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A race to three skulls, that was all it was meant to be. Gem and False each needed another beacon, and adding an element of competition to the mix made facing off against the towering mobs a less daunting process. That wasn’t to say it was entirely enjoyable: wither skeletons still towered a metre taller than Gem, and the process of fighting them was exhausting and carefully calculated. To avoid being withered she needed to ensure she was constantly two steps ahead of the mob, to avoid being burned by blazes or shot by skeletons she needed to be vigilant of her surroundings. It was a tough endeavour, and one the pair had been at for several hours now. During that time, they’d both managed to collect two skulls, and that meant the next was crucial to winning.
Of course, at the end of the day, they’d both be rewarded with a new beacon (without giving Jevin any of their hard earned diamonds). This was just for bragging rights.
Bragging rights that False had just claimed.
“I’ve got it! Third skull! I win!”
The momentary voice coming from Gem’s communicator caught her off guard, causing her to jump where she stood. In the quiet that followed she reached for the device, pulling it from her side and pressing down on the button to let her talk directly to her friend.
“Congratulations, False. Are you heading back to the Overworld or are you going to stay and help me get my third skull?”
She waited for a reply, and one came swiftly.
“If it’s alright with you, I might go back home? I won’t be long, I just need to get some air and cool down, drop a few things off. My inventory is full to bursting and I could do with some more blaze rods.”
“That’s fine,” Gem said. “Let me know when you’re back in, stay safe!”
“You too, Gem.”
That was the last Gem heard from False before she fastened the device to her hip once again. Now it was just her, searching for the last skull, and hopefully it wouldn’t be long. Her sword had looting on it - it should help to preserve the bodies of the mobs she killed so that instead of them disappearing into a cloud of smoke, she could take the spoils from them. That said, the next four wither skeletons that appeared all met that exact fate.
Time seemed to pass slower now that she was the only one in the Nether. She wandered across the nether brick plateau that had been created by the Hermits, encouraging mobs to spawn for a more efficient killing process. A few blaze spawned - she took care of them from a distance and sipped on a fire resistance potion to buy her a few minutes where she didn’t have to care about them so much. After fighting for so long, she was growing weary, and any excuse to tune out her surroundings and take something that resembled a break was a good excuse. Her shoulders were numb, her arms were heavy, and her sword was becoming more and more of a burden to lift.
Really, she needed to head back home for a proper meal and a proper rest, but she wanted that last skull.
As she let out a breath and raised one hand to wipe a layer of sweat and soot from her forehead, Gem came to regret that she hadn’t left the Nether with False.
The unmistakable sound of bones rattling filled her ears, the loud footsteps of the much taller mob drew her attention, and as her hands reached back to her weapon she spun on her heels to see just how much time she had, to calculate the exact moment to swing and hit the wither skeleton. Except it was a lot closer than she thought - had it spawned nearby, or had she been so distracted by her exhaustion that she hadn’t heard it until it was too late?
However she had come to be in the situation she was - a wither skeleton barrelling down upon her with two more in tow - she needed to act. She needed to respond as it lifted its venomous weapon. She needed to do something as the stone blade came down, hitting her arm.
In the moment, fear had won out. Her mind had been paralysed as it chose between fight or flight. Now that she’d been hurt, flight well and truly took hold of her and she began to run.
While the roof of the Fortress had been disassembled and carefully spread out, there were still offshoots into netherrack that were two blocks high to allow for a hasty retreat to be made, and Gem made a beeline for one. The wither skeletons were too tall to enter, too stiff of a mob to be able to bend and make up the difference, and that safe haven was just a couple of steps away. Just a few strides, and then she could stop.
Gem skidded across the bricks, falling onto her backside in the relative safety of the corridor with a thud, letting out a quiet oof as she turned to look back over her shoulder. The three wither skeletons were, blessedly, stopped in their tracks. She was safe from any further attacks.
