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“Not one partner, huh?”
“You’re not offering.” Jimmy muttered, not even looking over his shoulder, feet swinging off the cliff face.
“Hell no, I’ve already tried that. Twice.” Came the huff, and the sound of talons clinking on the grass. “Just would’ve expected you to have one by now. Didn’t go so well when you were cast out alone, did it?”
“Whose fault is that?” Jimmy grumbled, voice muffled slightly by his hand holding up his cheek.
“You stole that life.”
“Irrelevant.” Jimmy waved him off, followed by an exasperated sigh. “You don’t sound like you have anyone, either.”
“You don’t know that.”
Red feathers came into view out of the corner of Jimmy’s eye. Red sweater. Hands shoved into pockets. Watching the terrain out before them both, in the dark night.
“You’d have rubbed it in my face by now.” Jimmy scoffed.
“Eh, that's too easy.” Grian snickered, the sound of his tail twitching over the green blades beneath them. “Did nobody want you around? Is it cause you kept breaking all those tables?”
“I didn’t offer, really.” Jimmy tilted his head a little further away from Grian. “And Scott stopped me and Scar from teaming.”
Grian laughed, probably throwing his head back with it. Jimmy groaned, easily drowned in Grian’s near-shrieking, carrying across the caverns beneath them. It probably echoed. He always had to be loud, didn’t he? Always had to be all-encompassing.
“Smart plan!” Grian sounded like he was grinning. “As fun as it would be to see you kick it that early.”
“It was probably for Scar’s benefit, really.” Jimmy snorted, maybe a tad bitter. “He’d die right with me.”
“Yeah, probably.” Grian snorted. “Don’t worry, I’ll ensure Scar stays no less than a mile of you at all times.”
“Thanks.” Jimmy deadpanned, those tiny, useless wings on his back slumping further, laying on the ground.
“Scott didn’t team with you either, then?” Grian hummed. “I know he’s got a Gem and the Scotts thing going on, but not even a poppy?”
“I wouldn’t fit in with it, anyway.” Jimmy shrugged half-heartedly. “M’not a builder.”
“True, you’d ruin the property value.” Grian said easily, moving a little closer, talons hooking right over the edge of the cliff. Jimmy thought he’d probably fall a lot less if he had those. “Tango and Skizz have an open spot after Cleo left, I hear.”
“I’m—” Jimmy hunched up his shoulders, then glared to the side, only seeing Grian’s legs. “What, you trying to matchmake me with a team, now?”
“Well, you look pathetic, for one thing.” Grian said, and Jimmy scoffed, sitting up straighter. Grian’s face, he saw now, was as casual, and careless, as could be. “And that’s just boring to watch. For another,” And here he grinned a sly, teasing thing, “it’d be fun to see how it all goes to smithereens after you're down.”
“Thanks, Grian,” Jimmy grumbled, glaring back out at the terrain, “thank you, for clarifying my entire point.”
“Pardon?”
“There’s no point to teaming with anyone.” Jimmy smooshed his cheek further into his hand, eyes cast to the water far below. It wasn’t as large as the ravine he took the leap of faith from. “Because it’ll fall apart. Before or after I die.”
“That’s most groups, Jim.”
“It’s my death that almost always causes it!” Jimmy near-exploded, throwing out his hands. “I die in Third Life, and Scott loses his mind to avenge me and dies way too soon, and we know how good he is at these games! Sure I didn’t die when leaving the Southlanders, but you,” He turned and pointed an accusing finger to an impassive Grian, “kill me, and then kill Mumbo, who I thought was your best friend!”
“He is.” Grian said evenly. It didn’t have much humor anymore.
“And then Double Life,” Jimmy dropped his face to his hands, “I ruined Tango’s entire game. And then Limited,” He glared off into the distance again, “I fell off of all things. Joel was planning to die before me just to keep me safe, you know? I didn’t know until afterwards. And you certainly didn’t stick together when I was gone!”
“We were in the end times.” Grian shrugged, as careless as ever. “Everyone knows all bets are off when a canary dies.”
