Influence
In which you didn't know all your troubles would begin
...~<<<()>>>~...
"So (y/n) what do you think of the election?" The question made you sigh, that was the 5th time this morning.
Louisa settled onto (Y/N)'s couch, her short and stout frame finding comfort in the worn upholstery. The flickering hearth cast a warm glow on her weathered face, where lines of age told stories of a bygone era. Dressed in layers of carefully patched fabrics of greens and browns, she clutched her staff with both hands, its weathered wood supporting her as she waited with a quiet dignity.
Her bones, weakened with time, craved the alchemical remedy promised by the potion brewing nearby. The air carried the soothing aroma of herbs and elixirs, a concoction carefully crafted to bring relief to her aging joints. As Louisa patiently awaited the potion's completion, her eyes, still lively with wisdom, roamed the room, taking in the surroundings of a world that had seen her through countless seasons.
In the midst of (Y/N)'s sanctuary, surrounded by the warmth of the hearth and the promise of alchemical healing, Louisa embodied the resilience of a medieval dame seeking solace for her weary bones in the comforting embrace of a trusted friend's home.
Louisa was an elderly lady who had travelled from the South. The land and houses in the Dream SMP were bought out so she had no choice but to live in L'Manburg. "It does not worry me, I don't really care," (y/n) shrugged as she sat across from Louisa as the potion brewed
Louisa settled into the worn chair, her eyes reflecting a contemplative gaze as (Y/N) moved about the room, tending to various tasks.
"You know, (Y/N), I find myself caught in a dilemma. This election between Wilbur Soot and Quackity—it's quite the spectacle," she sighed. Internally (Y/N) sighed, she was getting tired of the political drama.
"I've been steering clear of all that drama. Too much chaos for my liking," she sighed. It was a pain, she now had to take a 2 hour trip to get supplies to get to a town that won't harass her about politics and she could just buy her supplies.
Louisa nodded, her fingers tracing patterns on her staff."But the fate of L'Manburg hangs in the balance. Each candidate claims to have the solution, yet I'm uncertain which path to support. Wilbur and Tommy a great but they're simply children," she reasoned.
(Y/N) sighed, pausing in her thoughts to give Louisa their full attention."Honestly, Louisa, I've had enough of politics and factions. It's always the same promises, and in the end, it leads to chaos."
Louisa's eyes twinkled with a knowing wisdom."You're wise beyond your years, my dear. But for some of us, these elections are like the changing seasons—we can't escape their influence."
"I get it, but I'd rather focus on simpler things, like the hearth's warmth and the quiet moments away from the strife." (Y/N) stared out the window and at the wind that blew through the tree line. "My life is out here in solitude making potions, not in L'Manburg."
Louisa smiled, her gaze softening. "Ah, the simplicity you seek is a treasure in itself. Perhaps, I'll find solace in your perspective. Sometimes, stepping away from the storm is the wisest choice. But sometimes the incoming storm is impossible to avoid."
(Y/N) nodded, understanding passing between them, transcending the complexities of an election that neither truly desired to navigate.
The bubbling in the brewing stand stopped and (Y/N) jumped up from her seat and walked to the row of stands she had. She pulled out one of the bottles of potion and examined it, the potion was brewed perfectly. "It's all done Louisa, a few drops of this strength potion a day should help your bones to feel better," (Y/N) smiled as she handed Louisa the vial.
"Thank you (Y/N), you're a godsend," she praised as she handed (Y/N) a few gold coins.
Louisa clutched her staff and made her way to the door. She lingered for a second, "I've lived a long time (Y/N) dear and the reason we ask you who is the best choice is because you look from the outside in, if there's any flaws, you can see them better than we can," she finished as she walked out the door, gently closing it behind her.
...~<<<()>>>~...
There was a knock on (Y/N)'s doors. She looked up from her book, surprised. It was almost sunset and no one dared brave the trek to her house this close to night. Mobs would be wandering through the forest soon.
Out of courtesy (Y/N) opened the door. "Wilbur?" She questioned.
"Please can I talk to you just for a little bit, I feel that I may lose my mind if I don't," he begged.
(Y/N) couldn't turn him away and relented, letting him inside. Wilbur seemed uneasy, it was like he couldn't sit still.
Wilbur paced anxiously in the dimly lit room, the weight of the upcoming election pressing heavily on his shoulders. (Y/N), lounging on a chair, seemed indifferent to the brewing storm. "(Y/N), I can't shake this feeling. The people are losing faith in us. The aftermath of the war, the homeless... It's all adding up," he blurted, the stress seemed to be getting at him.
(Y/N) glanced over, nonchalant."People come and go, Wilbur. You can't control every twist and turn, isn't that why you formed L'Manburg for free speech and what not," (Y/N) sighed.
Wilbur, frustrated, ran his hands through his disheveled hair. "But I want to make L'Manburg a better place. It's slipping away, and Quackity's gaining support. We need to do something." (Y/N) couldn't tell if he was asking desperately or genuinely wanted her opinion.
(Y/N) shrugged, seemingly unfazed.
"Let them support whoever. Why bother with all this drama? Schlatt, Quackity, you—all the same, just different faces," she said harshly.
"That's a little harsh," Wilbur's eyes narrowed, grappling with (Y/N)'s casual attitude. "It's not that simple. Schlatt's a wanted man, and Quackity's gaining momentum. We need to stay ahead."
(Y/N) leaned back, her tone dismissive. "Wanted for what? Probably something ridiculous. I'm more interested in finding a good book than worrying about Schlatt's crimes," (Y/N) grumbled.
