#ruby's fic

And on the other hand I can do things like Le Frog is Harlem Shade's sugar daddy.

Pix brushed away some of the cobwebs from the edge of the window.  The glass had been surprisingly intact, perfectly preserved in its original frame.  Some of the original dye still clung to the glass, hinting at what the stained image may have looked at once upon a time.

He stood on the tips of his toes, reaching with one hand to remove the web, but it stubbornly refused to tear from the brick it was attached to.  Irritated, Pix sighed and set his candle down on the windowsill, while he yanked at the cobweb.

“Well, this is new,” a voice said.  Pix stumbled back, startled.  He lost his balance on the uneven ground, and fell flat on his butt.  He muttered a few choice words under his breath.  He picked himself off, and brushed himself off, hoping that whoever had spoken hadn’t seen his utter lack of grace.

He heard the person clear their throat, and he glanced towards the window.  His brow furrowed at the sight.  The figure looked like him, but…well for starters, his beard was neater.  He was dressed in flowing cotton robes rather than the adventure’s gear Pix sported.  He held a candle in his hands, just like the one Pix had set on the windowsill.  On his brow sat a delicate circle of copper.

“What are you?” Pix breathed, drawing closer to the window.  The figure smiled softly.  “We always had a knack for asking the hard questions right away, didn’t we?” they asked.  “There’s not one answer.  You could say I’m a ghost.  Or a memory.  Or a god.  All of them would be true.”

Pix rolled his eyes.  Would it kill people to be a little less cryptic sometimes?  The figure seemed to pick up on his irritation, and he chuckled fondly.  “In my homeland, we called our kind Prophet.  Honestly, I would have thought our line died out when Pixandria fell.  It seems I was wrong.”

“Who are you?” Pix demanded.  “You can call me The Copper King, as I imagine you have the name all Prophets are given,” the figure answered.  Great, more riddles.  Pix snorted, and again, the figure smiled in fondness.  “I promise you.  Answers will come in time.  But for now, continue as you have.  I’m sure you’ll see your first vision soon.”

Pix opened his mouth to ask what that meant, but he was cut off as The Copper King seemed to remember something.  “Oh, and Pixlriffs?  Do look out for Sausage if you can.  He’s always had a knack for getting himself in trouble.  I’d hate to see him get hurt again.”  And with that, the figure blew out their candle.  Pix’s candle flickered out at the same time, leaving him standing alone in the darkness.

Joey continued on, the witch’s warning echoing through his head.  Infection and rot were coming for the Lost Empire.  What did that even mean?  Was there some kind of disease coming for the Lost Empire?  If that was the answer, how could it possibly be his fault?

His foot caught on a tree root, and he went flying.  He tumbled head over heels, sprawled across the ground.  He took a moment to lay there, catching his breath.

Leaves swayed overhead, and dim light filtered in through the leaves.  It must have been near sunset by now.  How long had he been running for?  Why was he even running in the first place?  Prophecies rarely meant what they sounded like on the surface.

Hadn’t he learned that time and time again in those old houses?  He was probably overreacting.  Things would probably turn out fine.  He shouldn’t panic.  If he panicked, things would go wrong.

“You’ve got a good thing going, man,” he muttered.  “Don’t throw it away.”  

He gave himself a moment to breathe and regain his bearings.  Then, he pushed himself to his feet and continued on.  He had a mission.

He checked his map, trying to reorient himself.  It looked as if the marker for the mansion were growing larger and closer.  Maybe the map had been magic.  It would make sense, given how creepy that trader had been.  Well, that and the fact that he was searching for magical artifacts in the first place.

He forced himself to continue on.  He had spent longer than he intended at the riverbank, helping the old lady with her laundry.  By now, the sun was high in the sky, having reached its peak.  In a few hours, it would begin drifting towards the horizon.

The trees here were alive with the sound of birdsong, and dappled sunlight danced over the ground, moving as the sun sank.  It was beautiful.  

He couldn’t relax.  He had managed to shove the memories of past times away for now, but he was still unsettled.  He could feel the worry swirling just beneath the surface.

“You’re fine,” he reminded himself.  “It was just a prophecy.  You’ve got a good thing going, man.  Don’t go chasing ghosts.”

