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The lava lakes below boiled the air around them, creating upward drafts that were caught in Philza’s wings like zealous sea winds getting caught in boat sails. The rolling heat buffeted his face as he shot upwards with a small whoop of excitement (flying the thermals never got old), and he leveled off only when he was in danger of rocketing into the Nether roof. He let himself glide across the atmosphere thick with smoke and fire, breathing fine through the specially made scarf pulled up over his nose. Once he was stabilized in flight, he put his attention towards searching for ghasts, ears open and eyes scouring the netherrack for anything that moved. He knew he would have better luck if he went to the soul sand valley by the far Nether fortress, but he would rather not fly all the way out there, preferring to catch a stray ghast roaming the wastes. The terrain got a little tricky to navigate on the way there, anyway.
A trill in his ear pulled his focus away. He didn’t need to look at his communicator to know who had messaged him or what it could be about. He pressed a button on his device and heard the brief spike of static in his earpiece as it struggled to reconnect to the call - the signal out in the Nether always left much to be desired. Eventually, the static cleared enough to speak. “‘Ey mate.”
“Hullo,” rumbled Techno, voice somehow even deeper than usual on the other end of the line. “How’re ya doin’ out there? Find whatcha need?”
“Just about,” Philza answered him. Just to double check - and because being cursed with ‘hardcore’ for decades made him reasonably paranoid - he pressed the button on his wristlet to have a look at his inventory. “I’ve got two stacks of blaze rods and enough magma cream to last us to the next century. I’m just looking for a ghast to top off our stash of ghast tears back home.” He closed up the menu and moved his eyes to his surroundings again, flapping once to give himself a little more altitude. “How about you? How did the blast mining go?”
“Oh, it went great, Phil. I mean, I almost blew myself up about half a dozen times, but other than that, great.”
Philza winced at the thought. “Ooo, shit, you alright?”
“Yup, totally fine. Had to g’ap once ‘cause I ran out of fire res pots and was dumb enough to go trippin’ through a fire, but the regen took care of the burns. Plus, I got a pretty decent amount of debris, so I should be able to finish my set of back-up armor. I’m on my way to the surface now, prolly be at the portal in twenty. Where ya at?”
Philza glanced around for a landmark. “I’m coming up on the major basalt delta.”
“You’re that far out?”
“Yeah. I’ve been looking for a ghast for fucking ages with no luck.”
“Why don’tcha go to the soul sand valley?”
“Too far.”
“If you’re out at the major delta, you’re practically there.”
“No way, the soul sand valley’s not for another eight hundred meters.”
“You can fly, Phil, it’ll take you, what, a minute? Two minutes at most.”
Philza ducked under a netherrack arch and swerved to avoid a low-hanging stalactite. “The terrain gets a little dodgy on the way there.”
“Like that’s ever been a problem for you.”
“Rather not risk a collision if I can help it.”
“Philza Minecraft, I have seen you fly through the densest darkwood forests like the trees aren’t even there. I think you can handle a couple’a rocks.”
Philza chuckled at that, tilting his head to the side consideringly. “Alright, but if I crash, you’re repairing my armor.”
“Mm, sure thing, Phil.”
Philza said his goodbyes and disconnected from the call, telling Techno that he needed to be able to listen for ghasts. With the background static of the earpiece gone, he put his concentration on navigating the biomes, taking a brief shortcut over the major basalt delta that, while risky, cut his travel time down. It was true that it wasn’t likely that he would suffer a collision, but weaving through the stone spires could be a pain and he much preferred to coast over the thermals of the lava lakes. His back was starting to get sore from all of the flying he’d done that day. Hunting magma cubes was surprisingly taxing.
He had to admit, though, Techno was right in saying that flying all the way out to the soul sand valley would be worth it. There were almost too many ghasts there, and he had a couple close calls with the aerial creatures’ fire balls. There was also the issue of white-boned skeletons trying their damndest to shoot him down, which was - admittedly - more of a nuisance than anything with his armor, but it was a nuisance all the same. Regardless, he wrangled himself a ghast, collected a few vial-fulls of tears, and took off for home, this time going the long way around.
About half an hour after he left the call with Techno, Philza arrived at the portal. He went in for a smooth landing, touching down and jogging a few steps along the cobble paths to carry out his momentum. With a small sigh of relief, he let his wings fold up and hang loosely from his back. He didn’t bother to try to keep them from sweeping the ash-coated floor, as he was certain that his feathers were just laden with soot by now - one of the downsides to flying through the Nether. He would have to clean them once they got home.
Philza turned to find Techno leaning against the portal frame, arms folded laxly across his chest and head tilted to the side with his usual air of nonchalance. He smirked when Philza met his eye, intoning, “Oh, well would ya’ look at that, his armor’s fiiiine.”
“Couldn’t say the same about you, mate,” Philza remarked, giving Techno’s battered gear a once-over. “Guess you weren’t joking when you said you nearly blew yourself up a few times, huh?”
Techno raised an eyebrow, unamused. “Do I look like a jokin’ man, Phil?”
Philza just chuckled at his sourfaced friend. The prospect of finally being able to finish that set of back-up armor (after he gave his original back-up to Tommy) clearly wasn’t enough to improve Techno’s mood. Philza could see why, though. The netherite gear had definitely taken the brunt of the blasts, given the countless cracks and dents in the plating. Cleaning that up would take quite a number of enchantment bottles, and Philza wasn’t sure they had enough of those back at the house. They’d most likely have to make a trip out to the nearby village.
“Suppose not,” Philza replied with what he knew was an irritatingly cheery smile. “You look like you could use a laugh, though.”
Techno huffed, pig-like snout wrinkling briefly with the sound, and admitted, “I’m just tired, Phil.”
“Oh yeah?” he prompted, stepping up to the portal. The distortion of space around the otherworldly gate tugged at his hair and feathers, as if egging him to step through. He was compelled to follow it, get out of this hellish dimension of fire and brimstone and breathe in some fresh air.
Techno seemed to feel the same way and came to stand at Philza’s side, facing the swirling, glassy surface of the portal. “Yeah. Spent this mornin’ with Ranboo lookin’ for a mansion, remember?”
Philza hummed, nodding. “Right, I remember you telling me about that. How’d that go?”
“Ah, it went well, all things considered.” Techno jerked his head towards the portal with a question in his eyes, and Philza nodded. With that, Techno stepped into the gateway, and Philza was quick to follow. The reality around them began to swirl -
“How many - ”
- and they were whisked away to the Overworld, where they were hit with a rush of frigid air.
“ - totems did you find?”
“We got two apiece,” Techno replied, stepping out of the frame alongside Philza. The piglin hybrid let out a shudder at the arctic chill. They hadn’t brought their heavy winter cloaks with them since they had anticipated spending a few hours in the Nether. It just made for a rather brisk walk back to the house. In an attempt to combat some of the penetrating, gelid winds, Philza extended a soot-covered wing over Techno’s shoulders and wrapped his other around his own side. Together, they started across the frozen shores to the usual trail they took home, snow crunching under their ashen greaves.
