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“Oh this is just real unfortunate,” Techno has time to tell Chat and then he’s running.
A dense, low-branch forest, rich troves of underbrush, heart in his ears – the sound of snapping twigs as he tears through whatever’s in his way, momentum and weight letting him brute-force most obstacles and weave between trees- not fast enough, not yet. Every time he thinks he’s made good distance- and c’mon it’s not like he can hear what’s chasing him at all, that thing’s dead silent- every time, he’ll chance a glance backwards and sometimes Chat will see it first and starts screaming at him, before he even spots how devastatingly close the thing’s keeping up.
And distance in a fight is key, distance and good terrain, and right now he’s got neither- he’s got neither, not with that lunatic dropping out of the trees, green on green, and it’s very much shaping up to be a fight, it really is, he’s a good sprinter, he can keep this going until they at least break into planes or literally anything but this, where your sword’s just asking to lodge into a 200 year old oak. But if it’s keeping up now, who knows that its endurance is like, and in most cases fighting solves problems faster, especially when you have no plans on keeping close company with whatever it is you’re planning to kill- Techno projects all this barely legible, manic nonsense at Chat who quickly switch gear from panic to a steady chant for blood-
Distance and terrain, distance and terrain, all that matters.
The trees thin- through dodging and jerking gaps Techno spots open skies and rolling hills- thin branches snap and scratch at his snout and make him duck lower, draw his sword, and as Techno runs out of the trees, he spins around.
The thing makes it out of the forest a beat later, Techno swings on that same momentum.
What surprises him is the sound of metal on metal- his sword connects with armor- “Ha!” he screams a bit deliriously and watches the thing stagger on its own speed, trip- realizes it’s human-shaped and thank heavens for that- and then he’s running again.
Terrain issue fixed, Techno sprints down a hill on strides too wide, beginning to grin as he hooks bottles off his belt- “Blood for the Blood God!” he screams, twists, and pitches the vials at lush green grass-
They shatter, go up in a cloud of flare fumes, and feel like a swooping fall as energy floods him- Techno spots his- no longer ‘pursuer’ but rather target now, and sprints.
Now for the distance.
Techno runs in a wide circle around the thing- it’s shaping up to be a human now, not just human-shaped. It’s wearing armor, he realizes, outside of the forest’s shade and the constant movement of a chase. Human, tall but obscured under a sleek and downright evil looking set of netherite- and then a cloak over it. Under the cloak’s hem Techno spots the very edge of a grand axe- Chat, this is what you call a fool’s ambush Techno projects into the link and starts at the figure, at the very last second changing his angle:
And rightly so. This bastard had had the genius idea to try and catch Techno off guard, swinging up an axe from the cover of his cloak. Technoblade however is even more of a genius and effortlessly dodges the weapon with a wide enough berth to be embarrassing for his opponent.
It opens him no window of opportunity: that netherite looks serious business, and hamming away at it will take forever. But! Never the pessimist, Techno still puts his bestest effort into the slash, hoping to at least chink the armor.
There’s an overwhelming clang, and Techno speeds away, distance, distance, distance, Chat, it’s all about distance. He catches a glimpse of the figure staggering, and can’t help but chortle, muttering “EZ,” and pivoting for another charge.
Potions make his motions piston-fast and efficient, almost like dance, and he’s running again- this time his opponent tries to side-step, using Techno’s own speed against him and upsetting his accuracy, but Techno’s been fighting like this forever, he knows the weak points of his own artform.
Techno drops down, one leg stuck out in front of him and hoof digging into the soil to almost completely still his momentum- other bent at the knee and ready to spring him back up in a new direction- sword ready, he redirects his lunge and manages to shove the blade upwards at the joint of chestplate to stomach piece-
The tip lodges, and Techno puts his entire weight into it, like a crowbar into a doorframe- he needs to deliver the hit and make distance again before his opponent has the time to land a hit.
