Team Fluff's Entries

Survivor's Guilt - Mumskall (Skyla's Entry)

TW: Demise, slight mental breakdown. Nothing too bad, but still.

Word Count - 3996
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Things had been going so well. Perhaps a little bit too well.

Over the course of the weeks that passed by, Iskall had managed to keep themselves alive. That was as well as things could go, given the current state of affairs.

However, as the catalogue of the demised slowly grew increasingly larger in size, the traps were being laid in mass, and death was becoming harder to avoid. Iskall, for the most part, had been lucky, for they hadn't yet found themselves reeling for dear life.

Not yet, anyways.

However, they, as a living, breathing individual, they were vulnerable to the traps that would eventually lead to their demise. They didn't have a clue as to what the hollow, grey husks of people who were once their friends had planned to help the living to cross to the other side. But they were unsure, and infinitely uncertain of the time that would undoubtedly come when they felt their life fleeting from right beneath their feet.

Death had never been pleasant. Right now, however, it was even worse.

Yet, despite that threat, that anxiety that something could, or rather, would go wrong, Iskall found themselves outside of the comfort of their bunker, once again attempting to brave the new threats of would suddenly more hostile world.

They were in the middle of shopping district, by the store front of Sahara. The place which they had known to be filled with shenanigans and forever bustling with life was now desolate. Abandoned, and completely still. The only sounds were that of the passing wind and stray bits of tripwire. Not only did the scent of gunpowder linger in the air, it was also prominent. And extremely potent.

The hermit took a stance, standing almost deathly still as they waited for their moustached friend to arrive. Today was to be another long day of end busting for them both.

Iskall recognised that this was a bad idea. And they were sure that Mumbo did, too. The end was particularly easy to trap, considering the involvement of portals and how easy they were to alter. However, their desperation for shulker shells had only grown with the passage of time. Besides, Iskall was almost certain that it was safe. They had checked the end for traps only a few days prior. There were none then. There should be none now.

A loud sound rang in the air, and Iskall nearly jumped. However, they were relieved to see Mumbo gliding down gently, though lacking in grace. He landed haphazardly by the entrance of the dragon bro bunker, near the riches that Sahara had collected over the course of the season. Mumbo placed his hands on his knees, heaving heavy breaths.

"I'm so sorry for being late!" His voice peaked at around the point of yelling, though not quite there. Iskall rolled their eyes in a fond manner, the hints of a laugh escaping their lips.

"You're always late. I'm just glad you arrived!" They teased the taller hermit, only to get elbowed in their side.

"Whatever. Let's head to the stronghold already" Mumbo smiled, grabbing Iskall by the arm and dragging them towards the nearest portal, as though he had been the one to wait for half an hour and not Iskall. Nothing was said out loud about their situation, with neither hermit wanting the light atmosphere to tense up. They needed this to relieve them of their worries, and hang out as friends, as they had always done.

Still, it was obvious that they were both on high alert.
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Iskall stared, wide eyed and inches from where they were standing just moments prior. A loud bang had sounded in their ear, far too close for comfort.