After forty-five minutes of no word, the three of them finally decide that someone should go check on Tango. Normally, Xisuma would have reluctantly advocated for just starting without him—it’s Tango, he’d probably gotten caught up in Decked Out work, he’d apologize and laugh it off later and wouldn’t change—but he’d seemed so genuinely excited this time. He’d rambled back at them the moment Etho had invited him to join in on the wither-mining. He’d promised he’d try to show up. He’d checked the time more than once.
It’s been a while since most of the hermits had seen Tango outside of his fortress. Or spoken to him for more than about twenty minutes if their name wasn’t “Zedaph”. Or—it’s been a while. That man is working himself to death, Xisuma swears.
(It’s… not Tango’s fault, Xisuma tells himself. He’d meant to have more done by now. The whole Empires fiasco had put a damper on that. Tango’s always been the sort to fixate a little on his latest project. Besides, all of the Hermits get caught up. It’s normal to occasionally go a week or two without talking to anyone else. It’s just that it’s starting to hurt a little, to reach out and get...)
(Xisuma will make up a better excuse. It’s why he volunteered to go check on him. Save Tango and Etho a little heartache.)
(Tango had been really excited—but so had Etho.)
It’s a short enough elytra flight to the Deep Frost Citadel. Xisuma takes a deep breath. He’ll probably have to locate Tango and convince him to come up from the outside. That place is a death trap already to half the server, and Tango’s normally in the maintenance tunnels instead of the main body of the cave, which are a death trap in a unique “largely unfit for habitation by anything breathing” way that Tango seems to be the only one who knows how to navigate. He’ll make sure he’s okay, and then…
Xisuma‘a thoughts come to a pause as he approaches. There’s someone else at the Citadel, standing near the base of the hill, just past where the borders of Tango’s snowy base fade into the grassland.
A few minutes of approach later, and it becomes clear it’s Tango. He’s standing oddly, his feet braced and arms unsteadily placed forward like he’s worried he might fall. When Xisuma lights another rocket, he looks up in Xisuma’s direction, but before really catching sight of Xisuma, he turns around and winces, rubbing his eyes repeatedly.
“Hello,” Xisuma says as he lands. Tango turns to—not quite look at him? Tango is looking in the direction of Xisuma, certainly, but isn’t quite looking at Xisuma’s face. Maybe there’s too much glare in Xisuma’s visor today?
“Oh, hey X! How’s it hangin’?” Tango says.
“Oh, you know, I was just here to check on you. You’re a bit late to our demonstration.”
“What?” Tango says. “It’s—of course it has.”
“Did you get caught up?” Xisuma asks. He tries very hard not to sound disappointed.
“I—yeah,” Tango says. “Sorry, I swear I set an alarm, but if you’re here I must be later than I thought.”
“Probably nearly an hour by now.”
“I’ve been—a whole hour? Feels like longer,” mumbles Tango.
“The others agreed to wait if you’re coming, and you’re already outside,” Xisuma says. “We can get over there in a few minutes. It’s not too late. Put on your elytra and—“
“No!” yelps Tango, stepping back, stumbling, and then, eyes wide, looking around like he’s trying to find something. “I mean, uh. Not used to open-air flying right now. I was planning on taking the nether but I ran out of fireproof potions and don’t have the blaze rods to make more, so here I am. I promise I didn’t mean to be late, I just…”
Xisuma has no idea where to start. But. “Tango, you built the nether hub? You know you don’t need fireproof potions to get to the Ancient City we’re using.”
“Haha, yeah,” Tango says, and doesn’t elaborate.
“So I guess you were going to the shopping district, to get more blaze rods and their portal?” Xisuma says.
“Yeah, uh, then I realized I, uh, don’t. Remember how to get there,” Tango says. “And, well, you know how it is. Even when you have permission to leave it’s still kind of daunting!”
His voice goes high and a little squeaky. His eyes, Xisuma realizes, have had a sort of wild fear to them since Xisuma first suggested stepping further than where he’s standing. If Tango had pupils, Xisuma imagines they’d probably be darting. The rest of his facial expression does the work well enough.
Xisuma really doesn’t know where to start.
“And you’ve been stuck here for… nearly an hour?” Xisuma says.
“Yeah. Man, I got permission to leave and everything,” Tango says again, which, okay, very concerning phrasing, Xisuma’s just going to put that away for the time being though, because there are a lot of other things to unpack here. “And like, I wanted to see the Withers and a Warden fight! Who would win, right?”
He still hasn’t moved. As Xisuma’s talked, he’s gotten closer to looking Xisuma in the eyes, but it’s more like he’s very confidently looking at Xisuma’s chin. He keeps squinting and blinking when his eyes aren’t wide with a wild, lost sort of panic.
He’s also still rambling.
