Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

When Mumbo messaged Grian saying that the Admin of Hermitcraft wanted to meet him, Grian was, to say the least, baffled. Why would the Admin of one of the most renowned servers want to meet him? How would he hide his wings? Would the Admin be able to tell he was a Watcher?

That was how he found himself in this situation, wings bound, with Xisuma sitting across from him at the table in Grian’s creative world, being interviewed to join the most well-known whitelist server in history.

It had all started when Mumbo visited Grian on some random Tuesday. Mumbo saw Grian’s builds and said that he’d be a great addition to Hermitcraft. Little did Mumbo know, Grian was both an Avian and a Watcher, both of which were generally frowned upon in society.

Grian had panicked when he found out that Xisuma was a Voidwalker, the Watchers’ sworn enemy. A Voidwalker could recognize the average Watcher with ease, and was one of the few beings that could kill a Watcher, which was less than ideal for Grian.

Xisuma being a Voidwalker also meant that he was probably more open to hybrids, but that thought went right over Grian’s head.

“Would you ever intentionally harm somebody?” Xisuma’s voice broke Grian out of his thoughts.

“Not unless I had a good reason to, like if they attacked first or they intentionally hurt someone I loved,” Was his automatic answer.

“What are your thoughts on hybrids?” Grian’s wings twitched from where they were bound. How was he supposed to answer this? If he said he supported the hybrids, he could be rejected. If he lied and said he didn’t support the hybrids, he could be rejected. There was no obvious right answer.

Since when was he worried about being rejected? Was the idea of not being alone that enticing? Even after everything that has happened on his old server?

“In my opinion, hybrids should be treated as equals to humans. They should be punished for breaking the law the same, they should be rewarded for saving the day the same. They should have the same educational opportunities, and have the same work opportunities.” Grian ended up saying his honest opinions on hybrids as a hybrid himself. Not that he’d tell anyone that he was an Avian, that was one quick way to get taken advantage of.

Xisuma nodded and wrote something down in his notebook, before standing and shaking Grian’s hand.
“That’s all the questions I have for you. I’ll get back to you sometime in the next two weeks with the results,” Was all the Admin said, before saying his farewells and logging out, leaving Grian to sit in silence.

Had he answered the hybrid question correctly? Hopefully with Xisuma’s response, he did. Only time would tell.

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Grian stared numbly at the envelope in his hands. Xisuma had come over and dropped it off not long ago, claiming that he liked being formal for this situation.

It had been a week and a half since the interview with the Admin, and Grian was struggling to comprehend what he’d gotten himself into.

He could be a member of a server with others again, depending on the contents of this letter and his choice after that. He wouldn’t be alone. He could play pranks and start mini games and be part of something again.

The thought terrified him.

What if the Watchers found this Server too? What if the same thing that happened to Evo- his old server happened to Hermitcraft because of him? He wouldn’t be able to take it if more innocents died because of him.

He opened the envelope with trembling fingers, and went rigid when he saw the contents.

Grian,

I, Xisuma Void, Admin of Hermitcraft, would like to formally invite you to join the Hermitcraft Server for season six.

It then went on to list information about rules and timing, the normal letter that you are thought how to write in Admin school.

Grian didn’t know what to do. If he declined, he’d break Mumbo’s heart, but, if he accepted, he’d have to hide his wings almost all of the time. Keeping them bound for the interview and when the letter was dropped off was hard enough, he couldn’t imagine that being a daily occurrence.

He did the first thing that came to mind. He messaged Mumbo for help.

Grian: Mumbo

Grian: Mumbo help

Mumbo: Whats up mate?

Grian: I was invited to Hermitcraft

Grian: What do I do

There was silence from Mumbo’s end for a few moments, which did nothing to soothe Grian’s nerves.

Mumbo: That’s great! You should join, the Hermits would love you

That…. Was surprisingly unhelpful. Why was he surprised? Mumbo didn’t know about Grian’s past experience with SMPs, and he didn’t really want to change that. What Mumbo didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him in this situation.

As Grian was making some tea to soothe his nerves, he had a thought.

What would his friends want him to do?

He almost dropped his tea at the thought. What would his friends, his flock, his sister, want him to do?

He knew what they’d tell him, but he didn’t know if he could do it.

After a few hours of thinking, Grian grabbed his comm and gave Xisuma his answer.

Grian was willing to be a Hermit, no matter how temporary the situation was.

For the Evolutionists.

Chapter Text

Grian didn’t know what to expect when he joined Hermitcraft. Mumbo was ecstatic, Xisuma was welcoming, and the Hermits were coming out of a Nether Portal at Spawn in what can only be described as a giant blob. The amount of people was stressful compared to what Grian had gotten used to on his creative world, where it was just him and occasionally Mumbo.

Now, he was on a server where there were more people than he had fingers, and it was taking everything he had to keep his wings from fluffing up due to the anxiety that was flooding his mind.

The Hermits did the usual welcoming of a new member, even if they were significantly more hospitable than he was used to. What surprised him, however, was not the strange welcoming committee, but rather the hybrids that were there. Grian noticed a blaze hybrid, a zombie hybrid, what he could only guess was a slime hybrid, and many others.

What?

Large servers, especially the well known ones, were often against hybrids, thinking of them as unclean and inferior to the players. It made no sense that Hermitcraft had hybrids. Did the players use the hybrids to make life easier? Were the hybrids forced to stay here? Was this server far more messed up than the news made it out to be?

Hermitcraft was the best whitelist server to join, why in the Void were there hybrids?

“So,” Mumbo’s voice broke Grian from his internal crisis. “What do you think?”

Grian looked around at the obviously tight-knit community, and his heart ached when all it reminded him of was Evo. He didn’t know if he could be part of something like this again, but by the Void, he would have to try.

For the Evolutionists.

“They seem close,” Grian told his tall friend, who nodded.

“You’ll fit right in, mate, don’t worry,” Mumbo bumped Grian’s shoulder, making him almost fall over.
He was so distracted by his conversation with Mumbo that he didn’t notice someone approaching him. Someone who he very much did not know.

The man seemed to be around Grian’s age, with startling green eyes that had a mischievous glint in them. His face was covered in scars, and Grian didn’t want to imagine how those got there. Not with the knowledge he had of his own scars and how they got there.

Don’t go there Grian. Not in public.

“Why hello there, new Hermit! My name is Scar, and I come with the deal of a lifetime!” Scar didn’t look like had anything to barter with, and Grian sure didn’t.

“….What?” Grian was officially more confused than he was before. This was a strange welcoming committee.

Mumbo snickered. The spoon was not helping the situation at hand. Why was he surprised. Mumbo knew these people far better than Grian did, of course he’d side with them.

“So, what are y’all gonna build?” Scar continued, ignoring Grian’s confusion and not elaborating on the deal that he wanted to make.

“I was thinking something modern, you?”

“I was gonna go for something pirate-y,” Scar said. “What about you, Mumbo?”

