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Telamon has always prided himself for being generous.
He was known as a generous, benevolent god—one who had always answered prayers and granted Robloxians’ wishes without hesitation. He loved seeing the joy in their eyes, seeing the excitement that followed once their wishes were fulfilled. Although it took up much of his energy, he didn't mind. And for a long time, that joy alone was enough to justify everything he did.
That is, until everything went wrong—when Robloxians slowly began to change.
Gradually, they became more selfish. They began to care only for themselves, and what they could gain. They wanted to exploit his kindness—their wishes were no longer made out of hope, but instead their own selfish cruelty. They would wish for terrible things to befall others, or ask for power and fortune meant solely for their own benefit, without any regard for the consequences. And Telamon had to listen to every request—just like he always did—but over time, he grew tired, and disillusioned with them.
Eventually, Telamon stopped caring at all.
He withdrew from the world, and began keeping to himself more and more—until words about his presence began to fade, turning more into a myth. He continued to fulfill his duties, and carry out the tasks assigned to him—he never stopped doing that—but he did so from a distance, no longer attached to the lives of Robloxians.
And yet, he still had an eternity to spare. An endless lifetime to be free.
Eventually, he grew restless. One day, he decides to take a break from his responsibilities, and travel down to observe Robloxians once again—not as a god, but as a bystander. He wanted to see what they did when no wishes were involved, to understand how they spent their free time. And maybe, if he watched closely enough, he would learn why they had become so selfish in the first place.
He took a day off. Unannounced, of course—Builderman would never allow such a thing. But what he doesn't know won't kill him.
He has tried to make himself seem less… suspicious. He had pulled his hood lower, and carefully hid his wings beneath his robe, making sure nothing slipped out of place. Even then, he couldn't help but notice a few stares aimed at him along the way—simple brief glances that lingered just a second too long. He pretended not to notice. Oh well, at least he had tried.
He continues to wander around town, strolling about aimlessly. He watches the various Robloxians carry on with their lives. There were groups of families that walked together, talking and laughing as they passed by him. There were friends too, gathered in small groups—all clearly enjoying each other’s company. At first, it seemed very sweet, seeing them be happy—but after a while, it also felt…
Boring. There's only so much he can watch before it gets old.
At that moment, his stomach suddenly rumbles, loud enough to turn a few heads nearby, into his direction. Right. In his haste, he had forgotten to eat. Telamon stiffen, his face flushing red with embarrassment as he quickly looks away. He adjusts his hood, ensuring his face couldn't be seen clearly. He hopes no one would say anything about it—truly, how embarrassing!
He rushes out of the area, moving as quickly as he can. In his hurry, he passes by a few food places, and he considers his various options. To him, all of them look equally appetising—and he spends some time deciding, still deep in thought, until his gaze finally settles on a familiar building.
Builder Brother’s Pizzeria.
It was a well-known establishment—one so famous that even the admins, and the gods above them, were aware of it. Without any further thought, he headed towards it. Beside the pizzeria, was an empty fried chicken stall. However, the shutters at the windows were pulled low, and the place looked abandoned, with no customers inside—so Telamon barely gave it a second glance. Instead, he steps right inside the pizzeria, eager for a warm meal.
The rich aroma of pizza greets him almost immediately. The place was full of chatter—conversations from tables nearby, mixed in with fond laughter. Although it was a bit noisy, Telamon felt strangely at ease. No one would question his disguise. After all, everyone was too busy with their own meals, and too preoccupied talking with the others at their own tables. He could finally take a moment to breathe properly.
He walks forward, approaching the counter as calmly as he could manage. As he moves forward, he pulls the hood slightly, trying to keep closer around his face. However, in doing so, he ends up accidentally bumping into someone nearby. He paused, intending to continue on with his movements, but the other person—the one he accidentally bumped into, stopped. He turned towards him, a sour look on his expression.
“Hey, watch it.”
Telamon looks up.
There's a thin man standing in front of him, wearing a black jacket trimmed with red at the edges. It hangs loosely from his shoulders. He also has a strange-looking cap with a burger design—honestly, it looks like a cheap knock-off—pulled low over his face. Still, even Telamon can see the thin, pink-framed glasses resting on his nose—with one of the lenses being cracked at the corner.
