Fic: What They Don't Say
Sunday, October 25th, 2015 11:31 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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mindcrackloveSometimes it's the words that never see the sun that tell greater stories. (Thanks to coolboynbg_1 aka Sollux for the beta!)
What They Don’t Say
It’s so dark, so cold. It presses in upon him, more than the small cabins he lives in, more than the caves which feel like home; they are nothing at all like this Void-empty End-darkness.
But no, the End didn’t exist then (now?), or it did (does) but only in the fold between worlds, unknown, but it doesn’t matter because it creeps like tendrils over his skin, he stares desperately at his lone torch, his only shield against the dark. All the rest have vanished, every time he turns his back, and in their places eyes peer back.
He can’t hold back his whimper as the torch flickers, and the eyes glitter at him unblinkingly, getting larger as they move closer. They can’t stand the light, as long as this little candle stays lit, so long as he never looks away from it they can’t get to him, they can’t get to him—!
He sees the exact moment his torch fails, the smoke curls oddly sideways, the flame abruptly flaring up, before narrowing to the thinnest thread, a faint dust of ash sparkling once before the blackness swallows everything whole, and as the eyes all converge on his heart he opens his mouth to breath in ice and scream one last time—
“Guude! Wake up!”
A hand around his left wrist, another pinning his opposing shoulder against the freezing stone floor. His eyes shoot open, and he gasps, taking in Bdoubleo’s face, silhouetted dimly against the bright shine of glowstone behind him.
Guude wrenches his shoulder to the side to dislodge Bdubs’ grip, the one on his wrist isn’t stopping him from moving, so he just drags his surprised deadweight with him as he lunges for the blocks of frozen light. As cold as the stone beneath his feet (and isn’t that an oddity, the light of the Nether being the coldest thing over there), he nevertheless drapes himself over the block, presses his hands—the hand resting against his wrist is unresisting, almost limp if it weren’t locked in place— against the pocketed, bubbled surface.
It’s not a torch, it won’t go out. In all his years, glowstone has never once flickered, never once run out of fuel. It’s safe, this isn’t…
“Phorofor?” Bdubs asks, gently.
Guude nods, doesn’t trust himself to be able to look at him and not hug the man for every scrap of warmth he can give. It’s alright, the calloused fingers around his wrist are enough, they are solid and fleshy and heat radiates from them against Guude’s pulse. He presses himself closer to the glowstone, memorizing the curving contours, as much as the brightness and lack of blinking is making tears wick into his eyes. He almost wants it to be a torch, at least then it would have warmth.
This being Bdubs, he can’t just leave it alone. Not when Guude’s involved, and he shouldn’t be surprised anymore that Bdubs’ go-to solution is to touch. Words don’t come to him easily, and Bdubs knows his nightmares now. The thing about sharing legendary adventures with people, even once-strangers, is that they, sometimes quickly, sometimes slowly, become privy to every little secret you hold dear.
So, Guude starts when Bdubs, keeping his hand in place, halt-turns and sits himself on the glowstone, pressing their legs together. As much as this cold, cold light leeches heat from his skin, Bdubs has always run warm. Guude can’t help but shuffle a little closer.
Guude takes in a breath, lets it out in a measured stream that briefly condenses before it fades. “Dark, cold, eyes everywhere and one torch left. You know the drill,” he says, clipped and final.
The clasp on his wrist tightens for an instant. Acknowledgement and comfort.
They are silent for a while, as Guude regains his composure enough to lever himself upright and sit down next to Bdubs. His right shoulder aches a little from when he twisted it away earlier.
Bdubs side-eyes him, mischievous intent written all over his face. “Bet you’ll never guess what I dreamed about.”
“What?” Guude asks, eyeing him right back, wearily. “Am I gonna regret asking? I’m gonna regret asking, aren’t I?”
“Now that is aaaaall a matter of opinion, my friend. See, I was up on this pyramid, and it was made of gold, right? Bright, shiny, reflective gold. Completely covered in it. Which would normally be a good thing, right?” he waits for Guude to nod. “Well see, the only thing I’m wearing is this dinky little loincloth…”
Guude snorts out a helpless little giggle. It isn’t even very funny (c’mon, it’s the equivalent of going outside without pants), but Notch above, it’s so very Bdubs, and the adrenaline as left him tired enough to find it laughter-worthy. Bdubs smirks at him.
“No, see, that wasn’t even the end of it. There were a bunch of chickens down at the base of the thing…”
Guude snickers again, letting Bdubs’ voice wash away the rest of the chill. The man can’t talk coherently worth a damn, but he can sure babble his way into anyone’s heart. They’ll be back in civilization eventually, back where Guude has to be a leader, where Bdubs is just his friend-in-arms, rather than his sole companion against the world, where they aren’t each other’s shield, sword, and shelter. For now, though, for now he can rest his head against someone else’s shoulder, can hear only the slightest fluctuation in cadence as he does so.
