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Grian doesn’t have any friends, and that really shouldn’t bother him as much as it does. Yet, still, he’s found himself longing for companionship.
It’s necessary in this death game to have allies, he knows that well. Without someone to watch your back, when the reds start to get bloodthirsty, it could spell certain death. They’ll be able to sneak up on you, hunt you like a wolf chasing its prey, and when your wounds don’t recover this time around, that can be incredibly bad. It’s best to have allies, so maybe that’s the reason he’s been so desperate. He just doesn’t want to die. Or, maybe, it’s that he needs an anchor, someone to keep him grounded instead of letting him lose himself to the isolation. He’s never felt so lonely since he became a Watcher.
He had even rushed after Joel the first second he got his task, the one that said they had to share damage. It was almost like being soulbound, but without the actual tie that made it so you could feel every ache your soulmate had. In some way, Grian was thankful for that part. It would’ve brought back a lot of memories he should most definitely not be thinking about had it been present, so it was probably for the best that losing his hearts because of Joel was just a task. Still, the nature of it meant he knew he had to tell Joel as soon as possible, which, to be fair, wasn’t all bad. Being soulbound meant having a friend, so maybe he wouldn’t be so alone anymore.
Even so, he had tried desperately not to think of the familiarity of the situation.
And because Grian doesn’t have any friends, he clung to that tether as hard as he could. He tried to follow Joel everywhere, panicking when he’d leave, and sunk into the aching sense of deja vu. “You need to be kept safe ,” Grian had told him when they first realized the reality of the situation they were in, and he tried to ignore how every step he took in this little dance of his reminded him of lush jungle grass at his talons.
Turns out, it’s a lot harder to just forget soulmates. He realizes that now, sitting at the edge of the cliff his base is on. Ever since he failed his task and Joel turned yellow, he’d been thinking about the similarities, no matter how much he didn’t want to.
It’s just that there was something about Joel that reminded him of Scar without the everlasting regret behind it, the type forged back in that ring of cacti, a lifeless body shielded from the sun resting under his wings.
It’s mainly being that Joel is reckless, he had been ever since they started this round of the death game they’ve all been trapped in. Scar is too, Grian knows that. Honestly, he’s surprised he isn’t already yellow by now. There’s the fun of being able to do whatever he wants with Joel, too, but it’s not like either of them are red at the moment. If he tries hard enough to remember, which he certainly does not, he can remember the same feeling with Scar. He can also remember the same fear clutching his chest when Joel fell from that 100 block jump, the type that once hit him when Scar rushed after his Jellie Pandas back in the spring. And on top of all that, there was the matter of being essentially soulbound….
He sighs. Whatever, it doesn’t matter anymore. He still couldn’t make a friend out of his task. No matter how hard he tried, Joel had just run off, and always seemed annoyed. “He was never going to stay, anyway,” a part of his mind whispers, and he brushes the thought away. He’ll just have to go looking for someone else, then. That is, if everyone isn’t already paired up.
He glances down at the beginnings of a town in the distance, the place Scar has started to set up. It isn’t large yet, just that courthouse and his main base, Trader Scar’s. Gazing down at it only serves to provide a vivid memory to his mind: he’d seen that look in Scar’s eyes earlier, back when he told Grian he was going to offer him a property to stay at down in that little town. That look had begged “please, stay with me ,” and for but a moment, Grian had wondered if Scar was just as alone as he was.
He’s done everything to try forget it. Scar could find other teammates too! It didn’t have to be him again, not after being soulbound, not after the desert…
Still, he finds his mind wandering back to those autumn days as chilling wind blows against him. If he focuses hard enough, he can feel the sand that used to get in his wings, and the frigidity of the desert at night. If he were to fully immerse himself in that line of thought (which he certainly does not ), he can imagine all too vividly looking into mesmerizing scarlet red eyes, the same belonging to a man holding a gathered bouquet of lilacs and poppies.
Grian grumbles, forcing himself back to the present. He can’t think like that, if he starts thinking about it, he’ll remember all the things like the scent of sandalwood that always clung to Scar, and all the times it got too cold to be alone. He’ll remember the feeling of feathers held in gentle hands, he’ll remember shared warmth, and—
He really needs to stop. Void, these thoughts are dangerous. Honestly, he’s probably just going crazy from the isolation at this point. He’s really never been this lonely before. There isn’t a reason to be thinking about Scar, he reminds himself, taking a breath and attempting to regain his composure. If he doesn’t think about it, it’s fine. Then, he doesn’t have to remember all the ways it went wrong. How they always go wrong.
In the distance, the avian sees the person occupying his thoughts retreat into his base for the night without a word. Grian deflates as he watches him, like he was hoping for something, at the very least. A wave would be nice.
Okay, he’s definitely going crazy if he’s thinking things like that now. It’s probably best he sleeps it off for the night, so he makes the move to do exactly that.
Turns out as well that just sleeping it off doesn’t solve all problems. He wakes to the autumn wind blowing orange and yellow leaves past the front of his base, and the ever-persistent pangs of loneliness in his chest. It clings to him like an oppressive weight, the feeling of being buried under the sands.
He really needs to start getting friends.
He heaves himself up, and eventually slips out into the cold wind. He can see the town in the distance, and for a moment, something in his mind tells him to go there.
