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1
Tight.
There's a tight feeling on his wrists, arms, and legs—scratch that, it was all over his body.
Jude couldn't even feel the cold, hard quartz floor of his base; he knew it was rigged with traps from his entrance to his storage, but they always required a puller; they had never self-activated on him before.
Jude was never this careless.
He tugged, and the tightness around his body resisted as he fought against it. It coiled around him further but not enough to cut blood flow. He felt his communicator buzzing with unread messages, but couldn't reach it.
A breath left Jude as he hung loosely, looking at the marks digging into his skin caused by the invisible boundaries.
His ear flicked up. A voice, muffled, roughened at the edges like it was straining not to sound scared.
“Jude!” The voice took a minute to identify. Rough. Bratty. Immature. Perhaps Tai?
It sounded like Tai. Or the idea of Tai.
Jude raised his head, calling out to Tai, louder than he intended. “Yeah, Tai?”
“Dude, calm down, I'm right next to you. No need to yell…”
Jude felt an oddly gentle touch on his shoulder; the pressure caused the boundaries to tighten further, but it didn't hurt in the slightest.
That's right, Tai probably needs something.
“Did you need something from me…?” Jude strained himself, like a quiet cry for help.
But it wasn't heard.
Tai seemingly smiled as he answered. “Just needed some turtle scutes and I'll be on my way.”
The touch from his shoulder was gone. And the tight grip around his body loosened ever so slightly.
Jude exhaled. This nightmare again…
Since Notch knows when, Jude had been having this nightmare. The one where his arms go nowhere. Where his legs just stop being his.
Chained. That's the word. Except he couldn't remember what for, or who put them there, or if "there" was even a direction anymore.
Aphrodite, maybe. Caught in Hephaestus's net, if he was remembering that story right. He wasn't sure he was.
He just knew he was caught. And that not knowing why was somehow worse than the chains themselves.
Maybe if he sleeps it off, he'll have a better day tomorrow.
Maybe Hoplite might solve the issue.
2
Jude logged into Hoplite, only to find that the tightening worsened.
His neck was wrapped by a hand, punishing him for even daring to take a breath, yet allowing just enough air to enter that he doesn't asphyxiate.
Jude had joined with DoomedCow and Parker, or at least, he thinks so.
Someone spoke, soft-edged, gentle. Parker, probably, or the voice of Parker he could somehow image. He couldn't remember if that was just how Parker sounded, or if he was filling in the blank himself.
Or was it Cow? Cow's voice usually had an edge to it, but everything sounded soft through this thick, wet, cottony muffled fog.
Before he could figure out who's who, the death match began, and it would be a while before players started murdering each other.
“I'm gonna change my name to something stupid.” Jude giggled, the tightness in his throat loosening so he could speak. He opened up his inventory and mindlessly stared into the empty spaces, his mind clouding.
“Go on, I'll make the flatground.” Cow said, running off to gather materials early.
Parker stayed behind, taking notice of Jude's pinned ears, alert to an unknown threat.
No, Jude has always been paranoid. His ears are normally like this when in Hoplite, surely.
“You okay, Jude?” Parker asked.
Jude blinked; how long had he been like this? He blinked again, voices coming back in pieces, slowly becoming less muffled. He blinked again, the sound of stone breaking filling his ears. He closed his eyes.
“Jude?”
It's Cow.
“Yeah?”
“The flatground is ready.”
Jude opened his eyes. It's Cow, with his stupid camouflage outfit and hat. Parker came into view seconds later, with his bright yellow jacket.
“You're out of it today,” Cow reached out, touching Jude's face. “Are you sure you wanna play?”
The tightening returned, around his throat. His voice came out hoarse. “I-I'm okay…”
Parker shrugged. “He's been like this since morning…”
Jude groaned, running his paw through his hair, ruffling it.
He heard voices again; Cow and Parker said they would bait, and that he could relax. Or did they say he would be the bait?
