Amethyst and Flowers

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Tw: drowning, yelling (not caps), death/war mention, guilt tripping/manipulation

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Slowly, so carefully, Dream holds the water bucket above the lava pool as he pours it out along its skin. The lava it touches quickly cools, heat dissipating into wisps of steam. He takes his hand around the pickaxe beside him to destroy the cobble next to newly formed obsidian. One strike with the netherite pickaxe, and the rock crumbles. The lava consumes it; water quickly washes over, creating the second bunch of obsidian he needs for the portal.

Dream takes the bucket again, and scoops up the remaining water. He raises it to pour from the awkward pillar of wood he'd built beside the pool when the bushes rustle behind him. He stills, looking in the direction of the sound. One hand reaches for the axe strapped to his pauldron. The beating of footsteps abusing the ground rattles closer and closer. His hand releases the bucket to swing out his weapon.

The blade and horse almost meet, when the stallion crashes out of the shrub and skids itself to a stop just before it connects with its neck. Dream stands his ground as the stallion trots backward, and he draws the axe closer to ward it off.

His gaze flies back to where his water bucket is, and sees a mess of obsidian growing on the surface of the pool with a scrap of iron seeping deeper into the pool's mouth. "Goddammit," he curses under his breath.

Dream swings his head back to face the horse, frustration prickling under his skin as he tosses his axe back into its sheath, "Oh my god, why! Why of all times you-" he gestures wildy to the horse, then pauses, and breathes. "Where is your rider, where did you even..." his words trail off as he wanders to see the reins on the horse. A blue emblem stands out against the hickory leather that juxtaposes the horse's white coat. The Antarctic Empire, Dream knows the symbol well. Too well.

The horse turns tail to leave, uninterested in him. Dream narrows his eyes at it. He knows this horse; he's seen it with its rider who he's met too many times. He steps closer, but the horse doesn't twist around to stomp his skull in—it doesn't recognize him without his mask.

"Where's your rider?" Dream asks hoarsely, not expecting an answer before he momentarily swings himself onto its saddle. The horse startles, then registers itself as he pulls the reins tighter. He tugs at them, guiding its direction. The horse doesn't move, wary. He sniffs impatiently. I can't leave Techno alone if there are guards scouting the area.

He clamps his legs down around the stallion's ribcage, earning a startled jerk before it quickens its pace from a trot. They canter. Left and right through trees, around logs, over rivers. He yanks the reins to steer their direction until the undergrowth is familiar.

They crash through leaves and branches with disregard until Dream recognizes a cut and leaps off the saddle to abandon the horse. He lands on dirt and sprints; shoves through the vines—they've been torn, disturbed. His feet glide across the grass towards the tower, axe drawn, breath unsteady, and he stops. He staggers.

Dream wheezes, hands on his knees as he heaves in and out. Breathe. Breathe. He croaks into his free hand and quickly wipes away the copper fluid.

"Techno!" he calls up at the second he's caught his breath, hopeful that he's still there and no palace guard had reached him yet, that their hiding place is yet to be discovered. That no one has taken away his miracle. No answer comes. A twinge of panic prods his chest.

"Technoblade!" Dream calls again, and still, no answer greets him, and he shouts over and over until his throat feels like it might begin to burn once more. He traces around the tower's roots until his hands feel cold air through the stone. He slams himself against it till the cracked bricks give way. A staircase reveals itself in the stem of the tower, and he wastes no time to fling himself up the steps.

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