There’s a creaking, but the armor is built well and the chestplate doesn’t pop open, all in a matter of seconds Techno knows he has to abandon this because the corner of his eye in slow motion catches an incoming swing-
Techno ducks- withdrawing his sword- bit of a bad go, because during his efforts to get away, he feels the moment an axe makes shattering contact with his upper arm.
It hurts like a dull bruise at first, as he sways off and sprints away, and then finally echoes louder in sharp bursts of pain to match ever pump of his arms as he runs. Fast glance: his armor’s intact, and this form can take a few more hits than his human, so it’s all good, it’s all good, Chat. He needs a breather and to reassess the armor’s weak points. So as Techno pivots, he reaches over his shoulder for the handle of a crossbow.
This usually catches his opponents into a neat little surprise, Techno smirks, aims, and pulls the trigger.
Seeing fireworks explode this close to the ground had been startling the first few times. But after the initial shock all it does is bloom pride and elation into his chest, where they mix with battle adrenaline and the pump of magic through his bloodstream.
Reds crackle through the air – a fine day, open blue skies, a field that surely hasn’t seen anything explode in quite a while-
Before the fizzle and snap of red can even finish its natural lighting fast course, a hatchet blade cuts through it in a beautiful arch directly at Techno.
He doesn’t have time to get his sword or duck- his crossbow arm goes for the block, and the thwack of metal into wood is accompanied by the snap of string- his fucking crossbow string- Techno takes an involuntary step backward to compensate for the hatchet’s hit- that thing was out to behead.
“HEH?” Techno barks out- sparing one wide-eyed stare at the wrecked almost halved crossbow with now a hatchet proudly lodged in it- and that one baffled action already costs him precious seconds.
His opponent comes through the firework smoke, axe in the process of winding up for a snapping chop.
He’s about Techno’s height, so it’s a big swing, and it’s just enough time for Techno to avoid eating garbage.
He chucks his crossbow and rolls as the axe comes down in a swing-
Techno rolls- armor edges upturning tufts of soil and grass- and for just a moment he sees the axe had been swung down wrong, almost flat side down- what the hell- he picks himself back up, and starts running- this time the thing’s running after him, its reflective white smiley imprinted and stamped in afterimage over and over across the horizon.
“Okay Chat, here’s your content of the month,” Techno grits out, zigzagging, zigzagging, zigzagging, until he pivots, sword ready, and clashes into his pursuer, metal blade to armor plate as the guy throws up one arm, blocking the hit- Techno sees where the metal dents- and then feels the hilt of an axe slam into his side, courtesy of his opponents other, unaccounted-for arm.
Pain is secondary- Techno grabs a fistful of the cloak and pulls down. It’s what you get for picking aesthetic over practicality, noob moment.
It’s attached to the guy’s shoulders and tips his balance. Techno finally manages to inhale after the side hit and swings with his sword again, going for the helmet, hoping to stun.
It connects on the side of the helmet, clipping the edge of what turns out to be, up close, a circular mask strapped overtop. Techno’s sword slamming into its material doesn’t send cracks, but it cuts into its edge and shoots out a few shards of white- at the same time, Techno’s feet are kicked out from under him.
He falls- heavily and badly, jarring his shoulder when his arm braces the plummet- and the guy stumbles back, resetting his own balance- and Techno’s already rolling.
Distance.
Distance will fix the fight.
Chat’s thrum has been a constant for many battles and feels very much integral to the experience, but as Techno picks himself back up heavily and attempts to regain ground, there’s a hush. A question that breaks through the chant of ‘careful’ and of ‘L’ and of cheer: is that Dream.
Techno doesn’t much recognize the name, except for the vague fact he’s probably heard it before.
What he recognizes is ‘Dream’s prepping to throw another hatchet, and Techno can’t help but bare his teeth and shout, “What’s your problem, man?” There’s no answer, just the fast whip of a hatchet cutting across to him, and Techno knocks it out of the air with his sword, not even bothering to dodge, “DUDE.”
No answer, not for a good few seconds, and then comes the muffled shout back: “Shift.”
