Granted, he was the one who brought Theo here first. But that was for a singular goal– a goal that Aster thwarted.

…He's isn’t sure he really believes that he's not cursed. And Lee doing something like he did will only draw the Scribe's attention to him.

Catching the interest of a being like that could lead to a fate worse than death.

Nothing he can do about it but try and divert their attention– try to make things interesting enough that they don’t bother focusing on Lee.

Currentl, the full Council, Lee included, are seated at their table alongside Day and Theo.

They've been listening to them explain what they've been doing. His allies are pissed at him but adamant that the Council is good for both them and the server as a whole.

“Daz can be an asshole, yeah. Deeply fucked up in a lot of ways that I've been worried about for a long time, but…” Khons gestures around them.

“The fact that he could make something like this, fully hidden from everyone? That's a testament to what he can do when he puts his mind to it. The fact that someone like that, regardless of the reasons, decided to help the server…”

Instead of letting the implication linger, Raine is more blunt. “If Daz had malicious intent, we'd all be cooked. I've heard bits and pieces of what he did to his ex-mentor. He might be a petty dick with even worse self esteem than we realized, but Khons is right. I've gotten a better view of him than…maybe anyone else ever has. Aster’s weird visions aside, obviously.”

Daz glares at said person, who is still not meeting his gaze.

Coward.

Raine keeps going. “You literally could not pay a dozen people to shoulder even half the load that he does. Even if they agreed, they would somehow be worse at it than he is!”

Day interrupts, “I'm going to need clarification and examples of what exactly he does that goes beyond the Welcome Wagon.”

That's his cue, then.

He leans back in his chair and scoffs, “I keep track of basically the entire server. Not with mod tools, but with gossip. If the Egg broke through, I'd be the first to realize. If we were somehow secretly invaded, I'd be the first to realize. If tensions rise, if prank wars go too far, if people are feeling unhappy in a dangerous way– I'm the one who fixes it.”

His console pops up with a message. There’s not a ton of people he's routed messages through his com like this, which means he can't hold off on answering.

As he scans the text, he frowns. “What dogshit timing. I can’t put this off– usually I'd walk off to do this, but I doubt I'm allowed to. So everyone gets to shut the fuck up while I put a fire out.”

He doesn't bother waiting for a response. He pulls his com out and puts it on speaker for incoming audio, puts his earpiece in for his mic, and makes a call.

It's easier to don his mask if he does so completely, so his body and face shift to worried but kind. “I got your message, Ten. Is there anything I can do to help?”

Tentra, a recently-settled refugee and Dream, hiccups. “I– I don't deserve to be here. Not after everything I've–”

“Don’t be silly! You made mistakes, sure, but so have lots of others. There aren't a ton of people here who can truthfully claim to be totally innocent. And, y'know– Sanctuary is really big on rehabilitation! Just because you did bad things doesn't mean you can't learn to do better,” he reassures, tone warm and gentle.

He knows why Tentra thinks his sins are unforgivable. He was from a fantastical world, a dragon who had been roused from his slumber when knights tried to slay him.

Enraged, he had gone on a rampage and laid waste to the knights and a nearby town. After that, he was hunted and nearly slain before the T3 showed up.

Innocents had died, and now that the fear and anger have subsided…Tentra feels every bit the monster he was claimed to be.

“I'm– if I stay, people will just get hurt!” “Even if that were true, we can kinda respawn as many times as we need. You can't really kill anyone here for good,” Daz points out.

He does not mention the caveat of will to live. No point in making things complicated.

The guy protests, “But they're still going to be hurt!”

He sighs softly. “You remember Day and Theo, right?” “Y– yeah? They were nice…and a little scary.” “Well, their family sorta stabs each other for fun. Theo regularly threatens to murder his dad in his sleep, and Day's response is just to laugh and taunt him. My understanding is that Theo has sincerely tried…and just kinda failed.”

Tentra sounds concerned. “Are they okay? That's…weird.” “I mean– Day did adopt two people who are cosmically just himself. So, like, weird is relative when it comes to them? Also, he's…got some unorthodox parenting methods. But the Was-Taken household is super loving, even if they also, like, lunge across the table to stab Theo and/or Perce during family dinners.”

He giggles. “As weird as it sounds, it works for them! Theo's best friend, Aster– the Swords and Shields guy? He's like, super big into fighting. The two of them do sparring matches all the time! He's actually like, super cool to watch; we call him the Comet for a reason.”

Staring Theo dead in the eyes, he drops his voice like he's sharing a secret and says, “Just between you and me? Aster is waaay more impressive. He’s, like– gosh, he was a pretty normal guy! And then he just decided to get really really good at combat. Sure, Theo is cool and on the same level…but he kinda got cheat codes.”

Theo makes an offended face and Daz flips him off. Tentra says, surprised, “Isn’t Theo really strong? So this, uh, Aster guy– he's on that level?”

“Yeah! And we kiiiinda have a mutual friend in Raine. You remember him, right? The kinda quiet Dream I work with. I bet if I asked nicely enough, he could get Aster to agree to something like…a demonstration, maybe? To show that even if you're a dragon, you're not the strongest person here. If you somehow like– totally lost it, there are people who could subdue you.”

That offer is met with silence for a few beats, and then a quiet, “I'd…really like that.”

Daz beams. “Awesome! I can set it up soon. In the meantime, how goes progress on finding a therapist?”

“I don't…know who to pick.” “That's okay! We have a ton of options and it can be confusing to sort them. Stop by the Welcome Wagon at some point soon, and I'll sit down and at least get you a shortlist, yeah?”

There's a sniffle. “Okay. Thank you, Daz. I– I feel a lot better, talking to you.” “I'm really glad to hear that. There’s no reason to leave, not unless you really want to go.”

Tentra sounds like he’s smiling. “I dunno if I believe that. But I'll trust in you, at least.” “You’re sweet. Any world would be lucky to have you, Ten.”

He hears that smile get a little bigger. “I'm pretty sure that's what I should say to you. I…I feel really blessed that I met you.” There’s a beat, and then Ten murmurs, “I'll let you go now. Thank you again, Daz.”

“Anytime,” he replies. He lets Ten hang up before taking his earpiece out and rolling his shoulders.

Day seems fascinated. “Why did you diffuse that?” “Because he’s a person who is best served in Sanctuary. It’s my job to make sure people who leave do so for the right reasons. Dragons are a bitch to rehome, too– d’you know what kind of considerations we have to have for that shit? So, yeah, no; I’m going to avoid that pointless hassle as much as possible. My time and energy are better spent elsewhere.”

Sullenly, Theo mutters, “Aster is not more fuckin’ impressive–” “I said that specifically to piss you both off. Congratulations on giving me exactly what I wanted.”

His attention shifts to Aster, who flinches despite still not looking at him. “You had better fuckin’ come through on this.” “Of course I will; I’m not that big of an asshole.”

When his glare intensifies, Aster shrinks down in his seat a little.

“Aster did a good thing,” Lee protests, and Daz just scoffs. “He invaded my privacy in a way I’m powerless to stop.”

The subject of his ire mutters, “I’ve told you my reasons–” “And I’ve told you, those aren’t fuckin’ good enough! You are so fuckin’ lucky that I can’t ruin you.”

Finally, Aster lifts his head to meet his gaze. There’s an odd look in his eyes, and an almost grim look on his face. “I don’t like this either, you know. It– your life sucks.”

In between breaths, the traitor suddenly goes pale. A shaky, almost uneasy laugh escapes him as he stares at the table. “I did not need proof, fuck, fuck, fuck–”

“...What did you see this time,” he asks, curious despite himself. “The fucking– Pogtopia. The worst part.”

Ah.

Interesting that he’s so distraught by that. “You had your own, didn’t you?”

Aster stares at him and says, half-hysterical, “Not like that, no! I could– lay down, at the very least! And there was– shit, there was some kind of light!”

