#alsmpshipping | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lunarsands · 11 months

Text

ALSMP Fanfic: Along The Roads To Sanctuary Ch 1

Bonus also Empires SMP S2 fanfic! I just didn’t want to make the title field too long ^_^;

Characters: PearlescentMoon, Scott Smajor, MythicalSausage, Eddie, Joel Smallishbeans, Bubbles the Dog, Hermes, mentions of other Empires S2 characters, including a certain misplaced warlock… Sausage Supreme

Relationships: MythicalSausage/Scott Smajor

Tags: Canon Divergent, fictional religion, scosage, Afterlife SMP meets Empires SMP S2 but in an AU way,

Warnings: violence, surrealism via magic auras, humorous misunderstandings about infidelity, (tfw your husband cheats on you…with you), kidnapping (although we know how that went in canon)

(Sequel to Echoing Through To You, When The Skies Cry, Until The Blood Moon Descends, Then We’ll Rewrite The Stars, Wherever These Flowers May Grow)

Summary: A happily ever afterlife is interrupted by the distant past; Sausage receives another calling and is sent into a different mortal world from their old one, with Scott insisting on following so they won’t be separated. They both lead brand new lives but only Scott regains memories of the previous one on his own, and he isn’t allowed to remind Sausage about any of it without jeopardizing the mission the angel was sent to complete – a mission someone else was supposed to have dealt with.

(Also available on Ao3!)

[ A/N: Gratitude as usual to Cynthrey for brainstorming and for help translating dialogue lines to Spanish! | Since my sequel title game is getting excessive, I’m noting here that this also follows the events of “Who’s The Unfairest Of Us All”, hence the italicized blurb at the beginning]

---

Chapter One

As soon as Sausage and Scott had left after telling her about their encounters with Myth and Smajor, Pearl began to pace around the inside of the royal gazebo, her mind abuzz with thoughts of parallel versions of people. She stopped at one point to wave a hand over the reflecting pool, bringing up a sepia-tone image of a world from the past.

She watched it for a moment, then let out a distressed sigh and returned to pacing around, hands clasped tightly behind her back.

An unfamiliar voice called out from the direction of the pool. “Goddess PearlescentMoon, we need to have words with you.”

Pearl froze, then pivoted on her heel. Rising out of the pool was a bipedal figure made of jittering static. When they fully emerged, they stepped onto the floor, remaining indistinguishable, although Pearl thought she could make out the shape of a pair of closed eyes. “Well, that’s quite an entrance,” she said stiffly. “But – I’m sorry? Who are you?”

“We are one of the higher deities, responsible for matters of the spirit which are involved with all living things. That includes souls. You have something to answer for…”

Behind them, the pool returned to the image of the sepia-washed world just as a figure wearing a crown of red and gold stepped into view.

~*~

Having overseen the settling of night across the mortal realms, the starborne guardian Scott made his way home with a series of mid-air leaps and bounds that left a trail of purple sparkles in his wake all the way back to PearlescentMoon’s realm, where it was also still night. He smiled, thinking of how he and Sausage would have a chance to watch the sunrise together before he took a little rest and the seraph started his daily work. They would still get to spend time together during the day, but night had become very special to him.

“Sausage! I’m back!” Scott called cheerfully as he opened the door. He then gave pause. There was an odd stillness about the place, and he found himself beginning to rush as he went from room to room, looking for any trace of the seraph – a note, perhaps, if he’d had an early duty to attend to. As he entered the bedroom, he could swear he heard the sound of a baby crying, just for a split second – but, no, it had to have just been the creak of the door hinges.

Then he spotted several feathers on the floor, a glint of silver along the tips as the light from the doorway fell on them. “Sausage?” he asked of the empty air.

It was unusual for him to up and leave with no word, regardless of whatever task he had to do. Scott turned, not even entertaining the thought of waiting, and was soon bounding toward the center of the realm where he knew he could find the one person who should definitely know where Sausage was.

The royal gazebo came into view, a humble and rustic structure on the outside that matched its surroundings and had nothing fancy about it that would indicate it was where a goddess held court. She was, at the moment, seated in her wicker throne and chatting with a messenger from some other minor god but her gaze flicked over to Scott as he entered. She held up a hand to pause her conversation then nodded at the starborne.

“Pearl, have you seen Sausage? He wasn’t at home waiting like usual and I didn’t see a note. Was he summoned for something?” He had expected a mere confirmation; he did not expect her look of sympathy.

“I am so sorry, Scott. This is going to be difficult to hear, but he received another calling.”

“What? What do you mean? I thought seraphs didn’t get those anymore!”

“It’s unusual but the situation turned out to be dire. And also complicated. It had to be him.”

“Wait, so… I don’t get to say goodbye or anything?”

“It was urgent.”

Scott hastily considered his options. “So, he’s on some mortal world again… Send me there.”

“I… don’t have that type of power over you.”

Scott tried not to let too much annoyance cross his face. “Then at least show me, please.” He gestured desperately to the reflecting pool set into the gazebo’s floor off to the side.

“There honestly isn’t much to show right now. He only just entered the world, but he’s also starting over – from the very beginning of a new life.” Aware of what he intended to do, and as usual knowing she couldn’t stop him, Pearl added, “You’ll have to do the same if you want to follow him. There are different rules there than the world where you two met.”

Scott’s eyes widened. He hadn’t imagined that sound of a newborn baby. The echo back at their house was Sausage’s connection to this realm. “W-Will he remember me, when we meet again – however many years that ends up being?”

“No. He can’t remember right now. His task requires… other memories. I can’t explain all of it right now. I’ll answer you if you call on me, when you regain your memories of life here, but you absolutely cannot tell him. It’s very important. There is… a great evil that he is now responsible for undoing. You can help protect him if the danger becomes too much – I know you could never be stopped from doing so – but you still have to be careful. Promise me, Scott of the Stars. Promise me you won’t interfere with this destiny.”

Scott’s heart ached. It might be a very long time before Sausage returned to the celestial realm if all of this was to play out as indicated. It would be better to at least be in the same world to help, rather than just watch from above. He murmured out loud, “Now I know how he felt, only able to look in on me in the other world after he ascended…” Then he nodded firmly. “If we were destined to be together despite all the other trials, then this is destiny, as well. I promise.”

~*~

The first decade and a half was something of a blur and spent unaware of the power of the cosmos just beneath his skin, but as Scott made his way into his later teen years, he found himself studying the stars, drawn to follow them and see where they led. He began to explore around outside the idyllic town of llama herders and quiet meadows, collecting shiny rocks from the hills and streams, and occasionally even stumbling upon half-buried relics of a long-ago past – well, mainly pottery shards and arrowheads, but one time he found a gemstone that definitely had been shaped by artisan hands.

This gave him a taste for treasure hunting, and when on trips to other towns while accompanying llama caravans delivering goods, he would stop to scour local history books that might lead him to other shiny discoveries.

Some turned out to be in the clutches of people far wealthier than him. Some were squirreled away in general collections, and others were rumored to still be in the ruins and caverns they had been lost in. He wanted to acquire them all, even though he wasn’t always sure what was behind that urge. Stealing probably wasn’t the best idea…

At least, not without some tricks and training first. He practiced with treasures out in the wild, scaling cliffs and navigating ravines, although finding quite a bit of it to be easier than others might. His agility was unparalleled, and sometimes he seemed to have no regard for gravity at all.

The only thing that ever seemed to – if momentarily – throw him off his game was the sound of a bird taking flight. Something about it always caught his attention right away, and he would be compelled to watch as the bird flew away.

~*~

Elsewhere in the world, a young man learning to be a blacksmith in a peaceful town full of magically-gifted people would wander outside in the evening and sit to gaze up at the sky. His surrogate father, Eddie, the blacksmith training him and a member of one of the anthropomorphic peoples in the area, would join him after tidying up for the day.

One evening, after a particularly busy day and needing the extra hand with cleanup but finding him already gone, Eddie went out to retrieve him. He was on the bench out front as usual, making him easy to find, at least. Eddie put on the act of it being arduous to lower his older, aching body onto the bench. “Well, quite a lot to do still today, yet here you are. Sausage, why do you stare at the sky so much? It will still be there after we’re actually done for the day.”

“Sorry,” the young man offered, laughing awkwardly as he realized he was being scolded. “I can’t help it. They’re just so beautiful! I love seeing them appear as the sky gets dark, like a mystery that’s only revealed in certain light – or, well, lack of light, I guess. Lack of daylight, specifically? Anyway, I love to see them. I - I’ll come inside in a minute, I promise. I wasn’t going to not help close up the shop, I just…” He turned his gaze upward again. “I feel drawn to them. Sometimes I wish I could meet a star.”

Eddie scoffed, although it was a gentle sound. “You know they’re just specks of light, and not something you can actually see in person, right? Aside from legends that say otherwise, but those are still only legends. Even the old stories of spirits from the forests are just people who had nature magic. Probably just someone who had light magic, and either they or someone else claimed they fell from the sky.”

“This is unusually cynical of you tonight. I mean, one day someone might tell the legend of Sausage, the man who could talk to animals! I could be mythical, even!”

