Chapter Text
After the rounds that night, Shedletsky, like many nights before and many nights to come, decides to walk the shoreline.
It’s something everyone here does, though he knows he does it the most often. He just… often needs to clear his head, feeling as if he’s constantly playing 4D chess against the killers they’re pitted up against. Again and again, he protects his team, and again and again, he fails and his people die. All the while, he smiles and jokes and pretends it doesn’t feel like losing his godhood all over again.
So, the walking helps.
Upon treading its quiet shores for hours, further than he probably should’ve gone, the twists and turns turn into a small clearing. The air here is clear, almost as if he had been suffocating and only now realized he could take deep breaths. The restraints on him feel… maybe not gone, but absent-- they trail across his arms, his wings, but more of curious garden snakes than binding chains.
It makes him bewildered, eyes blinking at his hands as if they hold the answer. Could… he escape from here? He reaches for his godhood, power swelling from untapered disuse, and--
“I wouldn’t do that, creator ,” comes a voice closer to the shore, and Shedletsky turns on a dime, mangled wings flaring up in warning. He reaches for a sword that’s not there, first, and remembers his loosened chains and reaches for that, but… it fizzles out as the sight before him finally registers in his mind.
It’s 1x1x1x1, of course, his singular eye glaring up at him from his spot on the ground. He looks bad-- hair frazzled, pitch black skin looking somehow pale and somewhat clammy. Bright green, poisonous blood seeps from his legs, his thighs, and even parts of his stomach, running into the water and oddly turning it clear.
It’s… confusing. Why is he here? Why is he… mutilating himself? Shedletsky doesn’t understand, and he feels a frown form on his face, eyes narrowed. “What are you doing here?” He bites out. The survivor camp is only a few hours away, and he knows from his constant walks that the fence doesn’t extend this way.
1x1x1x1 ignores him (and he feels his wings bristle ), and turns towards the waters. A moment of tense silence passes. “... An escape plan,” he says at last, as if the words are painful to say.
Shedletsky wants to laugh, and can’t quite manage to keep the indignation out of his voice, “Escape? You ? You shouldn’t want to escape, you’re having a grand time killing us all here. What, you want a new roster of people to murder? Bored of us already?”
Hatred seeps from his hissing, like an old television on an unknown channel. Had he had any strength left, Shedletsky is sure he would’ve skewered him where he stands. Still, as painful as death is, he doesn’t care how angry he gets. He won’t let his mistake escape here to kill people who don’t have a chance at coming back.
1x1x1x1 bites down his first instinct, his second, and even his third and fourth. Through gritted teeth, he explains, “ No. You think these repetitive games are any more fun to me than you? I want out , I want to never see you or your weak camaraderies again. This is not freedom-- or are you truly so stupid to not realize that?”
“Hey--”
He barrels on, “My poison seeps into these waters, distracts the one who traps us here, and opens a path to escape.” He holds up a hand, fingers shaking from blood loss, and reluctantly says, “... I have overestimated myself, though. I cannot swim the way out, and I can’t heal and try another way-- our captor will have sealed this exit or our memories.” Again , he doesn’t say. He doesn’t know what he’s forgotten, only that there are gaps in these repetitive days.
Shedletsky wishes he had his sword, but weapons never followed any of them outside of the rounds. Except for the killers , he muses for a moment. Still, he chews on the other’s words and says, “Then I can go grab Builderman, or--”
“Did you not listen to a word I said?” 1x1x1x1 asks, anger flaring in his eye. “Or are you that dense? Do you think my body bleeds forever? That you will have returned before I’ve bled my last, or been noticed by who keeps us here?” He scoffs, standing on shaking legs, using Daemonshank as a cane. “Either help me and have a chance at rescuing your friends , or leave me be.”
Shedletsky knows this is a golden opportunity. Being out of here, having these chains that restrict his already diminished power fully removed… he could get them all out. He could get help from the other gods-- he could save them all. But the cost… Can he really trust 1x1x1x1 ? The creature who, in these sick games, purposely either pounces first or leaves him for last, just to savor his death? His creation of all the worst things of himself?
The cruelest part is that he doesn’t even have a choice. It’s either this, or slamming his head against the walls of this prison until something changes.
“Fine.” He says, at last. With the barest hint of trust, he turns his back, and crouches. “Get on.” And don’t crush my wings , he holds back, unwilling to bring them up to the thing that had destroyed them in the first place. Still, in what feels like practiced ease, 1x1x1x1 nestles neatly between both pairs, hands gripping his shoulders in an iron grasp.
