otherside
The emblems carved into his skin burn and glow in the low light of midnight, barely illuminating the pig mask settled against his scarred and burned skin. The gold rings decorating his chipped and damaged tusks glint.
No doubt looking like a creature that had crawled straight out of the depths of hell.
Perhaps he did crawl straight out of hell. The fire and brimstone burning his skin and marring him as a monster, or perhaps something else is cause for the scars against his skin. Either way…
A fitting image for the champion of blood.
He’s got a sword pointing to a man who lies cowering against the ground. His crimes are unknown to Technoblade, and that does not matter. His God tells him that the man needs to die, and so be it.
The man beneath him begs, something about having a family. Something about not wanting to die.
His cries fall upon deaf ears as sword meets delicate skin with one, quick move. He hears a gurgling noise, the crude smell of metal invading his every sense. It’s freeing, invigorating. He grins wickedly as the symbols on his skin cast a glow on the world around him.
“Blood for the Blood God.”
-
Until his god beckons him, he wanders back to the cold lands he calls home. He lives in a barren land, void of any life besides himself and his livestock. He tends to animals, cares for his crops. His life is oddly domestic, for a man with hundreds of stains of blood scarring his clawed hands.
Here, in his homestead, he dons far more comfortable and casual clothing. He scrubs away the blood, though he feels as though it will never come off. It’s trapped deep beneath his fingernails, deep in his soul.
He removes his mask too, allowing for his scarred and damaged skin to breathe in the refreshing cold air of the tundra around him. He feels normal, or as normal as a creature from the pits of hell could possibly be.
He’s taken to feeding the cows this morning, the clouds overhead giving way to bucketsful of soft snow as he does so. It settles against his shoulders, which he shakes off when it becomes too cumbersome to remain.
He hears grunts and moos of joy as he empties the bucket into the troughs, running his hands across one as he does so. “Hello, friend.” He says quietly to the cow, the animal content for a moment before making noises of unhappiness. No doubt angry over being unable to join the others in consuming their meal.
He lets a small laugh, apologizing to the cow.
It’s far too cold and snowy for him to care for the garden, or to have it be of any use. The climate he lives within is snowy almost all the time, but the clouds will occasionally part for a few months and the snow melts, and he can finally plant something to sell to market.
He instead chooses to wander a little, though remaining close to his home. He desired to build a new building on his land, perhaps a storehouse or something similar. He brought a satchel of tools out with him, marking the ground with logs to outline his building. The work is domestic, calming. It quiets his violent mind.
It’s then, amongst the snow and ice that his god calls to him once more.
I beckon you, my champion.
“Anything you ask,” he says, head ascending upwards as his mouth falls agape in answer to the Blood God. The emblems carved into his skin glow and burn, though the pain becomes an afterthought to him.
I call upon you to slay another. He must die.
“Who, my god?”
The King. Philza, he who rules over the cold lands you’ve seen fit to settle within.
The Blood God’s voice is almost sour, scolding Technoblade like a parent would a child. It’s embarrassing, though he dares not vocalize those words. He instead responds to his God with full compliance.
“It shall be done.”
As always, I knew it would be.
The world comes back into focus, loud and awful. His hands feel as though they are to fall away, crumble into ice and rot.
He finally feels the burn of the symbols barred into his skin, gasping as they pulsate with the fading words of the God of Blood. It will pass, as it always does. He just needs to breathe through it, and he would be fine.
He fell into the soft dusting of snow that had fallen, feeling the hardened and packed snow beneath it. It was always snowing here, and the freeze did wonders against his burning skin as it turned to slush around his overheated body.
He would get up, soon. But for now, he laid amongst the snow and slept.
-
The capital is a week’s walk away. And while the prospect of the trip disgruntles him, he does enjoy the soft treading of hooves against the ground. The far-off noises of the animals that run free in the woods, wolves somewhere close yet distant at the same time.
He takes his trusted, and only horse, Carl for the trip. He attaches two decently sized packs to each side of the large horse, packed as full as they would safely go. He had cities marked out for supply stops, though his trip was planned down to the T. He had enough supplies to get him to the first city, he calculated, and then he would refill and get more when he got to the first city. It would get him all the way to the capital in a week.
