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Once upon a time there was a tomb. A mausoleum, really. Except that’s not quite right. A living mausoleum, perhaps - tombs for the living, ones who would never make it out and be forever trapped inside.
This mausoleum was made of glistening quartz and honey froglights. A beautiful, beautiful structure. All of this was built for just one person - he had built the entire world for one person. I’d do anything for you, Parrot.
Once upon a time, Wifies and Parrot stood opposite each other as the click of pressure plates resounded in the chamber and redstone mechanisms hissed and creaked. How they started. Once upon a time, an avian hybrid dropped a spyglass on a pressure plate. Once upon a time, they stepped back, eyes full of sorrowful surrender, and ascended the spiral staircase. Once upon a time, Parrot killed Wifies.
But it was, ultimately, Wifies’ choice to live or to die. Because in that moment…
He watches Parrot ascend the staircase. Silent. A statue. His face is a porcelain mask. Parrot’s going somewhere he can’t reach, now, up to heaven or someplace like it - free from Wifies. Steps and steps and fading steps until he can’t hear his best friend anymore and he knows Parrot has gone to the top. Waiting.
Waiting for a death message. The cogs and gears of the redstone machine turn and turn, and it is only here, on the brink of death, that he realizes how wrong he was. An utter fool. To imprison a bird, to threaten them with death, just to keep them safe in a parody of the real world?
But there’s no more time to say his sorry’s because his time is ticking closer and Parrot’s too far away to hear him. I’m sorry, Parrot, he thinks. His hand hovers over the totem in his inventory - he knew it would come to this. But what would he live for? What would he do with his life, after he defied death, after he ignored the Grim Reaper knocking on his door?
Would he go back to tormenting Parrot?
Obviously not. But he would never, ever be forgiven - frankly, he doesn’t deserve it. And there is no-one Wifies lives for more than Parrot. If Parrot wasn’t here, wasn’t with him, well then. Wifies wouldn’t want to live, anyway. He wouldn’t want to be snatched from the jaws of death only to live the rest of his life on a strawberry farm… alone.
Until next time, Parrot.
Click of a pressure plate as a person steps off it - hissing and spitting, furious bitter TNT, determined to destroy its creator - cold hands gripping a cracked spyglass - double pings in a communicator.