rainy day
for @pixelperfunctory as part of @extremetimedchallengeexchange
also on AO3
(1602 words)
It’s raining, hard. The whole server seems to be on pause, no one willing to wander to cause mischief when the rain is coming down so hard you might drown on no-longer-dry land. Of course, that doesn’t mean things aren’t happening. Things are always happening in the Death Games and we’re always interested in a new story.
To begin, we sweep down from a mountain of goats with only one horn, over a white, modern home surrounded by open fields, through a forest, and into a small, unlit cave on the side of a mountain. Hunched in a corner in the back wall is Martyn, clothes damp and blond hair slicked down with sweat and rain. At the entrance of the cave, leaning against the opposite wall, is Cleo, their curls dark from rain. A small puddle has formed where they stand, water slowly sliding down their armor. Underneath, her clothes are soaked and, though she won’t show it, though Martyn knows it, she’s slowly growing colder.
Neither of them has spoken a word beyond an initial “who’s there?” and an exasperated “of course!” Neither of them will. Until the rain dies down, they will stare at each other from opposite corners of a 2 by 3 cave in silence. When the rain finally ends, Cleo will leave without a word. “Pool party at the mid-century mansion!” Martyn will call after them, and he won’t know if they heard him. For now, we leave them in a smoldering silence, pulling up and out through the forest, to the top of an unfinished tower.
Pearl sits on cobblestone blocks that will, eventually, become the floor of her house. She’s cold and soaked and miserable but she can’t bring herself to move. She’s two blocks away from the ladder and the ground and Tilly, but still, she lays on the floor with her eyes closed. She could’ve thrown up a temporary roof when the rain started, but the cobble quickly became slick and, no matter how mad she is at Scott, she isn’t looking to die today. Instead, she lies on the stone and, not for the last time, quietly wishes Scott would forgive her. She’ll stay here until the rain ends and then a little longer.
Let’s leave her for now.
From Pearl’s tower, we float over a birch forest and around the mountain to Red Velvet Keep. Inside, safe and dry, Grian cuts down wheat from their random patches of farmland. His secret store of cocoa beans is safe in his pocket and Scar is out with the pandas and it’s the perfect time to bake some cookies. The rain hammers down on the wood planks overhead, but Grian trusts his building skills to keep him dry. He hums tunelessly to himself as he mixes together the dough. BigB is Red now but, just as he trusts the planks to hold the water out, he trusts BigB to hold them together. He’ll drop off the cookies in another chest later and hopefully steal a few moments together and it will be enough because they will make it enough.
Outside the Keep and down amongst the pandas and the bamboo, is Scar. Between the canopy of trees and the mass of fur of several pandas around him, he’s managed to keep mostly dry. When the rain started, he considered going inside, but being inside means pretending not to see Grian sneakily make BigB cookies, and outside means holding a baby panda against his chest and cooing softly as she sleeps. The choice was easy. He bends over the Jellie in his lap and kisses her forehead. Who needs a soulmate that only stays with you in one server, when you have a cat that will find you in every server?
Scar knows he’ll be okay, at least as okay as you can be in the middle of a Death Game. And he will be, at least for now, so we move away, across the ravine to the ship, high above the engorged river that rushes below.
Inside, Joel rushes around, desperately patching up leaks. Etho lounges on his mostly dry bed and watches, amused. “This ship wouldn’t last a minute on the water.” He remarks calmly. Hidden, a smile grows at Joel’s frustration.
“Well, it’s a good thing we’re on land.” Joel hisses back. He’s on top of a table, frantically trying to fix a joint in the ceiling. This whole thing is ridiculously embarrassing. He’s in the middle of a Death Game and he’s patching up a boat that he lives in. Why did he build a boat in the first place? He could’ve built a box, called it a day, and got to killing—instead he decided to try and impress Etho. And now he’s running around not killing anyone and definitely not impressing Etho. “Do you want to maybe help?” He asks when he’s finished.
Etho just huffs a laugh. “Nah, I think you’ve got it.” Joel growls and moves on to the next leak. He can’t wait to be Red. He needs to kill someone before he kills Etho—and himself.
Back across the ravine, in their ranch house, Tango is curled into himself under their sole bed. He was supposed to be feeding the cows while Jimmy herded the chickens back into the automated coop. Jimmy had to herd them back in because Tango, when he was supposed to be checking on the egg production, accidentally broke the glass and got too frustrated to fix the problem on his own. If it wasn’t raining, he’d be outside in the wheat field where he can’t hurt another breathing thing, but it is raining and so he’s inside, under the bed, while the cows eat the wheat he dropped in their pen.
Tango hears the shuffle of Jimmy’s footsteps up the cobble stairs, hears him pause at the top of the stairs, feels him stare down at whatever hint of Tango he can see, all pathetic and mopey. Tango is mourning a monster that would’ve killed him without hesitation, and he doesn’t know how to explain that to his soulmate.
Jimmy sits down, leaning against the bed, and Tango startles. Jimmy doesn’t speak, just slides his hand under the bed until it’s within Tango’s reach, palm up. He doesn’t speak and, hesitantly, Tango reaches out to hold his hand. Neither of them speaks. They sit and listen to the rain and squeeze each other’s hands occasionally and Tango feels understood.
We’ll leave them for now and make our way down and up the grassy hills to another ranch. Scott sits on the floor of his house, slowly and methodically polishing his chestplate. He can practically see his face reflected in the glistening diamond, but still, he works. Cleo is safe, he tells himself with every swipe. Cleo is safe; she messaged him when the rain started that she found a cave to wait out the rain in.
Scott, not for the last time, wishes he and Cleo were properly linked, if only to truly know her pain as his own, to know her safety as his own. Instead, he feels like his clothes are soaked even though he’s perfectly dry, feels a chill making a home in his bones even as the fire in his home crackles. Scott, not for the last time, wishes Pearl would take care of herself if only to keep himself out of misery.
But she won’t move for as long as the rain lasts, so in misery he will remain, while we move down, sinking beneath layers of stone and through underground systems until the caves open up into a massive cavern. Ren and BigB are moving, working, with the unnatural precision of Reds. The rain has barely registered with either of them, so focused on the growing horde of zombies in front of them.
Ren has finished digging the tunnel and his boots leave wet footprints as he paces along the wall of the zombie pen. They work together to arm the zombies, throwing down stone swords and picking up the potatoes and carrots the zombies drop to accept the weapons. BigB has put a few potatoes in a furnace and he passes a cooked one to Ren with a soft smile. Ren accepts it with a kiss on BigB’s forehead. The rain will not dampen their plans. Their excitement grows as the horde does. They will taste blood tonight.
Enough of that. We drift down the river of zombies, untouched by their swords, and up the pillar of bubbles into a copper-lined swimming pool. Impulse and Bdubs are drifting around each other, laughing quietly.
Guilt from his earlier death shades Impulse’s expressions, though it’s only truly visible when Bdubs is not looking. Impulse laughs appropriately when Bdubs announces he will try a handstand but as Bdubs dives, his face collapses. Fondness and shame war for control of his face, while Bdubs flails his legs. When Bdubs rights himself, he clears expression and laughs, easily. The pool party wasn’t their best idea, but maybe it will do them all some good to have a moment of fun. This moment, swimming in the rain, is good, tinged as it is with guilt.
Well, you and I know how the rest of the story goes. We don’t need to hear the rest of it again. We rise up from the center of the pool and pass over the nearby jungle. A moment by the pandas—look that one just sneezed!—and then onwards out of this server. Time for another story, one we haven’t heard before.
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