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It wasn’t unusual for Phil to not know what’s going on among the people living in the community. Everyone had their projects and shenanigans that kept them busy, separated. Yet they always found their way back to the Pub. Always came to him for help. Phil wouldn’t say he was a leader, the title didn’t fit so much as time went on.
If anything, he was more of a maid than anything. Cleaning up after the others as they go. He never minds it, he fell into this position willingly. Phil wouldn’t have it any other way. So when Tommy came scrambling, his feathers puffed and his eyes wide, Phil knew this was his problem to solve.
The problem in question was the new resident to Origin. A man that goes by the name Technoblade. Phil likes to think they were a very welcoming bunch. Accepting to all hybrids and origins alike. Hell, they even had their own resident Royal Endarian who cursed them out with fancy language more than actually talking to any of them.
So when Tommy freaked out, Phil quickly reminded him that whatever Technoblade was, it shouldn’t be making him act so…terrified.
But then he said Technoblade was a human and Phil promptly lost his shit.
Of course, Phil kept his mouth closed as his feathers stood up on end, waiting for a predator to pounce. It had to be a joke, he thought. But when Tommy took him to the man, well, the joke was thrown to the side to make room for the truth.
That was a month ago now. And after having talked with the other members of Origin, Phil let the man stay. He couldn’t exactly kick the guy out because he was human. Even if this place was a safe haven from them. Humans hurt humans as much as they hunt and kill Origin’s. And Technoblade was clearly a man who disliked the status quo of his species.
So…it’s been a month. Not since the man showed up, even though it’s around the same time, but since Phil’s actually seen him. After letting him stay Technoblade’s practically disappeared. He knows the guys around because he hears one off comments from the others from time to time.
Just the other day, Ranboo was telling him that the guy makes a good blacksmith. Phil had to quickly remind him that throwing emeralds at people's heads wasn’t a form of hiring in the Overworld before the teen could piss the poor guy off.
So really, Phil shouldn’t be looking for him. He’s fine! Technoblade wants to be alone, if he didn’t he would have visited the Pub by now. Right? And yet his feathers ruffle every time he sets an extra bowl down at the table, his friends filtering in from their adventures and he doesn’t see the pink haired back climb up the ladder.
It’s one of these nights when someone finally notices. “What’s up with you?” Tubbo asks, slurping down the stew Phil prepared for dinner.
“Hm?” Phil questions, looking up from his own bowl. Only to see everyone’s gazes we’re stuck on him. Phil trills low in his throat, brow creasing. “What?”
“Your acting all droopy.” Niki points out from her tank, flinging around a piece of seaweed in his direction. Ranboo’s sitting next to her, shying slightly away from the dripping water. He doesn’t make any movement to move away.
“It’s stupid,” Phil starts, sighing. He shouldn’t even be bothered over this. Technoblade is just busy, right? He’s a grown man doing his own things. No need for Phil to stick his nose in his business. “I’m just worried about Technoblade. I don’t think he’s visited the Pub once since showing up here.”
“He hasn’t, has he?” Tommy voices, stabbing one of the carrots in his stew with his fork. “I’ve seen him when I go on my glides. He’s based on the rocky hills, I think?”
Sneeg buzzes his wings, hopping up onto his shoulder. “I don’t see him much either. I think I’ve talked to him like, once.”
“No one talks to him regularly?” Phil questions, looking around the room. Everyone shakes their head no. A pit gnaws in Phil’s stomach at the thought. Technoblade’s been here a month and hasn’t had a lengthy conversation with any of them. Left on his own.
He probably thinks they dislike him. “I’ll go see him tomorrow.” Phil decides.
“I’ll join you.” Ranboo states, chin up. As if he dares someone to disobey.
Phil smiles at the teen. “I think he’ll like the company.”
Ranboo blinks once in his direction before settling his eyes on Phil’s wings. “I don’t care to give him company. I need him to make something for me and he’s really good with enchantments.” The Prince says.
Ah. Right. “Obviously.” Phil nods. Should have thought about that first.
Phil fiddles with the small bow on his basket. Maybe it’s too much, but given the amount of time that’s passed Phil would like to smooth any ill intent that has grown between them all. A gift was Niki’s idea, though everyone had a say of what went into it. It was a sort of “welcome to Origin” and “I’m sorry we kind of forgot you lived here” basket all in one.