The only thing he has yet to accommodate for is actually getting himself inside of the castle, which requires far more planning than he currently has the time for. Killing a king is nothing like those who have suffered the wrath of his God in the past.
But they would bleed and die just the same.
The strict planning gave him a sense of control, like holding the reigns of a horse that only he could control. He could set the plans, set the stops. It was him, only him. It was an odd feeling, the sense of being in control while knowing your life was always in the control of a higher deity.
He took small joys in being able to control a trip himself, as his god hardly interfered unless it was a deadly affair.
Technoblade being brought to his knees, his throat is slashed, angry and hot and bloody, angry inky wings beating harshly against the stale air that burned his nostrils. He was afraid, he was afraid! -
But that had been so long since he had needed help in such a manner.
Carl shakes him, drawing him from the depths of his mind he had fallen back into. Whether the horse could somehow feel the thoughts rampaging his mind, or simply felt like being a problem, Technoblade would never know.
-
He’s been riding for what seems like forever when the sun finally begins to set, leaving painted streaks of a gorgeous sunset against the previously blue sky. It’s beautiful, and Technoblade cherishes the water-colored sky for just a few moments.
The peace, of course, is shortly lived because darkness consumes the horizons, and the world falls under night. His camp is set up, a fire constructed in a small clearing of the woods he would be in for another day.
Carl sleeps nearby, the sounds of his odd snores becoming a backdrop to the wildlife that lives within the wood. It’s nice, and Technoblade enjoys the noise as he takes to preparing a small meal on his now brightly burning fire. Sticks overhang the fire, allowing easily for a small kettle to sit above the flame to warm.
His hands hold his knife deftly, slicing the meat he tightly packed amongst bits of collected ice to preserve the meat through the trip. The natural freeze of the area helped, almost entirely doing the job of preservation, though the ice added an extra layer of safety.
He lays it against a hot stone he washed and sat amongst crackling wood to warm enough to sear the meat. He presses a quick hand against it, directly testing the stone’s heat. Pain briefly blossoms in his hand, and he hums in satisfaction, laying the slices of beef against the stone.
He hears sizzling, again humming as the meat cooks against the warmed river stone. He unhooks the warm kettle from above the fire, pouring the boiling water into a small cup with a mixture of tea leaves at the bottom. He had made the mix himself and was quite proud of it as well. It also tasted delicious.
He sipped his tea whilst waiting for the meat to cook, flipping and checking it intermediately. He takes a small wood piece and carves enough out to accommodate the incoming meal to be ate upon it.
Soon, he plated the meal with small slices of fruit and carrot he had drawn from the bags. It’s by no means a large meal but will accommodate him until he enters the first stop by evening tomorrow.
The fire warms him as he fills his belly, wolves howling nearby through it concerns him none. He has no quarry with the wildlife, even preferring to admire the animals from afar. They fascinated him, being the subject of the small journal entries, he would indulge himself with occasionally.
Soon, his plate is empty, and his appetite is sated. The wooden plate is fed to the fire to keep the warmth going, and his bedroll is laid amongst the snow on the ground. Settling in, it takes him only moments to fall into sleep..
-
He’s running.
He’s not sure why, the reasoning escaping him as his instincts feed in and cause him to go faster. There’s an endless, inky darkness beneath him that dares to swallow him up, never to be found again.
There’s something behind him, angrily beating and sending waves of air forward. They threaten to trip him, though he keeps his footing steady lest he be consumed. He needs to run, to be free.
Something calls to him, screaming his name as though it would somehow save them. It’s familiar, in a deeply unsettling and horrifying way. He’s heard that voice before, and he wonders who they were to him. Or maybe they weren’t anybody, and it’s the screams of a life he snuffed out for his God.
He doesn’t want to hear the voices anymore, wants there to be silence for once in his life. His god beckoning him, the swelling sound of a chorus of unsatiable voices in his head, he’s never known true silence a day in his life.
His burnt and scarred hands clasp his ears tightly, though the action does nothing. The screaming is in his head, and he cannot escape from it.
