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Wemmbu's throat itched terribly.
He sat at the far end of the long, dark oak table that expanded the length of the meeting room. Arms crossed over his chest, idly playing with the end of his low ponytail. He wasn't paying much attention to the current conversation. Eyes drifting about the room with disinterest; from the ridiculous amount of maps scattered across the table, to the out-of-place feathers of Parrot's hair, the half-wilted red flower he didn't know the name of by an open window, the feeling of Jaden's leg bouncing and knocking against his thigh, and then back to the maps all over again.
They were scribbled over by too many hands. Parrot traced straight red lines from unnamed mountain ranges to the outskirts of the server with the tip of his finger, while Minute circled scattered areas around Law territory with pencil lead. Fortresses hidden in hillsides that they needed to avoid, forts poking out from forests they could raid for supplies. Occasionally, Jumper chimed in with areas that usually acted as Law stakeouts. She put a white star on those. When she leaned back, Jaden crossed out two of her stars and three of Minute's circles with black marker. Taken care of already, was all he'd offer with a one-shoulder shrug.
Wemmbu was bored out of his mind, honestly. The meeting room was full of all eleven of them — for some reason — but those four were the only ones really contributing to the planning. At the other end of the table, Spoke, Mapicc, and Theo were talking animatedly about the recent skirmish they had out west. Flame butted in every other second to make snide comments about Theo's carting—which usually ended in the two starting a good-natured back-and-forth about their techniques that always got a laugh out of Spoke. He really could care less.
With a slight annoyed huff, he dropped his arms on the table and then his head. This place was going to give him a headache—no, scratch that, he had one already.
It pulsed at the back of his head, right above his ponytail. It had been there all day, an incessant thing that hadn't left him alone since he stepped off the battlefield with the others that morning.
His throat itched again, he swallowed it down.
Something taps his ankle under the table. Wemmbu raises his head enough to squint across at his best friend, muttering out a dry, "What, dude?"
"Just checkin' in on you, bro, relax," Egg has one of his stupid journals open in front of him, feather quill laid crooked across one page. Waiting for the ink to dry. Wemmbu has no idea what in this room could be interesting enough for him to write about. "You've been annoyed all day, man. I thought that fight would've made you feel better."
It did, for a little bit. The adrenaline from a good fight always made Wemmbu feel a bit giddy. Taking down his enemies made his bones sing, his muscles thrum, the whistle of the wind in his ears a welcome hymn as he crashed down from the sky with Gambit in hand. All in a good, aching way. Flame would understand; most of the people here might, actually.
Egg, somehow, was one of those people. Not for himself, never for himself. He simply just knew Wemmbu that well.
"I have a headache." is all he grumbles in reply, hiding his face in his arms again.
Egg hits his ankle with his shoe. Wemmbu groans loudly but refuses to lift his head this time.
"I'm fine, Egg,"
"That's what you always say, bro," Wemmbu could practically hear the eyeroll from across the table. "Did you get checked out by Minute?"
..No, actually. Or, not really. Their ragtag group had made it a point to prevent as many injuries as possible, especially with the limited supplies they had here at this so-called "secret base" of Spoke's. They just didn't have time for it. Being several thousand blocks out from District 13, with the Law crawling over every other face of the server like hungry wolves, hunting them — hunting anyone they considered dangerous — and with so little time to complete their goal, they couldn't sit around for a few extra days waiting for one or two others to heal up properly. They had already done so when Theo was sick, and again when Flame thought it a smart idea to start another stupid fight with Jaden.
Even then, he couldn't say that the netherborne didn't deserve that knife to the thigh.
Wemmbu chases away the sting in his throat a second time, coughs roughly into his elbow, then answers, "Yeah, he said I'm good."
Egg's wings ruffle in a way that reads as disbelief. There's six of them curled carefully around the seraphim's face, hiding what is supposedly human from view even if Egg isn't actually a normal player by any standard. The others here know that — a vague kind of trust that neither him nor Egg could tell was temporary or not — but he hides himself behind a false visage anyway. It's probably safer like this.
Sighing in that exasperated way Egg always does when he doesn't want to deal with Wemmbu being difficult, but knowing he's the only one who can, he reaches across the table and pokes twice at Wemmbu's arm. The endborne groans again, but does unfurl enough to offer said arm. Upturned palm and wrist, lavender skin mostly hidden by his skin-tight wraps, but not as tense as he would normally be. They don't usually like to do this in front of other people, but he supposes that vague trust is making Wemmbu less paranoid.
