The Watchers' Revenge

Chapter 19: Memories

Grian zoomed across the azure sky, pursued by a wavering Mumbo. Grian's red figure darted ahead front of Mumbo's black one, with Iskall's green and Xisuma's purple swooping lazily behind.

The sky was bright and playful in the beaming sunshine, perfectly complimenting the upbeat and joyful hermits gliding across it.

Grian dashed forward, then doubled back mischievously, forcing Mumbo into a double-take. He rose up above the others, glided on his back for a short, peaceful turn, then dropped down and completed his loop, flying below Mumbo and reemerging at the front of the pack.

"Come on!" Mumbo shouted indignantly.

"Can't catch me!" Grian teased back.

Mumbo didn't bother arguing; that was just fact at this point.

Grian dove down and glided over the ashes of the Shopping District. Gray cinders littered the island, reminiscent of the gray mycelium, but far deeper and with an unmistakable hint of sadness in their windblown paths. Timber and fabric still smoldered weakly and bent and broken bit of metal skyscrapers lay scattered about, giving the entire area the feel of some great civilization that was now gone, ruined, and lost.

The sky seemed to dim as he thought of all the events that had passed because of the Watchers. All the pain, all the fear, all the memories, all the nightmares, because of them. The shopping district in tatters because of them. 

Mumbo, noticing Grian's slackening speed, drifted down to fly next to him, saying nothin, simply being there, in that moment, for his friend.

Grian rocketed away from the wreckage, not wanting to deal with the memories it recalled any longer. Mumbo forlornly watched his Grian's flying begin to waver as he raced to get away from the area. He followed Grian as fast as he could, but he wasn't as good a flyer as the small builder, and he knew it.

He pulled away and hovered in the air, waiting for Iskall and Xisuma. The two caught up to him before long, stopping and joining him in watching Grian's figure dwindle from sight and eventually vanish into the horizon.

Iskall's eyes flicked after Grian, then back to Mumbo in a silent question for permission. Mumbo shook his head with a sigh and Iskall reluctantly waited at Mumbo's refusal.

"Mumbo, I know you want to let him work it out himself, but you know..." Xisuma trailed off, not needing to finish his sentence for Mumbo to sigh in acknowledgement.

"Can I go alone?" Mumbo asked.

Xisuma nodded. He and Iskall stayed and watched as Mumbo, too, vanished into the distance.

Grian flew home shakily, barely taking in the beauty of the jungle, even on a bright, sunny day. Despite the warmth, Grian was slightly cold; and it wasn't because of the temperature.

He landed in front of his hobbit hole and calmed slightly at the familiar sight, taking in the birch and spruce with a small sigh of relief. He was home. He was safe.

Hopefully.

Grian walked inside cautiously. Nothing happened. 

So he continued through the burrow, steadying himself with the thoughts of building this place. It was cool and calm; like the earth, steady and safe.

The peace was shortly interrupted by a the sound of Mumbo crashing through the house, causing Grian to flinch at the racket, jolted roughly out of his thoughts.

"Grian!" Mumbo called out.

"Go away, Mumbo," Grian replied irritably. He really didn't want to deal with Mumbo right now, especially with how overly concerned he's been about Grian lately. Angrily, Grian reflected that Mumbo hadn't done anything to help at all; never really doing anything for him, just being upset when others failed. So why did he keep shoving himself into Grian's life like he could fix everything?

"Grian, I-" Mumbo started, concerned.

"Oh, here we go, go ahead! Tell me how you want me to be happy! Tell me how you'll help everything be okay! You haven't ever before, so go ahead and tell me why now you can go ahead and magically fix everything!" Grian burst out angrily, voice rising to a yell. 

"Go ahead and explain how I need to be safe and you don't want me to get hurt and then tell me why none of that ever mattered? Because it certainly didn't when you did nothing when Xisuma and you came to the stronghold! When all you did after I was sick was to tell me you were glad I was better! When you let me be dragged away by our friend and then never did anything to save me, ever!"

Mumbo stood in shocked silence, mouth parsed half-open in surprise. "I-"

"-don't care, anymore!" Grian interrupted him. "You never, never did anything, and it's too late to bother trying anything now!"

Mumbo realized with a disturbing, heavy guilt that Grian was right. He'd done nothing, just sat by and cried and watched while Xisuma and Scar did all the real work. And he'd done nothing to stop Grian nearly getting killed by phantoms or help him after they returned from the End.

He'd been such a bad friend!

And now it might be too late.

Grian turned away and ran past Mumbo, brushing away tears. Why did no one ever help him? Why did no one ever treat him like anything more than a poor, hurt animal? Even Stress, who'd healed him, had been cautious around him. Like he had to be protected. Could no one ever just talk to him?

He didn't know where he was going, habitually flying his route around his mansion. The familiar sights calmed him slightly, and he landed on the prismarine roof roughly; unusual for him, but he was too upset to care.

Grian sat down numbly and simply waited there until day turned to night.