Chapter Text
Every year - or somewhere around that timeframe, as surely only the Void knew how long each season would end up being beforehand - Xisuma started putting out feelers into finding new members.
He’d long since started a list of each Hermit’s connections. Old friends, college roommates, anyone they’d mentioned that seemed like they’d either be a good fit for the server, or who’d have recommendations of others who were. Originally, in the server’s early days, anyone could join, so long as every standing member agreed. One could simply message him or Generik and they’d put it to a vote within the server.
Nowadays, since they’d been added to the billboards - and after a few incidents with new members one upon a time - and everyone and their mother knew about the ‘Hermitcraft SMP’ they - really he - had to be more careful, doing rigorous background checks before he’d introduce the idea of a new member. Long past were the days of new members coming in mid-season. It was a loss of something fun he’d loved, but a loss he was willing to bear, for the safety of his Hermits.
Xisuma sighed, pushing back from the desk, covered in hovering, purple screens. Just looking at them was aggravating his headache. He turned, reaching for his helmet situated on the empty desk behind him.
He took a long breath out, the oxygen leaving his lungs semi-painfully. He closed his eyes as he slid the metal helmet over his unruly reddish-brown hair. When he opened them, there was a familiar purple tinge to the world around him. He took a deep breath, the void pouring into his lungs allowing him to breathe deeply once again.
The air in his underground admin room was alright, being mixed with some Void due to the code surrounding it to make it stagnate, but it still made his sensitive, voidwalker lungs sting from overexertion. He’d once explained his helmet, to a very confused False, as a sort of medical inhaler. It soothed his lungs with pure Void, stored in capsules inside of the mask, and refilled every time he visited the End. He could go without it, but he’d feel like he had a respiratory cold for the entire time.
As he waited for the helmet to do its magic, he found himself looking at the pictures sitting on shelves and hanging on the wall over Generik’s old desk. Along the top of the wall were each season’s group photos, beginning and end for the first few, to show the growth of the server over time, then just the end. He kept all of the undisplayed beginning photos in a little booklet that he carried with him at all times, lovingly tucked into a special compartment in his suit.
Each photo had more people than the last, and he found himself smiling softly as he looked down the line, seeing everyone who’d stayed each season carry over to the next, Keralis’s face smiling wildly at him all the time, because even if he’d been off doing other things, his friend was always there for him, and his - their - server.
Below the Server timeline photos, were several shelves, one with the first starter base each Hermit made on the server, his first farmhouse in the centre, lovingly placed there by GenerikB, and decorated with silly jeering notes from his old servermates he’d collected over time. Grian’s ship-in-a-bottle was the newest addition, a small picture, taken quickly as he swam by. It was next to Mumbo’s.
The only other shelf with pictures was dedicated to pets, Jellie was obviously front-and-centre, the queen of Hermitcraft. There were two, small, old pictures of his cat, Garfield - who was purring happily under his desk in a minecart (don’t ask him why, he’d claimed it long ago and still wouldn’t let Xisuma retrieve it) - tacked to the wall, and a few other Hermit’s pets covered the length of the shelf.
Grian had recently given him a picture of his cats, Maui and Pearl, that he hadn’t yet framed and put up. He made a mental note to do so later.
On the unoccupied desk, were a few of Generik’s pictures that he’d left, him and a few former hermits, him and Xisuma when he’d become co-owner, his cat Rasputin.
Xisuma looked away, wiping the back of his sleeve - the microfibre patch specifically for cleaning - over the visor of his helmet.
He looked down at his other arm, flipping over the top of his Comm by flicking his wrist. No new messages from his Hermits; but there was an alert from the World Hub, it was time to go. He typed out a message into the all-server chat, letting everyone that was awake know. He trusted everyone to inform whoever didn’t see it.
Xisumavoid: I will be off-server for the next 24 hours. Anything you need me for can be brought to Keralis, Who I’m trusting to keep the place from falling apart?
He waited a moment, looking for a response from his favourite wide-eyed man.
Keralis: Yup, i got it X ;)
He huffed a laugh, standing from his chair to make his way out of his bunker-like admin room.
Xisumavoid: That does not inspire confidence.
Keralis: Nah, you don’t need to worry! ;))
Xisuma rolled his eyes, flipping his Comm shut as he started his ascent up the shoddy dirt staircase to the surface - His admin room may stay through each reset, but that also meant its construction has stayed the same for years, keeping its old-timey charm no matter what he tries to do.
