WRATH - C!TECHNOBLADE

𝗫𝗩 - blood

Recently, and habitually, do the two clash heads like violent bulls. As if both bare blatant red flags on each forehead. A tentative disapproval.

It is almost one sided, it's Eun getting unnecessarily pissed off at obscure situations, and at this point Technoblade has had enough of the months of bickering over the most minuscule things, this time he fully challenges. This situation is almost like a veil, fallen like an exiled angel and reveals the devils worker beneath.

"Your an anarchist right?" This time Eun has jabbing for his red throne, slamming them down with a hard stare and stabbing words.

"A label." he says, stern and strict. He's heard this argument before. When those with a sword to blunt have a chest sharper, a jab at his throat instead of cutting off his hands.

"So you're supposed against tyranny?"

He simply nods. "Yes."

She tilts their heads. "But you'll threaten someone if you don't get your way."

One blink to process, another to calm himself. "Whoever gets in my way regrets it."

'You feed off of power yourself, you feed of people that are scared, or more minuscule to you." Sage says, it's supposed to hurt really. He can't bare a shield while slicing it into pieces like meat. It's hypocritical. Somewhere deep down, he must know that.

'Tu ne sais rein.' he seethes, her words digging underneath his skins, scorching his blood and the seething it ablaze. A flame orange to blue. Seizing, trailing and burned.

'Ve te faire voir'

He was already in one, she knows that. He knows that she knows because she looking at him with intent, every shade in their eyes questioning with dare, with defiance. Do something, they say. Do something.

His blood is red, then blue, because he is eminently seething. A searing fire amidst us veins, his blood, his inside, him. And his blood hasn't turned this blue is forever.

He raises his head, his head fit for a crown. 'Is that a request?'

'It's a threat.'

Timing is figurative. There is never a good time, to go anywhere. A fault and something to pick it back up again. Moreover, there is always bad timing, bad times. Say, telling someone sorrowful news while attending a party is 'bad timing' .

In this particular instance, where Technoblade is strung on a line, threading him along. Promises are meant to be broken, as said, but promises are made to be kept.

It's someday in mid-september. Well, it's night time. Technoblade lives secluded, in the glacial grass and biting icicles. A travel to the town, to the city, or whatever it calls itself these days, is an overnight job, a patient one.

It's cold outside, but Eun's aura is colder.

'Are those withers?'

Technoblade never, ever gets scared. Technoblade got scared. A tremble of his hands, an exhale and a muttered string of curses. She's like a shadow, it's daunting.

Them Technoblade thinks to her question. Withers she'd asked. Many can't identify them in person, they're myth, legend. Many gods have yet to see them.

His eyebrows are creased. 'How would you know.'

She gives a laconic smile. 'Experience.'

His coat heavy, is pulled around his shoulders, a mask fit for a devil on the tips his fingers. 'Don't try and find me.' he says. As if Eun had been prying it out of his fingers. 'I'm better left alone.'

Maybe it's true. A curse, supposedly.

'This doesn't surprise me.' Eun says, taking a step closer to him.

He takes a step back. 'Do you want me to care?' he asks. 'If you really don't like it go away. Someone else will care for you.'

He acts as if he doesn't need taking care of.

'They are using you Technoblade.' She sighs. 'They'll dispose of you like you're good for nothing.' And the next words are uttered quietly, maybe he heard, maybe he didn't. 'And your not good for nothing.'

He drags a hand over his face, gesturing it before speaking. 'I don't need you.'

'Maybe you don't need me, but I'm right.' Another inch forward, another inch back. 'They call on you when they're weak.' she says. 'Because you're strong.'

'You'll get entangled with business that you have zero concern with beside me.' He says, like he's urging her to flip the page, forget it now, forget it here.

'You have zero concern with it either, politics with a country you don't live in.' There's a finger pointed at his chest, and the voices, although none baring bodies, point at him too.

There's a silence, echoing and loud.

Technoblade sighs.

'I made a pact with Wilbur.' he utters eventually. 'He wants to blow it up, we're destroying the place.'

Was that really a shock?

'Destroy?' she questions, rhetorical and mocking. The sort of tone where you expect better, but you know more than to do that. 'Is your name?' she asks. 'Technoblade the destroyer?'

'I mean—' He must be glad he was cut off. Eun would've had his head for the crows if he'd tried to make a joke of it.

'You're better than that.' Each word like revolver to his chest, a bullet at each word, and the blood is laughing. Laughing because what expectations are those? Technoblade, A god, to live idly? Ha!

He sucks a breath in, the ice and wind all ingested. The doors still open. 'How do you know.'

'We are the same.' Words like a bond, a pact. Maybe in another world it's true, maybe in another world it's false. 'I hear your thoughts.'

He knows she does.

'I don't want you to.'

The wind howls.

'I don't have a choice.'

The door slams.

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Finally updated! This book has so much potential i fear that i ruin it. Anyways, thank you all so much for the love on this! Take care.

(I'll edit it later)