He runs, runs till he can no longer adequately fill his lungs with oxygen, and his breathless body collapses into the abyss beneath him. It’s painless, quick. Deep inside, Technoblade wonder how this could be a fitting end for the Champion of the Blood God. He’d imagine more fanfare than this.
He’s sinking deep, deeper, deeper….
Something grabs him.
He can’t breathe, the oxygen won’t go down his throat. It feels like his choking, the ink around him clogging his throat.
His skin is set alight with pain, feeling as though a million suns are pressed closely to his scarred body, it hurts, it hurts. The wings are back, and the harsh air beating into his face does nothing to aid the pain that over comes to his body.
. He’s captured, to be sent to death. He’s not ready to die yet! He doesn’t want to! –
-
Technoblade wakes with a jolt, his back arching as he claws at his throat as though he were a wild animal. Air is rushing into his stricken lungs, not fast enough or plentiful enough. He feels like he’s going to die.
He lays there, feeling like he is choking. He’s pathetic, he can almost hear his God’s voice as he tells Technoblade that he is fine, that he is making a mockery of the Blood God. He feels tears prick at the corners of his eyes, falling against his bed mat sent into disarray by his struggles.
He isn’t sure how long he lays there, sobbing and becoming a broken mess. He knows that his scratches have lost their burn, and the sun has sunk lower into the sky. He’s fallen behind, he knows this too. His meticulous plans were demolished due to one little nightmare.
He rolls over finally, Carl huffing unhappily as he kicks the snow beneath him. Technoblade mutters a soft apology to the air, before pushing himself up with a struggle. His body aches, and his throat begins to burn with movement.
Finally aware of the world, he looks on to his fire. The embers had long since burned out and were dusted in a light layer of snow. He’s tempted to reignite it, bring himself a fleet in moment of warmth. But he was already hours behind his schedule. He couldn’t afford another stop.
Technoblade worries his bottom lip, before dragging himself to stand completely. He has nothing left to pack besides his kettle, and he hooks it to the side of his bag snugly. Carl huffs impatiently beside him, and Technoblade tugs an apple from his satchel as an apology. The horse takes it happily, and Techno runs his hands through his mane.
He allows Carl to finish the apple, before swinging his legs over and mounting the horse. He had a lot of time to make up if he wanted to make it to the capital on his schedule and would likely have no time to stop before he got to his first city.
-
He rides well into the night, the moon rising from its hiding place and settling itself high in the sky. A cold settles over the land, colder than the average weather that consumed the empire he lived within.
He’s tired, though he does not stop except twice to allow Carl to drink and rest. He cannot have his horse failing him due to his own incompetence. He almost lets out a pitiful noise as the warming lights of a small town sharpen in his eyes, approaching over the hill he’s mounting.
Once inside, Carl treads quietly against the dirt roads of the tiny town. It was situated on the outskirts of the empire, snugly nestled between mountains towering over them. It was a gorgeous place, all in all. The town was sleepy, the few inhabitants seeming to keep to themselves as Technoblade makes his way through the town.
He’s not sure of the name, something along the lines of Pogtopia, or something similar. He doesn’t really care, wanting to seek bedding in the inn he’s mapped out. As well as a stable for Carl, and perhaps a meal too. He had the coin for it, he’d budgeted everything out accordingly before he left.
The path beneath him gives way to shoddily placed stones, Carl’s hooves tapping loudly against the concrete as Technoblade eyes the buildings around him.
The inn should be somewhere nearby, nestled within the heart of the town. His eyes pass over each building, till he fortunately finally lands on the inn. The building is decent sized, with a path out back where he can just barely see a set of stables peeking out from behind.
He rides toward it, tugging Carl’s reigns forward and tying them closely against a small fencepost that sat near the door. He’d move the horse, after he paid for his night’s stay.
He gives Carl a pet, before heading into the inn. The soft smell of baked goods hit him, and he huffed a little bit in sudden nausea. The sweetness was overwhelming, while also being comforting at the same time. It was an odd, confusing set of feelings.
