im the knight, the soldier who brings the fight

Text: You set my heart on fire~

Text: May I ho-hold you with these cold hands? They're soothing!

Can't believe this is how I chose to spend Christmas Eve XD

Stress lifted a Halloween banner, holding it up as False balanced carefully on the ladder above her. False leaned forward, her feathers soft and faintly ticklish as they brushed Stress’s cheek, causing her to stifle a sneeze, her eyes watering slightly. False chuckled, a quiet, breathy sound, as she carefully used her clawed fingers to pin the fabric into place.

"There," False murmured as she secured the last corner, giving the banner a small, approving pat. "How’s it look from down there?"

Stress stepped back, hands on her hips, her head tilted thoughtfully as she inspected the banner's alignment. “I ‘fink it’s even,” she declared with a grin, glancing back up at False, who was already climbing down the ladder, wings folding gracefully behind her.

False nodded, pleased, and glanced around the room. The decorations were coming along nicely, casting a spooky charm over the space. With a quick wave, she made her way over to where Wels was in the midst of hanging plastic bats and cobwebs, his brow furrowed in concentration. False gave a small hop, spreading her wings as she lifted herself to his level to assist, reaching out to straighten a bat that had twisted the wrong way.

Meanwhile, Stress wandered over to a corner of the room where Iskall sat cross-legged on the floor, engrossed in carving a particularly mischievous face into a white pumpkin. The pumpkin’s grin was wickedly sharp, its eyes narrowed in an impish stare.

“Mind if I join ya?” Stress asked, plopping down beside him.

He glanced up, a faint smirk touching his lips. "Not at all." He pushed a pumpkin her way, along with a carving tool, the blade gleaming in the dim light.

She took the tools, examining the smooth, round pumpkin in her hands. “Got any requests?” she asked with a playful raise of her eyebrows.

Iskall tilted his head thoughtfully, looking at the pumpkin Stress held up. “How about a surprised one?” he suggested, his eyes sparking with amusement. “It’ll look perfect in the middle of some others making scary faces, like it’s completely spooked.” He made a wide-eyed expression, leaning back in exaggerated shock. Stress chuckled at his antics, already picturing the pumpkin’s startled face among the others.

With a grin, she set to work, carefully carving large, rounded eyes and a gaping mouth into the pumpkin, giving it a perfectly panicked expression. Every few cuts, she glanced over at Iskall, who was now carving a sly grin on a new pumpkin with meticulous care. They exchanged stories of past Halloweens, each memory more absurd than the last, their laughter blending with the cheerful bustle around them.

Across the room, Mumbo was busy smoothing out tablecloths over rows of tables set for the gathering, making sure each one was even and neatly draped. He glanced over at Grian, who was fidgeting with a string of ghost lights, absently wrapping and unwrapping them around his fingers. Mumbo couldn’t help but notice that Grian’s usual cheerful, animated personality seemed slightly dulled tonight, his shoulders tense and eyes occasionally darting around the room as if he were on high alert.

Grian had been a part of Hermitcraft for a few seasons now, joining back in Season 6, and by Season 8, Mumbo had seen him grow comfortable with the Hermits. But Halloween always seemed to bring out this subtle tension in Grian that Mumbo couldn’t quite put his finger on. Maybe it was the season's spooky atmosphere, or maybe it was something else entirely.

He remembered the last Halloween party clearly. Ren and Docm had gotten into a playful, pretend brawl, wrestling and laughing as the other Hermits cheered them on. But while everyone else seemed to enjoy the rowdy banter, Mumbo recalled how Grian had stiffened, his face tight with worry, as if anticipating a turn for the worse. The tension in Grian’s shoulders only faded when the brawl ended and everyone went back to their own stuff and laughing.

As much as Mumbo wanted to ask Grian about it, he held back. He knew Grian wasn’t one to open up easily, especially about things that clearly weighed on him. They had a solid friendship, one filled with late-night builds, laughter, and trust. But some barriers took time to break down. Mumbo adjusted a corner of the tablecloth, silently resolving that if Grian ever wanted to talk, he’d be there to listen. For now, though, he wouldn’t push. Instead, he offered Grian a smile, hoping to ease some of the worry clouding his friend’s eyes.

“Need any help with those lights?” Mumbo asked, nudging him gently.

