Look me in the Eyes

Your world, not Ours

I must have fallen asleep before Quinn returned, for he was once more in the kitchen by the time I realized I was waking up. Rolburn still lay beside me, one hand resting on my chest. His quiet snores created a rhythm in the otherwise still room that I found comforting.

Cautiously, I tried moving again. Hopefully I was healed enough that we could leave this place and escape somewhere away from Players. If there was such a location. I lifted my arm and instantly a deep ache throbbed in my bones. The skin was still raw in places, too and as I grew more aware of it I noticed more pangs flaring up all over my body. I could sit up, as I found, but it cost me a groan that nearly woke my friend. Not yet. Not even close yet. The bitter realization burned behind my eyes almost worse than the pain in my body.

At least we had made it thus far without harm. I lay in the bed, staring at the ceiling, remembering that Player...Quinn...assuring me that he would not betray us. That he would save us should we be in trouble....Could he have spoken the truth? Rolburn seemed to think he had. Then again, my Piglin friend might not realize something was wrong if he was told the lake was made fire instead of water.

I turned my head, looking at Rolburn, who lay beside me all curled up, his hands half-closed and eye shut. I wanted to reach over and pat him, but the mere attempt had me clenching my teeth to keep from crying out. Was I worse than I'd been yesterday? I was sure I'd been able to at least move then, but maybe my body had grown stiff since then. I had no idea.

Lying still, I retreated into my mind to keep myself from boredom until Rolburn awoke. I could hear Quinn moving about the house, opening and shutting chests and doors, dragging something heavy about and muttering to himself. But I never made out his words, only his low tone made it to my ears.

Quinn. What would the Ender Dragon say if she could see him? If she knew I'd been saved by him? Or that I'd tried to kill him? I found myself trying to picture her, to remember her massive size, the warmth of her breath, the glittering purple of her scales and the deepness of her eyes. What would she say?

I had no answers to these inquiries, but I pursued them anyway, round and round in my head until I felt Rolburn stir beside me. He sat up, rubbing his face delicately. He sat still for a few minutes, saying nothing and staring at the far wall. I tried raising one hand to touch his back and at least it didn't hurt that terribly. "Rolburn?" The ache in my throat was still there, but less noticeable.

With a sniff and a sleepy noise, the Piglin turned back around to me and lay down on his stomach. "Morning, Trex."

Gritting my teeth so as to not make a sound, I carefully turned myself over on my side so I could pet him more comfortably. The bandages still brushed across what seemed like open skin. I closed my eyes and waited for the trembling and stinging to pass. "Rolburn, I want to ask you something." One of his ears flicked upwards in acknowledgement. I resumed. "While I was...during the past weeks, did Quinn do anything to you? Did anyone else come over?"

A little frown creased the Piglin's forehead. "You know the answer to that already, don't you? He already told you. See?" He sat up, holding out his hands to me. "No bacon."

The mere mention of that word in relation to my friend made my stomach sick. I reached out and took his hand. "No, I mean...Rolburn, I don't trust him. The Player. I don't trust his kind."

Rolburn humphed. "Then you don't trust me. I didn't call him a liar, did I?" He put his other hand on top of mine. "You're safe, Trex. You're safe and I'm safe and nothing bad's going to happen to us here."

I studied Rolburn's expression, the frank gaze of his still-brown eye. "I trust you." I told him. "I just know Players can lie. And I...I don't think he likes me very much, or has any reason to keep either of us alive beyond you having helped him. And honestly, Rolburn, that's not always enough of a reason." I hoped he was understanding my words. The longer we stayed here, the more memories came back to me: the first Player I ever saw, cutting down two of my people, stealing their eyes for her own devices, Rolburn the first time I met him, his body slowly succumbing to a decay he would never be free from, all because some Player had decided he was their toy to be discarded when they were through with him. I'd seen Players, fully armored, with weapons drawn, specifically target Endermen and slaughter them, picking their eyes out of the wet, bloody corpses. Even the simple-minded villagers were not spared, forced into shacks or mere squares of space, selling their wares and their souls for what pittance the Players would give in return. Never again. Not with us. Not with my friend.