He hesitates only barely a moment, before nudging his shoes off and entering the waters. It’s silent-- he doesn’t have a thing to say, and evidently, 1x1x1x1 doesn’t either; the swim goes on.
The waters feel almost too calm as the other shore comes into view, like the world is holding its breath. Shedletsky is exhausted-- he’d never been much of a swimmer to begin with, with wings meant for the skies, and having a passenger clinging onto him makes it all the more difficult.
One stroke, another, reaching forwards over and over and over and over and--
It’s not that it’s that painful, really. Nothing more than a papercut; he’d gotten way worse in their endless matches ordained by the Spectre. He’s tired though, already straining muscles he didn’t know he had, and the small cut into his shoulder seeps poison in he’s felt hundreds of times before. It makes his muscles seize, and he struggles to fight through it, to keep his head afloat as his creation idly holds on with just one hand.
“Why?” He gasps out, needing an explanation, even as the still waters swallow his movements. He’s never died from drowning before, and-- it scares him. “What could you gain from killing us both ? Are these games not enough?” Was this all a lie? A way to lure me out just to kill me in this cruel way?
“I can’t help it,” says his creation of hatred. “My hatred for you was too strong; it’s in my nature to strike.”
---
The waters feel almost too calm as the other shore comes into view, like the world is smiling an awful grin, ready for the final curtain to fall. Shedletsky is exhausted-- but more importantly, he is anxious for reasons he can’t even begin to fathom.
Does fear come from memory, or instinct? Does the fox stuck in a bear’s trap fear the approaching human because they have harmed him before, or is it a white-eyed fear to strike first, before the final blow can come? The air is tense with unseen watchers, and Shedletsky sweats from more than exertion.
1x1x1x1 adjusts on his back, a hand removed to-- to do what? Reach for her god-ending blades? In a split second, he has the illusion of a choice, and has no hesitation as he reaches for her remaining loosely-gripped hand on his shoulder and pries it off, pushing her off in one swell swoop. He ignores her choking and thrashes as he swims on, making it to the shore that was so close to their reach.
He turns to the water as the cicadas take turns loudly laughing at him. There are no movements, no ripples-- it is as still as it always is. She was going to kill me anyways , he thinks to himself as he already forgets who ‘she’ is. It was inevitable; she’s a monster, a hateful creature I never should have trusted . He turns away, hearing Elliot call his name from the cabin that shouldn’t have been there. She lied, so she would have a chance to kill me, for good .
---
… But as he leaves the shore, Shedletsky feels the blade of Daemonshank against his throat. He pauses in his swim, legs fluttering to keep them both afloat. “What do you think you’re doing ?” he asks, barely a note above hissing.
“Just a precaution,” 1x1x1x1 coos in his ear, lips right behind his ear, causing his wings to flick softly. “I can’t kill you without drowning, without ruining everything that I’ve planned. And now, you can’t drown me, leave me behind now that the path is clear. It’s fair, isn’t it, dear creator?”
The air is tense as he swims on, silence deafening all else. He simmers, barely unwilling to boil over, as they both reach the other side. As soon as the blade is removed from him, he drops them, watching with red as they crumple from their bleeding legs, crying out. He grabs them by their torn scarf, godly powers unrestrained, manifesting his many pairs of wings in anger.
“After the kindness I showed you in choosing to believe you, after everything you’ve done?” He spits out, his extra wings straining against closing chains. “And you threatened, again , to kill me in return?”
1x1x1x1 laughs like harsh static. “Kindness? Everything I’ve done?” They glare right into his eyes, a snarl staining their lips. “You are no innocent man, Shedletsky, need I remind you of what I am? Everything of mine is a fault of yours, every wrong is a result of the choices you chose that made me a monster, a creature of your worst desires. My dear creator, I only treat you with the basic respect you have given me in return. Your kindness is no less poisoned than my sword’s blade.”
---
… But as he leaves the shore, Shedletsky feels the blade of Daemonshank against his throat. He pauses in his swim, legs fluttering to keep them both afloat. “What do you think you’re doing?” he asks, curious and cautious in the same breath.
“Just a precaution,” 1x1x1x1 says from his shoulder, leaning forward to catch the corner of his eye. “I can’t kill you without drowning, and now, you can’t drown me without dying. It’s fair, isn’t it, dear creator?”
He shrugs, as casual as discussing the weather. “Sure, you got me there,” he says. “But once we’ve crossed, couldn’t you kill me then, without consequence?” The fog thickens around them so much that he’s not sure he knows which direction it was they came from.
Daemonshank tremors against his neck and the hand at his shoulder squeezes painfully. “All I want is out of here,” 1x1x1x1 says, its voice scratching like a record. “Once we’re on the other side, you can work all you want to get your little friends out, and I will forever leave you be.”
