Me watching one(1) singular video about dialogue: Oh yeah. I am gonna write so good 2nite

RECAP

      Soon enough, Steven was shivering again. It took a long while for him to stop, his body finally warming to a proper temperature. Part of this feat was due to Herobrine being used as a giant hot water bottle – Steven's entire body was draped over his, and the god could feel his creation's skin and blood gleefully stealing warmth for itself.

      Before long, even Herobrine felt the beckon of sleep, weariness pressed down upon him. Being in the Nether, starved of his own mind for so long, he hadn't realized how much it had truly affected him. Now that the voice was silent and his thoughts were clear and level...

      He almost felt... grateful to his creation.

      A soft sigh passed through his lips, making Steven shift, and Herobrine's hand rose to press against his lifting head, stilling the soldier's movement, ensuring he remained asleep, resting.

      Yes... this feeling was akin to gratefulness, even guilt. Perhaps he could one day express it to Steven...

      Herobrine finally tugged the strap over his own eyes, letting his body fall into a trance, healing.

END RECAP

~ Brothers ~

      Something warm shifted beneath Steven's head, and he grumbled softly, drawing an arm up to wrap around the... pillow, to hold it still.

      It took a few minutes for him to remember that pillows didn't have a double heartbeat.

      He jolted, pushing the warm body away in his panic. Blurry forms and colors bled into one another before his eyes, and he drew a hand back to rub at his eyes and wince.

      "So this is the thanks I get for warming you all night," the voice of Steven's companion god rumbled to life right in front of the soldier, startling him even more. He sat up straight, choking on stirred dust and the smells of musty hay.

      "No I..." cough, "-what?"

      The blur cleared a little with a few strong blinks, and the inside of a dimly-lit barn greeted his eyes when he finally managed to pry them open. A quick glance beside him revealed a disgruntled Herobrine, who was reclining on a few hay bales, a strip of leather over his eyes. His downturned mouth revealed exactly what he thought of Steven's wriggling and shoving.

      "I... sorry, Hero."

      A grunt was all he received in answer, accompanied by a flick of the god's still-mutilated hand. Steven managed to keep a dull retort to himself, eyes flicking towards the cracks in the barn's walls, where silver light filtered through. The cold was... quite noticeable without the added warmth of Herobrine. Was that warmth... natural? Would it be odd if he tried to move nearer to take advantage–

      The god shifted beside Steven, an arm stretching out to brush a few bits of hay from his hip, "Ware of your thoughts, Steven. I suggest you find ways to guard your mind's tongue, lest it anger the creature in my head."

      Steven's gaze snapped back to Herobrine, "What?"

      A brow raised slightly from beneath the blindfold, "Do you not remember? Ever since I realized what you were, I have found myself more and more able to access your thoughts," Herobrine's hand, still marred with raw, healing flesh from lava burns, stretched out again, flicking Steven gently in the forehead. The soldier swatted at it in return, "I thought I'd told you about it."

      "You... might've," Steven muttered, beginning to brush at the scraps of hay adorning him, prickling the bare skin of his back, "Your ah... access hasn't faded with our separation?"

      "Nay... I'd like to think it has become stronger since our exit from the Nether. Something about that hellscape drowned any thought... any attempt to think."

      What an unnerving sentiment... His once-tormentor now free to access his thoughts once again. Steven shuddered a little, lifting his hands to rub vigorously at his upper arms for warmth, "W-where are we?"

      "A barn."

      "Thanks."

      Herobrine's brow raised at the curt response, "The barn is located in a human village, one in a terribly desolate area. There are humans moving around within their homes, and I sense some have even gone outside, the blizzard is fading. I suspect these humans rely on tough livestock they have bred for these winters," a nod towards the dimmer part of the barn, where animal breaths whooshed lowly, and tails swished and cloven hooves stamped, "would you like more?"

      "No, I - Actually, yes. Can Notch sense us? Is he comin' to kill me and toss you back?"

      A low hum, "Your concern for our shared survival is admirable," he shifted once more, growling something about the hay poking him, "as far as I know, my brother knows not of our arrival here... That portal's location was an unseen stroke of luck."

      "Luck... why come?"

      "The... mountains are of similar construction as the ones you met me in," Herobrine's voice grew quieter, "the immense amounts of shale are keeping my and my brother's power signature scattered and unreadable..." his thoughts drifted, as did his voice as he began to ponder the fortune of their escape. Luck was pushing it. This happenstance was extremely fortunate, suspiciously so. Of course, in mathematical terms, their stumbling could have been pure chance, pure luck.

      ...or some sort of calculated guess. Had he traveled in the direction of this portal by chance alone?

      Or had the thought been placed there by a hand that was not his own?

      "Hero?"

