((Requested by the amazing Jazthefox16 Okay, I finally got motivated to write for once. Enjoy everybody!))

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"How much was Ariana Griande, hm?" Iskall quirks one of his eyebrows and thins his lips. His organic eye stares down at the documented paper on how the stocks at Sahara have been. He flips through a few more papers clipped together before setting the pile of papers down on the stretched glass table.

Grian beams with a simple shrug, truthfully not entirely sure how much his rip-off persona cost. The expense was probably way more exaggerated than he made it out to be, but it was still fun to toy around with Mumbo and Iskall. To see their faces drop at the falsely claimed amount he has spent was plain amusing.

"Hold up one second. Give me a minute," Mumbo states with a playful grin of his own. He stands up from his chair to exit out of the hole in the window. "Meet me out front," with that said, he hops out of the meeting room and soars into the sky before his figure disappears from view.

Iskall turns to Grian. "Do you think he is getting diamonds from his chest?"

"I don't know," Grian's lips carve the same smile as he shrugs again. "We will break even!" Grian cheers while standing. He dashes out of the broken meeting room window to fly upwards. Iskall stands up quickly to follow suit.

When they both landed on the pathway in front of Sahara, gazing at the torn down diamond pile while doing so, Mumbo stumbles downward seemingly out of nowhere and tosses five-diamond blocks on the ground. His feet land unsteadily on the ground before he places his hands on his hips in a smug attitude.

"Would you look at that! We broke even!" Mumbo exclaims with an all silly attitude. Grian's lips pressed on another smile, but it suddenly vanished. His face contorts as sheer pain suddenly begins to sprout on his shoulder blades. Luckily, Iskall and Mumbo were too distracted, hence the Laugh™ from Iskall, so Grian was relieved when they didn't see his nose or lips scrunch as a result of affliction.

The sudden agony was weird, he didn't understand what was happening. A guess of him growing old wouldn't do because he was still fairly young and healthy. His hands ball into a terrifying white for he just wants to scream. It felt as if his flesh was ripping on his shoulder blades and he didn't know what to do or how to handle the pain.

Even after a few minutes of pure silence from Grian, he still found the painful sensation increasing as it spreads across his entire backside. His spine lightly arches at the extremely uncomfortable feeling, as if speared bedrock is pounding into his body to tear his muscles. It was getting harder to breathe, and for a moment, Grian feared he was going to pass out.

After another small bundle of dragging minutes, Iskall twists his head to look at Grian, who remains planted in the spot without moving or even twitching. His Swedish companion waves his hand from a small afar in hopes that can catch Grian's lost gaze, but it seems to be fruitless.

"Mumbo?" Iskall tugs on Mumbo's black sleeve to point at Grian. They both moved their attention to the boy, and when both pairs of eyes stare down at him, Grian flinches. He seemed to recognize the cold glares of two pairs of eyes, but when he came back to his full senses of reality, he only realized it was his friends ogling him.

Both of their eyes silently demanded an answer. Grian can see the swirling recognition of that familiar emotion, and it brought a singe of anxiety to well into his already clenched chest. His breathing grew irregular, fast, and ragged. With the sudden drop of happiness in the joyful evening, he felt as if he was the one to blame.

"I have to- to go!" Grian said, a bit louder than necessary. He took a step in what felt like centuries and immediately fell to his knees. His elbows took a rough toll, his sleeves raising and his elbows scraping across the ground. Iskall and Mumbo rush over to him and quickly sit on their knees.

"Grian, are you okay?" Mumbo questions before Iskall can ask the same. Iskall smiles sadly and Mumbo rubs his shoulder. Grian would be lying if he said the rubbing comfort didn't feel nice, but he shoved the thought away since he didn't want to bring any more issues. He presses his hands on both of their chests to push them away in unison. His legs find the strength to stand up, wavering gently, and he grabs his rockets.

"I'm fine, just- just-" he cut himself short, sprinting away and using a rocket to fly into the air, leaving Iskall and Mumbo questioning what just happened.

---

Two weeks. Two whole weeks that slowly pulled out into anguishing hours, hours to minutes, and minutes into deliberate seconds that seem to tick in slow motion. Season 7 has officially started, but Grian informed Xisuma that he will be late on the opening arrival because of an inconvenience. So, Xisuma told Grian to take his time and he will keep the Season jump portal fully lit for when Grian is ready.

The Hermits have already begun their starter bases, but Grian was still stuck in his giant Futuristic build. It will only be a matter of time before someone notices his absence and frantically goes on a hunt for him.

A loud whimper tears out of Grian's throat as he sobs harshly. He grips onto the iron rim of his bucket and prepares himself for another round of puking. The pain is so immense, he has thrown up and resorted to using a bucket for these random bursts of discomfort. He hacks inside his bucket friend, more tears sliding down his face and mixing into the reek of his vomit.

Brilliant blue eyes clenching tightly, he throws his sweater off and the plain t-shirt. With all the squirming and movement, not to mention the balmy increase in weather, his body grew hotter to where he was sweating. He didn't notice the signature Evo symbol and purple swirls lining on his torso.