“I’m unusually tired and sore tonight, son.” Eddie tried to sound grumpy, but he enjoyed Sausage’s idea of whimsy. “Get back inside and help your old man out, then you can run with your imagination later.”

“Yes, sir, on my way!” Sausage hopped up and scurried inside. Eddie heard him a moment later chattering with a mouse before the sound of a broom sweeping the floor followed. He smiled and folded his arms over his stomach, taking a rest of his own as he admired the sky.

~*~

Adventuring and treasure hunting naturally came with a few costs. There were the occasional close calls where Scott was nearly caught stealing, and the ones where he was caught – an incident with a witch came to mind, when he had merely been trying to procure some potions to help in his endeavors, and while she was busy brewing, his sticky fingers just so happened to try to touch a shiny bauble hidden away on a dusty shelf. He figured she wouldn’t even miss it, considering the number of cobwebs around it. Instead, he ended up running out of her hut with neither the bauble nor the potions, and her threatening that the only reason she didn’t curse him right that second was because he paid for the potions in advance, and she at least was honorable in that aspect.

Then there were the physical scrapes and bumps from hastily escaping traps, his agility saving him from worse damage. He managed to avoid any major breaking of bones, although he did sprain his wrist one time. A little bit of rest and strictly adhering to stretching exercises saw him back to his craft again.

He was more careful about inspecting his surroundings when closing in on an item, now expecting pretty much everything to be trapped in some way. Yet one thing he did not heed was rumors surrounding treasures – he only believed in concrete evidence. No, a tomb was not guarded by an invincible warrior clad in armor; it had a redstone system that assembled iron golems when the trap was triggered. No, people were not stolen away by spirits; they bumbled their way into a hidden pit with a sheer drop all the way down to bedrock while the trap reset overhead.

Someone could say that a relic was ‘haunted’, but he dismissed those claims as nonsense. Actual magic had to be performed in front of his eyes, and until then, he remained skeptical. But it was still a good way to get a lead on where a treasure might be.

One such tale sent him on his longest journey to date, to find the entire treasure room of an ancient kingdom. It was said that the people had fled a great calamity, and with their ruler gone missing, not a second was spared toward worrying about what was inside the castle. Among the treasures were rumored to be a magic staff that allowed the wielder to travel to other dimensions – Scott guessed it might allow someone to magically summon portals to the Nether and to The End – and something called the Nether Star Pendant, said to contain the soul of a grim reaper, and whoever carried the relic with them would be safe from all manner of death. For that one he figured it had a spell of protection on it; there was no possible way a mere gemstone could hold such a spirit.

The ruins seemed promising, once he found them among overgrown fields and the crumbling foundations of buildings long since reclaimed by nature. He made his way to the largest footprint and scoured around until he found a way underground, where the lowest levels of the castle might have survived intact. After no small amount of digging, however, he found the old corridors to be impassible. This was not as simple as buried treasure under a beach somewhere.

He hated to leave empty-handed, but this would take some possibly serious excavation, and he didn’t even know for sure if there would be anything in there. Ancient tragedies eventually passed, and in the aftermath other people might loot an area as soon as it was safe – especially an entire abandoned castle.

He camped for the night under the stars. He would explore around tomorrow, maybe do a little more digging – maybe an extra meter further in might yield something to make this worth it. Even just a fancy sword or two would suffice. Although, perhaps the missing king himself had taken the items when he left, intending to cross dimensions and cheat death.

~*~

Elsewhere in the world, a man was running for his life through a village that was engulfed in fire everywhere he turned. He had lost track of his remaining loved ones in the smoke when everyone scattered. At least one of them needed to escape. At least one of them needed to keep the magic safe.

Well, no. Eddie had insisted that it be Sausage who must absolutely make it out alive and flee far, far away. With arrows streaking past him, he continued to run. He tried to use the smoke and flames to his own advantage until he could reach the outskirts of the village and attempt to lose his pursuers in the forest. As he crossed the border into the trees, he whispered a fervent request to those old spirits of the forest that Eddie had once talked about, hoping they might hear him and aid his escape somehow.

Someone answered, although he saw none of it as he fled, eyes straight ahead to find a path. Behind him the brush grew thicker, tree branches closing in to fill gaps, with vines suddenly swinging down to conveniently catch around a soldier’s chest, almost seeming to pull them backward. Giant sunflowers sprang up to block the way as well, and their stems proved too tough for the soldiers to cut them down with any type of speed.

The tyrant king would still want him – and anyone else possessing so much as a scrap of magic – to be found. Dedicated trackers and assassins would have to handle that.

~*~

Scott checked his map one more time. This was definitely the right desert temple. The supposed marble skull had to be around here somewhere. The drawing in the bottom corner was pretty specific, so it wasn’t like he could mistake it for one of the other dozen, mundane skulls laying around. Someone had once had a very creepy idea of décor, or maybe thought the display would scare off thieves. But he still wasn’t about to become superstitious and turn back.

He sidled around a bend in the corridor, very much continuing to be cautious of traps, however. He gasped quietly. There it was, finally. It practically gleamed in the dark, the light of his torch not yet reaching it, but once he had made his inspection of the floor and walls, the torchlight struck the pink jewel in the skull’s right eye socket.

He grinned to himself. It was magnificent. It would look wonderful in his collection. He kept his eagerness in check, however. Picking up a treasure was where the final two traps would be: triggered by touching the item itself, and by carrying it past a specific threshold.

With the utmost caution he removed the skull from its place. There wasn’t any dust around it to have left an imprint…or to hide some mechanism. He remained alert as he retreated to the doorway of the chamber, and watched every step he took on the way out of the temple. He even waited to see if taking the skull a certain distance caused any reaction, but it seemed he was going to get away with it completely unscathed.

That was, until he woke up the next morning and found he could no longer see out of his left eye.

Except that turned out to be because he no longer had a left eye.

Meanwhile, the skull now sported a brand new, shiny green gemstone in its left eye socket.

The shock and realization of what had transpired was enough to keep him stunned for the better part of the day. Putting the skull back was unlikely to change anything. After all, there was someone out in the world – at least at one time, since there was no way to gauge how long the skull had been there – walking around missing their right eye.

It took longer than he would have liked to gather his thoughts and choose a course of action. Maybe someone with more knowledge of magical artifacts could tell him how to get his eye back. Nothing that he could recall mentioned anything about the skull being magic, only that it was pristine and had a beautiful crystal in it.

Quiet inquiries eventually led him to an old wizard in a swamp – a very likely place for someone who would have knowledge of a body part stealing-and-transforming artifact. By that point Scott was more than happy to hand over the skull in way of payment, and he figured the weird potion was pretty much meant to knock him out so the wizard could extract his eye from the skull, change it back to normal, and return it to him.

At one point he heard a strange sort of echoing sound, and then felt the warmth of sunlight, and then could smell freshly turned soil, and then tasted honey.

All that was left to sense, then, was…

He opened his eyes. The wizard, the skull – all trace of everything was gone. But he could see properly again. He still had everything else on him that he had brought, so the wizard hadn’t robbed him; whatever reason he had for disappearing before Scott woke was fine to remain a mystery. He was just glad to have his full sight back.

He pushed open the door of the shack, knocking aside a tall sunflower without realizing that it hadn’t been there before. He passed several more sunflowers on the way to find a clear stream to get a look at his face. He leaned over and was startled to see that it wasn’t his eye, because now his left eye was yellow.

Unless maybe it had been altered by being in the skull and then removed from it? With the wizard gone, he had no way of finding… out…

Something else was strange.

His reflection appeared to be glittering, and not just from the sunlight refracting off the water. He looked down at his hands, then turned them forward and back; his skin appeared to be dusted with pinpoints of light. He brushed at them, then dipped them in the water and splashed some on his face, too – since it also glittered in the reflection.

But, no, it wasn’t something that could be washed off.

A memory stirred. He glanced over his shoulder at the nearest sunflower, then looked back down at the water. As the ripples faded out, he saw himself again, but with violet hair and matching eyes, a purple gradient starting bright at his fingertips then darkening as it went down the bare arms of his reflection.

He stumbled backward and landed pressed up against the side of the low hill. His head became a whirlwind of conflicting memories. His life here, but… a life somewhere else. A life of many creatures, not just human, starting with a small mothling and ending with a shooting star that left purple sparkles in its wake.

He gasped and looked at the sunflower again. “P-Pearl? Pearl?! Can you hear me?!” He jumped up and looked around, frantic. “I – I’ve remembered! I’ve remembered! Pearl, help me – where is he?!”

He reasoned that it might take a moment for his words to reach her. In the meantime, he crept back over to look in the water and gingerly touch his cheek below his left eye.

Perhaps the skull had known exactly what it was doing by taking the eye of a starborne.

~*~

“Scott, just remember – it is very important that you do not remind him yet.”

Scott kept that warning circulating in his head as he made plans. Pearl had responded by coming to him in a dream and giving him a quick briefing. Sausage was somewhere called Sanctuary, building the next phase of his life in this world. Scott would do the same to keep up appearances – a place of his own, rather than simply trying to move into Sanctuary right off the bat. Taking inspiration from the life that had gotten him to this point, he named it Chromia; a small kingdom situated in a flower meadow, which was his own poignant reminder of his home in another world.

