Work Text:
Egg sits quietly, staring out over the world. His legs dangle over the edge of the walkway, he knows there’s a drop of a couple dozen blocks underneath him, one that he might survive with the heavy netherite boots on his feet if he falls just right. But he doesn’t look down.
He’s looking up and ahead, past the leaves that rustle gently in the wind. Sunlight filters through them, colouring his suit in gentle, warm tones. He doesn’t take off his white gloves but the warmth goes right through them.
Beyond the branches of the enormous tree, clouds are dotted across a blue sky. He’s not really trying, but he can make out a couple shapes in them. He doesn’t have much else to do, anyways, not with Wemmbu doing his own thing who-knows-where. Oh, there’s one that looks like a dog. And a crown. Another looks like a dragon, though it’s a fat one with pretty small wings. He huffs out a laugh at his own thoughts.
Footsteps approach, heavy thuds of netherite on planks. He can tell whose they are just by that alone. Wemmu is always in a hurry. At least they’re not hurried enough to be worrying, he’d already be on his feet if that were the case.
For an unbothered moment, it’s almost quiet. Wemmbu stops somewhere behind him, his breaths heavy, the shrill sound of a sword being put into its scabbard slicing through the air. He can feel eyes on him, and he doesn’t have to look back to know he’s probably frowning heavily.
“What are you doing?”
Egg could laugh. He doesn’t. Instead, he shrugs, then pats the spot beside him. “Resting. Looking at the clouds.” He doesn’t wait for Wemmbu to sit by him, and half of him doesn’t think he will at all. “Do you think it has meaning when people see shapes in the clouds?”
It’s a stupid question, he’s very good at those. Which means he fully expects Wemmbu to dismiss the question or call it dumb, maybe he’ll push him off the platform just for fun, because that’s something he enjoys doing—Mane did too, when he was still here. But he doesn’t press for an answer. It’s just conversation anyways, it’s whatever. He simply likes looking at the clouds from underneath the canopy. It gives him something else to focus on, gives him a chance to forget about the mafia and all its horrors if even for a couple seconds.
Still, Wemmbu steps over. He groans as he leans down to plop next to him. One leg goes over the edge to dangle next to Egg’s while the other stays pulled up to his chest—he’s ready to rush back to his feet if he needs to. There’s a heavy sigh when he finally relaxes, as much as he can relax anyway.
“Nah,” is his simple reply. Egg can’t say he’s disappointed not to be made fun of.
It makes him look over. On Wemmbu’s much better crafted netherite armour are splatters of blood that he knows weren’t there this morning. There’s new dents and scratches too. Silently and only for a short moment, Egg wonders how close to breaking the armour is.
“What shapes do you see?” he asks as he turns back to the landscape. It’s changed a little, but only a little. The cloud that looked like a dog now looks more like a malnourished horse.
Wemmbu scoffs. He lets his head fall backwards, and a mumble of “this is useless,” escapes him that Egg decides to ignore. “I don’t know, Egg. I see … Ash’s dead body in that cloud over there,” he says when he forces himself to look forward again. At that, he turns to Egg with a raised eyebrow, waiting for him to comment.
“That’s nice.”
A sarcastic hum. “It would be, if it wasn’t a cloud and actually really him.”
At least Egg can laugh at that one. “Yeah, that would be nice.” He shakes his head. The clouds drift by lazily. If only this can be something they do every day, without worry of invisible players flying by to ruin their days once again. Quietly, he wonders how long it will take them before they’re plunged back into a fight unwillingly.
Wemmbu doesn’t say anything else. Egg fights the urge to scoot closer. This is about as close as he dares to sit. But it’s fine, they’re fine. Things are fine, and it’s the most ordinary day they’ve had since the fall of their empire.