HCS8 Scar + 🏵️
Snippet from a non-existant fic
Excerpt from “Before The Fall” - 8 times Scar charms the Void. #3.
It’s colder this time, Scar acknowledges numbly. He’s gotten used to it, by this point, the panic catching in his chest as gravity guides his plummeting form long since having fallen out somewhere along the way. Maybe it landed with the animals littered above the chasm. Did they ever worry about falling in? No one ever talked about their feelings. Maybe they were scared.
He should probably be more scared.
He considers his inventory, briefly - whatever he could recall he had on him. His elytra, some armor; that’d suck to replace. Grian would probably give it to him anyways. His hat had drifted away somewhere above him. (An image flickered in his mind of the hat landing gracefully onto the head of their CEO’s statue. It’d probably suit him.) Everything else was negligible.
Was it taking longer than usual? He could swear it was taking longer. Or maybe he was just feeling particularly sluggish this descent. He didn’t remember the Boatem Hole being this deep. He had only just passed the first deepslate. It was getting colder. It wasn’t usually this cold.
Finally, the bedrock sweeps by him, shifting into a slate sky above and growing smaller and smaller as the Void prickles at his back. The heat seeps from his body in an instant as darkness envelops him. Fear rears in his mind, far overdue, finally prompting him to gape at the lack of air. Sudden weight presses against him from all sides, and the first tick of damage wracks his body. A thousand words catapult through his head all at once, battling to be pushed out with his breath.
Wait, they say, Please! Stop! Hold on! Not again! Ouch! It’s cold! It’s dark!
Instead what falls out of his mouth is “Your pants!”
Very articulate, Scar.
But for a moment the cold ebbs (or maybe that’s the sudden onset of hypothermia. He doesn’t know how this works). The pressure eases. Despite himself, he continues.
“Give me your pants,” he demands Nothing, surprising himself with his own even tone. There is reprieve. A bubble of Void around him, ever brief, like even the fabric of the Universe itself is baffled by his nonsense.
The second damage tick takes longer than it should, but eventually the weight and darkness crashes over him again. He presses on.
“I mean it!” A third damage tick, but it’s weaker. Much weaker than it should be. “Do you even have pants?” How is he even still speaking? There’s no air, but somehow he feels as though the blanket of darkness is waiting, morbidly curious for him to continue. To watch him dance. He’s always been one to put on a show.
“I give you all my items- so many items, do you know how hard those are to get? And my XP! Probably hundreds of levels worth!” His voice tilts towards giddy. He straightens his jabot. “Do you know how we respawn up there? Butt naked! Scared in our underwear - if even! And you’re down here, keeping all our things.” He veers tones - what does it matter; he’s not sure his audience can answer. “What do you do with it, anyways?”
The pressure eases again, now rumbling gently against him, curious. There’s no answer, but the fourth tick of damage doesn’t even take half a heart. He’s regenerating health, now. The Void doesn’t seem to care. He rotates in the dead space (he doesn’t even question how, simply wills it. It’s the logical thing to do, after all; face his customer like a businessman should.) and leans on his cane.
“Tell ya what, since you’re already taking the literal clothes off my back- the elytra, armor, tools, XP, you can keep. Might as well make it a whole set, right? Wouldn’t want you to be all mismatched; gotta keep fashionable these days! But I get your pants and keep the copper, hm?”
The void shifts. Another tick. Hesitant.
“Okay, okay - you drive a hard bargain, but you didn’t let me finish! I’ve got about three stacks here,” He thumbs through them, exhibiting his wares to the lack of audience. “I keep two, maybe two and a half? I’ll make you somethin’ nice with it, pay you back later - it’s an investment! I get pants now, you get more of other people’s pants in the future, plus my pants as a down payment.”
The Void considers him again, and for a moment the nothingness beneath his feet is solid enough to support his weight. For a moment the darkness around him sparkles brightly. For a moment, he is suddenly warm.
Goodtimewithscar fell out of the world.
“Scar?” Grian pokes his head through the bedroom door. Scar blinks at him, offering a weary smile as he slides out of his bed.
“Do you need a Perhaps You Perished Par-” Grian’s voice catches, falls. His brows furrow as he cocks his head.
“...Did you get new pants?”