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When Ranboo walks in, it’s a low shhk-shhk that greets him. Steve is curled up in a corner next to Edward—who he decidedly avoids very awkward eye contact with—and Techno, back turned to him. The man drags his sword across the whetstone, netherite duly glinting in the warm light. Weirdly enough, it feels comforting, the promise of violence drowned out by patient, slow motion. Hah. That itself feels like Techno, terrifying and funny and strangely really good at waiting.
Ranboo supposes all good fighters should be good at waiting–for the right moment to strike, the optimal position—he’s all twitchiness and heart, per say, thrumming under his chest and screaming run run run—
“You gonna stand there all day or…?”
Ranboo does not jump three feet in the air. “Yeah! Uh, yeah. Mm. You know, I thought I knew what I came here for but I just remembered that I have no idea.”
Words. He knows what those are.
Techno gives a little half-snort, but he shifts his coat back before giving up and hanging the entire thing on the back of his chair. “C’mere,” Techno beckons, waving a hooved hand at him with no real expectation.
That’s what Ranboo likes about this place, honestly. Okay, well, sometimes it feels a little bit like he’s a little dog they indulgently allow on their lands who they like to talk to from time-to-time, but apart from that, it’s nice. Maybe just a tiny more expectation would be good. But here, among allies and the comfort of some of the strongest players just…accepting him? Yeah. He likes it here.
Techno has carefully avoided chipping off the etched enchantments on his sword, just sharpening the sword until it’s wickedly pointed. It’s beautiful, dark purple shimmer; a reminder of what Ranboo returned for his peace. Maybe joining the arctic was a selfish action, but at the current moment, it only feels like relief. The thing is, Ranboo isn’t even sure why exactly he walked in. It just felt right, needing something quiet after the Syndicate meeting and feeling off, the itch of forgetting something right at the precipice of his brain and he was just so scared.
“So. How often do you sharpen your weapons? I mean. The Sharpness V enchant should keep it pretty dangerous, and honestly I never sharpen mine because they just end up losing their enchants, so it doesn’t really seem worth it,” he honestly babbles , letting the words tumble out of his mouth.
Techno puts the sword down and tilts his head, an indication there’s probably more in his head than Ranboo’s voice, but he shows no indication of it otherwise. “I don’t sharpen ‘em too much, cause they disenchant that way, but it’s more of a thing I do in my freetime. I mean, it’s pretty cheap for me to replace them, but an item to focus on helps sometimes.”
Ranboo nods, trying really hard not to think about how he probably looks like a bobblehead at this point. Or worse, as Techno would claim, a side character. A NPC. “Yeah! Like gambling but with skill. Makes sense. ”
Techno barks out a laugh at that one, and Ranboo bounces on the heels of his feet, tail swishing in the air at the noise. “Gamblin’ with skill. Heh. Oh, I’ve failed you as your sensei, main character. How will you prepare for battle without proper weaponry care?”
“Well, generally I avoid the battle in the first place, but if that doesn’t work, I swing and hope it connects. And try not to die,” he says, wryly.
“I would hope so, Ranboo. Generally the main character has to wait until their mentor passes away dramatically to have their power-up moment, but I’ll teach you a trick or two if you want.”
Given that his coping mechanisms include holing up in what is definitely not a bunker and trying not to listen or hear or think about a certain smile (generally he has an idea that this is probably very unhealthy), visiting Tubbo all day (this one is fine), and writing in his memory books (maybe the lesser of the two evils?), Ranboo is pretty sure this’ll be better than what he was doing before. A new way to relax!
“Um, yeah, sure! If that’s what you’re up for. Let’s do this.”
Techno holds a hand out for a weapon, and Ranboo slides Ranord from his inventory. It almost feels natural. Like he’s home.
Maybe he is.
Generally, Niki is not the type of person to wander and stay on property that isn’t hers. Or maybe that was her past self; the naive girl with too many stars in her eyes and believed in a country and two boys. The needless dreamer, and the selfish —
Bitterness. It bleeds into her tongue, blurring her vision and she is angry once again, the feeling tearing through her body and refusing to leave. She knows it’s misguided, but there she is, invisible all over again. Niki clenches her fists around her legs, dress bunched up underneath her sitting position against the wall. Maybe if she just destroys something, feel a horrible crunch beneath her hands, all of her anger will disappear. Seems to work for everyone else, doesn’t it?
No. It would only leave her shaking and sick to the stomach, exhausted of all her violence. This is her second chance, a happy life of her choosing.
She should go. A field underneath the arctic is most definitely either Techno or Philza’s, and Niki can’t lose their trust now. Not that trapping the place would really hurt them, but they’re allies. And it’s been some time, she supposes, since she’s had reliable friends that weren’t built on old hurts. Or maybe the Syndicate is just the same, but they feel newer. Reliable in a way she can barely recall from before.