Egg says nothing as he pulls off one of Wemmbu's black gloves, exposing the skin of his scarred fingers that fades from lavender to dusk to plum and then to black as it reaches his claws. He wiggles his claws a little, barely scraping the seraphim's wrist. Snickers when Egg bats at him to stop — "Dude, cut it out," — because to him, it always tickles. Egg's words, not his. Eventually, after a few seconds of silence between them and too many conversations crowding over their heads, Egg lays his bare palm flat against Wemmbu's.
The thin, gold-inlaid scar that runs across both of their palms — identical, purposeful, a point of connection only they share — rest together, and Wemmbu lets some of the tension drain from his shoulders. The ache of that morning's battle sweeps through him, but he ignores it like he always does.
The headache remains. That itchy, dry, irritated feeling in his throat that makes him so annoyed persists; but he says nothing. He just lets Egg do his thing.
"What are you two doing?" Zam asks from Wemmbu's right side. On his left, Jaden is still bouncing his leg underneath the dark oak. He unwinds to grasp the pirate's knee, squeezing once. A silent tell that can only mean one thing: relax. Jaden pauses for about three full seconds to side-glance him from the corner of his eye. Wemmbu doesn't look back; so he sighs, and shoos the endborne's hand away. The fidgeting doesn't restart.
"Nothing." Wemmbu says as he sits up, posture unguarded. He tries not to frown.
"Nothing," Egg replies in the same breath. He's gone back to writing with his right hand, while his left stays overtop of Wemmbu's. He was luckily ambidextrous. Then, "I'm reading his energy."
It comes out in that weird, ominous tone he likes to use when he thinks it makes him sound omniscient and worldly-wise. Wemmbu just thinks he sounds silly. It makes him laugh anyway, which gets a giggle out of Egg too.
"You can do that?" Zam blinks between them, then at their joined hands. A mystified and curious look in her eyes.
"No." Egg deadpans.
Wemmbu laughs louder at that. It draws the attention of a couple people around the table; some who regard the best friends with equal parts confusion and intrigue, while others go right back to what they were doing before.
Mapicc pokes his head around from Zam's other side. "What're we holding hands for?"
"Egg is 'reading his energy'," Zam air-quotes with both hands. "Whatever that means."
"I have a headache," Wemmbu supplies unhelpfully. Mapicc just looks even more confused. The red markings that outline the height of his cheekbones seem more blood-red than auburn today.
Wemmbu wrinkles his nose. A strange though he chooses to ignore.
"Is this a best friend thing we don't know about?" Spoke pipes up from the end, both hands flat on the table so he could lean as far forward to peer at their hands. Flame shoves him back when the tail-end of his too-long bandana dangles in his face.
"No—"
"Yes," Egg hums, the slight crook of smirk not at all hidden by his wings. Wemmbu shoots him a look over the table. His best friend just smirks a little wider. "You should try it with Mapicc, man. It's enlightening."
Before the other nether hybrid can protest, Spoke is grabbing both his hands and pulling him clumsily to his feet. Hollering something about the ultimate wavelength connection as horns an identical length to Mapicc's form on his head. Just before he bangs his forehead against his friend's hard enough that their horns knock together. They both yelp and jump away from each other, rubbing at their foreheads.
Theo cackles in his chair, far too amused. Flame massages his temples and Zam hides a giggle behind her hand, fish fin-like ears wiggling. Wemmbu only stops laughing when Jumper walks around the table to see what in the world her friends are doing. Wemmbu is left feeling light-headed.
Minute sits back down in his chair beside Egg with a minor flap of his big black wings. Glancing towards the pair, giving a single blink of his pale-white eyes. He seems to be waiting for Parrot and Jaden to finish some discussion about the Great Sea. "Is this that weird healing thing you kept doing back in the End?" he asks, genuinely curious.
Egg mumbles something nonsensical as his wings twitch, which is basically the closest he can get to bothered. "It's not a healing thing, dude," he huffs. "It's like—I don't know, an angel thing, but not really. Y'know?"
Minute blinks at him. Parrot echoes an angel thing? in a murmur, then goes back to talking with Jaden like he wasn't subtly snooping in.
Wemmbu decides not to call him out for once. Too distracted staring at the red rose tucked into the lapel of Minute's suit jacket.
Egg just huffs again. "I can't explain it in a way that doesn't sound complicated, but it's like a psychic connection, in a way. I can gauge someone's general well-being and state of mind, in its simplest form." he glances at Wemmbu then, as if searching for permission for something unspoken. Wemmbu taps the underside of his wrist twice; a silent no. "I can do it with anyone," Egg goes on, leaving out any deeper explanations. "I'd just rather.. er, not."
