Chapter Text
“Techno! I can walk! You saw me walk, like, two minutes ago.”
“Eh, I would describe that as more of a hobble. A shuffle, perhaps.”
Techno lowered Dream, gently, onto the mattress. After spending three months in a prison cell with the kid, he’s gotten quite used to carrying him. Admittedly, his old roommate was getting around much better than he did before. One-legged, weak, and unable to pluck himself off of the obsidian floor, Dream was limited to dragging himself across the cell. The new prosthetic definitely helped.
But it was shoddy, wooden, and clearly painful. Dream’s limp was evidence of that.
Dream’s chat– a kaleidoscope of vibrant butterflies– gathered around Techno’s shoulders and crown. Some landed on the prosthetic leg while others perched on the various, elaborate edges of his netherite armor. They didn’t pound their feet or ram into Techno’s face, so they clearly weren’t too upset with him about their owner’s handling. As Dream hit the bed, they scattered across the room, decorating the space with color. The room was only dimly lit with candles and a lantern in the corner, but the light reflected off their wings, creating an iridescent effect. It made Techno want to add more paintings and statues to the room– he’ll miss these blossoms of color when they leave.
Techno helped Dream prop himself up against the headrest, allowing him to sit upright with some pillows at his back for support. Techno sat beside him, barely able to fit the bulk of his body in the tiny space. But he knew his old roommate, and he knew that having a familiar presence nearby might be helpful for what’s to come.
“Alright,” Philza’s voice sounded from beside them. He set a medical pack on the nightstand before sitting on the end of the bed, near Dream’s feet. “I gotta say, mate, my first impression of this new leg of yours isn’t good.”
Dream huffed out a breath. “It does its job.”
“I’m sure it does.” Slowly, his hand landed on Dream’s good knee. It was the only one fully armored– it looked as though the knee guard wouldn’t fit on the prosthetic. “Let’s get this armor off first, and then I want to take a look at your legs. Surely there’s a better solution to this than a wooden peg.”
Dream shed his armor with minimal complaints. Techno helped him with his breastplate, shoulderguard, and cloak. Each of them were elegantly crafted pieces, hand-tailored to fit his torso and decorated to match his butterfly companions. As it was peeled away, it left Dream looking even smaller than he normally did. He’s definitely gained some muscle since his time in the Vault, but it wasn’t enough. As the wrappings that coated his lower body were removed, they revealed an elaborate mess of scars and stitches across his skin. They healed in various stages; some were already faded to white while others were still pinkish and swollen. Some were wide and left an indent in Dream’s muscle– they should’ve been stitched long ago. Even his missing finger seemed to have closed in an odd way.
Philza’s eyes scanned along them, brows furrowed. If these wounds weren’t healed correctly, chances were high that the amputated leg wasn’t either.
“I just don’t get it. All this beautiful armor, and then a wooden leg?” Phil wrapped his hands around the prosthetic. The wood was sturdy and strong, but its end was already worn and splintered from rubbing against the ground. He explored its edges with his fingertips– it wasn’t actually the worst prosthetic in the world. It had a bendable joint and an extender, giving Dream some level of control over its movement. But it had a single speed and no lockability, meaning that Dream would have to keep his weight on the good leg when he’s standing still. “Who made this for you?”
“I made it,” Dream answered with no lack of pride. “I needed something to get me around.”
Phil twisted its base, and it slid off the stump of Dream’s leg. A small, protective, black sleeve remained, and when it was peeled away, it revealed an inflamed and definitely painful amputation.
“This prosthetic is going to kill you,” Phil replied.
Dream’s eyes widened and blinked, but he quickly composed himself. “Well… Okay, I get that it isn’t… the best. I’m not– I’m not good at redstone, I couldn’t make anything nice. But it won’t kill me.”
“It will. Dream,” Phil examined the end of the stump leg. Parts of it were swollen, others felt raw. “You can’t run with this. You’re already limping, and it’s only going to get worse as you keep using it. It’s hurting you. You’re disturbing the injury, there’s no grip, no traction–” Phil’s tone quickened as he entered a rant, “You’ll slip. And not only that, but you’re putting too much pressure on your good leg. You’re going to wear it down as well, and then you won’t be able to walk at all.”
Dream’s face gained a pinkish hue, and his eyes darted to the side.
Phil turned his attention instead to Dream’s good leg. His anatomy was typical of a dragon hybrid– rather than a human foot, Dream had a long, thin, talon-like foot that was covered in beautiful white scales. Thick, sandpaper-like pads protected his toes from the ground below, and long black claws grew from the tips of each. Dream flinched as Phil took it in his hands. Experimentally, the older man stretched its joints and applied a bit of pressure to different parts of his arch. When he pressed his thumbs in a spot between his toe pads, Dream grimaced and hissed in pain.
“That hurts?” Phil asked him, lessening the pressure.
“It– Yes.”
