When Martyn walked out of one of the villager's houses, he was startled when he saw Etho leaning against the stone exterior of the house. He thought about saying something, but decided not to. Not all of the houses had bathrooms because the mobs never actually had to use them. He shrugged it off, figuring that there may have only been one or Etho didn't want to bother trying to find another. Thus, he kept walking.

"Martyn." Etho said, making Martyn stop and turn around.

"Yeah?" He asked. Maybe it was something about the way Etho was dressed, or about earlier, but this interaction had his skin almost crawling.

"You remind me of someone. Someone familiar." Etho replied, tilting his head down so stare directly into Martyn's eyes, almost as though he were staring into his soul. He had made it a statement, as though waiting for an admittance.

"Oh, well, that's interesting." Martyn replied, dismissing the issue as he began to retreat. Did Etho know? Well, he was an elf, so it wasn't impossible, but -- but Martyn didn't want that responsibility. He didn't want the reputation of prince in here. Everything else was hard enough.

But unfortunately for him, Etho followed right behind. "Your voice sounds just like his, you know. You have some of the same vocal mannerisms, you're an elf--"

"Yeah, yeah, I get that a lot." Martyn dismissed, picking up the pace. He didn't look back at Etho, but he could tell that the other elf was following him, matching his pace.

"Well that's funny, isn't it?" Etho asked, raising an eyebrow. "Because I never said who I was talking about, and yet you seem to know exactly who I am referring to. Why is that, Martyn Littlewood?"

That made Martyn stop in his tracks, just for a moment. At the same time, that moment said more than he could ever say to get himself out of this hole he found himself in. He hated it. He hated being here, but at the same time, he knew that he had been caught.

It also occurred to him that using an alias probably would have been helpful. If the others hadn't been here, he could have. (Actually, if Grian could request that they bury their past, couldn't he argue to be called an alias instead? But this realization in that moment would not help him anymore.) Even hiding his surname from everyone but Ren, Martyn was a little bit too on the nose.

He sighed. He could play the could have, should have, would have game all he wanted. Regardless, he could still feel the unnerving stare of Etho drilling into the back of his head, awaiting a response. He slowly turned around, lifting his gaze from the ground to Etho's eyes. It was hard to tell what he was feeling by the way his mask covered the lower half of his face. By him wearing that alone, Martyn should have predicted the outcome. Someone traditional enough to cover their mouths to conceal their words from the Watchers likely kept up with the Listener King and his alleged bastard son. "Alright, you caught me." He whispered, his eyes darting around them as though he didn't know that they were completely alone. "I'm-- I'm the prince."

And to his absolute horror, Martyn watched as Etho fell to one knee, his head hung low in respect and admiration. And in a loud voice, he exclaimed, "You're highness, it is an honor to--"

"S-stop that!" Martyn almost yelled, quickly yanking Etho back to his feet. No, he couldn't be treated like that again, didn't want to be. And Void, what if someone saw them like that?! Then everyone would know!

"What is it, your—" Etho tilted his head, his eyes reflecting confusion. A glare from Martyn shut him up again.

"Look, I just -- I just don't want everyone to know. I just... want to be Martyn, alright? Not some, you know..." He said, his gaze softening. It was the truth. He didn't want the pressure. He didn't want the attention. Selfishly, however, what he said should have been a lie. It should have been primarily the fact that it might have compromised his mission. That wasn't why.

Etho's gaze fell to his shoes for a few moments. Just as Martyn thought that the man wouldn't respond, he did. Meeting Martyn's gaze, he replied, "Don't worry. Your secret is safe with me. I won't utter a word to anyone else." And Martyn didn't need to be a mind-reader to know that Etho meant it with his full heart. He could breathe easy, for now.

♡『♡』♡

It seemed as though everyone had decided to spend the rest of the day in the village, as no one left after the meeting. Grian had stayed to collect his thoughts and try to ground himself out of the horrifying thought that the Watchers had found him and that this all was some sort of divine punishment. Martyn had told him that it wasn't, swore by it, even. At the same time, it certainly seemed to make sense. The pieces seemed to align in the sense that the people here had escaped fate or otherwise pissed off the Watchers in some way. Even if that wasn't true for every one of them, it certainly didn't feel like a coincidence that Grian was already friends with everyone here with exception to Scott and Joel.

