Pixiemage

There’s a woman sitting at the table near the kitchen half of the room, a woman wearing moss-green overall shorts and a purple shirt with puffy-looking sleeves. There are a few flowers that look like they’re growing out of her dark hair, her colors and the greenery reminding Tango (rather painfully) of Bdubs. (He tries not to think about it.)

He blinks. She turns and blinks back. Then her eyes go wide.

“Oh!” she says brightly, jumping out of her chair and nearly tripping over her own feet in the process. She gives off a bubbly vibe, eager and excited. “Hi! The Sheriff said you were awake, but I didn’t think you’d be up! Or - down. Here. Down here. Not that you can’t be down here, I’m just surprised, and - wow, your eyes are red–”

“Shelby,” Jimmy huffs, sounding fondly exasperated and just a little bit out of breath. He adjusts his hold on Tango, who grips Jimmy’s shoulder a little tighter to compensate. “Mind pullin’ out a chair? He’s got a bad leg.”

“A bad leg?” the woman - Shelby - repeats, taking a long moment to process the words. Then– “Oh - OH! Right, right! Chair. On it!”

Shelby spins on the spot and tugs her own chair away from the table, turning it a bit so Jimmy can more easily help Tango settle onto it. It, like the rest of the furniture, is wooden and looks handmade, the tied-on cushion that pads the seat feeling just a little uneven and adding to the homespun feel of the entire house.

It’s…cozy. Pleasant. Homely and warm. Tango can’t deny that it’s comforting, after everything he’s been through as of late.

Shelby drops into another chair at the table with as much energy as everything else she’s done, trying and failing to hide the fact that she’s staring curiously at Tango. He sinks back in his seat and his ears flick back, nervous firelight rippling through his hair. Her eyes follow it, wide and intrigued, before Jimmy clears his throat and Shelby jolts.

“Sorry,” she says, yanking a cup of unfinished tea across the table that Tango hadn’t noticed yet, and pointedly focussing on it instead. Tango chuckles lightly.

She reminds him of someone, somehow, though he can’t be sure who.

(Gem, his mind supplies…though even as he thinks it, the name slips away before it can stick, memories blurring at the edges until he can’t remember why he felt melancholy in the first place.)

Jimmy had called her Shelby, right?

“You’re uh–” Tango shifts in his seat, his eyes darting to where Jimmy is now puttering around the kitchen. His ear feathers keep flicking in their direction. “You’re Shelby. You helped Jimmy save me last night?”

Shelby’s eyes are back on him again, still bright and curious, but he’s grateful that she seems to be trying to act less nosey.

“Mhm!” she hums, nodding. “Well, he did most of the saving. I just showed up afterwards with potions. I didn’t even see the crash…it’s kinda hard to see much of anything from inside the Evermoore.”

The what? Tango must look confused, because Shelby carries on:

“It’s my Empire! In the swamp. Lots of trees, lots of fog - and magic! Lots of magic!”

“And frogs,” Jimmy supplies from where he’s fussing with the furnace. “So many frogs.”

“That too!” Shelby says brightly. She twirls a finger in a circle above her cup and the tea inside begins to stir itself, drawing Tango’s attention. Magic. He’s not entirely unfamiliar with magic thanks to…thanks to Scar. (His chest aches at the thought. He tries to pretend it doesn’t.) But even if he’s seen it before, natural magic abilities are still rare. It’s enchanting to watch.

“Where are you from?”

Tango drags his focus back to Shelby.

“Uhhh–” He stumbles over her question in his mind. “I’m, uh…” He almost blurts out ‘from Hermitcraft’ by force of habit…but that’s not entirely true anymore, is it? He’s fairly certain there’s not a Hermitcraft to go home to anymore. True, ‘Hermitcraft’ is a name that was carried from place to place, and it had been for years, having less to do with location and more to do with the people who lived there…but…but Tango doesn’t even know where the Hermitheus is, where the other Hermits are. And there was a chance there wouldn’t be another Hermitcraft if they hadn’t managed to–

If Tango’s warning message hadn’t made it through to–

If the moon had–

“...Tango?”

