In this world, there is a 30% chance that when you die, you will experience perma-death. X and Grian joined together and managed to make a mod that you can die once on each server without any worry.
What they didn't realize that it had a drawback. It turned the persons skin grey. And only in the next server, or when every player had turned grey, would they turn back to normal. The mod would not reset until they went to a new server.
The server made a game out of it.
Third Person
Scar repetitively threw his hat into the air. Up it went. Down it went. Up it went. Down it went.
To anyone else, everything would be fine. But for Scar, nothing was fine.
Nothing at all.
His grey skin was obvious, and his clothing was also a dark shade of grey.
It was depressing. The constant gloominess, and it didn't help with Scars already developed depression.
Joe had gotten Scar to take anti-depressant pills halfway into season four, when Joe realized that Scar was depressed.
It seemed as if he was cured, and halfway into season five, Joe took him off them.
Scar had learned amazing acting skills in that timespan, and now nobody can tell if he's feeling down.
Not good. And his therapy sessions with Joe had stopped a week or so before season six began.
Then he met Grian. The cheery, optimistic, I-started-a-cult, gremlin. And Scar fell for him. Hard. But Grian showed no signs of being drawn to Scar. They were rivals, anyways.
Or were they? A sigh left his lungs, and he pulled himself to his feet. He grabbed his earbuds, flipped through his music, before landing on a song he liked and started it.
Humming to the music, he set up his time-lapse camera and began working.
Seven hours later, a exhausted and sore Scar dragged himself back over to the camera to shut it off. The moment it was flicked off, Scar promptly collapsed on the spot, his head cracking against the ground and knocking him out.
His unconscious form lay there, easy pickings for any mobs that stumbled along.
In this case, a phantom drawn by his lack of sleep (No, being knocked out doesn't count as sleep.) It hit him, trying to snatch him up in its claws to lift him into the air and drop him from a high height.
Scar woke, and struggled against the phantom. His head dripped with deep red blood, it was the only thing that hadn't turned grey. His vision was blurring as he hit at the phantom, not registering that his sword was literally right next to him.
As the phantom tore into his skin, attempting to lift him up, a second form hit the phantom, knocking it to the ground.
Scar hit the ground, barely keeping conscious as he turned his head to watch the new form fight the phantom vigorously.
His head pounded, and the form killed the phantom. The form bolted up to him, and pulled him into their lap.
Colors? So its someone from the alive team?... A hand reviewed the wounds, apparently dubbing the head wound the most dangerous, as they began wrapping it.
A gibberish like mumble left his mouth, and his savior softly murmured some comforting words as they finished with his head and moved onto his shoulders.
At this point, he dubbed the player 'Safe' and passed out entirely.
The player finished with the claw marks on his shoulders and noticed a small amount of blood staining Scars sleeves.
Oh please no.
The player pulled up one of Scars sleeves, showing the old self-harm scars, and multiple new ones.
A frown entered the players features, and they wrapped the wounds, before clumsily carrying the larger man.
They decided that Scars own base wouldn't be the best place, and began flying to their own base.
It was a decent flight, and they finally arrived, taking Scar to a second floor and placing him in the extra bed.
The concern of the player radiated around the room as they pulled a chair, sitting down next to Scar.
Waiting for him to wake up.
And fell asleep like that.
Literally noon the next day, Scar stirred.
His hat was taken off, and his wounds were all professionally bound. Of course, that said nothing, because everyone learns to bind wounds when they are 10.
But it was done in a comfortable way, and his wrists-Oh crud. His wrists were wrapped.
The player who had saved him found his self-inflicted cuts.
Question was, who was it that saved him in the first place?
Eyelids flickering for a bit, trying to adjust to the light and the absolutely horrible pain in his head. Finally, they opened and he tried to move his head, only to get a spike of pain and he yelped.
This woke the player sitting next to him. "Huh-Oh! Your awake! How is your head Scar?"
Bigger crud. It was Grian, according to the voice. His crush. Goddamnit, why did the gremlin have to care about everyone in the world?
"Meh..." Grians hand gently helped Scar sit up without jarring his head, and asked while doing so "'Meh' as in, 'whats going on?' or 'meh' as in 'it feels meh.'?"
Scar laughed, but only caused further pain to his head, wincing. "I-I think the first..."
The winged player said softly, lowering his voice after realizing Scar had a serious concussion. "You want some ice chips? For your probably dry mouth?" (Yes, ice chips help with a dry mouth. And as in ice chips, I mean crushed ice.). A weak nod in response.
Grian scampered away, going for the makeshift fridge/freezer Stress had gifted him after he caught a high fever.
He opened it and snatched the bag of ice chips he had left over from the time Xisuma had passed out from dehydration while working on the coding at Grian's base.
Poring some into a cup, he put the remaining ice chips back and walked up to Scar, helping him get some in his mouth to suck on.
After a bit, they sat there in a awkward silence and Grian softly questioned "Hey... So what are those cuts about?"
"None of your business..."
"Mhmmm. As your current doctor, I disagree."
Scar glared at the concerned Grian. "Stop caring about me so much. It's just wasting your time."
He immediately moved forward a bit more, grabbing a glass of water. "Sure. You realize cuts aren't going to stop your pain? It's just going to make it worse. Take it from me." He dipped a rag in the cup, and began rubbing his own forearm.
This confused Scar who softly asked "What?..." He had no reason to finish. Concealer rubbed off Grian's arm, showing scars less then a year old.
There wasn't any recent ones. Scar reached forward, and pulled his arm forward, inspecting the oldish scars.
"Oh..."
Grian glared at Scar. "Oh, and your crush isn't one sided."
Scar choked on the remaining ice chips. "How-"
"Well, Sherlock Grian is a thing!"
They both laughed, not realizing this simple interaction would mark the beginning of a relationship, and the end of Scars cutting.
Tada! And for those wondering "Wait, how did she type this with a injured thumb?"
Well, two reasons:
1. Determination
2. I used my laptop and improvised
Oh, and the aquaphobic Grian is a work in progress. It's harder to make then you would think.
Bye costumers! Thanks for reading!
Word Count 1234