In any case, he had just gotten himself out of that spiral. He didn't want to be thrown right back into it after wrestling with himself for an hour or two. He forced himself to wander the village, noticing all the chaos going on. It seemed that the Hermits were mostly sticking to each other. BigB, Jimmy, Scott and Joel, meanwhile, were together. It seemed that given the circumstances, everyone else were joking and having fun.

Maybe he should, too. Thinking back, sometimes a bit of mischief was all he needed to lift his spirits. Noticing that his presence seemed to not be missed, he slipped away. (They don't care about you, his subconscious whispered. He shrugged it off, trying his best to not read into it.) The element of surprise was on his side.

♡『♡』♡

After that confrontation, Martyn returned to the others. He trailed behind Etho, letting him go on ahead to join Bdubs and Cleo. He leaned against a building just out of sight of everyone and closed his eyes. He could hear the laughter of everyone like several broken melodies that clashed together. Each one beautiful, but a jumbled mess together. Yes, this was not like an elven or Listener settlement. He was among humanoids again. They simply didn't know the art of living in and through a song carried by all.

But among all the laughter, he couldn't help but notice that there was one whose tune was missing: Grian's. Either he wasn't around, or he wasn't laughing nor speaking. Something told him that it was the former.

Opening his eyes again, Martyn pushed himself off the structure and followed the voices of Big and Jimmy. With exception to his footsteps, he made no noise; didn't see the need to. When he came around a corner of a house, he saw them. Those two were talking to Scott and Joel, and they were too preoccupied to notice his presence.

Now, he could walk up and say hi. He could just be normal about it. Or, he could use it as an opportunity to gather information. Or, he could use it as a chance to act like an annoying brother. It had been far too long since he and Jimmy were together. Since he and any of the Evolutionists were together. It was completely reasonable to catch up with all the pranks he wasn't able to do for the past few centuries he realized. With that in mind, his choice was clear.

Taking out his communicator, Martyn scrolled through the various menus that had been modded in. He hadn't had too much time to really check if everything was still working until now, but it seemed as though it did. He lowered the volume and pressed it to his ear, clicking a button. When he heard the sound come through, a wicked grin grew on his face. Oh, that was perfect!

Sneaking up behind Jimmy, he raised the volume before replaying the sound right behind him. The recording of a creeper hissing sounded, and Jimmy just about jumped five blocks in the air, screaming. It wasn't just him, either. BigB yelled as he scrambled to get away and Joel did a full 360 as he scrambled to take out his shield. The only one who hadn't reacted was Scott, who immediately looked at Martyn, not in fear but closer to a parent glaring at a naughty child. Come to think of it, Martyn wasn't quite sure why he had expected only Jimmy to react, but this was much better! He couldn't help but barrel over in laughter, finding the sight nothing short but hilarious.

"Martyn!" Scott hissed, continuing to carry out the parental role apparently. "Don't just do that!"

"Well, why not?" Martyn asked, smirking as though to egg Scott on. Seeing Scott angry made him happy.

"What do you mean why not? There are plenty of reasons why not!" Scott replied.

"Ahh, don't worry about him, Scott." Jimmy said. His hand was still over his racing heartbeat, but the initial shock had worn off. "He may be mean--" A pause to stick his tongue out at Martyn. "-- But he is my brother. It's kind of his job to tease me." He sighed, rolling his eyes fondly.

"You got that right!" Martyn chuckled, lightly smacking his brother's back.

"Fine, fine. But don't let it happen again." Scott nagged, looking almost comical with the way he waved his finger. Well, comical to anyone but Martyn, anyway.

"I'll do whatever I feel like, Dad." Martyn rolled his eyes, his playfulness wearing down into a sudden urk. Martyn never was too fond of strangers, but Scott was a special case. He tried to take his brother. Did, rather. Thinking of that irked Martyn even more.

"What are you going to do? Play your lame joke on the entire server?" Scott asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Now guys—" Jimmy began to say, giving a nervous glance at BigB. The man silently placed a hand on Jimmy's shoulder and shook his head.

To Martyn, the answer was yes, if only to stick it to Scott's face. "Just you wait." he glowered before turning right back around and walking away towards the next nearest group of people. He felt the stares of the others, but he didn't care.

