Chapter Text
“ ̇/ᒷꖎᑑ⚍ᔑ ᔑʖᔑリ↸𝙹リᒷ↸ ⚍ᓭ”
“ リ𝙹 ⍑ᒷ ↸╎↸リ'ℸ ̣”
“ ᔑꖎꖎ ℸ ̣ ⍑ᒷ|| ᒷ⍊ᒷ∷ ↸𝙹 ╎ᓭ ꖎᒷᔑ⍊ᒷ , ꖎᒷᔑ⍊ᒷ , ꖎᒷᔑ⍊ᒷ ”
“ ||𝙹⚍'∷ᒷ ʖᒷ╎リ⊣ ↸∷ᔑᒲᔑℸ ̣ ╎ᓵ”
“ ∴⍑|| ᔑ∷ᒷリ'ℸ ̣ ||𝙹⚍ ⚍!¡ᓭᒷℸ ̣”
“ ʖᒷᓵᔑ⚍ᓭᒷ ⍑ᒷ -”
Rubbing his forehead, a wandering Evolutionist peeks his head into one of the large double doors. Sparkling purple swirls are decorated over them, lighting up the faded glow of the Evolutionist’s own eyes.
“ ꖎ𝙹⍊ᒷ , ∴ᒷ ⍑ᔑ⍊ᒷ ᔑ ⍊╎ᓭ╎ℸ ̣ 𝙹∷”
After watching two tall figures turn towards the door, the Evolutionist comes in, flinching when the door slams too fast behind him. He picks his nail against one of his bandaged hands, but he keeps his eyes set on glaring at the figures towering over him.
“This one isn’t like us,” one of them grumbles.
“It was one of them, wasn’t it?” the other questions, tilting their head before they lean down, flicking a finger against the Evolutionist’s forehead. When he falls back, they laugh. “Oh, love, look at how they fall!”
“Where are my friends?” the Evolutionist hisses, standing up with a grunt. He notes the obsidian flooring and the purple glows of the walls that match the doors’ spirals. Weirdly decorated, 4/10 stars. Neither thing answers him, so he tries again. “I said, where are my friends?!”
“Are they asking us?” the head-flicker of the two asks, turning to the other. Then they lean down, their veiled face inches from the Evolutionist’s. With how thin the veil is, he can see the faint glow of their eyes behind it. It defeats the point of hiding them, doesn’t it? “Are you asking us, little one?”
He scoffs. Who else is he asking? Not the obsidian, that’s for sure! “Of course I’m asking you. You’re the ones leading us all over the place, right? You should know where my friends are.”
The other one leans down now, their face horribly veiled as well to hide their glowing eyes. What is it with hiding how you look around here? “You didn’t get to leave with them. That’s not our fault-”
“Yes it is!” he argues, pointing at the figure and then the other. They’re tall, sure, and kind of scary-looking, but what can they do? They already took everything. “You’re meant to watch us and take care of us so we can go to each new update safely! You’re just scared to admit you fucked up!”
Brutal honesty seems to be the only way to get through these things. He learned that tactic somewhere, even if he doesn’t remember itty bitty details. If it worked before, it’ll keep working.
“We prepared every portal for you and the rest of them. How is it our fault YOU didn’t obey?”
He can’t help but laugh. They come out in giggles, tired and over it. Over all of it. He doesn’t even know why he’s still here, or why he thought bargaining with things like them is even possible.
He rubs his eyes, wiping away tears he forgot he still gets sometimes. With how many times he’s cried already, it’s just another thing he’s too used to where he doesn’t realize it anymore.
But he’s not in the shitty obsidian room anymore.
The Evolutionist looks around a moment, wondering what kind of sick game he’s been thrown into this time. He already knows they must’ve been having a fun time messing with their heads for years, so if this is one of those things, then it has to be because of them.
He’s hesitant to walk to those doors. They’re glass, not painted in the swirls the obsidian room had, and there’s already a hand pushing it open before he can pull it.
He quickly steps to the side and hears laughter. He recognizes his own giggles first, but he can’t see where it’s coming from. He’s looking around, only seeing a trio of shadows reflected on the ground, so he goes over to them as the laughing gets louder.
The shadows are familiar. Of course they are, because those tall things just have to mess up his mind even more, right?
He stares at the shadows. Bunny ears, headphones, and the third one. He recognizes his younger shadow the easiest between them. It’s the second one he recognizes soon after, leaving distaste in his eyes that he has to close them.
