wc: 1378

Steady breath in.

Grian ran his fingers along the walls of the small armory, feeling damp moss under his nails.

Steady breath out.

The walls were well decorated with weapons and trinkets, some labeled and some not, and as he stepped closer, the itch to drag them all off the walls and arm himself in any way possible turned overbearing. Grian squeezed his eyes shut. In, out.

He plucked a sheathed knife off the wall, sliding the blade out to inspect it before slipping it onto his belt. A rather nondescript box sat, dusty, on the corner of a tabletop, and Grian moved the lid to peer inside.

Grenades, a paper settled harmlessly on top read in messy scrawl. Handle carefully.

They were no larger than a strawberry. Grian grabbed six and shoved them into the pouches on his belt, fingers curling nervously around the leather.

A row of shining daggers laid out on a table caught his eye, and slowly, Grian moved closer and traced a hand along the handles. Throwing knives, Grian noted, removing one from the strap and weighing it in his hand. It felt- special, as if it was someone else's.

"Oi!" came Joel's voice, and Grian jumped and whirled. "Those are mine, idiot."

Grian laughed. "They feel specially made," he commented, eyes moving over a carved LS on the bottom of the handle. He tossed it to Joel, who snatched it out of the air. Fits perfectly, Grian thought, watching Joel swing it from the loop on the end.

"They were made for me," Joel answered, moving to slip the dagger back in the strap. "Before I joined the Listeners."

"Really?" Grian asked a bit absentmindedly, scanning the walls for something like a community knife bin. "It's well made."

"It's fae work," Joel told him. "The finest."

"Anyone special make it for you?" Grian teased, shooting a mirthful glance at Joel. To his surprise, Joel's expression turned wistful.

"Yes, actually," Joel said quietly, walking to the door with echoing footsteps. He paused and turned. "We have a lot to lose today," he added, like an afterthought. "But I would rather die then live oppressed. Without my love." His eyes bore into Grian's, rage and something like sorrow swirling in his deep purple eyes. "Whatever problems you have, forget them until after this. Hundreds of lives are relying on us."

The door closed, and Grian's legs crumpled beneath him as he sat and- breathed.

This could be his last day alive.

At least he lived for something greater than him.

Grian took a shuddering breath. Get up, he chastised himself, planting a hand on the table next to him and heaving himself up. Stay strong. At least until tomorrow.

On time, too, because at that moment, Mumbo and Etho walked in, balancing something slightly bulky between them.

"Grian! There you are!" Mumbo greeted cheerfully.

"Hey, Grian," Etho said, tipping his head in a nod.

"Hey, guys," Grian said, warily eyeing the... was that a gun? "What in the world is that?"

"Oh!" Mumbo perked up, lifting his side of the thing and throwing them a bit off balance. "It's a sugar gun!"

Grian massaged his nose bridge. "A... sugar gun."

"He remembered that Watchers can't touch sugar," Etho interjected. "We compressed a bunch of sugar into exploding rounds, and made as many gun things as we could and gave them to the hermits."

"This one's the big one!" Mumbo added. "Has the bigger rounds, so it'll be good for some long range cannon fire, quite simple, really."

Something warm curled around Grian's stomach, and he smiled. "That'll actually be really useful." He stepped forward and laid a careful hand on what seemed to be the barrel, then leveled his gaze straight at Mumbo's eyes. "Be careful, okay?"

"I will," Mumbo confirmed, at the same time Etho said, "Hey, what about me?"

Grian turned his eyes to Etho. "You too, of course," Grian said with a sad smile. "Although I think you can hold up well against them." Inhale, exhale. "Promise if anything goes wrong. Anything. You turn, and run. Promise."

His gaze flicked between Mumbo's wide, round eyes and Etho's narrowed heterochrome ones. Silence. One, two, three-

"I promise," Etho said, voice steady.

"I promise," Mumbo all but squeaked.

Grian let the silence ring heavy, then said, "Then get ready."

