Work Text:
Scar walked along Grian's bridge, making his way over to the parrot hybrid's mega base. He gripped the "You speak when spoken to!" horn carefully in one hand, a smirk on his face. He snuck into Grian's rock base quietly, looking around for the avian. The empty space and unusual silence unnerved him for a moment but he shook it off when he heard shuffling around the corner.
He snuck over, stifling laugher with the horn clasped in his hand, ready to give Grian a scare. The cool, smooth surface of the horn helped keep Scar grounded as he made sure not to make a sound. He turned the corner, lifting the horn up ready to blow before freezing in horror.
Infront of him Grian lay flat on the floor. His wings curled upwords slightly and he was shaking like a leaf. Blood pooled around him out of two large cuts on his lower back. The cuts and pooling blood almost looked like a second pair of wings. Even more blood pooled around his head, that lay on the ground as if moving it would only cause more pain.
Scar dropped the horn immediately, rushing over to Grian as he heard the clang of the horn meeting the floor. He dropped down to his knees, ignoring the blood soaking into his pants. Grian's head lifted up weakly. Tears streamed down his friends face and Scar realized that blood was also falling down Grian's face along with the tears, pouring out of his eyes. It looked as if someone had tried to take the avian's sight, but no one on Hermitcraft would do such a thing.
Scar wanted to hurl.
The iron-like stench of blood clung to the air and Scar didn't think the place would ever be free of the smell. But that's not what's important right now. He gently grabbed Grian's face, trying to stop him from dropping to the ground again. He pulled Grian into a more comfortable position and looked into his dark brown eyes. The whites in his eyes were stained pinkish and his expression was laced with pain. His eyes looked foggy as though he could see right. The blood dripped from Grain's eyes like tears, and it was so quiet small drip, drip, drip sounds could be heard as Grian's blood fell to the ground.
Scar cursed under his breath as he fumbled with his communicator. "I'll get X to come over just stay with me Grian!" He said hurriedly, the words coming out in a quick breath. He struggled to keep the device upright as he sent a private message to Xisuma as quickly as he could telling the admin that Grian was hurt and to come over asap.
"Please stay with me..." He mumbled just loud enough for Grian to hear. He pulled out his sword and cut through Grian sweater, wincing at the severity of the wounds as they cut not only through the thick sweater but all the way to and through Grian's back, ripping the undershirt as well. Whatever had cut him had cut deep. Scar could have sworn the lighting made the blood look slighty purple...
He used the red sweater to cover up the bleeding, putting pressure on it to try and stop the flow of blood. Even though the sweater was already red the blood turned it an even darker shade of scarlet as it stained the clothing, and Scar noitced the blood on the floor had done the same to Grian's parrot-like feathers.
As Scar waited to Xisuma to arrive the pit in his stomach grew. Grian's breath kept on hitching and felt far to shallow. Any attempt to keep his friend conscience seem to be in vain as Grian just grew weaker. At some point Grian's breath turned more rhythmic then before, though still raspy and shallow, and his eyes fell closed. Scar knew that Grian had fallen unconscious, most likely from the blood loss.
He was left in almost mute silence. Nothing could be heard except he and Grian's breathing. He was at least glad the dripping of blood had stopped.
After what felt like an eternity Scar heard rockets sound from outside the base, and let out a sigh of relief. A few seconds later a familiar green armored man walked in. Xisuma rushed over when he caught sight of Grian. Scar could have sworn he saw something purple flickering in the light.
The admin crouched down and started grabbing things from his inventory. "I've brought medical supplies. I'm going to need you to show me what's bleeding the most." X instructed. Scar easily complied. He lifted off the sweater, cringing at the blood sticking to the red wool. Xisuma seemed to get even more worried when he saw how extreme the gashes in Grian's back were.
They started working almost roboticly, both of them having medical know-how. Scar was working on cleaning out the wounds, making sure Grian wouldn't get an infection. After they were clean they worked togother to hand stitch the cuts back togother. It was a skill most players have learned in a world with zombies, creepers, and other hostile mobs. Though Scar still isn't sure what could have done this to Grian.
Xisuma bandaged up Grian's back, putting some splash healing onto the bandages. They then moved onto Grian's eyes. They couldn't do much. Xisuma had concluded that someone or something must have used magic. They wrapped them up with bandages as well, with more splash healing in order to help the healing process speed up.
As they finally fished X looked over at Scar and said, "I think we better move him outta here. I'll take him to a clean bed, can you clean this up a bit?" Scar nodded, already getting some things togother, such as the blood stained sweater. He had to get some water to clean up the blood. Then again he might just have to replace the whole floor.
X carefully carried Grian out as Scar lagged behind, looking at the bloody floor. Now that he was looking straight at it with no distraction he could really see the purple tint now.
Then something blinked. His head whiped around to see what it was.
An eye stared back.
On the ground, as if it was a part of the stone, was an eye with a purple iris. He looked around frantically as saw dozens more eyes blink open. What in the Void's name!
Then as quickly as he saw them they blinked closed and didn't open again. He rubbed his eyes and looked again. The purple tint of was gone.
What just happened?
One spot of blood stood out. He walked over to it and saw a symbol drawn in purple blood.
A rectangle with the corners broken off.
The symbol of the Watchers.
‘ ˥
L .
