#oh and bdubs dhsbf

[salcreus]

What is creation but the rebirth of destruction?

Hermitcraft S8 AU where the world is an unrulable beast, and the sun betrayed the moon. Chapter 1: Existence

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And then light. And then shapes, and colours, and textures, and the rhythm of the melodies embracing you, holding you tight. And then grass that prickles you, rain kissing you hello, And then two beings that contemplated one another, as much as one can manage when you don’t have eyes, nor awareness, nor even a heart. Those hadn’t been invented yet, after all. One existed. The other existed back. If they had mouths, they would have smiled at each other.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- The city bloomed with chattering and laughter. If you paid enough thought into it, you could hear the business conversations of wandering travellers that stood near the popular fruit market of the town, full with all sorts of wooden stands and their respective owners, some with the most glamorous of covers and others more akin to glorified shoe boxes. The plaza’s floor that hosted said market was adorned with black and white stone tiles, organized to create the most intricate of patterns, there to be marveled by the odd one that would come to visit this town. Though, at the end of the day, it always became a mere background to the busy lives of the people that lived here. A fountain of a fair decent size served as the marker of the middle of said plaza, made up of sculpted nymphs without names nor story. Not that all things need a story, after all- Sometimes, existing is enough of a gift as it is. You could spot a couple sitting on top of one of the borders, spitting sweet nothings to each other as they threw a golden nugget into the crystalline waters.

There were of course other places to sit, a bit further away from the masses, paired with holm oaks that had yet to fully grow, but provided enough of a shade as it were. You can tell that whoever built this place didn’t fully think about how much space the roots would need, as any stone tiles that once were neatly in place, have now popped out into a contorted mess of waves and twists. At least the trees didn’t seem to mind all that much, as long as they got enough food. Surrounding the tiled space, were buildings of lively colours, most akin to the pombaline architecture, with the off hand neo gothic style building. How they were able to make the two work together was something that you’d ponder about later, though it is quite the lively sight to behold. Clothes hung from some of the parapets, going as far as to have rope that connected them one by one, so that they could have more space to dry them all out. At night, the windows framed with metal would glow faintly of warmth and sun, maybe even let escape a chuckle or two, but for now, the bright blue sky reigned high, and thus, the windows stayed open, a curtain peeking out from time to time.

Back into the plaza, a crowd of kids, which don’t seem to look older than 13, gather around a man like a pack of hungry dogs looking at prey, which would be a scary comparison in any other scenario- Fortunately for him, they are merciful creatures, as merciful as one can be when they are filled with undying curiosity. As for said man, nothing special popped out from his stature, except for a ruby embedded into the left upper pocket of his long brown overcoat, a stone that was only ever heard of from legends of the past. It was always warm to the touch, and it smelled faintly of burnt charcoal. Surrounding it was a small embroidery design made out of gold threads, carefully crafted but not too overbearing, letting the precious gem be the star of the show. The kids couldn’t care less about it, though, focusing on their incessant chattering of questions and inquiries. Chorus of wonder, the creativity of children is a curious, yet wonderful thing. “Alright, alright, alright, one at a time! I’m only one guy, after all. Take your turns, and I promise I’ll get to you.” He finally exclaims, with no drop of malice in his tone, though it still earned a few grumbles as an answer. Their chattering dropped to a few murmurs between each other, each child trying to figure out their own words, until a small, yet fierce little girl, with hair coloured gold waved her arm in the air, taking the pause in the conversation to ask the Master a very simple query. “What are Virtues?” And thus, the crowd began to echo it like parrots that had learned a new sentence.

“Well- How do I put this in simple terms-” Pausing, he scrunched his nose instinctively, searching his pockets for any sort of object that could aid him, soon landing on a small leather pouch that contained some redstone he kept in case of need. It wasn’t perfect, but it would do the job. “-So, you know when you want candy really badly, and you keep asking your mom for it? Or you go gather things to make some? You can be so focused on that idea, that your work pays off, and you gain a Virtue! The- uh. Virtue of making candy, we’ll go with that! I mean, you don’t necessarily need to gain a virtue to be really good at making candy, but it can be like… An unlockable option, or even a gift from the gods if you really work hard for it.” The mention of the word “gods” earns a few gasps from the fairly sized gathering of kids, and the man could already tell that they would bug their parents about this story of his later. He even almost felt bad, but then again, it was fairly hilarious to imagine what sort of shenanigans they would get up to. “So you now have this Virtue! But where is it exactly, you might ask- which I know you will- It’s stored inside each one of you.” And on cue, he perks up the pouch mentioned earlier, dangling it near the middle of his chest. “Stored, in a little container, that is kept safe and sound, only accessible to you and you alone. The most common name is Vessel, but I’ve heard other terms being thrown around, like Heart, or Capsule? The world hasn’t decided on that one quite yet, I guess.” “Jeez, that’s gross-” Another kid perked up from the crowd, this time one with hair of ash and dust, freckled cheeks hosting a daring smile that only children can manage to pull off. “Do you have one?”