Grian blinked, snapping back from whatever had him distracted. “Oh—uh, yeah, actually.” He grinned, handing one end of the lights over, and the two of them began stringing it along the edge of the table, Grian’s shoulders relaxing a bit more as they worked side-by-side.

As the Hermits put the finishing touches on the decorations, excitement buzzed through the room. They stepped back to admire their work before heading out to change into their costumes. The big room was bathed in dim, flickering light, casting shadows on the walls from the fake cobwebs and skeletal decorations. Plastic bats dangled from the ceiling, while carved pumpkins lined the tables, their grinning faces casting an orange glow.

Docm was the first to arrive back, about an hour before the main gathering. Dressed as a mad scientist, complete with a white lab coat, oversized goggles, and wild, spiky hair, he grinned with satisfaction as he switched on the colored lights, filling the room with an eerie, otherworldly glow.

Xisuma entered soon after, wearing a carefully crafted Enderman suit, the dark fabric stretched over his frame with splatters of fake blood that looked ominously real. His glowing purple eyes scanned the room as he walked around, double-checking each setup to ensure everything was working smoothly.

The front doors creaked open, and Zedaph and Tango entered, each carrying large containers brimming with snacks, sandwiches, and treats for the event. They carefully set the containers on the tables, arranging them so the Halloween-themed tablecloths and decorations framed the food perfectly. Xisuma joined them, lending a hand as they went back and forth to bring in the rest of the party spread. With each trip, the tables became laden with everything from spider-shaped cookies and caramel apples to bowls of punch with floating ice hands.

Once the food was all set up, Zedaph and Tango shared a quick glance and a smile. They still needed to put on their costumes, and with a nod to Xisuma, they hurried back to get dressed. Xisuma remained behind, meticulously arranging the snacks and drinks, adding little finishing touches like fake cobwebs stretched between the punch bowl and a few carefully placed gummy spiders scattered among the snacks.

As the clock inched closer to midnight, the room transformed into a hauntingly festive scene. The fog machines puffed out thick layers of mist, colored lights reflecting off them and casting an ethereal, ghostly glow throughout the room.

Some of the Hermits arrived a little early, excited to see the spooky setup before everyone else filtered in. Wels strode through the doors first, dressed as a dark knight, his armor glinting under the flickering lights. His red-tail hawk wings were draped in fake cobwebs, little plastic spiders catching the light as they dangled from the webbing.

Not long after, Ren entered, also dressed as a mad scientist to match Docm, though his costume had a slight twist—Ren's coat was splattered with glowing green "chemicals," and his goggles had a frenzied, chaotic twist, with one cracked lens. The two mad scientists grinned as they exchanged mock-evil laughs, discussing their "plans for world domination" as they admired each other’s costumes.

Then Stress floated in, wearing a striking witch’s outfit. Instead of the traditional gnarled and haggard look, her witch costume was almost ethereal; a cascade of dark fabric swept behind her like mist, and her crown of wilted flowers glowed faintly in the dim light. She looked enchanting rather than frightening, her soft curls framing her face under the flower crown.

Cleo was next, her costume grabbing everyone’s attention as she walked in, dressed as Medusa. Fake, but incredibly lifelike, green snakes coiled around her head, blending seamlessly with her natural hair color. A crown of twisted thorns added a sinister touch, and on her shoulders sat miniature statues of animals that looked as though they’d been turned to stone—an owl, a lizard, and a small fox. Each had a hauntingly realistic texture, as if Cleo had truly petrified them.

Just behind her, Joe Hills entered with a playful grin, dressed as a journalist who had fallen victim to Cleo’s petrifying gaze. Half of his face and one of his arms were covered in gray, stone-like makeup, giving him the appearance of being halfway turned to stone. He carried a notepad with mock-interview questions scribbled on it, the pencil still held awkwardly in his stone-covered hand.

They gathered near the tables, admiring one another’s costumes and the setup.

More Hermits trickled in as midnight crept closer, adding to the eerie ambiance that filled the fog-drenched room. Scar rushed in, a bit later than he’d planned, but his arrival turned heads immediately. He was dressed as a werewolf, though his costume leaned more toward a mischievous, cat-like version, with sleek black fur patches. His face was painted with whiskers and fierce yellow eye contacts, and he had a glint of mischief in his grin. Balancing a large cake in his arms, he maneuvered carefully, trying not to smudge the vibrant orange and purple frosting that glowed under the black lights, making the cake look as if it were lit from within.

