Chapter Text
Skizz was alone.
Skizz had been alone for years now. It wasn't anything new or mind-blowing. It was just how he's always been. He was born to be alone, he lived much of his life alone, and chances are that he would die alone, too.
But at night, he oddly didn't feel so alone.
The sounds of nature around him kept him company. The hoot of an owl in a tree, glowing amber eyes staring down at him before flying off into the night. The howl of a single wolf, lonesome and hollow like it had been left behind. Crickets all around, filling the silence that remained.
It was music to his ears compared to all those congested places he spent most of his life. Places full of scrutinizing eyes that stared through his soul and scornful tongues that lashed like whips. Places he prayed no one else would have to go through.
At least nature wasn't judgmental or biased. It was just nature. Animals lived, animals died. Nothing else was involved in that.
Skizz looked back at the small fire before him, the dancing flames starting to languish in a dying dance. Sighing, Skizz fed the fire a couple more dry sticks, releasing eye-burning smoke into the air as a gesture of gratitude. It wasn't much, but it was enough to cook his food and keep hostile mobs at bay, at least until morning.
Skizz was a mess, with torn clothes, greasy hair and untidy wings that hadn't been preened in days, but at least he wasn’t too hungry, cold or in danger. At least, for the time being.
Finishing the last of the cooked potatoes he stole from a far-off village, Skizz sat back and looked up at the stars. The stars that blazed above him, always watching.
Every night when he was alone, he looked up to them. He wasn’t sure why he did it anymore. Hope? Guidance? He couldn’t tell anymore.
Skizz had been everywhere, from small towns flecked with narrow-minded prejudice to crowded lobbies and servers where he was kicked and pushed around like a stray animal. Judgemental faces, condescending voices and pitiful yet malicious actions were everywhere, and Skizz couldn’t avoid it.
Skizz tried all his life to block it out, but it never worked. It only came back stronger.
Every spot of hope rose like a dandelion in the concrete, only to be cut down when it was just starting to blossom. Every time he thought he had seen light, the darkness returned, conquering him once again. Skizz tried so hard to think positively about finally finding a supportive place to call home, but no matter what he did, it never worked.
For years, Skizz was living in the dark, but that didn't mean he had never seen light before.
He'd seen light in that goofy smile that put the very stars above him to shame. Light in those big brown eyes that would look up at him like he hung the moon and stars with his very hands. Light in that pleasant voice when he would go on and on about the most random things and Skizz would just lay back and listen.
Skizz would give anything to see him again, to hear his voice again, to look into his eyes and catch a glimpse of pure joy again.
But Skizz knew it would never happen.
His friend was gone, vanishing like early morning mist.
Skizz felt his soft wings wrap around his body in a protective shield as he fidgeted with a small locket around his neck, opening it up to reveal the photo of a friend he lost long ago. He didn’t know if it was something in that potato he ate or the chilling wind nipping at his skin, but something made him feel much more melancholy than usual.
Not like he had a lot to smile about to begin with.
He was alone in the woods, warming himself over fragile fires, eating rotten meat or stolen crops just to keep his head above water. He had no family he could lean on, no friends to talk to, and no real home to lay his head.
He was, in every sense of the word, alone.
Alone in the family that “loved” him. Alone in the little town he grew up in. Alone in every overpopulated server he stepped foot in. Alone in the wilderness, far from any known player around.
Skizz didn’t even know where he was. All he did was wander around like an aimless nomad, hoping to find his place among like-minded people.
It never worked.
But there was hope right in front of him.
There was hope in the whispering breeze around him. Hope in the cries of animals late at night. Hope in the very land he was sitting on. Hope in the half-full moon that loomed above him like a distant watching eye.
It was a new world, a new start, a new opportunity. A new place to rebuild himself, to grow and change like he never did before, to be the person he wanted to be, not the one everyone expected from him.
If the world hated him, then he would just make his own. One far away from the gnashing teeth and incriminating tongues of others. One where he was free to be himself. Not a blind sheep or an insignificant statistic, but an individual. For once in his life, he was truly free.
He was Skizzleman. He didn't need to prove anything to anyone.
~~~~~
Impulse was alone.
Even in a sea of people, he was alone.
But Impulse wasn't lonely. He had friends he loved very much and that loved him back.
The first he could think of was Tango, the first hermit to stretch out his hand and invite him onto the server he now called home. Zed followed a couple of seasons later, fitting right in with their crazy shenanigans. Both were wild and uncontrollable and he would have to rein them in sometimes, but Impulse enjoyed their presence nonetheless.
