Awakened

Inherent Balance

He needed to know. He had to. He had wings. The words of the Wither hadn't given him a moment's peace ever since he first glimpsed the new limbs hanging off his back. More a part of him than Broomie ever was. They were made of flesh, melded seamlessly with sculk into a cohesive whole. They had fur. Only his body had fur. The sculk didn't have fur.

He could feel bones, joints flexing within the flesh, muscle fibers aching with overuse.. not just a facsimile made of sculk.
But he knew, Ink knew it wasn't possible for it to be him. Because he knew what he was before. He knew what piglins were. It was in the name.
He came from pigs. They had four legs and no wings.
He had to know. Needed to know.

So he dived for that thankfully wide tunnel in the rock, wings flaring to slow down- too much, he was stumbling on the ground. Fine. They were straining anyway. They could rest for a bit as he walked.
Briskly. He never liked being slow.

His hooves echoed sharply on the carved stone, Broomie automatically lashing now that it wasn't restrained to stillness by flight. Presence of a dragon. The words continued to repeat in his head, the vagueness still screaming at him with half-baked possibilities.

Something gripped his shoulder and Ink shrieked in surprise, tense as a coiled spring as he recognized Fresh wincing at the volume of his cry, still echoing up and down the tunnel.
“I- you startled me!”

The wither dragged a hand down his face with a slight grinding sound before fixing his cap.
“What are you doing?” Fresh asked.
Ink paused, looking ahead uncertainly.
But.. Fresh could fly too.
He grabbed the arm already gripping him.
“Come with me.”

“Answer the question, broski. Ya left everyone back dere.” Fresh asserted, though the sudden request seemed to catch him off guard a little. Ink looked back and forth for a moment before he figured out what to say.
“..You know that tunnel I mentioned?”

Fresh stared as he tried to remember, then abruptly took a step back, sockets wide.
“Why’re you going back?”
“I just- we had a talk, okay? We didn't even talk about much, I told them about Nightmare, they said he was still alive somehow, told me I should help you guys find him somehow- I don't know how to find any final strongholds! ..” He stared at the wall, Fresh silent.
“...They said I had the presence of a dragon.” He finally admitted weakly, daring to look back.

Fresh’s eyelights were absent, leaving dark sockets behind, but it didn't seem to be out of anger. If anything, there seemed to be a tinge of fear mixed in with all that shock.
“And I suddenly have wings.” Ink went on. “I just. I need to know what they meant by that. I thought it was somehow an energy thing they were talking about, but what if they meant something else?? I just. I don't know. And I hate not knowing.”

There were a few seconds of silence before he decided to start forward again, jolting Fresh into walking after him- not something he did very often. Then again, Ink's short stature made it easy for his long strides to keep up.
“Are you sure about actually finding Him?”

Ink gestured vaguely around him. “They left an open invitation, as far as I'm concerned. Massive tunnel leading straight to them, right outside the bastion and portals.”
“If you're sure.” Fresh stated, oddly nervous. He didn't really sound like himself without all the slang.
“I have questions that need answering, Fresh.” Ink deadpanned while moving faster, staring at the exit.
“And they seem to like me enough.”

“You're sure ‘bout that?”
“Well they literally called me interesting while smiling, so I think so.”
“Broski that might not’ve been a smile. We're not nice folk.”
Ink gave him a look. “The Remnant is.”
Fresh was still visibly indecisive when they reached the tunnel edge, Ink half spreading his wings as he debated how to take off from the ground.