Impulse walked in right behind Scar, his costume just as eye-catching. Thick metal chains wrapped around his dragon-like wings, and ropes crisscrossed his shoulders and chest, making him appear as though he were a powerful dragon that had just broken free from captivity. His face was shadowed with charcoal to give a smudged, smoky look. In one hand, he carried a giant pumpkin pie, the golden crust perfectly flaked, and he placed it carefully beside Scar’s cake on the table.

Zedaph entered shortly afterward, his costume taking a dark twist on his natural sheep features. He was dressed as a goat demon, with red, curled horn attachments blending seamlessly with his shorter, natural horns. His face was painted with shadows around his eyes, giving them a haunting intensity, and he wore a tattered, hooded cloak that trailed behind him as he moved. Zedaph’s costume made him look both intimidating and mischievous, his every step purposeful as he strode across the room, stopping to admire the setup with an approving nod.

Tango followed close behind, his costume just as dramatic. He wore ragged white and black fabric that draped around him in layers, giving him an ethereal, ghostly appearance. The edges of the cloth had been charred to black, giving him the look of a spirit wreathed in flames, and faint embers seemed to glow around his hands and face, flickering like ghostly fire in the dim lighting. He drifted into the room with a slow, haunting gait, playing up the ghostly effect as he passed by his friends, who laughed and shivered at the spookiness.

They joined the rest of the Hermits gathered near the tables, where the food and drinks were arranged with meticulous care. Scar placed his cake proudly on display, glancing around to see if anyone noticed the cake’s faint shimmer in the dark, while Impulse set the pumpkin pie nearby, its warm cinnamon scent filling the air. Zedaph admired his work from a distance, pleased to see how the setup added to the chilling scene of the room.

As with most Hermit gatherings, there was some alcohol, though it was kept light—just enough for those who wanted a sip to enjoy the flavors, but never anything too strong. Most of the Hermits preferred to keep a clear head, savoring the laughter and camaraderie that came more easily when sober.

Partys are better sober then drunk.

Mumbo arrived next, dressed in an impressively classic vampire costume, complete with a dark cloak lined in red satin and a pair of plastic fangs. He wore dark makeup under his eyes to give himself a slightly undead look, which contrasted humorously with his usual, cheerful demeanor. Close behind him was Grian, who seemed just a bit more tense than usual, keeping near Mumbo like a shadow. His costume was simpler—just a headband with small, curved devil horns—but it suited him in its subtlety, the red adding a playful touch to his nervous energy.

Pearl and Gem entered shortly afterward, their costumes drawing appreciative glances. Gem’s costume was intricate and striking; she was dressed as a siren, her skin painted with shimmering blue scales that faded into a fiery red toward her hands and face. She had rings and piercings decorating her ears and nose, adding a wild, mystical edge. To top it off, long, glowing angler-like lights extended from a headpiece that arched over her head, cleverly camouflaging her natural deer horns while casting an eerie, oceanic glow around her.

Pearl’s costume, though simpler, was equally enchanting. Her eyes had a mesmerizing look, thanks to contacts that made her irises look like swirling galaxies, and she wore a cape patterned to resemble deep space, with stars and nebulae scattered across it in glistening colors. The effect was otherworldly, as though she herself had stepped out from the cosmos.

The two of them exchanged laughs as they caught sight of each other’s costumes, and they moved toward the group gathering near the snack table. Scar waved them over enthusiastically, gesturing to the glowing cake he’d brought, and Impulse held up the pumpkin pie with pride, a smirk on his face. The room was now buzzing with life as everyone admired the costumes and decorations, casting glances at each other’s outfits with wide grins.

Xisuma drifted around the room, ensuring the food and drinks were well-stocked and rearranging any decorations that had shifted slightly. He wore a proud smile as he watched the Hermits gather, the fog machines now filling the room with a rolling mist that wrapped around their ankles and made the colored lights look even more haunting.

Iskall, transformed into a ghoulish slime monster with bright green goo dripping down his costume and textured, glistening scales along his arms, strolled over to the snack table. He grabbed a small sandwich shaped like a pumpkin, the orange-tinted bread and carved smile bringing a grin to his face. He took a bite, letting out an exaggerated "Mmm!" as he enjoyed the fun twist on his snack.

