Chapter Text
As Watches go -
Hermitcraft, Pix knows, is one of the best. It's a fun server - peaceful, usually, with occupants who feud and squabble and tiff but don't hate each other. They're - builders, mostly, and engineers, and architects, and storytellers, and it's a - privileged position, honestly, to be in charge of Watching them. Of telling their story.
The fact that their Admin is a Voidwalker makes it easier, honestly.
Someone who - knows about him and Zloy. And Lyarrah, when she'd joined them, their Listener third - Xisuma hadn't looked at all surprised when Pixl had popped in, awkward in his mortal form, to let him know that they had another observer keeping track of the server.
He's been - nothing but a gracious admin. Permissive, almost to a fault, in terms of letting them access the server - but there's steel under his velvet, Pixl knows. The walls of Hermitcraft are unyielding things, and if Xisuma wanted the three of them gone -
Well, it wouldn't be a contest. Not with the Dev's Grace that trails Xisuma everywhere he goes, that faint but ever-watchful notice that eddies behind him, an imperceptible warning to anything other that might threaten the admin and his server.
The three of them have met Dinnerbone, too. The Dev had - appeared, in the nothing, all light and surging power and a cordial smile.
They had been judged by a God, and - not found wanting, apparently. He had been perfectly pleasant. He had greeted them, and introduced himself, and left them unharmed.
Other Watchers, Pixl knows, have not been so lucky. There was a reason the posting was unfilled before them, after all.
But other Watchers -
Are none of his concern. He and Zloy don't - they stay out of politics. Keep their heads low, and avoid notice, and they've done well for themselves, like that. They've found a good server to watch, one that none of the other Watchers dare to get too close to, and they've convinced its patron Dev and his Voidwalker admin that they aren't threats, and that's -
All Pixl wants, really. All any of them want.
Years pass.
It's easy to forget how long it's been since they've seen another Watcher.
-----
He isn't surprised when Xisuma shows up outside the camper-van they've set up shop in.
Even during seasons, the admin's visits aren't infrequent, exactly. Irregular, sure, but he shows up every so often, with hot food or a handmade gift or - something. A gift.
It's nice. They've tried convincing him that they don't need to eat - but Lyarrah enjoys the food in a way that Watchers can't, and they all enjoy the company.
In between seasons, he's a more frequent visitor.
It always feels a little strange, seeing him with his helmet off, void trailing from his lips like dripping poison as he breathes in the too-thin atmosphere of the place between worlds. Not bad, though, just - odd, after watching him so often with his rebreather equipped.
Still, it's nice to have the expressiveness of his eyes - to be able to Watch the way his face conveys his feelings in a way that's harder when he's got the mask on.
And today - he's worried.
"We - have a new player," he tells them, and that's always exciting news. Pix leans in, curious, and is surprised when Xisuma - doesn't pull up the playerdata he was expecting. "He's - this can't be reported back to your superiors. I'm serious."
That's -
That's the first time anyone's asked that of them, and Pixl lools over at Zloy at about the same time that Zloy looks over at him. Lyarrah, in the kitchen, looks over at both of them, because -
The thing is - they all know that no one is reading their reports.
Oh - their superiors would love to sink claws and teeth and eyes into Hermitcraft - that's never been in question. And the data that Pixl and Zloy take - it would help, sure -
But Dinnerbone is far from the only god that has ever walked on Hermitcraft. There are things beyond Watchers, and the thought of those eyes turned on them...
It's enough to keep even the Elder Watchers in line.
"I'm sure we can redact a bit," Pixl tells the admin diplomatically. "What's going on with this new player that you're worried about us?"
Xisuma meets his eyes for a long moment -
But he must like what he sees there. Or - they've known each other for years, Pixl considers, so maybe it's just trust, but -
"He's a Watcher," Xisuma says, and it's Zloy who doesn't manage to hold back the choked noise.
"I'm sorry - he's a what?"
-----
It - takes a while, to get the whole story out of Xisuma. Or - well, it's obviously not the whole story - it's almost impressively short on details, but -
There's a Watcher joining the server. Nobody knows where he came from, but he ran away - and if the Watchers ever find him -
"They'd tear your server apart," Pixl tells Xisuma, unable to keep the admiration out of his tone, because Xisuma has gotten himself in deep this time. "Oh - no question. Yeah, that's -"
"You won't tell?" the admin asks, and Zloy snorts.