(Once, when he’d just inherited the server, he’d renovated the place. It had looked like a real lab, with everything he needed. He’d been devastated when, on the next season’s reset, it was back to being a wooden room underground with a dirt staircase leading to it. At least he’d figured out how to update it afterwards. He never changed the layout after that, though. It had somewhat grown on him.)
As he reached the surface, he shielded his eyes from the bright, midday sun. He noticed the portal, waiting for him at the edge of the tiny spawn island, but he turned back, covering his entrance back up with sand and dirt. Even if the Hermits knew where it was, he still felt better when his admin room was hidden from view; It was probably a leftover instinct from when voidwalkers lived in gaps in the void, and not cities.
His Comm bzzz’d incessantly, letting him know his portal was about to leave him behind. He sprinted forwards, pressing the purple stone button to keep it there, before taking a deep breath and walking through.
—-----------
Xisuma stepped out onto the cold World-Hub-stone - nobody really knew what it was, one of the hub’s many secrets - floor, his boots tapping and scraping against engravings he couldn’t quite make out in the red-purple light, on top of the purple tinge of his visor.
Hermitcraft’s portal was in a private room, off from the main hall of portals thanks to their contract with the World Hub, and many of the Hermits’ with MCC. He nodded politely at the attendant outside the room who’d summoned the portal for him, his elytra flaring out as he did so. The man’s own wings - patterned with the blue-rainbow colours of the Kea - shook in solidarity.
Xisuma found himself smiling as he made his way down the private hall, out into the main Hub. It was bustling with activity, shops and open-air restaurants filled with customers, old and young, big and small, hybrid and player.
He jumped slightly as a low ding sounded behind him, moving out of the way of the elevator doors beside the ones he’d just stepped out from behind sheepishly, nodding back at the executive coming out that had nodded to him. It was still so odd that they knew who he was, even after so long.
He made his way through the shops, spending as little time as possible looking at the wares, and headed towards the info desk and server registry, where new Admins were gathering, trying their luck at snagging one of the newly made servers.
He passed a young man with black and white hair, bemoaning to his friend as he shoved the rejection sheet he’d pulled from one of the machines at her. “They rejected me! I’m a perfectly good admin!” He said, his stony-faced angel friend nodding in solidarity.
“You’ll get one soon, you just have to be persistent,” he said, winking at the angel girl as her friend gaped. He turned, passing through the arches separating the sections with not a care in the world.
“Was that-?” The young man said, turning to his friend after snapping his jaw shut.
“Who..?” His friend said, obliviously, her monotone voice uninterested as her friend shook her arm excitedly.
Xisuma chuckled, flicking his Comm open to check and see if his Contact had given him a place to meet. To his surprise, she gave him exact coordinates. He committed them to memory, his helmet displaying his current coordinates helpfully in the corner of his vision with a minute movement.
He stood still, letting the hustle and bustle of people coming and going overtake him for a moment. Thousands of players, meeting up with old friends, going home for the first time in years, visiting their new home for the very first time. Their conversations rang in his ears, hearing every word, clear as crystal.
The benches and tables, all filled with people, talking and laughing, passed him by quickly as he walked briskly towards the large, gilded arch that led into the central Atrium, opposite the stairs down to the portal levels. The giant maple tree that held several round, berry-like homes, with Avians flying in and out, was visible from everywhere, thanks to the glass dome separating it from everything else - and keeping the creatures who lived in the tree in one space, more or less.
He stopped as he reached the arch, a gloved hand resting on the gold engravings edging the raw glass of the dome to form a doorway. Xisuma scanned the Atrium floor, looking for something familiar.
When he didn’t find it, whatever he was looking for, he flicked his Comm open once more, verifying the Coords he’d been given, and plotting out the location in his head.
If he was right - and his calculations usually were, perks of being a long-time Admin, in charge of all the maths related to such a thing - he was meeting her at.. The pink cottage nestled into a hedge maze, hidden slightly behind the tree trunk. He should have guessed.
Xisuma made his way over, awkwardly waving when someone walking a dog called out his name, and speeding up his pace to evade having to speak to them. He was a man on a mission, after all.
As he approached the cottage, he got a glimpse over the short fence beside it. There was a beautiful garden, filled with sculptures of cats, a pond with lily pads and lotus flowers, and a white-metal latticework table with a teaset lovingly arranged on top.