Nearby, Impulse made his way to where Tango and Zedaph were seated, balancing a small plate with a few slices of cake. He handed each of them a piece, smiling as Tango’s eyes lit up at the glowing frosting and Zedaph eagerly took a large bite, smearing a bit of icing on his nose in the process. They all laughed, the sound blending into the lively murmur filling the room.

Cub sat just a few feet away, dressed in an elaborate Egyptian costume that called back to the ancient-themed builds from his earlier season. His tunic, adorned with gold trim and rich, intricate designs, seemed to glint in the light. He sipped his drink with a relaxed smile, enjoying the nods to nostalgia the party brought with it. Beside him, Scar, still adjusting his were-cat costume’s furry ears, clinked glasses with Cub. “Cheers to spooks and laughs, my friend!” Scar toasted, his voice warm and full of the energy he always brought to gatherings.

Across the room, Gem and Pearl were caught up in their own world. They spun and twirled to the beat of a fun, upbeat song playing softly in the background. Gem’s siren tail, while stunning, was proving a challenge to maneuver, and she stumbled with a laugh as Pearl nearly tripped over her space cape. Every slip-up only made them laugh harder, clutching each other’s arms as they regained their balance and broke into another round of clumsy dance moves, their laughter echoing across the room.

Meanwhile, Joe was putting on an entertaining show as he wandered over to where Ren and Docm stood, still deep in their roles as mad scientists. Joe raised an eyebrow in mock seriousness, holding out a small notepad and pretending to jot down notes as he asked them “important questions” about their “experiments.” Ren, never one to miss a chance for drama, put on an exaggerated accent and launched into a wild explanation about “secret formulas and forbidden elixirs,” complete with hand gestures and wild-eyed expressions. Docm played along with a sly grin, nodding with a conspiratorial air. Ren’s mad scientist persona complete with a few “muhahaha!” laughs thrown in for good measure.

Xisuma drifted through the room, enjoying the sight of everyone so immersed in the festivities. The fog machines were working overtime now, giving the room a thick, misty ambiance that seemed to transform every Hermit into a figure of mystery. He made his way over to check on the snacks, making sure everything was in place. The pumpkins carved with different faces—surprised, spooky, and silly—added to the atmosphere, casting dancing shadows across the floor.

A few of the Hermits, getting caught up in the spirit of Halloween, began telling ghost stories in a corner, the flickering lights casting ominous shadows as they leaned in close, speaking in hushed voices and letting out sudden gasps to startle one another.

Mumbo had stopped by False, who was dressed in a strange yet oddly put-together costume—a professional-looking uniform splattered with fake blood, paired with a sharp, prop knife in her hand and black and white rabbit ears perched atop her head. She had proudly claimed the ensemble was meant to represent an "insane cereal killer,” with a wink and a grin that suited her playful spirit. Mumbo chuckled at her interpretation, the two of them sharing a laugh over the imaginative costumes everyone had managed to pull together. But as he finished their conversation, he glanced around to locate Grian, who had stayed close to him most of the night.

To Mumbo’s surprise, Grian had wandered to the other side of the room. He was clutching a cup of something and seemed preoccupied with a fruit salad he’d picked up, nibbling absentmindedly while staring into the middle distance. He looked a little lost, his usual spark dulled as he kept his eyes down.

Mumbo walked over, easing into the seat beside him. “Hey,” he said softly, giving Grian a warm smile. “How are you doing?”

Grian glanced up, a bit startled, and after a second he held out his cup. “Could you… refill this?” His voice was quiet, almost distant.

Mumbo took the cup but didn’t move, he knew it was alcohol by the smell. “How many cups have you had tonight?” he asked gently, hoping not to make Grian defensive.

Grian froze, his fingers still fiddling with the fruit on his plate. “One…?” he ventured, though the way he said it lacked any hint of conviction. Mumbo raised an eyebrow, and Grian sighed, his shoulders slumping. “Alright, four.”

Mumbo gave him a sympathetic look. He knew Grian wasn’t one to drink much, especially not at these parties. He leaned in a little closer, lowering his voice. “I know it’s not strong alcohol, Grian… but something’s obviously on your mind.”

Grian stayed silent for a long moment, his gaze fixed somewhere distant before he finally murmured, “I like Halloween, but… it’s not the best time for me.”

Mumbo tilted his head, sensing the weight behind Grian’s words. “How come?” he asked, his voice gentle. Grian didn’t respond right away, only tapping the empty cup he’d handed Mumbo earlier, his fingers idly tracing its rim.

