Pandemonium | Dream SMP

57. Nice to meet you.

I swing once with my trident, spinning with the momentum, and come around with a final, sharp jab to the gut.

If I had been fighting a real enemy, their innards would have spilled out by now. But I'm not. I'm fighting a tree. A very sturdy, unimpressed tree.

What am I doing? I'm a defender, not a killer. I don't even want to gut my enemies!

I groan and push a hand up through my hair, brushing away the loose strands of blonde. My forehead is slick with sweat, as is the rest of my body.

It's been only three days since Schlatt lost his temper.

And four days since I shared a kiss with Dream.

My hand tightens in my hair, pulling at my scalp.

Nope. Not thinking about that. That was a reckless mistake and you know it. Think of Fundy! Think of Fundy!

Those warm eyes. That soft fur. His wagging tail...

I smile and sigh, retracting my hand from my now ruined braid.

I don't know when it started, but thinking of Fundy settles my heart. It relaxes me, like I'm sinking into a warm, bubbly bath. The complete opposite of how I feel when I think of Dream. With him it's like I'm walking on a bed of needles, one wrong move and I could prick myself. But at the same time I can't help but love the adrenaline rush. Of finding that one, sharp needle. It's irrational, impulsive, and a part of me that I just can't seem to lock away.

I suppose I have my dad to thank for that. Every bad habit I ever picked up was because of him.

My shoulders have started to ache from practising swinging my trident and I take a seat in the grass, catching my breath. All I've been doing these past few days is practising, determined to regain my lost skills. Schlatt may have said some harsh things in his drunken rage, but he was right about one thing. I have grown soft. Soft and slow. I've become too reliant on others. I need to remind myself of why I fight, and who for.

There's a crack of a branch and I spin, rising to a knee as I hurl my trident like a javelin through the bordering trees.

It's a seamless throw. My training hasn't been for nothing.

But instead of hearing it thump into the trunk of a tree, where I'd been aiming in hopes of scaring off the intruder, I hear a clang of metal.

They deflected? I wonder with furrowed brows, standing straight. My blue eyes continue to stare into the undergrowth, waiting for any more movement. Who is it trying to trespass into Manburg territory now?

When I see and hear nothing I raise a hand to recall my trident.

It takes a moment, but the iridescent weapon eventually zips back to my grip.

Standing as tall as I can with my aching muscles, I glare at the unseen enemy. "I know you're there. Either show yourself or leave. You're trespassing on Manburg soil." I call out stoically.

Seconds pass until I hear another crunch, and a figure ducks into view, pushing away a branch.

A pair of piercing red eyes flash from beneath a green fringe as the stranger walks calmly up to me. He's tall and broad-shouldered, gold armour lining his torso over black underclothes. A black gas mask hides the lower half of his face, a mouth like a creeper painted over the material. In one hand he clutches a trident, identical to my own, of which he leans on once he comes to a stop.

"Nice throw," he comments, referring to my earlier attack, "I thought I was the only one around here who used a trident."

"I'm sorry but, who are you?" I question, unable to hide my unease as I inspect the male. Even though this man's words are cool and nonchalant, everything about him screams danger. Especially his eyes. From this close I can see that his eye whites aren't white at all, but a deep black. The red of his iris' seeming to glow against the darkness. Or maybe they really are glowing? He's clearly not human. No human has eyes like those. His ears are pointed, too. And his creeper mask is really putting me on edge.

I hate creepers.

He cocks his head, his fringe falling to the side.

"Oh, right. Introductions." He holds out a hand. "My name is Sam."

I stare down at his hand. Each finger ends in a black, pointed nail.

"Ares..." I respond cautiously, taking the hand with hesitancy.

To my surprise, he shakes my hand warmly, his grip light and careful so as not to prick my skin with his nails.

"Nice to meet you," he says, his eyes crinkling in a smile. "Are you a new member of L'Manburg? I'm not very well caught up on recent affairs. I've just come back from a four-month trip. This place had only just become a country when I left."

"Were you a resident of L'Manburg?" I question slowly, his hand falling from mine. If his answer is yes, then this conversation is about to get awkward, and depending on his personality, possibly dangerous.

"No, no. Not me. I'm not technically a resident of anywhere. But I'm an old friend of Dream so he lets me hang around." He runs a hand through his hair and pauses. "What do you mean by 'were'?"

Wow, this guy really does know nothing. He must have literally just got back.

"Manburg is now ruled over by President J Schlatt." I explain, "have you heard of him?"

"Schlatt you say? Hmm," Sam rubs the base of his mask, his eyes flicking up to the sky. "I think the name is familiar, but that's about it. You know, I thought I heard you say Manburg earlier but figured I'd just misheard. Did he rename the country?"

"Yes."

"Huh, okay."

"You don't sound particularly bothered by this?" I question.

Sam shrugs. "Like I said, I'm not really a part of anywhere. I didn't take sides when Dream and Wilbur went to war. It's none of my business what your new president does with the place. He is your President, right? I'm still going on the assumption that you live here?"

"Yes, I do. I'm the Secretary of Defence."

"Oh, nice. So you're part of the cabinet, then? That's a pretty big role. You must have done something right to get chosen."

I blink, flattered by the praise.

That is praise, right? I'm not sensing any sarcasm from him.

"You seem pretty capable yourself," I smile, finally relaxing my posture. I've decided I like Sam. He looks scary on the outside, but so far he's proven to be a pretty decent guy. And a neutral, at that.

"Why thank you." His eyes crinkle at the corners as he smiles widely beneath the mask. Something green flicks out behind his torso that I realise to be a long tail, tufted at the end.

"Well, it was nice meeting you, Ares. But I should get going. There are still a few people I want to chat with before the day is over." Sam says, lifting his trident and propping it across his shoulders in a relaxed manner. "Ah, if you don't mind, that is? Or do you plan on taking me prisoner for trespassing?"

I give a light laugh.

Gosh, it's been ages since I laughed.

"No, you're free to go. There would be no sense in making an enemy of a neutral."

"Good answer," he muses. "Then as a neutral, maybe we could spar some time? I've never fought someone with a trident before."

"That sounds fun." I agree. "But be warned, I've been wielding this thing since I was fifteen."

"I look forward to it, then." He smirks, and gives a wave of his hand before turning and wandering back into the trees, tail flicking.

I think I just made a friend?