God of Blood, God of Death

Bravery

Despite his preparations and reconciliations, he was in fact horribly unprepared. He clung to false confidence as he pushed open the large doors to the structure. A groan rang through the structure as they budged, allowing him entrance.

Looking around, the place was immaculate. Not a cobweb or spec of dust in sight. The hallway went in two directions, to his left, there were the stairs up to a tower (or at least the second floor) and a bay window for someone to rest in. The right led further inside, turning left a few feet away.

He turned, walking down the right hall, his hooves clicking against the stone floor. There was no sense in being stealthy at the moment, so he focused on not getting lost. Jabber plodded away next to him, alert to the sounds of the structure.

He did notice, however, that when the doors groaned open, the giggling stopped. He hadn't heard it since he entered the structure. It made sense, an intruder into your home would be cause for concern. Especially if this was indeed Philza's home.

As he rounds the corner, he notices that in the middle of the hallway, there's another set of doors. Making his way over, he pushes them open, these ones groan as well, but that was to be expected. Their intended weight was lost on Technoblade, if he truly wanted he could move mountains.

Stepping out into the new area, he discovered it was a well cared for courtyard. Birch trees grew in natural patterns, with flowers and grass overtaking what was probably once a neatly trimmed garden. He scanned around the courtyard, looking for signs of the voices he'd heard when he notices a small plush salmon.

Carefully, he crouches down, picking up the toy. It's worn, a sign of being well-loved, with one of the glass eyes missing, replaced with a stitched 'x'. Turning it over, on the underbelly close to the tail, he finds words stitched into the fabric. Sally, Wilbur Soot.

So this was Philza's home.

Technoblade crouches there, pondering over the stuffed animal, his cape fanned out behind him, his long hair missing its braid, and his crown carefully placed on his head. Jabber buts her head against his hand, asking for pets. He reaches out, scratching her soft fur when he realizes, that this was not Jabber.

Instead, next to him sits a grey wolf, leaning into his touch. His eyebrows furrowed together before realization dawned on him.

"You must be Em," he whispers, scratching behind the wolf's ear. He barks at him in response.

Jabber comes up, tilting her head at him curiously. He looks at her, a growl forming in his throat. She rolls over, displaying her underbelly to him, and he quiets down. The two dogs run off after each other through the courtyard. Technoblade remains crouched, watching them play when he hears a voice behind him.

"... Technoblade?" it's the familiar, gentle tone of Philza, carrying his name like a question. He smiles and stands up, turning to face him.

Philza stands at the entrance to the courtyard, his head titled slightly to the side as he meets Technoblade's gaze.

"Sorry for dropping in like this, Philza," he chuckles, speaking as if they were old friends.

"What are you doing here?" Philza questions him, reaching down to his belt where a netherite sword rested.

"Trust me, I'm not here to hurt you. I - I spoke with Frosuls," he explains, putting up his hands to show he meant no harm.

Philza drops his hand from the hilt of his sword.

"How much do you... know?"

"Not much. Just that you spent almost a year with him. He made me promise to not to harm you."