Now the question came: did she return to the Overworld one skull short, metaphorical tail hanging low between her legs, or did she finish the job? It wasn’t as if she had the tools to care for her injury here - a quick glance at her arm revealed a nasty gash that would certainly need a milk bath to remove the toxins from her body before too long, and a bandage to cover up the wound as it healed. She needed to return home to care for that, but could she really afford that now? All she needed was one final skull, it wouldn’t take that long, and then she could look after herself.
It was well into the Season, sure, but she was still one of the newbies on the Server. She couldn’t let people think she couldn’t handle herself against a couple of wither skeletons.
So with her decision made, Gem got back to her feet and ignored how her right arm felt more sluggish than before. She ignored how heavy it felt, how hard it was to lift her weapon, and instead just focused on fighting the three wither skeletons from the safety offered by the low-ceiling.
It took three more groups spawning before a wither skeleton died in a way that allowed her to retrieve its skull, and by the time it did she was utterly exhausted. Still, as she added the skull to her inventory, she knew she was finally done for the day. Done with the fighting, with the too-much heat and too-little humidity. Done with being in danger and done with anything that didn’t involve lying on a soft mattress in her home, the window open so she felt the cool breeze against her skin, a glass of sparkling apple juice and a nice meal (she reckoned she had some leftover quiche, that would go well with some fresh vegetables from her garden).
False hadn’t made it back to the Nether yet, and so Gem didn’t have to hide the injury on her arm as she returned. She was glad for that, not only because she didn’t want to burden her peers with the little scrape but because she didn’t want to look at it again. It wasn’t that she was particularly squeamish, just that this wound was particularly nasty. When she was home, when she had milk and bandages, she’d take another look at it, but for now she could do without worrying herself further.
The Nether portal on The Lump was a sight for sore eyes, the sun just beginning to set on the horizon, and Gem exchanged her chestplate for her elytra. Several rockets later she was landing on the doorstep of her starter base, letting herself inside and immediately taking in a deep breath.
She was safe, finally, and she began methodically stripping off the armour she didn’t need. Her boots and helmet came off first, hung on the armour stand by the door, followed by her leggings. The chestplate in her inventory was carefully hung, and finally she folded her elytra neatly and placed it atop a chest. She would put it in its proper place later, right now she needed to tend to the injury she still refused to look at.
Even without looking at it, she could feel that it had gotten worse in the short amount of time since it had been given to her.
Gem entered the small kitchen, taking a bucket of milk and a roll of bandages, before sitting herself at the table bathed by the warm glow of a lantern. As she placed her arm on the surface and rolled it so that her palm was flat against the wood and the wound was on display, she winced. In the Nether, it had been difficult to ascertain just how bad it had been. Now, even without proper daylight, she could see that it was worse than she thought.
For starters, the cut was still bleeding, and that was never a good sign. Wither skeletons only had stone swords - the damage they caused was more from the venom their weapons were tipped with - which meant that a cut so deep had been a particularly brutal hit. The skin that surrounded the puncture was bright red, sensitive and hot, with specks of black scattered. Gem chose to ignore those spots, allowing herself to believe that it was just soot. Just dirt. Something inconsequential, rather than something that needed to be dealt with.
First, she moved from the table to clean the wound with water. It stung, that much was a given, but she kept herself quiet. Nothing more than a few hisses between gritted teeth. She lived alone, her neighbours to the North (Doc and Ren) would likely be working on some strange science she didn’t understand, and Stress and False would be at home, too far away to be anywhere near her home as night was falling. Speaking of False, Gem should really message her to say that she was back in the Overworld.
As the water she washed her wound in began to run less red, Gem grabbed a towel to pat it dry without irritating it much more. From there it was easy to move back to the table, but less easy to plunge the arm into the bucket of milk. It never felt nice to do such a thing, but it was necessary. Not doing it would allow the toxin from the wither skeleton’s sword to get into her bloodstream and run rampage through her body, and that was hardly a nice way to go. Not that there was a nice way to die, but this wasn’t what she was hoping for.