Niki breathes in, standing up and brushing the dirt from her skirts as she turns towards the entrance. She freezes as a shadow approaches, the soft crunch of boots as someone heads down the dirt spiral. Slowly, she pulls a sword from her inventory, drumming her fingers against the hilt nervously. Crouch. Wait. Watch for the best moment. Remember the tips that they taught her.
The man emerges from the entrance, blinking in surprise at her defensive form.
“Niki?” Techno drawls, looking around. “Not quite sure why you’re trainin’ here, but typically potatoes don’t make for good opponents.”
Surprised, she giggles, letting the sword disappear into her inventory. “Technoblade,” she greets, flexing her hand to rid herself of any residual fear. Pretend she’s supposed to be here. Disappear into the scene as she always has. “Nice farming setup you have down here.”
He takes a short bow, sweeping past his cape. “Thank you, thank you. You know, if you wanna train, I have a better facility further out in the arctic. Could train ya more if you want.”
Niki pauses, startled by the easy offer before she shakes her head. “I mean. Thank you for the offer, Techno, it was very kind of you. But I just needed a place to…cool my head, y’know? It’s nice down here.”
“Yeah. You don’t need to break in next time, this place connects to the wolf den if you don’t mind walkin’ a couple hundred blocks. I bring some of ‘em with me when I get bored.” Techno shrugs, clearing out a few potatoes with a sweep of his fist before picking them from the ground.
She smiles, imagining the warm press of fur running alongside her. It’s a thought she would like to bring to life, she thinks. “Sure, I might take you up on your offer when I get the time. No more breaking in, I promise.”
He laughs, shoulders shaking with the sound. He presses a potato to the ground and replants it, moving on from block to block. “I appreciate the new commitment. Anything else you do in your free time, other than sneaking into people’s secret farms?”
Okay, maybe she deserves that, just a bit. “I like to bake, although I suppose it’s been some time since I’ve last picked it up, with…everything that’s happened, honestly.”
Abandonment, and the quiet burn of grief, then searing, terrifying rage that left her empty, nothingness dotting her path. The lack of acknowledgement. How strange, the feeling of the truth dripping from her mouth feels.
“...Ever think of pickin’ it up again recently? Or, you know, picking up potatoes is pretty riveting, if you’re looking for something new.”
Niki picks her skirts up and bends down, yanking a couple of potatoes from the ground playfully. “I can see that, though I didn’t expect you to be someone who enjoys farming.”
Picking up baking again. She would like to say yes immediately, but something in her quiets at the thought. Hesitates at the reminder of the girl she used to be.
Techno snorts, shaking his head with the action. “It’s a war, Niki. Farmin’ those potatoes are all I need to win.”
“A war?” she laughs, “then it must be a fierce one, where you need allies. If you don’t mind me helping out for a bit?”
Niki stands to twirl her dress and give a short bow, prompting a grin from the man across from her. It feels comfortable, as if her frustration and grief aren’t…entirely gone, but less of a pulsing ache in her chest. Maybe she will be okay again. This is her happy ending, no?
“I don’t mind the free labor,” Techno jokes, stepping aside so she can join him in replanting the empty spaces. “And you can keep the extra potatoes, though I don’t think they’ll be too helpful in your baking endeavors.”
“Thank you for the free food. I’ll bring you a cake next time,” Niki promises, and smiles when she finds the statement entirely truthful to herself. “As a recompense for breaking in. And for helping me; accepting me into the Syndicate.”
“You don’t need to thank me. I don’t think I did much other than plant some potatoes while we were talking. I think you deserved that spot in the Syndicate as much as anyone else, Nemesis. ”
She thinks she will head home soon and collect ingredients for a cake or two. Puffy always loved when she brought food over to their talks, and it has been some time since they last had a good conversation. Niki runs her hands through the dirt, thinking of running wild with wolves, of the comforting smell of something baking, the idea of home. Of belonging.
She is seen here, this new self who she would never recognize in the mirror before. The thought seems less scary than before.
"Phil, where have you been? Two weeks, Phil, two weeks without contact!"
Philza blinked, cocking his head as his crows cawed in amusement over them. Techno was still staring at him incredulously, cape swishing with his pacing. He grinned, wiggling his fingers and fanning his hands out.
"Just building some things in my hardcore world. Visited my wife," He rocked back and forth on his heels, wings swishing with the movement.
"Phil. Phil. You cannot just leave and visit the personification of Death, your apparent wife, and not tell me!" Techno threw his hands up in the air, then dragged down them down his face. "I had to comfort people, did you know? Chat, chat, stop laughing! I gave emotional and powerful talks to the Syndicate; it better have been worth it."
"I came up with some pretty sick builds, maybe you should check them out next time," Philza chortled, resting himself on a nearby chest. "But it feels pretty good to be home, eh?"