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“Oh, have you seen that gentleman with the pink hair?”
“Oh, yes, isn’t he so charming? I wonder if he has a girlfriend…?”
“Why? Interested, Liv?”
“Whaaaaaaaaaat? No, no way, I already have my dear weaponsmith.”
“Well, I am interested.”
“Elva! Don’t you already have your eyes on that wandering trader?”
“Hah! If I wait for that one to wander back in my life, I’ll grow so old I might as well be a zombie. Now, that pinkett with the fancy clothes and cape? That’s a catch!”
That conversation would be ten times better if it was to happen as far away from Technoblade as possible. It’s not that he isn’t flattered that they think he’s so good-looking, since it means his potion is working as it should, but he’d very much enjoy his day more without people falling for him thanks to his fake looks.
If only people knew what beast he hides.
He can feel a headache incoming. Why is he in the middle of a village anyways?
Oh, right, he needs some ingredients for his potion, and the injury caused by his—not Techno’s, but his— little “adventures” makes it too bothersome for him to go get them himself. Luckily, this village is on the way to his house, and here he might be able to rest for a bit, until his injury stops making him see stars every time he moves.
Maybe that will teach him to take better care of Techno’s body when he’s the one behind the wheel.
And so, what’s left is to people-watch. There is only so much time one can spend in an old hotel room, and he has already updated his trusty journal with the results of his travels and his travels. So he sits on a wooden bench by the fountain in the middle of the village, boredly watching as people play their roles around him as the sun burns the day away.
The girls gossiping about him while literally sitting a bench away from him? He’ll bet one emerald they envy the other, one a free spirit who can’t get a relationship, the other a compromised soul who craves for spontaneity. The mentioned weaponsmith? Maybe faithful in the eyes of the onlooker, but his eyes are very much glued in the daughter of the potato farmer. The daughter who clearly wants more than potatoes and harsh sun, but smiles happily to her father’s incessant blabbering about keeping the family’s business going. The farm is obviously blind to his daughter’s feelings, yet prouds himself in being the one to raise her to a great adult, boasting to a fisherman that nods despite having tuned the farmer out minutes ago.
Wherever one looks, there is a facade. A mask to upkeep. A role to play.
It’s tiring to just look at it all.
That’s why Techno likes the Iron Golems. They don’t have a facade to maintain. They walk around, they offer flowers to children and they attack violent beings. Couldn’t be clearer their feelings: Patrols are cool, children are chill, don’t fuck with me.
“Have you heard about L’manburg?” Elva’s—it needs to be said, Tecnho hates being able to remember names so fast. Curse him and his stupid good memory— voice suddenly gets the man’s attention.
“L’manburg? Isn’t that the name of that village quite far away? The one that wanted to be called a ‘nation’ or something?”
“Yes, that’s the one! I heard that one of the founders of their ‘nation’ committed a terrible crime and it’s now a fugitive!”
“Oh, Lord, how terrible! What if he comes here?”
“What if he’s handsome?”
“Elva!”
L’manburg, huh? Techno remembers faintly the news, some years ago, of a village that wanted more than to just exist. He admires their determination, and their hunger for more in a world that had already settled them within the stage. But wanting more usually brings consequences the roles and masks can’t protect them from, and it seems they have found that out in the hard way.
“I’m almost scared of asking you of the mysterious Green Blur now.”
“I bet he’s good looking.” Liv must have deadpanned for Elva’s voice to get a defensive tone. “What? He fights monsters for a living, he definitely has muscle!”
“Some say it might be Sonho.”
“Sonho… the blind man?”
“Well, they did arrive more or less at the same time.”
“There’s no way it’s Sonho! He’s blind! One skeleton and he’d be a goner.”
The “Green Blur” is the village’s newly acquired hero. He had appeared a few days before Techno, aiding the Iron Golems in the fight against the monsters that come from the woods with an axe and a crossbow. Techno had been able to catch one of the man’s battles from the window of the hotel, and the graceful ferocity of the lithe body mowing through mobs had left him breathless.
Technoblade rarely gets interested in people, but if the chance presents itself, he’ll try to interact with the mysterious man, if so to ask him if he has any interesting tales to tell, or to challenge him to an amicable duel.
A weak hit on his leg takes him away from his musing. He blinks owlishly at the offending piece of wood still touching his leg, until his mind registers just whose piece of wood it is. Raising his head, he’s met with messy blond hair cascading down like a mane over shoulders covered in dark yellow fabric and tanned cheeks covered in freckles.
And closed eyes.
“Sonho.”
“Oh, hello! Do I know you?” The man asks with a bright smile that sends shivers down Technoblade’s back.
“No, sorry, I’ve heard of you around the village… I’m Technoblade.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, mr. Blade.” Sonho extends his hand, and Techno grabs it without thinking twice, which is not at all usual for him and he might ponder later if it was his influence.
Because right now he has enough to think about as something akin to electricity runs down his hand, starting from where his skin touches the other man’s. A gasp punches its way out of his lungs, and Sonho lets out a surprised sound of his own. In fact, the man is so startled, he jolts away, not enough to separate their hands, and opens his eyes.
If Techno was feeling breathless before, now he has absolutely no lungs.
The blond’s eyes are of a beautiful green… Actually, beautiful hues of green, starting with a darker, bluish green much like the ocean and getting lighter until it’s a very bright shade of lime near the slitted pupils.
They look like Eyes of Ender.
They might be the most beautiful Techno has ever seen.
They are not the eyes of a blind man.
“Techno is fine.” Ha answers, voice embarrassingly shaky, but he doesn’t really have the mind to worry about it now. Right now, he just wants to bask in this odd feeling coming from the depths of his being. “Pleasure is all mine.”
In a burst of something he can’t really name, Techno brings the other man’s hand, calloused and cold, to his lips, pressing a kiss to the back of it. It’s a tender gesture, very uncharacteristic of him from all angles, and he relishes in the knowledge he isn’t the only one overwhelmed by the exchange, seeing as Sonho’s hand trembles and his breath hitches. Techno risks looking at the other, quickly getting lost in the pools of green.
“Sonho!” One word from the farmer’s daughter and the moment is broken.
The blond closes his eyes again, taking his hand away from Techno’s gentle grip quickly. Before he can leave completely, he turns his head as if looking at the pinkett over his shoulder, and Techno is convinced he is actually being seen.
Then he walks away, hitting his cane around in a perfect facade of a blind man.
Techno wants to know so badly what makes a man with those eyes hide behind that mask.
And Technoblade can be quite stubborn when he wants.