Chapter Text
It's warm. Comfy.
Grian sighed happily. The world was perfect right now. Dim, warm, cozy, blanket wrapped around him in the best of ways, his wings still feeling fresh from his preening last night, hair smelling of his shampoo. Oh, this was incredible, he should really try to do this all the time. At first, the impatient child in him didn't want to go to bed early, he wanted to stay up and work on his projects even while the exhaustion tugged on him and turned gravity oh so difficult to withstand. Now however, he felt like he was in the aether, and it was great.
Grian lolled in the bed, like a baby deer in the fresh spring grass, and that thought made him giggle. It was rare that he felt good, usually his senses betrayed him, aching and itching and complaining when nothing was really wrong, just not exactly what he wanted. Nights spent awake because his blanket was just a little bit too sweaty, discomfort clinging to him like the cold grips of the night. This was like he was climbing the stairwell to the aether, little birdies chirping the most beautiful hymn, harps playing somewhere he couldn't see.
The sun rose and Grian wasn't hurried about leaving the bed. He just enjoyed the comfort for a moment, that satisfying feeling that everything was just right. Only when the sun was high enough, rays of light able to tickle his nose through the window, did Grian push himself into a seated position and yawned. That was brilliant. He was a little sad that he had to get up now, but somehow, he felt more refreshed than he had in the last three years, so maybe it wasn't that big of a deal. Working today would be fun, the sun was already warm and when Grian opened a window, the air smelled of pollen and flowers and just- it was buzzing with life so pleasantly, in a way Grian hadn't experienced before.
With a smile, he walked over to his wardrobe. One of the doors had a mirror and usually, Grian wasn't too fond of seeing himself without proper clothing, but today he stopped and dared to take a peek. His mop of hair was messy, pupils blown wider than they would be once he left his house, and besides that, he looked- good? Appealing. Which wasn't something Grian thought often, because he wasn't his own type, but today he could acknowledge that he was squishy and cute and something about that made him happier still. Like a fountain of warmth bubbling inside him, filling him up to the top, and it was really nice.
He opened the door eventually, after realizing that he was definitely staring at himself. Here he hung up his collection of red sweaters, one for every day of the week and perhaps a few to spare. He liked not having to make decisions in the morning. Though another part of the wardrobe held a few different outfits he accumulated over the years.
Grian had never noticed the distinct smell of spruce when he opened the wardrobe, but it wasn't unpleasant. It felt like he was sprawling through a spruce forest, like he could feel the soft needles give his body a bit of bounce with every step, the wind in his hair barely caught by the trees around.
Of course, Grian grabbed a sweater from the clothes rail, it too carrying the distinct smell of spruce and washing powder, but before he could pull it over his head, something caught his eye. Confused, Grian examined the fabric in his hands. There wasn't any holes. Did he hold it the wrong way around? He twisted the sweater to the other side, but there wasn't any holes here either. Where his wings were meant to go in, he only found more fabric, seemingly untouched. So the holes weren't sewn shut then, for a prank perhaps. Did someone put in the effort to steal his sweaters and replace them with identical ones, just missing the holes?
What a weird prank, Grian decided and hung the sweater back up. Someone must have snuck into his house, stole one of his sweaters, made replicas and then snuck in again to change them out. And for what? They weren't even here to see his reaction.
But he was in too much of a good mood to allow it to occupy his thoughts for more than a few moments. He just shrugged and brushed his hand past the other sweaters, just to make sure that the others didn't have holes. He'd rather not cut holes into them himself, because if he brought these to Cleo, she could make some proper holes that wouldn't tear the fabric, and he could have a whole other set of his favorite clothing piece.
Today was the weather for a short-sleeved shirt anyway.
But when he went to pick one of those up from the other part of his wardrobe, they also lacked holes. Which now seemed ridiculous in a way. They didn't just swap out his sweaters, but everything? Who would commit so much to a silly prank they wouldn't get to see the result of?
Well, jokes on whoever it was, because Grian had no inhibitions about cutting holes into this shirt. He didn't even know half of the clothes on this side, or didn't remember them, anyway. Though his eyes did fall on his gems, put up on this side's clothes rail. A red dress, a suit in a similar color. A guinea pig costume. Grian remembered how shamelessly Xisuma had abused his guinea pig service to throw him at the phantoms.
He shook off the memories with a small smile, grabbed a pair of pants and some socks and then went to fetch a pair of scissors. There was avian-specific clothes he could buy, but he always preferred getting to pick clothes he wanted and just asking Cleo or another hermit good at sewing to change them for him. Eventually, he should really ask her to teach him, so he wouldn't have to bother her anymore.
