Chapter Text
The day before she arrived, Tango found himself hunched over a small red stone contraption that refused to work.
The infinite wires and large metal structures to hold up more wires surrounded him like a cage. A cage he built himself, but a cage that could trap him endlessly and just as easily. And if it weren’t for the glow from his hair and tail, he’d be surrounded in darkness. Only barely illuminated by the soft light emanating from the red stone.
Every small moment echoed throughout the structure along with the low hum of machinery. And if it weren’t for this stupid hunk of metal in front of him, he’d say it was his happy place.
Sweat beaded on his upper brow, and whether it was from the circuits doing well to trap the heat he naturally produced, or simply the heat the machines did, he could feel himself grow increasingly uncomfortable.
And with the discomfort, came the eventual frustration.
A soft, annoyed rumble appeared in his throat, but with immense amounts of self control, he was able to keep it down. Growls were ugly after all, and Tango had a distaste for a Hellion’s sounds.
“Hells Bellow!” He hissed, feeling the curse slip from his lips too easily. The flames on his head blazed with a new intensity.
The blue flame flickered angrily as he shifted his tail to try and find the issue. He didn’t need torches when he had his own light.
The redstone seemed like it should’ve been working. The repeaters looked to be working right, everything seemed connected, and the observers really should’ve been observing! And yet, he couldn’t see anything that looked out of the ordinary. The harsh, blue glare illuminating the wires was not good enough.
Tango had to swallow his pride and he opened his inventory to see if he had any torches. He would have to find more light.
He grumbled as he flicked his hand to summon the torch from his inventory, peevishly planting it on the ground right next to the contraption. It was almost immediately that he realized what was wrong.
A repeater wasn’t entirely flicked to the desired setting, it was in between ticks. Tango nudged it, and boom! The entire machine hummed to life.
“Yes! Finally!” Tango sighed, exasperated, flopping back onto the ground. His tail flicked happily back and forth as Tango released the tension in his back.
Tango slowly stood up, cracking every bone in his body and began to prepare for heading outside of the complex for a break. Decked Out always had a knack of taking all of his energy out.
His foot planted on a large metal pipe as he hoisted himself out of the small nook of mechanics that he had nestled himself in. He observed the space around him and eventually found the path of least resistance out.
He jumped onto a colossal fan blade and panicked when the fan began to shift with his weight. Tango’s tail wildly flipped around to find balance as he launched himself onto a nearby platform made of thick wires.
He lay there still for a moment, catching his breath, trying to ignore his heart pounding in his rib cage. The fire on his head waning slightly as Tango got a hold on his adrenaline.
Tango huffed, climbing up intricate metal framework to eventually flop onto a large copper pathway he’d built to avoid the very situation he had previously gotten himself in.
The cavernous back-room was dangerously dark. One might have been scared of monsters spawning, but luckily for Tango, the mechanisms produced so much heat, whatever spawned would be fried once the entire thing turned on.
After some walking and brief observations of the wiring, he arrived to the exit for the code of Decked Out. Tango pushed a large button and the heavy metal doors to the outside groaned in protest as they opened.
—
The sun stung his eyes, and a small hiss snaked out of his throat. Judging by the placement of said sun in the sky, it was noon. Which was odd, because he was sure it was 3:00 pm last time he was outside.
Tango grumbled, his soft blue flames flickering in irritation. He had been tinkering away for a lot longer than he realized. He stretched again and sauntered off to his storage system to fish out some food and water.
After all, Tango had found that he’d grown increasingly hungry once he realized how long he’d been redstone-ing.
The chests looked at him like an ant, and the soft sounds of pistons and carts behind the wall of storage whispered in his sensitive ears. One of his finer designs of a storage system, if you asked him.
Tango sauntered over to the food chests silently, not really bothering to hum like he usually did. He looked through some of his chests and found pretty much nothing, which made his eyebrows furrow. Surely he had some food.
Whilst digging around for something to eat, Tango felt the fur on his back stand on end. Someone was near. He knew that, logically, it was a friend, but something in his gut stirred with a territorial nature.
He hated this side of him. The Hellion side. If it were up to him, he’d become human. Which, he was basically a human, with how he acted, except for his physical appearance. That’s what made him feel as alienated as he did.
