glitch in the system

Milton had never run so fast in his life.

could he teleport? of course, but he didn't even think of it. he didn't even care. the moment he saw the open book, when he realized corin was gone, it hit him so violently that he couldn't breathe.

"wait, mom, listen to-"

his eyes widened.

he stared at the sight in front of him. the sight of his mother ready to strike his father, like a predator preparing to pounce upon it's pray.

it wasn't a pretty sight, really. it was bittersweet.

hero looked so carefree, so distant. his eyes dull.

corin appeared as though she were a warrior, eyes never moving from the smaller man on the ground.

the moons light blanketed the two, swallowing up shadows and casting the scene in an eerie glow.

he charged.

he charged straight for corin, eyes wide with pain and grief and fury, he couldn't even think. he just- ran. and he shoved her. he shoved her to the floor so violently that he nearly fell over himself.

in that moment, any and all childishness inside of him withered away and died.

The feeling that flowed through her veins as she raised that sword to the sky was cold. It wasn’t a rage that boiled, instead it frosted over their veins, chilling her bones until everything was numb. Nothing remained. Except for her singular purpose.

This was not the first time she’d played executioner, after all, she knew what she was doing.

Sure, she’d be disappointed to see him go, white-eyes was entertaining, and rather good for Milton, but they had promised them his blood.

So the Guardian swung her jaws of death.

And was subsequently knocked off-course.

In a rush of instinct and muscle memory finely tuned from centuries of leaping from trees, they rolled, landing in a low crouch, blade still surely in hand.

The feeling burned now.

How dare someone interfere? How dare they get between the beast and her prey? How DARE THEY HOW DARE THEY HOW DARE-

And it all went quiet.

And she stared uncomprehendingly at her son.

It didn’t really feel like much. Was the blade that sharp? Mm, no, he just wasn't dead. Odd. Was Corin taking her time? What happened?

He blinked open his eyes which he didn’t remember closing. Odd. Hero shook his head to try and ground himself, he felt floaty again. He blinked a few more times before lifting his head to see the scene before him.

Milton to one side, Corin on the other. She still had her blade and there was an uncharacteristic glint in her eyes. A chill ran down his spine like frost. It wasn’t a good thing, was it? Mm, no, that’s bad.

Hero didn’t really clock what was happening. It was confusing. Did Milton run all the way up here? When? It must have happened in the seconds he had closed his eyes. He didn’t know why he did that, maybe he didn’t want to see the blade swing down.

That was never a nice sight.

Hero shook his head again and stood up, looking back and forth between the two. He wasn’t exactly sure what was going on. He didn’t speak, only tilting his head in their directions. Weird.

he was bleeding. bad.

there was a long scar that started at his forehead and ending at his chin, running through his eye and lip

he breathed heavily, staring at corin on the ground

"dont do it."

A single droplet of blood hit the earth, sinking into the soil.

Everything was quiet.

She stared at the gash.

That… She did that.

Hmm. That was not acceptable. He had called off the hunt, which, although irritating, meant that the blank-eyes was no longer her primary concern.

In a fluid motion, they sheathed the sword back into its scabbard and stood up to their full height.

Her gaze flitted once more to her prey, still exposed and weak upon the dirt. Hmph. Not a threat.

The Guardian approached her charge, unclipping a potion from her belt and bandages from her bag, handing it to him with a pointed chuff.

Then they turned and began scanning their surroundings. Someone needed to keep watch for threats while the fledgeling was injured, after all.

he didn't like how she was behaving

of course it was just instinct on her part, but it felt so unnatural to him. so forced.

he reach out to hero in an attempt to grab his hand, but plush ended up grabbing his arm instead. he needed the comfort.

he needed help. now. from anyone.

To be fair, he didn’t really know what was happening. It was all very fuzzy to him. All he knew is that one second his life was being threatened, credit where credit is due, a very polite attempt on his life. The next second however, his son was bleeding everywhere, clutching his arm for dear life.

Hero immediately scooped his kid up into his arms and warped away. He didn’t know where he ended up when he opened his eyes, the small house was unfamiliar to him. Quartz floors and mushroom mixed with dark oak walls were unimportant to him. But the house’s owner seemed to be out, so it was fine. Probably.

He gently placed Milton on the large bed and slammed open the nearest barrel, beginning to rummage through the shulkers within. He pulled out one labeled “Utilities” and popped it open. There were odds and ends in it, small bells and nametags, buckets and- There. Bandages.

Hero grabbed some fabric from within the shulker and wet it in the small cabin’s sink. He knelt before Milton and gently dabbed it over the large slice. He tried not to look at how much blood soaked the cloth.

