Under The Apple Tree I Awakened You
The God of Coming Storms, having finished his tenure on Dream, has a warning- of a sorts- for the God of Blood.
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Technoblade is not used to waking up where he did not lay his head to sleep.
Not anymore, anyway.
Yet he definitely did not lay down under an apple tree. First of all, this apple tree is growing green apples, which he has never seen before. They seem to be ripening to gold, which is also something he has never seen before.
"There you are."
He knows the voice.
"Wasn't sure it would work. Fuck me. You learn something new every day."
Technoblade sits up. "Schlatt?"
"Was that the name?" The goatman standing in the rutted path between the apple trees says. He's wearing farming work clothes, and a bushel-basket half full of golden apples is set by his booted feet. There's a cigarette hanging out of his mouth. The hair is longer, but the horns are the same. The beard's new, though.
"Yeah," the goatman continues, "I guess it was. Jebediah Schlatt. I like that one. Maybe I'll get it again."
Technoblade looks carefully at Schlatt- or- or...
"There it is," the God of Coming Storms says, his eyes shining blind and gold like the horns on his head, which are shifting and branching into terrifying euclidean forms and crumbling apart only to grow again. Technoblade slowly stands up, blood dripping from his mantle.
"How long?" He demands.
The God of Coming Storms says, "the whole time. That's how it works." He gestures at the tree Technoblade has woken up under, at the trees all around them. "Welcome to my orchard, Blood God. Don't touch my stuff."
"They're not apples, are they?" Technoblade asks. "They're worlds. Servers."
"Or spots on servers," the God of Coming Storms agrees. "It's not the apples, really, it's the trees. One tree could have a single apple or thousands, all places that need change. I herald that change. Good, bad- mostly bad, I think, for Dream."
"Did you know about Wilbur?" Technoblade asks. He goes to draw his sword.
He can't.
He physically can't. His arm won't obey him.
The God of Coming Storms says, "Sorry, Techno. Killing me ends badly for you. Not the kind of badly you want. And no, I didn't know about Wilbur. I mean we gotta talk about him, that's why you're here, but the whole Unfinished blah blah blah? No idea."
The God of Coming Storms picks up his bushel basket and taps the ash off his cigarette. "Walk with me, Techno. Wilbur's body's still under the rubble."
Technoblade carefully makes his way to the center of the rutted track and begins following the God formerly known as Schlatt, who seems to wander from tree to tree without much thought. "I know."
"His ghost is, too."
Technoblade blinks. "Gods don't leave ghosts."
"They don't," the Schlatt who isn't says. "unless they've been touched by a dreamon."
".......bruh."
Schlatt shrugs. "If that little shit gets his hands on that ghost, you're going to have a problem. Worse, if he gets his hands on my ghost."
"You left a ghost?"
"I was mortal at the time," Schlatt says. "That's how it goes. Eat the apple, become a mortal."
"Bruh."
"It's a failsafe. Hard to kill the god who's come to kickstart your server apocalypse when he's just some guy. I've died plenty but I've never left a ghost before. First time for everything. Like getting you here."
Schlatt examines an apple on a nearby tree and gives it a tug. It comes free and he examines it like a jewler would a gem, looking for faults.
He tucks it into his bushel basket and looks at Technoblade. "Kill the ghosts, Technoblade. Or Dream gets what he wants, and the next time I eat an apple from his tree, it gets real nasty for everyone."
"That's it? You drag me to an otherworldly realm to give me another order?"
"Another- oh, yeah. Tubbo. Hm. Poor kid. Hope he learned his lesson. Alright, get out of here. I have work to do."
The God of Coming Storms gestures, and Technoblade feels a rush of wind or water or force, and the last thing he sees before he falls back into darkness is Schlatt contemplating and then biting into a perfect golden apple.
