He didn't expect to die so quickly.
Scott usually managed to survive a while. Not all the time, mind you, he was only mortal after all, but it just came as a surprise.
When he died, aside from the intense pain that came with being burned alive, Scott could almost feel his bones fracturing. Which was strange since he no longer had any bones to break. It was as if, in his third death, he had died as a Transporter too.
He felt a baby zombie sink its teeth into his non-existent flesh. Its fists collliding with his ribs. He felt that, as well.
Scott tried to shake the feeling off. He wasn't a Fungal Mage anymore. It was a new life, a different life. He wasn't like the others before him.
It was as if he was being pulled apart and pieces of him were scattered through lives he'd lived in the past. Glimpses of a sword thrust through his heart in snowy mountains, of dying to a friend's hand, of standing atop a mound of TNT and lighting it.
Of waking up in the flower fields again with a blurred face smiling at him.
Shivers crawled over his body.
He was dead now, wasn't he?
An emptiness crept inside him. The others would be gone soon. Properly gone. Would he be the last one left?
Scott thought about Sausage, his new life as an assassin. Of all his friends. Jimmy. Sparrow (although sometimes he thought he was Owen instead. Maybe he just had one of those faces). Lizzie. Martyn. Everyone he had cared about, gone.
Dead. Just like he was.
Something seemed familiar. He couldn't tell what it was.
"Home."
"Are you coming?"
"Martyn!"
"I'm giving you ten seconds to run."
Scott's eyes snapped open.
He hadn't expected to see him like that at first.
A human first. He remembered that. They'd met when he spooked Sparrow whilst he was trying to take pictures of him from afar. Then they had gone into his house to interview him.
Then a copper golem. He was smaller, certainly, and seeing the person he'd known for so long change scared him. What if Sparrow changed? What if he didn't like him much anymore? People changed when they died, he knew that much.
But he didn't. Not really. He was mostly the same person.
And now, Sparrow was...whatever he is now. Some sort of sculk creature.
Scott rubbed his temples, trying to ease the aching.
The spores floating around him dispersed a little and he let out an annoyed growl, stamping the ground and digging his foot into the dirt.
Lifting his shoe back up, he realised he'd broken the mycellium he'd surrounded the sculk in.
He sighed.
Sparrow mentioned opening doors when he was in his head. Had he actually...? No, he couldn't have. Surely. That was a huge invasion of privacy. He wouldn't do that.
Recalling the sensation sent shivers down his spine.
Best to ignore it.
It was spreading. His colony was growing every day. Bit by bit, it was expanding out of the corners he had planted them in and moving out into the daylight.
A smile curled at his lips.
He could feel them all even from the comfort of his home. Tiny tendrons snaking forwards. Miniscule mushrooms bursting out of the ground.
Everything was going according to plan.
---
Gem was the first, that he knew of, to notice.
Mushrooms were just...growing! Behind the house she'd made in her first life!
Really, they shouldn't be growing there. It wasn't the right habitat and there were no other patches of them elsewhere nearby.
Someone must have put them there. Surely.
Although, there was a huge amount of them. How had she not seen them before? It wasn't that well hidden. Not when they peeked out into her line of sight rather prominently.
Perhaps she should get rid of them. Or at least build something to keep them contained.
She didn't want them getting any closer.
---
The others had large patches, too.
Jimmy's patch of mushrooms were a stark contrast to the pinks and whites of his area. The dull grey of the mycellium was obvious against the emerald grass surrounding it, and the mushrooms were rather out of place amongst the flowers.
fWhip had a decent amount as well, perhaps the biggest of all of them. He didn't seem to notice them yet. Good. His area was large enough that they'd probably stay hidden for a while longer.
And Sausage? Obviously there were a couple mushrooms there as well! Hopefully, like fWhip, he wouldn't notice them just yet. The mushrooms there had grown considerably. It'd be a shame if he found them and took them down.
---
Of course if any of them did dare hurt them, Scott would retaliate.
Gaia be damned. She'd appreciate it, really. He was helping!
He sat in his home, taking a bite out of a cabbage roll that he didn't need to eat anymore. The taste was bland, nothing like how it had been in his last life as a transporter. Most food had lost its appeal.
The mushrooms outside his house were slowly beginning to creep down towards the rest of his area.
Perfect.
Scott could feel the mushrooms.
Every tiny nook and cranny that he could place them in wasn't safe to the eyes of his brethren. Through them he could see. Through them he could hear. Through them he could feel.