“Hello!” A feminine voice calls to him, and he turns his head to the counter. A pink haired woman sits, an apron hanging off her waist as she wipes her hands on a towel. “Welcome to Pogtopia Inn!” She smiles.
He nods, stepping forward to the counter without any words. His boots knock snow onto the wooden floor, and he can see the woman scowl a little at that, though not directly to him. “I need… one night. And a place to store my horse.” He tugs a bag of coin from his pocket, sliding it forward towards the woman.
She takes the coin, holding it firmly in her hand. “There’s a stable back out, it’s extra though.” she says, untying and emptying the coin into her hands. She counts it, though her eyes keep a steady train on Technoblade.
“Theres enough there.” He responds, simply.
“Well, I’ll be the judge of that.” She says, although her tone is oddly light, “What brings you to Pogtopia? We don’t get a lot of visitors, especially this time in the year.” She hums, the coins emptying out of her hand, properly counted. She slides it back into the purse, and places It beneath the counter.
“I have business to attend to in the capital city. Your town was on the route here.” He discloses enough information to answer her question but not enough to give away anything. Although, he does not think a normal person would automatically jump to assuming what his duty in the capital is.
“Oh! I make a trip every year, haven’t gone yet though.” She looks up and smiles at Technoblade, and with the coin all accounted for she seems more inclined to treat him with politeness. Technoblade can respect that.
“I have never been,” He replies hesitantly, “Is it crowded?”
“Oh, very. But usually, it thins out eventually. The nightlife there is really something to behold, you know?”
He hums, “Thank you for the information.” He thinks for a moment, before asking “Do you sell meals? Or know where I could purchase one. I have been on the road all day.”
“We sell pastries, but the tavern down the road sells meals. I have some stuff for your horse, free of charge. I love caring for horses.” She grins, leaning forward on the counter. Technoblade chews on the inside of his mouth, hard enough to taste blood. He doesn’t like the closeness but refrains from forcibly stepping back as to not cause a scene.
That’s the last thing he wants.
“Thank you.” He repeats, although he does thrust another few coins Niki’s way when the woman turns away.
-
After he’s returned from his dinner, Niki shows him to his room. He doesn’t speak, exhaustion tugging his body too forcibly for him to even manage words. She doesn’t comment, perhaps she can feel the tiredness radiating off his body.
He wouldn’t be surprised.
He sits in the bed, it’s larger than his one at home. It’s softer too, the sheets and blankets feeling like heavenly clouds against his calloused skin. It doesn’t take him too long to sink into the pleasantry and delve into a deep sleep.
-
He’s back in the abyss.
Unlike the previous night, the void is completely devoid of screaming. The only noise that feeds his ears is his horribly harsh breathing, wrecked by panic sweeping and swirling in his core.
He’s alone, whatever had attacked him had fled from the scene. Hesitated to kill him, or perhaps succeeded in demolishing the Blood God’s champion, leaving his body to rot as he proclaims victory to his peers.
Nobody could truly kill him; he’d just rise from whatever shallow grave they buried him within.
Technoblade lays there, curled into a pathetic ball. He cannot bring himself to rise to his feet, too afraid of the void consuming him and never letting him go.
“How.. interesting.”
Something calls to him, something teasing. Something crude. His eyes snap open as he sits up, lungs sucking in sour and corroded air. Nobody’s there, nobody’s ever been there.
He’s alone, for as long as he can remember he’s been alone with nobody but the voices in his head and his God beckoning him.
“You lie upon the ground like a dog. Get up, you’re embarrassing yourself.” The words are sour and inflict acid upon Technoblade’s skin. Perhaps he deserves it, maybe he always has.
Technoblade cannot find the strength to pull himself up, and his incompetence leaves room for the voice, whoever it may be, to grip his knotted and tangled hair and rip him from the ground.
He bites a scream so hard that he finds the taste of hot blood in his mouth, familiar, safe.
“I thought I killed you.. Well, I certainly won’t misuse this chance.” The voice snickers to him, and Technoblade peels open his crusted eyes to try and see his killer, to see who finally brought the conduit of the Blood God to its knees.
He sees nothing more than blonde strands of wispy hair on a horrible maw of teeth before his throat is slashed, and he knows no more.