“ Only two apiece?” Philza echoed, confused.
“Whaddya mean ‘only two apiece’?” Techno asked in reply, shooting Philza a funny look. “That’s, like, four evokers we had to kill. Plus, it’s a pretty decent number for a single mansion, Phil.”
“Oh, no, four is great, but when I went with Ranboo, Eret, and Tubbo a few days ago, we walked away with seven totems total.”
Techno blinked. “ Heh ?”
Philza chuckled at his bafflement, knocking shoulders with him. “I know. Fucking busted luck, right?”
“I didn’t even know there could be that many evokers in a mansion! How big was that place? Did it cover the entire forest or somethin’?!”
“No no, it was normal size,” Philza assured with a laugh. “Just got lucky, I suppose.”
“Yeesh, I’ll say . Remind me to take ya with me next time I decide to go mansion huntin’. I could use some of your luck.”
“Yeah, you should’ve invited me, mate,” Philza berated playfully. “I wouldn’t mind heading out to another mansion. It’s always nice to go out on adventures with you. Ranboo’s pretty fun too. Oh, that reminds me - how have you two been getting along? I know you didn’t really get much of a chance to talk to him when he first got here.”
“Ranboo’s...fine,” Techno replied, eyes darting off to the side. “Not gonna lie, Phil, he’s kinda weird, but he’s okay, I guess.”
Well, that wasn’t quite what Philza was expecting. Techno had been understandably wary of anyone who stepped foot onto their land ever since the end of the Manburg vs. Pogtopia war left him feeling betrayed and used, and that wariness had only been exacerbated when Tommy abruptly left him to side with Tubbo and the rest of L’Manburg. It had taken a bit of persuasion to get Techno to agree to Philza offering Ranboo asylum on their land, and even then, Techno had made no promises that he would like the young hybrid or let him stay for long. The fact that Techno now thought well of Ranboo certainly said something.
Philza knew it would be a while before Techno could consider Ranboo a friend (or, at least, admit to himself that he liked him), so “he’s okay, I guess” was well enough.
“He’s a good kid,” Philza agreed with a nod. “Yeah, a little odd, but he’s nice. Did you see his shack?”
“I did, but what I don’t get is how he doesn’t freeze. It’s cold , Phil.” As if to prove his point, a particularly chilling wind rolled in from over the frozen wastes to the north, and Philza had to wrap his wings a little tighter around them to fight it off.
Philza adjusted his scarf over his nose, soaking in whatever remained of the scorching Nether heat. “He’s an enderman hybrid, Techno, he’s not quite as affected by the cold as you and me.”
“Yeah, well, if he’s a hybrid like the two of us, then that means he’s part human, and that means there’s gotta be part of him that’s gettin’ hypothermia out here.”
“He might not be done with construction.”
Techno tilted his head to the side, thinking. “Yeah, that could be it. I think he mentioned somethin’ ‘bout workin’ on his house or bringin’ his pets over from wherever he’s stashed ‘em.”
In the brief pause that followed, Philza decided to go out on a limb about something he’d been thinking about for a couple days now: “...Maybe we could invite him over to dinner tonight.” He looked over to Techno’s face to get a reading on his friend’s reaction, but there was a surprising lack of response. He continued carefully, “I know you’re still adjusting to Ranboo being here, and I know you don’t fully trust him yet; I just thought it would be nice. I bet you’ve gotten to know him a bit since you went on that mansion hunt earlier, but maybe something a little...calmer could give you a chance to get to know him better? Just a thought, though,” he added hurriedly, growing a little more concerned with the lack of reply. “You don’t have to agree. It’s your house, so you don’t have to invite him over if you don’t want to… So?”
Several seconds passed without a sound out of Techno; Philza wondered if he’d angered him somehow. By the pinch of his brow, Philza thought that he might’ve been mulling it over, so he was happy to stay quiet and let his friend think.
His response, however, was not what Philza was expecting. A moment later, Techno abruptly stopped midstep, ears twitching and eyes narrowed with what could only be described as suspicion. Philza halted immediately, put a hand to the sword on his hip, and flared his wings. Years of fighting alongside Techno had taught Philza everything he needed to know about his friend’s body language, so he found little necessity in Techno’s following mutter of, “...Somethin’s not right.”
“What is it?” Philza murmured in reply. While he could read Techno like a book, he didn’t know exactly what the perceived threat was . His sharp eyes scanned the snowfields for any signs of danger, but he found none, and no cry of monsters was carried to his ears by the winds. There shouldn’t have been any monsters out and about, anyway. Afternoon might’ve been giving way to evening, but it wasn’t quite dark enough for the creatures of the night to come out - the sun still basked the snow in bleached golden light.
Once more, Techno did not respond right away, eyes still narrowed. With each passing second, his expression became more pinched, suspicion rapidly turning to discomfort and confusion as he pressed the heel of his hand to the side of his head and groaned, “ Chat, ya gotta stop - ya know I can’t understand when you’re all screamin’ at me. ”
“Chat?” Philza repeated, eyebrows creeping up. The voices in Techno’s head - or ‘Chat’, as his friend liked to call them - had given him much suffering over the course of his life, fueling his bloodlust and propelling him into motion even when he was in dire need of rest. But, on rare occasions, they proved to be helpful. Chat had the uncanny ability to know things that Techno himself wasn’t aware of, usually recent events or facts. After a few instances of Chat being useful, Techno had stopped outright ignoring them and started to listen to their ramblings more frequently. (Though, if such a decision had taken a toll on him, he didn’t show it.) “Shit. What’re they saying?”
Techno growled in the back of his throat and squeezed his eyes shut. “That’s what I’m tryna figure out, but I can’t understand anythin’ when I have thousands of voices screamin’ different things at me all at once .” For emphasis, he bonked the heel of his hand on where it rested on the side of his head. “ Seriously, guys, you gotta calm down - gimme a second to sort this out, Phil.”
“‘Course.” And Philza went silent, waiting for his friend to settle the chaos in his head. In the meantime, he kept his hand on the hilt of his sword and continued to scan their surroundings, just in case whatever it was that Chat was trying to warn them about arrived before the voices could get their message across.
Less than a minute later, Techno exhaled heavily. “Okay, they’re sayin’ a lot ‘bout Ranboo. Dunno what, but I keep hearin’ his name. That’s not out of the ordinary, though. Chat talks about him all the time, but they’re just bein’ so loud about it right now. Dream’s name is gettin’ thrown around too, and...somethin’ about discs...?”
“Tommy’s music discs, most likely,” Philza replied. He was sure to keep his words just loud enough for Techno to hear. His friend didn’t need another voice to add to the thousands currently bellowing nonsense in his ear. “Dream’s just about as obsessed with them as Tommy, from what I’ve heard. Any idea what it means?”
“Honestly, not a clue. They’re hard to understand when they get like this, but I don’t think we’re in any immediate danger.”
