WRATH - C!TECHNOBLADE

𝗫𝗩𝗜𝗜 - realisation

        And oh how dust settles on the interior of abandoned households, though this contrasted extremely heavily, it was as if posiden sent his mightiest tsunamis, so they were all held simultaneously, only a split second where relief ran through his bones, only to cascade sharply upon his mind and flood his thoughts entirely.

       Phil was—is a wise man, the Angel of Death (though strayed to the unholy at a few singular points in his life ) knew things. He knew people. He remembered pasts, he retained dead languages, he'd once witnessed a dodo bird. In the present it was as if a dim room was illuminated suddenly, and a feeling filled the pit of his stomach at the thought.

       He turned solemnly to his friend, Technoblade. He who although had lifetimes to develop, couldn't handle abandonment, feeling were deemed to be suddenly emptied unfairly, in where wishing and begging, where an explanation could be fed to— Technoblade didn't care to fathom it either. Where Phil would have to spill the truth— a theory that wouldn't help his deteriorating mental state. But he'd rather he spilled the poisonous words, even if it killed the receiver.

       "Technoblade."

       He didn't yearn to speak to anyone at that split moment in time. He didn't yearn for the man who'd effectuated the exact same to console him. So when the intense inquisitive words rang in his ears, he spat back a venomous reply, only one beat after impaling him with daggers for a look.

       "What?"

He continued on like he was walking on eggshells, not as if he feared the action, more like he would rather prevent the aftermath.

       "Did they—did Eun ever tell you about their village?"

      He thought back to a conversation the two had. That was obviously before she'd left her possessions on his wooden table. As if a linger of her, mentally torturing him, a reminder that she'd be stuck in his mind the roots of his hair. He answered rather impatiently.

       "She did." Stating as blunt as a butter knife.

       "Did she tell you the name?" He further asked.

Technoblade could feel his whole body increasing to the degree of boiling water, even if his mind was currently clouded, even a sane mind would see absolutely no need in his series of questioning.

       "No."

Phil gulped. For the first time ever Technoblade seen Phil's calm demeanour fall, well it was honestly just his acting, but it fell, not drastically.

       "I think you ought to know the name Techno." It was foreboding, his voice, almost like Technoblade should be scared.

       Phil stood, each blink as blank as the walls. That was before he'd swiftly turned, smoothly scanning his eyes over parchment and book covers on the bookshelves, walking the length of them before his feet abruptly stopping and drawing out a rather thin book, a specific book, specific parchment. He eyes pointedly looked Technoblade before handing over the wrapped paper.

'Here.' Phil said.

His fingertips rip the parchment out of the helping hand, the parchment wrote 'Tsumago-juku', a photo of a village which he'd assumed was the named. It looked familiar to Technoblade, it really did, but he'd traveled the world he did, so it was more a surprise that something was unrecognisable.

He looked, and it made no sense, irritated he asked;
"What about it Phil?

Phill sighed deeply.
"You've been there.

He studied it more purposeful, meeting Phil's as he flickered his sight from the parchment to Phil. Perhaps he did know it personally. It must've been some time since he last visited.

He handed the parchment back to Phil.
'I have.' he affirmed. 'What about it?'

'Why were you there?'

'I don't remember Phil.' He retorted sarcastically, it wasn't exactly sarcasm, more like a cover up for sprouting anger.

"Maybe you don't remember, but I do." Phil stated. "You went here after I left."

       Knowing he'd left him for the voices to devour him whole was one thing but him admitting it and the words flicking off his tongue simply was one thing. Deciding between seeping anger at his actions or sense of relief in admittance. He settled on underlying tone.

"I don't remember what happened after you left." he seethed, meeting his eyes.

"You do Technoblade.' he urged calmly. 'You went on a killing spree."

"So what?" Technoblade spat "That's in the past."

"It's also In Eun's past."

His words tripped him up. His heart now a frenzy.

"Yeah. . .' he said unsure. 'were alike."

"No.' Phil snapped hastily, shaking the parchment in his hands, the faint sound of it wavering. 'your not getting it. You terrorised her village."

A silence like no other, devoid of syllables, in where sound has no capacity, only to where ears washed over the sound, to where it fell on deaf ears.

"She would tell me." Technoblade said, but his trust was detriment.

"Maybe she didn't.

"Are you saying I killed her family?

"It's likely."

He'd looked back to when his mind was lead astray, in where his physical body was too weak to resist. In where his frail weary arms invited nutrition—in the form of blood. To where he terrorised and his usual aim was no survivors.

It's very likely.