"Do not train a child to learn by force or harshness; but direct them to it by what amuses their minds, so that you may be better able to discover with accuracy the peculiar bent of the genius of each."
Plato
He woke up to a song. It reminded him of Wilbur, the man who took him in, taught him to fight, and inspired his loyalty. It was the first person Tommy had ever given his life to, and the betrayal that haunted him the most. Wilbur would strum his guitar on the mornings, a tune resting on his lips as he sang with the birds. He would smile at Tommy, making the song louder to wake the others up. Tommy would grumble something as he gathered water for morning porridge. What Tommy wouldn't do to experience that again.
The voice was different, Tommy realized. It was less like honey and more like syrup. Deep and slow, but not quite as much as Wilbur's. It was sang lower in a tone just above a whisper. There wasn't words Tommy understand, but fluctuating sounds that rose and fell like words in a different language. Tommy wanted to understand.
"Are you awake, sweetie?" The woman asked as Tommy's eyes cleared, her frame coming into focus. She had released her braid into curls that fell across her back, and had switched out her dress for a maroon sweater over black jeans. Tommy felt weird whenever he noticed the red beanie that the woman wore, reminding him of Wilbur. Maybe his mind was just on him today.
"I'm up, lady," Tommy retorted, raising his body up on his elbows. He swung his legs around, bare feet lightly touching the warmed earth that his floor was made of. "What is your name anyways?"
"I told you I do not have one. I was never given a proper name, and had no need to go by one before. If it upsets you, you may name me anything you desire," The woman said with a pleasant smile.
"What about... Bitch? No, no, you've been nice to me. What's a good name? Clementine? No, that's my future moth's name. What could be your name..." Tommy trailed off, eyes lurking around his room for something to give him a clue. When his eyes finally rested on his jukebox, the perfect name sprang to mind. "Clara! She's an astronaut in deep space! A very pog woman, indeed."
"I'm honored," The newly named woman said, running a hand through Tommy's hair affectionately, smiling wider when he leaned contently into the touch. Clara finally let go, standing up from the chair. "I'm proud of you, did you know that?"
"Whatever, Clara," Tommy responded with an eye roll, but his heart swelled at the thought. The last person he had made proud was Wilbur's spirit, not Ghostbur, but the remnants of Wilbur that clung to the destroyed L'Manberg. Those pieces of Wilbur's psyche collected into an unstable apparition that told Tommy he was proud of his defeat over Dream. That was the Wilbur Tommy missed. That was the Wilbur Clara's outfit was impersonating.
"I thought about what we should do today. Obviously, we should try to be productive. We need to build good memories, to help replace the bitter ones. What better way than upgrading your home? It's been so long since you've permanently stayed here, but you'll come to see that it isn't the best place to remain. The walls could crumble at any moment," Clara said, resting her hands on her hips as she twirled slowly. "It needs more red. That is your favorite color, isn't it?"
"Yeah, yeah, red is pog. The other colors are shit. 'Cept for green and yellow," Tommy said, surprised that someone remembered his favorite color. It shouldn't have been hard to notice, but only Tubbo ever recalled.
Clara hummed at the mention of other colors. "It can't be helped," She muttered before disappearing to the kitchen area, looking behind her to discreetly tell Tommy to follow. The boy hopped to his feet, sliding on his boots as he followed her deeper into his housing unit. At the kitchen table, there was two bowls of that orange soup Tommy had the other day.
"It's a nectar. Whatever nutrients the Egg absorbs is what the soup tastes like, and the nectar is designed to aid in strengthening at a cellular level. You'll become completely healthy in a few days, and get stronger as time goes on," Clara explained as she lifted a spoon from the bowl to her mouth.
"Nice," Tommy responded as he lifted his own spoon. The nectar was lukewarm, and tasted of a liquified fruit salad. Tommy didn't hate it, but he wished it was meatier or he had some bread with it.
