this world we have built is burning down around us | Dream SMP Time Travel Fic

it goes around and comes around

Before

"Huh?" The piglin hybrid wrinkled his nose as Carl whinnied next to him. He patted the horse on its flank with a brief, "Be good," before he entered his house.

The stench was strong, sour and ridden with infection. He scowled and followed the scent to his basement, where he found some stone in his floor just out of place. When he tapped his foot on it, he could hear the hollow hum beneath.

Groaning, he pulled out his pickaxe and dug into the floor, unsurprised by the hole but a little startled by the ladder. He'd been expecting an infestation, a raccoon perhaps, that had made its home under his house and decided to track about when he was gone. His items had been going missing, he knew, and now he was all too aware that it had not been Phil taking potions and golden apples but a thief.

The voices in his head called for blood, egging him on, but Techno just felt tired. After having almost been executed, he'd just wanted to sleep (and plan Phil's escape, but he needed a clearer mind for that). As it was, if there was a thief, which was becoming more and more obvious, then Techno would need to deal with it, and he'd need to make sure they didn't return.

Bloody and aching, he somewhat hoped that the thief had managed to curl up and die on their own from the wound he knew they had.

He climbed down the ladder, not persistent on being quiet but still effortlessly so, and moved down the small hall to be met with a messy room. He noticed a tunnel on the other side with a door further down first, but his gaze was dragged to the rest of the hole. It was damp and wet, and the smell of dirt, blood, and infection was disgustingly strong. Some parts of the room were frozen, likely from the cold outside, and the walls were scattered with an ugly yellow color. A chest, bed, and a familiar log caught Techno's attention.

He moved towards it, frowning as he poked it, the bell hanging from the wood dinging softly. "Tommy's prime log...?"

Suddenly, there was a gasp, and Techno whirled around to see a familiar face peeking out from under the ratty blankets of the bed. For a moment, the hybrid was surprised he'd missed the sight of the lump, but another blink and it was obvious why. Tommy was small, smaller than he'd ever been, and for the lanky teenager Techno could recall, such an observation sickened him.

He was pale, white like paper and unhealthily pasty barring the fresh burn scar that seemed to have been gained from an explosion by its pattern, stretching across his right cheek and trailing down the side of his neck. He was trembling, Techno noticed, and he thought perhaps it might be from the cold, the boy was so thin. His wrists looked to be the width of a blaze rod, and his cheeks were gaunt to the point that the skin was sinking in. His eyes were dead, the only life being a spark that Techno could not name, and his hair was a matted, greasy mess.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Techno didn't mean for it to come out as harsh as it did, but his casual monotone and surprise did little for him in terms of social interaction.

Tommy stared at him with big eyes, the blanket still draped over most of him, and suddenly the stench of rot rolled over him as the boy shifted. The piglin hybrid's pupils dilated, and the blond froze in place. "Tommy," he uttered, "why does it smell like death down here?"

The blond blinked, opened and closed his mouth, before inhaling sharply and bolting up. He was out of the exit tunnel Techno had noticed firsthand before the warrior could blink, and with a startled grunt, he pursued the boy.

He met Tommy out in the snow, the flakes falling rather heavily as a strong wind whipped through the air, biting at Techno's fingers. The blond had collapsed in the snow, scrambling to escape and sobbing as he did so. The pink-haired man blanched at the sight of the blood trailing behind Tommy's body as he dragged himself through the cold white beneath their feet.