"Was—" Joel cleared his throat, "was he always like that?" 

"Yeah, he was," BigB confirmed. "Too stubborn for his own good and doesn't warm up to strangers very easily.

"Once you gain his trust though, you got it. He doesn't trust many people, but those he does, he would do anything for." Jimmy added on, knowing that better than anyone as Martyn's brother.

Martyn had heard it all, but he didn't slow down any. After all, BigB and Jimmy were right.

♡『♡』♡

It took Grian longer than expected to find what he had been looking for and bring it back to the village. Trailing behind him slowly was a creeper, its blank eyes locked onto him. Even after finding it, he still had to get all the way back to the village he had traveled way away from.

Now the village was in sight, but as he walked past the first house, he couldn't seem to find anyone. Strange. Could it be that they all left after he did? That would have really sucked. He frowned as he continued onwards, looking around in hopes that he'd spot even one person.

It took a few minutes, but finally, he had done it. He spotted Scar. The edge of his lip tugged upwards into a smirk as he got closer.

And, as he got closer and more in view, he realized Scar wasn't alone. Rather, it seemed that all or most of everyone was gathered in front of someone— Martyn— who was making some sort of speech atop a wooden box.

"First he pranks us all and now this?" He heard Cleo mutter to herself from the back of the crowd, pinching the bridge of her nose. She was standing beside Scar. Martyn only paused to laugh at her comment.

"Say what you will about me, but trust me, Renchanting is incredible! Just look at my armor." He replied, doing a spin. Grian barely paid him any mind, choosing instead to focus on the creeper that lingered behind him. He had to admit though, this was perfect. It was almost as though Martyn had made him just the most perfect distraction, right at the perfect moment. Now all he had to do was get the creeper close enough to hiss and then kill it before it did any damage.

He glanced back at the crowd. Tango, who was also in the back, had locked eyes with him and silently started backing away. No one else had noticed, except—

"Watch out for the creeper!" Martyn called, just in time for the creeper to start hissing and igniting. Some of the crowd scrambled back, while a few people didn't move at all. One such person was Scar.

Why did it have to be Scar?

In a deadly combination, the creeper no longer had its sights on Grian. Instead, it noticed Scar and pivoted towards him, just in time for its fuse to grow a little bit too short. Grian could only watch in horror as his little prank took a turn for the worst.

GoodTimeWithScar was blown up by Creeper. Two lives remaining.

For a few moments, everyone was too stunned to speak at what had just unfolded. Some stared at the new crater in the ground where Scar had just been standing moments ago. Some stared at their communicators, at the new message that had appeared on every one of their screens. Grian was one of the ones who stared at the former.

The first person to speak was Bdubs, who was staring at his comm. "Two lives remaining?!" He shouted. "What's that supposed to mean?! Is this a hardcore world or something?!"

"Hardcore?!" Impulse exclaimed.

"I can't be in hardcore! I die far too easily!" Jimmy mourned.

"Scar's going to be gone by tomorrow at this rate!"

"All of us are if we're going to stay here long enough!"

Quickly, everyone was shouting over each other with their worries. That was, everyone but Grian. He couldn't even tell who was speaking what anymore, and not just because of the amount of people speaking.

He had done this. He had killed his own best friend. And it wasn't just that either; Scar was the most accident prone and oblivious person he knew. That was the absolute worst person to do that to. "It— it was just a prank..." he argued to the voice that had asked him why he had to go and do that. (Come to think of it, it may have been his own conscience. He had messed up, but his friends would know that he didn't mean to... right?)

Bdubs snorted. "Yeah. It was just a prank, bro." He mimicked. Grian felt his stomach drop before Bdubs gave him a one-armed hug. "That's alright, G. There's no way you could have known. It could have been any one of us that would've done the same thing."

But it wasn't. It was Grian who had done it. Grian, who was pretty sure knew who was behind... whatever this was. Well, maybe not pretty sure. The fact that Martyn had been so insistent on the idea it wasn't lingered in the back of his mind.

He forced a smile, and a "thanks," even though he wasn't sure he believed Bdubs.

"Let's not forget that it wasn't just you, either," Scott said, catching the attention of a few others. "Martyn is quite literally the boy who cried creeper. He lowered everyone's guards with his practical jokes."