Jude shook his head, digging up the ladder and crawling down to the kill chamber, where he would remain for most of the round.
The death match was mostly uneventful; of course, Jude, Cow and Parker won through the use of traps.
The sound of the horns blaring was still muffled and wet; Jude slammed his paw against his head, trying to get the watery noise pollution out of his ears.
His throat tightened as Cow wrapped both him and Parker into a tight hug.
It was tight. Too tight.
But Jude held his hand up, making a playful expression as Parker took a selfie.
Maybe tomorrow, it will go away.
3
It did not go away.
Jude couldn't even get out of bed.
He was on his side, clutching at a large pillow like it was another person.
He wished it was.
He rolled onto his back, looking up at the darkened ceiling.
It's probably 2 am… Jude thought, eyes still heavy from sleep.
Water. He should get water.
Jude sat up, or tried to. Something in his chest disagreed. It wasn't sharp, nor painful; it tugged him back down by a thread he couldn't see, the same way it always did.
He tried again. One of his legs made it over the side of the bed. His body didn't.
Fine. Fine. He'd get it later.
He sank back into the mattress, and the tightening loosened, satisfied.
Maybe he could text someone…?
He reached for his communicator, just barely out of reach. It toppled into his mattress.
Great, he was worried he would have to pick it up.
Jude turned the communicator on and…
…
What?
He can't read it. The text is either blurred or smeared.
Sure, it's 2 am. But Jude has worked late nights. Surely he will be able to read.
He squinted, trying to decipher the impossible smeared text on the digital screen.
It's not worth it. He thought.
He dropped the communicator onto his mattress as he lay down. Eyes back up on the ceiling.
Maybe tomorrow, it will get better.
4
It did not get better.
It's…
Loud. Too loud.
Everyone was at spawn, ready to start a makeshift karaoke event.
As usual, every sound was muffled. Made even worse by the mixture of voices among the group.
Jude's ears perked up, trying to discern who was who.
There was a loud rock song playing over the speakers, which sounded like Evanescence. Matching a voice that was trying too hard to sound edgy.
Maybe it was Spongs; only Spongs could make a noise like that.
Someone cheered. Honeydew? Loppezz? Both, maybe. Their voices were so similar that they blurred together before he could tell.
Jude tried to focus on a single voice, just one, to anchor himself. He picked the loudest and tried to hold onto it like a lifeline. It slipped anyway.
A hand landed on his back, clapping along to the beat. He flinched. The tightening, in response, coiled once around his ribs before easing back, checking he was still there.
He forced a laugh, mostly on instinct. He wasn't sure what was funny at that time.
Jude's vision blurred, his world becoming nothing but shapes and colours dancing around his peripherals.
He clapped along anyway, hoping it was on beat.
Once more he tried to pick up a familiar voice.
Among the sea of voices, he heard a soft, innocent yet powerful voice.
He turned to its direction and reached out for it.
There was a rough grip on his wrist.
With what little energy he could muster, he looked up and saw blue and brown.
It spoke gently to him.
“Jude, you don’t look so good.” It brought their hand to Jude's forehead. “You look feverish.”
Bitzel's hand was still on his forehead. Warm. Grounding, almost.
Jude opened his mouth to say he was fine. He wasn't sure if his voice came out.
The colors around him started to bleed into each other, blue and brown swallowed up by everything else. He thought he heard his name.
His knees gave out, and his vision went dark soon after.
…
He slowly opened his eyes, the heaviness of an unknown duration of passed time pressing against his eyelids. Blinking several times, he fought to clear the fog that enveloped his sight and bring his surroundings into focus.
Gradually, a vivid green shape began to emerge, a lush fern plant, its delicate fronds unfurling gracefully towards the light, a splash of life in the midst of a blurred reality.
But just as clarity started to settle in, a wave of discomfort surged through him. The tightening sensation returned, an uncomfortable grip that coiled around his muscles, forcing him back against the soft confines of the bed, plunging him once more into a disheartening haze.
