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The moon poured in through the stained-glass windows of the Castle, pooling on the office desk in scattered, wavering flashes of blue and pale yellow. Surrounded by artefacts of memory from the last two years, Scar leaned back into the plush cyan armchair, one hand on the armrest, the other occupied with his sleeve. He rubbed it back and forth between his fingers in a steady, soothing motion.
The speakers had announced the closing of the park for the day, to be reopened when the sun crested the Scarland Entrance in the wake of thousands gathered for the Great Reopening tomorrow. Scar wouldn’t be there to see it.
Still, he was confident — if a little sentimental — that the following day would mark a new era for Hermitcraft citizens. It was, after all, an amusement park designed for their entertainment. All the time spent blueprinting, designing, mapping, trading, gathering resources, scaffolding, you name it! Ultimately, though, it had been for himself. Ultimately, Scarland had fulfilled something in his heart that had been waiting for a very long time.
Across from him, through the main design window, he could see the park laid out in all its lamplit glory, twinkling with charm where tidbits and trinkets moved, breathing life into the park even through the night. As intended. As had been his dream.
Scar brought his hands to his lap, running his palms together with a glance to his left. Jellie was loafing peacefully, nuzzling against an ostentatiously large Scarland VIP ticket. It scratched under her jaw just right.
“Are you enjoying that, Jellie?” Scar chuckled, a fuller smile breaking his face. She didn’t open her eyes to acknowledge him but Scar leaned in all the same to stroke down her back to her tail, where she rose. She then blinked at him, squinting thoughtfully. “Oh, I’m sorry for disturbing you,” he added with not a strong hint of remorse.
Jellie stretched her paws out across the desk, then meowed with a drawl.
Scar grimaced mildly.
“Yeah, I think you’re right,” he sighed. His hand reached her back again and scratched a little between her shoulders. “I’ve been sitting here for…a while.” He reached for his cane and stood, moving around his desk. His fingers trailed over the spruce, catching on the small things laid out here and there. In his pocket, his communicator buzzed and he inhaled deeply.
Jellie stretched once again, then dropped down to follow him, tail trailing around his cane.
“It’s just hard to say goodbye to a place like this,” Scar mused, reaching the window. “To everything.” His office was placed at the top of the central Castle structure, aligned down to the inch with the middle path running through the entirety of Scarland. He remembered being so meticulous to measure it right, if not a bit pedantic to make even the surrounding area match his vision. He was grateful for the other Hermits’ patience with his expectations.
The final product turned out to be, as far as he’d been able to get, exactly as he’d imagined it; the Castle piercing through the clouds and grazing the sky, Main Street structured to pave the line of sight towards the most significant landmarks, and bustling fervour flashing in every window.
Some things, he thought as he made his way down flights of stairs, were left unfinished. His grip on the Jellie-head cane stiffened slightly and the namesake tabby at his feet meowed. Somehow, she always felt a mood change.
“What are you thinking, Jellie?” Scar cast a glance at her as he descended with a hand running over a spiralling rail. “Do you like how it turned out?” And there was something — a hint of vulnerability, really, in the way he said it. Something like anxiety, something like exhilaration. Jellie quivered her tail as she continued down, then paused at the end and cast her gaze upwards.
And it was crazy — she was a cat, and the way her nose sent her whiskers twitching curiously was a gesture that sent his heart warming with calm instantly, as it always did — but Scar could see the ineffable wisdom sheening off those squinted eyes. Like the first rain since dry season, or warm gloves on frostbitten hands, Jellie was a placating presence that healed and healed. Like a pink nose pressing against a hand in solace when he kneeled. Somehow, he could feel she did it all knowingly.
Now, was Jellie the cuddliest cat on Hermitcraft, he couldn’t necessarily agree, but when he reached for her and brought her to his chest, she went obediently limp and purred into his collar.
“Do you like it?” Scar murmured again.
A slight trill from her.
“Thank you very much, Jellie,” he said, almost matter-of-fact. “Will…will they like it?”
And she began to purr.
“Yeah?” She turned her head with the motion of him scratching behind her ears. “We can always visit. It’s not the end. We’ll always visit if we feel like it, won’t we?”
Scarland twinkled before them. The following night, as according to schedule, it will be glowing with his creation and the eyes of awed thousands.
