𝓣𝓮𝓬𝓱𝓷𝓸𝓫𝓵𝓪𝓭𝓮'𝓼 𝓟𝓞𝓥.
It's... blurry....
.̸.̴.̴w̸e̵ ̷w̷a̸n̷t̵ ̶b̸l̴o̴o̴d̸.̸.̵.̶i̶t̸'̴s̴ ̶t̶o̷ ̴c̸o̸l̴d̸.̸.̵.̴k̵e̸e̷p̸ ̴p̵u̸s̶h̵i̸n̴g̴.̸.̷.̵
Shut up...
.̶.̵.̴w̵a̶r̸m̷t̶h̷.̶.̴.̷.̵I̷ ̷w̴a̸n̴t̷ ̸t̷o̶ ̶s̴t̶a̴b̸ ̷s̴o̸m̴e̶t̷h̸i̸n̸g̴.̶.̵.̴.̸s̸h̶u̶t̸ ̶u̴p̵ ̸y̸o̸u̷ ̷a̶l̶w̶a̵y̸s̴ ̷w̵a̵n̷n̸a̸ ̷s̴t̴a̸b̵ ̴s̴o̴m̸e̶t̴h̸i̶n̷g̷.̸.̴.̷.̷b̷l̶o̸o̵d̴.̷.̴.̷.̴i̶t̷'̸s̸ ̴t̷o̵ ̴c̷o̵l̸d̴.̵.̵.̸
I'm trying here, be quiet.
N̴o̸t̸ ̷h̶a̶r̴d̵ ̷e̸n̸o̴u̵g̴h̶.̵.̵.̶T̵e̴c̷h̴n̶o̶b̴l̸a̴d̶e̸ ̶n̵e̸v̸e̵r̸ ̷d̵i̶e̶s̶.̸.̴.̷
The tall man tries to shake the voices. It's hard enough having travelled nonstop for 3 days in a snowstorm. He was hungry. He was fatigued. He didn't know how much longer he'd last.
Keep pushing... don't give up.
He kept telling himself. His vision was already fuzzed in a jumbled mess, and his lungs pricked with every breath he took. Despite being in his piglin form, he couldn't seem to find the warmth he longed for. Part of him regretted leaving back his L'Manburg friends. Part of him wished he stayed. They were warm. They had food.
N̵O̴!̵ ̴T̷h̸e̶y̷ ̶b̶e̵t̶r̷a̴y̶e̷d̸ ̸y̵o̷u̸.̵.̴.̷l̶e̶a̶v̸e̶ ̵t̴h̷e̵m̴.̸.̷.̶b̵l̴o̵o̶d̵.̶.̷.̵y̴o̸u̵ ̵s̸h̸o̴u̸l̷d̸'̶v̷e̴ ̶k̴i̸l̴l̸e̷d̴ ̶t̴h̵e̵m̵.̷.̸.̷m̷a̴k̸e̴ ̸t̴h̷e̷m̴ ̶p̴a̵y̴.̴.̷.̵
Oh, shut up...
The man kept trying to shake off his voices. Clenching onto his robe for any form of warmth, he pushes on in the desert of snow. In the distance, he sees light. Smoke, even. He wanted to make his way to it. It was shelter. Perhaps he could ask to stay for a while? Even if the resident was a murderer, or tried to attack him, he could just kill them.
F̴i̶n̷a̶l̷l̵y̶.̷.̷.̸.̵k̴i̸l̴l̷?̷.̸.̶.̷.̸w̶h̴a̵t̵ ̴i̵f̴ ̴t̷h̵e̵y̷'̵r̸e̵ ̷n̸o̴t̸ ̷a̶n̶ ̸e̴n̴e̶m̵y̷.̵.̴.̸n̷i̴c̴e̵.̷.̵.̵?̴.̶.̸.̸.̴n̷o̴.̶.̸.̸.̶e̸v̷e̸r̷y̷o̶n̶e̷ ̶b̷a̵d̵.̵.̶.̴.̵.̶p̵v̵p̴ ̴g̸o̷d̴.̷.̵.̷?̸.̸.̴.̵
Ignoring the voices once more, he makes his way to the small cabin in the distance. That is, until his legs give way.
Thunk.
Before he knows it, he falls back to his human form, cold snow providing some type of cushion, while his vision fuzzed to black, the wooden cabin taunting him in the distance.
---
𝓨/𝓝'𝓼 𝓟𝓞𝓥.
Stupid snow storm...
The young woman curses under her breath as she makes her way back to her house, her trusted malamute right beside her. She was facing the direction of the storm, but it didn't make it any easier to get home. Especially since the snow was midway up their calves. The cold air crashed against their back, almost making her fall over or lose balance every now and then. They clench the satchel that was slung across her chest, persevering through the snowy abyss.
Jeez... it was fine earlier. I hate this tundra, why did I decide to live here?
Y/N sees the smoke from her chimney in the distance, but her house is blocked by a snowy hill. Exhaling in relief, they rush over to the top of the hill, taking in the full view of their woody cabin. She slides down the hill, rushing over to the front steps of her welcoming home. As she was about to open the door, she heard Astek bark.