Mumbo sighed softly, understanding that whatever was on Grian’s mind wasn’t easy to put into words. He didn’t want to push him. “I’ll get you another drink,” he offered, “but nothing alcoholic this time. Would you prefer water, soda, or maybe some punch?”

Grian hesitated, then looked up at Mumbo with a faint smile. “Water… and a few figs, if there’s any left,” he added, gesturing toward the fruit bowl with a slight lift of his chin.

With a reassuring nod, Mumbo stood up and made his way over to the refreshment table. He poured a cool glass of water and took his time selecting a few of the best figs from the bowl, making sure they were ripe and fresh. On his way back, he noticed the subtle way Grian’s shoulders had relaxed, as though just knowing someone cared had lightened his load a little. He returned, setting the water and figs down in front of Grian.

“Here you go. No alcohol, as promised,” Mumbo said softly, taking a seat beside him again. Grian glanced at him, a flicker of gratitude in his expression as he reached for a fig. He took a small bite, and for a brief second, he seemed more at ease, as though the familiar taste brought him a bit of comfort.

They sat in comfortable silence, Mumbo offering his steady presence as Grian seemed to sink deeper into his thoughts.

Back in the middle of the room, where Gem and Pearl were still laughing and stumbling through their dance attempts, Cleo sauntered over with a mischievous glint in her eye. Just as Pearl tripped over her cape yet again, Cleo smoothly caught her mid-fall, pulling her from Gem’s arms and twirling her dramatically across the floor. Pearl’s laughter died into a squeak as Cleo dipped her low, their faces only inches apart, Cleo’s smirk sending a blush up Pearl’s cheeks.

“Well, look who’s caught herself a dance partner,” Cleo teased, her voice low and playful. Pearl’s face went beet red, her hands gripping Cleo’s arms to steady herself. Without warning, Cleo let go, leaving Pearl to plop unceremoniously onto her backside, still red-faced as Cleo straightened and confidently strode away. Gem was already there, helping Pearl up, her own laughter bubbling out as Pearl regained her footing. As the initial fluster wore off, Pearl dissolved into laughter too, joining Gem as they clutched each other, barely able to breathe from laughing so hard.

Nearby, Zedaph, who had been watching the antics, caught the infectious energy and made his way over to Impulse and Tango. With an excited grin, he pulled both of them into the middle of the room, determined to spark some more fun. “Come on, let’s show them what real moves look like!” he announced, though he stumbled over his own feet as he tried to keep up with the music. Impulse and Tango laughed and fell into rhythm, each moving to the beat with surprising coordination. Zedaph did his best to follow along, but his enthusiasm outpaced his skill, and he ended up fumbling through his steps, finally throwing his hands up in mock defeat.

“Alright, you two are way better than me!” he laughed, moving to the side to cheer them on. But Impulse and Tango were just getting started, trading grins before breaking into an all-out dance battle, each taking turns with dramatic spins, exaggerated hip thrusts, and silly poses. Tango dropped to the floor, breaking into a goofy breakdance move that sent everyone into hysterics, while Impulse responded with a series of smooth moves, topping it off with an exaggerated final pose.

Their friends gathered around, clapping and cheering as the duo showed off. Even Zedaph joined in with a playful attempt to ‘judge’ their moves, holding up an imaginary scorecard and declaring a draw between them.

Keralis, with an impressively detailed costume featuring tentacles sprouting from his back, each one moving with an eerie, lifelike fluidity, couldn’t help but smile as he watched the dance floor erupt in laughter and cheering. His costume was so convincing that several Hermits had done double-takes upon seeing him, wondering if he’d somehow gained actual tentacles overnight. Watching the others lose themselves in the fun, Keralis scanned the room until he spotted Xisuma standing by the sidelines, watching the chaos with a small smile but making no moves to join in.

“Come on.” Keralis called as he strolled over, his tentacles swaying with every step. “One little dance? Just a few moves?”

Xisuma chuckled, shaking his head as he held up his hands. “I think I’ll pass this time, Keralis,” he said, though his eyes held a twinkle of amusement. “I’m not sure I’m ready to join in on a dance battle against these experts.”

Keralis sighed in mock disappointment, dramatically clutching one of his tentacles to his chest. “Such a shame, my friend! But, if no dancing, then at least some pie, hmm?” With a playful wink, he turned and sauntered over to the refreshment table, selecting two generous slices of pumpkin pie, each topped with a dollop of whipped cream. He returned to Xisuma and handed him a slice before settling into the seat beside him.