For a second Techno thinks the guy’s swearing, it’s hard to hear, really, but when an axe points at him from head to toe and back, accompanied by the command to shift again, he catches up.
“Chat, the frequency with which people try to ruin my days is unbelievable,” Techno mutters under his breath, “Now, sometimes peace is an option but I don’t want to grant it to this nerd.” and then he once more charges at an angle, running a circle around the figure who prepares to defend-
Techno underhand throws a weakness potion, and the moment it shatters under the feet of his unfortunate opponent, Techno pivots sharply and charges straight, using the particle cloud as his greatest ally-
He swings, and there just isn’t anyone there.
It takes only a second- too late, still, but he realizes Dream had crouched. In anticipation of a swing- and as he springs up even through the effects of a weakness potion, he’s got Techno’s center of gravity under impact- and it’s harder to topple Techno in this form, it really is, and this goddamn… This… Dream goes and-
Goes and hits Techno’s chestplate with his shoulder, aiming up and through, and Techno swings at him still even as he’s already falling, sword slamming into Dream’s side, another clang- he lands and rolls, and Dream staggers from the hit, and then charges at Techno-
Knocks him over again, halfway to standing, and Techno’s not a fan of close quarters brawling, not a fan at all, grits his teeth and kicks out at Dream with both legs as he’s thrown onto his back- Hits him with one, into the outer junction of leg to hip, manages to throw Dream off him, but hears the shouted command again: Shift. And he scrambles for purchase along the grass, going to stand again- Dream closes the distance once more, kicks him down, and Techno in anger swings his sword at the other’s ankles.
Dirty move, but survival isn’t for saints.
The armor gives.
The first slash just breaks the armor piece there, doesn’t actually cut, but Techno shouts in triumph, immediately going to swing again- projecting at Chat: this is why old myths are important, and then Dream jumps.
Jumps just in time the swing misses his bare ankle, and- he lands on Techno’s sword, steps on it, and alright that sucks- Techno wrenches his sword, it doesn’t budge, and Dream’s other foot is connecting with his snout.
It’s been a hot second since he’d been kicked in the snout, it hurts like hell, the stinging, ugly type of pain, and he can feel where the armored pieces cut into the side of his face, now trailing blood down- he realizes his vision’s blurry, wet, and if Dream had meant to kill him, he would’ve finished Techno off right there and then-
He manages a bleary hateful glance at where the figure looms- and high-kicks up from lying on his back.
Dream’d been leaning down a tad bit. Big mistake. Techno’s hoof connects with the side of his helmet and sends him stumbling away, the perfect opportunity to once more right this weird encounter’s direction and win.
Techno exhales forcefully to clear the blood out of his snout- it’s worse than in human form. Sword back in his grip. Whatever. This is fine.
He charges again. Signature move, spring, jump, and cut downwards-
Dream parries. On time and too well, like he’d seen it coming- his axe comes up to block the sword, and Techno has to land, knock into Dream, their blades slide and grind, and for a second he’s certain a spark flies- who is this. Techno knees him, Dream dodges that too, roundhouses at Techno’s middle- Techno catches his leg instead- (Chat cheers by the way)- and Dream growls somewhere behind his helmet and mask, and yanks backward with all his weight, purposefully falling back and pulling Techno with him.
Techno lets go on instinct, prevents falling right onto Dream where a dagger could very much be waiting- Dream rolls- okay this is taking a ridiculous amount of time, really, who does this guy think he is, oh man why’s he good too? Fast and smart, and if he’s panicking then Techno can’t see it. Terrible, just real terrible, Chat, all this, terrible- Techno exhales blood again, and wipes his snout with the side of his fist.
“Stop making this difficult,” Dream shouts at him. “Shift.”
“No way, man,” Techno shouts back, cause what the hell, like he’s gonna follow orders after all this. “You walk away or you die,” and he decides to wing it for the extra intimidation factor. “So walk away, Dream.”
