the golden watch to the glare, Grian saw more of the purple eyes appear. Someone else had died. With the amount of eyes that showed up, Grian was sure that more than one person had died, or, better said, left the game.

So, Grian dropped the heart, grabbed Scar by his hand and dragged the vex outside, out of the earshot, out of everyone’s sight.

”Scar, Scar, Scar,” The avian was almost chirping, squawking and panicking. All four of his eyes were open and he was trying to find out who had died. Maybe it’s Ren and Etho! Maybe that will make others feel better, easier.

”Songbird, what’s wrong?” Scar looked panicked now, confused.

But instead of seeing the dead body of the fox or a dog, Xelqua saw Scott’s and Joel’s bodies dug in the sand. In the sand, in the desert, in their desert…

Grian didn’t notice when he started to cry. He only realised that when he felt Scar’s warm arm around his body, the vex was whispering something so softly and quietly that it was incoherent, occasionally planting tiny kisses into the golden hair adorned with flowers.

“Hey, it’s fine, we’re fine, you’re fine, you didn’t do anything wrong,” Scar kept his voice warm. “They weren’t upset at you, I swear, whatever you tasted was not caused by you.”

”Scott and Joel had died. Others…” Grian buried his head into Scar’s chest. “My family is watching.”

“You mean other watchers?” Scar slightly pulled away, looking around. He tasted like chocolate. Why was he angry? Was he angry at Grian?

“Yes… Sorry. I think they want the game to end.”

“Then we give them the end. No one is actually hurt, right, songbird?” Scar turned his attention back to the avian. Grian didn’t even think about checking if his whole worldbuild had worked and everyone actually is safe back at their homes.

Grian sat down on the stone, the Crastle was in the view, only Tango’s fiery hair was seen from afar.

The avian opened his wing, inviting Scar to sit down next to him. The vex didn’t hesitate, carefully lowering himself and setting his cane by his side.

Grian had opened the portal, pulling out the document about each player, to find their homes, their return locations. And then the scary part began. To open portals, windows, eyes to peek onto the desist.

Jimmy was the first one they checked on. The canary was giving some speech, damage control over their disappearance, all serious and confident. His wings were fine, his arms weren’t covered in scars from the explosion.

Scar teased about how Jimmy was the last person he expected to be giving such serious speeches and to lie about what had happened, but clearly Scar was happy to see that Jimmy was fine.

Grian noticed how Scar rubbed his right leg, as if considering the fact that he would be fine if he just dies one more time. The death was an escape, escape from every permanent damage he had received over the past few months here.

It was a small subconscious gesture, but it made Grian’s heart swell and hurt.

Since they were already spying on Empires, Grian quickly moved the view to Joel, who was embracing some pink haired allay hybrid, and… That felt too personal.

Scar immediately looked away, Grian in panic waved his hands to switch the focus in the portal yet again.

Scott was the next person they checked on. And Scott was the one who died the most recently. It was shown. He still had the sand on his body, wasn’t in any royal attire, and was touching his chest repeatedly, as if checking that he was real, that the wound that killed him was no longer there.

“Can we check on Cleo?” Scar moved a bit closer, his voice just a whisper.

Grian nodded, looking at the file of the zombie. It was the same as when Xenrai and Qanilu gave it to Xelqua. This Hermitcraft, Scar was talking about, was nowhere to be found on their file.

S.H. - a short abbreviation for a super hostile world. Next to it in careful cursive was written ‘legendary’. Probably from one of the archivist watchers, their personal opinion on the world. And bluntly speaking, Xelqua couldn’t help but agree.

The Super Hostile world did sound legendary.

Grian opened a new window, finding the zombie and showing it to Scar. The vex frowned, looking back and forth between Grian and the portal until eventually spoke.

“This is not Hermitcraft,” He sounded almost afraid. “It doesn’t look like… home.”

“It is their home,” Grian explained, showing Cleo’s file to Scar.

“I’m not going to return to Hermitcraft, am I? None of us will,” Scar wasn’t questioning. It was a statement that they both knew was true.

“You’re listed in Scarland. That’s where you will return,” Grian spoke, while checking on Skizz in World Market - a nickname watchers used for that world with just how many different tastes could be found there.

Scar just nodded, committing this information to the memory. His eyes slightly widened as he saw Skizz’s world or rather someone in there.

Grian noticed that as well. A voidwalker, the voidwalker Hermits were talking about the entire time.

“Oh! Zoom Zoom is looking for us. I guess we won’t get lost for long,” Scar’s voice got more cheerful as he brightly smiled. For some reason Grian felt bitter.