There was no privacy in the colony. Everything was shared. That way no one had to deal with things alone.
But that also meant that Scott's pain was shared with the entire colony. His anguish, his agony, his sorrow. Every mushroom in his colony felt it and resonated with it.
He hated it. Hated how miserable he made his colony feel.
But as quickly as it'd come, the hatred would dissipate as the mushrooms soothed him with gentle words. His mind would be lulled into silence with their tender tune of love and adoration; because why wouldn't they adore him? Not many fungal mages roamed the lands anymore. They were few; a tiny sub-populace, a dying minority that would fade away.
The colony couldn't let him be destroyed by his sadness. He was the one spreading their power across the world. So they treated him like the blessing he was.
Scott sat on the mycellium outside his house, one hand tenderly stroking the ground and humming a small melody.
"How are you settling in? Hmm. That's good. I was worried that Martyn's Dollop would be a bit hard to adjust to. It's nice to know you're doing well. Oh? Don't tell me you just learned about the Coliny. They're nice, I promise. Yes, I know, you'll be fine! They aren't competition. They are just... frozen creepers? Yeti creepers? Something like that."
The mycellium around him spoke in a mixture of tones and voices.
"Oh no, I doubt Martyn will find you too quickly. He'll take a while at least. Probably a couple weeks. Maybe some months. He isn't as dense as I'd like him to be, but he's dumb enough."
He felt their worry. Their fear of discovery. And at that he shook his head and tutted.
"Don't fret, my babies. If he does try to uproot you or hurt you..." He trailed off and glared at the sinking sun. "I'll show the fury of the colony. Every single one of his colins shall fall."
It was a promise. The sun, the moon and the blinking stars were his witnesses.
"What's this about killing my colins?"
"Oh. Martyn." Scott stood up and greeted the chillager. "How are you? Is there something you need?"
"Nah, just passing through," Martyn waved him off. "Although, what happened to your last origin?"
"I died."
"I know that! What are you now? How'd you die?"
He shrugged. "Fell. But now I'm even better! I'm a fungal mage!"
Martyn tilted his head like a puzzled puppy. "What's that?"
Scott didn't give him an answer. "I'm not alone now. I have my colony! No matter where I go, as long as I have mycellium, they are with me as well. It's wonderful! Nothing is private anymore! I don't need to worry about secrets! Or going through things alone!"
"I-"
"You'd love it Martyn. It's like never losing your inner child. Like always being able to cling to the parts of you that you love most. I have help for every problem!"
"This doesn't seem healthy." Martyn stepped forward and placed his hand on Scott's cheek. "Are you sure you're alright?" His touch was cold, but it didn't bother him. Scott leaned into it.
"Perfectly fine!"
Martyn's lips tugged down for a second, but returned to a thin line of indifference.
"I'd best be off."
"See you later!" Scott smiled, waving as his friend went away.
---
"He's not okay."
"What do you think it is?"
"He kept mentioning a colony. Acted as if he had a psychic connection with them as long as he had mycellium."
"Hmm. Check everyone's bases. There might be stuff there."
"You sure? What if we're just, y'know, overestimating this? It might just be harmless."
"I doubt it."
"Fine. I'll start looking."
My ideas for (some) of the creators in New Life as heroes or villains.
Heroes:
Jimmy - 'Cold Guy'
Gem - 'Inferno'
Sausage - 'Phoenix'
Owen/Sparrow - 'Copper'
Jimmy can manipulate ice to obtain super speed as well as create icy barriers to shield himself and others. Some joke that his abilities and Martyn''s are so similar that they could be siblings, but Jimmy refuses to divulge whether or not he was born with his powers.
Gem can control and manipulate fire. She accidentally burned fWhip with it when they were children and has never forgiven herself for it since. She believes he is dead.
Sausage can also manipulate fire, but unlike Gem, he can use it to fly as well as being able to heal people in a close radius to him. As a result, he chooses to fight long-range to avoid accidentally healing the villains he's fighting.
Sparrow is more durable and can fight longer than the others, as well as needing less rest and food. He tends to go on nightly patrols because of this. He stays away from Scott as they were friends as children.
Villains:
Scott - 'Mycellium'
Martyn - 'Blizzard'
Pearl - 'Golem'
fWhip - 'Trickster'
Scott has the power to summon and control fungi, and can grow them on people and animals to control them. In the past he used his ability on Jimmy, and Jimmy now has a scar on his chest from it.
Martyn can control ice to make himself impervious to attacks. He, like Jimmy, refuses to reveal how he got his powers, but for very different reasons. Martyn has scars all over his body and only Scott knows the reason for them.