“First off, mister, it isn’t that gross. I mean, it’s not like you have bits and bobs jangling on your insides. Think of it as a manifestation, transformation, uh… Water, turning into ice! Yeah, we’ll go with that!” With that remark out of the way, and an amused chuckle following it (he was very proud of that analogy! A shame that the kids’ unimpressed looks outed their disagreement with the quality of said analogy.) he puts the tiny bag back where it belongs, clasping his hands together right after, in a way a teacher would when speaking to a class. “Second off, I assume that you mean to ask if I hold a Virtue or not, since the container I talked about earlier is something that all beings have- It just happens to be empty most of the time, because it has no Virtues to hold. Again, again, doesn’t mean that you are uncool, or not- hip. Just that it’s not being used to store things. Ah, the answer to the Virtue thing is no, by the way.”

Silence. For mere seconds, silence of contemplation, assimilating every complicated word they were just taught in a short amount of time, holding onto that curiosity for dear life, because what else is dear but existence and creation, right? After that, murmurs, whispers, tiny words passed by and onto tiny people, tiny ideas, tiny questions. Big questions following soon after, big words, screaming hearts, ideas, doubts, love. Back into the dance of dog and prey. Laughter, not coming from the children, nor the man, but yes from the passersby of the plaza, marvelled at the show being performed. It’s not often that one single person was able to gather such a big crowd, after all! That honour was usually reserved for when the Deities paid a visit, which, although rare, was always a wonder to behold. “Impulse!” The shout from far ahead made the Master jerk his head towards it, soon spotting a splotch of brown and yellow waving at him, and, in return, he chuckled lightly, much to the displeasure of the children surrounding him. “I’m sorry kids, but it seems I have to go now. Whenever I pass by here again, I’ll get to all your questions, I won’t forget about it!” And, even though they played stubborn, they kindly let him through, going back into their incessant chattering of gods and Virtues, as if the man had never been there to begin with. Said man, Impulse, took the opportunity given to him, sparing one last nod and smile as he hurriedly stepped through the tiled floors of the plaza, towards the person calling him. As he got closer, he could spot some smoke, followed by the protests of a half beaten up wagon, its engines rumbling hungrily for action. Near it, was another man, dressed in the same sort of overcoat Impulse bore, though with a pair of mechanical looking glasses held on top of his head, the lenses pairing perfectly with the ruby he also carried. “So, you got everything you had to do here settled, Tango?” One redstoner chirped. “Almost, I just need to take care of some jimagathings, but they don’t have the stock for those ready just yet. Missing out on slime over from the swamp production in the eastern village, they said.” The other redstoner replied. “Well well well, what about you, big guy? Being the folk’s entertainment once again?” With that, he took the opportunity to elbow Impulse, as one does when you want to sweetly mock a dear friend about the silliest of endeavours. “Oh you know how kids are- They haven’t reached that age where schools go more in depth about how it all works, so fancy words like that must look like monsters to them. I’m just their brave dragon slayer, here to help with their adventures.” Now THAT earned a laugh from his audience, one that radiated of effervescent blaze powder, and one could only be glad that there were no carriages of TNT nor brews around these parts. “More like recruiting peeps for Etho to shove his contraptions onto! What a valiant hero you are! If you keep it up, all the children in this town are going to go around crazy about superpowers and gods.” After his remark, Tango took the chance to do one last check on the shulker boxes his old beloved machinery was carrying, making sure it was all loaded in the right sections, before getting into the wagon, proudly taking the driver’s seat. The leather cushions protested at the weight, but luckily it was drowned by the sounds of pipes hitting each other every so often. Soon after, a lightheartedly peeved Impulse followed right along, taking a few steps to reach the free seat near his friend. The interior of the wagon was predominantly a mess of paper and machinery, the spruce wood only being revealed by the occasional forgiving gap in between the clutter, but even so, it was almost a second home at this point. Each scratch and mark that had been left throughout the years contained a story embedded in it, and neither of them would have it any other way. The stories this machine could spill if it had a mouth... “Hey, teaching people redstone never hurt anybody! Too much, that is- Sides, who knows? Maybe someday they

will be so noble that they get invited over to Hermitcraft.”

Tango let out a scornful laugh at the remark, not giving himself the work of sparing a glance to his friend. Instead, he seemed more preoccupied with checking the settings and levels of the contraption, making sure it was all ready to get fired. Only when he was sure he had everything prepared is when he thought about replying to Impulse. “Tsk, what a silly name for a playground made to please Deities of all things, don’tcha think?” To that, he received a simple shrug from the “co-pilot”. “Not our business to decide what gets named what. Sides, it’s a peaceful place, that’s enough for me. Want to keep on chatting, or are you ready to go, princess?” “Please save the princess nicknames for Bdubs or I’m kicking you off the wagon.” “Then better get at it, dude! We have a long way to go until we get to the next stop.” “You’re insufferable.” A thought crossed Tango’s mind, briefly associating his words with someone more akin to Cleo or Hypno, the official manufacturers of sarcastical witty callbacks laid upon the Masters, when they were both wasted, crackling at 3 am, as they kept on trying to make the simplest of circuits come into life, or when they caused havoc upon someone’s land with their newest gadgets. But his sentence had a different taste, one of whiskey and companionship, playful bantering that they both knew the recipe of, or at least he hoped they both did. With that brief moment aside, he finally gave in, blaring the horns of the machinery, as the cogs began twisting into motion, fully waking up the beast of metal that they called a wagon. It released soft puffs of steam every so often, hardened wheels beginning to roll at their perfected pace, as Tango drove along the streets of Abella.