BLIND | DreamSMP

III - Refuge / The Cottage

At least, that was what Dream had thought.

Apparently Tommy still had some of his spirit left, enough to attack Dream. His head still ached from the hammer Tommy had swung at him. Dream would normally have been able to dodge such a clumsy attack, but he hadn't expected it.

His mask was still cracked; he'd need to repair it or find a new one soon. Hopefully the blindness would remove the last of Tommy's pesky spirit, and turn him into a blank sheet for Dream to scribble his own narrative on.

Dream made it across the bridge, and hopped inside the shimmering purple portal. When he stepped out, he was back in the overworld, Tommy's tent in sight.

He walked towards it, expecting to see Tommy; but when he ducked inside, no one was there. Dream frowned, and headed back out. Where could Tommy be? He called the boy's name, stretching out the 'o' to make it more playful. There was no response.

Dream continued to wander the area, occasionally yelling Tommy's name. Eventually Dream ended up back at the tent, with no Tommy.

Where was he? Could he have gone into the nether? It was certainly a possibility, but Tommy was smart enough to know that he couldn't possibly survive in that hostile environment with his current gear.

It was obvious that the boy had run away, and it seemed more likely that Tommy would have stayed in the overworld rather than traveling to another dimension. Dream groaned and stood up. It would be a long night, spent scavenging around for some sign of Tommy, but by morning he should have an idea of where he had run away to.

Dream strode out of the tent and turned to the dense woods. He'd start there.

Tommy certainly couldn't have run far.

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The snow crunched under his feet, making a satisfying noise that Tommy might have enjoyed if he wasn't exhausted and getting more worried by the minute. It was almost completely dark and he still hadn't found the village, and every second spent wandering the freezing tundra was another second of sight wasted.

Flurries of snow rained down, heavy and thick, coating Tommy's eyelashes and hair with frost. There couldn't be much time before he lost his vision to the potion completely.

Tommy's stomach twisted and flopped, anxiety bubbling in his chest. He frantically scanned the horizon, searching for the pinpricks of light signaling a village, but none appeared.

Tommy wanted to lay down in the snow and cry until his tears froze on his face.

He tried to pull himself together; he would find the village. He was sure of it.

He didn't want to think about what would happen if he couldn't, and was left alone in the cold, blind, freezing, and alone.

Tommy began a weary trudge up the next hill, moving slowly. His nose and cheeks were bright red, his toes and fingers were completely numb, and the biting cold had sunk its fangs into his whole being, gnawing at any bits of exposed flesh.

Tommy crested the hill, and looked up in defeat, already expecting to see more empty landscape, but his eyes widened in shock, gazing in wonder at a small house nestled in the snow.

The lights were off; no one appeared to be home.

Tommy stumbled down the hill, making his way towards the house. It wasn't as good as a village, but beggars couldn't be choosers, and it looked cozy.

He was halfway up the stone stairs leading to the front doors when the potion hit him without warning, and he toppled over, banging his elbow on the wall as he fell, darkness spreading over his vision like spilled ink.

Tommy lay in a crumpled heap on the stairs, breathing fast. He had known it would happen, but it was still surprising and scary.

After a few minutes, Tommy felt ready to stand up again, which was a mistake. It was extremely disorienting, moving without sight, and he fell back down almost immediately.

He waited a moment before trying again, holding a hand to the wall in an attempt to keep himself steady, and slowly climbed the remaining stairs, carefully placing his feet to avoid tripping or falling again.

He made it to the doors, and searched for the knob, which he found after two or three tries. Tommy turned the knob, which was cold, and slipped inside.

It was much warmer in the house, and Tommy walked forward a few steps, trying to figure out the layout of the room. He stretched out his arms and turned in a circle, testing to see whether his fingertips touched anything.

His question was answered when his hand caught unexpectedly on something and knocked it over. There was a sound of glass shattering, then something else snapping, and finally another shattering sound.

Tommy drew his arms in, feeling a bit guilty about the accidental destruction. He retreated a few steps, and felt the wall behind him, large and reassuring. He inched his way along it, trying to be more careful. There was something on the wall, and when Tommy investigated further, running his fingers along it, he discovered it was a ladder.

Tommy considered staying where he was, but he wanted to explore some more. He climbed up it slowly, scared that he might fall off of it and break his arm. Tommy reached the end of the ladder and lifted himself carefully into a new room. This room had a soft carpet, and smelled faintly of lavender.

Tommy inspected the rest of the room, and while knocking over and occasionally breaking various items, found a bookshelf, which wasn't much use to him, a table with an assortment of knickknacks, though he didn't know exactly what they were, and a desk scattered with papers of sorts. There was a bottle of something on the desk, and when he accidentally knocked it over a sticky liquid spilled out, staining Tommy's hands. To rid himself of the substance Tommy smeared it on his face and the other surfaces near him, possibly ruining a book or two.

Tommy found the bed last and collapsed into it immediately, kicking off his worn out shoes and burrowing under the blankets, still fully dressed. He was so tired and the room was warm and he was finally safe. Tommy's eyes slipped close as he fell into a deep sleep.