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skywillsometimeswrite · 4 years ago

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Pieces of Glass Ch. 2

Read it on AO3

Snap, Crackle, Pop

“Scar, no!” Grian felt his voice crack at his scream, watching as Scar leaned over the edge just a little too far. He watched in slow motion how Scar’s hand wrapped around the crystal he threw off the edge, and how Scar followed its deadly path of no return. He watched as Scar’s green eyes met his, wide with fear, as he fell farther and farther away.

“Grian! Help!”

Grian stood stock still, eyes unblinking as he watched Scar’s form get smaller and smaller, his voice already sounding dangerously distant. What had he done? Why had he thrown that crystal? Why had Scar tried to catch it?

He had to help Scar. He had to. But how? He didn’t have an elytra yet so he couldn’t exactly fly down and grab him. Could he build down? That was difficult to do normally, but doing it faster than the pull of the void was definitely impossible. He had to think. Scar would die if he didn’t do anything. He needed to help Scar. He had to. He had to. He had to.

His hands scratched at the front of his chestplate, a pain beginning to blossom in his chest as Scar’s words rattled in his brain. The End wasn’t known for any extreme temperatures, but Grian felt like he was in the Nether with how heat spread itself through his body. His breathing became ragged as everything started to become far too much. A bright white light began to invade the corners of his vision and he couldn’t help but shut his eyes against it.

Something in the back of his head snapped. Something he had long forgotten. Something he didn’t realize he still had.

He heard a cracking noise quietly behind his thoughts and a blinding yellow color forced his eyes open as his back arched against the force that dragged him off the edge of the bridge. He barely registered that he was falling until he caught sight of Scar again, a ball of shining diamond armor against the inky black of the void.

I have to help Scar.

That single thought overpowered his mind and he was reorienting himself in the air. Wings beat downward, sending Grian soaring towards Scar faster than the pull of the void itself. After only a few seconds of falling he felt his breath leave his lungs and he coughed, bringing his arm over his mouth as if he could somehow stop the air from leaving him. Black dots swirled around his vision and he blinked against it, trying to see the different nauseating black of the void instead. The sudden pressure difference made his ears pop painfully but he was so close, just a little farther.

His arms reached downward and made contact with the purple fabric of Scar’s wizard robe, allowing Grian to pull him towards him and hold the curled up wizard to his chest as securely as possible. His already struggling breath hitched and pain coursed through his back as the wings flapped forcefully, slowing his quick descent and preparing to launch him upwards towards the yellow islands that looked miles away with his swaying vision. He adjusted his grip on Scar’s form, making sure there was no risk of dropping him as he began the too slow rise up. Grian knew he was fairly strong, and he prided himself on being able to pick up most of the hermits (it was quite comical when he would hold up someone like Mumbo or Xisuma who was almost a foot taller than him), but between the void sapping his strength and the fatigue from flying he worried that he could drop Scar at any second. The thought made him sick.

After what felt like ten minutes, Grian was able to more or less throw Scar onto the closest End island, and he barely got himself over the stone before the wings gave out and he face-planted into the ground. His ears rang and his back throbbed through the wings that were laying limply on his back and dragging him down. He closed his eyes at the swirling and shifting end stone underneath him giving him a headache and he shakily managed to use his arms to push himself up. He coughed, forcing the fresh but too-thin air into his lungs and groaned at the way it left his throat scratchy.

He slowly opened his eyes, blinking to focus his blurry vision. He pushed himself up to sit on his knees and took in a deep breath, calming the rest of his nerves. He heard a noise to his left and his head snapped over, worried flooding him when he saw Scar staring at him with wide eyes.

“Scar! Oh my god, Scar are you okay?” Grian’s own eyes widened at the way his voice echoed in his head and bounced off the end stone and he slapped a hand over his mouth. He raised his shoulders to his ears, trying to block out the unnerving reverb of his own voice. He barely contained a whimper at Scar’s high-pitched “yeah” in response, confirming he noticed it too. Why was his voice doing that? Had his voice ever done that before? He took a deep breath, waiting a few long moments before he mumbled behind his hand. “Uh,” he let himself relax when he heard his voice back to normal.

“So,” was Scar’s helpful response. And then the floodgates opened. “What just happened?”

“I don’t know!” Was his genuine response, anxiety filling his body again as he threw his hands up in the air.

“You have wings?”

“I just saw you falling and-”

“Is this normal for you?”

“No! Well, I mean, I guess I panicked and-”

“Why were your eyes glowing?”

“My eyes were what?” Grian’s voice raised in pitch and he patted the sides of his head as if he could feel the light his eyes had supposedly been giving off.

“They were glowing. They aren’t anymore though.” Scar quickly reassured him, sitting cross-legged and facing him. They stared at each other, but Grian’s mind was occupied with what the hell was happening to him. “So, wings, huh?”

