Hermitcraft oneshots

Bad boys (General)

Casual meeting between Ex and Hels.

I've been going through old unfinished drafts and this was one of them. I tried my best to finish it up and polish it off, but do keep in mind it is almost 3 AM and I don't do endings well, so here we are.

Warnings:
-Slight disassociation (Very inexplicit, brushed over very fast)

Wordcount [~1.4k]

~3rd POV~

Ex had taken his time to get used to...well, everything. The world of nothingness he had learned to adjust to and just coexist had been long gone, exploded by a mass of color and light. The interaction he had craved for so long had been met and the bitterness in his soul, while still there, did not pain him with loud reminders and punches to the gut every waking moment.

Mortal existence just seemed so much more manageable now that Ex had things to distract him from it.

Ex had never realized how many sounds there were. He hadn't realized how much he had taken for granted. Noise, people, simple textures of everyday items. Often he found himself overwhelmed by all these sensations being brought back.

The Nether, Ex found, was a beautiful place. He couldn't walk long distances by himself entirely, but he enjoyed the short walks no matter how slow or how much he stumbled.

Ex didn't mind the heat; it was a tad heavy, but manageable. All he really had to worry about was the mobs. Ex knew he wouldn't be able to handle his own in a fight just yet, so he made sure to wear some gold pants and stay close to the nether rack walls. Away from the blue tinged valleys of always whispering souls, away from the noisy sights of the forests.

As long as he played it safe, Ex knew he would be fine. The Nether had quickly become one of his favorite places to simply sit and think. It was quiet, but not too quiet. It was relatively peaceful if you stayed low and away from the headache inducing noise of hermit-made farms.

The nether rack was a deep red, it's texture rocky and rough, the smallest cracks and bumps defined and clear as canyons. Ex found himself lightly dragging his gloved fingers across the rocks, feeling the raw blackstone crunch beneath his boots with a satisfying sound as he walked. The walls easily caved in, encasing Ex in a red prison and obstructing his view of anything but the pure and unbridled scar of the color. It was a lovely feeling, one that Ex found an odd sense of peace within.

The rest of his senses taking a backseat, Ex had not realized when he stumbled upon something he hadn't seen before on his usual route. He leaned on his arm in an unfortunate spot, falling straight through a gap in the wall and into a small room. Ex would have ignored it, had it not felt so man-made. He had fallen inside a small maybe 5 by 5 room, perfect corners, completely dug out.

Items were scattered on the floor, broken shards of glass, beat up bits of armor and weaponry. The blank walls had seemed to take a beating, covered in deep scratches and discoloration.

Which hermit did this?

Ex shakily lifted himself to his feet, using the wall as a crutch. However, he hadn't stayed standing for long, as his feet were swept off the floor, the weight of his body transferring to the wall, very harshly. As his back hit the rock, an involuntary wheeze showed itself out of his lungs. He expected to fall, but to Ex's surprise, he was held firmly in place by an arm