Wilbur sighed, the gravity of the situation seemingly lost on (Y/N).
"(Y/N), this is important. People's lives are at stake, and I can't afford to lose this election. I need your support."
(Y/N) chuckled, her indifference unwavering."Support? In this political circus? Wilbur, I'll be on my own path. If you win, great. If not, life goes on, it is not my problem," she scoffed.
Wilbur, frustrated by the lack of concern, left the house, leaving (Y/N) to her apathetic musings. As the election loomed, L'Manburg faced uncertainties, and (Y/N) remained a detached observer in the midst of the chaos.
Just as she thought Wilbur was gone he stormed into the threshold again. Wilbur, frustration etched across his face, confronted (Y/N) in her potion-filled sanctuary.
"(Y/N), you've got to realize the influence you hold in L'Manburg. Your potions, your neutral stance – it matters more than you think," he said loudly, he was almost begging for her help.
(Y/N) rolled her, seemingly unfazed by Wilbur's intensity."Influence? Wilbur, I'm just doing my thing, making potions. I'm not a puppet master pulling strings, I'll leave that to dream," (Y/N) huffed.
Wilbur, his voice rising, tried to convey the urgency of the situation. "Your potions heal, they bring relief to the citizens. You're the neutral force we need, and people look up to you. You can sway opinions, and right now, we need that."
(Y/N) raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. "Look, I don't care about your politics, Wilbur. People like the potions, not the person making them."
Wilbur shook his head in disbelief. "You're underestimating yourself. You're a symbol of peace, someone who's never taken sides in the chaos. That's what L'Manburg needs."
(Y/N), now slightly annoyed, stopped her potion-making. "Wilbur, I'm not interested in being a symbol. I do what I do because I enjoy it. I'm not here to save your election."
Wilbur, desperate, pleaded with (Y/N). "But you can make a difference! Your neutrality is what sets you apart. Use it to help L'Manburg, not just with potions, but with your influence."
(Y/N) sighed, her tone unyielding. "Wilbur, I make potions, not political moves. If people find comfort in that, great. But I won't be a pawn in your game."
The tension hung in the air as Wilbur left, frustrated by (Y/N)'s unwillingness to see the potential impact she held in the delicate balance of L'Manburg's political turmoil. With a final sigh Wilbur walked out. He stopped one last time not looking back. "Found this on your doorstep by the way," he mumbled as he pulled the letter out and dropped it onto the floor where she could see it, he then closed the door and left.
(Y/N) scowled, and grabbed a silver potion off her shelf. She opened the door, "Oi, dumbass!" She yelled. Wilbur turned around. She threw him the potion. "That's so you don't get mauled by a zombie on your way home," she called out. Wilbur gave her a nod and continued on his way.
(Y/N) shook her head at the L'Manburg president and turned to go back inside. She picked up the letter.
She opened it.
Dear (Y/N),
I hope this letter finds you well. I feel compelled to bring something to your attention. There are whispers in the shadows, voices that suggest a potential threat to your way of life if you do not align yourself with Swag2020 in the upcoming election.
It pains me to write such words, but it's crucial that you are aware of the potential consequences. Those who are not in favor of Swag2020 may find themselves facing difficulties, and I fear your independence and well-being could be at risk.
Consider this letter a cautious plea to weigh your choices carefully. The political landscape is shifting, and aligning yourself with certain forces might provide a shield against unforeseen troubles.
I wish you strength and wisdom in navigating these uncertain times. May your decisions lead you to safety and peace.
Sincerely,
A Concerned Observer
She raised her eyebrow at the letter. This was clearly a subtle threat and clearly from someone allied with Quackity and likely Schlatt.
She sat down on her couch. Yet again another conflict to dodge. She wished that they would just leave her alone, it was why she lived so far out of town.
Just as (Y/N) settled down in her lounge chair, a window shattered. She flinched, it was a noise she wasn't expecting. She rushed to check her windows, the kitchen window was broken by an arrow, a message was tied it. She pulled it off and read it.
This is your first warning.
There was a hiss behind her. A hiss (Y/N) knew well. She threw herself backwards, under her kitchen table, pulling it over to shield herself as the creeper erupted. The bang made her ears almost explode, she was thrown into the wall and the table was splintered.
She pushed the remaining table off her. She didn't feel hurt, which meant she got out of that relatively good. But there was a massive hole in her kitchen wall. A wall she had built from stone. Someone opened the door and let the creeper in because she swore she had closed it
She was now exposed to the darkness of the night. The torches lining the outside were extinguished in the blast, and an eerie silence settled over the tree line beyond.
As (Y/N) peered through the hole, a chill ran down her spine. The moonlight revealed the unmistakable figures of zombies, their green skin glowing faintly in the darkness. They staggered toward her with a relentless determination, their low moans echoing through the stillness.
The kitchen, once a haven of warmth and safety, now felt vulnerable. (Y/N) quickly scanned the room, her eyes falling on a chest containing weapons and potions. With a sense of urgency, she armed herself, clutching a sword and a potion of strength. It was a backup plan, she wasn't muscly, she was a potion maker but she was a decent archer, her bow would be her only ally.
The groans of the approaching zombies grew louder, their hollow eyes fixed on (Y/N). She took a deep breath, steadying herself, and approached the hole in the wall. Moonlight spilled into the kitchen, casting long shadows as (Y/N) prepared to face the encroaching horde.