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He was falling, fast. Faster than he’d ever been able to fly. The void’s suffocating, degrading atmosphere whipping against his bruised, bloodied, bound body. He knew it was stupid; trying to escape Them. He could never truly get away, not as long as his code was tainted with Their poison purple glow.
Head pounding, back throbbing, legs aching. All reminders of his dumb, daft, and frankly deadly ‘plan’ to steal any chance of living as his own person (if he ever was one to begin with) from Their polluted cages holding him back.
He could not go back. He would never go back. Not when this chance was right in front of him, well, right below him. Not when he was just forgetting the sounds of water constantly dripping out of broken pipes. Not when he could finally move without turning to his side and being blocked by cold, cold iron bars.
Nearing the sky’s barrier as doubt filled his mind, he knew this was his only chance to be freed from Their ever punishing grasp (even if it was only temporarily) . The only one he’d ever get. This had to work. It wasn’t allowed to fail now, not when he could practically taste the air he longed for surging through his lungs.
And so, he used any and all remaining energy, power and scraps of hope he had to break his way back into the familiar atmosphere, with the air he once breathed and life he once lived. As his mum used to tell him (If he even remembers who that is) “There’s no room for all the hearts who will not stay, no space for the ones who do not belong”.
Just like Icarus, the man who flew so high his wings scorched, Grian fell.
And he fell hard.
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The ground was hard and stiff from it having had been a few weeks since the sky’s last downpour. Yet the pungent smell of lilacs and poppies seemed to tell a stronger story of the ever-punishing struggle of survival. The bright colours seemed to shine in the moonlights glow between swaying leaves, the movement resembling a soft lullaby.
Dried blood cracked and pulled at Grian’s skin as he stirred from his unwilling slumber under the canopy of leaves and in between bushes of flowers. His eye burned beneath his eyelids as they twitched with a passing breeze, the leaves rustling louder as it swooped through them.
His back ached, well, everything ached. Somehow this wasn't the bone deep hurt that never seemed to leave. It felt different, more…real, physical. His head was pounding, Grian could hear a faint ringing in the back of his skull, and he couldn’t tell if he was hanging from a tree or buried beneath the sand.
Wait..
They didn’t have trees or leaves or floral scents. They certainly didn’t have the sound of winds howling and wings flapping.
No, They had pain, corrections, and rules so stupid he’d rather accept the hits and hunger than follow. Life had variation, actually enjoyable moments; all They would ever have was suffering, stupidity and ideas so twisted people would rather die trying to leave than stay.
Just like Grian! Who, should actually be dead right now.
HE SHOULD BE DEAD RIGHT NOW!!!
Jolting up, ignoring (as best he could ) the pain that burst through every inch of his drained self as he did, he scanned the area surrounding him in this familiarly foreign world.
Black.
Well, that’s what any human would see, but Grian’s a special case. The trees tower over him, just like the twilight blanket laid over the sun. He could see specks of the stars he once lived among, glimmering through the acacia leaves swaying above him. The foreign sounds of life, crowding all around him as they weaved their breaths and mutters inbetween his.
As his ears twitched with the sensation of an unknown sound registering in his brain, he snapped his head towards the branch he heard sway. He locked eyes with a brown sparrow that had just perched upon the grayish wood. Grian watched as the little creature stared back, it’s beady eyes seemingly looking through him. Searching in him.
Watching him.
Grian moved to stand, stretching his overused muscles as he tried. Lifting his body weight onto his bloodied legs, the left limb buckled back to the chalky dirt below. Falling down with a pained screech, he lands flat on his aching, throbbing back with a thwack.
Bones cracking as he whined, turning his face into the bed of flowers he originally landed on, burying his head into their nostalgic scent, before sneezing and groaning again.
He turned his head up towards the sky, taking in the once so familiar star system from so far away. A perspective he never dare dream to see again. Bats flew overhead, and fireflies danced in his eyes, or maybe that was from his headache..
His head throbbed as he sighed, deciding to give up on moving altogether. Grian knew he would have to move at some point, he didn’t want to starve after all; for now (at least until the sun's up), he’ll stay.
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Scar had always enjoyed nature, he pretty much lived in the woods (or was planning on it) after all. So when his best friend, Mumbo, asked to go on a late night walk after stopping by Scar’s starter base for some food, of course he (metaphorically) jumped at the chance. He definitely didn’t notice the way his voice slightly trembled as he asked Scar to walk him home, or if he did, chose to ignore it.
Scar would be grateful to do anything outside, and he would never say no to Mumbo, since the two had been friends for years. An evening walk was the perfect way to wind down for the night. He’d been busy all day, down in the mines to get some armour before his next inevitable death caused by gravity; any reason to get his legs moving again is greatly appreciated.
As he got up, making sure he’d stretched his legs beforehand, Scar limped over to the open door wafting cold air into his toasty home. The spruce planks being held open by Mumbo. He grabbed his carved cane from the coat stand placed next to where the pale man stood, and set out on a late night stroll.
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Mumbo wasn’t a very anxious person (?), always worrying and stressing about everything and everyone. It was a trait he never had, and never would have (right?). Mumbo was smart, great with building and making redstone (notoriously difficult for one of his old friends), he had no reason to stress about anything! No reason, none at all..
So obviously when he realised he ran out of food, he didn’t freak out and panic-run to the (second) first person he thought of! No, that doesn’t sound like him at all.
He also didn’t get scared about walking home in the dark so asked said ‘ first person he thought of’ ( a scarred man aptly named scar ) to walk him back home. Mumbo asked him out of the goodness of his heart, as any best friend of half a decade would on a fine evening.
And so, standing by the rift between a cold, dark evening and a loving home ( as he waited for Scar to make his way over), Mumbo managed to free himself of worries just for a moment.
Because who wouldn’t love a peaceful stroll home?
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As the pair set off on their late night stroll back to Mumbo’s base, Scar had been commenting on how lovely the weather was ‘even at this time of night!’ ; was it really a conversation with Scar if he didn’t talk about the weather?
No, it wasn’t.
“I mean, honestly, I would never mind walking you home Mumbo, my dear, but this weather is just perfect for a short wander anywhere!” Scar’s eyes glowed with the unrivalled passion he had that never seemed to abandon him as he spoke, or maybe that was just the stars reflecting in his brown eyes. Mumbo couldn’t tell.
“Yeah mate, it’s not too cold , and it’s always lovely to see the stars out” He replied, gazing up towards the inky sky while trying not to trip over the fallen twigs laying on the floor. He turned to face Scar.
“You ever wondered whats beyond the sky limit?”
“No, it’s just the hub silly!”
Scar replied, tilting his head at the strange question from his friend.
“No, I mean like..” Mumbo paused, “What's beyond the hub?”
Scar went quiet, he’d never wondered despite what a big dreamer he is. He’d just always accepted that there was nothing beyond the hub, that's…all there was out there. That’s all he’d ever been told was out there. Well, maybe not all he’d been told..
“I think I remember reading about a theory people had, that there was some massive place, dark and terrifying, beyond there. They had no proof, but…It kinda stuck with me I guess. I think that’s when I started questioning people more. Wonder how I’d forget that..” His words trailed off as he looked to the trees, before turning back to stare into Mumbo’s black, beady eyes as they walked on.
“Do you remember that old myth? The one about the watchers?”