She had learned not to flinch.
Not at raised voices, not at shifting loyalties, not at the careful framing of words that meant something else entirely. She knew the signs—how they started, how they sharpened, how they set in before anyone noticed.
She had hoped the Dream SMP wouldn’t have them.
Then she used her abilities.
Power spilled from her fingertips, warping the battlefield in ways that weren’t natural. The second it happened, the way they looked at her changed—no longer just curiosity, no longer just kindness.
It was interest.
Now she was running again—not from Pogtopia, who had taken her in—but from the very people she had once trusted.
She makes the mistake of thinking she’s safe with Technoblade and Wilbur.
Technoblade was practical, decisive, brutal in his honesty.
"You’re not weak," he told her one evening. "You don’t need protection. You need direction."
She frowned. "And what if I don’t want direction?"
He smirked. "Then you’re in the wrong place."
Wilbur was smooth, intelligent, always working toward something.
"You know what happens to people who wander without purpose?" he mused one day. "They get caught. They get used."
She hesitated. "I don’t think I need a purpose."
Wilbur chuckled. "No one thinks they do. Until they lose everything."
She hated how much sense that made.
Tommy was relentless.
"You stress too much," he said, nudging her shoulder. "You don’t need to keep looking over your shoulder like someone’s gonna jump you."
She wanted to believe him.
Then she noticed how, when she turned too fast, he was always there.
Watching.
Philza was quiet, careful, patient.
"You’ve had a hard time trusting people, huh?" he asked one night.
She shrugged. "I have my reasons."
He smiled faintly. "You won’t need them here."
She wanted to trust that.
Wanted to believe it.
Ranboo was easygoing, always distracting, always pulling her into conversations before she could get lost in her thoughts.
"You should stop doubting everything," he said. "Not everything’s a trick."
She swallowed. "And if it is?"
Ranboo smiled. "Then you’re smart enough to figure it out before it’s too late."
She laughed.
She hated that she wanted to believe him.
Slimecicle kept things light.
"You know, it’s really funny watching you try to figure everyone out," he mused one afternoon. "It’s like you expect us to turn on you any second."
She hesitated. "People have done it before."
Slimecicle grinned. "Then maybe you’re overdue for people who won’t."
She wanted that to be true.
Sam Nook was steady, reliable, reassuring.
"You’re safe here," he told her one evening. "You can stop waiting for something to go wrong."
She exhaled slowly. "I don’t know if I can."
"You can," he said simply. "You just need time."
She didn’t feel safe.
But she wanted to.
She didn’t trust them.
But she needed to.
Because what was the alternative?
She noticed things changed when she asked too many questions.
Wilbur’s easy amusement tightened, turning calculating.
Technoblade’s blunt honesty grew quieter, like there were things better left unsaid.
Tommy brushed her off faster, Ranboo redirected her too smoothly, Slimecicle laughed too easily.
Nothing changed.
But everything felt different.
She counted steps.
Not hers.
Not theirs.
But the ones that always matched her own, no matter what hall she wandered through.
She wasn’t sure who it was.
She wasn’t sure if it was always the same person.
But she was sure of one thing.
She was never truly alone.
And now, she knew it.