Shedletsky barks a laugh. “Leave me be? I could trust you on that? Really? I couldn’t trust you further than I could throw you, and Daemonshank at my throat proves that.” He shakes his head, said blade pressing tight but not cutting into his neck. “You would sooner kill us both than allow me to live without you.”
“Can the same not be said for you?” it hisses. “You, who tried everything to get rid of his hatred-- you nearly died creating me, or did you forget how much you bled? I can’t trust you not to leave me in these waters more than you can trust me not to kill you where you stand.”
He hums, air so thick he can’t even see his creation’s face anymore. “Then, I suppose we’re at an impasse.”
It adjusts its free hand to curl around him more. “I suppose so,” it says.
---
1x1x1x1 explains his plan, and Shedletsky laughs in his face. “Did you really think that would work? You think I’d trust you, armed, on my back while I have nothing? Do you really think you could escape this place by mutilating yourself? You’re insane, 1x. Absolutely crazy.” He shakes his head, walking back along the shore he came from.
1x1x1x1 lets his blood coagulate, weakly throws his swords into the lake, spitting and hissing his creator’s name as he ignores the obsidian chains forming back over his chest.
---
1x1x1x1 explains his plan, and Telamon nods sagely. “Yes, Telamon believes that could work,” it says. “Being truly out of here would allow one’s power to expand, and release those who have been forsaken here.”
It doesn’t remember 1x1x1x1, not truly. It knows he kills it and its camaraderies in these unbalanced games, though it does not know why he is so… hate filled, especially to itself. It is also aware that its memories are suppressed to some point, and the answers it seeks lie in a future it will never personally behold. When the dam on its memories is finally destroyed, all that Telamon is will be replaced by what has already come to pass.
It’s… an odd thought, that Telamon is only real, at this moment, at the will of its jailer.
On its back as it flies inches above the water, 1x1x1x1 has thoughts of his own. This is a version of his creator he had never known-- before it had decided to cast him from its spine and further bestow him with all the hatred it had had for itself. It, truly, has done no wrong by him. Yet, he almost can’t help himself as he tries to slash Daemonshank across its pristine wings, to once more destroy the things it had once held so highly in regard.
… It does nothing, of course. He’d only managed to mangle those terrible beauties when he had filled it so full of his poison it could only manifest its natural wings. His blade slides cleanly off impenetrable gold, leaving not even a feather out of place. Telamon does not notice, of course, because, just like its successor, he knows it is too great to consider something trying to kill it as it tries to help .
The two land on the far shore, and Telamon gently sets him down, tending to his wounds with supplies it had begun to carry in this awful place. It’s a silent apology-- it doesn’t know what it will do to him, what it has done to him, and it doesn’t care, truly. But this is an act of selflessness that it believes needs to be repaid.
1x1x1x1 watches it like he’s never seen it before, and pretends not to notice the aspen trees turning to look at them.
---
… Yet, they almost can’t help themself as they try to slash Daemonshank across its pristine wings. It does nothing, of course, and they’re not quite sure why they tried, other than feeling a scratch they can’t quite itch, a whisper they can’t quite hear.
Telamon notices, godly offense rising in it. In one swift move, it turns over, allowing 1x1x1x1 to fall into the darkened waters. It ignores their gasps and splashes, watching impassibly as they drown. After no longer than a minute, its mind starts to still like their thrashes in the water, and it makes its way back to a cabin it can’t remember leaving.
---
1x1x1x1 explains their plan, and Shedletsky scoffs out a laugh. “You want my help in escape? You’d poison me, drown us both, the moment we left the shores.”
But the fight has already been killed in them, not unlike a rat breaking its teeth on the bars of its prison. They need out , and with desperation-- they’re not sure how much longer they can go, knowing their memories are being erased, knowing they're being controlled, in this way. “Do you think of me with such small-mindedness? I am already weakened, I won’t allow myself a slow suicide, even at the cost of accepting your help.”
He hums, and shrugs. “Well, you got me there,” he says. “Fine, I guess even you , the monster that you are, must be weak and helpless at some point.”
He takes them onto his back and swims into the turbulent waters, though their mind is elsewhere. Anger wants to simmer in their chest, but they are… exhausted. Tired of this charade of cat and mouse their captor has placed them in. They worry, even, that this is their last chance at escape. Would he not throw me off the moment the shore is in sight? They think to themself, weariness loosening their grip. After everything he has done to me, he still thinks I’m nothing more than what he made me. That I would rather kill us both, than get a taste of freedom.