“Same as Grian,”

After some more small talk, the trio dispersed to get started before nightfall. Grian ended up building a bottle around a shipwreck he found, making a great starter base as he planned his mega base.

His current thoughts, however, were not focused on his mega base. He wanted to get to know the Hermits, to figure them out. What better way to go about doing that than a game of good old-fashioned tag.

The rules were simple, and it shouldn’t be able to make people mad if they get tagged. Hopefully.

The Evolutionists would be proud of him. He was branching out, actively trying to make new friends, despite the growing ache in his back from keeping his wings bound. Better safe than sorry.

Wouldn’t that make him sick? He decided to not worry about that until it happened. He’d figure something out before that happened. Hopefully.

He idly wondered if he could keep his wings a secret the whole time he was on the server. It couldn’t be good for him, but it was worth a try. If he could stay here and do what the Evolutionists would want him to do, he’d do it.

Would they want him to hurt himself for them?

He quickly brushed the thought away. He had games to make, builds to plan, and people to know. Now was not the time to question life choices, now was the time to work.

That didn’t stop the thought from haunting him.

Chapter Text

“Do you want to come to the sleepover tomorrow night?” Mumbo had asked Grian. A sleepover? Like, spending the night at someone else’s place for fun? Like the thing that he did monthly on Evo with the whole server? That kind of sleepover?

“What kind of sleepover is it?”

Mumbo sputtered at the question. “The kind where people all sleep in the same general area and bond? What other kinds of sleepovers are there?”

Grian shrugged. Thinking back on it, it had been a rather silly question. However…. He could trick Mumbo with a little white lie. That could be fun.

“Some sleepovers,” Grian made his voice drop to sound more intimidating, “people do normal things. Like….” What was considered a normal thing in this day and age? Fishing? “Fishing! They fish for hours, waiting for the ocean to give them something sacred. A Mending Book.”

Mumbo stared at Grian, visibly contemplating what he just heard, moustache wiggling.

“Doesn’t it take months to get a Mending Book?”

Grian nodded solemnly. Oh how good it felt to prank again.

The last time Grian properly pranked someone was when-

He shut down that train of thought. Can’t go there in front of people, Grian. Then they’ll know. They’ll know that you’re a monster capable of destroying worlds and perma-killing your players and your flock and your sister-

Mumbo touched Grian’s arm, causing the Avian to jump, wings fighting their bounds.

“You good, mate? You kind of spaced out there,” Oh Mumbo, if only you knew.

“I’m good!” Grian chirped. He really hoped Mumbo didn’t pick up on his inner turmoil.

“Anyways, would you want to go to the sleepover? It’s tradition to have one at the beginning of each season,”

What would the Evolutionists want?

“You know what? Sure. Why not,” And that was that. He was going to a sleepover, and he’d have to keep his wings bound the whole time.

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The evening had arrived all too soon. Grian had taken great care in preening his wings where he could reach, and had packed his bag worth of essentials.

The weather was nice as he walked over to the pavilion where the sleepover would be held, a direct contrast to his nerves. There was a lazy breeze and a few clouds dotted the sky that was turning a rainbow of colors from the sun dipping below the horizon.

His thoughts were not nearly as calm. How in the Void was he supposed to keep his wings hidden while he slept? Would the others know he was an Avian by morning? Would he be kicked out of Hermitcraft?

He almost went back to his Ship in a Bottle at the thought, his wings feeling heavier than ever. He probably would’ve, had it not been for Scar to welcome Grian with more energy than he thought possible.

“Grian! Long time no see!” How did Scar have this much energy at this hour?

“Hey Scar,” Grian pressed a smile onto his face. “How are you?”

“Good, good,” Scar paused for a moment. “Oh!” Scar snapped his fingers. “Your pajamas are over here!” Scar led Grian over to a table with many pairs of teal pajamas, one for each Hermit if he had to guess.
Scar picked up one that had Grian’s name on a piece of paper next to it. “These are yours!”

What? Why would Grian have his own pair? Would he have to wear those tonight? Would they be able to cover his wings?

Grian accepted the clothes numbly. What was he going to do?

Scar grinned, and then meandered over to a man with black hair and a lab coat.

“Howdy there!” A voice from behind him made Grian jump a foot in the air.

“Hello?” He said, turning around to see where the voice came from. What he saw, however, was not what he was expecting.

The man behind him looked normal, with brown hair and a blue shirt, but the Watcher in Grian screamed when he saw the man.

Something about this guy was decisively not human, and it was terrifying. Could he tell that Grian was an Avian? A Watcher? Grian wouldn’t be surprised if this guy knew all of his deepest secrets just by looking at Grian.

The man looked at the sky. “There’s an old myth,” the man started, “that the lands of the living and the dead meet at dusk. When the dead can join the living, if only for a few minutes.” The man looked at Grian with an expression that he couldn’t decipher. The man nodded, grinned, and walked away.

What in the Void just happened?

Dinner went smoothly, with the only disruptions being a hotdog turning into a torch, a guy in armor and a guy in a trench coat sparring with sticks that had marshmallows on the end, and a sheep hybrid making s’mores over a blaze hybrid’s hair.

It made him think of the Evo sleepovers, when they would do silly dares and make almost anything a competition, where the winner would get to prank the person of their choice however they saw fit. Thinking about it made his heart ache.

That night, the Hermits had a competition to see who could make the Hermits laugh the hardest. Bdubs, a loud, excited man, ended up winning. They then got into a debate on if a s’more was a kind of sandwich or not, which they debated until a bat flew into the pavilion, effectively distracting the Hermits.

The Hermits seemed like a happy group of people, and, from the looks of it, they treated the hybrids just like everyone else. It hurts Grian’s brain. Large servers didn’t like hybrids, why were they being so nice?
After the bat was corralled out of the pavilion, the Hermits decided to settle down for the night on the 30-ish mattress shoved together on the floor to make a giant bed.

Grian had a hard time falling asleep, too busy staring at the stars through the glass roof of the pavilion.

“Those look like a cactus,” An older brother pointed to the night sky, laying in a field next to his little sister one night when they were both kept awake from nightmares.

“That one looks like a bow and arrow!” She said excitedly, pointing at a constellation.

The brother nodded with a soft smile, pointing at another one. “That looks like a dog,”

“That one’s an hourglass,” The sister seemed to enjoy this game. She and her brother did not yet know what the Watchers were telling them, and how it would change their lives. But that is not tonight’s story. Tonight, it is two innocent siblings, looking at the stars.

“There’s a sunflower,” The brother pointed to the sky, unknowing of the Watchers’ plan.

“That one looks like a car!” The siblings were young enough to find joy in the stars. But, do you have to be young to find joy in the sky, or is it a matter of perspective?

As Grian looked at the sky that night, he couldn’t see any of the constellations he had once loved. All he saw was pinpricks of light that no longer brought him joy.

