…
Baking Needs
…
Netherrack crumbled and burned around him. A constant reminder of the instability and ever-changing landscape of the fire realm. The plumes of delta ash wafted in the distance. Swirling and curling as streams of lava flowed through the landscape. Empty. Dead, hot, and empty. A scorching plateau void of any hospitality. No forests grew near, no creatures dared roam this one area. It was a real hellscape. A wasteland.
Perfect.
A mood like his did not offer any leeway for interruptions. Any creature that dared approach would certainly feel his frustration bubbling over as they ran squealing into the distance.
Herobrine kicked at the loose rocks as he stalked by. His hunched poise and irritable mood sent unconscious signals of warning to all nether inhabitants to scurry away or pay with their lives. Not that any creatures would inhabit this despicable area. He preferred the silence but hated the desolation. The scarred landscape was an insult to his eyes. It did nothing to quell the anger boiling over inside of him.
Earlier in the day, birds soared over the thick treetops. Dappled sunlight filtered onto the forest floor. Patches of dirt and grass splattered about as he walked off the trail. No humans existed for miles. Only animals and monsters. A calm walk through the forest, grounding, real.
His foul mood began in the Overworld when a buzzing tingled at the tips of his fingers and raised his hackles. The aftertaste of artificial curled on his tongue; something was up.
It happened so fast, a whirlwind.
One moment he was standing peacefully in the middle of a prairie, enjoying the beautiful landscape dotted with flowers and fluttering birds. The next second, a blunt force slammed into his chest and forced him prone on his back, gasping for air. A group of otherworldly beings towering over him in blinding light.
Aetherians.
As false as their name may be, that's what they called themselves. Believing they were higher than any creature with a beating heart, be it mortal or animal. Their forms could not blend fully through the code, translucent flesh adorned in solid armor.
Golden plating with lavish ribbons and silks. Sharp, ornate weapons aimed at his throat. Despite centuries of innovation making such armor efficient, it screamed over-done. A platoon of high-ranking guards. The kind willing to risk tooth and nail for renown. "Try-hards" as Alex would name it if she ever saw them.
"What is the meaning of this?!" Herobrine cried out in disbelief. Unable to keep up his aura of superiority because of the suddenness of the attack. Survival instincts kicking in.
"Watch your words, demon." One specter declared, "Your comings and goings of this dimension are raising suspicion, they may have disgraced you from your rank but know you will never be free of our jurisdiction."
Herobrine snorted, attempting to shove the blades away from his throat. "Enough of this pompous bullshit. What do you want?"
"We want nothing. This is but a warning from the leaders of the aether. Be grateful, demon, that we will not cast you into the Nether for such a foul tongue. Your actions may force our hand and have you chained up in the void once again."
"How dare you!" Herobrine sat up, forcing his throat against the blade. "You lot of sniveling galoots! This insubordination and utter defiance of rules should be severely punished if your superiors ever heard of it!"
Silence fell over the group. As Herobrine stared hard at the one who had spoken. A silent, staring contest. A war between white eyes and an armored shadow.
"Must I dumb this down for you?" The demon growled, sparks accenting his words. "I believe even the likes of you can understand. Fuck off. My actions incur nothing worthy of this hostility."
The guard thrust his lance into the demon's throat, forcing his head back and eliciting a single bead of red.
Upon giving a brief glance at the rest of the guards, Herobrine lowered his eyes in submission. Slinking back further into the earth. Placing his hands up to show he did not want to fight. He had decided long ago that he wanted nothing to do with these wretches.
"We will heavily monitor your activities." The guard spat out. Taking away their blade and motioned for the others to do so. "This will be your only warning."
And in another flash, the aether beings disappeared. Such fanfare for a simple scolding, or whatever the hell they meant. Teleporting back to their stale, artificial cesspool of arrogance and egos. Herobrine waited a full couple of minutes before allowing himself up and retreating into the shadows to lurk and sulk.
To say the encounter ruined his day would be a massive understatement. Coming and going between here and the nether? He'd been doing it for so long. Why would they get off their lazy asses to come and scold him for behaving? He was just standing there for fuck's sake!
Definitely an entire group of "try-hards". Believing that confronting him would do wonders for their status. Oh, he wished those rats would just run up to their superiors like dogs begging for a treat only to be punished for going against the very basics of rules: never leave the aether without explicit permission. Herobrine knew very well that they were far below the line that allowed such comings and goings.
So the demon prowled around the broken landscape. The perfect place for him to mope and let off steam. Destruction followed in his wake. Smoke wafted off his body as he glared and pounced at every brave creature in sight. The netherrack was scarred and burning. Large boulders lay away from their beds, pillars upset and cracking, pieces of soul sand sifting into the craters. He ignored the withered bodies lying in the flames. Ghasts were the most insufferable destructive bastards in this entire realm, except for him. Steve would digress; he was quite the pain-in-the-ass.
A looming thought spilled a terrible taste in his mouth. The aether's threat of the chaining back down here in this place. Fire licked at his clothes as he passed, a welcome from the soul of the fire realm. He was here voluntarily. If he had stayed any longer, that meadow would look quite similar to the battleground he had just witnessed.
If he ended up chained, who knows how long it would take for him to weasel himself out of the nether. Portals would not respond to his commands. The link between dimensions temporarily severed. It had taken him as long as decades to crawl out. The miner and his sibling would surely be dead by then, if that was the case. The monologue only stressed him out more.
Friends... any mutual relationship was impossible to the demon. Humans would run screaming at the very thought of his presence. To lose what precious chance at "normal", bizarre as it was, would have devastated him beyond belief.
That was not a phrase to take lightly.
Don't even get him started on the piglin groups squabbling again. Before he had taken over and enforced his rule, the brutes were tearing apart the ever-chaotic world with their petty squabbles. Though the bastions they inhabited were from a by-gone era of war, he concluded, each clan viciously warred with another.
He whipped them back into shape, but it was a full-time job to keep them in their place. If he was gone, the entire ecosystem of the Nether would fall into ruin. They would kill each other until they were overtaken by disease or none were left. Or even over hunt other denizens out of spite or necessity from constant starvation and scarcity. All from plundering and pillaging each other.
Speaking of which-
Squeals and battle cries echoed across the landscape as Herobrine entered a forest. Deep snorts of a pursued hoglin and the thundering steps of a pursuing group of hunters. Fungal trees grew tall and high, mimicking the thick and towering trunks of spruce in the Overworld. Their branches comprised bulbous growths that formed the drooping head of the mushroom tree. Growths of bulbs sprouted across the tree's heads and stems, glowing fungi thrumming with soft yellow light.
The head of a piglin peeked from the boughs of red. Long tusks protruded from its mouth as it adorned its mane in gold and braids. The large battle-ax strapped on its back told of its status. A leader, a brute.
Herobrine stood passively as he waited for the brute to approach. Respect for strength. The piglin's flesh was littered with scabs, scars, and voids of fur scorched away from decades in this realm.
It snorted a greeting. The demon bowed his head in reply, gesturing to speak.
Herobrine listened intently as it unloaded its grievances to the demon. Food scarcity was never unheard of, a constant struggle as settled farming was impossible and hoglins had moved on from this area and into competition territory.
