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Death was peaceful.
Turntapp was at peace, for the first time in a while.
He knew he didn’t deserve such a thing, especially after every kill, the negligence of his leadership, and more, yet destiny granted him this quiet, unconsciousness.
At least, until he’s suddenly standing in some cave, most likely the ones in Yggdrasill. And he sees Ish talking to-
“Saps.” The name escapes his mouth.
The one who unknowingly showed him what hope is, who changed him. He needs to see him.
Turntapp runs towards him, excitement filling his chest. He hopes the same thing could be said about Saps.
Until dread replaces it as Saps turns his back from him.
Saps merely starts walking away from him.
He…
He didn’t know how to respond to this…
The footsteps echoed in the dark cave, stretching out for what seemed miles.
“Follow him.”
Tapp turns around, seeing Ish in all his glory.
And with that hint of mischief in his eyes.
Turntapp didn’t trust him, he didn’t trust him when he was watching over his nation, and he doesn't trust him now.
…and yet.
How was he to deny himself from seeing Saps again?
“So how have you been?” The question echoed with their footsteps, the water droplets interrupting the rhythm of it every now and then.
No replies from the man in front of him.
Turntapp takes a deep sigh before shrugging and just mutters, “I get it, I promised you that I would live just a little longer for you, and now you’re mad at me for pushing you away from that dripstone.”
The quiet is all he gets, he continues to follow otherwise.
“...I see you’ve been taking care of that leg now. You’ve always said you hated it, and I understand to be honest,” Turntapp continues as he looks around the cave, noticing that its path is lit with torches but scales so widely, “To have an ability that you were so used to and even talented with taken from you is a different type of damage.” His mind then drifts back to-
His hand as he grabs the hand of the fugitive. It was not as soft nor careful as he’d imagined from a Pandoran and instead rough and cold. The wanted poster was not as exaggerated as he thought it would be. Sure, there were bets on whether the looks were false and that it was some white-haired, beautiful man or if he truly was the monster everyone believed he was.
There this fugitive was however, someone who has limbs too clattered with replaced parts of where bones or muscles should be, a huge hole of where his forearm resides, and a face stuck in a smile along with a pair of sockets of where his eyes should’ve been.
This was not a human. Nevertheless, he’d never seen eyes full of fear and paranoia for something beyond him-
Saps trips in front of him as Turntapp catches him.
His mind faintly flashes back on all those times Saps tried running with his new prosthetic leg.
He was as cold as he remembers, but before he could ask if he was okay, Saps rips himself away from him as quickly as he could before quickly walking away.
Turntapp pretends to believe that didn’t hurt him as much as his silence.
Turntapp had always preferred the quiet, but this was suffocating at best.
He knew that Saps had a habit of ranting to no end, whether it was about the time before his betrayal, his homeland, the knowledge he’d accidentally demonstrated. So for him to be so quiet, as silent as the first few months since he-
Takes out the emergency kit, one of which was specifically made for the Covenant, before turning and sitting down at one of the two chairs made for this cold tower in the Tundra.
“You need to take care of those bandages if you want them to properly heal.” Turntapp unwraps the bandages.
“Well,” Saps sits up a little, the table being the only barrier to him jabbing his finger to his chest and instead opting to his arm, “I could if you actually let me instead of doing it yourself.”
“I’m not the one who takes them off when it's convenient though, am I?” Turntapp replies, followed by a sigh from Saps though still focused on how he cared for his injured arm.
The stab wound almost went through, but not enough for a fatal injury, Turntapp thought.
He then slowly noticed something about his arm. The patterns around the injury were slowly adapting to it, circles undoing themselves as if to mark the stab wound as a remembrance.
Now that he thinks about it, the same can be said about his chest, his legs, his face even. Turntapp now wonders where he came from to inherit such a trait, to have your scars decorate themselves compared to the human scar merely invading and tearing the tissues.
Oh. He’s been staring at him.
When Turntapp looks at his face, he sees Saps’ head turned away from him and gripping his makeshift table.