-
When Technoblade wakes, he does not find himself on the bed anymore.
He has fallen to the hard wooded floors, his face pressed harshly against them as he gasps against the floor for a moment. His hands seek purchase, finding nothing but splinters into his calloused skin.
The nightmare does not jar him as much as believed, though he still fails momentarily to fill his lungs with enough oxygen to refill the amount he has lost from his harsh and jagged breaths. It makes his chest ache, and a headache forms just behind his eyes.
It was going to be a very long day.
He doesn’t lay there long, fully conscious that he needs to go now to make it to the final stop before the capital, if he wants to make a good time.
He packs his room quickly, going as far as to make the bed. He wanted no trace he had ever been there, and eyewitness accounts could not verify if he truly had passed through and slept a night at their local inn.
He purchases a pastry from Niki, the woman smiling brightly from behind the desk at him. She slips him feed for Carl, along with his food. He doesn’t know why, but he does smile back at her. Though it looks odd, and like it does not fit on his face.
-
He’s gone by the time the sun fully rises, it’s light painting the sky a beautiful blue. He would ride the entire day, then reach the final city by the time the sun fell from its throne in the sky and gave way to the moon.
The woods he had previously been traveling within give way to a path, open landscapes dusted with trees and other flora that dot the white canvas. He meets few people upon the path, and shares words with none. Most do not attempt to speak to him, a large, masked man with his face set in an ever-present anger, though the ones who do receive no words.
He hears them mumble something about him being rude, and it’s almost enough to make him chuckle.
The ride is quiet, peaceful, and he sets up camp a way away from the road he travels, and rests. The next day passes as a blur, and sighs in a quiet relief as the city comes into view. This one is larger than the last, a proper city rather than a small, quiet and sleepy town.
He can hear the people bustling about their days, many winding down to slumber while for some the day is just starting. He does not remember the name of the town, it having been scrubbed off of his map through the use of it.
He rides in, though a voice stops him.
“You’ll have to stable your horse here, can’t take em’ any farther in the city.” A man with blonde hair and strangely purple eyes says to him, He’s leaned up against the short rock wall that sits around the stables. He bears the insignia of the empire, a guard, clearly.
“How much?” Techno asks, voice a little gruff from the disuse of his trip.
“Fifteen gold for the night. Thirty for the day tomorrow, too.” The man pushes himself forward a little, moving to stand toe to toe with Technoblade.
Technoblade turns to one of the bags, flipping the top open to rummage in for a few moments before producing a coin purse. He closes the bag and turns back to face the purpled eyed man. “Fifteen. I intend to stay the night only and leave before the sunrises.”
“That’s hardly the night I think- “The blonde-haired man begins, and Technoblade scowls for a moment.
He holds the bag out, dropping it without any warning. The man catches it, though with an awkward chuckle. He mutters out a “have a good night” that Technoblade doesn’t catch before he’s turning to the stables to board Carl for the night.
It’s not long before he’s in the city proper. Warmth and cascading light spills from the taverns that seem like they are every two buildings. It’s nauseating, the nightlife that seems to swallow the city once the sun begins to set and the cool of the night sets in.
The inn isn’t far, sitting cozily on a street corner between what looks to be another tavern and a private residence. Techno enters, the cold spilling into the warm wooden building as he does so. The people inside peer at him oddly, as though analyzing him. He does not pay it any mind.
He approaches the desk, already fishing a bag of coins out for the night. The man eyes him, and Technoblade can see the way he chews the inside of his cheek. “What can I do for you?”
“I want a room for the night.”
“That’ll be 150.” The man says, and he reaches forward to take the satchel from Technoblade’s hands as he offers it forward. The man does like the last innkeeper, counting it. But his glances upward to the masked man seem to be malicious.
Like he’s expecting the man to jump out like a beast from a children’s horror story.
“Last door on the right,” he says suddenly, drawing Technoblade from his musings. He jerks his hand down a short hallway to the left of the desk. Technoblade gives the man a curt nod, before wandering off to his room.