She closed her eyes before lowering her arm into the bucket, feeling the cold liquid enveloping her arm and entering her wound. Gem let out a quiet groan, lowering her head to press her eyes against the healthy arm, before she became accustomed to the odd sensation.
Given how deep the wound was, and how long she’d left it without treatment, she elected to leave her arm in longer than would normally be advised. Surely, that would make up for the time that the toxin had without intervention? Surely that would make it all okay… She’d just bandage it up and change her wardrobe for a while - long sleeved shirts beneath her dungarees rather than the usual short sleeved variety she was known for. It would be fine, no one else would need to know about it. She was new, but she could handle herself.
She’d be fine.
To distract herself, Gem used her free hand to type out a quick message to False.
[Msg from ‘Me’ to ‘FalseSymmetry’] Home, safe, with my third skull. When are we fighting these things? I want my new beacon!
# # #
As the days passed, Gem was acutely aware of the fact that she was feeling worse.
She and False had fought their Withers the next day, each rewarded with a nether star, each able to make a new beacon. And Gem was glad they did it then, because it quickly became apparent that any later she would have struggled with fighting. It wasn’t as though it was impossible, but her right arm was obviously weaker than normal. Gem, mentally, put that down to the fact that the cut had been deep and needed time to heal. She told herself that whenever she changed the bandage and saw more dark patches on her skin. It was easier to think like that, easier to pretend that it would get better with time and wasn’t something that needed additional attention.
Gem couldn’t have additional attention without the Hermits thinking she was weak, and after they’d opened their arms to her so recently she couldn’t risk that. She wasn’t weak. She couldn’t be weak. She had to be strong, had to prove her worth, had to show that she deserved her place on the Server and that she hadn’t just been invited because her brother was here.
It just meant that she drank more milk than normal - having a glass with every meal, making sure to have some before she went to bed. It just meant that simple things took a little more effort. It just meant that all her beacons were modified to have regeneration on them as well as haste or jump boost. It was fine, completely fine, she could deal with it herself!
That’s why she’d developed a low fever that she couldn’t shake. It’s why her arm felt stiff, sluggish, and slow. It’s why her body felt heavy and why her breathing became more laboured even when she was resting. It was why instead of healing, the wound on her arm gradually became worse. The dark patches of skin became more prevalent and the dead flesh began to flake away. She knew, logically, that she was in danger. She was in trouble. But if she kept covering the wound with bandages then she didn’t have to look at it, and if she didn’t have to look at it then she was fine.
As fine as a frog in a slowly warming pot of water.
When Gem woke up, several weeks after the injury had been gained, she rolled over in her bed and scrunched her eyes tightly shut. Today felt like too much. She had things that needed building, but her arm was too sore. She had trees to cut down, but her shoulder ached too deeply to pick up a tool. She needed to do something, but she felt too ill to even move from her bed.
It was a problem that she couldn’t cover with a bandage and ignore, but one she could easily downplay if she worked hard enough at it. She could brush it off as a cold, as the flu, have someone bring her something to eat, something to drink, and take care of her for one day. Everyone did that now and again, that wasn’t a sign of weakness, that was just how their code worked. Getting a cold was nothing to be ashamed of, not being able to hold her own against a mob was.
Still, it wasn’t as if she was going to ask just anyone to come and help her. Everyone was busy, everyone had much more important things they needed to be doing than looking after her, and everyone didn’t need to know that she’d gotten sick. This was best kept between her and one other person.
[Msg from ‘Me’ to ‘Grian’] Grian, can you come over?
It was her first Season as a Hermit, and Gem had been careful not to interact with her brother too much before this point. She didn’t want people to think she was relying on him, but right now he was the perfect candidate.
[Msg from ‘Grian’ to ‘Me’] Of course! Who are we pranking?
Oh, that made her smile. Maybe when she was more certain of her place on the Server she would join forces with him and unleash a pranking spree like the world had never seen, but right now she had no plans to move from her bed, and pranking was far down the list of priorities.
[Msg from ‘Me’ to ‘Grian’] No pranks :( I’m sick
[Msg from ‘Grian’ to ‘Me’] I’m on my way!
The speed of the reply had Gem feeling much more at ease. Grian was coming, he’d take care of her for a day and then tomorrow she’d have to get back on her feet and find a way to power through. She tried not to think about the fact that everything had been gradually getting worse and that this was likely just an extension of it, that if she didn’t do something about the wound she would only get worse from here. Now wasn’t the time to think about that. Now was the time to close her eyes and await the comfort that would surely come in the form of her older brother helping her.
She’d almost fallen back to sleep when she heard the door of her bedroom opening - the fact that she hadn’t heard the spam of rockets or the ruckus Grian had caused as he’d landed was sign enough that she was far worse than she was admitting even to herself - but she eventually turned her head on her pillow and caught sight of the man before her.
Before Hermitcraft, it had been years since Gem had seen her brother. It still surprised her, every time she saw him, just how old he was. Not that he was old, more that the last time she’d seen him he’d practically been a child. She knew it was normal for people to spend less time with their families as they grew up, spread their wings and joined Servers of their own, but she’d always miss the years she could have spent with Grian.
“Oh, Gem, you look awful.” He commented, the usual joking tone to his voice missing as she felt a dip in her mattress. A hand came to her face, a hand that she leaned into desperately and made a quiet noise of need, something that only seemed to cause Grian’s brows to furrow deeper.
“You’re cold.” He told her, moving his thumb back and forth comfortingly against her cheek. “And pale. Has this been going on for long?”
Gem hummed, shrugging in response. She could talk if she really needed to, she was sure of it, but after weeks of taking care of herself while her condition slowly deteriorated her mind and body were both desperately ready for a break. If Grian was going to look after her, then she was going to take advantage of that as much as possible. Today, she had no intentions of doing anything.
“Alright, it’s okay.” Grian said softly. “I’m going to fetch you something to eat and something to drink. Do you think you can manage solids, or do you just want some soup? Nice and warm, easy on the throat if it’s sore?”
“Soup, please.” Gem answered, allowing herself to speak up enough to reply. “And, milk.” Grian might not think to bring milk, but she knew she needed it. Not having milk would only make things get worse far faster.
“And milk.” Grian nodded. “Are you alright if I leave you here for a few minutes while I fetch everything? Close your eyes, sleep if you need to, I’ll be back.”
Gem’s answer came in the form of her settling back against her pillows, her arms beneath her blankets coming up toward her face to tug the soft fabric tighter around her. She felt Grian moving away from her, heard his footsteps walk away, and let herself drift between conscious and unconscious before she smelled the familiar, wonderfully rich scent of vegetable soup approaching. It had her salivating, licking her lips, and as she heard the bowl being placed beside her she opened up her eyes once more.
“Still with us?” Grian asked, offering her a small smile. “Come on, let’s get you sitting up. You can have this, then you can sleep.”
His hands found their way under Gem’s arms, tucking themselves beneath her shoulders and pulling her upright. Gem didn’t think as the blankets fell from her, pooling at her waist as she leaned the majority of her weight against the wall. She didn’t think about the fact that, in her pyjamas, the bandages of her arm were exposed. She didn’t think about the fact that evidence of her injury was now on perfect display from Grian.
To his credit, though, he said nothing as he helped her with the first few spoonfuls of food.
“Feels like the old days.” Grian laughed to himself, a hint of sadness and nostalgia behind his eyes. “You always were the more reckless one.”
“Your pranks were rubbish.” Gem said softly, smiling back through the haze of her brain. “Just you wait, once I start pranking this Server…”
“My pranks were amazing, they still are!”
“You just throw eggs at Mumbo.”
“No, Poultry Man throws eggs at Mumbo, and he’s retired.”
Gem giggled, another spoonful of warm soup being delivered to her.
“Do you want me to change your bandages before you sleep, or while you sleep?” Grian asked, and the laughter disappeared in an instant, her smile following not long after. “You think I’m going to ignore that? No chance. I’m not going to pry into what you’ve been getting up to, but I’m not going to leave an old dressing on just because you’re not feeling up to changing it yourself.”
“It’s fine.” Gem replied. “It doesn’t need changing.”
“And I’m the redstone master of the Server. Tell me where your supplies are or I’m going to head home and grab my own.”
Gem shifted, staring at the spoon being offered to her, then looking back to Grian. He was concerned, of course he was concerned, but she was worried what would happen if she admitted to the injury she’d been concealing. It was bad, she knew that, and she’d been the one getting gradually used to it. Someone seeing it in this state for the first time would panic.
“Do you promise not to be cross?”
“Gem…” Grian sighed. “I’m never going to be upset with you for getting hurt. Accidents happen. Let me look after it today, and I won’t bring it up again.”
Gem swallowed, nodding slightly, before accepting the spoonful of soup.
“Thank you. Finish this first, then let me know where everything is.”
The rest of the soup was eaten in a quiet, stilted manner. Grian might not have thought anything of it, but Gem certainly was. She was panicking inwardly about how he’d react, panicking about what he might say, what he might need to do. When she’d been ignoring it and hoping it would get better she knew she was dooming herself in the long run. She knew she’d been making it worse by avoiding it but what other choice did she have? Reaching out and telling someone? Admitting that she couldn’t deal with it alone?
And now Grian was going to see something awful, was most likely going to have to do something extreme?
“Not hungry anymore?” Grian asked, pulling Gem from her thoughts. He’d been holding out a spoonful of soup for goodness only knew how long, but she couldn’t bear to eat it. She felt sick with anxiety, and so she shook her head. “Don’t worry, you can have more later if you’re feeling up to it. How about we get those bandages changed now?”
“You don’t need to.” She said quietly, a last ditch attempt to buy herself more time from others finding out just how bad she’d let it get.
In buying herself more time, she knew she’d only be making it worse, and Grian - thankfully - was having none of it.
“I do. Come on Gemini, where are your bandages?”
Save from clambering out the window, there was nothing that Gem could do to stop Grian from seeing now. With no small amount of anxiety she let her shoulders fall and took in a breath.
“In the kitchen, under the sink. There’s a barrel full.”
Grian nodded, leaving with the half eaten bowl of soup, and Gem was left alone. Maybe if she closed her eyes she could fall asleep and everything could happen without her being conscious. Maybe she didn’t have to be awake for the fear in Grian’s eyes, or the confirmation that the toxins were spreading through her body, or the fact that her arm was well and truly withered. These were all things she reasonably knew, but in continuing to bandage the wound, in drinking milk, in pretending she was okay, she’d managed to avoid acknowledging any of it.
She was going to have to face reality now, and she truly didn’t want to.
When her brother returned, Gem watched him quietly and closely. She watched as he grabbed hold of her hand, his thumb carefully tracing over the lines of her palm as his other hand began to unwrap the fabric that covered the wound. She recognised the symbols he traced over her palm instinctively, the same shapes their parents had done so long ago, and she brought her legs up to her chest at that moment. Leaning her head against her knees, she felt herself beginning to tear up.
“Am I going too fast?” Grian asked, pausing as soon as he noticed. “I’ll try to be more gentle, and I can see if anyone has something for the pain if it’s that bad.”
Void, if only he knew what he was going to see when the bandages were gone…
He moved more slowly, though. He was more conscious of any sharp movements, clearly not wanting to hurt her any further, but Gem knew it was pointless. She knew that her pain was of little consequence given the state her arm was in. She wondered if it was too late, if Grian was going to have to give her the worst news of all, if she’d hidden it too well and was living on borrowed time.
She let out a sob, and Grian’s head snapped back up to look at her again.
“You’re okay.” He said comfortingly. “You’re alright, I promise. I’m here, nothing bad will ever happen to you in my care.”
Another sob left her, and Grian pulled away the last of the bandages.
At first, Gem closed her eyes and turned her head toward her legs. She couldn’t look at him, or her arm, and if she closed her eyes maybe she could pretend for a little bit longer that it wasn’t real.
But even with her eyes closed she felt Grian’s hand hold hers tighter, felt their fingers slot together. Even with her eyes closed she could hear his voice, shaking and full of fear.
“Gem?” He asked, his own pain poorly masked. “Gem, how long have you had this wound?”
She shook her head, sniffling, not wanting to answer him. If she didn’t answer it wasn’t real, it wasn’t real, it wasn’t real.
“Gem--”
“About a month.” She replied, and his grip on her tightened even further.
“You’ve been hiding this for a month?” He asked. She nodded. “How did it even get this bad?”
“I didn’t realise the cut was that deep in the Nether.” She admitted, taking in a sharp breath and finally allowing herself to open her eyes and look at Grian. His own eyes were wide and full of panic, his face full of a multitude of different expressions as the gears in his mind turned. She couldn’t tell if he was trying to think of a solution, or if he thought a solution would be too hard to come by at this point. “I cleaned it as soon as I came home, I gave it a milk bath, but I must have left it too long. A few pockets of the toxin must have already settled.”
“Gem…” Grian breathed, his voice softer this time, and she looked away from him once more. Looking at him only left her seeing the pained, confused face of her brother as he searched for a way to fix things only for his mind to come up empty, and she couldn’t look at him when he looked like that.
“I’m sorry.” She said quietly. “I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have asked you to come here.”
“No, no, Gem.” Grian’s voice was firm. “You should. You should have asked for help sooner.”
“And have everyone think I can’t handle a couple of wither skeletons?” She asked, laughing, but Grian’s face was stern.
“No one would have thought that… Gem, this is killing you!”
That left her quiet, unable to joke her way out of the pit that grew in her stomach. She’d been pretending for so long, avoiding the inevitable in her mind for so long, that she’d almost accepted her fate when it was silent. When it was spoken aloud, by someone who cared so much for her, it seemed impossible to do so anymore.
It was killing her.
She was going to die if she let it go untreated.
Hell, there was a chance that it was too late to treat.
“I need to call Xisuma.”
“No!”
“Gem, this isn’t up for debate. I can’t fix this!”
“I don’t want him to send me away!”
“No one is going to send you away, Gem! No one is going to make you leave!” Grian said, his voice on the brink of yelling. His tone wasn’t angry, he wasn’t cross with her even if something in the back of her mind told her that was why he was shouting, he was scared. “Gem, I don’t know how to fix something like this. This is serious, and I won’t lose you just because you don’t want to ask for help. We can talk about why you feel like that after, but right now… Right now I need to call Xisuma, I need him to help figure out what we do next so that you don’t die, I need to do whatever I can to keep you safe.”
She swallowed, staying quiet, knowing there was nothing she could do or say to change Grian’s mind or make things better in that moment. The voices in her head telling her that she’d angered him still continued, though the fact that he refused to let go of her hand as he typed out a message on his communicator with the other hand was a small reminder that he didn’t.
“X will be here soon.” He said, Gem finally daring to make eye contact with him again. “Gem… I don’t know what to say.”
“I’m sorry.” She whispered, and he shook his head.
“I don’t want you to be sorry. I’m sorry. Whatever it is that I or anyone else has done to make you feel like you can’t raise an issue like this…”
“No one’s done anything.” Gem told him. “Really, I promise. Everyone’s been lovely, no one’s said anything, I just…” She trailed off, talking for such a long period of time was difficult and she needed to swallow more air to continue. “I wanted to prove I was good enough to be here. I don’t want to be here just because I’m your sister.”
“Do you really think that’s why you were invited?” Grian asked, and Gem shrugged in response. “No one sees you as Grian’s sister. They see you as Gem. They wanted you here because of your amazing builds, because of your skills and talents. It has nothing to do with being related to me. You don’t have to prove yourself, you proved yourself long before you were asked to join us. No one would have thought of you as lesser for needing help with this, or with anything else.”
“Are you sure?” She asked, and Grian looked at her with sad eyes, nodding.
