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Pix sifts through the gravel of yet another collapsed empire. The brush sweeps, and sweeps, and sweeps at the debris, trying to uncover anything the ruins might have to offer. Maybe a diamond or an old relic, a statue or a book. Anything that would make this all worthwhile.
He’s not too sure which empire he’s at, maybe not even an empire at all. After the rift exploded it managed to wreck nearly everything, making one old ruin look like any other. It’s all just the same motions again and again, hoping that this time will be different, that this time he’ll find anything at all.
While he doesn’t regret gaining immortality, he does miss having friends. The only people he sees these days are the rare straggler or confused wanderer. He misses the other emperors – but they will all be back soon enough. It’s been, what, fifty years by now? Not too many more to go. The time will pass by quicker than it had before. He has things to do and places to go, plenty of stuff to keep his mind from wandering too far away from him. At least that’s what he’s been telling himself.
Staying sane is difficult when you don’t have anything living to ground you in reality.
The tool brushes away some more rock and dust to reveal something round. Pix squints at it, sweeping at the debris quicker, trying to get a better look.
A thin coat of dust covers the item, dulling what looks to be a red color. Pix coughs as he carefully lifts it from the sediment and does his best to wipe away the grime, the particles swirling through the air and into his orifices.
It’s heavier than he expected it to be. Sturdier, not fragile like the artifacts he’s used to finding. His hands cup the base of the object gently. It’s circular and a red similar to mangrove, with dark teal spots scattered around it in a nonsensical pattern. The gears in Pix’s head turn as he tries to figure out what exactly it is, searching through the halls of his brain for anything similar. He unfortunately comes up with nothing.
He taps it, and it seems to be hollow. Maybe it’s an egg of some type? It’s egg shaped, that’s for sure. If it is an egg, then there might have been a living creature in it once. He doubts anything could still be alive after being buried in the dirt for Death knows how long. After he’s thoroughly brushed all of the grime off, he carefully places it into his bag and continues his search for artifacts.
The moon is high in the sky by the time Pix has settled down and created his own little campsite for the night. He leans against a fallen tree as a small fire crackles in front of him, providing just enough light to see.
With nothing else to do, Pix begins humming. It’s an old tune, he’s not sure when or where he’d picked it up. It sounds like a fallen empire, like somewhere that’s been long forgotten by everyone but him. It’s nothing special – there’s no lyrics or special beats to it; just Pix and the sounds of nature all around him. The fire twists and turns as if it’s dancing along with him. Music has always been a great way to pass the time.
Time. Time is a funny thing, isn’t it? It’s always there, always passing by without a care in the world, threatening to leave him behind. Pix holds a lot of time in his mind, his heart, his bones. Countless minutes and hours all in this one vessel that he happens to own. Time should have worn him down by now, but he carries on, continues walking and breathing and existing when he shouldn’t still be. He’s seen everything he could think of by now, all of the wonders of the world and more. But there’s still things beneath the surface waiting to be dug up, waiting for Pix to dig up, aching and yearning under the dirt to see sunlight once more.
So he passes the time with trivial things, things he’ll forget about in a day or two. There’s nothing else he can do. Eventually, his friends will come back as he was promised, but until then it’s just Pix and the sun and the stars.
Beside him, his bag rustles. A difference in the otherwise unmoving atmosphere.
Pix’s eyebrows furrow. His bag doesn’t usually move on its own. He peeks into it, only to find everything just the same as he left it. One by one, he takes items out, determined to find the source of movement. Everything seems normal until he pulls out the red egg he’d dug up earlier.
Right through one of the bright teal dots is a crack, so small he’s surprised he noticed. It definitely wasn’t there before. Just as he pulls it towards his face to get a closer look, the crack grows, and something inside it moves, nearly making him drop the thing. Something is in there, something alive. He doesn’t know how anything managed to live through being buried for what’s probably centuries. Maybe some sort of hibernation? Regardless of its survival skills, it’s hatching now and Pix needs to be ready for whatever it is.
It would be nice to have something else alongside him on his wandering. It gets lonely after a while – he’s not sure exactly how long, but it’s been enough to make him feel a little crazy at times.
Carefully, he positions the egg on the ground, close to the fire so it won’t be cold. Pix doesn’t really need to eat anymore thanks to his deal with Death, so he probably doesn’t have anything for the creature when it emerges unless they have a taste for paper and metal. There’s lots of plants nearby, so hopefully it’s not a carnivore. He could scrounge up some berries or leaves if he tried hard enough.
The crack begins to grow larger as the creature fights its way out. Pix doesn’t intervene, not wanting to get in the way of mother nature.
He sits and watches and waits as the shell begins to crumble away, falling onto its side as the being inside gets more desperate to escape. It slowly wiggles its way out, unsteady and like nothing Pix has ever seen before.
First he sees the bright yellow snout. Attached to said snout is a large circular body that seems far too big for the creature. It’s a pale red with dark teal along its back, covering it like a blanket. Its fur is long, dragging against the dirt as the creature moves. He then notices the third set of legs hiding underneath all of the hair, which is probably the weirdest part about this thing. Well, none of it’s normal, but he certainly wasn’t expecting three pairs of legs. Pix thought there would be two at most.
The creature waddles forward before clumsily falling onto its stomach. Pix can’t stop himself from chuckling, which makes the thing look up at him. “I have never seen anything like you before,” He says quietly, crossing his arms and leaning against the fallen tree again. The creature stands back up on shaky legs and attempts to walk towards Pix.
Its nose wiggles as it sniffs the ground. Pix watches it, utterly fascinated as it begins to paw at the dirt where it had been sniffing, as if trying to dig something up. He’s surprised it can even see past the curtain of long fur hanging in front of its eyes.
A few more attempts at prodding the soil go by, but the creature doesn’t find anything. Its method of digging is definitely inefficient – Pix is much quicker.
Though it’s also the creature’s first day alive. So that’s not a fair comparison.
It eventually makes it to where Pix is sitting. It sniffs his pants, nose wiggling, then lifts one soft hoof to poke at one of Pix’s pockets. He raises an eyebrow at it, confused, but shoves his hand into the fabric to take out whatever’s in it. He comes up with a small amethyst shard, a broken piece of metal he’d picked up ages ago, and a seed he dug up a few weeks prior. Pix holds all three items in his palm, showing them to the creature.
The creature sniffs at his hand, then quickly takes the seed in its mouth and swallows it. It sits back down, pleased to have found some sort of snack. “Hey! That was a piece of history!” Pix scolds the thing, but it seems completely unbothered. It begins sniffing at his pants again, probably trying to find another tasty treat. That seed wasn’t anything super important, but it was something he’d excavated. He’d been meaning to figure out exactly what type of plant it would grow into, but now he’ll never know.
Fortunately, that doesn’t bother him too much, because the creature has moved on to sniffing his shirt and arms. “You’re a very nosy little thing. A sniffer. Yeah, that’s what you are; a sniffer.”
Pix grins. For all he knows, he’s just discovered a new species, so he gets to name it. Are there more sniffers in the world? Or more sniffer eggs, waiting to be dug up and brought to life? These are all very important things he needs to figure out. He’s got centuries until his friends come back, there’s plenty of time to take a little detour.
“You need a name,” He tells the sniffer, who in reply sits down and stares at him, unsuccessful in finding another snack amongst Pix’s many pockets. “Hmm… Sniffy? No, that’s boring. How about Stinky? No, that also doesn’t work, you’re not stinky at all.”
The fire crackles as Pix sifts through his mind, trying to come up with a suitable name for his new companion.
The sniffer wiggles its nose at him. Clearly, it will not be of any help.
“Ooh! I’ve got it!” Pix points at the creature. “You can be Sniffer-riffs! Like me, Pixlriffs, but as a sniffer. I’ll call you Riffs for short. Does that sound good?”
Riffs slowly blinks at him. Pix takes this as a yes, then reaches his hand out to pat Riffs on his nose. The sniffer groans and lays down, resting his head on Pix’s lap, very tired from all the excitement. Pix yawns as well, realizing just how late it is. He lets his head fall back so he can look at the stars. It’s incredible how the world can change, but the one thing that’s stayed the same throughout centuries is the fact that the stars have always been there, looking down at him.
One of his hands gently pets the sniffer’s back. His fur is soft, similar to the feeling of moss.
Pix closes his eyes. The fire continues burning and Riffs quietly snores, already fast asleep. And for once, Pix isn’t alone, and he’s not accompanied by only himself. There’s a living, breathing creature right next to him that’s just as alive as he is.
Oh, how he’d missed living alongside someone.