"What is it, boy?" Y/N asked their furry companion. Astek led the woman a little past their house. The big dog began to paw at the snow, digging until a small speck of red cloth was visible. "What is that?" Y/N spoke to no one in particular. She helps her dog uncover the certain something- or rather, someone, from under the snow. "What the hell?" The woman questioned as she studied the unconscious figure dressed in regal attire, moments away from frostbite.
---
Y/N huffs in relief as they felt the weight of the man fall off her shoulders, onto the couch of her humble abode. Walking over to the chests, they rummage the unorganized storage for firewood, flint and steel, and a blanket. For the time being, she told Astek to cuddle up with the stranger, just because of how fluffy he is. After finding her supplies, she starts a fire and covers the man with a blue blanket made from sheep wool. She actually made it herself, so every time she sees it, she can't help but feel a bit proud. Even if it is a bit messy. Clapping her hands, she steps back to analyze if there's anything else that needs to be done. Coming to the conclusion that there isn't, she takes the time to observe the anonymous man in front of them.
Y/N bends down in front of his face, the floor boards creaking under her. She studies his facial features and body structure, taking note of his long, messy pink hair that doesn't seem to have been washed for a couple of days, the skull mask of an unknown animal, elongated ears, almost like some sort of mythical creatures, and abnormally large bottom canine teeth that kind of look like small tusks. Almost like a boar. "You're a strange one, aren't you?" Y/N speaks to him, despite knowing he's unconscious and can't hear them. She reaches to take the mask off to study him more, carefully sliding it off the top of his head. The woman stood up to go place it next to the crown with dusted jewels.
Maybe I can polish his crown for him... Y/n ponders on the thought, figuring it might be nice while he's handicapped. She noticed earlier that he seemed to have taken a bad blow to his left leg and right shoulder, but knowing it was none of her business, she didn't think to much of it and decided that maybe he just got hurt on a couple of bushes and branches hidden beneath the snow when he fell.
They went to their chests to grab two cloths, and then a bucket. Filling the bucket with water, she patiently waited for it to reach half way before stopping the tap and carrying the bucket in front of the sleeping man. Getting back up, they got the crown and went back over to the bucket, taking a seat on the floor. She dipped one of the towels in the water and began rubbing it in circular motions on his crown, ringing it out every now and then if it got too filled with dirt, dust, or sweat. Finally getting around the entire crown, they rested the wet cloth on the side of the bucket, switching it out for the dry cloth. Proceeding to dry the crown, she continued to study the unconscious man, taking note of his red nose from the cold, and a couple of scars on his face. Despite deciding it was none of her business, curiosity got the best of her. The woman began to wonder what happened to him, why he was travelling so far out, and wondering why he was so wounded to begin with. Her eyes trail down to the bandage she wrapped around his leg, then up to the bandage around his shoulder.
How reckless...
The woman scolded him in her inner monologue, before noticing his face scrunching up from the corner of their eye.
"No...." The man mumbles. This catches Y/N's attention. They quickly look back up at his face. He looks like he's in discomfort. Agony, even. His eyelids tighten with furrowed eyebrows. His hands clench so much that his once red knuckles turn white.
Is he having a bad dream?
𝓣𝓮𝓬𝓱𝓷𝓸𝓫𝓵𝓪𝓭𝓮'𝓼 𝓟𝓞𝓥.
"YOU WANNA BE A HERO TOMMY? THEN DIE LIKE ONE!"
"TECHNO, NO!"
Bl̶o̷o̵d̸.̸.̸.̵k̴i̸l̴l̴.̴.̴.̸w̷i̸t̷h̷e̶r̶.̷.̴.̸.̶k̸i̴l̸l̴.̶.̷.̸b̷l̴o̷o̸d̵.̴.̵.̶e̴x̸p̵l̸o̴d̴e̶.̶.̴.̸
"TECHNO, STOP!"
No... stop it... go away...
"AHAHAHA!"
Stop...
"WHY?!"
I didn't want to hurt you...
N̸o̶,̴ ̷t̸h̷i̵s̵ ̸i̸s̸ ̷w̷h̴a̸t̶ ̴y̷o̷u̷ ̴w̵a̸n̵t̶e̴d̴.̷.̵.̵.̶ ̸b̷l̶o̴o̷d̵ ̷f̶o̵r̷ ̵t̷h̶e̵ ̵b̸l̵o̵o̷d̶ ̷g̷o̷d̶.̵.̵.̷
NO! I DON'T WANT THIS! STOP, PLEASE! I DIDN'T WANT TO HURT ANYONE!