—-//—-///—-//—-
Hellion Biology Lesson 1: Physical Appearances
Hellions are often associated with fire. This is due to the flames that rest on their heads and tails. These flames react to chemical reactions in their brains that produce certain hormones to stimulate the fire.
First, it’s important to note that Hellions are sexually dimorphic. With females having a marking in the middle of their eyes. This marking resembles hot magma. This mark is often used as a cultural symbol, depicting marital status and other things of that nature. Other than that, Hellions express the same level of sexual dimorphism that humans do.
Also, most Hellions have claws on their hands and feet, only growing them around the ages of 4-5. These claws must be trimmed often by Hellions to make sure no health issues or injuries occur due to the sharpness of the claws.
A Hellions eyes are inverted, with the Sclera expressing pigmentation and the Iris being white. To add on, Hellions have a distinct lack of visible pupils.
A Hellions tail is usually donned with said fire most days, unless the Hellion is experiencing trauma, neglect, or other types of high stress. This fire usually only strengthens under greater emotion, like anger. Regardless, if you come across a Hellion, its tail will likely have a small tuft of flame on the very end.
Unlike the tail, the hair, specifically on a Hellion’s head, is not always present. Most often, a Hellions hair will remain similar to any other race of humanoids. Their hair has a shimmery appearance similar to enchanted armor, but otherwise, it looks what we would call ‘normal’. Of course, when a Hellion experiences certain strong emotions (positive or negative), the chemical reactions associated with those emotions will cause a chain reaction.
First, the reaction will take place. Then, the neurological response to said reaction will produce a number of hormones to stimulate the ignition/intensity of the flames. This is a very complicated phenomenon that cannot be directly controlled by Hellions.
Hellions do, in fact, have hair that does not turn to flames. This hair is located on the legs, pelvic, lower stomach and upper back area. This hair is most often described as ‘fur’ due to its roots in earlier evolutions of the Hellion.
The fur on the back, one of the most distinctive features on a Hellion, is a small patch of thick fur, that varies in color depending on the type of fire that the Hellion is fueled by (similar to their eye color).
Right above this patch is located a sort of scruff mother Hellions would grab their children by. Although it is a no longer a common practice, it has been tested and seen that the ‘scruff’ on a Hellion still works as intended. Similar to a domestic canine.
—-//—-///—-//—-
Xisuma cocked an eyebrow in amusement, walking toward Tango with his arms crossed. His eyes reflected a vague sense of humor and he spoke, “Jeez, Tango, tell me how you really feel,”
Tango huffed a bit, looking away, and ran his fingers through his flames to calm them. The weight of his hands and the sensation of them always did the trick and got rid of his fire. In their wake, was slicked back, icy blue hair.
“You startled me is all,” Tango began, his eyes trailing back to Xisuma’s visor, “plus, I haven’t eaten anything today, man. Cut me some slack.”
Xisuma snorted, pulling out his communicator. Curtesy of Mumbo years ago to help the guy with his admin responsibilities. Xisuma began to furiously type away at it absentmindedly, like it was second nature, despite the complicated interface it had.
The small device had all sorts of wires and extra add-ons that made its form more like a large tablet than something meant to be more like a phone.
“Fwip and I were talking about Jimmy’s visit to Hermitcraft,” Xisuma started, breaking the silence, his voice bouncing off of the cavernous walls.
Tango perked up at that.
After the rift had taken the hermits to Empires and vise versa, everyone had been asking for an easy way back and forth. Everyone missed everyone and the poor admins didn’t hear the end of it.
While it was possible to travel to other servers, it took a lot of effort and time. Since servers were much harder to access than something like Hub, many just stuck to their homes. And, as Xisuma and Fwip had found out, it was much smarter (and easier) to simply utilize the rift than to facilitate server migrations constantly.
Because, knowing Jimmy and Tango after Double Life, there would be a LOT of back and forth between servers.
“Yea? What about it?” Tango asked, feeling a bit of nervousness pool in his gut at the mention. He kept his tone cool, relaxed, casual, just barely hiding his growing concern.
If there was something wrong with the gate way, and Tango would have to wait longer to see his Rancher again, he would riot.