“I promise.” He told her. “Blimey, Gem, you’ve gone a month with your body withering away without telling anyone. If anything, people are going to start referring to me as Gem’s brother.” He teased, and she smiled at that. Just a little. “You’re stronger than anyone else I know, so just… Let us help you. Please. Because I’m not strong enough to watch my little sister wither away.”
There was a smile on his face even as his eyes filled with unshed tears, and she nodded her head. She could let people in, she could let them help. If she knew she wouldn’t be thought of as lesser, if she knew she wasn’t going to be sent away… She could let them help.
The next few minutes passed slowly. Neither Gem nor Grian spoke - Gem thoroughly exhausted and Grian focusing his attention on responding to messages on his communicator. She assumed they were messages to Xisuma, that their admin would soon be en route to her home, and she was proved right when she heard another set of footsteps walking up her stairs to her bedroom.
“Knock knock,” came the friendly voice of Xisuma, the door creaking open and his helmeted head poking through the gap. “How are you doing, Gem?”
Gem didn’t say anything at first, wondering if there was a proper answer to Xisuma’s question. Even knowing that no one was going to send her away, she wanted to say that she was fine. She almost did say that she was, though she was aware of the withered arm on display. Even as a formality, Xisuma wouldn’t buy it.
“Tired.” She admitted. “Scared.” Grian’s hand held hers tighter.
“It’s perfectly understandable.” Xisuma said, stepping into her bedroom fully and crouching himself down beside her. “Do you want to talk about this first, or would you prefer me to focus on the practical side of things?”
“Practical.” She replied, and Xisuma nodded. Rather than speak, his attention was fully on her arm. He typed away on his own communicator device, lifting it above her arm as if he was doing something with it. Gem had never been an admin, she wasn’t sure how such a role functioned or what extra privileges Xisuma had as a result of it. He could be reading her code, or re-writing it, as far as she knew. Maybe he was taking pictures of her arm to figure out what stage of withering it was in, maybe he was searching for solutions on some magical web of information that only admins had access to.
The thought kept her mind busy while Xisuma worked, and it kept her from thinking about what could have happened if she had kept the wound hidden any longer. The skin of her arm was almost completely blackened, almost completely dead, and beginning to flake off in most places. There was no way that she would have managed much longer on her own.
But that wasn’t worth thinking about. Not now. Because Grian was here, holding her hand comfortingly. And Xisuma was here, finding a solution. And everything would be okay, it would be just fine, it would--
“Alright, I’ve got good news and bad news.” Xisuma said. “Which would you rather have first?”
“The bad news.” Gem said, her breath immediately hitching in her throat afterward as she summoned all her available strength to cling to her brother. If there was good news too, then she wasn’t about to die. If she was on her deathbed there would be no good news, and so whatever the bad news was, she could take it.
“Okay.” Xisuma began, turning to face her, the eyes behind his visor finding hers. “So, the bad news… The toxins have almost completely withered what’s in your arm. The blood vessels closest to the surface have been completely killed, that’s why the skin is dead and is peeling away. The bone is almost bone, the nerves are too. I don’t know how you’re managing to move your fingers as much as you have been, but any movement you have is going to rapidly vanish over the next day or so at the rate this is going.”
Gem nodded. As far as bad news went, that was fairly bad.
“The good news is, the pockets of toxins haven’t spread far beyond your elbow. Beyond your shoulder, there’s only a few traces of the toxins themselves and no pockets of venom. The rest of your body is healthy. It’s struggling to try and make up for the damage to your arm, but it’s nothing it can’t bounce back from.”
That was, all things considered, good news. She smiled ever so slightly, finding comfort in the fact that she would be okay. If Grian hadn’t been there, that might have been the end of the conversation. But he was, and so he piped up with a question.
“So what happens next?” He asked. “How do we fix it?”