Once a considerable amount had been cleaned up, Hero began to wrap the wound with the bandages. It would need to be changed frequently, even when he as he finished he could see fresh blood seeping through.

Hero did this in complete silence, never once meeting Milton’s eyes.

plush recognized it as nebs house immediately.

he sat in complete silence as hero wrapped the bandages around his face. it was oddly familiar. comfortably numb.

it wouldn't be the first time he was just a bit blind. and it'd suck ass perception wise, especially for someone who mainly used a bow.

and while it was hard to tell, he was crying. he was sobbing so, so silently.

and whenever hero got close, he'd reach out for him.

it was scary.

Back at the hill, The Guardian scans the area, eyes glinting from the moonlight. She is stone, an impassable wall in the face of her foes. They have a purpose, and they will fulfill it.

[what have I done]

Hearing a disturbance in the air behind her, they whirl around, sword held defensively, moving to place her body in front of her charge.

[the sword that I used to hurt him oh gods I hurt him]

Instead of the threat that they expected to see, they instead faced was the sudden absence of both the former prey and the fledgeling.

[I have done what I swore to never do]

Hmm. That seems unsafe. She needs to stay nearby to protect them, after all.

[I am an oathbreaker I have harmed my kin]

She takes a moment to sheathe her blade, and rubs the side of their face, shedding a few feathers.

That is of no matter, though, she can smell their blood on the wind, and if she can, others can as well, so speed is of the upmost importance.

[I am so sorry I am so sorry I am what they said I was]

The Guardian disappears into the night, making a direct path to one specific house.

It was hard. To see his son in pain and yet to not feel worthy enough to hurt him. It was his fault all of this had happened. From the kingdom to this wound, it was his fault.

Minutes passed by and Hero changed the bandages frequently. His hands were stained more and more red each time. Dried blood stuck under his fingernails. Hero pursed his lips, changing the blood soaked bandages again.

He wondered what Corin was doing. He couldn’t trust her anymore, he knew that. And it wasn’t even that she tried to kill him. It was that she hurt Milton. That was a line that no one could cross. Not even his ally. It was a shame, he was starting to like the odd forest dweller. But he was used to losing people.

Hero sighed and took a seat on the floor. He leaned against the row of cabinets. He hoped whoever lived here didn’t return anytime soon. His eyes scanned over the room and landed on a little white blob. It was hiding under the table by the window. Watching. Watching him. He stared at it for a moment and looked away. He didn’t know what it was. But he didn’t care to find out, really.

milton blinked a few times.

the silence was unbearable, but he knew hero didn't want to talk.

"im sorry.."

he was sorry. he was sorry for putting him through this mess. for getting him into something he wasn't supposed to.

he leaned over a little bit and turned his head, eyeing the white blob, before smiling.

"hey there lil guy. remember me?"

he turned back to hero after a moment, gesturing towards the blob

"dont worry bout him, he's a friend."

The Guardian is silently perched atop of Nebula’s cottage, watching the ground below like a hawk. She didn’t necessarily understand why the fledgeling chose to take their former prey into shelter, but she would protect them regardless.

[i understand why, hero didn’t hurt him slash him betray his trust]

Her face was composed, a determination pressed deep into their bones. A creature of scales, sinew, and teeth hellbent on the singular goal of watch and wait.

And as tears stream down that perfectly calm, motionless face, she never makes a sound.

[what good is a guardian who breaks what she protects?]

#milton #corin #in character #ooc tags #hbsmp #((I KEEP REBLOGGING THIS TO MY MAIN WHY

He knew Corin was there, of course. He knew a lot of things. For example, he knew that if Corin attempted to walk through that door, she wouldn’t make it past the hinges. He kept an ear out for any sounds of movement.

Hero didn’t respond to Milton either. Though he did watch as the little blob paused before hopping over to his son. It bounced onto the bed and into Milton’s lap, settling itself there. It mad a little chirping sound, content.

He raised an eyebrow at that, but made no comment. If it didn’t hurt Milton, the weird little blob could stay.

Yellow eyes still fixed at some faraway point in the sky, Corin unsheathes the large, gleaming greatsword on her back, and with one smooth motion sweeps her arm, the blade now suddenly a hair’s width away from his throat.

“For all that you did that led to him getting hurt, I hope the good you did for him can bring you some comfort in the end.”

Then Corin’s eyes gleam, the runes exposed on her throat glow, and she lifts the blade high up once more with an air of finality.

-Corin

He didn’t flinch at the blade. It was a talent or maybe it was just his lack of care. Not about Milton, oh he cared so much about Milton it made his charcoal heart ache.

He didn’t care about death.

