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Grian picked up his communicator to check for- he didn’t know. Anything at this point. How many minutes it had been since he last checked. Anyone else still awake. Anything at all. With a sigh he set it back down on his bedside table and rolled over to face the wall, snuggling his way into the bedsheets and closing his eyes to try and sleep.
It lasted about a minute before his eyes were open again, and he sighed to himself again. He sat up, looking around his dark bedroom for ideas on what he could do. If he wasn’t going to be able to sleep, he could at least do something useful.
Draw up blueprints for the new building in midnight alley? Gather resources to build with? Mine for diamonds? Restock the G-train? Everything seemed tiring, and the weight of the night was already strong against his bones.
He decided he needed to clear his head, set free whatever thoughts were keeping him up - he’d had so many he’d already forgotten most of them. He got up, wrapped a blanket over his shoulders and put on his socks and shoes.
The next time he was really aware of his surroundings, he was stood at the base of Treesa, staring up at the bus. The lights were off; Mumbo was almost definitely asleep. It was late, it only made sense, and it seemed unfair to Mumbo for Grian to wake him up just because he was having trouble sleeping. He kept walking.
Now he was stood at the boatem hole, looking down into the emptiness below that radiated cold. Not a good idea. He kept walking.
He was past Scar’s waggons, on the road past Cub’s canyon. It was pretty at night out here in the woods, though cold. He curled his blanket around him and kept walking.
Grian continued walking, past the big eye crew, through the swamp and the dark oak forest til he was at the base of the savannah. He didn’t really recall getting there, but he couldn’t bring himself to worry about it. Funnily, there were lights on the mountain top. And what looked like movement - probably just mobs. The movement seemed too purposeful for that though, and carried light with it… Grian spread his wings, and flew up to the plateaus where Etho and Iskall were making base.
“Grian?”
He startled at the voice from behind him and turned, wings spread ready to fly away from danger. He relaxed when he saw Etho, holding a torch and a pick.
“What are you doing here?”
“Uh, I… I don’t know, really. Uhm… out for a wander?”
“Wouldn’t expect to see you out this far. Everything okay?”
“Yeah, I’m - what are you doing?” Grian asked, realising Etho was carrying a bunch of supplies on him and holding a pick that was recently used.
“Huh? Oh, I’ve been making a few farms about the place. Why?”
“You realise it’s half two in the morning, right?”
“Is it? Oh. Why aren’t you asleep?”
“…Couldn’t sleep. Why are you up?”
“Uh… working.”
“…Right.”
“Do you…need anything, or…?” Etho questioned, half-stepping as if to leave.
“Uhm. No, no I’m ok I think. What were we talking about?”
“…I think you should really try to sleep. C’mon, we have a spare bed in the storage room you can have for the night.” Etho told him, swapping his pick for his trident.
“No it’s fine, I can go back to the mansion-“
“Grian… The mansion was on the old world. We’re on season 8 now.”
“Right. Yeah, I know. I’m… I’ll follow you.”
Etho hummed and led Grian up to their storage room, setting up the spare bed under the tree. “Might be a little cold up here for ya. Just don’t go snooping in the chests okay?”
“Yeah…” Grian muttered, crawling onto the bed and wrapping his feathery wings around himself. Etho left him to sleep, and sleep he finally did.