#yes yes i stretched how divine travel works a bit shhh

[sparxwrites]

(if you don't know what divine travel is, a) this won't make much sense, but b) you should because it's cool as hell and i've been conceptually obsessed with it for years now) cw for animal death

“We’re never getting out of here.”

“Shut up, Scar.

“We’re going to be stuck here forever.”

“Scar. Shut up.”

“We’re going to die, all alone–” He sing-songs it, drags out the o into an oooo. “–on this horrible world, full of creepers and zombies and things, in the moon–”

“Scar!” Grian, bloody up to his wrists, bent over desecrated corpses of three white rabbits, looks up at the man pacing circles around him. There’s a loop of viscera around two fingers of his left hand. His right thumb’s tucked just barely under a small, still heart. There’s a deep crease between his brows, dark bags under his eyes.

Scar, politely, stops pacing. Grian’s gaze is a physical weight. “What?” he says, shrugs. “It’s the truth. This is the third one of these we’ve been on, and we died in all the rest of them–”

“Yes, because someone couldn’t– 

“–and it was really unpleasant, especially that last one with the piglin–” 

“And who’s fault was–!”

“And then those things, in the moon–” He sings that, too, a little wobbly up-and-down like you’d do to make a child laugh. The fear behind it is tangible. “And they keep laughing at me, every time, and I can feel them watching when I–”

“Scar! Will you shut up and listen to me! Please.” Grian pulls his hands free, swipes lank and sweaty hair out of his eyes, off his forehead. “Listen to me. Scar. We’re not dying here. Not today.”

“Well, you might not be, but, as you so kindly keep pointing out, I–” Scar’s pouting, lower lip stuck out, hands in the pockets of his obscenely short shorts. He kicks a rock; it bounces, rolls, comes to a stop next to the glassy, bulging eye of one of the dead rabbits.

“We’re not bloody dying here today,” says Grian, triumphantly, “because I know where the End portal is.” He looks up, around, turns to meet the horizon with his gaze. The world stretches out in front of him, endless, wild, impossible. Foreign. But not entirely unknown – not any more.

“What? How?!” Scar’s staring at him, wide-eyed, something like hope in the set of his brow and mouth for the first time in weeks.

“Divine travel,” says Grian, baring his teeth in a grin. He holds up his hands, bloody, the crimson drying to brown in the cracks of his knuckles. The rabbits are stretched out on the grass, neat anatomical specimens, disembowelled, a fortune read in the warm trail of their removed organs. A map. “I know where we need to go.” He pauses, his eyes alight with all the fire of the sun rising in a halo behind his head. “Scar. Scar. We’re not dying here. Not today. We’re getting out.”

#hermitcraft #hermitfic #desert duo #scarian #i guess or whatever #fic #hermits crafting #also hi guys! not dead. just very busy and barely in fandom any more #but here have some prompt games #prompt was 'divine' #yes yes i stretched how divine travel works a bit shhh