Kinemortophobia

Ch. 8 -Buzz-

Two weeks. That's how long since the Doomsday war, since the utter destruction of L'manburg. Ranboo had moved in, as per Philza's request, though Techno didn't mind. Though he would never ever admit it, Techno enjoyed the forgetful Hybrid's company.

They had been quiet recently, less prominent, less loud. Settled by the lifetimes of blood spilled and shed by his foes, by his blade. They hadn't been this quiet since... Well, he couldn't remember.

Philza and Techno were sitting on the front steps of his home, just as they had before the Doomsday war. Before Tommy left. Today was much more pleasant than others in the past weeks, though it was sure to not last long. February was creeping around the corner, bringing along its bottle of sub-zero vodka and icy glare.

Ranboo had departed earlier that day, mentioning something about visiting some friends back in the Dream SMP territories.

That left Techno and Phil home, alone for the day. Techno with no grinding to distract himself with, Phil with no one who wished to see him in the land beyond their tundra.

Techno was massaging his wrist as they sat, rubbing its tender skin. Another off-color patch had appeared on his arm, spreading down to his wrist. The awfully itchy patches on his ankle and his neck had been getting progressively worse, itching and spreading, more and more skin peeling off, bleeding more and more frequently.

Neither Phil nor Ranboo had noticed, Though Techno was sure that at least Phil was getting suspicious, due to the fact he was always tucking up the color of his jacket when he walked in the room.

Even the voices, who were normally the most unapologetic and unempathetic beginning in the world, seemed to show the smallest bit of worry towards their host.

Phil turned a wayward glance towards his son, looking over his uncomfortable form. Neck arched forward uncomfortably, left leg stretched out in front of him in the snow, right hand massaging his left arm.

"You okay..?" Phil's voice split the silence, and Techno's eyes unfazed as he blinked a few times shifting his gaze towards Phil.

"Yeah..." Techno's voice didn't come out as convinced as he would have liked, so he quickly added, "Just nervous about the future, I guess."

Phil raised an eyebrow, unconvinced.

"That doesn't sound like you, I'll be honest."

Techno's forced smile faltered, and he awkwardly shifted his gaze away once again. His mind raced as he tried to come up with a better cover-up. Phil just stared his icy blue eyes into the blank face of Techno, waiting for a response.

"It's just that..." Techno cleared his thought, shifting his position on the wooden step. "I'm... not going to be able to run from my consequences forever, ya know?" and even though Techno was trying to cover up the larger truth, he really meant it.

Phil's eyes softened, and he placed a hand on Techno's shoulder and was slightly surprised when he felt Techno shrink away a bit under his hand. The reaction was very slight, though Phil definitely noted how Techno's muscles tensed ever so slightly, relaxing almost immediately after.

Phil brushed it off for the time being.

"You don't need to worry about that, alright?" Phil reassured him, and Techno looked at Phil, trying to look at least somewhat convinced.

After a few tense moments, Techno's face fell, and he said, "My actions are going to catch up to me, Phil. They will. They always do. And when they do..." The warrior's voice trailed off, and his eyes became unfocused, looking somewhere in the back of his mind.

"...I don't want you to get hurt..." He finished, mumbling that last part quietly to himself.

"Awwwwwwwww, Mate," Phil said, smiling over at Techno, who refused to meet his eyes.

"You don't have to worry about me, I promise you," The Avian reassured, Techno finally meeting his eyes. He gave Phil a small smile.

Techno looked back out over the tundra, massive grey thunderheads rolling over the horizon. Even though he lied to cover up the deeper truth, he still meant what he said. He would never let anyone hurt him. And if he was... he would hunt them down, even if it meant for the rest of his life.

~.'------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------'.~

Roughed-up, calloused hands turned the tan pages of the book, tracing the foreign inscriptions on its surface. The Enderman once residing in the cottage was long-since mauled, killed in an accident by an angry mob of dogs. Techno would sometimes ask his help for reading galactic, but now Edward was dead, his help gone, his grasp of the written Galactic language still unreliable.

