Continuing the 8k war between Angst and Fluff on the side of… um. You know I’m not really sure, to be honest.
“I haven’t had anything in 6 months, leave me alone!”
The scarcity mindset is so hard to let go of. Especially when before it all, you were so used to having your inventory full with every item under the sun, tucked neatly in color-coded boxes. People might think that you would feel unencumbered, but you didn’t. You just felt vulnerable, defenseless, helpless. And you were. You had no armor, you had no food, you had no blocks, you had no gold to distract your captors while you ran. If you wanted food, you had to wait for them to remember to feed you. God damn you didn’t even have blocks to build with.
It’s only natural then, that in the aftermath, you’re clinging to every last point of durability. That when you’re handed plenty, you use it all immediately and make it into armor — more armor than you have needed in years — just to calm that voice in your head that is warning you that you’re two taps away from death. The golden helmet feels too much like… like that thing they made you wear when they were transporting you between bastions, but logically you know it’s necessary if you want to make it through this Crimson forest alive.
Ahead of you, Couri is funneling pigs into a small hole. It’s less convenient and less efficient than finding another bastion to loot, but he’s done it without complaining. Because you asked him to. It helps that you found a warped too, but you have the feeling that he would have done anything you asked him to. It feels awful and comforting at once. How much would he do? How far would he push himself for your sake?
Then again, maybe you would have pushed yourself for his sake. If it were good pace — somehow — and there was a second bastion closer, wouldn’t you have forced down the panic in your chest and followed him through the route? You can’t really be mad at him for doing the same thing you know you would do. You don’t really have the energy to be mad at him at all, because every time you look at your rescuer’s face, cut up and soot-smeared, you feel safer and calmer than you can ever remember feeling.
