volaticus [dsmp]

┊11. you're just scared of the future!

TW:

none

756 words

The 15th.

The day before.

Wilbur pulled the trench coat tighter around himself as best as he could with one hand. Tonight there was a slight chill in the air, seeping through his jacket and biting into his bones.

Dream seemed unbothered by the cold, whistling a merry tune as he made his way through the forest in the direction of Manberg.

It still made Wilbur's stomach churn when he saw the country, with it's festival decorations hung proudly from every available space, balloons and flags and banners and little games set up along the edges. He felt a swell of pride. Despite working for a tyrant, Tubbo had done a good job.

"You got the sand?" Dream's voice snapped him out of his thoughts. He was hunched over a crafting table, arranging little piles of gunpowder into their appropriate places.

"Yeah." Wilbur mumbled, opening his inventory and handing a few stacks of sand to Dream.

He hated this. He hated the whole idea, hated being lead around by Dream and following his orders like some sort of obedient dog, but he had to. His safety, and that of everyone in Pogtopia rested on Dream. He knew their location, knew their weaknesses, and all it took was one mistake on Wilbur's part and Dream would expose all of this to the entire server.

Wilbur shivered again, stuffing his hands into his pockets and wrapping his wing around his shoulders in an attempt to ward of the cold.

"Take this, start digging around the podium." Dream shoved a netherite shovel and pickaxe into Wilbur's hands and he took it, swallowing hard.

He pulled out the pickaxe first, carving through the cobblestone under the podium and hollowing out the inside. The splint around his wrist did nothing to alleviate the pain after just a few minutes, shooting daggers up his arm whenever the pickaxe made contact with stone. He left enough support beams so the whole thing wouldn't collapse under its own weight, but removed enough stone to leave room for at least half a stack of TNT.

When he came out from under the podium, Dream had dug up the entire floor around the seats and was fiddling with a redstone contraption on the crafting table. Wilbur walked over, handing back the shovel and pickaxe.

"Put these in the holes." Dream said, not even looking at Wilbur as he handed over two stacks of TNT.

Wilbur swallowed hard. His legs felt like jello as he carefully, ever so carefully, laid the first stick of explosives into a hole. Once it touched the ground he jumped back, half expecting it to explode.

It didn't, and he crept forward to lay another piece of TNT.

By the time he'd finished filling all the holes, Dream was hard at work covering them up with a stack of grass blocks and dirt. Wilbur took a stack of his own and began to help, ignoring the bile that rose in his throat whenever he had to set and prime a stick of the explosives.

They managed to finish two hours before sunrise. The entire podium and seating area looked undisturbed, but it was packed to the brim with TNT.

"How much did you end up getting?" Wilbur asked, rubbing together his hands to try and bring some feeling back into them. After hours of work, they were covered in blisters and numb from cold. The splint was covered in grime.

"Oh, around eleven and a half stacks." Dream said casually, stretching his arms over his head.

Wilbur choked.

"What, do you think we should get more?"

"No, it's fine. I think that's.... enough."

They stood for a moment more before Dream sighed, picking up his pickaxe and sliding it into his inventory.

"You should probably get going before someone sees you." He suggested.

Wilbur nodded, taking a few steps away to collect his own supplies from where he left them. When he truend, Dream was a few inches away from him, axe raised.

"Wait, I just remembered-" Dream paused gesturing at the podium with his axe.

"I have something to show you."

Dread built in Wilbur's stomach as he followed Dream around the podium and down a hallway, a sick sense of deja vu washing over him as he found himself in a stone room with a single button on one wall. Lyrics of a song long forgotten were carved into the stone, and a few extra bit of TNT were lined against the sides.

"This is the final control room." Dream grinned.

Wilbur wanted to throw up.

"Tomorrow, once Tubbo's finished his speech, you come here and press this button. If not..." Dream trailed off, raising a hand and running it through Wilbur's feathers as he walked past on his way out of the room.

"See you on the other side, Soot."

And just like that, he was gone.

[chapter title from model buses by lovejoy]