The bed isn’t quite as nice as the last inn, and the floor creaks beneath his weight as though the floor were older than the earth itself. It’s strange, though he pays it no more mind than he should.
He draws himself a quick bath in the adjacent bathroom, washing away the muck of almost a weeks’ worth of travel from his aching bones. It’s pleasant. And the lingering warmth helps him drift off into a deep sleep as soon as his head hits the bed.
-
He sits in a grassy meadow.
He feels the blades of greenery beneath him, tickling his bare legs. He’s smaller, younger. He does not bear the weight of the Gods on his shoulders, just simply content to play amongst the grasses and flowers.
He runs his hands in the mud, unscarred and unharmed. The sight almost jars him. But, he’s content here. He is safe.
Theres somebody humming nearby.
It’s soft and sweet. He wants to call it motherly, though the word escapes him. He had never experienced the love of a mother, nor a father. Just the cruel love of a God as he served as his vicious right-hand man.
He turns his head, tilting ever so slightly in curiosity. It’s a woman, brown hair flows down her back and once it meets the ground, spills into an endless abyss. He swears he can see stars within it.
“I can see you there, little one.” She teases, her voice is light. It echoes and wraps warmly around him. “I’m so glad you have woken up. Did you have a nice nap?” She turns to face him, though her facial features are gone and replaced with the same inky abyss. He can see the stars within it.
He tries to speak, tries to formulate words. Instead, small squeals and oinks come out in place of common tongue.
“Now, now.” The lady says, rising from her seated position. Grass sticks to her overflowing skirt, though she makes no moves to tap it away or remove it. She simply looks at Technoblade with all the love in the world that he could possibly conceive. “I’m so sorry to disturb your playtime, child.” She runs her hands through his hair, tangled though not horribly so.
Technoblade stares up at her, another squeal passing his lips as he shakes his hands excitedly. The woman picks him up, and he can see the starlight in her face. The way they call to him. He’s safe in the embrace.
“You need to wake up now, okay?” She says to him softly, pressing a soft kiss to the crest of his head.
He squeals, this time unhappily. He doesn’t want to! He’s safe, he’s warm. He feels at home in the embrace of starlight.
The worlds twisting around him, too much all at once.
“Wake up, okay?”
-
Technoblade wakes.
It’s soft, gradual. Nothing like his wake ups the past few days. The horrible clawing sensation at his bones, the lack of oxygen getting to his lungs as he lays pitifully in a bed that swallows him. No, it’s as simple as opening his eyes.
The mysterious woman’s humming echoes in his mind, even as he pays the tavern keep for a small breakfast. It echoes as he saddles upon Carl, heading the last leg of his journey into the capital.
Carl is tired, as is Technoblade. However, Technoblade did not spend the last week carrying a man from town to town. He decided very quickly to splurge a little on getting the best boarding that his coin could buy.
It’s heading into the evening when the walls of the capital first fight their way through the horizon.
He looks up at them, marveling a little at the sheer size of them. As he approaches, he can see finer details on the walls. Small crows and other birds that Technoblade cannot name are engraved into the stone, the creatures’ wings splayed proudly.
He does not marvel at the walls, and he comes to be grateful for this. Because, getting into the city takes longer than he would like.
The guards search every bag he brings with him, presumably searching for contraband. Things like potions, illegal enchantments. Technoblade is not so stupid as to bring something like that with him.
All in all, by the time the moon rises, and the nightlife comes alive, he has Carl boarded in one of the best stables in the city. The horse huffing in assumed content as he snacks away on meal and rests in the stables.
He’s tired, and he feels like he’s liable to fall to the ground and sleep for 100 years if he does. Though he does power through, eyes finally settling on his one goal.
He picks one of the many inns scattered inside the walls. Unfortunately, the one he picks seems to be right on the towns square. He’s too tired to walk to the next one and pays for the room quickly.
And, for a moment he considers heading to bed without a single meal. It’s oh so tempting, but his stomach growls and his body feels weak for just a moment as if telling him “please, we require food” and he decides, maybe that’s a bad idea.
