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Tommy has always been the most devoted of his friends.
Whether it be to things, people, places, or even just his daily routine, Thomas Innit is nothing if not loyal. He understands it, knows that loyalty is important to good, lasting friendships. So what he doesn’t understand, is why it always seems to bite him in the ass.
With Techno, Wilbur, hell, even Tubbo has been added to the list of people who’ve betrayed him. And- he just- he knows Tubbo had good reason for it. He knows that Dream is a bitch to deal with, and that he forced Tubbo’s hand. He knows that.
Doesn’t make it hurt any less.
Thomas Innit prays before his meals. Prays when in trouble, in pain. Prays whenever he feels someone might answer, might help him. He gets down on his knees in exile, and he begs for help. He sobs and he pleads and he calls.
Nobody ever answered.
Not his friends, not his family, and certainly not his god. At this point, Tommy prays more out of habit then devolution. His hands reflexively clap together, pointing upwards. He automatically says the words, burnt into his mind when he actually believed someone would care enough to hear.
Dream is a total bitch. This is something he repeats to himself daily. Its more a prayer then his actual calls to Prime. Because, if Dream isn’t a bitch, that means he is. That means that he’s overreacting, just wanting to find a reason to hate Dream. Lying to himself.
Tommy has lied before, don’t get him wrong. He has lied and stole and been a annoyance on purpose. But, the thing about those times, is that he was fine. He wasn’t paranoid enough where he loses sleep. His body didn’t flinch whenever someone raised a hand to greet him. He never shuttered whenever near a one block wide hole before. And he certainly wasn’t this afraid to be alone.
Thomas Innit has always needed people, in some way. Needed someone around, to assure he wasn’t in the dead silence of the world. He loves the background noise of people talking, loves being able to add to it whenever he wanted without ridicule.
Exile was so dead, so quiet, so almost always just him and his thoughts. And when it wasn’t, it was somehow worse. Dream yelling at him, telling him to put his stuff in the hole.
“Tommy, stop praying,” Dream had said once, on the rare occasion they ate together. “Aren’t you happy, Tommy? The only god around is me.”
That night, Dream made him ‘sacrifice’ half his plate to him, leaving him with even less food then before. Tommy wanted to save that for his god, but Dream told him he was more important then any god Tommy thought up. Tommy got the very tempting urge to smash his plate over Dream’s head.
Tommy prays to a god, but it is a unkind god. One that may only answer him by showing him just how worse his life can get. To prove that he is gracious, to give Tommy such a life when things could be even worse for him.
Tommy prays, then slams his balled hands on his dining table, grabs his fork, and stabs into his steak with such power it could be a sacrifice.
Tommy prefers to think of it as a parting gift.