Pearl has the same abilities as Sparrow and uses them so that she can carry out the harder work with less risk (e.g: bigger heists with higher risk of injury, taking on cops/vigilantes whilst the others continue what they're doing). She refuses to fight Sausage, but can't recall or explain why.
fWhip can shrink himself and uses this ability for breaking and entering, as well as stealing. Gem believes he died, but in truth he just shrank himself and ran away. He hasn't told her the truth, but holds nothing against her.
So what do you think? Who else could be a hero/villain? Any interesting backstory ideas?
The vines dug into his skin sometimes. An unhelpful reminder of what he had lost.
They were like chains, in a way.
He tried not to think about it. Tried not to think about how his hair changed; from a bright cyan to a pale ivory tainted with blotches of red.
Every time he passed a body of water and gazed at his reflection, he couldn't help but think he looked familiar. He remembered fangs, long and pointed and sometimes uncomfortable in his mouth. He recalled how similar his cloud jump was to abilities he'd long forgotten; sometimes he'd jump up into the air and think about switching places with an angel.
But, as far as he knew, no one on the server was an angel. No one he knew closely.
Sometimes he would feel hungry. Phantom-hunger, if you will. Because he didn't need to eat anymore. But he'd still wish he could eat.
He'd probably kill to be able to enjoy the taste of cabbage rolls or pumpkin soup.
Would probably kill himself in order to get it.
As he sat on the balcony of his house, staring at the starry sky, he remembered.
He didn't remember anything specific; all the memories were murky, and most of the faces were blurred to the point where they couldn't be recognised. But he took note of other details. Like cod, cats called Norman, fields of poppies. Kingdoms of snow and golden antlers. Of rat tails, attics and giant feline catastrophes. Of necromancy, loneliness and dances with time.
They all mixed together in a strange cocktail of memories that both were and weren't his.
Scott clutched at an ache in his chest; a yearning for knowledge.
He sighed and looked up at the sky. Running his tongue along his teeth, he could almost imagine feeling fangs. But they weren't there. Because he was a fungal mage.
His hands itched. The pain of hurting a mob - he couldn't be bothered to remember which one - pulsed through his veins. Gaia had cursed him in that moment. He'd hurt someone, betrayed being a 'peace keeper' and paid the price for it.
How many people had he upset in the past?
Gaia, goddess of the earth. Mother Nature. She had given birth to the Titans and Giants. A powerful entity that was not to be messed with under any circumstances.
There were others, too. In a past life long ago, he'd killed an angel. And as a result, he was cursed to burn in the sun.
His own patron god, Aeor, and his brother Exor. How long had he been a devoted worshipper of the Stag Gods? How much of his life had he dedicated to following Aeor's wishes, to pleasing him, to keeping people safe, for nothing? Because he did everything in the end. He was the one to seal the demon away at the cost of his own life. And neither of the gods batted an eye.
He'd upset Them, too. Hundreds of pairs of eyes that Watched eternally. They despised him because he refused to play Their games properly. So he was made to constantly outlive his closest allies. Other than one.
Scott was a danger. To himself and to everyone around him.
The vines - nay, chains - dug into his skin.
He deserved them. He deserved the chains, for they were keeping him from hurting others. A criminal, a thief, a killer - all of those titles belonged to him - deserved the chains that kept them contained. That shackled them to their crimes.
He took a glance at the moon, and the stars surrounding it.
The moonlight shone down on him in a warm embrace. As did the stars.
The stars seemed to form a halo around Scott's head.
Scott curled up and allowed his eyes to droop shut.
Gaia's curse, as all the other curses placed upon him, would never leave him.
Some people thought that being given a new origin, a new chance at life, was painful. Essentially, their DNA was being rewritten at an impossible speed to comprehend. Blood would boil ferociously like torrential waves in a storm, skin would bubble and burst, bones would crack and pop. Organs would shift proportions and positions to accommodate new things; additional or less organs than before, larger internal power sources.
Others thought it was painless. A pain that would never be felt. Their bodies would go numb to anything except for a faint tingling that ran through them like miniature jolts of electricity.
It was both, and neither.
---
Jimmy knew it well. He knew the cold clutches of the Void, an endless expanse that none could run from. He knew the wandering eyes that spectated everything he did. Knew the ears that pried in on every conversation, every tiny and insignificant sound. Knew the voices that whispered, buzzing with a variety of emotions, mostly excitement.