He wouldn’t end up here of course. He couldn’t truly die. He was a glitch, a god, an error, a mistake. He’d be summoned and killed and summoned again for centuries and centuries more. A blade would do the trick. It was exceptionally sharp this one, he’d commend her on the care of it if it wasn’t at his neck.

Hero remained silent. Even as the blade swung up like an executioners axe. It would be clean and quick, Corin was good like that. Though it was a shame the wooden steps would stain. He hoped whoever built it wouldn’t mind.

He took a deep breath and stared out into the night sky. Hero began to count stars. It was better if he didn’t think about it. That’s what he learned, anyhow. Made it easier. Made it hurt less. He should be thankful, really. There were worse ways to go.

There’s a lot of stars out tonight.

Milton had never run so fast in his life.

could he teleport? of course, but he didn't even think of it. he didn't even care. the moment he saw the open book, when he realized corin was gone, it hit him so violently that he couldn't breathe.

"wait, mom, listen to-"

his eyes widened.

he stared at the sight in front of him. the sight of his mother ready to strike his father, like a predator preparing to pounce upon it's pray.

it wasn't a pretty sight, really. it was bittersweet.

hero looked so carefree, so distant. his eyes dull.

corin appeared as though she were a warrior, eyes never moving from the smaller man on the ground.

the moons light blanketed the two, swallowing up shadows and casting the scene in an eerie glow.

he charged.

he charged straight for corin, eyes wide with pain and grief and fury, he couldn't even think. he just- ran. and he shoved her. he shoved her to the floor so violently that he nearly fell over himself.

in that moment, any and all childishness inside of him withered away and died.

The feeling that flowed through her veins as she raised that sword to the sky was cold. It wasn’t a rage that boiled, instead it frosted over their veins, chilling her bones until everything was numb. Nothing remained. Except for her singular purpose.

This was not the first time she’d played executioner, after all, she knew what she was doing.

Sure, she’d be disappointed to see him go, white-eyes was entertaining, and rather good for Milton, but they had promised them his blood.

So the Guardian swung her jaws of death.

And was subsequently knocked off-course.

In a rush of instinct and muscle memory finely tuned from centuries of leaping from trees, they rolled, landing in a low crouch, blade still surely in hand.

The feeling burned now.

How dare someone interfere? How dare they get between the beast and her prey? How DARE THEY HOW DARE THEY HOW DARE-

And it all went quiet.

And she stared uncomprehendingly at her son.

It didn’t really feel like much. Was the blade that sharp? Mm, no, he just wasn't dead. Odd. Was Corin taking her time? What happened?

He blinked open his eyes which he didn’t remember closing. Odd. Hero shook his head to try and ground himself, he felt floaty again. He blinked a few more times before lifting his head to see the scene before him.

Milton to one side, Corin on the other. She still had her blade and there was an uncharacteristic glint in her eyes. A chill ran down his spine like frost. It wasn’t a good thing, was it? Mm, no, that’s bad.

Hero didn’t really clock what was happening. It was confusing. Did Milton run all the way up here? When? It must have happened in the seconds he had closed his eyes. He didn’t know why he did that, maybe he didn’t want to see the blade swing down.

That was never a nice sight.

Hero shook his head again and stood up, looking back and forth between the two. He wasn’t exactly sure what was going on. He didn’t speak, only tilting his head in their directions. Weird.

he was bleeding. bad.

there was a long scar that started at his forehead and ending at his chin, running through his eye and lip

he breathed heavily, staring at corin on the ground

"dont do it."

A single droplet of blood hit the earth, sinking into the soil.

Everything was quiet.

She stared at the gash.

That… She did that.

Hmm. That was not acceptable. He had called off the hunt, which, although irritating, meant that the blank-eyes was no longer her primary concern.

In a fluid motion, they sheathed the sword back into its scabbard and stood up to their full height.

Her gaze flitted once more to her prey, still exposed and weak upon the dirt. Hmph. Not a threat.

The Guardian approached her charge, unclipping a potion from her belt and bandages from her bag, handing it to him with a pointed chuff.

Then they turned and began scanning their surroundings. Someone needed to keep watch for threats while the fledgeling was injured, after all.

he didn't like how she was behaving

of course it was just instinct on her part, but it felt so unnatural to him. so forced.

he reach out to hero in an attempt to grab his hand, but plush ended up grabbing his arm instead. he needed the comfort.

he needed help. now. from anyone.

To be fair, he didn’t really know what was happening. It was all very fuzzy to him. All he knew is that one second his life was being threatened, credit where credit is due, a very polite attempt on his life. The next second however, his son was bleeding everywhere, clutching his arm for dear life.