It also conveniently gave him a source for trading with local villages, and he made a bittersweet pun out of calling Chromia “a place to dye for”. He looked forward to the day when Sausage might pick up on the second layer of the joke.

In the meantime, he learned that not only did his replacement eye reveal his own appearance, it also showed a glowing aura around magical items; he supposed starbornes could be considered magical beings. Upon this discovery, he tore through his collection, looking for anything of exceptional power that he might use to help Sausage when the time was right.

He found a set of five rings that glowed brightly and one gaudy scepter that had a spell contained within it. Items that had been proclaimed to be special turned out to be mundane, while a few others were, surprisingly, lit up like torches. He soon figured out that with a little concentration he could see the hidden runes floating around things, and he translated a few of them as he went along. The rings all had protection ensorcelled upon them. The scepter held a single fire charge.

A pair of netherite scimitars caught his attention. He remembered fighting with a sword and shield just fine in the past, but perhaps he could start practicing with them. They had a few layers of spells on them, which would doubly come in handy. He decided he would keep them secret, and let everyone think the ruler of Chromia had standard battle skills – more a colorful surface than substance underneath.

When an invitation went out calling on all the rulers of the lands to meet and discuss one big trade deal, Scott saw his chance to finally see how Sausage was faring. At first the gathering was dominated by a very outspoken goblin then everyone began talking over each other, but Scott’s focus was on Sausage, to the exclusion of anyone else. He appeared much the same, having managed to obtain a scar over his right eye again and was… well, honestly, quite a bit more buff-looking than Scott remembered. When Sausage loudly announced that he was trading in every type of wood that existed, it was clear the extra muscle came from lumberjack work.

Scott mentally shook off the distraction and began to analyze the others, just in case. No one seemed like too much of a threat so far… The presence of a pirate seemed a little shady, but that might have just been the instincts of one thief to another.

There was, however, one more shock of the day for him. One person towered above everyone else – literally. As Scott’s gaze traveled up their body to their face, and then as he focused on their voice amid the cacophony, he realized he recognized who it was. He couldn’t help murmuring out loud, “What are the odds of it being this world…”

Joel. It was Joel. The weather god. And he was showing no sign of recognizing him – or Sausage, for that matter – as he turned from his current conversation to look down at Scott. “What’s the matter, little colorful man? I noticed you on that hill near Stratos. You had better stay on your own side of the border. I’ve got big plans, because I’m a big god, and you don’t want to get on my bad side.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Scott replied coolly. “Don’t worry. I planned to just stick to my flower fields.” He turned away to not let the calculating look show on his face. There was no telling how long it had been since Joel had last seen them. Time was always a funny thing between the mortal and higher realms. It was possible Joel had forgotten all about the two florans who had been wandering around his world when he had been a fledgling god. Of course, they were also both decidedly less leaf-covered and not flower-bedecked now, despite Scott’s comment about fields.

A wistful look now crossed Scott’s face as he wandered away from the group. He might have managed to establish Chromia on top of lands that he and Sausage had once worked to repair. The idea was solidified when he wandered far enough for a distant structure to come into view, and he soon recognized it as the Greatbridge of Gilded Ratio – or, the Ancient Capitol, as the archeologist who was studying it called it.

“Hey – Scott, was it?”

His heart fluttered as he heard Sausage call him by name. “Yes, that’s me.” He kept his tone even as he turned to see the founder of Sanctuary jogging over to him. He tried very hard to not stare, for a few reasons. Then he realized something; just because he couldn’t remind Sausage of their previous lives didn’t mean he couldn’t show attraction to him. “What can I do for a strong, handsome man like yourself?”

“Um.” Sausage let out one of his giggles that Scott now realized he missed hearing. “I just, um, I heard you trade dyes? I have some colorful building designs I want to try, but I’m going to need a lot of dye for the concrete. Can we set up some kind of extra deal between just the two of us?”

“Sure. I’m actually lacking tree variety in Chromia. I’ll trade you color for color – I’m thinking regular planks might get too boring after a while.”

“I would highly recommend spruce for a lot of things, though!”

“Oh, that goes without saying, that you would—” Scott caught himself, “…because you seem to know what you’re talking about, being a lumberjack and all. I would assume decorating taste goes along with it, best use of each type and all that.”

“Oh, yes yes yes, architecture is another hobby of mine!” Sausage smiled proudly, perhaps glad that someone was seeing beyond his brawny exterior. “You should visit Sanctuary after I’ve built it up some more, you might enjoy what I have in mind, since you seem to also like a good color combination.”

Scott smiled warmly. “I’d like that. You can let me know how it’s going whenever you come by Chromia with a delivery. And you’re also welcome to stay for a little while, if you like…” He lightly placed a hand on Sausage’s arm and decided to not be subtle as he offered an admiring glance.

Sausage grinned in response, blissfully unaware that it was his own husband flirting with him, but clearly appreciating the interest.

~*~

Upon returning from the gathering, Scott decided he needed a better way to communicate with Pearl other than waiting for her to visit him in dreams. Recalling how Sausage had been able to focus directly on him via the memorial dais in the cemetery of Heaven’s Reach, he disguised a small shrine as seemingly just another part of a patch of sunflowers next to a supply shed, while including a small reflecting pool to ‘fancy up’ the shed itself. He figured it also counted as a nod to the farming goddess.

It took a day or two of visiting and quietly speaking her name over it, but there came a point where he walked past it and caught a glow coming off of it with his replacement eye. He smiled in relief and stopped to gaze into the pool. “Pearl. I can see you’ve connected. Can you hear me right now?”

The surface of the water shimmered, then the goddess’ face appeared. “I hear you and see you. Clever of you to think of this.”

“Well, you gave the suggestion last time. I figured it could work again. I’ve spoken with Sausage. He seems well, and didn’t recognize me at all, so the memory thing is working perfectly. I assume I’m allowed to spend time with him as long as I don’t purposely try to trigger anything.”

Pearl smiled patiently. “Yes, you can be friends with him. I did say you could help him. Just keep your own disguise up.”

“I do have one question, and it’s more for me than him. Do you know what, um, happens if someone gains access to a piece of a starborne? Can it be used to influence the stars in any way?”

Pearl’s expression became sad. Scott’s stomach twisted, now worried he had inadvertently caused a bigger issue – except, he didn’t know at the time he was risking a starborne’s body, nor knew what the skull was capable of. “I don’t know why it took your eye, Scott,” she said, startling him since he hadn’t told her any of that yet. “But I tried to help you as best I could.”

“Wait, what do you mean? Did you read my mind while you were in that dream?”

“No. I had been watching both of you. Dire events were happening around him, so I checked on you, too, to see if anything pivotal was also going on around you. I saw you seeking help. That wizard was only going to give you a glass eye, but I imbued it with power that could help you. Why do you think it’s yellow, and not green?”

Scott touched his left cheek. “Yellow… …like a sunflower. But… then it triggered my memory…”

“Yes. I had something else in mind to give you a nudge to start the process, but I had to intervene somehow in that moment. Now you’ve got a little divine assistance to help out more.”

“So, I can see what I really look like, and I can see a glow around magical items. Is there anything else? Wait, why didn’t I see what Sausage really looks like – I mean, he doesn’t usually sparkle like I do, but wouldn’t an angelic aura count?”

“You’ll be able to see more in time, when and as needed. For now, it’s just an extra edge. Have those magic items at hand, and so on.”

“I figured I would keep them handy, yeah.” Scott tried to think of anything else to ask, but nothing came to mind right away. “I’ll check in again if anything else out of the ordinary happens. I guess you can give me a signal to call me over to this shrine if you need to tell me anything, too. For now, I’ll keep just being Scott, ruler of Chromia.”

Pearl now smiled gently. “Live your own life, too. It’s sort of like another chance at a mortal life.”

Scott gave her a sad look. “Pearl, you know I can’t have much of a life without him beside me. This is like life-adjacent, where I only see him from a distance.”

[ Chapter Two ]

#alsmp #alsmp fanfic #alsmpshipping #scosage #empires smp #empiressmpshipping #mythicalsausage #scott smajor #dangthatsalongname #pearlescentmoon #empires smp fanfic #soul liminality 2 #lunar yarns

14 notes · View notes

lunarsands · 1 year

Text

ALSMP Fanfic: Who’s The Unfairest Of Us All

Characters: actual!angel!Sausage, starborne!Scott, cursed!angel!Myth, human!Smajor, goddess!PearlescentMoon

Relationships: MythicalSausage/Scott Smajor

Tags: fictional religion, It’s the return of: Crossover between two Afterlife fic universes and What If The In-Love Versions Met The Murderous Versions?

WARNINGS: Violence, Injury, Bleeding, PTSD, threats of death, and well yes actual (temporary) death this time

Summary: Scott and Sausage find themselves transported to the parallel universe of their rivalrous versions, and end up stumbling across Myth and Smajor in their final sorry states. Myth, however, doesn’t want anyone to feel sorry for him, so Sausage has a fight on his hands far unlike the last one.

