Chapter Text
The winds were warm the day they docked at a large seaside village. His boots thumped harshly against the wooden dock and his wings ruffled behind him.
“We won’t be here long.” Puffy assured, “I’m sure you’re all just itching to go back to sea.”
Mumbled agreements left the mouths of the crew as they stumbled their way onto the docks one by one, only a fraction of the crew stayed behind. Eret perched against the railing as they watched, a wise smile on their lips. What it was that they knew was a mystery to everyone.
“We’re just stocking up on supplies, so don’t go buying anything stupid that we don’t need. Get a pair of shoes, a new shirt, a trinket or two, a new weapon, but no stupid purchases, got it? No souvenir shit.” Puffy ordered, “And be back by sunset or we set sail without you.”
It was Puffy’s usual spiel, so Phil found himself paying little attention in favor of approaching the area of railing where Eret stood. They smiled down at him as he approached.
“Just what is it that you know this time?” Phil teased.
Eret slowly crouched, crushing their billowing dress beneath their legs in order to better extend their arm towards Phil.
Phil took their hand and watched as they closed their eyes to concentrate. “I see…” They paused, “Opportunity.” They smiled and tilted their head. “Be on the lookout for a peculiar pair… be kind… and this place could behold strong new allies.” They concluded.
Phil considered the words, then smiled. He moved to walk away, but Eret quickly grabbed his hand again. “Buy a souvenir.” They advised with a wink, then softly let go of his hand and stood.
Baffled, Phil watched them walk away from the railing and out of sight.
“Move it, old man.” Puffy said as she playfully shoulder-checked him. It snapped Phil out of his confused daze and got a smile out of him.
“I’m moving, I’m moving.” He surrendered and began to walk down the dock in the direction of the town.
“What’s got your face all twisted like that, anyway? Did Eret give you a prophecy?” Puffy asked, waking beside him.
“Something like that. According to them, I might meet a new friend or two here.”
“Aw, good. You could use some friends.” Puffy teased.
Phil chuckled. “You make it sound as though I’m antisocial.”
“You’re certainly the mysterious and brooding type. Just look at how long it took you to get used to my crew.”
“I’m not mysterious or brooding.” Phil huffed.
“You're definitely mysterious and brooding.” Puffy laughed. “None of us know the full story of your past, and if you don’t want to share that’s completely fine. But, I have the right to think you’re strange.”
Phil twisted the buttons on his coat as he pondered this. He found that he didn’t exactly mind the thought of telling Puffy everything anymore, it was just… a long, unbelievable story. “Maybe someday, you’ll know. Maybe someday, the whole crew will know. But today… is not that day.” He huffed. “All you need to know is that I’m in a much better situation now than I used to be- aside from being with my wife. I miss being with her.”
“You’ll see her again, won’t you?” Puffy asked.
“I will.” Phil nodded. “I would do anything to see her again, when the time is right.”
Puffy smiled and lifted her seagull-like wings to briefly curl around Phil’s shoulder. “I’ll be parting ways with you here. I need to get supplies.” She said with a spin and proceeded to walk backwards to keep facing Phil. “In the meantime, go get something nice for yourself. You need more than a few belongings. Get some new clothes, or an accessory, or something. No souvenirs, though.”
Phil’s smile turned a bit wobbly. “Got it. No souvenirs.” He lied.
:۞:••:۞:••: ❈ :••:۞:••:۞:
Tommy woke abruptly. So abruptly, that for a moment he was unsure whether or not he was dreaming. His head was pounding and his chest ached, he was freezing yet drenched in sweat. It felt like hell.
He sat up, and the whole world tilted sideways. His hands flew to his head with a groan as he mentally pleaded for everything to stop spinning. A mental checklist began to form in his mind, attempting to deduce why he’d woken so suddenly. He didn’t remember having any dreams or nightmares, just a heavy blackness.
After a moment, it was as if his soul returned to his body, and his stomach rolled. Tommy lurched out of bed, stumbling to his feet with a bit of struggle as his breaths came in coughs from the movement.
Bare feet hit the wooden floors in a desperate attempt to make it to the door. Not a thought crossed his mind, only a strange survival instinct as he burst through the door, the sudden lack of warmth from his blankets and cold air permeating his thin tunic made him shiver so violently that his feathers stood on end.
Hallway. Hallway. He needed to get to the restroom, it would be his sanctuary. Panic panic panic.
Before he could even take a step down the hallway towards the restroom, his stomach rolled again and without his permission he was wretching. It felt boiling as it rose from his stomach and left him weak in the knees. He leaned against the wall, tears pricking at his eyes and a heavy anxious shame in his heart as his toast from earlier splattered onto the floor.
