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Grief is a weird concept. Flow can't say he really knows what it feels like. Sure, losing a base he's worked hard on sucks, but he can hardly call that grief. He hasn't lost anyone to a glitch in the universe, hasn't had to deal with losing a hardcore world or something similar.
He sure as hell never expected to be dealing with it during an event between friends of all places.
The silence is too fucking loud. He's at spawn, he still remembers. He can feel the grass underneath him, tickling his face through his fur. Everything else is a blur. All sound is muffled too; maybe there's people talking, maybe the fight continued without him, he can't tell.
None of it matters in the end. All he can see is the remains of his horn on the grass in front of him. A horn that, not five minutes ago, had still been attached to his head. He hadn't even used magic—unfair advantages aren't allowed, he'd fully accepted that. Now it lays severed from his head, sparking with white and pink magic, splatters of blood standing out on the light exterior.
The scene replays in the back of his mind over and over, like he's trying and failing to process what exactly happened. It had been such a normal fight. He'd been laughing. He can remember the shrill sound of diamond scraping over diamond. Potions breaking. Webs and water being placed.
Maybe he can remember all of that, or maybe his mind is filling in the blanks of a familiar scene and no fight happened in the first place.
Who had he been fighting? Yungy? He's pretty sure Mugm was around, and Squid. One of them managed to shove him to the ground. One of them managed to lift a sword above his head for a blow they both knew would kill him. One of them brought it down just as he turned his head away and sliced the sword straight through his horn.
He does remember seeing his own face in the warped reflection of the blade, more confused than anything. As soon as the weapon left and he could see the severed horn, the realisation had kicked in.
Flow is still there. Slowly, he starts to feel the blood trickling down his face. It just barely manages to miss his eye, open wide and staring. Part of him can't believe the horn is gone. That part gets him moving, a hand slowly reaching up to touch his forehead, where the horn is supposed to be. A trick. His mind is telling him it's a trick. His hand tells him differently. The second he touches the stump, magic zaps his hand. Quick and painful but evidence enough. From the split second he touched it, he felt the almost clean cut.
It's gone. It's actually gone.
"Flow—" That's Yungy, he's pretty sure. "Flow, I'm so sorry. It was an accident, I swear!" Strangely enough, grief coats Yungy's voice too, like he's mourning for him. Funny how that goes.
His lungs feel extra tight when he wraps his fingers around the horn in front of him. The bone is heavier in his hand than it ever felt atop his head. He runs a thumb over the ridges and the curve, further upsetting the magic as it flows and reacts to his hand. It seems to recognise him still but like any living thing in shock, it lashes out, sending shocks up his arm.
He directs his eyes to Yungy, who immediately flinches. The guy has already taken off his helmet, holding it in front of his chest as he ducks his head. With the guiltiest look on his face, it does little to make Flow feel better. If anything, he wants to wipe that stupid look right off. He wants to kill him. Flow really wants to kill him for this.
Getting up on his feet somehow doesn't take much effort. His teeth are grinding over each other, grip on the horn in his hand so tight he might break it a second time. He leaves it in his inventory and switches it out for his trusty sword.
Yungy raises a hand—as if he can do anything to calm him down at this point. "Flow, let's go to Minute, okay? He's around here somewhere. I know I fucked up, bro. I fucked up but you're in shock. Let's go find Minute, yeah? It'll be okay."
But he's shaking his head well before Yungy's finished. He doesn't want to go find Minute. That man is too much of a peacekeeper, a friend of them both. No, he wants to kill Yungy and he wants to do it now. His fingers flex impatiently around the hilt of his weapon, glare growing angrier and angrier the longer he has to look at an alive Yungy.
"Fight me. We weren't done yet." Through the rage, he can't be satisfied at how his opponent steps back in fear and uncertainty. His tail swishes in agitation.
