𝑼𝑵𝑭𝑰𝑵𝑰𝑺𝑯𝑬𝑫 𝑺𝒀𝑴𝑷𝑯𝑶𝑵𝒀

36

You have chosen: Choice A

Final Votes:
107 votes for Choice A
6 votes for Choice B

(home stretch, y'all...)

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You glanced over at your brother one last time.

He met your gaze with a reassuring smile, the bow falling limp at his side. You frowned, concerned.

But there was a more pressing matter at hand.

You pushed your way through the crowd, wanting to catch up to Wilbur before he could escape your sight.

As you turned away from your brother, his smile fell. He reached into his satchel, hand wrapping around a disembodied Wither skull.

═══ *.·:·.☽✧    ✦    ✧☾.·:·.* ═══

Wilbur slipped behind the hill that the podium had been built on. You followed from a distance.

You heard dirt being shoveled out of place, and you leaned forward to catch a glimpse of what he was doing.

Wilbur shoveled a doorway of dirt out of the hill, revealing a pre-made hallway.

He slipped into the hall, not bothering to replace the hidden doorway. He assumed he hadn't been followed.

You waited for a moment before following him in. Light filtered into the long hallway from a small room at the end.

Upon entering the room, you gasped, horrified.

Wilbur was sitting in a lone wooden chair in the middle of the room, elbows resting on his knees, chin tucked on top of his folded hands. He stared at the wall in front of him, where a button sat.

The walls were covered in crazed markings and words, which you recognized as the anthem Wilbur had written after winning the very first war of L'Manburg.

Sticks of dynamite were spread erratically throughout the room: laying flat on the floor, leaning against the wall, or grouped together.

Wilbur knew you were there. But he didn't acknowledge you.

There was silence for a few moments, then Wilbur began to hum. You recognized the tune: it was the tune to the words scribbled among the walls of the room.

You stood in the doorway silently, waiting to see if Wilbur would acknowledge your existence. He had to know you were there...right?

"My L'ma-a-a-an...burg..." He finished, his voice cracking slightly on the last note of the now-mournful song. Wilbur sucked in a long breath, craning his head back to stare up at the cieling.

"Surely you remember that song, right (Y/N)?" He asked, "I've scribbled it on the walls...how can one forget it?"

"Of course I remember it, Will," You responded softly, willing your voice not to betray your emotions. To your relief, your voice never once wavered.

Wilbur nodded, standing and clasping his hands behind his back. He had yet to face you. "There was a special place, (Y/N)...where men could go and emancipate..." He trailed off, looking down at the floor, "And there definitely was that special place. It existed, once...it did, it did."

Why did he keep repeating himself? 

"But..." Wilbur chuckled humorlessly, running his hands through his hair. His gray beanie was discarded unceremoniously on the stone floor beside the chair, "Even with Tubbo in charge, I don't think that place can exist again...I don't think it can exist again." Wilbur fell silent, staring forward at the wall in front of him.