Chapter Text
Loss was a devastating thing. This was a known fact of life. Further known to those who fought in conflicts. Even more so to those who did that, and had the unfortunate fate of being in the Unstable SMP.
Material loss couldn’t compare– not to the loss of a life. The loss of someone who had kept you company, understood you, appreciated you, depended on you.
It was always clear who knew loss and who didn’t. The jaded look of a player with a patch of grey hair, the flinch at an outreached hand, the tensing under a friendly gesture, it was always all too clear.
Many people never escaped the limbo that came following a loss. These people didn’t survive.
On the Unstable SMP, there were many server specific features that couldn’t be found anywhere else. Soulmates were not an uncommon thing in servers. The concept of loss was not rare in any way. What one might call ‘server specific’ about soulmates on the server, was the drastic, dramatic actions that the players took at the loss of a soulmate.
Cities would be levelled and citizens slaughtered. Endlessly long battles and futile wars would be waged. Many times, the bystanders seemed to be unsure if the perpetrator wished to live, or wished to follow their soulmate to the afterlife. Or perhaps they knew, but feared that acknowledgement meant facing that they could very well one day be in their shoes. Fear was just as common as loss.
A bright, royal yellow collection of approximately 143 strands of hair signaled a romantic soulmate. 143 for each romantic bond. A cooling blue of the same amount of strands represented platonic bonds. 143 grey strands represented devastating loss.
Grey wasn’t an uncommon color, by any means. It was the color of the sky at times, a point in a monochrome scale, the color of smoke, as well as the color of eyes and hair.
Wemmbu was lucky– or at least, many people that he knew would consider him as such. Publicly, Wemmbu would grin and boast that he would never allow such a thing to happen. Privately, Eggchan would never hear the end of his complaints. In his kind opinion, losing someone who wasn’t a soulmate could be just as painful as losing someone who was. Eggchan claimed that he wasn’t qualified to be saying this. Wemmbu narrowed his eyes and said he was. Neither bothered to confront the fact that Eggchan was evidently in the right, given that this was commonplace.
It was a bit poetic, he supposed. Wemmbu had a full head of vibrant, glowing hair that was spoiled with an unnecessarily long routine. Eggchan had the same, but without the hair care. A few notable members of the server shared the same, but unfortunately, many did not.
Parrot was a glowing example of this. Wemmbu found it a bit sad, really. In a morbid way that was simultaneously slightly hilarious to him. Parrot’s hair was a plethora of blue and green, with uneven strands of red and teal poking out of his hair. But despite the beauty, your eyes would inevitably be dragged to the graveyard of grey that surrounded Parrot’s face.
Wemmbu admired him, in an odd way. Despite all his losses, he still managed to pick himself up and carry on for the sake of himself, and the ones that he still had. Wemmbu couldn’t help but imagine what he would do with himself when the last strand of royal blue fell grey.
“Bro.” Wemmbu’s vacant eyes quickly returned to their gleamed state as he glanced up at Eggchan, who was seated with his right leg thrown over his left. The seraphim narrowed his eyes. Wemmbu couldn’t exactly see the action past the white stacked with a thin layer of blue with a sliver of black in the middle, but he had a feeling that the being had done such an action.
“I’ve been staring at you for the past ten minutes. What’s up with you, bro? No way you’re getting restless already.” Eggchan closed his leatherbound notebook and uncrossed his legs, staring at Wemmbu. The dragon hybrid averts his eyes and clicks his tongue.
“It’s nothing, bro. I was just thinking about little King Parrot and what he could be up to.” Wemmbu replied smoothly. Eggchan was silent for a moment before humming.
“Pretty sure he’s in the Underworld. Or maybe that was Spoke, dunno.” Eggchan mentions offhandedly. Wemmbu nods thoughtlessly as he pulls the rest of his consciousness out of his previous thoughts. It takes him a few seconds to process what Eggchan said; and the second he does, his head flicks up and he stares at Eggchan— astounded.
“Yo. What?” He glances away from Eggchan as if making eye contact with an invisible camera, before his eyes dart back, “are we serious right now, bro?” He cocks an eyebrow up. He doesn’t typically doubt Eggchan’s odd plethora of information— accepting the flimsy excuse of a ‘scholarly collection’ that provided him with a certain amount of information.