For once, he could feel the phantom burden of heavy wings on his back. Bright yellow, practically glowing, and fluffy.
Canary wings.
Hands glided across his skin with light and feathery caresses.
The voices all said the same thing: Mine. Mine. You belong to us. You are ours. Our little canary. Your life is ours.
A shiver ran down Jimmy's spine.
Because he was theirs, wasn't he? They moulded him. He was made to be whatever they wanted. They were the gods and he was the human they sculpted out of clay.
So even when their touches hurt, even when they got possessive, he did nothing.
What was a mortal to a god?
---
Sparrow couldn't remember the last fragments of his life as a human. Perhaps that was for the better.
It must have been painful. Right? It didn't seem like a painless process. Even though he couldn't feel much anymore, he could still feel a phantom ache in his chest where is lungs once were. His body was smaller. Colder, due to the copper metal of his skin. Not human at all.
A machine. Just like the ones he used to make.
It was ironic, really. The creator became the created.
The dullness in his body would never leave him. Like a parasite that latched onto him and refused to relinquish its grip. A constant reminder of what he did in order to become one of them.
Because that was all he wanted, wasn't it?
To be one of them.
---
Scott couldn't really comprehend it.
The Void encapsulated him. Accommodated him. It let him teleport to his heart's content, even if everything was the same ever-stretching expanse of darkness.
Sometimes he wished he could still feel the nausea from teleporting. To feel something, anything, other than emptiness.
But that wasn't an option.
He could feel his body being changed. Pointed ears, antlers growing from his skull, gills and fins, a gold eye that saw magic, scars on his arms from an injury he couldn't remember, a long rat's tail, sharpened canines. Blurred flickering memories. Hundreds of weird mutations, an amalgamation of parts.
The strings of each world were wrapped around him in a suffocating embrace.
And then he was reborn.
This wasn't good.
Not in the point of view for the court, anyways. Killing the person who decided to sue you wasn't a good look. At all. It just made him look really guilty and...pretty much made him lose any chance he'd had of avoiding being sued.
Ah well.
To be fair, he usually marked lots of things, and he'd completely forgotten about...that. It just wasn't very memorable! The guy sued him for counts of murder (that weren't accurate, he'd killed more animals than that) and for having a scottish accent, as well as a lack of empathy towards animals.
Well, he was sorry for the creatures that had to put up with him. Sorry for the animals that everyone on the server practically kidnapped and shoved into a pen to breed until it wasn't good enough, and then slain.
He certainly wasn't the worst person on the server. After all, Jimmy had put his sheep in his already-cramped house, as well as replacing parts of his floor with dirt and using it to grow crops. He'd helped fWhip and Sausage with grabbing those villagers! A tiresome affair really, especially with all the countless teleporting he did.
Maybe, if he played his cards right, he could find a way around this like he could with getting out of sticky situations. Mark a few people, do enough scare-teleports and perhaps he can get some friends to help him out. Forcibly, if the need arose.
He wasn't going to let himself go down that easy.
---
He was furious!
The darkness had suffocated him, a stark contrast to where he'd been before. The squelching sculk underfoot clawed at his ankles in an angered grasp, squeezing and scratching. The Warden barrelled towards him, the souls trapped within its chest pulsing brightly.
He felt his body practically disintegrate. Within moments he was dead and buried. All because he'd been unlucky. Because he'd made the mistake of letting someone mark him, and he'd paid the price for it. He should've kept himself at a distance. Should've made a glass barrier between them. Anything to prevent being marked.
But who was he kidding? The guy gave him gifts before reading the book saying he'd be sued! He'd gulped down the lump of guilt in his throat as everything conspired.
He wouldn't let himself make that mistake a second time. Not again. No, when he respawned he'd be far more careful. If he wasn't, then he may be the first to die permanently. How many lives did he even have left? How many did everyone have left? How much longer did everyone have to live, lives to use up, before inevitably perishing?
He didn't know.
The darkness had suffocated him and spat him out.
The Nether was truly perilous.
Two lives had been lost to the cruel domain. It stole and stole the life that organisms thrived upon, and stole even more. The Nether stripped its inhabitants of all things that linked them to any other dimension. The Nether was a horrid entity that hungered for all creatures that wandered in and out of its realm to become one with its lands.
Scott knew this well. But he still needed the resources.
The transporter entered the Nether with a vague knowledge of it. Lava tended to be everywhere, so he couldn't just teleport freely like he could on the Overworld. Monsters of all kinds resided here, too, and there were certain requirements to fulfil in order to ensure he didn't get attacked.
