#my hels stuff will ALWAYS have big unreality because i think it's fun but you know. watch out

[theminecraftbee]

“You aren’t meant to be here,” the wither skeleton bouncer at the front of Hels’s Kitchen says to a man in full plate armor. “How’d you know where we are?”

“I know a guy.”

“You’re -”

“Go inside and say something about how being a manifestation of my subconscious or whatever goes both ways. I know he’s here. Just... I’ll be cool, I promise, I’m not here to cause problems. I’d leave my sword out here, but...”

The bouncer snorts. “Probably for the best. You good?”

“It’s complicated,” Wels says, sighing. “Look, I know I’m not really supposed to be in Hels’s Kitchen, or know where it is, or be able to get here, but we both know the rules of reality are a bit... bendy... around you all, so...”

“Sure, I’ll go ask inside if there’s a subconscious running around,” says the bouncer. “Although, that sounds awfully like a figment of your imagination. Sure we’re the problem ones?”

“Not at all these days,” mutters Wels.

He waits a polite five minutes. When the bouncer doesn’t come back, Welsknight shrugs and walks in. He doesn’t expect much to make sense today, given that he’s indulging in... this... but he has a goal, and that goal is something he’s going to meet. Then, hopefully, he can never come back here or have to deal with the consequences of either his actions with the cloning machine or his horrific tendencies towards repression - he’s yet to be sure which one it is, or if it’s somehow both, but hey, the fact that he’s self aware about it has gotta count for something, right?

When he walks into the bar, it’s empty, except for a man lounging in one of the booths. Wels gets the sense it’s not meant to be empty, but like he said, he’s here to indulge in nonsense, not deal in reality.

Helsknight waves at Wels from a booth. “Fancy seeing you here.”

“I have questions.”

“Well, I don’t know if I have answers you don’t. I’m you. Or, you know, part of you.”

Wels blinks. “More straightforward than usual.”

“It’s not really a secret, is it? I told you that in the rap battle.”

“Fair, I think,” Wels says. He sits down. The booth is made of cheap linoleum. It’s cracked in the heat. “I’m here about two things. The moon, and Xisuma.”

“The moon? Why do you think the bar’s empty, Wels.”

“There was a bouncer.”

“Right, right.” Welsknight gets the distinct sense that Helsknight is trying not to roll his eyes. (This, Wels thinks, is why this was a last resort.)

“Fine. Moon’s why you’re all gone. I’ll buy that. Makes as much sense as anything I, you, or the world would come up with for that one. Now, Xisuma.”

“What’s wrong with the dear admin?”

“Don’t act like you don’t know.”

“I’m not omniscient.”

“You just said you’re me.”

“Humor me,” Helsknight says, oddly intense.

“He’s not himself. Evil X has done something to him. I’d say mind games, but honestly? Seems too subtle.”

Helsknight is silent.

“And it’s... Xisuma is strong. Not that - you don’t have to be weak to -”

“I wouldn’t say he is weak,” Helsknight says. It hits oddly. “Naive, sure, but weak?”

“What do you know?“

Helsknight is silent for a long time, which Wels doesn’t know what to make of. Helsknight hasn’t typically been the quiet type. Solitary, certainly. Sardonic, sure. But quiet? Not like this. Not when there’s something to throw in Welsknight’s face, another weapon in the game Wels is playing against himself.

“He asked me a question,” Helsknight says, finally.

“Who?”

“Why,” Helsknight says, “Evil X.”

Welsknight purses his lips and thinks of Xisuma showing him an empire, and also of other things, burning at the edge of his memory.

“And you told him?”

Helsknight looks out the window. “I told him to convince you himself.”

It is Welsknight’s turn to be quiet. “To convince you,” Welsknight says.

“We both know Evil X is using mind control, and that neither of us know anything about that,” Helsknight says instead of answering. “Why did you bother with this charade?”

“Nothing like talking to yourself to figure out a problem. Isn’t there this thing about rubber ducks?”

“I refuse to be compared to a rubber duck.”

Wels cracks a smile, for all he feels like his chest is lead. “There you go. A personality trait. Sometimes you lose track of those. Sure you don’t have any answers about the moon?”

"Do you?”

“Goodnight, Hels.”

“Goodnight, Wels. Have fun on the way out.”

Welsknight leaves, knowing full well that in a few hours, he’ll not be able to find the bar again. When he closes the door, he sees the bouncer. Politely, he waves, and he goes back towards the overworld. Two ghasts nearly kill him, and Wels decides to blame them on Helsknight. Feels like appropriate thanks, giving the man credit for a kill he didn’t get in return for an honest answer.

(In return for - no part of Wels had truly considered it. Reassurance. Well, that will be a weapon next time they talk, Wels thinks, and he can’t bring himself to be mad about it.)

#hermitcraft #welsknight #helsknight #...i don't think i actually used that tag last time #unreality #my hels stuff will ALWAYS have big unreality because i think it's fun but you know. watch out #a bee fic #had this thought in the middle of the night and had to write it: title of my autobiography