Philza hummed in agreement. “Yeah, we’d know by now if that were the case. I don’t see anything out of the ordinary.” He took one last look around and, still skeptical but deciding it was safe for now, let his grip go lax and eased his tensed wings. “It must be something with Ranboo, then. Or Dream. Or Tommy’s discs.”
Techno let out a heavy sigh and dropped his hand from the side of his head. “Let’s just keep goin’, Phil, I’ll figure it out when we get home. They could just be chattin’ ‘bout somethin’.”
“Doesn’t sound like they’re ‘just chattin’’, Techno,” Philza remarked as Techno resumed walking. He kept up with a long stride, and he settled his wing over Techno’s broad shoulders once again. “They never get this loud unless something is going on, right?”
“It always seems like there’s somethin’ going on. They, uh…” Techno winced, and he continued in a mutter, “They’ve been pretty loud since Tommy sided with L’Manburg.”
“Well, shit, mate,” Philza sighed. He hugged his wing a little tighter. “Sorry to hear that. You been holding up alright?”
“I’m handlin’ it, I’m handlin’ it,” Techno assured, nodding. “I think they’ll settle down eventually.”
“How long do you think that’ll take?”
Techno snorted bitterly. “Your guess is as good as mine.”
“Well, if you need anything from me, you just let me know, alright?”
Techno met his gaze out of the corner of his eye, and his lips turned upwards to curl a smile around his tusks. “I’ll be sure to do that, Phil.”
The rest of their walk continued in comfortable silence save for the occasional whistle of the arctic winds across the snow. Though Techno seemed to have recovered from the initial spike of volume in Chat’s voices, there was still a hunch to his shoulders, and his expression remained slightly taught, as if squinting through a headache. Given the nature of his discomfort, Philza wouldn’t be surprised if that were the case.
During the last leg of their trek back to the house, Philza was left with his own thoughts, wondering what the voices had been trying to say - assuming they were saying anything worthwhile at all. From what Techno had told him about Chat, much of their whispers and shoutings could be regarded as gibberish, like the times they repeated random letters (“e” was a particular favorite of theirs, as it would turn out) or nonsensical phrases such as “rainbow-chat”, whatever the fuck that meant. They liked to trick him, too, feed him lies and make him second guess himself.
Philza hoped that, this time around, Chat was genuine in their intentions and weren’t just trying to cause Techno pain. But if that were the case, then that begged the question: what exactly were they trying to say? Why were they so obsessed with Ranboo all of a sudden? And what did Dream and Tommy’s music discs have to do with it?
Feeling all-around uneasy with the situation, Philza briefly lifted his communicator and pulled up the global chat.
You whisper to Ranboo: hey what’re you up to?
There - just a quick check in with the local enderman hybrid. Ranboo would respond soon enough, and he would be able to clear up whatever it was that Chat was hollering about. Problem solved.
At this point, Philza and Techno had reached the house. As Techno checked on Carl in his pen, Philza lifted his arms towards his chest, bent his knees, and gave his wings a few strong pumps. The stance kept him more-or-less grounded while simultaneously allowing him to shake off as much of the soot from the Nether air as he could from the surface of his wings just so that he wouldn’t track too much of it into the house. It also succeeded in blowing off some of the ash from his armor. He would need to wash up properly later.
Techno looked over from where he was standing beside Carl, and he raised a brow. “Now didja really have to go and do that right in front of the door?”
“What?” Philza glanced around, then looked down at the ground. The snow by the entrance to the house was covered in a layer of dark grey ash, and some of the soot had settled on the door handles. He chuckled, “O-Oh fuck, sorry, mate.”
“It’s fine, it’s fine,” Techno grumbled, rolling his eyes as he gave Carl one last pat and strolled over to the front door. “Just go ahead and make a mess of my front lawn, why don’t you.”
“I said I was sorry!” Philza laughed, following him into the storage room.
They began the process of sorting their newly gathered supplies, and, well, Philza had to admit, the storage room had seen better days. Things became a bit hectic when Techno struck the deal with Dream and had less than a day to prepare for battle. It was a frantic twenty-two hours of brewing, mending, enchanting, and crafting, and the less important things - like the organization of storage chests - had been pushed to the wayside. That, on top of making expansions to the house so that Philza could have his own room to sleep (having wings meant that he needed a decent amount of space if he wished to be comfortable), meant that the storage room was left awfully neglected. Philza and Techno had been picking at the mess over the past week while doing expansions on the house, gradually cleaning up the disaster zone, but Philza had a feeling that they were going to have to dedicate an afternoon to sorting out the situation.
But this was not that afternoon, so Philza was happy to dump all the magma cream, blaze rods, and vials of ghast tears into a chest and call it a day. Techno, meanwhile, stored away the gold and quartz he’d picked up during his blast mining session and started to stoke a fire in the blast furnaces to begin the long, tedious process of crafting netherite. It would have to smelt overnight before the debris could be torn away to reveal the scraps of netherite locked inside.
While Techno was preparing the furnace, Philza shucked off his filthy armor and stretched, feeling a thousand pounds lighter without that suit of netherite to weigh him down. He stepped into a pair of workboots that were softened by years of wear and tear. It was heaven beneath his feet after having to stomp around in his greaves for several hours. With that, he hauled himself up the stairs to the main room where he set about stoking a fire. It didn’t take him long, and soon, a flame had roared to life in the hearth, promising plenty of warmth.
It was then that Philza had a moment to think, and he decided to check his communicator to see if Ranboo had responded.
He hadn’t. The message had been sent nearly fifteen minutes ago now.
Philza frowned. Well, that in and of itself wasn’t cause for concern - there were countless reasons as to why someone wouldn’t respond to a message right away - but taking Chat’s shoutings into account made some of his unease reemerge in a slight turn of his gut. Yes, there was something wrong with this whole situation. Philza just wasn’t sure what .
Techno came up the stairs a second later. Also having shed his netherite suit, he wore nothing but his white tunic - now covered in ash and light stains of blood most likely from when his blast mining had gone pear-shaped - and his puffy greyish trousers, the cuffs of which were tucked into the wraps around his otherwise bare cloven hooves. They clicked dully against the wooden boards as Techno dragged himself over to a chair and unceremoniously dropped onto it with a huff, head tipping back to thump against the frame of a window. He closed his eyes, groaning softly.
“Oof,” said Philza, leaning back with his hands planted on the rim of a chest. “That bad, huh?”
“They won’t shut up , Phil,” Techno nearly whined. The unabashed complaint in his voice betrayed how truly agonized he was, and Philza winced in sympathy. “What’s worse is that I still can’t understand what they’re tryna say, so I don’t even know what I gotta do to get them to stop.”
“Sounds like shit.” Techno just hummed in agreement, seeming as though he couldn’t and wouldn’t open his eyes for anything; Philza couldn’t blame him. “Maybe you should go lie down for a bit. Chat’ll tire themselves out eventually, right?”