Shedletsky leans back to avoid going head underneath an oncoming wave, not unlike a moment in another life, a time they don’t remember but fear all the same. Before they can even process what they’re doing, they unsheath Daemonshank and stab it clean through his chest in one swift movement. They didn’t have a moment more to think other than, if I am doomed to die, I will take him with me .
“I knew it,” he gasps, every movement a great pain to stay above the waves. He doesn’t know, can’t feel, if 1x1x1x1 is even still on his back. “You will never be anything more than a killer, a monster unable to see further than their hate. You’d stop at nothing to see me dead.”
---
1x1x1x1 explains her plan, and Shedletsky readily agrees, hoping to bring some peace to those back at the cabin. The journey is silent, grueling, as he swims along. But no sooner does the shoreline come into view, does he feel a prick of a sword and the familiar seizing of his muscles.
“ Fuck ,” he pants as he spits out water. “I knew I shouldn’t have trusted you. I’m making us die in this inhumane way just because I had hope for you. You know nothing more than the hatred I gifted you, and now, I’ve doomed us both to this.”
“You couldn’t help it,” she agrees mildly, watching the clouds above them watch back. “It’s in your nature to be so idiotic to think I was safe.”
---
Shedletsky thrashes in the water, doing more to drag them both down than keep afloat. “ Why? ” He asks, demands , refusing to sink until she answers. “Why did you lie? Why do you insist on killing me in these awful ways?”
1x1x1x1 chuckles with bleeding static, doing nothing to help him and readies herself for the sweet embrace of nothing she remembers happening before. “I was of two natures, my dear creator. One was to put your wrongdoing behind us, for the greater good of leaving this awful place, and the other raged so loud it demanded you dead at any cost. Both fought, and neither won.” Her laughs start to sound like sobs, to his drowning ears. “It would be nice, wouldn’t it? To have worked together, without your egotism or my hatred. Wouldn’t it just?”
---
The journey is already soured, chains tightening around them both. Still, he swims on and his passenger does not stop him. As he spots the shoreline in the distance, he asks, “What do you plan on doing when we get out of here? What’s your end goal?”
“It doesn’t matter to you, does it?” He shoots back. “You have never had the capacity to care about me, why start now?”
---
Or, in another life, “A new beginning,” he answers, “A vacation, a house in the mountains, a place that will never be tainted by you again.”
---
Or, in another life, “My end goal?” he repeats. “To kill more, to poison wells with what helps us now, to bring so much more carnage to the world that you will inevitably be culpable in.”
---
Or, in another life where their chains are replaced by raging, angry currents, “Nothing you and I will live to see, my dear creator.” he says, solemnly. “Already you tire, already I’ve bled too much, and the shore still escapes our vision. Is there a purpose to our struggle? We surge forward and yet our goal remains unreachable. Are we doomed to wade these waters forever?”
---
“I hate you,” 1x1x1x1 says idly as he swims, hand twirling his hair.
Shedletsky doesn’t even bother to glance at it. “I know,” and he does, all too well. If his loss of godhood wasn’t an indication, then surely his creation’s constant killing of him is.
It continues on as if he hadn’t spoken, “More importantly, I think I love you.”
He pauses at that, legs kicking just enough to keep them both afloat in the roaring waters. “Do you?” It’s an unbelievable thought that something made as it is can love.
“I do,” it says, and he looks over his shoulder to see a dazed, almost feverish look in its eye. “You can’t even begin to imagine how I feel. How I cling to you as if you are the only light to stave off the monsters worse than I. Is that not love? I cannot swim without drowning, and here my hands cling to your shoulders, letting you ferry me across. Is that not trust? I can not kill you without killing myself .” It chuckles a broken tune, burying its face into his neck. “Are we not inseparable in this?”
… He continues on his swim, silent even as the world threatens to drown them both.
---
Sweat bleeds into his eyes as he continues his swim, each stroke harder than the last. “I’m tired,” he murmurs, unable to feel his passenger on his back anymore. “1x? How far is the shoreline? I don’t know much more I have in me.”
“ Shh ,” 1x1x1x1 says, and he feels a strange relief as their arms curl around him in a mock hug. “You don’t have to be afraid.”
His muscles spasm with something more than just muscle exertion, that he can’t quite place in his foggy mind. “We’ve been at this for hours. Is there even an exit? Are we stuck out here, forever? This is worse than the rounds-- when will it end?”
They hush him again and again, drawing circles across his chest. The waters are oddly still, murkiness closing in on them. “I’ve been slowly poisoning you,” they say, “Our journey is as endless as our struggle.”
“You’ve--” He chokes on one part laughter, one part water in his lungs. “You’ve killed us both. Was one poisoning not enough? Was my godhood not tainted enough by you?”