Another wandering group of piglins had settled nearby and took the stock of hoglins for themselves, causing a war between the two families.
Herobrine sighed. "I'm sorry, but I cannot fight on your behalf. You have only recently risen to your status, but my purpose is balance, never favorites. I can offer mediation over sharing the herd."
Unhappy with this response, the piglin wandered off back the way it came. Grumbling how the demon prince should understand that war was almost always the answer in this unforgiving world.
Herobrine shook his head as he walked back into the wasteland. There was enough war between the land itself and those that roamed it.
Too much noise, too much heat, ash, and dirt. Too much. It was all too much.
Clocks were of no use within this realm. Time was an unknown variable. Watches and clocks would break as cogs and gears sputtered and locked as the subtle ticking disrupted the natural chaos. Delicate machinery warped in the exposed heat.
He had been walking non-stop. He gauged about morning in the Overworld. His coordinates had shifted a couple hundred, and he was sauntering pretty slowly. Eventually, calming down. He had already hit the worst of his tantrum earlier and he rode the sudden rush of relief after collapsing another cliff so nothing could really ruin it further.
Willing himself into an uncommon state, Herobrine zipped across the landscape with teleportations. Blink, blink, blink. Each jump was a well-calculated surge. It took him a good dozen minutes to find his fortress he inhabited and weaved through the hallways till he found the portal room. With a snap of his fingers and the portal burst to life; the vortex asked 'where to?' and he had the answer without needing to think. A place he frequented often as of late.
Through the glossy haze, like a blurry window, was a warped shape of an average homestead. So different from anything else in all the realms he'd visited. A small garden hanging off the side and a simple paddock where a handful of cows and sheep wandered within the fenced area.
Herobrine stepped through the portal and the rush of cold air felt wonderful. Melting away the heat of his frustration. He felt a weight lift off his chest. Still there. But not crushing.
Turning around, it was only trees and a dense forest. No portal in sight, just the way he preferred. The obsidian rings were always an eyesore out in the open. Not to mention proof of his presence. And if the aether was monitoring him closer...
Nevermind that, Herobrine teleported and stepped up to the door, knocking. No answer. He knocked harder and remained silent. Were they both out? Neither of the humans' horses was visible in the distance and the equines typically roamed together and never strayed from the barn. Herobrine tried to open the door, only to find it locked. Hm.
Herobrine looked through a window and warped inside. Why need a key when he could teleport inside whenever he wanted, and there was no one inside to be snippy with. He knocked after-all.
Though he strained his ears, no breathing or shuffling came from anywhere in the house. Dead quiet. So they were gone. No matter, he would sit on the couch and wait. He could move some furniture a few inches off. Replace Alex's inkwells with obnoxious glow ink. Maybe if they took especially long, switch out all the tools for wooden ones. They enjoyed the antics as much as he did, despite their protests when they happened. It had become a sort of prank war and Herobrine loved a good competition. So did Alex.
Wandering around suited his need to still have some momentum going. Slowly trotting around the house. Up the stairs, peeking into each of the bedrooms and closets, inspecting, being nosy. He'd done it plenty of times before, yet things shifted subtly. They always did. Signs of life. It was reassuring.
He even circled around to the barn outside to inspect the livestock's resources. Fresh water and hay. They could get most of what they needed from the nutritious grass in the open paddock.
Herobrine returned with a teleport back inside.
Steve was meticulous about having things put away and orderly. Clothing folded, boxes stacked, everything had a place, and they expected it to be there. Beds made, clothing washed and hung, everything squared away. Just the way he liked it. Alex lived a much different lifestyle, always on the move, not much energy reserved for scrutinizing the placement of anything. But Steve's tendencies rubbed off. It was much easier to find what you needed in a hurry if it was always where you stored it.
His path slowly made its way into the kitchen. Eyes glazing over everything until one little thing popped out of the pattern. A small parchment. The near chicken-scratch was clearly Steve's in a rush.
" Hey, I'll be in the mountains for the next few days getting emeralds and sweet-berry hunting. Should be back Wednesday. Alex, I found your journal under your pillow. Brine, don't you dare my things out of place again or I'm locking the door and closing the curtains. Signed Steve. P.S. Alex, if you eat all the berries again, I will kick you out until you find more. I am dead set on making sweet-berry pastries this season. "
Herobrine huffed a laugh as he put down the note. Looks like it's going to be the glowing ink then. He might as well cozy up and wait for the days to pass by. It was Monday, and by the looks of it, Alex wouldn't show for a while either.
Maybe he could do a classic water bucket on the bedroom doors? No, it would be too suspicious. Steve closes all the doors before he leaves. Sticky handles? Too messy. He could whittle out some tiny pigs and leave them everywhere and confuse the hell out of them. Choices, choices.
The rest of the day, Brine lounged around taking a deep nap. Unable to do so in the nether with all the noise and heat. Comforted by his surroundings. The smell of the humans. The coziness of the space. The second day he made good on that glowing ink idea and spent the rest of the day cleaning the iridescent stains from his trousers after a messy pour. Third and fourth day were the small pigs along with doing extra chores for them. He was desperately bored. The fifth is when he got suspicious.
Wednesday had long passed and still not a peep from either human. Steve was a grown man. He could handle himself. Alex could flirt her way out of death itself. But the more Herobrine dwelled on it, the threat of the guard lingered. What if something hurt him? Trapped in a cave-in? Maybe his limbs were being gnawed on by a colony of silverfish? What if...?
No. Don't be ridiculous. Neither human needed some strange anomaly, mothering their every move. They survived this long, they can survive more.
And yet… he had seen how hard survival was and the scars it had etched into their bodies. The long vertical slit down Alex's right eye, a miracle it still worked. The gash across Steve's nose which led to a whistle when he breathed at times.
In the end, Herobrine's mind was made up. He would find the miner and hang around until he returned home. So off towards the northern mountains he went.
...
Chill winds swept through the valley. Wonderful deep greens blanketed the narrow expanse of gray and speckled with white icy snow. Tall pointed evergreens climbed up the mountain-sides, reaching high. Their symphony of varying peaks mimicking the snow-capped summits far above.
A baby-blue sky of rolling clouds backdropped the peaks. Some of the cottony clouds rolled over the tall peaks, and others obscured entire summits from his vision. He filled his canteen with fresh chilly water from the river that ran between the two mountains, slowly carving out the valley as its crystal clear water rushed along.
Steve hugged his jacket closer. The thick fur lining inside snuggled against the underlayer, a barrier of warmth. Brown padded leather on the outside with thick gloves was a must in this scenery. A knitted blue wool hat upon his head and extra iron armor sat as a barrier to his jeans. Cold could not penetrate his dutiful barriers.
He crammed ores and materials into his backpack, splitting it at the seams. He attached his pick to the bag and a sword at his hip. Not a worry in his mind with the sun high overhead. He was making his way from the cave he had been scampering around in for the last time on this trip.
He returned to the natural clearing where his tent and hammock sat between two large spruce trees. High enough away from zombies to be an easy meal and plenty of repellants for any other curious creatures.