Chapter Text

The next morning, Grian woke up to the sound of the birds singing. He had the urge to reply with his own birdcall, but he stopped himself when he remembered the he wasn’t alone. He looked around and noticed that he was the first to wake, the sun not even being above the horizon yet. It couldn’t’ve been too early, because the sky was slightly lighter than it was at night.

He ended up getting up and going for a walk to a nearby stream, sitting down on a fallen tree trunk and listening to the water in the rocks. It was peaceful for a few minutes, that was until Bdubs woke up and joined him next to the stream.

“Good morning!” Bdubs said with a voice that almost made Grian think the others would wake up.

“Morning,” Grian smiled at his fellow hybrid.

“So, how did you sleep?”

“Good, you?”

“I miss my normal bed. The blankets here were too long and someone by the name of Etho kept being a blanket hog. That man looked like a burrito when I looked over there this morning!”

Grian chuckled at Bdubs’ outburst. It reminded him of Timmy and Martyn arguing in the morning after a sleepover in Evo.

“I’m surprised that you haven’t said anything about some of us being hybrids,” Bdubs started, effectively catching Grian off guard. “Most people comment on it by now. They think it’s strange that there are hybrids and humans can live in harmony with each other on one of the most well-known servers out there.”

Did Bdubs know that Grian is an Avian? Would these Hermits be okay with his Avian-ness? Would they be mad at him for keeping it a secret in the first place?

Grian shrugged. “My old server had quite a few hybrids on it. I guess I’m used to it at this point.”

Bdubs nodded, before his eyes lit up with an idea. “Oh! Do you want to go swimming in the stream with me?”

Oh no. How could he tell Bdubs that he couldn’t get his wings wet without telling Bdubs that he had wings? Waterlogged wings were a pain to clean on his own, and while he wouldn’t mind swimming if he had someone to help him preen afterwards, he would probably get an infected wing if he tried to preen on his own.

“I… didn’t bring a change of clothes! Yeah, that’s it!”

Bdubs raised an eyebrow, and then shrugged.

“Valid.”

They sat in an awkward silence for a few minutes, until Grian built up the courage to ask Bdubs a question.

“So,” He hesitated, unsure if this was an appropriate question to ask someone you just met. “Is your hoodie made out of plants?”

Bdubs chuckled at the question. “It’s a normal fuzzy yarn that Cleo made a hoodie out of for me. She likes to make every new member a gift, mine just happened to be this hoodie.”

Grian nodded. That made sense, the girls on Evo loved to make cookies for the new members, however few they may have been.

“Well,” Bdubs stretched his arms above his head. “I think that the Hermits have slept long enough. Too much sleep is bad for you, after all.”

Bdubs ended up waking the Hermits by yelling at them.

“WAKE UP! RISE AND GRIND PEOPLE! THINGS AREN’T GOING TO DO THEMSELVES!” Bdubs yelled at the Hermits. He probably would’ve kept going had it not been for a Hermit with white hair and a black mask interrupting his yelling.

“WE’RE UP, BDUBS!” Mask guy shouted at the not-moss-wearing Hermit.

“TOOK YOU LONG ENOUGH! GRIAN WAS AWAKE LONG BEFORE YOU LOT! THIS IS A HORRIBLE FIRST IMPRESSION!”

Mask guy shrugged, before getting up, cracking his back so it sounded like a glowstick, and rifled through a chest and pulled out some bread, handing it to Bdubs.

Xisuma ended up passing out the bread, though he had some cheese to go with it for the Hermits, unlike Bdubs and mask guy.

“So,” The Admin sat down next to Grian as the Hermits ate breakfast. “I hope the Hermits weren’t too overwhelming last night. They tend to be a bit… excited at the beginning of the season, much more at a sleepover.”

What? Why was Xisuma telling Grian this? Had Grian left the impression that he was easily overwhelmed on the Voidwalker? Had he done something wrong?

When Grian didn’t respond, Xisuma cleared his throat, and excused himself to go speak to someone by the name of ‘keralis’.

From there, the Hermits began to disperse back to their bases. Grian ended up going caving with Scar and Mumbo, which was an experience , to say the least. Scar died at least five times, and they didn’t end up getting any diamonds out of it, but it was fun.

A few days after the sleepover, Grian was scheduled to go hang out with Mumbo. The only problem with that was the fact that it was pouring rain and Grian was supposed to go to Mumbo’s place.

Grian couldn’t imagine how painful his wings would be if he went out in this weather.

The only reason that Grian built his starter base underwater was because he could easily dry off his wings down there where nobody could see him and his wings. Now, however, he had no excuses to get out of this meeting with the strangely tall Hermit.

As Grian stared out of his glass bottle, contemplating his life choices, he had an idea. What if he told Mumbo he was sick?

That wouldn’t work, because then Mumbo would probably tell Xisuma and it would be this whole thing of lies, he couldn’t do that.

He could just tell Mumbo that he had wings, but who knows how that conversation would go down.

In any other situation, Mumbo probably wouldn’t’ve minded Grian being an Avian. This, however, was not one of those situations. It would break Mumbo’s heart to think that Grian didn’t trust him enough to tell him earlier, and Grian didn’t particularly want to burn that bridge if he didn’t have to.

Grian ended up wrapping a scarf around his wings for extra protection and grabbing a makeshift umbrella before heading out.

The boat ride over to Mumbo’s bunker was fairly uneventful other than the occasional dolphin swimming alongside Grian’s boat. When Grian finally got there, he was greeted with the smell of redstone and tea, along with the sounds of pistons from farther in the base.

“Mumbo! I’m here!” Grian called as he followed the sounds of pistons and brains.

When he finally found Mumbo, he was not surprised to see the man tinkering with a piston door, redstone stuck in his wiggling moustache.

“I thought you perfected that design?” Grian thought out loud.

“I thought I did, but I heard about this new mechanic and thought I’d try it out.”

After a bit more small talk, Mumbo eventually decided to take a break when the door started to smoke, and he lead Grian to the kitchen to have some tea.

“How are you liking Hermitcraft so far?” Mumbo asked Grian after burning his tounge on his tea.

How was Grian liking Hermitcraft?

“There are more hybrids than I expected,” Grian answered honestly. “Everyone seems nice, it’s a nice change from my single player.”

Mumbo nodded. “I wasn’t sure if you’d like it here. After you tried to kill me when I logged onto your world, still no clue how that happened since I wasn’t whitelisted, I didn’t know if you’d want to be on a server with a bunch of others.”

Grian thought back to the first time Mumbo thought he met him. The Watchers has wiped everyone outside of Evo’s memories of everything and everyone connected to Grian when he joined Them. Now that he thought about it, he had no clue if his players remembered him after he was taken. Not that it mattered now, they couldn’t remember if they were dead after all.

The only reason that Mumbo was able to get through the firewalls was because of forgetfulness no both the Watchers’ and Grian’s part. Neither had removed Mumbo from the world, so it was surprising that it took Mumbo so long to “meet” Grian.

