barbarism (dreamnoblade)

chapter thirty

|||Wilbur POV|||

Who is the real tool in all this?

He asks himself this every night, every morning, as he talks to his family and talks to more members of the cult.

Technoblade might be a tool to his own mind, losing control when it required a weapon to harvest blood. But Wilbur didn't realise how little control he had over his own life until now. Until he sits watching a sleeping Technoblade with tired eyes. Until everything.

Technoblade has a way of silencing the Blood God- the user, when he drinks hybrid blood he gains control over his own actions, in other words he's no longer a weapon.

But Wilbur didn't know how to fix himself.

Somewhere in his mind emotions leak out a hole he can't patch up, the gradual dim of colours in his life leave him in a cold, empty gray. A dark dullness drapes over his mind like a blanket and leaves his head fuzzy, what was today? How long had he been in exile? Why was the world so colourless?

Wilbur was sure he was stuck like this, he had been so fixated on L'manberg- his L'manberg. Who could blame him? No one could blame him, it was the only thing he could feel proud about, the only thing he didn't end up screwing up.

It was his L'manberg, his L'manberg. Nothing else in his life mattered anymore, his family didn't matter? Did they? Why was he doubting himself now? Wilbur wasn't sure it was even a proper family, to begin with. It all feels cold now.

He had no control, so was he more of a tool than Technoblade? Maybe he was doomed to chase his own despicable goal for the hope of recovering unrecoverable things.

In all honesty, his lack of care for that answer scared him more than the answer itself.

Wilbur was sick of this, he just wanted to finish his symphony so he could finally rest. He had never been able to hold onto something quite like L'manberg, he remembers the days after the incident. He remembers waiting and watching and hoping and- and nothing happened. Nothing got better- his family spiraled down a dark inescapable pit.

He watched his father get more and more guilt-ridden, he watched as Tommy closed himself off from them. Wilbur watched as Technoblade got more unstable. At the time it was devastating, watching it all crumble in his palms, but now he looks back with a mind of apathy.

He could care less. Life was a screwed-up song everyone was forced to sing, don't know the lyrics and you get cast out to rot. Wilbur tried his best to sing his song when he left with Tommy, he had hoped getting out of that environment would help them.

He tried his best when he made L'manberg.

He failed.

But that wasn't a problem! No, it wasn't. Because even crappy songs get listened to after death, get talked about. And this ending was going to be wondrous, it was going to be a blast. That was what he was after all.

If he cut Technoblade's supply of blood he would become a tool again, then Wilbur could make sure it ended permanently. Then he could blow up L'manberg, then he could get Technoblade to kill his family. Then it would be over.

Wilbur giggles to himself, feeling sudden lightheadedness. It wasn't over yet, no it wasn't. He couldn't fail this time. He couldn't screw this up. It wouldn't be his fault it isn't his fault- it wasn't his fault-

|||Technoblade POV|||

When Technoblade wakes up he feels as though he is still dreaming. His legs and arms are numb, he can't seem to be able to move them. His eyes dart from each wall of the room until they land on a figure sitting in the corner.

He immediately recognises it as Wilbur, he looks as his brother sits with his face buried in his hands... just talking. It was quiet murmuring he couldn't make out, but it causes tingles to trail up his spine, like ice was being dragged down his spine.

"Wilbur...?"

His brother's face shoots up and his wide eyes lock in with Technoblade's. An uneasiness settles down between the two as Wilbur's eyes stay locked open, not blinking or revealing any emotion.

"Wilbur are you okay?" Technoblade feels a warm sensation in his arm, finding that he was able to move it.

Wilbur looks away, eyes distinct with a heavy frown, "I'm glad to see you're awake, I was expecting you to rest for longer if I'm being frank."

Was Wilbur worried for him? Why was he acting like this?

"Answer my question Wilbur- I-I mean-" Technoblade feels his heart stop as he realises his mistake, he shouldn't be ordering Wilbur around.

Wilbur's eyes narrow and he turns to glare at Technoblade, the sudden hostility makes him freeze up.

"I'm fine. I just wanted to make sure you were fine." Wilbur stands up and his gaze glides over Technoblade's neck, "does your neck still hurt?"

"I- no it's fine now, I can barely feel it."

Wilbur hums, walking closer to Technoblade and getting onto his knees, a hand strokes Technoblade's hair, fingers curling into his hair.

He gets an immediate sense of dread, body tensing up and his heart picks up, blood roars in his ears. Was he going to be punished? Was he too bold?

"Techie... where did you get that blood?"

He felt like having a panic attack, his fingers tingling and his eyes glistening. He feels his veins move, they become cold, washing over him. He's drowning.

What does he say? He can't say Schlatt to Wilbur of all people.

"I... I- uh..." He feels like he was seconds away from fainting, the lightheadedness heavy in his limbs, "I met a hybrid in town and brought some off them..."

Wilbur is silent, looking away at the walls. Technoblade's breath remains lodged in his throat as he prays Wilbur believes him.

"Technoblade, do you remember when we were young and I had to take care of Philza?"

Technoblade stutters and looks up at him, dread and fear washing over him. "Y-yeah, why?"

Wilbur pulls him into a light hug, ruffling his hair before standing up and walking to the door, "you're acting like he was, so many excuses and so many fibs. You don't trust me anymore, do you?"

"I-I trust you! I'm telling the truth Wilbur!" Guilt was all he felt, he knows what Wilbur was talking about. When Philza covered up for him, when he lied for him. "I don't want to be specific because you could be at risk if you met them, they're- uh- dangerous."

Wilbur hums to himself, hand pausing on the door handle, his hair falls in front of his face, blocking his expression from Technoblade, "Techie... I..."

"Wilbur? What's wrong?" He shuffles up and leans against the wall, hand going to rub against his neck as his eyes stay locked on Wilbur. He was nervy about the way Wilbur was acting, it was as if his personality switched. That never meant good news for him.

"Techie, do you feel guilty for what you do?"

Technoblade pauses, was Wilbur talking about what he did to Philza? Or Tubbo? Or did he mean the others he ended up murdering when he loses control, "I do, I feel guilty every day, sometimes it gets overwhelming."

"How do you deal with guilt then?"

"I... honestly I don't deal with it well. Why are you asking this? Is something bothering you?"

Wilbur sighs and his free hand tightens into a fist. "I don't know anymore, but regardless I have to push forward, right?"

Technoblade was confused why Wilbur was confiding this in him, or why he was seeking validation. What was he going to do? Technoblade shudders and remembers what Schlatt said, what he implied. The question was on the tip of his tongue, 'did you send that girl after me?' but it stays glued inside.

Why was he so scared of someone he cared for so much? Technoblade wants to bash the thoughts from his head, he wants to forget, or go back in time.

"Y-yeah. Life is about pushing forward."

Wilbur scoffs and leaves, the door left wide open.