When he opens them, all that’s left is the third shadow. He checks to make sure the other two haven’t come alive or something, then he only watches the third. It has nothing for him to remember, being just a shadow and all.
“Are we done here?”
Yelping, he turns and swings his fist at the air behind him. It takes him a second to fully realize it’s just air, but he keeps his guard up, slowly raising his fists and distancing his legs.
He’ll be damned if the air becomes his worst enemy. He may as well be thrown right into the Void if they’re going to-
Well.
Seems they’re mindreaders now.
The ground beneath him has vanished, and he’s falling.
He can’t keep a fighting stance anymore at this rate, so he holds on for dear life and shuts his eyes. No amount of wishing everything will be fine can save him, so he just hopes the landing either wipes him out or doesn’t leave a ringing sound in his head.
He hates those ringing sounds that happen after a crash. He’s gotten that before in the Downside Up, a place he doesn’t even want to think about right now.
So he tries to clear his mind. He thinks of his friends; if only he could remember any of their names though. He remembers they exist, don’t they? He thinks they had to have existed, because what else could they be? He wasn’t crazy at the start.
He’s not crazy now either, to anyone in the Void trying to claim otherwise.
────────────────────────
Grian feels restless.
Some hour ago he resorted to chewing on the back of his chair, which is cold against his teeth, until his head snaps up at Xisuma’s arrival. He bites back from complaining, glancing at the other Hermits who’ve been waiting just as long as he has.
“Sorry to keep you all waiting,” Xisuma starts off. He holds his hand out behind him, and that’s where all Hermits’ eyes focus on. “We have someone new wanting to wait here until we find somewhere he can live. Doc, Ren and I have checked him per safety precautions already, letting him through the whitelist properly, so that he’s good to be brought here.”
Ren hits a fist against his chest, beaming with pride for being helpful. If his tail wagging at the admin’s praise isn’t enough to tell, that is.
Doc, on the other hand, is glaring where the newcomer’s supposed to pop in. Maybe something happened during the safety check that he’s worried about?
“They’re not invisible, right?” Scar asks, squinting real hard as he looks around. Even Jellie’s mimicking him as she looks around too, squinting just as much. “Because I don’t see-”
“There!” someone yells, which Grian guesses is probably Bdubs.
And he’s right, or whoever said that is right! Someone appears where Xisuma’s gesturing, finally, so it’s..
Oh.
Oh no, no, no, no.
Grian tries to press his wings against each other, trying even harder not to be too obvious as he watches the newcomer carefully.
Why him of all people?
“Yo!” Ren hollers, waving his arms around to greet the guy. “Welcome to Hermitcraft, my man!”
“Welcome,” Xisuma says, smiling way too friendly at him. Grian knows he doesn’t know any better, he’s just doing his job and he did do the whole safety procedure thing. Xisuma looks over the Hermits. “This is.. Oh, sorry. I don’t think I actually learned your name yet.”
Something twists itself in Grian’s stomach at the forced smile on the guy’s face. It doesn’t look right. He doesn’t look right. Why are his clothes tattered? Where’d his shoes go, and why do his socks have holes?
“I’m Taurtis!”
The name still fits. Even with the new look, or old if you wanted to be technical about it, it doesn't wipe his name away.
“Right then, Taurtis,” Xisuma sighs. “I know I’ve already told you, but my name is Xisuma, the admin of this server. If you have any questions or run into any issues or concerns, you can message me privately or in the main chat on your communicator.”
“Is someone gonna tour him around or anything?” Jevin asks.
“I VOLUNTEER!” Grian yells, shooting his hand up and standing in his chair. He doesn’t know what Taurtis remembers, if he even has any memories, but he can’t let anything about himself slip out of the guy’s mouth. This is Grian’s territory now, not whatever hellscape Taurtis came from. “I- I said that louder than I thought I was gonna. But I still volunteer!”
Xisuma nods at him, and Grian lets out a sigh of absolute relief. “That settles it then. Taurtis, Grian will be your tour buddy. And I’ve said it already, but as a reminder, you can come to me or any of the other Hermits for questions or concerns you may have.” He pauses, as if to wait for anyone to throw their two-cents in, then he goes on. “If that’s all, this meeting is over, and you can all go back to what you were doing.”
