To Separate Fact from Fiction

“Not to mention ‘the Beast’. Would love to talk to them, see what the origin of their powers are, just- Anything! Or that research that library talked about, I’d love to read that.”

Oz looks confused. “After what? After all this mess with the Beast?” He shrugs. “I mean, it wasn’t my family that just got murdered, so there’s not much ‘after’ I have to deal with. What do you mean?”

Oz hugs Kiki back. “Aw, thanks!”

Oz is covered in gunpowder, but looks very excited, waving around a metal object. “Great!” He stops, smile faltering. “W-Well, I mean, it’s not. But I- I mean, I did it, I made something really cool. And it probably won’t blow up in my face.” He chuckles. “Got a problem with a ‘magical’ being? This thing’ll put a hole in that theory. And in them.”

Head hung over his work, his voice is quiet but firm. “There’s nothing to fix. Everything is fine.”

The voice is ignored, drowned out by the sound of metal welding together and grinding machinery. But there’s a frown on his face.

Oz looks curious. “Satisfied? Sure. My old life wasn’t too great, hadn’t been since End...” His face contorts in anger and he shakes his head. His eyes grow softer. “Well, since my father died. And my dreams? Well, I found people who think like me, who hate the gods. So that’s one dream come true. And as for the science part...” A quick movement and Osgood pulls his goggles down over his eyes again. Sparks fly as he fiddles with the delicate machinery on his table. “Gotta get back to it!”

“Why not be ominous? Well, it’s kinda creepy.” Oz shrugs his shoulders. “Why not just be clear about what you want to say?”

“Kiki!” Oz waves frantically, redstone dust from his hands falling to the floor. “I’m good, I hope you’re good too!”

Oz moves his goggles up to his forehead, pushing his red curls back. He grins at you. “Sorry! Been busy working on some stuff. Personal projects and all. Messing with some reeeally technical redstone stuff.” The teen gestures to his workspace, which is covered with fine redstone powder and strips of metal.

“Hey. Don’t do that.”

Instinctively, Oz clutches at it, making sure it’s still there. Assured of its presence he sighs. “It... it was my Dad’s. Some kind of End thing, like a holy symbol but not quite. Some kind of obsidian infused crystal. Obviously I loath End and everything he did, but...” From the look in his eyes, he seems far away, lost in memory.

Oz fingers the purple crystal dangling around his neck, then tucks it into his shirt for safekeeping. Goggles down, he goes back to work.