"I know it doesn't suit your tastes, but you'll get used to it, I know. I just want to help your body grow stronger. It was weakened severely by spending time with the Egg," Clara apologized as she stared at Tommy's face, noticing the thoughts inside his head in his eyes before he had time to discard them.
Tommy didn't respond, sipping the rest of the nectar up. Clara was finished alongside him, smile on her features as she helped Tommy wash out the bowls. Tommy did a little stretch while Clara tapped a finger against her lips. "What should we do first? The bedroom? The underground? Expansion?"
"Probably the outer walls and move inwards. We'll do downstairs last. If it's safety your concerned about, that's the best way to divide our time," Tommy explained, pointing at some of the main supports.
"A little architect, too? My, my, do we have a jack of all trades in our midsts?" Clara said with a light hearted tone, giggling in delight at Tommy's flushed face that turned as red as her sweater.
"... S- Sam taught me some things... back when... he taught me redstone. Fundy helped, though. He's my nephew. He taught me a few things during L'Manberg's war for independence," Tommy reminisced on times that were good in the moment but painful to reimagine.
"I'll help, Tommy. I'm going to stay by your side. For as long as you breathe, I will be right here," Clara reassured, speaking promises that weighed heavy on Tommy's heart. People had done that before, swore to remain, but eventually left him when it was convenient. That was the people of this Server. Convenience was better than truth. Tommy had remained loyal even with odds stacked against him. Perhaps Clara was like him. Then again, maybe she was just another Eret. "Let's get started! What material should we use? A wood, stone, or metal ore?"
"We should make it out of smooth stone. My house was once built out of that. Someone replaced it with granite, and I didn't have time to redo the smooth stone so I just did dirt and left it," Tommy explained with a sigh.
"That means we'll need cobblestone and coal," Clara said immediately. Tommy nodded, leading her to some of his chests. He pulled out a diamond shovel and iron pickaxe. Clara raised her hands in front of her, a control board appearing before her. Tommy watched as Clara summoned a shovel and pickaxe of what looked like netherite but was red instead of purple. Tommy stared at it with fascination.
"What material is that?" Tommy asked as he reached a hand to the material. It hummed underneath his touch, sending small vibrations from his fingertips to the rest of him. Clara smiled at his curiosity.
"I believe humans once called it rubite. It is equivalent to netherite, but so much easier to enchant," Clara explained, letting Tommy hold the pickaxe. He could feel the enchantment flowing through the hilt, sparking against his skin like electricity. Tommy noticed at a young age how he could sense enchantments. When he told Wilbur, his older brother helped him identify the differences in the feelings so he could pick out different enchantments.
"Mending?" Tommy asked with a raised eyebrow. He knew because the mana was concentrated at the surface, threading in and out like worms or stitching.
"Yes!" Clara said excitedly, leaning down to face Tommy. "Can you sense it? I knew it! I knew you had the potential to be a Mage."
"A Mage? I thought that was a lost art. All we do now is enchantments and potions," Tommy said with a frown. He was told stories as a child by Phil and Techno about the great Mages and Warriors of the past who had created the Temples that littered around the world without proper owners.
"Yes, humans have lost touch with the magic inside them. This was caused by the experiments that black magic Mages performed hundreds of years ago. However, humans have not completely lost the connection. You are an example of this. You will be far weaker than those Mages, nor will you be able to perform proper spells, but there are a few schools of magic you could learn. The one you are most compatible with is Enchantment. Not the cheap, fake kind that other humans do, but the real Magecraft that was previously lost," Clara explained. "You may be able to perform some Transmutation or even Abjuration, but it won't come easily to you."
"You are speaking in funny words, woman," Tommy said, lost since the beginning. He didn't know what the schools of magic were or who these 'black magic mages' were. "But if I can make my weapons better so be it."
"You will do much more than that, Tommy. Now, let's fix your house!"
——
Guess who will appear next chapter? Hint, hint, it's one of the 'false gods'.
I don't know if I'll explain in universe so here is a picture to describe the schools of magic: