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His chest shuddered with labored breaths as he caught the air around him. His arms were sore with use, and his clothes clung to his body in a way that itched because of the Watcher’s blood.
Joel was overwhelmed and overstimulated, and his mind was racing as it replayed moments in the battle where he swore he was about to die before instinct kicked in to save him. This is not what he was expecting from hermitcraft… not even close.
Etho collapsed onto the ground beside him, lifting whatever exile he’d given himself that prevented anyone except for Grian to talk with him. Even though his friend was right here, he still felt like he couldn’t talk with him.
He felt so detached from everyone, not just Etho. Other than being thrown into the games, he hadn’t experienced any wrongdoings from the Eyes. Joel hadn’t been transformed against his will or hearing voices for years or had anyone important to him killed by Them. He constantly wondered what he was doing here amongst all of these players who have a more personal gripe with the Watchers than he ever could. What difference did it make for him to be fighting on the front lines here than with the angels? Lizzie wasn’t fighting in the war, so he didn’t need to put himself in danger to keep her safe.
Joel pulled on one of the straps on his armor so that it could collapse to the ground around him, so that he could pull his shirt away from his skin. Etho huffed a laugh beside him as he pushed the armor away from his side and started pulling his own armor off.
He didn’t belong. Why was he here? Why did he think he deserved to fight.
Etho pulled out a shirt and tossed it at Joel’s face, and Joel scrambled at it. “You look uncomfortable with the blood.” Etho said simply.
Joel froze, computing on what he should do next, but the itching clung to his skin too, not just his shirt. “I need to jump into the river,” he tossed the shirt back, his stance going wide to keep different parts of his clothing from rubbing against each other, “but thanks anyway.” Etho put the shirt back into his inventory and shrugged, and he stood when the others started arriving in the town square.
He watched as Etho shrunk away from the players, shutting himself away from the world again despite having fought alongside his other friends mere moments earlier.
Grian had gone to Pearl’s side after he came back, and he was still by her side now with Doc trying to make her come back to reality. She probably needed a dunk in the river more than he did, and his uncomfortableness suddenly didn’t feel significant. Mumbo was pacing back and forth in thought, where he occasionally scanned the growing crowd, stopping on Bdubs, and then glancing back down to the ground. He saw Martyn off to the side glancing between Pearl and Scott, but he also was searching for someone from the town who would be running here soon.
Xisuma stared longingly towards Tango who was by Grian’s side, his two future admins not in communication despite them being within arm’s length.
This wasn’t the hermitcraft he expected to be joining into. Lizzie came barreling into him and he braced himself so that he wouldn’t fall to the ground as he held Lizzie close. The blood clearly wasn’t an issue for her, but she scanned him and knew what he was aching to do.
She tried to guide him towards their share home, but the arm she held fell back to his side as he looked towards the group around him. They were all fighting their own battles, and he watched as more players showed up with bandages at the ready and care engraved in their beings.
His pause caused his wife to raise an eyebrow, but she knew him probably better than he knew himself, and with a kiss to his temple she promised she’d be back shortly.
Martyn was now being twirled around by Ren in a crushing embrace. Etho was nowhere to be seen. Mumbo had settled on talking to Bdubs and was guiding him towards a quieter location. Pearl sobbed, rubbing her tears away and painting her cheeks in a bloody slurry as she cracked. Grian pulled his sister into his side to provide comfort.
It was silly to think he didn’t belong to this fight, he realized. His friends were here. Not on some other server fighting amongst strangers. They were here. These players were fighting for their neighbors and friends. Joel fought for his friends that were wronged by creatures who thought they were nothing more than food. He couldn’t stop the tears streaming down his face, nor hide them when Lizzie came back with a bucket of water and a rag.
“Are you alright?” Lizzie whispered as she soaked the wash cloth in the bucket and started wiping away the blood from his face, taking the tears away with it.
“Yeah, it was just a lot. I’m okay.” His hand rested on Lizzie’s hand and leaned into it. He didn’t know what to expect for a server full of the best builders and redstoners and the greatest admins of all time. He didn’t really expect to find a family ready to fight for each other. It wasn’t perfect, like what his mind had imagined. Even when they visited in the crossover, Joel felt like they weren’t even real, even as he saw Grian again and knew Pearl and False.
But it’s been over a month now, and Joel has seen these players at their worst, and he saw how they don’t give up on each other. It was admirable, and even if he feels like he’s on the outside now, he can’t imagine what life would be like when they aren’t dealing with world destroying monsters. Hermitcraft may not be what he was expecting, but it was right where he needed to be.