Eventually, the trees began to thin, and the ground turned less soggy.  The various ponds and puddles that dotted the swamp flowed back into the river.  It stretched off into the west, towards where the sun was now halfway below the horizon.  Before him was an empty plain.

Joey took a moment to check the map.  Now, he needed to go roughly northeast.  About here should be the halfway point, at least if he was reading this right.  It would probably be best to make camp for the night here and continue the rest of the way in the morning.  He pulled some wool and fences from out of his inventory and set to work.

⸎

Once he had pitched a rudimentary tent, he began piling loose bits of bark and branches.  He lit the small fire and settled in to watch the sunset.  It was beautiful this far out, turning the whole sky a fiery orange.  For a moment, he just let himself breathe, settling in beside the little fire.  It was nice.

God, when was the last time he had actually sat down and watched the sunset?  When was the last time he had even gone camping?  It had to have been when he was still living in Downtown LA.  

He must have taken a trip to get out of the dust and smog for a little bit.  It had been wonderful to get into the fresh air for a little bit.  It had been just the reset he had needed.  And then, he’d come home…oh.

He’d come home to the letter that had informed him of his inheritance.  He had returned home, just to learn about that house in the twenties.

That unsettled feeling from earlier had returned.  Joey shifted nervously, until he was sitting in a way that would let him stand if he needed to.  Out of habit, he glanced around the forest, scoping it for dangers and exit routes.  There was nothing out there.  Even the animals had quieted, seeming to have settled in for the night.

“You’re just being paranoid,” he muttered to himself.  His tone was a bit more harsh than he had meant it to be.  “Nothing’s going to happen.  It’s a different world.  You’re safe.  The Society isn’t here.”

Except they were.  Because he had seen their symbol carved on that statue in Rivendell, there for everyone to see.  Because there was never anywhere that was truly safe.

Joey shook his head to try to rid himself of the thoughts.  It was relatively effective, but still, he couldn’t bring himself to finish watching the sunset.  After a while, he admitted defeat, and crawled into his tent to try to get some sleep.

But that unsettled feeling wouldn’t leave.  Anxiety and fear were swirling through his chest.  What if he was wrong this time?  Because The Society was here.  And if the Society was here then maybe that meant…maybe that meant there was a chance it could all happen again.

And if it happened again, he wouldn’t be there in time to stop it.  Because he was out here, laying in a tent, wasting time.  But of course, there was a chance he was just being paranoid.

Besides, Hade had really been looking forward to those totem things.  They were so important to the Lost Empire.  Could he really just abandon that mission for his own paranoia?  He should at least check with someone else before he went rushing back.

But who could he ask?  Who could he even trust with all that?  But…Scott had had The Society’s symbol in his empire.  He might understand.  And besides, Joey didn’t have to say all of it.  If Scott really was in the know, surely he’d be able to read between the lines.  And if he wasn’t, well then Joey wouldn’t have to let go of this crushing weight quite yet.

He reached for his communicator and punched in a message to Scott.

“Hey, man.  How are things going?”

After a moment, the communicator pinged with Scott’s response.

“Not much.  I was stuck in meetings all day.  What are you up to?”

“Out exploring.  There anything weird going on back there?”

“Not really, no.  I mean, Katherine’s whole empire is weird, but that probably doesn’t really count.”

“You sure there’s been no sense of impending doom?”

“Um, no?  Why do you ask?”

Joey considered it for a moment, before settling on a half truth.

“Just having a night.”

“Ah.  In that case, yeah, there are absolutely zero unusual occurrences happening here.  You’ll be the first I tell if that changes though.”

“Thanks, man.”

“No problem.”

Joey put his communicator away, somewhat reassured.  He rolled over on his side and tried to get some sleep.  He couldn’t seem to get comfortable however.

Every part of him was screaming at him to move, to get up and do something.

“It’s just paranoia,” he reminded himself.  “You’re just scared.  That’s all.  Nothing’s going on.”

He closed his eyes, but all he could see was that night in Everlock.  He had stood by the fire, watching it as the sky darkened around him and waited to show his friends to their deaths.

God damnit.

⸎

A few moments later, Joey had his tent packed up.  He could make camp in the morning, when it was daylight out.  He should have reached his destination by then.  He could get a few hours of shut eye, and then explore in the afternoon.  He set off through the plain.

