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“It’s the things we don’t talk about that haunt us.”
The four of them don’t set out after Cleo and Ren with the goal of starting a fight. They are just going to talk, but Skizz and Scar are still filled with near-death adrenaline from the pairs’ failed trap, and the conversation ends up being painfully tense. It can’t help that they agreed to meet on Gem’s death beach for some void-forsaken reason. Grian doesn’t intend to fight them, not until Cleo unsheathes her swords with a look of pure determination. Ren follows a moment later, looking much less PVP confident but nonetheless resolved. From there, things spiral quickly.
Skizz has always been a bit swing-happy and wastes no time in bringing out his weapon. Scar does the same, and there’s something dangerous and all too familiar gleaming in his eyes.
His green eyes, Grian reminds himself.
Cub pulls out a bow. Cleo shifts into a fighting stance. Despite himself, Grian finds his sword – deep purple and gleaming with powerful enchantments – in his hands. For a moment, they just stare at each other, and Grian feels a flicker of hope that this can all be avoided. Cleo and Ren are outnumbered, and they know that. As long no one from their side-
Skizz swings first with a shout, his sword moving in a wide arc that has Cleo stumbling backwards. Scar moves to block Ren. Cub pulls back his bowstring. Grian just stands there, paralyzed and useless. Skizz fights with wild abandonment and sheer strength, but Cleo meets it with a calm, level head. She can’t quite get a hit of her own in, but she parries every swipe of Skizz’s sword.
Ren is doing much worse, especially since Cub keeps flinging arrows his way. One of them lands square in his shoulder and sends him tumbling to the ground. Scar very nearly gets the winning hit, but Ren rolls out of the way and jumps to his feet with a truly impressive speed.
“Grian, what are you doing?” Cub calls out.
He turns away from the fight, his chest screaming despite having not done a thing, to stare at Cub as he tries to come up with a response. What is he doing? There’s no reason for him to be scared. He knows Hermitcraft’s code has been adjusted so they barely feel pain. Death is no more than a minor inconvenience, and it’s not like he’s at risk of ending up in exile right now. There’s no reason for him to be scared. He knows that.
Cub’s grip on his bow string falters as he watches Grian with an increasingly worried expression. Then, Cub’s eyes widen, and he’s shouting at Grian to turn around. Ice floods his veins, and Grian turns just in time to see Etho’s sword careening toward him. He falls backward with a rushed movement, narrowly avoiding the swing and falling into the rough sand.
He can feel each grain pressed against his skin. His lungs have stopped. Etho’s eyes are no longer a dark, warm brown. They’re red. Blood red. The sun is blinding, the air is filled with the stench of death, and the sand – that damn desert sand – creeps its way into every hastily wrapped wound. It hurts. It hurts so much, and for a minute, Grian is willing to let Etho end it.
Then, Etho disappears. Grian’s head swims – heat exhaustion , he thinks duly – and in front of him appears no other than his traitorous ally. Except, Scar’s eyes aren’t red, and he says Grian’s name with such softness, such reverence.
“G?” he asks.
Grian feels like he’s going to puke. He shuts his eyes briefly, taking in the sudden silence all around him that’s only broken by his labored breathing. When he opens them, all he sees is Scar’s lifeless body covered in crushed petals and dried blood. He can’t help it, he screams, and then the world goes black.
When Grian wakes up, the world is still far too bright and his head feels like it’s going to implode. He shuts his eyes again and groans. There’s a dull sense of panic bubbling beneath his skin, but the place he’s in is warm, soft, and quiet.
“G?” a voice asks. It’s a familiar voice, although he’s not sure why. “Grian? Are you awake, mate?”
Ah. Mumbo. He laughs out loud at the thought. Why is that so funny? It probably shouldn't be funny, but something about it makes him feel all warm inside.
“It’s too bright,” Grian says through his soft, odd laughter.
“What?” the disembodied Mumbo asks.
“It’s too bright~” Grian singsongs before bursting out in laughter.
“Oh, mate, you are so high,” Mumbo laughs.
Grian hears a squeaky sound and then the brightness behind his eyelids dims significantly. He opens his eyes slowly to see Mumbo standing beside a now much dimmer lamp
“Better?” he asks.
“Much better,” Grian sighs.
He pushes himself into a sitting position and glances around the room. His head feels awfully fuzzy, but he does his best to take stock anyway. The room he’s in is small and bland. There’s a small side table, a standing lamp, a plain white bed he’s resting on, and a chair nearby that Mumbo takes a seat in.
