The Childrens Rebellion

The Language of Flowers

The sun had touched the horizon by the time they exited the building. The streets were all but empty—everyone had presumably gone back to their homes; whatever homes they had on a godforsaken planet built on the bones and blood of children.

Techno met them outside. His hair was slightly out of place—by nothing more than an inch, but it was an inch too far and an inch out of character. "Our taxi comes in fifteen minutes," he said.

"Thanks," Purpled said warily. "The hovertrain takes like—five. So. I'm going to go watch the sunset." He all but strode off down the road towards the horizon, where a large star set and cast scarlet streaks of light across a pink-clouded sky. Ranboo followed him hesitantly.

Tommy paused near Techno when the half-Piglin shifted slightly. "Yes?" he asked.

"I didn't say anythin'," Techno said.

"You want to."

Techno stared at him, and Tommy stared back.

"I don't—" Techno started. "You—uh."

"I've never seen you at a loss for words," he teased.

"You did real good, Tommy," Techno said eventually. "Real good."

"You saw it?" he asked, not surprised in the slightest.

"Yeah," Techno said. "On my datapad. And, uh—if you were wonderin'—the crew saw it too. Tubbo found it first, actually, and then everyone watched." Tommy clenched his fists slightly. "I think. I think—that firsthand tellin's are far different than videos. Especially videos without audio."

"You don't say," he muttered.

"It's a bit more hauntin' when you have teenagers sittin' on a couch talkin' about what happened two—nearly three—years ago." Techno coughed. "Then you start to realize they were really children, 'n they weren't the youngest either."

"Thank you, Technoblade," Tommy said snappishly—and then sighed. "Sorry. I don't know quite why I did that."

"Ain't it obvious?" Techno asked him. "Nervousness, for one. I mean, you basically just broadcasted yourself to at least ten thousand people. People are gonna know who you are now. I mean, not that they didn't already, but, like, now you're really famous."

"Let's just hope that Chroma doesn't fucking hunt me down," he muttered.

Techno tilted his head. "He'll have to get through me first," the half-Piglin said gruffly. "And the entire crew of the L'manburg. And the Galactic Rebellion."

"But what if—"

"What if nothing," Techno said. "Stop thinking about what-if situations. Most of them are unrealistic and stupid." Tommy scowled angrily. "Look, kid. If Chroma's still alive in some worthless corner of the universe, I hope he sees the rage on your face and stays away."

"Rage?" Tommy questioned.

"Yeah, when you said he was still alive—that's gonna be a lot of paperwork, by the way, because that's not public knowledge—you had this murderous look about you. And I love murderous looks myself, so Chroma better be fuckin' scared out of his mind. He'll have to team up with the Arachnids again—"

"No," Tommy said. "I don't—no. No." He let out a breath. "They're not. Um. No. They're not on the same side, I don't think. Pogtopia—the guards. They weren't Arachnids. Some scummy Humans and Felines and Merlings and Blazeborn and—and the like, I should think. But Arachnids? No."

Techno paused. "We've always assumed that they were the other side," he said carefully. "Even after what Purpled said. Are you meanin' to tell me they're a third party instead?"