"Oh gosh, just make the pain end," Grian clutches onto his hair and presses his elbows on the ground. At last, the worst of it sears through, sinking into the tissues of his body as he wails. His screams are laced with sheer pain, and he cannot catch his breath for it is intolerable. An overwhelming amount of tears dribble down his crimson cheeks.

He knew what was coming, for the flashbacks of the Watchers called inside of his mind. They have told him to tuck his wings away when leaving Evo, being polite since they are nice. Xisuma said Grian can have his wings free and out, but Grian refused under the gentle command of the Watchers, for the Watchers are his friends and he doesn't want to be ignorant.

But the price has returned with prodding stabs, ruthless throbbing, and ripping muscles. He couldn't grasp onto the air, but he tried to swallow down as much as possible so he could seize his consciousness, no matter how many black speckles began to bustle inside of his vision.

Shredding past his soft flesh, two wings emerge from his back gracefully. With body fluids and blood-soaked lavender feathers, they ruffle as he finally breaths in. The worst is now over, all the pain that has been collecting is dying. He couldn't help but continue to sob because his body ached tremendously and the process just completed.

Grian cries for another moment. He felt relief now and happiness flooded his mind. For a second, he could've been mistaken, but he thought he heard a soft padder of unstable feet stepping beside him. His wings fall flatly along his body.

"...Grian?" Mumbo spoke with evident reluctance for he cannot understand the full situation before him. Grian's watery eyes snap open and he glances up at Mumbo from his uncomfortable position on the concrete ground. He gives Mumbo a gentle smile and wipes some of his tears so his blurry eyesight can clear up.

"Oh, Mumbo-" he coughs and adds a tiny whimper before forcing a strained smile. "How are you?"

Mumbo sits down on his knees and tries to read the entirety of what happened. The red sweater and grey shirt belonging to Grian are tossed aside on the ground. A bucket, with a disgusting odor of vomit, is settled in front of Grian, as he hunches over his knees with beautiful wings blooming from his back.

Mumbo can only make an assumption, for the pieces of the puzzle were not sticking together properly. He doesn't know much about Grian's history before Hermitcraft, so he wasn't sure where the wings were from. The wings, Mumbo noticed, have a solid gold trim at the top as the rest of it is a silky, soft purple. They looked like elytra wings, around the same shade of gentle purple, but more advanced because of the thick layers of feathers.

"Grian, these- how-" He stumbled over his words as if his stupidity was speaking for him, or because he was stunned by the complexion the wings behold. He found them to be, well, simply astonishing. He has never seen such wings in his entire life, nor did he ever expect to see wings like this for as long as he lives. Especially in person, where he can trace his fingers across the edges and examine the pretty details that lay hidden within the feathers.

"Well, I guess the cat is out of the bag, huh?" Grian smiles and sits down. He wasn't sure why he was so cool with being completely calm. There was no reason to panic or freak out because it would only make the situation worse, so he just sat down, wings falling down his back like a cape and pooling on the ground.

Mumbo gets into a more comfortable position and shuffles to take a good observation. He noticed all of the sticky substance of blood on the wings, so he perks up a smile with a bright idea coming to his mind.

"Can I-" he wasn't sure how to put it into words, simply because he thought the question was embarrassing. "Can I wash them, or at least clean them? Because... they look gross, no offense."

Grian looks over his shoulder while casting a smile. If it means to spend time with one of the closest Hermits, he was perfectly fine with it. He was fine with any of the Hermits, but Mumbo was a special case because they have a closer bond. He was a little embarrassed by the awful stench of vomit, his flushed face because of crying, receiving compliments, and to top it off, him being completely shirtless.

But Mumbo didn't seem to care about some of the factors. He offers to take out the bucket and then wash his Watcher wings. Grian finally complied after a moment of begging from Mumbo, so Mumbo didn't waste a breath to toss the bucket out and bring Grian to a quick hand made tub. He used clean buckets to pour water inside before looking through Grian's mass monstrosity of storage, finding a colorful hippie brand bar of soap that smells like lemons.

Grian was flustered, even after he got his crying to dissolve away. He sits on the edge rim of the white tub as Mumbo sits next to him. He collects water into a plastic cup, pouring it down Grian's back and pressing the long flat end of the bar onto his wings.

"Did I mention how pretty these are?" Mumbo begins another series of stringed compliments. Grian can only hide his face in his hands as a reply. The soap bar gently strokes down the direction that the feathers are facing. Bubbles tinted yellow begin to form and the sweet scent of lemons fill their noses. It was truly delightful.

"Mumbo shut up." Crossing his arms over his bare chest, Grian whines. "But thank you anyway."

The man can only smile back as he continues to clean them. It wasn't just the wings that he found attractive. He found the man occupying them to be more marvelous, whether he had wings or not. He may not be able to say that out loud, but at least he knows Grian is gorgeous.

°•gor·geous•°

/ˈɡôrjəs/

adjective

beautiful; very attractive, especially in a sense of how someone perceives another individual.