Huh. Kinda fucked up that his own brother was worse than Aster’s Dream, in that regard.

He shrugs. “It’s not that big of a deal.” “Not that big of a–?!”

Eyes slamming shut, Aster takes several deep breaths. “I…can’t believe I’d take my Dream over him. Fuckin’ Prime…”

“It’s always the ones you love that can hurt you the most,” Daz hums, turning his attention back to the group at large. “An enemy hurting you is expected. A loved one doing so…well. That’s a special kind of treachery.”

Theo’s eyes are steely. “No fuckin’ shit. Especially when it’s your own fuckin’ parent.”

He corrects, “Brother. Phil and Techno were negligent and absent, but Wilbur…” “Of course it’s Wilbur,” Day mutters under his breath, wings poofing a little with distress.

The immortal scrubs a hand down his face and heaves a deep sigh. “I don’t– I don’t know that I can fully stop you. I’m pretty sure you’re capable of evading…pretty much anything I try and do to you, at least in part.”

“You’re correct,” Daz says, wary at where this is going.

“But here’s the thing.” Leaning forward and bracing his forearms on the table as he stares him down, Day tells him, “You’re not magically immune from the rules of Sanctuary. I’ll refrain from restraining you– all of you– on a few conditions. Your therapist, who you will be genuine and honest with, is going to be Iatros.”

Aster murmurs, “Closest thing we have to an expert on admins.” “Mhm. And he knows how to keep secrets without letting it affect how he acts too much. You’re also going to share information about the Scribe and Observers–”

“The latter of whom are already watching,” Raine tells him. Day grimaces. “Uhg…I hate that. I didn’t know they just– watched, without asking questions.”

Shaking his head, Day continues. “And you need to come clean to Lucid. He deserves to know–” “He’s the biggest fuckin’ threat,” Daz snaps as he shoots to his feet. “Do you have any idea what it’s like to be under the thumb of an admin who’s snapped?!”

Day glares at him. “Your concern is noted. However, he has a dozen people closer to him who are more likely to notice something wrong before you. On top of that, it’s an extreme mental strain to not be able to drop your act outside of blackout rooms. For that reason alone, I’m putting my foot down about that.”

Daz seethes with rage. “Fuck you.” “Hate me all you want– but it’ll be better for you and everyone else in the long run. Shit– do you not want Lucid to be in your debt? Because you clearly know things that we don’t. Filtering it through Lee will be a bigger pain in the ass than just coming clean.”

Said person agrees, “And if he knows you’re as good as you are, you can stop being forced to cut back on Welcome Wagon hours. I know you hate doing that! And maybe you can, I dunno– fuck with his head by showing him a meeting with the endfolk–”

Clever kid, he already knows exactly how to reframe a situation to speak to Daz.

But his dad and brother seem surprised. Theo asks, “Endfolk? Are they fuckin’ special like piglins?”

He scoffs. “Yes and no. Endfolk are– capricious beings whose entire lives revolve around verbal sparring. Haunting dynamics are complicated, and endfolk customs are weird to wrap your head around. Fucking them up means that in a worse case scenario, dozens of hauntings target you and yours.”

Rolling his shoulders at the idea of Lee being subjected to that, he sighs, “Lee isn’t ready. Not until he can pass a test to my satisfaction. That’s the only point in which I’ll finally let him shadow a meeting with them.”

Day’s head tilts a little. “Explain why it’s so much more difficult than meeting with piglins.”

He moves to the side and gives an elaborate bow. Once he straightens, he gives his standard greeting. <”I of the day greet thee of the eternal night. I pray thy haunting has been blessed with prosperity and amusement.”>

Both Day and Theo jolt a little. “Fuckin’ shit, that's archaic.” “No wonder nobody caught on until now, if that’s their native tongue. Even those who speak Ender wouldn't use that dialect…even for words that exist in that one, a lot of them are shifted or different,” Day mutters, brow furrowed in thought.

Daz smiles enigmatically, but keeps his eyes on the neck down. <”With a tongue as old as the ancient cities they walk within, games using words both spoken and not, and little patience for those that fail to adhere to rules…truly, the why is no mystery. Attempting to do so would earn only the wrath of a folk who stand atop the food chain.”>

Both sigh deeply. “That’s some fuckin’ fae shit, right there,” Theo groans. “Sorry, baby bro, but– I might have to side with fuckin’ Daz on this one.”

He keeps his smile affixed. <”Thy admittance is commendable.”>

“Still pissed at you, don't fuckin’ push it,” the warrior growls.

He snorts and sits back down. “Noted.” He looks to Day and asks, “Are those your only conditions?”

The immortal sighs again. “...Just be honest with us. As commendable as your efforts are, I just– I don't like that you've hidden so much of yourself.”

When are you going to remind them about me?

A shudder goes down his spine at Innit’s seething tone.

“...You don't– aren't you worried? About me, about Innit–”

Day looks oddly sad. “You need therapy, Daz. Actual therapy not whatever the fuck you've been doing the last few years. Am I happy you apparently wanted to kill every Dream? Of course not. But I can’t punish you for thought crimes. If anything, you've punished yourself for that worse than I could ever hope to.”

The older man studies him like he's trying to understand him. “You sealed away a fundamental part of yourself to protect Lee. You did– all of this, on top of what we already knew about, to protect Lee. It's…insane, honestly? But also impossible to not recognize.”

That makes no sense to him. “Then why the fuck are you mad at me?”

“You did still lie to me, my kids, and the server at large for three years. And you were moments away from leaving a horrific scar on my eldest and youngest,” Day points out.

He answers, “My reasons have been made clear, and I left extensive documentation. You can’t be hurt if you're dead.”

Lee hisses, “You don't get to make sacrifices like that for me, asshole!”

It does make his heart twist a little to see how hurt the kid is. “I felt like I didn't have a choice.”

Quietly, Aster murmurs, “Because your failsafe realized just how mangled you actually are. And you knew I'd never follow through.”

“You broke into my head, my past, and drove me to a cliff,” Daz sneers. “You betrayed the trust I put in you.”

Aster finally meets his eyes. “You were making sure I'd be able to put an end to things if you went too far. Well…I did, didn't I?”

Fury sings in his blood as he withdraws, twists, and throws his butterfly knife. Aster easily dodges it as Daz screams at him, “You could have killed everyone, you stupid fuckin’ jackass! Your fuckin’ noble bullshit could've led to– not just fuckin’ death, but a fate worse than that! What if I was right and I was cursed?!”

“But you aren't,” Aster answers. “Even if you were, though…? I'd still try to save you.”

He doesn't understand, and it pisses Daz off.

Aster continues, “I'd have used that goddamned wish on you, if I needed to.”

It feels like the floor falls out from under him.

In no way, shape, or form is he deserving of something as impossible as a reality-altering wish.

Even if he might have been, once upon a time…he isn't any more.

Not after he failed so miserably in the worst possible ways.

But he’s good at hiding his true feelings, so he just scoffs, “Right, I’m sure.”

The traitor seems a little sad at that– like he wants Daz to believe he’d do that.

Maybe he would. Maybe it doesn’t actually matter, because he still did something horrible and violating.

Suddenly, Raine groans and slumps forward against the table. “I never thought I’d miss you two bickering, but here we are!”

“Yeahhhh…it was kinda nice not getting new and awful bombshells dropped every few minutes,” Khons agrees.

They’re all quiet for a long moment, and…Daz can’t help but agree.

And then Raine asks, oh-so-innocently, “Do I get whatever the fuck a real claim is to you now?”

He sputters, “I– what?!”

A little smirk is on his friend’s lips as he explains, “Given you literally thought doing that would kill me, I can’t really blame you for your– whatever you’ve been pretending they are? But, well, now we know you’re not cursed. So it’s safe, right? And as your best friend, if anyone deserves a claim from you…”

Daz stares at him, and then Lee says, “I already wanted to give you something. Are you reaaaaaally gonna reject it and break my heart, huh?”

