Big Book Of Sjips One Shots

Alone Again (S)

TW: Druidz, Oberon, Twilight Forest, slight angst (Remember that Sips got kidnapped back in Dirt Quest)

Sips gazed out of the fragile glass of his house's window, looking up to the stars. The Twilight Forest, a fitting name for the endless time period that stretched over the landscape. Trapped here... Oberon's idea of imprisonment was more of Purgatory than it was of Hellish torture. Sips knew how to survive, and he had done it many times before. He had mostly been with Sjin during those times, however...

Occasionally, Oberon would take a glance at Sips' doings, probably to make sure he wasn't planning some great escape. A devious spell he'd conceived prevented Sips from even nearing a portal to the real world. He was well and truly trapped, in a forest, of all places. It wasn't a classical trap, a trap in the sense of the word. It had no bars, no walls. No fencing or wire bit at Sips from his home. The dimension was whimsical, but yet, still a dimension. An entire world of forest and the strange dusk-dawn sky. It was his to explore... but with what incentive to? He had settled apathetically under the shade of one of the greater, taller trees. The world was full of unfamiliar plants and animals, those of which Sips didn't know the names of. It frightened him, in the smallest sense, that there was an infinity of things he would never know, or understand. Many of those things, he would never come into contact with during his lifespan. Especially if he was stuck here, in this overgrown, bizarre land. It contradicted every feeling he found from home, from Earth. The sky - an off-putting periwinkle, and the earth, an unsettling shade of cyan.

His house, a small cabin of wood, bricks, and stone, was shaded by the canopy above, and heated inside by scrap wood. Oberon truly had cursed the man, so that it he attempted to fashion an axe, the iron burned his skin, and every cut made into wood cut him, as well. Despising every second of house-building, Sips was quick to find a sheep ("to shear, not slaughter," in the words of Oberon) and create a bed to sleep in.

Sometimes, Oberon brought fair news. He didn't tell much of the outside world, except that it was more forest than factory at this point, which he seemed pleased about. He always muttered something about fighting off someone's Mother, giving a bitter, displeased expression, as if he had swallowed a lemon.
Sips found it patronizing and wanted to swing his fists into Oberon's jaw, but fought those feelings down successfully. He'd seen what Oberon had done to him, and to the land... he was a powerful force, not directly of the Twilight Forest, or of the regular world. He took the appearance of a youthful man, upbeat and cheerful, but did look after the worlds with a firm hold on their balance. Sips had disrupted that balance, apparently, and that was the exact reason he was here.

Oberon thought it customary for Sips to treat him as a guest in his home, and Sips abided. He didn't need to be turned into a pile of mulch.
Oberon rattled on about events in the Twilight Forest, complaining mostly about visitors. It wasn't... always bad, Sips could say. It was difficult to describe how he felt about the information. Oberon never bothered to explain anything he said, using Sips as a vent for feelings, maybe.

Sips didn't understand when he mentioned Sjin.
It was ridiculous, mind-twisting, and nauseating to find that Sjin had sided with Oberon. For what cause? For what purpose?! He was here... and Sjin was there. Back in the real world. Did he even know where Sips had gone? Did Oberon even tell him?
It was cold at night, without Sjin next to him. Sips found himself waking more than usual, to strange sounds outside of his cabin, and to the sudden worry and panic brought by nightmares. The feeling of falling, falling...

Sips knew how resourceful Sjin was, however. He had watched him... heard the brilliant schemes Sjin had thought of in wartimes. He had heard the gears clicking inside of his head, observed his decisive and sly eyes as he planned moves, as if playing a board game. It was beautiful how Sjin did battle. A feat of wit, cleverly disguised by innocence and a glamour of benevolence. He had always protected him... Sips had been one of his utmost priorities. Was it still that way, Sips wondered.

Oberon referred to Sjin as his Druid, his soldier, his follower. Sips had to bite his cheek from shouting, laughing, or crying. Maybe all of the three.
Sjin didn't follow. He never followed. He allied, siphoned as much valuable objects as he wanted, then slinked away, covering his tracks with dust and twisting the truth around until it was no longer recognizable. Sjin fought for himself, and his loved ones. Loved One. Sjin had called him that on occasion...
Sjin was planning something, Sips knew. He was using, borrowing. Sjin knew exactly what he was doing. How long it would take, Sips didn't exactly know. But before he would die, he would be out of this twilight prison.

As for the moment? Sips was cold, lying awake in bed. The crisp, always rich air of the forest stirred his mind in circles, incorporating its whimsy and effects. Sips was alone. Being alone on cold nights, accompanied only by the sounds of the creatures outdoors and the faint memory of joyful kisses, delightful auburn hair to grab, and the warm embrace of a lover, was never a great thing.

Credit to Majenkins13 on Ao3