Sequel to Mirror Mirror, Break Our Fall. Takes place sometime after the events of Hellbent and Wherever These Flowers May Grow.

(Also available on Ao3!)

[A/N: I had zero plans to make a sequel to Mirror Mirror but sometimes when you’re doing some cathartic writing an idea emerges that is too good to pass up. So here we are: the crossover is now canon to both universes, barring mentions in the Soul Liminality 2: I Would Die For You universe. I did kind of have a feeling I shouldn’t have labeled Soul Liminality (1) as Complete…]

---

“Have a nice trip around the skies, my starlight,” Sausage said, giving Scott a peck on the cheek as they stood amid the drifting motes of gold emitted by the dark blue flowers in the garden. Right after dusk was their favorite time to pause and have a few minutes between just the two of them, when Sausage’s daily duties had ended and Scott’s nightly work was about to begin.

“Have a good night,” Scott replied, smiling softly in return. “I’ll see you in the morn— Or, not? Sausage,” he questioned with a gently chiding tone, “Were you ignoring a summons just to say goodbye? That’s sweet and all, but you could simply say it right away then go to Pearl.”

“I… wasn’t? What do you mean?”

“You’re glowing.”

Sausage gave a sappy grin. “Well, that’s because I’m so happy to be with you right now.”

“No, I mean literally glowing! Don’t you feel that??”

Sausage looked down at himself at the same time that Scott grabbed him by the arm. His body was limned in silvery light, reminiscent of when Pearl had turned him into a flame to travel out of the celestial realm into the mortal world. “W-Wait, I. I don’t know what’s happening!”

“So, it’s not Pearl?” Scott hastily looked around in case they managed to summon her for an explanation.

“No, I don’t hear anything. Wait…you’re glowing, too. And not like normal.”

Scott checked his own arms. The new glow outshined the violet sparkles on his skin. Then he felt a tug like when he was passing the edge of a planet’s gravitational field. He gripped Sausage tighter as the seraph’s form wavered into that flamelike shape from the last time they had left home. “Don’t let go of me!”

Sausage responded by clasping Scott in a half-hug with his free arm and wrapping his wings around the starborne as the light around both of them flared even brighter.

When the light faded out, they found themselves standing in complete darkness; even the glittering of Scott’s skin and the tiny constellation around his head were engulfed by it. Sausage cautiously folded his wings back but kept a hand on Scott so they stayed together. He whispered, “Where are we?”

“Somewhere underground. Very far underground.”

“How do you know? And how come you’re not sparkling like usual?”

“My powers have been cut off. No sky, no starlight – not even any radiating from me. The further down, the weaker I get. So, we’re… close to bedrock by my reckoning.”

“Oh… That makes sense, but isn’t great news.” Sausage went quiet, then made a sound like he was straining to do something. “Um, nope. My holy aura isn’t working, either. Is this magical darkness?”

“Both maybe. I still wouldn’t have much power underground, even if this was only magic.”

“Let me try something else.” This time the blackness was pierced by a sliver of pale yellow light as he pulled his flaming sword from thin air. It was unnervingly dim, however. “Well, it’s something.” Sausage held the sword up high to get a glimpse of their surroundings, although he maintained a grip on Scott’s hand for the moment.

They appeared to be in a cave made of deepslate, netherbrick, and blackstone. Scott frowned, puzzled. “That’s not normal. I’m pretty sure I could also tell if we were in the Nether.”

“Let’s… have a look around,” Sausage said, tone cautious. “There has to be more caves and tunnels somewhere, and there’s got to be a way up to the surface. The sooner we get you out to open sky, the better.”

Scott chuckled. “Don’t count me out completely. Can you summon more than one sword at a time? I can still use a weapon, it doesn’t have to be my own.”

“You know, I never really thought to try!” Sausage handed the flaming sword to Scott; as soon as it cleared his fingers, the flames disappeared, but the sword itself remained solid. Stuck in total darkness again, Sausage held his arm up high to not potentially pull out another sword right in front of Scott’s face.

What he pulled out of the air instead was a wedge-shaped shield dusted in muted flames. It featured a pair of simplified feathered wings and a sunflower in the middle toward the top. “Huh! Learn something new every day! It never occurred to me that would happen!” He added in a mutter, “No one ever told me, either.”

“You’re too busy using your own body as a shield,” Scott pointed out with another chuckle.

“My swordsmanship is so good I don’t need one – come on, now!”

“All right, then. We’ll switch. You get the flaming sword, and run offense, I’ll take the shield and be defense.” As the items changed hands, the flames along the shield went out while the sword flared back up, yet still not as bright as they should have been. Scott settled the shield against his forearm, hefting it a few times to get a sense of its weight, then joined Sausage in checking along the walls for openings or the sound of bats that could lead them to another cave.

~*~

Smajor lazily played floor hockey with the clock Myth had so generously given him after he had whined long enough about at least letting him know what time it was, if not what day. Of course, it did immediately break when Myth dropped it between the bars of the window in the iron door, but it gave Smajor something to do other than stare up at the ceiling or occasionally toss the discarded arm guard, which Myth had once used to keep a tally of Smajor’s deaths, against the door just to hear it clang.

He had no idea what Myth was doing with his time. He always seemed to just be sitting out there, cloaked in his ichor-soaked wings and staring at a soul lantern on the barely discernible table beside a wall of sculk. The entire chamber that the cell was situated in seemed to be made entirely of sculk. He figured that was intentional so Myth could mislead him into believing they were where a Warden could spawn, discouraging Smajor from trying to escape since a Warden could effortlessly pummel him when he had absolutely nothing to use to try to get away from it. However, he had never heard a shrieker or a sensor go off despite the clangs and scrapes, and he was certain he was being loud enough to trigger one if they existed nearby.

Smajor had also entertained the thought of throwing the clock at Myth to make a noise, but he both didn’t want to lose it nor risk Myth deciding to alleviate boredom by taking the sword that was lying beside the lantern and running him through a few dozen times.

It's not like there was any danger of the helpless Smajor suddenly reviving with new powers. But he was glad Myth hadn’t made it a hobby to kill him on a regular basis just for the fun of it. He also wouldn’t admit that he was glad the clock partially worked – ticking quietly every so often, but never changing time, as if the mechanism that counted the seconds was still trying to do its job.

With a sigh, he lightly whacked the clock with the side of his foot so that it slid under the bed. Then he turned to the door and stuck his arms out between the bars, letting them hang down as he leaned on the door. There was Myth, only visible by the light of the blue lantern and flickers of sculk, jet black wings held partially unfolded and moving ever-so-slightly as the cursed angel breathed.

Unable to see Myth’s face at that angle, Smajor wasn’t sure if he was asleep or not. Well, he wasn’t sure if he ever actually slept at all, but since he himself fell asleep regularly, those were the times he couldn’t exactly check to find out.

He debated whether to try counting the specks of pulsing turquoise in the wall again. Then something new caught his eye. Somewhere on the far end of the chamber seemed to be something bright that was reflecting off of… whatever was over there. He couldn’t see that far in the rest of the darkness to be sure. “Hey, what’s that?”

Myth shifted but didn’t turn. “Oh, stop. That didn’t work the first two hundred times, it isn’t going to work now.”

“No, I’m serious! There’s a – a light! Yeah, it’s a light, I’m pretty sure. There’s never anything else bright down here. You should know that.”

Myth grunted in annoyance and continued to not look.

“Have you gone blind, too?” Smajor made a noise of disgust. “Not that it would surprise me if you’re going off some freakish angel senses at this point. I—” His breath caught in his throat. He recognized that particular color and type of flickering light. He swore and backed away from the bars. “Hey, uh. You don’t think one of your brethren would come to check on how good of a job you’re doing keeping me locked up, do you?”

Myth finally moved to stand up, hands leaning on the table. “What nonsense are you on about? It’s probably some idiot spelunker who just made the worst mistake of their life by managing to find their way down here.”

Smajor edged forward enough to see Myth start to move away toward the other end of the chamber. He backed up again, then cast his gaze around the tiny, obsidian-lined cell. He snatched up the meager piece of armor laying on the floor and slipped it on. It didn’t fit too well, but it could serve as some shred of defense.

~*~

As Sausage and Scott entered a spacious cavern, they felt a little more hope that one of the shelves at the higher reaches would contain a passage leading upwards. So far, the tunnels and caves had been mostly flat and sealed on top.

Sausage pointed between two dripstone pillars toward a large lake. A lavafall higher up lent some light to the far side of the water, but was barely enough to reach the section they stood in. He whispered, “Someone has been down here, at one time anyway.” They saw several discarded buckets on the shore of the lake.

“Maybe someone collecting obsidian,” Scott suggested, also keeping his voice quiet.

“They don’t seem to have left a trail out of there, unfortunately.”

“That might mean they flew in. Which means they also flew out. Let’s look around over here more, just in case, then figure out how to get over there. Although this does seem to be another dead end…”

“And that’s a lot of sculk,” Sausage griped. “I don’t see any sensors anywhere yet, but they could be on the other side. I’m not particularly interested in trying to fight a Warden without knowing if there’s another exit nearby. I mean, we could hide out up top until it goes away, but we might trigger another one when we come back down to, uh. Retrace our steps.”