The idea sends a current of icy fear through him. He knows better than anyone at this table the effects of rejecting an admin’s claim.

He…he can’t do that to Lee. Not when there’s not a good reason to do that.

Throat tight, he nods.

It’s still terrifying to accept love, let alone give it out. He’s spend so long convinced that doing so was a death sentence, after all– that fear can’t vanish overnight.

Aleph squints up at the ceiling. “Uhh…I mean, me and Khons are pretty affectionate, but…”

Aster frowns ever so faintly. “Other than them, not really. Not that I know of.”

There’s a nod from Raine. “Daz is touchy-feely when he’s acting, but in private…not so much. Freezes when he gets a hug, pretty much. Ignoring his boundaries is a one-way trip to a psych ward, so…yeah, I don’t really want to press him on that.”

“Fuck even knows what half his boundaries are, though,” Aster mutters, looking like he’s eating a lemon.

Raine grimaces, not quite willing to nod in agreement but not entirely unaware of how prickly Daz can be.

Instead of saying that, though, he confirms, “Yes, I hear the emojis, somehow, and I want to unhear them.”

Aleph squints at the air, visibly confused by the question. "...Are you askin' if we bathe?"

Khons tugs a lock of the dense, curly, metallic-looking golden wool that forms his hair so that he can inspect it. He makes a face and says, "...I can't 'just run a brush' through this. That's not how any wool works, and mine is– extra finicky. And 'Leph doesn't even have fur, he has bristles."

"Wool isn’t fur either,” Aleph notes. Khons sighs, “That’s not the point.”

Daz emerges from a hidden trapdoor just in time to see everyone’s reactions to that question.

Aster wordlessly lifts up a small charm on his com made from melted discs in the shape of a comet; Aleph and Khons withdrawing small stuffed golden sheep and black-and-gold pig keychains, respectively, and Raine looking even more puzzled.

His closest friend lifts up his lightning bolt-shaped pendant, from which some shimmering clear crystals dangle. “Yeah, this is our duo item. What about it?”

“Oh, they’re here too! Great, wonderful, spectacular,” Daz says, the hint of mania in his voice catching the others off guard. Raine leans forward in his seat. “You know this one?”

“Seems like they hate me, given they deliberately tried to trigger me about the reason we’re all gathered here today.” Daz slumps into his seat, looking every bit as exhausted as he feels.

Khons reaches over and pats his arm. “Yeahhhh, some of them are…” “Mhm,” Daz grunts, taking only a moment to gather himself.

Then he straightens up and declares, “We’re conducting official business. That means, according to the deal, you have to go.”

The screen abruptly shuts off then, the contents of the meeting kept a secret.

…It may have been the wrong move to immediately agree and say that San deserves someone competent and capable, not whatever you wanted to call what Lucid is.

Anyway.

Day is interrupted from the music on his com and the steady, rhythmic progress of his new worst creation by an image popping up between his face and the garish monstrosity.

It takes him only a few moments to realize what he’s seeing. He narrows his eyes, pauses his music, and says flatly, “That’s not funny.”

This statement causes a half dozen more images of sand to pop up.

The substance is up there with some of the literal worst ones he knows of. Lava? Hazardous, occasionally triggers violent flashbacks, but largely acceptable. Obsidian? Sometimes will catapult him into a catatonic state, but useful. Raw potatoes? Will make him scrub his hands until they bleed, which does the opposite of help his mental state. Eldritch goop? Treated with extreme caution because it made Theo’s eyes turn solid black for a good ten minutes when he curiously poked at it.

But sand?

Sand is the bane of his existence. Any kind feelings he had towards sand died first in the prison, then a second time when he realized he has the memories of Philza fucking Minecraft (the most boring man alive) slowly and laboriously draining not just fourteen ocean monuments, but a dozen chunks’ worth of nearly all the lava in the Prime-damned nether with sand.

And then, finally, fatally, a third time when he had to stop Orph from trying to eat sand in their first home. And then Dee kept encouraging it, largely by distracting Day via trying to do it too.

He still doesn’t know if they both just decided that this, THIS was the ideal way to test his patience, or if they genuinely enjoyed it. The memory of Orph’s long, melodramatic rants on the subject still make him shudder hard enough that his wings will poof up. And then, of course, Dee would join in, and egg him on.

It’s coarse, it’s an irritant, it gets everywhere, it’s heavily tied to some of the worst parts of his life. He has made it a point to make one of his kids deal with smelting the stuff for glass for over a decade, and pointedly rejected the idea of having glass in most of the ‘windows’ of his own home.

Sure, part of that was so he and his kids could more easily enter and exit in an emergency…but it was also partly to do with not wanting to deal with the amount of sand it would take to fill those openings.

“I will find you and break every single one of your bones, in alphabetical order,” Day hisses, feathers fluffing up with anger.

Another dozen popups appear, and he gets to his feet, throwing his project on the ground in frustration. “Why?! What brought this on?! Are you sadistic assholes just enjoying my suffering?! Is this funny to you?!”

He’s interrupted from screaming at the ceiling by a wary, “...Uh? You okay, there?”

He snaps his head towards the sound of the voice, and sees the rather confused-looking Aleph and Khons staring at him.

They both seem worried, too, which Day would be more concerned about if he wasn’t dealing with otherworldly entities needling him for apparent funsies.

“Question askers are being assholes,” he says, making a noise of frustration as more popups appear. “If you’re looking for Theo, he should be out in his studio with–” He cuts himself off, slamming his eyes shut and taking a long, pointed inhale.

He is calm. He is very, very calm, and not about to start figuring out which god he can drag down from the sky and slaughter like the worthless dog they are for this active transgression against his patience, sanity, and most importantly, peace.

Through gritted teeth, he tells them, “With Perce. They’re working on something. If they’re not there, check Dee’s workshop.” His second eldest–actually, all of his kids–have various ways of using the multiple versions of the internet they can access to their fullest extent.

That is to say, they troll people with them.

Each of them has a unique niche of chaos they inflict on unsuspecting people. Perce will edit together well over a dozen versions of a movie or show, use memes that don’t exist and don’t make sense, and otherwise use and abuse his nerdery to make people absolutely furious.

Theo argues with people about folklore, myths, and legends, often cited and sourced with information from other worlds. He can and will post full essays about historical context for a myth that doesn’t exist using sources that are from a dozen other realities.

Orph will release songs or versions of songs specifically to piss off a world’s version of Wilbur, if he’s a musician. There have been multiple occasions where he’s tricked other realities into believing that there’s a new album or single coming out.

Atlas is, somewhat hilariously, the most low-key troll. His post histories in rock, mineral, gem, and bead groups are storied and often entirely genuine…and then he’ll pull some absolute nonsense out of left field. His favorite is arguing with Theo about carved versions of various myths, often poking holes into his points…by using data and a different version of the myth.

Lee, bless his tiny, golden heart, likes to give other realities media they wouldn’t otherwise get. Games that were canceled, movies shut down, projects that otherwise failed to see the light of day; any and all of them are liable to be offered up to others. He does, however, refuse to explain where or who he gets it from. His favorite phrase is ‘I’ve been advised not to disclose that, for the safety of others.’

And then there’s Dee. Easily the most chaotic of them, his method is to do livestreams. Has amassed a following on well over a dozen worlds’ internet, always showcasing some sort of impossible, improbable thing that can’t possibly exist in those worlds. And yet, he makes a point to react to the chat, donations, and other ways that make it clear it’s not prerecorded footage.

He can, has, and will, talk at length about redstone, and the second someone asks about redstone, he gives an entirely too-sincere confused look. “...Redstone? That sounds like a band. Oh, wait, do you mean my wall? Yeah, that’s red sandstone, good eye!”