Hero immediately scooped his kid up into his arms and warped away. He didn’t know where he ended up when he opened his eyes, the small house was unfamiliar to him. Quartz floors and mushroom mixed with dark oak walls were unimportant to him. But the house’s owner seemed to be out, so it was fine. Probably.

He gently placed Milton on the large bed and slammed open the nearest barrel, beginning to rummage through the shulkers within. He pulled out one labeled “Utilities” and popped it open. There were odds and ends in it, small bells and nametags, buckets and- There. Bandages.

Hero grabbed some fabric from within the shulker and wet it in the small cabin’s sink. He knelt before Milton and gently dabbed it over the large slice. He tried not to look at how much blood soaked the cloth.

Once a considerable amount had been cleaned up, Hero began to wrap the wound with the bandages. It would need to be changed frequently, even when he as he finished he could see fresh blood seeping through.

Hero did this in complete silence, never once meeting Milton’s eyes.

plush recognized it as nebs house immediately.

he sat in complete silence as hero wrapped the bandages around his face. it was oddly familiar. comfortably numb.

it wouldn't be the first time he was just a bit blind. and it'd suck ass perception wise, especially for someone who mainly used a bow.

and while it was hard to tell, he was crying. he was sobbing so, so silently.

and whenever hero got close, he'd reach out for him.

it was scary.

Back at the hill, The Guardian scans the area, eyes glinting from the moonlight. She is stone, an impassable wall in the face of her foes. They have a purpose, and they will fulfill it.

[what have I done]

Hearing a disturbance in the air behind her, they whirl around, sword held defensively, moving to place her body in front of her charge.

[the sword that I used to hurt him oh gods I hurt him]

Instead of the threat that they expected to see, they instead faced was the sudden absence of both the former prey and the fledgeling.

[I have done what I swore to never do]

Hmm. That seems unsafe. She needs to stay nearby to protect them, after all.

[I am an oathbreaker I have harmed my kin]

She takes a moment to sheathe her blade, and rubs the side of their face, shedding a few feathers.

That is of no matter, though, she can smell their blood on the wind, and if she can, others can as well, so speed is of the upmost importance.

[I am so sorry I am so sorry I am what they said I was]

The Guardian disappears into the night, making a direct path to one specific house.

#in character #milton #hbsmp

It was hard. To see his son in pain and yet to not feel worthy enough to hurt him. It was his fault all of this had happened. From the kingdom to this wound, it was his fault.

Minutes passed by and Hero changed the bandages frequently. His hands were stained more and more red each time. Dried blood stuck under his fingernails. Hero pursed his lips, changing the blood soaked bandages again.

He wondered what Corin was doing. He couldn’t trust her anymore, he knew that. And it wasn’t even that she tried to kill him. It was that she hurt Milton. That was a line that no one could cross. Not even his ally. It was a shame, he was starting to like the odd forest dweller. But he was used to losing people.

Hero sighed and took a seat on the floor. He leaned against the row of cabinets. He hoped whoever lived here didn’t return anytime soon. His eyes scanned over the room and landed on a little white blob. It was hiding under the table by the window. Watching. Watching him. He stared at it for a moment and looked away. He didn’t know what it was. But he didn’t care to find out, really.

Yellow eyes still fixed at some faraway point in the sky, Corin unsheathes the large, gleaming greatsword on her back, and with one smooth motion sweeps her arm, the blade now suddenly a hair’s width away from his throat.

“For all that you did that led to him getting hurt, I hope the good you did for him can bring you some comfort in the end.”

Then Corin’s eyes gleam, the runes exposed on her throat glow, and she lifts the blade high up once more with an air of finality.

-Corin

He didn’t flinch at the blade. It was a talent or maybe it was just his lack of care. Not about Milton, oh he cared so much about Milton it made his charcoal heart ache.

He didn’t care about death.

He wouldn’t end up here of course. He couldn’t truly die. He was a glitch, a god, an error, a mistake. He’d be summoned and killed and summoned again for centuries and centuries more. A blade would do the trick. It was exceptionally sharp this one, he’d commend her on the care of it if it wasn’t at his neck.

Hero remained silent. Even as the blade swung up like an executioners axe. It would be clean and quick, Corin was good like that. Though it was a shame the wooden steps would stain. He hoped whoever built it wouldn’t mind.

He took a deep breath and stared out into the night sky. Hero began to count stars. It was better if he didn’t think about it. That’s what he learned, anyhow. Made it easier. Made it hurt less. He should be thankful, really. There were worse ways to go.

There’s a lot of stars out tonight.

Milton had never run so fast in his life.

could he teleport? of course, but he didn't even think of it. he didn't even care. the moment he saw the open book, when he realized corin was gone, it hit him so violently that he couldn't breathe.