Surely, that meant this would go well. Good omens and all that.
He idled in front of the baby pink front door, the gingerbread-house trim catching his eye as he debated whether or not to remove his helmet. He picked up the white-gold knocker in the shape of a heart, knocking three times before removing his hand and stepping back.
Who opened the door wasn’t who he’d expected. A man, with a green streak in his brown hair, opened the door a crack, squinting out at him suspiciously.
“You’re Xisuma?” He asked, pronouncing his name correctly the first time, which was a surprise. He had a northern accent, and was wearing very simple clothes, a tunic with long, off-white sleeves, and a leather vest; his trousers were frayed at the ends. As he opened the door slightly, Xisuma caught sight of green, antennae-like ears coming out of the sides of his head.
“Yes! I’m here to meet--” He was cut off by a very fast woman pushing past the brunet, a big smile on her face.
“Xisuma!” She said, greeting him with a hug. He chuckled awkwardly, making nervous eye contact with the man as he gently patted her back. Her pink hair was half-up, held away from her face by a cat-paw shaped clip. “It’s so good to meet you! Oh, Grian has told me so much about you!” She had flour on her nose.
“It’s nice to meet you, too, Miss Shadowlady,” He said, smiling down - she was rather short, shorter than both him and the man, who was shorter than Xisuma - at her kindly with a slight bow of his head, she was rather important, in the World Hub. (Which was likely why she had this cottage in the Atrium in the first place.)
She scoffed playfully, waving her hand at him dismissively.
“Oh, please, call me Lizzie! I wouldn’t call you ‘Mr. Void’!” Lizzie said, a bright, cheery smile still on her face as she turned to pull the man closer. “This is my husband, Joel!”
“You think he might want to come inside, Honey?” Joel asked, chuckling slightly as Lizzie squealed, running back inside in a hurry. “She decided to make afternoon tea all by herself, just for your visit.” He informed Xisuma as he beckoned him inside with a hand over his shoulder. He eyed Joel’s socked feet and wondered if he should remove his boots, but Lizzie had been wearing mary janes, so he elected to keep them on.
A fluffy, tan and black dog swarmed his legs, whole body wiggling as it circled him. “That’s Meri. Close the door before she gets out, would you?” Joel called out from the end of the hallway. Xisuma scooped up the dog, unbothered by her weight as he walked back to close the door before she jumped out of his arms.
“Damn, you’re strong, dude. How much can you bench?” Joel asked, leaning against the door trim at the end of the entryway.
“Oh,” he said, thinking for a moment. “I’m not sure, I don’t spend much time lifting weights.” Joel gave him a look, and he elaborated; “I mostly haul animals around, or carry shulkers for my-- For my friend, Keralis.”
“You don’t get out much, do you?” Joel teased, a sly smile on his face.
“Boys!” Lizzie called from the kitchen, before Xisuma could agree. “Joel! I need your big strong arms to help me carry these outside!” She shouted, exasperated.
“Coming!” Joel shouted, pushing off the trim to turn towards the kitchen. “Back door’s through there,” He pointed, directing Xisuma to a hallway. “Just, sit out there. This might take a bit.”
Xisuma’s eyes crinkled fondly, he’d just met the duo, but he could already see why Grian spoke so highly of them. He nodded, giving Joel an awkward double thumbs-up, heading down the hall once Joel jogged off to go assist his wife in her endeavours.
There were pictures lining one wall, mostly of people and places Xisuma didn’t recognize. He could see both Grian and Mumbo in several pictures, the Avian’s wings missing - hidden? - in a great number of them.
There was a long, two-shelf dresser in the middle of the hallway, aligned with the base of the stairs, it held several pictures of a younger Lizzie and Joel, some with Grian and Mumbo. One of the framed pictures, was a photo of the four of them, standing in Graduation caps and robes and posing sillily in front of a large, brick, victorian chapel style school. ‘St. Agatha’s Preparatory Boarding School’ the gilded letters on the main building read.
His gloved finger traced the flowery frame as he looked at the centremost photo, it was clearly one of the two’s wedding photos, Lizzie was in a beautiful white dress, shoving cake into Joel’s face.
Xisuma chuckled, making his way down the corridor finally. At the end, where beside it was a mirror, was an open door, the lattice screen door keeping any animals in the garden from getting in closed. He pressed down on the handle’s cracking white button, pushing the door open.