But this wasn’t just a set of coordinates to a player base. This was information of someone in an unexplored dimension.
Wemmbu stared at Eggchan’s calm, unbothered stature for a moment longer before his posture dropped, and the dragon hybrid blindly brought a hand up to his face and dragged it down his face until his fingertips stopped at the middle of his top lip.
"Of course I'm serious... what reason would I have to lie, yo." Eggchan shifted in his seat, pressing his upper back firmly against the wooden stairs. He then proceeded to slump slightly, pretending it was more comfortable than it was.
Wemmbu held that same position for a few moments longer, his eyes firmly shut with dark purple eyelashes spanning out, casting thin shadows under his eyes.
He opened them in a flick-- not unlike the sudden spread of wings.
"...So how did they get there, bro." He said after a moment. Eggchan tilted his head slowly.
"Why do you assume that I know that." He stated dumbly. Wemmbu stared before pressing his lips into a thin line.
"Don't play these games, Egg..." He muttered following a thin sigh. The seraphim hummed, leaning back further into his chair as if he intended to mold himself into it.
"Well. I didn't ask for an explanation when they told me where they were. Just asked for an update." Eggchan shifted, now leaning forward and pulling his legs up before crossing them on the thin space of the chair. His hands rested on his ankles. He rocked back for a moment before leaning out farther, looking up at Wemmbu.
"No matter anyways, bro. Whoever it is will escape. Probably."
Parrot did not have anything with even the slightest resemblance to an idea in his mind.
Looking out at the grey wasteland that seemed to span out as far as his render distance was set, Parrot felt a part of him deflate.
He didn't know what it was exactly. A part of him was exhausted. Not always, but often enough in the times it mattered most to the point where Parrot considered giving up, sometimes.
But, turning himself and looking out at the rough number of two hundred people previously imprisoned by Clownpierce, Parrot felt a bit of that hope rejuvinate.
Not because of the fact that he had saved them, sadly. But because part of Parrot was selfish.
He wished that he was happy with the simple fact that he had helped so many people– but so many other things weighed down on him. Parrot bit a small portion of his cheek before glancing away from all of the people breaking boats to look up into the black abyss of this strange place.
The simple truth of it all was undeniable. Parrot was happy because he had people around him. Having people around him… meant that there were people to take risks for him. People he didn’t truly care about. And, as long as he kept it that way, he wouldn’t get hurt at all during this.
Part of him was disgusted with himself. He had settled with this fact long ago– that no matter what he did, some part of himself or some faces he knew would always be disappointed. Parrot stopped caring, but that never stopped the pain from seeping in.
He looked down, his eyes sweeping across the people holding boats in their main hand while looking around or talking with others. He stared particularly long at someone with dark brown hair and a blue bandana tied on their head. Before he could get too far gone in his own torturous thoughts, an exclamation pulled him out and demanded his attention.
Jerking his shoulder into spinning him around, he quickly observed the situation. Seven people were grouped around a small bump of a layered part of the landscape. Three of them were bunched around what looked to be a block, their fists working to break it, while the other four spoke loudly about it. Parrot narrowed his eyes before walking towards them, not wanting to make assumptions without having more knowledge.
People spread around him to make a clear path. Parrot didn’t question it, simply walking up to the middle circle and peeking over one of their shoulders. It was a soul sand block. He stared for a second longer, before his eyebrows furrowed in confusion.
It was a soul sand block that wasn’t breaking. With three different people bunching it continuously. Parrot took a step back, a light coat of dread slowly began to cover him as more startled exclamations erupted from other people. Countless people whipped back, staring at the others who had discovered the same as they had. Parrot looked down at the soul sand block as the seven around him turned away, walking back towards the bigger group.
He stared down at the block and debated whether or not he should punch it. Doing so and getting the same result the others had would solidify what the others had already realized. Parrot swallowed, his tongue feeling unusually heavy in his mouth, before turning and looking at the others.