“Goodbye isn’t forever! We’ll find some time in between everything else to come back here,” he said, almost to himself. “I mean, we’re gonna be busy business partners, you and I, but… yeah.” The statues of the Imagineer GoodTimesWithScar and Queen Jellie were erected facing away, waving towards Main Street with jubilation. Frozen in a picture of welcoming and mirth. “Yeah.”
This was more difficult than he’d thought it would be.
“Good…” he paused. Scar pinched his lip with teeth and his sole began to tap fervently on the polished granite below.
“Goodnight, Scarland.”
Then Jellie began to squirm in his arms and he let her hop down. He patted himself down, grey hairs wafting off his suit.
“Do I look ready? All ready to go?” Scar extended his hands and turned in a slow circle, letting Jellie take in his common explorer’s attire. The worn blue uniform and helmet were gone, mounted in his office, replaced by familiar yellowed cotton and a brown blazer. As well, he had a pack strapped over his shoulders, items of necessity brought for the journey ahead. She blinked at him amicably, seemingly pleased, then turned to lead the way.
Scar, summoning his strength, tore himself from the Castle bridge and followed.
He remembered papercuts and fresh calluses as he treaded past the designer buildings; he remembered the smell of fertile marine soil and cobwebs as he passed the lush flowerbeds; he remembered the times spent laughing with Pearl, with Impulse, with Grian, as he continued past the Backstage exits, past the automated Entrance stations, past the ring of arcane stone marking the threshold to Scarland.
Everything else became a blur of memories through saline as Scar walked and walked in the wake of Jellie’s path, his cane a comforting constant at his hip.
Finally, at some point, they reached a grassland far enough away that Scar couldn’t recall much from the place and he could take a moment to draw his sleeve across his face.
“Ah,” he eked out, a plaintive sound. “Phew. So, um. Is this where…”
Scar spun around slowly and thought. He could see traces of former activity, tall grass stamped down and gaps where shulker boxes of last-moment discarded items had been left abandoned. With no Hermit in sight, and his communicator having buzzed multiple times through the trip, Scar could assume he was the last one to leave.
“Yeah,” he sighed. Inhaled deeply. “So, again… I suppose you have places to be.”
He turned to look down at Jellie, already sitting primly with her tail coiled over her paws and moonlight glimmering in her fur, and his arms crossed over his chest tightly.
“Xisuma’s got a place for you guys to stay while he finds a new seed, yeah?”
Jellie gazed at him patiently.
“And he remembers your favourite snacks?”
Her nose scrunched a little, whiskers twitching.
“And he’ll drop you off at the village? Promise me he’ll drop you off, don’t you dare go trying to look for one yourself!”
She blinked at him slowly, and Scar brought his arms higher over his chest. He frowned with dismay.
“He’ll keep you safe,” he sighed, an ache in his chest. “I wish you didn’t have to go. I always say it, I know I do, but…,” and he dragged his gaze away from her. “I wish you could come with me, instead. It’d be easier for everyone. And… I’d like it very much.”
Jellie mewed gently, rising, and Scar looked back towards her. If ever he’d try to convince someone cats could smile, now would be the time. She beamed up at him with her tail poised confidently behind her, and he couldn’t help but feel a little bit of that courage himself.
“You’ll be safe, won’t you, girl?” he chuckled lightly, holding back from falling to his knees. “I’ll see you soon. I’ll– I’ll see you next season, yeah? I promise I’ll go looking as soon as possible, I’ll find you.”
She opened her mouth with a quiet trill, eyes saying something like we’ll see each other again and we always do and I won’t be long, I promise. I love you. I love you. I love you.
And then she slowly turned, nuzzled through the weeds, and slipped into the dark green between them.
Scar was left standing, eyes focused where her tail had vanished in a quick flash, as if she’d come back, as if she’d turn around and leap back into his arms and purr into his neck with an apology, that it was just a joke, that this time she’d make an exception, that this time she’d be there with him.
That didn’t happen, and he knew her well enough to know that prying his gaze away, stepping forward and cutting through the grasses, taking that next step forward alone, was the right thing to do.
Somewhere, Jellie bounded through fragrant grass and leaped into hands that kept her warm. She curled up on a humming box with metal rods and purred to herself happily. She jumped after snacks scattered on the floor and chewed on them with a rumble in her throat. When the time came, the same hands scratched her behind the ears, picked her up in a mewling bundle and placed her down on a soft bed, where comfortable sunlight draped over her, napping as she waited, and the smell of bountiful wheat brought along with it the feeling of something fresh and hopeful — as it always had time before.