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In hindsight, maybe following the strange noise might not have been the best idea. Going first probably was an even worse one.
Yet, despite the logical side of his mind screaming at him to turn around, his feet seemed to move at their own accord, guiding him towards what would be his doom.
Scott could hear the careful footsteps of Joel and Martyn behind him, the former a little less so than the latter. He knew Joel was sick of the whole tirade that they had been thrown into, yet there was nothing the three of them could do about it. They just had to play the game.
He steeled himself before stepping around the corner. Immediately, something was shooting at him, and he put up his arms in front of his face out of reflex. A flash of silver reflecting off the pale and ghostly light the torches on the walls provided, and Scott found himself on the ground.
It burned.
The more he tried to twist out of the net, the more the strands of iron entangled him, and the more his skin was subjected to the awful, terrible agony of flame. It was iron- the net was made out of iron.
That wasn’t good in the slightest.
Being an elf, his skin was quite sensitive. But that didn’t compare to when he was in contact with iron. It was a pain that blinded him, a pain that distorted his senses and thoughts. The only thing he could focus on was the feeling of his skin being scorched by his mortal weakness.
He knew he was screaming, but there was nothing he could do to calm the wretched noise. It was all way too much. The net, the iron- hands. Hands were on him, trying to detach the net, to get him out- but that, too, filled him with incomprehensible agony.
God, it hurt so bad.
“-ott! Scott, stop moving!”
Distantly, as if covered by a pillow, those words echoed in his ears. Yet they were vain, their meanings slipping through Scott’s fingers like water.
Strong hands were holding him down, and he writhed against them.
“Bloody Hell, stop blummin’ moving!” someone was shouting- the person holding him still.
“It’s not coming off!” a very, very familiar voice was yelling. A voice Scott loved so. Feverish hands belonging to Martyn were tearing at the net, working at untangling it from Scott’s form, but it was for naught. Scott could tell by the sheer despair dripping from Martyn’s next words. “I- I’m sorry- Scott-”
The net was weighted, causing the strands imbued with a material deadly to Scott to wrap around him in intricately woven lines, much like the web of a spider. On and on it wrapped, pain following in a shroud of darkness in its wake.
There was no hope of untangling the mess of ropes.
No hope of saving Scott from his fate.
Unless…
He managed to squint an eye open, taking in the blurry image of two faces peering over him.
“Get- knife-” Scott managed through gritted teeth, barely keeping down a scream.
Martyn shot right up without question, falling to his knees in his haste to get back to Scott.
Scott took the knife in one hand, stared at it for a few moments until the sheer agony won out.
He plunged the blade of the silver dagger into his heart up to the hilt, relishing for a split second in the blood that quickly seeped out of the injury. He could barely feel the pain of the stab, for the intense burning in his skin was much too prominent. From what he could see through his quickly dimming vision, Martyn looked mortified. He just… sat there, staring blankly at Scott. His eyes slowly traveled down to the knife buried in his chest, then to his face.
Joel, on the other hand, had released him, and stood up. He stared down at Scott as well, an unreadable look on his face.
With Scott’s fading consciousness, he managed one last ghost of a smile, his vision fading to black. Yet, with the loss of the image of the love of his life, came the sweet relief of numbness. The pain faded away in tandem as his life, and he was left laying there. A hollow shell tangled in the iron plated net that drove him to suicide, and Martyn looking at him with those eyes so full of grief that if he could see them he would have reached up and taken the man in his arms.
Scott found himself dead before he had the chance to think anything more.
Gradually, inexplicably, he awoke to no pain. No burning agony, no strings of iron delicately wrapped around his body, no solid body of fire embracing him in the horrible pain of death. It was… quite nice, actually. Serene.
That still did nothing to absolve the first question that had popped into Scott’s brain when he woke up- how was he still alive? He had stabbed himself, had sunk that blade into his heart. He had felt himself die.
Was he in heaven? Or perhaps hell? Was he just dead?
“...Scott?” a hesitant, awfully hopeful voice whispered. Scott slowly turned his head towards the sound of the name, feeling greatly fatigued from his respawn (?).
Martyn sat there, back against a wall, looking utterly exhausted. Dark circles were heavy and prominent beneath his eyes, his face pale, eyes stressed.
Scott blinked, taking in the sight of his boyfriend.
“Hi,” he said, surprised at how hoarse his voice sounded.
“Hi?” Martyn asked, and anger was suddenly present in his voice. “That’s what you have to say to me? Hi?”
“Leave the poor guy alone, he just woke up,” Joel voiced from out of Scott’s eyeshot, voice tinged with humor. “Hell of a death, by the way.”
Scott wasn’t sure whether to take that as a compliment or not. He opted to merely ignore the man, instead turning his full attention towards Martyn.
“What did you want me to do?” He sat up now, limbs aching in protest, yet he persisted, stopping only when he was fully upright with his palm resting against the rough concrete for support. “Not get caught in the net? I was going to die, anyway. Might as well stop the pain while I’m at it.”
“I-”
“Besides, I respawned. What’s the problem?”
“Wh- what’s the problem? You just killed yourself! That’s the problem, you asshole.”
Scott felt himself physically jolt back, shocked by the sudden outburst. “I- That’s not fair! What did you want me to do?”
“I- I dunno- but that wasn’t the right answer!”
“I respawned! No harm no foul!”
“You didn’t know you were going to respawn! That’s the problem. None of us have died yet. You didn’t know if permadeath was on, you didn’t know if you would be gone forever!”
Scott stopped himself before he could muster an angry retort in response. There were… tears in Martyn’s eyes. They reflected against the pale light cast by the surrounding torches, and Scott closed his mouth, a deep well of guilt opening inside of him.
“I’m sorry,” he muttered, looking away. “It just- it hurt so bad. I- I couldn’t stand it anymore.”
Martyn didn’t respond, sadness merely flooding into the anger. Scott almost wanted Martyn to get mad again, if only to see that look of absolute distraught gone from his gaze.
“Well, now we know we can respawn,” Joel said, and Scott turned to look at him. He looked tired as well, and despite the best he tried to hide it, Scott could tell worry lay underneath the mask of indifference.
Scott shrugged. “Yeah, we don’t have to be as careful anymore.”
Martyn scoffed. “Careful? That’s what you call being careful?”
“Sure, I’m still here, aren’t I?”
“I’m seriously going to kill you.”
“At least we know I’ll come back if you do that.”
“I hate you.”
“Love you too.”
Then Martyn was pulling him in for a hug. Scott sat there, a little surprised by the gesture. He returned it tightly, wrapping his arms around his boyfriend.
“I love you, but please just be a little bit more careful with your life? Even if we do respawn now, I don’t want to see you in pain,” Martyn murmured, head tucked into Scott’s shoulder.
“Okay,” Scott agreed, closing his eyes to just absorb the feeling of security surrounding him.
The two stayed like that for who knew how long, enjoying each other’s warmth.
Joel sat in the corner, feeling like a lonely little bitch