redamancy || georgenotfound

eleven

Having a building competition with George was guaranteed to boost my ego, since he was a perfunctory builder.

"How did filming go yesterday?" I questioned as George flew around his messy sculpture, placing blocks here and there. If I were being honest, I had absolutely no clue what direction his statue was going in—it had no structure whatsoever, just blobs of yellow, red, and brown here and there.

"It went well. I can't say the result though, you have to watch the Manhunt in order to find out," he subtly advertised, causing me to chuckle.

"Sure, yeah. I'm placing bets it was Dream."

Silence from George's end followed the statement, before he spoke. "I'm not saying anything."

"I know," I smiled to myself, which turned into a curl of my lip as I observed George's finishing touches. "George, I mean this in the nicest way possible, but what the hell is that?"

George's Minecraft skin crouched on the top of the statue before flying back out to where I remained to admire his work of "art." "This is where you have to guess." He had stated the obvious.

"Well, I have absolutely no clue."

"Come on, is it really that bad?" scoffed George. I squinted, attempting to at least try and analyze the mixture of blocks.

"Okay... is it a Minecraft skin? I can kind of tell there's a square head... and such," I concluded and sat back in my chair, waiting for George's response.

"Yes, actually," he laughed. "At least you got that far."

"Mm... is it... I have no clue, who wears yellow? Is it someone on the Dream SMP?"

"Yes."

"Can I use the internet?"

"No."

I sighed, and rested my chin in my hands, racking my brain for any Minecraft skin that remotely resembled George's horrible interpretation.

"I'll give you a hint, he's dead," George tried after the long silence.

I scoffed. "Okay, Wilbur."

"There you go, that was easy," he exclaimed, and I could envision him throwing his head back in relief.

"Only because you gave me the hint, not from your atrocious sculpture," I argued, crossing my legs in my chair and anticipated a shout of complain in response. However, the only thing I got was a sigh, and a reluctant "Okay, your turn."

"You okay George?" I frowned, sensing something off about his behavior.

"Yeah, I'm good. It's your turn," he shrugged off, his normal peppiness returning within a second. I puffed my cheeks up to capture the words threatening to leave my mouth, and flew over to a new biome to begin brainstorming for my sculpture.

"Should we follow a theme, or something?" I asked.

"Mm, you can do anything, as long as you don't do worse than me," George decided, spawning a couple of zombies on a tree out of boredom. I sharply sighed and began scavenging through the many different colors and types of blocks offered to me in the inventory. When a design finally clicked in my head, I let the idea travel from my brain into my hands, which moved according to my will.

"Okay, I see you're actually trying," George noticed after the silence I had gotten used to. My brows creased together as I placed my last block and flew back to where George's character stood to admire my sculpture.

"It's alright, you can just admit mine is better," I shot back with the same amount of sass George had laced into his statement. This pushed him to scoff and move into my screen so all I could see was the back of his Minecraft skin. "Stop being childish."