“We’ll have to check eventually,” Scott whispered back. “I think the question is whether you go up alone or take me with you. …Wait, hold on – I think there’s a passage over there.” He was sneaking closer to the wall of sculk that had spread nearly halfway across the floor.

Sausage stood still for a second, muttering, “Yeah, um, I don’t think going through more sculk is going to lead out.” He tiptoed after him anyway, holding his sword up to give Scott more light, although he even more reluctantly followed him into the passageway.

…Right up until the starborne stopped and uttered a string of awkward noises. “Um. Hehn. Uh. Sorry, I don’t think we’re supposed to be here. We’ll just, um, be… leaving…”

Sausage heard him draw a sharp breath, then saw what he was staring at.

…Who he was staring at.

Sausage’s hand unconsciously went up to touch his right cheek. “It… can’t be…” He was looking at himself, but with jet black wings, ragged and torn clothes, with sculk vein running along the side of his face and across the top wing on that side, and also down his arm – and four horizontal scars to go with the one over his eye.

What were the odds of another version of him having the exact same scars as…

“Myth?” Sausage asked in horrified wonder.

“You,” the other responded, voice low and yet oddly calm.

Scott raised the shield. Myth had changed since the last time they had seen him; there was no telling if his feelings toward them had, as well.

Smajor attempted to get a view of what was happening, but Myth’s stupid multiple pairs of wings were blocking everything. What he heard, however, was a voice just like Myth’s but less gravelly. His hands squeezed the bars until his knuckles turned white. “It can’t be… It cannot be. H-How? Why?” He growled quietly. Those two…

Myth then uttered a dry laugh and turned with an arm extended like a host inviting guests into the parlor. “Oh, do come in. Welcome to our little home. It’s less comfortable than the limbo dimension was, but neither of you look like you need water or room to change gravity.”

“Yeah, welcome!” Smajor called out. “Don’t be scared – you’re not the ones on the wrong side of the bars!” He added darkly, “Or are you…”

“We’ll settle for the exit,” Scott replied, although he snuck a glance past Myth to try to see what state his own double was in.

Myth put a hand on the top edge of the shield and pushed it downward. “I’d like to insist. Maybe you could at least explain how you got here, never mind what you’re doing here in the first place. The ancient city is miles away. You can’t tell me you went through your side, got through that entire maze again, and came through our portal for no reason.” There was an edge to his voice and Scott didn’t like the way he was staring at Sausage – or maybe it was just that the flaming sword was making Myth nervous.

If his powers had been working, he would have let off a burst of sparks to blind the two who were apparently used to living in the sculk-infested darkness. He sorely wished he and Sausage had investigated the top of the neighboring cavern right away.

Meanwhile, Sausage lowered his sword. “We didn’t do anything. One minute we were standing around at home, then there was a bright light, and then we were here! Well, several caves and tunnels back that way, technically.”

“Just out of the blue?” Myth questioned. He moved into the chamber and leaned against the table, appearing to sound genuinely curious.

Smajor snickered at how out of place the attempt at a casual attitude looked. “Very good, Myth, you seem so normal right now.” He then flicked a hand at Scott. “So, what even are you? I didn’t turn into anything that looked like that. Not that I remember everything I was before this. You’ll have to ask him if I ever turned purple and… fancy, or whatever it is you’ve got going on. What type of powers do you have? I’m starved for knowledge of the outside world – tell me, tell me.”

Scott shook his head. “That’s for me to know and you not to find out.” He then looked at Myth. “So… this was your solution? You brought him back and put him in a cell…?”

“Oh, there were a few altercations after we got back. You know, since it didn’t take long for him to find a way to kill me. But that first one he did to me after getting back, well…” Myth took a step forward and stretched out his wings, forcing Scott and Sausage to move clear in opposite directions, with the starborne ending up uncomfortably close to his depowered double.

Sausage noticed the black spatters of ichor on the ground and raised a finger to ask something, but Myth turned his attention back to Scott and said, “Now, see, you don’t know! You didn’t get the honor of looking into my soul and my private memories! This is what’s called poetic irony. You see, when he was a vampire, he imprisoned me in a little dungeon and had himself angel blood on tap until he finally drained me enough times that I became a wither.” Myth smiled sardonically. “And you thought ‘accidentally’ killing your angel was the worst thing you ever did!”

Scott darted a pained look at Sausage; the seraph mouthed the words, ‘I didn’t tell him about that,’ in a hasty defense.

Myth swung a lazy glance between the two. “The soul thing went both ways, by the way. So, I got a glimpse of your past. And now look at you.” Here he turned toward Sausage, spreading his wings just enough to block Scott. “All shining silver and holy fire still at your call. Of course this would happen – it makes perfect sense we ended up as opposites. How is life in the celestial realm? As you can see…” Here his voice went from a casual conversational tone to completely flat, “I’m two steps from hell.”

Sausage gazed back at his double with nothing but sympathy. “Myth… What happened to you? You obviously became a seraph, too, but… what’s wrong with your wings? Why are they dripping like… you’ve got a permanent wound?”

“Oh, you should have seen them when they were red! It was even more ghastly!”

Sausage’s eyes widened. “Wait – red, like blood? But that only happens if—” He stopped himself as realization hit. “Right. Of course.” He bowed his head, then cast a sad look toward where the cell sat beyond Myth’s wings.

“So, you do know the stories,” Myth said dispassionately.

“I… Well, I had a nightmare about that once.”

“Lucky you! Only a nightmare!” Myth flapped his bottom wings once, sending ichor splattering onto the ground. “Well, this is the reality of what happens when an angel kills someone, hmm, how many was it, Smajor?”

The reply came in a feigned weary tone. “One hundred and three.” Smajor surreptitiously clutched the arm guard he now wore.

“That was it,” Myth confirmed with a nod. “Kill someone over a hundred times, you get a cursed angel.”

“Myth…” Sausage’s voice was full of sorrow. “I’m sorry this happened to you. I… I don’t know what can be done. But maybe we can find a way to help—”

Myth suddenly closed his hand around the hilt of the sword on the table, although it was his empty hand that he lashed out with to shove Sausage backward. His face twisted into a snarl. “You don’t get to just show up now and try to redeem me again! It didn’t really work the first time! It gave me the power I needed, but I was doomed from the start!!” He swung the sword. Its darkly-stained blade clashed with the bright edge of Sausage’s sword as the seraph answered with a blocking maneuver.

“Sausage!” Scott cried, about to leap over to help, but was yanked back when something snagged the collar of his overcoat. Rage crossed his own face; he had ended up too close to Smajor, which was something he had wanted to avoid. He spun around, ripping the fabric free from the other’s hand.

Smajor let his arm hang down outside the window; the other arm, with the guard on it, he kept snug between his chest and the door. “Oh, relax. I can’t do anything. I don’t have any powers at all anymore. But, hear me out – let’s just have a little entertainment! Yours has got to be more powerful than mine, still being holy and all. Let him wipe the floor with Myth, then we’ll see about this ‘help’ you might be able to offer. And figure out whatever mysterious force brought you here, of all places.”

Scott regarded him with exasperation. “So, you didn’t learn anything from all this?”

“Was I supposed to? I still want to wring his neck, given the chance.” Smajor smirked then licked his lips. “He’s so convinced he was destined to be my jailer. I could at least make it worth his time.”

Scott rolled his eyes then said dryly, “I see Sausage fixed it so you weren’t an unhinged psychopath anymore. Now you’re just a regular one.”

The clash of steel drew his attention back to the two angels as Myth forced Sausage into the passageway. Scott felt like he had missed his window to be defense like he had proposed. This is just like the last time. I couldn’t do much before as a fish out of water, all I had was a trident. He looked at the shield. I don’t know if I could even throw this effectively since I haven’t gotten used to it yet… And I doubt I’m suddenly going to start getting any of my other powers back.

Smajor let out an exaggerated groan. “Aww, I can’t see what’s going on if they leave! Hey – purple me. Snap out of it and let me out of here so I can watch! You can be my new guard. I promise I’ll behave.” He grinned with a look that was everything the complete opposite of innocence.

“I think you’ll be fine for a few minutes without supervision.” Scott eyed the numerous locks on the door that only now were noticeable in the unhindered light from the soul lantern. It hadn’t sounded like Myth had that many keys on him when he moved, which meant they were hidden somewhere. Smajor was the least of his concerns, anyway. The sound of Sausage crying out in pain was the immediate one, so he ran toward the passage. He would figure out how to aid his partner when he got there.

Smajor gripped the bars with both hands and growled again. “I hate all of you…”

Sausage did his best to meet every swing and made some attempts to push back, sweeping his wings out of the way and dodging as Myth struck at him relentlessly – wild yet controlled enough to land hits; the cursed angel was eerily precise. He was enraged, yes, but clearly more sane than Smajor had been back in the limbo dimension. Surely Sausage could try to reason with him. “Myth! Please! We don’t have to fight! Let me hel—”

“THAT’S why!” Myth shouted. “Stop looking at me like I’m someone to be saved! You can’t save everyone, Sausage! Someone has to fall through the cracks sometime! You can hold out your hand all you want but that doesn’t mean you’re going to catch them!” As if to emphasize the point, he yanked his sword away and beat his wings, lifting up just enough to perform a kick that sent Sausage stumbling backward.

