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The sound of wings arrives first, and Etho knows he needs to look up, shielding his eyes against the midday sun. A silhouette moves across it, then back, spiraling down in clear intent to land. It swoops down, becoming a black figure in varied shades, and only comes into color as it dives between the rings of glass and pulls up short; and the red and blue and gold accents on Welsknight’s armor finally read clear as his feet touch down on the corner of the platform.
“Well howdy, neighbor,” Welsknight greets, shrugging his wings back under his armor plates with the slight jitter of a motion changed slightly after years of habit.
“Wels!” Etho stands, the clud of the released shulker lid closing as doubled punctuation. “What brings you to this neck of the woods?”
“Oh, just the usual. Finished up the nether tunnel, didn’t feel like starting anything else yet, decided to go look for someone to bother.” A half-cocked smile they both see as bright as beaming. “Lucky me, you were online, so. Hello.”
“I see, I see. I’m still your first choice?”
“Always.” Wels winks, then turns to gaze up at the decorated pylon above the launcher. “So this is the wind charge whatchamacallit that’s got everyone zooming past my place at mach 12, huh?”
Etho nods. “Yup, Etho’s patented whatchamacallit, at your service.” He pats the top of the shulker box. “Now with added points of interest in case you get lost, and a few other quality of life changes.”
Wels nods, lifting the lid while still admiring the pylon. “Looks like a UFO, or that stuff that Doc and Ren were doing back when the moon was weird. I don’t hate it.” He peers inside, and a small knot of confusion appears in his brow. “But I don’t see any compasses labeled ‘Welsknight’s Amazing Japanese Castle’, are you out already?”
“I think you already know where your base is, Wels,” Etho snickers.
“Well, yeah, but how will other Hermits know to come say hi?” The pout in his voice is clearly playful as he lets the lid close again, uncaring whether Etho’s buying it or not. “Do you not want people to visit me, Etho?”
A huff, and Etho pretends to consider it. “Hmmm, I dunno, Wels. You’ve changed a lot recently; I’m not sure they’ve been good influences on you.” He reaches out, flicking one of Welsknight’s armor plates the wrong direction. “My knight in shining armor’s gone all dulled, and all the color drowns out your eyes. I hardly even recognize it’s you anymore.”
“Me? Change?” Wels presses his hand to his chest, mock-hurt. “Well, I never! Coming from you, that’s rich.”
Etho mirrors the mock-hurt right back. “What? What do you mean? I haven’t changed at all!”
“Yes you have!” Reaching up, Wels brushes his hand through Etho’s spiky hair, splaying it against the dark metal of his glove. “Look at this; your beautiful silver hair’s gone all white!”
They hold the tableau a moment longer.
And both dissolve into a fit of giggles.
Welsknight fixes Etho’s hair, and Etho fixes the armor plate, and all is right in the world.