Y̶͓͒͊͜E̷̮͌̽Ś̷͖ ̵͚̂͜Y̵̙͕̓Ö̵͍́Ǘ̵̮͙̓ ̶̯̦̈́Ḑ̸͆̂I̸̻̪̒D̸͓̫̊͑.̴̙̏ ̵̯̋B̵̝͕͑͗L̷͉͆O̴̬͌Ő̶̠̚D̸̡̰̽͝ ̴͉̊͗F̶̮̰̑̉O̷̲̍R̵̢̡̿̂ ̴̡͎̌̓Ţ̷̢̛H̵̟̦̀̄E̴̝̿͗ ̶̰͈͗B̶͎̏̽Ĺ̶͙̔O̷̧̨̿Ó̸̘͙D̷̦̊ ̸̯͋̌G̷͓̒͜Ȏ̸̲̀D̶̺̆́!̶̖̓͗
PLEASE, STOP! TOMMY RUN! I'M SO SORRY! I DIDN'T MEAN TOO!
B̶̰̹̩̤̄̈́̾̎̐͂̊̏̂̽̓͋̂̊̒ͅL̶͔͚̆̉ͅǪ̶̺̞͇̗̺͙̤̩̳͉̪̠̤͙̣̾́̔̽̇͑O̸͖͍̫͉͈̤̠͚͍̚͠D̶̰̼̈́̊͑̓̅͌͗̔̂̽̏́͗̕͘͝ ̸̧̦̻̤͕̖̙̗̞̺͙͇̲͂̿̎̉̓̔̈́̆͗́̑̀̑̉͆̏͘͠ͅF̸̢̛̪̞̰̭̠̘̪̣̤̭̳̜͚̥̘̍́̓̓̆̉̆͘̚͝͝Ờ̸̞̹͍̭̟͎̗̈́̓̅̏̔̀̈́̉͗́̿̚͘͜R̴̡̜̣̼̦̮͊̄͗̍̿̓̽͛̐̀̕͘͠ ̸̨̢̧̛̹̪̟̼̬̳̬͈͖̪̥̺̫̩̈͑̿̃̊̉̌̏̍̔̒̈̄̾̊̎̚T̷̹̲̯̲̼͈̗̭͈̱̖͈̞̦̥̮̀͊͜͜H̴̳̘̫̞̱̦̹̗̫̬̣̫̬͖̫͋̌͑̎̇̀̑̌͌͝͠Ē̵̡̨̡͍̘̝͈̩̥͖̣̟͎̗͕̼̜̋̔͐̒̃̈͗̈́̌̈́̒͑͐͝͝ͅ ̴͖̓͐͆̀̌̋̅B̷̧͉͇̂̔̂̆̏̐͠Ļ̷̤̙̥̂̽̃͋̈́̏̉̃̑͐̈̂̊̚̚Ó̴̠̬̙͎́̂͂͛̅͐͂̇́̏̚͠Ȍ̶̢̡̺͎̻̹͍͉͉͎̮̝͕͕̘͙̜̎̀̋̒̋̓̀̅̒̋Ḑ̷̡͚̝̬͖̬͈̙̠̀̔̈̏͛͛̈̊̆̈̽̃̆̂̓ ̷̡̯̓̐́͂̉Ģ̷̨̮̦̯͚̯͇̻̪͉̗̱̰͔́̋͛̈́͋́̅̌͆̏́͠Ǫ̵̱̣̣̦̩͖͓̯̦̺̮͉̣̏̈͗̽̆̚͜͜Ḏ̵̨̛͓̯̹͓̻̲̞̖̩͙̮̦̋́̿͊͜.̴̨͕̰̩͔̠̙̮̪̗̪̻̤̝͇̜̻̈̆͆̈́̈͊̽̾̿̇̓̈̅̑̕͠ͅ
I DIDN'T MEAN TO!
Ş̶̧̡̛̞̭̥̲̠̪͙̫̰͎̗̲̘̝̲̙̪̗͓̲̳̟̳̟̟̰͖̝͇̪̙̖͋́̾Ḩ̷̡̞̖̘̭̥͙̜̗̥̻̤̥̝̭̗͙̥͕͈̜͇̥̻̻̹̯̺̤͖̪̱̖̩̭̭̖̠͈͙̮̅̊͑̈́̿̅̍̃̑̓̾̍̏̀̒̑̆̒́̓̉̆̋̉̈́̎̅͑̕̚̚͝ͅŬ̸̪̥̱͎̬̹̯̗̳̦̳̹͓̱͖̯͈̫̟̠̪͖͕͂͜ͅT̵̨̧̛̛̲̹̫̤̭͍̭̮̹̙̩̮͔̣͉͚̱̪͙̮͕̖͔͈̰̙̰̱͔̣̝̍̋̀̊̾͒̓̈̇̈̽̾͊͐̒́͂̑͆̈́͐̾͗̂̍͊̂͋̚̚̕̕̚̕͜͠͝ͅ ̸̧͈͕̼͙̱̼͈̼̞̥̹̱̘̰͙̥͖̭̰̗̟̘̠̰͉̹̥̼͇͚̼̬̮̝̔̈́̈́Ų̸̡̨̧̮̣͈̰̦̳̰͙͚̖͎̼̥̦͈̖̭̦̦̦͖̰̮̭͈̤͖͕̖͂̆͑̐̅̃́̓̂̈͗͘̚͜͜͜ͅP̴̢̧̡̧̫̫̟͍̱̹̲̖̜͇͇̩̙͔̼̰͓͎̪͖̪̥͈͎̮̠̥̜̼̺͔̉̒̀̌̎̒!̸̧̧̛̹̪̬̻̪̦̗̻̜̲̩̹̤̪̩̫̫͔͖̪͖̤̥̥̠̻̠̺̮̣̯͕̜̼̜͚͕̞̩̄͌̀̆͊͝ͅͅ
TOMMY! WILBUR! PHIL! I'M SORRY! NO!