There’s visible surprise there, in the straightening of shoulders, the weirdest most inhuman sideways cock of that smiley face as it tilts in a clockwork way. “You remember me?”
And Techno doesn’t. Just stands there teeth bared, breathing through his mouth. To Chat he mutters, “Do you?”
Most pour in with ‘no clue’, but here and there Techno begins to catch the thread of something else. Five or so people manage to recollect: he’d fought Dream in some tournament.
“Did he even make it to third?” Techno mutters, and chat unanimously tells him: no.
Techno rolls his shoulders, resetting his armor and posture, “Then what’s he this good for?” and runs again.
Dream dodges, Techno expects him to and tries to hit him again, and Dream somehow expects that and goes to roll away. It’s annoying and it’s a waste of energy and it’s not like any fight Techno’s had in a while. Phil comes close, predicting Techno’s moves well enough to block each one, but they don’t fight often. And Techno knows Phil’s moves.
Dream’s more than a stranger, Dream’s someone he wishes he’d never met back then and didn’t meet at all now. Their blades connect again, Dream ricocheting Techno’s sword off with an upwards axe swing. Barely sprints away before he goes back in, hoping that the pace will aid him, give Dream less time to recover- Dream parries him, and he parries him well, fast and efficient and skilled, and Techno would’ve loved to watch this mastership unfold in any setting but this. Anywhere that isn’t direct conflict. Anywhere, where it- he sees another opening, a chance to go at Dream’s ankles again.
Dream dances away from him- twisting on the foot that’s still protected, and while Techno attempts to duck away, kicking at him-
It lands, metal on metal, doesn’t hurt much- Techno scrambles away on all fours to prevent falling- stands back up and runs again.
He’s feeling the potions start to ebb, and he’s been at this for a while, breathing hard, feeling sweat drench fur under his armor, still smelling his own blood, heart hammering and beginning to feel like a dumb animal in a mud pit it can’t scale the slopes of. Desperate for something to happen. Desperate for purchase. He hates brawling, but he needs to get rid of that armor.
He hopes Dream is human. He hopes that if he can disarm him and peel off his helmet, his chestplate, he’ll see a normal human, and then he can win. Techno – without weapons – is still better. Tusks, sharp-enough hoofs and fingertips. Brutality. He’s got that on his side too.
“There’s no other option,” He grits out to Chat, running again to make enough distance and break another potion- he’ll run out soon, he hadn’t been geared for something like this- a normal fight? Easy. Easy clap. No problem. Wouldn’t even need a potion. Wouldn’t even break a sweat-
Dream’s running at him.
For the first time, Dream’s taking the running attack, and Techno hates himself for maybe, on utter accident, revealing just how bad he hates this fight. If it’d given Dream even a morsel (he shatters the potion and prepares to brace against Dream) confidence or ego or belief that he has a chance of winning over Techno… well that just won’t do.
The enemy can’t see you weak.
So Techno smiles.
It works, Dream’s run slows, becomes more calculated as Techno watches magic particles finish their fizzing route through the air.
And then Dream gets there and Techno fakes out, steps back, dodges one swing, blocks another, tries to kick at Dream’s ankles but it’d put him in too much danger- all he has to do, is wait until the axe is safe to grab and wrench out of Dream’s hand.
He manages another blow to the helmet, another chip in the mask, Dream kicks his knee at a bad angle, makes Techno lose his balance for a moment, and realizes running directly after won’t do him good- he stabs his sword into the ground, gets Dream’s helmet in both hands and yanks down.
Down in the direction of his unharmed knee.
He hears the shatter of something, feels the pain of kicking up into a hard surface, falls backward as Dream goes staggering away, groaning, hands to his still helmeted but no longer masked face- its shards lie on the floor, one big half-circle piece, the rest all but little triangles-
Techno stumbles and tries to get distance. “The axe plan’s difficult, Chat, don’t rush it.” But it sounds like grasping at straws to his own ears.
Dream’s running again.
Techno spits blood and runs too.
