Work Text:
The door to his cabin opened.
Barely lit and barely used these days, it wasn't really looking like his home now, but he couldn't just call it a base either. The whole building was more metaphorical than factual, just to be here, closer.
He closed the door behind him, his bones creaking more than the wooden floor and walked towards the dusty cupboards.
His clothes were covered in snow, frozen, looking almost like plastic in some spots. It's been snowing for nearly a month straight now, weather showing no mercy, but that kept the question of why Phil continued to work in those conditions at all.
Shaking the thought off, he lazily unwrapped himself from his work clothes with frozen fingers that barely listened to him, putting on something more casual, worn to death by now, but still very loved. He patted himself on the chest a couple of times to get his mind in one place, as if to feel that he's still here, stepping into the first floor of his house, not to feel the numbness that comes with the cold.
He slowly got to the sink, turning on hot water, careful with getting used to the warmth, patiently taking it through his fingers little by little, letting his hands get back to normal temperature before letting water flow on his hands fully. The warmth was calming and pleasing, and for a moment even grounding. He stared into the mirror in front of him for a little too long. He was looking through himself, not really understanding where his trail of thoughts, or lack thereof, went at that moment, but then his eye catched a glimpse of a carefully framed photo on the wall.
Right. That was what was keeping him in the snow before. He quickly looked away, finally washing his hands from dust, splashing his face with water a couple of times, covering his eyes with a towel, not even considering turning his gaze to that wall again, ignoring it.
Well, that was better. But what could make it better but some nice hot tea?
He hurried out of his cabin, heading next door, not allowing the snow to get to him again. His cabin was merely a storage at this point, the kitchen — the heart of the commune — in a completely different house.
Phil wouldn't consider himself prone to sadness. Not at all. Everything that he felt went away a long time ago, now he felt numb most times.
Even looking at that damn photo wouldn't make it come back.
Did he want that, though? He wasn’t sure. All he knew was that it would come back to bite his ass later, when he expected it the least. Now the only thing he could do was to hide himself in routine work.
He moved himself to the cabinets to look for some tea and honey, reaching for cups, nearly grabbing two out of habit.
Right, he wouldn't wake up for that, put the cup back.
The work kept his mind busy, he spent days in the basement and the nearby landscape of their household just doing some grindy work, tiring himself to the bone. Sometimes he fell asleep in the basement, curling into his big wings as a nest, sometimes his friend's cloak, which he borrowed a lot since he was the only one who would get out of the house now. He wasn't proud of that, as he wouldn't advise anyone to sleep in the cold basement, especially since it was just a result of exhaustion, and he wouldn't tell about this to anyone out loud, but he surely would keep that in mind next time he tries to give life advice to anyone but himself.
Work was therapeutic in a way.
That was the most he could do, really, as there was nothing else to do since the snow seemed never ending and it was so so quiet in the house. It felt like the time had stopped when he stayed within these four walls. Usually he was fine enough when Techno was chatting with him on the adventures they regularly had, but now he was hibernating. He missed his out of nowhere stories, which could turn his brain off. He considered himself a great listener, not even attempting to think about what to answer as there was no need for him to talk if he didn't feel like it. It was comfortable and it made him feel alive.
Still, the boredom and silence made Phil face himself. It left him alone with his mind. But he was a practical man, he wouldn't let his innermost thoughts even have a chance to surface, so work replaced the usual things of comfort. Never-stopping work.
The tea smelled great and it brought comfort to his mind as he walked upstairs.
Snow and wind were howling outside of the house, resonating in a very pleasant quiet hum that filled him with true solace.
Quiet snoring.
There he was, sleeping his days away, as he always did when a snowstorm stretched for months.
Phil set his cup next to Techno's huge bed and stared out of the window for a while. It was getting to him now just how tired he was, how every part of his body felt like it was filled with heavy stones. He shook off that intrusive thought, and he raised the cup, allowed the scent to lure him in, and took a couple of sips. Warmth spread throughout his body. The tea was still a bit too hot for his liking, but that's exactly what he wanted for all those hours of battling with snow. His wings untensed behind him, falling gently to his sides. Tired of battling with the combination of hum behind the window and the smell of tea, he rested himself against Techno's back, laying his head somewhere between his shoulder blades, covering his friend with his wing as if he didn't have enough blankets already. The steady, deep breaths of his piglin friend made him sigh, relaxing himself. Now he truly felt it, now he felt the hours of work getting to him.
The snowstorm was howling behind the massive wooden window covered in half dimmed curtains for weeks now. The real snowstorm, however, was happening in Phil's mind, has been happening for much longer than the one outside. It swept away everything that happened on the day he got here, and it made his thoughts a never-ending stream that's impossible to catch, going to all of the different places. But he got used to it. It was much easier to deal with the real snow outdoors for hours, feeling his fingers going numb, as he felt numb in this quiet house.
But that day felt a little but different. He could tell the snowstorm was coming to an end.