No...no...no...it's not my fault...it was the voices...it's not me...it's not my fault...no...no...no...it's not my fault...it's not my fault...it's not my fault...it's not my fault...it's not my fault...it's not my fault...it's not my fault...it's not my fault...it's not my fault...it's not my fault...it's not my fault...it's not my fault...it's not my fault...it's not my fault...it's not my fault...it's not my fault...it's not my fault...it's not my fault...it's not my fault...it's not my fault...it's not my fault...it's not my fault...it's not my fault...it's not my fault...it's not my fault...it's not my fault...it's not my fault...it's not my fault...it's not my fault...it's not my fault...it's not my fault...it's not my fault...it's not my fault...it's not my fault...it's not my fault...it's not my fault...it's not my fault...it's not my fault...it's not my fault...it's not my fault...it's not my fault...it's not my fault...it's not my fault...it's not my fault...it's not my fault!
Ḅ̴̡̡̡̧̧̧̨̧̢̧̡̛̛̛̛̪̮͇͓͉̥̗͕̲͔̜̟̹͕̲̟͉̖͈̘̤͈̫̬͍̭̳͖̙̻̫̺̖̟̣̝̹̗̠̳̟͙͓͕̗͍͖̰̜͓̞͔͓͔̯̗̱̟̙̭̜͓͚̲̣̼̰̙̝̺͔̺͈̲̲͕͇̲̻̖̝͔͉̞̝͙̫̥͕̲̳͙̬̙̭̜̟̺̥̤͉̞̮͎̩̜̪̩̠͚̺͕͚̜̦͂́̓͛́́͗̈́̏̍̋̅́̃̿̓͂̋̇̀̏̾͒̂̇͋̏̆̈́͐͋͂̑̽̇͛̇̽̍̐͌̑̀͛́͂̊̑̅̓̈́̽̈́̒̎̏̓̀́̓́̄͊̒̏̀̊̾̃́͊̄̑̈́̀̓̇́̈̊̃͊̄̏̇͗́͛̊͊̐͋̂̆̈̒̈̇́͑̒͆̔̀͑͌̀̓̅̆͑̅̅̒̍́̈́̌͂͋̅͒͗̈͌̀̆̊̀̿̾̈́̏̾́̒̀͆̈́̀̀̓̊̓̀̊̾́̈̄̇͘͘̕̕̚̕̚͘̚̕̚̕̕͘̕̕͘͘̚̚͜͜͜͜͜͝͝͝͠͠͝͝͠͠͝͝͝ͅͅL̶̢̡̨̨̧̧̨̧̧̢̛̛̛̛̛̛̬̟̳̫̹̰̪̟̱̼͎̰̱͕̦͉̩͍̹̟͈̖͖͔͉̙̟̩̙̱̱̟͉̣̹̝̠͙̪̱̟̩̫̠̗͍̰̙̳̠̳͇͎̖̗̠̻̖̣͓̗̭̹̞̭͕͚̘͙͓̼̯̟͖̩̜͇̺͓̭̮͉̫̙̪̬̻̳͓̗̩̦̺̯̗̮̟̫̤̮̪̪͇̬̑͗͑̈́́̓̒͌͑͛̾̂̽̏̂̓́͒͌̎̐͑̃̐̔͌̒̓͑̆̄́͗͑̅͋̓̈̆̽̏̉̎̔͑͌͌̉̐͗̿͋̃̎͌̾̉͌́̅̈̐̈́̈́̉̈͌̐̾͆̀͗̍̈͋̄̆̑̐͊̓͒̎́̀̇̈̿̽̓̈́͊̈́̊̃͂͌̄͒̈́̈̃̋͂͆̍͊̈́̎̉̽̈́͊̒̌̀̍̃̌͒̾̈́̓͑̀̾̐̿̉̀̔̚͘͘͘͘̚̚̚͜͠͝͠͝͝͠͝͠͝͝͝͝͠Ỡ̵̧̺̻̬̪̰͚̭͉͙̲̫̥̻̳̟̲͓͖̳̣̱̍͒̍̈́́̒̒̑̀̏́̏̈͗͋̽̐̓͛̂͑̏̃̃̔̔̎̉͊̀̀̆̿̌̔̎͆̿̂̓̏̈́́̓̏̽̎̈̅̋̈̎̀́̽̑̋̎͛̔͗́͒̓̃̾̄̃͗̀̇̋͗̉͑̋͒̀̉͗̄̓̑͑͗̓̉͘͘̚͜͠͝͠Ǫ̶̡̧̢̨̨̡̨̡̨̢̧