Shifting and wriggling, Bdubs gets them situated up against the wall, so maybe they won’t tip over onto the floor in the middle of the night. Somehow, he keeps up his steady stream of words, though by this point he’s moved on from mind-scarring dreams and onto “…melon seeds, can you believe it? Melon seeds! Well, I told him…”
Crop trading with Beef, apparently.
Guude nudges him lightly with his chin.
“What, is this not interesting enough for you? I thought you’d have a vested interest in the fragility of our economy, isn’t that what you leader-types do?” Bdubs says, mock offended.
“How many words can you go without stopping for breath?” Guude mumbles into his friend’s shoulder, almost interested enough to find out right now, rather than at a reasonable time of day, like actual daytime.
“I will show you exactly how many. There once was a man who lived in a can…”
Guude drifts off with a circle of warmth around his wrist and light chatter in his ears.
*_*_*
Notes: The 404 challenge was basically “play Minecraft w/o torches from a specific seed,” and Guude made a series for it waaay back. In RPG Kingdom AU (I’ve set a few of my stories in it, just most not obviously), Phorofor was a colony sent way out of (former) King Notch’s territory, trying to establish a foothold in a newly discovered region. Guude was a Lord of Phorofor until the horrific Lost Link Tragedy, wherein nature itself seemed to turn against them. A terrible storm raged continually over their heads, ripping away torch and house alike. They found shelter in caves, but the monsters in them were attracted to the light and swarmed them. The ones that could stand the light would douse their torches, so that the ones that couldn’t could attack as well. Very few colonists survived long enough for rescue to reach them, and those that did (who were of age) were knighted by (former) King Notch when they returned to the kingdom as Knights of the Lost Link. (King Notch eventually turned his eyes to other things, ascending to Godhood. His duties were taken up by Prince Regent Jeb, who now rules as King Jeb jointly with the Small Council of Soft.)
What They Don’t Say
It’s so dark, so cold. It presses in upon him, more than the small cabins he lives in, more than the caves which feel like home; they are nothing at all like this Void-empty End-darkness.
But no, the End didn’t exist then (now?), or it did (does) but only in the fold between worlds, unknown, but it doesn’t matter because it creeps like tendrils over his skin, he stares desperately at his lone torch, his only shield against the dark. All the rest have vanished, every time he turns his back, and in their places eyes peer back.
He can’t hold back his whimper as the torch flickers, and the eyes glitter at him unblinkingly, getting larger as they move closer. They can’t stand the light, as long as this little candle stays lit, so long as he never looks away from it they can’t get to him, they can’t get to him—!
He sees the exact moment his torch fails, the smoke curls oddly sideways, the flame abruptly flaring up, before narrowing to the thinnest thread, a faint dust of ash sparkling once before the blackness swallows everything whole, and as the eyes all converge on his heart he opens his mouth to breath in ice and scream one last time—
“Guude! Wake up!”
A hand around his left wrist, another pinning his opposing shoulder against the freezing stone floor. His eyes shoot open, and he gasps, taking in Bdoubleo’s face, silhouetted dimly against the bright shine of glowstone behind him.
Guude wrenches his shoulder to the side to dislodge Bdubs’ grip, the one on his wrist isn’t stopping him from moving, so he just drags his surprised deadweight with him as he lunges for the blocks of frozen light. As cold as the stone beneath his feet (and isn’t that an oddity, the light of the Nether being the coldest thing over there), he nevertheless drapes himself over the block, presses his hands—the hand resting against his wrist is unresisting, almost limp if it weren’t locked in place— against the pocketed, bubbled surface.
It’s not a torch, it won’t go out. In all his years, glowstone has never once flickered, never once run out of fuel. It’s safe, this isn’t…
“Phorofor?” Bdubs asks, gently.
Guude nods, doesn’t trust himself to be able to look at him and not hug the man for every scrap of warmth he can give. It’s alright, the calloused fingers around his wrist are enough, they are solid and fleshy and heat radiates from them against Guude’s pulse. He presses himself closer to the glowstone, memorizing the curving contours, as much as the brightness and lack of blinking is making tears wick into his eyes. He almost wants it to be a torch, at least then it would have warmth.
This being Bdubs, he can’t just leave it alone. Not when Guude’s involved, and he shouldn’t be surprised anymore that Bdubs’ go-to solution is to touch. Words don’t come to him easily, and Bdubs knows his nightmares now. The thing about sharing legendary adventures with people, even once-strangers, is that they, sometimes quickly, sometimes slowly, become privy to every little secret you hold dear.
So, Guude starts when Bdubs, keeping his hand in place, halt-turns and sits himself on the glowstone, pressing their legs together. As much as this cold, cold light leeches heat from his skin, Bdubs has always run warm. Guude can’t help but shuffle a little closer.