They press their lips to the back of his neck, chilling him even as his body burns with poison. “We’ve killed each other, haven’t we? You will never be free of me, and I, you. Do we not drown in each other, in this way? Do you feel it? Do you feel me, coursing through your veins?”
“You’re insane,” he repeats from another life, “Absolutely crazy.” He opens his mouth for more, but can’t help laughing, gargling as he loses strength.
“Maybe we both are,” 1x1x1x1 whispers to an unhearing audience. “How could you trust a monster like me? We were made to hurt each other, my dear creator, at every moment, in every life. This is our love, a repeat of failures we are doomed to make. We are at fault, yet blameless all the same for our natures. We end this together, dear, and our curtains couldn’t have closed in any other way.”
---
“It’s funny,” Shedletsky says to the unmoving body on his back. Even the stars above are gone, leaving none to witness his words. “I can’t say I trust you, or that I would ever trust you. Or that I think of you more than the games you hunt me in. Yet, I always try your escape, don’t I? I do this, and I can’t say it’s more for me than you. Why do I do this? What do I gain by letting you nestle between the very things you destroyed? Even after everything, I let you poison me, let you drown us, let you maim yourself. Is this not my fault? Is it yours? Is this endeavor to leave not just a foolish dream?”
---
1x1x1x1 explains her plan, and Shedletsky laughs pitifully. “I actually can’t swim,” he says.
“Can’t, or won’t?”
He shrugs his shoulders, wincing, before pulling up his shirt. Long, deep slashes with messy stitches cover his torso, already tinted red with infection. “A little bit both, actually. I’m not much of a swimmer and with these, I think I’d pull the stitches just picking you up.”
Her eye narrows, “Does our captor not usually heal you?”
He sits himself down next to her, sitting shoulder to shoulder in a practiced comfort he’s never felt before. “Usually, yeah. Though you and everyone else kicked our ass and we didn’t even manage a single generator throughout all the games, so this is a punishment, I guess,” he explains. “We’ve got a plan in place, for next time, to get them done, but…”
“Hm.” She hums, and says no more on the matter. It’s part her fault, she knows, that these wounds haunt his body, and though she feels she shouldn’t care, she can’t help but wonder what the dropping feeling in her chest is. “My plan was going to fail from the start, then,” she says like a broken promise, instead. “And now, we await the inevitable.”
Shedletsky leans his head on her shoulder, and agrees, “Yeah… now we wait.”
---
1x1x1x1 explains its plans, and Shedletsky hesitates just enough for it to scoff and struggle to stand. “If you consider yourself too good to help me, then I--” As it speaks, its vision goes completely white and it crumples back onto the ground.
“ Shit ,” He says, and immediately helps it back into a sitting position, before he even realizes what he’s doing. He’s already pulling out some bandages, sparing no thoughts to their roles, and pushes away weak hands that try to stop him. “Stay still, you’re going to die if you keep bleeding out,” he says, killing the protests on its tongue.
There’s silence as he finishes and leans it against a nearby tree. Already, the waters are returning to their normal color, now that its blood is no longer flowing, and he can feel an oppressive air settle back over them.
“... You ruined my plans,” 1x1x1x1 says, tone dead and tired.
“I know,” he replies, sitting against a tree across from it.
“This was our one escape,” it continues.
“I know,” he repeats.
“I hate you,” it finishes.
“... I know,” he says again, as a beautiful lie.
---
A memory block cracks, and Shedletsky finds himself asking, “Do you know how many times we’ve done this?” He’s been swimming for hours, and a faint thought tells him they should’ve hit shore long ago. “How many times we’ve betrayed each other, in this way?”
1x1x1x1 purrs, sending shivers through his body. “A thousand, a million lives? It doesn’t matter, it never does.”
“... I’m glad it’s us,” he admits, letting them both just float. “Even though we forget, even though we can’t help but ruin each other, I’m glad I try this, with you.”
His creation laughs like it’s the saddest joke he’s ever told, their head resting on his neck. “I’d never die with anyone else, my love.” They sink the blade through themself, then further through to him, as well. “We deserve this, more than anyone.”
“More than anyone,” he agrees, letting the waters win.
---
An ex-god and his creation stand before each other, bodies of friends of the former surrounding the latter. It’s a scenario that plays out more than either of them bother to count, though as they clash blades, a fog seems to clear the area.
“... Sometimes it feels this is all there is,” Shedletsky says, dodging underneath Daemonshank as he swings his own attack. “We fight, I die, we try to leave, and we kill each other. Sometimes I feel we’re destined to fail your escape plan, to always end back here.”