Questions about Minecraft are met with similar confusion, though more pronounced. “I don’t actually know what you’re talking about. Is that a new show? Is it any good?” And then he’ll put a shulker down sideways on a wall, open it, dig something out, and set it down.

It’s gotten to the point where if his brothers know he’s streaming, they’ll go in and bug him. Sometimes it’s Orph, there to deliver a melodramatic rant. Sometimes it’s Lee, sitting with him and trying to follow his ramblings to glean insight into the mystery that is technology or just be an extra pair of hands.

And, sometimes, it’s Day himself.

Is it maybe a little mean-spirited that he thinks it’s funny? Yeah, probably. But considering he had to deal with some sort of issue in that world for it to be connected to Sanctuary…he thinks he can be forgiven for thinking it’s hilarious when nobody can tell if he and Perce are the same person. There have only been a handful of times anyone guessed–usually very sarcastically–that he’s the dad.

Day answers them the same way; a direct message that says ‘you were right.’ And as soon as they replied, he’d tell them, ‘I’m the dad on Dee’s streams. And nobody will believe you.’ And then he blocked them.

No further attempts to contact him are answered from that world. In fact, half the time he isn’t even so much as a regular in Dee’s chats.

But right now, Dee’s chaos–and Day’s habit of making it even more chaotic–aren’t the focus. Day is too busy trying to deal with the wall of floating images of sand literally encircling him. Moving doesn’t help, because they follow. Turning his head doesn’t help, because they’re forming a half-transparent wall around him. Cursing the gods isn’t helping, because they seem to be actively enjoying his misery.

“...Did they ask something rude, or…” Khons’ wary question is answered by Day telling the literally golden-wooled sheep hybrid, “They’re showing me sand.” He can feel the further confusion that causes, so he adds, “I hate sand. Sand is a fucking awful substance. I feel to sand as Vio does to snow. That being that it should stop existing.”

He’s sure he sounds absolutely insane, but frankly, until someone has well over a literal week’s worth of memories just of tedious, mind-numbing sand placement, then they don’t get to judge him.

“...Do you want us to get someone? Maybe call Vio, so you can commiserate about how much you hate a part of nature? And possibly work out some aggression?” Aleph’s offer makes Day’s eyes narrow slightly in thought. But, in the end, it’s not a terrible idea.

“I’ll call him. Thank you, though. Is there something else I can help–mother FUCKER that’s just a dick move, it’s not my fault someone gave a fictional character the same issues as me, but it’s NOT the same and it’s NOT fictional–” What starts as an attempt to get his anger control abruptly goes sideways as a clip of the infamous Sand Rant starts playing.

Instead his expression is blank to a rather creepy degree and he has a hand of cards. Seated around a table with him are the rest of the Council, who all have poker faces of their own. That’s fitting, because they seem to be playing said game—and by the looks of things, Daz has been winning. Not by much—the rest of them have decently sized piles, too. The smallest of them belongs to Aleph.

There’s only a slight raise of Raine’s eyebrows when he feels the strange sensation of the Observers starting to watch them. “I guess we all get to hear all of the questions directed at any Council member,” he says, earning a soft hum of agreement from Khons. It sounds a little odd because he has his mask on, which feels just a tiny bit like cheating. Then again, he was squarely in the middle as far as winnings went.

“Music,” Daz starts, expression still eerily blank, “Is...a bit weird, for me. If you know about me then you already know I don’t really care about Cat or Mellohi. Those are...relics. Relics of a life I’ve discarded twice over. No, now the music I like is more...mmm. It’s less specific songs and more a specific artist. Orpheus does wonderful work and has become a good friend because of my interest in his music. Not quite as much so as these chucklefucks--” he gestures at the rest of the Council, earning a soft scoff from Raine and a middle finger from Aster, “but moreso than most others. I don’t like them all equally and I don’t like all of them...but overall, I enjoy most of his original pieces and his covers. There’s a flair to them that clicks with me, especially now that I know a decent amount about what his influences are.”

“Make your move. Some of us have places to be.” Khons’ request is quiet, but still heard plenty well enough. Daz grins slightly at it. He gathers his cards and tosses them in the middle. “Fine, fine. I’m folding. Happy?” “Very. Feel free to continue waxing poetic about music,” Khons replies, sounding slightly amused.

“I planned on it. So, while Orph is unquestionably my favorite artist...I’m in the very unique position of having access to a massive library drawing from several realities. I have a bit of an eclectic taste and what I feel a draw to listen to depends on my mood,” Daz continues.

Raine rolls his eyes a little. “I know when he’s brooding because he puts on what I can best describe as opera but metal. It’s his brooding music. I fold too, by the way.” He pushes his own cards forward and then leans back a little. He gets shot a glare by Daz, who sounds indignant. “Go to hell, Raine, I do not brood.” “You definitely do, actually--” Aleph’s answer is cut off by Daz barreling on like he said nothing, “I plot. If someone pissed me off, they will regret that.”

It seems like Raine is enjoying this, if nothing else, because he continues, “I know when something good happened because he puts on pop music--” “Why are you telling them this?!” “--Spite and having fun seeing you show emotions. His sulking music is that sort of rock-alt emo stuff. Then you have the really bouncy stuff with a solid beat—that’s what he puts on when he goes and actually trains. He insists it helps him focus. I’m pretty sure it’s more that he enjoys seeing us be baffled as to what new song he put on the playlist.”

“I raise. Gotta admit,” Aster says, ignoring the righteous fury Daz is directing at Raine, “it does throw you off your game when it switches from an angry breakup song to something about going out to party and getting laid. It’s the worst kind of gamble because there’s no way to win. There are only degrees of losing. Much like anything with Daz--” “Why are you all being assholes?! I’ve done nothing to deserve this treatment--” The protest is met by four loud laughs.

“If you’re going to lie to the Observers,” Khons gasps between wheezes, “at least do it believably!” “You’re all horrible co-workers and I regret gathering you all together,” Daz scoffs, though he doesn’t really seem all that pissed off. More annoyed than anything else.

“Raise. You’re popular today,” Aleph says, that usual Techno monotone holding just a bit of amusement. Daz makes a face, though seems a little displeased by the question. “Dual daggers. We all have armor and weapons from Dee, though we’re not unique in that. There are a decent amount of people who are close with his family who he’s made stuff for. Armor is rarer than weapons because...what was the reason again, Raine?”

“His perfectionist tendencies. If he’s going to do it he’s going to do it right. There’s a lot that goes into making armor perfect for a person—at least, armor that’s been smithed rather than crafted. Weapons are easier, though he doesn’t do those that much more,” Raine answers. Daz leans back in his seat, watching the rest of the table like a hawk. “My style is fast. My favorite game...mm. Again, that depends on my mood. I have a lot of them that I like.” His attention flicks over to Khons, who pushes his cards inwards. “Fold. I’m the one he usually plays those games against. It’s fun, even if he’s insufferable when he wins.”

“You’re just as much so,” Daz says with a shrug. “Call. Also, nah. It’s just satisfying to see you get beat at your own game,” Aleph retorts. Aster sighs as he flips his cards over. “You probably win this one,” he mutters, looking unsurprised when he does, indeed, lose the hand.

Aleph smiles as he pulls the pot to his pile. He’s ahead of Daz now, though that doesn’t seem to bother him much. He rolls his eyes a little as he tells Aleph, “You would excuse anything Khons did. He could kick a three legged puppy and you’d say that the puppy probably deserved it.”

“Well,” the Techno says, eyebrows raising a tiny bit, “considering he’d never normally do that...he would have an explanation.” Khons laughs softly, bumping his shoulder. With a scoff Daz retorts, “That’s my point. He can do no wrong in your eyes—” Aleph cuts him off, eyebrows raising a bit more. “And for good reason. He knows me and I know him. Even if he didn’t have one, I’d still stand by him.”

Khons, despite his mask, is visibly pleased. He leans some of his weight against his friend and says, “Same here. He’s my person. I trust him more than anyone else, including myself.”