Normally, Telamon would have dismissed a Robloxian like this without a second thought, but today, he needs to stay unnoticed, and not cause a scene. He couldn't risk Builderman discovering his whereabouts—he didn't want to deal with whatever punishment the man would have cooked up for him later. He needs to apologise. Now.
“I… apologise,” he murmurs quietly, the word feeling unfamiliar on his tongue. It wasn't every day he did something like this. What a lucky Robloxian.
The man lets out a tired sigh and simply waves him off. “Whatever. It’s fine.”
With that, Telamon gives them a brief nod of thanks, before stepping past him, and towards the counter. He hoped that would be the end of it, and everything would go smoothly afterwards. But little did he know—somehow, it would only get worse.
“Hi, welcome to Builder Brother’s Pizza! What can I get you?”
The cashier greets him cheerfully, a bright smile plastered on his face. To Telamon, it looks genuine—almost startlingly so. It seems surprising how someone can look that happy while working, especially considering all the complaints he’s dealt with overworked Robloxians in the past. They truly were such interesting creatures… he doubts he could ever feel the same way, especially if he was forced to complete a task that was this repetitive. His gaze drifts downwards, until it lands to the badge pinned neatly to the man’s chest. On it, it reads the name—Elliot Builder.
Strange. Just like Builder Brothers’ Pizza. What an interesting coincidence.
“Ah, well…” Telamon begins hesitantly. He glances up, looking at the menu board before eventually settling on the first thing he recognises. He points upwards, and gestures towards it. “A pepperoni pizza…?"
“Got it!” Elliot replies instantly, his smile never wavering. "Would you like any drinks or sides to go with it?”
“No, I believe not. Thank you, Mr. Builder.”
Elliot blinks, momentarily thrown off by the mention of his surname. But he quickly smoothens over his expression and continues to smile at Telamon, acting as though nothing was amiss.
“Alright then. Will that be robux, or coins, sir?”
Telamon freezes. Robux… Coins…? What even was that? What was this Robloxian talking about?
He reaches into the pocket of his robes, and pulls out the familiar pouch of tix he had brought with him. He had prepared more than enough—far more than necessary, or so he had thought.
“What about tix?”
Elliot’s brow furrows just slightly, though his smile still remains in place. “I’m sorry, sir—but we only accept robux or coins.”
“Ah…” Telamon lowers his gaze, a hint of embarrassment creeping in. He hasn't kept up with all of Builderman’s patch updates—he always found them to be incessant and tedious to look through, and not of any proper importance. But now, standing here, he regrets that decision more than ever. Was he really neglecting his duties that much…?
“Forget it. I’ll find somewhere else to eat, Mr. Builder.”
Elliot looks confused, and his mouth parts as if he wants to say something. But before they could respond, Telamon was already turning away, moving towards the door. He heads straight for it, trying to make a clean escape. He can't stand to be here any longer.
How embarrassing... Since when did the currencies change and get an update? Had he truly fallen that far behind? Was he really so out of touch with his duties now…?
Then, he catches sight of someone familiar.
It's the same man from earlier, the Robloxian he had bumped into. But this time, he’s standing behind him, waiting for his turn, and looking quite anxious. Telamon glances back at Elliot—and he sees how their expression shifts, how their cheerful smile disappears entirely the moment their eyes land on the man. Perhaps those two have some form of old history together—but Telamon doesn't question it. He doesn't have the patience or energy to wonder why. He just needs to get out of here.
And so, he does.
Outside, he circles around to the back of the building. He walks around, trying to find a place to rest—and eventually settles for a quiet corner of the carpark, one tucked out of sight. He sinks down against the wall, and lets himself slump to the ground, his shoulders sagging in disappointment as the aftermath starts to settle in. In the past, he hadn't given much thought to what Robloxians ate—but losing what would be his one and only chance to try the famous Builder Brothers’ Pizza hurt more than he expected. Maybe this was a sign from up above—and it was telling him he should just return home and call it a day before he ran into any more unnecessary trouble.
But before he can prepare to leave, a voice interrupts his thoughts. They seem to be calling out to him.
“Hey, you! Weird guy. Do you want some chicken?”
Telamon looks up, startled.
