Chapter Text
Mumbo felt like cotton was in his brain when he started to wake up. Everything felt so wrong, and the last thing he remembers is setting the avians free. Oh, he got caught, didn’t he? Oh, this was really bad, so awfully bad. His chest felt heavy, and it felt like someone was sitting on him now. He went to open his eyes, and everything was too bright. He quickly closed his eyes and tried to focus on the other things. He was on a bed; it was fairly soft, but the blanket on top of him was itchy. He wasn’t wearing his tie, though the familiar weight was not there. He also did not have shoes on.
He could hear something or someone moving around the room. He supposed they were just waiting for him to wake up before the atrocities started, or maybe he just couldn’t remember them. He heard the faint sound of a potion bubbling. He then heard a door slam somewhere else. He went to try and open his eyes again, but slower this time. This time, while the light was still too bright, he could look around.
The room was small, with a window that held a flower box. It had a variety of blooming flowers that were colorful. He was lying on what seemed to be a medical bed. It looked like the potion brewing was regen. The door was still closed, but there was a sound outside of it. There were fresh flowers on the bedside that also held half-empty bottles of potions. Who would bring flowers to a dead man? Unless it was some sick, twisted irony to make him feel worse.
The door started to creak back open, and every ounce of panic he had ever felt seemed to combine in that moment. The person, or hybrid, that came in had white hair and ears and was wearing a mask. He was already dead, wasn’t he? Yeah, he was already dead.
"Hey, I know you’re probably still in shock and everything, but some people have questions. If you’re not up to it, though, I’ll tell them, and as your doctor, they have to listen to me. Oh, and I’m Etho.” The fox hybrid said with a hint of what seemed to be teasing. Mumbo wasn’t sure he’d been told by many people he was horrible at telling emotions.
“I uh don’t really feel like talking to anyone right now, but if you don’t mind me asking, where am I? Oh, and my name is Mumbo!” He honestly just felt very confused. Why was this fox hybrid being nice to him when, if given the opportunity, Mumbo would have hunted him down because he’s a monster like that.
“You’re in the hermitcraft lands, thanks to your avian friend. She’s a spitfire, for sure. How did you three meet anyway? It’s kind of odd if I’m being honest, and those two aren’t giving anything away.” Etho said, his tail flicking with what seemed to be frustration. He really hoped he wasn’t stressing out anyone; he wasn’t even supposed to be here in the first place.
"I-uh, well, we met in pretty bad circumstances.” He was genuinely uncertain about how to describe their meeting. He’s the reason they were in bad shape. He truly couldn’t understand why they’d bring him with them, especially if what Etho was saying was true.
Hermitcraft was known as a near-mythical sanctuary for hybrids. A place where they can be themselves without worry or care. Mumbo had all but come to the conclusion that it didn’t exist, his reasoning being that it was rumored to have voidwalkers and ancient cryptids older than the mountains. If this Etho was to be believed, he was in serious danger. The stories of what the hermits did to those who hurt hybrids were truly terrifying, but honestly, he would deserve it, and he knew that.
“Hey there, don’t go overthinking things already. If it’s too much to talk about yet, I’ll tell them all to leave you alone.” Etho said, putting things on a shelf and looking over at Mumbo, who realized he hadn’t given an answer yet.
“Why?” He said, looking at the fox hybrid, he was just stunned.
“Why what?” He said, looking at him like he’d asked a truly ridiculous question.
“Why are you helping me? Asking me if something’s okay. I’m a human, and my kind has hurt so many of yours. Why didn’t you just kill me? While I couldn’t hurt you.” Mumbo questioned the other, who, in his opinion, was being quite ridiculous right now.
"Mumbo, we fight fair here, and you were injured so badly that if we wanted you dead, we would have just done nothing. I’ll admit some didn’t want to help you, but the majority said to give you a chance. We want to be better than those who hurt us, and giving you a second chance is more than many ever got to even ask for. We are helping you because, honestly, it’s the right thing to do.” Etho wasn’t putting anything on the shelves anymore, just staring at his own hands.
“I want to help in any way I can. I’ve assisted in things that were horrific; I’ll never be forgiven for that, and I don’t want to be. The least I can do is help you when I would have expected you to kill me.” The part about him deserving death goes unsaid. Mumbo knows he should be long dead, but no one needs to know that.
“Right now, the most helpful thing to do is to heal and get stronger. Don’t worry about debts that need to be repaid, yet it won’t help much to dwell on those things.” Etho said, looking over at him again, almost studying the way his face looked and how he acted.
Mumbo looked out the window for a moment and asked the void what he had done to deserve such kindness from a stranger. Strangers that he could have hurt none the less. He didn’t deserve this; he deserved pain and suffering, not this. Not the kindness they gave him so willingly. Not with what he has done to so many like them.
“I’m going to leave for a bit to give you some time to adjust. If you need me, we left you an extra comm in that desk beside you. My contact’s at the top. Just shoot a text or call and I’ll come back.” Etho said, closing the door. Mumbo heard the distinct click of a lock as he was left alone.
Mumbo sighed, leaning back. What was he to do? He was a prisoner being treated like a guest. It was strange and so unlike what he was used to. He wished they’d just scream and kick or punish; at least he knows what to do with that. Kindness toward someone who has hurt those you care for was completely foreign and strange. So he closed his eyes to try and sleep again because dwelling on the issue seemed like a lot more energy than he had right now.