The rest of the table bursts into laughter that only grows louder at Daz’s clear confusion. “What the actual fuck are you talking about.” It’s not really a question, more just a statement of bafflement and quite possibly wondering if the asker is sane or not.

“But Daz,” Aster gasps between laughs, “do you have one?” Daz makes a noise of frustration as he says, “I don’t know! What the fuck is an ant brush?!” “Clearly something important,” Raine wheezes out, slumped over on the table from how hard he’s laughing. He manages to compose himself long enough to say, “Oh, that’s—thank you, whichever one of you asked that! He’s going to spend days staring at everything that might possibly be called a brush and wondering if that’s an ant brush. This is the best gift you could have given me.”

Daz glares at him, arms folding over his chest unhappily. “I’m feeling targeted. The rest of you answer the next ones too, or else--”

The threat is cut off by the question, and Daz grins. “I demand everyone else answer first.” “’Leph for both,” Khons says instantly, getting a nod from Aleph. “Moony for me, also both.” “We all get along pretty well—the occasional petty bickering aside,” Aster starts, “But...Raine for talking to, but working with really depends on the task. Everyone has their own strengths and weaknesses.” “I’m close with Aster and Daz, though Khons and Aleph are good friends too. We all have things we do together outside of Council-related work. Partly so that Daz doesn’t lose his mind from the stress of keeping up his batshit web of lies and manipulation.”

“It's not as bad as you’d think,” Daz says, tilting his chair back a little, “it’s fun to keep it up. People are puzzles and talking to them is a game.” This is met by amusement from the rest of them. Aster grins a little and says, “That’s our borderline sociopathic jackass for you. Alright, we answered, your turn.”

Daz makes a soft noise of thought, visibly thinking. “...I get along, for a given value of such, with all of them. Aster the least so, because he’s a prick sometimes--” he pointedly ignores the middle finger he’s given by said alternate version of himself, “--then probably Aleph, then Khons, then Raine. Despite his prick tendencies, Aster is right—working with really depends on the task. For instance, I wouldn’t want Raine to be at my side if I’m trying to beat a problem best solved by brute force. If I need something done without drawing too much attention, Aster is a shit choice—too much focus is on him wherever he goes because of the perception and vague role he has as the public head of the Swords and Shields.”

The rest of them seem entirely unsurprised by the response. Daz gives a slightly sharp grin and adds, “I could rattle off cases where each of them is the best to work with, but why would I go and do that?”

All the good humor among the group vanishes in an instant, especially from the two who were asked the question. Daz turns icy, while Aster has a familiar spark of Tommy anger in his eyes. Even Raine looks pissed.

The ones who look least distressed are Khons and Aleph. It’s not that they’re without anger, it’s more that they have a carefully detached way of showing it. Aleph slowly says, “...We weren’t paying attention to their identities. They didn’t and don’t matter.” Khons says nothing, but there’s a tiny shiver that makes Aleph press against his side protectively.

There’s an edge of dark anger to the frigid tone Daz has. “Leave. You’ll get no more answers, not while you’ve made them feel unsafe.”

Whatever subject was touched on is clearly still raw, and the defensiveness from the rest of them underscores the point that was made—that they’re close, despite any disagreements or bickering. It also underscores that Daz is more than willing to find and use loopholes left in the deal he made.

That could go both ways, though. It’s not out of the question that there are loopholes that favor Observers that could be used in the same way.

Theo, Perce, and Lee are once again in the arena, though they’re joined by three of the Council members–Aster, Aleph, and Khons.

Lee sits attentively in the stands with Khons and Perce, attention zeroed in on the other three. They're having some sort of three-way spar and it's...fast. Very, very fast; so fast it's easy to miss the identical, feral grins that Theo and Aster have. Aleph doesn't seem as blatantly enthused, nor quite as speedy, but seems to be enjoying himself and holding his own just fine.

Especially when Theo falters for a fraction of a second and gets a sword through his chest for it.

Almost immediately he starts shouting, darting back into the arena from the respawn room. "That didn't fuckin' count! Interference!" The other two disengage, glance at each other, and then over to Theo. "...Are you sure you aren't just being a sore loser? There wasn't anything that I saw," The piglin hybrid's mostly monotone voice carries a bit of amusement, even if he knows damn well what's going on. All of the Council members do, actually.

Observers are present and almost certainly have asked something.

Theo scowls at him. "Fuckin' question popped up! S' still weird as shit!"

Aster, still catching his breath, squints at him. "...How is it any different from the Fates? Isn't it just one more voice?" The warrior rolls his eyes, flopping down near his brothers in the stands. "No, n’ it's hard to explain why it's not the same," he grumbles, “It just is.” Aleph and Aster both take seats nearby, since there wasn't much point in continuing without him. They had plenty of time to spar just the two of them.

Perce speaks up from his place next to Khons. "As funny as it would be if Theo was just making excuses for fucking up," he says, ignoring the indignant squawk from said brother, "I got it, too. I'm sort of surprised, though–and a little confused about how much they all know. Theo and Dad are the ones in the family who travel a lot--the rest of us only occasionally go elsewhere. For me, it's less of a 'kind' and more a specific one. I like visiting my original world. It's nice meeting up with my friends and seeing how things have been. I don’t regret moving here, but...I still miss them sometimes."

Lee grins, elbowing him. "I was too adorable to not move here for, right?" Perce laughs, reaching over to ruffle his younger brother's hair. "Of course. You'll only be tiny for so long. Plus I thought it would be good to give the rest of them more space. I'm not even the admin any more--and before I get asked, I was...different, from how Dad and Dream Prime. I just kept things running smoothly, no world-talking or link to it like they have. Had, in Dad’s case. From what everyone back on my original world has told me, Tommy, Tubbo, and Ranboo are doing a great job. I figured they would–wouldn’t have given them control otherwise– but…it’s still nice to be proven right."

There's a grin from the eldest brother at that. He extends a fist towards Aster as he says, "Tommys are just fuckin' pog like that." The Sword bumps his fist back, smiling a little. "We're pretty capable, given the right motivation."

"Best world is Opinionated Ranboo's. Cookie Dream n’ the rest of the cookie team are awesome! Even Ranboo is funny, if a little...likely to give me a headache. The cookies are worth it though! Nothing beats getting one right out of the oven," Lee declares, earning a few smiles. "Capitalist Tommy is another very pog one of us,” Theo comments, “Pretty fuckin’ sure we’d end up signing our souls over if he, Tommy Prime, n’ Caper ever went into business together. We’re just real fuckin’ lucky that Capitalist Tommy is more focused on his own world.”

Khons adds mildly, “And that Caper is more focused on the Prank Guild. Most Tommys are…pretty scary, when they want to be.” Really, though, Khons had his own opinion of who the most terrifying Tommy was. It took a special kind of person to quietly create an entire organization with a secret council at the helm, hide all evidence of said council’s existence from someone who could be shown anything that happened in the world and seamlessly lie to countless people for three years. It took an even more special person to do that for the defense of an admittedly already very safe child, and to then thrive on the deception.

There were a lot of things about Daz that were baffling. Most of them tied back to whatever the hell his original world had been like. A lot of the details of that were withheld even from the other Council members. Though, to be fair, the rest of them weren't exactly open books about their own first worlds either.

“And you, Theo? Favorite kind of world?” It only takes a few moments after Perce looks to his eldest brother before the answer comes. “Probably peaceful-weird ones. Y’know, where shit’s fuckin’ strange but there’s not any real danger. Or, if there is, s’ more like we need to bring people back ‘cause the world is fucked, but not in an insta-death way. More like, uh…there was one with fuckin’--Dream on a little island, n’ the world had flooded, right? But he refused to go unless his friend–fuckin’ merman Quackity, which was wild for a few fuckin’ reasons–could go with him. S’ you might be able to guess, was sorta hard to bring a person who doesn’t have legs n’ can’t breathe air through a portal with us!”