Not just from the flavour in his mouth from Scar’s happiness, no. It was something different. Grian didn’t like the thought that Scar looked happy about the idea of returning home. He didn’t want Scar to return home. He didn’t want Scar to think about any other place besides the desert and the Sandcastle as home.

Because it would mean that Grian was the only one who wished they could stay in the desert together forever.

Scar and Grian returned to the Crastle late in the night. There were two fresh graves: for Cleo and for Skizz.

The war was unavoidable, and apparently while they were having a secret moment to ensure Grian wasn’t an incompetent fool and his rules were working, the Crastle prepared a plan.

Waiting for the fight to come to them was a death sentence. With Etho’s technical knowledge, with Martyn’s enhanced senses, they won’t be able to defend the Crastle. They needed to attack first and Bdubs wasn’t coming. He was a herbivore, no one wanted him to step over himself.

So that’s what happened. Grian, Scar, Tango, and Impulse snuck in. Tango and Impulse started the fight, the distraction, while Grian and Scar snuck onto the walls of Dogwarts base to aid with bow and arrows.

Impulse kept his word and didn’t let Bdubs kill Etho, killing the fox himself. Martyn took revenge, putting his sword through Impulse and then quickly into Tango.

Two more permanent deaths, two more players out of the game, more purple eyes all around them.

Grian and Scar stayed hidden. With Scar’s injuries he couldn’t go fight in close combat. And Grian stayed by his side in case their location gets compromised and they need to flee: Grian’s wings would be able to carry them both out.

This was the first time Grian was using a bow, and Scar was teaching him. It was the most weird and chaotic lesson, but also very practical.

Scar would draw a bow, aim, shoot the glass arrows, all while explaining in hushed voice what he was doing. And Grian would copy it.

Eventually Grian managed to put an arrow through BigB’s neck.

“Good shot, songbird,” Scar said unconsciously, still focused on the task at hand. The vex got timing when Ren rushed over to try to pull the arrow out so the creaking hybrid would regenerate faster.

The Red King has fallen, ironically enough for the exact reason Xelqua put the dog hybrid in: he was too loyal, too caring. If he didn’t rush to BigB, if he didn’t stand in one place long enough for Scar to draw the bow and aim, he might’ve still been alive. More purple eyes had appeared.

Maryn had noticed them. He probably had spotted them a long time ago because of their whispering, because he had sneaked up on the duo without any trouble. The sword had pierced Grian’s wing, immediately ruining any plan to flee they had.

The pain was unbearable. What was even worse is that Grian actually felt fear. Wings, his wings were struck. His precious wings, a thing that he associated with freedom, a thing that he knew would be taken from him as a punishment by watchers if he misbehaved.

Grian had a full on panic attack of being conditioned to believe that any pain in his wings means he’s being punished.

“Afraid?” Martyn twisted the sword, the blood was dripping down on the stone walls and the sound of twisting bone was disgusting.

Grian didn’t even realise when he yelled out of pain or when Martyn hissed from being stabbed with the glass. Scar had pulled Grian closer and at the same time carefully.

They still were nested on the walls of Dogwarts, they needed to be careful with the balance.

Pulling out glass tipped arrows was painful. Scar and Grian made those arrows to snap at any attempt to be pulled out. The glass shards would stay in the body, ruining or slowing down any process of healing.

Seeing Martyn not caring about glass in his body was nerve wracking. To Grian at least.

“You’re holding a monster,” Martyn swung his axe, aiming at Grian. Scar pulled his cane in the way, the mobility aid snapping in half but at least deterring the trajectory of the blade.

“What’s up with everyone calling each other monsters?” Scar frowned, pushing Martyn’s axe off the wall. “We all are! Look at yourself! Trying to kill an innocent birdie!”

Martyn paused, looking down the wall where his axe had landed.

“Innocent bird? That’s the man who trapped us, Scar!” Martyn pulled out a sword, pointing it at Grian. “If we kill him, we can find a way out. He was the cause of all our fights!”

Scar was half listening. The vex, just like Grian, was shocked to hear Martyn accuse Grian of… well, being Grian, Xelqua, The Game Master.

“Scar, he has been on your shoulder, whispering monstrous things and turning you against everyone! Setting the tree on fire, killing Skizz, killing us,” Martyn wasn’t scared. He was angry, he tasted like chocolate, rich and powerful, but he was smiling. “He used you!”