"Flow …" Yungy's helmet disappears into his inventory and now he holds both hands up as a surrender. "I don't want to fight you. You're hurting. Trust me— I know you don't want to right now, but you need to trust me. Fighting is going to make the pain worse. Let's get your teammates, then we can—"
He swings his sword before he has to hear a single other word. It slices through the skin on Yungy's arm, effectively drawing blood. The red is a stark contrast to the blue of his diamond sword. He stares at it for a second before his eyes find his opponent again. Yungy is clutching his arm, looking about as terrified as he looks worried. Magic sparks from his horn at the sight, violent and painful. It arcs down his face like lightning, reacting to his own blood that still drips down.
"Fight me!" That's the only warning he gives him before he swings his sword again in a deadly arc above his head. He brings the weapon down on Yungy, who has the common sense to catch it with a shield. Still, he wildly underestimated him; the force of the attack slides him back on the grass an inch. Beneath the shield, his opponent gives him a guilty look.
He knows what he did. He knows he deserves this too. Flow despises him.
"If you had any honour, you'd actually fight me. If you had any decency, you'd lay down and die for me." He brings his sword down on the shield again. Then again and again and again, chipping away at the wood and the iron edges.
"I don't want to fight you, bro!" Yungy yells at him. Flow knows differently. Yungy is as chaos and battle-hungry as he is.
What makes him think he gets any choice anyway? He goes in for another attack but uses the way Yungy braces for it as a chance to grab at the edge of the shield. Pulling it away, he shoves a boot into Yungy's chest to rip the shield from his arm. It takes some effort—and some cracking, screaming, and thrashing—but he manages to get it free. He drops it on the grass when his opponent clutches his broken arm to his chest with a horrified look up at him. Flow's figure casts an ominous shade over him. He grins wildly.
He doesn't need to say anything. If he had any words, the painful sparks of his horn's stump shut him up. Again, he kicks at his chest, then settles his weight on him as he stands over him. Yungy wheezes in pain. There's a plea on his face. One Flow ignores.
"Aren't you going to fight back? Run for your life?" This doesn't feel like how it's supposed to go. He's supposed to feel better when he's hurting Yungy. It's supposed to be payback.
"Killing me isn't going to help, Flow! Can we just chill and—" he wheezes for air when Flow puts a little more pressure on his chest, "—and talk about this?"
"I'm done talking!" The realisation that he's never been this impatient or unreasonable doesn't hit him until all of this blows over, really. If only he could realise that now, when he sinks down to connect his fist with Yungy's nose to break that too. "Fight me, Yungy!"
The fact that he remembers his name in the haze of red that's taking over his mind—or maybe it's the blood that does seep into his eye now—is a wonder.
It snaps something in Yungy too, apparently. At his name, he pushes Flow back. He shoves the foot off his chest and turns around to get up, but he forgets about his broken arm and crashes right back into the dirt with a yell. So instead of running, he crawls. And maybe he makes it about a block or two before his head is slammed into the ground.
"There you go," Flow coos. He lifts Yungy's face up by the hair and hums in dissatisfaction when there's no blood on the guy's face. So, he rams his head into the ground again. A third time too, for good measure. Then he lifts it again to look at him. Blood trickles from his nose. Grass is stuck to his cheek. He blinks in Flow's direction in his daze. "Wasn't so hard to just do what I said, was it?"
"Flow …" Yungy's voice is hoarse. There's a distinct lack of blood in his mouth that grates against Flow's nerves. "Please." A hand tries to reach for his wrist but it's of no use.
He could slit his throat. Slitting his throat would be easy, really easy. He'd get a heart out of it too. And yet it doesn't feel as satisfying as punching him to death. He flips him over, keeping him down with a knee to his chest.
That's when an idea hits him. He glances over at the shield he ripped from Yungy's hands. A breathless laugh escapes him. Immediately, he feels Yungy try to push him off.
Abandoning him for a second, Flow gets up, cracking his neck and rolling his shoulders. "Stay where you are, Yungy. You deserve this and you know it." His fingers wrap around the beaten edges of the shield as he picks it up. In the dull reflection, he sees his broken horn spark a few more times.
Of course, Yungy doesn't listen to him. He's crawling back, teeth gritted in agony and a look on his face that's pure survival. That is a look Flow likes to see.