His back straightened at that reminder. His head spun around to look at the faintly glowing feathers that perked up over his shoulder, their golden color slowly giving way to reveal a much more tame yellow. They felt lighter on his back since he landed to the point where he completely forgot he had them, instinctively folding them against his back. He extended one barely, reaching a hand up to graze over the feathers and he flinched at how the small movement sent a sharp pain down his spine. He probably pulled a muscle, considering he got them barely ten minutes ago and had already overexerted himself. He let the wing settle back into its place and turned back towards Scar, studying his folded hands in his lap.

Why was this happening? What caused these wings to sprout out of his back? Did Scar do it somehow with his magic? Did Scar actually have magic? Could Scar even do that with magic he maybe had? Was it an effect of the End in this new world? Did they stumble upon something they shouldn’t have and Xisuma didn’t know when he decided they would move here? These all seemed like really loaded questions.

Grian glanced up, noticing Scar was still sitting across from him. Right. First things first, he isn’t going to be able to focus on anything until he knows Scar is safe. He pushes himself up from the end stone, dusting off his diamond leggings until he sees the faint glimmer of the enchantment on them, and takes the steps towards Scar. He manages a small smile as the other takes his hand, pulling him up to his feet and Grian makes sure he doesn’t fall over

“Do you think you can make it back home without falling off another bridge?” Grian asked quietly, a steadying hand still on Scar’s arm as he looked up at him with concern.

“Uh,” The other took a moment, taking a deep breath in through his nose. “Yeah, I think I’ll be fine.”

Relieved, Grian gave him a nod before turning away from him. “Good, then you head back.”

“What about you?”

Grian walked back out onto the bridge that Scar had built and looked down at it, pulling out some blocks from his inventory. “I’m gonna keep going and see if I can find anything.”

“What? Alone? Grian, there’s a reason we use the buddy system. Heck, you just proved why-”

He grit his teeth, cursing that his friends were so caring. “Scar, it’s fine. I’ll be fine. You go rest, okay?” Scar opened his mouth to protest but Grian didn’t let him. “I need some time to think, anyways. May as well try and get something out of it in the process.” He could tell he wasn’t convinced by the hard stare he gave him. Grian felt himself shrink under the gaze, chin trying to burrow into the turtleneck of his sweater and he looked away. He steeled his nerves, looking back at Scar with the most genuine look he could and practically whispered. “Please, Scar. I’ll be fine.”

Scar’s gaze didn’t falter but eventually he gave in, sighing as he rubbed his temples. “Alright, okay, I’ll go home. But you better come see me the second you get back, okay?”

Something familiar popped in the back of his mind and stung ever so slightly on his right hip. His back straightened and the wings tensed painfully against his back but he was too occupied to really care. He blinked. “Okay Scar, I will.” His voice came out on its own.

Grian was still staring, watching as Scar turned away from him and made his way slowly back to and over the bridge that they had made to get to the current island. He blinked a couple more times, shaking the fog that had curled its way around his head as he tried to figure out what had just happened.

His eye caught a glint of something aqua on the cobblestone he was standing precariously on, and his attention turned fully on to figuring out what it was. He kneeled down to look at it closer before he picked up, carefully noting how pointy it was. He dropped the piece onto his other hand that was close to his chest, eyes squinting to get a better look at it.

And then he noticed it.

He could very clearly see the red of his sweater covering his chest.

His mind worked way too slow to put two and two together, but his eyes widened and mouth gaped at something that felt obvious and slightly terrifying all together.

He was holding a piece of his chestplate. The chestplate that he had been wearing before Scar fell. The chestplate that he realized wouldn’t have allowed the wings to move freely. So, he supposed, the wings forced the chestplate out of their way. And the way to do that was by completely shattering it. The wings on his back completely shattered a full diamond chestplate with unbreaking magic imbued into it in a matter of seconds.

Grian closed his mouth, swallowing hard as he glanced back at the now terrifying feathered appendages that had made his back their home. How? Was the main question that kept resurfacing in his mind. How? And Why?

Why was this happening to him? Why was this happening now? And what had he done to cause it?

He placed the diamond shard into his inventory, gripping cobblestone slabs in his hands instead, and moved towards where Scar had been building out from. He felt his head swirl and his stomach drop as he looked over the edge and he had to close his eyes to keep himself from vomiting then and there. He couldn’t do this. Not like this. Not after what had just happened.

Maybe he should go back. Catch up with Scar and then come back at a later time when he wasn’t making decisions based off the adrenaline coursing through his veins.

Then the adrenaline gave him an idea. He rolled his shoulders a few times and gritted his teeth against the pain that pulled at his back. Grian took a deep breath and bit his lip as he forced the wings to spread open to their full length. He stumbled back a step at the shift in weight, but caught himself, and made sure his feet were stable on the ground before he tried lifting the wings up.

