MCYT Oneshots (and Requests)

2. My Son...

Prompt: Dadza and Ghostbur, evil Dream, angst

TW: torture, drowning, violence, family problems

~

The humid air mingles with the smell of dewy grass; the blades hunched over, as if in pain or sorrow. Crunching dirt can be heard above the murmuring winds, the impact of worn leather sandals hitting ground. The aforementioned wind ruffles sandy hair and the man pushes it out of his tired blue eyes, squinting as he tries to scower his surroundings through the glare of the lowering sun, searching for the familiar and deathly person.

'You're early.'

Philza immediately jumps back, twisting around to come face-to-mask with the tall, young man in the green hoodie. On top of his clothing, he wore full enchanted netherite and wielded a gleaming axe in his gloved hand. He was dressed for a fight whilst Philza came in peace.

His usually deep green kimono swirls around him as he looks at the other, up and down. 'You're early too,' Phil quips suspiciously. 'Your letter said 4 o'clock.'

'And it's 3:40. Yes, I know.'

Dream was dismissive, already walking away whilst swinging his axe nonchalantly. Philza rolls his eyes behind the younger's back but follows him, nonetheless. With shifty eyes, he is wary to be seen by anyone else in the server. He was tired beyond belief; limbs sore from labor, mind numb from thinking. No matter how hard he tried to distract himself from his own thoughts by working, he couldn't escape his own head. He couldn't sleep well anymore, evident to all by the old man's dark circles underneath his eyes. Dream had noticed this instantly upon meeting him. The masked man smirks, a chuckle leaving his lips that Philza picks up, but remains quiet as they resume this mysterious journey.

The duo exit touched areas and head deep into the jungle forestry. Dream strolls confidently through the trees, touching the bark periodically, as if it helps his navigation. Maybe it did, who knows. Dream was a smart man.

Philza's confusion grows, trying to register where they were going as he takes brisk strides, feigning purpose.

'Dream, what's going on?' he finally asks.

He receives a contemplative hum and nothing more. Philza sighs, annoyed, jogging slightly to walk side-by-side with the masked man. Dream doesn't react, continuing to lead the way. Slowly, so very slowly, the sky grows darker. Not because it was turning nighttime- it was too early for that. It was like the sky knew something they didn't.

'Dream.'

'We're almost there, Phil, be patient.' His response was cool, collected, but Phil wasn't reassured. If anything, a chill crawled up his back, making the hairs behind his neck stand up.

'That doesn't answer my question, Dream.'

From the corner of his eye, Philza swears he sees a sliver of a smile peaking from under the mask. Philza gulps, definitely knowing now something was wrong. With a shuddering breath, he straightens his spine and stops walking, forcing Dream to also halt his tracks.

'What are you doing, Phil?' Dream questions innocently, tilting his head to the side as his mask stares at the older with dead, drawn-on eyes.

'This is a death-trap, isn't it?' Philza states, grabbing his sword and pointing it at Dream. His hands shake from being so exhausted, but there's still fire adorn in his eyes.

A crossbow is aimed at Philza's chest while Dream's other hand expertly tosses and catches a potion of harming. They stand facing each other menacingly, waiting for the other to make the first move.