1x1x1x1 hums, xer second blade blocking his swing. “Maybe we are, or maybe not,” xe replies, and follows the block with both swords swinging one after another. “Perhaps we haven’t found the right current, yet.”
He laughs as he parries swing after swing, arms shaking in exertion because of battle, instead of water. “And what, we just keep slamming our heads against the path until it works out? We’re doomed to fail, darling.”
Xe side steps a particularly badly timed swing, and stabs him clean through the chest. “Better doomed to fail, than to let our warden control us further,” xe says, slowly lowering him to the ground. “Your swordsmanship has improved, my dear. Maybe we can spar once we escape, without this charade of a game.”
He chokes on blood and reaches up to rub a thumb across xer face. “It’s a date.”
---
“Don’t you understand?” Shedletsky yells out, after a hundred lifetimes, frustration summoning his additional wings. “We can’t escape, not with me broken and you weakened.”
1x1x1x1 hisses, static coming out in waves. “And so what do you suggest, my dear creator? To give up now, when we’ve come so far?”
“ No ,” he breaks out, head turned towards the other, and unable to see the creeping shadows. “But we cannot keep doing this, you know this. We need a new plan.”
It laughs, tired and manic in the same breath. “And how do you suggest we remember this, hm? With a pen and paper? A mysterious tattoo?” Its hands clench and release his shoulders in a poor imitation of kneading. “Our captor will never allow a hint of what we know to be remembered.”
The shadows gather together, forming no other than the being it just mentioned. They grin, gaping maw poised directly over their floating figures. “How bold you both must be to not only try to escape, but discuss it so loudly, too. Have you forgotten whose domain you flee from? You cannot escape me any more than a tree can a forest fire.”
And darkness consumes them both.
---
“When did you know that you loved me?” Shedletsky asks on a particular day, when hypothermia threatens to steal more from him than 1x1x1x1 ever has.
They hug him closer, making it harder to swim but sharing warmth he needs. “My creation,” they say, “Or maybe when we met again, on the lakeshore. I hate you and love you in equal measure, though perhaps the line is so thin that I cannot tell anymore. You’re everything to me, a tick that won’t let go yet a lifeline I cling to. You call my blood poisonous, yet all that you are consumes me, needling me down until I’m nothing of who I thought I was. You’re a sickness, a disease that changes all that I am.”
“I see,” he murmurs, and says nothing more on the matter as the cold finally stops his movement.
---
An ex-god and his creation stand before each other, the former in front of his friends and the latter ready to hunt. A fog clears, though only for the two of them. It’s a scenario that repeats more and more as time goes on, as strength wanes over their chains.
“Hey, 1x,” Shedletsky greets like an old friend. Elliot shuffles behind him, and he spies in the corner of his eye as Noob edges away.
“Creator,” 1x1x1x1 returns, blades still unraised.
“... Truce?” He asks, his own blade still sheathed. The graveyard is silent, but for once, there is no oppressive feeling of being watched. Perhaps their captor is distracted with something else, though he can’t help but be somewhat bitter that it’d of course happen when they can’t leave these games.
“Hm,” his creation replies, though he knows enough of her tones by now to read her amusement.
He lets out a laugh. “Cool,” he says. He turns to the others, and gives a mock salute. “Truce is on, see you guys.”
“ What the fuck ,” Chance whispers.
Elliot shakes his head. “What? They agreed, just like that?”
“She,” Shedletsky corrects idly, though thinking on it, he’s not quite sure how he always knows her pronouns, other than a strange intuition.
The others are gaping at him, he notices. “ What ,” Elliot says again, looking more frazzled than when someone is injured and Chance’s gun decides to blow up on them.
“... Anyways.” He turns on his heel, lightly jogging over to 1x1x1x1, who has already sheathed her blades. There’s not much they can do in these contained games, and their warden will block their memories again once they’ve returned, so he doesn’t protest when she reaches for his hand. They both walk off, arms lightly swinging, to just relax before the chains are reconnected.
“WHAT THE FUCK,” Chance repeats at their backs.
---
“It feels like we’re on a never ending ride, fated to take these same steps over and over again,” Shedletsky confesses, as he walks them both into the water. He doesn’t quite remember the walk over, and he knows he won’t remember much after the day’s end.
1x1x1x1 hums tiredly, having lost more blood than planned by the time he’d arrived. “I know what you mean…” he murmurs, eye closed. “But what else can we do?”
“Nothing possible, I think,” he says, relaxing into the familiar strokes. “It just feels like hardly anything changes, sometimes. I always end up here, swimming to freedom, stuck with you.”