Tango jolts, a netherborn wheeze whistling at the back of his throat. There are eyes on him. Shelby looks concerned, almost apologetic, and Jimmy’s no longer in the kitchen. He’s standing at Shelby’s shoulder with a worried look on his face that Tango awkwardly avoids.

He barely knows these people. He doesn’t need to trouble them with his issues.

“Are you alright?” Jimmy asks, warm and concerned, and it’s so, so tempting to lean on his host for support like he’d already been doing this morning. It’s so, so tempting to let someone else help him shoulder the burden he suddenly woke up with less than an hour ago.

But he doesn’t know them. Smoke whisps past his lips and he swallows past the lump in his throat. It’s too much, too fast, and he needs…he needs time.

Jimmy steps around Shelby, standing between her and Tango, his wings spreading slightly to subtly block him from her view. It’s almost like he can tell Tango is getting a bit overwhelmed. He looks a bit uncertain, almost awkward, but he seems like he wants to help.

“Tango…?”

[A/N: Ohhh, three options this time! :D This'll be fun, folks! And rest assured, all answers lead to Tango eating some food, so even though it hasn't happened yet in THIS entry he will still be fed! I saw you all worrying in the tags and comments last entry. I wonder I wonder, how will this go...?

ALSO! Question! Would you like shorter poll deadlines? I've noticed that, since starting this series, a 3 Day poll option has been added...so I COULD make it shorter in future entries if you so wish. What do y'all think?]

[Tag List] @firefly124 @mellioops @beaversuenightly @aris-has-a-paracosm @sincerely-nines @changeling-ash @therain-lover @nilethecat @technicality-the-nonexistant @bbt-yjtt @sparklesif @aeonicho @thedruidqueen89 @reflingthefox

“Hope you don’t have a thing against avians,” the guy says brightly, a tad sheepishly, as he approaches the bed and carefully sets the pitcher of water he’d been carrying on the cluttered sidetable. He holds an already-filled glass out to Tango, who takes it with shaking hands. Tango brings it to his lips without hesitation, the blessed feeling of cool water down his throat a voiddamn relief after the sandpaper sensation he’d been dealing with until now.

It’s only afterward that he thinks he probably should have checked to see if it was poisoned or something…but frankly, if the guy had wanted him dead, he would’ve done it long before now.

“Nah, nothin’ against avians,” Tango denies with a quirked smile, his speech not nearly as taxing as it had been before. “I’ve got a couple o’ bird-brained friends back on–” His breath catches and his smile wavers, and against his better judgment he clears his hoarse throat.

Back on a planet that no longer exists. Tango swallows thickly and brings the glass to his lips again, avoiding the stanger’s curious eyes.

“Back home?” the guy guesses, his voice sounding warm and intrigued alongside the dull dispondance churning in Tango’s chest. Tango’s heart squeezes, and he hums noncommittally. He doesn’t need to talk about it with a complete stranger, no matter how kind. Not right now.

Tango takes another slow sip and avoids the guy’s gaze, feeling the bubble of awkwardness build in the silence. Until his host decides to pop it.

“Er - I’m Jimmy, by the way,” he says, just as brightly as everything else he’s said so far. “Sheriff of Tumble Town.”

He holds out a hand to shake, and Tango squints at him, one of his ears flicking. Sheriff, huh? The guy certainly looks the part, with his cowboy boots and large-buckled belt and the trademark brown leather vest. The gold star-shaped badge on his chest glints slightly in the morning light. Tango hesitates before offering his own hand to shake in return. The Sheriff’s hand is slightly calloused, like he’s a man used to manual labor, but not so dry that he spends most of his time that way. Interesting.

“Uh - Tango,” he mutters. “Of the Tek variety.” Something alights behind the guy’s - Jimmy’s - eyes, something like recognition or intrigue, but it’s stifled almost as quickly as it comes. Tango does his best to turn the analytical part of his brain elsewhere. There’s no reason to be so suspicious of his host…yet. He withdraws his hand and fiddles with the water glass he’s still holding. “...Tumble Town?” he asks instead.

Jimmy’s expression brightens tenfold and he smacks his own forehead lightly.