It's the same man again, standing a short distance away. He’s holding a paper bag, and there seems to be a box of fried chicken inside—it’s likely that he got it from the stall next door. Telamon doesn't ask why he didn't get pizza—judging by Elliot’s reaction earlier, he can guess well enough. He reaches out to accept the offering, but hesitates, his hand hovering there.
He’s grateful for their kindness. And he’s also starving. But he can't simply take this without considering the risks. On one hand, it could truly be an act of kindness—which was rare from Robloxians nowadays. Or, it could be something else entirely—which was what he had suspected. Perhaps it was laced with poison, and they planned to make an attempt on his life. Poison couldn't really harm him—but for him, getting a stomachache from it would still be unpleasant.
He draws his hand back slightly and studies the man more carefully, his eyes narrowing just a little.
“Why are you offering this to me?”
The man tilts his head slightly, looking almost annoyed by the question. “Why not? I don't get why you’re asking—it’s free food. I mean, isn't that part of being kind? Giving to the poor, or whatever…” His voice trails off for a moment, lost in thought—before he shrugs, shaking the memory away. “Plus, I get it. You’re broke. So am I—and that's why I had to get a saver meal of chicken instead of pizza.”
Telamon immediately splutters out a protest—the words seem to tumble out of his mouth before he can stop them. “Tel—I mean, I am not! I’m nowhere as poor as you seem to be insinuating!"
The man scoffs, clearly unimpressed. "Whatever you say, man.” He drops down beside Telamon, settling onto the sidewalk with a soft thud. He places the bag of chicken between them, and opens the box, letting the delicious aroma fill the air. “You gonna take it, or nah? I can't be waiting forever—I’m hungry too, you know."
But Telamon still finds himself hesitating. His instincts tell him to refuse the offer—he’s offended by their words, indignant wven—but his stomach betrays him again with another loud rumble. He sighs, completely defeated. He supposes it wouldn't hurt to take just one bite… and so, against his better judgement, he finally reaches out to grab a piece of chicken. He brings it to his mouth, cautious at first, then takes a quick bite.
One bite turns into another, and soon, Telamon has finished the entire piece of chicken—he’s eaten far more than he had intended too. "Damn,” the man mutters, raising an eyebrow in surprise. “You must really be hungry."
He pulls out another piece from the box, and offers it to them. “Don’t eat it too quickly, or you’ll choke,” he says, before adding something else under his breath. "My wallet isn't gonna be happy about this…”
But Telamon doesn't hear him—he’s too busy eating. He’s never had fried chicken before—or even proper Robloxian food at all—and to him, the taste is simply divine. Meanwhile, the man leans back and continues to speak, though it seems like he’s talking more to himself than anything.
“Kinda sucks,” he remarks, staring off toward the pizzeria. “Been craving that pizza all day. I thought I finally got Elliot to lay off my case too…” He shakes his head, glancing back as Telamon reaches for yet another piece. “Guess today just isn’t my lucky day, huh?”
At that, Telamon pauses mid-bite, and lowers the piece of chicken slowly. “Don’t say that—it’s far from the truth.”
The man stops and turns towards him, caught off-guard by their sudden response. “And why would you say that?”
“It's because you met me, of course! Not every Robloxian gets such a precious opportunity.”
“Right…” The man murmurs, looking more suspicious of him now—like he can't quite tell if there's more to Telamon that meets the eye, or if he’s just another nutcase one ban away from being terminated. “Well then,” he says, before reaching into the box, and grabbing a piece of chicken for himself. He takes a bite. “Now’s as good of a time as any.”
Then, he asks the question—the one that he’s clearly been holding back all this time.
“What’s your name?”
Of course. Telamon should have known they would ask that question. After all, it's always the first thing those Robloxians ask—questioning about their usernames, trying to find more about each other’s identities. He’s watched BrightEyes interrogate far too many users before. And he himself had seen its importance to most Robloxians first-hand—through the countless requests for name changes over the years, and the endless complaints about names that were already unique. He never understood it. Shouldn't they be proud of their name? Wasn't it something special to them—? Oh, well. He supposes that Robloxians were… demanding.
The man clears his throat expectantly. Telamon realizes he’s been quiet for far too long. He needs to answer their question.
