This excellent scene from @theminecraftbee about Scar being increasingly bloodthirsty got me thinking, "If Scar is red, then Grian is green- does that mean he *can't* kill?"
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"Resist resisting," Grian mumbles, huddled into a corner of the N.A.R. rock. Feathers on his left wing twitch and puff up, and he shakes them out irritably. His wings could have a mind of their own, and they never seemed to enjoy lies-
The thought stops. Truncates.
There's something cold inside him. His chest is filled with sludge. Maybe cornstarch and water, because the only thing it seems to slow to a stop is decisive action. Decisive thought.
Grian thinks in slow and indirect ways about how to thaw himself out. He already tried to screw up flying, screw up falling, dashed himself to death at the last second in the hopes that an unexpected respawn might dislodge the ooze.
It didn't work. Nothing happened.
So instead he goes to check his profits, and discovers dozens of nonsense emeralds paying for hard-earned concrete powder. He wants to kill-
No. He doesn't. That thought process is dissolved as soon as it forms.
Grian grits his teeth and stares at the emeralds and directs his thoughts to wanting to calm down. Wanting inaction, maybe Scar killing him will help him do nothing. The coldness in his chest lets the thought remain. He takes off for Scar's base.
As soon as he lands and gets a full look at Scar, Grian can tell something is wrong. He's flushed, despite the balmy weather in Scarland, and his fingers twitch, and he never stops holding his bow. Grian very carefully does not consider what could be wrong, or why that might be.
Or maybe he does, and there's not even enough left of those thoughts to notice their absence. The edges of his thoughts feel raw, worn down. He shivers.
Grian says, "I need you to stop me starting a resistance, " and Scar moves.
He doesn't just shoot, which is a surprise given Grian's all but given him an invitation, but he can't seem to stop moving, putting down chairs and tapping his foot and rambling psychobabble. There's something miserable in Scar's feverish gaze, something hot and angry and hungry.
Grian realizes they're both trapped.
He nearly throws up when the cold allows that thought to remain.
Beads of sweat are welling up on Scar's forehead, and Grian figures that they might as well hurry up with the inevitable.
"Scar, please. If you don't kill me right now I'm going to start a resistance-"
The words taste like chalk in his mouth, but they have the desired effect: tension evaporates from Scar instantly, and he grins sharply and readies his bow.
Grian chants "Do it."
Scar doesn't shoot. He's trembling with an arrow nocked and aimed. Still trying to resist whatever is haunting them, and Grian feels a burst of pride that Scar is able to overcome the pressure in his head at all.
Grian says, "I want you to do it," trying to imbue it with gratitude, with forgiveness.
"Of course," Scar says, sounding like relief and affection and grief and certainty.
The arrows punch through his chest in rapid succession, and for a moment Grian feels warm.
And then he is back in bed, cold and staring at the ceiling.
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