It was a beautiful day outside. Birds were singing, flowers were blooming, and Tango was giving Etho a tour of the nether hub he’d built, which, all things considered, was fairly close to burning in hell. He led Etho up flight after flight of stairs, pointing out the little work areas he’d spent so long building, with only the smallest hint of pride creeping into his voice.
“You know,” Etho joked, “All things considered, it’s fairly adequate.”
“Yeah,” Tango chuckled, “Just a little side—” he was abruptly cut off by Etho sneezing violently. “Curse you.”
“Thanks.” Etho shook his head slightly, pulling his mask back up from where it had slipped off his nose.
“Allergies?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, at least I know I got the story of this place right!” Tango chuckled, Etho joining in. “Now, where do you wanna be exiled to?” Tango threw an arm around Etho’s shoulders, grinning.
“Ahhh! Noo!” Etho pushed Tango’s arm away. “Your arm’s freezing!”
Tango just laughed and grabbed Etho by the wrist, dragging him off down one of the tunnels.
———
Tango’s hair was not on fire. Now, most people, upon the sudden realisation that their hair was not on fire, would probably be thinking something along the lines of aww, sweet! My hair’s not on fire! or oh, phew! The fire in my hair has been put out! Tango, however, was not most people. His thoughts were more along the lines of wait, I have hair under all that fire? Wait! Why isn’t my hair on fire!? Is this bad for my health? Am I dying? and other panicked sentiments to that effect.
Tango dashed to his communicator, desperately scrolling through his contacts to call for help. The thing is, when people panic, they tend to make horrible choices. And, unlike when it came to his opinion of his hair being on fire, Tango actually was like the majority on this point. So, naturally, he texted Zedaph.
Tango: Zed. Help. My hair’s not on fire.
ZedaphPlays: oh no.
ZedaphPlays: that’s bad.
ZedaphPlays: that is bad, right?
Tango: I don’t know!
A couple minutes passed, and then Zed replied again.
ZedaphPlays: so it might be bad.
ZedaphPlays: on my way
Tango sighed, and leaned back against the wall, running his hand through his hair self-consciously. It was surprisingly fluffy, considering that it had been on fire for pretty much all of his life. Looking at his reflection in his comm screen, he smiled slightly. If his hair going out wasn’t a sign of some dreadful danger to his life, then he wouldn’t mind it going out a little more often. Blond suited him, after all.
He was interrupted in his musings by Zed popping up through the bubble column and throwing a fire charge at him.
He yelped, though it was more from being startled than any kind of pain, as the charge took root and his hair ignited again. Well, he supposed. That was one way of fixing things. He grinned, about to thank Zed, when the fire in his hair sputtered and died, leaving nothing but a wisp of smoke.
“Huh,” Zed mused, from where he was, half in the bubble column. “I thought that would work.”
“It was a good idea,” Tango shrugged, rubbing his scalp. Despite it having been literally on fire a few moments prior, the skin almost felt icy to the touch.
“Yeah, and the fact that it worked, and then went out again,” Zed grunted with effort as he pulled himself up properly into Tango’s base, “Is a really, really bad sign.”
“You know what’s going on?” Tango asked, hopeful.
“Well, kinda,” Zed admitted. “I did a little research before setting off. It’s either story magic, your internal fire’s gone out and you’re dying, or you are actually dead already.
“And those last two… not so good.” Tango nodded. “Got it. I might be dying.”
“It might not be that!” Zed cautioned, voice carrying a little slightly-strained optimism. “It might just be story magic!”
“Yeah!” Tango nodded. “Gotta–Gotta keep hopeful!”
“Exactly!”
“Uh, out of curiosity,” Tango asked, concerned, “What—what other symptoms would there be if I was dying?”
“Listlessness,” Zed started counting off on his fingers, “Dulled emotional response, extreme exhaustion, decreased heart rate, dimmer eyes, general aches, and a dull sense of doom or foreboding.”
“Fun!” Tango laughed, although it was more from panic than any actual mirth.
“Have you, uh, experienced any—”
“No.” Tango shook his head. “No.”
“That’s good.”
“Yeah.”
“It’s probably just story magic.”
“Yeah, it’s—it’s probably fine, yeah?”
“Yeah,” Zed nodded.
“Good talk?” Tango offered.
“Good talk.” Zed smiled. “Call me if anything changes!”
With that, he jumped down the other half of the elevator into Tango’s base, leaving the man alone with his thoughts. That sure was one of the conversations ever.
———
A few days passed without Tango’s condition worsening, and he let himself relax. It was probably just story magic from building a lore-rich base in the middle of a handmade tundra. He was probably fine. That said, if the story magic was affecting him this much physically, he figured he ought to lean into it with his fashion choices, you know, make it official that he was The Warden of Frost or whatever.
That was how he found himself shopping for ice-blue jumpers. He didn’t want to go too far too fast yet, after all, and a part of him was screaming that this all was wrong, that normally he wouldn’t even consider doing this. He brushed those thoughts away, no matter how much they sounded like the real Tango.
He bought a couple that he thought suited him, grabbing a new vest while he was at it—one from his old set had gotten damaged while he was working on the Deep Frost Citadel—and headed back to the Hermitcraft server. He felt kinda fuzzy and weird the whole time, like he’d just woken up, and the longer he spent in the hub, the stronger the sense of wrongness got, so he was relieved to get home as soon as he did, and let whatever was up wash away.
He hurried back to his starter base, and quickly switched his red jumper for his new blue one, looking in the mirror to see whether or not it looked alright. He’d spent good diamonds on these, after all, and though he could trust the quality (they were from the same line as his old red ones, after all) he’d hate it if he looked bad in them.
The good news was, the blue jumper suited him! It actually almost looked better on him than the red ones had. Who knew that this whole time, blue had actually been his colour?
He grinned. It looked like he was going to be making a few other changes around here, no matter how much that quiet part of his mind protested.