The Void's Song.- Desert Duo. (slow updates)

Adjustment.

Grian was having trouble adjusting. Sure, the infinite lives were handy, but he still found himself panicking whenever helping Mumbo fight off a horde of zombies, or whenever his armor broke.

No one else seemed to remember Third Life. Once they lost their final life, it seemed that they all had woken up in their Hermitcraft spawn point, with several months of their life missing from memory. They woke up in weird outfits, battered and torn with no explanation as to why. They were dirty and bruised, but had no idea the cause, so they brushed it off. It didn't take them long to recover, and they all seemed to be fitting right in with the rest of the Hermitcraft server, as if they hadn't just spent almost an entire year in a death game. To them, of course, they hadn't.

Grian remembered though, his dreams were plagued with visions of failed traps, a desert mountain, Scar, a llama that hated him and a bee whose life was too short. It was difficult, re-learning how to be used to the feeling of Netherite armor over the top of a comfy sweater, ginormous bases to mill around in, and infinite resources and lives. He had spent so long with his guard constantly up, always watching his and Scar's backs. It was weird for him to go back to his base alone every day. It was weird when other Hermits looked at him in surprise whenever he used foul language. Scar had occasionally forced him to go outside and scream curses into the sky when they were back in the desert, as a way to release pent up energy, and the habit had grown on him. It was weird for him to wake up cold and lonely in his bed, weird for him to not have to constantly yell at Scar to remind him to put his fucking clothes back on. It was weird, the absence of the desert heat, and the sand that got absolutely everywhere, no matter how hard they tried to get rid of it. It was weird.

Grian tried to socialize with the other hermits, pretending that nothing was wrong. It would be terrible if they asked questions. After all, how was he supposed to respond? He just pretended to be like the others, knowing nothing of a world of which they had all been taken to. Sometimes he got odd looks from Mumbo when he slipped up. He would let slip a joke that the others would never understand, and would try to brush it off as a failed meme. He wasn't often successful at diverting the attention away, but the slip ups were so few and far between, that he was able to hope that no one really paid attention to them. To him.

It had been unnerving when he had first arrived back. He had woken up in his starter base in Boatem, still wearing the well-worn leather jacket that he had acquired on the other server. It was a muted maroon color, which although was less comfortable than his signature sweater, stood out far less, and was much stronger. It allowed him to hide much better, and didn't rip or stain at all. Practically over comfortability. That had been their life.

He had slid the jacket off, running his fingers over the smooth leather before storing it in the chest next to his bed. Weeks later, he was pretty sure that it was still there. He was scared of going back to it. Scared of the memories he would undoubtedly be faced with if he ever dared to touch it. Best to leave it there for now, where no one would see it.

Grian flew over to a small pool of water, sitting down and watching his reflection. He looked... clean. It felt weird. In the desert, they were never properly clean. The only water supply that they ever had was the three buckets of river water that Scar brought up from the base of the mountain every morning. It didn't go very far, but they didn't have enough iron to spare in order to make more, so it had to suffice. Sacrifices were made, in the form of showers. They could have gone down to the river and washed up there, but that left them far too exposed and out in the open for Grian's liking. They allowed themselves a tiny amount of water to rid themselves of blood and dirt, but that was about it. Consequently, the cleanest that he or Scar ever were, was right after they lost a life.