So, hastily crafting a pair of golden boots and pulling them onto his feet, he continued on.
He landed somewhere beautiful. Because whilst the Nether was dangerous and unforgiving, it was beautiful in a way no other dimension could be. Scott had been spat out of his portal in a corner of the Nether with greenish-blue and pearly colours everywhere. The warm hues of the faded light of lava cast contrasting tones of light onto the cool-coloured area.
Looking down at his body, pale and adorned with colours of teal and orange, there was the strange feeling that he somewhat belonged here. As if, somehow, this area was made with him in mind. Or perhaps he had been created in the image of this part of the Nether.
But he wasn't in the right area. So, Scott attempted to return home via the sheep he'd marked before his departure.
...
Nothing. He was just in a different area. The generic part of the Nether, with lava flowing everywhere, the dull crimson of netherrack and the faint growls of creatures.
Scott tried again. Tried teleporting back home again.
Still nothing. There was still lava everywhere. The heat was absolutely scorching. If he'd been Martyn, he probably wouldn't have survived more than a couple minutes.
Well. All he could do now was make his own portal and see where on the Overworld he ended up.
Only, he didn't have obsidian on him. Not enough for a return portal.
This was going to be a long day. Or was it nighttime?
---
Sparrow had been working for hours.
Staring at the machinery, hoping it would assemble itself, he let his mind wander. This may not work. He may not be able to get powers like this. After all, there was no guarantee that he actually was a hybrid.
Although he remembered, before his journey here, that some people used questionable means in order to attain powers. Dangerous ones. Ones that were severely unethical.
But if that was all it took, was it not worth it?
With a tired sigh, he stood up. Sparrow's mind was not in a good place. That was why he was considering something so ridiculous. What good could be done by experimenting on himself? Or any hybrid nearby? All that would come of it would be pain and dead ends.
At least, that was what he'd been taught.
But what if it actually worked? Sure, it was probably rude to kidnap and experiment on your neighbours. But maybe he could take someone who didn't know who he was? That would make it hurt less on both sides. Sparrow couldn't imagine experimenting on the hybrids he knew. Seeing Sausage or Scott in a cage, the colour drained from them, their usually upbeat and chaotic energies dampened by fatigue or whatever things he'd done to them would be horrible.
Even if Sausage had done a lot of bad stuff, Scott was a bit of a nuisance from time to time.
The nicer hybrids he knew would be destroyed. A husk of their former selves. Lifeless.
The thought made him shiver.
Sparrow approached a tree. He'd heard of hybrids with the ability to fly in the past. Maybe he could trigger a reaction by jumping from a tree, or trying to mimic bird behaviours?
Before he could process it, he was already halfway up the tree. He kept going. Sparrow reached the top of the tree. Falling from this height would likely break a limb. Or, in a truly severe case, maybe even kill him if he was careless. The tree was much taller than he had thought.
Without a second thought, Sparrow jumped.
---
Scott had been searching for hours.
His stomach ached painfully. He'd been eating soup and cabbage rolls as his usual diet, but the Nether seemed to make his stomach crave something else. Sure the food replenished his hunger, but it wasn't satisfactory.
By complete accident he had stumbled across an abandoned city. The streets were empty, entirely empty. Empty enough to send shivers sprinting down Scott's spine until he was shivering.
There was something unsettling about the city.
In the Overworld, most villages were teeming with life. They'd have villagers wandering around, joyfully selling their wares in exchange for emeralds. Iron golems would roam freely. The occasional cat would dart around and, if you were lucky, would nuzzle your leg and let you pet them.
But in the Nether this was not the case.
He couldn't do it. Couldn't stay here. Scott had been in a couple houses and taken some dressers, but the air was too stuffy. He couldn't breathe. Everything was so similar but so different at the same time. Maybe he was hallucinating. Maybe he was back home in his bed dreaming.
But no. Scott was stuck in the Nether.
In the distance was a nether fortress.
---
Sparrow almost felt like he was flying.
Wind whipped against his body as he fell. He let out a cry of joy, delighting in the breeze that tickled him gently. The sky embraced him. If he shut his eyes, he could picture himself flying across the sky as the sun set. Warm colours of gold and rosy pinks mingling with the pale cotton clouds.
A content smile curled at his lips.
He spread his arms out wide.
The ground drew nearer and nearer.
He didn't see it. Why would he? With his eyes shut, he could be anywhere doing anything. Why would he confine himself to reality when his imagination was there for him? Sparrow would never have to be a regular human again. He could be anything he wanted with his eyes shut.
