Work Text:
Wemmbu was sprawled out on his bed, trapped in that perfect state before waking up where you aren't quite asleep, but not quite awake either. He let out a small noise, nuzzling his head further into the soft pillow. He felt... warm? It was unusual; Wemmbu was an End demon, and End demons did not feel warmth. But he chose to ignore that factor for the time being. He was far too comfortable to care, and he still probably had ten minutes before Egg came and forced him to get up. This was already starting to be a perfect day.
He let out a small, victorious smile and stretched his legs out, letting himself enjoy the way it relieved his tense muscles and cracked his hips. As he released the stretch, however, Wemmbu realised his ankles were hanging completely off the mattress. Had he gotten taller? That wouldn't be ideal for his elytra mace technique. He needed to be as aerodynamic as possible for that.
He finally cracked his eyes open, sitting up and dragging a hand over his face. It took a few sleep-heavy blinks to realise he wasn't in his own bedroom. Then his hand caught on something unexpected; long, textured dreads. He stared down at his arms. His skin colour was entirely wrong. Wemmbu was purple. He is purple. This skin is not purple.
Um, what?
Wemmbu practically flew off the bed - an ironic feat, considering he no longer had his wings—and stumbled in front of the mirror, managing trip over air countless times. His entire body went through an extreme series of emotions all at once. He gagged, folding over and covering his mouth as he stared desperately at the reflection. At his body. Or, well... FlameFrags' body.
This couldnt be real. No, like, seriously. This could not be real. Crazy shit happens on the server all the time but- but not this! People didn't - do whatever is happening now! Is Flame in his body? Oh, god, he really hopes not.
Wemmbu began to pace, panting heavily - not from exertion, but from what could only be described as terror. Pure, unadulterated, terror. What the fuck? What could he do? How can he fix this? He needs to find someone - Literally anyone. Parrot, maybe? That guy was smart! And- and he used to run a potion shop! Yes. Yeah. Wemmbu needed to find Parrot. Or Egg. Someone smart.
Wemmbu looked down at his - was it his? - body once again - mapping it out. He looked at his arms in confusion - the same arms that had swung Fragger at him. The same arms that had punched and beat him to the ground countless times. Maybe he should go and lose a fight to a bunch of Chungies and destroy Flame's reputation as revenge. Wemmbu let out a small giggle - but reality set in once again as his giggle was dwarfed - changed into some weird, ugly chuckle by Flame's weird, ugly vocal cords. Fuck. This was really bad, wasnt it? He didnt hate Flame per se, but if he had the choice to switch bodies with someone Flame might actually be last on his list. Wemmbu would actually rather switch with Lettuce.
Okay. Okay. Its okay. Hes not dead. Hes alive. He needs to take deep breaths.
Wemmbu sits on the edge of Flame's bed - calming himself down, closing his eyes, working on keeping his heartrate from not skyrocketing so high he drops dead. He focuses on the sensations in Flames body - how warm he was, the unfamiliar feeling of Flame's dreads laying over his shoulders. Wemmbu re-opens his eyes, and properly takes a look at his surroundings. The room is a decently sized room, the bed facing away from the door, the window above the bed. He sighs, standing up and attempting to get used to how unbalanced he felt without his wings. Luckily, Flame still had a tail, thanks to his tiger hybrid side, so the wavering balance wasnt extremely bad. He just felt... big. Like, oversized. Flame had much more visible muscle than him - helpful for wielding his heavy sword, whereas Wemmbu - in his actual body - was much leaner, needing to stay fast in the air, and he holds most of his muscle in his legs to absorb the impact of any missed maces. Flame was the opposite.
Wemmbu takes a few steps further into the room, his hips and legs swaying side to side uncertainly. His eyes lock onto a chest of drawers opposite Flame's bed, and makes quick work of getting over there and ripping a drawer open - aggressively rummaging through the odd assortment Flame had in there - It was full of clothes, which was normal, but also full of some weird... action figures? Damn, he didn't take Flame for a nerd. He snorted, chucking the figures behind him carelessly.
One of them hit the wooden floor with a sharp clack before tumbling under the bed. Wemmbu stared down at his—no, Flame's—hand, flexing the thick, dark fingers. Flames nails were clawed, but they were curved and dull in a way that made Wemmbu realise that Flame probably filed them recently. Everything about this body felt wrong. Like blasphemy or something. When Wemmbu moved his own regular hands, it was like slicing through air. But Flame just felt bulky and uncoordinated. Like something was missing.
He dug deeper into the drawer, scoffing at Flame's signature fire hoodie. Cocky, much? Did everything in Flame's life have to be surrounded by his signature Flame trademark?
Maybe thats why Wemmbu couldn't fit in Flame's life. They were too opposite. Literally hot and cold. He couldn't really hate Flame for betraying him after the Two versuses One Thousand law fight. It was bound to happen. They could never be friends.
Anyways, he was looking for a communicator. If he could just find Flame's, he could check the coordinates. He could see if anyone had messaged. He could see if Flame had messaged.
But there was no sleek plastic or metallic glint of a communicator anywhere in the mess. Just more and more stupid fucking hoodies that smelled faintly of smoke and burnt bark.
Disappointed, Wemmbu let out a low, gravely huff and closed the drawer. The sudden noise of wood slamming against wood made him flinch. He was way too jumpy. If he encountered a single player - or worse, some weird enemy Flame had made on one of his side quests - Wemmbu might just die. He wasnt that good at sword PVP in the first place, let alone in an entirely new body! Wait, would Wemmbu die, or would Flame die? Would they both die? Wemmbu still had many questions, but now reallly wasnt the time to be thinking about them. He needed to find Parrot. Like, desperately. If he couldn't go outside as Flamefrags.. Maybe he could find a disguise? But thats assuming Flame owned any other clothes that arent hoodies and sweatpants. And that was starting to seem unlikely, as he looked at the floor, which had now become a mess of black fabric and Flame's unexpected action figures.