Crisp grass crunched beneath his boots. Twitters and songs of birds above him. He felt good, better than good.
His horse knickered a greeting before returning to the grass it was munching on. A beautiful sorrel coat with a splotchy patch of white on its rump. Its legs were three white socks while one front leg remained brown. It shook its mane and flicked its tail. Though the sweet grass was a wonderful pastime, the lure of home sat on the equine's mind as well.
Steve swiftly began packing his camp and saddling his horse, ready to make the trek back through the mountains all the way home. He undid the knot on the cover of his hammock and let all the canvas fabric sag.
A creature peered through the foliage of the forest floor. His horse whinnied as it sensed the creature, throwing its head and stomping. It danced in its place as it dug its hooves into the earth, throwing its head around.
Dark green moss grew over its dabbled scaly skin. Grass and plants attached to its flesh to camouflage into the earth, in the tall grass. But its bright green skin hidden beneath the light layer of moss did not escape the miner's peripherals.
Steve did not turn around as the softly tousled grass crunched behind him. Slow methodological steps creeping up behind him. He curled his fingers into a fist as he halted, untying his hammock.
"Tsssss..."
The man leapt around, arm raised, and slugged a hard punch into the creature's skin. He felt hard, leathery skin and thin bones beneath his fist as the creature stumbled back. The creeper's frowning face scrunched as its body cavity swelled again.
Steve kicked it as far as he could, ran, and braced himself.
"BOOM!"
Through some miraculous feat, the steaming furious blast of sulfur thrusted into his jackets and pants, singeing the top layer in ashy debris. The force of the blast sent him only a few inches off his footing, but his skin remained unharmed.
Blinking away the dust, a large ring of scorched grass sat in the creeper's place. It was always the young ones that were explosion happy. Detonating at everything that was humanoid and moved, even attacking skeletons and zombies.
Steve rolled his shoulders, shrugging off the jitters. Not all that affected a very common occurrence.
He turned around to a tall figure gripping his shoulders with fervor.
"Gwah!"
"Steven! Nether, are you hurt?"
Now that had his soul leaving his body. Steve stood frozen as his heart spiked and nearly dropped to the pit of his stomach. It took another second for his lungs to cooperate and then wiggle himself out of the demon's iron grip.
The stench of burnt plant matter, flesh, and ash lingered around the meadow. Debris still swirled in the wind as dust settled in the passing seconds.
"Brine!? Phew... hoooo boy... that... you scared the living hell out of me!" Steve shrugged off the demon's fists from his shoulders and stepped back. "I thought you kicked that habit, hah..."
"Are. You. Hurt." Herobrine bit out; not interested in the miner's dodge.
An unfamiliar emotion Steve hadn't seen before, in the faintest crease of his brown and the clamminess of his skin, as slight tremors twitched across his skin. This was new.
Steve batted the demon away. "Oh, I'm fine. It happens all the time."
Herobrine did not look convinced. "And what of the zombie bite?"
"Excuse me?" Steve turned around with his hands on his hips, offended. "What in the world are you talking about? I'm not infected, I swear. Plus, there's more pressing matters at hand. How in the hell did you find me?"
The demon would not budge.
"You're a terrible liar. I can see the effects of plagued hunger swirling around your head. Where is the bite?"
Dammit.
"Look, Brine, I'm fine. Let me pack and we can head home."
The demon gave him a disgruntled look, "As I recall, last time you told me not to worry about something as dire as that, I had to watch you waste away into skin and bone and sat there as you trembled and wept all night begging for the pain to stop."
Steve broke his gaze and kicked at the grass. Herobrine's voice was pointed and jabbed right at Steve's own carelessness. But Herobrine's eyes softened as he reached out to dab the shoulder where the faint scars of teeth marks remained. He pulled the cloth off the loose shirt to expose an imprint of scabs in the shape of teeth. Nothing more than a faint red dent in his skin.
It had been two months since the zombie infection fiasco. Steve had brushed it off the moment he could walk without an ache, but Herobrine latched onto that grudge.
Herobrine shook his head. "I worry about you, Steven."
"Will you stop worrying if I tell you I took a potion and a golden apple? Packed one this time. Learned my lesson, okay?" Steven fixed his shirt and stepped back, inviting the other to join him.
"... I could scent the effects in the surrounding air."
"Then nothing to worry about! I truly feel fine. Truly." Steve continued packing his camping gear. "By the way, how did you find me? You weren't supposed to read that note until next Wednesday."
Immediately, air shifted between the two as the demon shifted his weight between his two legs. His blank gaze averted from meeting the other in the eye. "A change of plans, nothing more. My ways are my own. You couldn't fathom how my senses operate."
"Hmph; and this changing of plans means coming around the house more often? You sure you're not the one feeling unwell? I had half a thought you'd slink away into that legendary castle of yours, unless that was also a trick." Steve laughed to himself. "Lord of the Nether! Scourge of Hell living in a scrap shack! Continues traveling to a human's house to experience regular commodities!"
"..."
A glare was all Steve received. Enough of a warning to shut his trap, but ignored plenty to keep the sly smirk on his face. Steve shoved Herobrine's shoulder. Trying to ignore the new look that lingered from before, growing even as the conversation went on.
"Oh, come on, I'm ready to go home, too."
It took only a good dozen minutes until the miner was all packed and ready to go. His horse's saddle was loaded with sacks and supplies over her rump and drooping down dangling near the stirrups.
Mounting, Steve urged the horse forward, knowing how eager the demon was for both of them to return home. After a terrible zombie infection, the demon hovered more over both Steve and Alex. Small, well-meaning jabs and quips were shared.
Alex never held back and made the astute observation that Herobrine was actively worried for them, all her teasing and jokes at full blast at the 'cold, unfeeling demon. But Steve actually enjoyed his presence walking back. It meant less interference from monsters and creatures alike; and that meant a faster pace.
"So..." Steve began, fiddling with the slack reins. "Did you see any sweet-berries while you came looking for me?"
"I was not aware that I was supposed to..."
Steve shrugged. He estimated the demon was not a gathering sort. Well, mining is a gathering practice, foraging was a better description of it. "It's okay. They're plentiful wherever evergreens and spruces are."
"Why can't you buy some from the town, then?" Trying to keep up the pace towards home, Steve had other plans.
Steve's head snapped to the side as he pointed to their left.
"There!"
Followed his pointed finger to see no creature or anything of interest in the brush.
"Steven. What are you pointing at? There's nothing there."
"What are you talking about? Can't you see them?"
"See what?"
"Berries!"
"And? Suddenly berries are important because...?"
"Did you even read my note?"
"No, your chicken scratch was hardly legible."
"Rude."
"Practice better penmanship and I might be inclined to do such a thing."
"Double rude."
Steve couldn't hold back his snicker as he steered his horse towards where he saw the berries. A good bubbly mood today. His cheeriness rubbed off on the demon, feeling lighter than he was previously.
Herobrine squinted as he tilted his head and followed by the man's side. Sure enough, his mind could finally stop ignoring the speckles of red that sat low on the ground. A narrow patch where a thin stream of overhead sunlight shined down upon the bushes through the thick bows of the surrounding pines.