“Now or never,” he muttered, keeping his eyes shut as he beat the wings down. He yelped as he shot into the air, his eyes opening and panic flooding his body as he realized he was now falling back towards the cobblestone bridge from what had to be at least twenty feet in the air. He braced for impact, covering his face with his arms, but he felt the wings move on their own. He landed rather gently, albeit clumsy.

So clumsy, in fact, that he tripped over his own feet, and right off the edge of the bridge.

He screamed as he felt nothing solid beneath his feet and desperately reached up to grab the bridge, only managing to painfully scrape his fingertips on a pebble. Not again! Okay, okay, Grian, calm down. Calm down. Focus. He forced his eyes shut again, willing the wings out from their tense, equally scared position. Come on, come on!

Suddenly, he wasn’t falling anymore.

He opened one eye then braved both as he realized that the wings were keeping him suspended in the air with small, graceful movements. He breathed a laugh, looking back up at the once again distance bridge and islands. He looked forward, towards where he had planned on going in the first place and then took one glance at the wings again. He nodded to himself before thrusting the wings down with a powerful beat, propelling him towards the islands further out.

Grian smiled at the feeling of the air billowing against his face as he soared through the End. He didn’t feel steady on the wings -- it was nothing like an elytra -- but he felt that same thrill that he usually did when flying. He whooped, trying to do a twirl in the air and choked when he got tangled up in the wings, causing him to tumble downwards onto an island.

He laughed, pulling himself off the ground and looked up, spotting the magnificent End City that stood before him. He beamed when he spotted the ship, crouching down and jumping up with the flap of the wings this time. He was landing gracefully on top of the vessel in seconds, letting the wings fold against his back as he walked down the steps toward the treasure he was looking for.

His eyes immediately locked on to the elytra hanging on the wall, and he dug in his inventory for his sword as he also spotted the nuisance shulker. He dully noted that the shulker didn’t fire any bullets at Grian as he killed it, pocketing the shells from the creature for himself at a later date. He placed his sword on its spot on his hip and delicately grabbed the artificial wings from their perch.

Elytra always had this unique feel to them, the fabric thin but strong, but would still tear if overused. The grey material was silky smooth downwards, but felt like sandpaper upwards and left little trails of discoloration. He ran his fingers down the wings, smiling at the welcome nostalgia that came with it.

He was rudely reminded that he wouldn’t get the chance to relive those memories any time soon as he felt his back muscles tense up in a painful cramp. He was finally calm for the first time in hours, and his body was through with letting him get away with overworking it. He let out a silent scream as he curled in on himself, stretching the muscles attached to the wings even further and doubling the pain.

He cursed, trying to think through the constant, throbbing pain on what to do. He tried to force the muscles to relax but couldn’t quite get the wings to move in the right way and ended up with the left one awkwardly half-extended. While turning his head to look at it in disgust he caught sight of a glimmering pink in the staircase of the ship.

The potions! He always took those potions these ships held for granted, but right now he couldn’t be more grateful. He hobbled over, hissing as the extended wing grazed the wall he was using for support up the stairs. He grabbed the bottle and nearly dropped it trying to get the cork out, but managed to get the majority of the contents into his mouth rather than dribbling down his chin as if he was an overgrown toddler. He instantly felt the pain dull, his body finally relaxing while it’s nerves weren’t being attacked by two foreign appendages and he fell back on his butt. He sat there, taking in deep breaths as the wings hung limply and almost dragged him back down the stairs. He let the empty bottle roll away from his hand and he instead picked up the elytra that he had dropped, he closed his eyes and let the feel of the fabric comfort him.

This had to be the most terrifying and physically exhausting experience he’s had since Demise last season. Sure, cutting down jungle trees and boating everywhere was tiring and annoying, but he didn’t think anything would ever compare to the rollercoaster he’s been on in the last hour or so. He was going to sleep for at least a week when he got back to his nice, safe, comfortable hobbit hole.

Speaking of which, he should start heading home. He got what he was looking for, an elytra for Scar, so there wasn’t really any reason to stay any longer. Grian didn’t want to stay any longer. So, he used the block the brewing stand was on to stand up, put the elytra away in his inventory, and grabbed the second healing potion just in case, before moving slowly up the stairs to the top of the ship. He made his way to the bow of the ship, looking over the edge at the yellow ground and endless void that made his vision swirl and he quickly looked away. How the hell was he going to get down?

As he went over his options he carefully made his way over to and grabbed the dragon head from its perch. He could try and use the elytra to glide down but he didn’t know if he could strap it on correctly to make it effective, let alone control it. He could try flying again but one twitch of the wings made him quickly rule that out. The safest, but totally not, was to try and anger an enderman on the ground so it teleported up to him. Then he could kill it, grab the enderpearl, and get down. Simple enough.