It was quiet out here.  Occasionally, a sheep would wander up to him and butt its head against his legs.  Absent-mindedly, he’d reach down and pet them.  It was nice.  Relaxing.

He could feel their warmth against him.  It reminded him that they were alive.  He was alive.  For the first time that night, he was able to set aside that unsettling feeling, and just drink in the cool night air.

Finally, the sun began to poke over the edge of the horizon.  After about an hour, Joey reached the edge of the plain.  It dropped off into a sheer cliff.  At the base sat a densely wooded valley, and he could see a large roof in the center of the forest.  On the other side of the valley, the sun was turning the sky a soft pink.

Scott had toured Joey through the entirety of the Sheep Shack, showing him both the ridiculous amounts of raw product and the beautiful textiles the warehouse produced.  Now, the two of them were sitting on the edge of a small hidden ledge, overlooking large fields of crops.

“What’s that crop over there?” Joey asked, pointing to a sprawling field of dark green plants.  He had seen even larger fields of the stuff on his way to the city, and he didn’t recognize it in the slightest.  Scott’s brow furrowed, as he squinted at the plants.

“I think that’s Rivendellian Mint,” he said slowly.  “Yeah, it’s gotta be.  My mom used to keep a planter of it in our house.”  He paused, then he snorted to himself.  “Oh my god, I cannot believe I never put the dots together.  Of course I’m from Rivendell.  My mom must have been from here, too.  I mean, the mountains match her stories perfectly, and her little stag statue and the mint and jewelry…” he trailed off, getting lost in the memories of his childhood.  Joey waited patiently.

After a moment, he shook himself out of it, and said, “Well anyways, it’s one of our staple crops.  It’s super useful, and it tastes amazing.  What about you?  Does the Lost Empire have any staple crops?”  “I mean, we have a bunch of cocoa beans, but nothing that we really farm.  Don’t have a ton of fertile soil.  I think our exports are mostly things like wood and stuff.”

Scott nodded to himself.  “That sounds like a good trade to me,” he said.  “Lumber for wool.  I mean, I don’t know if you’ve noticed but we don’t exactly have a lot of trees.”  “Yeah,” Joey said with a wry smile.  “It was a bit odd when I left the jungle.  I was getting kind of used to all the greenery.  But Rivendell is really pretty too.  I like the mint fields.  I’m sure it’s really pretty in the winter too, with all the snow you guys must get.”  “Me too,” Scott said with a small smile.  “Me too.”

The two of them fell into silence for a while, watching the farmers in their fields and letting the cool air seep into their bones.  “It’s odd, isn’t it?” Scott said after a while.  “Getting dropped into this, I mean.  It’s like…” he trailed off, searching for the right words.

“Like finding out that you had this whole secret side to you, and before you could even process that, suddenly you're responsible for dozens of lives?” Joey suggested.  He didn’t pull his gaze away from the peaceful fields.  

“Yeah,” Scott murmured.  “Yeah, exactly like that.  How are we even supposed to cope with that?  Everyone suddenly expects me to have all the answers, to just know everything.  Even my advisors.  I mean, thank god for them, but still…they just expect me to know everything, to just act like I’ve been trained for this.  But I haven’t been.  How do I not break, you know?”

“Right?” Joey said.  “I mean, Hade has been nothing but wonderful, and without her I would be drowning.  But everyone looks at me with so much respect and-and fear.  And I’ve done nothing to earn it.  I’m just this guy.  If anything, I should be trying to earn their respect, not the other way around!”

“What were you before all of this?” Scott asked.  “What was your home server like?”  Joey laughed softly to himself.  “I was a musician and an actor,” he said with a smile.  It was the easiest explanation.  He wasn’t sure people like Scott would even know what YouTube was.  

“Man, how did I go from something so simple to being an emperor of all things?” he mused.  “As for where I was before all of this…well I lived in the desert.  Still trying to get used to jungle humidity.  How about you?”

“Oh,” Scott said with a shrug.  “I helped a friend with running this big championship, MCC.  It’s where the best of the best come to compete in like a bunch of games and survival games.  It’s fun.  It was way warmer there than it is here.  Still trying to adjust to how cold it is.  Seriously, I feel like I’m just going to freeze by the time winter rolls around.”