Despite the restraint, Jude felt the presence of another person.
No, his nose picked up the scent of multiple people. He tried to turn his head to see who, but his vision only ever gave him what was directly in front of him.
A narrow window, edged in black, like he was looking through a tube. Anything outside of it may as well not exist.
Their voices remained muffled and wet, but he recognized a few.
“Jude is hot to the touch.” Bitzel. Was it Bitzel speaking? He couldn't turn to check. He heard something being said.
“Health pots don't work on sick people, Bitzel.” The faded voice of what seemed to be Honeydew spoke up, her hand brushing against Jude's neck to feel for his temperature.
Somewhere past the edge of his narrow sight, he thought he heard the faint buzz of a communicator. Then another. Then nothing.
There were muffled sounds of a conversation being held. Perhaps he really was just sick.
The tightness coiled further around Jude's neck, arms, and legs. As he opened his mouth to speak, his jaws were forced shut by an invisible harness. He gagged, failing to speak.
HD seemed to take notice of Jude's distress; she gently ran her fingers through his hair, petting him to ease his tension.
“Shh… It's okay, Jude. Just relax.” The sound of her hushing failed to console him. “I'm sorry about the overwhelming karaoke.”
The fog remained. Bitzel's and HD's faces, what little he could see of them, stayed blurred. He never got to see who else was in the room with them, he only felt it, in the shift of weight on the mattress, in the smell of someone else's shampoo, just outside where the fog would let him look.
Jude turned to his side, covering himself in the blankets.
Maybe, if he was forced to rest, it would leave.
5
The fog hadn't left.
It's been almost a week.
Jude was still in his house, stuck to the confines of his bed, the dark dome of his vision still allowing only a mere meter of distance to be viewed.
It's pathetic, how the trapper remained in his bed, rotting in this state.
Has anyone noticed?
How he had disappeared so quietly?
How he had silently clocked himself out of every interaction mentally?
How silly of him. He should be working.
Traps. His traps needed checking.
Sharpness or Flowtives could've triggered one by now, and if they had, that would be something.
That was enough. That would have to be enough.
He could afford to go outside.
He tugged against the invisible ropes. Which were burning painfully due to non-existent friction.
Jude shoved his hands behind him and pushed forward, forcing himself against the tightness trying to restrain him.
He groaned, and eventually felt it come loose. He tumbled out of bed.
“Shit!” His shoulder hit the nightstand on the way down. A pouch of redstone dust burst open above him, raining down in a fine red cloud.
He laid down for a second, blinking dust out of his lashes. Didn't even have it in him to be surprised.
His nose twitched. He sneezed, swatting weakly at the cloud still hanging in the air around him.
There goes his redstone for the day.
Tears silently left him as he stood up, he needed to gather the dust again.
Does he have more in his storage? Does his villagers have any access to redstone?
Why can't he remember?
Jude rubbed his head, his other hand tracing the walls to retrace the layout of his home.
His hands felt the corner. It's his main hall. If he reached just a few meters to the left, he could reach the wall leading down to the trading hall.
In his main hall, he heard the muffled noises.
It's getting worse.
He knows they're the worried Strength members, but now, all their voices have the same, robotic sound, muffled and quieted by the fog.
He felt his ears pin back as he whimpered, taking one small step forward.
One, two. Three more and he might be able to feel the corner into the trading hall.
Wait— why can't he hear his villagers?
He should be able to. They make so much noise.
No.
Jude stopped, looking at the only visible place, his floor.
There was a red carpet and just in the corner of his eye, he spotted a wooden floor, oak. That's his trading hall.
He wandered inside until he reached out to feel each trading station.
Brewing stand, he just needs to find a brewing stand.
He felt each block, lectern, blast furnace, smithing table. Until he eventually felt a long, thin, stick. The brewing stand.
He felt a tight grip on his chest. His breath came quick and shallow, but it didn't feel like enough. He gasped for more air. It didn't help.
