Warning: More body horror, of the fungal variety :D
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The fungi that fall under Cordyceps are all funny ones. Often referred to colloquially as 'the zombie fungus', its best known member is Ophiocordyceps unilateralis, which is a variant of the fungus that infects ants, driving them to climb up to a great height before bursting through the ant's skull with its fruiting body, spreading its spores to infect dozens more ants in the world below. However, there are variants of Cordyceps that exist for almost every species of insect, as well as the one notorious variant, found on Mooshroom islands, that is capable of infecting cows.
Grian has always been a fan of heights. It comes with the wings, he supposes – what kind of bird is afraid of the sky, after all? Recently, though, he'd been feeling somewhat... odd, so to speak. His enjoyment of flying had peaked, to the point that his friends had started to notice something off about him. That, combined with the sudden dizzy spells whenever Grian got to close to the ground? Yeah, something was off, alright.
The last time Grian had felt like this, now that he was casting his mind back, desperately fighting off the echoes of brain fog that seemed to have crept up on him in the preceding weeks, was back during the days of the Mycelium Resistance. Back then, Grian had mostly been joking about being possessed by the fungus, but – well. Breathe in enough spores instead of clean air and you start to go a bit loopy, right? And part of his loopiness had been just like this, an inexorable pull upwards, to climb, to fly, to get so high that he could easily spread the spores–
Grian shook his head. Where the hell had that though come from? He needed... he needed to take walk, to go clear his head. Something itched under his skin. He absent-mindedly scratched at it, wandering aimlessly across the server (by foot, of course. He couldn't risk the thrill of flying, not when something was trying to make him go up).
At some point, he was vaguely aware of wandering into Scar's base. He was made aware of this information by way of nearly crashing into Scar.
"Grian! Hello!" Scar greeted, "What brings you here?"
"Oh, um..."
"You know, you look awfully pale. Almost as bad as you did back in Season 7, when–"
"I know." Grian cut Scar off. He'd seen himself in the mirror that morning. His skin was paper-white, blank other than the dark bags under his eyes. He didn't look healthy, in any sense of the word. Part of him told him that this was right, that looking like this was good. The thought made Grian feel sick.
"...Is everything alright?" Scar asked.
No. No, of course he wasn't alright. Every fibre of his being was screaming to clamber up the nearest building and hold on as tight as he could. That wasn't a very alright thing to be thinking. Or was it? Grian's head was kind of fuzzy, like his brain had been coated over with a thin layer of mold.
"Just fine!" he announced, grinning slightly too wide. Scar gave him a funny look.
"Are you sure you don't need–"
"Just. Fine." Grian wandered on, ignoring Scar's calls after him. They were irrelevant. The buildings here were far too short anyway.
Grian stumbled on, wandering the server in an ever-increasing haze. He wasn't really aware of what he was doing anymore, not really. He felt kinda nauseous, but otherwise, he felt nothing at all. There was a strange kind of blur behind his his vision, causing information to hit him far later than he received it – he couldn't have paid attention to his surroundings even if he wanted to spare a thought to do so.
"GRIAN!" Oh. Someone was yelling his name. He turned around, dazed. Pearl was perched behind him. That was nice of her.
"Hi Pearl!" Grian waved, smiling.
"You... why are you climbing my starter base?" Pearl asked. Grian looked down, and sure enough, he was halfway up the glass beams of light that descended from the UFO at the top of her starting house. That made sense, actually: the UFO was pretty high up, and Grian needed altitude for... whatever it was he was doing. What was he doing? It was important, whatever it was. Probably.
"I need altitude," he shrugged.
"For wha- no. Grian. You can fly. Why are you climbing?"
"Felt like it. Feels right, you know?"
"I don't know." Pearl shook her head. "Gri... are you okay? Have you... are you being mind-controlled by aliens right now? Has your chest monster gotten so unclean that it's grown its own sentience and it's possessing you?" (The real question, 'Please, what can I do to save you from yourself?' was never asked.)
"I'm fine, Pearl!" Grian assured her. "I just want to go up!"
And with that, he decided that this conversation had delayed him for too long. Grian was performing his purpose in life, Void-be-damned! He turned away, and continued climbing, a hazy smile on his face. Pearl followed after him, confused. She would understand soon enough. (A part of Grian's mind screamed, wondering where the hell any of these thoughts were coming from.)
Eventually, Grian reached the top of the UFO. Looking around, he smiled. Yes, this altitude was good altitude. Better still, there was a new host standing next to him! He collapsed to the ground. His legs were unnecessary now. He was where he needed to be. This was his purpose in life. He planted his hands on the ground, and he felt so, so gleeful. He couldn't help but laugh.
The itch under his skin blossomed into all-out pain, but Grian didn't care anymore. Grian laughed, and laughed, and Pearl screamed, as fuzzy purple mushrooms burst from his skin, crowning his head in a halo of mycelium. This was his purpose. He'd known it, deep down, ever since the spores had first found him, since the spores had first started adapting to his avian biology. He was nothing but a vessel for the spores, a machine to make them ever-so easy to spread.
And spread they did. They burst in waves from the fruiting bodies all over his skin, creating the most beautiful clouds of fungal stardust. Pearl staggered away, covering her mouth and nose to avoid breathing them in, but Grian knew that she was too late. She was a vessel, too. Everyone on this server would be a vessel, if Grian had his way.
His body went limp against the top of the UFO, his arms no longer able to support him. Grian heaved out his last few breaths – but they were unnecessary, and he knew it. Why was his body still fighting, when it would be so much better to just give in? Why was he still breathing, when he was nothing left but food for the mycelium?
His vision went dark, and he knew that his eyes had been grown over. The end for hims wasn't long, now. He was so happy. He'd fulfilled his purpose. He'd... fulfilled his purpose? Right? Yeah, he'd – he'd fulfilled his purpose, so that was why he was dying. If he'd been meant for something else, then surely the spores would have let him live? He should – he should have been proud, gleeful, happy, to be dying, to be becoming food for the mushrooms.
Why, then, in his final moment, was he so terrified?
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I am. so insane about mushrooms its not even funny at this point.
Completely coincidentally, my mom gave me a mushroom plushie a couple hours ago. I am. Normal. About this development.
I've been Entropy, peace out from the present!