He was looking through old textbooks, books filled with remedies, diseases, ailments. He was looking for traces of what was happening to him, the infection slowly spreading across his skin. He had even started too- feel its effects on his mind, somehow. It was drowning out his voices- both a blessing and a curse.

They were freaking out as well, desperately yelling at their host to do something, anything, to save them. At first, he was hesitant, but then the buzzing started. A white noise, like a buzz, or a static, started to fill the player's mind. It seeped in slowly, dragging its curved fingernails across his thoughts, becoming more and more noticeable as days went by. It was drowning out his voices, he had realized. They weren't quieter because of the lifetime of bloodshed for them, they were quieter because they were dying. Drowning. Being choked out of his mind.

And as much as he hated to admit it, losing his voices, the very things that had tormented him for his entire life, scared him.

So there he was, back to the wall of his attic, books laid out and open next to him, flipping through their contents. A massive snowstorm had hit days earlier, and both Phil and Ranboo didn't care to bother him.

So started his search through his library of old and new texts, many gifts, many sized properties of his dead enemies, many found while traveling between worlds.

The one currents grasped in his hands was called 𝙹ꖎ↸-ᔑ⊣ᒷ ⍑||ʖ∷╎↸ ᔑ╎ꖎᒲᒷリℸ ̣ ᓭ ᔑリ↸ ℸ ̣ ⍑ᒷ╎∷ ᓵ⚍∷ᒷᓭ.

Its galactic title was carved deep into its leather cover, the End scripture covering its insides as well.

Techno wasn't as fluent at reading galactic as he was speaking it, the relative symbols made his head hurt.

But... The hybrid had found what he was looking for.

⨅𝙹ᒲʖ╎⎓╎ᓵᔑℸ ̣ ╎𝙹リ ᔑ╎ꖎᒲᒷリℸ ̣

-ꖎᔑ∷⊣ᒷ, 𝙹⎓⎓-ᓵ𝙹ꖎ𝙹∷ !¡ᔑℸ ̣ ᓵ⍑ᒷᓭ ∴╎ℸ ̣ ⍑ ⎓ꖎᔑᓵꖌ╎リ⊣ ᓭꖌ╎リ.

-ᓵ⍑∷𝙹リ╎ᓵ ╎ℸ ̣ ᓵ⍑╎リᒷᓭᓭ 𝙹リ !¡ᔑℸ ̣ ᓵ⍑ᒷᓭ.

-ʖ⚍⨅⨅╎リ⊣ 𝙹⎓ ℸ ̣ ⍑ᒷ ╎リリᒷ∷ ᒲ╎リ↸, ᒷ⍊ᒷリℸ ̣ ⚍ᔑꖎꖎ|| ꖎᒷᔑ↸╎リ⊣ ℸ ̣ 𝙹 ꖎ𝙹ᓭᓭ 𝙹⎓ ᔑꖎꖎ ᓵ𝙹⊣リ╎ℸ ̣ ╎⍊ᒷ ⎓⚍リᓵℸ ̣ ╎𝙹リᓭ.

-'↸ᒷᓵᔑ||╎リ⊣' ᓭꖌ╎リ.

ᓵᔑリ ʖᒷ ᓵ𝙹リℸ ̣ ᔑᓵℸ ̣ ᒷ↸ ʖ|| !¡╎⊣ꖎ╎リ ⍑||ʖ∷╎↸ᓭ ╎リ ℸ ̣ ⍑ᒷ リᒷℸ ̣ ⍑ᒷ∷, ᒲ𝙹ᓭℸ ̣ ᓵ𝙹ᒲᒲ𝙹リꖎ|| ⎓∷𝙹ᒲ ᓵ𝙹リℸ ̣ ᔑᒲ╎リᔑℸ ̣ ᒷ↸ ⨅𝙹ᒲʖ╎⎓╎ᒷ↸ !¡╎⊣ꖎ╎リ ʖꖎᔑ↸ᒷᓭ.

リ𝙹 ᓵ⚍∷ᒷ.

O-oh. oh... oh no.

Unfortunately for Technoblade, He knew enough Galactic to decipher those words.