A/N: Aha. Ahaha. This isn't late. This totally isn't late. I don't know what you're talking about. Ahahaha.
Sorry about the delay, guys… I'd say I have an excuse, but that would be a lie. *sheepish grin* I'm beginning to have trouble writing this, which is worrying. NO FLU, YOU MUST CONTINUE THIS RARGH
Um. I had something else to say a moment ago. It's gone now. Rargh. Stuff proofreading. Have a chapter. Ohyes, plot or no plot? That is the question. You'll understand shortly. Be sure to answer.
I trudged across the plains with my head down and fists clenched, partly because of the driving bloody rain and partly because I was annoyed at everything. Mud squelched disgustingly up between my bare toes and my violet fringe had plastered itself stubbornly over my eyes as one of the smaller houses came into view and the bowed golden heads of drenched wheat accompanied it; finally sharp fragments of gravel shifted beneath my clawed feet and I stomped down the street, climbing the steps to my house, wrenching open the door and slamming it shut behind me. It made a very satisfying bang. Scowling, I stomped over to my bed and fell upon it huffily, arms crossed.
You look like a petulant child.
"I am a petulant child," I muttered, drifting off to sleep.
Hours later I woke to the cheery sound of birdsong and that pretty little tune I believe is from Skyrim or something. It rather ruined the charm when I found out it was Triston imitating the sounds. I waved him away and he dissipated, grumbling about just trying to cheer me up as I sat up in bed and-
Crack-
Fell back down again with a yelp of surprise. I opened my eyes again and stared upwards to see a fence post hanging from the ceiling, a piece of paper attached to it by a string. Bewildered, I reached up and tugged at the string to snap it, unrolling the piece of paper.
Because I'm nice.
-H
Yes, his handwriting was just that thick. Still utterly dumbfounded, I slid out from under the fence post, broke it (though it didn't drop anything) and headed outside.
Well, I opened the door, anyway.
Who was to be standing there but our favourite white-robed testificate, emerald eyes gazing quite happily at me?
"GAH!" I yelled, springing backwards and falling over the bed. Leaping into people's embraces is for those who aren't terrified by the sight of them. He stared at me blankly as I rolled over and got to my feet, holding my head. "Ow… don't scare me like that, Gregory!" The testificate looked heartbroken. He was surprisingly good at adopting a puppy-dog expression.
That was when I realised.
"Wait, you're here!"
You only just noticed?"
"Does that mean you're all back?" I exclaimed, overjoyed. His reply was to turn away and head down the steps. I followed him, not bothering to grab any of my items, and he led me to the well where Reverend Gaston and two farmers waited. They bounced up and down at the sight of me, one of the farmers running around in a hyperactive circle before tripping over the well and falling flat on his face. Grinning, I raced over to greet them, not quite sure whether I wanted to hug them or not and settling for patting them on the back instead.
I attempted to strike up a conversation, but that proved rather difficult since their only replies were blank stares. Eventually I gave up and, farewelled by the testificates' excited jumping, strolled quite contentedly back towards my house.
Well, what's the plan now? A desperate venture into the depths of the Nether to exact your revenge and obtain blaze rods? A quick jaunt into the bowels of the earth to prepare for a great journey?
"Nothing of the sort!" I proclaimed, wrenching open the door and heading inside. I hooked it quite elegantly with a clawed foot and tugged it closed again. I quite inelegantly fell flat on my face when it wouldn't budge. As Mélodieux commented about how utterly skilful that movement had been I moaned and got back on my feet, yanking the door shut forcefully. It made a hideous sound as it grated on the wood beneath it. Thanks for your cooperation, door. I really appreciate it. No, really. As thanks I will allow you to go die in the Nether.
Now that you've finished threatening inanimate objects, what is your plan?
"Elementary, my dear pestilence!" I said for the second time, adopting an English accent and miming holding a pipe in a Sherlock-esque manner. "I'm going to stuff logic and procrastinate. Build up the village, create weird crap, install mods, I'm going to do everything I can to avoid going back to the Nether and affiliating with Herobrine. Sound good to you? It sounds good to me." I folded my arms across my chest and smiled triumphantly.
It sounds like the idea of a coward and idiot, so it must have come from you. There goes any semblance of a plot this story had.
"ACHIEVEMENT GET! Uh… wait, can't say 'you just got burned' again… 'Boss Retort'!"
Oh, lovely. How creative of you, Triston. That really shows your imaginative capabilities.
"It does?" Triston sounded overjoyed. "Why, thank you!"
"That was sarcasm, Triston," I informed him, hefting open the chest – everything was rusty and uncooperative – and rummaging around inside.
"Oh…"
I sniggered at how crushed he sounded. Wait, that was horribly sadistic. "You're very imaginative, Triston," I reassured him, voice muffled by the chest.
