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Acceptance Is A Beautiful Thing

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A Gahe, more commonly known as a mountain-person, seeking comfort in isolated mountains like that of a hermit — never fitting in with the humans despite putting on a disguise when he went to their civilisations — sparking the slightest bit of magic to heal other creatures but not himself.

A Voidling, forced to flee to the Overworld when bad circumstances happen and a loved one turned rogue, no longer recognising the Voidling as his brother — instead seeking murder, making him live the rest of his life in a foreign realm where the air was just too dense, requiring a helmet to wear at all times.

Generik was at the end of his life when he met Xisuma — who was wheezing on the sidewalk, clutching a broken helmet — and with one single eye contact he knew at once that he had to take Xisuma under his wing. That he was just the same as him — something not quite human in a world of prejudiced humans, and he was vulnerable — so Generik offered protection at once, knowing that he would leave Xisuma to fend for himself soon when Death took him.

Xisuma had been grateful for Generik nonetheless. He had stupidly broken his helmet in a road accident, finding himself suffocating in the Overworld's denser air, when an old, bearded man with intricate tattoos approached him, and their eyes had met — and suddenly he found breathing easier, as sparks were forming from the Gahe's fingers.

 

"Come with me," Generik had said. "To the mountains. I will keep you safe."

"Really?" Xisuma whispered, unable to speak with a normal voice just yet.

The Gahe nodded. "This isn't a place for us non-humans. I promise I will keep you safe," he repeated once again.

Xisuma had agreed at once, and off the two went to Generik's mountain, spending the rest of their lives in solitude like the hermit-like Gahe preferred. It felt nice for Xisuma, knowing that he's not alone — he's not the only freak in a world of humans, and especially knowing that he's safe with Generik.

 

And then Generik was clinging to Xisuma's arm on his bed, his lips struggling to give Xisuma an important message to "make sure you give to the world what the world had given to you". To which Xisuma had promised to do as rare tears fell down his eyes, watching the person that saved his life get taken away by Death.

Generik's last message in mind, Xisuma packed up after planting some flowers in honour of his guardian, not wanting to live in the mountains anymore now that he's gone. He took everything he might need, and settled off to go the distance, hoping that the humans he will pass by won't notice him as much.

 

 

Funny, how minorities had always existed, yet the humans never realised them — and once they do, they turned extremely hostile and prejudiced, despite those minorities never doing anything to disrupt their peace at all.

From avians to witches, to zombies and werewolves, to imps and slimes, and just about any other mythical creature out there — they exist. And they seek survival more than anything else in the world — since all the humans wanted to do was to get rid of them in any way possible.

So when Xisuma wandered on his journey, he realised what Generik's words had meant — the world had given him a safe space, and it was up for him to do the same with the minorities around him. There was an abundance of them, and most of them were half-human in some ways, so they desperately longed to live as one.

 

He had offered a safe space, to the man that appeared when he was decorating an abandoned warehouse as a base — claiming that the Gods had used him as a vessel, that he was an oracle of a sort, and Xisuma had his first addition to the group.

And to the elf that had an affinity to electricity and automation, clumsy as he was — he had joined Xisuma's little group soon after and brought some interesting ideas and innovations to their space.

Adding up to their little family, was the half-kobold that had grouched at him when he accidentally disrupted his mining, using a trusty pickaxe to mine ores after ores with ease, like the weight and toil was nothing to him.

Then came a half-siren, her blonde locks and blue eyes enticing — but they had learned quickly that she was a dangerous threat if one's not careful, and she, too, became one of the group.

Then the oracle brought home a zombie to Xisuma's shock, although once he insisted that she was harmless Xisuma had agreed to take her in at once, understanding that she, too, deserved refuge.

And a half-slime, able to shapeshift and made light go through him, and even though the others had never seen something quite like him before, they accepted him just the same.

 

They lived together for a while, with other different creatures of minorities visiting and leaving their base at times, but no one had stayed with them full-time anymore.

Until Xisuma noticed two creatures on his night stroll — seemingly human but not quite, chattering on top of some oddly out-of-place obsidian — a fire-spirit and a half-imp, who had escaped the depths of Hell and the Devil for God knows what reason.

Not too long after, a cyborg-creeper knocked on their door, muttering how the humans had wanted to kill him despite him stating that he's safe to be around, he's laced with machines for God's sake — and Xisuma took him in, as well.

 

So yes, their family was growing. Next came five new members at once, knocking on Xisuma's door — a cyborg holding an injured werewolf, an eagle-winged man asking riddles to the wizard next to him as if he was a sphinx, and a ghost who seemed to have died in the Medieval times with his armour intact, rolling his eyes at the other four.

 

Their family was growing and growing, and more people were coming and leaving — some had been there since it was only Xisuma alone, even if they weren't there to stay.

A half-banshee that wasn't accepted by the humans nor the banshee — since he was a male, wearing a facemask at all times to stop his urges to scream.

A witch that had his hair covered with a black cloth, making the others joke if he was a descendant of Medusa.

A limonead that spent days caring over the flower fields on their base, scurrying to hide when the sun sets.

Another ghost — with blood down his clothes, seemingly a butcher in his past life.

A pair of dwarves, both soft-spoken and excitable, insisting on calling Xisuma a name from their language, one with wide eyes that made him seem eternally shocked, the other with a calming, kindly expression quite the opposite.

 

Just when Xisuma thought there couldn't possibly be any new creatures seeking refuge permanently — not that he'd minded, anyway — the not-Medusa witch on his group brought home another brunette witch along, and just a few days after, the fire-spirit was somehow seen chattering to an elf with violet eyes — without asking for Xisuma's permission or letting him know beforehand — but the Voidling just shook his head and took the elf in as well.

 

The latest addition to their ever-growing family was an avian, wings even more majestic than those of the descendant of Sphinx even though he would never admit so, flying around and chattering around their base, not just to the others, but talking to the chickens and parrots as well.

 

Xisuma knew that his base was growing less and less secure as more and more people joined. So he worked, day and night, using his Void powers to secure their place with a system not known to the humans, keeping them safe and sound.

From an abandoned warehouse to an entire island where they were able to live together in peace, not worrying about any form of discrimination.

An island called Hermitcraft based on his late guardian's habits and affinity to solitude.

There they lived, from oracles to dwarves to ghosts to banshees, building a civilisation of their own and living together in harmony — and most importantly, they felt accepted on Hermitcraft.

 

 

Xisuma climbed up to one of his towers, looking at the stars in awe. Everyone else in Hermitcraft was asleep — a lot of them loved to pull all-nighters, but this very hour was late for even the hardest of workers, and Xisuma was alone — but he didn't feel lonely.

"Generik," he said to the stars, wistful as he was, "thank you for accepting me."