“From what I can see, there’s only one surefire way to fix this.” Xisuma began, and Gem’s smile faded. She was going to be provided with the illusion of choice, she could tell, but if there was only one way to guarantee that she would survive this…
“I would recommend amputation. Several people on the server have prosthetic limbs, so if you decide to go down this path you’ll be well supported. Doc is more or less the resident expert on customised prosthetics, I’m sure he’d be more than happy to meet with you after any procedure to discuss something more personalised. TFC, Iskall, and Ren are all intimately familiar with the struggles and the changes that come with an amputation, and I’m sure that all of them would be willing to talk to you about it. Of course, everyone will be here to support you, but they might be able to offer more practical solutions. I’d recommend amputation at the shoulder, just to eliminate the chances of any flare ups in the future from the small dormant pockets in your bicep. There’s no guarantee that they will ever become an issue, if you’d rather have an amputation at the elbow, but it does mean you’ll need to be closely monitored.”
Gem nodded, taking in a deep breath as her mind processed everything Xisuma said.
“Theoretically, you could try to medicate. I’m not sure how well that would work, or if it even is an option for you, but if you were completely against amputation we could look into it together.”
“No, it’s fine.” Gem said. “I’m okay with amputation. Shoulder, if you think it’s best.”
“You don’t have to make this decision now.” Xisuma told her. “Soon, yes, but if you don’t feel informed you can take a few hours to think about it. I’m more than happy to leave any information you might want to read.”
“I trust you.” She replied. “I’m okay with an amputation. Just… Let me fall asleep first?”
“Oh, goodness, Gem!” Xisuma exclaimed. “This is a delicate procedure. I appreciate the faith you have in the Hermits, but this is the sort of thing a professional should do. If you want to get some rest now I can get in touch with an off-Server physician I know who specialises in this sort of thing. I can arrange for an emergency appointment and we can have you there in a couple of hours. I can come with you, or Grian, or anyone else you’d like, but I wouldn’t want to risk any of us making this worse.”
Gem hesitated, looking at Xisuma with sadness in her eyes.
“Will I be allowed to come back?”
Xisuma looked to Grian, and Gem caught her brother mouthing ‘we’ll talk later’ to him silently, before the admin returned his attention to her.
“You’re part of our family now, Gem. Of course you’ll be allowed to come back. We’d hate to lose you. If it would make you more comfortable I can see about getting someone here to operate?” He suggested, and Gem’s eyes lit up. If she could stay here there would be no chance of her being left alone. If she never left the Server, they wouldn’t be able to block her from coming back. Even if they were reassuring her that they wouldn’t do such a thing, it would be a comfort. She nodded.
“If it’s no trouble…”
“None at all. You’re the most important person in this situation, Gem. Whatever I can do to make it easier, I will. I can’t guarantee that I can make this happen, but I can certainly ask for you. Close your eyes, rest, Grian and I will stay here while I organise this for you. You’re safe with us, I promise.”
And with that promise given, Gem closed her eyes and sunk back into her bed once again. Sleep came easily knowing that everything was going to be okay, and the next time she awoke it was with a stranger standing beside her, with complicated medical terms being explained and the risks and benefits of a surgery being clearly outlined. She was asked to sign a form - something she found herself only able to do with her left arm - and she was being given enough turtle master to send her to sleep.
The next time she awoke - or at least, the next time she was aware she was awake - there was no arm on the right side of her body. It was dark outside, moonlight pouring in from the small gap in the curtain that covered her window, but she wasn’t alone. Gem could make out the faint outline of her brother fast asleep beside her. Part of her wanted to reach out and wake him up, but instead she felt her body pulling her to sleep once more.
When she was finally awake enough to interact with the world, she felt better. Better than she had done in weeks. Even if she had an awfully long road ahead of her to be fully healed and rehabilitated, even if it would take a lot of work to be able to interact with the world how she was used to, the worst part was over.
She’d survived. And if the dozens of messages she’d received from other Hermits were any indication, they weren’t going to get rid of her for this. If the fact that Grian refused to leave her side even for a minute was any indication, he wouldn’t be letting them.
Maybe she deserved her place on this Server after all.