Work Text:
The sound of one thousand players all trying to kill only two players was a lot, to put it simply. Battle cries, screams when a sword got embedded in their arm or something, a jumble of callouts that landed on deaf ears. The sound was familiar, if not louder than normal, but it helped Wemmbu get into a good mindspace. Helped him forget it was a thousand trying to kill him, unlike the usual twenty.
Numbers had dwindled faster than he thought, as hundreds of loot piles were already on the floor. Hours had gone by, that much was obvious by the sun dipping lower and the air getting colder.
It felt good to have someone have his back, not have to worry about killing a thousand alone. The other person being FlameFrags was admittedly odd, but definitely something he could get used to.
“BEHIND YOU,” Wemmbu barks out, though he’s already macing the lawmen behind Flame. Flame hadn't bothered turning anyway, already used to Wemmbu calling out just to deal with them himself. More as a warning that he’s macing around him than anything. “Stay safe.” Wemmbu chides while flying off.
-
The rhythm stays for a while, someone yelling a callout that somehow gets heard over the chaos, then a rush to deal with whoever got too close. Every so often, one of them will get pushed too far, have too many on them and get overwhelmed, which then requires the other to drop everything to assure they live.
“Wemmbu?” Flame called. He didn’t even want to count the number of players that suddenly decided chasing around someone constantly in the air was pointless, as all of them were now attacking him and he seriously needed to focus on living instead of counting the many players surrounding him.
Something drops from the sky, then a sickening thud is heard from somewhere in the crowd. Wemmbu flies back up due to his windburst, then comes crashing back down. Gambit does the job at taking people out in chunks, whether he hits someone or blows them far away enough that they aren't a problem, he’s quick at the job. “I got you, is that more manageable?” He pauses momentarily, landing besides Flame to help take on some people behind him.
“Should be, thanks. How many do you think are left?” Flame swings, someone screams, and Wemmbu’s voice is drowned out. He doesn’t bother repeating himself, opting to fly away to deal with more stragglers instead.
-
The fight only lasted an hour more before everyone was officially dead. One thousand Law men. Two players against them, and they crumbled within hours. Wemmbu felt the strain on his body. He took a panting breath, then felt a slight tremble in one of his legs. He tried to walk it off, head towards Flame and gloat about their glory, though Flame was quicker to come up to his side.
“Bro, are you like, good?” Flame pokes his shoulder, but Wemmbu doesn’t bother trying to flick him off. Everything hurts, and he could tell his legs were about ready to give out.
He shakes his head after a moment of hesitation, then again, this time more sure. “I think I did too much. Over-used my wings, which always makes my back sore, plus makes me tired.” He shuffles, trying to find a position he can stand comfortably.
Flame hums, then stands still for a moment. Him and Wemmbu enter an awkward quiet, neither sure of what to say.
Wemmbu feels his legs shake more beneath his own weight, feels the way his wings droop increasingly lower until everything crumbles. His legs are no longer enough to hold himself up, and he falls. His eyes screw shut as he prepares to fall face first into the cold, armor littered ground. It doesn’t happen, and instead, he gets hoisted up by none other than his rival.
“Dude, you could’ve like, told me instead of just falling. I would’ve helped you.” Flame shuffles them around until Wemmbu’s leaning against his side and at no risk of falling again. “Should we sit?”
The sound is barely there, but Wemmbu hums. Slowly, they make their way to the ground. Flame’s careful as he shuffles their position around until Wemmbu is comfortable against his side, and his wings are settled behind him.
Wemmbu sighs. “Sorry, I think my body’s like, giving up on me a little here.” He mumbles after a tense moment of silence.
“Yeah, a little. Sure bro.” Flame teases, though it falls flat. Something else lines his words, but Wemmbu doesn’t have time to dissect his rival at the moment.
Instead, he has to worry about making sure he can make it home, alone, with no wings to use and legs that are still shaking despite holding none of his weight. With a groan, he pulls his communicator from a bundle on his right hip, thankfully not the one squished against Flame’s body.
The Goats
eggchan, Wemmbu
You whisper to eggchan: hey egg?
eggchan whispers to you: That’s me
Wemmbu’s halfway through typing a reply before Flame cuts him off. He clears his throat, then sighs. Wemmbu hears his mouth open once, then snaps shut. Wemmbu’s already tired of waiting, so he looks up, an eyebrow raised. Flame frowns down at him, then grumbles something under his breath.
“Can we like,” He pauses, long and oddly annoying.
“Can you like,” Wemmbu mocks, “spit it out or something?” then finishes with a quiet groan. His leg aches, wings feel like lead attached to his back. The faster Flame spits it out, the faster he can message Egg and get the hell out of here.
“Can we be allies? And not whatever this is dude? I’m kinda tired of the fighting, you seriously just drain all my supplies, and every time the law comes by I have shit gear because of you and your stupid mace. And I guess, we worked together okay, but genuinely if I have to deal with one more law fight with like half a stack of gapples I’m-”
“Sure.”
Flame freezes, mouth still open from where Wemmbu interrupted him. “Like, deadass?” He clarifies, for some reason.
“I said yeah. I don’t even know the last time I viewed us as enemies more than petty fights to prove we’re strong. We know we are, I think we’ve proved it to each other a fair amount.” Wemmbu shifts, making it more comfortable to look up at Flame rather than craning his neck. Being on the ground and not using his heels to his advantage is a little upsetting, meaning Flame is obviously taller, but the other doesn’t seem to notice or care at the moment.
The Goats
eggchan, Wemmbu
eggchan whispers to you: brother why are we ghosting me
Flame hums quietly, then watches Wemmbu type away.
You whisper to eggchan: when and if i get home,
i will need your medical expertise
You whisper to eggchan: is that how you spell that
Flame laughs from beside him, then shakes his head. “I can bring you to a portal if you don’t think you can get there. Not like I have anything to do if we’re actually done.” Flame checks one more time, though more subtly. If he’s being honest, he let their rivalry go for so long due to the fact that it gave him someone that wouldn’t leave. Offered someone that would stay, someone that knew him in and out, even though his friends never managed to do that. It was someone he knew too, someone he’s helped before, always under the excuse that it was just because he wanted someone worthy to fight. Never because he was lonely, though that was always the truth.
“Dude, did you even like, listen to me.” Wemmbu mutters. Flame purses his lips, and the demon groans. “There’s a portal close, but I genuinely can’t walk there.”
“I’ll carry you.” It’s too quick, probably makes it obvious that there's more to their alliance other than the excuse he's tired of fighting and they work well.
Wemmbu sighs, then nods. “Sure. Fine. Let me message Egg.”
-
They end up sitting for a while longer, talking a tiny bit before Flame eventually lifts Wemmbu in a princess carry. The other protests, but they’re short lived. Wemmbu’s asleep in his arms right after sending him the coords, and stays asleep the entire walk to the portal.
Flame distantly wonders if it’s trust, or just a good understanding that killing Wemmbu without a fight would be useless to prove he’s strong. Something hopes it's the former, wishes that Wemmbu can see he wants a friend more than a rival. Maybe he won’t know, won’t learn for months to come, but he hopes he can.