“Do you miss it at all?” Joey asked.  “MCC, I mean?”  There was a moment, but then Scott nodded.  “I think I do.  It was a lot less responsibility.  A bit more care-free.  But, honestly, I like being here too.  These are my people.  It’s…it’s nice to know that this is where I belong, that I have a place carved out for me.  What about you?  Do you miss your old server?”

Joey turned the question over in his mind.  He watched the farmers in their field, happily tending to their crops.  They looked so peaceful, so free.  

“I don’t know,” he said finally.  “My home…there are a lot of people there I care about, people that I’m probably never gonna see again.  And I miss them.  A lot.  But at the same time…this is a fresh start, you know?  It’s a hell of a stressful one, but I think I really want it too.  It’s nice to not have expectations about what kind of person you’re supposed to be.  It’s nice to get the chance to really do some good.  Does that make sense?”

Scott laughed good-naturedly.  “I think you’re a wiser man than I am, Joey.  I’d be honored to form an alliance with you.  If you’ll have me, of course.”  He extended his hand, and Joey took it eagerly.

“I’ll send the first shipment of wool in a few days, once I get everything arranged,” Scott said.  “When can I expect some wood from The Lost Empire?”  “Probably in a day or two.  I actually have a lot of spare wood right now cause I just finished clearing a giant area of the jungle.  If you want, I can also send some other plants and you can see if you can get them to grow here.”

Scott smiled brightly.  “That sounds wonderful!  Now, do you need any help getting home through the nether?”  Joey nodded, and let Scott pull him to his feet.  “Follow me!” he said.

⸎

Joey climbed gingerly over the ridges, holding the warm stone in a death grip.  Scott waited at the bottom of the rock face patiently.  His cloak had been removed and folded over his arm and his wings were flapping gently, keeping him cool.

“Stupid wings keeping him cool,” Joey grumbled under his breath.  “Stupid wings that mean he can just jump off ledges and be perfectly safe.”  Finally, his feet hit the flat stone beneath him, and he pushed away from the cliff.

“You could have just jumped down, you know,” Scott said.  “You would have been fine.  Wouldn’t have even been that much damage.  Honestly, you probably would have only lost one heart at most.”

“Easy for you to say,” Joey retorted, “Mr. ‘I have big giant wings that mean-’”  He paused, Scott words registering.  “One heart?  I only have one heart.  I’m pretty sure I'll die if I lose that.”  Scott’s brow furrowed slightly.  “No, I mean like, your hearts.  On your health bar.”

Joey’s confusion deepened.  Scott sighed, but his irritation wasn’t directed towards Joey.  “Okay,” he said, “Here, open your inventory screen.”  He raised his hand, and pushed an invisible button.  Joey did the same, and a holographic screen shimmered into existence in front of him.

“Alright, so you see where your armor screen is?” Scott said.  Joey’s gaze traveled towards the miniature floating hologram of himself and he nodded.  “Good.  Now, just to the right of that, right above the slot for your shield, you should see ten little hearts.  Those show you how close to dying you are.”

“If you have all ten hearts, that means you’re perfectly healthy,” Scott continued.  “The more hearts you lose, the more damage you’ve taken.  Once you lose all ten hearts, you die.  Now, since we’re players, we’ll just respawn with all of our hearts.  But if you want to avoid dying, eating is a really good way to refuel hearts, but sleeping will help you recover all of them.  It’s why we never have to worry about getting sick or anything.”

Slowly Joey closed his inventory, and raised his eyebrow.  “I’m still not leaping off of cliffs unless I have wings.  That’s a habit I’m not particularly eager to be rid of.”  He didn’t bother to comment on the remark about illness.  That was too much to unpack for today.  Scott shrugged.  “Suit yourself.  Come on, we’re almost halfway there.”

Joey followed Scott along the edge of the plateau, trying not to think of the boiling ocean of lava to his right.  Finally, another landmass loomed out of the fog, and a thin bridge hung suspended over the molten rock.  It swayed gently, small and rickety.  Scott leaped on it without hesitation.  Joey paled.

