Between the Lines of Fear and Blame

Some sort of window to your right

As he goes left and you stay right

Between the lines of fear and blame

You begin to wonder why you came

"I won't, I swear on Herobrine I will not harm you this eve." Eret holds a hand to their ruffled shirt-covered chest, glancing around to make sure they are alone.

The man wore the same clothes as before his death, including the yellow sweater shorn open over the mortal wound that killed him. A long brown coat, more patches and rough sewing than clean fabric, fluttered in the breeze while they stared each other down. A cloud-white strand of white curled down overtop his golden circular glasses, something different than before.

Taking a deep breath, Eret makes a decision and takes a single step, arms wide in a non threatening pose. "I cannot promise the same of the others who will come looking or the mobs who will start to appear soon. Come back to my castle, it's the closest and no one will expect you to be there until you decide what you are going to do next."

Wilbur's expression morphs to thought before one nod, gesturing to the Monarch. "Alright, lead the way."

Before they move closer they speak once more, wanting to reassure the man who was acting like a terrified mouse. Constantly glancing over his shoulder, Eret observed the differences between the prideful man pre-demise and what husk had revived onto this cursed world.

"I want to pull out a weapon just in case we come across anyone else, not to use it on you, okay?" Waiting for his consent, they pull a shining netherite blade after Wilbur agrees.

It didn't take them long to walk to the castle and into the Monarch's walls, too short of a time for Eret to think of anything to say to the man. Inviting him back was an impulsive decision but he was safer in this stone fortress than anywhere else tonight. Once they are in the throne room the Ruler places the sword back away, keeping it near the front of their inventory just in case.

Walking the quiet man through to their parlour, Eret stokes a fire before turning to where Wilbur has collapsed upon the plush cushions of their wool-stuffed sofa. "Are you hungry or do you want anything to drink?"

Going into host mode was much easier while they gathered all they wanted to say, Wilbur along the same lines as he requested tea with just a bit of honey. Disappearing to the kitchen, the Monarch wonders what is going to be said tonight between the two once friends, a bond broken by betrayal Eret still had panic attacks over.

Is there anything to be built from the ashes that lay between them, scorched and caked with crimson blood that had spilled from his neck after Eret chose a different side?

Where did I go wrong? I lost a friend

Somewhere along in the bitterness

And I would have stayed up with you all night

Had I known how to save a life

Feeling more confused and unsettled, Eret forces themself to come back to where the First President sat, sitting on a high-backed red chair across from him. The Ruler half expected to come back to an empty room, the brunette pulling the same escaping act on many occasions beforehand. Unlike before, Wilbur stays to face the words they will share, and Eret isn't sure if it's a relief they feel or apprehension. Perhaps nerves, their hands trembling as they set down their own teacup and saucer, porcelain clinking against each other.