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Avery hums to himself, clutching a bundle of foraged supplies in his arms. He absentmindedly trots towards his shabby wooden hut, whistling a tune to himself. He told himself he’d sort out the whole creepy book thing, but one Skywars match and an impulsive run for fresh fruit later had sidetracked him.
Now, though, he’s determined to figure this out! This is how super cool mystery movies start! He walks through the sparse blossoming field, small flecks of pink petals falling on his antennae. He shakes them off with a determined hum, skipping a little faster now. He’s got to get this done! He kicks up small pink flowers and other debris on the ground, suddenly stopping when he hears a loud crunch.
Did he step on a stick?
He looks down at his sandals, then turns around to see if any critters are near him, only to be greeted by… another person? Something terrible twists in his gut, telling him this will only bring trouble, but he decides to suspend his belief for a moment.
His antennae twitch cautiously as he stares back at the stranger, who staggers upwards.
“Avery!” They call, starting to approach faster. Avery’s heart drops. Oh no. All those times he’s been a little too cocky on Skywars have finally caught up to him and one of his victims is finally here to hunt him down, except without the magic of the realm allowing him to respawn. This was the real deal!
Avery yelps, dropping a few sweet berry branches as he begins to high-tail himself out of the pink forest. The warm spring air brushes past him in gentle swoops, blowing a few blossoms into his face. He momentarily glances behind him to see the limping, golden warrior desperately trying to keep up.
“Eep!” Avery squeaks to himself.
Unfortunately, he’s too busy running around like a headless chicken staring behind itself to decipher that the stranger is trying to warn him of the large cherry tree he’s about to crash into. He turns around, eyes widening when the first thing he sees is reddish, splintered bark waiting for him. He tries to dig his heels into the dirt to stop himself, but his body is already in motion and he slams face-first into the tree. Thank everything for his lack of proper pain receptors, but unfortunately, he still doubles over in light-headed shock and lands backwards onto his rear.
His supplies scatter across the ground and he weakly flops onto his back. His hands wobble slightly as he rubs his eyes, only to be met with the stranger standing over him, appearing equally exhausted and injured as Avery despite NOT face-planting into a tree. The sun reflects right off of their stained armor, almost blinding Avery. They let out a ragged sigh, suddenly collapsing next to him. Avery jumps up, raising his arms defensively.
“I’m sorry!!! I swear I didn’t—mean… to…?” he pauses, realizing the guy just passed out. He grabs one of his branches from the ground and pokes him a few times to minimal response. He slowly scoots closer, turning him over with a hefty shove, surprised by the small amount of force needed to move him. How much does this guy weigh?
His eyes widen slightly at the large red streak trailing from beneath his helmet to his chest, as if blood had erupted from his face, or something. He waves a hand in the air, trying to forget the gross and extremely unrealistic visuals in his head as he tries to piece together what could’ve happened or who this guy even is. As the last of his adrenaline leaves his system, he thinks of what to do next.
There’s been so many weird things happening lately. This bloodied stranger who magically knew his name could be another puzzle piece! He glances to his dropped fruits for a moment. He grabs a few and pockets as much as he can carry before moving to the barely breathing knight. Gladiator? Warrior? He can’t tell. Maybe he’s just a regular guy (well, as regular as anything about his situation could be) who likes old-fashioned stuff.
He brushes a few petals off of him and slowly slips one arm under his legs and another across his shoulder blades. He tenses his body in exertion, lightly jostling him as it takes him an embarrassingly long time to try and carry an underweight stranger. He huffs, legs shaking when he finally hauls them into a half-assed bridal carry. When did gold become so heavy? He thought it was the weak stuff!
As long as he can make it to his humble abode before night time. Nothing screams ‘mobs come attack me!’ more than a tall, shimmery stranger passed out in his arms, who is slowing him down significantly. He would’ve tried to pretend to be a hostile slime to sneak. by, but last time he did that, it didn’t take work and he ran to a nearby village, only to almost flattened by an iron golem who had mistaken him for the very thing he tried to pretend to be.
Avery trudges down his yellowed path home, which is worn into the earth by repeated travel, dragging his legs beneath him at a painful pace. A part of him begs to just let this weird guy pass on, but he justifies to himself that this is not only a good workout for him (despite having no muscle), but it would be a bit inhumane. Oh, also, the weird book stuff. That too. He tries to distract himself by humming a catchy tune and letting his mind wander off elsewhere. He whistles a fuzzy, semi-remembered tune from his childhood and lets his eyes lazily trace the faintly orange horizon.
A couple hundred blocks later, he finally gets close enough to his house that he feels comfortable dropping the unconscious stranger to the ground. He tries his best to be careful in case there are any lingering injuries, but he accidentally lets him drop to the ground anyway.
"Sorry!" he apologizes to no answer. He kneels down, listening for breathing in case he magically killed him upon impact. To his relief, a muddled rasp can be heard from his throat. It sounds strangled, like his voice box was stuck underwater and fighting desperately to stay afloat.