And shut they remained.
The ground got closer and closer.
Closer.
The wind finally ceased.
Sparrow's eyes opened.
The ground was there waiting for him.
He screamed. He screamed and screamed because he knew this landing was going to hurt. He screamed because he was an idiot for believing this would work. He screamed because there was nothing else he could do.
He hit the ground.
---
Scott finally got what he came for in the first place.
But the problem he was facing was finding obsidian. Because the nether fortress was huge, and there was almost no way he'd be able to cover every inch of the place alone.
Especially with mobs attacking him.
Eating another cabbage roll, he assembled his thoughts. There wasn't much more he could do other than keep looking. Staying in the Nether was certainly not an option. Scott would rather die than spend another minute here.
If he was really unlucky, that could be arranged for him.
Scott stumbled over his own feet as he ran. He hadn't been hit yet, and he didn't want to let the mobs get a chance to.
Chests were everywhere and contained all sorts of things. Still not enough obsidian. At best he'd managed to find four pieces, but that wasn't enough for a full portal.
He cursed as an arrow narrowly missed him.
Sprinting, he wasted no time in making his escape. The chests could wait until he wasn't in danger.
---
Groaning, Sparrow tried to sit up.
His legs shrieked in protest.
Oh well. That's what he gets for being so reckless.
Sparrow grabs some food and eats it. Feeling slightly better, he surveyed his situation. Broken legs, definite pain in his arms and some minor pain in his back. His neck ached, but his head was mostly okay.
This was the price he'd pay. So he wouldn't complain.
Perhaps he'd just have to try other methods.
A syringe would work, right?
---
Scott finally got his hands on the last bits of obsidian he needed to get home.
With intense eagerness, Scott placed the obsidian down in the formation and lit his flint and steel. There was a whoosh sound, and then the portal had been ignited.
As a goodbye, Scott nodded his head and leapt through the portal.
He felt the familiar nauseating feeling of going through the portal to and out of the Nether. Then, he was back on the Overworld. Back with the sun and grass and water. Back with his house, farms and friends.
Scott didn't have the neergy to go to his bed to sleep.
Curling up on the ground, he allowed himself some rest.
Teleporting into walls didn't really phase him much.
The crippling fear was dead and buried along with the many other hatchets lying six feet under. He no longer was sent into a frenzy when he made a mistake. The walls welcomed him with a suffocating embrace. They gripped him tight and squeezed the air out of his lungs with little to no remorse.
It didn't mean it didn't shock him, though.
Accidentally teleporting into a wall wasn't pleasant. It slammed into him like a bucket of icy water he hadn't been prepared for. But it didn't frighten him. More like a minor inconvenience.
Scott's body tingled as he teleported out from the mound of dirt and grass he'd unintentionally managed to teleport into. He was lucky he wasn't claustrophobic. Being trapped inside the dirt and grass wasn't nice. It was as if he'd been buried alive and couldn't escape. Like no matter how much dirt he clawed his way through, there was always more to get through. He'd never be able to get out. It was just an endless purgatory he could never flee from. The weight of the dirt would crush him.
His knees buckled and he collapsed.
Shaking, Scott tried to stand. His legs seemed uncooperative and refused to hold his weight. Many times he fell to the ground. Many strings of curses passed over his lips and swirled on the breeze.
Eventually he succeeded in standing.
Slowly, he approached his house. The path of grass and dirt underneath his feet served as a reminder. Dirt clung to his clothes. The ground's grubby fingers grabbed at his feet repeatedly. Scott did his best to ignore it. He kept walking, drawing nearer and nearer to the door.
He made it inside.
---
Jimmy still felt himself falling.
It was just meant to have been some friendly revenge. Nothing more.
It wasn't meant to end in him plummeting to his death.
He should have been more careful. He should have watched where he was stepping. He should have been able to make it out unscathed rather than dying.
He was a world class idiot.
Panic had overtaken him. His senses screamed at him to do something over then just freeze. To run. To try and find something in the walls to hold onto. To move in any way possible that meant he might be able to live.
At least he didn't have to feel much more than his body falling.
He died soon after he touched the ground.
But he hadn't been respawned yet. For now, he was floating in some kind of limbo that he couldn't escape from. Just existing. No point or purpose other than to exist. That was all he could do for now. Exist and wait for himself to be reborn as something new.
Maybe the world would be cruel and give him wings or immunity to fall damage.
