Hidden Thoughts and Unspoken Truths - Dream SMP

Finding my Acatalepsy

Summary: Technoblade and Philza, the Blood God and the Angel of Death return from a war of victory to the simplicities of Philza's home and his waiting family. A series of stories, interconnected with the words of loss, victory and peace.

Content Warnings: mentions of war, mention of violence

Fields and mountains surrounded Technoblade as he walked. Each step taking his energy, all that was left of him. The Blood God, known for his blood red eyes and vicious axe was spent. Muddy boots worn out from the recent battle trudged beside a second pair of equally ruined boots.

Beside the Blood God, was the Angel of Death. But to Technoblade, he'd always be Phil.

"Where exactly are we headed again?" Techno asked, wincing as he put too much pressure on his left leg. That injury would most likely stay with him, Phil could only do so much to a fatal injury like it.

Philza pointed to the far-off distance of wherever he was leading the two warriors, "My home."

Techno had a hard time processing the simplicity of the sentence. The voices in his head, the ones that led armies into battle, were silent, Techno was amused at the thought that they might be just as surprised. Phil had told him that much of course, Techno trusted his old friend more than he ever dared to admit, but even Phil couldn't lead him into unknown territory without giving some sort of explanation. "You sure we're going the right way, Old Man?" He asked, squinting from behind his mask. Phil only nodded, smiling a smile Techno hadn't seen in a long time beneath the grime on the man's face. Phil's white wings, were drawn close to his body, weak from battle. He wasn't quite sure how his friend could smile given the current predicament they were in. "What if your family doesn't like me?" He wasn't sure what prompted the question, but Techno was always more talkative when he was tired.

Phil dismissed the question with a click of his tongue, a habit Techno had come to recognize as a sign of dismissal. "They'll like you Tech, they would be foolish not to." But the seemingly comforting words did nothing to soothe Techno's worry.

"But what if-"

"They'll like you."

"You don't know that."

Philza huffed, stopping and resting his weight against a cane he'd handmade. It was a long wooden rod, plain and nothing special, but Techno was aware of the markings, the writing, the carving that he'd put beneath the black paint. Phil's handwriting had certainly improved since the beginning of their journey, hours of writing letters he'd never sent. Save for Techno's name at the very top of the cane, nothing else was visible. Techno wasn't completely sure why Phil had covered what he'd put, but he didn't pry. As close as the two were, Techno knew he wouldn't get Phil's whole life story until he was ready, and the same went for himself.

Apparently Techno had not been listening as his friend spoke, because three impatient clicks broke his train of thought.

"Were you even listening mate?"

Techno knew there was no heat behind Phil's words, but he gave him a sheepish look. "Sorry, what were you saying?" Another click, impatient old man.

"My family is unlike the people you've met. I can promise you that they will like you. If they do not, then I will convince them otherwise, because I am not staying in a house where you are not lived and cared for."

Techno stared at the man before him. This man cared for his family, he could tell. He spoke of them either with pride or with a shine in his eyes that Techno had only seen on one occasion. Not the fondest memory for the Blood God, one where he was too close to death. The voices started acting up, the silence replaced by an uproar of noise in his head. Techno gave an involuntary shudder at the memory and Phil's hand was on his friend's shoulder instantly.