Ew. His mind supplied, unhelpfully. For a moment, he almost felt better. Clearer. It felt as if the worst was over, aside from still feeling the sweat and unnatural heat in his skin. And then that moment ended. Shit. FUCK!
He'd made a mess. He’d just made a mess in someone else’s house, right in the middle of the room where it would inconvenience everyone. It was gross. He was gross. They would know he was sick. They could take advantage of it.
Just clean it up! Hide the evidence! A part of him suggested. Yet, he found himself frozen. He stared at the mess he made, the very vile sight of it almost making him feel sick all over again. He was stock still, unable to get himself to move.
He could feel the ache in his palms where his fists were clenched tight at the hem of his tunic. He could feel his bristled feathers. He could feel the fire in his throat, the ache in his stomach.
He could feel the tears building up in his eyes and overflowing. Despite his mouth being glued shut, tiny sobs forced their way through in muffled gasps.
Tommy had to go.
He’d done something terrible, and he needed to leave.
He couldn’t stay here after this!
Shakily, Tommy forced himself to take the first step forwards. It felt as if his feet were made of the heaviest object known to man, and it was a struggle to get his body to work.
He nearly toppled over by the time he had reached the livingroom, and Clementine seemed to have woken up from all the racket. She squawked and cawed at him, but he ignored it. He couldn’t even look at them. Not when it seemed like she was pleading, not when she got up and flew to the nearest surface to him, not when she pecked at his sleeves.
Tommy blinked, and darkness filled his vision only for color to fade back in with him standing at the door. Dazed and not quite sure when he’d got there, he hesitated to open the door. His hand rested on the handle, and he felt cold seeping under the doorframe and into his skin, yet the feeling of a warm embrace that wasn’t there sat heavy on his shoulders..
With Clementine still squawking loudly, he pushed open the door and reveled in the cold that permeated his thin clothes within an instant. Distantly, he remembered he wasn’t wearing shoes. That didn’t matter as much as the violent shiver that wracked his body at the chill of the air. In a way, it was relieving, yet it was also painful. His fever hadn’t really subsided- not that he was aware of that.
Still, with Tommy’s adrenaline high, he took off onto the porch and down the snow-covered stairs. He was surprised he didn’t slip, somewhere in the back of his mind. His lungs screamed at him and it felt as though his tears froze onto his cheeks as he ran. From behind him, he could hear Phil and Wilbur speaking somewhere on the other side of the house. It faded as he ran further.
He ran through the field, ignoring the burning of the soles of his feet as he ran through snow, ice, and pebbles. Once, he tripped over some strange wooden stick-thing in the field and the sensation of metal knicking his foot barely registered over the numbness.
No. He wasn’t going fast enough. He needed to go further.
His wings spread behind him, and he stumbled as they caught wind. With an experimental flap, he decided to change his course from the forest’s edge to make a beeline towards the nearest boulder. Everything in his body ached as he climbed it, and without time to think or hesitate, he jumped off with his wings spread wide.
And, for a moment, he flew.
Something inside of him cheered. Something inside of him soured.
He flapped his wings desperately in order to keep in the air, and he found it more difficult to fly forward than it was to keep getting higher and higher…
He wasn’t flying.
Not really.
He didn’t know how to fly.
Just when he got high enough off the ground to be afraid of looking down, just when he’d gotten a good few yards away from that boulder, a gust of wind caught him.
He went rocketing forwards, and then downwards, and then… he was on the ground.
He cried out, and the sheer agony threatened to raise more bile. The frantic and suffocating sobbing was doing nothing to help, either.
If he could breathe for a moment, he might be able to just… drift back to sleep. If he could ignore the achiness and the numbness. Maybe he could forget it all. With his crying, he might fall asleep anyway. The darkness was creeping in. Was he even breathing at all?
“Tommy?” a familiar voice said above him, and he hadn’t even heard footsteps. His first instinct was to try and shrink into himself to make himself smaller and a harder target- but merely flinching at the sound was fresh hell for him.
“Oh, stars…!” The voice said, a but more alarmed. Tommy screwed his eyes shut tightly- not that he’d been seeing much other than snow and grass stalks anyway- but he surely didn’t want to see whatever the other was seeing to make them sound so scared.
It took a moment of strange indecisive pacing for the voice to decide to try and gently pick Tommy up. This was a mistake, as Tommy immediately panicked and attempted to flail, which also hurt his wing more and made him more panicked.