“Right! O’ course! You’re not from around here, you wouldn’t know–” He chuckles sheepishly and his wings puff up slightly, rustling at his back. The feathers around his ears (have those always been there?) flare, and he grins. “You’re in Tumble Town right now. ‘S my Empire! Town. My town.” He rocks back on his heels and steps back from the bed a bit, casting a glance out the nearby window. Tango’s eyes flick in the same direction, curious. “We’re in the mesa right now,” Jimmy carries on. “S’ppose that’s a good place for a netherborn, eh?”

Tango knows he really doesn’t feel up to standing right now. Despite his earlier temptation to just flee the scene and find his ship, he probably wouldn’t have made it far in his current state, not without help. But he’s curious. Sue him. He sets the half-empty glass of water on the table beside the bed and he eases himself to his feet, wincing at the way his left ankle protests having weight put on it. The Sheriff looks concerned. Tango, to his credit, does fairly well for the first few steps.

It’s the fifth one that does him in.

His ankle buckles just enough to send him off kilter, and it’s only thanks to the Sheriff that he doesn’t go down completely. Jimmy’s quick, catching him by the elbows with a startled chirp and letting Tango cling to his arms in a desperate attempt to keep himself upright.

“Oh my gosh–” Jimmy’s wings have flared out for balance and he tugs Tango toward him, looping one of Tango’s arms over his shoulders to better support his weight. “Geez buddy, you alright?”

“Ngh–” Tango lets out a pained, wheezing little sound of frustration in response, his hand shaking slightly where he’s clutching the Sheriff’s shoulder. His ankle is throbbing now where it hadn’t been before, agitated from his stupid attempt at mobility before he was ready. Idiot.

“Mate…?”

“Fine,” Tango grumbles, his ears pressed back against his hair. He holds his left foot gingerly just above the ground, splitting his balance between his host and his uninjured leg. Void. Okay. Don’t do that again. Noted. His tail darts out behind him to help keep him stable.

“I wanna see outside,” he says, his voice slightly raspy, and Jimmy makes a quiet sound that Tango can’t identify.

“You sure you don’t wanna sit down–?”

“In a minute,” Tango huffs. He doesn’t know where he is, hasn’t seen anything beyond this room since his ship crashed. He needs to know. Needs to get his bearings in a foreign world. A smokey wheeze whisps from the back of his throat. “Please. Just - wanna see.”

The Sheriff seems to think about his request for a moment, but eventually he seems to acquiesce, sighing softly as he folds his golden wings neatly against his back. He takes it slow, helping Tango to the window and keeping him upright all the while.

Jimmy wasn’t lying. The sight outside the window is as sandy as Tango expected it to be, the world seeped in a dusty red-brown that screams mesa more than anything else could. They’re enclosed in a bowl of red rocky cliffs, wooden structures built into the walls of the canyon and scattered across the flat ground at the bottom of the basin, buildings pulled straight out of an old western movie. There’s a barn in the distance, and pens for animals, and fenced-in crop gardens - and a tunnel, a tunnel cut right through the cliff wall with a train track leading off to who-know-where. Out of town, Tango supposes, though he doesn’t know for sure.

Tango lets out a breath, taking it all in. Suddenly Jimmy being a Sheriff feels extremely fitting for the place he’s found himself in.

“Glad I crashed here,” he finds himself saying, the smallest hint of amusement and gratitude lacing his words. “I don’t wanna know what woulda happened if I’d gone down in an icy tundra or something. Me an’ cold don’t exactly get along.”

Something about that sentence tickles his brain the wrong way, like he has been on friendly terms with the cold before. A mental image dances across his mind of freezing caves and an icy castle, blue soul flames dancing out of the corner of his eye - but it’s gone between one blink and the next.

“I can’t imagine why,” Jimmy says lightly, jokingly. It’s an awkward thing, like he’s trying to test the waters. His wings shuffle and fidget at his back, tickling Tango’s arm. He coughs. “Er - right! Well. Let’s get you off your feet, eh? I think I’ve still got a healing potion ‘round here if you want one. We only did topical stuff last night. Didn’t exactly wanna go force-feeding you potions when you weren’t even awake, did we?”

Tango blinks, turning his attention to his host.

“We?”

