Solivagency - Empires SMP

II

Xornoth woke up poised in an audible scream, hands clawing at their throat-

Someone was suddenly rapidly shaking their shoulder, saying something too quickly for them to hear. They flinched and sunk into whatever they were wrapped in, blinking back watery remains of half formed nightmares.

Eventually, whoever was trying to comfort them moved away. Xornoth clenched their eyes shut to stop the tears from spilling out. They couldn't be weak, not here. But it didn't stop them from gasping for air, sucking in a deep breath to try and stabilise themself.

"Hey..." The person's hand rested on their shoulder. "Everything alright?"

"No- no- I'll be good I promise-" Xornoth stuttered as their hand grazed their skin.

"Hey, hey, calm down, alright? You're not... Um... Wherever that thingy happened was. You're in Mezalea. The Mezalean Matral Palace, remember?"

Xornoth's breath dipped. Surely they couldn't be in Mezalea, could they? They were ninety per cent certain what had happened was a dream, some strange product of a fevered mind.

"...Xornoth? Are you okay?" That hand, that gloved hand, it had to be Joel's. That... That day had been real, wasn't it? And there was no denying his voice. And... And the shackles were off too.

Their cheeks burned up in shame and they nodded, determined not to let anyone see their internal panic. It was probably useless; surely one glimpse at their face would show the cracks in their resolve.

Exor's cruel tone was faintly amuses. How pathetic.

They heard his feet hit the floorboards - at least, they guessed they were floorboards - and the sound of water filling a glass spilled through the troubled silence of the room.

"Do you want some water?" Joel asked, voice becoming clearer.

Hesitantly, Xornoth untangled themself from the blanket and opened their eyes. They were in a very beautiful room with colourful patterned wallpaper, a huge bouquet of flowers perched on a large window with a magnificent view, a fluffy, snow-white carpet spread along a spruce floor. The bed was enormous, much bigger than what they needed, and there were various bits and bobs dotted around. A bookcase of Mythic play scripts. A grandfather clock. A small display of seashells.

What caught their eye most of all was the beautiful cup, probably handcrafted by Pixandrian glass blowers, filled with crisp, clear water in Joel's hand. Xornoth stared at it, before realising what they were doing and turning away with an embarrassed flush. They didn't deserve water, right?

Joel huffed at their quietness and slapped the cup into their hand, only just managing to stop the water flopping out. "It's water, not netherite."

Xornoth turned back to the glass, hands gripping the cup so tightly they were afraid it might break. Their grip slackened at the thought of cracking such a lovely object. Very, very carefully, they took a sip, tense as a bowstring.

They pulled away with a dry cough as the water filled their throat. When had been the last time they had drunk something that didn't taste bland and coppery?

(Apart from seawater-?)

Better savour that water. Who knows if it will be your last?

Joel awkwardly patted their shoulder. Xornoth stilled at the contact, expecting some kind of pain, but... he seemed sincere? He didn't seem like he wanted to hurt them. He seemed like he actually cared.

(It had been a long time since anyone cared. Not since Joey-)

Silence filled the room.

"What are you going to do with me?" Xornoth whispered hoarsely, eyes half-closed as the cup was brought near to their lips, but not quite.