“Stop! Stop! It’s okay! I’m not tryin’ to hurt you!” The voice shouted with an iron grip attempting to clamp down on all of Tommy’ rogue limbs, “You’re gonna make it worse!” At least with that accent, Tommy could tell it was Technoblade. He didn’t know if that made him feel better or worse.
“I’m gonna try not to jostle you too much, but I need to bring you back to the cabin and get dad. He’ll know what to do.” Technoblade said, though he trailed off at the end- almost as if he were speaking to comfort himself.
Tommy could only sob in reply, but it seemed that his cease of struggle was answer enough for Technoblade to begin walking.
There was something familiar about this situation. A type of déjà vu Tommy was incapable of experiencing or understanding aside from a sinking feeling in his gut that mixed around with nausea from the unbearable pain.
The trudge through the field was excruciatingly slow, each of Technoblade’s lumbering steps wobbling and sending a surge through Tommy’s nerves, but he was clearly only trying to be careful. Tommy was tempted to tell him to just run instead, as he would hurt regardless of if Technoblade jostled him less or more.
He didn’t want to go back. He didn’t want them to see.
He let out a pitiful whine, and this spurred Technoblade into walking s little faster. Tommy’s eyes were still screwed shut, but he could feel the uncomfortable sensation of a thick liquid dripping slowly down his back.
He didn’t want them to see.
“Dad!” Technoblade called out, his steps clumsy through the snow, “Dad I need your help!” The vulnerable words sounded so strange coming from someone who looked so strong.
He continued to call out as he walked, each step rippling pain through Tommy’ wings. Each shout rumbled through his chest. He must have blacked out, because in the span of a blink, they had crossed the field.
Tommy was unaware of the strange déjà vu Phil felt upon hearing Techno call for him running through the field like that again, but it sent ice straight through his heart. Tommy could hear a soft crash and two extra pairs of footsteps drag through the snow and a few muffled shouts he didn’t bother to pay attention to. He only remembered by jostled and feeling the way Technoblade’s steps went from strained to effortless with the sound of creaking boards.
The porch. They were on the porch! Tommy groaned, but he couldn’t find the strength to struggle. Through the haze of pain, he could faintly make out what the others were saying.
“-Never seen his wings before…” Phil.
“-Found him like this… was flying away…” Technoblade.
“-Need to treat him… so much blood…” Wilbur.
Tommy heard the click of the door, and his already pounding heart practically stopped. “…No..!” He slurred, “Can’t go in there..!” His protest caused a grunt of pain from Technoblade, and things started coming back into focus.
“Woah, woah, calm down, mate…!” Phil quietly soothed, “We’re gonna help you..!”
“Can’t go in there…” Tommy repeated.
“Is there something in there?” Technoblade asked, suddenly on guard.
“…Something you needed to get away from?” Wilbur added.
Tommy stilled. Shit.
“Come on, we can face it together, whatever it is.” Phil said, determination unwavering as he pushed open the door. Tommy nearly wailed. He only wished he could curl up and disappear- he’d just gotten used to the idea of living somewhere for more than a few days, he couldn’t afford to lose than now. Especially not during winter.
The three of them carefully made their way inside, Tommy still held close to Technoblade’s chest. There wasn’t any evidence of Tommy’s mistake at first, but the further they walked into the room, he could smell it. The putrid scent of spoiled food and stomach acid.
A soft caw sounded and Clementine flew to perch on his shoulder momentarily. She stared down at him with her beady eyes for a moment as if checking on him before flying over to Phil- no doubt to tattle.
Somehow, though, Wilbur seemed to be the first to catch sight of it. “Ew!” He shrieked and jumped backwards as if he’d been bitten. Obviously his outcry caught the attention of Phil and Techno who both inched closer to the hallway where the offending ‘ew’ lay.
Above him, Techno let out a small noise that sounded somewhat like disgust, which was, of course, understandable, but it made Tommy wish he could go jump off a taller rock in shame. He fought off the urge to close his eyes again, too anxious to see what the little family would do next- what course of action they’d take, how they’d react.
Phil was strange, though. He didn’t react like Tommy expected him to. Instead of seeming angry or grossed out, he simply stepped past the mess and into the restroom before returning with a couple of towels and a small box that appeared to be full of bandages and the like. He handed one towel and the box to Wilbur. “Go set him on the couch.” He commanded softly, and then… crouched down and began to clean up the mess with the other towel.
“Ew! You’re touching it!?” Wilbur grimaced.
“Well, we can’t exactly leave it lying on the floor, can we?” Phil asked- rhetorical, with a little smirk. “Besides, you boys act like you’ve never gotten sick yourselves before. When you do this enough times, you get used to it.”