“It’s yet to happen, but here’s to hopin’, I guess.” His face drew tighter, and he tipped his head forward to pinch his forehead with his fingers. “Gah, no, Chat, that’s not helpin’ at all… ”
Pursing his lips, Philza crossed the room and looped an arm around Techno’s back. “Alright, mate,” he grunted, gently lifting Techno off the chest onto his feet. He briefly took the brunt of Techno’s weight as he struggled to stabilize himself. Philza had seen the effects of a loud, unrelenting Chat enough times to know that the racket from the voices could sometimes be disorienting for his friend. “Let's get you to bed.”
As Philza brought him over to the stairs that led to the attic, where Techno’s bedroom was, he caught a glimpse of something out one of the windows, and he just had to pause to observe it.
The back windows of the second story of Techno’s house offered a perfect view of Ranboo’s little shack. Philza would often catch glimpses of the kid working away in his garden or sorting through his chests, and sometimes Philza would give him a friendly wave, pleased to get the gesture returned with equal warmth. This time, though, he could see no shack, nor a garden.
There was just dirt. Piles and piles of dirt, as well as a massive crater in his front yard. Given the lack of snowfall settled on the overturned earth, Philza had to assume it was recent. There was no sign of the kid anywhere from what he could see, either.
Once more, unease spiked deep in his gut, and he narrowed his eyes at the view from the window. “What the fuck…?”
“Uh, Phil?” Techno murmured. Philza saw him crack an eye open to peer down at him. “Somethin’ wrong?”
Philza jerked his head to the window, and Techno turned to see. “There’s something up with Ranboo’s yard. Any idea what he’s doing?”
Techno snorted. “Ruinin’ my property value, that’s for sure - ow .”
“You alright?” Philza asked immediately.
“ Yeah, I hear ya’, trust me, I do - sorry, Chat started hollerin’ again. They…” He blinked his eyes open, a sudden clarity in his gaze. “...Phil, they want us to go to Ranboo’s yard.”
Philza’s eyebrows crept up. “Are you sure?”
“Yeah,” Techno replied with a slight grimace, presumably as the voices shouted their agreement, “yeah, I’m pretty sure.”
“Okay, then let’s get you upstairs and I’ll - ”
“Oh no, I’m comin’ with ya.”
Philza gave him a worried look. “Are you sure? Because - and I mean this kindly - you look like utter shit at the moment.”
“If what’s happenin’ with Ranboo’s yard is what’s causin’ Chat to scream bloody murder - not literally - at me, then I wanna see what’s happenin’ with Ranboo’s yard,” Techno said with finality. He peeled away from Philza’s side and forced himself to stand on his own, as if to prove a point. To his credit, he barely swayed.
Skeptical, but trusting him nonetheless, Philza replied, “Alright, if you’re sure, Techno. Let’s have a look.”
They grabbed their cloaks from where they’d hung them beside the fireplace earlier that day. Techno fiddled with the numerous clasps while Philza shimmied his wings through the slits in the back and fastened the buckles. Then, Philza began to lead them out, but he changed his mind and headed back down to the storage room, where he’d hung up all his gear. There, he clipped his netherite sword to his hip. Philza knew that matters that had to do with Dream and the discs could go to shit very quickly, and assuming the situation in Ranboo’s yard had anything to do with either of those, Philza thought it best to be prepared. Techno appeared to have similar thoughts, as he grabbed his axe - his new axe, Philza realized for the first time that day - and strapped it to his back.
Philza met Techno’s eye. His friend nodded to him, and together, they went to go investigate the situation.
Now, Philza had been able to tell that the destruction of Ranboo’s front yard was thorough from the view in the window, but standing before the mounds of dirt was something else. The piles were uneven, haphazard in a way that did not indicate planned construction, but instead spoke of desperate, frantic digging - and it had to be man-made. It was much too big of a mess to have been created by a creeper.
“What the fuck happened here?” Philza muttered, mostly to himself, though Techno still responded with an equally baffled, “Not sure…” Philza stepped around one of the mounds to investigate the crater in the center, and...
...Well. Good news was that he found the kid. Bad news was that said kid was curled up unmoving on his side in the bottom of the pit, gangly legs pulled up towards his stomach and slim arms wrapped tightly around himself. His clawed hands gripped his upper arms so hard that he was practically tearing holes through the sleeves of his tattered suit jacket.
Philza’s heart jumped into his throat at the sight. “ Shhhhit .” Without a second thought, he slid down the slope of the crater and rushed forward, kneeling down beside the hybrid. He heard Techno come stumbling down the slope not a second later, arriving at Philza’s side, also kneeling.
Philza did a quick scan with his eyes. He didn’t see any blood anywhere, so there were no immediate signs of injury. Ranboo was trembling like a leaf, though, and it led Philza to believe that he was in some sort of physical pain. Despite the fact that he wasn’t presently crying, there were tear tracks on his cheeks, tendril burns that ran down his face as well as across the bridge of his nose, most likely from when he’d laid down on his side and continued to cry.
Philza put a hand on Ranboo’s shoulder and gave him a shake, calling, “Ranboo? Ranboo, can you hear me? It’s Philza.”
Ranboo’s half-lidded eyes didn’t move, and he didn’t respond in any way save for curling in on himself even further and emitting a small, warbly croak that came from the back of his throat and tumbled through his slack-jawed mouth.
“Did…” Techno began, stopping short as he comprehended the sound. “...Did he just make an enderman noise?”
Philza briefly thought back to a conversation he’d had with Ranboo the day he found the kid still lingering around the ruins of L’Manburg and decided to bring him up north. It was when Edward, the enderman that hung out in Techno’s house sometimes, was agitated by Ranboo’s presence and started to screech at him. They’d gone outside to wait for Edward to calm down.
“Do you ever make those noises?” Philza asked the enderman hybrid, genuinely curious.
Ranboo frowned at the question and said, voice hoarse, “Only when I’m under immense amounts of stress.”
Philza clenched his jaw - “Shit, mate, you better not be hurt.” - and he tore off his glove to press two fingers to the pulse point beneath Ranboo’s chin. Then, he slid a hand between Ranboo’s folded arms to feel his chest. To his relief, Ranboo’s pulse was steady, albeit a little too fast (though, he was aware of the fact that he wasn’t educated enough on enderman hybrid physiology to know what was considered a normal heart rate for them), and he could feel it both at the pulse point and at the heart itself. Ranboo’s breathing, however, was shaky and shallow, denoted by the tremble in his chest every time he sucked in a breath of air. His hundred-yard gaze didn’t so much as twitch. Philza felt around for broken bones, double checked for a head injury, and even looked for signs of poison residue on Ranboo’s lips - but there were none.
Philza leaned back on his haunches, tapping his bare hand on his knee as he rolled the facts around in his head.
“So?” prompted Techno. “What’s the verdict?”
“He’s not... injured , from what I can tell,” Philza answered slowly. “Something internal could be troubling him, but I don’t know what it is, if that’s the case. His heartbeat is fine, and while he’s not breathing very deeply, at least he’s breathing , so I don’t think he’s in any immediate - ”
Another distorted groan issued from Ranboo’s open mouth, and he shifted ever so slightly, running his hands up and down his arms once. His claws quickly went back to ripping through his jacket the moment he went still again. He blinked once, slowly.