Maskless, the helmet still reveals nothing- albeit maybe that if Techno aims well enough, he can throw pocket sand directly into its thin opening. Chat echoes with a wave of dumb plan dumb plan and Techno grits his teeth, zig-zags, and looks for anything even slightly more sensible. Maybe pearling away is becoming more and more of a-
Dream throws something at him again- Techno never learns what it was but it trips him up, sends him scrambling up a hill on all fours and reaching for the smooth round salvation of a pearl.
The moment he hits the hill’s crest, Techno jumps and with all the momentum of his plummet launches the pearl somewhere away from Dream. The few seconds it takes to blinks off into the distance and finally shatter, Techno’s already running-
There’s the feeling of having all air carved out of your lungs, the stab of a headache as everything tilts for a moment and his balance slips- the scenery barely shifts, it’s still the same sky and the same hills, but when Techno chances a glance over his shoulder, Dream’s not there.
“Chat, th-”
When he looks back ahead, he sees the straightfast shot of a pearl plummeting through the air.
Techno grabs another and throws his own into the opposite direction.
He only gets to hear the sound of Dream’s pearl hitting the ground when he’s falling again through one step and the next, vertigo, like his mind’s taking a second to catch up with his body, and then it’s the same landscape again, imperceptibly shifted to point Techno in a new direction, and he once more runs- pearls are finite-
Dream’s pearl hits the ground somewhere far behind, and Techno gets ready to throw his own again, winds his arm back, and uses his next sprinting step as a boost. Throws it so hard he feels it pull something in his side. Anything to get distance.
His pearl is joined in the air by an arrow.
Intercepted-
Techno has time to bark out something barely legible and reach for another pearl so maybe it’ll stagger his fall- the ground is yanked out from under him-
He reappears in the air, where his pearl’d been shattered into a rain of green, and he goes to throw another at the ground so it saves him the fall- it’s all so fast Chat barely manages to get a word in, the new pearl falls, Techno falls too, and then combined with the stomach-pitting feeling of freefall, he’s hit by the disorienting vertigo of teleportation-
He’s at the wrong angle to immediately run again- lands the way he’d been falling, rolls, head splitting with a headache, dribbling blood-
The sound of fast, efficient footsteps.
Techno readies a dagger and takes a moment to get his breath, fix the disorienting echoes of a bad pearl, and wait. He coughs, head hanging down, snout almost brushing the grass. Biding his time, he hopes it makes a pitiful enough sight Dream’s guard will be at least a little lowered. “Patience, Chat, patience.”
It’s only a few seconds, and then Dream’s in his periphery.
Techno quits the charade of weakness and lashes out with his blade, to where he remembers a chip in Dream’s armor.
He doesn’t miss.
He’d gone for a slashing attack, but combined with the awkward angle and Dream’s not yet finished run cycle, the blade instead lodges.
All it is is unprotected skin there, only covered by the helpless layer of a sock, and Techno’s dagger stabs through on genuinely unintentional accident- not clean through the joint but deep enough to be wrenched clean of Techno’s grasp when Dream shouts and trips.
Now the playing field is far more fun to stay on- Techno launches up, momentarily hit by vertigo, and throws himself over to where Dream’s just hit the ground. His first target’s the axe- Dream rolls with his ankle in the air, leaving a trail of blood through the grass- Techno grabs the axe and on fast springlock instinct frisbees it away. See? See? The axe plan was okay- Chat chants for blood.
Next, he needs to knock Dream out before the other has time to do anything past the preliminary shock of pain.
Techno climbs onto him and begins the arduous process of prying the helmet off Dream-
Dream slams his hand in something between a slap and a punch into the side of Techno’s head- knees him and tilts them to pitch Techno off, Techno coughs out a breath and now they’re scrabbling on the grass-
He launches his fingers into the slit of Dream’s helmet, grabs on, and just shakes him, feeling Dream’s head knock into the back of the helmet before it also knocks into the front, sweaty forehead against Techno’s knuckles. Dream kicks him again, and Techno realizes it’s with the stabbed leg- he won’t be surprised to find out this man’s on cocaine.