The waist-high brushes clustered together near the roots of some spruce trees. Bunches of bright red orbs buried deep in the thorny branches, warding off creatures that dared to steal the berries. Steve was not one of those creatures.
The man slipped off his horse and knelt right by the nearest bush, one hand holding the thorny branches up while the other arm dove in and plucked them one by one. He examined the berries, pinching them between his fingers and rolling them around. Firm like cherries, but smaller and bunched like poisonous holly.
"Are you sure that's not holly?"
Steve nodded. "Holly has greener and rigid spiny leaves. Look, these are duller and darker, and the leaves are soft and rubbery like a blueberry bush. But the branches have big thorns."
Herobrine crossed his arms with a huff. "If you're wrong, I'm not nursing you back to health."
"When have I ever been wrong?"
Steve rolled his eyes at the glare boring into the back of his head. He dove his arm back into the bush and nipped more and more bushels and stuffed them into his inventory for preservation and safe-keeping. They never lasted long outside of cold temperatures.
Herobrine wandered closer, observing as the man weaved into the bush, his arm covered in thin red scratches but efficiently clearing out the red orbs hidden beneath the dark spruce-green leaves.
He plucked an easier berry and pinched it between his fingers. It shined a bright, bright red, near a blood orange with faint green at the base; and popped into his mouth. The sugar sent shivers down his spine. Too sweet. It felt like he just placed an orb of pure sugar onto his tongue. So sweet it flashed, bitter and raw on his tongue. He spat it out and coughed.
"Blegh! You find this appealing?" Herobrine's face scrunched in disgust as he spat out more of the juice. "It's hardly edible!"
"The one you picked?" Steve couldn't contain his snicker. "It wasn't ripe."
"Ripe?"
"It wasn't ready to be picked yet. You need to wait until they're darker and older."
"Why?"
"I don't know what sort of plants you're used to picking, but the younger berries are bitter and sweeter since they need extra sugar to grow and still have a lot of uh... I remember this in school... it starts with a 'C'... Chlorine? No. Col-"
"Chlorophyll?"
"Yeah, that. That's what gives the bitter taste... I think... I don't know. If they're green, they don't taste good."
Herobrine didn't comment. He sauntered back towards a tree to lean against as the miner continued picking berries. He hopped around the meadow till his arms were raw from the thorns. Herobrine sat there, eyes closed and tuned into the biome. The rush of water at the base of the valley, the howling wind that came galloping over the peaks. Rustling leaves, twittering of birds, the pattering of paws.
He opened his eyes to Steve, wiping his hands on his pants and adjusting his pack. Time to get back to the trail, finally. Herobrine teleported back over.
"Can we get moving now?"
"Yeah, okay. I'm done I swear-"
"Yip!"
The miner stopped in his tracks as he raised his hand to shush the other. His head swiveled around as he noiselessly searched the meadow.
"Wait! Hold on!" Steve whispered-yelled to the other. "Look!"
Herobrine followed the man's pointed finger to see a shape of bright copper-orange peeking through the berry bushes. Chirps and chatter landed softly on his ears as he remained frozen still in the place he sat. Steve quickly knelt, swiped berries from his inventory, and held them out in his hand, making brief clicks and kissy noises.
A triangular head poked out of the bushes. A long slender face with big brown eyes and a button nose. Two little triangles for ears and whiskers poking out of its face. Its head and body are like autumn leaves and a thick streak of snow-white on its chin, belly, and tip of its voluminous tail. A fox. Fluffy cheeks and all. The little things cautiously slunk from the bush, belly low to the ground as it sniffed the air for the prize in Steve's hand.
Its slender black paws reached out step by step as it dragged itself closer to the miner. Ears swiveled to-and-fro as it sniffed his hand.
The man appeared ready to explode with excitement. Joy bubbling into his eyes and flushed cheeks. He strained his hand further to the fox's direction as he waited with bated breath.
The fox gingerly took the berries from Steve's hand and chowed down happily before giving a little squeak and scampering back into the bushes.
Herobrine thought that was going to be the end of it until the sounds of more pattering little feet approached.
"Brine! Brine! You should feed one!"
The demon recoiled at the thought.
"Don't be ridiculous." He whispered harshly. "Animals always run the moment they notice me."
"That one didn't. Come on, just put the berries in your hand and I won't bother you about anything else for the rest of the day!" Steve already pushed the little red orbs into his palms and guided his arm to lie low and outstretched.
Steve did the same with some more berries and continued with the kissy sounds until more little ginger heads appeared from the brush. A larger body and a trio of smaller ones. Beady eyes stared in cautious interest.
The brave one approached again, sniffing at Brine's hand. Herobrine felt his heart lurch as the fox took the berries from his hand, but did not run. The kits came bounding through the brush and landed right at the Fox's tail. Steve tossed some of his berries towards the kits as the Fox continued to eat from Brine's hand.
A revelation came to him.
He couldn't explain it. Like something finally shifted right, a puzzle piece fitting, or a glass of cold water in the middle of a hot summer day. Brine tentatively reached out, hand barely ghosting over the top of the fox's head. A connection as he gently pressed his fingers into the animal's soft fur, one gentle pet before slowly retracting.
Herobrine turned to Steve, who had giant stars in his eyes. The miner was holding one kit while it smacked on some berries.
Magical.
Reaching out his hand again, he petted further, slinking down the fox's body and feeling the wooly fur beneath his fingers. Soft and coarse at the same time. The vulpine animal did not mind the attention. It did not run, nor flinch.
"It must be tamed." Steen whispered as he placed the kit down.
The moment the kit's little paws touched the ground, the fox stood with a huff. Herobrine retracted his hand as the little family trotted off back into the brush. Long fluffy tail flicked as it disappeared.
Air and earth stood still as the pattering of little feet melded into the rest of nature. Brine finally let go of the breath he held. Steve grinned and trotted back to his horse, beckoning Brine to join him.
They continued on the path with no other distractions; returning home the next morning.
They shared a few quips between them as a night of sleep awakened sore muscles and plentiful scabs from both bush and mining. But in the end, the homestead was a sight for sore eyes. A wonderful dot of off-color that melded and stood out from the gigantic oaks.
When they made it to the barn, Steve dismounted, wincing and stifling a grunt. There were definitely bruises beneath his shirt.
Herobrine disappeared back into the forest, wandering off like he does while Steve offloaded his supplies and gathered goodies from his horse and got straight to work on chores. Herobrine stuck around for a moment while Steve released his horse from its saddle and sent it to roam and graze in the paddock.
The demon couldn't help but give the slightest hint of a grin as frustrated groans came from the homestead. Steve discovered his little wooden art pieces in every crevice. He finally disappeared from the meadow. Teleporting far away, knowing he wouldn't have to worry for the rest of the day.
Meanwhile, Steve reorganized the house, cleaning up whatever mischief the demon had gotten up to in his absence. He shoved all the little wooden figures into Alex's room and scrutinized the placement of his furniture to make sure no funny business was lurking beneath the cushions. Last time, it took him weeks to get the swiftness potion out of the carpet. At least he quickly scrubbed it out with his speed.