They watched the others from their corner, laughing as Tango and Impulse’s dance battle continued to escalate, now drawing in other Hermits who cheered, clapped, and even joined in with small dance moves of their own. Every now and then, Keralis would nudge Xisuma, pointing out something funny, like Zedaph attempting a spin and nearly crashing into Cleo, Zed then pretended to be horrified, backing away dramatically.

“This is the best kind of chaos,” Keralis chuckled, savoring a bite of pie. “Halloween really brings out the wild side of everyone, doesn’t it?”

Xisuma nodded, enjoying the camaraderie and warmth of the room. “It really does. I think everyone looks forward to it all year,” he replied, glancing around at his friends, each so fully in the Halloween spirit. “And you—those tentacles are something else,” he added with an impressed laugh. “I’m not sure whether I should be complimenting your costume-making skills or asking where you found them.”

Keralis grinned, waggling a tentacle in response. “Ah, my secrets! But maybe someday, I’ll let you in on them.”

They both laughed, relaxing into their seats as they enjoyed the energy of the room, content to watch the festivities unfold from their cozy corner.

False, grinning mischievously, had made it her mission to startle as many Hermits as she could. Hiding behind tables, pillars, and decorations, she leaped out at unsuspecting friends, relishing every surprised reaction. Her first target was Scar, who had just turned around with a drink in hand. She jumped out with a loud "Boo!" and Scar, ever dramatic, stumbled back with an exaggerated gasp, nearly losing his balance. He let out a yelp, and Cub instinctively caught him, steadying him with a grin. The three of them burst into laughter, Scar clutching his chest in mock horror.

"False! You nearly made me spill my drink!" Scar chuckled, playfully swatting at her. She only responded with a playful wink, already searching for her next victim.

Spotting Joe and Cleo engaged in conversation nearby, she slipped behind a tall decoration and waited for the right moment. When she leapt out, Joe gave a surprised yelp, stumbling backward, but Cleo merely raised an eyebrow, stepping right up to False with a playful glare. She narrowed her eyes, her face mere inches from False’s, and gave a soft, challenging huff.

For a split second, False felt a flustered warmth creep up her cheeks. Cleo’s fierce expression caught her off guard, and she gave an awkward laugh, attempting to mask her own surprise. "Alright, alright, you got me," she admitted, but to break the tension, she gave Cleo a gentle push, nudging her back a step.

"Can’t scare me that easily," Cleo teased, her grin widening as she crossed her arms. As False turned to leave, she caught Joe stifling a laugh behind his hand.

“Guess False isn’t immune to a little scare either!” Joe quipped, giggling at False’s reaction.

False, still blushing slightly, tossed a playful glare back at them. "Just you wait, Joe! I’ll get you again when you least expect it!” she said, already scanning the room for her next target with renewed determination.

False had planned for a dramatic reaction, hoping to startle Grian and Mumbo for a good laugh, but she hadn’t anticipated just how startled Grian would actually be. The moment she jumped out, brandishing her harmless, prop knife with a playful shout, Mumbo had made a startled noise and stumbled back, but Grian's response was on a whole different level.

Grian's mango hit the floor with a soft thud as he let out a piercing shriek, stepping back with his wings suddenly flared wide in a panicked display. In his fear, he stumbled backward, falling onto the ground, his wings curling protectively around himself like a shield. False froze, her heart dropping as she watched him tremble. She quickly realized this wasn’t some dramatic, over-the-top reaction for fun. Grian was genuinely frightened.

Dropping her knife, False crouched beside him, reaching out gently. “Grian? It’s just me. Are you alright?” she said softly, her usual confidence replaced by genuine concern.

Grian peeked out from behind his wings, his eyes wide and unsteady, catching sight of her just inches away. His reaction was swift and instinctual; his talon shot out, brushing past her cheek with surprising speed. She didn’t flinch, but his claw managed to catch the edge of her headpiece, knocking the black-and-white bunny ears right off her head. They toppled to the floor, landing softly next to her.

At the sight of False’s now normal head, something shifted in Grian’s expression. His breathing slowed, and the fearful tension in his shoulders loosened, as if some unspoken reassurance had clicked into place. His wings relaxed, drawing back closer to his body, and he blinked, almost in confusion, as if he’d just snapped out of a nightmare.

