Chapter Text
Herobrine does not like this Rada person, and he sincerely hopes he's making that obvious.
He's known him for about an hour, and so far, he's smug, rude, and far too mysterious for the god's taste.
...
Regardless, he's not leaving.
"So." He grins, far too close to Herobrine's side and only moving closer when he sidesteps away. "What is it you people do anyway?"
Herobrine sighs. "...Pardon?"
"C'mon dude, how long have you all just been walking?" Rada gestures back at the large group of monsters behind them, and Herobrine pointedly ignores the protective instinct that flashes in his limbs.
"I don't see how that's your business." The god all but seethes.
"I'm here to keep an eye on you." Rada shrugs. "I already said that."
"There's a difference between watching and interrogating."
Rada takes a long drag from his newest cigarette.
...
"Interrogating's more fun." He grins.
Herobrine squints. "I don't like you."
"I can tell."
"Good."
Another drag. Irritation itches at the back of Herobrine's head.
"Seriously though." Rada continues, despite all outside stimuli communicating he shouldn't. "Doesn't it get boring?"
Herobrine takes a moment to seriously consider whether or not he wants to answer that question.
Someone beats him to it in the interim.
"No." Zombieswine snorts, Curt and flat and something else Herobrine can't place his finger on.
Rada's eyes gleam with something almost opportunistic. "Riiight. Cuz you'd know all about boredom, wouldn't you?"
Zombieswine's ears prick up.
"Fortresses are boring." Blaise cuts in, flying between the two. "Everyone knows that."
Zombieswine eyes her.
...
Then he sighs.
Brief. Tired.
Fond.
"He knows, Blaise." He says, shoulders slumped forward.
Blaise swivels midair to face him. "Huh?"
"He knew your service number." Zombieswine points out. "Me bein- having been a piglin is way less of a secret than that."
(...He takes such care to use past tense.)
...
(And yet, he still speaks the language.)
"Oh, did we not gather that already?" Maggie questions suddenly. "Sorry, I thought that was obvious."
"Yeah, I got that too." Skellington chimes in from the back.
"I got it cuz Skel started whispering in my ear, like, as soon as it happened." Spider adds.
"I put that together as well." Mucus confirms.
"I stopped listening!" Creep calls, proudly. "What's happening?"
Everyone turns to stare at him.
...
Nearly everyone starts laughing at the same time.
...
Rada stares at the group with a furrowed brow.
...
Fine.
He wants to keep an eye on them?
All he's gonna find is this.
The group stops to rest when the sun starts rising, because of course they do. It's routine, now.
Rada mumbles something under his breath, vaguely displeased, and Herobrine considers that a victory.
He settles down for the day, keeping one close eye on Zupay and a significantly closer one on their new and confusing guest.
...
Zupay falls asleep.
Eventually. Slowly. Paranoia only carries the body so far.
...
Good.
He needs it.
...
Endie's teleporting a lot. Herobrine can hear the faint blip from just beyond the trees, over and over. Sense them moving abruptly back and forth.
...
Herobrine looks around.
All the mortals are asleep. Rada's not, but the triplets have taken it upon themselves to take turns watching him like a hawk, so he isn't too concerned.
...
Eh.
Why not.
He locks onto Endie and teleports right to them.
And they're...
playing in the dirt?
Their hands are caked in half-dried mud, wedged between their fingers and under their claws and in a pile in front of them.
Except...
No, not a pile.
It's a perfect prism, tall and thin, baked into the earth like it belongs there.
Huh.
Strange.
Endie looks up and smiles. "Hi."
...
(He's still not used to being addressed so casually.)
"...Hello." Herobrine replies, all too tentative. And because curiousity is a fickle thing, he follows up with, "What are you doing?"
Endie's eyes light up neon. "Oh! I'm..."
They look down at their little box like it might tell them the answer.
...
Herobrine has to wait a long while before they speak up again.
"I..." They start. Falter. Laugh to themself, just once. "I called him an asshole."
...
"...Rada?" Herobrine prompts.