̡̧̨̛̙̬̖̫͇͚̟̱͈̯̬̩͎͈͚̟̳̲̠̣͚̩̫̰͇̯͙̟̻̹͕̬̹͕̦̲̣̗̳̖̖͔̱̖͎̰̖̭̖̪̫̤̰͍̣̘̻̮͎̘͓̙̣̻̭̹̱̭̟̲͕̼͖̯̩̥͚͚̼̮̼̝̝̣̯̭͕͚͍̭̙̗̖̖͇͔̗̦̪̙̪̟̩̪̜͎͈̦̖͕̬͚̝̥̙̺̘̳̜͖̻̭͖̪͎̮̟̘̭̫̬̻̤͓̜͚͚͕̮̪̮̺̦̜̹̺̲̪̥̭̦̺̺̩͕̭͍̖͉̞͍̲̼̖͓̖̻̻͕̃̓̿͐̐͒̍͗̄̒͐͑̾͂͐̿̀̓͊͂͐̿̓̄̆̌̊̅̈́̇̎͐̑͒͆͂̐̈́̾̃̃̆̓̈̀́̈́̏̅̒̉͘̚̕̕͘͜͜͜͜͜͜͜͜͜͜͝͝͠͝ͅͅD̸̨̨̢̢̡̢̡̧̢̧͈̰͕̼̱͇͕̦̙̦̭͙̩̩̮̜̺̹̱̺̹̝̼̪̻̭̪̘͍̬̹̫̼̭̘̼̩͇͈̘̹͉̲̬̱̺͎̮͖̝͖̬̱̯̤̥̫̦̣̠̝̫̮͕̖͚̰̖̠̹̦̟̮͇͎̳̫̻̼̻̘̰̣̻̰̱̦͇̬̳͍̳̿̐͋̈̓̀̕͜͠ͅͅͅͅͅ ̸̢̡̡̡̨̨̢̛̛̠̙̼̫͈̠̝̝̣͓̞̦̰͖̱̗̩̮͍̹̬͚͕̻̘̻̳̫͕̘͚̥͖͖͚̲̱̲̥̰̬̼̖̯͚̫̻̖̟̠̙̝͈͎̮̻̯̺̯͚̹̰̹͖̹̺̻͓͙̬̤̫̺̻̳͎͕̌͌̄̓͋̌͂͊͐́͒̈́̈̾̃̽̄̓̅̈́̎́͌̈́̓͂͗̓̆̈́͌̏́̐̄͒́̈́͛̊̇̿̀̍̄̈͂͌̽̊̆͊̊̓̌̌̉̓̇̑̓̂̍̏̅̾́͆͛͊̓͗̒̇̎́̒̉͑̋̍́̾̈̐̀̄͊͊̈̽͛͂̊̓͂͛̑͌̎̉̓͆͋̈́́̄̓͂̾̈́̓̊̉̔̏̍͆̈̋̿̔̋͘͘͘̚̚̚̕̚̕͝͝͝͝͠͝͠͠͝͠ͅF̷̧̧̢̡̢̡̡̧̢̛̛̦̙̖͉̫͇̩͉̱̼͙͉̞̮̹͎̗̖̰̣̞̤̺͇̖͇̙͔̫͍̮̫̙͕̻͕͖͈̯͚̝̺͚̩̘̮̥̻̮̜̙̬̥͓̼̻̖͕̦͈͎̙̝̤͎̯͔̜͙̫͔̗̤̱͍̣̖̫̱̟̮̫͔̻̩̲̬͓̘͖̺͙̼̭̳̱̯͕̣̙̦̀̇̑̈͋̿̇̿́̇́̇̈́̀̑̀͂͋̀́̂͗̽̔͒̐͑͗͋̀̌̄̑͂̋̎͌̀̽͂̈́̅̌̀̅̋̑̇́̏̆͗̑͒͆̍̀͋͑̎͌̔̐̀̕̚̕̚͜͜͜͜͝͠ͅͅͅͅǪ̸̧̢̧̧̧̢̢̡̧̡̢͓̹̤̯̝͉̟̮͔̟̜̝̙̮̖̗̤͕̦̥̞͚͓͎̺̦̠̩̞̩͎͙̮̺̫̺̥̰̲̙̩̹̥͕͉͓͙̱̜̹̯̘͕̪̣̫͇̹̘̥͙̰̗͍̣̮̻̰̞̘̼̱͎̣̼̙̲̪͍̜̹̰͇̯͔̝̩̜̰͇͓̳̜̙̫̓̈̀̔͋̉͒́̎̽́͆̋̾́̓͐̉͒͐̄͊͒͂̕͜͜͜͝͝͝ͅͅR̵̨̧̨̢̡̡̡̧̢̨̨̨̨̨̛̛͍̟̟̪͔̻̹͖̼̝̟͎͈̺̣͚̯̙̰͓̙̖̥̫̜̝͓̞̜͓̺͎̫͙̫̳͙̞̠̳̲͇̟̻̤̟̙̠̟͉͔̱̹͇̳̞͚͓̥͔̣̼̫̺͈͔̥̗̩͙̙̪̼̰͉̯̹̘̖̣̩̭͕͍̲͚̠̪̜͓̯̲̰͉̰̭̲̳̫̯͔͍̠̱̜̬̩̯̺̘̭͕̹̼̤̣̪̞̯̥̤̰͉̮̗͕͚̼̥̭̫̥̰̼̜̟̭͉͉̥͙̲̝̖̖̰̝̟̟̞̪̟̹̞̭̞̥̒͒̉̐̽̎́̅̓͒͐̃͑̆̈̽̈͋͂͂͗̉̾̍͐́́̄͂̃̎̊̍̀̆̍̄̐̀̓̀̽̅̄̍̎̐̓̊̀̀̈́̐̐̓͒̌̀̈͗͛͋̒̑̐̒̿̈̀̃̈́́̈́̔̋́̈́́̐̌͂̕̕̕͜͜͜͝͠͝͝͝ͅͅͅͅͅ 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̶̨̡̨̢̢̧̧͖͔̹̻̦̯͙̪̭̻͎̪͔̝̮͙̗͓̮̮̻̱̤̼̖͔̗̹̰̪̥͚͙̠̪̘̗̤̥̹͖͕͍̯̳̗̤͎̺̟̲̲̞̯̬̭͚̬͇̫̤̾̈́̎͊̀̆̽̕͜ͅB̷̡̨̢̛̛̛̛̛̼̞͍͎̦̹̼͎̦͖̣̉̾͗̑̆̄̓̂̿̏́́͐̂̀̔̌͋͛͆̄͂͊̋̃̎̈̏̈́́͗͂̏̃̊̀͐͗̀̑̒͛͒̈́͌͗̄́̒̆̓̌̄̈́͌̍̍̃̄̊̿̈̀̓̾̄̋̉̈́̿̈́̌͑́̋̄̄͒̈́̄͐͛̍͘̕͘̕̕͘͘̚̚͘͜͜͝͝͝͝͝͝͝͝͝͝͝͝͝L̶̨̢̧̧̧̨̨̢̡̧̢̨̡̛̛̛̛̛̛̦͔̜͚̤̟̜̣̜͉͈͔̯̫͇̬̥̮̱͎̙͕͎͙͙̰̮̬͚̬̻̥̰̥̪̹̣͎̼͓̠͓̥̭̤̮̼̗̘̮̮̞͍̫͇̳̱͚͎͔̩͇̜̞̜̳̹͍͚̳̲͖̰̤͕̙̪̯̥̤̟̥̦̮͙̫͙̣͓͍̬͇̬̠͍̤̠̳̺͖̜̼̗͉̦̤͚̺̩̠̲̮̻̭̦̩̗̘̼͖̬͚̟̤̹͎͇̰͕̯͔̜̳̫̙̇̈́̐́̋̈́͑̑͐͆̊̌͋̐͛̅̉̈̔͆̒̅̓͑̉̄̇͆̑́̒̀̈̏̔̅͆̐͛͆͗̏͑̓͊̏̀̈́̇͐̍͑̀͑́̇̌̌̎͗͗̐̏͛̃̏̉͒̀̃̏̈̃̾͒͒͐͐̇̓̐̑̊̀̊̃̊̒̍͐̈̂̈́̐̾͆͂̄̆̍͆̀̌̈́̄