"wait, mom, listen to-"

his eyes widened.

he stared at the sight in front of him. the sight of his mother ready to strike his father, like a predator preparing to pounce upon it's pray.

it wasn't a pretty sight, really. it was bittersweet.

hero looked so carefree, so distant. his eyes dull.

corin appeared as though she were a warrior, eyes never moving from the smaller man on the ground.

the moons light blanketed the two, swallowing up shadows and casting the scene in an eerie glow.

he charged.

he charged straight for corin, eyes wide with pain and grief and fury, he couldn't even think. he just- ran. and he shoved her. he shoved her to the floor so violently that he nearly fell over himself.

in that moment, any and all childishness inside of him withered away and died.

The feeling that flowed through her veins as she raised that sword to the sky was cold. It wasn’t a rage that boiled, instead it frosted over their veins, chilling her bones until everything was numb. Nothing remained. Except for her singular purpose.

This was not the first time she’d played executioner, after all, she knew what she was doing.

Sure, she’d be disappointed to see him go, white-eyes was entertaining, and rather good for Milton, but they had promised them his blood.

So the Guardian swung her jaws of death.

And was subsequently knocked off-course.

In a rush of instinct and muscle memory finely tuned from centuries of leaping from trees, they rolled, landing in a low crouch, blade still surely in hand.

The feeling burned now.

How dare someone interfere? How dare they get between the beast and her prey? How DARE THEY HOW DARE THEY HOW DARE-

And it all went quiet.

And she stared uncomprehendingly at her son.

It didn’t really feel like much. Was the blade that sharp? Mm, no, he just wasn't dead. Odd. Was Corin taking her time? What happened?

He blinked open his eyes which he didn’t remember closing. Odd. Hero shook his head to try and ground himself, he felt floaty again. He blinked a few more times before lifting his head to see the scene before him.

Milton to one side, Corin on the other. She still had her blade and there was an uncharacteristic glint in her eyes. A chill ran down his spine like frost. It wasn’t a good thing, was it? Mm, no, that’s bad.

Hero didn’t really clock what was happening. It was confusing. Did Milton run all the way up here? When? It must have happened in the seconds he had closed his eyes. He didn’t know why he did that, maybe he didn’t want to see the blade swing down.

That was never a nice sight.

Hero shook his head again and stood up, looking back and forth between the two. He wasn’t exactly sure what was going on. He didn’t speak, only tilting his head in their directions. Weird.

he was bleeding. bad.

there was a long scar that started at his forehead and ending at his chin, running through his eye and lip

he breathed heavily, staring at corin on the ground

"dont do it."

A single droplet of blood hit the earth, sinking into the soil.

Everything was quiet.

She stared at the gash.

That… She did that.

Hmm. That was not acceptable. He had called off the hunt, which, although irritating, meant that the blank-eyes was no longer her primary concern.

In a fluid motion, they sheathed the sword back into its scabbard and stood up to their full height.

Her gaze flitted once more to her prey, still exposed and weak upon the dirt. Hmph. Not a threat.

The Guardian approached her charge, unclipping a potion from her belt and bandages from her bag, handing it to him with a pointed chuff.

Then they turned and began scanning their surroundings. Someone needed to keep watch for threats while the fledgeling was injured, after all.

he didn't like how she was behaving

of course it was just instinct on her part, but it felt so unnatural to him. so forced.

he reach out to hero in an attempt to grab his hand, but plush ended up grabbing his arm instead. he needed the comfort.

he needed help. now. from anyone.

#Milton #In character #hbsmp

To be fair, he didn’t really know what was happening. It was all very fuzzy to him. All he knew is that one second his life was being threatened, credit where credit is due, a very polite attempt on his life. The next second however, his son was bleeding everywhere, clutching his arm for dear life.

Hero immediately scooped his kid up into his arms and warped away. He didn’t know where he ended up when he opened his eyes, the small house was unfamiliar to him. Quartz floors and mushroom mixed with dark oak walls were unimportant to him. But the house’s owner seemed to be out, so it was fine. Probably.

He gently placed Milton on the large bed and slammed open the nearest barrel, beginning to rummage through the shulkers within. He pulled out one labeled “Utilities” and popped it open. There were odds and ends in it, small bells and nametags, buckets and- There. Bandages.

Hero grabbed some fabric from within the shulker and wet it in the small cabin’s sink. He knelt before Milton and gently dabbed it over the large slice. He tried not to look at how much blood soaked the cloth.

Once a considerable amount had been cleaned up, Hero began to wrap the wound with the bandages. It would need to be changed frequently, even when he as he finished he could see fresh blood seeping through.

Hero did this in complete silence, never once meeting Milton’s eyes.