Grian and Mumbo had been close friends before everything happened. They did build swap together, Grian would break Mumbo’s redstone, Mumbo would try to build. They would help each other, laugh together, think about the strangest things you could think of together, and be normal.

Grian found himself longing for normal again. Wishing that he didn’t have to bind his wings every time he left his bottle, wishing that he could have a proper nest with the scents of his flock in it. Wishing that he could feel the wind in his feathers again, maybe even have them properly preened. Void knows they needed it.

He wished that he didn’t need to keep this part of him a secret. But he needed to, he really didn’t want to be kicked off of the first server that might give him an opportunity to heal.

After talking to Mumbo for just over an hour, it was time for Grian to head back home. As he got up, he stretched out of pure habit, and all the blood drained from his face as he felt something on his back shift.

His bounds had fallen off.

Chapter Text

An Avian’s wings are delicate. When am Avian neglects them, whether it be by over preening, under preening, or binding them, it could seriously effect the Avian’s health.

In a situation where the Avian does not trust anyone around them, they will be unable to properly preen their wings. It is important that an Avian has at least one person who they can trust on a server with them to keep the Avian healthy.

Some side effects of wing neglect include, but are not limited to, infection, muscle atrophy, difficulty flying, discomfort, isolation, lack of appetite and more. For more information on the effects of wing neglect, go to page 327.

To cure wing neglect takes time. An Avian will need to preen regularly to restore the damaged feathers, and they might need supplements to get the wings back to full health. In the case of muscle atrophy, the Avian will need to go through physical therapy tailored to the severity of the situation in order to be able to fly again.

Infections are harder to cure. Potions do little to help, and a more severe infection could lead to wing amputation. If an Avian you know is showing signs of having an infection, it is important that you work fast, as infections could permanently change an Avian, both physically and mentally.

An Admin’s Guide to Hybrids, Version 2

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Grian froze, pulling his wings as close to his back as he could without the bounds. They would still leave a very noticeable lump on his back, but it made him feel better knowing that he was doing everything he could to not get kicked out. He took in a shuddering breath, preparing for the worst.

“Mumbo,” Grian’s voice was almost a whisper. He knew Mumbo wouldn’t care that Grian was an Avian, he definitely hadn’t before the Watchers. Mumbo would probably panic about how bad binding Avian wings were for one’s health, be concerned that Grian hadn’t told him earlier, and not bat an eye at the fact that Grian had parrot wings on his back.

Mumbo seemed to hear the underlying panic in Grian’s voice. “Yes, Grian?” Mumbo kept his tone soft, soothing something in the back of Grian’s mind.

“There’s something about me that you should know.” Grian took a deep, shuddering breath. “I’m an Avian and I’m so sorry that I didn’t tell you I thought you wouldn’t like me because ofthatandIshouldhavetoldyoufromthestarti’msosorry-”

Grian’s frantic ramblings were interrupted by Mumbo wrapping him in a hug.

Mumbo gives nice hugs, Grian thought idly.

Grian melted into the tight embrace of his best friend, trying his best to enjoy it despite the memories flooding his brain of times before Evo, when Grian would wake up from nightmares and Mumbo would hug him until he calmed down.

He missed this.

“Why didn’t you tell me this earlier, Grian?” Mumbo whispered, cutting the moment of peace for Grian short.

“I thought that you’d be mad at me for being an Avian” Grian mumbled into Mumbo’s suit jacket, his featherbrain enjoying how close he was to his friend. Someone who used to be flock.

“Mate,” Mumbo pulled away from the hug, causing a needy trill to be bitten down by Grian. Mumbo put his hands on Grian’s shoulders as he talked. “Why would I be mad at you for something you can’t control? I’m more upset that you didn’t think you could trust me with this before.”

Grian felt a tear fall down his cheek. “I-I’ve been keeping my wings bound,” he whispered.

Mumbo paused. “Isn’t that bad for you? Won’t your wings get infected? What about muscle atrophy? Have your wings been preened recently? Doesn’t that hurt-”

“Mumbo.” Grian took a deep breath. “Yes, I have been neglecting my wings’ health. No, I didn’t let it get to the point that it could cause irreversible damage that I know of. I’m more worried about the Hermits’ reaction to this than I am my wings at the moment.”

“You’re more worried about the Hermits’ reaction than your own health?” Mumbo’s volume was steadily increasing the more frustrated he got. “They are the most welcoming people out there, and you’re more worried about their thoughts than you are your own health and safety-”

“I know, it was a dumb decision, but you know now! I can stop hiding around you! You can help me get better, and everything will be better!” Grian gestured wildly with his hands as he spoke.

“Are- Are your wings still bound?”

“No, the bounds fell off when I got up, why?”

Mumbo fidgeted with his spindly fingers. “Just, isn’t it better for you to have them out instead of keeping them trapped?”

Grian hesitated. Yes, it was better for him to have his wings out, but was he ready to show Mumbo his wings when Mumbo didn’t remember Grian from before?

“Can- can you preen my wings for me?” Grian whispered. He was almost sure that Mumbo hadn’t heard him with the way that he didn’t react to the question.

“Isn’t that a very intimate thing?”

“I trust you, Mumbo.”

That was how Grian found himself on Mumbo’s living room floor, hugging a pillow to his chest, wings out, with Mumbo sitting behind him. Grian was giving the man a crash course on wing care, knowing that Mumbo probably still had muscle memory from before.

Mumbo was gentle with the preening, trying to not hurt Grian.

Grian could tell from how his wings felt that they were a mess. Every touch burned his already sensitive skin, and he could hear more feathers fall off his wings than what would be considered healthy.

Grian felt himself loosen up as his wings were preened. A happy trill bubbled up in his throat, but he did his best to keep quiet. He was succeeding, until Mumbo got one spot that had been bothering Grian for weeks, and he couldn’t keep his instincts quiet anymore.

The happy trill let itself out on it’s own accord, and Grian slumped even further onto the pillow.
Mumbo’s hands froze where they were in Grian’s wings. How dare flock stop? Wait a minute, when was Mumbo considered flock again? Grian had de-flocked while he was with the Watchers, why were his instincts flaring up again?

Mumbo resumed, and so did Grian’s instincts, much to the Avian’s dismay. How dare his code betray him like this.

Grian felt his eyes begin to flutter shut, the feelings of flock and safe overwhelming his brain.

He must have fallen asleep, because the next thing he knew, Mumbo was franticly shaking him awake, saying something about blood and infections. It was too early for this. Grian needed more sleep, he could see what Mumbo was saying later.

Hold on, blood? When did that happen? Was Grian bleeding? What was going on?

“What’s up, Mumbo?” Grian slurred slightly. Sleepy brain.

“So, I was preening your wings, just like you taught me how, and I got to the base of them and when I started to preen them they started to bleed and it looks like they might be infected and I don’t know what to do!” Wow. Mumbo talked fast when he was stressed.

“So, let me get this straight, you were preening, my wings started to bleed, and you think they might be infected?”

