I Chose to Bow

SO ANYWAY, GREEK MYTHOLOGY!

They camped under trees when they could and stationed a watch when out in the open. Wilbur would usually have been the one to guard, but in addition to not exactly needing to eat, Ranboo didn't always seem to need sleep. Most nights he stayed up, his red and green eyes switching to purple, sitting with his hands on his knees and his tail twitching from side to side, his veil flowing gently in the night air.

Some nights, Bunnyblade would see him, surrounded in purple fragments, talking to himself, sometimes even singing. His voice was soft and rhythmic, soothing the Chorus's worried or angry mutterings, distracting them from the problem of where Techno was. Bunny would crawl over, getting as close to the Enderman as he dared, and curl up again, listening for as long as his eyes stayed open. He never understood the words Ranboo spoke.

In the morning, the party would resume their journey. Bunnyblade had taken to eating only one carrot per meals, though his stomach troubled him afterwards. He wanted to stretch them out as long as they would go, for who knew when they would find another homestead where carrots could be obtained. He knew Phil and Kristin were also worried about this, for every time the carrot bag came out, they exchanged pensive looks and quick whispers and Philza would carry him for a few hours, petting his back and ears. Wilbur told jokes and stories, trying to lighten the mood, and Ranboo would loan the rabbit child his veil for a little while. Their attention made him feel safe; he couldn't clearly remember a time when he hadn't been terrorized, so their soft hands and voices gave him comfort.

It was nighttime that Bunnyblade liked best in their journey; these were the story times, and then he would sit in Phil's lap, listening to the campfire talk. Philza and Kristin didn't have much to tell, beyond their memories of the farm, and those seemed to make Wilbur sad, but the others had many stories. Ranboo especially told wonderful ones, sometimes concerning battles fought between Technoblade and the kings he despised, sometimes about Philza and Kristin themselves. Occasionally he talked about his own adventures as a young Enderling, and these were the stories Bunnyblade could not figure out very well. They told of wars and lone survival, and Ranboo always portrayed himself well, but there was an undercurrent of something far darker and crueler that Ranboo never actually spoke of. He used light words and epic language, but even Philza seemed to understand there was more to the Enderman's stories than he was giving them.

Then there were things Bunny wished he could tell. His memories were still hazy, blurred away like things seen in a fog, but he knew basically what was here, and he wanted to tell his own stories. Bunnyblade wanted to talk about his brother, about how much he looked up to him, how long they had taken care of each other, but each memory was just out of reach enough to evade his attempts to put them into words. So instead, he turned to those stories that clung to his memory best: stories Techno had told him. These were old things, stories that had taken place centuries ago in lands no one knew about or understood but Techno. He always knew why people thought the way they had all those years in the past or what cities had been like. Any question Bunny had asked him was always answered with, "Well, y'see...." And those stories Bunnyblade could still, partially, remember. Maybe Smiles hadn't liked the taste of them.

Getting his chance to tell these stories came on a pale twilight when the group had stopped about three weeks into their travels. Bunny was tired, having walked most of the day, and he flopped gratefully on the ground between Philza and Kristin. Wilbur, who rarely seemed to even get tired on overcast days like the one they'd just finished, was already flapping off to see what he could hunt down while Ranboo plucked dry grass and teleported about to get sticks and fuel for a fire. Philza and Kristin prepared what little rations they had and waited for Wilbur to get back with something to eat.

Everyone was tired, but none of their pursuers had been seen the entire time they'd been on this journey, so hope was high. After caring for the fire, Ranboo sat straight and wrapped his hands around his knees, curling his tail around his feet, a quiet smile in his eyes. Kristin was lying on her side in the grass, watching the little flames grow into something more substantial. To her left, Bunnyblade lay on his stomach, feet in the air, enjoying the feel of Philza rubbing his head. The farmer was beside him, running his fingers through Bunnyblade's hair, a thoughtful expression on his face. Darkness was slowly falling over the sky, though the clouds overhead were preserving the sunlight as long as they could, making for a golden glow across the land that was ever so slowly fading. The waving grass tickled Kristin's nose; crickets were just beginning to chirp. It was a still evening.