Sausage quickly caught his balance, although he clutched his chest plate where the kick had landed. “But... But you’re me! How do I give up on myself??”

“Easy.” Myth shifted his wings and dived forward, whipping his sword to the side to slash Sausage’s arm between the edges of his armor plates. “You stop caring.”

Sausage stumbled again, crying out in pain. The bite of the cursed angel’s blade hurt much more than he was expecting.

Myth kept in step with him, slashing again and again before Sausage could recover, slicing into his wings and hitting spots the gleaming silver armor didn’t cover. “Just shut it off,” he continued coldly. “Shut off the part of you that cares. It’s the only way to survive. The. Only. Way.”

He kicked Sausage again to send the seraph to his knees. Clutching at one of the wounds on his arm, Sausage found himself out of words for the moment. He looked at the palm of his hand as he drew it away. It wasn’t blood there, but black ichor, as if Myth’s sword had bled into him. The slashes across his wings were similarly staining his feathers black, with the color spreading as it dripped through the layers of silvery white.

Myth stared down at him with bitterness. “I could have gone an eternity without ever seeing either of you again. I didn’t need to be reminded of everything I can’t have.” He brought his blade up, but Sausage got a foot under himself and was able to brace his sword in time to block the strike, then he forced his body upward to push Myth back and then throw the cursed angel’s arms wide, with Myth needing to catch his own balance, which involved spreading his wings and sending droplets of ichor flying.

The effort brought a fresh wave of pain from each one of Sausage’s wounds and he had to back off, hand clamped over one of the gashes on his sword arm. “A-And if I don’t want to do that?” he weakly protested.

“Then you had better hope whatever brought you here decides to step in and take you back, because I can’t stand to keep looking at you.” Myth’s expression was once more all cold and bitterness as he raised his sword. Sausage gripped the hilt of his blade with both hands, but wasn’t sure he had the strength to block again. He folded one of his top wings across his face to act as a meager barrier.

Mercy didn’t register for even the briefest second as Myth started to bring the sword down. He would have no qualms about slicing through those pure, bright feathers.

Then Scott ploughed into him from the side, shield leading. He continued the charge until the ground turned into dripstone and he nearly shoved the cursed angel past the columns into the next part of the cavern. Myth flailed his wings, battering at Scott from around the shield. Scott tried to keep his head down behind it, but the feeling of the thick, wet ichor on his neck made him balk from revulsion.

He whipped the shield to the side, knocking Myth’s wings away, then he turned and ran back to where Sausage had dropped to his knees with a hand braced on the ground. Scott took a defiant stance over him. “Sausage, can you get up? What’s happening with those wounds? You… aren’t bleeding, but…”

“His – His sword. It’s become an unholy weapon. It’s hurting me differently than a normal one would.”

Scott glanced down with concern, although he didn’t want to take his eyes off Myth for too long; the cursed angel did seem to be weighing what to do with a fresh combatant that might not be affected by his weapon in the same way, and hadn’t moved yet. “Then you need to heal yourself quickly! Don’t worry about him attacking, I’ll protect you.”

“B-But, if you get hit, you can’t heal like me!”

“Focus on yourself first.” Scott flicked a glance at Myth, then looked squarely at Sausage and said grimly, “Because I need you to get back in this fight so I can do something to get us out of here. I have one power I can use…”

The seraph struggled to his feet, silver light now dancing over his wounds, although the stains on his feathers persisted. “But we don’t even know if there is a way out up there!” He nodded upward once, thinking Scott meant he had an energy reserve enough for an emergency boost to the rocky shelf above.

“I’ll make one,” Scott replied. He adjusted his feet and braced himself when it looked like Myth might be about to rush at them.

Instead, Sausage grabbed the shield from him and shot forward in a flurry of wings and fading silver light as his healing ability finished its work. With a beat of his wings, he leapt upward to lend more force to his attack. Myth launched himself to meet him halfway, taking the fight to the air. The cursed blade clashed with the now blazing shield. Myth didn’t seem concerned about his own lack of such defense, relying on his long-honed agility in flight to dodge Sausage’s strikes while attempting to land hits on the seraph once again, showing no hesitation in the face of the holy flames.

While they fought above, Scott walked to the center of the cavern and raised one hand, closing his eyes as he concentrated on cosmic wavelengths far beyond the reach of stone and soil. He grasped hold with his command of planetary gravity and urged it to answer his call.

One of the tiny stars orbiting his head winked out. He felt one of the many taut threads of local gravity slacken. It seemed to have worked, yet now he could only wait in anticipation to see if the meteor strike would actually arrive.

He smiled in satisfaction at the sound of rumbling. When chips of stone began to drop from the ceiling, he took off running in the direction opposite of the sculk passageway. “Sausage! Get clear of the middle!!”

With large pieces of stone starting to fall around them, Sausage made one last, powerful sweep of his wings while at the same time drawing his legs up to plant his feet on Myth’s chest. Then he punted him downward, subsequently sending him away from the center as well. Sausage hastily swooped after Scott as massive cracks spread overhead.

The ceiling gave way as a nine-meter-wide meteorite crashed through, opening the underground to the night sky.

As he flew clear, Myth stared over his shoulder in disbelief. He couldn’t even fathom whatever powers it was that Scott had, since he hadn’t manifested any other type of offense until that moment. Myth then had to shield his body with his top and bottom wings as the meteorite’s impact with the floor threw more debris everywhere, the shockwave sending chunks of deepslate on a horizontal axis into every available opening in the walls.

Through the clouds of dust, Myth saw the white flash of Sausage’s wings as he sped upward to the brand-new exit to the surface, and he assumed the seraph was carrying Scott with him. He was incensed by their escape, but he knew there was a possibility that the impact could have damaged the cell, so he glided down to check.

He completely missed the streak of bright violet sparkles that followed after Sausage.

The sculk in the passageway had been scored by one piece of large debris that had been flung into the chamber; that piece now rested up against the iron door, which had been rammed directly in the middle, buckling it inward and tearing the hinges clean off at the top and bottom. Smajor was in the process of wiggling out through the gap close to the floor. He had cut his hip on the edge of the broken door, but wasn’t letting that stop him as he pulled himself along far enough to get his legs free of the cell.

Then he looked up and saw Myth.

He swore.

Myth strode over and grabbed him by one arm to haul him to his feet. “We’ll have to find a new place to put you later. Let me show you why you wouldn’t have gotten very far anyway.” He dragged Smajor out to the main cavern and then let him just stare at the hunk of space rock embedded in the middle. “Only way out now is up,” Myth declared, with heavy emphasis on the last word.

Smajor could only stutter in response. “Whu – What did this??”

“Well, I know angels can’t call down huge meteors. The other me would have used holy fire, even though it would have taken a while for it to blast through this deep. Whatever your double is did this.” Myth squeezed Smajor’s arm. “Maybe you should ask him yourself.” With a beat of his wings and spray of ichor, he launched upward, taking Smajor with him via a painful wrenching of his shoulder.

He hadn’t seemed to have noticed that Smajor was wearing the arm guard, although Smajor himself doubted it was going to serve any purpose.

Sausage landed a meter or two from the edge of the giant hole, taking a moment to assess his new wounds. He knelt on one knee to put down his sword and shield so he could have both hands free to get a better look at his still-stained feathers – but still be able to grab them again if Myth should happen to come shooting out of the hole in pursuit.

He smiled instead when he saw a trail of purple sparkles arcing up into the air before Scott came back down, his body completely aglow then fading into his regular form – now with his skin glittering once again and the constellation around his head twinkling in the moonlight.

Scott smiled at him in return, then leaned to pick up the sword and shield to hold them for him. “How are the wounds? Are you feeling all right?”

“They still kind of sting. Maybe a little more time and they’ll feel better, but I could go for a regen potion right about now.”

“Since we have a moment, do you have any ideas for what we should even do here? This is their world, not the limbo dimension, and even if we stand a better chance at defeating Myth now that I can use all my powers, that doesn’t necessarily solve things.”

“I’m not sure,” Sausage admitted fretfully. “If he’s gone beyond a fallen angel, there isn’t much that can be done. He had a point… Redemption for angels only goes so far depending on their deeds.”

They didn’t get a chance to discuss the matter further, because right then Myth rose out of the pit with Smajor dangling from his hold. The cursed angel landed a mere ten steps away, and kept a grip on Smajor’s arm. Smajor gawked at Scott but didn’t comment on his now glittery appearance.

Sausage took his sword and shield from Scott, reigniting the flames on them, and held them at the ready, eyeing the sword in Myth’s other hand.

Scott raised his hands in a placating gesture. “Myth, we never meant you any harm. We don’t know why we’re here, but the fact that we did end up in your vicinity must mean the reason is connected to you. Maybe you weren’t meant to save yourself, but an outside perspective could make a difference.”