Two holes later, Grian finally got clothed. He did a couple good stretches, his wings poking through the holes he just cut, fitting well enough for now. On a bad day, maybe he couldn't have dealt with that unease of the holes not being exactly in the right place, but today, it didn't even affect him really. His smile was unwavering, his stomach bubbling with warm comfort and excitement for the day. He wasn't planning on going on a wild goose chase for his actual clothes yesterday, but now he put it on the to-do list anyway. Who knew what his mood would be tomorrow. It'd be nice if he could get them back by then.
His inventory was empty after he cleared it yesterday, though now Grian couldn't seem to remember where he put his items. No chest he checked had them. Did he die yesterday and not pick them back up? He was going to check his chat logs, but his password for the communicator wasn't working. Maybe the caps lock got stuck again. He would go over to Xisuma before starting his work for today, and if that didn't reveal the location of his items, Grian would just ask Scar for some spares until he could replace them. It wasn't a big deal, because Grian didn't care for it to be one today.
So he put the gadget away, combed his hair while walking past the mirror in the hallway, and was about to open his door, when someone knocked at it. Grian wasn't expecting a visit, but it wasn't entirely unusual for hermits to peek their heads into someone's base when they were in the area.
He opened the door just a little to see who it was and the smell of spring immediately seemed to slap him in the face, now even more than when he opened the window. It smelled of honey and growing trees and flowing water and fresh air from the mountaintops. Grian shuddered a little with how pleasant it was. He smiled at his visitor, who turned out to be Mumbo. "Oh, hi Mumbo! Fancy to see you here, I was about to leave." Grian made extra sure his words didn't sound annoyed, because he wasn't.
Mumbo blinked at him in confusion. "We talked yesterday about me coming by for a mining trip, Grian. Did you already forget?"
Did they? Grian genuinely couldn't remember when that supposedly happened, but he wouldn't know why Mumbo would lie about something like that, so he just shrugged and smiled apologetically. "I'm sorry! I must have." He sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck. "And my communicator won't unlock. Here, actually, can you check it out for me? You know redstone stuff." He pushed the door open fully and held the gadget with both hands out to Mumbo, half bowing as if begging him to help.
When the comm wasn't taken out of his grip after a few seconds, Grian straightened up again and looked at his friend. He was about to pout playfully and cry about Mumbo not wanting to help him, but his mouth went dry when he saw his friend pale as chalk, eyes widened a little, staring past Grian. "Huh? What's wrong? Is there a monster behind me like in the movies?"
Grian spun around, ready to fight off a zombie or something, but the hallway was entirely empty. If there wasn't anything here, why did Mumbo look like he saw a ghost?
"Y-you have w-wings." Mumbo then stuttered, one hand reaching out and grasping for the feathers. At the touch, Grian squealed and spun around again, quickly pulling his wing away from the man and patting his feathers gently. "Hey! No touching, you know that!" Grian pouted actually now. "Why are you acting like they're new? You know that I have wings!"
"No you don't!" Mumbo adamantly shook his head and took out his own communicator, fingers racing over the screen, typing something. "I saw you just yesterday and you didn't have wings!"
Grian almost wanted to get upset, but he took a deep, steadying breath and instead smirked. "Oh, I see. Did you steal all my clothes? Replaced them with hole-less ones? Is this a big plot to make me think I just got these puppies?" He let go of his wing and it fell back behind him, colorful feathers shining a little in the sun coming in from the door. "Well, I know you're pranking me. And it's not funny."
After a few seconds of silence, Grian waiting for the shoe to drop and for Mumbo to admit to the prank, his moustached friend let his shoulders slump. "I'm calling Xisuma." That he did, communicator held up to his ear, only taking a few seconds before the admin seemingly answered the call. Grian could only hear half of the conversation.
"Yes, it's something important. I'm sorry for disturbing you, but listen- no, it can't wait. I'm at Grian's, and he has wings, and he claims he always had them, and I'm concerned. Yes, please come over."
Mumbo lowers his communicator again, the call obviously having ended, and stashes it away in his pocket before smiling at Grian. "Okay. I'm a little confused, but I'm sure it's all good. Let's go inside and wait for Xisuma, alright buddie?" His voice seemed so soft, like he was speaking to a puppy, and Grian actually felt a little concern now. Mumbo wasn't good at lying. This felt too real for one of his performances, too real for a prank. If it was a prank, he would have admitted to it by now, right? But if it isn't a prank, then what's happening? Grian knows he's had his wings since he was born. This is all very weird, and now his good mood slips away a little.
Mumbo squeezes his shoulders lightly and carefully pushes him inside, closing the door with his foot. "You should sit down, I will get you some tea."
Did Mumbo think he was sick? Was Grian sick? He couldn't tell now! Just a second ago he thought Mumbo was pranking him, and now the man treated him like a confused child roaming the streets alone at night and he doesn't know how to feel about any of this. He knew something was off about the clothing prank, but- no, he couldn't believe what Mumbo said about his wings. He couldn't. All his memories included them, they felt natural, they were a part of him. Grian knew that he could soar through the sky right now, he could feel it in his bones, the call of the wind. This was an avian thing, and it was familiar. It had to be familiar.
