BLIND | DreamSMP

XIV - The Voices Speak

This chapter contains self-harm and self-deprecation. Please read responsibly.

"What the hell is going on?"

Phil stood at the entrance to the house, his back and flared feathery wings exposed to the outdoors, an expression of dismayed shock on his face as he surveyed the situation, eyes gliding over the bits of smashed plate strewn across the floor, the aggressive poses Techno and Tommy held; the tears streaming down Tommy's red and messy face, the labored breathing that filled the room.

"N-nothing," Tommy choked out, swiping his arm across his puffy eyes.

Phil turned to Techno, ignoring Tommy's weak lie.

"What happened? Why is one of my plates broken?" Phil's tone was colder than the icy wind that hurled itself against the house, intruding through the open door and raising goosebumps on the arms and legs of the inhabitants, an unwelcome visitor.

The fight left Techno all at once, his body slumping like an old sack of flour that had taken one too many beatings.

"Phil-- Wait-- I didn't mean to--"

"Downstairs." Phil ordered, briskly stepping the rest of the way inside and shutting the door behind himself, hearing the latch click into place before striding further into the room.

"It was an accident-- I wasn't--"

"Techno. Downstairs. Now. I'll join you in a minute." Phil cut him off.

Techno lumbered down the ladder leading to the ground floor of the house, a miserable sag in his posture.

Phil waited a moment, then hurried to the still-sniffling Tommy. He led him gently to the worn couch that had become his resident perch in the small cottage, wrapping an orange blanket around his quivering shoulders.

"I'm f-fine, really," Tommy lied, wiping his red eyes with the palms of his hands, wet lashes clinging together, soaked in briny tears that continued to slide down his cheeks with every damp hiccup.

Phil brushed loose strands of hair from the boy's face, tucking the blonde locks behind pink-tinged ears. He could clearly see Tommy's azure irises now, dark pupils unfocused and unmoving within the cornflower-blue rings, tensed eyebrows that creased his forehead lending them slight emotion, but it wasn't enough to void the strange sense of emptiness they afforded his features.

Shaking off the feeling, Phil pulled Tommy forwards into a hug, surprised to feel hands wrap around his torso in response, and a head nestle into his robed shoulder, muffling sobs and sniffles.

Phil was the one to eventually break the embrace-- he hadn't forgotten about Techno, who was still waiting, probably wondering when Phil would arrive.

"I'll be back in a few minutes. You gonna be ok by yourself, Toms?"

"Y-yeah," Tommy mumbled, wrapping the orange blanket Phil had given him closer around himself, kneading the cloth anxiously.

"Shout if you need me," Phil called as he descended the ladder, flipping the heavy wooden trapdoor closed as he went.

He didn't want Tommy to hear any of what was to be said.

Techno paced the room nervously, fiddling with the engraved rings decorating his fingers. A large collection of chests and barrels were stacked against one carved stone wall, filled with weapons, armor, and various supplies. Numerous lanterns decorated the ceiling, the oil-lit flames inside the glass and iron boxes flickering and dancing as they swung gently, disturbed by Techno's arrival, playing chase with shadows that retreated, waiting sullenly in dark corners before darting forwards, the merry game as natural as the ebb and flow of an ocean.