Yellow eyes still fixed at some faraway point in the sky, Corin unsheathes the large, gleaming greatsword on her back, and with one smooth motion sweeps her arm, the blade now suddenly a hair’s width away from his throat.

“For all that you did that led to him getting hurt, I hope the good you did for him can bring you some comfort in the end.”

Then Corin’s eyes gleam, the runes exposed on her throat glow, and she lifts the blade high up once more with an air of finality.

-Corin

He didn’t flinch at the blade. It was a talent or maybe it was just his lack of care. Not about Milton, oh he cared so much about Milton it made his charcoal heart ache.

He didn’t care about death.

He wouldn’t end up here of course. He couldn’t truly die. He was a glitch, a god, an error, a mistake. He’d be summoned and killed and summoned again for centuries and centuries more. A blade would do the trick. It was exceptionally sharp this one, he’d commend her on the care of it if it wasn’t at his neck.

Hero remained silent. Even as the blade swung up like an executioners axe. It would be clean and quick, Corin was good like that. Though it was a shame the wooden steps would stain. He hoped whoever built it wouldn’t mind.

He took a deep breath and stared out into the night sky. Hero began to count stars. It was better if he didn’t think about it. That’s what he learned, anyhow. Made it easier. Made it hurt less. He should be thankful, really. There were worse ways to go.

There’s a lot of stars out tonight.

Milton had never run so fast in his life.

could he teleport? of course, but he didn't even think of it. he didn't even care. the moment he saw the open book, when he realized corin was gone, it hit him so violently that he couldn't breathe.

"wait, mom, listen to-"

his eyes widened.

he stared at the sight in front of him. the sight of his mother ready to strike his father, like a predator preparing to pounce upon it's pray.

it wasn't a pretty sight, really. it was bittersweet.

hero looked so carefree, so distant. his eyes dull.

corin appeared as though she were a warrior, eyes never moving from the smaller man on the ground.

the moons light blanketed the two, swallowing up shadows and casting the scene in an eerie glow.

he charged.

he charged straight for corin, eyes wide with pain and grief and fury, he couldn't even think. he just- ran. and he shoved her. he shoved her to the floor so violently that he nearly fell over himself.

in that moment, any and all childishness inside of him withered away and died.

The feeling that flowed through her veins as she raised that sword to the sky was cold. It wasn’t a rage that boiled, instead it frosted over their veins, chilling her bones until everything was numb. Nothing remained. Except for her singular purpose.

This was not the first time she’d played executioner, after all, she knew what she was doing.

Sure, she’d be disappointed to see him go, white-eyes was entertaining, and rather good for Milton, but they had promised them his blood.

So the Guardian swung her jaws of death.

And was subsequently knocked off-course.

In a rush of instinct and muscle memory finely tuned from centuries of leaping from trees, they rolled, landing in a low crouch, blade still surely in hand.

The feeling burned now.

How dare someone interfere? How dare they get between the beast and her prey? How DARE THEY HOW DARE THEY HOW DARE-

And it all went quiet.

And she stared uncomprehendingly at her son.

#Corin #Milton #in character #hbsmp

It didn’t really feel like much. Was the blade that sharp? Mm, no, he just wasn't dead. Odd. Was Corin taking her time? What happened?

He blinked open his eyes which he didn’t remember closing. Odd. Hero shook his head to try and ground himself, he felt floaty again. He blinked a few more times before lifting his head to see the scene before him.

Milton to one side, Corin on the other. She still had her blade and there was an uncharacteristic glint in her eyes. A chill ran down his spine like frost. It wasn’t a good thing, was it? Mm, no, that’s bad.

Hero didn’t really clock what was happening. It was confusing. Did Milton run all the way up here? When? It must have happened in the seconds he had closed his eyes. He didn’t know why he did that, maybe he didn’t want to see the blade swing down.

That was never a nice sight.

Hero shook his head again and stood up, looking back and forth between the two. He wasn’t exactly sure what was going on. He didn’t speak, only tilting his head in their directions. Weird.

Yellow eyes still fixed at some faraway point in the sky, Corin unsheathes the large, gleaming greatsword on her back, and with one smooth motion sweeps her arm, the blade now suddenly a hair’s width away from his throat.

“For all that you did that led to him getting hurt, I hope the good you did for him can bring you some comfort in the end.”

Then Corin’s eyes gleam, the runes exposed on her throat glow, and she lifts the blade high up once more with an air of finality.

-Corin

He didn’t flinch at the blade. It was a talent or maybe it was just his lack of care. Not about Milton, oh he cared so much about Milton it made his charcoal heart ache.

He didn’t care about death.