“He keeps doin’ that,” Techno observed. “Is that normal?”
“He told me once that he only does it when he’s super stressed out.”
Techno hummed pensively. He stood to walk over to Ranboo’s other side so he could get a better look at the hybrid’s face. “He looks gone , Phil, like - I don’t think he’s aware of what’s goin’ on right now.”
“If he’s in pain, then he could be in shock,” Philza mused, “but this doesn’t really look like shock, or the traditional symptoms of it. This is way more extreme. But mentally checking out could be his body’s way of coping with pain.”
“...Or it could all just be mental.”
Philza looked up at Techno and observed the thoughtful furrow in his brow. “What do you mean?”
“I mean a mental breakdown. You said it yourself, he makes those sounds when he’s stressed, and he doesn’t look like he’s hurt.”
“From what I can tell.”
“He’s got no other symptoms, though. Like, look around, Phil.” Techno waved a hand at the crater and piles of dirt. “You really think someone in a good mental state would do somethin’ like this? I know Ranboo said he was gonna do some work on his house, but he didn’t say anything ‘bout tearing up his front lawn. It’s like…” Techno paused to think of an example. “You know how sometimes Chat gets a little out of hand, and they start demandin’ blood but I’ve got nothin’ to kill, or I don’t want to kill?”
“Yeah?”
“Well, I go out in the woods ‘n chop down some trees, make a mess of everything. Eventually, Chat calms down, and I come home and pass out for twelve hours... I think this is similar. Sorta.”
Philza worried at the implications. “Ranboo’s never said anything about having bloodthirsty voices in his head, Techno.”
“That’s not what I’m tryna get at. What I’m sayin’ is that he’s in that aftermath bit. He’s gone out into the woods, he’s chopped his trees, and how he’s passed out. Well, not exactly, but you get my point, right?”
Philza looked down at the catatonic hybrid curled up in the snow and saw the singe marks on his cheeks and around his eyes. “I...think I do.” Philza settled a gentle hand on Ranboo’s shoulder. He let out another agonized croaked, something soft, fearful , even.
Philza’s chest twisted at the sound. “Fuck. Poor kid. Assuming you’re right, Techno, then I wonder what upset him so badly.”
Techno winced and rubbed the side of his head. “Gonna take a wild guess and say that it has somethin’ to do with Dream and Tommy’s discs. Chat’s also screamin’ about a chest but, ya’ know, they still haven’t been able to comprehend that I can’t understand them when they’re in hysterics, so that’s ‘bout all I’m gonna get from ‘em.”
“A chest…” Philza glanced around. There were a few areas where it seemed like some of the dirt had been shoveled back into or slid down the slopes back into the pit, and a spade lay abandoned in the overturned earth closest to the shack, but there were no signs of a chest. “Well, Chat, if you can hear me, then let me just say that I have no fucking clue what you’re going on about.”
Techno heaved an exhausted sigh. “Oh, ya just had to go ahead and acknowledge them, ya just had to . Now they’re just yellin’ your name over ‘n over like a pack of overexcited puppies.”
“Oh, Chat still likes me, do they?” he asked with a playful raise of an eyebrow.
“Philza Minecraft, they adore you. Whenever you walk in the room, they just go ‘Philza Philza Philza’ like I need remindin’ what your name is.”
“Awww - ”
“Nah-ah-ah,” Techno cut him off, waving a hand in Philza’s face and pressing his other to the side of his head again. “Don’t - don’t encourage ‘em, it’s already bad enough as it is.”
Philza chuckled warmly, but he was quickly pulled back to the present by yet another enderman-like croak from the distressed kid curled up before him. Philza placed his other hand on the back of Ranboo’s head in what he hoped was a comforting gesture. “I wonder how long he’s been out here,” Philza murmured. “I know he’s not as susceptible to the cold as us, but he’s not really dressed for the weather, either. Shaking like a leaf, too. Do you think we could get him inside?”
“Dunno. Depends on how out of it he is. Maybe he can still walk. I’m not sure how easy it’s gonna be if we have to carry him.”
“Let’s try to get him on his feet first. If we can’t, then we’ll figure it out from there.”
Techno nodded in agreement, and Philza took the lead. He ran his fingers through Ranboo’s hair, soothing. “Hey, Ranboo, I don’t know if you can hear me, but we’re gonna try to bring you in the house, alright?... Okay, let’s do this.”
Philza started by delicately grasping Ranboo’s forearms and pulling them away from his chest. Ranboo was surprisingly pliable, and Philza found little resistance to the motion. Once that was done, he hooked his arms under Ranboo’s armpits and dragged him into something resembling a sitting position, having the kid’s back rest on his lap as he readjusted his grip. Techno moved in to steady him as well, making sure he wasn’t jostled around too much.
As Philza got him to sit up properly and Techno was adjusting his awkwardly angled legs, Ranboo’s eyes fluttered, and for a brief moment he didn’t look quite as distant. His gaze flickered around, eyes glancing over Techno and up towards Philza. There was another enderman sound, and Ranboo squirmed in Philza’s grasp.
“I know, mate,” Philza whispered, stopping briefly to run his fingers through Ranboo’s hair again. “You’re okay, promise.”
Ranboo stopped squirming, and Philza continued, muttering a few instructions to Techno so they could work together to coordinate Ranboo’s limbs. They eventually decided that Techno would switch positions with Philza, as Ranboo was much too tall. Once they switched, they worked together to get Ranboo on his feet, Techno lifting him from behind while Philza made sure he didn’t tip forward and crumple to the floor. The kid was surprisingly steady, though, able to stand on his own two feet with little support. He remained in a hunch, though, head bowed forward and shoulders brought up. His arms came to wrap around himself like they did before; his eyes were not much clearer.
Philza decided to give it another try. “Ranboo?”
Unsurprisingly, he got another enderman croak as a response, but this time, Ranboo’s slackened jaw clicked shut.
“Alright,” Philza exhaled. He placed an arm on the middle of Ranboo’s back and wrapped a wing over his shoulders for good measure. “Let’s go.”
Techno remained on Ranboo’s other side as Philza carefully led the shaking hybrid to the house, ready to offer support if he lost his balance. They went slow, uncertain of exactly how coordinated Ranboo was. They brought him up the set of outside stairs to the main room on the second floor. On the way in, Ranboo smacked his forehead on the doorframe and let out a sharp enderman-ish whine, sounding more startled than anything. Philza couldn’t help but chuckle as he extended his wing upward and urged Ranboo to duck down. “Sorry, watch your head, mate.”
Techno huffed in amusement. “Yeah, these doors were not made for someone who’s nearly seven feet tall.”