Guude takes in a breath, lets it out in a measured stream that briefly condenses before it fades. “Dark, cold, eyes everywhere and one torch left. You know the drill,” he says, clipped and final.
The clasp on his wrist tightens for an instant. Acknowledgement and comfort.
They are silent for a while, as Guude regains his composure enough to lever himself upright and sit down next to Bdubs. His right shoulder aches a little from when he twisted it away earlier.
Bdubs side-eyes him, mischievous intent written all over his face. “Bet you’ll never guess what I dreamed about.”
“What?” Guude asks, eyeing him right back, wearily. “Am I gonna regret asking? I’m gonna regret asking, aren’t I?”
“Now that is aaaaall a matter of opinion, my friend. See, I was up on this pyramid, and it was made of gold, right? Bright, shiny, reflective gold. Completely covered in it. Which would normally be a good thing, right?” he waits for Guude to nod. “Well see, the only thing I’m wearing is this dinky little loincloth…”
Guude snorts out a helpless little giggle. It isn’t even very funny (c’mon, it’s the equivalent of going outside without pants), but Notch above, it’s so very Bdubs, and the adrenaline as left him tired enough to find it laughter-worthy. Bdubs smirks at him.
“No, see, that wasn’t even the end of it. There were a bunch of chickens down at the base of the thing…”
Guude snickers again, letting Bdubs’ voice wash away the rest of the chill. The man can’t talk coherently worth a damn, but he can sure babble his way into anyone’s heart. They’ll be back in civilization eventually, back where Guude has to be a leader, where Bdubs is just his friend-in-arms, rather than his sole companion against the world, where they aren’t each other’s shield, sword, and shelter. For now, though, for now he can rest his head against someone else’s shoulder, can hear only the slightest fluctuation in cadence as he does so.
Shifting and wriggling, Bdubs gets them situated up against the wall, so maybe they won’t tip over onto the floor in the middle of the night. Somehow, he keeps up his steady stream of words, though by this point he’s moved on from mind-scarring dreams and onto “…melon seeds, can you believe it? Melon seeds! Well, I told him…”
Crop trading with Beef, apparently.
Guude nudges him lightly with his chin.
“What, is this not interesting enough for you? I thought you’d have a vested interest in the fragility of our economy, isn’t that what you leader-types do?” Bdubs says, mock offended.
“How many words can you go without stopping for breath?” Guude mumbles into his friend’s shoulder, almost interested enough to find out right now, rather than at a reasonable time of day, like actual daytime.
“I will show you exactly how many. There once was a man who lived in a can…”
Guude drifts off with a circle of warmth around his wrist and light chatter in his ears.
*_*_*
Notes: The 404 challenge was basically “play Minecraft w/o torches from a specific seed,” and Guude made a series for it waaay back. In RPG Kingdom AU (I’ve set a few of my stories in it, just most not obviously), Phorofor was a colony sent way out of (former) King Notch’s territory, trying to establish a foothold in a newly discovered region. Guude was a Lord of Phorofor until the horrific Lost Link Tragedy, wherein nature itself seemed to turn against them. A terrible storm raged continually over their heads, ripping away torch and house alike. They found shelter in caves, but the monsters in them were attracted to the light and swarmed them. The ones that could stand the light would douse their torches, so that the ones that couldn’t could attack as well. Very few colonists survived long enough for rescue to reach them, and those that did (who were of age) were knighted by (former) King Notch when they returned to the kingdom as Knights of the Lost Link. (King Notch eventually turned his eyes to other things, ascending to Godhood. His duties were taken up by Prince Regent Jeb, who now rules as King Jeb jointly with the Small Council of Soft.)
no subject
Date: Sunday, October 25th, 2015 09:18 pm (UTC)A nice little story you've brought us here =D
Interestingly enough, as a reader, you could feel the parts of the story that were 'cold' and those that were 'warm'. You did a good job, with how diffrent it felt.
At first I was wondering where Guude's fear of the Darkness was originating from, but the 404 challenge is quite a good idea for that. - As is the bit of lore that you've provided at the end. All in all...I enjoyed this very much ^^
no subject
Date: Sunday, October 25th, 2015 09:30 pm (UTC)Well, I'm so glad that worked out because light/dark and warm/cold were some of the major themes.
I'm so happy to write in this AU, it's mostly just little bits and pieces of lore, but I set the first piece I ever posted on Salad in it and it's a massive nostalgia trip for me.
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Date: Monday, October 26th, 2015 01:28 pm (UTC)-the lurkiest lurker
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Date: Monday, October 26th, 2015 04:24 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: Monday, October 26th, 2015 08:29 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: Monday, October 26th, 2015 09:25 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: Friday, November 6th, 2015 01:32 am (UTC)-spAz, cos she can't bother to login
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Date: Friday, November 6th, 2015 01:48 am (UTC)