“Is that such a bad place to be?” his creation asks, nuzzling into his back, arms loosening. “Stuck with me?”
“No, not at all. There’s no one else I’d rather be stuck with,” he says, and waits for the other to go still before allowing himself to sink.
---
An ex-god and his creation stand before each other, and in quick form, the former falls to the poison coating the latter’s blades. The smell of blood breaks the dam keeping their memories shut, and one, maybe both, of them sigh in exhaustion.
1x1x1x1 sits next to him as he struggles to control his muscles again, to remove the blade in his chest. “Do you remember a time before these endless games, my dear?” It asks, head resting on its knees. “I fear I’m beginning to forget. Who drew first blood, in our first battle? What words had we given each other?” Its arms tighten around itself. “I don’t think I even remember the first time we met along the shoreline.”
Shedletsky’s arms struggle to raise, and it helps him grasp at the handle of Daemonshank, instead of cutting his hands to ribbons. “Does it matter?” he gasps out, pulling the blade from himself. “We’re here now, for better or for worse, together forever.” He forces himself to sit up, pulling his creation close. “Maybe one day we’ll see the other side, achieve new memories, but the past…” He chuckles through the pain, vision swimming. “It’s been so long. The details don’t matter, anymore, not to me.”
It hums, leaning into his embrace. It doesn’t quite agree, but it doesn’t disagree, either. Without its hatred, it’s not sure who it is. But… it likes discovering itself, in small moments such as this.
He smiles, closing his eyes. “Shall we try again, my darling?”
“... We shall,” it replies, and takes Daemonshank from his clammy hands to stab him clean through the heart.
---
For one reason or another, their journey across the waters has been doomed from the start, heavy rains giving way to hurricane-like waters. It’s something not new to either of them, though these waves are particularly worse than usual, stealing strength from Shedletsky in ways the poison could only hope to.
The worst part is-- their chains, their bindings, are still missing. There are no eyes in the clouds or ominous fog or finality closing in. It is just hatred and its creator, stuck in a rage that has nothing to do with either of them.
Eventually, his muscles seize, with nothing to do with his passenger. “I’m sorry, my love--” he wheezes, gasping gulps of water. “I think I’ve doomed us both--”
“It’s okay,” 1x1x1x1 says with uncharacteristic softness. “I shouldn’t have insisted we try anyways, that we push while our warden is distracted. I’m sorry I did this to you. I’m sorry I couldn’t help.” More apologies fall from its lips, like a prayer that won’t be heard.
“It’s not your fault,” he insists, doing nothing more than try to keep them both afloat. “It was the perfect moment; I thought I could get us out of here, for once. I thought this was the time. I thought-- we were so close .” His choking sounds more akin to sobs, and it holds on tighter, closing its eye in the spray of water.
“We truly were, weren’t we?” It replies with no shoreline in sight, a sweet lie to bring comfort to his final moments. “We almost made it, we really did…”
---
After ages, weeks , of collecting his own blood, of hiding, of games he hates and distractions for his jailer, he stands on the edge of the shoreline. Everything is ready-- he’s chosen a spot close enough to journey yet far enough to be away from curious eyes. All he needs to do is pour his collection, and the path will be clear.
Despite himself, however, he waits. First for minutes, then it bleeds into hours, waiting for something he doesn’t know. Confusingly dishearteningly, nothing happens, or more importantly, no one shows up, and he shakes his head, more confused than ever on why he would be waiting for someone to show up to an escape plan he has hardly tried to think about, let alone speak to anyone about.
As he pours his blood, and the waters begin to clear, he’s overcome with a strange pain in his chest. It buries itself in his rib cage, demanding his attention as it sprouts to his limbs, leaving his arms shaking and a buildup of-- of something behind his eye.
He growls-- what is wrong with him? Still, he drops the rest of his collected blood, and turns on his heel. He’s… he’s missing something, he thinks, something he can’t escape without. He needs to find it, before continuing on, even if that means starting from the beginning.
---
1x1x1x1 explains their plan, and Telamon… pauses, for just a moment. There is a memory here it has yet to grasp, a wiggling worm calling for its attention. “Telamon notices you have not hurt yourself,” yet , something whispers in it.
“... Yes,” they say, blades sheathed and able to stand on their own.
It hums an angel’s choir, as if pondering what words to use. “Telamon… does not belong here,” it continues, and does not say, so Telamon should not be the one to leave , nor the blasphemous, Telamon is undeserving to leave.
“Yes,” they repeat, and know what words are left unsaid. They don’t know this god, not more than a few twisted games and a whiff of memories lost in the lake of failures. Still… Shedletsky comes from it, and hints of him mar its words, its actions-- they’re not quite sure how much is Telamon and how much is repressed memories of Shedletsky leaking through.