“Okay. I don’t think a compression sock would suit you, but maybe I have a sleeve I can cut to fit? Or we can wrap bands around it? You most likely sprained it, mate. You’re putting way, way too much weight on it. You shouldn’t be walking until both the sprain and the amputation wound heal.” Phil gently squeezed at each toe pad and was glad to see that none of them seemed to spark a pain response. As he did so, Dream’s claws poked at his hands. “And your claws need cut.”
Techno was sitting still and quiet the whole time, but he couldn’t help but snort at the way Dream’s face turned a deep red.
Both of the former cellmates had an interesting time in the Vault, given their unique anatomies. Dream was constantly scraping his claws against the obsidian in an attempt to file them down while Techno grinded his tusks against the wall. Tusks never stop growing– they need to be trimmed down at least twice a year, and if they aren’t, they can loop around and impale the eye or another spot on the skull. The grinding alone may have been enough to hold them both over, if not for the fact that Sam hated the sound. When Techno escaped, Phil had to break out the bolt cutter and clip them back.
When Phil took a pair of clippers from his medical pack, the butterflies that were resting around the room took flight, clouding the air.
Their wings fluttered and collided, sounding like a harsh rustling of leaves. Like a blizzard, they obscured Techno’s vision, and he could only see pieces of the other two men in the room between flashes of dazzling color.
“Wait– wait! Wait, let’s… let’s just–” Dream’s voice, raised and panicked, broke through the confusion, “Let’s talk about it, please. I won’t… I won’t walk. I won’t walk. You don’t have to do anything, I just won’t walk if you tell me not to. What–Whatever you say.”
“Whoa– Dream, dude, relax–” Techno felt as Dream propelled his bodyweight backwards, pushing himself as hard as he could against the headrest. He wrapped an arm around his shoulders, comfortingly, like he always used to in the cell. “Phil cut my tusks back too, alright? Remember how long they were? He’s gonna help you, not take a toe off.”
“Dream,” Phil sounded calm and steady, “I put the clippers down, mate. Calm down a second so you can see.”
As Dream managed a few deep breaths, the swarm of butterflies slowed, some of them landing along the walls and furniture. More and more, the image of Philza across the room, with his hands splayed and empty and the clippers laying untouched beside him on the mattress, became visible.
All at once, the butterflies settled.
Phil’s eyes held a tense and sad, but deep understanding. His voice, when he spoke, was quiet. “I’m not going to hurt you. I was going to clip your claws so you don’t break them, but it can always wait if that’s going to be too much right now.”
Dream’s gaze darted around the room: Phil’s face, Phil’s hands, the clippers, his own foot. Techno’s hand on his shoulder. The exit. He took another deep breath. “No,” he said, “No, sorry. That… I’m being stupid. You can clip them. I haven’t been able to.”
“No need to apologize– you aren’t being stupid. Here, I’m just going to pick the clippers back up. I promise you won’t feel a thing. This will be much easier than trimming tusks, I’ll bet.” He took Dream’s talon in hand again, gingerly, keeping his movements nice and slow. “The only trick,” he said as he aligned the clippers with his claw. Dream’s shoulders tensed, “is to avoid the quick.” Clip. “The little sensitive part on the inside of the claw. Cutting it would cause some bleeding, but,” Clip. “It’s pretty easy to see, even in claws as dark as yours.”
Techno stayed as still as possible, wanting to be a pillar of calm as Dream watched the clippers align with toe after toe. “‘Quick’? That’s what it’s called?” Dream asked.
“Mm-hmm. Don’t ask me why.” Clip. “Kind of a weird name, yeah? I’m not sure what’s so quick about them. But if you break a claw, you might cut into it, which is why you want to keep them a bit on the shorter side.” Philza grasped the shorter, plumper digit that was a little bit higher on the talon, and put the clippers in place. “And this toe is called the ‘hallux,’ did you know that?”
“Uh, no. I didn’t.”
“Yep. Birds have the same thing. It’s a bit longer in the crows– yours is more eagle-like, I suppose.” Clip. “And there we are. Nice and fast.”
As Phil released the limb, Dream pulled it from him and examined his handiwork. He flexed the talon, stretching and contracting the digits. His claws were short enough now that they might not click against the ground when he walks– perhaps stealth alone could be reason enough to keep them well-trimmed.
“Alright,” Phil continued, leaning back and drawing a leg onto the mattress with him, “We’re keeping that prosthetic off for a while. As we get a better one for you, we’ll try to heal up your foot and the amputation wound. No walking in the meantime. Techno?”
“Way ahead of you.” The piglin replied, “I’m gonna be here at the cabin for a while, so I can help lift ya around. Just like old times.”
“How are you gonna get a new leg for me, though? You know redstone, don’t you, Phil?”
“Ah. Well,” Phil said, “Not really. I only know a few things. Doors and such. I learned–”
He learned from a creeper hybrid, many centuries ago.
“--I learned a little. I can follow a blueprint, but I’m not much of an inventor. I wouldn’t trust myself to design a new limb for someone. We’ll figure something out. Stay patient and focus on healing in the meantime, yeah?”