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“So, whaddaya say, mate?” The Angel of Death chuckled, “You willing to join?”
“For a small fee, of course,” joked the Blood God.
Foolish, Totem of The Skies, The Earth and The Multitude of Seas, looked upon his guests. They’d strolled into his Summer Home not an hour prior, acting as though peddlers selling their wares. True to his suspicion, the two had gratefully accepted his invitation to tea and had sat down in his guest-greeting parlour and happily got to chattering over their steaming cups.
The Angel of Lady Death and the Blood God Khorne’s incarnate had approached Foolish; God of Life and Death and Unbalance, Totem of Domains, the Golden Warrior, Green-Eyed Protector, Red-Eyed Sickle. They approached him and offered him a position on their ‘Council’, aptly named a Syndicate for Anti-Corruption. From their claims, they fought against monarchy and government and everything in between.
Ironic, considering these two were the Emperors of the Antarctic Empire over in that other server world… If Dream hadn’t cut off the inter-server transport via his admin powers, these two wouldn’t even still be on this world. They would’ve left, much like many others. Philza and Technoblade would be sitting in their icy fortress above the world, watching with bright eyes and blades dripping blood as the factions below waged war on each other.
(Would Foolish have left if he was able to? How could he, when Eret was still none the wiser and only seeming to struggle more as the days went on? The mess of the Banquet was long gone, and Nevadas long in ruin, the prison gone, but all Foolish thought about was the fake king, once friend on the throne, who sat day and night unmoving except to brush dust from the pauldrons they didn’t even remember making.)
(His chest ached at the thought.)
“A small fee?” Foolish laughed to fill the void. He was not sure if he wanted ties so strong to people on this server… not anymore.
Quackity had forced his hand into building Las Nevadas, which now lay destroyed much like many other builds of his that did not sit on his desert sands. The duck hybrid had laughed at Foolish’s death, caught him in a moment of weakness and spindled him in a web of threads. Dream’s destruction, although not meaning to, had freed Foolish, and whilst presenting him with another problem, had rid him of the golden scourge that haunted him.
The point: when Las Nevadas fell, Foolish wept. When Quackity did too, Foolish found an impasse with grief and retreated back to his safe solitude of sand storms and ancient pyramids.
Technoblade grinned wide as he focused on that thread of conversation rather than Phil’s. “Just a few diamonds,” the piglin shrugged, red eyes slitting as he grinned nonchalantly. “Though, we do accept netherite payments.”
“More of a gold guy, myself,” Foolish hummed, watching the other’s eyes brighten into metaphorical stars. As Technoblade rumbled a chuckle and Philza turned to dissuade his partner of his sudden greed, Foolish sat back on his wickerbacked couch and finished sipping at his ginger tea. It was an old blend, ground by the villagers who lived just beyond the ridge, cascaded safely within his lands. They’d been living in fear for generations, before he’d found them and offered them shelter from mobs in return for cheaper prices. Some of the old nannies delivered satchels of tea to his door each weekend, always fawning over his ‘kindness’ and ogling his muscles.
“Well, let’s bypass any payment for now,” Phil won the silent glaring match and turned back to the table with a defiant smirk. Upon seeing Foolish’s blank stare, his expression smoothed out and he cleared his throat. “So, Foolish—”
A bang ran through the hallways, thudding into the parlour in a cacophony of noise. His guests stiffened immediately, jumping bolt upright. Philza was on his feet, wings rising in a mantle already. The sight, if not one Foolish knew to be defensive, would’ve struck fear into any mortal, whether they knew the man’s true identity or not. It would scare any lesser god who had not fought side-by-side with the Angel on worlds prior.
Now though, Philza’s name had been smeared across the history books and forgotten. Much like Foolish’s own. Phil was but a man with wings, on servers like these.
Chuffing, Foolish waved them off as they both reached for their weapons.
Everyone had been jumpy since L’manberg truly fell. Nevadas crumbling alongside the prison had just made the anxiety worse.
“Just the door,” he explained, getting to his feet. A doozer scuttled up onto the table and pointed at his empty cup. He flapped a hand at it and its chest rose on a huff, running over to the edge to sit impatiently. “I’ll be right back.”
“Alright, no worries,” Phil sat back down, and a shuffling clamour echoed behind him as the two likely scuffled for the last bitesized cake sitting on the plate in the middle of the table. Foolish smiled to himself as he stepped out into the hallway and walked down to his entrance.
