DSMP AU Oneshots (angst and comfort)

Goddess of Death -- Part 1 (Medieval SBI + others)

I was scrolling through Pinterest and saw a witch's hut and my brain began putting together a story for Phil and Kristen :] I feel like it's either been a while since I've put them together in one of my story's or just haven't yet (unless she's like dead lol) which feels criminal, so here it is!

*Also this takes place in ye olden times so something different to just the DSMP server stuff I usually do*

TW:// casual mentions of fighting/murdering beasts/mobs, casual mention of being homeless/orphans (not sure if trigger but ya), also about birth (?), mention of drinking and neglect, allusion to blood (weird bunch of warnings lol ik)

Third-Person POV: Philza's perspective

Word Count: 2456

The sun had begun to rise from its slumber, coaxed out by the sweet melody of Philza's gentle humming. His tune, mixed with the newfound light, swirled around the empty space within his small stone house as he prepared himself for the long, perilous journey ahead.

Out in the woods is where he had decided to settle a few years ago - far from civilization - after his ruthless yet softhearted best friend, Technoblade, had gone off to fight for a neighbouring kingdom. The two had departed on good terms after decades in the other's company scouring the lands for violent beasts to slay and bathing in the riches granted to them for their hard work. However, it had been decided by the friends to take separate paths instead of butting heads over what their next adventure would look like - all the while respecting how the universe would bring them back together whenever the time was right.

It hadn't properly hit the man all in the one go, but little by little Phil was beginning to let the isolation get the best of him. He had even become desperate enough to pop into a number of towns and villages every so often just to feel like he wasn't the last person alive.

The humming quickly turned into light grunts as Phil attempted to squash in the last of the equipment into his satchel - ready for a brand-new expedition. Word had reached him from a small town, about half a day's journey away from home, about a witch plaguing the outer area of the marshlands. A handsome reward had been tacked onto the vague tales and snippets of information, causing the adventurer to become curious enough to check it out for himself. Maybe the additional money would allow him to live a little more comfortably for the next few months as winter was set to roll his way. The cold season was never promising when it came to the production of crops anyway, and his previous nest-egg had begun to dwindle as of late.

Buckling his well-worn black boots and slinging his bulging satchel over his shoulder, Phil ruffled his large black wings with a content sigh. The hybrid tugged a little at his black, silk robe to ensure it sat straight before grabbing his green-and-white striped bucket hat and walking towards his front door. Pausing briefly to drink in the lingering silence of the house, he drew in a deep breath, gave it a friendly salute goodbye, then locked the heavy, spruce door behind him.

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Leaves crunched rapidly beneath his feet as he ran along the length of his front yard, picking up speed before opening his wings and taking off into the pale blue sky. The initial dizziness of switching between the ground to the weightless clouds always brought him a unique sense of joy. He clutched the brimmed hat tight to avoid losing it - a slight string of giggles and chuckles rushed from his mouth as a pleasant smile painted his face.

According to multiple sources, this infamous witch lived about a full day's journey from his house, meaning this would be one of those times he stopped into his favourite village, known as L'manburg, along the way to rest and begin again the following morning.