Chapter Text
Two figures, strangers to each other but united nonetheless to protect their friend, now slumbered in the eerie realm of death.
The Hermits weren’t used to death being a permanent thing, merely seeing it as an inconvenience, something that would set them back 5 minutes in their task. They played with it inconsequentially—a petty stake in many minigames.
The Hermits worked hard to recover Mumbo’s charred body. They approached the task with scepticism—lava tends to destroy all remains—but by some miracle (or by the grace of the one they call the Lady of Death, depending on what you believe), it remained in a suitable condition for burial.
Dream’s, however, had turned to ash. (Not that anyone cared about the horrid excuse of an admin).
A solemn funeral was conducted, the normally happy server of the Hermits turning monotone like it never had before. Grian hardly spoke, gaze still elsewhere, not quite in the present, his mind instead replaying earlier events on repeat like a gruesome movie. Xisuma never left the golden-haired boy’s side, hands itching to offer some physical comfort but refraining out of fear of triggering the younger.
Accompanied by the gentle disturbance of dirt and respectful murmurs, Mumbo and Tubbo resided in a long-awaited peaceful rest.
~~~
“Grian! Griiiaaan! Gri!”
Twang! An arrow thudded a few blocks from where Grian observed the front of his base, a large boulder affectionately named Dwayne.
“Hi, Scar!” He faced up to watch his friend, gliding around on metallic wings. Behind him, two other Hermits followed—Gem and Impulse. The trio landed and headed towards Grian.
Impulse started, “We just flew by the back of your base, and it is not even close to done. What—what are you waiting for, man? It’s not going to build itself!” He finished off with a chuckle.
Grian internally groaned, Oh no, they’re not doing-
“—an intervention.” Scar sighed, lightly kicking at Grian.
“But I don’t want to do iiiit!” Grian complained.
Scar gave a huff, “Look, Grian. You have got to do this, it’s giving the backside of the mansion energy– it’s giving season 7 energy!”
“Grian, I understand it’s a bit of a meme with you, but it’s gone a bit too far. Like, you can’t do this to every base you build.” Impulse grinned. “It’s about time you build the back of something.”
Grian opened his mouth to speak, “I-”
“Build it.” A hand settled on his shoulder as he heard the gentle voice of Gem.
He turned to meet the gentle green gaze of his friend, “But I don’t want toooo,” he grumbled.
“Grian, you have to,” Gem answered back, voice firm but still encouraging.
Impulse gently grabbed him by the wrist, “Hold my hand, we’re going over, mister. Let’s go.”
Behind them, Scar and Gem began to chant through laughter, “Build it! Build it!”
~~~
He had a reason for avoiding the back of his base.
Years ago, when the Hermits had made the change to season 7, the Hermits made a unanimous decision to have the graves of Mumbo and Tubboo follow them throughout seasons and world changes.
At first, the graves were located at spawn, a moment of hush permeating the excitement of starting a brand-new world. However, once Grian had submitted his selected plot of land and base blueprint, the graves somehow repositioned themselves to be settled in Grian’s backyard— the back of his base.
On most days, this was a blessing— it made visiting his fallen friends easy, something he could always do no matter how busy he was. On other days, he could barely look at the back, an overpowering sense of guilt, grief, and fear swallowing him at the mere glimpse of the headstones. These days he retreated to his bedroom, tucked under the covers, unable to do much but toss and turn and make excuses for his absence.
This phenomenon occurred across seasons, the presence of the reminder of what was lost making it difficult for him to spend extended periods of time near the back.
Now, in season 9, he surveyed the plain slate of the back of Dwayne, and as the cheers and shouts of Gem, Impulse, and Scar rang towards him, he cast a glance over his shoulder at the two polished andesite plaques reading Mumbo and Tubbo .
With another shuddering breath, he pulled some concrete out of his inventory.
One block at a time, the back would be closer to finished.
And with each block, he would continue to heal.