Not many people came to visit him. To have both Technoblade and Philza today was a surprise. A third visitor was shocking.
His arm jerked as he reached out towards the door handle. He hoped it wasn’t Dream.
Crossing his fingers and hoping (on edge, ready to pull his kopesh out at the earliest sign), he opened the door and blinked down at the person standing there.
Dressed in a loose t-shirt and shorts that halted mid-thigh, no corset nor pauldrons in sight, his newest visitor blinked up at him before grinning widely. Stood in the lushest shades of blue, with pretty blue sandals that showed off her blue painted toes, Eret beamed happily. Her long legs were bare, her pale skin sure to turn a painful red if she stayed out in this desperate brightness for much longer.
“Hewwo, baba!” Her smile was the moon to his sun, every bit brilliant and to be adored. Foolish could stare at the sun unbothered for hours, but when he seen the moon he thought of Eret and wept silently. Now, he stared down at Eret and saw every bit the moon-embodiment he had all those years ago when he suggested they get matching tattoos – the very pinnacle of which stood proudly on her collarbone, hanging from it as though a keychain proudly displayed.
His little moon bounced on her feet, standing expectantly on his doorstep, eyes unguarded, glasses dismissed. She buzzed with energy – the sweet, sickly warmth of a planet that was entirely devoid of life, bones filled with hollow rock, fingers long and lithe as she reached up for him.
“Baba, baba! Ups! Uppies!” She chanted, fingers wriggling as she reached for him. He was a bit too tall for her to grab today, having woken at just over eight foot and deciding to remain at it. With this vantage, he reached down for her and scooped her into his arms easily, bringing her to rest on his hip with a playful growl.
“How’s my little lovebug,” he cooed, already rocking her back and forth on his hip. She squealed adorably, hands waving in her happy stim that only ever seen daylight when she was like this. “I haven’t seen much of you recently.”
He hadn’t expected Eret to come to him regressed, but he wasn’t about to let this opportunity slip through his fingers.
“I’s busy!” She answered, head bobbing along to something only she heard. Foolish watched with a fond eye as he stepped back and closed the front doors. “Doin’ lots stuffs.”
“Uh-huh?” He grinned, then paused in his walk back to the parlour. “I’ve got guests over, lovebug, is that okay?”
“Mhmm!” She nodded enthusiastically, “Me no mind!”
“Good girl,” he gushed, bouncing her the way she liked. Her hands practically vibrated as she clutched at him, one slipping up to grab at his hand as he patted her head. She held on to his fingers, already babbling nonsense. Oops, he hadn’t meant to make them slip even younger.
Not that he minded. Eret was so cute…
Pleased, he resumed his walk down the hallway, taking it slow so that the babe in his arms could process everything. When she went little, Eret needed a few minutes to register her surroundings and actions. Although she didn’t make it obvious, to Foolish, every time she struggled to understand something was akin to her lagging, as her face blanked out for a few moments.
It was awfully adorable, though he knew that when she got stuck on something it upset her. This was one of the largest reasons for her meltdowns when she was tiny – a lack of understanding could make her terribly upset.
As they progressed, he kept an eye on her, watching as she looked around with wide eyes. He didn’t think he’d seen her little in this server, though it was sorely appreciated that she’d came to him.
He wondered who on the server she’d went to before he’d arrived. Who had been her caregiver when he wasn’t available?
Her hand had snuck up to her face, bunched fist resting at her chin. Foolish, well aware of her signs, gently tapped on her knuckles and pulled a pacifier from his inventory’s subspace. The way her eyes lit up as he offered it to her more than made up tenfold for the (infinitesimal) space it had taken up in his multidimensional storage.
It was a plain black paci – one they’d planned to decorate together before she went missing. Foolish looked at the paci now and wondered what would’ve happened if—
No. Best to not dwell on those things.
He ruffled her hair again and her eyes scrunched happily. Kicking her legs idly at his sides, the little half-kicks not nearly enough to hit him or disrupt his gait, one hand shaking against his shoulder with the other clenching the paci’s handle and twisting it up and down as she sucked away, Eret was the picture of childish joy.
Foolish’s chest ached.
His temple did not have doors separating the rooms. Mostly because when he built the temple, he hadn’t figured out what type of wood went best with the sandstone arches. Then, he’d eventually come to the conclusion that it was too much work to install doors after the hassle he’d had with the front door.
Thus, they heard the low chatter of the two sitting in his guest parlour before they entered the room. Eret perked up, looking over to the open doorway. She blinked in that direction before turning back to him. Her head tilted in a silent question, paci bobbing in her mouth.
