A Faithful Memory

I don't have any friends

Bones take forever to heal. Technoblade knew this. But waiting for Philza's wings to fix themselves seemed to take an inordinately long time.

At first, Techno spent the days gathering resources and hunting what game he could find. Winter was coming and he did not want to be unprepared. As their stockpile grew, he moved his attention to their shelter. It was not enough that they had a shoddy roof over their heads, not with the weather beginning to worsen. So he chopped down trees, split them into logs and stripped them of any unnecessary branches and leaves. It took longer than he would've liked, especially since he worked alone.

Philza had been somewhat troublesome on this point. He wanted to help, but his injuries made it impossible. Yet he still managed to drag himself to wherever Techno was working and try to talk to him. It didn't even seem to matter what about.

"You know," the hybrid said, leaning on his axe as he watched Phil struggle towards him, "you'll only slow your healin' down with all that movement. Lots of back muscles you're usin' there. Why won't you just stay inside?"

Phil raised his head, panting. "I can't...just sit here...while you...do all the work."

Techno smirked. "Looks like you're doin' that anyway." He swung the axe back, up, over and down onto the branch in front of him, splitting the wood a little deeper.

Phil watched him with a wry and somewhat guilty expression. "At least this way you're not all on your own."

You never are.
Hah, Technolone.
Lonelyblade.
You're never alone.

Technoblade grunted as he swung his axe again. "I don't need your pity. Didn't you listen the first time?" The axe bit deep into the wood this time, slicing it neatly in half. Techno felt a jump of pride as he picked up the pieces and felt how smooth the cuts were. He stalked over to the pile he had made and set them down. "I don't need help," he said, dusting his hands off, "especially from someone in your condition."

For a while, Philza remained silent, watching Techno split more logs into manageable pieces. As he worked, the hybrid went over the ideas he had for the shelter he was planning to build. It would have to be good to outlast the winter in this region; he'd heard of snows that could pile up half as high as a house, and he wasn't making something that big.

Philza is sad.

"So? It's not my job to keep him happy, just alive." Techno twirled the axe in his hand as he prepared for a new strike.

But he's sad.

"Since when do you care?" Whack! Techno put the axe down and began gathering the split wood from the ground. "I thought you just wanted blood."

Maybe later.
But he's sad.
Techno, he just wants to talk.
We haven't heard anyone in so long.
He's not afraid.
We can always kill him later.

"Psychos." Techno muttered. "I'm not killin' him, how many times do I have to tell you that?"

"Who wants me dead?"

Phil's voice jarred Techno back into reality, and he looked up to see the avian resting on his elbows, staring at Technoblade with a curiosity that did not match the seriousness of his question. Techno shook his head. "Nothin' you need to worry about." He said, his voice studiously even as usual.

While he wasn't that concerned about Phil learning of his Voices, Techno wasn't in a hurry to tell him about them either. The man was under enough stress as it was.

And you wonder why we care.
Technosoft.
Softnoblade.
Technoweak.

He gritted his teeth and turned away, bringing his axe down with unusual force on the log.