“What happened?” Grian asks, trying to push past his head fog and failing.
Mumbo sighs, and Grian notices he looks weary and stressed. His usually neat suit is ruffled; his tie undone and hanging against the back of his neck.
“You went out with Cub, Skizz, and Scar doing permit stuff or whatever. Apparently you got into a fight with Ren and Cleo and it, well, it must have reminded you of some bad memories because…” Mumbo trails off, refusing to meet Grian’s eyes.
“Because?” he prompts.
Mumbo takes a deep inhale. “Because you sorta lost it on them.”
Grian freezes. “Did I hurt anyone?”
“What?” Mumbo asks, turning sharply toward him. “No, no you didn’t hurt anyone.”
“Oh,” Grian relaxing back against his pillows. “Then what did I do?”
“I mean, I think you had a panic attack, mate,” Mumbo says. There’s a distinct concern in his words that speaks to countless nights spent consoling Grian following… third life.
Cleo’s determined look, Ren’s fear hesitation , the dangerous gleam of Scar’s eyes, a sword swinging toward him, rough grains of sand digging into his skin-
“Right.” Grian sighs. He feels like he’s moments away from laughing, or crying, or both. “Why do I feel so weird?”
A smile cracks Mumbo’s composure. “That would be the sedatives, mate.”
“The what?” Grian asks. He feels like he should be more concerned about that, but the fog in his head is making it hard to feel a whole lot of anything.
The smile drops from Mumbo’s face. “Well, uh, Xisuma rushed over to try and calm you down, but every time you woke up you lost it again so… he may have sedated you.”
“Oh.”
“Oh?” Mumbo asks. “That’s all you got?”
“I don’t really feel anything but fuzzy, Mumbo.”
“Right, yeah. That medicine must have been strong.”
Grian shuts his eyes, leaning further into the pillow. “I’m tired.” He can feel his awareness fading, likely an effect of the sedatives.
“Don’t worry,” Mumbo tells him softly. “I’ll be here when you wake up.”
The next time Grian wakes up is significantly less pleasant. His head is pounding, and there’s anxiety buzzing through his veins. He groans as he sits up, eyes blinking and slowly adjusting to the – thankfully – dim light.
“Morning, G,” Mumbo says, glancing up from the book in his hands. “How are you feeling?”
“My head hurts,” Grian mumbles. It takes a minute, but the memories of what exactly happened return to him in a rush.
“Xisuma is on his way,” Mumbo tells him. “He’s been waiting very patiently for the chance to talk to you.”
Grian hums. “He has questions, I’m guessing.”
“Yep.”
The sedatives seem to have fully worn off, and Grian can’t say he doesn’t miss their presence. “Where are we?” he asks, glancing around the awfully bland room.
“Near X’s base. He wasn’t sure what would… trigger you, so he built the most boring room possible.” Mumbo still looks like he hasn’t slept in days, but his face is no longer pinched with worry.
“Sorry,” Grian mumbles. Now that he’s lucid, he can feel guilt eating away at him.
“Don’t be,” Mumbo says, looking at Grian with far too much fondness. “I needed a good break from building fans anyway.”
“Fans?” Grian asks.
“Fans.”
“Right…”
Before Grian can ask why in the world Mumbo is building fans, a knock at the door attracts their attention. Mumbo glances at him, and Grian nods.
“Come in,” Mumbo calls out.
Xisuma steps into the room and closes the door behind him with a soft click. Grian can tell by the tension in his shoulders that he’s been worried as well. The guilt resurfaces, but Grian pushes it aside.
“Hey, X,” he says. The greeting is lacking its usual cheer, but there’s a certain comfort regardless.
“Grian,” Xisuma greets, walking to his bedside. “I heard you’re feeling a bit better.”
“If you mean the sedatives have worn off, then yes,” Grian replies, causing Mumbo to snort next to him.
Xisuma winces. “Sorry about that.”
“It’s fine, X,” Grian reassures him. “I barely remember most of what happened anyway.”
Mumbo gives him a weird look, and it occurs to Grian that this is the first time he’s actually talked about what happened.
“Well I have some questions about what you do remember,” Xisuma says, hovering hesitantly by Grian’s bedside.
“X, for the love of void, just take a seat,” Grian says.
“I can move,” Mumbo offers.
“No, no, that’s alright,” Xisuma replies.
“Just take a seat on the bed. I don’t bite,” Grian adds with an eye roll. For being two of the smartest people Grian knows, they can be really stupid sometimes.
