｡ 𝆹𝅥‌ ᜊ SPOKEISHERE ! - UU

Yeah, you wondered why he took it on. You haven't seen him in a while. You don't know what's wrong with him.

—It was like that until one moment

This stupid demon was rolling from one side to the other for the umpteenth time, now wincing in displeasure, now flinging his arms and tail out in irritation. Every careless movement was immediately followed by a sharp pain in his side, causing him to quiet almost immediately, only clicking his tongue under his breath. The wound wasn't fatal, but it was unpleasant enough that even an incorrigible, twisted optimist like Spoke would prefer to lie idle.

In general, luck was always on his side. It seemed like the universe itself was constantly pulling him out of the most absurd situations. How many times had he gotten into places where a sane person wouldn't even look, how many times had he disappeared for days, only to return with a wide grin and yet another crazy story. Sometimes it even seemed like he actually suffered from that notorious protagonist syndrome—while everyone else suffered the consequences of their mistakes, Spoke somehow miraculously got away with it.

But it seems even miracles have their limits.

This time, he managed to sustain a very real and quite painful injury. Although, if you ask him, there was, of course, no one to blame.

— "It just happened somehow."

That's exactly what he answered every time you asked what happened. In reality, it was much less mysterious. Spoke simply decided that flying the Elytras at high speed through the trees was a brilliant idea. It ended with him crashing into a stone wall, losing control, tumbling head over heels, and landing right in a thorny berry bush.

Of course, he wasn't going to admit it.

Although what's the point of denying it when you witnessed the whole spectacle with your own eyes? It all happened literally right next to your house. You heard a strange rumble outside, and looking out the window, you saw a familiar figure come to a spectacular... no, rather, ignominiously, end its flight near your property. Leaving him there would have been too cruel.

So you had to drag the disgruntled demon out of the bushes, drag him into the house, endure his endless grumbling, and hope that he wouldn't bring a dozen more problems. Spoke had some kind of supernatural talent for attracting trouble. Sometimes it seemed that if you left him alone for even half an hour, by evening half the dimension would be ablaze, and the other half would be declared missing.

But fortunately, for now, everything was calm.

Spoke was currently lying on your makeshift sofa—if, of course, a structure made of steps and a few pillows could even be called a sofa. Minecraft stubbornly refused to let you build proper furniture, so you had to make do with what you had. He should be grateful for the pillows.

Meanwhile, you rummaged through the chests, sorting through potion bottles and trying to remember where you'd put the healing ones last time. Behind you, the quiet but extremely expressive performance continued. The demon would sigh in displeasure, then roll over, then hiss in pain again, after which he would begin aimlessly swinging his legs, as if he couldn't spend even a minute in peace. He resembled a broken, yet somehow still-functioning top—noisy, restless, and completely incapable of remaining still. Finally, another minute of agonizing idleness completely drove him crazy.

— "I'm so bored... No... I'm SO bored... OK, fine, I didn't come here just to fly, I wanted to, hmmhmhs, I wanted to ask you to do SOMETHING"

. . .