absence | bench trio (lore)

eight

Yes, they'd all run for the hills. They would run and scream and cry and beg, some would collapse to their knees and start praying, cling to his ankles and just shriek. But he always let them finish their prayers- it was the only time he felt sympathy. He didn't know why it was this way, and he most likely never would.

It was the ones that praised him that he never had even a sliver of mercy for. The ones who gathered around fires in their villages at night, joining hands and chanting 'Technoblade never dies!'. It was those whom made him the hungriest for blood. He supposed they thought it would help them, worshipping him as if he valued his own reputation more than their dead bodies at his feet. But they were wrong, per usual. But Technoblade did know why he hated those ones- more specifically, the chant 'Technoblade never dies' that echoed off of the mountain ranges- more than he did the others.

Because he hoped the chant wasn't true.

The piglin hybrid thought about this as he sat under a tree near his home, snow gently falling from the midnight sky onto his hands as he sharpened a dagger. He didn't know what he was doing or why he was out here- but he was rather bored, and wasn't feeling that thirst for death at the moment. He almost chuckled at himself- why was he so murderous? He never felt any satisfaction after wiping out an entire village, killing families ruthlessly; it was similar to having a drink to calm your nerves- the problems don't go away, you just forget about them for a little while.

He sighed as he continued to drag the rock along the dagger, gripping the leather handle. Suddenly, the dagger slipped and sliced his palm. He flinched as blood oozed out of the cut, but stared at it almost as if he was bored by the lack of pain it caused him. He examined it, then heard footsteps in the snow. He looked up at the fog, settled peacefully in the pine trees. Three figures, walking towards him.

"Heh?" he muttered under his breath, standing up. "Who's there?" Techno asked, sounding completely unbothered by their presence. No response, but they were getting closer, and the figures were slowly becoming identifiable. He squinted into the dark abyss...

Then started to chuckle.

"It's a pleasure to see you all again, it really is." Technoblade said, placing a hand on his hip. "I'm rather shocked- impressed, even, to see you here. And all together? Let's just say it was definitely unexpected." He spun his dagger around in his opposite hand. Before him, stood Dream, Wilbur, and Quackity. Dream had longer, tousled hair and his mask had a large crack stretching diagonally along it. Wilbur didn't look much different- in fact, he looked the exact same as he did the day he had died. Quackity sported the scar Techno had given him, and he wore an untucked white dress shirt. He looked around at all of his coworkers- dare he say acquaintances.

He held a hand out to Wilbur. "Wilbur Soot. I don't know how you're here, but then again you do a lot of confusing sh-t, so I'm just not gonna ask." Wilbur nodded, smiling, and shook his hand with enthusiasm.

"Here." He tossed Techno a roll of bandage- "You might need that, you kinda got some blood on my hand." Techno gave him an appreciative nod and quickly wrapped his palm with ease, biting the bandage and tying it off.

"Dream," he said, holding his hand out. "So I see you've made it out of that hellhole?" Dream hesitated, but took his hand and shook it, nodding. The two men had a complicated relationship- they had worked together, but only decided that they were friends in certain instances where it would benefit them. Techno turned to Quackity, smiling with fake warmth.

"Hello, Quackity. It's a pleasure to see you again." Techno held his hand out. There was a tense moment of silence, and Quackity looked at his hand as though wondering if he were serious. He let out an airy laugh.