“I don’t think I’d ever get used to that.” Wilbur mumbled and began to set the supplies down next to the couch. Techno huffed in agreement as he, too, moved to do as was told.
“You’d understand if you were a dad.” Phil said softly, but there was a little spark to it. Something that his words meant more than he was letting on.
Techno loosely wrapped the towel around Tommy’s wing before setting him on the couch. He obviously tried really hard not to hurt him, but it was a bit of a losing battle. Tommy’s wing flared up in pain again, and he sucked in a breath through teeth clenched so tight he thought he heard a crack. He squirmed, but dared not move.
“Hey, hey, it’s okay..!” Wilbur said. “Just stay still. Dad is gonna help.”
As if on cue it seemed as though Phil had finished disposing of the mess. He made his way over to Tommy, and despite the situation his movements were calm and elegant- though perhaps that was in attempt not to further scare him.
“Hey, mate. Let’s see what we’ve got here, hm?” He said and began gently moving around Tommy’s limbs inspecting for any damage aside from his wing. He found it. A gash on his foot slowly leaking blood through the bits of mud and gravel that had gotten into it. “What happened here?” He asked, though his words were soft and strangely hypnotic. It wasn’t necessary to answer, but Tommy kind of wanted to.
“Tripped on something… It had metal at the end. Sharp. Didn’t get a good look at it, though.” Tommy mumbled, and as he spoke it seemed as if his pain subsided ever so slightly. Perhaps it was the distraction of attempting to form coherent thoughts.
Techno stiffened beside him.
“I see. We’ll have to get that taken care of, then.” Phil said and washed out the wound with something that stung. It took everything within Tommy not to move, though an agonized chirp left his lips. Phil chirped back as he began to wrap Tommy’s foot in bandages. “Luckily, it’s not deep enough to need stitches.”
Wilbur watched with an unusual amount if worry written across his face. His brows were furrowed and he gnawed on his lips, pulling his wings close and picking at the feathers.
Tommy glanced around the room. He was confused by the sheer lack of scowls being directed at him in this moment. It made no sense. He’d made a mess, Phil had to clean it up, and now he was having medical supplies wasted on him?
“…You aren’t mad..?” Tommy mumbled after a moment.
“Stars, no.” Phil said with a frown and pulled back to look Tommy in the eyes. “Is that why you thought you had to leave?”
Tommy glanced away.
Phil “I could never be mad at you for something like that. And even if I had gotten mad, I wouldn’t have made you leave.”
Still, Tommy couldn’t find words. Phil made it sound so effortless. So easy to not be bothered by things that would’ve gotten Tommy in massive trouble back at Logstedshire. It didn’t make any sense for him to continuously be so overwhelmingly kind when Tommy had done nothing to deserve it- done nothing but make mistake after mistake here.
“…Why?” Tommy mumbled.
Phil stared at him, something knowing and sorrowful in his eyes. “Tommy, I’m sorry if I- or the boys, have done anything to make you think we’d be angry with you. I don’t want you to be so scared you think you’d have to leave.” He said gently.
Wilbur and Techno weren’t looking at him anymore, both seeming to have an uncomfortable conversation via silent glances at eachother.
“…Okay.” Tommy whispered. He wasn’t entirely sure he believed it, but he wasn’t sure he didn’t believe it, either.
Phil gave him a small nod before moving to look at his wing. He took a sharp breath and began poking around the feathers.
“Ow.” Tommy said through gritted teeth.
“I know it hurts really bad,” Phil said, blunt and apologetic, “and it’s about to hurt even worse.”
“What?” Tommy huffed.
SNAP.
Tommy screamed and thrashed, acutely aware of Phil holding him down. Though, he couldn’t really feel the hands on him anymore through the white-hot agony in his wing.
At the same time, he could sort of still hear. He heard the door slam. He heard Phil say, “Wilbur could you fetch me a thin but sturdy log?” He heard footsteps across the floor.
Feeling returned slowly to his wing, and by the time it had, Phil was almost finished wrapping it with bandages, the log having been wrapped in somewhere with it to be used as a splint. The pain had somewhat simmered to an aching and sharp discomfort, yet after everything he found himself drifting back into the darkness from whence he had arrived.
:۞:••:۞:••: ✦ :••:۞:••:۞:
Wilbur watched on shaky legs as his father finished wrapping Tommy’s wing to his torso to keep it still. He kept quiet as a new tunic was slipped over the boy’s head. He kept useful, handing over whatever was needed or fetching new water for the mess.
