Quackity pov
It has been about an hour since I left the prison for Dream’s daily reminders of pain. Normally I would be back at las nevada by now but on this night i've found myself distracted. I stood at the edge of L’manburg’s crater, it seemed so long ago since Dream. Technoblade and Philza brought the beloved country to an end. Most of the people of the smp have chosen to try and forget L’manburg, to cover up the pain it caused or you were just not around when the country was blown away and the mention of its name causes you no sorrow. Tommy would bring up its name more often then the others, I can't blame him, L’manburg was his home, he fought the hardest for it. But Tommy at least still had other things to talk about, he may have cared dearly for the country but he understood it was left in the past. Then its name was once again mentioned often again, who was bringing up the hard topic? It was no one other than the famous Wilbur Soot, the founder of L’manburg, who fought long and hard for L’manburg with his right hand man Tommy. The man who lost his country to an election and has exiled from his own country. Only to rebel against it and slowly turn insane while his right hand man watched him welt away into madness. Then blowing up the country he made from dirt, to prove a point and then slane by his own father. L’manburg lived on for a short time with a brand new president. Wilbur left behind many things, one of them being a beloved ghost that the smp called Ghostbur. Ghostbur had only the happy memories of Wilbur so Ghostbur lacked his madness.
I may have been partially responsible for Wil's madness during the election days, but I was centrally NOT responsible for his resurrection. He was dead for 13 years and he had to come back just when my brand new country was just starting to succeed. He just had to come back from hell and show up with Tommy. He was a recipe for destruction. If I didn't want Las Nevadas to end up like the crater I was standing in front of, then Wilbur isn't coming anywhere near my country. The man hasn't changed since those 13 years ago, other than being annoyingly more flirty, which if he was going to change why would it have to be that.
I looked up at the sky, it was getting dark. I should head back before slime begins to worry. I turned around, my back facing the crater and started walking in the direction of Las Nevadas.
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I was in the forest between Las Nevadas and that shack that Wilbur and Tommy built right across from my nation. I find it absolutely hilarious that the SECOND Wilbur returns from hell Tommy DRAGS him over to me.
I couldn't see the sky because of how thick the forest canopy was, but it was getting darker. I walked with my head looking at my feet, making sure i dont trip on anything. I was basically speed walking to get home, and wasn't looking for where I was going. Then as if It came from nowhere, I haluted to a stop when I bumped into something soft.
I tripped back slightly and swung my head upwards to see what I bumped into.
“Fuck…” I cursed under my breath as I realized what I bumped into, or who I bumped into as if Satan heard my complaints against the undead man. His brown and gray messy hair lightly covered his crimson red eyes, although I could still see his thin pupils staring at me. He had a wide smirk across his face which I dreaded. His pale hands were in his pockets of the large brown trench coat that draped over that blood-stained yellow sweater with poorly done stitching over the large cut that his father gave him when he died. He was significantly taller than me which I hated to admit but it always scratched my ego seeing how much he towered over me.
3rd person pov
“Quackity.” Wilburs grin seemed to only widen more as he locked eyes with the shorter friend.
“Wilbur.” Quackity winced at his name that left a bitter taste in his mouth.
The english boy closed his mouth, keeping that giant smirk and walts around the small mexican in circles.
