Xerean has grown very annoyed. 

Jabber won't let her near the portal anymore. She'll teleport her any distance away, even once going to the Nether roof, but mostly, just outside of Grian's base. Everyone else can go in just fine, except for her. Xerean suspects that Jabber expects her to try and go through again. Then she should just SAY that. She growls, shoving Helsknight back. They're in the middle of a sparring match, but rather than have her use her abilities, they're doing good old fashioned sword fighting. Hels, being the most gifted with the blade out of the three of them, is the unspoken teacher. Well, maybe teacher is the wrong word. Most of it is simply him just throwing himself at her, and Xerean reacting. EX, watching from the sides, will call out occasional tips, but mostly, she's left to learn her own way to go about it. So far, she's not won once, but she's still working hard. And she can understand how Hels finds it a good way to blow off some steam. Raising her sword, she readies herself to charge at him again, but when she goes to swing, he disappears. Or, more accurately, she does. It still stops abruptly, but only because Jabber's caught it. "What?" She sighs, taking her sword back. "I've come to make an announcement." She declares, shifting to lean back slightly. "That couldn't have waited until I wasn't in the middle of something?" Xerean points out, the sword in her hand disappearing. "No, it's important! More important than letting that knight win." Xerean feels her shoulders tense; she's not letting him win. There's a difference between making sure I don't horribly maim or kill my friend and letting him win. Jabber shrugs. "Could've fooled me. Anyway, this is pretty big. Your Watcher friend? Talked to the weird dimension-hopping robot. The robot gave him some compasses, so now, they're going to congregate and try going into the Rift." Xerean blinks a few times, hearing the words but not able to grasp it in full. "Who's 'they all'?" She asks, and Jabber shrugs. "Your Watcher's friends. There's like, 16 of them or something. A big amount. Anyway, the Rift IS done, but I'm not sure how well it'd work if several people went in all at once. So you can either stop them from going, or go with them to protect them. I couldn't care less about what happens to them. It's their fault for wanting to go in, anyway. But you seem oddly attached to them, so if you want to ensure their safety, you should make a choice." She elaborates, tone clearly indicating the indifference the Chaos Witch has. A small snake pokes out from under the collar of her jacket, a bright pale purple, though it's slightly transparent. "This is Jely. She's my pet." Jabber explains, and the serpent flicks out its tongue, then disappears into her hair.

"You couldn't have stopped him from having the compasses? And he has a name, you know." Xerean says, crossing her arms and refusing to acknowledge the actually sort of cute snake. "I can't affect things your Watcher touches. And yes, I know. I just don't care. But, if it makes you feel better," she adds, sensing Xerean's displeasure, "I can refer to him by his name. Grian's abilities are enough to greatly reduce, or entirely cancel out my own. He's done the same to you, after all. And while he may know I exist, thanks to you, I have no intention to interact with him." Xerean represses the urge to roll her eyes. "I'll see what I can do. Okay?" Jabber nods. "Oh, and, before you go...here." She disappears in a blaze of light, making the young Chaos Witch shield her eyes. When she looks back, she's in a strange place, one she knows quite well. She stands on the glass covering of an enormous pit, all the way to bedrock, not a single block left behind to hint at what this place once was, but she's well aware. The shadows of obsidian structures looming overhead are cast over her, and on the breeze, she can still smell smoke and wither decay. Is this real? She hopes that it is. She's missed them so much. "Aw, no, not again!" She breaks into a broad grin, turning to see the boy she'd gotten into so much trouble with whenever she'd been with him. "I'm ba–" In the middle of her sentence, it all disappears, and she's back in the room with Helsknight and EX. "...ck." She finishes, slightly disappointed, but hopeful. "You've been gone for an hour, Xe, where did you go?" Helsknight demands, jumping up. He'd been sharpening his sword again, a nervous habit he never admits to be, but the two have figured out. "Jabber called me up again. Apparently Grian and a bunch of the Hermits are going to go through the Rift. She was warning me it might not work out for the best, so I'll have to go supervise. I'm doubting they'll all listen to me if I tried to sway them against going; just cuz I'm officially a Hermit now doesn't mean they welcomed me entirely." She informs them, offering Hels her sword. He takes it and runs a hand over the blade, pausing where Jabber had grabbed it. "Jabber stopped the blade when she brought me to her, so there's most likely some damage." Xerean explains apologetically. The morally dark knight shrugs it off. "Nothing I can't fix." He assures her. "Cool. Now, I would love to stay, I miss seeing you guys all the time, but I have to go figure