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.