      "What."

      "Do you happen t' have–"

      Herobrine's hand shot over his mouth, and Steven jerked, voice stolen from his throat.

      "Hush... there are humans nearing."

      Steven jerked his head back, escaping the hand, "What d' I say?"

      "Let me do the speaking."

      "With that voice??"

      The look of disapproval Steven instantly received at his hissed doubt made him swallow an apology, "I find it amusing you think I cannot disguise my voice."

      "Well, you're not disguising your eyes."

      The line between Herobrine's brows grew more apparent, and he seemed almost defensive when he spoke again, "I... am limited in the disguises I can use for my eyes. Often they glow in dim light, despite what I do to suppress it."

      Ah, that was why he'd insisted on the blindfold, then.

      Disgruntled at his admission of weakness, Herobrine touched a finger to his lips, "They are nearing..." His voice rasped, and he cleared his throat once, twice.

      "Here - aghck... How,", another slight cough, "mmh, How is this."

      Steven gaped at him. It was almost like he was hearing himself, albeit slightly deeper.

      "Can you still hear the–"

      "Echo? No it's... it's gone. You sound exactly like m-"

      A dull boom echoed through the barn, and the sounds of scraping, scrabbling hands made Steven flinch, head whipping around to stare at the widening gap of light between the doors.

      "We are brothers who were foolishly exploring caves and became lost. We emerged not far from here and ran into the barn in the blizzard. We took shelter for warmth, and will leave as soon as the weather allows," Herobrine hissed at Steven, and the soldier glanced back, nodding.

      "Right... exploring with my blind brother."

      Herobrine growled, and Steven's lips sealed once more. Inwardly, he felt quite strange. He'd never had a brother... and this situation was hardly safe enough to practice. His creator would be his acting brother.

      His creator, captor... his other half.

      Steven's hand lifted to rub at his forehead. Ugh, all this situational and emotional whiplash was getting far too difficult to sort out in his own head.

      "A-and your, your hands, Brine."

      "Lava pool."

      "You could jus' drink that extra potion–"

      The door to the barn burst open, and silver-white light filled the dark barn, causing Steven to jerk, his hands flying up to cover his face, his eyes squeezing shut.

      A few pairs of boots crunched in, as did muffled laughter, "...Da, I'm sure th' poor things are starvin'–"

      The voice cut off, and the heavy steps slowed, ceasing as well.

      A gruffer voice replaced the earlier one, "Who goes there? Who are ye?"

      Steven was still trying to get his eyes used to the light, wincing when he tried to look into the blinding white, "Uh–"

      "We are here by accident," Herobrine's voice beat him to it, and Steven felt a light kick land on his ankle, as though Brine was reminding him to be quiet, "We were lost in the tunnels in the mountains and wandered out into the blizzard by chance. Your barn kept us alive."

      "In th' tunnels eh? It ain't minin' season," a gesture with a large hand that appeared only as a warped shadow, "an' ye both are wearin' a pitiable amount o' clothing for this weather."

      "We... were exploring," Steven butted in, finally able to lower his hands and squint into the silvery light, "The ah... the caves were warm."

      "What'r your names, young'ns?"

      "He is Steven, I am called... Bryn."

      "Well, Bryn, Steven, I s'pose it's time for ye two t' be going–"

      "Da," the same younger voice from before butted in, quiet, "all the passes are sure to be piled with snow by now... They'd get caught in the next storm."

      Steven blinked hard a few more times, and, finally, he could see two forms blocking some of the light from outside. One was wider, shorter, and one thick hand rested on his hip. The other was only slightly taller, and his thick clothes and boots made him look far too bulky for his height.

      Beside him, Herobrine scowled, sitting up a little straighter. If these humans refused to shelter them... it would be far more difficult to keep Steven alive and warmed. Perhaps he ought to threaten them a little–

      "I-I have gold," Steven spoke up quickly, interrupting his train of thought, "it's only a little, but I'd be willing to pay for a little food and shelter. My ah... my brother– his hands are hurt, so's my side."

      Herobrine grumbled softly, pulling his hands nearer as a cold gust of wind brushed through the barn, touching his stinging, healing flesh. He'd nearly forgotten his own wounds.

      "Please... We would be in your debt, but I will give what I have and earn what I cannot afford."

      A beat of silence passed, then two, and Steven bit his lip when he saw the older man glance at his son and mutter softly.

      Herobrine overheard the murmur, and his jaw quirked slightly. Perhaps Steven had a better way with words than he.

      "It would be cruel to send you out as you are, in need of food and care," the younger man finally spoke again, slowly, "right, Da?"

     'Da' looked irked, but he sighed roughly, "Aye, it would. But I don' like housin' wanderers I know nothin' about."