"Jarring experience?" Minute questions. Egg nods sagely—his hand tightens around Wemmbu's with a sudden jolt, but the endborne hardly pays it any mind.
"Terrifying," Wemmbu answers in his stead. Not something he would admit, but the memory from so many years back still remains fresh in his mind. "I think I almost died?" a shudder trickles its way down his spine, the headache throbs painfully at the base of his skull.
Zam startles a touch beside him, he hadn't noticed that she was listening in. "Uh, Wemmbu—"
"It's a long story," he sniffs, finally tearing his gaze away from the rose. The crimson color of it was starting to make his vision swim. "Not that I'd tell, of course. Gotta keep a few secrets here and there, right?"
He looks up towards Jaden and Parrot, only to find both men already staring back at him. Something akin to a brief alarm written across their faces. Wemmbu doesn't stop himself from frowning this time.
"What?"
Drip, drip.
"Wemmbu, your nose," Minute speaks first because no one else seemingly will.
The endborne sniffs once more, his frown deepening as the realization settles that he can hardly breathe through it. Something dribbles onto his unoccupied hand, cold. When he glances down, he sees the familiar, deep reddish-purple of his own blood splattered on his skin, on the dark oak table. Trickling steadily from his nose, over his lips, and off the edge of his chin.
Oh.
Wemmbu snaps his hand away from Egg, slapping it hard over the lower half of his face as he shoots up to his feet. His chair scrapes all too noisily behind him as he does, drawing the attention of everyone else at the table.
Egg starts to stand. "Wemmbu, wait—"
"I'm fine, I'm fine, it's just a nosebleed," he hurries, slurs as he steps quickly around Zam's chair. The world tilts uncertainly, enough to make him stumble for half a second. But he catches himself on the back of Mapicc's chair, then scurries out of the meeting room and into the waiting sun. It's too bright out. He hisses and squints his eyes to hide away, giving himself just another second to adjust. Behind him, he can hear the chatter of Flame and Theo asking what's going on, Parrot assuring it's nothing — nothing big, at least — and a cacophonous number of voices filling the resulting space between. Wemmbu hisses again and staggers his way over to the closest building by the small castle.
As he makes it into the shadow of the storage house, he places a bloodied hand on the cool stone wall to stop himself from swaying. He can't, however, stop himself from sniffling once, twice, before he bends at the waist and drops his other hand to his knee. Trying to breathe quietly through his mouth as his blood drip, drip, drips onto the cobble below.
Okay. This is fine. He's had nosebleeds before.
This is totally normal.
"You're literally such an idiot, dude."
Wemmbu starts to straighten to greet his best friend, maybe with some snark on the end of his tongue. However, he doesn't get far as Egg places his now gloved hand on the back of his neck and pushes him back down. "Dude—"
"Don't 'dude' me, how many times have I told you to be careful with all those strength potions?"
Is that what this is? Okay, that might make sense. "You 'dude'-ed me first, bro,"
"Shut up," Egg grumbles. Oh, he must really be annoyed then. He only grumbles when something gets to him, and somehow that something is always related to Wemmbu. The seraphim tilts his head up a little so the blood flows easier, but not too far that it starts dripping down his throat. "I told you to be more conscious of your intake. You were already chugging invisibility for months before — almost half a year — and now this?"
"Uh," he says dumbly.
Egg pinches the skin of his nape between two fingers, Wemmbu smacks him away in retaliation.
The seraphim returns a moment later with a handkerchief that he carefully presses under his nose. Wemmbu mutters a small thanks, replacing his friend's hand with his own so he doesn't get blood on his sleeve.
He knows how much Egg hates washing out his blood.
They stay there in the shade for what feels like a long time, but realistically may only be ten minutes. Or twenty. The time itself is lost on Wemmbu, because he's not the kind of player who keeps track of those sorts of things. That job is for Egg. His best friend, who knows that endborne like Wemmbu and Minute are more susceptible to redstone-poisoning or other redstone-related sicknesses. Who knows that Wemmbu started drinking invisibility potions instead of using normal splash potions because he couldn't always risk being heard. Even in the End, where he was supposed to be safe. His best friend, who knows that the iridescent oil-sheen of blue and pink and green and every other color under the sun will never fade from the ends of his hair. Who knows that the identity of the Invisible Knight left an imprint on him, even months later, and won't go away anytime soon.
