There Is Water Here That Can Quench Your Thirsty Bones And Make You Well (make You Well)

There is water here that can quench your thirsty bones and make you well (make you well)

Sarandiel is not present for the first half of the meeting.

He is sitting outside.

It's being held in Xisuma's base, because apparently there isn't actually a meeting house built on the server. Sarandiel privately thinks that's a bit of an oversight, considering what Impulse has told him about what IS on the server, but he's keeping his mouth shut.

He's making his peace.

They're going to kill him, he's sure.

Why wouldn't they? This server is in the neutral zone but that won't stop Command from coming, if she ever finds a way to reach him again. He's a liability. He doesn't have the skills this place seems to require at all. The city beyond Impulse's has sprouted two new buildings over the week, and their brief foray to the actual spawn area had shown an entirely new structure- a playing field, maybe?

Sarandiel can't build anything.

He can DESTROY it, sure enough, but these people don't need an angel bringing down beacon rain to take apart their builds.

Nor, to be frank, can they afford to let him go.

What if Command catches him traveling the void? What if she finds out they sheltered him? No.

It makes the most tactical sense to just be rid of him, quickly and quietly.

Sarandiel supposes that thought should make him afraid, or furious. After all hadn't he disobeyed? Hadn't he run to live, left everyone else behind to bleed out on their beacons? What is any of that worth if he just rolls over and dies here?

It's a choice, he thinks. A choice to stay here, a choice to not simply fly off while they debate. That would make it the- what, second? Third choice he's ever made?

No, he might actually be up above ten now. Ten choices, made all by himself. Not bad.

There's a small chance they'll let him stay, maybe. A tiny one. Does he trust that? Can he?

He shakes his head. It doesn't matter. He's spent his whole life fighting. He doesn't want to fight anymore.

He just hopes whoever they choose, it won't be Impulse. Impulse makes the most sense, Sarandiel has spent the most time with him so he'd let the demon get in close, probably, but- but it would be cruel.

Whatever the Hermits are, they aren't cruel.

Still it's been really nice, these last few days. Impulse has been kind, kinder than Sarandiel can sense he really wanted to be and he appreciates that. He appreciates BDubs' neat haircut, and even Grian, strange little Grian, swooping down to say hello.

He appreciates the quiet he's had. The not so lonely nights on Impulse's beacon, falling asleep to the songs of angels who aren't begging him for help or issuing orders because they're dead. They don't need help anymore, and no one can give them orders where they are.

So if he's going to die at least it's here, on this strange server. Maybe they'll keep his remains, keep his skull and find two others. Becoming the monster, that might be hard. Will he be aware? Will he know he has become a monster?

Might be worth it, he thinks as he gazes idly at a pot full of blooms he doesn't recognize, gainfully ignoring the raised voices beyond the door. Someone is shouting about a lost- bean? No, Queen. The word is Queen.

Funny. Sarandiel almost recognizes the voice.

The meeting room goes quiet. A consensus has been reached. Impressive- far faster than the Second Circles arguing endlessly about theory.

The door opens and Impulse gestures for Sarandiel to come inside.

Sarandiel puts his wings away- better to fit, easier for someone to get in a quick strike to his back- and obeys the beckoning hand.

Inside the room there is a large table and many chairs. The people sitting at them- well. It's quite the variety. Sarandiel hasn't seen so many different hybrids and mob-folk since the last time he was at a multi-world hub.

He spots Grian and another avian, a woman with blonde hair and eyes like glacial ice. There's a slime-mob at the end of the table, but instead of the standard green they're a soft, cloudy blue. Bdubs waves, because of course he does. There's the strange spliced goat-man from the first day, and two wolf hybrids- a man and a woman, different species, Sarandiel's pretty sure, but each just as attentive to his movements.

Then there's the man in the suit and his companion.

Sarandiel thinks, with some bitter relief, Oh. Oh that's who's going to kill me.

He hasn't seen a redstone demon in that good a shape in centuries.

There's a sheep mob in a pink suit and a blaze demon, his tiny rods chiming around his head. There's a girl with fins instead of ears, long red hair tied back with a blue bandana. There's a vex hybrid in a lab coat spattered in dye, a- a zombie beside what certainly looks like a full size puppet but Absolutely Is Not.