“Yes! And I don’t know if I should call Xisuma, I don’t know if he would even be able to help in this situation, is that something they teach at the Admin Academy? That’s beside the point, but I know enough to know that if this is an infection it could be fatal if left untreated! And knowing you, you’re probably going to let it go untreated unless someone else gets you to have it treated and that can never be good for your health and I don’t know what to do-”

“Mumbo. Take a deep breath,” Grian took an exaggerated breath for Mumbo to follow. “I’ll be okay, I promise. Yes, they do teach Admins how to treat wing infections when they’re in school, and yes, that means you can call Xisuma. Don’t worry about me.”

The only reason that Grian was letting Mumbo call Xisuma was because he remembered how panicked he was when he found out that one of his players had been hiding an infection from him. The guilt would be more painful than the infection if he didn’t let Mumbo call his Admin.

Grian and Mumbo fell into an awkward silence as they waited for the Admin to arrive, only broken by the steady tick of the click on a wall. Grian ended up counting the number of chests in the room, and Mumbo wouldn’t stop fidgeting with his moustache.

“So,” Mumbo started. “How are you going to tell the others?”

Grian was about to answer when the sound of a fist on the door interrupted him.

Xisuma was here, and Grian didn’t know if Mumbo told the Admin about Grian’s wings.

Chapter Text

Mumbo quickly got up and checked the door, looking through the door viewer to see who was there before opening the door. Xisuma stood on the other side of the threshold for a split second before breaking the silence that had fallen over the group.

“You said it was urgent?” Xisuma asked Mumbo, concern lacing his voice.

Mumbo ushered the Admin into the living room, and Grian could hear the sharp intake of breath from across the room.

Stay calm, Grian.

Stay calm.

It’s okay.

He’s most likely not going to kick you out.

It’ll be fine.

… Right?

He heard the shifting of someone sitting down behind him, before he heard Xisuma’s voice where he must’ve sat down.

“May I touch you wings? I promise I’ll be careful.”

As much as his featherbrain hated it, Grian had to nod. He’d been an Admin once, he knew if he said no things would be much more difficult for everyone involved.

He felt gentle hands touch the base of his left wing, before repositioning it so it was more stretched out. The limb ached at the sudden movement compared to how still it had been for a month.

Grian sucked in a breath and held the pillow closer to his body, trying to get some semblance of comfort.

“Okay, it’s not good. Mumbo, can you get me some soapy water?”

Mumbo made a noise of agreement and quickly left the room.

“Your covert feathers are really messed up. A few of your primaries must have been pulled by your bounds at some point, allowing an infection.” Xisuma said as he gently moved Grian’s wings.

Logically, Grian knew what that meant for him from his Admin training. But some part of him was unsure about what the infection would mean for him and his daily life.

“Is there anything you can do about it?”

“It’s infected enough that it’s not guaranteed that you’ll have a full recovery, but I’ll do what I can.”

Grian buried his face into the pillow and did his best to relax, despite how his featherbrain protested at the unwelcome contact.

Mumbo walked into the room carrying a bucket of soapy water and a clean light blue rag, hands shaking.

The mustached man handed the Admin the water before leaving, claiming that Grian should have some space for this. Grian was less than happy about this, his instincts mad that his flock has left, but he didn’t comment on it.

Grian felt the damp cloth on the base of his wings, and every part of his featherbrain screamed at someone who was not flock touching his wings.

He heard Xisuma sifting through his bag and opening a bottle of something. The question of what was in the bottle was answered when the sharp scent of saline filled the room.

“This might sting, but staying still will make it easier for everyone.” Xisuma kept his tone soft like he was talking to a toddler.

Grian was barely able to nod before a sharp, cold sting shot into his wing. He squeezed the pillow closer to him in a desperate attempt to keep his wings still.

It went on like this for what felt like hours, but the clock on the wall told him that it had only been a few minutes. Finally, Xisuma was done. A soft bandage was wrapped around the base of his wings, and the Admin had advised him to stop wearing his bounds for the time being.

That naturally lead to some questions to needing to be voiced.

“Why were you keeping them secret if it was hurting you?” Xisuma sat across from Grian on the floor, tone gentle.

Grian stiffened. “I… I don’t know. I guess I thought I’d be kicked out, since most people think Avians, or just Hybrids in general, are mindless monsters that deserve to die.”

“Why did you keep them hidden even after you saw that most of the server consists of Hybrids?”

Grian took a deep breath. If he was being honest, he had no clue why he didn’t tell anybody. It might’ve been how long he’d been without others, or maybe it was the fear that someone would recognize the dull grey of his feathers as a side effect of the Void and ask questions that the answer was something that no sane person would like. It could’ve been how seeing grey instead of reds and blues in his peripheral reminded him of what- no, who he didn’t have anymore.

“I guess I was worried,” Was all Grian responded with. It wasn’t the whole story, but nobody needed to know about what couldn’t be changed.

Xisuma nodded. “I don’t know nearly enough to properly help you with the infection, what I did will work, but they stopped teaching about Hybrids at the Academy a while ago. I would recommend reaching out to Doc, he should be able to help you get back to where you can fly and live life normally again.”

Now Grian felt old. He’d gone to the Academy long before they stopped teaching about Hybrids, but the only reason he was younger than Xisuma was the code of Evo. It started about two centuries ago, but the way they traveled through time made everything involving aging unnatural. Only two years had passed for the Evolutionists, while a century passed for everyone else. That on top of his time in the Void, where any kind of time didn’t exist, made Grian far older yet younger than the Hermits.

He ended up just nodding, trying to ignore how the original comment made him feel.

That night, Grian ended up sleeping on Mumbo’s couch, thoughts of his age haunting his very existence.

Chapter Text

The next morning, Grian woke to the scent of pancakes and bacon coming from the kitchen. He was intending to stay on the couch until he was told that breakfast was done, but a growl from his stomach changed his plans.

Grian pulled himself off of the couch and dragged himself into the kitchen, where he promptly slumped onto a chair with all the grace of a sleep-deprived teenager.

Mumbo chuckled, and all Grian could think of was the times before Evo, when he would hang out on Mumbo’s redstone world and the mustached man would make breakfast. Not that he’d tell Mumbo that, of course. It was best that nobody knew how he’d failed as an Admin, as a friend, as a brother.

“How’d you sleep?” Mumbo ruffled Grian’s hair, and the Avian lightly smacked his hand in retaliation.

Grian grumbled something along the lines of ‘fine’, and devoured the food that was placed in front of him, realizing that he hadn’t eaten dinner the night before.

Mumbo sat down at the table with his own food, and the two fell into a comfortable silence. That was, of course, until Mumbo ended up breaking it.

“How are you feeling?” Mumbo seemed nervous, why was he nervous?

“A bit better, why?” Grian mumbled.