Was Grian going insane?
He sat down on his couch, kicking off his shoes and pulling his knees up against his chest, wrapping his arms and wings around him until he was just a ball of limbs and feathers. All that warm fuzzy feel was gone now and Grian felt cold, felt his heart beating in his chest, hammering against it's boundaries like it was trying to jump out, and he shivered. This couldn't be a prank. His friends would know how a prank like this would affect him, how easily his brain betrayed him in favor of doubting his own abilities, and right now he was doubting whether or not any of his memories were real. Surely they were. Surely this was all just a misunderstanding?
Mumbo returned with a cup and a steaming kettle, placing both on the wooden table. It too smelled a lot like the spruce it was made of, and Grian felt like it was too much. He suddenly didn't like how it coated his throat, how he felt like he was chewing on the wood, how it flooded his nostrils. A shiver ran through him and Mumbo stretched out a hand to pet through his hair. It was odd, because Grian didn't think Mumbo had ever done that before. He assumed the man wasn't comfortable with physical affection, because he wasn't one for hugs, but that was seemingly not true? In any case, it made Grian feel a little better. Grounded him with the knowledge that he wasnt alone, that someone was with him. His toes at least were pleasantly warm again.
He could relax a little again and let his feet slide off the edge of the couch, leaning forward to grab the cup of tea. "This isn't a prank. Something is wrong, isn't it?" And he doesn't look at Mumbo after asking, instead taking a sip, but he knows from the light squeeze of his shoulder that his friend wasn't joking. He couldn't be. That didn't fit with how Grian saw him at all. He didn't think any of his friends wouldn't have admitted to it by this point. After seeing how affected he was. There was some unspoken prankage rules that they wouldn't break like this.
His nose is suddenly flooded with a fruity smell, something like oranges maybe? Or tangerines. In any case, he thinks it comes from the tea until he tastes it and realizes that it's herbal tea, which leads him to question where in the void it could be coming from. He doesn't have any kind of air freshening thing, he doesn't even have fruit around. Is he having a heart attack? Isn't that one of the signs for a heart attack? Or was it burnt toast? Maybe a gas leak?
"Oh goodness me, you weren't kidding."
Grian's gaze immediately snaps up towards the door to the living room, and now his question is answered, because Xisuma stands there, all out of breath from hurrying over here, and there was no doubt in his mind that this scent was Xisuma. Not even just a perfume or deodorant or something, no. Grian's brain immediately told him that this scent belonged to Xisuma, that it was linked to the man, that it was him.
Before he could think twice, Grian had jumped up from the couch, the cup of tea falling off his lap and drenching the carpet, but he couldn't care less right now. This wasn't normal. None of this was normal.
To his surprise, Xisuma backed off too and coughed, his face pulled into a shocked kind of discomfort. He wasn't wearing his helmet, had probably taken it off after coming in to catch his breath faster. Maybe he could smell this too?
"Aether, something has gone completely wrong. He's an omega, Mumbo."
Confused, Mumbo looked at Grian, eyes wide. "Pardon? He's a beta, isn't he? Don't tell me he's not anymore. Don't tell me he has wings and is suddenly an omega."
"What are you two talking about?" Grian feels awfully cold and overwhelmed and something about the scent in the room screams for him to go closer, to wrap his arms around Xisuma and never let him go. But it's a kind of desire Grian has never felt before, and it's alien, scary - he does his best to resist the urge. "What is this omega thing? Has Iskall been up to something? Please stop being cryptic and tell me what's going on!"
Xisuma and Mumbo look at each other, both pale now, and after a moment, Xisuma slowly nods and looks back at Grian. "Okay. Take a deep breath. I take it you don't remember anything at all. That's alright. Can I check your code to figure out what happened?"
Having your code accessed was an unpleasant experience. Not painful or unbearable, but definitely not nice. Grian wasn't sure he could handle that right now, but the possibility of figuring out what had happened for him to be in this situation was enough to make him sigh in defeat and nod slightly. He took the step back towards the couch and sat down, Xisuma next to him. They both made sure not to step on the wet carpet.
"Alright, you tell me if it's too much, okay?" Xisuma looked at him expectantly, but Grian felt a little dizzy. The scent was so much stronger now that Xisuma came close, quiet whispers and promises of comfort, comfort he wanted, needed. And despite finding it scary, this new voice in his brain making demands, he wasn't strong enough to resist much longer. He fell forward and slumped against Xisuma's chest. To his surprise, neither Xisuma nor Mumbo bat an eye at his behavior. The admin just ran his hand caringly over Grian's spine. "Relax. I'll do the check now. You're okay."