Avery grabs him by his legs and kicks open his door, dragging him inside. He exhales loudly, wiping sweat-like beads of green residue from his face. A few specks of dirt float in the air as he sits down on the grass floor of his barely put together hut. He glances out the single window, which is just a hole punched in the wall, and sees the sun just beginning to set. Whew! Record time. Now, just to try and fix everything.
His face scrunches as the usual smell of dirt and grass is wafted away by something more foul. Blood, and maybe a bit of vomit? He cups his hands over his antennae, looking to the source. Of course. The... guy. If the mobs wouldn't see him, they'd definitely smell his buddy. He turns to his small chest nestled comfortably in the square home's corner and absentmindedly flings it open. He drops his fruits in with everything else, but he keeps one apple in his palm in case his guest is hungry. With his other hand, he rummages around for maybe some sort of potion or miracle cure he could use to help. Fortunately, one slim vial of regeneration reveals itself at the bottom of his chest. Looks like something from the hub that he meant to equip, but forgot. He swishes its contents around before approaching the man.
He sets his supplies on the floor and loops his hands under the man's arms, pulling his limp body up and setting him against the wall. He swears he hears some sort of swear or whisper slither from his agape mouth, but he's not sure. He slowly slides off his helmet, eyes widening slightly at the sight. Not only was he super rugged (and cool!), but he looked terrible. He grimaces.
As he had predicted, a large stain runs from his mouth to his neck, which appears to be a mix of blood and vomit. Mostly blood. A crimson streak also runs from one of his nostrils. It only serves to give Avery more questions, but he can wait until his compatriot is awake. He pulls his thin locs back out of the way, accidentally brushing the small feathery ears on the top of his head. He leans his face upward and pours the liquid in his throat. He tries to adjust his mouth to get him to swallow, but his patient starts to twitch and mumble frantically. Avery backs up, eyes widening. Is this how that one mad scientist felt?
"Uh... everything okay?"
He tenses when the words become more panicked, half-gargled from the not yet swallowed potion in his throat, which quickly turns to a coughing fit and the man's eyes fly open. He lurches forward, hitting his fist against his chest as he clears his throat and quickly digests the liquid. He looks up to Avery, who sits across from him, awkwardly poised. He slowly raises a hand to wave at him as if he's just encountered alien wildlife.
The man feels around, half-lucidly reaching for nothing. He breathes heavily, eyes darting for some sort of exit or confirmation of safety.
"Woah, relax!" Avery scoots forward, waving his hands.
"My pickaxe," the stranger rasps semi-intelligibly, still hyperventilating. The light glints on his face in a way that makes his dried tear tracks from whoever knows what glisten.
Avery pauses.
"Your... pickaxe?" he thinks for a moment, "Oh! You dropped it when you conked out! I totally forgot. Sorry, dude."
The man puts a hand to his head, groaning through gritted teeth. Beads of sweat run down his deep umber skin like bullets. Avery blinks.
"Um. Is that not bothering you a little?" He asks, pointing to the caked on blood-vomit.
The man peeks through his fingers to look down at himself. He sighs tiredly, saying nothing. He shakes his head and falls back against the thin wooden wall. He attempts to bring his knees to his chest, but he only weakly raises his legs a few inches off the ground before they fall back with an unimpressive thump. Avery scoots closer, nervous worry creasing his features. Oookay, well. He's gotta help one way or another. He has questions, and the man is clearly in no state to answer. Yet!
He stands up and returns to his chest behind them, rummaging around for something useful. Empty bottles with only one full of water, bread, ores, rotten flesh, a sword... ugh! Nothing. He puts his hands on his hips with determination, searching in his pockets. The most he finds is a few threads, until he stuffs his hand in his breast pocket to find a semi-fresh handkerchief. Perfect! The hospitality of that elderly shopkeeper who handed it to him won't go to waste!
He grabs the water bottle and unscrews the cork, dabbing it onto the small cloth until it's fittingly soaked. He returns to the suffering stranger, who he didn't realize has been watching him this whole time. Avery freezes for a moment under the scary, "I know something you don't" stare, but he pushes on anyway. He flops down to his knees and waves a hand backwards.
"Could'ja let me clean up your... uhh..." he looks around, "...stuff. You know what I'm talking about." He gives a tone-deaf wink.
The stranger slightly tilts his head for Avery to have a little easier access to his neck. Avery leans over him, lightly tapping the large stain before the minimal progress makes him get to scrubbing. Especially since a lot of it seems to have seeped into his tasseled, red cape. The stranger gives no protest, the only noise from him being the occasional broken exhale. Avery tries to be gentler around his nose and lips, though.
The stranger's features appear to soften once Avery is about done cleaning him up, but his eyes never leave him. It's a little creepy, honestly. Avery hums, smiling a little.
"Okay, that's good enough..." he says, mostly to himself, “so, got anything else I should doctor?"
"No."
Avery nods, moving to fix and reorganize his things. He needs to get everything together before the his investigation starts!