Steve separated all the stone and ores, placing them in heaps to refine in the blast furnaces and packaging the rest in their places within the storage room. He settled all his extra rations in the kitchen and stuck all the berries in the fridge until later.
Later... oh, he was excited. It had been a while since he finally allowed himself to bake rather than cook. Sweets were of little use when there were piles upon piles of chores to be done. It took too much time with a wide margin of error, whether it be not mixed enough, a slight imbalance of ingredients, even the temperature of the oven. But this recipe in his mind would come out perfectly. He knew it.
Steve made sure that the animals were in good condition. He busied himself the best he could, but there wasn't much to do. Though, a shower would do wonders after roughing it the past week. Not to mention he needed to work out the tension and soreness deep in his muscles as well.
It was near five-o'clock when the man was completely done with everything. Ores still refining in the blast furnaces, everything organized the way he liked it. The house was clean. Though he still had a lot of energy left. He didn't want to go to bed before sundown.
His eagerness lured him into the kitchen...
...
Berries. He needed the berries. The flour was there sitting in its bag. Luckily Alex hadn't used it all. What else, what else. Baking soda, baking powder, two completely different things, milk in the fridge, sugar can't miss that, vegetable oil that Alex also hadn't drained either thankfully, and lastly two eggs.
Steve ran around the kitchen, grabbing glass bowls, measuring cups, and pans. The spoons and whisks were in a little container with the spatulas and other large things.
The miner was so preoccupied with the clanking of baking supplies and the clamor of his own feet that he didn't see the shadow lurking near the doorway of the kitchen. Watching fervently at this process. The demon caught the scent of sugar and came to investigate.
A creak in the floorboards. Steve laid out his ingredients when he looked over his shoulder. Herobrine was leaning on the doorframe, face as neutral as ever. He had this poise that yelled curiosity and restraint. Typical of him.
Yet, as Steve observed from the corner of his eyes, the demon's poise displayed a more reserved one. Arms not crossed in confidence, more of holding himself together. The demon had mentioned something about the aether, but his voice dropped immediately with a scowl. The mere thought of it had severely soured his mood. Something definitely happened.
The slightest smudge of dirt did not escape Steve's eye. The demon adamantly refused to have a hair out of line, and his long locks were currently down falling past his shoulders. He donned a loose shirt and any other decoration on his body was gone. It was a foreign look for the demon to look so... casual.
Steve beckoned the other over to his side. Having his hands moving ought to cheer him up.
"Ever baked something?" Steve crossed his arms as he checked the mental checklist for everything he needed. Finger tapping to check off each item.
Brine slunk over, "... no."
"Hmm." Steve hummed as he placed the large measuring cup and the flour in front of Brine. "Measure out two cups of flour, two teaspoons of baking soda, and a teaspoon of baking powder. Remember, there's a difference and then add these dishes as well. I already measure those up and then mix."
"Into the glass bowl?"
"Yup. I need to preheat the oven and sift the cocoa. You got everything else?"
"Yes." Though sounding unsure, he got to it. Measuring from each parcel of powder, thankfully labeled. "How… how do I mix this?" He didn't see a spoon anywhere.
"Hm? Oh, use the whisk. It's to your left." Steve set a thermometer in the oven after letting the fire start up. Getting it to an acceptable heat, and closed the door, letting it heat faster.
Before Brine could even look for the whisk, Steve tossed a lump of cloth at his chest. He glanced up to see the miner strapping an apron around his body. The one he held had to be Alex's. It was definitely human sized like it, but anything is better than nothing. Steven has told his stories of kitchen incidents. Spilling batter and other ingredients on his finely pressed shirt and trousers would sour his mood greatly.
Herobrine looked to his left and found the thing. It was behind one bag, but the moment his eyes were locked on it, he recognized it. Wow, it sure has been a while since he's even touched any baking ware; let alone bake something. Nonetheless, he started whisking the bowl till all the powders were thoroughly mixed. Steve slinked up to his side with some milk, fresh brewed coffee that was cold, and a tiny bottle of vanilla extract.
"Vanilla extract…" Herobrine sniffed the air. It was strong for such a tiny vial, "Must have cost you a fortune."
Steve shrugged. "It's not that bad. It's the cost of transport that's the killer, but you'll see that it's all worth it." He said as he poured a solution of milk, vegetable oil, coffee, and a tablespoon of vanilla, nearly downing half the bottle in one dose into the bowl.
Yet, Steve didn't continue as he watched Herobrine struggle to mix the batter on the table. The bowl sat flat on the counter, a hand on the rim, and the other furiously swirling the whisk in a circular motion, a near ninety-degrees from his arm. Steve's arms ached the longer he watched this spectacle.
The demon jostled the bowl to continue mixing when Steve stopped him again. "Next are the eggs. I trust you can crack both without getting any shells in the batter like the other time?" Steve made a jab at a previous cooking experience, nudging the two eggs towards the demon.
"Bold of you to assume I have a controlled enough hand for that." Herobrine huffed playfully beneath his breath.
Steve elbowed him in response. "Bold of you to underestimate yourself." And left to go find cake pans and the baking grease. "The mighty king of the Nether should know plenty about breaking a few eggs."
"I'm... hmph."
Herobrine set the bowl down and gently grasped an egg. He tapped lightly on the counter, as he had Steve do many times before when working with eggs, and pushed with his thumbs into the crack, splitting the egg and letting yolk and all splat into the bowl. Huh, it was easier than he expected. Steve made a humming noise of approval. So he did the same with the other egg and continued mixing.
Steve stopped him this time.
"You're mixing fine, but can I suggest uh… a different hm… method? The way you're doing it would tire someone out nearly instantly. Why not try it like this?"
Taking the bowl from Herobrine, Steve nestled the bowl into the crook of one hand, tilted it slightly, and took the whisk in the other and mixed. He could maintain a better speed and stability than Brine had.
Luckily, the demon was more keen on finishing his task than focusing on being told his technique was wrong. A lovely ending was waiting if he did it right.
Letting Herobrine mix it together. The demon's brows furrowed as the batter resisted the whisk, clumping weirdly and the egg getting into the center of the whisk rather than mixing. He lifted it up with a sneer before going back to it. He just needed that damn bit to get out of the whisk, and maybe it would actually be a batter.
Steve came around again with a spatula and two circular pans. He set the pans down, stilled the other's hand, pushed the unmixed egg batter out with the spatula, and let Brine resume mixing. Guess you could do that too. Steve probably heard the dramatic huff of frustration he gave. Now the batter was settling and actually mixing, turning into a light brown, creamy, viscous mix. The batter smelled wonderful. A shiver ran down his spine in anticipation of the actual thing.
"What next?"
Steve put his hands on his hips as he looked up at the other. "Put it in the pans and let it bake." He said with a smile, "Reach into the flour and make a thin layer, the thin one right there and make another layer. Get the sides."
Brine reached into the flour and flicked it into the pan. "What does this do? Help with insulating it?" He coated the interior in flour and moved to the bottle of thin oil.