“It’s just that… I think we should call Doc. He knows a lot more about medical stuff, and what if the infection is really bad? I read a book last night that said wing infections could be deadly for an Avian, and I really don’t want you to die-”

“Mumbo,” Grian grabbed his friend’s hands to keep them from shaking. “I really don’t need help. It’s okay. I’m okay.”

“But you aren’t! Your wings are a mess, and I doubt that you have been caring for them properly, and knowing you, you won’t ask for help even if you’re dying!”

Grian took a deep breath. Mumbo wasn’t wrong, after all. Grian probably wouldn’t’ve asked for help if he was dying, but did he need to point it out?

Yes, some traitorous part of him whispered. Yes he did.

“Fine. You can call Doc-”

“Yes!”

“-on one condition. He cannot tell anybody about this. Okay?”

Mumbo nodded enthusiastically, before running off to grab his comm.

What had Grian gotten himself into?

---------

When Doc walked into the room, Grian was reminded of just how short he was compared to the Creeper.

Saying Doc was tall would be an understatement. Grian was probably two thirds of his height, and that combined with the cybernetics, Doc was intimidating.

The Creeper’s eyes lingered on Grian’s wings, and for a terrifying moment, Grian thought that he’d been found out.

Doc’s red eye seemed to pierce through Grian’s soul. Some part of him wanted to know how the Creeper had gotten the cybernetics. What was powerful enough that respawn itself couldn’t fix the wounds it caused?

Grian’s mind imminently thought of the Watchers. Respawn wouldn’t be able to do anything about the scars left on him, even when they were just wounds and hadn’t healed.

If Doc had first-hand experience with the Watchers, Grian was doomed.

“So,” Doc’s voice was deeper than Grian was expecting. “You might have an infection?”

“I do have an infection,” The Avian corrected.

Doc nodded, before crossing the room in three large strides and crouching behind Grian.

“I’m not going to touch your wings if you don’t want me to,” The Creeper started. “I’m a Hybrid too, I get it.”

Grian nodded numbly. Anything to get this over with as quickly as possible.

Doc seemed to take that as a go-ahead, and Grian felt surprisingly gentle hands undo the bandages on his wings.

The Creeper shuffled through his bag, before pulling out what looked like a Regen potion and putting some of the bottle’s contents onto a cloth. As the potion was gently put on Grian’s skin, the Avian’s mind drifted.

A young Admin stared at one of his players. The player in question had gotten shot by a skeleton and didn’t do anything about the wound, until his friend had noticed he was paler than normal.

The Admin had rushed to help, and was currently in the middle of wrapping up the cut and lecturing the player on the importance of self-care.

“You have to tell someone when something like this happens,” The Admin had said. “Something like this could be fatal if you ignore it for too long.”

“I didn’t want to bother anyone.” The player had whispered.

“You wouldn’t’ve bothered anyone, Tim.”

“Yes, I would’ve. I’m keeping you away from the code as we speak, and I know how important it is to you to check it regularly.”

“Tim,” The Admin finished wrapping the cut and made the Player look at him. “Your life is more important than a bug making ghost chickens a reality. Remember that, okay?”

Hypocrite, some part of Grian’s mind whispered.

“All done,” Doc said. “I put on an ointment that shouldn’t irritate your feathers, and I wrapped it up so there shouldn’t be any disturbed feathers when the bandages are changed. I would recommend getting someone to change them every other day for a week or two, and then going easy on your wings, but other than that, you’re all set!”

“Thank you, Doc, it means a lot to me.”

When Doc was halfway out the door, he turned around.

“My lips are sealed,” If that wasn’t foreboding, he didn’t know what was. “But I’d recommend telling the others. I promise that nobody will be mad about it.”

Everyone seemed to tell him that, and Grian wanted to believe them. He wanted to believe that everything would be fine, but something told him that telling the others would get him into a situation he wouldn’t be able to get out of on his own.

After all, he was a Watcher. The Collective would be looking for him, and they always got their way.

There was nothing Grian could do to change that.

Chapter Text

“Well,” Mumbo started. “How’d it go?”

Grian and Mumbo were currently locked in an intense game of chess that the Avian was failing miserably at. Not that he’d admit to failure, of course.

“It was good,” Grian shrugged. “Doc said I should tell the others.”

Mumbo captured Grian’s Bishop with his knight. “Check. Are you going to tell anyone?”

Grian stared at the board for a moment. How dare Mumbo be good at this game. “I’ll think about it.”

By the time Grian had lost the game was finished, the sun was almost touching the Western horizon, pink clouds dotting the sky as the birds sang their hello to the moon.

It was, as some might say, peaceful.

But then Scar happened.

The Vex tumbled out of the sky like a foal learning how to walk with a ripped Elytra strapped to his back.

He must’ve not been flying very high, because he was lying on Mumbo’s front yard, staring at the sky like it was responsible for his mistake.

Grian scrambled away from the window, doing his best not to be spotted. Grian had let everyone who knew find out about his wings find out using his free will. Letting Scar know would be admitting that Grian was gaining trust for these Hermits.

The thought terrified him.

“Mumbo,” Grian called to his tall friend, who poked his head out from behind the wall separating the living room and the kitchen. “Scar’s out front, looks like his Elytra broke. You might want to help him out.”

Mumbo chuckled fondly and made his way to the door. “You can head to the back if you don’t want him to know.”

Grian nodded numbly and shuffled to Mumbo’s workshop space thing. Grian didn’t actually know what the room was originally intended for, but it looked to be a mix between a storage system and failed redstone projects.

There were bits of redstone everywhere, and Grian was mildly intimidated. He heard the sound of voices coming from the other room, and he was grateful that he didn’t need to explain to Scar.

Grian would’ve settled to fiddle with some of Mumbo’s wood, but a button caught his attention.

He knew he probably shouldn’t touch it, but the way it glared at him was too beautiful to ignore.

In other words, Grian pressed the button.

At first, nothing seemed to happen. Then, the machine let out a sickening groan, and the familiar hiss of TNT being lighted filled the room.

Oh no.

Grian scrambled back and narrowly avoided the explosion, but unfortunately for him, he backed into the door that hadn’t been shut properly, leading him right into the living room.

Oh no.

Grian slowly turned around to see Mumbo trying and almost failing to hold back his laughter, and a look of pure, unfiltered shock on Scar’s face.

“Hi?” Another round of TNT exploded behind Grian. What an entrance.

Scar blinked at him as his eyes drifted behind Grian.

“Since when was that there?” The Vex asked.

“The explosion happened about thirty seconds ago,” Grian deflected.

“You know that’s not what I was asking about,”

Grian bit his lip. “I’ve had my wings since I was fourteen?”

“Neat,” Scar said. “Are you going to tell the others?”

There was no avoiding it now, was there? The Hermits would find out whether Grian told them or not, and this conversation proved that wonderfully.

After all, they’d start getting suspicious about how Grian hadn’t seen anyone for the past few days, and there was no way they wouldn’t notice his disappearance after a week of hiding.

Grian couldn’t live like this.