̎̈́̓͊̈́̈́̂̿̅̈̉̋̉͊̓̿̈̒͛̚̕̕̕͘̚̚͘͜͜͜͜͜͝͠͝͠͠͝ͅͅͅͅͅͅͅƠ̸̡̧̡̡̡̧̢̢̨̢̛̗͓͖̭̤͕͓̥͍̳̞̮͉͉̺̼͇̥͉̜̰̝̹̰͓̗͚̖͇͇̘̥̯̮̞̺̹͔̺͉̣̰͎̼͔̤̜̲͎̭̙̲̝̲̪̘͎̬̬͙͓̖̬̩̩̘͙̱͙̘̘̯̮͉̖̱̠̲̗̣̰̤̘͍̲̗̲̖̬̟͉̠͇̭͔̻͙̱̤̖̼̭͓̣͙̱̭͍̖̗̩̩̠̲̪̙̣̬̟̜͖̟̖̪͈̜̅͐̑̋͆̆͆̓͒̔͆̋̅̿̇͋̓͊̅͌̀̄̂͛͒̉̔̐̈̓͊̎̀̈́͊̀̉͆̈́̊̄́̈́̉̈́̍̉̂͛̿̇̀̇̑̓̔̍́͌͊̓͋͋̍̍͑̾̋̂̊̐̓͗̐̎̏̌̈́̋̌̏̈́͌́̍̍̿̈̂̓͒̇͛͋͋͑͗̂̋̂̓̅̕̕̕̕̚̕̕͘͜͜͝͠͝͠͝͝͝͝ͅͅͅͅǪ̸̧̡̡̨̡̛̛̛̪̠̝͇̭̦̥͕͔̫̳̱̪̺͉̫̟̲̱̰̪͉̯̟̗͎͚̣̠͇̦̣͖̬͉̳̺͚̥̯͇̱̻͉͈͈̖̺̞͙̘̫̲͙̺̯͈͎̣͇̯̞͓̘̞̯̮͍̫͎̪͈̠̹͎̊̽̀̽͗͌͂̐̾͋͌͗͐͑̅̐̾̀́̽̏̿̀̀̍̓̏͗̈́̉͊͌̍͛͊̃̊̅̾͑͊̽͋̓̇͒̾̿́͐͆͛̅̿͒̊̈́́́͘̕̚͘͜͜͠͝͝͝ͅD̸̨̨̧̧̡̧̨̧̢̡̡̡̨̛̼͎̲̱͉̠͓̲̘̥̝͈͉̳͓̞͈̼̤͙̺̘͍͈͙̱̻̥͇̜̳̭̳͉͔̝͈̠̺͉̮̤͓͚̺̦̝̠͈̮̼̞̣̥͓̞̘̖̻̦̼̯̘̪̣͔͚͕͕̳̝̞̰͉̘̝̥̦̫̝̯̙̥̠̣͓̮̻̺̥̣͓̞̯͇̲̬̝̬̻̱͙͖͍̥͎̈́̒͒͐̓̉͗͑́͋̀̅̆̌̉̿̈́̒̋̾̋͊̒̋̓̅͂̓̿̄̑̈̈̆̐͗̈́̂̅͒̾̋̈̔̀͑͑̒͛̔̉̀̒̀̉͒̿̃̈́͑͑̀̑̈́͊͋͊̈́̊̑̀͒͊͘͘̕̕͜͜͜͜͜͜͝͝͠͝͝͝͝͝͠͝͝͠͝͠͝͝͝͝͝ͅͅͅͅͅͅͅ 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Techno is suddenly snapped back to reality, springing up from his night terror. His breathing is heavy, eyes wide open, sweat trickling down every inch of his body. He looks around at his unfamiliar location. When he finally looks to the right, he see's a small girl. They looked panicked, but not in the sense of fear, in the sense of not knowing what to do.
"Are you alright?" The unknown lady asked, not knowing where to place her hands. As a result, she places a hand on his forehead, checking his temperature.
D̶a̷n̵g̶e̵r̷.̸.̵.̸k̷e̸e̸p̶ ̸c̵a̸u̶t̷i̵o̶n̶.̸.̵.̸p̴o̴t̸e̵n̷t̵i̷a̸l̶ ̵e̴n̷e̷m̸y̷.̶.̴.̷
"Oh my- you're incredibly hot!" The woman exclaims, but quickly covers her mouth. "I meant temperature wise. Not that you aren't attractive! You are, but I'm not like attracted attracted to you, y'know??" She rambles. Techno doesn't pay much attention. He was more focused on the throbbing headache he had. The woman takes notice and calms down. "Let me get you a cold towel. Please, lie back down." She spoke before getting up.