And when it was done, Phil sighed and rubbed the sweat off of his head with his forearm to avoid his dirty hands. Wilbur couldn’t find the same sense of relief. Techno had left some time ago and hadn’t returned.
“Dad… your hands.” Wilbur mumbled finally. It wasn’t nearly as loud as the fireplace or the birds outside and yet it felt like he’d suddenly been put on stage center.
“It’s no big deal.” Phil assured and wiped his hands on the edge of the towel Tommy was placed on. He rose to his feet from where he’d been kneeling next to the couch. “If I had spare emeralds for every time I had to fix a major injury on this couch… I’d have two.” He mumbled to himself. “Not much, but a little strange and ironic nonetheless, hm?”
“Will he be alright?” Wilbur asked.
Phil nodded. “I believe so. Or, more accurately, I have faith that he will.” He smiled to himself as he turned to face Wilbur, “You feel it too, don’t you?”
Wilbur subtly glanced towards the corner of the room where a shadow had been steadily pulsing.
“Death wouldn’t let someone go before their time.” Phil added, “She can keep him here, but we have to do the heavy lifting, so to speak, to make sure his wing heals correctly.”
Wilbur frowned. “I didn’t know he had wings.”
“He probably preferred it that way.” Phil hummed and pressed the back of his hand against Tommy’s forehead. “We need to bring that fever down...” He said and stood. “Wilbur, mate, why don’t you go find your brother while I clean up the rest of this mess?”
Wilbur hesitated, but nodded and moved towards the front door. He was careful to avoid the patches of water on the floorboards where all the snow they’d tracked in during their haste had melted.
It was midday now, so it was bound to be warmer than earlier, but he still stared longingly at the extra cloaks on the coat rack.
“I’ll be back soon.” Was all he said as he left the cabin and stepped back into the frigid air.
Before he even stepped off the porch, he took a moment to evaluate his surroundings. The porch was a mess of snow and ice, the ground right beside it was packed with so much snow that it wasn’t even muddy. Several sets of footprints surrounded the porch, including a set stained with little red droplets. He shivered and stepped off of the porch.
The water collection project had been left half-finished, Phil’s tools scattered on the roof and ground. Carl snorted and stomped from inside his stable, yet from where Wilbur stood he could see there was nothing amiss.
Crows cawed overhead, then two took off towards the west side of the field. Wilbur’s eyes drifted from the birds downwards, where a fresh set of footprints marred the snow.
So he set off, and pulled his coat tighter around himself. He really did wish he had taken a cloak to go over his clothes, though he figured this was more important and that Techno hadn’t gone far. It seems he’d been mistaken.
The wind howled more aggressively, and with it shook snowflakes from the tops of trees and sent them spiraling to dust Wilbur’s hair and feathers. His glasses were fogging up, and though it was the middle of the day the sky and grayed and darkened into a muddy twilight.
As he went further and further from the house, the footprints seemed to get more and more spaced out, like Techno had gone from walking to running. Wilbur anxiously scratched at his feathers again, a couple more falling out. Without much warning, a crow swooped from the sky, picked up the feather, and flew further ahead.
Wilbur blinked in confusion, but quickly ran to follow it. Each step was a struggle, but he found himself more motivated as small snowflakes began to drift down from the gray sky above. He flapped his wings to try and ease the burning in his calves, but it did little more than shake feathers loose.
He made it to the edge of the woods mere moments after the crow had, and he watched as it swooped low to perch on a fallen log and drop his feather in the lap of a familiar figure.
It was a bit of a gruesome sight, bloody bodies of rabbits and squirrels laying randomly across the snow. It was strange at all to see so many animals in one place during winter, yet even stranger the way they were arranged- as if there had been no time to escape at all and simply just… died. Some of the crows picked at them.
In the middle of it all, covered in blood and a light dusting of snow was Technoblade, sitting hunched over on the log and looking absolutely miserable.
Wilbur stared at him, making no move to approach.
Techno didn’t glance away from his feet, though he did pick up the feather and twirl it between his fingers. “…You really gotta stop doin’ that.”
Wilbur gulped, tense, but not nearly as afraid as he thought he’d be. “I was nervous.” He mumbled, “We all have our own coping mechanisms.”
“Yours is pullin’ out your feathers.” Techno huffed.
“And yours is…” Wilbur gestured vaguely at a patch of red snow. “this.”
“The voices wanted blood.” Techno defended, “Other than Tommy’s blood. They got upset when he- I got upset when I saw him like that.”