It felt more like watching a bunch of headless children than grown players. Many of them looked far older than him. People who ran to the nether to avoid debt and death in the overworld. People who truly believed that they could work their way out of the hell they were previously trapped in. Then, there was a far smaller percentage of players who seemed to be around Parrot’s age, if not younger. Foolish people, because no one on Unstable got the freedom to be called a child, who had unknowingly imprisoned themself in the only place they would know for the rest of their life.
Parrot sighed, his eyes squeezing shut as his shoulders tensed. He opened his once dull eyes, the white iris now gleaming with a sheen of color. He shuffled through his hotbar quickly before his hand landed on a collection of netherrack. It would do. He walked himself to the middle of the crowd, lightly shoving to make space for himself before jumping and towering up by two. Many near him glanced up, but aside from that, no one paid him much of any attention.
“Prisoners!” Parrot rasped out, wincing internally at the hoarse sound of his voice. The reactions of a few prisoners didn’t make it any better– many flinching with their shoulders jolting up, their heads snapping toward him.
“Or, should I say, previous prisoners,” Parrot continued, his gaze sweeping across the players. Some stared at him with incomprehensible confusion in their faces. Some whispered. He didn’t pay much attention to them– at least, not right now.
“I’m going to make myself perfectly clear,” his right hand swept up, swinging from his side before clenching into a fist in front of his chest.
“I don’t know where we are. I don’t know what this place is, and judging by everyone’s reactions, no one else knows either,” he paused for a moment to see if anyone would disagree– to gauge the reactions in hopes that he would get a shred of information that he could work off of. There was nothing. So, he continued.
“But, despite that, we’re free.” Remind them of what they’d all already suceeded.
“Sure, this could be just another layer to Clown’s prison,” Acknowledge the fact that there is an opposing possibility.
“But the inner city was another layer to the Wastelands.” Refute the opposing possibility with facts.
“We’re one step closer to freedom already.” Encourage them with what they want most.
“We just need to hold on for a bit longer. I will get us out of here. I’ve done it once, and I will continue to do it until we are all free.” Use we to emphasize feelings of camaraderie, give them a figure to trust, share credibility for the figure, and make a promise supported by credibility.
“For now, stay close so no one gets lost or hurt. We’ll move together in ten minutes.” Give simple instruction. Prisoners are used to authority. Players crave familiarity in any way they can get it.
He took a deep breath in, making sure to smooth over his expression for those who’s gazes still lingered on him. Soon enough, even the lone straggler engaged with staring cut themself off. The people began to talk. Some wandered off slightly, exploring the terrain. As Parrot jumped down from the small netherrack tower, walking through the thinning crowd toward a clear spot where he could think and observe, a hand on his shoulder stopped him.
“Hey, great work back there man, but, uh–” The macaw glanced over his shoulder before turning fully to face what appeared to be an angel hybrid. Shamefully, his eyes glanced up to his hair. Strands of blue surrounded by grey greeted his eyes. He quickly glanced down to meet his eyes as he continued his sentence.
“–how are you able to place blocks?” Parrot paused, his face smooth before his eyebrows swiftly shifted forward to pinch together. His eyes narrowed in confusion, morphing around his black scelera.
“What?” He said simply, baiting for a more in depth explanation. He glanced away from him, staring behind him for a moment before meeting his eyes– not quite– once more.
“…No one else can place blocks, and everyone else is unable to break blocks.” Parrot’s expression froze before his eyebrows lifted and his eyes widened just slightly. He glanced to the right of the angel hybrid before his gaze dropped to the soul sand floor.
After a moment, he looked back up at the hybrid, his expression pinched as if he were staring at something he couldn’t quite decipher.
“…I also have a question, uh…” Parrot trailed off, signaling his need for a name, only to be met with his stare meeting his. They stared at each other for a moment before Parrot closed his eyes, coughing exaggeratedly into his closed fist. He gave a pointed look to the angel hybrid who blinked before slowly bringing a hand up to point at himself. Parrot nodded.
“Oh! Um. My name is Angelicgraves, you can call me Angelic or Graves, or the whole thing.” Parrot nodded.
“Angelic… why did you phrase it like that?” Parrot asked simply, his head rolling slightly to tilt to the right. The angel tensed noticably.
“…Huh?” He said dumbly. Parrot’s eyes narrowed.
