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Tango saw red.
He did! Promise!
And Tango didn’t mean that he saw red in the metaphorical way, like people often claim to when they are very angry, though, well– he supposed that interpretation wasn’t necessarily wrong either, but still! He was furious and stressed, and he was having to pierce his tongue with his fanged teeth to bite back the long string of swears threatening to escape his lips.
Ugh, why did Grian insist that they attempt to stay PG while playing a death game?
He knew the answer, but that didn’t mean he cared for it, but Tango tried his best to not argue and abide by them anyway. It was a small price to pay to be included.
Tango was a blazeborn, and because of his heritage, his vision literally became tinted with red the more extreme his emotions became. Doc theorized that it was something related to how red his eyes were, but seeing how very few blazeborns even attempted to live a full life away from the nether and their birth Pyre, there was little information on them in the overworld, and the goat-creeper hybrid hadn’t gotten around to attempting in-depth research on blazeborn anatomy or culture before getting to know Tango.
Anger simmered violently in his stomach, threatening to boil over as he tried (and failed) to manage his stress and frustration. Everything seemed to be going wrong for him, and it was all piling up, and he wasn’t sure how much longer he could tolerate it all! His hair grew in both size and temperature as he stalked away from his murder snail and complained about the actions of others. Even while actively moving and talking, it was difficult to think clearly, difficult to focus!
The extra energy and adrenaline that pumped through his veins were the result of territorial instincts every blaze had ingrained in their code, aiding them as they protected whatever they thought of as theirs. If Tango lived his life like most other blazeborns have the last who-knows-how-long, then perhaps he could have cultivated his fury to be a mighty asset to his Pyre, likely tasked to guard a nether fortress from invaders, but that life wasn’t for him. Tango knew that for a fact, and even if he wasn’t as sure, he doubted his old Pyre would welcome him back with open arms after functionally deserting them.
Even if they would accept his return, Tango didn’t plan to crawl back to his old Pyre and prove them right, that he would regret leaving his home. There were times where he grew uncomfortably needy, desperate for a Pyre’s connection, but he’s learned to soothe himself by seeking out his friends. They were his Pyre now, even if he hadn’t expressed such a concept to them yet. They didn’t need to know the exact reason why he was suddenly clinging to anyone who would let him after emerging from working on redstone the past two weeks.
If the involuntary response had any uses for the life he led now, he didn’t know them. All Tango could see were downsides, his genetic coding maladapted to the world he was currently living in. Whenever his emotions got the best of him, he attempted to control himself, he really did, but it wasn’t like the fragility of the overworld could handle any margin of error like the nether could. Tango struggled often to tame the fire and bloodlust within him when every fiber of his being itched– screamed– to destroy, destroy, destroy!
Such an instinct may have been a strength to his ancestors, but it wasn’t to Tango, and he learned to despise this part of himself over the years. The willpower he had to gather in order to hold himself back– to prevent himself from becoming as hot as a dying star– was astronomical, and maintaining it was sickening.
When Tango’s vision went red, he would make senseless choices and take irrational risks, but there wasn’t much he could do. It wasn’t like he had a say in the coding of his genetics! It wasn’t his fault that he was hardwired for a much warmer climate, one where he could let off steam when it got this bad without causing irreparable damage! It wasn’t–
Do it, a voice in the back of his mind tempted. Burn bright and fierce. Show them how dangerous you really are. Make them fear you, Tango! Don’t let them view you as weak.
Tango shook his head as if to physically dismiss the thought, trying to bring himself back into the moment. If his friends were speaking to him, he wasn’t registering a thing they said. He knew that he needed to calm down, but the quickest way was to burn off steam, but it was too risky, it was too much! Too much, too much, too much–
He could accidentally hurt someone, which may have been fine if he was permitted to kill, but he wasn’t a red name yet, and he couldn’t break the rules like that without consequences, and he didn’t want the others to hate him or kick him out of the game... Tango didn’t want to lose his friends, his Pyre! He had worked too hard to get to where he was just to let it all slip through his fingers like grains of sand!
Smoke and fumes billowed off of him, unable to prevent their existence any longer. The rational part of his mind ordered him to jump into the water, to extinguish himself before this whole section of the map looked more like a meteor landing site than a base, but his body refused to obey. His body seemed to move without him consciously aware of what he was doing, and he could hear himself talking, but he couldn’t make out what he or his friends were saying. Focus, Tek! Focus!
Tango had to stay calm– try to stay calm– the normal way, even as his body was trembling with the effort. Even as he jumped around the base he hadn’t even managed to finish before someone (cough, Scar) took a flint and steel to it, attempting to outrun Tangastrapod, his snailificatior of death! Even as various snarls, growls, and irritated cries spilled out of him…
Everything was just building, building, building, and he braced for his will and spirit to finally Snap! under the pressure, and, and– it never came.