His heartbeat seems off-pace, confused with Chat’s rhythmic demand for blood and irregular screams of failure. Dream wrenches his helmet out of Techno’s grasp, Techno winds up and slams the side of his fist down on Dream’s stomach armor places to try and knock the breath out of him. Dream grabs his ear.
Techno screams at him, something between a HEY- and a sound that isn’t words as Dream pulls, yanks down at it, and it feels like he might straight-up rip it off- Techno grabs Dream’s cape and throws it over his head, cutting off all sight- other hand grabbing at Dream’s wrist to stop the impending doom of losing an ear. As they roll, something cracks- the sound of it makes Dream let go and Techno’s ear burns- potions on Dream’s belt had broken under their weight, dousing the water in fizzling chemical. Techno feels a rush of adrenaline and only after a moment realizes it must be potions at work-
One hand over his ear still, Techno goes for Dream’s helmet again.
Dream’s throw the cape off- Techno dodges a punch- they’re still on the ground. Techno steps his entire weight into the knee he’s got on Dream’s stomach- Dream kicks his back again, sharp armor boot jabbing in between armor plates-
Dream lands another hit on him, Techno punches his helmet, hopes it’s loud, hopes it hurts.
And then he reaches back and grabs the dagger still in Dream’s ankle-
There’s a moment where a tug of war pauses their movements, the bone and cartilage of Dream’s foot and the grip Techno’s got on the knife.
It comes free and Dream doesn’t make a sound.
Instead he hits Techno’s snout again, head-on and hard, and Techno thinks: fuck it.
Chat explodes in gasps and outrage and excitement at the word. Techno’s got both hands around the dagger’s hilt now. He’s sending that thing into the helmet slit. That’s it. That’s it. Enough.
He straddles Dream, splattering blood from his snout along Dream’s chestplate, neckpiece, the bottom of his helmet- ignores Dream’s punches into his gut, Dream’s wriggling, and raises the dagger.
Dream quits hitting him- braces to catch the blade. Won’t matter. Techno’s got weight on his side, got momentum, and he’s got the indescribable amount of done that he is with the fight.
He stabs down.
Dream was feigning. The raised arms that for a split second looked ready to intercept instead shoot up as Dream wrenches his entire upper body sideways, dodging the dagger’s trajectory and letting it skid off the side of his helmet and into the dirt-
Stabbing down with both arms sends Techno too within range of too much bullshit – Chat roils – and Dream grabs fistfuls of Techno’s hair.
It’s an admittedly stupid move. Because Techno still has the knife and the upper hand- but Dream grabs him, shakes him twice, and yanks him sideways, off. They fall over, roll again- Techno prepares to do something- anything with the dagger- Dream’s now over him, one knee on Techno’s chest, other braced in the soil, glass shards wedged between the armor plates on his thigh-
Techno can see some sort of attack incoming, doesn’t care, doesn’t matter- if a glass shard from a bottle can fit between the plating there, so can a knife. Techno stabs up between two scales of netherite just as Dream lashes against the side of his face in a clawed slap.
Techno’s head whips sideways in instinctive desire to escape the stinging pain of four cuts left by armor gauntlets, but if anything, it makes him only stab his dagger in sharper. The angle wont get him anywhere near a deep cut but- Dream hisses, hits him again. Techno sees spots. And then there are hands on his neck.
Techno snaps his teeth. Jerks upward against the choke to snarl at the Dream’s forearms- decides to go on the offensive while he has time- slips the dagger loose, streaked with blood, and goes to try at the helmet slit again.
The spots multiply, his head feels fuzzy, but Techno stabs up.
It’s very human to jerk back from anything going at your face. Dream falls victim too.
He sharply sways backwards, away from the dagger, doesn’t let Techno’s neck go, pulls him along too- And then using the momentum of the sway, once Techno’s dagger is out of the way, slams Techno back down into the ground.
