After one long night, up to late and busy on their own projects, pain struck three men at the same time. Headaches in the three of them and elytras all collapsing. Grian landed on the roof of his house, shuddering from pain as he landed, yelping out in pain. Iskall was in their base, falling and crashing against the floor, head smacking to the wall and a villager gave them a look that could only be described as "oh no baby what is you doin'?". Mumbo was in the most dangerous place of the trio, he was in the End, collecting experience and enderpearls, and he almost fell off the platform into the void.
On the heads of the three jungle-living Hermits skin broke and purple horns started form. On their backs, ripping through their fragile elytra, were a pair of large, black and purple wings. Pain was flooding through each of their bodies and they each reached out to grab their communicators and contact someone to help. Mumbo and Iskall contacted each other at about the same time, typing into the main chat and asking for help from one another. They all saw each other asking for help from the others and ended up agreeing to meet at Mumbo's hobbit hole. It wasn't all that long before the trio of people stood in a circle in the upper level. They all looked at one another, spotting instantly the purple features. Grian pointed to both of the others, seeing each had a different kind of horn stabbing through their foreheads and causing a bit of blood from where their skin broke.
"False?" Iskall piped up after a few moments of just staring at the men. "Bdubs?" The man without facial hair volunteered and messaged both mentioned people, former Dragon Bros. After a few moments he shook his head.
"Bdubs is fine," he mumbled, looking at the screen. "I thought the magic would be gone by now!" A beep on his communicator and he threw it angrily to the ground. "Damn it, False is fine too. Why do we have to suffer?!"
Mumbo grabbed his communicator from the ground, making sure the screen was still intact, grimacing at a crack on the corner that first hit the ground. "We'll figure this out, no need to get upset, G."
"Mumbo is right, it is completely fine. We got through this before and we will do it again," Iskall looked at the house's owner and saw a bit of blood on his face, taking their sleeve and wiping blood off of his face. "We do have to get cleaned up, though. You guys look stupid all covered in blood." They first went to the older of the duo, Grian, and licked their thumb like a mother would in the presence of a stupid and dirty child.
"We fixed it by dying," Grian added pessimistically after, wiping his own blood off with the sleeve of his color matched sweater. His round, ram-like, boney horns caught on his sleeve and pulled a thread out of place, one which he would instinctively pull on until the entire sweater was just a red string. Fate, he mused with a joking expression in his mind.
"Then we can just," Mumbo said, grumpily smearing off the saliva from his forehead, and trailing off to imply what the trio could do next. The smallest raised an arm to either volunteer or ask a question. "Yeah?"
His voice was a lot quieter than before. "What if it doesn't work?" He was afraid, it was clear to tell and this time Iskall rested their large hand on his shoulder. "What if we stay like this forever? This isn't connected to magic of demise, this is something else." Grian was now curled up on himself, sitting on the bed like he wanted to shove his head inside his chest. The other two shared a look and then sat next to him. Iskall had their hand instantly against the base of the purple and black wing that had formed and ripped through his favorite sweater, swirling a comforting circle without harming the wings.
"Gri," Mumbo mumbled the words in a comforting tone and rested his hand against his shoulder. "Even if it doesn't work, we will get through this together. You didn't forget how to fly with the dragon wings, did you? We can have a race where you hand us our arses like last season." This made a small chuckle pass through Grian's lips and he straightened his back before eventually standing up.
"Kill me, bros."
And then they did. Grian removed his armor and Iskall fired one skillful jab directly into the soft spot of his body with their shining sword. After a moment of burning, Grian disappeared and all of his things spread across the floor, which the suit-clad man went to go pick up. His horns seemed to scrape against the low ceiling of the hobbit hole, so he knelt down and cleaned them up, climbing to the bottom floor to get the few things that fell through. He bumped his wings on the way down which was uncomfortable, but bumped them harder on the mad clamber up the rungs to see if Grian was back to his normal state when he woke up under the covers of the bed that he had marked to spawn.
When he did, his eyes were closed and he didn't open them. "Did it work?" His voice was a little hoarse from where he had been impaled, thanks Iskall, but it would return to his normal in a matter of minutes. Iskall's hand rested against his arm and when Grian's eyes opened his caught their patronizing smile and knew instantly that it hadn't worked. "So, I lost all those levels for nothing?" He said with a hurt laugh. The others shared the expression.
The trio would get used to it again, just like last Season, but for now it was a bit of an inconvenience. Mumbo had to make the roof of his hobbit hole a bit taller and they all had to get new elytras for when they eventually lost the wings as their old ones were ripped beyond repair. They helped each other out and eventually learned how to deal with the shortcomings.
