Chapter Text
Techno climbs up the ladder, delicately holding a plate with a mound of scrambled eggs on it. He sets it on ranboos lap and holds out a fork.
“Thanks,” Ranboo grumbles.
Techno stands awkwardly in the corner.
Ranboo still feels hostile around him, the massive, terrifying technoblade that ruined lmanburg. The one driving quackity to near insanity, the one whose name sends tubbo into a catatonic state, the one who makes fundy’s fur bristle. These combined reactions ingrained in him a deep sense of fear and distrust of the name and appearance of technoblade.
Technoblade of rumor is very different than technoblade in the flesh. More nervous. More timid. Less “killer terrorist” and more “first day of school in a new city”.
“What,” he says through a mouthful of eggs, more nervous than annoyed.
“Y-“ techno huffs, not actually saying anything. “I’ll be downstairs if you need me.”
“Alright.”
Techno opens his mouth, closes it, huffs again, and goes down the ladder.
Ranboo eats quietly, hearing two voices converse below him.
Phil comes up a few minutes later.
“Hey,”
“Hiya, mate.”
“Techno is really weird,”
“He’s just nervous around you, don’t worry.”
Ranboo is taken aback. Nervous? Technoblade? Because of him? “What?”
“Don’t tell him I told you this, but he says you remind him of a younger version of himself.”
Ranboos face scrunches up. “What?” He intones incredulously.
Phil laughs. “Yeah, and I kind of see it, too. Except you’re turning a dark purple instead of hot pink.”
“You knew him as a kid?”
“Yeah, basically raised him along with Wilbur.”
“Oh,”
“They helped raise Tommy when he came along. Then they all left, and now I’m here.”
Tommy? Phil and techno raised tommy? He knew Tommy and Wilbur had a brother thing, but he never knew the familial connection between Tommy and techno.
“You should talk to him.”
“What?” Ranboo scoffs.
“He can really help you.”
“Uh,” Ranboo looks around. “How?”
Phil raises an eyebrow.
“I- I need to get back home.”
“Just talk to him.”
Ranboo doesn’t say anything.
“He can escort you back.”
Ranboos face contorts.
“He’ll be fine.”
“Not what I was worried about.”
“He’ll take invisibility potions.”
Ranboo sits back, rolling his head against the bed frame. “I’m so dead for this.”
“You’ve got two lives left after that, then.”
Ranboo huffs out a laugh. “I’d rather not die at all,”
“You won’t, not with techno by your side.”
Ranboo looks down at his hands.
“I’ll ready your clothes and the horses.” Phil says with finality, sliding down the ladder.
Voices clash below him, ending with a resigned huff.
Ranboo swings his legs out of bed.
“Ranboo,” a gruff voice, technoblades, calls from below him. “Ready to go?”
He takes the ladder slowly. Techno stands awkwardly by the door.
Phil holds out a pile of clothes to ranboo. He takes them and goes back up the ladder.
More voices below him. He can make out a few words as he slips on his pants.
“You’re losing your grip, old man. They’ll kill me or him, or maybe even both, if anyone sees us.”
He buttons his shirt slowly.
“They won’t, mate. It’ll be fine. You’ll be alright. Take invis pots and you’ll be alright.”
His hands tremble as he fastens the top button.
“I don’t want him to be executed, Phil. You know what they do with traitors.”
“He’s not a traitor.”
“Try telling that to quackity, to tubbo.”
Tubbo? He wouldn’t- no. He wouldn’t. He would believe him. Right? He has to believe that tubbo would believe him. He trusts tommy and he trusts tubbo, and they trust each other. That has to mean something. Tubbo wouldn’t do that to him.
He grips his tie, white knuckled, nails digging into his palm. He bleeds red. It’s still red.
“They won’t find you.”
“Phil, the voices-“
“Tell them to fuck off.”
Ranboo ties his shoes carefully, fastening on his weapons and armor over the top.
“Invis pots, your sword, strength pots if that’ll make you feel better. If shit goes south, bring the kid back here. He trusts me. He’ll be safe here.”
A cloak sits at the bottom of the pile of things. Something that doesn’t belong to him. Light and dark blue, white fur collar, red and gold shining in small spots. A symbol is etched in white on the back, one he doesn’t recognize. A circle, concentric lines crossing it. It isn’t his. He drapes it over his arm and ventures down the ladder, sheathed weapons clanking at his side.
“Ready?”
He nods silently.
“Put on the cloak,” Phil smiles. “It’s freezing out there.”
Ranboo looks between them and throws the cloak over his shoulders, clasping the chain over his chest. Technos eyes water.
“You did that on purpose,” he whispers to Phil.
“Spitting image,” Phil elbows him playfully.
Ranboo doesn’t understand, and tilts his head towards the door.
“Right,” techno says gruffly, picking up a bag and opening the door. “You first,” he offers.
Ranboo slides out and hurries down the steps to the stables.
“You can ride carl, at least until we get close to lmanburg.” Techno grumbles. “Need to keep your strength. Still healin’ and everythin’.”
Ranboo nods.
He hops on carl’s back. Carl doesn’t say anything to him. He is a horse.
Techno guides them out of the stable, and they walk at a leisurely pace through the tundra.
The air is dry and cold, and it bites at ranboo’s cheeks and ears. He pulls the cloak closer to him. It’s very awkward.
“Yknow,” Techno begins. “That cloak used to be mine.”
Ranboo kinda figured. “Really?”