"I know you have questions," the stranger says while Avery's back is towards him, bent over and face-down in his chest.
Avery pauses.
"What?" He asks, turning around.
"...The book. The mine."
His heart sinks, and the familiar feeling of something incomprehensible tugs at him again. Something far bigger than him and the stranger.
"Oh. Um. Haha..." He grabs the messy book and quill from his chest, moving to sit next to the man, "This? Did you write it?" That could be the only explanation.
"Yes," he says, bringing out a pair of trembling hands to hold it. Avery hands it to him, watching as he runs his hand over the leather cover and flips through the pages, or, what little bit is written. He quickly closes it, eyes flashing with something Avery can't pinpoint for a fraction of a second.
"What's all this about?" Avery asks, a bit worried now.
The man looks at Avery for a moment then flinches, rubbing his temples again. Maybe a bad headache?
"...We can start simple," he mumbles, words strained.
"Okay. Introductions! You... already know my name, which is kind of weird," Avery points at him.
"Sorry."
"Well, only a trade is fair. Tell me your name, then."
He pauses, expression blanking. Then, he shakes his head, gathering himself.
"...d3rLord3."
"Ooh! How knightly," Avery scratches his chin.
D3rlord's eyes widen, as if set off by the words.
"Don't call me that," he interjects, before adding a passive, “please."
Avery frowns for a moment.
"Oh. Oops. How does D3r sound, then? No knight-ness required. Nice and informal," Avery shoots finger guns at him, trying and failing to save the situation.
D3rlord nods.
"Cool!" Avery grins, turning his finger guns to a double thumbs-up.
"So, what’s the deal? This whole... ominous warning thing. It’s a little creepy. Or maybe foreboding is a better word. No offense.”
D3rlord takes a suspiciously long time to answer, an obvious internal battle playing out in his subtly changing expressions and body language.
“…None taken. I understand,” he says, rather pathetically.
…
“You didn’t go to the crossroads.”
Avery blinks.
“Well, yeah.”
“It’s unsafe. A festering wound bound to spread,” D3rlord explains, voice dejected and tired, as if recalling it alone drains his energy, “to everything and everyone.”
Avery frowns.
“That’s… pretty bad, sounds like…! But, um. Why warn me? A total stranger. Not that I don’t totally appreciate it, but, why?”
“I felt I had to. There’s an evil there and…” he puts a hand over his mouth, unsure of what all he should tell Avery, “…It’s maddening.”
Avery finds himself a little frustrated at how vague he is.
“So. There’s this… evil, spreading thing just in the world? That poses a threat to everything ever. Just casually, like how the sky is blue?”
D3rlord looks over, unaware that he’s been biting his own finger until he accidentally draws blood. He quickly hides it behind his back with a small hiss.
“I only need you to trust me,” he tries to state firmly, but his voice almost wanes with something of desperation.
The two stare at each other for a bit too long. The silence is tense, considerate, and fragile. Like a balancing ball, waiting to rock either way. Not even the crickets are loud enough to serve as proper white noise.
“I don’t know,” Avery mumbles, looking away, “This is a lot.”
D3rlord sighs.
“Why don’t we sleep on it? You look like you’re about to pass out. Again.” Avery adds.
Maybe that’s how he always looks. Like a walking shell of a man, wracked by a hidden disaster that haunts him. It seeps into everything about him, and now, Avery’s world and well-being too, apparently.
“You only have one bed,” D3rlord points out.
Avery blinks. No, duh! He stands up, walking to said bed.
“I know… sorry. You don’t mind sleeping on the floor tonight? I can make you something tomorrow.”
“We won’t be staying here tomorrow,” D3rlord pauses, “if you’ve made up your mind.”
Avery stops mid-step, hovering just over his mattress. He turns to face D3rlord.
“W-what?!”
“It’s unsafe.”
Avery sighs, running a hand down his face. Right. He needs to sleep, then he’ll probably have better judgement and comprehension skills by morning.
“Okay,” he says passively. “…Just give me some time to think overnight.”
Avery slowly lowers himself into bed, tugging his blanket to cover himself and crossing his arms over his chest. Hm. Does he really have much to lose? He’s got a shoddy shacklike house and some garbage in a chest. Basically a nomadic lifestyle, at this point. The base is really only to avoid getting mauled by a zombie or meet a similar gruesome fate in the middle of an unsheltered night. To just… get up and leave everything? It’s not like he still can’t go to Skywars matches, and a new adventure wouldn’t be bad, but, this is serious. Too serious. However, something tells him to just put his trust in this mysterious new acquaintance.
He’s met plenty of weirdos, but, maybe this guy’s the real deal. He knew about the book and all, despite being needlessly vague. Regardless, it’s simply too late for him to really think about the logistics of his situation super hard right now. He exhales, closing his eyes and rolling onto his side.
He closes his eyes tighter when he hears D3rlord mumble to himself while Avery is clearly trying to sleep.
He’s in for the long haul, isn’t he?