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He is alone, when he falls.
The others are busy—Pearl and Impulse off-world, only Mumbo and Scar near Boatem.
There’s a moment of panic that shots through his veins when he flaps his still-too-new pair of dragon wings and they do nothing but incrementally slow his descent. Then, his memory comes in aid—he has an Elytra on, and fireworks with him. Plenty, even!
He breathes easy then, giggles at his panic, and reaches for said fireworks in his inventory. He’s gazing upwards, seeing the precariously placed stack of boats get smaller by the millisecond. It’s as he passes by the hole in the wall of Impulse’s farms that he grasps at empty air and his inventory fails to present any to him.
The panic comes back full force.
He doesn’t want to lose his items again, not again! Third time this week, and barely Thursday!
He flaps his undeveloped wings and attempts to grasp at the stone around him even as he knows that impact damage would still mean the loss of more than half his inventory, but he’s still falling too fast. He turns in mid-air, watches as the bedrock comes and goes by him and he greets the Endlessness and Nothingness of the Void with a disgruntled frown.
And then, he slows.
He slows down.
“What?” he whispers into the air rushing deep into the abyss.
He stops.
He’s stopped falling, but he’s still going down. Almost- almost like he’s being guided instead of pulled.
He floats, somehow. He floats in frosty Nothingness, he floats.
All air is pulled down, down, down and he with it but he’s floating, h e i s f l o a t i n g w h y ?
A flash of purple—
—there’s no more light being swallowed into the hole
there’s no hole anymore
the Boatem hole isn’t there.
The VWOOP pops in his ear, delayed, distorted and muffled, and he flinches, hands to ears and eyes shut tight and heart pounding and t e r r o r a n d c o n f u s i o n.
There’s a pressure in his chest— he can’t breathe
Tears and purple particles flood his sight when he opens his eyes to gaze down below. The tears turn to ice as soon as they leave his skin, but the particles don’t dissipate. There’s so many—too many.
And his head—his head is pulsating boom boom boom, in time with his heartbeat, in time with the Void.
He feels like he’s being swallowed whole, swallowed by an ice storm, by a blizzard, he feels so sluggish. His hands are so so cold, his feet, his wings—
his lids are heavy, he’s groggy, he’s slipping so deep
he struggles, he squirms, like a fish on land, like prey in the predator’s fangs
purple flashes around his head, his hands, familiarity, he grasps for it for his-
Grian fell out of the world
Grian is alone, when he falls.
He is alone when he wakes in his bed, the icy grip of fear and void still turning his veins to frost.
Grian is alone when he wakes, with no memory of the Void, but with purple in his vision and hands darkened.
End.
A_Selkie_Abroad Thu 11 Nov 2021 01:52PM UTC
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Anonymous Creator Fri 12 Nov 2021 10:06PM UTC
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dontrollthedice Thu 25 Nov 2021 01:16AM UTC
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Anonymous Creator Thu 25 Nov 2021 07:55PM UTC
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