“Well… I suppose…”
Telamon’s mind begins to race, searching for something ordinary—a name that wouldn't draw any attention or suspicion from them. Eventually, he settles on the first name that comes to mind.
“...it’s John. That's my name."
He isn't quite sure why he chose it. He doesn't wish to give away his real name—so he had to come up with something, fast. It was the name of one of Builderman’s employees—and a rather common one among Robloxians. It felt… safe. A name that over time, someone would forget.
But the man raises an eyebrow, still not satisfied with their response. "John? Really? That's all you’ve got?” He lets out a short laugh. "There's like, a million users named that. Come on, you gotta have something better. Ain’t everyone’s user supposed to be unique and all? Unless that’s another one of the admins’ bullshit—”
He cuts himself off, before nervously glancing around. It seems like he’s suddenly realised how loud he was getting. “I mean, well…” He gestures vaguely at the box of chicken between them. "I got you fried chicken, for admins’ sake. I feel like I deserve better. Give me a last name, maybe…?"
Normal Robloxians don't ask such questions, right? He remembered a lot of things about them… but they weren't usually this nosy. No, this man… he was different. And Telamon wasn't sure if he liked that, or not. He really didn't enjoy the look in their eyes—they seem curious, like they’re trying to piece together bits of a puzzle—and to find something tangible, so they can use it to trace it back to him later. Telamon looks away briefly, scanning the empty carpark as his mind fumbles for an excuse.
And then, a name slips out. Something he came across a long time ago, back when he actually cared. He doesn't know where it's from—maybe from a previously terminated user, or an old friend. But it sounds right—and for the situation, it seems good enough
“Shedletsky. That's my name… John Shedletsky.”
“There you go," the man says, smiling now. He seems satisfied. He reaches out to give Telamon an encouraging pat on the back, but the sudden contact makes him flinch in instinct. Beneath his robes, his wings twitch—it flutters about just enough to shift the fabric off. His hood nearly slips off—it’s a miracle his wings weren't exposed in the chaos.
The man jerks his hand back, his eyes widening in shock. "What the—sorry! I didn't think you have… that…. uh. Wow.”
A brief silence follows as the man seems to process what had just happened, and understand what Telamon has been hiding all this time. He runs a hand through his hair, trying to wrap his head around whatever—or whoever—Telamon might be. "Well,” he mutters softly," “I guess it's my turn to introduce myself."
With his free hand, he gestures towards himself. “I go by Seven, but my friend calls me Sev—I guess you can call me that too, since we’re on… a first-name basis, and all. I gave you fried chicken, and you gave me your full name—it’s probably fair, or something."
Telamon simply nods in response. He doesn't add anything—he’s still trying to calm down after that whole fiasco, and thinking about how he almost accidentally revealed his true identity. Seven squints at him for a moment, and begins to study his face intently—so intently that it briefly makes him wonder if he’s been found out. But then Seven looks away, clearly dismissing whatever was running through his mind—and for that, Telamon was glad. He didn't want to deal with Builderman right now—especially over something this insignificant.
"Say,” Seven starts off, keeping his voice casual, "you still got that tix on you? I don't mind treating you to the chicken, but it seems you’re more loaded than I thought.”
There it is. The catch—he knew Robloxians never gave things for free. They were always greedy—wanting more, wishing for fortune—but only for themselves. Telamon should have seen it coming—all of them were the same. Somehow, they had still remained as selfish as ever, with no kindness to spare—even after all these years, even with Telamon’s disappearance from the spotlight—some things never changed. Still, he lets Seven continue—he’s curious about how the man will justify his greed.
“Food ain't cheap, you know? The bills don't pay themselves, and I’m in a tight spot right now… can't exactly afford paying for another, especially since you’re that rich. I already have another mouth to feed at home.”
This… wasn't greed. As much as Seven tried to pass it off as an insincere act of kindness, meant only to exploit him in return—Telamon could tell that wasn't the case. No, he seemed worried—about not having enough money, and this supposed other Robloxian he had to feed at home. A friend, perhaps? A child…?