      "The barn is sufficient–" Herobrine started.

      "Not fer people who're bleedin' from the hands. Both 'f you, up. Let me lookat you an' see your things."

      Steven stood quickly, wincing slightly, reminded of his early training days as a footsoldier. Up, respectful, look straight ahead.

      Herobrine pushed himself upright in Steven's peripheral, expression sour. The strap around his face didn't do much to hide his thoughts, but Steven breathed a prayer of thanks to Notch that it at least covered the glow of the god's eyes.

      "Our ah... belongings are in a satchel there," Steven thumbed behind himself, and a weight bumped his lower leg. In a moment of panic, he realized his sword was still strapped at his hip. Being military-issued, it bore the emblem of Notch.

      And it would undoubtedly lead to questions.

      Getting rid of it was out of the question, the older man was heading towards them already. Besides, without it, he'd be putting himself and 'Bryn' in... a rather vulnerable position.

      "I see ye have a sword."

      The comment snapped Steven from his quiet brainstorming, "What?"

      A thick, leather glove gestured, "If yer t' be under my roof, I won't have ye carryin' that around."

      Steven's hand drifted down to the handle, settling just over the emblem on the hilt, "Oh... yes ah, sir. Could I stow it in the hay?"

      "Nay, I will store it for ye until ye leave."

      A moment's hesitation, and Steven heard Herobrine huff at his side. His tensed shoulders lowered a little, and he quickly undid his sword-belt, holding the dangling sheath out to the man. Without much ceremony, the sword was taken and tucked under a thick arm, and Steven's satchel was snatched up as well, "Aegon, check their pockets."

      Herobrine made a sound of protest, but the elder's stern voice drowned it out, "Now then, I won't have ye complainin'. We've seen rough folk pass this way before, an' I won't have my missus and little ones comin' into harm's way."

      Steven turned out his pockets for the lad, and allowed him to check about his belt and boots for knives. Herobrine was... considerably less clothed than Steven, he escaped the search with a mere pat around his waistline.

       "You both look like ye got through something fierce," The boy commented, brushing soot from his hands skeptically, "How did you manage to get so much–"

      "Lava pool," was Herobrine's curt response. The boy shrugged, seeming to accept the explanation.

       "They're good, Da. Want me t' tell Ma there's company?"

      "Aye, an' send Isa here with our spare cloaks," a pointed, skeptical look at Herobrine's bare feet, "An' a pair of your old boots."

      "Right," The lad was gone in a moment. The older man ambled over to a wooden table set against one wall of the barn, strewn with half-finished carving projects and tools. Steven's confiscated sword was tossed upon it quite unceremoniously, and the man began rifling through the satchel, pulling out Steven's supplies and inspecting them. A potion bottle, gold nuggets, an ender's pearl (that earned Steven a raised eyebrow) and the tattered, scorched remains of Steven's cloak and the shirt he'd hastily removed upon entering the Nether.

      The shirt was tossed over, it landed neatly atop Steven's head, "Put that on," the cloak followed it, "that too, ye'll need it in th' cold out there."

      Steven grunted quietly, hurriedly stripping the shirt and cloak from his head and struggling into them.

      "Are you planning to take all his valuables?" Herobrine's voice rumbled, a warning in its tone. He received a flat look.

      "Nay, I am no thief. I'll take the gold promised, ye can keep the other trinkets."

      "Good."

      Steven's head popped out from the shirt, "Hero, it's fine. We should be grateful they even let us use the barn."

      "Hmph."

      "This is one of those drinks eh? From th' Nether," The rougher voice spoke again, and Steven glanced up as he fastened his soot-covered cloak about his shoulders.

      "Ah... yes. I bought it 'n case something went uh," he glanced over to Herobrine, who was now holding a piece of straw in one hand, making it smoke a bit, "...went wrong. Could H– my brother drink it? It would help his hands."

      "Course," the older man rummaged a bit more, then packed away the supplies and tossed it back to Steven. The soldier quickly found the potion, popped the cork, and bumped Herobrine's knuckles with the cool glass, "He–Bryn? Here, drink this."

      He received a look of warning, not at all masked by the mask, "You should keep it... just in case," he emphasized his point with a slight kick to Steven's shin.

      "We'll be fine here, your ha–"

      "I will argue this no further with you."

      Steven scoffed, corking and stowing away the potion with a sigh, "Very well..."

      A crunch and scrape of boots on snow made all three heads turn, "Da, I've got the cloaks, Ma says breakfast is near done, plenty for all."

      "Thank ye, Aegon. You boys get bundled up, then we'll get ye to the house and cared for proper."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Me coming up with solutions to the constant, glaring plot holes and inconsistencies: oh yeah, it's all coming together