Chapter Text
Gentle vibrations shuddered through his blanket. Gradually, he was dragged into a form of glowing consciousness, enough so that his hand found its place atop Maui’s head, fitting there like a wave upon a beach. His hands always moved before his eyes had a chance to open. Cracking his lids open, his world became entirely comprised of Maui’s purring, almost smiling face mere inches away, tiny cat breathes tickling his chin. His paws were folded under him, putting pressure right above his sternum. While Maui was no a hefty cat, laying his full weight in such a way was a considerable load. Not that Grian would ever complain. He loved waking up like this.
“Did you sleep well?” His voice was drowsy.
Maui chirped a response. Pearl, at the foot of the bed, leaning against Grian’s shin, parroted him, then stretched to the ceiling, hoping off the bed with a kitty harrumph. The two interlaced their tails together as they coyly looked behind, eyes full of thoughts of breakfast. Grian guessed it was pretty late in the morning for them to get up and moving so fast, without a second consideration to wait and snuggle under his arms for just five more minutes.
Groaning as he hauled off his blankets, he did some stretching of his own. A minor kink in his neck clicked satisfactorily after reaching his arms up. Now bare, his arms shivered in the cold of the bedroom. The curtains were colored gold from the warm sun, and it was early spring, but a chill remained. He was a bit impatient with how long the cold weather was taking so he had left the window open and buried himself under multiple blankets. He was ready for it to be spring, true spring. The seasons never addled his imagination and drive to build, but it was so much easier to lose himself in work when the sun also lost its way across the sky and decided to stick around.
To him, winters should have been placed at the end of the year, not the beginning. He wanted each year to start fresh with spring, grow into summer and cozy up in the autumn in preparation for winter, as if the year was a music box slowing its tune as the springs loosened. With another winter gone by, he could celebrate another year living in Hermitcraft. Another tally mark.
The cats complained loud and clear over how he was still in bed, so he complied with their demands.
One thing Grian always found strange about cats was their inability at certain times to walk in a straight line. They seemed to put great effort into leading him to a place he visited every day, the kitchen, so it confused him why they were also adamant at getting underfoot, especially while he was on the stairs.
“Stop trying to kill me. You won’t get breakfast that way.”
Pearl meowed innocently.
“You’re a little better missy. It’s you—” Grian scooped up the tortoise shell that curled itself around his foot. “That I’m most suspicious of. And that cuddling is getting more brazen every day. Nearly suffocated me in my sleep.”
As he carried Maui in his arms, the joke soured in his throat. Surely, he would wake up if that were to happen. He couldn’t just die like that. People didn’t die that easily.
I really hope so.
Some people fell right off their feet. And died. A simple bump on the head and they were no more. Or the culprit could be a centimeter long cat scratch, left uncleaned.
Maui wriggled once Grian crossed the threshold of the kitchen. Grian opened his arms up quickly to drop Maui. He examined his arms. Clean.
Of course they are. Maui and Pearl never scratch. They’re good cats.
He prepped breakfast for his cats first. It was out of compassion and necessity, since if he took care of his own meal first he would never hear the end of it. Pearl and Maui’s shared food bowl was always filled with kibble, as they were free feeding cats. However, they were prissy and wouldn’t eat the stale pieces unless they were mixed in with something fresher.
Grian poured new kibble in, then looked over the rest in the bag. Nearly empty. He needed to get more. Taking a closer look, the bowl his cats ate from had a slight chip in the porcelain. He needed to make a new one.
He smiled. Yes, it was a new chore on his always cluttered list, but it gave him a welcome respite to make something new and enlist a Hermits help. Joe was pretty good with pottery, surprisingly, which meant Grian had a perfect chance to meet up and spend the day together. With him being on the cusp of winter and spring, he wanted to do more things with Hermits, as that made the time fly by.
Today was busy, at least the first half. Etho recently finished the last details on his base. Finishing touches were always the hardest part, so they were a cause for celebration when a Hermit could stand back and be wholly proud of their build. He was going to give a mini tour to Grian, Scar, and Mumbo around noon.
Grian looked at the clock. He had a lot of time before noon. He went through the motions of preparing his breakfast sullenly. The cold floors—he refused to wear socks in bed—frustrated him as it was only another reminder of how obstinate he was being over it not “being winter” anymore. Grian was able to do a lot of things, and that included taking a looksee over his actions and actually seeing how childish he was.
He liked winter. It just wasn’t spring.
Springs were so much more and so much safer. He didn’t know how, they just were. With more to do, more blush in people’s cheeks, he was surrounded by this bubble of community, a shield against pesky fears like the ones taking root as he watched an egg cook over the stove.
It’s almost spring. C’mon, what do I need to do to make it get here faster?
He groaned loudly. Maui, perched on a barstool, cocked his head at him.
“Maui, I know what we’re going to do today: we’re going to invent a way to move forward in time and prevent it from moving on. Think we can do it?”
Maui blinked at him.
“Yeah. Figured.” He flipped the egg over in the pan. As it sizzled, a melancholy fell over him. His thoughts put on an overused music disk in the base of his skull, playing a discouraging tune about the facts of his life.
The indomitable fact that was going to live through this day. Then the next. And the next, years passing until he couldn’t live in Hermitcraft anymore. And then his death. Or, not quite a death, but a stage direction to exit left. Grian wasn’t granted a normal end, not even an end at all. His deal with the Watchers was a single chance to live as a player again. Their influence was hooked into his code even in the Overworld, but it was what he had always dreamed of: a full life. As a servant to the Watchers, he was tasked with watching over Hermitcraft from its very start. His roots as a player, roots that the Watchers thought were completely severed, grew into an insatiable force, pushing him past his cowardice and asking, pleading, to have a go at it. They had agreed. Let him be a player once again, but not forevermore. When this body died, the game was up. Instead of an end, or a new beginning, his old life would resume, right back to where he left off, under their imposing gaze.
He flicked off the stove and slid the egg onto a plate. With the stove off, all he could hear was his thoughts. Anxiety crept up his arms and legs. Maybe he should be more careful. Give more thought to the placement of his feet. One small slip and—Poof! Game over. He could die any day now.
He forced himself to scoff at the idea. He was being dramatic, and in turn forgetting a crucial task he had to undertake whenever he made eggs. Both Pearl and Maui were waiting on barstools, expectant. He tore off two small chunks of egg white. Blowing on it first to cool it, he presented each hand to his cats. Their miniscule front teeth rasped against the pads of his fingers, and then they licked it clean. A smile broke out on his face, crinkling his eyes.
He had his cats. He had the Hermits. He had his place in Hermitcraft. That had to be enough, at least for a good while.
Turning away from the counter, he washed his hands in the sink. His own breakfast was getting cold, but he wasn’t thinking about that, he was thinking about how rough cat tongues were, and not at all about how everything he relied on couldn’t last forever.
Any day now. Isn’t that inevitable?
“As if,” he said aloud.
He had a full life ahead of him.