The last thing Techno registers is sharp, echoing pain in the back of Techno’s skull.
His mouth tastes like blood. Chat slowly filters back in, three becoming a dozen, a dozen becoming a hundred. They’re hard to tell apart for a moment, but most complain about stream issues.
“Refresh your page,” Techno groans, going to sit up, and then there’s an axe as his throat.
It all catches up to him.
Dream stands over him, axe pointed at Techno’s jugular. Most of his weight is on one leg only. His belt is lined with the necks of bottles that got broken off… Probably losing him all his health potions. Good.
Techno realizes most of his own armor is gone. A quick scan reveals it in a pile, a good chunk away. He’s lying there in his sweat-soaked shirt and pants, smeared in grass.
“Don’t try anything,” Dream says and it sounds like his nose might be broken, “I’ll kill you.”
Techno blinks, and with every squint feels the pull at the side of his face where Dream slashed lines into his skin. Now clumping with dried blood, it makes every expression sour.
“Bro what is your problem.” Techno rasps.
“My problem?” Dream screams at him and the axe wavers. “MY problem.” There has to be something wrong with his nose. There’s also blood running down from the helmet slit, making it seems like the armor set’s crying. “Why- who stabs ankles.”
“Like I had any choice.” Techno scowls, feeling cold and too easily stabbable right now. Chat runs nonsense in the back of his head, lesser in numbers now that Techno’d interrupted the connection by knocking out. “Who chases strangers down in the woods.”
Dream pauses. “Shift. Shift forms. I know you can. I need you to shift.”
Techno feels his fur rise, “That’s cringe. I’m not doing that.”
“I’ll let you go.”
“I don’t believe that.”
“Better than the other option,” Dream tips his axe up a tiny bit. Cold metal brushes Techno’s chin.
Silence. The sky is dipping into sunset.
“Chat, this individual…” Techno shoots a glare at Dream and then looks away, listening to his head. Chat shuffles in their small numbers and throw around his options, tearing into them, saying shifting’s stupid or saying it’s his only option.
Techno sighs and lets his head drop back onto the grass. It makes the back of his skull whine like a bruise. His ear still burns. His breaths wheeze out past clotted blood. Something’s up with about half of his total joints.
Dream doesn’t look too much better. There’s blood seeping out from under some of his armor plates. He’s unsteady. Techno for a moment thinks: I could take him.
Chat cuts in to remind: he’d thought that for most of the fight before this.
Techno blinks up at the sky and has to agree.
He doesn’t want to have to fight Dream in any form but this. It’d be… It’d be more of a disadvantage than he’s already at. If he gets out of this alive, Dream’s over with.
Techno closes his eyes, relaxes the corded stress in his chest, arms, core, legs, and lets himself sink into the grass. It’s cold. It’s really, really cold.
His bones move, it’s like peeling a sticker off a surface but full-body and directionless, just a sense of something detaching slowly and universally and reforming. The pain follows, morphs, assumes the shape of human ears and a human nose and a human knee and ankle and shoulder, and settles in that same bruising ache in the back of his now human skull.
He has to exhale slowly. It feels like hitting a reset and being all at once reminded of where everything hurts.
Chat mourns and cheers in a nearly clean division: half for it, half against.
Techno opens his eyes.
The sky’s gotten darker. The axe is gone from his neck.
“Happy?” Techno lifts himself just barely off the ground, elbow creakily bending back to support his weight. “You happy? Can I go now?” His voice sounds different when it’s spoken through different anatomy. Sounds angrier, honestly.
Dream’s standing there, axe lowered. Techno can hear a heartbeat in his swollen ear. He’s breathing too hard now just in general hatred.
After a moment the axe goes stabbing down into the soil. And then Dream’s hands go reaching up to click the hidden latches of a crying helmet.
It’s removed, gracelessly and with the jerky motions of someone in equal pain. The thing dribbles sweat mixed with blood, but under it reveals an equally damp, blood-obscured face.