this out." EX nods, then tosses something at her. It's a compass, the words 'follow me, 8pm BST' etched into the back. "It points at Grian's base." He tells her, a critical clue. "What time is that?? I don't recognize it." EX shrugs. "Hermits have weird times. Their 'time zones' or whatever aren't exactly accurate reflections to the time here. But if I had to guess..." The masked man pauses, thinking intently. "Uh...about 6 hours from now. Again, that's just a guess, but somewhere around then." She nods gratefully, pocketing the compass. "Thanks, EX. Catch you later." They wave goodbye, and she teleports herself outside and above ground. She'll kill a few hours working on her house, then she'll go wait at the Rift for this event. Her house is placed in between Scar, Grian, and Doc, in the thick forestry. She's making a cottage, a bit bigger than her one last Season. It'll have two floors, Xisuma had suggested that, so she could have a floor for people and friends, which would be her main floor, the tip floor could hold some of her more crafty stations, such as her chair she's carving, and her messing around with her abilities. She's not exactly big on making enormous structures like the Hermits, but she does have big plans for when she's done the house. And she's been going mining and collecting her materials by hand, instead of just making them into existence herself. She wants it to be genuine, and went on a sort of tour around the server with Grian once to try and see how other people went about things and the different styles used. She took plenty of inspiration from it. At the moment, she's working on the roof, making it out of cobbled deepslate and moss, a very tedious task for her. She's even got a mind to talk with Gem and Scar about making the trees a bit denser, giving it that 'little lost cabin in the middle of the woods' feeling. Having a chest full of the remaining cobbled deepslate and moss, she sets to work, testing out patterns and making sure it turns out how she's hoping. Completing the project faster than she expected, she checks the timer she'd set up: it's been about three hours, so she decides to kill time at the Rift. "You better not send me away from it again." She mutters at the sky, jumping out of her clearing and banking to head over to Grian's place once more, but not without a few sidetracking adventures; she pauses to go fly over Doc's Perimeter hole thing, admiring the work and planning to check out his newest redstoning feats in greater detail later. She also goes to check on Scarland, and sits on the barest remnants of what are Mumbo's base. He's been off-server, and neither Grian nor Xisuma can accurately explain how he's gone and where, or what he's doing. Everyone else can understand it perfectly well, but Xerean simply doesn't understand. She tries not to dwell on it too much. 

Finally, having successfully killed another hour and a half by procrastinating, she dives down and lands gracefully in front of the Rift. It's certainly different. She can feel the power and energy, the potential radiating off of it like heat from a forge or an oven. The deep, bassy thrum reverberates enough she can literally feel it shaking her body, small rubble on the ground moving. It's definitely more active, and that excites her, but also worries her. If her father wasn't bluffing, or it wasn't a dream, then her people could come through and terrorize her home, kill her friends, and she'd be unable to stop it. The fact she managed to kill all of the other Chaos Witches before was a pure fluke, and was in no way controlled. She can't risk that happening to Hermitcraft. "Oi, Jabber, I'm betting you can hear me. I'm sure I'm not going to be able to convince the Hermits to leave the Rift alone; Grian himself is too curious for that, so I'll have to go with them in order to make sure they stay safe. But if I'm gone, our people might come to destroy my home. You got some sort of genius plan for that?" She asks, gathering the pieces of small rubble and amassing it into a putty-like substance. While it still looks and feels like a rock, it's malleable and stretchy. "It's part of my deal, isn't it? To help you protect your precious little world? I'll find a way." Jabber answers, a small comfort as Xerean starts to mold and twist the rock. She grunts, caught between trusting and untrusting. "I understand you're still hesitant to put your full faith in me. But consider: our people are not well-known for our patience, in fact if we weren't so prideful I'd go so far as to say we have ADHD or something. But here we are, we've done nothing to injure these people, instead you live among them, and I've been helping you. As I said, our kind aren't meant to be solitary beings, and while we are far older than anything else here, we are still young. There's a reason we all stay in a group until we're in our 20-30 thousands. Ironically, we're a very social species, that input from peers and having others to talk to help us grow and extend the creativity of our ideas. Therefore, you need me just as much as I need you, solely based on that fact." At least my apparent desperate desire for friendship and social interaction isn't just an insecurity. "If you've forgotten, I will point out