Chapter Text
Grass crunched under wemmbus' boots, the frost making the usually dewy greenery cold and hard. The wind ripped through him, but he marched on anyway. His sword dragged behind him, the metal every so often digging into soft patches of dirt.
His eyes were dull, the life and playfulness drained after so many months in law prison. He hoists the law shield up, shifting his grip to make it more comfortable. His purple hair rustled softly in the wind, what was once so long and luscious now short, cut choppy. He no longer had his crown to boast upon his head, instead his only accessory came in the form of a clunky shock collar.
It weighed him down, but even the action of touching it sent waves of shock bolts through him, Making it impossible to shift it into a comfier position. His wings folded across his back, the law insignia spray painted against the black dragon leather. The only thing he had that still felt like his were his horns, still the same dark spikes, still sharp and prominently displayed, showing his status as dragon hybrid. His armour was made with his scales, the toughness nearly rivaling that of netherite. However, like his wings, the scales were spray painted law colours, visibly showing who he belonged to, who he fought for.
He hummed a song softly, though his throat was still destroyed from what they put him through in that cell. The dark,his blood splattering, his choked out gasps, his.. nevermind. Technically, his shock collar wasn't his only accessory, but the blindfold that covered his eyes didn't feel like an accessory. It was probably the only part of him he was currently happy to have, the dark purple mask shielding him from seeing lettuces face, or his friends faces as they realize what he had become.
Lawdog.
He shook off the thought, instead focusing on the feeling of home the bandana brought to him, the reminder of manes training, of his banter with flame. Before it all went wrong. He used to be confused on how they could move so normally, with the mask covering them. Now, it all seemed really simple.
He relied on his other senses, and could almost see what was infront of him in his mind perfectly. He continued marching on, even as the terrain swapped from the grass of the plains biome he was in, to the rough stone of the mesa biome. He could feel the dread inside of his stomach coiling, spreading its wings, the way he couldn't anymore. Not since they were slashed. He remembered getting them for the first time, curled up in a ball at eggs house, new to the world after the void spat him out.
By all means, he was never meant to exist. A void dragon was never in the code, never an intended being. He was never meant to grow up, his wings were never meant to unfurl, his horns never supposed to grow, his tail never meant to flick. And now that they had, these were the consequences. He longed now, for the comfort of the void again.
He smelled it then, the singed scent mixed with citrus that followed flame around. With a deep inhale, he followed that scent. He wasnt going to survive this. He didn't want to survive this. He would go in there, agitate the fire demon enough for him to strike, then put up a small amount of fight until the demon went in for a violent enough blow that wemmbu could step into it, hope that the sword carves into his chest, hope that the pain would vanish, hope that he could be reborn into the void, and stay there.
Egg would be fine, he always was.
Wemmbu followed the sound of shulkers opening and closing, the muttering that flame did when he concentrated. Once he smelt food cooking in a furnace, he put his hand out, feeling for the polished wood of a door. His hand brushed off the door, and he pushed inwards. He walked forwards until the click of his boots against the stone floor was replaced with the brush of carpet. He could still hear flame, in the room next to the one he was in, muttering softly.
'Flamee!' he tried to shout out, but his voice- his voice hadn't been used in months, since he realised that the less he talked back the less punishment he received. Since lettuces foot had last pushed into his throat, telling him to shut up or he would carve the entire wing off. He hadn't managed to get any of flames name out, his voice cracked and grated against his throat. He felt tears prick at his eyes and was thankful for the blindfold.
Still, even though all that came out was a garble of pain, he could hear flames movements stop. 'Wemmbu?' He called out 'I thought you were in prison bro' so he knew. He knew wemmbu had been in prison, suffering who knows what, and he.. hadn't cared.
He heard flames boots hit roughly against the ground, coming in his direction. The dread turned into something like doom, as the countdown to his death started. Wemmbu was, practically, a dead man walking. He knew when flame had seen him. His boots stopped walking, and a choked gasp escaped his mouth.
'Am.. am I to..' wemmbu choked out, his voice coming out slightly easier as he kept talking. 'to assume that your blindfold is.. off?'
He finished, before being overtaken with a fit of coughs.
'Yeah.. I was.. what, what happened to you bro?'
Wemmbu paid no attention to what he said, instead reminiscing. Flame had only ever felt comfortable around mane with his blindfold off, and before they had..parted ways, after the fight, flame had taken it off.
His eyes were like crystals, sparkling against the light and changing into different hues of orange and red every second. They were, quite frankly, beautiful.The fact that he knew wemmbu was there, and had chosen to come out with his blindfold off made wemmbus' heart soften, and had he not been so aware of flames presence, he might of smiled.
He could hear flame saying something in the distance. He hadn't realised, how much the blindfold helped him disassociate. Logically, he knew flame was right infront of him, but mentally he felt so far away.
'-Uh.. copying my look I see?' Flame questioned.
He knew it was meant to be a sarcastic statement, but the concern and hesitation he said it with didn't pull it off. Wemmbu briefly wondered if flame was staring at the hundreds of cuts and scabs that littered his skin, or his wings, or any injury of the thousands that spanned across his body.
Or maybe, flame didn't care, and he was just looking at the law shield and thinking wemmbu was a dick for betraying.
Wemmbu thought it was the latter.
He coughed, and then stood tall. 'I am here to prove that i-' he broke into another coughing fit, his throat burning. The words were meant to come out confident and proud, but instead seemed weak. Like wemmbu was.
He shook his head to rid the thoughts and looked back up to where he assumed flame was. '-to prove that I am the strongest player on the unstable smp, under the laws order. And,' he broke off and inhaled deeply. 'To kill you.' There was silence.
He didn't hear flame breathing, or mumbling, and he didn't smell him, and all he could see was darkness, and for a moment he pretended that he was back in the void, where he belonged. Then, a sharp pain hit the back of his head. 'Bro..' wemmbu muttered out. And then he promptly passed out.