techno going to phil in the middle of the night and asking phil to just hold him because the voices are so loud. the voices begged for violence. they demanded it. the more time goes on the louder their demands grow, but one thing quieted them. Phil. Phils hugs and words of affirmation that things were going to be okay.
When he was younger, Techno would cry so hard Phil couldnt understand techno, momza would just ruffle up her wings and let baby techno mess with the gold flecks, no matter how much it messed up her wings.
In the early days, Phil and Kristen wouls have to leave for days at a time to find resources. Techno would become incredibly restless, the voices could get to him, his precious Phil wasnt there to stop them. Little techno curling up in phil's bed because it's the only thing that'll make the voices quiet down just a smidge.
Phil knew of the voices, but he didnt know the extent. Whenever Phil and Kristen would leave, they left him plushes and pieces of gold, and allowed him to sleep in their bed. He would hold these items so close to him, they were the only things quieting the voices.
Thunderstorms were always the worst, the branches in which their house was in swayed and pulled the tree with the wind. phil would always reassure him that the tree roots are strong, that they'll be safe but when he's alone, he only has their gifts and the memories of his reassurement but the memories dont stay intact. the voices creep and crawl everywhere.
the voices creating a memory of phil telling techno, "just feed the voices, give them blood and you'll feel better." little techno doesnt have the mental strength to hurt others. little technoblade cant move from bed. theres only one person in that bed.
but when he gets older and taller, stronger, maybe he tests the theory- but not with a person. gods, no. he went with a small animal, and felt a twinge of relief as the voices began to praise him, if only for a moment. it was only a small rabbit, nothing hugely impactful. but this was the first other being. he was listening to them. they became the loudest they had ever been. they were fueled.
his head would begin to pound with the pressure, and he could feel the tears threaten his eyes. so with bloodied hands and a sheathed hunting knife, he ran to phil the fastest he'd ever ran. even when techno would trip over roots he didn't see because of the red mist intruding his vision, he'd force himself back up and keep running. he ran up the balconies of the trees, he had to, he had to get to phil. he had. he had to for the sake of everyone. he pounded on the door, tears starting to fall, he was begging, begging for phil to wake up. he'd never felt so relieved in his life to hear the panicked shuffling of phil getting out of bed, and to see him swing open the door with a face white as a sheet. without an explanation--of which he couldn't manage, anyway--he threw his arms around phil and sobbed into his shirt, eyebrows creased as the mist retreated from his eyes, the voices hushing.
phil stared down with concern he had never felt before. he wrapped the wings so tightly around his best friend. he knew how they could be. this was practically his son, he knew the voices, but he didnt know they were this bad. he quietly brought techno inside and they sat on the floor, inside leaning against a now closed door. and they sat like that for hours, with techno quietly crying and phil rubbing his back, comforting him with everything he had.