    “No,” he muttered.  “Hell no.  Absolutely not.”  Scott rolled his eyes.  “It’s perfectly safe.  Even without wings.  See?”  He stomped his foot against the stone to demonstrate.

    Joey’s breath caught as he waited for Scott to fall into the lava beneath him.  But the bridge held steady.  “Perfectly safe!” Scott said enthusiastically.  Joey still hesitated, not quite willing to trust the rickety stone.  Scott sighed, then, he grabbed Joey by the wrist and yanked him onto the bridge.

    Joey yelped in a rather undignified manner, his foot nearly sliding off the edge of the bridge.  Scott caught him easily, steadying him until he gained his balance.  “Screw you,” Joey muttered, heart pounding in terror.  “You asshole.”

    “Uh huh,” Scott said, completely unimpressed.  “Would you have gotten on the bridge if I didn’t pull you on?”  They stared at each other in silence for a minute, but then Joey relented.  “No.”

    “Then I have no regrets,” Scott said with a smug smile.  “You know, you kind of remind me of a guy in MCC.  He’s a lot like you, just less polite.”  “Oh, really?” Joey grumbled.  “Yeah,” Scott laughed.  “He is.  I think he gets it from his brother.  Which is honestly really ironic, cause his brother is one of the most famous PVPers ever, and yet Wilbur is like a pathetic wet rag compared to him.”

    “That’s probably why he’s so sarcastic,” Joey said.  “Gotta make up for it somehow.”  Scott snorted.  “Probably.  And get this, he looks exactly like this other competitor, even down to the soulless all-knowing eyes.  Even their go-to outfit is the same!  The only way I can tell them apart is because Wil’s sweater is yellow and he wears his beanie all the time.”

    “Really?” Joey asked, disbelieving.  “Do they know each other?”  Scott shook his head.  “Not until they were both in MCC!  It was a complete coincidence!”

    Joey listened as Scott told him about the competitors in MCC over the years, how each of them had made their mark on the event, how each of them had carved out a name for themselves.  Finally, Scott reached the end of his stories, and Joey realized that he was now standing on the other side of the bridge, his feet on solid ground.

    “Were you telling me all of that to distract me?” Joey accused.  But he didn’t bother to hide his grateful expression.  “A magician never reveals his secrets,” Scott said with a wink.  “Come on.  Your portal’s through here.”

⸎

Scott had always been one to keep his promises.  He didn’t believe in taking back his word once given.  Normally that had served him well, kept him in the good graces of the people who had mattered, kept him on top, kept him alive.  He had always kept his promises, but that had been more out of self interest than anything.  That had changed when he had met Jimmy.  Now, now he kept them because he wanted to.

Jimmy pressed a poppy into his hands.  The gesture was meant to be forceful, but Scott could still feel the timidness behind it, as well as an odd tenderness.  “Be my ally,” Jimmy said.  “Please.  Promise me we can stay teammates.”  And for some reason, Scott agreed.  He tucked the poppy behind his ear and nodded.  And well, if he found himself staring at Jimmy’s eyes, losing himself in the bright sky blue color, no one needed to know.

Scott waited outside Jimmy’s door, a wreath of poppies held in his hands.  He raised his hand to knock, but paused, nervous.  “It’s just Jimmy,” he reminded himself.  “There’s nothing to be nervous about.”  So, he rapped his knuckles against the wooden door.  It swung open to reveal Jimmy standing there, almost as if he had been expecting him.  

“Hello,” he said with a small wave.  Scott returned it awkwardly.  “What can I do for you?” Jimmy asked, pointedly not looking at the wreath in Scott’s hands.  Instead, he held Scott’s gaze confidently.  Scott had to fight the flush of red that crept into his face.

“I…I-um…” Scott stuttered nervously.  God, Jimmy’s looked so good right now.  Why did the sunlight have to make his hair glow like a halo?  He looked like an angel.  “Do you want to go out with me?” Scott blurted out before he could stop himself.  Horrible, awful silence filled the air for a moment, but then Jimmy threw his head back and began to laugh.  