“You know what I’m talking about.” He stated plainly, holding his gaze on the angel. The other man glanced away, his eyes scurrying over everything but him before they inevitably met his once more. He swallowed thickly. Parrot still didn’t let up.
“I said it like that… because no one else can place or break blocks… you can place blocks, though,” He glanced away once more. Parrot followed his gaze to see a block of soul sand sitting on the floor before despawning. He whipped his head to look back at the angel, who slowly moved his head until his eyes batted up to meet his.
“–and I can break them.” Perfect.
Parrot wasn’t intending to be sarcastic or demeaning when that was his first thought– in fact, one could say it was the exact opposite of what most people would’ve gotten out of the word. He could work with this. Someone who was able to break while he was able to place. Between these two abilities that were commonplace in everywhere but this dimension, Parrot could get them out. He paused for a moment, thinking.
The problem was… from where?
Sure, he had everything that he needed to do this. He could place his enderchest and grab his extra gear set, his tools, extra bridging blocks, and get to an exit– but that was just it.
He didn’t know where the exit was. And there was no way in hell that they would be going back from where they just came from to be met with the same situation, but likely worse terms. He turned away from Angelic, his expression pinched with planning. The angel glanced around as if afraid he had done something wrong. His arms dropped, the left coming up to rub the right as he stared at Parrot, who had begun muttering.
“Search for… if there are any, that is… could be… signs of civilization? Maybe split… but how would we…? Hm… no splitting up then… travel together in a… Yeah. Ok.” He suddenly looked up, turning to Angelic and grabbing their shoulder with their right hand.
“Alright. I know what to do.” Before the angel could reply, Parrot briskly walked past them, back to the two block tall netherrack structure. He placed down one more block beside it then jumped up, releasing a long whistle.
Heads snapped immediately, some turning slowly having their attention dragged away from their conversations. People wandered over, conversations dying off as they stood near Parrot, looking up at him. Angelic walked a bit closer, his fingers brushing against his chin as he waited.
“We’re going to start moving now. We’ll head North and try to search for people or signs of civilization. Keep your eyes peeled and tell me anything that has either of those signs.” He walks down from the small tower and begins walking North, towards Angelic. The angel’s head follows as Parrot walks past him, staring at him for a moment before startling, scrambling to stand behind him.
The group is large. Not inconspicuous in any way, and not strong in any way that wasn’t in numbers. Parrot didn’t want problems. He never did, really, but especially not now when people relied on him to get them home.
But, despite his paranoia screaming that something could happen at any minute during any time when his back was turned or for the split second that he would blink, or for the few seconds that he would stop to eat– nothing happened.
It wasn’t too bad, really. Parrot was extremely accustomed to walking far distances, so he spent this time thinking while the others conversed, shared their food and resources, and giggled amongst each other.
It reminded him of his civilization. The reason he was doing all of this. He could feel eyes on him– flickering away after a few moments, but some stares lingered for longer. Some didn’t seem to go away at all. And one of those were Angelic.
He didn’t bother addressing it despite what he may have wanted. Parrot was exhausted at this point. He was sure that they all were, and, Parrot didn’t mean to seem egotistical, or make exhaustion a competition, but he knew very well that no one had it like he did.
He doesn’t know how long he spent in Clown’s domain. He didn’t know if his civilization was still standing– if Clown hadn’t just gotten fed up with it all and razed the ground until he found what he was looking for.
All that he knew was that if Clown did, it was all for nothing.
Afterall, Wifies had been the one to hide the villager.
His eyes glazed over further, if possible. It was still an unbelievably sore topic. The fresh patch of grey symbolizing Wifies’ loss. The patches of grey that had followed not long after when NoMic, Dr Mae, and Snow had followed.
Parrot’s civilization was all that he had left. The people made the environment that he had prayed for endlessly when all of the chaos started.
He was attached, and that never ended well. Not for Parrot. Never for Parrot.
At times, he wished that his soulmates could betray him. That his friends would instead turn their backs on him and join whatever opposing side there was. That they would run to Clown, or snicker with Saparata. He had a feeling that would be better than having to make an empty grave. Than having a collection of screenshots where he was the only one living.