And for a moment, Grian felt Scar freeze. He was considering that possibility, wasn’t he? The bitter truth was that Martyn was right.

Grian tugged along with Scar to use him. To turn his vex instincts into a weapon. Grian used friendship as a tool of manipulation.

“Past tense,” Scar replied, drawing the bow for the last time and shooting Martyn. The shot was hasty, not deadly.

But it was enough to throw Martyn off balance and fall off the wall. The sound of cracking bones was grotesque enough to imagine what happened to his body.

More purple eyes had appeared.

“How many left?” Scar asked, breathing heavily and holding Grian tightly, holding his bleeding wing tightly. However his eyes were shut, avoiding to look at the blood, at the food.

Grian quickly looked around the Dogwarts. Impulse’s and BigB’s body weren’t there. Bdubs was left at the Crastle.

“Besides us, three more.”

“Then we need to kill three more,” Scar ripped a part of his poncho, wrapping it around Grian’s wing to stop the bleeding. Yes, they couldn’t fly anymore, but it didn’t mean that they should let Grian bleed out.

“We need to hide and let them kill each other. I can’t fly, you can’t walk. We can’t get into a new fight right now,” Grian stood up, helping Scar up and carefully down from the wall.

“Let’s get Bdubs and Impulse. Let’s get rid of BigB first,” Scar was relying on Grian even more now. The watcher had a thought to just use his magic, to fix Scar’s broken leg and his wing, but that felt wrong. Like cheating in his own game.

Back at the Crastle, the pair got welcomed by Bdubs. The glare was panicked, afraid, concerned, all the different emotions that tasted good to Grian. And the watcher was in pain, hungry. He couldn’t help but eat those emotions.

Yes, Bdubs will grow numb, yes it would be weird to him, but Grian was too hungry.

“Oh, by the way,” Scar looked through his pockets, pulling out the clock. “I have a present,” The vex teased. He didn’t mean it, it was Bdub’s pocket watch to begin with, but the glare looked too excited about it.

All the fear and concern had left him, or rather Grian had eaten it, so the short herbivore was more reckless now.

“Oh, Scar, thank you! I had lost mine! I owe you!” Bdubs hugged Scar, falling all of them off the grass. After all, Scar had no stability to begin with and Grian was still in pain.

But Grian noticed something. Scar’s eyes shined with cyan light, his smile turned sharper.

“You owe me? Anything?” The vex hugged Bdubs back. Not to hug, but to keep the glare from seeing his eyes.

“Yep! Whatever you want!” And just like that, Grian saw how Scar trapped another soul into a one sided deal.

“Kill Impulse,” Scar whispered without any hesitation. No remorse, no shame, no guilt. He was getting desperate and hungry, most likely.

Bdubs tried to argue. He looked concerned, but Grian ate any doubtful emotion away. Not that Bdubs would’ve been able to resist Scar’s deal anyway.

So when Impulse did get out of the Crastle and Bdubs started hunting the imp while Scar and Grian just sat in the grass, making a new cane for the vex, Xelqua felt conflicted.

Clearly Impulse cared about Bdubs. A lot. And Bdubs had turned on him. Conditionally, of course, not on his own will but due to the circumstances, but Impulse didn’t know that.

To Impulse Bdubs just had betrayed him.

More purple eyes appeared. At this point Grian no longer could see blue sky, just purple glow.

The glare had returned all energetic and brightly smiling, excited about the feeling of killing someone. A weird sight, but Scar and Grian also were excited over Skizz’s death.

“Let’s kill somebody else!” Bdubs held his bow with a concerning amount of joy. “Who’s left? Who can we kill!?”

“BigB,” Scar didn’t hesitate. He was smiling like this was normal. Maybe Bdubs was always a bouncy ball of joy, but the coldness with which the vex spoke was abnormally mesmerising to Grian.

While trying to find BigB in this big world, Grian could not stop thinking about the possibility that Bdubs will turn on them because of this bloodthirst. In general the thought of Scar trusting Bdubs so easily after he had betrayed his teammate was concerning.

But it was two of them against the world. Grian and Scar would be safe, together.

Grian hated how blind he was. Scar was growing quieter until there were just three of them left. Bdubs, rightfully, started to panic, because the desert bandits were together all those months.

But Scar was silent. Scar didn’t draw his bow at Bdubs or tried to lie with pretty words. Scar was abnormally quiet.

He stepped over to Grian. That was it. Grian was sure that was it, two of them against Bdubs and then they could win this together.

But instead Grian felt sharp teeth sunk in his neck, deep and painful. Scar had bit him. Scar had ate him.