"Awww, thanks!"
Liar.
Shushing her, I extracted from the dusty innards of the wooden container four dulled golden ingots and a cloud of dust and cobweb that made me double over in hacks and coughs. With the utmost grace and majesty, mind.
Like a tortoise has grace and majesty.
Exactly like a tortoise has grace and- oh. Oh. You little-
"Language!"
"I was hardly considering swearing," I defended myself, slamming the ingots down on the crafting table and melding them into boots in a very unspectacular manner.
Wait, you made golden boots? Oh, you distracted me! You sneaky sod!
"Take that!" I crowed, yanking the (slightly too small) things onto my feet with much hopping around, flailing, yelling and falling over. Finally I had them on and danced a short jig to make sure they fitted. When I fell over yet again I decided they probably didn't.
Mélodieux clapped slowly.
With that I quickly crafted a batch of iron tools, admiring my workmanship (though Mélodieux insisted they were crap) and strode back out into the fresh air, trying to ignore the tightness of my boots. I looked around contentedly, wondering what to do first.
Go fight Herobrine, coward.
I laughed. "No way in the Nether. I know, I'll build more houses so we can get some more villagers and maybe a big creepy iron golem!" I chirped, turning on my heel and setting off for the forest. Awkward footsteps noisy on the grass, I passed a small herd of pigs out on the plain and soon the trees were in sight. My gaze flicked from plant to plant as I approached them, determining with my absolutely expert eye (because you all know that I'm an expert botanist Yes, expert in not knowing anything about botany) which tree would be best to cut down. Well, that one looked good, I decided, making a beeline for it, and-
Wait.
What.
Leaning against its trunk was an odd form, garbed in brown and bald-headed. Its hands were hidden in its sleeves, arms folded across its chest that rose and fell gently as it breathed in and out…
"A testificate?" I exclaimed, bewildered.
No, it's a pig.
The testificate leapt to attention at my cry, looking around frantically for a moment before noticing me, jumping in surprise, whipping around again and running straight into the tree. It staggered backwards a few steps before shaking its head to clear it, turning again and noticing me. At this it panicked, running around in a frenetic circle.
"Loony!" I concluded joyously, dashing over to him and tackling him in a hug. He made an odd squealing noise and squirmed in my grip, managing to throw me off and hop backwards a few steps, glowering at me with those bright emerald eyes.
"Oh, so this is how you want to do this?" I queried, taking out my iron pick and letting it grow to full size in my hand. Loony set back his shoulders, stood with his feet apart and stared at me defiantly.
"BRING IT ON!" I yelled a battle cry, raised my pickaxe and charged.
He sidestepped.
I smashed into the tree.
Staggering backwards with a groan, I dropped the pick to hold onto my nose. Loony made another squealing noise and began to run around in a circle again behind me and I stood bent double and feeling sorry for myself.
I cried out when a surprisingly heavy form tackled me to the ground and knocked the air out of me. Loony rolled off me again and kept rolling; when I pushed myself up on my hands I stared blankly at the insane testificate rolling back and forth beside me. After a moment I'd regained my breath (don't question the blessing of Minecrafter healing) and strode over to Loony, seizing him by one leg and beginning to drag him towards Ir Qas. Anyone who has ever dragged their friends by the feet before will know how horrendously heavy a person can be, and it felt like Loony had been eating all the pumpkin pies recently to boot. Then there was all the fun of hauling him up metre-high surfaces and the added bonus of him squirming, squeaking and thrashing like a captured animal.
Thanks, Loony, for making that trip so much fun.
Finally we were back at the village and the Farmers Bob (because, if you will recall, every farmer is named Bob), Reverend Gaston and Gregory were amassed at the edge of the houses, probably intrigued by the hideous racket Loony was making.
Okay, that was enough. "Happy now, you sod?" I snapped at him, dumping him on the ground a few blocks from the houses. He stopped squealing immediately, managed to spin himself around for a few seconds and got to his feet, smiling at the other testificates and squeaking happily. Oh my goodness. That was the most adorable noise I had ever heard. Suddenly overcome by a girlish urge to hug cute things, I embraced him and informed him that he was utterly adorable.
He bit me.
Yelling in surprise more than pain, I pushed him away – straight into one of the farmers, who fell over – and leapt backwards. "What was that for?" Gregory glared at Loony and trotted over to him, kicking him in the shin when he got to his feet. Loony squeaked and ran around in a panicked circle, Gregory soon joining him to chase him off into the village.
Ah, Gregory. So protective.
Actually, he was using it as an excuse to get away from you.
Oh, shut up. Suddenly the sun was setting and I decided it would be a good idea to head home. What an utterly unproductive day.
As usual.