Xisuma laughs as he takes a seat on the edge of bed. Mumbo is grinning as he resumes his reading.
“Alright,” Xisuma starts. “Do you mind telling me what exactly happened?”
Grian takes a breath and pushes away his panic at the thought. “Honestly, X, I’m not really sure. One minute we were doing usual Hermitcraft stuff and then… and then it was like I was right back there .”
He doesn’t have to elaborate where, or when really, “there” is. In fact, the people in this room are the ones who know the most about it. Well, except for everyone who was actually there. Although Mumbo’s knowledge could likely rival those who were actually participants.
“Trauma is tricky like that,” Xisuma says with a sigh.
“It’s been years,” Grian grumbles. “I should be over this.”
Mumbo glances up from his book, eyebrows drawn tight. “We literally just had another incredibly stressful game. I think you’re allowed to be a little shaken.”
They haven’t talked about Wild Life, not really. The pain is just too fresh.
“Mumbo’s right,” Xisuma adds softly. “Even if there wasn’t a practical reason, it doesn’t mean your experiences are any less valid.”
Grian can’t quite bring himself to agree, so he just sighs and stares at the white concrete walls surrounding them.
“With that being said,” Xisuma continues. “Do you think something in particular could have triggered your memories?”
Sand, blood, Scar-
Grian scoffs. “Nothing I’m not used to dealing with by this point.”
“Did something from the last game remind you of third life?” Mumbo asks.
Grian pauses, and the memories come flooding back: Scar up on that stupid mountain with his stupid grin, the reputation board, Big B treated me right , poppies, and lilacs, and unyielding, never-ending pain because he was gone and he wasn’t coming back and Grian was alone -
“Hey, hey, G!” Mumbo’s voice snaps him out of it.
Now that he’s returned to his body, he can feel the gentle pressure of Mumbo’s hands on his shoulders. The man is staring at him, eyes filled with worry.
“Are you alright?” he asks.
“Yeah,” Grian says, and his voice doesn’t even sound convincing to himself.
Mumbo stares at him, his eyes searching for something. Grian can feel Xisuma’s eyes on him as well. It’s a little overwhelming, but his presence is undeniably comforting. Mumbo sighs and mutters, “move over,” before squeezing in next to him on the bed. He wraps his right arm around Grian’s shoulder, a movement all too reminiscent of Wild Life. Pain and yearning war in his chest and Grian has to remind himself that they’re safe now.
“I take it that I was right?” Mumbo asks.
“You always are,” Grian responds, tilting his head onto his shoulder.
“I know you don’t love the suggestion, G,” Xisuma starts, and Grian knows he’s going to hate what follows. “But I really think it would help if you took anxiety medicine. I’m pretty sure Doc is working on something for Ren. I don’t think he’d be opposed to a little extra work.”
X is right. Grian hates that suggestion, but he’s beginning to come to terms with the fact that it may be necessary. This time no one got hurt, but there’s no guarantee it will remain that way.
“I’ll… talk to him,” Grian says.
Mumbo squeezes his shoulder and gives him a proud smile.
“Good,” Xisuma says as he rises to stand. “Well, I’ll stop bothering you now. You’re welcome to stay here as long as you’d like, but I have a feeling you’d rather be at your base.”
“You don’t want me to stick around?” Grian asks.
“Not if you don’t want to,” Xisuma replies. He must sense Grian’s hesitancy because he continues after a beat of silence. “Just, be careful, alright? Try to avoid anything too triggering and take it easy. And if you ever need someone to talk to, I’m right here.”
“Thanks, X,” Grian replies softly. “Really.”
“Anytime,” the admin adds, tipping his head at Grian.
Although he can’t see Xisuma’s face past his helmet, Grian has a feeling he’s smiling as he exits the room.
“So…” Mumbo starts. “We heading to your base or mine?”
From: Rendog
Hey G. I know you’re probably still resting but please let me know you’re alright when you see this.
Also I’m sorry. Neither of us meant to freak you out.
Get some rest G-man!
From: ZombieCleo
Hi Grian. I hope you’re feeling better. X said you're finally lucid again.
I’m sure Ren already apologized on my behalf, but I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean to cause any real harm.
Get better soon, alright?
From: Skizzleman
Hey G! I’m sure the others have been blowing up your comm so I’ll keep it short ;)
If you need someone to talk to I’m here!!
Get some rest man. See you back out on the field soon!!