Ignoring her advice, he stands up and stumbles his way over to the door. He makes it two steps in before the stranger rushes over to him. "Woah, woah, woah. I said lie down, not get up." They said, lightly pushing him back to the couch. Techno only grunts in response, not wanting to owe a favor to another person. Despite his efforts, he couldn't fight back due to his weak state.
"Move." Techno demands, not at all trying to hide the hostility in his voice.
"This bit- I KNOW you did not just tell ME to move after saving YOUR ASS from DEATH." The girl angrily responds. Which was reasonable. She did show him immense hospitality after all.
"I never die." Techno responded, still glaring at her.
"Says the dude who was unconscious for about an hour now." She snaps back. Techno looks away. He didn't know what to say back, but he did know that he was annoyed.
J̵u̷s̸t̴ ̴k̴i̸l̶l̶ ̸h̸e̴r̷.̸.̶.̶p̶r̶o̸b̸l̸e̴m̴ ̴s̸o̷l̶v̴e̴d̵.̷.̶.̷
I'm not gonna kill her, no matter how annoying she gets. Not unless she attacks first.
"Look, I'm only trying to help you here. I can tell your not the type to work with others, but it's still a blizzard out there, and unless you want frostbite all over, you're staying here. End of story." The stranger sternly said, as if he didn't have a choice in the matter. Technoblade even came to the conclusion that he didn't. Admitting defeat, he lets his body fall back onto the couch.
She doesn't seem like much of a threat, I suppose...
E̵v̸e̴r̴y̶o̸n̴e̷ ̶i̶s̵ ̷b̷a̶d̷.̵.̴.̵k̷i̴l̸l̵.̷.̶.̷
Shut up.
"What's you're name?" The woman spoke, keeping Techno from arguing with the Voices.
"None of your business." Techno grudged. He wasn't planning on sticking around, why did it matter?