Grian felt the flesh being torn out, ripped apart tendons. And that was only the first bite.

The scream came out involuntary, the avian tried to step away, but Scar held him tight. Almost like a hug. A terrible, terrible hug.

“Shhh…” The vex whispered softly, after swallowing, what Grian knew was his own flesh and blood. Scar’s head rested against Grian’s shoulder for a moment.

For a moment Grian had a hope that this was just a show, just a trick, just a performance to disarm Bdubs.

It wasn’t.

Another bite, this time Scar punctured the trachea. Blood was spilling into Grian’s throat, causing a coughing fit on top of screaming.

His blood tasted gross. How could Scar eat something like this and smile? But again, Grian ate emotions. He wasn’t the one to shame.

Scar’s hands were warm, cradling Grian close to himself, supporting the avian’s head so he wouldn’t fall. It was such a sweet hug if not for the blood pooling in Grian’s mouth and dripping on Scar’s shoulder.

The next bite was closer to the shoulder and this time it ripped apart arteries. The world was getting darker, the noises were getting muffled. Even pain got numb, most likely due to overstimulation of the nerve system.

Bdubs looked horrified, frozen in place, clearly unable to run. Fear. Grian could see that the glare was afraid.

Scar looked terrifyingly gorgeous, with such a sharp smile that probably only carnivores could achieve. He didn’t feel guilty? Grian couldn’t taste any caramel in the air.

To be fair, Grian couldn’t taste anything, only warm metallic flavour from his own blood.

Not even that.

Everything went black, again.

Grian had died. Fast, not really painful, except for emotional pain.

How did Scar even manage to do it? Didn’t they have a deal for Scar to spare Grian?

Oh…

Now, in this total silence, Xelqua realised what he had phrased wrong in that deal.

He asked Scar to spare him. Spare him from what Scar was threatening him with. A slow torture. Yes, Scar spoke about eating Grian, but he threatened to keep the watcher alive and disfigure him.

Technically, this was sparing him. Compared to what Scar was promising.

Xelqua had promised to himself to never make deals with vexes again. They’ll twist your words to benefit them and ruin you.

When Grian got back to live, Scar was sitting on the ground next to him, covered in blood and tasting like caramel.

Bdubs was dead. There were bite marks and missing parts. Void, Scar was really starving if he ate both of them.

But that didn’t matter. Scar had betrayed him. Grian felt hurt. Grian felt angry. Grian felt like crying.

The avian lunged at Scar, digging his talons into the flesh, making the vex bleed.

“Traitor!” Grian yelled through tears. His vision was blurry, he couldn’t see Scar’s face, but he felt that the vex didn’t resist. Why didn't he resist? “I’ll kill you! You’re a traitor, Scar!”

“You can kill me,” Scar put his hands on Grian’s face, wiping his tears away. Gently and carefully, like the avian was something precious. Xelqua could feel the sticky and still warm blood spread on his face, but he didn’t care. “For everything you did for me, for keeping me alive this long, you may slay me and take the enchanter.”

Grian squeezed Scar’s shoulder, digging the talons that weren’t his but now felt like they had always been on his body deeper into Scar’s flesh.

Why was he so calm? Why was he so accepting!?

Grian froze.

“No. I’m not going to kill you,” The watcher smirked, sharp and wild. “Of course you’d want to die. You’ll return back to your friends. No… Oh no. I’ll keep you here. You will be stuck here, with me, forever,” Xelqua leaned closer. He could taste that Scar got nervous at this thought. There. There it was.

Xelqua was a watcher. He wasn’t a violent creature. Watchers weren’t physical killers. They tortured people mentally, emotionally, traumatising them.

Xelqua would do that to Scar.

“It’s… it’s okay,” Scar whispered, pushing Grian’s hair away from his eyes. “It’s fine. If you stay with me, it would be fine,” the vex didn’t taste fine. So why was he lying? Was he lying? Grian couldn’t understand it.

Grian couldn’t understand anything anymore. The watcher broke down crying, falling into Scar’s shoulder. He was overwhelmed, he never felt so much himself.

“It’s fine, songbird. You have all the right to feel angry, I…” Scar took a deep breath. “I messed up with that. You can hate me.”

“I don’t hate you!” Grian whined through sobs, chirps and squawks. “I can’t! I literally can’t!”

Scar’s chest rumbled with a quiet laughter, soft and warm, while he kept Grian in his embrace. Grian wanted to stay like this forever.