The narrow window of his sight began to shrink further, the black edges creeping inward until even the brewing stand in front of him started to blur at its outline.
Floor. Where's the floor? He needed the floor.
His knees found it before his mind caught up, the impact barely registering through everything else screaming louder.
The muffled noise from the main hall turned to static, a high, thin ringing underneath it that hadn't been there before. He couldn't tell anymore if the villagers were making noise or if that had always been silent and he'd imagined the rest.
His hands wouldn't stay still. He pressed them flat against the trading table, just to feel something solid, something real, something that wasn't tightening or pulling or closing in.
It didn't help either.
Chained. That again. He felt it at the beginning of the week.
He tried to count. Three things. It's all he needs. He can handle it.
Floor. He saw the floor.
Table. His hands were on the table.
The third thing— fuck. What can he see?
He can't hear, everything is too muffled. He can't smell, his nose is stuffy after that sneezing fest. He can't eat yet, no appetite.
Jude curled forward over his own knees, arms wrapped around himself, and waited for something to loosen.
It's painful. It hurts.
+1
“Dude. Jude's been weird recently.”
Sharpness turned; it's not unusual that there would be gossip around Strength. But this gossip about Jude had an energy to it that sounded… off.
It was Loppez who mentioned it first, causing the other members to nod in agreement.
Godis walked up to her, holding his customised communicator in his hand, a text-to-speech app reading from a book.
"[It appears as though the maiden seemed concerned for the young, confused lad.]"
Tai chuckled. “I still need to get used to that stupid TTS, Godis.”
Loppez looked up, having heard a soft step. “Look who finally got out of bed!”
Sharpness followed where Loppez was looking, it was Jude, walking out of his bed in a daze, one hand on his chest, and the other on the wall.
His eyes were focused at empty air, which Tai found funny enough to giggle at.
“What the fuck—OUGH!” He was then quickly punched by Godis.
Sharpness stepped forward, pausing as he watched Jude trying to navigate the main hall by himself.
Jude reached a corner, with weak and slow steps, he slowly walked to the entrance of his trading hall.
“Is he sleepwalking?” Loppez asked quietly.
“[It cannot be. For his eyes are open.]” Godis's TTS read out flatly, the mismatch between the words and the moment making Tai snort again.
Sharpness didn't answer either of them. He was watching Jude's hand, it never left the wall, patting along the stone like he was reading it rather than touching it.
Jude's foot caught the doorframe. He didn't stumble so much as pause, correcting course by feeling alone.
“Okay, that's not normal,” Tai said, the laugh gone from his voice now.
“Jude?” Loppez called out. “You good?”
No answer. Jude kept walking, one hand still trailing the wall, the other pressed flat against his own chest.
“[He cannot not hear us,]” Godis's communicator said. Even in text-to-speech, it managed to sound uneasy.
Sharpness took a step closer, then stopped himself. Something about the way Jude moved felt careful, deliberate, blind.
“Jude,” he tried instead, keeping his voice low. “It's me, Sharpness. We're right here, man.”
Jude's steps faltered, just slightly, at the sound of his name. But he didn't turn.
“I don't think he heard that.” Loppez murmured.
Jude looked down. He stood there a moment, head bowed toward his own feet, like he was reading something off the floor.
“What's he doing now?” Tai whispered.
Jude's foot shifted, toeing the edge of the carpet checking where it ended. Then he stepped onto the wood beyond it, both feet planted before he moved again.
“The floor?” Loppez glanced down at the plain oak floor.
Nothing about it seemed worth that much attention.
Sharpness watched Jude's head tilt down, as if he the rabbit forgot how his own home looked like. He wasn't looking around the room at all. Just down. Just his own two feet and whatever was directly beneath them.
“I don't think…” Sharpness started, then stopped himself, unsure how to finish the sentence.
Jude reached the first trading station and stopped.
His hand found the lectern, then moved along its edge, slow, like he was checking every side of it.
“Maybe something's broken,” Loppez offered, not sounding convinced by her own guess. “Like— the lectern, or something?”
