Home - Wilbur soot angst

Part 23

The elf flickered his ears back and forth, quite uncomfortable with the situation befalling him. Tied to a tree with an absurd amount of rope. His hands were already bound together, quite well might he had. The elder had been the one to do it. It reminded him of more of Ranboo's craftier works from those oh so dreaded survival lessons his father would give in the rather hot summer afternoons together. Even from when they were much younger. He hoped that the strain on them wouldn't leave any marks.

It would only raise further suspicion as to where he was. And with his plans, he didn't need any of that.

When going on his self proclaimed solo mission, Dream didn't expect the treatment he was being given. Granted, he didn't expect any royal grandiose gestures of welcomeness or friendship. They were absolute strangers with but one strand of familiarity amongst one another, that one wavering strand being Wil. But the second he had made himself apparent, he was tackled to the ground in a flash of pink and red, fully eating the dirt below him as he 'apprehended' by the very people he went to find.

Now, two sets of eyes stared back at him. Watching with contempt, swirls of other emotions he couldn't even begin to decipher. They both looked like the whispers of hypnos were calling them, lulling them away into the land of slumber. They looked like they needed it. Badly . Maybe that was the case. It had been a while since Wil had moved into Nirvana with them. Some days it felt like he was always there, among them from the very beginning. But Dream new better. That perhaps, for as long as he had found Wil, maybe even longer, they had been searching. Trekking through what had to have been miles and miles of both land and sea. All for their missing family member. In a way, the sentiment would have touched him were it not for the fact that Wil had expressed numerous times his worries, sorrows, regrets, and the overall wave of anxiety that would overcome him when discussing his family.

It was a genuine concern to have with knowing the history of his siblings. Each had their own tale to tell about how they ended up in Nirvana. It was their safe haven from what once was a living nightmare from each of them. None of them enjoyed talking about it or even acknowledging it, reasonably.

Sapnap hailed from the nether. It was his home for a short amount of years before that stopped being so. One day, he recalled, he was ripped away from the boiling temperatures and thrusted into the cold cells of a tundra based village. Hunters had been making their rounds on the city they lived in. Populations had been rising too high and at the chance of their own lives being spared, his own family sold him out. Sapnap would speak of the way he watched his family before being dragged and chained away. The way they looked at him with reserved contempt. He never did mention the way he screamed and pleaded to stay, but that was for Dream to find out on his own. Overwatching his brother as he slept, sweat plaguing his forehead as he writhed in his nightmares.

Or Tubbo's family. The youngling told stories of his older brother, way older. These small facts would come up at random, now more so that he could properly remember and process them. This brother was old enough to be his birth father even. His eyes were either as red as rubies or as black as coal. No inbetween. How he would scream at the top of his lungs, laugh and howl like a devil had possessed him. Most stories would revolve back to the crate; he claimed that it was his "bed". "It was quite cozy after a while, if you ignored the neck creaks. But I prefer my bed right now so much more", he'd say. And How one day he fell asleep in a cold, dark room on one October evening, listening to the rambles of his brother outside the door. Only to wake up one morning with cloudy skies overhead and rain drops pelting him as his crate was found on the side of the road.

Perhaps even Georgei's old home. None of what he had could come even close to a family. His mother and father used him day and night as their personal little test dummy for potions, spells, you name it. The thought enraged him, as he could only recall the various bumps and bruises George had been brought home with. All of the other kids could only watch in silence as Hayden came home that day, holding his brother in his arms. They worried so much over someone they had barely just met. His arms and legs.. He wouldn't doubt it was worse than what happened to his face. The two spent hours in Hayden's room, the elder healing the young sorcerer as best as he could without expending the poor boy's energy. Years later Hayden finally told him of that day. How George's parents tried to fight him for the young boy. Their screams not of "we love him! Give us back our boy!" but of "You need to pay for the little ... you need to pay for the little shit before you can have him! We have prices for a reason." His father said taking George and fighting those bastards was worth every wound he came home with.