“Well, we just got the system working this morning, and we were thinking maybe Jimmy could be our test run. In case there are any gaps in our firewall or kinks in the system. I just wanted to tell you about that before he comes over tomorrow,” Xisuma quickly explained, not looking up from his device even once.
Tango felt a small bubble of protectiveness rise in his chest. He didn’t particularly like Jimmy being a test run, if he was honest. He shook it off, knowing that the avian he chose to be his boyfriend would be fine.
He had to be.
“A test? What is he, a Guinea pig?” Tango asked, refusing to let a sneer wipe across his face, and instead keeping himself cool.
“He’ll be fine Tango. We wouldn’t use him as a test run if we weren’t 100% sure he’d be okay,” Xisuma smiled softly, patting the Hellion on the shoulder.
“I know he’ll be fine,” Tango spoke, not meaning to sound as defensive as he did. He didn’t mean to reply as fast as he did.
Xisuma’s eyebrows raised before he removed his hand from the shorter man’s shoulders.
“Alright, Tango, I’d best be off,” Xisuma said, rooting through his bag for something, “I don’t want to be a bother, and clearly you need to be left alone.”
Xisuma took the Hellion’s wrist and dropped a large bag into his palm. He didn’t speak, neither of them did, and Xisuma simply waved him off and walked towards a large open window. The window shrieked in harsh resistance. There, he took off into the now setting sun.
All that was left was a trail of smoke from Xisuma’s rockets.
Opening the bag, Tango found various foods. Probably Xisuma’s personal stash. He felt a bit embarrassed that his admin had to give him food, and he felt like he couldn’t provide for himself. His tail curled and uncurled in his irritation.
Because glancing back at his food chests showed he had nothing.
Tango assumed that Xisuma probably thought he was hangry.
Which was fair.
But it peeved him that the admin could be so kind, even to him. Even when he was such a pain.
Tango sniffed and rummaged through the bag and chose an apple.
It was crisp, sweet, and rejuvenating. With a sigh, he looked back up towards the sky where Xisuma had been. Tango took another bite and thought for a moment.
He definitely was pretty harsh on his admin. He’d usually be much more upbeat. More friendly. Maybe, it was the fact he’d spent the last day cooped up in his redstone.
Tango felt his eyes fall onto the apple in his hand. All that was left was the core.
His lips quirked up into a sneer and his brows furrowed. He looked back out of the window and into the sky.
The horizon was a deep red gradient to blazing yellow. Vibrant and warm. So incredibly beautiful.
Tango always had that appreciation for life. For the earth. For his server. And looking back at his apple, he could see it begin to oxidize.
It was all brown on the edges.
Tango took one more bite, his sharp teeth easily tearing through the flesh, and chucked the apple out of his window as hard as he could.
—
The day she arrived, Tango woke up full of nerves.
How could he not when Jimmy was going to come over to the Hermitcraft server that very day?
Tango stretched, feeling his back crack with a satisfying pop. He opened his communicator to a couple of notifications. Just the usual stuff, like Keralis asking if anyone had any idea where a weird build came from and Etho saying that he was going to the nether and to message him if ‘you needed anything’.
Tango felt a soft smile creep onto his lips reading everyone’s chats. All equally humorous and lighthearted. Each one encouraging him to have a better day than yesterday.
Grian, Scar, Mumbo, and Xisuma were apparently going to be camping outside of the rift to wait for Jimmy to join and give him a nice welcome party. They also mentioned if Tango would like, when he woke up, he was welcome to join them.
He smiled even more seeing Cub, Jevin, Zed, and Impulse offer to come along with Etho. All of them eager to get some materials they ‘desperately’ needed.
Tango then frowned once he realized it was 11:30 am. He cursed himself for not waking up when he should’ve to give himself enough time to properly prepare for Jimmy’s arrival.
His stomach growled, prompting him to kick his legs over the side of his bed and groan as all of the blood rushed down his body. His tail flicked back and forth as he rubbed his nape, massaging it gently before coaxing himself to actually get up.
He planted his clawed feet onto the ground, feeling a chill zip up his spine as he did. If sitting up didn’t wake him, that certainly did.
When he actually stood up, he stretched again and gave himself a moment to adjust to the sudden lightheaded sensation. He rubbed tears out of his eyes, the ones he usually got in the morning, and finally began shuffling into his kitchen to make something.