Endie nods.
"How is that significant?"
Endie shrugs, but they still have an answer ready. "Because I was scared."
Herobrine blinks. "I... see."
...
Endie's hands hover delicately over their little sculpture of nothing.
Their eyes narrow.
"A wall." They trill, more for themself than the god.
Herobrine...
Herobrine sees fit to stay quiet, for now.
"It's not a wall." They say, louder. Still inward. "It makes walls, but..."
They look back up at Herobrine and smile, sheepish but sure. "I make up words sometimes. Things are so vague as is, it... It's easier to understand concepts like fear when there's something physical to attach them to."
"...Like walls?"
Endie nods again. Then focuses back on the block of mud in front of them, sharpening the corners of the box. "Like walls."
A long, deliberate beat.
...
"But if fear is a wall, breaking it down shouldn't have been so nerve-wracking." They explain to no one.
(To themself.)
"So, it makes walls." Endie decides, like it all makes sense in their internal world. "But it's not the walls."
Herobrine sits down beside them, cross legged on the grass. Close to the ground. Approachable, without meaning to be. "You talk about fear like it's alive."
Endie pauses at that. Silent. Considering. "...Huh."
...
Herobrine waits.
"It... definitely moves around. I think." Endie bites their lip, slowly tears their hands away from their block of mud. "Not... independently, always. Sometimes. But it goes where I go. Follows me around, like a..."
They perk up. Glance at their hand. Then they wipe it on the grass, smearing wet dirt along its surface.
Perpendicular to the box. Matching its dimensions like a-
"Shadow." Endie finishes their thought.
"Hm." Herobrine leans back on his hands. "Creative."
"But then... Why does it box me in?" Endie asks the ground. The sky. The world.
(Themself. Always themself.)
"Do you really think your emotions have ulterior motives?" Herobrine asks despite himself.
"Not ulterior." Endie shrugs. "But everything has motives. Silvester wants peace. Spider wants company. Zombee wants to learn."
...
"What's your motive, then?" Herobrine asks.
Endie warbles, tired and a little amused. "I'm still tryna figure that one out."
Herobrine shrugs. "That's a motive."
"Not one I want to stick around forever." Endie says. They tilt their head at their little cube like it's something far more complex. Then they flatten it with a fist and begin molding it together anew. Closer to the ground. Purposeful.
...
"You enjoy taking apart the world." Herobrine observes.
"I enjoy putting it back together." Endie corrects. "Differently. I like making it mean something."
...
"That's a motive." Herobrine repeats, quieter.
"Maybe." Endie trills. "...Sometimes I think about building something bigger. Like the towers in the cities. Something people can exist inside of."
"Like a house?"
"Anything, really." Endie shrugs." A house, a... hospital. I don't know. A school, maybe?"
Herobrine hums in acknowledgement.
"...Yeah. A school would be nice." Endie looks up at the stars, pausing in their work. "Maybe we could put this perpetual field trip to rest."
Herobrine's blank eyes narrow. "We're not a school."
"Aren't we?" Endie tilts their head.
...
"I'm not a teacher." Herobrine states, weakly.
Endie blinks. "...Aren't you?"
...
Herobrine decides that's a question he doesn't want to ask himself. "You've gotten blunt."
Endie's hands flies up near their mouth on instinct. "Have I?"
"Around me, at least." Herobrine shrugs, eyes cast up to the sky.
Endie looks back down at their pile of mud in his peripheral. "...Huh. What do ya know."
Herobrine glances back at them, just for a second, and they're smiling ear to ear. "I knew it."
...
Herobrine doesn't ask what that means.
He just floats up where he is, legs still crossed, and places a hand on Endie's head before he can think better of it. "Get some rest."
Endie chirrs in brief surprise before leaning up into the touch. "I will."
(Herobrine glances at their sculpture one last time before slipping away. The beginnings of what looks like a person, crouched down and reaching out toward the smear in the grass Endie called their shadow.)
...
(Faint enough to ignore, something tinks in his ear.)
(Like a coin being flipped.)