False offered a small, comforting smile, keeping her voice low. “It’s okay, Grian. I didn’t mean to scare you that badly. I’m sorry—really.” She reached over, picking up his mango from the floor and gently placing it in his hand, hoping the small gesture would ground him a bit.

Grian took a shaky breath, gripping the fruit as he slowly met her gaze. “I—sorry, I didn’t mean to… react like that.” His voice was quieter than usual, almost embarrassed, as his wings folded back neatly. “Guess you just got me a little too good,” he added with a weak chuckle, though it was clear he was still trying to calm himself down.

False placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “No need to apologize, Grian. I didn’t realize… well, I didn’t mean to take it that far.” She smiled gently, picking up her bunny ears and placing them back on her head. “But, hey, maybe I’ll stick to scaring Mumbo next time. He’s a bit less… defensive.” She gave him a wink, hoping a touch of humor would ease the lingering tension.

Grian’s chuckle was a little more genuine this time, and he nodded. “Thanks, False,” he said softly, his fingers still holding tightly to the mango as he took a deep breath, visibly relaxing.

Where Tango and Impulse were dancing, Tango, caught up in the beat and excitement, managed to trip over his own feet, stumbling forward right into Impulse. The two tumbled to the floor in a heap, Impulse's chains clattering loose from his wings and scattering around them. They both looked at each other in surprise before breaking into uncontrollable laughter, the kind that made their sides ache.

“Sorry! Sorry!” Tango said, still chuckling as he scrambled to his feet. He bent down and picked up the metal chains, starting to reattach them to Impulse’s costume with exaggerated care. “Can’t have the fearsome chained dragon running around unchained, right?”

Impulse grinned, giving Tango a playful nudge as he helped him loop the chains back over his wings. "Just as long as you don’t knock me over again, I think we’ll be good.”

At that moment, Joe ambled over, holding a soda in one hand and adopting a serious expression as he flipped open an imaginary notebook. "Gentlemen! Care to comment on the recent incident of clumsiness during what seemed to be an otherwise coordinated dance battle?”

“Uh, no comment!” Tango said, putting on a mock-serious face as he tried to keep a straight expression.

“Is it true, Mr. Tek, that your choice of dance style led to this chaotic disruption?” Joe continued, raising an eyebrow in playful interrogation.

Before Tango or Impulse could answer, Cleo approached, carrying a slice of cake and watching Joe with a smirk. She tilted her head, leveling a mock glare at him. Joe froze mid-question, eyes wide, his entire body going still as he slowly lifted the soda up in front of him, as if using it as a shield.

“Oh no, the infamous Cleo glare!” Joe exclaimed, putting on an exaggeratedly horrified face as he held his position, pretending to turn to stone on the spot. He held the pose, keeping absolutely still as if he’d been petrified, until Cleo, with a satisfied smirk, turned on her heel and headed back to the snack table. With exaggerated caution, Joe ‘unfroze’ and hurried after her, clearly not willing to risk another round of her intimidating stare.

Tango and Impulse, watching the scene unfold, were nearly doubled over with laughter. "You gotta watch out for Cleo," Impulse whispered, nudging Tango. "One look from her, and you’re done for.”

Tango nodded, grinning. “Noted. I’ll try to avoid getting 'petrified' tonight.” They shared a laugh, glancing over to where Joe had rejoined Cleo, still looking slightly wary as she pretended to ignore him with an amused smile.

As the night wore on, the food dwindled down to a few stray slices of pie and some scattered candies. Those who were still awake began gathering leftovers into containers, chatting lazily as the exhaustion from the night’s festivities caught up with them. It was nearly five in the morning, and the energetic buzz from hours earlier had softened into sleepy smiles and stifled yawns.

Grian was the first to excuse himself, stretching as he picked up a small container filled with treats. “Alright, I think that’s my limit,” he said, offering a small wave to the others. “If I don’t head back now, my cats might think I’ve abandoned them.”

False chuckled, giving him a gentle nudge. “Right, can’t leave those fluffy troublemakers alone too long. Go get some rest!”

Grian nodded, his face softening with a sleepy smile. “Goodnight, everyone,” he mumbled, already looking half-asleep as he shuffled out the door, his wings drooping just slightly.