Hopefully Technoblade would like at least some of the things in here. He’s not very hopeful the man would appreciate Tommy’s mossy cobble rock he placed in here. “Last chance to contribute to the basket, Ranboo.” Phil says as they close in on Technoblade’s house. Or at least where Tommy said his house was. In all honesty, it could be in a whole other part of the community.
Ranboo scrunches up his nose, looking away. “If I want to give the human something I’ll put it in something less…poor-ish.” The teen huffs, crossing his arms. There’s something golden and shiny in his hands, hidden partially by his cloak.
Phil tilts his head, eyes narrowing. “Niki made the basket.” He states.
Ranboo stills in his footsteps, tail thrashing to the side as he glances over. Phil inches the basket closer to the Endarian. Who promptly stuffs his gift underneath the others before speeding up past him. Chuckling to himself, Phil hurries up.
It takes a while for them to find any sign of life. Enough that it has Phil’s feathers puffing up. Even Ranboo, who most of the time doesn’t seem to care much about others, is flicking his gaze around. As if he’ll see something he doesn’t want to. When they do, it’s the form of a small cottage built into the side of a hill.
“Do you think it’s his?” Ranboo asks, eyes narrowing on the build.
It’s not perfect, clearly a still work in progress, but it’s impressive for only having a month to construct it. It’s made of spruce and stone, clean sanded edges and an intricate carved door. It looks like an artist made it instead of a human. Or, well, the humans Phil’s used to flying away from.
“Has to be.” Phil replies. Sneeg and Fundy wouldn’t have a door this big. Jack wouldn’t even go near a forest to get the wood. Tubbo just sneaks into already existing houses. Tommy, well, he has a hole in the mountain with walks made of moss and cobble. Scott lives...well Phil’s not really sure where that starborne lived actually. And Niki lives in the lake.
Walking up the stone steps Phil racks his knuckles across the door. Taking a step back he waits for an answer, or for the door to swing open. Or a yell. “Maybe he didn’t hear me?” Phil asks himself, going up to knock on the door once more.
Ranboo beats him to it in a huff, pounding a few times on the door. “Human?” He calls, now glaring at the door. “I seek an audience with you!”
“I don’t think that’ll get him to open the door, mate.” Phil sighs.
Before Phil could try and knock again, gently this time, Ranboo disappears in a puff of smoke. “For fucks sake.” He groans as he hears a lock slide away.
Ranboo opens the door on the other side, looking proud of himself. “This is not a good first impression.” He points out as he steps inside. Breaking inside was sure to get Phil and Ranboo put on some kind of list in the human’s mind.
“If he’s not home we can just leave the basket on a table and leave.” Ranboo shrugs, closing the door behind him. “If he’s here I can talk about him being indebted to me for wasting my time knocking on his door.”
“Maybe leave trying to turn him into your personal butler for your third time meeting him?” Phil tries, looking around the room. The door leads to a kitchen, a hallway leading deeper into the house and a small living room on the right. It’s quaint, but not too stuffy either. It looks lived in despite the fact it wasn’t even here a month ago. Phil sets down the basket on the table in the kitchen.
“It doesn’t look like he’s home anyways.” Ranboo points out as he walks around the small kitchen. There was a pot on the stove with a cutting board filled with finely chopped onions and carrots. He was probably making dinner. “Why would he leave all this if he was going out though?” Ranboo asks as he picks on a wooden spoon from the pot. Water drips off of it.
“He most likely forgot an ingredient and went out to get it.” Phil replies. Everyone’s done it before. “Come on, let’s go before he finds out we were the ones that broke into his house—“ Phil’s cut off by the sound of retching and coughing.
Whipping his head towards the direction of the sound, Phil glances down the long hallway. “Phil?” Ranboo calls, nose scrunches up.
“Stay here.” Phil says, putting his hand up to stop the other from saying anymore. He’s quick to make his way down the hallway, wings pressed tightly to his back in the inclosed space. The retching and coughing continues. Getting louder and louder the closer he gets to the end of the hall. There’s two doors on either side of the hall, so he takes the one that’s already cracked open.
He doesn’t like what he comes across.