Wilbur sighed and glanced back towards the cabin, so small in the distance. He hesitantly moved forwards, avoiding the unclean patches of snow, and sat down on the log next to his brother.
“You like him.” Wilbur said.
“Tolerate, but yeah I guess he’s not so bad.”
“So easily, too.” Wilbur continued. “How did you deal with it back then? With… me?”
“Well, you were pretty… persistent.” Techno shrugged. “And annoyin’. But persuasive.”
“Those words are all much too big.” Wilbur scoffed.
Techno snorted. “Fine. I’ll dumb it down for you.” He said and twirled the feather in his hand again. “Neither of us liked the situation or eachother, but while my solution was to hide away, your solution was to seek me out. It was annoyin’, but you were endearin’ in your own ways. Once I noticed we were kinda in the same boat- you just had a different way of thinkin’- I stopped resentin’ you so much. It took time, but… we’re more similar than I thought at first.”
“Endearing…” Wilbur whispered.
“I’ll admit you had a way of wormin’ into my heart.” He mumbled.
“You have one of those?” Wilbur teased.
Technoblade shoved him.
“Alright alright! I just mean… well, I suppose you could say the same about Tommy. Endearing, right?” Wilbur huffed and drew his jacket closer. “I’m really trying, you know?”
“I know.” Technoblade said.
“And I’m just… really worried.” Wilbur continued.
“I know.” Techno repeated and placed a hand on his brother’s shoulder.
Wilbur buried his face in his hands, knocking his glasses askew. Their lenses quickly fogged from the heat radiating from his skin in contrast to the cold air around him.
“You aren’t alone.” Technoblade said, “Even if it seems easier for me, we’re both learnin’ to accept a new housemate. Together. That was the whole point of the promise back then, and it still stands now.”
Wilbur sighed, then roughly scrubbed his face before putting his glasses back on correctly. “We should go in. We’ve spent much too long out here- especially since dad sent me out to fetch you in the first place.” He said and stood, the warmth of his coat trailing behind him and leaving Technoblade. With a shudder, he slipped his arm back into his sleeve and turned to face the cabin.
He hesitated. There was no crunching of snow behind him to indicate that Technoblade had moved at all, and turning back to face him proved as such. His brother was still, just staring at him. Waiting.
Wilbur took a moment to ponder what he could be waiting for. Then, with shaking hands, he offered one. Techno immediately took it, despite pulling himself up on his own. He didn’t let go, though. He pulled Wilbur close into a quick hug, then hastily moved aside. “I’ve had quite enough emotion-talk and sappiness for now.” He grumbled and began walking back towards the cabin.
Wilbur blinked, a bit bewildered. He almost regretted he hadn’t reacted quick enough to return the hug, but shook his head. If Techno had wanted the hug returned, he would have allowed time for it. “What should we do about the… um… animals?” He asked as he scurried to catch up.
“Leave them.” Techno huffed. “I’m not one to waste, but I’d rather not… gather them right now. It’s cold, they’ll stay fresh. We can pick up what the crows leave us tomorrow.”
Wilbur nodded, then jogged the rest of the way to walk beside Techno. Slowly, he stretched his wing across behind Techno. They weren’t touching, but to Wilbur it acted as a small and silent ‘thank you’ for everything Techno had said and done. Even if it looked a bit silly. His small and vibrant wings- including their featherless patches- stretched to cover Techno's massive form and giant wings as well.
The wind only grew colder. The snow only fell faster.
Entering the cabin was like escaping the icy maw of a winter beast. It provided the safety of a warm hearth, from which the boys quickly warmed their numb hands.
They were both silent, not wanting to wake Tommy after such an ordeal. However, with such silence, it was easy to hear something large scrape across the boards of the porch outside. It immediately put them on edge, with Techno being the first to rise from his place on the floor. Wilbur soon followed, his grim curiosity getting the better of him.
With a glance to his brother, Techno very carefully grabbed the doorknob and yanked it open- only for a pickaxe and a single black feather to be on the steps in front of them. The pickaxe seemed old, and strangely rusty. Some sort of dark substance on it, as well as a bit of freshly dried blood. Wilbur cringed. “What is that?” He whispered.
Techno frowned. “…’S the pickaxe I dropped after I hit Quackity.” He said and picked it up, only to lean it against the outer wall of the cabin. “…And I think the ‘sharp thing’ Tommy tripped over.”
Wilbur stared at the feather left behind. “How did a crow pick that up?”
Techno shrugged. “Maybe there were two of them.”
It would definitely take more than two crows to lift that.
“Oh! You’re both back!” Phil said from behind them, startling Wilbur so bad he nearly tripped.
