There's a bit of angst towards the end, but it's very fluffy at the start!
Idk if this'll help, but here you go.
Scar had changed his outfit. He was wearing a cloak, no shirt or tunic under, that very prominently featured his very definitive abs. He blushed, immediately looked away. His heart rate accelerated so fast that his entire body felt weak, and he almost thought he’d collapse to his knees right there. He didn't know Scar was that ripped. He hoped that no one had noticed or that he wasn't the only one. Honestly, he could only think of a few people who’d be somewhat unaffected by Scar’s herculean shape. Cleo, for one.
He looked back up and found Scar was staring, those cactus-green eyes boring right into him. They made his lungs tight. He mustered a smile back. Scar gave one of those half-open smiles in return, his eyebrows slanting just a little bit. Grian’s eyes flicked away again. Scar's smiles hadn’t made him feel that way before. Scar turned back to talk with the others, while Martyn dived into his advert speech. Having heard it before, Grian let his attention wander until he was done. He noticed a creeper standing outside of the village boundaries. His lips tugged upward in one of his devious smiles as a little, poorly thought out plan formed in his head. He still had to get Scar back for his latest prank, why not do it here and now? He'd just give him a scare, he'd turn, jump out of the way, or put his shield out, and he'd be fine. No one's that oblivious.
He flapped his wings and hopped over, then walked the rest of the way towards the green stalkling creature until it saw him. Then he traipsed back towards the group, angling himself so he'd look like he was just casually walking past Scar. He turned and passed Scar as Martyn was finishing his speech. He made eye contact with Tango, and his red eyes widened in recognition. He back away. He heard the sizzle and whipped around. The creeper was flashing. Scar was starting to turn, an expression of fear dawning on his face.
“Oh, that one's real!” Martyn shouted.
Scar flinched and the creeper exploded. Grian turned his light-sensitive eyes away from the explosion, his wings coming up to shield him from the rubble and when he looked back, Scar was gone. It took him a second to process what he'd just done. Everyone was shouting as Scar's belongings fell everywhere, and dirt crumbled into the crater. Grian was just standing there.
“I didn't think he would die.” He said.
“Dirty. Dirty!” Repeated Tango.
Grian picked up Scar's sword. He ran his hand down the scabbard. I didn't think he would die. Guilt consumed him. He'd just lost Scar his first life. It was his fault. He didn't think Scar was that oblivious. He looked at everybody else. They were all staring at him. His gaze landed on Martyn first, and he remembered Martyn's little prank. The creeper sounds. Of course he didn't think it was real. Martyn! That damned siren! He looked over everyone else. Some were amused, some horrified, and his guilt tripled. His hands tightened around his sword. Footsteps behind him. He turned and saw Scar, holding a lead attached to a white Llama, with a green and red saddle blanket laid across it. He met Scar's eyes, looked away again, biting back the slight heat of tears. He looked somber, almost disappointed, and somewhat betrayed. Everyone started picking up Scar's things and handing them to him. He looked at the sword he was still holding, and started walking towards Scar. Every eye on him watched with the intensity that comes with not knowing what'll happen next. Only one way to make this right. He stopped in front of Scar, met his eyes one final time. His wings fluttered.
“Scar,” he said, his voice still a little shaky, “I'm so sorry.”
He held out Scar's sword and got down to his knees, his wings spreading out behind him to keep his feathers from dragging on the ground.
“I feel awful. I owe you my first life; I am in your service until I lose my first life.”
There was an awful pause, in which Grian feared he might reject his offer, but then the weight of the sword was lifted from his hands. He looked up, his wings pulling back towards him. Scar was smiling again. That damned soft, half-open smile.
“So you'll dig and sell the sand with me?”
“I-if that's what you want.”
Scar took his hand, his feathers puffed, and his shoulders tensed. Some spots of his vex-marked skin were smooth and soft, and other parts were rough and coarse. He pulled him upward, still looming high above him.
“Then let's go to the desert.”
The desert. Bleak. Hot. With Scar. Not chilly and sweet-smelling like the little flower valley he had started building in. He'd have to do something about his jumper. It wasn't appealing, not at all, and knowing everyone else had let it happen probably meant Scar wouldn't be fond of them either. Knowing him, that'd probably mean lots of fire and lots-LOTS-of destruction. It was the right thing to do. He stole a glance at the others. They were no help, with their gazes filled with expectation. He had to, it was the right thing to do anyway, even if he regretted it.
Scar's smile widened a little, and he leaned his cane against the llama's side. Grian pinned his wings to his back, lifting the ends as Scar put an arm around his waist, holding the lead in his other, and lifted Grian onto the llama's back. The gesture made Grian doubt himself a little less. At least Scar was chivalrous. Scar started walking, tugging on the lead, and the llama, which he soon found was named Pizza, followed. He looked back at the small crowd, watching them go, and thought, there go my chances of basing with BigB.
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