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“He's dragging you down.”
Wemmbu frowns, pretending he doesn't get it. Even though he already has a good idea of who Mane’s talking about. “Bro—what?”
Mane just keeps wiping down his sword, slow and deliberate, like Wemmbu’s supposed to just sit there and take whatever convoluted advice is about to come out of his mouth.
His fingers itch to grab his own blade—to swing, to shut him up—but he forces himself still. He doesn’t like it, but Mane would beat his ass.
And… maybe Mane’s got a point or something. Maybe he's not gonna say what Wemmbu thinks he's about to say. Plus he's still Wemmbu’s teacher for now, so…respect and all that.
“Your precious ‘Eggy,’” Mane says finally.
Nevermind. He's just gonna spill bullshit.
Wemmbu narrows his eyes. “...What about him?”
“Bro’s a full-on chungus,” Mane says, dead serious. “He’s holding you back.”
Which—okay, Wemmbu can’t totally argue with. But still.
“Chill,” he says instead of starting an argument he knows Mane will win, if only because the dude’s stubborn as hell. “Egg helps, alright? Just—he’s not, like, that type of help.”
Mane gives him a look. That annoying, skeptical “sure, bro” face that makes Wemmbu feel like some dumb kid trying to argue with his dad.
He bristles, tail flicking. “Bro, c’mon. He’s just not, like, built for PVP, that's all. He's—”
“A weakness,” Mane cuts in.
Wemmbu freezes. Then the disbelief hits first—because what kind of take is that?—followed by anger simmering up his throat. “Man, what?”
“He's your weakness,” Mane presses, “You gotta drop him, bro. I’m serious. You can’t get good if you’re babysitting someone all the time. That’s, like, rule number one.”
“Bro—what are you even talking about?” Wemmbu laughs, like it’s the dumbest thing he’s ever heard. Because it is. “Egg doesn’t even fight, dude, that’s literally my job.”
That’s the whole point of this stupid training arc—to make himself strong enough to protect both of them. Because Egg doesn’t care about PVP or strategy or any of that, and Wemmbu gets that. That’s just how Egg is.
But on a server like this? That’s dangerous. Which is why Wemmbu’s doing this. Getting stronger. Every day.
Mane’s still cryptic, still shady as hell, but he’s good. Too good. And Wemmbu can’t beat him yet—that’s the only reason he’s still here. If he could, he would’ve left ages ago.
He’s noticed too how Mane’s always been… weird about Egg. Ever since Wemmbu brought him here uninvited—which, fair, Mane’s not exactly a “houseguest” type, considering he lives alone in the middle of nowhere in a massive treehouse—but Wemmbu thought he’d warmed up a little. He even gave Egg a throwaway base nearby.
“I get that you two are like, friends or whatever,” Mane says, tone flat, “but he’s gonna get you killed. Just—trust me on this. Sooner or later, you’re gonna regret having such an obvious weakness.”
“Yeah, alright,” Wemmbu says, letting out this half-laugh, half-sigh. “Cool talk, man. I’m not dropping my friend just ’cause you say so.”
Wemmbu tries not to show how much Mane assuming he'll just listen to him and drop his closest friend rankles. He probably doesn't succeed, judging by Mane’s unimpressed frown.
He waves a hand, trying to play it off. “Egg’s fine. He’s chill. You don’t gotta keep bringing him up every time I see you, dude.”
Mane stares at him for a second—one long, unreadable look—then turns back to his sword. He doesn’t look convinced. Okay, well Wemmbu doesn’t care. He doesn’t need Mane’s permission to do what he wants.
“...If you say so, bro,” Mane mutters. “Just—don’t come running back here next time Egg gets fuckin’—I don’t know, kidnapped or something.”
Wemmbu rolls his eyes, jaw tightening even as he forces a laugh. “Oh my god—you’re so dramatic. I’m not—bro, I’m not gonna cry over it.”
“Uh huh.”
“...You're so annoying, dude.”
Manepear doesn't reply, just giving his sword another swipe of the cloth in his hand. Wemmbu huffs in disbelief, then gets up from his seat.
Whatever. Screw Manepear and his useless, unasked-for, not-needed warnings. Wemmbu’s gonna go find Egg. And have a conversation he'll actually enjoy.
“You think you know where he is?”
Wemmbu shakes his elytra out, scattering the dew that collected from flying through trees. From trying to find Mane.
Egg’s voice sounds casual, curious in that way it always does when he’s only asking because Wemmbu seems to care.
“I dunno man.” Wemmbu gives his elytra another shake. “He's probably not coming back.”
Egg just goes “Oh,” like it's nothing, and turns back to rummaging through shulker chests. Wemmbu huffs a small laugh. Figures.
Egg’s always been like that—unflappable, uninterested in most things, most people. Wemmbu likes that he's honest about it. He doesn’t fake sympathy or force comfort. Mane was like that too.
Unlike Mane, though, Egg doesn’t dance around topics or give cryptic-ass answers. Or betray him.
He exhales, rubbing the back of his neck. What a joke of a day.
First Mane turns on them, then he has to hand over his mace to FlameFrags—who’s not even gonna use it—and then…
lost cause
“Hey,” Egg says.
Wemmbu looks up without thinking. Egg’s face is blank as ever, but Wemmbu can make out a hint of concern in his eye.
His gaze flicks downwards, towards Wemmbu’s hands. Only then does Wemmbu notice how tight he’s gripping his elytra, the fragile membrane creased and bent.
He lets go fast, shaking it out. “My bad,” he mutters, trying for a grin that doesn’t quite stick. “Guess I zoned out.”
Egg gives him a look, but doesn't push. Just goes back to looting Mane’s stuff. They spend a few moments in silence like that—Egg picking out what he needs and Wemmbu just absentmindedly pacing while smoothing out the creases on his elytra.
“You think we say ‘bro’ too much?” Egg asks suddenly.
Wemmbu hums. He knows Egg’s changing the subject, but he lets him. That’s just how Egg says “you good?” without saying it.
“Yeah I think so,” Wemmbu says. “Probably.”
The sign flashes through his mind again, along with Manepear’s thunderous scowl when Wemmbu bailed instead of following whatever weird-ass plan he’d half-muttered and never explained.
lost cause
He swallows down the tight feeling in his throat and glances toward Egg, who’s still humming quietly as he sorts through gear.
Whatever. Wemmbu doesn’t care what Mane thinks. If he wants to call him a lost cause, fine.
He’s got Egg.
Always has. Always will.