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My Fate Is In Your Hands - Entry 7

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[A/N: This is a story entirely guided by you guys, by the readers. Be sure to vote at the end of each entry! ALSO, if you'd like to be added the tag list, please let me know and I'll be sure to add you next time!]

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➤ Examine the patches. He could learn something new about the familiar stranger.

Learning more about the stranger Jimmy rescued can only help the situation…right? The more they know about him, the better they can handle the situation…and the better they can help him.

The spacesuit the pilot is wearing used to be pure white, Jimmy’s sure, even if it was now dusted in gray and black and red, ash and soot and mesa sand. But even then it’s in fairly good condition despite the crash, and the patches stitched into the fabric and their accompanying lettering are still legible. Jimmy squints at the text, reading past the damage.

The word H.A.S.A. is stitched on a round blue-and-red patch at his shoulder, though the logo isn't one he recognizes. And there's another string of letters across the man's chest, backed in red and sewn in black - something Jimmy can only assume must be a name.

T. TEK

It’s familiar, much like the stranger himself. This, too, feels like something Jimmy should know, and it tugs at his mind, at a memory just out of reach.

"...of the Tek variety. Nice to meet ya! So he dragged you into his game too, huh? Heh, should be a good time..."

There's a cocky sort of grin hovering out of sight, and eyes he can't make out the color of that sparkle with a chaotic sort of mischief. He pauses and pulls the cleaning cloth away to stare at the still and expressionless face of the man on the bed. He swears he knows him.

"...welcome, contestants! This is Dare to Flare..."

"...called You Bet Your Life. Basically, what it is..."

Jimmy reaches out against his better judgment and runs his fingers over the nametag, the stitching raised beneath his touch. He frowns, chewing his lip, a flurry of familiar words and voices running through his head like an echo as he puzzles over what that first initial might stand for. Then–

“Noooo! No, I’m so sorry–”“What happened, Tango? Take me through it…”

Tango.

Tango Tek.

Jimmy lets out a breath with wide eyes, tracing the letters again with his fingertip and letting that revelation sink in. He doesn’t know how he knows it’s right, he just knows. He can’t explain it. He’s still staring in wonder at the soot-dusted nametag when he hears the sound of approaching rockets and jolts from his thoughts.

Oh, void, right. The crash. Shelby. Potions. Gods, he’s being an idiot–

Jimmy carefully cleans the rest of the blood and soot from the pilot’s face with all the gentleness he can muster, and he’s only just depositing the cloth back in its bowl when he hears Shelby calling from the front door.

“In here!” he returns, his eyes lingering on the stranger - on Tango. “Bedroom!”

Now that Shelby’s here, he feels a little (a lot) more confident that Tango’s going to be alright. For now, he can focus on helping patch him up. For now, he can shove the odd familiarity of the not-stranger from his thoughts. Later, he can ponder at why he even knows Tango’s name and why his face feels so achingly familiar…but later. Later. Maybe when Tango is finally awake. Maybe he’ll gain some answers to his questions then. Later.

The door clicks open and Shelby nearly trips into the room, clutching her oversized hat to her head with one hand and scrambling to catch her broomstick with the other, just barely managing not to fall.

“Who is it? What happened? Whaddaya need?” she asks in a rush, clumsily kicking the door shut again and leaning her broom in the corner of the room. “What’s – oh my gosh.”

Jimmy sets the water and rag aside as she comes closer, smiling sheepishly at her wide-eyed expression.

“So, er…” He gestures toward the pilo- Tango. Toward Tango. “Funny story. A spaceship crashed outside Tumble Town an’ this is the pilot.” Shelby’s wide eyes turn to him instead and he chuckles weakly. “Trust me, I know how crazy it sounds,” he says, and she comes over to stand beside him and stare down at Tango’s unconscious form.

She pokes his leg with her finger.

“Is he an alien?” she stage-whispers, and Jimmy almost laughs. Almost. Instead, he twitters weakly and gestures to Tango’s non-human features.

“I don’t know!” he says, a bit hysterical. “He fell out of the sky! And he was unconscious when I found him, it’s not like I could ask! He’s - look,” Jimmy yanks off his hat and rakes his fingers through his hair, sighing heavily. “Look, all I know is he’s hurt, alright? I just wanna help ‘im.”

At this, Shelby jolts.

“Oh! Potions! Right! Sorry!” She swipes through the air, summoning her inventory and rifling through it for what she needs. Colorful glass bottles fall into her hands and she sets them on the bed one by one, red and pink and orange clinking softly against each other. Health. Regeneration. Fire resistance.

The last one makes Jimmy pause. He hangs his hat on the chair by the bed and picks up the orange-filled bottle from the collection. He tilts it in his hand, the light of the lanterns overhead reflecting off the glass and making the potion inside look like lava. He recalls what he thought he’d seen on the flight over, the dancing light in Tango’s hair that he was so sure were flames. Then his eyes fall on Tango, remembering the bruises and the scrapes he’d acquired…but no burns, as far as Jimmy could tell. No burns.