He exits the inn, cloak dawned snuggly against his body as he eyes the town’s square. A night market of sorts seemed to have popped up, people everywhere with small bags of items. Music is drifting in from somewhere, but Technoblade doesn’t see a musician.
Vendors sat, chatting away with customers. Food stands also sat near the back, and that’s what draws Technoblade’s attention the most. Now that he thinks about it, delicious mixtures of smell waft through the air. Carried by the vendors themselves, and those who purchased and transported the food around the square.
It’s a heavenly sight, and his stomach growls once more. He steps down into the lowered city square, and begins his far too long and crowded trek to the far back of the square.
He shoulders his way through the crowds, shoulders drawn forward and head lowered. Crowds made the man uneasy, too many sets of eyes that in one single second could be all on him. It unnerved him.
The food vendors sat near the back, after all the general goods. A tactic, no doubt. Make you walk through all the stalls persuading you to buy something from them. Your strength would waver on one good as you continue your walk, and the cycle begins anew.
Technoblade did not fall for this, of course. He kept his eyes dead set on the stall he intended to purchase from, hand clenching and unclenching around the coin purse he held. He dodges and shoulders past people who stand in his way.
It takes a few moments, but his meal is secured in his hands, and he wanders back towards the inn at mach speeds, wanting nothing more than to be rid of all the people around him, and to fill his belly and sleep for years.
He, of course, is unable to do this as his body collides with another in front of him. He hits an odd texture, like the wings of birds he’s killed for meal. Almost like feathers….
“Oh-? “The person speaks, turning and facing him in a swift turn. Wisps of blonde hair-
-on a horrible maw of teeth before his throat is slashed-
Technoblade jolts back from the person, dropping his meal to the floor.
“Oh jeez, mate, I’m sorry about that.” The man speaks, his voice remorseful. His blonde hair is drawn back into a ponytail, revealing feathers dotting his face. He’s wearing an odd green striped hat that Technoblade would classify as tacky. A green cloak covers his shoulders and the fabric pools at his feet.
Although the most startling characteristic is the bird like appendages that sit snugly against his back, obviously pulled in to stop from clotheslining a person with them. It tugs a horrifying feeling from Technoblade’s chest, it tightens and constricts him.
Technoblade being brought to his knees, his throat is slashed, angry and hot and bloody, angry inky wings beating harshly against the stale air that burned his nostrils. He was afraid, he was afraid! -
He bites his tongue so harshly he feels metal fill his mouth, the memory assaulting his senses before he had time to even react. He huffs in discomfort, biting down a childish squeal. His instincts tell him to run, run!
He ignores them, simply looking at the man. Technoblade tilts his neck to look down on the man slightly, no wonder he had rammed into him, before uttering a small “Apologies.” The word sounds stiff coming from his mouth, like he had not used the word in years.
The man eyes him for a moment, an unreadable emotion flittering past his face as quickly as it appeared, before a small smile grows on his face. “It’s alright, there’s quite a lot of people here. Sucks about your meal though, let me buy you a new one?”
Technoblade stares at the man for an embarrassingly long moment, before speaking. “I ran into you; you do not have to pay for my mistake.” He tilts his head curiously, pursing his lips.
“It’s no trouble, I shouldn’t have been standing there anyway!” He laughs, and it’s loud. It hurts Technoblade’s ears a little bit, although no more than the bustling market around them already has done.
Technoblade does not laugh back, and there’s an awkward moment where neither of them speaks or moves, until the stranger does so.
The winged stranger coughs, before speaking “Anyway… Which vendor did you buy from, mate? I can get you the same thing, as a sorry.” He smiles, a gesture that seems horribly overused and glued to the man’s face.
Technoblade is confused for a moment, before stating “But… I ran into you. Why would you need to apologize to me?”
The man stares at him blankly for a moment, before clarifying “Because I can,” The words are spoken with a sweetness, and it makes Technoblade the tiniest bit uncomfortable, “And I’ve got the gold to spare, so please allow me.”
The answer is no more confusing when reiterated, though any fight leaves Technoblade as his stomach growls angrily at him once more. He doesn’t want to fight the man; he just wants to eat and sleep for the rest of his life. So, Technoblade points in the direction of the vendor, “Over there. I can lead.”
