Lost Soul

Chapter 6: Help Can't Come Soon Enough

"What's so funny?" he chuckled, as her laughter was contagious. Ranboo looked concerned.

"Me," Mellohi choked out. Phil shook his head in amusement, a smile dancing on his face.

"Alright, kid," he said, placing a hand on Mellohi's back to calm her. "Easy, now."

Slowly but surely, Mellohi calmed down.

Straightening to her full height, up to Ranboo's shoulders, she cocked her head at him. "Sebi told me you could be an outcast."

"What?" Ranboo's face contorted into one of confusion. "Who's Sebi? And what do you mean, 'outcast'?"

"Oh, Sebi is short for Sebastian," Mellohi responded. "He's one of my voices. And as for what an outcast is...."

She spread her arms out, spinning once. "It's me! I'm an outcast!"

Ranboo still looked very bumfuzzled. Mellohi drooped.

"An abandoned Enderman?" she quizzed. "A deformation? An Enderman who doesn't act quote-unquote 'normal'? Are none of these ringing a bell?"

He scratched the back of his neck. "I kind of have memory problems," he admitted. "So if I was, as you say, an outcast, then I wouldn't remember."

Mellohi pondered over this for a moment. "But you are an Enderman, yes?"

"Mhm," Ranboo nodded. "Half, actually."

"Lavender, you were right," Mellohi muttered, still staring at Ranboo. He looked to Phil for help, and, thankfully, Phil got the message.

"Okay, Mellohi," he murmured, "that's enough." He then turned to Ranboo, sinking into a slight bow. "I'm terribly sorry for the trouble. Thank you for the clothes. I'll be sure to pay you later."

"Oh no, it's alright," he replied, flustered. "Keep them. I've grown out of them, anyway."

Phil clutched the garments to his chest, and took Mellohi's hand. "Thank you again, Ranboo."

"Anytime, Phil," he responded.

:-:-:-:-:-:

Phil finished wiping up the blood on the floor, laying old sheets and towels down, and throwing the bloody ones away. He beckoned Mellohi into his home, making sure she only stepped on the cloth path he made. The blood on her garments had fully dried, but Phil couldn't be too sure. He made sure the new clothes were in the bathroom before allowing her in. Phil busied himself by cleaning up the towels whilst she changed.

"Where do you want me to put my old clothes?" came Mellohi's voice from behind. Phil spun around to see her in her new outfit, her old in outstretched arms. It was a simple white tunic, a black wrap around her waist, and puffy indigo pants.

"It looks nice on you," Phil complimented, a familiar sense of pride warming his chest. One he hadn't felt in quite a while. His grin faltered as he got lost in the memories.

When Phil's eyes clouded over, and his smile faded, Mellohi could only assume he was remembering. She knew that feeling well.

Dropping her soiled clothes in the pile Phil made, she nervously crept over to him. Without saying a word, Mellohi took his hand. That thrust him out of his trance, but she still led him over to the bed on the far wall. Making sure all the crows were out of the way, Mellohi motioned for him to sit.

"I know that look in your eyes all too well," she murmured, her careless demeanor replaced by that of sensible worry. "Would you like to tell me about it?"

Phil, stunned, shook his head. "The memories are too fresh." A single tear slid down his cheek. Mellohi reached up to brush it away. The hiss of her burning skin tickled their ears.

"Please don't cry. I know we've only met mere hours ago, and not in the most pleasant way, so I understand if you don't trust me yet." She gazed down at a crow that landed in her lap. "Perhaps, to get your mind off your remembrance, you could give me a tour of this place. What was it called?"

"L'Manburg," Phil murmured. "You are very kind, Mellohi. I'm grateful for that."

"I'm glad," she simply stated.

Just as he was rising to his feet, a small portion of his murder crashed into the window. Frantically, he thrust it open, letting the crows come fluttering in. By the way they entered, Mellohi could tell they were agitated.

"What is it?" Phil asked the birds, anxiety laced through his voice. He went silent, seeming to be listening to the birds. Mellohi wondered what it was like to be able to understand the crows, curious as to how their voices would sound. She glanced down at the one in her hand.

"What would you sound like?" she wondered aloud, bringing the bird up to her eye level.

"Five!?" Phil half-shouted. "There are five this time!?"

"Five what?" Mellohi questioned.

Phil stared at her, worry bubbling in the crow-hybrid's eyes. "Five humans from across the border. And they're alive! The one's that came before had drowned!"

"I thought they were just myths!" Mellohi exclaimed, tail twitching energetically.

"I guess not," Phil replied somberly. "They've found a camp of some sorts in the woods."

Mellohi's blood ran cold. "Oh no," she whispered.

"What is it?" Phil inquired.

"That's my camp," she fretted, knowing instantly what he meant. "My best friend is still there! I promised I'd get a flower pot so I could bring him wherever I go, but then I began to Enderwalk, and now I won't ever be able to see Stal again!"

"Hey!" Phil snapped his fingers, gaining her attention. Her strange words went right over his head. "It's okay. I don't think they've hurt your friend yet. They're still about a week out, so it'll be a while before they reach us. For now, let's take a walk to get our minds off this mess."

Mellohi nodded miserably as she allowed him to guide her out of his house. The sun had just disappeared below the horizon. Her stomach audibly rumbled, and Phil chuckled.

"Perhaps we should get you some food as well. The SMP is most beautiful at night, anyway."

And with that, they began Mellohi's formal tour of the DreamSMP.