More... headcannons? Kinda? I dunno
It has an effect on you, growing up surrounded by magical items.
Cassie would know this the best.
Being raised with the Old Builders and their many mystical items has left her with some... oddities. But we already know these, so instead we'll look at the others and how they are effected.
Harper spent decades with the Redstone Heart, tinkering with redstone, building machines; even after PAMA has been dismantled, gone, dead, the woman can still feel the static at the back of her neck, can hear the electrical current running from one piece of machinery to the next; she knows, sometimes, how to fix things without even having to look at it.
Ivor and Soren both spent time with the Command Block, more than any of the others had, touched it with their bare hands, touched an item that could bend reality, create and destroy, that could tug at the threads of the universe, doing whatever the user desires; but Soren knew what he was getting into, and once the Order disbanded, threw himself into anything that wasn't the gods-dammed block. But even so, he can still see it, if he stares off too long, eyes glassy and unfocused, the code of something no mortal is meant to see.
But Ivor- Ivor who lived in the Farlands where order goes to die, who messed with potions and enchantments, who went far and beyond, first in revenge, then in curiosity- for him it's worse. Sometimes at night he'll be sleeping, but- and he knows it sounds crazy, because it is- but he sees himself, asleep, and the longer the stays there, staring, the more the world begins to unravel. Code- yellow, blue, red, and all the colours in between- flashing and crawling and taking over until only he remains.
It reminds him of the Witherstorm, devouring everything until only it remained.
And beyond it, he sees... something. He doesn't know how to describe it, but-
Here's the thing. The Command Block isn't supposed to effect people like this. It just... isn't, kay? But the constant use- creating portals between worlds when it was too dangerous to do so by hand, despawning an Ender Dragon (a dimension guardian), the corruption of a Wither (and a potion, a failure, but still soaking into it, dripping between pieces of hardware and redstone wires centuries old (sparking, glitching, failling), that too effected it)- it all adds up to this: like mold it takes over, spreading, invisible at first, but there.
And it effects Ivor, and Soren, and the Order- hell, even the other Builders were effected (and Cassie, young Cassie, left alone, staring staring staring, hearing whispers when there were none). And there comes a day when Jesse and Ivor talk. And the description Jesse gives him is- it's-!
- but Ivor stares at an infinite galaxy. Structures everywhere. A line-up of every plant, animal and sentiment being lined up like some twisted museum. And in the center- (calling-glowing-whispering-powerful)- is- its...
Well. You've met Romeo, yes? Looked into the eyes of an uncaring god, thousands of years old. And... well. Ivor muses that the Admins had to have gotten their powers somehow.
Mevia and Hadrian, more than Otto, guarded the Atlas with a fervor that had the man worried. The Flint 'n Steel weren't special, it was the enchantment on them that was, but the Atlas... well, making more of it would be a... trying endeavor, let's just say and leave it at that.
But that possessiveness leaves the two with a perfect sense of direction. Getting out of that bedrock world with nothing but chickens/zombies was easy, but it was this imprint of the Atlas' powers that sped that up by whole weeks, leading them straight to the weak point between walls. It helps them, Hadrian knowing where to step to avoid a trap in Cassie's mansion, Mevia knowing where to go in the cramped, desolate Underneath.
And- while it wasn't the crowns themselves that gave the chickens their Eversource abilities, but just a way to tell them from normal chickens- there is something there. Isa can tell Benedict from a normal chicken with just a glance, crown or no crown. Perhaps it's something innate within her, or because she took one as a pet- a familiar- but Isa knows an Eversource when she sees one, her own or a wild one. And it can't be a simple intuition, a guess, because she's always right. There is no tell, the chickens are identical down to their last atom- the only difference lay in the eggs they lay, and that's a magical difference, not a scientific one, so no one can actually tell them apart. Except Isa.
There's a magic to their world- their universe, with its millions of worlds and thousands of dimensions. And Cassie- free, seeking forgiveness, and mending broken and strained relationships- wants to see more of it.
And there is a man here, in Beacontown, who leaves her with fleeting feelings of familiarity, hair like hers, but while her eyes where the green of trees and grass, his were of honey and the sun.
She knows the looks they get- worried, suspicious, angry, horrified- and she gets it. Because they are similar. And everyone knows it, and they are worried.
But it doesn't matter, because Cassie Rose has never really cared for the opinions of the masses (being raised by Hadrian and Mevia will do that), and Romeo, after a few frightful, tiring weeks of being human, has stopped caring as well. Instead they spend their days, side by side, him telling her about times long past, her telling him recent events he didn't care to learn about.
And Jesse may have taken his powers, he may have taken Xara's, but Cassie knows magic, knows power. But she knows that people are fearful of such. And why wouldn't they be? They've gone through so much in only a decade.
So Cassie Rose stays quiet when Romeo gets angry and the room temperature rises or falls. She doesn't mention how his eyes glow, or how his teeth are still so sharp. Or how- when they leave, off to explore- the monsters leave a wide berth, never attacking the ex-admin. She pretends to not notice, like everyone else, she notes, how Xara can break blocks with a single punch, how sparks light up around her when she gets angry, how the tips of her fingers are still an endstone yellow, nails a code green in the right light.
She's more careful now. She's learned after all. She's more patient, observant, secretive. She has to be. Because now she has more to loose.
Before, she knew that if she died, then at the very least, Stampy (kind, sweet, caring Stampy) would take care of her cats. But now she has her dads (and she still feels weird calling them that), and her aunts and uncle. She also, uh, met this one kid? Aiden? And well... she likes him, she supposes, and they're similar, both, uh, attacking Jesse and what-not.
And Romeo. Red-haired, honey-eyed Romeo, who helps her take care of her cats, who knows potions and poisons, machinery and architecture, who teaches and cares for her. He fits right in, in her little (but growing) weird family. And she thinks he likes her too, missing someone, her being not-quite a replacement, but something to soothe whatever hurt still exists.
Sometimes he pats her head, ruffling her hair. She likes that.
She likes him, likes all of them. And... maybe she's finally happy.
This morning I randomly thought about all this, put it into words, and then I had to go to school without writing *any* of it down. So there's a chance I've forgotten some things. Which sucks.
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