They both stepped back inside, Techno closing the door behind them. Phil regarded his sons with a smile, then a frown as he evaluated the state they’d returned in. “Techno, you should go wash up, mate.” He said softly.
“My fingers’ll turn into popsicles.” Techno grumbled, but made his way towards the sink anyway.
“Wilbur, why don’t you go change as well? All that snow on your clothes will make you colder.”
“Okay.” Wilbur mumbled and began his walk of shame back to his room.
“You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” Phil added quietly, “I’ll make you both some hot chocolate.”
And their father, as carefree as ever. Wilbur didn’t understand how he did it. How Phil could be so optimistic in the darkest or even strangest of times. Still, with Tommy having just been patched up from a broken wing and treated for fever, with Technoblade covered in filth and the remnant of his voices’ suggestions, and with Wilbur shivering in his damp clothes, Phil made them hot chocolate, of all things.
Wilbur supposed it was comforting, in a way. No problem was ever too large.
Techno and Wilbur shared a look with eachother in the hallway as they departed into separate rooms. Techno disappeared into the bathroom to wash himself off, Wilbur made his way into his own room.
The same cheerfully painted walls greeted him, and he tried extra careful not to step on any of the papers on his floor. The snow would melt off of his boots and ruin them. Once he made it to his wardrobe, he took off his boots, content to leave them there. Though, his feet were significantly colder in just his socks.
Upon opening the wardrobe, he paused to decide what he might wear. His old wardrobe had been replaced long ago once he’d grown. They were now all in boxes out in the shed, and he was left with a new set of seasonal clothing of mostly summery yellows and winter blues. Including the fuzzy pale-blue tunic he decided on, with equally light colored trousers.
He didn’t feel warm once he’d changed, rather just marginally less damp. Though, he supposed that was a good thing. So, in his new set of clothes, he hurried back out into the livingroom where he found Techno in his own new set of clothes and already sipping on a cup of hot chocolate.
“How did you get out here before me?” Wilbur asked as he sat next to Techno. They were both in front of the fire again.
“You take forever to change clothes.” Techno said.
“No I don’t.” Wilbur argued as he was handed his own mug of hot chocolate courtesy of his father. He wanted to think of a quip to rival his brother’s, but came up short and the conversation fizzled out into silence only broken by the sound of Phil settling into his own chair on the other side of them.
Phil quietly picked up his sewing- though Wilbur honestly had no idea what the man could possibly be making next- and worked away with a content look on his face.
Wilbur sipped his hot chocolate and observed his father for a moment. Then turned to observe Tommy.
The boy hadn’t moved an inch from the couch, though he was covered in a fresh blanket and a small linen cloth had been placed over his forehead where small chunks of ice had been placed atop. He looked the most peaceful Wilbur had ever seen him, despite his injuries. Though, that was a bit of a low bar considering the only times they’d seen eachother they’d either been awkward, hostile, or sleep-deprived.
“He’ll be alright, mate.” Phil said, and when Wilbur turned to face his father he noticed that Techno had also been staring at the sleeping child with a troubled look on his face.
“I know.” Techno mumbled.
“You did well.” Phil continued.
Technoblade’s gaze hardened, something somber in the crease of his brows. “…I know.”
“You too, Wil. Thank you for helping me out while I patched him up.”
Wilbur glanced between the other members of the household briefly. “Mhm.” He settled on.
Phil stared at them both for a moment longer before a soft, pitying smile graced his lips. “He’ll be alright.” He repeated quietly.
Wilbur knew. He could see Tommy, wrapped in fresh bandages. He could see the way his chest rose and fell with every breath. He could see the rosy pink on his cheeks. He could feel Her presence like a blanket.
And yet, he couldn’t help but worry. He supposed that was why his father kept trying to reassure him. He shuddered, and another feather fell to the floor.
Though it was still only just past midday, the sky outside had grown ever darker. Wilbur sighed and set down his empty cup, then leaned against his brother. Techno snorted in response, but didn’t shove him away, so he’d count it as a win.
With the warmth of the fire and the comfort of his family around him- plus the deranged child that lived here too- Wilbur found it harder and harder to keep his eyes open.
Until he just couldn’t anymore, and everything went dark and quiet.
…
Until it wasn’t.
:۞:••: ✦ :••:۞:
There was a howling. A shrieking, even, from an unknown beast. And yet, Wilbur couldn’t find it within himself to be frightened. He’d heard it before.
Every time he fell asleep.
He sighed as he opened his eyes, preparing himself for the monotony of the barren passages. And behold, just as he suspected, he’d come to awareness leaning against a cold brick pillar. He picked himself up from the floor and surveyed the cold brick room before him.
