Thousands of years ago a war broke out on a distant island, splitting its occupants into factions. Alifero, Cornucopia, Querencia and Aranea. The tension between them that has been unyielding for centuries only grows when their precious water starts...
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Finalising plans is always the most nerve-wracking part. You've spent ages preparing everything, going over every detail at least three times, collecting recourses and losing sleep over one event. It gets worse when that event will literally decides the fate of thousands of people.
It doesn't help that our plan would be put into action within the next thirty-six hours.
From what we remember of the cavern, the maps we made and the maps Jack provided we scrounged together a final plan. Every possible scenario runs through my exhausted brain as I stare at papers I've memorised back to front. Tommy, Ranboo and Tubbo sit at the table with me looking just as dishevelled.
Ranboo looked the most dishevelled of all, perhaps because we were used to seeing him so put together. His crown, thick violet cloak and other golden accessories had been long discarded. The fine white shirt and black slacks he wore were crinkled, and his black and white hair unusually lacked its shine. Only his rings and polished shoes seemed to remain the same. Even his ender particles were dimmer than usual. Tubbo looked a little wilder than usual, his striped sweater untucked from his overalls and silver wings lacking their usual shimmer.
Tommy remained his scruffy self, though I knew he put a lot less care into what he wore these days. I often woke up to see him dressed in the most random combination of tops and bottoms. More than once I grabbed clothes for him and sent him into the bathroom to change. Both of us had yet to preen our feathers and their fluffiness was growing by the day. It was especially apparent when I started to find brown, white and red feathers littered around the house.
I'm not sure if my stress has been as apparent as the others visually. Tommy seemed to notice little things I missed, like the odd crease of my brow or when I don't laugh at a joke. He was quick to ask what was wrong or surprise me with a hug or kiss that made me red in the face.
Tommy's house had turned into a makeshift office. It required some cleaning, which Tommy made sure to complain about, but we got there eventually. We squeezed a small wooden table between the kitchen bench and living room sofa and abused it thoroughly. Our mess of papers and maps and books and newspapers also spread onto said sofa making the armchair the only useable chair in the living room.
The crackling fire and yellow ceiling lights illuminated everything we needed to see. A clutter of ink and paper was all that greeted me. The worst part of it all was that our plan was far more complex than it sounded in our heads.