Or maybe it would make him even more vulnerable to it.
Fate was fickle, but fate was also cruel.
---
Martyn would kill for his colin-y.
The snowy and semi-friendly creepers in boats in his house. He'd slaughter every single person on sight if someone even petted one of them wrong.
And currently, surrounded by their soft snowy coats, their warm eyes and their curled horns, he couldn't be happier.
He could lose them. All of them. The reality of it would never escape him. If one player saw the colin-y and got spooked and attacked when he wasn't around, then they'd be gone. Permanently.
At the thought, he approached Colin E and hugged the snowy creeper tight.
Martyn couldn't afford to lose them.
Any of them.
He hummed quietly, a song he'd heard in passing. He hadn't paid much mind to it before, so many parts of the song were lost, but he recalled the main bits of it. It was far from complete, but it was still a song.
Colin E made a small noise as if joining in with the song.
Smiling foolishly, Martyn's humming crescendoed. Other Colins joined in. He'd made himself a choir of creepers.
He pushed the thoughts of losing them out of his mind.
Martyn was content to be in the moment with them.
Sparrow hadn't been anticipating that his first encounter with that strange man would go like this. To be fair though, it would only have been a matter of time before he was spotted watching him from afar. He probably should've planned a better excuse.
"Argh!" Sparrow shrieked in surprise as the strange man appeared in front of him. Was that his ability? Teleportation? Sparrow scrambled backwards in shock.
"It's rather rude to spy on people," the strange man stated, fluffy cyan hair falling over his eyes. The strange man moved the strands so they didn't block his vision. "Now who might you be, weird person stalking me?"
He faltered in his answer. "Sp-Sparrow," he replied, stuttering madly. "My name's Sparrow. A-a-and you?"
"Scott S. Major!" The man said with a grin. "But you can call me Scott instead."
Sparrow squinted at the rings of energy around Scott's arms. The rings pulsed and glowed faintly with their respective blue and orange lights. What did they feel like? Soft? Hard? Rough? Did they feel like nothing at all? Or maybe water? Sparrow reached his hand out and, before he could even tell what he was doing, gently touched the rings.
There was an instant reaction in Scott. He smiled, pupils dilating like a cat. A low hum escaped his lips. The rings glowed a tad brighter.
Not long after, Sparrow saw a tiny beam of orange particles shoot out from Scott and connect the two of them. The particles dissipated almost immediately.
"What did you do?" he muttered quietly. Sparrow carefully retracted his hand. Some hybrids were dangerous. He couldn't just assume that Scott would be one of the pacifists when so many hybrids caused harm.
"This!" Scott launched himself into the air. Ten, twenty, thirty feet. And still going. Sparrow watched on, his mind archiving every second so he wouldn't forget. He couldn't.
Then Sparrow felt a tugging in his chest. Like a rope being pulled. His hand rose to tap his chest in curiosity.
Before he could blink, Sparrow was flung into the air. Scott now stood where he had previously. Wind whipped against his body as he fell to the ground. Shrieking, his arms flailed wildly. A myriad of high-pitched screams tore from his lips and rang in his ears. He'd misjudged Scott, and now he was gonna die. He was gonna die. He'd die and it'd be his fault for trusting Scott so easily. This wasn't how he wanted to go! Not falling from a height because he hadn't been on his guard.
Sparrow squeezed his eyes shut tight.
He landed.
He...wasn't dead?
Slowly, Sparrow's eyes fluttered open. Scott grinned at him. He looked down and saw that Scott had caught him.
Oh.
Sparrow sprung out of Scott's arms in a frenzy.
"Why would you do that? I could've died!" Sparrow screamed. Scott laughed, a mellifluous and whimsy sound. He kept laughing, tears pricking his eyes and clutching his stomach. Scott's shoulders shuddered with heavy full-body laughter.
"I-I'm sorry, I couldn't r-resist! It's to-too easy!" Scott eventually took several deep breaths, and wiped the tears from his eyes.
Sparrow huffed and folded his arms. "That was rude, y'know."
"How 'bout I make it up to ya then? I can grab some food and we can talk." At the suggestion, Sparrow smiled. This could be his opportunity to interview a hybrid! He could learn how Scott got his powers, how they impacted his lifestyle, and more!
"I'd say it's a deal." Sparrow's wrist was grabbed by Scott, and a ring of orange and blue particles floated around them. The world fell dark, and a brief bout of nausea decided to strike, but when everything was visible again he relaxed.
