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Jumper has a mantra in her head sometimes, when everything goes wrong, borne from the thrum of her shoes thudding against the ground.
(She gets up, runs, and keeps going. She loves this life of hers.)
She’s noticed it before, back when she pushed herself and pushed herself to just go farther. Anything to get where she wants. Jumper sees it reflected back in other people too—it happens in Lifesteal the most, that manic gleam of discovery, of bloodlust, of desire, as pure and simple as it is. It hums through her, wrapping warm and safe, the exhilaration of living in the server of liars and murderers.
It never bothers her teammates in Lifesteal, or at least, not in the typical way—not when she starves and wakes up shuddering and food forgotten in her hotbar, not when she spends the first week doing practically nothing functional, not when she drags herself out of bed every hour of the night, exhausted with determination burning in her chest.
(They take care of her in other ways, following her to the ends of the earth so she can be safe.)
It ends in bitterness; quiet, quiet betrayal, sometimes, too. It ends in fun; laughter and the rush of adrenaline through her body, sometimes, as well.
(You can trust me. She is not a broken record.)
But what else will Jumper be known for (how else will she live), if she does not live like this?
It’s ingrained in her bones, that she loves what she does. Jumper does not regret, because that would mean turning her back on everything she holds dear to her heart.
Jumper spends the first few days of the new season being hunted alongside Ro, fear stringing through her bones and paranoia following in her footsteps. But it isn't until Rek approaches her, grin on his face as he invites her along a new plan of his does she start to feel like herself.
Her (new) teammate presses an ender eye into her hand once, and tells her to open her settings and where to look. They spend hours plotting and hiding, giggling at chat messages, hiding the end portals. He has grid lines planned out and a bright gleam in his eye, and she sees the same thrill run through him as her.
"This is one of the coolest things I've done," she tells Rek, riding on the strum of absolute delight of a plan going well. Jumper's learning, and they've sped through every end portal in a matter of hours, and the only thing she has left to do is to kill ClownPierce.
Easy peasy.
Her clothes smell like gunpowder and fire. Jumper lives for the rush of their little project, the whisper of companionship bound in her code. They run through the nether, hands dotted with blaze powder and the glossy glass of a broken eye, and how else would she live?
(She misses the minecart trap, but it's okay. She has her win: the contentment, curled in her chest, her survival, bright and bold and ready for another fight. She's had fun.)
“Jumper, you got this,” Couri encourages in her ear, and she will make him proud. Anything to get where she wants. She’s grinning, blood humming through her body and just one more way she feels alive.
“Yeah,” she murmurs, trust sitting heavy in her chest. It traps her there, that comforting weight, and Jumper finds she doesn’t quite mind it. “I got this, oh mygosh, okay, yeah. Trust me.”
“I know; you’ll do great. I’ll be right here, reminding you of anything you need,” he says right back, voice brimming with excitement. Jumper bounces on her heels, watching as the world slowly loads in around her, and then she’s off, feet pounding against the ground.
“Don’t celebrate yet, we gotta pearl down—don’t forget to eat,” Couri reminds her, her hands shaking with the adrenaline of a successful zero-cycle, emotion bubbling up to choke her. She entered the portal room too late but Jumper can’t think about that right now—
She hits the ground hard, hearts dropping down to four as the ender pearl shatters into a thousand pieces under her. Jumper gasps, the noise swallowed as she quickly eats, head down as she runs the final distance towards the end fountain.
“Oh my gosh, ohmy gosh . Please,” she mutters, her hand scraping against bedrock, “please, please, please please—”
“You gotta wait,” Couri says, voice quiet and firm, but her mind is screaming so loud. “You gotta wait till you go through.”
The portal opens underneath her.
No, no, no, it was so unfair.
1.2 seconds off.
Jumper’s lost.
She lands back in the lobby, heart pounding in her ears and the world fuzzy around her. She’s lightheaded, and her lungs aren’t taking in enough air.
Couri is still talking, his voice a balm to her frayed nerves but she still can’t focus. It’s ingrained in her bones, that Jumper—
He places a light hand on her shoulder, and she jumps (ha), but it’s enough to center her once again, Couri’s concerned expression swimming into focus again. Jumper leans into his touch, trying to control her breaths as he rubs a thumb back and forth on her shoulder.
“Do you need a minute?” he asks, and Jumper nods, hands clutching onto her arms as she heads towards the bathroom, mind running too fast to think.
“Just give me a second,” she murmurs back.
She screams, pressing her back against the wall, her hands over her face. Jumper knows she still has a second chance in the loser’s bracket but she was so close. She wants to win, and it is just another thing she cares about, too fragile to be held in her heavy heart.
(It’s ingrained in her bones, that she loves what she does.)
She steels herself, glancing at the girl staring back at her in the mirror. She wipes her tears off from her face and brushes the dirt off from her outfit, tying her hair back with her hairbows. Jumper's faced far worse odds, been pressed into a corner more often than she'd ever liked to be, killed for hearts and nothing more; and this? She'll come out thriving too.
“You good?” Couri asks when she emerges from the bathroom, and he smiles gently when Jumper nods, matching the smile on her face.
Jumper does not regret. How could she, when she feels so alive?