Between the Lines of Fear and Blame

Step one, you say we need to talk

He walks, you say, "Sit down, it's just a talk"

He smiles politely back at you

You stare politely right on through

Wilbur Soot joined the game.

....what?

The Monarch of this chaotic server stared at their communicator, mouth open in shock. The man they once held a blade in defence of died a while ago, on the end of his father Philza's sword. That damned curly haired brunette who had a stubborn streak like a mule and a gift with banding people together, bled out onto the clothes of a dear family member who was backed into a corner. His silver tongue could smooth any gap, before he saw his creation torn away and lost his sense.

Wilbur Soot...was back?

Their chest heaves, confusion a heavy cloud blocking rational thought beneath a golden crown weighted with the souls they gave away. That shouldn't be possible unless a certain first member of the server had a hand in that, by all accounts the First President was dead and buried. Only living on in the thoughts of all who traversed this server, both with sorrow and anger. They mourned him under many raining skies, staring into the crater where his symphony once played, now the echoes of a phantom the only continuation. At the shrine they built in attempts to save him, the Ruler feeling like they owed him something despite his choices.

Fuck, most people on here spoke his name with acid on their tongue, cursing the very soil he once walked upon like he was some disease they were glad was cured. To the Monarch, it was a bittersweet cocktail of regret and grief, an ending completed long before they could apologise.

But according to their communicator he walked this world once more, flashes of hot anger and ice-cold sadness enveloped their heart.

Without realising they were moving until just now, they come back to their body as they are walking down the Prime Path towards the spawn lands away from their museum they had begun constructing. The Ruler's long crimson cape fanned out behind them, soft white fur brushing their neck where it was clasped using an amethyst brooch. Making an assumption the curly haired brunette had appeared there, they rushed in that direction before those with more twisted feelings showed up to slay him again.

They weren't sure what they would do when their white eyes met his liquid chocolate, whether to follow through on what they feared from others or protect him like they should have. The setting sun only sped up their pace, worrying the hostile creatures of the dark would harm him before any of them could question how the fuck he came back.

Just as they are about halfway through the trip, just passing the community portal they spot the one who left a bitter taste in their mouth. Wilbur stood, tall and proud, just beside the portal glancing nervously around before meeting their eyes.

A mix of emotions flew through both of them the moment the contact was made, Eret freezing in their tracks as Wilbur took a defensive pose. Unlike the last time they saw one another, Wilbur held no shred of the insane determination that led to his death, instead a wariness for his life that had been missing for far too long prior. Before words are spoken Eret spies the lone tear tracing its way down his sharp cheekbones as Wil's eyes fixate on the gold-gilded emerald hanging from their ear and they silently hold out their hands, showing no weapons were held.

"Please don't hurt me." Wilbur sounds so scared Eret's chest clamps down, the rage dripping away upon seeing just how terrified the tall man was.