It’s dark, windows he hadn’t seen from the outside closed and locked. Curtains, which were beautifully embroidered with flowery designs and intricate line work, were drawn shut. Blocking out any of the afternoon’s light. A messy bed sat in the middle of the room right across from the door. Blankets strewn across the floor in heaps. The covers were wet and the pillows tossed into one of the corners of the room.
There’s bedside dressers on either side of the bed. A hand carved bureau sat on the left of the room, across from the window. The stool to the bureau has fallen over and next to it, puking his guts out into the floor, was their new residence.
“Technoblade?” Phil voices as he steps in, eyes growing wide as he looks over the shivering man. His clothes are drenched in sweat, hair messy and falling from what looks to be a loosely made bun. Technoblade hardly registers him, shivering as he starts another coughing fit. “Fuck.” He hisses, turning on his heel.
“Ranboo, get a washcloth for me!” Phil yells out of the door. He doesn’t wait for a reply, knowing one wasn’t going to come, and instead turns back to face the now dry heaving Technoblade. Within a few long strides Phils at the man’s side. Crouching down he places a hand on the other's shoulder.
Only for Technoblade to recoil at the tough, slapping his hand away. Phil quickly moved out of arm range, hand stinging from the impact. Technoblade stares at him with wide, unseeing eyes. Puke drips down his lips and onto his stained shirt. “I got the…” Ranboo pitters off as he enters the room, holding a dry washcloth in his claws. “Eww.”
“Thank you, Ranboo.” Phil replies, not taking his gaze off the sickly man in front of him. “You can leave the washcloth on the dresser. I need you to start a warm bath. If there’s no running water, find a bucket and fill it.” Phil instructs.
Ranboo looks like he wants to argue but then he looks over at Technoblade and shrinks in on himself, nodding. He quickly places the washcloth on the dresser and heads back over towards the door. Before he leaves, he turns back to face them. “…Is he going to be alright?” Ranboo asks hesitantly. Any bravado the man usually has is gone, replaced with something Phil doesn’t hear often from him. Concern.
“We’ll make sure of it.” Phil replies as he shuffles slightly closer to Technoblade. Ranboo hums before leaving the room. “Technoblade it’s me, Phil. We met a while ago?” He says slowly. Technoblade blinks sluggishly at him. Yep, definitely out of it. Not enough to not want to hit him, but Phil guesses beggars can’t be choosers.
“I’m going to help you get cleaned up, okay? But I need you to work with me.” Phil explains as he scoots even closer. He pauses when Technoblade shifts, laying his head on one of the bureau’s legs. After a second Phil slowly puts his arm underneath Technoblade’s armpit. Just from the contact alone he feels the man burning up.
“I’m going to have you stand now so I can get you to the bed. Use me and the bureau for support if you can.” Phil says as he slowly rises to his feet. Getting Technoblade to corporate was easier said than done. He wasn’t even fighting him, more so then just refusing to fight gravity. Phil wouldn’t call himself short, but to a human who he’s pretty sure is tall for his kind, he wasn’t the best for support.
It takes a while to get Technoblade standing, the other’s knees a wobbly mess. It takes even more time to get him to the edge of the bed. He practically collapses into it when they get over there, laying his head down on the covers.
“The hydro in the bathroom isn’t hooked up.” Ranboo’s voice chimes in from the doorway. “And I couldn’t find a bucket so I had to teleport back to the Pub—Niki said she’s also on her way.” Ranboo rambles as he shoves a bucket full of warm water in his direction.
There’s small water burns along Ranboo’s palms. Ranboo catches him staring, scrunching up his nose as he looks away. “I’m not refilling this, by the way.” He huffs.
“Thank you.” Phil replies, taking the bucket and setting it down next to the bed. Ranboo stays by the door as Phil goes about trying to clean Technoblade up. Using the washcloth the Endarian got him, Phil wets it with the water in the bucket. When it comes to taking Technoblade’s stained shirt off, he doesn’t know what scares him more. The fact Technoblade let him, or the fact he lets him actually wipe the other down.
“I think he’s in a coma of some kind.” Ranboo states, frowning. “Are all humans this out of it when sick?”
“No…” Phil answers, setting the washcloth to the side. Thank the stars it looks like Technoblade didn’t get any throw up on his pants. He wouldn’t want to explain why he was fully in a new set of clothes when he decides to come back to the land of the conscious. “He may have caught an Origin born flu of some kind.” He says as he looks around the room. Pointing to the bureau, Phil asks Ranboo to grab a new shirt.