“Probably for the best I don’t leave, though. I mean, I held you all up, I’d hate to hold it up further because I got caught up. I can just go back; best to keep doing my duty after all. Sorry about that!”
Tango turns back towards his base, as though making that excuse was the excuse he needed to go back towards safer ground. Maybe another time, Xisuma would have let that be, but the thing is, Tango and Etho had both been so excited, and Xisuma can hear the disappointment in Tango’s voice. He doesn’t want to be making this excuse either. Xisuma has no idea what, but something’s wrong.
(Well, Xisuma has some idea, but while he may be a derp, he’s pretty sure it’s rude to ask someone whether they’ve gone blind, developed agoraphobia, gotten possessed, or multiple of those things at the same time. If someone doesn’t bring it up it’s not Xisuma’s business, right? Right.)
(He’ll just…)
“…no, we want to do this with you,” Xisuma says. “Do you need help getting to the cave we’re doing it in?”
Xisuma can see Tango warring between the pride that stops him from asking for help and whatever it is that had paralyzed him the moment he’d tried to step past his base’s borders. He can see Tango war between how easy it would be to claim he didn’t have time and how much he’d wanted to see the wither mining.
“It’s all going to be underground?” he says.
Weird question. File that away. “Yep! Inside an ancient city!”
“And I got permission to leave,” mutters Tango. “So it’s going to be fine once I actually get there.”
“I can even grab some fireproof potions from Cub’s shop when we’re done,” wheedles Xisuma.
“…fine. Lead the way. Uh, and, if you could hold my hand. It’s… very hard to know where I am outside of my base when it’s so bright,” Tango says, voice a little small, and okay, so a mix of all three. Xisuma really should pry, but he’s got what he came here for, and it’s not really his business, is it? He’s sure Tango’ll work it out in the end. He’s a smart guy.
“Gladly, my friend. Let’s go die to withers sixty times.”
Tango laughs shakily. “Yes, let’s!”
Xisuma laces his fingers around Tango’s hand and, suddenly aware of just how many things there are to trip on, starts walking towards the Ancient City.
Gosh, but this is going to take an hour, isn’t it? He sighs and pulls out his messenger to tell the other two. A thought strikes him.
“You know, next time you have this problem, you should text ahead. You can use text-to-speech, you know.”
Tango barks a laugh, louder this time. “Yeah, sure, that’s going to be on my mind. Yeah. I’ll do that.”
Well, good enough for Xisuma!
They make their way to the Ancient City together.
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Scar lies out under the moon. Mumbo and Grian have fallen asleep in their tents after a long campfire of heckling Mumbo about his middling ukulele skills and Grian about his even worse kazoo skills. (Scar would like to state that his own horn skills were perfect.) They'd planted flowers, they'd spied on the great big square of technology in front of them, and they'd discovered Grian is allergic to sand now, for some reason. It had been fun, and companionable, and not at all like the preamble for anything else.
Unfortunately, Scar has been here before.
On the other side.
And, okay, just because something rhymes with history doesn't mean it's the same thing, right? Unlike last time, this hadn't all started out with secrets and fun experiments and Grian getting unnecessarily miffed about a time machine he really shouldn't have had in the first place. Also, Mumbo is here. And Zedaph, apparently? Scar hasn't put together how Zedaph is involved but if Zedaph is involved it can't be the same concern at all--
--except. Well. It's Doc. And Scar's been on the other side of this before. Both sides. An expert on both sides. He's an expert on aliens now, too! Maybe time travel? Grian's probably more of an expert on time travel but after the whole Rift thing Scar's pretty sure if he asked Grian about it Grian would punch him and like, he'd deserve it, but it'd still hurt, you know? And...
Scar turns some of the lovely, perfect cherry blossom petals over in his hands. They're soft and smooth and also not actually the thing that ended up being a match for Doc at all, except for the trident thing.
Also, Scar still remembers the moon thing from last season. Gosh, between the moon and the Rift and whatever the aliens were Mumbo accidentally angered in season seven that made them all swap places for a bit and--not important. The important part of the moon thing is that Doc had been involved.
Scar doesn't. Hm. It's not that he doesn't trust Doc. He does! He super trusts Doc! He also super trusts Grian! They're his pals! His buddies! His comrades-in-arms! Also, Mumbo's here, and if that's not a trustworthy mustache, Scar doesn't know what is, and--
--and--
Scar has been on the other side of this before.
A dragon roars above the flagpole.
...it's probably fine. He's making up shadows to worry about. He didn't used to do that, you know! Probably didn't have as many shadows to be worried about, honestly, but hey, that's all a part of hanging out with his buddies! He'll just stay out here and sleep with one eye open and his bow by his side. He's ready to be a fool every night but the one it matters, right?
He licks his lips nervously and falls asleep thinking about the cyclical nature of stories.
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