Winking at her, Foolish carried her over to the doorway and walked into the room without preamble.
Technoblade blinked at them but seemed uninterested, busy licking his fingers after having evidently won the rights for the final cake. Phil, on the other hand, stared at Eret while Foolish set her down on the same couch he’d been sitting on. He put her on her bottom after grabbing a cushion off one of the other chairs for her to sit on, lest the wicker hurt her.
“Hewwo!” Paci momentarily clutched in one hand, Eret made a grabby motion towards their guests in what was probably meant to be a greeting wave. Technoblade give a piglin-esque snort, which was traditional for a piglin to do when greeting a child, and nodded once.
Phil offered an odd smile. “Hi, mate. How’re you doing?”
“I’s good,” Eret nodded. She offered a sweet smile and plopped her pacifier back in, seeming content to kick her legs back and forth in the space between the couch and the table. Foolish’s furniture was built bigger than most peoples’, so it meant Eret’s feet couldn’t touch the ground with how far back he’d set her on the couch. In addition, everything was more proportionally spaced, meaning the table was well out of her kicking range.
“Uh, if this is a bad time, Foolish…” Phil started.
“Not at all,” he smiled back, offering Eret his hand to play with as she shifted towards him. She grabbed it and immediately started drawing little wonky shapes over his palm. “We can continue.”
“Don’t wanna disturb the tyke,” Techno grunted, setting his empty teacup down. The doozer that was on cup duty sprang up, racing over with a disproportionately larger teapot.
“She’s fine, aren’t you, sweetheart?” He looked down at Eret to find her staring at his golden hands with a serious expression.
At her name, she looked up, head swivelling as she orientated herself. “Hmm?”
“Do you want some juice, lovebug?” Foolish prompted, talking gently. It was better to talk softly to Eret when she was small to prevent any misunderstandings or anything that could set her off in a fuss. “Baba’s friends are going to be here a while.”
“Ah, mate, we really don’t need to—” Philza received a sharp elbow in the side that had him holding back a wheeze. Foolish pretended not to see it out of curtesy, however curious little Eret looked over with wide eyes.
“Tha’s no’ nice,” she chastised Technoblade, paci bunched in her fist. For all her waffled and slurred words, she sounded as serious as a little kid could be. “Gotta ap- apollo-jazz.”
“Apologise?” Techno gently corrected her with a kinder tone than Foolish had thought would be heard from a God of War’s incarnate. “Nah. Philza doesn’t need one. He was gonna be rude.”
“Rood?” Eret echoed, gasping comically. She shook her head rather dramatically. “Rood no good.”
“Yup,” Techno agreed. There was something warm in his dark eyes. And it wasn’t the desert heat, though he had draped his thick red cloak over the back of the couch he and Philza had claimed. “That’s it, squirt. You tell him.”
Eret nodded along. Foolish chuckled and regained her attention.
With her eyes back on him, white gems staring up at him, Foolish smiled. “What about your juice, lovebug?”
“Cans I haves appy juice?” She struggled to parse through the sentence. Hiccupping in the back of her throat, she rubbed her fingers together.
Foolish plucked her paci from loose fingers and wiggled it in front of her. Eret blinked at it.
“Here comes the aeroplane paci!” He chirped, hoping to stave off the oncoming cry over her inability to speak. She was going younger than she wanted, obviously, but her headspace wasn’t something she had great control over and so she could only fuss about it.
Mouth opening wide, Eret giggled quietly around the paci and wriggled her legs back and forth.
“Baba’s gonna go get you some juice, ‘kay, lovebug?” He made sure to tell her exactly where he was going, just in case. After seeing her nod, Foolish looked over to the two sitting on the couch opposite. “I won’t be long. Make sure she doesn’t fall off the chair?”
“Of course, mate,” Phil waved him off.
Standing, Foolish ruffled Eret’s hair, much to her squeaked joy, and stepped out of the room.
Technoblade had intended to visit the desert to recruit another god to their Syndicate, not end up playing rock-paper-scissors with a regressed toddler-aged Eret. The very same Eret who was the monarch of the Greater SMP lands and, by all titles, the enemy of the Syndicate.
But, after having decided to sit beside the kid while Foolish got them some juice – because Eret had nearly fallen off the couch not a moment after the totem had stepped out of the room – Technoblade figured it was in the small details that people were won over.