"Well, mine is Y/N. Because you won't tell me yours I'll just call you..." Y/N hums, turning around and tapping her finger on their chin, observing the man. "Elsa." She chuckles, amusing herself.
"Elsa-?" Techno questions.
"Well, I found you in the snow and you seemed to be going through a mid-life crisis, running away from family." Y/N mused.
"How'd you know I was running away from family?" Techno interrogated.
"Wait- you were actually running away? Ha! What a coincidence. Guess 'Elsa' really does fit you, big guy." Y/N laughed.
"Don't call me Elsa." Techno hissed. He watched as she began brewing potions. "What are you making?" He asked, monotoned.
"Poison." Y/N responds, mimicking his monotone voice. Techno furrowed his brows, tensing up as if he were preparing for combat. Y/N noticed and quickly said, "It was a joke, chill. I'm making healing and regen potions for you." She said, holding up the netherwarts and glistening melons. Techno sighs in relief, but still is cautious to watch her to make sure she doesn't slip in any glowstone dust. After some time, Y/N finally spoke. "I know I'm hot, but you don't have to stare at me." They joked. She looked back only to see the pink-haired man look the opposite direction.
"I wasn't staring at you, I was making sure you didn't try to poison me." Techno mumbled. Y/N sighed in response.
"I promise I'm not trying to kill you." Y/n spoke.
"Promises mean nothing." Techno monotoned.
"Who hurt you, man?" Y/N half-joked, though she was a bit concerned. Techno looked down. Maybe she was right. Maybe she was just trying to be nice.
"Technoblade." The man suddenly spoke.
"What?"
"My name. It's Technoblade." Technoblade monotoned.
"I like Elsa better." Y/N chuckled, only to earn a grumble in response from Techno.
"I told you not to call me Elsa." The man spoke. Y/N only chuckled in response before grabbing the regen and healing potions from the brewing stands.
"Here, drink up." Y/N said, handing the potions to Technoblade. He took them hesitantly before taking drinking it. Y/N watched as his adam's apple bobbed up and down from multiple gulps. She also took the time to realize how large his hands were. Not only that, but how beaten up they were as well. He was able to grab the larger part of the potion bottle with one hand with a rather strong grip. There were quite a few veins and scars on his hands, and his fingers had a couple of old, tearing bandages wrapped around them.
"Thanks." Techno spoke. Y/N simply smiled and got up, taking the empty potion bottles from him and putting them in the sink. Techno felt as his wounds healing processes sped up from under the bandages.
"You're staying the night. You seem like you haven't rested in days, and you need a shower as well. Not to mention that fever you got going on for ya'." Y/N spoke. Techno's fingers reached for his under eyes, feeling across his eyebags. He couldn't deny, he was in bad shape. Looking over to his left, he notices a fluffy, black and white dog laying peacefully. Petting the dog, he feels himself melt into the soft coat of the big animal. "That's Astek." Y/N spoke, referring to the big fluff ball Techno was petting. "He's friendly." She continued. He could've figured that out himself, based on the way the dog already is laying on it's back happily accepting belly rubs.
Y/N chuckles a bit before making their way to the barrels above a small counter. They took out some raw rabbit, potatoes, and a couple of carrots, chopping them all up and dumping them into a big pot. Techno could smell the brewing of a rabbit stew creep around him. Just then, his stomach grumbled. Maybe a bit to loud. He feels the heat rush to his face in embarrassment before covering his mouth and looking away.
"Don't worry, you'll get some too, Elsa." Y/N teased, continuously stirring the pot of soup. Techno groaned at the nickname once more, but ignored it by petting Astek.
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𝓨/𝓝'𝓼 𝓟𝓞𝓥.
"Food's ready." Y/N called back to the pink-haired main who's soft-side is showing towards her beloved dog. Both of the males ears pricked up at 'food' which she found quite funny. Techno stood up, and that's when the realization hit her of how tall he was. Easily 6'3.
(A/N: Y/N is short. I'm sorry my beloved tall women and nb's, but Y/N is short. Ily all tho ur so seggsy and hot gaw dayum)
Y/N stared up at the tall figure. Not only that, but he was quite fit as well. It was a bit intimidating. He sat down at a small, stone table that could only squish in about four people, max. In the middle was a small flower pot that contained a singular lily of the valley. Pouring some soup into two wooden bowls, she handed one to Technoblade, along with a makeshift- wooden spoon and napkin.
Techno seemed to examine the spoon. "Did you make this?" He asked, his eyes still locked on the spoon.
"No, it was a gift from an old friend." Y/N smiled back, recalling the blurry memories they had with the old blonde man and the children that came alone with him. "All I can recall of him is that he had blonde hair." She smiled, taking a sip of her soup.
Technoblade mirrored her movements, taking a sip of his own soup. He thought on what Y/N's friend was like. Also, why would you give someone a wooden spoon as a gift? Nerd.
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Word Count: 2,807
Thank you for reading! I hope you all enjoyed it <3 Where do you think the story is going? :)) Who's that childhood friend :flushed: LMAO