the last time I spoke to another one of our people, he tried to kill me. And even then, before that, too. I'm not too big on placing everything I care about and have worked so hard to achieve into the hands of another. I'm desperate, yes, and you're different, but I'm not going to stop being wary of you." She clarifies. As she speaks, the rock-putty starts to take form, as she makes hand gestures and movements to mold it into what she wants. It's one of those dragonfly-dragon-lizard things she saw, specifically the one with the big blue cat-girl thing. It's a small model at the moment, but eventually, she decides to expand it to its true size, which makes it practically twice her height and takes up plenty of space. Jabber doesn't reply, so Xerean starts bleeding in the colors for the creature's skin, adding its features and inspecting it until she's satisfied. Then, she breathes out, inhales deeply, and exhales once more, willing the creature to do the same, and come to life. It squawks at her, using its wings to prop itself up, alert and observant. "What is that?!" A voice demands behind her–Doc. The creature hisses, stepping forward and opening its mouth, a set of fangs Extending out like those snakes whose fangs are tucked into the roofs of their mouths before they open it to bite something. Doc steps back, tense and wary, though this seems to have been the wrong choice. Xerean, realizing the threat, leaps forward and tackles it just before it reaches Doc, who had readied himself for a fight. Making herself not only heavier but also of an equal size, she quickly manages to wrestle the beast into the ground, leech the color from it, and cause it to be no more than a small pile of rubble that could fit in her palm. Stepping away and reverting back to her normal size, she turns around to face the redstoner. "Sorry 'bout that...I didn't know it was going to be so hostile." She says, genuinely surprised by the beast's reaction. It didn't seem to be worried about her. Maybe Doc accidentally scared it. "It almost killed me!" He objects. "Well, I intended to make it an actual creature, alive and well in this world beyond its own, which means it COULD be killed, so I would say you had at least a fair chance at winning. You guys fight DRAGONS! Or keep them as pets! You're not so easy to kill, and I doubt that thing would have been your downfall." Went off on a little bit of a tangent there, but it's fine...She thinks. Doc shifts, skeptically of her remarks. Was it too much? It was too much. Xerean wouldn't call it panic, but a bolt of...some negative feeling runs through her. "Hm. Now, what are you doing here?" He changes the subject, confronting her. "Same reason as you, I bet." She summons the compass to show him. "He gave you one too? Great." He groans, ear twitching in annoyance, and a denser stream of black smoke hisses out of the device in his neck–he isn't exactly thrilled about this information. "You may not care all too much for me, but Grian's my friend. Not only that, but I have more experience with weird portals than you lot do; I've jumped worlds. You haven't. I'm here solely to ensure you don't get lost or hurt, or even killed." She explains, a little defensively. She's been assured Doc is just worried about her being a potential threat to his home and friends, but last Season, she was getting along with him a little better. Nothing like the end of the world to bring people together, I suppose. "Hmph." The tall hybrid grumbles, looking away as awkward silence fills the space around them. What now?? Even last Season, talking to him was always awkward.

After a few moments, she figures out what she hopes is a safe topic. "Can you expel blasts from your mouth? Like, being part creeper and all." She asks carefully, Doc closely watching her as she speaks, the question hanging limp in the air as Doc decides if he wants to respond. "Yes." He replies, a little slowly. "I see. And the device in your neck, it's supposed to help make you safe to be around for other people, right?" Again, Doc confirms this. "So does any smoke escape your jaws? Or is it caught and dispersed by your implant...thing?" She waves and gestures vaguely to her own throat to indicate the metal contraption on his. "Why all the questions? Surely you have some way to find out yourself?" She shrugs. That is true, she could make a piece of paper answer it all for her, but for the situation they're in, she figured she'd engage in conversation. It'd pass more time, she reasoned, and expresses this to the hybrid. He nods once, then sits down. Xerean sits down as well, a few feet away. "The mechanism is designed to penetrate my throat, allowing it to capture the smoke I make and once it's reached a certain point, send it out in small bursts." The small spines jutting out of the back of his neck show as much. "Sometimes, a little does get past, but it's very small, and nowhere near as lethal a dose. Now, when I want to cause an explosion, I temporarily turn this machine off, allowing the smoke to freely build up in my mouth." As Doc explains, he indicates to a button on his palm, slightly indented in the metal so it doesn't get triggered if he goes to grab something. "And you made this all yourself?" She clarifies. She's