The cruelest thing about the Unstable SMP. It wasn’t the soulmate mechanic itself, but instead, how it functioned. Everyone knew the number of soulmates they had, but they had no way to tell when someone was or wasn’t their soulmate.
Not until they died, at least. The royal color bleeding into a dull grey as the life faded from a player’s eyes was unmistakable.
Parrot liked to think that he would’ve taken better care of his deceased friends if he knew they were his soulmates. They he would’ve kept them safer. Used more precautions.
Especially with how many of them feared the very thing that would reveal the identity of your soulmate. The soulless grey that meant death. Parrot was reminded of Pesto. His gaze softened at the mental image.
Parrot couldn’t blame the teen for fearing death. But Parrot was his same age when he learned that death was a natural thing that came with servers like the Unstable SMP. He thought that was why he might’ve been so insistent that Pesto be braver– so Parrot wouldn’t lose his civilization. But, simultaneously, he didn’t want to lose Pesto. How selfish was that?
He had felt the same way about Wifies, once upon a time. He would always hide the part of himself that still, even knowing that he was now dead, and that, if given a second chance, Parrot still wouldn’t know where he went wrong. He didn’t like the thought that he himself wasn’t where it went wrong.
Parrot furrowed his eyebrows, his eyes sharpening with his own perplexing thoughts. It was… complex. Even for him.
Still, despite the hurt the thought of Wifies brought him, he couldn’t help but to keep straying back to it.
He was such a long time companion of his; sticking to his side even when he was foolish and blind. Even when he caused Wifies to get hurt, kidnapped, ransomed– he was still right there at the end of the day. Standing by Parrot’s side. Chucking him food, bringing him back to reality, chasing him even when he isolated himself.
Tears welled in his eyes. He didn’t know why. He felt guilty. Not for crying– but for crying over Wifies.
He had lost three soulmates within the span of a few days, and he didn’t shed even a third of the amount he had over Wifies’ death. Did that make him a bad person? Caring more for one person’s death over three people?
Wifies had trapped him. He’d killed the part of himself that truly cared for Parrot. He intended to keep Parrot with him, inside the Paragon, with the threat of death looming over the macaw’s head to ensure that he wouldn’t leave. But Parrot left anyways, knowing that Wifies would die one way or another. Did that make him a bad person?
Even if Wifies didn’t run, the spyglass would still despawn. Even if it somehow didn’t, he would starve. Even if he somehow didn’t… Parrot’s headwings perked up. He blinked the half-dried tears out of the inner corners of his eyes, staring at the notification that had popped up in front of him.
It was a message. Only friends could message each other on the server, given the sheer size of it. Parrot had a lengthy friends list that he never bothered clearing up. It could be just about anyone, if not given the fact that you could only message someone in the same dimension as you. Parrot tilted his head slightly. Someone he had friended. Someone he knew.
Mapicc: 28144 -142 -31890
Parrot paused. It took a few moments before the others realized that he stopped, but they paused as well, appearing similarly to a wave in a body of water. Parrot pinched his fingers above the message, flicking his fingers open to zoom in to the message.
The prisoners groaned, sitting on the soul sand with some laying flat on their backs. Others took this time to eat. Some paced around. Some tried their hand at breaking and placing once more. Angelic did none of these, simply staring at Parrot pinching and staring intently at what appeared to be a sheer blue screen to others. He walked closer, stopping at a respectable distance. Parrot didn’t say anything for a moment, until he suddenly did.
“I have coordinates leading somewhere,” he simply stated. Angelic snapped his head up, his headwings trembling for a moment, white feathers flying before they relaxed. Angelic tilted his head.
“Leading to..?” He trailed off. Parrot fell silent. The chatter of the prisoners filled the space in.
“Good question. Let’s find out.” Parrot swiped the messaging screen away and opened a new menu– his F3 menu. He began to deviate his path eastward, whistling when he started moving once more. Like a hivemind, or perhaps Parrot’s own flock of birds, head snapped up, players sat up, and suddenly, everyone was back in movement.
Parrot didn’t know exactly where they were going. He didn’t quite know where Mapicc was, how he got down here, where here even was in the first place, but he knew one thing:
He was going to escape with everyone he had saved, or he would die trying.