"Hey wait, yeah!" Bdubs exclaimed. He spun around, pointing at Martyn while yelling his name. Or rather, he pointed at the empty spot where Martyn had been standing just a minute ago. He must have left. "Wait— where did he go?"

With such a loud exclamation, it caught everyone's attention, and they all glanced around. Martyn was nowhere in sight.

"Well, that's convenient timing." Scott teased. Then, more seriously, "well, if he wants to be alone, let's let him be. He seems like the kind of person who needs their space."

♡『♡』♡

Martyn all but slammed the bathroom door shut. He hadn't even been subtle leaving the group. He blinked, and suddenly he was here. He knew his legs had ran him all the way here, but he had no real recollection of this. He just hoped in all the chaos, no one saw where he had gone. If they had, they at least didn't come after him right away. He waited a few moments, shifting foot to foot with impatience. No one came. Good.

He felt himself deflate, his posture becoming as timid and cowardly and broken as he felt. He swallowed, the wave of nausea hitting him like a sudden tsunami. He winced at the vile taste of vomit that burned the back of his throat.

As his stomach twisted, he knew that he only had a few moments before— he dashed to the sink and gripped the sides. He instinctively swallowed his food down again.

Just how he could do that? How could he be so stupid? To let himself get swept away in the idea of such a stupid prank? He got someone killed! He had got someone-!

The vomit rushed back up, and this time he couldn't keep it back. It all came out at once in a roar that left Martyn shaking. He bit his quivering lip, trying to keep it together. The next wave hit him a moment later. He threw up a second time. Then a third immediately after.

He gripped the sink tightly, waiting. In a way, the waiting to know whether or not there would be more was the worst part. He heaved as he waited, forcing his eyes closed so he wouldn't have to stare at the mess that he had made and make himself feel that much sicker.

When Martyn was sure that his stomach was fine, or as sure as one could be in this belothed scenario, he stood up. He still held onto the sink for balance, but his grip loosened so he wasn't pouring all his strength into it.

His eyes met his reflection's.

He was so disgusting that he winced. His skin was pale, his blonde bangs were matted down with sweat and he had some leftover vomit around his mouth.

He was disgusting. Even his hands crawled with that horrible feeling he got whenever he got his hands dirty and needed to wash them. They were sparkled with a little bit of vomit too, especially after he wiped his mouth with the back of his right hand. It wasn't just that, however. The dirtiness came from something far more sinister. When he closed his eyes, he could almost feel the sticky, slimy, wet blood dripping down his elbows to his forearms, collecting at his palms.

When he opened his eyes, there was no blood, not even a trace, but the feeling didn't go away. There might as well have been blood. Not just because of the feeling, but also why the feeling was there in the first place. Martyn had killed someone. Again. Maybe he hadn't stabbed them, or shot them through the heart with an arrow, but he had led someone directly to their death. And in this world, it meant something. It bloody meant something.

He needed it off. The feeling, the blood, the way his skin crawled. He turned on the sink, turning the knob as far as it could go. He put his hands under the water. He cursed at the way it burned him. He had set it far too hot. Nonetheless of the way his hands seared with pain, he made no attempt to readjust the temperature to a more suitable warmth. Moving his arms, he got them wet to the point just above his elbow. It was at this point that his fair skin had begun to turn red; red like blood. He glared at them in disgust. At least now they matched what he was feeling.

Taking the bar of soap, be began to scrub just like he had back then. He started scrubbing his hands first. He put so much pressure into the soap that Martyn was almost surprised that it didn't snap right in half. He scrubbed and scrubbed until he could have sworn that he saw some of his skin flake off.

It stung. It hurt. But at the same time, it wasn't enough! Not for the idiot he was. Not for what he had done. He really wasn't a good person after all, he had failed, he had failed, he really wasn't a good person, just an overly celebrated fool. A fuckboy. They were right, they were all right, they were always right.

He moved to his wrists and his forearms, scrubbing with even more ferocity. The feeling of blood didn't lessen any. It wasn't enough, he had to cleanse his sins. Make up for his mistakes. This was the way to do that.

The universe was basically doomed because of him. How was it that when everything depended on him, no matter how much he worked and sacrificed, it wasn't enough?

Would he ever see Netty again? No, not if he kept this up. Not if he bloody kept this up. And even if he did everything he could, he still wouldn't measure up.