It was the same as always. Same staircases and hallways that lead nowhere, same empty room with scattered pillars, trash, and benches to decorate the concrete floor.
Same tunnel he never dared to enter, for it seemed both endless and the only true way of escaping, though it was also where the noises came from. It was where the strange building-beast passed by, never stopping.
Though, there was something of interest. Something that showed up from time to time. Or rather, someone. He felt a prickling on his neck and turned his head to catch sight of Her shadows watching him.
He approached.
“You’re back.” He said.
He was met with silence.
This was usual.
“I’m assuming you watched everything go down earlier.” He continued. “It’s a bit of a mess right now. Everyone is upset Tommy got hurt. Though, dad says you’re working to make sure he stays alive.”
Wilbur paused, though he did not expect an answer. And he did not get one. So, instead, he sat down and watched the shadows pulse as if they were cast by flickering light. And yet, there was no light in here. Only a strange cast blue-ness that was just bright enough to allow the faintest of vision.
“Dad says you make sure nothing in the house can die. Though, it’s a bit funny to me, considering two of us are already dead. Or, were.” Wilbur rambled, “But why just us two? What makes me and Phil so different from Techno or Tommy?” He asked. “Or, is that just it? Have the both of them already died and been revived at some point that we’re just not privy to?”
…
“Maybe we’re all undead souls. Maybe that’s why you favor us.”
The shadow darkened.
“I’ve been meaning to ask…” Wilbur said, “If you are so powerful, twisting the fates and deciding who gets to die and who gets a second chance, why did you let Tommy get hurt in the first place?”
The shadow loomed, and the room was bathed in its usual silence aside from the wailing of the beast. A moment ticked by. Then another, and another. Wilbur didn’t expect a response. Really, he didn’t. And yet, he felt a bit disappointed at Her lack of action. He was just about to give up and change the topic.
“…Some things… are beyond my control.” The voice of a woman echoed through the shadow and bounced around in Wilbur’s skull. For a moment, he was frightened. This was something new, in his unchanging Limbo. This was something ancient and powerful. This was the first time he truly heard Her, not just whispers in the wind or vague words pieced together by sounds around him.
This was coming straight from Her Realm.
It almost made him want to touch those shadows, just to see if he could reach it. The land beyond Limbo.
He shook the thoughts from his head and allowed excitement to replace his worries. She was talking to him! Actually, really, talking! “Some things? But not everything. How can it be so?”
There was another pause, but this time Wilbur allowed himself to be expectant. He allowed himself to lean closer, as if he could hear the words through the shadows before She even spoke them.
“Fate…lies in the Stars… not my Realm, not my jurisdiction… Some are Fated to die…But I ultimately decide…This… is how I change Fate.”
Wilbur hesitated as he let Her words sink in. “Then, was Tommy Fated to die?”
“…I brought him here… brought him… to you… He is safe now… Though my Chosen must be few and far between… The Stars do not appreciate my bending of Fate… and my Blessings can only go so far.”
Wilbur furrowed his brow. “You sound,” He paused to consider his words, “So much different than I imagined.”
“Trust me… I would speak with more zest if allowed… my talking speed would be much clearer… and my words more cohesive… if we were face to face… Pardon…but my attention is rather… split.”
“Split?”
“…I am here with you, in Limbo… I am here with you, in the cabin…With Tommy, with Techno, with Phil…I am in the Void…I am in the Overworld…I am reaping the souls of the animals unfortunately unprepared for this winter…I am reaping the souls of the Fated and damned alike…I am in the Kingdoms and villages…for you see, my son, I am everywhere.”
Wilbur stared at the shadow of his mother, awed by the wisdom shared. “It- it sounds like you have a lot of responsibilities.” He said. “If you’d like, I can go back to rambling aimlessly instead of asking so many questions, so that you can continue focusing on the things that actually matter.”
A pause. “…You matter…”
Wilbur smiled. He didn’t feel frightened at all any more. Would he ever again, knowing the true meaning of her presence by his side? It was beginning to make sense why Phil never seemed to be bothered by anything, knowing Her and Her power so intimately.
“Well, the other day, me and Techno found the strangest bug. I don’t know if you were watching me then because I didn’t sense you, but I suspect you linger even when I don’t know you’re there. Anyway, this bug was super huge,” Wilbur rambled.
And he continued to ramble.
He rambled, knowing She was listening. And he enjoyed the company. And it wasn’t so quiet or boring or lonely.
For once, Limbo felt full.