One slam of the shield to his chest dazes Yungy enough for him to kneel atop him again. His nails are digging grooves in the wood of the shield. Each breath in and out feels heavy—he supposes for them both. Slowly, he raises the shield above his head. The item feels both heavy as a mace and light as a feather. Isn't it iconic how he uses protection as a weapon? His lips split into a wild grin.
Did they want him this violent? Did they stir up Yungy to disable him on purpose? They wanted a beast. They'll get one. He's not sure if Yungy's terror confirms or denies it. The hand raised to shield his face from what's about to come is shaking, but really, he already knows he stands no chance.
Everything else went by slowly compared to this. With a ragged breath out, he brings the shield down once. Twice. Thrice. Yungy stops struggling after the third one. It's horrifying how the sounds don't even register in his mind. He recognises them, sure, but the cracks and splattering don't mean anything when all he can focus on is how to drive that damn shield into his opponent's head.
The body disappears in a puff of smoke and a shower of items. He crashes to his knees. Oh. He did it. A wheeze of a laugh rips from his lips. He lets the bloodied shield drop into the grass, and he only feels the buzz of the comm around his wrist when he lets his arms fall to his side. He did it. His head feels light. All the fight finally leaves him.
"What is your problem, Flow?"
Someone grabs him by the front of his armour and drags him to his feet. He needs a moment before he can recognise Mugm. He needs another to realise Mugm is holding a sword and is ready to use it where Flow's weapon is abandoned on the grass. Apparently, he takes too long to let the situation sink in, because he's shaken by the shoulders. Mugm stares at him like he's gone insane.
"Why did you do that?" Mugm shakes him some more, then looks at the bloody scene left behind with such horror he has to swallow down the bile in his throat. Flow can only imagine how disgusting the whole thing must look. "Why would you murder him like—like that? Flow!"
His hands are painted in blood. He sees drops discolour the grass underneath him. They're shaking too; he must've held that shield like his life depended on it.
"Flowtives! If you don't start talking, I'll take his heart back right now!"
He's being threatened. He knows he is, and yet all he can do is stare at Mugm's angry face with indifference. His mind is going elsewhere entirely. Yungy is dead. He killed Yungy as revenge, because … because his horn is gone. Finally, he feels the full extent of the severing of his horn. The ache that feels bone-deep. A shaky breath escapes him as a shudder runs through his whole body, an electric current setting everything under his skin on fire.
But he does see it when Mugm's grip on the sword shifts and tightens. His own body, too trained not to, works without thinking. Before either of them can blink, Flow rips Mugm's hand off and sets his teeth into it. There's screaming. A fist connects with his cheek. He lets go with a growl, if only to see the horror in the other's wide eyes.
Then he does possibly the dumbest thing. While they're still face to face and not trading blows with their swords, he does the first thing that comes to mind—his unthinking, working-on-autopilot mind. With lightning speed, he grabs at Mugm, nails scratching over his helmet as he grabs his head, and knocks his forehead into Mugm's full force.
White hot pain flashes through him. He stumbles back. A choked gasp tears from his lungs. For a second, he sees absolutely nothing. He's trying to stay upright but his whole world is twisting, everything twists around the source of pain, his horn throbbing with agony like his skull is splitting in two.
By the time he's able to see again, see past the pain and see past the blur, his eyes catch a dazed Mugm being held by Squid. Minute is there too, seemingly having just arrived at the scene. The guy gives Mugm one look before he's walking over to Flow himself. A hand is outstretched. Flow stares at it, all his nerves setting on fire all over again. The stump on his forehead sparks violently, pinks and purples so bright they reflect on Minute's armour.
In the face of this new threat, he crawls back. He can't even remember falling to the ground. Baring his teeth, he searches around with his hand for the bloody shield or maybe the sword he'd abandoned earlier. All he finds is grass. Everything hurts. He's shaking all over. When Minute attacks, he won't be able to fight back.
"— on your side, Flow!" Minute's words finally make it over the ringing in his ears. "I'm not going to attack you, I'm trying to help!"
But can he really trust him? Can he really?
Minute squats down in front of him and he's not getting any closer. It really does look like he means what he says. Flow feels how Minute's eyes drag over him, looking for every injury before they settle on his broken horn with a wince.