Perce’s eyes narrow slightly. “...Wasn’t that the one where Vio reverse engineered a water breathing potion out of spite? Even though he has basically a magic allergy?” Theo laughs cheerfully, “Yeah! Fucker scared the shit out of the two we were fuckin’ there to help, ‘cause he flat out didn’t sleep for about four days. Dream asked at one point what was up with him, and Dad fuckin’ said that Vio has a personal grudge against water. Fucker then shouted back that water had a personal grudge against him, n’ I think I laughed so hard I blacked out for a few seconds.”

“Sounds about right,” Aleph says, smiling faintly. “He was…interesting. In the world Moons and I came from, he decided to leave a message for the group we were running from that time.” Khons has stilled, an uneasy expression on his face. Aleph carefully leans against him ever so slightly, a gentle reminder of his presence. Theo watches them for a moment, then says helpfully, “So, yeah–that kind of place. Or just…ones without all the real fucked up shit. I’m real fuckin’ sick of finding another fuckin’ Protege Tommy world. No offense, Aster, but–”

A shrug meets the apology. Aster says mildly, “None taken. It’s depressing to see how common they are, anyway. Granted, a lot of them do end up in the Swords and Shields because…well. Lee is a sweet kid and one of the least threatening Dreams we have.” He looks at the kid in question, whose smile falters a bit. “...Would be nice if nobody was hurt at all, but…if they end up here, bad stuff happened to them or their world. I didn’t really…deal with any of that. Or, at least–I don’t remember it. I’ve gotten a lot of kindness from everyone here. It’s sort of…the least I can do, to try to make the really messed up people feel a little safer.”

One hand goes to touch the brooch worn over his heart. “...I just want everyone to be safe and happy. They deserve that much.” The quiet words linger for only a moment, and then he feels a hand settle gently on his head. When he looks up, Aster is smiling softly at him. “You’ve got a big heart. It’s what made all of us decide to stick by your side–we don’t want you to stop being that kind.”

The sheer weight of that draws a tiny frown from Lee. “I know, I know. It’s…” he trails off, struggling to put the feeling into words. After a few moments Khons gently offers, “It feels like you’re being given too much, right? Like you haven’t done enough to earn that sort of loyalty?” Lee nods a little. “Mhm. That’s how we all felt, you know. What had we done, to make us worthy of being taken back here? What had we done, to merit the kindness and empathy we’d been given? What made it okay for us to finally be safe?”

The rhetorical questions make Lee look a little offended. Feathers puffing in outrage, he protests, “Nobody has to earn–” “We know that, now. But at first…it’s hard to believe that. It’s easier to accept flower crowns and scrawled drawings and disarmingly sweet compliments from a little kid than it is to believe that the world really is safe. ‘Leph and I would probably never have gotten as involved in things if you hadn’t opened that door. It might not have been your intention to start anything bigger…but you did. We’re glad for it.”

Aleph inclines his head a little. “All of the Swords and Shields are behind you because of that. You didn’t say anything about Khons’ wool or my fur–you just said that his eyes are kind and that I looked like a good friend. It’s still not what we’re used to; a lot of new people will make comments about what we look like.”

Silence falls over them for a few moments, Lee clearly considering all of it. “...Okay,” he says with quiet reluctance. “Baby brother, just accept that you’re pog. S’ just a fact. Can’t turn the sky green or the fuckin’ grass blue, can’t change that you’re the best tiny brother I’ve ever had. None of the others fuckin’ compare,” Theo declares. Perce rolls his eyes, and elbows his elder brother. “Don’t rank us; I’ll tell Dad.” “Don’t be a sore loser, Perce. I can still kick your ass,” Theo retorts.

Perce grins at him, a toothiness to it that spoke of mischief and the innate competitive drive he had. “That really depends on what we’re going against each other in, but sure. Tell yourself you’re the best–if you say it enough times it might become true.” There’s a scoff from the elder brother, who ruffles his wings a little. “I can come out on top in anything–” “Manhunts, trivia nights, ability to keep my fucking mouth shut for more than five seconds–” “Fuck you! I could beat you if I wanted to–”

It quickly devolves into petty bickering, though there’s still that ever-present affectionate edge to it. Then Lee jumps into the verbal fray, which drags the two Swords and the Shield with him, and…it’s unlikely that the sparring will resume any time soon.

=================

Over in the flower fields next to Summer Hills, the second eldest of the family barely has to stop and think about the question. “Best worlds to visit are any of the peaceful ones with big societies and a lot of advanced tech. New things to take apart, new media, new internet to dive into. There’s always something unique in those worlds and I fucking love them.”

The two with him–Raine and Tubbo Prime–both stare at him. The other Tubbo looks confused. “Uh…Dee, who are you…oh.” He stops, realization dawning. “Did you get another question?” “Mm. Wanted to know the family’s favorite kind of world to visit,” Dee says, idly watching as bees float by them.

“...The whole…question thing unsettles me,” Raine admits quietly. “Yeah, shit’s weird. It’s just one more to add to the pile, though, and we can’t do much about it. Better to answer than be stubborn and piss whatever or whoever is asking off, right? Unless they’re assholes. In which case, I’ll meet that assholery in spades.”

Tubbo Prime grins a little. “Oh, definitely. Vee was pretty annoyed about the first few–last time I saw him go all eye twitchy like that was when he heard the names of Boo’s picks. Which was fair, because he’s been stabbed for those.” Raine’s expression turns deadpan. “His axe is bad, too. Not as bad as some of the other names I’ve heard, but…” “It’s okay,” Dee says earnestly, though with a mischievous grin. Putting a hand on his shoulder he continues, “This is a safe place. You can tell us how terrible Dream Prime’s equipment names are. We understand. We feel your pain.”

The three of them all crack up, Raine being the first to break. He wheezes out, “I still can’t believe he went from naming everything Nightmare to–whatever the fuck his current ones are–” Dee scowls, gesturing with his hands as he talks. “Dad knows what they mean. He refuses to explain beyond saying that they’re melodramatic and dumb as hell. I keep trying to get him to fucking crack, but…he’s him. So, you know, he’s a stubborn asshole who refuses to let me have any fun–”

Tubbo Prime shakes his head sympathetically. “Truly, he’s the head of the Fun Police.” “Yeah, but he’s pretty alright. And…a little scary,” Raine says as he lays back against the grass. “Oh yeah, no, you didn’t see him fight a fucking god with Theo, Techno, and Vee. He’s weird, but good weird. Like everyone else from that world!”

Dee makes a face. “No, there were assholes. There were a lot of assholes, actually. Hell, Vio used to be one of them. Still is, a little bit! I could start listing them off, but that’s fucking depressing. I’d rather watch the bees.” “Bees are superior to most things,” Tubbo Prime agrees, watching two of them drift by.

=================

Day sighs softly at the sound of a question. He’s in his living room with both Atlas and Orpheus, all three involved in their own projects. Day is in a chair and knitting a sweater in dark green, white, and light blue yarn. Atlas is positioned sideways on the couch with some sort of odd-looking board that he’s deftly knotting thin wire and beads onto in a complex pattern. Orpheus is…well. He’s got a ton of papers with notes and music on them spread out across the floor, his com propped up off to one side, a guitar halfway in his lap, and is chewing on a pencil.

“You two get that one, too?” “Yup,” Atlas says, not looking up from his project. Orph makes a noise of distracted agreement, eyes narrowed as he stares down at one of the pieces of paper like it personally offended him.

“Any of them I can go see musicals in,” Orph mutters after a moment. Atlas nods in agreement. “Yeah, those ones usually have good stuff for jewelry. It’s a pain to put away our wings, but worth it to just…go have a day of fun.”

“I keep getting mistaken for their brother. It’s funny,” Day cheerfully adds. Orpheus makes a face, finally looking up at him. “You get smug about it. It’s not their fault immortality isn’t a thing for most people–” “He gets so smug,” Atlas groans, glaring at their dad.