But his emotions gradually grew weaker, until they were gone.

“This is pathetic,” Xelqua recognised the voice. He looked up, to the sound, and there, on the edge of the pond, with their legs in the water, sat Xenrai. “You taste disgustingly good. What do you think you’re doing? Finish this.”

Grian looked at Scar. But the vex didn’t seem to react to another watcher. He couldn’t see them. He couldn’t hear them. They hid in the fourth plane of existence.

“Oh, Xenrai, be kind to him. He’s shaken up after dying, right?” Qanilu leaned closer, they were completely in the pond, swimming like they weren’t talking about death and murder. “After all, our sunshine wouldn’t care about some mortal, would he?”

Grian froze. So he didn’t misheard it last time. Qanilu was using a nickname for him. Qanilu was avoiding using Xelqua’s name. Grian could become food right now.

“It doesn’t matter. Their Grace is waiting for you to finish this,” Xenrai flapped their wings, standing up to look at Grian and Scar from above.

Grian didn’t notice how his hands grew tighter around Scar’s shoulders, how he had frozen at his ‘siblings’ being around.

But Scar did.

“Hey, are you okay, songbird? You look like you saw a ghost,” Scar carefully tilted Grian’s head back to himself.

“They,” Grian paused himself. “My family wants us to fight.”

“It’s fine. Just kill me,” Scar was smiling too warmly for this.

“No, no. That… that wouldn’t be fair,” Grian sat up, moving away from Scar.

“So… let’s make it fair. If you want,” Scar snickered, standing up and leaning on the cane.

And just like that, Grian and Scar were back in the desert, next to Pizza’s grave, next to their destroyed Sandcastle, on their Monopoly Mountain, at their home.

Xelqua used his magic to fix Scar’s leg. If they want to fight fairly, Scar needs to be able to stand on his own.

They took away anything that could count as armour or a weapon.

And the fight had begun. But before Grian could realise, Scar wasn’t hitting him back. Scar wasn’t fighting him.

“Why you’re not fighting back!?” Grian yelled, out of frustration his punches grew stronger.

“I am,” Scar laughed, ignoring Grian’s hands on his neck. He wasn’t. Grian could feel and see that he wasn’t fighting back.

“You’re not!” Grian hit harder. Scar stumbled back and fell, hitting his back on the Pizza’s coffin. Grian could hear the sound of broken bones, most likely spine, because Scar didn’t stand up.

The avian rushed to his side, trying to figure out what had happened.

“Why didn't you fight back!? This wasn’t fair! We agreed to a fair fight!” Grian was crying again. He didn’t like this feeling. He didn’t like the tears on his face.

“Oh, but I couldn’t kill you, songbird,” Scar scoffed. His voice was tired, quiet, not lively and warm at all. “After all, you don’t know if you have a file… or where your home is. I couldn’t risk… to actually…” Scar didn’t finish the sentence.

His green eyes grew foggy and empty. His lovely green eyes were dead. Grian didn’t know why he scooped Scar into a hug, apologising over and over again. Scar couldn’t feel it anymore, Scar couldn’t hear him anymore, Scar wasn’t alive anymore.

Scar wasn’t here anymore.

Maybe that was also why Scar was petting Pizza when it had died. Grian didn’t like what he was feeling.

But he didn’t like it even more that his emotions were taken away, eaten again.

“Congratulations, Xelqua!” Qanilu cheered, same fake sweetness, practiced, not warm like Scar’s was. “You won!” The watcher clapped.

Xenrai clapped as well, but they looked… disappointed. Perhaps because they could feel that Grian cared.

“C’mon, Their Grace wants to see you personally! Ah, what an honour!” Qanilu practically dragged Grian back into the void, ignoring how Scar’s body had fallen into the sand. Grian didn’t like it. He wanted to make a grave for Scar. He wanted to honour his friend.

But he couldn’t. He was pulled back into the void, in a place that Xelqua knew as home for all his life and yet it no longer felt like this.

Xelqua had made this game with one purpose only: to get praised. And now, alone, after months of living surrounded by people who love and care about you, Xelqua realised something very painful.

He didn’t want to get praised. He wanted to feel appreciated and cared for. Xelqua wanted to feel loved without even knowing what love was supposed to be.

But now the person who loved Xelqua whole, knowing what he is, was no longer with him. Scar was free. Happy, most likely. And Xelqua was stuck in the void, wishing to return home, to the desert, to potted poppies and lilacs, to collect the blooms and put them in his hair, to dry them out and keep forever close in his heart.