"Obviously not," he says. "This is the best job I've ever had. Last thing I want is for you to get noticed."
"We can... cut around it," Pixl agrees easily enough. "Um - will he be openly Watching on-server? Because that's going to make it harder - not unmanagable -"
But the admin waves a hand. "He's got a mortal skin cooked up," he tells them. "Avian. Thought it would fit well with the new elytra we're adding this season, give him an excuse for being clumsy in the air at first."
He pauses, and then -
"Lyarrah? Are you...?"
"Look, Xisuma," she says, grinning, "My records are complete as transcribed. My job is not to pick out what's going to matter to our bosses - if these two idiots don't think something's worth including in a recap, well, that's no skin off my teeth."
Xisuma considers that, for a moment, and smiles.
"Thank you," he says, softer. "I - really, it means a lot to me. All three of you, you've made this, well -"
"As easy as it can be?" Pixl gives him a thumbs up. "I mean, with the players you have, you've earned it, really -"
That gets him a laugh, something easy and relieved and more like the Xisuma they're used to. "I have," he says, and sobers. "But - really. Thanks."
"Anytime," Pixl tells him, not entirely sure how true that is even himself -
But Xisuma is still smiling as he rises, and twists, and there's no admin left as they're abandoned, alone, in the void.
-----
The other Watcher - Xelqua, they learn the moment they turn their Eyes on him, but he calls himself Grian and so, in deference, do they - must know that they're Watching.
Pixl would know, if he was being Watched. It's a familiar feeling, though not common, anymore, that distant pricking awareness as one of his fellows turns their Gaze on him for a moment.
That's what makes it surprising that he hasn't felt it yet. Grian has, apparently, not bothered to Look their way yet - not even when Pixl or Zloy are Watching him.
He doesn't seem entirely uncomfortable with it, though, so - Xisuma must have mentioned them, at some point. Or - Dinnerbone is - paying closer attention than usual, honestly, circling like a leviathan above them, noticeable mostly for the shadow he casts below -
Pixlriffs and Zloy have not survived this long by questioning the Dev's interest in Hermitcraft or its players. Starting now feels like it would be a terrible idea.
So - Xelqua calls himself Grian, and takes on a mortal guise, and is Grian. That's how they write it, in all their recaps, with no mention of the violet that sometimes flashes in his eyes, or the eyes that open to the world when he sleeps, watching for threats, or the fact that he flies awkwardly, at first, as if his parrot wings are dim replacements for something vaster and more terrible.
Grian -
Grian is a better player than most players, if Pixl is being honest with himself.
He wears the disguise perfectly, is the thing. There's a lightness in his movements that feels alien, when Zloy tries, one day, to replicate it. There's a fierce joy to his expression when he pulls off a prank that Pixl has never known - and he's always, always, been too emotional for a Watcher -
And he's a prankster. That in itself - it shatters the mold. Watchers - even Zloy, even Pixl, as ineffective as they are - aren't pranksters. The act of pranking is - it's a narrative, something sacred and so profoundly Player that it hardly even registers the first time Grian stands up in a meeting and proposes a minigame.
It's fascinating.
It's the sort of thing the Watchers would very much like to stamp out.
It's -
Pixl doesn't know how to describe it. How to explain it, how to react, how to feel about - about the fact that there is a Watcher who is Player, who is Playing the game and doing it well enough that none of his servermates even seem to question him as one of them.
Grian is an enigma. Grian is a fascination that Pixl can't help but Watch. He knows Zloy Watches, too - that Lyarrah keeps one ear turned to him, listening for signs of scheming that will let her warn them that something interesting is about to happen.
Maybe it's a fixation. Maybe it's - a little too forwards.
-----
One day, Grian wakes up, and Pixl watches him absently. He eats his breakfast, and brushes his dog, and steps out into the sunlight -
And shivers, as if someone had just walked over his grave.
Black eyes close.
Violet eyes open - a halo of them, as radiant as Pixl's own, staring back at him.
It would be disconcerting, if they were not two of the same kind.
"Oh," Grian says, Lyarrah mouthing the words along as she Listens, intent. "You've - you've been Watching me."
And violet wings explode into being as the avian dissolves and a Watcher soars up to meet the void.