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“I think that might be a bit of a futile effort.”
Wemmbu hated that he said that. That he killed all those innocent people. But it was done. It happened and nothing would change it now.
He didn’t feel excitement during the fight that followed. He acted as though he did. But he didn’t. He just felt as though he was going through the motions.
Mace. Potion. Fly. Quip. Joke. Nuke. Stab shot. Fly. Mace. Repeat. Repeat the cycle that had been carved into grooves in his mind like that of a record playing on loop. It didn’t stop. It didn’t differentiate. Not until something forced him out of the loop.
Wemmbu was running low on rockets. That was what forced him to the ground long enough that Flame got a minecart hit in. It hit his wings the hardest, tearing holes in the membrane of the elytra.
The worst part being that when it was equipped, the wings were a part of him, like a second pair of limbs. So he could feel them ripping apart. He screamed.
The cart had knocked him to the ground, but the searing pain kept him there. It was horrible. He wanted nothing more than to curl up and die.
But of course, the universe wasn’t so kind to him. It never has been. The pain continued. Some of the soldiers that were left had come over to kick him while he’s down. Literally.
They stabbed him, slashed him, kicked the wounds, ground the heels of their boots into his wings. He shrieked in pure unfiltered agony. A shrill, ear splitting, animalistic sound that even made them pause for a moment. Then they continued.
He shrieked, screamed, cried out, making instinctive sounds of pure terror and pain. He didn’t know at what point he started crying.
Then, abruptly, the blows ceased. Gone. Someone above him yelled, but he couldn’t make out the words. His… everything hurt too much for him to even try.
He could feel the thuds through the ground of bodies dropping. He could smell smoke and the distinct scent of burning flesh. He couldn’t see much except for dull splotches of color. His thoughts felt sluggish.
…they must have hit his head at some point.
It was quiet now. No yelling, no apparent sounds of battle. Was the fight over? That would be nice. He could go back, see Jaden and Egg.
...void, he missed Egg. Everything would feel a lot better with Egg.
Someone touched his neck. Feeling for a pulse, he thought belatedly. If he was still thinking, it must still be going. That’s probably a good thing.
His breaths felt shallow. Empty. There, but also not. They were raspy and dull. Each inhale hurt. Quietly, he thought that his assailants might have broken his ribs. That’s probably a bad thing.
Wemmbu could hear someone, two someone’s.
…three someones.
They were talking above his head. The voices were fuzzy. Muffled. Like he was hearing them through a barrier or through water.
Was he drowning?
Someone snapped in front of his face and he blinked slowly at the hand. It moved away. It returned with a bottle. It pressed it to his lips. He didn’t trust it.
His lips were pressed into a thin line, his eyes squeezed shut, and his ears pinned back. He didn’t want the potion. What if it was poison? Or weakness? He hated weakness potions.
What? Too weak to stand? You should have thought of that before you murdered a thousand innocents.
He made a small instinctive whine. Like an enderian child fussing over eating their chorus fruit. It tasted absolutely vile, but it was (apparently) good for End born creature’s development. Horrible.
The potion was pulled away. Wemmbu cracked an eye open to see boots in front of him. They had red and yellow straps. He sluggishly realized they were Flame’s. Huh. Weird. Weren’t they enemies?
Thinking was hard. Like he was dragging himself through a pit of tar with each slow thought. It felt like he was going along at a snail's pace.
He still couldn’t quite hear. He knew words were being said, but he couldn’t make out actual words or even tones. Just muffled noise that differed from everything else.
He was cold. He shivered, drawing in on himself, then whimpering when the pain intensified at the movement. His corset felt way too tight on his abdomen. His decorative choker felt like it was actually choking him.
Everything hurt and he wanted to go home, except he didn’t really have a home. He wanted to hug Egg, or go fishing with Jaden and Codmaster. Void, he’d even take Yungy at this point. Anyone he even felt slightly comfortable around. (Maybe Minute? Minute was nice. He understood Wemmbu’s sounds.)
He realized slowly that he was crying again. The tears irritated the cuts on his cheeks, which only made him cry harder. He sobbed and keened, desperate for any semblance of comfort.
He hadn’t had that in so long.
Someone sat next to him. They, as gently as they could, repositioned his head into their lap. His breath hitched. They were very warm. He unconsciously moved towards the warmth.
They stroked his head fur and said quiet things to him. He could make out the tone. Calming. Gentle. Comforting.
He made a low rumbling sound. Something akin to the purring of a cat. A hand came up once again, gently pressing a bottle to his lips. He trusted it this time. He opened and the bittersweet taste of health and regeneration potions washed over his tongue.
He grimaced. Ew. But he drank it. Soon, he felt most of the smaller cuts closing. The pain lessened. His head didn’t feel any different, however.
…that’s probably bad.
He could make out actual words now, though.
“…got beaten up bad, gods.”
“…eyes were unfocused… concussion, likely.”
“…still killed… innocent! He deserves to…”
“…beaten out of him, Theo. He… Arachnid made… not his choice.”
Wemmbu whined at Arachnid’s name. He hated him. So much. Almost as much as Lettuce when he let Wemmbu get tortu-
The voices went quiet.
“…think he… hear us now? Wemmbu? Can you hear us?”
He whined again. The voice belonged to the person holding him. Flame, Wemmbu assumed. (But you know what they say about assuming.)
“Shoot, okay. You- you’re good, alright? I mean, you’re not exactly fine, but you- you’re gonna be okay. Yeah?” Flame kept stroking Wemmbu’s head and he leaned into the touch. That was nice. Gentle.
How long had it been since someone was gentle with him?
“Parrot, you’re smart, what do you do when someone has a concussion?” Flame asked concernedly. That felt weird. Hearing Flame sound concerned. Especially about him.
“Keep him talking, ask him questions, don’t let him fall asleep.” One of the other voices, Parrot it seemed, supplied helpfully. “If he can’t talk, just keep him engaged and awake.”
“Okay. For how long?”
“Until his wounds are under control, then he should be fine.”
“Alright, bro. Um… hey, Wemmbu? Remember at my old base when we took a break from fighting and I showed you my dogs?”
Wemmbu gave a small hum that Flame took as an affirmation.
“Ashen really liked you for some reason. Like, more than me, which is so unfair. Bro, like, I’m his actual owner! How come he liked you better than me?”
Wemmbu smiled a little. Someone gently took his arm and wrapped it with bandages. He barely felt it.
“Also, what on earth do you see in Jaden, bro? Like, he’s a fish, dude. A fish. And an annoying one at that. And he’s like, one of your closest friends now? Come on, you could do so much better.”
Wemmbu let out a derisive snort, then winced as it flared pain in his chest. Someone cautiously removed his corset. That was nice. He could breathe better.
“I remember one time, you came to my base in the middle of the night, and at first, I thought you wanted a duel. But we just ended up talking. That was really nice. Do you remember that?”
Wemmbu nodded. His arms and legs had been bandaged. A hand brushed his wing and he whined. Flame kept stroking his head and his tail curled around Wemmbu’s. That was nice.
“Hey, do you think you can unequip your elytra? Then we could fix it and it wouldn’t hurt you?”
Wemmbu hesitated, then opened his palm. In an instant, the wings flickered out of existence and the elytra item appeared in his hand. Someone took it.
More words were quietly exchanged above him. He didn’t catch them. Then Flame scratched behind his ear and he melted.
“You can sleep now. Rest.”
Wemmbu’s eyes slipped shut and he drifted into a deep, dreamless sleep.