“Rock.” He declared, hand shaped in a fist over his flat palm. Opposite him, Eret blinked at his outcome and scrunched their hand into a fist as well.
“Wok!” She echoed, beaming up at him.
He also had not anticipated having to teach a toddler how to play rock-paper-scissors, but Technoblade supposed there was a first time for everything.
“Good job,” he encouraged, wanting to keep the kid happy. Her fist was rather loose and, if it had been a real stone, it would be one that Technoblade would not trust to be within five kilometers of a wall. “The next one is paper. Can you flatten your hand out like this?”
Her paper was more like a wave. Technoblade copied her this time and wiggled his around in the air. Eret giggled and flapped her hands in what he recognised as a stim. At least, she was happy.
Which was a large contrast to the moody Philza, who’d laid eyes upon Eret and immediately had a one-eighty in spirits. Technoblade wasn’t sure if it was because Eret being young and acting as such reminded him of a younger Wilbur or just because this situation made him think of times long past, but whatever it was, Eret’s presence had caused the man’s shoulders to hitch and his smile to strain.
So, Technoblade was being a good friend. Instead of just looking after their prospective recruit’s kid, he was also evading Phil’s glower and directing said kid’s attention away from the stormcloud on the couch adjacent. He was multitasking.
How long did it take to get some juice? Was Foolish out there crushing apples into a glass?
“Impressive,” he complimented, nodding at their best attempt yet. It seemed scissors were the only thing they could form that looked to be scissors. Back in Phil’s day, this game hadn’t even been made, and when it had been, the scissors had been shears and the paper, parchment. Rocks had been the same largely throughout history.
“Pway now?” Eret asked, seeming much too full of energy as they kicked their legs back and forth quickly.
“Uh-huh,” Technoblade agreed. “When I get to one, you have to show off whatever sign you picked, remember how it goes?”
“Wok win to skizzies,” Eret mimed a rock flattening a pair of scissors. “Buh paper win to wok!”
Technoblade watched as the rock was grabbed up. “And what about the paper?”
“It loose to skizzies!”
“Alright, you got it,” he nodded. “I’ll count down from three, ready?”
“Yeah!” Eret’s head bobbed along. Her eyes were wide.
“Three…” The kid shifted closer as though that would let her see what he was going to pick.
“Two….” Technoblade decided to show his hand a split second before the final number, to try and even things out for the kid. He chose rock.
“One!”
Eret did not move. She stared at his bunched fist.
Technoblade wondered if he should’ve explained it more. “Uh, kiddo?”
“I win!” She squealed, both hands flying up and dropping down to hold his fist tight. “Paper win!”
Unsure how well a toddler would take criticism, especially when they seemed so happy, Technoblade played along. “Nice work, kiddo. Got me good.”
“Yippee!” Eret withdrew and clapped her hands, wobbling a bit back and forth as she resituated herself and pulled her legs up in a cross-legged asana. “Cans we pway ‘gan?”
“Again?” He echoed. Some sentences the kid said sounded perfect, whilst others were a flurry of lisp and bitten off consonants. Technoblade figured the pacifier didn’t help much either. “Sure. You ready?”
The kid’s head bounced. “Uh-huh!”
“Three, two, one!” Technoblade chose scissors, this time.
Eret stared again. She hesitated before reaching out and grabbing his hand the same way she had last time. They looked up at him, appearing unsure. “Pa’er wi’?”
“Paper doesn’t win, sorry, squirt,” he said. Her face fell, brow wobbling as the pacifier in her mouth quivered. “It’s alright, here—”
Reaching for her hands, he shaped them into a fist. “Rock wins against scissors.”
Manoeuvring her hands above his, which he quickly reformed into a pair of scissors, Technoblade let Eret tap her hands against his.
“You got it, kid!” He encouraged, watching as her face lit up. Eret giggled, paci bobbing happily as her eyes scrunched with a smile. “Nicely done.”
“Wok win!” She fidgeted. She unfolded her legs and then folded them again, though her sandals made it look a bit sore, with the sole pressing against her skin. Eret fussed, speaking in babbles as she tugged at them.
“Here, I can do that for you,” he offered, letting the kid dump her feet in his lap. The sandals had one of those metal claw clasps, which took a bit of poking with his large fingers before he managed to undo. Once done, though, he was rewarded with a cheer as the shoes came off.
No longer burdened by uncomfortable sandals, Eret thanked him past a bobbing paci and shifted onto her knees. How she managed it without falling off the couch, Technoblade was unsure. What he did know, was that a moment later, Eret had crawled over to him and sat in his lap.