Ranboo made a disgruntled sound, but otherwise didn’t comment. Philza brought him over to the sofa and had him sit, then encouraged him to lay down. His feet almost hung off the other end, but other than that, he looked comfortable. Some of the strain in his features had softened, and the glassiness of his stare wasn’t nearly as pervasive. There was a little more clarity there than before.
Curious, Philza gave it yet another try. “Ranboo?”
There was a hum in the back of his throat, still distorted but vaguely human. Regardless, it was a response, and it filled Philza with hope. He settled a gentle hand over Ranboo’s forehead; Ranboo’s eyes fluttered shut, and he leaned into it.
“I think he’s startin’ to come back,” Techno observed. “That’s good, that’s good.”
Philza pulled his hand away from Ranboo to grab the blanket that was folded over the back of the sofa. He draped it over the kid and decided, “He probably needs rest. Assuming he’s the one who dug up that hole, he should be tired as all hell.” Philza straightened himself out and turned to Techno. “How about you, mate? How’s Chat doing?”
Techno tilted his head to the side, as if trying to listen to the voices. “Well, they’ve mostly calmed down. They’re just chantin’ ‘Dadza’ and ‘Technoprotect’ over n’ over now. At least they’re not screamin’ anymore.”
Philza chuckled, and something that resembled sunshine, songs, and playful shouts ached in his chest. ( ‘Dadza’. Haven’t heard that one in a while… ) “And how’s your head?”
“Oh, my head is killin’ me,” Techno replied flatly, “but that’s just a given.”
“How about,” Philza began, moving to shimmy out of his winter cloak, “you go clean up and rest your head for a minute, and I stay here to keep an eye on Ranboo? I mean, you’re still wearing that bloody shirt, and you smell like, well, the Nether .”
“Hate to break it to you, Phil: you’re not doin’ much better yourself on that front,” Techno remarked, “but alright, I’ll go… Thanks,” he added a beat later.
Philza gave him a warm smile. “‘Course, mate.”
As Techno left to go run a bath, Philza hung up his cloak and turned back to face the couch. Ranboo, eyes just barely open, had pulled the blanket up towards his chin and curled his legs in so all of him could properly fit on the couch. He appeared to be more at ease, certainly more than he had been when he was laying outside. Philza came closer to get a better look at him. He found that he had nearly stopped shaking, and the tension in his body was essentially nonexistent. There were no distressed enderman sounds grating against the back of his throat.
Philza sat down on the edge of the couch, let the cushions dip carefully with his weight. He ran a hand through Ranboo’s hair and was pleased to find that the kid had the same reaction as before, leaning into the touch. Philza wasn’t sure why he’d done it the first time when he had been trying to calm Ranboo down while attempting to get him on his feet. Now, though, it didn’t take him long to realize that it was the same thing he had done with Wilbur and Tommy when they were younger.
Oh, he could remember it now, waking up to wailing in the early hours of the morning, grabbing a lantern and stumbling half-asleep down the hall to find Tommy or Wilbur in tears, “I had a nightmare, I had a nightmare!” And he would sit at their bedside, lay them down, and run his hand through their hair, whispering soft nothings; and before he knew it, the tears would stop and they’d be asleep.
(It was a simpler time, before empires and armies. Before he needed to raise his boys to be men, raise them to lead, show them the ways of the world, and teach them the art of war.)
Philza sighed at the thought, feeling a bone-deep exhaustion settle in. He would much rather not think about such things anymore, so he went back to focusing on Ranboo, still threading his fingers through the kid’s fluffy bangs. He watched as the last of the tremors left Ranboo’s frame and witnessed his chest rise and fall in steady, even breaths.
Eventually, those half-lidded eyes blinked up at him, and they squinted with what could only be described as muddled confusion. Ranboo opened his mouth and, for the first time that day, there was no distorted groan. Only a bleary murmur of, “Ph...Philza...?”
Philza smiled softly. “‘Ey mate. How you feeling?”
Ranboo blinked slowly. “...Tired.”
“Get some rest, then.”
Ranboo made an affirmative noise and closed his eyes. Philza continued to run his fingers through his hair for a few more minutes before finally pulling his hand away.
“Ranboo,” he beckoned softly. This time, when he got no reply, he was filled with a sense of contentment. Moving quietly, Philza stood from where he’d perched himself on the edge of the sofa and settled himself into a chair across the room from the couch, wings slack and draped over the arms.
A glance down at himself told him that Techno hadn’t been kidding when he said that he wasn’t much better off. He wondered if it was worth it to change into clean clothes when he still needed to wash up. For the moment, he decided it wasn’t worth it and that the chair was awfully comfortable.
Stacked on a nearby chest were a few books that Philza had been reading earlier, as well as his personal notebook and charcoal pencil. He’d found them in the mansion he’d gone to just a couple days before, and while his Galactic was rusty, they were still fairly interesting to read and take notes on. Deciding it was a good way to pass the time, he picked up the book he’d been working on, flipping open the ancient tome with careful fingers. Then, he grabbed his notebook and continued to record his findings - anything he deemed interesting or potentially useful.
The clock on the wall ticked softly as he worked, accompanied by the gentle popping of the fireplace and the sound of his pencil upon the paper. He alternated between reading and writing for an indefinite amount of time, murmuring Galactic under his breath as he worked to translate the ancient phrases. The room was blessedly warm, and with the sun finally starting to sink below the horizon, the hearth became the only source of light in the room, throwing sharper shadows on the walls and warming surfaces in its gold-orange glow.
Philza briefly closed his weary eyes to bask in the tranquility of the main room.
...He didn’t realize that he’d dozed off in his chair, books in his lap and pencil in hand, until he was stirring sometime later to the sound of quiet footsteps puttering back and forth.
“This goes...here. Yeah, that’s right.”
Philza’s head shot up at the voice, and he caught sight of Ranboo pacing the room. The kid stopped in front of the couch and picked up one of the pillows in the room, holding it with one hand placed carefully on either side. He stared at the pillow for a long while before trotting over to the barrel in the corner and setting the pillow down atop it. He let his hands drop to his side, nodded to himself - “Right. Good.” - and plodded around the room again, this time stopping in front of one of the several brewing stands in the room. Just like the pillow, he picked it up in a delicate grasp.
Baffled, Philza spoke up. “Hey Ranboo - ”
Ranboo gasped - “H-H-HI PHILZA - !” - and he scrambled to catch the brewing stand he’d nearly dropped on the floor, snatching it by the neck and pulling it protectively towards his chest. His eyes darted about the room for a moment before he finally settled them on the man in the chair. “H-Hi, uh, hi Philza.” Ranboo cleared his throat behind a closed fist, eyes darting off to the side. “Sorry, did I, uhm, wake you?”
“You did, but that’s alright,” Philza replied. He rubbed his eyes and stretched with a yawn. “What’re you up to?”
“I’m…” Ranboo looked down at the brewing stand he had hugged to his chest. “Moving...things…”
“Why?”