There's a series of human-ENOUGH-men, or at least they play the part well. The blonde one with the black bandana can't quite hide the extra eye on the forehead, though, not from Sarandiel. Takes one to know one, as it were.

And then there's-

Sarandiel stares.

Well.

He's found where the Gloamingking and the Lost Knight went.

Okay. So maybe it won't be the redstone demon.

"Sarandiel, sit down," Xisuma says and sure, why not. Sarandiel slowly sits beside Impulse, doing his best to look directly at the table and not at any of the people around it.

"So we've had a vote," Xisuma says, "and we've all agreed that it's probably best if you stay here on Hermitcraft, if you're amiable."

Sarandiel blinks.

He blinks again.

It's probably best if you stay here on Hermitcraft.

He looks at Xisuma, blinks a couple more times.

"Did we render him speechless?" The zombie asks.

"Believe it or not that's hard to do," Impulse says. "Sarandiel? Hey. You in there?"

"Give him a moment," the puppet-that-isn't says. "He looks a little shellshocked."

"More than a little," the girl with fin-ears says. "I think he's turned whiter than Mumbo's shirts."

When a hand touches Sarandiel's shoulder he jumps almost half a foot and Impulse (because of course it's Impulse it was always going to be Impulse) says, eyes creased with concern, "Hey. You okay?"

Sarandiel inhales, exhales, says, "So you're not gonna kill me?"

"Wha- no!" Xisuma says. "No that was never on the table!"

"Oh. Okay. I, uh. hm. I was pretty sure that- I mean it makes the most SENSE to-"

"Sarandiel." the goatman- Doc? yeah, Doc- eyes him steadily. "We are not a military organization. We are not a terrorist organization."

"Depending on the day," murmurs one of the Too-Normal men, the one with a straw hat hanging from a braided cord around his neck. Grian snorts.

"as Xisuma said," Doc continues with a look at the man, "ending your life was never an option. Asking you to leave was. We decided to ask you to remain, instead."

"We made you wait for the question, we can wait for the answer, if needed," Xisuma says.

Sarandiel shakes his head. "You don't need to. I don't have anywhere else to go. But- I don't- know what to do?"

He laughs and the laugh turns into a soft sob.

"I'm good at one thing," he whispers, "and I don't want to do that anymore. Not here, not on another server, nowhere. I don't have a purpose. Why let me stay?"

"Holy hell," says a man in full armor, "are you SURE we can't just sic Grian on these people?"

"He wouldn't last fifteen minutes," Doc snaps.

"I mean I'd help," the Lost Knight offers.

"Sarandiel," Impulse says, "you don't need a purpose to be alive, man. You just do it."

Sarandiel can't help but laugh at that. "Dippledop I don't know HOW!"

"Dippledop?" The blaze demon murmurs. The sheep beside him shrugs.

"Oh well that's easy." Grian says brightly. "We show you. We can start right now."

"How about we DON'T let Grian be in charge of deprogramming the living weapon?" suggests the fin-eared girl.

"Well who would you suggest? Scar?"

"I think I'd do a great job!" the Lost Knight says.

"Considering what was discussed previously, pass." Xisuma says. "For now. Sarandiel, Impulse has agreed to let you stay at his base- you seem comfortable there. Explore. Look around. Meet with us, let us meet you. That's where you start."

"Or don't," the Gloamingking says. "It's all the same."

"Joel!" says the other wolf.

"No," Sarandiel says meekly, "no, he's. Got a point."

A big one. A big, server destroying one.

How had the Gloamingking voted to let him stay?

The Gloamingking- Joel- nods firmly. "Good enough."

"Okay but I still think we need enrichment outings," the Lost Knight says.

"Scar he's not a baby you aren't teaching him how to walk!"

"But Gem, a man must learn to walk before he can run!"

"I already walk fine, thanks," Sarandiel says. Bdubs snorts and Xisuma sighs. "Alright. Meeting's done, good lord, all of you get out of here. Welcome to Hermitcraft, Sarandiel."

Somewhere in the multiverse, an axis inexorably tips to balance just a tiny bit more.

-

A/N: title is a line from the Gray Havens song Ghost Of A King!