“I don’t know how,” Grian whispered. “How do you tell the people who welcomed you with open arms that you’ve been keeping a huge part of yourself secret from them?”

“You just go ahead and tell them,” Scar shrugged. “I promise you nobody will be upset at you for being an Avian.”

“Are you absolutely sure?”

“Positive.”

“I can see if Xisuma can schedule a meeting soon,” Mumbo suggested.

-------

Grian stared out the window at the moon that reminded him so much of his sister.

That was that then. Grian would tell the Hermits one of his closest kept secrets. Maybe he finally found a home where he could be himself after all those years alone.

Maybe, just maybe, he could learn to trust again. Be part of something again, be happy again.

He smiled softly. While he would always cherish his memories of Evo, it was time to make new memories.

And maybe he was delusional, but Grian could’ve sworn the moon shone a bit brighter that night.

The Evolutionists would be proud of him.

Chapter Text

Grian paced around the living room, and he was almost convinced that his feet would wear holes into the floor with how much he was walking. The meeting had been scheduled for today, and the Avian wasn’t sure that he was ready.

All of the trust that he’d been building up with the Hermits had come crumbling down the moment any strain was put onto it. That summarized Grian perfectly in his opinion.

The Avian’s breathing quickened with his strides, and he had half a mind to tell Mumbo he wouldn’t be able to go to the meeting. But he had to. The meeting was about him, after all.

How was he supposed to tell them? ‘Hey guys! I just thought you should know that I have two extra limbs that had their color drained out of them by the Void itself! Why was I in the Void, you ask? Well, I used to be the Admin of this famous server called Evolution SMP, and the Watchers decided to abduct me like the aliens they are, then they tried to turn me into one of them, don’t think about it too hard, I don’t want your pity. But yeah, while I was there my wings lost all their color! Any more questions?’

Nope, that wouldn’t work. Back to the drawing board it was then.

Grian went through hundreds of scenarios in his head before settling on one that should work.

Hopefully, if all went well, he would be able to stay on Hermitcraft.

“You ready G?” Mumbo broke Grian from his downward spiral of what-if’s.

“Physically, yes. Emotionally, no.” Grian ran his hand through his hair in a desperate attempt to calm down.

“We can always cancel if you’re not feeling up to-”

“No. I’m doing this today, or it will never get done.”

“Are you sure?”

Grian swallowed his pride and nodded.

------

Grian paced around his office, glitched out screens of code floating and flickering around him.

This was it then, he had failed as an Admin, and now he didn’t know what was going to happen to the Evolutionists.

The Watchers had locked Grian out of his own code, his hard work, and he didn’t know what they had planned for him or the others. They could die at the Watchers’ hands, and there was nothing Grian could do about it.

How was he supposed to tell the others? He wouldn’t blame them if they got mad, it was his fault after all.

Grian should never have gotten into being an Admin, and now he was in a situation that nobody could get him out of.

And it was all his fault.

------

Grian sat at the meeting table, Mumbo and Xisuma either side of him. The Admin was, as to be expected, calm despite the situation. But, if X was anything like Grian as the Admin at a meeting, the calmness was a façade for the inner turmoil boiling beneath his skin.

Mumbo was fiddling with his moustache in the way the Avian had come to associate with nervousness, and Grian himself was picking at his nails in an attempt to calm his racing heart.

The first to arrive was Bdubs, who stared behind Grian for a moment with a look of pure shock and confusion before sitting down and striking up a conversation with Xisuma.

Etho arrived shortly after, and he was slightly better at hiding his surprise than his companion.

The Hermits all arrived in the span of five minutes after this, and while they all looked confused, none of them commented on it.

Grian chewed his lip, leg bouncing under the table. What if they didn’t want him here? What if they were mad because Grian lied to them? What if someone recognized the color of his wings and he’d have to explain that he was a Watcher and then they’d kick him out because Watchers were dangerous beings capable of destroying a server with ease-

“Is everybody here?” Xisuma asked the small crowd that had gathered.

There were general sounds of agreement, and Xisuma met Grian’s eyes.

This was it then. The Hermits already knew that he was an Avian at this point, but now it was time to see how they took the information.

The Avian nodded and grabbed Mumbo’s hand under the table.

—-

Grian stood over the End Portal with the Evolutionists, preparing himself to fight the Dragon.

“Is everybody ready?”

The Evolutionists cheered, and Grian couldn’t fight the smile that spread across his face as he jumped.
This was it.

—-

“As you all probably know by now, Grian, our newest member, is an Avian. I know that this server is generally Hybrid friendly, but if anyone has any issues with this new information, please inform me privately. Any questions?”

There was silence for a moment, and then Grian’s worst fear happened.

“If he’s an Avian,” A guy dressed in shiny armor started, “Why is he still on the server?”

Mumbo squeezed Grian’s hand a bit tighter.

——

When Grian opened his eyes, he was shocked to find that he was alone in the End.

Were the others alone too? Grian didn’t know if they could defeat the Dragon and get away unscathed.

The whole time he fought, the Admin could’ve sworn he felt eyes watching him. But when he looked around, there was nothing looking at him.

Grian took a deep breath once he had defeated the Dragon, and jumped back into the Portal.

He couldn’t wait to see his friends again.

—-

“I beg your pardon?” A slime Hybrid looked genuinely offended by this.

The knight seemed to shrink a bit, but he hid it well. “It’s just that Avians are known to be dangerous, even for Hybrids. Isn’t having one on the server a bit… Unsafe?”

“If we’re discriminating against dangerous Hybrids, I’ll see myself to the door.” Doc stood up and began to cross the room.

“Wait!” The knight seemed to understand the meaning of his words. “I didn’t mean it against you, it’s just…”

“Just what?” A zombie Hybrid stood up. “It’s what, Wels?”

“Avians are known to take over by force, and…”

“And what?” Doc moved to stand next to Grian, placing his flesh hand on the Avian’s shoulder. “I’ve met with Grian in private before, and he did nothing to imply that he wanted to take over the server. Quite the opposite, actually.”

The slime Hybrid from a few moments ago looked horrified. This was it. Grian was going to be kicked off of Hermitcraft for just the reason he was expecting. He’d go back to living on his creative world, where he could have his wings out as much as he pleased, and nobody would judge him for it.

He could only imagine the Hermits’ reaction to him being a Watcher.

“As I stated earlier,” Xisuma used the tone of an Admin whose players had just broke a major rule. “If you have any problems, you can inform me privately. Wels, I’d like to speak to you outside for a moment.” Xisuma stood up and walked out, Wels following behind him.

—-

The Watchers towered over Grian as he floated in the Void. He couldn’t quite recall what they had told him or how he responded, but there was one part of the interaction that he remembered vividly.

They had threatened to hurt Pearl, Grian’s sister. That was the Avian’s breaking point, and he had ultimately joined the Collective.

The Watchers had, for some strange reason, let Grian say goodbye to his sister.

