ЭАБОРОНЕНА

---〘⇯〙---

pax can remember something. its a mirage of a memory, floating between this moment and the next, a trick of the mind (or not).

they can remember an endless black-grey road, heat rising in waves, distorting their view. they can remember signs and metal fences, of spiked wire. they can make out the signs.

there are two languages, each faded and rusted and tarnished with age.

they were both warnings.

one was to stay away, that the area was dangerous, deadly.

one said that hell had come, and they lived in it.

〘⇯〙

pax woke up. they let out a quiet sigh, glancing out the window at the landscape that always seemed to be tinted red now, coloring the snow and the icy ocean with a red-dimmed tide. they drew on the fur coat that tubbo had give them. it was a little big, the hem draping to their mid-shin rather than their thighs. 

something moved on the horizon. they glanced out from behind the heavy drapes, finding tubbo sitting on a bench, watching the ocean wash in shards of ice.

they hurried out the door, feet crunching the harsh snow beneath them. tubbo turned to glance at them. he said nothing, only turned the flower petal he held in his hand over and over, the only soft thing in the outdoors.

"couldn't sleep?" they asked softly. there was a jukebox playing softly, chirping out a sweet tune through the damaged speakers. it slowed at some points, distorted. pax doubted the record would ever play the same again.

"no," came tubbo's short answer. they stood in silence a moment longer before tubbo spoke again. "its just-" he stuttered to a halt, like the broken record that played in a field of flowers. "i couldn't..... save him."

him.

tommy.

pax knew very little of him, only what ranboo had told them, along with a warning not to mention him to tubbo. tubbo's breaths were shaky. "he was in there for a week! i could've- i could've done something. i- i-"

his breath came in short gasps. tears ran down his flushed face. pax opened their arms and embraced him, murmuring quiet reassurances. "i don't think there was much you could've done. from what ranboo told me about the prison, and about sam...." they trailed off as another sob wracked tubbo's body. "tubbo, there was no way you could've known. but you can make sure no one else you love is hurt." tubbo sniffled, his breathing calming.

"really?" his voice was barely a whisper.

"you have more power than anyone else on the smp. technoblade has nothing in terms of weapons compared to you." tubbo watched a snowflake dance to the ground in gentle pirouettes, only to be crushed underfoot as pax shifted.

"everyone knows i won't use them. they can still hurt-" his voice heightened and wavered, a dangerous dance on grief's knife edge. "-they can still kill people."

pax let out a quiet hum. "so show them that you will use them."

tubbo pulled away. "what?" he furrowed his brows.

"one nuke. a warning shot. it shows them that you aren't someone to be provoked."

it...

it made sense. it shows the server who has the real power, who's finger is always on the trigger. but it was out of nowhere.

"i'll-i'll consider it." the cold in snowchester was starting to get to him; he was becoming numb.