"Come on in," Scott said, opening the door to his home. "I'll get the cabbage rolls out."
Scott felt tremors in his body. Particles flitted around him like tiny fireflies at night, their tiny lights cast onto his body. The rings of energy on his arms emitted a low hum that filled the silence.
He took a deep breath.
The particles exploded around him, a swirling vortex of blue and orange. Scott's body slowly dissipated, breaking apart into a flurry of the particles that always clung to him. It was never a painful sensation, only slightly tingly. Sometimes there'd be an ache that spread through his limbs, but mostly it was okay. Probably would just take some...getting used to.
He reappeared back at home. From where he stood, Scott could faintly see some of the crops in his farm were nearly fully grown, and a content smile curled at his lips. Like the others, he was starting with nothing and building up from there.
Someone ran towards him. A familiar someone. Someone dressed in a thick and warm blue coat with a fur-lined hood. Someone with blond hair and bright cornflower blue eyes. A grin curled at their lips as they approached.
"Scott!"
"Hi Martyn," Scott replied. "How are you?"
"Good, good." A pregnant pause settled over the two of them.
"Wanna help me farm? I could do with an extra pair of hands." Scott gestured at the farm loosely, mostly focused on Martyn's expression.
"Sure! Happy to help."
The two of them jumped over the (admittedly quite low) fence surrounding the farm. Hefting a hoe over his shoulders, Scott strode towards the cabbages and started from there. In his peripheral vision, he spotted Martyn over near the tomatoes.
As crops were harvested and seeds were planted, Scott's eyes kept drifting over to Martyn. Something about him felt familiar.
Scott resurfaced, water beaded across his skin. His clothes were soaked, his hair too, but he couldn't bring it in himself to care. A man sat on the edge of an island, legs dangling over the edge and kicking rhythmically in the water. Scott swam over, his gills fanning out and tail swishing in mischievous mirth as he wrapped his hand around the man's ankle and yanked him into the water.
"Scott!" The man spluttered, coughing up water. Scott grinned in response and wrapped his arms around the man with an airy laugh.
"Sorry, I couldn't resist," He looked up at the man's eyes. His reflection stared back. Scott's hand cupped the man's cheek. Both struggled to remain afloat; their legs kicked relentlessly, but got tangled together too often for both to continue to stay above the water's surface.
Scott swam over to the island and clambered back onto solid ground, the man in tow behind him. When both were on the island, Scott's arms were wrapped around his neck, the man's wrapped around his waist. The two let out a satisfied sigh. After a few moments, their lips pressed together for a second, and parted as soon as they'd come together.
Scott swung his hoe again. It swept the cabbages up quickly, and he scooped them up from the ground and into his inventory. Hastily replanting the seeds, he glanced over at Martyn. He seemed done with the tomatoes, and was already halfway through the potatoes. Scott went to join him.
"You okay? You seem tired." Martyn said, ever observant.
"I'm fine. Besides it's not nighttime yet."
"Did you sleep?" Scott nodded. "Okay. Good. Well, maybe we could take a break. I've not been inside your house yet. Maybe you can give me a tour?"
"Okay. Follow me." Scott put the hoe back in his inventory. The two of them jumped back over the fence and walked around to Scott's door.
Their footsteps came to a halt simultaneously. Scott's hand pushed the door open, and they both stepped inside.
"So...nice house," Martyn remarked within seconds. "It looks nice."
Scott hummed in response. "Thanks."
He took another look at Martyn. There was something familiar about him, but he couldn't quite place it yet. It was like the feeling he often got with Jimmy, only he'd think about hobbit houses, flower crowns and a pufferfish with a misspelt name.
Martyn was like the sea air, coral and loyalty. Like warmth, protection and joy. But that couldn't be true. The Martyn Scott knew was cold, but jovial. He froze, not warmed. He didn't supply comfort on a lonely night riddled with nightmares of explosions, arrows piercing his body or lightning ripping through him. He was the mountains surrounding his kingdom, the ice he could control and rip through houses with. Martyn wasn't the kindness of a flower field or the brightness of a town bursting with cuddly llamas and colours. He was the snow you made snowmen with, the snowstorms you hid from in your home with a blanket and a cup of hot cocoa.
Scott was shaken from his thoughts as Martyn handed him cooked pork and sat with him to eat. He smiled, taking a bite into the food and smiling at the warmth filling his mouth. Martyn, freezer, bringer of the cold and a being of ice, had been able to bring Scott warmth indirectly.
Martyn laughed at nothing in particular. Scott laughed with him.