"Non-stick recipe from trial and error. There's probably a better way, but this is what's worked for me. Helps the cake slide out of the pan, unless you want a crumbled cake for something else." He gave a small chuckle as he watched Brine do his thing as he moved to the second piece of baking ware.
Slowly, he poured two sets of cake batter into the pans, looking quite pleased with himself. He lifted both pans by himself and shoved them into the oven. With Steve's help to open the oven's door. He had seen the miner use an oven mitt constantly when working with the oven, but for him. He needed none of that, letting his hand touch the scorching heat and near buzzing with excitement now that the cakes were baking.
Then it dawned on him. Was this it? Two pieces of sweet bread. He thought Steve mentioned it was a cake. Why would there be two pieces if it was a singular cake he hadn't baked before so he knows nothing, but it's just odd?
"So what of the frosting?" He voiced aloud.
Steve hummed a laugh as he brought out powdered sugar, different from what he had in the cake batter, a stick of butter he had left to soften, a bit of milk, and the rest of the tiny vial of vanilla.
"Clean that whisk," He instructed, "And we'll add all these together to make some buttercream frosting."
Sure enough, Steve was standing to the side as brine added the powdered sugar and butter into a clean bowl, after washing some dishes, and began mixing. Steve had mentioned that once it was at a decent consistency to slowly add the milk and vanilla. The milk had to be added in by droplets, a tablespoon only to be exact, since the vanilla was going to offer a bit of moisture, a teaspoon of that in reality. These are strange measurements, but at least the measuring spoons were labeled. All he had to do was mix.
Steve made a sound as he dug through the various bowls and returned, sliding a mass of red stuff into the bowl. Chunky bits and all. It smelled sweet and familiar.
"Almost forgot the mashed sweet berries. I was going to use it for the top to cover it."
All the while as Brine was focused on the frosting, Steve was washing up some dishes. Humming a tune as the warm water ran over his hands.
Herobrine huffed as he whipped the icing. The repetitive motion allowed his mind to wander elsewhere. Creamy white froth caking into the whisk with each pass, not allowing the mixture to mix correctly.
The confrontation wriggled back into the forefront of his mind. As mundane and simple as this, would they still attack him? For baking a cake, for playing nice, for befriending a mortal or two. The idea of being removed from the world and stuck in the void, for hell knows how long, sat sour in his stomach. The chance that by the time he broke free of the code, the two humans would have long since perished.
Pompous assholes, the lot of them. Those that dared interfere with him. The absolute gall of that guard, a low nothing compared to the skill and expertise of the higher ups, the managers, the ones that dug into the code and made the world run. They don't even exist in the 'aether', more like a separate worldscape. They hadn't given him any mind. Turning a blind-eye, it was these sniveling little weasels that tried to make themselves more than they were! Picking fights they couldn't win! They-
"Boop."
The demon froze, paralized as a wet sensation sat upon the tip of his nose. A blob of white sat in the center of his vision.
He turned to the human, who looked near a split seam away from cracking into a boisterous laugh. The perpetrator's finger was covered in the lingering pieces of icing and a dollop of the frosting on his nose as well. The man had his neck craned up to stare at the other's face, Brine had the opposite.
Herobrine glanced down to see what he could, that the frosting he had made was fluffed and mixed to completion. He narrowed his eyes at the man as he wiped the frosting from his face.
"What is the meaning of this?"
Steve laughed. "You were stirring really vigorously with a far-away look. I had to. I'm surprised you didn't notice that I walked right up to you!"
Brine pursed his lips. "Is this a human thing?"
"More like a 'you're friends with me' sort of thing." Steve spoke nonchalantly as he wiped off the frosting from himself and licked his finger clean, humming in satisfaction. "The frosting is perfect, by the way. Guess it just needed an arm that doesn't tire to get the right consistency."
Herobrine didn't respond as he too tried the frosting. It... wasn't bad. Definitely too sweet on its own, but he imagined that the cake itself would hopefully neutralize it, or any other flavors, really. Steve mentioned one time using bitter dark chocolate to fix one of Alex's overly sweetened messes.
Steve took the bowl from Herobrine and set it next to some more tools he brought while the demon had spaced out. Continuing to hum more tunes as he busied about.
Herobrine cleared his throat. "Will the cake be ready soon?"
"Very." Steve assured him.
"How soon?" Herobrine inched closer.
Steve pulled away to glance at the timer he had set. "About fifteen more minutes."
The miner finished up the last plate. Now, they had ten minutes to kill before checking the progress of the cake. They could prepare the berries, but he already took care of that. He cleaned all he needed to clean. Even swiping the eggshells and… oh.
Steve gestured for Brine to help him with putting away all the extra ingredients. The flour goes in its place as other bags go into their designated stations in the cabinets. They set the oils on their rags as they're tucked away beneath the counters. They took a small bit of cleaning supplies out from beneath the sink to wipe down the counters of the kitchenette, removing all traces of powder and flour from the surface. Herobrine worked on drying some dishes as Steve wiped down the counters.
A few minutes in, Herobrine's brain nearly flatlined as the scent of sweet cake wafted throughout the house. He took a deep breath and got nearly dizzy as he focused on the oven door. He had to still his hand. Steve knew the drill of what to do, so he had to watch, in agonizing torture, as the timer clicked down the minutes to seconds till they could test the cake.
"Drriiiiing! Driiiing! Driiiing!"
The bell of that timer was like music as Steve ambled over to the oven with a toothpick. Herobrine had to calm himself or he would have teleported and nearly knocked the other off his feet. But there was a spark in his step.
Steve handed him the toothpick. "Stick it in the center. If it comes back dry, it's ready. If not, we'll give it a few more minutes."
To his delight, the cake came back dry. By the nether, he wanted a bite so badly. Steve was known for his cooking, which he could experience. But a few people he's eavesdropped on spoke wonders of his baking, and now here it was right in front of him.
He grabbed both pans with ease, the burning hot glass hardly a bother as he set them down on the stovetop to cool. Steve asked him for a bit of help on quelling the flames as he lowered the air intake until a small stream of smoke came from the oven and it cooled.
They flipped tho pans into two plates to help the slabs of cake cool faster. Steve had to calm the other multiple times to remind him that working with extremely hot cakes was not a fun experience, especially to those that don't have a natural heat resistance. It was a valid thing to comment on. So they waited. Steve went and swept the living room to pass the time as Brine wandered around aimlessly, checking on the cake every couple of s or so.
It was amusing seeing Herobrine getting all worked up and antsy about a simple cake. He'd had plenty of food before, Steve told himself. How was this any different? Though the demon hadn't had a proper meal in centuries before meeting him and Alex, not to mention any pastry of any kind was nearly unheard of to him.
It gave no purpose and no enjoyment. Until now. Years of waiting now culminating in these very moments. It was greatly humorous. Almost like a little kid. Eyes glowing in wonder and excitement. Barely showing on his face, but those eyes gave everything away despite how much he tried to hide it.
The moment Steve stepped into the kitchen, Herobrine was ready at his side.
The miner showed how to frost the cakes. Put a layer of icing on the bottom slab and place the top slab on it, sticking them together. Then just slapping wads of icing around it, and lathering all over. Then with a flat edge, he slowly went around the cake to reveal a very flat and even surface of the icing.