“It’s calming,” Ranboo answered quickly. “I pick them up and I move them to where they should be. O-Or where I think they should be.” He blinked, eyes darting over to Philza again. “Sorry, I’ll just…” He set down the brewing stand, then proceeded to look around the room, muttering to himself as he stumbled about: “This was...here, and then...I think I moved this one from there...and this one probably went over here…or maybe here …?”
Philza straightened out, watching Ranboo with mounting concern as he ambled around, putting things back where he found them. “Are you alright, mate?”
“Oh, fine, perfectly fine,” Ranboo assured him while returning the pillow to the couch. He trotted over to the mantle where he’d placed a hammer and put it back on the anvil. “Sorry for kinda rearranging your living room. Just...needed to calm down. And, uh, like I said, moving stuff is calming. So now I’m calm.”
Philza tilted his head at the hybrid. “Is this an enderman thing?”
“Probably.” Ranboo pushed a lantern from the left side of a shelf to the right. “Definitely.” He spun in a slow circle, observing the room. “I... think that’s everything. Chances are I forgot something, so, uh, sorry if you can’t find it later.”
“We’ll manage.”
There was an awkward gap of silence where neither of them said anything. Ranboo seemed to be looking everywhere but at Philza, though that wasn’t atypical for the kid. Philza had noticed over the past couple months that Ranboo had a thing about avoiding eye contact for...well, obvious reasons.
Ranboo drew in a sharp breath. “So, gonna be honest with you, Philza, I... don’t know how I got here. Like, last thing I remember is heading over to L’Manburg to do...something…? Get my pets, probably. And then I woke up on your couch. And my shoulders are very sore.”
“That’s really all you remember.” Philza said it more than asked, but Ranboo still replied: “Uh, yeah, just about.”
“How long have you been awake?”
“Only a few minutes.”
Philza glanced at the clock, then saw the near-darkness of a wintery evening through the window. It didn’t look like he’d been asleep for very long at all, so Techno was probably still cleaning up or had gone up to his room in the attic to rest.
He looked to Ranboo. “Oh- kay then,” he exhaled. He closed up his books and set them aside. “Let me fill you in…”
Philza told Ranboo about what had happened, about how they’d found him curled up in a pit in his front yard, shaking and unresponsive. He left out everything that Chat had told them for Techno’s sake, as he wasn’t sure how Techno would feel about him revealing something like that to Ranboo. Still, Ranboo listened, visibly growing more uneasy as Philza went on. By the time Philza had finished his account, Ranboo had started to shift from foot to foot like he wanted to pace the room but wouldn’t, for whatever reason. Maybe he thought it rude (which it wasn’t).
“Uhm, yeah, that… ” Ranboo blew out a breath from between his lips, rubbing the back of his head. “I-I tend to sorta...black out sometimes, when I’m really, really stressed. It’s like...disappearing from reality? I just...leave. Gone. I rarely remember what happens or what I do when I’m like that, and I don’t think I come back for a while. There’s a word for it, and I - heh - I don’t remember what it is, but - ”
“I believe the word you’re lookin’ for is ‘dissociation’.”
Philza and Ranboo looked over to see Techno coming down from the attic, dressed in a clean set of clothes and new wraps around his hooves. His golden circlet had found its usual place on his forehead, blood-red rubies glittering faintly in the firelight.
“Hey Techno,” Philza greeted him warmly.
“Hi, uh, hi Techno,” Ranboo managed. He shuffled a half step back, as if to give him more space in the room despite the good six feet of distance between them. There was a brief pause where Techno gave Ranboo a funny look, and Ranboo (as usual) just tilted his gaze elsewhere.
Philza decided to do them all a mercy. “So, disassociation?”
“‘Eah,” Techno replied, easily jumping back into the discussion. “I heard what you said, Ranboo. I don’t know all the ins-and-outs of it, but that’s what it seems like to me.”
Ranboo nodded. “I think that was the word, actually. ‘Disassociation’. Sounds right.”
“How’re ya feelin’ now?”
“F-Fine? Kinda tired? I moved some things around - and then put them back - so I’m feeling good.”
Techno squinted at him, confused. “Riiiight. Well, glad to see you’re not curled up in a ball on the floor anymore.”
“Yeah, uhm, me too - Thanks for that, by the way,” Ranboo added. “Bringing me inside, I mean. If I stayed out there for much longer, the snow probably would’ve started to burn and that...would not have been good. So, yeah. Thanks.”
“Of course, mate,” Philza replied simply, giving him what he hoped was a reassuring smile. “Happy to help.”
“Out of curiosity,” Techno began, looking to Ranboo once more, “I know that disassociation is usually caused by somethin’, so if ya don’t mind sharin’, do you have any idea what might’ve caused it this time around?”
“It would be good to know,” Philza mused aloud, nodding, “just so that we don’t do anything that would trigger it - because it looked fucking awful, mate.”
“I, um…” Ranboo’s voice faltered as his eyes, once darting about the walls, came to settle on the fireplace, staring unflinchingly into the flames for a long few seconds…
Ranboo sucked in a sharp breath and blinked rapidly. “Nope, not a - not a clue what caused it this time. Sorry.”
Philza exchanged a look with Techno, and that was all he needed in order to know that they were both thinking the same thing: it had something to do with Dream and the discs. Why else would Chat have been screaming about it earlier?
Now, Philza didn’t give a rat’s arse about Dream or Tommy’s music discs, and he knew Techno felt the same. Dream was just a man, the discs were just discs. End of story. But, they were the source of a lot of pain on the server. He could see why Ranboo would be reluctant to discuss them. That, and the episodes he had were probably something he’d meant to keep personal.
“Well, that’s alright,” Philza assured him after a very brief pause. “We’re just glad you’re okay now.”
“Um, yeah. A-And thanks again. Really. I appreciate it.” He glanced at the back window. In the dying light of early evening, his yard was still just barely visible with the help of the lanterns he’d left lit around his shack. “Ooo, that’s gonna take a while to fix. I really had to go and dig a massive hole, huh.” He chuckled weakly. “And I don’t even get to know why .”
“We could help you, if you want,” Philza offered.
“Oh, no, that’s alright, I don’t really mind the work. It’s something to do.” There was another pause. Ranboo cleared his throat. “Aaaaanyway, I’m gonna go. Thanks for letting me crash on your couch for a while, it’s been...n-nice, I suppose?” It was more a question than an answer. He looked out the window again, and Philza didn’t miss the slight grimace that flashed across his expression. “Yeah. Cool. I’ll just…” He started for the door. “...be on my way.”
It was obvious that he didn’t want to go, or at least he didn’t want to have to return to his ruined yard and face the realities of whatever it was that had happened. Philza wasn’t sure exactly how much Ranboo could remember of what sent him into his episode, but he clearly remembered enough to be hesitant to leave the relative safety of Techno’s house. The kid was far too skittish and far too polite to say anything about it, though. If only there was a way to make him more comfortable with remaining here -
“Do you wanna stay for dinner?”
The solution came from Techno, who nearly blurted the suggestion as Ranboo was preparing to push open the door. Ranboo’s hand froze on the doorknob, and he flicked his gaze over towards Techno, blinking owlishly. His head cocked to the side. “U-Uh, dinner?”