“You want… cuddles?” He was a bit awkward about it, mostly because this wasn’t really what Technoblade usually did and due to the fact he hadn’t expected to be subjected to anything like this. Eret, on the other hand, curled up in his lap and grabbed his wrist to start tapping at his hand the same way she’d been tapping at Foolish’s earlier. “Uh, right. Okay.”
“Dis hurt?” She chirped after a few seconds of silence. Phil’s stare was a lead weight; heavy to the point where Technoblade wondered if Eret was ignoring him on purpose.
Looking down, he found her pointing at an old scar. It was so old and meaningless that Technoblade had forgotten how he’d got it.
“Nope,” he popped the second consonant and got a grin in response.
Eret was an interrogative squirt. “How get?”
“Hm,” he wondered if he should make something up before deciding that he should probably buy time. Foolish had seemingly dipped on them. “I was wrestling with a polar bear.”
“Wha?” Eret burst upright. “No way!”
“Yes way,” he confirmed. He flexed his hand and mimed fighting. “The bear wanted my lunch but so did I.”
“You fight bear?” Eret repeated. If her eyes weren’t soulless pits, Technoblade figured they would’ve been sparkling with amazement. “Woah…”
“Yep,” he nodded along. Seeing how young she was, he didn’t want to make it too violent. “In the end, we shared the fish.”
Eret tilted her head. “Fishies for lunch?”
“Fish are nice,” he shrugged.
“Nuh-uh,” Eret disagreed. “Icky.”
“What do you like to eat, then?” He hummed.
Cupping their chin, Eret made a long drawn-out humming noise. “I like baba’s food!”
“Oh?” Technoblade agreed. “What does Foolish make?”
“Some of the best stuff you’ll ever taste!” The man himself appeared. Technoblade internally celebrated.
Foolish set down a tray of filled glasses on the table, with a pitcher sitting alongside them.
“Baba!” Eret cheered. “Appy juice!”
“Here you are,” the man’s smile was soft and gentle, loving, as he gave the kid the sippy cup. Eret grabbed it shakily and wiggled happily as she drank from it.
Technoblade was traded a glass of apple juice for Eret. Not that he minded, per se, though he did feel a little sad.
“Sorry it took so long,” Foolish grinned, toting Eret on his hip with ease as the kid drank their juice. “I thought I had some juice in the cold cupboard but turns out I didn’t. Had to squeeze some apples on the spot.”
“No worries, mate,” Philza said, taking all the credit for Technoblade’s amazing babysitting skills whilst he himself had sat and brooded the entire time. He accepted the glass offered to him with a slightly less strained smile.
“Juice good, baba,” Eret chirped, clutching her paci in one hand as she held the sippy with her other. She beamed at the golden totem and sat happily in his lap when the tall god decided to sit back down. Only now realising that he was still sitting beside them, Technoblade wondered if it would be too awkward or rude if he were to go sit beside Phil again.
“Thank you, lovebug,” Foolish was cooing, nuzzling Eret’s forehead. One of his hands slipped under the base of the sippy and helped Eret drink from it. From Technoblade’s perspective, it hadn’t seemed as though Eret needed help holding it, but the second Foolish’s hand was on it, Eret sagged into his chest with a pleased noise.
Drinking some of the juice given to him, Technoblade resonated with the kid’s statement. The juice was good.
“So,” Foolish started as they all drank their way through the pitcher. Eret’s sippy had been refilled twice before she started yawning and settled down, resting her head on Foolish’s shoulder as he gently rubbed their back. “You didn’t explain what my job would be.”
“This you accepting?” Technoblade asked.
“I’ll see,” Foolish turned to stare at him. His gem-shaped green eyes were more intimidating than they should’ve been. “What’s the role?”
“Same as the other members,” Phil spoke. “Gathering intel, keeping an eye on suspicious activity, helping keep the server safe from tyrants.”
“From your manifesto, it sounds like Eret would be targeted.”
The kid shifted at hearing their name. “Huhhh?”
“Shh, baby,” Foolish rocked them and they slumped back against him. “That’s it, good girl.”
“If they can prove themself to not be a threat,” Phil said. “They wouldn’t have to be.”
“Is this not proof enough?” Foolish challenged, gesturing to the dozing babe splayed over his chest.
Phil wasn’t giving in. “No.”
Technoblade sat awkwardly between the two, gaze slipping around as though he was at a tennis match. Right now, Phil and Foolish were fighting for the grand slam; rackets whirring through the air, the ball zapping between them like a bullet.