“It’s funny,” he chuckles quietly, “I don’t know when I got the habit of staring so much.”
He really didn’t know why. He remembers all those times when Schpood would make an offhanded comment on it, and when Cynikka had side-eyed him when they were making their way to Elysium once.
Then, after much debating in his mind, Turntapp adds, “I also don’t know when you’d become so quiet all of a sudden.”
Saps, yet again, ignores him as a long, stony staircase is then seen a few feet away.
Turntapp wouldn’t have cared so much if it weren’t for the fact that this was Saps.
This man is gonna kill him.
The staircases were long and steep, but they both made it work. Turntapp didn’t know what else to say to be honest, since Saps was usually the one to bring up topics and the like.
Then he remembers something. Saps’ promise-
“If I have to die,” Saps says, looking toward the sunset with such fury and determination, “I’m gonna make sure he does too.”
“Did you do it?” Turntapp asks.
Yet again, only silence.
“...Well if you did,” he continues, “That’s good. From what I heard of him, he was slippery to catch, just as all snakes are.”
There were no noises around them left, no water drops, no folding nor popping within the cave, only the sounds of their footsteps.
Though what followed was a slip of a step, before tracking back up
…Did Saps regret killing that snake?
Surely he couldn’t…
He shouldn’t, the snake ruined his life, took whatever safety he had on Pandora away from him, turned his friends against him, and for what? The fear of-
Oh.
Turntapp remembers now.
The Covenant were the ones mostly encouraging the propaganda against Pandora.
Oh dear god.
“Do you blame the council for what happened to you?” Turntapp quickly asks, this time desperation showing as he walks quicker than before.
“If so, we didn’t know what else to do-”
The food were always too little to share, the council were always at each others throat, and it only took Zynn finally getting the upper hand against Turntapp for him to realize how much of a shitty leader he was-
“...No. It’s my fault. I’m sorry.” Turntapp slows his pace, looking down at his hands, as if they were covered in blood.
They always were.
Saps still doesn’t even reply, once again.
Of course. Of course he wouldn't talk him. It's the Covenant's fault he was framed anyways.
It was his fault.
“I was the reason you are here, was I? Can you just say something??”
Nothing.
“Can you even look at me, Saps?”
Turntapp stops.
“…please?”
He hears Saps’ footsteps as he continues up to the Overworld, the sunlight illuminating the exit.
He didn’t know what to do now. Should he even-
Should he even follow…
Turntapp looks back down at the staircase he and Saps started climbing up, leading back into the cold and dark that was potentially where he’d been residing this whole time in death.
He then realizes something.
Was this a test by Ish? As if to ask, “how far would you go for him?”
Well, if it were his past self, Turntapp would answer, “Until the bounty is higher than the diamonds given to him.”
Was he not supposed to follow him? Was this a test on his greed?
...But Saps was so close to the exit, what if he never sees him again?
Is he even allowed to go out there?
So many questions filled his head, but his impulse got him running towards the man.
To answer how far would Turntapp go for him? With everything he had left in this life.
Oh how the great and scary “dictator” has fallen up from his high pedestal of “godhood” for not the devil nor angel, but for a man.
Maybe he didn’t care that he was ignored. Maybe he also didn’t care that he possibly wasn’t as cared for as that snake was, but he didn’t care he di-
Then they were both face to face, as Saparata finally turned back around.
The sunlight hit Saps from the back, his face frozen but his eyes wide-opened as he takes him in.
He was an arm-stretch away.
And he sees him.
“It’s you.” Saps states, pure horror tracing his face for a reason Turntapp couldn’t dictate.
But so much love poured into those two words.
And he himself could only simply respond:
“It’s me.”
Turntapp feels something crawling up to drag him back into the darkness. Perhaps the darkness was angry that he dared try to defy death for the sake of having a glimpse of Saps, but he didn’t care.
“Saps..”
“Tapp-”
For the first time, he hears Saps scream as he tries chasing his shadow, before his vision fades for the last time.
But he had no complaints, for he knew he was loved.