"That looks painful. Do you wanna tell me what happened?"
An answer forms in his mind but they refuse to come out before the doubts creep right back in. Minute is one of the owners and admins. Flow just brutally murdered one of his friends. This can only mean he's here to get him, to get revenge, or maybe he's here to ban him the second he confesses.
It wasn't his fault. Yungy hurt him. It wasn't Flow's fault. It wasn't.
He pounces on Minute. At this point, it isn't about getting revenge anymore. Attacking Mugm and Minute is about keeping himself safe. They've hurt him enough.
There's no thought behind the fist he launches at Minute's face. He cuts off a "Flow—!" with it. But he did this to himself. Minute came to him first. If he didn't want to get hurt, he shouldn't have gotten into a fight. Flow uses the momentary stun to grab at and drag the helmet off his opponent's head. Just like with the shield, he raises the armour above his head like a weapon. This too has some awful edges if he uses it in the right way.
He gets dragged off Minute before he can attack Minute with it. The helmet is pried from his fingers and any retaliation is met with simply holding him tighter. He's yelling; that's something he only notices when he's cut off with a hand over his mouth. This time, he can't bite down on it. The hand is armoured, meaning it can only be Squid who's holding him. Flow thrashes in his grip.
Squid would only have to move his arm a little to cut off his air. The mere idea gets him into a proper frenzy. But he can't move. Squid has him locked in a grip and Mugm is jogging over to help. Distantly, he can recognise his own begging. He kicks at Mugm when he comes too close but it does nothing.
And then they just … stop.
Mugm steps back. Squid eases his grip on him before he also moves away. Flow stumbles away from them both. His fists are up in the air, just in case they're looking for a proper fight. But they're not even looking at him. Even Minute, who's stood up again and is rubbing his sore jaw with a hand, looks up at someone else.
Flow follows their gaze and oh, he could cry. SB is jogging up to the scene, armourless, eyes scanning over everyone. A look of understanding dawns on him. Then one of sympathy as he finds Flow.
"Are you okay?"
That's enough to kick Flow back into moving again for the last time. He's running, half stumbling, until he can crash into SB. He's not sure why or when he started thinking of SB as his safe space, but he does, and he wraps his arms around him as tightly as he can. This is where he's safe. This is where he'll be protected. He buries his face in the other's shoulder, hiding himself from the world.
"Uncle—" is all he manages before his throat clogs up with an ugly sob. His horn hurts too much. He's pretty sure it stabs into SB's shoulder, but he hasn't mentioned it nor moved away so Flow stays right where he is. He sags to his knees and his uncle follows, holding him protectively before he can break apart from shaking.
"I know," is whispered to him. A hand gently takes his helmet off, then the warm hand settles on the back of his head. Flow shrinks in on himself a little more. "I know."
From his inventory, he finds the broken horn and he carefully pushes it into SB's other hand. Already, the bone has gone dull without any magic to keep it alive. Another sob rips from his throat. It's gone. It's really gone. His hand closes around the horn with the help of SB.
"Breathe, okay? I know it feels awful right now."
He listens, even if he feels more like choking than breathing. The man doesn't even tell him it'll get better. Maybe that would just make everything worse, Flow doesn't know. He's never felt an agony this deep into his heart before. He hates it with every fibre of being. But hate doesn't get the chance to bubble back up, because his chestplate is undone enough for it to be helped off his body. The loss of weight has him shaking with another sob, relief bleeding through. He can finally feel the arms wrapping around him to keep him safe.
"I'm sorry, Flow." A hand rubs up gently and down his spine and Flow's tail thumps against the grass weakly. "I'm so sorry. I've got you now, yeah? Do you want to go back to the base?"
It would be nice to get away from all the prying eyes. None of his arms or legs are ready to move though. They're heavy as lead, simply keeping him stuck to the ground and to SB while he's still there. He'd very much like to stay. He'd like to stay with his uncle and not think about anything.
"That's okay. I'm right here."
He'll be safe. SB will make sure of it. The second that realisation passes through him, his mind finally gives up on him. He slumps against the other, unable to keep his eyes from falling shut, and he's out like a light.