Jörmungandr and his posse were eating a nice breakfast of potatoes and sausage they'd managed to trade with some "NPC" traders, with the former ruining the entire mood due to his lengthy and unnatural silence, when a break in reality appeared.
Of course, before this event, it was quite peaceful honestly—albeit on the surface. Though it seemed like smooth sailing and calm waters for Jörmungandr, a monster of unease lurked beneath, a leviathan that was waiting for the right moment to strike.
A strange hollowness had sprout in his chest recently, and he couldn't quite seem to root it out; it stuck to him as if obsessed with disturbing his fragile sense of self, and it refused to relinquish its hold on him until he was overrun by it.
Then, space opened up.
The trio and him quietly stared at the sudden crack in reality, the trios eyes nearly popping out of their sockets while Jörmungandr just stared with a childish innocence.
Turning to them, he asked, "Does this.... usually.... happen on Earth—"
"NO!" they jumped, with Laura leading the charge, her eyes as alarmed as the Twin's; they couldn't let their innocent Patrons get any misconceptions on what was normal and not normal!
Common sense!
Charity!
Sharing!
Empathy!
Asking for permission before charming forgiveness!
Not using adorableness and/or attractiveness arbitrarily to your personal advantage in order to achieve your goals!
Jörmungandr knew none of these things, and had to be taught them one by one—especially the last one, surprisingly. He was very good at giving a convincing puppy dog eye despite his more serpentine nature, and was able to get more portions of food that way—repeatedly at that.
Just last night, the Twins went hungry cause Jörmungandr ate their portion without their permission, and then got off Scott-free with mumbling a few words and giving a sad puppy face.
But Truth and Dare's hunger didn't matter right now—the crack in space however, did.
The crack revealed the scenery of a dusky sun sliding beneath rolling hills of midnight strands of grass, and another world seemed to have appeared in front of the little group's eyes; they could even feel this other sun's warmth, as if its light was shining down upon them through a window.
A strange light entered Jörmungandr's eyes, the same color as the other world's fading sun, and an odd longing overcame him.
❝𝑱ö𝒓𝒎𝒖𝒏𝒈𝒂𝒏𝒅𝒓?❞
𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝒎𝒚𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒊𝒐𝒖𝒔 𝒘𝒐𝒎𝒂𝒏'𝒔 𝒔𝒎𝒊𝒍𝒆 𝒔𝒆𝒆𝒎𝒆𝒅 𝒕𝒐 𝒑𝒓𝒐𝒎𝒊𝒔𝒆 𝒂𝒏 𝒆𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒕𝒚 𝒕𝒐 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒍𝒐𝒏𝒆𝒍𝒚 𝒔𝒆𝒓𝒑𝒆𝒏𝒕. 𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒖𝒏𝒍𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒖𝒅𝒅𝒆𝒏𝒍𝒚 𝒔𝒘𝒆𝒆𝒕 𝒃𝒍𝒖𝒆 𝒔𝒌𝒚 𝒔𝒆𝒆𝒎𝒆𝒅 𝒐𝒏𝒍𝒚 𝒕𝒐 𝒍𝒆𝒏𝒅 𝒕𝒐 𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒆𝒔𝒔, 𝒂𝒔 𝒑𝒂𝒍𝒆, 𝒇𝒍𝒂𝒙𝒆𝒏 𝒉𝒂𝒊𝒓 𝒈𝒍𝒐𝒘𝒆𝒅 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒂 𝒈𝒐𝒍𝒅𝒆𝒏 𝒉𝒂𝒍𝒐, 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒆𝒎𝒑𝒉𝒂𝒔𝒊𝒛𝒆𝒅 𝒃𝒆𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒊𝒇𝒖𝒍 𝒃𝒍𝒖𝒆 𝒆𝒚𝒆𝒔 𝒂𝒔 𝒗𝒂𝒔𝒕 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒔𝒘𝒆𝒆𝒕 𝒂𝒔 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒖𝒓𝒓𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒅𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒄𝒐𝒍𝒐𝒓; 𝒊𝒕 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒐𝒅𝒅, 𝒃𝒖𝒕 𝒉𝒆 𝒇𝒆𝒍𝒕 𝒂𝒔 𝒊𝒇 𝒊𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒎𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒕 𝒐𝒇 𝒊𝒏𝒇𝒊𝒏𝒊𝒕𝒚, 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒍𝒅 𝒔𝒆𝒆𝒎𝒆𝒅 𝒕𝒐 𝒃𝒆 𝒎𝒂𝒅𝒆 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒉𝒆𝒓.
❝𝑰𝒔 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒏𝒂𝒎𝒆? 𝑻𝒉𝒂𝒕'𝒔 𝒔𝒐 𝒄𝒐𝒐𝒍! 𝑴𝒚 𝒏𝒂𝒎𝒆 𝒊𝒔…❞
"...Asta..."
"Huh? Did you say something J...Jor?"
Unable to get his name correct, the awkward halt of Laura's words established a new nickname for him, though the man in question didn't care much—he was instead fixated upon the suddenly rise in emotions.
A lump formed in his throat, an ache in his chest, while his voice became rough from the changes.
"...Link... hands..."
Quietly, he reached for Truth's hand, and gestured for his group to stay behind him; having been with Jörmungandr for two months now, the group understood, linking hands with each other before his outstretched hand, as a type of defensive formation with their Patron at the front and Dare at the back to hide them from other eyes.
Jörmungandr fearlessly yet slowly entered the crack, his hand tightly grasping his little groups as he promised himself to never let go of them—these people were far too precious for him to risk endangering their lives; he found these companion's personal welfare to exceed his own.
Delicately, his feet bare, he stepping upon the golden tipped, midnight grass, the coolness and the sweet smell of flora on the high winds of the grassy planes tickling his sensitive nose. Outcroppings of rocks and other stone formations were scattered here and there, the falling sun casting long, looming shadows in a way that made his anxiety burn.
Tightening his grasp on Truth's hand, he looked like an anxious child searching for something precious for a moment, his usually narrow eyes wide and his thin lips pursed with concern.
The trio had silently followed their Patron, and Truth's concerned gaze at his Patron's face enticed Jörmungandr to relax his subconscious expression, replacing it with a more calm and blank stare. The wind was cool, and it tugged at his longer, jagged hair, the black fabric of his cloak lined with gold from the similarly colored rays of the retreating star.
Even in an unexpected and new world, where most would flounder, Jörmungandr instead looked to be at peace, as if nothing could hold meaning to or effect him in any way.
He was kind to them, but whenever he wasn't the manifestation curiosity and innocence, he often seemed rather apathetic towards the world, as he did now; at least, that was Laura's opinion on him.
So how odd it must've been, for the reserved and empty Jörmungandr, to look so shaken and frantic when blood was scented in the wind.
"Jörmungandr...?"
Their Patron, who'd sworn not to leave them, released Truth's hands, and ran in the blood's direction, his expression panicked, and his narrowed golden eyes wide and shaking.