not very surprised when he nods, but it's still a level of talent that greatly impresses her. He created a device for himself, using redstone and metal, as well as connected it to his robotic arm. She wonders how long it took to make. "Wow. That's...a lot of skill." He snorts. "Of course it is. Things don't get easier overnight, despite what you're capable of. We have to work for what we're good at." She makes a face; somewhere between agreement and some sort of wry, rueful expression. "I'm trying. Might not be the same, but I'm making myself a house, by hand. Nothing big, I'll leave that to the professionals, but a nice little cottage I can live in." Doc picks up one of the little rocks, and rolls it around in his hand. "You've got to ask me some questions, now it's time I ask some from you." He sets the rock down, making direct eye contact with her. "Where do you come from? I've tried to find out what little I could on my own, but it was...very little." Xerean frowns, deciding how to word this. "We–my people–have multitudes of cities, all in a pocket beyond reality. That makes us inaccessible to everyone and everything else, and only we can live in these places." She answers, choosing each word with care. "So why'd you leave? Xisuma said you're...stuck here? What's stopping you from leaving here?" Shifting uncomfortably, she takes a breath. "Call it a falling-out. My people no longer want me, so I found safe harbor here. As for why I can't just leave, I'm not sure. We're often summoned to a place, or heavily drawn to one, if it's very chaotic, where our abilities will flourish and strengthen us, and while you all certainly have your moments, it's...not enough. Something else is interfering with me, be it a curse or some sort of block from my people, or there's a hidden force here." Internally, she winces. That sounded like some sort of dramatic backstory, some kind of destiny to be fulfilled. Arguably, it is a dramatic story, but the wording could have been much better. "From what I did gather, your kind are horrible. It's like people were scared to even mention them. You supposedly killed worlds, for fun. How do I know you won't do that here?" She cocks her head, more impressed that he actually found anything than unsure what else to say. "How'd you find anything? Forthcoming as I encouraged him to be about me, don't think Xisuma would say THAT." Doc waves a hand. "There's a library made each Season, full of old books and myths and whatnot so the Admin can identify threats, but some of us also merely enjoy ancient knowledge, so we're allowed access to it. It just took a little digging." She makes a small noise, impressed. I'll have to show EX, maybe talk to Xisuma about that...he'd love it. she notes to herself, then focuses on the question. "Well, what you read is true, but like one of those cliche main character stories, I'm different. For one thing, I'm not all about hurting people or taking my entertainment from other people's suffering. Furthermore, I'm still a teenager, at least for my kind. For you, I'm ancient. So maybe it was a rebellious mindset, or maybe I just realized what my people were doing was wrong, but either way, I'm making a conscious effort to change myself. I don't want to be the dangerous entity that could easily wipe out the whole universe you live in, I just want to be Xerean, the little bit crazy, chaotic friend. I can't exactly do that if I followed the status quo, can I?" She points out. "Hey! Did I miss something?" The two turn to greet Grian, who lands and walks over, then sits down with them. "We were just passing the time." She answers, to which Doc offers a slight nod for confirmation. "Great! Glad to see you finally warming up to her, Doc." The Watcher flicks his wings, now drawing attention to the Rift. "You nervous?" Xerean asks, though she doubts it. "Sort of? Yes and no. From what I understand, Grumbot Prime wants me to take whoever comes today and go through, but what's on the other side, I don't know." He admits. So it's a fear of the unknown. "I may be stuck with you for the time being, but I understand that. Facing a new world is daunting, especially when you have no idea what's on the other side. But I'm sure that you lot will fare fine." She assures him, Doc's narrowed eyes not lost on her. She just chooses to ignore them. The three fill the room with meaningless conversations, waiting for whoever else is coming to arrive. After Grian's sure they're all arrived, he stands on the lodestone with the button to get the Hermit's attention. "Thank you all for coming. Uh. So, as some of you may know, the Rift has been acting weird recently, and then when I asked Grumbot, he told me to hand these out." Grian holds up the compass, which he'd gotten from Xerean. "I think he wants us to go in, and see what's on the other side." Various murmurs arise, but from what the young Chaos Witch understands, the general consensus is that everyone is willing to head in. "So, um, if we're ready, let's go." With that, the Avian steps off the stone and faces the portal. Xerean walks forward to stand beside him, followed by several other hermits like Scar, Cleo, and Cub. 

Grian takes a deep breath, and steps into the purple whorls, and so does Xerean.