Impulse wasn't usually a lonely person, but in that moment, he was alone.
Both of his best friends were asleep, Impulse being used as the fleshy pillow separating them. Tango was breathing deeply in his sleep, his breaths sounding like the sizzle of a fire. Zed also made weird sounds, somewhere between a whisper and a sheepish bleat.
Instead, all Impulse had was the stars.
Stars above that watched him, staring like thousands, if not millions, of tiny eyes in the vast abyss of space. Sometimes, dark clouds would sail over them in the celestial sea, but the stars would always come back when the clouds rolled by.
Impulse heard a lot about stars, but he never really knew what they were.
Long-dead ancestors, observing and directing the living from above until it was time to join them. The homes of celebrated heroes and protective beasts, memorialized in the sky for all eternity. Orbs of flaming gas floating around in the endless void of space, born in magnificent nebulas and dying in glorious supernovas.
Whatever they were, the stars remained.
Watching, waiting, and internally weeping, just like he was doing.
Somehow, it took him back to his youth.
Back in the days when he would sneak out of the house during those late nights, the stars being his only guide to a secluded part of the nearby forest where they met. One that was easily covered by leaves and branches that camouflaged a miniature, vibrant pond, next to which the two of them would chat about life and such.
He could still remember what he looked like. Short, curly hair that reminded him of a young lamb. Swarthy skin that was a few shades darker than his own. Wings that twinkled like metal in the moonlight. Eyes that glistened like the daylit heavens and a smile that shone like the early morning sun through the trees.
The only thing from that god-forsaken town that he cared about.
Impulse would give anything to see him again, to hold his hand, to hear him call him that stupid nickname he hadn't heard in years.
But he wasn't there.
He was gone. He had been gone for years.
There was no way he was going to return to him.
Impulse sat up, his friends' hands falling from his body and onto the grassy ground below. Other than a soft slumbering sound, they didn't respond. Not like he needed them to, anyway.
Pulling the hanging necklace off his neck, Impulse looked down at the locket, which popped open spontaneously in his hands. In the fading light, Impulse noticed a couple of familiar faces. One was his own, his smile wider than it had been in decades. The other figure towered over him, smiling just as wide. He looked just like Impulse, only with feathery wings behind his head, blue eyes, curly black hair and broader shoulders
Boy, he really did miss that time.
The fire that started just minutes before it got dark was still burning, so someone must have been awake. Impulse could only see the outline of the fire, the focus eclipsed by a pile of sleeping bodies, those of his other friends.
Mumbo was lying on his back, his mustache fluttering slightly as he snored. Grian sprawled out on top of the mustached man, saliva pooling underneath him and soaking into Mumbo's clothes. Scar lay right next to them, arms folded above his weary head. If he were to guess, Joel was probably somewhere on the other side of that pile, also asleep.
Impulse finally stood up, gazing out onto the sea of sleeping people. Bdubs was curled up in his mossy clothes, Etho and Beef protectively laying on both sides of him. Hypno and xB were tightly huddled in each other’s arms as Jevin's viscous body melted over them like butter over a warm stack of pancakes.
Impulse focused his attention back on the small campfire, surrounded by a couple of familiar silhouettes. He could barely hear the warm whispers over the crackle of burning wood, but he knew they were wide awake.
Perhaps they wouldn't mind if Impulse joined them for a few minutes.
Impulse made his way over, cautiously stepping around his sleeping servermates. From the light of the flames, Impulse could see the gallant gleam of Wels's armor, the soft flap of Gem's ears, the tawny gloss of False's hair, and the twitch of one of Cub's inky fingertips. All of them were spread out within a few feet of each other, looking as if they all collapsed from exhaustion in that one spot.
Impulse turned his head to his side, seeing more hermits resting on the other side of the fire. Keralis was slumped next to Xisuma, coddling the admin's detached helmet like a pillow. Doc laid peacefully on the ground, the red glow of his robotic eye was much dimmer when he was asleep. Ren lounged lazily over Doc's side, glossy teeth sticking out of his mouth in a sleepy grin. Joe was sprawled out like a ragdoll, his face nuzzled between the pages of an old book like it was a pillow, holding his handmade puppet in one of his arms.
Finding a place next to the campfire, Impulse sat down with his legs crossed. He could feel the flames lap at his iconic yellowish-black shirt and gray khaki shorts, exposing every subtle crease and usually unnoticeable stain. Self-care was an afterthought, but once they finally settled, Impulse would clean himself up. Or at least make himself look presentable to the other hermits.
