How Did We Get Here?

XIII. Death

Summary

Scar's not very good at listening

Still in the apartment. Other Scar sits at the head of his dining table, the blueprint spread in front of him. Cub sits in a nearby chair, flicking around a cat toy. Other Jellie and two other cats meow and try to catch the toy's feathers. ("Did I do that once..." Scar doesn't think Jellie knows he heard her words.) A man with tri-colored bird wings leans against the kitchen countertop as a kettle heats up nearby and something sizzles in a pan. It smells very good, and oddly familiar.

"You're going to get carpal tunnel," Cub remarks suddenly. "Or something close to it."

Bird Boy nods along, "Yeah, Scar, that's a lot of scribbling. Once, I hand-wrote an essay in ten minutes, I could barely use my hands for a week."

"Was it a good essay?"

"No."

Other Scar briefly looks up from his work, "Guys, I need to focus."

"Dinner is almost done, why not just stop now?" Bird Boy flicks his wings, like a cat would their tail.

"If I had a concrete idea, I would. But I have a week left and my boss is counting on me."

"But you said yourself that you're not good at sculptures. Why didn't you ask for another job?"

"I didn't want to let my boss down."

"This doesn't sound good, Scar," Cub was still playing with the cats. "The past year or two, you've been more and more stressed with work. Maybe you should quit."

"I'm not quitting and I need to finish this sculpture."

Bird Boy looked behind him and grabbed a spatula, "Dinner's ready, put the blueprint away." Other Scar didn't listen and kept working on the design. To his credit, it looked more finished than it did the last time. "Scar." There was no reaction.

With a look from Bird Boy, Cub put the cat toy down and reached for the blueprint, "C'mon, Scar." He had just grabbed the paper when Other Scar's head snapped up. Tiny daggers formed around Cub's hand as Other Scar's eyes burned blue. "You wouldn't."

"Do you want to test me?" His voice was ice-cold. It seemed that he would plunge the daggers into Cub's hands if needed.

"Scar!" Bird Boy called out, flapping his wings in an annoyed manner. "Stop that right now and put the blueprint away or you'll get no stir-fry. And you know I'll enforce that."

This seemed to get Other Scar. He huffed and dispelled the magic before rolling the blueprint up. Bird Boy nodded and smiled, turning back around to grab the pan and a trivet. The lovely smell of food disappeared with the people (and animals) as they were replaced with a card on the table. From the perspective of where Other Scar was sitting, it was upside down.

It showed what could've happened. A hand, presumably Cub's, was seized up with pain as many blue mini-daggers sunk into it. Other Scar's blueprint sat behind this sad sight. XIII, Death.

"I hope 'death' will make more of a metaphorical sense later..." Jellie was on Scar's shoulder again.

"I hope that food was good," Scar muttered to no one in particular and reached out, in the way he's used to by this point.

(OG post date - 6/2/23)