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KEY
∝╬══→ tw: obsessive behavior, mentions of death.
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LOCATION THE DREAM SMP.
THE NIGHTTIME FURTHER BEAT ITSELFinto the environment, hailing the stars above your head like little jewels from handmade crowns. you sighed quietly, walking alone on the trail lit by torches every so increment of the way. your feet casually shuffled against forest grounds, taking on a slow pace as you were helplessly undisturbed.
it was the first time you've trekked the forest at night in months and there seemed to be no mobs or breeze, letting yourself calm down in the cool summer air. it was peaceful, a sensation you've always craved. there was a type of beauty within treading another world, clambering about it and calling it home. it felt like being a travel bum and witnessing breathtaking sites [these references are rlly gonna knock me out], except you were stuck in one spot practically forever. well you weren't stuck but that's what it felt like. you were stuck in a good way, glued to the dream smp because of your friends.
in clamor and war, the only things left you have beside yourself is the ground beneath your feet and the people who lived another day. even if the people were gone, the only person was you. you in the middle of all these cubes and unpredictable worlds. so you were staying because of the people left. the people that kept you strong. then again, there's the people you don't like right? "oh y/n!" you heard a voice call out softly from behind you, making a shiver immediately shoot down your spine. that sugary tone is always recognizable. and it seems to follow you everywhere.
you took a deep breath in and turned around, being met with the one and only revivebur—the one who dueled with the split of wilbur's soul. it obviously wasn't his fault that he came about after wilbur's death and resurrection but still his intentions and behavior was screwed up according to both quackity of las nevadas, niki, and technoblade themselves. "it's so lovely to see you here." wilbur went on with gentleness, stepping towards you slowly. his features became more prominent under the pale moonlight. he stared at you with such dark eyes that blended with the obscured eeriness but held the softest of mesmerized gazes. you didn't know why but it was always wilbur's eyes that was able to entice you the most. they held portraits of memory upon memory and character upon person that was so readable but barely distinguishable. it was a trap.. a soft one though—a bird cage with a comforter, or a melting renaissance painting.
the nostalgia seemed to loom onto you, latching on your brain as you were in an enamored state. wilbur took your stiffness and sudden freezing-in-place as a sign to step in. he gently guided his hand within yours and his other around your waist, helping you slip into a ballroom-esque dancing posture while he directed both of your feet to be in synchrony, going back and forth and twirling around in a waltz. meanwhile, you were stuck in your head, locking eyes with wilbur in a trance. everything reminded you of the wilbur back in the smp—his warmth, his smile, his droopy hair, his generosity towards you, and even his voicemails that he sent you and didn't stop sending when you went missing.