Techno, swiftly recovering from his rushed offer (he seemed to have surprised himself with that one), gave half of a smirk. “Yeah, ya know, when people sit around and eat food together, usually in the late afternoon or early evenin’ hours - ”
“No, I - ” Ranboo laughed lightly, a smile worming its way onto his lips - “I know what dinner is, I just - me?”
“I mean…” Techno made a show of glancing around the room. “...who else?”
Ranboo laughed again, though it came off with more of a cringe. “I-I don’t want to intrude - ”
“It’s not intruding if we’re offering,” Philza told him. He stood up to walk over to Ranboo, and he settled a reassuring hand on his upper arm, smiling kindly. “We weren’t planning on doing something special, so it’s not a hassle or anything like that. So, you’re welcome to stay with us for dinner, if you’d like.”
Ranboo still hesitated, of course, but soon enough, his hand fell from the doorknob. “...I would like that. Thank you. Is there any way I can help?”
“There isn’t much to be done. We were just going to pull out some salted steak and vegetables we have in the cellar and make some stew - you can eat stew, right? Will the water burn you?”
“Oh, yeah, I can have stew. Not, like, a ton , but I can.”
“We could just set aside some steak for you, if that’s better,” Techno provided.
“Either is fine, really. Whatever’s easiest.”
“We have that bread I baked earlier, too,” Philza reminded Techno, who hummed in confirmation. “That should still be good.”
“You guys have a bee farm, right?” Ranboo ventured. “If you guys have extra honey, you could have that with the bread.”
“Ooo, bread and honey,” agreed Techno. “That sounds good.”
Philza clapped his hands together conclusively. “Well, there we go, we’ve just fixed dinner. Now we just have to pull everything out.” He glanced down at himself. “...And I still need to wash up and change.”
“You go do that, Phil,” said Techno. He jerked his head over to their guest. “Ranboo and I can take care of the meal prep.” The kid bobbed his head up and down emphatically.
Philza chuckled at the motion. “Well, if you’re sure. Let’s be off, then.”
They all headed downstairs to the storage room, Techno showing Ranboo where the cooking utensils were and which cauldron to grab. While Ranboo was distracted, Philza gave Techno a gentle nudge on the arm and mouthed a wordless, “Thank you.”
His friend, in response, just gave a huff of acknowledgement, but Philza caught that flicker of a fond smile pulling at his lips.
Philza headed down to the basement, where his bed and personal effects were currently set up while his permanent room was under construction. He grabbed some fresh clothes, trotted back up to the first floor, and headed into the washroom. He cleaned himself up, preened his wings to the best of his ability, and changed into his familiar pine green robes. When he emerged, feeling much fresher than before, he was glad to find that nothing was on fire, and Ranboo seemed to be very happy to chop vegetables while Techno dealt with the meats and liquids. Philza pitched in as well, slicing bread to toast it lightly before the fire.
They usually had a table set up on the first floor for eating, but once more, construction had made the bottom floor of their house a mess, so Philza and Techno had taken to bringing their food upstairs to eat on the sofas in the living room. Ranboo didn’t seem to mind at all, claiming that he himself didn’t have a proper dining table in his home either. So, Philza and Techno settled into the sofa while Ranboo took the armchair, and they tucked in.
Ranboo, clearly more at ease than he had been just half an hour prior, consumed his meal with the gusto of a starving man (“I-I don’t remember when I ate last,” he explained with a lopsided laugh), and Techno was surprisingly social, all things considered. Yes, Philza could sense a little bit of unease rolling off his friend by the twitch in his ears and the shift of his shoulders; but even still, he was hospitable, and for that, Philza was appreciative.
Philza himself had a good time talking with Ranboo. When you could get the kid to come out of his shell, he was very good at conversation and always seemed to have something interesting to talk about. For having such a poor memory, there was a lot of information - facts, figures, those sorts of things - rattling around in his head. He took a great interest in the things Philza had been reading up on in the tomes he’d found. It led to a discussion between the three of them of the nature of evokers’ magic, where it could possibly come from, and if it could be harnessed. The conversation went on for much longer than anticipated, eventually feeding into other topics that kept them chatting long after all the food had been eaten. It wasn’t until they were stifling yawns that they realized how late it was.
“This was nice,” Ranboo told them as he made ready to leave, holding a borrowed lantern in his hand. His house wasn’t far, but the winds kicked up snow and made it difficult to see in the dark, no moonlight or stars to offer illumination either. “Thank you for having me.”
“Thank you for staying,” Philza answered earnestly. “If you need anything, don’t be afraid to ask.”
Ranboo gave a sheepish smile. “I’ll...keep that in mind.” He pushed the door open, letting in a chilling winter breeze. “Goodnight, Philza. Goodnight, Techno.”
“Goodnight,” rumbled Techno.
“‘Night, mate,” said Philza.
With that, Ranboo slipped out the door. It shut behind him with a dull thunk and a click. Philza went to the window and made out the shadowy shape of Ranboo strolling over to his shack, one hand tucked into the pockets of his suit jacket while the other held up the lantern as he braved freezing temperatures like they were nothing. He stopped briefly in front of the crater in his yard before forging onward, a little faster this time.
Philza turned around to look at Techno, who looked bushed in more ways than one. He chuckled at his friend and patted him gently on the arm. “Alright, mate, you need to go to bed.”
Techno groaned and dropped his face into his hands. “Oh my goddd, Phil, why is talkin’ to people so exhaustin’ ?”
“Bed, Techno.”
“It isn’t fair - ”
“ Bed ,” urged Philza with a laugh. Techno didn’t need very much more convincing, and he started to lumber up the steep, ladder-like stairs to the attic.
About half way up, he paused. “...We should have him over again sometime.”
Philza raised an eyebrow at that. “Oh yeah?”
“Yeah... Ranboo’s okay.” And he disappeared into his quarters.
Philza stared at the spot where Techno had vanished into the attic with a warm smile pulling at his lips. Turning on his heel, he walked over to the sofa and had a seat. There were breadcrumbs on the cushions, but he just swept them away with his hand. The blanket Ranboo used earlier had yet to be put away, so he folded it up and draped it neatly over the back of the couch. Then, he stared into the hearthfire.
Philza eased into the cushions. It had been nice to have a conversation echo against those lonely walls for once, nice to have the room be filled with life and vibrance. They were awfully secluded, so far north that no one else could find them - and they preferred it that way. Philza preferred it that way. Up here, he had freedom in the life he led with Techno, wings unbound and skies limitless, reminiscent of how things had been during the Empire’s golden age.
...But…
Gentle nothings, fingers through hair; warm smiles, bright-eyed boys.
...something was missing.
Philza sighed heavily, stood, and made his way down to his room in the basement, muttering to himself about being a nostalgic old fool. Still - though he would never admit it - his heart remained by the hearth, quietly hoping that, one day, it wouldn’t be so lonesome.