He wouldn’t end up here of course. He couldn’t truly die. He was a glitch, a god, an error, a mistake. He’d be summoned and killed and summoned again for centuries and centuries more. A blade would do the trick. It was exceptionally sharp this one, he’d commend her on the care of it if it wasn’t at his neck.

Hero remained silent. Even as the blade swung up like an executioners axe. It would be clean and quick, Corin was good like that. Though it was a shame the wooden steps would stain. He hoped whoever built it wouldn’t mind.

He took a deep breath and stared out into the night sky. Hero began to count stars. It was better if he didn’t think about it. That’s what he learned, anyhow. Made it easier. Made it hurt less. He should be thankful, really. There were worse ways to go.

There’s a lot of stars out tonight.

#Corin #in character #hbsmp

It was not long before Corin trudged her way up the grassy hill, obviously making noise to alert Hero to their presence. She didn’t speak, but wandered to his side, sitting a little bit away from the still lightly-glitching person.

They sighed, just once, and looked up at the sky, looking slightly tired from the stresses of the day. She was even still wearing her armor.

“Y’know… I promised.”

- Corin

Hero watched her approach. He knew, of course. He was good like that. At knowing things. He didn’t really mind, of course. It was her job after all, guardian, protector, mother. It was her job, so it was only fair.

He didn’t move or flinch as she sat down, only stared ahead. At her word, he shrugged. That was true, she promised. It was unfortunate that he was on the receiving end though. A shame, really. But that’s karma for you.

She always gets you in the end. It’s just the way it is.

#Corin #in character #hbsmp

Plush sighed, he kept holding him, he new it wouldn't help. he knew how bad he fucked this up. but he wouldn't leave. he didn't want to.

not til hero spoke. not til hero smiled.

not even bread could fix this like it did in the past.

only milton could fix this.

and he was trying really hard.

Hero blinked. One second he was inside his house, the torches dimmed and his son clinging onto him, and the next he was outside. He meant to land on top of the hill, but it seemed he landed in a fountain.

The top half of the hill had been flattened out to make room for a gazebo, a fountain, and several other things. A large blanket was spread out facing a clear view of the sky. He tilted his head, not remembering this.

Hero stepped out of the fountain and walked to the gazebo, sitting down on it’s wooden steps. They creaked a bit, which was odd. He blinked and stared expressionless out into the sky. It had always looked off to him, ever so slightly wrong shade of blue. This whole world was peculiar, really.

He took a deep breath in, feeling his chest expand. It didn’t feel filling, only hollow and very disappointing. Hero frowned and tried again. The same result. But at least it was getting him to breath. The glitching had reduced, his neck didn’t hurt as much. That was good, at least.

He did feel bad for leaving Milton, but maybe it was for the best. Was he really safe to be around, anyways?

#In character #Milton #hbsmp

"please..."

he was trembling.

milton, the boy who braved through 16 long years of isolation, who destroyed villages and befriended withers, who stared into the unknown and laughed, who conquered the one person he hated most, was trembling over the idea of his father blaming himself.

he new hero was to blame.

and he didn't care.

and he held him closer.

"please.. please just talk to me... just...."

Hero didn’t oblige, he just stood there with a blank sort of look on his face. Did he even deserve to talk? What was there to say? He couldn’t think of anything. A sorry wouldn’t erase a life’s worth of trauma.

Even if it wasn’t his fault, he learned today that he lit the fuse. Set the pieces up, aligned the stars, blew a kingdom to kingdom come. It wasn’t fair of him, he knew that. But he did it anyways. For what? He didn’t know.

His mind squiggled all over the place now. Why was he upset again? Why was Milton crying. Oh, right. It was a mess of winding roads of thought and ‘oh, rights‘ that put him back on course, if only for a second.

His hands hung heavy at his side.

#Milton #hbsmp #in character

"its okay."

plush wanted him to hug back. he wanted it to be okay. he shouldn't have asked.

"I know. i get it. it was wrong. you were wrong."

he hugs him tighter. he can feel himself crying. he knew what hero did was horrible. but he didn't care. it was so hard to be mad at him.

"its ok. its ok."

He just laughed again, some weak and horrible little thing. He still remembered the sting of the blade across his face, the blood dripping to the corner of his mouth. The face of the guard when he looked him in the eyes, the sound of his last hitched breath. He killed so many that night, whether it was by his sword, the dynamite that rocked the walls, or the mobs he unleashed against the tides of people.

He still heard their screams at night.

A part of him still didn’t regret it, still thought it was worthy revenge, a punishment, a message. Why did he do it in the first place…? It didn’t matter. That part of him still didn’t regret it, but only twinged because of Milton.

It was all because of Milton, his son, that he was still here. Because of him. And now he was hear, knowing he was the spark that ruined his life. What a small, terrible world it was.

he looked down. that answered it. that answered it all.