Grian jumps out of his chair, hearing Zedaph scream and his own chair fall back, and scurries up to greet Taurtis. He holds his hand out, wearing the friendliest smile he can pretend to offer. “Hello there, Taurtis! I’m Grian, and-”
“I don’t care.”
Pressing his lips in a line, Grian brings his hand down and watches Taurtis brush past him, going who-knows-where. So he follows, glancing to make sure the other Hermits have already gone off to do their own things. “Um, uh, where are- Where are you going, Taurtis?”
“Looking around, duh.”
Could’ve said it nicer.
Grian sighs. He’s upset already and he just got here. Does he remember me then? “I get if you’d prefer to do things on your own, but-”
He’s stopped by Taurtis turning around to look at him. He might be slightly taller, but it’s only by a few inches. “Look, Gree-ahn, I’ve got this. I don’t need your pity.”
Grian scrunches his nose. “Hold down on the hostility there, pal. I’m just doing what I volunteered to do.”
Taurtis steps forward, noticing the other moving back. “You left me once, and now you’re scared I’m here. What kind of friend is scared of their own like that?”
“I’m not scared of you,” Grian lies. “And I didn’t have a choice.”
“We always have a choice!” Taurtis argues, stepping close again. He doesn’t try and let the avian move back, instead he grabs Grian’s sweater collar and tightens his grip when he brings their faces about three inches apart. “You chose to completely ditch me like you did back in highschool!”
Grian grits his teeth before turning his head and latching his jaw around Taurtis’ arm, biting as hard as he can until the other drops him. “You had Sam!”
Taurtis laughs at him, shaking his head. He’s ignoring the minor bruise patch on his arm, but at least he’s clutching it. “So did you, and you still left!” He narrows his eyes, and there's something in them that pinches at part of Grian's heart. They're Taurtis', but there's violence there. Remnants of what they went through more than once together, and likely whatever Grian left him to deal with. “You and I both know how he gets.”
“I didn’t mean to leave you with him,” Grian says, earnest. “I just wanted to leave and clear my head. It was because of him, not you.”
“Didn’t even try to help me,” comes out of his mouth as more of an observation than a question. “You never even tried to get back in touch with me either.”
“Neither did you-”
Taurtis grabs his collar again, using his good arm this time. “You’re the one who fled here to run from your problems! It’s not MY fault the new school’s phones don’t reach all the way here!”
“I came here because they welcomed me here,” Grian corrects him. He’s holding onto Taurtis’ hand with one of his own, using the other to stretch out his collar from scratching against his neck. “I’m not- hey- going to apologize for- for saving myself from a bad- loosen up- situation with a bad person. It’s not my fault, and it’s not yours.”
He thinks he’s gotten through to Taurtis, even for a minute, because he drops to the ground and doesn’t feel like he has to breathe tight air now. Awful time to wear a sweater.
Before Taurtis can say anything, Grian goes first. He stands up, somehow able to find enough energy to step towards him, but Taurtis is the one who steps back now.
“I’m not going to let you get hurt while you’re here,” are the first words he says from the top of his head. They’re true, no matter if he’s able to stick to them or not. He’ll try. “Hermitcraft has been like a permanent safe haven to me for years, and it’s been like that for the others.” He tries to move forward again, Taurtis moving back. “Hate me as much as you want, Taurtis. I don’t blame you if you do. Just let me be here for you while you’re staying.”
Taurtis, who’s back to holding the spot Grian bit him, just stares. It takes a couple of seconds for him to say something, surprising the avian when he steps up. “Can I get a bandaid or something on this?” he asks, tapping his pinkie on the arm he’s holding. “You bite hard, man.”
Grian lets out a breath he won’t admit he’s been holding. He’s not too sure his little heart can handle another fight like this, even if it’ll get resolved or halfway there in the end. But he nods, offers a smile even. “Yeah, of course. I’ll take you to Mumbo’s base, which is a great place to start our tour.”
“Mumbo?” Taurtis repeats, trying the name out. “Mumbo, Mumbo, Mumbo... Your friend’s got a weird name, Grian.”
“And you’re surprisingly saying my name right!” Grian teases, grabbing Taurtis’ good hand and pulling him with a light tug along as he starts walking. “How’d you used to say it?”
“Um, lemme remember..” Taurtis’ face contorts to something that startles a laugh out of Grian when he glances back at him. The stupidly high-pitched voice he pulls makes it worse, especially on top of a horrible British accent. If anyone can even call it that. “Gree-ahn! Oh you British- er, British fool! Bloody idiot, you are!”