Grian felt the familiar tingle of his code responding to Xisuma's call, that buzzing underneath his skin, as if someone was dragging sandpaper over it, but from the inside. It wasn't painful enough to make him cry or shake, but it did pull a whimper or two from him, a noise he didn't even know he could make, and Xisuma kept his hand moving over his back. He wasn't usually the cuddliest person, but this was doing wonders for his nerves.
Not long after, the tingling stopped and Xisuma kept an entirely straight face while looking up at Mumbo. Maybe he didn't want Grian to judge what he found based on his facial expression alone, which to be fair, Grian would have definitely done. This code call was scarily short. Xisuma couldn't have gone far at all. So it was something glaringly obvious. Basic, even. Though he couldn't know until Xisuma explained.
The admin took a deep breath, and Grian could feel his muscles tense just a little. Mumbo and Grian were basically dying for him to say something, which he finally did.
"Every player has a unique identifier number, that is used to keep track of their code in the network."
Grian huffed, and despite his brain being a bit foggy with the tangerine scent, he still pressed out, "Yeah, we know."
Xisuma shushed him. "They are made up of 64 digits, zero through nine. I don't have the hermits' IN's memorized, but yours looks accurate enough to what I remember."
Confused, Grian lightly shook his head. He expected better of Xisuma. Surely he must know? "It's 65 digits, X."
"No it's not." Mumbo chimed in, and he was frowning. "It's 64, like the number of items in a stack. Very easy to remember for tests."
That's just a lie. Grian remembered going to school and being upset at the number not fully lining up with the item stack number, it was his way of remembering it. A stack plus one for good measure. They all did it.
"Well." Xisuma interrupted the two before they could begin arguing. "You are both right. Usually, it only has 64. But Grian, yours is indeed 65 digits long."
It took quite a while for Grian's brain to really process what the man was saying, and even longer to find his words again. "That can't be true. I would have heard about that by now." He eventually claims, and it's true. If something like that came out, he would be swarmed by scientists. Nether, it would have probably been noticed at the day of his birth, and even if his parents kept it a secret, someone would have had to notice it during the countless inter-server travel, as the portals always used their IN to transport the rest of their data in the correct place.
Xisuma nodded. "That is true. Until yesterday, my friend, it only had 64 digits. I know that for a fact. Something like that wouldn't slip past me."
"What are you trying to imply, X?" Mumbo asked cautiously, and fumbled with his red tie. "Are you saying something changed his code?"
"No." Immediately, Xisuma shook his head, and because it was with no hesitance at all, Grian knew it had to be true. "I believe him when he says he had these wings before. And that his IN had 65 digits." Xisuma cocked his head. "Have you heard of the multiverse theory?"
"Multi-" Mumbo looked at Grian and took a heavy breath. "You think he's- a different Grian?" And Grian too couldn't quite believe that. This was his home, his couch, these were his friends. He wasn't in a different universe, there was no way!
Or maybe...
"Look at the evidence." Xisuma sighed. "His IN is different. He claims it's always been this way. He claims to have always had these wings. Our Grian doesn't have wings, Mumbo. Our Grian is a beta who knows what being a beta means." Xisuma nudged Grian's shoulder. "No offense. You clearly remember us, so it can't be too different where you come from. You're still our friend. But- another version, I suppose."
Could it be? Their world was made up of code. There has been plenty of theories about entities watching over them, who created their world. Maybe there could be a different universe. Different program. A version that was similar, but different, that had slight changes, miniscule but big enough for him to have wings when the Grian from this universe didn't have any.
Xisuma was right though. He has the memories of his friends. And if both Grian's ended up in this season of hermitcraft building the same base, the events they went through with their friends had to be similar enough for them to be the same people he knew. Maybe just- another version, as Xisuma put it.
But then, this weird thing the two kept talking about, was it a specific thing to this universe? Most hermits in his version were hybrids. And while he couldn't tell if that was different in this one, Mumbo and Xisuma had always been human, was it really farfetched to think this way?
"Maybe you're right... But what should we do if that is the case? How could we make sure? Can I go back?"
Xisuma lightly shakes his head like Grian did earlier. "I'm sorry, Grian. I don't know. Void, if that were to be true, I bet our Grian is just as confused as you are right now. You probably swapped places." He then took a stabilizing breath. "But we will try to look into it, okay? I will do my best to help you. Until I find something, you're of course welcome to just live your life."
Mumbo cleared his throat and the two other hermits looked at him expectantly. He raised an eyebrow. "Shouldn't you tell him about- you know." And he tapped against a scarred spot on his neck.
"Oh. Yes." Xisuma chuckled nervously. "Dear me, how do I explain this to the poor man."
Grian felt concern. And a lot of it at that.