“...I don’t think he needs this one,” Jimmy murmurs, and that same certainty stirs in his chest that he’d felt upon realizing Tango’s name.

Shelby doesn’t notice, too busy darting around the bed to get a closer look at Tango - what little of him wasn’t covered by his spacesuit.

“Hmm…we probably need to get him out of this thing to see how bad it is,” she muses, her head tilting to the side and her hat tipping precariously. Her eyes widen. “Oh, geez - he’s bleeding. Hang on–”

Jimmy’s breath catches and he abandons the fire resistance potion where he found it. Right! The head wound. Void, he’d forgotten–

Jimmy quickly offers her a clean cloth across the bed and she pours bright red potion onto it, tugging aside Jimmy’s makeshift bandage and replacing it with the healing-doused rag. Shelby sets the open bottle on the bedside table and reaches for a pink one instead, tugging out the cork with her teeth.

“Any chance you know how to get this spaceman armor off?” she asks, dripping regen carefully onto the rag she’s already using, the scent of sweet melons and nether spice wafting into the air.

“Er–” Jimmy blinked down at the spacesuit, at the odd stiff collar the helmet had been attached to and the thick material the suit was made from. He can’t see a zipper or buttons of any kind at a glance - though he’s sure he can find an opening somewhere if Shelby really needs him to.

“I dunno,” he tells her with a wince, taking up a cloth of his own to start tending to the other scrapes and cuts littering Tango’s face from his shattered visor. “But he got into it somehow, right?”

Shelby nods, her tongue sticking out between her teeth as she focuses on her task.

“Let’s get this sorted first, then we can take a look,” she tells him, taking a tick to glance up at him. Maybe she can tell how concerned he is, because she flashes him a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry, Sheriff! He’ll be fine. I’m great at potions, and you’re great at taking care of people. We’ve got this!”

Jimmy lets out a soft, tired breath and returns the smile.

They’ve got this. The stranger will be okay.

Tango will be okay.

...

At the maw of a glowing purple rift that cuts a jagged shape into the wall of the massive cave it calls home, an avian with macaw-colored wings stands gaping at its purpureal light. A pair of well-worn goggles is clutched in his grip, flecks of redstone dust rubbing off onto his skin. He’s quiet. He’s quiet, and his eyes mirror the rift before him in both color and luminescence.

Almost an hour has passed since he arrived to find a friend standing where he now stands, his blue hair ablaze and an untamable emotion spilling off of him in waves. Tango had looked so upset, so desperate…and Grian hadn’t quite been able to talk him out of his insane idea.

“You said it’s a portal to other worlds. Plural. So one of ‘em could be his.”

“Technically, maybe, but - but it’s unstable! Why d’you think I’ve been experimenting with–”

“Screw unstable! You said you sent stuff through, right?”

“Yes, but I haven’t gotten anything back. And I haven’t even tried to send a player through–”

“Then send me.”

“What?! Tango–!”

“I’m going through either way. You might as well collect the data when I do–”

“No! Absolutely not! Xisuma would have my head - Impulse would have my head if I let you–”

“You’re not letting me do anything. I’m going.”

The rest of the conversation had spiraled, had exploded, had careened out of control - and Tango had thrown himself through the rift before Grian could stop him. He hadn’t been able to stop him. So…he’d Watched. He’d kept an eye on his friend, as well as he could when following a speck through an endless and unpredictable schism in space, but he’d Watched.

He’s Watching.

He sees the connection, the transformation, the way the narrative of the Empires server brings Tango into her fold, morphing a piece of his past into the form he takes in the present. He may have been acting as a dungeon master on Hermitcraft, but on Empires he becomes a pilot. He becomes an astronaut. He becomes the desperate not-quite-hero he’d been at the end of the last season, and he crashes.

Grian keeps his Eye on Tango for as long as he can, or at least up until he watches Jimmy salvage him from the wreck and bring him home. It’s only when Jimmy and a witch from a neighboring empire are arranging potions on the bedside table that he pulls away, letting out a breath and massaging the bridge of his nose.

Voidammit, Tango.

At least now Grian has more reason to rush and finish fixing the rift. They’re going to need to get Tango back eventually…he can only hope the narrative doesn’t affect Tango’s memories too much in the meanwhile. And at least he found his soulmate again. He’ll be happy there until the Hermits can reach him. Jimmy will make sure of it, Grian knows.

Soulmates don’t ever stop being soulmates, after all.

[Tag List] @firefly124 @mellioops @beaversuenightly @aris-has-a-paracosm @sincerely-nines @changeling-ash

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#Team Rancher #Solidaritek #ESMP S2 #Trafficshipping #Tumble Town #SolidarityGaming #TangoTek #Jimmy Solidarity #Pixiemage Writes #Fate Entries #MFIIYH #Hermitcraft S8 #Moon Big #HASA Tango #Great Witch Shelby

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