“About damn time,” he said.  “I’ve been waiting for ages.”  Scott just blinked, not sure how to respond.  “So…so you do want to go out with me?” he asked after a moment.  “Yes, Scott, I want to go out with you,” Jimmy said.  “Is that flower wreath for me?”  Scott glanced down at his hands, having forgotten that he was holding the thing.  Then he nodded, and handed it to Jimmy, his face bright red.  Jimmy took it and placed it on his head.  It was slightly too big for him, and he had to push it up.  Scott thought it looked adorable.  “You actually like me,” he muttered, awed, more to himself than to Jimmy.  But Jimmy turned to him with a bright smile.  “Yes, Scott.  I really do like you.  I promise.”

Jimmy lay, curled into Scott’s side.  Scott stroked his hair gently.  They breathed in the cool night air, the mountain top lit by bright starlight.  “I love you,” Scott murmured to Jimmy.  Jimmy snuggled closer and hummed in agreement.  “You’ve gotta say it back,” Scott teased.  “I know you want to.”  

“I want you to marry me,” Jimmy said.  Scott froze.  Jimmy’s head snapped up and he swore under his breath.  “Oh my god.  I didn’t mean to say that.  It just slipped out, and I mean it’s probably not the best time and-” 

Jimmy was cut off by gentle laughter, and Scott just pulled him closer.  “I want to marry you too, Jimmy.”  Then, something took root in his chest.  It was warm and beautiful.  “I am going to marry you,” he decided.  “After this is all over, after we sort out Dogwarts and The Sand People and, and everything.  I’m going to marry you, Jimmy.  I swear it.”

Scott watched Ren warily, ready for any sign that things would turn to violence.  The king’s hand rested on the hilt of his sword, but he didn’t draw it.  Martyn seemed to be watching Jimmy just as intensely.  

“So,” Scott said slowly.  “You want us to what, join your protection racket?”  “I wouldn’t call it a protection racket,” Ren said jovially.  “More like an alliance.  We protect you when you need it and in exchange we can call upon you to defend Renchanting when necessary.”  

“I suppose an alliance could be beneficial,” Scott muttered.  “It would of course have to be mutual, but-” “No,” Jimmy interrupted.  “We’re not joining up with you.”  “Excuse us, gentleman,” Scott said, with a forced smile.  Then, he grabbed Jimmy by the upper arm and pulled him out of earshot.  

“Jimmy, what are you doing?” he hissed.  “We need this alliance.”  “No,” Jimmy said firmly.  “‘Cause I know what’s gonna happen.  You’re gonna go off with them, they're gonna tie you up and take you to that altar of theirs, and I’m gonna be looking in your eyes as they sacrifice you.  I’m not gonna let that happen.  Ever.  I’m not losing my fiance.  I swear it.”

Scott lay the poppies at the base of the grave.  He wasn’t going to cry.  He had told himself he wasn’t going to cry.  Tears fell to the ground anyways.  “I’m sorry,” he whispered.  “I couldn’t protect you.  I couldn’t keep my promise.  I’m sorry.  I love you, Jimmy.  I miss you.  I just…come back to me, please.  I promised you I was going to marry you, remember?  I’m going to keep that promise if it’s the last thing I do.  I’m going to marry you someday, Jimmy.  I just need you to come back to me.  Please.  Please let me keep my promise.”

Scott stood in the middle of a flower filled valley.  Gone was his crown of grief.  Gone were the tattoos of hearts that marked his lives.  

“Dude, you’re here!” a familiar voice called from behind him.  He turned to find Jimmy jogging down the stone path towards him.  His heart skipped a beat, but then he was running, sprinting towards the beautiful angel that was Jimmy.  

He scooped the smaller man up in his arms, and buried his face in the soft golden hair.  They stayed like that for a minute, just breathing in each other’s presence.  Finally, the two broke apart, and Scott glanced around, trying to gather his bearings.  “Where are we?” he asked.  “In the after,” Jimmy said, his eyes not leaving Scott’s face.  Scott met Jimmy’s eyes.  

Hermes pulled his pillow further over his ears.  When Aunt Lizzie had invited him to stay over for the night, he hadn’t expected so much noise.

Animalia was alive with the sound of birdsong and roars.  But most importantly, and most irritatingly, Aunt Lizzie was in the next room over, filling the house with the sound of tortured caterwalling.  Hermes loved his Aunt Lizzie.  He really did.  But did she seriously have to scream out the maddening feline song at eleven o’ clock at night?