“If you’re going to start with your forgiveness nonsense again, don’t bother. And don’t you start pitying me, too,” Myth spat. “I don’t need both of you acting like saviors. And I didn’t need to be reminded that there was a happier option out there, or that it was destined to be exactly opposite of my life! I don’t want what you have, but I didn’t ask for this, either! Yet all I could do was accept it. Don’t try to change it now. You’re far too late for that.”

He jerked on Smajor’s arm, causing him to stumble in front of him. Then Myth drew back his other hand—

And then the point of his sword was sticking out of Smajor’s chest.

Smajor looked down, emitting a choked noise. “Yep… That… That still hurts…”

Myth yanked the sword out then threw him to the ground, where he curled up to quietly bleed out. Sausage and Scott stared grimly; a tense stalemate followed. Sausage’s grip tightened on the hilt of his sword, but he was in no hurry to engage the cursed angel again.

After another minute, Smajor gasped in a breath. He didn’t move, although he did groan out, “Oh, I did not miss that happening…”

Scott and Sausage now traded looks, both realizing Smajor hadn’t changed before reviving. The starborne questioned warily, “Wait, so, he wasn’t just a plain human on that life? What have you done to him?”

“This is what I meant,” Myth replied. “This is it for us. The end result. We go no further, we get no other chances, we’re like this forever.”

Sausage thought back to what he had told Scott moments ago about redemption. “Then… why are we here??” he despaired.

“Maybe,” Myth said in a bland tone as he picked Smajor up by the arm again, “You were sent simply to learn to temper that hero complex of yours. I’ll say it again: you can’t save everyone.” He stepped over to the pit, and the two thought that he was planning to take his leave and lock Smajor up again, and that had been his final word.

Instead, he shoved Smajor over the edge – dropping him to another certain death.

Sausage dismissed his weapons back to thin air and dived toward the rim of the pit, the thought in his mind of this has to stop! not making it to his lips.

“WHAT did I just SAY?!” Myth yelled, darting after him with sword leading to intercept him. “Are you just compelled to rescue people?!” He slashed one of Sausage’s middle wings, sending him off-kilter toward the wall of the pit.

Before Myth could follow, a dazzling burst of purple light exploded in front of him. He dashed a fist across his eyes in reaction.

Scott approached him, a sparking sphere of starlight held in reserve at his side. “Well, then what are you? Compelled to murder?” He would have to hope Sausage had been able to stabilize his flight, if not catch Smajor on the way down. He didn’t hear any sounds from the pit yet, but didn’t want to try to rush directly past Myth, either. Of course, now that he was out in the open, he could call down a star strike almost instantaneously to deal with the cursed angel.

“From pity to judging, here we go.” Myth pointed his sword at Scott. “I guess you’ve never once had the thought in your sparkly head to pay back someone for an injustice done to you. Lucky you.”

Scott decided to try sidling around for a better position to get past him. “Not unless you count an injustice I committed myself, that one day put me in a position to take the revenge another could have enacted upon me, and I was ready to remain locked in limbo to atone for it.”

Myth sneered. “Yes, I already know about the guilt trip you gave yourself, no need to go on about it.”

“Actually, this was something else that came later, but facing it freed me to become this.” Clenching his fist around the sphere, Scott then held his hand outward. From the sky came a shower of twinkling violet, nearly landing on Myth’s head; the sparks danced across his wings, causing him to growl in pain and attempt to dodge out from under the star strike. Scott moved his hand to follow him and maintained the strike until Myth charged toward him. Then he conjured another sphere in one hand and reached into it with the other, pulling out a sword made of the same glowing purple starstuff.

“Of course,” Myth muttered. The sight didn’t stop him; all the glittering light and shining gold of Scott’s overcoat only increased his resentment, and soon he was caught up in a duel with the more nimble starborne.

Out of reflex, Sausage pulled in his freshly injured wing as the pain caused by the cursed blade flared. He had just enough time to tuck his top pair of wings against his neck to cushion it as well as the back of his head before he crashed into the wall. Pain spiked along his back but faded as he dropped downward. He forced both of his middle wings to spread enough to soften his landing, but then he let all six hang limply after he was on his feet. He didn’t know why he had bothered going in to try to catch Smajor; he had fought him before when they were both gravitals, and Smajor had done whatever he could to make Sausage miserable, along with attempting to slash his throat toward the end.

Maybe Myth was right.

Smajor lay in a crooked sprawl against the side of the meteorite. From the looks of things, it might take a little longer than the earlier stabbing for him to revive. Sausage wasn’t sure what to do with him this time. It wasn’t like he could purify his soul or… anything, really. Was there even anywhere safe he could put him? Because it seemed like the only option was to go back up to the surface, and it wasn’t like Sausage could deposit him somewhere else in the world and ask him to go live a peaceful life without trying to get revenge on Myth for, well, everything, all over again.

Sausage sat down, leaning on the other side of the meteorite to try to think while keeping a feathery ear out for when Smajor revived. Yet not two seconds later he realized with resignation that the safest thing would be to secure Smajor before he woke up. Sausage doubted he would have anything constructive to offer.

By the time he got back over to Smajor, the regenerative magic of the world had knitted him back together to a point where Sausage could pick him up without a leg hanging oddly; his ribcage wasn’t doing so well, however. The seraph tried not to think about how this could just as easily be his Scott, roughed up and grimy… with an arm guard identical to his own but severely damaged, countless lines grouped by five scratched into the metal.

Not countless, he corrected himself. One hundred and three. Or one hundred and five now, he supposed.

Sausage made his way through the sculk-filled passageway. He surveyed the destruction within and set Smajor down on the floor, hoping he stayed unconscious a little longer. He studied the iron door, then drew out his sword and focused on making the flames burn hotter. He made short work of the remaining hinge, then pulled the buckled metal out of the way. He carried Smajor into the cell. He sighed at the futility and placed him on the bed.

What to do about the open doorway, though…

Sausage took a quick look around outside. Under the table was a well-camouflaged black shulker box with sculk vein all over it. He grimaced but pulled enough of the pulsating substance off to get the box open. Inside were a dozen keys, a diamond pickaxe, and ten pieces of obsidian.

Well, two would do.

He gave another resigned look at Smajor before placing the first block in front of the cell doorway rather than directly inside it. He would let Myth worry about uncovering him later.

Smajor suddenly bolted up and lunged at the doorway, shoving his right arm in the way of the block Sausage had been about to place. “Don’t cut me off from everything!” he protested, then coughed, which resulted in a bit of blood flecking the corner of his mouth. “Leave me a little window or something, so I can at least see Myth coming when he comes back down here to murder me again!”

Sausage gazed back at him with an empty expression, then said softly, “Maybe don’t give him a reason to.”

“You saw what he did up there! I wasn’t even moving!”

Sausage began to lower the second piece of obsidian. “I can’t do anything to help you. All I can do is put things back in their place.”

Smajor tried to fake a hurt look, but then his face hardened. He slid his arm back and clutched the arm guard. He glanced from it to the one that Sausage wore, but said nothing else.

The seraph sighed; well, at least he had moved his arm out of the way and didn’t try to keep Sausage stuck there in some moral quandary of whether or not to drop the obsidian on him to finishing sealing him in.

He turned away with another sigh. As he exited the passageway and had the moonlight to see by, he pulled one of his wings forward to look at the ichor-damaged feathers. He plucked out one that was almost fully gray and turned it over in his hand. It didn’t look like a stain that could be washed off, and the healing light hadn’t fixed them, either. He would have to hope they molted over time. Until then, maybe they would be a reminder of Myth’s words.

He directed his healing ability to the slash on his middle wing so he could fly out of the pit again.

Myth was finding it to be a lot harder to fight Scott. There was less surface area to strike at – no extra appendages, and at times it seemed the starborne’s limbs were only made of ethereal light that his blade passed right through before Scott twisted to strike back at him. There was now red mixing with the black from cuts on the cursed angel’s wings; Scott wasn’t pulling punches, whereas Sausage had been distracted by trying to talk things out.

Finally, Myth resorted to sweeping his wings to carry him backward away from Scott. He then threw his middle ones upward to cover the area over his head against another star strike.

Scott held his free hand up with a sphere of light on his palm again to keep that threat hanging over the cursed angel. “So, where does it end, Myth? When do you consider the never-ending cycle of revenge to be over? How much more hate and death do you want to have weighing on your soul? You don’t want me to repeat things, but I know very well how past failings over even just nine lives can keep someone from their true potential.”

“Potential? Have you been paying attention? O p p o s i t e s. We weren’t meant for this chivalry and glory that you two have! You achieved it, so someone else wasn’t supposed to! Our lives were sacrificed for yours! Now take that guilt and shove it up your pretentious, sparkly—”

At that moment Sausage soared up out of the pit and flew over Myth’s head, almost grazing the upheld wings, but went on to land next to Scott. He put a hand on Scott’s arm and made him lower it. “We’re going.”

“Saus—what? Going where?” Scott shot him a bewildered look before returning a watchful gaze to Myth in case the cursed angel pounced.

“We’re not here to change their fates.” He tugged on Scott’s arm to pull him away from continuing the fight.

