Oracle

They were helping with terraforming for Survival of the Fittest. Bdubs had delegated them to knocking blocks out from clearly marked plots of land, apparently not trusting them with anything more interesting than that.

He was feeding them, though. That was a plus.

"Speaking of lunch -- let's take a break and eat, the ice in the lemonade is melting," Etho offered, beginning to climb out of the stone pit they'd been chipping away at for hours.

He should have known Scar wouldn't let it go that easily. For all he acted like an airhead, his focus was unrelenting when he sensed he could make someone squirm.

Etho had barely swallowed a bite of his sandwich before Scar started in again.

"So! What's the origin of bunny, huh? Can Bdubs wiggle his nose? I wanna see that. Oh, oh!" Scar almost choked on a sip of lemonade. "I know. I got it. You couldn't pick between 'baby' and 'honey', so you combined the two."

He nodded sagely at his own conclusion, picking the tomato slice out of his sandwich and flicking it into a pile of grass blocks. "Makes sense. Bunny is a lot better than Haby. That sounds like a disease."

Etho had leaned his head back in exasperation, but his shoulders shook with suppressed laughter.

"What's the real reason? C'mon, I won't tell. Is it secret?" Scar had picked up a cheeto and was wielding it like a baton. "Oh, unless it's like a-- a private thing. Bunnies are known for being, uh, being-- procre -- they procratiate--"

Okay. Years of Scar's antics had not, in fact, left Etho totally desensitized to his absurdity. He rubbed at his temples with a pained groan, giving Scar an unimpressed look. "No, Scar. It's not that kind of thing."

"Oh, good. You can tell me then!"

Etho sighed again, purposefully slowing down as he chewed his next bite. He swallowed, letting the tension build, looking into Scar's expectant eyes.

Then he shrugged.

"Just suits him. That's all."

Scar sputtered his way into a giggle. "Does it? He can be so...loud, though. I think he's more like a noisy cat."

"I think you're just cat-brained, Scar," Etho replied, peering inside the basket Bdubs had dropped off and pulling out a cookie. "See, what I think is -- you've raised rabbits, haven't ya? You know what they're like."

"Allergy-inducing and hard to keep alive."

Etho had to smack his chest as he inhaled a bit of cookie with his answering laugh. "Y-yes. One of those is true of Bdubs already."

He chased away the urge to cough with more lemonade. "They are hard to keep alive, but they can be really resilient, too. And people see them as just... scared prey animals. But they're tougher than they look."

"Uh huh," Scar said, unconvinced. "That's a low bar, though. Bdubs looks as tough as a marshmallow."

"Hey, his Rambo look is pretty tough. It's not just that, though," Etho argued, foot tapping the ground as he spoke. "They're like, the perfect mix of cozy and energetic. And they're demanding, but in a cute way. They know what they want and they're not afraid to demand it."

Scar smiled knowingly. "Alright, I can see it. Spoiled bunny Bdubs. That's cute. Gross, but cute."

The conversation tapered off as they focused on finishing their food. Etho balled up his trash and tossed it in the basket.

"Back to it?"

"You know," Scar murmured, eyes thoughtful. "Rabbits are good luck."

He checks the old watch he had gotten at a thrift store. Eight-fourty five. He’s got fifteen minutes to settle down, find a place to see Bdubs clearly. Not bad—

If there weren't so many damned people around!

Snappers— they packed this place like a tin of sardines! The sheer body heat of the attendees made him sweat way too much under his mask and his green bomber jacket. He awkwardly shuffles and pushes his way to the front of the crowd, hoping to catch the clearest view of the stage.

And the lights are blinding in multicolor. As glowsticks next to him illuminate the crowd like an ocean. Green, blue, red— It’s beautiful.

“NOW PRESENTING, LIFE ENTERTAINMENT’S NEWEST IDOL UNIT, CLOCKERS!”

And in an instant, the lights dim, before three figures spring out from the stage. A red head with long locks, a boy with pretty scars across his face and…

Bdubs.

He’s dressed in a frilly green jacket, his signature red bandana still on his head. Makeup all done, perfectly glossy lips and pretty blush on his tan skin. At some point, they start singing. At some point, they start dancing.

But all Etho sees is how Bdubs sings, how his lips move like a spell. He doesn’t hear the rhythm, or melody— it’s just his steps and moves, twirling and transitioning with his unitmates, pulling Etho into a trance.

And those large starry eyes, they catch him just at the right moment. Bdubs break out the large charming smile everyone has always adored. And the crowd is chanting and screaming his name.

Bdubs, Bdubs, Bdubs.

Like a hymn, a prayer. Reverend

And Etho only watches, hypnotized.

Bdubs winks, as if he was brushing off stardust from his lashes.