Wemmbu has a best friend that knows him better than he knows himself sometimes. It's a terrifying thing, but he tries hard to not let it scare him anymore.
Fingers snap in front of his face, marred by familiar gray scars. Wemmbu blinks back into focus to meet Minute's eyes. "Are you alright, Wemmbu?" he shrugs minimally without speaking up.
The other endborne sighs, then gestures at the mostly-soiled handkerchief. "C'mon, let me see."
When he pulls back the cloth, the bleeding had already long ceased. Some of it has dried around his nose and mouth, of which he scrubs at with the heel of his bloody palm in an attempt to get rid of. Minute stops him to offer a wet washcloth instead. "..Thank you." they trade as Minute nods, tossing the handkerchief aside so it can be disposed of later. After Wemmbu finishes wiping off the blood, he lets Minute tilt his face while Egg watches from over his shoulder.
"Seems all good to me.." he supposed, letting his hand drop. "You said it was strength potions, right?"
Eggs hmms in confirmation, shuffling to sit down next to Wemmbu. "I recognized the blaze powder in his body."
Although Minute's brow lifts with curiosity, he holds whatever questions about Egg's "psychic connection" bullshit he wants to ask. "..Uhuh. And how many did you take this morning?" he directs this at Wemmbu while holds out a flat, plastic stick. Wemmbu doesn't hold back his groan.
"I don't know. Five or six? Maybe seven? It was a long battle." he responds before opening his mouth to let Minute place the stick on his tongue, squinting. A figure shifts in his peripheral—when his eyes flick to follow it, he sees Jaden approaching. He simply waves in greeting, ignoring the baffled look he's giving him.
Minute retracts the stick as Jaden crouches down to join them. "There's some inflammation from the residual redstone, but not enough to monitor you for poisoning." he reports, handing the purple endborne a vial of water. Wemmbu just eyes it suspiciously.
"'S jus' saltwater," Jaden tells him, always one to ease his paranoia these days. "'Ll help with the swellin'. 'N the blood'n your teeth."
"Gross.."
"Just take it, man." Egg jabs an elbow into his ribs. Hard enough to hurt, though only briefly. Wemmbu elbows him back anyway.
He leans back to gargle the saltwater as Minute begins talking again, wiping away the blood at their feet idly. "That being said, no more potions for awhile." he points a clawed finger at Wemmbu. "I mean it. No strength, no fire res, not even a drop of swiftness. I don't want you taking anything until we get to District 13."
"Seriously?" he wipes at his mouth after spitting out the saltwater to the side. "How am I supposed to fight out there?"
"The same way you always do. Just without the magic."
"I don't use potions," Egg informs, as if that added anything to the conversation.
Wemmbu flicks the tip of one pure-white wing. "That's because I make you give me your potions. They barely do anything for bow-users."
Egg just shrugs and flutters his head-wings, unbothered. "I still make the shots that count."
"Whatever bro.. are we done here? I need a nap." he hadn't gotten the chance to rest after the fight. The minute they had gotten back, Theo was dragging him back to that dumb castle for another one of Parrot's stupidly-anxious all-hands meetings. Which, to no one's surprise, had lasted exactly eight minutes before things teetered off into their own idle chitchats that Wemmbu did not care to join.
Minute dusts off his pants and waves a hand. "You're free to go. Just remember no potions." he calls over his shoulder as he walks off, back towards the castle.
Jaden walks them to the temporary house he and Egg are sharing, offering a few other remedies that Egg spends the short distance noting down. As they make it to the door, Jaden catches him by the sleeve for one last thing.
"Here, for you 'n Eggchan." the pirate places a small bag in his hand, semi-translucent and filled halfway with amber-colored, droplet-shaped.. um, somethings. Wemmbu feels like he's seen them before. "They're honeydrops," Jaden begins to explain upon noticing his puzzled expression. "They're.. technically candy, bu' they can 'lso help with sore throa'."
Wemmbu blinks at him.
"How'd you know I like sweets?"
Jaden blinks back; there, a crease at his eyes that Wemmbu recognizes as a subtle tell that he's smiling under his mask. He shrugs one shoulder. "Jus'a hunch. Res' well, Wemm." he offers a wave, then leaves without another word.
Wemmbu stands in the door for only a minute longer, before Egg calls him inside. They each take a honeydrop before Wemmbu heads up to his room—which isn't entirely his room, because he and Egg share everything no matter where they are. He falls asleep with the idea that maybe, after all's said and done with the Law, he won't have to keep running anymore. Maybe he'll have a couple new people to trust.
Maybe he'll make new friends.