Telamon tilts his head, and takes a closer look at him. Seven looks thin—too thin to be considered as healthy. It seems like he skips meals often—not that he would ever admit. Then, Telamon glances down at the chicken in his hands, and realises that Seven had barely eaten any of it himself. A thought settles uncomfortably in his mind—one that fills him with guilt, for ever daring to question his kindness. Had Seven spent what little he had just to buy him—Telamon, someone who was practically a stranger—food?
First, it's guilt that rises in his chest—but it's followed by something brighter, almost unexpected. A warm sensation, one he thought he would never feel again… it’s hope. Hope for the future, and for all of Robloxia. To him, this was a sign—there was still some kindness in the world, and redemption to be made—maybe not all Robloxians were as doomed as he had previously believed.
Telamon leans forward in a rush, and clasps Seven’s hands in excitement. “I truly must thank you for your kindness, Seven! Tela—I mean, I never had intended to trouble you, kind Robloxian—”
“Uh…” Seven stiffens, clearly caught off guard by their sudden enthusiasm. He was expecting them to reject their request, but he never would have expected… this. “It's no problem—?"
It's at that moment that Telamon realises what he’s doing—he’s probably scared the poor Robloxian! Embarrassed, he releases their hands from his grip, and instead reaches into his pocket. He digs around carefully, looking for the pouch of tix, before pulling it out, and placing it into Seven’s hands. And they open it, without much enthusiasm or expectation—it’s almost as if they’re bracing for disappointment, like they believe it's some sort of scam. But as they look inside, they can't help but gasp in astonishment.
“Holy shit!”
Telamon is startled by the outburst, and a concerned look flickers across his expression. Perhaps Robloxians were no longer used to the mention of tix… it must be outdated, almost like an ancient relic to them.
Seven continues to stare down at the contents of the pouch, his disbelief giving way to pure awe. “Woah, I can't believe this stuff is actually legit! I didn't know you were this loaded… It’s no wonder you don't know what robux even is—this stuff’s practically ancient!” He pulls out a single piece of tix, turning it over in his fingers to study it even more closely. “Just one of these would probably be worth a fortune…”
For a moment, Seven looks tempted to keep it all, and his grip around the pouch tightly, ever so slightly. Honestly, Telamon doesn't care—they know they have too much of it lying around, and all of it was going to waste in his possession. Instead, he goes back to eating, pretending to be blissfully unaware—but he still notices Seven occasionally glancing back at them, clearly conflicted and contemplating on what to do. He bites his lip, nearly drawing blood—before sighing quietly, and giving in. “Damn that kid… he would probably be disappointed if I pulled something like that, huh…?”
He hands the pouch back to Telamon. “I can't accept this—you should keep it. I ain't no scammer… you and I both know that chicken ain't even worth half of a tix."
Now, it's Telamon’s turn to be surprised. He had expected them to keep a few pieces of tix, or at least one—not return it all to him. He’s genuinely confused this time—he didn't expect this to happen. A Robloxian, refusing such wealth…? He hadn't thought such characters still existed.
Then, Seven pushes the box containing the rest of the chicken towards Telamon, and rises to his feet. "Have the rest of it. Hell, I don't even like chicken that much anyway.”
And that makes Telamon smile. Finally, he seems to understand the complexity of Robloxians—and there was more to it than what meets the eye. Sometimes, what they said didn't match their actions, or what they expressed didn't convey their true intentions. He might not fully understand Robloxians, but he seems to have a better grasp on them now, through this stranger. It wasn't that they didn't enjoy chicken—they were trying to be kind, and uphold their earlier words of the meal being their treat. After all, who could ever hate fried chicken? It seemed so tasty… it would be hard to reject such a delicious meal.
And so, Telamon gives a small nod of appreciation, and accepts the chicken gratefully. Seven doesn't say anything, and turns to leave. But before he can, Telamon speaks up, stopping him in his tracks.
“Still, I cannot leave you going empty-handed—it wouldn't be right. So before you go… I promise, I will repay you.”
Seven pauses, and glances back at them with a puzzled look on his face. “You want to… repay me?” He shakes his head, vehemently denying such an offer. “You don't have to do anything. It didn't even cost that much… and it's my treat, yeah?” He starts to ramble off again. "Beside, I don't even need anything—”
But Telamon refuses to take that for an answer. He doesn't wish to owe them anything, and wants to repay them for their kindness. Even if they refused his tix, he would find some other way to repay them, even if it was in the future. Once again, he reaches into his coat, and gently plucks a loose feather from his wing. "Here,” he murmurs softly, offering it to them.