The other complies, handing it off. “We did this?” Ranboo asks as Phil helps the shirt over Technoblade’s head.
Pausing in his movements, Phil looks up at Ranboo. His eyes are downcast, ears pinned back to the side of his head. Bitting his inner cheek, Phil lets out a calming trill. “Or maybe he has a weak immune system. We can’t know for sure.” He answers.
“He didn’t tell anyone he was this sick.” Ranboo states, hands balling up into fists. “Origin is a safe place he—he should have said something. Only an idiot suffers like this.”
Phil goes to remind him that not everyone, as sad as it is, finds asking for help that easy. He’s cut off by Technoblade going into a coughing fit. Ranboo jolts from the noise, teleporting across the room. Phil finishes pulling Technoblade’s shirt down before he goes to pat on the others back. He makes sure he’s not in the splash zone, just in case.
After a bit Technoblade calms down, moving so his forehead is resting on Phil’s shoulder. Chirping Treasurances, Phil moves Techno into laying back down on the bed. He’ll need to change the sheets, but that would mean moving Technoblade and he doesn’t think the man could take any more jostling.
Grabbing a pillow from the corner of the room, Phil sets it underneath Technoblade’s head. “Ranboo, can you continue whatever Technoblade was cooking? I think he was trying to make soup.” Phil asks as he presses his hand to the man’s forehead. Along with a fever, chills and vomiting he wouldn’t put it past the other to also be suffering from dehydration because of all the sweating.
And the little amount of food Technoblade had been able to eat was now all over the floor in puddles. “I’m going to clean the room up and keep an eye on him.” He states. Ranboo hums, giving one last look at the both of them before teleporting away.
Phil sighs as he grabs the bucket and looks around the room. He really hopes Technoblade has a mop somewhere.
Techno finds himself coming back in parts. The first piece of awareness he’s able to drag himself to isn’t much. He’s barely able to hold onto it for more than a second. All he remembers is finally feeling clean for once, the stench of throw up distant in his nose. The sounds of birds chirping at his window draws his attention to the left.
His window is one the right, though. He must be sicker than he thinks. He blinks the blur of sickness from his eyes, landing on a figure beside his bed. It’s the one chirping, not a bird. But that shouldn’t be possible because he lives alone.
The figure notices him and stops chirping, reaching out to set its hand on his forehead. Techno blinks and the figure is gone, replaced by a taller, lengthier figure. Eyes as dark as the night sky itself staring into his eyes. Like the void.
He knows distantly that he should be scared, that these eyes were made to never be seen. But he can’t help but find them beautiful. The night was always a comfort, even as a child. When everyone was asleep he could just be left alone, forgotten. Being forgotten was better than being seen by someone who would use him.
So Techno reaches out and the figure with the night sky in its gaze flinches. A second later it vanishes in a puff of purple smoke. And then he’s gone too.
The second time Techno’s able to really understand anything that he’s doing, there’s a song in his ears. A hum that sounds like whoever was singing plucked her voice right from the waves of the ocean. He can imagine the water slapping into a distant dock somewhere. He doesn’t have the strength to open his eyes, but that’s okay, the singing is enough for him.
It helps stop the pounding in his head for a moment, until the exhaustion claims him again and he slips into unconsciousness. The third time Techno comes to, he doesn’t feel like he’s on the verge of imploding. There’s whispers around him and he catches his name a few times. He feels his head being held up and something warm placed at his lips.
It tastes distantly like soup and he swallows. It tingles on his tongue, reminding him of potions. It soothes over his limbs and he doesn’t feel as hot as he was before. After a minute his head is laid back onto the pillows beneath him. Someone adjusts the blankets around him.
“Mhmm.” Techno mumbles, leaning into the hand at his side.
The hand pauses. “Technoblade?” Someone says, voice unrecognizable. “You there, mate?”
“Mhm.” Techno huffs, turning in the bed. He’s tired and his throat hurts.
“Are you going back to sleep?” The voice chuckles. Techno doesn’t reply as he shoves his face into his pillow. Sleep comes easy but unlike any other time, it’s peaceful.
Waking up felt like he was swimming through magma. His throat was scratchy enough to simulate having taken a fire resistant potion, so it was a possibility. But then Techno remembers exactly why he felt like a ravager ran him over and he groans, shifting on his bed.
