Things That Need To Pass (passerine!Technoblade x OC) {COMPLETED}

Bloody Hell

(3rd person POV)

"Or maybe he just got tired of tossing shit into the flames." Eryn said sarcastically.

Techno let out a breathy laugh. "Guess we'll never know." He pushed himself off the rock and began heading towards their grazing horses. "If you keep stalling with dumb questions, we'll reach the border by the time you're dust and bones, and I really don't want to be bargaining for two dead people. One's already a hassle."

Wilbur threw the canteen at his head, but Techno caught it out of the air effortlessly without looking back.

"Show-off," Wilbur grumbled, but he was smiling for the first time in what felt like centuries.

This won't last, the voices reminded him as he followed Techno back to their mounts. This stage is set for a tragedy, prince. This hungry audience will accept nothing else.

Screw you and your stage, Wilbur thought, catching Techno's eye as the general hauled himself up onto his horse. Once upon a time, Wilbur would have cowered at the echoing threats inside his head. But now he stared right back at the monster, and he refused to be the first to flinch.

And they rode on.

They slept under the stars.

Or, more accurately, Wilbur slept—fitfully, tossing and turning with nightmares. It would be naïve to think he could find peace anywhere, even in the oblivion of sleep. If it had been his call, he would have ridden through the night without pause, but Techno had vehemently vetoed the idea. 

Wilbur had tried to argue, but Techno was quick to shut him down with, "You are useless to me sleep-deprived."

Over the years, Techno had come to learn that the only way to get a man like Wilbur to concede was to cut deep and cut fast. By the way Wilbur's jaw tightened, Techno knew he'd hit his mark. He would apologize, but if he were to be honest, he'd do almost anything to get Wilbur to rest. 

Despite the divinity in his veins, even Techno felt like he was fraying at the edges. He couldn't even begin to imagine what the past weeks had done to a mortal like Wilbur.

Wilbur had begrudgingly slid down from his horse and laid himself on the cold ground of the tundra with a pile of blankets.

"I'll keep first watch," Techno said, knowing he wouldn't wake Wilbur until dawn.

Wilbur nodded, knowing the same. And by the time Techno heard the telltale signs of a winged god's descent, Wilbur was asleep.

Techno spared Philza a glance as he settled himself against a pile of their supplies. His blonde hair was wind-tossed and his clothes ruffled, but for a man who'd spent the day closer to the sun than the highest-soaring birds could even fathom, there was relatively nothing out of place. 

Except his eyes. Techno had never seen a god more weary—but, then again, he hadn't looked at a mirror in a while.

"Already thinking about leaving again?" Techno mused.

Philza tore his gaze away from Wilbur's sleeping form. "No," was his simple reply.

Techno stared at the man before him, wishing he could believe him. Philza sighed as he sat down on the grass, crossing his legs under himself. For a while, there was only the howling of the winds to fill the silence and the distant squawk of a bird on the hunt.

And then Philza said, "What was he like?"

Techno looked up from where he'd been idly pulling at the grass beside him, but Philza was looking at Wilbur again, his expression unreadable in the dim moonlight. Wilbur's face was a pale thing, and under that pile of blankets, it was as if he wasn't even breathing. Techno looked quickly away.

"What do you mean?" Techno prompted when Philza seemed content to just stare at his son until morning.

Blinking slowly, Philza amended, "Tommy—what was Tommy like when he was growing up?"

Techno's nails dug into the dirt. Neither Techno nor Wilbur had spoken Tommy's name. Philza hadn't spoken at all—mostly because he was determined to keep as much distance as possible between him and Wilbur, but for whose benefit, Techno didn't know. 

But now the name sat between them, as heavy as a curse, as hopeful as a prayer.

Techno turned Philza's question over, treading the line between the truth and what he wanted to say. There was not much overlap. His sons' childhood was a luxury Philza had squandered away the moment he wrote that pathetic excuse of a goodbye letter, and it would take more than a few weepy conversations during a storm to crawl back into Wilbur and Techno's good graces.

Eventually, Techno shrugged. "Tommy was Tommy."

Philza nodded as if he understood enough. But how could he? He'd left when Tommy was six and returned just in time to watch Tommy die. Tommy had lived a life—however short—between those two points. Philza didn't know petty, petulant, passionate Tommy. 

Brave, bold, belligerent Tommy. He hadn't been there to watch Tommy grow up, hadn't been there to teach Tommy how. That was all Wilbur. And Techno.

"He was..." Techno pulled a fistful of grass from the earth and tossed it lazily into the air. The wind picked up and blew it all north. Techno thought his words over until the grass leaves disappeared into the night. "He was loved. That's the only thing you need to know."

Philza tipped his head up to the stars and Techno turned away before the first of the tears could fall.

"Thank you, Techno." Eryn said softly.

And they rode on.

And on a still and silent night, a different night, over the sounds of hooves rhythmically striking the earth, a king turned to a god and asked, "What do you think death is like?"

"Why do you ask?"

a/n

*SIGH* GOT NO INSPO

HELP

anyways.

have a nice day, afternoon or night wherever you are!

byeeeeeeeeeeee mah bootyful muffinss!!!