Quickly, he snaps himself out of it. He is not taking the first step in their dance. He is not going to lead, not going to succumb to the temptation.
And yet, a poppy stands at his side on the cliff, the scarlet red petals catching his sight. For a moment, he remembers the way the color contrasted beautifully against pale sands and lilacs, and then there was—
Ugh, fine. Maybe he’ll pay Scar a visit. Only one. There’s no need for anything more than that.
He makes his way down the bridge connecting his cliff to the savanna below, where Trader Scar’s is located. Seeming as that’s his former ally’s base, Grian finds it the easiest place to check. It’s not like it’s far in the morning, and tasks aren’t being given out right now, so Scar couldn’t have gone far, if anywhere.
He slowly pushes the door open, stepping into the dimly lit room. Everything looks the same as it usually does, or at least, it looks the same as it did the last time he was here. A faint memory of arguing with Scar over who was to trade a golden apple for a heart comes to mind, but he pushes it away.
“Scar?” Grian calls. He hopes that if Scar is anywhere in the back of this place, he might hear him. In response, the avian is only met with silence. He can feel the seconds slowly drag on, sand falling through the metaphorical hourglass, and he silently groans. Of course.
He calls Scar’s name again, louder this time, and he’s halfway through some empty threat when the back door suddenly opens, and he’s met face-to-face with the man of the hour. Scar grins, and quickly slips over to the counter. “Grian! Hi, I didn’t expect anyone this early. What brings a solo adventurer like you down to Trader Scar’s? Anything you’d like to bargain?”
He’s speaking in that dramatic voice again, the type Grian’s come to know over four death games that when paired with the salesman’s grin means that either a, Scar is about to try to scam you, or b, that he’s doing his whole ‘bit’ again. Point is: it’s always at least partially a mask in some way, especially with how Grian easily notices the pattern in his speech.
“I don’t really have anything,” he replies, a short way out he hopes will buy him some time. “I just thought I might stop by.” He hates the way loneliness stirs in his chest, the type that sings for a friend, the type that keeps repeating ‘ ScarScarScar’ over and over in the back of his mind. He averts his gaze, and hopes in every possible way that the feeling doesn’t shine in his emerald green eyes.
Maybe Scar knows. The salesman grin shifts to one much more soft, more genuine, one Grian recognizes from days spent out in the desert, and the avian can hear him chuckle. “This early? I thought you’d be halfway across the server by now, chasing after Joel.”
He probably would be, given that Joel hadn’t seemed so annoyed, and wasn’t yellow. He was generally more concerned about the second part, he doesn’t want any task he has given away. “I’m over Joel,” he manages.
Scar helpfully supplies a small “Ah,” and they fall into silence. Grian dares not look in Scar’s eyes, lest he let him see what he really doesn’t want to show. Even so, Scar tries to start the conversation between them again, “While you’re here, I just wanted to say… about that property I offered you? That’s still open, if you want to take it.”
He really shouldn’t. It never ends well. “Scar, I already have a base.”
“C’mon, Grian!” Scar says, and Grian tries not to think about how he can hear the salesman mask be slipped back on. “Think of all the things you’d be close to! You can come here if you need supplies, go to the courthouse if you need to settle a dispute—“
“Scar—“
“Griaaan. You’re a businessman! We know how these things work.”
For a moment, the avian looks back at Scar, where behind the mask, the gaze in the trader’s eyes screams “Please, don’t leave me alone.” He surprises himself the most with the fact he considers it, if only for a moment.
It’s a horrible idea, it really is. But then again, Grian would be lying if he said part of him didn’t like the familiarity. It’s easier to dance when you know the steps, when you know just the way your partner would catch you if you fell. “How much would you pay me for it? If we’re really ‘businessmen’.”
Scar’s eyes light up, and in an instance, the mask is off. “I’ll give you my heart!”
“I’ll take that,” Grian replies. If he’s going to in on this, he might as well go big, and see how far he can get. He smirks, continuing, “But… it still doesn’t seem entirely fair…”
Grian delights in the way Scar’s expression shifts to the kind where he knows he’s really thinking, humming, searching for a solution. It’s almost like he’s desperate for Grian to say yes, a promise that means that even for a little while, he’ll stay. Grian isn’t lost on the way it feels like scorching desert sun in his mind.
“I’ll give you my heart and a golden apple..?” Scar offers.
Grian’s smirk only grows. He makes some kind of hum of acknowledgment, long and exaggerated so he can pull at least one more reaction out of Scar. “Aaand?”
“…A heart, a golden apple, and some thank-you flowers..? For making the town more lively?”
‘The town,’ not ‘ my town.’ Almost like someday it could be ‘our town.’ Probably not, but still, some part of him he doesn’t want to acknowledge likes the thought. Somehow, Grian finds himself smiling, genuine and clear. “Fine. Deal. One house.”
Maybe having Scar as a brief ally wouldn’t be that bad, but it may take some time to test the waters. He knows how they tick in games like these, forever wrapped in the other. Things could very easily go wrong, especially if they stay around each other longer than they should.
Little does he know, he’s already fallen into the same dance again, where someday Scar would be at his side, flowers cradled in gentle hands. Maybe nothing changes after all.