Failure. Failure. Failure. Loser. Stupid. Failure. Maybe he really was just a fuckboy—

His racing thoughts slammed to a halt when he heard movement behind him. Faint, but something there. Instinctively he spun around, the bar of soap clattering to the floor and sliding away. "Who's there?!" He asked, but no one was there. The only thing that had been there was a single white feather that was just sliding to the floor. Confused, he went to pick it up. 

Martyn shoved his emotions to the side. He couldn't force himself to be happy, but he could turn off his heart. Abandon the teaching of his people. It was for the greater good.

"I know you're there." He said again. He waited for a response.

'I'm sorry to have startled you. The king sent me to help you.' A voice explained in his mind. It had to be a Listener, Martyn knew. As for the voice, it was mostly androgynous; slightly more feminine than masculine, but not exactly either. It was a voice that Martyn had never heard before.

His eyes narrowed as he forced his body to not start shaking. Whether they were a loyalist or rebel, it would be a headache dealing with them. "My father never mentioned sending in outside help." He commented, not hiding the suspicion in his voice.

'There was no time to explain. He wanted to help himself, but given his condition...' The voice trailed off, as though to silently say that it should remain unspoken. And although the rumors had already spread like wildfire, Martyn didn't blame them for not wanting to say it outright. They were probably right in doing so. So instead, he nodded.

"Right." He agreed. He wasn't so sure he bought it. He couldn't read their mind, but some part of him was at least a little suspicious. Not that he would admit that; he would act reassured. So instead, he grinned. "Tell me, stranger. How do you address me?"

'Why, Prince of course!' The voice chuckled, as though it were almost silly to ask. 'Although, from what I gather, you seem to prefer Martyn instead. Would that be better?'

Martyn smiled, for real that time. While he may not be sure of this person, they at least were loyalist and not a pain in the ass. "You're perceptive. Yes, I'd like that. And what should I call you?"

The Listener stayed quiet for a few moments. 'Do names really matter?'

Martyn furrowed his brow. "Yes?" He asked more than stated. What kind of question was that?

'Oh.' The voice responded. They stayed quiet for a few moments. 'I... don't exactly have one. People have called me all sorts of things, but they escape me now.' Their voice seemed sincere enough. Even beyond that, it would be such an odd lie to attempt, much less think of in the first place. Because of that, Martyn's expression relaxed. Maybe they were like the King or the Great Ones; virtually nameless.

"Certainly there must be something I can call you? Even a title is fine." He pressed. The voice stayed quiet. That was a no, then. He frowned at that. "Well... okay. What about your pronouns?"

'Anything is fine.' They responded. It was, in fact, a definite answer, so Martyn would accept it.

"Got it." Martyn replied. A pause. "So how exactly—"

'Someone is coming. I will communicate with you later.' The voice said.

Martyn could have sworn he saw something move in the corner, and so he quickly looked over there. There was nothing, however. It was as though the shadows themselves moved. And like a shadow, the Listener seemed to have vanished, as though it were never there. Martyn couldn't quite put it into words, but he could feel it. She was gone.

He hadn't much time to dwell on that, however, because it was only a few moments later that he heard footsteps approaching. Shit, she really had been right. He glanced at his reflection is the mirror, and he found that he was in presentable. He rushed over to the sink and quickly splashed water at his face to try and clean himself up more. It wasn't perfect, but it would have to do because a knock came at the door.

"Martyn, my dude, you okay in there?" Ren's voice asked from the other side.

"Just finishing up!" He called back, a bit too quickly to sound natural. He silently kicked himself the moment following, having realized his mistake. There wasn't any time to worry about that now, he realized as he quickly threw water at the puke stains to wash them down. He had no time to try and mask the retched smell, instead rushing over to the door and all but throwing it open.

As expected, Ren stood there. His eyes scanned Martyn, his nose twitching slightly as he did so. "Are you sure you're okay?" He asked, the look in his eyes saying that he already knew the answer was no.

"Yeah, I just— yeah." Martyn nodded before he pushed past the other and out of that dreaded house. 

"Well alright then," Ren responded, suddenly sounding much more happy. Martyn could tell by the noises Ren was making that he had followed right behind. "Let's get back to the others, then."