“Lovely. My name’s Phil, by the way.” The man says, stepping ahead, although slowly enough that Technoblade meets his stride in one step.
Technoblade worries his lip, before uttering a small “Technoblade.” In response. Phil makes a face briefly, almost like a recognition, though it disappears as quickly as it came. A strange man, Phil was.
They set the walk towards the vendor, Phil saying something to Technoblade, though he can’t hear it over the rush of voices around him. It sems impossibly more crowded then when he had first entered the market, if that was even possible.
As they walk, people talk to Phil. He never stops, though clearly speaks to the people in a way that does not seem dismissive. People try to talk to him too, though his mask and permanent scowl rights that wrong very quickly.
If Phil notices him doing this, he doesn’t comment on it. He simply follows Technoblade while chatting, though somehow not invasively. He just speaks about the vendors, or the people that stop them. It’s nice, almost.
They reach the vendor, and Phil tugs out a satchel from beneath his cloak. He smiles once more at Technoblade, gesturing to the menu “Alright, get whatever you want, ‘kay?”
Technoblade swallows thickly for a moment, nodding. He mumbles the exact same thing he got earlier, grateful that the vendor hears him, and he need not repeat himself again. It’s a few more moments again before the bag is safely in his hands. He holds it tightly, though not tight enough to bust the contents inside of it. The bag is warm, and it feels nice in his scarred and burnt hands.
Phil smiles, “This is my favorite vendor. Never fails to make great food,” The man turns, saying something to the vendor before exchanging him money, far more than Technoblade sees the food cost, though he says nothing.
“So, what brings you to the city?” Phil hums, crossing his arms and turning to look at Technoblade. He doesn’t respond, simply staring at the winged man. “I get it, not a big fan of small talk. Me neither,” He laughs, and Technoblade chews his bottom lip.
And, while Technoblade does indeed hate small talk, he also did not expect to be drawn into simple small talk with a man he had crashed into only minutes earlier. But, the man is offering him a kindness that Technoblade feels it would be horrible to pass up, so he entertains the conversation.
“Looking for a job.” The lie rolls off his tongue quickly. Phil looks surprised, and Technoblade is afraid the man missed what he said.
“What kind? Maybe I can help you out, I know a lot of stuff about this place.” Phil replies a moment later, tilting his head a little.
Technoblade thinks, going quiet before muttering “Something to do with fighting. I’m good at it.”
Phil hums, and Technoblade watches the man tap his clawed finger on his cheek as he thinks. It’s almost a comedic sight.
“The castle is looking for new guards, I heard. Maybe you should give that a try.” He places his hands on his hips, smiling widely one more at Technoblade.
“I will think about it..” He offers up, if only to sate the man in the current moment. Luckly, his answer does exactly that and Phil nods. The vendor returns to the front of the stall, a slightly larger bag of food in hand. He nods to Phil, and the two pass the bag from one to the other.
“Well, enjoy your meal, mate. Maybe we’ll see each other again!” He shifts the bag in his grasp, and holds his clawed hand out to Technoblade, a gesture almost foreign to Technoblade.
He does not return this gesture, instead staring at it blankly and Phil’s smile lowers, morphing into an odd expression that Technoblade cannot name. The emotion is once again gone as quick as it appears, and the man pulls his hand back and settles for a simple wave.
Technoblade does not return this gesture either.
The two men go their separate ways, both equally exhausted of the horrible endeavors of small talk and formalities. Technoblade’s shoulders slump with a tension he barely registered holding so deeply in his body.
He walks back to the inn, once again shouldering through those who stand between him and that heavenly bed.
His minds full, thinking of the opportunity laid in front of him by the strange, winged man. Becoming a castle guard gave him an oddly easy way into the castle, a way to the king. It put his target surely in his daily line of sight, making the mission simple.
Something felt strange, an odd pit growing in his stomach. The opportunities felt too lined up, but perhaps he simply got off easily. He was not going to argue, it made it easier to appease his deity.
That’s what he lived for.
The sigils burnt into his skin burnt, a distant phantom memory.
He would make his god proud.