Tango didn’t want to make anything complicated for breakfast. Not only because he didn’t have the skills to make anything complicated, but also because he’d barf up anything too hardy.
Tango was really nervous and no amount of silly chat messages on his communicator would help.
He settled for eggs and toast; nothing was more simple than that. And thus, he didn’t have to worry about seeing his breakfast later after he’d already eaten it.
It smelled lovely, the eggs and toast cooking, especially with the various spices he’d gathered earlier that season. He’d almost say it was nostalgic, and he supposed at this point it was, but there weren’t luxuries like this in the nether.
As he sat down with his plate, it looked similar to the first real meal he’d ever had. The one he got when he randomly appeared in the Hermitcraft server back in season 2.
Minus the bacon, because it was too hardy for him today. But back then…
Tango hadn’t realized how starved he was.
—
Eggs looked nasty when he first saw them. All spongy and yellow, with flecks of black pepper and crystal salt. Who ate crystals?
The mustached man across from Tango seemed so nervous, waiting for Tango to do… something. Tango didn’t speak any English then, only his native tongue, so he didn’t know what was supposed to be in front of him.
He recognized bacon, though this bacon was pinker and redder, rather than brown and black when tender. But the eggs and toast were quite foreign to say the least.
“This is all we have on deck right now,” The mustached man spoke, trying to look friendly despite his hesitance, “So, sorry if it’s not much.”
Tango raised an eyebrow, trying to show this very tall, and very nice, mustached man that he couldn’t understand him.
“He doesn’t speak english, I think,” The man with the visor said fiddling with his new communicator, huffing in frustration when it didn’t do what he wanted it to.
“Aw, well- he’s looking at the plate like he’s never seen eggs before-! How’s he supposed to eat if he doesn’t know it’s food?” The mustached man asked, still soft spoken despite his desperation.
“Well, how about ya try to show ‘em that it’s okay to eat,” The long haired, blue shirted man offered, nodding towards Tango’s direction.
“I- wha-? Fine. But I can’t believe this guy doesn’t know what eggs are,” The mustached man sighed, grabbing a fork from a nearby drawer and sitting across from Tango.
Tango wanted to be more friendly towards these humans. Well, as far as he could tell, they were humans.
He couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen a human. Nor could he remember one that looked at him as kindly as these three did. Or one that wanted him to eat so bad, he ate eggs in front of him to coax him like he was three.
Tango took his own fork, which, at the time, he didn’t know was a fork, and speared a clump of eggs with little dexterity. He placed the eggs in his mouth and began chewing.
The nether didn’t have food, not like this. Tango didn’t know you could actually enjoy eating. That meals could mean more than survival.
Tangos eyes widened, leaning over to scoop as many of the eggs into his mouth. He eagerly munched on the bread. And the bacon, Hells Bellow the bacon, was so delicious. He’d never had a meal so large before.
Feasts were usually only for special occasions, and this was a large feast!
“Geez- how hungry were you?” The man with the visor asked, his eyes smiling brightly at Tango.
“I’m glad you ate, mate,” The mustached man began before hesitantly extending a hand, “I’m Mumbo, by the way.”
Tango raised another eyebrow. Not only at the hand gesture, one he wasn’t familiar with, but also at the words the mustached man had said. Said man furrowed his brows in confusion before suddenly looking very flustered.
“Sorry-“ he said, moving his hand to his chest, “Me. I’m Mumbo.”
Mumbo. Tango could understand that.
“Xisuma,” The man with the Visor said, placing his own hand to his chest, his eyes not glancing at the small device in his hands even once.
Xisuma. Tango could understand that too.
“I’m Joe Hills,” The long haired, blue shirted man smiled, “and you are?”
Joe Hills. Tango liked that name.
But he didn’t know why suddenly all three of the men, Mumbo, Xisuma, and Joe Hills, were looking at him. Had Joe Hills said something? What did he say at the end? Like Tango could even understand what he said.
“Ah, okay… uhh…,” Joe Hills began, walking up towards Mumbo, “Mumbo.”
He placed a hand on Mumbo’s shoulder.
“Xisuma,” Joe Hills placed a hand on said individual before placing a hand on his own chest, “Joe.”