“Me an’ Shelby!” Jimmy says, brighter this time. He’s already easing Tango back toward the bed as he talks. “She’s our local witch. She’s great with potions, as long as she’s not in a creative mood. Gettin’ better at it though! I called ‘er over last night when you fell out of the sky. I didn’t have anything left to help you, mind, so I’m just glad she was still awake.”

Tango settles back on the edge of the bed with a relieved sigh as Jimmy starts clinking through the bottles cluttering the bedside table, eyeing their colors in the light from the window. He hands a rich red one over to him with a smile, looking a little victorious at his discovery.

(Tango’s not dumb enough to blindly drink whatever some random stranger has given him in an unlabelled bottle, but it sure smells like spiced melons when he pulls out the stopper. It’s familiar enough for him to sip at it cautiously, and when the familiar taste of a healing potion touches his tongue, the relief he gets from it is palpable. His ankle is already starting to hurt a little bit less when he finally caves and starts to down the potion properly.)

“I’ll fix up some food for you, if ya like,” Jimmy is saying now, and Tango is so fuzzed by the warm comfort of the potion’s healing properties that he only now notices that his host is already at the door to leave. “D’you like eggs an’ bacon? It shouldn’t take long to make, if that sounds alright.”

Tango’s nodding before he can really stop himself - but then he pauses.

He’s going to be left alone in this room again. It isn’t that big of a deal - he knows he needs the rest - but he’s feeling antsy. He’s feeling claustrophobic, the window doing little to help with that. He wants to get out, even if it’s just for a little while.

A part of him is itching to get back to his ship. The food Jimmy is offering is so tempting - he hasn’t eaten real food since his ship left Hermitcraft for its lunar mission - but he’s starting to get impatient. He doesn’t know if his friends - his family - are even–

He needs to know. Needs to find a way to contact them. His ship might be in ruins, but it might not…and the Schrödinger status of his spacecraft is making his brain itch. Alone he wouldn’t have been able to make the trip, but with Jimmy’s help he could.

Food does sound good though, and if Tango wanted to leave the room and eat downstairs instead of in bed, surely Jimmy wouldn’t mind…

Tango sets the empty potion bottle aside just as Jimmy opens the door to leave. He clears his throat, his hair sparking, and he opens his mouth to speak.

[A/N: I've officially moved into my new place and gotten through the holidays! My writer brain is FINALLY working again, which I'm very excited for! Sorry for the long wait, but welcome back to the adventure! Tango's going through it a bit, isn't he? Poor guy. Don't worry, Jimmy's here for him, even if he's a "stranger" right now.]

[Tag List] @firefly124 @mellioops @beaversuenightly @aris-has-a-paracosm @sincerely-nines @changeling-ash @therain-lover @nilethecat @technicality-the-nonexistant @bbt-yjtt @sparklesif @aeonicho @thedruidqueen89

“Hope you don’t have a thing against avians,” the guy says brightly, a tad sheepishly, as he approaches the bed and carefully sets the pitcher of water he’d been carrying on the cluttered sidetable. He holds an already-filled glass out to Tango, who takes it with shaking hands. Tango brings it to his lips without hesitation, the blessed feeling of cool water down his throat a voiddamn relief after the sandpaper sensation he’d been dealing with until now.

It’s only afterward that he thinks he probably should have checked to see if it was poisoned or something…but frankly, if the guy had wanted him dead, he would’ve done it long before now.

“Nah, nothin’ against avians,” Tango denies with a quirked smile, his speech not nearly as taxing as it had been before. “I’ve got a couple o’ bird-brained friends back on–” His breath catches and his smile wavers, and against his better judgment he clears his hoarse throat.

Back on a planet that no longer exists. Tango swallows thickly and brings the glass to his lips again, avoiding the stanger’s curious eyes.

“Back home?” the guy guesses, his voice sounding warm and intrigued alongside the dull dispondance churning in Tango’s chest. Tango’s heart squeezes, and he hums noncommittally. He doesn’t need to talk about it with a complete stranger, no matter how kind. Not right now.

Tango takes another slow sip and avoids the guy’s gaze, feeling the bubble of awkwardness build in the silence. Until his host decides to pop it.

