Before
“…Hullo.” Technoblade says. It feels odd, speaking carefully like this. His hands are dirty – filthy – stained – bloody – as he puts a hand to the little creature’s head. Human-ish head with triangle-ish ears.
The creature, sunken eyes so deep Techno think’s they’ve gone black, holds out his hands Technoblade’s to take.
He does. They’re dirty hands, but Technoblade chooses kinder words for once. The hands are tough with dirt and dots of injuries. They aren’t bloody, the dots of red come from a sewing needle.
Hands – tough. passionate.
The creature holds onto him.
secure. scared. fearful. So tight around his thumb.
After
‘Mentor me’ Tommy had demanded. Techno, now trailing behind instead of in front, doesn’t think Tommy knows what mentoring is.
He’s holding his sword wrong. Techno tells him as much, but he doesn’t care enough to correct himself.
“Why do you want to do this, even?”
“To be like you. Why else?” Tommy says like it’s the simplest thing in the world. To him, it may as well be. To him there isn’t much of a world outside the forest or Techno.
Techno sighs, Tommy smiles.
Techno smiles, too. He’s already been smiling.
Techno hopes Tommy finds a better reason.
