Woo! It's been a while (like three days), but we're back! I've done some MAJOR planning, so buckle up because I have p l a n s!

Plans are something I did not have before.

Stars help--

Chapter Twenty... wow. I'm getting severe deja vu from when I hit chapter twenty in my original story... hm.

Anyways! I apologize for the wait, but let's just jump into it.

WC: ~840

Enjoy!

Grian smiled to himself. He had shot Mumbo a message saying that he was heading up to the surface for a bit. In reality, he just didn't want to go back. Not to the bittersweet aura of Doc and the confused but bold air that Mumbo carried. 

That was something else Grian noticed about the Hermits. Not only did they all look at him weirdly, but they all carried an indescribable feeling with them. It wasn't just emotion, no. It was like the colors, the consistency, the feeling of the emotions. 

Doc, for one, radiated shades of vibrant purple and sunny yellow. The air around him almost felt thick, Grian couldn't explain it. It was the most bizarre feeling.

And, most importantly, it all started after he had escaped from the glitchy mindspace.

That place was like another realm. Grian had gotten a headache when he broke free of it, but figured that it was because he was actively using the energy stored in his head. But no. It was because of the swirl of colors coming off of Mumbo.

He hadn't noticed them at first. Too much stress and worry. But looking back... they were everywhere. Shades of pink and red and yellow and blue and green and more. But, oddly enough, none of it was coming off Xisuma. 

Nothing. 

Grian had never felt more confused. 

How was it that Mumbo gave an entire rainbow of aura-colors, when Xisuma gave nothing?

And what were the colors?

I love colors, but why are they everywhere?

The next few seconds were a blur.

Grian was weightless for a second. Air rushed past him, heat flew it, and it was all over before Grian could figure out what was happening. 

Grian looked down only to see himself dangling over a lava lake. 

Panic filled his entire body at the sight of the bubbly hot liquid no more than ten blocks beneath his feet. Grian looked up to see he had fallen into a pit of some sort, and had only survived because the back of his shirt had caught on something that Grian couldn't see.

Perfect. Just.

Perfect.

Grian tried to unfurl his wings, but there wasn't enough room. He considered calling out for help, until-

"Need help?" 

Grian tried to turn to the voice, but couldn't see the speaker. The voice was familiar, but Grian wasn't sure where he had heard it. 

"That would be appreciated," Grian mumbled, giving up. Strong arms pulled him up, and Grian found himself standing on solid ground facing a zombie. No, not a zombie. 

A zombie with a suppressed amused expression, flaming red hair, and torn clothing. 

What.

"I'm Cleo," she said, extending a hand. Grian hesitated for a second, then shook it. "'Zombie' Cleo. I'm sure you can see where that came from." Grian let out a small chuckle.

"Yeah," he agreed. "I'm Grian, but I think you already knew that." Cleo nodded.

"I'm pretty sure everyone on the server knows your name," Cleo pointed out. "It's not every day we get a Watcher on our land." Grian fought back a wince. 

"Why are you so... comfortable around me?" the Watcher couldn't help but ask. Cleo raised an eyebrow and shrugged.

"You haven't tried to kill me yet, so I'd call that a plus," Cleo offered. Yet, Grian couldn't help but notice the word. Of course it's a 'yet'. Cleo then started to walk away. Grian stood still, until Cleo glanced back and made a 'Ya coming?' face. The Watcher, embarrassed, hurried to keep up. 

"Erm, where are we going?" Grian asked, ignoring the shades of aqua that Cleo was surrounded by. 

"You must be in the caves for a reason," Cleo replied, avoiding Grian's question. "Why are you here alone?" 

"Mumbo and I were caving together," Grian started after a moment of hesitation. "And we stumbled across Doc. I didn't want to deal with him, so I told Mumbo I was heading to the surface, and I left." Cleo sighed, then stopped walking.

"You might have to get used to Doc acting cold around you," the zombie warned. "He suffered the most from the Watchers." Grian blinked, intrigued. 

"What do you mean?" he pressed. 

"Okay, imagine for a second that... Mumbo, Iskall, Xisuma, and Stress aren't Hermits," she began, surprising Grian with the odd analogy. 

"Let's pretend those four are close friends of yours. Mostly Mumbo, Iskall, and Xisuma, but you get along with Stress just fine. Now, let's imagine that the Hermits, as a group, stole Mumbo, Iskall, and Xisuma." Grian's eyes widened at the sudden 'tragedy'. 

"You don't know if they're dead or alive, but if they are alive, they're probably being tortured or something. Then, you find out that Stress is friends with me. Someone involved with their capture and possible death. I think he has a right to be mad, don't you think?"

Grian was speechless.

"But that's just an analogy," Grian pointed out. "Right?" Cleo winced.

"If you just sub in names, it's reality," she said quietly, sending shivers up Grian's spine. 

I guess I understand him now...

So...

Why are some Hermits giving me a chance?

A chance...

That I don't deserve.

Hehe. 

-Storm