The Tale of the Last Shifter // Tommyinnit

See them fly

Tubbo walked down the mountain, hands holding onto small trees that surrounded him do he wouldn't fall. He was focused on what he was doing, paying little Attention to his surrounding, which wasn't the most brilliant choice. But at this time, he did not care if he was going to trip and fall down that mountain. He could break all his bones for all he cared, as long as he knew Tommy was safe.
After parting his ways with the other guys, he went in the different direction. Now where they left Tommy, because he was sure the smoke was too thick to fully breath and the fire would still be present. Instead, he took his time to go around and approach from the behind. And knowing Tommy, he wouldn't spend too much time in the area of his destruction.
That was another thing that made Tommy unique. While some of the other dragon hybrids loved to chaos havock and then cherish the hell they made, Tommy hated the idea of it. Sure, he liked to chaos havock and destroy things from time to time, but not to the point where he would admire whatever he did for hours.
And Tubbo knew why.

Because the day it happened, there were loud explosions. Everything was burning, craters that were created unnaturally. The fire was spreading quickly that day and it did leave a bad memory in their heads. Because as much as Tubbo hated to admit it, the scar that he got that day often reminded him of it. Of their escape. It would burn, never letting him forget about it's existence for too long.
Tubbo often acted though, showing no fear or pain. But if you looked closer, you would be able to notice the little shell that was slowly cracking. Tommy knew, of course he did. He himself carried multiple scars from that day. And maybe they didn't hurt, especially when he spend most of the time in his dragon form, where the scales protected him from any damage or pain. But they were still there, still visible.

For Tommy, they meant strength. He called them his war scars, something that made him stronger and more intimidating. He would gladly show them off if someone asked, because they were his. Each if them had a different story and meaning. But each was a little trophy that made Tommy feel better. Because he survived and he was alive.
For Tubbo, they weren't always making him feel stronger. More like pathetic, because he received them. If he was string then he wouldn't have them. If he was strong enough he would fight and come out unharmed. He wasn't too certain about them, but not insecure too. Because whenever he felt that way, Tommy was there to cheer him up. He would tell all kind of things about his scar that would built up his courage. Tommy told him how badass he looked, how cool it was to have a scar that you could share stories about. And he was grateful for everything. But that didn't mean he wouldn't sit and stare at them for no reason at all. Sometimes with disgust, nothing at all or just to remember.
But they never wished for them to disappear. No matter what, they were a part of them. Part of their life, memory and history.

And so when he walked further down, he couldn't help but pray that Tommy was okay. That he was safe and sound. Tubbo never doubted his best friend, because he knew how much pawer he carried. Just like Tommy never doubted him.
But feeling worried about his friend was normal, right? His only family..
He wasn't going to give up, not when Tommy never gave up on him. They were supposed to be always together.
And despite being deep in thoughts, the sound of breaking sticks didn't go unnoticed. He stopped suddenly, trying to pick up more sounds or whatever it was.

"Tommy?" He asked, his voice being carried with wind.

And no one answered him. For a long time, he didn't hear anything but the sound of leaves rustling and wind calmly swaying the trees. And when he was about to move, heavy footsteps echoed through the forest. He turned around to see if he could find anything, but to no anvil. Something made him feel uneasy, so he lowered himself to the ground and hid behind an old tree that made a great hideout for him. As the sound became louder, he came to a realization that it wasn't only one person. It seemed like a whole army of people running in his direction, wearing heavy gear and wielding a sword made to slaughtering Withers. And Tubbo trembled, not knowing if he should run or stay where he was. He took a peak from behind the tree that hid him, eyes scanning the nearest area carefully. And as he looked further, he could see something running. It took him a moment to focus his eyes completely on the approaching figure.