“Er - I’m Jimmy, by the way,” he says, just as brightly as everything else he’s said so far. “Sheriff of Tumble Town.”

He holds out a hand to shake, and Tango squints at him, one of his ears flicking. Sheriff, huh? The guy certainly looks the part, with his cowboy boots and large-buckled belt and the trademark brown leather vest. The gold star-shaped badge on his chest glints slightly in the morning light. Tango hesitates before offering his own hand to shake in return. The Sheriff’s hand is slightly calloused, like he’s a man used to manual labor, but not so dry that he spends most of his time that way. Interesting.

“Uh - Tango,” he mutters. “Of the Tek variety.” Something alights behind the guy’s - Jimmy’s - eyes, something like recognition or intrigue, but it’s stifled almost as quickly as it comes. Tango does his best to turn the analytical part of his brain elsewhere. There’s no reason to be so suspicious of his host…yet. He withdraws his hand and fiddles with the water glass he’s still holding. “...Tumble Town?” he asks instead.

Jimmy’s expression brightens tenfold and he smacks his own forehead lightly.

“Right! O’ course! You’re not from around here, you wouldn’t know–” He chuckles sheepishly and his wings puff up slightly, rustling at his back. The feathers around his ears (have those always been there?) flare, and he grins. “You’re in Tumble Town right now. ‘S my Empire! Town. My town.” He rocks back on his heels and steps back from the bed a bit, casting a glance out the nearby window. Tango’s eyes flick in the same direction, curious. “We’re in the mesa right now,” Jimmy carries on. “S’ppose that’s a good place for a netherborn, eh?”

Tango knows he really doesn’t feel up to standing right now. Despite his earlier temptation to just flee the scene and find his ship, he probably wouldn’t have made it far in his current state, not without help. But he’s curious. Sue him. He sets the half-empty glass of water on the table beside the bed and he eases himself to his feet, wincing at the way his left ankle protests having weight put on it. The Sheriff looks concerned. Tango, to his credit, does fairly well for the first few steps.

It’s the fifth one that does him in.

His ankle buckles just enough to send him off kilter, and it’s only thanks to the Sheriff that he doesn’t go down completely. Jimmy’s quick, catching him by the elbows with a startled chirp and letting Tango cling to his arms in a desperate attempt to keep himself upright.

“Oh my gosh–” Jimmy’s wings have flared out for balance and he tugs Tango toward him, looping one of Tango’s arms over his shoulders to better support his weight. “Geez buddy, you alright?”

“Ngh–” Tango lets out a pained, wheezing little sound of frustration in response, his hand shaking slightly where he’s clutching the Sheriff’s shoulder. His ankle is throbbing now where it hadn’t been before, agitated from his stupid attempt at mobility before he was ready. Idiot.

“Mate…?”

“Fine,” Tango grumbles, his ears pressed back against his hair. He holds his left foot gingerly just above the ground, splitting his balance between his host and his uninjured leg. Void. Okay. Don’t do that again. Noted. His tail darts out behind him to help keep him stable.

“I wanna see outside,” he says, his voice slightly raspy, and Jimmy makes a quiet sound that Tango can’t identify.

“You sure you don’t wanna sit down–?”

“In a minute,” Tango huffs. He doesn’t know where he is, hasn’t seen anything beyond this room since his ship crashed. He needs to know. Needs to get his bearings in a foreign world. A smokey wheeze whisps from the back of his throat. “Please. Just - wanna see.”

The Sheriff seems to think about his request for a moment, but eventually he seems to acquiesce, sighing softly as he folds his golden wings neatly against his back. He takes it slow, helping Tango to the window and keeping him upright all the while.

Jimmy wasn’t lying. The sight outside the window is as sandy as Tango expected it to be, the world seeped in a dusty red-brown that screams mesa more than anything else could. They’re enclosed in a bowl of red rocky cliffs, wooden structures built into the walls of the canyon and scattered across the flat ground at the bottom of the basin, buildings pulled straight out of an old western movie. There’s a barn in the distance, and pens for animals, and fenced-in crop gardens - and a tunnel, a tunnel cut right through the cliff wall with a train track leading off to who-know-where. Out of town, Tango supposes, though he doesn’t know for sure.