Day is entirely unrepentant. “Yes, well…it’s still very funny.” Orph points his pencil at him. “Hypocrite!” “Mmm, special Dad privileges. I’ve earned being a chaotic asshole from time to time,” Day says with a little shrug.

Orph starts intoning, “Every day spent here is a nightmare–” “No, that’s an axe. And a set of armor. And a sword–” Day’s interruption makes his son make an infuriated noise and hiss, “You know what I meant!”

That only makes Day raise his eyebrows slightly. “Of course I did. I also know that you’re a terrible gremlin child and deserve every single terrible dad joke I make. All of you do. I’m getting belated revenge for the raccoons, Orpheus.” Day shifts his attention to Atlas, who laughs nervously. “So, uh–your favorite kind of world, Dad?”

Day shrugs. “Anywhere that’s peaceful. It’s nice to not have to immediately deal with some horrible, nightmarish crisis involving pain, suffering, and death. The solution in those cases is usually more death. Or making everyone talk. Either way, I don’t like those. Ones that are just…silly, or lighthearted, or just generally aren’t deeply depressing. Or…hurt my head. We’ve had a few of those.”

“...Wilbur being married to XD was weird to hear about,” Atlas says, and all three of them make similar faces. Orpheus’s voice is slightly higher pitched as he rants, “How do you think it felt for me?! I had to hear about an alternate self that was married to a god who my Dad created here!”

“I had to meet a version of someone I fought a war against and another of whom is my son who married a god that is, for me, little more than an admin program I created. I had to have a little scream into a pillow after that one, because it was so baffling. We didn’t even do anything; we were just there to see it existed!” Day’s voice goes from oddly flat to somewhat frustrated as he speaks. He takes a moment to set his knitting down and stare blankly up at the ceiling. “I feel like the butt of a cosmic joke sometimes.”

He pauses and amends, “...At least, not entirely.” “It’s still amazing how you’ve managed to weaponize being a borderline sociopath,” Raine says, earning a loud bark of laughter. “I can weaponize anything. Give me enough time and I’ll weaponize the fucking air–”

“That one isn’t hard; just make it so nobody can breathe. Get a better example, Gilt.” Aleph’s monotone interruption makes the other roll his eyes. “Fine, then. I’ve learned to weaponize the perception of Tommys, especially Protege Tommys. Is that fucking better, your highness?”

The piglin hybrid smiles a little. “Yes, yes it is.” “Don’t antagonize him, ‘Leph. He’s just gonna get even more surly than usual,” Khons says quietly, though even that makes Daz bristle. “I don’t need coddling–” “I didn’t say you did. I was implying that you’re on edge because this is beyond anything you could have possibly planned for and you need your alarmingly thorough plans,” the sheep hybrid cuts him off. “I’m sure if you saw your therapist properly, he could spend weeks unpacking just that part of you.”

Daz narrows his eyes at the mask. “I’m sure he would, yeah.” He shifts his attention to the wall, huffing a little. “I have no idea where you got the idea that there’s other shadowy councils instead of, you know, putting two and two together when I literally called myself the hidden point–”

“It’s not that big of a leap of logic,” Aster says, earning a withering look, “I know you’re trying to regain control however you can, but maybe don’t be quite this big of an asshole.” “Consider going and fucking yourself, Aster! I know you play at being the leader to everyone else, but in here you’re not special!”

The far more heavily scarred Tommy leans forward, voice dropping a bit. “I never asked for that role and you fucking know that.” Daz leans forward as well, eyes thinning and a slow grin starting to form. “Maybe not, but you sure seem to be suited for it. Funny, I’d almost think that you were the–”

“Both of you, shut up.”

They look over to Raine, who has been watching them bicker with increasing unease. “Daz, are you going to explain the other thing you were told?”

It almost seems like Daz is disappointed when Aster settles himself fully back in his chair. “There’s more?” Khons sounds concerned, though his body language relaxes slightly when Aleph places a hand on his shoulder.

Daz’s attention flicks between the three of them and he sighs. “We were told that in some timelines, I’m not the only actor. My death is apparently a harbinger of the death of everyone. The Council should be notified in such an event in a way outside of the com system.”

A trade, then? Very well. As it stands, there is nothing stopping someone from asking the right question at the wrong time and unraveling your painstakingly woven tapestry. Cooperate and I will guarantee that no one will be able to directly tell others of Council business.

Daz pulls a butterfly knife from his inventory and starts spinning it. It’s partly a way to stim, partly a way to underline that he isn’t someone to be lightly crossed. After all, anyone who knows of his facade also knows what he’s capable of. "Clarify what cooperation means, as well as 'directly' and how broadly you define Council business. I also want to know what you will do to guarantee that our secrets will stay as such."

Cooperation means you answer questions within reason and as you see fit. Unlike some others, you are not yet obligated to answer. The Council would become half-bound; they must respond in some fashion. There is no limit to how in depth that answer must be.

Those in your realm cannot learn of Council business that they do not already know from us Observers. Attempts will either fail entirely or have those sections be unintelligible. However, it is not foolproof, and it is more than possible to provide indirect hints. Council business is defined as anything tying directly to the council--the tokens, the pass phrase, those who are in the Council, things like that.

The knife in Daz's hand twists around in an increasingly fast blur of movement. All of the warmth and cheer he had shown beforehand is now simply gone. In its place is a shrewd, calculated expression.

Raine makes his presence known again by clearing his throat softly. "What happens if we don’t take your deal?" Like Daz, he’s clearly weighing the pros and cons of making this bargain.

Other Observers know that the Council exists, it has a symbol, and that you two are tied to it. There would be no guarantee that none of them wouldn’t immediately tell someone who should not know. You will also lose out on some vitally important information.

Rain sighs, running a hand through his hair. "...Daz, is there even much of a choice?" The golden man abruptly stops spinning his knife. While it might not be an active one, he knows what a fucking threat sounds like. His expression is cold as ice and hard as obsidian. "Guarantee that Council meetings will not be spied on. I also want a way to get answers in turn."

I will guarantee that the important parts will be withheld. However, I see merit in showing the Council interacting without you gilding the yawning void inside of yourself. You will be given a way to know when you are being watched and will be able to ask yes or no questions on a very limited basis. This is an…unusual circumstance. I don’t like speaking like this. Know that if you abuse that privilege, I will revoke it.

Raine’s eyes narrow slightly. "Are we the only ones to get this sort of offer?" Daz takes a deep breath and puts the knife in his hand back into his inventory. He’s clearly thinking about the offer, even if he dislikes just about every facet of this. "Outline what the limitations are, then. We also will reserve the right to either wait until we feel secure enough to answer in full, or else the answers we give will be limited to what we feel comfortable saying in front of others. You also said you had vitally important information. What is it vital to?"

You’ll get an explanation within a few days. Your condition is entirely reasonable; I’ll allow it. You are the only ones to get this sort of deal, because nobody else needs it. Your group contains some of the most paranoid people on the server, and Daz easily ranks as the most so. Faking progress in therapy for years, hiding your true self behind a mask of warmth and friendliness, and only ever dropping said mask in the safety of the Council rooms...it’s rather impressive, actually. The information pertains to your goals and how to prevent a worst case scenario.

There's a long sigh from the gold-covered man. Finally, he stands and gives a mocking bow. "Very well then; I have no real choice in this matter. I agree to your terms on behalf of the rest of the Council of the Star. The Hidden Point formally greets the Observers and asks them to keep the tale of the monkey's paw in mind." His smile is more like a snarl, all teeth and warning. If his true self is what is being asked for, that’s what they’ll fucking get.

Raine stands up as well, grabbing his arm. "Daz, are you--" The blonde interrupts him, snapping, "It doesn't fucking matter! It’s less of a gamble to accept these terms now than risk leaks and have to try and do damage control later on! I don't like taking fucking chances when the stakes are this high."