He was sweating, though he would blame that on the heat. And his piglin genes, even if he wasn’t shifted into his piglin form at the moment, instead clearly parading about in his human skin.
“She’s harmless,” Foolish insisted.
“She killed my son,” Phil snapped.
Foolish reared back as though burned. The hand on Eret’s back rose to their shoulder blades.
“I don’t like your attitude,” Foolish responded.
“And I don’t like the person you’re treating like a child.”
“She’s age-regressed,” Foolish growled. “Mentally, they’re no older than five. Are you really going to hold a grudge against a five year old?”
“When that five year old killed my son? Of fucking course I am.”
Eret shifted sleepily. Technoblade eyed her as the two continued to hiss out an argument, slowly getting louder with each jab.
“You have no right to come to my home and insult my— insult Eret. You seem to forget that you killed Wilbur as well!”
Technoblade wondered what Foolish would’ve said had he not hesitated.
Stirring, Eret opened her eyes. “Wilby?”
Phil’s mouth snapped shut. He hadn’t even gotten his response out. He glared at Eret’s back.
Foolish growled; a deep, dangerous sound. He bared sharp teeth, presented in a long, grim smile.
“Baba,” Eret huffed, patting the totem god’s chest. “No... no fighty.”
“I’m not, darling.” Despite the obvious lie (he was glaring at Phil as though one wrong breath on the Angel’s part would be worthy of attacking him), Foolish sounded remarkably calm. “Technoblade and Philza were just leaving.”
“Wha ‘bout Wilby?” Eret murmured, sitting upright. With her more awake, Foolish hid his snarl. Philza was still glaring.
Technoblade felt very uncomfortable, though he knew whose side he would stand on.
“Oh!” Eret rubbed at her eyes and blinked at Phil. “You Wilby’s baba!”
No one spoke. Foolish seemed to be unsure of what to say. Technoblade felt as though he’d lost the right to speak.
“Did you teach him all those pwetty songs?”
Philza frowned at her. “What?”
“He sang lots,” Eret explained patiently, with the demeanour of any four year old who knew something an older person didn’t – which meant, they were smiling. “Dada knew lots an’ lots of songs!”
Caught off-guard, Technoblade couldn’t help but echo the squirt’s words. “Dada?”
Eret turned to him and nodded excitedly. “Yeah! Dada looked after Erie ‘fore baba gots here.”
“Lovebug...” Foolish began.
Phil interrupted him. “Wilbur was your caregiver, little one?”
He sounded reverent. Shocked, yes, but there was something deeply precious in Phil’s voice, as though he had rethought everything in a matter of seconds.
Technoblade had not expected this.
“Uh-huh!” Eret nodded, beaming. “He always sang ‘bout birds.”
The parlour was very quiet.
In a flurry, Phil stood. Foolish’s hand shifted, Technoblade watching as the man disguised a simple finger flick as him opening his inventory. He was afraid Phil would attack.
Technoblade did not want the kid to get hurt in the crossfire. He stood as well. The eyes in the room turned to him.
The voices rushed in suddenly; a clamour to be heard. He’d meditated before coming here, so they’d been quiet for the last hour or so. Now, they boomed;
protect the little one fight for her attack phil body guard blade arc don’t fight phil he’s our friend but eret is cute we need to protect—
Phil bowed. “I apologise for my rudeness,” he said, dead serious. Technoblade gaped. Foolish stared, wide eyed. Eret was sucking on her paci, none the wiser as to the tension. “Have a nice day, Eret. Foolish.”
He turned and walked out of the parlour. Technoblade stalled out.
look phil doesn’t want a fight no need to frown like that blade i want to give the babe a hug before we go
Foolish looked relieved. Just as Technoblade had suspected – the God of Storms and Chaos was no longer a fighter.
“Thanks for the tea and cakes and juice,” he said, feeling a bit odd as he listed it all off. “The juice was very nice. And, um, if you want it, the offer’s still on the table. Yeah. Bye.”
He turned on his heel, only just managing to grab his cloak before scurrying from the room.
“Bye, bye, Techno!” Eret called after him.
goodbye eret oh she’s so cute bye little one let’s slap phil for being rude what about foolish i think we should steal the baby
He smiled as he met Phil by the front door. The Angel of Death was pale in the bright sun, standing with his hands clenched by his sides.
When Technoblade stepped up beside him, Phil nodded at him and spread his wings wide.