Xerean said she's doing fine. And Scar believes her. There was a strange look about her at first: she looked fine, healthy, and like her normal self, but only physically. There was a hollow, haunted look in her eyes, distant and not present at the best of times, filled with fear and tears at the worst. Now, she's smiling, genuine and bright. The display of power she showed BigB left her with a sort of amused twinkle, and the stiffness has left her posture. Things feel like they're getting a bit closer to normal, even with BigB's starting out as an honorary member of Hermitcraft, until they can either ensure he can go home safely, or something else happens. Jabber seems very insistent that he stays alive. It doesn't feel like war. That's all gloomy and oppressive, like a vignette with a thick border and a sort of uncomfortably warm feel in the air. But then, maybe war is different for them than for the Hermits. What does he know?

The next month is increasingly normal. BigB decides to stay with Tango, and calms down considerably, even growing familiar with Xerean's antics and sudden visits. Grian and Doc get into another minor war, and Scar continues to make Scarland, occasionally taking breaks to advance his use of the Chaos Witch power, specifically flying, which has gone quite well. Jabber doesn't come to speak to him or teach him anything herself, but he thinks she's still watching, a little prickle at the back of his neck when he messes around with Xerean or tries to HotGuy Grian out of the sky. They've kept his new abilities hidden, too, a little golden ring around a thicker branch of his horn(or maybe they're antlers? He's not entirely sure) that constantly keeps any sort of magic thing he does hidden, unless it's his Elven-based abilities. He actually forgets a few times about everything supposedly going on, so calm is the environment that he's in.

Then, he starts seeing it.

It starts in a mirror. Washing his face from a long day of building, he looks into the reflective surface, then yelps and throws himself back in surprise. There was someone else staring at him through the mirror. They had long, tangled and messy brown hair, green eyes, pointed ears, and a collection of scars across their face. It looked like him, but malicious and dangerous, a wicked grin splitting its features. They also weren't wearing what he was, something dark and almost invisible in the rest of the dark mirror. Taking a few more breaths, he moves back over to the mirror. It's still there–like a twisted version of him, with his same hair and eye colors, scars, and overall physical appearance, but darker and menacing. Their eyes are the same green, but more reptilian, and hold his gaze in a furious, mad, menacing way. They're smirking, too, very much like his own, but betrays the clear ill intent they possess. Another thing Scar notes is that the area around the mirror and in the mirror itself loses its lighting, like he's in a pitch black room with only one light above him. It casts strange shadows over his reflection, making them twist and coil like serpents. Creepy. But perhaps one of the most striking differences is their clothing. They have a dark purple poncho draped across their shoulders, lined with flowers and tattered along the edges. Underneath, either a pale cream or white shirt with smudges of black and brown, some red and tears, and some sort of light purple cloth wrapped around his abdomen. Scar moves away again, unsettled. The lights return to normal, and he takes a deep breath. It's probably Jabber trying to mess with him again. Some little thing to keep him on his toes. Yeah.

When they appear again, then again, and again and again, he grows less convinced. Jabber hasn't even shown up to shove him off of something or make him fight until he can barely lift his arms in weeks. He's beginning to suspect they're actually a person. The two of them blink at different times, and if he stares at them for long enough, he can see the slight rise and fall of their shoulders as they breathe. Finally, after two weeks of this thing staring at him ominously through almost any reflective surface(so long as he's alone), he decides to take action. He heads into the bathroom where he first saw them, and confidently marches up to the mirror. They're waiting for him, but this time, he swears they know what he wants, a little light in their eyes goading him on. "What in the world are you? Why won't you leave me alone?" He asks, and it's an immediate change. They roll their eyes and sag their shoulders, as if pleased and exasperated at the same time. "Took you long enough to acknowledge me. You're disappointingly boring." They say. They sound like him, if he was speaking through a radio or a toy's voice box or something. "What are you?" He repeats firmly, and they sigh. "Surely you've figured it out? Come on, don't disappoint me any more. Use that little brain. It must be good for something." Laying his ears back a little in clear offence, Scar replies. "You're me?" There's a sound of stage cheers and raucous applause. "Oh, good! So not an entire disappointment!" They say, and Scar frowns. "I'm not stupid. I just don't get people stalking me through my mirrors very often." They chuckle, smiling at him. "That's the least of your problems." Scar tilts his head. "Then what isn't?" They shrug. "Kinda obvious, isn't it? Or have they not said anything?" Before he can answer, they continue. "No, they would have. Now, a question for you. You know what I am, but do you know who I am? I'll give you a hint: I was the last person to speak to your new friend before he came to you." Scar thinks. Assuming it's BigB, he said he was running from–"You!" He cries, both fearful and accusatory. Is this the guy that hurt his friends? They laugh, a high, giddy cackle and spread their arms, as if presenting themself. "Me." They affirm. Scar exhales sharply, torn between running to go alert Xerean, or asking his own questions. "What is it you want to know? Come on, I can tell you're dying to ask me something." They say, and Scar glances at the almost invisible exit. "Do I want to?" He challenges, and they shrug. What was it Xerean called them–him? Chaos Scar? Yeah. "Do you?" He replies, and Scar sighs, flicking his ear. "What did I...what did you do? Why are my friends so scared?" Chaos Scar grins, and crosses his arms. "Do you want to know, indeed. I can give you the long answer, or the short answer." Scar hisses through his teeth, shifting on his feet. "The short one...please." He says. "I killed them. Simple as that. Lightsabers are wonderfully good weapons." Scar pauses. "What, you expected a normal weapon? That'd have been boring. And no normal thing would rattle Xe as that did." Scar keeps his face from showing his mix of disgust and sadness. "Why are you here? What do you want?" He asks, and Chaos Scar shrugs, leaning back. "You'll see. But I'd suggest you don't tell anyone about this little interaction." Scar narrows his eyes, lifting his head. "Why not? You're in a mirror. If you could get in here, you would be. I know that much. I could go tell her and you wouldn't be able to do anything." Maybe he's wrong, but why would a murderous, crazy thing like this stay for a little chat in a mirror? "Not now I can't, but I can make things worse when I do. And I have plenty to work with now." As he speaks, a pair of eyes appears behind him, and he fades away to reveal Scar himself, and that the eyes belong to a snake, looming over and behind him. He fearfully looks back, but doesn't see anything, so he turns around again, just as a serpent lunges at him, seemingly through the mirror. With a startled cry, he stumbles back, drawing his sword, and the darkness lifts when he can no longer see himself. There's nothing there. Just an illusion. Chaos Scar's cackle lingers, though. "See you soon." Scar shivers, breathing heavily, sword gripped tightly in his hand, yet useless at his side. He leaves.