Tango lets out a breath, taking it all in. Suddenly Jimmy being a Sheriff feels extremely fitting for the place he’s found himself in.

“Glad I crashed here,” he finds himself saying, the smallest hint of amusement and gratitude lacing his words. “I don’t wanna know what woulda happened if I’d gone down in an icy tundra or something. Me an’ cold don’t exactly get along.”

Something about that sentence tickles his brain the wrong way, like he has been on friendly terms with the cold before. A mental image dances across his mind of freezing caves and an icy castle, blue soul flames dancing out of the corner of his eye - but it’s gone between one blink and the next.

“I can’t imagine why,” Jimmy says lightly, jokingly. It’s an awkward thing, like he’s trying to test the waters. His wings shuffle and fidget at his back, tickling Tango’s arm. He coughs. “Er - right! Well. Let’s get you off your feet, eh? I think I’ve still got a healing potion ‘round here if you want one. We only did topical stuff last night. Didn’t exactly wanna go force-feeding you potions when you weren’t even awake, did we?”

Tango blinks, turning his attention to his host.

“We?”

“Me an’ Shelby!” Jimmy says, brighter this time. He’s already easing Tango back toward the bed as he talks. “She’s our local witch. She’s great with potions, as long as she’s not in a creative mood. Gettin’ better at it though! I called ‘er over last night when you fell out of the sky. I didn’t have anything left to help you, mind, so I’m just glad she was still awake.”

Tango settles back on the edge of the bed with a relieved sigh as Jimmy starts clinking through the bottles cluttering the bedside table, eyeing their colors in the light from the window. He hands a rich red one over to him with a smile, looking a little victorious at his discovery.

(Tango’s not dumb enough to blindly drink whatever some random stranger has given him in an unlabelled bottle, but it sure smells like spiced melons when he pulls out the stopper. It’s familiar enough for him to sip at it cautiously, and when the familiar taste of a healing potion touches his tongue, the relief he gets from it is palpable. His ankle is already starting to hurt a little bit less when he finally caves and starts to down the potion properly.)

“I’ll fix up some food for you, if ya like,” Jimmy is saying now, and Tango is so fuzzed by the warm comfort of the potion’s healing properties that he only now notices that his host is already at the door to leave. “D’you like eggs an’ bacon? It shouldn’t take long to make, if that sounds alright.”

Tango’s nodding before he can really stop himself - but then he pauses.

He’s going to be left alone in this room again. It isn’t that big of a deal - he knows he needs the rest - but he’s feeling antsy. He’s feeling claustrophobic, the window doing little to help with that. He wants to get out, even if it’s just for a little while.

A part of him is itching to get back to his ship. The food Jimmy is offering is so tempting - he hasn’t eaten real food since his ship left Hermitcraft for its lunar mission - but he’s starting to get impatient. He doesn’t know if his friends - his family - are even–

He needs to know. Needs to find a way to contact them. His ship might be in ruins, but it might not…and the Schrödinger status of his spacecraft is making his brain itch. Alone he wouldn’t have been able to make the trip, but with Jimmy’s help he could.

Food does sound good though, and if Tango wanted to leave the room and eat downstairs instead of in bed, surely Jimmy wouldn’t mind…

Tango sets the empty potion bottle aside just as Jimmy opens the door to leave. He clears his throat, his hair sparking, and he opens his mouth to speak.

[A/N: I've officially moved into my new place and gotten through the holidays! My writer brain is FINALLY working again, which I'm very excited for! Sorry for the long wait, but welcome back to the adventure! Tango's going through it a bit, isn't he? Poor guy. Don't worry, Jimmy's here for him, even if he's a "stranger" right now.]

[Tag List] @firefly124 @mellioops @beaversuenightly @aris-has-a-paracosm @sincerely-nines @changeling-ash @therain-lover @nilethecat @technicality-the-nonexistant @bbt-yjtt @sparklesif @aeonicho @thedruidqueen89

The way I can't find reliable definitive answer about what happened to her 😭

(Tbf I prolly could've looked harder)

Greser by @radsee