Dream is human. His hair had once been tied up, now coming down in a curtain of sweat over his forehead and brow. His nose does look bent, slathering bright red arterial blood down over his lips and chin and stubble. They stare at each other.
Techno whispers, barely mouthing it under his breath, “Chat, what’s going on.”
They ripple with ‘awkward, awkward, awkward, awkward’ and ‘yeah I think that’s actually him.’
As Dream reaches a hand up to wipe the hair out of his eyes, Techno whispers in desperation: who?
“You don’t remember me, do you?” Dream asks. He sounds very well-meaning when he isn’t muffled and hidden between two layers of menace and malintent. It’s off putting. “Honestly- hm.” And Dream smiles a little, looking away like he’s rolling his eyes, almost shy. It’s really weird. “Honestly that’s- That’s not that bad, I don’t know what I expected-”
“You almost tore my ear off-”
“So now I can make like a better first impression.” Dream finishes, completely talking over him, now both hands on the axe hilt, leaning on it. “You um- we met at a tournament a few years ago, I’ve been meaning to track you down but since you looked-” he pauses and gestures lightly at Techno, “Like this back then, it took a while.”
Techno slowly curls his legs to his body to start sitting up, movements careful and slow, feeling like he’s witnessing the monologue of someone deeply off the rails.
“But I finally found you!” Dream beams at him. God is something wrong with this man. “Technoblade.”
Techno has to seriously consider how easy it might be to die right now if he accidentally upsets Dream. “If you were looking for a good first impression…” He mutters, grunting as he finally sits up straight, feeling everything whine. God had a battle not gotten him this bad for a century if not more now. Nothing’s gotten him this bad. Holy hell. He swallows his words when Chat formulates something that’s been knocking around in the back of Techno’s head for a while:
Dream’s good.
A hand appears in his periphery. Offering to pull him up. The conversation’s rollercoaster dip is giving Techno whiplash but he accepts. He’s all about gamer manners, at the end of the day… He’s not about to hit Dream with a ‘good game’ but he’ll meet him in the middle.
Dream pulls. It hurts Techno’s side, the jut of Dream’s gauntlets bites into Techno’s human palm. It sucks. But he’s on his feet soon enough-
He has to quickly counterbalance because Dream stumbles on his bloody ankle. Chat whispers: you killed him at a tournament a few times, said something about his technique. Looks like he’d gotten good.
Too good.
After too long studying war in theory and then experiencing it in practice, Techno can’t help but feel the haunting truth creep up on him: befriend those that can come close to defeating you.
So he doesn’t let go of Dream’s hand and pulls him back over, so neither fall. Dream’s a tad taller, smiles too wide, the type of grin that flashes every single tooth and the entire perimeter of his gums.
“Could’ve just asked if I was Techno.” He grumbles, finally letting go and stepping back. Not a huge fan of being armorless next to an armored Dream. At least now he’s sure he could outrun him.
“There’s impersonators out there.” Dream smiles, and then snorts, “Less now, that I’ve challenged them to fights.”
It gets a laugh out of Techno too after which he has to turn away and spit blood, “Thanks for that I guess.”
After a beat of silence, Dream snorts blood back into his nose and asks, “Do you have health potions?”
And Techno’s never gotten this much enjoyment out of saying, “No.”
Another beat. Sunset finally crawls the rest of its way across the sky, all around purple and orange. Techno eyes his netherite in the distance. Knows he’ll have to go find his goddamn sword.
Dream speaks up again with that offputtingly positive attitude of someone who doesn’t register awkward social interactions, “I’ll buy you dinner if you help me walk back to the village.”
“You can trade me diamonds,” Techno counters and sighs, “And gold. A lot of it.”
“As compensation.”
“As compensation.” Techno agrees with a wincing smile and limps over to where Dream’s waiting for a shoulder to lean on.
It goes against a lot of what Techno has to say about the importance of keeping distance, but hey every situation has nuance.