He pulled Pearl into a tight hug as she cried.

“I’m so sorry,” Grian did his best to not cry as he buried his face in her hair for what could easily be the last time. “I love you, Pearl. I’m so sorry.”

“Griba,” Pearl’s voice was shaking, and Grian held her closer as she clung to her brother for the last time.

—-

“I’m sorry about Wels,” Jevin walked over, looking genuinely apologetic. “He had a bad experience with Avians when he was a kid, and it’s followed him all his life. It’s nothing to do with you, I’m sure he’d love to get to know you.”

“If me being here makes him uncomfortable,” Grian took a deep breath. “I could always leave. I don’t want anyone to feel unsafe just because I’m here.”

“No! No, it’s nothing like that! Wels just isn’t that good with words at times,”

“You sure?” Grian was still convinced that Xisuma would come out in a few minutes to tell Grian he needed to leave Hermitcraft, and the Avian would understand. He’d the same thing in the Admin’s position.

“Absolutely.”

—-

“You made the right decision, Xelqua.” The Watchers dragged Grian away from his crying sister, and he did the only thing he could think of to comfort her.

He smiled softly at Pearl. Grian didn’t want his little sister’s last memory of her brother to be him in pain. He would rather die than make Pearl go through that.

If only he had told the others.

If only the trust he had in his players wasn’t fake.

——

“Hey,” Mumbo said. “You’re not going to get kicked out, okay? It’s not your fault, never has been, never will be. Got it?”

No. He did not get it in any way, shape, or form. That fact did not stop Grian from nodding.

A few more of the Hermits comforted Grian as he did his best to act like he understood that they wouldn’t ban him. In reality, Grian was 80 percent sure he wouldn’t be on Hermitcraft in a week.

When Xisuma and Wels came back in, the room went dead silent.

Grian squeezed Mumbo’s hand a bit tighter.

“As I said earlier,” Xisuma started, “Grian will be staying on the server for the foreseeable future. If anyone has any problems with this, please contact me privately. Is there anything else that needs to be discussed?”

The Hermits looked around at each other and shrugged.

“Meeting dismissed.”

The Hermits all stood up at varying times in the next few minutes and made their way out the door, well, all but one.

“I’ll be right outside, okay?” Mumbo pulled Grian into a quick hug before making his way outside, leaving the Avian alone with Wels.

“I’m really sorry-”

“I’m not mad-” They both began to speak at the same time. Embarrassing.

“You go first.” Grian told the knight.

“I’m really sorry about how I reacted. It’s not against you, just…” Wels took a deep breath. “Avians are the reason I became a knight in the first place, and I reacted out of instinct. So… yeah.”

“I’m not mad at you, Avians do have a pretty bad reputation for our behavior.” Grian let out a watery laugh.

Wels extended his gloved hand. “Truce?”

Grian shook the extended hand. “Truce.”

Maybe Grian could learn how to trust. Maybe he could learn how to live.

And maybe, just maybe, Grian could learn how to forgive himself.

Chapter Text

Season seven was coming to an end in a few weeks. Grian had been happily living on Hermitcraft for the last two years, and he had the happy memories to prove it.

With the end of a season came the seemingly endless meetings regarding next season.

“So,” Xisuma started as all the Hermits were gathered to discuss the logistics of season eight. Boring stuff, if you asked Grian. “Regarding next seasons map, I was thinking- Why are you licking your hand?”

Grian looked over, and sure enough, there was Scar licking his hand.

“It feels good,” The Vex shrugged.

There were a few snickers across the room, and Xisuma sighed.

“Anyways, I was thinking we could do our shops at our bases next season so we all get to see each other a bit more. And, that will hopefully prevent wars and chicken-themed vigilantes.”

Mumbo coughed into his fist, making a noise that sounded a lot like ‘Grian’.

“It wasn’t me, it was the man in the chicken costume!” Grian protested when he noticed that everyone was looking at him.

“Whatever you say, G.”

Shortly after this, Grian got distracted thinking about if the earth was flat, then why did the sun rise and set every day?

“Does anybody know someone who would fit in with Hermitcraft?”

Oh. Oh. Xisuma was asking about new members.

Suddenly this meeting became far less boring.

The Avian had been the newest member for over two years now, and he was more than willing to give that title to someone else.

A few names that Grian didn’t recognize were thrown around, but Grian’s blood went cold when Joe said a name that the Avian hadn’t heard in years.

“I feel like Pearlescent Moon would fit in wonderfully, along with her roommate, Gemini Tay.” Grian had completely spaced out before Joe could say who the other person was.

Pearlescent Moon.

That was the name of Grian’s sister, who was supposed to have died a long time ago.

He would know, he was forced to watch the Watchers kill her.

How was she alive? Did this mean the others were alive? Was she like Mumbo in the sense that she didn’t remember him?

What if she joined Hermitcraft?

“What are they like?” Grian hoped Pearl didn’t blame herself for what had happened all those years ago.

It wasn’t her fault.

“I only met Gem briefly, but Pearl was very intelligent for her age, albeit a tad skittish.”

“Define skittish,” Wels said from across the table.

“She was researching the Void and topical amnesia, and didn’t seem to trust me if I didn’t defend every little thing I said, and even then she was hesitant.”

Grian’s blood ran cold. The Void and topical amnesia wasn’t something anyone should be researching, much less Pearl.

Topical amnesia. If Pearl had it, then she probably wouldn’t remember Grian. It wasn’t surprising, considering that Mumbo thought he knew Grian for far less time than he actually did.

Why in the world was Pearl researching the Void? What had happened to the Evolutionists after Grian had left? He obviously couldn’t trust what the Watchers had told him, or Pearl wouldn’t have been brought up at the meeting to be a new member.

What else had the Watchers lied about?

-----

Just over a week later, Xisuma had gathered the Hermits to announce who would be joining them for season eight, if anyone.

Grian’s leg bounced under the table. He might be able to see his sister again.

“So,” Xisuma held a notebook in front of him. “We will have two new members next season, by the names of Pearlescent Moon and Gemini Tay, better known as Pearl and Gem! I hope you all will give them a warm welcome, and remember, we’re leaving this world next week, so I expect everyone to be ready for the world jump this time.”

Everyone not-so-subtly glanced at Mumbo, who awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck.

Next week, Grian was going to see his sister for the first time in years. He was terrified.

But more than that, he was excited.

After all, he’d spent over two years with the Hermits, and while there were moments that he thought he was going to leave, he was happy he didn’t. He had plenty of fond memories to go with each Hermit, and there was nothing he wouldn’t give for them.

He'd let them preen his wings, and had started to open up about his past recently.

And, as much as Grian hated to admit it, he trusted these Hermits more than he trusted himself.

If you had asked him two years ago if he trusted the Hermits, Grian would have lied and said he did.

Now, Grian didn’t need to lie. He knew for a fact that this trust was real.

And that was all he needed, in the end. A little bit of pure, genuine trust had changed his life.