“That’s awful,” Grian complains, shaking his head as he swallows down more giggles.
He doesn’t know how they’ve gone from being at each other’s throats to this, but he tries not to think about it. They’re getting along now, and neither of them have killed each other, so they must be working it out somehow.
“Does this Mumbo-Mumbo guy have as good of an accent as I do?” Taurtis asks, still playing into the voice he’s trying to claim is British enough. He leans against Grian’s side, getting as close to his face as possible. “Hmmm? Does he, Gree-ahn?”
Grian gently swats his face away, snorting and surprising himself at how light he feels. “He’s definitely British, I’ll tell you that much. No idea what he’d think of your... Is, Taurtis, is that even British, what you’re doing?”
Taurtis clears his throat, coughing a few times into his arm, and returns to using his regular voice. Grian pretends not to miss the moment they’ve just had. “I mean, hey! I did my best, and at least it’s better than your American accent.” He lets out a gasp, which has Grian glance at him from the side, curious.
“What?”
“Do your friends here know how weird you were as a kid?”
Of all things I thought he’d say. That just has to be it, huh?
Grian blinks. Once, twice, and then he bumps against Taurtis. “Weird? I was put in the wrong year, so forgive me if I was kind of peeved!”
“You were soo territorial with your pocky, dude,” Taurtis comments, clicking his tongue. “You shared with Sam though.”
He can’t help wincing at the name. He thought they won’t have to bring him up a second time, especially now they seem to be on semi-friendlier terms, but he’s been there for all of their younger years. Grian shakes his head and tries to focus, keeping an eye out in case the mustached Hermit’s wandering around somewhere.
But it doesn’t stop memories from flooding back through the gates in his mind he worked hard to build up.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Sam’s on the ground, laying on his back and crying his little heart out. It’s only for dramatics, of course, because that’s how 5 year olds are. Everyone else who fell from the 3-story high building didn’t cry, just complained or moved on really, so Sam’s reaction is just an attention thing.
Despite knowing this, Grian sighs and gets out his box of unopened pocky. His parents gave it to him before he moved away, saying it’s “all they can afford to feed him” while he watched them eat two full meals of different kinds of meats he can’t name.
“Hold on,” he says, moving through the small crowd. And by ‘small crowd’, it’s really just him shouldering past Christina and Jamberite. Dom’s also there, but he’s laughing at the crying bunny boy and calling him a baby. “Everybody, move out the way.”
Taurtis moves off of his friend after failing to console him with the salty scent of his 2-turning-3-year-old fish friend, Mr. Fish, and allows Grian to come closer.
“Hey Sam,” Grian greets the other child, looking down at him from where his feet are.
“Yeah?” Sam sniffles, looking up with oddly real tears in his eyes. Grian notes they’re probably cheap teardrops or something, like what his mom uses to convince people to give her money. It may have worked on his dad, but it never worked on him when she tried.
“How about you eat some pocky?” Grian leans down to drop the box lightly onto Sam’s stomach, who immediately sits up and snatches it in his hands.
“Throw some pocky..” Taurtis’ voice is quieter, but Grian hears it. He just doesn’t pay attention to it.
“And you’ll feel a bit better,” Grian finishes. He steps away so Sam can get up with the box of sugary goodness. He hears his stomach growl, but he blames the school for not feeding the students. This is a sacrifice well-spent.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“He fell from a high height,” Grian recalls, shivering at the memory of himself having to fall that high - both the first drop, and the farther-down one. “And it was horrifying.”
It’s at this point he realizes Taurtis’ attention is elsewhere. He doesn’t say anything though, just watching his former friend gawk in awe at the plentiful of builds and machines scattered around them.
“It’s beautiful,” Taurtis says, once he catches Grian looking at him. Then he grins. “You know what else is beautiful?”
Grian turns away with a groan, rubbing his face with his free hand. “Don’t say it..”
“Me!” Taurtis chirps, raising the hand Grian’s been holding. Grian can tell he’s looking his way with a stupid grin, like the cheeky man he is. And Grian refuses to look at him. Which brings out that silly awful British(?) accent in that high voice. “Come ooon, Gree-ahn!”
“You’re the worst,” Grian tells him, feeling his cheeks reach his eyes. Even after all their years apart, Taurtis is still able to make him feel like nothing can go wrong.
And maybe nothing will. Just this once.