“Yeah.” Techno scratches his neck and looks off to the side. “Long time ago.”
Techno couldn’t be more than mid-twenties, surely. “How long?” Ranboo tries.
“Oh, centuries at this point.”
“You- you’re joking, right? I’m bad at reading if people are joking.”
Techno laughs. “I’m not joking.” He hangs his head, and watches his feet shuffle through the snow. “One thing they don’t tell you about the curse is how it changes your lifespan.”
Ranboo falls quiet.
“But maybe getting on the good side of death may also have helped.”
Ranboo blinks.
“I think she’d like you,” Techno smiles up at him. “I can already hear the nicknames she’d give you.”
Ranboo blinks again. He decides not to ask.
The wind is the only sound. Carl’s hooves crunch the snow, and ranboo squints as the gusts blow snow into his eyes.
“So,” Techno starts again.
Jesus, this man is awkward. Ranboo thinks, hunkering down on the horse.
“So,” Ranboo repeats quietly.
Techno clears his throat awkwardly.
“W-” He starts, but swallows his words and rethinks his sentence. “Does… does tommy say anything about me?”
Ranboo looks down at him, small glasses glinting in the grayed sunlight, pink fur and ivory tusks still as bright as ever.
“Uh,”
“Does he… ever talk about me at all?” His voice goes timid, hesitant, quiet.
“Sometimes.” Ranboo says, unsure if it’s the truth or not. He can’t remember.
“What does he say?”
“I-” Ranboo hesitates. “I don’t remember. I’m sorry.”
Techno sighs, head bobbing to the ground. “S’alright. Kind of a dumb question. Sorry.”
“It’s alright,” Ranboo mumbles, fiddling with the seam of the cloak.
“How is he?”
“Tommy?”
“Yeah,” Techno grumbles.
“He’s good, he’s good.” Ranboo nods. “Doing tommy things.”
“Makes sense,” Techno laughs.
Ranboo huffs a laugh too. Plumes of smoke rise into the sky, two strange half-beings walking through a blank canvas tundra.
“I want to help you, Ranboo.” Techno says his name strangely. “I don’t want it to get this bad,” He points to himself. “I don’t think i could stand it if you lost that part of yourself like I did.”
Ranboo is strangely moved by it. “Uh,” He fiddles with the hairs on the back of his neck. “Thanks.”
“Sure,” Techno mumbles.
“Wh- when did it happen for you?” Ranboo blurts, hiding his hands.
A pause. The silence is only broken by the crunch of snow.
“Prob’ly fifteen,” Techno sighs. “That’s when i first got cursed, anyway.”
“Oh,”
“Yeah. ignored it until it was too late. Don’t be like me.”
“Right.”
“God, I wish i had regular legs sometimes.”
Ranboo glances down at Techno’s pig haunches.
“Hooves are a pain.”
“Ah.”
“At least endermen don’t have hooves. They have paws.”
Ranboo rubs the palm of his hand, feeling the spots on the heel of it that have gone tough to the touch. “Yeah.”
“You can teleport!” Techno changes the subject.
“Yep,” Ranboo laughs, “Yeah. I’m not very… in control of it, though.”
“Can you do it on command yet?”
“Kinda,” Ranboo smiles, lips spreading wider than normal. “Hold on.”
He closes his eyes and focuses, feeling the world fall out from under him. He tumbles through the black void, landing in the snow a dozen or so blocks from his spot on the horse. He wobbles before standing upright.
Techno claps. Ranboo takes a bow.
He walks back over.
“Good idea, don’t want to uh…” techno grumbles. “Overexert yourself.”
Ranboo nods.
The snow gives way to arid plains, which grow lush and green after more walking.
“Why are we even in the overworld?” Ranboo asks after a while, cloak tucked under his arm as they strut close to the ocean.
“Uhhh… secrecy. Cant have ya knowin’ where I live or whatever.”
“Why didn’t you blindfold me, then?”
Techno pauses, voice popping in his throat as he tries to come up with an answer. “Okay, alright. It’s not for secrecy. Phil just wanted us to have a talk. A heart to heart or whatever. Senile old man,” he huffs.
“Oh,”
The wooden planks of the prime path become visible over the crest of the hill. Techno hurriedly takes off his armor and downs an invisibility potion.
“I can just… go from here.” Ranboo pulls out his mask and glasses, slipping them on over his face.
“Nah.” Techno says. “Take these.”
A pair of fingerless gloves appear out of thin air.
Ranboo looks down at his hands, fingers morphing from slender and square to sharp, deadly talons.
“It’ll make it less noticeable. Trust me.” The gloves shake in the air.
Ranboo takes them and slips them on. They don’t fit quite right, but they make him feel safer. “Thanks.”
“No problem, just doin’ my part, helpin’ the needy,”
techno makes poor excuses, ranboo has noticed.
Ranboo waves techno off at the front door of his house, and techno rides off on Carl. Or at least Ranboo assumes that’s what he does, because he sees Carl sprint off into the sunset, his reins floating in the air.
Ranboo sighs and locks his door behind him, setting his bags and supplies down on his kitchen table.
He flips open the flap on his messenger bag, and something shines at the bottom in the candlelight.
He fishes around for a bit, before pulling out an emerald on a small gold chain. A hook sits at the top.
“An earring?” He exclaims quietly to himself, turning it in the light. It shines brightly.
He sets it on his bedside table, and busies himself with work around his house.
His mind never leaves the way it shines in the light.