Chapter Text
This isn’t the base.
Scott knew something was up when he opened his eyes to the dark confines of a wooden box, rather than the open sky of the G base. Cautiously, given the dark, he brushed his hand against the box’s confines, feeling the cool wooden polish and the plush velvet cushions that would be supporting his body, were it not for his tail and other hybrid bits.
This… it must be a coffin, or something of the sort. Obviously made with care, a strange personal project or commissioned by some wealthy individual – a human individual, or at least human-shaped given its form… but then, why am I here?
He didn’t notice the oppressive silence of the space beyond until it was filled with chatter, the sound of two people in friendly discussion… two people he certainly didn’t recognize. Carefully, he pressed against the top of the box – if he could hear people, he likely is above ground – and found he could move it with shocking ease. Setting it besides the coffin, because that’s what it is, he realised, seeing his cage from its outside, An actual coffin. The room was dimly lit by the dying wicks of some seriously ancient candles, but he would have to be truly blind to miss the row of ornate coffins near identical to his own, some clearly lived in… and some still in use.
“Yep. Okay. Nooo~ thank you!” His voice came out louder than expected, echoing around the room and the halls beyond- silence haunting the halls louder than any voice could.
Ohhh no. Now, he’s got a couple choices- investigate the room more, go outside and hope whoever’s out there is friendly, or curl up in that coffin and go back to sleep. Tempting. He realises to late the choice has been made for him.
“Scott? Are you up yet?” They know my name. How do they know my name?? “Just checking up on you since we are all meeting up soon, and I know you need enough time to get all fancy-” The voice is feminine, and it sounds like they know him personally, well enough to know his morning routine. And a meeting? Now, do I pretend to be the person she thinks I am? Or be honest that I have no clue who she is?
The door opens, and the woman behind it is… she both is and is not what he expects? She’s clearly young, of average height and build but absolutely dwarfed by her stunning curtain of ghostly white hair, held from her face by a beautiful black tiara set with a massive blood-red gemstone. While her outfit conveyed a noble and gothic image – a black-and-white frilled dress set with more jewels, held by a red corset – her face, to say the least, was anything but.
“I. Uh. Scott?? No, you’re not- OWEN GET IN HERE!” She speaks more to herself and the hall beyond than to Scott directly, moving as if being torn in several directions as she struggles to collect her thoughts. Her last shout is aimed far beyond the room, but rather than leaving she continues to stare at him, slack jawed.
Well, he must look at least somewhat like her Scott if she is this confused, so what’s the change? Is it the outfit? He looked down at his outfit; it was a pretty typical outfit for when he joined a new life series, besides the creaking eyes he knows to be delicately embraided into the back of his jacket- yet another of his late-night idea, last minute creations by the masterful hands of Cleo. It was jarringly bright compared to her outfit, but when are his outfits not?
“What… are you?” Her voice was a whisper, cutting through his thoughts. It was not the question he expected- after all, who doesn’t recognize a unicorn hybrid? He knows his horn is planted firmly on his brow, about as visible as it gets, and he can feel his ears perched curiously upright and tail flicking nervously against his legs. Time to be confident.
“I’m a unicorn! Or, well, a unicorn hybrid, of course! You, ahm… do know what a hybrid, is...?” From her expression, she did not, in fact, know what a hybrid is. “I… are you good? Do you need to sit down?” This was enough to snap her out of her stupor, replaced by a contagious excitement.
“A HYBRID?? THEY’RE REAL??” She closed the distance between them before he could blink, bouncing and grinning with unrestrained glee. “Yeah!” He was grinning too, he realised, until he realised something. He had dismissed it as poor lighting and a uniquely excentric style of dress, but from this distance she was so clearly a vampire. Her grin betrayed sharp, elongated fangs, her wide eyes shinning a deeper red than even the jewels adorning her, so bright against her snow-white skin… but what vampire wouldn’t recognise a fellow magic folk? Was she isolated? Or did something happen to the hybrids here? Surely she isn’t lying, or trying to distract me…?
Time to test her. “And I’m a unicorn hybrid, which makes me one of the most powerful hybrids! Like real unicorns, we can cure wounds, create ice, use magic…” Anyone would know the second to be false, hybrid abilities are fairly well known even across the non-magical public; but as he was watching her for any kind of reaction, he could only see her unwavering enthusiasm. “Wow! Oh, if you are this powerful, you must meet Owen, he would be so excited to meet you! Might even get him to stop being mad at me for turning Avid…” Her rambling continued and was almost certainly not for his benefit, but he couldn’t think about that as she grabbed his wrist with a surprisingly tight grip and dragged him from the stone room, into the hall beyond.
It was his turn to gawk now, though in the girls haste he barely got to glance around at the beautiful stonework, blending walls and alters into a masterpiece of engineering he’d expect to see gracing the halls of Hermitcraft, not wasting away in some unnamed dungeon. The girl- he really needed to learn her name- navigated the endless stone halls seemingly without effort or hesitation, pulling him up a spiralling staircase into the blearily day light. He used his arm to shield his eyes from the weak light of dawn, still being dragged by the strange woman towards a towering building okay how on earth is she so strong????? He had well and truly lost track of the one-sided conversation that somehow continued the entire duration of their tour, though was brought back when she mentioned some familiar names. “Cleo? Pearl?”
She released her grip on his wrist, which now hung weakly by his side (he was fighting the urge to cradle it as circulation returned, her grip was no joke!), looking at him with some surprise. “Oh! You know them? Pearl’s a human still, so you probably won’t get to see her for a bit, but Cleo should be coming this morning!” Yeah, no, definitely not his Cleo and Pearl. Unless Cleo has found a truly impressive way of hiding her zombification, and Pearl her… whatever she is… point being, he’d sooner eat the jacket from his back then call them human, especially to their faces.
He smiled at the woman anyways, as they made their way to the grand door of a rather tall, church? Hall? Gothic, at the least, looking building. She ducked ahead, swinging open the door and gesturing for him to come inside.
He walked inside hesitantly, his eyes protesting the sudden change from dark, to light, to dark again. It didn’t take long for him to find the ‘Owen’ the strange lady had been talking about- in front of him was an elaborately large dining hall – a banquet hall, his mind supplied- and close to the end sat an ominously tall figure.
Ah. So, this is where I die.
Now, Scott was used to vampires. Mumbo was a vampire! And Mumbo is about as intimidating as a rubber duck! A rubber duck with a peculiar interest in Redstone and climbing despite the fact he can literally fly which makes no sense- Ahem. So, all this to say, this man was something different. His eyes bore into Scott’s own, and if ‘looks could kill’ was a person, this would be them. His arms, before lightly resting on the grand table clenched it as he rose, carving such a gash in the wood he would honestly believe they were coated in netherite.
“Hm. You’re not Scott. Who- what are you?” The man’s voice was deep and level, only rising in apparent confusion as he presumably notice Scott’s more obvious hybrid features. As much as I like talking about myself, I don’t want to go over this a hundred times. This also confirms his previous concern about the people in this place- this vampire, clearly senior considering both his mannerisms and his placement at the table, did not recognise him as a hybrid.
He was saved from having to answer by a slam further down the hall, attracting all eyes to the group of people walking in- some of whom, finally, he recognised.