Work Text:
Scar sat in the sunflower field he had planted in what was once a death game, but as the lone survivor it wasn't much of a game anymore.
Surrounded by his sunflowers, nothing else was visible around him — despite this he knew the paces it took to get back to his house and the court building, how many paces it took to get to the watcher monument that once distributed tasks, how many minutes it took to arrive at everyone's empty houses that he'd visited a million times now.
Scar sat in the grass and dirt by the roots of the tall flowers that surrounded his house — he could feel the grass shift with the breeze as it grazed his knees while he carefully pruned the stalk of the sunflower in front of him.
The breeze was gentle as it blew through his hair like fingers combing through it. The only sounds to accompany him were the snip of his pruning and the breath that passed through his lungs.
Everything else was still, everything else was silent.
When Scar first won the game it had been surreal — the world went quiet as the last crack of thunder echoed its cry to announce his victory. He'd hardly heard it over the adrenaline that pumped through him at the time.
But the server only truly went silent after he had pressed that button and sealed his fate as the sole survivor and victor.
He tilted his head to look over the sunflower in front of him, clicking his tongue just for the sake of hearing another sound before continuing his pruning.
“Mmmm, you're in pretty rough shape,” he hummed quietly to the sunflower — his voice hoarse from the lack of use.
Sometimes he wished he'd never pressed that final button.
He wasn't sure how long it had been since the world went silent — he'd assumed at the time that it couldn't have been long, as the sun seemed to stay the same blue and orange colour that occurred when the dusk hadn't quite reached the rest of the sky, but now he knew how wrong he was.
It's been a long time.
Another snip echoed off a silent sky as he continued to prune the sunflower in front of him.
He spent his time now tending to these flowers that surrounded his place — they couldn't grow, and they couldn't wilt either so he had no real reason to tend to them but something about the task kept his mind at ease.
Made him feel less alone.
Leaning back to admire his work he hummed to himself quietly with satisfaction.
He stared at the sunflower in front of him, the grass below grazing the skin of his knees again as another gust raked the sky and caused the flowers around to dance in a familiar chorus of rustles he'd grown to appreciate.
Basking in the sound that so rarely came from something other than himself, he thought back again to the game as he often did nowadays — he never managed to really make friends, he'd been entirely alone through everything.
Which left him puzzled on how he can miss and long for something he's never had — someone to spend his time with and fill the void the silent world had left.
Maybe he was simply destined for this.
Fated to be alone — it would make sense; looking back he might have been able to make friends if he hadn't received the collection of tasks that were assigned to him.
Yet again, maybe he still wouldn't have.
Scars gaze drifted up to take in the petals of the sunflower in front of him — in all its bright and lovely glory, its petals turned to the half set sun to bask in the light they provided.
He found himself admiring the sunflowers once again before snapping himself out of it — he was just about to stand back up but before he could do so another rustle echoed through the field.
But no breeze to accompany the sound.
Scar whipped his head around, his knees pressed into the dirt as he stared in amazement — the petals and florets of the sunflowers were shifting in a chorus that engulfed him on all sides, turning to face away from the sun which shouldn't have even been possible.
Scar traced his gaze along the sunflowers and turned to look at where they were facing.
And like an angel, a familiar face suddenly graced his presence amongst the sunflowers — even the flowers seemed to recognize him as the new light of the server as they turned their petals to him.
There before him stood a man with deep brown eyes, light brown hair, a familiar red jumper, and brilliant wings that arched behind him as he made his way to stand before him.
Grian.
Scar could hardly believe the sight in front of him — he heard the crack of lighting that had announced Grian’s death, and if he’d somehow managed to be alive this whole time then how could Scar have won?
Except this Grian was slightly different than the one he'd seen now and again on the server, different than the one who died here; this one wore a light tan poncho with red detailing along the edges overtop his jumper — then there was the look in his eyes as he stared down at Scar that left him with no doubt that this Grian was different somehow.
Just as he took this man in, vague memories flooded his mind of a desert and an unbelievably charming stubbornness that he'd grown to love.
Of the person he'd grown to love.
Grian must have noticed the shift in his expression because his features softened and formed an all too familiar smile — filled with every mischievous act, every prank, every laugh that caused him to reel his head back, every warm moment that tugged on his heart.
“Come on, let's go home,” Grian spoke to Scar, his voice as soft and his tears as fresh as the day he killed the person he held dearest.
Grian outstretched a hand, his palm facing the sky — his face revealing every ounce of love he felt for Scar.
Not just for the Scar he once knew.
For him.
Scar stared at the teary face of the loved one who stood before him, a smile blooming across his face and crinkling his eyes as he took the outstretched hand.