Then, Joe Hills pointed a finger at Tango and pressed it against his chest, “You?”
Tango felt his head pause. They… wanted to know his name? Were they serious? At least, that’s what Tango assumed they wanted.
Tango opened his mouth, a little too eagerly, trying to rasp out a word, but not being able to. He cleared his throat, and coughed.
“Tango. TangoTek,” He said, his voice raspy, higher pitched, and rough. He smiled softly at the sight of all three of ‘em brightening at having heard his name.
“Tango. Well that’s a quite lovely name,” Mumbo smiled, glancing at his other two companions.
The other two nodded.
That gamble, that rip in the fabric of Tango’s reality. Bright, shifting purple, ebbing and flowing with the nether winds. A gamble for something new.
He’d heard of nether portals, before, but it was different.
A portal in the nether with no frame. He would had never gotten an opportunity like that again. He leapt, and dove face first into soft, green… something.
The green stuff was like roots, but with the shape of sword blades. It billowed with the wind. It was like waves of lava, but it was green. Deep, emerald green.
Then, there was endless expanse right above him, like the horizon of the nether, but forever up. And it was blue. Only warped fungus was blue. But this blue was soft and light. And this place- whatever it was, was so bright. The big thing in the sky, the white ball of flames, it was so, so bright.
This was the over world, like the stories he’d heard. Tango was glad he made that gamble.
This place was miles better than the nether.
—
He’d just finished his breakfast when he got the first of many messages on his communicator.
Impulse: HEY Tango, you need to come to spawn.
Tango raised his eyebrow and placed his dish in the sink, lazily scrubbing it knowing his friends could wait.
Zedaph: Tango seriously respond we know you’re not sleeping anymore
Okay, that was weird. Zed usually wasn’t so… harsh? Tango knew he had a tendency to let his own anger and frustrations out, but Zed? It wasn’t possible to read tone over text, but knowing Zed, and Tango knew him very well, he was stressed.
Tango picked up the pace, quickly finishing his dishes and turning off the faucet. He dried his hands and picked up his communicator to see 2 new messages.
Etho: Tango uhhh yea we kinda need you
Etho: really whenever you’re available
A new one popped up
Cubfan: we found something
Hm. Tango didn’t like that.
He hurriedly walked to his armory and donned his elytra, grabbing some fireworks and quickly walking toward the window that Xisuma had flown through the other day.
He climbed up on the sill, feeling the wings on his back spread in preparation for flight. Tango glanced to the ground to his right, where his rotted, half eaten apple lay on the ground.
He grimaced again before launching himself out of the window and rocketing into the bright blue sky.
Tango soared with a bit of urgency, but maybe he could’ve been quicker. He had replied, telling his friends that he’d be there ASAP. Unfortunately for Tango, his friends were getting incredibly impatient.
Zedaph: Tango, hey uhhh when are you gonna get here?
Impulse: seriously dude!
Cubfan: yea it’s kinda important you’re here
iJevin: Hey Tango, Impulse and Zed are freaking out, please get here
Xisuma: is something the matter? These messages are really beginning to concern me
Impulse: YES! SOMETHING IS VERY MUCH SO THE MATTER!
Xisuma: I’ll be there
Anxiety pooled in Tango’s gut, making him get all sweaty. The ground was rushing past him fast enough to make him motion sick, and even though his breakfast was light, it was fixing to make a second appearance.
Just then, spawn came into view, beautiful and serene (if you ignored the Hermits screaming at Tango to ‘come here’).
His feet collided with the ground harshly and he landed with an ‘uhmff’. Shaking off the impact, running his fingers through the flames that had unknowingly brewed on his scalp whilst flying over. He calmed them, as he always did, leaving his usual hair in their wake.
“Welp, your favorite hermit has arrived. What is it you guys wanted to show me?” Tango asked, forcing humor into his tone despite his anxiety, but only met with no real response other than a vague huff in amusement.
He looked up at the group of Hermits at spawn. There was Etho, Cub, Jev, Impulse and Zed. As well as some others drifting about the spawn, interested in the drama, but not interested enough to actually get involved.
Now, with Tango here, it was noticeably more quiet. It was strange. Each person had this… look on their face. It didn’t sit right with Tango.
