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Cytian fumbles with their communicator. These sturdy little devices are a little stupid when your hands are as clumsy as their’s, and Cytian’s really wishing that they could just upgrade to, like, an ipad. Or something. What even is an ipad?
An ipad is only one of the things they’ve heard offhandedly from a discussion between, who was it? Zyx and Purplestix? Interesting, inch resting. They must look into that later. Perhaps on the ‘internet,’ or maybe the ‘forums,’ which sound awfully similar to a ritual of some sort. Allow them to do a forum.
They announce that to Earthluz. “I’m gonna do a forum.” He snickers at them, eerily white pupils fixating on them. They’re building an iron farm with him, struggling for their life against zombies and skeletons and godforsaken villagers. “You can’t just do a forum,” he says, fixing his hat. The wind is rather strong today, so he’s having a sort of difficult time keeping it on. Cytian drops from the stone pillars, wings spreading slightly as to catch their fall, landing next to him. “Hold on.” They tell him seriously and look in their inventory.
Cytian pulls out a roll of tape and sticks Earthluz’s hat directly to the sides of his head. It gets a bit tangled in his messy black hair, and he looks at them as if he’s trying not to laugh, biting at his lip with his eyes a little bit squinted. Cytian backs away, shrugs, “yeah. That’ll do it. Maybe.” And picks up another few stacks of stone to layer on top of each other.
Their headwings flutter slightly when the wind ruffles them just right, and Cytian sighs, craning their head up to look at the sky. What a nice life this is. What a nice life they live. They would love to spend eternity doing not much of anything. They’ve just been trailing around Earthluz for the past bit, maybe two days, observing him as he does the things he does. Like his pit of dogs, which is an object of concern, but not for them. They take more interest in his idyllic builds and his sense of style.
He’s not looking at them, right now. Earth seems focused, eyes pinned to a spot they can’t see, somewhere in his inventory, likely searching for a block. Cytian likes watching people like him, they like following their behaviors and patterns. They like watching the void-black of his skin catch the sunlight in ways that they rarely see, they like to notice the creases of his suit jacket that mean he’s been too busy working to iron his clothes. Cy likes this life. The only other person online is Doubleside, but he scares them. Perhaps one day they’ll find the time to trail him instead of Zyx.
Once they finish with their two areas, they sit on the side, all bored and looking pretty, kicking their legs back and forth and leaning against their arm. They throw a few pieces of cobble at him too, just for the giggles. It’s fun to be on this server. It’s fun to exist and have very little worries except for how fast their horse can get and how much lapis they can grab from one mining session. He looks briefly bored, just letting himself get hit in the back every time they actually aim properly. Most of the rocks go flying a few blocks to his side.
A bit more time passes. Sunset comes, night falls, and then the sun rises. Cytian stands at the bottom of the stone brick monolith and yawns, calling up to Earth; “Hey. What are you?” They say, then specify, “You look a little evil. I was wondering…” Cy trails off helpfully, looking up at him. Earthluz shrugs. “I don’t know,” and his words are a little slurred from lack of sleep. Early days are hard on them all, and from the phantoms the spawn over the clouds, they doubt Double’s been getting any sleep either. “I don’t care. I’m me.” “You’re you. And I’m me!” Earth grins, brushing his hair to the side so he can see them. “I’m Earthluz!” “I’m Cytian!” They play a fun game of back and forth before Cy bids him good night, or moreso good morning, dutifully returning to their house over the hills with a severe lack of windows.
Something about fresh air, they think drowsily, and two nights of work has done a number to them. Their feathers are a bit disheveled, grayish blue pointed in too many directions, but sleep calls to them in a way it never has before. Something about fresh air, and the mountains, and the grass and trees and bumblebees and rocks. Something about the sky?
Cytian carefully ties the lead of their horse to the front of their house, tugging open the right door, only taking a few minutes to clean up their inventory before pulling themselves upstairs into the bedroom with no door. Or windows. They don’t have nearly enough windows, but they like the breeze when they jump out of the top floors too much to remove that option.
Cy yawns again. Tugs off the few pieces of barely patched together armor and throws them onto the floor, having not acquired an armor stand yet, and throws themselves onto their bed. It’s orange, the color of the sun when it sets and the sky when it rises. They like how vibrant it is compared to the black and white checkerboard of their carpets, or the soft green of the moss above them. Orange is a nice color, they think, folding both sets of their wings around their exposed fur. Orange is nice, yeah. They should send a message to Earth and tell him to get some rest as well, but the effort to pull out their communicator is something they don’t want to fathom right now.
Sleep takes them easy. There is still time to do anything they want. There will be time tomorrow.