Brine just watched in wonder at this. He'd seen gorgeous pastries and cakes, some painted to look like gemstones or marble, but he'd never questioned how they got that flat shape, until now.
"You sure you're not a baker?"
"Nope." The miner said confidently. "Though I worked for one for a little while after breaking my leg from a fall. The baker that taught me all these tricks was really disappointed when I was called back to the mines, but I owe a lot of my know-how to him."
Brine hummed in response.
"So, you want the honor of adding the finishing touches?"
Brine looked confused. Well, actually observing the cake, it looked bland and boring. Until Steve brought out a small bowl of prepped fruits ready to place.
Steve made a tiny rim of diced sweet berries and let Brine place the whole ones on top. Sprinkling some blueberries and raspberries on top, as well. And for a final touch, Steve added a glaze of honey in a single stream over the top. Going over the edge to let it droop and drip. And now, the cake was complete. Perfect timing too as the sound of the front door jostling and Alex waltz into the kitchenette, drawn by the scent of sweets.
Copper hair peeked into the doorway as Alex squinted her eyes. Leather padding strapped across her body from a brief day of adventuring. Tapping of canine claws came scurrying behind her as the dog bounded into the kitchen. Tongue hung out and tail wagging half-hazardly.
"Am I hallucinating or is Brine actually wearing my apron?"
Steven flitted his eyes between the mortified demon and Alex, slowly realizing the truth in her sight. A shrill shriek of laughter rang through the house as she covered her mouth. Brine's face flushed red as smoke wafted from his hands.
"H-hey, cool it. That's my favorite wooden spatula you're holding." Steve swiped the spoon from Herobrine's hand as the demon quickly began wrestling with the fabric to remove it from his body.
With a glare from Steve, Alex threw her hands up in defense as she backed off. The dog on the other hand trotted forward, panting as he bumped his head against Steve's leg in greeting, tail wagging vivaciously.
Herobrine hung the apron and Alex appeared moments later, now free of her leather armor and in a much more comfortable set of day wear. With all three of them in the area, the demon stepped away to give the siblings room to work. Replaced by Alex and the dog.
Steve had taken some plates and cups out and set them on the table as he pulled some unsweetened tea from the redstone fridge.
Alex navigated the kitchen with ease, grabbing a knife to cut three slim triangles from the cake, serving the trio. Each slice was placed carefully on the small plates she had taken out. Nearly picturesque as the jam at the top of the cake dripping with cherry red down the sides of the white spongy center. Dots of sweet berries speckled inside with the solid icing casing on the outside.
Steve plucked the plate from Alex's hand and sat down at the table. He poured himself a drink from the pitcher and dug in. Alex slid the other plate to Brine, who was patiently standing in a nearby corner, as she sat next to Steve. Immediately they began chatting away. Foreign names and mindless gossip flitted between the two.
The dog slipped beneath the table. His large furry body cozying up to the legs of the furniture as he chewed on a bone stored beneath, wanting to be a part of the action.
Herobrine watched with interest as he sat down in his designated seat to observe the slice of cake. Poking and prodding with the fork before he pinched the corner off with the utensil and scooped it. The moist spongy cake crumbled as he lifted it. He raised it to his mouth, unsure.
It had been centuries, if not more, since he last bothered to enjoy a simple pastry. Food was nothing more than a chore other than the bare minimum. The two humans were surprised at the notion that he hardly had a pallet for the more refined tastes, only the bare minimum to be sustained. Which was stolen bread every couple of months at the most.
It's delicate aroma had been overpowering his system since it started to bake. Causing his brain to go haywire in desire to taste. It seemed too important a moment, now that it was finally time to indulge, to just simply take a bite. Surely he was missing something. Some final step Long forgotten in the back of his mind. Lost to piglin etiquette and battle tactics.
Though Steve and Alex had already begun devouring their portions, giggling and gossiping as they tore the cake apart. Names thrown about, delectable juicy scandals unleashed to each other's waiting ear. Alex hummed with glee, crumbs of the cakey frosting licked away from her lips after every bite. Not a care in the world. Simply eating.
Herobrine was definitely overthinking this. It was cake. Just... a normal cake. He's had it before, a long time ago, how different could this be? Why would a single dessert cause such cognitive dissonance in his mind? That is, if it could be classified as such.
He dove in without a further thought.
The moment the dessert touched his tongue, flavor exploded in his mouth. Sweet but not sickly sweet. The cake itself had very little flavor beyond the typical breadiness, supplemented by the fruity berries and icing. He couldn't comprehend how something could taste like a heavenly cloud. It melted on his tongue and didn't leave a starchy feeling afterwards like some dryer breads. Probably since this one was pleasantly moist and fresh.
Herobrine was so enamored with this simple cake he ignored the chatter of the other two.
The slice disappeared in a moment and Brine found himself cutting another, more substantial, piece of the dessert from the main cake sitting on the table in front of him. He shrugged off the snicker from Steve as he enjoyed his second serving.
An offhand comment flew over his head. Something about the joys of adulthood allowing for anything to be dinner if they wanted. Cake and iced tea. He had participated in whatever the two had stirred up for dinner a few times. But that was savory, and this was delicious. So much better than stale dry bread and tough, sinewy, hoglin jerky.
The other two finished and put away their plates as Herobrine took a sly cut of a third serving. In his defense, it was a good dessert and food was not a large pulling factor to his tastes. The others seemed to realize that and left him be. Only giving him a minimal amused smile from the act. The demon enjoyed their kinetic energy surrounding them. A nostalgic and warm movement as they sipped at tea, cleaned dishes, and chatted all along the way.
Just another body in the small world that was this house. He wasn't a spectator, no, he existed here too. Quieter, distant, but here.
Herobrine stood from his seat and slinked around to follow the energy of the evening.
Alex migrated towards the living room as the dog got up and wandered to her side with a huff.
"You want to play a little chess?" Alex asked Steve as she passed the table to scoop up Herobrine's plate now that he was really finished. She pulled her ponytail out with her other hand and shook her hair around as evening pulled closer to the horizon.
"Sure, I'll get the board."
Steve followed Alex into the living room. Alex twirled around back into the kitchen with an affirmative hum as Steve placed the game board on the coffee table and keenly placed each figure in its respective squares.
There was a slight breeze and the creaking of the floorboards. The shadow crossed the room behind him like an ever curious cat. Steve shot him a brief glance before placing the last piece on the board and sat back. Nonchalantly watching as the demon took a tentative seat on the couch.
It was rare for the demon to stay around for long, often passing through for moments before disappearing into thin air. But he knew he was welcome to stay as long as he wanted. Although, Steve had to scold him about watching them sleep a few times. Surely he had other things he could be doing. Seemed the demon had no plans this evening and was still looking to kill some time.
That or he was looking for some leftovers after he digested a little. To be fair, the demon never had eaten so much in either him or Alex's presence. That was a sight to behold.
Words sat thickly on his tongue, near spilling out. The presence of the demon milled nearby watching. He almost asked if Herobrine wanted to play a single round to pass the time, but Alex joined soon after, Dog on her heels licking his chops. Alex must've just fed him.