Though they suppose it doesn’t matter-- Telamon is not real, not anymore.
“Would you…” they pause, taking one last glance at the murky waters. “... like to go on a walk?”
Its many wings flutter gently in the non-existent winds. “Telamon… would like that.” Its face is covered from the shadows of its hood, but they can still see its smile peaking out beneath.
They both walk the shoreline side by side, and for reasons it can’t fathom, it reaches for their hand. Their grasp is cool to the touch, though something sings with reverence in it. It doesn’t deserve to be here, to enjoy this moment, but Telamon has always been selfish.
---
“What about you, my dear?” 1x1x1x1 asks a thousand lifetimes later, grip loose as Shedletsky kicks at the things nipping at his heels. “Do you love me?”
He doesn’t hesitate to answer, “I don’t think I knew I loved you until recently.” He barely winces as the underwater creature bites into his shin. “It took time to love the very thing I hated most about myself, the very thing I nearly killed myself to remove.” It’s a confessional that’s said as casually as discussing the weather.
“Hm,” she says, and after a moment, continues, “There’s others places I could go, shorelines closer than ours. Waters more safe, more out of the eyes of our warden.”
“But then I wouldn’t be able to reach you.”
“But then you wouldn’t be able to reach me,” she agrees, stabbing one creature as another takes its place.
He laughs, suddenly. “This is a weird form of therapy, isn’t it? To love the very thing I used to hate more than anything. To be vulnerable, to trust you, to let you rest between the very things you destroyed.” He gasps in pain at a particularly bad bite. “I don’t think I’d ever trust my life to anyone else, not like this.”
“The same could be said for me,” she says, as the creatures bite more to drag them under. “My whole existence, my whole being, was made to hate you. And look at us now.”
“Look at us now,” he repeats through gargled breaths.
---
The waters feel almost too calm as the other shore comes into view, like it is only just the two of them that exists in this world. It’s a journey taken too often for Shedletsky to feel exhausted anymore, though it’s still a grueling swim made in silence.
Like many times before, and many times to come, he feels but a small cut in his back, and his muscles start to seize from snaking poison. It’s mental exhaustion that brings him to say, “Sometimes, I think we try to fail, to get another shot at this, to get our perfect ending.”
The passenger on his back says nothing, of course. They’d long been cold by the time he’d made it to their spot, and it was only his swimming that moved their blade.
“Why do we try?” He mutters as he has many times before, head sinking underneath the waters. For us , his thoughts answer, For our love, as broken as it is. For freedom, for an ending, for a beginning, for the moments we don’t remember and the moments we do.
---
Shedletsky’s legs tremble as they leave the waters, numb from constant use. He does his best to be gentle with the other, setting them down before flopping next to them, himself. He’s breathing heavily, eyes unfocused on a sky that looks just a shy brighter than before.
“We made in,” he says with a breathless laugh, chest pounding. He can feel it-- or rather, he can’t ; the chains constraining him, the snakes around his arms, the blocks on his memory, they’re all gone.
“We did,” 1x1x1x1 says, though he knows enough of them to hear the solemnness in their voice.
He forces himself to a sitting position, taking their face in his hands. “What’s wrong, 1x?” he asks. “We’re free . We’ve gotten what we both tried so hard to get; our chains are broken.”
“Yes,” they agree, “Our chains are broken.” And do not say, There is nothing keeping you here, now. You don’t have to be stuck with me. Our love was forged through repetitive currents, and would not last out here. And they try not to think, I love you. I don’t want this to end. I’ll miss our routine. I’ll miss our betrayals, our understandings, our shared poison.
He chews on his words a moment. Then, in a rush of breath, he says, “Come with me.”
“What?” They ask, just shy of complete bewilderment.
“ Come with me ,” he repeats, allowing his hands to drop. “I know you want peace, a new beginning. But come with me, help me save the others, stay .”
A strange sort of… disappointment settles in their chest. “... Okay,” they agree.
“And… stay when it’s over, too,” he whispers, an intense look in his eyes, trying to will them to understand. “Stay when everything is settled, when it’s just me and you left. Help me finish this, and then start a new beginning, with just the two of us.”
A fragile sort of smile finally graces their face. “Okay,” they breathe, closing their eye. They haven’t learned how to live without their hate, not really. But with this freedom comes all the time to learn, to finally… grow.
“Okay,” he repeats, and holds them tight.
When their strengths are returned, the two will move on, begin making plans to get the others free. For now, they rest in each other, a moment of healing that ends one story, and begins another.
---FIN---