“[Perhaps a broken beam,]” Godis's TTS suggested. “[The young lad often complains of them.]”
Tai frowned. “He's never complained about that before.”
Jude moved to the next station, hands finding the blast furnace, running along its frame the same careful way. He didn't open it. He simply touched the top edge, and moved on.
If something was broken, he'd look at it, inspect it, or try to fix it. Jude was meticulous about his items, given he's a trapper.
But he wasn't doing any of that. He was feeling his way along, one station to the next.
“Maybe he's tired,” Loppez laughed it off. “He's doing it on autopilot.”
Jude reached the smithing table, then paused at a long, thin shape to his left, the brewing stand.
His hand closed around it.
He remained there for a second. And the next, he tumbled, knees buckling as he bent down, hands weakly remaining on the brewing stand.
Sharpness, Loppez, Godis and Tai froze, confused at the suddenness of Jude keeling over.
Sharpness was the first to act, dashing forward as he heard Jude whisper quietly to himself in between quiet weeping.
“3.14…15…9…”
Was he reciting the digits of pi? Whatever, now was not the time for that.
Sharpness pressed his hand against Jude's shoulder. It was shivering like he was in the cold. Jude's rabbit ears were pinned back, perceiving an unseen threat as he continued to recite more numbers.
“Jude.” Sharpness kept his voice low, steady. “I'm right here. You don't have to keep counting.”
Jude didn't stop. If anything, he recited much faster.
Loppez knelt on his other side, trying not to touch him. “What do we do?” she asked, not really to anyone.
Godis's communicator stayed silent. Tai, who hadn't said anything in a while, walked outside.
“I'll call Parker.” He called, and he left.
Out of sheer awkwardness, Godis and Loppez followed suit, telling Sharpness to remain where he was as they left to get help.
Sharpness's focus remained on Jude, who was still counting.
“…7.” Jude took a shaky breath. “…9.”
Sharpness didn't move his hand. “You're doing good, Jude. Just breathe.”
Jude's reciting eventually turned to useless crying, his head bowed until it and his long ears touched the floor.
Sharpness continued to rub his hand on Jude's shoulder.
“…Hey, Jude. It's okay…”
Sharpness felt the rabbit shivering under his touch. In any other situation, he would tease Jude for overreacting, but now, Jude needs him.
They may be ex-teammates, but Sharpness isn't an asshole.
The rabbit remained balled on the floor, still trying to recite numbers. Sharpness remained where he was, leaning over Jude and pressing his entire torso onto him, hoping the weight would put some ease onto Jude.
It worked, somewhat.
“…Sharpness…?” Jude's voice croaked, he slowly sat up, Sharpness leaned back to give him space.
“Yes, Jude. It's me.” Sharpness reassured him, holding his hand as he watched Jude's eyes scan him, as if he didn't believe he was real. “I'm here.”
Jude's breathing remained heavy and uneven, his eyes were red and puffy from the crying, and he was still shivering, but at least now, he was looking directly at Sharpness.
At his eyes.
His magenta eyes were dull, glassy.
Sharpness gently brushed a finger to Jude's hair. “Jude… Is everything okay?”
Jude quietly shook his head.
“It's okay, then.” Sharpness wrapped his arms around Jude, gently pulling him into a hug, Jude didn't resist, and held Sharpness tightly. “I'm here, and I won't go anywhere.”
Jude's ears flopped low, his breathing slowing as he tried to ask. “I can stay quiet, right?”
Sharpness sighed. “…Shh… Don't say anything, just close your eyes.”
Sharpness brought Jude's head to his chest, hoping he could feel his slow beating heart, and follow its rhythm.
Slowly, Jude's breathing eased up, and his sniffling ceased. He continued to lean into Sharpness's chest, nuzzling into it as he exhaled and apologized quietly.
“Just stay here for now,” Sharpness whispered, running his hand through Jude's hair. “The world will still be here when you're wide awake.”