He steeled himself, sword in hand, and looked out over the edge again to spot a dot of black against the yellow endstone. He stared at one intently and began to wonder if endermen had a certain range of aggravation. Maybe they didn’t mind being stared at, as long as you weren’t right nearby.

Grian’s theory was quickly proved wrong, though, as he heard that familiar “fwoop” sound behind him and the telltale screech of an angry enderman. He swung his sword around, slicing at the monster’s legs. It screamed at him louder in response and swiped its long arms at him. With a duck under them and one leap forward, he impaled the creature and swiped the enderpearl from the smoke that arose from its dissipating body.

He once again looked over the edge and threw the enderpearl safely in the middle of the island. He didn’t hear the pearl shatter on the ground but he knew it had as nausea overwhelmed him and he saw the endstone beneath his feet. When he made sure he wasn’t about to puke he blinked out over towards the direction he came from and realized he hadn’t made a bridge to get back.

He groaned, realizing he has three options to get back and he isn’t too keen on any of them. He could either build his way back which would surely take a few hours, enderpearl his way back and get super sick in the process, or he could fly back. He stretched the wings out behind him, wincing at the sting they gave him but satisfied that they weren’t unbearably tense anymore. All he had to do was fly back to the bridges. He could do that.

He took in a deep breath, flapping the wings a few times without taking off and hissing at how they moved on his back. I can do this. I can do this. It’s not that far. I’ll be fine. He swung his arms back and forth, psyching himself up, and before he could think any better he ran towards the ledge of the island. He shut his eyes, leaping off the edge with a yell and forcing the wings to move.

Grian didn’t open his eyes until he knew he was in the air, managing to narrowly avoid crashing into a chorus flower. His back still stung but it was more bearable now that he had a rhythm. He decided to focus all of his attention on scanning the ground for cobblestone bridges and not on the physical state his entire body was in, in case it just decided to completely give out while he was still in the air.

Luckily for him, he spotted the last cobblestone bridge sooner than he had thought and stumbled into a landing on the connected island, quickly chugging the second potion and sighing as the wings hung limply on his back once again. Now all he had to do was the easiest part: walk back to the portal.

Without a second thought, he began the hours-long trek back. His exhausted mind was quiet, too tired for any coherent string of thoughts when he wasn’t actively searching for anything to think about. He wouldn’t even try to deny the tears that came to his eyes when he stepped in water and he registered that he was on the main island at last. Finally.

He stops right before the bedrock of the portal, staring down into the inky blackness and feeling familiar dread sweep over him. A thought pulled at the back of his brain, one he couldn’t seem to shake despite the years that have passed and proved it wrong.

What if he didn’t end up in Hermitcraft when he went through?

He huffed a laugh at his thinking, hands supporting him as he leaned on the rough bedrock. He could almost see himself in the darkness of the portal, the amalgamations of the static stars tricking his eyes. He closed his eyes and climbed up so that he could step into the portal. He had nothing to worry about.

The wings weighed heavily on his back as he stepped into the portal, bracing himself against the unnerving numbing feeling that came with it. He was scared to open his eyes, but the shift in air pressure and warm temperature, along with how the wings squished into the mattress underneath him reassured him that he was indeed back home.

Grian didn’t want to get up, finally in a position to rest from the crazy adventure he had just had. He wanted nothing more than to lay there and fall asleep. But he couldn’t. He felt a nagging, pulling sensation on his body as he sat up in his bed, urging him to go out the door as if he had an errand to run that he couldn’t remember.

“You better come see me the second you get back, okay?”

Right. Scar wanted him to go see him. He pushed the stray hair that had fallen into his face out of his line of sight and trudged over and out the door. Slowly but surely, he stood in front of Larry, staring at the ladder up as if it had personally offended him and his tired body. Once he was up the last rung and entered the shell without a door, he couldn’t suppress a groan at the second ladder he would have to climb. Scar better be up there.

He was. Grian poked his head up through the floor, spotting the snoozing wizard underneath his purple covers with his armor and robe strewed about the room. He pulled himself up, debating whether or not he should wake Scar up. If he did, that might mean it would take longer for him to get to sleep and that just didn’t sound like it was worth it at the moment. If Scar got mad at him, he’d deal with it later.

He takes the elytra out of his inventory and places it on a nearby chest that he thinks Scar will see and rummages around his stuff to find something to write a quick note on. Satisfied, Grian doesn’t hesitate making his way back to his hobbit hole and doesn’t bother taking off his armor before face planting into the soft cover and allowing sleep to overtake him.

#sky writes #works: pieces of glass #pieces of glass #grian #goodtimeswithscar #winged grian #hermitcraft #wizard scar

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