She settled down on the other side of the chess board. Choosing the dark oak wooden pieces that she always used. She liked playing black. To her, it allowed the opponent to make the first move to which she would analyze and measure up.
Steve had carved the set out of two pieces of old oak and birch. It took him months to whittle out the little figures themselves. Rudimentary bleaching the birch further white and staining the oak with the darkest ink he could harvest. The board was made up of the same wood, small squares in a grid glued together at the end. A much easier process than the figures.
Dog paced a little. Looking over at the couch where he usually sat. But noticed the demon sitting there and moved to curl up next to the coffee table. Dog wasn't the biggest fan of the demon, so he usually kept his space. An after product of the demon's intimidating presence. So strange that the foxes earlier had ignored it.
Light streaming from the windows mellowed from the white rays into a yellow and finally a warm orange. The sky a rainbow as clouds melded into the darkening light. A deep red set in the horizon as shades of purple mixed in between that at the dark navy of the coming night.
Alex and Steve remained locked in tense competition as pieces shifted concisely across the checkerboard.
Both had kept tally from game after game.
The tally line of beads were mostly pushed towards Steve's side of the table.
Currently, the board was dominated by white pieces with most of Alex's set being wiped off the board, sitting to the side spectating the eventual fall. Both knew that Alex would refuse to forfeit until her king piece lied, toppled over or locked in a gridded checkmate.
She pressed a clenched thumb to her lips as she stared at the board. Calculating was long forfeit at this point, but there had to be a way to at least make this a tie. Surely she could move her knight and not sacrifice her last bishop.
Unknown to either of them, their living spectator lounging on the sofa long had his eyes closed and breathing slowed. Even unconsciously, his presence was silent. Calm. Disappearing like a thought in the wind.
Their canine companion stirred as he sniffed.
Steve caught motion out of the corner of his eye during one of Alex's turns as the dog got up and stretched. He watched the canine pace behind Alex and slowly sauntered over to the couch where the demon still sat. Curious. It was then that Steve realized Herobrine must've nodded off.
The dog sniffed at Brine's hanging hand. The demon did not stir. A tail wag. The dog crouched and hopped up on the couch, sniffing and huffing as he stepped around the demon's body before wiggling between Herobrine and the couch and plopped himself right there.
A loud sigh as the dog snuggled into Brine stole the duo's focus from their game. Alex noticed Steve's attention was elsewhere by the time she ended her turn. Two pairs of eyes gandering at the spectacle.
Long, straight, brown hair splayed on the pillow the demon's head rested on. The dog's large head sitting on his chest as an arm rested on his body. The other hand drooping off the couch. He had kicked both legs onto the couch and took up the entire sofa longways. His godly height portrayed comically as he barely fit across the sofa itself.
Despite this humorous height difference, the demon looked more human than ever. Snoring slightly with his mouth open and drooling. Eyes closed to hide the unnatural light. His energy had shifted. Something rare to observe. Something Dog must've sensed as well to be laying so casually upon his chest. Large heard gently rising and falling with the demon's even breaths.
"Sugar coma?" Alex jested.
A glance back at the board. Steve quickly turned around and slammed a piece on the board. Barely unable to contain his smirk as Alex realized she had fallen for his trap.
"Checkmate!"
Steve crossed his arms smugly as Alex gawked at the board. Obviously she had been beaten. A long time coming, but the defeat still wounded her pride. A few of the pieces off to the side tipped and toppled as relief swept over the checkerboard. The battle was over.
"Well, that's enough losing for one day." Alex stood and stretched. "Think I'm gonna call it a night."
"We should bet money on this next time."
"Uh huh, and I'll start betting money on our foot races too."
Steve grimaned. "Touche."
He started packing away the pieces as Alex disappeared into the kitchen.
His eyes gravitated back towards the sleeping form on the couch.
The worry lines were gone from his face. Seeming deeper in sleep now. Huh. He had really knocked the demon out it seemed. Or perhaps it was all that fretting the other did earlier. Seemed he had calmed down enough to relax. The tension Herobrine carried settled thick whenever he drew near. Hollow eyes lost in distant thought.
Steve wasn't entirely sure what Herobrine did when he disappeared. But it was very clear that this place had become somewhat of a sanctuary to him. A place to play his pranks, and chat, and eat, and relax . The little slice of Heaven Steve and Alex had made for themselves now included him in it as well.
Wind blew through a window left open just a crack. Herobrine shifted as a smidge of discomfort contorted across his face, souring the sanctity of the scene. Visible shivers washed across his skin.
Steve quickly got up and sauntered over to their recliner; snatching a thick quilt draped over the seat.
Very cautiously, as if he were approaching a sleeping creeper, he inched his way over to Herobrine and then draped the blanket over his large form, careful not to cover Dog while doing so. It barely covered all of him, enough to stave off the chill. Steve had half a thought to adjust it further but it was adamantly clear that Herobrine wasn't going anywhere fast and he wasn't about to disturb him further.
Steve was pondering if he should set out a piece of cake for Herobrine to take with him when he eventually did leave, noting that he'd had to make sure Dog didn't get into it, but jumped from his train of thought when a voice rang behind him.
"Don't forget his goodnight kiss." Alex teased.
"Only if you don't forget mine." Steve snipped back with a grin.
She rolled her eyes as she rushed up the stairs before Steve could retaliate further. Giggling all the way up. The man shook his head and reached over to turn off the lantern next to the sofa.
"Goodnight, white-eyes."
Steve tip-toed up the stairs, letting the night pass quickly and quietly.
The demon remained in his deep slumber. An ease prevalent in his mind that allowed him to dream without interruption. Stomach full. Mouth sweet. Mentally and physically warm. A furry presence snuggled up against him. Head void of concerns. Finally getting a needed respite from the buzzing inside of his head.
He would even sleep through the commotion upstairs as Alex discovered the fruits of his whittling boredom; and the desperate pleas from Steve to let the demon rest for now. Saying they could get him back later. They all needed rest.
The demon would wake after sunrise to a quiet house and a note on the coffee table.
Cake is even better for breakfast! Feel free to grab a slice or two.
P.S. Alex is out for pranking blood. Step lightly, devil.
P.S.S. Also I'm in the mines today if you're looking to spend the day hanging around.
Herobrine smiled to himself. Trying to read the scratched out portion of a P.S.S...S.
Hope you're feeling better. Looked kinda sad yesterday and...
Truth be told. He was feeling better. Although consciousness brought with it the worries of yesterday it also brought back the memories.
Nothing another piece of cake couldn't solve. It really was better for breakfast.
...
(A. N. FYI THIS WAS POSTED TO AO3 MONTHS AGO. It's where I post first. I recently noticed an uptick in interaction so im putting some of my older fics here too. If you want to see what I do between chapters, go check out my Tumblr: bi-ocelot. Special thanks to my friends for beta-reading! You should definitely check out Splintergirl13 and Slingading! This fic is possibly one of my older fics, not as old as Storms but close! I have some ideas I can't wait to put to paper including some more lore based and world exploring types with different characters as well! A good refresher in my opinion.)