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Life at the tree had always had a sense of domesticity.
That hadn’t been intended when Wemmbu asked for training, but he welcomed it anyway. The regular meals between pvp practice were nice. Hand-washing clothes together and sharpening their swords was routine. His days were perfectly structured as he slotted into the calm life Mane had built for himself.
The forest was quiet, aside from a few brave birds. Even most of the animals had left when Mane took over, scared away. It was tranquil. It was the only place on the server that Wemmbu felt truly safe in because it seemed so untouchable. A place so isolated that it almost felt like another server entirely, one without all of the pain and blood. He was protected by the reassurance that even if something were to happen, if someone did dare to come near, that Mane would be there to help him.
Then the tree burnt, his safety reduced to ash.
He didn’t realise how accustomed he’d become to the sanctity until his routine fell apart.
Regular, home cooked meals stopped. Eating became mechanical, just another task that needed to be completed. He stopped cleaning his clothes every other day, because why bother when they could last a week? His sword stayed sharp from lack of use, not hours of working on it after training.
Life became a blur of mundane tasks that had been so comforting when he’d done them with Mane.
His sanctity was burnt, basically by Wemmbu’s own hands, and he hadn’t realised what he lost until it was too late.
In the beginning he tried to repair the tree. He deforested half of the jungle to get enough logs, splinters becoming a constant pain as he tried to place them exactly as they had been before, never able to get it perfect. It frustrated him to no end. Had him angry at his lack of building ability, the same anger he felt every time he lost a fight but worse because this time it was entirely his own fault.
He still had Egg, but Egg had never been a comforting figure to him. Egg couldn’t protect him or force him into a routine like Mane could. Egg was there for company, because Wemmbu cared about him and didn’t want him dead. There was nothing he could learn from Egg.
Egg wasn’t Mane, and he had to remind himself of that every time Egg put a gentle hand on his shoulder, trying to pull him away from his work on the tree. He couldn’t turn and grin and start a spontaneous training session like he could with Mane, couldn’t let himself be vulnerable like he was with Mane because in this dynamic he was the protector. He had to stay strong.
It was exhausting. He hadn’t realised how tiring it was to constantly appear strong until he hadn’t had to do it anymore. He didn’t realise how nice the safety was.
He wondered if this was how Egg felt with him. Then wondered how he’d feel if he saw Mane acting as he was, desperately mourning a tree, and pulled himself away. He had to pull himself together for the sake of Egg, because he knew how terrified he’d be if his protector fell apart.
With a deep breath and a shaky grip on his mace he turned, speed walking away from the tree, gripping Gambit tighter with resolve when he heard Egg fall in line behind him.
“We have to keep moving. People will hear about Mane’s disappearance and come for the loot.” He willed his voice not to shake, widening his eyes in an attempt to stop the tears threatening to fall as he walked away from the safety he’d never find again.