Only Etho could look Tango in the eyes, and his eyes were full of something. They overflowed with some deep emotion and knowledge that he couldn’t place. If Tango was a little more frustrated, a little more ‘over it’, he could’ve called that look pity.
Cub then looked up from the ground and met Tango’s gaze.
“Tango- we didn’t-“ Cub began, cutting himself off in a loss for words. His eyes, once soft and swimming with regret, now were hard with guilt.
Zed, previously harsh and adamant on his presence at spawn, had this horrible look. This look of anxiety fueled remorse definitely did not help with Tango’s already present nausea. And what was worse was his silence.
“I- Tango… we know how you feel about nether stuff,” Impulse started, carefully approaching, “and there aren’t any others of you on the server.”
Hellions, Tango noted, is what ‘you’ meant.
In Impulse’s arms was a small swaddle of blankets, obscuring Tango’s view of what was in it. Something that Impulse was cradling. Something that would need blankets would probably be fragile, and Tango furrowed his brow trying to figure out what could be in them. Possibly a nether relic? That would make sense why they needed Tango. They needed him to identify it.
It might have words on it, in an old nether language, and it made him a little sick in the stomach to think he might have to read Hellspeak in front of all of his friends. To then translate it. A little, no, a big part of him didn’t want it to be a relic.
“We all know how you joined Hermitcraft,” Impulse paused to huff a laugh, “We’ve heard the story a million times. You just appeared randomly in the server, not even at spawn. You never really told anyone how you got there.”
“Or anything before that, actually,” Impulse continued, staring at the ground, his gaze just occasionally glancing at the bundle in his arms.
“Okay…? What am I here for?” Tango asked, feeling tension run up his body, and he was fighting to keep his cool and to keep his hair from igniting. Though, most of the time, that kind of stuff wasn’t in his control.
“Look, Tango, I need you keep an open mind,” Impulse said, hurriedly placing the bundle delicately in Tango’s arms, “and especially an open heart.”
Tango cradled it like he saw Impulse had. It had a very strange weight to it. After all, it was very heavy for its size. And, if he stayed still enough, he could vaguely feel a small amount of movement.
Almost like breathing.
“You were the only person who could help,” Impulse whispered, his voice pathetically wet as he carefully pulled the blankets back.
Tango tore his eyes away from Impulse, and onto the thing in the bundle.
His heart dropped.
Ever since he joined Hermitcraft that day, he convinced himself, deluded himself, into believing that Hellions were naturally ugly.
They were not beautiful like avians or fawns. Like merfolk or Tanukis. Like goats or sheep. Hell, not even like vexes or imps.
Hellions had no beauty. Everything they made was ugly like their sounds. Every growl, hiss, or purr was ugly. Hideous. His claws and teeth were sharp. His hair was a symbol of his anger and violence. His eyes usually bright red throughout, broken up by a white dot.
Even when Bdubs called him cool once, that was all he was. Cool.
He could never be more than a sweet, temporary reprieve. Just a one time fascination, and truly nothing more. Something that rots and goes away with all time.
While they, his friends, his life, were beautiful, forever unchanging and always. They stood as pillars of love and were his saviors from a hellish life. He could never be like them in his mind, and he came to terms with that.
It didn’t hurt anymore like it used to.
But this, seeing it in his arms, made him go numb.
He couldn’t feel anything, his body consumed with an infinite dread that ate him alive. It numbed his ears, he couldn’t hear. It numbed his legs like he wasn’t standing. And it numbed his eyes, as it gave him tunnel vision.
Because this, this thing in the blankets, it was beautiful. It was everything he swore Hellions couldn’t be. The very thing he had convinced himself HE couldn’t be.
So shockingly beautiful for something so hellish.
In his arms, was a baby. Judging by its little pointed ears, shimmering hair, and skinny tail, similar to his own, it was a Hellion. Like him.
And it was beautiful.
What hurt him, what made him wanna scream, cry, yell, and fight everyone around him, was its tail.
There was no flame. No flicker. No nothing. It made him sick. It made him angry. It made him want to rip the world apart.
Because he swore he’d never love a Hellion. He’d said all Hellions were disgusting.
But this baby, it had a small dot in the middle of its forehead. This dot shimmered and shined like fresh magma.
It was a baby girl.