“And so why even bother?” Jimmy grumbled, chin resting on both his fists, elbows propped on his knees. “I keep ruining people. If I just don’t bother with anyone, then maybe I won’t even die first.”
“Nah, you will.” Grian said easily, and Jimmy sneered at him. “Also, that's a dumb plan.” He continued, lightly smacking Jimmy’s shoulder with his way too big wing.
“You say that because it's me.” Jimmy huffed.
“I do.” Grian said, looking down at him. His eyes were always far too black. They blended right in with the night sky behind him, like holes straight through his head. Maybe the stars were his eyes. “Because you’re a canary, and that’s not going to change even when you're alone.”
“You going to kill me yourself to make sure of that, then?” Jimmy snarked, deflating further.
“Eh, maybe, but I meant more that we’re all screwed no matter if you're alone.” Grian said simply. “Someone always wants to try with you, y’know? Even if you're not teammates, you’re going to kill ‘em some way or another, so long you care about them.” His expression was as impassive as ever, gesturing with his wing. “People are going to die because you’re Jimmy Solidarity. The Universe itself couldn’t fix that.”
And Jimmy stared for a moment. He blinked, taking that in. Understood that Grian meant that wholly and genuinely, even as the man was looking away again to stare out. Like it was just that. A finality. The sky is blue, and…
“I’m a curse on everyone around me.” Jimmy finished.
“Pretty much.” Grian popped the P. “But everyone needs a little curse to make it fun for the rest of us.” Grian smirked, flashing sharp teeth. “Thanks for providing it, Jim.”
“Oh, you are such—” Jimmy bristled, feathers fluffing, and then he whirled his head around, glowering straight at Grian. “At least when I kill the people I care about, it’s an accident.”
And oh, that was not a very good thing to say.
There was no immediate change in Grian. He didn’t even look over. His wings didn’t twitch, nor did his wing-shaped ears. The only change, perhaps, was that there was none. Was that he went so very, very still, with not even a breeze to rustle his feathers.
The change was like feeling the pressure drop in the atmosphere.
But he was Jimmy Solidarity, wasn’t he? He didn’t think about his damn actions, and he turned people bloodthirsty by his death. If not that, then by simply being him. Did they not just prove that?
“If I curse people with my absence,” Jimmy continued anyway, baring a tooth not nearly as sharp as Grian’s, “then you curse them with your presence.”
“That is rich,” Grian snapped his head down, inhumanly fast, and wings spread out. His eyes were narrowed. Were the stars scowling, too? “coming from someone who doesn’t even live to see it all. You don’t know what happened.”
“I can Watch,” Jimmy challenged, “or Listen. And I do. Shall I list the ways?” Jimmy held up his hand, mockingly counting off his fingers. “Couldn’t keep your teammates safe in any season, Bigb in Double Life, me and Mumbo in Last Life, oh, and who was it you killed in Limited and Third Life?” Jimmy hummed, hand to his chin, looking out in fake thought. “Actually, you caused it in Double Life, too, didn’t you?”
“Jimmy—”
“You must love Scar an awful lot,” Jimmy sneered, waving out his hand before crossing them over his chest, tilting his head back to mock Grian to his face, “if he’s always dead because of—”
And suddenly Jimmy’s collar was seized.
And suddenly, the night was blotted out by a wide, dark cloud of feathers. A dome, haunting and obscuring the moon itself. He could feel the pinpricks of claws through his shirt, of a talon bracing on his leg, threatening to dig in.
And suddenly, something that was never a true pair of eyes was seething, boring into his own. It made his eyes hurt, like looking at something too bright. They screamed for him to look away, from the things that weren’t eyes, and might be just too many, and the maw of fangs that were too wide for a head that small.
If he did not come from the same tree of these oddities as Grian, he was sure something would start to melt out of his skull. And he was certain Grian knew that.
“Watch. It.” Grian growled, bordering on a snarl, and his claws threatened to piece just a little more, giving Jimmy a shove, but still clinging to his collar.