From: Cubfan135
Hi Grian. X let us know you’re back with us in the living realm. Don’t worry about the permit stuff. I’ve got it under control. Just focus on resting.
Also, I know I’m probably the last person you’d want to talk to about you know what, but if you ever need someone, I’m here.
From: GoodTimesWithScar
Hey
Honeslty G I have no idea what to say
X assured me you’d be alright but I’m stil terrified
No not terrified. Your not scary at all but
Worried. I’m worried G
Please let me know once your feeling better
We don’t have to talk about it but
Please
I need to know your okay
And if you want to talk about it then
You know I’m always willing
Stay safe okay?
In: Permit Office [Group]
Cubfan135: Meeting at my office in 15.
Skizzleman: Uh oh. What now?
GoodTimesWithScar: On my way boss o7
Skizzleman: ^^
Cubfan135: I’ll explain once you’re here.
It’s been a few days since the incident, and Grian’s feeling a lot better. He’s spent the past few days working on his base, which isn’t necessarily resting, but it’s relaxing nonetheless. Now, he’s ready to get back into the fray, so although he wasn’t technically invited, he flies over to the permit office anyway. He even manages to stick the landing. When he arrives, Cub is the only one present, and he looks sufficiently shocked to see him.
“Grian!”
“Cub.” Grian nods.
“Should you… be here?” Cub asks.
Grian takes his usual seat across from him. “Should I not be?”
For a moment, Cub just stares at him with narrowed eyes. Then, he sighs and leans back in his chair.
“Scar is coming,” he offers.
“I’m aware,” Grian returns.
The office grows tense and silent after that. Grian hates talking about third life in general, but there’s no one he hates talking to about it more than Cub. It’s not that he has anything against the man. In fact, hanging out with him this season has been a lot of fun, but Cub was told a very different version of third life than the one Grian remembers. Scar never explicitly told Grian that he talked to Cub about third life, but in the weeks following the game, Grian saw something shift in the way Cub treated him. The man wasn’t quite hostile, but he wasn’t friendly either. At meetings, he watched Grian with narrowed eyes and pursed lips. Thankfully, for whatever reason, Cub never said anything. Grian isn’t sure he’d be able to answer any of his questions anyway.
Things changed again after last life. Grian has no idea what Scar said to him, but Cub stopped looking at Grian with carefully restrained anger. His look was one of resignation, of pity: like he finally realized Grian was as powerless as the rest of them. Grian can assume Scar confides in Cub after the games just like he does with Mumbo. Scar’s within his right to do that, and Grian’s glad he has someone to talk to, but his relationship with Cub has always been a bit tense. There’s understanding that, if it came down to it, Cub would always choose Scar.
Skizz arrives with a shout and a thunk against the glass window. The action breaks the weird staring contest Grian and Cub were having, and they both laugh as Skizz rises to his feet and dusts himself off.
“We really need a better entrance into this place,” Skizz complains as he steps through the hole in the window.
He scans the room and his gaze quickly lands on Grian. His eyes widen a bit, but his surprise is quickly replaced with glee.
“G! You’re back!”
Count on Skizz to always make him feel valued.
“Hey, Skizz,” he replies with his own smile.
Skizz bounds over to him, elytra wings flapping against his back, and wraps Grian in a tight hug. It’s a bit awkward considering Skizz towers over him even when he’s standing, but Grian lets him have this. The two of them are still hugging when the last member of their little group makes his entrance – also by smacking into the window.
“Ow,” Scar groans.
Skizz releases Grian with a laugh and steals Scar’s seat while the man struggles to get back on his feet.
“Need some help, Scar?” Cub drawls, his feet kicked up on the desk with zero intention of actually helping.
“Very funny, Cub,” Scar calls back as he slips through the opening. “I’ll have you know I’m perfectly capable of-”
Scar freezes – literally freezes – as he catches sight of Grian, and Grian begins to doubt this was a good idea.
“Grian,” he breathes out, glancing between him and Cub. “Uh- you’re here?”
“This is a permit office meeting. I work for the permit office, do I not?” Grian quips back.
Scar just stares at him, a hundred emotions flickering through his eyes. “Yeah, yeah…”
He doesn’t even complain about Skizz sitting in his seat. He just listlessly leans against the wall and turns to look at Cub, who wastes no time in kicking things off.
“Well lads, we still need to deal with Ren and Cleo,” Cub starts.
“You didn’t exile them?” Grian asks. He hadn’t actually considered what happened after he blacked out.