Not long after, Mumbo and Iskall decided to head out as well. Mumbo, who had taken out his fake vampire fangs about half an hour earlier, was nursing his sore gums. “I swear, they felt real enough,” he complained, holding up the fangs with a half-hearted grimace. “They even started cutting into my gums.”

Iskall laughed, clapping him on the shoulder. “That’s the beauty of them, Mumbo—feels like they’re real, even when they’re not. Though, I suppose they’re a bit of a pain when it’s this late.”

Mumbo rolled his eyes, but he was too tired to argue further, slipping the fake fangs into his pocket and waving to the remaining Hermits. “Goodnight, or… good morning, I guess,” he said with a chuckle, getting a few tired waves in return.

As they left, they passed by Tango and Zedaph, who were struggling to keep their eyes open as they packed up a few slices of pie and cookies. Tango glanced over at Mumbo, chuckling softly. “Guess we really partied till sunrise, huh?”

Mumbo gave him a thumbs-up, his eyelids drooping. “You know it. Hope you two had fun.”

“Oh, definitely,” Zedaph replied, smiling through a yawn.

Across the room, Cleo sat chatting with Joe and Stress, the three huddled around a nearly empty plate of snacks. Cleo, ever the night owl, looked as energized as if it were the middle of the day, her eyes bright with amusement as she recounted a story from earlier in the party. Joe and Stress, however, were both fighting off yawns, occasionally nodding in agreement with Cleo but clearly more focused on staying awake than the conversation. Joe had leaned back in his seat, trying to blink away his exhaustion, while Stress’ head was beginning to droop, her eyes fluttering closed mid-laugh.

Noticing Stress swaying, False came over, offering a soft chuckle as she placed a gentle hand on her friend’s shoulder. “I think it’s time to get you home,” she said quietly, carefully lifting Stress up into her arms with ease. Stress muttered a sleepy protest, but she quickly nestled into False’s arms, already drifting into a deep slumber.

“Night, everyone!” False called over her shoulder with a wave, managing to maneuver Stress toward the door as Cleo, Joe, and a few others waved back.

Meanwhile, across the room, Pearl had just opened and closed her moth wings, testing them as they shimmered in the dim light. One of her wings, however, stretched out a little too far and whacked Gem squarely in the face, causing her to stumble back in surprise.

“Careful there, Pearl!” Gem laughed, giving Pearl a playful punch on the arm. “Unless you’re trying to start a fight at dawn?”

Pearl giggled, her cheeks flushing slightly. “Sorry! These wings have a mind of their own, I swear.”

Gem rolled her eyes, still smiling as she adjusted her own costume. “Maybe they’re tired, too. Or maybe they just think you’ve got one last dance in you.”

Pearl smirked, suddenly grabbing Gem’s hands and giving her a little spin. The two stumbled and laughed as they swayed clumsily, both barely awake but too amused to stop.

"Anyway, I’d better be getting home." Pearl chuckled, giving Gem a gentle pat on the head. She turned to go, but Gem called after her, “Bye, Pearl! Thanks for the dance!” Pearl waved, already halfway to the door, and Gem grinned as she grabbed a cup of water, feeling the night finally catching up with her.

Across the room, Xisuma was making his way around, checking in with the Hermits as they said their goodbyes and began trickling out. He noticed Keralis by the door, a little less dressed-up than earlier, and walked over with a curious tilt of his head.

“Hey, where’d your costume go?” Xisuma asked, noting the absence of the elaborate tentacles that had once protruded from Keralis’s back.

Keralis flashed a mischievous grin. “Oh, they were too heavy to keep on this long. Had to take them off eventually, you know? But I made it most of the night with them!” He waved a hand dismissively, as if it were no big deal, but the sparkle in his eyes suggested he’d enjoyed the reactions they’d garnered.

Xisuma chuckled, glancing around the room. “Where’d you put them, anyway? I feel like they’d make a good addition to the Halloween storage for next year.”

Keralis raised an eyebrow, his smirk widening. “Wouldn’t you like to know?” he teased, patting Xisuma’s shoulder with a wink.

With a playful sigh, Xisuma rolled his eyes and pulled Keralis into a small, warm hug. “Alright, mystery man. I’ll let you keep your secrets. But next year, I’m holding you to another epic costume.”

Keralis laughed, nodding as he patted Xisuma’s back. “I wouldn’t dream of disappointing. See you later, X.”

“Later, Keralis,” Xisuma replied, giving a final wave as he watched his friend slip out the door.

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