He walked through the space between them and out of the room, closing the door behind him.

~~~

"Hermits."

Grian flicked his eyes up to look through his lashes at Xisuma, standing in front of the cluster.

He'd considered taking the responsibility of having the last talk with the hermits before the plan, but finally decided that Xisuma, out of the two of them, would be a better fit. In the back of his mind, Xisuma was the leader, and yeah, he still was. Because the way the hermits stared back at him with eyes full of trust and admiration didn't seem to be something Grian could handle.

"I know a lot has happened recently," Xisuma continued, eyes flitting over the group. "And you all didn't have to be here. You all had the option to return to Hermitcraft. I extend that offer to you again." He was quiet for a few moments. "And for those who do wish to fight, know that this isn't about just helping Grian." Grian thumbed the Staff in his hand, running a nervous finger over the carvings. "He led us here to help others, and we could do just that. So I ask you to move past whatever prejudices you may have, whatever doubts or bitterness, and focus."

"Yes sir!" Cleo shouted, and there was a wave of chuckles.

"Thank you, Cleo," Xisuma said, eyes crinkling. "I know that some of you will not be helping in battle. Your jobs are equally as important, and as guides, you will be vital in keeping us on the right track. As for the fighters, Grian?"

"Right," Grian said, running his tongue over his lips. "Just remember what you've practiced these past weeks. Fight unpredictably, and for your life. It doesn't have to be graceful. And, if there's danger that we have not planned for, then please, get out. Leave. I don't know if we can handle a..." In, out. "A death, on our conscience. If you run, you're not a coward. In fact, I would appreciate that." Breathe. "Stay safe, please. Be strong."

He nodded, leaning back against the table behind him, and Xisuma inhaled.

"Fighters, if you haven't taken sugar guns from Mumbo, please do so now," he said, sounding for all the world like a teacher leading children on a field trip. "Stay alert, stay vigilant, and stay safe. Good luck, friends." His lips tugged upwards in a warm smile, brown curls falling across his brow. "I'll see you all when this is over."

Grian inhaled, hefting his Staff with his left hand and motioned vaguely with the other. "Bdubs, Scar, Hypno..." He scanned the crowd, lips twitching into something more hard set. "Jevin, Impulse, Ren, Stress, and Etho. Come with me."

Behind him came noises of scuffle as the Hermits began to separate, murmurs and quick embraces being exchanged before the group Grian had called began to congregate. Grian's steps were quick, veering towards where he spotted Joel and Xerion talking quietly, Xayla standing silently behind them. The sound of footsteps behind him were a bit of both a reassurance and a gut tearing fear, that he'd lose them, that it'd all go wrong, that...

In, out.

A group of Listeners joined Grian's group, giving nods and resting their hands on the swords at their belt. Grian offered a smile. Probably not reassuring, but it was worth a try.

Joel held out a hand and Grian met it with a clapping sound, giving one shake and letting go and repeating the action with Xerion.

"Good luck," Xerion whispered, and Grian echoed it in agreement.

"Don't die," Joel said, voice a little less sarcastic and leaning on the genuine side, and Grian broke a small smile.

"I'll try my best," Grian said. "You too."

He turned to Xayla, and all she had to offer was a wavering smile and a tight hug. Grian could read each little squeeze: Stay safe. Please be careful. Good luck. 

"It'll be okay," he whispered, and Xayla nodded minutely against his shoulder. When she pulled away, her eyes were wet. 

"See you on the other side," she said hoarsely, and he gave a salute and a cheeky smile in return.

 And with that, they were off, slipping out of the base and owards the surface. There was a rustle of the spreading of feathers and elytras alike, a dozen faces turning towards the sky. Grian breathed.

In, out.

They flew. 

its time.....

had to get the man handshake in there cuz idk like at this point i feel like grian's character has deviated so much from the original personality ive always imagined him as, and honestly i'm kind of okay with it! he's so much more like serious and stuff now but i think that does reflect the heaviness of the situation

i really wish i could go more in depth into like bonding and more hermit specific stuff, but its been go go go go with this story LMAO so yep. just know that theyre all besties <3 and xisuma and xerion and their whole heartfelt reunion and it was great and they love each other yep yep! (mgiht write oneshots on this?)

like i said before, for notifs when i update drop a follow! 

thank you for reading! have a good day or night, wherever you are!

-Ete