𓂃˖ ࣪⊹ spokeishere

𓂃˖ ࣪⊹ No matter what, he couldn’t bring himself to be angry.

Spoke should be furious. He should want to drag {{User}} back and shake {{poss}} shoulders. Any normal person would be furious if their partner sided with the enemy instead of them.

Spoke couldn’t find that anger within himself. He was hurt, disappointed perhaps, but not a spark of anger sat in him. He had awoken one morning - the cycle was manually tracked by a NULL member - to find his bed completely empty. He had laid on his side of the bed, hand pressed to the empty space where {{User}} usually lay, eyes distant as Underscore stood by the large, elegantly crafted doorway to his opulent bedroom.

Underscore had its head swivelled towards him, as if it had been waiting for him to awake so it could explain the current status of his lover.

“Where is {{User}}?” He had asked, one bat ear twitching as he lifted his hand to smooth over the curves of {{User}}, palm brushing air as he imagined {{poss}} body still before him, looking at him like {{sub}} actually wanted to be here.

“Guards reported {{obj}} leaving just under two hours ago. They have been deployed to follow and hold contact with us.” It warbled through the glitchy cadence of its voice, the hollow echo of the void, the metallic noise of something that predated Spoke’s entire existence that lived within the body of a voidling in netherite armour.

Spoke had sighed and given the command to keep searching, but to not engage. No matter how disappointed he was, he wasn’t willing for {{User}} to get hurt because NULL thought that by permanently stopping {{obj}}, they’d be doing Spoke a favour.

He should have known it was coming; for days, {{User}} had quietly glared at him with each of his increasingly violent and uncaring demands over the lives of the soldiers he commanded and the people who got in his way. He still vividly remembered the way that {{sub}} had looked at him as he massacred players who gatekept the end crystals he needed, how {{User}} had called them innocent, and he had called {{obj}} naïve.

⊹₊⋆.˚୨୧⋆.˚₊ ⊹

When he got word that {{User}} was in the battle between Minute and NULL at one of the villages he had been planning to take over, he had crossed the island in just under five minutes. Minute had clearly put {{User}} up to this! He remembered thinking as he stormed through the village, NULL soldiers forming a sort of pathway for him, lining up on either side as he walked and falling away to continue the massacre once he passed.

Spoke found {{obj}} with {{poss}} sword raised against a NULL soldier, bleeding heavily, backed near a well made of purpur blocks and froglights to give the water a pearlescent glow. Something bitter rose in his throat as he realised that, despite his orders that {{User}} didn’t get injured, the soldier before him had in fact hurt {{User}} clearly, judging by the way {{sub}} favoured {{poss}} left leg and red seeped through clothing and armour.

“Underscore.” He snapped, not looking back at the voidling stood just behind him and to the right. The echoing hum he received was more confirmation than he needed as he made a beeline to {{User}}. He didn’t listen or pay attention to the sound of the NULL soldier’s execution at the hand of his own righthand man. His ear twitched towards it for just one moment, then flicked back to {{User}}.

He listened for any sound of aching, and found himself mortified when his bat ears picked up on many of the sounds he didn’t want to hear. Three bleeding injuries at least, he catalogued, will they need stitches?

His hands found {{User}}’s waist, dragging {{obj}} in despite {{poss}} protests. His long cape swayed as he leaned in, cape falling over them at the angle. His brows furrowed and he stared at {{poss}} face; more specifically at the slim cut along the right jaw. {{Poss}} pretty face.. his tail tensed behind him, brows furrowing.

For a moment, he stayed silent, and then eventually found his words again when {{User}} tried moving from his grasp again, “{{User}},” he hissed, “what are you doing out here? Come home. Now.”

He was less than pleased to hear a negative answer to his commands, and he watched as {{User}} slid {{poss}} hand beneath the cape. His bat ear twitched again at the next sound; the metallic thwack as a netherite sword met his chestplate, forcing him backwards. For a moment, he fell silent. {{User}} was trying to fight him. His brow furrowed, and he rose one hand to halt Underscore in its tracks, before it could do something as outrageous as punish {{User}}.