They stare at each other for a long moment before Raine’s shoulders slump. "Fuck. Fine, then–no sense in arguing about this when it’s a done deal.” He inclines his head slightly, arms folding over his chest in a defensive way. ”The Southern Point formally greets the Observers." He gives Daz a long look and says, "The others won't be happy they weren't consulted for this."

He gets a flat look in return. "Agreeing was inevitable. Delaying just to argue in circles would only leave chances for information to leak. Lee’s safety and the safety of the Swords and Shields is too important to gamble like that. Speaking of which!” He turns from Raine to glare at the wall. “I want that information I was promised."

Your cooperation is appreciated; I look forward to seeing how you manage to twist this to your advantage. As for the information…there are timeliness where you are not the only actor. You are always one of the first to fall due to being a paranoid bastard with a massive information network. If you die, nothing but ash, blood, and the corpses of the entire server will remain. Find a way to ensure the rest of the Council would be alerted of your death even without the broadcast system. That is all I will say.

Daz's eyes have thinned at the contents of the message. "Duly noted. Thank you for your warning." He cracks his neck and looks at the other occupant of the room. "Might as well call everyone in. Sooner they know, sooner I can get bitched at for taking decisive action."

There's a soft huff of laughter from Raine, who is already pulling out his com to tap out a message to the others. Replies come back nearly instantly.

"...North is gonna get so fuckin pissy about this. He's going to be like, 'Memememeh, Daz why didn't you just do it this way, memememeh.' As though there’s a second option I just decided not to take out of some sort of perverse sense of enjoyment of this situation. No, asshole, I’m just fully fucking capable of seeing how badly not taking the deal this particular devil is offering would go,” Daz mutters, and pulls his knife out again. It’s clearly some sort of soothing mechanism for him, and it’s rather impressive how quickly it spins in his hand.

He walks out of the room and into a corridor made of stone and a few raw ores. Raine follows after him, shutting the door and grabbing the handful of torches on the wall as he goes. He blocks the path behind them with stone. They travel at least twenty blocks before they hop down into a moderately sized room. The space they exited from is sealed with gilded blackstone again, and now looks as unassuming as the rest of the walls do.

It’s pretty clear that this is the main room of whatever group they’re a part of; the style is consistent with the workroom, but there’s a sense of weight to the appearance that’s hard to fully put a finger on.

The walls are made of gilded blackstone and the room is well lit by glowstone. There are quartz pillars spaced at even intervals, with the four corners of the room having larger pillars. The quartz extends to a smooth quartz ceiling inset with more glowstone. The floor is made of a pattern of blackstone bricks, glowstone, and a small amount of quartz; the center of said pattern is a large, four-pointed star made of quartz that seems to shimmer ever so slightly in the light. Over top of the star is a round table with four seats around it.

There are a few cabinets and bench seats tucked into nooks created by the pillars. It’s over to one of the seats that Daz goes to first. He sets a button on the wall and pushes it; the wall slides open to reveal a seat that matches the ones already at the table. He pulls it out and sets it down, Raine having already shifted the chairs to account for the fifth chair.

Only a few seconds pass before the sole door in the room flies open, an unusual-looking pair bursting through it.

One of them is a piglin hybrid, so it’s likely that he’s a Techno. However, instead of pink, his body is black and streaked with gold–and it's streaked in such a way that looks like scars. The countless slashes of gold almost seem to shine in the light. He wears a simplified poet-style blouse and pants, along with a few pieces of jewelry. Of particular note are the older style of Sword ear cuff on one ear and the single crescent moon stud in the other.

It’s notable because the sheep hybrid he entered with wears an identical one. His wool shines and reflects the light in a way that makes it seem like it’s metallic. He wears a thick black cardigan with a gorgeous, intricate rendition of the night sky across the back. It that glints in the light in the same way as his wool–though it’s in a variety of colors. Aside from the moon earring, he has an older style of Shield ear cuff.

The mask pushed to the side of his head and made of gilded blackstone makes it sort of easy to guess who he is, but the bright green eyes and facial structure make it blindly obvious that he’s another version of Dream.

They both zero in on Daz, who has taken a seat in the chair he pulled out. He’s spinning his knife again, a stormy look on his face. Raine is to his right, the fingers of one hand tapping out an anxious pattern on the table.

“What the fuck did you do,” the Dream asks, voice quiet but still slightly threatening. Daz’s eyes flash and he glares at the Dream. “I negotiated so that we have some sense of security. The Observers–or at least one of them–knew about me. I’ll explain when North gets his ass here already–”

“I’m here.”

They all turn to the doorway, where the fifth person has entered. He’s another Tommy, though he’s got a severity to his expression that most wouldn’t associate with said person. He wears a navy hoodie with countless stars of varying sizes dotted across the entire thing. On one ear is a Sword ear cuff that looks very old, while the other has a duo of earrings in the shape of four pointed stars–one in calcite, one in diamond. Their presence lends a certain weight to this version of Tommy, because those two stones are associated with Achilles and Theseus. All of the stones associated with a specific person aren’t used so prominently without the recipient being very close with the person in question.

A starburst scar from an explosion reaches from part way up his left cheek to halfway down his neck. He pulls the door shut behind him and goes up to Daz, who abruptly stops spinning his butterfly knife so he can push himself to his feet.

“Oh, good, the gang’s all here. So long story short, Raine got some pointed questions from an Observer that included the phrase ‘The day is lovely, isn’t it?’. It was said in that exact wording while he was in the workroom. I was called in to figure out how the fuck we should handle this, and then someone–something–else started speaking. It felt…different. It felt weird. They offered a deal–we’re obligated to answer questions in some fashion, but we can wait to do so until we feel secure and/or the Observers will just have to deal with a very bland answer. In return, we get to ask a limited amount of yes or no questions, we’ll know when we’re being observed, and most importantly any damning information tied to the Council can’t be passed on to others. I made a judgement call that it was safer to take that deal now rather than risk Observers rushing to tell others.”

The other Tommy takes several long minutes to consider that, one hand covering his mouth as he thinks. “...Do you know if this is a typical thing they do?” Raine, now the only one seated, speaks up. “We were told that nobody else needed such a deal, because we’re some of the most paranoid people on the server. They repeatedly called Daz a void and gilded, so…I dislike this entire thing, but I agree with his choice. It was just too risky to not take the deal with this devil.”

The second Dream and the Techno both look at each other, then back to Daz. “...Alright, then. We’ve trusted you this far, we’ll trust you with this, too,” the Dream says, voice a little subdued.

He awkwardly gives a little nod towards a wall and says, “The Western Point formally greets…the Observers, I guess we’re calling you. I’m Khons, and I don’t take kindly to liars and threats. Remember that.” The Techno sighs and gives a somehow even more awkward head tilt at the same wall. “The Eastern Point formally greets the Observers. I go by Aleph, and I’m even less tolerant of betrayal than the average Techno.”

The two of them sit down, with Khons on Raine’s right side and Aleph beside him. The final chair is taken by the other Tommy, who gives a small nod. “The Northern Point formally greets the Observers. I’m Aster, and I’m more than happy to find a way to hurt anyone and anything that stands between the Council and our goals. Don’t assume that being intangible will save you, because physical pain isn’t the only kind of pain that exists. I’m sure I can find a way to make things unpleasant if I need to.”

His smile is sharp, not unlike Daz’s.

Ooc::

The Council of the Star is a very unique group within Sanctuary. These five paranoid bastards are the secret heads of the Swords and Shields. The Council’s very existence is veiled to the majority of the members of the Swords and Shields, and even those who do know about it only know a very limited amount. Not even Day is aware of them.

The Council members all have backstories, ties to others, and reasons for their actions. They will answer questions, though be warned that they’ll be more than happy to stonewall if they feel the need to.