Myth snorted. “Thanks for finally catching on! Just going to walk away, then? No last speech to tell me if I believe in myself enough, I’ll become pretty and shiny, too?”

“No,” Sausage called back over his shoulder. “I’m done talking. You’ve reminded me that I once heard someone say ‘No one can save all the world, but we should save who we can.’ You don’t want to be saved, so I’ll find someone who does.”

“Yeah?” Myth clenched his teeth then shouted, “And you DIDN’T HAVE TO COME REMIND ME THAT ANY HOPE WAS OUT THERE!”

Sausage turned his face away from him and instead scooped Scott up in his arms to wash off the memory of having so recently held Smajor the same way. Scott didn’t question it; Sausage didn’t seem about to give a destination, and Scott wasn’t going to go bounding off without knowing where they were headed, first. He draped his arms around Sausage’s neck as the seraph flapped his wings to take off. He didn’t bother to even just circle the pit one last time, only flew off in a vaguely eastern direction. He held Scott tightly against him.

Myth stared after them but didn’t pursue. “Gone, just like that?” He spat out the words. “Where do they even think they’re going? Would they actually go through the limbo dimension again?” He then looked directly up and raised the point of his sword to threaten an invisible adversary. “And to what end was this all really for?! You can’t just let me lie in the dark in peace?! You know there is no hope left here! Or was this meant as a wake up call for them? Why would they need the reminder? They’ve got their happy ever after! They didn’t have the misery of a hundred lifetimes! They—”

Myth stopped. Only ten. Their doubles only had to go through ten lives.

…Had Scott been right?

~*~

“What are you looking for?” Scott asked softly when he noticed Sausage had begun scanning along the horizon.

“Anything familiar,” Sausage murmured, his tone bleak.

Scott chanced a look at the ground. There were a few scattered structures, but everything appeared to be closed up against the night. Zombies wandered here and there, but the two of them were high enough that they didn’t draw the attention of any regular monsters which might have been out.

When Sausage banked to start following a river, Scott realized what he might be looking for. He gently hugged the seraph’s neck in silent solidarity. Then he started keeping an eye out, as well.

However, they both remembered what Myth had said way back in the labyrinth about things being destroyed in this world.

“There.” Scott pointed to an overgrown mountaintop with a crumbling stone staircase cut into the side that led up from the river. The dock was nonexistent. He patted Sausage’s shoulder then shifted into his starlight form to take flight on his own, arcing down out of the seraph’s arms to land on the ground while Sausage made a loop around the area to have a more thorough look.

There were a lot fewer buildings than in their version of Heaven’s Reach, and certainly no scenic gardens or ponds. The church seemed to have been reduced to a crumbling foundation, whereas the rest had only fallen into disrepair. Sausage landed in the rampant tall grass beside where the door would have been.

He sighed as Scott walked over. “I thought maybe we could reach Pearl – our Pearl, I guess? – if we could find this world’s Heaven’s Reach. But I guess it got destroyed like everything else, thanks to those two.” He looked around, despair back in his voice. “I don’t even see any sunflowers growing around it. How did things go so wrong here?”

Scott debated telling him what Myth had said about fated opposites. “Maybe unlike you, he got cut off from his Pearl when he arrived here, and… forgot much faster, or gave up more easily. You shook off that first death pretty quickly, you know? From what Myth said, it seemed the… situation dragged out for too long. And then it escalated into back-and-forth revenge, where we just kind of… moved on, and… you didn’t resent the fact that I became an angel. You and I went down one path, they went down the opposite. I don’t know if that fact itself was destined to happen, but Myth seemed to think so.”

“Hmm,” Sausage agreed listlessly. He stood there for a moment, seeming to be lost in thought, then he headed for the remains of the cemetery. It was equally overgrown, but there was something odd about one of the back corners – starting with an old, dead sunflower.

He hadn’t noticed it at first since its stalk blended in with the rest of the yellowed grass, and its head was bowed with only shriveled, dull petals left clinging to it that he only now saw as he approached. Scott followed him, curious.

There were objects strewn under the lanky, dry grass. Some had begun to disintegrate, clearly made of materials not meant to be left out in the elements long term. But the ones made of metal, or fired clay…

Sausage uttered a mournful whimper as he knelt to pick up a terracotta figurine that very much resembled himself with only one pair of wings. He glanced at the headstone. The carving was weathered but the shape of a sunflower with sun rays around it were still visible. He set down the figurine. “Well… he was remembered for starting out like me. I assume this means he was kind and helpful at one point.”

Scott rested a hand on the seraph’s shoulder. “It wasn’t a pleasant route, but he sort of ended up protecting the rest of the world from a me who didn’t learn that darkness wasn’t the only path to follow.”

“And here we are, all bright and shining.” Sausage cast a glance over the items, then plucked one made of gold out of the grass. He was about to comment when they heard a sort of crystalline tinkling noise, followed by the reversed sound of shattering glass.

A pale glow fell upon them from the middle of the cemetery. Sausage gave a cry of relief and put down the gold figurine, then grabbed Scott’s hand as he stood up. Scott smiled, as well, and they both gazed through the Aether portal that had appeared, seeing the familiar sight of the royal gazebo in Pearl’s realm. Sausage stopped just short of entering it, however, and squeezed Scott’s hand to stop him from going through. “What if it isn’t ours? What if it’s a parallel version?”

His doubts were set aside as Pearl stepped into view, a tearful look of relief on her face as she held out her arms and, even though they couldn’t hear her, she was obviously saying the words, ‘My boys!’

Sausage’s heart soared and he hurried through, still holding tight to Scott.

The portal shuddered behind them, then imploded in on itself, although from their side it merely winked out of existence. They were too busy being engulfed in a goddess-sized hug to notice.

“There you two are! Where have you been? I couldn’t find you anywhere! How in the world did you end up back in the mortal realm?”

Sausage drew back from her embrace. “Wait, you didn’t send us?? Like you did with that floran project??”

Pearl looked at him with confusion. “No? I had no idea you were even gone until you didn’t answer when I tried to summon you! I was looking all over but there was no sign of either of you! What happened?”

Scott gave a somewhat pained smile. “Pearl, do you remember ever losing track of Sausage before in the other world, around the time he was a gravital? We took a little trip through a limbo dimension and met an… interesting pair of people…”

~*~

When Myth broke through the top piece of obsidian covering the cell doorway, he found Smajor scratching at the arm guard with a sharp chip of deepslate that had been part of the debris from earlier. The cursed angel eyed him warily.

Smajor merely held up the arm guard to show him what he had been doing. “I’m adding the count for you. Had to finish off that last set of tallies, huh?” He grinned.

Myth wasn’t amused. “I need to put a new door on, so get ready for number one hundred and six.”

“How about I just sit here and behave, and we not do the stabbing. Here! I’ll even do this…” Smajor gingerly set the arm guard down in the middle of the floor along with the slate chip – then he pushed the small pile of other bits of debris that he had gathered next to it. Lastly, he nudged the clock over as well to show he had nothing else at his disposal. Then he sat down on the bed with his hands pinned under his legs. “There, see? I’ll be good.”

“We’ll see how long that lasts.”

Smajor shrugged and looked off to the side with a blank expression. Myth watched him for a few seconds, then worked on removing the second one. Smajor heard him throw down the pickaxe as soon as the block was out of the way, and looked over to see him pointing his sword into the cell. He uttered an exasperated noise. “Hey, Myth? Maybe I’m TIRED OF DYING. So just put the stupid door on and we’ll go back to what we were doing before. You want to stay stuck in this dark chamber forever? Then fine, we’ll do that.”

“Actually, this is temporary, now that there’s a giant hole to the surface directly outside and some other idiots could stumble in here at any moment. But since you want to stay alive, you get a new door until I figure out where to go.”

“Oh, very good point. Wouldn’t want to start adding anyone else to your body count. Or was it only your double that you wanted to see dead? Bit of a reflection you weren’t happy to look into, hmm?”

“How about you also sit silently before I change my mind about killing you again.”

Smajor adjusted his legs while smiling, keeping his hands where they were. Who needed a physical weapon when he had delicious irony as a means of pouring salt into wounds?

~*~

Later, when she was alone, Pearl paced around the perimeter of the gazebo, her mind abuzz with thoughts of parallel versions of people. She stopped at one point to wave a hand over the reflecting pool, bringing up a sepia-tone vision of a world from the past.

She watched it for a moment, then let out a distressed sigh and began to pace around again, hands clasped tightly behind her back.

An unfamiliar voice called out from the direction of the pool. “Goddess PearlescentMoon, we need to have words with you.”

“We are one of the higher deities, responsible for matters of the spirit which are involved with all living things. That includes souls. You have something to answer for…”

Behind them, the pool returned to the image of the sepia-washed world just as a figure with a crown of red and gold stepped into view.

~ The End ~

#alsmp #alsmp fanfic #alsmpshipping #mythicalsausage #scott smajor #this AU is purely self indulgent at this point sorry #soul liminality #soul liminality 2 #actual!angel!sausage #starborne!scott #goddess!pearlescentmoon #lunar yarns #look I found some spoons!

12 notes · View notes