Which was dry and smelt like flowers.
Squinting open his eyes, Techno slowly registers how off everything around him feels. He got really sick after getting stuck in the rain one night, lost in the woods. He wasn’t used to the terrain of Origin yet and so it took far too long for him to find his way back. Now, rain doesn’t cause someone to get sick, but it does turn a regular old cold he already had into the worst flu he’s ever had to suffer through.
Doesn’t help that he didn’t have access to the Nether here like back in the cities. And for the most part, Techno never found the need to ask around if the hybrids here had a portal. So, cold turned flu plus having no potions equals a very sick man. A man who’s currently very confused on why he hadn’t sweated through his bed covers yet.
Slowly Techno pushes himself up, eyes squinting away from the sun. “…Why?” He groans, mind going dizzy for a moment. The curtains were supposed to be drawn. Unless he opened them while half asleep? Taking a deep breath in, he slings his legs over the bed. The floor seems far further down then it’s supposed to be.
Cautiously Techno gets out of bed, using the bed as a sort of crutch. He makes his way to the door, reaching out for the handle. The door, magically, opens by itself. At least that’s what he would say if there wasn’t someone right in the doorway, holding the knob, and staring at him as if he grew a second head.
It was Phil. Or at least he’s pretty sure that was the man’s name. He hasn’t seen much of anyone since moving here, nevertheless the guy who seemed to be in charge of the place. “You're awake!” Phil says, wings puffing out as he steadies the potion in his off hand.
Techno blinks sluggishly at the origin. “…And you're in my house.” He states, taking a step back. He quickly glanced around the room for his sword, only to come up empty. Crap, he must have left it somewhere else.
Phil seems to sense his tension as the man’s wings fold closely to his back. “Sorry I…No one had seen you in a few days so I came to check on you. You were pretty out of it, mate. And you had a very high fever.” The man gestures down to the potion in his hands awkwardly.
“Oh,” Techno utters, standing up a little taller. Phil must have shown up to hand the potion off then. That’s…nice? He still wants to know how the other got into his house though.
Phil nods, looking down at the potion himself. “Ranboo made some more soup, if you wanted to sit down? You still must be exhausted, after the week you’ve had—“
“You’ve been in my house for a week?” Techno cuts the other off. That is way too long for a stranger to be sticking his nose around his stuff. He doesn’t care if it was for a ‘good reason’
Phil stills under his hardening gaze. “You were very sick, Technoblade. I couldn’t just leave you here on your own. Do you even remember the past week?”
Techno opens his mouth to say that he does, actually remember the past week. Only for his mind to fuzz over when he tries to think back. He remembers…figiures. Voices. Being taken care of…
Okay, so that’s really humiliating. “Was I really that out of it?” He mumbles to himself.
Phil hears, humming. “You kinda threw up on yourself. Twice.” Phil holds his hand up, raising two of his fingers. “And your fever would rival Jack’s natural temperature, our resident Blaze Born.”
Now that’s just embarrassing. “You didn’t have to take care of me.” Techno blurts. He shouldn’t have, is what he doesn’t say. A human in a land meant for origins. A man who’s never where he’s supposed to be. A man with nicknames that if they others ever heard of, would get him kicked out immediately.
Phil smiles softly, shrugging. “We take care of our own here. It’s kinda the reason this place exists.” The Elytrian states, gesturing down the hall. “If you want to say thank you, I wasn’t the only one helping out. Niki and Ranboo have been switching out with me. I think you’ve met Ranboo before?” Phil says, leading him down the hall.
Voices and smells flood in as they walk, leading them to the kitchen. Techno watches as Ranboo, who he remembers chatting with a few weeks prior, tries and stirs a pit of soup. Looking like he hasn’t cooked a day in his life. Next to him stood a merling, a bucket of water next to her with a dripping wet towel flung over her shoulders.
The sight is weird to him. Unusual. Calm and homey in a way Techno never thought he’d see in his own house. Techno sits down at the table, eyes scanning the people around him.
Ranboo turns, pauses for a second, then scrunches up his nose. “I’m not paying you for your service you're going to give me.” He states, pointing at him.
…What? “Heh?” Techno voices. Phil’s shaking his head as the merling rolls her eyes. These people are really, really confusing.