* * *

Unknown to the two, someone had been listening in. She hisses angrily, disappearing in a small wisp of smoke and light, sinking out of the world and into a place, a small hole outside reality: her home. She recognizes what's coming, which doesn't bode well for her, which means it definitely doesn't bode well for Xerean. And the other guys, she supposes. Striding across the room, Jabber opens a door and enters another room. This one has no walls, no door(that's visible), and smells of fake strawberry scents. Also, it's filled with cats. Reaching down, she picks one up to hold, one that looks like the cat Scar loves so dearly. While she couldn't care less about him, she recognizes he clearly has important value to Xerean, and she can admit that whatever he's doing, it makes her happy, so she'll figure this out. Chaos Scar has found him, and so she needs to prepare for the actual conflict, not the general conflict. Just like last time, but this time, she'll be ready. That Watcher will probably be a good person to tell first, she decides, as he seems to have at least a slightly more mature reaction to these things. He has more sense, at least. And he doesn't always seem so fed up with her like the Admin is. Waving her hand, he suddenly appears, halfway through a sentence. "–ave a go at it." He pauses, then takes note of his surroundings and his wings fluff up. "Where am I?" He asks, and she sets down the cat. "An infinite room of cats." She answers, and with that set and out of the way, she says what she was going to say originally. "Your friend Scar had a special visitor today. Chaos Scar showed up in his mirror; had been for a while, it seems. I didn't get much out of it, but it still says enough. We're going too slow. I doubt that we would be ready if they popped up tomorrow." The Watcher exhales, emotions running through his face faster than she can identify them, but he eventually nods. "So why not tell Xerean? Or X? Our Admin, who's supposed to ensure they don't get through?" Jabber shrugs. "You're more experienced in this. And while Xerean got the Watchers to remove the burn, I wouldn't count that they'll stay out of the fight." She answers. The Watcher folds his wings against his back, and sighs deeply. "So what do you want me to do about it?" She waves a hand. "Nothing yet. Keep showing Scar how to fly. But, when they arrive, I have a semblance of a plan. Your friends, valiant as they may try to be, will only be a nuisance and get themselves killed by staying here. When they come, you and I will gather them, and shove them through the Rift. Xisuma will probably be busy with Admin and Code things. I'll send them back to the place you lot went last time, with the little tiny squeaky man and the guy who hopped worlds and reeked of possession." He really did. Not that he was at the time possessed, but something had taken root in him and sunk into his head. He still carried plenty of residue of that experience, and whatever it was, Jabber has no intention of interacting with it. The Watcher furrows his brow quizzically at the last one, but doesn't comment on it. "You mean Empires?" Jabber waves dismissively. "The place with the colourful guy Xerean said she knew and the God. Sure." It doesn't matter to her what it's called. She knew what it was called when it was relevant, and it isn't anymore, so she forgot. "Okay. So, when Chaos Scar shows up, you want me to get everyone together and send them all back to Empires." She nods. "Scar stays." She adds, and the Watcher shifts, a black cat with purple eyes coming to rub against his leg. "Xerean wouldn't want him to be a part of this." She gives him a hard stare. "That doesn't matter. I understand she has some attachment to him, but if it's a choice between her survival and his, I'm choosing Xerean. He stays, because he has power. Power that we should take advantage of." The Watcher frowns a little, but nods. "I'll tell her when I see it time. Continue on as normal, and I'll get you if I need you." She tells him, waving so he disappears like someone clears smoke from the air.

It's just another fight. She'll come out on top, like always.