“We were, uh, preoccupied,” Skizz replies.
“We didn’t exile them,” Cub confirms. “Which is why we need to figure out a plan. It’s only a matter of time before they’ve rallied the whole server.”
“Alright, let’s go get ‘em then,” Skizz suggests, half-way out of his seat already.
“I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” Scar mumbles.
Grian knows he’s part of the reason Scar’s hesitating, and he hates it.
“Let’s do it,” Grian says like the idiot he is. There’s no way this can end well, he knows that, but not following along feels like giving up.
“What?” Scar asks, turning his way sharply.
“Yes!” Skizz cheers. “My man! Let’s do it!”
Skizz’s cheer is infectious, and Grian feels the weight lift off his shoulders. If he just keeps his head clear and avoids thinking about it-
“No,” Scar interjects, nearly shouting to be heard over Skizz’s enthusiasm. “No way.”
“Maybe we should come up with a different plan,” Cub carefully interjects.
“Why?” Skizz asks. “It almost worked last time. We outnumber them by nearly double.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Scar says, his voice empty but stern.
“Of course it does!” Skizz says. “C’mon, we can do this.”
Grian shakes his head fondly. Everything Skizz does he does to the extreme. It’s endearing, even if it does often get him in trouble.
“I said no, Skizz,” Scar snaps back. His tone is getting harsher by the minute, and Grian is seriously considering stepping in and offering a smarter, less anger inducing idea.
“Why not?” Skizz asks again.
Grian sees the moment Scar breaks.
“You know why!” he shouts, taking a threatening step toward Skizz.
Cub moves to stand in between them, apparently ready to break up a fight if need be. Grian stands as well and his wings flare out as tensions grow. It doesn’t matter though because Skizz realizes his mistake.
“Right…”
Scar sighs and steps back. Cub relaxes but doesn’t move from his position.
“I’ll be fine,” Grian cuts in, and all eyes turn to him. “I knew what I was signing myself up for when I agreed to the exile program.”
“That was before,” Scar says, and Grian can hear the unspoken before Wild Life hanging in the air.
“I said it’s fine,” Grian says, crossing his arms. “You don’t need to treat me like I’m going to break.”
Scar’s shoulders tense, and Cub’s face grows increasingly worried.
“I said no. End of discussion,” Scar says. “It has to be a unanimous decision, right?”
For a moment, they all just stare at each other. Grian can feel his body tensing with anxiety. He’s not giving up now.
“You’re only saying no on my behalf,” Grian shoots back. “Because you think I can’t handle it.”
“That’s not-” Cub begins to say.
Scar’s eyes fill with anger and his jaw clenches. Grian’s own righteous anger is replaced by cold fear, and even though he knows it’s irrational, he swears he can feel the desert sun bearing down on him.
“I’m saying no because I don’t know if I can bear to watch that again, Grian,” Scar snaps.
“I have it under control,” Grian hisses back.
“I don’t think you do!” Scar shouts. His hands are clenched into fists at his sides.
“Guys,” Skizz says. “I don’t think we should-”
“Like you know anything,” Grian scoffs.
“I know damn well. I was there!” Scar fires back.
The conversation has devolved into a full on screaming match at this point with Cub moving to hold back Scar and Skizz getting ready to block Grian.
“Really?” Grian asks. He can feel the stress of the past few days culminating inside him to form a dangerous fury. “You know what it's like to watch each and every one of your friends die? To murder the only person who cared about you in cold blood? To watch the sunset and know that you’re the reason they’ve suffered!”
With each question, Grian can feel his control slipping a bit more. All he can see is Scar’s face flashing from anger, to betrayal, to sadness.
“You know what it’s like to look at the world and know you’re the only one left to see it? You know what it’s like to feel a pain so deep you’d rather die!”
Scar flinches backward, and just like that, the anger drains out of Grian. He realizes there’s tears in both their eyes. Grian desperately tries to blink his away. The room is blurry and his ears are ringing, but slowly the world comes back into focus. Dread fills Grian’s bones as he catches sight of Cub’s horrified face and the pain in Skizz’s eyes. He doesn’t look at Scar. He’s scared of what he’ll see.
The room has gone achingly silent. As if no one quite knows where to go from here. Grian doesn’t blame them, not when he’s the one who just dumped all his deeply repressed trauma on them.
“What’s going on here?”
Grian looks up and sees Xisuma standing just behind Scar in the hole in their window. His chest is rising and falling rapidly, and he’s not wearing his helmet.