"....no."

he wasn't mad. he wasn't angry. he was confused. he was scared.

but he still pulled hero into a warm hug. he still wrapped his wings around him.

milton was still his son.

He didn’t hug back. He didn’t deserve to hug his son after learning that, learning he caused everything wrong. He really was a terrible person, wasn’t he?

They were right to hate him, right to scream and cry and shout and throw stones and arrows. They were right. He didn’t deserve this. Hero had pushed the memory, his sins down for so long that for once he felt free.

But it all came back now. What did he do…? So many people killed and injured but none more important than his son. His son who suffered because of his actions, his hand, his fire, his sword, his anger.

What had he done…?

"no, you- dad, look at me."

milton had never been more concerned. more scared.

"please. i know somethings wrong. your voice is glitchy. you look panicked. just tell me. im not mad. were you there? did you see it? was-"

he felt himself become uneasy. he wouldn't be mad at him

he'd never be mad at him

"...was it you..?"

He laughed, it was a sad, nervous little thing. The laugh of a man who had done something terrible, so terrible that the man was used to scare children to sleep. Such a heinous crime that his name was barely spoken. Even talking about that man was taboo.

Written in parchment and then books, through mouth and written word. He laughed, and it was filled with thick regret.

“Y͟ó͝u̶ ͟ŕ̢e̸͡͞a̢͝l҉͝l̷̴ý͜ di͝d͏̨n̛̕’͠t̀ ̶́͠r̴͘e͘͞a̸͟d̷͞ ̀͝ţ҉h̵҉͟è̛ ͘s̵t̵̵͘o̶r̛y̢͟b̸͢o҉͝͝o̵ķs̢,͟ ̀͟d́҉id͝ ̶yoų…͘?”

"look i,..."

he sighs

"I don't know who did it either. but when we find them, we can kill them, alright??? if that helps.."

then his voice registered.

"...dad. dad what's wrong...?"

Kill them. Right. It was only fair, the kingdom fell and that make it so Milton’s life became a living hell. It was only fair, wasn’t it?

He let out a ragged sigh and shook his head. There was something missing here. But it was fine. It was only fair.

“‘s ̷f̵íne̶.̶ Ju͟s̀t tir̕ed ̡a҉n͜d ͟I di͝dn͜’̷t ́r̷e̛a̶l̢ly ęxp͜ect ͏i̴t.̵ ̢I͢t̕’͠s̢ fi̸ne͞ t̀hou̕g҉h,͞ I’ll̵ b̡e ̨a҉lrig͞ḩt. I’ll͏ be ̶fine̸.͘”

He swallowed and looked down at his hands. The scar that raked its way across his face burned.

“And́ ̛if w͟e̛ ́e̡v͠eŗ f̵in̛d̶ ̸t̶h̕at g͢uy͟,̸ ͞I͡’ĺl ̨ma͏k͞e̵ ͟su̸re ͝t̀o he̛lp͝ ͡you ̴g̡e҉t ́h̕i̷m͏ good. It’s͞ ̵o͢nl̛y fa͠i͠r̡. ”

He balled his hands into fists, digging his fingers into his palms. It was only fair, right? It was only fair.

only fair

"and- woah woah hey- are you alright?? what's wrong?? do- did i say something wrong-?"

the bread boy was now frantically trying to understand

"heyhey!! don't worry about it, im okay now!!"

[Milton]

He shook his head, like he was attempting to shake off something deeply rooted within him. He was quiet for a second before nodding.

”R͡ig͏ht, ri̷g̵h̸t͡…͢. Ri̡g͠h̀t.͞ Í’m ͞j̧u̕s̛t g͝l͜ad y̵ou̷’̡r̛e͏ o͜k҉ nǫw.“

#Milton #In character #hbsmp

"well,,"

"ouro was created... after it's downfall. my village neighbored the kingdom, we.. we had to create him to save ourselves which led to... yknow."

[Milton]

His breath hitched for a second. His mind raced up and down the grapevine, tying the two strings together into a horrifying realization.

This never would have happened if not for that one fateful night. Milton would still be happy, not dead in this fake little world. He would have been fine.

Hero sucked in a deep breath. He was dead silent.

so i have- a funny question, and i know it's a bit random but.

do you know about the fallen kingdom??

[Milton]

There was a long, long pause of silence. The tiniest bit of static filtered through, seeming barely contained. It was the loud sort of silence, one that spoke more than words. At long last, he finally answered.

”…. I know of it, yes. Why do you ask?”

#((WUH oh #Ooc tags #in character #Milton #hbsmp

iambeggingyoutostepin

I’̧m͠ ̸on͠ my͡ way. ̷