Impulse glanced up to see two pairs of glistening, otherworldly eyes, gazing directly into his soft brown. One pair of pale green was glazed over and sunken in like a corpse while the other pair of soothing twilight-blue was covered slightly by hazel brown hair and feathery antennae.
There was just something about the two hermits staring him down that made Impulse feel uneasy. Impulse couldn't find anything to say to break the silence, but the sounds of the wilderness around them did just that.
"So, can't sleep?" A scratchy voice bellowed out of the stillness. A voice that was undeniably Cleo.
Impulse nodded with a hum, staring at the ground beside him as he drew out a sad sniffle. He grabbed at the dirt, letting it sieve between his fingers onto a dusty pile below. He noticed the colorful bracelets sliding down his arm, ones the other hermits had made for him.
"You alright?" Pearl sounded skeptical. "You seem sad."
“Yeah, just been thinking about things, you know?” Impulse responded, continuing to examine the dirt beneath his fingertips. Sandy and grainy, fleeting like time through an hourglass. “Not anything really important.”
"You know, it would help if we talked about it." Pearl suggested.
As Impulse was about to reply, something soft grazed his hand. He looked down to find a smooth gray cat, shimmering lime-green eyes gazing up at him. The cat stepped onto his lap, giving off a small meow as she made a home there.
Jellie, Scar's beloved cat. The one he carried everywhere he went. Between seasons, around his buildings, to weekly meetings. Wherever Scar was, Jellie was sure to follow.
"Yeah, you're right." Impulse finally sighed, guiding his hand up to Jellie's head, causing the cat to purr softly.
"Is this about the new season?" Cleo inquired, face contorted in a frown, the usual sarcasm in her voice muted.
It was an understandable question for Cleo to ask. Periods between seasons were hard on everyone. Beloved bases left abandoned, old hermits going their separate ways, friendships changing as time went on. Impulse had been no stranger to that.
But it wasn't on his mind. At least, not at that moment.
"No, it's not about that." Impulse turned his gaze away from Cleo, his tail coiling closer to his body. "It's just... about an old friend. One I had before the server. That's all."
Impulse sighed, trying to hold back his emotions. It was far too late in the day to be emotional. Or too early. He wasn't sure.
"Yeah, we've all been through those." Pearl empathized, shattering the deafening silence. "It's not easy when friendships end like that."
Gazing through the winding haze of the smoke, Impulse could see Cleo staring blankly at the fire before them. She threw another short log into it, watching as embers and ashes flew like stray fireflies before dying out in the wind. She glanced back at Impulse, a tinge of empathy in her hollow eyes.
"So, that's why you couldn't sleep?" Impulse expected Cleo's words to be judgmental, but they were as faint as the chirping of insects around them.
Impulse looked back down at Jellie with a soft hum. He scratched the gray cat behind the ear, causing her to shake her head gently. The scarlet collar around her neck jangled noisily as if to remind the other sleepless hermits that she was still there.
“Well, we’re glad you’re awake with us, mate.” Pearl responded gently. “You’re always welcome to stay up with us, but I understand if you’re tired.”
“That’s right.” Cleo added, her voice sounding a lot more like her sarcastic self. "But if you want us to, we could totally knock you out."
“Cleo.” Pearl said in the same tone as a disappointed mother.
“What?” Cleo shrugged nonchalantly. “I’m just saying. I'm sure someone here has a bat or a hammer we can borrow or something.”
“Yeah.” Impulse sniffled, smiling weakly at the thought. “Thank you for the offer, but I’m probably going to pass on that.”
“Well, worth a shot.” Cleo smiled back. “In all honesty, you’re welcome to hang out with us as long as you want.”
“Thank you.” Impulse replied exhaustedly, closing his eyes for a second as he felt the flames wash over him from a comfortable distance.
Impulse looked back up at the stars, the sky slightly clouded by the twisting smoke that rose into the air. Somehow, he felt a lot less lonely. The stars still judged, but they felt further and further away.
Now, he was grounded in something real, something tangible, something that tore him from the darkness in his mind and into the present.
It might have been the two other sleepless hermits talking by the fire, rekindling some playful banter from seasons before. It might have been the peaceful cat on his lap, dreaming about pawing at leaves and chasing mice. It might have been the nocturnal wildlife, far away but still close enough to be real.
But Impulse no longer felt alone. At least, as alone as he felt before.
That was what he loved most about Hermitcraft. It was built on the foundations of a close-knit community, one where everyone contributed in one way or another. There was always something happening, something everyone could join in. A place where moths and zombies could mingle by moonlight. A place where ugly creatures like himself could find a friend or two. It was where he truly belonged, and he wouldn’t trade it for anything else.