“X, what are you doing here?” Grian asks.
“I called him,” Cub admits softly.
“I have a feeling I’m a bit late…” Xisuma says as he glances around the room. “Um, is everyone alright?”
“Define alright,” Skizz says dryly.
Scar chuckles, but there’s a distinct wetness to it that indicates he’s definitely crying. Grian still refuses to look at him.
“Scar…” Cub begins but drifts off.
“Um, Grian, Mumbo’s looking for you. Something about wanting to install a… fan? In your base,” Xisuma says as he carefully steps around Scar and into the room.
Grian weighs his options before sighing. “I should probably go stop him.”
“I’ll come with,” Skizz offers, a twinge of nerves in his voice. “I’ve been meaning to visit your base anyway.”
“But Cleo and Ren-“ Grian starts.
“Can be handled another day,” Cub says in a voice that leaves no room for questions.
“Fine,” Grian says. He waits a beat before turning on his heel and taking the proper exit out of the building. He doesn’t wait up, but he can hear Skizz’s footsteps following behind him.
The permit office door is still open, and Grian wastes no time in storming outside into the bright, sunny air. It’s a nice day: bright and warm with just a slight breeze. Grian pauses to take some deep breaths of the fresh air as he tries to reign in his warring emotions.
“You alright, G?” Skizz asks.
“Yeah,” he replies even though his chest is heaving. “Just give me a minute.”
Skizz nods and then looks away in a poor attempt to give him some privacy. The sun is bright and warm but not blistering like it was in the desert. There’s a calmness in the soft breeze that ruffles his hair. The desert was rarely windy. Grian takes solace in the differences, in the reminders that he’s not there anymore.
He takes one more deep breath and stretches his wings. Behind him, he can hear Skizz strapping on his elytra.
“Let’s go,” Grian says.
He uses a rocket to launch himself before gliding in the direction of his base. Wind pushes through his hair and across his feathers, and more of the tension bleeds out of his body. Flying is one of the few things that always calms his nerves, and he couldn’t do that in third life either. As he flies – with Skizz trailing clumsily behind him – he takes in the large, detailed buildings below. It’s another reminder that this Hermitcraft, that it’s safe, and it’s home.
He lands at his base feeling marginally better. Skizz lands not so gracefully behind him. Just like Xisuma said, Mumbo is standing on the grass in front of Grian’s house. He’s staring up at the build with a look of intrigue and contemplation.
“Absolutely not,” Grian calls out. He tries to force some amusement into his voice, but it comes out far too flat.
Mumbo startles and turns toward the approaching pair. “I haven’t even asked yet!” he says, throwing up his arms.
The pair come to a stop in front of the man. Skizz laughs quietly and waves to Mumbo while Grian crosses his arms.
“I know what you’re going to ask,” Grian says. “And the answer is no.”
Mumbo goes to say something but then stops. Instead he asks, “are you alright, mate?”
Grian curses the fact that Mumbo knows him so well.
“It’s a long story,” he says with a sigh.
Mumbo nods. “Guess I’ll have to give you my fan pitch another day.”
Despite himself, a surprised laugh leaves Grian’s chest.
“You sound just like Scar,” Skizz adds.
“You know, I’m okay with that,” Mumbo says. “Nice to see you, Skizz.”
An ache blooms in Grian’s chest as memories of wild life resurface. He turns toward his base in hopes of distracting himself only to be reminded of the fact that his builds are still very, very unfinished. He should really get back to work. Why did he even leave in the first place? He knows the answer, but that doesn’t make him feel better.
Skizz and Mumbo have struck up a conversation, chatting each others’ ears off about this and that. Anxiety sinks back into Grian’s bones, and suddenly his very existence seems like too much. His gaze drifts to Scar’s base on the horizon. It’s a picturesque view: all tall, beautiful trees and colorful, intricate train cars. This is Hermitcraft , Grian reminds himself. We’re all safe.
No matter how hard he pushes, the anxiety buzzing beneath his skin doesn’t go away. His breath is speeding up and his instincts scream to run. Fight or flight, he thinks, no wonder I like being in the air .
“Grian?” Mumbo asks, his voice quiet and hesitant.
He turns to his friends and realizes their conversation has stopped. They look concerned. Grian seems to have that effect on people.
“Yeah?”
“Are you… okay?”
“I don’t know.”
The sun is uncovered in the sky, clouds drifting someplace else. The rays are warm against his skin, and he fights to remain here and not lost amongst desert nightmares.