Receeding Tides (mcyt)

Chapter 3

I'm up to date with the canon SMP lore (including those who are dead). This is just a reminder that these characters are the content creators's online personalities and that they're purposely written out of character to seem different from the creator's persona because this story takes place in reality. Carry on!
-Yvnan

Tommy woke up around dawn out of habit and took over watch for Dream. Wiping the sweat off his goggles, he ignored his growling stomach and opted to watch the sunrise through the tinted window.

The sky was still dark, but gradually, streaks of orange and pink appeared seemingly out of thin air from behind clumps of dark grey. Tommy sighed admiring the melting colors. Hues of light blue slowly formed a gradient from navy to violet to azure. The sky amazed him. Always creating works of art no matter the circumstance.

He'd done this countless times before with Tubbo in game, but watching it by himself and in real life just wasn't the same. Tommy preferred Minecraft's sunrise over this non-pixelated version. Once the sun was above the horizon and the sky was a single colour, Tommy let himself drift back to sleep.

The sun was high in the late-afternoon sky when Dream finally woke, and as soon as he realised the time, the guilt crept back into his stomach. His body heated itself, and sweat collected under his clothes. He ripped off his mask and wiped the sweat from his forehead. Looking at the sleeping Tommy, Dream sighed and collected their miniscule amount of belongings into his backpack.

Counting what they had between the two of them, there was no way what they had now would be enough to buy a trip across the English Channel. Maybe one of them, but certainly not both. And neither of them were travel-sized enough to fit in a backpack. They would need to scavenge around a little. Dream gently woke Tommy offering him his half eaten can of tuna.

"Eat up, man. You're gonna want some food in your systems."

Tommy groggily took the can from Dream's hand, "Fish? This the best you got?"

Even after the apocalypse, he refused to eat tuna. Especially from a can. Something about the texture of raw fish was too squishy for Tommy's taste. It made him want to throw it back up.

"Sorry I don't have gapples," Dream chuckled at his own joke. "Not much that would last a trans-Atlantic trip."

Tommy looked at the expiration date, "What the fuck? This shit expired in June! Dream, it's almost September."

Dream shrugged and zipped up his backpack, "Eh, it's only a couple months. You'll live."

"Yeah, with one hell of a stomach ache."

Tommy scrunched his nose. Expired tuna was disgusting, but he pinched his nose and ate it. Holding his nose, the taste was sort of bearable? But the fish still left a revolting metallic film over his tongue. In any other circumstances, Tommy would've gladly thrown the whole can into the nearest garbage bin.

"So, Dream?" Tommy fiddled with his bandana mask. "Where did you hear Wilbur was last?"

"Last I heard he was somewhere in France with George."

"That's not too far, actually."

"Thank gosh," Dream replied, "I thought it was gonna be like, far far. Like, SoCal to Maine type far."

That sentence was far too American for Tommy's comprehension. What was a SoCal? He knew Maine was a state, but he didn't know how far was it from this SoCal place. Tommy ignored the Dream's dreadfully American terms.

"France is like, thirty-ish kilometers away from the British coast. That's like, only a few days away or something."

Dream paused. His eyebrows creased , and he held up a set of fingers muttering numbers behind his mask.