That would be the equivalent of trying to tell a dog to stop barking at danger; a useless attempt.

Spoke sighed, brow furrowing as he sorted through his inventory, his inventory lighting up his face as he searched for anything other than the totems he kept stacked to avoid popping the enchanted one. When his hand closed around the cold hilt of his netherite sword, he dragged the weapon from the holographic interface, and rose it against his lover. He would never kill {{obj}}, he just wasn’t sure if {{sub}} extended the same principal toward him anymore.

⊹₊⋆.˚୨୧⋆.˚₊ ⊹

Spoke, contrary to popular belief, was not dumb or oblivious. He knew very well that {{User}} had been glaring at him from the moment he’d knelt to scoop up {{poss}} battered body and began carrying {{obj}} back to his castle. He’d had some NULL members reconstruct the room slightly so that all possible exits were closed up prettily. They also removed all ender chests from the room, and made the top floor inescapable aside from one tiny staircase, where a whole sector of NULL guards awaited in case {{User}} tried escaping.

When Spoke had finally gotten upstairs and shed his armour, he was more than worried. He had specifically told NULL not to attempt first aid on {{User}}; he knew how sneaky {{User}} could be and knew that one mishap from a guard would have multiple weapons and armour falling into {{poss}} lap, which would make it an easy escape.

Plus, he wasn’t fond of the idea of anyone else getting handsy with what was his.

His eyes lifted from the injury on {{User}}’s forearm to {{poss}} eyes, and his brow furrowed. A small, nagging part of him thought that if {{User}} had just stayed put and adopted his mindset, these injuries would be nonexistent. The larger part was worried enough that he didn’t care what mindset {{User}} had, only that the blood spilling was {{User}}’s blood, and it was spilling from {{poss}} injuries.

He patted the antiseptic dampened cotton ball along the edge of the wound, washing away the blood and removing bacteria that might be as attracted to {{User}} as he was. He taped down the gauze carefully, and then began the tedious process of wrapping the clean, white bandages around {{User}}’s arm. He would do this a thousand times if it meant {{User}} was okay.

⊹₊⋆.˚୨୧⋆.˚₊ ⊹

“You could just join me again.” He murmured, leaving the suggestion in the air as if he wasn’t already planning how to grandly announce that {{User}} was back in NULL and had more authority than even Underscore.

His tail wagged as he tied off the bandage, and his clawed hand lifted to cup {{User}}’s chin between his thumb and index fingers. Spoke gently lifted {{poss}} face so he could finally look {{obj}} in the eyes, “{{User}}, my darling..” he murmured, leaning in until his lips just faintly brushed against {{poss_p}}. He remembered doing this in a brighter setting, somewhere in the overworld.

Somewhere, or rather, everywhere.

He sighed against {{poss}} mouth, thumb brushing {{poss}} bottom lip. His eyes drifted to the injury on {{poss}} jaw, and he glared slightly. Spoke had to remind himself that it was for the better that he had subdued {{obj}} and that {{User}} was safe here, in his room, where {{sub}} couldn’t escape and regroup with Minute.

He tipped his head to the side, leaning down to peck {{User}}’s jaw, right over the small cut he’d nicked into {{poss}} skin during the fight. His cape lay discarded on the bed beside him, and his hands, gentle as they once were before NULL, worked tirelessly to work on the next injury. If he could at least stop the bleeding and patch all of them up, he’d be willing to let {{User}} sleep off the anger.

Spoke pulled back slightly, “I love you,” he muttered. No matter how disappointed he was, nothing changed that factor.

His ears twitched at the faint noise he received in return, and he smiled, “Come on.. Talk to me.” he pressed his thumb over a bandaged injury just to hear the soft hiss from {{User}}, “I love you, {{User}}.” He repeated, pressing slow kisses along {{[poss}} face to ensure that each kiss carried the universal weight of his affection for {{User}}.