#he directly mentioned empires s1 in his /first episode/ and i'm making that EVERYBODY'S PROBLEM

[syn4k]

Old habits die hard.

Pixlriffs knows this because as soon as fWhip explains what the little copper coin he holds up in one hand does, shining under the sweltering sun of a humid jungle, he feels a little shiver run down his back.

"No lore," says fWhip, hand holding the coin still raised, gaze sweeping the crowd. Pix doesn't know if he's being serious or not. "We're all just friends playing Minecraft here."

Someone snickers. Sausage says something under his breath that might be a swear and might be an apology. fWhip flips the coin with one elegant flick of the thumb and with that, they're all off.

Pix can't help it. The rule is broken in half by the time the sun sets.

"And anyways," Pix continues, turning to the chicken that stands next to him with huge, innocent eyes, "if fWhip was being serious about that rule then he shouldn't have made this the premise and invited me, of all people. Like, come on. He was there for that. He should have known this was coming."

The chicken does not respond. Pix does not expect it to. He's just being silly while talking to himself, anyways. Chickens can't talk, the night has arrived, and he has one hell of a hole to dig.

He'd made up his mind about fifteen minutes in that he wasn't going to add Mending to his tools, he wasn't going to let them dissolve into dust, and he was going to try his damn best to continue to honor death as best he could.

Pix had taken an oath back in Pixandria to respect the dead and honor their memory as best he could for as long as his life lasted, and given that he ended up being immortal, he figured it'd be stupid to not at least try to carry that over on a server where death had been twisted into such an odd form.

Old habits die hard, especially for an immortal.

Pixl keeps to himself and tells nobody of his plans. If they ask what the huge geometric monuments ringing the edge of his circular perimeter are for, he'll gladly tell them. There's rules and then there's rules. fWhip can say whatever he wants, but Pix had it drummed into him from a very early age that if you give up the right to respect the dead, you give up the right to respect for yourself.

Besides, Owen and Eloise did him one hell of a favor bailing him out as soon as they did. The least he can do in return is promise to respect them in the best way he knows how when they kick it.

The sun's rising now, bright gold above the steaming jungle canopy. Pix glances at it for a bit, eyes shaded, before hopping back down into the now gaping hole in the landscape to continue digging. Ever since he was revived, he's tasted copper.

Pix takes that as a sign.