Instead, something pleasantly cold took Tango’s hand in their hold. The contrasting sensation seemed to snap Tango out of whatever funk he had entered, the red that flooded his senses clearing up as his consciousness was fully returned to his body. Tango blinked rapidly, encouraging his eyes to focus on the owner of the cold.
“It’s okay, Tango, just breathe,” Scott instructed serenely, tone even and touch soothing. “Big breath in, deep breath out, just like that. Good job, firefly, you’re doing great. Just like that, keep going, keep focusing on breathing and the sound of my voice.”
Tango did his best to match Scott’s exaggerated breathing, though he couldn't bring himself to maintain eye contact. As the blinding irritation eased, shame and self-consciousness took its place. Tango’s gaze fell to his right palm, the hand Scott was cradling gingerly.
Using his ice abilities, Scott traced designs made of ice on his up and down Tango’s arm. Because of Tango’s abnormally high body temperature, the ice designs didn’t last long, melting and then promptly turning into steam, but Scott didn’t complain. Instead, Scott simply acted as if the evaporated ice just gave him more of a canvas, replacing the designs as soon as the previous ones dissipated.
As Tango surrendered to the tranquil and pacifying nature of his boyfriend’s chilly touch, his emotions settled and his body temperature lowered enough for the flame on his head to shrink. Tango’s code prevented his fire from charring anyone or anything under a certain degree, which is part of what made his raging emotions so hazardous to those around him.
The ice designs Scott created began to last longer, Scott’s magic able to hold itself together against Tango’s typical range of heat. This meant that Scott’s canvas wasn’t renewing itself as fast, but that didn’t deter him. Instead, Scott expanded his canvas, trailing the artistry from Tango’s arm over his shoulder to spread the ice to his chest and then down his other arm.
Tango may have described it like a warm hug, but, well, it was quite the opposite, and it was fantabular, just so everyone was aware of that fact. He cracked a weak smile at the silliness of his mind, but it dropped after only a heartbeat of time as embarrassment took over as his primary emotion.
He slumped forward into his boyfriend, resting his forehead against Scott’s shoulder and sighing heavily. Scott wrapped his arms around him, pulling him closer to his chest. His boyfriend was so pleasantly cold that Tango wanted nothing more than to curl up in a comfortable bed and allow Scott to small spoon him, but that wasn’t an option right now… It wouldn’t be until the games were over. They were a part of different factions, and the session was still running, meaning they couldn’t stay still much longer or those stupid jerks would catch up, even though they seemed to have moved a decent bit away from their snails.
“Thank you,” Tango murmured, breaking the quiet peace sooner than he wanted, but he had already taken enough of Scott’s time. He knew it was important to Scott to play these games fair and by the rules, and the rules instructed against outside-the-game-earned favoritism, and Tango hadn’t done anything to earn Scott’s favor since Wild Life started. With how things have been going for him and his team, Tango was sure he’s done the opposite and he doubted that would change anytime soon.
“Of course, lovebug. It’s the least I could do.” Scott continued to rub gentle circles on Tango’s back as he pressed a chaste kiss against his forehead. Void, Tango loved him. “Feeling any better?”
Tango raised his head so he could look up at his boyfriend, forever grateful that Scott loved him back. Instead of a verbal answer, Tango reached up to cup Scott’s face with both his hands, gently guiding him down a few inches so Tango could kiss him. Scott allowed Tango to take the lead with the kiss, though he pulled away before it became too deep.
“I would love to stay here and kiss you breathless,” Scott started, sneaking in the flirt with a teasing gleam in his beautiful blue eyes, “but I don’t think our snails will leave us alone for much longer. I don’t know about you, but I would love not to go down a life when I could have prevented it.”
Tango’s tail straightened in alarm, spinning on his heel to look at where Scott had glanced. As expected, Tangastropod and whatever Scott’s snail was named were crawling dangerously close to them.
Scott interlocked Tango’s fingers with his before breaking into a mild run, pulling Tango behind him. “Come on! If they get too close, they will leap forward!”
Tango squeaked in surprise as he stumbled after his boyfriend, struggling to gain his footing at first, but he refused to let go of Scott’s hold, not yet. An amused laugh escaped Tango’s lips as he and his boyfriend ran away from their snails of death together, the humor not lost on him now that he was feeling better, and Scott joined in on his laughter, which was always music to Tango’s ears.
Scott hadn’t magically taken away his all-consuming emotions, of course… and Tango was sure he would become victim to them again, that much was to be assumed, but, well… Scott had been there for Tango when he had needed him, when he had needed an anchor to ground him to reality and help him regain control of himself, and that was more than enough for him. Tango knew it would all be okay, as long as he had his friends, his loved ones, his Pyre by his side.