“Uh…” Seven mumbles, before taking the feather, and examining it between his fingers. “What even is this—?"
Telamon only smiles knowingly—he couldn't tell them the importance of that feather. At least, not now. “It's something you can use to call me," he explains to them slowly. "If you ever need anything—to request a favour from me, or simply require my presence—just tug at it lightly, and I will come to your aid, Seven.”
“Sure…” Seven says slowly, looking uncertain. He doesn't seem entirely convinced by Telamon’s promise—but he doesn't quite dismiss the notion either. Still, he keeps the feather carefully, tucking it deep into the pocket of his jacket. "I appreciate the… gift.”
“Of course!” Telamon laughs, his voice coming out warm and genuine. He knows that to Seven, that feather might not seem like much. But to Telamon, it meant everything to him—he was a man of his word, and he would never, ever break his promises, no matter what. "What a fortunate Robloxian you are…”
Then, he too, rises to his feet, and begins to adjust his robes—he’s trying to free his wings, so he can fly properly. It's the fastest way to get back—and he’ll deal with the consequences later. It would be fine if Seven sees—they seem to know he wasn't just any ordinary Robloxian—and they did feel his wings earlier, so they already knew his secret. And hence, he prepares to depart. In one hand, he holds the bag of chicken, keeping it securely in place as he loosens the fabric around his shoulders with his other free hand. “Now, I truly must go—duty calls. Until we meet again, Seven!”
“Wait, what are you even talking about—”
But it's too late.
Before he knows it, Telamon is already airborne, flying high into the sky. Seven stands below, feather tucked in his pocket. He’s been rooted to the ground, feeling completely at a loss at the sight before him. Did that guy just… take off, and fly into the sky? He had thought he was just helping some broke stranger out, and giving them a free meal of some of the worst chicken in all of Robloxia. But as it turns out, he had been very wrong. Very, very wrong.
I mean, Seven knew they had wings—he had felt them earlier, when he tried to pat their back—but he didn't expect the guy to just take off from the ground and start flying away! That idea had just seemed ridiculous—even if he told anyone, no one would believe him. But it's not like he was going to tell anyone, anyway—and it's not like he had anyone to tell either. Man, what a loser. He’s such a loser.
“What a weirdo," Seven mutters under his breath, reaching into his pocket to check if the feather was still there. And it was—it served as the only reminder that whatever he had just experienced, and the sight he had witnessed—was actually real, and not just a figment of his imagination. That a random stranger had just taken off into the sky, and started flying. Yep, totally normal.
"I told him to call me Sev… but he still kept calling me Seven, even until the end. That guy just doesn't listen at all...”
He pulls out the feather, and looks at it closely. In his grasp, it feels soft—it’s a silky smooth feeling against his fingertips. It doesn't seem like any ordinary feather too—it doesn't look like any birds he’s ever come across. Its colour was unique, and under the sunlight, it seemed to sparkle faintly. He doesn't have a clue on what to do with it. Maybe it could work as a quill or something—he could use it to finish all the paperwork that’s been piling up at his desk. But it looked precious, something that had a purpose far greater than, well… paperwork. Maybe he’ll tuck it away somewhere, and keep it safe. That's probably for the best.
Honestly? Seven never expected this at all. He thought he was just being kind to someone, like what he had been encouraged to do—he didn't think it would lead to this. After all this time, he had become soft, and was trying to be kind to others—and he hadn't even realised when it had all started. Maybe the kid was rubbing off on him more than he liked to admit—giving him that urge to do better, to actually become a good person—and to be someone worth looking up to. Someone they could be proud of.
What a strange guy… and what a silly kid. Life sure has its surprises, huh?
He lets out a sigh, and a small, almost amused smile tugs at the corner of his mouth.
Not that he minded that at all. Somehow, it gave him hope—that maybe, things would get better, and he could turn over a new leaf. After all he has struggled through, trying to become a better person—it felt like that effort was finally paying off, and being recognised by others, even if it was by a complete stranger.
And for that, he was glad. As small as that gesture seemed… for him, it was enough.