That was the nail in the coffin. Because Jimmy could certainly be scared of Grian, everyone with a brain was, but he’d come to understand there was a difference in fear between people. One could be afraid of a friend launching at them for eating the last snack, but it was different from fearing, say, a murderer.
But Jimmy had died so many times he didn’t truly fear death. And Grian was a loose cannon. He didn’t have pinpoint accuracy. Everything he did was messy. Never permanent, not really. So what did Jimmy have to be afraid of, really?
It was the final nail, because this was as close to a confession that Jimmy would get. Of guilt, of a question that was never really asked, of something that everyone had been betting on since Third Life. Of something Grian would never say with his own mouth, not even if the Universe would tear itself asunder. He’d die with it, and take everyone else with him.
Jimmy was right.
In more ways than one, he was right.
And maybe he felt just a little sadistically proud about that. Grian did have a very strange way of showing his love.
“Don’t take criticism well,” Jimmy turned his head away with a sniff, though he couldn't rip his eyes away from Grian’s as much as he tried, “do you?”
“This is my game,” Grian warned, low and dark, “don’t think I can’t make an exception for you.”
“Like your exceptions with killing without real provocation?” Jimmy raised a brow. “Or when on green? Or Scar?”
Those claws sure felt like they were threatening to grab him by the throat. But he knew they wouldn’t. It was about the only thing he was sure on, aside from his own words.
“I was hit,” Grian hissed, mouth not really moving despite the words coming out clear, “those were Scar’s kills, and that reroll was a vote—”
“Methinks he protests too much—”
“I hope you die the most humiliating death imaginable.” Grian snapped, claws unwinding from Jimmy’s collar, shoving him so violently he nearly fell over, finally breaking away from that gaze and wheezing. Had he not been breathing? “And I hope it’s alone. And soon. No one will even have the chance to remember what you did in this game.”
“And I hope you kill your partner so bad nobody else wants to team with you!” Jimmy snipped, rubbing at his neck and pulling back to see little pinpricks of blood.
“I don’t have one.” Grian growled, and Jimmy looked up at him again. At where he was scowling, wings fully spread, a rather haunting sight if he didn’t know who he was.
“...so,” Jimmy had the smuggest, tiniest smile, “you’re just like me, then?” He sat up, the proudest man in possibly the whole server. “Don’t want to kill anyone else, do you?”
“I was busy.” Grian hissed, fluttering his wings. Just a little calmer.
“What, giving Scar another chance—?”
Grian reached out, snagging Jimmy’s shoulder—and promptly pushed him off the cliff.
Jimmy squawked, flailing wildly as all sense of direction left him. He scrambled, originally reaching for the cliff face before instead looking where he was falling. Wind rushed past him, roaring in his ears, and his small wings flapped frantically, doing nothing except mildly slowing his descent and sending him spinning.
He twisted to the left, and promptly hit the water side-first. Well, no, it was mostly his back. But it wasn’t a full back-flop, at least.
Bubbles rushed out around him, freezing water soaking through his skin. Jimmy blinked up at the surface, sinking slowly a few moments, processing the last few seconds.
He snarled into the water when he broke out of it, clawing and kicking out. He swam himself up, hands breaching first, head breaking free into the surface, throwing wet hair out of his face and crowing: “you prick!”
Somewhere, high above the cliff, he could hear a shrieking, cackling laugh. Echoing, like he suspected, as he swam and pulled himself up onto the rocky edges of the cliff, clothes clinging disgustingly to his skin, making him shiver. His feathers were plenty waterlogged.
Jimmy hissed, shaking out his wings, and already decided that if he was going to cause someone to die with him, it was going to be Grian. That way, they’d both fulfill their own curses.
But, more importantly, it’d piss Grian off. And, really, being a pain in the ass was their one shared goal in life, wasn’t it?
Maybe that was why they kept winding up on the same side. Not that Jimmy was ever going to analyze that.
Whatever, Grian wouldn’t accept anything to end if he wasn’t left believing he had the last laugh. Jimmy would let him have his false sense of security.
For now.