Dragon//Yandere Dream SMP x Reader (DISCONTINUED)

31. New Now

[LOADING...]

<<LEVEL TWO: COMMENCE>>

[Good Luck.]

~=×=~

The library always had a cool sheen in the mornings. A gentle white glow to decorate the cream walls and oak bookshelves, all in a circular room with an open-glass roof. The columns that surrounded the centre of the room caged a beautiful young tree that seemed to beam just as bright as the sun above.

Her finger tapped against the book impatiently. Usually reading books like this would be enjoyable, especially in such a peculiar and fascinating environment. But this circular building could only house her for so long, and her companion was taking awfully long to come back.

The last three months had been difficult, to say the least. With the disappearance of this unpredictable world's inhabitants, the search for help, supplies or any other communications has been long since deserted. The silence was surreal and almost exciting for the first two days... but now?

Now the loneliness. The abandoned atmosphere liked to stalk them from a distance, always watching and splashing its presence wherever they went. It wasn't as if Y/N was alone - Echo was there to help with that. But if this lurking, haunting wolf will never relent... then maybe other things won't, either.

Like the fact of that she knew the other 'players' were still there, too.

That's right, dear reader, it's just you, Echo, and the menagerie of dangerous and wild cretins who have all hit rock bottom.

Oh, that's right! You don't know most of their backstories. Their reasoning, what drives them, how they got here, where they came from, their regrets, what they miss, their experience here... ooh, level two will be so fun!

For now, the elf lay with her legs curled up and hair down, soaking in the sunshine through that glass roof with half-lidded eyes. Her sharp nails drew pretty pictures on the leather-bound cover, letting the scritchy-scratchy sound call back to her with each brunt swipe. She swiped her tongue over her mouth. "I want to draw."

A simple desire. A particular memory liked to haunt her, of when she'd had a dabble with charcoal and ended up making a mess in the living room. She and Echo rushed for hours to clean everything up before her dreaded parents got home. That would be awful.

But there was one little inconsistency that made her brows furrow. She recalled their disapproving nature, of how she had to sneak a notebook from her dad's study and a pen from her mother's bedside table. That had been how she started.

But in the memory, there was a great, beautiful canvas mounted on an expertly hand-crafted easel. Charcoal at the ready for her use, and with it she drew what one could only describe as a hooded horned man. But where did those supplies come from? Her parents weren't artists. Who set that up?

The birth of a headache smacked her forehead. This always happens when she tries to delve a little deeper into those memories. How cruel.

There was the clutter of someone stumbling over rubble.

Y/N shot up. Echo doesn't have legs. Where'd that sound come from?

She pulled herself to her feet and poised her arms with the paralysing crackle of magic raving at her fingertips. Her voice came out in the sly breath of a cautious whisper. "Who's there?"

The boy tripped over his own legs and crashed into a crumpled heap on the floor. She could recognise the scruffy, scrappy blonde hair anywhere. Her mouth fell, "Tommy?"